A Spark of a Plan

by WordsandChocolate

Summary:

Stiles decides that Derek's sorry excuse of a pack needs fixing.

Notes:

Set vaguely at the end of season 2.

I have a Teen Wolf tumblr now, so you can find me at https://www.tumblr.com/blog/sparkofstiles

Chapter 1

“Are there any hunters that actually live by the freakin’ code?” Stiles grumbled to himself, as he tried to move quietly through the woods.

He had trailed the pair of hunters to the woods near the Hale house. Judging by their weapons, he guessed they weren’t paying a friendly visit. Derek may be a grumpy asshole who sucked at being an Alpha, but he didn’t deserve to be bisected. Hanging back, he tried Derek, Allison and Scott’s phones again. No answer. He didn’t have Chris Argent’s number, and he wasn’t going to call Jackson, ‘cos Jackson was a jerk. Lydia would just come and put herself in danger. Stiles sighed, then bit back a yelp and flailed, phone falling from his hand as Isaac dropped to the ground from a nearby tree.

“Dude there are hunters here!” Stiles whispered. “Where are the others?”

Isaac looked unimpressed, yellow wolf eyes glinting under his blonde mop of curls.

“I’m aware. Boyd and Erica are on a date and not answering. Not sure where Derek is. Or Peter.”

He sounded a little sad, and Stiles felt sorry for him. After his crap father, Isaac deserved a better family than Derek’s dysfunctional pack. Stiles ran his fingers through his hair, trying to think. If Scott and Allison were making out with their phones off, Stiles was going to kill them.

“There’s only two, I can handle them,” Isaac said stoutly, flexing his claws.

Stiles rolled his eyes.

“You have no idea how-“

An arrow sprouted from Isaac’s thigh and he groaned, falling to his knees as that leg collapsed. Stiles started forward to help him, cursing himself for not paying better attention- the hunters must have doubled back. Another arrow thunked into Isaac’s other thigh, and Isaac whimpered. Stiles heard leaves crunching underfoot, and he stood in front of Isaac protectively, wishing he hadn’t left his baseball bat in the car.

“Just go,” he heard Isaac murmur.

Stiles ignored him. He was so going to have words with Derek about his failure to protect his pack next time he saw him. Two men approached, one holding a bow, the other a gun. Stiles watched them warily, his knees shaking a little with adrenalin. Not fear. Adrenalin.

“Well what do we have here?” the hunter with the bow said, cocking his head slightly at Stiles.

He dropped his bow and drew a knife from his belt, approaching the two boys. Isaac growled as the man got close to Stiles. The knife flashed out, and Stiles gasped as it cut a  slice across his cheek. Blood started dripping down his face, and the man grabbed his jaw, turning it to show the other man. Stiles grabbed the man’s wrist, but couldn’t make it budge.

“Yup, he’s human,” the man confirmed, nodding at the gun man. “Why are you protecting the animal?”

“You mean the teenager?” Stiles gritted, still trying to pull the guy’s hand off his face. That grip was going to leave bruises. “I don’t know, why are you trying to kill him? Don’t you guys have a code? Or is that too old-fashioned nowadays?”

Isaac growled again, and the man holding Stiles hefted the knife in his other hand, preparing to throw. Stiles lashed out with his sneakered foot and managed to get the guy in the groin. The grasp on his face dropped and Stiles tried to grab the knife. He was knocked to the ground for his efforts, and the man started kicking Isaac in the face. Stiles started to scramble to his feet, but someone grabbed the back of Stiles’ hoodie and wrenched him up from the ground, an arm pulling the boy against him. Stiles felt cold metal press against his neck and he stopped trying to pull away.

Isaac had passed out, his face a bloody mess. Stiles felt his stomach tighten and cramp with fear as he saw how still the boy was. The man left Isaac and turned to Stiles.

“Where is the alpha?”

Stiles glared at him, trying to ignore his heart beating a million miles an hour.

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be in the woods following you.”

The man continued to stare at him consideringly. Stiles didn’t like it.

“Let’s take them both,” the man said finally, addressing the one holding Stiles. “The alpha has to at least care about one of them.”

He turned to Isaac’s body, pulling his wrists together and tying them together with rope. Stiles winced as he saw smoke rising from Isaac’s wrists, guessing the ropes had been soaked in wolfsbane. The man picked up Isaac’s limp body and slung him over his shoulder, stooping to retrieve his crossbow. Stiles was pushed face-first into a nearby tree trunk and his arms pulled behind his back, wrists tied.

“Ow,” Stiles said faintly. “Dude, it’s a bad idea to use us as bait. The alpha isn’t that stupid.”

The man behind him snorted, pulling Stiles off the tree to stumble along in front of him, heading for the Hale house.

“You think we should just kill you then?”

Stiles frowned. “Um, no. Forget I said anything. We’re totally bait. Why do you want the alpha anyway? He hasn’t done anything wrong- haven’t you talked to Argent? He’ll set you straight, you should go talk to him right now, we’ll just wait here-“

The man behind him cuffed him across the back of the head.

“Shut up.”

Sometime later they reached the burnt out shell of the Hale house. Stiles heard Isaac whimper, and begin to stir. The hunter carrying him dumped him on the floor, pulled a container out of his jacket, and started shaking a circle around the hurt werewolf. Stiles didn’t like how prepared the hunters were, with their handy mountain ash. It didn’t bode well.

Stiles was pushed to the floor and held still by the man with the gun while the other man shook the ash in a large circle around Stiles and his captor. The boy noticed that he kept the line out of reach of Stiles’ feet. Damn. The man with the ash stood next to Isaac’s circle and made another small circle around himself.

“That’s not going to keep me in you know,” Stiles remarked to the guy holding him.

The man casually belted Stiles in the face with his gun. Stiles gasped in pain.

“Asshole!”

“It’s not keeping you in, idiot. It’s keeping the alpha out.”

The hunter with the knife grinned.

“And now it’s time to get his attention.”

 He leaned forward into Isaac’s circle, where the boy was trying to open his eyes, half hidden under a crust of dried blood. The arrows were still in Isaac’s legs, and blood ran sluggishly down his jeans. Stiles winced. The hunter stabbed his knife into Isaac’s shoulder, wrenching it out with a twist. Isaac bared his fangs and howled, his cry ringing in Stiles’ ears.

“Leave him alone!” Stiles yelled, trying to move towards the line of ash.

The hunter got behind Stiles and grabbed him around the waist, pulling him to his feet and pressing the gun back to his throat. Stiles growled with frustration, stupid human useless body! He needed to do something, he had to help, Derek couldn’t walk into this-

An answering roar shook the walls of the house, and Derek bounded into the room, all wolfed out, eyes glowing red with fury.

“Stop right there,” the hunter holding Stiles said, grabbing the boy’s hair and digging the gun barrel in further.

Stiles let out a pained hiss, and Derek growled. Slowly, he stood up on two legs, and glared at the hunters. Stiles saw his eyes flick to the mountain ash circles, over to Isaac, back to Stiles.

“Let them go now, and I’ll rip your throats out,” Derek snarled.

The man holding Stiles sniggered.

“Don’t you mean, or?”

Derek stared at him stonily.

“No.”

The man in the circle next to Isaac lifted his crossbow, smirking.

“You’re going to stand there and let me shoot you. Or I will cut the wolf’s eyes out. And my friend over there will blow the human’s face off.”

Derek’s fists clenched, and he growled in frustration. Obviously he hadn’t planned on facing ash circles when he made his dramatic entrance. If Stiles survived this he was going to have to teach Derek some strategy. Derek was not going to die, dammit. His mind raced, trying to think of some way to put the circles out of commission. The hunter started loading a bolt in the crossbow. Crap hurry up Stiles. Suddenly a memory leaped out at him, outside the gay club, pouring out the ash circle, breaking it for Derek. He hadn’t touched it to make it move. Deaton said that he was a spark. Whatever that meant, cryptic bastard. But he had moved the ash without touching it, so he could do it again. Stiles just had to believe, and he could do that, he did it before. He just had to move more than one ash line.

Staring fiercely at the ash in front of him, Stiles tried to add to his mind the picture of the other two circles, the ones holding Isaac and the hunter. The hunter holding him had relaxed a little, the arm around Stiles’ waist holding him lightly. The other hunter lifted his crossbow to aim at Derek.

Stiles tensed, flicking his eyes back up to Derek for a moment, catching his gaze, then looking down at the circles. That was all the prior warning he could give. He heard the “chunk” of the crossbow firing, Stiles concentrated and pictured all the ash lines breaking, pushing them apart in his mind. He felt something surge, saw the ash line in front of him break. Stiles let himself become dead weight and slid to the floor out of the hunter’s grasp. Derek roared, ran and jumped over Stiles, tackling the hunter to the ground. Stiles glanced over to see Isaac falling onto the hunter with the crossbow to the ground, tearing out the guy’s throat with his teeth. Stiles flinched as he felt warm blood spray across his head and guessed that Derek had done the same to the hunter behind him. He wriggled a bit on the ground, pulling against the ropes that still tied his wrists.

“Derek? Can you untie me?”

Stiles’ voice sounded shakier than he had planned. Suddenly Derek was leaning over him, his light green eyes looking searchingly into his face. Stiles’ stomach felt strange all of a sudden. Derek gripped his jaw, staring at the cut on Stiles cheek.

“They hurt you,” he growled.

Stiles tried to shrug.

“I’m okay dude. It’s just a cut, I’m fine. Isaac is worse.”

Derek glanced over to Isaac, where he lay on the ground next to the dead hunter. Isaac met their gaze, giving him a shaky smile.

“I’d give you a thumbs up, but...”

Stiles sniggered.

Abruptly Derek pulled Stiles into a sitting position, and slashed through the rope on his wrists. Stiles brought his arms back around to his front, giving Derek a grateful smile.

“Thanks man.”

Derek gave Stiles a strange look, then moved over to Isaac, pulling the arrows out of his legs and slicing through his bonds. Isaac gasped a little, wincing as the arrows pulled out. Stiles ambled over to join them.

“We should take you to Deaton’s, just in case they were wolfsbane tipped arrows,” Stiles said to Isaac, then realised that Derek was standing a little stiffly, with his hand pressed to his side.

“They were,” Derek replied quietly, blood dripping through his fingers.

“Wait what you’re hurt too!” Stiles exclaimed worriedly, moving closer to Derek. “Let me see.”

“It’s fine, let’s go,” Derek grumbled.

Stiles ignored him and lifted Derek’s shirt to see a hole in his side. Derek growled and pushed his shirt down.

“Stiles!”

Stiles’ phone rang. Which was interesting, as Stiles was sure he had left it in the forest. He looked to Derek.

“Your pants are ringing.”

Derek scowled. “I found it on the way here.”

He pulled Stiles’ phone out of his pocket and handed it over. Stiles looked at the screen before taking the call.

