So... here we are! The Book Fair, while great on its own, wasn't quite as great as I was hoping it'd be. I do hope at least some of you might be interested in buying my books (either paperback or digital) at some point. English and Spanish, I've written most of them in both languages so you get to choose! They're available in both Amazon and B&N. So please, go read! Help me earn some money with my writings (no, I don't plan on stopping writing fics any time soon, but still, it'd be nice if more people would read my original novels, the ones I'm actually getting paid for).

This AU is a tad different from the ones before, that's mostly because I ended up putting more focus on the crossover than I usually do. That's probably because I was so deeply into Teen Wolf at the time... still, I love how it turned out and hope you will too.

This one is going on the 'can mostly be read as a stand alone' because while you can probably understand it without having read any of the other fics in the series, some of the things that happen might not have the same impact unless you know who each of the characters are. On the TW front I recommend watching until at least mid-season 3. That's about all I use from canon, though some things from the remaining seasons do happen, even if not in exactly the same way (for obvious, and not-so-obvious reasons).

The fic is written completely in 3rd Person POV, it just worked better this way.

Dreamcast: Emily Browning as Nightingale, Kristin Scott Thomas as Kathryn Salani, Amanda Seyfried as Ylva, Shiloh Fernandez as Fenrir.


Ravensoul

(Alternative Universe to Nightingale)

By: Lalaith Quetzalli

Ravens are messengers and wardens, are birds of mischief, audacity and magic, they're mediators between life and death, they can be hunters or protectors; all that is needed is a choice… and sometimes that one choice may change more than the one life, it may rewrite history, destiny itself as we all know it.

Hunters

The Wolf and the Raven hunt together, wing and claw, always together.

Many people thought that because he had ADHD, because he was easily distracted, that he could not focus at all; that wasn't true. It was hard, yes, but when he had a reason to do so he could not only concentrate, he was capable of such single-minded focus that he tended to see things, make connections, no one else could. Truth be told, he was a bit of a genius, even if no one else knew it; really, there was a reason why despite spending most of his time either researching the supernatural or running either after or from the latest disaster to hit their quaint little town, and hardly getting any time to eat and sleep, much less study, he was still the second best student in their year. Only surpassed by the one and only Lydia Martin. But then again she was a genius herself, so he wouldn't begrudge her her position.

Stiles noticed things, all the time. He might not think much about everything as it was happening, especially when he was busy with something else, but he noticed and a part of his mind cataloged things and saved them for future reference. He always noticed things that could be connected to the pack, no matter how simple or innocuous they might seem. He'd always known there was something… off, about Miss Blake, even when seeing Derek kissing her had punched a hole somewhere inside him, a part of him had insisted there was something off about it, about her; and it wasn't jealousy speaking! It really wasn't. Because Stiles was the kind of person who, when he loved, he loved absolutely, with no restraint, no hesitation and, most importantly, no expectations. It was how he managed to be in love with Lydia Martin for close to a decade despite the fact that she didn't even know his name. It was how he could stand before a certain prickly sourwolf, defy him when he thought it necessary and throw himself into countless dangers to keep him alive, even as he reminded Stiles there was no trust between them…

So he always knew there was something off about Miss Blake, and it wasn't like how he insisted Mr. Harris must be a monster of some kind because of the way he was always harassing Stiles, even though deep down he knew that wasn't actually the case. No, with Miss Blake Stiles's suspicions had always been completely serious; and not something he focused much on, not really, because they already had enough of a mess to deal with, what with the freaking Alpha Pack, who'd already killed Erika and later on Boyd, who were threatening everyone; and then there were the sacrifices, and it had taken forever for Stiles to make everyone understand that there was someone else doing the killing besides the Alphas. Not that he didn't understand, of course he did; it would be much easier to believe they only had one enemy at a time; but that wouldn't help, not when they were two (or six, five now? Considering the number of alphas) they needed to actually deal with.

Stiles had been toying with the idea of calling in some help for a while. He'd held back in the past, when the whole mess with the kanima and the Argents was taking place, and they all knew how that turned out. Well no, not everyone, because no one knew what had happened to Stiles exactly, in between the game and Lydia seeking him at his home. At first he hid it because he so did not want to give the old-bastard the satisfaction, to let himself become that kind of messenger. Except, he had been expecting he'd need a hell of a lot of luck to pull off that kind of lie, that the wolves would be all over him, smelling his blood, his pain, that Scott would… but no. Not Scott, not any of them. Well, Peter. Peter noticed something, but Stiles told him to focus on Derek, that Derek needed him more and, surprise surprise, Peter went.

The next time he thought about calling for help was when the Alpha Pack arrived, but he knew the others wouldn't like it. That Derek wouldn't like it. Would see Stiles calling in outside help like him saying that Derek couldn't handle it. Also, the Alphas were supposedly there only to test Derek… so Stiles held back again. And that had ended with both Erika and Boyd dead… and Stiles had no idea what the situation with Issac was anymore.

Earlier that day, that was the third moment. A part of Stiles's mind was still in a sort of high over Derek believing them, believing him, about Miss Blake being the Darach (and the Alpha had believed them, even before Scott did his nifty little trick with the mistletoe, Stiles knew that, had felt it in his bones). When Jennifer went and gloated about Cora's state, about the girl's life being in her hands… that was the straw that broke the camel's back, the drop that made the cup run over, the spark that ignited the fire (and he might be going a bit overboard in his metaphors). Stiles couldn't allow that, he couldn't allow someone, anyone, but especially not someone like Jennifer Blake, to have Cora's life in her hands, to have something like that over Derek's head.

Stiles had already made up his mind, the moment that was said, had sent a message to the number he wasn't supposed to use except for emergencies.

He didn't expect to get a response anytime soon; he particularly wasn't expecting his phone to actually ring with an incoming call (a call, not a message), a flute melody that he'd specifically assigned to the one number (even if he'd never gotten a call from that number, and therefore had never needed the ringtone before that night). He was still standing on the hospital's rooftop, his mind firing every which way as he tried to grasp the fact that Scott had just walked out on him, had actually gone and joined with an enemy… again! Hadn't he learned anything from the mess with Gerard-fucking-Argent?! No, he hadn't, because Stiles hadn't let him. Because Stiles cared so much for his friend, the closest thing he had to a brother, he wanted to protect Scott… and thus Scott had gone and made the same mistake again. Only this time he wasn't just betraying Derek, he was betraying them all, with the excuse that he was doing it to save his mom and Stiles's own dad… well. Stiles wasn't about to put his dad's life on the hands of someone he hadn't been able to truly trust for more than six months. He needed help, help from people he could actually trust. He trusted Derek, of course he did, but he had enough on his plate with Cora, so perhaps it was providential that Stiles's phone rang, with that very ringtone, in that very moment.

At the same time he answered his phone, holding it with his right hand, his other hand went to the silver-looking chain around his neck, restlessly pulling at it until he held the pendant on the end in his hand. It was a glass pendant, showing a wolf and a raven, the full moon as a background. So very beautiful… it was his anchor.

"Mischief!" A female voice called from the other end of the line. "Are you alright?"

"I…" For one moment Stiles was honestly going to lie, to say he was fine; then he clenched the pendant tight for a moment as he remembered: he didn't have to. "No, I'm not alright…"

"We'll be there in an hour Mischief." She murmured in a soothing voice. "Hang on."

He vaguely heard something in the background for an instant before the call cut off.

Stiles let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding until then, trying his best to release the tension along with it. Then he decided to be proactive. Help was coming, it would arrive soon, but in the meantime there were other things he could do… like make sure Derek did not end up in trouble with the police, again.

There was a moment, as he kept screaming at Derek to wake up, slapping his cheeks, getting no response, when Stiles actually feared Jennifer might have killed him… or worse. Because yeah, Stiles might barely be eighteen, but he knew there were things worse than death. Thankfully the sourwolf chose to wake up when the human was a heartbeat away from hysteria (and from punching him).

Derek awake, Stiles hurried to give him the cliff-notes version of what had just happened before telling him to leave, that he'd make sure the police didn't go after him.

"What about Cora?" Derek asked/demanded, right as Stiles helped him onto his feet.

"We got her out, Peter and Issac have her." Stiles informed him, doing his best to be reassuring.

"But without Jennifer we have no way to heal her." Derek practically snarled.

"Derek…" Stiles almost winced even as he said the words, but he knew they needed to be said. "I don't think she was ever going to."

It was awful, because they'd had Jennifer, they could have stopped the sacrifices, could have ensured their parents' survival right then and there, and they hadn't, because she was supposed to help Cora. Only Stiles had never truly believed she'd do that. He hadn't opposed Derek's choice because no way was he going to be the one to take hope from him, no way was he going to be responsible for Derek losing any more of his family. The thing with Peter had been bad enough, and the only reason Stiles had even done it was because he was convinced there was no other way… In any case, not believing Jennifer would keep her word didn't mean he was just going to give up on Cora, hence calling in some back-up… which he had to tell Derek about.

"I need to find Cora and Peter." The Alpha decided then.

"Yes, you do." Stiles nodded, then remembered he hadn't yet told him anything and took hold of Derek's arm to stop him.

"Stiles…" The werewolf growled quietly.

"Just a moment." Stiles let go of him right away. "Just… don't give up, okay? We'll get Cora help I… I called some friends, people I know. Who might be able to help her."

