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Tales of Sparks and Lightning

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Stiles had lived through a lot of shit. His life had been completely turned upside down the day he decided to go into the woods with Scott and look for half of Laura Hale’s dead body, leading to his best friend being bitten by Peter Hale, the Alpha. But he had lived.

He hadn’t died when Scott had undergone his first ever full moon. He hadn’t died when he, Scott, Lydia, Allison and Jackson had been locked inside the school with Peter Hale. He hadn’t died when Jackson had been bitten and turned into a were lizard- kanima for his friends. He hadn’t died when Gerard Argent had kidnapped him and beat him in the basement of his house. He hadn’t died when he had risked his very human life to protect Derek’s betas and help save Jackson.

He hadn’t died when the human sacrifices began. He hadn’t died when he cheated death to find his father. He hadn’t died when the Nogitsune possessed him.

He had kept on living, kept on breathing. He had been close to death so many times that the he become stupidly reckless and uncaring.

But this? This wasn’t him being incredibly stupid. He had lived in Beacon Hills dodging supernatural mauling and killer trees just to die in a stupid airplane crash.

After all that had happened, he was going to die by human hands.

Stiles woke up in his bed, a silent scream frozen on his lips and beads of sweat on his forehead. He hadn’t got a wink of sleep all night. He couldn’t close his eyes without the image of Allison’s crumbled body on the floor flashing in his mind, the scream that Lydia had let piercing his eardrums, the smell of death and pain flooding his nose. And the pain. The guilt. All neatly wrapped in his heart, a nice departure gift from the Nogitsune.

He was tired. He was so tired of everything. He made his way towards the bathroom and looked his reflection on the mirror. His hair was getting longer and he had been tempted to cut it. But cutting meant being ready to move on, being ready to start on a clean page. He was never going to be ready.

The boy noted the dark circles under his eyes, and the sunken on his cheeks with a detached look. He knew he should be trying at least to sleep, to eat, to function, but… he just couldn’t.

He was still in yesterday’s clothes, and he stripped down to his boxers, before stepping in the shower. The jet of cold water was welcome, refreshing. He stayed for a long time, a blank look on his face, until a knock on the door came.

Scott came in after Stiles announced that it was just him, and the teenager gave a small smile at his best friend. Stiles tried to answer the smile with one of his own, but Scott didn’t notice how faked it was. Scott didn’t notice much, nowadays.

With his newly appointed powers and the still raw pain of losing Allison, he was too wrapped in his own world to notice. Stiles didn’t fault him. He was the cause Allison died, and he knew that everyday their gazes met, Scott couldn’t help but think about her, about her falling down dead in his arms, about the thing wearing Stiles’ face laughing and taunting, stabbing a similar thing right in Scott’s stomach.

“You gonna finish anytime soon? Mum is with Lydia, checking the last details on the dress.” Scott’s voice came through his thoughts, and Stiles startled, before nodding.

“Okay.” His voice came out like a croak, and Scott paused at the door. Stiles pulled the shower curtains closed. Scott left.

It wasn’t like Scott didn’t try. He did try. He was one of the few.

Lydia couldn’t try. She needed a few more weeks at least. She knew it wasn’t his fault. But at the same time, the thing wearing Stiles’ skin had taken her away against her will, had creeped on her, caused the death of her boyfriend and her best friend.

Isaac felt betrayed. He had loved Allison, he truly had. And then she had died- because of Stiles, Stiles, the only person he had felt comfortable enough to share his past with- professing her undying love for Scott. He was grieving too.

Malia and Kira, too new to truly understand the loss the Pack was going through, had stepped back, and the kitsune had promised to look after Malia. She was far better than Stiles, or anyone else could hope to be.

Derek had retreated in himself, trying to console Isaac and keep the Pack from dying from the inside. He also kept Stiles at a distance, not letting him too close in but he hadn’t casted him out. Yet. Stiles knew it was a matter of time before the werewolf did. He had a bag ready under his bed.

His father and Melissa McCall tried to get under his skin, but after being answered by the realest fake smile he could muster and getting sassed, they had stopped trying to get through him. They were getting married.

They had started seeing each other after the whole ordeal that went on at the Police Station back in Stiles’ sophomore year, and got together sometime in between that and being kidnapped by Jennifer Blak- Julia Baccari. And they were getting married soon. In a couple of days.

Stiles blinked at himself, standing in the middle of his bedroom, already wearing his clothes. It happened a lot, him blacking out, in the void of his thoughts, and at the beginning he had been scared the Nogitsune was coming back. Soon enough he had realised that this was just how he coped. Letting his body work in auto pilot while he grieved from the inside, trying to fill in the void and hollowness in his heart, somehow.

His father had already left, and so had Scott, so Stiles found himself slowly making his way towards Derek’s loft. Despite all the deaths and shenanigans that had occurred there, the werewolf still insisted in living there. Stiles wasn’t sure if Peter was with him still, or not.

Once, the thought of not being sure whether Peter Hale was in town or not would have set alarm bells in Stiles’ brain, and he would have tried his hardest to find out what diabolical plan was starting to form in the psychopath’s head. Now, he couldn’t care less.

Derek opened the door even before Stiles could knock, and then disappeared back inside, without a greeting or any other form on acknowledgment. Scott was sitting there, and looked up guiltily when he saw Stiles entering the room. Isaac and Lydia where also there, along with Danny, who had started spend a considerate amount of time with them after he found out about werewolves, Lydia and Jackson; he was Pack now. Stiles wasn’t sure where Ethan was.

Malia was sitting to the side, with Kira next to her. The blonde girl lit up at the sight of him, and Stiles had to force himself not to puke. She didn’t completely understand, of course, what had been happening with the whole being possessed by a demon thing, and still seemed to think of him as one of the good guys. He supposed that in theory, in her mind, he was.

He turned to Derek, who was looking at him carefully from the doorway. The same doorway where, after Boyd died Stiles had held him against and kissed him on the lips. A kiss neither of them had ever spoke about again. “I brought the research for the mare in the lake. I spoke to her, she has no interest in eating anyone’s flesh or drinking any blood. But just in case, here’s how to kill one.” He said, handing him the papers.

Derek didn’t take the. “No one invited you to come, or do any research, Stiles.” The teenager blinked at him. “No one asked you to go and talk to her. You could have been killed.” Pointed out the man, and beneath his façade at emotionless and coldness, Stiles could see the anger building up.

“I was trying to help.” He explained, shrugging.

Derek narrowed his eyes at him. “You are purposefully trying to get yourself killed without it being you doing it.” He said, and the teenager forced himself not to flinch. The man had always had a knack for reading Stiles.

Derek walked until he was right up in Stiles’ personal space, flashing cool blue eyes at him. “Well, not happening on my watch. Leave the bestiary with Lydia. Danny can do the research. Take some time for yourself, Stiles.” He ordered, meaning for it to come commanding, but sounding like a plea in the end.

Stiles studied him carefully. “Are you kicking me out of the Pack?” he asked. His voice came out normal, but inside, he was crumbling. They didn’t see it. They didn’t understand how much he needed them, how much he just wanted one of them to be with him, to make him snap out of it. He hadn’t shed a tear, not one, since the Nogitsune. He hadn’t cried at Allison’s funeral, never shed a tear during his nightmares. Not even his panic attacks made him cry. He needed their help. But they didn’t see him reaching out.

Derek held his gaze. “Yes.” He said simply.

Scott glanced between the two of them. “Derek, now…” started the newly turn Alpha. In theory he could easily tell Derek to shut the fuck up and order Stiles to stay. He could do it. But he wasn’t going to.

Stiles looked at the rest of the people in the room. Lydia wasn’t looking at either of them, looking out of place sitting next to Danny. The other human seemed to pity Stiles, almost as if he wanted to reach out. Scott was biting his lip, unsure of what to say, while Isaac seemed half angry at Derek, half sad that he couldn’t find a way to help Stiles. Kira was trying to act as if she wasn’t aware of what was going on around her, while Malia stared at the, unsure of what was happening.

Then he looked back at Derek. Derek looked as stony as ever. And Stiles nodded. “Okay.”

Derek seemed taken aback. “Okay?” he parroted, frowning. Even Lydia was looking at him, alarmed.

Stiles nodded. “I’ll leave.” He simply said, and Derek seemed at loss of words. He stared at Stiles, as if he wasn’t sure who was standing before him anymore.

Stiles gave him a half smile. He felt the same looking at himself in the mirror every day. He put down the papers in Derek’s hands, and then walked out of the loft, carefully closing the door behind him.

Beacon Hills Animal Clinic, how can I help you?” answered a voice from his cell phone.

“Dr Deaton.” Stiles was standing in his living room, two bags on the floor in front of him and all his college money secured in his pocket. He was going to take out all his bank money as well. He didn’t know when- and if he- was going to be back.

Stiles. Is everything alright?” asked the vet.

Stiles could picture him, standing in the animal clinic, a little dog on the table and him holding his phone with a cryptic expression on his face.

“Derek kicked me out of the pack.” He summarised, and he could almost image the vet frowning.

He did?” asked the man after a few moments.

Stiles nodded absently. “Kind of. I asked him if he was kicking me out and he said yes.” He clarified. “I was wondering if you could give me your contact’s number. I might decide to meet up with him.” He said.

Deaton didn’t comment on it, simply told him to hang on. He had just finished telling Stiles the number when the front door opened. Stiles swore under his breath, as his dad stopped dead in the dining room, where Stiles had left the letter.

And Stiles?” Deaton’s voice interrupted his internal freak out. “Just… Jesus, stay safe.” Said the doctor, and Stiles was so startled at the emotion in the man’s voice that he didn’t even had time to formulate an answer before the man ended the call.

Stiles made his way to the living room, his stomach a knot. John Stilinski was sitting in a chair, eyes scanning the letter and his face paler than ever. When he saw Stiles, he relaxed for a moment, before taking in Stiles’ bags and all the rest of his stuff. He put down the letter on the table. “Is this some kind of joke?” asked him his father, and Stiles looked down at the paper on the table.

Dear dad,

I’m sorry. I can’t really do this anymore. I need to leave Beacon Hills, and I can’t… I need to leave now. My life isn’t in danger, and I am not being kidnapped. I just don’t think I can cope anymore. I need some time alone.

I am not cutting ties with you. I am just moving. To Australia. I have your number, and Melissa’s and I’ll call you the moment I land.

I am sorry. I love you.

Yours, Stiles.

He looked back up at his dad, and just shook his head. “No. I…”

John Stilinski looked at him pleadingly. “You don’t have to leave. You can take some time off the Pack. I can get someone to talk to you.”

Stiles took a deep breath, forcing himself not to look at his dad, hating that he was the reason his dad looked like he was about to cry. “I left the Pack.” He said, matter of factly.

The Sheriff looked stunned.  “Stiles… the wedding. Think about me and Melissa for a change. Your mother wouldn’t want you to do this.” John knew it was a low blow, but was stunned when Stiles barely even reacted.

“My mum is dead.” He said evenly, and the Sheriff stared at him wide eyed. Stiles fixed his backpack and took both bags in his hands. “I am sorry, dad. It has to be this way. I can’t…” he choked on the last word and took a deep breath. “I love you.” He said, and turned towards the door.

“Mieczyslaw Genim Stilinski!” Stiles kept walking, despite hearing his full name for the first time in years. “Exit that door, and you cease being my son.” Said the Sheriff and Stiles stopped in his tracks. The Sheriff didn’t say anything more.

“You don’t mean that.” Said the boy, but his voice seemed unsure.

“The hell I don’t mean it! No son of mine would ever do something like this!” Said the Sheriff.

Stiles gave him a last smile. “I’m sorry. I still love you, dad.” He said in the end, and left the house.

And the Sheriff, inside, crumbled on the floor, angry, angry like he had never been and so goddamn hurt and sad. Stiles drove away.

Stiles had never actually been anywhere outside America. This was his first time flying anywhere farther than Boston, where his mother’s sister lived. He had been about 6 when he went there.

By now, his dad had probably let the news get out of the house. He wondered if his dad was still furious. Was the wedding going to still take place? He hoped they didn’t cancel it for him. He wasn’t worth it, and Melissa and Lydia had worked hard on it. It was supposed to lighten everyone’s mood a little bit after the entire shit show that had been the month of December.

School was going to start soon. People were going to start asking questions, about Allison, and Ethan and Aiden. Boyd and Erica hadn’t been popular, but their disappearance (no one knew they were actually dead) had still shaken the school. Suddenly everyone had a little story, a little nice thing to say about them. People he had never met claimed to be one or the other’s best friend. Stiles had felt physically ill.

Stop it. He chided himself, looking outside. He hadn’t even noticed that the plane had started. Had he fallen asleep? He didn’t think so.

There weren’t many people abroad, so he was a little confused when two little girls sat down next to him.

The first one looked around three or four years old, with startling blue eyes. Her hair was the colour of ebony, high in a small ponytail. Next to her was another girl, probably her twin sister, with a head full of curly dark hair. But what was strange was that both little girls had sat next to him and were staring at him, no parents in sight.

Stiles had always loved little kids, so he gave them a small smile, looking around for their parents. The one who seemed like she might be older smiled back, dimples showing, while the smaller one curled on herself anxiously.

“Hi! My name is Bianca!” she greeted, leaning in closer to him.

Stiles spotted a man standing up, a little black suitcase in his hands as he walked towards the toilet. He looked away and back to the little girl, who were still gazing intently at him. “Hi, Bianca.” He said, unsure.

She beamed, and leant in closer. “I like your smell.” She confided, and Stiles almost smiled at her. Kids and their sincerity were a small-

He stopped for a moment, and looked back at the girl. Both her and her sister were squeezed in the same seat, and she was leaning in closer to Stiles. He tilted his head closer to her, and held his forehead on hers. “Show me your eyes.” He said.

The girl blinked at him for a second. Then she flashed her golden eyes at him. Stiles moved back away from her, and gave another smile. “I like them.” He told her. Bianca giggled, and this seemed to calm down the other girl.

She touched Stiles’ arm with hers, and looked at him shyly with her big blue eyes. “Pack?” She said earnestly, and Stiles’ smile faltered for a second. Then he nodded slowly at the girl, and she smiled, putting her thumb in her mouth.

Another man, similar dressed as the first one made his way down, as Stiles asked the two girls. “Where are your parents?”

The smaller one, who was slowly but steadily making her way towards Stiles, who pretended not to notice, shrugged, while Bianca just blinked at him. “They are dead.” She said, matter of factly.

“Who came with you, then?” asked the teenager, trying to ignore the little twist in his chest at their answer.

Bianca looked around them, as the other tried to sit on Stiles’ lap without him noticing. He kept looking at Bianca, but moved away his arms to grant her access. He guessed werefolf cubs needed contact. “Well, there were these men that said that we are going to meet our uncles who will look after us.” She explained. “They sat there” she pointed “and told us to sit where we wanted, and you smelt the nicest out of everyone.” She smiled sunnily again.

Stiles felt a little nauseous, as a thought making his way inside his head. He felt a little hand on his neck, and looked down at the blue eyed little girl. She blushed and waved. “Hi.” Stiles found himself actually smiling, the movement almost foreign in his mouth, as he looked down at her. “Hi.”

Bianca, feeling ignored, poked at him. “What is your name, Mister?” she asked, and Stiles almost laughed at her calling him mister.

“Stiles. But that’s my nickname. My real name is very hard to pronounce.”

Bianca’s eyes widened. “Like you!” she said, pointing at her twin. She grinned at Stiles. “Her name is very long, so everyone calls her Anya.” She explained.

Stiles looked at the girl in interest. “Your name is Anastasia?” he guessed and both her and Bianca nodded, giggling a little.

“’S hard to say it, and long.” She explained, and that’s when a voice came from the pilot’s cabin.

Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We shall be making an unscheduled landing for maintenance check-up, but there is nothing to worry about.” In a voice that suggested the complete opposite. Stiles would know. He had used the same voice many times before.

People started shifting nervously in their seats, and their nervousness was starting to affect Anya. Her eyes flashed gold for a moment, and she hid her face in his collar. Probably the scent of werewolf he carried was calming her a little.

Bianca continued to remain positively disinterested, as she chatted about something to Stiles. The boy knew he should be worried, but he couldn’t work himself to be.

Then the two business men dashed out of the toilets, a look of wild terror on their faces. Drug dealers, Stiles had seen the type before. A deal had gone wrong. They were talking in low voices to each other, but nobody was paying them any care.

He nudged Bianca. “Can you hear what they are saying?” he asked, and the girl nodded, looking bored.

“Money… something about being betra-, betrayed?  Fake coca-ine.” She huffed. “A bomb in their bags and fake coca-ine...” she kept dutifully talking, but Stiles had frozen. There was a bomb in their bags.

There was a bomb on the plane. There was no fucking maintenance, the plane was about to fucking explode.

And of course, that was when the first bomb exploded.

The screams of the passengers invaded the plane, as small masks started to fall from the slots in front of them, but Stiles wasn’t hearing them. All he could hear was the screams of terror of students in the school, the roar of the Alpha, Erica and Boyd’s tortured calls, the sound of ripping skin, the cries of everyone in Eichen House and Lydia’s deafening scream.

So this was the end then? He was going to die because a smuggler had decided he didn’t want to sell his cocaine and had tricked some drug dealers and gave them fake drugs and bombs? After all he had been through, he was going to die a human death? He hoped his life wouldn’t flash before his eyes. The actual story had been pathetic; he didn’t really see the trailer again.

And then he heard the sound of a small girl crying and Stiles snapped out of it. Anya was holding on him and somehow both her and Bianca were sitting on Stiles’ lap, holding on him and each other in terror. The smoke had filled the plane, and the lights had started flicking on and off.

Anya was crying, while Bianca was having a full on panic attack. She stared at Stiles, trying and failing to get air in her lungs. Stiles put a hand on her shoulder. “Bianca! Bianca, focus on me, focus on my voice okay? Bianca, can you hear me?” he asked, and she nodded once, gasping for air.

“Count with me. Breathe with me! Anya, you too!” He snatched three masks and placed them first on the two kids and then on himself. He gripped tighter on Bianca’s hand. “ONE! TWO! Bianca, COME ON! THREE.” He started counting, and somehow the girl managed to. She was struggling, but Stiles could see both of them breathing, and he breathed too.

“This is your captain speaking, please keep your seats! We are going to have a rough landing, prepare yourself for the impact.” The panic was clear in his voice.

Stiles heard a few men crying, and a woman reciting the last verses of the Quran. A girl that he knew from Beacon Hills, Kathy Martinez, was passed out in her seat. Another man was in tears. “Jesus, have mercy, I have a family! I have two kids, please…”

But he couldn’t care about either of them. He couldn’t start freaking out, he had to stay strong; if he wavered, then so would Bianca and Anya. He couldn’t have them die. He couldn’t. They would be added to the list of the people he was too late to save, along with his mother and half of his pack.

So Stiles believed. He wasn’t religious, but he begged anything that crossed his mind to have mercy of the two kids. He could see that they were very little above the water, right now. His ears were whistling. Please. He had to save them. He would save them. He could save them. And then the plane plunged front first in the water.

Derek looked at the Sheriff standing with Scott’s mum- his new wife- and felt a strange sense of nostalgia just looking at them. They were really perfect for each other. Scott was standing next to them, still a little teary from his early speech, as he told them how he and Stiles had always known that they should have been together.

“He should have been here. He would have loved the cake.” Said a voice next to him, like she had known what he was thinking about. The red head looked flawless in a designed short white dress. She wasn’t looking at him.

Derek felt a tightness around his throat. He- they all- hadn’t realised how far had Stiles gone. How much he had been going through in his mind. He had wanted to help him. He had meant it when he said that Stiles should stay away from pack business for a while, but when Stiles had agreed… it was almost as if he had been waiting for them to make the decision for him. For them to tell him to go.

They had been the only thing keeping him in Beacon Hills, and Derek understood him. His mother had died in this town, he had seen death more times that a 17 years old should, had seen Boyd and Erica fall before his eyes, had been kidnapped and possessed. He had been an instrument used to write death on Allison and Ethan’s life.

No one knew- apart from Derek, of course- how close Allison and Stiles actually were. The girl had spent ages with Stiles after the entire Gerard/Kanima scenario went down, trying to find herself again. They jokingly called themselves team human. He had known, but never thought her death would make him so catatonic.

When his own family died, he had grieved, of course. But he had had Laura. She helped him out of it. She had been the best sister and Alpha. They had clung to each other. And when Laura died, he had had the need for revenge guiding him, and then he had found a Pack. He always had someone.

And he had thought that Stiles had someone too. That he needed to stay away from the supernatural. That he deserved a chance to a normal life. And in doing so, he had lost the boy.

“Yeah.” He said in the end. He would have loved the multi layered chocolate and vanilla delight.

Melissa had almost cancelled the wedding when she had found out. She still looked sad, and kept making these abort gestures, as if she was going to say something, but then stopped and looked miserable.

The Sheriff coped differently. He was angry, but underneath the anger, Derek could smell his sadness, his pain and his regret.

“It’s not your fault. Don’t blame yourself.” Told him Lydia, again, and Derek looked at her from behind his eyelashes.

“Same goes for you.”

All of them coped differently. Scott, when he found out, had come all the way to the loft and punched Derek in the face. And then he had thrown himself at him, and just started crying. In a matter of weeks, he had lost everything. Kira, Allison, his unwavering friendship with Isaac and now Stiles.

Lydia had, for the first time in his whole life, lost control in front of them. She had slumped on the floor and cried, dragging her nails in Derek’s sofa.

Isaac had ran away and closed himself in his bedroom, whimpering. Danny, Malia and Kira all were sad, but they didn’t really understand.

Derek had let Scott cry, and then had left the house, shifting in his wolf form, and let out all the pain he felt in his chest at having driven Stiles- his Stiles- away for god knows how long.

The girl gave him a small smile, and linked arms with him. “Come on, let’s give them a proper pack blessing and congratulations.”

Malia and Kira, dressed matching were already standing next to the Sheriff and Mama McCall, although Malia had long lost her shoes. Scott smiled at them, as Isaac and Danny stopped next to them. Danny grinned back, and so did Isaac, turning around to say something and stopping mid movement. He frowned, and the smile slipped from his lips.

“Well, don’t you look dashing.” Said Lydia at Scott’s mom, who just blushed and smiled.

Before she could answer, Parrish stopped next to them. The man had been invited last minute by the Sheriff, almost as if he wanted to replace the gap from Stiles, somehow. It wasn’t working.

The deputy had a grave air on his face, and he looked pained as he looked at the Sheriff. “It was a call from the Station. I would wait, but it can’t wait.”

Lydia rolled her eyes, but Derek could smell his fear and the steadiness of his heart when he spoke. The Sheriff nodded. “What it is?”

Jordan looked like he didn’t know how to breach the conversation. The majority of people had already reached the location of the reception, leaving only the pack and Parrish. “God, how do I even… Okay.” He swallowed. “You know deputy Martinez?” he asked, which was dumb, since he was the sheriff.

“Cassidy. Is she okay?” asked the man sharply, and frowned when Jordan shook his head.

“Physically she is fine. Emotionally… no.” he sucked in a breath, and then he put on his cop expression. “There has been an accident, and her sister died.” He said, and the Sheriff looked up the sky.

“Poor Cassidy.” Muttered the man, but from Jordan’s expression, he wasn’t finished.

“Her and every single passenger are most likely dead, although they are still looking for the bodies.” The Sheriff nodded. Jordan continued, because the Sheriff wasn’t getting it. “It was a plane crash.”

Lydia stilled her eyes going wide and her heart racing even before he continued. “Sheriff, I’m so sorry. It was the plane that left two days ago directed to Australia. Stiles’ plane.” He said gravelly.

“Oh, fuck.” Breathed Danny, rubbing his hands on his face. Lydia sat down, stunned, and Scott froze. The Sheriff didn’t say anything hands shaking. He didn’t breathe, his heart going up irregularly.

No. He really wasn’t breathing. “Sheriff!” called the werewolf, as the man fell on the ground, clutching his hands to his chest, tears rolling down his face. A heart attack.

The old man locked eyes with Derek, pain so raw in his eyes that he seemed naked. “I told him he wasn’t my son anymore.” He whispered, and his heart stopped beating.

Stiles felt the crash, felt the water and the pain all at once, and then nothing. He opened his eyes.

He wasn’t in the water, which was an unexpected plus. And he wasn’t in the plane either. He sat up quickly, and nearly fell over again. He was laying at the edge of a forest, right at the front, and he could see the sea from not too far away. But there was no trace of the plane.

When he looked around him again, he spotted two similar figures laying next to each other and his heart started beating frantically. He stood up, his legs almost giving up under his weight, and rushed towards the two kids. “Oh my god, Bianca! Anya!” he called, falling right next to them.

Their eyes were closed and they didn’t seem to be moving in the slightest. No. Stiles couldn’t take this. “BIANCA! ANASTASIA!”

He felt like he was in a new skin. Like this was his first time experiencing death. Like he was a pure kid just thrown in the body of an angsty self-loathing teenage boy. His entire body was on flame, as he screamed and shouted, as if he was combusting and destroying.

He felt the power from the ground, he felt everything at once, and there was a flash of light. Stiles raged.

The Sheriff opened his eyes, and looked around himself. He was standing in what looked like a waiting room, completely white and spotless. Everything seemed just so clean. There were a couple more people, but it was like he couldn’t focus on them in the slightest.

He didn’t know what he was doing there. Couldn’t remember what had happened. It seemed a little like an hospital.

“John Stilinski at number AO3!” called a woman from one of the stations. That was his name. He noticed some people looking up startled at his name.

He walked up to the woman, confused, and she smiled gently. “Good morning, Mr Stilinski. How are you feeling?”

“Where am I? I don’t remember coming here.” Said the man instead, and she stretched out her hand. The man looked at her hand, and she huffed a laugh, pointing at a file he was holding in his hands. He hadn’t noticed. He handed it to her.

“My, my. People usually get away with debts like this. Whoever is claiming it back must be strong.” She said, and the sheriff blinked.

“I beg your pardon? I- is there a problem with my insurance? What debt?” he asked, and she rolled her eyes, and kept typing.

“You owe Mrs Claudia Stilinski, born Bulanov, a debt.” The Sheriff’s eye widened. The girl kept typing and speaking. “You swore to look after Stiles Stilinski, born Mieczyslaw Genim Stilinski, and you failed to complete this.” She explained.

The Sheriff sucked a breath. Claudia? Where was she? Where was Stiles? Before he could answer, two little girls walked past him to another cashier and handed their paper. They looked like twins, despite having different hairstyles.

The other cashier smiled at them. “Anastasia and Bianca Lovelace. Urgent. Well, you two should got then, shouldn’t you?” she asked and the two girls looked at her apprehensively. The cashier smirked. “Mr Stiles is waiting for you.” The two girls gasped, and in a second they were out of the room.

His cashier smiled. “You may go using this door. Here is a key.” She said, and handed him the said key. The Sheriff was thoroughly confused. Was he dead? Was Stiles dead? Did the two girls run off to his Stiles?

The cashier helped him towards one of the doors, and right before he stepped through it, he heard another call a name he remembered pretty well. “Allison Argent to desk number AO3, please.”

At first it was darkness, and then the Sheriff opened his eyes. He was laying down on the ground, head resting on Melissa’s lap as she cried softly. He blinked and struggled to move. The woman looked at him in shock. “John?!”

In a second people had surrounded him and the Sheriff couldn’t understand a word that was going on, as the woman he had just married held him and cried. “Oh John!”

Derek was staring at him, his eyes tear ridden. “You died. Lydia even screamed.” He said, dumbfounded, and Scott was looking at him like a ghost.

He held Melissa with a hand. “How long was I dead for?” he asked, and Isaac sniffed.

“A good ten minutes. Mr Stilinski, we thought you were gone.” He said, and he could see the silent question in all their eyes. How?

The Sheriff looked at the aisle, not too far away. “I had a debt to finish.” Then he looked back at them. “I think Stiles is still alive.”

Stiles was floating both metaphorically and in reality. Everything seemed to be so light.

He couldn’t move, could only just blink, as he floated in the air. The air smelt like flowers and summer.

Where am I?

Hi, son.

Stiles’ eye widened as a face materialised upside down in front of him. She looked as beautiful as he remembered, long hair cascading to her shoulder a blue dress on her. He didn’t open his lips… he just thought out loud.


Yes. Stiles, son… I am so proud of you.

Uh? What? Mama, am I dead, too?

No. If you were, I’d personally murder you.

Mama that didn’t even make sense.

Whatever. As I was saying… I’m proud of you, son.

Mum, stop. I killed… I killed people.

The Nogitsune killed people.

I was the Nogitsune, mama.

You were the Not-gitsune.

Please stop trying to be funny, it hurts.

Funny? I’m dead serious, Stiles.


Oh, come on! That was a good pun. Point is, the Nogitsune was in you and it was controlling you.

It felt good.


I remember the people I killed and manipulated, and it felt good, mama. It’s also my fault.

Would you have started murdering people if the Nogitsune hadn’t gotten into you?

We might never know.

I know you, Stiles.

Do you? I changed, mama. I am not who I used to be.

You saved two kids that you barely knew because you didn’t want them to die.

Bianca and Nya? Are they alive?

Yes. You brought them back.


You finally activated your spark. You burnt out all that was left from the Nogitsune, and your spark burned brighter than ever. You saved them.

I did?

Yes. That’s what you do Stiles. You always try to save everyone.

That’s Scott.

The difference between the two of you is subtle. You know when saving someone is doable and when it’s not. You understand what’s practical and what isn’t.

So can I bring you back?

In theory yes. But you would die.

Great. How did I save the two of them, then?

They have smaller souls. They had not been completely dead. You used almost all your strength anyway.

Why can I see you now? Is it a dream?

Because of your spark, duh. And yes it is a dream but it’s also real.

So cryptic. Man, you would have loved Dr Deaton.

Alan? We went school together.

Of fu-dging course.

Stiles listen to me. I am proud of you, because no matter what, you kept fighting. You always tried your hardest. You are only human, a human who ran with wolves. You kept falling, but you stood up again and kept running. You never looked back. Its normal that you finally need to sit and take a break for a moment. Look at how far you’ve come. I have every right to be proud of you, son.

I love you. I just… I love you so much, mum. And I miss you, and dad too.

Your father is exactly where you left him, waiting for you. You lost me? I never left. I promised I would look after you, didn’t I?

He said that I wasn’t his son anymore.

John has a knack for the dramatic.

You weren’t there. You didn’t hear him.

Uh-uh, fyi I very much was there.

Please never say fyi again.

No can do.

I left town two days before his wedding.

He already forgave you. He understands you better than you give him credit for. But he’s a father, and you are his son, and it still hurts.

He is marrying Melissa McCall.

Yeah, that’s great! I always liked Melissa. Her husband… ugh. I told her he was bad news.

And are you okay with it?

Little boy, I only want the best for you and your father. Until you are happy, I am happy.

What happens now?

You have two little pups to look after. I also have taken the liberty to send you a present, since you finally activated your fire spark.

A present? Giddy. Can I will anything I want to happen now? Like, can I will a new plane and a phone so we can get the fu-dge away from here?

Sure, you can try. But you would end up dead.


The more specific what you wish for is, the more strength it will take away from you. We are sparks not faeries.

Makes sense. So my wishes should be like food, somewhere to stay and stuff like that?


Oh man. This is going to be fun. Will I ever see you again?

Might take a bite out your strength but definitely yes.

Can you tell me where you are going now?

Going nowhere. Didn’t I tell you already, young man? I am always with you.

Stiles woke up to a small kid sat on his chest, with sand all over his chest and legs. Anya smiled when she saw him finally opening his eyes, a thumb in her mouth. “Hi.” She murmured shyly.

The boy sat up, and then buried his face in her neck, holding her tight. “Hi.” He murmured back, and she relaxed in his embrace. He looked around, and spotted Bianca not too far away, building a castle with her hands, and for the first time in years, he relaxed.

It was like everything was new and afresh. Yes, Allison’s death still hurt. He missed Erica and Boyd, and his mum. But at the same time, that sense of guilt and misery that had completely overpowered him after they killed the Nogitsune and had persisted with him had vanished, leaving behind a lot of anger.

Anger at the Pack mostly. Because what had been understanding now turned into him being annoyed.

Lydia should not be blaming him from what something else had done. She had never blamed Jackson for the things the kanima did, and the only difference here was that Stiles hadn’t turned into a giant lizard, since they were. Both. Being. Possessed.

Scott should have stepped up to his role of Alpha of the Pack and tried to fix something, because of course his emotions were connected to how the Pack felt. If Scott was sad and hurt, what did he expect the rest to do?

Isaac should have woken up and realised that this was the real world, and that he couldn’t control how Allison felt about him or whatnot. Life wasn’t a goddamn fairy-tale.

And Derek should remember fucking carpe diem, because if he kept pushing away all the things he wanted from life, then nothing would ever work out for him, and he was going to die alone.

He wasn’t sad anymore. Sure, he was grieving, but he was furious. He was going to live; he was going to survive no matter what. And then, when he got better and went back, they would all beg him to stay.

He was vaguely aware that Anastasia was scent marking him, and he almost chuckled at the little girl’s antics, losing himself in the moment. Two hands fell on his eyes and a voice asked. “Guess who?”

Stiles smirked and pretended to wonder. “Anya?” he asked, and the little girl still in his lap giggled.


“Then you must be… Allison?” he asked, saying her name finally in weeks. It didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would. The Pack, everything that happened seemed almost like a very far away dream.

Bianca huffed. “No! Come on, Mr Stiles!” she said again.

Stiles snickered. “Oh! You must be Bianca, then.” He said, and the girl grinned at him, taking her hands off as she sat down next to them on the sand.

“Who is Allison?” she asked, and Stiles smiled, looking at the water. In a few minutes he should stand up and look around, try to figure out where they were. Try to find a place to sleep in and maybe some food.

“Allison is…” he thought about it. “She is my sister in all but blood.”

Anya frowned, still sucking her thumb. “What does that mean?” she asked.

“We had two different moms and dads, but I still consider her my sister.” The girl shifted, getting more comfortable on him. Bianca laid her head on his legs. “She was… she was one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever seen. She was brave and... She is brave, and she is strong. She is a leader and she never wavers when she does what she thinks is good. It might not be, but she believes blindly in everything she does.

She hates romantic comedies with a passion, and pours ketchup on everything. Once she put it in her pasta- pasta! She can’t cook, but she makes the best teas and coffees in the world. She is great at sports like archery- Robin Hood’s sport- but she is a failure in anything that is about history. She paints a lot, it’s her hobby. Sometimes me and her go around, and she takes pictures and I draw them.”

“Doggy.” Called Anya.

“Where is she now?” asked Bianca.

Stiles shrugged. “Somewhere far. But one day, I’ll see her again.” He said fervently.

“Doggy.” Repeated the little girl, and Bianca turned to her.

“You’ve seen a doggy?” she asked, and Stiles turned around to see a big wolf standing not too far and making his way towards them, slowly, as if it didn’t want to startle them.

It had a big book in his mouth, and its fur was a rich sandy colour. Stiles knew immediately that it was the gift his mother meant.

Anya and Bianca didn’t move, mesmerised by the creature, and Stiles put the both behind him and took one step towards the animal. The creature’s eyes brimmed with intelligence as it pushed the book towards Stiles with his nose.

Stiles took it, and the wolf laid on the ground, ears down, and looking at Stiles. The book was titled ‘Familiars and Spark’.  His eyes quickly scanned through the introduction.


Familiars are often confused for a witch’s little pet, but that isn’t what they are. A familiar can be an animal or a person, and is usually a fragment of the soul of a spark.

The stronger a spark is, the stronger his familiar is. If a spark has dark magic, the familiar will look sickly. Sparks usually have one familiar who never changes its form throughout their entire life. Usually his form reflects who the spark is inside, and after drastic changes- deaths, for example- a familiar could change form and remain like that forever.

If a spark’s affinity is water, they are more likely to have a water based familiar like a fish, or a turtle; if it’s air, their familiar can be any kind of animal that braves the sky; if it’s earth, they can have any animal on Earth, including humans.

There is one other kind of spark, with fire affinity. They are the strongest spark in terms of familiar and control. They can will something to happen, and it will. Their familiar is usually a shapeshifter that can change in any animal in any given moment. Wherever they go, their familiar will be with them. If they die, their familiar will die too.

Stiles looked down at the wolf and smirked. “So you are my familiar, uh. I’m Stiles. What is your name?” he asked, as Bianca and Anya waved at the wolf.

The wolf huffed and held up a paw, putting it on Stiles’ heart.

It was a she-wolf. Young. Unnamed. Could change at will since Stiles was indeed a fire spark.

Stiles turned to Anya and Bianca. “What do you want to call her?” he asked.

“Lola!” called Bianca, and Stiles saw the wolf giving him a look, as if she was daring him to call her Lola.

Anya wrinkled her small nose. “Leah Clearwater.” She proposed, and the wolf almost whimpered at their name choices.

Stiles snorted. “What do you think about Skyler?” he said, and the two girls looked at each other.

“YES! Her name is Skyler!” decided Bianca, Anya nodding solemnly in agreement. The wolf gave another huff, but she seemed also pleased with the name.

Now came the tricky part. He turned to the two girls. “You two go and play with Sky. See if you find somewhere like a cave or something, but don’t go too deep in the woods okay?” he asked them, and Anya grabbed his trousers, looking at him questioningly.

Stiles crouched down next to her a gave them both a kiss on the forehead. “I’m going to look for food. I will be right back.” He promised, and she reluctantly let go of his shirt. Stiles took the book in his hands, and the two girls were distracted by Skyler.

He was not going to lie. This was not going to be easy. Neither of the two girls seemed too disappointed at the disappearance of the men that were apparently looking after them, and Stiles had the sneaking suspicion that the men were hunters in the first place.

He was also getting attached to them surprisingly easily. Before his mother’s death, he had been a very extroverted kid who considered everyone his friend. He trusted implicitly and befriended anyone in a matter of seconds.

After his mother’s death… well, he had just started to look at the world with critical eye, and not getting attached to anyone. He drove any other friend away, except Scott. He almost laughed: stupid, kind and loyal Scott. He missed him, and he also wanted to hit him on the head with something.

The boy opened the book until he got to the chapter about fire sparks. According to the book, Fire Sparks were the strongest, but even them, at their beginning had to learn how to use their power slowly. A spark was not magic: a spark was that unwavering trust in yourself that made you a little more than a simple human.

Funny how this happened to the one guy who trusted himself less.

He took the book in his hands and took a deep breath. A book was something simple, he convinced himself. Just like the mountain ash with Deaton. He could fit it in his pocket, it could fit. It could… With his eyes closed he put the book in his pocket and grinned when it actually did fit.

His face hurt a little at the expression. This, the undeniable happiness, this excitement was something Stiles hadn’t felt in a long time. He could do it.

The first thing he did was climb a little rocky formation not too far away, to see where the hell were they. He reached the top with little fatigue, and looked down at the outskirts of the beach. Anya was sat comfortably on top of Skyler, while Bianca guided them both around. They looked like ants from the distance.

The water was shining, a deep blue colour, but there was no sign of the airplane. Even if it had fallen, it should at least have showed some sort of sign, right? At least some piece still floating? They couldn’t have been unconscious long enough for people to have come and collected every piece of it. They would have checked to see if anyone was on the land, right?

It didn’t look like they were on an island, but he couldn’t be sure. Perhaps it was a very big island? They had been flying somewhere above the Pacific, which was scattered with islands. There wasn’t any actual land for kilometres.

He descended after a few moments, heading towards the sea this time. He had spotted a secluded area not too far away from where the girls and the wolf were playing, and it seemed the perfect place to try out his rusty fishing skills.

Stiles was willing to admit that he wasn’t the best fisherman in the history of ever. He was awful. He should have gone out fishing with his dad more often. He tried to believe that he could fish, that he could get food, but apparently you couldn’t believe in skills you didn’t have.

He wasn’t hungry but he had two children with him. And a wolf. God knows how much they needed to eat. And so, he continued trying to fish.

He had only caught like three fishes he didn’t know, the size of sardines, when he first noticed the objects in the water. He couldn’t see exactly what they were, only aware that they were floating in their direction. Which was suspicious.

He stood up, the stupid fish forgotten as he snatched up the nearest thing he could use as a weapon. A stick. Uh-uh. And then he waited.

His eyes widened in shock when he finally realised what they were. He had assumed that his will had ended up blasting them as far away from the plane as possible, but… unless there had been another plane crash nearby, those were bags coming closer to them. He immediately jumped in the water, and a part of his brain picked on the fact that it was hotter than the water in California. He must be more towards south, then.

The salty water burned the numerous scratches on his body, but he kept his eyes open as he swam towards the bags. The current was in their favour, so he didn’t need to do much pushing before the three bags were securely on the beach. They were a set, and from the way the names and plane number had faded away, he guessed it hadn’t been their flight. He just hoped the contents weren’t too damaged.

