Not much to tell, other than that my city's quickly becoming a hot spot for the corona virus, which is all sorts of not good. *sigh*

Stay safe, please, don't listen to certain orange people and their minions.


Chapter 51

"So, an alpha pack," Stiles' father said mildly over breakfast.

The silence in the Stilinski kitchen was oppressive. Not even their obvious appetite could bring the tired werewolves to eat their platefuls of scrambled eggs and hash browns with any sort of enthusiasm.

The sheriff went on, "I assume that it is a pack made up of alphas, which seems to be bad news, going by your cheery disposition."

"In past times, the alpha pack was an instrument of The Council to evaluate problematic shifts of power in shifter packs and, if necessary, to bring order to the chaos. They still use it to that effect today," Peter explained. "This alpha pack, however, is not Council-sanctioned, as they've neither approached us in the official manner, nor given us a detailed list of their grievances against us."

"What is the official manner?" Stiles asked impatiently. While it was still early, he felt that the day was already getting away from them.

"A handwritten letter with the official seal of the alpha pack and the signatures of the known alphas," Peter replied. "The seal's been in use for centuries, children in the werewolf community the world over grow up knowing what it looks like. This pack could've forged it reasonably well, they could've sent an official looking letter to state their intent to visit and observe I'd probably have let them."

"But they didn't," Derek growled. He looked deeply unhappy.

"No, they didn't go to that trouble." Peter looked at all of them, face stony. "They came marching into town, apparently convinced that we won't contact The Council to deal with them since we just signed the agreement with the Argents to avoid exactly that."

"But that doesn't make any sense," Stiles said. "It's not the same thing, is it? They're imposters, reporting them to The Council to get rid of them has nothing at all to do with our pack."

Isaac nodded with agreement.

"Unfortunately The Council isn't as clear cut about such issues as the mundanes can be. While this alpha pack is not sanctioned by them and would suffer punishment were we to complain, they'd take a long, hard look at what has tempted them to move in on us." Peter sighed at Stiles' rebellious scowl. "It is deeply unfair, we all know that, but it is what it is. Out of necessity, our community believes in eradicating the root cause of a problem so it won't spread. This has protected us from discovery far too many times, you see. That's why they'll use such invasive magic to determine the guilt and innocence in a feud, and why they'd probably kill the alpha pack for their presumption, but also judge us for any wrongdoings that eventually brought us here."

The sheriff's eyebrows rose higher the more Peter explained. "If that's how you deal with problems, how has your community not completely died out yet? The way I see it you either get yourselves killed in feuds, or you get killed by your government."

Peter smiled, showing not just a hint of fang. "We've learned to work with what laws we have quite well. We were given options in our laws centuries ago, you see, and as a pack we will evaluate those options together to choose the best path."

"I say let's get rid of that alpha pack permanently," Isaac said. He shrugged at John's incredulous look. "What? They vandalized three cars because they couldn't do it to Peter and Derek's. They'll try to destroy more, or try to pick us off one by one, if we don't act fast."

"Isaac is right," Peter murmured. "They're renegades, either after the Hale territory, or after a new member. Both scenarios are equally bad for us because we wouldn't survive in either."

"You might," Derek said quietly.

"No, I wouldn't," Peter returned steadily. "I might've made a lot of mistakes, but I'd never betray my pack that way."

"Well, I might survive long enough to kill them all in their sleep," Stiles interjected, "but yeah. Sentiment returned, dude."

"Let's say, hypothetically, that I wouldn't have a problem with you dealing permanently with those people," Stiles' father said. "What would that mean for my people?"

Peter picked up his tea cup and contemplated the contents for a moment. "I can't guarantee a clean vanishing act. Not at all, if I'm completely honest. But I'll endeavor to get rid of the threat as quickly as possible."

"You'd need everyone's help with that," the sheriff added. "Making them, us, essentially an accessory to murder."

"Yes, unfortunately."

