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Teen Wolf || Stetopher || Teen Wolf || A Spark Into a Flame || Teen Wolf || Stetopher || Teen Wolf

Title: A Spark Into a Flame – The Phoenix's Mates

TW Disclaimer: All rights reserved to Jeff Davis and MTV. This fanfiction on the other hand is entirely mine. No money is made with this, though reviews are more than welcomed.

Tags: m/m/m, polyamory, Phoenix Stiles, Spark Stiles, Erica Lives, Boyd Lives, Jackson Doesn't Leave, Pack Feels, PTSD, hurt/comfort, fluff, nesting, explicit intercourse, anal, oral, m/f

Main Pairing: Chris/Peter/Stiles

Side Pairings: Boyd/Erica, Scott/Allison, Jackson/Lydia

Teen Wolf Characters: Mieczysław 'Stiles' Stilinski, Peter Hale, Chris Argent, Derek Hale, Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd, Isaac Lahey, Jackson Whittemore, Lydia Martin, Scott McCall, Allison Argent, Danny Mahealani, Noah Stilinski

Summary: Gerard reveals Stiles' best kept secret in the basement, for Boyd, Erica and Chris to see. Now Stiles has to deal with the fact that there are people who know he's not just not human but something rare, valuable and hunted – a phoenix. On top of that, he also has to deal with a recently resurrected and now very clingy werewolf. And all the other shit going on in Beacon Hills.

A Spark Into a Flame

The Phoenix's Mates

Chapter 1: The Basement

Stiles' grandpa used to say that nothing good came for free. Either it came as compensation for something horrible one survived, or the price would still have to be paid.

Stiles had never scored during a lacrosse game before, he barely got put into a lacrosse game. So when he scored the winning goal, hearing the crowd cheer – hearing his father cheer the loudest among them – Stiles was just in an overall sense of euphoria. His grandpa's words only came to him after he got tasered, kidnapped and thrown down a flight of stairs. Nothing good came for free.

He took a shaky breath as he gathered himself off the floor, his hand slowly searching the wall until he found the light switch. When the light came on in the basement, his breath hitched.

There, right in front of him, were Boyd and Erica. Strung up on the ceiling, standing on their toes, their skin covered in a sheen of sweat and at multiple places in crusted blood, their clothes dirty and torn, Erica's make-up ruined by tears. They both made frantic noises and struggled in their bonds when they recognized him. Still a little dizzy from having been thrown down the stairs, Stiles made his way over to them as quickly as he could. He pressed a finger against his lips to quiet them, before their captors would come down to check on the noise.

He reached up to undo Erica's binding, just to be shocked by enough electricity to knock him back. It burned, it burned in the bad way. Electricity wasn't friendly, it didn't play nice. He'd never liked it. Hissing, he shook himself. Okay. He needed to kill the electricity first, then free his wolves.

Before Stiles had a chance to identify where to turn off the electricity did the basement door open again. Stiles turned around and instinctively put himself between the threat and his wolves. Mh. That was a potential problem, wasn't it? Scott had decided to join the Hale Pack and he'd dragged Stiles with him, he hadn't even talked about this with Stiles first. Just declared himself part of Derek's pack. And Stiles, in the broken train, on the floor, with Erica's head in his lap, trying to sooth her through the first seizure she'd had since turning into a werewolf… Stiles had just followed. If Scott was now finally part of the pack, so was Stiles. But it was more than just following Scott's lead, it very much was Erica's frightened face while Stiles tried to help.

Stiles had accidentally grown attached to a pack of werewolves. It had started with Derek, the two of them had saved each other's lives often enough now, and then Derek became an Alpha and Derek dragged Isaac, Boyd and Erica into this. And then Erica had the seizure and Stiles felt protective of her. That feeling only got stronger after joining the pack. At the rave, with the kanima, Stiles had kept Isaac and Erica out of harm's way while taking charge of the interrogation. Part of the problem was how… easy it was. It was so easy to work with them. Things were finally, for the first time, going smoothly, now that Scott and Stiles were pack, had support and backup. And it was so easy to grow attached to them. They were his wolves now. And that was a problem.

It was a problem, because now Stiles stood between two incapacitated werewolves and a murderously smiling hunter. Gerard took all the time in the world to walk down the stairs, looking at Stiles like he was prey. Swallowing hard, Stiles straightened up. Never showing weakness in front of a potential threat, his grandpa had taught him that.

"You know, I'm not a fan of your kinky sex dungeon. The interior design leaves much to be desired," Stiles quipped. "And those two look like they would like to safeword out of this scene."

Gerard's disgusted sneer made the pain of the punch nearly worth it. Still, Stiles doubled over in pain, clutching his stomach afterward and trying very hard not to puke.

"You still got jokes, mh?" Gerard asked. "Don't worry, that will change."

"Highly doubt it," Stiles muttered. "I'm the comic relief in all of this, I always got jokes."

He offered a toothy grin that got him punched in the face. Boyd and Erica were getting louder in the background and he really needed them to shut the hell up. As long as Gerard was busy being infuriated by Stiles, he wasn't going to hurt them more.

"Do you know why you're here, Mister Stilinski?" Gerard asked in a sharp voice.

"You were getting bored with Boyd and Erica and craved better conversation?" Stiles wondered. "I mean, you didn't give them much chance to converse, what with the duct tape, but-"

Another punch in the face. His head was spinning and he tasted blood. Licking his now split lip, Stiles tried not to succumb to the desire to just sit down on the ground and catch his breath.

"You're here because your friend seems a little dense," Gerard glared with disgust in his eyes. "I thought I made it very clear that he should stay away from my granddaughter. But it appears he isn't heeding my warning. You, Mister Stilinski, will be made an example."

Great. So Stiles wasn't even getting a beating for something he did. No, he got it because Scott so desperately needed to get his dick wet, he kept forgetting that her family were ruthless werewolf hunters out to kill them. Wonderful.

A fist collided with his stomach again and this time when he doubled over, Gerard shoved him. Stiles landed on the ground with a pained oomph. And then the bastard started kicking Stiles. In the ribs, in the stomach. Pain blossomed all over his body and Stiles felt the way it wanted to protect itself, defend itself. Fighting his own instincts was harder than taking the beating. It was alright. He could take this. Just take this stupid beating. It was just a human, kicking him, he was going to survive this, there was no reason to—

Gerard kicked him in the head, his face scrapping painfully against the concrete floor and that was it, that was too close, too dangerous, must protect. Even though he was trying to fight it, his body outvoted his will and in a burst of yellow, red and orange, his wings manifested and wrapped around his body in a protective cocoon. Fuck.

It got eerily quiet in the basement and Stiles used the time to gather himself somewhat. His head was spinning and he felt even more like throwing up than he had earlier. He just needed to gather his wits, regain some strength, and then he'd be able to get through this.

"It appears I have made a mistake dismissing you, Mister Stilinski," Gerard's voice was dripping with glee. "And here I thought you were human like your father, you never showed any signs. But you are your mother's son, aren't you?"

Stiles froze, his heart skipping a couple beats as fear overtook him. How did Gerard know about his mom? Slowly, he forced himself to stand up, lowering his wings in the process. The look on Gerard's face terrified him.

"My daughter was a fool," Gerard said, cutting and vicious. "She never saw the bigger picture, only her own petty desires. She liked to play with fire, but you can't play with fire in a territory where one of your kind lives. So she disposed of the obstacle in her plans."

Stiles was shaking, he tried to control it, but he couldn't. Kate had killed his mom. He knew it. Well, not that it was Kate's doing, but he'd always known that someone with knowledge about the supernatural must have intentionally killed her. Human sickness shouldn't be able to kill them. His dad just smothered him with hugs and kisses and told him that she'd only been a half-blood, she had enough human in her from her mother's side, it must have… No. It couldn't, he knew it couldn't.

Horror overcame him at the next realization. His mother had died so the Hales could die. Kate had killed his mom so she couldn't stop the Hale Fire. Because she would have. Claudia would have been able to easily stop it. Oh gods, was that why the Hale House hadn't been protected against fire? Because the Hales had relied on Claudia's protection? Stiles took a stumbling, dizzy step back.

"It was a waste," Gerard's sneer turned into a grin. "But it appears I can still get what I want."

No. No, no, no. A beating was one thing, but this? He took another step back, but it wasn't enough, he wasn't fast enough. Gerard grabbed him by the neck and dragged him to a large metal tub filled with water. So water boarding had already been on the menu. Great. His head went under water – ice cold water that felt like a million needles pricking his skin. Stiles kicked and flailed but he barely had energy left, the lacrosse game, the kidnapping, the beating and now the cold water.

He must have passed out from lack of air at some point, because when he came to it, he was crammed into the tub, with Gerard standing over him and emptying a large bag of ice cubes into it. Stiles was already surrounded by ice. Fuck.

"Now, just to make sure you don't try to fly away, little bird…"

Stiles could barely move, the ice-cold slowing him down too much, his heart barely beating in his chest. He was so cold. He was in so much pain. He could only turn his head and watch with horror as Gerard grabbed his wings and leveraged his own weight against them over the rim of the tub and broke them both. The sound of the bones shattering was deafening.

The scream that tore from Stiles' throat was bloodcurdling and had both Boyd and Erica flinch away, restrained as they were. Tears streamed down Stiles' face without his say so as his wings hung uselessly over the edge of the tub and everything got fuzzy with the overwhelming pain.

The basement door opened and someone said something that didn't penetrate Stiles' conscience because all he could hear was the blood rushing in his ears.

"It appears that I have an important meeting to attend," Gerard smirked wickedly at Stiles. "That'll give you enough time to weaken so I can work with you."

And with that, the man just left. Didn't even tie Stiles up. Didn't have to. The ice all around Stiles did that job for him. He couldn't move. His limbs felt too heavy and the cold water around him felt like it was cutting him with knives. Maybe, if Stiles was lucky, he'd drown, before Gerard got back.

"I'm sorry, guys," Stiles mumbled sluggishly, staring with half-lid eyes over at Boyd and Erica, both of them crying and struggling. "I'm afraid I can't get us out of this one."

This was how he was going to die, wasn't it? In a basement, after getting beaten up by a hunter. In an ice-bath that cut him off from his magic and slowed down his system in an agonizing way. With two of his wolves tied up and helplessly watching. Stiles stared at them with empty eyes. This was going to break his dad's heart. Would he ever even learn what happened to Stiles, or would Noah be left wondering forever? Would Gerard dump his body to be found, to be buried with his mother, to give his dad some closure, or would Gerard simply rid himself of all evidence?

The basement door opened again – so soon, back already, maybe too early, maybe Stiles hadn't been in the ice long enough and once Gerard pulled him out, he'd be able to recover fast enough to do something, maybe there was still some hope left. A terrified gasp made Stiles turn his head and look at… Chris Argent. The man stood there with wide eyes and a horrified expression.

"Stiles," Chris' voice cracked on the name.

"Came to finish the job your dad started?" Stiles asked, voice empty.