“Buddy! About time you called! Yeah I was just being held captive by hunters, no biggie. Stop turning your phone off so you can make out in peace! Not cool! Derek and Isaac are here, we’re heading over to Deaton’s to fix them up- yeah they’re hurt. No I’m fine. You can come over to the Hale house and bury some hunter bodies for us. Yup. Why don’t you call Chris- have some family bonding time. Hey that was totally funny. Alright I’ll see you later.”

Stiles slipped his phone into his pocket, and pulled Isaac’s arm across his shoulder to help him up. Derek silently supported Isaac’s other side, and they headed to the jeep.

***

Stiles paced the floor of his bedroom, turning a baseball over and over in his hands. He’d finally made it home around 2 am after seeing Deaton, but he couldn’t sleep. A line of tape covered the cut on his cheekbone now, and he had a shower to get rid of all the dirt and blood.

He kept seeing Isaac’s battered face, bearing Deaton’s attention stoically as the vet cleaned it. His eyes brimming with tears as Deaton pressed the burning wolfsbane ashes into the arrow holes. Derek had gripped Isaac’s shoulder, holding him still. The alpha made sure Stiles was checked over first, then Isaac. Derek tended to his own wound, Stiles wincing as the alpha ground the burnt wolfsbane into the hole in his side. Isaac had passed out again by this stage, and Derek carried him out to Stiles’ jeep. Stiles kept trying to talk to Derek on the drive to his loft, but Derek ignored him, apart from a gruff “next time you see hunters Stiles, don’t follow them.”

Stiles’ hands shook, and the ball dropped to the floor. Derek could have died. Isaac could have died. If he hadn’t been there, Isaac would have stayed trapped in that circle. If one of his friends had just answered their fucking phone when he called the whole thing could have been avoided. Stiles ran his long fingers through his hair, tugging it in frustration. Something had to change. No one was communicating with each other, people were being put in danger, surely this wasn’t how a pack was run. He had to fix this.  

Stiles slumped into his computer chair, opened up a new document and began typing feverishly. The current state of the pack was unacceptable. They needed a plan. And if there was one thing Stiles was good at, it was making plans. And talking people into the plans. Okay, so two things.

Chapter 2

Summary:

Stiles starts to put his plan into motion.

Stiles stumbled out of bed the next morning, his face throbbing with pain. Luckily (or maybe not so luckily), he was used to being beaten up by now, and had painkillers stashed in his top drawer. A long shower, and he was ready to go. Sitting back down at his computer, he read through all the info he had accumulated last night on pack behaviour. Stiles' google-fu was good, but he wasn’t sure how much of the info was accurate. He couldn’t ask Scott, since Scott knew nothing. Ditto the other betas. Stiles sighed, drumming his fingers against the keyboard. He was going to have to approach Derek. Or Peter. Neither option screamed 'yay!'

He jumped up and went downstairs to grab some breakfast. This kind of decision needed a full stomach. Sun shone through the kitchen window as Stiles waited for his pop tarts to cook. He didn’t need to check the roster on the fridge to know that his Dad was working this weekend- which was great, as he wouldn’t have responded well to Stiles’ bruised and taped up face. Knowing what Stiles did now was good for Stiles, but it didn’t seem to make his Dad any happier.

Mouth full of sugary goodness, Stiles raced back to his bedroom and started printing out the information, then fell on the bed to think. Derek or Peter? Okay, so what if he asked Derek? He’d be grumpy, and may not answer anything. Though what he did answer would probably be the truth. He might resent Stiles interfering in pack business, might forbid him from doing it. Not that it would deter him, but it would be some extra angst to push through. Peter might give him the wrong answer just to fuck with him, plus the creepiness factor. But Peter had a lot of information about stuff- he knew about the kanima, and Derek mentioned that Peter had a laptop of info that Stiles itched to get his hands on. And Peter had more experience at being in a pack, back when he was more sane. Which was hard to imagine.

Stiles made his decision. Pulling out his phone, he sent off a text.

Need to meet with you and ask some questions. Where can I find you?

The phone beeped while Stiles was pulling his shoes on.

Oh really? Interesting. Bring some breakfast with you.

Stiles programmed the address following the message into his phone, and hurried down to the jeep. A short time later, he was knocking on the door of an apartment downtown, juggling coffees and a bag of assorted pastries in his hands.

The door swung open to reveal Peter standing there, dressed in his usual v-neck shirt and long pants. He gave Stiles an unsettling smile.

“Come in,” he offered, standing aside to let Stiles move past him.

The teenager looked around curiously. The apartment was simple, a combined lounge room/dining area, with doors leading off from it. The décor was modern but cosy, with warm toned carpet and walls, a woven rug and sleek maroon-red leather armchairs. Bookshelves were set against any available wall, stuffed full with a variety of books. Stiles dumped his food on the wooden surface of the coffee table, taking a coffee and pastry and settling into one of the armchairs. Peter followed suit, sitting across from Stiles and staring at him. Stiles’ knee jiggled as he sank his teeth into the pastry, dropping flakes all down his shirt. The flakes dropped to the couch cushions and Peter winced.

“So,” Stiles began, his mouth still full of pastry. He wasn’t quite sure how to begin.

Peter raised an eyebrow.

“Stiles you were the one who wanted to meet me here without anyone else around. I’m intrigued as to what you felt you needed to discuss with me in secret. Have you changed your mind about the bite? My offer still stands.”

Stiles choked on his pastry.

“What? No! I don’t want the bite, I want your brain. I mean I want to pick your brain. And your laptop full of exposition that Derek told me about.”

Peter smirked. “You want my brain AND my laptop?” He looked Stiles up and down. “Are you sure that’s all you want?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. As if he wasn’t painfully aware of his own lack of charms.

“Don’t be a creeperwolf. You know the pack isn’t functioning that well, you’re forever letting Derek know. I think if we had a centralised database of information it would help a lot. Do you disagree?”

Peter sighed. “What’s the point of secret meetings if we don’t do anything clandestine?”

He waited for a reaction from Stiles, who just continued staring at him expectantly. Peter took a bite of his pastry.

“Fine, I don’t disagree. You may ask your questions, and borrow my laptop for one week, on the condition that you owe me a favour to be collected at my discretion.”

Stiles’ honey-brown eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“As long as it’s nothing that will hurt the people I know or put them in danger.”

Peter smiled. “Done.” He leaned back in his chair, taking a sip of coffee. “Ask your questions.”

Stiles pulled a notebook and pen out of his hoodie pocket, and gazed at Peter expectantly.

“Okay, first question. Tell me everything you know about pack behaviour and how a healthy pack operates.”

Peter snorted. “Well that will be a long answer.”

Stiles shrugged. “Hence the notebook.” He wiggled it. “You’re the one who keeps saying you can run a pack better than Derek- dazzle me with your wisdom.”

Peter smirked, settling back into his armchair.

“Very well. First of all, a healthy pack are physically comfortable with each other.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “How comfortable?”

“We all need frequent sex to stay connected,” Peter deadpanned.

Stiles’ mind boggled as he considered the logistics of sorting that out.

“I can see why no one’s feeling connected then. You’d need some sort of a spreadsheet to keep track of that...and,”

Peter laughed. “Stiles I’m not serious.”

He leant forward and placed his hand on Stiles’ knee. The boy jumped, and Peter looked amused as he withdrew it.

“That’s about the level of comfortable. It’s not sexual. Touching comforts us, shares our scent with each other and helps us bond. Think of it as post coital snuggles without the coitus.”

“Well thanks for that mental image,” Stiles muttered as he scribbled in his notebook. He couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to touch Peter, or Jackson. He wondered if that was why Derek kept shoving him into walls.

As the morning crept on, Stiles was surprised to find that Peter was a mine of information and that he seemed willing to share it all with Stiles. His notebook filled up quickly, Peter taking full advantage of his captive audience. Finally Peter slowed down and went to fetch the laptop.

“Thanks dude,” Stiles said, slinging on his bag and taking the laptop from Peter’s hands.

Peter smiled. “I’m interested to see what you’re planning Stiles. For a human, you have a remarkable ability to surprise me.”

“Thanks, I guess?”

Stiles left the apartment with the laptop, a warm feeling of accomplishment lending an extra bounce to his step. He was all over this, their pack was going to be awesome in no time. His phone buzzed as he was loading the laptop into the car.

Dude, what ru up 2? Wanna hang out?

Stiles grimaced at Scott’s text-speak, and the invitation. He had a plan for Scott, but it was too early to start- he had all the laptop info to collate first. He sent back a quick reply.

Sorry bro, need to catch up on some homework. Tonight?

Yeah cool.

Stiles dashed into his bedroom, getting the laptop set up and porting files over to his computer. There was an email waiting for him from Lydia.

Alright Stiles, I can translate it. It will take me a few weeks, and you’ll owe me.

Stiles grinned, sending Lydia the entire Bestiary file. Thank god for Lydia’s ability to translate ancient Latin. Stiles pulled his phone out and rang Danny.

“Yeah?” Danny’s voice sounded suspicious.

“Hey buddy, it’s Stiles, just wanted to ask a favour. Can you walk me through setting up a database?”

There was a considering silence on the other end.

“Why do you need a database?”

“Um...I just have a bunch of info I need to organise.”

“It’s a bit complicated to explain over the phone. I guess I could come over if it was really important.”

“No!” Stiles squeaked. “Uh, I mean, you don’t need to do that. Just give me some basics.”

Danny sighed.

“This is werewolf stuff, isn’t it.”

Stiles squeaked and dropped the phone. Crap. That was real smooth. Hastily he grabbed it off the floor and held it back to his ear.

“Ah Danny, sorry the phone slipped. How did, I mean what?”

“Stiles, it’s Beacon Hills. I’m not stupid.” Danny sounded amused.

Stiles sighed. “Fine, I just...ugh come over if you want.”

“You’re the one that called me, needing help,” Danny pointed out, before hanging up.

 Stiles stood frozen for a moment, before ringing Scott.

“Dude, Danny knows.”

There was silence as Stiles waited for Scott to make the right connections.

“Duuuude. He knows?”

“He knows, buddy.”

“What did you say?”

Stiles spluttered. “I didn’t say anything! He already knew!”

“It’s good he knows though, yeah? Danny’s cool.”

Stiles grinned at Scott’s optimism. “Yeah you know what, you’re right. Danny’s smart. Not that I care about Jackson’s feelings, but it’ll be good for him to have someone he can talk to about the supernatural stuff.”

Scott made a pleased noise. “That’s right. Now we both have our best friends to talk to!”

Stiles chuckled. “Ok dude, I’ll see you later.”

Hanging up, his stomach growled. Stiles hurtled downstairs to the kitchen to make up a plate of sandwiches for lunch, he figured Danny would appreciate them too. He heard the knock on the door as he pulled some sodas out of the fridge. Stiles ran to open the front door.

“Hey man, I’ve got some lunch, if you want to help me carry it upstairs.”

Danny smiled, dimples showing, and Stiles was again reminded of what a good-looking guy he was.

“Sure.”

Stiles stuck the plate on his desk, and Danny handed him a soda. Stiles slumped into his computer chair, pushing the other one with his foot.

“Sit down man, I guess we should address the wolf in the room?”

