It's the various noises echoing throughout the large manor that awakens Stiles from his deep sleep. For the first time in years, Stiles has slept undisturbed from nightmares. Amber gold eyes slowly open, as his thick eyelashes flutter against his cheekbones as he tries to force the heavy fog from his mind. His ears catch the sounds of numerous feet running, or walking, down the hardwood flooring hallways, before thumping loudly against the wooden staircase. The next thing he hears is the hollering, talking, and argumentative voices that seem to encase the large home. The house is filled with life and the sounds of children's voices. It brings a sad smile to his lips, at the sound of innocence.

How long has it been since he has heard such a sound?

Too long, he thinks to himself sadly.

Stiles inhales deeply as he slowly pushes himself to a seated position and allows the fluffy and warm comforter to slide into his lap. He can smell bacon, sausages, pancakes, and eggs cooking as he inhales the delicious smells once again. His stomach growls loudly in return. When was the last time he ate? He can't recall. He inhales deeply again at the scent of home cooked breakfast and sinks back into the soft and fluffy comforter that he wraps around himself like a cocoon.

He feels comfortable, for the first time in a very long time, Stiles doesn't feel the harshness of a cold and unforgiving ground. He doesn't feel the constant heightened awareness, always on alert for the next Big Bad. All he feels at that moment is protection and home. It brings tears to his glassy eyes. This sense of love, warmth, and care, he hasn't felt this sort of safety since the Pack. He squeezes his eyes shut tightly and forces the sudden tightness in his chest away. He exhales heavily as he forces himself to sit back up in the Queen sized bed.

Stiles' feet touch the soft shaggy carpet and curls his toes inwards at the sensation. He looks down to see a pair of slippers that would be about his size, and chuckles. He glances over at the nightstand to see a small vial filled with a liquid of some sort, likely a potion to rid of aches and pains, and a glass of water placed there. This has to be Harley Hale's doing. From the small stories he has heard, when Jackson and Malia actually desired to speak of their mother, or when Peter felt like talking about his wife, or Derek and Cora talking about their Aunt, she was often known to make guests in her home feel as comfortable as possible.

He grabs the vial and pops the stopper off and gives the contents a sniff. Vanilla and Jasmine, it is a potion to relieve aches and pains. A small smile curls his lips as he tosses the potion back like a shot of alcohol. The healing warmth occurs immediately as it swarms through his body and relieves his headache and the throbbing pains from being tossed back into the Past.

Standing from the bed, Stiles follows his nose. He walks through the doorway and into the hallway. His footsteps are slow and quiet against the hardwood floors. From where he stands, at the top of the staircase, he can hear the sounds of Saturday morning cartoons playing on the television in the family room. Further towards the back of the house, in the kitchen he had walked through the night before, he can hear voice talking - or arguing - rather. Slowly, Stiles makes his way down the staircase to the first floor.

" - I'm seventeen mom, I don't need yours or dad's permission to date someone," a young male voice is saying. His tone sounds frustrated and annoyed. It's the type of infliction in his voice that all teenagers hold in regards to their parents using their parental power over them. Which means, Harley is concerned and worried about her son dating someone.

Stiles wryly smiles, what he wouldn't give to have his father around trying to use his parental abilities over him. It makes his heart ache for his parents and step-siblings. He continues to walk down the stairs in the same meandering trek he began with. While overhearing the argument in the kitchen, he can see that there is a large group of children crowded around on the couches and armchairs. The youngest of those children are sitting around a six seater child table that appears hand built and painted with Disney characters. In front of them are what looks to be blank pieces of printer paper and crayons. At the corner of one of the couches, where Stiles can only see the back of the head of a young boy with light brown hair, probably about ten years old, is an infant baby girl in a Graco Simple Sway. The same child he saw the night before, that Peter had been trying to sooth.

Stiles turns away from the living room, and looks to the kitchen, where the voices continue to speak.

