October 29, 2014

Never Too Later 14/17

Title: Never Too Late
Authors: Sxymami0909 & Xtremeroswelia
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Timeline: Set after 3.18 ‘Riddled’ AU from there.
Rating: R
Sequel To: Never Know What Hit You
Word Count: 155, 704
Pairings: Stiles/Lydia, Scott/Kira, Allison/Isaac, Sheriff Stilinski/Melissa McCall, Derek Hale, Cora Hale, Peter Hale
Parts: 14/17
Summary: In the wake of the Nogitsune's distruction Stiles is attempting to put his life back together, but things are never as easy as they seem. Meanwhile Scott attemps to mend his fractured pack but is it too late to fix what's been broken? Or will the past few months strengthen the bond between them? Lydia's link with Stiles has only grown stronger since the death of the Nogitsune and now she can feel Scott too leading Lydia to seek out information about her banshee origins from an unlikely source. While new relationships form, others are tested. Can our favorite trio fix what's been broken or will Scott's pack be broken forever?
Previous Chapters: | One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen |

Chapter Fourteen

It was so cold. His skin was prickled with goosebumps, body shuddering as he climbed out of the ice water, teeth chattering. He wasn’t in the white room, though. Not like usual. No, this time the bathtub was sitting atop the Nemeton. And the Nemeton was glowing. Bright yellow, sparkly light pouring from every crack and crevice and he knew that the Nogitsune was coming for him.

He backed away, stumbling and falling, hitting the ground hard enough that it knocked the air from his lungs. The figure forming in front of him was ghostly, but not transparent. More like a thick cloud of dark smoke. He tried to scramble backwards even as it wrapped itself around him, threatening to strangle him with its formless hands. He choked, sputtering and gasping and he felt it as it rushed into him, filling him with darkness again. With evil.

Guess who’s back, it whispered against his mind. I came back for you, Stiiiiiiles.

A tear ran down his cheek as it told him in detail all of the things that it had planned. The things it had planned for Lydia. For Scott and Melissa. For his dad.

I’m always going to be here with you. Just when you think you’re rid of me, I’ll creep back in and take you over. I’m here to finish what we started together.

Stiles whimpered in his sleep, kicking at his covers as they tangled against his legs, sweat breaking out on his forehead. He shuddered, hands clenching in the sheets.

He was standing in the McCall’s house now, driving a sword through Scott’s chest with a smirk across his face as blood dripped from Scott’s mouth. He gasped silently against the pain. Stiles screamed inside his head, but the louder he screamed, the more the Nogitsune twisted the sword in his best friend’s chest and oh god.

Oh god.

The sword was drenched in wolfsbane.

“Stiles, what the hell are you doing?” Melissa’s frightened voice came from behind and the thing wearing his face turned, cruelly ripping the sword from Scott and making her watch as his body crashed onto the floor.

He reached out, running his fingers across the blade and wiping off some of the blood. Then, he brought his fingers to his mouth and licked it, eyes dark and dangerous. “He tastes like death,” he whispered, stepping closer to Melissa next. “And you will, too.”

Stiles screamed, crashing hard onto the floor beside his bed, still tangled in the blankets and sheets as he tore at his own skin, tore at the covers, fingernails drawing blood on his arms like he’d grown claws of his own.

Michael’s footsteps thundered up the stairs. He’d been in his study when he heard the crash. His heart beat heavily in his chest; fear clutching at his gut as he finally made it to the landing and ran down the rest of the hallway to his son’s bedroom. He burst through the doorway glancing around frantically for Stiles.

He spotted his son flailing on the floor beside his bed. He moved forward grabbing at Stiles’ arms to keep him from scratching at his already bloody arms. “Stiles, wake up, it’s okay, Stiles wake up,” he said as he tried to calm his son down to no avail.

Stiles was crying heavily, sobs wracking his body as he shook in his dad’s arms, visions of Melissa and Scott dead on the floor because of his hands, because of him, still vividly playing in his mind. “Mom,” he whimpered. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Confusion crossed Michael’s face when he heard Stiles call out for ‘Mom’. His son hadn’t had a nightmare about his mother in a long time. Michael rubbed his son’s arms as he sat on the floor beside him, “Stiles it’s okay,” he whispered, “It’s okay, you’re just having a nightmare, wake up...Wake up son.”

Slowly his sobs began to fade away as he started waking up, tears still staining his cheeks. “Dad?” There was confusion in his voice as he looked up at his father, trying to figure out why they were on the floor.

Michael nodded, “It’s me, I’m here.” he said quietly as he continued rubbing his hand down his son’s arm. “You’re okay now. Do you want to get up?” He asked quietly, his chest tight.

It took him a moment to remember his dream and when he did, he gasped. “Oh god what did I do?” he whispered. “Did I hurt them? Are they here? Did I --” His voice broke.

