Summary: Stiles and Deaton have a long overdue talk.
Disclaimer: Don't own Teen Wolf. 'Nuff said.
Author's Note: Why has this not been addressed?
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A Fork in the Road
By: Lady Azura
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It was late.
Parked under a broken street lamp and shrouded in darkness, Stiles watched his best friend emerge from the clinic, completely unaware of his presence. He knew that he was at a far enough distance that Scott wouldn't be able to sense him, not unless he was actively trying to, and so he remained where he was, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel of his jeep and mulling over the reason he was there in the first place – on a school night, no less.
His dad wouldn't be thrilled to know he was breaking curfew but really, at this point the Sheriff should really just expect this sort of thing from him. Even before werewolves and other supernatural shenanigans became the norm, he'd been bending and breaking the rules his father had laid down. Whenever he was told not to touch something, he was the kid that went ahead and did just that, if only because it gave him some kind of adrenaline rush or satisfied his insatiable curiosity.
Tonight, though…
His gaze followed Scott as the Alpha pulled out of the parking lot on his bike and sped off down the road. Stiles waited until he disappeared from his line of sight before starting the jeep and driving up.
This was his only chance. With graduation and college just around the corner, his window of opportunity was getting smaller and smaller. He'd already put it off for far too long, and with that in mind, the teen got out and made his way up to the building. Most of the lights were off and a charming "Sorry, we're closed!" sign met him as he approached – a sign he promptly ignored.
The door chimed loudly as he stepped inside, making his presence known. He could hear Deaton shuffling around in the back, probably cleaning up for the night, and walked up to the reception desk. He was about to ring the bell, just to be cheeky, when the vet poked his head out.
"Stiles," the man smiled amicably, nodding his head in greeting. "If you're looking for Scott, I'm afraid you just missed him."
"I'm not here for Scott." Stiles said. "Actually… I was hoping to talk to you."
"Oh?" If Deaton was surprised, he didn't show it. "Regarding anything in particular?"
Stiles rubbed the back of his neck. "Kind of? I mean, I've been meaning to ask you about it for a while but things just kept… getting in the way."
Things like the Darach and the Alpha Pack, his possession by the Nogitsune, assassination attempts, Theo – a never ending onslaught of threats against them and the town. It seemed like every other week, there was some new "bad guy" to contest with.
"I gather this is a supernatural inquiry, then?" Deaton observed.
Stiles nodded.
Wordlessly, Deaton ushered him into the operating room and Stiles followed, wringing his hands anxiously all the while. In an effort to stop, he crossed his arms, trying to appear less nervous than he actually was.
"What would you like to discuss?" Deaton asked.
"The Pack." Stiles said. "Well, my – my role, specifically."
Leaning against the stainless steel counter behind him, the druid mirrored his pose, folding his arms and eyeing him knowingly.
"And what is your role, Stiles?"
Without a beat, Stiles answered. "Emissary."
It was the first time he'd said it out loud, and the word felt foreign on his tongue.
Deaton cocked a brow but said nothing, which the teen took as his cue to elaborate. "I'm probably doomed to stay here for the rest of my life – follow in my dad's footsteps, become a deputy or something but… so is Scott. If the Nemeton is going to keep drawing people – threats – here, Beacon Hills needs someone to protect it, especially now that Derek's gone." He was rambling. He knew he was, but Deaton didn't seem to be judging him, so that was good. "I didn't really think much of it until that stuff with Ms. Blake but… most packs have Emissaries. Don't they."
It wasn't a question so much as a statement. Admittedly, his knowledge of how a pack was supposed to run was limited, and the internet only provided so much information – he realized pretty early on not to rely on that. But he'd picked up on a few things over the years, this being one of them.
"Do you know why?" Deaton's voice cut into his thoughts.
"To keep them grounded to humanity. Only… Scott doesn't have one. Not officially, anyway. I mean, you're an Emissary, or you were, but you're not really Scott's, are you? Not in the way Jennifer was to Kali."
He tried to gauge the vet's expression but it remained as impassive as always.
"No." Deaton said after a moment, shaking his head. "Before I retired, I was Talia Hale's Emissary."
"And now?" Stiles asked.
"Should Derek somehow become an Alpha again, or Cora, and seek me out, I'd be bound to them."
Stiles frowned, thinking back to when Derek had been an Alpha. "Did Derek know you were his family's Emissary?"
"I doubt it. The only one in the pack who knows the identity of the Emissary is – "
"The Alpha. Who would've been Talia Hale at the time." Talia Hale, who was now dead.
Deaton nodded before pushing himself away from the counter he was leaning against. "Stiles, how does one become an Alpha?"
Stiles made a face, throwing the vet a perplexed look. Was that a trick question?
"By killing another Alpha." He said slowly.
"Right. Or, in very rare cases such as our friend Scott, through sheer force of will. However, with born wolves – like the Hales – it's a little different. It's almost always the firstborn who inherits the Alpha power. That's why when Talia died, Laura became the Alpha. Had Peter not killed her, Laura's own firstborn child would have likely become the Alpha after her and so forth."
