They rode in the Toyota up to what Derek referred to as "the main house". He explained that they'd all grown up in it, that it was where his mom still lived with Cora, who would never admit it but was refusing to become independent and was enjoying being taken care of by their mother. Laura had her own place down another off-shoot of the main Hale Road and their Peter had a cabin down another one he'd use whenever he was actually in town. Malia lived within the town itself with Kira but frequently came to visit, both of them always a part of Sunday family dinners and special occasions.

The house itself was huge, colonial style with white wooden siding and forest green shutters to match the trees that surrounded it. A large porch spread across the front of the house, swing at one end, a couple rocking chairs to the other. As they pulled up and parked beside another SUV just like Derek's, Stiles could see lights shining through front windows and he peered inside to find warm green walls and burgundy furniture.

Slipping his seat belt off, Stiles peered around at his surroundings, hearing nothing but the sounds of the forest. He figured the trees had to go on for miles in every direction, that the house was as private as could be, which made sense. It was the State Alpha and her family. No other houses around meant they could easier hear a threat approach. And considering the attack, they were extra vigilant.

Turning to Derek, he watched as the engine was killed and the keys slipped out the ignition. He'd left his weapons at home and had changed into a pair of black jeans that did everything for him and a v-neck of the same color, an off-duty outfit that was still the dark color they were expected to wear.

Glancing down at his own outfit, he took in his borrowed skinny jeans, a plain black tee he'd thankfully packed, and zip up hoodie he'd swiped from Stu's closet. Derek had offered a cardigan of his brother's but he'd immediately turned it down, not entirely sure if it was the one from the video but not wanting to chance it. It was too much.

Stiles followed Derek's lead and exited the car, the front door of the house opening as they did so. Laura waited for them by the top of the porch steps, dressed in black skinnies of her own and a blouse of the same color, dark hair hanging in curls past her shoulders. A soft smile was on her face as they approached, and she stepped to the side as they ascended the steps and paused beside her.

"Glad you guys made it," she commented warmly, green eyes focusing on Stiles. "And I wanted to apologize to you for yesterday, if I offended you or pissed you off keeping you out of S-Dub business."

Stiles waved her off before shoving his hands in his back pockets and shrugging. "No biggie," he replied honestly, keeping his voice light to show he wasn't all that upset about it. Hard to be when he had a room full of evidence back at Derek's place. "My dad's county sheriff so I'm constantly being told to leave when official police business is going on."

Which was true. He just left out the part where he listened in on private conversations anyway and was constantly snooping through classified files, his dad well-aware and pretty much having long since given up trying to get him to stop.

Except for that thing about the shady ass Meeting.

Shit, he'd barely spoken to his dad that day. He should probably text soon and let him know what was going on, make sure the old man was okay.

Laura nodded, casually folding her arms over her torso. "Sheriff of Beacon County, right?" she double-checked. "I think Derek mentioned you were from Beacon Hills?"

He nodded, curious furrow in his brow. "Yeah, why?"

"Oh, sorry, didn't mean to make it sound like an interrogation," she apologized with a slight wince, friendly grin on her face. "I'm still trying to mentally write the speech I'm making before the pyre tonight."

Stiles felt his heart stop and sink to his stomach at the reminder of what was about to take place in only a couple hours. Turning to his right, he tried to check out the sky and see where the sun was, guesstimate how long it would be until it was dark and the pyre would be lit, but he couldn't see much of anything past the tall trees surrounding them. But the way his wolf was whining and yowling in his head, it wouldn't be all that long.

As if sensing his distress, Derek subtly shifted closer, and Stiles had to hold back on giving him a grateful smile so Laura wouldn't notice the sly move.

"I was actually wondering," she began, voice more cautious and lower than before, and he turned to see her repeatedly tucking her hair behind her ear, despite not a single strand being out of place. Nervous tic, he figured. "If you wanted to speak as well, since you're the twin of the one we're honoring?" She posed it as a question so there was no pressure on him to feel obligated and his brows raised in surprised.

"I, uh. I honestly hadn't even thought about it," he admitted, scratching at his forehead with a finger. Which was the truth, but he left out the part where the thought hadn't crossed his mind because he'd forgotten it was a New Moon and he'd spent the day elbows deep in laundry and evidence of something he hadn't entirely figured out but knew was important.

But now that he was thinking about it, he still had no clue whether or not he wanted to do it. He hadn't spoken at his mother's funeral, had simply held Stu's hand as they both stood by their dad while he gave a few choked words before he couldn't speak any more. Stiles wasn't sure he was capable of it, of speaking in front of a bunch of strangers about the better half of him that was no longer around.