"What kind of people?" Derek's eyes narrowed, the edges going red as the alpha in him surfaced at the mention of strangers in his territory.

Stiles never got the chance to explain, because right then they could both hear loud voices and rushed footsteps, the police had arrived.

"Go!" Stiles whisper-shouted. "Go now! I'll find you."

xXx

Stiles didn't stop mentally cursing for even a minute as he got questioned, first by hospital security, then by one of his father's deputies, and finally by Agent McCall (and what the hell was Scott's dick of a father doing in Beacon Hills, precisely then, anyway?!). Afterwards, because he still had some time before his friends were due to arrive (and because he couldn't stand doing nothing) he drove to the Argents' to let them know what Agent McCall had revealed to him about the name painted on the outside of the elevator's doors.

Things seemed good at first. They all got talking together, Mr. Argent asked for his help finding the right telluric current so they might track Jennifer, find his dad and Ms. McCall before they got sacrificed. Even Issac joined them! And then when he tried to join them, they refused him, on grounds that he was not only human but had no hunter skills, no special abilities; he was, for all intents and purposes, useless.

Stiles's hands clenched into fist for all of a moment, he closed his eyes tight, hiding the spark in them. A part of him really wanted to show them just how 'useless' he was… but the bigger part of him knew it was pointless. Truth was, aside from the fact that he needed to do something to save his dad, he was just fine not going with them. He didn't trust any of them. Not the Argents, not after the way each of them had tried to kill one or more of his friends at least once; and not Issac, who had never liked Stiles, never agreed with him being pack… In fact, he was quite sure that aside from Derek, and perhaps Peter (possibly Cora), no one had ever agreed with him being pack (Scott was another matter entirely, and with him taking their enemy's side, again, Stiles was in no hurry to call him 'pack').

For a moment Stiles actually considered going to the school, finding Lydia. Jennifer had tried to kill her, and the way she'd been able to find the bodies without looking for them; maybe they could find some way to use that to track down Jennifer… He changed his mind a moment later. He couldn't deal with Lydia in that moment. He'd once crushed so hard on the girl… when he believed he was the only one who could see the real her, the amazing, brilliant woman that hid behind the facade of the shallow socialité. Except that, while Lydia was definitely brilliant, she was also shallow. Stiles had done his best to be there for her when Jackson left, had comforted her, stayed by her side, did everything she asked; and the moment another handsome jock turned his attentions on her she dropped Stiles and jumped onto bed with the new guy. Never mind that said guy ended up being Aiden, an alpha werewolf, and one of those trying to kill them all!

So in the end Stiles decided that no, he couldn't deal with Lydia in that moment. Couldn't deal with school either. And as suspicious as he knew it probably would look when he didn't show up for school; considering that his dad was already missing, and he was quite sure Allison, Issac and Scott wouldn't be showing up either; he still chose not to go.

Stiles's whole body was tense, so tense, as he stood beside his jeep, just outside the Argents' place; where he'd been standing for a while, trying to make up his mind, when he felt it. He exhaled, the tension draining from his body along with his breath. He didn't even flinch when a pair of thin, delicate looking arms wound themselves around his waist; because he knew exactly who those arms belonged too.

"Hey guys…" He breathed out, embracing the newcomer back, even as his eyes went to the other newcomers.

He was no longer alone, not with four people right there with him: The person holding him was petite, with hazel eyes and short auburn hair in a bit of a bobcut (it'd been longer the last time he'd seen her), in a loose white top, dark jeans, low black boots and a black leather jacket. The other three were to a side, in variations of the same attire; except for how the taller, black-haired green-eyed, male had a zipped up leather jacket in a very dark shade of blue; while the blue-eyed, blonde-haired woman (who was both older and taller than the auburn haired girl still embracing him) was wearing a black cropped top and pale-blue skinny jeans along with her own boots and leather jacket. The final member of the group was almost four inches shorter than the other male and about eight or nine taller than the blonde (who was three or so inches taller than the auburn haired girl), with dark-brown hair, dark-hazel eyes and dressed in black from head to toe. Shocking as it might have been for all who knew him in Beacon Hills, Stiles knew them all.

He'd met the smaller girl first; in fact, for a while she was the only one he knew. The two of them had met in New York, he'd been eleven-going-on-twelve, she, newly turned fourteen. They'd met in a hospital, on the waiting room to the medical practice of the best Oncologist in the world. The patients happened to be Stiles' own mom: Claudia Stilisnki, and the girl: Silbhé Salani. In the end there was nothing the doctor could do for either of them, and even years later Stiles still had trouble understanding how his mom and Silbhé could be so accepting of it all, of the fact that they were going to die… in any case, that's how they'd met, and why she called him Mischief. It was what his mom used to call him (she asked his permission before doing it the very first time they met after her death).

In the end Silbhé didn't die, though that had ended being a much more complicated matter, which he only learned about because of the circumstances of their second meeting.

Things were awful after the passing of his mother. It was almost like he hadn't lost one parent but two, seeing how his dad was never really there. He was always either at work, getting drunk, or sleeping off the alcohol. Stiles quickly learned to make breakfast for himself, to get the coffee-pot on so his dad could have his coffee. Melissa helped him with the groceries, as he was too young to handle that, and the days she couldn't take him to school he'd walk himself there and back.

It was almost a year before Melissa apparently decided that enough was enough. He'd no idea what had happened that day exactly, but afterwards his dad stopped drinking almost completely, and he'd begun consistently having at least breakfast with Stiles, dinner too when he could manage it, taking him to school. He became his dad again, though Stiles never forgot that year. He'd already grown used to cooking, to taking care of things around the house. He knew he was a bit paranoid, wanting to control so much, but he was just so afraid of losing his father again, and to something a lot more permanent than grief…

Stiles had always been interested in mythology, it was one of the few things that truly held his interest. Scott had been the one to show him the announcement about a week long workshop. With conferences, and panels and all sorts of activities, with the leading experts in mythology around the world. The main speaker being Dr. Elliot Randolph. Though there was also a special mention about an undergrad student who would be presenting her thesis: "Gods Among Us". Stiles had read an article with a summarized version of that thesis and been fascinated by it, the idea that many (if not all) gods and various mythical beings might exist or have existed at some point, only they had never been divinities or monsters, just people with gifts.

Stiles had wanted to go, of course he did, it was late in the summer, a couple of weeks before school started again; but he couldn't even think about leaving his dad. Besides, he'd just turned fifteen back then! And then his dad told him he was taking some vacation time and they were going to Chicago for a week, to the workshop (he'd eventually learned that it was Melissa who showed him the very same add Scott had shown Stiles, and even went as far as to explaining to the Sheriff, in detail, how much Stiles liked such things, and why he'd never say it).

Of all the things he might or might not have expected from that week, learning that the undergrad student behind that article and thesis was Silbhé Salani was a shock he'd been sure at the time could never be topped. That is, until the last day of the workshop, Silbhé (who was a genius, already doing grad studies at seventeen!) had managed to convince her Aunt Kathryn and his dad to have dinner just the two of them so the two of them could do the touristy thing. It was once they left the hotel that he met Luka, Silbhé's best friend.

They had an awesome afternoon, visiting all the best places. Silbhé had researched the city to hell and back and thus knew exactly where to go, Luka had a great sense of humor, and didn't mind Stiles's quirks, neither of them did. Stiles was surprised how neither of them seemed to mind him being a third wheel (there was totally something between them, even if neither of them said it, Stiles could tell), or the fact that he was younger than both of them. And then things got freaky…

The sky was dark but the streetlamps were pretty good, and as they would all be returning to their respective homes the next day after lunch (and had nothing programmed for the morning) none of them were in any hurry to return to the hotel. A part of Stiles did wonder how insane it was that the adults in their lives were letting two minors out and about on their own (because he was quite sure that no one had known Luka would be there), but as he was having a lot of fun, he didn't mind it at all. Silbhé and Luka were awesome and he was really hoping they'd be able to stay in touch even after they had to leave Chicago…

One moment they'd been laughing, Stiles pushing for them to find the fried goodies he could smell somewhere nearby, and then suddenly Luka froze in place. Stiles himself tripped almost at the same time and for no apparent reason.

A moment later there was a figure in a red hooded cloak standing in front of them, and Stiles could have sworn there was a metallic glint beneath the folds of the cloth. Funnily enough, the first through that crossed his mind was 'Red Riding Hood', he barely managed to hold back from saying it out-loud.

"Lady Ylva?" He heard Luka asked, and a part of Stiles began wondering if he'd slipped into the Twilight dimension without noticing.

In the next ten minutes a man all in black arrived, Luka called him Fenrir. They warned him that someone was coming. Silbhé was extremely worried (and everyone was calling her Nightingale, instead of Silbhé), they all began talking in a mix of languages Stiles had never heard (and he knew English, Spanish, Polish and a little French!).

"Silbhé, is everything alright?" Stiles finally blurted out.

Judging by the wide eyes everyone directed his way, they'd completely forgotten he was there.

"Who is he?" Ylva demanded, and then Stiles really was sure there was some kind of knife in her hand, a long, thin blade.

"Mischief, he's a friend." Silbhé announced.

"Can he be trusted?" Ylva pressed.

"I think we're beyond any of that, my love." Fenrir murmured in a husky tone.

Stiles really wanted to ask what was going on exactly, but suddenly he felt it again, like a shift in the air, followed by something else, like heavy, metallic, footsteps.

