Triumvirate

by Lara Wilson

"Do you want the bite?"

The question was so casual, so unaffected, that Stiles simply stared. For the past hour he'd expected to be turned or killed.

He hadn't expected to be asked.

"What?"

"Do you want the bite," Peter enunciated, his eyes locking onto Stiles'. "If it doesn't kill you--and it could--you'll become like us."

Stiles swallowed hard, the fear he'd been able to control--mostly--nearly choking him. "Like you."

"Yes, a werewolf. Would you like me to draw you a picture?" He took a step forward and Stiles forced himself to hold his ground. "That first night, in the woods, I took Scott because I needed a new pack. It could just have easily been you. You'd be every bit as powerful as him. No more standing by his side, watching him become stronger, quicker, more popular, watching him get the girl. You'd be equals." Peter paused and then added softly, "Maybe more. If you accept me."

Frozen, Stiles watched Peter take his arm and slowly bring Stiles' wrist to his mouth. His lips parted, there was a flash of fang, and then he smiled and his fingers, claws retracted, caressed his arm through the thin sleeve of his shirt. "I really do like you, Stiles. You're very brave. You even talked back to me. I find you...intriguing."

Stiles swallowed again, his mouth dry, his legendary tongue silent. There was something else going on here besides the offer to become a werewolf. Finally, he choked out, "I'm not trying to be."

Peter grinned sharply then let his nose run across the bared wrist. Stiles tugged but couldn't free himself and he stilled when he felt claws pierce the shirt.

"I could bite you without your consent. Make you my Beta like Scott. Or you could be so much more, Stiles, if you just agree."

"What...what would I be?"

The smile he got was enigmatic. The claws retracted and the hand holding him slid down to his wrist, pushing his shirt cuff up. "Powerful. Powerful enough maybe even to stop me." Peter made a dismissive noise. "Derek can't. He's too bound by his instinct to be loyal to family and pack. He'll try, but his wolf will stop him. And Scott? Scott's too young, too new, too desperate. Even together they can't stop me."

"From doing what?" Stiles whispered. "What are you planning?"

"To finish it. All who played a part in the destruction of my family must die. There's only one left. Well, except for Derek, and I forgave him because he's mine."

Stiles was knocked out of his still state by that. "Derek?"

Sighing, Peter nuzzled against Stiles' wrist again. "He was seduced by that Argent bitch while still a child. He told her all our secrets and she used them to destroy us. His guilt and his survival with it are punishment enough."

Everything clicked in Stiles' head. It all made sense now, and he felt a blast of fury at Kate Argent, because he was sixteen and stupid and male and knew how easily a pretty girl could make him do anything.

"She...she still doesn't deserve to be murdered. My dad..."

"No." Peter spoke sharply and jerked Stiles towards him so that their bodies brushed. "Jail isn't enough. We live by an eye for an eye. Let me turn you and you'll understand. Or," he added coyly, "You can try to save her. You can try to kill me. You're strong and determined. You might be able to fight your wolf long enough to take down your Alpha."

"Why would I be able...Why, if Scott can't, why me? Why...?"

"You're smart, too. Accept my bite and figure it out."

Stiles shook his head and tried to pull back, but the claws came out again, this time scraping along his wrist, across the back of his hand, and he winced and bit back a groan of pain.

"You'd be strong, Stiles. You can protect your friends, your father. You know, if he interferes..."

Anger flooded him and he used his free hand to push at Peter's chest. "Leave my dad out of this."

"Then save him from me."

Their eyes met, Peter's full of sick amusement, Stiles' full of fear, but it was no longer fear for himself.

He didn't want to be a werewolf, but he had to protect his dad.

The last thing his mom had said to him besides that she loved him was to ask him to look out for his dad.

"Yes," he bit out. "Okay, yes, bite me, and you better hope it kills me."

Peter laughed, and as he did, his fangs came out, his face changed, and with a movement too fast for Stiles to see clearly, he bit the wrist he held.

Stiles screamed.

He awoke on the floor of the garage. The car and Peter were gone and his wrist throbbed in agony. As he pulled himself to his knees, he swayed sharply at the sight of the tacky blood pool where his hand had lain. A glance showed him the four deep wounds still bled, but Peter had missed the major veins. Dizzy, Stiles got to his feet and took the few steps to his jeep. Slumping against it, he opened the rear window and reached through for his gym bag. Removing a mostly clean towel, he wrapped it around the wound and pressed down hard. He nearly screamed again and his sight dimmed, but he held on.

He had to find his dad, find out if Lydia was alive.

Stop Peter.

Digging deeper into the bag, he pulled out his spare jeep key. "Not so smart, are you Peter," he muttered as he pulled himself behind the wheel. Now if he could just keep from passing out again...

Before Stiles entered the hospital he checked the wounds. They weren't bleeding anymore, so he wiped away the drying blood and tossed the towel, before changing out of his bloody shirt into a t-shirt and his favorite red hoodie.

Great, looked like he was going to live.

He headed into the hospital.

Stiles' dad was pissed but fine. Lydia was alive but seemed to be fighting the bite. Jackson was a douche. Chris Argent and his hunters were even douchier and stupid to threaten the Sheriff's son, but let him and Jackson go when Stiles convinced him of Kate being behind the fire.

Grabbing Jackson's Porsche keys, because the car was so much faster than his jeep, Stiles ran over what he'd need from the school and how little time they had. As he drove the sports car, ignoring Jackson's cries of alarm and grabbing for the bitch handle, his mind felt like it was in overdrive.

It wasn't until they were bouncing along the forest trail, that he realized the pain in his wrist was gone.

On arriving at the Hale House, Stiles immediately took in everything--Allison crouched over her father, trying to wake him; Scott on the ground facing the monster that Peter had become; no sign of Derek or Kate. Honking the horn, he jerked the car to a stop and bolted from it, arm already raised to throw the beaker.

When Peter caught it, he felt his heart stop and he nearly stumbled backwards as the Alpha roared at him. "Oh...damn..."

Before he could think of what to do, he heard Scott yell at Allison as he tossed her a crossbow. She loaded it and shot, and the beaker exploded into flames, setting Peter's arm alight. As he shook it and roared, Stiles glanced back and watched Jackson lob the other Molotov cocktail, hitting the Alpha square in the torso.

Peter's screams forced Stiles to stumble back. They were so loud, so painful. They pierced right through his skull and, grabbing his head, he nearly fell to his knees.

His wrist began to burn with invisible flames and he clawed at it, but there was nothing there. Agony flooded him and he finally did fall. As he did, he saw Peter fall as well, the flames consuming him. The acrid scent of burnt hair and skin hit him and Stiles gagged.

Everything felt, smelled, sounded so much more.

Stiles felt his teeth elongate, fangs scraping his lips, and the hand gripping his throbbing wrist grew claws.

It had only been an hour.

This was...too soon... too much.

He felt like screaming, but Peter's pain took his breath and voice, and all he could do was whimper and start to crawl towards his Alpha, following an instinct he didn't understand.

And then the pain vanished and he felt strong and angry, so angry. As he found his feet, he felt his body changing, shifting, and he ran faster than he'd ever run before, to Peter who was still burning, but had returned to his human form.

Their eyes met--red to gold--and Peter managed a smile. "So...beautiful..."

"I told you I'd stop you," Stiles growled as he straddled Peter's hips and glared down at him. The burnt flesh made him want to gag but he forced that instinct down and ignored the new, wolf ones that whined for him to help his Alpha. With the pain gone, it was slightly easier.

"But...can you kill me?" Peter gasped out. "It won't turn you back. That's a fairy tale. And you don't want to be Alpha."

He didn't want to be a werewolf, but he'd never believed that story about killing your maker.

But, Peter was right, he didn't want to be Alpha either. Someone needed to be, though, and while instincts urged him to drop to his knees and do what he could to heal his Alpha, his intellect worked through scenarios to get rid of Peter.

Behind him, Scott seemed to finally figure it out, and gasped out his name in horror, but Stiles ignored him, then a new scent pushed past those of burnt hair and flesh.

Derek.

"Stiles? What...what did you let him do?" the older wolf whispered in shock.

With a small shake of his head, Stiles shifted back to human. It was so easy. Why had it taken Scott so long to learn control? His eyes met Derek's also human ones and neither blinked.

"Kill him."

"I...can't."

"We need an Alpha and I'm too young." And he didn't want it. It wasn't meant for him. He was something...else. Annoyed at his weird thoughts, Stiles stared down into Peter's glinting--was that pride?--eyes.

Behind them Scott was protesting, begging Derek not to kill Peter, something about Allison and her family. He still believed the fairy tale.

When Stiles spoke again, there was power in his voice, a power that came from somewhere new inside him. "Kill him, Derek."

"I wasn't meant to be an Alpha."

"Neither was he," Stiles lashed out, grabbing Derek's arm and jerking him forward and down to his knees so easily. "Do it!"

"Oh, Stiles. I was so right about you," Peter sighed, then flashed red eyes at his nephew. "Do it, Derek, but you know, in the end, you'll fail."

Derek growled and with a flick of his claws sliced through his uncle's throat.

Stiles stepped back quickly to avoid arterial spray, but Derek let it hit him, his head bowed, his body trembling.

For several minutes, silence fell, then Derek pushed himself to his feet and glanced over his shoulder at Stiles. "I'm the Alpha now," he mourned.

Stiles looked into the red eyes and nodded.

"Why, Stiles?" Derek's eyes drifted down to Stiles' right wrist, where the hoodie had been pushed up, revealing the healed bite.

"Because he was right. You couldn't have done it alone and neither could Scott." In his bones, he knew that to be true. He just didn't understand why. He was new. It didn't make any sense. It...

A memory flashed through his oddly still mind, a random web page that had yielded rather salacious information about werewolves and their mates and the claiming bite.

On the wrist, a consensual bite creating a bond to make both more than they had been.

Stiles felt himself go white and he swayed, nearly falling, until he staggered against a tree. "What did he do to me, Derek?"

"Jesus, Stiles, you let him claim you as his mate."

Yeah, that was it. Inside his head, his wolf howled over the loss, but he shook it off, denied it. He couldn't deal with that right now. "Well, then it's good he's dead," he replied shakily and pushed away from the tree to walk towards a stunned Scott. "Bury the bastard, Derek. We'll talk later."

He didn't even realize Derek didn't protest the orders coming from a Beta wolf.

"Stiles?" Scott asked, stunned.

Stiles shot him a grin and quipped, "Looks like I'll be playing first line right alongside you." Deflect, ignore, those were his mantras right now, as his mate--Jesus--lay dead behind him.

"But, you never...It's not what you wanted."

Shrugging, he gave his best friend a manly hug. "We had to stop Peter. It's worth it. Come on, dad's already pissed at me. Jackson'll take us home."

He also didn't realize that Scott fell right into step with him.

Physically Stiles felt incredibly good. While he could hear and see and smell so much better, it was easily controlled. He knew it shouldn't be this easy, but maybe that was the mate thing. Emotionally he was a mess, but he couldn't deal with that now. Much, much later. Right now home and bed and...An image of Lydia flashed into his mind. "We need to check on Lydia."

Tossing Jackson the keys, he slid into the narrow back of the Porsche. "Hospital."

Scott and Jackson both got into the car.

The last thing he saw was Derek watching them leave, his eyes red and so very sad.

Dad was still pissed. Lydia was going to be okay but the bite wasn't healing quickly which didn't make any sense. His had healed in a couple hours but left scars, which was not the norm. Scott and Stiles talked about everything but the fact that Stiles was now a werewolf and Peter had taken him as his mate. Stiles also resisted looking into that and, since Derek seemed to have vanished, he didn't have a first hand resource to approach. He figured the scars were part of it, and he found himself rubbing them when his mind would drift.

He practiced using his wolfy senses, listening to the new voice inside him, and, if, at night, he had vague dreams of Peter and warmth and cuddling and family, upon waking he managed to ignore them and focused on school and pacifying his dad.

And then Lydia vanished from the hospital.

Stiles was the one to find her. Using his new abilities he tracked her deep into the Preserve and then back to the edge, where he found her sitting, naked, in a patch of wolfsbane, making a crown of the flowers.

As he crouched in front of her, careful not to touch any of the flowers, their scent making him dizzy, Lydia looked up at him and slowly blinked.

"Stiles?" She began to shake and her eyes widened in fear. "What...? Where...?" Frantically she looked around, then dropped the flowers and tried to cover herself. Tears spilled from her eyes and she began to shiver as if just now feeling the cold. "I was...Was I looking for you?"

Trying not to gape, Stiles yanked his hoodie over his head and handed it to her. She slipped it on, scrambling to her feet and yanking it down, the top long enough to cover her.

"What happened and why would I need to find you?"

Stiles didn't get the latter at all but he shook it off and addressed her first question. "I don't know. You disappeared from your hospital room early this morning. Everyone's looking for you. I think you must have been walking all that time. You've circled around. The road's just about half a mile that way." He pointed over his shoulder, then stepped back and waited for her to walk out of the deadly flowers. "I can carry you."

She gave him a disbelieving look, the real Lydia suddenly back. "With those scrawny arms?"

"I'm stronger than I look."

"I'll walk."

He shrugged and they began to head back down a deer trail. Carrying her probably wouldn't have been a good idea anyway. The pollen on her was giving him a headache.

"So, is everyone looking for me? Jackson?"

Stiles tried not to roll his eyes as he filled her in on the events of the day.

When Stiles got home after leaving Lydia with his dad and EMTs, he found Derek lurking in a corner of his bedroom.

Not quite seventy two hours had passed since he became a wolf and they'd killed Peter. While Stiles hadn't sought out Derek, for some reason he'd thought the new Alpha would come to him sooner. He wasn't sure why he thought that. The wolf inside him seemed to expect certain things his human side didn't understand.

"We need to talk."

"Sure, sourwolf. What about? Oh, yeah, that werewolf thing." Keep it light to start. Let Derek lead them where Stiles wanted to take this conversation. Closing the door behind him, he flopped onto his bed and turned on his bedside lamp. He could see in the dark now but he still liked light.

Derek gave him a disgruntled look and sat down stiffly in the desk chair, facing the bed. "I never thought you wanted to be a werewolf."

"I didn't, but I have this sometimes annoying need to protect those I care about, and Peter was threatening them." Placing his hands behind his head, he kicked off his shoes and scooted up to the headboard. "You don't need to worry about me. I've got it under control."

Derek's look was now his skeptical one. "You've been a wolf for three days."

"I'm a werewolf savant."

"Don't joke about this," Derek snapped.

Stiles scowled. "I'm not. I have it under control. All the senses, the change. It's easy." But, it shouldn't be, and he knew that. "Why is it easy?" He sat up and leaned towards Derek and held out his wrist. "The location, the consent, the fact that it scarred and didn't just vanish, I know what this is. Is it what gives me control?"

"I don't know. I've never seen or heard of a mating and turning bite being combined. In my family, the mating bites were always given after someone was turned or to those who were born wolves."

"Peter was in a rush, but...why me?" That's the biggest question Stiles had been trying to ignore. Why would Peter Hale, twice his age, and nuttier than the proverbial fruit cake, want him as a mate? Yeah, he'd noticed the hyperactivity was fading since the bite, and he'd experimentally not taken his meds that morning with seemingly no consequences, but he still talked too much, was annoying, and was sixteen. And not a ripped god like Derek.

Derek gave him a look of disbelief. "I always knew you'd make a strong wolf."

"Yeah, I can see that, but mate? Don't get that one at all." He ran a hand down his body. "Not a thing of great beauty."

"It's not about that. Mating is an instinct. Sometimes it's someone you've known for years, been with for years. Sometimes it happens on first sight with a stranger. If it's between two wolves, both feel it or it doesn't happen. With a human, it's different, but either way, outer appearance doesn't matter at all. Neither does gender."

Stiles snorted at that, then shrugged his shoulders. "Well, it doesn't matter. He's dead. The bond was never, um, y'know, consummated, so it'll go away, right?" At Derek's nod, he continued, "Then good, I'll continue my five year plan to get Lydia to fall madly in love with me. I found her naked in the woods earlier, so that's a check on the pro side. And she was naked." He grinned sappily in remembrance.

Derek stood and shoved his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. "Do you want to be in my pack?" The question came rather reluctantly and Stiles rolled his eyes.

"You have a pack?"

"I will. I have to. I won't be an Omega."

"Can you be an Omega Alpha?"

"Yes, and I won't be one. I need to hold my ancestral land. You made me Alpha, Stiles, I need you in my pack."

"I...made...?"

"As the Alpha Mate, you gave me the strength to..." Derek shook his head. "It should have been you."

"Yeah, so not wanting that. And I'm not the Alpha Mate or whatever anymore, but, okay, yeah, I'll be in your pack. Do we have a secret handshake."

Derek growled in annoyance and Stiles grinned unrepentantly. "I'm looking for a new place to live since the Hunters have taken over my house. I'll text you with the address in a few days and we'll start training." He held up a hand before Stiles could protest. "You may be able to control your senses and the change, but you still need to learn to use your abilities. Peter's gone, but the Argents are still here and it won't take them long to figure out you're now a wolf. With Kate's death, they're going to be looking for blood, our blood."

"I...Peter told me about you and her, I mean, what she did to you. She deserved what she got." That came out a bit vicious, but Stiles felt no sympathy for the bitch. When he saw the flicker of pain and guilt in Derek's eyes, he sighed and stood. "It wasn't your fault, you know. You were a kid."

"I was stupid," the other wolf bit out before jumping out the open window.

Stiles rolled his eyes and closed the window, not that doing that ever seemed to do any good. He really needed to get that lock fixed.

Waking from a really good dream of walking in a field of flowers hand in hand with Lydia, Stiles pried open his eyes to check his alarm clock. It was twelve after four in the morning. He groaned and closed his eyes again, mumbling, "Too early." And a really too good dream to waken from. Hoping to sink back into it, he rolled over onto his other side and bumped into something. Frowning in confusion, he opened his eyes again and, his night vision vastly improved, he saw her.

Lydia, curled on her side, cheek on one hand, the other now pinned beneath his body. She was under the covers and deeply asleep and...what the fuck was she doing here?

Panicking, Stiles flung himself backwards and crashed to the floor which awakened her with a muffled yelp.

"Where am I? Oh god, not again." As she whimpered, she sat up and wrapped her arms around her trembling body.

Stiles scrambled back to his feet, then checked to make sure he didn't have an inadvertent boner before turning on the lamp. He watched her blink in confusion, then redden as she realized where she was.

"What's happening to me?"

Sitting carefully on the edge of the bed and dragging the sheet over his lap, since he was only wearing plaid boxer shorts and a ratty San Francisco Giants t-shirt, Stiles gave her a sympathetic look, but he was as confused as she was.

"This is your room? Your house? How did I get in?" Suspicion flooded her face and her eyebrows drew together. "You didn't kidnap me, did you?"

"No! Jeez. I woke up to find you there. I have no clue how you got here or why you're here." But his eyes drifted down to her side covered by a thin purple nightshirt through which he could see the edges of the bulky bandage covering her bite.

Her eyes followed his and her hand crept to the spot. She looked scared again. "No one will tell me what happened on the playing field. There was...a man. And then...there wasn't. He...it...something..." Making a frustrated noise, she pressed her hands to her temples and took shaking breaths. "I think I remember you yelling my name."

"I was too late."

"Did you see what did this to me? And what would make me come here?"

Huffing at that rather snide question, Stiles replied a bit snippily, "I don't know. I was the one whose bed was invaded." When she gave him a wounded look, he sighed and gentled his tone of voice. "Come on. My dad's on the night shift. I'll take you home."