Shrugging, he let out a few choked noises, shaking his head helplessly.

"Sweetie, it's okay," Laura reassured him with a warm smile. "Just think about it and let me know later. No pressure."

A relieved breath left him and he smiled, nodding in agreement. He ignored Derek's curious glances and concerned scent, focusing on the man's sister as she told them to come on inside so Stiles could meet everyone.

Kira bounded over practically as soon as they entered the foyer, stairs bisecting the space, open archways on either side of it. She was beaming much as she had at the diner, excitedly greeting them and giving them enthusiastic hugs, something that caught Stiles off guard when he was enveloped by her tiny arms and her head pressed against his chest. But the whiff of omega he caught in her scent explained away her rebelling against traditional societal norms of not touching unclaimed omegas.

Malia followed behind her at a much more subdued rate, hair now in a short bob rather than the thick length it had been in the photo he'd seen of her, giving Derek a one armed hug and Stiles an up and down judgmental look. Until Kira smacked her arm and gave her an imploring expression that had her rolling her eyes and pulling the petite girl close.

"You know I gotta give the new guy hell, Kire. It's traditional," Malia explained with a smile, her Mate pouting until she got a kiss on the cheek. Turning back to Stiles, she gave him a much friendlier grin and a head bob. "Nice to meet you. And sorry for." She bobbed her eyebrows in a "ya know" fashion and he nodded, because he did know.

With a small smile of his own, he gave her a rough thanks before the door opened up behind them and two females walked in. He recognized one of them as Cora, still in the all-black tactical clothes of the S-Dubs, hair pulled back in a severe ponytail, narrowed brown eyes and flaring nostrils aimed Stiles' direction as she looked him all over and scented him.

He swallowed hard, heart pounding in his chest, worried that despite the two showers he'd taken since, he'd still be busted for fooling around with Derek.

"You must be Stiles," the second female spoke, drawing his attention. She was dressed in black jeans and a tank so tight they had to have been painted on, leather jacket zipped up to just under an ample chest, black boots and matching motorcycle helmet completing the look. Her hair was loosely curled and as she flicked it back over her shoulder, Stiles caught sight of three large scars running from her left cheek down her neck, marring her otherwise perfect cocoa skin.

"I'm Braeden," she introduced in a sexy rumble, lips curving up in an amused smirk as she took him in. "Heard a lot about you, kid."

Cora snorted and he turned to see her hanging a helmet of her own on a row of hooks for coats and jackets. "That's putting it lightly," she muttered sarcastically before turning to him with her arms folded, lips twisting to the side as she continued to visually inspect him. "You play cards?"

"Say no," both Laura and Derek instructed simultaneously, Stiles' head jerking back and forth between them.

Cora huffed, throwing her arms in the air before putting her hands in her hips. "What the fuck?"

"You cheat," Derek stated plainly, staring at her with narrowed green eyes, daring her to deny or argue.

"I do no—"

"Listening in on someone's heartbeat and scenting their chemosignals to tell when they're bluffing is cheating, Core," Laura sighed out, pinching the bridge of her nose as though they've repeatedly had that conversation. Which judging by the way Malia and Kira left the room and Braeden rolled her eyes and cocked out a hip with a huff, they probably did.

"If we weren't meant to use those skills in situations like that, then why—"

"Ohhhh no," Laura objected. "No. I am not having this conversation again. Not happening." Slashing her arms in front of her body to signify the end of the convo, she turned on a heel and left, heading through an archway to the left side of the stairs.

Cora rolled her eyes as she turned to Braeden, opening her mouth to speak only to have the darker skinned female talk first.

"I'm not having it either," she stated, eyebrows raised in a "that's final" way. "Now let's go help your sister and see what kinda alcohol is in this place. I've got a feeling we're gonna need it tonight." At that, she flicked her dark eyes over to Stiles, sad smile curving up the corner of her lips.

And while he totally wanted to agree, he was still technically underaged and currently in a house containing of four S-Dubs and the Acting State Alpha. No way he was getting away with drinking anything stronger than a cola.

Damn.

The youngest Hale let out a groan, head tilted back and body slumping as though everything was just too fucking much. "Fiiiine," she dragged out the word, ending it with a huff.

Braeden simply rolled her eyes again, placing her hand between Cora's shoulder blades. "C'mon, princess," she muttered, fighting a smirk as she pushed the younger female in the same direction Laura had just gone.

Derek shook his head fondly at the two females, Stiles staring after them in confusion before turning to Derek. "Are they," he started, keeping his voice low. "Are they together?"

