Since I'm back to posting relatively quickly, here's a friendly reminder that I don't have a beta reader and cringey mistakes are to be expected. If you find glaring erros, leave me a comment and I'll fix them.


Chapter 47

"I can't believe we're doing this," Isaac whispered in a hushed voice. He had a hand on Stiles' shoulder and squeezed tightly.

Stiles grasped the other boy's hand and returned the squeeze in equal measure. His eyes were glued to the screen of his laptop, where their Etsy page was waiting to go online. It was somehow quaint and yet so right to do this in his kitchen, with his father, Derek, and Peter present. They'd made an opulent brunch out of it, even going as far as sipping sparkling wine - in the teens' case it really was just a sip. "Me neither."

"Did we really cross all the ts and dot the is?" Derek rumbled over Stiles' other shoulder. Even he was nervous, and he'd been holding it together better than the rest of them put together. "No mistakes in the product descriptions? The prices are not too high?"

"Do you really want to call your shop 'Lil' Red Badass'?" John asked, somewhat amused. He sat across from them at the Stilinski kitchen table, his newspaper open in front of him.

"Isaac did that picture, and I do have a red hoodie, and we all liked it," Stiles said defensively. At his father's raised eyebrow he amended, "Okay, so Isaac and I liked it, but Peter snorted scotch when we told him and Derek didn't argue, so that's their own damn fault." Stricken, he looked around at Derek. "Or do you want to change it?"

"No, Stiles," Derek said patiently.

"And you?" Isaac asked Peter, who was leaning against the kitchen counter and nursing a third cup of his sinfully good Vietnamese coffee.

"Why argue against such a fitting moniker?" the werewolf countered, an entertained smile lighting up his features.

"Alright then," Stiles murmured and took a deep breath. "Last chance."

Nobody said anything and after another moment of hesitation, Stiles clicked the button.

"Well," Isaac said. "That was anticlimactic."

"Speak for yourself. I'm sweating like crazy," Stiles complained and demonstratively wiped his palms on his pants. He opened their profile and checked their listings again. Choosing the page for the gentle healing die, he said, "By the way, did we ever talk about failsafes?"

"Not that I recall," Peter said. "Although I had planned that talk for later, once the shop has gained something of a customer base."

Derek left his place at Stiles' shoulder and sat down. "Why do you ask?"

"Because it just occurred to me that everybody's able to order from us," Stiles answered. "Even hunters. We wouldn't even know, because who in this community uses their real name when they're buying occult shit?"

"Language, kid," Stiles' father admonished, nose already back in his newspaper.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm watching it. What I mean is, once we're known in the community it's only a matter of time until the bad guys will try to cash in on it," Stiles continued. "I don't want assholes to use our healing stuff, or even the good luck charms. Therefore, failsafes."

"Your magic does seem to be largely intent based," Peter said calmly. "Why not build in a hidden feature, so to speak?"

"I could, and I might have done that already," Stiles admitted, "but I have no way of testing whether it'll work. But I need it to work, or I won't be able to sleep at night."

"Understandable, sweetheart," Peter soothed him. "I'll find a way for you to test it out."

"Already testing the boundaries, Hale?" John asked, flipping down the newspaper and levelling a look at Peter.

"It's all very hands-off, I assure you," Peter smirked. He pushed away from the counter. "I'm off for training. Isaac, you're with me."

Without protest Isaac left Stiles' side, taking up position by his alpha.

Peter affectionately nudged the boy's shoulder with his. "If that's alright with you, John, I'd like to send Isaac back here later. The kids will need to pick out furniture for the workshop anyway and I don't want either of them to be alone when I go patrolling tonight."

"Isaac's always welcome here," the sheriff said. "Is there any way you could warn me if you're about to do something drastic?"

"It'd require you to carry a burner phone and be prepared to lie about it," Peter said unapologetically. "If you can do that, I'll make it happen. If that conflicts with your morals, it's better you do not know what's going on."

The sheriff looked at him for a long moment, weighing the ramifications. At last he said, "I'll take the phone, thank you."

Nodding once, Peter led Isaac out the backdoor.

"Thanks, dad," Stiles murmured, hunching up his shoulders a little. "I know that this sucks rocks for you."

His father put his paper down completely, giving Stiles all of his attention. "You know what? It doesn't suck as much as I'd have thought. Hale's solutions are a little drastic, sure, but in his own way he's just doing what law enforcement is also trying to do. And considering how aggressive the Locos were, his response was appropriate. Keener and Beyers would've had cause to shoot their attackers in self-defence, had they had the opportunity. As it stands, Hale saved both their lives and no one at the station is going to ask too many questions about that bear who came to their rescue."

