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"Scott, you cannot be serious right now."
"I'm telling you,Stiles, that guy is a vampire!"
Stiles pinched his eyes in frustration. Of all the things he could have predicted happening when he came over, his best friend clutching a crucifix and ranting about his new neighbor being a vampire was not one of them.
“Alright, Scotty, lay out for me exactly why you think your neighbor is a member of the undead."
“Well, for starters, I've never seen him out during the day, just that weird nephew of his."
"He could just work nights and get his sleep during the day," Stiles pointed out.“Your mom does the same thing."
“Well, what about all the recent murders? They only started happening after he moved in!"
"That's a coincidence at best...several people have moved into the area recently. Are all of them vampires?"
"Probably not...." Scott said with a hint of uncertainty before his eyes widened with panic. “But then why do they have a coffin?!"
"They have a what now?"
"A coffin! I saw them hauling it into the cellar the other night when I looked out the window."
"Are you sure it was an actual coffin?"
"I know what a coffin looks like, Stiles!"
Stiles looked up at the ceiling like he was begging the heavens for patience before turning back to his friend.
"Scott, what were you doing right before you looked out the window?"
"Watching TV, why?"
"And what was playing on the TV?"
"Uhm....horror movies?"
"And what have I told you about horror movies?"
"To stop watching them because they freak me out," Scott let out with a sigh. “But I still think there's something off about the guy!"
"OK, let's entertain for a moment that this guy is some sort of creature of the night...what exactly do you expect me to do about it?"
"I don't know! You're the one that's into that freaky herbal new-age shit. I figured you could like...protect me from the bad juju or something..."
Stiles wanted to point out that the 'freaky herbal new age shit' Scott was referring to was actually spellcrafting, because he's a witch just like his mother was, but he refrained. The guy was already freaking out about one type of supernatural creature...
Who knows what kind of meltdown would happen if he discovered his best friend was another one.
Beyond exasperated by the whole ordeal, Stiles decided there was only one way to end this. He stood up, grabbed Scott's arm, and dragged him out of the room and down the stairs.
"What the hell,Stiles?!"
"We are going to go next door and prove once and for all that your neighbor is not a vampire."
"NO!NO WE CAN'T!HE'LL KILL US BOTH!"
"Look,it's daytime,right?" Stiles said as he continued dragging his friend until they were out the door and heading down the sidewalk.“If he is a vampire, his powers will be super weak and he won't be able to hurt you."
"Yeah,but..."
"No buts,Scott,we're doing this."
When they got to the neighboring porch, Stiles handed Scott a small mirror.
"Just sneak a look at the guy through this while we're talking. If he is a vampire, he won't have a reflection."
"Fine,but if I'm right,you better have a way to get us out of there alive!"
"If you're right, I will forever give you all of my curly fries. Now come on!"
He knocked on the door, and a few minutes later, it opened to reveal a guy who, while gorgeous, had eyebrows that were a wet dream for estheticians everywhere.
"What do you want?"
“Hi, I'm Stiles, and this is Scott, your next-door neighbor," he said, waving a hand towards his friend.“This is going to sound a little weird, so bear with, but the other night he happened to look out the window and–"
"This is about the coffin, isn't it?"
Damn...he wasn't expecting that.
"Look, just come inside," eyebrows said in a tone that said he was absolutely done with life. “My uncle will explain everything."
He went back inside without waiting for the other two to follow. Scott tried to pull away, but the grip Stiles had on his arm was firm as they stepped through the doorway.
*********
The sprawling Victorian mansion had a well-kept but slightly worn look to it, and Stiles could only imagine how good it looked in its prime. They went inside a large foyer, and the man that answered the door tilted his head in the direction of the upper floor.
"Peter, you need to get down here! Your damn coffee table is scaring the neighbors again."
"I'm coming, I'm coming, I swear you buy one movie prop for décor, and everyone loses their minds..."
As Peter descended the staircase, Stiles felt his breath hitch and his heart performed an involuntary stutter-step. The man was,in a word, breathtaking. He had sharp cheekbones that looked as if they were carved by an artist's chisel, piercing blue eyes that seemed to hold secrets older than the house itself, and a smirk that could melt glaciers.