The biggest bag was full of clothes and toiletries. Female clothes. Whoever it belonged to was older than Stiles, but he was sure he could fix them up and fit them to himself and the two girls. Thankfully there was a small sewing set with it too.

The second bag was equally full of clothes and water bottles. Mineral water, but not much food. Just a couple of bags of chips and sweets. The last bag was filled with books and more toiletries. Some hair brushes, a couple of shampoos and conditioners. But the best thing was that the bag was completely enveloped, in a fishing net.

The first thing he did was take off the fishing net and carefully put it where he had been fishing earlier. With the fishing net in place, he started cleaning up the clothes, bathing them once again in the fresh warm water. He piled them up in all what they could use (like trousers and the baby clothes), what could be used (a skirt can be a shirt if you are creative enough), and what was definitely unusable (what was he going to use the bras for?).

Once he was finished with cleaning and cataloguing the clothes, he laid them on the sand to dry off. He shifted the rest of the bags to dry off, too. The bags were big, and with the clothes they wouldn’t use, he could fix a makeshift bed for the two little ones.

He worked relentlessly for a few more hours, until Anya, Bianca and Skyler finally came back to him. Bianca and her sister were trying to outrun the wolf, who was pretending that they were too fast for him. Stiles found himself grinning as they came barrelling towards him. It was like having his own little family.

They both jumped at him, knocking his breath out, before starting to speak all at once, Skyler yipping and jumping all around them. He laughed again. “Ehi, ehi. Take a deep breath, and tell me what is going on.”

Bianca took a deep breath, but her twin jumped over. “We found a big box!” she said, excitedly, holding his hand with hers. Bianca nodded. “A big container.” She explained.

The wolf next to them seemed to nod solemnly and tried to push him on his feet by the hem of his sleeve, making Stiles yelp in alarm. If there was a container, there was a chance of sleeping somewhere that would not be too cold in the night.

They walked together towards the woods for a while, Anya holding one of his hands and Bianca the other, while Skylar guided them towards the container the two girls had found. It was definitely a container, the kind that you find on cargos. It wasn’t that far from the beach, almost stuck between the trees and the sand.

Being the son of the town sheriff, meant that Stiles was quick in breaking the lock, after making Skyler and the kids check that no heartbeat could be heard from inside or from around them.

His jaw dropped. The container was slightly ruined, and had several holes, but the content looked grade A okay. There was a car inside, and a small sidecar. A couple of bikes, but what surprised Stiles the most was the food. Wholesome food, chocolate, pasta, pots, bags of rice, mineral water bottles.

Anya and Bianca ran towards the two bikes, while Stiles went straight for the goods. There were a few pots, but no plates. His mind was already racing and working on how to prepare some, as he checked the dates on the foods. Some, like the chocolate (RIP), were expired, but the majority of it said that the food was valid until the next year.

He turned to the two girls with a smile. “You did a great job.” He told them, and they beamed at him, while the wolf yipped next to them.

The next few hours were long. Stiles tried to get most of the stuff out of the container, creating a little more space for the rest of them, but some, like the car and the sidecar, he just let them be. Once he finished with that, he went back to the beach and pushed out the net. There were more fish than he expected, and he allowed himself a fist pump as he took them to cook on the beach. The clothes were still mostly wet, but he decided that he could still use the bags for sleeping.

Stiles was an okay cooker, and he already knew how to cook a fish. He was quick and watched the girls running and playing with each other as he fried the fish and made a light soup out of another one. He was going to have to talk to them about their situation soon enough.

When the sun finally started to set, Stiles took the fried fish sticks and the soup and headed towards the container, the two girls jumping up and down behind him with the wolf. The first thing he did was start a fire. The flames had just begun appearing when Bianca let a scared scream. “No!” she called, pushing sand on the fire and trying to extinguish it.

Stiles pushed himself to his feet, moving her away from it, as she squirmed and screamed. “NO, Bianca, stop!” called Stiles, and she clawed at him, eyes burning golden.

“You said you were good, stop, stop! Turn it off! It hurts!” she was working herself in a panic attack, while Anya stood frozen on the other side with Skyler growling nervously. Stiles threw himself at the girl before she could stomp on the fire again, and held her by the shoulders as she tried to claw his face again.

“Bianca!” he said, sharply, and she ignored him, struggling. “Bianca, tell me what is it? You are going to get hurt!” he exclaimed, when she trashed for a few more moments. Stiles grabbed her, then, and moved farther away from the container, still in plain view for Anya and the wolf, and finally and slowly, Bianca started to calm down a little, the tears still rolling down her cheeks.

“Pack doesn’t hurt each other.” She hiccupped, and Stiles almost flinched away from her. She didn’t notice. “Then why did you start the fire?”

It takes Stiles a few moments before he finally realises what is going on. He remembered the way Bianca had panicked at the fire in the airplane, terrified, and he almost hit himself for not figuring it out before. He put an arm around her and put her in his lap, a sorry expression on his face. “Bianca… I would never hurt you. The fire… fire is not always bad.” He told her, earnestly.

She looked at him through tears filled eyes. Stiles patted her on the head. “I would never hurt you. Never. I want you and Anya to be safe, and maybe take you home to your Uncle.” He told her, and Bianca went stiff for a moment.

“We don’t have an uncle.” She said in the end, and Stiles looked at her puzzled. She rubbed her eyes. “We don’t have an uncle. After the house burned down and that woman took me and Anya out, they took us to the big house.” She told him.

Stiles tilted his head to the side. “To the Big House?” he asked, and she nodded.

“The big house with all the kids that are orph- orphy- orphuns” she struggled to say the word. Stiles looked at her sadly. “Orphans?” he asked, and she nodded.

“Yeah, with all the orphans. And then there was another wolf, but he wasn’t pack, he worked there, and he taught us how to keep in control, but he never let us scent mark him. And then the men came in, and they lied saying that we were going to see our uncle, but he let them take us away.” She explained in the end. She had finally stopped crying, and Stiles forced himself to remain calm and composed and keep his heartbeat steady to not freak them out, when all he wanted was find the man who had let them being taken away from the hunters and give him a piece of his own mind.

Stiles gave her a kiss on the forehead. “You should know that I would never hurt you. I know the fire is scary, but I’m with you. And so are Skyler and Anya. I would never hurt any of them.” He promised, and Bianca nodded slowly, reassured by how calm he was.

They made their way towards the fire again, and Anya sat up from where she was laying on top of Skyler, a thumb in her mouth. Stiles flashed them both a smile, and Anya returned it, giving her sister a brief hug. “Bianca?” she said, questioning.

Her sister sat behind her and Skyler, far from the fire, but she didn’t start panicking again. Stiles took it as a small win, and handed out their food. Anya spoke after taking a few spoonsful of her soup. “Where are we?” she asked, curios.

Stiles looked out of the room, at where the sun had finally disappeared under the sea. He would have eventually to tell them that he didn’t know. That he wasn’t sure how long they could survive on fish and whatever the food in the container.  But not today. It had been a long day already. It was hard to think that merely a few days ago he had been in Beacon Hills, slowly killing himself and losing his mind.

He turned to his new little pack, made of two baby werewolves and a wolf, and gave them a grin. “We are on an adventure.”

Anya clapped her hands, Bianca giggled and Skyler rolled her eyes at him.

Stiles woke up to someone breathing down his neck. Normally this would have been enough to have him jumping up and reaching for the nearest weapon, but he recognized who it was without even opening his eyes. “Go away, Skyler.” He huffed, and the wolf gave a low rumble that could have been a laugh.

She put her nose on his cheek, both scent marking him and trying to force him to wake up. Stiles tried to push her away. “Leave me alone…” he grumbled, and someone else sat on his stomach.

This time Stiles opened his eyes to see Anya, smiling sunnily at him from where she was sitting on him. She poked his nose and rubbed her hand on his cheek. “Wakey wakey.” She announced, and Stiles sighed, rubbing his eyes.

“How long have you been awake?” he asked, moving his aching limbs. He had slept in the seat of the car, and it had not been comfortable at all. Skyler had chosen to sleep in the sidecar, and he didn’t have much choice left. Thank god both girls fitted in the two bags, or Stiles wasn’t sure what he would have done.

Anya shrugged, as he finally sat up and stretched. “’M hungry.” She said instead, and Stiles nodded, still tired.

Waking up Bianca was a challenge. The girl whined and rolled on her bed, refusing to wake up and attaching herself to the closest thing to her (Stiles). The boy couldn’t even begrudge her. It was still early, and he would have slept soundly for another hour or so if it had been up to him. Nevertheless he held her as they made their way towards the beach again.

Stiles washed his face with the salty water and then proceeded to get out the biscuits and some of the mineral water for the two girls. Once they had eaten, he sent them off to play with Skyler, while he went to check in the woods for a while. He remembered reading somewhere that if there were that many trees, it meant that a source of water was nearby.

He noticed how the trees went from just green trees to more fruit trees, and it wasn’t too long before he heard the rumbling of water. A waterfall. The water was clear looking as it fell down, splashing on some rocks. The river continued in the opposite direction from where they came, but Stiles didn’t follow it. He knew himself well enough to know that if he tried to follow it, he would get lost.

The water was cold, but not too cold, ideal for a wash. As he had made his way towards the waterfalls, he had noticed a few mint sticks, plants of mint that they could probably chew on to make sure their breath didn’t stank.

Once he got back to the beach, he made sure to pack some of the dried clothes for the girls, and then brought them at the waterfalls. The trying to clean their teeth with mint had been hard, but once they saw the water, they were out of their clothes and inside before Stiles could even say ‘Go crazy’.

Skyler came to set next to him, observing and tolerating the water splashing for a while, before she dropped her head on Stiles’ leg, the boy absently petting her.

They set a routine. In the mornings, Bianca or Skyler, or Bianca and Skyler, would wake him up sooner than they were expected, and then Skyler would force him on a morning run. Since Bianca always refused to open her eyes and just complained, and clung on everyone, Stiles would hold her on his back as he ran, while Anya held tight on Skyler’s fur.

More often than not, after they ran, they took a wash in the water all together, Bianca waking up properly the moment she heard the sound of the falling water. Skyler huffed and growled, but she was always one of the last to leave the water once they had finished.

It took them a few days of Stiles studying the book his mother left him to realise that Skyler could change into her own animal at wish. And she did, allowing them to have fresh milk and eggs fresh in the mornings.

After having breakfast, the wolf decided that she would be training them all. Stiles had been sceptical the first time the wolf stood in front of him, book in her teeth and somehow opened a page of simple spark incantations. He didn’t think he was ready for that yet, but the wolf had disagreed. It was hard and tiring. Stiles tried his best, but each time he did it, especially the first time he tried a new incantation, he felt like he was about to faint from exhaustion.

Skyler also decided that the kids needed to train, and that was something Stiles understood, although wasn’t comfortable with. He knew what it was like to be put at the back of things, with everyone knowing how to defend themselves but you. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth, like every time he thought about Peter Hale, the Nogitsune or Gerard Argent.

So Stiles attempted to teach them some sort of self-defence. It was the basic sort of karate he had a vague idea of remembering from school, but it was actually Skyler who did most of the job. She would snap them right into their little werewolf mojo, attacking them but never once hurting them.

Then they would have lunch, sometimes at the beach and sometimes back in the container. Skyler usually took that time to take a nap, and Stiles was left to play tag or tell stories to the two kids. It wasn’t a hardship, and he enjoyed it more than he would like to admit.

He told them stories about his childhood, about his parents, and about his school. He told them a little bit about Scott, since Scott was basically his childhood, and Lydia, but tried to avoid talking about any of his pack mates too long. If he did, he would start longing for them, and he didn’t want to long for something he wasn’t sure he would even get.

When Skyler woke up, she would run with them on the beach again, and Stiles sat not too far, at the outskirts of the woods, nose deep in the book again. It was interesting, the book, saying more and more about the relationship between a familiar and its spark. The importance of setting up a mental connection with them, to make them different from an ordinary pet. They were too smart to be an ordinary pet anyway.

Finally they would have dinner, and then the two girls would finally go to sleep, worn out and exhausted. Stiles always put them in the two open bags and laid the bags inside the car, but by the time he was awake, somehow they were both pressed against him, craving the skin to skin contact even in their sleep. Werewolves were tactical creatures.

They had nightmares, all of them. Stiles could wake himself out of them and just the feeling of being squashed by those small little bodies, and Skyler who always seemed to knew when he was having a bad dream, was enough to lull him back in a somehow more peaceful sleep.

Bianca usually shook when she had a nightmare, and when she finally woke up crying over him, she would tell him what she dreamt about with frightening details. It was always the fire, but she dreamt about Stiles dying in it too, and that seemed to be what woke her up. Stiles helped her how he could with kisses and hugs, and she seemed to calm down after that.

The first time he heard Anya having a nightmare, Stiles was confused. She hadn’t been shaking, or crying out in terror. Stiles had woken up to see her just laying on his stomach, tears rolling down her cheek. When he had managed to wake her up, she had just held him with her arms around his neck. “Please don’t ever leave us, Tata.” She whimpered, using the polish version of dad that Stiles had told them his mom used to call his dad. He had been too exhausted to even ponder why she was calling him that, and just kissed her on the head and promised that he never would.

Their little pack was taking up most of his time, which is the excuse Stiles was going to use if anyone ever asked him how did he not see or remember of the full moon until it happened. He had a lot of clues that she should have picked up on, but he was too busy doing magic to even think about it.

The first sign that something was wrong came from Bianca that afternoon. She had been crankier than usual when Stiles had woken her up, but had seemed to snap out of it after a while. Until when Stiles was practicing magic under Skyler’s judgemental eye, and she had planted herself at his side, completely ignoring Anya who was drawing on the sand with her finger.

“I’m bored.” She said, crossing her arms over her chest, and Stiles nodded absently as he tried again with the magic.

Bianca didn’t budge, tugging at his sleeve. “Mr Stiles!” she said impatiently, and Skyler snapped her teeth at her.

“Bi, give me a sec, yeah?” he asked her, feeling the sparks coming from his hands.

Bianca let go of his sleeve and then walked away to the other side of the beach, leaving them alone.

When Stiles was finally done with his book, he looked at where she was sat all alone watching the waves, but before he could move towards her, Anya was beside him. “My hands hurt.” She told him, wiggling said hands in front of her.

There wasn’t anything out of the ordinary with them. They looked a little red at the top. “It’s probably all the sand that you were playing with.” He told her, and she looked offended at that, her eyes filling with tears.

“But I…” Stiles’ eyes widened, as the girl sat down on the ground and curled around herself, and Stiles immediately pulled her up on him, completely at loss on what the hell was happening.

“Hey, hey, Nya, it’s okay.” He promised, running a hand though the girl’s hair, as she clung on him, crying and scent marking him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you sad! Everything is okay.” He promised, and she sniffed in his calming scent, nodding at him. Skyler whined, and Stiles rolled his eyes at her. “Yeah, yeah, you big puppy, here’s your precious Anya.” He told the wolf, who glared at him, but nuzzled the little girl’s cheek.

Once he was sure Anya was somewhat calm, he made towards Bianca, who was still where she had been before, looking at the waves and the water. He sat next to her, and the girl refused to glance up at him. Stiles spoke anyway. “Are you okay, Bianca?”

The little girl took a rock from the beach and threw it in the water. “You don’t like me.” She stated, and Stiles looked at her like she had just grown another head. “Not like you like Anya.” She clarified.

Stiles put a hand around her tiny shoulders. “That’s not true, and you know it. I love you both.” He declared, and Bianca shook her head.

“It’s okay. Everyone loves the little ones.” She shrugged like it wasn’t big deal. “It’s- uhm, fine.” She told him, and Stiles put his hands on her shoulders.

“What did I- Did I do something?” he asked, and Bianca, swallowed.

“Yesterday I called you Tata.” She said instead, and Stiles remembered.

They had been playing tag, when Bianca had thrown herself at him, saying “Catch me, Tata!” Stiles had obviously caught her, but had immediately tickled her with his free hand. “I am not your Tata.” He had said, jokingly, knowing that his heart would tick him off, since he wasn’t, not really, but he basically was.

“Bianca, I-” he started, but her lower lip was already wobbling.

“You always let Anya call you Tata. Why can’t I?” she asked, and Stile gave her a hug, trying to soothe her.

“I didn’t- I’m sorry, Bianca. I can be your Tata.” He promised, and she had visibly relaxed, looking at him with wide eyes.

And Stiles totally meant it. This was more than a simple Pack. It was basically a family, and Stiles didn’t mind one bit. He liked them. He would protect them with his life. He wanted them safe. Didn’t that totally make him their dad?

It took the two of them wolfing out and Skyler howling at the moon, however to realise what it was going on. Bianca had attacked him and tried to bite him, while Anya had cried when her claw had finally appeared, probably for the first time. So that was why her hand hurt.

In the end, it didn’t even matter that much. The moment Bianca’s claws actually ended up hurting him and he hissed in pain, they were back human again, concern on their small faces. He definitely was their anchor as well, like Derek’s anchor had been his family. It was a nice thought.

For about two more weeks after the full moon events, Stiles and the kids trained and played there on the island. But the boy knew they couldn’t just stay there forever. They had to start moving, go somewhere. It was on one of those nights that Stiles read a page on Earth Sparks.

Earth Sparks have the ability to evolve themselves in witches more easily than any other spark kind, because of their affinity to Earth. Witches have affinity to Earth too, which is why Sparks of that kind are closer to them than any other. Witches always have sanctuaries in a particular forest or woodland: the bigger the forest, the higher number of sanctuaries you might encounter.

It wasn’t much to go on from, but it was all they had. From what he had read from the book, there were witch sanctuaries everywhere in the woods, and you just had to look for them. Stiles was as ready as he could be with the book, and he had also started to train and try to find the connection between him and Skyler.

So, with their bags magically shrunk and all their possession and transportable goods in there, the little pack finally left their house.






December - Allison's death

End December/beginning January - Stiles leaves Beacon Hills/accident happens



January - sheriff dies/comes back to life

February - Allison and Aiden come back to life/ Stiles and the twins live on the island

March - Stiles and the twins go to the witches

Chapter Text

“So, what you are saying is that, the two kids are the only alive members of their family?” asked Scott, a cautions look on his face as he read Danny’s notes.

The boy shrugged, looking at the laptop, and printing the papers. “I mean, this seems pretty clear to me. A fire, probably hunters. They were the only survivors. Stayed in an orphanage for a few years. Then they were adopted by someone who wanted to remain anonymous and booked on that flight. And disappeared.” He looked sceptically at Lydia and the rest. “You really think they aren’t dead?”

Malia answered. “The Sheriff came back from the dead. Literally.” She commented, and Danny nodded, looking like he still couldn’t wrap his head around that.

Lydia bit her lips. “We can’t be sure, but we can’t give up. This is our only possibility of finding Stiles.” She said, and everyone nodded, looking decepted.

Isaac came through the door, holding a couple of newspapers in his hands. “They still don’t know how many people are missing from the plane. It’s hard finding any piece that can be used for identification.” He told them, reading from a piece he had cut off him. He looked at them with and arched eyebrow. “You know rule number one: no body, no death.” He said, and they all nodded, albeit not looking like they agreed at all.

It had been a month from Stiles’ disappearance and school had restarted. The absence of Allison, Aiden, Ethan and Stiles hadn’t gone unnoticed, and the Pack had refused to undergo the flock of people asking them for what happened saying they were genuinely interested in their wellbeing. It was sickening.

Lydia nudged Ethan who had joined them and pointed him at Danny's phone, which was ringing. Ethan did not seem to care about Stiles at all, but he had looked incredibly surprised when he found out that the boy had left. Lydia could relate: if a few weeks ago someone told her that Stiles would leave the pack, she would have laughed in their face. Ethan only seemed to be helping them because it gave him something else to do apart from thinking about Aiden and whether or not he could have saved his brother.

The werewolf rolled his eyes at her and picked up Danny's phone, putting it immediately on speaker. "Ehi, guys! We have information." said Kira's voice, and Malia immediately moved closer, as if standing close to the phone meant that she was in any way closer to the girl. It came to no one's surprise that the two of them had gotten together.

Derek and Kira had left to go to the orphanatrophy and look for information regarding the two children and whoever had adopted them, since at the moment, they were the only link the pack had to Stiles. Derek had volunteered to go (probably because he couldn’t stand sitting there with the pack and no Stiles for much longer) and Kira had gone with.

“What is it?” asked Scott immediately sitting down next to Isaac. The two boys were always circling around each other, bound by their love for Allison and their affection for each other. Lydia was counting down the days until they finally got over it and started making out.

“We just left, Derek had to be calmed down a bit.” She said, and Lydia could imagine the fox glaring at the Alpha. Surprisingly she was one of the few people that could actually force Derek into doing anything. “There was a werewolf there, omega, casted out of Satomi’s pack for some reason. Anyway, he admitted that he tried to make sure the two girls didn’t out him or werewolves in general, but he didn’t scent mark them or allow a bond to form between them. He doesn’t like being a werewolf.” Scott looked down at his feet at that, and Isaac squeezed his shoulder. “At first he said that he didn’t know the guys that took them were werewolves, but then Derek flashed his blue eyes and he admitted everything. He said that they paid him for the kids and to keep quiet, but from what he heard they were reduce of a bad cocaine deal. Drug dealers. And they- the drug dealers and their bad bargain- are the reason the plane exploded. Two distance bombs inside their bags.”

“Is Derek all right?” asked Lydia, trying not to let her anger show. The man had basically enabled the plane to blow up and Stiles to possibly… no.

She could hear the grimace in Kira’s voice. “He tried to rip off the guy’s throat, but I stopped him in time and got him out. He’s still furious, but we are on our way back.” She said.

Danny grinned at Lydia with too much teeth. “I can think of a few ways to ruin that guy’s life.” He informed, and Kira chuckled from the phone.

“Please do.” Growled Derek, and Danny winked at them and moved back on his laptop.

Lydia didn’t move from her seat and looked as Malia gave Ethan back the phone and moved to the side of the loft alone. Ethan went to stand behind Danny, and reached out with a hand on the boy’s neck, his expression closing off. Scott and Isaac spoke to each other in low tones, shoulders touching.

Lydia felt utterly and completely alone. She blamed herself for Stiles’ disappearance, blamed herself for the way she had treated him because of Allison. After Jackson left, she had begun to have some sorts of friendship bond with the boy.. She liked him, him being one of the few that could keep up with in any situation. And now he was gone.

But she hadn’t screamed since the Sheriff died. Not once, and if she hadn’t screamed, it meant that no one from the Pack had died. But she kept feeling inside her chest as if she never had enough hair, like she needed to breath more and more. It kept getting harder. It had started after the Sheriff died. During those 10 minutes she had cried for a while, and then she had felt what she could only describe as some sorts of panic attack. She had breathed in and out and then she had taken a large gulp of air. And the Sheriff had opened his eyes.

She had told Derek about it, and he had just told her that he would look on it, but… what she hadn’t said was that she kept feeling it. It was getting harder to breathe, and something was nagging at the corner of her mind and- she knew.

She knew when Scott immediately stood up, looking at the door in horror.

She knew when Isaac sat frozen on the chair, his eyes on the door of the loft.

She knew when Ethan looked away from Danny to the other two wolves and to the door in confusion.

She knew when Malia stood up confused, saying “Someone’s coming.”

She knew before Isaac muttered “I know this heartbeat but this isn’t possible” and Scott shook, eyes flashing red as he growled at the door a warning.

She knew, but she wasn’t ready for Allison Argent to open the door still in her funeral dress.

The entire room froze, the wolves and humans alike staring at Allison like a ghost. Allison looked away from everyone else and her eye found Lydia, who was on her feet and staring at her in confusion. “Lydia.” She whispered, her eyes filling with tears, and Lydia was running, running towards her, neatly sidestepping the two betas and throwing herself at Allison, her best friend, her dead best friend who was alive, Allison was alive and Lydia’s heart was beating so fast it hurt.

“Allison! Ally! Oh my god, Ally!” she called, tears running down her cheeks and she looked at the brunette in the eye. Allison was crying too, and Lydia could only drink in Allison’s face, the rosiness of her cheeks and the grass and mud in her hair. “You are back.” She said stupidly.

Allison tried to move to rub her eyes, but Lydia couldn’t let her, she couldn’t let her go and Allison touched their foreheads together. “I am so sorry, Lyds.” She whispered again, and Lydia just shook her head, because she couldn’t find herself to care about what happened.

“My beautiful best friend.” Said the red head, and Allison’s eyes filled with more tears as she hugged her fiercely, almost hurting her. But Lydia welcomed this, welcomed the pain, because if it hurt, it meant it was real, and Allison was real and Lydia didn’t need anything else.

The spell was broken when someone else spoke, voice quiet and sad. “Allison? Is that you?” asked Scott, and Lydia finally let Allison out of the hug, still holding her hand in hers.

The werewolves was looking at the brunette like she was a ghost, and Lydia could relate. Allison nodded, tears streaming down her face too. “Yes, Scotty. It’s me, it’s me Allison-” the boy didn’t let her finish, moving quickly towards her and Lydia stepped back as he embraced her, barely reigning back his werewolf strength.

Scott inhaled her scent and he choked on a sob as Allison held him tight, her nails digging in his back. “I can’t believe this, but it’s your heart, it’s your scent, I remember, I know, but I just, Allison.” The wolf went quiet after this, eyes burning with unshed tears as he held on his miraculously undead ex girlfriend.

Isaac stared at her from a distance but didn’t dare move until Allison let go of Scott. Lydia glanced between the three of them suddenly nervous, gravitating next to Allison. “Allison is dead.” He said, and the brunette didn’t flinch, just shook her head.

“It’s me, Isaac, it’s me, I promise”

“How can I be sure? What if you are someone- something else?” he asked, and Lydia understood him. She could see his need to believe her and his fear. He wanted to believe her, but he didn’t want to be wrong, he didn’t want her to wind up being a monster: he wouldn’t be able to deal.

But Lydia knew she was Allison. This was real, it was her best friend. She just knew. Allison nodded moving slowly towards him, and Isaac didn’t move away. “I know you have a birthmark on your inner tight, just like your mum. I know you have a brother named Camden and that he was your best friend. I know that you don’t hate Stiles like you always say you do and that he is actually one of your best friends.” At every sentence she took a step closer to him, and he didn’t flinch away when she finally touched his cheek with her cold hand. “And I know that you have a big heart, and that you love me.” She said in the end, and Isaac crumbled in her hug.

He put his head on her shoulder, shaking slightly as he did so. Scott didn’t look annoyed, he just drank it the view of Allison, and who could blame her? Once she let go of Isaac, Danny moved forward with a grin. She smiled back. “You in on the big secret now?” she asked, and Danny laughed as he hugged her.

“Y’all were never exactly good at hiding shit.” He told her with a smirk, and she gave him a wet smile. Ethan had disappeared from the room, and no one could blame him. Lydia moved next to Allison again, holding on to her best friend’s hand, and Allison squeezed it back, looking around the room and waving at Malia confusedly.

“Where is everyone else and who is she?” she asked, and Lydia exchanged a glance with Scott.

“Derek is out with Kira looking for something. That’s Malia, Derek’s cousin and Kira’s new girlfriend.” She said, hoping it would distract Allison, but the girl merely looked at Scott for a moment before turning her full attention on the pack.

“What about Stiles? Where is Stiles?” she asked, and the room fell silent.

"He isn't here." said Scott in the end, and Allison's frown deepened even further at the reluctant admission.

"When you say he's not here..." she said looking at him and Scott immediately caved.

"He left Beacon Hills, he left the Pack. We are still trying to find him." he confessed and Allison would have taken a step back if she wasn't currently holding Lydia's hand.

"Stiles?! Stiles would never leave the pack!" she said and then she stopped. She suddenly looked as fierce as ever and if this wasn't proof that she was actually Allison, Lydia didn't know what was. "The Nogitsune. How long has that been? How long has Stiles been gone?" she asked, and Lydia answered.

"You died" a wince from everyone in the room "two months ago, almost three. Stiles has been gone for a month and it's bordering 2 months." Lydia didn't want to say that she knew precisely the days Stiles had been gone. It had been 57 days since he had smiled at them all and walked out of the very same loft.

Allison looked shook, like a very fundamental of her life was gone. Lydia could relate. "But... why didn't you reassure him? He must have thought it was his fault! You know how Stiles is!"

They did know how Stiles was, but they had neglected him, forgot about the human of the pack who had been attacked by a very powerful wolf spirit and they hadn't been there to try and fix him somehow. They had chosen to grieve and ignore him and almost mindlessly blame him. Allison could read between the lines, could see that they knew and blamed themselves enough already. She didn't say anything and just looked outside with a pensive expression. Danny, thank god, decided to break the silence.

"How are you back?" he asked, and Allison looked at them with a distressed look.

"I don't know." she admitted, and took a breath. "I remember dying in Scott's arms. Then all I remember suddenly waking up in a white room and they told me that I had a debt." she said, and Lydia looked at her sharply, remembering Stiles' father's words.

"You owed a debt to whom?" she asked, and Allison bit her lip.

"The clerk or whatever said that I owed a debt to the town of Beacon Hills. That I vowed to protect those who cannot protect themselves and left before I could do that." she looked at Lydia in the eye. "Stiles claimed that dept." she expressed, and Lydia nodded to herself again. It made some sense probably, but they needed Deaton for help. The same Deaton that was currently on holiday. Allison kept talking. "I left by a side room and woke up again lying on my grave. I didn't crawl out or anything, thank god. And Derek's house is the closest from the cemetery, and I really didn't want to go to the Station, you know?" she told them, and suddenly she smiled again and reached to hug Lydia. "And you were all here."

Lydia squeezed her back and that's when Ethan came crashing out of the bathroom. He didn't spare any of them a look and jumped out of the window. Isaac let out a sound of surprise and the pack rushed to look out of the window in confusion. Derek and the Sherriff’s car were both parked outside and Ethan made a beeline for the Sheriff's house. By the time Kira and Derek climbed out of the Camaro, Ethan was in the back sit of the Sherriff’s car and was clutching at someone and crying his eyes out.

Lydia knew who that someone was before the rest of the Pack walked out of the front door. She knew before seeing the Sherriff’s very confused expression or Kira's big wide eyes or without having to smell the surprise rolling off Derek. Surprise that became incredulity when Kira and him noticed Allison holding Lydia's hand.

Ethan ignored them all, holding on the other boy's shirt. "Don't you ever dream about leaving me behind ever again you fucking bastard, you traitor, you-" he said between hiccups, and his brother just held him stronger.

"I'm so sorry, Ethan." Said his brother, his twin, the other side of him.



Allison didn’t remember anything at all about being dead, but she did feel dizzy and constantly tired at the complete change in time continuum. When she had died, they were just about to go on school break, and students and teachers hadn’t seen her in weeks. No one knew she was dead, thank god, but no one expected her to be back either.

The first thing she had gone was explain the entire thing again to Derek, Kira and the Sheriff, before Derek called her father to explain what had happened. She had been wary, worried that her father wouldn’t want to see her, but within hours Chris Argent’s flashy car was outside the loft and he was holding Allison like it was the only thing keeping him alive. He had cried right along with her and then they had gone home.

The Sheriff had occupied himself with destroying her death certificates and had welcomed her back in the same way he did when she and Stiles had become best friends during Sophomore summer break.

Her father had tried to get her to leave Beacon Hills with him, but even as he tried he knew it was a lost cause. She was loyal to the town and she always would be.

Derek, unsurprisingly, was the only who treated her still with mistrust. She wasn’t sure if it was because of her sudden reappearance or had something to do with the fact that she was still an Argent, an enemy in his eyes, and he was a normal beta now. But she needed to talk to him.

Which was why she asked him to meet up with her after he had finished dealing with whatever her father had contacted him about. She trusted his nose to come and find her. 

The room was tapestried with paintings and pictures everywhere, images of the small Beacon Hills. The paintings weren’t actually that similar to the real episodes, but at the same time you could easily know what was being represented.

Derek stepped in the room after her, and stopped dead, staring around him at the colours and the arms around him in awe. Allison didn’t sy anything, just dropped her knives on one of the tables and sat down on the floor, looking in his direction with her hands clasped in her lap.

“I don’t know why are you still angry at me but super cool with my dad, but if it’s something I’ve done, then I’m sorry.” She said in the end. The werewolf stared right back at her for a moment.

“I should be the one apologizing.” He said in the end, and Allison looked at him sceptically. He almost smiled. “It’s just… you died. But you are back. Why you? What makes you so special?” he wasn’t looking for an answer, but the way he looked at her made her want to look away from him.

She shrugged. “We should be asking Deaton.” She glanced at him from under her bangs. “Or Stiles.” She added.

Derek froze for a moment, finger clenching and unclenching for a few seconds. He cleared his throat. “Yeah.” He muttered in the end, and finally Allison stood back up again.

“Pretending that you are not hurt doesn’t help anyone, Derek, especially if you end up going around snapping at everyone else.” The werewolf looked at her with a warning clear in his eyes, and she rolled her eyes. “You see this paintings, all of these drawings? He made them.” She told him, and Derek glanced back at the biggest paint in the room.

It was a painting in watercolours of the entire pack. Some of them were more defined than the others, and it took Derek a few seconds to realise who it was in the drawings. Sat on a couch, in order was Erica, Cora, Allison and Lydia. At each side of the couch stood Boyd and Jackson respectively. At the feet on the couch, laying back to back were Isaac and Scott and standing behind the couch was him. With Stiles at his side. There was a triskelion on the side of the painting with the words Hale Pack etched in a clear and strong handwriting.

Boyd, Erica and Allison were more watery than the rest, almost as if he had willingly gone and splashed some water around their edges after finishing the paintings. Derek didn’t need anyone to tell him that he probably had done it after their deaths.

Derek stared at the painting for a few seconds more than necessary, and almost missed when Allison started speaking again. “It took him almost the entire summer to finish off that thing, and he was lucky we found Cora before he finished it. He almost gave up 10 times and once I had to stop him from throwing a bucket of water at the painting.” She chuckled a little, and then took a deep breath.

“Did you at least tell him he was your mate?” she asked, and this shook Derek out of his trance. He whipped his head around in surprise, and she just rolled her eyes staring at him expectantly. “Well?”

Derek crossed his arms around his chest, his expression thunderous. “How do you know?” he asked instead of answering.

Allison sighed, opening one of a drawer in the room and taking out a small leather bound notebook. “You can keep this. But you should have told him.” She said evenly, throwing the notebook at him and stepping out of the room.

Derek knew who it belonged to before he even opened the first page. Now that he concentrated, he could smell Stiles under the smell of colouring and pastels in general. He sat down on the paint ruined carpet and opened the first page of the notebook.

Stiles Stilinski Hale Haleinski Stilinski-Hale’s personal journal .

Derek started reading.


Stiles studied his surroundings from the corner of his eyes but still kept the woman in his line of sight. He couldn't afford to give her his back. He was almost certain that there weren't any witches hiding close by, but he couldn’t be 100% sure of that. The only things currently close to him where the trees behind him and the creek rumbling loudly from his left. Controlling water wasn't his forte, and he definitely did not have a penchant for Earth and that stuff. But he had run with wolves for at least two years, he had picked up a trick or two.

The woman started walking towards him, lifting up her hand with a smirk on her pretty face and Stiles sprang. He made a run for it, jumping up and grabbing the lowest branch of the tree. Then he quickly climbed further up the tree, hiding in the green foliage while the woman titted annoyed. "You are an inconvenience, Stiles." she hissed, but he didn't let it fool him. He had few minutes, tops. She didn't need to climb the tree to find him. The moment she realised what branch he was holding on to, she could will it to rot and make him fall down. He knew for a fact.

He closed his eyes for a second, concentrating on his surroundings again. The creek rumbled in answer and the earth shifted a little as if answering his mind call. He wasn't the best at it, but he could try.

Stiles jumped down the tree, landing further away than the woman expected and immediately dropped on his side, rolling on the floor as a jet of green light soared past him. She swore and Stiles used that moment of semi distraction to call the water to him.

This was one of his favourite moments, when he managed to get the elements to answer him. The water from the creak rose out like a giant wave and rushed at her after Stiles made a single gesture. The woman flipped him off right as the water crashed into her, shoving her against a tree, but not knocking her out. She managed to still give him a look of pure judgement. "That was truly awful." she said in the end, and Stiles looked at her outraged.

"What? I think I did great! I almost knocked you out!" he complained, and she rolled her eyes at him.

"Almost is not good enough. Do you want to almost knock out someone who is trying to kill you? Do you want to show that you are almost good enough?" she asked, and then stood up, cleaning her clothes. "Enough for today." she decided and walked away from him with a final contempt filled look.

Stiles glared after her for a while before finally making his way back towards the sanctuary. He walked past Skyler napping on the ground next to the rest of the witches’ familiars, and dropped next to another witch sat alone on the porch. She grinned at him, and he winked. "Calliope is an awful witch." he told her, and she wrinkled her nose at him.

"She is great." she answered, so half-heartedly that Stiles cracked a smile.

"You good?" he asked then, eyeing her bump with a frown. The woman nodded, glancing down at her baby bump.

Her name was Narcissa, and she was a witch too. Like every other witch in the small coven she had toast coloured skin and dark hair. She spoke English too, along with Calliope and a couple more witches, while the rest spoke a Peruvian dialect. Or what Stiles assumed was a Peruvian dialect, since he was still unsure of where they were.

Finding the sanctuary had not been too hard, and the witches had been hospital. They had made sure he understood where he stood from the moment he joined. He wasn't part of the coven. Yes, they would help him, house him and his little pack, and teach him, but if worse came to worse, they wouldn't think twice about living him behind and them behind. The coven used to live with a pack of werewolves with whom they had an allegiance, but the wolves had been attacked by hunters. The majority had died, but a few of them had came here with the coven in search of protection. One of them had been Narcissa's husband. Or boyfriend, since Calliope nor any of the witches recognised the marriage between the two of them. The werewolf had died a few months before Stiles came, leaving behind a heartbroken and pregnant Narcissa.

Narcissa bumped their shoulders together. "I'm good. Look, your children." she said then, motioning with her head to the twins who were running towards him at full speed. Bianca was the first to reach them, her clothes dirty from rolling down on the floor, with his notebook in her hands. Anya stopped between him and Narcissa and grinned, handing him what looked like a drawing of him.

Sometimes it was still hard thinking of them as twins or as his children at all. They were even different heights, but they had told him that they were, in fact, both 4. The coven had looked surprised at seeing two twin wolves with him, but they hadn't even thought of asking, assuming that they were his blood kids. It just had stuck in the end, and everyone was happier like this anyway. He allowed the two to scent mark him and hug Narcissa, before opening his notebook.

This was one of the few things that the coven had given with him, along with a journal for all the spells he could learn and a few books on other supernatural creatures. He wrote notes on the journey on the notebook and drew. He drew images of plants he used, places he had been and people. There were an awful lot of pictures of the twins and Skyler and at least two images of Narcissa too. He had taken the poor witch under his wing, since the majority of people seemed to hate her for what she was carrying in her womb. 

Stiles resumed his latest image, listening with half an ear to Bianca's continue chatter and Anya quiet telling Narcissa about her day. They trained too, with the rest of the young wolves that had survived the attack. Stiles hadn't been too happy about it, but Skyler had glared at him until he agreed to let them.

A woman with her hair collected in a braid appeared in front of them, glaring at them. "Lunch is ready." she said primly and sneered at Narcissa. "The Head wants to see you."

Stiles gave her a fake smile. "Careful, Lamia, you might accidentally die from being so nice."

The witch rolled her eyes at him and turned away, walking back towards the centre of the sanctuary. Narcissa gave him a look. "You shouldn't be so rude to Lamia. She is rude, but she is still a great witch." she warned.

Stiles helped her up to her feet scowling at the ground. "She's an ugly, old, annoying spinster." he answered, and the woman laughed.

"See you later, Stiles!" she waved, making her way towards the common room. Stiles looked after her in worry. She was pregnant, Jesus! Couldn't they postpone or come to her?

He turned to the twins who were talking in hushed tones to each other and placed a kiss on their foreheads. "You go and eat, I'll just join you in a bit." He promised and they disappeared pretty quickly, probably joining the other werewolf kid on the camp, Falcon.

He watched them running to join everyone else, but still didn’t miss the big wolf making its way towards him. Skyler didn’t even growl in acknowledgement, just appeared and flopped down at his feet, content.

Stiles closed his eyes. The witches were a little tiring and rude, but they were efficient. He had mostly grasped the art of communicating with his familiar without using words, and he could summon his mother without any trouble at all.

She appeared in his mind easily now, arms wrapped around her chest and an easy smile on her face.

Son. Whats up?

Stiles rolled his eyes at his mother. Don’t ever ask me, what’s up again.