"If it helps," Stiles said, drawing his father's attention from Peter to himself, "I'm not especially worried about that. Those guys seem to be really bad news, and as soon as they lay a claw on someone, anyone, their time's up as far as I'm concerned."

"What he said," Isaac chimed in.

For almost a minute, both Stilinskis stared at each other, neither giving an inch.

At last, the sheriff conceded, "I want any and all information on those people you can give me, Hale. Police files as well as rumours out of your community, whatever, and I want them now. I also want your promise that you'll try to run them off first, if you can, and if you can't, make it look like an accident or an animal attack if at all possible."

"As I said, it might not be possible, but I'll do my best," Peter agreed. "In the meantime I'll employ a tracing spell to find the alpha pack and try to teach Stiles how to pick up the magical signature of an invading magic user and follow it to their location."

"She might have thought of that," Derek said.

"Yes, she might, but maybe she's underestimating Stiles. We'll just have to see what happens." Peter picked up a breakfast roll and split it with a precise cut of his knife. "Isaac, Derek, I'd recommend getting your fill now because we'll have to check the whole perimeter today. That's a lot of ground to cover."

"And I hope that Erica and Boyd actually want to come over today," Stiles said. "We need at least another two hundred ward stones to ward your territory in the preserve, and that's an optimistic guess after looking at your map."

"I hope so, too," the sheriff said. He smiled tightly at his son. "If I had any doubt about your abilities, you've put them to rest by warding the cars. I saw the security feed; those guys really put their back into trying to destroy them. It's a relief to know that Stiles has done the same to all of our cars as well."

"Get me into the station's car park sometime this week and I'll ward the rest of them." Stiles snagged the bottom half of peter's roll from his plate but handed him the strawberry jam, freshly made by Marsha, in exchange. "And I know you don't like thinking about it, but it's high time I had my little presentation for Jackson, Lydia, and Melissa. I'd also like to include Erica and Boyd. It only stands to reason that those alpha creeps might go after them to get to us and they deserve to at least know what they're getting into."

"You're right, I do not like it," Peter said. He pushed the butter dish over to Stiles. "However, I can admit that their swift inclusion is far more important than my feelings on the matter."

Next to him, Isaac only badly suppressed a grin at Peter's obvious disgruntlement.

"Additionally, I don't think it'd be a good idea to inform all of them at the same time. Erica and Boyd should get preferential treatment as your friends, and the Failure's mother should know as little as possible about our pack structure or Stiles' abilities, or even the sheriff's inclusion in the goings on."

"Yeah, I'm good with that. I could start telling Erica and Boyd a little today," Stiles said. "Melissa should get the abridged version anyways, since Scott's no longer a werewolf. She just needs context, not the full Monty. And if I'm able to make taking Lou from him seem like a good thing, that's even better."

"With his asthma rearing its ugly head?" his father asked skeptically. "I wouldn't be surprised if she offered you money to give Lou back to him, mental issues be damned."

"Maybe, but that's not my problem." Stiles shrugged when the sheriff raised his eyebrows. "It really isn't. Scott got his heart's desire, it's not my fault if he doesn't like it as much as he thought he would. Melissa shedding a few tears won't change my mind."

"Have I told you lately that I adore you?" Peter asked, visibly delighted.

"Too damn often," Stiles' father grunted, finally reaching for his coffee and gulping down half of it in one big swallow.

Stiles positively glowed at the compliment.

oOo

Erica was so on board with the plan to come visit Stiles in his Bat Cave that she made Stiles pick her and Boyd up, despite the fact that Boyd hadn't voiced an opinion, and that it wasn't even half past eight yet.

"I'm so glad you're making time for me," Stiles told them as they left Boyd's house behind.

"Erica decided that we should," Boyd replied, a little snarky. "What do you need us for at this ungodly hour?"