"You didn't answer my questions," she snapped as she slid from the bed. He ignored her and jerked on jeans and stuffed his feet into old sneakers.

New crises took precedence over Lydia's sleepwalking--and apparently her ability to scale the side of his house and climb through his window which had been open again. There was a murder and a kid he barely knew on the lacrosse team was arrested for killing his dad, and then Stiles found out Derek had turned the kid, Isaac.

The Argent pater familia arrived all glaring and wanting revenge.

Scott wasn't handling the loss of Allison well. He wasn't handling Stiles becoming a werewolf well, either.

Stiles didn't know how to help with either of those things. He thought being a werewolf was magnificent--well, the smelling gross things wasn't all that great but the strength and speed and healing were super--and he couldn't help but mentally kick his previous self for not wanting it.

Though, really, deep inside, he'd always wanted the bite, just not from the rogue Alpha. At the revelation that Peter was the rogue, he hadn't wanted it from him, either, but he was rolling with the punches.

Literally in the first training session with Derek and Isaac. Scott declined to join them because he was being petulant and bitchy.

And that night, Stiles woke around five to find Lydia curled around him, drooling a bit on his shoulder in a really cute way. For several minutes he stared at her, then shook her slightly. She awoke, blinking in confusion, then, eyes widening, pushed herself up to her knees.

"What the fuck is wrong with me?" she hissed.

He was as confused as she was, but it wasn't like he minded. "I don't mind." Lydia glared at him and he shrugged helplessly. "Sorry, really don't."

"Your mouth really doesn't have a filter, does it."

He shrugged again. "You're stuck here till dad leaves at seven. Maybe we can figure it out?"

She huffed and flopped onto her back. "Let me make it perfectly clear that I still love Jackson despite him being a dick to me."

"Okay."

"I remember that I woke up in the hospital and was taking a shower and everything was normal and then...it wasn't. I had like a waking dream or nightmare of mud and leaves and...then you were in my head and...The next thing I remember was you finding me in the forest and it just seemed right." Her head rolled on the pillow as she shook it. "I don't understand. Is it because you were there when I was bitten?"

"I was too late."

"Yeah, so you said, but you didn't say if you saw who did this to me."

"It was a wild animal."

"I said who, Stiles, because I'm not stupid, remember?" she snapped but kept her voice low so as not to awaken his dad.

Stiles sighed and pushed himself up against his headboard, not looking at her. "I probably shouldn't be doing this," he muttered, then braced himself, took a deep breath, exhaled it, and bluntly said, "You were bitten by a werewolf."

He could feel Lydia's shock and slowly pivoted his head to look at her. Then he quickly looked away, flushing, because she'd pulled up her nightgown and was staring at the scabbed bite marks.

"Am I a werewolf then?"

"No. You didn't turn. We don't know why."

"We?" she asked sharply.

He sighed again. "Me, Scott, Derek Hale."

"You're all werewolves? Wait, is that why Scott suddenly became not only excellent at lacrosse but oddly hot?"

Stiles grunted. "Yeah."

"You still suck at lacrosse."

"I just got turned, okay?" Glaring at her in frustration for a moment, he then jerked his head back to staring at the wall across from him. "You were bitten by Peter, the rogue Alpha werewolf. Alphas are the leaders of the packs, but he was a nutcase." His wolf yipped a scold at him for referring to its mate that way, and he silently shushed it. "Derek killed him and became the Alpha. Both Scott and I were bitten by Peter, too, but I've joined Derek's pack because the more, the stronger and safer."

"Why did this Peter bite me?"

"I..." Actually, that wasn't something he'd given any thought to, but... "Maybe because you're important to me. Maybe he was trying to make me happy?" His fingers brushed across the small scars on his wrist, drawing Lydia's attention.

"Yours is healed."

"Werewolves heal really fast."

"Okay, so I was bitten but didn't turn and now I'm sleepwalking into your bed. This is weird, Stiles, right?"

"Seems pretty weird to me. Anything else weird happening to you?" Turning he caught something flicker across her face, but then she shook her head and he didn't pursue it. "Um, I can sleep on the floor."

"Don't be stupid." Now that sounded like the real Lydia. She settled down on the bed next to him and pulled the covers up to her chin.

Slowly, he slid down onto the bed and reached over to turn off the lamp, though no way was he getting anymore sleep. He'd probably drool on her or hump her leg or something.

Great, now he was getting a stiffie...

A couple more days passed. Derek continued to bite damaged teenagers--Stiles was convinced he was trying to fix his own problems from his teenhood by doing it--and Scott continued to whine about Allison's family and refuse to join Derek's pack. Stiles found out he was really fast and surprisingly agile. After a lifetime of falling over his own feet just walking across a room, he could now scale walls, trees, and pretty much anything that needed scaling, walk a narrow beam with no balance problems, and jump off a roof and land on his feet. He wasn't the greatest fighter, but being quick and smart made up for it.

During the school day he kept his eye on Lydia and, to his surprise, often found her watching him as well. They didn't talk, though--too awkward--and four days passed without her showing up in his bed.

In the nights that followed her last appearance he began to have weird dreams about Peter, dreams that were much more detailed than the earlier vague ones. There were dreams of the house fire, so real he could feel the flames and smell the burning flesh, hear the screams. He watched Peter desperately trying to save the children, finally giving up and, on fire, crawling into a tunnel whimpering.

The whimpers reverberated through him, making him ache.

Sometimes he'd dream of happy times. Peter with a pretty blonde woman, a little blonde girl on his lap, as they picnicked and he read her The Velveteen Rabbit. Peter in a suit, the woman in a lacy white dress, kissing in front of their pack as their vows were blessed.

Other dreams were darker. Peter catatonic in the care facility, the madness slowly growing in him as he healed cell by cell. His bursts of freedom.

Killing Laura.

The regret and sorrow and horror over that, which he buried beneath the driving need for revenge.

And then the dreams of Peter with Stiles which were so erotic they forced him to wake, hard and desperately needing to jerk off.

During the day Stiles tried not to think about the dreams, letting them sink back into his subconscious. He tried not to wonder why he was dreaming about a dead man, sometimes dreaming from the eyes of that dead man, as if he was remembering things Peter knew with more detail than anyone had told him.

He didn't want to think about the possible implications.

But the dreams that did linger were the ones that involved Lydia. They were no longer his pre-werewolf dreams of dates and kisses and even hazy sex with her. In these, she was vivid and strong, and always naked. She'd climb on top of him and ride him until they were both panting and sweating, and just as he'd come, he'd look up into her eyes.

And they were red.

After those dreams he didn't need to jerk off because he always came in his sleep like he was thirteen all over again.

So, when he woke one night in Lydia's bed to find her watching him, her fingers stroking down his cheek, he didn't question. He wrapped one arm around her waist and pulled her towards him, then closed his eyes and sank back into sleep.

He hadn't slept so well since his mother's death.

When he awoke again it was early morning and he could hear Lydia in the shower in the adjoining bathroom, her hands slipping over her soapy wet skin. As he blushed and turned off his enhanced hearing, an image flitted through his mind--Peter wet beneath the shower spray. Stiles' soapy hands caressing his back.

Swallowing hard, Stiles shook that thought away and slipped out the window to head home.

"Okay, something weird is going on."

From where he was seated on one of the broken seats on the broken train car, Derek just looked at him. "We spent two hours last night in a pool after I was paralyzed by a giant lizard."

"Yeah, okay, two things weird, or probably more. Definitely more." As he babbled, Stiles sat across from Derek and propped one leg up on the seat, wrapping a hand around his knee. "But, I need to figure this one out because dad's going to walk in on us, or her parents will, and then we'll be in deep shit."

"Stiles."

The growl stopped his mouth, which, truthfully, didn't run as wild anymore. Apparently wolfiness cured ADHD along with epilepsy, asthma, and overwhelming shyness--though he was still trying to figure out what it had cured in Boyd. Taking a deep breath, he righted his thoughts and tried to explain. "Lydia's been sleepwalking into my bed and then a couple nights ago I did the same to hers."

"Isn't that your wildest dream come true?"

Stiles nearly snorted at Derek's constipated look. "Yeah, but, no. I've been having weird dreams, too. Like dreams from Peter's point of view."

That caught Derek's attention and he leaned forward. "Like what?"

"The fire. Peter watching his family burn. His wife and daughter. Her name was Gracie, right?"

Derek's eyes widened in shock and he whispered, "How did you know that?"

"Because they're Peter's memories. How the hell did he infect me with them?"

"I don't know. I've never heard about anything like that."

"Lydia's sometimes in the dreams, too. I think it has something to do with the sleepwalking. I've tried to get her to tell me if she's having weird dreams but she avoids the subject and distracts me with her lips or her hair or her boobs. They're really great, y'know. Oh, also I told her about werewolves."

"Stiles!"

"Hey, she was bitten and freaking out! I just gave her the basics. Didn't even mention your new puppies."

"Don't call them that."

"All three of them are out there on a mattress curled in a big pile snoring."

Derek sighed. "I had hoped the bite would make you less prone to babbling and annoying me."

Stiles grinned and spread his arms wide. "You love me and you know it."

"I can throw you into a couple walls to show how much."

"Gotta catch me first."

Shaking his head in frustration, Derek growled Stiles into as much submission as the Beta wolf ever submitted.

"Okay, seriously, I need to know what's going on. Peter's dead. He's dead; you're the Alpha. We didn't er consummate the mating thing and everything I've read says that death ends it anyway, consummated or not."

"You really shouldn't trust the internet, but, yes as far as I know. Peter's bond with Marta, his wife, broke with her death or he wouldn't have been able to claim you. Werewolves mate for life."

"But, it's not just instinct or a mate at first sight thing, right? The bite plays a part or you'd be mated to Kate."

Derek gave him a disgruntled scowl, but nodded. "The bite seals it. I was too young to take that step. My parents would have killed me. And I'm not certain Kate was my mate anyway. It's not like werewolves can't have sex without being mated. And the claim can be with a human, it's just rare, so I was confused a lot about how I felt towards her." He frowned even deeper, as if realizing he'd shared more with Stiles than he normally would.

Stiles wasn't surprised. He seemed to be able to get his new Alpha to open up more, even to do things. Something to be addressed later...or never. "So, since Peter bit me, if he hadn't died, I'd be mated to him for life, even though I wasn't a werewolf yet?" Stiles made a face. "He didn't tell me what he was doing."

"But you consented."

"Yeah, because apparently I leap before I think. And, yeah, I can see that 'no shit' look in your eyes, sourwolf. Okay, okay. Does the claim have to be, you know, set by sex or something."

"No, but there's really no point in claiming a mate if there's no sex involved. Usually it's between a couple in love who want to make the relationship permanent when they both just reach that point. If a wolf feels that bond with a stranger, wolf or human, they usually take their time to fall in love before the bite so that, while the initial instinct to claim was one-sided, it rarely is by the time of the bite. Biting without love can happen though, as you know, but I've never known of any mated couples who started that way. There have been instances of wolves claiming and biting humans they barely know, but humans can't feel the bond, which is why they're almost always turned. If Peter had survived, your wolf would have submitted to its Alpha and you'd have been his in every way whenever he wanted. There's no going back. There's no stopping it, and our wolves will push us to physically mate once a claiming bond is set. The bite to initiate it has to be consensual, though, which is why you were an idiot."

Stiles grunted in annoyance and Derek snorted back at him.

"Is it a mutual biting if they're in love?"

"Usually, if they're the same level in pack hierarchy, but an Alpha will always initiate, even if their mate never bites back, and a claimed human can't bite at all and, once turned, will be subordinate to its mate simply due to the other being a wolf longer."

"You know, you could have told us all this months ago."

"Like I thought you'd be stupid enough to accept a bite from the rogue Alpha? And on the wrist?"

"Oh, yeah, I wondered if placement had something to do with it."

"Turning bites are on the stomach, thigh or neck, never the wrist unless..."

"Claiming." Stiles sighed and lightly banged his head back against the window for some clarity. "So, if Peter hadn't died, I'd be screwed, literally." A horrific thought came to him and he blurted out, "Oh god, mpreg isn't a real thing is it?"

"What?"

"Male pregnancy!"

Rolling his eyes, Derek rose to his feet and started stomping down the aisle. "With that completely stupid and obviously fictional idea, this conversation is over. Isaac, Erica, Boyd, wake your asses up," he yelled.

A bit queasy, Stiles followed him out of the train car to join in a training session that mostly was Derek tossing his Betas around with little effort.

Stiles was secretly proud that Derek actually broke into a sweat knocking him aside with a lot more trouble. Maybe someday Stiles would actually win.

Another two weeks passed, every third or fourth night finding Stiles in Lydia's bed or vice versa. It was becoming comfortable and neither one really questioned it anymore. Usually they woke in each others arms, legs tangled, and faces close on the pillows. Stiles wasn't even embarrassed by his morning erections after the first few times and Lydia completely ignoring them.

But, they didn't talk much about it, and while the nights they spent together were dreamless for Stiles, his dreams and nightmares grew more intense on the nights he spent alone. Going by the circles under Lydia's eyes, he knew she wasn't sleeping well without him either, but when he'd ask her if she was dreaming, she always told him she couldn't remember what they were about outside of Peter biting her.

A few strange things happened with her during the waking hours, too. Weird messages in her hand on the chalkboard, her seeming to be listening to someone who wasn't there, and one night he woke to find her crawling into his bed with dirty feet and smelling of the forest. While her feet were often dirty from walking the six blocks, she'd never taken the long way round through the forest to get leaf mold stuck between her toes. She wouldn't tell him why she'd gone into the forest, but there had been a flash of fear in her eyes when she looked at her dirty feet.

During the waking hours, though, Stiles was too busy dealing with the whole Jackson as the Kanima issue, trying to figure out who his Master was, trying to keep Derek from killing him, trying to keep under the Argents' radar--despite Derek's dire predictions, they didn't seem to have figured out he was a werewolf and Allison swore she wouldn't tell them--and making first line.

And then he cost his dad his job, and Stiles felt like a complete failure.

Before he could even deal with that, Derek bit Allison's mom when she tried to kill Scott and everything was up in the air. Stiles had no clue how to deal with his dad or Derek or anything. He'd always thought becoming a werewolf would make everything clear, but life was still just a shitty mess.

Even playing first line didn't make him happy anymore, nor did Lydia and their weird sleeping relationship.

But, his first full moon as a werewolf was the next night and while he was pissed he'd have to miss the first of Lydia's birthday parties he'd actually been invited to, he knew he should spend it with the pack. While he seemed to have control over his wolf, he wasn't willing to risk his dad, even if his dad wasn't speaking to him.

A part of him desperately wanted to tell him the truth, but his wolf needed to protect his human father from everything that might hurt or worry him, so Stiles was torn and just remained silent.

Chained at the front of the train car, Stiles watched as Erica and Boyd fought their bonds, as they broke free and attacked Derek, as Isaac flung himself through one of the windows.

The wolf inside him wanted to follow, to run free, but he remained in his seat, not even pulling at the chains. The cuff on his right wrist rubbed against the scar, sending odd tingles up his arm. Glancing down, he saw his nails turn into claws, and felt the shift come, but he still felt at peace. The moon's power washed over him, but didn't turn him mad like the others.

He could break free, go help Derek, but then Isaac was back, pinning down Boyd, in control and all Stiles had to do was sit there and feel powerful yet content. He wondered if this was how Derek felt, though the Alpha hadn't shifted under the moon. Maybe being a born wolf was different. Of course, he'd also had his whole life, twelve times a year to get used to the full moon.

It was the worm moon this month. Lydia had told him that before telling him she'd miss him at the party.

Where had she learned that?

Stiles mentally shrugged. The girl was brilliant, full of esoteric knowledge. He really shouldn't be surprised.

The other three Betas were chained down again, calmer this time as Isaac's control seemed to infect them. Bleeding from several healing scratches, Derek crouched down in front of Stiles.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm not the one who was mauled, dude."

Derek almost smiled at that. "I'd never have guessed you'd be the one with natural control."

Grinning and showing fangs, Stiles replied, "I'm awesome, you should have figured that out by now."

"Yeah. Try to get some sleep. I don't think you'll need the chains next month but let's keep them on tonight to be on the safe side."

"You need real beds, Derek," he replied as he tried to get comfortable on the hard bench and heard Derek snort as he left the train car.

He had just closed his eyes for a minute when he heard a thud outside and then a dragging sound. Gold eyes flashing back open, Stiles sat up straight and leaned towards the other side of the car. He couldn't see anything, but a scent came to him that made him choke.

Wolfsbane, just a hint, not enough to effect him, but there was wolfsbane out there. Straining at the chains, he opened his mouth to call for Derek, but then closed it. He didn't want to alert the other three Betas who had drifted off to sleep. As quietly as he could, he broke the chains and rose on silent feet. Isaac opened his eyes, but Stiles only smiled at him and shushed him, and the other wolf went back to sleep.

Stiles left the train and followed a trail of purple dust and drag marks out of the warehouse and into the alley. The trail vanished, but there were signs of a car having been parked there. Lifting his nose in the air, he caught a faint of the wolfsbane and his Alpha, and loped down the alley towards the Preserve.

Stiles realized where he was headed about the time he stumbled over the car a few hundred yards from the Hale House. Overhead, the moon was full and huge. The air smelled of newly growing things and the hint of char that always surrounded the ruined house. It felt strange, though, as if there was a low charge electrical current stirring. Shifting back to human, Stiles silently approached the house. Derek's scent was stronger and it mingled with someone else familiar. The wolfsbane had blocked it earlier, but now he recognized it.

Lydia.

Frowning, he made his way up the steps, avoiding the one that creaked, and slipped inside the open door.

The first thing he saw was Derek sprawled on the floor on his back, blood dripping from one arm.

The second was Lydia, kneeling next to him, gasping for breath and shaking from head to foot.

Both were fixated on a third person rising from a hole in the floor, covered in dirt and smelling like decay.

Stiles' breath caught in his throat as the figure spoke.

"I heard there was a party." He lifted his head, his eyes glinting with anger and amusement. "Don't worry. I invited myself." His lips twisted into a nasty smirk and then his eyes flashed red and locked onto Stiles'. "There you are."

Peter.

Oh fuck no.

Stiles stumbled back against the wall, choking on the air and the fear flooding him. Lydia and Derek slipped away from his focus as Peter filled it. Before he could blink, the resurrected Alpha was in front of him, gripping his right wrist, caressing the scars. Warmth shot through him but he was still scared. So damn scared. He licked his lips unconsciously and flinched as Peter focused on them.

"We have unfinished business, Stiles." His voice deepened to a growl that made Stiles want to cower. "Go home. I'll be there soon."

"N-no."

Peter smirked again and his grip tightened. "Listen to your wolf, Stiles. He won't let you deny me."

"I'm more than my wolf."

"Such bravado. In the end, so useless." As he spoke, he lifted Stiles' wrist to his mouth and placed a kiss on it.

It felt like fire and Stiles heard his wolf, closer than it had ever been to the surface, whimper in pleasure. A physical reaction went through his body, weakening his knees, making him want to touch Peter, and he fought it, finally pulling away but only because the Alpha let him.

"Go," he murmured and the order drove Stiles out the door. He was half way home before he realized it, but he didn't stop until he was in his room, slamming the door behind him and slumping against it, panting and shaking.

"This isn't happening. This isn't happening," he repeated over and over, finally sliding to the floor and burying his face in his knees.

