The Constant—Best Life—Trope Bingo

Title: The Constant (The Prepared Mind #7)
Author: Claire Watson
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Genre: A/U, Best Life
Relationship(s): Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Cora Hale/OFC, Peter Hale/OFC/OFC
Content Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Author Notes: Trope Bingo #Best Life
Beta: Grammarly
Word Count: 9,661
Summary: Peter Hale is living his best life.

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When Peter was ten, his father asked him which career he wanted to pursue.

Peter didn’t even need to think about it. “I want to be rich and famous. Not an actor—they spend all their time being told what to do—but someone as famous as an actor.”

His father laughed. “You’d be better served by making your goals less ambiguous. It’s hard to build a path to ‘famous’ without knowing what you want to be famous for.”

After some consideration, Peter narrowed his choices down to law or journalism. Journalism would allow him to travel, but law would help him reach financial independence faster.

After discussing both options with his father, Peter went with law. His father promised that if Peter had the grades, he’d find someone to sponsor him to Albion University. Peter worked hard, graduated valedictorian, and got the sponsorship he’d worked for.

Studying at Albion was a fantastic experience. For the first time in his life, Peter felt he could finally relax. Mostly, it was because he was out from under Talia’s gaze. Talia had always disapproved of him, always looked to find the negative in everything he was involved in. He didn’t remember a time when she’d been able to talk to him without the sour smell of distrust tainting the air around them.

Laura was a complete mini-me who followed her mother’s lead in all things. She was five years his junior and wasn’t nearly as bright, but that didn’t stop her regularly reminding him that she would be the alpha one day.

Peter did not plan on sticking around for Talia the second. His ties to the Hale territory were strong, but he had no intention of spending his entire life enduring suspicion and distrust. Albion was the perfect place for him to make the contacts he needed to ensure he had options. He was careful not to raise expectations or make promises, implied or otherwise, but scouted out four packs that seemed like good prospects.

Being born a Hale was his highest trump card. The ability to transform fully into a wolf was rare; its regularity in the Hale bloodline was seen as a sign of greatness and strength. It opened many doors, and packs that wouldn’t otherwise have looked twice at him made tentative overtures. Peter could afford to be choosy, and he had no intention of finding himself under the thumb of an alpha as bad or worse than Talia and Laura.

Also, if he timed his transfer with Laura’s ascension to alpha, his motives wouldn’t be questioned. Leadership changes often result in pack shuffles, and other werewolf packs would welcome the excuse to get some Hale blood into their lines.

But that was an issue for the future, one that his preparations would hopefully help smooth the way for.

Having received his law degree, Peter arrived home from Albion just in time to visit his father on his deathbed. He got a job at a local law firm—more as a glorified legal secretary than a junior lawyer, but it would do while he prepared to sit his bar exams—and made plans to move out of the family house as soon as he’d saved enough for a deposit on his own place.

Thankfully there were no student loans to worry about. Talia might be too stingy with the family money to help him with a house, but everyone in the pack had their education taken care of by a Trust that predated Talia’s ascension to alpha.

Peter had just started looking for a suitable home—ideally something as simultaneously close to the Preserve and as far from the Hale house as possible—when the fire happened.

His memory of the time between the fire and his strange resurrection was unfocused and blurry. The only parts that held any clarity were the moments after Kate Argent’s death and before Derek did what needed to be done.

He didn’t blame Derek for it. There was no other way.

As Peter goaded Derek into action, he saw that his nephew realised it too. It was a better death than the rest of their family had received; Peter’s only regret was that Derek was the one who had to carry it out. Of Talia’s children, Derek was the one with the softest heart, the one who would be the most affected.

Waking up again was a surprise.

Discovering how much Derek had been floundering in the absence of someone to guide him was not.

In the months that Peter had been dead, Derek had become harder, colder, and now viewed everyone with suspicion. The practical side of Peter saw it as a good thing; the Hale alpha couldn’t afford the vestiges of naivete that beta-Derek had still clung to. But the part of Peter that remembered a shy little boy who was horrified at the thought of eating a helpless rabbit mourned Derek’s transformation.

Watching as Scott McCall willingly took part in Derek’s violation at the hands of Gerard Argent was like a waking nightmare. Unfortunately, Peter’s return from the dead hadn’t exactly restored him to full power. He was enough of a realist to see that intervention would only result in his death. Again. Peter’s second death wouldn’t help Derek, and Peter didn’t want to give Gerard Argent the satisfaction of killing another Hale.

Then it was over. Scott had self-righteously declared that Derek wasn’t his alpha—as though he hadn’t already made it clear that Derek meant less than nothing to him—either ignoring or not caring about the implications of his views on the bodily autonomy of others. Peter watched Derek fold even further in on himself and wondered if this would be the end of the Hale pack.

Reassurance wasn’t Peter’s strong point, so he was glad when Derek started to pick himself up again. Finding him filling out paperwork for training to become a deputy sheriff was a surprise, but not an unwelcome one.

Peter was still wondering about that when he got a visit from Noah Stilinski.

“You need to step up.” Noah didn’t bother with a preamble. “If you want this pack to succeed, you’ll have to work for it. Stop waiting for Derek to ask for your help; he’s been thrown into the deep end and probably doesn’t even know what it is he needs help with.”

Peter raised his eyebrows. “Am I to infer that my nephew has been confiding in you, Sheriff Stilinski? How very unlike him.”

