Author's Note: Hello, everyone! One-shots became my addiction—I need help. Seriously. I've been writing this for months now, and the scenes kept on popping into my head, which meant finishing it was a struggle, 'cause I just wanted to keep going, for another 10K, at least. I decided to leave where it is; it seemed to be the best place.

The story follows canon until season 6a, ignoring most of what happens on 6b. I've messed around with some stuff, because, well, because I wanted to. Allison is still alive and part of the pack, for example. Most of it is still the same, though.

Anyway, I hope y'all like it!

PS: I've decided to divide this story into chapters. It became too long, and I don't have a Beta, so it would've been a pain in the ass to edit such a document all at once. I have the whole thing written already, so don't worry. It will probably be divided into three or four chapters, I think.


"Do not follow where the path may lead. Go instead where there is no path and leave a trail."

– Ralph Waldo Emerson


Stiles didn't bother knocking or announcing his presence in any form, he just opened the back door with his illegally acquired key and strode in, knowing the Druid had long noticed his presence.

"Hey, doc," he greeted, his eyes landing on the small, unconscious dog lying on the table. "Killed many dogs today?"

Deaton smiled, a needle in his hands. "Sparkles needs stitches; he's not dying. I'm sure he appreciates your concern, though." When Stiles moved to lock the door, the veterinarian added, "I should ask for that key back."

"Sparkles? What kind of person names their dog 'Sparkles'? I'm offended; it's what I am. All Sparkles around the world are offended by this dog," Stiles protested, ignoring the jab about the key, as he always did. "Some of us had to work for that title."

"No, you didn't," he pointed out, rather rudely in Stiles' opinion, spraying the wound with rubbing alcohol. "What are you doing here?"

"Hey, maybe I just wanted to enjoy your lovely, mystic presence."

Deaton stopped, turned his head, and gave him a look. "Is that what you're going with?"

Without any further prompting, Stiles caved. "Ok, no. No, I'm here because today is the full moon and we'll be going to—"

"I'll be fine, Stiles," Deaton interrupted, knowing exactly where the conversation was going. "Stop worrying so much. Someone needs to stay behind and keep an eye on everything—you know that. And no, before you ask, it cannot be any of you. I'm not pack. I had mine... once. Now it's time you all found your own pack, together."

"We may need you!" Stiles whined. "What if this woman is kidnapping us?"

"She's not kidnapping you," Deaton explained patiently, quickly tying the last of the stitches. "It's a privilege to even get to meet Althea, Stiles. She doesn't receive many visitors. In fact, she claims to prefer remaining uninvolved with the mundane workings of life."

"What if she's a psycho, though?"

"Stiles, she's a thousand years old. She's a Fae. She's The Fae," Deaton said, a mischievous smile on his face. "Of course she's a little psycho."

Great. Just what he needed on his last vacation before going away to university—another psycho.

"Go home, Stiles. Get some sleep. Rest. Don't worry so much."

Easy for him to say.


Despite Stiles' trepidation, in the end, it all happened so fast.

He had, indeed, gone home to try to get some few hours of sleep. Surprisingly, he fell asleep without much difficulty, the stress of the day catching up to him all at once, leaving his body weighing a ton all of a sudden. His bed had felt so fucking comfortable and good that he barely remembered getting up and driving to the preserve.

The pack was there, waiting. None of them knew exactly what they were waiting for, but they stood together, eyes scanning the area for the arrival of the elusive Fae.

She never came.

A portal opened two minutes after midnight—an honest to God hole in space—, showing them a large clearing, illuminated only by the moonlight on the other side, and Stiles swore he saw a white rabbit hopping in the distance.

Awesome. They were going to fucking Wonderland—no way would that backfire on them.

Scott stared at the portal, maybe waiting to see if his eyes were tricking him, failing to move until Kira elbowed him.

"Right, yeah, let's do this," he said, squaring his shoulders.

A second later, Stiles looked at Lydia. Where they seriously about to do this?

"You're going to let him alone with her?" Lydia asked, pointing to Scott, who had already crossed and stood at the other side, watching the others go, one by one. By the look on her face, she already knew that Stiles would rather cut his own arms off then to be separated from Scott again.

Stiles exhaled, regretting that whole thing. "No fucking way," he said. "Let's go."

