Chapter Text
Stiles drove home. He knew himself well enough to know he wouldn’t be able to focus at school and that his current level of edginess meant his control would be more easily compromised. Instead, he would start researching. He would still have to go back to the building to pick up Isaac since they rode there together this morning, but that was later.
Once he arrived home, he sent a quick text to Isaac to let him know that all was well and that while he wouldn’t be returning to class, he would still pick him up. Isaac immediately sent back an acknowledgement and Stiles settled down at his computer to research and cracked his knuckles.
Time to get his google-fu on. He had a monster to catch.
Two hours later, Stiles side-eyed his computer screen and wondered if having to pay to replace it would be worth the satisfaction of banging his head against it until something cracked. Supernatural healing meant he could heal any damage. His computer wouldn’t be so fortunate. Eventually he sighed and shoved himself away to leave. As he stomped to the door, he muttered to himself frustratedly.
Nothing! He had found absolutely nothing! Or rather, he had found so much that it was about as useful as finding nothing. The sheer amount of supernatural creatures that could hunt humans was both mind boggling and sickening. Add in the ones that normally wouldn’t bother humans but could deal that kind of damage if they had gone mad for some psychological or pharmacological reason and Stiles didn’t even have a list of possible options.
Even removing all the creatures that were statistically unlikely for size reasons barely narrowed it down.
So Stiles was feeling somewhat grumpy as he pulled up in his jeep. He tried to hide it as best as he could when Isaac walked up though. His newest beta had a tendency to flinch into himself if authority figures were angry around him, regardless of where that anger was actually directed, and Stiles had felt like an utter piece of shit the one time it had happened before when he had gotten a little heated in a rant about an idiotic driver.
However, despite his best efforts, Isaac’s eyes flicked over Stiles’s slightly tense posture, and he hesitated in the open door.
“Hey Isaac,” Stiles said, deliberately casual. “Sorry, I’m just frustrated at the lack of results my research turned up.”
Isaac nodded, relaxed, and held out Stiles’s backpack with a wry grin.
“I think you forgot this.”
Stiles blinked at it and then shut his eyes with a self-deprecating sigh.
“Yep. I definitely did. And then proceeded to not give it another thought. Thanks Isaac, I really appreciate it.”
Isaac settled into the passenger seat and leaned over happily when Stiles drew him into a hug, rubbing his cheek over the top of his head.
Isaac practically melted into his seat afterwards, as content as he always was after such claiming and comforting gestures.
“So?” he asked. “What did you find out? Your text was pretty limited in details.”
“Not much,” Stiles grumbled good-naturedly. “It’s definitely supernatural and something fairly dangerous, but I’m no closer to figuring out what it even is, much less how to stop it.”
“You’ll figure it out,” Isaac said confidently. “You always do.”
Stiles glanced sideways at him, touched, even as he felt the weight of that faith and responsibility settle more firmly on his shoulders.
“Thanks.”
Stiles’s dad and Peter got back fairly late that evening. Not that Stiles was surprised. He had expected it and hadn’t held dinner, eating something simple with Isaac while they worked on homework. His dad always ended up working late when a big case came up, and this one certainly met that criteria.
Stiles’s nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed as they walked in. He could smell the distinctive scent of the grease from his dad’s favorite burger place.
“Hank’s Burgers? Really dad?” he demanded, hands on his hips.
His dad dodged him with a whistle that was clearly supposed to sound innocent but was actually anything but.
“Hey there Isaac!” John greeted loudly. “How are you doing? How was school?”
Isaac sent him a look, even as a grin tugged at the corner of his lips.
“Oh no, you’re not dragging me into this,” he said. “I don’t see a to-go bag which means you don’t even have a bribe for me.”
“Dammit,” John muttered. “I knew I was forgetting something.”
“You know how unhealthy that place is, dad!” Stiles exclaimed finally. “I thought we agreed to only go once a month, together! Our next time isn’t until next week!”
