Sugar for the Secretary Chapter 4: The New Pack Mom, a teen wolf fanfic

Teen Wolf || Stetopher || Teen Wolf || Sugar for the Secretary || Teen Wolf || Stetopher || Teen Wolf

Title: Sugar for the Secretary – Stiles Summer Stories 2024

Tags: m/m/m, polyamory, AU/heavy canon divergence, post-Nogitsune, Bad Alpha/Friend Scott, Stiles leaves Beacon Hills, Spark Stiles, Pack Mom Stiles, Alpha Peter, magic, sugar daddies, fluff, hurt/comfort, PTSD, explicit intercourse, anal, oral, m/f

Main Pairing: Chris/Peter/Stiles

Side Pairings: Boyd/Erica, Jackson/Lydia

Teen Wolf Characters: Mieczysław 'Stiles' Stilinski, Peter Hale, Chris Argent, Allison Argent, Derek Hale, Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd III, Isaac Lahey, Jackson Whittemore, Lydia Martin, Cora Hale

Writer's Month Prompts: sketch plane

Summary: Stiles finally got out of Beacon Hills, after he had a fall-out with his own pack. He moves to London for a fresh start and gets a job at as a personal assistant to a lawyer, Peter Hale. He didn't expect for Peter to be an Alpha, or to find a new pack and even less so, to fall in love.

Sugar for the Secretary

Stiles Summer Stories 2024

Part 4: The New Pack Mom

Peter's wolf was practically wagging its tail as he looked at Stiles, in the black skinny-jeans and the tight-fitting thin hoodie. Spring was going to look good. It was high-quality, not the quick off-the-shelf from a cheap chain that Stiles tended to go to for his clothes. No, now that Stiles was in his pack, his boy was going to be spoiled rotten. Even more so than before.

"No singular shirt should cost that much money, Peter," Stiles heaved a sigh and gave a glare.

"Do you like the shirt?" Peter asked instead, raising both eyebrows. "Does the material feel good against your skin? Would you want to wear it again?"

Pretty brown eyes narrowed at him. "...Yes."

"Then it is worth that money," Peter replied with a pleased smile.

Stiles heaved a sigh, he'd walked right into that one. Tilting his head back, he closed his eyes, just to hit a firm chest with his head. Blinking his eyes open, he looked at Chris upside down. The hunter had an amused look on his face, even as he wrapped an arm around his waist. Peter appreciated just how pretty his mates looked together. Even if Stiles wasn't theirs yet, officially.

Today's shopping trip wasn't the Alpha boss who had the urge to provide for his newest employee, or even a pack Alpha providing for his new pack-mate. No, this was a werewolf desperate to court his perfect match, gain another mate for himself who was as perfect as his Christopher.

"You do look lovely in it, doll," Chris commented. "Let us spoil you."

Heaving an even deeper sigh, Stiles seemed to relax against the hunter. "Fi—ine. You two are horrible. You spent far too much money on me—What is that, Peter Hale, put that away."

The grin on Peter's face just stretched wider when he held up the exquisite red leather jacket. "Call it a pack initiation. Every member of my pack owns a leather jacket. It is sturdy, it protects from the cold, the rain and superficial slashes from the supernatural. You're still missing yours."

Chris grunted his agreement before Stiles had a chance to protest. "Derek, Boyd and Erica bought Isaac his jacket last week already. C'mon, sugar, indulge your Alphas."

"It's Alpha-red," Stiles pointed out with raised eyebrows.

Most of the pack had black leather jackets, Lydia stood out with a soft-brown colored one that complimented her hair because looking good was more important to her than matching the theme. But Stiles? Stiles needed to be red. Peter needed his little Spark in Alpha-red, all his.

/break\

Jackson was reluctant, pacing in front of Stiles' room. He wanted to go in, but also felt a bit awkward. Erica and Boyd had latched onto the guy, Cora had totally decided to keep him, Allison and Lydia had quickly befriended him, but Jackson was… Jackson wasn't good at this whole friendship thing. Before the pack, all he had was Lydia. Then Lydia had befriended the new girl, Allison, and dragged Jackson along. There hadn't been a new person in years.

When Lydia passed him in the hall and gave him a pointed glare and an encouraging kiss on the cheek did he finally raise his fist to knock on the bedroom door. She gave him a proud smile before continuing on her way to their own bedroom. He could do this whole friendship thing.

"Oh," Stiles linked when he opened the door. "Hey. Something I can do for you?"

He stepped aside and Jackson followed in. The room finally looked personal, not like a guest room anymore, after the pack had gone to shop for furniture for Stiles and Isaac. There were pictures on the wall, not just the painting he'd bought but also framed photos of a pretty, brunette woman, a man with deep smile lines and a kid that was very obviously Stiles. Clothes all over the trunk at the foot of the bed, where Stiles kept the more dangerous magical things locked away in.

"I wanted to talk to you about…" Jackson made a bit of a face. "About your… possession."

Stiles stumbled a little and landed with an oompf on the bed. "What. Why. No? Why?"

Now came the part Jackson hated. "When Peter first gave me the bite, it didn't… take."

A frown settled on Stiles' face, but he looked attentive enough. Listening to what Jackson wanted to say. This wasn't something he wanted to talk about, but he'd been talking to Lydia about talking to Stiles. Something about the way Stiles spoke of his own possession reminded Jackson too much of what had happened to him, he'd even had a couple sleepless nights about it again.

"I didn't turn into a werewolf, I turned into something called a kanima," Jackson got comfortable on Stiles' bed but kept his eyes on the window instead of the other boy. "It's kind of… a lizard creature that has no will of its own. Instead, it has a… master, whose orders it fulfills."

Taking a shaky breath, Jackson grabbed a fistful of Stiles' sheets, adamantly staring out the window. "The pack was trying to figure out how I could be 'immune', since that wasn't a thing according to Peter. Meanwhile, some guy from our school had gotten control over the kanima and was using it… using me… to kill people. The pack was battling the kanima without knowing what it was, or who it was, while also trying to figure out what was going on with me. It took a while before… before Lydia and Peter came across the kanima in their research and put together that it was me. By then, I had already… been used to kill multiple people."

He could hear the hitch in Stiles' breath and was grateful that the Spark didn't actually say anything. The last thing Jackson wanted was pity or anything like it. His jaw set tightly in frustration, the angry coil in his stomach burning like fire, as it always did when he remembered this.

"I died. Before they broke the curse, I died for a while. But they figured out how to… how to get me out of there, Lydia became my anchor and helped me back and then Peter kind of redid the bite and this time, it took and I got my second chance, as a werewolf," Jackson whispered.

When he chanced a glance at Stiles, he saw that the other was absentmindedly tapping his fingers. Jackson didn't like that habit, none of the pack did. They knew it had to do with the Nogitsune.