The alpha frowned in puzzlement then wiped the expression away, glancing where the girls had disappeared to. "No, just friends," he responded and unintentionally made Stiles feel like an idiot. "Both Braeden and Cora are Dream-less, but they're fine with it, so don't, like, pity them or anything. Especially not Braeden. She can kick my ass."

He snorted, smirking at the mental image of a leather clad Braeden literally kicking Derek's ass with those bike motorcycle boots she had on. She seemed like the type to throw a man around—regardless of dynamic—and throttle him, then complain about the mess he just made.

He liked her.

She should never meet Lydia though.

"They both said they're not the relationship type," Derek went on, scratching at the side of his neck. "And Cora once told me she's aromantic and quote 'doesn't do all that lovey-dovey mushy-gushy squishy feelings bullshit' so." He ended it with a shrug, clearly not bothered by any of it.

Stiles shrugged right back, not all that bothered by it either, but curious. He figured it had to be weird growing up in a society where finding your Mate seemed to be the number one objective of anyone's life and if you didn't have one, you were looked at like there was something seriously medically wrong with you. Personally he couldn't imagine it, but it was hard to when he'd grown up only knowing what it was like to have the Dreams and know that someone was out there that'd been perfectly made for him.

Peeking out the corner of his eyes, he took in Derek's visage as he stared out a set of slender decorative windows framing the front door, lips parting and brow furrowing. For four years, that was the man Stiles had been dying to find. And for four years, Derek hadn't wanted to be found.

Tonight was shaping up to be a real fun time.

The sounds of a car engine caught his attention and he turned to look out the same windows as Derek, confused frown of his own forming. From what he understood, that night was supposed to be a family only kinda thing—which was part of the reason why he'd thought maybe Braeden was with Cora—and all of the Hales were there. Well, minus the matriarch, but she was off at that Meeting down south so clearly she wouldn't be there. Point was, he had no idea who the hell was currently getting closer and from the look on Derek's face, neither did he.

"Laure?" he called out, still staring out the window. "Who else is coming?"

Stiles turned at the sounds of footsteps, finding every female re-entering the foyer, belatedly realizing he was grossly outnumbered in terms of gender. But more importantly, were the puzzled looks on everyone else's faces, including Laura's, the one who'd organized the entire shindig.

"No one," she answered, voice gravelly with uncertainty.

Malia automatically unsheathed her claws, pulling back her lips to display her fangs. Cora and Braeden didn't hesitate to follow suit and Stiles turned to find Derek in a similar state.

Showdown at the Hale Corral.

"Stiles, sweetie," Laura called to him, more worried mother hen than anything else, grabbing at the sleeve of his hoodie and tugging him closer. "Stand near the back."

He wanted to object, to point out that just because he was an omega that didn't mean he couldn't fucking fight or defend himself. But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. The alpha who'd killed Stu was still out there and if his twin's statement on his video was true, then the alpha would be coming after Stiles. Best place for him to be was as far from the door as possible, hidden behind a few alpha S-Dubs.

Kira wrapped her arms around one of Stiles' and tugged him further back, pressing her body up against the side of his in a way that had Malia looking back at them with a sneer. He simply shrugged and shook his head, holding his free hand up to show he was completely innocent when it came to his current body position. The brunette scrunched her nose at him, a low snarl leaving her before she returned her attention to the door. Kira took the chance and snuggled even closer and Stiles patted her head in an awkward method of reassurance.

The car pulled to a stop outside, the engine shutting off seconds after, the door opening and closing not long after that. Laura silently moved behind the door, hand on the knob, peering at her brother. Derek had positioned himself right where the door would open, the first to greet the stranger. His eyes were a dull red, body hunched into attack position, claws primed and ready to sink into whoever was currently making their way along the sidewalk, up the stairs, across the porch...

The door flew open and Derek let out a snarl, snatching whoever it was and yanking them inside, slamming them against the door Laura had pushed shut. He got right in the stranger's face, growling and snapping his teeth before suddenly cutting all sounds off.

"Uncle Peter?"

Uncle Peter?

"Good evening, nephew," came a haughty voice full of self-entitlement, his manner of speaking almost too smooth. "Wonderful to see you as well."

Derek's body language relaxed and he backed away, releasing a man who apparently was Uncle Peter. Cora and Braeden put their claws away and Malia let out a groaned "oh god, why?"

