Letters from home

by alikatastic

Stiles is having issues with his spark, and it's embarrassing. After weeks of searching for answers, Stiles grows desperate. He's already dug through Peter's Library, but he didn't find anything, and he knew he shouldn't have been in the other man's closet. He also knew he probably shouldn't have read the letters in the back.

The letters had been hidden in the back of the closet, and Stiles knew he shouldn't have been snooping, but he couldn't help it. His spark had been acting up, and he needed answers. Deaton was his usual cryptic self, and Stiles couldn't bring himself to ask Peter. He was too embarrassed to tell the other man he had been creating rainstorms every time he had a little alone time. He had been searing for books for weeks, and nothing in Peter's library was helping. He was in the closet as a last-ditch effort to find any information, and they were tossed in a box as if they held no importance. Stiles dug to the bottom for the first letter of many with shaking fingers.

Dearest Nephew,

You have once again left your family behind, or moreover, I am no longer family, and again, you cared not for the consequences of your actions.

Indeed I can not be surprised. It is ingrained in us, the Hales, to run from our problems. Or it has been since the fire took the best of us. We can never live up to the ones we have lost. Surely though, you know that. That is why once again, you have left me in this godforsaken town.

The only spark of hope is the ones you left behind, more the one you left behind.

Peter Hale

Stiles' heart clenched at the words beautifully written across the paper. The words were scathing and harsh, but Stiles could read between the lines. He felt betrayed all over again, the only family he had left him behind, again. Stiles strained his ears, making sure he was still alone. Peter had obviously not sent the letters for one reason or another, and Stiles did not want to be caught reading them.

Nephew,

I penned a letter to you, but as you undoubtedly are aware, it was never sent. It came from a place of anger, and I know you understand that things said in anger are tainted with hyperbole. I have decided I can no longer live and breathe anger. There must be more interesting things in this world I can occupy my time with. I have lost nearly a decade of my life, and I refuse to lose anymore.

There are many failures I can take the burden of and a few that fall on your shoulders, but leaving is not one. I understand the desire to go and never look back, and shortly I will be following your lead. You may never see me again, and I understand that may be one of the best things you have heard in a long time.

Peter Hale

"What the hell do you think you are doing?"

Stiles nearly jumped into the air, his heart rate slamming through the roof. "I…."

Peter snatched the letters from his hands with a snarl on his lips. "Do you think it's funny? Will you blackmail me, boy?"

"No, I was, no, it's…."

His eyes flared to life. "No point in lying, child; tell me how you plan on using this. How will you try and use me next?"

Stiles scrambled back as Peter leaned closer. "No, no, Peter, I didn't…."

"Was killing me not enough? My time in Eichen, was it not enough for your pound of flesh?"

"I can't masturbate!"

Peter's eyes fizzled out. "What?"

Stiles looked up at him, panic settling over him like a worn-out blanket. "I can't masturbate." It was more of a whisper as a flush rushed across his skin.

"How does that correlate with you reading my personal properties?"

"I, um," Stiles cleared his throat, sitting heavily on his bottom as he crossed his legs. "Every time I masturbate, storm clouds startup, then it starts to rain, and lightning starts striking all around me. I asked Deaton for answers, but he was his usual asshole self. Then I went through every one of your books I could find, but there was nothing. I need answers."

Peter Leaned against the door jam, arms crossed over his chest. "And that leads you to read my missives, how?"

Stiles trailed his fingers across the letter in front of him. "You never sent them; why?"

Peter stared at him, nothing to say. He didn't need to explain himself, and they both knew that. Stiles was the one invading his privacy. It wasn't up to Stiles to question Peter.

"I mean, you love your nephew. We all know that, so why aren't you trying to fix your relationship?"

Peter sighed; Stiles thought he was probably silently counting to ten. "I don't have his address."

"So, if you had the address, you would send them?" Stiles scoffed; he knew Peter could send them if he genuinely wanted to.

Peter chucked deep in his throat. "No, Derek has not provided me with an address, and I will not ask." Stiles watched him fidget; it was strangely vulnerable, making it hard for Stiles to watch. "If someone else sent them, that might be okay."

A smile stretched across Stiles' face. "You'd let me send them?" His eyes were bright.

Peter rolled his eyes, leaving the room, but his voice echoed down the hall. "I can't stop something I don't know about, darling boy."