Peter started sniggering, and Stiles whirled on him, pointing an accusatory finger.
“Don’t even start, Mr. Aiding-and-Abetting! Don’t think I can’t smell the hamburgers on you too!
Peter held up his hands in mock surrender, and adopted an expression so excessively piteous and apologetic that Stiles wavered in his rant and had to try and hide the twitching at the corner of his lip.
Isaac snorted into a cup of water, and Stiles sighed.
“Fine, but just know that Isaac and I are getting hamburgers together next week, just the two of us and neither of you two back-stabbers are invited. We’ll get the triple stacked burgers with all the special toppings too, and large milkshakes.”
Isaac perked up. “Hey, you guys should go there without us more often!”
Stiles rolled his eyes and poked Isaac’s shoulder. “You’re not helping.”
Isaac just grinned up at him shamelessly. John stepped up to Stiles and gave him a hug, smiling apologetically.
“Sorry to go without you, but I needed a pick me up after that case.”
Stiles hugged him back tightly, that comment knocking the last bits of self-righteous wind out of his sails. He took a deep breath, reassured by his dad’s scent, healthy and hale as always.
“I get it,” Stiles said. “But that does remind me.”
He pulled away from his dad slightly reluctantly and straightened up, meeting both Peter and Isaac’s eyes. His betas straightened as well, sensing the shift in mood. His dad also lost the traces of levity the previous conversation had inspired.
“There’s a threat in our territory.” Stiles began without preamble. “It’s already proven itself extremely dangerous and difficult to track, given that we neither noticed it entering the territory, nor were able to track it away from the crime scene. Therefore, we’re going to do a few things. First, we will be patrolling every night to try and catch a trace of it. Those patrols will occur in pairs without exception.”
Stiles pinned Peter with a firm look when the older beta shifted like he thought that order wouldn’t apply to him.
“Without exception, Peter. I know you’ve patrolled alone while I’m at school and that’s going to stop until we know more. I’m also guilty of occasionally patrolling by myself when I want to go for a run, and I will be stopping as well. Until we have a better idea of what this thing is capable of, I want us to always have backup and support. We’ll try to have training sessions to hone our combat skills whenever we have time, but patrolling and potentially catching this thing has to take priority.”
Stiles turned to glance between his dad and Peter next.
“Dad, I know you’ll be investigating this thing from the mundane side of things at work. Do what you can, but avoid unnecessary risks. And when you do have to take a risk, let Peter or I know. Preferably both of us. Peter, I want you to stay close to my dad while he’s at work so he has support if something comes up. You can bring your computer with you and work in your car in the parking lot outside the station if you like. Mooch off their Wi-Fi.”
Stiles’s dad muttered something about improper use of station resources under his breath, but Stiles ignored him and continued.
“I want you to follow my dad if he has to leave on a call and keep an ear and eye out.”
Peter nodded solemnly, understanding the amount of faith Stiles was placing in him by trusting him to keep his dad safe when honestly, Stiles didn’t want to let him out of his sight. But his dad frowned at the instructions.
“I don’t need a babysitter, Stiles.” he said, crossing his arms. “I’m not exactly helpless.”
“It’s not a babysitter,” Stiles replied, unwilling to budge on this matter. “Peter won’t be telling you what to do or even getting in your way. He’s just there in case the thing that has proven itself capable of killing humans —in horribly gruesome ways, I might add— shows up. I know you’re not helpless. Trust me, I of all people should know how much damage a determined human can do to an unsuspecting supernatural.”
“Truth,” Peter muttered wryly.
Stiles shot him an apologetic grimace. He honestly hadn’t been intending to reference his participation in killing Peter. Peter just shrugged easily.
“Water under the bridge, Stiles. Your ruthlessness and tenacity were as admirable then as they are now.”
Stiles smiled faintly and returned his attention to his dad who looked somewhat mollified.
“Anyways,” he continued. “It’s mostly just a precaution. At least accept it for my peace of mind.”