Noah shrugged. “I didn’t give him much choice. I started talking and didn’t stop until he was too far in to back out. It was probably unfair; he’s a good kid and was raised to respect law enforcement. Telling me to get lost would go against all that childhood indoctrination.”

Peter was starting to see a resemblance between the man and his son that he’d never really noticed before. “Cunning.”

“It helps that I have a kind face,” said Noah without shame. “You, Peter Hale, have a face that makes people suspect that you’re up to no good.”

“It’s been the bane of my existence,” agreed Peter. “At least it’s pretty. Can you imagine looking as untrustworthy as I am and not having the Hale good looks to fall back on? It would be worse than being born with an unlucky sneeze.”

Noah chuckled. “You’ve got plenty of charm.” His smile faded. “I wasn’t kidding, though. Derek will need help to get everything in order, and you’re the only one with any idea of how a pack should function.”

Peter scrunched his nose in a way that he knew made him look disarmingly adorable. “What’s in it for me?”

“Something to do?” said Noah. “Speaking of which, I’m curious as to how you’ve been spending your time. Do you have a job?”

Peter folded his arms. “I don’t see that my daily routine is any of your business.”

“I’m just curious.”

“I’ve been day-trading,” said Peter, wondering where this desire to answer personal questions was coming from. Did the sheriff have some magical voice powers or something? This was ridiculous. “The family insurance paid for my hospital costs, and the investments I made before I was injured grew into a rather tidy sum. I thought I’d give the stock markets a whirl, and I’ve been rather successful so far.”

Noah nodded. “I’m sure that’s another area Derek could use your advice.”

“You’re determined to turn me into a productive member of society, aren’t you, officer?”

Noah didn’t answer, just raised his eyebrows.

Peter sighed. “Fine. I promise I’ll help my nephew, officer.”

“Good.” Noah pulled a small notebook and pencil from his pocket and ticked something off. “Next, I’m going to run Chris Argent and his band of psychos out of town.”

Peter whistled. “That’s a bold move, sheriff. The Argents are tenacious and irritating, much like an invasive species. They have contacts within law enforcement, and many an adversary has found them harder to pin down than a tank of greased eels.”

“Perhaps. I have plenty of contacts of my own, and I’m not afraid to use them. There’s no place in my jurisdiction for a group of racist assholes that torture teenagers just because they’re different.”

“Lycanthropy is just a racial difference?” said Peter. “It’s technically more of a species thing, but I see where you’re coming from.”

“Either way, I’m not having it.”

“Chris Argent might offer a promise to keep his hunters on a tighter leash,” Peter pointed out.

Noah shrugged. “I don’t respect him enough to believe any promises he makes. Either he leaves of his own accord, or I’ll start asking awkward questions in public locations. He might not care on his own account, but if he loves his daughter, he won’t make her go through that type of public scrutiny just to make a point.”

“I’ll look forward to seeing the results.”

v^v^v^v

Less than a week later, the Argents had packed up, moved, and their house was up for sale.

Peter was reluctantly impressed.

All thoughts of the Argents flew straight out of his head a week later when Derek’s two errant puppies were dragged back into town by none other than his niece, Cora. Suddenly, rebuilding the Hale pack didn’t seem quite so arduous, and if there was one thing that Peter and Derek could agree on, it was that Cora deserved to be happy.

Cora agreed to temporarily stand as Derek’s second but refused the more traditional role of Right Hand. “I’m not going to be stuck in Beacon Hills,” she warned Peter when he asked her about it. “I’ll stay long enough to get everything established. After that, I want to see the world.”

Peter could sympathise. He told her about Albion, about how much he’d enjoyed being himself amongst other people his age. He explained how the sponsorship system worked and that, as an alumnus, he could sponsor her if she wished.

Cora said she would think about it.

When Derek came to him about the problem of finding an Emissary, Peter pulled out the file where he’d kept a list of contacts he’d made at Albion and made some calls.

One of them called back immediately and told him about ‘The Smiths,’ a supernatural placement agency with a growing reputation for being both successful and discreet. After some investigation, Peter agreed that they looked ideal and passed a summary of his research to Derek.

Two months later, an energetic, friendly Asian woman with the unlikely name of Abigail arrived to take up Emissary duties under the deal that Derek had brokered with The Smiths. She stayed for six months, spending most of that time with the nemeton.

Abigail’s replacement was a laid-back, middle-aged man named Davy, who had ‘Californian surfer dude’ written all over him. His weather roughened face was good looking and tanned, his dark brown hair naturally sun-bleached to light gold. A lingering smell of weed clung to his hair and clothes, and nothing at all could get him to lose his temper.

Peter knew that for a fact. He tried.

Davy ambled slowly through the Preserve for nearly a year before being replaced by a nervous young woman who asked to be called Nadia. Nadia whirled around the place like a Tasmanian devil on crack and left three months later. She was followed by an older woman, Ava, who hardly went into the Preserve. She seemed to spend all her time baking.

After extensive testing, Peter reported to Derek that none of Ava’s cookies, cakes, loaves, muffins, or pies held any traces of poison. He also began a daily exercise regime; not even a werewolf metabolism could burn that many calories without help.

Meanwhile, Derek shuffled all his puppies to and from therapy while attending twice-weekly sessions himself.