He was wearing a sinfully tight V-neck that accentuated the firm muscles underneath,and his neck was so thick that Stiles questioned whether or not he himself was the vampire with his sudden urge to bite it.
Scott tried to get his attention,but it dissolved into background noise as Stiles continued staring at the walking perfection coming down the stairs.
When their eyes met, it was like static electricity crackling through the air, igniting something unfamiliar and exhilarating. His magic swirled within him, and it took every ounce of willpower he had to not let it escape to the surface.
"I hope you weren't waiting too long. I'm Peter Hale, this is my nephew Derek," he gestured towards the angry-looking man that had answered the door,"and you must be Stiles."
"No, we just got here...how did you know my name?"
"I may have been doing a little eavesdropping from my bedroom window, which made me curious if the face was as beautiful as the voice...and I'm happy to say that I wasn't disappointed in the slightest."
Stiles flushed a deep shade of crimson, words failing him as he tried desperately to get his brain back online.
"So…uhm...yeah...coffin?"
“Right, yes, follow me."
They made their way to the living room, and sure enough, there was a giant coffin in the middle being used as a coffee table. Scott looked ready to throw up, but Stiles took one look at it and busted out laughing.
"Is that the prop coffin from Bela Lugosi's Dracula?"
"It is indeed," Peter said as he invited them over for a closer look." I'm a bit of a film connoisseur, and whenever set pieces from my favorite films come up for auction, I have a tendency to buy first and ask questions later."
"Bet that thing cost a lot of money."
"Not nearly as much as the carbonite Han Solo piece did."
Stiles’s eyes grew wide as saucers. This man was rich, gorgeous, and he liked Star Wars?
He was fucked...he was sooo fucked.
Peter's phone rang just then, and he excused himself to go answer it. Stiles's blatant staring at the man's ass when he walked off was interrupted by Scott pulling him backwards.
"I know that look on your face," he hissed quietly.“You are not going to flirt with the potential vampire!"
"Oh...I'm not gonna flirt with him."
"You're not?"
"Nope...I'm going to climb that man like a tree."
Derek made a choking noise from the other side of the room, like he'd heard what they were whispering about. But that would have been impossible given how large the space was...unless of course, they really were vampires.
Stiles didn’t believe that. He suspected that they weren't entirely human because of the way his magic reacted, but they certainly weren't vampires.
Now he just needed to get Scott to see that.
When Peter came back into the room, he nudged his friend to get the mirror out of his pocket. Scott, ever the epitome of grace under pressure, yanked too hard, causing it to fly out and shatter as it hit the polished hardwood floor.
Stiles reached down to pick up the shards, but before he could, Peter grabbed his hand.
"Those look rather sharp, sweetheart, I wouldn't want you to cut yourself."
It said alot about his self-control that he didn't moan at the pet name.
Peter picked up a jagged piece of the mirror, and held it casually in his hand, his reflection obvious for all to see. Scott turned red with embarrassment, mumbling something about never watching certain movies ever again, but Stiles had noticed something his friend hadn't...
Peter's hand had been cut by the glass...only for said cut to heal a moment later.
That same hand pulled him to his feet, and he couldn't help but feel bereft when his was let go.
"Sorry about making a mess on your floor."
"Oh it's quite alright, accidents do happen."
"Yeah I guess so," Scott replied, grabbing Stiles and pulling him away," we should get going, right Stiles?"
"Actually, if you don't mind having my nephew see you to the door...I'd like to borrow your little friend, here."
Scott looked wary, but Stiles just waved him off.
"Go on, Scotty, I'll meet you outside."
Stiles watched them leave the room, then turned back to Peter, who was looking at him as if he was trying penetrate the deepest parts of his soul.
"Why did you really come here, Stiles? I highly doubt it was solely due to my coffee table."
"The coffee table did contribute to my best friend being convinced that you and your nephew were vampires, so I had to find out for sure before he did something stupid."
"And have you sufficiently proved that I'm not one?"
"You're not...a vampire at least...but you're not human either."
“Not human at all,” Peter declared, his eyes gleaming with a fiery crimson as he ran a clawed finger down Stiles’s cheek. “Do you know what I am, little witch?”
"How did you-"
"I can smell the lightning on your skin."
