The Hale house is exactly like the last time Stiles saw it, so wholly and utterly different from the rebuilt one in his time. He glares at the brown rafters and the white columns and wishes back for the house his pack planned over and built with their own hands last summer.
As soon as Derek parks the car, Talia Hale is on the front porch, arms at her sides and eyebrow raised. She has a dishtowel in one hand, but she holds it like a weapon and her stance, while minute, is shifted defensively. She relaxes when she sees Derek and Stiles, surprise and confusion flittering over her features.
"Sorry boys," She says as the walk to the porch, both sharing 'what the fuck' looks with each other, "I thought I smelled someone I don't particularly like. I must've been mistaken."
Then she offers them an easy smile, a mother's placating one that they all seem to magically learn after they have kids.
Derek rolls his eyes and kisses her on the cheek, saying something about dinner smelling good. Stiles feels his chest constrict painfully, and it does nothing but firm his resolve.
This, he thinks, This is what I'm fighting for.
"How's the arm?" Stiles asks, nodding at her shoulder. He remembers Rand screaming in his face and tenses his shoulders to not hunch them in shame. Is Rand even home? He hopes not. He's running too high on adrenaline from his mom, from being close to Kate, from his revelation.
Talia waves a hand, "It's fine. I healed as soon as we got out of that ER. It's going to take a few days to shake a doctor, but it's nothing we can't handle. I didn't know you'd be joining us," Talia calls down from the porch, "Dinner won't be ready for another twenty minutes but we can make room if you're planning on staying."
"I'm actually here to talk to you, Mrs. Hale." Stiles fist his hands in his jacket pockets, trying to quell the shaking. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep his expression neutral, still not knowing what to say or how to say it. He should go back to Deaton's. He should translate those books. He should have asked his mom more questions. He should learn more about that timekeep before revealing everything to Talia.
But she nods at him and he knows it's too late to backtrack. He's not dealing with Talia Hale the mom anymore. He's staring right into the red eyes of an alpha, one of the most powerful ones on the West Coast, and she waves a hand at him, silently telling him to follow her into the house.
"Laura," Talia says, raising her voice only slightly. Laura walks out of the living room and into the foyer, not even sparing Stiles a glance. Her complete lack of acknowledgment burns him more than he anticipated. "I need to talk to Stiles for a few minutes. Do you think you could watch the spaghetti for me? You know how Cora gets if the meatballs are too well done."
Laura's eyes finally bounce over to Stiles and, before he knows it, he has an armful of Laura Hale. She's clinging to him, face stuffed between the crevice of his ear and shoulder. Her arms are wrapped so tight that Stiles swears he can hear his ribs creak, but he hugs her back as hard as he can.
"I knew you wouldn't do it," Laura whispers into his shoulder. If his shirt is slightly damp, neither of them say anything about it.
He doesn't respond though, just holds her tighter. He can't stop thinking about how broken she sounded last time he talked to her, how she had just completely given up and hates himself for putting her through that, for putting all of them through that. They had three weeks of sitting around, worrying about their mortality, and Stiles did nothing.
He resolutely ignores the laugh track of the timekeep in his mind, shoves it aside and pulls away from Laura. She graces him with one more blinding, bright smile before she's heading off into the kitchen.
Talia brings the phone down from her ear and snaps it shut. Stiles wonders how long Laura and him were hugging that she had enough time to make a phone call. She waves a hand and he takes it as a sign to follow her back to the study.
Stiles never spent too much time in the study back home. It was intended to be the research montage room but Stiles needed to have a TV on in the background if he was reading too much and Lydia preferred to sit on the porch to absorb, so it was mainly used as a storage room and a place for the land line (who even needed a land line in 2013?) and Derek's ancient desktop.
Stiles tried to take Derek to Best Buy one time to get a laptop for him. He'd never seen a salesperson cry so hard in his entire life.
While the walls of the future study are lined with barren shelves, this room is absolutely filled with books. Stiles longs to run his hands across the spines, pick them up and read all of the secrets of the Hale family. Peter had bemoaned the loss of 2/3rds of their library before, but Stiles had never really considered how much of a loss it was.
"This is amazing," Stiles gasps, eyes roaming over the walls filled to the brim with books.
Talia smirks beside him, "Yes, I suppose it is. This library has been passed down for four generations."
