Emissary of the Hale Pack

by Takara_Phoenix

Summary:

Stiles lost everything, his entire pack was dead, his mate Peter had died in his arms. In his despair, he uses forbidden time-travel magic. He goes back far enough to save Paige and prevent the Hale Fire. But now he is stranded in the past, unsure what his place in it all is.

Peter's mother Dalia, the former Emissary of the Hale Pack, can sense the forbidden magic on him and coaxes the truth out of him. She then decides to help him and give him a place to belong, in the Hale Pack that Stiles just saved.

Chapter 1: Back to the Beginning

Stetopher || Teen Wolf || Stetopher || Emissary of the Hale Pack || Stetopher || Teen Wolf || Stetopher

Title: Emissary of the Hale Pack – Second Chances

TW Disclaimer: All rights reserved to Jeff Davis and MTV. This fanfiction on the other hand is entirely mine. No money is made with this, though reviews are more than welcomed.

Tags: m/m/m, polyamory, time travel fix it, No Hale Fire, PTSD, grief, past character death, hurt/comfort, fluff, found family, adoption, Spark Stiles, explicit intercourse, anal, oral, m/f

Main Pairing: Chris/Peter/Stiles

Side Pairings: Derek/Paige, Damon/Talia, Aaron/Fiona, Vernon/Anita, Roberto/Susanne

Teen Wolf Characters: Mieczysław 'Stiles' Stilinski Stiliyan Johnson, Chris Argent, Peter Hale, Talia Hale, Laura Hale, Derek Hale, Cora Hale, Malia Tate, Allison Argent, Isaac Lahey, Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd, Alicia Boyd, Camden Lahey Jr., Paige Krasikeva, Sheriff Noah Stilinski

Original Characters: Dalia Hale, Damon Hale, Aaron Hale, Fiona Hale, Jason Hale, Sloan Hale, Vernon Boyd Senior, Anita Boyd, Bonnie Boyd, Roberto Reyes, Susanne Reyes

Summary: Stiles lost everything, his entire pack was dead, his mate Peter had died in his arms. In his despair, he uses forbidden time-travel magic. He goes back far enough to save Paige and prevent the Hale Fire. But now he is stranded in the past, unsure what his place in it all is.

Emissary of the Hale Pack

Second Chances

Chapter 1: Back to the Beginning

Deucalion was coughing, weak and broken on the inside as half his pack had just died in that warehouse. He was crawling away, knowing he stood no chance. Gerard was still standing, there was nobody to have Deucalion's back. He was alone and he was going to die now.

Talia and Deaton's words came back to haunt him and he felt foolish for it. All his optimism got him was the death of his pack and now his own death too. He turned around, staring up at Gerard frightfully. There was a manic glint in the man's eyes as he raised two strange arrows.

"Not this time."

Gerard's eyes bulged and then blood started spilling from his mouth. He dropped the arrows and grasped helplessly at his own throat. Deucalion didn't know what was happening, he simply stared with wide eyes as Gerard went down and collapsed next to him. There was a crossbow bolt lodged square into Gerard's back, going straight through the man's lung and into his heart.

Deucalion looked up just to see the young man lower his crossbow. He had sharp, bright eyes, filled with rage and pain. He was the most beautiful thing Deucalion had ever laid eyes on, radiating power and vengeance like an Old God. His eyes were cold when he looked at Deucalion and suddenly, the Alpha still feared death. He had never felt more like prey than in this moment.

"You saved my life," Deucalion whispered amazed.

"No," the beautiful boy disagreed with a sneer. "I saved the lives of those I love. Saving your life is a byproduct and nothing else. Earn that second chance I am giving you."

Deucalion struggled to sit up. "H… How?"

"Be the Visionary you're supposed to be. Don't let what happened here turn you into what Gerard wanted to paint you as. Don't become the monster he saw in you."

Deucalion nodded, dizzy from the pain and loss, overwhelmed by this. He had lost hope and then this angel had come and saved him, given him a second chance. Deucalion was going to use it.

/break\

Stiles stumbled breathlessly into the clearing, following the beacon of his Nemeton. His heart was racing in his chest like it was trying to break out of his rib-cage. It was already dark, too dark. What if he was too late? He couldn't be late for this. He shouldn't have gotten distracted by going to the warehouse, but it had been too important not to. Killing Gerard had the highest priority and though he could have done it at a later point, he knew that saving Deucalion would save others too.

Behind his eyes, he saw Erica's lifeless body in that closet, saw Boyd impaled in the loft, Derek kneeling before him, defeated and broken. They wouldn't have died if there was no Alpha Pack.

Stiles' heart sank when he entered the root cellar. The first thing that slammed into him was just how young Derek was. He was so unbearably young and innocent. It was funny, in a twisted way, but back when all of this had started for Stiles, he had felt so grown-up, practically an adult. He'd only been a year older than Derek was right now. Looking at Derek right now, Stiles felt a little mortified realizing just how young they had been. How young he himself had been.

"Who are you? How did you find this place?"

Swallowing hard, Stiles staggered back a little as he found himself face to face with Peter Hale. Smooth-faced, a decade younger than Stiles remembered him, but gorgeous as ever. Inhaling sharply through his nose, Stiles pushed past Peter, not looking at the wolf. He had a mission and that mission laid in Derek's lap right now, struggling to breath.

"Hey there, Paige," Stiles smiled warmly as he knelt next to the teens. "It's going to be okay."

"She's… She's dying," Derek's voice broke, tears running down his fault. "It's my fault."

Stiles lifted his gaze, regarding Derek sharply. "It is not your fault. Now shut up, okay?"

Derek looked startled and nearly meek, clearly overwhelmed by the situation and his own fear. Things Stiles could deal with later. His focus returned to the brunette girl in Derek's lap. Her pained, brown eyes looked up at him and he could see it in them. Paige knew she was dying and she had made her peace with it. He'd seen that look in his mother's eyes before she had died.

"I can help you," Stiles kept his voice gentle. "But I need you to make a choice. Do you want to be a werewolf, or do you want to stay human? Either way, it is a final choice, but it is your choice."

"Wh… What?" Paige couched, looking so exhausted.

"I can help you. I can either stop the bite from taking fully and ejecting it from your body, making you human again, but you will never be able to receive the bite again. Or I can heal you and help the bite along, making you a werewolf," Stiles explained patiently. "It's your choice, Paige."

She looked at him for a brief moment before she turned to look at Derek. Stiles hadn't fully understood what Derek had lost when he lost her until he saw the way she looked at him. It explained so much, it explained why Derek had fallen victim to Kate and to Jennifer. Losing Paige had broken something inside him, had made him lose hope in love, so he settled for the women preying on him. Stiles breathed deep and leaned back on his haunches.

"I want…" Paige turned back to Stiles. "I want to be a wolf."

A faint smile spread over Stiles' lips and he nodded. He closed his eyes and concentrated, pressing his spread-out hand against the bite. Peter had moved closer, watching him with a wary expression. The man gave a startled gasp and stumbled back when Stiles opened his eyes and Stiles knew they were glowing a bright, unmistakable teal. The roots around them started creaking when the Nemeton reacted to its guardian. The only reason this was going to work was because they were right under her, that Stiles could channel her powers like this. The ground began to shake when Stiles drew more of her magic, the shallow pool that existed protesting the drain.

I will refill you again, Stiles promised in his mind. I will make you whole again. I will fix this. I will fix you. But first, you need to help me fix her. Please.

Because today was the day. Today was the first day of the end. When Derek lost Paige and Ennis lost the trust of the other Alphas for his actions, when Gerard had killed Deucalion's pack and blinded the man. It had set up so much tragedy and pain. And if Stiles didn't prevent it all, then he was doomed to fail, he knew it, could feel it deep in his bones. Today needed to be a success.

The Nemeton's roots moved, stretching out and wrapping around Stiles' arms, torso and throat. Holding him upright, strengthening him, connecting him to his tree. Paige's eyes shot open with a gasp and they glowed the innocent, bright gold of a beta. Stiles managed a weak smile and he knew, if not for the roots, he would have collapsed then and there, all energy drained from him.

"Y… You… You healed her," Derek stared at him with those large, disbelieving hazel-eyes.

Stiles nodded and, with the Nemeton's help, stood. "Go home, Derek. Introduce Paige to her new Alpha and… explain this to your mother. Good luck with that."

Derek nodded and helped Paige up. The two teens turned to stare at Stiles one last time before leaving the root-cellar. The roots retreated from Stiles when he took a step toward Peter, who hadn't moved. Ice-blue eyes fixated Stiles, dissecting him in that way that had always made Stiles shudder in anticipation. His own eyes hardened as he approached the wolf who wasn't his.

"It's an honor to meet you, Spark," Peter spoke with a charming smile, bowing his head a little.

The perfect picture of respect, as fake as it was. Stiles raised his hand and the echo of the slap was so much louder in the empty space. When Peter looked at him again, he seemed genuinely shocked.

"I know what you did," Stiles spat. "I know you got in his head, you put this idea into him that she needs to be a wolf to truly understand. Stop projecting your own fears onto him! He's just a kid! He fucking adores you, he'd follow you and your advise anywhere."

"H… How…" Peter stared at him in surprise, cradling his red cheek.

So maybe Stiles had put a bit of magic strength into that slap, to let his wolf feel it. "Do better."

All Peter did was nod and swallow. Clearly the events that had just transpired – Paige's near death (which Stiles knew had never been what Peter wanted), Stiles healing her and revealing his status as a Spark, and now the slap – had rattled the wolf enough to make him shut up. Usually, Stiles reveled in these rare moments that he got the upper hand in an argument between them and managed to silence Peter, with that adorably dumbfounded expression on his face. Right now wasn't a playful argument, right now, Stiles was furious with the wolf who wasn't his. Because Stiles knew what would have happened if he hadn't been there, he knew the trajectory both Peter and Derek's lives, and their relationship, would have taken if Stiles hadn't intervened.

"Go home, Peter," Stiles sighed, all fight leaving him. "Just… go home. Clean up your mess."