Damn, he didn't even have the energy to quip. His eyelids felt heavy. Chris' steps echoed in the room as he approached quickly. His hand was searing hot compared to the rest of Stiles' body when it brushed over Stiles' bloodied cheek, Chris sucking in a breath. That was when he noticed the wings, uselessly hanging over the tub. The noise of surprise would have been funny in other circumstances. As stood, Stiles could barely keep his eyes open to look at the man.

"You're… not human," Chris murmured stunned.

"Astute observation, great hunter," Stiles sighed, too tired for whatever this was. "Does that make me deserve this more than if I were human?"

Chris' jaw set and his eyes hardened. It was fascinating to watch, their blue-gray color seemed to turn to steel. The next moment, gentle but firm hands grabbed him under the arm-pits and pulled him out of the ice-water. He was carefully lowered onto the ground, his wings twitching behind him in protest. He gasped, taking a deep breath now that the ice was gone.

"No," Chris answered, finally. "No, it doesn't. I came down here to get the kids out. I didn't… This is wrong. We hunt those who hunt us. You, all of you, aren't… You're just trying to survive. Allison shot a defenseless teen begging for mercy, trying to run away. That's not… That was never the girl I wanted to raise. That isn't the huntress I wanted to see her become."

Stiles' eyes landed on Boyd and Erica. That explained all the crusted blood on them. Chris gave him one last glance before he went to turn off the electricity and take Boyd and Erica down from the rig. As soon as the duct-tape came off, they both ran over to Stiles.

"Holy shit, Batman," Erica gasped and pulled his head into her lap.

He blinked and marveled at how this very much mirrored the situation they'd found themselves in when Stiles had first joined this pack. Only that Stiles wasn't used to being this weak and defenseless. Boyd reached out to rest a hand on Stiles' upper arm and pitch-black veins sneaked up his arm as the worst of the pain was drained from Stiles. A soft gasp escaped him.

"You shouldn't…" Stiles took a shaky breath. "You're in pain yourself."

"Not as bad as you," Boyd murmured with furrowed brows.

"What… are you?" Chris asked, standing above them.

"Come on, Christopher," Stiles rolled his eyes. "You're a big hunter, surely you know what creature has red wings and is weakened by ice and water."

He saw in the way Chris averted his eyes that the hunter had known the answer before that. Had maybe hoped for a different answer. Somehow, the confirmation saddened Chris. Stiles didn't know why. Chris turned away from him and Stiles decided not to dwell on it.

"Can you carry him?" Chris asked, looking at Boyd.

"Yeah," Boyd nodded and then reached for Stiles, but hesitated.

His eyes landed on Stiles' wings and Stiles sighed. "Yeah, I'd prefer if others wouldn't see them."

Chris walked with quick strides over to a shelf and got a large picnic blanket. With Boyd and Erica's help, Stiles found his way on the blanket, his wings tucked against his back, before they wrapped the blanket around him. It hid his wings and also wrapped them tight enough to prevent them from being jostled around. Boyd carefully picked him up bridal style, holding him close.

"Okay," Chris nodded, seemingly pleased. "Follow me. I'm getting you home."

They made their way upstairs, Chris in the lead. He left the basement first, checking if everything was clear, before Boyd and Erica followed. Stiles closed his eyes and pressed his cheek – thankfully the one that wasn't scrapped up from the floor – against Boyd's chest. Wolves ran hotter than humans and especially after this ordeal, Stiles wanted to roll around in that nice heat. When they reached a car, Boyd, Erica and Stiles got in the back. Well, Boyd and Erica got in the back and squished Stiles between them. He couldn't complain. More warm wolves.

"What…" Erica's voice wavered a little. "What was he trying to do to you?"

"Vampires aren't real," Stiles said conversationally, earning confused looks and noises all around. "It's a warped version of the truth. You can become immortal by drinking blood. But it's gotta be straight from the heart of a phoenix, so you can steal their immortality."

"Phoenix," Boyd repeated, eyes wide in surprise. "That's… You're a…"

"Yu—up," Stiles mushed his cheek against Boyd's arm for extra warmth.

"Why didn't we know this?" Erica asked softly. "I mean, even before you joined the pack, this feels like something that could have been useful for you to use against us."

"Phoenixes are rare," Chris answered, his voice dark. "They're powerful, but incredibly rare and hunted. Not for the same reasons as we hunt werewolves, but… for the reason Stiles just gave."

There was something strangely mournful in Chris' voice and Stiles once again wondered, but didn't have the energy to deal with it. "Yeah. We… We're taught to hide what we are from outsiders and to only show our true nature to our flame."

"Flame," Boyd tilted his head curiously.

"Ya know, the way a group of crows is called a murder," Stiles weakly waved one hand. "Or a group of wolves is called a pack. Phoenixes have flames. It's… honestly, it's kind of the same as werewolf packs, we have bonds, we have a leader – a Spark is what a phoenix Alpha is called – and we… support each other. Protect each other. Be there for each other. Only after accepting someone into our flame would we share this secret."

Stiles pressed a hand against his chest, over his heart, rubbing it. There was an ache and it had nothing to do with the beating and torture he just took. It wasn't a bad ache, it was a warm presence. Stiles turned to look at Erica wondrously and then he turned to look at Boyd. Oh. They were his wolves not because he had joined Derek's pack, but because he had… he had decided to make Derek's pack his flame. He had accidentally formed a flame of his own. The warm ache in his chest were flame bonds. He'd felt the faint pack bonds before, but in this moment, seeking comfort and warmth from them both after what had just happened, these bonds flared up with heat and manifested much more solidly in him. They were his now.

"Huh," Erica blinked and rubbed at her sternum. "What is that. Is that like an after effect from the electrocution? It feels like my heart is hammering in my chest, all warm."

"No," Stiles shook his head weakly. "Those are… bonds. Between us."

Boyd hummed curiously and stared at him with an unusual intensity. Stiles opted out of that by closing his eyes. He absolutely did not have the energy for any of this right now, he needed to recover enough to gather the magic he needed to hide his wings.

"Drop Boyd and Erica off home first," Stiles murmured exhausted.

The two wolves didn't object. Which was worth something, because he had heard Isaac tell Scott about how Boyd and Erica had run away. The Argents must have caught them on their way out of town. Nothing changed, Derek was still a sub-par Alpha, the hunters were still here. They could still run away, to safety. Erica wrapped her arms around him, hugging him. More warmth. Chris obeyed his wishes and dropped Erica off first and then Boyd. Stiles hugged the blanket closer when both wolves were gone and he sat so he could lean against the window.

"This ends tonight," Stiles whispered softly. "He knows what I am and he wants me dead."

Either he kills me or I kill him first. He didn't have to say it. The way Chris' grip on the steering wheel tightened and the man's silence told him that Chris understood the unsaid. It was that silence though that surprised Stiles somewhat. If he had more energy, he'd try to dissect it. For now, he just closed his eyes and tried to relax, feeling concerningly safe with Chris.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: The Warehouse

Back home, Stiles had barely gathered enough of his magic to conceal his wings before Lydia came barging in and then, the next thing he knew, Stiles was driving Roscoe through a warehouse wall and got a front-row seat in the epic reunion between Lydia and Jackson. He got to be a real puppy thanks to True Love's Kiss or whatever that had been, granting Jackson full wolflihood.

And of course had he driven Lydia there. Of course. Because she was flame, to him. The realization in the basement that he saw Boyd and Erica as flame had really kickstarted a chain-reaction of Stiles evaluating every inter-personal relationship he had. And though he wasn't in love with Lydia and didn't want her in his life romantically, he absolutely did want her in his life.

Which had been a realization Stiles had come to a few weeks ago already. That he wasn't in love with Lydia. Might have never really been in love with Lydia, not the real Lydia. His 90s rom com poisoned brain had cooked up this story that the hot, desired-by-all quarterback (Lydia) would realize that the vapid, blonde cheer-captain (Jackson) wasn't the right one, that true love laid with the unpopular, brunette nerd (Stiles). Only that the past months had made him realize that life wasn't like in the movies, high school wasn't like in the movies, and Lydia wasn't like in his fantasy. He'd always made himself believe that Jackson kept her small, but in reality, Lydia had kept herself small and Lydia had chosen Jackson. Hell, even the relationship between Jackson and Lydia wasn't anything like it had been in his mind. They were a toxic mess, for sure, but it was such a mutual toxicity – Lydia gave as good as she got. The two of them? They deserved each other.

A sentiment that Stiles found himself believing even more as he watched Lydia and Jackson kiss in that warehouse, followed by Jackson's first proper werewolf roar in beta-shift. They were like Beauty and the Beast, if Belle turned the Beast from one type of beast into another. Heaving a sigh, Stiles leaned heavily against his Jeep, wondering where his own Belle was. Or was he Belle…?

His eyes wandered over the warehouse with a resigned looked on his face. Derek was hunched over with a betrayed look on his face. The Alpha didn't even look at anyone before he sulked off, closely followed by Isaac, though Isaac kept throwing glances at Scott. After some more kissing, Jackson and Lydia headed out too, though Stiles wasn't entirely sure where to, considering Stiles had driven Lydia here. Chris avoided looking at Stiles as he left the warehouse. Allison walked out too and Scott trailed after him like the love-sick puppy he was.

Scott had barely looked at Stiles and hadn't acknowledged the undeniable proof of what Gerard had done to Stiles in the basement. What Gerard had done to Stiles because of Scott. At least in the beginning. Teaching Scott a lesson was what had gotten Stiles abducted and ultimately got Stiles' secret exposed to potentially the most dangerous person to know.

Stiles couldn't even hold it against Derek that the Alpha walked away with his tail tucked between his legs. The way Scott had just betrayed Derek must have been quite the gut-punch. To be used like that, in a completely pointless ploy at that. All it did was poison Gerard and buy him months to live and plot his revenge, it wasn't even a fool-proof plan to kill the threat. Even Stiles felt somewhat betrayed by Scott, because Scott had made this idiot plan all on his own, hadn't brainstormed with Stiles, hadn't even consulted Stiles or just confided in Stiles. For so many years, it had been only Stiles and Scott, they had relied on each other. Suddenly, Scott didn't rely on Stiles anymore… and Stiles couldn't rely on Scott. Too many missed or ignored calls in favor of dates with Allison and now this – and 'this' was both, the foolish plan as well as the torture Scott didn't even notice.

It was ironic, wasn't it? That the night he realized he had a flame, he was left all alone. Boyd and Erica were back home, healing up. Derek and Isaac had left. Jackson and Lydia had left. Scott had left. Everybody left and Stiles was all alone, defenseless and in pain.

"Have you sulked enough? Can we leave this place now?"

Stiles' head snapped up and he stared in surprise at the other person left in the warehouse. Peter Hale. Supposed to be dead Peter Hale. The man just stood there, with a handsome smirk on his face.

"We? What," Stiles blinked confused. "You should be dead. Why aren't you dead?"

Ice-blue eyes stared at Stiles with amusement. "I still had things to do."

For a long moment, they stared at each other, like cowboys at high noon. Stiles was too exhausted to shoot first. He didn't even know if he wanted to. The wolf had actively helped in containing and fighting the kanima and he seemed less… feral. Tilting his head, Stiles stared at the only survivor of the Hale Fire. Something in his gaze must have changed enough to make Peter approach him.