"I don't know what it's like to have a presence in your head," Jackson continued after a beat. "I was just never aware of it, I was checked out when the kanima was in control. But I do know what it's like when someone else uses your body against your will and kills people with it and you're left afraid of losing time and control again."

Silence stretched on between them, the sun outside slowly setting and painting everything in pinks and oranges. Stiles scooted closer to him and after a long time, he wrapped his arms around Jackson from behind and buried his face between the other boy's shoulder blades.

"It sucks," Stiles mumbled. "I really fucking sucks."

A hiccuped laugh and Jackson nodded. "Yeah. It really fucking does."

/break\

Cora was bent over her most obnoxious essay of the semester, her head hurting. The noises of Jackson, Allison and Boyd playing video games in the living room only made it all the more frustrating. But she had to finish this stupid essay. She'd even left her room to do it, claiming the dining room table – because there were no distractions in the dining room. She had left her phone upstairs and only took her notepad, laptop and books to the otherwise empty table.

"Hey, Cor," Stiles walked in, clutching something to his chest. "Do you have a moment?"

Pushing her laptop away, Cora turned toward him with an intense gaze. "Yes. What's wrong?"

His heart was jumping hard and irregular, a sign of nervousness. Well, Stiles' heart always made fast and irregular motions, which was a combination of his ADHD and his anxiety, but with time, Cora had learned to recognize which irregularities were regular for Stiles and which indicated more.

"Uhm, Peter, Derek, do you guys also have a moment?" Stiles asked, only a bit louder.

Tilting her head, Cora regarded Stiles curiously as they waited. When Peter entered, he was pulling Chris after himself by the hand, because of course he was. Especially when it came to their Emissary, Peter and Chris could not be separated. They hovered. It was very annoying. Cora thought they should just put appropriate courting gifts in front of him – not leather jackets or laptops, these were practical things that were too easy to misunderstand as Alphas taking care of their pack member, but a nice, big deer they hunted themselves, for example – and declare their intend. Make Stiles their official Pack Mom. But no, Cora's uncles were stupid.

"What's up, Stiles?" Derek asked when he sat down next to Cora.

Peter took the seat on Cora's other side, while Stiles rounded the table to stand in front of the three Hales. He was clutching what looked like a book of sorts to his chest. Books were usually something he just talked to Peter and Chris about. Emissary stuff. Why Cora and Derek?

"When I was like fourteen, my ADHD decided that scanning all of our family pictures was absolutely vital and I could not rest until I was done. It sure was a way to spend my summer vacation," Stiles offered a very wry smile. "But that paid off in the end when Isaac and I had to make a fast exit, because I had all my family pictures on a thumb drive."

"Ho—old on, are we going to look at baby photos of Batman? Why didn't you call us!"

Erica gave a whine in protest and stormed in, Lydia and Allison hot on her tail. Amusingly enough did Jackson, Boyd and Isaac follow too, though at a slower pace. Cora rolled her eyes at the way uncle Peter perked up at the prospect of seeing cute, chubby baby Stiles pictures. Love-sick fool.

"No," Stiles chuckled, his eyes sparkling. "This isn't my family album. This is Cora's."

Cora straightened up, wary and a little confused. She could feel the tension from other pack members, especially her brother and uncle on either side of her, as the pack regarded Stiles.

"Like I said that… first day, at the café, Cora and I went to school together. I've been… for the past couple weeks, I've been going through all my family pictures, to find any that featured Cora and her family," Stiles explained, cheeks flushing as he put the book on the table. "I put them together for you. I figured that… after the… after the fire you don't really have family pictures anymore."

Cora's fingers were shaking a little and she was holding her breath as she opened the book that turned out to be a photo album. The very first picture was their class photo from first grade, all these toothy grins with school cones, Cora somewhere in the second row and, looking for him, she spotted Stiles five to the left of her, an arm around a boy with a crooked jaw. She was so small, so young. She'd forgotten what a horrible hair cut she'd had back then, with the bangs.

Turning the page, there were photos from inside the classroom. The parents had been allowed in on the very first day, to look at their kids at their tables all ready for school. Stiles was in the foreground of them, but all the pictures on the pages had Cora somewhere in the background too.

On the next page, Cora choked up a little. It was some school play, Cora didn't even remember being a part of but the silly costume she wore as she stood next to Stiles and four others indicated that she must have. She looked… happy. Like she was having fun, playing the scarecrow as pictures upon pictures of the play littered the next few pages. Apparently, Papa Stilinski had been very excited that his son was in a play and Stiles as the cowardly lion looked absolutely adorable.

"That is so cute," Lydia cooed. "I want this picture, big, to hang up in the living room!"

It were Dorothy and her three companions all standing with proud smiles next to each other to bow for the audience at the end of the play, a good close-up that showed both Cora and Stiles happy. Cora blinked and turned the page, eager to see what else was in the album.

"Oh wow, Peter you looked hot when you were young," Erica whistled.

It was some park, some kind of school festival probably? And on the picture, Peter was arguing with a man who looked absolutely annoyed while Peter grinned smugly. Stiles laughed.

"That's my dad. Peter was the bane of his existence, lawyer and all," Stiles' eyes wandered to Peter for a moment. "Mom took the picture because she absolutely delighted in dad's exasperation."

Derek and Laura were on the pictures too, sitting on a picnic blanket that laid right next to the one Stiles' dad and Stiles were sitting on. Derek made a soft noise as he looked at himself and his sisters, all happy and carefree together like that. The noise turned more pained when they reached a picture with their dad sitting next to Derek, an arm around his shoulders, laughing.

It was the next page that made Cora cry, unable to hold the tears in any longer. Her mom, front and center, an arm around another brunette woman, both of them smiling into the camera. Her fingers were shaking so badly as she rested them hovering over her mom's face.

"Our moms really hit it off during that class barbecue," Stiles' voice was soft and filled with grief of his own. "You guys spent the rest of the day sitting with us, that's why I have a lot of pictures of it."

Her chair scratched on the wooden floor when Cora got up abruptly and walked around the table. As soon as Stiles was within reach did she pull him into the tightest hug, burying her face in his chest to hide her tears and sobs. He tentatively laid his own arms around her waist.

"I forgot," Cora choked up. "I forgot what her smile looked like. Thank you, Stiles."

Stiles just held her, held her until she was calmed down enough to no longer be crying. Once she could breath normally again, she went back to her seat, eager to see all the other pictures in the album. Day trips to museums or the lake. School events that not just Cora but her family had attended. Pictures of her parents, whose faces had been slowly fading from her memory.