"They're here." Fenrir and Luka said at the same time.

"We cannot stay here." Silbhé stated, taking Stiles's hand even as she spun around. "Run!"

They ran. Stiles hadn't the slightest idea why they were running exactly but they did. It was Ylva's idea for them to split. They were in a place called the Gold Star Families Park. The plan was to get to Northerly Island, and hope there wouldn't be too many people there.

Silbhé was the one that stayed with him, while the others went each in a different direction, hoping to keep their pursuers away from the two younger members of the group.

"What's going on?" He asked very quietly as they took a moment to rest in the Huntington Bank Pavilion. "Silbhé…"

"I'm sorry Mischief…" She whispered, so very, very softly.

"Don't be sorry." He told her, kindly but firmly. "Be honest with me."

"Do you believe in magic?" She asked in return.

He didn't, not really. Not in magic, or in any higher power. How could he? It's not like anything or anyone had helped him when his mom fell sick. Then again, Silbhé had been sick too, the doctors had given up on her, and she survived…

That was the day he found out that the world, the universe, was much bigger than he ever knew, and that there were more beings, good and bad, than he ever believed possible. Gods and monsters, they were all real… and Silbhé? She was Nightingale, the best-friend of Loki, Aesir Prince and God of Mischief and Lies (and Magic). She was the mortal friend of a god, and because of that, they were after her. Because mortals weren't supposed to know the truth. Ylva and Fenrir (a Valkyrie and an actual werewolf!) had fled Asgard ahead of the Einherjer to find Loki and Nightingale and warn them that they'd been found. They never expected just how fast the soldiers would be sent after them.

When things went wrong Stiles wasn't even surprised. They had been at some kind of Airport Museum or something. The place was closed to the public already, but it was easy enough for the two of them to slip inside to hide. It had seemed like the right place to lay low while waiting for the others to find. The problem was that the soldiers found them first.

Stiles wasn't sure what happened exactly. Did they see them? Or tracked their aura or something like that? He didn't even know what was possible anymore. They'd been running as fast as they could, until Silbhé unexpectedly fell, twisting her ankle. She didn't break it or anything, but still had trouble running on it. So Stiles pulled one of her arms over his shoulders and began practically pulling her along. It was his idea to hide in the old airport. It had seemed like a good plan, the place already closed to the public, close enough to where the others would be but still somewhat secure. Less so than they had hoped. The sound of glass, a lot of glass breaking, from the nearby terminal, revealed just how close their pursuers were.

They both jumped onto her feet instantly, only for Silbhé to half drop onto one knee almost right away. While sitting had been a relief, it had also allowed her ankle to cool down and swell up; she could no longer stand on it at all.

"Run..." She hissed at Stiles when it became obvious she'd be going nowhere. "You have to run Mischief. Now."

"What…?" He couldn't believe she was saying that. "No!"

"You need to escape, now." She insisted. "They don't know about you yet, you can still get away. You run back to the hotel. Go home tomorrow, you will be safe."

"I'm not leaving you here." He refused.

"Mischief…"

"I'm not leaving. No way." He inhaled sharply. "They won't find us."

She certainly wasn't expecting that. There was a sudden certainty in his voice, even he didn't fully understand it. He remembered something his mom has said once, about the power of faith. He'd stopped believing in such things when his mom first got sick and then died, no amount of faith had saved her. But… he'd just found out magic was real, that so much he'd have believed to be impossible was real so… why not?

The following five minutes were absolutely nerve-wracking. Especially when the Einherjer went right by their side, less than three feet from them. Neither of them spoke, Stiles just holding onto Silbhé tightly, repeating the same mantra inside his mind over and over: 'They cannot see us, they will not see us, we are safe.'. They still didn't move from their spot until Loki found them.

That was the night he discovered that other worlds and races existed, that magic was real and, most shocking: that he had magic himself. Deaton had called him a Spark, back when telling him about mountain ash, Stiles wondered if he'd even known what he was talking about…

When the others found them Loki knew Stiles had done magic, even if no one had the slightest idea how exactly. Even then, there was no time to investigate. The group went straight back to the hotel, where they pretended for Stiles's father's sake that everything was just fine. Stiles knew they would be gone before the morning.

It was until Christmas that he heard from them again. When he and his dad sat to open the gifts, there was one extra for Stiles. He pretended it had come in the mail, that he'd just forgotten about it, even though he hadn't the slightest idea where it came from, or who. Not until he opened it to find a glass pendant hanging from a chain that looked like silver. The pendant itself had inside a design of a black raven. There was also a card explaining that ravens were birds of mischief, audacity and magic; and that the necklace had every protective spell Loki and Nightingale could think of that wasn't dependent on a blood connection, it would keep him safe.

Stiles was quite sure the pendant was the only reason he survived the past year.

"Oh Mischief…" Silbhé… no, Nightingale, she'd been Nightingale ever since leaving that night, embraced him with all the strength in her delicate-looking arms (which was actually more than most would expect or even believe possible).

The best thing about Nightingale was perhaps that, with her being an empath… he didn't need to try and find the right words to express himself, she knew, she could feel everything he was feeling. And even if she didn't yet know the reasons, she still did her best to help him.

After that Christmas, Stiles had gotten a letter. Not in the mail, no, he found it on his desk one morning. It came from Nightingale, and on it she explained her story to him, all the things she'd have never been able to explain that night. She also told him that, just like he imagined, she, Loki, Fenrir and Ylva had ran that night; and they were still running, she expected they'd be running for a long time. Still, if he ever needed her, needed them, all he needed to do was call, and they'd answer. Which was exactly what had happened that day.

The embrace lasted what seemed like forever, and no time at all. Eventually Stiles relaxed enough to let go of the pendant (he hadn't even been aware that he'd been holding it in a fist). Ylva was the first to see it, to understand…

"Oh Raven…" She whispered.

Stiles just closed his eyes, knowing exactly what she was seeing.

While Nightingale called him Mischief, she was the only one allowed to do that. Insane as it might seem considering how short a time they'd truly known each other, Stiles saw Nightingale as family, an older sister, so it felt right to have her call him Mischief. The rest called him Raven. Apparently, while they'd known exactly which animal the pendant would show, they hadn't been responsible for it; that had been all Stiles. The pendant was magical in more ways than one, the glass having been enchanted from its very creation to channel his inner-self and reveal his spirit animal. What was at his very core… that had always been a Raven (mischief, audacity and magic). And thus the others called him that; much like they all called Silbhé, Nightingale.

Things had changed, that was what Ylva noticed. It wasn't that the raven was gone; more like, the raven wasn't alone anymore. A wolf had joined it, at least ten months prior. Stiles didn't actually know when it happened, exactly. So much had been going on at the time; he knew the day he noticed it though, the night he helped kill Peter and Derek became the Alpha. He'd been holding onto the pendant through almost the whole day, using it to center himself; then that night, as he laid on his bed trying to get his mind around everything that had happened, he first noticed that it had changed. He didn't tell Loki and Nightingale what happened, didn't ask why, it wasn't necessary; deep inside, he just knew.

"It'd seem that a lot more has happened than we expected, little brother." Loki murmured, seriousness underlying his mischievousness.

"You have no idea." Stiles exhaled.

And out came the whole story. From a body cut in half, found in the woods, Scott being bitten, Derek Hale… all the way to the Alpha Pack, Cora and, once again, Derek. All of them, his extended family, kept from interrupting, though not from reacting through it all. Everything from scoffs (mainly at Scott's constant abandonment of him), growls (at Peter, at Gerard, at Kate… all of the Argents really). They were also very supportive of him, not just his choice to be a part of that world, despite still insisting on being human; but also his connection to the Hales, especially Derek. Stiles knew that his father, awesome as he might be, and regardless of how well he might have taken the revelation that creatures like werewolves existed, he still would never understand the connection between Stiles and Derek. With Nightingale and the others he didn't even need to try and explain, they understood and accepted it.

"You want us to help Cora Hale." Nightingale said, straight out, once the story was told.

Stiles just nodded. He knew he wasn't being questioned, they understood. They always had and always would. And it was in that moment that Stiles understood why, regardless of how much he might care for Scott, he never imagined being in a pack with him; and while a part of him had felt it right with Derek, he still couldn't help but believe something was missing. It was them; Loki, Nightingale, Fenrir and Ylva. He'd no idea how it was even supposed to be possible, but he just knew they were all meant to be together, to be family, to be pack…

"Lets go." Loki decided.

xXx

They rode on Stiles's jeep. Loki at the front with him, as he was the biggest, Nightingale in the middle on the back-seat. While the four-some had obviously used magic to get from wherever they'd been to Beacon Hills in just one hour, Stiles wasn't sure how good an idea it might be, not just because of the darach (the way she drew power from the telluric currents and poisoned the ley lines, he wasn't sure how that might affect the shadow paths Loki and Nightingale used to travel long distances); there was also the fact that he wasn't sure how good an idea it would be to just drop on the Hales, especially Derek, like that. Which was also why, once they made it to the loft, he knocked, instead of just pushing the door open as he usually did.

It was Peter who slid the metal door open; and then just stood there, staring at Stiles, and the four-some behind him. Stiles could particularly feel his reaction to Fenrir, the way the were felt and fought the need to step back. It wasn't surprising; but judging by Nightingale's tension, they really didn't have the time to explain things.

"Hey Peter." Stiles nodded at him.

