Wohoooo! You guys! We made it to chapter 50! When I started this fic I really couldn't imagine what an exercise in world building this would become, but I love it. Even better, you love it too! 3 If that's not a reason to celebrate, I don't know what is, haha. It's even a special episode because so much stuff is happening. I hope you'll have fun reading!
Chapter 50
Through lucky circumstances, Stiles was even able to convince his father to come to Peter's in the early evening. Sure, there was the promise of the best pizza Beacon Hills had to offer involved, but mostly the sheriff felt he deserved a break after interrogating the two Lobos members all afternoon.
"You look satisfied; I take it the questioning went well?" Peter asked as he handed John a non-alcoholic beer.
"So far they've sung like canaries," Stiles' father replied rather smugly. "Whatever Stiles painted on them made them almost eager to share … we're not complaining. We're getting exactly what we need from them for a huge sting operation. Not just here, but everywhere they've got pockets of their group stationed."
"You said they're organized in groups," Derek interjected. "You'll need more of them to take them out all at once."
"That's in part why I'm here," John admitted. He took a sip of his beer and turned to his son. "Stiles, I know that this is pretty far out there, but we all know that only your magic mojo has made them talk their ugly heads off. I can't have you in danger again, but maybe you can teach me how to do what you did today."
Stiles shared a wide-eyed look with first Isaac and then Peter. "Uhm, actually …" He stopped, a little stunned, and wrung his hands.
"Yes?" the sheriff prompted. "What is it?"
"It is something we've discussed just a couple of hours ago," Peter explained. "Stiles proposed that we find out whether we might share his magic via the drawing of runes and other magical symbols. I'm not usually a great believer in cosmic signs, but if the both of you reach the same conclusion independent of each other, it might be more than a somewhat ambitious fancy."
"Well, I already know that my dad can handle the healing dice," Stiles said, still somewhat overwhelmed. "So theoretically he should be able to activate runes. What if …"
Derek sighed and assisted Stiles in the haphazard rummaging through his backpack by simply overturning it so everything fell out.
Triumphant, Stiles picked up his sharpie. "A-ha! Now, what if the runes you all are gonna paint are really mine? I mean, they sort of are, since most of you aren't the sort of magic user I am. I think. Who knows what we'll uncover next, but anyway. What if the runes are really mine and you're just painting them on my orders? That sounds stupid, but I'm an alpha, and your sort of emissary too, and I could, theoretically, give you all the standing order to use any rune that will help you achieve our mutual goals. Right?"
"I'd feel compelled to listen to that order," Isaac admitted after a long moment. "Not in the wolf way, but the pack way. It's a little weird."
"Me, definitely," Derek added. He grasped his empty wrist where his bracelet had sat before the skunk sap had made it impossible to wear.
"And I'm definitely below Stiles in the hierarchy of magic users in our pack, so I'd feel comfortable taking orders of that nature," Peter finished. He smiled slyly at the sheriff. "This day is just getting better and better on the history making front, wouldn't you say, John?"
"Why? What else are you up to?" the sheriff asked suspiciously.
"I get Lou back!" Stiles crowed. He finished painting the runes his father would need to make his suspects talk and slid the piece of paper over to him.
"Lou?" his father asked, perplexed.
"Scott's wolf spirit," Stiles answered impatiently. "I told you that he went to Peter to help with the healing, but now I can have him back. Yay!"
"I think I need to sit down for a moment …"
Isaac assisted the sheriff into a chair and hovered for a few seconds to make sure he wouldn't slide off in a faint.
John waved him off, though not with a grateful pat to the arm. "Are you sure that you want that?"
"Him," Stiles interrupted him stubbornly.
"Him, then," his father amended. "It changed Scott a lot, and not for the better. I'd hate for that to happen to you, too."
"It won't. First of all, I won't really turn into a werewolf, I'll just have a wolf spirit with me. Permanently, I hope. That's not the same thing. And second of all, we have it all figured out. How to hide him when necessary, I mean. If I really can't have him with me for one reason or another, he can easily stay with one of the wolves since we already know that it works."
"That's …" For a moment it didn't seem certain which adjective the sheriff would use, but then he settled on, "amazing." He grasped Stiles' hand and squeezed it tightly. "I know that this is what you want, and I'm glad that you're happy, but can I say that I'm thankful that you won't actually turn?"
