KANIMA
The three remaining Hales remember the fire with varying degrees of accuracy and detail:
Scott of course was only a toddler when he had been carried out by his brother, stumbling and terrified and half choked to death on the heavy smoke. Having been a very young child, he remembered next to nothing but the sensory bits - shades of red and black, the snapping as beams split and warped and the merry crackling of the flames themselves, the uncomfortable heat encroaching upon him and growing in intensity, the sharp tangy smells of burning cedar and paint and fabric and electronics and skin.
Derek had been much older of course, nearing twenty, but somehow he recalled less. Only the overwhelming emotion and knee jerk physicality of his responses that night stayed with him - the inability to focus on anything but retrieving and removing his small charge from harm, getting him out into the freshness of the outdoors, and regretting not doing more - always such regret.
Peter remembered only rage and the hunt and glorious vengeance. The Argent woman's body was cold dead on the forest floor less than two hours after she had slithered away from her crime. Animals had feasted happily upon her remains. Her family never learned her fate, and sometimes Peter would take malicious glee in having postcards sent from exotic locales with hateful messages to the people who would always wonder what they'd done to provoke her. They missed her even when she sent them cards from Italy calling Aunt Mildred a ugly daft old cow.
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The sons of the alpha, traditionally with a large age gap between them, held a special role. The eldest, on the night of his sibling's birth, became the child's guardian. He protected the future alpha. When the guardian reached maturity, he became the alpha and led the pack until the day his younger brother was acknowledged as an adult wolf.
The younger then became alpha and the elder stepped down to become patriarch, the figure that would guide and guard the alpha. It was a full circle, and it connected and strengthened the pack, while keeping the balances of power even. The elders remembered their ruling days fondly, and the younger ones looked to them for wisdom. It was an ancient and ingenious system.
But now it seemed to fail them. With their alpha dead from the flames, all they had was a Patriarch, and pups with potential. They had twenty years to wait until Derek would reach maturity and inherit his role as alpha. Twenty years until he would be able to begin growing their numbers up again.
Derek and Peter remembered well enough to fiercely miss the loud boisterous clanlike pack life they had once had. They were the only three left of what had once been a thriving pack. Every time Derek's eyes glowed fluorescent blue, the alpha potential that they carried made Peter simultaneously furious and despondent.
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Then there was the matter of Scott.
At the rate the child was growing, Peter knew he wouldn't be able to send the boy to school on time. He'd raised enough pups to know that this one would be small and weak for quite an age before he was big enough to look six to human eyes. They'd probably have to wait until he was eight or nine to send him to kindergarten, and by then Derek might very well be on the older end of how young he could pass for.
They would have to find a good K-12 school that both boys could attend. But the child was still a toddler, barely two, meaning that they had quite a while to wait. So, after an extensive remodel, they sequestered themselves away back in the Hale house and lived. For years they kept to themselves, kept away from town and other people. They had each other and that was all they needed.
During the morning until noon, Peter taught Scott about the world through stories. It would be suspicious if he knew reading and math going into kindergarten, but Peter held nothing back regaling him and sometimes his brother too, with stories of his decades walking the earth; his time with his pack and the years he'd spent traveling and exploring on his own.
He told them about old Europe and the Far East, about watching the industrial revolution blossom into the technology age, about the American Frontier and the wars he'd seen and the people he'd met. And if Scott wasn't particularly bright, he at least grew to be a worldly boy. Peter taught him about society, how to act how to behave, what to do and what absolutely never to mention.
In the afternoons he trained Derek. Runs and drills and sometimes games. Blindfolding him, Scott and Peter scampered off into the woods and dared him to find them, challenged him to beat his own time. They played wargames sometimes too, with paint guns and secret bases.
Sometimes Scott switched sides and they ganged up on Peter, and sometimes no one knew whose side he was playing for - sometimes he was just the silly little wolf running around shooting at trees. But he grew and he grew, and he became strong and fast, and the games they played made him cunning.
Over the years, they came to appreciate the small quiet life they were building away in the forest.
It was nice as well.
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As he coughed on water and slipped from Stiles' grasp every few moments, he felt such an indescribably massive wave of guilt wash over him. Literally all of this was his fault. He tried in vain for a moment to brainstorm things that might not have been his fault about this situation. He could not think of anything. And no, he definitely wasn't just being down on himself or over self-critical. He had majorly screwed the pooch on this one, even if no one else was willing to say it.
As Stiles often laughingly reminded him, he was 37 years old - even if he was still on the last edges of being a wolfy teenager, he was in the body of a grown ass man. He had lived on the planet for almost four decades, and in just another few years he would rise as the alpha of their little pack. He should have known better. He should have been patient. There was a lot he should and shouldn't have done, but trying to start making new wolves early was definitely at the top of the list of things he should have avoided at all costs.
It had started with an itching, nagging sensation he had been feeling for months. He was nearing his maturity and the urge to grow his pack had started kicking a moment of weakness he had bitten Jackson. When the bite hadn't taken, he assumed that it was because he wasn't fully an alpha yet, and brushed the boy off. Oh god how he wished now that's he'd tried harder, that he'd taken responsibility for the boy and taken him under his wing into the pack like he should have. Then maybe he wouldn't be paralyzed from the neck down in eight feet of water, Stiles holding onto him for dear life.
He knew his boyfriend was exhausted, the strength was being sapped from his body exponentially quicker and Stiles wouldn't be able to keep them both afloat much longer. He had considered telling Stiles to let him go and conserve his own energy so that at least he would be able to save himself, but he knew that just hearing him say it would break the boy's heart. And that he would never do it. So he he did nothing but lay in Stiles' arms and listen to him quietly stress-babble, because there was nothing he could do.
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Dean and Cas enjoyed the lacrosse games. They knew their son wasn't the strongest or the most built, but he was agile and clever, and he had been trained physically from a young age. They didn't want him in the hunter life, but they sure as hell weren't going to leave him unprepared for it. So even though he wasn't the star, he put on a good show. He scored incredible goals sometimes and he made unbelievable passes sometimes, but most of the time he just ran around, and they were eager to watch because it was something that made him happy.
But as they sat in the bleachers, they grew more and more anxious. The game had been over for quite a while, and though there were still people on the field and in the stands, they hadn't seen Stiles or Derek the entire game. The boys were starting to pour out from the locker room and neither of them were in the crowd. Dean had sent several 'stern and fatherly' text messages, all of which had gone unanswered, and their combined anxiety was becoming a nearly tangible presence that was putting other people off.
As the people milling about eventually started leaving, the rock in Dean's stomach grew in weight. He leaned against Cas, scooted around on the bench, crossed his arms, uncrossed them, stood up and looked around again at everyone whose face he could see, sighed heavily, and sat again. Cas tugged gently at his coat sleeve
"Perhaps he went home with a friend" Dean gave him a side eye
"Without telling us?"