Two years after she arrived back in Beacon Hills, Cora left again. Unlike her last departure, this was a relatively happy occasion. Relatively, because Peter could see that Derek really would have preferred Cora to stay closer to home. Still, that didn’t stop him from farewelling her with a smile.

By that time, the Hale pack was back on stable footing.

The new Hale house had been built in the Preserve. Many of the temporary Emissaries had added warding and shielding at various stages of construction, pouring so much magic into the foundations alone that the house almost registered as a magical entity on its own.

Derek and Isaac were the only pack members still attending weekly therapy. Erica, Boyd, Lydia, and Jackson went once a month at Derek’s request, and not even Jackson minded obliging him.

With the pack running smoothly and nothing in Beacon Hills requiring his immediate attention, Peter was left at loose ends. He could have fulfilled the CLE requirements to reactive his license to practice law, but after some consideration decided not to.

Law had been a means to an end. Not an unpleasant one, but not what he would have chosen if he’d had access to the Hale bank accounts. Which he now did.

Derek wasn’t nearly as stingy as Talia had been. He was also more trusting with Peter than Peter deserved, sometimes. The Hale holdings were diverse; the portfolio included lands, stocks, and a rather astonishing collection of art and antiquities. The bank account was nothing to be sneezed at, either.

After an audit of the liquid assets, Derek placed half of them in Peter’s figurative hand and tasked him with making it grow. Over the following two years, Peter’s trading fully paid for the new Hale house, with some remaining for the pack’s college tuition.

At a suggestion from Noah, Peter contacted The Smiths and asked if they were interested in hiring him as a consultant.

The Smiths had offered him a position as an assessor and negotiator. Not like Tamara, who’d been the one to meet with Derek, but for magical communities involved in disputes that showed signs of turning violent.

It sounded interesting, so Peter agreed.

Over the next decade, Peter was sent to all the supernatural hotspots in the world. He’d be the first to admit that he wasn’t a natural diplomat—he was too fond of chaos to be the one tasked with smoothing ruffled feathers on a long term basis—but he was good at discovering what people wanted, what they would be willing to compromise on.

During his second mission, Peter realised what a golden opportunity he’d walked into. He was acting as peacemaker between a den of naga and a colony of selkie who both wanted to claim territorial rights over a small island. Neither side wanted to go to war, but neither was ready to cede to the other, either.

In order to know each side well enough to come to an equitable agreement, Peter delved into their daily lives, their customs and rituals. Once he had a firm handle on both cultures, it was easy to arrange an agreement. Despite both being water creatures, they occupied different ecological niches, and if both sides were willing to curb certain behaviours in certain areas, there wouldn’t be any strife.

Having learned all this specialised knowledge, Peter felt there must be some way to use it.

That’s when Peter decided to create the Compendium. A resource for supernaturals, detailing the customs and traditions of as many supernatural communities as Peter could find. There would be no names, no locations. Nothing that could tie the information to one clan or den or nest or pack.

Peter worked with Danny and later with Stiles to build a website that served as a repository for everything he learned. There were two main information troves: the first held current knowledge, gained first-hand from the source. The second was for less verified information, things from books and bestiaries that were yet to be confirmed by Peter or someone he trusted.

They were extremely careful about who was allowed access. The last thing anyone wanted was for a hunter group to get hold of some of this information and use it against the communities it was supposed to help.

Before long, any time in Peter’s schedule that wasn’t spoken for by the Smiths was spent searching out supernatural communities and adding their knowledge to his growing database. It was a dangerous business since people in hiding rarely enjoyed knowing they’d been discovered. The skills he’d learned as a negotiator and his natural wit and charm stood him in good stead.

The Compendium grew and evolved, adding a forum and becoming a safe place for disparate groups to discuss complex issues. Peter’s work for The Smiths started to taper off as his fame spread, and people contacted him directly.

Then, Stiles Stilinski returned to Beacon Hills.

Stiles’ confirmation as the Hale Pack Emissary reverberated through the pack bonds like an earthquake, leaving Peter shaky and wide-eyed. It was as if something he didn’t even know was missing had clicked into place. Peter felt whole and free for the first time in his memory, the constant tug pulling him back to the town of his birth finally releasing its hold.

After saying a hurried goodbye to Berat Akbas, the alpha currently hosting him, Peter was on the next flight to California to celebrate with the rest of his pack.

Peter had always respected Stiles, respected his drive and determination, his cunning mind and ruthless efficiency. The possibility that Stiles might be the Emissary the nemeton was waiting for was all that had kept him from insisting that Derek pull finger and make a choice from one of the many options The Smiths had sent their way over the years.

Cora’s confirmation that Stiles eventually intended to return to Beacon Hills had been enough for Peter to stay out of it. There was no point trying to hurry Stiles along; if Peter tried his usual manipulations, he might do more harm than good. Stiles had a twisty mind; there was a possibility that he’d work out what Peter was trying to achieve and deliberately do something completely different.

Peter didn’t think for a moment that it was a coincidence that Stiles’ reappearance in Beacon Hills happened at the same time as the Purge, the destruction of the worldwide hunter network. Whole hunter families went dark, their members dying in agony from undiagnosed illnesses that had doctors completely baffled.

Chris Argent and his daughter both fell victim to the mystery ailment. In fact, according to Peter’s information, the Argent hunting line was gone from the world forever.

