Chapter 61

Stiles only felt a little pathetic when he excused himself to the next public bathroom with a flail. Derek had twitched like he'd wanted to follow, which thankfully Stiles' dad had prevented.

I'm okay, Stiles thought a little hysterically, staring at his red-eyed reflection in the mirror above the sink. What are a few red eyes in the grand scheme of things, eh?

Out loud, he said, "How's that possible, Lou? I get that you're an alpha now, but we're not really bonded. Not like the others."

Bonded enough, drifted across his agitated mind. It was one smug, smooth roll, like an ocean wave over a reef of jagged volcano rubble. Sparks are merging. Feels good.

It did feel good if a little weird.

"We're gonna have to work so hard not to flash those lookers at people," Stiles muttered. "Oh my god, how's that my life."

Good life, Lou rumbled. Love you.

Another roll of emotion nearly smothered Stiles, this time a hot yet mellow affection that radiated bliss into the darkest corners of his mind.

"Aw, buddy. Love you too." Stiles blinked the red away and sniffed. "You did real good, earlier. We protected our pack like a champ. Although we need to ease up a little on humans like Danny, yeah? He's a little shit, but he didn't actually mean us harm."

Lou disagreed, which Stiles was okay with as long as there wouldn't be squabbling over the physical boundaries Stiles imposed. He had a feeling that they already had an accord regarding supernatural and human issues regardless - each of them would primarily deal with their side of things unless it became apparent that it wouldn't work out. That allowed for a lot of grey areas where they both got a say and Stiles was okay with that, too.

"So, what do we call us?" Stiles asked, quirking a half-smile. "Venom Wolf would be amazing. It'd even be true since you're moving around in mountain ash. That'll drive supernatural douchebags crazy."

Lou's amusement tickled Stiles behind the ribs and they shared a moment of perfect understanding.

"We'll need to train," Stiles added then. "And I guess Peter's senior, even if you're both alphas and technically equals."

We're alpha, Lou admonished. Together.

Stiles' eyes bled red again and he swallowed, chastised. "Right. Yeah. Together. Still, we've had almost no training, and half the time I don't even know what I'm doing. We need to go back to self-defence training, and get better at doing magic, too. It's not fair to you to have a body that's not as strong as if you were inside."

Lou sort of happily snuggled his mind at that, his approval of Stiles' dedication a sweet layer on top of his already overwhelming puppy love.

"Just give me some time to complete the ward around Beacon Hills and get full clearance from the doctors and then we can begin our training. Oh, and if we could leave off the hunting of bunnies and stuff, I'd be grateful. I'm not that into catching my own dinner."

Lou's amusement nearly bowled him over.

"That was not an agreement, buddy!" Stiles huffed, laughing. Seriously, how is this my life?

A knock at the door put an end to their little communion.

Erica, Lou supplied, though not so much in a word as with how he perceived her. Erica was noise and sunshine and energy, the impression muted by the scent of cleaning agents and medication. Stiles associated those sense impressions with her parents, mostly.

"Hi," Stiles said after opening the door. "What's up?"

"We're afraid that you're having a silent freak-out. The pack was listening in to your conversation with yourself," she said bluntly. "Peter wasn't worried, but Derek and Isaac won't calm down. You ready to head back?"

"Sure, Catwoman." Stiles sighed. "I was having a conversation with Lou, which is not the same thing. Just for the record."

Erica's eyes lit up. "Oooh, you'll have to tell me all about it." She took his hand and dragged him back to their room. There, she pushed Stiles at Isaac, who unapologetically pressed up to him as much as he was able and snuffled along his neck. "He's just fine, you can all chill now."

"Well done, thank you," Peter praised. He held out Stiles' Tupperbox with the barely eaten gnocchi. "You must be hungry by now. Please eat."

"There's also Thai if you don't like cold pasta," the sheriff supplied.

"Nah, that's okay." Stiles gratefully took the gnocchi. His fingers brushed against Peters and he very firmly told himself that it didn't mean anything. His stupid eyes, however, begged to differ. They grew hot, clearly flashing their new colour at the man.

The answering flash of Peter's eyes, not to mention the smug curl of his lips, stirred up quite a bit of guilty excitement in Stiles' stomach.

"Oh my god," Isaac muttered, his hold around Stiles' waist growing a bit firmer. "Can you not? Please?"

Flushing, Stiles dropped his gaze and concentrated on his food.

"Can I ask what Stiles also being a real alpha werewolf will mean for you?" Danny asked into the tense silence. "You're not into building your own alpha pack, or are you?"

