A Brighter Future, a teen wolf fanfic

Teen Wolf || Steter || Teen Wolf || Steter || A Brighter Future || Steter || Teen Wolf || Steter || Teen Wolf

Title: A Brighter Future – Stiles Summer Stories 2024

Tags: m/m, Erica Lives, Boyd Lives, Pack Feels, hurt/comfort

Main Pairing: Peter & Stiles & Erica (& Boyd)

Side Pairings: Peter/Stiles, Boyd/Erica

Teen Wolf Characters: Mieczysław 'Stiles' Stilinski, Peter Hale, Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd III

Writer's Month Prompts: wish + hospital

Summary: As children Erica and Stiles met in the hospital, Erica running from her tests, Stiles running from his dying mother. Together, they hide in Peter Hale's room. They become friends and, unbeknownst, they become Peter's pack.

A Brighter Future

Stiles Summer Stories 2024

Stiles was running and crying. She hadn't recognized him again, his own mom hadn't recognized him, had called him mean names and screamed at him to get out, so he got out. He ran as fast as he could, even though he didn't know where to. Until he saw a closet door, so he ran into it.

"This one is taken, find your own."

The voice in the dark startled him so much, it tore him out of his sad and angry thoughts. He turned on the light in the closet and saw a little girl, about his age, with long blonde curls. She was wearing a hospital gown and curled together small, looking as upset as he felt.

"It's a big closet," Stiles argued. "It could fit us both."

She looked up at him and frowned when she noticed his tear-smeared face. "...Are you okay?"

Stiles shook his head vehemently, face screwing up. "No. Are you?"

She wiggled her nose and then also shook her head. "No."

"Wanna talk about it?" Stiles asked, tilting his head.

Another shake from the girl. "I just wanna get away for a bit."

Stiles nodded in understanding. "Yeah. Me too. Hi. I'm Stiles."

He held his hand out and the blonde took it after a moment. "Erica."

And then the door opened and a nurse stuck her head in. Not Melissa, that was good, but most nurses knew him so chances were that word would get back to Melissa so he tugged on the girl's hand, prompting her to get up and then he bolted, and she followed.

"Where are we running?" Erica asked wide-eyed.

"The nurse will just tattle on us and I'm guessing you're hiding too, so let's hide somewhere else."

Erica just blinked at him, but she kept following. They ran until they reached patient rooms and then just ducked into a room. There was a woman in there talking to her visitor, so the kids ran off again. The next room, Stiles opted out right away when he saw the flowers and stuffed toys on the table; occupied. It looked empty, on first glance. No flowers, no chocolates, no cards, no personal belongings like pictures or trinkets. But then Stiles saw the man in the bed. Not moving, his face scarred. Stiles frowned at that. Did the man not have anyone…?

"Stiles?" Erica tugged on his hand when she noticed the man on the bed.

But Stiles didn't let go, instead he headed to the bed to read the chart. Peter Hale. Burn victim. Comatose. The frown on Stiles' face turned softer. Comatose meant he was asleep and didn't wake up. But why was the room so bare? Even if the man slept, why had his family not left things here?

"It's okay," Stiles whispered. "Let's stay here. Nobody will bother us here."

He grabbed one of the chairs and pulled it up to the bed, sitting next to it. It felt wrong to ignore the man whose room they were in. Curious eyes regarded the sleeping man. After a moment, Erica pulled the other chair up next to him and climbed onto it. She pulled her legs against her chest and wrapped her arms around them, frowning over at the comatose man too.

"What's wrong with him?" Erica asked in a small voice.

"I dunno," Stiles shrugged. "He was burned badly, and now he can't wake up."

There was a long pause in which the kids just sat in companionable silence, before Stiles' brain decided that was quiet enough. "What's wrong with you? You're wearing a hospital gown too."

Erica wiggled her nose, not looking like she wanted to talk about it.

/break\

Stiles had always been very bad at letting things go. If Peter Hale was burned, then his dad must have some file about it. So Stiles broke into his dad's office and went through the files until he found the file on the Hale Fire. He regretted it for weeks. The images of the burned bodies haunted his nightmares. The entire family, dead. Only three survivors. Two teens who had left the city, and Peter. That explained why Peter had nothing in his room, because there was no one to visit him.

Well. Not anymore. The next time he went to the hospital to visit his mom, he stole some of the flowers they'd brought his mom and then brought them over to Peter's room. He was surprised when he sneaked into the room to find Erica already curled together on a chair, hugging a teddy.

"Hey," Stiles greeted wide-eyed, lifting up the flowers.

Erica grinned weakly, holding up the bear. "I was… I was sad that he didn't have anything. Every time I have to go to the hospital, mom buys me some new stuffed toy. I don't need so many. But Peter looks like he could use a teddy, right? His name is Mister Snuffles."