When he heard, Peter felt a vicious joy that he didn’t even try to suppress. The Argents had targeted his family repeatedly; he was delighted that they were the ones who’d been wiped out instead.

He wasn’t surprised to discover that Stiles had done the impossible and placed a curse on hunters all over the globe. If anyone could attempt something that crazy and make it work, it was Stiles.

He did make a mental note that Stiles wasn’t to be messed with. Not beyond the friendly familial messing that Peter did with all his favourite people, anyway.

With Stiles’ official entry to the Hale pack came Stiles’ contacts in the supernatural world. Peter’s reach and access suddenly expanded to cover areas he’d never thought it was possible he’d be welcome in, including the powerful and influential Boston Guardians.

The morning following Stiles’ first full moon as Emissary, Peter was checking the status of his investments when Stiles knocked on his door. When Peter called out an invitation, he came in, looking around curiously. His gaze darted all over the place as he tried to see everything.

“I was surprised when Derek told me you lived at the main house,” Stiles said, running his fingers along the spines of the books on the bookshelf. “I mean, I knew you were a full pack member; I just thought you’d have an apartment or something.”

Peter sat back and watched him poke around. It reminded him of a cat introduced to a new territory. “I don’t spend enough time in Beacon Hills to justify the expense. Besides, this way, I can be confident that I won’t be burgled.”

Stiles laughed. “Good point.” He finished his inspection and turned to Peter, evaluating him with that clear gaze he shared with Noah. “Cora said you’d changed, but I never really believed it. I always expected you to show your true colours eventually. Now that I’ve seen you interact with everyone, I think I was wrong.”

Peter smirked. “How unexpectedly mature of you to admit.”

“You’re still a colossal bell-end,” returned Stiles. “Just not the kind likely to screw over the pack for shits and giggles.”

“Is there a reason for this charming affirmation?”

Stiles sighed. “My aunts want to talk to you. They’ve got questions about some of the stuff that went down in Beacon Hills before the fire, and you’re the only one who might be able to give them answers.”

Peter raised his eyebrows. “What’s in it for me?”

“That’s something you’ll have to take up with them. For what it’s worth, my advice is to do your bargaining with Danuta.”

Peter blinked. “Wait, Danuta? Your aunts are Danuta and Besi Gajos, Guardians of Boston’s nemeton?”

“You’ve heard of them.”

“Heard of them? They’re the unofficial power of the Eastern Seaboard. Word is they’ve got a squad of assassins on call that take out anyone who moves so much as a step out of line. They’re why Laura and Derek managed to survive New York; no one wanted to pick a fight in the Gajos Guardians territory.”

“Yeah, that’s them.”

That was mildly terrifying. Peter frowned. “They’re not going to kill me, are they?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “If they wanted you dead, they wouldn’t bother sending you an invitation. Besides, soon you’ll be related to them by marriage.”

Like being related to him had ever stopped people from trying to kill him before. Peter made a mental note to update his Will. “I’m happy to meet with them. Give me a time and a place, and I’ll be there.”

That was how Peter gained an introduction to two of the scariest, sexiest women he’d ever met.

Stiles was right that Danuta was the less cutthroat of the two, but that didn’t exactly make her a pushover. She was as observant as her nephew, always revaluating current data and extrapolating from it. The moment Peter looked even vaguely like he might be anything other than forthright with them, she wielded knowledge like the sharpest of blades.

While Danuta was kind eyes and hidden knives, Besi was a combination of lethal threat and take-no-prisoners follow through. Together they were a force of nature, wielding their power and influence deftly in the service of their nemeton and the wider community.

Peter left Boston with a hopeless crush on both of them.

Life resumed its usual pattern. Peter took full advantage of his new contacts, and the Compendium evolved yet again. Peter, Stiles, Derek, Noah, Danny, and Jordan began helping various clients solve supernatural mysteries that ordinary law enforcement couldn’t assist with.

Jordan sometimes went with Peter if a physical presence was required, but most of their cases were solved remotely. Sometimes a satisfied client would add themselves to a growing list of people that Peter could call on to assist him should he need aid.

Before long, the Compendium’s mystery-solving forum birthed an offshoot website called the Unriddler. The Unriddler’s primary focus was to untangle supernatural issues, from the mysterious to the mundane and annoying. It grew slowly and surely, and Peter was constantly on the move and on the lookout for suitable talent. The Compendium and the Unriddler remained closely allied with The Smiths, conferring on cases when necessary.

At first, Peter was surprised that Stiles wasn’t interested in doing any hands-on detecting. He’d thought it was the sort of thing that was right up his newest nephew’s street.

It wasn’t until Cora and Mari fell pregnant with the newest generation of Hales that Peter realised just how limited Stiles was by his ties to the nemeton.

Stiles mentioned being sad that his aunts couldn’t be present for the babies’ births, and Peter offered to help coordinate a visit.

“They can’t leave Boston,” Stiles told him. “Well, they can; the radius isn’t that small. They mapped it at about forty miles, which means they can even cross state lines into New Hampshire and Rhode Island. But any further is out of the question.”

Peter had always heard that a sworn Guardian couldn’t leave their nemeton, but he’d thought it was hyperbolic rather than literal. “Does that mean that you can’t leave Beacon Hills?”

Stiles shrugged. “I don’t know my exact range, but basically, yes. While I’m the Guardian, I’m tethered here.”

Peter loved travelling; he couldn’t imagine being stuck in one spot like that. “How can you stand it?”