"Perhaps he and Derek are sharing intimacies in the locker room. In celebration of their victory"
"But Cas they weren't on the field at all. Ugh, I'm just gonna get up and-"
his phone blasted crazy frog and he fumbled to flip it open
"Slava where the Hell have you-"
He heard his son screeching something about being stuck in the pool
"Shut up and put the phone down okay? SLAVA I don't care if it falls in the goddamn water I'll buy you a new one just keep swimming and we'll be right there"
He glanced at Cas "you hear all that?", and with a swift nod He grabbed his arm and transported them to the pool. Dean heard the hissing before he saw the creature. It was standing near the edge, it's claws out and slashing in the air towards his son and Derek, it's tail raised and swishing like a cat's. Cas stood between him and it, and it tilted it's head as if examining. It made no move to abandon it's post. The boys were in the water panting and coughing and spluttering and Stiles had one arm around Derek and one arm raised high keeping his cell phone dry, and his legs were kicking frantically beneath him.
Dean swore, "Goddamnit Slava I said drop the phone. Get a better grip on your boy there he's slipping" Stiles wheeled around frantically to face him, and threw it at Dean, hitting him in the chest. He made a mental note to compliment his aim later, then turned to face Cas. "Care to do something about the…I don't even know what that is"
Stiles shouted over the sound of splashing and echoes "IT'S CALLED A KANIMA"
Dean frowned "I'VE NEVER HEARD OF THAT WHAT IS IT?"
Stiles spit out a mouthful of water "IT'S SUPPOSED TO BE A WEREWOLF BUT SOMETHING WENT WRONG"
Dean took a moment to think "DEREK ARE YOU RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS THING?"
His reply was a very meek "yes" that could barely be heard, and Stiles shouted over him "HE SAYS HE IS BECAUSE HE FEELS GUILTY, BUT HE'S NOT. IT WAS AN ACCIDENT. SOMETHING'S GIVING JACKSON AN EMOTIONAL BLOCK AND THAT'S WHY HE CAN'T TURN"
"THAT THING IS JACKSON? JACKSON WHITTEMORE? THE BIGGEST DICK AT SCHOOL? YOUR SWORN ENEMY?"
"YES, NOW OTHER DAD CAN YOU PLEASE WORK SOME ANGEL MOJO AND FIX THIS MESS?"
Cas nodded solemnly, and stepped forward to the Kanima. He held out his hands a gesture of non-hostility, and placed two fingers on it's forehead. Blinding white light shone out of it's eyes and scales melted away into soft human skin. Jackson blinked and yawned and shook his head, then promptly screamed and scrambled back, falling into the pool.
Cas sighed and snapped, and all three wet boys flopped onto the poolside floor. He waved a hand over Derek's body and healed the paralysis, which was beginning to wear off a little already, and dried them both.
He looked to Jackson, who looked absolutely terrified, and held hands up again "I am Castiel, an Angel of the Lord, and I mean you no harm, child. You were corrupted. Your strong emotions blocked you from turning into a werewolf. That blockage has been purified. You are now one of Peter's wolves- No, wait" he stared at Derek "He is yours is he not?" He nodded a very small nod and leaned back into Stiles a little farther.
Dean gritted his teeth "A damn good explanation Slava, there better be a goddamn fantastic explanation for this" Jackson looked confused for a moment, mouthing 'slava' to himself, then laughed "I remember now, Coleslaw Winchester, the embarrassment of the kindergarten class. I can't believe we ever let you live that down" Stiles couldn't tell whose growl was louder, Derek's or his father's.
Cas looked at him askance "that seems like a foolish and unnecessary thing to say to the son of the being that saved you from iniquity and almost certain damnation" Stiles snapped a photo on his, thankfully dry and healthy, phone of Jackson's face. It was circulating facebook within minutes, and the poor guy would probably never live down the image captioned "cool kid shits himself'. Stiles sighed and nuzzled against Derek on the poolhouse floor.
He was probably grounded until he was thirty, and he was destined for a long and uncomfortable conversation in his very near future, but at least they were all safe. And Jackson had gotten told by his angel dad. Crises averted.
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They sat in the Winchester living room. Derek sat on the floor with Stiles nestled in his lap, arms tight around his torso. Everyone else rested on the sofa and armchairs.
Jackson opened his mouth to snap out a remark and Derek growled at him, which led to Peter glowering at Derek, which led to Scott whimpering, which led to Stiles giving Derek puppy eyes, which led to Dean glaring at everybody, which led to Cas making heavy fluttering wingbeat noises, which effectively stopped everything.
Jackson stopped trying to share his opinions.
Peter pinched the bridge of his nose and turned to Derek "I'm glad this is resolved, but Derek I am surprised by the sheer level of stupidity it must have required for you to think that this would turn out well. I cannot believe you did this under my nose, and I cannot believe you hid this from me, and I cannot believe myself not catching you. This was just..." he sighed heavily and crossed his legs the other direction "this does not put us in a good place with our allies, Derek"
Derek looked up with his mouth open in indignation "Dean and Cas are our friends! They would never stop us from growing the pack!" Peter growled and reached forward to tug brutally on his nephew's ear.
"You insolent, foolish pup! Of course we trust the Winchesters. But do you honestly think they're the only type of hunters in the world? Did you actually forget that there are men out there cruel enough and heartless enough and cunning enough to destroy entire families? That there are men out there who don't bat an eye at the thought of mercilessly slaying women and children and elders? That are eager and slavering to kill us and would do so without a moment's hesitation?" he gnashed his teeth loudly and Derek whimpered, completely cowed.
"We are a pack of three able-bodied men, nothing about us wins symphony - Scott is almost twenty, he is no child in their eyes and they will eagerly kill him. You and I though, we are their greatest threat and their most desired kill - a wolf on the cusp of rising into his role as alpha and a patriarch full of centuries worth of knowledge."
"Our friends may be good and kind, and they may even afford us sanctuary and alliance when it is necessary, but Derek literally everything about us is a target. The only reason we're not still in the middle of a mess trying to capture and contain the kanima is because of sheer dumb luck and the angelic powers of our good friend Castiel. You've drawn attention to us and now we are not safe, we are not hidden, and we can now only wait for outside hunters to make the first move. You've hobbled us like prey, Derek."
His moved his hand to the back of his nephew's neck, and he pulled his face forward to press it into his shoulder, placing a ghosting kiss over the ear he'd twisted in his rage. He reached out with his other arm and Scott was there instantly. He sat up straighter and righted himself, amusement on his face when they leaned in on him in unison, one on each side and him in the middle. He sighed and looked sheepishly over at Dean. "I'm sorry for the family drama outburst. Really though, we're not going to be able to stay under the radar much longer. And now that Jackson is pack..."