Michael frowned, “Who? Did you hurt who? No one’s here it’s just us Stiles. Scott and Lydia are at school and Melissa is at work.” He offered trying to get the look of fear off his son’s face. “Everyone is okay, I promise. What happened? Do you want to talk about it?” He asked softly.

“Call her. Call her, please,” he whispered, rubbing a hand over his face as he started shaking again. “Check and make sure she’s not -- make sure I didn’t --” His stomach lurched and he quickly clambered to his feet, rushing for the bathroom and throwing up.

It took Michael a minute to realize that when Stiles yelled out Mom he was talking about Melissa. He sat on the floor for a solid minute, his chest so tight he was actually having trouble breathing. Michael swallowed heavily, pushed himself up and stood. He heard his son getting sick in the bathroom and he winced as he slid his hand into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. Michael dialed the familiar number and brought the phone to his ear praying that Melissa had a minute to answer.

Sure enough, she picked up almost immediately. “Michael? What is it? Is everything okay?” There was worry in her voice. She knew that unless something was wrong, he wasn’t going to call her while she was at work. Which meant that something was wrong.

Michael was silent for a minute, “It’s Stiles, he,” Michael’s words cut off as he ran a hand over his face. “He’s asking for you.” He whispered. It was both heartbreaking and heartwarming to hear his son call someone else Mom. He knew how much Stiles loved Melissa. For all intents and purposes she had been a Mom to him since Claudia passed.

And at the same time Michael almost felt like they were betraying her by giving the title to someone else. Even though rationally he knew that wasn’t true.

The pause on the line made her stomach tighten with dread, and even Michael’s words didn’t reassure her that Stiles was okay. “What happened? Is he okay?” she asked worriedly.

Michael shook his head even though she couldn’t see it, his hands reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “He had a nightmare, he wants to talk to you.” He said before moving out of the bedroom and towards the bathroom. “Stiles, I have Melissa on the phone son...Do you want to talk to her?” He called out trying to coax his son out of the bathroom.

Melissa moved away from the desk, signaling to Sally that she was taking a short break and she headed down the hall toward the nurse’s lounge, grateful to find it empty as she waited for Stiles to come to the phone.

Stiles’ skin was pale and clammy as he made his way out of the bathroom, eyes unfocused as he reached for the phone, still feeling nauseated. “Melissa?” His voice cracked.

Her heart clenched when she heard his voice crack, “I’m here sweetie,” she said as she sat in one of the chairs. “What happened? Do you want to tell me about it?” She asked keeping her voice low and soothing. She was worried for him. He didn’t sound good and she desperately wanted to be back at the house with him instead of so far away.

Tears flooded his eyes at the sound of her voice and he looked down at his hands, taking the time to count his fingers just in case. He shut his eyes tightly when he made it to ten. “I just -- I needed to make sure you were okay. You’re okay, right?” He could feel his dad’s worried gaze on him.

“I’m okay,” Melissa said quietly. She was silent for a minute. “Honey, how about I come home?” She responded softly, “I can pick up some of that chicken soup you like and we can sit and talk...or not talk if you don’t want to,” she rushed on not wanting him to think she was going to pry him for information.

“No, you shouldn’t -- I mean it’s okay, I don’t -- you’re working and I don’t want you to get in trouble. Dad’s here, I just -- I needed to make sure that I didn’t...that you were really okay.” He swallowed against the lump in his throat.

Melissa frowned, “Are you sure?” She asked keeping her tone light, “I’ve got sick days and I wouldn’t mind taking one,” she admitted. “I can be there if you need me Stiles, I will always be here when you need me.”

He rubbed a hand over his face wearily. “I know. I know. But you might need them or something. I’ll be okay.” It was dawning on him now that he needed to send Lydia and Scott a text to let them know he was okay, that he’d just had a bad dream, and they didn’t need to worry about him.

Melissa pursed her lips. “As long as you’re sure,” she said keeping her voice calm. “I’ll be back early today. I should be back by four, four-thirty the latest.” Melissa told him. “Do you want me to bring anything home for you?”

Stiles wiped a tear off his cheek, the vivid image of her and Scott dead in a pool of blood still too fresh for him to really be okay. He knew that it would have happened eventually. If they hadn’t gotten the Nogitsune out of him when they had, he would’ve killed them both. “No, just...just be careful,” he whispered before holding the phone back out to his dad. He moved back into his bedroom and picked his phone up off the nightstand, quickly shooting texts to his friends to let them know he was okay.

Michael watched his son go back into his room before clearing his throat and bringing the phone to his ear. “It’s me again,” he said his voice gruff.

She was quiet for a moment. “You both sound like you could use some company,” she said quietly.

“We probably could, but I don’t want you to have to leave work, we can wait...we’ll be okay.” Michael said even though he wasn’t entirely sure if Stiles would ever be okay.

“I have a large amount of sick time accumulated,” she told him gently. “But I don’t want to overstep any boundaries, either.”