Peter stared at him for another long moment and Stiles knew that look. He'd received that look before. The moment Peter Hale decided that Stiles Stilinski was a mystery he ought to unwrap and an asset he wanted to call his. That look, Stiles knew because Peter had told him what it meant, had told him that the moment he'd looked at Stiles that way had been the moment he'd started falling for Stiles. That realization left Stiles so startled, all he could do was watch Peter leave. It was far too early and why did this stupid wolf keep being attracted to Stiles getting in his way? What was wrong with this man? Shaking his head, Stiles rubbed his face.

He wasn't done for the day just yet, after all. He was at the Nemeton, in its cellar. And he knew that at this point in time, there was someone else down here. Tilting his head, Stiles turned and let his magic guide him toward the closed jar with the little, glowing firefly in it.

"Mh," Stiles watched the darkness spinning a web between the firefly and Stiles' hand against the glass. "We're still connected, you and I. You were in my head, and I was in yours. I know I can't destroy you, but… I can change your shape and I can bind you."

He channeled his magic toward the firefly even as he unscrewed the lid. The moment it left the jar, its shape changed. Stiles smiled down at the small black fox with the glowing firefly-like yellow eyes. It snarled and hissed at him, hackles raised. Stiles' smile grew and he bared his teeth.

"You're bound to me now, Nogitsune," Stiles whispered lightly. "You'll serve as my familiar. Which means you can not harm me or those I consider mine."

"You will regret this, Spark," the Nogitsune growled and swiped at him.

Stiles huffed and grabbed him by the scruff. "Yeah, probably. But leaving you here unsupervised is much unsafer. Besides, if you behave yourself, we can indulge in some chaos, every now and again. I have a lot to do in this time and much of it is revenge and murder. You should like that."

A triangular black ear twitched and the fox in his grasp tilted its head. Stiles put the fox into the hood of his red hoodie, at which the Nogitsune grumbled in indignity. He was just the right size to fit in there though. A pleased grin lit up Stiles' face. He'd done it. He had killed Gerard, prevented Deucalion from becoming the Demon Wolf, saved Paige's life and eliminated the Nogitsune as a threat. All in a day's work. There was a lot more on his to-do-list still, but so far, it was going well.

Together with his new familiar did he exit the root-cellar. He paused when he noticed the ice-blue eyes staring at him expectantly. Sighing, Stiles walked past Peter. Of course had he not listened. Damn stubborn wolf and his endless curiosity and hunger for knowledge.

"You didn't really think I'd just leave you here, did you?" Peter smirked. "A Spark in our territory? I'm escorting you to my Alpha, because I feel like she doesn't know about you."

Great. Meeting Talia Hale. Not exactly on his to-do-list. Or his want-to-do-list. Stiles still held a grudge on both Peter and Malia's behalf for the memories she took and the child she abandoned.

Stiles sighed in defeat. "Lead the way, Peter."

/break\

"Why don't you go and take care of Derek, talk to Peter? I'll… speak to our new guest."

Stiles swallowed hard, not looking away from the woman before him, even as he could see Talia Hale nod from the corner of his eyes and return to the other room that Derek and Paige were still in. She must have been in the middle of consoling Derek and getting all the information on what had happened tonight when Peter and Stiles had arrived. The Alpha hadn't liked the interruption, or the stranger in her pack's den, that much was plain to see. And then the Alpha's mother walked in.

Dalia Hale was every bit as intimidating as Stiles expected her to be, from reputation alone. The girl who ran with wolves, once upon a time. Former Emissary of the Hale Pack, former Alpha Mate of the Hale Pack, mother to Talia, Peter and their younger brother. A powerful druid. She looked like an innocent, middle-aged woman, with the same full, dark hair as both Peter and Talia, but she had Peter's sharp, ice-blue eyes. They stared at Stiles like she was dissecting him, the same way Peter used to. Always trying to figure out all the angles and most of the time perceptive enough to do it. That was what made her intimidating, because Stiles couldn't afford to be dissected.

"Go with your sister, Peter," Dalia's voice was a firm order when her son didn't move.

Peter heaved a frustrated sigh and threw one last intrigued look at Stiles. "Yes, mother."

It was strange, Stiles couldn't decide whether he was glad or sad that Peter left. Though he couldn't see them, he was acutely aware of the rest of the pack in the house, most likely close by. He'd guess Derek's father was in the same room as Derek, Talia and Paige. The wolves among the pack might stick closer to the living room Stiles was in with Dalia right now, not trusting the stranger.

"Follow me to my office," Dalia requested. "Away from prying werewolf ears."

Stiles had a feeling that wasn't necessarily a good thing. Still, he didn't see much other option than to follow the druid. They entered an office, the walls lined floor to ceiling with shelves, filled with old books, bottles, potted plants and ingredients. The moment the door closed behind them, Stiles could feel the magic of a silencing rune kick in. Dalia smiled warmly at him as she sat down behind her heavy, dark desk, putting some parchment and dried herbs aside.

"I'm so sorry to bother you, ma'am," Stiles offered a polite smile. "Peter shouldn't have dragged me here. I promise, I am not a threat to your family or pack. I'll be out of your hair right away, I just had some business in town but… I have nothing to keep me here so I'll be on my way now."

To his surprise did Dalia laugh. "I know that tone, the way you say his name. What did my son do? He's left a lot of broken hearts in his wake. Tell me how he broke yours and I will ground him."

"You'll ground a twenty-eight year old man?" Stiles smiled amused. "And he didn't break my-"

The smile on his lips died and his breath caught in his throat when he realized that she was right. He trembled a little and took an instinctive step back as he was overwhelmed by the memories he'd safely locked away since he came here, suppressing them so he could get the job done.

"Oh, honey," Dalia sounded heartbroken and took a step forward. "He died, didn't he? I know that look on your face from my own mirror after my Logan passed."

That was jarring enough to drag him back to the moment. "What. Your son is fine. He just walked off with his sister. He's not dead. And why would you compare us to you and your husband. No."

Dalia's smile was sad and she looked at him with those knowing eyes. "I may not be as powerful as you are, but I know magic. Forbidden magic is clinging to you like tar. Time-travel magic. You're from the future. That's why you knew Peter, Derek and Paige, knew their names, knew where they were. It's also why we're in my office to talk in private. I know time-travel is a… delicate issue. It is forbidden magic for a reason. I want to know what drove you to use it to come here and save my grandson's girlfriend. The way I see it, you are in an unfamiliar time, stranded because time-travel is a one-way street, and you are in need of allies. Let me be your ally, for helping my family."

Stiles stared at her for minutes, quietly. Cataloging all the little things about her that reminded him of Peter. Thinking about everything that had happened today and that had led up today. She was right. He was alone. He was all alone. He had lost everyone. Everything. Slowly, he sank down onto the chair opposite her desk and he broke down, telling her everything. Everything.

Paige's death that would have turned Derek's eyes blue and permanently altered his self-perception, allowing Kate to groom him. The Hale Fire. Laura abandoning the territory and Peter. Peter waking up from his coma and killing her. Feral Peter. Scott. Peter's death. Peter's resurrection. The pack Derek built. The kamina. Gerard. The Alpha Pack. The Darach. Derek giving up the Hale Alpha spark to save Cora's life. Malia. The Nogitsune. The Benefactor. Peter getting locked up for crimes in his head that someone else chose to commit. The Dread Doctors. The Ghost Riders. Gerard's return and the beginning of the end of the world as they knew it.

"The supernatural world was no longer a secret," Stiles' voice was broken and empty at that point, the look on his face haunted by the ghosts of those he lost. "And the humans reacted how they always react when they have a vulnerable group they deem wrong. They built camps. And they put us into those camps. I lost… touch… with most of our old pack, never learned what happened to them. The ones that were still alive at that point, anyway. Peter, Derek, Malia and I ended up in the same camp though. Peter killed an Alpha in the camp and we… we became a new attempt at the Hale Pack. Until that was taken from us too. We tried to escape, together. Derek… Derek never made it out, but he bought us time. Malia died next, when we were in over our heads being hunted. And… And Peter died last. He died in my arms. And I had nothing left to lose. We'd researched time travel spells before, but agreed the cost was too big. To sacrifice the person one loves most. He was already nearly dead, he wouldn't have survived anyway. I went back to save him. Save them."

Stiles averted his eyes, filled with guilt. He'd killed her son. Twice, technically. His hands were shaking, cheeks aching with the cold tears on them, eyes burning. They'd talked for hours. Well, he'd talked for hours. She had listened. Made tea multiple times between.

"And saving them started tonight," Dalia whispered gently. "Because Derek would have lost a part of himself. And you saved him from that. Thank you."

"He was my best friend," Stiles whispered, voice hallow as he remembered a different Derek. "And now he's a fifteen year old kid who never even met me."

"You went back to change the past, to save them. But what about you?"

Blinking slowly, Stiles turned his head to look at the sleeping fox still tucked into his hood, face resting on Stiles' shoulder. "The worst things that happened to me were done by Gerard and this one. I killed Gerard and I tamed the shadow fox."

Gerard had kidnapped and tortured Stiles, that had been the very first time all of this had directly physically impacted Stiles. He'd twisted Deucalion and led to the creation of the Alpha Pack, led to the death of Erica and Boyd. He'd exposed the supernatural and turned Beacon Hills into the ground zero of bigotry against the supernatural. Killing Gerard solved so many of his problems.

"I don't mean the you that is growing up in this time, I don't mean save him from becoming you. I mean you," Dalia gently poked him in the chest. "You came into town to check off points from your to-do-list and then, what? You wanted to leave again, come back when the next horrible thing will happen that you need to prevent? Will you make saving them your life's purpose?"

Stiles blinked large eyes at her. "Yes. I have nothing else left. I lost everything. I don't belong here. All I'm good for is prevent the people I love from suffering and dying."

Again with the heartbroken look. He hated that, because she had her son's eyes. When she looked at him like that, it felt like when Peter used to look at him like that. Stiles averted his eyes, but she cupped his cheek gently and made him look at her again.