/break\

Erica hummed happily, sandwiched between her two favorite boys. Her mate was pressed against her back, broad hands on her hips, his breath warm where it huffed against her shoulder. And in front of her was Stiles and she was curled around him. The Spark smelt like his magic and Erica always found that very pleasant and wild. In such a short time, he had become her favorite person, after Boyd. Though Jackson had been Erica's best friend since forever, Stiles just clicked with her.

"Why am I the little spoon?" Stiles complained sleepily.

"Because I am not the little spoon," Boyd stated dryly. "This is the cutlery order, Stiles."

It got him a sputtering laugh from Stiles. Erica rubbed her nose along his neck happily. In their pack, they regularly slept in each others' beds, to make sure they had the packs' scents. Tonight, Erica and Boyd had gotten to steal Stiles away.

"I don't feel like getting up today," Erica declared softly. "Here is happy. I wanna stay here."

Boyd made a concerned noise at that, dragging his lips over her shoulder. "You okay, babe?"

Shaking her head, she buried deeper into them. "I had a bad dream. The electric shock yesterday…"

They'd been renovating the attic for days now, because Stiles kept culminating more magical artifacts and other important Emissary stuffy that his trunk and his cabinet were overly full and the shelf he had in the library for his books was also about to burst. Something had gone wrong and there'd been a livewire and Erica had received a shock. Peter and Chris had brought her to her bed and held her after the epileptic seizure she'd had after, one by one the rest of the pack joining in once she was calmed down. Electricity always overwrote her werewolf and the shock to her system sent her back into a seizure. By the time night rolled around, her and Boyd had their bed back to themselves, but she had requested a comfort Stiles for herself.

"Jacks told me," Stiles whispered, rolling over to face Erica, concerned. "What do you need? Like, do you wanna talk about it, with someone who wasn't there every step of the way, or do you just want a distraction, or do you want comfort? What's your poison, Catwoman?"

She blinked at him curiously. Peter and Chris always took first comfort, because the scent of the Alphas, the safety of them, helped her calm down. Then Boyd would join, because mate. And the rest of the pack would just pile on. After, they would drop by food or something but they would also always be kind of a little awkward, never really knowing how to help. She… hadn't really thought about that before either though. She just tried to avoid it, and it had only happened like three times since she became a werewolf, so it wasn't something that came up a lot.

"I hate to remember how… weak and helpless to my own body I was, as a human," Erica admitted with a frown, leaning back against Boyd, who held her close. "That's nearly as bad as the feeling of the seizure itself, because it feels like it's… like it's taking everything away from me that I worked so hard for? Like I'd… lose myself? And then I'm just… afraid."

"Okay," Stiles nodded, eyes sharp and attentive. "What do you need to not be afraid?"

That took a little longer, because normally, Erica just hid in her bed until she felt normal again. "I don't know? I just… stay in bed with Boyd until I feel better."

Tilting his head, Stiles nodded. "Okay. Do you want me to leave so you can just be with your mate, then? Or do you want me to get you anything?"

"I want you to stay," Erica bit her lips. "You smell powerful. That feels safe. Like how Peter feels extra safe, because Alpha. But your magic got that powerful scent too. Plus, you smell… new. I mean that, you weren't around back when I was that way. Your scent is like a reminder that things have changed since then? That I am not that helpless person anymore because you're here."

"Okay," Stiles offered a small smile and snuggled closer. "Powerful new scent stays, then."

"Powerful new scent stays," Erica nodded in agreement, burying her face in his neck.

She could feel Boyd smiling against her shoulder from behind, just a comforting, soothing presence.

/break\

Boyd was carrying a couch over into the corner of the attic. It had taken forever to clean out the attic, so much had gathered up here. Everything that wasn't really needed but couldn't be parted with. Chris had overseen, with a very stern glare, how they actually went through it, threw the unneeded stuff out and everything that really needed keeping went into the basement.

They'd painted the walls a soft teal, cleaned it all up, made sure Stiles had electricity and running water up here with a small sink in the corner since too many spells required water. Now, all that was missing was the furniture. As soon as he put the couch down, Erica and Cora flopped down on it.

"Hey," he gave his mate a small glare, just to be pulled into a kiss.

Erica pouted a little. "Cora and I just helped put together the desk, we are allowed to rest some. The instructions were all in Swedish, there was no English version on it."

Huffing, Boyd turned his back on the girls and instead headed over to Stiles, who was fumbling with an actual black cauldron. Smiling at the Spark, Boyd took it from him, earning a grateful look.

"That thing is heavier than anticipated," Stiles panted softly, rubbing his forehead.

"C'mon, you can park yourself on the couch with Cora and Erica," Boyd offered.

"Nah, big guy," Stiles grinned, brushing his arm against Boyd. "It's my magic space, I will not let all you wolfies do all the heavy lifting on your own. That seems unfair."

For not being a werewolf, the boy had great instincts for pack. He never forgot to scent them, he always made sure to seek them all out individually too, not just when they were in a pack-pile. Smiling at the other, Boyd rested his hand in the back of Stiles' neck for a moment, rubbing.

"We also don't want you to strain anything, darling," Peter noted with a frown.

Boyd slowly let go of Stiles, mostly so the Alpha could scent Stiles himself. It was no secret that Peter was possessive of Stiles, he had been from the get-go since first introducing the boy to the pack and that possessiveness only got stronger after Stiles joined the pack and became Emissary. Peter was fully radiating MineMineMine energy and every wolf in the pack had noticed.

"I am not actually that breakable, Peter," Stiles glowered at the Alpha and raised his chin. "C'mon, Boyd. You're gonna help me carry up some of the books."

Peter gave an exasperated sigh, but he let Stiles and Boyd head downstairs toward the library, where Stiles' magic books were for now. Some in a shelf, but due to just how many Peter and Chris had been buying for Stiles lately, there were entire boxes of books stacked up too.

"Why do you keep arguing with him?" Boyd asked amused. "You know he's just trying to look out for you, right? You are more breakable than us wolves."

"Carrying some boxes isn't going to break me," Stiles snorted. "I like that he's watching out for me, but sometimes, him and Chris are bringing a bit too strong an energy in there. I have effectively watched out for myself since I was eight. I'm an independent person. I'm getting used to the whole people caring for me and wanting to help thing, but… I don't need to be protected from everything. Sometimes it feels like Peter would growl and bare his fangs at a book if it gave me a paper-cut."

"...He would," Boyd agreed dryly. "He may bring back book-burning for that."

Stiles choked on a distressed noise. "If he ever destroys a single book of mine, I will turn him into a chihuahua for at least a week as punishment! Actually, that goes for all you rabid puppies!"

That made Boyd laugh and bump his shoulder into Stiles. It was weird just how easy it was to be with Stiles. They were so different in personality, but then Boyd and Erica were too and they were a very happy couple. Actually, there was a lot of similarity between Stiles and Erica, even though those similarities were still very different at the same time. They were loud, cheerful, had a lot of energy and were social butterflies, but they did all of that in very different ways.