"It's almost nine now, don't be a drama queen." Erica poked him, only to giggle when Boyd caught her hand and kissed the palm. "Stiles said he'd feed us."

"It's sort of a big art project," Stiles said. "I better show you instead of telling you right now, because it's a bit ..."

"Weird?" Boyd raised an eyebrow.

Stiles snapped his fingers and drummed them on the steering wheel. "That, yeah."

"I like weird," Erica declared, grinning. "Honestly, I can't wait to find out what it's all about. You might not wanna tell us, but can I guess?"

"Guess away, Catwoman," Stiles answered, catching her eye in the rearview mirror and winking. "Amaze me."

Ten hilarious minutes later Erica still hadn't guessed right, which had only ramped up her excitement. Pleased at having entertained her so well until now, Stiles led them up to Peter's apartment to dish up the promised breakfast.

"This place is amazing," Erica gushed after her first good look around. "I mean, it looked great through a camera, but holy shit, this apartment is huge. Your man's loaded, Stiles! Maybe you should forget those pesky underage laws for a minute and tap that."

Boyd sighed. "Didn't we agree not to make it hard on him?"

"We did, but seriously, Peter's hot and rich, and he must really like Stiles to give him a key and everything," Erica argued. She turned around again, staring at everything. "Wow."

"Do you want coffee while I make the food?" Stiles asked.

His guests did, but they also wanted to help which really was just an excuse to go snooping through the fridge and the cupboards. Erica was positively gleeful about all the low carb foods Peter had stocked and almost out-ate Boyd after Stiles had dished up the heavily herbed scrambled eggs, fresh strawberries, and some weird keto bread that tasted amazing fresh out of the toaster.

"Did Peter know I was coming?" Erica asked, blissfully biting into her thickly buttered toast. "Because this is perfect."

"He's a health nut anyway, but when he learned about your condition he stocked up on things you can eat," Stiles said. "I hope you don't think it's weird."

"It's a little weird," Erica said with a shrug, "but mostly it's damn thoughtful. Since he's definitely not trying to be inappropriate, I won't lose any sleep over it. Pass me the veggies?"

Once they'd finished eating and had cleaned up the kitchen, Stiles led his friends into the sun-flooded workshop.

Erica and Boyd's mouths dropped open and they stared at the many empty shelves, the large garden table and benches smack in the middle of the space, and the many workstations situated underneath the huge windows. After that came a thorough appreciation of the fully equipped kitchen and the snacks Isaac had stuffed into the fridge, and of course the frankly ridiculously over the top entertainment center.

"What is this?" Boyd asked, looking as flabbergasted as Stiles had ever seen him. "What are you doing in here?"

"Well, Isaac's seriously into art, so he set up his stuff here," Stiles began, "and I've got some projects going on I'd better not do at home, so I moved in here as well. They both don't mind, obviously." He gestured at the table where the racks of colourful rocks were waiting to be adorned further. "This is what I'm into right now, rock painting."

"Rock painting?" Erica echoed, nonplussed. "What for?"

Stiles picked a purple rock up and tossed it between his hands. "In Germany they're called Wanderstein, meaning that the painted rocks will be returned to the wild once people are done painting them, and wanderers can find and enjoy them, even take them someplace else. I need to make a couple hundred of them, at least, and it'd be great if you would help."

"Can I ask why you need so many?" Boyd stepped up to the table and picked up a bottle of acrylic colour. "And why so soon?"

Knowing that he couldn't lie to them forever, and really not wanting to in any case, Stiles offered, "I wanna make a sort of stone chain for Beacon Hills."

"Like border stones?" Boyd asked dubiously.

"Yeah! Like that. But for that I need a lot of stones and I need them quickly."

"You have all summer," Erica returned, eyeing Stiles with something akin to worry. "What's the rush?"

"You've met me, right?" Stiles asked, fidgeting with a brush. "And also, maybe I'm gonna imagine that this border will keep more creeps out. I mean, it's sorta necessary after the shitshow with the Argents and Scott, isn't it?"