They were the last two to cross, and when the portal closed the second they passed, leaving them basically trapped in God knows where, without a clue on how to go back to Beacon Hills, Stiles felt a weird tingle in the back of his neck.

He turned, and there she was.

Althea wasn't what Stiles expected her to be—and, ok, maybe his mind had gone a bit haywire with the possibilities, and he expected more of a goddess than a human being, but it was still a shock to see her standing there, normal and almost… ordinary?

At first sight, there was nothing magical about her. Black hair, black eyes, medium stature, and a long white linen dress covering her entire body. If Stiles had crossed paths with her on the streets, he wouldn't have looked twice.

"Welcome to my domain, Alpha McCall," she greeted with a wave of hands, her voice loud and deep in the quiet of the night. She spoke directly to Scott, plainly ignoring the rest of them. "It's a great pleasure to see you, at last. I'm Althea."

"Thank you for having us," Scott said, and Stiles could see his best friend trying to hide his discomfort. "I'm Scott, but I guess you already know that…"

She nodded, a small smile hanging on her lips, yet she said nothing else, still staring at Scott, as though she was waiting for him to keep going. Well, she obviously didn't know Scott. If she thought he was going to catch a clue from her weird silence, then she had another thing coming.

"Will you not introduce me to your pack?" She finally asked when it became clear that Scott was more than happy to allow the silence to stretch.

"Oh! Yes, I, of course," he said, tripping over the words in his rush. He gave her a small smile in apology. "Sorry. This is my pack. Stiles, Lydia, Derek, Chris, Peter, Theo, Jordan, Malia, Allison, and Kira. Guys, say hi."

It was much like a parent introducing his kids, and Stiles could see Peter rolling his eyes, but they all intoned a chorus of 'hi' on cue, some more awkwardly than others.

"You're an... unusual pack, I must say," Althea said, eying them closely. "A kitsune, a chimera, a werecoyote, a banshee, a hellhound, a man who's been touched by death, two former alphas, a True Alpha, two hunters, and a spark. Not just any spark, of course, but one who's been touched by a nogitsune."

"That's me," Stiles murmured sarcastically. "Just plain old former-possessed-by-an-evil-spirit me."

"Indeed," she carried on, as though Stiles hadn't spoken at all. "It's not every day one has the opportunity to witness the beginning of greatness so closely. Although… greatness keeps slipping through your fingertips, doesn't it? Very unfortunate."

"Someone is straightforward," Peter commented darkly.

"You are a peculiar group. You all claim to be pack, act as though a pack has been formed and as if you all feel pack bonds connecting you to one another, and still, you're yet to form a proper pack structure. I wonder why. Certainly not from lack of knowledge?" She suggested, her eyes sliding to Peter with a pointed look.

He shrugged. "Our priority has been somewhat misplaced over the past year, I'm afraid."

"Has it? Hun. I suppose so. It's not a good enough justification, nevertheless. Tell me Mr. McCall, had it ever occurred to you that you need to pick your right hand, your successor? Or has the possibility of death not passed through your mind?"

"I've definitely thought about dying many times since I've been bitten, if that's what you're saying. I just never realized I should be the one to choose a second, I guess."

"What about a left hand? Someone to oppose you and your ideas? Someone who isn't afraid to question you and your authority if it came down to it?"

This time the answer came without delay. "That's easy. Stiles has been nagging me since we were four."

Stiles made a face, giving Scott a pointed look. "Excuse me, I don't nag, I explain your mistakes. Your many, many, many mistakes."

"Is that so?" Althea asked, a clear rhetorical question if Stiles ever heard one. "Eleven members, too. Curious. Eleven is a powerful number, Mr. McCall. For a pack, it symbolizes a great deal."

Scott didn't seem all that excited by that, which Stiles thought was a pretty reasonable response. After the truly unexplainable number of crazy shit that tried to kill them, the excitement over magical stuff kinda died down a little. "Like what?"

"The number eleven is a master number. And not just any master number—one of the most powerful ones, I would say. It's about masculine and feminine energy," she said, glancing pointedly at Scott, Kira, and Allison. "It's about a deep connection with the spiritual world and the material world... the plants, the animals, the many beings. More than anything, however, the number eleven is all about balance, which, for a pack, is the greatest possible gift."

"I'm not sure I'm sold on the whole numerology thing," Stiles couldn't help but say, wincing when Lydia stepped on his foot quite hard.