"You look worse for wear, dear," Peter pointed out.

He reached out to cup Stiles' cheek, tracing the scraped cheek with surprising tenderness. Stiles' eyes fluttered shut and he couldn't help but lean into the warmth of the wolf on instinct alone. The water and ice had chilled him to his bones. It was a phoenix's greatest weakness, it slowed them down, physically, mentally and magically. Made them vulnerable. A phoenix was a quick and jumpy creature by nature, to be paralyzed like that was a horrid feeling.

"You're freezing cold," Peter whispered, sounding weirdly concerned.

Stiles opened his eyes and stared into the wolf's blue eyes. The only member of the old Hale Pack still alive, and he couldn't count Derek here because Derek had barely been a teen and there was no way he had been in the know, but Peter had been Talia Hale's Left Hand. Peter was also the person who had killed Kate Argent. Killed the woman who had killed Stiles' mom.

Stiles dropped his veil, the magic he used to conceal his wings was draining when his body was this damaged and he was this exhausted already. He gave a soft little sigh when his aching wings hit the ground. A startled gasp drew his attention to Peter. The wolf stood frozen before him, awe, wonder and surprise in his ice-blue eyes as he stared at Stiles like Stiles was something rare and beautiful.

"You…" Peter swallowed hard. "You're a phoenix."

Stiles blinked repeatedly at him. "You… didn't know? I… uh… Huh."

"What. You assumed I knew that?" Peter blinked right back at him.

"Well," Stiles shrugged, now feeling a little more self-conscious. "Your pack was my mom's flame. You knew about her. You must have known about her. So you must know about me."

Peter frowned at him. "Yes, I knew about Claudia. She was… a dear friend. But I didn't know about you. None of us did. Your mother had us believe you took after your father. It's… why I offered you the bite, I had hoped it would trigger your dormant shifter genes. It appears… unnecessary."

Stiles chuckled softly, feeling a bit foolish. "You could say that. Though I only recently connected to my magic, I always had my wings. I've always been a phoenix."

His mom must have chosen not to tell them, because technically, it wasn't hers to tell. It was his. She'd protected his secret, even in front of the people she shared her own secret with. Still, somehow he had assumed they knew. The way Peter had treated him all this time had always made him think the wolf knew, not that Peter assumed him to be human.

"They're broken," Peter whispered, concern creasing his brows as he stepped up to Stiles.

"Oh. Yeah. Gerard…" Stiles motioned at them. "Part of incapacitating me. That's why I unveiled them, I figured you could… help me with them. I need to stabilize them for now, because I have things to do and you're here and… I thought you knew, so..."

"Of course I'll help you, darling," Peter's voice was too sincere.

They walked around the Jeep to get Stiles' first aid kit. Stiles gingerly sat down and did his best to spread his wings, even though it hurt. There were splints in the back of the Jeep, though usually for when he twisted his foot. Which happened more often than was necessary, honesty. But then again, he was a bird shifter – he was meant to be airborne not stumbling around on the ground.

"Why are you trusting me?" Peter asked while splinting the wings. "Showing me your wings, especially in the condition they're in, letting me touch them."

There was a long pause in which Stiles considered this. "You never hurt me. Even when you had plenty of opportunity, even when it would have made more sense to hurt me. You never did. I helped kill you because you hurt those I consider mine. But me? You were at no point a threat to me, personally. And today's realization that you were part of my mom's flame… If she trusted you, I find it somewhat impossible not to trust you to a certain degree either. Also, I quite literally am out of options. Everybody else was either not here or left already."

Peter hummed his acceptance, like Stiles' answer was satisfying enough for now. Good, because Stiles honestly had nothing else to offer. His instincts told him that he could trust Peter, so he did. He'd always trusted his instincts, it was one of the first things his grandpa had taught him.

Peter finished wrapping them, the splints stabilizing them and Stiles heaved a relieved sigh. Times like these, he wished that he could actually make his wings magically disappear, but all he could do was turn them invisible and intangible. They were still there though, he could still move them and more importantly feel them. Every step jostled them and had put him through pain on the way here.

"What's next, darling?" Peter wanted to know, stepping around Stiles.

"Why are you this… invested?" Stiles asked confused. "Why are you helping me?"

"I told you before, I like you, Stiles," Peter aimed a disarming smile at him. "And now that you shared your secret with me… yes, call me invested. I guarded your mother's secret and I will guard yours. And you, if you'll let me. So, what are we going to do next?"

Stiles tilted his head, trying to figure the wolf out. There was a weird sincerity to Peter that Stiles didn't quite know what to do with. He heaved a sigh as he looked around. There was nobody else, Peter was the only one who had stuck around. Who had helped him. Stiles was still feeling like a mess about, honestly, everything. The pain, the torture, the near death experience, the flame. He didn't know if he could do it alone right now and he appreciated not having to, even if Peter Hale had not been his first choice. Stiles rolled his shoulders with a sigh.

"Can you find Gerard Argent for me?" Stiles asked softly. "Can you, like, smell him?"

"I can smell him all over you," Peter sneered, eyes flashing a brilliant blue. "So yes, I can track him for you, darling. What are we going to do when we find him?"

"We aren't doing anything. I will," Stiles huffed and then followed Peter out the warehouse.

He was surprised when Peter led him to a warehouse three over, with Chris Argent leaning against the door, his arms crossed over his chest. Peter flexed his hands, claws out. Ready to fight. Stiles tilted his head curiously and approached Chris, putting himself between the two men.

"I told you, Chris," Stiles' voice was sharp as steel. "This ends tonight. Don't get in my way."

"I'm not," Chis didn't look at Stiles. "I'm not here to protect him. I'm here to protect you."

Oh, for Ognyena Maria's sake, how had Stiles somehow acquired two hovering, over-protective, hot middle-aged men? This was unnecessarily bothersome. He frowned at Chris.

"I do not need protection," Stiles turned a little to look from Chris to Peter. "From either of you, for the record. I appreciate the sentiment, but… You two are absolutely staying out of this. I'm taking care of this on my own, you're waiting out here. And Peter… you may want to… take a couple steps back, because when I'm done with him, I will burn this place to the ground."

Peter's eyes widened in surprise and he took an instinctive step back. "Darling, you're not considering what I think you are, right?"

"No, I'm not. I already decided on it," Stiles rolled his shoulders again. "He broke my wings. I'm not staying grounded for months until they're healed. I'll burn this place to the ground and raise from the ashes. Sure, it sucks, but being grounded is worse."

"Worse than being burned alive," Peter choked on it.

His eyes were wide with horror and Stiles understood that, because Peter had been burned alive twice already. Once by Stiles. The other time by the woman who'd killed Stiles' mom. The woman who was Chris' sister. Urgh, this was a mess and Stiles didn't have a mind for it.

"Yeah, worse than being burned alive. Imagine if something cut you off from your wolf," Stiles' eyes hardened. "I can only barely use my magic as is, this is limiting my access even more. I can't shake the cold from when Gerard fucking water-boarded me in an ice bath, I can't fly and my wings hurt with every step. I'd rather burn and rise from the ashes."

It was the way phoenixes healed. Burn themselves entirely out, rise with a fully healed body. It hurt, sure, but what he was feeling right now was worse than burning for a short moment. Phoenix fire healed and purified. Stiles' eyes landed on Peter, knowing the reason the man was much more put together this time around was because Stiles had set him on fire.

"Wait outside," Stiles ordered and walked past them. "And don't kill each other."

/break\

Stiles was a phoenix, a fully-fledged phoenix. The revelation still buzzed in Peter's mind and he was struggling to grasp it. He'd hoped Stiles had his mother's potential, that was why he had offered the bite. It could trigger dormant supernatural genes, the way it had with Miss Martin. He'd laid eyes on Stiles one time, in the hospital, and gotten lost in his big doe-eyes with the long lashes, so achingly similar to Claudia's, and he knew he'd fight for the boy. To have the boy.

Stiles was so much like Claudia, which was what had drawn Peter in, but in the end, what truly made him want the boy were all the differences between them. Stiles wasn't Claudia, he wasn't Peter's best friend from so many years ago. He was a sarcastic little shit that could match Peter in an unparalleled manner. He was also beautiful and radiated a ruthlessness that Claudia never had. She'd always been good. The angel to Peter's devil. Stiles had the potential of them enabling each other.

Peter might have wanted his best friend's son in his pack, because he had lost everyone, his whole pack was gone, but here he was, that living reminder of one of his pack mates, but by now? After the parking garage, after the boy had set him on fire, after today? Peter needed Stiles to be his.

Peter wore a deceptively pleasant smile as he turned toward Chris. "I really think you should stay away from Stiles. I think your family has done enough damage to him. And he's mine."

Chris looked startled by the straightforward claim, though he quickly covered it up with a huffed out laugh and turned away from Peter. "I'm not interested in the brat."

He started to walk away from Peter, but his steps faltered when he heard Peter speak softly. "You really should know better than to try and lie to a werewolf, Christopher."

Competition in the form of an Argent, how much Peter hated that. But then Stiles had stepped between them, when Peter was ready to sink his claws into Chris, so the boy felt a certain sense of protectiveness over the hunter. So tearing him apart wouldn't do. Upsetting Stiles had not ended too well for Peter in the past, after all. Then again, one could argue that upsetting Stiles had worked out in Peter's favor. Phoenix fire had healing properties and considering the bout of insanity with which Peter had died, it was a surprise how put together he felt, mentally, since his resurrection.

/break\

"So my son really is a traitor," Gerard sneered where he sat hunched over in the warehouse.

Stiles smiled, all sharp edges and vicious intend, as he stalked up to the man. "It appears so."

He dropped the veil to show off his wings, deep flame-red on top, the second layer fading from red to orange and the lowest layer of feathers fading from orange to yellow. His wingspan was impressive, they had to be able to carry him, after all. He also dropped the veil on his eyes, showing the blazing fire in them. Sometimes, the light-brown could come off like burning amber, in the right light and if he channeled his magic a little by accident. Right now, they should be a swirling, living flame, torn between hot-red and molten gold. It put the fear of the gods into Gerard.

"You tried to kill me," Stiles spoke slowly and circled Gerard. "Your daughter killed my mother. Which, I suppose that makes it all the more poetic that I killed her."

"I thought the wolf did," Gerard snarled.

"Oh, my wolf sank his claws into her throat and tore it out. And then… he met an early end," Stiles motioned vaguely. "Your daughter was still gurgling weakly and what with the Alpha claws sinking in deep, I figured… nah, letting her die slowly had the risk of her turning. And who wants an Argent were running around, right? So I dragged her body behind the Hale House and burned her alive. It felt poetic to me, after all she had done to others using fire."

The look on Gerard's face was the closest to fear that Stiles had seen on the man yet. Wonderful. That was exactly where he wanted the bastard. Smiling wickedly, Stiles went down into his knees in front of Gerard. Reaching out, he grabbed the man by the throat, pinning him to the wall.

"I will not let you live knowing my secret," Stiles whispered lowly. "You're dying here. Now."