Stiles smiled at her and nodded. "Yeah, I think he'd like Mister Snuffles."

He pushed the chair up to the sink so he could get a glass from the cabinet above it and then fill it with water. He put the flowers into the glass and then put them on the nightstand next to the bed, before dragging the chair over so he he could sit down next to Erica.

"Hello, Peter," Stiles greeted. "I brought you flowers. They're… from my mom. Well, they were for my mom but we always bring her flowers and she has so many in her room already, so I thought I'd bring you some. They're pretty. They're red gladiolas. Red's my favorite color, I picked them."

"What are you doing?" Erica asked confused. "He's asleep."

"No," Stiles shook his head. "He's in a coma. That's… That's different. I looked it up. Some say that people in comas are aware of what's happening around them, so you're supposed to talk to them. It can help them wake up."

"Oh," Erica scrunched up her face, before she turned toward Peter. "Hello, Peter. I'm Erica."

It made Stiles grin. He kicked his feet back and forth as the two kids started talking to Peter, and to each other. Telling the man about their lives and then interjecting questions to each other's stories. So Erica was here because she had epilepsy and she regularly had to do stupid tests that she hated, and her parents were super overbearing so whenever she had a seizure, they'd bring her here too, and they made her see a therapist about it all and she really hated it.

In return, Stiles talked about his mom, for the very first time. There was no one to talk about his mom with. His dad and grandparents and Melissa, they all treated him like a stupid child. Acting like she was just sick and that she would get better and that everything was okay. She was dying and Stiles knew it and nobody told him the truth because everyone saw him as just a kid. And Scott, he couldn't talk to, because Scott was this puppy-eyed, innocent kid whose world didn't need to shatter with death and disease yet, Stiles couldn't burden him like that.

But Erica and Peter, he could talk to. He could tell them how he really felt.

/break\

For months, did Erica and Stiles sneak away from where they were supposed to be and meet in Peter's room. They would just sit with the man, tell him about their days, tell each other about their days. And then they would wish. They'd wish for a brighter future for them all.

A future where Stiles' mom's health would improve.

A future where Erica had no more seizures.

A future where Peter would wake up from his coma.

A future where neither of them would have to return to the hospital ever again. And, unbeknownst to the two children, Peter was wishing for that future too, for all three of them.

/break\

He was alone, surrounded by flames that licked his soul. The screams of his family as they died around him were the only things he could hear for so long. At one point, he had heard voices, also his family, Laura and Derek, and they had apologized, told him they would leave. Peter didn't understand. Had that been a nightmare? Surely, if they were still alive – he hoped they were still alive, they were only kids, after all, god, the kids, he'd held his infant nephew as the baby took his last breath, a raspy sound as smoke filled his lungs – if they were alive, they wouldn't leave.

They were pack. Pack was important. Pack was all they had. They'd stick together.

But… nobody came. The screams in his mind were the only thing he could hear. The nurses and doctors coming in and leaving were a droning white noise not fully penetrating his mind.

Until there were new voices. Different voices. Not as indifferent as the doctors. Soft, young voices. Filled with pain but also with that childlike curiosity. They talked to him. He heard his name. They called his name and talked to him. It was hazy at first, but the more often they came, the more he understood of what they were saying. When they told him about their school days and about their current hospital visit. How the boy's mother was doing worse, how much the girl hated her tests.

They kept coming back, sitting at his bedside and talking to him and with every visit, Peter felt himself growing stronger, more present. Someone was there, for him.

"Hello, Peter," the girl spoke. "I… I'm sorry. I'm going to be the only one visiting from now on."

Peter's breath hitched, even in his comatose state. What had happened to the boy? Was something wrong? Was his pack hurt? He needed to wake up, he needed to help-

"She died," the girl's voice dropped, sounded shaky. "H… His mom died, yesterday. Her funeral is next week. H… He wanted to come and say goodbye, but all of his mom's family came all the way from Poland to say goodbye to her and he can't get out of it. B… But he… he'll be very busy… and… and very, very sad… for a long time. He says he'll try to visit, but…"

Peter felt his heart break. He couldn't see them, didn't know how old they were, but judging by their stories they were in elementary school. They were both so young. Neither of them deserved to suffer, especially not a loss like that. Even though he'd been aware that his mother was dying – despite all the adults in his life apparently trying to shield him – knowing it and actually experiencing it were two very different things. Peter could hear small sobs and he wished he could wrap the girl up in a hug, tell her that it would be alright, that they'd help their pack-mate.