"It doesn't surprise me," Althea said, and she didn't seem offended, so Stiles counted that as a win. "Come, I shall show you to the house. Please, follow me."


The house was beautiful in the mystical sort of way Stiles had expected Althea to be—a big, two store white house, with a spacious porch on the front, multiple plants surrounding the place. The full moon stood right above the place, shining its light all over space in such a strong way that no other source of lighting was necessary.

No key was necessary to enter, either. In fact, the door didn't even have a handle or a lock, Althea simply pushed it open with her hands, leading them to the living room, where a massive dark green couch occupied the majority of the space. She wordlessly mentioned for them to sit down, so Stiles dropped his body on the arm of the sofa, resting his legs on Chris' lap.

"I would like to learn about you as a pack. From what I've heard, there's been a multitude of supernatural incidents in the past few years. Tell me about your pack," Althea asked, as her body seemed to fold magically on itself as she sat down directly on the floor. "I was under the impression that you had bitten a young beta."

"What is this?" Peter sneered from his place next to Kira. "Bonding moment?"

"Yes," she responded calmly, never sparing him a look.

Scott nodded. "I did, yeah. Liam," he explained, leaning a bit forward to rest his elbows on his thighs. "He's still in school, though. I never wanted to turn anyone, and with him, it kinda just… happened. But then he started to date Hayden, and he's got Mason and Corey with him, and then Brett and Lorilee sort of started to… gravitate, almost, towards him, and things changed." He shrugged, although his expression remained serious. "He wants to be an alpha—I understand."

"He's an idiot," Stiles corrected, unable to hear his bro being so casual about it. Liam would've been dead a thousand times over without Scott to save his sorry ass—the least he could do was show some goddamn respect.

Allison clearly agreed. "He's something."

"Guys," Scott mumbled. "Not this again. He's free to do what he wants, c'mon."

"What? You want to defend him, fine, but I'm not going to sit here and pretend that I like it. Liam's barely in control of himself, and now he wants to be an alpha? It seems irresponsible to let him be in charge of so many lives."

Derek shifted in place. "Scott wasn't that much older when he became an alpha, Stiles."

Stiles frowned at him. Surely, Derek was not comparing the two of them. "You're joking, right?" He asked, incredulous, but when the werewolf only raised an eyebrow, allowing his point to stand, Stiles couldn't let help but snap. "Scott didn't have a choice—it's not like he chose to be an alpha, Derek. Let's be honest, between Creepywolf here." He tilted his head toward Peter. "And all the shit that went down…" The words died in his mouth. "…It's just not the same."

Derek seemed to understand, though. "You mean between Peter's shit and mine, right?" He pressed, self-depreciative.

"Derek," Stiles began, wanting to say something—anything—to wipe that expression from Derek's face. However, it wasn't like he could lie through his teeth and pretend the man had been a fantastic alpha to his best friend—damn, to any of them. He was sure Derek knew of his shortcomings better than he did, in any case. The guy had a serious self-esteem problem.

So he said nothing, and the silence stretched for long, uncomfortable seconds, where no one dared to say a word, less they made the situation even more awkward. And yet again, it was Scott who came to the rescue.

"You did the best you could," he said, and fuck it if he didn't sound sincere. He smiled at Derek, meeting the man's eyes and shaking his head softly, as if to say it was all right between them, before he turned to Stiles. "And I did have a choice," he admonished with a calm voice. "I chose to be an alpha, Stiles. Yeah, there was the whole True Alpha deal that no one saw coming, but, in the end, it was my choice, and I chose to be an alpha, to take control, to lead this pack. Don't diminish my choice like that."

"Deaton saw it coming," Lydia corrected, not without a hint of disapproval in her voice.

It was true, and Stiles wanted to agree, but he was still reeling from Scott's sudden sternness, feeling quite impressed by the whole thing despite his better sense. God, since when Scotty acted so grown up and shit?

"Lydia," Scott warned. "Not now."

His girlfriend huffed, clearly unhappy with the shutdown. She said nothing, though, turning back to face Althea, who was watching the whole thing in silence, a considering look on her face.

"It is true that to be a True Alpha one has to want the power," she finally said. "Your former beta, how does he plan to become an alpha?"

"He doesn't. He's the acting alpha, let's say, and the others seem okay with it."

Peter snorts quietly from the corner. "Sounds like a solid plan."

"Like I said," Stiles repeated. "He's an idiot."