"Stiles and… friends of Stiles I don't know." Peter replied in a deadpan.

"Yeah… these are Nightingale, Loki, Fenrir and Ylva." Stiles said their names calmly, like there was nothing special about them. "I told Derek I'd called in some friends to help."

"And how could your friends possibly help..." Peter pressed, tense.

He was probably sensing that everyone had power, even Stiles. And they so didn't have the time!

"Let them in Peter." Derek's voice called from inside.

"Nephew…" The older Hale began in a warning tone.

"I trust Stiles." Derek interrupted.

And that, just that, was enough to break the tension, like it had never been there. It wasn't like Peter suddenly trusted them, him, but he'd accepted Derek as not only his family but his Alpha, and was willing to believe that if Derek trusted Stiles, there must be a reason (and there was, all the times Stiles had saved the sourwolf!).

"Derek…" Stiles called going in. "I brought my friends. They can help Cora…"

As if that were some kind of cue Nightingale immediately moved ahead, standing by the bed Cora was laid on, on the opposite side from Derek, observing her carefully.

"What happened to her?" She asked the wolf softly. "Do you know?"

"She was poisoned by a darach, mistletoe." Derek informed her. "Can you really help her?"

For all answer Nightingale slipped a dainty hand inside the right inner pocket of her black leather jacket, pulling out a crystal phial. She sat beside the unconscious, restless Cora carefully, waiting for Derek to raise her, just enough to be sure the liquid inside the phial couldn't choke her. Then, when she was sure they were as ready as they could be, Nightingale uncorked the phial and tipped it against the girl's lips, letting the contents pour into her mouth slowly.

No one could miss the huge significance of everything going on. Not just Nightingale's actions, but Derek's. The fact that the Alpha wasn't asking questions about who she was, how she knew Stiles, wasn't making demands about the contents of the phial or what it would do exactly. Stiles was beyond speechless as he realized just how much Derek trusted him, not just with his own life, but with the life of his little sister, one of the two last members of his family. It made the boy feel so honored, humbled and terrified, all at the same time. But he pushed that aside, instead clasping his hands together and, focusing on his spark, he prayed for the elixir to work. It had to work, Cora had to be healed, Derek didn't deserve to lose yet another member of his family, it wasn't fair…

Cora drew in a sharp, gasping breath, a moment before Nightingale took her from Derek's arms and with strength most never got to see, pulled her across her lap and so her head would be over the edge of the bed, just in time for Cora's cough to turn into puking as she expelled what looked like a lot of black gunk. Stiles imagined it was the poison, and with the elixir acting to heal her it had to go somewhere.

It took less than fifteen seconds. Soon Cora was straightening up, taking in deep, sharp breaths. It took her a little longer to realize that she was, in fact, breathing with no problem. Then she turned around in Nightingale's arms, eyes searching for her brother, and seemingly without actually noticing whose arms she was in, in the first place. Stiles could have laughed as the girl threw herself into Derek's arms, embracing him tightly.

"Thank you…" Derek mumbled under his breath, eyes first on Nightingale, then on Stiles, without letting go of Cora.

Nightingale just tipped her head in acknowledgment, while Stiles grinned brightly. It had worked! Cora was safe, Derek still had his sister… now all they needed to do was get the 'guardians' back… and deal with their enemies.

xXx

"Let me see if I get this correctly." Peter spoke up. "She," his hand pointed at Nightingale. "was born human, though she clearly isn't. Or at least not just human. She met an actual god, the god of freaking mischief of all things! At eleven, they became friends, he saved her life when she was dying of cancer. Which is how the two of you met, in New York, visiting a doctor that you hoped might help her, and your mom." His eyes were once again on Stiles. "Then you met again in Chicago, years later, where you saved her from some freaky soldiers from another world before they fled and you came back to Beacon Hills."

"Essentially." Stiles drawled.

Peter had just summarized a story that had taken them nearly a whole hour to tell, even without going into too much detail where the actual gods and the 9 Realms were concerned, in less than two minutes. It was actually a bit… anti-climactic.

"What do you mean Nightingale's not human?" Stiles blurted out suddenly, as his mind caught up with that part.

"She doesn't smell human." Peter stated as if it should be obvious.

"I am human." Nightingale stated serenely. "Though we do believe that my bond with Loki might be changing me. In the last year I've become able to use his magic."

"You don't smell human either." Cora blurted out suddenly, staring at Stiles. "Which is totally freaky because you smelled just fine yesterday. What happened?"

"Oh… I… let go?" Stiles couldn't help but make it sound like a question.

"Let go?" None of the Hales understood what that was supposed to mean.

"I have magic." Stiles elaborated. "I think I've always had it, though as long as I didn't call on it, it remained dormant. I used it to keep Nightingale and I invisible to the Einherjer, and then not for the longest time. Even when Scott was bitten. I might've tapped into it a little bit, considering the insane amount of luck we all kept having; and the way things ended up with Grandpa Argent that night." He chuckled darkly, mostly to himself. "Deaton called me a Spark once, when he was teaching me how to use the mountain ash. What I did at the Jungle that night? I don't know if he was afraid to scare me if he told me the truth about the power inside me, if he really couldn't, maybe he still cannot see it, maybe he just really enjoys being way too cryptic and entirely unhelpful or…"

"Or he sought to muffle your own potential by telling you you're less than you actually are." Loki finished for him, a hint of steel in his eyes.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Derek demanded, hackles rising at even the hint of anything against one of his pack (and whatever stupid decisions Scott might make, Derek would continue seeing Stiles as pack until he chose differently).

"I've never trusted Deaton." Stiles's words sounded like a non-sequitur, but they all listened anyway. "I mean, he was supposed to be your family's Emissary, right? And from what I've researched, emissaries are important, they keep a pack connected to humanity, they're also messengers, ambassadors, both where it comes to humans, and with others in the supernatural world. Like hunters. So how the hell did he not know about Kate Argent? About what she was planning? I mean, with all the people she either bribed, coerced or whatever into helping her, how the hell did he not know the kind of danger you were all in?" He shook his head. "And putting that aside for a moment. Why didn't he help you once it was all over? I know you might not have known about him… my research shows that sometimes emissaries are only known to the alpha and one or two other members of the pack. So you might not have known who he was, but he certainly knew you. So why didn't he offer you help? Why didn't he offer Laura help? All those years ago, and when you came back? That's not how an emissary is supposed to be."

"You have a theory." Peter wasn't asking.

"Deaton told me once he was a druid, that it means 'wise oak', like darach means 'dark oak'." Stiles shook his head, that wasn't the important part. "He said druids are supposed to keep balance above everything. I remember, after I realized what he had been, to your mom, I asked him how he made the choice. I mean, how can anyone be a keeper of balance, and a helper to a pack of wolves at the same time? It must be hell to keep your priorities straight, right?"

He didn't need to say anything more, suddenly all three Hales were growling low in their throats. It truly had never occurred to them, all that Stiles had said, it had never crossed their minds and yet… all of a sudden Peter was all for ripping Deaton a new one.

"Stop." Fenrir didn't raise his voice, he didn't need to, the power behind it was enough to make them all freeze where they stood. "As interesting as Raven's theories might be, and as much as you might want to go find answers, I believe we have other priorities right now."

"The Sheriff…" Cora murmured, turning towards Stiles. "Wait, did you call him Raven?"

"It's what most of us call him, except Nightingale." Loki shrugged. "It's his soul-animal. Raven, a bird of mischief, audacity and magic…"

"One who hunts with wolves." Peter added, brow arched. "Interesting."

Stiles had to fight not to reach for his pendant right then, the last thing he needed was someone questioning what it was about.

"What are you?" Derek asked right then, looking straight at Fenrir. "You feel…"

He couldn't even find the right words for it, but the sub-vocal whine that came from his throat, a sound that was all-wolf… that told its own story.

"I am in many ways, like you, a shapeshifter, a werewolf." Fenrir answered. "Same as an alpha except… except for the fact that one cannot be Alpha, Beta or Omega when you're the very last of your species."

"What?!" None of the Hales were expecting that.

"I am the last of my people." Fenrir explained. "I know that because I can sense it, at my very core. I wouldn't say I'm alone, how can I be when I have the family I do? But there's no one left of my own race. I came to be in Asgard, somehow, when I was very young. I'm not even clear on how that happened exactly. Loki found me when I was, for all intents and purposes, a baby, a cub, all wolf and no man back then. He helped me, looked after me, helped me find myself again. Some things I did right, others not so much. The first time I tried to court a lady things went so wrong I ended up trapped in the deepest corner of the darkest forest in Asgard." For a moment it looked like he wanted to say something in particular, but in the end he moved on. "Ylva got me out when she heard that Odin was sending Einherjer after Loki and his Nightingale and we went looking for them. Bottom-line, I'm almost like you, only from another planet. You can feel my wolf, sense the power in me, and your own wolf responds to it; it also knows I have no intent to exert any sort of dominance over you, or your pack, so you all have nothing to worry about."

"That doesn't worry me." Derek blurted out. "That's not… my wolf… you feel…"

"Safe." Cora interjected. "You feel safe."

"You are safe with me." Fenrir nodded. "I… all of us, we'll do our best to help you. And for that we need to go and take care of your trouble now."

Yes, they did.