"You survived," Dalia spoke firmly. "You deserve to actually live."

"I don't belong here," Stiles shook his head. "I don't have a place to belong here."

"But you do," Dalia looked so serious, so fierce. "You said it yourself. You're part of the Hale Pack. This is the Hale Pack. You went back in time to save your pack and to save my pack. You have a place in the Hale Pack. And you clearly have a bond with the Nemeton, even misplaced in time. Derek described what you did, before you and Peter arrived and interrupted his retelling."

Stiles paused at that and tilted his head. She wasn't wrong about the Nemeton. It had been a gamble, if he was being honest. He had ties to his Nemeton, but in theory, there should be a Spark in this time who should have ties to this Nemeton. Then again, while the Nemeton was the one to plant the magic Spark inside a chosen human, that magic only ignited when the Spark joined the local pack and formed a bond with an Alpha. Stiles had been the first Spark to join the Hale Pack in decades, because the pack had assumed the Nemeton dead. Cut down and drained. There was no active Spark in this time and the Nemeton had clearly accepted him as her Spark.

Stiles blinked at that realization and ran a shaky hand over his face. Crap. He had been so focused on saving Paige to save Derek, he hadn't considered the consequences. He'd accidentally become the guardian of this time's Nemeton. Heaving a sigh, he leaned back in his chair. Great.

"I can't stay here," Stiles frowned at her. "I live here. I mean, nine year old me lives here. Two guys named Stiles, with my distinct moles? Yeah, that's not a great idea."

"You're clever, something tells me you'll come up with a good solution for the both of you," Dalia smiled knowingly. "But you don't need to do that tonight. From what it sounds, you've had a very intense twenty-four hours and… very hard months. I'll show you to a bedroom. Take a shower, join the family for dinner and sleep in a guest room. You could use some meat on your bones."

"Yeah, this will come as a surprise, but internment camps don't exactly care about keeping their inmates well-fed. And being on the run didn't exactly give us time for regular meals either."

Stiles tensed when Dalia pulled him into a hug. She brushed his hair down and wrapped him up in warmth. It was such a mom hug that it brought tears to his eyes. That was all it took. He'd suppressed these tears for so many months now, trying to be strong, not allowing himself to cry over his losses because he couldn't afford to be weak and vulnerable like that, he needed to be strong so they could survive. And then they didn't survive. But in that moment, in Dalia's arms, he felt safe and he felt like he didn't need to be strong. He felt like he had as a little boy when his mom would hug him. Safe from anything that could possibly harm him. He started sobbing breathlessly, crying into her shoulder, clinging onto her and sobbing.

"It's going to be alright, dear," Dalia promised, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head. "You suffered enough, you lost enough. You don't have to be alone anymore."

He desperately wanted her words to be true, but he knew they weren't. His Peter was dead. His pack was dead. Everyone he ever loved was dead and in this time, all he got were ghosts of the past who didn't even know him. They would get to live, would get to be happy, but he would never be a part of their lives. Not the way he had been in his own time.

Stiles sighed in defeat. "Fine, I'll take the shower, the meal and the bed for a night. But that's all."

/break\

Beacon Hills had a Spark. Peter found himself eager. He'd ever only read about Sparks. With the Nemeton cut down, their family had been convinced that they had no Sparks. And then this powerful, vicious little thing walked into the root-cellar, performed a minor miracle and slapped Peter in the face, calling him out for his behavior (though Peter had no idea how that boy could even know any of that). Needless to say, Peter was instantly fascinated.

Sadly, he had to sit through multiple hours of debriefing with his Alpha and Alpha Mate, as well as their Right Hand. Small mercies that they hadn't dragged it into the open with the whole pack.

"The Spark's still here," Aaron informed him casually when Peter wandered into the kitchen.

Peter paused and gave his younger brother a curious look. "Still? It's been hours."

"Mom's been talking to him. They haven't left her office yet. She kept the silencing rune on," Aaron replied. "Laura's been trying to listen in, but even werewolf hearing can't beat the runes."

Peter snorted at that. Laura had been getting more snoopy now that she was legally considered an adult. Like the day of her eighteenth birthday had flipped a switch and now she was so grown up. She was still a damn menace, but he adored her, so there was that.

"You're gonna try and seduce him aren't you?" Aaron accused him, eyes narrowed.

Peter raised his chin at the challenge. "What makes you think that? The brat walked in, loud and brash, slapped me in the face and put me before the inquisition."

"Don't call my wife, our sister and her husband the inquisition," Aaron snorted. "And besides, that sounds like your type. Not your hook-up type, you prefer the doe-eyed… wait, actually, he is also your hook-up type, doe-eyed twink and all. But the brash kind that doesn't take your shit? That's the kind you lose your heart to, Petey."

"Don't call me that," Peter wrinkled his nose. "And that's nonsense. I will not fall for him."

Aaron gave him the most incredulous look and Peter hated how well his little brother knew him. He couldn't deny that the little Spark was quite tempting, not just his power and attitude but also his physical appearance. Sure, he was about a decade younger than Peter, but that didn't bother Peter. As Aaron had just pointed out, he had a track-record of cute twinks. But usually, they were for fun. Having casual fun with the Spark of Beacon Hills would be a bad call. Still, he was intrigued.

/break\

Stiles cried some more in the shower. First hot shower he'd had in months. Peter must have been the one to buy products for the guest room, because the shampoo and body wash were Peter's brands. They smelt like Peter and Stiles felt overwhelmed with grief, covered in his mate's scent. His fingers dug into the pale, faint scars on the junction between his shoulder and neck. His mate-bite. Now that his mate was dead, it had faded into silver scars.

He was a widower without a grave to mourn at. He'd killed his own husband, to perform this spell. The look in Peter's eyes when he'd reassured Stiles that it would be alright, that it was the right decision… Stiles took a shaky breath as he tried to reign the tears in. Peter was dead.

Peter was dead and now Peter's mom wanted Stiles to live with them. Live in the same house as this young, bright-eyed Peter who wasn't his. Everything that Stiles and Peter had shared… Every research session, every snarky banter, every 'darling' and 'sweetheart'. Peter had been the one who'd made it possible for Lydia and Scott to break the possession. Peter had reminded everyone that Stiles existed when the Ghost Riders had taken them. Peter had protected him in the camp. Kissed him and held him and loved him when the world wanted to see them dead.

"Hey. Grandma said to bring you clothes. Derek's should fit, you're not that much older and you aren't taller than him either. I'm Laura. Dad's making dinner, grandma wants you to join us."

Stiles stood frozen in the guest bedroom, a towel around his waist as he stared at Laura Hale. Alive Laura Hale. For a moment, he saw a flash of her torn-apart, dead body, before he shook it off. Looking at her, Stiles was startled to realize that they must be about the same right right now.

"Uh. Thanks," Stiles took the clothes from her. "I'll be downstairs in a moment."

Laura nodded and then left the bedroom again. Taking a deep breath, Stiles got dressed. Losing Laura had been such a blow to Derek, Peter killing her had been like the final nail in the coffin of their relationship. It took them years to somewhat rekindle. And then they both died.

Shaking his head violently, Stiles straightened out the clothes and headed out of the bedroom and down the stairs. His steps faltered when he entered the kitchen and saw the entire Hale Pack, alive and together. Stiles' breath caught in his throat as he looked at them all. Peter was sitting at the table, snarking and arguing with a redheaded woman. The man next to her, who looked at her like she was the sun, must be Peter and Talia's younger brother. The man shared traits with both Peter and Derek, the sharp cheekbones and dark hair, his face looking a lot like Derek, but he had the same blue eyes as Peter. Derek sat a few seats over, together with Paige, holding her hand. Laura and two young girls were setting the table, one of them was Cora. The other, a redhead. If Stiles had to guess, he'd say was the daughter of Peter's brother and the redheaded woman.

The moment Stiles entered the kitchen, all conversation ceased and everyone turned to look at him, some more subtle, others very openly staring. Thankfully enough, the two loudly arguing women entering after him drew the attention away from him. Stiles turned to look at Dalia and Talia.

"You can't just bring a stranger into out pack house, mother."

"You make it sound like Peter dragged in a stray cat he found in a trash-can," Dalia argued, her eyebrows raised. "He is not a stranger, he is the Spark of Beacon Hills and they found him at our Nemeton, which, must I remind you, is a sacred place for druids like me. It's a sign."

"A sign," Talia sighed and shook her head. "We know nothing about him."

"And I am set to change that," Dalia smiled pleased. "Talia, he is the Spark of our territory. The Hales have worked with the Sparks of these lands for centuries."

"And he saved Paige's life," Derek added fiercely, holding his mother's gaze.

"No fighting during dinner," Derek's father declared. "And dinner is ready. So everyone, grab a plate, then sit down and we eat. Our guests included."

Dalia looked very pleased and stepped up to Stiles, resting a hand on his back. "Let me introduce you to our pack. My daughter Talia, our Alpha. The gentleman who cooked our meal is our Alpha Mate, Talia's husband Damon. You already met their son Derek and those are Derek's sisters Cora and Laura. These two are my sons Peter and Aaron. Aaron's wife Fiona, our pack's Right Hand. And this is Aaron and Fiona's daughter Sloan."

Stiles nodded. Finally faces to the names he had heard so much about. His heart ached.

"So why does grandma want him to stay?" Cora asked curiously when everyone sat down.

Stiles shifted his food around on his plate, wondering about that himself. He looked at Dalia.

"I plan on taking him as my apprentice, teach him to be an Emissary," Dalia's smile was foreboding. "Because the Spark of Beacon Hills should be the Emissary of the Hale Pack."