"It that really his plan?" Kira asked, frowning. "Isn't that dangerous?"

"Yes! It's fucking dangerous, especially for a human bomb like that kid."

"I'm not forcing any of them to submit to me," Scott stated firmly, not ready to budge an inch.

Althea hummed in consideration, her eyes shifting all over the place as she tried to gouge the reaction of all the people in the room. "They'll need an alpha sooner or later," she said, stating it as the fact it was. "One cannot 'act' as an alpha and hope for the best—that's not the way werewolf's bonds work. I'm guessing this is a recent development?"

"Very," Theo agreed, rolling his eyes. He, out of all of them, looked the least concerned about Liam's fate. "Kid's got all cocky after the Wild Hunt. I give him two months to cave – three, if I'm being generous."

"Weren't you the one who saved his life at the hospital?" Jordan asked, confused.

"Not because I have a soft spot for him," Theo explained. He turned his head in Jordan's direction. "Scott asked me to keep him alive. With the way he hurried to jump into the fights, it was either helping or watching him get killed."

"Doesn't he want to be an alpha?" Stiles mumbled darkly. "Should've let him win his own fights."

Derek's eyes narrowed. "Seriously, Stiles, what's the deal between you and this kid? Isn't he, like, fifteen?"

"Sixteen," Stiles corrected, running a hand through his hair. He took a deep breath, trying to hold the words in, but they stumbled out of his mouth anyway, heavy and bitter. "He almost killed Scott, Derek. What? Am I supposed to like him or something?"

Peter being Peter pointed out: "So did you."

It all happened at once; Stiles flinched at the reminder of his time being possessed by the Nogitsune, Derek growled at his uncle, Lydia snapped at him to shut up, and Scott flashed his eyes at him. Stiles lowered his head, shame clinging to his very pores, feeling the familiar self-hatred pouring in waves inside his mind, drawing out the memories, the images, the sweet bloodthirst that had once surrounded his mouth like candy.

It wasn't a lie. Not too long ago he had been the one literally twisting the sword inside Scott—and worse: liking it, wanting it, craving each whimper of pain that left his best friend's mouth, knowing it had been just the beginning of the chase. Stiles didn't have the moral ground to judge Liam—not after all that he had done—and it grated his nerves, making his jaw clench.

It should be his prerogative to hate anyone who tried to kill Scott. As a brother, that should be his right, if nothing else.

"Shut up, Hale," Chris snapped, his hand going to Stiles' knee. He rubbed it through his jeans, going for a comforting pattern.

"I apologize," Peter said, and weirdly enough, he sounded almost genuine. "It was merely a joke."

"We could do without your jokes." Lydia's voice could cut steel.

Ignoring the weird, heavy mood settled around the room, Althea carried on with her questions: "And what have you learned, Scott, as an alpha?" She stared deep into Scott's eyes, obviously giving a lot of weight to the answer he was about to give.

Scott considered for a moment, and when Stiles' raised his head, he could almost see several possibilities crossing his mind in a rush. Sue him; he wanted to know the answer. Scott finally glanced away from their staring contest, his eyes landing on Stiles. "To trust Stiles," he said, at last, with a small smile. "Even if it doesn't make sense to me, even if I don't understand what he's talking about. We're very different people, and sometimes that makes it hard for me to follow his line of thoughts. It doesn't matter, though, because that's why we work—it's the reason we are Scott-and-Stiles. We just… complete each other, I guess."

"Dude," Stiles whispered, knowing his face was doing a complicated thing as he tried hard not to cry. And, yeah, Scott was right. They were best friends, brothers, Scott-and-Stiles. Even in the middle of all that had happened to them over the years, and despite the distance that inevitably was created between them as more and more shit piled up in their consciousness, that hadn't changed. He didn't want it to.

Scott gave him a tiny nod, acknowledging the lines of unspoken words passing between them before his eyes slid to Theo. "But also that I have to stand for what I believe, regardless of whether the others will agree or not. I'll never stop trying to save everyone I can, even when it's not the easy choice to make—especially when it's not the easy choice to make. People change, and we only get to see that change if we give them a chance."

Theo winced at the words, still unaccustomed with Scott personal brand of sweetness, and rolled his eyes when Kira elbowed him in response.