It had been surprisingly easy to get an address from Derek. He sent a text. There was no arguing or manipulation, all he needed to do was ask, and for that, Stiles was glad. Derek and Cora were living with a pack in the hills of Costa Rica, and they had a P.O. Box, and Stiles could send the letters. Derek had mentioned that it was only checked monthly, so there would be a delay if it was anything time-sensitive.

Peter rolled his eyes as Stiles stomped through the apartment with a little printer/copier combo under his arm. Stiles didn't wave as he walked by, slamming the door behind him. He had work to do; he had copies to make.

Nephew,

This is not a pack, and I think you knew that. I think you saw the way they acted, the way they treated each other and knew.

I have to wonder if that child can even feel pack bonds. The humans in this so-called pack are more wolf than the damned true alpha. It will be the death of him, and only one other seems to see that, and he is being pushed to the side much like I am.

The demon is gone, but the magic is still there. You can feel it in the air, even taste it when he is close. Instead of nurturing it, the useless alpha had pushed him away, pushed him out.

Peter Hale

Nephew,

There is an intruder in the territory. Indeed, you would think the alpha would put his pack ahead of others, ahead of a newcomer. This boy comes with no answers, no explanations.

The spark knows. He has always been the clever one, and once again, he proves it. He has the instincts of a wolf, or more a fox, and he trusts them. After the possession, one would think he could no longer trust his instincts, but he does.

The newcomer, Theodore, has Stiles in his sights. I am unsure of his plans, but the pack does not see it. They are blinded by the alpha's enthusiasm. His blind trust.

Once again, I ponder if I should kill him and take mercy on the pack and cut out the rotten alpha. I will not, though, wait and see how it plays out.

Peter Hale

Derek, I have to tell you that Peter did not kill Scott, and I can't blame him for the thought. At the time, I could have strangled him. ~ Stiles

Nephew,

I will kill him. This will be my final letter, as it will be suicide. The McCall brat will retaliate with the majority of the pack. Nonetheless, I will kill Theodore and leave his body on the sheriff's doorstep.

There is nothing more to say except a request. Please ensure Stiles has the keys to my condo. The bills are paid, and the way things are going with his father, he will need a place to live.

That is if you come back at the news of my death. There is only a chance you will read this, but I find myself hoping.

Hoping that the bond we have as a family will allow you to mourn, even just for a moment.

With Thanks

Peter Hale

Derek,

He means well, and I appreciate him coming to my defense. I am glad it all came to an end, my dad and Peter intact. I wished you were here, but you were not my first thought.

I'm surprised that Peter didn't brag that I came to him. I clung to him, and after my dad got out of the hospital, I didn't stop coming around.

I made friends with your crazy uncle Der-Bear. What am I supposed to do?

~Stiles

Nephew Mine,

I survived. The sheriff survived. And even the stupid McCall Pup survived; he was the final goal of Theodore. He could not take the true alpha spark.

The boy and his father have invited me to dinner. I will not go, and I know they do not expect me to be there. They are trying to repay me for the hospital bills, but they do not understand it was the least I could do.

I could not stop the boy from being attacked and retaliating in self-defense. I could not wash the blood or guilt from his hands, it is a stain that he must live with now, and I find myself regretting it.

If I had acted sooner, the boy would not have had to kill to survive. I'm not sure why it bothers me the way it does, but paying the hospital bills is a start to atonement.

Your Uncle

Peter Hale

I wanted him to come to dinner. He did eventually start coming, but it took time. Your uncle is helping me, with my magic and with my mind. I have to admit that I am scared of what it all means. This is the last letter that I have found so far, and it was written weeks ago. If he decides to write another, I will make sure you get it.

We miss you.

~Stiles

Stiles stepped into the condo, looking around. He knew that Peter was there, but the man was not in the sitting area or the kitchen. It was earlier than he would generally come over, but sleep had alluded him.

He shut the door with a quiet snick. He kicked off his shoes, ready to crawl onto the couch, hoping sleep would find him. He pulled the blanket off the back of the couch, wrapping it around himself. Pressing his nose into the soft fabric and breathing deep, he could smell Peter, and that was enough to help him sleep.

Peter heard him come in; he could smell the panic that still clung to his skin. He sat up the moment the door shut, but he waited to see what the boy would do. He heard him kick off his shoes and curl up on the couch. It only took a few minutes, but he had slipped back into sleep.