Okay, damn, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.


What-ev-uh. So, why do you summon me here, young Stiles?

I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that. Anyway, Sorry for getting in touch earlier. The coven was different from what I expected .

Well, it could be that it’s because it’s a women strictly coven?

Ah-ah. No, what I mean is that they are not like…

They are not as unified and loving as a werewolf pack.

Yeah. And they don’t seem to like me.

Uh. What about that other witch, Narcissa?

Narcissa is great! She’s so sweet, and she doesn’t care what anybody else says, she’s always nice to me and the kids.

She’s pregnant, isn’t she? How did she get pregnant?

You know the pack that’s living with them? Yeah, a member of the pack that is currently dead was her mate. He died in an attack and left her with an unborn child.

Oh, poor woman.

But she’s fine!

What do you mean?

Everybody seems to be under the impression that she needs help, or someone to look after her, or that she will break or something. She is fine. She knew what was going to happen when she started dating a werewolf. She knew the dangers awaiting for her. The death of her husband might hurt her forever, but she isn’t alone! He left her with a beautiful baby that’s going to grow up in a beautiful werewolf, and that’s why all the other witches are jealous. Because although they told Narcissa not to wed a werewolf she did, and even when he died, she still has something beautiful and important that he left her.

You feel strongly on this subject.

Let’s just say that I’m familiar dealing with stubborn people, werewolves and stubborn werewolves. He died protecting the coven, not valuing his life: I had to ask her if she was sure her husband wasn’t Derek Hale.

So, that’s who you are still crushing on!

I am not crushing on Derek !

Is that so?

… I’ve been in love with Derek for almost a year now, and I know for a fact that we are mates

So why did you not get together?

Derek needs time to heal. He needs time to build his trust on me, time to realise what a good person he is. I’m not the easiest person to deal with, I’ll admit that. Derek needs to know what he’s getting himself into.

Spoken like a real Stilinski. Awh, you are blushing, how cute!


I wanted to say something, but I don’t know how you’ll take it.

What is it about?

About some of your friends. Pack, I guess.

… go on.

You know what I told you about your spark? About the Nogitsune energy that you helped you bring Anastasia and Bianca back?

You said that I burnt all that was left from the Nogitsune and that my spark burned brighter than ever.

Exactly. Your spark burning so bright gave you hell of a lot of power. So much power cannot be dispelled just by bringing back two small souls.

What? I don’t understand

What I mean is that you can’t have possibly brought only Anya and Bianca. You brought more people back to life.

What?! That’s crazy, how would I even…? You said it’s not possible!

I never said that. What I did say is that you are powerful, Stiles.

So who did I… Who did I bring back?

Usually 7 is a magical number in these situations, just saying. Whose deaths do you think have been unfair? Whose deaths would you prevent if you could go back in time?

7… Bianca and Anya should count as one, shouldn’t they? Well, Allison, of course. Maybe… I don’t know, Aiden? It was my fault he died. Boyd and Erica, without a shadow of doubts. We should have saved them. But who’s seventh? Or sixth if you count Bianca and Anastasia as one?

I don’t know exactly who’s alive and who’s not. I just wanted you to know that some people are back alive. Good people, of course.

Are you leaving already?

Your friend Narcissa is coming back, and she seems upset.

Oh. Okay. Love you, mama.

Love you three, son.

When Stiles reopened his eyes, his mother was gone. Skyler was still yawning at his feet and looking relatively bored, while Narcissa…

The woman was standing in a corner of the clearing, facing the water of the Lake, but from the way her shoulders were shaking slightly, Stiles immediately guesses she was crying.

Stiles looked down at Skyler with an arched eyebrow until the she wolf huffed and left, pouncing towards the food section of the sanctuary. He made his way towards Narcissa, trying and failing to ignore the worry that was gnawing inside him. He grabbed a chair as he made his way and waved at Bianca and Anya, before stopping next to the older girl. Narcissa looked at him in surprise, wiping a few tears with the sleeve of her cotton shirt. "Oh, Stiles."

The boy put down the chair, and she sniffed, taking a seat. Stiles chose to sit on the ground close to her feet, so that she could reach out and touch him if she wanted. Narcissa stared at the lake for a few moments before taking another deep breath. "I am sorry." she said in the end.

Stiles didn't look up at her, starting to draw the lake before them on the small notebook using the grass. "Whatever you are sorry for, you probably shouldn't even be." When she didn't say anything, he huffed. "Which of the elders should I beat up?" he asked instead.

She gave a shaky laugh. "I should thank, more like. This time they helped me." she confessed, and this made Stiles turn around. One thing about Narcissa was that she couldn't lie to save her face. Her face was tear strained but open, and he could see that she was telling the truth. Even if it didn't make sense.

The elders had gone out of their way and beyond to make sure that Narcissa was treated badly because had broken the rules of the Sanctuary and married a mutt. They may be friendly towards werewolves because of social and political reasons, but they weren't their number one fans. So the idea of them helping Narcissa was a little unbelievable.

She poked him with her foot and shrugged, one hand going to rest on her stomach. "Someone tried to poison me." she whispered in the end, staring up at the sky.

Stiles turned to look at her in horror and shock. "What?! Are you okay?! Who was it, tell me you are okay, please, I swear I'll make them pay-"

The girl seemed surprised at his sudden reaction, but was quick to shake her head. "No! The Elders caught them, and they are being judged. Or she is being judged." she explained, and Stiles sat back down, still annoyed.

"Who was it? And why would they do that? How did they manage to do that?!"

Narcissa ran a hand through his hair with a grimace. "She wasn't actively seeking to kill me, but... she put wolf bane in my food." The anguish in her voice was real, as her eyes started to fill with tears again. Stiles stood up again. "Stiles, she tried to poison me and kill my baby!" she cried in his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her, murmuring sweet nothings at her. "Lamia tried to murder my child..." she continued crying, and Stiles fought against the instincts to lash out and hunt down the other witch himself. "I mean, I know she hated me, but... murder? This is more than her just trying to keep up the reputation of our Coven, this is one step too far!"

Stiles agreed with her. "There must be something else the elders aren't saying." he muttered in the end, and she moved out of his arms, holding his in hers.

"There is." she told him, letting the tears flow down her cheeks. "They also said that we will have to move soon. But I can't move." she confessed, and horror filled Stiles once again once he realised what she meant.

"Someone is coming. And they are planning on letting you die here alone." he said and her face crumbled. She looked down at the ground, tears rolling down her cheeks and on the clean cut grass. Stiles couldn't believe, and yet he could easily do.

They believed she was a disgrace. She was the only victim of the attempt poisoning. Whoever was looking for the witches, whoever sent Lamia to kill Narcissa, only wanted her death. Not the entire clan. And they were ready to let her die for the greater good.

"No." he said, aloud, surprising even himself. Narcissa didn't look up. "I'm not leaving you alone. No way, we're leaving together or I'm staying right here with you." he promised.

Narcissa smiled down at the ground. "You can't." she said simply. The teenager stared down at her for a few moments, before lifting her chin up with his fingers.

"You think I don't understand it and that I can't possibly think that I'm just allowing my kids to get hurt for no reason." He knew that they could possibly die, but he had Skyler. If worse came to worse, she could flee with them. He would devise a plan, find a way. "But you are my friend, Cissy. I can't leave you and Cissy JR alone. I would never be able to live with myself again." he told her truthfully.

She wiped her tears with her sleeve. "Mikael or Nathaniel." she said, and rolled her eyes at his confused expression. "Not Cissy JR." she explained.

Stiles made a face at the name. "What if it's a girl?" he asked instead.

She grinned and winked at him. "Leia." she said simply, and Stiles clutched his heart.

"Really? Really?!"

She patted his cheek with a soft hand. "Leia is a witch name, and I had it chosen before you came here with your Star Wars nonsense. It means relaxed. It's an old Hebrew name." she explained. "Nathaniel is also a Hebrew name. It means God has given. Mikael means smart, wise man."

Stiles arched an eyebrow at her. "Name have power." he said in the end, and she smirked at him.

"Indeed they do, Stiles Stilinski." she said with a knowing look. Stiles pretended to look elsewhere, until she looked away. She smiled and allowed him to help her up, as they made their way to where the food was laid together.

Anya smiled when they plopped down on the seat next to her, leaning in his side while Skyler yipped happily at their feet. Bianca was busy arguing with another werewolf boy but stopped to wave at him. "Tata, I hate this." said the girl motioning towards her plate overflown with vegetables.

Stiles arched an eyebrow. "Then why did you pick it? You know the rules." he tsked, and she frowned at the plate.

"But Bianca took it as well, so.... I'm still hungry." she complained.

Stiles poked her stomach a few times, making her giggle. "But Bianca ate all of her hers, didn't she? And now she is full, so it's your turn to eat it all." he told her, with a serious face. "Or the king of Vegetables won't be happy."

She looked at him doubtfully. "There is no king of vegetables." she said, but she sounded unsure in herself.

Stiles looked at her affronted. "Sure there is! Who do you think tells the veggie to grow up strong and big so that we can eat it? The King of Vegetables." he assured. Anya looked down at the food suspiciously. "And what must he think of you now! He's probably so sad that he's crying. Do you want him to cry?" he asked again, pushing the food in front of her.

Anya sighed loudly. "Will he be happy if I eat it?" she asked.

"You won't see him, but he will be ecstatic." Promised the boy and mentally fist pumped when she mumbled and muttered under her breath but started eating anyway.

Before he could even say anything more, though, Bianca stalked towards him, plopping down on his lap. "Ugh." she hissed, glaring in the direction of the other werewolf who was scowling right back at her. Stiles wrapped his arms around her waist and she started talking right away. "I hate Moneu. He's so annoying, I don't want to train with him ever again." she complained, and Stiles bit his lip to avoid a smile.

"What did he do, now?" he asked, and Bianca turned her serious expression on him.

"He said that Anya is his new best friend." she complained. Stiles would have laughed if she hadn't looked so angry. "He wants to steal her from me."

Stiles pressed a kiss on her head. "Queen B, he could never do that. Nya loves you too much. You are sisters, twin sisters. You will always be best friends." he reassured her. It had come as a surprise when Anya had started making friends faster than Bianca. All the baby wolves and the baby witches fussed over her all the time, but Bianca... She didn't like letting them close, seemed content in playing with Skyler and allowing them to train with her occasionally. She was also possessive of her sister.

Bianca bit her lip and turned her attention to her twin. "We are best friends, right, Anya?” she asked, and her sister grinned up at her.

"Yes! For-ev-er." she promised, and Bianca smiled back, moving to sit next to her smaller twin.

Stiles looked at them both for a while before remembering Narcissa, who was looking at them with a soft smile. She bumped her shoulder with his. "I wish I'm ever as good as a parent as you are."

Stiles ducked his head, but couldn't hide the smile on his face.


Stiles should have known better than be hopeful that the coven would change their mind. The Elders didn't even allow him in, let alone let him speak his mind. Calliope looked at him like 'I told you so', but didn't show any other support.

Narcissa was sick. She was even more easily tired than before, and had taken to spend her time holed up in her cabin, not coming out for meals or anything. The only people allowed inside were Stiles and Skyler, since she couldn't even muster the energy to entertain the two children.

Stiles ran a hand through his hair with a frustrated expression. His hair was seriously getting too long. He was going to cut it, one of those days. Calliope glared at him. "Listen, Stiles. I told you already. The evacuation has started, and me, you and the elders are the only ones remaining. We have to go!" she declared, and Stiles glared right back.

He and Calliope weren't friends, too different views to function. But he had come to appreciate her wit and her unsubtle jabs at him and his methods. She was like that aunt everybody hates at family events but that you can't help but invite anyway, just for the drama of it. Right now, though, Stiles wanted to hit her. "Shut the fuck up. You know that Narcissa is here too!" he hissed, but she didn't back off.

She didn't even look fazed, just scrunched her nose in distaste. "She asked for it! If she hadn't chased that mutt like the elders told her not to, she would be fine and dandy right now." she explained.

Stiles was very fucking close to hit the woman. "My daughters are just like that mutt." he told her, and she paled suddenly, looking a little sorry.

"Stiles, look-"

"No, you look, Calliope. I haven't been here for long, but if there is someone who actually made me feel comfortable in my own skin, someone here who I can call a friend, then it's Narcissa. She was pregnant when I came, and yet somehow, she took me under her wing, looked after me, made sure I got enough sleep, I spoke to everyone. She taught me Spanish, she joked around with me, and she never made me feel like a lesser human being. If there is someone who deserves saving, then it's her." he insisted.

The words barely seemed to register with Calliope. She tutted nervously as the elders looked in her direction, obviously ready to leave. "What about your children? Are you really considering letting them die because of a witch who got herself knocked up?"

Stiles raised to his full height, ignoring the feeling at the pit of his stomach. "My children will be raised knowing what a good woman Narcissa is, and will not be part of your little coven of cowards. Because this is what you all are. Cowards." he spat the word, and Calliope flinched. "You think you're all mighty and shit, when in fact you are the first to abandon one another when faced with hardship. All Cissy needed was a loving coven. An accepting coven. What she got was a group of cowards who was ready to let her die because they were too scared to stay and help/protect her."

Calliope looked hurt, but refused to show it. She sneered. "Oh yeah, because of course the mighty Stiles Stilinski is better than everyone, isn't he?"

Stiles looked towards Narcissa's cabin. "No. I'm a coward too. But this doesn't mean I won't help Cissy in any way I can."

Calliope seemed to deflate a little, ignoring one of the Elders calling her. “You have to know that us, the coven… we love Narcissa. She knows we love her.”

Stiles knew. He had seen it in the way they didn’t just allow Lamia to murder her.             In the way someone always made sure there was food outside her cabin since she stopped coming out. In the way Narcissa didn’t seem bothered at all by the comments and insults Lamia left. In the way she always waved at the wolves and the witches, and even if they didn’t wave back, they would flash a smile at her.

“Prove it.” He said in the end, staring into Calliope’s startling black eyes

Calliope looked down at her feet. “We can’t. We have no other choice.” She looked helpless, but Stiles just shook his head at her resolutely.

“We always have a choice.” He said.

He nodded at her and ignored her cries of ‘Stiles!’, running towards Narcissa's cabin. It didn't make him any better knowing that he had gotten the last word, because he still failed. They still left. He was alone with two children, a pregnant woman and a wolf.

He had sent Skyler in the woods to alert them of anything coming their way, and left Bianca and Anya in their cabin, with a rune of invisibility casted on them. They didn't know what was going on, obviously, but still decided to remain like he asked them to.

He pushed Narcissa's door open, and quickly found the woman. She was laying on her bed, arms wrapped around her stomach in pain and forehead sweating. She barely had enough energy to raise her head and look at him. But her eyes…

Stiles had expected her to be scared. In pain, even, terrified. He really should have known better. Narcissa looked as fierce as ever and strong as ever, as she breathed evenly through her nose. “They gone?” she asked, when the brunette appeared next to her, looking around himself helplessly.

Stiles nodded, clenching and unclenching his fists. “Yeah.” She bit her lower lip in pain, and he dropped on his knees, caressing her hair with one hand. “I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing.” He admitted and she gave him a small smile.

“I sent Eureka to find a fae.” She clenched her jaw, another wave of pain hitting her. “We are getting this kid alive, even if it’s the last thing I ever do.” He promised and Stiles nodded.

He couldn’t even bring himself to ask the very obvious questions going on in his mind. Like So his book hadn’t lied, faeries existed? Where would Eureka (her parrot familiar) find one? Where did faeries even live? Instead he focused on his breathing and Narcissa’s, petting her hair and dropping a kiss on her forehead. “Just hold on, then. We will definitely make it, right?” he asked, and she gave him a small smile.

It seemed an eternity later when the door finally opened, and the parrot came flying in. He flew distressed in the room, before perching itself in the space between Stiles and Narcissa. Stiles’ eyes were still on the door, though.

The person who walked in was… a kid.

She looked like a kid. Stiles gaped at the figure in front of them. She looked about 9, 10 if he had to stretch the age. Her hair was long and a little below her waist and her eyes were huge and blue. Her skin tone was almost surprising to Stiles: she was almost paler than him. Her skin was completely unmarked, and she was wearing a green dress that looked like it belonged to the Victorian Age and a small green crown over her head.

She gave the room a disapproving look before her gaze settled on Stiles. She looked between him and Narcissa with an unimpressed eyebrow raise. “You the father?” she asked, an accent that he couldn’t quite place in her voice.

He shook his head violently, but then the witch hissed in pain on the bed, and the fae was next to her in a second. She looked down at her for a moment before nodding to herself and snapping her fingers. One of the Narcissa’s duvet flew on the floor, while the fae caressed the woman’s stomach. “Werewolf baby.” She assumed, and Narcissa nodded feebly.

The fae turned to look at Stiles. “Spark, move her on the duvet.” She instructed, disappearing further inside the house.

Stiles swallowed the feeling of discomfort at being ordered around by a kid and did as instructed. At least she seemed to know what she was doing. “Ready, Cissy?” he asked, and the witch closed her eyes, nodding.

The sound of pain she made when Stiles started raising her up where almost enough for him to drop it completely and let her lay down again. The fae appeared next to him in a few seconds, hot water in a basket and a couple of towels with her. She dropped them down and sent a couple of pillows flying on the duvet. “Now, Spark.”

The brunette nodded again, ignoring Narcissa’s laboured breaths and then putting her down as carefully as he could. The fae nodded at him, her serious expression not matching her age at all, and then she sat down between Cissy’s legs. “Hi. What’s your name?” she asked, massaging her feet and subtly rearranging the pillows.

Narcissa’s eyes were wide open. She looked almost curios. “I’m Narcissa. And this is Stiles.” She added, motioning towards Stiles with her head.

The fae smiled at him politely. “I’m Cordelia. Stiles, why don’t you sit next to her and hold her hands? It should help.” She explained, and the boy narrowed his eyes at the should. He did as she said, though, and Narcissa flashed him a grateful smile.

She groaned in pain then, and Cordelia fixed Stiles with a look. He had been fixed with that particular look more times than he cared to admit. Distract her.

“Ehi, ehi, Cissy, I’m here. I’m here, okay? Stiles is here, Stiles makes everything better isn’t it?” he asked, faking cheerfulness. Cordelia looked at him with a deadpan expression and he ignored her. “Once we are out of here with your kid, you can finally teach me those spells you were talking about right?”

Narcissa managed a smile that looked painfully like a grimace, but Stiles didn’t let it bother him. Talking was his master. He could do talking. “Aurora was telling me through her half Spanish half English right before you know? Apparently you are a great potion master. Well, you kinda are, whatever you gave me when I caught that cold? Magic. I feel like I haven’t caught a cold ever since, it was that good. Although that’s probably it, isn’t it? You’re a witch, it’s a potion, of course there was magic involved. Yeah, I know, I’m an idiot. Lydia, my friend Lydia, always said so as well. You know what, once your baby is old enough, you should join me. Can you imagine how cool it would be? Me, my kids, Sky, you and Cissy JR. Us against the world. Then maybe I could take you back to Beacon Hills, when I’m ready to return. Or we can just keep travelling for the rest of our lives. If I took you to Beacon Hills, my dad would love you. And so would Allison, if she’s actually… anyway, I bet that Isaac would love you as well. You are the kind of mom friend. Well, you’re about to actually become a mother, that’s great, isn’t it! And I’ll be crazy and cool Uncle Stiles, and your kid will have amazing cousins just a little older than him, isn’t that great?” Cordelia was looking at him in surprise, but Stiles barely stopped to breathe.

Narcissa was breathing hard too, sweat appearing on her forehead and her tights. Because she wasn’t wearing pants anymore. The brunette focused back on her face out of respect. “You’d love the pack as well. I am ready to be you would kick Derek’s ass wouldn’t you? You’d totally do it for me. Because I will always be your favourite, understandably. And your kid’s godfather. I will use magic to make it happen, if worse came to worse. Although I can’t really do magic like Faeries and Witches can isn’t it? That’s going to suck balls, I had plans.”

Narcissa let out a small noise of pain, her hands shaking a little while she held tighter onto Stiles. The spark glared at Cordelia, like it was her fault, but the girl just stared at Narcissa with wide eyes, muttering under her breath.

“Cissy, Cissy.” Called Stiles, his heart breaking a little when she just took another breath and somehow calmed herself down.

Cordelia nodded at Narcissa. “You can start pushing now.” She told her, placing the wet towel under her body. “Spark.”

Stiles turned to look at her and she just motioned to Narcissa’s hair and mouthed something along the lines of ‘soothe her’.

It was painful to watch. Stiles might have almost teared up or fainted at a couple of points, but one look for Cordelia was enough to sober him up. Narcissa had her teeth clenched as she pushed, a determined look on her face. Which was what Stiles was concentrating on. If he concentrated on something else, like the blood, then he wouldn’t make it. Honestly, these two girls alone totally took away his masculinity.

“Come on, you’re close, just another push, you got it…” prompted the fae, and Stiles resisted the urge to snap that she was already doing her best, pushing the hair out of Narcissa’s face instead.

The witch shut her eyes and clenched her fists, groaning a little, and then the room was filled with a baby crying. The fae’s face gave nothing away as she nodded at Narcissa with a “Good job,” and handed her the child.

Narcissa’s face was the emblem of happiness and this time Stiles didn’t try and prevent the tears from rolling down his cheeks. “That was exhausting.” He said.

Narcissa’s face was tired, but she still snorted at him. “You didn’t even do anything!”

Stiles narrowed his eyes at her and subtly wiped away the tears. “I just gave birth along with you, man. So, anyway, is it…?”

“It’s a girl.” She said, and the spark lit up in happiness as he looked at the little bundle in her arms. Cordelia ignored them, making a little magic to bless the child or something. Narcissa rolled her eyes. “I present to you little Leia.” She said proudly and Stiles grinned at the baby girl.

“She’s a perfect little potato.” He announced, earning a weak shove from the older witch. Cordelia looked at him coldly.

“Spark, will you do us a favour and wait outside? I need to do a few rituals and a have a private word with the neo mother.” She stared at him expectantly and Stiles nodded, laying a kiss on Narcissa’s cheek and waving at the potat- baby in her arms, before walking out of the room.

Once outside, he took a deep calming breath and hoped he didn’t smell as foul as he felt. The entire village was empty and it hurt a little not hearing little kids playing around, the older witches conversing in Spanish and everyone just making noise and being generally happy.

When he opened the door of the cabin, he found the two little girls drawing on the smaller notebooks that Narcissa had found for them and talking with each other about something. Their faces lit up when they saw him, calling “TATA,” as they rushed towards him and locked him in a bear hug.

He listened for a few seconds to Bianca as she talked a mile a minute, while Anya contented herself with scent marking him and finishing off her drawings. He smiled at their tiny group, thinking about how he could hardly wait for him and Narcissa going out together and talking about their children and taking pictures of them and being unnecessarily domestic best friends.

And of course, that’s when his senses went wild.


The thing about familiar to spark connection was that it became almost like another part of the body. For example, when you get braces. At the beginning, they hurt like hell, and you can’t help but think that it will never get easier. And then, without noticing, you get used to it, the pain eases, and they become basically another part pf your teeth. Until the braces were tightened again and the pain became once more excruciating.

That’s how Stiles felt about his connection to Skyler. Normally, since he didn’t really use it, he didn’t even feel the connection. Other times, like when he was training, it would pull at him and momentarily make him capable of seeing things through the wolf’s eyes (or whatever animal Skyler was at the moment).

Right now, all Stiles could see was a group of hunters. Skyler was perched strategically on top of a tree, her blue eyes tracking the group of armed men and women as they climbed the hills and proceeded up, towards the village where they were hiding.

Stiles was on his feet instantly, holding the two kids behind him. He could see the hunters, all of them heavily armed and annoyed as they walked. They weren’t here to talk or anything. They were here to murder.

Skyler, he thought, loudly. They were a two-way relationship between wolf and a human. Sometimes the wolf took control, sometimes the human did, and right now Stiles needed to take the reins. The wolf seamlessly disappeared in the shadows, but Stiles could feel, even as he pushed it in the back of his head, the familiar changing form and animal in which it presented itself.

The boy turned to the two children, who didn’t seem to have noticed anything weird happening. Anya was still drawing, and Bianca was still talking. Neither of them noticed the mountain ash circle that Stiles carefully spread around the room, or the couple of incantation and runes he drew to keep out the hunters or any other uninvited supernatural creature.

“Girls, I’ve gotta go and see how Cissy is doing. Don’t leave just yet, I’ll be right back.” He pronounced, hating himself a little at the way his uncertainty showed and happy that the other werewolves had yet to teach the two babies how to spot out a lie.

Anya sighed and nodded, while Bianca pouted. “But you just got here! Can we come with you?”

He gave them an apologetic kiss on the forehead. “I’m so sorry, sugar plumps. I will be right back, pinky promise.” He called, before walking out of the door.

The moment the door was shut behind him, Stiles was sprinting towards Narcissa’s cabin. He could feel Skyler moving and looking ready to sprint at the back of his mind, but he ignored it and gritted his teeth as he continued his way towards the cabin. He threw the door open, and he had one second of relaxation at the fact that there were no hunters inside before he noticed the look on both women’s face.

Cordelia was looking worse out of the two of them, but Narcissa looked nauseated herself. The baby was safely wrapped in clothes in her arms, and seemingly asleep, while Eureka looked almost as bad as her owner.

“What is going on?!” he asked, immediately reaching out to help the witch and the fae. Cordelia gripped his arm and looked up with a severe edge on her baby face.

“The hunters. They have a gas that usually rends part demons completely harmless, and the more demon they have, the more it kills them. Faeries are part demon, even more than witches are,” She gritted her teeth. “it’s draining our power. I will never make it out of here alive alone; she doesn’t stand a chance.”

Was it normal that his urge to kick the 8 years old fae increased by the minute? Even when she looked half dead? “Can’t you do your magic tricks and like, disappear?” he asked, earning a glare from the girl.

“Of course not, why are you even- god, I really do hate sparks.” She took a deep breath. “They won’t be able to see me, since I’m a fae, but I won’t be able to escape. It will be impossible, and if I stay here, I will lose enough power that it’ll make me visible to them.”

Instead of shouting at her, Stiles took a deep breath. “Listen; right now? We have no time for your whining. You wanna stay alive? Then you better work for it.” He decided, reaching out to help her on her feet.

The fae glared at his hand for a few moments, before she grabbed it and stood up. “Can you create some sort of circle or something? That’d be incredibly helpful right now.”

The brunette nodded immediately. “All my stuff is in my cabin and I already set up something there already. You can definitely go through it and be safe.” He turned to Narcissa, who was staring almost blankly in front of her. “Cissy? We have to go, like now.” He called, hoping his voice didn’t betray how fucking worried he was at the moment.

The witch blinked at him, before her expression hardened and she handed her daughter to him. “Stiles, take Leia. And scent her.” She ordered, refusing anyone else’s hand as she stood up. She was still pale (no shit, she had just given birth) and her skin looked clammed, but she still had the regality and authority in her features that had first drawn him to her.

The spark obeyed, putting his nose on the baby’s neck and almost melting when the little potato tried to grab at him with her eyes closed. Once he was sure she smelled enough like him (he didn’t run with werewolves for months and not have pick up a thing or two) and made to give it back to the witch.

Narcissa didn’t take her back, and nodded towards the door. Sometime later, Stiles would reflect that he should have realised what was going on sooner: a mother not taking back her not-even 1-hour old daughter was a terribly bad sign. “Eureka is inspecting the zone, she heard some of the stuff they’re saying. It’s not good.” She started wobbling towards the door after Cordelia, ignoring Stiles and her daughter trailing behind.

Stiles gritted his teeth and held the baby carefully, afraid of letting her go or hurting her in any way. Narcissa noticed, and smiled kindly, holding back with him. Cordelia was almost already at the cabin, no more than a shadow now. “Whatever happens, Stiles, know that I love you.” She told him, fixing his hold on the baby. And that phrase should have been the second clue.

The brunette looked at her in confusion as she started muttering words under her breath, a small glow enveloping him and Leia. He put a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, hey, Cissy. You are going to get hurt, you don’t need to do anything right now-”

The witch ignored him, kissing her daughter’s forehead. “Tell her that I love her.” She urged, and before he could formulate an answer or voice his confusion, the hunters appeared.

They both froze, staring at the few hunters that had finally appeared in the clearing. He couldn’t even count how many of them were standing there, but he could easily spot Eureka, locked in one of the hunter’s cages.

The hunter at the front, a woman with a strange eye patch on her left eye grinned when she saw them, standing in the middle of the village and with no other cover whatsoever. “Narcissa. Nos encontramos de nuevo.” She spoke, in thick German accent.

Narcissa didn’t smile back. “Elydia. ¿Cómo esta’ tu ojo?” Stiles had spent enough time with Narcissa and the witches to know what she was asking. The words might have been friendly, but the tone wasn’t.

The huntress’ smile - Elydia- didn’t vanish. “Está bien, gracias por tu preocupación. ¿Cómo esta’ Federer?” Stiles noticed the way Narcissa stiffened at the name. whoever Federer was, it was a sore spot for the witch and he clearly wasn’t well.

The witch didn’t answer.

Elydia grinned at her, wolfish. “¡Ya se, tienes un bebe contigo! ¿Y… quien es él?” her eyes pinned him down suddenly, and Stiles matched her gaze evenly. He wasn’t scared of a huntress.

Narcissa clearly was, if the way she moved in front of him wasn’t clear. “Elydia, por favor. Ella es solo una niña. Y el… él es humano. Puede verlo.” She pleaded, her body still shaking because of whatever toxin was in the air.

The huntress shrugged. “No tengo ninguna intención de matar a una niña, Narcissa.” The witch relaxed slightly at the prospect that her child was safe. Stiles heard the but coming miles away. “Pero conozco alguien que va a pagarme mucho para una niña tan pequeña y bonita. Es ella que me mando’ aquí.” She admitted.

Stiles wasn’t really sure what was happening, but he kind of got it. They wanted Leia, and didn’t want to kill him. But what about Narcissa? “Vas a llevar una niña sin madre y padre, y venderla a Roxanne? Como puedes hacer algo tan…”

“Tan cruel?” Elydia shrugged. “No tengo una familia, Narcissa. Porque tu amigo Federer, el bastardo hombre lobo, mato’ mis padres.”

“Tus padres mataron su entera familia! ¡Tus padres mataron su hermana, su humana hermana!” cried out the witch, the sound so surprising that even Stiles flinched. Elydia didn’t.

The huntress seemed bored, like the fact that her parents had killed humans, that they had killed an entire family was old news and not enough for her to stop. “No soy mis padres, y es solo por esto que voy a llevar tu… novio vivo. Tu hija… ya lo sabes, niños con padres supernaturales son un gran mercado, y Roxanne los ama.”

“Por favor… Déjalos ir. Te estoy mendigando.” Now Cissy’s voice was barely a whisper, a sudden plea.

Nothing changed on Elydia’s face and she rose the hand holding the gun. Stiles made a distressed sound, completely obscured from view and understanding half of what was being said. “Hasta lue-”

Many things happened all at once. Werewolves howled, something huge walked over Elydia, cries erupted from the hunters, jets of fire were thrown and people started firing at them. In other words, not fun.

It took Stiles a few moments to get his bearings back. One, Calliope was standing in front of him, yelling something in his face. Two, he could Elydia laying on her side, bleeding slowly to death, but with a delighted grin on her face. Three, there was someone crumpled at his feet, also slowly bleeding to death.


The moment he realised who it was, it was like everything started moving again. The cries of the werewolves and witches erupted again, and he could finally make out what Calliope was screaming in his face. “Take the baby and go, Stiles! Go, now!” shouted the witch, sending jet after jet.

He felt too numb to comply. “But-”

“You are covered, no gun should be able to shoot you, but now go!”

Stiles looked down at Narcissa’s body. She was still smiling at him, and moving her lips, but he couldn’t understand what she was saying. He looked back to Calliope. “Narcissa is…”

Calliope seemed to crack for a second. “Yeah, she’s going to die. But she chose this, Stiles, she sacrificed for you, for you and her daughter! Now don’t let my sister’s sacrifice be in vain!” she pushed him away from her, then she stopped and kissed his cheek. “You are right- we always have a choice.” She stepped back again. “Now GO!”

He started moving, body numb for a few seconds as he walked, too slowly. All he could see was Narcissa and the blood on Narcissa’s body and the wound that kept bleeding, and her words she had told him and holy god, Narcissa was dead, she was dead-

Then Leia squirmed in his arms, and Stiles snapped out of it. Leia. Bianca. Anya. He couldn’t lose another second, he needed to start moving now.

He called his familiar, with the connection, and then he was running, holding Leia securely in his arms, focusing on their breath as he cut through the battle in the house, not looking at the Elders fighting, at the werewolves tearing flesh with their mouths or the hunters shooting at everything that moved. He just ran, until he was throwing himself at the cabin’s door, Skyler sitting between the twins and Cordelia in her fox form.

Anya had tears in her eyes. “Tata, what’s happening?” she asked, grabbing his left side as soon as he crossed the mountain ash circle. Bianca was immediately on his right side, looking anxiously at him. Stiles forced himself to calm down for a second and thanked the lord above that their hearing was not as good as an older werewolf.

“Nothing serious happened.” Lie. “Just some people being silly.” Half-truth? Mostly a lie. “We’re going to be leaving real soon.” He admitted, glancing down at the baby.

Skyler licked his cheek, directing his attention back to the strained fae laying in the circle. She was visibly deteriorating. She was going to die.

He had read about faeries of course. He had read how they were basically the Kardashians of the Supernatural world. Super cool and magnetizing and a little bitchy. They could be really evil or mildly evil, according to his book, and they weren’t trustworthy. They were trickster.

She was going to die.

His mind flashed Narcissa’s face. She was going to die.

Skyler was just waiting for his order, looking at him with a look too serious for an animal, gunshot still ringing outside. Could he really abandon a fae to whatever fate witches and hunters would make her do? Or could he even let her die?

“Skyler.” He said, quietly, words unnecessary between him and his familiar, and the fox was already working, biting down her shoulder.

The effect was immediate, at least in Stiles. He felt the force of energy leaving his body, the flow going from himself to Cordelia through that small bite, and closed his eyes for a second.

When he opened them again, the fae was looking at him in shock, and both children were still talking, unaware of what happened. Stiles turned to the fox, eyes squeezed shut. “Skyler, I know you’re tired, but we need to-”

Before he could even finish the sentence, he felt a breeze on his face. He opened his eyes, unconsciously holding Leia closer so that she did not get cold, and frowned. They weren’t in his cabin anymore. They were in the woods now, in the middle of nowhere.

“Tata, you did magic! Can we play?” asked Bianca immediately, the fright leaving place to pure delight.

He nodded. “Yeah, sure. Skyler, how about you go running with the children?” he asked, voice tight.

In a matter of seconds, the two girls were laughing, and running after the fox in the woods. He knew that Skyler would keep them safe. And he needed to breathe.

He turned to Cordelia, who was staring at him with a peculiar expression on her face, and handed her Leia. “Hold her.” he ordered, almost surprised when she did, in fact, take the girl.

Then he fell on the ground, his entire body shaking as he let the panic attack start full force. The witches, the wolves, the hunters, Narcissa, the blood… everything hit him all at once, as he fought to calm himself down.

He was alone with a new born baby. A literal new born baby in his hands, who might end up dead, and no one to turn into-

He bent over, throwing up on the fresh grass nearby, body shaking. His heart was going erratically fast and everything was still hazy when he felt a hand on his shoulder. It brought a fresh wave of coolness on his body, calming down immediately.

“Stiles.” His gaze snapped up to see a woman and a man standing over him, both smiling brightly and happy.

His voice was barely a whisper when he spoke. “Cissy,”

The woman kneeled next to him, petting his hair with a hand and a soft expression on her face. She didn’t look half dead at all. Her hair was long and loose on her back, framing her large chocolate brown eyes. She looked just as beautiful as Stiles had always though she was.

The man next to her had blue eyes and looked for all aspects like a rich European man. He nodded at Stiles too, his hand firmly on Cissy’s back.

“You’re dead.” It was meant to be a question, but it felt like a statement. It was clear that she was, in fact, dead. Narcissa nodded sadly.

“You knew you were going to die soon.” He added, and she nodded again, glancing at the man next to her.

Stiles was quick at making connections. “He’s Federer, right? Your husband who was killed.” This time they both nodded.

Then Cissy looked at him straight in the eye, looking serious. “I didn’t want to leave my daughter,” god, her voice made it feel like she was so alive and it tore something in Stiles’ chest. “but I knew I was going to die.” Stiles stared as she turned to where Cordelia was silently standing, the sleeping baby asleep. “But you are right, Stiles. We always have a choice. And my choice was leaving my daughter with someone I trust.” She smiled. “And I trust you.”

She squeezed his arms, before her and Federer laid a kiss on top of Leia’s head. “Make her a true Stilinski, Stiles.”

And like that, she was gone. For what seemed like hours, Stiles remained where he was, staring at where they had disappeared, Cordelia not making a sound beside him. He could hear the twins and Skyler in the distance.

He stood up finally, and turned to face Cordelia. Honestly, he was surprised the fae had remained there for that long so he was surprised when she spoke to him. “You have an interesting power, Spark.”

He looked at her sideways, as she handed him back Leia. He wondered if it was normal for her to be still asleep. “Power?”

“You saw the dead. Humans should not be able to do that, not even fire sparks. I haven’t seen someone able to do it since Dante Alighieri in 1321.” She spoke softly, analysing Stiles with her gaze like he was a rare specimen she couldn’t wait to use.

Stiles didn’t say anything. What could he even say to that?

“You trusted me.” Said Cordelia, after a couple of seconds.

Stiles looked up in surprise, completely caught off guard from her words. “Uh?”

She sighed loudly, moving her hands like she was about to cast another spell. “I’m a fae and you trusted me. Nobody trusts faes, and yet you did. More than once. You left me alone with your friend. You gave me some of your energy. You allowed me in a circle with your children. And you gave me your new-born daughter like it didn’t even matter.”

“She’s not my daughter.” He said automatically.

Cordelia looked at him severely. “She is now.” Stiles looked back down at the kid. “And I owe you my life. Allow me to help.”

And yet again, Stiles trusted her.


“This is your plan? What if they don’t want us?” hissed Stiles at the fae next to him, uncomfortable sitting in the pack of wolves.

Cordelia, as per usual, ignored him, focusing on feeding the small Leia and showing him how to do, while werewolves around spoke among themselves. Both Anya and Bianca were passed out on his lap, while Skyler sat between them and the wolf pack, still in her fox form.

The faeries’ plan, had apparently been to teleport them to the nearest wolf pack in the area, which was the Abano Pack. The Alpha, a tall woman who went by the name of Consuela, had immediately greeted Cordelia with open arms, and hugged Stiles with a smile. Then the fae had quietly explained that she had been the one to help give birth to the Alpha’s daughter, the Alpha and the Alpha’s mother.

Stiles was having a hard time thinking of the eight-year-old faerie old being actually even older than the Divine Comedy.

They were now sat in front of the Alpha, looking for access and help from the Pack. Her emissary, thank god, spoke English, while the rest of them seemed content with communicating in an old Peruvian dialect.

The man nodded at Stiles once the Alpha finished her speech. “I am Alberto Diaz, and I welcome you in the Abano Pack. My Alpha has decided to grant you access, and it’s my pleasure to say that the Pack is ecstatic to make your acquaintance.”

Stiles smiled, ducking his head a little. “Thank you.” He whispered, when Cordelia kicked his leg. “Gracias.” He added, for the Pack’s benefit.

The Alpha smiled, then barked a quick order at a boy sitting not too far from her. The boy immediately stood up, glaring at the ground as people around him snorted and chuckled, and stopped next to Stiles. The emissary translated for Stiles’ benefit. “Go with him, he will take you to the nursery where you can put down the girls while we find an acceptable cabin for you and your little family. What are their names?”

Stiles paused for a fraction of seconds. “Bianca Stilinski, Anastasia Stilinski and Leia Stilinski.” He said in the end refusing to make eye contact with Cordelia. But the faerie didn’t comment on it.

They stood too, and followed the young boy to the nursery, where another girl was sitting, breast feeding another baby. She frowned at them as they entered. “Keith? Que pasa?” she called, as the boy grunted and put Anya down on the bed.

Stiles gave her a nod, putting Bianca down next to him, while Cordelia selected the smallest baby bed and put an already asleep Leia on top. Then she turned to speak to the girl, who startled, but then answered enthusiastically with a smile on her face.

Cordelia nodded approvingly, and turned to Stiles. “She’s Paula Alvarez, and he’s Keith Alvarez. They’re brother and sister.” She explained. “Apparently, Alberto Diaz has a son, who speaks English, and should be here in a month or so. Meanwhile, you can have these two non English speakers as your personal guards.”