He let the flames burst from his skin, relishing in Gerard's screams as the fire touched the man's throat and spread out over his body. Stiles breathed deeply, inhaling the beautiful scent of fire. The flames warmed him, chased away cold from the ice-bath. The warmth became overwhelming as it consumed not just Gerard but also Stiles, burning every cell in his body to let it regenerate.

/break\

Chris couldn't tear his eyes away from the warehouse as it caught fire. Knowing that his father was burning inside, was dying. He had torn feelings about it. The man was still his father, but what he had become… Kidnapping and torturing teenagers, including Stiles who he had assumed to be human until they actually were in that basement. Gerard's way had become fully corrupt.

The Argents should hunt those who posed threats to humans. Not hunt down innocent teenagers. And the way Gerard had pushed Victoria into taking her own life when Derek had bitten her, but now the man had coerced a teenager into providing him with the bite? The hypocrisy.

Chris hadn't loved Victoria, it had always been a business arrangement, really. Her family was a well-respected hunter family, she had been deemed a good match for him. And it covered up Chris' homosexuality. Gerard had spent years trying to beat it out of him, so Chris had accepted the arranged marriage to appease his father, to be left in peace. As much as he had resented the arrangement, it had given him Allison and he'd never loved anyone more than her.

To see Gerard dig his claws into Allison and warp her into something unrecognizable like that had made Chris wretch when they'd gotten back home, steeling his resolve into getting Boyd and Erica out of the basement again. That had kickstarted a chain of events leading him here, now.

Watching a warehouse burn with his already dying father inside. Watching, to make sure the one setting his father on fire would make it out in one piece. Because that boy had enchanted him in the hospital already, vicious and not backing down, beautiful and brave. It unsettled Chris that Peter now knew about that, had heard the lie – it unsettled Chris that it had been a lie. He shouldn't be interested in the sixteen year old son of the sheriff who was also a powerful phoenix.

When Stiles walked out of the warehouse while the flames died down, it took Chris' breath away. Stiles was naked, covered in soot and ash that, combined with the smoke, obscured most of the boy. His eyes were ablaze with the power of a phoenix, glowing like wild fires trapped within his irises. His wings were stretched wide and raised high, their previously dulled color now bright like fire, sparks flying off their tips. Stiles radiated power and looked like the divine creature he was.

Chris peeled his jacket off and stepped over to Stiles to wrap the boy in the jacket and cover him up. Stiles' legs gave in and Chris pulled him close. In that moment, Chris knew it had been a lie, knew Peter was right. He wanted Stiles. His gaze landed on Peter, who had rushed to Stiles' side too.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3: The Penthouse

"I'm not letting you into my den, Argent," Peter snarled.

"And I'm not leaving you alone with the boy, Hale," Chris growled right back.

"Why?" Peter offered a wicked smirk. "Afraid I'll do anything you want to do to him too?"

Chris didn't take the bait. He stared at Peter with hard eyes, not backing down. The one thing they had agreed on was that they could not take Stiles home to his father. Neither of them wanted to explain to the sheriff why they had his unconscious, naked son with them. Not to mention neither knew how involved the man was. Peter knew that Noah had known about Claudia and must know about Stiles, but the lack of the sheriff's involvement in everything that had gone down in the past months made them think Stiles was hiding his own involvement from his father for some reason.

Chris' house was out of question for obvious reasons – Gerard's hunters were still loitering about and though Chris was going to send them away, he didn't want to bring Stiles there before it was safe. And even if it were safe, Chris didn't know how Stiles would feel about being back in the house where he had been tortured only two hours ago.

The two stared at each other unflinching, blue eyes locked on blue eyes, neither giving an inch. Stiles, still wrapped up in Chris' coat but carried by the wolf, shifted some and buried his soot-covered face in Peter's chest. Both stared at the boy, both with expressions much softer than either would be willing to show the other. When they looked up again, there was a silent understanding between them. Peter growled softly one last time before unlocking the apartment. He didn't want Stiles out in the open, vulnerable to attack, any longer. Even if it meant letting the Argent in.

"You will not leave the living room," Peter ground out. "If I see you anywhere near my private rooms, I will tear your throat out and I won't care that Stiles cares about your existence."

Since Peter had given, Chris was also giving. He didn't argue the wolf on this. He was well-aware what it meant that Peter let him in at all; it spoke to just how deeply the wolf cared for Stiles.

"What do we do with him?" Chris asked once Stiles was placed on the couch.

"Well, he needs a bath," Peter pointed out, running a finger through the soot on Stiles' cheek.

Chris gave a low warning growl; he was absolutely not allowing the wolf to bathe the boy. Peter raised his eyes at the hunter, not backing down from the challenge and meeting it with a growl of his own. Stiles groaned and the next moment, a pillow hit first Peter and then Chris. Both turned startled to the boy still holding the pillow and glaring annoyed at them.

"Are you two going to be this insufferable at all times from now on?" Stiles asked, sounding tired. "Because I don't think I can keep up with this fucking pissing contest. I can bathe myself."

"Pissing contest," Peter wrinkles his nose displeased.

Stiles raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "You two are like ten seconds from whipping out your dicks to measure who got the bigger one. Which is ridiculous. What is this, do I emit some kind of weird pheromones that attract emotionally constipated middle aged men? Get your shit together, you are not in high school anymore, you don't need to act this stupid. Now show me the bathroom."

Stiles gave a soft grunt as he pushed off the couch, while Peter made an offended noise. "I am not 'middle aged'. Men in their fifties are middle aged. I'm not even thirty!"

The snarky exasperation left Stiles and he gave Peter a near soft look. "...You were in a coma for six years, Peter. You're thirty-five years old."

Peter staggered at that, looking genuinely startled. Chris stepped up, keeping a wary eye on Peter while wrapping an arm around Stiles' waist to steady the boy instead of Peter. It hadn't occurred to the wolf yet. He'd been so wrapped up in his vengeance, in what had been taken from him, he hadn't fully realized that this, too, had been taken from him.

"You can have your damn crisis after Stiles is in a hot bath," Chris muttered annoyed. "Tell me where the bathroom is, Hale. The boy's still naked."

Peter motioned into the direction of the bathroom, but his mind was still stuck on the fact that he had lost six years, had lost six birthdays that should have been spent with his family, eating Talia's horrid attempt at a cake, receiving drawings from Cora, Sloan and Jason that were so hard to make out but he would still be excited about, going out for drinks with his brother Aaron. Peter sat down heavily when the chaotic, vague concept of loss was shaped into a specific event he had lost.

He reached out for the wolfsbane laced whiskey on the table in the corner. By the time he'd emptied the first glass, Chris returned to the living room. After a moment of staring contemplatively at Peter, he approached, took a glass of his own and also filled it to down it.

"I'm sorry," Chris spoke without looking at Peter. "What my sister did to your family was… it wasn't right. It wasn't what we were supposed to stand for."

Peter remained quiet for a long moment and refilled his glass, only speaking when it was empty again. "You left Stiles alone. I don't want him to drown in the tub."

"He opted for the shower. Said he spent enough time with his head under water today. And he threatened to set me on fire if I didn't get out," Chris huffed out a dry laugh. "The brat's vicious."

"One of his best qualities," Peter drawled, a small smile on his lips.

Chris gave a fond grunt of agreement and for a bizarre moment, the two stared at each other, in the knowledge that they shared this fondness for Stiles and were drawn to the same aspects of the boy. Both sighed and sat down on the couch in silence, because the next thing that set in was the realization that Stiles had picked up on it. After all, when calling them middle-aged, Stiles had spoken about attracting them. They'd barely set with the fact that the respective other knew of their attraction to Stiles, neither of them was ready for the boy to be aware of it.

"Clothes," Stiles called out loudly. "I will not be walking around naked, you creeps."

"He'd going to be insufferable, isn't he?" Chris muttered.

"He'll make this as hard on us as humanly possible," Peter agreed.

/break\

Stiles took a very quick, searing hot shower. He would have loved to relish in the hot water longer, but the water just made him think of being dunked into ice-cold water until he couldn't breath, so he wanted to get out of there again as quickly as possible. By the time he stepped out of the shower, Peter had put out sweat-pants and a soft sweater for Stiles. When Stiles came back to the living room, Peter and Chris were just sitting there, drinking whiskey.

Peter, he understood, to some degree. Peter liked power, there were few creatures more powerful than a phoenix. Even if the wolf hadn't known Stiles was a phoenix, he had admitted to offering him the bite to draw out his supposedly dormant shifter-genes. He'd been interested in Stiles before, never hurt Stiles and had helped him today, now that he knew Stiles was a phoenix.

Chris was a mystery though. The man had been married until months ago. The hunter and married father of a daughter who was literally Stiles' age just didn't really scream being into Stiles, not even on a power-craving level. Probably guilt for what Gerard had done and had nearly done to Stiles.

"Your sister killed my mother," Stiles spoke softly and turned toward Chris.

Chris tensed at that, his grip tightening on the glass. "So you take after your mother…?"

"Ye—ep," Stiles nodded slowly. "And the phoenix in the territory was a problem for the damn pyromaniac. Though I guess we can all be grateful that her obsession with setting things on fire overrode everything for her. We'd be really fucked if she had killed my mom for her heart-blood."

Chris sucked in a breath and Stiles started to fear for the glass in his hand. The look on Peter's face was strangely passive, like he had gone to a different place. Probably had. One where Kate Argent was somehow superpowered with phoenix blood. Absolutely terrifying thought.

"Kate killed Claudia," Peter whispered lowly. "Not even for her blood, but… to get her out of the way to kill my family. She died because she got involved with our pack."

"No," Stiles shook his head and frowned at the wolf. "She died protecting our territory. It's what a Spark does. We protect our territory and we protect our flame. I just don't know… how."

"Poisoned," Chris muttered, not looking at Stiles. "There's ways to poison a phoenix. Slow and gradual enough that your kind won't notice until it's too late. It attacks the magic within, by the time you notice, you won't be able to regenerate anymore because it rots the magic away."

Stiles nodded slowly. He'd suspected something like that. His mom's mind had been gone by the time she died, she couldn't access her magic anymore. Stiles wrapped his arms around himself.

"You two, and Boyd and Erica, are now the only people aside from my dad who know what I am," Stiles raised his eyes. "I don't have to tell either of you how important it is that you keep this secret. How rare, how hunted, my kind is. Clearly, you have some protector-complex. I don't need you to play knight in shining armor, the only way I need you to protect me is by protecting my secret."

"I protected Claudia's secret and I will protect yours, darling," Peter promised.

"I didn't get you out of my father's basement to sell your secret to someone else," Chris frowned. "My mother… My mother raised me on stories about firebirds. L'Oiseau de feu. The way she told them to me, Prince Ivan was a hunter, a protector of humans, and the firebird aided him, blessed him. They – you – are seen as a good omen, to have a firebird's blessing means to be on the right track. She would have never stood for what my sister and my father did, wanted to do."

Stiles hummed at that, his wings twitching behind him. He turned a little and reached into one wing to twist a feather loose. The two men in front of him held their breath as they watched him and stared in wonder and awe when Stiles handed Chris a glowing red and orange feather, though Stiles could also see the envy naked and cold in Peter's eyes.