Stiles swallowed thickly, his pulse thrumming like a war drum as Peter’s crimson eyes bore into his. The sharp tip of that claw against his cheek sent a shiver racing down his spine. Despite the feelings of lust threatening to overtake him, his brain was clear-headed enough to latch onto the part about scent, and his eyes widened in realization.
"Holy shit....you're a werewolf!"
Peter’s lips curled into a grin that was absolutely predatory.
“Clever boy...I knew you'd figure it out."
“So, werewolves...that means less blood-sucking and more… clawing?”
"We’re not all savages, Stiles. Some of us even have excellent table manners.”
“I'm sure you do,"Stiles mused before another thought came to mind," wait is Derek a werewolf too?"
"Yes, everyone in our family are born wolves."
"Huh..that's pretty cool, actually."
“You’re not afraid.”
"Should I be?”
“No, darling, not of me,” Peter whispered softly, his eyes gradually returning to their normal state. “Never of me.”
Stiles had so many questions he wanted to ask, but they would have to wait for the time being.
"I need to get Scott home before he gets antsy. Can I....Can I come see you again?"
"I'd be thoroughly disappointed if you didn't."
He laughed and shook his head before turning and heading out of the room. Peter watched from the living room window as the younger man grabbed his friend off the porch and marched down the sidewalk. He waited until they dissappeared around the corner before summoning his nephew to his side.
"I want you to keep an eye on them from now on."
"You think Dandridge will go after them?"
"Maybe not Scott," Peter said as he stared in the direction the two had gone,"but Stiles will definitely be a target."
"Because he's a witch?"
"Because he's mine."
*********
Satisfied that he was not living near an undead psychopath, things went back to normal for Scott. He was once again his usual, happy-go-lucky, puppy dog self....which was great for Stiles, because he had an entirely different issue to worry about.
Peter Hale.
After that first encounter, Stiles found himself over at the man's house every chance he got. Initially, it was because he wanted to know more about werewolves, but after awhile he went simply because he enjoyed the man's snark and sarcasm. His magic seemed to agree, because when Peter was around it felt settled in a way it hadn't since before his mother died.
He was falling hard for the other man, and he had no idea how to stop it...
Or if he wanted to.
********
One evening, before heading back to his apartment, Stiles decided to stop and visit his father. Between spending time with the wolves and his job at the university library, he really hadn't had a chance to see him. He still had a spare key to the house, so he just unlocked the door and walked straight in.
"Hey Daddio, you home? Thought I'd stop by and check that you weren't sneaking any contraband bac...on..."
His father wasn't alone. Sitting in the chair by the sofa was a man he had never seen before. He was rather unremarkable looking, sort of handsome in that general older man way(not as handsome as Peter... but then again no one was).
His eyes, however, radiated an unnatural coldness that pierced through Stiles. Their intense gaze locked onto him, leaving him feeling paralyzed by their power.
His father, oblivious to the tension, set out to introduce them.
"Stiles, this is Dr. Gerard Dandridge, he's a forensic pathologist that's here to consult with the department due to the recent murders....Dr. Dandridge, this is my son, Stiles."
"A pleasure to finally meet you, Stiles," he said as he stood up and held out his hand, "and please, call me Jerry."
Stiles grasped the outstretched hand and nearly fell over at the forceful recoil of his magic. Jerry must have sensed it too, as he quickly released his grip, offering up a smile that had an unusually large number of teeth.
"Well, I won't keep you any longer, Sheriff...Stiles it was lovely to meet you, maybe we'll see each other again soon."
"Yeah, maybe..." God he hoped not.
As soon as Jerry left, Stiles shooed his Dad into the kitchen, then set about putting wards up at both entrances, as he did not want that man coming back into his father's house.
Whatever Jerry was, he definitely was not human...nor was he friendly.
He was a predator...and Stiles had a sinking feeling he was the prey.
**********
"Tell me again why you thought clubbing while an active serial killer is on the loose was a good idea,Scott?"
"All the victims have been women so far, so it's not like we're on the target list," Scott said while sipping on a drink that Stiles was certain was more sugar than alcohol," besides I haven't seen much of you lately, other than when you're cutting across my yard to go bone the neighbor."