"He'll try to be as discreet as possible," Derek said quietly.

"That might not be enough, though. You will help him if things should go FUBAR, right?" Stiles asked anxiously.

"Well, I can't get in the way of solid evidence, like surveillance cameras or smartphone videos," the sheriff replied evenly. "But I'm prepared to lie and obfuscate when it comes to eyewitness reports. That'll have to be enough if I want to keep my job." He looked meaningfully at both his son and Derek. "Which is in all our best interest I do."

"Yep, it sure is," Stiles said promptly, closing his laptop with a sharp little tap. "So, what are we gonna do now, Sourwolf? I've decided that sitting around and staring at the mailbox is out."

"Why don't you use all that beautiful free time and invent a stealth talisman for Hale?" his father asked sarcastically. "That would probably save us a boatload of trouble."

Stiles stared at him, then at Derek, and then back at his father.

"Grab your stuff, we're going to Peter's," Derek said. He efficiently collected the used dishes and cutlery.

"That was a joke," John protested. "Hale doesn't need a stealth talisman!"

Stiles was already racing up the stairs. "Bye, pops! Isaac and I'll be back for dinner!"

oOo

"You're the perfect guinea pig," Stiles told Derek. They'd set up camp in Peter's loft because it had furniture and cold drinks, as well as all the books Stiles might need in addition to his own notes. There also was the Argent scroll of financial absolution waiting, but Stiles was ignoring its presence resolutely. "Unlike Isaac, you know how to keep still."

"He's ticklish," Derek said. He waited patiently until Stiles was done drawing runes on his forearm and then inspected the work closely. "What do those runes mean?"

Stiles took a much needed drink of water. "Well, runes sort of have layers, so a rune can have a certain meaning for health issues, but also mean something completely different for wealth, or power, or spirituality. In this instance, I chose raido for the journey you want to take. It also stands for the right path, cosmic order, movement, and dance. All useful if one needs to go somewhere for a specific purpose. Next is naudiz. It's not commonly associated with stealth, but it does stand for disruption, in our case the disruption of the perception of potential witnesses, and the development of great power against opposition. In short, if someone's on their guard, naudiz will use that energy to strengthen our spell. Then we have iwaz, which stands for protection, stamina, and liminal experiences. I thought it might help if Peter sort of moved through the shadows of reality so he wouldn't trip security features or alert guards. It's a literal interpretation, but so what. Magic will make it happen."

"That seems incredible, and there are so many of them. Are you sure they're not cancelling each other out?" Derek questioned. He traced pertho, which Stiles had chosen for its meaning of 'the secret', and got a little magical pinch for his efforts. "Ow, they're mean."

"Nah, they're just trying to protect themselves from smushing," Stiles smirked. "Of course there's algiz; it's the universal protector, in this case against discovery, and our high speed connection to the gods. It's also sort of my failsafe because Peter, or whoever uses this, had better have a good reason for sneaking around, or this camouflage will fail. In fact, I've used almost the whole alphabet," Stiles gestured at the almost completely covered arm, "but I cherry-picked the meanings I needed for this particular spell to work."

"It'd be impractical to always draw all that on someone," Derek observed. "Will you make it into a bind runde?"

"I'll have to," Stiles said. "But it's gonna work out. I already have an idea on how to deal with the design part. After that I'll make it into a stamp for short term talismans, and maybe invest in a branding iron for wood branding. It'll be great, you'll see."

Derek's eyes were firmly on Stiles. "I trust you." He got up. "We should go and test it out. The preserve would be ideal because of all the wildlife. The animals usually scatter as soon as someone runs through, so we'll know immediately whether it works or not."

"I'd thought the mall, but whatever floats your boat. Just don't expect me to run today, 'kay?" Stiles snapped a few pictures of his notes and Derek's arm, threw a writing pad, a byro, and a packet of sharpies into his backpack and filled the rest of the space with a couple bottles of water. "We're taking the jeep."

"Of course we are, now that she's as good as new," Derek retorted smugly.

They set off and made good time to the edge of the preserve, despite the families and kiddie groups also heading there for some time on the adventure trail. While they could've driven to the house, Stiles didn't mind the trek in the fantastic summer weather, especially when they didn't have a time limit.