This caught him by surprise. “You’re leaving?” he asked, looking up at her in confusion.

“Yes. But I’ll be back.” Now it was her turn to look confused, as if those words weren’t meant to come out of her mouth.

Despite the feeling of dread at the pit of his stomach, Stiles smiled. “Oh, Cordelia, you have real feelings! Don’t worry, I’ll never tell anyone.”

She smirked back. “Keep telling yourself that, Spark. I’ll be back to check on Leia, that’s all.” She sniffed, and ignored his mocking sound. And then she hugged him, surprising them both again. “Don’t worry boy. You got this.”





December - Allison's death

End December/beginning January - Stiles leaves Beacon Hills/accident happens



January - sheriff dies/comes back to life

February - Allison and Aiden come back to life/ Stiles and the twins live on the island

March - Stiles and the twins go to the witches

July - birth of Leia / death of Narcissa


Chapter Text

There weren’t in the pack two people as different as Lydia and Derek, but, if there was one thing the two of them shared was their mutual dislike for goodbyes. Derek because all the people he wished he could say goodbye to were gone, Lydia because… she just hated them.

Which was why he couldn’t help but feel a little surprised as he waited for her in the car and she bid her goodbyes to Aiden.

The Alpha werewolf and his twin were getting to skip town along with Danny. At first, it had seemed like Lydia was going to join them and leave with them. In true Lydia fashion, she proved them wrong.

She hadn’t started dating him again. Actually, she had taken her time to explain that, although she was glad he was back alive, she couldn’t date him for a number of reasons, one of which was Boyd’s death. The fact that Boyd, who had done nothing but good, was dead, and Aiden, who had killed and slaughtered families and packs, was given another chance at life.

Aiden had seemed to be expecting it, and hadn’t really seemed to be too upset. Derek was glad that at least he hadn’t given Lydia any trouble for it. He really seemed to have changed, but all Derek could remember when he looked at him was Boyd’s eyes before he fell dead at Derek’s feet.

The wolf looked down at his hands there, and gripped the journal tighter in his hands. Right. Stiles’ journal. He found himself opening the book to the page, the page he had read so many times he knew it by heart now.

Documenting your life. That’s some interesting crap, you know? Normally, you wouldn’t even think about it. Well, some people might think about it. But they are nerds, if they think about it. You know that you can win any argument with ‘Shut up, nerd’?

I digress. As I was saying, just one year ago? I would have never thought about doing something like this. It’s just so weird to imagine that I could possibly be alone like this.

It’s not like I blame Scott. We talk, but he still has the entire thing with his mom about being a werewolf, he can’t hang out. And I know she hasn’t said it but… I know she blames me. She thinks it’s my fault that Scott turns furry once a month. (she is right)

So, I have a lot of time in my hands. And since apparently there is a Pack of Alphas ready to kill us all, I decided to document these frantic months of my life. Hurray, right?

I’ve been spending a lot of time with Derek. With Derek Hale. His middle name is Jasper, and I’m just… the irony of a werewolf’s middle name being the same as the famous vampire Jasper Cullen. I died internally when he told me.

Because yes. Derek told me. He volunteered information. This is step further in the wooing of Derek Jasper Hale: I asked him a question and he answered with no growl or flashy eyes. Even Isaac looked impressed.

Another interesting development of this summer: I am pretty sure I am developing more than lust and more than a crush for Sir Derek Hale. He’s like… he’s pretty, he’s strong, he’s kind, he’s gentle, he’s authorative and he CARES.

And he likes me back, I think. He trusted me over Isaac to investigate about Boyd and Erica. He trusts me to bring my unbiased point of view about their disappearances. And I spoke to Peter.

Who is totally being weird about it. I swear, yesterday he tried to hug me, and when I pepper sprayed wolf bane in his face he whispered something about being happy to have someone like me in the family. Derek didn’t hear him, he just looked like a proud creeper from where he was hiding in the shadows.

Still, Peter knows something. And what I know, is that my desperate infatuation may not be one sided. I really hope I’m right, and wow, I completely digressed from the original topic.

Derek is hot and writing is boring and time consuming. That’s all I’m saying.

The sound of Lydia opening the passenger door snapped him out of his thoughts, and he immediately put down the journal, trying hard not to look guilty. Not like he was doing anything wrong, but… Allison had given it to him. He didn’t want to share it with anybody else, let alone Stiles’ first crush.

The red head barely looked at him, putting on the seat belt. “Okay, let’s go.”

The wolf rolled his eyes at her order, but put hid the book in his jacket again, starting the car. “Where are we going?” asked the red head, once it became clear the wolf was not going to say anything.

Derek just shrugged. “I thought you might want to stay with Allison. I know how much she hates being alone on the full moon.” The wolf didn’t say anything about how much Lydia hated being alone on the full moon.

She nodded, her eyes giving nothing away. “Of course.” She turned to look at him frowning for a moment. “Are you okay?” she asked carefully.

Derek gave her a look out of the corner of his eyes, frowning too. Has she noticed him reading Stiles’ journal? “I’m perfectly fine, why?”

The banshee seemed to be aiming for nonchalant when she spoke next. “Your aura changed. You seem… different today.”

Her words surprised him, but he didn’t let it show. Instead he arched an eyebrow at her. “I thought you weren’t psychic.”

This time the girl laughed. “I’m a banshee. And if you’re really okay why are your claws out?” she asked lightly, but her face was suddenly wary.

The werewolf looked down at the claws poking from his fingers in bewilderment. “What the…?” he startled, forcing the claws back in. He looked at Lydia in confusion. “I don’t… I didn’t…?! His claws poked out again, and he swore, swerving and stopping the car.

Lydia looked after him with wide eyes as he jumped out of the car, his eyes glowing blue and almost entirely beta shifted. But his eyes didn’t look crazy. Just very very confused. “What the…?”

“Derek what is going on?” she asked, keeping herself far enough from him in case something suddenly happened.

Derek shook his head. “I don’t know, I can’t control it! No, Lydia, stay away,” he ordered, when she looked like she wanted to might move towards him. “I don’t know what’s happening, and I just want to howl, and shift…”

Stiles’ face flashed in her mind, and she found herself talking without thinking. “Then… then howl , Derek. Howl!”

And Derek did. He threw his head back, eyes flashing and let out a long howl that had her bones shaking and her teeth clattering. It was loud and full, a calling, a signal, a command.

The sound faded, and two distinct howls sounded in the background that had Lydia almost shaking at their intensity. Had wolves always howled like that? But any thought about wolves and their howls died in her mouth when Derek finally faced her, his eyes glowing but no longer shifting.

The werewolf looked uncomfortable. “What? You told me to howl.”

She shook her head, staring at him amazed. “Derek… your eyes.” She whispered.

Derek frowned, touching his face self consciously. “What about my eyes?”

Lydia stared at them. “They’re glowing. Derek, your eyes are glowing Alpha red.”




When Scott, Allison and Isaac crashed in the clearing, Lydia and Derek had at least stopped freaking out, and had stopped flashing his eyes.

The blond beta stopped a few meters away from him with a frown on his face. “Why were you howling?” he asked, before stumbling to a halt when Derek flashed him red eyes. “Uhm...”

Scott flashed them right back at him. “Derek? What did you do?” he asked, probably looking around for Aiden and Ethan’s remains.

Lydia glared at him, offended. “He didn’t do anything, I was with him almost the entire night. His eyes were blue a moment and then they were suddenly red.”

Isaac looked at him confused, eyes glowing golden for a few moments. “So what, are you an Alpha again?” he asked.

Derek shrugged. “I feel like I felt when I was an Alpha, but I don’t know… we need to speak to Deaton about this.”

Allison nodded carefully, while Scott just shrugged, coming closer to them. “About Deaton,” started the True Alpha “I’ve got a good and a neutral news. And I have some bad news that has nothing to do with Deaton.”

The banshee nodded at him to continue and he sighed. “He just called me, he said he’s back in town, and that we can come tomorrow morning to see him.” He shot a look at Derek. “And he also told me, that your crazy uncle is currently on his way back to Beacon Hills too.”

Derek grimaced at the mention of his uncle, before nodding hastily. “And what’s the other bad news?”

Isaac licked his lips nervously. “When you howled, two wolves howled back.” He looked around him at Scott. “It wasn’t either of us.”

Now all werewolves were on attention, and so were Allison and Lydia, crossbow and knife raised and poised.

When Derek spoke, he was scanning his surroundings without moving. “Are we sure it wasn’t the twins? Or Malia and Kira?”

Scott gave him a bitch-face, but it was Allison who answered. “We texted them and they denied, they were already in a car headed to the city. And neither Malia nor Kira can howl like a werewolf.” She explained.

Lydia glared at the ground, annoyed. “Then who was it?” she asked the werewolves, but none of the three had an answer.

“It was me.” Came a voice. They all turned rapidly towards the source of the sound, two beta shifted werewolves, Derek flashing his eyes and Allison and Lydia pointing their arms. Until the person walked forwards, and the light shone in his face, revealing him for who it was.

For a moment no one moved. Derek stood frozen, staring at the werewolf with wide eyes, while Allison and Scott took a step back in shock. Isaac was just staring, like he couldn’t really believe what he was seeing. And Lydia… she wasn’t even surprised. She had felt that this was coming.

The werewolf didn’t let their reaction faze him, a huge grin plastered on his face as he marched over, colliding with Derek in a huge hug. The Alpha’s shock subsided, leaving place for guilt and hope, as he held his beta in his arms. “Derek.” Sighed the werewolf, allowing his Alpha to scent him.

“Boyd.” Derek’s voice came half chocked, but who could really fault him? For having Boyd back?

It was with reluctance that he let the other werewolf out of his arms, and immediately Isaac tackled him on the ground. To anyone else it might have looked aggressive and angry, but the pack knew Isaac. And they could see the tears in his eyes, tears that matched Boyd’s own as he held onto his fellow beta, his brother.

Scott frowned. “Hold on a second. It was two howls! Does that mean-”

The second werewolf did not announce its presence as it walked slowly towards them. Where once she was cocky, she seemed back on being the nervous girl she had been all her life. Her hair was not in the usual ponytail, but there wasn’t a trace of make up on her. Just a very sad expression as she flashed her golden eyes at Derek.

“Alpha.” She pleaded. One word. A plea. A question. Regret, pain and loneliness. A beg for forgiveness. Because Boyd had time to forgive Derek for the life they had been plunged in and ask Derek for forgiveness, since he ran away. She hadn’t.

Not that Derek needed her to. He flashed his eyes at her, and then hid his face in her shoulder, tears rolling down his eyes as he took a sniff of her scent. God, he had missed her so much. “Erica.” He whispered, this time a full sob as he held on to his only female beta.

Then Boyd and Isaac joined the hug too, and Derek wasn’t even ashamed to say he was properly crying now. His first pack as an Alpha, all together again.

It was Boyd who let go momentarily to look at Allison, Lydia and Scott with a dazzling smile. “Come on, you saved my life at that motel California. We’re all a pack.” He decided, and three more bodies were in the group, as they all held on to each other, crying and smiling, sad and happy and everything Pack.

If only Stiles had been there too.




That night, they all slept at Derek’s loft, and the next morning the Camaro was stopping in front of the animal clinic, with all his three betas sitting in it. It was almost surreal, especially when Lydia’s car stopped next to his and Allison hopped out, alive.

“They’re not going to disappear.” Derek looked back at Scott, who was standing behind him, hands in his pocket. The True Alpha smiled at him with tight lips. “I’m always scared one day I’ll wake up and Allison will be gone again. It’s terrifying.”

It was strange, this comradeship with Scott. The comradeship with everyone, really. He drove around with Lydia, and they talked to each other, as friends. He was able to just walk inside his house and see Allison, an Argent, sitting in a corner with one of his books and not startle. He could hold a conversation with Scott without threats being moved around.

Wherever he was, Stiles was the cause of this. Stiles had left, but he had given Derek something he hadn’t had in years: a real Pack.

He smiled at Scott. “She won’t. None of them will.”

The young Alpha looked at him funny, before smiling again, and heading towards the door. “Come on, Alpha Hale.”

Derek rolled his eyes as he followed him inside the already open door. He could hear Deaton quietly working in the back and immediately tensed again as they stepped inside the small workroom.

The man looked up with a smile at them. “Hey, Scott, Isaac,” he seemed momentarily surprised as he took everyone in the room. He put down his equipment, fully turning to face them. “Ms Argent, Ms Reyes, Ms Martin and Mr Boyd. And Derek.” His smile return. “To what do I owe the visit?”

Scott gave Derek a look, almost like he was asking for permission. Almost as if he wasn’t an Alpha. Derek nodded, noticing the funny look Deaton was throwing their way. “Well… we were hoping you’d explain what’s happening here.” Deaton invited him to continue with a nod. “Uhm, I think it all started when Stiles left Beacon Hills.

Basically, there was a plane crash, on the plane Stiles was on,” he grimaced, then pulled himself together again. “Everybody on the plane apparently died. Someone told the Sheriff, and he had a heart attack at his own wedding. He died. Lydia even screamed.” The redhead nodded at the vet. “But… he came back. He came back to life not even ten minutes later. And when he came back he said that Stiles was still alive probably, he explained how he was in a weird hospital thing and he saw two twin girls or something. And then Allison came back, and Ethan, and few months later Boyd and Erica came back to life.”

Deaton nodded, like it made perfectly sense. Derek stepped forward. “And that’s not only it. I somehow got my Alpha powers back.”

The vet smiled indulgently at that. “Well, that’s easy to explain. Your two betas came back to life, of course you would go back to being an Alpha.” He stepped forward. “Ms Argent, Ms Reyes, Mr Boyd. Please sit here.” He demanded, pulling out three chairs for them.

The three sat down nervously, and everyone collectively held their breaths as the man started checking them up on… whatever.

Five minutes later, Deaton was standing again, a smile on his face. “Good news: your friends are completely fine and okay.” He started, and everyone drew a sigh. Lydia and Scott moved to hug Allison, while Isaac held on to Boyd and Erica.

Deaton smiled, as he continued. “Second, it’s obviously Stiles’ doing.” Everyone quietened again. “At first, I didn’t know where his talents laid. I knew that he was a spark, but that’s about it.

Do you know that the maximum energy/power that a spark holds comes from their activation energy? Activation energy is the colloquial term for fulgenti . It’s Latin, and it basically means sparkling, brightness. Activation energy is when the spark firstly burns its spark power.

Normally, no one can control their activation energy, its completely ruled by emotions.

Another thing is that theoretically, raising the dead needs so much energy that it could kill the spark who tries it. Which is why no one has ever succeeded.

But if someone is powerful enough, they could risk their life and use the activation energy to raise the dead.”

Lydia frowned. “So what you’re saying is that Stiles risked his life to raise the dead? How… how did he even know his dad died?”

“I’ll get onto that.” He smiled, laying down seven peanuts on the table. “I don’t think Stiles knew what he was doing when he raised the dead. I think the incident happened, and he must have wished pretty hard for the life of the twins. Do you know that twins, up until they’re about 6, are considered two halves of the same soul?” Nobody answered. “Also, 7 is a magic number. When the sheriff died, Stiles’ spark powers called for the closest people to him, for his dead friends, and called for the debts, for all the things they left behind.” He put down two halves of the same peanut on the table. “The twins, they were with him, and they are young: the easiest to call back. Then the Sheriff died.” He pulled another peanut. “Family. Stiles values family and the Sheriff is the only one he has left. His spark pulled to him. Then, of course, Allison and Aiden.” He pulled two peanuts. “Stiles always felt guilty about their deaths, and about Boyd and Erica.” He added the last two peanuts. He smiled down at the last peanut on the table. “There is still a person who Stiles pulled to: one more person who’ll turn back to life.”

“Amazing explanation, doc!” called a chirpy voice, pulling them all out of their reverie as someone else stepped inside the animal clinic. Derek glared at the door.

The neo Alpha growled, as he moved to the front, Boyd and Isaac flanking him, and flashing red eyes at his uncle. Peter, the jerk, laughed.

“What, I’m gone for a few months and I come back to a bunch of people who were dead back to life?” he rolled his eyes. “Gotta say, it’s lame of you to copy me like this. I did it first.”




Sheriff Stilinski had to regrets in life; the first one was not having been there when Claudia died and leaving Stiles alone to watch his mother die. The second was what he had shouted at his son the day Stiles left Beacon Hills.

“Sheriff? Sheriff!” called him a voice, and for a moment, when he looked at him, he thought it was Stiles. Then he looked better at Scott’s face, and forced himself to smile at his new stepson.

The young boy was frowning at him. “You blanked out again, I was askin-” he stopped abruptly, tilting his head in the way werewolves did when they were listening in for something. “It’s Derek.” He said in the end, standing up from the table and rushing to the door, just as the older Alpha knocked at the door.

The Sheriff recomposed himself, trying not to look anything but professional. Despite all the things that usually brought the two of them close together in crime scenes, he and Derek did not have a close relationship.

Derek appeared at the kitchen doorway with a tight smile, trademark leather jacket in place and a bottle of cider in his hands. Scott gazed at it reproachfully, before taking it out of his hands, leaving the Sheriff staring at it mornfully.

Derek huffed an amused snort, before turning serious again. “Sheriff Stilinski. I came to speak to you.” He gave Scott an unimpressed look. “In private.”

Scott made a face at him, before promptly walking out of the kitchen, leaving the Sheriff alone with Derek.

He observed the man in front of his as he fumbled to find a way to start the conversation. He looked way better than the first time the Sheriff had seen him, but in other way, he looked worse. He had bags under his eyes, as if sleeping had been a problem in the past… months.

“Sheriff.” He snapped his attention back on Derek, nodding at him to continue. “Uh, as you may not know, Stiles owned a journal. I brought it with me, here.” He said, putting the journal on the table.

The older man made to grab it and read it, but then stopped. “Are its contents family friendly?” he asked, almost enjoying the way Derek turned red.

The werewolf shook his head. “No, they really aren’t. Stiles has a very vivid imagination and a talent for graphics.” He looked up at the Sheriff. “But something he wrote about me, got under my skin.

I don’t know how but Stiles found out about my degree and the fact that I’ve been doing virtually nothing with it. He wrote a list of reasons as to why I should… become a deputy.” Finally explained Derek, shifting self-consciously in his chair.

The sheriff arched an eyebrow, surprised and intrigued. “Continue.”

“It involves me being a supernatural who can detect if a murder is sketchy without having to keep appearing on murder scenes, someone who can protect his father and my wiliness to help do the right thing.” Derek made eye contact with the older man. “And he is right.”

The Sheriff sat straighter. “I mean, it’s a great idea but… being a deputy is a pretty tough job. You don’t have to do it just because Stiles thinks it’s a good idea.” He told him, seriously, ignoring the way his heart stung just a little more every time he mentioned his son.

Derek nodded seriously. “I’m aware but… thing is, before Peter, before Laura… that’s what I was trying to study for. That’s where I was headed in career path; I wanted to become a cop. Then the Pack happened, and the Alpha Pack, and Beacon Hills became a pure Hell hole… it kind of slipped my mind. But now, I have a real pack. They are still teenagers, but, it’s real. It’s for real this time, thanks to Stiles. And I’m not going to let us all live on my dead family’s insurance. I’m going to provide for them. All I’m asking is…”

“For my permission?” suggested the Sheriff. Derek nodded stiffly, jaw clenched as he stared the man down. The Sheriff tried hard to suppress his smile, holding him on edge for a little longer. He stood up, and Derek quickly imitated him, swallowing hard. The Sheriff finally allowed himself a small smirk. “Well… I guess, welcome to your future in Law Enforcement, son.”

The smile that graced Derek’s face at that was big enough that the older didn’t try to stop himself from clapping him from the back. He wondered how long had it been since someone had called Derek son in a good way.

The werewolf tried not to preen too much at the hug that the Sheriff had offered so simply. It felt a lot like being accepted in the family according to his wolf; Derek was not going to dwell too much on that.

He said goodbye to the man after he recived a job application form, and left the McCall household. He found Scott sitting on the hood of his Camaro holding two crosses in his hands with a smug and yet nervous look on his face.

Derek glared at him, unimpressed, and Scott broke in a larger grin. Damn it, if Scott answered his glares with smiles he must be doing something really wrong.

The younger Alpha threw one of the crosses at him, smile still in place. “Up for a game, Hale?” he asked, as Derek effortlessly caught it in his hands.

Scott threw the lacrosse ball at him, before starting to talk. “So… I’ve been watching you.” He started, making Derek roll his eyes at him. Scott really wasn’t subtle, the older werewolf had noticed clearly the sniffs and looks the younger Alpha threw his way.

Scott ignored him. “I’ve been watching you, and I have to say… you really improved from the way you were before. You are actually a pretty good Alpha. The way you look out for the entire population of Beacon Hills, not only your pack and the way you act around me, Lydia and Allison… I noticed it. And it’s really impressive.

I also spoke to Deaton. According to him two Alphas can totally coexist in the same territory and everything, but one of them usually is above the other.” Scott smiled at the way Derek was staring at him, and threw him another ball, that he effortlessly caught. “And I’m proud to be able to say that you are the werewolf that I’m looking up to. Thank you for all you did to us.”

Derek swallowed, throwing the ball back to Scott. “You were a pretty good Alpha. And the Pack… they taught me everything I know. You taught me how to be a good Alpha, somehow.

The younger werewolf rolled his eyes. “Accept a compliment, Derek, cause from me to you? They are rare.”

Derek snorted, before giving him a genuine smile. “Thank you.”

Scott beamed, nodding to himself. “Deaton said a few more things to me that made me think. I know you and Lydia blame yourselves for Stiles leaving Beacon Hills, but I’m equally to blame. I am a teenager; I’m not suited to make decisions as an Alpha. Him leaving only showed that. I was so overwhelmed with the entire True Alpha thing that I completely forgot about Stiles. I forgot my best friend. If that doesn’t show that I’m too young to be an Alpha, I don’t know what does.

Which is why, together with Dr Deaton, I changed the entire thing. I am no longer an Alpha, I’m back to being a beta, and I harnessed my powers in the Nematon, succeeding in cleansing it once and for all.” He smiled, and flashed golden eyes to Derek. “And I know recognise you, Derek Hale, as my Alpha.”

Derek stared at Scott in awe, catching the ball he threw him. He looked at Scott, and remembered the snotty kid he was in sophomore year when he first met him. He remembered all the way in which Scott rejected him, all the problems he had caused Derek and his pack.

And he remembered Scott, with his golden heart, always doing the right thing, no matter what Stiles or he told him. Scott had always been almost like everyone’s moral compass. The perfect leader.

But Scott was also a teenager, and he was bound to make mistakes. And the fact that he trusted Derek to make sure his mistakes were rectified…

The Alpha smiled, nodding at him once. “And I accept you as part of my Pack.”

Scott looked relieved at this, and he dropped his crosse, wrapping his arms around his Alpha, much to Derek’s complete surprise. But he still hugged him back.

Scott smiled. “Just so we’re clear, I come with Allison and Lydia. They were in my pack first, and we’re a package deal.”

Derek smirked at him. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”




“This is not what I expected Senior Year to be like. Is this what you expected Senior Year to be like? If I had known I would not have let Lydia annoy me into taking Summer school and pass Junior Year all at once.” Grumbled Erica, glaring at the students in the lunch hall that dared to turn their heads in her direction.

It had been just a little over a week since they started their last year in Beacon Hills High, and still people stopped in their tracks to look at their table. It was just so tiresome.

Like, what was so weird about the ex queen bee of the school, Lydia Martin, the ex social outcast, Vernon Boyd, the neo Lacrosse star Scott McCall, the official New Girl of Beacon Hills, Allison Argent, the ex epilepsy girl and now sexy bombshell, Erica Reyes and the confident womanizer Isaac Lahey, hanging out together?

Lydia rolled her eyes at the blonde girl with a smirk. “Oh, come on. You are totally loving the attention.” She teased, as they joined Allison, Scott and Boyd at the lunch table.

Erica snorted. “I used to, and then I caught Harris giving me a once over. It was awful.”

Boyd looked up, half amused but ready to break the man’s neck at her command. Allison patted her on the shoulder. “That’s disgusting, but at least you’ll be sure of passing his class. I feel like now that his favourite chew toy is no longer in the school he feels like everyone in his ex-group should pay for it.”

Scott pouted. “I know right? Like, he’s totally going Snape on us.” He commented, before stealing half of Allison’s fruit pot.

“Who’s that?” said Lydia, suddenly staring at a blank point in the middle of the canteen with a transfixed look on her face.

The rest of the Pack turned to look at the point she was staring at, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. Allison turned to her best friend in concern. “Where?” she asked, frowning when Lydia pointed at the same empty spot.

The redhead seemed to finally catch on their perplexity, surprised. “You can’t see her?” she asked, and they nodded, apologetic.

Boyd glanced between Lydia’s freaked out expression and then flashed his eyes in the direction where the banshee was pointing. He arched his eyebrows in surprise. “I see her.” he commented, looking.

Erica and Scott caught on, flashing their beta eyes at the spot, while Allison made impatient noises next to them. And then they saw her too.

It was three girls really, but one of them stood out the most. While the other two were brunettes and dressed in almost normal clothes, the middle one had long blonde hair and green eyes like the sea. She looked around their age, but she was dressed like she was from a completely different century, with her aquamarina silk Victorian dress and light blue flower crown.

“What the fuck?” muttered Allison, when she Lydia grabbed her hand and allowed her to see the trio. Who was staring right back at them.

The trio started towards their table, the other two trailing behind the fair one like bodyguards as she stopped in front of their table with a look of absolute contempt.

“So this is the famous Hale Pack, I take?” she asked, her accent taking them all by surprise. It wasn’t foreign, exactly, but it didn’t feel right. From up close they could see how big her eyes were and appreciate the elf ears on both the other two girls.

Erica was the first one to come back from the stupor. “What, we’re famous? For what?” she asked immediately.

The girl shrugged. “Kanimas? True Alphas? Defeating an Alpha Pack and a Darach? A human who survived a Nogitsune? These are not everyday things.” She flashed them a smile. “I see none of you is the Alpha Derek Hale. I’ll be dropping by later at your… den. I’ll pay my respects to your Alpha only then, so you can go ahead and warn him. I have some business to attend now. Gabriella, Irma, abeamus.” She ordered the other two, ready to walk away.

“Wait!” called Allison, stopping them. “Who are you? What are you?”

The girl smiled, perfect pearly teeth flashing at her. “Just tell him Ofelia’s daughter came to say hi.” She said, and then disappeared in the air.

The pack blinked at the empty space before them for a few seconds, before turning to look at each other, Erica already tapping on Derek’s number.

“Please tell me rgar I’m not the only one who has no idea of what is going on right now.” Pleaded Scott, glancing at the other four. “Also, where is Isaac?”

Lydia was having a heated conversation made of glances with Boyd, but stopped to answer him. “He’s currently in San Fran, finishing the legal stuff regarding his heredity from both mother, father and brother.” Scott flinched. Sometimes it was hard remembering that Isaac had lost everything he once had.

“But about that girl,” started Boyd glancing at Lydia again. “I know for a fact that banshees are related to many supernatural creatures, like elves, sirens, merpeople…”

Scott’s eyes were wide open. “Sirens are real?”

Allison narrowed her eyes. “Merpeople and elves?”  she asked sceptical.

Lydia nodded in agreement. “Yes. They are all part of a bigger group: they’re called the Fair Folk. And the royalty of the Fair Folk are the faeries.”

Erica shook her phone in front of their faces. “Derek just answered, he says that we need to be at the loft as soon as possible and that Lydia and Boyd are right. Faeries!”

Allison still looked unsure, but she knew that Boyd and Lydia together were as smart as Stiles was. She opened her mouth to say so, when she noticed the head teacher walking towards their direction, looking worried and pale.

Erica quickly hid away her phone, but he didn’t seem to notice her at all. “Ah. Lydia, Vernon, Scott, Erica and Allison! Stiles’ best friends.” His smile was strained. “Are you still friends with Stiles, right?”

Scott made to answer, but Lydia beat him to it. “Yes. How can we help, sir?” she asked, all sweet smiles and evil intentions.

The man looked around himself nervously. “Stiles would have told me, I guess, but do you think he’s looking for any college at the moment? I mean, he never picked out his diploma, and now… he never will.”

Lydia went right past her shock at Stiles having graduated so early, and plastered a smile on her face. “I don’t think he’ll need it, but what happened, sir?”

The man looked at her with a nervous look. “Well, his diploma kind of went missing. We could have misplaced it, obviously, but… we think someone stole it. The footage from the camera was missing.”




“You think the fae knows Stiles?” asked Allison, still confused as they climbed the stairs of the loft, the werewolves hot on their tails.

Lydia nodded, an impatient look on her face. “I mean, we can’t be sure until we ask her, but… She knew who we were, and she appeared and then a few moments later Stiles’diploma goes missing. These can’t be coincidences, right?”

Boyd nodded, as they finally got to the loft’s front door. “I agree with Lydia; coincidences don’t just happen to us.” He concluded, as they stepped inside. And then promptly stopped.

The fae was standing there, this time alone, looking as regal as ever with a cup of hot tea in her hands. She raised a hand in a salute when they walked in, a smug half smile on her lips as she took in each member of the pack.

Derek was standing not too far from her, not wolfed out and looking relatively calm, although every inch of his body language seemed to be screaming caution and danger. He didn’t turn his head towards his pack, just keeping his gaze fixed on the young girl in front of him.

Scott was surprisingly the first to step forward, looking at the girl in distrust. “Derek? What is going on?” he asked, stopping at his left, while Boyd stepped at his right.

The fae just smirked when Derek stepped a little forward, effectively keeping his entire pack behind him before answering. “This is… a fae. She says she is here for some business she needs to take care of, and she just stopped by to present at the Alpha of the territory.”

The fae snorted finally standing up and putting the cup back on the table with a soft cling. “My name is Cordelia, and I’m a member of the Court. One of Ofelia’s daughters. Nice to meet you again, Hale Pack.” She chirped, the unfamiliar accent there again as she flashed white eyes and nodded towards them.

Derek narrowed his eyes at her. “You are not a North American Fae, then. What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice a barely concealed growl.

She grinned, sharp white teeth and produced a tray of cookies from her small bag, like a magician. “Anyone wants something to eat?” she asked sweetly, holding the tray forward for them to take.

Derek tensed. “My mother taught me to never eat anything a fae offers you.” He pronounced carefully, face completely blank.

Cordelia rolled her eyes. “That’s pretty rude, but I won’t comment on it.” She took a bite out of the cookie she was holding. “You are right: I’m not a North American Fae. I’m a member of the Court, and although I have jurisdiction everywhere, I’m not actually meant to go anywhere. But I have my reasons to be here.” She tilted her head to the side. “Unfinished business for a… acquaintance of mine.”

“So you admit you know Stiles?” Lydia’s voice came to a surprise as the girl stepped forward and stopped next to Derek, ignoring the Alpha’s growl. Her eyes were only focused on the fae, who was watching her with a calculating light in her eyes.

“That’s a big conclusion to make from the few words I said today,” said Cordelia. Lydia’s eyes didn’t waver from her face, narrowing slightly. Cordelia smiled again. “My business here is almost completed. And since I’d hate to leave you guys hanging… yes, I know monsieur Stiles Stilinski. Pretty weird guy, if you ask me. Nothing like any of you.” She concluded, looking at the Pack with a frown now, almost like she was disappointed by them.

Nobody said a word as she stepped towards the window, batting her eyes at them. “I’ll be leaving tomorrow. I’ll come and pay my respects then only. And since I recently found out that Stiles’ birthday is in less than a month, if I were you, I’d choose my next move very carefully.” She said. Then she curtsied, and with that, she was gone.




It took them a couple of hours to finally decide that the fae didn’t mean any actual long lasting harm, and a while longer to decipher what her lasting words actually meant.

In the end, like always, it was Boyd and Lydia who explained and Boyd himself who decided that he knew the perfect present that they could get Stiles for his birthday.

Everyone had been a little unsure about this, seen that Boyd and Stiles had never actually been best buddies, but when Boyd finally showed up the next day with the perfectly assembled gift and similar other packages in his hands, Derek’s breath caught in his throat, because… it was beautiful.

It was a bracelet, made of fake silver, a simple chain, really, with a bunch of small ornaments on it. With eight particular ornaments on it: eight, like the members of pack; or what was the Pack according to Boyd. There was plenty of space for more penchants.

There was a small triskele, representing Derek and the Hale Pack; a scarf, representing Isaac; a Catwoman’s symbol for Erica; a chef hat for Boyd himself; a flower that Derek was almost certain was wolf bane for Lydia; for Allison, was a bow with one single arrow; and for Scott, the tattoo he took in junior year with Stiles and Derek. And then there was a lone bat, with a small triskele embedded on it: Stiles’ symbol.

It was very simple and at the same time, it was perfect, especially since Boyd had apparently worried himself with making one for each and every current member of the Hale Pack. The stoic werewolf shrugged at the clear emotion on everybody’s faces when he presented the precious jewellery.

“There wasn’t enough time to ask Malia and Kira what their symbol would be, especially since they aren’t even here in Beacon Hills anymore. But if you want me to, I can ask, or whate-”

“It’s perfect.” Interrupted him Derek and Boyd finally relaxed, smiling with relief. “I just hope Stiles will love it too.”

“That’s definitely cute.” Spoke Cordelia, choosing that particular moment to appear in the loft, a small file in her arms. The two girls from the first day where behind her this time, and looked as emotionless as ever.

The Pack startled and then Boyd handed the small jewel to Derek. Cordelia just arched an eyebrow as the Alpha werewolf moved towards her to hand over the bracelet. “For Stiles.” He said, keeping his voice flat.

She tilted her head to the side and took the bracelet, cold fingers brushing over his for a moment, then nodded. “Goodbye, Alpha Hale.” She said, and disappeared between one blink and another, leaving the heartbroken Hale Pack with a small burst of hope.




Stiles did not have this. Stiles was going to die. Stiles was not emotionally ready to try and raise three children alone, which was proven the day Paula had to go down to the village with the emissary and the emissary in training.

It was close to the full moon, which didn’t help the mood of any of the three little wolves, and even normally calm Anastasia was throwing a fit and fighting with her sister at every turn. Bianca appeared every now and then after an argument to complain and then proceed to fight any other werewolf she saw, flashing her eyes and try to show her claws, and Leia?

Leia was holding on Stiles and crying hard, refusing to let go of him and crying harder if Stiles even hinted that he was going to put her down or give her to someone else. The werewolves in the pack didn’t seem to find this strange at all, but Stiles was really close to pull off all his hair.

Instead, he walked out towards the woods with her in his arms, wide eyed and trying to calm her, trying to make her laugh and throwing her a little in the air, but that only caused more crying. And seeing her face all scrunched up and flushed, screaming for something that Stiles didn’t know was the last straw. He… crumbled.

The teenager sat down at the base of the three, holding the girl close as tears appeared in his own eyes, sob escaping his mouth before he could stop them. They probably painted a pretty pathetic picture, him holding on to her while they both bawled their eyes out. It was pretty gross, not going to lie.

But he didn’t know what to do. What deity above had apparently hated him enough to convince him that adopting three little werewolves was a good idea?

Stiles couldn’t sleep without one of the three waking up and did not speak Spanish well enough to communicate with Paula or her brother. And the emissary’s son had been absent for the last couple of weeks, leaving Stiles alone in another Pack’s territory with basic communication skills.

Everytime Paula tried to speak to him, it ended up with her crying and hugging him, probably muttering some sort of comfort words in Spanish, while Stiles pretended that his eyes weren’t damp too.

It felt like everything he tried failed, and he didn’t even know why he was trying anymore. He hadn’t had a proper meal, shower or sleep in weeks, and it was showing. It was all he could do to hold on baby Leia and cry.

“Oh no. This won’t do.” Came a voice, and it took Stiles a few moments to realise that yes, he knew that voice and yes, that was English being spoken. When it clicked he snapped to attention, rubbing his eyes and cradling Leia in his arms, before finally finding the source of the voice.

She looked like she had aged 10 years- literally- since the last time he saw here, not more than two months ago. Her hair was longer, she was taller, but the frown in her face was the same.

Cordelia dropped the few items she was holding- a folder and a packaged gift- walking towards him with an eyeroll. “Hold her closer to your heart. It will soothe her.” she told him with a glance to the baby.

Stiles stayed still for a moment staring at her, before his brain finally caught up with her words, and he cradled Leia even closer, putting her head down on his chest.

The effect was immediate. Leia’s loud wails ceased abruptly, replaced with soft sniffles, looking up at Stiles with her big brown eyes still full of tears. But she didn’t start crying again, which counted as a win. She actually yawned, her eyelids dropping like all that crying had tired her out, and Stiles felt the tears reappearing in his own eyes.

“God…” he whispered softly, pressing a kiss on her small head, and looking down at her in wonder. “This is amazing, she’s actually…”

Cordelia rolled her eyes, beckoning him to follow her. “I guess they either forgot that you aren’t a wolf and don’t have their same instincts or they didn’t know how to explain it to you in English.” She assumed, not bothering to make sure he was following her.

Stiles kept his distance, too entrance by the small figure in his arms to actually pay attention at what she was saying. Or too sleep deprived.

Cordelia kept speaking nevertheless. “But you’ll be fine. Once she’s asleep, though, I want you to go and take a shower immediately, because you stink, and then straight to bed.” This time she turned around, speaking before he could get a word in between. “I’m a fae, Spark. I was literally born to handle supernatural babies, and my scent is familiar to her: I was there when she was born.”

Stiles scrunched his nose, sitting down on his bed with the baby still in his arms. “I have never been too far away from her since she was born.” He admitted, looking at Cordelia almost scared.

The fae snorted. “I can tell that, don’t worry. Of course your other two kids are jealous if you don’t make time for them. Werewolves are territorial and- you know what? This can wait. You’re both dead on your feet, and the faster you go and take that shower, the faster the entire Pack will finally catch a breath.” She took the baby from his arms in one fluid motion. “Go, Stilinski.”

The brunette stared at her for a moment, suppressing the urge to take Leia back in his arms or throw a hex at the fae, and nodded curtly. Despite everything, she was a familiar face, and he trusted her.

He forced himself to enjoy the shower at much as possible, but still it wasn’t even ten minutes before he was back in the room, cleaner than before but not in any way calmer. Cordelia’s eyes were pure judgement, but he ignored her, sparing a moment to locate Anya and Bianca asleep with Skyler on another bed, before plopping down in his own bed, making grabby hands at the still asleep Leia.

Cordelia made a face at him, but handed him back the child. Stiles shrugged. “I won’t be able to go to sleep anyway; what if I squash or hurt her in my sleep? Yeah, not going to risk it.”

The blonde girl’s eyes were fully calculating when she passed him a cup of fresh water, but Stiles was too tired to try and decipher what that look meant, downing the cup of water in one gulp.

A few minutes later, both him and Leia were fast asleep, while Cordelia watched them over with a smug expression on her face.




When Stiles finally woke up, his first instinct was to panic. Leia was not asleep next to him and he didn’t know where she was and-

“Hey.” The brunette looked up, breathing heavily, and came face to face with Keith, Paula’s brother. The werewolf smiled at him kindly, before furrowing his brows, like he was thinking hard. “Calm. Down.” He pronounced carefully, voice unsure and accent apparent. It was adorable.

Stiles found himself smiling just at his tone, and Keith beamed at the reaction. “Leia.” He added, pointing at the small bed next to his own, where the little girl was awake but not complaining, just playing around in her own world.

Stiles stared at her with a dopey grin on his face, which only became bigger when he realised the figures curled on the bed next to his were the twins and Skyler. He nodded at Keith. “Gracias.”

The werewolf’s grin became even larger, as he fixed his glasses and pointed between the two of them. Stiles watched him curiously as he tried to figure out how to make sure Stiles understood him. “You, me learn Spanish. Me, you learn English. Entiendes?” he tried.

Stiles scrunched his nose. “Voy a ensenarte el Inglés y tú vas a ensenarme el Español?” he tried, to which Keith literally lit up, nodding like an excited puppy.  

“Si!” Then he started to ramble in Spanish really fast, before stopping mid-sentence, with a sheepish smile on his face. “Discúlpame.”

“Keith, deja de hablar, lo vas a poner en coma.” Complained Cordelia, as she walked back in the room, some files still in her hands.

The boy glared at her, before spitting some other words in Spanish and sticking out his tongue out at her, before finally leaving the room. The fae glared at his back until the door closed between them.

“I hate him.” She seethed, sitting down at the edge of Stiles’ bed, a murderous expression on her face. Stiles snorted.

“Come on, he seems like a sweet guy.”  He complained, this time not covering his laugh at her outraged expression.

Cordelia rolled her eyes, before focusing on him again. “We have things to talk about.”

“How long have I been asleep?” asked Stiles instead, taking some water from the little bedside cupboard. He felt like he had been asleep for weeks, and it felt great.