His dad sighed and relaxed his arms.
“Something tells me I don’t have much of a choice in this matter.”
Stiles shrugged apologetically, but didn’t refute that statement.
“Very well,” his dad said. “I can’t say I like it, but I do understand.”
Stiles nodded. “Does everyone understand our plan moving forward? Subject as it is to adaptation, should we discover new information?”
His dad nodded. Peter and Isaac briefly flashed their throats in obedience and submission.
“Yes Alpha,” Peter said easily, quickly echoed by Isaac.
Stiles relaxed. “Great. Oh, and Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Will you keep an extra eye out for any strange reports?” Stiles asked. “Anything, no matter how small, could be a clue to figuring out what this is.”
His dad nodded slowly, thinking. “I can probably do that. I’m not sure what counts as strange though.”
“If you’re not sure, just let me know anyways. I rather have too many potential leads than miss something important.”
When his dad nodded again, Stiles clapped his hands together briefly and turned to his betas.
“Well, as fun as that was, time to move on. Isaac, you still have some English work to complete right?”
Isaac scowled down at the book in front of him. “Unfortunately,” he confirmed.
Stiles snorted. “Right. Well, I’m finished. Peter, take a minute to use the restroom, grab a drink, whatever you need to do, and then we’ll go patrol.”
Peter inclined his head gracefully and slipped out of the room.
John sent Stiles a concerned look. “Promise me you’ll be careful out there, son.”
Stiles pulled him into another hug.
“I promise.”
The patrol turned up absolutely nothing. Stiles had combed every inch of the border with Peter, and neither of them had smelled or seen any trace of an intruder. As a result, Stiles was in a bad mood the next day. His wolf was on edge, extremely displeased with the presence of a murderous trespasser in his territory. On the very slightly bright side, the fact that the combined forces of Stiles and Peter turned up nothing meant that Stiles could rule out a few options that would not be able to cross the border undetected. However, those options had definitely not been anywhere near the top of his list of possibilities, so it was a shallow victory at best and Stiles was mostly frustrated.
And scared, he admitted to himself in the privacy of his thoughts. His dad, his pack, his people were in danger, and he was responsible for protecting them.
The mangled body in the medical examiner's freezer evidenced his first failure. While he recognized the futility of the goal, Stiles was determined not to let it happen again, and he could feel the weight of that responsibility like a physical burden.
Troubled by heavy thoughts and countless half-formed plans, Stiles forgot about Scott until the other alpha jogged up to him as soon as he entered the school building, Isaac’s watchful presence two steps behind.
“Stiles!” Scott said. “What happened with your dad?”
Stiles flicked a glance around to make sure they were alone enough to speak relatively freely, and pulled Scott aside, out of the way of general school traffic. Scott followed his tugs with an expression that clearly said he was indulging Stiles rather than agreeing with the necessity. Stiles bit the inside of his cheek but kept the rant about the critical nature of secrecy and discretion contained.
Isaac, at least, —bless the boy— adopted a stance in the hallway that would seem casual, but would further direct traffic away from Stiles and Scott. Stiles shot him a grateful smile and the back of his beta’s neck pinked as he turned away and made a show of being distracted by his phone.
“A guy was killed by something that was definitely something supernatural,” Stiles hissed quietly in answer, grimacing at the memory. Desensitized or not, it still hadn’t been a pretty sight.
“I don’t have any clue what it was though,” Stiles continued, knowing his annoyance was clear, but not bothering to hide it.
Scott frowned. “Should I go and take a look then? Maybe there’s something that you missed since you don’t have supernatural senses.” he grinned at the thought. “I bet I could sneak into the crime scene. That might be fun actually.”
Stiles shook his head, hiding his scowl at the evidence that Scott wasn’t taking this seriously. “No need. Peter was free, so I asked him to meet me there. He couldn’t find anything either and he has a ton of experience with supernatural sleuthing.”