He huffed and glanced appraisingly at the boy "Which I suppose is a good thing, didn't think we'd start branching out for another few years. Nice to know it's an option. But that's irrelevant. Aside from this massive blunder, we've done a damn fine job staying under the radar. If we can keep this incident contained, the only hunters that would be able to connect us to Beacon Hills would be the Argents. If they hear there's been activity it could give them reason to return. Do you have any knowledge of their whereabouts?"
Dean nodded "Last word I had from Chris was around the time you and I made our treaty. He told me that he had settled his family down into a town in Southern California" he locked eyes with Peter "After the fire he wanted to respect your grieving and give you some space. He was glad to hear that there was someone he trusted in the area after he left; someone to keep things under wraps."
"Little did he know we'd all become such good friends. Nearly goddamned inlaws. So for now at least, I think I've got you covered if Argents get involved. I've been friends with Chris for damn near thirty years and I've never met a man with a better sense of judgment or one that sticks more loyally to his code," he leaned to rest his elbows on his knees, and Cas placed a gentle hand on his back.
He clapped his hands together and stood "But I can call him, and I will. If things are going down we all need to be on the same page. If I remember his code, you haven't broken it so long as Jackson willingly accepted the bite"
Dean turned a somewhat haughty gaze upon the boy "Got anything else you need to fess up before we all part ways? This is a speak-now-or-it'll-bite-you-in-the-ass-later type deal here kid, nothing to be ashamed of and nothing is worth the consequences of withholding information"
Jackson flushed a bright pink that made Stiles and Scott absolutely giddy with laughter until Peter sent them a harsh glare. He coughed "Umm...I think I may have killed some people" there were exclamations and general chaos reigned for a moment until Dean grew fed up "EY, enough. Explain, kid"
"When I was that lizard thing-"
"The Kanima"
"Shut up coleslaw"
"EY. You respect my son"
"Sorry, sorry...I don't really have any memories from being the kanima, but I know that I turned into it sporadically. Sometimes three or more times a week, and only ever at night. I would wake up covered in blood and it was never my own" he coughed lightly and wrung his hands "I mean, I hope I didn't kill anyone. I'd love to imagine that I didn't, but I'm pretty sure that I did. I must have"
Cas laid a hand on his shoulder and spoke to the room "I think Jackson may have been under someone's control, doing the bidding of someone we aren't yet aware of. There's just…there's more going on here than this," he locked eyes with the trembling boy and spoke more gently "Child, you are not a killer. Your body has been manipulated without your knowledge or consent, and someone has used it for evil purposes. You are not at fault"
Peter sighed "He's right. And now that the kanima is gone from you, your place is with Derek as his beta. You can still live with your family and go to school with your friends, but you must submit to him and become part of our pack, or fall into isolation as an omega. I say this because it would be best if it could be done in a controlled place, here and now being ideal"
Jackson floundered, his innate cockiness long forgotten "How do I- what do I have to do?" Derek delicately moved Stiles off of his lap so that he could stand, towering high above them "Shift and bare your neck to me" he growled, his eyes flashing red.
Scott and the Winchesters watched with rapt fascination as Jackson swallowed audibly, standing but staying slightly hunched over. He squeezed his eyes shut and slowly lupine features took him over – hair meandered across his face and claws shinked out from his nailbeds, his nose widened and flattened against his face and his teeth sharpened and elongated. When he opened his eyes they were a startling electric blue.
For a moment he struggled, a war within himself, and then his head was thrown back rather dramatically. Stiles and Scott would have giggled under any other circumstance.
As seconds passed and Derek shifted, he brought his hand down around the back of Jackson's neck, pushing his head back farther. "You're pack now; I'm your Alpha, Scott is your packmate, and Peter is your Patriarch. Like he said, you can stay with your family, but you belong with us now"
Jackson fell to his knees, and Scott crawled over into his space. Ignoring the horrified look Stiles was shooting him, he nuzzled his nose into the boy's shoulder, grinning hugely "Dude, you smell like family!" Jackson looked slightly scandalized, but he put up no protest and leaned into the touch after a moment.
Dean left to make his phone call, and Stiles dragged Derek up to his room to 'collect information about pack dynamics'. Scott and Jackson stayed on the floor, leaned up against the sofa, cuddling awkwardly.
Cas vanished with a soft fluttering noise, muttering something about finding the Daehler boy. Peter slid down onto the floor and the boys moved over to pile onto him.
A storm was fast approaching on the horizon, but for now, for this moment, the waters were calm.
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Stiles and Scott enjoy nothing more in the following week than watching Derek drill Jackson relentlessly during training, and making sardonic quips from afar. When he has time Peter sits with them on the sidelines, occasionally piping up suggestions or barking orders, much less enthusiastic but still plenty amused.
They spend their days at school feeling antsy and wishing they weren't there, and then Derek picks them all up in his Camaro and they rush as a unit to the Hale mansion deep in the woods, away from town and towards safety and familiarity. His gruff demeanor isn't enough to hide the fact that he's never happier than when he's in the presence of his brother and his mate and his fellow packmember.
When they arrive every day they find that Peter, Dean, and Castiel are already there. If they're not talking or visiting or relaxing in the lounge, they're in the study doing god knows what, huddled around papers and maps and whispering conspiratorially. None of them like it; they don't feel lied to but rather excluded. Something is happening, something big, and no one cares to keep them informed. So they train.
Scott and Derek have, of course, been trained rigorously since they were toddlers, and Stiles knows five martial arts styles and can work firearms almost better than his father. But Jackson, though physically strong and fast and possessing naturally excellent reflexes, has next to zero combat experience and a surprising lack of survival or wilderness knowledge for someone who grew up surrounded by forest.
There is much laughing on Stiles' and Scott's part during the brief fire building seminar held in the middle of the driveway far from any natural kindling (foliage, underbrush, Stiles' jeep, etc.) and the only thing more hilarious than his inability to make the bone-dry twigs spring up into a blaze is the time he finally succeeds and catches one of his pantslegs aflame.
That's how they spend their days and evenings. And when Jackson grows frustrated with being tossed and beaten around, he grumbles and suggests using Stiles as their training dummy. On one particular day he says something especially offensive, unrepeatable of course, and there is a bullet in his left ass cheek almost before Derek actually starts growling at him.
The much older werewolf in question glows with pride for his mate, until he realizes, as Jackson flounders on the pavement, that someone will have to remove the bullet and that that someone will have to be him. It's a bonding experience. Scott and Stiles have never laughed harder in their lives. They have their fun, they grow as a pack, they come to grudgingly like each other.
When they go still the next day during training, Stiles demands to know what they're hearing, what he's missing. They tell him that a car is coming down the old road through the woods. That's…well that's never really happened before, and it's definitely cause for concern. Peter lopes out of the house towards them, Dean and Castiel close behind, and though he says nothing, his levelheadedness calms them.