"And it's an absolute horror to photocopy," A voice drones from the corner of the room. Stiles turns his head quickly, the hair on his neck standing on end at the too familiar voice, and the sight he's met with his a man in his mid twenties sitting next to a Mac and a printer. He has a pile of books on a desk in front of him, boredly flipping through one in his hands. He looks up, eyes piercing and blue and Stiles feels his throat close up at the sight of them as Peter Hale smirks, "I suppose I should thank you for the warning, though. A month ago we only had a hundred of these saved. Our imminent death was quite a sign to get on with this."
Stiles and Peter both turn to Talia, and Stiles demands, "What's he doing here?" at the same time Peter asks, "Have you finally decided to torture him?"
Talia's teeth seem to bare at her brother on instinct and she growls, "No one is torturing him, Peter.
Peter just rolls his eyes and closes the book on his lap. Stiles, remembering what Laura said when she was sitting outside of Deaton's apartment, wonders if this is a frequent argument.
"What's he doing here?" Stiles asks again, trying to not look at the young face in the corner. It's weird to think of Peter as anything but an old, zombie werewolf with a gross goatee and a fetish for murder.
"He's my second in command, Stiles. I need him here for strategical reasons." Talia explains as she walks over to sit next to Peter. "I'm sure the Derek in your time had a second also."
Stiles doesn't mention that his Derek had trust issues upon trust issues and probably wouldn't have even had a pack if he didn't need the power.
"Besides," Talia adds with a smirk, "If I don't let him sit in he'd be listening under the window anyway."
"Just because you're a female dog, sister dear, does not mean you have to act like a bitch."
Stiles scratches awkwardly at his arm, trying to ignore how wrong it feels to see Peter like this, so domestic and fighting with his sister. Anytime he looks at him, all he can see is the red around his mouth while Cora's lifeless body bled out under him.
He closes his eyes and forces the image away. He can't do this if he thinks of Peter like that, can't help if he can't stop remembering the monster Peter is. He can't let himself be controlled by fear, not if he wants to make it through this conversation. It wasn't just the fire that made him insane, Stiles has to remind himself, it just made him worse at hiding it.
When he looks back up, Peter is staring at him intently, his too intelligent eyes looking at him in a way that makes him feel wrong and sick inside.
"I survive," Peter says suddenly, the wonderment and excitement in his tone shocking Stiles into going stock still, "Don't I?"
Stiles opens his mouth to deny it, to change the topic, to do anything but give away that information that he had been so careful to hide, when the door behind him opens.
Rand is there, sporting a familiar glare, and Stiles feels his chest tighten at the sight of him. Everything Randall said to him last night is still crystal clear in his mind, ricocheting in his ears anytime it gets too quiet.
Talia looks confused at Stiles, whose heart has been running amok since he saw Peter.
"No," Stiles says adamantly, on edge and close to jumping off, "No. I'm not doing this with him in here."
It's bad enough that Talia insisted on Peter but he can't tell Derek's story with two people in here who he doesn't trust. It already feels enough like a betrayal. There's no way he can do it if he feels out numbered. And, with a look at Rand, Stiles mentally adds threatened.
Talia looks like she wants to rise from her seat, "Stiles, he's my mate. He has to be here for this kind of conv-"
"No," He says again, glare not leaving Rand's face.
Rand is just glaring right back, "I'm going to be here-"
"No." Stiles makes his voice more firm, and he moves closer to the door, "You don't get to treat me like crap and then get to be here while I save your ass."
"You were going to let my family die!" Rand yells at him.
"I'm eighteen years old!" Stiles suddenly shouts, surprising even him, "I'm just a kid, you asshole! You shoved me against a wall and screamed in my face! I had no clue what I was doing, and I still don't! I don't need you here messing with my head." He lets some of his magic go, just enough that Talia and Peter will be able to smell it on him and know he's serious, "Now get out, or I'm going to."
"Randall," Peter calls, smirking softly, "I'm sure you know the preservation of this family is far more important than your ego. Don't let the door hit you on the way out."
"I'll be sure to fill you in later," Talia says, and her voice is light but her face is set in a frown. Her features are slightly off, like they were caught mid shift and forced to stop. "And you will be doing the same with me."
Rand leaves silently with a distrustful glare. He closes the door behind him and the room practically tingles with the silence left behind.