"Let's go this way," Derek suggested, pointing away from the popular path into the forest. "My family's house is over there, although we don't have to go there if you don't want to. I know that you hate it."

"Do you want to go there?" Stiles asked as he locked up the car. "I'd thought the place would be considered tainted after what The Bitch did."

"It is, but I still grew up there." Derek pressed his lips together. "Sometimes, after the rain, I think I can still catch my family's scents."

That was the saddest thing Stiles had heard in a long time. He sincerely hoped that Kate Argent's ripped off head had been eaten by martens, or better yet, crushed by wild boars. And that her soul burned in hell for eternity.

"If that's what you want, sure," he said out loud, all pleasant and mellow. Stiles probably didn't fool Derek for a second, but the werewolf said nothing, just started to walk into the preserve with single-minded determination.

After a while, Stiles panted, "You know, we should've thought this through better. Unlike you, I'm not in stealth mode so the animals are still getting quiet around us."

"I know. When we're at the house you can rest and I'll roam around a bit to check it out. You'll be able to hear their activity well enough from a distance."

Stiles threw an arm around Derek's shoulders and let the man tow him along for a bit. "Sounds like a plan, dude."

Only a few dozen yards further Derek suddenly stopped in his tracks. "Someone's out there." He caught the breeze and sniffed intently. At once his face closed off and he scowled fiercely. "Deaton."

"What's he doing here?" Stiles hissed. "We're close to your family's property, right?"

Derek shifted in front of Stiles, nearly completely covering him. A moment later, Deaton stepped around a large tree trunk, face as placid as ever.

"Mr. Stilinski … and Mr. Hale. I thought I'd heard voices. What a surprise." Deaton eyed Derek weirdly, like he couldn't completely grasp his presence.

"Is it?" Derek asked menacingly. "You're nearly on Hale land. Why?"

"Only nearly," Deaton replied, looking around unhurriedly and then patting the wicker basket he was carrying. "There are a lot of useful herbs to be found here." His eyes came back to rest on Stiles. "I'm making supplemental herbal medicines for your friend Scott, Mr. Stilinski. Maybe you've heard that conditions in the juvenile detention center aren't optimal for his health."

"I did," Stiles answered, voice tight with anger at the blatant provocation. "Maybe in the future Scott will think twice before doing something stupid that'll land him there again."

"I'm sure he's full of regret for what the Argent family persuaded him into doing," Deaton said smoothly. "I'll certainly make it known at the hearing in two weeks. Gentlemen."

Deaton passed them with a healthy distance between himself and the growling werewolf by Stiles' side and was soon lost among the trees and the shrubbery.

"I'd totally forgotten about him," Stiles said, staring after the man. "Do you think he was trespassing?"

"It's likely." Derek still sounded a little growly and looked a lot pissed off. His glowing blue eyes were nearly lasering their surroundings, they were so bright. "My mother put a lot of effort into maintaining a diverse herb garden, both for cooking and for healing. Peter with his magic affinity helped a lot at making the plants flourish. We were sort of known for it. That's why we enjoyed such good relationships with our neighbouring packs and other supernaturals."

"A herb garden is a good idea," Stiles admitted, "but I don't see how we could take care of it. Even with Erica and Boyd on board, we'd all be too busy."

Derek finally calmed himself enough to blink away the light in his eyes. "Well, once we got it up and running, the fae took over, for a share of the harvest. It was good. We used the raw material to trade for potions and things like that. Everyone was content."

"Do you think the fae are still around?" Stiles asked, spinning around and looking intently for sprites.

"I don't know." Derek grabbed Stiles by the strap of his backpack and pulled him along. "We could find out over the summer."

"Our yard is probably out," Stiles huffed. "Too many nosy neighbours, and we don't have a lot of space. Your land would be perfect, but without wards creeps like Deaton could show up and steal everything. I'd rather drink bleach than allow that to happen."

"Maybe you'll find a way to ward at least the garden itself, if not our territory as a whole," Derek said. A bit quieter he confessed, "I'd like to try and rescue it."

"Man, you do whatever you want!" Stiles grabbed Derek's arm in an awkward hug to lessen the strain on his backpack. "The shop's probably not gonna do anything for a while yet, and Isaac and I won't be running around all the time. If you wanna come here, have fun. It's not like you're hurting for money now and can plant whatever you like."

Derek made a surprised sound, like he had totally forgotten that the Argents had offered him around seven million dollars in damages. "You're right, I do … once Peter finally gets around to signing it. Are you certain? Gardening is time consuming."