"Why are you telling me this?" Stiles asked.
"Because Talia knew Laura would succeed her, and would have eventually passed on the identity of their Emissary to her had she had the chance."
Oh.
"So… you never tried to contact Laura?"
For the briefest of seconds, something akin to an actual emotion flickered across Deaton's face – guilt. It was gone just as quickly as it came, but by then Stiles had his answer.
"I blamed myself. For not having the foresight to realize just how far Gerard would go to… eradicate the Hales." He said plaintively. "Shame is a powerful thing. You might think it cowardly –"
Stiles snorted.
"Yeah, no shit. Maybe Derek wouldn't have been such a lousy Alpha if he'd had someone to confide in." Foot in mouth. He reeled his anger back in. "Sorry."
"Don't be." Deaton smiled wryly. "By the time I worked up the courage to approach Laura, she and Derek had already left Beacon Hills. After that… there was no reason for me to continue the practice. So I retired. I never planned on picking up the mantle again, but then…"
"… then Scott got bitten." Stiles finished, feeling a familiar pang of guilt. He was the reason Scott had been out in the middle of the woods that night; a wheezy, asthmatic kid made perfect prey for a vengeful, bloodthirsty Peter Hale.
Deaton nodded grimly. "I failed Talia and her family, but I promised myself that I'd do all I could to help Scott on his journey. And I have, within my capabilities. But the bond between Alpha and Emissary is… permanent. You'll be bound to Scott for the rest of your life."
"I've been bound to Scott since pre-school." They were like two peas in a pod. Scott was his better half – his moral compass, his confidante, his brother. His Alpha.
The corner of Deaton's mouth quirked.
"It won't be easy."
"If you're trying to talk me out of –"
"I'm not. In fact, I'm glad you came to me. I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to."
That took Stiles aback. For about a split second, before he narrowed his eyes.
"You knew I was meant to be Scott's Emissary all along and you never thought to, I don't know, mention it?" He could've already been training!
"I suspected. But I couldn't influence your decision. This had to be a conclusion you came to on your own and even then, you might have chosen a different path." Deaton said simply.
Stiles thought back to Peter's offer in the parking garage – the opportunity to become like Scott, and be more than just skinny, defenseless, human Stiles. It had been tempting, and yes, sometimes he still thought about it, about how different his life would be had he accepted the Bite, but he didn't dwell long. Despite his physical shortcomings, he was perfectly content being human; it didn't mean he was weak. He'd earned his place in the pack – by Scott's side.
But he could do more. He knew he could, if given the right tools.
"You have good instincts, Stiles. You're intuitive in ways that Scott, despite being a werewolf, has not yet learned to be." Deaton said after a moment. "But he will. One day."
"Scott thinks I'm paranoid."
"Better to be cautious than to trust blindly that everyone has noble intentions. Deucalion learned that the hard way." The vet replied gravely.
Stiles' thoughts immediately drifted to Theo and he clenched his fists as a surge of anger flared up inside him. Deaton didn't appear to notice, instead making his way over to the cabinets on the opposite side of the room. As he rifled through them, he went on.
"Scott will need an official Emissary in coming years, someone to serve as an ambassador on his behalf – a link between the natural world and the supernatural – but not just anyone can fill that role. Not only do they need to be human, they need to have a deep connection with the Alpha. Both of these are vital in keeping him, as well as the rest of the pack, tethered to humanity."
That… sounded like a lot of responsibility.
No pressure. No pressure at all. Just keep everyone grounded. Peace of cake.
"So," said the druid, dragging the teen's attention back to him. "Now that you're aware of what being an Emissary entails… are you up to the task? Once you choose this path, there's no going back."
It was a no brainer, of course.
He'd been with Scott since the beginning. Scott was a werewolf because of him (well, partially) – the least he could do was this.
Stiles nodded eagerly, licking his lips. "Yeah. Totally. Sign me up. Teach me your ways, Obi-Wan."
To his credit, the reference did not seem to be lost on Deaton, which meant he was at least familiar with Star Wars – unlike a certain True Alpha who still hadn't watched the movies – so Stiles' opinion of the vet slash druid slash ex-Emissary instantly skyrocketed in that few seconds.
"I'm glad you're so enthusiastic." Deaton said, trying very hard to mask his amusement as he made his way back over and handed Stiles a stack of books.
The weight caught Stiles by surprise, causing him to nearly drop them, but he recovered in time.
"Uh…" he struggled to balance the stack in his arms as he poked his head around to give the older man a perplexed look. "What are these?"
"Oh? Just some light reading. To prepare you."
Light reading? Was – was that a joke? Did he think he was being funny? Stiles stared incredulously but Deaton didn't miss a beat.
"Consider it your homework for the next few nights. You have a lot of catching up to do, Mister Stilinski."
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FIN
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And… that's that. Hopefully you enjoyed. Please REVIEW and let me know what you think!