"I don't know why you don't just turn him," Peter rolls his eyes, "He's more wild than some omegas I've dealt with."
Talia snorts delicately, "That's exactly why he doesn't want to be turned, brother dear. Randall as a wolf would be terrifying."
While they continue with their weird, sibling, snarky bonding, Stiles snatches up a pencil from Peter's desk. When he turns away, it feels like Peter is watching him, but when he peaks over his shoulder he's very much engaged in his debate with Talia.
Above a light switch next to the door, Stiles draws in a ward for silence. His pocket knife is buried in his pocket, burning to be taken out so the ward can be done properly, but he doesn't think the Hales will appreciate him mutilating their wallpaper. Derek certainly didn't when he attempted it when they were discussing the merits of torturing a hunter hostage.
(Stiles and Derek were in firm agreement. Scott and Allison were very much against it. Stiles and Derek unsurprisingly lost. Who even decided to let the moral code power couple in on that meeting anyway?)
When the silence behind him grows noticeable, Stiles says over his shoulder, "It's a silencing ward. It's so no one outside of this room can hear what we say. It should wash off, but it won't last long because of the graphite."
"The room is soundproof, Stiles," Talia assures.
Stiles snorts, remembering Isaac's disgusted face whenever Erica and Boyd snuck in there to 'look something up', "You say that like I haven't been in a pack for the past few years."
Peter huffs, "We were trying to keep that particular trick a secret, Stiles. Now how am I going to know what my sister is hiding from me?"
Talia quickly reaches over and slaps Peter on the arm.
Stiles finishes off the ward and drops the pencil on Peter's desk, sitting across from the Hale matriarch and her beta.
He takes a deep breath and, before he can rethink it, breathes out, "The Hales were locked in the basement on the night of the lunar eclipse and the house was set on fire. An Argent did it-"
"Didn't you say Gerard Argent has been sniffing around?" Peter cuts in, looking at Talia.
Talia nods, face set in stone, "He swore he was just here to talk to his doctor. The man reeked of death so I let him pass and the hunters from last night weren't part of their clan. I made sure."
"It's- it's not Gerard. Well, it's kind of Gerard? It's his daughter acting on his orders, but he doesn't really do anything to you guys. Right now, anyway." Stiles clarifies. "She has some accomplices that aren't hunters. I don't think they are, anyway. They just seemed like some sick pyromaniacs she convinced to help her out?"
"Derek and Laura were at a Basketball game and didn't get hurt. Laura became the alpha when you died. Peter dragged himself out through the tunnels and was found by a medic who was taking a piss. He was in a coma for six years and-"
Stiles cuts himself off, not wanting to say it, can't say it, not when he just hugged Laura ten minutes ago, especially not when he remembers the way Peter sounded when he realized he lives, the way he looked like the world was his oyster.
The silence stretches too long, Stiles trying to think if he should go all the way or just let the future stay buried where it is. Peter doesn't look affected. He just... stares at Stiles, like he's delivering the news of the second coming of Christ.
It troubles Stiles, makes sweat slick his forehead and his heart stutter. He needs to tell Talia, needs to tell her what her brother did to Paige and Laura and Cora and Lydia and, hell, probably tons of other people. But he can't do it with him there. If he plants that seed, if Peter finds out what he can do...
He looks away, looks at Talia who has her chin on her hand, "I just don't understand. Our kind has kept the lunar eclipse a secret for centuries. I've never met a hunter who knows anything about it. How'd she know?"
Stiles sighs, and he's never felt so tired in his life. He mentally pleads to Derek, his Derek, for forgiveness. He can remember their talk about Kate like it was yesterday. They were outside on 4th of July, Stiles cooking hamburgers while the pack set up fireworks to light above the forest, and Stiles said something stupid about how his mom burned her favorite wig once trying to light one of them, because that's what they did, share stories that no one else would understand, and Derek just whispered it to him, quiet and steady like he'd been practicing it for weeks.
Derek didn't stop until he was done, kept talking even when his voice cracked, and Stiles had never hugged someone harder.
He needs to, needs to tell Talia, but his throat feels like it's closing and he can't even choke the words out.
"Derek did come to me a few days ago," Peter murmurs contemplatively, "It was about mates. At the time, I thought it was about Paige. You know how that boy still blames himself," He adds, looking over at Talia. Talia nods, like Paige has been a topic they've talked about numerous times. "But his behavior has been off lately, hasn't it?"