"You do when the person in question is twelve years older than you, married, and has a son." Harley responds back with a rising undertone. It's clear that her patience is dwindling.

"Chris is dating Mark, who's the same age as Andy," the teenager says in reply. Stiles can only imagine him crossing his arms in his frustration, with a sullen angry expression.

"Your behavior in this discussion," Harley replies sarcastically, "is exactly why I'm not going to allow you to continue to see your father's associate." She clicks the stovetop off as she finishes plating the last dish for breakfast. "Let alone see a man who is married with a son," she stresses out with a sigh. "Your father and I will be having words with Christopher too, regarding who he's dating," she adds with a stern look to her oldest child.

"It's hypercritical," the teen didn't seem to be done with his argument. "You and dad had Chris and I when you were still sixteen," he retorts. "You didn't turn seventeen until two months after we had been born and dad didn't turn seventeen until five months later!"

Harley roughly sighs as her green eyes flash with barely contained anger at her son and his continued arguing. "Yes, and we fought in a war Thomas," she says brusquely. "By the time your father and I had met, I was the General in the war," she continues while forcefully setting the pans into the sink to be cleaned after breakfast, causing loud bangs and clangs to echo in the kitchen. "I grew up too quickly. I was more mature than most teenagers my age. So don't give me this crap. Until you show me you're mature enough to date someone older than you, save me the drama."

"This is bullshit!" The teenager exclaims before storming out of the kitchen.

"That went well," Peter's voice dryly remarks, the sound of the back door shutting with a click of the lock, reaches Stiles' ears.

Harley sighs in exasperation. It's clear she's fed up with teenage angst. "How did the talk with Talia go?" She asks, while ignoring the redundant remark her husband made.

"Well, she definitely seems exasperated, but she says she'll call for a Family Gathering," Peter replies as he helps his wife finish setting the food platters onto the kitchen counter, so the platters can be taken into the dining room.

"Kids!" Harley calls out, "Come help set the table!" She doesn't have to wait long, before the sound of the children, old enough to help, come walking or running to the kitchen.

Stiles never really considered the reason why Peter and Harley were young parents. For a couple only in their mid-thirties, they still have an appearance of youth. It's common for supernatural creatures to age much slower than Mortals. Humans, related to supernatural creatures, even if they themselves aren't supernatural, will still generally age slower, but not as slowly as supernatural creatures. It is something in their DNA that makes it this way. It's why the Hales, which is Talia and Peter's family, live out in the Preserve in Beacon Hills. Or why their siblings mainly live in the Preserve in their own towns, in whatever state they live in. Every Preserve has a Nemeton, which attracts supernatural creatures, and protects them all from being noticed by the Mortals, who have no relation to the supernatural community.

"This is a normal morning in the Potter-Hale residence," a voice remarks from behind Stiles, disturbing the mentally older man from his thoughts.

Stiles would deny it, but he yelps loudly and jumps nearly a foot in the air, at the sudden and abrupt voice behind him. "Dude!" He exclaims loudly. His hand grips his chest over his pounding heart and turns to face the person that surprised him. "Don't do that," he gasps out with a rough exhale of air. He would have thought he was used to supernatural creatures creeping up behind him, either to try and kill him or purposefully scare him, but it's been so long since he's had someone from his pack try to scare him, that it sends a jolt of heartache through his chest.

"Sorry," the young boy replies, although he doesn't truly sound sorry. If anything, he looks amused. It's kind of creepy, how alike he appears to what a young Peter Hale must have looked like. "I'm Peter," the fourteen-year-old introduces himself, "the Junior one that is," he adds at the flabbergasted expression on Stiles' face.

So this is Peter Jr, he thinks to himself with shock. He remembers him being mentioned as the best friend of Derek's younger brother, Roderick. He also recalls Peter Senior mentioning it was Junior who talked Derek into getting Paige the Bite by the Alpha Ennis. The fact that Peter Junior was, and is, just as manipulative as his father, doesn't surprise Stiles.