He didn't want to face it, but he knew what was coming. Stiles wasn't an idiot. Peter hadn't just chosen him randomly. At first sight, his wolf had cried mate and driven him to claim Stiles. Because Peter was Peter--crazy, rogue Alpha--he hadn't even tried to fight it, and if he hadn't died a month ago, this would have happened then, that night he finally attained vengeance for his family. Would he have come to Stiles still covered in Kate's blood? A shudder went through him and he whimpered into his knees. In his discussions with Derek both had consciously avoided the subject of one party in the bond being unwilling. Consent for the claiming bite had to be given and, apparently, coerced consent still counted. Peter wasn't going to give Stiles time to adjust, to get used to him, to know him.

And Stiles' wolf already had or didn't need more. With Peter's first touch, Stiles' wolf had growled in pleasure and need and joy because its mate was alive and wanting him. He was going to lose his virginity tonight, but, to his wolf, that didn't even matter because he was already Peter Hale's mate until one of them died. The sex was just the natural result of the mating bond that had existed for a month and he knew, unlike the bite, it didn't have to be consensual. What Stiles was forced to do tonight he'd have to do over and over again for the rest of his life.

Oh fuck, he didn't want it. Peter scared the shit out of him and...oh fuck, Stiles had helped kill him. He had to be pissed about that. Would he...hurt him?

His wolf whined softly, trying to bring him acceptance and the need to submit, but Stiles was too scared and just shook and whimpered until a hand brushed over the top of his head, stilling him. He didn't breathe until the hand slipped away.

"I'm going to shower off the dirt and death and then we'll get to know each other much better," Peter said conversationally, and Stiles felt the shift in the air as he rose and padded towards the bathroom. He listened as the shower came on, as water hit skin. Smelled dirt washing away, replaced with the clean scent of Irish Spring.

And then the water turned off and a towel was rubbed over skin and hair and Stiles had to move, get out, run and run and run...

The window closed and he jerked his head up to see Peter pulling the curtains before turning to smile at him. He had the towel around his waist and Stiles took a breath, smelling only soap and clean skin.

The decay was gone.

"How are you alive?" He had to know before they did this.

"Derek couldn't bring himself to bisect me. Did you know that?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Too sentimental, too guilty, he buried me beneath the house, but before he did, as I was dying, I reached out for a connection. You were a wolf already and I needed a human. By pure luck I had one. Immunity to the bite is so very rare."

Stiles' eyes widened in shock. "Lydia?"

"I placed a bit of myself in her, haunted her dreams, both sleeping and waking, guided her to what I needed her to do to bring me back. I wasn't truly dead. Werewolves will heal from anything but being cut in half or complete cremation." His eyes hardened and he frowned. "And you weren't successful at that. Really, Stiles, fire? I should be so angry at you for that, for making me feel that agony again."

Peter stalked towards him and Stiles pushed himself up the door until he was standing on shaky legs.

"Is Lydia okay now?" He was still more worried about her than himself. It was his true curse--his need to put everyone he cared about before his own safety.

"She should be fine. I'm all me again." His hands slapped against the door on either side of Stiles' head and he leaned forward until Stiles pressed his head back, trying to make himself slide through the molecules of the wood. "Oh so ready to claim my mate."

"Why...why didn't you tell me?"

"I wasn't sure you didn't know. You are the smart one of the bunch, after all. But, also, because you might have balked, and I couldn't have that, Stiles."

Feeling unwanted tears sting the corners of his eyes, Stiles asked, "But, why me?" even though he knew it wasn't a choice.

"We have the rest of our lives for me to tell you the million reasons why I want you. Right now, I need to show you." One hand moved to cup Stiles' jaw, fingers caressing the shivering skin. "You're afraid, but you don't need to be. I won't hurt you. I can't hurt you. My wolf would never let me. It wants you so badly, and your wolf wants me. Give into your instincts, Stiles," Peter murmured as he leaned forward to press a soft kiss to Stiles' lips.

"I don't want...I don't..." A couple tears spilled free and Peter licked them away before kissing him again, this time deeper, forcing his lips to part and accept him.

His wolf howled in pleasure and need and Stiles felt an answering spark in his body. He didn't want this. He really didn't. But, despite the denial and repulsion his mind was screaming, his body was falling under control of his wolf.

Maybe...maybe it would just be easier...

A thought intruded, and he broke the kiss to gasp out, "My dad."

"Is probably busy dealing with a large number of inebriated and stoned teenagers. I doubt he'll be home before dawn, and I'll hear him coming. That gives us plenty of time," Peter murmured against Stiles' throat before pressing a heated kiss to his quivering Adam's apple as his hands found the younger man's hips and pressed him harder to the door.

"I'll...I'll fight you."

Peter chuckled. "No you won't. Your wolf is howling at you to submit to its mate. Our consummation's been long delayed, Stiles. Your wolf won't let it go much longer. Give in."

"Fuck you." He started to struggle, despite his wolf's howling frustration.

"I love your bravado, but I'm going to win here."

Stiles caught a flash of red eyes, felt claws dig into his hips, and his wolf whined.

"Submit," Peter ordered, his voice deepened by the Alpha wolf coming out of him, and Stiles quivered and instinctively bared his throat, the hands that had been pushing at Peter, stilling on his bare back, and he whined vocally. "Good boy." Fangs scraped lightly over his throat and then retreated, replaced by human teeth that worried the skin as lips suckled, and Stiles felt a heat flood him that he'd never felt with another person before.

Before he knew it, his shirts were gone and Peter was kissing him again. Stiles didn't want to respond, but he was caught up in something he didn't understand. The wolf he'd been able to control so easily since turning was taking over because it understood what the human refused to.

Peter was his Alpha, his mate, his forever.

With a sob, Stiles began to return the kiss and didn't do anything to try to stop Peter from stripping the rest of his clothes from him or bringing them both to the bed.

When the kissing stopped long enough for him to catch his breath, he opened his eyes to find Peter naked and propped on his side, one leg curled over Stiles' knees, one hand moving over the younger man's chest and trembling stomach.

"You are so lovely."

Stiles blushed uncontrollably, then flinched as Peter's hand wrapped around his cock. The kissing and touching had brought him to the first stages of physical arousal. Skilled fingers made his cock harden more.

"I don't want this," he managed to whisper, even though he felt paralyzed by a mixture of fear and desire and a lot of instinct that he didn't understand.

Not replying, Peter leaned down to flick his tongue over one nipple, and Stiles gasped in surprise at how good it felt. As he continued to lick and kiss, the Alpha's eyes slid upwards to meet Stiles' and a dark smile creased his face. "A part of you does. You need to let go completely. This was meant to be."

"I never wanted it!"

Peter chuckled and nipped at Stiles' stomach. "You didn't want the bite either, and now look at you. So magnificent. I knew you would be the perfect Alpha Mate." His fingers moved faster along Stiles' cock, aided by the precum that had begun to leak from him.

Stiles began to gasp in pleasure. He didn't want it, but he seemed to be helpless to stop it. A part of him still wanted to fight, to hit out, kick out, but he couldn't. The wolf had him now, and it was easier, because he wasn't stupid and he knew that even if he fought Peter to the end, all that would mean was he'd be forcibly raped.

It was still rape. It was. He didn't want it.

Tears stung his eyes and he flung an arm over them to keep them in as his hips bucked uncontrollably and groans of pleasure broke from his tight throat.

Just as he was about to come, Peter's hand stopped, tightening around the base of his cock, and Stiles whined before he could stop himself.

"In time, Stiles," Peter crooned softly into his ear, his other hand prying Stiles' arm away from his face. "I want you to come when I'm inside you. It'll be amazing for both of us." His eyes flashed red again and he ordered, "Don't come," and released his cock.

Stiles tried to disobey, his body shaking in need, but, at his Alpha's order, he couldn't come. Fear flooded him. What if Peter never let him..."

"No, no, love, I'm not that cruel, I promise. Just hold on and it'll be so good." As he spoke, his hands found Stiles' shoulders and began to turn him. "This'll be easier for you on your knees."

Panting for air, feeling hot all over, Stiles let his body be maneuvered to its knees and elbows, and, after a deep, short kiss, his head lowered to his crossed arms. Closing his eyes and trying to breathe through the pleasure and the ever present fear, he heard Peter fumbling in his night stand drawer, then felt a slick finger slide between his ass cheeks. He flinched away, but Peter's other hand took his hip, holding him still. With a push the finger popped through the tight muscles. It stung and Stiles hissed, but a glance down showed his cock was still hard and very interested.

Peter was crooning probably soothing words against his back, but Stiles tuned him out, breathing deeply as the finger probed at him, and then was joined by a second. His wolf slipped out, growling in pain and pleasure, and he heard Peter's chuckle of pride. "Yes, your wolf knows. Your wolf wants this." The fingers pushed and pulled and began to spread, and Stiles whimpered and dug his fingers into the sheets. As a third finger pushed in, his claws popped out, tearing at the bedding. It hurt. "You're taking my fingers like a champ. So beautiful."

Lips brushed over his lower back and he arched into the touch, unable to stop himself, and the pain eased as more lube was pushed into him. Another glance showed him that his cock still hadn't diminished. The pain wasn't making his hard on go away. His wolf wanted this too damn much.

But, he wasn't all his wolf and the human was scared. Stiles sniffled into his arms and squeezed his eyes shut and just prayed this would end soon. He was getting to the point that he didn't even care if his body was prepped enough. He wanted it over.

The bed shifted behind him and his legs were pushed further apart. As the fingers slipped from him, he felt Peter press his hips against his ass, and he took a deep, shuddering breath. Something much broader than the three fingers pressed against his loosened entrance, and he tried to squirm forward, away, but Peter held him tightly, the claws again pressing into his hips, and then he was breached, and a howl broke from him.

It hurt even more. Jesus! Stiles squirmed and kicked his feet and wanted away, but Peter just pushed deeper and deeper, spreading him open despite his body not wanting to give way, until his pelvis was flush against his trembling ass.

Stiles panted harshly and finally begged, "Please...please...just..." Do it. End it. Stop.

Except when Peter pulled back and thrust carefully back in, the head of his cock brushed what Stiles knew to be his prostate and stars burst behind his eyes. Intense pleasure choked him and his cock throbbed.

"Oh, Stiles," Peter panted, and Stiles started listening to him. The Alpha, his Alpha, was breathing hard, groaning with every thrust, and the wolf inside Stiles felt suddenly powerful. Widening his senses, he felt Peter shivering, his fingers trembling against his skin. He heard the slap of skin on skin, wet with lube and sweat, and he realized he was sweating, too, and that his cock was throbbing even harder. A glance down showed precum dripping onto the bed and, even farther down, Peter's knees between his legs, shaking.

Both of them were shaking.

God, he needed to come. Propping himself on one elbow, he slid his other arm down, his hand reaching for his cock, only to find it joined by one of Peter's and they both jerked him off hard and fast. Unable to prevent himself from responding any longer, too caught up in the sudden lust, Stiles realized his hips were moving with Peter's, and it no longer hurt. He felt full inside, hot and wet and needy, and his control shattered.

"Come for me," Peter growled, and Stiles' wolf howled and erupted into a violent orgasm. As he shuddered and mewled, he barely felt Peter come with hard thrusts of their hips together. His howl joined his mate's as they collapsed together.

What seemed like hours later, but was only a few minutes, Stiles came back to himself to find his shivering body laying in a wet spot, held down by his mate.

His mate. Yeah, he couldn't deny it. His heart sank into his chest, and he wanted to fight all this off, but it was hopeless.

"You're over thinking." As Peter whispered into his ear, he shifted his hips and Stiles felt his softened cock slip from him with a gush of slippery fluid and a new punch of pain that made him hiss. Stiles tried to move away, but he was exhausted and aching and just buried his face in his pillow, wanting to scream, but his wolf, his damn wolf, was so happy.

He felt Peter kiss his shoulder, then the bed shift as he rose to pad into the bathroom. Not wanting to be surprised by anything, but not able to look at the Alpha wolf, Stiles listened as Peter washed himself, then returned to sit next to him. A warm, wet cloth slid over his lower back and then between his ass cheeks, cleaning him. It hurt, the soap stinging, but he could feel himself already healing.

"You didn't tear, and the bruises are fading. The impressions of my fingers look lovely on you. I'm almost sorry they won't stay as evidence of our joining."

"Yeah, not sorry here," Stiles grunted into the pillow, wincing as Peter continued to clean him.

"I'm pretty sure there's nothing you can say right now that'll piss me off."

"Great." A light slap on one butt cheek made him gasp. "Jesus. And I'm laying in the wet spot. Just perfect."

Laughing, Peter rose again, then reached down and lifted Stiles around the waist and off the bed. He flailed, kicking, but found himself on his feet, swaying, tired and sore and not happy. "Get some clean sheets. I want you smelling of me, but they're getting crusty."

Stiles glared at him and limped with a lot of exaggeration into the hall to the linen closet. The pain had faded quickly to a dull ache and while his body was relaxed from orgasm, he felt different, too. Sated in ways he'd never felt before.

His wolf huffed in sleepy pleasure, and Stiles yawned as well as he returned with clean sheets. Peter had stripped the wet and soiled ones and helped him fit on the new ones, then dragged Stiles down to the mattress, manhandling him onto his side facing the wall and tugging the blankets over them.

"I always sleep on the window side," Stiles grunted petulantly.

"The Alpha protects his own," Peter replied, wrapping one arm around Stiles' waist and pulling their bodies together.

Too tired to protest any more or pull away, Stiles closed his eyes and tried to even out his breathing so he could sleep.

Maybe in the morning he'd feel like fighting this.

But...instinctively, he knew it was pointless. His wolf had always belonged to its Alpha mate and even his human side was beginning to accept it.

He wasn't sure how he was going to deal with all this, but he didn't have the energy to try to figure it out tonight or to have a nervous breakdown. Tomorrow would be soon enough.

A strident--but feminine--voice drew Stiles from a dreamless sleep and he mumbled and rolled over half onto something soft and curved.

A deep and angry growl jerked him fully awake and his brain tried to process what he'd heard.

Lydia yelling, "What the fuck, Stiles?"

And Peter growling, probably wolfed out, "Stiles, wake up and explain why Lydia is in our bed."

"Urk."

Blinking sleep-crusted eyes open, he realized that, one, it was still dark enough to mean it wasn't dawn yet; two, Lydia was curled up tight against him on the wall side of the bed--which meant she had to crawl over both them while sleep walking--and she was also glaring at him with her arms crossed over her breasts--breasts he couldn't help noticing were barely covered by something pink and lacy; and, three, Peter was wolfed out and his fangs were practically dripping as he leaned over Stiles and growled at Lydia.

Who, to her credit, didn't back down at all.

Both of them were sitting and Stiles tried to sit, too, but Peter, with one clawed hand, shoved him back down. Wincing as the claws pricked his chest, Stiles fell into immediate and annoying submission.

He didn't whine though, really.

"Um...Don't kill her!"

"I should have noticed her scent here, all over this room and this bed, but I was too consumed by you." Peter's voice rose menacingly and his hand pressed down harder until Stiles could barely breathe.

"Air," he choked out, batting at the hand holding him, but then he watched in amazement as Lydia grabbed Peter's wrist and jerked it up.

As Stiles panted for air, Lydia snapped, "Leave him alone. What are you even doing here? And, God, it reeks like sex. You're old enough to be his father!"

Peter easily pulled free of her and, thankfully, his features and claws retreated to human as he ordered, his voice clipped and still very angry, "Explain, Stiles, now."

"Lydia's been sleep walking into my bed and a few times I've gone to hers, and nothing has happened," he stressed quickly as Peter's eyes flickered red. "I swear, not even kissing. Inadvertent boners only. Oh God, don't kill us!"

"Shut up now."

With a loud clack of his teeth, Stiles shut up and carefully watched Peter for any sign that he was going to lose it completely.

Instead, he frowned and seemed to be thinking.

Apparently, so was Lydia. "This is your fault. It all makes sense now. You put a part of your creepy self into me and that's what drew me to Stiles. He told me he would have been your mate--and God is that just wrong in a hundred different ways--if you hadn't died. But, you didn't die, did you. You stayed alive in me. All the dreams and the weird shit, young you, they were all because you really were there." Her eyes narrowed and then she looked down at Stiles and cocked her head.

Peter cocked his head like that sometimes. Oh shit...

"Yes, but I shouldn't be there now. This must be a residual effect."

As he no longer seemed angry but was more intrigued, Stiles allowed himself a soft sigh of relief, then, it finally hit him that he was naked and Lydia was under the blankets pressed against him and, he turned red.

Peter snorted. Lydia frowned deeper. Stiles felt like curling into a ball and disappearing.

Everything from the night before came back like a whirlwind and the next thing he knew he was having a panic attack. Lydia's frown had turned to concern and Peter was lifting him onto his lap, stroking him gently and urging him to breathe. Over the ringing in his ears and his own gasping for air, he could hear Lydia's harsh accusations.

"You hurt him, didn't you. He was a virgin. You're the big bad wolf and you knew that and you hurt him and now you're scaring the Hell out of him. Jesus, he doesn't want you! You're a psychopath!"

"I didn't hurt him," Peter ground back through clenched teeth, his hands continuing to stroke over the trembling muscles of Stiles' back, and it was calming him because the wolf inside him was being gentled and it wanted its Alpha so badly. "I could never hurt him. He's mine. The first time I saw him, so scared, yet so brave and defiant as well, I knew I had to have him. He's my mate. It's rare for it to hit like that. Usually it's a discovery between lovers, but it's not unheard of, especially for an Alpha, and the Alpha in me knew at one glance. It nearly knocked me off my feet. Do you really think that I wanted a teenage boy, the Sheriff's son, as my mate?"

Stiles whimpered uncontrollably at the odd pain Peter's words caused him, but he was finally able to breathe.

"Stop that, Stiles." Peter's voice softened, his hands moved to cup the young man's pale cheeks. "Don't get indignant that, initially, I didn't want you because you don't want me either."

"So you raped him," Lydia declared flatly.

"I may owe you my life, little girl, but watch your mouth."

A strained silence fell, broken only by Stiles' harsh breaths, until he was under control again and embarrassment returned. He was sitting in Peter's lap and the blanket was around his knees, meaning his ass was bare to the world and Lydia. Scrabbling for cover, he ignored Peter's amused chuckle and Lydia's eye rolling.

"We need to figure out why you're still infecting Lydia."

Peter huffed. "I suppose we must." He glanced out the window, then slid from the bed, reaching for a duffle bag that sat on the desk chair that Stiles hadn't even noticed. "Dawn is only an hour away. Get dressed. We'll go to IHOP and have a long chat." He casually started to dress.

Stiles jerked his eyes away from Peter's naked body and ended up staring at the lace barely covering Lydia's breasts. She huffed in annoyance and climbed over the end of the bed to dig in his dresser for some of the clothes she'd taken to leaving there.

"Stiles, get up. I need coffee to deal with any more of this, and it's not like you have anything I haven't seen."

He was half way dressed in jeans and a Star Wars t-shirt before he realized how easily he'd obeyed her order. Swallowing hard, he glanced at Peter who stood by the window fully clothed in dark gray trousers, a burgundy shirt and a leather coat and watching him closely. Nearly tripping over his feet, he dove in his closet for a navy hoodie and then stuffed his feet into his shoes.

Lydia led the way out the door, somehow looking impeccable in leggings and a tunic thing, even without makeup and after barely running a brush through her hair.

Peter followed, in stalking mode.

And Stiles trailed behind wondering how this was his life.

The IHOP was mostly empty--a few people coming off the night shift, a few night owls, one of the two local hookers--and Peter took them to a corner booth, crowding Stiles into one side with his hip and gesturing for Lydia to take the other. After receiving coffee and ordering--huge platters of pancakes, sausage and eggs for the two werewolves, a fruit plate and bagel for Lydia--she was the one to break the silence.