It seems to click for both of them at the same time, and Talia's growl is so loud and threatening that Stiles thinks his balls crawl back inside of his body.
"That Argent bitch!" Talia roars so loud that Stiles has to cover his ears. "Forget the laws. Forget the Argents. I am going to tear that bitch apart!"
Peter's own claws are out, almost reflexively at the anger of his alpha, but he grips her wrist and tugs her down, "Yes, great idea Talia. Send their entire clan after us. You know how they get about their own being shed."
"She's manipulating my son- your nephew! You've smelled him lately, haven't you?" Talia growls, eyes flashing red then hazel and red again, like she can't keep herself under control. Stiles is very careful to not move. "I'm going to tear her throat out and drop it on that geriatric geezer's doorstep."
Stiles has never regretted telling someone about Kate Argent before in his life. Talia Hale, the most revered and well respected alpha, is nothing more than a frothing, rabid mom when confronted with this truth. He thinks of his own mom, of how she'd react if she found out one of his teachers was sleeping with him for information on her sparkness, and shudders minutely. God have mercy on their soul.
Stiles wants to record this, to somehow hand it to future Derek and say 'see? I told you she wouldn't blame you, dude'.
"Talia," Peter's voice is so hard it could cut glass, "You need to control yourself. I know your anchor is family, but you need to reign yourself in before you make matters worse. She obviously already has her claws in Derek. Killing her won't do anything but alienate your son and call a war."
"So, what?" Talia snarls, "Am I supposed to sit by and let her defile my son and use him for information?"
Her head stills, snaps up and stares directly into Stiles' eyes. They're wide and hazel and so, so, so horrified that Stiles wants to comfort her somehow. "He blames himself, doesn't he?" She asks, and her voice is soft and hard at the same time. Stiles nods, a quick jerk of his head, and she laughs bitterly, "Of course. My poor baby. That's just like him."
She sighs and drops her head onto her hand, "He always felt so much deeper than his siblings. I can't even begin to imagine how he must be like in the future."
"He's a lot different," Stiles confirms, trying to make his voice sound light when all he can hear is Derek howling, long and hollow and filled with grief, the night after Cora died, "Stands in corners and broods a lot. He learned to delegate his stalking to the betas though, so, that was a nice reprieve."
Peter rest a gentle hand on Talia's shoulder and she relaxes into the touch.
"Deaton and I summoned the thing that sent me here," Stiles says, trying to get back on track and keep Talia from rushing out and ripping Kate's heart out of her chest, "It said the fire was never supposed to happen."
"What?" Peter and Talia ask at the same time.
Stiles nods, "Something happened that interfered with it. I guess 2007 is supposed to be a set time or something? It wasn't very clear. My mom gave me some books but they're all in Polish and will probably take me some time to get through but. I don't think we have that much time."
"The next eclipse is in August," Talia says, "We have around five weeks to figure this out."
"I think the solution is pretty obvious," Peter shrugs, "Since whatever this thing was sent Stiles back in time to fix it, I think Stiles is the one that needs to fix it."
Talia and Stiles both turn to stare incredulously at Peter.
He sighs, annoyed, "Think about it. We're werewolves and obviously members of Derek's family. If we start hanging around then she'll know we suspect her and will move her plans up. Derek is, well, you saw how he was with Paige, Talia. He sicked Ennis on the poor girl," Stiles' skin burns in anger to correct him, but he keeps his mouth shut. He'll deal with that later. He'll deal with so much later. Right now he needs to focus on Derek and Kate. "You know what I say about love. If we try to restrict him, he'll just fight harder to see her."
"If you think for one second I'm going to let my son continue to date a hunter hellbent on murdering his family-"
"I'm not saying that. Just continue to be distracted for a few more weeks," Peter says lightly, in that persuading tone he always used to convince Derek of some stupid plan that was usually vetoed out, "Stiles. Do you have any clue how to get rid of this Argent without causing total war?"
Stiles bites his lip and shrugs, "My dad's the Sher-Deputy and she was his teacher. If we can get some proof that they're in a relationship then I could get my mom to tell my dad to arrest her."
Peter nods, "Perfect. See, Talia? Human solutions to human problems."
Talia snorts inelegantly, "Yes, brother, because being systematically hunted by a family of inbred, insane people is exactly what humans go through."