"My grandfather taught me to never let a debt be unpaid. Our kind works through favors," Stiles tilted his head. "You saved my life tonight. And you let me kill your father. I owe you for that."

Chris was gentle and careful as he cradled the feather close. "Thank you."

"I'm a Raróg. My family, both sides of my family actually, comes from Poland," Stiles added softly.

Phoenix was a very broadly used term, encompassing all firebirds really, but there were many different breeds, much like with weres. A wolf wasn't a coyote and… sometimes, there was a killer lizard. His kind, in particular, was known to bring good fortune. A Raróg's favor could bring a person happiness in life. Considering his dead pyromaniac sister, his dead wife and his dead genocidal father, Chris really could use some happiness. And Stiles didn't want the debt left unpaid.

"Stop glaring, Jealouswolf," Stiles rolled his eyes at Peter. "I literally gave you your sanity back. You are welcome. Besides, I don't owe you my life. Though you were helpful tonight."

Peter grumbled softly, still staring at the feather with envy. Stiles stretched, his eyes landing on Chris again. Why was Chris here, actually. In Peter's apartment. Stiles frowned confused.

"Why are you here? I mean, inside Peter's apartment," Stiles now turned back to Peter. "I know wolves are territorial. Why would you let a hunter into your den."

"Because there was something else he was being more territorial over than his den," Chris muttered.

Blinking repeatedly, Stiles stared between Chris and Peter. Him? Peter had let the hunter in because of Stiles? That wasn't a power-play. Wolves didn't let strangers into their den. Only pack, or for pack. Stiles stared intensely at Peter, with a different perspective. Peter had offered him the bite to draw out his nature, but also to make him part of Peter's pack, when Peter had been an Alpha. He had never hurt Stiles, because he wanted Stiles in his pack. And now he had helped Stiles, brought him to his den, even allowed an Argent in. Because he considered Stiles pack.

"Okay," Stiles whispered softly, swallowing. "Chris, maybe you should go home. Your daughter spent her evening trying to kill my flame. I would really prefer her supervised. Also in counseling. Maybe consider that, because she is going off the rails. And there is a limit to what I'll allow."

Chris gave a low growl, clearly not liking the threat to his daughter, but also being wise enough not to vocally protest. After all, Allison had seriously harmed Boyd, Erica and Isaac today. It took another moment for Chris to actually get up, his gaze lingering on Stiles.

"I'm fine," Stiles frowned at the man. "And we're going to have to talk about… whatever this is too. But I guess you would rather not have Peter here for that. So. Go home, take care of your daughter. I'm safe here, for now. Peter won't hurt me."

"I'm not worried about him hurting you," Chris muttered skeptically.

Stiles made a spectacular show of rolling his eyes. "I promise I'll protect my virtue from Peter too. Go, Chris. Thank you, for tonight. I need to talk to Peter alone now."

Reluctantly, Chris nodded and left. Stiles turned his full attention onto the wolf, as soon as the door closed behind Chris. He could see the moment Peter relaxed, knowing the hunter had left.

"What do you want from me, Peter?" Stiles asked. "Power isn't it."

"Well, I won't deny that it's an additional appeal, darling," Peter smiled, showing sharp, white teeth. "But no, you are fascinating enough all on your own."

"Why," Stiles frowned. "I don't get it."

"Your mother was… one of my closest friends," Peter admitted, his voice more genuine and softer. "You did pique my interest because you reminded me of her. You have her eyes. I had lost everyone and you were like a walking reminder of one of the people I lost."

Stiles couldn't stop the physical flinch from this. He remembered that, from his dad. When he was really drunk and would stare at Stiles, through Stiles. Seeing the ghost of Claudia in his eyes. Some days, Stiles hadn't even been able to look into a mirror because all he saw was his mom.

"But what kept my interest is you," Peter continued. "Your fire burns differently than your mother's. She could be fierce too, but you are vicious. Ruthless in a way Claudia never was. Vengeance looks good on you, darling. You're clever in a deductive and strategic way that appeal to me. And by the moon, you are beautiful. I want you to be mine."

Peter looked at him with those intense, ice-blue eyes of his and Stiles' breath hitched a little. Stiles' cheeks flushed and he knew his wings were flaring up with his magic, flickering like flames. That was so much more than just wanting power. He thought Peter wanted his power, everything else was just a compromise. This didn't sound like a compromise, it sounded like genuine want.

"I can't deal with this right now," Stiles whispered and shook his head. "I've been tortured, nearly killed, actually died, I killed a man, got let down by my best friend, realized I formed a flame without meaning to… I… I really don't have the space for any of this."

Peter, the bastard, pursed his lips in amusement. "I didn't expect you to declare your undying love to me and fall into bed with me, darling. But you asked, so I answered."

Stiles nodded and rubbed his face. "I'm tired. I need to sleep. I forgot regeneration leaves you with an empty battery that needs to be charged first. I don't want to go home. Dad saw me, after Chris dropped me off at home. He saw the injuries. I avoided his questions. I won't be able to if he sees the injuries are just gone. And I really… I really can't have that conversation right now."

"You are more than welcome to stay here," Peter smiled at him, looking pleased.

With his hands covering his face, Stiles peeked through his fingers at the wolf. Stiles knew it meant something that he trusted Peter to keep him safe. He trusted Peter now. Had shown him his wings, allowed Peter to touch them – and Peter knew what that meant for a phoenix. Even if out of necessity, the fact that he'd allowed it was a huge sign of trust. Trust that Stiles couldn't fully put onto Peter having been part of his mom's flame. The wolf was merciless and efficient, Stiles couldn't deny a certain admiration for what he'd done to Kate, how he had gone after those who'd taken his pack. If Peter hadn't gone after Scott and Lydia, Stiles would have just let him continue.

"If you ever hurt a member of my flame again, I'll set you on fire and make sure there is nothing left of you to resurrect," Stiles spoke slow and firm, holding Peter's eyes. "You are being very helpful, but I can't tell if that's genuine change in you, or an angle you're playing. And I need you to understand that if it's an angle and if you go after any of them again, you'll regret it."

"Your flame happens to be my pack now," Peter pointed out. "If I understand that right. You claimed the betas, Derek's betas, which means that Derek ignited your Spark, didn't he?"

Stiles tilted his head and looked to the ground. "I used my magic for the first time after I joined the Hale Pack. And I used it to protect the pack. So yes, he did. He's the Alpha my Spark bonded with."

"I already lost a pack," Peter's voice dropped. "And I… didn't exactly succeed in building my own pack. This is… my third and possibly last chance. Things between me and Derek are already rocky enough as is, I have no plans of antagonizing him by harming any of his betas. Believe me when I say that it's just not in my own personal best interest, so I won't do it."

Humming, Stiles tilted his head. "I do believe that."

Peter was part of the Hale Pack. Peter had helped him today. Peter was letting him stay in his den. Stiles bit his lower lip hard at the inevitable warm feeling in his chest. The way Peter's eyes widened was comical and the awe on his face was… flustering and flattering.

"You won't regret this," Peter whispered, sincere and warm.

His hand was resting against his own chest, like he was trying to physically grasp the bond. Stiles' cheeks flushed in embarrassment. His inner phoenix was still raw and hypervigilant after the events of the day. The wolf who was part of the pack that he had claimed, and who had spent the evening helping him and protecting him, in whose den he was right now? His.

"I need to sleep," Stiles sighed exhausted.

"Let me show you a guest-room," Peter offered, though he didn't hold back the cheeky flirtatious smile. "Since I doubt you'll let me show you the master bedroom just yet."

Stiles heaved another sigh and then shook his head. "I'm fine here. Do you have like a big fruit bowl and a round pillow that fits in the bowl?"

For a long moment, Peter stared at him, before he left with near eagerness. He returned with a solid, large crystal bowl and then snatched a pillow off the armchair in the corner. It was a fit. Stiles raised one corner of his mouth in amusement at the wolf.

"Don't give me that look," Peter huffed. "I only rarely got to see Claudia's full-shift."

"That is nearly adorable," Stiles snorted. "My grandfather said that it's easier to recharge magic in full-shift. I'd like to speed-run that."

He opted out of mentioning that it wasn't wholly appropriate to show their full-shift to someone outside of immediate family or their mates. But Stiles was far too tired right now to care and his mom had never been as hard a traditionalist as grandpa.

/break\

Peter remained seated in the living room long after Stiles had fallen asleep. He just couldn't tear his eyes off the pretty bird in his fruit bowl. Stiles' wings in beta-shift were already breathtaking – red and orange and yellow as the main colors, turning from the dark red to the lighter yellow at the tips, but they were very distinctively falcon wings, since Rarógs were a falcon breed of phoenixes. The unique stripes markings on the tip of the feathers was golden. Stiles was breathtaking. He was also, quite frankly, adorable. Having a fire-colored falcon nestled into a fruit bowl like it was a nest and sleeping peacefully was the cutest thing Peter had ever seen.

He tentatively reached out to traced a finger over the fire falcon's head. Stiles turned a little in his sleep, but didn't wake. The bond between them burned brightly in Peter's chest. He was flame. He may still have to fight for his place in the Hale Pack, but he had a place in Stiles' flame. Looking at his pretty bird, feeling safe enough in Peter's den to sleep in full-shift even, Peter knew he had to have Stiles. He wouldn't let the hunter take Stiles from him. He'd even rather share than lose.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4: The Graveyard

Noah shuffled anxiously in front of the marble stone. He bent down to pick leafs and dirt off the grave before placing the flowers in the vase. Green gladiolus. They were Claudia's favorite. Among all the flowers she cherished and admired, gladiolus had always been Claudia's favorites because they came in such a broad variety of colors, but among all the colors, she had always loved the ones that were near green. Noah still thought they looked more yellow than green, but oh well. He would not argue with his florist wife. He fidgeted with one of the blossoms while he waited for Stiles.

Stiles had texted him to meet up at Claudia's grave. They usually only went on the big days together. Claudia's birthday, her name day, her death anniversary. Otherwise, they usually visited her separately. Something told Noah that this was going to be a heavy conversation. He knew his son had been lying to him, a lot. Those lies culminated in last night, when his son had been snatched off the lacrosse field and turned up beaten and bloodied. It had been such an obvious lie, that the other team had taken him and beaten him up and Noah was so… tired. He was tired of all the lies and the distance between them, so he had angrily left for work, because he didn't want to stay at home and say something he might regret. When he came back, his son wasn't home. He'd gotten a text that Stiles was staying at a 'friend's' and that he was 'safe'. What friend. If it were Scott, he could have just said Scott. More lies, then. And Noah felt like he was drowning in them.

"Hey, dad," Stiles' voice wavered as he approached Noah.

"Hey, kiddo," Noah turned around with a sad half-smile.

The half-smile died on his lips when he laid eyes on his son. The bruises, scraps and split lip were gone. He knew what that meant. His breath shuddered as he got up and pulled Stiles into a tight hug. For a moment, Stiles was stiff in his arms, before he gave and clung onto his dad.

"What did you do, Mietek?" Noah whispered heartbroken.

The only way for a phoenix to heal was by dying and rising from the ashes. Which meant his son had died. He closed his eyes tightly, feeling the tears sting in his eyes. Stiles started shaking in his arms, sobbing softly. Noah rubbed his son's back, holding him tight.