Danny sat, looking amused.

“Jackson and Scott are werewolves, yeah? What else do I need to know?”

Stiles shook his head. He really had been underestimating Danny’s intelligence.

“So are Isaac, Erica, Boyd and Miguel, who isn’t my cousin by the way, he’s Derek.”

Danny laughed. “Well the way you looked at him when he took his shirt off made it clear he wasn’t your cousin.”

Stiles choked on his sandwich. “What?! I wasn’t looking! He’s...he’s grumpy. And socially challenged. And way too eager to do violence to my person!”

Danny smirked. “Ever wonder why that is?”

Stiles scowled, and ignored the comment. Danny didn’t know what he was talking about.

“Look dude, how involved do you want to be in this whole supernatural thing? You can just walk me through the database setup, or I can tell you what’s going on.”

Danny met his gaze calmly.

“I’ve been thinking about it, ever since I figured out my best friend was a werewolf. And he was something else for a while too, wasn’t he? I was just keeping my head down, and trying to survive high school, you know? But Jackson was going through all this shit, and he couldn’t talk to me about it because I was too busy looking after my own skin. And that was a dick move on my part. So yeah, I want in Stiles. I want all in.”

Stiles grinned. “Welcome to the pack.”

Notes:

I have a Teen Wolf tumblr now, so you can find me at https://www.tumblr.com/blog/sparkofstiles

Chapter 3

Danny not only helped Stiles set up the database, he volunteered to input the data from the Bestiary. Stiles jumped at the chance to do a little less data entry, assuring Danny that he’d send him each page as Lydia translated it. A few hours later, Danny stood up to leave.

“Don’t tell Jackson I know yet, I want to be the one to tell him.”

“Worried about how he’ll react?”

Danny laughed. “No, I just want to see his face when he realises I’ve been keeping a secret from him for a change.”

“Tonight!” Stiles blurted. “We’ll have a movie night at my house, invite the pack. You could tell him then?”

Danny’s dark eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled at Stiles.

“You just come up with that?”

Stiles rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, kinda? It was in the plan, I’m just moving it forward.”

Danny shrugged. “Sounds good. See you then.”

Stiles pondered his next move. Movie night sounded easy, but getting all the pack to agree to come was the tricky part. He’d best start with the easiest guy.

Scott was still home, and answered the door with a grin.

“Dude! How did it go with Danny?”

Stiles smiled, and walked in, heading up to Scott’s room.

“Awesome. Danny’s on board, wants in on our pack stuff. You can’t tell Jackson yet though. Danny’s gonna tell him at movie night, which is tonight so you have to come, and bring Allison.”

Scott frowned, plonking down on his bed while Stiles slid into a nearby computer chair.

“So is it a pack thing? Will Derek be there?”

Stiles sighed inwardly. He knew Derek would be Scott’s sticking point. Well too bad. Time to be tough love Stiles.

“I hope so, I’m asking him next. Everyone is coming, ‘cos we need to hang out as a pack and work through some stuff. And don’t give me that frowny face dude, you did a shit thing to Derek, and avoiding him isn’t going to fix anything.”

Scott looked shocked, and annoyed.

“I SAVED us Stiles, if I hadn’t done that, Gerard would have won. He would have killed us. He beat you up, he was willing to kill Allison, he...”

“Yeah and you’ve never asked how I was after getting kidnapped and beaten up,” Stiles pointed, unable to stop some bitterness seeping into his tone. “But this isn’t about Gerard. Derek has done nothing but try to help and protect you, and you repaid him by lying to him, and forcing him to give his enemy the bite against his will. That isn’t cool Scott. Derek just keeps getting hurt over and over and he still sticks around and tries to help, and you should be grateful!”

Stiles stops short, his heart thumping too fast and his eyes hot with unshed tears. That was way past what he’d meant to say. That anger had just come out of nowhere. Scott’s puppy eyes were huge and shocked, his hand half outstretched towards Stiles.

“Stiles, I...I’m sorry. I never meant to...I care about you. I’ve been a crap friend.”

Stiles sighed, his body slumping. “Yeah, you have. But I shouldn’t have yelled at you, I’m sorry.”

Scott looked uncomfortable. “Maybe... maybe you’re right about Derek. I’ll come to movie night, ok? I’ll try to bring Allison.”

Stiles nods, and stands up. “Well I’ve got a few stops to make, so I’d better...”

Scott jumped up and caught Stiles up in a hug. “I’m sorry.”

Stiles relaxed a little. Scott always gave good hugs. “It’s ok man.”  

Back in the jeep, Stiles sat for a bit, still reeling from that conversation. He needed to be calm in order to talk to Derek. He sat there long enough to realise that he was entering the avoidance stage. Stiles sighed. He had no idea how this conversation was going to go. But he had to try. Derek needed them, even if he would never admit it. If he could get Derek to agree to go, he’d make sure his betas would too. Lydia would agree once he explained it, and she’d bring Jackson. Stiles didn’t know if Peter would even want to attend, but he wasn’t sure if he cared to try. Best to get the pack working functionally before they added in a murdering psychopath who liked to push people’s buttons.

“Just start the car,” Stiles muttered to himself.

*          *            *

Stiles knocked on the large sliding door to Derek’s loft, palms sweaty with nervousness. The door pulled open to reveal Isaac, who stared at Stiles curiously.

“Hi man, you’re looking better,” Stiles said, walking past Isaac into the room.

Isaac smirked. “I’m a werewolf,” he replied, as if that answered the question. Stiles realised that yeah, it kind of did.

Derek was sprawled out on the couch, reading a book, looking none the worse from last night’s encounter. He was wearing a deep green sweater, and his dark hair was all rumpled. Stiles stared, until Derek looked up and captured his gaze with his green eyes.

“Are you here for a reason?”

“Um.  I mean yes! Totally here for a reason dude, you guys have to come to our movie night, at my house, everyone’s gonna be there and there’s gonna be snacks and a movie and like a group hang you know, you guys don’t have a tv here so it must really suck and, um yeah. You have to come.”

Isaac looked pleased. “Ok. Are Boyd and Erica invited too?”

“Absolutely yes. Tell them.”

Stiles went back to staring at Derek, willing him to answer. Derek sat up and closed his book, not looking at Stiles. Stiles’ heart sank.

“A movie night, did you say? Why Stiles, I’d be delighted to come.”

Stiles looked up at the new voice, and saw Peter making his way down the stairs. Stiles frowned at Peter, who smirked back. He reached the living room floor and moved closer to Stiles, looking him up and down.

“At your house, I assume? You’ll have a lot of couples attending- you can sit with me if you get lonely.”

Stiles barely had time to roll his eyes at Peter before Derek growled, and rose to stand beside Peter.

“I’ll be there,” he grated, glaring at his uncle.

Stiles grinned. “Excellent! I will see you all later!”

He got out of there before he said or did something to mess it up and collapsed into his jeep. Stiles was so sure Derek was about to say no, he saw it in his eyebrows. He didn’t know why he’d suddenly agreed, but he wasn’t going to question it. One more thing left on his list for today before he went shopping for snacks for movie night. Stiles started the car, and headed for the Argent’s house.

Shifting from foot to foot, Stiles knocked on the Argent’s front door. If he’d timed this correctly, Allison would be with Scott, and Mr Argent would be home alone. The door opened to reveal Chris, who narrowed his eyes at Stiles suspiciously.

“Allison isn’t here,” he said slowly.

Stiles grinned nervously. “I know! I want to talk to you!”

Chris looked at him for a moment, before drawing back and letting Stiles walk inside. Stiles was pretty sure he heard a weary sigh as he headed past Chris to the living room, but he chose to ignore it. Stiles reached the living room, turned and faced the older man.

“Okay, so you need to explain to me why there were hunters in town last night.”

Chris frowned. “What?”

“It’s a simple question. Mr Argent.”

Stiles struggled not to fidget. He needed Mr Argent to take him seriously. Derek wasn’t going to voluntarily talk to him, and Chris was prone to violent reactions when it came to Scott. He might accept that Allison was dating Scott, but he didn’t like it.

“I didn’t know there were hunters here Stiles,” Chris admitted reluctantly. “Did something happen?”

“I nearly died, Isaac nearly died, Derek nearly died,” Stiles counted them off on his fingers. “So- not cool. If there are hunters in town, we’d appreciate a heads-up. Is it normal for hunters to rock up to Beacon Hills and not let you know?”

Chris was still frowning. “No. Hunters in another hunter’s territory should check in. They should have dropped by.”

“I’m guessing that isn’t a good sign then,” Stiles remarked.

Chris scrubbed a hand through his short hair. He looked tired.

“No it’s not. It’s possible that they don’t think I’m doing enough to keep the werewolves in check, and if they think I’m weak they might try and move in. Or they could have been hunters gone rogue. I’ll make some calls, see if I can find out anything.”

“And you’ll let me know what you find out,” Stiles prompted.

Chris sighed. “Stiles, you’re a sixteen year old kid. This isn’t your problem.”

“My friends, my problem,” Stiles said stubbornly.

He held his hand out. “I need your number, so I can call you if this happens again. And if I don’t hear back from you about this, I’ll come back.”

Chris Argent stared at Stiles like he was seeing him for the first time. Shaking his head, he pulled out his phone and handed it to Stiles, who programmed his number in and handed it back.

“Ok Mr Argent, I’ll be seeing ya,” Stiles turned to leave and tripped on the corner of the rug, thankfully collecting himself before he hit the floor. “Real smooth Stiles,” he muttered to himself as he headed back to his jeep.

Notes:

I just posted a new Teen Wolf fic if any of you are interested. I wrote it for Sterek Week, AltEra: Stiles the Werewolf Slayer. It was fun. ;-)

Chapter 4

Summary:

It's movie night at Stiles' house! Pack fun times ahead.

Notes:

I was hoping to get out a chapter before Christmas- just made it! Enjoy. :-)

Stiles realised that his lounge room was a mess and he had no snacks in the house, so after giving it a cursory tidy, he drove to the shops to pick up some essentials. Popcorn, caramel popcorn, corn chips and salsa, carrot sticks and hummus, chocolate in various forms, ice cream and soda all landed in his trolley, Stiles making a mental note to get the pack to chip in next time. This stuff was expensive. As he carried his bags back out to the jeep, Stiles felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. Dumping the bags in the backseat, he tried to look around without seeming too obvious.  

He couldn’t see anything much. The car park was starting to fill with shoppers, the light was fading into evening and nothing stood out as strange. Stiles wished he had werewolf level senses. Not the furry part though. Quickly he unlocked the jeep and jumped in, locking the doors. Sadly, this reaction was becoming automatic. Stiles considered ringing Scott, but decided against it. What was he going to say? I felt weird like someone was watching me? No, nothing happened. Stiles shrugged, and decided to think about it later. Right now, he had a movie night to get home to.

*          *          *

The knock on the door came as Stiles was in the kitchen.

“It’s open!” he yelled, opening the packet of corn chips and shaking them onto the plate with the salsa.