The fact that there are currently two Peter's in the world, it is clearly going to be a danger to his sanity. This Peter Junior certainly has enough mannerisms of the Peter Senior, that he isn't surprised they look like they could have been twins. The only difference between them is the eyes and hair color. Junior has the same beautiful green eyes as his mother and the same raven black hair.

"And you must be Stiles," Junior adds with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah...that's me." Stiles replies with a slow cautious nod. He assumes Harley and Peter had mentioned him to their children.

Peter Jr. chuckles at his expression. "Mom and Dad mentioned we had a guest named Stiles. My younger siblings are really interested in meeting you," he says as he leads Stiles through the kitchen doorway. The kitchen is complete chaos. There are children from ages nine to seventeen grabbing dishes, plates, silverware, napkins, cups, pitchers full of juices, water, and milk, and platters full of delicious smelling breakfast foods. They all walk through a doorway on the far left of the kitchen that leads into a dining room where an absolutely massive table, big enough to fit at least two dozen people, is placed.

"Come on, through here." Peter Jr, or P.J. as Stiles decides to call him in his head, says as he walks through the chaos with ease. Stiles follows, dodging left and right, as the younger children from ages two to six run pass. P.J. sits down at the table, near another boy maybe a year older, which would make him fifteen-years-old. He has raven black hair, bright green eyes, and tan skinned that clearly shows he spends his time outdoors.

"Took you long enough," the older boy remarks with a glance from where he lays with his head cradled between his arms. His eyes look bloodshot and exhaustion is obvious on his face.

"You look like shit." P.J. responds dryly as he ignores his older brother's remark. His green eyes sparkle with amusement at his older brother's plight.

"Fuck off," the older boy grumbles as he closes his eyes. He seems to easily ignore the chaos going on around him.

P.J. looks over at Stiles with a smirk. "The big lug beside me is my older brother Marcus, everyone calls him Mark or Marky -"

"Call me that and I will gut you." Marcus replies gruffly. He doesn't open his eyes or stir, but the threat is clear in his voice.

"He hangs out with our cousin Derek, a lot. They're best friends, since they're the same age and don't live that far away. They both have this weird obsession to cause bodily harm to people," P.J. says with a bright grin. "They're also on the basketball team together," he smirks as he adds, "they're a pair of ignoramus'."

Stiles looks between the two teenagers with a bemused shake of his head. The way P.J. acts reminds him of the way he acts with his older half-siblings. It makes him ache for those long-forgone times that are now forever out of his reach.

"Anyways," P.J. begins as he snaps Stiles out of his musings. "Let me introduce you to my large and insane family," he says with a sigh of one far too used to doing so. "My Koala eared brother," P.J. gestures to an older boy, about seventeen-years-old, who sits a few chairs away from them. He's dressed in all black, from the band shirt, skinny jeans, and converse high top shoes. His ears are rather large, Stiles sees, but not as large as P.J. is remarking. There are earbuds in them, in which he can only assume music is playing. "Is my god-brother, Leo. Mom adopted him and his sister Cassie, who lives in California for college, when their parents died when they were kids," he says with a shrug.

"My other god-brother Teddy is away at college in California with Cassie, even though he's only sixteen. He's freaky smart and graduated High School when he was like twelve." P.J. remarks with a shrug.

"Over there," Peter Jr. points to two identical twin boys, "are my oldest brother's. The one that looks like he belongs with the reject stoners is TJ. The one beside him, that looks like a prep, is Chris."

Stiles studies the twins, and notices that both of them have short dark brown hair and bright blue eyes. It was impossible to tell the difference between them, except for the way they dressed themselves. TJ's hair is messily mused, as if he had just crawled out of bed and decided not to brush it. Instead, it looks like he just ran his fingers through his hair. It appears that he also had thrown on the first item of clothes that he found clean. He wore form fitting naturally torn jeans with a studded belt, a plain white undershirt with a black long sleeved button down shirt, that was not buttoned up, and a green denim jacket over that.

