Hey guys, sorry for the long wait between updates. I suffered a week of utter uselessness; my head was sort of foggy and everything I wrote was stupid. I'm still not super happy with the chapter, but at least I'm clear-headed enough again to continue, yay. :)

Stay safe! 3

Chapter 77

Unfortunately, though not unexpectedly, a prolonged period of rest had to wait for a bit. Not only would Erica and Boyd be receiving Peter's bite the very next day, but Stiles also had to deal with a couple of very important things before he could afford to sleep.

One of them was Scalyboy's contribution to their defensive efforts. The kanima had likely saved Derek's life with his timely intervention and had also managed to find the site of the banshee versus witch smackdown by following the thread of Stiles' magic. Camouflaged with Jackson's human skin, the kanima had even boldly taken a picture of the slumped young woman in the café right around the corner of the park.

Still wearing Jackson's face, the kanima had then proceeded to find his pack in the park and deliver his results.

Stiles, he wasn't ashamed to admit it, had gushed over the kanima's prowess like a twelve-year-old fanboy and promised lots of bro time in the near future, much to the kanima's obvious satisfaction.

Lydia, bless her heart, didn't ask too many questions and appeared satisfied with the answer that things would take a bit of time before they could be discussed freely. All that really interested her at that moment was getting her boyfriend back and spending some quality time with him … and it helped that Jackson assured her that he trusted Stiles with the details.

"On that note, I think it's time that we left our little hidey-hole," Peter announced once he'd received the picture of the enemy witch. "Most of the injured people have vacated the area. If we leave in small groups, no one should notice us. Take the trash with you, please, and dump it somewhere en route. It's best not to give the sheriff's people any reason to suspect something."

On the way to Peter's apartment, Stiles messaged his father a report on Mission: Ward Drop and sent the picture along, in case he somehow knew the woman.

It turned out he actually did.

"I fucking don't believe it!" Stiles cried into his phone as soon as his father had picked up the call. To Derek's credit, he didn't even flinch, much less cause the Jeep to swerve. "That witch is Scott's therapist?!"

The sheriff sighed. "Apparently, that's the case, yes. As I said, her name is Marin Morrell, and her background checks out. At this point, I don't think it's an accident that she was slated to become Beacon High's guidance counsellor. She applied for a teaching position as well, French if I remember correctly, but she withdrew when our prison announced its request for more counselling staff."

"Jackson's dad told us that her practice was at the border of the town," Stiles recalled. "Oh my god, was she actually angling to get Scott into her clutches?"

"If so, the joke's on her. Several of the Lobos Locos members are minors and she got saddled with them as well, and they're all pieces of work." Stiles' father cleared his throat. "I can't arrest her for fighting you with magic, obviously, so it's up to you to do something about her."

Stiles knew how much it cost his dad not to insist on not killing her if push came to shove. "Well, we've got the wards now so I guess we'll keep an eye on her and see how they affect her."

"And Scott as well," Derek added. "Should she have an interest in him for some reason, any negative influence should affect him as well."

"Alright," the sheriff replied. "Sounds reasonable and doable. Ask your technologically gifted friend to observe and if something changes, you tell me. I'll keep Melissa informed."

"Is she still not better?" Stiles asked, biting his lip. "I could go visit, maybe cheer her up a little?"

"She needs more time," his father told him bluntly, but kindly. "She's still not over the presentation, or what the bite did to Scott's personality."

Stiles closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath.

"But even though she hates it, she still asks me whether you couldn't give the wolf back to Scott so he won't suffer from his asthma," John continued. "She can't even help it, it's the mom in her. She knows that I'll be able to tell her no."

"She doesn't want to do that to Stiles," Derek stated. "That's very decent of her."

"She tries very hard," the sheriff said, sounding tired and sad now. "She misses you, kiddo. I hate seeing her like this, so tired and worn out. I've already talked to her supervisor at work and she has promised to watch out for her."

"I'll prepare a package of healing cards for her," Stiles murmured. "If nothing else they'll prevent her from collapsing. Maybe she'll at least sleep a little better."