Notes:

This is my 50th Stetopher fic and my 150th Teen Wolf fic overall and these numbers coinciding meant I really had to do something special. I consider time-travel fix-it fics very special and I consider this - a fix-it that prevents the Hale Fire - something I never thought I would write. Because I never planned on making Hale OCs. And then I accidentally made Hale OCs. And particularly the love Dalia has been getting has encouraged me to work with them in a greater scale and write this. Now, I don't plan on just making it OC-centric, as you might have noticed by the list of canon characters. We're gonna fix so, so, so much and Stiles is gonna get to protect his pack, as small and non-pack as they are

Next up! Stiles has to come up with a new identity and solve the "two Stileses" problem

Also, since this will be the first time I am using my Hale OCs grand-scale, here's a link to my faceclaims for them and their family tree!

Chapter 2: New Identity, New Life

Chapter 2: New Identity, New Life

"You plan on doing what, mother," Talia's voice pitched in an uncomfortably high manner.

Stiles wasn't the only one to wince at that. The wolves in the room all made faces, especially Paige, who was still new to the heightened senses. Derek reached out under the table to rest a comforting hand on her thigh. Urgh, these two were going to be even more disgusting than Scott and Allison, weren't they? Stiles hated the fondness bubbling in his chest.

"You've never taken on an apprentice before," Aaron spoke up.

Stiles tilted his head and looked at the youngest of the Hale siblings. Peter always spoke of his little brother with fondness, the youngest of the three, who idolized Peter and used to trail after him. Aaron growing up – finding a mate and having children – was why Peter took such a mentor role for Derek, because he liked the attention and admiration and had missed it. Like all Hales, Aaron was a textbook pretty boy. He looked startlingly much like Derek, actually.

"A clear oversight on my part," Dalia agreed. "But as I am retired now, I have the time to give an apprentice my attention and share my wisdom. To educate the future Emissary of our pack."

"We have an Emissary," Talia looked constipated. "Alan is my Emissary."

Interestingly enough, Dalia's face did that same thing that Peter's did when displeased and scheming to change an unfavorable situation. It was just a subtle pinch between the eyebrows, squinting ever so slightly, blue eyes narrowing in their focus and lips pressed together for the fraction of a second. Damn, Stiles' wolf really was his mother's son, huh. Which did not bode well for Stiles, if he had to deal with another scheming Hale.

"He is the Spark of Beacon County," Dalia motioned very pointedly at Stiles. "The Hales have worked with the Sparks for centuries now! Do you want to be the first Hale Alpha to break with this tradition? I am proud of having this position, but picking a druid as his Emissary was a choice made out of necessity for your father. Because there was no Spark in our generation."

Stiles shoved food in his mouth and watched all the Hales very critically. Things were getting heated, he could tell by how uncomfortable the kids looked and how tense the adults looked. It wasn't usual for Dalia to raise her voice, especially toward her Alpha, if Stiles had to guess. The intrigue and delight on Peter's face pissed Stiles off. His wolf really had always been a shit-stirrer.

"With all due respect, Alpha Hale," Stiles cut Talia off before the Alpha could argue with her mother any more. "But I think you have more pressing matters to tend to than this."

"I do?" Talia's entire focus turned onto Stiles and she raised her eyebrows. "Do tell."

Urgh, Stiles understood why that woman gave Peter a complex. Good thing Stiles had never met a single authority figure he didn't want to fight on sight. He leaned back casually, showing that he wasn't being intimidated by the Alpha in front of him, and waved vaguely into Paige's direction.

"I mean, you have a freshly turned wolf on your hands. And you should probably address the fact that Ennis – I mean, Alpha Dunham – turned someone against their will, someone who isn't even of consenting age, since she's only fifteen," Stiles argued. "And it happened on your watch, on your territory, during the Alpha summit you called."

Talia ground her teeth together, her jaw-muscles working. Someone at the table cleared their throat, cutlery slowed down as the atmosphere tensed further. Stiles wasn't done yet though.

"You should also check in with Alpha Blackwood before he leaved town," Stiles continued. "Because Gerard Argent killed half his pack yesterday. Also during your peace summit and under your watch. And you should hurry, because he's leaving fast."

"Deucalion was attacked," Talia jolted slightly, genuine concern on her face. "Is he alright?"

"Well," Stiles made a vague motion. "Half his pack died and I have it on good authority that kinda thing is like cutting off a limb for a wolf, so… I can't imagine he's alright. But he's alive."

"How do you know about this?" Talia narrowed her eyes at him, taking a step toward him.

"Because I saved his life," Stiles shoved another forkful into his mouth and chewed slowly. "Shot Gerard. Which. Huh. Guess that's another thing on your To Do List, then. Dead Argent patriarch."

"You what," Talia's voice pitched again and Stiles winced a little.

"He… literally… killed half a pack and was about to horrifically mutilate Alpha Blackwood," Stiles blinked innocent eyes at her. "Alpha Blackwood will confirm that when you speak with him."

Talia took slow, deep breaths and started rubbing the bridge of her nose. Stiles knew for a fact that werewolves couldn't get headaches, but he was about to give Talia one. Damon stood to walk to his wife. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close and Stiles could see the tension easing off her. Humming, Stiles reached over the table and stole bacon off of Peter's plate.

"Excuse me," Peter growled lowly.

Stiles stuffed the bacon in his mouth. "You're excused."

Aaron next to his brother snorted and elbowed Peter. "I like him for you."

Stiles cocked one eyebrow and chose to ignore that. It was hard not to see his Peter in this Peter. They were the same in all the ways that mattered, Stiles knew that. Sighing, he reached for his coffee and emptied it in one go. Talia seemed to be making a game plan. Good.

"So, you seem to agree with me that you have more pressing matters than your current unwanted house guest, or your mother's scheming," Stiles concluded. "I'm grateful for the meal and I will take the offer of a bed to rest, so I'll still be here for you to yell at or about when you get back from doing all of that."

Grinding her teeth together, Talia nodded reluctantly. The Alpha absolutely hated being told what to do. Which only made it so much more fun to do just that. Her son had always resented it too, until he learned to follow Stiles' lead. Stiles leaned back, watching her. Wondering if she'd learn too. Talia heaved a sigh and straightened her suit's blazer. She also leaned over to peck her husband's cheek. Stiles tilted his head thoughtfully for a moment. He wondered how she was going to handle this and he was a bit relieved that he didn't have to. He just wanted a bed and a nap.

/break\

"It's alright, sweetheart," Peter's voice was rough and his smile was stained with the Alpha's own blood. "There's nothing you can do at this point. Do it. Do it, so you'll have a chance to fix it."

Stiles sobbed, cradling Peter's head close. His wolf reached up to gently cup Stiles' face. Blue eyes were filled with love and absolution that Stiles knew he didn't deserve. His hands were shaking as he took the ritual dagger that he'd carried for so long now.

Stiles gasped for breath, a soundless scream on his lips as he jolted awake. Wide eyes stared around the foreign surroundings. A bedroom, with a proper bed. When was the last time he'd slept in an actual bed? His hands were shaking as he rubbed his face. Where was he…? What…?

He got out of bed and walked to the window. When he looked out, he froze. Teenage Derek was down there, together with Paige and the redheaded woman – Fiona, Derek's aunt. Right. He was in the past. His knees buckled as he remembered. The dream. It had happened. Peter was dead. Everyone was dead. And he had traveled to the past. He'd saved Paige's life.

"Fuck," Stiles gasped and leaned forward, resting his forehead against the cool glass. "Fuck."

Meddling Hale matriarch. Stubborn Hale Alpha. Snooping Hale Left Hand. He absolutely had no idea what to do with all of that. He had meant to come back and fix things, from the outside. Not get involved in anything. He couldn't afford to be involved. Taking another deep breath, Stiles went to grab his clothes and get changed. If he was going to stick around, he should buy more, probably. Urgh, maybe he needed a To Do List of his own. Or two.

He left the bedroom and headed straight for Dalia's office again, knocking hopefully on the door. Dalia opened, a mischievous smile on her lips. She stepped aside and let him in before closing the door again behind him. He looked around her office again, this time with the eyes of a magic user who had no ingredients or supplies of his own. Tilting his head, he took stock of what she had. It was good, he could do a lot of things with what was available here.

"What do you need, young Spark?" Dalia asked curiously.

"For you to not antagonize your daughter," Stiles shot her a glare. "You're as much a shit-stirrer as your son is. Absolutely insufferable, but I finally know where he got it from."

Dalia laughed delighted and sat down behind her desk. "You know that I'm right, Stiles. You deserve a life. Hiding out until you need to step in and save someone? That's not a life."

"So, what, are you going to provide me with a fake ID?" Stiles asked, eyebrows raised.

"I do know someone, yes," Dalia smirked. "Say the word and I can order it."

Stiles sat down opposite her and grabbed a pen to fidget with. A fake identity. He'd have to lie if he hadn't thought about this before. His failsafe plans had failsafe plans, after all. And one of them was having to get out and start over. He sucked his lower lip into his mouth, biting it.

"Stiliyan Johnson," Stiles stated and wrote it down on the blank paper in front of him. "Stiles is all I have left. I can't lose my name too. This allows me to still go by Stiles."

Dalia hummed softly, her eyes warm. Stiles turned to look away from her. Tapping the pencil against the paper, he thought about more and started scribbling down more.

"Considering I'm out of time, I can keep my birthday too. Just, well, adjust the year. Make it April 8th uuuhm… math… 1984? Yeah. It's 2003 now, minus 19," Stiles tilted his head. "Let's say I'm from Austin, Texas. Think you can get me a Texan ID?"

Dalia smiled and nodded. "That won't be a problem. There is one small problem though. You."

"Mh," Stiles bit his lip. "I'll take care of that."

That was going too far, wasn't it? He was meddling in his own life. But there couldn't be two Stileses here. And while he was back here, he could improve his own life. Or another Stiles' life, anyway. He licked his lips thoughtfully and got up.

"What else do you need?" Dalia asked.

"For now I'd take an empty notebook, a pencil and maybe some money, until I find something to make my own," Stiles looked at her. "I didn't exactly bring credit into the past."

Dalia nodded and got up. She took a teal-colored notebook with a tree imprint on the cover out of a shelf filled with notebooks. Of course she had a shelf filled with notebooks. She handed him the notebook and then motioned at the pencil already in his hand, before getting her wallet out.