Chris is dressed the polar opposite. His hair is perfectly styled and his outfit seems chosen to perfection. He wears a light blue Oxford cotton button down shirt, with a black blazer, tan khakis, and light blue canvas sneakers. He is the definition of a preppy boy that someone would see at a Private School, not a public school like Beacon Hills.

"My sister," P.J. gestures towards a young preteen girl with long raven black hair and brilliant blue eyes. She looks to be around twelve-years-old, nearing the cusps of being a teenager. She sits beside a younger looking Jackson and Malia. "is Amaranth, but everyone calls her Amara or Mara. She's really smart too, but is generally consumed with her artistry stuff," the teen besides Stiles explains. There's a sketchbook in front of the younger girl with a charcoal pencil in her left hand as she sketches. She appears completely consumed with her sketching and blocking out the noise in the dining room.

"Beside her is Jackson, he loves Lacrosse and reading books of all kinds." Stiles can see that Jackson looks to be about ten years old. His hair is the same light brown color as when he was an adult, but now it's unruly and his eyes are a brighter blue. He looks happy, there's a bright joyful glint in his blue eyes and an amused smile curling his lips upward. Seeing Jackson happy is something that Stiles rarely saw when they were together and had a pack.

"Malia loves the outdoors and can be found hanging out with our cousin Cora." Malia looks to be about nine years old, if not a little younger, making her about seventeen months younger than Jackson. She has the same dark brown hair and hazel eyes he remembers from when she was an adult too. She also looks happier than Stiles ever remembers seeing her. There's a bright smile gracing her lips and a sparkle in her eyes, as she bickers playfully with Jackson.

"Then there's the second set of twins," he nods towards twin girls with light brown hair and bright sea green eyes. "Iris and Ivy. They're little terrors." P.J. says with a shake of his head. It's clear from where Stiles sits, that the girls look to be about six years old, and appear to be conspiring together. He watches as they giggle and sneak glances around the room as they talk. He can definitely see a pranking spirit in them both.

"Then there's James, but we all call him Jaime or Jim," he gestures towards a little boy of about four years old. He has dark brown hair and hazel eyes like Malia. He sits on a booster seat, and seems very proud of that fact. "He's as mischievous as Iris and Ivy. He tends to follow them around. Not that they mind." As P.J. says this, James reaches out with a hand and taps his sister's closet to him and says something to the two girls that has them giving the younger boy a high five and proud smiles.

"In the high chair is Alexander, but everyone called him Al." Alexander has the same raven black hair and bright green eyes that Marcus, Peter Jr, and Harley have. He seems content to sit in his high chair, beside Peter Senior and watch quietly at the madness that consists of his older siblings.

"The baby in the swing is Lily, our youngest and last sibling. She's six months old." Stiles can see that she has light brown hair and blue eyes like Jackson. She appears awake at the moment, staring around the room with wide eyes, as her swing is set at a gentle swaying motion.

"You have a large family," Stiles finally says after he finally swallows the lump that sits in his throat. It's so much more comprehensible, when faced with the living breathing factors of racism and hate, that led to the annihilation of what used to be the biggest Pack in North America. Especially after Talia married Jeremy Danvers, the Alpha of the North American Were-Shifter Pack, one of the largest packs in the world, before the Argents started hunting anyone connected to the Hale's down. It upsets and infuriates Stiles, to know that out of this side of the Hale's family, only three of them ended up surviving over the six years the Hunters had eliminated the Hale's with extreme prejudice. His stomach curls with disgust at the knowledge. He has a little better understanding now, of why Peter Senior went insane. Considering the man rarely, if ever, brought up the children and wife he lost due to it.

"Well yeah," P.J. replies with a scoff of amusement after he chews and swallows the food in his mouth, "This what happens when you're Mated to your True Mate," he says with a curious glint in his beautiful green eyes, "You do know about True Mates right?" He asks curiously.