Peter eased into the sitting room, watching him breathe. He smelled content as he nuzzled the throw pillow propping up his head. Peter's nostrils flared as he took in the boy's scent, honeysuckle, wet soil, and ozone. The way the scent made his heart race, he decided he would start writing letters to Derek again.

He perched on a barstool, pen, and paper in front of him. He tried to pretend that Stiles would not read the letter, that he would not send it to Derek. Before Stiles had found the letters he could write as if no one would ever read his words, he could write what he felt with no shame or embarrassment. Once the letter was complete, he set it on the coffee table to Stiles to find in the morning.

Nephew Mine,

There is a boy on my couch. Daily I question my sanity to give the boy a key, but I seem to talk my way off the ledge. For whatever reason, he seems to believe we have a bond, maybe even a pack bond.

In other news, the boy can masturbate again, small mercies. He was starting to smell stupidly sweet with the sexual tension and carnal desire.

Your Uncle

Peter Hale

Forget that he said that, please. And text me back, you asshole. ~Stiles

Nephew,

Come to kill me. If anything in you loved me or even the boy, you would rip my throat out again.

I do not want to be like this; I do not enjoy being the villain. Do you remember when I was a functioning member of the pack? Remember when I would do homework with the children to train with the new betas? You didn't need to worry about my intentions.

I beg of you, kill me before the sheriff does. There is no hope for me anymore.

The Next Dead Hale

Derek,

He hid this from me, but all is well, or as well as it can be. Dad didn't kill him, and you don't need to either. We could use your help, though. I know you don't want to come back, but people are disappearing. Not even their loved ones remember them.

~Stiles

Derek,

Have I been writing you letters? I'm not sure why, but I feel like I am supposed to be sending you letters.

People are disappearing, leaving no trace of themselves. Not even their loved ones remember them, and I believe I am missing someone.

Every day I get up and go to school, no problem, but when school is over, something strange happens. I go home, but I don't think that is where I am supposed to be.

The couch doesn't smell right. I feel like I am missing something or someone.

Derek, I'm scared. I think I'm next. We need you.

~Stiles

Derek,

It's been three months, or so we have ascertained. My boy found me. His memory may have been foggy, but he knew something was missing. We missed his birthday, his graduation.

With everything that has happened, it makes me wonder whether you noticed. Did you feel the loss of a pack bond? Did you notice the lack of incoming messages from the boy?

Do either of us matter to you at all? Truthfully, I can not blame you for apathy or even disdain, but it does fill me with anger. The boy argues that I am misconstruing hurt for rage, but I have to disagree.

One of these days, maybe I'll let go of the anger.

Peter Hale

Derek,

I think you should call. Even if you want to confirm that you want nothing to do with your uncle (EVEN THOUGH I DON'T BELIEVE IT). He lost his family too, and sometimes I think you forget that. It's understandable, trauma can make you short-sighted, like Peter with his revenge, but something needs to change.

~Stiles

Derek,

There was a witch, and my boy made us proud. I almost wish you were here to see it. Lightning struck her down, and his eyes glowed in the night.

I could taste the magic as plants sprouted from the ground. They grew limbs and roots, pulling her to pieces and pulling what was left of her into the ground.

It was amazing, but my boy was beautiful. My boy did what he needed to do, he protected the pack, but he also mourned the loss of life. He cried as he blessed the earth with her blood and flesh.

The McCall brat threw a fit, though. He raged on about not killing just because we can. We can all see that he does not deserve to be alpha. When a member of your pack risks not only his life but his mind to protect their pack, it is supposed to be celebrated.

I would enjoy nothing less than teaching that imbecile a lesson, but Stiles says it's not worth it. He claims he has a plan, but he won't tell me what it is. He won't even give me a hint, nephew. I can't worry about it, though.

My clever boy has a plan.

Peter Hale

Derek,

I love when he calls me his boy, but I need to remind you that I am nine-teen. I have to tell you this because I have to trust him for my plan to work. I have to trust him with my heart, mind, and body. I have to trust he will do right by not only be, but also my dad and our pack.

We could use you. We miss you.

~Stiles

Derek,

There is nothing left in this world that I have not ruined. I destroy everything with just my touch. I did what I knew I shouldn't. I fucked the boy.

He'd claim that it was his idea. He'd say that he is an adult and can make adult decisions, but none of it matters.