"No more lies, dad," Stiles pleaded. "We need to talk. No more lies. I can't do this anymore."

Noah took a shaky breath at that, nodding slowly. "No more lies, Mietek."

For a while longer, he held Stiles, until they were both calmed down. Stiles gently pushed against him a little, putting some distance between them. Stiles ducked his head, not looking at Noah.

"Did you know?" Stiles asked softly. "That mom was murdered?"

Noah tensed in surprise. When he'd agreed no more lies, he had been thinking about Stiles' lies. Not his own lies. He averted his eyes from his son too, gaze landing on Claudia's grave, guilt heavy.

"Yes," Noah admitted. "How… How do you…?"

"It wasn't the opposing team that took me last night. It was Gerard Argent. He beat me up. He also broke my wings. That's why I healed myself. He… he also gloated about the fact that his daughter killed mom," Stiles whispered in a broken voice.

"The principal?" Noah blinked surprised. "Wait. He broke your wings? He knows what you are? I need to… We'll go, we'll find him, I'll take care of it, I'll-"

"I already took care of it, dad," Stiles pressed a calming hand against Noah's chest. "He's gone."

Noah's heart clenched. That meant Stiles had killed someone. Stiles had been kidnapped, tortured, died and killed someone. Tears burned in his eyes and he pulled Stiles into a tight hug.

"Tell me everything," Noah requested, begged, ordered.

He guided Stiles over to the bench opposite Claudia's grave so they could sit together. Both turned to look at the gravestone instead of each other. That somehow made it easier. Stiles breathed deep and slow for a couple moments, collecting himself.

"You knew that she had been killed and you were afraid that others knowing what I was could get me killed too, right?" Stiles asked softly. "When the… When the Hales burned…"

Okay, they were really starting with Noah here, weren't they? He heaved a sigh and nodded.

"When the Hales burned not long after your mother died, I… I was afraid for you," Noah admitted. "You always only saw the good in the supernatural. The beauty of flight, the magic. I… I never wanted you to see the ugly, or to be hurt because of it."

"You never had a right to tell me not to get involved with wolves," Stiles whispered, voice shaky. "I get that you were worried, but I'm a phoenix. I am supernatural. I can't… I can't not be involved."

Noah closed his eyes and heaved a sigh. "You got involved with wolves."

"I got involved with wolves," Stiles confirmed. "I… I accidentally made them my flame."

That was exactly what Noah had been afraid of. Stiles would grow attached to wolves, the way Claudia had, and it would get him killed, the way it had killed Claudia. His hands were shaking.

"Who," Noah asked, swallowing hard.

"A couple months ago, Scott got bitten by a feral Alpha," Stiles whispered. "I… I didn't know how to tell you, because you said not to get involved with wolves. And I knew you would hate that I was trying to track the feral Alpha and putting myself in danger."

"The mountain lion was a wolf," Noah rubbed his face. "Of course it was. Is Derek Hale the Alpha? He returned just around that time. Is that why you kept accusing him of murder?"

"Uhm," Stiles made a vague gesture. "Now he is the Alpha. He wasn't the feral Alpha. That was his uncle, Peter, who'd woken up from his coma. We fought him, together, and killed him. That's how Derek became Alpha. Scott isn't the only beta around. Isaac Lahey, Vernon Boyd, Erica Reyes and Jackson Whittemore are beta wolves now too. Peter is too. He's no longer dead, or insane."

"Most of that made sense. Aside from the no longer dead and insane part."

"Yeah, so, turns out that Lydia is a banshee. Peter bit her, activating her powers. He used her to resurrect himself," Stiles explained. "He's no longer insane though. Since I burned him with my fire. It purified him and now that he's resurrected, he's… more put together."

"Derek Hale, Peter Hale, Scott, the Lahey kid, the Whittemore kid, Vernon's son and Susie's daughter," Noah listed slowly. "Is that why the Whittemore kid got that restraining order?"

"Yeah," Stiles winced and rubbed his face. "The bite didn't really take, there were complications. All these attacks lately, that was him. He… At the station. Matt, he was controlling Jackson and using him like a… like a weapon. Jackson's better now, a full werewolf and all, but… Yeah."

"Okay," Noah nodded, rubbing his face. "That… That's a lot. Tell me about yesterday."

"The Argents are a family of werewolf hunters. Kate set the fire. Kate killed my mom. Peter killed Kate. Well. Peter tore her throat out, then Peter got killed and Kate was still kinda alive, so I killed her," Stiles blinked, staring ahead at the gravestone. "Didn't even know she killed mom when I… I just knew that she was a too great threat to leave alive. I've been protecting this pack since before it came together as a proper pack. And I made them… I made them my flame. I didn't mean to."

"I'm so sorry, kiddo," Noah turned toward his son and wrapped his arms around him. "You… You shouldn't have gone through all that alone. You shouldn't have to deal with all that alone. Tell me what I can do. Tell me how I can help."

"I'm sorry I lied," Stiles gasped softly, burying his face in his dad's neck. "I didn't mean to, I just didn't know how to tell you and things got more complicated and dangerous and I… I…"

Noah shushed him, gently running his fingers through Stiles' hair. "It's okay. It'll be okay. But… But is that all? Where did you go yesterday, what… what friend were you staying with?"

Stiles actually winced at that. "Uhm. So I stayed at Peter's."

"The former coma patient and formerly insane Alpha?" Noah frowned concerned. "Why?"

"So, uhm, after Gerard dumped all that on me and broke my wings, I kinda… I realized that the Hale Pack used to be mom's flame. I figured Peter must know what I was, so I showed him my wings, because… because I needed help and there was nobody else. He helped me. And after I healed myself, I kinda… passed out. He took me to his place and let me rest there."

"Peter Hale, mh," Noah furrowed his brows. "He used to be close friends with your mom. He was a pain in the ass, but he was a fiercely loyal friend to your mother."

"Are you… mad?" Stiles asked in a small voice. "About the lying and the trouble I got into?"

"I'm not… thrilled by it," Noah sighed. "But… But I can see that my own lies have made you feel like you had to lie to me… I… I'm sorry I made you feel like you couldn't talk to me. Tell me what I can do to help fix this. Tell me what we do next."

Stiles sagged in relief against him, nodding slowly. "Okay. So… my flame is kind of a mess right now. And I need to get them together. They need to be… This needs to be a functional pack."

"What's the first step toward that?" Noah asked.

"I mean, our Alpha is living in an abandoned train depot with an… orphaned minor," Stiles winced. "Yeah, Isaac's been staying with Derek and it's… not a home."

Noah sighed and rubbed his face. "We got the guest room. The other one would have to sleep on the couch. This isn't a permanent solution, but we can help until Derek's back on his feet."

"What," Stiles stared at him with big, surprised eyes. "Just like that?"

"You died last night and you didn't feel like you could talk to me," Noah looked at Stiles with devastated heartbreak in his eyes. "You're my son and I love you. I lost your mom, I can't lose you. I know how important a flame is to a phoenix, I just… I hoped you wouldn't turn into a Spark, I thought we were fine, just you and me. But a phoenix's flame is their family. I'm not… I'm not going to make you choose between me and your flame, kiddo. I'm here for you."

Stiles started sobbing and threw himself against his dad. "Thank you, dad."

/break\

Derek frowned as he looked up when the doors to the train depot opened. His frown deepened when he saw Stiles walk in – followed by the sheriff. Derek tensed at that. Everything was falling apart. Boyd and Erica had run away, Peter had resurrected himself, Scott had betrayed him and left the pack, Jackson was a werewolf now but what did that mean for Derek, for his pack?

"Stiles," Derek growled, looking past the boy and at the sheriff.

"This is no way to live, son," Noah declared with a frown of his own.

He looked around and clasped a hand onto Derek's shoulder, squeezing. Isaac was watching them from the shadows, unsure. Derek felt unsure too. His inner wolf wanted to growl in warning, hating that someone came into his den and criticized it. But the human part of him knew the man was right, was ashamed that he was so broken and lost that this was the best he could do.

"I didn't leave your pack," Stiles declared, holding eye-contact with Derek, who tensed surprised and turned toward the sheriff. "Dad knows. Everything. Actually more than you do. And I think… I think it's time you know everything too, because you're the Alpha wolf. I'm a phoenix."

"What," Isaac blinked repeatedly. "Is this, like, a prank?"

Stiles swallowed hard and shook his head. The next moment, the veil dropped and two large, mighty fire-colored falcon wings appeared behind Stiles. Derek took an instinctive step back. Stiles was a phoenix. He'd heard about them, from his mother. That there was a family of phoenixes in Beacon Hills, that being chosen by a phoenix was a great honor and privilege to every wolf. Derek furrowed his brows in confusion, tilting his head as he watched the wings twitch.

"Are you… Why…" Derek trailed off confused. "Why would you tell me?"

Because phoenixes were incredibly rare and valuable. Hunted. They didn't share their nature with anyone but with their… what were they called? His mother had told him what a group of phoenixes was called. Not a flock. No, not a group of phoenixes either. Phoenixes were solitary creatures who chose other supernatural beings to be theirs. Theirs to protect, theirs to comfort them.

"Because I am a Spark. And you are my flame," Stiles kept his eyes on Derek.

"Is that supposed to make sense?" Isaac asked confused.

"A Spark is the phoenix-equivalent of an Alpha," the sheriff replied, patting Isaac's back. "And a flame is like a pack. My son, he claimed you all as part of his."

"Oh," Isaac nodded curiously but still looked a little lost. "Okay."

"It's important that you keep this to yourself," the sheriff's voice turned more serious. "From what my son told me, you lot know what it feels like to be hunted. Phoenixes are… hunted. You can not tell anyone what Stiles is, you have to guard his secret, do you understand that?"

Isaac blinked, but nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Good," the sheriff smiled and patted Isaac on the back. "Now pack your stuff."

"What?" Isaac and Derek asked at the same time.

"This isn't a place to live," the sheriff said, not unkindly. "And you are part of my son's flame. Which makes you family. So, you pack your things and you come with me. You're staying at our place, until we got you all sorted out. From what I gather, that's some… legal issues that need to be sorted in your case, son? We'll get to the bottom of that."

Isaac frowned but nodded. Derek felt a strange tenseness ease off him at the offer. He'd felt so alone since Laura's death and so overwhelmed since becoming an Alpha. He'd hoped that by becoming an Alpha, he could regain a pack and that would fix everything. All it did was make things harder. Now he had the betas looking at him for guidance and he had no idea what he was doing.

"Thank you," Derek whispered, looking at Stiles. "For telling me. My mother, she… she told me about phoenixes. I know it means a lot that you're telling me."

Stiles smiled at him, though the smile was thin. "Boyd and Erica know. They kinda… saw. Yesterday. It made me realize the pack's my flame. So it felt right to… to tell you too. Please come with us. We just wanna help. This isn't…"

"I know," Derek interrupted him, looking away. "Okay."

What else was he supposed to say? He knew he was in over his head. He did not have the luxury of declining help that he so desperately needed. He turned back to where his things were to pack.