Michael was silent for a minute, “He woke up crying for his mom,” he said quietly, “He woke up asking for you.” He closed his eyes. “You couldn’t overstep if you tried. Stiles needs us both…” Michael swallowed hard, “If you don’t mind...I mean,” he paused, “You can absolutely come home if you want.”

Melissa’s heart squeezed painfully tight at Michael’s admission and for a moment she didn’t know how to respond. And then she knew exactly how to respond. “I’ll be home soon.”

Michael nodded again even though she couldn’t see it, “We’ll be here.” He said, “See you soon.” He told her before disconnecting the call and leaning back against the wall wondering if this would ever truly be over.


Melissa sat on Stiles’ bed her gaze drawn to the teenager beside her. She ran her hand through his hair as she watched him shift slightly. She had gotten back to the Stilinski household close to a half hour ago. Stiles had surprisingly been asleep when she got there and Melissa decided to sit upstairs with him until he woke up again.

She didn’t like the idea of him waking up alone again. Melissa brushed his hair off his forehead before leaning back and letting out a short sigh. She hated that he was going through this and there wasn’t much that she could do. She felt him stir beside her and she tilted her head and glanced down at him waiting to see if he was waking up or just shifting in his sleep

He wasn’t sure how he’d managed to fall back to sleep. He hadn’t been trying. He’d been sitting at his desk, playing on his computer and his eyes had gotten increasingly heavier until he’d just given up and crawled back into bed even if he was terrified of sleeping. This time he hadn’t dreamt. Or if he had, he didn’t remember the dreams. He felt a soothing presence beside him, brushing fingers through his hair and he sighed softly, opening his eyes slowly.

He blinked a few times and looked up to see Melissa McCall curled up there right beside him, arm around his shoulders. And now he understood why he hadn’t had bad dreams. “Oh,” he whispered. “Hey.”

Melissa smiled, “Hey,” she said lightly, “I was wondering when you were going to wake up sleepy head,” she teased gently. “How are you feeling?” She asked softly giving him a look once again.

Stiles was silent for a moment and then he let his eyes shut, chewing his lower lip. “I dreamt that --” He hesitated, swallowing heavily. “I hurt you and Scott. Not just now, but before. When my dad called you.” There was shame in his voice. Guilt.

Melissa reached out and rubbed Stiles’ back. “It was just a dream.” She told him softly. “I’m okay, Scott’s okay, we’re all okay I promise.” She said softly. Melissa leaned in pressing a kiss to the side of Stiles head.

He wanted to tell her that she wouldn’t have been because wasn’t that something people should know? When you had something inside of you that wanted them really, really dead and you didn’t tell them that said thing had wanted them very, very dead? Wasn’t not saying anything kind of like lying and giving them the impression that you were a safe person to be around when you were definitely not a safe person to be around?

This time they were okay. This time he hadn’t killed either of them. He was so tired. He rested his head against her shoulder, chewing on his thumbnail. All of his nails were chewed down to the quick by now.

Melissa could see something in his face that made her frown. “What is it honey? What’s wrong? Talk to me.” She urged not liking how anxious and scared he looked.

“It wanted to hurt you guys,” he whispered, voice barely audible. God, did she even know that he’d tried to kill her son? That he could have succeeded? He squeezed his eyes shut tightly.

Melissa tightened her arm around Stiles. “Sweetie, it was a nightmare. I know this is hard, but you need to realize that you, Stiles Stilinski, would never hurt us. The Nogitsune is dead. Lydia killed it. You’re going to be okay, it’s just going to take time. And nightmares,” she paused, “They’re bound to happen even though I wish they wouldn’t. But I need you to stay grounded and remember he can’t hurt you or us anymore.” She told him softly.

He’d rather die himself than ever hurt any of them. He swallowed hard again, nodding against her shoulder and exhaling a shaky breath. “It just...it felt really real.”

“I know,” she whispered, “But it’s not. We’re real and we’re okay and that thing...well it’s never going to hurt anyone again least of all us. I promise. You trust me don’t you?” Melissa asked as she brushed some of Stiles’ hair from his eyes.

His expression was pained when he looked at her. “Yeah of course.” It wasn’t trusting her or Scott or any of the others that was the problem. It was trusting himself he wasn’t sure he could handle anymore.

Melissa could almost read what he was thinking by the expression on his face. “Well then trust that if I thought anyone was in any danger, I would do something about it. But you’re not dangerous Stiles; I just wish you could see that.” Melissa said softly.

Wordlessly, he wrapped his arm around her, burying his face into her shoulder and nodding slightly. Maybe he’d see it one day. That day just wasn’t today. Probably not tomorrow either. Everything was still too fresh in his mind. Too raw and right there at the surface of his mind. He just hoped someday he’d learn to trust himself again.


Michael set the cup of coffee down in front of Melissa before sitting down across from her. Despite the fact that it was just after two in the afternoon, Michael was pretty sure they both needed the caffeine. Stiles was out getting some air, the first time in a long time he’d left the house, and Michael figured now was as good a time as any to figure out how they were going to go forward with things.