"The dynamics would be a nightmare," Peter said smoothly, taking his burning eyes from Stiles and concentrating on the others. "Every pack needs a leader, even in an alpha pack. It takes special handling to make that work. In our case, I do have seniority."

Stiles perked up since that was almost exactly what he'd said to Lou.

Peter nodded at him. "Both Stiles and I know that I have more experience, being a born werewolf and all that. Therefore, Stiles' ascendance to werewolf alpha is not a threat to my alpha position right now. In fact, it's good that he acquired an alpha spark for himself since he already became Derek's alpha when he was still a human. That'll enable him to protect his friends better and last longer against enemies."

"Wait, that can happen? Humans can become alpha to a werewolf?" Danny asked, flabbergasted. He looked at Stiles like he was a stranger.

"Through a lot of dedication and a dash of magic, yes, absolutely," Peter replied. "Their bond was solid before, but the addition of an alpha spark won't hurt their bond at all."

"But … Stiles is younger." Danny's stare went from Stiles to Derek. "Not-Miguel looks like he could easily bench press him. Like, forever."

"Oh, he probably can." Isaac smirked. "Doesn't mean Stiles is not the boss."

"As much as Derek will let me be the boss," Stiles muttered and shoved another spoonful of cheesy gnocchi in his mouth. "As I said, no one's a slave here or whatever crap is going through your head."

"It's just hard to wrap my mind around," Danny confessed. "But it's super interesting, too."

"It totally is," Erica agreed. "I hope I'll be friends with Stiles forever so I can learn all of it."

"You say the nicest things, Catwoman," Stiles said through his mouthful of food. "Also, same."

While his dad was admonishing him for his atrocious manners, Erica beamed and wriggled happily into Derek's side, who bore it with a resigned sort of fondness.

A few minutes later Stiles' father ushered Danny out with the promise to list him and Lydia as visitors, though not without reading him the riot act about distracting the officer on watch duty with a fake emergency message first.

"I'll make it up to you," Danny promised sheepishly before trotting off. "Bye guys, see you tomorrow."

"Unfortunately I'll have to leave soon as well," Peter said after the teen was gone. "I trust Stiles and the sheriff's people to protect you, but be careful regardless."

"I brought the ward stones from the station," John added, pointing at the duffle bag by his chair, "so you can protect the room from the inside."

"There's also mountain ash in that bag. Use it," Peter ordered. "There'll be a night visit by a nurse, you'll all make sure that she checks out and doesn't inject unwelcome pharmaceuticals in your IVs."

"I've got it," Stiles said. "I'll tune up the ward stones and try to add an intent element to it. If someone's not kosher, they won't be able to enter."

"Even if they did, Derek and I will probably be able to smell any poisons," Isaac continued. "What's more, Mahealani left Whittemore his laptop. You can bet that he'll activate the camera when it's lights out."

Jackson flushed a bright red. "That okay? Lydia's been sending me a hundred messages already. She hates being held up at the party and that'd calm her down a little."

"It's not my kink, but I'll allow it," Stiles decided. "Hopefully we can leave soon. That's not how I imagined I'd spend the summer."

"Dr Lee is on our side," the sheriff said quietly. He nodded to Peter. "You might want to read him in sometime soon, though, because that man is really getting curious about all the rapid healing cases that are sprouting up around here."

"It's on my ever-growing to-do list," Peter retorted, drawing a little giggle from Erica. "Maybe you can sound him out, Sheriff, find out when would be a good time and then join me. He will likely take it better if someone familiar corroborates my explanation."

"Yeah, I'd better." Stiles' father ran a hand over his face. "I need to get back to the station, oversee that clusterfuck of an evening." He stepped up to Stiles and took his face into his hands. "Why do these things keep happening to you? A werewolf alpha at seventeen. With magic. Jesus."

Unashamed, Stiles leaned into the caress. "No idea, but I won't let it bring us down."

"We," Boyd corrected him, eyebrow slightly raised at Stiles' surprised look.

"Yes, we won't let it bring us down, doofus," Erica confirmed before either Isaac or Derek could. "Death and decapitation suck, but that's the others, not you, so. Not getting rid of us that easily."

"On that high note, the adults and the two non-pack humans will be leaving," John sighed. "The rest of you do your best to rest and recover. And please be careful. If those people get it in their head to try again … let's just say that I'd much rather investigate their unfortunate end than yours. Come, Erica, Boyd, I'll give you a ride home."

After a round of hugs and, in Boyd's case, friendly handshakes, the four left the room and Stiles left Isaac's side to spread out the two dozen ward stones on his own bed. It was a matter of minutes to concentrate enough to give them their new and improved orders.