"Like magic wards in a video game?" Erica's little frown lifted at Stiles' nod and turned into a grin. "In that case, count me in. It sounds like it'd be fun!"

"I'm not sure I buy this, but whatever." Boyd sat at the table. "Where do we start?"

Beyond grateful that he wasn't going to be questioned further for now, Stiles shoved a pile of rocks towards his friends, let them choose a base colour each, and asked them to coat as many rocks as possible. Himself, he chose one of the already dry lime green stones and got to painting it with blue and white spirals. The next rock was purple and got treated to an orange butterfly shape, and the one after that to black zebra stripes.

Erica lasted half an hour before she complained of boredom. Stiles, who'd counted on her breaking first, graciously invited her to use the acrylic pens and took over for her. Thankfully her cup of pastel blue was nearly empty so Stiles could choose another colour for himself once he was done with it.

"You should do some artsy stuff, too, Boyd," Stiles commented at the full hour mark.

Boyd briefly looked up from the rock he was covering in glittering bronze. "I'll leave that to you and Erica. I actually like this."

"You do?" Stiles dropped another dark yellow stone onto the rack to dry. "Then you've got more patience than I do."

Shrugging, Boyd replied, "Dunno if it is about patience. I just like providing a foundation." He paused. "Literally."

Stiles smiled crookedly at him. "I sort of got that about you, actually. I can't say I don't appreciate it because man, this is lame."

"It needs to be done, apparently." Boyd pointed at Erica. "Maybe you should stop her from painting so many penises on your rocks."

"She does seem to be a bit preoccupied with them," Stiles leered. "Is there something you wanna tell me?"

Incredibly, Boyd flushed, faltering for a moment in his painting.

"Not yet," Erica cackled. She showed off her newest artwork, a humongous silver penis on one of the purple rocks. "But I'm working on it. Tirelessly."

"Erica," Boyd begged.

"Sorry, boo." She smiled warmly at him. "I'm just having fun. Even if it's true."

Stiles laughed out loud and then snapped a picture of their little collection of weener rocks to amuse the poor sods on patrol.

The morning passed quickly, even with a long break for drinks and snacks and stretching out their legs. Inevitably, Erica discovered the shelf with the finished products for the shop, and naturally she and Boyd were having questions. While it had been more or less planned and expected, it was still nerve-wracking.

"Okay, this probably sounds super weird but …" Stiles raised his shoulders uncomfortably, "but this is Isaac's and my thing. We design … magic stuff. Like those cards."

"Magic stuff," Boyd repeated with raised eyebrows.

"Yeah, like, for healing, mostly. We haven't gotten very far with developing products yet, but we're working on it. The stuff you're seeing there, we're selling it on Etsy. Our shop went live last weekend." Stiles watched as Erica studied the turquoise healing card she'd plucked from its carton. "This one's for light healing, nothing huge."

"You talk like it actually works," Erica said, raising her eyes to Stiles and studying him like she wanted to assess his mental health.

For a moment, the words got stuck in Stiles' throat. It was now or never; he could either tell them the truth about himself, or he could laugh it off as some kind of art project he was helping Isaac with.

He did not laugh it off. This was his chance to gently make Boyd and Erica aware of the supernatural ... possibly even the best chance he'd ever get.

"I do, because it does," he managed to say, surprised at how calm he actually sounded.

Erica paused, staring like she was waiting for the punch line.

"It does work," Stiles repeated. He wiggled his fingers. "Magician here."

"No way," Erica burst out.

"Yes way," Stiles countered, a slow grin taking over his mouth unbidden.

Boyd put an arm around Erica's shoulders, eyes fixed on Stiles. "Are you serious."

"Well, I sure as hell am not trying to have you on," Stiles replied, completely torn between trying not to feel disappointed, and, weirdly, trying not to laugh. "I didn't know how to tell you, but I can show you. At least a little bit."