“Thanks for leaving early today,” he said sincerely as he brought the cup of coffee to his lips and took a healthy sip.

“Not a problem,” she assured him with a soft smile, taking a drink of her own. She watched him for a moment. Truthfully she was almost as concerned about him and how he was dealing with things as she was about all of the kids that were caught up in this supernatural nightmare. “How are you doing?”

Michael ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I’m hanging in there,” he said as he rubbed a hand over his face. “I’m worried,” he admitted.

“Of course you are,” she said softly.

Michael glanced up and reached out resting a hand on top of hers. "How are you doing? I know this has been pretty crazy and you and Scott have uprooted a lot to be here constantly...I really appreciate everything you've been doing.”

“I’m worried, too,” Melissa admitted, meeting his eyes. “About you and Stiles, and Scott and Lydia. I’m also contemplating writing a handbook for other parents of children with supernatural inclinations.”

Michael couldn't help the deep chuckle that left his throat. He squeezed her hand gently. "At least you haven't lost your sense of humor," he commented. "I'm worried about Scott too," he admitted, "Lydia also. She seems surprisingly well adjusted though." He admitted.

Melissa nodded. “She’s well-adjusted but she’s also very starved for parental attention,” she said quietly. A soft sigh escaped her and she took another sip of coffee.

Michael pursed his lips. "She's different than I expected," he said curling his hand around the coffee, "But the three of them," he paused, "They help each other. I honestly don't understand it, but I do know Stiles wouldn't be able to get through this without Scott and Lydia." He told her with a sigh. "I just wish I could make the process easier for him...for Scott too. He’s so worried about being a leader and he's just a kid."

Melissa considered his words. Lydia really wasn’t what she’d expected, either. “You know, I think that your son might have the gift of seeing through to who a person really is. He’s loved her for years, long before she was ever the way she is now.” She looked into her coffee mug for a moment. “And Stiles...he’s strong. He’s always been strong.” But she also knew that in a lot of ways, Michael’s son was very much like a little boy, lost and hurting as he’d been since he’d lost his mother.

“I wish those things, too. It isn’t easy being the parents of children in a pack of werewolves. I almost feel like we should form a support group.”

Michael nodded agreeing with her about Stiles before grinning, "Weekly meetings for you, me, and Argent?" He asked with a slight chuckle. "It must be even weirder for him since technically Allison is a hunter...and yet she's part of Scott's pack," Michael paused, "She is right? Everyone’s working things out?" He asked.

She smiled, nodding. “Yes, she is. And from what I’m understanding, they’re all working things out slowly. I think it’ll be easier for everyone once Stiles is more back on track,” she admitted, pausing. “Scott may be the alpha, but Stiles seems to be pretty key in holding everyone together.” It didn’t surprise her, really.

Michael nodded. "I've noticed people being a bit more erratic in their decision making when he's not around." He was silent for a minute. "He's the heart." Michael said quietly. He brought his coffee to his lips and took a sip before glancing up at Melissa. "So, I know we haven't talked about it, but I realize at some point you and Scott probably have to head back home," he said scratching the back of his head.

Melissa was silent for a few seconds. “I don’t think either of us is in a rush,” she said quietly. “Aside from worrying about Isaac. I know he’s in good hands with the Argent’s, though.”

Michael nodded. He hesitated for a second before speaking. "You and Scott are welcome to stay as long as you'd like. It's nice having a full house." He added. Michael was silent for a minute. "Melissa, I was wondering maybe one night we could-" his words were cut off by a sharp knock on the door. He glanced over and frowned. "I wonder who that is," he said as he pushed away from the table sending Melissa an apologetic look before heading to the door.

Her heart had skipped a beat when he’d started his question because she had a question in mind that she’d been hoping he was going to ask for awhile now. She looked toward the door when the knock sounded, too, smiling faintly.

Allison Argent stood on the doorstep, book bag slung over one shoulder as she waited, looking uncharacteristically nervous. She wasn’t supposed to look or feel nervous. She was an Argent. But she was also a teenage girl. She smiled at Sheriff Stilinski when he appeared. “Hi, Sheriff.”

Surprise crossed Michael's face, but he smiled at the youngest Argent. "Hi Allison," he opened the door wider for her, "What brings you buy?" He asked his tone friendly.

“I actually meant to come by sooner, but things kept coming up,” she explained. “My dad asked me to bring this by for Stiles.” She hesitated and held up the cell phone in her hand.

Michael glanced down at the phone. "Huh, thanks. Stiles said he couldn't find it." He explained with a smile mentioning for her to come inside. "We just got him a new one," he told her.

Allison stepped inside the house as he took the phone from her, glancing over and seeing Scott’s mom sitting on the sofa comfortably. “Hi, Ms. McCall,” she said almost shyly, ducking her head a little.

Melissa smiled, "Hi Allison," she tilted her head to the side, "How are you sweetheart?"