"Until we get you your own pack credit card issued, this should tide you over."

"Pack credit card," Stiles raised his eyebrows. "I am not joining your pack. I'm sticking around, because I made the mistake of bonding with the Nemeton and if I just… if I leave now, things here are going to get very bad very quickly. It'd defeat the point of going back into the past."

The smirk on Dalia's lips was far too pleased. It reminded him so much of Peter, whenever he got what he wanted after some manipulation. Stiles grabbed the notebook and put it in his back pocket. He needed a bag. He remembered the messenger bag he'd gotten from Peter, not long before everything had gone to shit. His heart clenched at the memory of his smug wolf when Stiles had squealed about the expensive red leather bag. Stiles jerked himself out of that train of thoughts.

"Well then, I'll go and get some things done," Stiles smiled cheerfully at Dalia. "See you at dinner."

/break\

Stiles' heart clenched when he saw his dad passed out on the couch. Alive. Images flashed before his eyes, of his lifeless body on the ground, when he'd tried to defend Stiles, save him from being put in the camps. Stiles squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. He could not afford a panic attack right now. Sighing, Stiles sat down on the living room table. He took one more moment to look around, aching for the domesticity of this place. Pictures on the wall of their family, the stupid rug his mom had spilled wine on when they celebrated his dad becoming a deputy. He hadn't been in this place in two years but it felt so much longer. A lifetime ago.

"Deputy Stilinski," Stiles spoke loudly. "Time to wake up."

Noah jerked awake and stared blearily at him. Stiles bit his lip at just how much it hurt to see his dad drunk all over again. Swallowing hard, Stiles straightened up. Not this time. This Stiles wouldn't have to raise himself for so long. This Stiles was going to get what Stiles hadn't.

"Who are you?" Noah reached for his gun, which Stiles had wisely removed. "Why are you here?"

Stiles smiled sweetly and lifted his hands up to show he wasn't armed. "Hey, pops."

"Pops," Noah's eyebrows met his hairline. "Whoever you are, I'm not in the mood for games."

"I'm… You can think of me as the ghost of Christmas future, don't worry, this is just a dream," Stiles offered a crooked grin. "Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't see your son's. Your wife's. Count the moles. I'm Stiles. I'm what will become of your son if you don't get it together."

Noah looked wary but he was also studying Stiles' face closely. "What do you mean."

"You think you're hiding your drinking from him – from me – but you aren't," Stiles' eyes softened. "I always knew. I saw you passed out on the couch. Hell, I usually fixed your files when you were passed out, because I was so afraid you'd lose your job or that CPS would come investigate and take me away from you. At this point in time, he's already running the household, isn't he? And you don't even notice. The laundry that magically does itself? The self-refilling fridge? The boxed meals for you to take to work with you?"

A horrified look crossed Noah's face. "But I thought Melissa-"

Oh. Stiles blinked a couple times and then rubbed his face. So his dad hadn't just ignored it or accepted that Stiles did everything around the house. He'd thought a responsible adult had stepped in and taken care of these things, taken care of Stiles. Something bitter in his chest eased.

"Nope," Stiles swallowed hard and shook his head. "I've been working really hard to hide this from everyone, including Melissa and Scott. Your nine year old son is running his household and doing your paperwork and carrying his own grief and yours."

Noah looked devastated and guilt. He buried his face in his hands. Stiles bit his lips.

"You gotta leave," Stiles' voice was more gentle now. "You… You aren't dealing with your wife's death. You're drowning it in alcohol and you are drowning your son in your grief too. Ask for help. I know uncle Stan and aunt Carol keep calling and you keep ignoring them because you're afraid they'll notice your alcoholism. All you do is drive your support system away."

"What… What do you want me to do?" Noah asked with a heartbroken look.

"Go to Redwood. Get away from the haunting memories in Beacon Hills and let your wife's family help you," Stiles urged him. "You know Stiles always loved the ranch and the horses. The change of scenery alone will help you both, but the help. Uncle Stan, aunt Carol. Even having Mirka and Maggie will help Stiles, because right now, he's isolated."

There was a different kind of ache when he thought about his mom's family. He hadn't seen them since Claudia's death. Only recently had he even learned why. That Noah had pushed them away out of fear of them finding out how poorly he was doing, until they took the hint and contact broke. Maggie was his age, they used to be thick as thieves when they were small. It'd be nice to get a second chance, to grow up with his cousins, with his aunt and uncle.

"It doesn't make you weak to ask for help, pops," Stiles whispered gently.

He let his eyes flash with magic and used some theatrics to make smoke billow around them. Nothing harmful, but enough to put Noah back to sleep and let him more or less forget this conversation. Forget that it was real, at least. It'd be in his subconscious and Stiles really hoped that it would get through to his dad. Getting up, Stiles walked over to pull a blanket over his dad and press a kiss to his temple. He was going to miss his dad, but he also knew he couldn't stay in Noah's life. His dad shouldn't know what happened in Stiles' timeline.

/break\

Peter watched with sharp eyes how the pretty Spark walked the mall, wandering into shops and coming out with bags. Stiles was a mystery and Peter was dying to unravel it. He sipped his overpriced coffee and watched Stiles linger before the leather store.

"Have you finally decided to stop being a Creeperwolf and be a normal person?"

"Creeperwolf," Peter sputtered indignantly as he came up next to Stiles.

Raising his eyebrows, Stiles turned to look at Peter with those deep, near golden-brown eyes of his. "That or Stalkerwolf. Your choice. I know you've been following me since I hit Main Street."

Observant and clever. Peter pursed his lips. He so hated when his little brother was right. The cheeky Spark did seem quite perfect for him. Tilting his head, Peter took Stiles by the arm and pulled him into the store. Stiles made a little noise of protest, but followed willingly.

"You're a mystery and I want to know what you're hiding," Peter admitted readily. "A Spark, after decades without one. Mother gave us your name. There is no record of a Stiliyan Johnson in Beacon Hills. How does the Spark of Beacon County just… appear out of nowhere? And at such a… convenient time, at that. To save the day, on multiple fronts even."

Stiles hummed in acknowledgment while browsing leather jackets. He paused in front of a long red leather coat with a hood. His fingers lingered on it and he smelt delicious. Soft and sweet with want and desire. Peter licked his lips. He wanted to smell that all the time. Sighing, Stiles stepped away from the coat after checking the price tag. Peter raised an eyebrow.

"I've watched you shop," Peter continued, because well, Stiles already knew that. "You bought shoes, jeans, shirts. Underwear. Now jackets?"

"Aside from making you sound so—o creepy for watching me buy underwear, what's the point?"

Peter tried not to grin at how beautifully the boy snarked at him. "You bought your entire wardrobe. It's like you just… spawned at the Nemeton."

"Stepped right out of your wet dreams, mh?" Stiles winked at him teasingly.

"I'm serious," Peter furrowed his brows. "I may not see eye to eye with Talia on many things, but everything about you is… suspicious. I'm going to figure you out, Stiliyan Johnson."

Stiles' eyes sparkled in delight at that. "Show me what you got, Left Hand."

And that was another thing about Stiles was was a mystery. He knew things about this pack. Had known Derek and Peter's names – even the name of Derek's little girlfriend. He'd referred to Ennis by first name before correcting himself to Alpha Dunham. For someone with no record of living in Beacon Hills, he was eerily familiar with things. As intrigued as Peter was, as charmed as he was by the boy's wit, Peter knew not to let himself be deceived. Stiles was a Spark, the most powerful magic user there were, and he had proven to be clever and ruthless too. All very appealing qualities, but also qualities that made Stiles an incredible threat, if he were against them.

"What? Not taking the red bag?" Peter teased when Stiles grabbed a leather messenger bag.

It was brown, but the shade matched Stiles' eyes very well. Considering the red leather coat though, he would have thought Stiles would go for the pretty red bag he'd been eyeing from outside already. Stiles shot him a glare and hugged the leather bag closer and headed to the counter.

"Nope. I don't need a red bag. Way too showy."

"But it'd match the coat," Peter argued as he took the coat.

"I'm not taking the coat," Stiles shot him a glare. "It's… not in the current budget."

Stiles paid for the leather bag with cash. Cash that was held together with Dalia's money pin. It was silver, with a red dahlia flower on top. Peter's father had gotten it for her as a courting gift. So Peter's mother was financing the Spark's wardrobe. This kept getting more and more peculiar.

"What are you doing," Stiles asked frustrated when Peter bought the coat.

To be quite honest, Peter wasn't entirely sure. This was four hundred dollar spent on someone he had known less than a day. But his wolf compelled him, felt so drawn to the Spark. Smiling, Peter held the coat up, giving Stiles a look to make him put it on. With an exasperated sigh did Stiles do as he was being told. And then he started smelling sweet and soft again, happy. Peter's wolf was preening at the knowledge that he had caused that scent this time. Pleased with himself, Peter gathered the shopping bags up, earning a look from Stiles.

"Well, you now know I followed you, so I might as well accompany you."

Rolling his eyes, Stiles led the way to the next shop. Peter smirked as he carried the bags and followed Stiles along. Stiles bought a few more things in the grocery store downstairs, shampoo, bodywash, flowers, herbs and roots. Essentials, as well as magic ingredients.

/break\

Talia was beyond annoyed. Mostly because the Spark had been right. Deucalion confirmed that Gerard had betrayed him, had killed half his pack and then tried to kill Deucalion too. The Spark had shot Gerard to defend a wolf in his territory. And Talia now had the mess to clean up. Argents weren't small time hunters, this could come back with a vengeance.

She had serious words with Ennis too. Told him that Paige would be joining Talia's pack and that Ennis was to leave her territory within the hour and instructed not to return. The summit was called off and Talia sent Kali and Satomi back to their territories too. She offered Deucalion to stay and recover, but apparently, he had promised the Spark that he would leave.