A shiny red land rover pulls up in front of the house, and a man and a woman get out of the car. His face and his smile are kind but his eyes are keen and analytical, her eyes are wild and cold and somehow more animalistic than their own. They are wary of him, and terrified of her. Still Peter does not panic, and this keeps them steady.
He goes forward to greet them, introducing them as hunters. Friendly hunters. Hunters that are here to help, apparently. The wolf boys hear Peter whisper under his breath, clearly only for their ears "They're the Argents, they were informed of the incidents out of courtesy, and then insisted that they had to see for themselves. While they're here just - try to behave". Though meant to calm, it only makes them more apprehensive. They don't like this; they don't like it at all.
As with many situations when visitors come to call, it takes an eternity and a half for everyone to meander inside and get settled into the sofas, and for the boys to be shoved into the kitchen to prepare coffee. Derek's eyes follow them as they scuttle into the kitchen, very clearly longing not to be an adult part of the discussion. Stiles grins and winks at him, and scampers to catch up with Jackson and Scott.
They huddle in the furthest corner of the kitchen, momentarily basking in shared terror "What did Peter say outside? I know he told you guys something" Scott and Jackson share a look "They're here because they're being nosy. They're the Argents that your dad talked about" Stiles leans heavily against the wall "Well, shit"
A few minutes later finds them bringing out trays of coffee and cookies. After passing one to Derek (in what he knew was his boyfriend's favorite mug), Stiles makes to go and sit with his fathers, only to find Derek's hand clamping down around his wrist and his eyes puppy-dog wide and shiny. He chuckles and let's Derek pull him down next to him, sitting so close that their thighs and sides press together tightly.
The conversation is still only just starting, and though their formal living room is large there are not quite enough seats, and Scott and Jackson end up on the floor by Peter's feet. They feel heavy gazes passing over them but know that Stiles is getting even worse, as they stare blatantly at him where he sits halfway in Derek's lap, and disapproval is clear on their faces.
The woman leans forward in her seat, hands in her lap gently cradling her warm mug "So Derek, are we correct in believing that this whole Kanima business all started because you tried to grow your pack early, before you'd reached maturity- before you were ready?" her question stings, as it is clearly meant to, and he holds back a growl. Stiles clutches his hand and it help center him, he smiles at her sheepishly
"You could definitely say that Ma'am. As I near maturity, I feel many ancient instincts calling to me, guiding me. Our pack is small and everything in me was telling me that it was my duty to change that. I never would have given in of course, had Jackson not come to me and asked. He's quite clever, and caught on to our…furry little secret…without having to be told" When her face becomes livid it makes her no less terrifying, and he fears for the chair's fragile arm in her grip. Her blazing red hair matches the wildfire in her eyes.
Nostrils flaring and eyes wide, it's astonishing that her words come out so civil "You make it so easy to discover your secret? How were you found out? And you boy, Jackson, what were your intentions in asking for the bite?" they bite like little papercuts, but are delivered in such a low throaty and almost seductive tone that the room wakes almost from a stupor after she's spoken them. Her man beside her has the grace to look sheepish, and rests a hand gently on her leg.
Peter shakes his head and clears his throat "You're absolutely right Victoria, in that over the years we've been careless. Derek's gone to high school several times over so that he could stay with his brother and his mate, and we've stayed in this town for almost two decades while he's remained ageless. But you'll understand of course that this has been our home for generations, long before even I was born. We've had no interactions with hunters other than yourselves and the Winchesters for decades. We have grown complacent"
"But I can say with confidence that in the years to come, Derek will grow into his role as alpha, and our pack will grow in number once again. We will turn only those who are fully informed and consenting, as has always been our way. Your thoughts?" Derek has never felt such pride for his patriarch, and as Peter sits and speaks like a fearless king, he has never respected him more. She appears to be taken aback, and does not respond for an awkward moment. Peter looks down to his feet "Jackson you did not answer, speak freely"
The boy looks up into his Patriarch's soothing gaze, and turns his head to catch sight of his alpha's approving nod "I only noticed because I was jealous, and because I was power-hungry. All year long I've been trying to be better at lacrosse than Scott, and I was sure that he was cheating somehow. I saw him practicing with his brother and Stiles after school one day out on the field and I thought Derek looked familiar."
"I looked him up in the yearbook and found out that he was a senior for three years, and a junior for three years, and a sophomore for three years, and was never a freshman. He was never in extracurriculars or sports and he never made any waves. Teachers came and went and he was always there. Sometimes he went through them in order and sometimes he just repeated years. He didn't stand out and I don't think anyone would have noticed unless they were as…curious as I was…"
The woman arches like a cat, rolling her shoulders like a beast of prey "You went back to high school for nearly a decade? Why would you risk that? How could you possibly have done such a foolish thing?" Stiles winces and squeezes Derek's thigh, he doesn't need to see his face to know that he's already seething, that this woman is riling him up to the point of mania.
When he speaks, his words are surprisingly clear around huge fangs "You've lived here Argent. The school is K-12. My uncle has explained already. I stayed in school as long as I could so that I could be near my brother. So that I could be near my mate. You know our physiology, you know how strong the mate-bonds are. I could not stay away."
"Even now I stay here anxious and frantic and restless every day without him. I pace the floor and run through the woods and pine like a dog while my mate gets even smarter and learns so much and finishes his education so that he can have as many opportunities as possible. I spent ten years in high school so that I could guard and protect him as he passed through elementary school and middle school. I waited for him for ten years while he grew into a man, knowing he was my mate, my true fated lover and the walking embodiment of the other half of my soul."
"I volunteered in his classroom during high school free periods every single year of his education; I made macaroni art with him when he was in kindergarten and helped him learn how to read. I taught him his times tables and division tables and the square roots. I kept him company when the long years of middle school were lonely and harsh. I've been his friend and his mentor when he needed me the most, and I've never been away from his side when he wanted me there."
"He's known what I am and has been a member of my pack since he was five years old, and now that he's of an appropriate age I will continue to spend every waking moment of my life giving him nothing but the love and the devotion that he deserves. Don't try and make this something else in your head, Argent. I've behaved myself and I've kept my head as low as possible. We're a barely-noticeable presence for good in this community and if you think for even one second that-" he feels a harsh tugging on his wrist and looks at his mate to see his eyes watery and a bright flush spreading across his face he grins and clings to Derek's arm, holding it like a baby plastered to his chest
"I think she gets it big guy. Let's keep this friendly, kay? Miss Argent, I know he seems like a growly angsty enigma, but really as you can see he's just a great big emotional hot mess. He's totally harmless. Uh, kinda. You know what I mean. Haha. Ha" he swings back around to face Derek and grins, eyebrows high and searching, and Derek can't help but calm down and let out a small noise of amusement.