"I'm glad you're part of the pack," Boyd whispered as he started packing books into boxes.

Stiles blinked at him surprised, before offering a bright smile. "So am I, big guy."

It was quiet for a little while, Stiles handing Boyd books after very carefully wrapping them in cloths. Boyd was not going to question it. Some magic artifacts needed protection. Two books had touched earlier and there had been sparks flying everywhere, scaring the shit out of the pack. Stiles had just said that 'the books don't like each other, they shouldn't touch'. Which didn't make it better. A bemused smile spread over Boyd's lips as they worked together.

"You doing alright, big guy?" Stiles asked softly. "Erica yesterday was… scary. For me. And I can't imagine what it must have been like for you, being her mate and all."

She'd made them hide out in bed all day yesterday, after the shock she'd received the day before. For a while, the three of them had just napped. And then there were sandwiches, brought by Isaac and Jackson, who joined them for a Batman: The Animated Series marathon in bed.

"I'm fine," Boyd swallowed with a thin smile. "We all got, you know, baggage. We're all dealing with it somehow. It sucks, that we can't… do more for each other. I can be there for her, hold her, but I can't take the pain or memories away and that sucks."

Stiles hummed softly and nudged into his space more, rubbing their sides together. "I know. But you did everything you could to help her and today she's doing much better. That's all you can focus on and all you should focus on. Take the victory."

Boyd grunted and nodded. Stiles was right. He smiled a little, feeling comforted himself.

/break\

Chris' eyes wrinkled with the smile on his lips, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned casually against the wall. He had not yet been noticed, Stiles far too in his head and books to notice anything around him. Honey-whiskey eyes were fixed on the words in front of him while his hands moved around, grabbing ingredients and other things to shift them around in front of himself. Chris loved watching Stiles do magic, be that his Spark magic or using magic this way, brewing potions, performing rituals. He knew what werewolves looked like in all states, but this? Magic? It was still so new, so exciting and fascinating to watch. Not to mention Stiles himself, Stiles all focused like that, was absolutely stunning. Pushing off the wall, Chris approached him.

"What are you working on, doll?"

Stiles yelped and pushed off his desk so suddenly, his chair tilted back too far and if not for Chris gripping the back of the chair, his Emissary would have landed on the ground. At this point, they all had learned to adjust to Stiles' flailing and knew to catch the Spark when he was about to fall.

"Chris," Stiles' voice pitched a little. "When did you get up here?"

"Ten minutes ago," Chris quirked his lips. "I put a plate with a sandwich next to you and you didn't notice, so I figured I'd… stay and see. But it seems you are a little too focused. So I thought it'd be better to interrupt you, to make you actually eat the sandwich."

"Oh," Stiles blinked those pretty, big doe-eyes at him and then looked at the sandwich. "Uh. Thanks, Chris, but I'm not really hungry right now?"

"Breakfast was six hours ago, Stiles," Chris furrowed his eyebrows. "Eat the sandwich, doll."

Rolling his eyes, Stiles stared at Chris, just trying to will him into giving in. Chris had been raised by Gerard Argent, he was not being willed into giving in by a bratty, stubborn Spark. Raising his eyebrows, Chris went and leaned against the desk instead.

"Is this payback?" Stiles glowered and grabbed the sandwich, stuffing half of it into his mouth.

Chris made a soft noise at just how much sandwich fit into that mouth. "What."

"For, you know," Stiles motioned with the other half of the sandwich. "Me force-feeding you guys sandwiches during construction of the attic? You were all 'nooo I am so focused on working right now, Stiles', and I was like 'eat your sandwich, Christopher'. Is this payback?"

That made Chris laugh, dark and rich. During the construction phase of the attic, Stiles had been banned from helping. The boy's flailing was not a good combination with power-tools. Chris had overseen construction and allowed the betas to help out, but benched Stiles. Stiles had given payback my making sure everyone was well-fed at least. Stepping up behind Stiles, Chris wrapped an arm around his shoulders, tilting the boy's head back so he could kiss his forehead.

"Yes, Stiles," Chris smiled amused. "Me caring about you is 'payback' for you caring for me."

/break\

Lydia smiled pleased when Stiles put a coffee and a bagel down on her desk, giving her a cheerful wink before he sauntered off into Peter's office. Honestly, she was so glad to have him. Suggesting that Peter take on a secretary had been self-preservation, because the double duty had been eating her up. She was Peter's Left Hand, she took her duties of aiding her Alpha very seriously. But it was just too much, not all of it was pack-related – a lot was, that was what made the position to tricky. Somehow, they had found the perfect person for the job. Even before Stiles became their Emissary, he knew how to juggle pack-related appointments and lawyer-related appointments.

"He—ey, babe," Jackson grinned as he walked up to her, grin fading a little when he spotted the bagel. "Aw. I figured we could eat breakfast together, I bought you… also a bagel."

"Stiles was faster than you," Lydia tilted her head. "I'll put one bagel aside for later. Peter and I have a very stressful appointment later on, I may need the treat."

That appeased her mate. Werewolves. Always disappointed when they couldn't provide for their mates. Lydia rolled her eyes affectionately and accepted the bagel to put aside for later. Jackson leaned over the table to kiss her and then sat down opposite her to eat.

"Something's up with Stiles," Jackson said two bites in. "I know you noticed. You always notice everything first. So if even I noticed, you have to have noticed."

A thin-lipped smile and a short nod. "He's hiding something. For at least two weeks, maybe a little longer. But I don't know what yet, and it's infuriating."

Jackson hummed in agreement, nodding and taking another large bite from his own bagel. His feet stretched out under the table, one of them hooking around her ankle, gently caressing. Lydia smiled and leaned into the touch, her hand resting on her coffee cup.

"He's been burying himself more and more in his books. Ever since we finished the attic, I feel like we barely see him in the rest of the house anymore," Jackson said, displeased. "And he keeps saying it's 'Emissary work'… and that's not a lie, exactly, but it still feels off."

Peter's office door opened and Stiles came rushing out, leaving the building. Lydia sighed and took another bite from her bagel. He was the perfect secretary and he was an important addition to their pack. He looked out for them all and his magic had protected them both at home and at the firm. There was something going on with him that had him more frantic than usual and she wished she could help him. But there was no helping him unless he opened up and let them.

"He—ey, Jacks," Stiles grinned as he walked in again. "Sorry. Didn't greet you there earlier. Our fearless leader is having an annoying video conference so I went ahead and bought him his favorites from the market. Blackberries. And then I saw these. Here."

He put a bowl of blueberries in front of Jackson and a bowl of strawberries in front of Lydia. Both their favorites. She aimed a bright smile at Stiles and watched the way Jackson ran his hand down Stiles' arm, scent-marking him. Stiles knew their favorites and thought to bring them to them. A soft sigh escaped her as she watched him run back into the office.