/break\

Stiles stood leaning against the doorway of the living room in silence, watching his dad and Derek prepare the couch for sleeping. Isaac was upstairs settling in. Something in Stiles' chest eased knowing two members of his flame in his home. Boyd and Erica were safe at their own homes. Isaac and Derek were in his home now. Peter was safe in the penthouse. Scott…

Stiles shook the thought and sighed. Scott, Jackson and Lydia were something he still needed to think about. Jackson wasn't his favorite person, far from it, really, but over the past months, even before the Hale Pack had formed, Stiles knew his flame had slowly formed around their group. Scott, Allison, Jackson, Lydia, even Danny. It was the first time he had a group he spent time with. But Stiles didn't really identify them as flame just yet, since friend groups were normal for teenagers. But then they'd worked with Derek to kill Peter and that was when things started to cement themselves. Stiles knew it was messy, knew they weren't pack – not even Jackson, not yet, he needed to actually talk to Derek about being pack first, but the Alpha was too emotionally constipated for that. Right now, Stiles didn't have the mind to focus on this.

"What's on your mind, kiddo?" Noah asked when the couch was made.

Stiles tilted his head and motioned for his dad to follow him out to the porch. They left the house and Stiles turned to stare out the street. There were two others to think about and he was, right now.

"I think," Stiles' voice dropped. "What… What I didn't tell you earlier, because I didn't know how to say it… I still don't really know how to say it, but I wanna go and check on him and I don't wanna lie to you about where I'm going, but… I think I found my mates."

There was a beat of silence. "Mates. Plural."

"Mhmh," Stiles nodded and bit his lip. "I think I'm part of a triad."

Noah nodded slowly. "You don't wanna tell me who it is yet? Because you keep saying you 'think'. You wanna make sure before you tell me their identity."

"Yeah," Stiles nodded, relieved his dad understood. "And I wanna… check on one of them."

"Okay," Noah gave his son a look. "You text me when you get there, and when you leave."

Stiles offered a thin-lipped smile and pulled his dad into a hug. "Thank you."

"I know how mates work, kiddo," Noah huffed. "I know it's laced with fate. I was a phoenix's mate. I know there is no getting between a phoenix and their mate. I won't, ever, you hear me?"

He squeezed Stiles' neck and Stiles' smile twisted a little. He wondered if his dad was still going to say it when he heard that Stiles' fire was burning for two middle aged men. He swallowed hard.

/break\

Chris was tired. He hadn't slept last night. After spending half of it at Hale's penthouse, he'd returned home and he'd cleaned house. Kicked all of his father's hunters out of town and had a very, very long conversation with Allison about the hunter's code. About Victoria's death. About what Kate had done. About what Gerard had done – to Boyd, to, Erica, to Stiles. They talked for hours, until dawn. And then they hugged and Allison went to bed. Chris did too, turning and tossing until noon before he gave up and decided to physically clean house.

Chris couldn't sleep. All he could think about was Stiles. Stiles in that basement, with his wings broken, protecting the wolves, his flame, Stiles in the warehouse, a vision of vengeance and fury, Stiles in the penthouse, tired and snarky and too observant for Chris' own good.

Knocking on the door disturbed his spiraling thoughts. He put down the scotch and went to open the door. He was stunned to see Stiles standing before him, hands deep in the pockets of his hoodie.

"We need to talk," Stiles declared and pushed past him into the living room. "Allison…?"

"Allison is at Lydia's," Chris replied, following Stiles into the living room.

"So… I had the talk with Peter last night. Now it's your turn. But before that… Allison needs help. Like. Professional help. She lost her mom and then was all open to brainwashing into near murder," Stiles furrowed his brows. "I need us to be on the same page there, Christopher."

Chris frowned at that and crossed his arms. He didn't like the brat giving him orders when it came to his parenting. He hated it even more that Stiles wasn't wrong. He sighed and nodded.

"We're on the same page, Stiles," Chris confirmed softly. "I never wanted this for her. I never wanted to tell her about the family business. I… know she needs help."

"Okay, great," Stiles offered a broad, evil grin. "So, let's talk about you. And me. What do you want from me? Because I know what Peter wants. And I need to know what you want. There were some… signals, hard to ignore, but I think I need you to put it into words."

"What do you want me to say, Stiles," Chris heaved a sigh. "That I want you? That I shouldn't want you? Because I know that. You're my daughter's age, you're the sheriff's son and you already got a wolf sniffing around you. But you're… everything I want in a partner. You're fierce, strong, clever, beautiful, you're a fighter. I know I shouldn't want you, but I do."

"Okay," Stiles whispered and nodded.

"Okay," Chris repeated with a doubtful frown. "What does that mean?"

"I don't know yet. But I needed to know your intentions first before I can decide. What I do know is that you and Allison are part of my flame. And I protect those who are mine."

Chris swallowed hard at the warm feeling in his chest, even as he watched Stiles leave.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5: The School

It was kind of fun to go through the morning routine with someone else. Not just Isaac. When the boys started rummaging around in the kitchen, Derek joined them grumpily to drink a coffee while they ate. On the way to school, they talked mostly about lacrosse. Safe topic.

"Batman!" Erica yelped and wrapped an arm around him. "Isaac!"

She reached out to ruffle Isaac's hair too. Boyd fell into line with them on Erica's other side, taking her hand before greeting Isaac and Stiles. Stiles felt warm and happy, having part of his flame with him. Boyd and Erica exchanged a frown and then looked at Stiles worried.

"You… look good," Boyd noted lowly. "How…?"

Stiles grinned sharply and raised his eyebrows. "Wolves aren't the only ones able to heal."

"Oh, that's cool," Erica gasped with wide eyes. "Okay, so. What's next?"

"I'm gonna make sure you won't regret staying," Stiles declared, hip-checking Erica. "Der and Isaac are staying at my place for now. We're gonna… Things will change now."

"Okay," Boyd nodded, his eyes heavy on Stiles.

For now, Stiles was clinging onto that, as vague a concept as it was. Derek needed to Alpha up. The betas needed to form stronger bonds. Something needed to happen about Scott, Allison, Lydia, Jackson and honestly also Danny. But Stiles' chest felt tight with the stress of these thoughts so he pushed them away. For now, Derek and Isaac were okay and so were Chris and Peter. Gerard was dead, things would be fine. He would figure it out, the way he always did.

"Let's go, I believe we need to be tormented by Harris," Stiles heaved a sigh.

It was weird how much he was looking forward to just a normal day at school. Feeling normal. This weekend had been so overwhelmingly intense, so much had happened that was out of his control. He had done things… He just wanted to feel normal, just for a while.

/break\

Stiles had only one class with Scott that day and before he could worry about it did Erica pull him to the back row. Scott turned toward him and shot him a look, but all Stiles did was shrug. And once class ended, he got dragged away by Erica without giving Scott a chance to catch up too.

"I can't avoid him all day," Stiles pointed out. "I don't want to either."

"Maybe I do," Erica shrugged. "He still reeks of Allison, even after what she's done to us. He's a fucking traitor. And Isaac told me and Boyd about what he did at the warehouse to Derek. Like, what the fuck was that? Nah. You're ours now. He needs to earn Stiles time."

Stiles couldn't help the small grin at that. The two of them parted ways for their next class and Stiles spent it bored and mostly considering his flame. He knew there were inevitable things he needed to deal with. Like Scott. And Jackson. And also obviously his mates. Urgh.

He was glad when lunch rolled around, until he entered the cafeteria. At one table were Scott, Allison, Lydia, Jackson and Danny, while Boyd, Erica and Isaac sat at Boyd's old table. It was nice to see Boyd no longer sitting alone. As soon as he spotted Stiles, he waved at Stiles. Before Scott could spot him, Stiles ducked away to sit with the pack.

"I'm not going to take the first step," Stiles whispered to himself as he sat down.

"Good on you," Boyd clapped him on the back.

Stiles grinned at his wolves and started eating, while Erica recounted her parents' reaction to her coming home late last night. Apparently, the Reyes parents were really overbearing. Which kind of figured, considering Erica's epilepsy. They'd spent all her life worrying about her.

"Excuse me," Allison interrupted them after about twenty minutes.

Stiles blinked doe-eyed and turned to watch her, instinctively putting a hand on Erica's thigh to hold her back from doing something potentially problematic. Erica still gave a low warning growl and Boyd leaned forward a little, putting himself between Allison and the others.

"What's up?" Stiles asked with fake cheer.

"I… talked to my dad, a lot," Allison rubbed her arm, not really meeting any of their eyes. "And I… I'm sorry. For what I did to you guys. I was… I know I… I was angry and hurt and I… let it out on you, because you were good targets. He's right. He's right that I did that and that it was… messed up. And I'm… I should have never let Gerard into my head like that. It…"

Oh. Stiles leaned back and tilted his head. It scared her that Gerard had gotten into her head like that. He could see it plainly on her face. Good. Very good. That meant there was still redemption for her. She needed help, desperately, but the fact that she wanted help was what mattered.

"Chris said you're gonna go to counseling," Stiles stated casually, searching her face.

She paused, narrowed her eyes for a moment. "Yeah. Dad suggested it."

"Good," Stiles nodded, shoving some food in his mouth. "Probably shoulda sent you to it after your mom died. But dads tend to not really consider that. Mine didn't either."

He shrugged, looked at her for a moment. Her face softened some, taking the statement for the olive branch it was. Stiles knew how hard it was to lose one's mom, how much that fucked one up.

"Stiles…?" Boyd trailed off, looking from Allison to Stiles and back.

Boyd, Erica and Isaac were still new. The bonds he'd formed with Allison, Lydia, Jackson and Danny were older. Months older. Not necessarily stronger for it, though. The rave and the basement had bonded him with the three beta wolves. Stiles bit his lip and turned toward them.

"It's ultimately your choice," Stiles replied honestly. "Whether you want to forgive her, and if so when. But if you're asking for my opinion? She's… one of mine and I don't give up on those. What she needs is help and I'll make sure to give her that."

Erica sighed, very put on, and then waved at Allison. "Whatever, I threatened you when we were chasing the kanima from different sides. I'm not gonna be besties with you. But I'll tolerate your presence in Stiles' life, if we're actually on the same side now. But if you ever pull shit like that again with me or any of mine, I'll cut you up, Argent. You hear me on that?"

Erica flashed her eyes golden for a second. Allison's hand twitched, but she didn't take the bait. She just nodded. With that, Boyd and Isaac relaxed too. They both nodded at Allison, signaling that they were behind Erica on this one. Stiles smiled sweetly at Allison at that.

"I'm backing Erica on that one and I told Chris so too. Nobody hurts my people, not even another one of them," Stiles said simply. "But I do want you to get better. You've gone through a lot in the past couple months, I get that it was overwhelming."

Allison nodded awkwardly and tucked her hair behind her ear. When she turned around to head back to her table, Stiles got up and followed her, even with the wolves' protests. Stiles leaned against the table when Allison sat down, his eyes on Jackson.

"You're coming to my place after school today," Stiles announced, then turned toward Danny. "You can come too, if you want. I'm sure you have a lot of questions about how weird Jackson's been behaving in the past months. I have answers, if you want them."