Stiles was glad the lighting in the club was dark enough that no one could see how red his face had gotten.
"There hasn't been any 'boning' happening...not yet anyways."
"What happened to 'I'm going to climb that man like a tree'?"
"Ugh," Stiles groaned, head hitting the bartop in frustration,"shut up, Scott."
Scott just laughed and patted him on the back.
"It'll be okay...and hey if you need an ego boost, there's a classy looking older guy at the end of the bar that's been checking you out for the last several minutes."
Stiles raised his head to see what his friend was talking about....only for his blood to run cold.
There, sitting three stools down, was Jerry Dandridge.
The man raised his glass towards him and smiled in a manner that was anything but nice. He didn't know why Dandridge was there watching him, but he knew one thing for sure.
He had to get out.
"I gotta go."
"Wait what? Why?!"
"No time to explain," Stiles said, patting his friend on the back as he stood,"call a cab to get home okay? I'll see you tomorrow."
"Wait Stiles, where are you going? What the...STILES?!"
***********
Instead of going out the front entrance, Stiles took a shortcut through the back offices and came out into an alleyway behind the building. He hoped by going this route he could give Dandridge the slip and go home. But as he started walking, he heard slow, deliberate footsteps right behind him.
His instincts screamed at him to run...so he did.
He zig-zagged several different directions, hoping it would be enough to shake the other man off. He stopped short at a dead-end, and slowly turned around...only to see nothing in front of him. He took a few cautious steps forward, and nearly jumped out of his skin when a voice whispered in his ear.
"Hello, Stiles."
"Holy Fuck!" He yelled when saw that Dandridge had wound up right behind him, "You scared the shit out of me! You always creep up on people in dark alleys?"
"It's not my typical style, no," Dandridge said as he took a step forward, causing Stiles to step back,"but evasive little witches that run with werewolves require a different approach."
"Witches? Werewolves? Look I don't know what you're smoking but–"
"I can sense the power in you, Stiles, don't bother denying it. It's a shame Hale hasn't kept a better eye on you, one would think that the Alpha-mate held more importance than that...Oh well, his loss...my gain."
The man's face transformed into something twisted and demonic, eyes glowing a sickly yellowish-red, and long, pointed fangs jutting from his mouth.
Stiles had the horrific realization that Scott had been right about there being a vampire after all, and it was standing right in front of him.
Suddenly, he heard a low growling noise behind him, and before he could blink, the vampire was being knocked down by a large,black wolf. He watched in horror as the two creatures wrestled each other, with Dandridge seemingly having the upper-hand.
Another wolf, much larger than the first one and sporting silver criss-cross patterns in its fur, leapt out of the shadows and started attacking Dandridge as well.
The vampire tossed the smaller wolf aside and clawed the shoulder of the bigger one, causing it to yelp in pain. He knocked it to the ground, and when the animal tried to stand,it fell back down again. The wolf whimpered and raised its head, its eyes fading from red to blue.
A very familiar shade of blue.
Stiles realized then that the enormous wolf in front of him was Peter...and that Dandridge was about to kill him.
His magic,which had always been a calm and gentle presence in his life, surged forward with a violent need to protect, and burst from his hands in a giant wave of purple light that shot through the alley like a lightning bolt. It hit Dandridge square in the chest, sending him flying through the air and crashing into the far wall with a deafening crack.
The vampire snarled, smoke rising from the charred edges of his clothes. He pulled himself up from the pile of rubble, and let out an ear-piercing shriek before leaping up and flying off into the night.
Breathing heavily, Stiles ran and dropped to his knees beside Peter. His hands hovered over the torn flesh, panic rising in his throat at the amount of damage spread across the blood-soaked fur.
"Come on, Peter...why aren't you healing?"
"He will,it's just going to take awhile."
"What do you mean?"
Derek emerged from the shadows (Stiles was desperately trying to ignore the fact that he was butt naked) and kneeled down next to them to examine his uncle's injuries.
"A vampire like Dandridge is the equivalent of an Alpha werewolf, and wounds from an Alpha always take longer. We should get out of here before anyone else shows up."
"What about Dandridge?"
"He won't be back tonight. It's too close to sunrise, and whatever you did to him will take awhile to heal...our car is at the end of the alley, so follow me."