Talia watched with narrowed eyes how Peter's Cobra pulled up in front of the house. Both Peter and the Spark got out of the car, Peter carrying multiple shopping bags. A day and this boy was wrapping her pack around his little finger one by one. Talia's mother was already advocating for him, Derek was ready to start the Spark's fan club because the boy had saved Paige's life, even her own husband had dared voice that it would be a good idea to give the boy a chance. And Damon wasn't even a wolf! He was human. But he'd learned everything there was about their family's history and he knew how important the Spark was for the Hales.

Rationally speaking, Talia knew that too. However, something about this boy had the hair at the back of her neck standing up. He was powerful. Sparks were, by nature. But from everything she had ever read about Sparks, they were like a manifestation of nature. Calm as the trees they guarded, grounded and sturdy. This Spark wasn't like a tree, he was like an untamed thunderstorm. Danger and destruction were surrounding him like clouds. It made Talia's wolf feel uneasy.

"Alpha Hale. I assume you wanted to yell some more," the Spark entered the living room, regarding her. "Would you like me to get your mother, or will it be enough to yell at me?"

It was also the boy's attitude. He had not an ounce of respect for authority, always a quip on his lips. He reminded Talia of all of Peter's worst qualities, the parts that made the siblings edge on. Turning around, Talia regarded him, her lips pressed together into a thin line.

"Thank you for saving Deucalion's life. He has been a family friend for a long time," Talia kept her voice calm. "As the Alpha of this territory, it would be my honor to host the Spark of Beacon County. However, I need you to understand that I am not looking for an Emissary."

"If it'll ease your mind any, I don't have plans on becoming your Emissary. Or any Alpha's Emissary, for that matter," the Spark replied softly. "The only Alpha for whom I would have taken that position died in my arms. I'm not looking for an Alpha or a pack. Just for a place to stay."

For the first time, Talia looked at him with a certain gentleness. The grief was rolling off of him in suffocating waves, she remembered this scent from her own mother after her father's passing. Was that why Dalia took to him? Because she recognized her own grief in the boy?

"I'm sorry for your loss," Talia inclined her head ever so slightly.

"Thank you, Alpha Hale," the Spark offered a thin smile. "And thank you for your hospitality."

Talia heaved a sigh. She'd have Peter look into the boy – though something told her he had already started digging. And perhaps, for now, it would be good to keep him close so she could keep an eye on him. He smiled at her and in that moment, she saw that he knew exactly what she was thinking. He really was dangerous, not just because of the power he contained.

/break\

Stiles was sitting crosslegged on his bed. His gaze kept drifting over to the red leather coat that laid over the back of his chair. His ridiculous wolf had bought him an overly expensive coat. It was painful just how much Peter was just… Peter. Ten years, the Hale Fire, the coma, it didn't change anything. Yes, it had sharpened the edges and hardened him, but those edges had already been there. And the snark, the arrogance, the charm, the clever mind, the hunger for power, the inherent protectiveness over those he considered his? That was already there. All the things he had fallen in love with in his wolf were already a part of this Peter.

Shaking his head, Stiles looked away from the coat and instead focused on the notebook in his lap. He kept scribbling down every rune and every spell that he had ever learned, trying desperately to remember. He hadn't been able to take his spell book with him to the past. Besides the clothes on his back, he only had brought his weapons. Well, 'his' was a bit of a stretch.

His gaze wandered again, finding the crossbow and the gun on his nightstand. His heart clenched as he remembered Chris' steel-blue eyes crinkling with a smile. A lifetime ago. When Allison had still been alive. Stiles had taken the gun from the abandoned Argent apartment. Chris had been long dead at that point, because of course had Gerard gone out of his way to execute his traitorous son first. Chris had died a member of the McCall Pack, back when there still was a McCall Pack. Stiles had thought it would be poetic to kill Gerard with an Argent gun, but then he only had wolfsbane bullets and only a limited amount of them. The crossbow bolt was easily pulled out of Gerard again and could be reused, so Stiles had chosen practicality over irony. Besides, it used to be Allison's crossbow, so it was still an Argent weapon too.

He'd already put enchantments onto his new messenger bag, to make it more spacious and to only allow him to open it. He wasn't going to keep a gun in a household with multiple children, after all. He needed to make sure the pups couldn't get to it. Especially with the wolfsbane bullets.

His clothes were in the closet, a toothbrush in the bathroom. He was going to stay. And staying meant he needed to finish up his To Do List. Suckling the end of his pencil into his mouth, he gave it another once over. He'd written it down at the back of his new spell book.

Kill Gerard – CHECK; prevent the Alpha Pack by saving Deucalion – pending, hopeful

Kill Jennifer-Julia-whatever, just to be sure

save Paige, save Derek from getting blue eyes – CHECK

Kill Kate, prevent the Hale Fire; no Hale Fire no feral Peter no turned Scott

save the Tates, prevent Malia from being stuck in full shift

get Isaac out of his abusive home

make sure Isaac, Erica and Boyd become friends anyway, they need it

save Boyd's sister Alicia

get Chris and Allison out of the Argent clutches

deal with the Nogitsune – CHECK

He turned to look at the small black fox curled together on a pillow on the windowsill, soaking in the sun. There were probably a dozen other things he didn't have the mind to think of right now. He'd add more later. For now, he closed it and collapsed backward onto his bed.

Notes:

Next chapter, Stiles is going to start his apprenticeship with Dalia and settling in with the Hale Pack! Also, Stiles gets to check something off his To Do List ;)

Chapter 3: Life at the Hale House

Chapter 3: Life at the Hale House

Three days after Stiles more or less officially moved into the Hale House, an SUV rolled up. Stiles sat tensely on the windowsill, Void curled up on his lap and letting Stiles pet him. This was not a surprise visit. It had been announced, invited, whatever one might want to call it. Aaron and Damon had taken the children out to a 'fun trip' to keep them out of the house, leaving only the Alpha, the Left Hand, the Right Hand, Dalia and Stiles. Talia had tried to glare him into submission to make him leave too, because this was none of his business. Cute that she thought that might work.

Damn. Young Chris Argent looked as hot as the older version had. Well, if Stiles was being honest, the silver fox look actually made the man more attractive, but still the sharp, steel-blue eyes and shoulders and arms and overall hot hunter look were all already there. Chris and Victoria had come to collect Gerard's body and to ask about what had happened.

"Will you come downstairs and attend the meeting too, dear?" Dalia asked after knocking.

"No," Stiles whispered and shook his head. "I already messed enough with people from my life. I'm not ready yet to mess with Chris'… any more than I have."

After all, he'd killed the man's father. Closing his eyes, Stiles rubbed his face. This Chris wouldn't understand. This Chris had still been under his father's control. This Chris was still a hunter. Stiles still remembered the warm, comforting hand on his shoulder as Chris had soothed him and worked with him to try and find his dad when the Darach had taken Noah. He still remembered the broken man, after his daughter had died – because of Stiles – who had left just to return and help anyway.

Grinding his teeth together, Stiles instead decided to leave after all. Let Alpha Hale have her will, this one time. He couldn't deal with Chris, especially not when the man's wife was there. The woman who'd tried to kill Scott, whose death had twisted Allison and led to so much misery. No, the chance that he might just shoot Victoria Argent point-blank was too big. He needed to get out.

Besides, Talia had all she needed for this meeting. They had Gerard's weapons. The canister of wolfsbane vapor, the gasmask, the horrid bat that mimicked teeth and claws. All the evidence was there and even in this stage of his life, Stiles firmly believed that Chris would see and accept the truth, just as he had done with Kate. Would accept this as the self-defense it was.

/break\

Stiles had been with the Hales for about two weeks when he entered the living room and stumbled a bit in surprise at what he found. Derek and Paige were sprawled out on the floor, papers and books in front of them. And with them was another teenager. Camden Lahey Junior. Isaac's brother. Stiles' racing heart alerted the two wolves in the room, Derek and Paige both looking up at him weirdly.

"Hey, guys," Stiles covered with a grin and waved at them. "Who's your friend?"

"That's CJ," Derek introduced, motioning at the other teen. "We have a history project together. CJ, that's Stiles. He… lives here now, I guess."

Camden Junior – CJ – turned to look at Derek a little disturbed at that and honestly, fair. Stiles practically fled into the kitchen. He hadn't considered this. Factually, he'd known that the swim class Matt had targeted, Camden's class, was also Derek's class. But somehow, he'd never considered that Derek and Isaac's brother might have known each other. Was that why Derek had offered Isaac the bite? Because he'd known Isaac knew the loss of family?

"You okay there?" Damon asked concerned, looking at him.

Stiles startled and looked up at Talia's husband. The man was preparing dinner, apparently. Wearing a blue apron with a cartoon wolf on it, while cutting vegetables. After a moment, Stiles went to get a cutting board and just sat down next to Damon to help him and look less useless.

"Yeah, no, sorry," Stiles chuckled awkwardly. "Don't worry about me."

Damon looked like that was not going to be working. Oh well. Stiles knew living with the Hales was going to be a problem, for multiple reasons. Apparently, a caring and observant Alpha Mate was going to be one of them. He turned his head toward the door, his mind on CJ. He'd hate to use Derek, but Derek's friendship with CJ could be a convenient solution to his Isaac problem.

/break\

"You're doing fine, Stiles," Dalia commented amused. "You just have to focus and sit still."

Stiles' eyes snapped open so he could glare at his mentor. "I have ADHD! I was literally not built to sit still! Ritual magic is disgusting, who thought this was the way to do anything?!"

Groaning in annoyance, Stiles collapsed backward on the pentagram he'd drawn. He knew that part of his frustration rooted from his nature. He was a natural magic user as a Spark. Controlling the weather, the elements, plants, all things nature, came – not to hammer the point home too hard – naturally to him. He barely had to think about it, could do it instinctively and it obeyed.

This? This was unnatural magic. Druids, witches, mages, all they could do was borrow magic from nature. Force it to obey through spells and rituals, pay a price for the ability to perform magic by sacrifice – and that could go from the kind of sacrifices the Darach had made to something as small as the ingredients used in a potion, given in exchange for the magic. It involved actual work. Having to memorize spells and potion recipes, knowing how to draw runes and ban circles properly.