"You can breathe, you know," Stiles said to Jackson when he was done.

Jackson scoffed. "That was lame, Stilinski. I thought there'd be a light show or something!"

Smirking, Stiles grabbed five rocks and willed his mountain ash to grab them. In a black flow, it transported the rocks to Jackson's bed and placed them evenly spaced on the covers around the boy. "You try to move them now, Whittemore."

"Ha, that won't work." Jackson reached out to the nearest bright blue stone with a neon-coloured peacock and runes in glittering pink on it, only to be rebuffed. "What the hell!"

"Told you," Stiles said smugly. His ash returned to him, oozed underneath the rest of the ward stones and carried them off, one by one, like a line of marching ants. In just a couple of minutes, the walls were lined with colourful ward stones.

A shiver went through Derek and Isaac and even Jackson twitched a little.

"Wow, you did feel that, didn't you?" Isaac asked, his eyes glowing amber. "What happened?"

Stiles shrugged. "I'm guessing that the ward stones somehow linked up with the runes I painted to contain the healing energy. Huh."

"Huh?" Jackson asked sharply and rubbed his forearm. " That's all you have to say about that? How about fucking creepy!"

"Fucking helpful is what it is," Derek said, unmoved. "You're still injured, but how bad do you think it'd be without Stiles' magic? They'd have had to stitch up your whole shoulder, instead of just putting a pressure bandage on it. Overnight it'll probably heal so much that you'll already have some mobility back."

"What Derek's meaning to say is that you'd better be grateful, or Stiles might take his toys and go home," Isaac sneered. "You'll have lots of fun healing at a human speed, I'm sure."

"Don't be too hard on him, guys. I'd be freaking out too if I were new to all of this," Stiles said. He eyed Jackson speculatively. Almost as an afterthought, he motioned for the mountain ash to retrieve the ward stones on Jackson's bed so the teen could move freely again. "I don't know what to think about you being able to feel that. So far only the fur brigade reacted to my magic. It works for humans, but they don't feel it like the werewolves do."

"Do you think he's turning?" Derek asked. He took a long sniff. "I can't smell anything yet. For a normal turning, it'd be too early yet."

"I don't know," Stiles admitted, carefully plucking the stones out of the ash and placing them back in their bag. "We could test again. If you feel that too, it might be a good sign, Jackson."

The desperate hope in the teen's eyes was hard to bear. "You think so?"

Stiles held Jackson's pleading stare easily. "I believe it, and you should, too."

oOo

The night passed reasonably well, all things considered. Every couple of hours at least one of them woke from a night terror and needed a few minutes to calm back down again, which in turn woke the others, but it was still more restful than Stiles had anticipated. He spent the minutes awake with reciting a healing spell to help the others settle down again. The night nurse's visit was just another such instance and passed without issue.

No, the trouble started in the morning. Even without Isaac and Derek's horrified expressions, Stiles could see the black that had seeped through Jackson's bandage. Not much later, a rather violent nosebleed followed. While that one could be stemmed with a little magical help, a whole flood of black snot followed.

"That's not good," Isaac muttered, frantically typing away on his phone. "Shit, shit, shit."

Jackson, who was standing bent over the sink in the ensuite bathroom and gripping the porcelain so hard his knuckles turned white, gasped, "I'm not turning, am I?"

"I …" Stiles' arm around Jackson's back tightened. "I'm afraid not. That's exactly what Lydia went through. I'm so sorry."

There was a noise by the open door and then Derek said, "The only good thing is that he's not dead yet and that he's obviously expelling whatever the alpha bite is made of." His eyes were wide and vulnerable. "It went much quicker for Paige."

Stiles could only swallow around the heavy lump in his throat and nod in grateful acknowledgement.

From the room, Isaac called, "Peter says to continue with the healing stuff. It might help Jackson along. Also, we're to remain with him for as long as possible."

Jackson heaved and spit out another mouthful of black goo. "We all know that it's over for me," he said hoarsely.

"It's only over when you're dead," Stiles said firmly. "And that won't happen. Not on my watch. If Lydia can survive this, you can survive this. Or do you really want to make her a teen widow?"

"We're not married," Jackson groaned. He wiped his mouth and grimaced at the black streaks on the back of his hand.

"You're as good as, you said so yourself," Stiles said firmly. "That shit matters, Jackson. She matters."

"Also, we matter too," Derek went on. "We're not friends, but we could be."

"What he said." Stiles sighed. "This is the moment where I'll show my bossy side and send you back to bed, Sourwolf. You look like a ghost. I'll text Erica and ask her to bring food, you obviously need it."

"Met too!" Isaac yelled. "I want pastrami sandwiches!"