“I’m good,” she assured her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “How’s Stiles? I saw Scott at school earlier.” Her voice dropped a little. “He said Stiles had a rough day yesterday.” And that Lydia had had some kind of bad dream last night, but she didn’t mention that.

Melissa glanced at Michael as he moved over to the couch clutching Stiles' phone. He nodded. "Stiles is doing better than he was, but yesterday was a bit of a setback," he admitted sending the teenager a tired smile. "He's going to be sorry he missed you." Michael commented.

There was warm concern in her eyes as she hesitantly moved to sit down in one of the arm chairs near the sofa. “Oh, he’s out?” She couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment at that.

Michael and Melissa both nodded before he spoke. "He left not long ago. Said he needed to clear his head." He told her. "Sorry kiddo, but I doubt he'll be long. You can wait here for him if you want. Lydia and Scott should probably be home soon too," he told her as he lifted his arm over the back of the couch behind Melissa.

It was such a simple action, really, that if Allison had been a little less perceptive, she probably wouldn’t have noticed how Scott’s mom leaned toward Stiles’ dad just a little. She had to suppress a smile because she had a feeling they didn’t even realize how very much couple-like they appeared sitting together like that. “I don’t mind waiting if it’s really okay. I mean if you guys are busy, I can just go sit in my car,” she offered.

Melissa made of face, "Of course not." She stood, "How about a brownie and some milk while you wait?" She'd made them for Stiles, but there was enough to go around. She was watching Allison for a response and missed the soft expression on Michael's face as he watched her.

Allison’s face lit up. “Ooh, brownies.”

Melissa chuckled and motioned for Allison to follow her into the room sending a small smile in Michael's direction before walking out of the room.

Moments later, Scott opened the door to the Stilinski household, glancing at back at Lydia. “No way is that even vaguely possible,” he said with a laugh. “There isn’t a score higher than an A. Right? Not really.”

Lydia shrugged, “An A+,” she suggested as she walked into the house behind Scott carrying her books in her arms. “But I guess it doesn’t really matter...and A is an A,” she said scrunching her nose. “Though if there was a grade higher, obviously I’d be getting it.” She told him matter-of-factly as she placed her books down on the table not even spotting Allison or Ms. McCall right away. Lydia plopped down in one of the chairs glancing back over at Scott.

“Hey guys,” Allison greeted with an amused smile as she overheard their conversation. “And she’s right; an A+ is higher than an A.”

Melissa shook her head, eying her son. “And Scott would know that if he studied once in awhile.” Her voice was only partially scolding.

Scott pouted, “I do study,” he defended himself while dropping his backpack to the floor.

Lydia arched an eyebrow. “I told you to study with me and Stiles the other night and you refused.” She pointed out poking lightly at her book.

Scott rolled his eyes up, “That’s because you’re like a study Nazi. You’re crazy with your notes and highlighters and numerical devices.”

“Pneumonic,” Lydia corrected, “And Stiles doesn’t seem to think I’m too nazi-ish,” she said making quotation marks with her fingers, “in my study approaches.”

Scott snorted, “I wonder why.”

Allison smirked at the two of them. “I doubt that Stiles finds you too nazi-ish in any way,” she teased.

Melissa shook her head, cutting up the pan of brownies she’d made earlier. “Scott, can you pour three glasses of milk, please?” she requested.

Scott glanced over at his mom and nodded, “Sure,” he responded as he walked over to the refrigerator.

Lydia arched an eyebrow at Allison and then paused straightening up. “Where is Stiles?” she asked her brows furrowing. “He isn’t here, why isn’t he here?” She inquired glancing over at Melissa. Lydia couldn’t remember the last time Stiles left the house alone.

“He said he wanted to go for a drive and try to clear his head,” Melissa told her. Truthfully she’d felt a little anxious since he’d left, but she was trying to remind herself that Stiles was a seventeen year old boy and he probably was starting to feel a little suffocated from staying inside the house so much.

Lydia opened her mouth, but shut it almost immediately. She was not going to freak out just because Stiles went for a drive. She would not be one of those girls who called and text him because she didn’t know where he was. It wasn’t a big deal. He was most likely fine. And yet she couldn’t help the anxiety that built inside of her.

Scott glanced at Lydia, “Relax,” he said calmly before glancing at his Mom. He scratched the back of his neck, “Has he been gone long?” He asked calmly.

“About an hour,” she told them, glancing between them with a concerned frown. “I’m sure Stiles is just feeling the effects of a very common illness called Cabin Fever.” Her voice was quiet and reassuring. “He’s been staying in this house without leaving for nearly two months, a couple of outings aside.” She put a hand on Lydia’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze before placing three brownies on plates and setting the plates around the table.

Allison looked at her best friend, and then at Scott, even her eyes filled with concern.