He picked Peter up and marched down the alleyway...with Stiles following close behind.
*********
When they got to the house, Derek carried Peter up the stairs and deposited him onto a bed, before leaving to clean himself up in another room. Stiles went into the adjacent bathroom to get a wet washcloth, nearly dropping it when he came back out and saw that Peter had shifted back to human form.
Heat rising in his face, he sat down on the bed and tried his best not to look down as he wiped the blood off of Peter's chest.
Judging from amused expression on the man's face, he was failing miserably.
"So...uhm," Stiles coughed in order to distract himself," I wanted to say thank you, for saving my life back there."
"I suppose I should be thanking you. That was quite the lightshow you put on, sweetheart."
"Yeah, well, don't ask for a repeat performance, because I have no idea how I did it...that was the first time my magic hasn't been completely useless."
"Nothing about you is useless."
Stiles didn't say anything in response to that, just continued to cleanse the blood from the rapidly healing wounds. When the last of the gashes had closed up, he brought up something the vampire said that had been nagging at him.
"Before you guys showed up...Dandridge called me the Alpha-mate...care to tell me what that means?"
Met with only silence, he attempted to pull away, only to find his wrist caught in Peter’s deceptively strong grip. As he looked up, he was surprised by the vulnerability he saw in the older man’s gaze.
"Werewolves aren't like humans, Stiles. While we date and have sex as much as anyone else does...we only fall in love once. A mate is the one person that's meant to be ours for eternity. Being the Alpha-mate means that you belong to me...as much I belong to you."
"Do you belong to me, Peter Hale?"
Peter’s other hand reached out to cradle his face, gently brushing his thumb along his cheek.
"I do...from the very first moment I saw you..."
He leaned in and captured Stiles's mouth in a slow, careful kiss. The first touch of lips was soft, exploring, an exchange of breath and heartbeat that quickly deepened in intensity.
He released the hand he was holding to reach for the hem of Stiles’s shirt, lifting it up over his head and throwing it across the room. He ran his tongue along pale skin, tracing the intricate patterns of moles while removing the final barrier of clothing separating them.
Fingers tangled in his hair as Stiles pulled him back up the length of his body and into another searing kiss. Nerve endings ignited as skin met skin, the scent of lightning and lavender permeating the room as they explored every inch of each other.
When he finally slid inside of Stiles ...it was like a revelation. Every moan, every gasp, every whisper of his name filled him with a sense of whole and utter completion. The world had shrunk down to nothing but the movement of their bodies and the rhythm of their shared pleasure.
Peter felt his fangs elongate, and right as they both tipped over the edge,he sank them into Stiles's shoulder. Tendrils of violet light wound around them both, sealing the bond in magic and blood as they collapsed together in a tangle of warm, sated limbs.
************
As sunlight began to creep through the blinds, casting golden streaks across the room, Stiles lay nestled against Peter’s chest, his fingers tracing lazy patterns over smooth skin. The rhythmic heartbeat beneath him provided a grounding and steady presence for his racing thoughts.
"I'm not going to turn into a werewolf because of this,am I? Cause let me tell you, an Adhd-fueled furball running around on the full moon does not sound like a good idea."
"God no, I'd have to put the intent into the bite for that," Peter snorted before gently kissing the top of his head," besides, I'm fairly certain that you, my little witch, are immune to turning because of your abilities."
"Hmm...probably."
Stiles let his eyes rove around Peter's bedroom, curiosity piqued by the eclectic collection of items scattered around. His attention was caught in particular by a photograph that sat prominently on the nightstand...a candid, sun-drenched image of a young girl with warm brown eyes and soft curls, smiling brightly at the camera.
"Who's that in the picture?"
"That's my daughter, Malia."
Stiles's eyes widened slightly, taken aback by the revelation.
"I didn't know you had a daughter, I thought it was just you and Derek..."
"Derek is my second, he always travels where I go...the rest of our pack is in New York for now."
"Oh...so did your daughter stay back with them then?"
Peter’s jaw tensed, a shadow passing over his features.
"Malia passed away...a little over two years ago."
"Peter...I’m so sorry," Stiles whispered, his voice thick with emotion,"What happened?"
"Dandridge happened."