After that, Scott met Althea's eyes once again. "I learned to lean on my pack; it's what I'm trying to say. I may be the alpha, but it doesn't mean I should do everything myself. It makes no sense, and it's a disservice to the people who have my back. So, yeah, that," Scott said, shrugging in the end, like it was no big deal that he had just admitted all that in front of a complete stranger.

Althea considered the words for a long moment, her stoic face giving nothing away, which had Stiles itching in his seat to say something, anything, to fill the silence. Maybe he should clap. Yes, he should definitely—

She turned to him with a calculating look. "And you?"

"Me? I'm not the alpha."

"You're his best friend, his pack mate, his left-hand. I believe your answer is worth quite a lot, Mieczysław."

He winced. "Must you?" When all he got was a raised eyebrow, he carried on. "Geez, I don't know, lady. The same?"

"Stiles!" Lydia hissed, her lips pursed tight.

"Look, what do you want me to say? You look like you already know the answer, so why are you sitting here, directing this therapy session? I don't do so good with psychologists."

"Are you always this deflective?"

Derek snorted. "Yes. I found that pushing him against a wall usually gets his mouth going."

Lydia threw a smug smile his way. "Funny. Me too."

"Lydia!" Allison called in surprise.

"We're not leaving, are we?" Kira suddenly asked, looking at the dark sky shining outside the window.

"I would prefer if you stayed for the time being," Althea confirmed with a nod of the head. She turned to face Scott "I've arranged the house for your pack. There are rooms, clothes, and food—all waiting for you. I believe we still have much to talk about, and I can see some of you need the rest."

And Scott, the lovely idiot, swept the circle they formed with his eyes, barely registering the curious yet cautious looks they all had on their faces before agreeing with her. "That would be good, yeah. I'm pretty knackered, myself. Is it okay if we make ourselves at home?"

Althea looked barely surprised by Scott's easy acquiescence. "Absolutely. As I said, I've readied the place especially for this occasion, and it would be a shame to see it go to waste, so please, do make yourselves at home here. Nothing is off limits. I'll come back once you all had a chance to get proper rest."

The way she said it, calm and pointedly, as though it was a practiced speech, only served to once more send a weird tingle down Stiles' spine. Something about that place felt both strangle, in a way that made alarms ring inside his head, and, even more concerning, familiar, much in the same way he felt at his own home, where he felt at peace and relaxed. It was a paradox.

He said nothing, though, choosing to remain quiet in his place, leaning almost all the way into Chris' shoulder and barely resisting the urge to place his head in the crook of the man's neck, if only to close his eyes for a moment. His instincts weren't screaming at him to get the fuck out of there as they usually did in a dangerous situation; he would choose to interpret that as a good enough sign for them to stay.


Even after Althea left, getting up and nearly fucking floating away, all mysterious eyes and flowy hair, no one moved from their places, apparently agreeing in an unspoken consensus that a pack meeting was necessary.

"That was weird," Malia broke the silence, her voice somewhat hesitant. "Right? I wasn't there only one who thought so."

"No, you weren't," Peter agreed with a look. "When Deaton said she wanted to see us, this wasn't exactly what I had in mind."

Stiles mind was running in the same direction as Peter's, as usual. When the opportunity to meet a Fae who wanted to help them instead of being excited by the idea of murdering them presented itself, Stiles couldn't contain his excitement. It was an excellent opportunity for the pack to make allies, but this…

"Deaton said it might be a possibility, that she would want us to stay for longer than a few hours. I mean, there's not much she can do to help in such a short time, anyway," Scott shrugged, visibly unconcerned.

Lydia narrowed her eyes, in a way that Stiles knew meant business. "Deaton's not pack, Scott. He's refused every offer we've ever made, and, instead, chose to give us cryptic clues whenever he felt like helping us while extending the same courtesy to other packs in the meanwhile—even those who meant us harm, like the Alpha Pack, I might add," she said cuttingly. "'Till when will you blindly listen to his guidance without even our input or knowledge?"

Stiles winced. Scott was not going to be happy with the harsh way Lydia worded her question—that she spoke only the truth would only make it worse.

"Deaton saved all of our lives in the past couple of years, Lydia, including yours. He's done nothing to deserve our distrust."

Stiles gave him a look. "Not true, bro. Not true at all."

"C'mon Scott, don't be so boringly naive," Peter drawled. "Even Talia knew better than to place her unchecked faith into the hands of an unbound Druid."