On the sofa opposite, Dean shifts awkwardly, nothing in Derek's declaration of love comes as a surprise to him and it certainly doesn't make him uncomfortable. This may though be the most he's ever heard the man talk at one sitting. Castiel on the other hand, well Dean sees a truly wondrous look of joy on his face, of pride and of happiness. And is that - wow, Victoria Argent is smiling. That's equal parts reassuring and terrifying.
Chris' mouth spreads into a much gentler smile, and whatever she is planning on saying is lost. She nods and purses her lips together tightly; she is still displeased, but for now she is appeased. Moments of silence fly past, and their opposing sides are forgotten.
They drink their coffee, the young wolves on the floor, Peter in his armchair, Victoria and Chris on the loveseat, Dean and Castiel politely close on one end of the sofa and Stiles pulled into Derek's lap on the other. A weight has lifted from the room. There are no hunters or werewolves in the room, only friends and acquaintances.
Chris coughs somewhat demurely "Out of consideration of what we've heard here today, and my good friendship with Dean, I should probably tell you that we were only the first wave" everything tenses "My father is on his way"
Chaos
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A gentle electromagnetic pulse startled everyone into quiet. Castiel stood and addressed the room "We must stay calm. No offense to your personages Chris and Victoria, but we prepared for the worst when word came of your impending visit. News of Gerard's coming is all the more unsettling.
We must be ready for any attack, and we cannot underestimate him or we will surely perish. We must take proactive and preemptive measures to keep ourselves as best protected as possible. Do you know when he will be here?" He turned a discerning eye towards Victoria and she stared back unwaveringly
"He has been busy lately, but this matter has drawn his attention. At the earliest he will be here in a week, you may have a few days more than that, but I can give no guarantee. There is also a strong chance that they have rallied the other extremists. I don't know how many of Gerard's old contacts will still fight with him, but when last I was in charge of his affairs he still had at least ten that would travel any distance and fight any battle with him. There is no knowing the numbers they may be able to assemble" she stood and Chris did as well, taking care to remain slightly behind her.
She glanced at Peter and then Derek and sighed very softly. The hawk like intensity melted away from her features "I see now that your pack is truly a peaceable one - and though I would sincerely hope that you conduct yourselves more carefully in the future, we have no conflict between us. Understand this though Hale, they may be mad and they may be cruel, but they are family and they are hunters. We will not raise arms against them. We leave you now with this news and we wish you…the chance to keep living your lives."
Her head jerked downwards in a pitiful imitation of a curtsey, but the message rang across loud and clear. They may not have the support of other hunters, but they would not be fighting a war on multiple fronts. They had, essentially, the blessing that they were in the right. They were the innocent party in this confrontation, and any action would be considered defense.
It wasn't much, but it was meaningful, and the smile on Derek's face was genuine as he escorted them to the door. It closed and they drove away, silently to the humans, but loudly and intimately to the wolves. No one spoke a word until they were out of hearing range.
Stiles coughed awkwardly from his place on Derek's lap, wiggling slightly "So would I be correct in paraphrasing that down to the fact that we are now four werewolves, an angel, and two human meatsacks, up against an army of possibly twenty or more radical veteran terrorist no-rules hunters that are focused with a military precision on bringing about our painful and most likely exceptionally inhumane deaths?"
Derek stared at him with his mouth open for a moment, then seemed to think better of whatever he was going to say, looking to his uncle for confirmation. Who immediately nodded. Dean looked incredibly uneasy, and giving his mate a small sheepish shrug, Stiles went to sit next to him. They hugged a little bit.
Everyone pretended not to notice for a few moments. This was a room in which only manly things happened. This was an incredibly manly father-son hug. Wartime transforms emotional rollercoasters into manly manfests of testosterone-laced broship. Eyes were averted. Swiping at the corner of his eye, Dean stood and cleared his throat.
"I liked where Cas was headed when he talked about defensive measures. This is nothing short of actual war we are about to embark into. I'm calling Sam and Bobby, and all the hunters I have alliance with from my glory days. Slava I want you training with your bow and crossbow and guns every day, and I want you doing runs and drills and physical training with the wolves; you are not a meatsack and you are not going onto any battle field until I'm sure you're ready. Peter I would suggest that you look into contacting any other packs you know that bear grudge against Gerard or Kate" He sighed deeply and moved to stand next to Derek, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Now I know you had difficulty starting out, but you've proven that you can make new wolves. If it's something that your uncle is willing to permit, then I think you and the boys should find as many good candidates that will accept the bite as possible, and continue adding to your pack."
"I'm sure Peter has taught you and I'm sure you've felt the effects with Jackson already, but remember that every new wolf will increase the entire pack's power, especially the alpha. That's you buddy, and right now we need you as juiced-up and on top of your game as possible. You need to be the strongest you've ever been, the most agile, the most in control. That goes for all of you. As far as I'm concerned, we're about to have a real war on our hands, and death is not an option for anyone in this room. Okay, now scatter"
No one moved for a moment, then Peter pulled his cell from his pocket and hurried off to the study. They boys rushed out the backdoor in a frenzy, and raced each other to the training yard. Stiles ran around to the front to fetch his compound bow from the jeep. Alone in the sitting room, Dean plopped down heavily next to his husband, who grasped his hand tightly.
He turned to look make eye contact "Cas baby, I think you might have the hardest job of us all. We're gonna need your angel mojo now more than ever, and quite frankly we've never really been clear about how much of it's left." Cas fidgeted under his gaze, and looked away. He was always incredibly uncomfortable discussing his grace.
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Over the next few days they moved quickly and they struck like lightning. Scott found them, and Stiles lured them in; he sweet talked them and made nice and explained every little detail that they might need to know, human comrade and voice of reason for when the wolf was revealed and they were asked to make a choice.
Jackson was on the sidelines as the popular one that they could trot out if they needed any extra convincing factors. Derek was there at the end when they said yes, coming in the room silently and sitting down calmly next to Stiles. His job was to give off soothing vibes of gentleness and kindness and acceptance, to show a sweet face that wasn't their horrific nightmares of werewolves, a face far separated from anything they might imagine when they thought of the supernatural.
He smiled more over the next day and a half than he ever had in his life towards anyone but his mate. Complaining about it only encouraged Stiles to call him Sourwolf with hideously obnoxious frequency.
Candidates were chosen based off of a complex matrix that included homelife, social life, personality, and general presence. They needed bravery and loyalty and strength of character, but they also needed people who wouldn't be missed and who wouldn't be noticed. Who wouldn't make this a game. Who would beable to fully realize that while being a werewolf would have lots of fun long-term perks and benefits, that they were essentially being enlisted for war.
For the moment, and for the foreseeable future, being a werewolf was not an endeavor taken to make life more enjoyable.
Scott's excellent judgement of character was, for the most part, almost completely responsible for their 100% success rate. So far, every candidate he had chosen had been receptive to their offers (wildly enthusiastic, he would go so far as to say). A battalion of new wolves graced the pack. Things were still bleak, war was never a harbinger of good feelings, but they were looking up.