"We gotta make him talk," Jackson declared with a frown. "I do not like to worry about him."

Lydia huffed softly and ran her foot up Jackson's leg. "We will, don't worry."

/break\

Derek stared with furrowed brows. Stiles was… loud, annoying, quite the asshole if he wanted to be (and he wanted to be most of the time), he tended to gloat when he was right (and infuriatingly enough, more often than not, he was right). Everything about the kid should absolutely rub Derek the wrong way. It did, for the most part. For the rest of it, he found it irritatingly endearing.

Perhaps because it reminded Derek of uncle Peter when the man had been younger. When the man had essentially been Derek's best friend. A bastard to boot, always so smug and sure of himself, arrogant about it too. And still the most important person in Derek's life, before the fire.

"He—ey, Sourwolf. You are being decidedly more… sour… than usual. What's up?"

That annoying nickname, Derek had no idea how to make Stiles stop calling him that. Trying to glare the boy into submission was not working, if anything, it had the opposite effect. Derek sighed and looked up at the Spark when Stiles walked in. He was carrying a book, again. These days, it was near impossible to see him without a book or his laptop. It was starting to worry the pack, because sure, Stiles always researched something and he dove right in once Chris and Peter started buying him pretty much any book Stiles wanted. But there was something off about it, this time. It didn't seem as casual, it had a more obsessive edge to it, the way he couldn't even lay the books down, seemed to be researching even during dinner. When prodded about it, Stiles would just laugh and declare that the hyperfixation demons had him in their grasp. Which didn't fully register as a lie to the wolves, but it also didn't sound like the entire truth. Allison was the one who kept smiling and reassuring the wolves that whatever it was, Stiles would tell them when he was ready.

"I…" Derek glared at the object on the living room table. "Keep looking at it."

"That's why I made it for you guys?" Stiles blinked, confused.

The photo album. The last surviving pictures of their family, captured by Stiles' family. Reaching forward, he rested a hand on one of the pictures. It had Laura draped over Cora with a cheeky grin, while Cora tried to squirm away. Stiles stood next to them, laughing. Derek wasn't in the picture.

"I was such an ass," Derek frowned. "Laura was so annoying because she was older and acted like she knew better. And Cora was so annoying because she was small and kept following me and I felt… uncool… with my little sister at my heels. I missed out on so much."

"Oh," Stiles sighed and sat down next to him. "I may be an only child, but I think I get it. You were a teenager back then, early stages of teenager, which is, like, the worst, because you start to feel like you should be more mature but you don't actually have a concept of what that means and what to do about it. Late stage teens get… a bit… more the hang of it."

"If I hadn't been like that, I could have made more happy memories with them all, with our parents. But hanging out with my annoying sisters and my parents was… I just wanted to play basketball and spend time with my girlfriend."

"Yo—ou had a girlfriend?" Stiles cracked a teasing smile. "Tell me everything about her, especially her name so I can track her down on facebook and pester her."

Rolling his eyes, Derek gave Stiles a light shove. "Her name was Paige. And she is… dead."

The smile slipped form Stiles' lips. "You guys keep telling me that I took every trauma up for grabs, but you're quite the contester yourself, huh? Can I ask… how?"

"She got attacked by an Alpha. Because I dragged her into our supernatural mess. And there were… It was… He bit her, but she rejected the bite," Derek looked up at Stiles and flashed his eyes blue. "I have a reminder of her, for the rest of my life."

Stiles' face twisted in realization and grief. The next second, he was latched onto Derek like a damn octopus, long limbs wrapped around him and hugging him tight. It shouldn't feel as good or as comforting as it did. Derek buried his face in Stiles' neck.

"I saw her, on one of the pictures, in the background with me," Derek admitted softly. "She'd come to see me because I was so bored with the little kids event. And just… seeing her again…"

"It wasn't your fault, Der," Stiles mumbled, his voice muffled by Derek's chest.

Derek just grunted and hugged the Spark tighter, desperately wanting to believe his words. As much as Stiles should annoy him, the kid was damn reliable and always got Derek's back.

/break\

Allison could see how tired Stiles was. At this point, the whole pack could see it. The bags under Stiles' eyes were turning darker from sleeping too little because every minute he wasn't busy with work – either as Peter's secretary or as the Emissary of their pack – or spent being there for the pack, Stiles was burying himself in his research. Unlike the rest of their pack, Allison knew what that research was about though. Or at least she hoped she knew.

She didn't want to bring it up again. The last full moon had been an opportune moment to talk because all wolves were safely in the basement, in the steel cells they kept there. Though most of the pack had near perfect control, in a city as big as London, it was better to be safe than sorry. If one of them broke out and wreaked havoc or worse yet accidentally attacked someone, that would be a disaster for the entire pack, and for the entire community. That meant however that Stiles, Allison and Lydia had been the only ones upstairs in the house, because Chris always stayed with the wolves the entire night. And while Lydia took a nice, long rose-water bath, as she tended to on full moons, Allison and Stiles could speak, certain nobody would overhear them. On a regular day, there was at least one pair of curious werewolf ears perked in the house at all times. Allison wasn't going to risk that, she was going to respect Stiles' decision to keep this to himself, for now.

He needed time. Time to sort out his feelings and time to formulate a plan. Stiles didn't do anything without a plan, she'd come to learn and appreciate that about him. It had become a great asset to their pack on the rare occasions that they did have to fight an enemy.

"Katniss! On your three!"

Rolling her eyes fondly, Allison adjusted her stance and hit the sadly very adorable beast with an arrow straight-on. It went down wailing, Peter, Derek and Boyd quick to pounce on it. With a wince did she put down her bow. She could see her father's worried eyes from across the plaza, but before he had a chance to get to her, Stiles was already kneeling by her side.

"You are supposed to be long-distance. Be more long-distance," Stiles chided sternly.

Another fond eye-roll, this one accompanied with a quirk of her lips. "Yes, mom."

There was a significant pause, Stiles' fingers shaking a little where they were inspecting the wound on her biceps, his breath hitching just a bit. The wolves' attention was on them too now, Peter's eyes red as he fixated her. Biting her lip, she looked down at her bow.

"I'm sorry," Allison whispered. "I didn't mean to… I know this is probably a sore topic for you…"

"On account of my dead mother, or of being kicked out of my last pack for being Pack Mom?"

Stiles' voice was snide and bitter, but his fingers were deft and more sure now as he worked on her injury. He was applying some kind of salve to it that stung like a bitch and burned a little. But the beast's claws were poisonous, they'd known that when they went after it, so whatever this was, it was most likely saving her arm. She liked her arm. The pack was watching them more intensely now, not stepping closer as though Stiles was some easily spooked animal.