“It’s a choice I made,” replied Stiles. “My aunts explained it to me when I was living with them. It’s why I never came back to visit, why my dad always came to Boston instead. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to see everyone; I just wasn’t ready to make that choice yet.”

Peter had another thought. “Does that mean that you’ll never see your aunts in person again?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Unless they choose to pass the Guardianship on, then they’ll be free to travel again. Most Guardians don’t, and I don’t expect them to be any different. But it’s not so bad. We’ve got Facetime and other video calling options to make it easier, so it’s not like I never see them.”

Peter wasn’t fooled. Stiles might be resigned to making the best of it, but it was still a difficult sacrifice. “If you like, when the pups are old enough to walk and talk, I can take them to Boston for a visit.”

Stiles’ eyes brightened. “Really? That would be great! You wouldn’t mind?”

“I like kids,” Peter admitted. “At least, I liked Cora and Derek when they were toddlers. I’m not that fond of kids I’m not related to.”

“Fair enough. I’ll let my aunts know.”

According to Stiles, Danuta and Besi were thrilled that they’d get to spend time with the next generation. Their happiness made Stiles happy, which reverberated through the pack bonds. Combined with the already euphoric joy attached to the pregnancies themselves, the whole pack spent months on what amounted to a dopamine high.

The aftereffect of second-hand joy was how Peter rationalised his offer to play courier for Danuta and Besi, personally driving their carefully crafted gifts for the babies from Boston to Beacon Hills. Magical items didn’t cope well with the postal system, too many people handling the package could disrupt delicate spells. It was probably Stiles’ second-hand dopamine rather than a desire to be helpful because Peter Hale was not helpful.

When he said as much out loud, Stiles laughed for five minutes straight.

Regardless of his motivations, Danuta and Besi were very appreciative. They made that clear when he arrived in February to follow through with his promise.

Very appreciative. In several different positions.

Peter woke up the next morning to the smell of freshly brewed coffee, feeling better than he had since he was a teenager. He didn’t often spend the night with his bed partners; he was too suspicious and distrustful to let himself be that vulnerable with strangers.

But Besi and Danuta weren’t strangers, even if he didn’t know them that well.

“Is this going to be weird?” Peter asked them over pancakes.

Besi shrugged. “I don’t see why it should be. We all had a good time, didn’t we?”

“I certainly did,” replied Peter. “I’m up for a repeat, if you’ve the inclination.”

Besi observed him over her coffee mug for a few seconds before glancing at her wife.

Danuta smiled. “We might be persuaded. Besi and I aren’t interested in a permanent third, but we’d be glad to have a regular playmate that we can trust. If you’re happy to be that for us, we can absolutely do this again.”

Peter leaned back in his chair. “So, friends with benefits? I stop by Boston on a semi-regular basis to catch up and have a little fun, but either party can end it at any time; no hard feelings?”

“Exactly. Whatever you get up to when you’re not with us is your business, and if you find a long-term partner and want to settle down, we’ll be thrilled for you.”

Peter was pessimistic by nature, but it was difficult to see a downside. The worst that could happen was they’d end up hating each other, at which point he just wouldn’t come back to Boston again, ever.

On the upside, sex with magic users was always exciting, and fucking two at a time was incredible.

Peter gave them his best come-fuck-me smile. “I’m all in.”

v^v^v^v

Elaria and Alessa were born on the Equinox, under a supermoon. Fenris was born a month later.

Peter held each of the new Hales in his arms and silently swore to make their health and happiness his priority. He stayed in Beacon Hills for over seven months, the longest he’d spent there since the new house had been built. It meant delegating some of the Unriddler’s cases to his junior partners, but Peter was too enraptured by the pups to care.

“Are you officially an elder now?” Stiles asked one afternoon when Fenris was six months old. “I asked Derek about it back when we first started dating. He said elders were named based on generational wisdom but that it didn’t count in the Hale pack because there were only two generations. But that’s not true anymore, is it?”

Peter didn’t feel all that old, but technically Stiles was probably right. “I suppose so. What brought this on?”

Stiles shrugged. “I was remembering that old tradition; the maiden, mother and crone. I was thinking that we still don’t have a crone, then it occurred to me that you might count.”

“A pack isn’t considered established until there’s an elder, an alpha, and at least one pup directly related to the alpha,” mused Peter, absently throwing Alessa in the air and catching her just before she hit the floor.

It was a game that never ceased to make her laugh in excitement. Neither Elaria nor Fenris minded being thrown around, but they didn’t delight in it the way Alessa did.

Alessa reminded Peter a lot of Cora when she was younger. He swooped her through the air. “Not that we need to worry about that. The Hale pack has been established for generations, and this is our ancestral territory. If even one of us remains, it’s enough to maintain our claim.” He threw Alessa high again.

At Stiles’ increasingly angry glare, Peter put her back down. Riling up Stiles was always a dangerous business; that inventive brain meant that his retaliation was something that Peter truly disliked. Not that fear stopped Peter from poking at Stiles completely; he just chose to pick his battles.

“The whole maiden, mother, and crone thing still doesn’t fit because we’re short a crone magic user,” Stiles continued, once his flying daughter was safely on the ground. “But it made me remember the ‘elder’ thing.”

“It’s a bit of a grey area,” admitted Peter. “Talia would be an elder, for sure, since her son is the alpha and has fathered the next generation. By the time Derek passes the alpha spark on, I’ll definitely qualify to be an elder.”