“You have a lovely home, Stiles,” came Peter’s voice from the kitchen doorway, making Stiles jump.

He turned to see Peter strolling through the doorway, followed by Derek. Peter looked around the kitchen, saw what Stiles was doing, and said, “I’ll go peruse your books, shall I?”

Stiles shrugged. “Whatever, man.”

Peter left, and Derek stepped awkwardly into the room. Stiles tossed him a packet of chocolate.

“Here dude, put this out on that plate for me.”

Derek obeyed, and then moved over to the carrots on the chopping board.

“Sticks?”

“Um, yeah,” Stiles said, staring at Derek handle the kitchen knife.

Derek looked up at Stiles. “What?”

“Nothing, just you...can chop stuff pretty well. Do you cook much?”

Derek smirked. “What do you think I do Stiles, catch rabbits? I can cook.”

“So you cook the rabbits then?” Stiles deadpanned.

Derek huffed a laugh. “So what are we watching tonight?”

Stiles grinned. “Thanks to a promise that Scott made, and that I’ll hold him to- Star Wars.”

“Oh, the Phantom Menace? I like that one,” Derek said.

Stiles gasped theatrically. “You what?! First of all, you like Star Wars?! Second of all, what the hell dude?! How could you say that! Original trilogy or nothing man! How can you-“

Derek snickered, and Stiles stopped.

“Wait what? You were joking weren’t you? You just made a joke. YOU made a joke. What.”

Derek huffed a laugh, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards.

“Did I break you?”

Stiles grinned back, feeling his face warm. “Nope, no you’d have to try harder than that. Sourwolf is a nerd, huh? I love it.”

His nerves fizzing for some unknown reason, Stiles grabbed the plate of chips and walked to the TV room. Derek followed him with the carrots and dip. Peter was sprawled in the best armchair, reading a book. He looked up as Stiles entered, and said:

“Your other friends are arriving,” a moment before the doorbell rang.

Danny came in first, with several pizza boxes. Stiles gasped.

“Pizza! I love you dude!”

Danny laughed.

“Always thought you’d be easy, Stilinski.”

He looked past Stiles, and stopped. Stiles turned to see Derek scowling at Danny. Stiles nudged Derek in the bicep as he placed the snacks on the table.

“Cut it out, he’s friendly. Danny, you know Mi-ah-Derek. The other guy is Peter, Derek’s uncle. Both werewolves. Don’t trust Peter.”

Peter smirked. “Stiles, I’m hurt.”

Stiles looked unrepentant.

“Dude!”

Scott barrelled in the door, quickly followed by Allison. They both smiled nervously at Derek, and more genuinely at Danny. Scott side-eyed Peter, and shot an inquiring glance at Stiles. Stiles shrugged, and started opening the pizza boxes. Pizza was a good ice-breaker.

“Pizza time!” Stiles said cheerfully, grabbing some big slices of pepperoni.

The others followed suit, falling into various seats. Lydia stalked in the door, followed by Jackson, who had a sour look on his face. She glared stonily at Peter for a moment, then ignored him to head for the pizza. Jackson suddenly noticed Danny on the couch, and stopped short. Danny grinned, and waved.

“Hi man.”

Jackson shot a quick glance at the group, who all stared back innocently (except Peter, who had never looked innocent in his life).

“Hi,” Jackson said back weakly, his shoulders tense.

Erica, Boyd and Isaac walked into the room, taking the focus off Jackson for the moment.

“Pizza!” Erica crowed, heading for the table, Boyd following in her wake.

Isaac looked for Derek, and after finding him, moved to the pizza. He shot a quick glance at Allison and Scott as he passed. Stiles picked up his last slice and looked around for a place to sit.

“You can sit here,” Peter offered, patting the arm of his chair.

Stiles looked at him strangely. What was the guy up to? He heard a low growl, and looked at Derek, who was making space on the one of the couches, forcing Isaac, Danny and Boyd to inch up. Stiles shrugged, and headed over to Derek. He’d rather sit with Sourwolf than Creeperwolf. He slid between Derek and the arm of the couch. A little squashy, but not too bad. Derek’s thigh was pressed up against his. Stiles jiggled his leg nervously.

“You do this often?” Danny asked Jackson, who was squeezed on the other couch with Lydia and Erica.

Erica and Lydia were discussing make-up, and Lydia was informing Erica of the chemical breakdown and side effects of the popular brands.  

“Um..” Jackson said intelligently.

“We just started, but I’m thinking about doing them monthly,” Stiles interjected.

Danny grinned. “Oh right, so every full moon?”

“What?!” Jackson spluttered.

“That’s every month, right?” Danny said, smiling.

“Um, yeah I guess,” Jackson said, his voice cracking. “So who invited you?”

Danny paused, making Jackson wait. “Well, that’s really my business.”

Stiles stared at Jackson and Danny, taking notes. He’d never seen Jackson so thrown. Danny was doing great.

“You’re really not going to tell me?” Jackson, a note of outrage seeping into his tone.

“Nope, guess it’ll be my secret. Does that piss you off? Must be hard, having a secret you don’t tell anyone about.”

Jackson just stared at Danny, speechless. Stiles snickered. This was gold. Finally soft-hearted Scott caved.

“Dude?” he appealed, giving Danny his best puppy-dog eyes.

Danny sighed. “Fine. Jackson I know you’re a werewolf.”

Jackson’s pizza slice dropped to the floor, and he sat, frozen in his seat, with his mouth open in a most unattractive way. Stiles started chortling. He shot a quick glance at Derek, and saw him trying to hide a smile. Oh yesss dinner-time entertainment pulled through. Erica and Isaac were full-out laughing. Lydia tried to look concerned, but broke into a smile when Jackson wasn’t looking at her. Peter had his bored face on, but Stiles could see an amused glint in his eyes. Danny grinned at Jackson.

“C’mon dude, you know I’d have to give you some kind of payback for hiding it from me for so long. I was getting sick of pretending I didn’t know.”

 Jackson pouted. “You owe me another slice of pizza,” he muttered.

Danny fetched him another slice. Scott beamed at Danny.

“Welcome to the pack dude! Happy to have you and your mad computer skills on the team.”

Stiles gave Scott a grateful smile for acting like they were a cohesive team. Fake it til you make it, right?

“Alright settle down, it’s movie time!” he ordered, grabbing the remote and starting A New Hope.

Jackson groaned. “Ugh a nerd movie.”

“I know you wanted to watch The Notebook, but you’ll just have to contain your disappointment,” Stiles snarked.

Isaac sniggered, and Jackson subsided into a sulk.

As night went on, many of the wolves migrated to the floor. Boyd and Erica leant back against the couch, Erica sitting in Boyd’s lap. Lydia and Jackson snuggled on the couch. Danny sat on their couch too, on the end next to Peter’s armchair. Every now and then he and Peter would talk quietly about the movie. Allison and Scott migrated to the couch, with Isaac leaning on them (which Stiles found interesting). Stiles was still pressed against Derek’s side, and had noticed Derek’s body slowly relaxing after the end of the first movie. Maybe Peter was right about the pack touching thing. Stiles decided to contribute. He snuggled into Derek’s chest, lifting his arm and putting it round him. Derek looked down, startled.

“What? You’re comfy,” Stiles whispered.

Derek said nothing, but left his arm where Stiles had placed it, his fingers curled and resting on Stiles’ hip. Stiles felt a weird pang, along with some flutters in his stomach. Derek’s muscles were firm against his cheek, and Derek’s body heat radiated through the soft t-shirt he was wearing. Stiles felt strangely secure and comforted with Derek’s arm around him. Huh. Peter was definitely right about pack touching.

By the time the second movie finished, everyone seemed to relax. Jackson was engrossed in the trilogy and trying not to show it. Erica was braiding Lydia’s hair. Allison and Isaac were having a whispered discussion about whether bows were better than the laser pistols used in the movie. Scott snuggled between them, looking content. Boyd and Danny were parked on either side of Peter’s armchair, discussing which side they would have been on. Peter was offering suggestions on how Darth Vader could have improved his plan of attack.  Derek kept murmuring witty comments on the movie in Stiles’ ear, making him shiver (and chuckle). He didn’t realise Derek could be so funny.

By the end of the third movie, Stiles was asleep, mouth open, drooling a little on Derek’s t-shirt. The others stood up, and helped tidy up the TV room. Scott looked at Stiles, then at Derek.

“You need help with, ah-“

“I’ve got it,” Derek replied quietly.

Scott nodded, and smiled at Derek. He seemed to be warming up a little, Derek thought. He was expecting Scott to insist that he take Stiles up to bed. The rest of the pack filed out. Peter stood and looked down at sleeping boy, a predatory smile on his lips.

“I’ve got it Peter. Go home.”

Peter smirked, and headed for the door.

“Remember he’s underage, Nephew,” came his parting remark.

Derek snorted. As if he would take advantage of Stiles. Though the kid was hard to say no to- working himself up to saying no to movie night was a lot harder than he had expected. If Peter hadn’t tried to make a claim on Stiles he would have said no. Probably. He hated to admit it, but the movie night had been a good idea. They felt more like pack tonight than they ever had. Derek had given up trying, he saw that now. He looked down at Stiles, still drooling on his shirt. Long dark eyelashes touching the tops of those cheekbones, long clever fingers bunched in the t-shirt over his stomach. Derek smoothed Stiles’ hair back from his forehead absently. The boy didn’t even stir.

Carefully, Derek gathered Stiles in his arms and rose from the couch. Carrying him up the stairs, he headed for the door where Stiles’ scent was the strongest. Entering Stiles’ room, he laid Stiles on the bed. He had to work at untangling Stiles’ fingers from his shirt. Stiles murmured something unintelligible, turning into his pillow. Derek smiled, and let himself out quietly through the window.

Chapter 5

Summary:

Stiles needs answers. Deaton gets a visit.

Notes:

Sorry for the delay guys, my Masters degree has been stealing my writing mojo. Hope you enjoy this chapter.

Stiles awoke to the shrill noise of his ringtone. Fumbling on his bedside table, he realised it wasn’t there. And that he was still completely dressed. Oh. Reaching into his back pocket, he put the phone to his ear.

“What?” Stiles muttered sleepily.

“Dude!”

“Scott man it’s too early.”

Stiles sat up, wondering how he got in bed.

“I was checking you were okay!”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay? Wait, what happened last night?”

Last thing Stiles remembered was watching Star Wars.

“You fell asleep on Derek and he carried you to bed.”

Stiles concentrated on not dropping the phone as he took in this new information. That explained the still being dressed.

“Stiles? Stiles!”

“I didn’t drool on him did I?” Stiles asked suddenly, thinking of all the ways he could have embarrassed himself.

“That’s all that you’re worried about?”

Stiles shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re worried about dude. I woke up, still intact. Why you would think otherwise is beyond me.” He frowned. “Wait a minute. You let Derek take me to bed, even though you thought I wouldn’t be safe. Either you trust him or you don’t, you can’t have it both ways.”

“I didn’t, I mean, I would never put you in danger on purpose Stiles!” Scott said earnestly. “I just wanted to check.”