“Oh.” Scott’s face fell. “Alright then. I guess we’ll just keep an eye out then. Let me know when you figure out what it was. I’ll tell the rest of the pack to be careful and stay on guard.”
With that, Scott turned and ran off to join a group of new arrivals that contained Allison, Lydia, and Jackson.
Stiles watched him go with a sigh. It wasn’t like his plans were really that more in depth than being careful and keeping an eye out, but it was somehow frustrating to watch Scott carry on without showing any of the stress Stiles felt at the situation.
Isaac bumped his shoulder gently with a concerned look. Stiles mustered up a weak smile and bumped him back, just hard enough to jostle the other boy. Isaac gave him a mock offended look, and knocked their shoulders together hard enough that Stiles sidestepped.
They play-fought, shoving each other back and forth all the way to their next class. By the time they reached the doorway, Stiles’s cheeks hurt from grinning so widely and his spirits were raised. New determination rose within him, and he caught Isaac’s eye.
“Make sure you get your homework done early tonight. I want to patrol with you tonight. We’re going to catch this bastard.”
Isaac shot him a grin that was just slightly sharper than a human would achieve and dipped his head in a nod of acquiescence.
Lofty ideals aside, Stiles and Isaac saw no sign of the intruder. Neither did Peter and Isaac when they patrolled the next night. Or Stiles and Peter the night after that. And while Stiles's dad passed along any reports that looked unusual, Stiles couldn't find any leads there either. A week passed in a frustrating combination of stress and monotony. It wore on them, being on edge for so long, and by the time the full moon rolled around, Isaac’s first since joining Stiles’s pack, they were all more than ready for a break.
Stiles had warred with the decision, unsure if it was truly a good idea to have a carefree day with the threat that was still out there. However, the tension that had made its home in Peter’s shoulders and the twitchiness that Isaac was slowly developing convinced him that they needed it.
As an added bonus, the full moon would fall on a Saturday this month, so they could quite literally take the day off and spend it relaxing together. After patrolling in pairs every night since the murder and squeezing in combat training whenever schedules allowed, the time off would be good for them.
Peter greeted the news that they would spend the day in an informal full moon celebration with a small smile, fond and genuine.
But Isaac frowned slightly and shifted in place.
“We’re going for a run tonight? Under the full moon?” he asked skeptically. “Isn’t that kinda dangerous? What if we lose control?”
Stiles hummed, organizing his thoughts. “First off, yes. You’re partially right. Running on the full moon by yourself with poor control or with people who all have poor control is dangerous. Or at least recklessly stupid. But Peter and I have strong control. We’ve done this the last two full moons with no problem. From what I’ve seen, your control is also sufficient, and even if it wasn’t, you’ll be with us. We won’t let you go crazy.”
Isaac nodded slowly, but didn’t look entirely convinced.
Stiles pulled him into a hug and Isaac leaned into him heavily, but tension lingered in his stiff posture. Stiles ducked his head to nose along Isaac’s temple and reached up to scratch his fingernails through the short hairs at the back of Isaac’s neck.
“Trust me,” Stiles said softly. “I won't let anything happen.”
Isaac hesitated, still tense, for a couple moments before sagging into him with a sigh. He curled into Stiles and pressed his nose into Stiles’s collarbone, tucking his head under Stiles’s chin.
“Okay,” he whispered.
Stiles held him for a little while longer, letting Isaac bask in the closeness and easy comfort. After a couple minutes though, he gently pulled away. He still had something he needed to do to get ready for tomorrow. Namely, go to the grocery store.
His dad had definitely been correct when he predicted the amount of food that a pack of werewolves would go through. It really was a good thing that Peter was willing to help with the grocery bill. Stiles and his dad were comfortable financially-wise, but they weren’t rich by any means, and the amount of money that now had to be devoted to food was frankly ridiculous.
Speaking of which, Stiles glanced around for Peter, but the older man had apparently left the room at some point during his interaction with Isaac. Stiles frowned, but shrugged and grabbed the grocery list off the fridge. He had a couple things to add and then he would see if his first beta would be interested in accompanying him on his errands.