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Peter had contacted nearly every Pack in California and the Pacific Northwest. There were old families left, but they were few and far between, and they had grown comfortable in their homes. Like the Hales had for twenty years, they were enjoying times of peace and were relatively hunter-free. He grew more and more disheartened with each call.
They were so ecstatic to hear from him, so glad to know that he was growing his pack, so nice that Derek had taken over as alpha and it always did suit him so. Oh but, you called because you needed help? Nope, sorry old friend, little bit busy. Little bit cozy at home. Little bit safe in my own territory and domain and no of course I'm not going to sign up to throw my pack away to their deaths up against the Argents. Good luck though. You'll need it. Yes well, bye then.
He was near the end of his patience
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Castiel knew that he would never be at full power again. He was still an angel but a portion of his grace had been lost in purgatory and his instincts told him he would never see it again. It was better this way though. He had been almighty, he had been an angel, and he had even lived as a human. So from a comparative standpoint, he still felt strong. With the amount of power he had he could keep himself and his family safe for the rest of eternity.
He had "some juice left to spare" as Dean might say. Against humans his power would be plenty enough. But still he worried. He knew Gabriel had only very recently come back and was staying with Sam, but he wasn't sure if this was information he was permitted to reveal.
As far as he was aware, they were holed up pretty tight and not a lot of people were in the know. Gabriel had told Castiel that they were in "the honeymoon phase". He wasn't sure if he would be able to call on him, how much power he had left, if he would even need to.
As much as he longed to see his brother, he really hoped this was a fight he could handle by himself.
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The last thing he remembered was Gerard screaming like a lunatic; swearing that he would kill the kanima, and spurring his hunters into action. It had been a few hours since, and those were the last of his lucid memories, the ones that made sense, the ones from before this horrific melee began. And now here he was in the middle of the forest where he'd lived his entire life; bullets rained from seemingly all directions, dirt and leaves flew into the air, shrieks rent the sky.
A bloodcurdling roar ripped through the night, followed by answering howls from far, far away. Nothing was going according to plan, and every instinct in Derek's body screamed at him to protect his mate above all else. Smaller urges told him to seek out his brother and his patriarch and his packmates as well, but none blared so loudly as the one to find Stiles and grab him up tight in his arms and run. Run until he found a place of silence and solitude and safety for them to collapse into.
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In the end they had had a week and a half. A week and a half of frightening radio silence; preparing and training and waiting - the waiting was the worst. Help had meandered in over the course of a few days; a small caravan of hunters had arrived led by Bobby, Ellen, and Garth, and they set up camp in the woods surrounding the Hale house.
A small pack of distant cousins from Washington had dropped everything to run down and help, their last alpha had been killed by the Argents the year before, and they were desperate for revenge.
The biggest surprise though had been when Sam and Gabriel appeared in the sitting room out of the blue. Castiel hadn't really been surprised, and that had led to a rather volatile conversation between him and Dean later that night that resulted in vigorous lovemaking. Stiles was happy to see his uncle Sam, and absolutely ecstatic about meeting Gabriel "Uncle on both sides apparently, kid."
Choosing and convincing Erica, Isaac, Boyd, and Danny (at Jackson's insistence) had been Stiles great achievement for the first few days. None of them had taken much prodding, and all of them were completely informed before they were allowed to make a choice.
The Hales weren't running a circus here and they didn't need the equivalent of carnies in their pack. This shit was going to get done the right way, wartime be damned. And thanks to lots of pre-wolf counseling, everything went relatively smoothly after they were recruited and turned. There were several days of ridiculously intense training, but nothing they weren't prepared for and well informed of in advance. Everyone was pretty much cool beans.
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For some reason they were all expecting to dive right into shark week with a splash. It all started fairly calmly though, much like the quiet apprehensive vacuum of shifting pressures and temperatures in the air before a superstorm devastates the tropics.
The wolves all heard it the moment several large cars rumbled into the forest, perfectly obeying the local 25mph speed limit even though the long driveway was technically private property. They reported bewilderedly that one of the SUVs was playing cool jazz. Another was playing a Ke$sha song. Party in the USA blasted so loudly from the lead car that even the humans could hear it.
From that car climbed out a sprightly old man. They felt like rabid dogs slavering to rush outside as one and fall upon him and be done with it, to rip him to shreds before he had the chance to work his influence and display his hatred. Everything in the house jumped about a foot and a half when the bell rang.
Dean shook himself and braced himself to open the door. It swung wide and after a moment Gerard chuckled and pulled out a badge "I'm here representing the FBI" Dean responded with a hysterical whine of nervous laughter and Gerard just laughed harder.
The old man gave him another once over "It's been years boy, and I've gotta tell you I'm awful sorry to hear about your daddy and all that nasty hell and purgatory business. You really made yourself a legend before you dropped off the face of the earth" and that stung a little.
Quite a bit - much like an icicle through his heart for a moment there really, but then Castiel was suddenly at his side with a hand on Dean's shoulder and a forced smile and a wide inviting gesture for Gerard to come in.
It was like déjà vu to two weeks ago as they led him into the sitting room. He chose the high-backed armchair without prompting, and settled himself down leisurely. A few moments later, Stiles and Jackson brought in a try of teas and biscuits.
Gerard was all smiles, a perfectly gracious guest. He was a well oiled machine of social politeness, even when Peter and Derek brazenly walked in the room and sat on the sofa across from him. If there were eggshells on the floor they would have been crushed to dust. He beamed at them "Ah the young alpha and his patriarch, lovely home you have Hales. And especially well trained betas, from what I've seen of course."
Derek had to choke back a deep growl that longed to rip out from his chest – Jackson may be a Beta, but as his Mate Stiles was one of the Alpha Pair, hearing him referred to below his rank felt like a slap across the face. Of course though his restraint was effective, the look on his face betrayed him and his anger didn't go unnoticed. Gerard quirked an eyebrow
"Hmm. Well I'll be frank Alpha Hale, I am here to destroy the Kanima. Though many would consider your kind an abomination, you and yours are at least sentient and nonviolent. The same cannot be said for the beast. It has killed and it will kill again. If you surrender it, we will take it off of your hands and leave peaceably." His words were still laced with cheery grins and jaunty hand gestures, and Dean wondered to himself how long he had had to practice those to make them perfect.
Peter cleared his throat delicately "If you'll allow me to speak for my Alpha, I would be glad to inform you that the Kanima has already been taken care of. What causes the mutation is a deep emotional block. The Angel Castiel, our pack's good friend and Dean Winchester's husband, helped cure the beast. He now runs as a wolf in our pack. The Kanima is no more." There was silence but for the gentle clinking of a spoon on china, slowly stirring a cup of tea.