"Stilinski," Jackson growled, two seconds from flashing his eyes.

Stiles shrugged unimpressed. "The others are over at my place after school. Including Derek."

Which was the most obvious way in which he could say 'pack meeting' without saying 'pack meeting' in public. Jackson raised his eyebrows intrigued and turned to exchange a look with Lydia. She had to nod her confirmation for him to agree, because that was how codependent those two were. Stiles heaved a sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose. And then Scott complained.

"Stiles, why is Derek at your place?" Scott asked confused.

Biting his lips, Stiles turned toward Scott. "Because Derek's there when I need him."

With that, he turned away and returned to Boyd, Erica and Isaac, walking past them. They immediately got up and followed him out of the cafeteria as he practically fled, his heart racing. He'd really just said that, to his supposed best friend. His unwavering loyalty made his words feel twisted and wrong and a part of him felt like throwing up. But he'd received some serious support in these last couple days and it made him realize that something in his relationship with Scott needed to change, if it was supposed to last. And he desperately wanted it to last.

/break\

Stiles: come 2 my house after school. Pack meeting. No dodging, Zombiewolf

Pretty Wolf: Stiles? Darling, how do you even have my number?

Stiles: don't worry about it lol just be on time

Stiles grinned to himself, wondering about the look on Peter's face. He startled a little when his musings about his mate were interrupted by Scott suddenly pushing into his line of sight.

"What did you mean Derek is there?"

Stiles blinked up at his best friend, who looked mildly angry. So Stiles had been able to dodge Scott for the most part, but then he allowed himself to get distracted by texting Peter. The room had cleared out, it was only Stiles and Scott. Frowning, Stiles put his phone down.

"What do you think I mean," Stiles huffed. "In the past months, I repeatedly called you, needed you, and you ditched me because you were on a date with Allison. And every single time, Derek was right there. Protecting me, fighting at my side."

Scott frowned, looking somewhere between upset and guilty. "I didn't… It's a lot, you know? Balancing everything. Being a wolf, the team, yes also having a girlfriend, but also having like multiple friends. It's always just been you and me, bro. Things are different now."

Stiles flinched away a little. "Yeah, they are. But how come it's our friendship that has to change?"

"It doesn't have to. I just… I just need time to adjust to this? Balance things better?" Scott looked a little desperate. "I'll do better, I'll get the hang of it."

"It's not just that, Scotty!" Stiles threw his hands up, glaring. "You may have quit Derek's pack in the worst way possible, but I haven't. I'm spending time with Boyd, Erica and Isaac, because they're pack. I'm pack. Jackson is gonna be pack once he actually talks to his Alpha. You wanna live in some kind of fairy tale bubble where you and Allison get to be happy and everything works out perfectly fine, but it won't. You're a wolf! Wolves need pack. You can't just pretend that things will be fine. Peter, when he bit you, was feral, because he didn't have a pack!"

Stiles stuffed his phone into his pocket and got up, fixing Scott with a glare. "That's your future. When you turned into a wolf, you were afraid to turn into a monster like Peter, just because you are a werewolf. Being a werewolf doesn't make anyone a monster. But this path you're on? It's going to lead you to be the thing you're most afraid of. Don't be stupid, Scott."

"Stiles…" Scott trailed off, looking like a wounded puppy.

"Nah," Stiles shook his head, sighing. "You went too far anyway, Scott. What you did to Derek… That was fucked up, I need you to acknowledge how fucked up that was of you. You were angry that Peter bit you without your consent, forced this on you. And you used Derek, forced him. You came up with a shit plan and you executed it alone, instead of talking to anyone. You should have told me, hell, you should have told Derek! We should have worked together!"

Stiles felt a fire flare in his chest. He closed his eyes tightly and breathed deep. For so many years, Stiles had clung to his dad and Scott as the only people he had. But now that there were other people in his life, he wondered if he'd been clinging too tightly. The thought hurt worse than he imagined. After his mom had died, Scott had been the only one he had in his corner.

"We're family," Stiles whispered, voice wavering. "Family fucks up but that doesn't break them up. But I need you… I need you to actually try, Scotty. I need you to do better."

"I… Okay," Scott nodded slowly, eyebrows furrowed. "But you… the pack. I just don't get it. They threatened us! They fought against us. They tried to hurt Lydia."

"Yeah. They fucked up too," Stiles nodded. "And then we started actually working together. Trusting each other. We're pack now and that means a lot, to me. I need you to respect that. The way I respected that you suddenly started spending all your time with Jackson and Lydia and Allison, ditching me all the time. Now I have other people I'm spending time with. Accept it."

Scott crossed his arms but he nodded sharply. "I guess that… makes sense. But…"

"No buts," Stiles shook his head and headed out the door. "Do what you need to do, get your shit together, and prove to me that you still care about me. That you're not… fading me out of your life because you moved past our friendship."

"I didn't!" Scott exclaimed, grabbing Stiles by the arm and pulling him into a hug. "I didn't. You're my brother. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm not doing… the best right now. I'm sorry I made you feel like that. I'm trying. I'm going to try and be better, Stiles."

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut as he returned the hug, burying his face in Scott's chest. "Okay. I… I have to tell you something. Something very important. But I can only tell you if you are ready to accept that the Hale Pack are going to be a part of my life. Okay?"

"Okay," Scott nodded, looking a little confused.

Stiles could not tell Scott right now. Not with how hostile Scott's relationship to the pack was. Scott was the person, after his dad, who'd been part of his flame the longest. But Stiles never told him the truth about his nature. At first, because Scott and Stiles were both kids and kids weren't good with secrets and Scott was a human. Now that Scott was a werewolf, things had been so messy and exhausting and dangerous. And now he had a flame, a proper, full flame.

"I need you to apologize to Derek," Stiles declared, straightening his back. "Whether you want to be in his pack or not, what you did to him was fucked up."

At least Scott did look guilty at that. Good start. Very good start. Stiles heaved a sigh. Okay.

/break\

It was kind of funny how Jackson sat with his arms crossed and pressed practically against Lydia like a shield. Danny on Jackson's other side looked mostly curious. Boyd, Erica and Isaac were seated on the other couch. Derek stood next to Stiles, glowering. It was cute how Peter lingered in the back, his eyes never leaving Stiles. Which was both flattering and flustering. Stupid wolf.

"So—o," Stiles clapped once, gaining everyone's attention. "Yeah, no, this one's on you, Sourwolf. Jackson's now part of your pack. Lydia is in the know but only halfway. And Danny needs to be in the know, because we saw what being on the fringe of things does to a person with Lydia."

He smiled cheerfully and clapped Derek on the back. The wolf growled, while the teenagers in the room all started talking at once. Yeah, Stiles had done enough explaining lately, he was not going to do the 101 Werewolves Are Real here. Instead, he snuck out of the house.

"And where do you think you're going, darling?" Peter asked once they were outside.

"Pack stuff is Derek's business. He has to learn to do this shit," Stiles shrugged. "I might be all healed up, but this weekend still was a huge hit and I'm… I'm tired, Zombiewolf."

A hand found its way into Stiles' neck, gently squeezing and draining some pain. He shouldn't be in pain, at all. Leaning into the touch, Stiles sighed. So maybe having died and being reborn, after being tortured, was not the perfect solution to everything. His body needed a little more time to recharge. Peter's hand was warm and firm in his neck, making him feel grounded.

"You coming with me?" Stiles asked as he climbed into his Jeep.

Peter was right behind him. "I'm going wherever you're going, sweetheart."

"Fuck," Stiles muttered and rubbed his face. "We're going to the Argents'. I had the conversation with you, I had the conversation with Chris. I need to have a conversation with you both."

Peter arched one eyebrow, seeming intrigued but not entirely pleased. That part was what was giving Stiles a headache. Well, among all the many, many things that were giving Stiles a headache.

"Derek's not a fan of you dragging others into this," Peter noted. "Lydia and the boy."

"Danny… Danny's already involved. He's been involved from the start. Maybe not as deeply involved as most of us. But he nearly got hurt with the kanima situation, he got dangerously close to Matt. He's involved," Stiles tapped his fingers against his steering wheel. "Before I joined the Hale Pack, we spent a lot of time hanging out as a group. Me, Scott, Allison, Lydia, Jackson, Danny. That's the group my flame started building around, and then we joined the Hale Pack."

"Mh," Peter nodded slowly. "You consider the boy one of yours. You should… tell Derek."

"Yeah, I will," Stiles grinned broadly. "Later. For now, I wanna see him handle himself. Or, well, I won't see it since I'm dealing with my troublesome middle-aged men."

"Stop calling me that," Peter growled lightly, flashing his eyes blue.

"Sorry. Bit possessive there," Stiles agreed. "Not mine."

"Well, that part I didn't mind," Peter huffed. "It's the middle-aged that's offensive."

Stiles snickered a little. That man was so easy to rile up. And he did a really cute nose scrunch. They reached the Argent home and headed to the door, knocking until an annoyed Chris opened. The man's face softened when he looked at Stiles and grew annoyed when he saw Peter.

"Ye—ep. That's what we gotta talk about," Stiles nodded and pushed inside.

"You are a bossy brat," Chris heaved an exasperated sigh.

Stiles grinned impishly and plopped down on the couch, trusting his men to follow. He slowly bit his lower lip as he looked at both Chris and Peter. Damn, they were hot. Even when they were glaring at each other. The hate-sex between them would be insane.

"So you want me and you want me," Stiles announced, pointing at Peter and then at Chris. "And you can't stand each other. And that's something we gotta talk about."

"Stiles, I told you before, I shouldn't want you and I know that," Chris heaved a sigh. "I have no plans on acting on any of this. And neither should Peter."

"I don't have morals to stop me," Peter raised a challenging eyebrow. "If you are stupid enough to back down, I'll keep the pretty birdie all to myself. Happily so."

Stiles snorted to himself, feeling giddy and gleeful at his wolf's possessiveness. The compliment also put a blush on his cheeks. Pretty birdie, huh? He preened just a little bit. And the dark, jealous glare on Chris' face also made Stiles feel pleased. Yeah, they were his.

"It's more complicated than that, Chris," Stiles sighed and bit his lip, ducking his head a little. "What do you know about phoenix mates…?"

Them wanting him, desiring him, was one thing. Telling them they were his mates changed that. It made them stuck with him. Not acting on it might not be that much of an option anymore. Anxiety started to rise in him, until Peter rested a hand in his neck again.

"Your heart-rate is getting concerning, calm down, pretty bird," Peter murmured. "I know phoenixes mate for life, I know they find their mates based on various factors though."

"Protection. Safety. Trust. Scent. Respect," Stiles listed, biting his lip. "You're mine. Both of you. So I need you to… come to terms with that and figure out what that'd mean for you. And depending on that, I need you guys to… find a way to get along. Because you're both my mates."

Both Chris and Peter stared at him in wide-eyed surprise. Stiles' chest felt a little lighter. Derek was talking to Jackson, Lydia and Danny. Scott was going to do better. Allison was going to try. Chris and Peter knew they were his mates. Stiles' eyelids felt heavy, he hadn't slept well since the basement. He spread his wings and wrapped them around himself as he curled up and fell asleep.