The day of the full moon was a resounding success. Stiles’s dad had made sure that he had the day off as well, and the four of them played all manner of games, ate way too much food, and watched a couple movies while piled together on the couch.
Peter, of course, was as cool as a cucumber the whole day, relaxing into the casualness of the day and snarking playfully at anyone who dared banter with him. Isaac, however, fluctuated between relaxation and tension throughout the day. He would frequently forget the moon, distracted by the comfortable atmosphere, but occasionally he would tense up as he remembered.
Stiles made sure to stay close to the younger wolf, clasping a firm hand around his nape each time he started to stress out. The dominance and implicit reassurance in the touch served to sooth his beta, but as the evening drew closer, Isaac’s nerves grew, and his stress started to become more common than relaxation.
By the time they were eating dinner, —another large beef roast in what was quickly becoming a full moon tradition— Stiles was practically sitting on the same chair as Isaac, pressing their sides together from shoulder to ankles. Isaac was still tense, sitting slightly hunched and flicking nervous glances at the window.
Peter and John frequently gave Isaac concerned looks and dinner was quieter and more tense than Stiles had hoped. Still, he was optimistic that after this moon, Isaac would be more comfortable with their burgeoning traditions. Stiles wasn’t really willing to give up full moon runs so he hoped that Isaac would relax after this one. He understood Isaac’s fears, truly he did, but they were misplaced this time.
Stiles practically had to haul Isaac outside after dinner. His beta offered no verbal protest, but his body language screamed reluctance. Peter walked beside him, his normal excitement and eagerness dampened by Isaac's fear. They could both smell it, acidic and acrid, stinging their noses and setting them on edge.
Once outside, Stiles took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the cool night air. He felt wired and filled with energy. His muscles ached to run, to stretch out in the fullness of his supernatural strength and speed. Beside him, Peter bounced slightly on the balls of his feet, betraying the fact that he felt that same urge. But both of them were focused on the newest member of their pack, unwilling to run without him.
For Isaac’s part, he flinched back from the moonlight hard enough that he landed in the grass on his hands and knees, curling into himself as if the moon couldn’t affect him if he looked small enough.
Stiles dropped to one knee beside him, back straight and head up even as he gripped the back of Isaac’s neck firmly.
“Focus, Isaac,” Stiles said, strong and fierce, but carefully without a trace of scolding in his tone. If Isaac thought Stiles was angry at him while he was so off-balance, he would probably spiral beyond recovery. “Feel your pack bonds. Anchor yourself in them. Peter and I are here. If you feel weak, lean on our strength. Pack is about trust and reliance and being there for one another.”
“The moon pulls stronger out here,” Isaac said shakily.
“It does,” Stiles answered, unflinching.
“Why aren’t you and Peter affected?” Isaac asked as he started to unfold.
Stiles shrugged. “It’s not that we’re unaffected so much as it is that we feel the pull, and only let it pull us to run. We’re confident in our control, our strength, and each other. If I feel like I’m faltering, I can lean on Peter and trust him to keep me steady.”
Peter sent Stiles an oddly fond look and broke in.
“In much the same way, I can lean on Stiles as my alpha if I feel unsteady,” Peter said. “He’s your alpha too, Isaac. Lean on that bond and trust that he will stop you if you start to lose control. That is the purpose of an alpha after all.”
Stiles looked up at Peter curiously. That sounded like a bit of alpha lore he hadn’t stumbled across yet. Isaac also looked intrigued, slowly standing with Stiles help as Stiles kept a firm grip on him just in case.
“The purpose of an alpha?” Isaac asked.
Peter looked away, staring across the moonlit yard.
“Yes,” he said softly, an oddly wistful tone in his voice. “The original purpose of the alpha in a werewolf pack was to ensure that the pack stayed under control. If a wolf started to lose control, the alpha would control them, forcibly if necessary, to prevent them from being a danger to themselves or anyone else.”