Cordelia smirked. “You slept through the entire of yesterday and it’s almost noon.”

She cackled at the panicked expression on his face, waving him off. “Oh, shut up. We all agreed that you needed to recharge your batteries, and look at you now! You look better than ever.”

The spark glared at her, reaching inside the small bed for the baby. She sensed his presence immediately, curling in his arms and grabbing one of his fingers with her small hands. The boy felt his heart burning with love for the little thing.

Cordelia didn’t let him savour the moment, starting to talk almost immediately. “One thing that you have to remember at all times: werewolves are tactile and possessive creatures. What happened with Anya and Bianca is not irreversible, and I’m pretty sure human kids go through it too, if not as strongly. All they need is for you to ‘formally’ present the cub to them, since she’s now part of your pack.”

Stiles frowned at her words. “My pack? I thought this was the-”

“Sure, this is the Abano Pack, but they belong with you. They are your daughters; you are their Alpha, not Consuela. And before you say anything, Consuela knows, instinctly, that the cubs belong to you. She’d never try to take them away.” Finished Cordelia smoothly, face smug.

For once, Stiles didn’t want to slap that smile away. But she, at least had to know. “They’re not my biological kids.” He confessed, looking at anywhere but the fae. “I saved Anastasia and Bianca before they died, and only have Leia because her mother died.” He looked away again. “I don’t deserve any of them.”

Saying those words was not freeing at all. He had heard all those accounts of people saying that once they finally told someone the truth they felt like a weight had been lifted from their shoulders. Stiles felt nothing like that. He actually felt like he had betrayed all three kids in uttering those words.

The fae caressed Leia’s hair for a few moments, quiet as she watched Stiles overthink every single movement or expression that she portrayed. Then, she picked up a file from behind her, putting it down between the two of them. Her voice was almost bored when she spoke. “Those are the paper birth of certificates of Anastasia and Bianca. I stole them from Beacon Hills.”

Stiles’ eyes went wide at her words, both shocked and surprised. “Wait, you…? You knew? About them? And how…? Beacon Hills? You went to Beacon Hills?” he stopped, trying to regroup his thoughts in fully complete sentences. He pretended that his heart hadn’t frozen in a knot when she had mention Beacon Hills.

Cordelia sighed. “I’m a fae, Stiles. Finding out your deepest secrets is what I do.” She confided, eyes never wavering from his. It was clear that she hadn’t really wanted to admit that, probably afraid that Stiles would not trust her anymore.

Instead the brunette stared at her back for a few seconds. She could have done anything with that information. She could have told his dad where he was. She could have taken him back. She could have taken the kids away from him, since he was obviously not able to look after them and was not really related to them in any way.

She hadn’t. She had gone out of her way to find him a place. Tried her hardest to bring him back what he needed to actually make a life for himself even in the village they were at the moment. And Stiles could never have been more grateful.

He placed his hand on top of hers and smiled. “Thank you.”

Cordelia frowned for a moment, and then one of her rare smiles illuminated her face. She looked beautiful when she smiled, and Stiles was glad to be the one putting it on her face. “I’ve never had a sister before.” He confided, watching her go from a smile to a surprised laugh.

“What, I am not attractive enough for you Stilinski?” she asked, and he pretended to think about it.

“You were what, 8 the first time I saw you? I rhink it would have been creepy if I had fancied you at all.” He answered, making funny faces at Leia.

Cordelia snorted, picking up the papers in her hand. “Well, I’ve seen Derek Hale. I am not even offended.”

Silence fell between the two of them and Cordelia looked up at the boy with a frown. Stiles was looking outside the door, fists clenching and unclenching. “Please don’t say anything about Derek. Or the Pack.” He begged quietly.

The blonde girl took a look at his face and shrugged. “You’ll have to talk about them at some point.” She pointed out.

“Please.” He repeated, still not looking up at her. Just the mention of the Alpha’s name made him feel things. Things he wanted to forget, things he didn’t want to consider anymore. Things he hoped he could ignore forever.

Cordelia seemed disappointed in his decision and stood up, ready to leave the room. Stiles’ voice stopped her. “Bianca Claudia Stilinski.” The fae turned around a smile on her face. “Anastasia Talia Stilinski. And Leia Adelaide Stilinski.” He decided in the end, looking down at the papers.

Because life was a series of choices. And the moment he had brought the two girls back to life, he had made his. And Leia being alive and his arms was another decision. And he was going to stand by his choices.




Diego Diaz considered himself a pretty good judge of character. He usually had a knack for recognising qualities and talents hidden in a person, as well as knowing if someone was trustworthy or not. If someone was worth underestimating or not.

He had never made a mistake as big as the one he did with Stiles Stilinski. And who could blame him?

He had come back from a mission in the other Pack where the Alpha’s daughter lived, and found a new boy. A white boy, who was wearing clothes that were definitely too big on him and looked stressed every time he looked at him.

Stiles was always followed around by a fox familiar and two tiny werewolf, so he didn’t exactly scream dangerous!!! in Diego’s head. Plus he wasn’t that tall, probably 5’7? And the fae always following around looked more like his minder than his friend.

So when Cordelia had asked him to train a little with Stiles, he had deeply underestimated him. He had given him advantages like an idiot, and now he was getting his ass kicked right in front of the girl he had been crushing on for months now.

Paula was watching him with wide eyes and laughing every time either of them scored a point- which meant she was supporting Stiles a lot. Her brother, Keith had snucked out of cleaning dute and was hurling abuse at him while he congratulated Stiles in the same breath.

Stiles’ cubs were jumping around, yelling at their tata to ‘Finish him off’, ‘destroy him’ and ‘turn him in potato mash’. Little kids were terrifying.

The brunette was watching him almost too in control to be true, not even a scratch on his body. Diego was sure he had sand up his nose. “Where did you learn to fight like this?” he asked, standing up again.

Stiles didn’t relax, probably thinking it was a trap. It kind of was. “Spent some time with some witches and werewolf before coming here.” He explaining, offerning not much left.

Diego tried to use the moment of hesitation to call the Earth to him, throwing rocks in his direction at rapid speed. The brunette reacted quickly and instinctively, calling a wall of water from the ground to use a shield. Diego’s rocks smashed against it, but the boy didn’t care.

Him and the other two werewolves were staring at Stiles in utter bewilderement. Because, when he had started, they had thought he was an Earth Spark. And sometimes Earth Sparks could control air, like Stiles had demonstrated before.

But water? There was no way he could have used all three of those things unless-

“No WAY! YOU ARE-” Cordelia apparated in front of him, one hand on his mouth and a glare on her face.

She moved closer to him, whispering in his ear. “Yes, he is. No, we don’t want it to be public knowledge.” Then she fixed his clothes, stepping back a step. “I think that’s enough for one day. I’m going to check up on Lysandre and Leia.” She decided, nodding in Paula’s face. “Voy a revisar a tu hijo, Vale?”

The werewolf nodded at her, grateful as Stiles moved towards Diego, not even out of his breath. His hazel eyes were focused on him like he wasn’t quite sure what to make of him. “Cordelia told me you were a very talented and good fighter.” His face stated that he wasn’t impressed.

Diego smirked, sticking out a hand to him. “Sorry to disappoint. Damn, that should be written on my tombstone.” He thought out loud, and this time Stiles laughed. It was different when he laughed. His expression lit up and his face got very much softer, more carefree. He looked his age all of a sudden. He was so young, thought Diego. Sure, he was just 3 years younger than himself, but…

Stiles grabbed his hand, pushing him on his feet with a smile. “Nice to meet you, Diego.”



December - Allison's death

End December/beginning January - Stiles leaves Beacon Hills/accident happens



January - sheriff dies/comes back to life

February - Allison and Aiden come back to life/ Stiles and the twins live on the island

March - Stiles and the twins go to the witches

July - birth of Leia / death of 

July/August - Boyd and Erica come back to life/ Stiles joins the south american pack

August - Scott gives up Alpha Powers- Derek becomes Alpha of the Hale Pack

September - Cordelia comes back to Stiles

Chapter Text

“This is embarrassing.” Decided Stiles, staring dismayed at the full swing party that was going on around him. Paula was grinning at him as she danced with Diego, and the only person who heard him was of course, Cordelia who had appeared a few minutes’ prior with a video camera.

She rolled her eyes at him. “Come on, spark, it’s your birthday party! Make people happy.”

The brunette grunted, displeased and sent her a glare. “I knew befriending you was a bad idea and would come bite me in the ass.” He sighed.

The blonde girl smirked. “Idea? You think you had a choice? That is cute.

Stiles bit back a smile, walking away towards where the food was displayed, content. Really, once you actually stopped and got to know her, Cordelia wasn’t bad. She had a biting sense of humour, and was a pain in the ass; for all the good reasons tho.

She was also very good with the children, both his and Paula’s, even though she kept her distance from the rest of the pack. She was… a friend.

Then there was Paula, and just thinking about her made Stiles smile. She was three years older than him, same age as Diego. At the beginning, although he found her hilarious, Stiles kept his distance. She was an actual werewolf mother in his mind and probably wouldn’t take long that Stiles wasn’t the twins or Leia’s parent.

Until Cordelia had sighed and told Stiles the truth behind her son, Lysandre. Which was that the boy was in fact the son of her best friend, the daughter of the Alpha, Kaide.

Kaide had conceived Lysandre outside of marriage with a low-level beta werewolf during one of her visits to a foreign pack. When Alpha Consuela found out, she was very angry at her daughter and preoccupied for what the pack would say: controlling a pack of werewolves when she couldn’t seem to be able to handle her own daughter?

So, she had kept it quiet. Then she had taken both to a clinic in Sao Paulo, where a doctor had performed embryo transplantation from Kaide to Paula. Kaide wasn’t the mother type, and hadn’t been too reluctant to give the fetus away, and Paula had been happy to raise him as her own. The point was that DNA wise, Lysandre was not Paula’s, and this weighted on the girl.

Stiles had helped her get rid of that weight, repeating her that Lysandre might be the Alpha’s grandkid, but for all that mattered, he was her son. And that had only been the beginning of their friendship.

“Stiles, ven a bailar!” called him Keith, grabbing his hand and pushing him on the dancefloor.

“I don’t know how to dance!” said Stiles, watching in fascination as Paula and Keith started to, along with the rest of the Pack, exhibit themselves in a traditional dance. Even Diego’s dad, the Emissary, was dancing with the Alpha, while the son looked at them in disgust.

When he caught Stiles’ eye he winked. “Cool kids don’t dance?”

Cordelia waved the camera in front of him, smirking. “Come on, show us your moves, Stilinski!”

The boy sighed at the way the majority of people were staring at him expectantly, then thought: fuck it. It was his party, and it was the first time in years he felt so happy to celebrate it. He walked in the middle of the dance floor, and let himself be loose, making as many awkward moves as he could, the twins dancing along with him.

“Now watch him whip!” called Diego, grinning when Stiles actually attempted the dance move. “Now watch him nae nae!”

It was ridiculous. Utter nonsensical and definitely silly, and Stiles loved every single part of it. Even when Diego mocked every single dance move he did. Even when Paula asked him to go check on the babies every 10 minutes or so. Even when Keith tried to teach the twins how to breakdance. And even when Cordelia kept following him, video camera trained on his face.

He couldn’t stop smiling the entire night.


Stiles seemed happy. Which was good. That was the goal of the night.

Still, there was one more thing Cordelia had to do before delivering the video to the people who needed it the most. She snorted to herself. Since when had she become such a caring person?

The answer was easy. Since Stiles Stilinski had ended up in her life, one glare at a time. She wasn’t in love with the boy – goddess, no.

But she cared about him. And she wanted him to trust her. She – yikes- wanted to be his friend.

Which was why she immediately stiffened when the Emissary of the Pack, Alberto Diaz dropped by her at the end of the party, gaze fixed on the younger spark. “Stiles is an interesting boy, isn’t he?”

The blonde stayed quiet, looking at him with a face of polite interest, like she didn’t know what he was on about. Alberto continued, undeterred. “You seem to have taken a shine on him.”

“It’s not popular, but it isn’t unusual for a fae to take interest in a spark.” She said, curtly, her face devoid of any emotion. Not even her irritation was showing.

Alberto smirked. “Yes, but usually they are powerful sparks. You – and him, for that matter – continue to say that you don’t know what affinity is Stiles, but you put him under your wing nevertheless.”

This time the fae allowed to show her irritation. “I fail to see how this has anything to do with you? Stiles is a guest in your pack and will be treated as one. Unless you want to unleash the Court on you.”

The other man stopped smiling, looking at her warily. “The Court has no business with us.”

“Yes, but as you already noted, Stiles in under my wing. If something were to happen to him and I had any reason to suspect your involvement in it… I’m pretty sure the Court would make it their business.” Cordelia glared. “Leave the boy and his family alone.”

The emissary stared at her for a few seconds, but didn’t chance his luck. He gave an exaggerated bow and then left, a smile still present on his face.

Cordelia watched him go, feeling a little nervous herself, and almost didn’t notice when someone else sat next to her. When she turned around and saw Diego, she wasn’t as surprised as she should have been.

The green-eyed boy sighed, running a hand through his hair. “This ain’t good, is it?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

Cordelia stayed quiet for a second, and then shook her head. “No, it isn’t. Stiles isn’t safe here.”

“Judges ad inferos.” Said Diego with a low voice. Cordelia turned around, staring at him almost surprised. The boy smiled, then shook his head. “We will protect him. And when it’s time… we’ll help him escape.”

The fae had been surprised when he first spoke, but now nodded. “Not today. Today is his day.” Diego nodded at her, offering her his arm.

Then he looked at the package in her arms with a smile. “You got him a present?”

The fae blinked, looking down like she was only then realising she had a wrapped package in her hands. She snorted. “Do I look like I have the time to go and get him a birthday present?” she asked, walking away from the snickering boy.

When she finally entered Stiles’ cabin, the boy was laughing, Leia asleep on the pillow behind him and the twins holding up a rolled-up present for him.

“All by yourself?” he asked, feigning surprise as he opened the paper roll. Then he stopped, a real smile crossing his face as he took in the picture.

Cordelia knew what was drawn on it. The twins had made it their business to stop her and make her draw herself on the paper. It was a big drawing that consisted of their ‘family’. Anya had drawn herself and Leia, while Bianca had drawn herself and Stiles. Then Diego, Paula, Lysandre, Keith and Skyler.

Stiles traced his fingers on the drawing looking up at the girls with an adoring smile.

Bianca beamed. “Do you like it?”

“I love it.” He assured them, kissing them both on the head. Then he turned to Cordelia, gazing at the package in her hands with amusement. “Hey, Corrie. Got a present as well? Oh, you shouldn’t have!”

Yeah . She wasn’t going to tell him today. “Don’t call me Corrie. And I do have a present, but it isn’t from me.” She told him, throwing the package at him.

She could see the moment her words registered in his head and he narrowed his eyes at her, but she didn’t care. She was already gone, the tape from the party in her hands, ready to be delivered.


When she walked back inside to put down the camera, Stiles was asleep, wearing the bracelet on his wrist.




White noise. The smell of antiseptic and urine in the air.

Stiles was sitting on a chair, swinging his feet back and forward, feeling immensely bored as he waited for his father to finish talking with one of the newest deputies. It was out of boredom, really, that he stood up and started roaming the section where the prisoners were kept.

The men in the prisons were watching him, some smirking, and some other ignoring him completely. They knew him, and they knew his father. They weren’t going to try anything. Not that they could.

But one particular prisoner made Stiles stop. He was one of the newest additions. His eyes were the colour of grass and his hair was long and blond. He was leering down at Stiles, licking his lips appreciatively.

His name was Logan Reynolds, and he was a child rapist. The first times he had seen him, Stiles had just walked away, feeling ill and dirty just by the looks the man was giving his 9 years old self.

This time something happened. He felt as if he wasn’t himself as he walked towards the man’s prison, ignoring some of the prisoner’s warning. Logan smirked, but then frowned at him.

Stiles’ eyes felt like they were burning as he put a hand on the bars. His voice came out low and archaic, but at the same time it was his voice that was speaking. Heli ego sum Iudex et potestas data est mihi a Dea, moriemini [SM1]   .

Logan stared at him for a few seconds, although totally unaware of what was going on.

“Stiles! Where are you? We gotta go!”

“Coming!” Stiles spoke cheerfully and skipped away, like none of that had even happened.


Stiles finished washing his clothes, the dream of the night before replying in his mind. It felt more like a memory than a dream, but Stiles didn’t remember it ever happening in real life.

But the feeling of something hot going over him was not a dream. The way his entire body had felt like something was inside him… you couldn’t make up something like that.

He passed a wet hand over his face, trying to shake away the thoughts. The bracelet glimmered in the sun.

Right. The bracelet.

Cordelia had handed it to him for his birthday and he hadn’t taken it off since. He knew that it wasn’t a present from her and he knew exactly from whom it was. At first he had wanted to throw it away. He didn’t want to seem easy. He didn’t want to make it look like on simple bracelet and he was ready to forgive them all and go back to Beacon Hills.

But at the same time, he like the jewel. It was a constant reminder of what he was running away from and what he was going back to. It reminded him of his roots without being too painful to bear. It reminded him of the Hale Pack. His pack.

“Good afternoon, Stiles.” Came a voice next to him, and the boy suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.

Of course, it was Diego’s father. The man had been spending a lot of time around Stiles, no matter what he was doing. Always butting in his business, and happening to be around when Stiles was training.

Cordelia had told him to be careful about the man, and he had been. After all he didn’t want to be stuck there, no matter what it looked like. Yes, he liked the place. Yes, the pack was nice, even though he didn’t spend that much time with them.

But as Cordelia very candidly put in, for Alpha Consuela and Alberto Diaz, he was an asset. A potential to be exploited at all costs. And when Leia started speaking and talking? They would take it as their chance to struck and keep him.

“Alberto.” He answered, distractedly, hoping the man would go away. Fat chance.

“Where are your children?” he asked, in curiosity.

Stiles pointed towards were Leia was crawling along with Anya, Bianca and Lysandre, with Paula and Diego supervising. Another very frustrating thing: the way Diego and Paula circled around each other, as if they weren’t totally in love with each other and waiting for the other to take the first step.

Alberto smiled. “Leia is so grown up, isn’t she?” he asked.

This time Stiles couldn’t stop the smile from shining on his face. He remembered the day she was born, and how much they had gone from then. He loved her so much.

“She really is.” He answered, fond tone.

The man’s face was searching, but then he relaxed and smiled. “Merry Christmas, son.” He told him, slowly standing up again and walking away.

Christmas . It was already Christmas.

It had officially been more than a year since he last was in Beacon Hills.

It was hard to think about it. Hard to think of his father celebrating alone for the first time ever since-

Don’t be so hard on yourself, son.

The brunette looked up to see his mom sitting next to him, legs crossed and a smile on his face.

By the way, you’ve gotten pretty good at this, if you can just summon me even out of your head.

Stiles smirked. I’ve had a good teacher.

Your father is not alone. He has Melissa, Scott, the Hale Pack, the Station-

But he doesn’t have his son. Interrupted the brunette, looking away again.

He’ll always have his son. No matter what you think, he loves you and you’re always with him.

The boy stared at her for a few seconds, studying her profile. She gave them the tape, didn’t she. That’s why she was video taping me the entire time, just to give it to them.

His mother smiled, and for a second, when she put her hand on his shoulder, Stiles almost felt it. Merry Christmas, Stiles.

Stiles watched her disappear again, and smiled at the sky, a hand going to touch his bracelet in self comfort. Merry Christmas, mom.


Stiles waited until he was sure everyone in the Pack was asleep, before sneaking outside his tiny cabin using magic. Leia was awake, babbling in his arms despite the dummy in her mouth, and the twins were holding hands with each other as they followed Skyler outside.

He found them soon enough, cuddled out near the forest around the fire. Keith had Lysandre in his arms and was glaring at Cordelia, while Diego and Bianca were sat next to each other, both blushing.

The fae nodded at him as he approached, and shooed away Diego’s puma, who hissed at her, but moved away.

Stiles sat with them, and Cordelia quickly took Leia away from him. The fae had quickly developed a strong connection with the youngest member of the Stilinski pack, as she called it. She said that it was pure curiosity since she had never watched a baby grow up, but everyone knew better.

Diego stopped gazing in Paula’s face for a second to speak up. “So. Christmas.” He said, almost smiling. “I like Christmas.”

“Mi tambien!” called the curly haired werewolf, smiling at him. “Amo la navidad, especialmente cuando puedes intercambiar regalos con tus amigos.”

This time Stiles was the one who looked at her weird. “I thought the pack didn’t celebrate it?” Paula stared at him sternly. Stiles rolled his eyes before translating. “Pense’ que la manada no celebra la Navidad?”

Paula shook her head. “No lo hacen. Pero mi mama era gringa y vivia’ con otra manada hasta de venir aca.”

Keith smiled softly, staring at the flames. “Este es the first Christmas con friends.” He explained, running his fingers through Lysandre’s hair.

“What is Christmas?” asked Anya, frowning at Stiles a little.

Cordelia smirked. “Christmas is a capitalistic western festivity in which they con young children in believing that a man dressed in red goes around giving presents when in fact the parents are forced to go shopping for expensive toys to keep up the kids’ innocence.”

Diego bursted out laughing while Stiles glared at her. “No. Christmas is a beautiful day in which people exchange presents with each other and are kind to everyone. Everyone smiles and is happy and they sing songs to each other and are happy.” He explained.

Then he turned towards Paula. “On that note,” he started, reaching for something in his pocket. He stood up, and made his way between Diego and Paula, before pulling out the object.

Keith bursted out laughing, while Cordelia snorted. Diego turned beet red and Paula stared at Stiles almost in horror. The brunette didn’t let it deter him, moving the fake mistletoe between the two of them. “Come on, it’s tradition.”

The two stared at each other for a few seconds, matching flustered faces. Then Paula seemed to decided for them both and took his face in her hands and kissed him fiercely on the lips.

The only reason Cordelia and Stiles didn’t cheer was because they weren’t supposed to be celebrating Christmas at all.

“Now that that is out of the way,” started Cordelia, once the two lovebirds let go of each other faces, “I have something for you guys.” She told them, taking out a silver dagger from her purse.

Keith stared at it with a frown. “You got us a cuchillo?” he asked her with a raised eyebrow.

The blonde ignored him, taking a small leaf from within her pouch and throwing it in the flames. The fire turned a bright purple and then turned blue, changing between the two colours over and over again. Once she was satisfied, the girl put the dagger inside.

Stiles and the other watched in fascination as the blade went from silver to purple as well, instead of burning.

“I need your blood.” Said Cordelia suddenly, looking at all of them pointedly. Diego and Stiles stared at each other for a few moments before looking at her in confusion. She rolled her eyes. “My present for all of you is a runic tattoo. I’m going to draw the symbol of protection on each one of you and then write the names inside.” She pointed at the children. “It helps keeping a connection between a group of people. Doesn’t work on children, but on you four it should be fine.” She explained.

“How does it trabaja?” asked Paula, tilting her head to the side. Her and Diego were holding hands. How adorable, thought Stiles with a smirk.

“I would need a drop of blood from each of you, mix it a little with the ashes of the puffadop leaf that I threw in, it creates a good ink solution.” She explained. “Then I will use my magic to drag the design on you guys.”

With her fingers, she drew the design on the ground. It was a simple drawing, similar to a circle enclosed in another circle with the greek letter psi inside (ψ), but Cordelia had taught Stiles enough celtic that he recognused it as the rune for protextion.

Stiles offered his palm to her and watched almost in fascination as his blood tickled down his finger into the solution, sizzling like a fire on a stone.

“You better put your name as well, Corrie.” He added, as he watched her mixing his blood with Paula, Keith and Diego’s one. The fae seemed to look surprised at that for a second, before putting back a poker face.

“Fae’s cannot have tattoos.” She answered. “And don’t call me Corrie.”

Diego shrugged. “Then make an amulet that looks like the tattoo. But we still want your name. All of us.”

Even Keith nodded, shooting her a look. “Asi que, cuando me preguntan ‘who is your enemy?’ voy a show them the tattoo, y say ‘this one’.” He told her, making them all laugh.


“We also have a present for you, Stiles.” Said Diego after a couple of seconds. Cordelia had drawn the tattoos on each one of them and had bandaged it perfectly. Then she had reluctantly- yeah, as if- created an amulet for herself and put it around her neck.

Then Stiles had given out the painting he had done for each of them as a Christmas present. A portrait of each and every one of them doing something. Cordelia while she was in the water with the twins; Diego while he was training his spark, his tattoos glimmering in the sun; Keith with his reading glasses on, as he read the English version of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone; and Paula while she was dancing at his birthday party.

Each drawing was very detailed and made exclusively for them, and Stiles had put a lot of time in them. Still he was a little surprised when they all said nothing and just gave him the biggest hug of his life.

Stiles frowned at Diego. “You guys didn’t need to give me-”

Paula glared at him. “Pense’ que we worked on your autostima, Stiles. You are worth it.”

The boy said nothing and just shrugged his shoulders, following them towards the forest. And then he froze.

In front of him was a camper. A big spacious camper. And he knew.

Diego put a hand on his shoulder. “She’s starting to speak, and she tried to walk a few days ago. She’s a werewolf: she’ll probably be a pro by New Year’s.”

Keith sighed. “No tenemos mas tiempo, Stiles. Tienes que ir.” He said, regretfully.

Stiles shook his head, looking at his friends. “I can’t leave you behind.”

Not again. I can’t leave anymore friends behind.

Cordelia shook her head. “After this magical Christmas and all it brought us? You wish we could leave any of these people behind.”

Diego snorted, giving the fae a little shove. “And we have a plan. If we live now, we could create an inter pack war. And if you stay, you’ll find yourself bound, Stilinski.”

“I haven’t packed my bags.” It was an excuse and he was stalling. He knew it. They all knew it.

Paula came towards him and enveloped him in a bone crushing hug. “We love you Stiles. And we’ll meet again. I promise.” She said, and Stiles smiled proudly at her full sentence.

Yes, he thought. He wasn’t going to forget them. He wasn’t going to lose them.

It was not going to be the last time he ever saw them.




Jordan Parrish had seen a lot of shit in his few years working in Beacon Hills. He wasn’t sure what was about the small county that seemed to bring the weirdest serial killers and crazed animals, but he suspected… something.

Still, he definitely wasn’t ready for the sight of a young and completely naked female standing at the edge of the road, looking around her in confusion.

The deputy stared at her wide eyed for a few seconds in his car, before snapping back in attention. He was a deputy. She was a citizen obviously in need of help. He had to act.

He stopped the car at the end of the road, jumping out of the car. “Good evening, ma’am.” He greeted.

The girl was looking at him in confusion, her green eyes a little puffy and red, and her entire body shaking. She seemed in shock, and the young man could emphasise with that.

He shrugged off his jacket moving a little closer to her, but at the same time trying not to look scary or dangerous. “I am not here to hurt you. I am here to help.” He promised. “My name is Jordan Parrish and I’m a deputy for Beacon Hills Sheriff Department.” He explained then, showing her the badge.

The girl moved her mouth as in to speak, then changed her mind, delicately taking the badge away from Jordan. She glanced at it for a moment, and nodded. The young man relaxed a little, then passed her his coat. “It’s very cold outside. Would you like me to take you to the Station? Hospital?”

The green-eyed girl shook her head repeatedly, and grabbed the coat from his hands, all but snatching it and putting in on. Then she stared at him for a moment, before shaking her head again. “I am not hurt. Not anymore.”

Her voice was a surprise to Jordan. It was quite low, and steadier than he thought it would have been. He had the nagging suspicion that if it hadn’t been for the cold and the fact that she was wearing nothing, she would have been very scary.

He nodded slowly, unsure what to do, and the girl stepped forward. She tilted her head to the side, like a wild animal would and blinked at him a couple of times. “You smell like fire.”

The deputy froze, his mind suddenly replaying images of his combat days, images of fire, and burning, and screaming for his life. The bomb going off in his hands, and everything smelling like death-

“I’m sorry.” Said the girl, and Jordan blinked back, noticing how close she was all of a sudden and how concerned she looked. Then she tilted her head again, almost familiarly. “Is a shower one of the things you proposed?”

Jordan should say no. Jordan should take her to the hospital, or the police department. Jordan should not let her climb in the car with him. He should not let a complete naked stranger wearing his coat sit next to him and start playing with the radio like it wasn’t big deal or like she didn’t have leaves all over her hair and cuts on her feet.

But he did anyway.


“Sorry for the mess.” Apologized Jordan, as he and the girl stepped inside the apartment. He was pretty aware of how gross it looked; clothes all over the living room and remains of his last meal on the table.

The dark-haired girl watched the small apartment with a frown, eyes cataloguing everything. Then she shrugged. “My room used to be messier.” She told him, smiling a little.

“This is the bathroom.” He said after a few seconds of watching her stand in the middle of the room. “The hot water is working. And I’ll leave some fresh clothes at the door. I’m going to get something for you to eat as well.” He told her, already moving to do exactly what he said.

“Jordan.” Called the girl, and when he turned around she was already beside him, a hand on his arm. “Thank you.”

The man just smiled, putting a hand on hers. “I promised to help you.” He explained before walking back in his bedroom.

He listened for the tell-tale noise of the shower turning on and only then allowed himself to freak the fuck out.

What the hell was he thinking? Bringing a stranger to his own house? He didn’t even know her name!

But something in his gut had told him that he could trust her. There was something about her, something almost wild, dangerous and primal that reminded him of Beacon Hills. Something that drew him to her for some reason.

It was like Beacon Hills. He had never meant to stop and put down roots in Beacon Hills. He had been looking to go find a job in San Fran. And while he was driving towards the city, he had just… felt it in his bones.

A need, a deep-rooted desire to turn left, to change route. And when he finally arrived to Beacon Hills? He had just never left.

He grabbed a jumper from his closet and a pair of trousers that were clean enough for the girl to wear, then dropped them in front of the bathroom. He was about to move away in the kitchen when he heard the sound of something that wasn’t quite the sound of the shower. It was sniffling and…

She was crying, he thought in realisation. Something inside him broke a little at the thought of the poor girl, probably curled in the shower crying. He trusted his gut. That girl needed help and he could give it to her.

He slowly moved away towards the kitchen and drowned the sound of the bathroom with his noisy moving around to get something to eat for both of them. He even turned on the TV for good measure, as he put some macaroni cheese in the microwave and put the pizza in the oven.

Then he took out his laptop and waited for it to turn on while he distractedly followed the things going on the TV.

“Uh,” started a voice.

Jordan turned around to face her, the almost ready mac and cheese in his hands and then nearly dropped the pot on the ground. His eyes were wide open and it was hard to keep himself from showing too much surprise.

Because the girl was the most beautiful person he had ever seen in his goddamn life. Her hair, even though it was wet, was long and wavy, almost waist-length and her eyes were as green as the sea. The sweater Jordan gave her was a little too small on her, showing off her curves, but the trousers were her perfect size.

She narrowed her eyes at him, moving her hair behind her ear, a little self-conscious. “What?” she asked.

Jordan swallowed, immediately starting to move again. “Nothing, uh, sorry. Hungry? Got pizza and macaroni cheese, your pick.” He asked, trying to mask his awkwardness.

The girl let it slide, sitting down at the table with a nod, looking hungrily at the pizza. “Yes, please.”

She ate like a starved animal. Not in the sense that she was hungry; more in the sense that she hadn’t had that particular meal in a while and she wanted to savour every moment of it, and instead she ended up finishing too quick. She finished the entire pizza (Jordan had like, one slice) and finished a full plate of Mac & Cheese, before putting down the fork, looking sheepish.

Before she could apologise, Jordan shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. Now, tell me something about you.”

The girl went stiff, looking at him from under her bangs with her distracting eyes. As a person with green eyes themselves you’d think Jordan would stop getting distracted by hers, right? Wrong.

“What do you want to know?” she asked, looking around the kitchen bored.

Jordan shrugged. “Your name, for one?”

The girl cracked a smile, and then frowned again. “Laura.” She said finally, twisting her fingers in her lap. “My name is Laura.”

He smirked. “Do you happen to have a surname, Laura?” he asked, and she sighed.

“I would tell you, but… it’s more trouble than it’s worth.” Laura sighed, watching the confusion on Jordan’s face. “It’s just… it’s a big mess. And I can’t drag you into this. It’s more complicated than it looks.”

The deputy ran a hand in his hair. “Listen, Laura, I don’t want to seem patronizing or what not, but… this is literally Beacon Hills. Shit stuff happens here all the time. Try me.” He insisted. When the girl still refused to speak, he huffed. “A man that was supposed to have been burned alive but survived was seen a couple of weeks ago, walking on the streets after he had gone missing for years. Teenagers who were unofficially written as dead, suddenly came back to Beacon Hills, alive and well. Mountain lions striking-”

He stopped abruptly as he watched Laura freeze for a second, then all but rush to his laptop. She didn’t touch it, but just kept staring at the picture in utter shock.

Jordan watched her carefully. “What? Is something wrong?” he asked, sparing a look at his screensaver.

“What is this? Where was this picture taken?” she asked, hands almost shaking.

The man was a little afraid she was going to faint on him. “This? This was the Police department official Christmas dance, and those are the deputies, with the Sheriff.”

“Him.” She said, pointing at a handsome man with blueish green eyes. “We need to go to him. Please?”

Jordan was having a whiplash from the questions and demands, to be honest. But he was curios, as he took his coat and put it on. “Why?”

Laura was pretty close to tears when she spoke, but she was smiling. “Because my name is Laura Alice Hale and Derek Hale is my brother.”


“Is there always so much paperwork?” sighed Derek, as he went through the last couple of pages that he still needed to write up.

Deputy Ramirez laughed. “For the newbies? Hell yeah.”

The man gave her a half glare. “I’ve been here for months now.” He complained, knowing it wouldn’t do much. Julia Ramirez had no sympathy.

She stared at him deadpan. “And I’ve been here for years, Hale, so suck it up.” She winked at him on her way out. “Just hope someone else new comes in soon. Deputy Parrish was a newbie for almost two years. See how happy he was of giving you all the stuff he had to do?”

Derek snorted, starting to type again. “You guys are horrible. This is supposed to be a team work.” He called half-heartedly, making the woman chuckle again as she picked up her bags from the floor.

“Have a nice weekend, Hale!” she called, before leaving the office.

To be quite honest, Derek didn’t even mind the paperwork and stuff. He welcomed it, even. Having so much to do meant that his life was a little more full after the empty space Stiles had left behind. Between the station and the pack and trying to keep Peter in check, there wasn’t much time for him to sit and think, and he was glad.

But today something was off. Derek felt unnaturaly on edge, all of his sense suddenly sharper. It was like something was coming, and the last time he had felt that way? It had been day before the kanima showed up.

He spent a couple of minutes debating with himself, before sending a massive message to the entire pack, even Malia, Kira and Danny.

From : Kira

Text : me and mals are fine. Something happened? Danny is with us.

From : Allison

Text : I don’t know what vibes you’ve been receiving from the pack bond, but Isaac and scotty are fine. Better than fine, if I might add, so plz

From : Erica

Text : why you asking. I’ m fine.

From : Boyd

Text : I’m fine are you?

From : Lydia

Text : no strange supernatural feelings. You all right?

He debated whether to tell Lydia about what he was feelings while pretending not to read between the lines of what Allison was saying, and then decided against it. He didn’t want them to worry for no reason.

He ran a hand on his forehead, before minimizing the internet page he was on. He had all the time in the world to finish off his report, and then stopped, looking at his desktop, smiling sadly without meaning to.

It was one of the pictures that was on the cassette the fae gave them the day after Stiles’ birthday, as a present. The sheriff had cried when he had seen his son, laughing and dancing around a group of strangers and looking happier than he had been in a long time.

There were also the two twin girls that the sheriff had seen when he ‘died’ which had opened another entire can of worms: who were they? Why were they still with Stiles? They looked like babies, but if by any chances they were faeries, there was no way of knowing for sure.

Derek’s favourite picture had been one sneakily taken when the brunette wasn’t aware. He was looking at something over the fire corner, eyes open and calm, body language languid and a soft smile on his face. And Derek had saved it without even thinking.

Because if his mate looked like this only when he was away from Beacon Hills, Derek loved him enough to let him go.

Love . The word tasted strange in his mouth. Loving meant loyalty, always standing behind one’s decision, never doubting one another. It meant trust and family. For a wolf, it meant mate. To Derek, it meant Stiles.

“Hey, listen, wait, I have to tell him, just wait a second please!” Derek looked up from his laptop at the voice coming from the corridor. It was Jordan, but he could tell he wasn’t alone.

What was Deputy Parrish doing at the Station at that ungodly time on his off day?! The man walked in quickly, looking at Derek with a strained sort of look, that had the man on edge immediately. “Deputy Parrish.”

The man relaxed enough to roll his eyes. “I’m not in uniform, Derek. There is something-” but he didn’t finish the sentence, because right then the door opened again and Derek felt like he lost all of his breath at once.

Because there was no way- it wasn’t possible- a trick- impossible-

“No.” he shook his head a couple of times, blinking rapidly at what was in front of him. He could see her lips moving, but it wasn’t her, it couldn’t be. “NO!” He growled, teeth growing sharp and eyes going a deep crimson.

Parrish yelped, jumping back and trying to push the girl away from Derek too. But the other didn’t even blink, just walked up to his face and roared right back, eyes flashing a gorgeous shade of gold.

She looked incredibly angry, and Jordan was very slowly dying of terror next to the two creatures. “Don’t you ever try to Alpha me into submission again, asshole!” she said, claws out and pocking at Derek’s forehead in a gesture that was more annoyed than threatening.

Derek stared at her, his eyes finally fading out at the shock of the girl roaring back at him. Her smell was the same, her body language the same, everything about her was just-

“Laura.” He murmured, disbelieving as a tear rolled down his cheek. “Oh my god, Laurie.”

The girl blinked rapidly, as if forcing herself not to cry too, but was failing miserably. She wrapped her arms around his neck, hiding her face and sobbing quietly in his shoulder. “It’s me, Der. It’s me, I’m back.”

Parrish could only wonder what the fuck did he got himself into.




“Why do you think Derek called us for?” asked Erica, halfway through the drive. Her and Boyd had climbed on Lydia’s car, leaving Scott, Isaac and Allison to talk about whatever polyamorous trouble they were facing.

The banshee just shrugged. “I don’t know, but he texted us. And we all know Derek doesn’t text. So, whatever it is, it’s obviously important.”

“He seemed anxious yesterday.” Commented Boyd. At the girl’s stare, he shrugged. “He texted Kira, and Malia and even Danny as well as everyone else in the Pack. The sheriff said he was antsy all day and even I felt something off about him.”

Erica seemed to ponder it, before smirking. “My, my, you sure are cocky about being his second in command.” Her boyfriend just smirked in answer, and she turned her attention back on the drive. “But you are right. I just hope it isn’t something about Peter again, because I hate that guy’s guts.”

Lydia huffed. “I wish he was dead again. He would make us all a huge favour.”

“I wish Stiles was here. He would have known what to do with him.” Added Erica after a few seconds. The car fell silent, everyone suddenly sombre, like every time Stiles was brought up.

It wasn’t even avoidable. Stiles was present in every single part of their lives and there was nothing they could do about that. It was like pretending your leg wasn’t there. How could you do that?

“Lydia, you got a new message.” Commented Erica after a few minutes, her hand going automatically to pick up the phone from the dashboard.

The redhead frowned, and nodded at her. “Open it. Who’s it from?” she asked, distractedly as she parked in front of the Hale loft.

“J.W.?” Erica furrowed her eyebrows. “Who’s that?”

They were lucky they had already stopped the car, because if Lydia had frozen like that in the middle of the road, they might as well have said bye to their limbs. Her heart was racing like crazy, and her knuckles were almost white with the strength she was holding the steering wheel. Erica glanced at Boyd who was just frowning back at Lydia.

Finally, the red head took a deep breath and turned back to Erica. “What… what does it say?” she asked, her eyes suddenly so vulnerable, both wolves looked away.

Erica glanced back at the phone. “Uhm, ‘Hi Lydia. How are you? I was just wondering whether or not you changed your e-mail, cause I wanted to send you a message. If that’s all right. I’m just- I am ready. And I miss you. J.’” finally a bell rang in Erica’s head. “Hold up, is this Jackson?”

Lydia didn’t answer and didn’t move, but she didn’t need to. Both her and Boyd and Erica knew the blonde was right. She felt like she couldn’t move, let alone answer that so innocuous and simple text message.

“I have no idea what’s happening and since when you and Jackson are on talking terms,” started Boyd, reaching forward and putting his hand on the girl’s shoulder. “But what I know is that whatever you decide to do with him will be the right choice. Lydia, you have the right to feel however you want to feel, and we’ll support you. But right now Allison, Scott and Isaac are waiting for us, and so is Derek.”