“Maybe you’ll even look like one by then.” Stiles watched indulgently as Fenris raised himself to his hands and knees, rocking experimentally. “That’s the way, son. Like this.” He crawled around on the floor to demonstrate. All three of the pups watched with interest.

Elaria looked over to Peter. Her evaluating stare reminded him a lot of Stiles.

Peter rolled his eyes. “No, sweetheart, I’m not going to crawl around on the floor like a moron for your amusement. I’m sure you’ll all work it out in no time.”

Elaria made a burbling noise that Peter chose to interpret as agreement.

The sound of Derek’s cruiser approaching caught all three babies’ attention. Elaria, the only one who was mobile, scooted on her back towards the door. Using her feet to propel herself headfirst, she covered the distance surprisingly quickly.

“I take it Daddy’s home,” said Stiles, getting to his feet. He picked Alessa up in one hand and Fenris up with the other and held them around their middles, arms and legs flailing, as he followed Elaria to the door. “Let’s not sit directly in front of the door, kochanie. Daddy needs to open it, which is difficult when you’re right in front of it. Maybe Uncle Peter will pick you up and make Daddy’s life easier.”

Peter scooped Elaria up, burying his face in her tummy and growling loudly. She enjoyed that as much as her sister liked being thrown in the air and erupted into delighted giggles.

When Derek came in, he was smiling. He plucked Alessa out of Stiles’ hands, rubbed cheeks with her quickly and then threw her in the air, much like Peter had earlier.

“Derek!” scolded Stiles, although it sounded half-hearted. He waited until Alessa was safely in Derek’s hands before leaning in for a welcoming kiss and cheek nuzzle. “And how is the Sheriff of Beacon County today?”

“Glad that I’m not still in a meeting with the mayor,” replied Derek. “There are days I miss being a social outcast. It made buying groceries a bit uncomfortable, but I never had to worry that my disinclination for small talk would offend people.”

Stiles wrinkled his nose. “Personally, I think the mayor just likes looking at you. I take it the budget meeting went long again?”

Derek leaned down to rub cheeks with Fenris before approaching Peter and Elaria to scent them too. “Sure did. It would have gone longer, but I mentioned the kids, which reminded him that I’ve got three babies at home, so he took pity on me.”

When the twins were born, Derek had started scenting his pack regularly. Peter took it as a sign that his nephew was almost healed. Being included in the greeting ritual also made Peter feel warm and fuzzy, as though he’d genuinely been forgiven for the wrongs he’d done his family.

“They’re due to start teething soon,” said Stiles. “That’ll be fun.”

Peter remembered what Cora’s teething was like—crying, drooling, chomping down on everything in sight. What a shame that he’d miss it. “I should probably tell you that I’m heading out again next week.”

Neither Stiles nor Derek looked surprised.

“I heard the territorial dispute in Sweden was on the verge of reigniting,” said Stiles. “I expected the alpha you’re chummy with to call for your help.”

Derek frowned. “Is he the right person for alpha? His pack can’t have much confidence in him if he’s constantly calling outsiders for assistance.”

“It’s complicated,” explained Peter. “There are six packs inhabiting an area only about half again the size of our territory. Four of those territories are ancient holdings held by small family packs. Lars has a larger, more diverse pack, but they’ve only held their land for the last hundred years. The sixth alpha, Timoteus Virtanen, arrived in the area a decade ago with two betas in tow. Since then, he’s been attempting to carve a niche out of the existing landscape.”

Stiles nodded slowly. “And Lars doesn’t just eliminate him because…”

“Because Timoteus Virtanen is closely related to the Demidovs, who’ve been known to react explosively to defend even outlying family members. Virtanen doesn’t challenge anyone directly, and he avoids Lars. Instead, he foments discord and distrust among the four smaller packs. If Lars acts against Virtanen without definitive provocation, the Demidovs will wipe his pack out.”

“I’m still not seeing why Lars needs you,” said Derek.

“The alphas of the four small packs don’t trust Lars. They’re worried that he might be playing a long game with Virtanen or that he has designs on their territories himself. Even in Europe, Hale is an old and respected name, so the four alphas are inclined to hear me out. It helps that I’m not an alpha, and I have no interest in the area. They can trust me to be impartial, and I’m not strong enough to be a threat to them. Even if I wanted to take a pack from one of them, the others would never allow an alpha from the USA to settle there.”

Stiles patted him on the shoulder. “Sounds irritating.”

Peter sighed. “Basically, I turn up and meet with them all individually, hear their sides of the story. I do a bit of investigating to ensure Virtanen is the culprit; then, I call a group meeting and lay out the truth of the matter. They all accept that the strife is caused by Virtanen and not by any of them, and things settle down again. Until next time.”

Derek scowled. “Surely something can be done. It can’t go on like that indefinitely.”

“I’ve not been able to think of anything that won’t just spark the war Lars is trying to avoid,” replied Peter. “Ideally, Virtanen would find somewhere else to settle and stop playing games. I’ve tried to steer him towards opportunities elsewhere, but he’s fixated on this small area adjacent to Storgräftån. To be honest, he’s an entitled asshole who can’t stand being told ‘no.’”

“Well, good luck,” said Stiles. “If the worst comes to the worst, tell Besi about it. If you go about it the right way, she might even agree to loan you her Shadow Squad.”