"We both know that she'd give them to Scott," his father said. "I'm not glad that he's suffering, but if you want to do something for Melissa, you might have to find another way."

"Okay, dad," Stiles agreed and they finished the call.

"I'm a little glad that he's suffering," Derek said into the morose silence without taking his eyes off the road. "It's no worse than what he had to live with before the bite."

"Maybe it's a little worse," Stiles countered, "but only because he's still allergic to the cleaning stuff they're using in prison." He huffed. "Last I heard they've allowed Melissa to do his laundry. Like she doesn't have enough to do already."

"For her sake, I'm sorry," Derek offered, "but for yours, I hope that he'll stay in prison for a long time."

"You say the sweetest things, Sourwolf," Stiles said softly and leaned against Derek's shoulder. "Thanks."

At the apartment, Danny, Erica, and Boyd surprised the weary troupe with a huge order of organic food, hot chocolate, and a Step Up dance movie. Food for the soul, Danny called it, and Stiles decided that they all needed it, especially in light of the news he had.

Despite the mellow mood, an hour was all Lydia and Jackson were willing to give the group, but it was obvious that their togetherness was doing something to recharge everyone's batteries. While it felt incredibly wholesome to feel so connected, Stiles and Lou both were still glad when Derek took them home around eleven, the ride quiet and undemanding.

Only when Stiles and Derek were both ready for bed did Derek speak of what had visibly bothered him all evening.

"Did you really convince me not to take an alpha spark for myself because you're worried for me?" he asked, forthright as ever. His eyes were on Stiles' face, taking in his every expression, as opposed to on the teen's hands, which were playing with a ward stone that shimmered metallic green and blue like a peacock's tail feathers, with gold and rosé coloured protective runes making up the accents. "Or were you unwilling to deal with yet another alpha? I'd have understood if that were the case."

Stiles, who'd seen this coming despite Derek's assurances to the contrary, tilted his head. "It had nothing to do whatsoever with werewolf hierarchy."

"That's a problem for most alphas," Derek sighed. "No one likes to be challenged."

"Yeah, seconded," Stiles said with a grimace. "But no. That seriously, honestly, wasn't the reason. It has a lot to do with the fact that you're not a killer, though, and killing someone who's already down when it's not an imminent life or death situation doesn't seem like something you'd handle well. Not after what happened to your family. I might be wrong, of course, but you didn't argue back there, so ... was I wrong? Do you regret listening to me?"

Derek's fingers tightened around each other as he thought it over. Eventually, he settled on, "I don't know."

"Okay, that's more than fair," Stiles replied. He sent out a small tendril of mountain ash and held Derek's wrist comfortingly. "I do get why you might want it, you know. The extra strength could help during fights, that's not in question. But dude … you're my friend. Juicing yourself up would only make you into potential cannon fodder. It doesn't even have to be malicious, it'd probably just happen. Like, hey, Derek's super strong now, let's send him in first against the fucking Minotaur. Peter's got all our money, he can go last."

"But that's what an alpha does. They defend their pack with everything they have," Derek argued.

"And that's great," Stiles agreed. "You've taken so much abuse these last six years, though. It literally hurts me in the feels that you're willing to take on more, and looking for ways to make it happen."

"I didn't look for it. The opportunity presented itself," Derek muttered mulishly.

"Same difference," Stiles retorted knowingly. "You still thought about it. And wanted it enough to have this discussion. To be honest, and please don't be offended-"

"Aaand it's time to get offended," Derek interjected with a raised eyebrow and a tiny spark of humour.

"Probably," Stiles admitted with a shrug. "Anyway, to be honest, this whole thing has the distinct flavour of a twisted attempt at finding redemption for getting played by a seasoned serial killer."

"That's not …" Derek growled, eyes glowing blue, only to stop and think for a moment, and then pale. His shoulders slumped. "Fuck."

Stiles grimaced. "Yep. You were headed to a place of pure masochism. Sorry if that's not what I want for my best bud. But never fear! I'll cure the un-fun masochist in you with cuddles."