“Right.” Said the banshee, shaking herself. She painted a smile on her face and stopped the car completely. “I might not have said it often, but I’m glad you are both part of the pack.”

Boyd smiled, while Erica winked at her, opening the door of the car. “Awh, love you too Lyds.”


Derek was definitely tense when the pack finally climbed all the way up the stairs and stopped in the middle of the loft, staring at the two people behind him with confused eyes. This was the bit where he was supposed to explain, but he wasn’t exactly sure how to explain. Hi everyone, this is my dead sister Laura and this is the man who found her and now knows about werewolves Jordan Parrish? You might know him, I work with him?

Of course, it was Laura who broke the silence. “So you must be Derek’s pack.” She snorted. “Got to say, I’m not even a little surprised, Der.”

Lydia glanced at the girl and then at Jordan, who was staring at all of them and nodding, like a particular confusing riddle had just been explained to him, and she nodded too. “You’re Laura Hale.” She guessed.

Scott gasped, moving a little forward. “Oh shit, it’s true. I remember her from-” he interrupted himself, and looked at Derek for a second before looking away.

Laura grinned. “From when you found my dead body in the woods with little Mieczyslaw?” she asked, amused.

“Bless you.” Said Isaac, while Scott just frowned.

“How do you know Stiles’ real name?”

Derek turned to stare at her in confusion this time, because he didn’t know Stiles’ real name, so how could she? His sister shrugged. “Girl had to make money somehow. Used to babysit him back in the day, and his dad shouted that name so often it stuck with me.”

Lydia and Boyd glanced at each other for a second, seemingly having a conversation without using words. Then dark boy nodded in her direction. “So Stiles knew you?”

“I don’t know if he would remember me, but yeah. We spent a lot of time together back in the day, if that’s what you mean.” Said Laura, taking a seat next to Parrish.

Isaac pointed at him, as if only now realising there was a human in their midst. “Wait, what is he doing here?”

“He is the one who found Laura,” explained Derek, as the deputy raised up both arms in surrender.

“Plus, they kind of shifted in front of me.” Added Jordan with a simple shrug. “Plus, at least now I understand why you guys spend so much together. I mean, I had my theories, but none was as crazy as this.”

Erica snorted. “An adult spending so much time with a bunch of teen agers. I am surprised Derek is still in the force to be honest.”

“So what now?” asked Allison, crossing her arms around her chest. “I mean, no offense but you’re kind of-”

“Officially dead?” Laura smiled brightly at her. “One step at a time. First of all, I need to eat something, I’m starving. Second, Cora is alive? I need to see her.”




Stiles could feel the rush, the excitement of the hunt and the desperation of the prey, both of them soaking the forest down to the roots. He could see them as well. A young woman, running for her life, followed by armed people, ready to kill her with no mercy.

But stiles got there first.

He could see the moment the woman realised she wasn’t alone in the woods, and the moment she recognised him. Her face changed from one of terror to one of surprise, like she wasn’t sure what to make of him being there in front of her.

“You?” she asked, moving a little backwards, as Stiles moved forwards towards her.

The spark didn’t reply to her, just kept moving until he was right in front of her with his hand outstretched towards her.

She stared at it for a few seconds, then seemed to decide that he was safe, and took it.

A stream of memories went from her straight into Stiles. Hunting, killing werewolves. Killing supernatural creatures for the sake of it. The Hale Fire. Trying to murder Scott McCall. Torturing Derek Hale. Becoming a werejaguar and becoming the hunter’s prey.

Without giving her time to process what had happened, Stiles grabbed Kate Argent and with his bare hands snapped her neck.

“Oculum pro oculo, dentem pro dente. Iustitia.”

Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth. Justice.


“Why are your hands covered in blood?” asked Cordelia, looking as composed as ever as she stared down Stiles from the front door of the camper. The boy looked a little jumpy, eyes wide as he stared at his own hands, but snapped to attention at her words.

“You have to come see something. I did something, I-” he shook his head. “You have to come and see for yourself.”

The blonde fae looked at him for a few seconds, before nodding slowly. The children were still asleep, and even if they woke up, they would know immediately thanks to Skyler.

Neither of them spoke during their walk, Stiles too busy freaking out, and Cordelia just very curios. She knew what was happening to the boy, of course; but justice had a funny way of operating, and she wanted to know what was Stiles’ way.

A boy who had already suffered so much, how could he still believe in it enough that his spark burned for it?

“Here.” Said Stiles, as they came to a stop in a small clearing, where a very dead blonde woman was laying on the floor, her neck snapped in two.

Cordelia arched an eyebrow. She had no idea who the woman was, but she knew she was a werejaguar the moment she saw her. Now what she needed to know was who was she to Stiles.

“Do you know this woman?” she asked, and he nodded curtly.

Then he sighed and spoke. “This is Katherine Argent. She is Chris Argent’s sister and Allison’s aunt. Also she used to date Derek.” At that he scoffed, looking away from her body and kicking the ground in front of him.

Cordelia knew she was right, but still she had to ask him. “You didn’t kill her because she was dating Derek right?”

“Wait did I say she was dating Derek? I meant her 10 years older than him ass was abusing his 14 years old self with her paedophilic ass and then manipulated him into telling her where he was hiding and burned down his entire family.” He corrected himself, pain and anger seeping through his façade.


The fae didn’t comment on it, just kept her eyes on the girl’s werejaguar snapped neck. “Have you ever heard the legend of Mercy, Justice and Vengeance?”

Stiles squinted at her, obviously wondering what the fuck was she going on about. But then he shook his head, still staring at his blood-stained hands with a cold and detached look on his face.

“As the goddess narrates, there was a time before you and me and everyone where the world lived in Chaos. It wasn’t a pretty world. People killed and died for nothing every day and murderers and rapists and evil doers just did what they wanted without retribution.

To re-establish control in the world, three souls were sent on Earth. The older one was Vengeance. Vengeance absolutely adored Earth as it was and would have done anything to keep it as it was; even killing his own siblings, Justice and Mercy.

But they were too smart for him. Mercy was the holder of the spear of justice and the ax of vengeance both, and she had always been somehow on her younger brother’s side. She was a gentle soul, so much different from Vengeance, but still loved him as her brother.

The younger soul was Justice. Justice was the most different of them. Both Vengeance and Mercy, represented two polar opposites of the same thing. Justice, however had a very neat vision of what was right and what was wrong, and for him, both his siblings’ causes was wrong.

Justice only wanted the truth to reign, which meant for him, wipe down the entire of humanity and create a new race of people abiding from the law.

That caused a war between Vengeance and Justice, a war that could have only be terminated when one striked the other with the Ax of Vengeance or the Spear of Justice, both of which were in Mercy’s hand.

The fight got so intense and scary that Mercy herself escaped away from her brothers, retiring with their arms in the sacred temple of the Goddess.

There, Mercy begged the Goddess to stop her brothers from killing each other and the world, and the Goddess listened.

She cursed both Vengeance and Justice, forcing them into human bodies that would decay and break with each passing day, rending them fully mortal. Because of this curse, Vengeance and Justice are destined to never fully die, just to reincarnate in a new human body whenever the old one dies.

But Mercy had forgotten the first rule of the Goddess: no arms were to enter her temple no matter what. So she too was cursed, to carry the horrible arms forever, without dying, knowing that every lifetime Vengeance and Justice were going to find them and try and destroy each other with them. And I think that one of the souls is in you right now, Stiles.”

“Justice? I am Justice?” asked the brunette, momentarily focusing back on the girl, a little disconcerted. The irony of it all.

Cordelia bit her lip and shrugged. “I believe so. And it only makes sense given all you’ve told me, and your dreams you haven’t told me about.”

Stiles couldn’t even be angry at her for snooping in his head yet again. Honestly, how could he even be surprised anymore? This was Cordelia he was talking about. Snooping was her nature. What concerned him the most was the fact that basically, his body was yet again outside of his control. He gave the fae a look. “So, am I being possessed again?”

The blonde girl shook her head repeatedly. “This is a little different, Stilinski. The major thing here is that you are Justice. Justice is not controlling you, Justice is part of you. You can control your own body because it’s your body. Justice is just a tool in your possession.” She smiled at him. “Just like magic is part of me. Justice… it’s basically your spark.”

When the boy still didn’t look convinced, she shrugged. “There are ways to control your spark, to control it. You just need a crystal to which you are attuned, and that’s it.”

“Justice isn’t always good or nice, is it?” asked the brunette finally looking up at her. Cordelia didn’t answer, just held on his shoulder. He sighed. “Let’s get rid of this body first. The crystal, next.”




South America was… interesting. Especially if the bandits/smugglers/fake rich people couldn’t see you. Although he would never admit it, he was glad for Cordelia’s company.

Studying about his spark, taking care of the little wolves, finding out about the world: Stiles could see a life for himself out there.

“Tata, eating?” asked Leia in question, her big eyes staring him down from the floor.

Stiles honestly felt a little pang of excitement every time the girl said a new word. Honestly, just the fact that she could speak so clearly at such an early age, made his heart burst with pride. That was his little girl.

“Not yet Lele. Tata has to go shopping first.” He explained, going to pick up his shoes.

Leia was right behind him, holding on to his trousers with her fist. “Ousside?” she questioned. “Leia come!”

Stiles arched an eyebrow at her. “What do we say?”

“Peeease! Leia come pease!” she said, trying to jump on him.

Stiles immediately reached down and picked her up, giving her a big kiss on the cheek. “Okay. But you gotta get your shoes first. Got it?”

Leia smiled brightly and gave a wet kiss back. “Yes, please. Shoes.” She repeated, climbing down and picking up her shoes by herself. Even though she couldn’t put them on by herself yet, it was important that she could recognise them and understand what they were for.

At least that was what Cordelia said. When it came down to the children, Stiles was known to be quite the pushover.

Anya and Bianca huffed from where they were perched on their chairs, writing down the homework Cordelia and Stiles insisted on giving them every week. Werewolves children were known to be quite intelligent, and between that and them not having a proper curriculum to follow, Stiles and the fae worked with what they got.

The spark gave a kiss to both of them on the head, before taking Leia’s hand and her pram. “Right, we’ll be back as soon as possible. See you guys in a bit.”

It was almost noon, but the road was still full of people. That was something that Stiles always felt weird about. There in Brazil, people were everywhere. There wasn’t a quiet day or quiet time. Even late at night, there were people in the streets. It was easy to go through unnoticed.

And the sound and smells… they were so different and overwhelming, and Stiles loved immerging himself in them. Even Leia started laughing the moment they were on the road to the market, clapping her hands to a rhythm that was probably too far for him to hear.

“Maçãs! Maçãs frescas!” was calling a vendor, ringing a bell and pointing at his apples.

“Morangos!” “Biscoitos, biscoitos caseiros!” “Gelados para dias frios!" "Peixe, carne e tudo o que precisamos!"

“Strawberries?” Asked Stiles, looking at the Leia with an arched eyebrow. The girl squealed in delight clapping her hands, and Stiles gave her his best stern parent look. Which wasn’t much, but at least he tried.

“Remember that you have to share-"he started, as he reached with his hands for the bowl of berries, and then stopped abruptly, moving his fingers away from the bowl. It had been quick and relatively painless, but Stiles’ fingers still twitched with the remaining of electricity. It had been the most bizarre feeling, like a sudden jolt of… Belonging. 

"Você quer os morangos ou não?” Asked the seller, frowning at the way Stiles had just frozen, eyes on the strawberries. The spark blinked a couple of times and nodded, letting the guy pick up the fruits for him. What was that feeling?

“Muito obrigado.” Thanked him Stiles, taking the bag of fruits from the man’s hands.

“Please, Tata?” asked him Leia, making grabby hands at the bag of fruits in his hands.

Stiles smiled, momentarily forgetting all about the weird feeling and giving a couple of small strawberries. He was still reaching in the bag to get some fruits for himself when he bumped into someone in front of him, sending the guy’s phone on the ground.

“I am so sorry!” apologized Stiles in Portuguese, bending down to get the phone, one hand still on the handle of the pram. The moment he touched the phone, though, that buzzing feeling from before ran through his entire body again, more intense than before although still painless.

Gold and snakelike eyes flashed in his mind, and scales, and a swimming pool, a red gym suit, fangs and claws and cars and jeeps . Stiles didn’t even need to look up to know who was in front of him, but it was still a shock to hear the familiar voice.


Blue eyes and golden hair, Jackson looked exactly like he did last time Stiles saw him. The same haircut, the same eyes. But his trademark smirk was gone.

He looked more cautious now, somehow. He used to be stiffer before, always worried about someone coming and taking his spot away from him, someone being better than him. But now he was relaxed, almost at ease, albeit his expression didn’t hide his confusion at coming face to face with Stiles after so many years in such a place.

“If it isn’t the Jackson Whittemore.” Answered Stiles, after what felt like years. “What are you doing here?” he asked him, tightening his grip on the pram in case he needed to make a quick exit. Jackson’s eyes tracked down his movements and he arched his eyebrows as if asking if Stiles was being serious.

“I could ask you the same exact question. Brazil seems to be a little far away from Australia. Or Beacon Hills, for that matter.” At Stiles’ look, he shrugged. “Derek called me. They are looking for you, but according to Deaton, your plan was to go to Australia.”

The plane crash seemed so far away at that moment. “You know a lot.” He mused instead, tilting his head to the side.

Jackson studied the girl in the buggy for a second, before looking up at him in confusion. “I do. And I’m going to help you.” He looked at the crowd around the market, and took a step closer. “The Hale Pack is coming to Brazil.”




Stiles wasn’t sure what he was meant to do, Jackson’s words still churning around his brain. The Hale Pack. Coming all the way to Brazil for Cora. Right at the same time he was there.

It was an opportunity. To see them. And to let them see how much he had changed. How different he was now that he wasn’t with them anymore. How much better he was away from them.

But it also meant meeting Scott. And Lydia. And Derek. Was he ready for that? Was he ready to see Derek Hale? To speak to him? To go back to them?

Was he ready to see Allison, who he had all but killed the last time he had seen her? Or Boyd, who had never truly liked or cared for him? Or Erica, who probably still hated him for being an utter jackass to her?

It would have been so easy to just take the camper and disappear. They’d never had to hear he was there. He would get rid of any problem. It could be so easy.

But what about the children? For a fleeting moment, Stiles had had the idea of letting them grow up there, in Brazil. He would find a little international school where they could go and learn. And perhaps he could get a job as a teacher or something.

There was also the idea of going back to the Pack. Imagining Anya, B and Lele playing with Scott. Or listening to his father’s silly stories. Or even having a family, an actual werewolf family like Derek’s. Why shouldn’t he take that chance? For them?

“You could come with me. I came to visit Cora, and that’s how I found out the Pack was coming here. But if you came with me… I have enough money for more boat tickets. You could come to London with me.”

At first Stiles had laughed at the idea. Him and Jackson Whittemore? Living together in La belle Europe? In what alternate universe?

But in a bizarre way, it fit. It made sense. Him and Jackson had met each other for a reason. It wasn’t just chance or whatever that had brought them to see each other after so many years. Like Cordelia would say, it was fate.

They were both outcasts from the same pack; for different reasons, of course, but still outcasts. And because of that they were pulled towards each other. They needed each other. No matter how weird and crazy the entire idea sounded.

Cordelia looked at him from where she was laying with the two werewolves and nodded, without saying anything. Stiles smiled.

“Thank you, Cordelia.”




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Translated code

[Dear Paula,

How are you? I hope you’re well and finally free of that Pack.

How are Lysandre and the rest? I hope you and Diego are also okay *wink*

You might be surprised to hear from me after so many months. The truth is, I’m at a crossroad. I have a choice to make and it might affect my life even more.

My old pack is coming in the same place I am right now, and I have three choices:

4.      I could stay and meet them. I could let them meet my pups. Possibly go back home with them. Make things right with my father, perhaps? I don’t know. Speak with my ex pack mates, forgive them all. Let them get to know my pups. Or possibly, get them taken away from me.

5.      I could run. Find somewhere else to stay. Perhaps Venezuela, or something. The kids are all speaking something between Spanish and Portuguese, and they’re good. They also understand Polish. I could take them with me somewhere, but that would mean yet again denying them a chance to go to school. Grow up normally.

6.      I could leave Brazil with an ex packmate. Go live with him somewhere far away. Start afresh again. Give my children new chances. Having an actual werewolf with me that can help them better than I can.

As you can see, I’m at a crossroad. And I don’t know what to do.

I hope you can help me.






Dear Stiles,

I love you. And so do Diego, Lys and my brother. So we stand by you, whatever you do.

Follow your heart.

Yours, always,


PS: we are free of the pack, you don’t need to write the message in geoglyphic dude- Keith

PSPS: do what you must. We love you, Stiles. – your lover, Diego.

PSPSPS: you can sleep on the couch, ‘lover’ – Paula.




“Are you ready, Stiles?” asked him Cordelia, watching as the young spark and his pack locked the camper behind themselves.

The werewolf, Jackson, was sitting not too far from them in a posh looking Porsche, as he laughed and entertained little Bianca. She was particularly taken by him and his god awful Spanish accent.

Stiles took out a phone from his pocket and looked down at it for a second. “I just need to make a phone call.”




December - Allison's death

End December/beginning January - Stiles leaves Beacon Hills/accident happens



January - sheriff dies/comes back to life

February - Allison and Aiden come back to life/ Stiles and the twins live on the island

March - Stiles and the twins go to the witches

July - birth of Leia / death of Narcissa

July/August - Boyd and Erica come back to life/ Stiles joins the south american pack

August - Scott gives up Alpha Powers- Derek becomes Alpha of the Hale Pack

September - Cordelia comes back to Stiles

October - Stiles' birthday

December - Stiles leaves the Abano Pack



February - Laura comes back to life/ Stiles kills Kate Argent, becoming aware of his powers

June - Stiles meets Jackson and leaves South America; calls his father/ Hale Family reunited

Chapter Text

A very old werewolf tradition, was watching the full moon raise and fall with your family. There was something almost mystical about a pack of werewolves watching the sun disappear behind the horizon and the beautiful moon appearing behind a coat of clouds.

The Hales had been part of the romantic packs that actually did spend their free nights watching the moon come up and back down. Derek remembered how exciting it was, during the summer, or during the winter, when they had long days and nights just for them.

Derek’s dad, Theodore Hale, Peter’s wife, Silena Hale and his mother’s younger sister, Aspen Hale, would spend their entire day cooking together a real banquet; Derek, Cora, Laura would entertain Peter’s kids, Blossom and Jessamine, while Peter’s older son, Vale, pretentiously spent time with their mother, learning about being an Alpha.

If it hadn’t been for his green eyes and Peter-shaped-head, someone might have really wondered where the fuck did that conscientious boy even come from.

Blossom and Jessamine were only 5 when the fire happened.

Derek shook his head, stopping his mind from going down that particularly bad path. He took a look at his sisters, and smiled to himself.

Cora was riding shotgun next to him, her hair even longer than when he had dropped her off in South America. She had a couple of pink highlights in her hair- just like Laura had had at her age.

“You know, mom would have pulled her hair out if she had seen you.” He commented, breaking the silence in the car.

The younger Hale looked over at him with a smirk. “I think I look nice.”

Derek smiled at her and shook his head. “You look beautiful.” He said, sincerely. Cora smiled back at him, before arching an eyebrow in the rear-view seat.

“I do look great, but Laura… has made some questionable choices regarding her hair.”

“Says the one who looks like Aria Montgomery pre Alison’s disappearance.” Bitched their older sister, a hand going through her deep red hair. Derek was sure the sentence made sense somehow in their minds, but he couldn’t even see it with binoculars.

Cora snorted, a for a moment they all riveted in the company of one another, no need for any words. Derek was driving, ridiculous sunglasses that Laura bought him sitting on his head; Cora texting on her phone and humming to herself; Laura, watching the scenery of Beacon Hills, her fingers thrumming on the door.

“I missed this.” Said Cora, out of nowhere. She pulled down her own sunglasses, making it hard to see her eyes. “I missed us.”

Derek smiled at her, nodding. “I missed you two. So much.”

Laura smiled at them from the window, probably thinking they couldn’t see her, before clearing her throat. “Alright, enough of this nonsense. No feelings allowed, unless you want me to ugly cry because Derek now owns my beautiful Camaro.”

Her siblings shuddered, and she smiled smugly, putting up a song on the air system. “Come on, Cora, hit it. Hit it Fergie!”


Derek nearly swerved and hit a moving car, while Laura helped her up with her bars “I JUST WANNA SAY IT NOW – I AIN’T TRYING TO ROUND UP DRAMA, LITTLE MAMA, I DON’T WANNA TAKE YOUR MAN.”

Derek wanted to cry, but he was too busy laughing, really. Laura and Cora joined forces, grinning at him. “AND I KNOW I’M COMING OFF JUST A LITTLE BIT CONCEITED AND I KEEP ON REPEATINGG HOW THE BOYS WANNA EAT IT. BUT I’M TRYING TO TELL, THAT I CAN’T BE TREATED LIKE CLIENTELE, ‘CAUSE THE SAY SHE…”

They both stopped, staring at their brother with a smirk on their faces, and of course Derek, the sucker that he was, couldn’t help it. “Delicious”

“SO DELICIOUS” chorused the girls, and Derek even gained a little confidence as he sang too. “But I ain’t promiscuous and if you were suspicious all that shit is fictitious…”

They all sang in chorus the last lines of the song, all three of them red faced laughing as they tumbled out of the Camaro. Well, Cora and Laura were cackling like hyenas, while Derek was mostly just snorting and pretending to be above it all.

“Collect yourselves,” called the Alpha, rolling his eyes fondly. “The Sheriff wanted to show me something, and I suspect it has to do with… him.” He didn’t say Stiles’ name, but his shoulders still dropped a little bit.

Cora nodded, although clearly still amused as she walked inside the Stilinski residence. Laura hesitated, before putting a hand on her brother’s chest.

Derek’s eyes focused on her figure, so small and tiny in front of him.

Laura was his older sister. For all his life he had watched her with reverence and worshipped – along with Cora – the very ground she walked on. She had always been the bigger one of them two, basically forcing respect just from her figure.

Then he had turned 15 and slowly gotten taller than her. But still, she had always seemed bigger and he had just awkwardly followed her around like a scared little giant.

Now, standing there, with her red dyed hair, and those calm green eyes, Derek felt like he was looking at her for the first time. Like he was looking at the real Laura, a Laura who never worried about having to become Alpha, about being the older in the important Hale family and the one everyone expected stuff from.

She was just Laura Hale, his sister.

She smiled at him, even though she probably would have kicked his ass if she knew what he was thinking. “If you don’t even let yourself say his name, how are you ever going to be okay again? It’s a step by step process, big bro. Let yourself feel the pain, let yourself feel Stiles. Only then you’ll finally become to heal.”

With those wise older sister words, she walked inside, leaving Derek confused, surprised and slightly hopeful as he followed.

Those feelings all evaporated, leaving a deep worry when he noticed that, other than himself, Cora, Laura and the Sheriff, Allison, Lydia and Erica were also there.

The brunette looked anxious from the way she kept biting her lip, while Erica was huffing and puffing, in a pretence of complete lack of interest; Derek could however see the worry lines around her eyes.

Lydia’s expression was one of those he never was able to read, but it didn’t really matter, since Cora had taken one look at her and marched towards her, standing like a guard dog. Lydia’s face became less blank at that.

Laura glanced at everyone in the room, before turning to concentrate on the sheriff. “What is going on?”

Normally, formalities meant that the Alpha would be the first one to speak, but – now more than before – the Hale Pack had never been one for formalities.

The Sheriff looked tired, and grief stricken. Derek would have been worried, except there was a little hope in his eyes. Instead, he watched in confusion as the man didn’t answer, and clicked the voicemail button on his landline.

And Derek sucked in a breath, as that voice – his voice.

“Uhm, eh… voicemail. Okay, I can work with that.” A snort. “Hey dad. It’s me, Stiles. How- how are you? God, I should have worked this through in my head before grabbing the goddamn phone.” A beat of silence. “You know, I haven’t forgotten the number. Your number, or the house number. Even though it’s been almost- almost 2 years. Jesus. It’s been so long, dad, and I… I missed you. I am not sorry for leaving, but I’m sorry for how I did it.” A sigh. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for the wedding, or that you had to see me like that for so long.

But dad… I am finally happy. There is so much about myself that I didn’t know. So much that I’m learning and I’m so glad I am. I am standing on my own feet, doing something for myself for once and-”

A voice sounded from farther away, but still got caught on the voicemail. “TATA! Bianca is being mean!”

Stiles gave an aggravated sigh. “Dziewczyny, posłuchaj mnie!” he said, in what Derek could only guess was polish. “Queen B, can we play nice, please? Kochanie, tata is on the phone now, so give me a moment. Go play with Princess Leia, I bought strawberries for all of you.” Stiles stayed silent for a couple of more beats, while the sound of girls screaming and laughing played from over the phone.

His next words were so quiet they almost missed. “I found myself here, dad. And I will come back, one day, I promise. I… I love you dad.” He fell silent for a long second, before adding. “And tell the pack… Tell them I don’t hate them. I resent them, sure, and sometimes I’m still sad but… I would never hate them.”

Then the line went dead, and Stiles was gone.




 “You know, I’m usually all for pack bonding and all, but what exactly is this supposed to achieve?” questioned Allison, looking at where they were all standing outside the ex-Hale House. Or better, the remains of it.

Although she would never confess to it, she kind of felt really guilty, every time she looked at it. It brought back memories that she didn’t want to dwell on.

Lydia pursed her lips and almost shrugged, but her gaze was on the three Hale siblings standing in front of her. She was also aware of Peter standing not too far from them, smart enough to be careful around Laura.

“I think it’s supposed to be a growing experience or something.” Put in Erica. She shifted nervously under the other’s scrutiny and shrugged. “What? I heard Laura and Derek talking earlier.”

As per usual, it was Boyd who came out with the voice of reason. “They want to tear down the building.”

The betas looked alarmed for a moment, but then attempted uninterested looks when Derek turned down to face them one by one.

“Laura told me something, about a way to solve one of my problems, and I realised I could probably solve half of the problems in my life like that.” He gave his sister a grin that she was quick to return.

“All these years, I never once tried to truly move forward. Yes, I would tell people that I was doing it, I would show them that I had a new pack, a new house, but... those were only a front. How many times did you wake up, Isaac, and couldn’t find me?” he asked the blond beta.

The curly haired werewolf thought about it, and shrugged. “Honestly? More times than I can count.”

Derek nodded at this. “I was here. In this stupid house, hiding from the world and just inflicting more pain to myself.” He glanced at all of them. “I’ve never truly moved on. Always, this place was holding me on a tight leash- I am warning you, Lydia, don’t you dare laugh – and I just... couldn’t shake free.”

He seemed to be struggling with his words, so Laura came to stand next to him. “What Derek is trying to say is that this house, is the symbol of all his mistakes. At least in his opinion. And getting rid of it, it’s the first step towards him growing both psychologically and mentally.”

“So he’s going to tear it down.” Added Cora, coming to stand on his other side, a smile on her face. “Me and Laura agree, but he wanted to ask you guys to help too”. She shrugged. “He finds it poetic.”

Her brother rolled his eyes at her, before focusing back on the group of people in front of him.

Boyd, Scott, Isaac, Allison, Lydia and Erica. His pack. The new Hale Pack.

Erica was the first to move forward towards them, a rock steady in her hand. She punched Derek’s shoulder with a grin. “You gave me a family. Another chance at life. You gave me a future.” She nodded at him, before throwing the rock at one of the windows, the crash scaring a couple of birds in the distance.

Boyd moved next, stopping right next to his girlfriend. “Friends. You gave me a family, someone who would take care of me at all times.” Another rock thrown at house, this time breaking the fragile wooden walls.

“You saved me.” Isaac pressed a kiss on his Alpha’s temple. “If it hadn’t been for you, I… I don’t know what would have been of me. So, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.” He said, throwing another rock at the house.

Scott, Lydia and Allison stepped towards him at the same time, but it was the former Alpha who spoke. “And we want to thank you for giving us a second chance. Even after all we’ve done to you, all the pain we’ve inflicted… you still took us. And for this we can only thank you.” With that, he threw a rock at the door, the two girls following suit.

Derek moved forward, his sisters at his sides, and looked at the empty and burned out shell of the Hale House. His house, where he had lived for so long with his family…

Then he looked to his right to Cora, Laura, and the rest of the pack. His new family. His pack. With that he took a large breath and throw the biggest rock he could find against the house. The defeaning crash that came from it was almost satisfying to his ears. Almost.

Before he could spiral down his thoughts again, his sister gave him a smile, addressing the pack at once. “We did it, together. As a real pack.” she said, and the teenagers – almost adults now, really – gave each other a happy smile.

Erica snorted. “Even evil ice eyes zombie there was here for a moment, before disappearing.”

The pack erupted in laughter, but Laura looked confused. “Icy eyes? Are you talking of Peter?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.

The blonde werewolf rolled her eyes at her. “How many evil zombies you know?” she rolled her eyes. “Of course I’m talking about Peter.”

Laura’s eyebrows were furrowed. “Peter has green eyes.” She protested, blinking in confusion.

“I have enough nightmares about the dude to know that his eyes are blue.” Told her Lydia, crossing her arms around her chest.

The older werewolf shook her head resolutely. “Werewolves can’t change eye colour. And in our family there was no one with blue eyes. But there were two with green eyes that looked stuck between gold and blue.” She paused, knowing she had their attention. “One was Derek. And the other… was Peter.”

Boyd was the first one to understand what she was saying. “Are you saying that Peter Hale is gone?”

Laura’s eyes were bright like emeralds in the light. “I’m saying that, whoever that guy was that killed me, turned Scott and caused havoc in our lives… it was not my uncle Peter.”




Jackson was not as much of an asshole as he was while in Beacon Hills. He was striving to be the best he could, but the Lord was testing him.



God Fucking Almighty . Jackson slammed his laptop down and marched the hallway towards the big suite at the end. He opened the door with a barely concealed snarl, before blinking confused at the sight.

Both Bianca and Anastasia – which he still had trouble distinguishing – were jumping on the bed, in matching orange and purple dresses, and were holding hair brushes in their hands.

Leia was sitting nicely on a chair humming along to her sisters’ song, getting her hair brushed by Cordelia. The fae barely looked up when he came in, but Skyler let out a low growl to warn her nevertheless.

Jackson had the impression it knew he used to be an asshole to Stiles and wasn’t quite ready to forgive him. He turned to the fae, eyes narrowed. “I don’t know what is going on here – and to be honest, I don’t even care – but you are not alone in the house. I’m trying to study.” Okay so maybe he still had to work on the rudeness.

The fae arched and eyebrow and spoke without lifting her eyes from Leia. “Oh really?” she drawled, unimpressed.

Did Jackson ever mention how much of a pain in his ass she was? “Yes, really.” he said through gritted teeth.

One of the twins looked at Jackson with furrowed eyebrows. “But Wujec Jackson, you said you were going to babysit us tonight.” She reminded him, big bright eyes blinking at him.

The werewolf’s eye twitched. “I beg your pardon?”

The other girl crossed her arms around her chest. “He forgot, how great.” The sass was strong with this one. She was so Stiles’ daughter. “You promised tata and ciocia Cordelia that you wold look after us while they were talking to the emissary from your pack.”

Now that the girl said it, Jackson remembered making a vague promise of the sorts. Although at the time he thought he was finally allowing Stiles to go out and, you know, bone, not giving him a chance to do even more work out of the house. He sighed.

“I do remember actually.” He gave the twins a small smile. “I bet we’ll have fun together.”

Cordelia finished brushing Leia’s hair and walked up to him, a small piece of paper on her hand. “Their routine. You should know it by heart now, since we’ve lived here long enough, and Stiles said so, but I think better safe than sorry. Considering how certain beta wolves’ brains work.” She scoffed at him and whipped her hair in his face. It smelt like roses.

The fae smiled once she was face to face with the children and gave them a peck on the cheek each. “Right, be good girls. I’m going to go out now, if anything happens, you know how to get to me.” She said, and prepared to depart. Then she arched her eyebrow. “I don’t hate you, by the way. I don’t trust easily.” Then she did disappear.

Leaving Jackson alone with the three children. He clapped his hands and gave them his best child-friendly grin. “So… What do we want to do together?”

“Nothing with you!” answered one of the twins, crossing her tiny arms around her chest.

The other twin gave her a small shove. “Be nice, Bianca. We promised tata and ciocia.” She said sagely. God bless Anya.

“I don’t like him.” Expressed Leia, in a strange mixture of Spanish and polish with a distinct America accent. Honestly, there was no other way to describe what it was like hearing her ramble or explain something.

Jackson blinked at her. He wasn’t really hurt (HOW DARE SHE NOT LIKE ME!) by her statement, merely curios. He wasn’t about to ask her why she didn’t like him. Not at all. Not him.

“What are we going to have for lunch?” asked him the nicer twin, probably trying to distract him. It worked.

“What do you guys want to eat?” he retorted, opening the door and watching them leave one by one the room. It was just three children for an afternoon. Nothing too bad, right?


“QUIERO MI PADRE!” Wailed Leia, from where Jackson had put her down in time out. She had stopped throwing stuff at him, at least, but the crying hadn’t even wavered.

Anya was hidden under the table, and she was crying softly, while Bianca was stomping her feet and shouting about how much he sucked and how much she hated him. All because he said he didn’t have chicken sausages in his fridge.

They never behaved that way. He had watched them with Cordelia and Stiles plenty of times, and he had never seen Leia losing her shit like that, or Anya closing in on herself that way. Bianca had always been the only one to not have problems showing him how much she didn’t care for him. So he turned to her.

“Okay, can you stop screaming and tell me what have I done to make you hate me so much?” he asked her, sitting down on the chair.

Bianca stopped stomping her feet for a second before crossing her arms over her chest. “You are going to hurt my tata. And I don’t want anymore people hurting my tata!” she replied, and only then Jackson realised that under the anger and tears, he could smell the faint trace of bitterness. On a freaking 5 years old child.

He sunk down to his knees, so that he was face to face with the girl. “I would never hurt Stiles, Bianca. Sure, we might not have been best of friends in high school, but I care for him. He is… important, so to speak, to me.” He promised her.

The girl shook her head repeatedly. “You are just saying this! Everyone keeps leaving my tata and making him hurt, and he gets sad and tries to hide it but I know he’s sad. First Cordelia left and came back, and tia Paula and tio Diego and Leia’s mommy! They always leave him by himself and make daddy become lonely! I don’t want another-”

“Listen to my heart.” Said Jackson, facing the girl eye to eye. He knew that he was making a promise he probably wouldn’t be able to keep, but he needed to calm her down. “I have no interest in leaving your tata. He’s a… friend.” He said, realising how true the words were. “If he’ll have to leave me for some reason, then so be it. But I have no interest in hurting your father.”

The girl sniffed a little, looking at him in the eye and listening to his heartbeat, searching for a lie. But she couldn’t find any. Then she nodded.

Somehow, Jackson felt like he had just passed a test.


In a complete strange turn of events, after the first meltdown, the girls calmed down pretty easily. Leia surrendered to eat her chicken sausage pasta bake with no heart shaped sausages in them, and her sisters took turns helping her eat it.

The floor was a mess, but the girls were okay.

So he relaxed enough to sit down with them to watch Beauty and Beast (Stiles was obsessed with making sure they missed none of the classics he grew up with), and took a picture of them for Stiles. Bianca was singing along to some of the songs, Anya was sitting with her arms wrapped around her knees and Leia was between them, sucking her thumb and singing her own versions of the song.

So Jackson thought he could relax on the computer for a while. No big deal, right?


Because it was of course then that Cora Hale decided to call.

Just ignore her, Jackson. See, that wasn’t an option. One does not simply ignore Coraline Adelaide Hale. Especially since she might as well be his second best friend apart from Danny.

Last time he had ignored her she had flown over to London the very next day, without permission and glared him into submission. And with Stiles and his family there, he really wasn’t eager for that to happen again, especially just after gaining Bianca’s trust.

So he slowly arched the laptop away from them and clicked answer.

Cora’s face appeared on the screen, her hair a little wild from how much she ran  her hands through it and in a drastically different hairstyle than the one he was used to. He arched an eyebrow.

She glared.

He stared a little longer.

“Fuck off, Jackson, everyone says it suits me.” She said, crossing her arms around her chest.

The werewolf gave her a sneer. “Then they’re all lying to you.”

“Funny you would say that, Mr Lydia has grown since we last saw each other and she probably finally figured out she’s a lesbian. Because, for your information, she is very conflicted about your text message and not even bothered about me being here. Which means-”

“Okay, your ass needs to calm the fudge down.” Cora’s eyebrows shoot up at the word fudge, but Jackson didn’t give her a chance to speak. “I am her asshole boyfriend she hasn’t heard from in literal years, of course she’s confused.” He shook his head. “But trust me, she’s already sent me an e-mail instead of a text message and we been communicating ever since. And guess what the topic of our last interaction has been?”

The Hale just shrugged, puffing her fringe out of her face in annoyance. “How am I meant to know that?”

Jackson pinched the bridge of his nose. “It has been Cora Hale, and Cora Hale’s stupid haircut, and how infuriating Cora Hale’s smirk is, and how captivating her ass is, and how fucking gone she is on you.” He smirked at the speechless expression on the girl’s face. “Those were her words, not mine.”

Cora stared at him for a few seconds, torturing her fingers before speaking up. “Okay, that’s nice. But… what is she going to do about it? Is she going to do anything at all? Or is she like in the closet and afraid to come out?”

“Lydia in the closet?” Jackson snorted. “Nope. She hasn’t said anything for the same reason you haven’t said anything.” He stared in her eyes. “Fear of rejection.”

The girl opened her mouth to say something, an incredulous look on her face, but Jackson interrupted before she could start. “I know what you’re going to say, but bear in mind: this is Lydia Martin we are talking about. The same Lydia who knows the entire school is in love with her. The Lydia who doesn’t really need to try anything because she’s aware that she’s smart enough for any problem that comes her way. She’s practical and no nonsense, and likes things to be a certain way.

Now enter yourself? You are hot and cold, hard to read and harder to approach. You answer her back and stand up for yourself and Lydia has no fucking idea of how to take you. She doesn’t know how to get to know you and because of that… she’s nervous. She’s scared of reading you wrong. She’s scared that you might not be interested in her the way she is in you.” He finished.

The brunette girl stayed silent for a few seconds, and this time, Jackson didn’t speak up. He stayed silent too, waiting for her to process his words. When she spoke next, her voice was quieter than before. “What if she doesn’t- what if she thinks I’m messing with her? What if she doesn’t believe me or she isn’t as ready as she thinks?”

“Then – and I say this as probably Lydia’s closest friend – she doesn’t deserve you.” He said, not even thinking about it. “Then she is-”

“Jackson, is that a baby?” inquired Cora suddenly, looking at a point behind the wolf’s shoulder.

Jackson startled, suddenly remembering about Stiles’ children and turning around. Sure enough, one of the twins, probably Anya, was standing on a chair, trying to get the bread from the table. He cleared his throat, and the girl turned to look at him guiltily for a few seconds, before jumping off the chair and going back to the sofa.

Only once she was sitting nicely with her sisters, Jackson dared to turn back around to Cora. The girl looked curios.

“Who is she?” she asked, curios, trying to see if she could spot her again.

Jackson said the first thing that came out of his mouth. “One of my friend’s is out and he asked me if I could look after his kid for a day. And I did.”

Oh, boy.




Lydia was a saint for dealing with Stiles’ ass for so long . That’s what the spark decided, 3hrs in an impromptu – and unrequited – wooing session from one of the betas from Jackson’s pack.

Seriously, the girl was a hassle. He wasn’t quite sure what exactly she was, all he knew was that she wasn’t human nor a were.

He had gone to see emissary from Jackson’s new pack after Cordelia’s insistence – read: she threatened him in many different ways and didn’t leave him much of a choice- and he wasn’t impressed.

The woman was a 500 something old witch, who spoke with a posh English accent and cursed like a sailor. She wasn’t much of help about anything regarding spark powers or legends about Mercy, Justice and Vengeance, but she did have an immense library that she left to Stiles’ complete use.

The downside was that there was an emissary on training with her. A very pretty looking little thing, with pixie cut jet black hair and sparkling blue eyes who had decided that she was going to have sex with Stiles the moment she set eyes on him.

And just- no. It might have been literally years since the last time he got laid, but he was not going to just have a random hook-up with her. Or anyone else for that matter.

Paula and Keith had tried very valiantly to find him something/someone to fuck during his stay in South America with them, but he had never found the need or appreciation for it. The jerking off sessions while thinking of big hands, green eyes and triskelion tattoos were very much enough, no matter how much he hated them.