Peter turned to her with a smirk, blue eyes sparkling within a classically handsome face. Light scruff covered the lower half of his face, dimpled chin on display, brown hair perfectly coiffed with an obviously expensive haircut. He was dressed in a tight black v-neck that was cut so low it would make a Hooters waitress blush, displaying chest hair he seemed to be very proud of. Dark wash jeans covered his long legs and Stiles could see the ends of a pair of very expensive looking black cowboy boots with silver toes.

"Always a pleasure to see you, sweetheart," he told Malia and Stiles didn't need to see her face to know she was sneering.

"Die in a fire," she responded in a saccharine tone and she also didn't need to meet Lydia. Stiles would never be safe again.

Peter turned to Laura, still smiling. "Such a wonderful child, so well-mannered."

The wonderful child in question flipped him off with a clawed finger before turning on a heel and stomping back to where she'd come from, grabbing Kira's hand along the way and dragging her with her. Deciding there was nothing else to do or see, Cora and Braeden followed suit, Cora muttering about there not being enough alcohol in the house for that evening.

Cheery. Totally optimistic. Really put Stiles at ease.

Laura pinched the bridge of her nose before sighing, muttering so low Stiles couldn't hear it. "Not that we aren't happy to see you," she began.

"Why are you here?" Derek continued for her, not nearly as diplomatically or well-mannered as his twin.

She folded her arms over her chest, nodding in agreement with him. "Last we heard you were in Oklahoma trying to be a cowboy."

"Texas actually," Peter corrected her, still wearing that same smug smirk. "Better nightlife. But when Talia called and told me the news about poor Stuart, I drove straight here to comfort my poor nephew in his time of need." He turned to Stiles then, smirk turning lecherous, blue eyes looking him up and down slowly. "Although I can see you don't need it."

A shudder raced down Stiles' spine and he only just managed not to give a whole body shake at it. There was just something so very... creepy about Peter, something that didn't quite sit right with him. He was almost too suave, too handsome, the attractive villain you can't wait to see lose but very much enjoy looking at, leaving you torn throughout the entire movie or TV show.

Derek's jaw clenched, fingers curving up into fists, aggression rolling off him as he glared at his uncle. But Peter didn't notice or didn't care, simply sauntered over to Stiles with his fingers steepled in front of his chest.

"And who might you be?" he questioned when he came to a stop closer than what was socially acceptable, even without bringing in the whole "unclaimed omega" thing.

He swallowed hard, refusing to be intimidated, holding off on the urge to look to Derek for help. He could handle this, could handle Creepy Uncle Bad-Touch. He wasn't a weak omega damsel in distress. He was fine.

But still. There as this thing called "Personal Space" and Peter was all up in Stiles'.

Without an invite.

Not that he'd ever get one though. Fuck no.

"Stiles," he replied, tone and features flat, not giving anything away. But his heart was pounding in his chest and if he was truly honest, there was a slight tremor in his voice, but again, the dude was literally two inches from making bodily contact and Stiles had literally just met him. Anyone would be nervous and uncomfortable in that position.

"Stiles," Peter repeated, smirk growing. "My, but you do look an awful lot like Stuart."

He snorted. "Well, yeah. Twins."

Blue eyes looked him up and down once more, a tongue darting out to lick his lips and that smirk became more lecherous than before. "Mm, yes indeed," he drawled, and Stiles gave in to the full body shudder at that.

"If you're done trying to verbally molest a guy whose brother just died," Derek snarked, stepping closer and wrapping a hand around Stiles' upper arm, gently pulling him away. The alpha glared at his uncle, jaw ticking, and Laura moved to the other side of Peter, eyes narrowed and analytical.

The uncle stepped back with his hands in the air, innocent expression on his face. "I meant no offense," he stated, heartbeat steady and scent practically nonexistent, just pure alpha, with notes of a leather car interior and expensive cologne. He fixated his eyes on Stiles, hand on his chest as he inclined his head. "I apologize if I made you uncomfortable, dear Stiles. It's not every day you meet an omega of your caliber."

A confused frown formed on Stiles' face and he opened his mouth to ask what the hell that meant exactly, but wound up being tugged away by Derek, leaving Peter to get an earful from Laura.

"Cora was right," the alpha muttered as Stiles got his feet under him and managed to walk rather than stumble. "There really isn't enough alcohol in this house for tonight."

Stiles had a feeling there wasn't enough alcohol in all of northern California.

Dinner surprisingly went better than expected.

Which wasn't saying much, since Stiles was expecting a whole bunch of awkward silence and creepy as fuck inappropriate comments from Peter.

The latter part still happened, of course, Laura flashing her red eyes at him more than once, Peter always responding with a snide smirk and a salute with his wine glass, mood growing more ill by the minute.