"He's really, really, really bad at this, granny."

Stiles closed his eyes, breathed deeply and suppressed the urge to flip off an eight year old. Lifting his head, he looked at Sloan Hale. Youngest of the Hale girls, daughter of Aaron and Fiona, with her mother's fire-red hair. She sat cross-legged next to her grandmother, watching Stiles.

"Can't you be literally anywhere else, kid?" Stiles asked annoyed. "I don't need an audience."

"But you're funny and silly," Sloan argued. "You always go wuaaahh when it doesn't work."

She mimicked his flailing and he couldn't help the smallest smile. Sitting upright, Stiles straightened his back and started breathing deeply. He was going to get the hang of this. It was important. Not immediately important, but he was the Spark. He needed to master magic. Everything he knew, he had taught himself. Stolen books from Deaton. Even his own magic, it was all instinct and testing his own boundaries. But the actual rules to unnatural magic? The little tricks that weren't in stuffy books? As much as he'd hated Dalia's suggestion at the time, by now he was very grateful to have her mentorship and guidance. And the roof overhead.

"Woooah! Look! Look! It's all glowy!" Sloan yelped excitedly and started clapping.

Stiles opened his eyes and saw the ritual circle he sat in glowing teal. Holy shit, he'd done it. Grinning broadly, he lifted a hand to high-five Sloan, the redhead offering him a toothy grin.

/break\

Peter stood at the kitchen window, watching with sharp eyes how his mother and Stiles worked in the herb garden. They grew vegetables and fruit behind the house, but also herbs – both for cooking and for magic. Peter's eyes darkened when the boy bent over to tend to the plans, his pretty, perfect ass pointing in Peter's direction. One month of this temptation now, really, Peter deserved a medal for not pinning the boy against the library door and fucking his brains out.

"It's not a good idea, Petey."

Peter's nose curled at the loathed nickname. "And why not, Fifi?"

Fiona narrowed her eyes at him. Two could play that game, dear sister-in-law. Smirking, Peter went to sit down next to her at the kitchen table. She had her chin in her hand and had apparently been watching him watch Stiles. Honestly, Fiona was the second to last person Peter had expected to be told off by; her husband being the last person, considering Aaron had been egging him on since day one about how perfect Stiles was for him. With every day, Peter found himself agreeing more. But Fiona? She'd been his best friend even before she fell in love with his brother.

"He may be ten years younger than me, but he is nineteen, he's old enough-"

"Oh, I don't give a damn about the age-difference," Fiona huffed and rolled her eyes. "If you want a pretty twink to call you Daddy in bed, that is entirely your problem."

Peter furrowed his brows. The age-difference had been Damon's main concern. Both for the boy who may not know what he wanted yet, but also for Peter who may get his heart broken if he got too invested in 'a kid who was still finding his place in life and figuring himself out'. Talia had different concerns in regards to the age-gap, she thought it wouldn't look good for her mayoral campaign if her brother started dating a barely legal boy (she didn't vocally admit it, but Peter knew his sister well enough to know this was a concern of hers. 'That is not the problem, stop putting words in my mouth, Peter! The problem is that he is dangerous and you know it. Stop playing with fire, or you'll get burned one of these days, brother.', well, personally Peter didn't mind getting a little burned if the spitfire he was playing with was this pretty).

"He's widowed, Peter," Fiona spoke very softly.

Peter tensed, surprised. "What. He's nineteen."

Fiona hummed and lifted her cup of tea up to sip. "I asked Talia why she changed her mind, after the first week. She told me that he was as uninterested in your mother's scheming as she was. He doesn't want to be Emissary because the only Alpha for whom he'd have taken that position died. Laura saw the scarred mate-bite on Stiles' first day here. Stiles was already a werewolf's mate, an Alpha's mate at that, and he… somehow… lost his mate. And his entire pack."

Slowly, Peter leaned back in his chair, his eyes drawn back outside, where Dalia and Stiles had been joined by Cora and Sloan. Cora was teaching her little cousin how to make flower-crowns out of daisies and Dalia and Stiles were quickly charmed into joining the girls.

"I assumed he'd been in a pack before, but…" Peter trailed off, lost.

He hadn't speculated to what had happened yet. The boy's defensiveness and unwillingness to join the Hale Pack could have suggested that he'd been kicked out of his old pack. And at that age, the thought that he might have lost his entire pack hadn't even occurred to Peter.

"It's not a good idea to chase him, he's still grieving his dead mate. The most you'll end up being is a rebound," Fiona's voice was very soft. "Don't do that to yourself. Or to him. You aren't equipped to handle someone dealing with that kind of grief."

Peter couldn't argue with her on that. He swallowed hard. Non-wolves couldn't feel pack-bonds the same as wolves, but they did feel mate-bonds. It was a binding magic that went both ways. To lose a mate was worse than losing a limb, it was like losing half of one's self.

"Uncle Peter, uncle Peter, uncle Peter!" Cora yelled as she came running in. "Stiles used his magic to make ti—iny roses without thorns! I made you a flower crown!"

She proudly held up the flower crown made of daisy-sized red roses. Grinning at his niece, he grabbed her and lifted her up so she was standing on his thighs and could place the crown on his head. Sloan ran up to her mom and demanded for Fiona to bend down so she could place the dandelion flower-crown on her head. When Cora sat down on the table, happy with her work, the door opened again and Dalia and Stiles entered. Peter was taken aback by how stunning Stiles looked, not just because of the daisy crown. There was a genuine, soft smile on his lips. For maybe the first time since he'd met the boy, Stiles looked carefree and unburdened. His trauma was weighting him down, but he deserved to be carefree like this. Maybe Fiona was right. Maybe what Stiles needed right now wasn't a horny wolf, but a supportive pack. And time to heal.

/break\

The one good thing Stiles had taken away from the exposure of the supernatural and the internment camp were his contacts. They may not remember him, having never met him in this time, but he remembered them. Knew who could be useful and knew them enough to know how to get an in. For the first three months he spent in the past, he slowly built up a network of information and contacts.

"Stop glaring at me, Der," Stiles rolled his eyes while packing. "Hand me the book over there."

Derek, still glaring, handed Stiles the book. His eyebrows drew deeper, actually.

"I won't be gone long," Stiles huffed at Derek's nose-scrunch. "No, a week isn't long."

Derek crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, causing Stiles to roll his eyes. "You are honestly such a Sourwolf. Look, I promise I will be back in time for your big game, okay?"

The look on Derek's face eased some and Stiles' own face softened. "Yeah. I promise."

Derek nodded, pacified by this, and headed out. He walked right past his father, who stared startled from Derek to Stiles and back. Stiles continued packing, waiting to see what Damon wanted.

"Did you… Did you just have an entire conversation with my son's eyebrows?" Damon asked startled. "And I thought Peter was the only one who could read Derek when he's in his mood. Tali and I have been trying for years, but half the time it's guess-work."

Stiles offered the man a broad grin. "I got experience with emotionally constipated werewolves. Besides, it wasn't too hard to guess why he is being grumpy about me leaving."

"You know it's not just about the game," Damon pointed out carefully and then closed the door behind himself. "You spent the first month here complaining about not wanting to stay. He's grown attached to you, he's afraid you'll leave and not come back."

Heaving a sigh, Stiles plopped down on his bed. Void hissed in complaint where he'd been sleeping on the pillow. Once awake, the kitsune's firefly-like eyes zeroed in on Damon. Stiles could feel the demon's desire to hurt and harm and cause chaos. Swallowing hard, he grabbed the fox near forcefully, petting it more so to keep it from lunging at Damon.

"There's something I need to do," Stiles said after a moment. "I will come back. I promised Derek to cheer for him at his game. And I… do like it here."

He turned to look away from Damon at that last admission. He'd grown attached to the Hales, even the Hales he had never gotten to meet before. He was dangerously close to thinking of the Hale House as home. Damon offered a kind smile and nodded.

"Good. We'd miss you if you didn't come back," Damon handed Stiles a box. "I made you sandwiches for the road. Take care of yourself, Stiles."

Biting his lips hard, Stiles accepted the box and put it into his magic messenger bag. "Thanks."

Three months into his stay in the past, his network was running well enough that he had the information he needed to track down Kate Argent. He'd gotten close two weeks ago, but she had been on a mission with Chris and that was something Stiles couldn't risk. She was alone, right now. A bit over a year from now, Kate Argent would start as a teacher in Beacon Hills and seduce Derek, who was still grieving Paige and an easy target to her grooming.

Stiles had saved Paige and he would save Derek. He would never let this woman anywhere near him, or any other Hale. His Hales were not going to suffer, not going to die. He couldn't afford to wait too long on this one, he didn't know how Gerard's death would affect Kate. Maybe she'd move the time-table up, blame the Hales for what had happened to Gerard. He needed to take her out far, far away from Beacon Hills and with none of the Hales even remotely involved.

Shouldering his bag, he left the room, Void trailing after him with a grumble. The chaos demon also needed feeding. Things in Beacon Hills had been painfully peaceful since the summit had been called off. The chaos of that had fed Void well enough – the outfall with Ennis about biting Paige, the death of Deucalion's pack, the death of Gerard – but the kitsune was getting restless again.

"Bring back souvenirs!" Sloan demanded as she collided with his legs.

"Oh, yes!" Cora agreed, hugging him from the other side. "Jewelry!"

"Please be safe, dear boy," Dalia requested as she cupped his face.

"Call if you need any kind of help," Peter practically ordered, a hand in Stiles' neck.

"I can handle myself, Worrywolf," Stiles huffed, giving Peter's arm a squeeze.

Stiles grinned as he said his goodbyes to each Hale. Peter was looking at him with intense eyes and Stiles knew that he knew. The Left Hand had always been able to sense when Stiles' solution to a problem was murder. There was a hard set to Peter's jaw, but he didn't comment or try to stop him. As the Left Hand, Peter also knew that sometimes, there was no way around it.