“I cannot wait to become a member of NASA so I can fund my own expedition to Uranus.” Said the girl, using the 10th pick up line in the 15 minutes span she had been following him.

Stiles had grown immune and didn’t even bother turning around to look at her.

She gave a sigh. “What do I have to do to get you to have sex with me?” she asked, looking at him with adoring eyes.

“How about turn into a 6ft something handsome leather clothed dude with kaleidoscopic eyes that range from hazel to blue, a mouth made for sin, an ass that won’t quit and a big dick?” asked a voice, a smirk audible in her voice.

Stiles glared at the new comer. “Fuck off, Cordelia.” He said, voice more annoyed that he intended it to be.

The fae arched an eyebrow at him for that, but Stiles ignored her walking further down the shelves of books. Even though they were very far back, they all looked very new and unused. There was also a weird smell in the air, almost like something was burning and the room seemed to get hotter the further back he went.

And it was really bothering Stiles.

He suddenly stopped and looked back to Cordelia and the other girl. “There is something wrong with this library.” He stated, looking between the two for confirmation.

Cordelia smirked, looking smug, while the other girl looked at him in surprise, so he must have been onto something.

He turned back around, looking at the books around him. He couldn’t put a finger on what exactly was bothering him about the books, but there was something… off about them.

His talisman was getting a little warmer too, which he considered a good sign of his intuition about the place they were in. he caught Cordelia’s knowing look, and something clicked in his head.

He took the talisman off his neck and the books and library completely changed around him.


The books around him were all burned and fuming around him, the smoke still coming off of them. The entire section of the library were the books had looked new and shiny before were full of burned pieces and the smell of rotting wood and paper. And, standing before him on a dark surface, was a painting.

The painting containing three big figures on it, one standing in the middle and two other standing at the extremes.

The first figure was one of a woman with fair hair and a bandage covering the eyes. It was holding a scale in its left hand and sword in the right one. The sword was a black brilliant blade with three golden incision on it. It was beautiful, if not for the fact that the bottom of the sword was covered in what could only be blood red. You could almost smell it.

The third figure was a pale looking figure with bright red hair and a smile on its lips. It was holding a huge axe over its shoulder and wearing a simple white dress. The most alarming thing of the painting was, however, the eyes. They were black pools of nothingness that gave the picture something sinister and evil to it.

The middle figure was harder to see, as it was basically hiding itself in the way it was cowering. It’s hair was pitch black, but what you could easily see was what it was hiding. In it’s arms, almost hidden from view, was a depiction of Earth.

Stiles tilted his head. The first figure and the third were staring at the middle one without an inch of pity, while the middle one tried so hard to protect what she had.

Justice. Mercy. Vengeance.


“Vengeance was here.” Said Stiles abruptly, carefully putting the necklace back on. Cordelia was nodding, looking serious now, while the chick from before was staring at him in shock. He ignored. “He burned down this place to hide it from me, but I now know where we have to go. She has the arms.” He looked at the fae in the eye. “We have to pay Mercy a visit.”




“Reyes? Reyes. Erica?” the blonde werewolf looked up suddenly, eyes focusing on what was going on before her.

Lydia was staring at her with that calculating look in her eyes, while Allison and Isaac looked a little worried. Cora, Boyd and Derek were out running, while Scott and Laura were still at work.

“Are you okay?” asked Allison, worry clear in her face. “We called your name like three times and you didn’t answer.”

Erica gave her a small smile. “Sorry, just thinking about work. What were we talking about?”

Isaac stared at her in the eye, narrowing his own, obviously hearing the little stutter of her heart at the lie. But he didn’t comment on it, and for that, Erica was immensely glad.

The banshee sighed and crossed her arms. “We still haven’t found were Peter is hiding. And according to the reports from Eichen House, Peter did have green eyes when he was admitted.” She told them.

“So we can infer that the person who bit Lydia was not actually Peter Hale but someone… pretending?” Allison wasn’t the only person in the room who was shocked by the sudden discovery. “I mean, why rule out that somehow Peter changed eye colour or put contacts on? Why would anyone pretend to be Peter just to kill and hurt other people? And then just keep on pretending to be him even after? It just doesn’t make sense.”

Isaac snorted. “Does anything that has ever happened in Beacon Hills ever make any sense?”

Erica snickered too, shaking her head, before turning serious again. “The real question is, who is this psycho and where is the real Peter Hale? Have we found anything on shapeshifters?”

The huntress huffed, popping a cherry in her mouth. “We found a lot on shapeshifters, but none of them are supposedly living in this area.”

Lydia made a face at that. “As if that has ever stopped supernatural creatures from targeting us before.”

Suddenly Erica’s face turned chalk white and that was the only warning they got before the she-wolf all but ran towards the toilet. They didn’t even have time to question anything before the tell-tale sound of retching came to their ears, and Isaac had disappeared to the toilet in seconds, the other two girls behind him.

They found the blonde werewolf bent over the toilet, face as white as the seat as she threw up again.

Lydia and Allison exchanged worried looks, but Isaac went to stand next to her, holding up her hair as she emptied her stomach in there. He looked up at the other girls only to mouth ‘I got her’ to them, and turn his attention to Erica.

As quietly as they could, Allison and Lydia left the room.


When the werewolves finally came out of the bathroom, both girls had disappeared leaving a small note on the table.

Isaac helped Erica to sit back on the sofa before picking it up.

Cora got something and called Lydia to help. I’m dropping her off and then going to get Boyd and bringing him. Call me if we need to get Deaton too, it might be a supernatural illness or something.

Love Allison

He arched an eyebrow at that and gave Erica a conspiring look as he sat down, handing her the small note. “Cora and Lydia, sitting on a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G…”

The girl rolled her eyes at him, before putting her head down on his shoulder. “What do you know, Isaac?” she asked him, after a few seconds of silence.

“You’ve been throwing up for a couple of days now. You look nervous and tired all the time. Your scent is kind of getting sweeter, but definitely different. And, whatever you have, you’ve been hiding it from Boyd.” He listed off, counting off his fingers. “And from Derek. Well, from everyone really, but especially from Boyd and Derek.”

Erica squeezed his arm. “Okay, mister detective wannabe, you got me. What is your conclusion?”

Isaac snorted. “I have no idea what’s up with you, but it something that might change things with Boyd, which scares you, and it’s also something that Derek would probably guess immediately because he’s a born wolf and-” he stopped abruptly and moved, grabbing Erica by the shoulders and staring at her in shock. “No way.”

The werewolf shrugged, avoiding his eye. “Way.”

“How long?” he asked, still looking incredulous.

“Almost 9 weeks according to my test results.” She answered, now blushing slightly.


Erica looked at him in surprise. “Are you crying?” she asked, blinking quickly.

The other wolf tried to wipe away his tears. “Well, you are my best friend, of course I’m crying. I’m so happy for you, you are going to be so amazing.”

Erica’s let herself cry then, hugging him tightly. “I was so worried of what everyone would think, of what Boyd would say and I was so scared when I found out, Isaac. I don’t even know how it happened, but I’m so happy yet so fucking scared.” She sobbed, uncaring of the wet patch the other wolf was leaving on her shoulder. She was basically returning the favour anyway.

Isaac let her go so he could wipe his tears and shook his head. “Are you crazy? Boyd loves you immensely, he would get you the moon if you asked.”

“I would, but what does that have to do with anything and why is my girlfriend crying, Isaac?” asked a voice, as Boyd walked in the room, looking between the two teary blonds in confusion.

The girl looked at Isaac, who just nodded at her before turning her eye on Boyd. She picked up her bag and rummaged through it for a few seconds, before finding what she was looking for.

Her boyfriend stared at her in confusion as she walked up to him. “Close your eyes and give me your hand.” She said, which he complied immediately.

She left something cold in his hands and said, with a shaky voice “Now open them. Congratulations.”

Boyd opened his eyes and looked down at his hand at the object which he first thought was a thermometer. Only it wasn’t, and instead of a number, it had two pink lines staring at him. Which meant-

He looked up at Erica, who’s lip was trembling a bit and asked. “You are pregnant?”

The girl gave him a teary smile. “You’re going to be a dad, Boyd.” She said, voice breaking at dad.

That was all it took for him to give her the biggest smile possible and lifting her up in his arms. “Erica! We’re going to be parents?!?”

The girl had finally given up the pretences, and was crying. “We’re going to be parents, together.” She turned to look at Isaac who was standing a little apart, with tears down his cheeks too and rolled her eyes at him. “Isaac! Bring it in, future godfather.”

The werewolf looked at the couple in shock. Boyd wiped some tears from his face and beckoned him in. “As if we’d have anyone else.”

“I love you guys! You’re going to be the best parents ever!” he declared, joining in the group hug.




“Last time we spoke about this you didn’t seem this convinced. What changed?” asked Cordelia as they walked inside the Whittemore residence.

Stiles gave her a considering look. “I thought you said that you are able to read me easy.” The fae didn’t bat an eyelash, and Stiles shrugged. “It occurred to me that I’ve been running a lot this last few months. Running from the pack, from my past, from justice and Vengeance, from everything. And that is not who I am. I didn’t use to run away from stuff. I used to stand and fight for who I was and what I believed. And I’m not about to stop. I am my mother’s son and my mom believes in me. I might not be ready to face the pack, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to be running away from them.

If I am running, is running towards my destiny and making this place safer for my family. And if that means finding Mercy and having to fight Vengeance then I will.”

Cordelia smile was radiant and illuminating her whole face. She stopped with him in front of the girl’s room and studied his face for a few seconds, before standing on her toes and planting a soft kiss on his cheek. “I am proud of you.”

Stiles smiled back at her and took her hand in his. “And if you are up to it, I want you by my side when I have to face my destiny.”

The fae smirked. “Where else would I be?” she asked him, opening the door to the squeals of Anya and Bianca, Leia’s sleeping figure and Jackson… make up filled face?




“I don’t like this.” Said Derek for probably the tenth time in the past couple of hours.

“I don’t care.” Answered Cora, looking down at her nails without sparing a glance at her older brother and Alpha.

The werewolf looked at the road. “Maybe we could still turn around and-”

“If you dare, I will cut off your balls and feed them to you.” Said Lydia amiably as she fixed up her make up in the mirror.

“And, from what your sister said, I am supposed to help her if you even think about it.” Chimed in Parrish with a sorry-not-sorry shrug.

Derek gave him the stink eye and shook his head. “With what we found that about Peter possibly not being Peter, we need to try our best to find out where my uncle is and why did someone pretend to be him in the first place. We should all be in Beacon Hills!”

Cora rolled her eyes. “You can say it how many times you want, and this car will still continue on its route to the convention.”

“Tell me a little about the convention.” Interrupted Lydia, moving forward in her seat and looking between the two siblings. “I didn’t catch much about it, except that Laura is disappointed you didn’t keep going after she died.” She said, pretty bluntly.

Cora arched an eyebrow at her. “You didn’t catch much because no one told you much.” Lydia glared at her, but didn’t interrupt. “This convention is where werewolf packs meet, every now and then, to talk to each other about things happening in their territory, hunters to be wary off, creatures that have changed allegiances-”

“Creatures that have changed allegiances?” the red head and Parrish looked at her in confusion.

Derek answered this. “Sometimes, some new generations of hunters come around with new ideas and stuff. They decide that some supernatural creatures are better than others. For example, they might decide that succubi are better than werewolves. Then they’d try to attack weres and tell succubi to give out their hiding places in exchange of freedom. Then succubi would kind of become enemies of wolves. In this sort of convention this would be discussed, to help protect us wolves. That sort of thing.”

His sister smiled. “Good job Lydia, pretending not to know. He didn’t even realise we got here.” She said, exchanging a high five with the girl. Derek looked them both in betrayal, but didn’t have much choice other than stopping his car in the parking lot.


At first you wouldn’t have thought that it was that much. A big room that looked like an old Versailles ballroom, almost completely empty. The chandeliers around the room were big and old looking, and the entire place gave a sense of having stepped in the past.

The first thing Lydia noticed, was the dust piling up everywhere. The little furniture around the room was covered in old white sheets, which where well overdue their due date. The entire room smelled off, and there was a strange smell in the air that made her feel out of place.

Cora snapped her fingers. “Wake up, sleeping beauty. Don’t let the protective spells throw you off, we are in the right place.”

Sure enough, once she blinked, the entire place changed. It was like looking at it with new eyes.

They were in the reception of a bigger place than it looked from outside. Derek was standing next to a table with a petite looking man sitting there, looking bored. His skin was blue and almost translucent, and Lydia recognised him from one of the book she stole from Deaton a while back: it was a kelpie.

Even though the kelpie stood out more because of how close she was, she was far from the only person there. The place was packed. There were tons of big round tables scattered around the room, with more chairs than necessary around them and pretty flowers at the centre of each.

The stage was a beautiful mahogany with a big desk sitting on it and five occupied chairs. On the left side there was a beautiful piano sitting there, untouched and at the bag a huge banner welcomed you to the Werewolves Convention.

And the people. There were people of all different ethnicities and supernatural statuses around. Lydia wouldn’t have been able to recognise what half of them were, but she had been there a few minutes and she had already spotted a kelpie, some faeries, a werecoyote, a pack of foxes and some witches.

“Can I have your invitation and name of pack?” asked the kelpie, chewing down his gum while he typed on his computer. His tag said his name was Owen and that he’d be the receptionist today.

Derek passed down a small piece of paper that Laura had intercepted god knows how and straightened out his posture. “Hale Pack. Beacon Hills, California.”

The kelpie’s eyes widened out for a moment, but he didn’t make any comments, typing down. “Names and species?” at the look Cora gave him, he immediately explained. “The board wants to know in case they need to make a census of the typical packs and-”

“Excuse my sister. It’s fine.” Grounded out Derek, rolling his eyes slightly. “Derek Hale, Alpha werewolf. Cora Hale,” he pointed at his sister, “beta werewolf. Lydia Martin,” the red headed gave a small nod, “banshee. And Jordan Parrish, human.”

Lydia quirked an eyebrow. “Put down unidentified. He’s not human, but we don’t know what he is yet.” She said easily, almost rolling her eyes at Derek and Cora’s face.

Parrish shrugged. “I am not even surprised. I mean I have a weird relationship with dead bodies, and not in negrophilic way.”

The kelpie looked at Derek, who just nodded, and then typed down the information. “Thank you, that’s all.” Said Owen. “Here’s your leaflet for the day. If you decide that you want to stay for the two days, please contact Joey from accommodation.” He pointed at a small werewolf sitting a few metres away from him, who waved back immediately.

Then, because he apparently couldn’t hold it in anymore, he spoke up. “Is it true that your pack battled an Alpha Pack and won?”

All four of them looked surprised that people knew about that. Cora smirked a little. “I guess we are kind of famous.” She guessed.

Owen’s eyes went even larger. “Kind of? Derek Hale was left without a pack after an attack from hunters and then went back and reclaimed his birth right. You battled a rogue alpha and took him down, a banshee rose among your flanks, a kanima attacked you and you not only won, but also brought his humanity back, you won a fight against an alpha pack, a true alpha werewolf rose among you, you destroyed the nogitsune and saved your town multiple times. We’ve been waiting for your pack to come back for years.” He looked at them almost reverently. “You’re legendary.

Derek looked uncomfortable at that, while Lydia smiled, all teeth. “Always nice to be appreciated.”

Jordan snorted at that, before turning his attention on the booklet he was given by them. There were an amount of different activities and conferences he could attend. The first one was going to start in an hour, and was a presentation with the ‘board’. Whatever that meant; he was more interested in when the refreshments and food was going to be served.

It took him a minute to finally look up and realise that the rest of the pack had already moved. Bunch of assholes, the lot of them. He had noticed a workshop that he absolutely wanted to participate in, called supernatural creatures and how to recognise them. Maybe, if he was lucky he would babe able to finally find out why the fuck he was always to find any dead body in Beacon Hills without even realising it.

“Escuse me, officer?” asked a little voice then, snapping Jordan out of his forlorn mood. He looked down and saw a little boy, looking up at him seriously, a hand on the badge on his belt. He wore that thing so damn often he had started forgetting to take it off now. “I can’ fin my mama, and she sai tha when I can’ find her, I need to fin an officer.”

He crouched down to be at eye level with the child and gave him a small smile. “Your mom is a very smart person. What is your name? I am deputy Parrish.”

The boy gave him a smile, showing off the most adorable dimples. “I’m Lysandre, bu you can call me Lys.” he answered, stretching out his hand to grab the elder’s.

Jordan had just time to shake it with a smile, before a man came striding towards them a worried expression easing into relief and suspicion when he saw the little boy and him. “Oh thank god, Lysandre. Where did you go?!”

The man was tall, almost as tall as Parrish himself, with short brown her styled on top of his head, witch cheekbones sharper than a swiss knife. His eyes were almost gray and he looked very young despite his intimidating body language.

The little boy didn’t really look much like him, with his chocolate skin and curly hair. However, he gave him a sunny smile and pointed at Parrish. “I go los and I foun an officer to help me, jus like mama sai.” He said proudly, poiting at where Jordan’s badge was.

The man relaxed slightly, arching an eyebrow. “A police officer?” he questioned, tilting his head to the side.

“Deputy Parrish, of the Beacon Hills Department.” He explained, nodding slightly at him. The other man’s eye twitched when Jordan mentioned Beacon Hills, but the older man guessed that he should probably get used to that. “Are you the father of this boy?”

The man gave a nod. “Yes, Diego Diaz of the Alvarez Pack. Nice to meet you.” He glanced at his little boy then looked at him strangely for a moment. “Is the rest of your pack here?”

“Just my Alpha, Derek Hale and two others.” He said. Diego’s face did that funny little twitch again, and then he smile amicably.

“Thanks for finding my Lys. God knows what his mother would have done to me if I lost him.” He nodded at him. “See you around, Jordan.”

It would later occur to Jordan that he had never actually said his name to Diego.


“Tienes que tomar fotos de todo?” asked Paula, exasperation creeping in her tone as she watched her brother taking a picture of the table they were sitting at. Seriously. There wasn’t even anything on the table.

“It’s for the culture, Paulita.” Answered Keith, mimicking her tone of voice with a mocking smile. “What if something happens and there is no evidence, except that they find out I took pictures throughout the event and that becomes the proof to destroy the alibi of the least suspected amongst the people at the board?”

Paula blinked at him. “You need to stop reading those books. They fill your head with mierda.”

“Speaking of poop,” said Diego’s voice, as the man appeared at the table, holding hands with Lys. The little boy let go of him the moment he saw his mother, jumping straight into her lap. “You’ll never guess who is here.”

“Stiles?” asked Paula, voice hopeful.

Diego shook his head. “No, but you got pretty fudging close.” Both siblings stared at him curiously waiting for him to continue. Diego smirked. “I just saw Jordan Parrish of the Beacon Hills Police Department.” He nodded at the twin surprise on their faces. “Yup. The Hale Pack is here. Well, some of them at least.”

Keith finally put down his camera. “Did you punch any of them?”

“Don’t be stupid, Keith. I would never.” He assured them. Paula stared at him. He huffed. “Lys was there.”

Satisfied the girl nodded. “Good. The last thing we need, as a settling in pack is getting in a fight with one of the most popular in North America. No matter how much we love Stiles.”

Suddenly Diego stood up, carefully pointing at a man in the distance. “That’s the man! That’s the deputy.”

Paula looked over at the small group of four Diego was pointing at. There was the guy who he just pointed at, Parrish. Then there were two girls, one with fiery red hair and one with brown hair. Which made the last guy sitting next to the red haired “- and that’s Derek Hale.”

Derek Hale looked different than Paula had expected, and yet she would have guessed who it was even before Diego pointed out which man was Jordan Parrish.

He was alternating between looking fondly at the three members of his pack, looking at the contents of the day and glancing around him in suspicion. His eyes were impossible to appreciate from such a distance, and Paula wasn’t sure whether they were blue, green or brown.

What she wanted, from the deepest of her heart, was fight them. Truly. She wanted to throw all the suffering they put Stiles through back at them, but she knew she couldn’t. because even at his worst, even when he hated them the most, Stiles would have never left them t die. Stiles would have come back for them the same way he’d come back for the Alvarez pack, and she loved him too much to risk hurting the Hale pack.

“We need to ignore them. To let them go.” She decided, sighing deeply and turning to face the front. Diego and Keith started to disagree, and Paula shook her head. “Not for their sake or for ours. For Stiles. He wouldn’t want that.”

The two boys quietened down and nodded meekly at them. Diego went as far as saying that she was right, and Paula looked at him weirdly. Her boyfriend wasn’t big on admitting he fucked up. She needed to keep an eye on him.


Lydia Martin wasn’t one to give up. She had been in her fair amount of battles, and had always come out on top or victorious one way or another. And yet here she was, almost sweating by how much this particular battle was draining out of her. She could see Cora on the background looking at her with something like worry in her face – which she was secretly pleased about – and Parrish looking torn between admiration and dislike for the man that was making her sweat like that.

The man in question glanced at her, with a smirk on his face almost taunting her. “You okay sweetheart?” he asked her feigning concern.

She ground her teeth together and turned to face the guy who was asking the questions and nodded. She hadn’t studied all the books Deaton had given her and more to be beaten like that.

When Parrish had asked about the workshop she had immediately agreed to join him. What they both hadn’t expected was for the guy from the day before to show up there too, with a smirk on his face.

Jordan had asked him how he knew what he knew his name and he had said that he would only tell them if Lydia Martin beat him at a quiz. Parrish had started wondering how he knew Lydia’s name, but the girl had accepted, never one to give up on a fight.

Except now, he was wiping the floor with her in a quiz about supernatural creatures.

A werewolf from another pack had decided to play moderator and ask questions which Lydia did not always have the answer to. Meanwhile the other man, who was oh so clearly human kept guessing correctly, and then giving her these fake sweet smiles. He was infuriating.

“This is a supernatural creature who guards the door between living and dead, for the supernatural world. They are linked to the Nemeton and can turn themselves on fire. What’s the name?” asked the mediator.

Lydia froze, turning to look at Diego. He couldn’t have known this question was going to be asked. He couldn’t have- No one had ever played her like that other than-

The guy smirked looking at Lydia straight in the eye. “A hellhound.” He said with a small bow directed to Cora and Parrish.

No one other than- “Stiles.” She whispered, incredulous, staring at Diego. “You know Stiles, don’t you?”

Diego just smiled, and walked out of the door.




“So now, Cora knows who Anya is?” asked Stiles, his face a complete poker.

After a few minutes of being in the house, he couldn’t help but notice the scared looks Jackson was sending his way, and less than an hour later, the boy was confessing his sins to him.

Jackson swallowed. “Doesn’t know who Anya is, but knows what she looks like. And its Christmas soon, so that means that when she comes over, she’s going to want to see her or something. But she doesn’t know she’s your daughter.” He explained.

Stiles nodded to himself a couple of time. “That’s fine.” He decided, getting ready to walk back in the room.

The werewolf grabbed his arm before he could move, puzzled. “What? You’re not mad? Cora might recognise your scent on the children and put two and two together. Then you’d have the entire pack rushing here and stuff.”

The brunette studied him for a second. “Jackson… is this your way of trying to protect me? Have you been keeping the pack away for me?

“I’ve changed, you know?” spat out the other, although his cheeks were pinking slightly. “You don’t want to see them, and I respect that.” He looked at him seriously. “And I’ve made a promise to Bianca.”

Stiles looked at him for a while longer then smiled. “Thank you for having my back.” He said, gently punching him on the shoulder. “You’re alright.”


Stiles left one week before Christmas.

Cordelia was at his side the moment he closed Jackson’s door behind him. Bianca had given the werewolf the biggest and warmest hug she could. “Thank you for having us, Wujec Jackson.” It was the first time she had ever called him uncle. Jackson did not cry. Shut up.

“Where are you heading?” asked him the werewolf, absently fixing up Leia’s coat for her. The little girl huffed a little, but didn’t push him off.

Stiles shrugged. “We don’t know yet. All that we’ve figured out is that we are headed south east.” He fondled with his chain as he spoke, a habit he had picked up in the weeks they had stayed together. “And after that… somewhere cold. We might even come back, I don’t know.”

The werewolf nodded at him. “See you soon, then.” He said, stretching out his arm for a handshake.

Stiles hesitated. “Actually, could you…” he took out a picture from his pocket and handed it to him. It was of him, the twins, Leia and Cordelia sitting together on a couch. Stiles was sitting in the middle, with the youngest sitting on his lap, both of them grinning at the camera. Bianca was looking at a camera with a big smile, her missing tooth proudly in display, while Anya was blowing a kiss at the camera.

Cordelia was standing at the bag a smirk on her face even though her eyes were clearly smiling. It was pretty cute.

“I made copies.” He said, producing two more identical picture. “One is for my dad. One is for the pack.” He licked his lips. “And one is for you. If you want it. Which you probably don’t and I get it, it’s fine. You don’t have to keep it or anything-” Jackson could have closed his eyes and it would have been like he was still a teenager talking to teenager Stiles.

“Your jumper is ugly in this picture.” He said. “It will help keep the spirits away from my house. I better hung it up somewhere where everyone can see it.” He decided.

The other man smiled now, opening his arms in a hug. “You’re welcome, asshat.” He whispered, holding him tight against him. Then he stepped back and saluted, before grabbing Bianca and Leia’s hand. “See you soon.”

And then the Stilinski clan disappeared in a cloud of smoke, leaving Jackson with three pictures and an empty house.




“I can’t believe we didn’t put two and two together quicker.” Grumbled Cora, walking with the rest of the pack towards their room. It was finally time to leave the convention and they hadn’t found anything more about Diego and his pack. They had just disappeared into thin air.

“That that guy knew Stiles or that Jordan was a hellhound?” asked Derek, equally upset. The only person who didn’t seem very bothered was Parrish himself, but, after all, he had now an explanation on what was going on with him.

Lydia nodded. “At least something good came out of this convention.” She sighed, opening the door to their room.

And promptly dropping her keys on the floor when she saw what was waiting in there.

Sitting down on one of the beds, hands tied together and mouth wrapped shut was no one else than Peter motherfucking Hale.



December - Allison's death

End December/beginning January - Stiles leaves Beacon Hills/accident happens



January - sheriff dies/comes back to life

February - Allison and Aiden come back to life/ Stiles and the twins live on the island

March - Stiles and the twins go to the witches

July - birth of Leia 

July/August - Boyd and Erica come back to life/ Stiles joins the south american pack

August - Scott gives up Alpha Powers- Derek becomes Alpha of the Hale Pack

September - Cordelia comes back to Stiles

October - Stiles' birthday

December - Stiles leaves the Abano Pack



February - Laura comes back to life/ Stiles kills Kate Argent, becoming aware of his powers

June - Stiles meets Jackson and leaves South America; calls his father/ Hale Family reunited

November- Hale Pack realises Peter Hale is not who they thought he was/ Erica Reyes is two months pregnant

December - Stiles leaves the UK and heads towards East Europe/ Hale Pack finds Peter Hale.


Chapter Text


Laura Hale had imagined tons of times how this would go. She had fantasized about what she would do, about how he would react and everything she’d say.

This being her meeting with Peter Hale, for the first time since she had come back to life.

She had expected a sneer, or even disgust at finding her alive. Something to show her that yes, her sociopathic uncle had murdered her in cold blood just for her Alpha power, that he had killed one of the only two other survivors of the fire, just like that.

Instead what she got was a look of euphoria and happiness that made her heart clench uncomfortably. Because, no one was that good of an actor, not even Peter Hale.

He stood there, drinking the sight of her and Laura didn’t know what to think.

“Laura.” He whispered, finally, and she was back there. Back to that day when her whole life turned upside down.


“Stop judging me.” Said Laura, glaring at where her little brother and Peter were looking at her, arched eyebrows and everything. It was unnerving how similar they looked to each other, like they were brothers and not uncle and nephew.

Peter gave her a look. “Oh, we’re not judging you, Laura.” He said earnestly. “We’re very happy for you.”

Derek said nothing, glaring at the ground. Peter nudged him. “Aren’t you happy that Camden Lahey and your sister are finally going on a date?”

Laura narrowed her eyes at him. “What do you mean finally?”

“I mean, everyone in the school got tired of you two eye fucking every time you get a chance.” Laura growled at him, but Peter didn’t let it deter him. “’When will the captain of the soft ball team and the hottest guy from lacrosse finally date?’. That is the question that I have to face with everyday.”

This time the younger Hale looked up at him, frowning slightly. “You don’t even go to high school. Your oldest son doesn’t even go to our high school.”

“And yet, I know of them!” exclaimed the other man, like Derek had just proven his point. “I mean even Ms Stilinski has asked me if you two were dating, and she’s not even pack.”

Laura grumbled something under her breath, making Peter laugh. The older wolf gave her a more genuine smile. “Hey, Laura. We are happy for you. It might have taken you literal years but you too have finally met your perfect match.”

He would have said something more, probably taunted her a little more if they hadn’t heard the noise, if they hadn’t smelt the smoke. If they hadn’t stepped away from the trees and came face to face with their house, their home, being devoured by flames.

“No-” let out Derek, staring at the house in disbelief. “MOM! CORA! DAD!” He made to run towards them, run through the fire when Peter grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. “Let go of me, Peter! Let me go, NOW!”

Laura was frozen where she stood. All she could hear was the roaring of the flames and the awful smell of smoke and skin, and the screams… of god, it was agonizing. She couldn’t even figure out how she hadn’t felt it before through the pack bond. Her lip trembled in fear and all she could do was stare at the house, hoping that something… anything… would tell her what to do. Her claws kept coming in and out, her eyes shifting golden in fear and pain.

That’s when Peter slapped her.

At first, she barely registered the pain, with the way her entire body had gone numb. But then her uncle came in her field of vision, shouting something at her. It took her a few seconds to hear him over the sounds of the roaring flames.

“You and Derek… police… sheriff… fire brigade… Blossom and Vale… GO NOW!”

Somehow, she started moving, mostly thanks to Derek grabbing her hand and pulling her along. She barely had time to see Peter going down the tunnels to save the rest of the family before her and her brother were running, feet barely touching the leaves.

“Come on Laura, come on!”

It wasn’t a long run from their house to the police station. 5 minutes tops. They could have made it.

But then Laura felt her throat closing up and her body shaking as she fell forward in the grass. Her brother was yelling, asking her to get up, telling her she needed to move, but she couldn’t. All she could do was stare at her fingers in horrors, at the claws coming out, bigger than usual.

And she knew, she knew before looking up and meeting her brother’s eye, she knew before Derek’s mouth closed in shock, she knew before his eyes filled up with tears.

She knew her brother was staring into alpha red eyes.

She knew her mother was dead.


“If you truly are Peter, tell me. What did you tell me that day?” asked Laura, looking into the older male’s eyes. She didn’t want to risk it, not again. She needed him to be real.

Peter gave her a look. “I came to pick you and Derek up from school, and we talked about that guy you were crushing on, Camden.” Isaac visibly startled at that, but Peter didn’t seem to notice. “After I picked you up, we went to get Derek and I said to you: You are doing a great job taking care of everyone. You are so young and yet you’ve already found your mate. You’re going to be the best goddamn Alpha Beacon Hills and North America has ever s-” he didn’t get to finish the sentence.

Laura was on him, both arms wrapped up around his neck and tears, tears she had promised she would not shed after coming back to life, were pouring out of her eyes. “Uncle Peter.” She sobbed, holding the man so tight that if he’d been a human, he’d have died.

The werewolf would have returned the hug hadn’t it been for the handcuffs that Lydia had placed on him the moment they had decided he would make the trip to Beacon Hills with them. She had recoiled from him for the entire trip, even with Cora sitting between the two of them, but it was more muscle memory to be honest. She had looked into his eyes – identical to Derek’s – and she had felt his energy. That feeling of dread that had followed Peter Hale ever since he came back to life was completely gone.

But it just didn’t make any sense. Why would anyone pretend to be Peter for so long, going to the point of dying and coming back to life? If they had even actually died in the first place? Killing his niece for no reason? It just didn’t make sense.

Even Derek seemed off as he stared at his uncle, and Lydia could understand him. First his betas came back from the dead, then his sister, and now it turned out that his uncle wasn’t as evil as everyone thought? It was like the scale was finally evening out and it was a lot to wrap one’s head around.

Laura finally let go of her uncle, still looking at him with tears running down her cheeks. “But then, if it’s really you, and you didn’t try to kill me… then what happened really, uncle Peter?”


Once everyone was sat around the living room, Peter put down the steaming mug of coffee on the table, flexing his wrists a little. Cora and Derek were sitting the farthest away from him, Lydia sitting in between them, her head on Cora’s shoulder.

The betas were all over the living room, with Laura sitting next to him, the only one who looked like she trusted him at all. He sighed, and started talking.

“After sending you guys away, I noticed what could only be mountain ash around the house, which was the reason no one had managed to get out and the reason we didn’t feel them dying through the pack bond. So I ran as fast as I could and tried to use the tunnels to get in. And maybe, had I been a little stronger, a little faster, I could have.” he looked up from his mug, shaking his head. “Jessamine, Cora and Vale were on the other side, you know? The other side of the door. I think by then, Blossom was already dead.” Cora swallowed nervously, and Lydia grabbed her hand in hers. “I watched them die, right in front of me. Watched Vale trying to cover Jessamine and Cora as much as he could, watched him using his body to save them from the fire.

But then something happened, something that wasn’t supposed to happen. Like literal magic, the mountain ash was gone, and the door bursted open, like it literally exploded. By that time, both Jessie and Vale were dead, but Cora was alive – barely, but alive. I remember screaming at her to run as fast as she could, and then going inside with the intent of finding Talia and the rest. But I never made it, because my children… how could I move, when my children where both dead in front of me?”

He took a gulp of the scalding liquid, ignoring the tears in his eyes at the image of his dead children forever embedded in his mind. “I never knew if Cora had made it or not. Next thing I remember was waking up in a hospital room and being unable to move, to turn, to talk, to hear. I could see Laura and Derek crying over my bed, but I couldn’t hear them, I couldn’t comfort them.

They came by a couple of times, and then they stopped coming altogether. I could feel the pack bond, but not as strongly. And then,” he paused, looking nervous. “Then a woman started coming by. She was beautiful yes, but almost terrifyingly so. Her skin was white like snow, and her hair dark like ebony sometimes, and red like fire some others. She looked so perfect, and every day she came by, something in me changed.

At first I started being able to move my fingers, then opening and closing my mouth. Things like that, until I was able to hear and speak again. I remember asking her name and why was she visit, and she never answered me. The one thing she told me was to never let the doctors know that I was better, and I listened.

Until the day I was able to walk. That day she came in with her fiery red hair, and kidnapped me. I don’t know why, nor do I really remember how long she kept me hidden away from the world. She never really spoke to me, always kept me locked in a stupid dungeon. I couldn’t do anything but wait, escaping was impossible. And she made sure to show me how happy Laura and Derek were in New York, how much Cora was cared for in her new pack, and how no one knew, or missed me in the slightest.

What she was obsessed with, thought, was someone else. A guy Laura used to babysit back… before. Myec- something Stilinski?”

Derek’s head moved so fast he might have given himself a whiplash. “Stiles? She was obsessed with Stiles?”

Peter nodded, looking slightly alarmed at the intensity in his nephew’s stare. “She used to talk about him, when she wasn’t around me. The only reason I knew it was her is because of my werewolf hearing. Used to sing this polish song, and talk about the end was near. She spoke about how the prophecy was going to be fulfilled, her prophecy.”

“What was the prophecy?” whispered Isaac, seemingly surprising himself with the question. Scott nodded at him, holding his hand in his.

Peter shook his head. “I only remember it in part, to be honest. There was a lot about spirits and Vengeance and Justice. One thing that I know? She wanted to kill him, and to do that, she needed to kill Laura.

One day, she let me go. She said that almost everything was in place, and she didn’t care if I lived or died. She said that the spark was blackened now and there was nothing anyone could do to save Myecz – Stiles.

So, I ran. Laura was dead, and from the way she had put it, you would be blaming me. I ran away and went into hiding, helping out at the conference under a fake name. I didn’t even know you guys were there. All I know that I was cleaning one of the floors, and suddenly a witch appeared and tied me up. Said that she owed a Stiles a favour or something – wait the same Stiles? - And now here I am.”

He looked at the rest of the pack, waiting, quietly for them to say something – anything. His head already hurt, and they were reacting to his words more strongly than he would have thought possible, especially Derek.

His nephew looked so different from when he last saw him. Long gone was the gangly teenager he knew, quickly replaced by a serious looking young man with a cleared head and everyone’s best interest at heart. If someone had told him, back then, that Derek would have become a capable Alpha, able to care for his own pack, Peter might have laughed in their face.

But the looks the rest of the pack was sending him, anxious and worried at the same time, weren’t lies. There was unwavering trust in their eyes, even in the eyes of the young Argent huntress (what exactly a huntress, let alone an Argent huntress was doing in their midst, Peter didn’t know).

Finally, Derek turned his eyes back on Peter. “What else can you tell us about the woman that kept you imprisoned? Or the witch that said she owed Stiles a favour?”

Now every eye was back on Peter, pinning him down like a group of hungry animals would their favourite meal. “I don’t remember much from my time there. At one point, days and nights and everything started blurring together to the point that I wasn’t sure if what I saw was real of if I had dreamed it.” He explained. “But-” he started, before abruptly interrupting himself.

The dark-skinned boy sitting next to the Argent girl – Scott maybe? – narrowed his eyes at him. “What do you remember? Anything you say could be helpful to us. Please, tell us.”

Peter hesitated for a few seconds, before speaking again. “I remember that she used to shape shift a lot. Sometimes she would shapeshift into me, but there were some other times, especially towards the end, where she would change in another man before leaving.”

Derek stared at him for a few seconds, but it was Cora who spoke up. “If you saw the man would you be able to recognise him?” she asked him, shrugging Lydia off her shoulder. “Or even describe him somehow?”

The older Hale nodded, hesitantly. “I think I can try.” He finished, trying to find any more memories, any other way to get Derek and Cora to stop staring at him with such blank faces.

Before he could come up with anything else, the front door opened suddenly, and Alan Deaton appeared in the doorway, taking in the Hale Pack without batting an eyelid.

“Miss Martin, is there any particular reason why you called me so urgently and suddenly?” he finally asked, eyes landing on the redhead.

The girl nodded. “We’ve got a case of mistaken identity here, Alan. Meet the real Peter Hale.” She presented, pointing at the man next to Laura.

Only then Deaton seemed to register his presence among them, his smile turning in a grimace in the space of a millisecond. “Peter Hale?” asked Deaton, looking at the older man with clear distrust in his eyes. “Back again so soon?”

The blond pregnant werewolf – Erica? – snorted, wrapping her arms around her chest. “According to him, it’s the first time he’s in Beacon Hills in years. He’s got a long story here, just for your benefit, doc.”

The vet glanced between her and Derek, waiting for the Alpha’s approval. When the werewolf finally nodded, Deaton sighed and turned to face Peter once more. “Apparently I have nothing better to do on a Sunday afternoon. Proceed, Mr Hale.”


When Peter finally finished recounting the entire story again, Deaton looked more than positively alarmed, his eyes shining with something. “I knew Mr Stilinski was special, but I never realised just how-

“Not another riddle, I beg of you.” Sighed the tall blond beta sitting next to Erica – perhaps Isaac? – glaring at the vet. “For once in your life, give us the shortcut version.”

Deaton looked at him straight in the eye. “Stiles Stilinski is this lifetimes reincarnation of an ancient spirit and the spirit of Vengeance knows who he is and plans to kill him.” He said, doing the most stoic bitch face expression Peter had ever seen.

The Argent huntress looked around the room for a few moments, then shook her head. “Alright, I’ll bite. Stiles is whomst?”

The vet glanced at Isaac who just threw up his hands. “I give up. Give us the riddles then.”

“This story starts a few eons ago. It’s the usual case of a myth that is not quite as fake as everyone thinks.

According to this myth, when the Goddess created the world it was Chaos. Humans were evil and monstrous; they raped, killed and hurt each other; they only brought more destruction on the Earth.”

Isaac’s hand shot up, and Deaton sighed, indulging him. “Is this another version of the story of the universal flood?” Derek glared at the beta, who just shrugged. “What? I’m Jewish.”

Deaton just continued. “In some versions, perhaps. Not in mine. In this version, to cure the Earth, the Goddess sent three siblings spirits to the Earth; the spirits were called Justice, Vengeance and Mercy, and their purpose was to work together to cure the Earth.

But the three of them were too different from each other to work together. Vengeance loved the Earth as it was, the Chaos all around. The misery around brought joy to her soul and she did her best to stop her siblings from doing their job.

Justice on the other hand, wanted to get rid of everything, and build a new race of law abiding people. He didn’t think anyone living and breathing was in any way redeemable and the only fair and just thing he could see was to regenerate everything.

