Chapter 4

No one said anything. At all. For a long time. Stiles almost went insane from the silence and the pressure and the thoughts of Oh my God, Dain's going to find out about this and pin me to a board by my wings like a butterfly in one of those mildly creepy (because, hello, wings) exhibits at the science museum, until finally Isaac spoke up.

He wandered forward slowly, right hand stretching out in front of him as if it had a mind of its own, and his voice was almost dreamy when he asked, "Are they real?"

Stiles jumped back from his approaching hand, only barely managing not to fly up in the air like he had when Derek had made a similar (if not entirely more aggressive) move. "How about we instate a hands-off policy as far as my wings are concerned, 'kay?" His tone was sharper than he'd meant for it to be (Stiles would never admit it, but he was sensitive about his wings, okay?), and Isaac winced a little, quickly pulling his hand back, so Stiles tried to smile at him instead. It was a fumbled attempt but, from the look of relief on Isaac's face and the tentative smile he offered in return, appreciated none-the-less.

"Can you really even call those wings?" And of course Jackson was the next one to wake up. He was doing that I'm-a-jackass-isn't-it-obvious thing, but there wasn't real venom behind it. At this point, it was just habit. "They look like they'd break if I blinked too close to them."

"Hey!" Stiles huffed indignantly because rude (venomous or not). "These babies are unbreakable. You hear me? Unbreakable. They're also sharp enough to chop your head off in one stroke, so I wouldn't test that blinking theory, if I were you."

That was met with resounding silence, and it took Stiles a second to realize what word-vomit he'd spewed all over them. Once he did, he winced, but at least he could be comforted by the fact that people would stop trying to get their paws all over Stiles' wings. Priorities.

"So, Stiles is a fairy," Scott said, a glimmer of certainty in his voice that didn't match his deer-in-the-headlights eyes (and, really, Stiles was going to have a conversation with them about repeating that after it had already been well established that he was a fairy), "and there's more."

The group shared a collective groan, and Stiles figured he should probably step up and start doing some real explaining because this was his news, after all, and talking was his strong suit. "Yep, um, more. You see, there may sort of kind of be a fairy (one who isn't me) traipsing around town, and I don't know why he's here or what he'll do, and, I mean, I don't even technically know if it's a he. Could be a she. A she-fairy. Not that 'fairy' is a masculine term that refers solely to male fairies and, therefore, has to be clarified when talking about female fairies, but, besides my mom, I've only known male fairies, and I guess that isn't saying much, 'cause I've really only known one other fairy, and he's kind of a douche, but that's really just because he's worried I'll do something as stupid as what I'm doing right now, actually, so I should probably apologize for all the incredibly rude things I've said to him over the years because he ended up being right all along, and who would figure, and can someone please stop me now because I really don't think I can do it on my-"

"Stiles!" Allison said, very sternly but in that stern-yet-loving way she had that looked a lot like that stern-yet-loving thing Scott's mom did, and that made so much sense. She put her hand on his arm and squeezed a little, and Stiles was reminded that he actually really liked Allison, though he sometimes complained about how Scott was around Allison, and that this was why.

She got it. In a way none of the wolves could. In a way Lydia couldn't even. And Stiles wasn't even really human, so it wasn't that, so much as that Allison just got it. Stiles kind of wished she and Scott hadn't broken up.

"Right," he said, finally, taking a breath. Right.

"So," Erica said, staring at Stiles flatly. "There's a fairy in town. Undisclosed gender. And you're not actually going to be much help because, despite being a fairy yourself, you don't actually know anything about fairies."

Stiles wanted to huff indignantly, but it was sort of true. He did it anyway.

Lydia stepped forward again, and she actually seemed relatively unfazed by this, and Stiles figured that it took her approximately 0.2 seconds to process, interpret, and compartmentalize. "What, exactly, are we all doing here?"

And Stiles didn't even really know that. Outside of the whole BT-dubs, I'm a fairy, y'all-thing. Scott was the one who had actually called this meeting. Stiles looked to him for an answer.

"Too many secrets," Scott said, making eye-contact with Derek and then with Stiles, and if the look in his eyes didn't fill Stiles to the brim with guilt, nothing could. Then, finally, blessedly, he turned his gaze to the rest of the group. "Keeping secrets from each other is how we've all almost gotten killed multiple times before." He looked back to Derek, and Derek took that as his cue to be all I'm-the-Alpha-werewolf again.

"Scott's right. We don't know yet if this new-" his eyes slid over to Stiles "-fairy is a threat, but you should all be informed. You should report any information you may uncover directly to me or Stiles." Stiles' eyes bugged when his name was mentioned, but it really did only make sense, since he was the resident fairy in these parts. "You don't all have to get along, but you do have to survive. I'll be in touch if there's any news." Which really meant that he'd be in touch with Stiles if there were any news, and then Stiles would be expected to be in touch with everyone else. "And Allison-"

But he didn't have a chance to say anything to her because Stiles cut him off with a fervent, "You cannot tell your father." Everyone actually seemed a little surprised at that. Stiles was generally a big we-should-all-just-cooperate-to-avoid-dying supporter.

"Stiles-" Allison began, and Stiles really wasn't sure what she was going to say, but it didn't matter because everyone had to here this.

"No. Let me talk. I told you all this because Scott's right, there have been too many secrets, and because, knowing the way things seem to happen around here, this could get very out of control very fast, but this does not give you blanket permission to go around running your mouths. Absolutely no one can know about this, especially not the hunters."