But the rest of it went rather pleasantly. When she wasn't trying to put her uncle in his place, Laura was sweet and kind, acting as a mother to everyone and the perfect hostess. Kira was chatty, her stories more of rambles than anything, with her constantly trying to double-back and redo whatever flub she'd just made. Malia smiled the entire time, endeared by her Mate's foibles and quirks, adding in a few comments of her own, though her's weren't quite as sweet, rather the biting remarks of someone who had a few issues with right and wrong.

Although considering Peter was her father, maybe it was a familial thing.

Cora brought up poker once more, getting rejected again by everyone at the table, making her roll her eyes. "Fuck you guys anyway. Stu was the only one worth playing. He could actually give me a run for my money."

"Literally," Derek murmured behind his wineglass, smirking.

"He was the only one I couldn't read for some reason," Cora pouted, stabbing at her lasagna.

"Maybe he was just good at keeping secrets and hiding things," Laura suggested, eyes flicking over to Derek, who gulped more of his red.

Braeden didn't contribute much, but when she did, it was with a level of sass and snark that would be offensive to anyone else had Stiles not grown up being a borderline asshole with sarcasm himself. He even had the chance to throw in a few remarks of his own, making everyone laugh and Derek hide fond smiles of his own with bites of food or wiping his face with his napkin.

Yeah, the evening wasn't a total disaster and Stiles felt completely at ease with everyone. It reminded him of group hangs with his own friends back home, friendly banter and good-natured jibes thrown at one another. The wine he was actually allowed—"You're gonna need it, sweetie," Laura had said while filling his glass nearly to the brim—helped to further calm any and all frayed nerves, and he let himself get lost in the moment.

Which was a terrible idea. Because he wound up feeling like he belonged there, that it could've been his every night—or every Sunday night, he mentally corrected, remembering Derek mentioning family dinners on that day—but it wasn't supposed to be. He needed to not get used to it. Was better that way.

Really, the only damper on the entire evening had been Peter, his inappropriate comments about everything, his every other sentence an innuendo that had Laura sighing, Cora rolling her eyes, Malia sneering, and Derek glaring. Yeah, Stiles wasn't really in the mood to spend any more time around that guy than absolutely necessary.

Thankfully he left once the food was gone, telling everyone he'd just meet them at the pyre, eyes roaming Stiles once more as he "bid everyone adieu". The omega scowled until the sound of his car faded into the distance, glad to be rid of him.

For the time being at least.

Everyone seemed to scatter, including Derek, whose phone rang and he stepped outside, stating it was work. With nothing better to do and not wanting to be rude, Stiles helped Laura clean up, stacking plates, utensils on top.

Laura peered at him as she gathered wine glasses, eyebrow cocked in a clearly Hale way. "You know you don't have to do that, right?" she double-checked, pausing to finishing off some wine that someone had left behind. "You're a guest. You're supposed to be off chatting with everyone else."

He shrugged, picking up his stack of plates and following her through to the kitchen. "In my house, the person who cooks doesn't do clean-up, everyone else does."

An amused snort left her at that as she headed straight to the sink, carefully placing the glasses to the side of it and gesturing for Stiles to put his stack inside it. "Wish that would ring true at my house, but I live alone so." She gestured with her hands in a "what can ya do?" way before shrugging it off and going back to the dining room, him on her heels.

Scratching at his forehead, he internally debated for a moment before giving in to his curiosity, figuring there was no harm really. "Yeah, uh," he began, working on gathering salad plates as she gathered more glasses. "Why are you and your Mate not together? If you don't mind me asking."

Leaning over the table, Laura shrugged, slight pout on her face to show it didn't bother her. "I don't mind," she answered honestly, heart beat steady, if not a little slower, her scent turning somewhat melancholic. "We met when I was in the Army and he was already married with a kid. He really loves his wife, is over the moon about his daughter, and I." She straightened up, sighing as she tucked her hair behind her ear in that nervous tic he'd observed earlier. "I didn't wanna ruin that. I wasn't about to play homewrecker and destroy this family or his happiness." With another shrug, she turned to him with a sad smile, green eyes more watery than they had been moments before. "It's not always how it plays out in the movies."

He snorted out a "no kidding" without even realizing it, face heating up with a blush as he sharply turned back to the table and focused on what he was doing once more. He hadn't meant to make it about himself, hadn't meant to call attention to his own not-so-romantic life bullshit, hadn't meant to make shit more obvious between him and Derek. But he had. Because he was Stiles and he was a moron like that.

Shit.