Peter decided not to mention that Besi had already made the suggestion. “Lars has had someone investigating the Demidovs for the past several years. They’ve been slowly working their way through the family in the hope of finding someone who knows why Virtanen is making trouble in Sweden.”

Derek’s scowl deepened. “You’re worried Virtanen might be a vanguard? Sent to destabilise the area?”

Peter shrugged. “It seems unlikely, given that he only brought two betas. If it is, I don’t think it’s a move that has been authorised by the Demidov Alpha. On the other hand, who knows what sneaky manoeuvrings are happening under the surface? If we can get some convincing evidence that one of the Demidov secondary alphas has overstepped their bounds, I can stop messing around in Sweden and go straight to the top.”

“If that’s an option, why can’t you just complain about Virtanen?” asked Stiles. “No, wait, let me guess. He’s not important enough to complain about without looking like a petty idiot who can’t take care of business. An interfering petty idiot with a saviour complex.”

“Exactly. My hope is that we’ll either discover who’s pulling Virtanen’s strings or learn that the Demidovs disowned him and won’t bat an eyelash if someone else takes care of him. Either way, I can help avert a possible international incident with a high potential to spill over into the mundane world.”

“Good luck,” said Stiles. “Let us know how it turns out. And don’t stay away too long; we’ll miss you.”

v^v^v^v

It was nearly a year before Lars managed to gather the proof Peter needed, irrefutable evidence that one of the Demidov secondary alphas was attempting to set up a colony without the primary alpha’s permission. Within a day of Peter’s interview with the primary alpha, a humourless woman who’d only managed to stay at the top of her formidable family by being a complete and utter badass, the erring secondary alpha was dead, along with several of his inner circle.

Virtanen and his betas were recalled, and six months later, Lars was able to report that nothing even slightly worrying had happened in that time.

Lars’s informant with the Demidovs was extracted without anyone being the wiser as to her purpose there. Having gained a taste for spying, she offered to join Peter’s network.

Peter himself was sent an invitation to the annual moon festival held by the Demidov Alpha, an honour that not many foreigners had been granted.

Thanks to forewarning from Danuta, Peter was aware that the moon festival was an unofficial marriage market. Since Peter didn’t want to find himself married off to an eligible partner and couldn’t refuse the invitation without offending, he was in a bit of a bind.

It was Mari who suggested the solution. “This is where you should lean on your status as an elder. Take Cora with you. She’s highly ranked without being an alpha, and she’s already mated with children. Her children are too young to be making partnerships, but a relationship with her will open the door to future possibilities.”

Cora nodded. “So, we’re basically saying, ‘We’re not in the market for a marriage right now, come back in a couple of decades.’”

“Exactly,” said Mari. “Peter, do you think you can manage to look and smell sad whenever the topic of marriage is raised? That will give the impression that you’ve loved and lost and aren’t willing to go there again. Just don’t overdo it. You want your subtext to stay subtext.”

Peter was impressed. “I never knew you were this devious. Are you interested in a job? I’m always looking for people who can think on their feet and who can navigate tricky situations.”

Mari patted him on the shoulder. “I’m happy to consult, but I’m not interested in being on one of your teams.”

Mari’s suggestion worked perfectly. Cora was a wonderful blend of polite and don’t-give-a-fuck, managing to piss off the traditionalists without doing anything they could call her on the carpet for. The Demidov Alpha loved her, inviting Cora and Mari to stay with her for a few weeks. And with that, Peter had an in with one of the most powerful alphas in Russia.

Peter’s already busy life went into overdrive. His time was booked nearly a year in advance, and he’d had to hire someone full time just to make all his travel arrangements and bookings. The only breaks were caused by occasional issues with acquiring Visas; Peter tended to take advantage of those periods of downtime by spending time in Beacon Hills and Boston.

Despite making the cost of their services very reasonable, both the Compendium and the Unriddler were raking in money.

“I don’t know what to do with it all,” said Peter to Stiles one afternoon just after the twins turned three. “The Hales don’t exactly need it.”

“You could set up a charitable foundation,” suggested Stiles. “Something to help supernatural beings who find themselves needing to relocate for whatever reason. Not everyone has the kind of wealth the Hales do, and as technology advances, it’s only going to get more difficult for various beings to pass employment screening for good jobs. The foundation could buy land, creating communities where people could live and work without fear of discovery.”

Peter narrowed his eyes, “Are you trying to get me to fund Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley?”

“No!” Stiles denied. He paused. “Maybe? We could set wards so that people who’re not in the know aren’t interested in visiting or living there. Everything would be above board and legal; I’m not suggesting anything like Harry Potter’s Statute of Secrecy. But if there were businesses, farms, and things, there would be real jobs that could give supernaturals on the job training and references. Opportunities.”

Peter thought about the amount of work something like that would entail. “I barely have enough time for my life as it is, Stiles. I don’t have time to oversee anything that large.”

“You don’t have to. If you’re truly interested, I can talk to some of my old professors at Albion. Doing something like this was already under discussion when I was a student. Back then, we were worried that the hunters would find any communities we built and target them before we could be properly established, but that isn’t a problem anymore.”

“Let me think about it,” said Peter. “I’ve been asked to investigate something in Australia that I’ve rearranged several months of work for, and after that, I’ll be in Canada. I probably won’t be back here until September, at least. Put together a general idea of what you think it would look like, and we can talk about it then.”