Scott brought two glasses over to the table and then went back for the third. He glanced up at his Mom and sent her half a smile, “I’m sure you’re right.” He said worried nonetheless. Why wouldn’t Stiles tell him he was heading out, his friend had to know they would have been worried and that’s the part that worried Scott.

Lydia glanced at the brownies and then at Melissa and Allison. “I think I’m going to pass on the brownie. I’m a little tired. It was a long day,” and she hadn’t slept well last night at all. “I think I’m going to go rest for a little while.” She said standing up.

Scott hesitated near the table, “Want me to come?” He offered.

Lydia smiled and shook her head, “I’m fine. Eat your brownie, but do not eat mine or we’ll have problems,” she joked before glancing at Melissa and Allison with a small smile and heading out of the kitchen towards the stairs.

Scott watched her go with a frown. He sighed and then sat at the table. “I am going to eat her brownie.” He stated.

“No, you are not,” Melissa scolded, slapping his hand lightly as he reached for the extra brownie, moving it away from him. “If you eat too much you’ll spoil your dinner anyway.” She glanced toward where Lydia had vanished.

"She lied to me, she doesn't deserve her brownie, plus there's a whole tray," he pointed to the tray on the counter before glancing at his mom. "Don't you know by now I'm always hungry?" He said with a smile noticing how his moms 'gaze was focused on the hallway. "She didn't sleep well last night," he commented, "She'll be fine." Scott assured his Mom knowing she was worried.

Melissa frowned at that. “She didn’t? She didn’t say anything this morning before school.”

Allison glanced toward the stairs. “Is it okay if I just -- go up and check on her?”

Scott glanced between his Mom and Allison addressing one question at a time. "Lydia wouldn't have said anything, that's not who she is." He said quietly before glancing at Allison. "It couldn't hurt, maybe she's just sick of me," he joked knowing that wasn't the case. It was Peter. Lydia had, had a particularly violent nightmare about the oldest Hale last night. Neither he nor Stiles had any idea what brought it on.

“Not even possible,” Allison told him, patting her hand lightly before rising to her feet. She paused, picking up her plate and then Lydia’s too, giving Scott a knowing look before heading up the stairs and leaving him alone with his mother.

Scott glanced at his Mom and cocked his head to the side. "You okay?" He asked lightly. His Mom had been dealing with a lot lately and she'd been a real trooper about all of it. Scott was lucky to have her.

“I’m fine,” she assured her son, moving to sit down across from her son at the table. “How was school?”

Scott nodded, "It was good. I got a B+ on my chemistry test," he told her while taking a bit of his brownie.

Melissa smiled at that. “Good job,” she said sincerely.

Scott grinned around his brownie, "Thanks mom," he said brightly, "And thanks for being so awesome." He said around a mouthful of brownie.

She made a face. “Don’t talk with your mouth full, Scott,” she said with a sigh.

Scott nodded and then sighed as he shoved more of the brownie into his mouth.

Melissa shook her head fondly and looked at him across the table. “My son the alpha werewolf has no table manners.”

Scott made a face and finished his brownie. He took a long sip of milk and then wiped his hands on a napkin. He sat there silently for a minute debating on bringing up something that had been bothering him for a couple of days. Scott shifted forward and caught his Mother’s gaze. “Can I ask you something?” He said his tone soft, voice quiet.

She cocked her head, leaning forward, as well. “Of course, Sweetheart. What is it?” There was a hint of worry in her tone.

Scott hesitated, “Do you,” he paused trying to figure out how he wanted to phrase his question, “Does it bother you that I am what I am?” He asked ducking his head as he scratched the back of his neck. “I mean...Do you think I’m I dunno,” his voice trailed off and he shrugged.

“Oh, Scott.” She rose to her feet and moved around the table so she was standing beside her chair. She reached out and cupped his face in her hands, making him look up at her. “I don’t care if you’re an alpha or if you’re a beta or you’re a magical fairy. You’re my son and I love you.”

Scott chuckled despite the moisture in his eyes. He swallowed hard and nodded, “I love you too, Mom.” He leaned into her touch for a minute taking comfort in it before catching her gaze again. “What about the sheriff? I don’t scare him or anything right, he doesn’t think that I’m a...monster does he?” He asked his voice quiet.

Her eyes were sad and she leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Of course not. If he thought you were a monster, neither of us would be here in this house right now,” she said sincerely. “Sometimes we’re both afraid for you. For all of you.” Her voice was quiet, but full of barely held back emotion.

Scott nodded, “I know you guys worry. I try to make sure we’re all okay. Everyone looks to me for answers and sometimes...I just don’t have them.” He said as he leaned back in his seat. “But we’re all really strong and as long as we stick together and look out for each other we’ll be okay.” He said with half a smile.

“And you’re not always going to have the answers, Scott,” she said gently. “Alpha or not, you’re still only seventeen.” She smoothed some hair back off his forehead. “Not having the answers is part of being a teenager. You’ll figure it out as you get older.”

