This is with Derek and the Pack, sorry for the bad transition between the two perspectives. Enjoy!
The pack was gathered together, but instead of the usual boisterous ways, of them rough housing and having one another lounge comfortably on top of one another, they all sat at attention. Backs straight, chins at a forty-five degree angle, eyes downcast; the perfect submissive pose to their alpha. Derek, who was currently staring down their local walking encyclopedia for the supernatural, Deaton, and Derek was losing. Deaton refused to give them any information, he refused to help them in any way, and Derek was demanding answers. It was bad enough that they lost one of their own, granted they hadn't considered him one of their own for a while, the loss was still painful, and with Deaton's refusal to give them information as to why their old pack-mate was gone, literally his body disappeared, then he would learn the true meaning of a pissed off wolf.
"I will not give you the answers you seek," Deaton replied calmly, his posture relaxed.
"You know what happened, you always know what happens around here, you have to tell us." Derek demanded, tightening his fists, trying to hold some composure.
"You did this to yourself, you were the reason this happened, and only you can fix this, if it is to be fixed." Deaton replied mystically, his eyes traveling between the pack members.
Derek clenched his jaw, squeezed his hands together until his nails bit into his palms and started to draw blood. "Please," he asked, hating how he was resorted to asking such a thing.
Deaton looked at the alpha, the poor lost boy who was forced to grow up too fast, the alpha who damned his pack and essentially allowed possibly one of the most powerful pack additions to kill himself due to their neglect. "No."
Flashback:: two days before Stiles's death
Scott moped around the clinic, petting on the animals and cleaning cages on autopilot. Eventually he shook himself out of his funk and confronted his boss. "You said that there can be human members in a pack, right?" He asked while twisting his hands in his hoodie pocket.
Deaton, who was double checking the stitches on their newest member, nodded his head absently. "That is correct."
"Can humans experience the pack bond, like, wolf members?" Scott asked, ducking his head away from the sudden narrowing of eyes directed in his direction.
Deaton stiffened then straightened up, "What did you do?" He questioned, pulling off his gloves and tossing them into the bin beside the examination table, eyes searching the wide eyed wolf in question.
"Well, it wasn't my idea," Scott began in protest, "Derek thought it would be best for Stiles to stay out of the pack, he kept getting hurt and he couldn't heal like the rest of us. And unlike Alison he kept going directly into the heat of whatever we were in."
"What did you do, Scott," Deaton's voice brought chills.
"Well…" Scott's eyes roamed around the little room, never staying on one thing for every long.
"Let me get this straight, you allowed your alpha to kick out possibly one of the most resourceful humans you could come by. Allowing the loyal friend who stood by your side while you nearly killed him month after month due to your little issue; all because he got a little scratch in the field?" Deaton questioned, his usually calm voice trembled with emotion, and sarcasm dripped venomously from his words.
Scott didn't directly answer; he just ducked his head and nodded.
Deaton swore in every tongue he knew, which is an impressive amount. He grabbed his jacket from the hook and struggled to put it on, while Scott watched him with confused eyes.
"Get her comfortable and lock up, then go to Derek's," Deaton commanded before spinning on his heel and leaving in a huff.
At Derek's
Deaton exited his car and resisted the urge to slam the door; he closed it with a soft tap and rapped on the hood with his knuckles. He was tired, oh so tired, and far too old to be doing this, if only he had followed his own promise and stopped aiding those who were too dumb to take a subtle hint. But instead he took in a wayward human, who then was bitten by a deranged alpha, who in turn brought it to his attention that the hyperactive son of the sheriff was in fact the person he had been looking for, then to find that Stiles was still dormant. A good thing, until the supernatural world decided to make Beacon Hills their new hub. And now, this, Stiles catatonic in bed, injured beyond human repair and the pack that was supposed to be supporting him was the catalyst for all of this.
Deaton was barely able to resist the urge to stomp his way into the new Hale meeting ground, and so what if his footsteps ended up falling slightly heavier than normal. He barged into the apartment, startling Isaac from a doze, and causing Boyd to tense from surprise, Peter merely looked from his book for a moment, rolling his eyes in the over theatrics of the pack. Derek was not there.
"Where is your alpha?" Deaton demanded, his anger darkening his voice and causing the wolves to shift.
That caught Peter's attention, for it took a large amount of something to obtain an emotional reaction from Deaton, he was harder to anger than Spock, and by far more stubborn than any Vulcan. "What has my nephew done to anger you?" Peter questioned, lowering his book, while noting the page number.
Deaton looked at Peter, his eyes flashing dangerously. "Call you alpha, and the pack, you have a lot of explaining to do, and I have very little patience."
Isaac finished the text and sent it to Derek while Boyd warily watched Deaton, this was atypical of the man, and it Deaton wasn't in his right frame of mind he could be a threat to the pack.
Ten minutes later and Derek finally appeared, rather noisily. His Camaro roared up and the heavy fall of his footsteps was able to sooth the agitated pack within, but it only angered Deaton more. He was acting nonchalant about the whole thing, as if having a pack-mate in the hospital was nothing but a usual occurrence. And for Derek, in retrospect, it wasn't an unusual occurrence, but this was Stiles.
When Derek entered his nose was practically assaulted by the smells attacking him. Panic from Isaac, who was huddled beside Boyd, trying to fight the irrational fear that his father bad so lovingly beat into him, Scott stood on Isaac's other side, his smell of sharp confusion brought an itch to Derek's nose. Peter stood in the corner, carefully assessing the situation, but it was clear to see that he was uneasy. And then the hot tang of anger, coming from Deaton.
"What is going on here?" Derek asked, crossing his arms and looking like the alpha he wasn't meant to be.
The pack turned to Deaton.
"You broke him," Deaton began.
"Who," Derek countered, his inner wolf raised his hackles at the thought of him doing something wrong and injuring his pack.
"Stiles," Deaton replied calmly, but his smell told them that he was anything but calm.
"How did we break him," Peter inquired from his corner. Raising his eyebrows while he looked at Deaton; uncertain if he really wanted to know the answer.
"He had a pack bond with you," Deaton stated, staring Derek down.
It was as if the pack had been slashed by the kanima, then dumped into a vat of icy water, they looked at one another in horror. The pack bond meant everything to them, it was the reason that they were able to be true to themselves around each other and never worry about being shunned.
"But he's human," Derek countered, looking at Deaton with a slightly lost expression.
"No, he is not," Deaton countered, crossing his arms and fighting back the urge to slam the insufferable alpha into the ground.
"If Stiles isn't' human than what is he?" Scott piped up, looked at the two opposing men with big eyes.
"Stiles is the direct descendant from the first race of natural magic, from before the Rule of the Once and Future King." Deaton said, his eyes glanced at Peter.
Peter had turned deathly pale, his eyes grew wide and his mouth parted slightly. "Are you saying, that the hyperactive little shit -," The rest of the pack growled at him when he insulted Stiles but he plowed onward, "is directly descended from Emrys?"
"Great grandson times twelve," Deaton replied.
"Well shit."
So, those who understand who Emrys is I hope I have you squirming, and those you don't I suggest either waiting for my next chapter or watching BBC Merlin :) Hope you all enjoyed and sorry it took me a while to write, I was swamped with homework and tests just seem to keep on coming. As usual please review! Hope you liked it and hopefully a new chapter will come a little quicker. Adieu