Gerard smiled into his cup and took a long sip, tongue poking out slightly as he lowered the cup back onto its saucer. Mouth turned down at one corner, his eyes spoke volumes of grandfatherly disappointment "As you lay dying, I'd like you to remember that in this moment you denied the mercy you were offered" and in a flash he was standing; his gun was out and there were three bullets in Derek's chest and another two in Peter's. Stiles' and the betas' screams rang out from the kitchen, hearing the attack and feeling blazing pain and rage through the pack bonds.
Gerard cocked his head towards the other room "Well doesn't this all just keep getting curiouser and curiouser," his smile dissolved from his face "No matter, you all die today" and he stormed out of the living room and out of the house.
Dean and Castiel were shellshocked for a moment, and Stiles ran in, falling to his knees at Derek's feet, the rest of the pack close on his heels. The sitting room stunk of fear, and it stayed even as the bullets pushed out of their entry wounds. The two drew ragged breaths, and the moment he began to heal, Derek perked up and fell back into leadership mode
"We have to get everyone out. Now. If Gerard left it means that they're planning an attack that'll effect everyone in here. They might be explosives or gas or fire" He and Peter locked eyes and shuddered. Taking no extra time, they rose to their feet and gathered everyone to herd them out the back door.
They had only barely moved quickly enough as it was, and the house burst into flames behind them the moment after the last of wolf crossed the threshold into the open forest. Derek sank to his knees in the dirt, staring up at his home burning once again.
Stiles grabbed his shoulder and tried to pull him up, failing. He pushed and pushed his lover, turning his head to face him "Everyone you love is here, and alive and okay, but right now we've gotta go. We didn't plan for this; we have to run from here before they find us."
Wolf ears popped up on the top of Derek's head and he pressed his nose into Stiles' belly, breathing deeply for a moment and wrapping his arms around his waist. Then in a flash he was up, moving from beta to beta and then to their hunter allies, checking for injuries.
He was about to shift his face back to normal, but then stopped himself "Wolves, bring out your ears and nose. We're going to start moving as far from here as we can and we need as many advantages as we can get. Be alert. Constantly. When we face these bastards it's going to be on our terms, but for now we need to get away,"
He took his mate's hand and pressed his lips to it "You lead and I'll guard." They shared an embrace, and then separated. Stiles jogged to the front of the pack and began giving tactical orders, and then took off, wolves and hunters and family and Derek behind him. And they followed, trusting him implicitly.
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Stiles panted heavily, conflict had run heavy through his mind about the safety in returning to the old hunting cabin deep in the woods. There was always a chance that the hunters would know intimate details of the terrain, but this was mostly a Hale family secret, little and secluded and private, and in the end that was where he found himself leading the pack.
Just that thought brought him a rush of joy and pride; he knew Derek loved him and respected his opinions, but the value he laid upon Stiles' judgment always felt intimate and beautiful, and he treasured it.
The real growth of the pack may have only started a week ago, but it was still a pack that he had been subconsciously a member of since before he even knew about wolves, it was more a part of him than almost anything else in his life. Having useful pack-related skills and responsibilities made him feel like maybe, finally, he was proving that he could take care of his lover. That he could be the hero.
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Guerilla warfare was in full effect, and they had been running assaults on the hunter base for hours, all at random times and with new combinations of pack members. Every time they attacked several were struck like lightning and they got out almost before anyone even knew they had been there at all.
Sam, Dean, Bobby, and Stiles had set up sniping blinds in the surrounding wilderness and were working on building up a slower body count, hitting far enough in between so as to not make their locations apparent. Slowly but surely the hunter forces were dwindling; their army of twenty was down to eight, and morale on their side was rapidly becoming nonexistent.
But they still had no idea what Gerard had up his sleeve – he was letting his men be shot down like fish in a barrel. The likelihood that they weren't already knee-deep in whatever trap he had planned was unfavorably low. Every one of them knew it to be true, and though their barrages of the hunter base were wild and courageous, fear plagued the depths of their hearts.
They were almost invisible as they made their way through the forest, absolutely silent, body movements flowing like liquid metal, strong and graceful and completely alert, and fast. Derek and Peter led all of the betas in for a final assault.
They were going in as one and they were taking out all of them. This was going to end on their terms. They drew closer and closer to the clearing; 100 yards, 50, 10, and then they pounced. As one they attacked, each wolf ripping into the neck of a hunter, except for Derek. The instant he moved towards Gerard, the old man fired. Time seemed to slow, he could see the bullets flying toward his chest, coming so close, too close, there was no way he'd be able to get out of the way.
And then he was being tugged out of the way and spun around, he fell unceremoniously on his ass, looking up into his Uncle's face.
Peter smiled at him and blinked rapidly, a trail of blood starting to drip from the corner of his mouth. In a flash he had spun back around to face Gerard "You really think I'm going to let you harm a hair on his head? You may think you're old, but you're like a child to me, a foolish ignorant child. You couldn't learn to be a decent human being if you tried, it's the people like you that make our species enemies." And three more gunshots rang through the air, bringing everthing to a halt.
This time when Peter fell he didn't get back up. Derek crawled over to where he lay, pulling him into his lap and pressing his hands over Peter's back, fingers tracing over the bullet holes and the smoke rising from the entry wounds – it was wolfsbane, of course it was wolfsbane. He felt his rage overtake him. Peter's heartbeat was so slow, so faint that he could barely hear it.
As Gerard stepped nearer, Derek felt his hands shaking. The patronizing grin on his face made him want to do so much worse than rip his face off. The old man let out a vicious bark of laughter and stomped his foot down onto Peter's chest
"Oh look at that angry little wolfy face of yours. I bet you thought your patriarch was immortal. Newsflash boy, everything dies. Some things take a little more effort, but All. Things. Die. Things never would have gotten to this point had you given me the Kanima. This is your fault. Your Uncle's death is your fault, and when I shoot your handsome little mate, it's going to be your fault too" he cackled, and never had he sounded more insane.
Derek felt his fangs elongating and with a shake of his head he was in his beta form. The moment he shifted everything changed, and he was so startled that it took him a moment to try and cover his surprise, because he heard it not so faintly as it had been - Peter's heartbeat.
Once again Gerard saw through the emotion he had tried desperately to hide, and glanced down, feeling Peter's chest move with the force of an inhalation of breath "No, no I KILLED YOU, WOLF" Peter's grin was feral and the old man panicked, scrambling backwards and reaching for his great cleaving sword.
But Peter was faster, darting forward on his belly and grabbing Gerard's ankle, pulling him to the ground and breaking his leg. A muffled scream erupted from his chest and he struggled to get away. In an instant he was on his feet, dragging Gerard to the edge of the clearing by his broken leg, stringing him upside down in one of the trees.
He reached for the handgun in the old man's jacket, making sure to jostle his body as much as possible, relishing in the small groans that escaped from his prisoner. He pocketed several bullets for later on, and called everyone into the clearing. They gathered round and he smileed gently "I hope I didn't worry you all too much. This is our oppressor, the man that tried to decimate our pack on a whim and some misinformation. Now this man is particularly famous for a certain style of werewolf execution, can anyone tell me what he does?"