“Aha so you do trust Derek a little bit!” Stiles crowed.

Scott made a non-committal noise.
“Why were you like, cuddling him last night?”

Stiles smirked. Time for some education.

“Scotty, let me explain to you a thing called pack touching.”

After Stiles’ explanation, Scott was silent for a moment.

“Ooooh. That explains why it was so comfy sitting with Isaac last night!”

Stiles held in a snigger. He was pretty sure there was something else going on there.
“Sure buddy. Anyway, you woke me up, so…”

“Oh right. Ok I guess I’ll see you later?”

Stiles ended the call and clambered out of bed. Stripping off his clothes, he headed for the shower. He needed to be alert for the next part of his plan.

The jeep pulled up outside of the vet clinic, Stiles tapping his fingers against the wheel as he thought over what he was going to say. That was a lie. He didn’t know what he was going to say, he just knew what he wanted, and given that this was the last day before school went back, Stiles just needed to man up and do it.

Pulling in a steadying breath, Stiles flung open the door and walked inside the clinic. Thankfully, it was empty.

Deaton poked his head out.

“Stiles? What can I do for you?”

“We need to talk,” Stiles said quickly, moving through to the back. Deaton held the door open and let Stiles past, his face showing nothing, as usual.  

Stiles turned to face him.

“I want, no I need to know. You said I was a spark. What does that mean and how can I use it? I did something to the ash circles the other night with those hunters, you know I did. Why haven’t you said anything? What do you know?”

Deaton’s face stayed deadpan.
“It was unusual that one of the hunters could make an ash circle, you know. He must have some kind of magic user.”

Stiles waved his hands at Deaton in frustration.

“Stop changing the subject! Tell me about sparks! What kind of helpful druid guy are you?!”

“Druids help keep the balance Stiles,” Deaton intoned, his dark eyes looking amused.

Stiles stepped in close, hands clenched in frustration, and looked fiercely into Deaton’s dark eyes.

“It’s not going to work. I’m not leaving until you tell me. I am a Spark, and you’re going to tell me how I can use my powers! Dude, you do not want me to try stuff out on my own, ‘cos I will. And I’ll probably accidentally raise a fear demon. Or zombie cats. Or some kinda dancing demon that burns people. Or-”

“-all right Stiles.” Deaton smiled in a particularly annoying way. “I had to make sure you were serious, and that you were firm in your belief. Your powers work from belief, your will fuels it. You needed to be determined to pursue it further.”

Stiles pursed his lips, looking suspicious.
“Sounds a lot more like you were just trying to get me to jump through some hoops. You’re not the holder and dispenser of all knowledge you know. You shouldn’t try to hoard it.”

Deaton ignored him, turning to a locked cupboard on the far wall. Pulling out an old, leather-bound book, he handed it to Stiles.

“This is a collected work of all the Druids know about Sparks. Read it.”

Stiles took the heavy book, trying to hide his excitement. Yessss actual information! Research! He’s going to be a magical bad-ass!

“Thanks. I’ll be back with questions soon.”

Deaton sighed. “I know.”

Stiles raced back to the jeep, book in hand. He couldn’t wait to get home and start reading. A prickle ran across his back and shoulders and he wriggled as he pulled the seatbelt across his chest. This feeling again. He didn’t like it. Once again, he couldn’t see anyone or anything, but he felt like he was being watched. Internally shrugging, he started the jeep and headed for home. Maybe next time it happened and Scotty was around he’d get him to do some sniffing.

*    *    *

The first few days at school passed by slowly. Stiles studied the Spark book every night as well as doing homework, and the more he read it, the more frustrated he became. The book was an account of Sparks that the druids had encountered over the decades, and was frustratingly vague. The Sparks didn’t seem to have any common abilities, apart from the one that sensed danger to themselves or others close to them. Stiles renamed that ability “spidey-sense”, and raved excitedly on the phone to Scott about it. Which may explain the tickly feeling. Stiles wasn’t sure.

One school night found Stiles at his computer. Placing the Spark book down on his desk, Stiles entered some more notes. Once he had finished the book, Deaton was going to answer some of these questions.  

Suddenly his bedroom window pulled up, and Stiles flailed and fell off his chair as Derek hopped smoothly over the window sill.

“Dude! You could’ve knocked on the glass or something first!”

Derek smirked, standing over Stiles on the floor.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Stiles rolled his eyes, and rose to sit back on the computer chair.

“So what is it?”

Derek’s smirk turned into a frown.

“Scott said you were in danger.”

Stiles laughed. “Not exactly. Apparently I can sense danger now. My own spidey sense which is so cool man you don’t even know. So I’ve been getting this prickly feeling, like I’m being watched. But no danger happens, so I’m not sure.”

Derek’s frown turned thoughtful.

“I thought you did something to those ash circles that night. Are you a druid too?”

Stiles shook his head enthusiastically.

“No way, not like those vaguey guys at all. Apparently I’m called a Spark. And that’s all I know since this book isn’t really helping.”

Derek looked at the book Stiles had on the desk.

“Deaton gave it to you?”

Stiles nodded. “Yeah, but the thing is, no Spark seems to have the same abilities. I can’t figure out a pattern.”

“Maybe there isn’t one,” Derek offered, pulling a chair over to the desk and picking up the book. “Maybe the magic is different for each person.”

Stiles looked thoughtful. “That’s an interesting idea. Deaton said it was powered by my will, and I guess each person’s will is different.”

Derek shrugged. “Show me what you have so far.”

For the next few hours, Stiles showed and talked and Derek looked through the book, offering his own suggestions. Stiles couldn’t believe it. This was Derek from movie night again, being all intelligent and cool and interesting and stuff. He was good company. Stiles kind of missed the snuggling part from movie night. He guessed that the pack touching thing was in effect. Makes sense that once they started touching, the pack bond would want it continued. Stiles racked his brain trying to think of a pack touching thing he could do that didn’t seem weird. After a while, Stiles stretched theatrically, not having to fake a grimace as his neck twinged. He did spend a lot of time hunched over his computer.

“Derek my neck is killing me. Any chance you could massage some of the knots out?”

Derek looked at him strangely, but Stiles knew he wouldn’t have heard a lie ‘cos his neck really did hurt. Finally the wolf sighed.

“Fine.”

Stiles sat up straighter in his chair as Derek moved behind him and started kneading his shoulders. His hands were strong and warm, Stiles could feel their warmth through the thin fabric of his sleep shirt. Derek attacked the knots in his shoulders with skill, and Stiles let out a happy sigh.

“You’re really good at this.”

“I used to do it for my Mum sometimes,” came the quiet reply.

Stiles wasn’t sure how to react. Derek was sharing something personal with him, he didn’t want to mess up.

“I bet she appreciated it,” Stiles replied just as quietly.

Derek didn’t comment, but he didn’t stop with the massage. Stiles was feeling so relaxed he was surprised he hadn’t yet slid off his chair. Then Derek’s capable hands moved up to his neck and Stiles entered a whole new world of sensations. He managed to keep the “omg Derek don’t stop so good” to himself, but to his embarrassment, out slipped a loud moan. Derek’s hands stuttered across his skin, but he didn’t stop rubbing his hands across Stiles’ skin and pressing firmly into his neck muscles. Stiles tried to go along with the non-reaction, but another moan burst out when Derek hit a sweet spot. His phone began ringing, and as Stiles grabbed it off the desk, Derek headed for the window.

“I’ll just…ah see you later,” he mumbled, his voice strangely husky.

Stiles gave him a wave as he put the phone to his ear, thankful to be saved from further embarrassment by Chris Argent.

“Yeah?”

“I’ve been looking into those hunters,” Chris began, his tone reluctant.

“What do you know?” Stiles said, trying to sound all adult and professional.

“The good news, is that they’re not official. The hunter community isn’t challenging my territory. They’re rogue hunters.”

“And the bad?”

“There were more than three of them.”

“Well, crap.”

Chapter 6

Notes:

Warning- this chapter has a cliffhanger ending (so if that stresses you out too much, you might want to wait for the next update). :-)

Stiles slept uneasily that night. There was no obvious reason to suggest that the hunters were after him, there were no hunters left alive from the last encounter to tell on him, but that didn’t explain away his spidey-sense tingling occurrences. He couldn’t even do an ash-circle to keep them out. He’d let Scott and Derek know the news via text. Scott had immediately suggested he come over, but Stiles wasn’t in the mood for his company. He wasn’t sure why. Derek had sent back a “Thanks for letting me know” reply and nothing else, which left Stiles feeling miffed. He’d rated a window climb through at the first hint of danger and now nothing?

He tossed and turned, dozed and woke, and finally got up at 6am. Padding over to the window, he pulled it up, and was startled by a rustle in the oak tree nearby. Stiles strained blurry eyes, and huffed a laugh.

“Have you been out there all night?”

Isaac scowled, running a hand through messy curls.
“No, Derek was here most of the night.”

Stiles beamed, feeling happier all of a sudden.

Isaac yawned.
“I’m catching a lift with you to school. Got some breakfast?”

Stiles nodded.
“Yeah, I can cook something. Come in the front door.”

The Sheriff didn’t bat an eye at Isaac appearing- he was used to it by now. Stiles explained the new development over breakfast, carefully not mentioning the danger involved, but his Dad didn’t miss much. He glanced at Isaac.

“You all keeping an eye on him then?”

Isaac nodded, mouth full of bacon.

“Chris- ah Mr Argent is on alert too. He said he’d come down to the station and let you know details.”

“Alright then, I’d better go. Take care, son. You too Isaac.”

Isaac looked surprised. Stiles hid a smile.

Free breakfast didn’t dissuade Isaac from sassing Stiles’ jeep, and they snarked companionably all the way to school. Stiles was quick to notice that there was either Scott or Isaac with him all the time. Allison seemed to be sticking with Lydia and Jackson. He texted Erica.

Stiles:  You have someone with Derek, right?
             The hunters were after him, not me.

Erica:  Boyd’s staying home today.
             I’m sure Derek would appreciate your concern. ;-)

Stiles rolled his eyes, and adjusted his heavy backpack. Heavy, as Peter’s laptop was inside. It was the last school day of the week, and he had copied all the information he needed. Time to return it, but he needed to do it without his guard. Peter hadn’t said he could share where he lived with others, and he didn’t want to piss Peter off while he was trying to improve pack relations. A text sent during lunch break ensured that Peter would be home after school was out. Stiles waited until the final bell rang, and he and Scott had reached the car park. Stiles suddenly face-palmed.

“Crap!”

Scott looked worried. “What is it?”

“I totally forgot my chem textbook from last period. Harris will bite my head off if I try to get it back.”

Scott smiled. “Dude, it’s fine. He hates me a bit less, I’ll get it for you. Wait here.”

“Thanks buddy!” Stiles smiled brightly, waiting for Scott to leave.