It was curious how just two hours earlier Derek had been one step from surrendering, almost resigned to his fate (which he'd no doubt would have consisted of pain, grief, and sooner or later a horrible death, because no way was he going to join the Alpha Pack, ever); his only hope being to find some way to make sure his sister would be safe beforehand. Stiles's friends had not only saved his sister, with them there he had hope for the first time since first seeing that symbol clawed on his burned house's door, that things might just go well for them. And it was all thanks to Stiles. Stiles…

"Der… Derek?!"

Derek blinked, only then realizing that he'd spaced out completely, while staring at said amber-eyed magic-wielding human… they'd never actually said what Stiles was supposed to be, if Spark wasn't the right term for him. In any case, the Alpha almost blushed when realizing he'd been staring, and that everyone was looking at him right then.

"Lets go." Was all he said.

He really did not need someone asking why he'd been staring exactly. Knowing Cora she would be doing exactly that sooner or later, and Peter was liable to do a lot worse than ask; Derek could only hope it wouldn't be in front of Stiles and his friends (his family), the last thing he needed was for his m… friend, to feel horrified or something and decide that Derek wasn't worth it anymore (maybe never had been).

"How are we going to find the Sheriff?" Thankfully Cora decided to focus on the matter at hand.

"If he cannot be tracked by smell, which I imagine he cannot, otherwise you would have found him already." Ylva stated evenly. "Loki and Nightingale can track him down magically through his familial connection to Raven."

"Then lets go." Peter nodded, standing up. "If we manage to deal with all this before the lunar eclipse tomorrow we just might live to tell this tale."

xXx

Stiles, Cora and Derek were the ones to slip into the cellar under the Nemeton's roots to free the 'guardians'; with Stiles grasping Derek's hand briefly right before they went in.

"Stiles!" Sheriff Noah Stilinski cried out, being the first to see them.

"Stiles?!" Mrs. McCall called, not expecting that. "You're here…? How are you here?" Then she noticed his company. "Where is Scott?"

"Probably still with the alphas." Stiles said, in a way-too-blasé tone as he worked on cutting the roped securing his dad with a knife Nightingale had handed him before going in.

"What?!" Melissa hardly even reacted when Derek used his claws to cut her own ropes. "Why? Why would he do that?"

"Your guess is as good as mine Ms. M." Stiles tried his best to smile at her.

"It's not the first time the little brat switches sides when the going gets tough." Peter announced from the entrance to the cellar.

"Peter, aren't you supposed to be standing guard?" Derek rolled his eyes, not knowing why he even bothered.

"Your friends are doing a good enough job at that." Peter shrugged.

Cora finished cutting through the ropes securing Chris Argent right then. She thought it stupid that the darach hadn't soaked them in wolfsbane or something, it made their job almost too easy. All the same, perhaps they were bound for some luck… or, or maybe it was Stiles's work. She hadn't considered until then but, maybe.

"What about Allison?" The hunter asked then.

"No idea." Stiles shrugged carelessly. "Haven't seen her or Issac since you all left me outside your place."

"Stiles…" Chris began, obviously noticing the boy hadn't liked that.

"Look, I don't care anyway." Stiles cut him off. "You believed me to be useless, and perhaps even had good reason for that. Too long I've allowed others to take the lead. Content to just follow, to be the research-guru, the token human. Letting them believe I was all too fragile. Then my dad got kidnapped…"

"What are you saying…?" He began.

He never got the chance to finish the question, as right then they all heard it, like a bird-call. The parents thought nothing of it, but it was enough to make Stiles snap to attention, the three Hales following suit.

"That was Nightingale." Stiles informed them. "Someone's coming."

Another bird-like trill; which Peter suddenly recognized as coming from some kind of flute.

"The darach is coming." Stiles translated the signal.

"We need to run." Melissa stated, frightened.

"No time." Peter denied.

"And I'm not risking her coming after you all again, or someone else, later on." Stiles added for good measure. "No, we're finishing this, and we're doing it now."

He practically stalked out of the cellar, Peter stepping aside to let him pass. They might only have known about the boy's magic for a couple of hours, but in that moment they could all feel it. The spark, it smelled almost like the air just before a lightning storm began… It wasn't that they were afraid. The wolves, they could all sense that, as big and wild as the power had the potential of being, it would never be used against them.

Outside the cellar they found the others waiting. One couple on each side, watching attentively yet none of them interfering as Stiles went to block the darach's path…

"Well, well, well, this is a surprise." The darach, Jennifer Blake, stated.

She would never admit her shock at seeing not just Stiles, but the Hales, the humans who were supposed to become her last sacrifices, all standing there. No one was supposed to be able to find the Nemeton! How then had they?

Stiles could tell that Jennifer really didn't seem to know what to do. He decided he'd rather not give her the chance to make a plan. He wasn't the kind for long, drawn-out battles, that had never been his style. And while he certainly knew self-defense, and his way around guns (his dad was the sheriff, of course he knew!); he didn't actually have a gun on him at the moment and he knew better than to get that close to someone with the kind of dark power Jennifer possessed. Then again, it's not like those were his only options, not anymore. So instead he held onto his glass pendant with one hand, while extending the other downwards, palm open. It wasn't necessary exactly, just a focus. The kind of magic he possessed… it wasn't about words, or herbs, or stones, or anything like that. It was about intent, the strength of his will, of his faith… in simple terms, all he needed to do was believe… and so he did.

He believed that the darach's power couldn't endure. That it wasn't meant to. He sent his power, his will, straight into the ground, the earth, the roots of the Nemeton, to which she had sacrificed all those innocents; to which she'd intended to sacrifice their parents! The surprise came when he sensed the Nemeton answering, probing at him. There was no actual question, there couldn't have been, it's not like the tree was truly sentient. But still, he got the gist of it, the Nemeton wanted to know why he wished to undo what had been achieved through the sacrifices.

*Because she's unworthy of all she was gained, because she gained it by spilling the blood of innocents, by destroying lives that weren't hers to give.* Stiles sent back.

It happened from one moment to the next: They were standing there, Jennifer called on her power to attack Stiles, somehow, and nothing happened. A moment later mist seemed to envelope them all, and from it, twelve figures emerged.

"Heather…" Stiles breathed out.

And it wasn't just his old friend. Emily, the boy from the pool, Mr. Harris, Mr. Westover, Tara… every single person Jennifer had sacrificed was there… or more like, their souls.

"What's going on?!" Jennifer demanded, voice breaking a bit in doubt.

"You seem to know a lot Jennifer… or should I call you Julia?" Stiles called evenly. "Tell me, what is the Mother's punishment for offering that which isn't yours to give? The sacrifices, you offered lives that weren't yours to give. That's why they're here now. The very people you slaughtered will judge you, and the Mother will give her punishment."

He meant, of course, Mother Earth. The funny thing was, Stiles wasn't even sure how he knew all that. He'd asked for Jennifer's power to be taken away because she wasn't worthy of it, because it wasn't right that she benefit of the pain and suffering she'd caused to others; he never expected the way things actually went.

The rest of the confrontation went rather fast. Except it wasn't truly a confrontation. Each of the souls of those sacrificed emitted their judgment, all found her guilty. The moment the last of them finished speaking the word, the earth beneath their feet shook and then Jennifer was screaming.

Everyone in the clearing could feel it, as the power was pulled from her. The dead wouldn't live again, that wasn't possible, but they'd be at peace. The moment it was all said and done the souls nodded at Stiles before vanishing into the mists. Heather taking a moment to wave at Stiles before doing the same.

Stiles didn't even realize it when he fell. He was so exhausted and not even sure why exactly.

"Stiles?!" Derek and Cora cried out at the same time.

"Beware!" Nightingale was the first to sense the shift in the air.

Jennifer had been on her knees, right where she collapsed after losing everything the sacrifices had given her: youth, beauty, strength, healing, all of it. She no longer looked like Jennifer Blake but like a disfigured, not-quite-human form. No one was really expecting her to get back on her feet and throw herself at Stiles, hands poised as if they were claws and she wanted to bury her nails in the human boy.

She never got to give more than two steps though. Before anyone else could fully react, Peter already had. They were all left just watching as the body of the once emissary dropped to the ground, throat slashed open, Peter standing behind, clawed hand still poised. Stiles was the first to look straight at him, cocking his head to a side as he spoke.

"Thank you, Peter." He nodded.

He would never forget the past, all the bad things that had happened; the things each of them had done… but maybe they could both forgive, move on, be a pack?

"My pleasure kid, truly." Peter grinned with way too many teeth.

Derek just rolled his eyes as he went and helped Stiles stand. Peter would never change, but as he'd come to realize, that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Really, as long as he never went mad and tried to kill them again, Derek could certainly live with it (and there was no reason for that to happen… Derek, as their alpha, wouldn't allow it).

"Now what?" The Sheriff asked after what, to him, felt like a very long silence.

"Now we go deal with a few alphas." Peter stated with a predatory smile.

And with Scott… no one said it out-loud, but there was no doubt that at least a few of them were thinking it. It wasn't going to be pretty…

xXx

It took a great deal of effort to get the parents to let them go alone. In the end Noah had only gone after getting his son to swear up and down that he'd be careful, call as soon as they were done and to make sure that Agent McCall and whoever might have arrived to town with him would not end up complicating things further. Chris Argent offered to go with him and use his own position and credentials as security consultant and weapon's dealer (which were actually legal and all) to help keep them all away from the distillery. Mrs. McCall went home, promising to be ready in case any of them needed medical attention (none of them had the heart to tell her no way); also, Stiles would never be able to forget the way her eyes shone with un-fallen tears as she embraced him and whispered: 'Please, don't hurt my boy…'. Because she knew, she knew that Scott had gone and done something idiotic, that the others wouldn't care to help him, and all she could hope for was that despite how bad a friend Scott had been over the past years, that Stiles would still care enough for their friendship to save him, both from the alphas and from the Hales (and his new friends).