/break\

Erica felt lonely. For months, she had a real friend in Stiles. Every week, they sat together in Peter's room. But after Stiles' mom died, he stopped going to the hospital. He had no reason to go to the hospital anymore and he was too young to just go there all on his own. There were other reasons too, of course. She could see it on his face whenever she passed him in school. He looked broken and haunted and hallow, with bags under his eyes. He'd lost his mom, how could he possibly focus on being there for Peter or Erica? How could she expect it.

She hugged her mom fiercely and cried into her lap the first time she realized that. Realized that moms could die and just be gone. And even if she hated that they were so overbearing and didn't let her do anything, she would hate it so much more if they were just gone.

So she went to visit Peter alone, and he became her confidant. When things got more rough because of middle school, because girls started wearing bras and make-up and talk about boys, while Erica was so… on the outside, was so different, was so alone, she could sit with Peter and tell him.

/break\

It took Peter years to recover and only when he felt the presence of an Alpha wolf in his territory did he wake up enough to leave. Not fully in control, more on auto-pilot. He needed to heal, he needed to recover. He could do that if he were an Alpha. He could protect his pack if he were an Alpha. Small sobs and sad children's voices clouded his mind as he killed the Alpha.

Erica. That was Peter's first clear thought, when he returned to his hospital room, the Alpha power running through his veins, he could feel it speeding up the healing process. Pack.

He went out, to find pack. A pack of three was too small, two betas, especially human betas, weren't enough. Erica and… and the boy. What was his name. It had been too many years since he'd last visited, but that was okay. He wasn't like Derek and Laura, he hadn't left Peter behind on purpose, he'd just been a child, a pup, and lost his mother. Peter was going to find him, and make sure the pup was safe, was dealing with the loss.

That night, he followed a scent, a scent that he couldn't shake, that seemed eerily familiar, and by the end of the night, he'd attacked and turned a teenager. A part of him, the small slowly recovering part of him, was mortified by that. By just blindly turning someone without even being capable of explaining the ramifications of the bite to the other person. A teen, a kid, at that.

That night, he decided that he couldn't go looking for Erica and the boy. He couldn't go looking for his pack. Not yet. He wasn't healed, he wasn't safe for them to be around. What if he attacked them, what if the Alpha instinct in him made him turn them against their will, alienating his pack from him. He couldn't. He had to stay away from them, until he was… better. So they were safe.

/break\

He'd turned a boy named Scott McCall. Derek had returned to investigate Laura's death – Peter had killed Laura, Peter had killed his niece, he still remembered the little girl with the tooth-gap who struggled with the P sound and called him 'uncle 'eter', but he also knew that she had been his Alpha and she chose to abandon him in that damn hospital for six years, never visiting, not even having him flown out to New York to be with them. Apparently, Derek took Scott under his wing, more or less. Doing an awful job of it, but trying his best, bless his grumpy little heart.

Peter smiled, dangerous and threatening, as he approached Stiles. Scott's best friend. The clever one who kept putting everything together for Scott. Something about Stiles intrigued him. The scent, it was so soothing, so eerily familiar, but Peter couldn't place it as he stalked up to the doe-eyed boy.

"Peter," Stiles whispered and there was too much familiarity to the name.

It gave Peter enough pause for Derek to get to the hospital, push Stiles out of the way and attack Peter and just like that, Peter had more important things to focus on.

/break\

Stiles was just so tired. So tired and angry and confused and sat and frustrated.

Peter had been the Alpha. Peter Hale. In the hospital because Kate burned his whole family. Stiles should have solved it earlier. He had the copy of the file in his bedroom for so many years, but after his mom's death, he… he hadn't thought about Peter in a long time. If he had, if he'd solved it earlier, then Laura wouldn't have returned, wouldn't have died. Peter wouldn't have died.

Because they killed him. They killed Peter. All of them, together. Because Peter was feral.

And Stiles was just filled with so much anger. Peter had gone feral because he was a wolf without a pack, abandoned by Laura and Derek for years, and then the Argents returned and they kept hunting and hurting his family and Stiles got it, he got why Peter killed Kate, he would have killed Kate too if he were in Peter's place. But Derek couldn't forgive Laura's death, and everyone was scared of what Peter was capable, would do next – he'd attacked Lydia – so they killed him.

And Derek. Derek was the Alpha now. Derek was turning people now. Turning teenagers. First Isaac Lahey, then… then Erica, then Boyd. Stiles heaved an even more tired sigh, rubbing his face.

"I'm sorry," Stiles whispered softly as he came to sit next to Erica.

He was aware of Boyd's watchful eyes. The three betas stuck together like glue. Stiles envied that a little bit. Erica frowned at him, feigning that she had no idea what he was talking about. They hadn't spoken about it yet. But there was something she needed to know.

"What are you talking about, Stiles?"