He drove quickly out of the car park, heading straight for Peter’s. He’d text an apology later. It was an easy drive to Peter’s, Stiles parking right out front. He still had trouble with Peter living in an actual house. It should be a lair or something. Walking up to the front door, Stiles’ back started to prickle. Hunching a bit, he knocked sharply on the door, his sense of something wrong getting stronger. The door swung open, and Peter stood in the doorway. Stiles gasped as the warning prickles shot up to a painful whine, and he didn’t think, just acted. He fell into Peter, trying to pull him down at the same time he heard a sharp cracking noise. Peter grabbed him, looking down at Stiles’ arm with an alarmed look on his face. Stiles had a second to think ‘huh, he’s acting like I got shot’ and suddenly his arm was on fire and he was collapsing on Peter for real.

“Shit!”

Another shot rang out.

Peter moved quickly, taking Stiles’ weight and pulling him through the doorway while slamming the door shut with his foot. Holding him up with one arm round Stiles’ waist, he slipped the backpack off his arms. Stiles whimpered as the strap caught his sore arm. Peter lay him down gently on the floor.

“Stiles you idiot,” Peter hissed, pulling off his shirt and pressing it to Stiles’ arm.

Stiles gasped in pain at the pressure, but was still thinking.

“They might come in.”

“I can hear them- they got into a vehicle and drove away,” Peter informed him, grabbing something soft and pressing it on and around Stiles’ leg.

Stiles didn’t realise there was a problem with his leg too.

“I’m a werewolf, I can handle some bullets. What were you thinking? And how did you know ahead of time?” Peter demanded, keeping a hand pressed to Stiles’ leg while pulling his phone out of his pocket with the other.

“Hunters. I can handle their wolfsbane better than you. I …have spidey sense now it’s a thing.”

Stiles drew in a shaky breath, trying not to set off a panic attack. Everything hurt so much.  

“Derek. Stiles is hurt. Shot. Yeah, hunters. Just get here! Bring Deaton to my place.”

Stiles heard Peter rattle off the address. Huh, so Derek didn’t know where Peter lived before.

“Your laptop is in my bag, you should get it out.”

Peter huffed a laugh. “Yes that’s the first thing I should do.”

Now the phone call was done, he had a hand on each of Stiles’ wounds, applying pressure.

“I guess I owe you a favour now,” Peter continued, looking down at Stiles and shaking his head.

Stiles was feeling dizzy and sick, but the word favour stuck in his head. There was something on his list for that, in case of Peter.

“Yes you do. So I’m calling it in now. You have to promise…to apologise to Lydia.”

Stiles shivered, and tried to keep his last meal down.

“What?”

It was hard to concentrate with the pain shooting up his arm and leg every time he or Peter moved even a little bit. But Stiles was stubborn.

“Apologise for all the crap you put her through. Sincerely, you have to actually mean it.”

“Alright Stiles. Assuming you live through this.”

Stiles’ face must have looked more alarmed than he meant to show, for Peter sighed and added “I’m reasonably sure you’re going to. Live.”

“I’m instantly reassured,” Stiles gritted, trying to keep as still as possible.

Stiles drifted in and out of consciousness for a while, but was abruptly jolted back at the sound of a door slamming open and a deep, angry growl.

“Derek stop- he’s keeping Stiles alive!”

That was Deaton’s voice.

“Yes Nephew, you wouldn’t want the boy to bleed out, would you?”

“Does Peter have another tone other than amused drawl?” Stiles thought.

He heard an amused snort. Huh, maybe that hadn’t been such a silent thought. He blinked his eyes, and suddenly there was a growling werewolf in his face.

“You can’t growl me better sourwolf,” Stiles murmured fondly.

“Stiles, I’m going to give you a shot of anaesthesia,” he heard Deaton say.

Stiles felt the sting (though it paled in comparison to his current pain issues). Derek was still looking down at him. His growl had faded to a whine. Stiles felt like whining himself. It wouldn’t sound as good as Derek’s version though.

“Stay?” Stiles said suddenly, struggling to keep his eyes open.

Derek’s worried eyes softened a little. He had pretty eyes.

“Of course.”

Notes:

I'm on holidays right now, so you won't have to wait too long for the next installment (hopefully)!

Chapter 7

“- should have been much worse, I,”

Stiles groaned, blinked his eyes as everything slowly spun into focus. He was lying on Peter’s couch. He tried sitting up, but his muscles twinged and ached and refused to respond. His arm and leg throbbed. Peter, Derek and Deaton were standing near him, watching him like he’d just interrupted something. Stiles could feel the pressure of a bandage on his arm and leg.

“So-“ Stiles said awkwardly. “I’m alive? How long was I out?”

Peter sighed. “I’m going to have to dry clean the carpet.”

Derek moved closer and sat on the armchair next to Stiles, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder.

“You were out for an hour,” Derek said quietly. “I called Scott and your Dad and they came over to check on you. They’re out looking for the hunters now. You’re supposed to call them when you wake up.”

Stiles shifted uncertainly. Derek’s hand was warm and comforting on his shoulder. There was still something. There was a weird vibe.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

Deaton approached Stiles and sat down opposite him. He looked weary, but that was all Stiles could pick up from him.

“The bullets that hit you didn’t go straight through you. They should have hit and splintered your bones and torn through muscle. The one in your calf hit a major artery. But when I started to examine you, the bullets were at the surface, ready for me to pull out. Your bones weren’t broken. You had lost blood, but your blood pressure wasn’t as low as it should have been. Stiles, you’re healing faster than anyone would expect.”

Stiles felt both relieved and confused.

“Well that’s good, I guess, though at the time it felt like that stuff was all happening. But you don’t know why?”

Deaton shook his head.

“Stiles, have you been trying out your Spark powers?”

Stiles glanced at Derek.

“No? We’ve- I’ve been trying to understand your stupid book. Powers seem to manifest differently for each Spark, yeah? Don’t see how that’s supposed to help. And why you couldn’t have just told me.”

Deaton smiled. “Knowledge is valued through discovery.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

Derek cleared his throat.

“Could Stiles be doing it unconsciously? Some of the Sparks in the book weren’t aware of their powers in the beginning.”

Deaton looked thoughtful.

“It’s certainly possible that Stiles’ spark power could be manifesting. Do you feel hungry Stiles?”

Stiles pulled a face. “Well yeah, but what does me being hungry have to do with Spark stuff?”

“Using your powers takes energy. If you’ve been using your power to heal yourself, then you need to replace that energy.”

Peter sighed, and started moving towards the kitchen. “And now I have to offer my food, I suppose.”

Stiles grimaced. “So my power might be healing? I was hoping for something a little more badass. And how can I do it on purpose?”

Deaton shrugged. “Most of that is up to you, Stiles.”

Stiles groaned dramatically, then stopped as Derek dropped the phone into his hand.

“Ring your Dad.”

“Look I’m still healing here, I can’t even sit up!”

“You don’t have to be sitting up to use the phone.”

Stiles pouted. Derek stared at him sternly until he started dialling.

“Stiles are you okay? How do you feel?”

“Like I got shot!” Stiles quipped, then added after he heard a resigned sigh, “honestly Dad I’m fine. We’re currently speculating over whether my magic is healing me.”

“All right, good. Now explain to me what the hell you were thinking, going off by yourself?”

“Um…like I was just going to run an errand real quick, and nothing would happen?”

“And how did that work out for you?” came the dry reply.

“Well I didn’t die?”

Stiles heard the Sheriff give an exasperated, weary sigh.

“Look Dad, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again. Have you caught them yet? Any signs?”

There was a short silence while Stiles waited for his Dad to decide to let it go for now.

“Nothing yet. Chris is helping, and Scott is with me. So don’t you dare go running off by yourself again.”

“Okay Dad. And you be careful too.”

Stiles handed the phone back to Derek.

“There. Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” Derek deadpanned.

 Peter entered the room, holding a bowl with steam rising from the top.

“Oooh is that food?” Stiles said eagerly.

He could smell tomato and garlic and his stomach growled. Peter handed Stiles a warm bowl of pasta covered with a rich bolognaise sauce. Derek helped him sit up and Stiles devoured the pasta. Gradually he noticed that the aching in his limbs were slowly abating.

“I’m feeling a bit better,” Stiles admitted. “Maybe I have been using magic.”

Deaton didn’t change expression, as usual. Derek looked annoyed, and Peter was smirking at Derek.

“Glad to see I can provide,” Peter said, glancing sideways at Derek, who looked ready to snarl.

Stiles handed the bowl to Derek.

“Thanks. I’m good to go now.”

Stiles swung his feet to the floor and stood up, then promptly collapsed into Derek’s arms. Derek scooped Stiles up in a bridal carry.

“Hey!” Stiles said indignantly. “I can walk! I mean, just give me a minute.”

Derek snorted. “Not likely.” He turned to Deaton. “I’m taking him to the loft. It’s not safe here.”

“Lead the way,” said Peter. “We can’t let any harm come to me, I mean, look at me.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

Deaton nodded, picking up his bag.
“I’ll let the others know. I have some things to research back at the surgery.”

Notes:

Hey everyone, I'm sorry this update took so long. My Mum died suddenly- we were very close and I just lost all my writing mojo. I'm trying to get back into it, but it may be a slower process than normal.

Chapter 8

Summary:

Stiles continues his pack improvement plan.

Notes:

Surprise! Thank you all for your kind messages about my Mum passing. I know it has been a while. I'm still hoping to finish this story.

Stiles made it through the door of the loft on his own steam. Mostly. Derek helped. Stiles had time in the car to whisper to Peter that he remembered what he said about a favour. No way Peter was wriggling out of apologising to Lydia. He wasn’t sure what Derek thought of it, but the man didn’t remark on it. Boyd, Erica and Isaac were home, and they’d made a bunch of sandwiches. Stiles fell into the couch and grabbed some, he was still hungry.

“So you got shot,” said Isaac.

Stiles pointed to his leg. “Looks worse than it is. I have healing powers now!”

Isaac grinned. “Is that all? So you can’t zap anybody.”

“Hey give me time.”

“Can you actually heal people?” Boyd asked skeptically.

Stiles shrugged. “In theory. I did it without thinking. I just need to figure out what it is I’m doing.”

Erica walked to the kitchen grabbed a knife, and sliced into her forearm.

“Erica!” Derek didn’t sound happy.

Boyd frowned, while Peter looked interested. Erica strode up to Stiles and sat down on the couch, dripping blood.

“Here you go Batman. Figure it out.” Stiles’ eyes went wide at the blood, and he laughed nervously.

“No pressure or anything.”

Erica shrugged. “I’ll heal it soon anyway. See if you can speed it up.”

Stiles held Erica’s forearm gingerly, trying to focus on the cut rather than the blood. It wasn’t easy. Erica’s cut started to close at the far edges of the wound. Stiles concentrated, trying to feel something. Erica’s arm was warm, her skin soft. The wound felt hotter, wrong. Stiles tried to imagine it closing up, the skin knitting together. The hot stripe down her arm being covered with the coolness of healing.

“It just felt weird,” Erica said.

Stiles put out his finger and drew it carefully down the cut, trying to imagine it cooling and closing. When he moved his finger away, the cut disappeared.