"You can," Stiles said softly. "I rather feel like I got the cake and get to eat it too right now. I wish nothing of the bad stuff had happened, but I'm happy that something so awesome came out of it. Lou is great, you'll love him, dad."
"Then when will I get to see him?" his father asked. His voice was a little scratchy with emotion, but otherwise he seemed settled enough to rule out an imminent heart attack.
"Right now, if everyone's in agreement," Peter said. After everyone's nod, and after Isaac had started to record with his digicam, Peter took Stiles' hand in his, turned it over - and pressed a kiss to the teen's palm.
Stiles sucked in a sharp breath, first at the unexpected feel of warm lips against his skin, and then at the inky blackness rapidly pooling in his palm and streaking out all over his arm.
"Holy shit!" the sheriff exclaimed. "What is that?"
"Mountain ash," Stiles answered breathlessly. There was a tingle where Peter touched him, and it rapidly grew in intensity. Far too soon it reached a peak and all Stiles could do was flush and let out an indecent, "Oh!"
"Mmh, quite." Peter slowly lowered Stiles' hand and smiled sharply. "All done."
"I … wow. That was …" Stiles stared at Peter, uncertain whether he was hyped up on magic or arousal. It probably was the same thing, which wasn't something he was ready to analyze anytime soon.
"That sure was something," his father said dryly. "You're really toeing the line here, Hale."
"A man must have some entertainment in these trying times," Peter replied wickedly.
Stiles decided to ignore his mortification and instead reverently watched the spirit-driven mountain ash wander over his skin, curling and writhing like it was looking for the perfect place to settle. "Hey Lou, wanna say hello to my dad?"
The writhing stopped at once and the blackness slowly amassed on Stiles' outstretched right arm. First Stiles' hand looked like it was encased in a glove, but then the mountain ash slowly morphed to form a vaguely distinguishable wolf head right there in the air, complete with snout and ears.
"I … what." Speechless, the sheriff stared at the spectacle. "How do you …"
"You probably don't remember clearly, but I managed to tear Lou from Scott by throwing mountain ash at him and wishing like mad that Scott wouldn't be a werewolf anymore," Stiles said. He smiled when a black tongue reached out to carefully lick his father's fingers. "Well, and after the separation Lou went straight to me, mountain ash and all."
Carefully, John cupped the wolf head with his hand and petted it. "That was a good choice. Amazing, he feels almost solid." A smile slowly spread over his face. "And he's a good boy, isn't he?"
Lou sort of lurched forward and playfully nipped on the sheriff's hand.
"A very good boy," Stiles laughed, joining his dad in petting his wolf spark. After a moment he sobered again. "He'll never let me forget how much I hated Scott that night for what he tried to do to Peter. And what he did to you."
Lou receded as Stiles hunched up his shoulders and curled protectively around Stiles' shoulders and neck.
With a slight gesture, Peter motioned for Isaac to stop filming. "Some things should neither be forgiven, nor forgotten. It's alright to carry grudges with you; they'll protect you from making the same mistake twice."
"Hopefully." Stiles looked his father in the eye. "I love Melissa, I do, but Scott no longer exists for me."
"He'll spend a lot of time behind bars," his father assured him. "And afterwards he'll be forbidden from reaching out to you for life. He's no longer your concern."
"It won't hurt to monitor him regardless," Peter said, his eyes glowing eerily red. "As far as I'm concerned, he's our pack's enemy number one."
"No complaints here," Isaac growled to which Derek nodded his agreement.
"Also, it's bullshit that the same can't go for you, just because you're the sheriff," Stiles added. Lou crept up even further, encroaching on his face.
"The judge's ruling is only relevant as long as I'm the sheriff," his father replied, expression turning a little wary at Lou's wandering. "That could change very quickly. As long as it is my job to serve and protect the people of Beacon Hills, and Scott is a citizen here, that includes him."
"Tell me you're at least unhappy about it," Isaac demanded stubbornly. "You shouldn't have to serve someone who kidnapped you."
"Oh, I'm very unhappy about it," John clarified. "And thankfully reality is a little more flexible than the judge's ruling. Due to our history I'm not allowed to apprehend him without backup, I can't interrogate him, and it'd be best if someone else handled all things concerning law and order altogether where Scott is concerned. We all would like to avoid some crafty lawyer getting Scott free because I'm compromised."
"But you have to be approachable as the highest ranking officer of the law in the county," Derek said slowly.
"It really is a technicality," the sheriff repeated. "One I won't allow Scott to exploit."