Footsteps grew closer, Laura slowly approaching him, stopping a chair away and leaning her side on the back of it. "Look," she began softly, her voice barely above a whisper so no one in the next room could hear. "My brother is a hard-headed, self-sacrificing moron, okay? He's been punishing himself for something that wasn't even his fault for as long as I can remember and while I've learned to tolerate it, I don't want his bullshit to start affecting your life, alright? Don't let him push you away out of some ludicrous martyr complex idiocy."

What the...

What?

Stiles frowned, eyes narrowing, lips parting and pursing as he struggled to figure out what the hell she was referring to. And why the hell she thought it was relevant to their current conversation.

Unless...

Jesus Christ, of course. Because twins. Because she'd already been suspicious of Derek and Stu, evidenced in that damn photo, so of course she was gonna pick up on the differences in the way Derek and Stiles behaved around one another. Derek had been quick to pull Stiles away from Peter when he became uncomfortable. Derek had sat with his arm around the back of Stiles' chair for most of dinner. They'd both tried to hide smirks and telling glances throughout the night, but Laura had picked up on all of it.

He was suddenly glad he didn't have an older sister. They don't miss shit.

She raised her eyebrows as if to dare him to say something, to lie about how Derek and his self-sacrificing behavior had nothing to do with Stiles or his commentary about Mates not being like the movies. But he couldn't. Because Laura was fucking right and he couldn't lie to anyone really, much less an alpha. An Alpha alpha, at that.

"Promise me you won't," she requested, locking eyes on his and he had to turn away from the intensity of her imploring look, gritting his jaw, refusing to make a vow he knew he'd end up breaking.

Because Derek wasn't the only self-sacrificing idiot between the two of them.

Footsteps nearing the room drew their attention and they both turned to the main archway, watching as Cora poked her head in, now in a black thermal shirt, tactical pants still on. "Sun's setting, guys," she announced. "We gotta go."

Laura nodded and gave an "all right", turning back to Stiles once her sister disappeared. She made to speak, but for once, he was the one to talk first and cut someone else off.

"We should get these plates soaking, otherwise that lasagna isn't gonna come off."

She looked dumbstruck for a moment, slowly nodding once when she recovered and understood his diversion tactic. "It's fine. Really good dishwasher," she reassured, phony smile on her face as she played along, probably figuring there was no way to go back to the previous topic, not if she had any sort of experience trying to do that with Stu.

And Stiles was worse with that shit.

"It's not you, is it?" he joked, smirking like a little shit.

She snorted and shoved his head playfully, grinning at his chuckle. "C'mon, knucklehead. Time to get this show on the road."

His mood dropped at the sudden reminder of where it was they were going and why. He swallowed hard, smile becoming shaky as he agreed. With a deep, tremulous breath, he tried to shore what little strength he had and followed her out the dining room.

Time to get the show on the road.

Oak Creek Memorial Garden was an area of forest sectioned off near the Mausoleum, most likely for convenience. No cars were allowed past the wrought iron gate—that was open at the moment, given the fact that a funeral was taking place that evening—so they all parked along the side of the street, walking through on the tarred road. The trees tapered off some several dozen yards in, the road ending and giving way to a giant field that was well taken care of and recently mowed.

Stiles looked around as he followed behind the two Hale sisters, Derek on his right, having to rely more on his wolf vision than his human one due to the twilight. The sky above was a purplish-blue, a few stars already twinkling, the tree line a black jagged silhouette cutting into the air. The acre-wide lot featured countless people Stiles didn't know and he was almost certain the entire town had shown up. Which made sense. Small community like this, a grisly murder that seemed so out of the ordinary in this otherwise idyllic place, the victim the Mate of a prominent alpha and the son-in-law of the State Alpha. People were gonna show, if not to pay respects, but to give in to their own curiosity.

He swallowed hard, ducking his head momentarily, not sure if he was glad for such a huge turn out or pissed that so many people there were only pretending they gave a shit about Stu.

Looking up again, his eyes came across the S-Dubs to one side, Aiden, Parrish and Lydia, Erica and Boyd, Jackson and Isaac, all giving him sad smiles and small waves, which he returned. Braeden, Malia, and Kira split off from the group to join them, all moving in a speedy yet subdued manner, even the usually bouncy Kira.

He briefly wondered who was manning the comms and cameras back at HQ since it seemed like everyone was at the funeral. He hoped to god there were some S-Dubs he hadn't met yet, otherwise they were all at a huge risk. With no eyes scanning anyone at the gate and no guards waiting with guns to stop anyone from entering, the entire town was vulnerable for attack.

Or rather, another attack.