"I'm sorry I never came back," Stiles clarified, biting his lip and turning away from her. "We were friends and I abandoned you and I'm sorry. I shouldn't have. But after my mom died…"

"I get it, you lost her, you had more important things to do than take care of me."

She sounded bitter, but she also sounded like she meant it. Sometimes, a person could understand another's motivation but still be angry at the way they made them feel. Stiles smiled sadly.

"It was so much more than that," Stiles' voice dropped and he couldn't believe he was going to tell this to someone at all. "After her death, my dad started… drinking. A lot. A lot. And I… I took care of the household, of him, of myself, I was… so in over my head, Erica. I didn't know what I was doing, I was drowning in my own grief and handling things no ten year old should. It took my dad years to get sober and get help and by then, we were in different middle schools and we hadn't spoken in two years… I am sorry that we lost touch. You… You were really important to me when I was losing my mom and I'll never forget that, Erica."

"I… didn't know," Erica's face screwed up like it used to when she was little.

For a moment, Stiles had to smile at the memory of that little girl he used to know. He tentatively wrapped an arm around her shoulder and she leaned into him. He allowed a moment of solace before he would get to the painful part that he'd come here to tell her.

"I… I wanted to talk about Peter," Stiles whispered. "I know you know that he disappeared from the hospital, I checked his visitor's records and… and you kept visiting him to the end…"

"He was just gone," Erica frowned. "One week, he was there and I was telling him about what a little bitch Jackson is, the next week, his room was just… empty. Our stuff was all that was left in it and the nurse – new nurse, not his regular nurse – said that he disappeared. How can a comatose man just disappear. It's not like he can just walk out of the hospital."

"Yeah, about that…" Stiles' face did a complicated series of expressions. "You may have noticed the shared last name. Peter was Derek's uncle. Peter… Peter was also the Alpha before Derek. And… Derek took the power from him when we… killed him."

Erica in his arms froze and he launched into a very detailed retelling of everything that had happened since Scott and Stiles had walked into the woods that fateful night. Everything that Derek had left out when introducing his betas to the supernatural. Not out of malicious reasons, Stiles was sure – he more or less liked Derek, most days – but there was too much pain and personal trauma there for Derek to share with anyone willingly. But Erica needed to know. Because for six years, Erica was the only one who had visited Peter, every week even after she became a teen.

By the end of his tale, she was sobbing into his shoulder. Mourning the loss of a man she never had gotten to meet. And a fleeting part of Stiles wondered if it would have changed anything. If his presence would have changed anything. If he had continued visiting Peter, he would have noticed the improvement of his healing, he would have gotten suspicious, he might have figured it out, maybe he could have prevented Peter from killing Laura and then Derek wouldn't have killed Peter and Erica wouldn't be crying in his arms right now and they could have gotten to know Peter.

/break\

It felt different, being back alive. He felt more right. More in tune with his wolf, his instincts. More… at ease. The feral edges were gone, his sanity was, more or less, back. There were parts of it he may never recover, because the memories and the trauma were something he would carry with himself for the rest of his life. But the part of his insanity caused by the abandonment, by being basically an omega for six years – and bonds with two human children were just not enough to tether him, he would have needed an Alpha, would have needed other wolves too, though he knew, deep down, that the torture of his coma would have been unbearable if he hadn't had them.

He smiled lazily to himself as he sat on the stairs of the burned out Hale House, listening to Derek and his betas fight. Not that that itself necessarily made him happy – Peter did want the new Hale Pack to be united, to be strong – he didn't even necessarily want to see his nephew fail, but there was still a strange sense of pleasure in someone standing up to Derek and telling him he was full of shit. That kind of spitfire delighted Peter immensely.

"We're leaving, Derek," the girl spat. "We're going to look for a pack somewhere else."

Three betas, Derek had three betas. All teenagers. One would think Derek would have learned from Peter's mistakes – and Peter absolutely counted Scott as a big mistake, if he hadn't turned the boy, he might have never died in the first place, but no use dwelling on the past. Two of Derek's betas wanted to leave, the mated pair, from his observations.

"We can't trust you," her voice was filled with so much rage, it delighted Peter. "I mean, how could we? How could we trust you to have our back when you abandoned your pack!"

Peter paused, curious, tilting his head. "I know you left your uncle to rot in that hospital and I know you killed him to become Alpha. But I don't know from you, you never told us that. Stiles told me. We're leaving, because I don't know how to trust someone who turned his back on his pack in the past – pack who was family, so what are we. We're done."

Him? He was the reason the betas were leaving? Peter was baffled as he listened to the teenagers storm out. Well, color him surprised. And Stiles had told her about it? Why would he do that? The boy had helped kill him, after all. Then again, Peter did feel a strange pull toward the boy. Even before his death, he had been unable to harm Stiles at all. It was peculiar. He wanted to investigate that. Not now though, for now they had a lizard problem to take care of.