Stiles pointed a finger at his father, noting with grim satisfaction that Lou formed a claw at the tip for emphasis. "I won't just ward all of our stuff, I'll ward you to hell and back, too, dad. Just so we're clear."
"I'm not going to say no to that, kiddo," John said, eyes wide at the sight of the claw. "Uhm, is that normal?"
"I don't know," Peter answered calmly. "I've never seen the like. But if it works …"
"Right. You'll get him trained? I mean, that's a potentially deadly weapon." The sheriff paused, his mouth dropping open slightly when the claw grew even longer. "With a mind of its own, holy crap."
Isaac laughed at his horror. "We'll help Stiles work it out. Lou's not gonna hurt him, promise."
"It's almost like having a symbiont," Stiles said excitedly, turning his hand this way and that and wiggling his fingers to animate the wolf spirit to give him more claws. He lowered his voice and boomed, "We are Venom."
The ash on Stiles' skin wriggled excitedly.
Derek sighed. "You're such a child."
"Is that supposed to wound me?" Stiles asked. "Because it doesn't, Sourwolf. In fact, I'll need to find out how much mountain ash Lou can move around. Maybe I can really have a wolf suit! Wouldn't that be absolutely awesome?"
His father sagged back in his chair, ran a hand over his face, and desperately looked to Peter for help.
"You'd be better served with roping Derek into trying to curb Stiles' enthusiasm," Peter said in answer to the unspoken question, though he was not without some compassion. "Me, I'd much rather find out what Stiles is capable of instead of trying to hold him back."
John groaned, and groaned even louder when Peter added, "Of course the same is true for Isaac and my nephew. I'm not playing favourites in that regard."
oOo
The next few days passed quickly, mainly because everything Stiles and Isaac had ordered for the warding endeavor had arrived and they were busy organizing the available workspace. It quickly became evident to Stiles that painting the stones had to be a truly communal experience, and so he sent Derek to pick up a long garden table with two matching benches for sitting. That way, everyone could sit and work together, pooling that elusive something everyone in the pack had to offer to make their ward stones truly effective.
"It's a good thing Peter thought to buy a freaking warehouse," Isaac said as he and Derek carried the table to the middle of the huge main space and placed it there under Stiles' instruction. "We could hire half a dozen people and still have room left over."
"Looks good," Stiles praised them. "I'll put some of the colours and rocks on there so we can work on it whenever we've got a minute."
"Peter stocked our fridge last night, too," Isaac went on, "and we've got Netflix and Prime on our TV."
"It's a pretty sweet deal," Stiles grinned. He grabbed Derek around the shoulders and dragged him down onto the bench with him. "Since Derek carried all the heavy stuff, I vote that he gets to choose lunch today and he can decide on the first base colour."
"What an honour," Derek drawled. He reached over and picked out a vibrant reddish purple. "That one."
"Excellent choice," Stiles said, not at all perturbed. "Let's say we exchange base colours every twenty rocks?"
"I'll choose next." Isaac plonked down across from Stiles and Derek and handed out palettes and brushes. "Here you go. Put on gloves and place the finished stones on the rack here. An hour should be more than enough time to get a good head start."
Stiles switched on the TV, an all-day news channel for now, and they got to work. It didn't take half an hour to complete the twenty purple rocks and Isaac pounced to pick a truly obnoxious lime green.
Lunch was pan-seared steak next to a summer salad with mango, pear, and berries as well as goat cheese, fried artichoke and walnuts, all expertly prepared by Derek.
"Guys!" Isaac shouted after clicking around a little on his computer once they were finished eating. "We've got our first order!"
"Wohooo!" Stiles cried. He flailed and nearly broke his neck in his scramble to get over to Isaac's desk. "What do they want?"
"Just one medium med pack card," Isaac replied. "But it's an order!" He held out his hand for a high-five, which Stiles excitedly provided.
"Anyone we know?" Derek asked, leaning over Isaac's other shoulder.
"It's a woman, at least that's what her info says."
Stiles tilted his head thoughtfully. "Well, Peter was clear that we can't rely on that info being true. But it's our first order, so let's throw in a complementary good luck card and maybe a personal thank-you note."
"Not written by you personally," Derek said sternly.
"Yeah, yeah, I remember," Stiles huffed. "Isaac can do it, he's the artist anyway."
"Did I just get promoted to being the face of the company?" Isaac asked drolly, not at all enthused about the idea.