Unter Stiles' hand, Jackson's ribcage shuddered a little. "I can't believe I'm saying that, but pastrami sounds pretty good."

"Consider it done," Stiles said. He patted Jackson's back. "Can you go back to bed, or do you want to hog the bathroom a bit longer?"

"Give me a bucket and I'm golden," Jackson sniped. He straightened up, chanced a look at his pasty reflection in the mirror, and blanched even more. "Jesus fucking Christ. My dad will never let me go anywhere alone, ever again."

"He's pretty much the type, yeah," Stiles muttered and shrugged. "Go back to bed, I'll bring a bucket and then call Erica. She'll love bugging Peter."

Jackson huddled under the covers, shivery now that the bout of sickness had passed for the moment, and sniffled miserably. Stiles had an eye on him while he called Erica - and he had a grateful grin for Isaac when the teen offered to let Jackson watch anything he wanted on the hospital TV.

"You okay?" Stiles quietly asked Derek, settling his hand around his friend's injured neck. "Does it still hurt?"

"I'm almost healed," Derek replied, pressing against the warmth of Stiles's touch. "Food will be good, though. We're all too weak."

Stiles sighed. "I wish I could've prevented this."

"You will next time," Derek rumbled, eyes sliding shut when Stiles began to lightly massage his neck. "You've got alpha powers now."

"Don't remind me how I came into their possession," Stiles whispered. He swallowed. "That was pretty gross."

"Lou will help with the processing," Derek told him. "A justified kill doesn't bother werewolves much. It's just not in our nature."

"Yeah, about that. Lou is rather smug about how he just …" Stiles made a yanking motion with his free hand. On the fingers grew black claws, he didn't even have to really think about it anymore. "He likes the range of motion he has with the mountain ash. A lot."

"I'd like it, too," Derek admitted. He opened his eyes and looked up at Stiles. "I've decided to join you and Isaac in your martial arts classes. I need to be better. Not just to help you out, but to protect Erica and Boyd. And Jackson, too, should he decide to join us."

"Stiles can behead assholes anytime he wants if it keeps me alive," Jackson croaked, wide eyes on Stiles' claws, before abruptly bending over his bucket and retching into it. "God, when will this stop."

Since he'd already slapped a red healing card on each of them, Stiles decided to take a moment for himself and write some stuff into the fresh notebook Peter had brought last night with all the other stuff. He had a lot of questions and half-baked ideas on how to help with Jackson's healing, but he also took the time to write down Erica and Isaac's ideas for new merchandise and how they could make use of Danny's skills without allowing him too close, too fast.

An hour later, there was a knock on the door.

Erica and Lydia, Lou supplied, his presence sort of sitting up within Stiles. Where Erica was sunshine and music, Lydia felt like a deep, lonely wood just after a satisfying rain, all green and smelling of petrichor, but also like decay and the thrilling presence of other … and death.

Banshee, Lou rumbled.

Yes, banshee, Stiles agreed.

He let the girls in. While Erica busied herself with unpacking and handing out the food Peter had made for them, Lydia headed straight to Jackson and pulled him into a too-tight embrace. His pale face was squished against her chest and her small fingers held his head in a death grip. Stiles felt a little envious and a whole lot relieved that Lydia had chosen to demonstrate her affection for Jackson so unambiguously. He was even more relieved when Jackson wound both arms around Lydia's hips after a second and pulled her even closer.

"That," Lydia snarled and indicated Jackson's bandaged shoulder, "won't happen again. Not ever."

"Not if we can in any way help it, no," Stiles replied. Her challenging stare unsurprisingly roused Lou and a second later Stiles' eyes were glowing red. He snorted at her shock. "Those alpha douchebags surprised us, but next time we'll be prepared."

"Good. If Jackson dies, you'll end them, or I'll do it myself," Lydia hissed. "Promise me, Stiles."

Erica raised her hand. "Seconded. And I'll help." At everyone's sceptical faces, she shrugged. "What? I hate bullies, and those guys are the worst. If it takes death to get rid of them, I'm fine with that. As long as I don't have to do something icky, that is. Alibis and stuff I can do like whoa."

"There are unknown depths to you, Catwoman," Stiles said admiringly, hot eyes appraising her. With Lou's help, he could almost see the determination swirling around her. It was as heady as it was confusing.

Erica preened under his praise. "You ain't seen nothing yet, Batman."

Lydia released Jackson from her fierce embrace without letting him go completely, her unrelenting stare still on Stiles. "Yes, you ain't seen nothing yet. Whatever you need to make them go away, I'll do my best to provide."


End of chapter 61