Derek dropped his gaze and his whole body sagged a little. "I didn't even realize it."

"That's what you've got the pack for," Stiles said, all humour gone now, and squeezed Derek's wrist reassuringly with his mountain ash. "You do have one, now. Also, should I ever get lost somehow, I'd want you - all of you - to do the same for me. I trust you to want what's best for me; I hope that's alright."

Hesitantly, Derek touched two fingers to the thin band of mountain ash on his arm and stroked it. "Yeah. It is." He raised his luminous hazel eyes to Stiles. "Thanks."

"You're über-welcome, dude," Stiles replied, relieved that they'd gotten to the core of the problem so quickly. The trust Derek placed in him never failed to amaze Stiles. "And just so you know, if you wanna become an alpha in the future, I'll be there to talk about it. Just maybe promise me not to hare off in secret? If you died in the attempt, I'd at least like to know what happened to you."

That elicited a small wry smile from Derek. "Deal."

"Great. Now get your hairy wolf butt over here. I've decided to start the cuddle therapy for your unseemly self-flagellation immediately. To properly nip the urge in the bud, you understand."

"Yes, Alpha," Derek rumbled, lowering his eyes for a split second. He then easily curled himself around Stiles' sitting form, winding the upper arm around Stiles' hips and placing the other one along the teen's folded leg.

"Huh, that works," Stiles commented as his mountain ash began covering Derek's body immediately, providing a black snuggle blanket and all the mental closeness Derek could want. "How about an hour, would that be enough therapy for now?"

"It's your decision, Alpha," Derek murmured drowsily. "But an hour sounds about right."

Stiles twisted a little and carded his hand through Derek's dark hair. An hour of communion was all it'd take to properly impose his will on the master ward stone of the town's protections. The one in the park was very important as well as it provided the focus for the energies and kept the ward field stable, but his peacock stone was the actual interface through which Stiles could change the settings. And boy, did they need changing now.

"Good boy," he praised softly and grinned when Derek pinched his side in retaliation.

oOo

Stiles and Derek both slept until the afternoon the next day, knowing that the party preparations were in capable hands. They were only required to pick up an order at the Greek place on their way over. The rest of the food was somebody else's business.

"I'm getting nervous," Stiles said as they drove the last few miles to Peter's apartment. Around them, food was piled up high and smelling good enough to make both of them drool. "Isn't there something we can do to, I dunno, encourage a wolf spirit to choose their intended host? Maybe a séance or something?"

"As far as I know, there's no rhyme or reason to the way a host will respond to the invasion of a wolf spirit," Derek replied. "But I'd have loved someone like you there for Paige. You've done a lot of magical things; you might've been able to help her … even if it was only to ease her pain."

"That only makes me feel a little better," Stiles complained. "What happened with Paige was pure BS, and I sort of regret not offing at least Ennis when I had the chance, but it won't happen again. Not while we've got anything to say about it."

Derek stared ahead for a second before he quietly asked, "Would you consider trying to design a healing card for turnings?"

Stiles grimaced. "I wanna say yes, but I'm afraid of fucking with the natural order, or fate, or something. Healing is one thing since the supernatural community uses those cards on its members first and potentially fatal injuries were likely caused by psycho hunters. Helping a turning along, though … that would mean more weres in the long run. A lot more weres if we take the natural drive to enlarge packs and help sick human members and even friends into consideration. It could become a bargaining chip as well and I can't even begin to imagine what that would mean for supernatural politics."

"Are you thinking about how those numbers would impact the ecosystem?" Derek sighed.

"Not just the ecosystem, but you guys do eat a lot and it has to come from somewhere," Stiles agreed, even though he didn't like to play that card. Humans in first world countries were hardly any better, after all. "I'm actually more concerned about involuntary exposure to the public at the moment. You guys are not subtle and the more unsubtle furballs are running around, the more the secret will be endangered. The Council is a concern; I don't wanna be killed one day for bringing about Ragnarök or something."

"So you won't make such a card?" Derek asked.