/break\

Peter hummed lightly to himself as he sauntered back into the warehouse, Gerard Argent's blood on his claws. The man had tried to slither away, but while everyone else was focused on the curse-breaking kiss between Lydia and the now former kanima, Peter slipped out to track the hunter down and kill him. When he returned to the scene, he was in a good mood.

At least until he noticed the way everyone was leaving. Derek, hunched over and hurt, was leaving together with his only beta, the blonde boy. Scott was trailing after the huntress with a puppy-dog look on his face. Lydia and her boyfriend were walking away too.

The only one left was Stiles, leaning against his Jeep. Peter tilted his head as he walked over to the boy. The boy who was driving him crazy. Bad choice of words. But then, it did feel accurate. Even before he had returned from the dead with enough of his sanity to make rational choices, he had been able to control himself around the boy. Never laying a hand on him, not killing him, unable to turn him against his will. And he sought Stiles out. He didn't have to kidnap the boy to get Scott's location, he could have figured that out in a different way. But after the boy had found him in the hospital, had looked at him with those pretty, wide doe-eyes and whispered his name so softly, Peter found himself drawn to the boy. There was a bond, that much he recognized at this point.

"Why are you special?" Peter asked as he crouched down in front of Stiles.

The boy startled so hard, he hit his head against the Jeep. And then it was Peter's turn to startle as he saw the bruised face. Furrowing his brows, he reached out without even thinking. Gently tracing the bruise. Stiles frowned at him warily, like he didn't know what Peter was doing. Peter didn't know what he was doing either. Why was he feeling so protective of this boy. Sure, Stiles was clever to boot, snarky and sarcastic, incredibly loyal – all qualities Peter cherished. Yet still.

"Who did that?" Peter asked.

"I fell down the stairs," Stiles sneered. "Why are you alive? How are you alive?"

"Didn't like being dead," Peter shrugged, tilting his head. "So I came back. Don't worry. I'm not dangerous. Well, unless you cross me."

"I helped kill you," Stiles pointed out. "Feels like crossing to me."

"Eh," Peter shrugged once more, getting up. "I forgive you."

" What," Stiles stared at him incredulously. "Why would you do that."

"Because you're special," Peter looked down at the boy. "And I can't figure out why."

"What does that even mean," Stiles groaned, hitting his head against his Jeep with purpose.

"I don't know," Peter offered him a hand. "Get up. I'll drive you home."

Pack. The moment that Stiles willingly reached out for him, taking his hand, it clicked. Pack. That was why Stiles was special, because Stiles was pack. How could he be pack? Peter barely had a thin and fragile pack-bond with Derek. How could he have a bond with Stiles, and one this strong? He stared wondrously at Stiles, getting lost in those honey-whiskey eyes as he helped Stiles up.

Stiles went to the passenger seat without complaint, folding himself small. Quiet and compliant did not suit the loudmouthed teen, Peter decided. He furrowed his brows, watching the boy. Not speaking either, because Peter didn't know how to verbalize this sense of pack. Or how to explain it.

Far as he knew, Stiles and Scott had joined the Hale Pack, so it made sense there would be a pack-bond. He'd felt an incredibly feeble bond with Scott snap earlier in the warehouse. But why was this so strong? Why did he have such a strong pack-bond with Stiles?

"Is your father home?" Peter asked as they pulled up in the Stilinski driveway.

"No," Stiles shook his head. "He's… at work."

Peter hummed and got out of the car, rounding it to help Stiles out. The boy glared viciously at him for the attempt and then stalked past him. Good. Better. Spirited was better than compliant. It felt more like Stiles. Why did Peter know what Stiles was supposed to be like, he barely knew the boy.

"Will you let me check your injuries?" Peter asked when they entered Stiles' bedroom.

A heavy sigh from Stiles. "You're not going to leave me alone until I let you, don't you? Some weird, annoying werewolf instincts to make sure your pack's safe."

Peter stared at him, surprised by the acceptance, and nodded. The boy sighed again, even more annoyed, but he pulled off his shirt and then stood there with his arms spread, waiting. Peter's touch was gentle and careful as he prodded the bruises, making sure the ribs were only bruised and not broken. Stiles' breathing picked up and there was a curious scent of arousal as Peter's hands wandered over his sides and chest. Peter did his best not to smirk or tease, concentrating on his task.

"Okay," Peter nodded pleased. "Nothing looks like it needs stitches and nothing appears broken."

"Thanks, Doctor Hale," Stiles deadpanned. "So, can I go and take a shower then?"

"Need help?" Peter raised an eyebrow, smirking.

"You wish," Stiles snorted, flipping him off.