“Did I do anything?”

Erica nodded. “It closed quicker than normal.”

Stiles grinned. “Awesome.”

Derek sighed. “You shouldn’t be using your magic so soon after..” he gestured at Stiles’ leg.

“Just give me some more food, I’ll be good!” said Stiles cheerfully, ignoring the dizziness he was currently experiencing.

Derek reached into the kitchen cupboard and threw a packet of chips at Stiles.

“Thanks!”

Boyd sat down next to Erica, inspecting her arm. Isaac flopped into an armchair with a book. Peter moved to sit on the stairs. Stiles wondered if Peter chose that spot so he could be higher than everyone. Derek sat down next to Stiles, frowning at him.

“No more magic attempts for a while,” he said sternly. “You’ll wear yourself out.”

Stiles shrugged, his mouth full of potato chips. He jiggled his foot, trying to think of something to do, he was bored already. Finishing the chips, he wiped his hands on his jeans.

“You guys should do some fight practice or something.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” said Peter. “You all need some practice.”

Derek glared at Peter, while Erica jumped up. “Oooh can we?”

Derek sighed. “Fine. With hunters about, it’s probably a good idea.”

Stiles moved to join Peter on the steps, to get a good view of the room while Derek and the betas moved into position. Stiles looked sideways at him.

“You’re not helping?”

Derek snorted, from where he was setting up what looked like an obstacle course.

“Peter isn’t familiar with that concept.”

“I’m just allowing the Alpha to do his job,” Peter replied innocently.

“How thoughtful,” Derek deadpanned, walking to the end of the course and signalling Isaac to begin.

Each beta took turns running through the obstacle course and then attacking Derek. Stiles winced as each beta ended up flung into walls, floor or into each other.

Peter smirked. “You can hardly call it training,” he murmured to Stiles.

“If you think you can do better, you should be helping them,” Stiles shot back.

Peter shrugged. “I doubt Derek would accept my help.”

Stiles looked at him curiously. Peter’s tone sounded nonchalant, but he could see tension in the way Peter was holding himself. Stiles stretched and tried to match Peter’s careless tone.

“You know, I bet you have a lot of experience in that area. Watching this must be painful for you.”

Peter shot him an amused look. “You are not very subtle, Stiles.”

Stiles met his look and raised his eyebrows. “I’m not wrong, though.”

Peter made no reply to that, and Stiles decided it was close enough to agreement. He stood up, and tugged at Peter’s arm.

“Derek! Time for you to take a break- Peter is going to teach the betas some things now.”

Derek scowled, but as Stiles approached them with a reluctant Peter in tow, he stood aside.

“Fine.”

Stiles tried not to show the surprise on his face- he had been ready for an argument.

“Right- well why don’t you sit on the stairs with me and leave Peter to it.”

Derek followed him back to the stairs and sat next to Stiles, his side pressed against him. Peter gestured to the betas to come close.

“I can’t address all your issues in one training session, but let’s start with the basics, shall we. You all need to play to your strengths. Boyd, you’re holding back. You are strong, calm in battle, and able to plan- you should be thinking about strategy, and I will teach you some. Erica and Isaac, you both throw yourself into fighting, you need to harness that passion, use it better. Finally you all need to learn to fight together, instead of attacking singly. There is an advantage to pack numbers, but only if you use it.”

Stiles watched in amazement as Peter took the betas through some basic fight formations and had them practice. He could already see a difference, and so could the betas.

“Do you know he could do this?” Stiles whispered to Derek.

Derek looked pained. “I suspected.”

Stiles glanced at Derek’s unhappy face. “You know he has a lot of experience that he wasn’t offering you before. You are doing the best you can.”

Derek sighed. “I know. I just wish...I’m glad you pushed him Stiles.”

Stiles grinned. “Pushy bastard, that’s me.”

Derek watched the betas practice with Peter for a little while, then joined them. Amazingly Peter held back his usual snark and they managed to all practice together without any major issues. Stiles was gleeful on the inside. His stomach started growling, and Derek stopped.

“That’s enough for today, we should get dinner.” Derek looked at Peter. “Thank you.”

Peter smiled. “You’re welcome, nephew.”

“Right so this is happening at least every week!” Stiles announced from the stairs. “We should invite the other wolfies too.”

Derek said nothing, but nodded. Erica grinned and shoulder-bumped Boyd.

“That was fun!”

Isaac yawned. “Can we get Mexican?”

No one objected, and Derek pulled out his phone and started ordering. The others made their way to the lounge area and sprawled on the couches. Peter took an armchair.

Chapter 9

Summary:

The hunters continue to be elusive. Peter continues being a lovable asshole.

As the pack stuffed their faces with tacos and burritos, Scott and Stiles’ Dad joined them. John sank wearily into the couch next to Stiles, pausing to ruffle Stiles’ hair and accept a burrito.

“No sign of them. Chris has gone home to see if his contacts can dig up anything.”

Scott grabbed a taco and bit into hungrily. “I’m glad you’re feeling better dude,” he said, sound muffled by the food.

John looked at Stiles, who smiled at his Dad weakly. “I really am ok, Dad. Looks like my Spark powers include fast healing now.”

John frowned. “I’m glad to hear it, but you better not use that as an excuse to go jumping into trouble.”

Peter chuckled. “He knows you too well, Stiles.”

Derek added his scowl to John’s. Stiles snorted at the picture they made.

“You know me- totally sensible!” Stiles announced cheerfully, eating another taco.

Derek rolled his eyes. John glanced at Stiles.

“We should probably head home. I’ll need to drop you off at your jeep, since it’s still at Peter’s.”

Peter sighed. “I guess everyone knows where I live now.”

“But Dad, I just got shot, I should rest here,” Stiles whined.

“And now you have healing powers, so you should be fine,” John replied dryly.

He looked around the room. “Am I taking anyone else?”

Derek immediately stepped forward. “I’ll take first shift.”

Stiles grinned.

“Just drop me home if that’s ok,” Scott said, finishing his food.

Stiles made sure he left Peter’s laptop behind before made his way to John’s cruiser. Derek had already stolen the front passenger seat. Stiles figured out why when Scott kept giving him reproachful puppy eyes while they sat together in the back.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles said. “I didn’t know if Peter wanted you knowing where he lived so I figured it would be better to go on my own.”

Derek huffed from the front. “And that worked out so well for you.”

John looked amused.

Scot sighed. “Don’t do it again bro. Okay?”

“I will not go to Peter’s alone again,” Stiles said solemnly.

“You’re not going anywhere alone,” Derek added, scowling.

“Not even the bathroom?” Stiles said. “Inappropriate.”

Derek rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. Scott and Stiles exchanged fist bumps before they dropped Scott off. John dropped Stiles and Derek at Peter’s house, where Stiles drove them both back to his house.

At Stiles’ house, Derek stayed outside while Stiles and John got ready for bed. Stiles slumped into his chair and checked his email- there was a scathing message from Lydia about going places by himself. Grinning, he started on some homework. It was nice knowing she cared.

“You’re supposed to be going to bed.”

“Jesus Christ Derek!” Stiles almost fell out of his chair as Derek appeared at the window.

Derek jumped in the window and took a seat on the end of Stiles’ bed.

“Just because I got shot doesn’t mean I get out of homework.” Stiles retorted, going back to his math problems. “Best to get it done now, so I can enjoy the weekend.”

“Why were you at Peter’s?” Derek asked.

Stiles sighed. “I was trying to return his laptop. I borrowed it for the bestiary info- Lydia and Danny are working on translating the Latin and setting up a database, to help for the next time we have a monster to deal with.”

Derek looked surprised, thick eyebrows raised. “That’s...a good idea. And Peter let you borrow it?”

Stiles wasn’t going to mention that he now owed Peter a favour.

“Yep! I know I’m just a human, but I can still help the pack you know.”

“I know, I just wish you could do that and also not get shot.”

Stiles shrugged. “At least I have spidey-sense now. And healing powers.”

Derek rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. His eyes looked bloodshot.

“I guess you have to do homework. I’ll let you get back to it.”

He looked tired. Impulsively, Stiles jumped out of his chair and hugged Derek. It was like hugging a warm mountain. Hesitantly, Derek’s arms wrapped around him. It felt...nice. Safe.

“What are you doing?” Derek said softly.

“Hugging you. Obviously. You looked like you needed one.”

Derek didn’t reply. His arms tightened for a minute, and Stiles felt his breath catch. Then he withdrew and left out the window. Stiles let out a sigh, and returned to his math problems.

Morning came too quickly, and Stiles stumbled down the stairs to find Erica in the kitchen, helping Stiles’ Dad cook bacon and eggs.

“Morning Sunshine!”

Stiles managed a grunt, then a smile as Erica handed him coffee.

“Drink up. You’re no fun this sleepy. Not that I got much sleep, with you snoring away.”

“I don’t snore!” Stiles exclaimed indignantly.

Erica laughed. “Isaac will back me on that one, you totally do. Helps keep us awake on our guard shifts.”

John and Erica sat at the table with their plates of bacon and eggs, John passing Stiles a plate for himself. They all tucked in and Stiles enjoyed the silence for a minute.

“I have a shift today, so keep in touch. No getting shot.” John said.

“I’ll do my best,” Stiles promised. “It’s the weekend Dad, I plan to have fun, there are no guns involved.”

Erica snickered. “You say that like guns aren’t fun, Stiles.”

John rolled his eyes. “I’m off. Stay out of trouble.”

Erica and Stiles were in the middle of a discussion on what to do next (Stiles wanted to go to the arcade, Erica to the mall), when Stiles’ phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket, eyebrows raising in surprise when he saw Lydia’s name.

“Lyds?”

“Stiles, the hunters have been here,” Lydia’s voice was calm, but he could hear the nervous tension in her voice.

“What! Where-“

“I’m at my house, and I need some assistance. Peter has been shot with wolfsbane bullets.”

Stiles could see Erica’s shocked face, and assumed his mirrored hers. Though he had an idea of why Peter might be there.

“Are they still there? You in danger?”

“They’ve left, but we need an antidote for Peter’s wounds,” Lydia replied.

Stiles started running for the jeep, Erica keeping pace.

“I’ll get Deaton and we’ll be there soon.”

“Hurry.”

Stiles drove as fast as he could to the vet clinic, Erica tapping away on her phone.

“I’m letting Derek know,” she explained.

Stiles’ brain whirled furiously. “If the hunters are gone, we shouldn’t need everyone. Don’t tell my Dad, he’s working. What if this is a trap trying to get us all in one place?”

Erica nodded. “Point. You won’t stop Derek, but the others should stay with their buddies?”

“Yep. We can update them when we get there.”

Stiles screeched into the parking lot outside the vet clinic and raced inside, relieved to see there was only one person in the waiting room. Deaton saw their faces and gestured for them to come into the back room.

“Peter’s been hit with wolfsbane bullets, we need you to come with us!” Stiles demanded.

“Very well. I will reschedule this patient, and get my bag. Wait for me in the car.” Deaton’s voice was annoyingly calm.