"Someone's got to do it and Peter threatened to hang us all up by the thumbs if I gave away more about me than I absolutely have to." Stiles shrugged and bounced back into an upright position and grinned wickedly. "Besides, it'll be fun to unleash your assholery on unsuspecting people. It'll give them the right idea."
Clearly against his will, Derek snorted out a laugh. "You're a menace."
"Thank you, it's a gift, but I also work hard at it," Stiles confided smugly.
oOo
That night, Stiles' phone shrilled, violently yanking him out of a deep sleep.
"The fuck?" Stiles mumbled blearily. "Shit." He managed to grab the phone and accepted the call. "Peter? Did you rescue someone else from domestic violence?"
Peter's voice was quiet and clipped as he said, "Don't leave the house for any reason. I'll call again, be on your guard."
He immediately hung up afterwards.
Stiles dumbly stared at the phone, only to nearly fall out of bed in a mad dash to his laptop, where he pulled up the camera feeds of their security system. Rewinding the recording to the time his father had come home, Stiles let it run forward at an accelerated speed.
He nearly crushed his keyboard to stop the speed run when suddenly a slender figure appeared in the diffuse streetlight and stopped right in front of their house. Despite the camera's high resolution it was hard to tell much about the person, only that it very probably was a slim woman.
Stiles watched as she watched the house for several minutes. At one point she raised a hand, almost like she wanted to touch something.
"Fuck," Stiles cursed, feeling a chill race down his back. He grabbed his phone and called Isaac.
"So someone was at your house," Isaac greeted him grimly.
"You bet there was. A woman, she acted like she was feeling up a wall or something." Stiles watched said woman lower her arm again and walk away without a care in the world. "She stayed for five minutes, max."
"Then she wasn't a werewolf, your wards would've provoked a visible reaction. It did with all of us when you first installed them," Isaac replied. "It's probably a magic user."
"What? Why? What's she looking for? For that matter, what even happened?" Stiles asked. "Peter's call scared me shitless."
"I sincerely hope not." Isaac exhaled sharply. "Around ten minutes ago, several security systems right around us went off at the same time, both in cars and buildings. We investigated first via our security cameras and, when the street came up empty, we went outside. Several someones painted some ugly-ass symbol onto a couple of cars, on the street, and onto the facade of the house across. The neighbours are fucking not amusement."
"Show me a picture," Stiles demanded. A second later the picture arrived in his and Isaac's messenger feed. "Wow, it is ugly. What does it mean?"
"Peter growled something about the alpha pack before sending me back inside. He took Derek to catch scents and tracks, if possible, but it seems like they have a magic user on their side because so far there hasn't been anything for them to find."
Stiles muttered a curse. "What about the recordings of your cameras?"
"Five people in black, likely leather. They wore motorcycle helmets to obscure their faces, maybe to disguise the fact that a magic user assisted them. It might work for the mundanes, but they have to know that we'd know better. How else could they have come so close without waking Derek or Peter?"
"Yeah, I agree." Stiles spun away from the computer and stared at his eerily blank walls. Ever since bringing most of his magic stuff over to the workshop, it felt strangely peaceful at home. Like he'd taken the majority of his almost manic energy over there as well. It made for more restful sleep, but it was still strange. "My dad will flip."
"As he should. The way Peter reacted, that alpha pack can't be good news," Isaac replied. "It was on our agenda anyway, but we'll really have to speed up the project 'Warding Hale Land To Hell And Back' now. They might already be inside our territory, but that doesn't mean we have to make their stay comfortable."
Stiles narrowed his eyes, feeling a completely foreign sense of fury at the violation of their borders. The explanation for this followed promptly as Lou manifested in a picture of a growling wolf with raised hackles on his left arm.
"You bet we will," Stiles said, carefully caressing the restless spirit in an attempt to soothe him. "I'll call Erica and Boyd in the morning and rope them into helping with the ward stones. Plus, and you won't like it, we should talk about bringing Jackson and Lydia up to speed. I need to do it anyway, and we could really use their help. If Lydia's a banshee, that means she's got magic, right? Because right now we can definitely do with more magic."
There was a long pause. When Isaac finally answered, he sounded both resigned and weirdly excited. "You might be right, the thousand attached problems notwithstanding. Wow. Peter's gonna give you so much shit over this."
"Why me?" Stiles whined.
Bone dry, Isaac retorted, "Because I sure as fuck am not gonna tell him."
End of chapter 50
