Chapter Text
Stiles wakes with the worst headache he’s ever had. It’s bad. He can barely see when he opens his eyes because everything is focused inward on every aching pulse beneath his skull.
“Please be quiet. You’re making it awfully hard to concentrate.”
Stiles tries to focus on where he is and the man who took him, but he’s dizzy and disoriented. He feels like he’s going to throw up. He’s pretty sure the words coming out of his mouth would get him in big trouble if his dad were to hear.
“Alright, fine.” The unfamiliar voice says, then Stiles feels a large hand on his forearm. As his vision begins to clear, he sees black lines traveling up the arm attached to that hand. The pain recedes and Stiles looks up at his captor.
The man’s features are unremarkable. His hair is short and his eyes are sharp. He looks like he doesn’t smile very much. “I forgot how fragile humans are.” The man’s voice is smooth and condescending. “A single blow to the head and you’re completely helpless. You’ll be much stronger as a wolf, don’t worry.”
The pain is gone but the confusion is still there. Stiles struggles to put pieces together. “You’re Derek’s uncle,” he says finally.
The man’s face sours. “I am Peter Hale,” he spits. “Not Talia’s brother, not Derek’s uncle . I am the Prime Alpha.”
“Okay, no need to shout. You gave me a bitch of a concussion, remember?”
Surprisingly, Peter smiles. It’s more of a smirk. “I like you, Stiles. Who knows, maybe you’ll become my Second instead of Scott.”
Peter Hale walks away from him then, sits on an armchair and picks up a book next to a steaming cup of coffee. It’s the same book Derek had finished reading last week. Stiles takes in his surroundings. He’s not sure why he expected to wake up in a dungeon cell after being kidnapped. Who has access to an abandoned warehouse nowadays? No, he’s lying on a couch in a simply furnished apartment living room.
Stiles attempts to sit up. It’s difficult but not impossible with his wrists in handcuffs. It’s a shame he was cuffed after being knocked out because most of the tricks his dad taught him involved adjusting handcuffs as they’re being put on. Short of finding the key there’s not much he can do to get out of them. The rest of him is unrestrained but the werewolf would be able to catch him before he could even think of running. He’s trapped. Well. Time to make the Prime Alpha do a villain monologue. He seems like the type.
“So, this is your big plan? Kidnap a teenager and vaguely threaten to turn him into a werewolf?”
“Oh, it’s not a threat, Mr. Stilinski,” Peter says, casually flipping a page. “It’s a promise.”
Stiles doesn’t dislike werewolves. His best friend and current crush are werewolves. But he’s also seen the difficulty that comes with such a big change. Scott is hiding things from his mom, scared of who he is and what he might do. Stiles’s impulse control is shaky at best and he’s worried about what his scattered, restless mind would do if it could tap into beastly instincts. There aren’t many fairy tales about a werewolf with panic attacks and ADHD, but he knows it wouldn’t end well.
“You’re building a pack…out of high school students.”
Peter tosses the book onto a table. “I don’t much like your attitude, Stiles.”
“You should reconsider this whole biting-me plan, then.”
“You shouldn’t suggest that, little one. Either I turn you or I kill you. That’s the consequence of knowing too much.”
Stiles notices his heart rate accelerate but his vision is clear. He feels as though his consciousness is floating a few inches to the left. “Fine. Either I’m part of your pack or I’m dead. Why don’t you tell me your big plan, then.”
Peter watches him for a few moments, a cat considering an injured moth. “It wasn’t supposed to be you. I was going to use Scott to get me Derek. Talia would do anything for her sweet baby boy.” Peter walks to the low table in front of Stiles’s couch and sits down, his legs bracketing Stiles’s knees. “But I’m quite fortunate, see. The one who started figuring it out is Derek’s little boyfriend. Derek will panic, as he always does, and Talia will come for you.”
“And then what?”
“Come on, Stiles. Use that clever brain of yours.” Peter moves to tousle his hair and Stiles pulls away. Peter allows it. “Haven’t you been researching in my library?”
Stiles takes a breath. “You want to kill her and absorb her power.”
“And then?”
“The next wolf in line will become alpha.” Laura.
Peter leans forward. Stiles can smell his aftershave. “And then?”
“Then you’ll kill her.” Rinse and repeat. Cora…Derek…
Peter seems hungry just thinking about it. “I’m already more powerful than the great Talia Hale could dream of. When I’m done decimating her Hale pack and creating one for myself in its place, I will rule my family’s land. As it should have been.”
Stiles feels sick. “Her Hale pack is your family.”
Peter stands and looms over him like a skyscraper. “Not anymore.” He tilts Stiles’s chin up with his finger. “You’re my family, now.”
*****
The wait is excruciating. Stiles regrets encouraging the man to talk. Everything Peter says makes him feel colder and emptier.
I could try and give your father the Bite. But his heart and liver aren’t what they used to be…not sure if he would make it.
Having a born wolf in my pack isn’t an option. Don’t worry, you’ll fall in love again.
I will have to make Scott kill his little girlfriend and her hunter family. Maybe leave their hands on the doorstep of neighbouring hunter troupes. Send a message.
Stiles doesn’t stop himself from dissociating. It passes the time.
*****
Talia opens the door and steps into the apartment as if she lives there. Peter is standing at the ready, cold and confident. Talia’s dark eyes are a stormy mixture of hurt, sadness, and disappointment. “What are you doing, Peter?”
“I’m taking what’s mine.”
Talia gestures to Stiles. “This child?”