A torrent of grief and rage ran through the bond, and Stiles had to close his eyes against the onslaught.
"That's why you came here isn't it? To get revenge against Dandridge..."
It is...For the past two years, all I've thought about was ripping the heart out of the monster that took my baby girl from me."
"And after? What happens if you do manage to kill him?"
"I honestly don't know," Peter admitted, his fingers gently threading through Stiles’s hair, "Originally, the plan was to return to New York once Dandridge was disposed of, but now that I've found you, I have no desire to be somewhere you're not."
Stiles’s chest tightened, a feeling he didn't quite have a name for flooding through him as he snuggled further into Peter's chest.
"I don't want to be without you,either."
A comfortable silence fell between them...only to be interrupted a few minutes later by the ringing of Stiles's cellphone.
"Shit...where are my pants?"
"I assume they're on the side of the bed 'Barbie Girl' is playing from."
"Don't you judge me," he hissed at the wolf's raised brow as he grabbed his pants from the floor and fished out the phone,"Hey Mel what's–No, no I haven't heard from him today...Yeah,I'll let you know if I do...bye."
He hung up and Peter immediately went on alert at the tension in his mate's frame.
"What's wrong?"
"That was Scott's mom...she said he didn't come home last and she hasn't been able to reach him...you don't think–"
"Call him....right now."
Stiles quickly brought up his friends contact and waited for the call to connect.
"Scott?"
"Hello, Stiles."
He froze at the sound of Jerry Dandridge on the other end of the line.
"What did you do to him?!"
"Who? Scott? Oh nothing yet," Dandridge quipped in a smug tone that made his magic spark from his fingertips," He's perfectly safe, for now, but I can't guarantee he'll stay that way unless you do exactly as I say."
"What do you want?"
"I want you to come to my house at sunset tonight, I'll text you the address...Oh and Stiles? Be sure to leave the dogs at home."
The line abruptly cut off, leaving Stiles frozen as he stared at the phone. Meanwhile, Peter was up pacing around the room, eyes flashing and claws on full display.
"You cannot go into that monster's lair alone!"
"What choice do I have, Peter? I can't just let him kill my best friend!"
“And I can’t let him kill you,” Peter whispered, kneeling before Stiles. “There has to be another way.”
"I might have an idea...any chance you and Derek can get me some spell ingredients before tonight?"
"Of course we can, sweetheart, what did you have in mind?"
"Something that will help us surround that bastard and put an end to this once and for all..."
"Tell me what you need me to do."
************
"Okay seriously, what in the Spirit Halloween am I looking at here?"
The address they were sent led to a derelict mansion on the outskirts of town. It had the look of one of those haunted houses from the movies, with darkened windows, shudders tilted off their hinges, and a literal fog surrounding the entire house.
"Pretty sure I've seen haunted houses run by kids that are less cliché....and why is it so dark anyway? "
"He's got all the windows painted black so he can use the entire house as a coffin,"Derek said, eyes flashing blue," I can hear movement and at least one heartbeat, so they're definitely inside."
"Alright, let's do this," Stiles said as he clapped his hands together," Derek you sneak in through the back and try to find Scott, while Peter and I go through the front. The amulets I made you both will hide you from all of Dandridge's senses, but since I weaved it with your human forms in mind, I don't know if it's effect will extend to the wolf...so don't shift unless you absolutely have to."
Derek nodded and took off. Stiles felt fingers lace through his, and turned to see Peter staring at him with a mix of awe and trepidation.
"You ready?"
"Yeah, let's do this."
He walked across the street towards the house, his wolf following close behind. The front door creaked open ominously when they made it to the porch, and they cautiously stepped through it.
The inside of Dandridge's place was even more dilapidated than the outside.The wallpaper,once ornate and vibrant, had peeled away in curling strips, revealing dark patches of mildew etched into the crumbling plaster beneath.
Cobwebs hung like tattered curtains in every corner. The remnants of furniture lay scattered and broken, their fabric upholstery shredded and stained with unidentifiable dark splotches. A chandelier, its crystals coated in a thick layer of dust, dangled precariously from the ceiling, swaying slightly despite the absence of any breeze.
"Jesus, Christopher Lee would have had a field day in here."
"I think he would have found it quite charming."
