Stiles chewed on a thumbnail aimlessly as he paced. His feet dragged over the stone, displacing leaves and dirt every so often. He had to keep moving. He couldn't fall asleep.
"Can't fall asleep," he mumbled to himself, hitting his head, "can't fall asleep." The stuttering of Peter's breathing paused and Stiles stumbled towards him. He fell on hands and knees, shoving his face right in Peter's, trying to see if he was still breathing. Peter inhaled weakly and his eyes cracked open.
"The boy," he whispered, "I need the boy." Stiles frowned.
"What boy?"
"The boy that wants it," Peter said significantly.
"Jackson? Why?"
"Need strength," Peter said, eyes squeezing shut. "Need a pack." Stiles swallowed roughly.
"Okay so bite me." It was a moment before Peter answered.
"You don't want it." Stiles opened his mouth to argue and Peter cut him off. "Just get him."
"Alright," he sighed. He stood before crouching back down. "What if you die while I'm gone?" Peter's mouth twitched and Stiles couldn't tell if it was a smile or a grimace.
"Then help him bury me." Just picturing Jackson's face dragging a corpse through the woods had Stiles smiling again. How did Peter keep doing that? Stiles stepped out of the cave, taking in the rising sun as he slid his phone from his pocket and turned it on. He ignored the texts and voicemails, scrolling through his contacts. Thank God Stiles had always been good about getting information that might be handy later. Like Jackson's phone number.
"Hello?" Jackson mumbled, voice sleep heavy.
"Meet me at the edge of town, now."
"What? Who is this?" Jackson's voice got sharper as he woke himself up and Stiles could picture him sitting up in bed and flicking on a light.
"It's Stiles you dumbass, now come meet me."
"Hey fuck you Stilinski. You owe me a Porsche."
"Yeah? Cause you owe me a life." There was a long moment of silence.
"What are you talking about?" Jackson demanded.
"Do you want to be a werewolf or not?"
"I'm on my way," Jackson said before the call disconnected. Stiles shook his head and set off. He could only hope Jackson would already be there by the time he made it on foot.

Jackson was, leaning against the driver's door of his second car. Stiles nearly snorted then. He had to remind himself that he needed Jackson. Fantastic. "It's about time," Jackson said, eyebrows arched disdainfully.
"Do you ever shut up?"
"You brought me out here to whine like a bitch?" Stiles' hands curled. He reminded himself again that he needed Jackson.
"We both know who the bitch is here. Let's go." He didn't wait for Jackson's reaction; he spun quickly and headed back in the direction he came. Stiles was vaguely surprised when he heard Jackson follow him without any more complaints. Jackson didn't speak at all as they made their way back to the cave. Stiles heard him swipe at branches every so often. Whether or not he actually needed to smack them remained a mystery. Stiles wondered if Jackson was freaking out yet. Then he forced his attention back to Peter. Peter. The alpha. The man that Stiles couldn't watch die. The fact disturbed him. Stiles could chalk it up to seeing too much death already in his life. But a lingering dread told him it was more than that. He'd betrayed his best friend for Peter. His best friend. There was most definitely something more going on. And sure, Scott had been less attentive and in fact a pretty shitty friend since this whole wolf thing had started but still…Stiles was loyal to a fault. He just didn't know how that loyalty had seamlessly shifted to Peter. In a matter of moments. It baffled Stiles. To say the least.

He didn't hesitate at the mouth of the cave, stepping right in. Peter had managed himself into a sitting position, leaning against the wall. He looked more human than when Stiles had left, but also closer to death. He must have been using power to heal himself. Stiles scowled before looking back to Jackson, who was lingering in the mouth of the cave.
"Really?" Stiles demanded. After another moment, Jackson stepped in. He took his time making his way to them. Stiles knelt down. Jackson joined him after a shaky exhale.
"Come closer," Peter said. Jackson leaned in. Peter crooked a finger. Stiles shoved Jackson forward until he was practically in Peter's lap. Jackson's entire body went tense as his eyebrows encroached dangerously on his forehead. "Calm down. I'm not going to kill you," Peter paused and closed his eyes, breathing slowly, "intentionally."
"What?" Jackson yelped, voice suddenly hoarse.
"You want this or not?" Stiles interrupted, losing his patience. Worry and panic were gnawing at his already frayed nerves. He had no patience for Jackson at the moment.
"Well…yes…I just don't understand…" his hand did a mad little dance between Peter and himself. Peter swung his gaze to Stiles, expression pleading.
"The closer the bite is to the heart the faster it will work," Stiles droned.
"Uhm," Jackson let out, voice going unnaturally high, "alright, alright, go." Peter tugged Jackson's head back with one hand. He growled louder than Stiles thought he could, the sound echoing off the walls. A small scream worked its way out of Jackson's mouth as Peter's teeth extended and he bit his exposed throat. Stiles flinched away. It was over quickly and Jackson scrambled away from Peter, past Stiles, one hand over the wound on his neck. Jackson was muttering to himself, eyes firmly closed. Stiles couldn't make out the words. He really didn't care to. He watched Peter carefully. His thoughts were drawn back to the night before without his consent.