Derek glanced at him, then followed his line of sight to the S-Dubs, then back to him, leaning closer to his ear. "Caitlin, Emily, Sean, and Josh are in charge right now," he reassured, causing Stiles to turn to him with a confused look. "They're our usual night-shift group. Or some of them anyway. They volunteered to watch over everything at HQ so everyone else could be here tonight."

"Ohhh. Okay." He gave the alpha a smile, feeling more at ease thanks to that explanation.

At least he could shove that paranoid line of thought away.

The four of them stopped walking when they reached the front of the crowd, stopping about twenty feet from where the pyre was already set up and waiting, a lit torch rising from the ground a few feet from each corner. Logs of white mountain ash wood were stacked and arranged to create a platform six feet high, where a body wrapped with gauze that'd been soaked in wolfsbane lay.

Stuart's body.

Stiles couldn't look at it, eyes falling to the wood, the bark stripped off, bare of leaves and twigs, and he knew he was distracting himself by thinking of stupid mundane shit, but... But it couldn't be helped. That was his brother on top of that pyre, his twin. Despite having seen his corpse at the ME's office, despite being right on it and feeling its cold flesh and lack of heartbeat or breath, he was still having a hard time accepting that Stu was gone, that all this was real, that it was his brother up on top of that stack of wood.

Fucking hell. He was about to watch Stu's body burn and turn to ashes.

Fuck.

"Can I have everyone's attention?!" Laura called out, standing in front of the pyre. The murmurs of distant, indistinguishable conversations slowly drifted to an end, all eyes and ears focused on the female who demanded it.

A grateful, yet sad, smile formed on her face and she inclined her head in thanks. "As Acting Alpha, I want to welcome everyone here tonight as we honor the life of Omega Stuart, born to the Stilinski Pack of Beacon Hills, California, and Mated into the Hale Pack of Oak Creek, California." She paused to clear her throat and gather herself and Stiles caught the scent of several people's misery and consolation.

It was worse than when he was a kid, when he wasn't entirely sure what was going on, just that his mom was gone and not coming back. Now, he was more familiar with loss, with what it meant and how it truly felt. He knew what was about to happen, knew what would come in the hours that followed, the days, weeks, months, years. It was gonna sting and burn and ache and he'd forever feel like he was missing something important, something vital. Even more so, considering who he was losing this time was half of himself, his twin.

"Everyone who knew Stuart knew what a good soul he was," Laura continued, voice strong and sure, pushing herself through it. He had a feeling it wasn't for vanity's sake or her pride, but for Stu, to honor him properly. "How intelligent and witty and talented he was, how determined and loyal and hard-working he was. Yes, he could be a sarcastic, cynical jerk," she admitted with a smirk. "But that just made us love him more. His life was cut far too short, further proving that old cliché that the good die young."

Stiles felt Derek tense beside him and he glanced over to note the haunted look on his face, green eyes fixated straight ahead at absolutely nothing.

"But his memory shall live on forever as long as we all remember him in our hearts," Laura proclaimed, drawing the omega's attention back to her. "And now, his Mate Derek wishes to speak. Derek?" She gestured to him then where she'd been standing as she stepped to the side.

Derek took the place she vacated, clearing his throat into his hand with his head ducked, seeming more awkward than any alpha, or son of an Alpha, had any right to be. But then again, it probably was. The entire town thought he was mourning a True Mate, yet once again, he was lying to everyone about it, all while his real True Mate was standing only a few feet away.

Okay, yeah, maybe he had a right to be awkward.

"Stuart was my best friend," he declared shakily, clearing his throat again and continuing on much stronger. "He was a good Mate, a great man, and he deserved much better than this." Swallowing hard, he turned to the pyre, addressing Stu, voice weaker than before. "I'm so sorry, Stu. I promised to protect you and I failed. I'll carry the guilt of that alongside your memory and I won't forget either. I'll miss you." He bumped his knuckles against a log then scuffled over to stand beside his sister, head hanging once more.

Stiles felt his chest constrict at Derek's words, at his regret and remorse. None of it was his fault. The alpha had done everything in his power to keep his word, to keep his Mate safe. It was all that stalker alpha's fault, all his doing. And the asshole wasn't done ruining lives, dragging Derek through Hell as he struggled with his guilt and the misplaced belief that he was somehow responsible for something that'd taken place while he was asleep.

It explained why Stiles kept catching the scent on him back in the beginning though. Not guilt over having killed his Mate, but because he felt responsible for it due to his self-perceived inability to keep him safe.

Shit.