"Well, I'd hate to die at the hands of some locust wolf, but as long as you make time to play bodyguard, I'm totally good with it."

"Deal," Derek said quickly. He slowed a little and threw Stiles a worried look. "You will try and ward the area around the ruin?"

"'course I will," Stiles said, thoughts already gearing up for a mighty spin.

Only a few minutes later they finally reached the burned out husk of a house. While everything was green now, it still looked desolate. Among all the overgrowth, Stiles couldn't even begin to guess where the fabled garden once might have been.

"The kitchen herbs were growing all around the house," Derek explained. "Right along the walls, a yard and a half out. And a bit further out we had a pumpkin patch, a few apple and pear trees, berry bushes, and whatever else my mom could successfully plant." He smiled lopsidedly. "With our appetite, it was a must to supplement the grocery shopping, or the people in town would've become suspicious."

"And the healing stuff? I'm guessing you had quite a few strains of wolfsbane on the premise," Stiles asked.

"We did, yes. My mom grew those plants in a closed off area far away from the playground, so the kids wouldn't accidentally poison themselves. Peter warded it, actually."

"I didn't know he was that good at magic," Stiles said, surprised. Then he was annoyed that he was surprised because it wasn't like Peter had ever made it a secret that he liked to practice the craft.

Derek shrugged. "He could do rituals really well, bespeak things and stuff. But he can't do what you can do, especially not on the fly. My mom used to joke that Peter should've been born human so he could make the most of his potential. He'd have made an outstanding emissary."

"Did he ever say he regretted being a werewolf?" Stiles sat on the porch and looked up at Derek. "Like, did he want to find a way to lose his wolf?"

"No, never," Derek replied. He looked around and listened carefully for a moment. "At most he wished that he were better at doing magic, but he never resented his nature."

"That's good," Stiles said decisively. "You lot have me now, and I'd rather not take someone's wolf away again if I don't have to. Not even if they ask."

"There might come a time where you have to."

Stiles exhaled. "I know. I'll do it if there's no other choice, but I just can't imagine it for someone born that way. They'd have to have very good reasons."

"Yes," Derek agreed. "It's a huge responsibility, but word will get out. I didn't like how Deaton was looking at you ... he definitely knows what happened to Scott. You might want to prepare yourself for callers. Get stringent contracts ready, decide on an exorbitant price, that sort of thing. It's politics more than trade, with things like this. Refusing outright would only breed resentment and endanger the pack."

"Fuck." Stiles put his face in his hands. "Sometimes I can't with all the weirdness."

"To be fair, it might mostly be hunters who want to cripple us," Derek went on. "Which is a very good reason not to offer it as a service at all but like I said, if Deaton knows, others will know."

"He was looking at you a little funny," Stiles griped. "Do we need to vanish him before he gets to us first?"

"Peter wouldn't lose any sleep over it," Derek replied slowly. "Unfortunately, Deaton hasn't done anything, yet, except being exceptionally useless in a crisis."

"Not to mention a thief," Stiles muttered. "That'll stop. And I think I know how. Why don't you go on your prowl while I do some research?"

Derek immediately loped off, ready for some action, and Stiles got out his writing utensils and began to scribble down questions and ideas like mad. He'd need the others to help but figured that they'd actually be glad to be so intimately involved in the creation of their new wards.

Stiles worked for over an hour and only resurfaced when Derek reappeared before him. His shirt was wet with sweat and he looked very satisfied with himself.

"The animals didn't notice me, not even when I openly went after them," the werewolf reported. "We'll need more tests, but in the preserve your spell seems to work fine."

"Great!" Stiles said. He lobbed one of the water bottles at Derek. "I got a good head start, too. We should all have dinner at mine tonight and talk about it. Sound good?"

"Yes, sounds good," Derek agreed.

"Then let's go, we deserve some ice cream before we're tracking down the others." He jumped up, only to stop dead in his tracks. "On second thought, let's not go right now. Since I'm already here, why don't you give me a moment to ward the house against any more intruders? The poor thing must be so fed up with being invaded by assholes."

"Houses are not people," Derek stated dryly. "And there isn't much to salvage, anyway."

"It's still important to you and Peter and deserves to be treated with respect," Stiles countered, uncapping his sharpie and quickly drawing several runes on the porch. "Five minutes and your family's ghosts will have some peace. Then, ice cream. At least three scoops each, my treat."

Derek didn't argue again and he walked very closely by Stiles' side the whole way back to the jeep.


End of chapter 47