I knew how I felt, I couldn't say it, not even think it, but apparently, I could act on it. I could be the villain I always am and hurt him.

He claims he is not hurt, but I know better. I know who I am, what I am.

Even the sheriff seems to be blinded by his son's optimism. He clapped me on the shoulder, calling me his son's boyfriend. I do not understand Stilinski men, but he told me I am family now. He told me we are pack, even if it is just the three of us.

I should leave and never look back. I will only drag them down, but I do not have the willpower. I am a selfish man; as you know, I want it. I want the boy as my mate. I want them as family, as pack.

We could be a pack of three or, if you ever decided, we could be a pack of five. The sheriff, John, says you and Cora will always be welcome, and I need to share that I feel the same way.

Uncle Peter

Derek,

He is bothered by the age difference. He needs to remember, you as well, that I am not a child. I am nineteen, and I can make my own decisions.

This is my decision. I chose this because I am in love with him. I am so disgustingly in love with that man that I could vomit.

Like it is so gross. I am in unicorns shit glitter, and rainbows, in love with Peter Fucking Hale.

He doesn't see it now, but he will one day.

~Stiles

Derek,

It has been a year, and so much has happened. I must admit that I regularly wish you and Cora had joined us.

Stiles, my love, put his plan into place. McCall fought tooth and nail, but when it came down to it, he couldn't kill me.

Do not worry, I did not kill the true alpha, but I won our land back. The alpha spark, on the other hand, Stiles misappropriated it.

Well, that is not entirely true; the spark was stolen in the first place. Alan Deaton took what did not belong to him and shoved it into a teen with no leadership skills.

That is not why I am writing, though. Nephew, there is going to be a wedding. I know you want nothing to do with me, but I feel as though I need you there.

You and Cora are the last of my family, and my mate loves you. You are a brother to him in the same way Scott McCall is. I'm not sure what you did to deserve it, but I beg you to at least call. Even if it is just to talk Stiles out of the marriage.

I have been trying to for months. I could have said no when he proposed, but I am a weak man. I couldn't turn him down.

I'd also like you to meet my betas. They are strong and loyal, and as an alpha, there is nothing I wouldn't do for them, as long as it did not harm my pack or my mate.

I would like you to meet my left hand, Marcus, who is unbending and efficient, but like my beautiful mate, he understands the beauty of life. He is relativity new to being a wolf, and I would love for you to give him some pointers as you were trained to be a right hand.

I have yet to find a right hand. Stiles has been working himself to the bone, but we haven't found anyone right for the position. Stiles believes, and I agree, that you would be a great fit.

Either way, we would like to see you at the wedding. April 17th.

Uncle Peter

Call your uncle, sourwolf. Don't make me hunt you down and drag you back.

Derek didn't open the letters at first. Even though they were addressed from Stiles, he knew better. Stiles would text or call if he needed something. When he opened the first letter, he debated whether to burn the letters or toss them in his belongings somewhere, forgetting they existed. Derek found that he was just too curious to ignore them. He read each letter when it came in, then re-read them in order in the following days. He didn't know why he did it or why it was so important to him, but they were.

He had started taking the letters with him when he went from place to place. He had been heartbroken when one of his letters got soaked with blood after being shot. He ripped the hunter's heart out with no remorse. He nearly called Stiles asking for another one, but he made his peace with the missing letter.

When the letters stopped coming, he had texted Stiles, making sure everything was okay. Stiles had texted back immediately.

Glad to see you still care, grumpywolf. We are all good, but your uncle would be better if you called or something.

Derek was relieved at his words. Sure, it also made his chest ache with guilt, but there was nothing he could do about it. Well, he could call his uncle, but he wouldn't. He had thought about why Peter had done the things he did, and he had forgiven him, but it didn't matter. Stiles had pointed out how short-sighted he had been, and he felt terrible. Stiles had been right; they had left Peter with no pack, no protection, then judged for how he dealt with it.

The last letter came as a surprise. He didn't think Peter would ever write him again after Derek had never responded. Stiles had included an invitation to their wedding. He could admit that he yearned to see his family again. He had let Cora read the letters during the last year, and she had been itching to reach out to Peter. It was a perfect excuse to go back to Beacon Hills.

He called the sheriff asking about the wedding. He just needed to know if it was a suit affair or if he could wear jeans.