"Do you think it'll fade?"

Peter shrugged. "You've been drawn to Stiles since I bit you?" At her nod, he continued. "The part of me inside you saw him as your mate, but, you're human with no understanding of any of that, so you kept it platonic." His eyes darkened. "Lucky for you."

"Don't threaten me," she snarled, then added another sweetener to her coffee and took a sip. "None of this was my choice. None of it was really Stiles' either. He told me how you threatened his dad, seduced him into believing he could stop you."

"He did stop me." Peter smirked. "For a while."

"Can we not talk about me like I'm not here?" Leaning on one elbow, Stiles cupped his cheek in his hand and yawned, annoyed and a bit scared, and tired.

Even though he'd slept as well as he only had recently with Lydia.

"Don't be petulant, darling."

"Don't call me darling."

"Stiles, you can bicker with him all you want later. In fact, I encourage it. But, I need to get him out of my life and my brain."

Giving her a chagrined look, he mumbled, "Sorry. Yeah."

"I should be out. Be completely honest with me, Lydia. Look at Stiles and tell me what you feel?"

Her eyes locked on him with a laser focus and Stiles felt himself flushing. A dozen emotions crossed her face, then she pursed her lips and turned her attention back to Peter. "I want him."

Stiles choked on his coffee, nearly spewing it across the table.

"That's too bad for you," Peter snidely replied, "Because he can't want you. When I was technically dead he may have been able to be aroused by others, but now that I'm alive, he's mine alone."

"Are you so sure about?" Her shrewd eyes turned back to Stiles and then she reached across the table and drew one soft finger across his wrist, across the spot where the bite had scarred.

Arousal hit him and Stiles drew in a shaky breath. He was half hard.

"Impossible," Peter hissed, his eyes flashing red.

"Calm down," Lydia snapped, removing her finger. "Either a part of you is still in me or something in me has changed, become like you enough that Stiles sees me in a similar way as he sees you. I'll hypothesize that your possession and your bite changed me on a genetic level. I didn't turn into a werewolf. I didn't turn into that lizard thing Jackson's become. I'm something else, and Stiles sees you in me, he sees his mate, but he's not gay, so he'll want me more than you."

Oh, that pissed off Peter. He was seething beside Stiles, his whole body tense, and his claws just starting to emerge, when Stiles place a careful hand on his thigh and calmed him with one touch.

"That's not quite true, Lydia. I...I've known for a couple years that I like guys as well as girls."

"Okay, but my point remains. You still want me."

"Um..." Unable to look at her, his cheeks flaming again, he turned his eyes to Peter and read only a hard, blank look on his face. "Yeah. I'm still...yeah. That hasn't gone away."

His wolf whined in confusion and Stiles felt like joining it.

"I won't accept your hypothesis without proof. Stiles is my mate, not yours."

"I didn't say he wasn't yours. I find it very creepy, but he's not cringing away from you, he doesn't seem scared of you, so I'm guessing you didn't treat him like crap his first time."

Stiles was saved from protesting by the arrival of their food and, after coating his pancakes with blueberry syrup, he dug in, trying to ignore the other two at the table who, between bites, continued to discuss him and his sex life like he wasn't there.

When they were left with only suppositions, the subject changed, and Stiles tuned back in.

"Okay, so how did I get you out of me and into your corpse?"

Surprised, Stiles was the one to answer her. "You don't remember?"

"What is the last thing you remember, Lydia?"

Her brow furrowed and her nose wrinkled and Stiles wanted to kiss it. Hoping Peter didn't notice, he took another big bite of sausage, chewing like a chipmunk.

"I...I was talking to Allison about the dresses I was going to change into during the party. And then...I don't know. I remember seeing you rising from that hole. I remember Stiles was there. Then I was back at home and the place was a mess and I decided to ignore it and went to bed. I couldn't remember why I was so tired, but I knew it had something to do with your possession. For the first time I knew for a fact that I was possessed, not crazy or hallucinating. You were real." She glowered at Peter.

He sipped his coffee. "It was the night of the worm moon, the moon of rebirth. Years ago I learned a very powerful spell and I used you to implement it. You drugged Derek for me and brought him to the house. You dug up my grave and used the blood of my killer, the moon, and my own desire to live, to bring me back."

Derek. Stiles had pretty much forgotten about Derek. As Lydia was mulling over what Peter told her, he asked, "Is Derek okay?"

"He's fine. He's brooding at Deaton's."

"Is he still an Alpha?" Stiles carefully broached the delicate subject.

"No. He never should have been. My mother birthed two potential Alphas, my sister and I. At our father's death, the power went to Rebecca and I was fine with being her second. I never wanted the power, not then, but I had the potential. While any Beta can become an Alpha through killing, only those born with the potential can truly handle the power. Bitten wolves who become Alphas are why we have Hunters. They lose control too easily, kill too easily, and lose themselves in the process. Derek was a born Beta. He was never meant for the Alpha power or position. It would have driven him mad as well, though more slowly than a bitten wolf." He sipped his coffee again and took a last bite of eggs, savoring them. "I've missed the taste of, well, everything."

"So, what happens to Derek now?" Stiles drew Peter back to the topic at hand.

"He is mine again, my Beta, my second if he'll accept. His Betas, those confused teenagers, are mine as well. If he accepts, they will as well. Scott's the problem because he's been Omega for so long, refusing me, refusing Derek." Peter sighed. "I really should have bitten you that night in the woods."

Stiles ignored that and gestured to Lydia with his fork. "So what about Lydia?"

"She's immune, it's extremely rare, and maybe her DNA has changed. I have no issue with the two of your exploring that. I have an issue with you wanting her."

At his mate's cold tone, his wolf cringed. Stiles held his ground. "Not either of our faults."

Peter shrugged and pushed his empty plate away as he leaned back in the booth. "I'm possessive, deal with it."

"If I'd wanted to, I could have had him any time in the past month," Lydia declared, her voice dripping with sugar which just made Peter glare at her. "I won't push it because I don't want him paying for something that's out of our control, but I will figure this out, and if the attraction is because of the two of you being mates and you remaining a part of me, we will come to an amicable arrangement." She let cool eyes drift between the two men, then frowned. "Because I didn't realize it until tonight, but since you bit me, I haven't wanted any man but Stiles."

"You're not me," Peter growled.

"A part of me seems to be," she growled back.

Stiles swallowed hard and slumped into his seat. Fuck his life, really.

It was nearly eight in the morning when they dropped off Lydia at her house and Stiles turned to Peter. "So, um, what now?"

"Before you all killed me, I rented an apartment. It's over on Euclid." He gestured to the East and Stiles put the jeep in gear.

"My dad's probably home, wondering where I am. I can't...I'm only sixteen, Peter."

Peter had obviously given this some thought. "I have no desire to go to jail or to kill your father, so we'll keep our relationship quiet until you're eighteen. Don't think that gets you out of your responsibilities to me and our pack. You're the Alpha Mate. You already care for the Betas. You already feel protective of them, am I right?" He didn't wait for Stiles' response. "That's natural. So, you'll come to all pack meetings, help us train and battle, tend to wounds, and share my bed when I want and you can get away from your father."

He found it pretty weird that his heart didn't sink at Peter's cooly spoken statement about sharing a bed, but Stiles simply nodded in acceptance. They'd keep it all from his dad. That's all that mattered. And, while he didn't like to think about it, let alone admit it to himself, being fucked by Peter hadn't sucked. He could get used to it.

He'd have to get used to it.

"I expect you to challenge me, to keep me in check, as well, Stiles. My revenge is complete, but killing is addictive. I don't want to be simply a killer. I want a pack, a family again. You can help me with that and I expect you to."

"Mpreg isn't a real thing is it?" He'd asked Derek the same question and was pretty sure the answer was 'no', but...

Peter snorted and gave him the address of his apartment. When they arrived and Stiles stopped the jeep, Peter leaned towards him and Stiles found himself echoing the move until their lips touched in a soft kiss.

"After school and practice, come to that death trap Derek calls a den for our first pack meeting. We need to figure out who the Kanima's master is and how to stop them both. Oh, and bring Scott."

Nodding, Stiles watched Peter exit the jeep and stroll towards the small eight-plex and the right ground floor apartment. Once he was out of view, Stiles took a deep breath, and headed home. He was going to be late to his first class as it was. He just hoped his dad was asleep. The night security gig was draining on him--maybe he hadn't even looked in on Stiles. Peter thought the older Stilinksi was still the sheriff; he'd have to explain what had happened there. He figured Peter would be happy--the night job would make it easier for Stiles to be with him overnight.

At home, his dad was asleep and since there were no 'where the hell are you, Stiles' messages via post-it on his door or left on his phone, which he'd left in yesterday's pants, he must not have checked on him. Stiles took the quickest shower ever, noticing that every mark Peter had given him was healed and the soreness in his ass was gone as well, threw on clean clothes, grabbed his backpack, and sped to school.

Mrs. Repogle, his English teacher, was amazingly tolerant of his tardiness, probably because he shared her love for Shakespeare which most students found untranslatable. Scott shot him a confused look then looked longingly at the empty desk next to him. Stiles gave a brief wonder about Allison being absent, then raised his hand to answer a question about Brutus' motivation for stabbing Caesar.

After class, Scott grabbed Stiles and dragged him into the nearest boy's bathroom. "Dude, I tried texting you a zillion times last night. Where were you?"

"It was the full moon, genius. Where do you think I was?"

"Well, yeah, I know that. Chained up somewhere, but you could have answered your phone. The party was freaking weird. Everyone got high on something, even me. Allison was there with creepy Matt and creepy Matt is Jackson's master."

...Okay, that made complete sense.

"And Allison's not here today and not answering my texts. I hope she's okay. She was freaked last night. We were all hallucinating."

A couple varieties of wolfsbane could do that. Peter had obviously taught Lydia to use the stuff.

"Back to Matt and Jackson. That's very interesting. It has something to do with the swim team, right?"

"Probably. Matt fell into the pool and he can't swim. He went completely nuts and Jackson had to rescue him."

"Hm..." Stiles mulled over all that and theories started popping into his head, and...he wanted to share them with Peter.

Shit. He was already thinking about Peter first to solve problems.

"We need to get into the sheriff's station to look at the files to make the connections complete. After practice, we'll head to Derek's and bring him up to speed. I don't want to involve my dad, but maybe he can help us get to the files."

And with that Stiles managed to avoid telling Scott anything about Peter.

For now.

As they left the bathroom for economics class, Stiles got a text from Lydia. She was staying home to start working on their problem and would use the science lab after school to start running DNA tests.

Of course she would.

Derek wasn't alone at the abandoned train station. His three Betas--now Peter's--were there, squished together on one of the ratty couches they'd scrounged from Goodwill, and they all looked uncomfortable. There was no sign of Peter, no scent of him either, but Stiles could sense Derek lurking in a dark corner. He figured the former Alpha hadn't told the pack anything yet, but they could sense something had changed.

Isaac's eyes went to him first, quickly followed by Boyd's and Erica's, and, almost as one they dropped them and submitted.

Stiles nearly fell down the last step in surprise, then jerked his attention to the dark corner when Derek half grunted, half growled, and stepped reluctantly into the light. As he and Scott crossed the floor towards the attempt at hominess along one wall, Derek slumped onto a stool and didn't look at him.

Scott and the puppies were probably still too inexperienced to tell, but Stiles knew Derek recognized the difference in him. Despite this not being a romance novel where the deflowered heroine just knew everyone could tell with one look, Stiles knew he didn't look any different, he wasn't acting any different, but there was probably a change in scent or something, because Derek knew.

Of course, he'd also been there the night before when Peter had ordered Stiles home with a smirk and an 'I'll be there soon', the bastard.

It felt good to think of his mate as a bastard, relieved him to know that he was still himself with his smart mouth and thoughts.

Although he nearly tripped over his feet again when Peter arrived in the building. Despite him being a floor above and behind two walls and doors, Stiles knew he was there. His heart sped up and, mouth suddenly dry, he gulped.

Derek slumped even more, and Scott stiffened.

"What...?"

Oh, yeah, sometimes he forgot that Scott was Peter's, too.

His best friend was the first to turn, hands fisting at his sides, eyes glowing, as Peter descended the stairs behind them.

And Stiles calmly stepped in front of Scott, forced him to meet his eyes, and firmly said, "Stop."

Scott whimpered and his wolf retreated. "Stiles?"

"Go sit down," he directed, his voice gentling, before he moved to Peter's side.

Peter smiled in pleasure and Stiles fought the instinctive eye roll, jamming his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and watching the confusion rolling over the Betas and Scott going to Derek's side, frustration and anger on his expressive face. Derek just stared at the floor.

Boyd was the one to break the silence. "Who is this?"

"A dead guy," Scott spat, not ready to submit, although Stiles could see him struggling, just as he could feel the power radiating off his mate as they joined the pack.

"Never truly dead. You have Derek to thank for that. Too sentimental to cut me in half." Peter took a seat in an easy chair, crossed one knee over the other, and wrapped his hand around Stiles' wrist to pull him easily onto the wide arm.

"Dude," Scott hissed at Derek. "After all that 'you have to cut a werewolf in half to make sure he doesn't come back' thing you made sure to pound into my head, and you didn't do that to him?"

Derek grunted and his eyes snapped up, his flaring blue eyes, that sent Scott stumbling a step back and made Erica and Isaac whimper in confusion.

"You're not Alpha anymore," Scott whispered in shock, then slowly turned to Peter. Stiles felt his eyes fall on him first, felt the immediate and uncomfortable surprise, as Peter still held his wrist, and flushed but didn't try to get away.

Scott might be uncomfortable, but Stiles wasn't. His wolf was curled inside him huffing in contentment.

They were right where they were supposed to be.

"No, he's not. He never should have been and he knows that, don't you, Derek." Peter smiled flatly at the three on the couch. "I'm Peter Hale, Derek's uncle, and I'm the Alpha now." Stiles didn't need to see it to know Peter flashed his red eyes. Isaac submitted immediately, baring his throat, and Erica quickly followed, though she growled in confusion. Only Boyd remained still, eyes locked on Peter.

"What if we don't accept that?"

"You're free to leave the pack, but that means leaving Beacon Hills as well. I won't have any Omegas in my territory. You're a smart one, Vernon. You know you're better off here."

Vernon? What the Hell?

"How do you know my name?"

"This town isn't that big. I went to school with your dad, Vernon Boyd the Third. He was a couple years ahead of me, but my abilities got me on the varsity basketball team with him when I was a freshman. I'm assuming that you don't want to leave your family..."

"...No." Slowly he lowered his eyes and head, but didn't quite bare his throat.

Stiles felt the hum of pleasure go through his mate and knew it was enough for now.

While that minor power play had gone on, Scott had moved closer to Stiles, still so very confused and angry.

"What did you do to Stiles?" he demanded belligerently.

"What I intended to do all along, Scott." Peter's fingers caressed Stiles' wrist, then slid down to entwine with his own, making Scott growl. "He's mine. He's been mine since I bit him. Now, are you going to submit?"

"Fuck you."

Peter laughed darkly. "Oh, Scott, weren't you listening? No Omegas allowed. You either join the pack or you leave Beacon Hills...or I kill you."

"No," Stiles protested, jerking his hand free only to have Peter's hand clasp his knee and squeeze him into silence.

Scott was turning purple, his wolf slipping in and out, his anger about to explode, and Stiles reacted instinctively, wolfing out himself, gold eyes flaring, as he growled, "Stop being an idiot! Next to Derek you're the strongest Beta here, but you can't beat Peter this time. You're alone this time."

Scott calmed, but looked so wounded, Stiles could only sigh. "You...?"

"I'm his," he sighed again and Peter's hand relaxed. "Dude, I accept it, okay?" he murmured to his mate, before turning back to his best friend. "Scott, I'm sorry, but this is Peter's pack now and he's not going to let you go your own way like Derek did. He'll force you if he has to. Do you want him threatening your mom again? Do you want him to kill Allison this time? Do you really want to die?"

Whether any of that sank in, Stiles had no idea, because all Scott asked in a weak voice was, "Did he...did you...um...already...?"

Stiles flushed and nodded which made Scott turn red again and finally back down. He didn't publically submit but stepped aside and dropped his eyes. "Okay...for now."

"Considering how stubborn you've been since the moment I bit you, I suppose I'll accept that...for now."

Rolling his eyes, Stiles watched the pack come together as one. Not a family yet, but he could feel the bonds forming, even if some were unwanted.

They discussed a lot of things over the next couple hours, including Jackson and Matt, but not touching on Lydia at all except her part in Peter's resurrection. They ordered pizza and when it arrived, Peter finally let Stiles leave his side and he wandered over to where Derek was picking at a slice of meat lover's.

He didn't look up from his seat, but he took a deep breath and, to Stiles' shock, apologized.

"What for?"

"I should have cut him in half."

Stiles shrugged. "Yeah, probably, but...I'm okay."

Derek did manage to meet his eyes briefly, then nodded slowly. "Your wolf knew the truth."

"Yeah, it wanted...Maybe I wanted, too. I don't know. It's all really confusing." He shuffled his feet and then plopped down in a bean bag chair and began to stuff pizza in his mouth, talking around his food. "I was scared to death at first, but then it wasn't horrible. Instinct, I guess."

They fell into silence, except for chewing and swallowing--Derek finally finding his appetite--until Stiles finished his last piece and wiped his greasy fingers on a paper towel. Looking up, he found Derek staring at him, impressive brows furrowed. "What?"

"How are you going to explain Peter to your dad?"

"Jesus, I'm not. Not until I'm eighteen. Peter's agreed, as long as I don't ignore my responsibilities." He air quoted around the last word, sighing in resignation, and Derek made his constipated face. "Don't worry. He has an apartment. We won't be doing it here."

"You shouldn't have to do it at all."

"Did you just air quote it?"

Derek sighed and face palmed.

A loud clap of palms from Peter silenced the room and drew the pack's attention. Stiles rose to his feet and joined his mate in the middle of the sitting area. "So, that was a successful first pack meeting and we broke bread together, a promising sign. Text me with any ideas for stopping the Kanima. We'll meet again tomorrow afternoon to come up with a working plan." With an only slightly creepy smile, he slid his arm around Stiles' waist and started towards the stairs.

"I thought we had a plan. I convince my dad of Matt being the baddie and he helps me get the files from the sheriff's station to prove it."

"I don't want you at risk, not yet."

"I can fight. Derek's been training me. I'm better than everyone but Scott."

"I'm not surprised," Peter replied proudly, "But, I just claimed you, Stiles. I want to be selfish. This can wait for tomorrow." They exited the building and got into the jeep. Before he could start the engine, Stiles' phone beeped and he pulled it out of his pocket to check the message.

"I told dad I was going out with Scott and some friends after practice. He's heading to work. I...Do you want...?" Hesitantly he glanced over at Peter to find him smiling.

"My place."

The deep rumble in his Alpha's voice made his wolf squirm eagerly. Taking a deep breath, Stiles turned the key.

To his surprise, he didn't immediately find himself naked on his hands and knees in Peter's bed. His mate showed him around the apartment--surprisingly clean and tastefully decorated--then into the well-stocked kitchen where he sat Stiles on a bar stool and began to make coffee to go with what looked like fresh baked snickerdoodles.

"I have a housekeeper. Her payments are automatically deposited for her so she never knew I'd been missing for a month."

Missing was the new euphemism for dead?

Stiles picked up a cookie and took a bite, cinnamon and sugar bursting in his mouth. "Wow. And did she bake these?"