Jackson rolled his eyes. "I think we know how to keep a secret, Stilinski."

"No, you really don't," Stiles said, using the take-no-prisoners voice he'd adopted as a hybrid of his dad's Sheriff voice and Dain's it's-the-Rules voice. "Look around you. A few months ago only one person in this room even knew werewolves existed. Extenuating circumstances, I know, but knowing about fairies is kind of a fairies-only club." Stiles took a deep breath, and no one used the pause to interrupt him, so he counted that as a plus. "And by fairies-only club, I mean there's a council that will literally pin me to a wall if they find out I told a bunch of werewolves and two humans. With giants pins. Dain showed me them once because I was twelve and a brat and threatening to expose the existence of fairies to the world, and, believe me, they do not look pleasant."

Scott's eyes were as round as dinner plates, and it looked like he was maybe thinking that he should've asked Stiles more questions before dragging him in front of a huge group of people, which, well, duh, but he'd been right. They deserved, after everything, to know. "Pin you? To a wall?"

Stiles nodded sharply. "With giant pins, threw my wings. It's like fairy time out."

Derek's shoulders were tense. "They sound like hunters."

Stiles shook his head. "Uh-uh, big boy. We don't get hunted because of the Rules. You hear that capital 'r'? I've never actually read them, but it's clearly been effective because everyone either thinks we're mythology or extinct, even werewolves and hunters." His wings fluttered a little with nervous tension, and it was still really weird (but also kind of freeing?) to leave them out like this. "Dain's very adamant about them."

"Who's Dain?" Scott asked because Stiles had mentioned him twice now and had forgotten that not everyone in the world automatically knew who Dain was.

Stiles scratched the back of his neck. "Oh, he's my council representative. He stops by once a month and yells at me for being incompetent. Then asks me if anything interesting's happened, which I promptly lie about, praising whatever god wants to listen that they don't actually care enough about the human world to monitor the happenings of Beacon Hills because they would so not be pleased that I'd been hiding a pack of werewolves and a family of hunters from them."

Isaac scrunched up his eyebrows, and he looked sort of like a puppy when he did that. "If fairies aren't interested in the human world, then why would one be here now?"

This was all getting much more complicated than Stiles had hoped. "The Council isn't interested in the human world. They live under a water fall or in the clouds or God-knows where and, I bet, laugh as we all panic about being pinned to their trouble-maker-wall.-" Stiles may have been fixating, but dude. He'd had nightmares for most of his life about being pinned to walls. Horrible nightmares. Mostly by fault of Dain. "-Most fairies, on the other hand, actually enjoy the human world very much. From what I gather, they cruise around partaking in trickery and high jinx with their powers and laughing at as the silly humans squirm and go crazy."

There was another moment of silence, and Stiles was getting really sick of those.

"Just one more thing," Lydia said, very calmly. She raised one perfectly-plucked (or waxed, Stiles didn't really know) eyebrow. "Powers?"

So Stiles showed them a little bit of magic and explained how every fairy has slightly different powers, how his was centered around regrowth, how there was no way to predict what another fairy's powers would be. Then he flew for them because Scott, Allison, and Isaac gave him the eyes, and what else was he supposed to do with that? He took a little satisfaction, though he tried and failed at not showing it, in the way they all gasped (even Derek). Finally, they all went their separate ways, which Stiles could not have been more pleased about because, seriously, exhaustion.

Of course, Scott wasn't done yet. They went to Scott's house because Stiles, Scott argued, had both a car and wings (and apparently it wasn't only Derek that was confounded by the wings). Scott's mom was working late that day, and they sat awkwardly in Scott's living room, staring at the wall in silence, until Scott said, "You could have told me."

Stiles rubbed a hand over his face, but he'd known this was coming. "Did you not hear the part about being pinned to a wall?"

Scott actually had the decency to look guilty at that, but he shook it off quickly, and it's not like Stiles could blame him. "Still, Stiles. You could have told me." There were the puppy eyes. The stupid, heart-melting puppy eyes. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Stiles blew air out harshly between his lips. "I don't really know. It just- It never seemed like the time. First we were so young, and whenever I thought about telling you, I'd hear my mother's voice in my head-" and Scott went very still at that because Stiles never talked about his mother "-telling me not to tell anyone, not even dad, that the most important thing in the world was keeping the secret." Stiles stared off a little, letting his eyes focus on memories long past. "I've always wondered what could have possibly happened to make her so adamant." It was the same word he'd used to describe Dain. It fit.

Stiles shook his head clear. "Then, the longer I went without telling you, the less it seemed like the time to tell you. I almost did, when I figured out that you were a werewolf, but you were already going through so much, it seemed like too much to spring on you at the time. 'Yeah, hey, I know you suddenly have to deal with controlling your powers and resisting crazy, killer Alphas and avoiding hunters, but I just wanted you to know that, also, I'm a fairy and have been lying to you about it our entire lives.'"

Scott looked like he understood, or, at least, like he really, really wanted to understand, and that was as close as Stiles could ever hope to get. "I know, Stiles, but you could have told me." And suddenly it didn't sound like an accusation. It sounded more like- Like Scott was trying to assure Stiles, to comfort him.

Stiles smiled at Scott fondly because Scott was his best and always would be. "Thanks, buddy."