Everyone had been distracted when Stiles cranked the Porsche's engine. He wedged a stick on the gas pedal and dove out of the way. He heard more than saw it crash into the Hale house. The maltov cocktail slipped from Jackson's fingers harmlessly and Peter dropped to the ground, rolling in the mud furiously. Stiles ran forward, bolting around Peter's hunched form and skidding in the mud just in time to block Derek's path. Derek let lose a fierce growl, locking Stiles' muscles in adrenaline laced fear. He didn't move.
"Stiles! What are you doing?" Scott demanded, the words nearly growls, "Get away from him!" Stiles shook his head, not taking his eyes from Derek.
"It can end now," he said, pleaded. "Kate broke the code and Kate is dead. It can end now. No one else has to die."
"I can't be human anymore if he lives," Scott said, stopping by Derek's side. Stiles shook his head again. He shot a quick glance to Jackson, who was looking at his Porsche but surprisingly hadn't moved to it. Allison was being forcibly held back by her father.
"No one else has to die," Stiles said again. "Please, just stop."
"Where were you when he killed my sister? Who said no one else has to die for her?" Derek demanded, crouching lower to attack.
"Where does it end?" Stiles questioned, voice nearly cracking under the pressure.
"When he dies," Derek said. "Now get out of the way, or I will kill you."
"And then the Argents will kill you." There was no denial or agreement from the hunters behind him.
"I don't care. Move Stiles. Now." Derek took a step forward. Stiles flinched but remained where he was. Derek growled again.
"You can't kill him," Scott protested weakly, wolf features melting away.
"Shut up!" Derek roared, turning to Scott and shoving him away. The next thing Stiles knew he was being yanked backwards by the collar of his shirt. Peter dragged him through the woods until his legs gave out. He phased back to a human, still half charred. It was left to Stiles to find cover, as he desperately tried not to wonder why he'd done what he'd done.

Stiles inched himself closer again, shaking off the memories and focusing on Peter. Why they got here didn't matter. The fact that they were here did.
"Better?" he whispered.
"Depends if he makes it." Stiles examined him for a long moment.
"You want to increase your odds?"
"I wouldn't mind having you as my own, no." An odd thrill went through Stiles at the words. Stiles didn't know why this was happening. Sometimes all there was to go on was instinct. He slid his body closer to Peter's, until they were almost touching, then he leaned his head away. He inhaled deeply, neck exposed, and waited. He deliberately avoided thinking about what he was doing, as he had been since…pretty much since asking Lydia to dance. A hand settled on his right shoulder unexpectedly and Stiles' eyes cracked open to see Jackson there, expression unreadable. Stiles didn't glance to Peter, couldn't really. He closed his eyes again. Jackson squeezed his shoulder and there was a brief pause before Peter bit into his neck. Stiles gasped. He'd always been quiet with his pain. It hurt so badly tears stung his closed eyes and he was glad of Jackson with him. Jackson who'd already been through this. Jackson who was helping Peter, even if he was helping himself as well. Peter withdrew his mouth almost tenderly, one of his hands falling on Stiles' left shoulder heavily. "This isn't self serving at all," he breathed, "but I really hope you both survive." Stiles managed a weak smile.
"What a coincidence, I really hope you both survive too."

A/N: So this story… Hmm.. I don't really know where it's going lol. I should really stamp that as a disclaimer on my forehead before I even get out of bed in the morning.

All I can promise right now is Jackson Stiles and Peter in a pack and planned Stiles/Peter. [Yes slash. The fun stuff. :D]

Anyways, hope you like!