"I did."

"You bake?" He knew he was gaping and talking with his mouth full but the cookies were just delicious and his mate could bake?

"I have many talents." Peter handed him a cup of coffee with two sugars and a dollop of real cream then pulled up a second stool across the island.

"Great coffee, too." It really was.

Peter smiled and took a drink then a bite of cookie. "I want to show you that I can provide, and, more importantly, that I can do more than threaten and kill. I want us to be happy together."

"I believe you."

"When I was...gone...I existed in a rather dream-like state. Sometimes I saw through Lydia's eyes and sometimes I was myself in her dreams. I was active, but also I had a lot of time to reflect. I regret how our relationship began. Whether you believe me or not, I was so broken by the fire and my agonizing and long recovery, that I was driven mad. The fact that I killed my own niece is a horror that I have to live with. And when I saw you, all I knew was that you needed to be mine and I went about getting you through threats and fear. Then, last night, I was just so eager and so full of life again and I pushed you. I don't regret being with you, but you were scared. I have to admit, that my wolf enjoys fear as well as acceptance. We are predators, after all."

As he listened to both his words and his truthful heartbeat, Stiles set down his cup before his shaking fingers dropped it. He wasn't sure if what Peter was saying was making this easier or not.

He wasn't denying their relationship any more because he just couldn't, but a part of him still wanted to see himself as having no choice, as being forced.

Peter's hand stretched across the island and took his. "You're a smart young man, Stiles. You know what's between us will only end with one of our deaths. I taunted you with that once, but I don't think you can kill me. Even that night, as you stood over me, I could see it in your eyes, or, rather, I couldn't see it. You didn't force Derek to kill me just because you didn't want the power for yourself."

"I...I don't want to be a killer." He looked down at their joined hands. "I know this is for life and I'm not actively hoping for your death and, yeah, I don't think I can do it, especially when you're like this, but that's all I can give you right now, Peter."

He was relieved when Peter nodded in acceptance and patted his hand as he released it.

"So no fighting me?"

"No." And Stiles' wolf whimpered in delight.

They watched a movie on Peter's large high def tv, sitting on a decadently comfortable couch with Peter's arm over his shoulders and Stiles leaning more and more into him as the night deepened. It was nearly ten when the movie ended and Peter cleaned up the coffee and cookies, then stood at the entrance to the hall that led to the two bedrooms.

Taking a deep breath, Stiles pushed himself up and walked over to join his mate. He was a little scared, but his wolf was keeping him calm. As Peter took his hand and led him down the hall, he felt the first flicker of arousal. He tried to remind himself he was a teenage boy and sex was sex, but his wolf grumbled and he knew he couldn't lie to himself.

Peter was different tonight. He was...human. He was being gentle and caring and Stiles couldn't help but wonder if this was the Peter who had existed before the fire, the one he had caught glimpses of in dreams.

The master bedroom was decorated with a subtle masculinity--dark woods, navy and ivory bedding and curtains, seascapes on the walls, and brass lamps. Turning on one of the lamps, Peter began to pull down the bedspread, then glanced at Stiles who fidgeted just inside the doorway.

"There's a new toothbrush and your brand of toothpaste in the bathroom along with other toiletries, if you'd like..."

Stiles nodded quickly and disappeared into the bathroom, quietly closing the door behind him. He used the toilet and washed his hands, then slowly looked up into the mirror that covered one whole wall. There was no fear in his eyes. A bit of resignation, a bit of curiosity. He'd been so scared the night before, yet he'd enjoyed the sex in the end. Would it be better without the fear?

Turning his head back and forth, examining his face, he still couldn't figure out what Peter saw in him. He hadn't lied to Lydia--he was bisexual and Peter was very attractive. He didn't even look all that old, and Stiles reminded himself he probably should find out his age and birth date and stuff like that. But, Stiles didn't find himself attractive at all. Even as a werewolf he was goofy looking.

Sighing, he dropped the self-examination and reached for the unopened toothbrush sitting in a brass holder.

When he left the bathroom, mouth nice and minty, Peter had his back to him and was removing his shirt, leaving him only in his trousers. He glanced over his shoulder and gave him an enigmatic smile, then moved to pull the curtains shut.

Stiles watched his back and shoulders flex and swallowed hard as the arousal deepened in the pit of his stomach. Needing something to do, he sat on a leather footstool in front of a matching chair, and took off his shoes and socks, setting them aside, then slid his flannel shirt down his arms. When he looked up, he found Peter still on the other side of the bed, still wearing his pants, but watching him with dark, hungry eyes.

Blushing, Stiles rose to his feet again and shoved his hands into his jeans' pockets. When Peter made no move towards him, he shuffled his feet into the plush carpet and gulped, "Um...Can you like do something because I'm getting nervous?"

Peter chuckle alerted him that the Alpha was circling the end of the bed and when he looked up, he was in front of him. The momentary humor was gone and Stiles realized what he was seeing on his face was desire and maybe even need.

"You don't think you're attractive, do you." Stiles shook his head and Peter reached for the hem of his t-shirt, lifting it up with Stiles' help, as he continued, "You're young and still developing, but all the good things are there." As he dropped the shirt, his free hand brushed over Stiles' chest. "Well-formed pectorals." The hand slid to his waist right above the low cut jeans. "A slender waist." Then fingers teased across the trail of hair from his belly button to where it was hidden behind denim. "And, this. Just enough."

Stiles' breath caught in his throat and his stomach contracted, making Peter smile. "You're the first man I've ever wanted. Before you it was only women. I loved their curves and smooth skin. There's nothing feminine about you, but you're so beautiful." Both hands took Stiles' hips and drew their bodies together. "Almost the same height, no need to bend my head to do this." He kissed him and Stiles opened his mouth for it immediately. He was being seduced.

He liked it.

His own hands went to Peter's back, feeling the bumps of his spine, the hollow at the base and the kiss deepened.

When Peter moved them onto the bed, Stiles went willingly.

Lydia was in school the next day. She came up to him at his locker before his first class and cocked her head in that now eerily familiar way. "You don't look as freaked today."

"Fighting the inevitable was just exhausting," he replied blithely, pulling his English book out and then wincing as he remembered they had sonnets due which he'd blown off for pack meeting, pizza, snickerdoodles and truly amazing sex. After getting home around one in the morning, he'd slept like a log, woken with a dream-induced stiffie and jerked off in the shower to memories of his mate sucking his dick.

"You just like the sex." Stiles blushed and Lydia gave him a knowing smirk. "So, the psycho behaved himself?"

"He's not...He's not really. Look, Lydia, he was horrible, I know that, you know that, and he knows that, but I'm his mate," he lowered his voice as he spoke quickly, "And that's for life and I'm going to make this work because I refuse to be miserable and beaten down like some kidnaped harem girl."

"Whatever." Rolling her eyes, she dismissed his statement and changed the subject. "I have permission to continue my experiments in the science lab in my free period and over lunch. Since we have the same of both, meet me there. Even if you're orgasm addled, you still the second smartest person in this school." She stalked away before Stiles could agree, protest, or gibber.

Free period and lunch ran into math which they had together and were both acing with about 110% due to extra credit since they were both so easily bored in the class aimed at D+ average students. Skipping it wasn't going to make a difference. Finally, about twenty minutes before Harris would arrive to reign holy terror over his second to last chemistry class of the day--he oversaw study hall before lunch and after, for some inexplicable reason, taught a graphic design course at the other end of the building--Lydia leaned back from the microscope and jotted down the results.

They matched the last half dozen.

"Peter fucked up my genes."

Stiles sighed but agreed. There was definitely something different. Lydia had run her DNA the year before for no other reason but that she was bored--and suspected her dad wasn't her dad, though he was--and there were three unique changes. They were slight, but there.

Unfortunately they couldn't determine what the changes did.

"I'm sending these results off to Stanford for analysis. My grandfather has a colleague there who works with mutated genes." She gathered up one copy of the print out, then handed Stiles the other set. "But, there's something different and I still want you, so I'm going with Peter's creepy self is lingering in my brain."

"Couldn't you just want me?" Stiles was actually kind of hurt, despite the awesome sex with his mate the night before, and having been in unrequited love with Lydia for most of his life.

Lydia's eyes softened. "Yes, but this is more than just teenage desire or urges. It's primal and compelling."

"So, you think I'm attractive."

"Focus." She hit him across the back of his head and slid from her stool.

"Violence, I like it." He grinned.

"Idiot. Come on, let's skip the rest of school and go confront Peter."

"This isn't proof." Gathering up his back pack and stuffing his copy inside, he trailed her out of the room as she strode quickly on three inch heels, her short skirt swaying. His eyes strayed, he couldn't help himself, and, of course, she caught him looking at her ass.

"Yeah, and that's not proof either. If Peter is right, you shouldn't be staring at my ass, Stiles."

"I never do anything the way I'm supposed to," he whined, then grabbed her arm and pulled her down a side hall away from an approaching hall monitor. "Can we argue about this in the car?"

"But, you were staring at my ass."

Resigned, he sighed and trailed her out of the building and to his jeep. After they were both buckled in, he started the engine and pulled out of his parking space, before glancing over at her, and, for a split second, he saw Peter sitting there.

Jesus, was she right or was he playing into her theory?

"Stiles, I'd say this was a real pleasure, except you're truant and not alone." Peter frowned at them like they were naughty children, but let them into the apartment. Lydia strode past both of them and instinctively into the office to boot up Peter's computer, using his password without asking for it, and inserting a memory stick.

Stiles gaped at her and slumped into the second desk chair as she sat in the first at the computer table, then glanced over his shoulder to see Peter in the doorway, watching her from narrowed eyes, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Cute tricks, Lydia."

"Not tricks. I know these things. The more I push it, the more I know. Once I realized you weren't a hallucination, I began to remember things I shouldn't know." The data scrolled across the screen. "There are three distinct changes to my DNA." She pointed them out. "I'm sending the test results away for analysis--I want to make sure you didn't do anything harmful to me--but it's clear to me that a part of you remains inside me somehow. I see Stiles as my mate. He sees me as his. Partially," she added, holding up a conciliatory hand as Peter growled. "So, what do we do about that? Because I'm not willing to go without sex for the rest of my life, and I can't even get turned on by Ian Somerholder, the only reason I've watched Vampire Diaries for the last four years, and always a part of my masturbatory fantasies."

As Stiles flushed at his long time obsession revealing that she played with herself, Peter grunted at him, then crossed the room to lean over Lydia's shoulder and review the data. She held her ground, but Stiles could see her fighting to keep her head straight and not bare her throat, which, because she wasn't a wolf, was pretty weird, especially if she thought of herself as kind of Peter-like and he was the Alpha and wouldn't submit to anyone.

All of this was pretty weird.

As Lydia pointed out various markers to Peter, Stiles carefully focused on both of them and, when he closed his eyes for a moment, they merged into one.

It wasn't just his dreams come true. He was attracted to both because he saw them both the same.

"When I look at Lydia I see you, Peter," he blurted out, then flinched as they both spun to glower at him. "Erm..."

"Is he lying? He told me that werewolves can tell if someone is lying because of their heartbeat."

"He's not lying," Peter reluctantly admitted, then ran a hand through his hair, tugging on it slightly in frustration. "I don't want to share him."

"And I don't want to be celibate. Why don't you ask what Stiles wants?"

"Erm..."

"I know what he wants." With a frustrated growl, Peter stormed out of the study and Stiles winced as something crashed and broke in the kitchen.

"Did you have to push him so fast?"

"Yes. There's no reason to pussyfoot around the subject."

"He's never going to let us...um...you know."

Lydia shrugged her shoulders and went back to the data. There was another crash in the kitchen and Stiles winced.

"Jeez..." With a reluctant sigh, Stiles pushed himself out of his seat and dragged his feet as he headed to the kitchen. There he found Peter leaning over the island, hands spread and clenching around the beveled edges, head bowed as a low, continuous growl sounded from him. A couple plates lay shattered on the floor behind him and a metal canister of coffee beans was spilled across one of the counters along with what looked like a twisted and broken tea kettle. There was an obvious dent in a cabinet where something, probably the kettle, had been thrown. Stiles skirted the glass and approached Peter from his side. When red eyes shot to his, he stopped, hands held out in supplication and neck bared in submission.

"This isn't the way it's supposed to be."

"You were supposed to be dead. You came back through magic and there's always a price to be paid for magic."

The red in his eyes fading, Peter huffed in annoyance and released his death grip on the counter. Stiles made a face at the sight of gouge marks in the wood. Better the counter got it, though, then his tender flesh.

Or Lydia's.

"I won't hurt you." Peter was annoyed and frustrated and Stiles' wolf was scrabbling inside his head, telling him to pacify his Alpha, but he still had a too smart mouth.

"Yeah, but you'd hurt Lydia, right? Can't allow that."

"Allow?" Peter snarled and flashed his fangs.

"You told me to challenge you, to keep you in check. I'm not going to let you hurt her for something that's not her fault. Not mine either." Crossing his arms over his chest, Stiles stood his ground, although he was smart enough not to look Peter directly in the eyes, and, to his surprise, his wolf supported him. He could tell the moment some of the anger and frustration drained out of his mate when Peter sighed and dragged his hand through his hair again. It seemed to be a tell. The Alpha turned and leaned back against the counter, arms mimicking his young mate's.

"You know I don't care if she ever gets laid again."

"Well, yeah, but I do." Damn blush heating his face. "Um, I mean, I don't want her to be sad and lonely."

"Is that all due to you seeing her as me?"

"No," he answered honestly. "I still care about her. The bond here didn't just wipe that out. I didn't fall head over heels in love with you, dude."

"Don't call me dude," Peter sighed, rolling his eyes at Stiles' youth, and Stiles chalked that up to a win. Peter was calmer, making an annoyed joke. That was good. "So, what do you want, Stiles?"

"To be with her, to love her," was the automatic reply, but then Stiles frowned and listened to his own heart beat. "To be with you, to be a good mate, to strengthen our pack. I shouldn't want both, Peter. The wolf knows, but it's beginning to accept my wanting Lydia as much as I want you."

Peter laser focused on the last bit of that mumbled statement. "You want me."

"Dude."

Peter snorted back a laugh, then reached out and dragged Stiles against him, burying his nose in his neck and wrapping him in his arms.

"Trust me to do the whole mate thing wrong," Stiles muttered into Peter's shoulder as he held him back.

"It's not your fault. If it's anyone's, it seems to be mine, but we will figure out how to deal with this." That was a promise, and for the first time since arriving at the apartment, Stiles relaxed.

So, of course, Lydia interrupted them. "Have a temper tantrum, Peter?" As the two men broke apart, Peter scowling at her, Stiles sighing, she glanced at the phone in her hand. "I sent the data to my grandfather's colleague and he said it would take about a week for him to review everything. I won't push this until then and until we deal with Jackson, who I still love by the way, and whatever's going on with Allison and her family because she finally returned one of my texts and just snapped my head off for being friends with werewolves. She was dating one, the hypocrite."

"Her mother died at the full moon."

Stiles and Lydia both rounded on Peter in shock. He shrugged. "She was bitten by Derek, I thought you knew that, Stiles."

"I did. Been a bit busy to process that. Did the bite kill her?"

"No, she put a knife in her heart. Hunters don't become wolves. I assume by now that Gerard has cut her in half."

"Oh God, poor Allison."

"I'm going to try to see her. She's still my best friend," she explained to Stiles when he protested, then turned to Peter. "Figure out how to help Jackson. We need to calm this town down before we can address any of our own issues."

"You would have made a magnificent wolf."

"I make a magnificent anything." Shouldering her bag, she looked at Stiles. "I'll let you know how Allison is and I'll...I'll stay away from you for now. I mean it, I don't want Jackson hurt. I want him fixed. I can't be with him unless something can be changed about this mutation, but I still love him enough to want him to be happy. He's been turned into a killer and it all started with Derek biting him so that makes him your pack's problem." Her accusing eyes shot to Peter who nodded in acceptance.

"I have some ideas on how to do that. It may need your assistance."

"As long as I'm not a hallucinating dupe, I'm all for helping." With that last biting comment, she spun and left the apartment.

Stiles finally met Peter's thoughtful eyes. "Can you save Jackson?"

"Maybe. I need to do some more research, but it's good she still loves him, because I think that may be the key."

"You like to research?"

Peter smiled and reached out. Stiles' hand met his, twining them together. "Want to join me? And I'm ready to listen to your ideas on how to prove this Matt kid is the Kanima's master."

Smiling back, pleased to know that his mate was smart and liked something he did--because he was the google/wiki master--Stiles followed him back to the study.

Three nights later, Stiles crouched by Peter's side at the end of the bridge over the river watching Gerard claim the Kanima. He could feel the tension in his mate, the frustration leaking from him, and Stiles couldn't help but wonder if he was blaming him for their delay.

But, Stiles had to look after his dad. Matt had clocked the elder Stilinski with the butt of a gun, knocking him unconscious and after the attack by the Argents--and Allison, what the fuck?--once the EMTs had been called, he couldn't leave him. Peter had Matt's scent, but was torn between following and staying with his distressed mate.

He'd stayed. Stiles was still a bit amazed by that, and Peter had stayed out of sight, but Stiles had felt his presence calming him. By the time his dad was deemed okay and, at Ms. McCall's insistence, was on his way to the hospital, Stiles had been ready to join Peter in the hunt for the psychotic teen.

But, they'd been too late. Gerard had just risen from the river where Matt floated beneath the surface, quite dead, and called to Jackson.

As they watched the old man lead the Kanima away, Stiles cautiously leaned against Peter's thigh and felt his mate's hand come down on his head. Not hard, not punishing, but in a light caress accompanied by a disgruntled sound.

"Well, that would have been easier if I could have claimed Jackson."

"Sorry."

Stiles caught a glimpse of surprise on Peter's face, then he was lifted to his feet and hugged.

"No, you don't have to be sorry to put your father's health over going after Matt. I understand that. I approve of putting pack first, Stiles."

"But, my dad..."

"Is pack through you, even if he never knows." Lips brushed Stiles forehead, then Peter took his hand and they began walking back towards town. "It's okay, this is just a hiccup. I've nearly figured out just what we need to do to save Jackson. It would have been easier to get him to where we need him if I had him, but it's not over by a long shot. Now, why don't you tell me exactly what happened? How did Matt get the drop on both you and Scott?"

Since he didn't sound like he was being reprimanded, Stiles launched into a full explanation of the events of the night, ending with, "And, oh yeah, Ms. McCall saw Scott all wolfed out, so we probably need to talk to her."

Peter sighed. "That'll be fun."

"Right, the last she knew, you were one night date guy."

Chuckling, his mate pulled him close in a side hug. "And we need to have a pack meeting to discuss the escalation by the Argents. They attacked the sheriff's station with, they had to know, several humans inside, and if Allison has fully joined her grandfather, has she told him about you?"

"Yeah, I saw her and Scott and she gave me a really bad look, like if he hadn't been there, she'd have put a crossbow bolt through my head," Stiles said sadly. He'd thought Allison was his friend, but that look of hatred... "I can't see her keeping my secret. At least she doesn't know about you."

"Unless any of the hunters saw Derek's eyes are no longer red. Logically they wouldn't jump to the conclusion of my resurrection, but they'll know something has changed. And, speaking of Derek, did you notice that something seemed off with him after the battle was over?"

Stiles shrugged. "He's always out of sorts."

Peter snorted in agreement. "Now, let's get you to the hospital and your dad. Tomorrow is soon enough to decide our next step."

Giving his Alpha a grateful smile, Stiles changed with him and they began to run.

"Dad, they just want to keep you overnight for observation. I'm just going to go home and crash."

