Epilogue

A warm breeze blew through the clearing as Stiles sat in the shade under the sapling that was sprouting from the centre of the Nematon's stump. The energy that Stiles had channelled through it six months earlier had reawakened the tree, and the physical presence of a new sapling was only part of all everything that had happened following that day. The violent manifestation of Stiles' Spark and the sudden revival of such a powerful entity had caused crazy weather patterns and instability in the local ley lines. Or so Deaton had explained.

Still. It had been one thing to see the fat, fluffy snowflakes falling from the sky only to disappear as a damp smudge on the hot California pavement, and quite another thing to be able to See the lines of power spider-webbing out from the centre of the clearing in the Preserve. The crackling energy that had taken over Stiles' body and been channelled into the tree stump had actually been magical power, the kind that had been in Beacon Hills for centuries – even longer than actual people had lived in the region. Deaton had told him that all the energy had been drained away when the tree had been cut down and it had resulted in an imbalance of power, which had likely been the reason why it had been a hotbed of supernatural activity in the last few decades. Stiles had made a joke about bringing balance to the Force that naturally the stoic vet hadn't responded to, although Derek had bit off a chuckle from beside him.

Deaton wouldn't tell him where he had gotten all the power from in the first place, choosing instead to arch a brow magnificently at Stiles and turning back to his books. Not one to let things go, Stiles continued to prod and pry throughout all the lessons that he took with Deaton. Six months later, he still didn't have a solid, concrete idea but he was starting to believe that he knew what had happened and why the vet wasn't saying anything about it. Some things are just better left unexamined, Stiles thought wistfully. Because when you start looking too hard at things, sometimes they start looking back at you.

He thought it might have something to do with the experience in the clearing that he had with his mother, and the story she told him of pieces in motion on a giant chessboard being controlled by...something else. If It had the power to not only bring him back to life, but also Derek and the enormous well of power that was the Nematon, well. Stiles believed It would make Itself known if and when It chose to, and there was no sense in poking the bear as it were.

Stiles sighed, reaching out and gently correcting the latest ley line he and Deaton were working on. Deaton was teaching him how to maintain and strengthen the network of power lines that branched out from the stump. They were trying to shape their natural paths to different points throughout the Hale territory to better protect the Pack. While Stiles had been dismayed at first when he learned that being a Spark meant that he didn't have his own magic, he could still call upon the magic that's all around him as long as he had access to a ley line. Kinda like Pyro, from X-men, he thought. I can't create it but I can manipulate it.

By the time he finished the work Deaton had set out for him, he was sweating. Deaton had warned him that his physical limitations would impact how much he was able to use magic, but Stiles was still caught off guard sometimes by how draining it could be.

Luckily for him, another benefit to having the Nematon recharged was that he could use it to top up his energy reserve occasionally. He tapped into the well of power below him and gathered some of the excess power to himself. Much better, he thought. Still gonna need to take a hot shower after sitting here all day. My back is killing me.

Leaves rustled to his right and he swung his attention over to a tall man walking out from the depths of the forest. He perked up when he recognized that it was Derek. He stood, stretching, and walked towards him. Derek wrapped his arms around him when they met partway across the clearing.

"Hi," Stiles said, leaning into Derek's embrace. Derek cupped his hand on the back of Stiles' neck, subtly leeching some of his pain away, dark lines travelling up his forearm.

"Hi," Derek said back, like the giant dork that he was. He ducked his head down to hide his blush and Stiles took the opportunity to peck a kiss on his cheek. The blush intensified.

They had had a few months to discuss what everything meant – this whole Mates thing – and they had both decided to take things slow for now. That meant dating like the teenagers that they were, nothing more serious for now. Stiles' dad had half threatened to start carrying wolfsbane bullets if anything unseemly happened. For reasons being primarily that he was the Sheriff and following the law was kind of his job, Stiles' dad had imposed an edict that Derek had to wait until Stiles was 18 for, and Stiles quotes, "all that mate stuff and Everything it entailed", emphasis not his own.

It only meant a little less than a year though. He had turned 17 in the weeks following The Incident, as Stiles referred of it. He was pretty sure his dad knew that Derek was sneaking into his room every night – for sleep only! - but he hadn't said anything thus far.

The Winchesters had left town a few days after the Incident, after someone named Bobby had called them and said something about finding out where someone named Eve was hiding. Dean had done the big brother posturing to Derek, promising to turn him into a wolf-skin rug if anything happened to Stiles on his watch, and Sam had assured the Sheriff that they would be spreading the word around the area to have their type of Hunter stay as far away from Beacon Hills as possible. Both men promised to keep in touch, and Castiel had waved awkwardly from the back seat as the three of them drove away.

Since then, Derek had been helping Stiles work with his Spark, and Stiles had been in turn helping Derek stay anchored enough that he was able to look at expanding the pack beyond just Scott. Peter had taken off without a word, as an Omega or so Derek suspected. He had technically died from his injuries for a few minutes when Derek was resurrected, which meant that the Alpha power had been transferred to Derek, and Derek's newly acquired Alpha status had jump started Peter's healing process enough that he was revived, albeit without the power he become accustomed to. Stiles had a feeling that Peter was staying away out of shame and embarrassment more than anything and would eventually rejoin the Pack after he finished licking his wounds, but Derek was still sour about the whole situation.

Stiles had learned from Deaton that Derek's family had been responsible for protecting the Nematon for centuries and with the ley lines and power nodes stabilized under Beacon Hills again, Deaton thought that Derek should look to start reinforcing his status as Alpha and start training some more Betas for the Pack.

With Stiles' and Deaton's help, Derek sought out some new members of the pack, ensuring that they fully understood the risk they were taking and the secret they had to keep. Derek didn't want another teenage like Scott being handed something he (or she) wasn't ready for.

It was difficult trying to keep the supernatural a secret to everyone else in Beacon Hills while still ensuring that potential new pack members were fully informed, but at the end of a highly selective vetting process (and Stiles made that pun on purpose, to every one. Several times), there were three new werewolves running around the Preserve on the full moon. Strong and silent Boyd, rowdy and raunchy Erica who had come out of her shell following the bite, and shy Isaac who still flinched at loud noises but was already starting to do better thanks to the careful work Derek was doing with him. They were all far from perfect, and there had been a fair share of snarls and broken furniture in the days leading up to their first full moon, but after a couple months things were starting to settle into a worn and familiar routine.

"Are the puppies are tuckered out after their lessons today?" Stiles asked. "Did they all collapse into a giant pile of adorable? I need pictures."

Derek answered with a playful growl, grabbing Stiles around the waist and throwing him over his shoulder.

"What did I tell you about the dog jokes," he said, turning and heading back towards the path where Stiles' Jeep was parked.

"That they were hilarious, and I was to be making them at all times – ooof!" Stiles laughed as Derek shrugged Stiles off of his shoulder and onto the ground. Derek kept walking back to the car. "Oh c'mon Sourwolf. You love me."

"I do," agreed Derek, smiling down at the boy. "But not the dog jokes."

Stiles got up and dusted off his pants. "Fine, alright. Last one back to the Jeep is a Sourwolf!" With a laugh he sprinted off through the woods, weaving in and out of the trees like a fleeing hare. Derek growled and went to pursue him but found that his feet were rooted deeply to the ground.

"Stiles!" he called out. "Even with a head start, you're not going to win."

More laughter filtered through the trees. "I'm not afraid of the big bad wolf!"

Suddenly the magical hold on him was released and Derek could move his feet again. He tipped his head back and howled with pleasure before taking off through the forest after his prey.

Fin.