Truth was Stiles didn't much care about Scott anymore, he hadn't for a while. For so long, pretty much as long as he could remember actually, he and Scott had been best friends. Stiles was there when Raphael McCall abandoned them, leaving young Scott fearing it was something he did; Scott was there when Claudia Stilinski died, keeping Stiles from going nuts over his father's drinking. All through elementary, junior high and half of high school they were each other's only friend… and then Scott was bitten by Peter and everything changed.

Surprisingly enough, Stiles wasn't blaming Peter. He'd come to realize (he'd never understand, but then again, he wasn't a wolf, so that was okay) that Peter had been beyond insane at the time, due to the fire, the loss of most of his pack, the abandonment of the remaining members, and whatever it was that nurse had done that had brought him out of his catatonia after all those years. It was why he'd killed Laura. And then of course, being an alpha had imprinted such a desire, a need for pack, he bit the first person he came across, which ended being Scott (and his nurse). It was probably enough of a miracle that he hadn't done the same to Stiles himself, his dad, the deputies, and whoever else that might have been there that night.

The biting hadn't been the problem though. Even when Scott didn't believe him at first, when Stiles deduced what had happened and what it all meant. Stiles was still there. He helped Scott learn control, kept him from hurting the girl he liked, or getting killed by her family. And even when Scott dumped him, pretty much forgot all about him, in favor of said girl, and all the friends he suddenly made as he became a lacrosse star and popular… Stiles didn't give up on him. He was a bit jealous of course, but he was also happy that Scott was finally getting a chance at everything he'd always wanted. Stiles just didn't want to be left behind.

Except he was. Scott left him behind. Time and again. At first Stiles refused to believe it. Refused to accept that his once best friend, his almost brother, could be like that. After the mess with Gerard he'd come to accept the truth. It wasn't even that Scott hadn't gone save him. That much Stiles could understand. With everything going on with the kanima, and Gerard… Stiles got it. It was why he had gone straight home rather than look for Scott, once Gerard let him go. He hadn't wanted to make his friend feel bad for not having been there. No, the problem that night was learning that Scott had made a plan for dealing with Gerard, and had told Stiles nothing about it. He'd trusted Deaton, the vet, the so-called druid, the 'retired' emissary; the man who seemed to be pathologically incapable of giving a straight answer to even the simplest of questions. That was what broke Stiles's faith in him.

Stiles wasn't really surprised when Scott barely even tried to hang out with him during the summer. He gave his dad the excuse that Scott was doing summer-school and picking extra shifts with Deaton to buy himself a bike or whatever… he was sure his dad had stopped believing the excuses quite fast, but he also understood that Stiles wasn't ready to say out-loud what he'd already accepted inside: that he no longer had a best friend. Could he even say they had been best friends? Because, wasn't the kind of friendship that you shared with someone you call that, something that was supposed to endure? To last through thick and thin? Weren't best friends supposed to be thus forever?

In any case, it's not like he'd been sitting on his butt doing nothing all summer. Stiles had decided that things were unlikely to stay peaceful for long, and thus he'd gone back to studying self-defense. Mostly through video tutorials online. He'd long since surpassed everything his dad's friends were willing to teach him, and he just knew he didn't have the discipline for actual martial arts classes so… Also, he'd always had a gift for self-teaching. On that same vein, while Stiles was too young to purchase a handgun himself, it was perfectly legal for him to use one, and he'd convinced his dad to take him to the range for practice every other week throughout the summer. There was even a gun that was technically his (a Glock 9mm, had belonged to his dad), though he didn't actually have a carrying permit yet, and thus only used it on the range and only pulled it out at home to clean it.

As expected, the Alphas (or the remaining ones, since Ennis was dead) were at the distillery, and Scott was with them. The group had just arrived and had just made a plan on how to handle things (Stiles and the Hales would be going in front and center, with Stiles's friends taking to the roof and slipping inside unnoticed, magic being more than enough to occlude them from even Deucalion's heightened senses).

Stiles's phone began ringing right as Peter and Cora pushed the doors into the building open, all eyes turning towards the teenager as he watched the screen of his phone, then slipped it once again into the back pocket of his jeans.

"I suppose I don't need to answer that." He said, eyes going straight for Scott.

"Stiles man, where have you been?" Scott demanded, asking as if it were just the two of them in the warehouse. "Lydia called me, as did Deaton, no one could find you…" His eyes widened as he apparently realized Stiles wasn't alone. "Why are you doing here? And with them? I thought Cora was sick!"

"Yes she was, and I'm here, with them, because this time I've made a plan of my own." Stiles answered in a completely emotionless tone.

Scott cocked his head to a side, as if trying to deduce something from Stiles's every breath and beat of his heart. It was pointless.

"Stiles…" He began, finally understanding the words. "You know I had to do this… Deucalion… it's the only way to save our parents."

"I know you think you have to do this." "Stiles said in return. "And what does it say about you Scott, that every time the going gets tough you'd rather team-up with our enemies than trust your friends, your pack?"

"They're not my pack." Scott hissed, as if the very idea offended them.

"Fair enough." Stiles shrugged. "Though you probably should know, they're mine."

"You're not a wolf!" Scott snarled. "You don't have a pack!"

Peter actually laughed at that, uproariously.

"Oh Selene…" He exhaled eventually. "I definitely turned the wrong boy that night."

Stiles rolled his eyes. It wasn't the first time Peter implied, or even outright said that. It didn't matter. Stiles was human and he was happy enough that way. The best part? He wasn't even hiding anymore, his magic was right there, at his fingertips.

The boy could notice from the corner of his eyes that the Alphas were becoming restless. With Kali it wasn't surprising, she seemed the 'destroy first, ask questions never' kind; the twins looked a tad nervous, which intrigued Stiles (he'd never been sure if the twins were truly evil, or just with the Alphas because it was the least of whatever evils they might have been through). As for Deucalion… he was 'looking' at Stiles, through his sightless eyes, as if he were trying to see into him. Stiles guessed he must be picking up on the changes to his scent, like the Hales had (something Scott had managed to miss, which wasn't really that surprising).

"Our parents are safe Scott." Stiles announced. "And you should really leave now."

"What…?!" Scott cried out in shock.

He looked so lost right then, just for a moment, like the boy he'd been until just a little over a year prior, rather than the werewolf he'd become… Stiles couldn't help but feel a brief surge of melancholy at the memory. At the thought of the people they'd been. It only lasted for a second really. As much as the loss of Scott's friendship might have hurt, once upon a time, he'd learned to live with it (or without it, as the case might be). He'd moved on. And it's not like he was alone. He had his friends, the ones that had been there, in the distance but never truly lost, and he even had the Hales (he had Derek, as the traitorous corner of his mind reminded him, though the main part of it still refuse to ponder on it, and on how fundamental he'd been to the change in his magical glass pendant…).

"Stiles… how…?" Scott really didn't understand what was going on.

"My dad, your mom, Chris, they're all safe now." Stiles elaborated. "You can call your mom if you don't believe me. I made her promise to go home." He sighed. "She's safe and waiting for you. And now you should really leave."

"What are you going to do?" Scott pressed.

"We're going to deal with this problem once and for all." Derek stated evenly.

"You… what? No!" Scott was in denial. "Stiles! You cannot do it! You're human!"

In the background Kali was laughing at the statement, while Deucalion continued looking curious. It was hard to tell if he was even listening at all.

"Wait! What about the darach?!" Scott suddenly remembered. "What about Miss Blake?"

"Dead." Peter announced with obvious satisfaction, looking at his own claws like there was something fascinating about them.

"What…? You killed her? But how?!" Scott clearly wasn't expecting that.

"Just go Scott!" Stiles snapped.

The way Deucalion kept 'staring' was beginning to truly make him nervous. Also, he just wanted to be done already. His dad was liable to decide he couldn't wait anymore and the last thing they needed was for him to end up putting himself in danger trying to help… again.

"Stiles…"Scott called one more time.

Stiles was about to straight out yell at his once-best-friend, when the decision was taken out of his hands completely. It didn't surprise him really, he'd known the Alphas wouldn't be content with waiting forever.

It was one of the twins, Stiles didn't even focus on them long enough to make out which of them, that took hold of Scott by the back of his neck, throwing him violently to the side; where Scott landed on some debris with a loud enough snap there was no doubt something had broken. By the way all the alphas looked at him, it was obvious they were waiting for his reaction, probably expected him to go crazy worrying over Scott. They'd no idea…

Cora and Peter reacted first, throwing themselves against the twins. Being joined by Ylva, who stepped from behind some crates a moment later, a set of stiletto blades miming claws already arranged in between her fingers.

From the corner of his eye Stiles saw Kali move, she was aiming for Derek, and for a moment all he could think about was the attack in the loft… He hadn't been there for it, but Cora had told him enough, Stiles had had nightmares about it, and about what would have happened, how he'd have felt, if Derek hadn't managed to heal from the wound Kali dealt him that night. His reaction was instinctive as he stepped in between the two werewolves and believed with everything he had that she wouldn't be able to touch him.