"Stiles, I can't leave you alone. That kid is still out there." As he protested, his dad tried to sit up in his hospital bed and Stiles easily held him down, cheating just a bit with his strength. "Huh. Okay, maybe I'm a bit weaker than I thought. But, still, I'd feel better if you weren't alone."

"Okay, I'll stay at Scott's. I'll be back in the morning to spring you from here."

"I can't believe his wound was superficial enough that he's out of here already," the former sheriff muttered then he looked up at his son. "Maybe you shouldn't stay there. He should get some rest." "Well, I'm not staying here. Ms. McCall will probably be glad that I'll be there to make sure Scott doesn't try to run around and rip his stitches."

There was a snort in response and Stiles grinned. He and his dad had the exact same, dry sense of humor and smart mouth, though his dad controlled the latter better. Leaning down he squeezed his dad's shoulders in a semi-hug. "Get some sleep, dad. I can tell you have a headache."

"Could have been much worse." His face tightened. "Stiles, it could have been so much worse."

"Yeah, I know."

They exchanged a long look, and then nodded at each other, and Stiles slipped out of the room. Down the hall in the waiting area, Peter sat flipping through a magazine, appearing nonchalant, but Stiles knew he was completely aware of his surroundings. Their eyes met immediately, then Peter glanced the other way and Stiles saw Scott shuffling down the hall, shoulders drooping, looking completely beaten. With a nod from his mate, Stiles went to his best friend first and drew him into the otherwise empty waiting area.

"All healed?"

Scott nodded, one finger poking at the bloody hole in his shirt. "Dude, my mom won't look at me. She won't even talk to me. She just told me to go home. I don't...what am I going to do?"

"Stiles and I are going to talk to her," Peter interjected with surprising gentleness. Scott stared at him in surprise.

"I don't think that'll help."

"It's our duty to you." Setting aside the magazine, Peter rose to his feet and approached the two Beta wolves. "You didn't plan to tell your mother, but you revealed the truth to protect her and the sheriff."

"Former," Stiles pointed out with a sigh.

"I've already written a strong email to the city council members and mayor stating my belief that he should be reinstated immediately with back pay."

Not knowing what to say, Stiles could only smile in delight and press himself to his mate's side.

"As I was saying, I'm your Alpha and Stiles is my Alpha Mate. We protect our own and that includes your mother. Explanations should come from us."

"Still don't think it'll help," Scott muttered, but lowered his eyes and fiddled with the hem of his shirt. "She's scared."

"Of course she is, that's only natural."

"Stiles wasn't scared."

At that, Peter chuckled. "Because he's a teenage boy. Of course he finds the supernatural to be, what's your word for it, Stiles?"

"Awesome."

"Awesome. Your mother is scared for you as much as scared of you. It may take her a while, but she'll come around. She's a very strong woman."

"You're not going to try to date her again are you?"

"I think my mate would protest that," Peter replied dryly, and Stiles nodded automatically.

"Don't be stupid, Scott. I'm pretty sure I explained that wolves mate for life."

"Yeah, I pretty much tuned all that out because just the thought of the two of you is really gross."

Smacking his best friend over the back of his head, Stiles huffed, and Scott smirked, and then they hugged.

Peter rolled his eyes and Stiles knew he was wondering for the hundredth time, though fondly, why his mate had to be a sixteen year old, goofy boy.

Ms. McCall's first reaction was surprise to see Peter, then wondering why he was with Stiles, then, when they told her they were werewolves, she threw an ear thermometer at Peter's head and yelled at Stiles for being stupid.

After explanations and a lot of yelling--luckily the nurses' break room was deserted this late at night--she finally slumped on a low couch and buried her face in her hands. While Peter stood against one wall trying to appear non-threatening, Stiles sat down next to her and carefully placed a hand on her shaking shoulder.

"It's okay, Ms. McCall, really."

"No, it's really not, Stiles. Not for you and not for Scott. He's my baby and you might as well be my kid, too. And now you're both..." Her accusing eyes shot up to Peter. "You bit my baby, turned him into this thing against his will, and you did the same thing to Stiles, threatening his dad to get him to accept it." They'd told her that much, but not that they were mates. Stiles was still underage and she was a medical professional with a responsibility to report such things. She probably couldn't do it without revealing the whole werewolf issue, but if she knew that they were together it would just make this even harder to discuss.

"I was barely conscious of what I was doing when I bit Scott, Melissa. And I was still broken and angry when I forced Stiles to accept the bite. I don't regret either. They're strong wolves and I need a pack to survive. I know this is hard to understand, let alone accept, but they aren't monsters. They're kids who love you. Scott loves you. His greatest fear has been that you'd find out and react exactly as you're doing."

"You son of a bitch!"

"Well, technically..."

Hissing, "Peter, not helping," Stiles replaced his hand on her shoulder after her jerking forward had knocked it off. She turned to look at Stiles and he nearly flinched from the fear on her face. "Ms. McCall, I'm still me. Scott's still Scott. We're just a bit more now."

"He wouldn't have told me if I hadn't seen, right?"

"Probably not."

"And I'm guessing your dad has no clue."

Stiles shook his head. "And please don't tell him."

"You have to, Stiles. He's the sheriff, or he was and he should be again. He needs to know. You're out there fighting things we don't even know exist and you're a kid. Scott's still a kid and he's getting shot and there are crazy hunters gunning for him and a lizard thing attacking him and..."

Instinct drove him to pull her into his arms and rock her, despite her being more than twice his age and his friend's mom. He was the Alpha Mate and she smelled like Scott, like pack.

Over her shoulder, Stiles caught a glimpse of pride on Peter's face and nodded.

Yeah, all this was getting easier and easier to accept.

When they left Ms. McCall she was calmer and had promised not to tell anyone about werewolves. She hadn't promised she could face Scott yet, but she hadn't flinched away from Stiles, so he figured that was a promising sign.

Dawn was only a couple hours away when he and Peter exited the hospital and the older male turned to the younger. "Come home with me?"

Stiles nodded. That had actually been the plan all along. He didn't want to be alone and, while Scott might need him, hopefully his mom would be ready to talk to him now and she might not if Stiles was there.

The apartment was quiet and Peter lit only a few lamps, keeping the light dim. As the adrenaline from the fight and everything that followed finally drained away, Stiles felt exhaustion overtaking him.

"Bed," Peter murmured, guiding a drowsy Stiles into the bedroom and undressing him. "Need the bathroom?"

Yawning, Stiles shook his head and slid into the pajama bottoms Peter held out to him, then climbed onto what had so quickly become his side of the bed, the one away from the windows. Peter changed into a pair of knit shorts and slid beneath the covers behind his mate, wrapping him in his arms.

"I can...I mean, it's okay if you want." Stiles stumbled over his own thoughts, his cheeks reddening even as he yawned again, so very tired. But he could do his duty and his hands started to push down his pants.

With a gentle touch, Peter stopped him. "You're more than a bed mate, Stiles. So much more."

"But, we've never just slept." Dopey and confused, he still felt he should let Peter have him, because that was his job.

And he must have said that out loud, because Peter nuzzled the back of his neck and murmured, "It's not your job, my darling mate. I'm sorry if I made you feel that way. I'd have you here in my arms every night if possible, but even an Alpha wolf doesn't want to mate all the time. You're tired. So am I, and I just want to hold you and sleep for a few hours."

Stiles finally let his eyes droop shut and nodded in acceptance. "'kay." He could feel Peter's smile when he pressed a kiss to his upturned cheek.

It felt good.

It felt right.

Not even a week had passed and Stiles felt comfortable with Peter. While he understood the need to pacify him when he was angry, he also wasn't scared of him any longer.

Peter was his mate.

Stiles was okay with that.

Waking up to find a hot mouth wrapped around the tip of his cock was definitely the best thing ever and the only way Stiles ever wanted to wake up again. He must have babbled that, because Peter chuckled, which just sent a shiver through Stiles and made him squirm and buck.

"Morning sex. Morning sex is really good."

Licking a stripe up Stiles' cock, Peter grinned salaciously up at him. "Yes, it is. And we have an hour before you need to get to the hospital."

Dad. Stiles tried to sit up, wondering where his phone was, and Peter easily held him down and ran his tongue around the aching head of his dick before using his fingers to pump him a couple times until he was completely distracted. "I called the hospital. He's fine and will be released at ten. It's just nine."

"'K, 'K, okay. Oh, holy Jesus, Peter do that again." That was his talented tongue flicking into the slit as his fingers squeezed Stiles' balls. He did do it again and Stiles howled in pleasure, but then Peter sat up and wriggled out of his shorts, revealing his own erection. "Why'd you stop?"

"Pouting?" Peter gave him an amused look, then flopped onto his back and dragged Stiles over him.

While his first thought was that he was going to get to fuck Peter, he knew better, but, still, he was confused.

"I want you to ride me. I want you to ride me and jerk off and come all over me so that I smell like you just like you always smell like me."

Cock jerking in eagerness, Stiles nodded quickly, then scrambled to straddle Peter, being careful not to knee him in the groin. As he did so, his mate pulled the lube from the night stand drawer and poured some onto his fingers. "Lean forward." When Stiles obeyed, he reached behind him and slid one finger into him.

It was still uncomfortable and Stiles wondered if that would ever change, but since he knew just how good it would feel eventually, he rocked onto Peter's finger until he added a second and finally a third, stretching the tight muscles and opening him. While he was doing that, Stiles pressed heated kisses to any of Peter he could reach and rubbed their leaking cocks together until they were both gasping.

"I'm good, so good," he crooned, then moaned as Peter pulled his fingers out. Together they got Stiles in the right position and Peter guided himself inside. "Oh fuck, this is amazing." With a loud grunt of pleasure, Stiles sank all the way down and stared into Peter's hooded, lust-filled eyes. He watched as Peter released his hip and folded his hands beneath his head. While he appeared casual, the beads of sweat across his forehead and lip betrayed his desire, but he didn't move.

Realizing bringing them both off was up to him, Stiles enjoyed the flood of empowerment and arousal that thought brought. Placing his hands on Peter's chest, he lifted his hips, dragging the cock inside him along his prostate and making his own dick ache, then he dropped back down, and a gasp burst from him. "Wow." He did it again and it was even better. What little pain he felt as he adjusted to the size and position was wiped out by the intense feeling of being full and the almost electrical bolts of pleasure zinging through him. As he began to bounce in eagerness, he moved one hand to his cock and began to pump it, his hand slick with his own pre-cum making the glide easy.

All the while, he watched Peter watching him, felt him shudder minutely beneath him and his cock twitch inside him, heard his barely contained growls and grunts. This was power.

This was sex and it was great.

His hips began to churn faster, circling and rising and falling, the angle driving Peter's cock against his prostate, and his own cock throbbed in his hand and he was so close.

"Gonna...gonna come," Stiles moaned, arching his back and shaking as the pleasure burned through him. Eyes falling shut, hips never stopping, he spilled all over them with a loud cry. As he gasped and panted, his hand slowing on his tender dick, he opened his eyes to find Peter's red, his head arching into the pillow, and then his hands grabbed Stiles hips and he lifted them both from the bed with one powerful thrust as he came.

The next thing Stiles knew he was curled next to his mate, panting into his sweaty chest, his back being lazily stroked. "Wow."

"Yes, wow." Peter kissed his forehead then nuzzled behind his ear. "Sadly we have to get up and shower or even your human father will smell me on you."

That thought was both disturbing and amusing, but it got Stiles out of the bed and stumbling towards the bathroom. Peter followed at a much more sedate and dignified pace.

Much to Stiles' relief, his dad was okay and almost immediately called into the sheriff's station by the distraught mayor. Matt's body had been found. Four deputies were dead, including the acting sheriff, and the city council basically begged the elder Stilinski to take his job back. Stiles still felt guilty for so much of what had happened to his dad, but having him back where he belonged helped. Allison didn't come back to school and from all they could tell, remained holed up with her family, probably throwing darts at pictures of Derek. From her brief conversation with Scott that night at the station, her demand to know the location of what she believed to be the Alpha, Stiles was sure she blamed the broody Hale for her mom's death. He could understand that, but he couldn't understand her becoming a complete whack-job killer.

Derek was being really cagey about something and Scott was keeping secrets. Scott, who usually couldn't do that to save his soul.

One good thing though, it didn't seem that Stiles had been outed by Allison or her dad to psycho grandpa--and, Stiles would never think of Peter ever being a psycho after dealing with both Matt Daehler and Gerard Argent; he was nowhere in their league. As he patrolled around the school with that sick smirk on his face, the Principal never looked Stiles' way.

Still, he figured he was living on borrowed time, and, after winning the championship game and finding himself tasered and dragged off the darkened field, then waking to being shoved down a set of stairs to crack his chin on a cement basement floor, he figured that time was over.

Groaning, Stiles pulled himself to his knees, then stiffened. The room was dark, but as he blinked, he could not only see, but sense that he wasn't alone. Just in case his secret was still safe, he didn't dare scent the air, so he appeared to stumble over to the wall and flick the light switch.

He'd sensed pack, but he was still shocked to find Boyd and Erica bound with wires from the ceiling and gagged. There was blood on their clothes, obviously theirs from the holes there as well. They'd been shot, but he didn't think with wolfsbane.

The last he'd known, Peter had them patrolling the Preserve, while Isaac, Scott and Stiles played in the game to keep track of Jackson, and Derek lurked wherever Peter sent him.

Tears leaked from Erica's eyes and she was whimpering through her gag. Boyd was being stoic, but Stiles could tell he was in pain. Going over to them, he reached for the wires and heard them both give muffled yells as he touched them. He wasn't really surprised when they shocked him and he fell, moaning, though the pain wasn't all that severe.

If Gerard still thought he was human, he'd play that up as long as he could, giving Peter a chance to find him.

Because his mate would find him. Stiles knew he had to be going crazy. He just hoped the Alpha didn't charge in fangs and claws a'blazing without a plan. Slowly he pushed himself to his feet and tried to convey confidence and concern to his Betas, but they were scared and in pain. When the door upstairs opened, his gaze was jerked in that direction and he watched Gerard descend.

He began to monologue, and Stiles back-talked, and wasn't surprised when the first punch came. He took it, grunting from it and each successive blow, letting them hurt him. One of the first things he'd learned as Peter's mate was how to slow the healing process. Peter said it came in handy when trying to pass as human. The way Gerard was mocking him and beating him, Stiles was pretty sure he had no clue about the truth.

An hour later, when he was dumped out of a van on the edge of town, he was sure.

Their mistake.

Peter was there in an instant, picking him up, cradling him on his lap as he knelt in the dusty weeds along the deserted road. His hands were everywhere, stroking and petting, and Stiles let himself revel in the concern for a moment, then freed his healing.

"It's okay, it's okay, Peter. See, I'm healing."

"I followed you there, to the house. I heard everything. Smelled your pain. It nearly drove me mad, but you were being so brave to pretend you were human, I couldn't interrupt. If he'd moved past his fists, I would have, I swear. I'd have ripped his head off," Peter muttered, pressing kisses all over Stiles' head and face, carefully tasting his bruises.

"I know. It's okay. I knew you'd find me. I felt you outside, and it's okay you didn't come in. I'm an ace in the hole, right?"

"My best."

Stiles smiled, wincing as his split lip cracked open again, then gasped as Peter kissed him, tasting his blood and drawing out his pain. When his mate drew back, Stiles remembered and blurted out, "Gerard has Erica and Boyd. He's torturing them."

"I know," Peter soothed. "I felt them there as well, heard everything he did to them, but they're okay. Chris approached me outside his house, and, while he seemed surprised to find me alive, all he said was that he would set them free. That they were innocent. I believe him. Of all the hunters I've ever known, he's the only one who truly follows the code."

"Man, I'm surprised he didn't try to kill you."

"He has a lot more important things on his plate. His daughter has gone to the dark side."

Stiles managed a grin. "Star Wars reference? Dude you are the perfect mate."

He could tell he'd surprised Peter, how he huffed in pleasure and buried his nose in Stiles' neck, scenting him and wiping out the odor of old man. After a few minutes, after Stiles healed completely and started rubbing his own nose along Peter's neck, Peter softly said, "All I want is for you to be happy, Stiles. When this is over, when Gerard is defeated, when Jackson is either saved or killed, if you still want her, it's okay. I'll live with it."

Surprised, Stiles pulled back and looked into his mate's concerned eyes. "What?"

Peter responded with a chagrined look, then lifted Stiles from him and them both to their feet. "You need to let your dad know you're okay. Make up a story about being kidnaped by the other team or something, and, by the way, you played brilliantly."

"Um, way to change the subject, but thank you, and you were there?"

"Of course."

Basking in Peter's pride didn't mean he was dropping this. "I can be with Lydia?"

"The attraction is my fault. Something I did went wrong. I don't want you to suffer."

"I'm not suffering," Stiles protested. "You're my mate. You're enough."

"You called for her in your sleep last night," Peter explained sadly, and Stiles flushed in embarrassment.

"I...I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. There's no need to apologize."

"Are you sure?"

Peter nodded. "I can't promise I won't get jealous and that I won't put restrictions on your time with her, but I've been thinking about it, and there is something she can give you I can't."

"Well, yeah, being on top," Stiles mumbled, "Though knowing Lydia..." He really wasn't surprised when the older man rolled his eyes and started them walking back towards town.

"No, idiot." It was affection, pure and simple, and Stiles snorted a laugh. "I've seen you with the pack, how you treat them like your own cubs. She can give you that, Stiles. Your own cubs."

Stiles nearly fell over his feet. "Children?"

"Yes."

"You'd let me be a dad?"

"I had thought, in a few years, to use a surrogate. This is even better, because, in a way, your children will be mine. That is, if you truly believe Lydia's DNA has combined with my own somehow."

"I do, so does she, oh man, really? Kids? And, you're okay with raising them? I mean, after Gracie...?"

Peter stopped and turned towards Stiles, taking his arms and looking into his eyes. "I will love my baby girl until the day I die, but I always wanted more children. I have to continue the Hale line so we'll still go the surrogate route, but, when I rebuild the mansion, I want to fill it with our cubs. I won't care who fathered them, who bore them. They'll be ours."

A brilliant smile crossed Stiles' face and he leaned in to kiss his mate. When they separated, he couldn't help but get a bit smart mouthed. "Let's just not tell Lydia you plan to breed her, okay?"

The ensuing snort was loud enough to muffle Stiles' giggle.

The sheriff bought Stiles' story. Lydia came to him to talk about bringing this whole mess to an end, and when Stiles got a signal from Peter, they left together in his jeep. The next few hours passed so quickly. Running over Jackson--and he had to admit that felt good--Chris siding with them against Allison and Gerard, the fighting between wolves, hunters and the Kanima, the truth about Gerard coming out and his threats to kill his own granddaughter.

The revelation of the old man's terminal cancer wasn't really a surprise. He smelled off.

As he was pondering how to take advantage of that, Scott turned on them, grabbing Peter from the shadows and dragging him into the light. Stiles began to panic, but then he frowned in confusion. Why wasn't Peter fighting harder?

"Well, this is an interesting turn of events. I've never heard of a Beta becoming an Alpha without the death, somehow, of the previous one yet your nephew's quite alive. And how did you come back from the dead, Hale? Did you know your aunt's butcher was alive again, Allison?" Held by the Kanima, almost choking, she still managed to shake her head, her eyes wide in shock. "Chris?"

"I found out tonight. This has to stop. Scott let him go." Chris raised his gun, pointing it at Scott, and Stiles finally unfroze and moved in front of the barrel. "Get out of my way, kid."