“Why is everyone so obsessed with this runt? I don’t understand. It’s not about Stiles Stilinski. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Story of his life. “And now he’s in the right place at the exact right time.” Peter releases his claws. “He’s going to help me kill you.”
“I’m super not -“
Peter pierces his claws deep into Stiles’s shoulder and uses a wild amount of strength to fling him over a chair and straight into Talia. She has no choice but to catch him. Peter appears behind them and slams a taser rod into Talia’s neck. Stiles feels the residual shock of it through her hands around his chest. They both collapse.
Peter shoves Stiles away as if he’s a bag of garbage. He crouches over Talia and raises his hand to slash her throat.
Someone slams into Peter and sends him sprawling to the floor. They tussle, all teeth and claws and adrenaline strength. Stiles scrambles backwards, ignoring the throbbing pain in his shoulder. He yanks the cord of a table lamp out of the wall and holds onto the ceramic like a shield.
Talia shakes herself and is on her feet in an impressively short amount of recovery time. She charges forward and flings Peter off of his assailant. Only then is Stiles able to get a good look at who Peter was fighting with.
It’s Derek. His hair is messy and he’s got scratches on his arms. One of his eyes seems to be fighting the urge to swell up and purples into a faint bruise instead. He begins to jump back into the fight but Talia stops him with a snarl. “Go, Derek!”
The young werewolf scrambles to his feet. Instead of running toward the door, he skids toward Stiles. Strong hands lift him by his arms. “Stiles, are you okay?”
“I don’t think so,” he replies faintly.
Talia and Peter are circling each other, growling deep and low. Then Scott kicks open the door. Everyone turns to look at him and he seems just as startled by his own entrance as everyone else. “Leave my best friend alone!” He yells. When he re-tells this story in the future, Stiles promises to omit the way Scott’s voice cracked a bit.
Talia seems doubly panicked at Scott’s appearance. Only then - as Peter smiles darkly - does Stiles understand how their stupid, foolish bravery has given the man a significant advantage. They aren’t back-up or reinforcements. They’re an injured human with a big mouth, a fresh new werewolf who still carries his inhaler with him even though he doesn’t need it, and the alpha’s hot-headed son. Talia would have had difficulty taking Peter down one-on-one, but now she also had to protect them. They were distracting her.
“We have to get out of here.” Stiles says, then shouts. “Scott, go!”
“Not so fast, puppy,” Peter sneers. His eyes bleed into a deep red and his next words are low and commanding. “Come here.” Scott’s eyes flash gold in response and his expression becomes stone. He walks forward. Peter begins to transform, his bones snapping and his limbs elongating. Stiles remembers the glimpse he got of Peter’s alpha shift in the woods when Scott was bitten. Talia’s wolf form is fast and strong, but Peter would be almost three times her size. Peter speaks through a mouthful of large teeth. “Attack.”
Scott leaps forward, claws extended.
And Stiles throws the lamp at him.
His friend yelps, but more in shock than in pain. It’s the window that Derek needs. Stiles and Derek run toward Scott and bowl him over backwards. They tumble together into the wall and then scramble behind a couch. Scott shakes his head like a frazzled dog. His eyes are clear and brown again. Derek crouches over the both of them protectively. Maybe it’s the blood loss, but Stiles thinks he looks pretty cute in his beta shift.
The sounds are terrifying - Peter’s monstrous roar and Talia’s animal snarl - but they can’t look. The best they can do for their alpha is stay hidden and keep each other safe. It sounds like every piece of furniture in the living room gets broken in the fight.
There’s a roar of pain and a splatter of blood along the wall nearby, then a horrible few seconds of silence. Derek speaks through a shaky exhale. “Mom?” There’s no response.
Then a black nose pokes around the side of the couch and Talia trots to their makeshift huddle. She nuzzles Derek’s shoulder and he’s too relieved to protest. He buries his face into the fur of her neck. They don’t acknowledge the blood on her paws and chest. Most of it isn’t hers.
Sirens begin to wail through the open window. Talia grabs Derek’s wrist in a gentle bite and beckons him to follow her. Derek watches her slink out the door. “But, wait, what about -“ She cuts him off with a bark.
“We’ll be okay,” Scott reassures him. Derek holds Stiles’s gaze for a few seconds and, for some reason, the concern and care makes Stiles feel like crying.
“Go on, big guy. I’ll see you later.” Derek disappears through the doorway.
Of course it’s his dad who’s first on the scene.
“Stiles? Scott?”
“Hey, pops.”
“Hi, Sheriff.”
Sheriff Stilinski gives the best hugs. “I was so worried about you.” He pulls back when Stiles lets out a squeaky wheeze like a balloon. “Are you hurt?”
“Sheriff?” Jordan Parrish is standing over the mauled beast that used to be Peter Hale. Stiles diverts his gaze quickly. He has enough nightmares as it is.
The Sheriff’s eyes widen as he takes in the ruined apartment. He seems torn between documenting the crime scene and inspecting Stiles’s bleeding back. Parrish finally seems to notice who the boys are. “I got this, boss,” he says, although he doesn’t look like he believes it. “You take them home.”
“You sure?”
“Mischief looks like he’s about to pass out. Take care of him.” His dad can’t argue with that. Besides, he could get their statements while they sit in the waiting room. Stiles begins to formulate an elaborate lie and a plan to tell Scott without the Sheriff knowing, but then the fight drains out of him. His dad has to half-carry him to the cruiser.
“Buckle up, dad. Scott’s got a wild party trick to show you.”