It wasn't the same as a mountain ash barrier. That kind he only needed to focus on while setting it, then he could focus on something else. A magical shield… if his concentration wavered in the slightest it would fall. So, knowing there was no way he'd be able to focus too long on one thing, he instead imagined that same energy from the shield turning to a shockwave, with which he sent Kali flying back to crash against a column.

"Interesting…" Deucalion murmured, eyes turning red.

Stiles picked up on the change and had to wonder if maybe he saw something with his werewolf eyes (his alpha eyes) that he couldn't see with his quasi-human ones. It didn't matter in the end, not in the long run.

Stiles froze for a minute when Derek's hand was pressed to the back of his neck, only for breath, before he ran it straight down his spine in a silent communication. He knew what was coming next. Derek was going after Kali, because someone had to and for the time being it seemed like Deucalion had no intention of fighting himself. It was also meant to be a reminder for Stiles to take care of himself.

It should have been insane, beyond insane even, but while Loki was keeping an eye over Ylva, Cora and Peter as they dealt with the twins, and Nightingale stood guard over the unconscious Scott, Derek knew Fenrir was still waiting in the shadows, and despite not really knowing any of the newcomers he trusted none of them would let Deucalion, or anyone else, hurt Stiles. So he chose not to worry too much about the boy (the one his wolf kept purring over, had been doing so since Stiles had woken him in that elevator before dawn, and Derek so wasn't ready to contemplate what that might mean!).

"You are an interesting one, Stiles was it?" Deucalion commented, all his attention on him. "And I thought the greatest treasure in this quirky little town was your friend, the True Alpha…"

Stiles couldn't help himself, he snorted.

"You don't believe in him?" Deucalion clearly wasn't expecting that.

"I believe a lot of things where it comes to Scott." Stiles answered, completely blasé. "I would never finish listing them. But where it concerns us… I believe he's a werewolf, and has learned to deal with it; but that's all. Tell me something Deucalion, you call yourself the alpha of alphas. An alpha is supposed to be a leader, right? But how can one lead that which they hate?"

Deucalion could only blink.

"That's right." Stiles nodded. "Scott hates being a werewolf. Well, maybe hate is a strong word. But while he might have learned to deal with it, to accept it, that doesn't mean he embraces it. He doesn't see the bite as a gift, or his wolf as a blessing. If, right at this moment, you were to tell him there's a cure for what he is, he would take it. Also, how can you lead a pack, when you've never been one yourself? Scott has never wanted to be part of the Hale pack. The only reason he never truly became an Omega was because of Allison and myself; her love and I believe a bit of my magic managed to anchor him." He shook his head, pushing that aside. "So you see, I might believe a lot of things about Scott, even good things. But I wouldn't choose him as my Alpha."

"But you've made your choice." The 'blind' alpha nodded.

"I have." Stiles confirmed.

"Then I suppose I'll have to fight you after all." He stated, easy as you please.

As it turned out, Deucalion was fast, faster than even Stiles was expecting. He raised his cane, revealing the shiny, pointy tip, and threw it at Stiles before the boy quite realized what was going on. Thankfully, he wasn't alone.

Deucalion blinked. Things had changed so fast even his alpha sight hadn't quite caught it. Yet it was clear enough right then. In the man standing right before the boy, dressed head to toe in black leather and holding Deucalion's cane in his hand.

"That was a wrong move to make." Fenrir practically snarled.

It didn't matter that he hardly knew Stiles… Raven. The boy was cared for by two of the most important people in his life, by those he saw as his parents… Fenrir would protect Raven, and he would kill anyone who so much as tried to hurt him.

"You cannot defeat me!" Deucalion roared, calling on his alpha form. "I am the Demon Wolf!"

Fenrir laughed. He couldn't stop himself, didn't even try. He laughed long and hard.

"I will show you a demon wolf." He announced around his growing fangs.

The shift, it wasn't like with the Hale pack. It wasn't slow and Stiles didn't hear bones changing, skin stretching. It all happened quickly, smoothly. Fenrir let himself fall forward, but his hands never hit the ground, instead he landed on four paws, black fur covering his entire body. The other curious detail, differentiating him from the 'human' weres, was that his eyes didn't change color, they stayed hazel only… brighter somehow.

Deucalion didn't even see the attack coming. From one heartbeat to the next he lost his head.

On the other side of the warehouse the twins had long since surrendered, calling for mercy which, at Cora's and Nightingale's insistence, the others decided to grant. Loki just dropped on them in time to knock them out.

Kali shrieked as she realized she was the only one still standing, still fighting. Derek chuckled slightly at her. While he had certainly taken a beating, and it showed, he was still keeping up with her. He'd no idea how, considering how badly things had gone the last time he and Kali had fought, but he wasn't about to complain about it.

"I'll kill you all!" Kali wailed. "Starting with the little brat."

That made everyone react, though none more so than Derek, who was on Kali so fast there was very little she could do about it. In seconds she was on her back, one hand on her stomach and the other against her neck, though she was bleeding out too fast for even alpha healing to be enough. Everyone expected Derek to just finish her off already, except he didn't; instead, he did the very last thing anyone could have expected.

"Peter," He called.

The older Hale snapped up to attention, though not quite daring come close.

"If you still want the power, it's yours." Derek said simply.

"What…?!" No one had seen that one coming.

Stiles blinked because, he was so sure he was learning to read the Hales well enough, but even he hadn't expected that one. Had no idea why Derek was even doing it except… except a part of him did. Because he knew Peter had liked being an alpha; even if he'd come to hate how he became one, and he didn't begrudge Derek for taking the power (and his life) as he did. Derek had finally forgiven Peter, and as much as he might want to keep his family together (they, and possibly Stiles were all the pack he had left) he wasn't going to force Peter to stay (nor Cora for that matter). So he was giving him the option.

"I…" Peter actually seemed to stop and think about things before answering. "I do want the power, I do." He admitted after what seemed like forever. "But I want this pack more."

He did. Much as he wouldn't have believe himself capable of it in the past. He loved his pack. He'd finally stopped blaming Derek for what Kate Argent had done, to Derek himself and to the family as a whole, he'd stopped blaming him and Laura for abandoning him in that hospital, he'd never blamed him (or Stiles or Jackson) for killing him and ending his time as an insane alpha. Peter had finally managed to heal… and he'd realized that while it might not be what it had been once upon a time, he had a pack. With a niece, a nephew, an insane human, and possibly even a few not-so-humans, soon enough. He had a pack, and that was enough.

"Can someone…?" Derek waved her hand at the dying woman. "I don't want her power either."

Loki just nodded wordlessly, conjuring a blade and using it to cut the she-wolf's head off in a smooth motion. Nightingale looked away. She'd never say a thing against her love's actions, or those of the people she loved. She understood that, awful as it might be, sometimes one had to kill to protect, and to survive; didn't mean she had to like it.

A beat passed, two, and then…

"We won…" Cora breathed out in a mix of shock and wonder, as she dropped to her knees, like she couldn't quite believe it.

"We did." Stiles agreed, swaying on the spot, giddy with relief as he was.

They'd done it. They hadn't just survived against the infamous Alpha Pack, they managed to win. If that wasn't beyond amazing, Stiles had no idea what it was.

xXx

After some consideration they decided to take the unconscious Scott back to his place and leave him with Melissa; the twins they left in the distillery. It would be up to them what happened after that. Once thing was for sure though, if either of them attacked them again the pack wouldn't be so merciful.

They found Chris Argent waiting with his dad on the porch of the Stilinski place. Apparently they were just arriving (which meant that either they hadn't taken long at all in dealing with the Alpha Pack, or the FBI were making things more troublesome for them all than necessary).

"Allison and Issac called me, telling me they couldn't find Scott." Argent stated straight out.

"Hello to you too Argent." Stiles drawled. "We're fine, how about you?"

"Scott is fine if unconscious." Cora offered. "The twins' doing, not ours. We just dropped him off with his mom."

"What happened with the alpha pack?" Argent wanted to know.

"Gone." Peter stated simply.

It wasn't strictly true, but it wasn't like Argent had earned enough of their trust to know the details. And he knew it.

"Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to talk to my dad." Stiles stated in a very clear dismissal.

"What about your friends?" Argent pressed.

"We are no concern of yours, hunter." Fenrir stated, allowing just the slightest hint of the beast inside him to show through.

"You're not welcome here, Mr. Argent." Nightingale told him, her voice as gentle as ever, with an undercurrent of power and authority. "You should leave now."

Chris did not insist anymore, he just bowed his head and walked straight to his vehicle, driving away without a word.

"Stiles…?" Noah asked, looking at him, then at everyone else.

"Dad, you remember Silbhé Salani, from Chicago, they call her Nightingale nowadays." Stiles introduced them. "The one beside her is her husband, Loki." That was true enough, even if not legally. "Loki's brother Fenrir and his wife, Ylva." Easier than saying Fenrir was technically Loki's adopted son. "And of course you know the Hales: Derek, Cora and Peter."

"Weren't you dead?" Noah blinked, looking at Peter in shock.

Cora couldn't help herself, she giggled almost hysterically. She'd been the one to help Stiles make the big reveal to his dad; yet they obviously had left a lot of things out. And that was without considering everything that had changed just in the last 24 hours!

"I think we need to have a long talk dad." Stiles decided with a sigh.