Letting his wolf free, Stiles snapped over his shoulder, "Not a kid," and was almost pleased by the surprise on Chris' face at the sight of his gold eyes and fangs.

"Well, well, so the useless human is actually a wolf. It takes a lot of control not to heal. You must be a lot older than Scott to be able to do that. Or were you born a wolf?"

"Neither," Stiles snarled at Gerard, then moved towards his best friend who was wrestling his Alpha to his knees in front of the old man.

"Stay back," Peter commanded and Stiles skidded to a halt, confused.

"Peter..."

"No, let this play out." His eyes flashed red, his fangs lengthened and his face shifted. Before anyone could make another move, Gerard stuck his arm in Peter's mouth and the Alpha bit.

"What the fuck man?!" Stiles wasn't sure who he was questioning. Something crazy was happening here. Peter should have easily been able to free himself. He didn't need to bite. He could have shifted back.

As soon as Scott let him go, Stiles was at his mate's side, dragging him half onto his lap. Peter spit blood and wiped his mouth as his features returned to human, then he raised one hand to Stiles' cheek.

"Shift."

Another command that Stiles instantly obeyed, letting go of his wolf.

"Now watch." What the hell was that smirk? "What the hell are you smirking for? Do you think the bite'll kill him?"

"Not the bite."

At that satisfied sounding comment, Stiles jerked his attention to Scott who was watching Gerard, and, following the direction of his gaze, he saw the old man's pleasure fade, his face turn purple, and then his wound began to leak black, foul smelling ichor.

"Mountain ash," he howled and then spewed up a couple gallons of black yuck. Feeling his stomach turn, Stiles buried his face in the top of his mate's head. All around him was confusion, and then Gerard was demanding Jackson kill everyone, and he pulled Peter up, preparing for another fight.

But, before anyone could attack, Lydia, her face streaked with tears, was in front of the Kanima, holding out a key.

Everyone watched as it took the key. Everyone listened as Lydia coaxed and soothed and pled. The Kanima faded and Jackson returned, his face betraying all his confusion and loss.

And Peter and Derek moved as one, Peter from the front and Derek from the back and they stabbed their claws through Jackson whose body arched in agony and then collapsed when they retracted them. They stepped back and Lydia, sobbing, fell to her knees and reached for the limp body of the boy she loved.

Stiles yelled, "Peter, why?" and started forward, only to stop when his Alpha shot him a silent command from red eyes. Trembling in confusion, feeling Lydia's pain as if was his own, he waited and he watched.

Jackson stirred and Lydia jerked back in surprise. He rose above her and tilted his head and howled as he wolfed out.

Blue eyes. Stiles filed that away as one more thing to ask Peter--this night was raising a lot of questions. As Lydia laughed in joy and hugged Jackson, Stiles noticed that someone wasn't watching this whole scenario with varying levels of surprise and shock and horror. "Where's psycho grandpa?"

Peter glanced over to the pool of blood and black ichor where there were obvious drag marks towards the doors, then walked over to his mate. "He won't get far. He's dying."

"Did you know about the mountain ash?" Stiles accused, a frown on his face that he switched back and forth between Peter, who was kind of gloating, and Scott who looked kind of sheepish.

"Of course. I'm the Alpha. As a Beta should, Scott told me of Gerard's threats to his mother, and, along with Deaton, he came up with the plan to switch his pills with ones filled with the ash. It was easy enough to see that Gerard was sick, dying. Couldn't you smell it?"

"Didn't really like sniffing the creep, though I noticed something once he told us."

"And it was obvious that his end game was to become a werewolf in order to survive. He expected the Alpha to be Derek, but that didn't really matter to him as long as he got the bite."

"I wanted to tell you, dude." Scott sounded apologetic and Stiles half way forgave him because it was Scott, but his mate was just too damn smug.

So, he turned his disgruntled attention completely back to Peter. "And I helped you with all that research on how to save Jackson and you didn't fill me in on what you planned there either. We need to work on your sharing skills."

"Your pouting is adorable." With a chuckle, Peter reeled Stiles into his arms, ignored his squawking, and kissed the stuffing out of him. Stiles heard Scott gag, heard Derek's long-suffering sigh, but it was the sound of a gun cocking that had him pulling back and spinning in front of his Alpha to protect him.

A dark look on his face, Chris Argent aimed his drawn gun at Peter's head, his finger tight on the trigger. "You mated with a teenage boy. That's why Stiles is so strong and capable. You perverted..."

"Stop it," Stiles growled, releasing his wolf and raising his claws in a threat. "If you know anything, you know mating is an instinct. He couldn't stop it anymore than I could." He felt Peter press against his back, his hands cup his shoulders.

"If you want to speak of perversion," he began his voice soft and so deadly, "Look to your own sister. At least I have my wolf's needs to answer to and would never, ever hurt or betray my mate. I couldn't. Unlike your human bitch of a sister." As he spoke, his eyes drew Chris' to Derek, who dropped his own to the floor, shoulders slumping in humiliation.

Stiles felt like face palming and hissed at his mate, "Timing, dude," before shifting back to human and going to Derek. He took his arm, ignoring the attempt at shaking him off, and drew him into the shadows. "Not the best time, Derek, but it needs to be out there. You were a kid, a stupid, horny kid. I'm intimately acquainted with the type."

Derek didn't laugh or roll his eyes or do anything but try to curl into a ball while standing up. "It doesn't matter. I'm still responsible. Peter's right not to forgive me."

"If we're going to survive as a pack, a family, we both need to forgive each other." Stepping into the shadows, Peter reached out and dragged Derek into his arms.

Giving them both happy looks, Stiles turned and walked back into the main area. Lydia and Jackson--him still disturbingly naked--were clinging to each other, but her eyes turned to Stiles and there were questions there. He remembered what Peter had said and wondered if she still wanted him. Yeah, questions they both needed to address, but tomorrow.

Scott was staring at Allison who was being held by her dad who was looking very disturbed, while Isaac was on the phone to Erica--she and Boyd were back at the den but remained shaken by their torture.

Time to get out of here, head home, talk to his dad and see if there was an official story on Jackson yet. He really hoped he didn't have to give his best song and dance yet tonight. Walking over to his jeep, he examined her front grill and frowned at the sight of scales stuck there. Yuck.

An hour or so later, which made it well after midnight and some day Stiles would like actually to be asleep at that time of night, he walked into his house to find his dad stripping off his gun belt, yawning, which made Stiles yawn as well.

"I know tomorrow is a Saturday but, really, Stiles?"

"Sorry dad, Lydia, y'know." Vague, be vague, about the girl he supposedly loved.

"She okay?"

Stiles shrugged. "You said you were just running into the station to check on the status of the Jackson investigation. That was hours ago."

The sheriff ran his hand over his head and sighed. "Yeah, about that. Jackson's body disappeared from the morgue."

Stiles managed to look shocked. "Huh. Weird."

"I had to raise holy hell in there. The ambulance attendants have gone missing, too, and I found out they'd only been hired a few weeks ago, so that's not suspicious."

Gerard's men? Probably.

"Well, I'm sure you'll figure it out after a good night's sleep, which is something I'm going for, too. See you for lunch?"

"I'll let you sleep in. You're the MVP, after all."

Grinning, Stiles bade his dad goodnight and took the stairs two at a time to his room. He was a bit surprised and maybe disappointed to find it empty, but, then Peter had said they wouldn't be together here very often, and definitely not with his dad in residence, and Peter had been the one to send him home.

But, they really hadn't spent many nights apart and while Stiles wasn't sure he was up for sex, he'd begun to realize he liked being held when he slept.

As he started to undress, his phone beeped, and he pulled it out of his jeans' pocket to check the message. A smile crossed his face.

*I miss you already*

Quickly he typed back a reply saying the same, then set his phone on the night stand and climbed into bed. He really was tired.

His dreams, though, were of Lydia, and, when he awoke late morning with the sun annoyingly in his eyes, Stiles remembered Peter's promise and the questions in Lydia's eyes the night before, and he eagerly jumped out of bed and hurried through his shower and dressing.

His dad was at the table going over a report on his iPad and frowning as he drank coffee.

"Been up long?"

"A few hours. I got a call from Mr. Whittemore. Jackson's alive."

"Bwhhuh?"

"Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction." Tiredly, the older man rubbed his eyes--it was obvious that while Stiles had slept pretty well, his father hadn't--and set down the tablet. "I have no clue what is happening in this town. I do know I wish you weren't neck-deep in most of it."

Holding up his hands, Stiles back-peddled, "Not me, not this time, promise. I was comforting Lydia, which now appears to have been unnecessary, but, hey, I got Lydia time. Six months ago she didn't know I existed."

"Are you sure you can't...? I mean, she seems like a very nice and smart girl."

"Despite her love for that douchebag, Jackson."

"Language."

"Right, sure. How about jerk off, Jackson? I kind of like that, it's alliterative." That made his dad chuckle, and Stiles went to pour himself a cup of coffee--caffeine didn't have an adverse effect on him anymore but it helped him pretend he still had ADHD. "Anyway, they're not together, but maybe now that he's not dead, I dunno. They might get back together. They might not. I'm not giving up hope."

"Good for you, son."

"So...you don't think she's out of my league?"

The sheriff gave him a surprised look. "You didn't see or hear her cheering for you at the game last night? She wasn't cheering for Whittemore."

Stiles beamed.

Around lunchtime--his dad having gone back into the station to meet with the Whittemores and try to figure out what weird shit had happened to make it seem like the boy was dead--Stiles was eating a sandwich when he got a text about a pack meeting later that afternoon.

At Peter's apartment.

Recalling his mate's statement about rebuilding the Hale mansion, he wondered how soon that would start. The apartment wasn't really big enough to host their growing pack, assuming Jackson would be joining, and Lydia.

He really needed to talk to Lydia.

Another text came in, this one from Scott, who babbled in barely understandable text speak about how he and Allison had broken up but how he had hope that it was only temporary while she got her head on straight--and stopped being a whack job killer, in Stiles' opinion, which he kept to himself--and that her dad was okay with them seeing each other when she was ready because he wasn't evil like his father, though Allison wasn't ready to forgive Derek and didn't understand the whole Stiles/Peter mating thing and he really didn't want to give her the 411...

Reading Scott's texts was exhausting.

Stiles finished his sandwich before responding with a :|

Because he was kind of glad that Scott and Allison were broken up right now. He'd talked to Erica earlier that morning and found out that Allison, over her father's protests, had been the one to shoot her and Boyd full of arrows, even once they were down and Erica had been begging her to stop. Logically he understood how screwed up she'd been by her evil grandpa, and he knew very well how crazed the death of a mom could make one, but you didn't do that kind of shit to Stiles' pack.

It felt good to think of them as his.

Derek was at the apartment already, frowning as he set out a tray of sliced cheese and crackers on the coffee table. It was embellished with sprigs of rosemary.

A big step up from cartons of take-out and pizza boxes or the remains of woodland creatures.

As Stiles shrugged out of his hoodie, Peter came out of the kitchen with a plate of still warm oatmeal raisin cookies, and he stopped to press a kiss to Stiles' mouth, before placing the plate on the table, but not before Stiles snagged one of the perfectly round, perfectly baked perfections.

"Oh god, this is so good," he moaned around the cookie in his mouth. "We're all going to get fat."

"We'll run it off...or work it off in other ways." Peter waggled his eyebrows, Stiles giggled, and Derek looked constipated. Stiles just smirked at him and Derek sighed but slowly smiled back.

Good, it looked like he and Peter were working through their issues.

Isaac came out of the powder room--Peter actually referred to it that way. "Hey, Stiles. There are little soaps shaped like puppies in there, did you know that?"

"Peter has a wry sense of the ironic."

"Ooh, cookies."

Stiles followed his mate back into the kitchen to help fetch a pitcher of lemonade and glasses. "I hope you made plenty of those."

"I remember how much young wolves eat."

"Were you serious about rebuilding the house?"

"Yes and I've talked to Derek about it. Legally it's his, but he accepts that it's time to move out of the past and away from those memories. Rebuilding is not denying our family or their deaths. His parents loved that house. So did I. I don't want it to be completely the same, and it never could, but the Hales have been on that land for nearly two hundred years. We belong there. But, there are a few remaining issues to address first. Hopefully we can start about the time school ends in a few weeks."

"I hope you don't expect me to wield a hammer. I usually end up with sore thumbs or broken toes from dropping the damn thing on them."

Peter grinned. "I'm hiring a contractor. Do I look like I would enjoy manual labor? You do know that before the fire I taught history at the Beacon Hills Community College, right?"

"No, but, y'know, I shouldn't be surprised. It's not like you all just hung out in the forest howling and chasing rabbits."

"We were fully integrated into the town. Since he returned, Derek's been a bad example of a born wolf. I'm working on that with him. He's a bit anti-social."

"You think?" Stiles snorted and lifted the pitcher off the counter and headed back to the living room.

Everyone else had arrived, including Jackson, who looked incredibly uncomfortable, and Lydia who was sitting on the opposite side of the room from him, looking everywhere but at him.

Peter set down a stack of plastic glasses, then held out his hand to the former Kanima, who looked at it hesitantly, before jumping to his feet and shaking it. "I'm Peter Hale, Jackson, Alpha of the Hale Pack. As you were turned by Derek when he was Alpha, you're his, but as he's my Beta now, you're mine as well. I won't force it, though, but I don't allow lone wolves in my territory."

Giving him a confused look, Jackson drew back his hand. "Which means?"

"The whole of Beacon Hills and the Preserve are mine so if you don't join my pack, you'll have to leave. Trust me, you don't want to be an Omega. You have no idea how to control and use your abilities. You need the pack and we need you."

"Why would you need me?"

"I understand you were adopted." At Jackson's hesitant nod, Peter continued, "You were born to at least one werewolf parent, Jackson. You were born to be one of us."

The room had remained silent during Peter's speech but now everyone started babbling at once. Everyone except for Lydia who seemed stunned and Derek who wasn't surprised at all.

"So, is that what the blue eyes signify?"

Turning to his mate, Peter smiled in pride. "Figured that out, did you?"

Stiles shrugged his shoulders. "Well, Derek has them and none of the other bitten werewolves do. Were yours blue?"

"Yep."

"Do you know who my parents were?" Jackson asked in a small voice.

Peter turned back to him and gripped his arm then patted it. "Not yet, but we can look into it. That is if you join our pack."

"...Okay." Instinctively, he bared his throat and Peter leaned in and scented his submission.

"You know what this means," Scott whispered to Isaac, as if anyone but Lydia couldn't hear him. "We're going to win every game next year."

Isaac grinned.

"No, what you're going to do is learn to tone down your abilities so you don't stand out," Peter said, shaking his head at his Betas who looked too smug for their own good. "I played basketball at Beacon Hills High, and, yes, my senior year we won State, but we didn't win every game, and my sophomore year we didn't even make it to regionals. I can and will teach you to integrate better. You've all been lucky." As Isaac and Scott hunched down at their Alpha's light reprimand, Peter nodded in satisfaction that his point had been made, then clapped his hands together. "Everyone help yourselves to food and drink, we have several things to discuss."

The two hour meeting passed quickly. Gerard was missing. Peter believed he had to be dead or at least dying and not going to recover, but he wanted him found. Chris Argent had control over his daughter and Peter had spoken on the phone with him to set a meeting for the next Tuesday to discuss a truce. Scott said that his mom was okay with him now and having a nurse on their side could be useful. There was some discussion about informing the sheriff of the truth, but Stiles wasn't ready for that and Peter agreed it had to be his decision. There was no mention of Derek and Kate and, as the meeting progressed, Derek obviously relaxed to the point he almost smiled a couple times.

As he had with Stiles the night before, Peter petted and scented both Erica and Boyd to remove the smell of Argent, and praised them for their survival. He also apologized for not realizing how far Gerard would go. He'd thought the Preserve would be safe. He also praised Scott for his ingenuity and ability to keep a secret concerning the mountain ash pills.

Sitting back and watching, Stiles began to understand that this was how an Alpha should act with his pack. Derek hadn't been born to it and had so obviously struggled. He'd been too desperate and moved too quickly, too easy with a harsh word or action and giving very little comfort or congratulations. It wasn't his fault, though, and even he was getting something out of the way Peter did things.

It must have been like his mom.

Stiles hoped that, like many of his own memories of his mom, Derek could now remember the good times and not just wallow in the loss and misery of his family.

As the meeting began to wrap up, he realized one person hadn't said a word or been addressed, but before he could think of something to say to her, Erica asked, "Why is Lydia Martin here?"

"I asked her to come," Peter replied. "Lydia, would you like to explain the analysis of the DNA results?"

She looked surprised and sat forward in her chair, her head cocked in mimic of Peter's. Stiles knew that would always be a bit freaky, but he doubted anyone else noticed. "You really want me to tell everyone?"

"The pack doesn't keep secrets this big, and there's going to be need for an explanation anyway." At Peter's minute nod in Stiles' direction, Lydia's eyes widened even further and then she both smiled and nibbled on her lip as she glanced at Jackson. He wasn't even looking at her, though, concentrating on stacking several pieces of cheese and crackers.

"Okay, well, I assume you all know that when Derek killed Peter, and I say killed with the loosest meaning possible, he placed a bit of himself in my brain. It infected my whole body, altering my DNA in ways we don't understand but are quite obvious to the trained eye. I had a geneticist analyze my test results and, while he couldn't explain exactly what the mutations do, they are there and they resemble the distinct differences in a werewolf's DNA. Before you all freak out, I didn't send off anyone else's results, but it was easy enough to compare Stiles' and Peter's to my own and, before you ask, it was easy enough to get hair samples without you knowing." She ignored Stiles and Peter's very similar disgruntled looks.

"Stiles and Peter share two of the differences with me, and Peter and I share the third. He has two other mutated genes from normal human, probably due to being born a werewolf. The changes in me enabled me to bring Peter back using magic, but the mutated genes continued to affect me. A part of me is Peter. At least, a part of me that has to do with Stiles."

Most of the pack frowned in confusion, but Derek seemed to understand. "Lydia? Give me an order."

Cocking her head again, Lydia demanded, "Derek, come here."

He was halfway across the room to her before anyone, including himself, realized it. Shaking off the order and jamming his hands into his jeans' pockets, he turned to his uncle. "When I stop thinking about her as Lydia, when she looks a certain way and speaks a certain way, it's like she's you, Peter, or rather she's my Alpha."

"Yes. Somehow I left a bit of the Alpha wolf in her mutated genes."

"Wait, so Lydia's like you somehow and can order us around?" Scott whined, making Stiles want to throw up his hands in defeat at his best friend, like ordering people around was all an Alpha did.

"She could, but she won't," Peter said strongly, and, if you knew to see it, Lydia shifted back to herself and nodded in agreement.

"That's the last thing I want. I only want..." Her eyes went to Stiles, then to Peter, questioning.

Peter was sitting in an easy chair, Stiles perched on the arm as was becoming their custom, and he took his mate's hand, smiling down at him. "Thank you, Peter," he whispered.

It was obvious his Alpha wasn't thrilled but he was accepting. He addressed the entire pack rather than just Lydia. "I haven't explained much about mating and I'm not going to go into the details. Either you'll find your own mates in time or you won't. It doesn't happen to every bitten werewolf, nor even to every born one, and you can be perfectly happy without one. Two of the facts of mating are, though, that it's for life and it's monogamous. Mated wolves can't even feel physical attraction to anyone else. Except..." He sighed softly and squeezed Stiles' hand. "Stiles sees me in Lydia and is attracted to her, and she sees the Alpha Mate in him and returns the feelings."