Scott nodded knowing she was right. “I know. And our pack is strong. We’ve got one of the best hunters in our pack. Allison can hit anything from super far away. And Derek, he protects all of us. He’d risk his life for all of us. And Lydia...her abilities are growing fast and even though I don’t think she has a handle on them all just yet, she’s learning. Stiles is smart and I’m slowly learning how to deal with all this alpha crap,” he said with a short laugh. “Plus we’ve got Isaac and maybe even Derek’s sister Cora...we’ll see. She and Lydia might kill each other first though, so I don’t know.” Scott joked.

Melissa listened as he talked about the pack. None of the things he said was a surprise to her, really. After the last several months, she’d gotten to know most of the pack members fairly well, aside from Cora. And it was on her list of things to do. “And Michael and I may not officially be part of your pack, but we’re always here when you need us. Any of you.”

Scott grinned, “That’s because you guys are the best parents ever,” he said quietly. Scott bit the inside of his cheek, “Mom, I really like being here...I like being a family.” He told her as he crumpled his napkin up.

Melissa’s expression softened at that and she was quiet for a moment, a small smile touching her face. “I know,” she admitted, squeezing his shoulder.

Scott nodded. “I should start my homework.” He said glancing around the kitchen. “Later on in the week Derek and I are gonna go by Lydia’s and help her move her stuff over here...so it’s probably going to be a little busy here. Isaac will most likely come to and maybe Cora to keep Stiles company.” He shrugged, “We’ll see. I just wanted to give you a heads up.” He smiled and stood.

Melissa nodded. “Probably a good idea,” she agreed, knowing that all of the kids had fallen behind in their schoolwork and studying lately. “I’ll let Michael know. I’m sure it’s fine.” She wrapped her arms around him in a quick hug. “I’m going to start dinner.”

Scott leaned into the head and pressed a quick kiss to his Mom’s cheek before shifting out of her arms and pulling his bag up from the floor. “Best Mom ever award,” he said with a grin as he headed for the hallway, glad that he’d finally gotten that off his chest.

She watched him go with a small smile on her face, shaking her head. Her son the alpha.


He’d spent almost an hour simply driving around before deciding on a course of action. He briefly considered going to Deaton’s clinic to get wolfsbane before continuing on his newfound mission, but he decided not to be quite that aggressive. Not unless he had to be. He was pretty sure he could get his point across in another way.

Stiles’ grip on the steering wheel of his jeep tightened just a fraction as he drove across town and parked in the parking lot. He glanced momentarily at the bats in the backseat, but he decided against that, as well.

He made his way inside the apartment building, taking the steps two at a time until he reached the third floor apartment and knocked loudly on the wooden door, waiting.

Peter glanced up from the papers scattered across his dining room table, his head angling in the direction of the door. He pursed his lips at the sound of a rapidly beating heart, “What do we have here,” he murmured. He pushed the papers beneath a folder and turned walking across the room irritated at being disturbed. Peter was not having a good day.

His attempt to get into his little banshee’s head was unsuccessful. The little redhaired minx had fought him tooth and nail until she’d woken herself up from her dream. So much for his druid dream mix. He was going to need something stronger.

Peter reached the door and pulled it open mildly surprised to see Stiles on the other end of it. He grinned brightly and leaned against the door, “Well if it isn’t Beacon Hills’ newest villain come to darken my doorstep. What can I do for you, Stiles?”

Stiles suddenly wished he had brought his baseball bat with him because between the man’s cocky, knowing smile, and his own rapidly growing anger, he found himself wanting to drive it into the man’s skull. The thought was dark, violent. Familiar.

He stepped inside the older werewolf’s apartment without waiting for an invitation, glancing around before turning to face him. “I think it’s time the two of us had a chat,” he said, voice more controlled than it had been in a long time.

Peter arched an eyebrow as he closed the door. “Is it this new found sense of darkness and destruction that gives you the balls to walk into my home uninvited?” He inquired as he walked to the living room and then turned so he was facing Stiles hands crossing lazily over his chest. “Because I’ve got to say I certainly like this version better than the stumbling sidekick bit.” He commented.

Somehow that didn’t surprise Stiles in the least. “You always have enjoyed darkness and destruction, haven’t you, Peter?” he remarked, cocking an eyebrow back at him, surprised to realize he didn’t feel the least bit afraid of the man. Once upon a time, Peter Hale had terrified him. Then again, so had Derek. Things changed.

He’d changed. “I know what you did.” His voice was casual now, and he gave Peter the same knowing look he’d given Scott’s dad all those weeks ago at the sheriff’s station. Dark. Intense. Dangerous.

Peter studied Stiles for a minute noticing the subtle changes in the boy in front of him. He cocked his head to the side and dropped his arms from his chest. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I haven’t done anything devious in days. Sad really. I’m actually on a mission of sorts lately therefore my time at the moment is too precious to waste on a group of teenagers.” He said with a smirk, “Even big bad ones.” He mocked.