The boy disappeared and once the bathroom door closed, Peter went to the kitchen and rummaged through it until he found everything he needed to make a broth for the boy. His wolf demanded he take care of Stiles. By the time Stiles was done with his shower, Peter was sitting on his bed, the bowl of broth on the nightstand. Stiles raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him.

"You're still here."

"So observant, clever boy," Peter chuckled amused. "Sit. Eat. You need your strength to heal."

Stiles rolled his eyes at him, but he still sat down cross-legged next to Peter and started eating. Peter was content sitting there, quietly watching Stiles. For the first time since the fire, he felt a strong, proper pack-bond like that and he was not letting it go again. His mind wandered, to Erica and to his boy. Now that he was no longer feral, he should go looking for them. Strengthen his pack.

"When you're here anyway…" Stiles sighed, once he was done with eating.

He put the bowl aside and then walked over to his closet. He pulled his chair up so he could climb onto it and every instinct in Peter told him that this was not a good idea for the clumsy flailing boy. Yet he managed to pull a shoe-box out from the top of his closet and return to Peter. He decidedly didn't look at Peter, even as he shoved the box into the wolf's lap.

Peter frowned doubtfully. "What… is this? Are you giving me your old shoes?"

"It's your stuff," Stiles shrugged, folding himself smaller again. "I went to the hospital, after you… After we killed you. Last bound of recon. They were… They wanted to toss it out, since you'd been missing for too long at that point and they decided you must have been miraculously cured and wouldn't be found again. I grabbed it before they could throw it out."

The frown on Peter's face deepened as he opened the lid. A third bouquet of flowers, tried. The flowers his boy had brought him on their second visit. When they'd started wilting, Erica had suggested drying them because dried flowers were pretty and would last longer. The teddy bear, Mister Snuffles, worn down from years of Erica hugging it while sitting at her side and talking to him. The book his boy used to read to him from. The assortment of cards that Peter had found on his nightstand and desk when he had woken up, from scrawny, self-made cards in child-like handwriting, to prettily crafted cards that Erica must have made later on as a young teen, when she talked about getting into crafts, as much as her parents allowed her (they didn't allow her scissors, too afraid of her cutting herself or stabbing herself if she had a seizure). Peter blinked startled when something wet dripped onto the bear. Reaching up, he traced his cheek to notice he was crying.

" Thank you," Peter pressed out, voice raw and vulnerable in a way that scared him. "You… You have no idea how much this means to me."

"It… It does?" Stiles' voice was small.

Peter knew that the nostalgia and the vulnerable, soft, warm feeling of pack were what compelled him to open up to Stiles. "You may find it hard to believe, but there once were people who cared about me. Who chose to care about me. I had… a pack. It was… small and not traditional, but… there were two children and they chose me, for whatever reason, they sought me out to be their solace and they became my solace in return."

"Y… You remember," Stiles sounded startled.

Peter hummed his confirmation, even as he went through the box. He froze when he turned the oldest card around, the card that the children had dropped off with him at Christmas. There was a tree drawn with crayons, a large star at the top. On the back, it said Merry Christmas Peter! From Stiles & Erica. He stared at it bewildered, then looked up at Stiles.

"I didn't take your stuff just for fun, I took it because Erica and I gave it to you," Stiles' face screwed up. "I was feeling guilty, about the part I played in your death, and the… about everything. That's why I went back to the hospital for your things. Because it felt like I could have made a difference, if I had come back, if I'd been there, after my mom died, but I couldn't and-"

"Stiles," Peter interrupted gently, resting a hand on Stiles'. "Slow down, breath."

The boy took shaky, hiccuping breaths and slowly calmed down, eyes squeezed shut. His boy. Stiles was his boy, the boy who had sat by his bedside and read books to him that no ten year old should already be reading. The boy who had left after his mother had died, but Peter never resented him for it, only ever felt compassion for the small child who had to adjust to a life without his mom.

" That is why you're special," Peter's lips quirked. "I've tried figuring you out, ever since we met at the hospital. Why you would look at me like that, say my name like that. Because you recognized me. And I… My wolf recognized you. That's why I could never hurt you, why I kept feeling drawn to you, because you're my pack. I didn't want to go looking for Erica and my boy… you, for you, I suppose, because I thought I was a danger. After I turned Scott, I was afraid to hurt my pack."

For a moment he paused, hugging the teddy bear closer. "Where is Erica? Are you… Are you two still friends? I remember, the last time she was by, she talked about being in a few classes with you and wanting to reach out but not knowing how…?"

Stiles' breath hitched, his eyes widened and the sour scent of panic rolled off the boy in waves. " Erica. Erica. Erica and Boyd. They're… They're still in the basement, he still has them-"

"Stiles?" Peter carefully took the boy by the neck holding him in a soothing grip. "Slow down and tell me what the problem is. What's with Erica?"