There, at the top of the semi-rotted staircase, was Dandridge. The smug bastard stood there grinning without a care in the world, munching on an apple of all things.
"I'm here,now where's Scott?"
"Oh he's tucked away upstairs, poor thing's so deliciously easy to terrify...I'll be sure to let him run away once I get what I want."
"Which is?"
"Isn't is it obvious by now?" He said as he descended down the steps," I want you, Stiles."
Stiles was glad for the amulets blocking abilities,or Peter would have gave them away with how loud he was growling.
"Don't know why, I'm not exactly special or anything..."
"Oh but that's where you're wrong...are you aware of how many different kinds of witches there are, Stiles?"
"Not really, I just assumed it was half actual magic users and half Walmart Wiccans."
"There are many types that I've sampled over the centuries...but the best of them all are the Sparks," he said, taking slow, deliberate steps towards Stiles,"very rare, very powerful, and their blood has a unique property that can't be found in any other creature..."
He stopped and reached out towards the younger man's face, running a clawed finger down his cheek.
"It can give me the power to walk in the sun again."
“First of all, eww...my Daddy kink does NOT include blood-sucking homicidal maniacs,” Stiles said in a disgusted tone, shoving Dandridge’s hand away. “Second, what makes you so certain I’m a Spark and not a regular witch?”
"That little light trick you used on me in the alley was practically a dead giveaway...and then of course there's your mother..."
Stiles felt as though all of the air in his lungs had froze up. Peter was trying to say something, but all he could hear is white noise as his brain latched onto the vampire's words.
"How....do you....know anything...about my mother?"
"Well, you see Stiles, this isn't my first time being in this town...I first came through about oh...14 years ago, I'd say, and ran into another Spark like yourself. Nearly killed me, that one, but I managed to drain her dry before fleeing. Of course, the effects of that blood only lasted so long, and since Sparks are incredibly rare, I was resigned to never finding another one. So imagine my surprise, when I get invited into the Sheriff's home and see a picture of the woman I'd gotten rid of on the wall...right before her just as powerful son walked through the front door."
He'd known, somehow he'd always known, that his mother's death hadn't been natural....that witches don't just up and die from massive heart attacks. But to have Dandridge confess to killing her so callously....filled him with an incandescent rage.
"Oh don't worry, I have no intention of killing you," Dandridge continued, unaware or uncaring of the storm brewing inside of the man before him,"I need to keep blood like yours around for as long as possible....I might even let you keep that wolf around as a pet...an Alpha is bound to be more entertaining than that little beta girl I ripped apart awhile back..."
The casual disregard towards his daughter was the last straw for Peter. He ripped off the amulet and leapt at the vampire,causing both of them to tumble to the ground.
They rolled around in flurry of claws, fangs, and flashing eyes. Stiles was trying to find an opening to help when Scott stumbled down the stairs, his face pale and his expression wild with panic.
"Stiles! You won’t believe what I-WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!"
Derek, who'd been following close behind, shifted into his wolf form and attacked Dandridge from the other side. Stiles had to quickly pull his best friend out of the way as a large piece of furniture sailed past them and crashed into the wall.
"Stiles, what the hell is going on? Who is that guy? And why are my neighbors suddenly furry?!"
"That guy is a vampire...he's the one who's been committing the murders. Peter and Derek are werewolves that tracked him here to kill him."
“So,now we’re living the plot of a terrible eighties horror movie? Jesus, Stiles! What are we going to do?”
"WE aren't going to do anything," Stiles said, putting his hands on Scott's shoulders to steer him away from the fighting and towards the door," you are going to get out here and go call your mom."
"And leave you here unprotected? No way! Besides, I can't call anybody, that asshole crushed my phone."
"I can take care of myself, Scotty...now here, take my-"
Just as he was about to hand the phone over, Stiles noticed the time and froze. With how dark it was inside, he hadn't realized how long they'd been there, but now...
"You still have your mom's rosary with you?"
"Yeah, it's here in my back pocket," Scott said as he finished the small bracelet out," He didn't bother to search me after he took the phone."
"I need you to stand right there and hold it up in front of you. I have an idea..."
He left his friend there and ran towards the staircase. Once he made it to the top, he stood in front of a large painted over stained glass window and whistled to get the vampire's attention.