"You can show us a magic trick." Erica's eyes travelled all over Stiles' face and down to his hands before finding and meeting Boyd's. "I don't think he's trying to bullshit us. He's too calm."

"Yeah," Boyd agreed. "I don't wanna call you a liar, but it better be good, Stiles."

"Keep the card," Stiles instructed Erica. "Let's go back to the table, we have more room there, and better light."

They settled back at a clear section of the ward stone table, Stiles' friends tense, almost rigid, with expectation.

"Relax, I'm not gonna pull a bunny out of a hat," Stiles teased them. "Instead I've got this …" He pulled a baggie of mountain ash from his pant pocket, opened it - and willed the dark powder to creep up his hand like a glove. Amidst Erica's gasp he explained, "That's mountain ash. I can manipulate it however I like."

Boyd's jaw actually dropped as he watched the dark ash collect in Stiles' palm, only to be kneaded like some sort of play dough. Right afterwards it trickled through Stiles' fingers like the dry powder it actually was.

"How are you doing that?" Erica asked in a hushed voice. "Can I touch it?"

"Be my guest," Stiles invited. "You too, Boyd."

Eagerly, Erica poked and prodded at the dark dust, managing to get a few pinches into her palm only to lose half of it when she attempted to knead it like Stiles had done. "No way! It just doesn't work that way for me! Boyd!"

"I told you it was magic," Stiles repeated with a grin. He called the ash towards him again but took Erica's hand. "Let's play a little, okay?"

All three watched the ash wander from Stiles fingers to Erica's, wrapping snugly around them like lacy gloves and then wandering off towards her forearm.

"I'm seeing this, but I'm having trouble believing," Boyd confessed. He allowed Stiles to take his hand so the ash could wander over him, too. "You're magic."

"I'm magic," Stiles agreed. "In the interest of full disclosure … fuller disclosure, oh my god, don't look at me like that ... your friendship bracelets are also a bit magic. For your protection and some luck and stuff."

"I knew it," Erica cried. She touched it possessively. "It's not ever gonna come off."

"Probably not, since I made it a bit sturdier for you." Stiles grinned. "Anyway, you're taking this remarkably well, so whew! Thanks, you guys."

"I reserve the right to freak out about it later," Boyd said dryly. Even without Stiles' touch, the ash was still writhing on his skin. "Can you take this away from me, please? It's weirding me out."

"Oh, yeah, of course. C'mere, ash."

Obediently, the dark, slightly glittery dust rushed off Boyd's fingertip and flowed onto Stiles' hand, up his arm, and vanished underneath his T-shirt.

"What … where is it?" Erica shook her head. "Do I want to know?"

"You probably do, and I'll tell you, just not right now." Stiles pulled out his phone. "What're your plans for the weekend? You got a date planned on Saturday?"

"Not yet," Boyd said slowly. "There's more to tell?"

"Loads more, I don't even know how to not make it sound ominous." Stiles grimaced. "Worse, Lydia and Jackson will be there. They're involved and need to know, too."

Erica shook her head. "You know, it must actually be real and not a crazy dream if you're bringing more people into this. People you don't really like, I should say."

Snorting, Stiles said, "I wish it was a mere delusion, but no. Unfortu-fucking-nately not. I fully expect you to shout at me, maybe even throw stuff, just … don't stop talking to me afterwards, okay? And please don't go and tell other people because this is not just my secret to tell. Can I trust you to do that?"

"Definitely until Saturday," Erica promised. "Although I'd love to tell my parents about your magic ash! They'd so try to recruit you for their business. Like, can you suck all the dirt out of a room? Have you tried?"

Stiles had not tried this particular feat, but he promised her that they could find out after the meeting on Saturday - if she still wanted to hang out then.

It was humbling how Boyd's long look of snotty derision said even more than a dozen of Erica's heartfelt denials.


End of chapter 51