/break\

"Good morning, Katherine," Stiles smiled sharply where he sat backward on the chair.

Kate's eyes were wide as she tried to move but couldn't. All she could do was lay motionless on the bed and stare directly at Stiles. He was, of course, wearing gloves. No need to leave fingerprints behind, even though there won't be anything left of this chair when Stiles was done.

"Why can't I move?" Kate asked, panic in her voice. "Who are you?"

"Kanima venom. So handy. I've been watching you for a couple days, learned your routine here. It was easy to mix the kanima venom into your coffee earlier," Stiles tilted his head.

He'd followed her to the coffee shop where she had been getting her drinks for the past three days. When her order was up, he took it, put the vile of kanima venom in it and then feigned a mix up, handing the cup to her with an innocent smile and watching her leave. He followed and collected her in the parking lot when her body gave out. He'd chloroformed her to make the transport back to her cabin easier, but he wanted her awake for the next part.

"I've been watching you," Stiles crossed his arms over the backrest of the chair and put his chin on them. "Some people, I think could change, if their circumstances change. But you. No, you are beyond redemption. I dug around about you, I know about the werewolf family in Toronto that you set on fire, the couple in Seattle. You've been a bigoted pyromaniac for years already."

"They're mutts, mindless beasts, they deserve to die," Kate spat.

"I thought you'd say that," Stiles hummed. "You went after the wrong people. You went after my wolves. And I owe you for that. I hope you'll appreciate the poetic irony of your death."

He got up and snapped his fingers. The candle on the bedside table lit up. With a wave of his hand did the wind pick up and the curtain flared up, toward the flame. It caught fire immediately. Kate's eyes widened in fear as the fire spread with ease. The hunters had made it easy for him by renting a wooden cabin in the mountains. The other hunters were chloroformed in their own bedrooms. He'd done his due diligence background check on them, of course. They were as bloodthirsty and merciless as Kate and deserved to share her fate.

Stiles stood next to the bed for a long time, watching as the flames consumed the sheets and then her. He made sure not to breath through his nose, the scent of burning flash was quite disgusting and it made his blood coil to know this was the last thing Talia, Damon, Dalia, Aaron, Fiona, Sloan and Jason had smelt before their deaths. The burning flesh of their own family. Stiles' eyes were hard as he watched with satisfaction how the life drained from Kate.

Nobody would expect foul play here. There'd been a blackout tonight – caused by Stiles' magic, not that anyone could prove it – so the many, many lit candles in the house weren't a surprise. Tragic, truly, that these innocent 'tourists' had to die in such a horrible accident.

Turning around, Stiles walked out of the burning house, the flames gently leaning out of the way to allow him passage. His control over the elements had really improved over the past three months and he'd put a focus on his fire-control, specifically for this reason.

Kate Argent was dead and the Hales would never burn.

/break\

Derek stumbled into the locker room, panic rising in his chest. It was the full moon. During a game. An important game. He rushed to the showers, hoping the cold water would calm him down but he knew his eyes were glowing bright golden. The door to the locker room opened and uncle Peter approached him. Derek looked up at him, growling and snarling, but Peter dragged him out.

Peter gave him shit about his lack of control, which he just really didn't need. Talking about the control they needed to learn, even as born wolves. Derek clutched the Hale talisman, repeating over and over again the family mantra. Alpha, beta, omega. But it wasn't working.

"Damn, you people are useless at this," Derek and Peter both startled and turned toward Stiles. "This is a shit way to control, even Satomi's pack has a better handle on it on account of their mantra being better. Why would this help. That's just pack hierarchy repeated blindly, that has no connection to him. And why do you think yelling at him is going to help, Peter? Seriously. C'mon, Der. You don't need that, what you need is an anchor to keep you grounded."

Derek breathed deeply, feeling a little more at ease now that Stiles was here. He'd promised to be back for the game, but it had started and Stiles hadn't been with the rest of the pack. Jason, Sloan and Cora were too young to be affected by the full moon and Laura had perfect control. Only Derek was the one suffering here and it was embarrassing. Even Paige could control it better than him.

"Focus on Paige," Stiles instructed firmly. "Close your eyes, listen for her heartbeat. She's in the stands with your mom and aunt, you should be able to hear her, right?"

Derek closed his eyes and breathed deeper. His mom had arranged that Paige would be staying over tonight. In the guest room, they'd assured her parents. Really in the basement, to make sure she wouldn't hurt anyone during the full moon. But she hadn't wanted to miss his big game, so Talia and Fiona were flanking her on the stands to make sure they could intervene, if needed. Derek could feel his own pulse slow down as he listened to the steady beat of her heart and the familiar scratch of her fingers on her jeans. Sometimes, especially when she was nervous, she would rehearse even without her cello, just the motions of her fingers, dragging them over her jeans usually. A small smile tugged on his lips when he imagined what she'd look like, nervously rooting for him up there.

"There you go," Stiles sounded proud. "Okay. If you feel like you're losing control again, I want you to hone in on her heartbeat, let it calm you down, try to match her, okay?"

Derek opened his eyes and nodded at him. He then lunged forward and hugged Stiles tight.

"Okay, okay, that's enough mush. Go and beat that other team's ass," Stiles grinned and got up.

/break\

Stiles had become an important part in Derek's life. Which involved him being designated chauffeur for the fifteen-year-old, a lot. It allowed Stiles to spend enough time with Derek's group to become the cool young adult who'd help them out in a pinch instead of the weirdo who just 'lived with Derek's family'. Half a year into his stay with the Hales, he felt like CJ was relaxed enough around him that Stiles could ask without chasing the boy away.

"Okay, we need more snacks," Stiles declared and got up. "C'mon, help me, CJ."

The four of them were playing video games, it was currently a one on one between Derek and Paige and Paige was severely kicking her boyfriend's butt. CJ got up without complaint and followed Stiles into the kitchen to get more drinks and snacks. Heaving a sigh, Stiles caught the kid's wrist, startling him. Gently did Stiles push the long sleeve up enough to show the hand-shaped bruises.

"I've been noticing a lot of these in the past months," Stiles noted softly.

"None of your business," CJ grumbled with a defensive glare.

"Let me guess," Stiles continued, keeping his voice soft. "Your dad, the swim-coach, is not a fan when you aren't the star player. Probably even when you are, because he thinks you should have been able to do even better. And nothing is ever good enough."

CJ tensed and stared at him with wide eyes. "I… I… I don't know what you're talking about."

"You have a little brother, don't you?" Stiles asked, knowing the answer. "Cora's age? You think your father is going to keep only hurting you?"

When you die, he will turn all his rage onto Isaac, was left unsaid. CJ glared at Stiles.

"I'll stay between them until I graduate and then I'll get my own place and take Isaac with me."

Oh. Stiles swallowed hard. But a kid barely out of high school couldn't do much, couldn't take care of another teenager. So CJ had signed up for the army, to get the income he needed to take care of Isaac. Had that been the plan? Enlist, become a respected soldier who surely would be seen as responsible enough to take care of his little brother and then take Isaac in? Instead, CJ had died overseas and Isaac's life had gone to shit. Heaving a sigh, Stiles pushed off the counter.

"I wanna help you. But you need to want my help for that," Stiles whispered. "You don't deserve to be hurt. You don't deserve to feel like a failure or to fear your own father. You don't deserve to be locked into a fucking freezer."

CJ went rigid at that, his eyes wide and his breath quickening. Tears gathered in his eyes, unwanted and out of his control. Yeah, Stiles had feared that Camden Senior hadn't reinvented the wheel for his younger son. Stepping up to CJ, Stiles pulled the kid into a hug.

"You deserve a home where you can feel safe and loved," Stiles declared.

/break\

Talia and Peter shared a look as they found themselves in Stiles' bedroom. The young Spark stood leaning against the window, with his familiar at his feet. The black fox still unsettled Talia, there was something sinister about the creature.

"I have a favor to ask, of the both of you," Stiles looked at them. "Peter, I know you have excellent PIs in your contacts. I want your help building a case against Mister Lahey. One that is solid and can be presented to the court. And, uh… Talia? I… want to take the Lahey kids in. I thank you for your hospitality in these past months, but I know this is asking too much. I'll… I'll find a place of my own in town. I've been looking around already. But I'd appreciate it if you could use your pull with practically everyone in town to help move this case along. I don't want the kids to suffer and to be stuck in the state's care unnecessarily long."

Talia furrowed her brows and she crossed her arms. "I know what he is doing to the boy. I've invited CJ to stay over as often as I possibly could, but… he denies it, runs away when confronted with it. He's never accepted my help beyond a place to sleep. This won't work."

"It will," Stiles grinned at her. "You are… a good Alpha, but you're not very good at connecting with people. I am. I got the kid to finally crack and ask for help. My help. And I will help him."

Heaving a sigh, Talia rubbed her face. "You're nineteen. You want to foster a teenager and a child."

"I have to protect Isaac," Stiles shrugged. "And I accidentally grew attached to CJ."

Isaac was the younger brother. Why did Stiles feel like he needed to protect him?

"We'll find the space," Talia sighed. "The house is big enough."

"What," Stiles blinked startled. "I just said I'd look for a place of my own!"

"You are not fit to raise two abused children on your own," Talia said sternly. "You know nothing about raising a child to begin with. We help each other in this pack. We raise our cubs together."

Stiles stared at her with wide eyes and Talia wondered if that was the moment he realized he was pack. That, without meaning to, he had made himself pack in the past half year. He was Hale Pack.

Notes:

Very little Peter in this one but hey, a sighting of Chris! So yeah. Stiles has So Much Trauma in this fic, we're really slow-burning this bitch. And I wanted Peter to understand that, to see and realize that Stiles needs to heal first. So healing he does, while adjusting to the Hale Pack (and also working off his To Do List)

Next chapter is going to be very Chris focused, because hey - Chris is finally joining the plot! Also, Stiles' plans regarding the Lahey kids will move forward!

Notes:

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