Stiles took a step toward him. “You mean other than trying to get back into Lydia’s head last night?” he asked, cocking his head and staring hard at the man in front of him. “You can try and deny it all you want, but your particular presence has left a very distinct...impression in her mind. And I know you were in her head last night.” He’d felt Peter’s presence himself in his half-conscious state and he’d spent most of the day wondering how much weirder their lives were going to get. He was pretty sure that Lydia had chalked it up as a nightmare, but Stiles knew better. He didn’t even know how exactly he knew, but he felt it on an instinctual, primal level.

Surprise flashed in Peter’s eyes for the briefest of seconds before he took a step towards Stiles studying him closer this time. He angled his head to the side. “You’re different.” He stated. “Something inside you has changed,” Peter commented. A flicker of curiosity caught his gaze as he looked at Stiles.

“Tell me Rambo, can you feel everything my little Banshee feels?” He asked taking a step closer, “More importantly how much of you can she feel?” He inquired a slight gleam in his dark eyes.

“A lot inside me has changed. Tends to happen when you have a homicidal demon riding your body for months,” he said, not backing away even as Peter approached him. “And she’s not your banshee. Hate to break it to you, but you’re not an alpha anymore. You may have been the spark that ignited her abilities, but that’s all it was.” His voice was cold. “And if you try to get into her mind again, you’re gonna regret it,” Stiles warned.

Peter pursed his lips and leaned into Stiles, “Someone’s feeling brave,” he said his voice hard, “Lydia will always be my Banshee.” He stated matter-of-factly. “I’ll always have a connection to her because of that night on the lacrosse field. It’s how I was able to make her bring me back to life,” he pointed out.

“And it’s how I got into her head last night.” He said no longer denying it. Peter smirked, “She came here you know,” he tossed out, “now I see she was trying to help you.” He commented. “But it’s clear she hasn’t taken my advice, lucky for me. If she had it would be a lot harder to get into her head.” He said while shifting back.

“I know having blood on your hands makes you feel powerful Stiles, but you do not want to cross me. You and I have a pretty easy existence by mutually avoiding one another. Let’s keep it that way shall we?” He asked pleasantly.

“Lydia has something I want and make no doubt about it; she’s going to give it to me. And no one, not my nephew and not you, are going to stop me from getting it.” He said his voice hard.

“You’re making an awful lot of assumptions there, Peter,” Stiles said with a faint smirk, not intimidated. “First with your thought that you’ll always have a connection to her. Your connection with Lydia is based on something twisted and dark. Doesn’t mean it’s permanent.” His eyes were dark as he looked at him with disdain.

“And yeah, you got in, but you also didn’t find what you were looking for did you?” He took a step closer, barely a few inches of space between them now. “Aren’t you wondering why that is if your connection to Lydia is so strong?” He arched an eyebrow, feeling something stirring within him. Something he’d felt the tug of before. Darkness? Power? He wasn’t entirely sure. But he was going to use what he had. “And for the record, Lydia and I don’t keep secrets from each other, so yes, I’m aware she came to see you with Derek for information about her banshee abilities.” He reveled in the look of surprise on Peter’s face. He’d really thought Lydia hadn’t said anything about it.

“This is the only warning you’re getting, Peter. There won’t be a second chance. You come after Lydia in any way -- physically, mentally, emotionally -- I’m going to know. And then I’ll come after you. I’ll come after with you with everything I have -- with every ounce of darkness that’s still in me, and there’s a lot more there than you’d think. I’ll come after you, Peter, and I’ll end you.” There was no hint of kidding in his tone. “And there won’t be enough of you left for all the king’s horses and all the king’s men to put you back together again. So you might want to think long and hard before you come after Lydia or anyone else I care about. Scott might not have it in him to kill. But I didn’t hesitate the first time around.” He smirked, enjoying the flicker of uncertainty over the other man’s face. “And this time, I’d even enjoy it.” He stared hard at Peter, his heartbeat calm and steady in his chest.

Peter swallowed hard, but he didn’t back down. “Oh Stiles, you’ve merely had a taste at being a murderous asshole,” His gaze hardened, “But I wrote the book.” He snapped, “And you keep boasting about that connection of yours. If the two of you don’t connect the right way soon, all of those little emotions flowing through her are going to drive her crazy. You know she thinks she’s finally mastering them...poor thing. She hasn’t even begun to scratch the surface,” he whispered. “I’ll get what I want eventually no matter who I have to go through to get it.”

A tiny, dark smile stretched across Stiles’ mouth and he leaned in, close to Peter’s ear. “Then bring it on,” he whispered, embracing the feeling inside of him for the first time. He walked slowly toward the door, not in a rush because he wasn’t afraid. Peter should be the one afraid of him.

Because he knew himself well enough to know he wouldn’t hesitate to take him out if he had to, by any means necessary. Not if hesitating meant Lydia or Scott or anyone he cared about was in danger. “Guess I’ll be seeing you again soon,” he said casually as he strolled out the door.

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