"Have I…" Stiles trailed off and licked his lips. "Have I been moming you guys…?"

"I mean, Lydia comes to you to bitch about Jackson. Jackson comes to you to bitch about Lydia. Erica uses you like her comfort blanket when she is feeling down. You've been making Boyd talk when he usually remains stoically quiet when something is troubling him. I have seen you hug Derek on multiple occasions and usually, I'm the only one allowed to hug him. Cora has been clinging to you since you made her the photo album, but she's been aggressively loving you even before that. Even though you forget to eat yourself when you are on a research binge, you never miss when one of us is too engrossed in work or university stuff or pack stuff and you usually drop a sandwich with a pointed glare."

Stiles stared at her for a long moment, face twisted. "…Oh."

He wrapped her arm up in a bandage, not looking away from the injury. Not looking at her, or the rest of the pack, who by now definitely looked like they were dealing with a frightened deer. Stiles hunched in on himself for a moment and then practically sprang up and bolted.

"I didn't mean to chase him away," Allison whispered worried. "I didn't even mean to tease him. He's just been… kind of the mom, or what I imagine having a mom is like, anyway…"

Derek rested a hand on her shoulder, a comforting weight, while her dad looked at her. It was hard to read his expression. Not judgment or disappointment, but too close to it for comfort. She loved Stiles and she loved how loved he made them all feel. It wasn't necessarily the soft, squishy kind of mom love she knew from sitcoms and such. He had a more demanding and very bossy attitude about it, was fiercely protective. More like a lioness with her cubs than the classic mom type.

"It's not your fault, princess," Peter offered with a sigh. "Me and Christopher have been noticing it for a while, but we didn't know how exactly to bring it up with him, so we… didn't. That is on us. We're the Alphas, we should have talked to him about it."

"But you didn't," Isaac glared at them. "And you aren't going to now either. I'll talk to him."

He was, perhaps, the only person none of the pack could argue with when it came to Stiles. Allison just hoped that he could do something. She didn't know what, but something. Something that'd reassure him that they all fiercely loved him too.

/break\

Isaac found Stiles on the roof of the house. He'd developed an incredibly concerning habit of sitting out there. Every time Isaac saw that, he had a moment of pure fear. Because Stiles always flailed and stumbled even under normal circumstances and if he slipped and fell off the roof and broke his neck, Isaac was never going to forgive him.

"You ran off," Isaac said when he sat down next to Stiles.

"I Pack Mom-ed," Stiles muttered bitterly.

His legs were drawn up against his chest and his arms were wound around them. Stiles was tall, but right now, he looked so small and breakable. Isaac didn't like that. Wrapping an arm around Stiles' shoulders, he pulled his best friend as close as possible.

"You always Pack Mom," Isaac argued. "You Pack Mom me."

"That's different. That's you. You and me," Stiles argued, his scent sour. "I didn't mean to, with them. What if it's weird, or annoying, or… offensive. They haven't had a Pack Mom in their pack so far and they were doing just fine, they don't need it, they don't need me to do that. I'm Emissary, that's enough. That should be enough. I don't want to make it weird. I don't want to… I don't…"

Stiles hiccupped a little, eyes closed tightly in a valiant effort not to cry. "I don't want to lose them."

Isaac turned toward Stiles and fully pulled the other boy against himself, until Stiles' face was buried in his chest and he was practically sitting on Isaac's lap.

"You are not going to lose them," Isaac frowned, scent-marking Stiles softly. "They aren't like our old pack. Even the bitten ones. But the Hales even less so. They know how valuable and amazing a Pack Mom is. Peter was practically salivating the first day you told them that you used to be Pack Mom in our old pack. He'd rather bite off his own arm than kick you out of the pack."

This time, the hiccupping sound was a laugh. "That is so dramatic."

"Have you met Peter Hale? The man is so dramatic," Isaac grinned. "And he cares deeply about you. They all do. I would not have joined this pack if I didn't trust them with you, Stiles. You're all I have. You're my family. I will never allow someone to hurt you again. If I thought these people would, then I'd have dragged you onto the next flight to, I don't know, Switzerland."

The laugh was more genuine this time and less watered down. "I love you, pup."

"I love you too," Isaac smiled, pleased that he'd managed to calm Stiles down. "And so do they."

"I know that," Stiles muttered frustrated. "In theory, I know that. But… so did Scotty, once. So…"

Isaac sighed, pulling Stiles even closer, if that was physically possible. He knew how hard this was. His father had loved him once too, before. But the death of his brother and mother had changed his dad. It was hard, to be disappointed, to fear, someone who once loved you. It made it hard to trust, because every person he let close now had the potential to hurt him.

"They're all in the living room right now, pacing," Isaac informed him in a gentle voice. "They're all worried that this chased you away. Because they don't want to lose you."

"Oh," Stiles whispered, voice breaking. "Do you think… Can they come up? Can we have a puppy pile? I think I need a puppy pile."

It took less than five seconds for the door to burst open and the rest of the pack to try and fight each other on who got to squeeze through the door first. Isaac and Stiles watched them from outside the window with bemused looks on their faces. In the end, Peter and Chris stepped in front of their pack, coming to stand in front of the window.

"Please get inside," Peter looked mildly distressed. "You are very accident prone and breakable, darling, why would you sit out there."

Rolling his eyes, Stiles accepted the Alpha's hand and went back in. "I like the view. And I used to sit on the rooftop with my mom all the time, to count the stars."

Peter's gaze softened, though he looked no less concerned. It was weird. Isaac didn't like how much attention Peter and Chris paid to Stiles. Erica accused him of not wanting to share, which might be true. For the first couple of weeks, Isaac had really struggled with the fact that all these new people now took away Stiles' focus and attention. But Peter and Chris were different, wanted something different from Stiles than the rest of the pack did. And Isaac wasn't sure yet if he approved.

He wanted Stiles to be happy, of course he did. But those two men were more than twice Stiles' age, they were married with children (children who were Stiles' age and older), one of them was Stiles' boss and both of them were Stiles' Alphas. There was so much tilted power-dynamic going on, Isaac was getting dizzy just thinking about it.

The scary part was that Isaac didn't even think that Chris or Peter would abuse any of the power they had. They had been fair and kind Alphas so far. And Isaac could see that they genuinely cared about Stiles, were really very love-sick if he had to be frank.

It was Stiles he was worried about. Stiles had already lost everything and near everyone he loved and he was so desperate to never lose someone again, Isaac didn't know how far he'd go to keep them. If he would agree to things he didn't want, just because he feared that Chris and Peter could kick him out of the pack if he didn't do what they wanted. Which, again, Isaac did not think they would – and he didn't think that Stiles truly believed that either, but as their conversation just proved, he was still unreasonably afraid of it.