"They're in the basement," Stiles repeated insistently, panicked. "The Argent basement. Where… Where I was. Gerard, he had them too, he had me and them and he was-"

"Why would Gerard Argent take Erica?" Peter blinked confused. "How could he know about her?"

Stiles' eyes widened more, and Peter was stunned that this was even possible. Those big doe-eyes were large enough under normal circumstances, but now? Wow. Peter stared into them.

"You don't know," Stiles whispered, blinking. "Erica is part of the pack. The Hale Pack. Derek turned her, to cure her epilepsy. Which actually worked. But yes. She's one of Derek's betas."

Three betas. One girl. The spitfire girl, who had given Derek such a verbal lashing earlier. Because of Peter. That made so much more sense now, if that had been Erica. He'd simply assumed it was about distrust, because how could one trust an Alpha who in the past had abandoned pack. But it was personal, because Erica knew him, cared for him. Erica was his pack first.

Peter shook his head, trying to focus. "What do you mean took them."

"I don't know," Stiles sighed shakily. "Boyd and Erica were in the basement, they were… strung up on electricity and… and I tried to get them down, but I couldn't… When Gerard was done with me, they dragged me out of the basement and dumped me in a ditch near my house and I just… I was barely at home when Lydia came and I drove her here and I… I didn't…"

Boyd was her mate, who had left with her. Peter took just a moment to be happy that she had a mate, had found someone who was hers. And then he focused on the task at hand again.

"Okay, I'm going to get them," Peter got up. "I'll get them and bring them here. You, stay here."

Stiles tilted his head as he stared at him with a frown. "Be… careful."

A small smile spread over Peter's lips as he nodded shortly.

/break\

Erica's loud and angry and emotional reaction when Stiles had told her about Derek's uncle had surprised Boyd. He'd asked, after. Before they had told Derek they would leave. As children, Erica and Stiles had sat at Peter Hale's bed together. She'd done it until he disappeared. Because this comatose man had become a sanctuary to her, where she could leave her life behind.

And somehow, he understood that. He understood that she had lost someone she cared about, even if she didn't actually know the man. She had formed a bond with him, of sorts. And it broke his heart that she had lost that. Never had a chance to get to know the man.

So he understood why she wanted to leave. Wanted to get away from her overbearing parents, who had gotten even worse after her epilepsy got magically cursed. All the secrets were eating away at her, just like they were at him. He didn't mind running away, things at home had been broken since Alicia's death. He'd hoped the pack could be a new family. And in a way, it was.

He loved Erica, loved her more than he ever thought was humanly possible. He cared about Isaac too. About Stiles. He did admire Scott. Derek was tricky, part of him admired the Alpha, a part of him didn't like the way Derek handled a lot of things.

But if he had to chose, between staying and seeing if Derek would improve but losing Erica, or going with Erica and having her, then he had to choose her. He'd always choose her.

They ran away, just to be hunted down by Allison, of all people. Their own classmate. Scott's girlfriend. And, after that, Boyd was kind of reconsidering his admiration of Scott, because how bad was his taste in women if she hunted werewolves for sport and fun. She'd thrilled in hurting them, her father had to tell her to stop. How blind was Scott to be a werewolf in love with a hunter who had no qualms torturing her own classmates if they were wolves?

They got thrown into a basement, hurt, tortured, electrocuted. And then the hunters also threw Stiles in there. And even though he was human, Stiles tried to save them, tried to protect them. Distracting Argent from them with his wiseass ways. In that moment, Boyd felt warmth and kinship flood him and he understood, he understood why Erica cared so much about the sarcastic little shit.

The hunters had dragged Stiles out and let him go and not long after, Allison's father came down, shame in his eyes, as he let Boyd and Erica go. He took hold of her hand and together, they ran.

"There you are, wayward pups."

Both startled and whirled around, coming face to face with a man. Erica gasped, grabbing Boyd tighter. He growled lowly and pushed himself between the stranger and his mate. The stranger flashed his eyes blue, a smirk on his lips. Erica clung tighter onto him.

" Peter," Erica's voice was filled with wonder and surprise.

"Erica," the man's voice softened, filled with… love. "It's good to finally get a face to the voice, my girl. Come, both of you. Stiles sent me to collect you two. We're going home."

Boyd remained rooted to the spot, holding Erica's hand tightly. Peter? As in the dead uncle because of whom they had run away in the first place? The reason Erica had grown distrustful of Derek? And Boyd had too, because her doubts seemed very justified. But Stiles had said the man was dead.

"You're Peter?" Boyd asked warily. "Peter Hale? The dead Peter Hale?"