"Has Hills Have Eyes come out yet?" Stiles raises an eyebrow, genuinely curious.
Peter looks like he's trying to hide a smile. Talia just ignores him.
"Right," Talia stands and squares her shoulders, like a military sergeant preparing for battle, "Stiles, do you really think you can do this?"
Stiles really isn't sure, to be honest. He wants to help, and he knows he can definitely catch Kate for being a crazy pedophile, but he kind of really just wants to put a bullet in Kate's head and be done with it.
"I'm sure," He says instead of that though, because he's not sure that it would inspire too much confidence.
His heart must stay steady because Talia nods, resolute. The air is calmer now, no longer cackling with tension. Talia seems more relaxed, like she's one hundred percent certain that Stiles will be able to take care of this. God, he hopes he can take care of this.
"I really can't thank you enough for doing this for us, Stiles," Talia says, and then she's walking around the table to hug him. It's not a very maternal hug, and it's not familiar or comfortable like Laura's was, but it seems to make her feel better so he goes along with it. When she pulls back her face is set in a familiar, neutral expression, one that Derek would use when he was hiding stuff from the pack, "I know you're sacrificing a lot by helping us, and if you ever need anything never be afraid to ask.
"We have a spare room if Deaton's couch ever becomes uncomfortable, and if you need to buy anything just tell Deaton. He has Power of Attorney for the pack account. I need to go have a chat with my husband," She growls the word, "And make sure Laura didn't burn our food. Feel free to stay for dinner."
And then she's gone, striding away like she hadn't been two seconds away from losing control a few minutes ago and closes the door behind her.
"So," Stiles says briskly, turning to look at Peter with a raised eyebrow, "Are we still pretending you're a good guy?"
Peter smirks, small and slow, like he's sharing a secret, "I haven't the faintest idea what you mean, Stiles."
Stiles snorts, "Yeah. Of course you don't. I know your game, Peter, and your ideas are rarely for the benefit of anyone but you. No matter if they actually help, you always have something to gain. Did you forget I come from a place where you were a psychopathic murder monster and turned my best friend into a werewolf?"
And then he freezes, like someone has just thrown him naked in the snow and turns to see Peter, who's full out grinning now. How could he say that? How did he let that slip? No one was supposed to know that Peter became an alpha. He had been meticulous about sparing that detail ever since his first meeting with the Hales.
"Alpha Peter has such a nice ring to it, don't you think, Stiles?" He says, and his eyes flash blue before he's gone and Stiles is in the study alone, not even breathing.
Fuck.
He doesn't know how long he stands there for, silently freaking out. It could either be a minute or an hour, he wouldn't be able to tell, but he only comes back when Laura tugs sharply on his sleeve.
"You okay?" She asks as he stumbles at the force of her pull.
"You need to watch your mom," Stiles says quickly, not even sparing her a hello or a how are you.
Laura just raises an eyebrow, "You know that she's an alpha werewolf, right? It's kinda her job to be pushy and annoying. Trust me."
"No! No, I mean, you need to make sure she isn't alone with Peter."
Laura doesn't even change expressions.
"I may have put an idea in his head that I wasn't supposed to," Stiles explains, feeling like he's going to buzz out of his skin.
"Is this a time travel thing?" She finally asks, but she makes it sound like he's an important spy that just handed her a super secret task that could save the world.
He is so not 007 so he just waves her off, "It might be, yes. Please?"
She stares at him for a few seconds and then nods resolutely. Stiles can't tell if he's more thankful for her not asking questions or for her trust. He thinks it's a combination of both.
"Thank you," He says, and they don't say anymore.
Derek's in the doorway, scowling at them, and grunts, "Dinner's ready. Mom wants to know if you're staying."
Stiles shakes his head. He doesn't think he could eat right now, too busy trying to plan and think. God, he hasn't played chess in years. This is the most important game of his life.
"I need to put some wards around the house," Stiles explains, mentally going through all of the ones he needs. Definitely the fire deterrent ones, "And then I gotta get back to Deaton's and start translating those books."
"Do you even know whatever language they're in?" Laura asks.
"Not really, but it's not like Google Translate is just for desperate high school students, right?"
Derek and Laura just roll their eyes.
By the end of the night, there's an array of wards around the house that light up just for him like the Northern Lights, and Stiles feels more tense than he has in weeks.