Stiles drummed his fingers on the side of the window, waiting impatiently in the jeep. Erica kept checking her phone.

“Derek says he will meet us there.”

Stiles nodded, gaze on the vet clinic door. Finally Deaton came out, carrying a black medical-type bag. As soon as he was in the backseat Stiles drove out of there, staying just under the speed limit to avoid attention. Everyone at the police station knew his jeep.

He drove to Lydia’s house, a familiar place but not a comfortable one. Erica watched the street, her face intent.

“I don’t see or hear anything weird,” she said.

Stiles pulled in as close to the front door as he could manage, but there was still a walk through Lydia’s well-maintained front garden to the door. As soon as he approached the door, it opened, Lydia looking calm, her eyes a little too wide, bloodstains on her pretty green dress.

“Come in, he’s in here,” she rushed them into the front foyer, blood on the tiles, and Peter lying on them, face creased in pain.

Deaton knelt down beside him, opening his bag.

“Where were you shot?”

Peter rolled his eyes and gestured at his long-sleeved expensive shirt, now showing holes.

“Shirt off,” Deaton said briskly.

“What happened to dinner...and a movie,” Peter said, trying to smirk but it came out as a grimace.

“For fuck’s sake Peter,” Stiles snapped, and knelt down to carefully pull Peter’s shirt off.

A bang echoed from the door. Erica’s head whipped around.

“That’s Derek, I’ll get it.”

Peter’s torso was covered in dark streaks leading up from the bullet holes. Deaton immediately pulled out a scalpel and a set of forceps and started working at one of the holes.

“Ow!”

A moment later, a growling Derek crouched beside Peter as Deaton pulled out a bullet and dropped it to the tiled floor.

“If one of you could break that open for me.”

Derek snapped the casing with his fingers and Deaton held out a hand- Derek poured the powder into it, keeping it well away from his own face. Deaton examined it, brought it to his fingers, and sniffed.

“Seems like a common strain of wolfsbane. I’ll remove the other bullets and Lydia, if you can fetch me a dish and a lighter, we can burn it all.”

Lydia nodded, and walked shakily into the kitchen. Stiles followed her.

“You alright? Wasn’t Jackson supposed to be with you?”

Lydia sniffed. “I sent him out on an errand when I saw Peter lurking outside in his car. I knew he wanted to see me and Jackson would have just been in the way.”

Her green eyes caught Stiles’ in a sharp gaze.

“I feel like you know about this, but he came and apologised for how he treated me.”

Stiles shrugged sheepishly. “I may have suggested it.”

Lydia gave him a little smile. “He said his piece and even sounded sincere. He was in the front garden leaving when the hunters pulled up.”

She caught Stiles’ look. “Yes I got the make and model, but not the license plate. Peter yelled at me to shut the door, I did, and then heard the gunshots.”

“Why didn’t they take him? Or finish him off?” Stiles blurted. “Or go after you?”

Lydia smirked. “Because I have a very loud house alarm system. Once I turned that on, the blaring was so loud there was a chance they wouldn’t want to attract attention to themselves. As far as they knew, there was security or police already on their way.”

Stiles grinned at her. “Nice one.”

“Once I heard them leave, I helped Peter inside and called you.” She sighed. “Peter had been well-behaved for him, so I thought I should help.”

Stiles smiled. “Such a softy.”

Lydia scoffed, pulling a bowl out of a cupboard, and a lighter out of drawer. “If you repeat that, I’ll tell everyone how you looked when Derek carried you up to bed like a sleeping princess at movie night.”

Stiles gasped. “You’re mean!”

Lydia smiled at him. “That’s right, and don’t you forget it.”

She and Stiles moved back to the foyer and Lydia held the bowl for Derek as he tipped the remaining wolfsbane into it. Deaton lit the powder, waited then started pressing the powder into the four holes in Peter’s torso.

Peter groaned, his body breaking out in a sweat. Derek sat on the floor behind Peter and braced him as the black lines started shrinking, then disappeared completely.

“What the fuck.”

Stiles looked up to see Jackson in the doorway, face paling as he viewed the scene.

“Ah Jackson, if you would be so kind to give me a lift back to the clinic,” Deaton stood up, and went to the kitchen to wash his hands.

Lydia turned to Jackson. “We’re all fine, you drop Deaton off, and I’ll explain when you get back.”

Derek frowned. “We’ll wait with you. You shouldn’t be alone.”

“She was hardly alone, nephew,” drawled Peter, sitting up a bit straighter, but not shrugging off Derek’s support, Stiles noticed.

Derek snorted. “Yes, I can see that worked well.”

Derek was sitting on the floor with Peter, his chest braced against Peter’s back. Stiles wondered when was the last time Derek had voluntarily touched his Uncle.

Deaton left with Jackson, and Erica came back from the kitchen with a roll of paper towels and a bowl of some kind of liquid. She turned to Lydia.

“I’ll help you clean up. I figure you don’t want your mom to see this.”

Lydia smiled at her. “Thank you.”

Peter sighed, and started getting up. “I suppose we need to move so you can do that.”

Derek kept a steadying hand under Peter’s elbow, and Stiles followed them into Lydia’s sitting room. The room was decorated in a minimalist style, with neutral contemporary colours and cushions in Lydia’s favourite shade of green. Peter sat down on the large cream-coloured couch, then paused.

“Do I have any blood on my back?”

Derek sat down next to him and looked. “No. Looks like the bullets didn’t go through.”

“Yes, that would explain the pain,” Peter replied. He leant back against the couch. “I didn’t want to stain Lydia’s couch. She has good taste.” He looked down at his bare chest and sighed. “I liked that shirt.”

“Why did you even go out on your own? That was stupid,” Derek snapped.

“I had some private business to conduct,” Peter replied loftily. “It doesn’t concern you.”

Derek growled but didn’t push. Stiles’ fingers were itching with the need to touch Peter’s bullet holes. He moved towards Peter and extended his arm.

“Can I just-“

Derek caught his wrist. “What are you doing?”

“I can heal these,” Stiles said excitedly. “Like I did with Erica’s cut.”

Derek frowned. “Peter will heal on his own, you don’t need to use up your energy for that.”

“So caring, nephew. Or is it that you don’t want Stiles to touch me?”

Stiles rolled his eyes at Peter, that was so not helping. He pulled at Derek’s grip.

“Come on, Derek. It’s good practice for me, I want to get better at it. And maybe the more I practice, the less energy it will drain. I can always eat after.”

Reluctantly, Derek released Stiles.

“Just don’t overdo it.”

Stiles bent over Peter, who was watching him curiously. Stiles extended his fingers and lightly touched one of the ragged, messy holes in Peter’s chest. He imagined the hole healing inside, and closing over, pushing that intention at the hole. Stiles could almost feel the energy this time, coming from his body into Peter’s.

“I can feel you doing something,” Peter said, in a thoughtful tone.

Stiles grinned as the hole closed over, leaving smooth unmarked skin in its place. He repeated the process three more times, and was sweating by the end. Derek looked at his face and pulled Stiles down on the couch next to him.

Peter looked down at his now smooth chest. “Thank you, Stiles.”

“Why don’t you go find something in the kitchen for Stiles to eat, since he spent his energy on you,” Derek suggested.

Peter shrugged and stood up. “I suppose I could.”

Derek put a hand against Stiles’ forehead. Stiles laughed at him.

“I’m fine, just a bit tired. You worry too much.”

Derek sighed and put his arm around Stiles, which shocked him into speechlessness.

“You don’t worry enough, Stiles.”

Stiles decided to shut up and enjoy the moment. Derek’s body was warm, and the arm around him was comforting. He snuggled into Derek’s side a little. Pack touching was awesome. For some reason it always felt better when Derek did it.

Peter returned, holding a plate containing a banana and some protein bars. He handed it to Stiles, and sat back down next to them. It didn’t seem to bother him that he was walking around with no shirt. He had cleaned the blood off his chest, though.

Stiles bit into the banana, stomach rumbling. Magic definitely burned the energy. He glanced at Derek, who was watching his face rather intently. As he caught Stiles’ gaze, he ducked his head and looked away. Was Derek blushing? Why? Stiles heard Peter snicker next to him and wondered what the joke was.

“It appears I may have been the original target after all,” Peter said, looking at Stiles.

Stiles replied with a mouth full of banana, “Maybe, but I don’t think you’re the only one. They were after Derek to begin with.”

“Better to assume that everyone is a target,” Derek added. “I don’t want any of you to be alone.”

“Next time you boys can clean up,” Lydia said from the doorway, standing with Erica.

They walked into the sitting room and flopped down on the other couch facing the boys.

Peter put a hand against his chest. “I promise if I get blood on your floor again Lydia, I will clean it up.”

Lydia looked at sharply, but when he didn’t smirk, she nodded, satisfied.

“Hey Peter, you look better, what happened to the bullet holes?” Erica asked.

Peter wiggled his fingers, “That would be Stiles’ magic fingers.”

Erica cackled.

“That’s pretty useful magic,” Lydia added, looking impressed.

Stiles shrugged. “I’d rather be able to shoot beams of magic at bad guys or something, but it’s ok I guess.”

“Healing someone is more complicated than hurting someone- this isn’t easy magic you’re doing Stiles,” said Peter, looking serious for once. “Don’t discount it so easily.”

Stiles didn’t know what to say to that, so he just concentrated on eating his food. Lydia passed him a piece of paper.

“I wrote down the colour, make and model of the hunter’s car,” she explained. “I expect you’ll want to pass that on to your father, and Chris.”

“Thanks Lyds.”

“I feel like all we’re doing is just reacting,” Derek said suddenly.

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Well, you’re not wrong. But so far we haven’t had much to go on. Maybe Lydia’s information will reveal some leads.”

“I would like to find the hunters before another one of us gets hurt,” Derek said, sounding frustrated.

Stiles knew the feeling.

“I can’t figure out what they want,” Stiles said, finishing off the last protein bar. “They seemed to want Derek at first. Then they took a shot at me and Peter. Then Peter again. But why? What’s the end goal?”

“Maybe they had a plan that failed when you killed the two initial hunters,” Lydia suggested. “And now they’re scrambling, trying to come up with a new plan. Maybe they’re reacting just as much as we are.”

“We’re not reacting with violence,” Erica added. “Maybe we should be.”

“We have to find them first,” said Derek with a sigh, his chest vibrating pleasantly against Stiles’ side.

Stiles pulled out his phone and sent the car information to his Dad and Chris.

“Car info is passed on, I’ll let you know if they find anything.”

Derek pulled out his own phone.

“Lydia, tell Jackson to meet us at the loft. While we’re waiting, we should train more. So we’re ready for what happens. Stiles, can you ask Scott and Allison to join us?”

Stiles smiled at Derek, proud of him for taking the lead and making plans.

“Sure! I’ll let Danny know too.”

Lydia tapped away on her own phone, without being snarky at Derek giving her an order. Stiles smiled to himself. In only a week, he could see the small changes happening in his friends. His pack plan was totally working.