"We would never kick you out for taking care of our pack, doll," Chris spoke gently, an arm around Stiles as he guided the boy over to the bed. "I mean, we would never kick you out of the pack, period. But especially not for taking care of us."

The two sat down on the bed, Stiles tucked under Chris' arm and leaning into the former hunter. Peter was quick to take Stiles' other side, lovingly cupping Stiles' cheek and how in the world did Stiles not see how utterly in love these two men were with him. It baffled Isaac.

"We are quite honored that you care for us so deeply," Peter's voice was sincere and soft. "And we would be grateful and lucky if you wanted to fill the role of Pack Mom in our pack, officially."

Stiles bit his lip, looking from Peter to Chris and back. So much smaller and more insecure than Isaac was comfortable seeing Stiles. He'd seen his best friend stare down hunters and feral Alphas with vicious glares. This wasn't him, this was all of Stiles' trauma and insecurities stripping away his strength and bravery, leaving him bare and vulnerable.

"I… can?" Stiles asked, his eyes wandering over the entire pack.

The betas were by now also crawling into the bed, joining their Alphas and Stiles. Crowding in, limbs thrown over each other, hugging and comforting one another. Isaac grinned as he found his spot between Derek and Allison, near Stiles' left leg.

"Yes," the betas chorused with emphasis.

It put both a grin and a blush onto Stiles' face before he finally fully relaxed. "I love you guys."

/break\

Stiles smiled thinly as he watched his pack. Erica was curled up in Boyd's lap but pushing her bare feet under Jackson's thighs, causing Jackson to growl at how cold they were and starting a banter and bitch fest between the two, while Boyd just kept his arms around his mate's waist and talked to Lydia as though their respective mates weren't causing a huge commotion between them.

Cora and Allison were bent over their books at the living room table, studying together with some help from Chris who looked only marginally like he knew what was going on but was trying. College was just not the same as helping them with middle school homework.

Isaac sat on the other couch, with Peter and Derek. While Peter had his laptop on his thighs and seemed deeply engrossed in his work, Derek was talking to Isaac. It had been… years… since Stiles last saw Isaac this animated with anyone who wasn't him. It had been years since he'd last felt like he had a home, a family. In that moment, looking at them doing such mundane things, Stiles realized that he desperately didn't want to lose them. He wanted more time with them.

"Hey, guys," Stiles pushed off the doorway and entered the living room. "Do you… Do you have a moment? There's something I need to talk to you about. I already talked to Ally about this, but..."

"Of course, darling. I'll just need another moment, closing argument," Peter muttered softly.

Allison reached over and closed Peter's laptop, startling the Alpha. "That has time, dad."

Furrowing his brows, Peter turned to exchange a look with his husband, before Stiles got the undivided attention of the whole pack. Stiles walked over to the wall opposite them so he could look at them all. The look on Allison's face was proud but achy.

"You guys know how Peter, Chris and I went to the Hayes pack last month, right?"

"Ye—eah," Cora huffed. "Chris and Peter were extra growly two days prior and after."

"They really didn't like sharing your attention," Erica nodded gravely.

Stiles snorted softly, the smile on his lips curving a little. "I was made an offer, by Emissary Cotton. She's the Spark of London and she's… She wants to retire. She's already training a new Emissary for her pack, but she has this idea, that she wants a successor as London Spark."

He paused for a moment, watching the faces of the pack to see some confusion. "That's not how Sparks work. A Spark is picked by the local Nemeton, after the last Spark dies, the seed of magic is planted in a baby to grow and nurture with that person. Which means a territory is left mostly unprotected until the next Spark reaches… teen age, at least. And Emissary Cotton doesn't like that and thinks that I, as a Spark who moved away from his territory, am… an opportunity. She researched and put together a ritual that could bind me to the local Nemeton."

"What would that mean for you?" Boyd asked, looking serious but sharp. "What's the downside?"

Everyone looked at him very intently and intensely. They understood that what he was telling them was serious. They could also read his body language and tone of voice enough to see that this wasn't just a power upgrade good news kind of situation. Stiles sighed.

"It's untested. It's the theory of someone powerful, but…" Stiles pressed his lips together thoughtfully. "But she's not all knowing. This could very well and easily kill me, kill her, it could even destroy the Nemeton for good and leave London fully unprotected from hereon out."

"Oka—ay," Jackson furrowed his brows. "So why are you bringing it up then? Because that sounds like something we should absolutely not do. At all."

"Yeah, I agree with Jackson," Isaac's face screwed up with worry. "I get that you would get more magic if you had a tie to the local Nemeton instead of long-distance and like sure the territory may be wonky when Emissary Cotton dies and the next Spark is a baby, but… that's not worth the risk?"

Stiles hummed and nodded a little. "When I told you that my magic's weakened from the distance to it, and that being near Peter's been… making it better… that was… playing things down."

"What," Chris' voice was tight with concern. "What does that mean?"

The hunter looked tense and was clutching his husband's hands. Ah. Yeah, okay. Stiles might have given the pack reason to worry if he was ready to admit that he was playing things down, because according to a very distressed Derek, Stiles had a habit of talking too casually about traumatic things he had gone through. So the pack knew that Stiles didn't easily admit something was bad.

"The Nemeton in Beacon Hills is dying, more rapidly ever since the Hale Pack and then I left," Stiles bit his lips. "The Nemeton is the source of my magic. If it dies, my magic dies."

"And you'd be… human, then?" Cora asked with a frown. "That's okay. Chris and Allison are human too. I mean, I'm not trying to downplay the loss, it would devastate me to lose my wolf, but I'm sure we can all help you overcome that, together."

"I am my magic, Cor," Stiles' voice cracked a little. "If my magic dies, I die."

The tension in the room could be cut with a knife. Peter was growling, his eyes flashing red. Helplessness didn't sit right with an Alpha wolf. Stiles turned his head to look down at his feet, instead of the sad and worried looks on his pack's faces. His heart felt heavy and empty.

"But you said that meeting Peter made your magic stronger, that he was like a stand-in for the bond to the Nemeton!" Isaac got up, sounding angry and desperate. "Why didn't you tell me? You lied!"

"I… omitted the truth," Stiles tilted his head. "Meeting Peter has made my magic stronger. Before I met him, I… I gave myself about five years, until the Nemeton's death would kill me. Being in Peter's pack, I may have a decade or so. Maybe a little more."

"A decade," Chris' voice broke. "Stiles…"

"So, yeah," Stiles cleared his throat and looked up at them with a wry smile. "That's why I'm even considering this ritual at all. Because it may be the only thing that can save my life and I… and I really don't want to die, I… I really… I don't want to die…"

He blinked rapidly, trying to blink away the tears, but he wasn't successful. A sob wrecked him and he felt his knees weaken when he admitted, for the very first time, just how much he didn't want to die. It wasn't like he had an active death wish before, but a part of him had… simply accepted it. He'd hated that he would leave Isaac behind, but he had to believe that Isaac would be fine. For the first time, he truly was afraid of dying, of losing the life he'd built.