Stiles didn't like how resigned he sounded. "Dude, of course I will. But we'll have to talk about it before we offer this to anyone else … provided I can even do it."

"If anyone can, it's you," Derek said matter-of-factly.

"Thanks, dude, I hope you're right." Stiles drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in a nervous tattoo. "After Lydia and Jackson, I'm totally fine with helping victims of attacks. Heck, I'd also be good with offering heavy-duty medical services to sick people so they won't have to get the bite in the first place. How we're gonna do that without losing control of the magic or inciting the wrath of The Council, I've no idea, but it's something I'd like to think about before diving in."

"You already developed failsafes so hunters won't be able to abuse your merchandise," Derek pointed out. "Why would it be any different to put in a failsafe against uncontrolled turnings?"

They arrived at Peter's building and Stiles had to table the discussion in favour of parking the Jeep and carrying the boatload of food through the front door and into the elevator without an accident. Lou's strength helped, but even he was kept busy counteracting Stiles' natural clumsiness.

Fortunately, they did make it into the apartment without mishap and were promptly relieved of their delicious burden. Everyone seemed to present already, even Jackson's parents and, to Stiles' surprise, Dr Lee. Next to the doctor, Stiles' dad was supervising the flurry of activity in the den, standing like a boulder amidst the rushing waves.

"Don't be alarmed," the doctor said kindly after Stiles had greeted his pumped friends and exclaimed over the beautifully arranged buffet. "Peter had me sign an amendment to my contract, of course. I merely wish to understand the procedure so I'll know what to look out for if there are ever any cases admitted to the hospital. I think you'd like to know when that happens."

"Yeah, good thinking," Stiles admitted, flushing a little with shame at his initial reaction. "I'm sorry, Peter just keeps surprising me with the people he brings in. I just gotta ask ... are Erica and Boyd okay with having you at their turning party?"

Dr Lee nodded. "Yes, of course. Peter got written permission from them both, as well as Miss Reyes' parents. I was informed that Mr Boyd's guardian won't be brought into the fold as she is deeply religious and would be … disturbed by these events."

"Yeah, that's been difficult for Boyd, but Erica's parents think he hung the moon, so he's got them at least," Stiles said.

Isaac appeared by his side and said, "Do you wanna check out the nest we've made for Erica and Boyd? Erica loved that you did it for me and wants your opinion before we begin."

Brightening, Stiles agreed and a few seconds later he was staring at the completely covered suede couch. It looked like a super decadent yet somehow childish divan, or maybe a cloud any kid would feel safe to sleep in.

"Don't laugh," Erica said shyly, "I brought my favourite blankies from home, and I also made Boyd get his." She squeezed her boyfriend's hand and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. "If his granny can't be here, he should at least have something from home with him, right?"

Stiles admired the Boyd quilt and nodded. "Definitely. This looks amazing, just look at the stitching! What's underneath your blankies?"

"Peter insisted on a layer of waterproofing, in case a wound bleeds a lot," Danny said as he joined them. "I can't blame him, that couch cost at least a couple grand. Underneath are half a dozen fluffy comforters for softness, though."

"It's still pretentious," Stiles muttered rebelliously.

"You're only judging that couch so hard because it doesn't look comfy enough for making out," Lydia stated, having sneaked up on them like a ninja. She pursed her fire-engine red lips. "Which is completely true. Therefore, your aversion is valid."

"You're my new best friend," Stiles declared, only to receive a cuff to the back of his head by a passing Derek. "Ouch!"

Next came Peter. Their greeting had been necessarily short, almost perfunctory, but now he was leaning in and purring into Stiles' ear, "Still playing fast and loose with your affections, darling?"

Stiles grinned, giddy at the small, forbidden touch of their hands between their bodies. "Always."

"Oh, you two are making me blush," Erica cooed. She looked at her watch. "Oh, wow, it's almost six! Should we go over the ceremony one last time? We've laid everything out already, but I'm so nervous. I don't want anything to go wrong at the last minute."

Stiles beamed at her. "Anything for you, Catwoman. This is your and Boyd's day and we'll make sure that it's perfect."

End of chapter 77