“That’s kinda cool,” Isaac said, giving Stiles a contemplative look and relaxing further.
Stiles gazed back steadily, letting Isaac see his calm so that he could adopt it himself. He hadn’t heard that description of an alpha but he couldn’t deny how it resonated with him. Hadn’t he been instinctively doing that with Isaac all day? Controlling his beta when Isaac’s fear started to get the better of him? Peter was right. That was part of his job as their alpha, and he wouldn’t fail them.
Isaac continued to lock eyes with Stiles, taking deep breaths that subconsciously matched Stiles’s breathing. Slowly, he calmed down and his heart rate slowed.
“Okay,” Isaac said finally. “I’m good. I think I’m ready.”
Stiles studied his beta briefly, assessing all the minute details of his body language, and then let a grin slowly stretch across his face.
“I know you’re ready,” he said confidently, watching Isaac stand a little straighter at the words. Stiles glanced at Peter, grin growing as the older wolf matched his gleeful, anticipatory expression.
“Let’s run.”
The three wolves ran through the night, Stiles in the middle with Peter and Isaac flanking him on either side. They tore through the woods, faster than any human could hope to follow, weaving through trees and leaping creeks and brooks in single bounds. As Peter and Stiles had done on Stiles’s first full moon, they hunted a deer, working in perfect unison to position the doe so that Stiles could bring her down in a gentle tackle that did not even scratch her hide. Then, as before, Stiles brushed his fangs across the doe’s jugular in a mimicry of a killing blow before stepping back and letting the deer go.
Isaac whined slightly, pressing forward in an instinctive desire to bring the hunt to its natural conclusion, but Stiles stepped in front of him calmly, pressing their shoulders together and holding Isaac back until his beta regained his control. Isaac glanced up at him after a moment, panting lightly and a wild joy shining in his eyes. Peter slunk up to Stiles’s other side, brushing against his arm to settle beside him. Stiles hummed a deep rumbling note in his chest and ran a hand along Peter’s back in acknowledgement.
They stood there until long after the deer had disappeared into the underbrush, watching the wind stir the branches of the trees and cataloging the many scents it carried with it. Insects chirped and whirred in the grass, and as the wolves stood together in peaceful stillness, small nocturnal animals began to venture forth again.
A few bats flew overhead in search of their dinners and a coyote crept forwards until it was close enough to catch their scent before turning and retreating into the woods as quietly as it had come. An owl dove from a branch, its near-silent wing beats a struggle to detect even with supernatural hearing. The squeal of the mouse it caught in its talons was perfectly obvious however, and the wolves tilted their head in unison, silently tracking the owl’s flight by that sound until the mouse’s heart stilled and it fell silent.
Stiles basked in it all, breathing in the life surrounding him and feeling his heart beat in unison with it all. His betas stood at his sides, patient and watchful. Stiles knew, with the certainty of instinct, that they would not move a muscle until he did, taking their cues from him during the charged night.
Finally, Stiles turned to run off again, Peter and Isaac pivoting beside him without missing a beat. The pack bonds flared brightly and tonight they were perfectly attuned, words unnecessary as they moved through the woods as one.
By the time they returned to Stiles’s house, they were relaxed and content, pleasantly worn out from the run but not exhausted. They curled together on Stiles’s bed and Stiles ran gentle hands over his betas’ backs, assessing them protectively through sight and smell and touch. They slept through his appraisal with nothing more than sleepy shifting. Stiles smiled fondly. His betas were relaxed, more so than they had been since the start of this latest crisis. For now, no more tension lingered in Peter’s shoulders and Isaac lay still, moving smoothly without a hint of twitchiness whenever he shifted in sleep.
Tomorrow they would return to their alert watchfulness. Stiles refused to allow the murderous trespasser to exist in his territory with impunity. They would continue their effort to track it down and get rid of it, but for now, Stiles was content to rest.
He had been right. They had needed this.