"Hey Asshole! You want me? Come and get me!"
Dandridge managed to throw the wolves off of him and flew to the top of the landing. The smug expression on his face at his presumed victory quickly turned to one of confusion when he saw the boy was grinning at him.
"What on earth could you possibly be smiling about?"
"Oh nothing much, just that you forgot one important factor when you started this whole mess."
"Oh? And what's that?"
Stiles's eyes glowed a bright purple as electricity crackled all around him.
"Daylight savings time is a bitch."
With an audible crack, tendrils of violet energy burst from his fingertips, spiraling outward in chaotic arcs. The force rippled through the room, causing every window to explode outward. Sunlight, unfiltered and fierce, cascaded over Dandridge, who screamed in agony as skin blistered and burned where the rays touched.
He ran away in a desperate attempt to escape into the darkness, but at the sight of the rosary cross Scott held up he stumbled backwards into the center of the room.
It was all the opening Peter needed.
He came up behind the shrieking vampire, and punched straight through his chest, pulling the still beating heart out and crushing it.Dandridge's body crumpled to the ground in a pile of flaming ash.
Peter’s elation at finally avenging his daughter’s murder was short-lived when he saw his mate start to sway and fall over.
"Stiles!"
Peter raced up the staircase and caught him just before he collapsed completely.His fingers brushed over Stiles's clammy cheek and down his neck, the warmth of the younger man's pulse flickered faintly beneath, fragile but persistent.
“I-I’m okay… just tired,” Stiles murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, eyes fluttering shut with exhaustion.
Without wasting another second, Peter lifted Stiles effortlessly into his arms and carried him down the stairs. Derek and Scott were waiting at the bottom, faces etched with concern.
"Is he going to be okay?"
"I believe so, he's just exhausted from using such a large amount of magic in one go. Let's get him out of here so he can rest properly."
He headed out of the room, leaving Scott standing there shaking his head.
"I got kidnapped by a vampire, my neighbors are werewolves, and apparently my best friend is some kind of wizard...what's next fuzzy unicorns?"
"Those things are far from fuzzy," Derek said as he clapped him on the shoulder,"Come on, I'll tell you all about it on the way home."
They walked out of the house, leaving it-and the nightmare it housed-behind.
*********
Overall, Scott adjusted to the idea of werewolves far better than he did vampires.
He spent the next three days asking hundreds of questions(mostly to Derek, since Peter wouldn't leave his mate's side while he was unconscious). By the time Stiles did wake up, his best friend was not only comfortable with the supernatural, he'd even gotten Derek to volunteer to shift to a wolf to help him with his thesis for his veterinary classes.
Judging by the blush on the younger wolf's face, that wasn't the only form of playing doctor he'd volunteered himself for.
They set Dandridge's house on fire, but not before sending an anonymous package full of evidence to the police linking him to all of the recent murders.
Peter found it both arousing and a little terrifying at just how easily his mate could fabricate evidence.
Stiles had considered telling his father the truth about his mother’s death, because if anyone deserved to know,it was his Dad. But,as he pictured the man’s warm smile and the subtle lines around his eyes,etched from years of worry and love, he knew he couldn’t do it.
Some truths were better left buried.
He decided to focus on the present instead. He had moved in with Peter, and they were currently renovating the house to accommodate the rest of the pack that was moving there from New York.
"I think we need to put a set of lightsabers on the wall."
"And why, pray tell, do we need that?"
"To accent the Han Solo piece! It'll be like a nerdy coat of arms or something."
Peter just laughed and shook his head before pulling Stiles into his arms.
"You,my little witch, are absolutely ridiculous."
"Yeah, but you love me, anyway."
"I do...I really do..."
Stiles's grin softened into something tender, the sincerity in his wolf's gaze making his chest ache. He reached up, cupping Peter's face gently as his thumb brushed over the man's cheekbone.
"I love you too, Peter," he confessed, his voice trembling slightly but unwavering in its truth.
Peter's eyes softened, warmth radiating from him like sunlight after a storm. Without hesitation, they both leaned in, their lips meeting in a kiss that was filled with the weight of unspoken words, shared memories, and a future that they were ready to build together.