"He cuts them in half while they're upside down so that their entrails spill out onto the ground" Erica called out.
Peter's grin was wild and deadly "That's a smart girl. They cut them in half. While they're upside down. Now can anyone guess what this monster's sentence is going to be?" He looked around at the pack, eyebrows raised and head cocked at a jaunty angle.
Identical grins spread across the wolves' faces, and though the humans seemed uneasy they made no protest. Stiles stepped forward, looking the epitome of furious "We're gonna cut this bastard to pieces, and no one's ever going to see or hear from him ever again. It's going to be a bloodbath really, because let's be honest, he deserves it. His remains will be salted and burned, and the ashes spread. When his family asks we'll tell them that there's no body, and they won't care because they wanted him dead almost more than we did" he stepped closer to the man, still wriggling in his prone position
"You know, they came to see us. They told us you were coming. They knew we were going to kill you. They gave us their blessing. They won't care that you're dead, you'll just be the crazy old zealot that they ended up not having to waste a mercybullet on" he was starting to get worked up, and Derek grabbed his shoulders, moving for the first time since Peter had been shot, pulling his mate backwards into his chest, wrapping his arms around him. He dragged them back a few feet and nodded at Peter.
With an air of pure and justified authority, he picked up the heavy blade "I hope this hurts so fucking bad" he whispered, and ran the saber ran through Gerard's torso, ripping a jagged cut across it, sending his head and upper chest crashing to the ground. As his body was rended in half, his screams rang out and it took a moment after for the life to fade from him completely.
It was the most disgusting bloody mess imaginable, but none of them spoke. Pools of gore splashed on the forest floor and the spray had hit them all at face height, leaving splatters. Gerard's lifeless body was swimming in its own fluids. And then he was dead, and it didn't feel glorious or righteous or wonderful, it just felt like they had a gruesome mass-murder scene to clean up. A really, really sticky one.
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Derek kept Stiles in his arms holding onto him and sobbing into his shoulder loudly, not bothering to hide his tears or his emotions, fraying at the seams and needing his anchor now more than ever. Everyone avoided them as they crept off to a secluded area just outside the edge of the clearing, and sat heavily as one upon a fallen stump, crying together, foreheads pressed together, hands holding fast.
Stiles rasped out a wet gasp of breath "I saw him raise his gun towards you and I felt my world collapsing around me. And then now I hate myself for being glad that Peter took those bullets for you. I'm so glad that he did and I hate myself for it. How can I ever look him in the eye again?"
"You don't have to worry about that, Stiles" came Peter's soft voice. He melted out of the trees and sat with them on the stump, laying his hand on top of his nephew's shoulder "I remember what having a mate feels like. If Nessa were still alive and our situations were reversed, I'd feel the exact same way"
Stiles seemed lost for words, and lurched forward to engulf Peter in a crushing hug. Derek pressed his hand into Peter's back, as if to remind himself that the bullet wounds were real and that they were his fault, all his fault.
He tried to hold it back in, but it exploded forth from him like his earlier rush of uncontrollable emotion "Why did you take the bullets for me? I can't- I mean I would understand if it were Scott, he's like your son. But I'm your alpha; it's my job to protect all of you. I would have healed from those wounds better and…I thought you were dead, Peter. I thought…" his head fell to his hands and he missed the shocked heartbroken look on his uncle's face.
Stiles made to leave but they both gestured for him to stay, and so he sat by Derek's feet with his head on his knee, gently stroking his leg. Peter sighed heavily while Derek sniffed and tried to calm himself "I can't believe I'm asking you this but, why would you think that I see Scott as a son and not you, Derek? What could have possibly put that horrid thought into your head? Was it something I did, some way that I treated you? Did I treat you differently and not even realize?" Derek took in a gasp of air so fast it became a hiccup and he had to pause for a moment. Stiles kept rubbing his leg and Peter waited patiently.
He ran his hands through his hair, and then rested them on top of his mate's head, sighing deeply "When we escaped the fire I was twenty years old. Even though I was still a child by our customs and anatomy, in the world surrounding us I was an adult, and I started to see myself as one. Scott was still a baby, you raised him from infancy. He probably sees you more as a dad than anything else, even if he calls you uncle. But I guess I never stopped seeing myself as your nephew. I didn't know I was allowed to. I didn't want to act like I was trying to replace the pups you lost" He looked up into Peter's face.
Tears streamed thickly down it and snot was beginning to run from his nose, he inhaled deeply and placed a hand to his chest "I can't believe I failed you so badly as a guardian. My one job was to make you feel unconditionally loved and I didn't even come close did I? I always saw you as my own but apparently I didn't show it enough to get the message across"
Derek felt Stiles tugging at his pantslegs, and he turned his attention to him. His voice was timid and melancholic when he asked "Is this my fault?"
Derek's eyebrows shot up, "What-"
"When I was little. In kindergarten and all through elementary, you were always there. During school, after school, even while I was playing with Scott. Did raising me make you forget that you were still a kid yourself?"
Derek was floored. He had found his mate so early in his life, and had let the boy become his entire world. He would never regret it, but maybe it had done things to his mental state that he never could have predicted.
He ran his hands over his mate's buzzcut "Just because that may be so doesn't mean you aren't still the best thing that's ever happened to me. I still had Peter and Scott, but it was you that healed me after I lost almost everything. Maybe that changed how I saw the world, but having you in my life could never be something that caused me harm" Derek looked down at the ground and smiled, mind flashing with images from the many years of Stiles' childhood they had spent together.
He sighed and called the betas from the clearing. They came hesitantly and gathered around the stump, and he looked them over "I'm proud of every single one of you. We faced an enemy today that threatened to break our pack, and we defeated it. And I have something to tell you all."
"These few weeks have been hectic. Traumatic and horrific and violent and bloody. You need to know that that's not how this pack normally runs. We live a peaceful life in these woods, and these woods will always be home to us. The fire that devastated our house was tragic, but we will rebuild. There will always be a place for you in our home if you need it."
And they all sat together in the woods, and they talked about the past and the future and their dreams, and in that afternoon, in that hour, they became a true pack. They learned to care for one another and more importantly they learned to trust one another. They had faced threat of death and trauma and anguish together.
The sun shone brightly through the trees, every leaf and branch dappled with gold. If they listened hard enough they could hear the stream trickle a few miles away, and at one point a deer came to it and drank.
When they returned to the house they found that the fire had been put out long before it could do more than some surface damage. And when the house was almost entirely unscathed, they had an inkling that there was a certain pair of angels deserving of thanks. They wouldn't have to rebuild much after all. It took a while, but the house once again rang with happy shouts and laughter.
They were safe and they were a family. Things were looking up.