"Hello, Sheriff Stilinski; I wanted to know what kind of attire I need for the wedding."

John was quiet for a moment, making Derek nervous before he cleared his throat. "It's formal attire, son. If I have to wear a tux with tails, you do too."

"Really?" Derek questioned.

"Would I lie to you, kid?"

Cora refused to put on a dress, saying Stiles wouldn't expect her to. Derek, though, knew that he needed to make a better impression. He was the one that betrayed Peter again. He bought the damned tux.

He was going to kill them. The wedding was in the woods, because why wouldn't it be. There were people in sundresses and flowing materials. They looked like they had just stepped out of a strange fae/hippie commune. The moon was bright in the sky, but most lights came from the floating bulbs of magic, shimmering as they moved on the breeze.

He walked into the house, finding the sheriff, who laughed. "Oh, son, I thought you would ask Stiles to confirm."

"Nope, he didn't," Stiles said as he pranced down the stairs. His eyes were bright, and his smile was beautiful. "But he never was one to communicate."

"Hello, to you, too, Stiles." His white shirt, loose around his torso, showing off dozens of rune tattoos. His bare feet slapped on the dark wood of the floor as he stepped closer.

Derek raised his eyebrow at the flower crown perched on his head. "Is that red camellia, aster, daffodil, and amaryllis?"

Stiles brought him into a hug. "You know your flowers," He said with a laugh. He stepped back, giving Derek a slight shove. "Go find a seat; we're about to get started."

He took a seat in the back, smiling when he saw his uncle at the alter. The same chain of flowers hung around his neck as he talked to, who Derek assumed was the officiant. Peter looked out, seeing him. A smile spread across his face as he laughed. He, too, was barefoot, and Derek glanced around, noticing everyone was.

Peter motioned for him to join him. Derek looked around, making sure Peter looked at him; Peter laughed, signaling again. Derek rushed up to the altar, smiling when Peter pulled him into a hug.

"Take that shit off." Peter pulled the coat off, stripping him down to his shirt before kicking off his own shoes. Peter patted him on the cheek. "Stand there and look pretty."

Derek couldn't help the smile on his face as Scott gave him a double thumbs up from the other side of the alter. Everyone's eyes shifted to the other end of the aisle when the music started, a beautiful steel drum rendition of Hungry Like The Wolf. Stiles and the sheriff smiled, walking down the aisle to meet Peter.

The vows were beautiful and something he had never heard before.

"Good evening, everyone. We are here today to bind the souls before us under the moon. We are grounded by the soil under our feet, steady and strong. We plead with mother earth to bloom robust and magnificent as the two before us. We plead with the wind that breathes life into all that is life for everlasting adoration. Peter Ian Hale, do you pledge yourself to the moon, the earth, and your mate?"

"I pledge myself to you.
I pledge to always support you, even when you refuse to let me.
I pledge to stick by your side even in death.
I pledge to encourage you in everything you do, no matter how idiotic it may seem.
I pledge to support you during your journey, no matter where it takes you.
I pledge to be your friend, partner, lover, mate, and alpha."

"Mieczyslaw Geniem Stilinski, do you pledge yourself to the magic within you, the earth, and your mate?"

"I pledge myself to you.
I pledge to always support you, even when you lose sight of what makes you, you.
I pledge to stick by your side even in the face of not only loved ones but enemies and strangers.
I pledge to encourage you in everything you do, under the sight of the moon or the sun.
I pledge to support you during your journey, to better not only yourself but those around you.
I pledge to be your friend, partner, lover, mate, and emissary."

"We stand before friends, partners, lovers, and mates as witnesses as your souls bound together for the rest of eternity, through life and death. Let us mark the beginning of this new journey with a lovers kiss!" Peter cupped Stiles' face, pulling him in for a kiss while everyone cheered.

The rest of the wedding was beautiful. He joined in dancing with the pack-mates that he knew, but most of the crowd was leaving before he knew it. Stiles hopped on his back, rubbing their cheeks together.

"Hey there, sourwolf."

Stiles laughed and hopped off his back when Derek nipped at his jaw. "Get off me, you brat."

Stiles bumped their shoulders together. "I'm glad you could make it. What made you come?"

Derek looked up, seeing Peter making his way towards them. "I heard your alpha needs a right hand, and I might be a good fit."

Peter's smile was blinding. "Let me show you the house, nephew mine."