Stiles is quiet, as silent as he can be, for a moment, as his mind races over everything he's ever read about True Mates. They're supposedly two halves of a whole. That when they're finally connected, Mated on a particular day and time, they become whole again. They share both power and intellect, among other things, that make True Mates particularly dangerous to face against. True Mates have a strong, nearly overpowering urge for their bodies to continue their lineage. Children of True Mates are always gifted and powerful. These children are often very powerful and intelligent, with abilities that were once recessive now becoming more dominant. Anyone would be fortunate enough to Mate with a child of True Mates.

"Yeah," Stiles replies with a nod of his head, "I know about True Mates."

"Well, then you know True Mates are two parts of a whole soul. They complete each other and often can't get enough of each other." P.J. says as he takes a bite of his strawberry pancakes. "Mom's always wanted a big family, especially since her parents were murdered when she was a baby and her godfather's and their spouses were also murdered," he adds as he looks at the guest of his mother and father's. "Dad will do anything mom asks, even if it's making a big family. They started really young and finally decided that a dozen kids, plus three adopted kids, was enough."

Stiles took a drink of his apple juice as he thought over what Peter Junior had told him. It makes sense, in a way, of why Peter and Harley Hale have such a large family. It also makes sense why Talia and her Mate Jeremy have such a large family too. From what he remembers, Derek had eight siblings. He had fibe older siblings that included Laura and three young siblings that included Cora. He can't imagine such a large family living under one roof. His parents had both been married at one point, before divorcing their former spouses, in which they had children with them. It was years later that his mom and dad met and fell in love and had him, and it's only ever been him. He didn't see his half-siblings much, since they live with their respective mom or dad and only ever came for summer breaks and certain holidays.

"I can't imagine having that many siblings." Stiles finally said with a shake of his head.

P.J. scoffs a laugh and grins. "Dad often questions mom's sanity. He had bet her that she wouldn't be able to handle a football player worth of children." A smirk grew wide across his face as amusement made his green eyes sparkle, "I think mom had twelve kids just to spite him and win that bet. Mom has always been rather competitive and takes challenges to the extreme." The fifteen-year-old snickers suddenly as he swallows his bite of egg. "You should get mom and dad to tell you about some of the bets she's done, because she was challenged to do so." There's a pause as he tilts his head to the side. "I wouldn't be surprised if she was certifiably insane and that's where we get it from," he takes a stab of bacon before adding, "then again dad is probably crazy too because he went along with most of her ideas."

Stiles can only shake his head in silence as he continues to eat his delicious breakfast. He has a feeling that this whole family, not just the Potter-Hale family, is insane if some of the stories Derek told him are true, and from what P.J. is implying, they likely are. He can only hope that what sanity he has left, will remain after he's truly introduced to them all. Otherwise he is well and truly fucked.

Author Note: Please keep in mind that this story is very AU. As mentioned in Stiles' ruminations, the Hale Fire occurred and some of their family did die, but the rest of the Hale Family, which was one of the largest wereshifter packs in the world, was nearly annihilated. What you think you know about the Hales and Potter-Hales, is deeper than what the show spoke about. It's worst than the show and I will be showing that in later chapters.

I hope you all like Peter Junior. He's rather fun to write. I imagine P.J. as how Peter was in the show (since this Peter is actually a mature adult, for the most part), P.J. looks like the actor from the show and acts like that Peter.

Also, if you don't like this story idea, you don't have to read it. Feel free to stop now and move on. I came up with this whole story idea from a dream, and I'm just filling in the gaps. But the war Harley fought in, with the Hales assistance, was much worst than the books. Harley had a shit, terrible life that she still has the mental, emotional, and physical scars from. In canon Harry was essentially removed the war and mainly spent his time camping but in this story, she doesn't get off that easy. So you'll going to see the horror and trauma that she and the adult Hale's experienced in later chapters, as it's not so obviously shown yet. Just keep this in mind, when future chapters occur.

TheWeepingRaven