Even Derek was surprised by that as he obviously hadn't made that connection, but the rest of the pack erupted into questions and babbling, until Peter barked 'enough' and they all shut up.

"While I firmly believe I can make Stiles happy all on my own, the attraction and desire he's felt for Lydia for years remains and it's not going to fade now that she returns them."

Jackson finally seemed to realize some of what was going on and he looked over at Lydia who shrugged a bit sadly. "So, we're really over? But, you had to love me or..."

"I do, Jackson. Maybe I always will, as my first love, but the fact is that the Alpha in me is mated and I can't want anyone else."

"But Stilinski?" he asked incredulously.

Lydia and Peter both scowled in exactly identical ways.

"Freaky," Boyd whistled and several others nodded, staring wide eyed.

"The rest of this will be between Stiles, Lydia and I, but I don't want you to be surprised if the two of them are together sometimes. In fact, she makes the perfect so-called beard while Stiles is underage."

"I should resent that but since you're obviously giving us the okay to be together, I won't," Lydia replied with a certain amount of satisfaction in her voice.

Stiles just sat there blushing.

As the pack began to clear out, Lydia went to talk to Jackson, and Derek stopped Stiles as he started to clean up. He shuffled uncomfortably and huffed out a breath as Stiles patiently waited.

"You can use your words." Okay, not so patiently.

Derek glared, then huffed again. "You realize how very weird this is, right?" He didn't wait for an acknowledgment. "But, my uncle, the one from before the fire, he would have done this. He would have done anything to make his mate happy, but then he loved Marta and she loved him. I wouldn't have expected this new Peter...It has to be hard for him. Mated wolves don't share."

"I know and I've told him that I'm okay with just him, but he knows I still want her. I can't help it. It's not even the same as it was when I just had a crush. It's too intense for that and that's because she's my mate, too. My wolf even accepts it now and it didn't at first because it was so confusing. I don't want to hurt Peter, though."

Derek's eyebrows went up in surprise. "You really mean that."

"Yeah. I know, it's not even been two weeks and I was so scared at first, but...Just look at this meeting today. He's changed and we can all see it. I watched you, and I could see that you grew more and more comfortable. This is a pack and he's an Alpha as he was meant to be. He's not the murdering rogue any more. He's hardly even gotten angry with me. I know it's not going to ever be perfect because what relationship is, but I'm not unhappy, Derek. I haven't been since pretty much the second day."

"Yeah, I see that. You're so stubborn I'm surprised, but, then, when I look at Peter now, he's my uncle again, and maybe a lot of that is due to you."

"It is." Peter came up behind them, startling them both as they'd both been so deep into their conversation. Wrapping his arms around Stiles, he pressed a kiss to his shoulder blade which sent a shiver of contentment through the younger man. "What I did to survive brought us to this point so I'm accepting Lydia's place in our relationship. While I may always be jealous, I'm also not cruel and she's mated to Stiles as well as I am. It's not fair to her to keep them apart, and I owe her so much."

Lydia joined them, overhearing the last bit of Peter's quiet speech. "Thank you, Peter. I promise not to make a lot of demands on Stiles. I have a feeling that neither of us share well, but we can learn for his sake, right?"

Peter nodded.

"I'm going to head out," Derek said, backing away from the threesome with a nod to all of them. "I'll patrol looking for Gerard and put Isaac on Jackson training for now. He's been the quickest learner of all the Betas, though now that Scott's accepted an Alpha he's gotten a lot better."

"Jackson's hurting over me. I tried to explain but I don't think he really understood. If you could help him, Derek..."

Nodding at Lydia, Derek slipped out of the apartment, leaving the three of them alone.

Almost as one they moved to the dining room to sit around the table, Peter and Lydia automatically taking the head and foot and Stiles sitting on the side closer to Peter. Lydia was the one to break the silence.

"So, how will this work?"

"I have absolutely no idea," Peter admitted. "I think it has to happen organically. We can't force anything. I've forced enough with Stiles," he added ruefully.

"Yes, you did."

Stiles felt like thunking his head on the table and they'd only been talking for twenty seconds. "We're past that. Let's move past that, 'k?"

"I think Stiles and I should start publically dating. You were right about the beard idea. It'll keep any suppositions far away from you until he's eighteen. I turn eighteen two months before he will which will be after graduation by, what a couple weeks?" Stiles nodded. "By then we'll know what is working and what isn't. I hope that we'll have learned to get along well enough that we can all live together. I understand and I accept that I will only ever desire Stiles. I'm actually fine with that. Every other boy in school is an idiot compared to him."

"He is very intelligent." Peter beamed proudly.

"He's sitting right here," Stiles grumbled, making the other two snort in exactly the same way. "Boyd's right, that's freaky."

As Peter indulgently patted his hand, Lydia narrowed her eyes shrewdly. "So, what's the catch, Peter?"

"I don't know. I don't know how I'll handle any of this. I think we're going to have to take it day by day. I do know I'm possessive and jealous. I'm not sure I can take you monopolizing his time, so we may need to make a schedule."

"A time chart. That works for me."

"Oh geez..."

"Do you have anything reasonable to add or are you just going to mumble and mutter to yourself?"

He looked at Lydia, then Peter and moved his chair equal distance between them. "I think you're both going to drive me nuts."

Similar snorts sounded again and Stiles gave in and thumped his forehead down on the table, leaving it there.

"While our mate is having some kind of breakdown," Peter teased softly, "I do have a question for you, Lydia." His voice grew serious. "How do you feel knowing that I've made love to Stiles several times since claiming him the night of my rebirth? Have you been jealous? Wounded? Angry?"

Stiles peeked at her and saw her slowly shake her head. "I've been lonely. It doesn't bother me that you've been with him so maybe, for me, the sharing won't be difficult after all. Where you're concerned, I've seen him change so quickly from that first grudging acceptance to someone really enjoying sex. I know he's happy with you and, after listening to you and seeing you interacting with your pack, I think I understand why. You, this you, is so different from the creepy one in my head. You're more like teenage you. I liked that boy. Maybe I can grow to like this adult version, too, but if you hurt Stiles..."

"I can't. I don't want to. You feel like an Alpha but you don't have a wolf. If you did, you'd understand how much he means to me, how he's everything to me."

"It's harder for me to accept what you can so naturally, yes, but I've been trying to understand it, what draws me to him, and I have accepted it's real and not going to go away. I think if you hadn't said yes soon, I'd have had to leave Beacon Hills. It was becoming too painful not to touch him."

Stiles could feel himself flushing and sat back up, licking his suddenly dry lips. "You really want me or is just the Alpha?"

"Is it okay if it's both? I can't tell the difference any more, and I know a part of me is a selfish bitch and I don't want to be alone. You're it for me and I'm not going to fight that because it's a waste of energy. I don't know if I'll ever love you, Stiles. I know you've had a crush on me forever, but you don't really know me. That's not love for you, not really. And I can't believe Peter loves you yet, either. If we let this evolve, as Peter said, organically, maybe love will come. I can guarantee the sex will be fantastic."

Stiles couldn't help grinning as her words brought with them the first heat of arousal. Silently he tried to will himself from getting an inappropriate boner. Really not the right time.

"I'm impressed, Lydia." Peter side-eyed Stiles as he spoke, and his mate ducked his head in embarrassment because, of course he knew. "You're farther along in your understanding of the mate dynamics than I expected. For me, once my wolf accepted the fact that you exist as some kind of extension of it, it was easy, well, easier for me to accept as well. Maybe the jealousy won't be as bad as I fear. Maybe it won't exist at all and we can share him without tension."

"I've always been very advanced for my age," she preened, making Stiles choke back a laugh.

"We'll make this work, for Stiles' sake."

There were nods all around the table.

During the next two weeks school ended, Stiles and Lydia officially became a couple and started dating--much to his dad's delight and the pack's continued confusion--Gerard's desiccated body was found deep inside a cave in the Preserve, Allison started attempting to make amends, though she still wasn't back with Scott, and Derek sometimes even smiled as he became human again.

The pack trained and bonded, even Jackson integrating pretty well, though he still occasionally moped over Lydia. The blame for his 'near death' was being placed on the suspiciously missing EMTs and the Sheriff closed the file.

Things calmed down in Beacon Hills enough that Peter began to interview contractors and have architectural plans drawn up. He also was making contact with neighboring packs, ones the old Hale Pack had bonds of blood and treaties with, and Stiles caught him matchmaking Derek a couple times like an old Yenta.

Stiles and Peter were together a couple nights a week. More wasn't possible as the Sheriff mostly worked days again now that there weren't murderous lizards and rogue werewolves around to up the town's body count, but Stiles hoped that with school out, his dad would be lax about curfew and he could get away with the 'staying with Scott' excuse more. With him dating Lydia hopefully his dad would be okay with him just being out all night sometimes.

He and Lydia hadn't done more than kiss a few times on their dates and Stiles was very careful to monitor Peter's reactions, but the Alpha really did seem okay with the kissing and touching. Not wanting to push him, though, they didn't do it much in his presence. Still, Stiles wasn't going to go farther with her without getting Peter's, well, not permission because that was too weird, but approval. Or, just letting him know because he didn't want to hide anything.

"So, tonight," Peter repeated, meeting Stiles' eyes, his wolf pleased that his mate didn't duck his head submissively, but met him as an equal more and more. He knew this wasn't defiance nor was Stiles asking permission, and he approved of that courtesy. "I appreciate you telling me."

"Right thing to do, right?"

"Yes." Peter set aside the blueprints he'd been viewing at the dining room table and walked to where Stiles stood just inside the doorway. Cupping his cheeks, he pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "Enjoy yourself, but I really don't want the details."

Stiles flushed but nodded, then kissed him back. "Thank you, Peter."

"No need. It's the right thing to do. I'm content with this decision. It's enough."

"Okay. I'll see you tomorrow for training and then, maybe dinner?" There was a bit of hesitation in Stiles' voice, a bit of wistfulness, and Peter's brow furrowed.

"Are you sure you want this?"

"Yeah, but not if you don't, Peter. I don't want to hurt you."

"A month ago you would have been happy to see me dead again. We've come a long way..."

"Just don't call me baby," Stiles interrupted, his lips twisting into a smirk. Peter grinned and drew him into a deep kiss.

"I really am okay, Stiles. My wolf's in the driver's seat. It wants our mate to feel happy and whole. Lydia will only add to what you already feel for us. I know that now."

"So does she. I worried the two of you would like fight over me or something, but this can work, right?"

"It will work." Stepping back, Peter reached into his pants' pocket and drew out a couple foil wrapped squares. "Just remember you're only sixteen."

Blushing, Stiles protested, "Only for another week, but, yeah, I can see both of you killing me if I get her knocked up now! Oh, and my dad would so help."

As they both chuckled, he stuck the condoms in his pocket, then, with a smile at his Alpha, left the apartment.

Stiles worried it would be awkward or weird, but none of it was. Lydia picked the restaurant and ordered steak for him--he enjoyed red meat a lot more than he had before becoming a werewolf--and fish for herself, in French. They talked about everything but what was going to happen later, laughing easily, even lightly discussing Peter and Jackson.

Her mom was out on her own date and had informed Lydia she didn't plan to be home till the next day, so they went to her place. The bedroom was just as Stiles remembered it, but the bed was turned down and as he sat on one side, Lydia lit a couple unscented candles and put on some soft music, then turned off the lamp and closed the curtains.

Then she straddled his lap and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Stiles cupped her hips to keep her from falling, and they kissed softly.

"I've only been with Jackson," she admitted when their lips parted, both of them breathing a bit harder.

"I've only been with Peter."

"So I really am your first woman?"

He nodded and smiled slightly. "And I'm your first wolf."

"Just don't claw up my sheets. They're eight hundred thread count Egyptian cotton."

Of course they were. Stiles had no idea what any of that meant but he figured it meant expensive. He kissed her again and she pushed him back on the bed, pressing her knees against his waist and tickling his nose with her long hair before she rose and pulled her top over her head, leaving her in a lacy pink bra.

Stiles may have drooled a bit, then he grunted and arched into her when she lifted her skirt and revealed she was naked beneath it. "Oh...fuck..." He was already cement-drilling hard. The hair between her legs--red like that on her head--was trimmed into a heart shape and it was wet. With a laugh she pulled the skirt over her head as well, then slipped out of her bra and kicked off her shoes.

"Now, since you're a sixteen..."

"Nearly seventeen," he gasped out, making her roll her eyes and smack her hand across his chest.

"Whatever. You're a teenage boy. I assume you've seen lots of porn and not just gay porn." As he nodded, eyes goggling at her naked breasts which swayed above him when she rotated her pelvis against his crotch. "So, do I need to explain how to eat me out?"

Stiles avidly shook his head and grabbed her hips to pull her up over his chest until she was kneeling over his face and, god, she smelled so good. A hint of citrus mixed with musk and heat. Experimentally, he flicked his tongue out and tasted her. It was different than Peter, but good, so good. He licked her again and maybe he hit her clitoris because Lydia moaned above him and her thighs trembled against his cheeks. "Yeah, right there."

Must have been right. He licked there again and used the tip of his tongue to map out the swelling nub before lapping at it, cautiously at first, until she encouraged him to go harder and he saw her hands cup her own breasts, her thumbs flicking her hard nipples.

Oh Jesus, he was going to come in his pants. Trying to control his throbbing dick and breathe as well, he licked and kissed up and down her hot, wet cleft, paying most attention to her clit until Lydia cried out and pressed her hips down, smashing his nose against the bone just above her cleft and his lips around her clit. Just as he figured passing out might be an issue--but what a way to go--she shuddered and more slippery liquid covered his tongue and dripped down his chin.

When Lydia toppled off him, Stiles gasped for breath, but knew he was grinning stupidly. His cock was still hard as a rock so he hadn't come, which meant...

"Good, that was really good," Lydia moaned, one hand slowly caressing a breast, the other gliding over her heaving stomach. "Get your clothes off now."

"Yes ma'am." He couldn't help himself. She was more an Alpha than Peter! Scrambling to his feet, Stiles yanked at his clothes and tried not to fall over or get stuck in any of them. He had a moment of panic as his pants caught around his ankles, then remembered to toe off his shoes so he could get out of them. His cock was trapped by his boxer briefs and he was careful to ease the elastic over the sensitive head, then dropped them to his ankles and kicked them aside. Naked, he clamored back onto the bed, then saw her pointing and followed the direction of her fingers. "Oh, yeah, socks." He flushed and pulled them off, flinging them in random directions, then remembered the condoms and leaned over the side of the bed for his pants. As he found the rubbers, he felt Lydia's hand caressing his ass, and nearly came again.

When he turned back to her, he saw her watching him from beneath thick lashed, lusty eyes. "So, as a werewolf, how's your stamina?"

"Um...I'm not going to last long, sorry, but refraction times almost non-existent."

He liked the predatory smile that crossed her lips, then she snapped her fingers towards the condoms. "Give me one of those. Keep the other one handy." Obeying, he scooted toward her on his knees, and watched her tear the foil and take out the rubber circle. He was so slick with pre-cum, there was no need for lube, and Lydia sat up enough to pull him towards her and slide the condom down his dick.

Praying he wouldn't come from her fingers alone, Stiles panted harshly to get himself under control, then let her move him between her spread legs. Kind of surprised she didn't want to be on top, he had enough sense left not to mention that because he really wanted to do this the first time the traditional way. Her hands on his ass and her legs wrapping around the backs of his thighs pulled him closer and Stiles braced his hands on either side of her, and thrust forward.

Naturally, he missed the first time, and when she laughed, he turned red and started to twitch away, but she shook her head. "No, not laughing at you. Sex should be funny sometimes. Come on, it'll be great." Her fingers wrapped around the base of his cock and guided him to her entrance and he thrust again and this time...

"Oh holy fuck!"

Being fucked was super fantastic, but this...Being inside her...She was so tight and hot and wet--he could feel her even through the condom--and her muscles did something to make him see stars. Stiles knew it wasn't going to be pretty and he was going to come really fast, but his hips wriggled and pumped and her hands guided him and her hips rose to meet his and they were fucking.

And then, with a shout and a shudder, he was coming in hard spurts that left him weak and breathless and collapsed on her, panting into her really perfect breasts. Dimly he felt her stroking his head and all he could do was grin and mumble, "That was fantastic." Slowly he tilted his head to look up at her and found her cocking an eyebrow at him. "Um...?"

"Lesson number one. Girls don't usually come just from the fucking." Since Lydia wasn't frowning, didn't sound angry, and was, in fact watching him with amused indulgence, Stiles pulled away from her and pushed himself up onto trembling knees. He caught the condom before it slipped off.

"Oops?"

Lydia chuckled and showed him how to tie off and dispose of the used rubber, then drew him down next to her. As their legs entwined, she caressed his chest, teasing his nipples and scratching through the trail of hair down his stomach. "You know, those baggy shirts really don't do you justice. We're going to have to go to the mall in a couple of days so I can dress you."

"Must we?" Stiles whined, then caught his breath as her hand found his cock and it began to harden again.

"Peter will thank me. The man has good sartorial taste. And, yes, I do appreciate your short refraction time, but this round, play with my clit while you're fucking me, okay?"

"How come I never knew you had a dirty mouth?"

"I'm a lady outside of the bedroom." Leaning forward she pressed a heated kiss to his mouth, then murmured, "And I'm yours inside it."

"Okay, yeah, I'm really good with that," he laughed and kissed her hungrily.

This time he wasn't surprised at all when Lydia rolled him onto his back and climbed on top of him with the other condom in hand. He also didn't mind a bit.

Stiles found Peter sitting on the half-burned porch of the Hale Mansion, watching Derek tossing the other Betas around what used to be the front yard. Parking the jeep half mile out, he'd walked in, wondering how this was going to go. Would Peter really be okay?

"Lydia didn't come with you?"

"Um...no?"

"Stiles. It really is okay." He patted the step next to him and Stiles went to sit, then leaned into his Alpha, pressing his nose against his neck.

"I thought maybe I'd feel like I should apologize, but I don't. My wolf was with its mate. I felt like I was with my mate. I mean, I knew it was Lydia and it was very different, but it felt right."

"I'm glad," Peter murmured, rubbing his own nose over Stiles' forehead. "You smell like me."

He sounded surprised and Stiles was as well. "Huh. I only took one shower and figured you'd end up rolling all over me to scent me again."

"One more quirk, I guess." Lifting his head, Peter smiled and gently kissed Stiles, then gave him a nudge towards the battling Betas. "Go on, join them."

"There should be perks for sleeping with the Alpha," Stiles grumbled but grinned through it.

"Oh, there are. You knock Derek on his ass and I'll let you fuck my mouth," Peter teased, his voice low and husky with promise.

Across the yard Scott made a face and let out a loud, "Gross", but Stiles ignored him, already loping towards Derek, who turned, crouched and waited.

That was quite a prize. While Peter gave him blowjobs, Stiles was always on his back so his mate could control the depth and speed of his thrusts. One of his greatest fantasies was Peter on his knees or back and Stiles pumping into his mouth like a jackhammer.

Too distracted, half-hard, he was knocked onto his back by Derek barely flicking a finger at him.

"You're going to be an old man before you get to do that, Stilinski," the head Beta smirked and jerked Stiles to his feet then did the 'come get me' hand gesture.

Stiles concentrated and charged...

Behind him Peter shouted encouragement, from down the road he heard Lydia's car approaching, and around him his pack battled good naturedly. The land was returning to life and in a few years the rebuilt mansion would be filled with cubs and a strong, happy pack. And, maybe the relationship begun with threats and dark promises would be solidified by love. A love between three life-long mates.

Everything felt so right.

The End

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