Things between Justice and Vengeance got so bad that they started waging war on each other, making Earth their own battlefield. Vengeance forged an Ax to combat him while Justice unearthed his very own Spear and – according to legends – every time their arms collided with one another a new strike, pestilence or war started on Earth.

Mercy adored both of her brothers, despite them being polar opposites of her, and they adored her too; to protect her brothers from each other, Mercy did the only thing she could think of. She took the Ax of Vengeance and the Spear of Justice and ran to the only place she felt safe in – the Temple of the Goddess. Who, let’s just say, was less than thrilled in either of the three siblings.

She cursed all three of them for eternity or until they break their own curse. Vengeance and Justice would continue to wake up each lifetime, find each other and try to kill each other, while Mercy is destined to never die and forever keep the secret of where their arms are hidden. And every time Vengeance or Justice die, the arms just return to her, until they come to collect them again.”

Lydia frowned at him. “Why was Mercy punished? She tried to save her brothers, right?”

Deaton shrugged. “Her mission was never to save her brothers from each other: it was to save Earth. And she also broke the number 1 rule of the Temple of the Goddess by bringing arms in there.

How does all of this relate to Stiles? – you must be wondering.”

Derek’s second in command – Boyd was his first name? Peter wasn’t sure – spoke up. “Stiles is this lifetime’s reincarnation of Justice.”

The vet smiled, impressed. “Very well, Mr Boyd. Indeed, Stiles is harbouring the spirit of Justice. But the thing is, he isn’t aware of it. For one reason or another, Stiles didn’t know of his powers, and definitely didn’t know before he left, while I strongly suspect Vengeance knew.

The reason Beacon Hills was such a hell mouth, and all the tragedies that seem to happen only here – it makes sense; everywhere Justice and Vengeance go, something happens.”

Lydia and Boyd instantly met eyes with each other, before turning back to Deaton in badly concealed panic. “The Nogitsune? And the plane?”

Deaton sobered up, pointing at Peter. “If what he is saying is true, then Vengeance has been among us for a long time and has planned everything to destroy Stiles.”

The entire Pack looked at each other gravelly for a few seconds, Derek’s poker face slipping for a second to reveal a look of raw pain instead.

“And here is the catch.” Added Alan after a few seconds of silence. “We can’t help Stiles and we cannot defeat Vengeance. This is a bigger fight than any of us. We can only wait.”

It was dark when Stiles, Cordelia and the rest of their pack finally made it to the small bed and breakfast on the corner of Galeenstraat, in Germany, with the name of ‘Pearl Harbour’. They had been walking through the woods all day, and the children were already exhausted.

Walking through the ley lines was definitely helpful in moving fast, but that meant leaving a trail too. Whenever a portal through that thin line of reality was opened, it was like turning a lamp outside and calling moths. In this case the moths being weird creatures following them and trying to get to them – especially to Cordelia.

Stiles had given up on trying to get an explanation from the girl, who just acted like she had no idea what was going on, but he knew her well enough now to be able to spot a lie when she told it.

He also knew her well enough to trust she would find a solution for whatever was going on and come to him if she needed his help.

The woman sitting on the receptionist seat looked really old, grey hair elegantly shaped in a bun and pair of fancy looking glasses sitting on her nose. But her skin appeared strange, so translucent and almost reptilian in the dim light of the B&B.

The place was scarcely decorated, some old religious paintings hung around, a bronze decorative sword on one wall, and fruit baskets all over. It really gave a sense something old masquerading itself as something new, in a way.

However, it wasn’t until Skyler growled slightly that Stiles and the receptionist met eye, and it was like everything became cold all of a sudden. Her eyes imperceptibly widened in what Stiles could only recognise as fury and her left hand twitched, but then she immediately smiled.

“Guten Nachmittag, ladies gentlemen. How may I assist you today?” she asked, glancing between Stiles and Cordelia, before spotting Leia and the twins. “Out on a little family trip?”

Both Cordelia and Stiles almost physically flinched at the accusation, but the blonde fae was the first one to speak. “We would like to book 2 rooms please. Next to each other.”

The woman nodded, her gaze focusing on Cordelia for a few seconds before turning back to her register. Stiles looked at the number of keys on the wall and the number of rooms. “Is there anyone else here?” he asked the old woman.

She looked up at him and for a second, he could have sworn she hissed at him. But it was gone quicker than he could register it. “It’s a special place we got here. Not many people register here, you see.” She chuckled, the sound coming out almost choked. “It can’t be our prices, because those are way too cheap for it.”

She finally stood up, grabbing two heavy looking keys from the wall, and in doing so, knocked down the name tag on her chest. Only then did Stiles realise that the woman had never actually told him what her name was.

“Sorry, miss, I am not sure I caught your name?” he asked, as she slowly came out of her cubicle. She was limping on one leg, and looked taller than she had done a few minutes before.

She chuckled her croaky laugh again. “Don’t you worry about little old me. Follow me, I’ll show you to your rooms.” She said, beckoning them forward.

Both Stiles and Cordelia stopped in their tracks, and Skyler let out another low growl, this time more threatening. The twins looked up in confusion and even Leia seemed to sense the sudden change in atmosphere. Stiles raised his voice a little. “Not until you tell us your name, we won’t.”

This time Stiles was 100% sure she hissed at him. Her hands were shaking slightly and her eyes looked full of unstoppable fury.

Cordelia stepped forward, a light beam forming into her hands. “In the name of the Goddess, I command you to reveal your name!”

The effect was instantaneous. The old woman let out another croaky sound as her form started to change completely. Her clothes fell from her body, revealing green translucent reptilian skin. Her tongue became smaller and arcued like one of a snake and her eyes turned pure black. Her arms and feet became bigger and thicker, ending in huge claws and her face morphed into a lizards. She was like 100 times the size of an actual lizard, but that’s the only thing Stiles could assimilate her to.

Cordelia cursed in what Stiles could only assume was Latin, before turning her face to him. “It’s a Tartarusian one of the creatures from Tartarus. He’s pretty deadly.” She added, taking a step back. “Good luck.”

The spark turned to face the creature, who seemed to be hissing at him and touched the small gemstone around his neck. “Cordelia, protective rune for the kids, now.” He ordered, feeling the unwavering power that was so hard to control running through his veins. “Stay with them.” He added, turning his back to them.

Skyler growled, stepping forward while Cordelia, for once, listened to Stiles and drew up a protective sphere around them, making them invisible to the monster or anyone else who might have tried to find them.

Stiles conjured a small fire sphere in his hands, throwing it at the creature, but it was faster than he could expect, dodging every one of them. It tried to hit him again with it’s claws and Stiles jumped over it, rolling away to the side.

The Tartarusian hissed at him, its tongue dripping saliva from its mouth and charged again, not giving him a chance to do anything but try to jump away from him, which ended up with him being thrown to the side by a powerful tail attack.

Skyler growled at the monster, sinking its teeth in his tail as hard as it could. The monster hissed, trying to shake her off, and Stiles used that chance to throw other fireballs at it.

That only made it angrier, as it finally got Skyler off it’s tail and threw her against the wall. Stiles faltered for one second, looking at his familiar in worry, and that’s all the Tartarusian needed to grab him by the leg with his claw and throwing him against another surface again.

The brunette crashed hard against the wall, the pain in his leg and his whole body in general stopping him from moving. The monster took that chance to move on top of him, his dark eyes boring into him while drips of saliva fell on his face.

“Tata?” called Leia’s voice, the little girl all but shaking as she watched from her protective sphere.

That was what did the trick, the same way the twins’ did the trick the first time he ever met them. He pushed the animal off him with both feet, ignoring the pain that shot up his leg when he did so.

The Tartarusian rolled a couple of feet backward before standing again, hissing ferociously at the brunette, but Stiles was already moving. He ran and jumped on the counter, narrowly missing being hit by the tail of the animal, and grabbed the huge decorative sword on the wall.

Except that maybe it wasn’t a decorative sword. Because the moment Stiles’ hand wrapped around the handle, it was like he had been holding it his entire life. He heard Cordelia gasp a little from where she was, but all he could focus on was the way his energy and the sword seemed to connect, the same way he and Skyler had connected when they met. It was like an extension of his power.

He felt his eyes flashing, but he didn’t care, because he felt more balanced than he had in a long time, more balanced than when he wore his necklace.

The Tartarusian hissed at him, without moving, and Stiles flashed his eyes again. “Et revertetur ad volendum satisfacere omnibus abyssis, tu maleficus viventem.” He bellowed, the latin coming out of him uncontrolled.

Cordelia arched an eyebrow, repeating the words to herself. “Atone and return to the abyss, you malefic creature.”

The Tartarusian hissed again, moving towards him mendaciously and Stiles let the sword guide him. With one single movement he jumped and cut the side of the monster, rolling away in time to avoid being clawed at again.

Then, holding the sword in one hand he did something he had never seen done before, except in Avatar: he controlled the blood flowing in it’s body, inverting the flux back into the body, the same way he did with water. Pushing the influx backwards in his heart and watching the blood draining from its body, the way his claws stopped moving and his breath became more and more laboured. The monster shrieked and hissed again, and then fell on the ground because his heart had just exploded in his own body.

Stiles stared at the Tartarusian, not an ounce of pity in his heart for the monster. He couldn’t just die like that. No, he imparted pain and sufferance, it deserved to suffer and burn more, it deserved to –

“Tata?” called Bianca and finally Stiles snapped out of it. He turned around with a gasp, letting the sword fall to the ground as he rushed towards his children and Cordelia, enveloping them all with a hug.

“Are you guys okay? Leia? Bi? Anya?” he asked, frantically checking them up for some injuries.

Cordelia huffed, but didn’t push him off. “They’re fine. Unlike you. Just because you found the spear of Justice doesn’t mean you’re invincible.” She told him, eyeing his blood-soaked trousers with a disgusted expression.

But Stiles wasn’t even listening anymore. “So that is the spear of justice? But where is Mercy, then?”

The fae gave him a look, before eyeing the monster on the floor. “My guess is that Vengeance made an appearance before you did.” She gave him a knowing look. “I guess, in a way, you two freed her from her mortal prison, at least for this lifetime.”

“She didn’t deserve this.” Stiles found himself saying, looking down at the monster, who was now turning back in the figure of an old woman. Not the one they saw before, no, but someone he could recognise from the painting he had seen in the library in London.

“No, she didn’t.” agreed Cordelia, picking up Skyler in her arms, who had turned herself in a small cat. “We can give her a proper burial tomorrow. At least for now, we can enjoy some much-earned sleep in a free bed and breakfast.”


The room was white, and empty, not unlike the psychiatric wards he saw in movies and tv shows all the time. It wasn’t scary, but there was the sense of something that wasn’t quite there, of something that wasn’t supposed to be there, something –

“You made it.” Came a voice.

Stiles turned around so fast he almost broke his own neck. Behind him was standing a woman who looked like she was some age between 20 and 60, with two long white-haired braids at each side of her head and kind clear blue eyes.

“Mercy.” He guessed correctly, recognising her immediately.

The woman smiled. “Justice. But you go by something different this life, don’t you?” she asked. Stiles narrowed his eyes at her, and she laughed, a sweet crystalline sound. “Don’t worry, I know dreams are never completely safe, I won’t ask you for your real name.”

“You were trapped in the body of the Tartarusian?” asked the brunette, looking at her uncertain.

Mercy winked at him. “My body, perhaps. My mind was always alive in that motel. I know my sister well enough to be ready for her attacks in the name of love.

When Stiles relaxed a little, she nodded, wrapping her frail looking hand on his arm. “Come. Let’s take a walk.”

Just as she finished speaking, it was like the entire room changed. Where the was before nothing but white emptiness, suddenly there was a trail and trees, and a small lake like in Beacon Hills’ woods and –

“Are we in Beacon Hills?” he asked in confusion, his heart rate raising suddenly at the thought.

Mercy shrugged. “It’s your mind, not mine. I have never been in Beacon Hills before.” She looked at him curiously. “Is that where you come from?” she questioned, walking over the small wooden bridge.

Stiles stopped for a second, running his hands over one particular tree, a small smile unknowingly blossoming on his face. He remembered it like it was yesterday.


“Heads up, Scott!” called Stiles, watching in almost fascination as both Isaac and Boyd approached him.

Derek immediately turned around to glare at Stiles for shouting helpful tips, and the human sat back down next to Lydia, rolling his eyes at the werewolf. It wasn’t like he had told Scott exactly where to look, was it? God’s sake, the guy was blindfolded and was supposed to stand his ground against both Isaac and Boyd.

The brunette just sighed as Scott’s claws made contact with the air and then Boyd just pushed him on the ground with one kick, while Derek looked at them with a pinched expression that was supposed to represent how painful he found the entire situation.

Instead of voicing that, he walked towards the other members of the pack and snatched the blindfold from Scott, putting it on his own eyes. “What you need to be doing is using the rest of your senses. All of you concentrate and rely too much on what you can see with your eyes. The entire point of this exercise is to use something other than your eyes.”

He turned to face Scott. “Tell me, Scott, what happened the other time you came face to face with an Argent and one of their newer arms?”

The werewolf squirmed slightly, even though Derek’s eyes were blindfolded. “They used some sort of sparkles that made me kind of blind?” when Derek said nothing, he quickly added. “That’s how they got me.”

“Now, if you had used your ears or your sense of smell, or literally any other of your enhanced powers, do you think they would have been able to capture you?” asked the Alpha once again, moving back towards the middle.

When no one answered, Stiles stood up. “No, our almighty Alpha!” he called out, ignoring Lydia’s little snort and the way the other wolves just glared at him.

Derek let out another long-suffering sigh, before his lips turned into a low malicious smile. “Correct answer, Stiles. Now, please come here.” He called, standing up straighter.

The brunette blinked at him for a couple of seconds and turned to face Lydia. The strawberry blond just shrugged, watching him walk towards the clearing like one would watch their husband before he was about to be executed.

When Stiles finally stopped next to Derek the werewolf went back to addressing the rest of the pack. “Now, I want all three of you to try to attack Stiles at the same time.” He said, without missing a beat.

Boyd narrowed his eyes at that, while both Isaac and Scott stared at him in shock.

“What? Are you kidding?” asked Scott, Lydia appraising the situation from the safety of the house.

Stiles’ heart was beating quite a little faster, but he said nothing when the Alpha pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “You heard me. Keyword being try.” He added

Scott tried to sputter some other excuses as to way this was a Bad Idea, but Boyd and Isaac were already in positing, circling their alpha and the human, fangs and claws appearing.

“Aim for the throat if you can, or any other weak points.” Added Derek, like he was making conversation, lips curling into a smirk when Stiles’ heart beat suddenly started rising.

When Isaac finally launched himself at the brunette, Stiles really doubted Derek’s plan for a second. But even before he could reach them, Derek was already moving, pushing him out of the way with a perfectly well-aimed kick.

“Your heartbeat is too loud for your own good.” He said immediately. Then he was jumping again, this time clawing at Boyd’s arms and sending him rolling on the ground. “When you jumped, the vibrations were strong enough.” He shook his head. “You need to be able to sense these things. You need to try to make sure you are one with everything around you, you need to be able to control such things.”

Stiles didn’t even see when Scott stopped complaining and finally started moving in his direction, but Derek sensed him, moving right behind him and grabbing him by the scruff of his collar. “Scott, why exactly are you breathing so loudly?” asked him the werewolf, before throwing him against one of the tree in the clearing with minimal fatigue.

Then he finally took off the blindfold and turned his attention on Stiles. “Now go sit down back there. If I here you breathe again, I might accidentally let the betas win.”

The younger boy glared at him, offended. “Half of the time it wasn’t even me! It was Lydia!” he huffed, stalking back towards his seat before Derek decided to put his threat in practice.

Isaac snorted, watching him walk away. “Yes, because Lydia has time to stop shopping with Allison to come here and watch a bunch of werewolves train.”

Only then did Stiles realise that Lydia had already left.


He let go of the tree like it had physically hurt him, looking at Mercy in shock. “What the hell was that?”

Mercy looked at him in surprise, like that was something he should already know. “Your memories, of course, Stiles. What else?”

The brunette shook his head, staring at the tree in confusion. “Those can’t be my memories. It doesn’t make sense.” He said, turning to face Mercy, eyes growing suspicious all of a sudden. “What did you do?”

“I have not done anything.” She answered, sounding particularly disappointed by Stiles’ assumption. “That tree helps to show your memories. I haven’t done anything, nor do I know how, to alter them in any way.” She tilted her head to the side. “What seems to be the problem, Stiles?”

“That memory should not be there.” He was staring at the tree again, like if he looked at it enough, it would give him a proper answer. “Lydia should not be in that memory. That’s wrong.”

Mercy still looked confused. “Lydia?”

“Lydia is a friend of mine. She’s a banshee in my old pack. But the point is, she should not be in that memory, because, back then, she didn’t know about werewolves. She didn’t even know Derek until she resuscitated Peter, his uncle. So, for her to be sitting there, watching Scott, Boyd, Isaac and Derek fight in their wolf forms, with no Allison anywhere near, just doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t add up.”

“Then she wasn’t there.” Said Mercy, looking at him knowingly. “And if Lydia wasn’t really there, but you somehow remember seeing her, it means that…?”

“Someone tampered with my memories?” asked Stiles, still confused. When Mercy didn’t seem to agree, Stiles tried to find another possible explanation, anything else –

“Vengeance.” He said, finally understanding. He frowned, feeling his heart beating in his chest uncomfortably. “How could she tamper with my memories? Back then I didn’t even know she existed.”

Mercy seemed to be alarmed by his words, stopping in her tracks. Her light eyes suddenly seemed like a tempest ready to happen anytime. “What do you mean you didn’t know Vengeance existed? You are Justice.”

Stiles’ attention was taken by the tree, so he just answered her distractedly. “I didn’t even know I was Justice till like a year ago.”

“That is not possible,” whispered Mercy, her frown growing deeper. “Power sometimes remains dormant for a while, but it never remains dormant for long, something – someone – must have tampered with your magic somehow, but whom? Vengeance would have never been able to get close enough to do something like that, so who?”

She glanced back at the brunette for a few moments, eyes calculating. Because yes, the moment she had seen this reincarnation of Justice for the first time, she had known something wasn’t quite right about him. After all, she had spent lifetimes trapped in a stupid painting and only able to speak to her brother and sister in their dreams. But when Stiles had come to her, he hadn’t come as Justice; no, he came as a young adult with children and a fae accompanying him, with human affection and connection.

And now she learned that he hadn’t even known he was Justice until a few months before? Something didn’t add up.

“Touch the tree again.” She suggested, voice higher this time, and Stiles immediately obeyed, like he had just been waiting for her to ask again. Another thing that Justice would have never done.


The day of Claudia Stilinski’s funeral was one of the hottest days of that summer. Stiles had thought it fitting, that day, small pearls of sweat decorating his forehead. That’s one of the few things Stiles remembers from that day. The scorching heat of the sun and the people.

In her life, Claudia Stilinski had had impact in a lot of people’s life: as a florist and a part time educator in the public elementary school, she had come in contact with all kinds of folks, touched the hearts of so many.

But Stiles didn’t know all of the people who had turned up to the funeral, wearing black dresses and coats, crying their eyes out and saying kind words to him and his father. For him, they might as well have been those mannequins you see in the window of every shop.

He had stood quietly next to his father, both Stilinski men staring at the empty hole in the ground with equally empty eyes and red rimmed eyes. At least the Sheriff was trying to make some sort of conversation with the people around him. At least he was trying to look alive.

Stiles remembers Ms McCall and Scott, both of them teary eyed as they hugged him and his father, muttering some soft words probably meant to comfort him. He remembers the Hale Family, standing near the end of the of the ceremony, and Talia Hale giving them their condolences. He remembers Lydia, Jackson, Danny… But he also remembers someone else.

He remembers Agent McCall standing near the backdoor of the Church, just standing there and judging everything for afar. And Stiles remembers standing up abruptly, just as they started moving his moth- the corpse to the tomb.

His father didn’t stop him, didn’t even seem to see him as Stiles slowly walked away from everyone, ignoring the whispers and the pitiful looks everyone was sending his way as he kept walking back towards the church, ignoring Scott and Lydia’s calls of ‘Stiles!’.

The boy only stopped once he was secure inside the Church, careful to close the door behind him. The inside of the Church was exactly how they had left it a few minutes prior, completely covered in darkness except for the candles lit everywhere. The only difference was the Organ playing in the background, an allegro tone that couldn’t contrast more with the day they were having.

Stiles just stayed quiet, moving until he was standing side by side with the Organ, looking at the man playing the keys. Rafael’s voice was almost a surprise when he spoke. “Your mother was buried in a white dress with a candle in her hand.” He had noted, not bothering to interrupt his song.

For the first time in that whole day, Stiles actually spoke. “It’s an old polish tradition. My mother was polish.”

The Agent smirked. “All of us are. That’s where we first came from. Narodziny. You know what that means, boy?”

Stiles tilted his head to the side. “It means birth.” He glanced at the man up and down for a few seconds. “U rodziłeś się w ogniu.” He added, his Californian accent mixing with his polish, but his words clear as a day.

McCall didn’t stop playing the organ, but it was a pretty near thing. His eyes moved to Stiles. “How do you know I was born in the flames? Your mother tell you that before she died?”

“What you did was wrong.” Pronounced Stiles, looking at the man before him with a strange look in his eyes. The room seemed to be growing colder the longer they stood there. “You killed an innocent.”

The music faltered for a second, and for the first time since they started talking to each other, the FBI agent finally looked at Stiles in the eyes. The room grew suddenly warmer, his eyes – had they always been so bright? – pinning him down. “What do you know about innocence? You are but a mere child.”

Stiles smiled, a cold, cold smile, a smile older than him. “Urodziłem się w wodospadach.”

This time the music stopped altogether, a few candles flickering around them. Agent McCall was staring at him in so much hatred that anyone else might have cowered, or run away. “ YOU?! You are born from the waterfall?” He had translated him perfectly, he knew he hadn’t misheard him, but maybe, perhaps –

The boy who spoke with an ancient tongue just stared at him, eyes glowing slightly. “She loved her boy. Claudia Stilinski died a noble death, protecting me from you. She worked so hard and tirelessly to fool you, and I’m surprised to see she actually did.” He laughed humourlessly. “You always were the stupid sister, Vengeance. I guess transferring yourself in the body of Rafael McCall was probably the smartest thing you ever did.”

Vengeance glared, stepping backwards a little. “You know you can’t kill me directly without the spear and that I cannot kill you without the Ax. So why bother?”

Stiles shrugged. “You seemed to do a fine job killing Claudia Stilinski with dark magic. Who did you use, if I might ask?”

The other scoffed, looking at him in disgust. “As if I would ever tell you. You would just try to kill them because of your stupid a life for a life rule.”

“It’s what’s right. What’s just.” Told him the younger glaring right back at him.

“You and your stupid morals! We could work together, terminate this annoyingly long war once and for all. Rule the Earth.” His eyes – her eyes? – brimmed with glee and thirst. “Our strength together would be unmatched. We could finally save Mercy and stay out of each other’s lives forever.” Vengeance paused for a second. “There is no need for a reckoning, my dear brother.”

Stiles laughed at Vengeances’ attempts. “You think you can escape my fury? Wherever you are, Vengeance, I will find you. We might have been only but a brother and a sister, once upon a time, but when you forged your Ax, when you decided you would kill me for power, that’s when the reckoning started.

And if I need to die for the prophecy to come true, then I shall.”

Vengeance laughed again. “It has been thousands of lifetimes, Justice. Neither of us ever won.”

The brunette smiled. “And yet, this is the first lifetime you or I fail to kill each other the moment we see one another, or fail to create a war or anything.” Vengeance’s smile turned into a straight line. Stiles continued. “A fire can grow strong enough evaporate water upon contact or the water can be strong enough to complete drown out the source of the fire. But that doesn’t stop anything. One day, something else will triumph and Mercy will be set free.

Beware brother, the reckoning has just begun.”

The candles stopped burning and Stiles fainted in the church.


Stiles let go of the tree, breath coming in more laboured now and staring at Mercy in shock. “What is this prophecy? Why don’t I remember any of this?”

Mercy looked at him, a small light of hope in her eyes. “What prophecy are you talking about?” she asked instead, ignoring the rest of the question.

The brunette shrugged, helplessly. “A fire can grow strong enough evaporate water upon contact or the water can be strong enough to complete drown out the source of the fire. But that doesn’t stop anything. One day, something else will triumph and Mercy will be set free. Beware brother, the reckoning has just begun.

Mercy stared at him, a small smile blossoming on her lips. “You can do that? You can save me?”

Stiles almost rolled his eyes. “As I’ve said, I didn’t even remember any of this until a few seconds ago! What does any of this mean?”

The woman seemed to come back to her sense for a moment. “Someone hid your memories and your spark from you. That’s the only explanation for what’s going on.”

The boy glanced at her in surprise. “Cordelia said that that isn’t possible. That Justice is part of me.”

“Technically that is the truth,” conceded the other, “but there isn’t any other explanation I can think of. Who would do that, and especially why?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “You don’t think Vengeance had anything to do with this? He could have!”

Mercy seemed amused by that. “Even if Vengeance had gotten close enough to you to do that, why would she have? She’s the spirit of spite and revenge. What she would do if she got close enough to you was find a way to murder you immediately.” She shook her head again. “Whoever did this, did this to protect you from Vengeance.”

Stiles thought back to the memory, to the words he- the words Justice and Scott’s d- Vengeance exchanged. To the only person who would do something like hide his spark to protect him, the only person who could know and love him enough to do something like that.

“I think I know who did this.” He said in the end, looking down at his hand.

Mercy looked at him in surprise, and smiled. “Whoever did this must have loved you the same way I love both you and Vengeance. But I am afraid, my dear Justice, beloved brother, our time has come. It’s time to go.”

The place around them started dissipating, and even Mercy started disappearing slowly, as if she was nothing more than a cloud of smoke.

The last words she said before disappearing where left with another of her small smiles. “I believe in you, Stiles.”

Not Justice. Stiles.

The brunette smiled back, before finally waking up.

“Mama.” Called Stiles once he was back in his bed, staring down at the way Leia was all cuddled up in Bianca’s arms. Honestly, at the beginning, Stiles had been terrified to find out how the dynamic was going to change once Leia started growing up and wanting to spend more times with her sisters; after all Bianca and Anastasia were twins, and had been together since the beginning.

Turns out he didn’t have to worry about them in the slightest. Leia somehow fit perfectly with all of them, becoming sort of a buffer between the twins, not quite as quiet as Anya and not quiet as irresponsible as Bianca. A perfect middle, if you will.

Stiles. Answered Claudia Stilinski, appearing in her white funeral dress next to the bed.

Skyler gave a low bark of acknowledgement, staring with her smart eyes between the ghost and the spark.

When her son didn’t immediately answer, Claudia sighed. What do you want to know, Stiles?

The brunette didn’t look up at her. It wasn’t like he was mad or anything. No. He was just sort of… confused by it all. “Why do I have missing memories?”

You want to know about your heritage. About Justice. She guessed, looking at her son with a strange look in her eyes.

Stiles nodded slightly. “Yes.”

As you know, I was adopted by the Bulanov family a little after I was born. What you don’t know is the reason I was given up, the reason my mother supposedly abandoned me.

I was born a fae with no powers, in the lowest part of the Unseelie Realm, and I was born burdened with a prophecy on top.

“I thought Unseelie faeries died eons ago.” This time the one who spoke was Cordelia, staring at Claudia Stilinski in almost surprise.

Claudia smiled slightly. We are almost exict. And your kind didn’t make anything much easier for us. But that’s a story for another time.

The fae just snorted at that. “Touché.”

What I want you to know is that, from the moment I was born, I knew I was going to give birth to you, and I always knew you were going to harbour the spirit of Justice. I knew of the legends, and I knew Vengeance would do her best to find you and kill you, no matter how many people would have to die in the process.

You probably don’t remember this, but when you were younger, we had this neighbour who lived 3 houses down from ours – which, by the way, as my only living heir, belongs to you. Well this neighbour was my older sister Eolande.

Eolande was one of the last faes from the Unseelie Court, and had looked after me from the moment I started growing up in the Bulanov household to the moment where I married your father and conceived you. She actually helped delivering you, same way Cordelia helped deliver Leia.

The moment I died, she disappeared, because her job was done.

I took you to her to try and see if there was any chance for you to be safe from your destiny, any way in which you wouldn’t have to kill or die a painful death.

Cordelia didn’t look impressed. “You tried to change his destiny?”

Claudia just shrugged. I tried to save my son. From the way you seem to have gotten attached to Stiles and his pack, I’d say you can understand where I’m coming from.

The blonde pressed her lips in a tight line, and narrowed her eyes at Claudia, but didn’t interrupt her further.

Eolande said that there was no way I could take Justice away from my little Stiles, but there was something else I could do. Something else I could do to hide you from Vengeance and your so-called destiny. I could hide your spark, lock it away and make the key impossible for you to find.

Claudia sighed, now avoiding eye contact with Stiles and Cordelia. I used magic stronger than me and my sister both to keep Justice trapped inside of your spark, and your spark trapped inside of you. Sometimes it did take a hold of you, but our unseelie magic made it so that only the darkest magic, the darkest and most evil power could unlock your spark.

And I just guessed that since I surrounded you in such a town, with a pack of werewolf sworn to protect and a father who was legally required to carry firearm at any time, you would be safe. You had Scott, and other friends, and a huge crush on Lydia Martin – you were never supposed to face the kind of the dark magic that would be able to unlock your spark, and in doing so, free Justice.

But I couldn’t have foreseen it.

“The Nogitsune.” Guessed Stiles, nodding to himself.

But his mother shook her head. You and Vengeance are making the same mistake. It wasn’t my death, or the pack’s death or the Nogitsune that finally unlocked your spark. It was something more ancient and scary. It was the loss of hope, that pure fear that you had for the twins when the airplane was crashing; that’s what opened your spark.

The brunette blinked in surprise at his mother. “The lost of hope?” he asked, in confusion.

Claudia Stilinski nodded. Vengeance probably had her whole plan ready, take you away from the pack and then kill you in a freak airplane accident. But the moment the two girls appeared on the airplane with you, that’s when Justice finally awakened in you and morphed with you. You were ready to die, you had lost everything and everyone, you had no hope left in you, but you wished and wished for the children’s lives, for their safety; that’s what opened your spark, that’s what awakened Justice.

In trying to keep you away from who you are, I somewhat made you the strongest version of Justice you could have ever been.

“Not that it makes any of this much better.” Commented Cordelia, but there was a small spark of hope and something else in her eyes.

Of course not.

“So, my memories and my dreams…” started Stiles, without finishing the sentence.

Those are things that really happened, things that Justice did while in your body whenever something awoke it in you. Never for long, obviously, but Justice has always been in you, asleep but alert. I’m sorry.

The brunette seemed to be assimilating the information, hands running through Anya’s in an attempt to keep himself calm. But there was only one thing going through his mind.

“Mama.” Finally said Stiles, looking at his mother with tears in his eyes. “Am I the reason of your death?”

Claudia Stilinski smiled. You are the reason, so many people are not going to die this, time, Stiles. You were never the reason for me dying.

You are going to save us all.

It was raining particularly hard the night the foreign limousine stopped at the corner of the Gareenstraat. It had been sunny all evening and then, like someone had just turned the tap on for the universal flooding, rain started pouring down the skies. The wind was cold and powerful, bringing the smell of smoke and freshly cut grass whenever it blew, and the lightning regularly appearing in the sky was basically screaming ‘this is the premise of a tempest of sparks and lightning’.

However, despite the more than awful weather, the person that stepped out of the limousine didn’t appear worried. She was wearing an awfully low-cut dress that was doing a poor job of hiding her chest and her thighs, and her hair was left undone on her back, the red and ebony streaks sitting still and unmoving on her back.

What was even more striking than her outfit or her hair that didn’t move in the wind, was the red smile painted on her lips and her red toenails in plain view, since she wasn’t wearing any footwear.

She moved slowly as she approached the door of what looked like a motel, although no one would have ever noticed its existence, and maybe for the wind, maybe for something else, the door just bursted open the moment she approached it and she entered the building.

Once inside she looked around, eyeing the flowers and stuff on the floor with slight interest. The only time her expression changed at all was when she noticed the Tartarusian monster, laying dead on the floor.

Her expression hardened immediately, and she bent down, observing the dead animal with a disappointed expression on her face. When she passed her fingers over his dead body she flinched slightly, the cold of his skin seemingly surprising her.

She glared down at the animal for a few seconds, before turning her expression in one of unperturbed calm. “I know you’re here.” She pronounced, and her voice was lower than one would have expected by just looking at her. It seemed like she was talking to you directly from the pits of hell and she looked the part too.

She rolled her eyes, taking a seat on the counter and then inspecting her nails carefully. “You have been following my movements since I stepped out of my car and I am not an idiot. I know who you are, whether you show yourself or not.”

She didn’t turn her head, but a small smile of satisfaction appeared on her lips as a small flash of light occurred and someone finally started towards where she was sitting.

“Cordelia, fae of the court.” Pronounced the she-devil, only looking up once the fairy stopped before her. “It’s been awhile since any member of the Fair Folk approached me, Seelie or Unseelie.”

The fae’s face remained blank. “In this lifetime or in general?”

The other woman laughed. “The last time I for sure saw a fae was probably way before you were born.” She gave her a long look, licking her lips. “Although you really do not look your age. I know I wouldn’t mind-”

“Why are you here?” interrupted her Cordelia, her face not betraying any emotion still. “And why exactly have you been sending monsters after me?”

“A birdie told me that you might be up to some sort of fae trick.” Said the other and she smiled. “You see, a friend of mine was supposed to die in a particular aeroplane crash. He was pretty depressed when he boarded the plane, so I doubt his fight or flight instincts kicked in, so, theoretically, he should not have survived the plane crash. Because of that, I tried to track him down, you know, find his body but… there was nothing.” To anyone else her concerned face might have worked, but not on Cordelia. “So, I did some research and guessed that if he somehow survived, he would have tried to find some witches or something to help him, so I sent some other hunters up there to deal with him. Instead, what the hunters remember seeing there it’s you – right before you disappeared with a child.”

Cordelia’s façade slipped off for a second, outrage colouring her features at once. “You sent the hunters to kill the witches and werewolves in the village?”

“Now you are getting it.” Her smile was bright and so contrasting with her words Cordelia really started feeling sick. “So, I thought, what is Cordelia, a fae, doing with a child? So, I tried to track you, but you kept moving from place to place so fast! Argentina, then Brazil, then London, and then you kept moving from there – moving towards my dear sister Mercy of all people. And now my pet here is dead and although I don’t know where it was, I have a feeling you also found the spear of Justice. So, tell me, Cordelia, what are you hiding? Or who are you hiding?” she finally asked, stepping off the counter and slowly moving towards her.

Cordelia looked at her straight in her eye, refusing to show any sign of weakness. Her eyes sometimes were red like fire, while some other times they were black like carbon. Right now, they looked like obsidian, ready to burn at any time. “I could answer this question. I could tell you the truth or I could blatantly lie to you. There are so many interpretations for one single question, aren’t there?” she smiled slightly. “But I could give you the answer you want, too. All you need to do is give me your name.”

The taller woman did not flinch away, but it was pretty damn close. Instead she narrowed her eyes, trying to appear unbothered by the question. “You know who I am. I am Vengeance.”

The fae just stared at her, pretending to be amused. “That is not what I asked.”

The rain started falling a little harder, the wind carrying the smell of electricity left behind by the lightning, and the woman smiled. “That’s all you need to know about me. I am your worst nightmare, the tears of an infant, the blood of a virgin maiden, the sweat of a soldier: I am the tale of lightning.”

Cordelia just stared at her dead in the eyes. “It’s never a tale of lightning, Vengeance. It was never and it never will be. It’s always been and always will be something else: a Tale of Sparks and Lightning.”

Riding a Porsche in Beacon Hills wasn’t the most inconspicuous way of getting around; but when there was only one family – or only one person – in the whole town travelling in that vehicle, no one batted an eyelid anymore.

Even when he hadn’t been seen around in nearly four years.

Jackson stopped his car outside of the McCall house, where he had noticed all the pack scents were leading to. The Hale-McCall-Argent-Lahey-Martin-whatever-they-called-themselves-now pack.

He didn’t immediately climb out of the car, instead choosing to sit there and stare for a while at the house, listening to the several heartbeats from inside the place. He wondered who was still there and who had left the pack.

Would Scott punch him on sight? Would Isaac even want to see him? Would any of them? Cora had screeched at him when she had received the picture of Stiles and Cordelia and the rest of the pack, but the rest of the pack hadn’t contacted him, which only made him more nervous.

I am Jackson Whittemore, he though, narrowing his eyes at his reflection. Why on Earth am I nervous to get up and face my pack? To return to my place as a legitimate member of the Hale Pack? Why –

His stream of thoughts was cut abruptly when the door opened, and Derek Hale stepped out, marching decidedly towards his car. Not going to lie, for one split second Jackson really considered putting the keys back in the ignition and quickly getting the fuck out of there.

Instead he remained frozen, watching the Alpha, the man who bit him then tried to kill him – several times, one might add – advancing towards him, his face a perfect example of a poker face.

When Derek did nothing more than arch his eyebrows and stare, only then did Jackson get the courage of stepping out of the car and finally face his Alpha.

The older werewolf stared at him for a few more seconds, taking in the Armani and Gucci in which he was covered and the aviators on his head. “How long was Stiles with you?” was the first thing that came out of his mouth.

Jackson was caught by surprise, but he did a good job hiding that. “Uhm. Almost a year.” He swallowed. “We met in South America and then he came with me to London.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone? You knew we were looking for him, didn’t you?”

This time Jackson almost glared at the older man. “He didn’t want to be found and I respected that.”

Derek’s façade fell for a fraction of a second, before his poker face returned in place. “And yet, you sent us those pictures of him and those other people. Why?”

This time Jackson did glare. “Those people, as you refer to them, are Stiles’ family.” Derek flinched at that, but the beta pretended not to see. “Those are Stiles’ children, and they love him, and he loves them. They are his entire world and are the kindest creatures on this Earth.” He almost smiled thinking about Anya, and Bianca and Leia. “Then of course there is Cordelia, who I don’t particularly like, and who doesn’t particularly like me, but I respect. She cares for Stilinski, and he for she. The only reason you guys have that picture is because Stiles wanted you to have it.”

The werewolf seemed to be studying him, the way he was standing and his heartbeat all at once. “He looked happy.”

The beta schooled his expression back into one of calm – you know, for plausible deniability in case someone guessed he actually cared – before answering. “He was.”

“Why should we, as a pack, take you back?” finally asked Derek after a few seconds of silence.

Jackson tried to keep his heart rate at a normal pace. The question he had been dreading, the question he had kept asking himself after Stiles and Cora – and lowkey Lydia as well – had kept telling him that he needed to go back to the Pack.

You bit me. You are my Alpha. You saved me. You are my pack . All of his answers didn’t seem to be right, none of them seemed to –

“It’s where I belong.” He finally answered, voice vacillating despite his strongest efforts. Instead he stared right into Derek’s eyes, red and gold facing each other, neck slightly exposed in submission.

“Quit giving him a hard time.” Said someone, stepping out of the house and rolling her eyes slightly at the Alpha. It took Jackson only a few seconds to recognize her as Erica Reyes from high school. The years had been definitely kind on her and was that a child in her arms? She smirked at Derek. “Cora already told you all you need to know, and if he’s sponsored by Stiles himself, I’ll take him.” She turned back to Jackson. “Come meet your pack nephew, Leon Boyd, born a few days ago with all his fingers and toes.”

Derek rolled his eyes, hiding a smile, and finally, Jackson felt like he was really where he belonged.

In his pack.


December – Allison’s death

End December/beginning January – Stiles leaves Beacon Hills/accident happens


January – sheriff dies/comes back to life

February – Allison and Aiden come back to life/ Stiles and the twins live on the island

March – Stiles and the twins go to the witches

July – birth of Leia / death of Narcissa

July /August – Boyd and Erica come back to life/ Stiles joins the south american pack

August – Scott gives up Alpha Powers- Derek becomes Alpha of the Hale Pack

September – Cordelia comes back to Stiles

October – Stiles’ birthday

December – Stiles leaves the Abano Pack


February – Laura comes back to life/ Stiles kills Kate Argent, becoming aware of his powers

June – Stiles meets Jackson and leaves South America; calls his father/ Hale Family reunited

November – Hale Pack realises Peter Hale is not who they thought he was/ Erica Reyes is two months pregnant

December – Stiles leaves the UK and heads towards East Europe/ Hale Pack finds Peter Hale.


February – Stiles recovers the spear of Justice and meets Mercy + talks to his mother

March – Stiles and his pack move to Canada - not actually written about it -

May – Cordelia confronts Vengeance

June – Jackson comes back and Erica gives birth