"It's okay, sweetheart," Peter's voice was so soft as he wrapped his arms around Stiles. "It's going to be okay. We won't let you die. We'll find a way. We will."

Chris came to hold him from the other side and Stiles clung to them both. Within moments, the whole pack followed and there was so much hugging, everyone trying to touch Stiles in some way, trying to comfort him but also trying to comfort themselves.

"What can we do?" Allison asked, sounding relatively put together. "When we talked about it, you didn't… you didn't want to tell them. What has changed?"

"I…" Stiles rubbed his eyes and tried to calm his breathing. "At first, I didn't want to tell you guys because I thought it was… There was nothing that could be done to change it. I was going to die anyway, all telling you would do is that it'd make you sad and worry you and make the last couple years I have left… shit. Because of the guilt and the pity and watching you all watch me die. And I didn't want that, for either of us. Because I've been on the other side of that with my mom."

Chris gently guided him to the couch to sit down, on account of his still not fully cooperating knees. Somehow, he ended up half in Chris' lap again, reminding him of that day at the café. And just like back then, he refused to give up his comfortable, safe spot on the man's arms unless someone would physically drag him out of it. He was leaning sideways against Chris' chest and he could feel Peter wrap his arms around Stiles' waist from behind, pressing against Stiles' back. Nothing felt safer than being sandwiched between his Alphas like that, their gentle touch a soothing presence on his body. Chris was running his fingers through Stiles' hair, his other arm thrown over Stiles' lap, while Peter's fingers were dancing playfully over Stiles' stomach.

"And then I didn't want to tell you because I wasn't… I didn't know if it really was an option," Stiles sighed. "I mean, it gave me hope, but the potential outfall? I wasn't exaggerating when I said that it may kill me and Marge… and the local Nemeton. The risk was too high for me to agree to it, so I didn't really see a reason to tell you guys…"

"But you told Allison," Cora pointed out, making it sound a little like an accusation.

"I… did," Stiles bit his lips. "Because I did want to tell someone, because I did feel… hopeful. And I didn't want my hope to cloud my judgment. I needed a second opinion."

"Not that I was a very unbiased second opinion," Allison chimed in. "Not saving you is not an option, Stiles. So, let me ask again, what changed since we talked?"

"I know you guys noticed that I've been a bit… deep down the rabbit hole lately," Stiles ducked his head at the pointed looks and affirming grunts he got. "This is the rabbit hole. At first, I rechecked Marge's work – every single step of the ritual, every ingredient and its purpose, every source she had used to come up with each step. Once I was… satisfied with her work, I did research of my own, based off of hers. I found some ways, but they were… even more risky than hers."

Sighing deeply, he tilted his head back against Peter's shoulder, one hand reaching out to link fingers with Chris' hand on his lap. "So I started researching ways to make Marge's method safer. I hit a bunch of dead ends. But… I think… that I found something that heightens the success-rate significantly. I found something that would at least ensure that the Nemeton survives."

"Stiles," Chris' voice was a dark rumble directly next to Stiles' ear, making him shudder.

"Look," Stiles sighed again, this one more tired. "I'm gonna die either way. If I don't do it, or if this backfires. My life is a reasonable cost-calculation in this. It's Marge and the Nemeton I refuse to risk. I talked to Marge about it, a couple days ago. And she… she said that she will do the ritual for me, that it's her choice whether or not she wants to risk her life for me."

Blinking away tears, Stiles turned his head so he could hide his face in Chris' chest. "I thought she was just getting too arrogant with her age, that she was doing this to prove something, wanted to defy the way things work to keep her own pack and territory safe even after her death, wanted to show that she could do what nobody else has ever done before. But… But she's been doing this for me this entire time. Because she's a Spark too and she knows leaving my territory was a death sentence for me and she's grown fond of me. And now she's willing to risk her life to save me."

His shoulders were shaking and he was grateful that nobody commented on the tears he couldn't hold back at that. He was so tired of losing people. Why would she do that? Sure, she had told him that he was like the grandson she never had, but that didn't mean she should die for him.

"And that's her choice," Stiles choked on that last word. "But the Nemeton, I refuse to risk."

"And you found a way to make sure that it won't die?" Lydia asked tentatively.

"Maybe," Stiles bit his lips. "I found a ritual that may be able to… prevent the local Nemeton from harm whatever the outcome of Marge's ritual will be. But if this is going to have the desired effect is something we'll only know after we performed this first ritual."

"We," Derek noted, one eyebrow raised. "You're actually asking for our help."

"This…" Stiles' lips quirked into a pained half-smile. "This won't work without you."

"What do we need to do?" Erica asked, eager and antsy, clinging onto Boyd and Isaac.

Closing his eyes, Stiles braced himself. They may love him, they may want to save him, but what he was going to ask of them could be too much. Peter pressed his hands flat against Stiles' stomach, pulling Stiles closer against his chest, his goatee scratching against Stiles' neck.

"Out with it, little Spark," Peter growled. "There's nothing we won't do to try and save you."

"I told you that my tie to you is strengthening me and I told you we're both oath-breakers for leaving Beacon Hills," Stiles twisted around enough so he could actually look Peter in the face. "Sparks are bound to a land, but they're also bound to a pack. I need to fully and deliberately cut my connection to the Nemeton in Beacon Hills, which will leave us with a window of 48 hours to perform the other ritual before I'll die. And I need you to cut your ties to the Nemeton too, Peter. Beacon Hills has been Hale territory for centuries and I'd need you to officially… give up your family's legacy. We would have to return to Beacon Hills to perform this ritual."

He held Peter's gaze, waiting for the Alpha and the pack to process his words. "If it works the way I intend it to, there is no risk to you. Even if I die in the second ritual, you would just be… a London Pack then. But freeing me from any ties to another Nemeton means there won't be a conflict between ties, which is the possible risk to the local Nemeton."

Peter smiled at him, all fangs. "I suppose it's time for us to return to Beacon Hills then, darling."

Author's note: Looking at these 45k worth of heavy lore and plot feels kind of insane considering this was supposed to be less than a tenth of that and just... kinky smut. But yes, this chapter is where I FULLY gave up and let the story be hijacked, they absolutely were never supposed to return to Beacon Hills - but now they will.

So, next chapter, they are going to return to Beacon Hills and perform a ritual and Chris and Peter are gonna find the balls to properly court Stiles, in the face of Stiles' potential death. I know what'll await them in Beacon Hills, but I'm curious to hear what you guys' guesses are ;)