"So what? You think she's dangerous? That Deaton sent us here to be killed?"

Stiles shook his head. "I have no doubts that she's dangerous," he said. "You're a predator, mate. An alpha. If I can smell the power heavily clinging to her, then you have to as well." When Scott opened his mouth to comment, Stiles raised both his hands, silently asking him to wait. "I'm not saying she's gonna hurt us, or that Deaton knowingly sent us to a dangerous situation. What I am saying, however, is that I agree with Lydia—this is something you should've discussed with us. Even if he's someone you trust, we're still your pack, and we deserve better than to have information withheld from us like that."

"Stiles is right," Allison said, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees, her head on her hands. "I mean, I kind of figured we wouldn't leave that quickly, with her having us arrive in the middle of the night and everything, but still..."

"Yeah, still," Lydia snapped.

Without warning, Chris' wrapped his large hand around one of Stiles' ankle, holding just on that side of painful, and it was all it took for him to realize the hunter was carrying a whole lot of tension on his shoulders, sitting straight and flat.

Discretely Stiles leaned his leg more into the man's body, allowing his lower leg, knees, and thigh to come into contact with the other's body. Chris' response was to bend his wrist to accommodate the move, not reacting to the touch in any outright way, but Stiles figured that if his familiarity hadn't been wanted, then Chris wouldn't have had a problem letting him know.

With that settled, he shifted his attention back to the conversation to see that Scott was looking a whole more apologetic and Lydia a lot calmer.

"—shouldn't have. I promise," Scott said, pausing for a second before adding with a grin. "But I do have a good feeling about her. I dunno; she seems cool."

"Let us agree that you don't have the best track record with that sort of thing," Theo, of all people, pointed out, turning to stare Stiles head-on. "What's your feeling?"

"Oh, my. How the tables have turned, hun?" Stiles could help the dig. Sue him, but he figured he deserved that, at least.

Derek snorted, Peter grinned, Chris' hand on his ankle squeezed just the tiniest bit harder, and Lydia rolled her eyes, but Theo? Theo just shrugged, allowing the dig to roll past him.

"What can I say? You were right, even in my thirst to become an alpha I saw that you were the obstacle between Scott and me," he admitted, shaking his head to the side to get the long hair off his face. "It seems obvious to ask."

At that, Stiles took a moment to gloat, sliding his eyes to Scott, mentally patting himself on the back. He had promised to protect his best friend until the end of the line, being his bastard, distrustful self to the best of his abilities, no matter how many times Scott tried to convince him otherwise. And despite Scott's earlier words, where he too had admitted to needing that, it was Theo's words that finally got the satisfaction rushing through his system.

Damn if it wasn't nice to be alive to hear those words after all the shit they went through.

"Don't go getting him all big-headed," Derek warned, although his smile betrayed him. "His ego is big enough as it is."

"Oh, shut up, Sourwolf," Stiles said, turning to answer the original question. "As for Althea… I don't know. Is it weird if I say that I feel like staying and running, both at the same time?"

Allison nodded. "Yes."

"Also, it doesn't really help us," Lydia pointed out.

Stiles shrugged, trying to explain as best as he could. "It's weird. Everything about her seems off to me—like she's hiding something. Something big. And that makes me itchy. With our track record, this is enough to get me suspicious, if nothing else. At the same time, though, I get the strangest feeling that this is where we're supposed to be."

"What are you? A third grade psychic?" Peter asked, rolling his eyes. "At least pretend to make sense."

"Whatever."

"We're staying," Scott decided, getting up from the couch and stretching his entire body, hands over his head and head tilted to the side. "It's late, and we need sleep. If any of you still feels like leaving in the morning, we'll discuss. How does that sound?"

"Right now?" Malia asked, also getting up. "Fucking good. I want to sleep for, like, sixteen hours."

Stiles nodded in agreement, having no further arguments to defend either side, and just decided to roll with it. There was something about Althea, something about that house, that land, that unnerved him, and he wanted, needed, to know what it was.

Was it a smart decision? Perhaps not, but no one had ever accused Stiles of being a reasonable person, and he wasn't about to start now.


AN2: I'll try to post the next chapter this weekend, okay?

I hope y'all liked it. I've been writing this story for so fucking long; I've grown kind of attached to it, to be honest. Anyway, do let me know what you guys thought about it. Reviews and comments are always appreciated. Xoxo.