Glancing away from Derek, he caught Laura's eye, watching as she cocked an eyebrow in question and subtly gestured to the unofficial speaking platform. He still had no idea if he wanted to say something, what he should say, if it was appropriate for this out-of-towner to speak at a funeral for someone who meant so much to apparently every single person in their small community.

His eyes shifted to the pyre, to his brother on top of it. His mind made up.

With a deep breath, he stepped forward, standing where Derek and Laura previously had, facing the crowd. And holy shit that was a lot more people than he thought it'd been.

Okay, no, this was cool, this was okay. He'd given a speech at high school graduation, had done spelling bees and quiz bowls and was even on the debate team for a minute. He could do this.

For Stu.

Yeah. For Stu.

"Uh, hi, everyone," he greeted awkwardly, waving at the crowd. "I'm Stiles. I'm Stu's twin brother. Obviously." He winced at that, scratching his forehead with a finger. Off to a great start, clearly. Okay, time to regroup. He could do this. Just say whatever came to mind. Wasn't like he hadn't mouth-vomited his way out of situations before.

He sighed, shoving both hands in his jeans pockets, hunching his shoulders up. "Yeah, my brother was an ass," he informed them in a plain tone, dropping his shoulders to their usual height. "Growing up, we were constantly fighting, disagreeing on pretty much everything. Except for a mutual annoyance at everyone getting our names wrong." He held his hand out in front of him, chuckling nervously and scratching the back of his neck before going on.

"But he was still my brother. He was the one who helped comfort me when our mom got sick then died and our dad was out of it. He was the one who unknowingly motivated me to learn to cook and clean and do laundry due to his overwhelmingly terrible ability to do any of it. He helped me with homework when I needed it, let me drive our Jeep more often than he did. He was the shoulder I cried on when I had my heart broken by a crush I'd had for about ten years." At that, he glanced over at Lydia, who gave him a small wistful smile and a nod to tell him he was doing all right and not completely fucking up.

"He touched so many lives over the years and I just." He paused, taking a deep breath and sniffing. His chest was too tight again, too empty, and too... Fuck, he didn't know. But his eyes were watering and his entire body felt off and his wolf was whimpering and whining and he just wanted to go home, to his home, curl up in Stu's bed and cry for a week.

Because he could do that, could go in his bed now. Wasn't like Stu was ever gonna use it, not like before when there was a chance he'd be coming back.

"I can't believe he's gone," he murmured absently, forgetting he was supposed to be making a speech, sniffing before speaking louder. "It just doesn't feel right," he went on, voice tremulous, thick. "It feels like half of me is missing, like it's been ripped from me and I'm never gonna get it back and." He paused, clearing his throat as a sheepish grin formed on his face. "Yeah, I have no idea where I was going with this speech. Just."

Sighing, he turned to the pyre, his back to the crowd, peering up and addressing Stu, and only Stu. "I miss you, bro," he told him, shaky smile on his face. "I love you and. Imee dewit finend wahat nomee begart."

"I will finish what you started."

With a resolved clench of his jaw, he turned to Laura and gave her a nod, signaling he was done.

The alpha looked confused but shook it off, letting out an "okay then" before gesturing to Cora. Derek joined Stiles on the other side of the pyre, and the four of them each grabbed a torch, standing at the four corners, Laura and Derek closer to the crowd.

"On this night of the New Moon," Laura recited, voice loud and true as though she'd done this dozens of times. "When our wolves are resting, may your soul find peace for all eternity and may your spirit find a home in the great beyond."

On cue, all four of them stepped forward, laying their torches on the pyre and igniting it. The flames crackled against the wood, spreading, growing, until every last piece of wood was burning.

Until Stu was burning.

He felt his back being nudged and he moved on automatic to the spot they'd claimed front and center, twenty feet away, Stuart's closest family and pack watching him as he turned to ashes, as his soul was laid to rest on a bed on mountain ash and wrapped in wolfsbane. Tearing his eyes away, he glanced to the right, noting how no one stood at the same close proximity as them, a respect thing. Same thing to the left, only one set of glowing eyes from the flames reflecting off their retinas as they stood at the tree line, leaning against a large oak.

Stiles' wolf snarled in his head, the first sound it'd made all night that wasn't sounds of distress or upset aimed in Stu's direction. And it wasn't hard to figure out why. Peter was staring right back at him, a lecherous smile slowly forming on his face.

He snapped his head back to the pyre, shuddering, wrapping his arms around himself. Derek stepped closer, pressing the side of his body along Stiles' in warmth and support and the omega let himself get lost in the flames, body numbing out despite the heat washing over him.