"What can I say, death didn't suit me," Peter shrugged nonchalantly, cocking his head. "Will you two now please get into the car. I don't like that I had to leave Stiles alone. He's hurt."

The reminder of Stiles, of Stiles being hurt, got both Boyd and Erica moving and they walked up to the man like in a trance. Erica kept staring at him like he was a ghost, which Boyd guessed he was. Or something like that. He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand, soothing her.

"How are you alive?" Erica asked when she stood next to the man.

Peter tilted his head, an unbearably soft expression on his face. He reached a hand out to cup Erica's cheek and she leaned into it, blinking away tears before she broke and threw herself at him. Peter laughed gently, wrapping one arm around her waist and cupping her neck with the other.

"I've wanted to do this for so long," Peter whispered, choking on emotions. "My darling girl, I'm so glad to finally meet you. For so long, you were my only pack. You have no idea how much you meant, how much you kept me going when I had nothing else. You and Stiles, the bonds you formed with me, I can never thank you enough for them."

Erica's eyes were impossibly wide, her mouth a little open. Boyd didn't know what to make of it, he kept watching them, concerned and confused. Not understanding what was happening here.

"W… Wow…" Erica blinked and rested a hand on her heart. "I can… Why is it…"

"Because it's old," Peter smiled at her, caressing her neck. "Your other pack-bonds are new and young, but our bond has been growing strong for six years now. Your bond with Stiles should also feel different, maybe be stronger. I don't know what your relationship has been like lately."

Erica's face screwed up as memories of the past months must be going through her head. Boyd reached out again to take her hand, causing her to look at him with those big eyes.

"I can feel a pack-bond with Peter," Erica whispered. "It's… It's super strong. Like, as strong as ours, but… different, definitely very different."

Peter laughed, startling them. "You two have an entirely different type of bond. You're mates."

Both teens turned to stare at him surprised at that. Mates? That sounded… Right. Boyd frowned at that. It did sound right, even if he didn't know what it meant, it felt right. Peter stepped away from Erica, urging them into the car – Stiles' Jeep, Boyd noted surprised. More proof that he was telling the truth then, that Stiles had sent him. Peter drove them to a house.

After parking, Peter ushered them inside and upstairs. Photos on the fall clued them in that they were in Stiles' house. They reached a bedroom, where they found Stiles, vigilant and curled together and looking so bruised and broken. Erica keened as soon as she laid eyes on him, throwing herself at him the same way she had at Peter. She buried her face in his neck and he relaxed. Boyd felt a pull that drew him to them, to sit on Stiles' other side and join the hug.

There'd been a gentle, soft thread that tethered him to Stiles and Scott before. But in that moment, as he held Erica and Stiles like that, he could feel that tether growing strong like a rope, taunt as it tied him to Stiles. What they'd gone through in that basement, it cemented a bond.

"We're pack," Stiles mumbled against them, nuzzling them.

But his eyes went over Erica's shoulder, resting heavily on Peter. Like he was telling the man, reassuring him. Boyd watched, curiously. He felt like something monumental was happening in that moment and he felt warm and reassured to be a part of it.

/Ten Years Later\

"Peter! Peter Stilinski Hale, if you don't get down here right now, I swear! If I'm late to my godson's birth because you took forever to do your hair, I am divorcing you! Pe… Oh."

Stiles trailed off as he walked into Peter's office. The Alpha stood in front of their glass cabinet of pack trophies. A small smile spread over Stiles' lips as he saw the framed wedding pictures of Scott and Allison, Boyd and Erica, Jackson and Lydia, himself and Peter, Kira and Malia. Trinkets and souvenirs from their adventures through the years, symbols of what they overcame. The highest shelf though was reserved for children's cards and dried flowers and an old stuffed bear. Wait.

"Why did you take Mister Snuffles from the shelf?" Stiles frowned at his husband.

"I figured," Peter cleared his throat, closing the cabinet and taking Stiles' hand. "I thought baby Heath could get more use out of Mister Snuffles than this dusty, old shelf does."

A small smile spread over Stiles' lips as he leaned against his mate. "That's sentimental of you."

Peter growled softly at him, flashing his eyes red. Not that it did anything but make Stiles roll his own eyes. Ever since Peter had become an Alpha again all these years ago, when the Alpha Pack had come for them, Stiles had been his rock and his Alpha Mate. The toddler in Stiles' arms giggled when he saw his daddy's red eyes, reaching out for him. Peter smiled softly as he leaned down to kiss Jamie's head, pulling his mate and son close.

"Let's go," Peter said. "Erica is going to be mad if we're late. And Boyd must be freaking out."

~*~ The End ~*~

Author's note: Oh, the combo of Stiles and Erica bonding in the hospital and Stiles visiting Peter in the hospital were amazing to work with, especially in combination!