"That we do son." Stiles agreed. "What do you say we order some pizzas and talk all together while we eat?" He turned to look at the others. "You're welcome to stay."

"We'd love to Sheriff." Nightingale nodded kindly.

"Noah, call me Noah." He told her with a nod.

They talked, a lot. They talked about what had been happening over the past year, all the things Cora and Stiles had already mentioned, and all the things they hadn't. And not even just the past year, but what had happened before, that night in Chicago, and the years since, while Stiles and the others had been long-distance friends.

"You're leaving, aren't you?" Noah's questions seemed to come out of nowhere, except it wasn't, not to them.

"I'll stay if you ask me to." Stiles answered sincerely.

"That I will never do." Noah shook his head. "Because I love you kid, and I know you'd do it. For me, you'd stay. But that's not what's the best for you. You need to go. To see the world and all the possibilities open to you, the things you've been repressing while here. Your magic, and your connections, your pack. You won't be happy if you stay and they go."

"I'll be happy with you." Stiles insisted, but he knew well enough that wasn't completely true, much as it might hurt.

"You'll be happier with them." Noah insisted. "Besides, it's not like it'll be forever, right?"

"No." Stiles hurried to reassure him. "Not forever."

It was the truth, even if none of them had dared say why things were the way they were exactly. They couldn't stay, not with the way things were going. Beacon Hills was supposed to be Hale land, but three Hales alone, with no support, there was no way they'd be able to hold onto it; especially not when those that should have been the allies were supporting an outsider with the excuse of some legendary 'True Alpha' power. Stiles might one day be able to give them that support, but not yet; he'd suppressed his true nature for too long, it'd take a while for him to learn to properly use his abilities. As for the others, they'd felt it, the bonds tying them to Stiles and the Hales; so it'd been decided they'd stick around together, be pack.

Stiles had enough credits all he needed was to present a few tests and he'd have his High School diploma, six months early. And then they could leave. It wouldn't be forever, they'd return one day; but not until they were ready to claim their territory once again. It might take a while.

"You better take care of my boy, Hale." Stiles's focus return to him just in time to listen to his dad pretty much threatening Derek.

"Dad?!" He eeped, going deep red.

Because of course his dad had noticed Stiles's interest in him, never mind that Derek had never showed any such interest except… except he had, hadn't he? At least in the last few hours, the way he couldn't seem to stop looking at Stiles, kept standing so close to him that, were it anyone else, the boy would have complained about personal space already. And the way Nightingale and Loki just looked at them, the first smiling and the latter practically smirking. He'd have to ask them at some point what it was they could see, that he couldn't.

"With my life, sir." Derek answered, with not a hint of a joke.

That only made Stiles go even redder, especially when he noticed just how close Derek's hand was to his own as they sat on that couch; so much their fingers had begun to intertwine without them consciously noticing.

xXx

They would be leaving in the morning. Because neither of them wanted to give time to any of the others to seek them out and demand answers. Stiles wasn't sure how it'd go if Scott were to try that with the mood Stiles himself had been in lately; and he was quite sure if Deaton's name was so much as suggested at any point, Peter would go psychotic all over again.

The plan for the time being was to drop by the school, where Stiles would hand in the papers to make it official that he was dropping out and would be presenting the exams to get his diploma at the earliest opportunity (probably a week or so later, in some other city, once they were sure they weren't being followed by anyone). He'd even managed to convince Cora to study with him so she might get her own diploma as well. Then… who knew? They planned on traveling together, all of them, even if they hadn't the slightest idea where they'd be going. One thing was for certain though, they'd be returning to Beacon Hills some day, when they were ready.

Noah insisted on all of them staying the night, and they somehow all ended in a puppy pile of sorts. Even Loki and Nightingale, who seemed the less likely had joined them on the mattresses, pillows and sheets arranged on the living room floor (their magic had also probably helped make it all a lot more comfortable than it'd have been otherwise).

It wasn't quite dawn when Stiles woke up, which surprised him not at all. He was nervous. Not afraid, and not doubtful, at all; but still nervous. With some twisting and turning he managed to extricate himself from the puppy pile and walked on bare feet to the back-porch, slipping out as silently as possible. It probably wasn't the best idea, stepping out in nothing but the sweatpants and t-shirt he'd slept in and bare feet, considering it was the middle of December and it couldn't have been over 40 °F outside; it certainly wouldn't have been for anyone other than him.

Stiles wasn't sure what was happening exactly, or how, but close contact with Nightingale and Loki (especially the latter) seemed to be pushing his own magic forth faster. The moment he stepped out the door he could feel his magic rising, making it feel as if he had a heavy, fuzzy blanket all around him.

He wasn't at all surprised when Derek joined him less than five minutes later, or when the werewolf placed a blanket over his shoulders. Stiles just rolled his eyes and then proceeded to raise his arm, blanket and all, and kept it up until Derek got the message and huddled next to him under the blanket. Being a werewolf and all he probably didn't need it, but it was the principle of the thing.

"We need to talk about what's going to happen today." Derek began in a very serious tone. "I know you may feel things are bad right now Stiles but…"

"Stop right there Derek." Stiles cut him off, a hand over the older male's mouth. "I know how you are, and I know you've probably spent the last few hours twisting things in your head. Making a list of all the reasons why this is a bad idea, how it is your fault, how you cannot allow me to do this… so let me make something very clear, first of all: my life, my choices. You're not 'allowing' anything. You may be my alpha, but I still choose what I do with my life. It's my choice to leave Beacon Hills. I hope you'll still want me with you, but even if you prohibit me from being with you, Cora and Peter; I'm still leaving today."

He was quite sure he wasn't the only one who took a deep breath after that. But Stiles wasn't done just yet.

"I know you always overthink things, so do I." Stiles went on. "And I know you've probably convinced yourself that whatever's wrong between Scott and I is somehow your fault. But it isn't. It's Scott's fault… and maybe mine. His because he's the one who's been consistently pushing me away since he got turned and mine because… well, it's partially my fault that he got turned at all; but aside from that, I've come to realize that it might have been a mistake to let Scott get away with so much. I… Scott's been my friend for so long, as long as I can remember. After his dad left and with the asthma he was… sort of fragile. I wanted nothing more than to protect him. I did everything I could to protect him, which more than once included keeping him from facing the consequences of his own actions. Like that night, when we went looking for a body in the woods. It might have been my idea, but it's not like it was originally my idea to listen in on the police frequency and go looking for trouble. That was actually him, years earlier, back when he still believed that if he got in big enough trouble his dad would come back." He shook his head. "The bite was the first thing I couldn't really protect him from, though I still did my best to make sure he'd be alright. Which was probably why he never really joined your pack. I kept him from realizing how much he really needed to."

"Stiles…"

"It's okay Derek. I've thought long and hard about this. For a lot longer than tonight, in fact. This whole… leaving Beacon Hills. I think it was a long time coming. I just wasn't sure I'd be brave enough to do it. I know that I probably never would have, not alone."

"You're not alone."

"No, I'm not." He made a pause, pressing the side of his face against Derek briefly, before adding. "I'm not running, I promise you. I know how you feel about that. But this isn't about escaping. This is about being free, about getting the chance to be myself; and I know I'll never have that here, with Scott and Lydia and the others…"

Stiles was so lost in his own words, he didn't really notice that he'd begun playing with his pendant again, until Derek put his own hand over it. He didn't pull on it, instead turned to look at Stiles, the question clear in his eyes: 'May I?' Stiles just nodded and let go.

When Derek saw the image in the pendant; the full moon that took practically the whole pendant, and on clear contrast the black wolf and the raven above it.

"It's a magic pendant." Stiles explained quietly. "It's meant to show my spirit animal. It used to show a raven over a dark blue, starry sky… it changed into what you just saw months ago."

He said nothing more, but there was no need, seeing that image, hearing the purring of his wolf on the back of his mind, the sense of MineMateMine, Derek understood. Without letting go of the pendant, Derek used his other hand to tip Stiles's face just enough to connect their mouths in a kiss. It was their first, yet it didn't feel like a first kiss at all. It wasn't shy, or clumsy or hesitant; all the opposite, it was soft, tender, not too intense, but still so full of love. Like it had been there all along, patiently waiting for them to see what was right before their eyes.

An hour later, as Nightingale and John placed platters full of chocolate chip pancakes and eggs on the table; while Loki added the mugs of hot chocolate and coffee, Derek and Stiles joined the table hand in hand. No one was surprised at all.


So... how did you like this? I hope you did. I love TW, though only really up until the first part of season 3. I liked some details from later on, but hated a lot of them. And as might have become obvious, main character or not, I'm not much of a fan of Scott.

As always, full-sized cover and set of wallpapers can be found on my DA account.

In case any of you are interested in seeing the pendant Stiles wears, go to google, the images section and search: "raven wolf full moon glass pendant" you'll find it there. Also, if you look up one with just a raven that'll give you an idea how the pendant looked before Stiles fell in love with Derek. I just love Sterek! I also loved writing the upcoming chapter, hope you'll enjoy reading it, it'll be up in a couple of weeks.

On a slightly different topic. If any of you have read my "M'aih" fic (it's from ST), I'm proud to announce that it's not become a series and the second part, called "Wuh'rak Esta" has been posted. The next will be coming in a few weeks. I'd love it if people would go read that. Thank you!

See ya in a couple of weeks with the second and final part of this particular AU.