Stiles nodded. “Cora and Mari are taking the kids to Peru for a few months, so I’ll have time on my hands. Why don’t I make a couple of calls, find out who’s doing what? Now that I’m thinking about it, I kinda want to find out if it ever got off the ground. It might be that only the Europeans have made any developments, which will be interesting too.”

Peter made a quick stop in Boston before leaving for Australia. Since it had begun, his arrangement with Besi and Danuta had deepened and matured. While they weren’t a formal triad and probably never would be, they weren’t as casual as they used to be.

While Peter didn’t share Danuta and Besi’s deep connection, they were probably his best friends outside the pack. They were his confidantes, the ones he could share all his hopes and fears with, who encouraged him and counselled him. They also continued to have some scorching hot sex. It was exactly what Peter needed.

Despite what his panicked Adelaide-based contact told him, the situation in Australia turned out not to be a situation at all. By the time Peter arrived at the meeting ground, both parties had put aside their differences to get drunk on wolfsbane infused home-distilled vodka. It tasted terrible but was excellent for getting werewolves smashed and had no adverse side effects.

Peter decided not to waste the trip and joined them.

The party lasted until the vodka ran out, which was a week. After that, everyone seemed to get on fine, laughing and joking as they departed back to their territories.

As they packed up, Peter asked one of the alphas what the dispute had been about.

Donna obligingly explained. “A few of the younger lads got a bit aggro and had a barney about something. I reckoned they were feeling a bit cooped up, needed some socialisation. So, I had a word with Deano, and then I invited the Bentons over to the campsite for a piss up to get things sorted. The lads had a supervised punch up, and after that, we all got legless. What do you think of our hooch?”

“It’s pretty great,” Peter admitted. “All of the other wolfsbane laced alcohol I’ve tried has a recommended upper limit to avoid accidentally getting poisoned. This stuff is amazing.”

“It’s all in the prep beforehand,” said Donna. “Get it wrong, and you’re puking your guts out. Get it right, and you can scull it like water. Although, I’ve got to say, mate, I’m not sure why you’re here if it wasn’t for the booze.”

Peter shrugged. “Someone requested I come and sort out a territory dispute.”

Donna cackled. “Mate! You’ve been had! Some larrikin’s been pulling your leg. One of those lads, yeah? Because their bust-up was only a couple of weeks ago, and it takes longer than that to get a visa. Mind you, might as well take advantage. Want to try our scotch? You’re welcome to bunk up with us awhile, if you’ve a mind.”

As annoying as it was to travel so far on a wild goose chase, Peter had to admit that just getting his hands on the alcohol was worth the trip. Since he didn’t have to be in Canada until the end of June, there was nothing to stop him from taking Donna up on her offer of hospitality and getting to know them all.

It turned out to be a great decision.

The vodka was great, but the scotch was incredible. Deano and Donna refused point-blank to give Peter the recipe but were happy to sell it to him. Peter immediately bought a case of the scotch and put an order in for a couple of cases of the vodka.

“You’ll have to wait for the next batch,” Donna informed him. “I’m not that keen on sending it through customs; we don’t want the scrutiny. But if you’re happy to take the risk, then good on you.”

“You’re not the only supernatural person I know who doesn’t want to use regular post,” mused Peter. “Maybe that’s something to look into. If you found a carrier you liked, you could make a fortune selling this around the world.”

Donna wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know if Deano would like that. He fiddles with the booze for fun, and what you’re suggesting sounds too much like hard work.”

Peter shrugged. “Fair enough. I’ll just have to stop by years or so to restock.”

Donna laughed and slapped him on the back. “No worries! You’ll be welcome. Tell you what, though; Deano’s right fond of Bowmore scotch. Doesn’t even care that it won’t get him pissed; says it tastes like heaven. Bring him a few bottles of that every time you stop in, and he’ll think the sun shines out of your arse.”

Not one to let an opportunity pass him by, Peter went into Adelaide specifically to get his hands on some Bowmore. He brought it straight to Deano, who was as thrilled as Donna said he’d be. In thanks, he let Peter taste some of his experimental efforts, both the good and the bad.

“You’re some kind of genius,” Peter told him after trying his attempt at wolfsbane infused chocolate liqueur. “The first sip is terrible, but somehow by the third, this is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“You can’t have too much,” warned Deano. “That one kicks like a mule, leaves you with a nasty headache. I used ordinary tap water, and I think the fluoride reacted badly with the secondary compound. It fizzed a lot more than the one I made using filtered water. It tastes much better, though. Here, try the filtered version.”

Peter agreed that the tap water version was better. “Have you tried using tap water but just filtering out the fluoride?”

“I don’t really have the know-how,” admitted Deano. “I never did well in chemistry; this is just a hobby. Here, try this one I made with spinach. It was a dare to see if I could. Some like it, some don’t. More don’t, to be honest.”

Peter wrinkled his nose at the smell but tried it anyway. “You can add another to the ‘don’t’ column.”

Even without the alcohol, Peter would have had a great time; everyone in Donna’s pack was laid back and welcoming in a way that he’d never experienced before. None of them even blinked when he revealed his blue eyes, which was a first, at least as far as unfamiliar packs were concerned.

When he questioned Donna about it, she shrugged. “It’s not that big a deal here. Everyone’s got a past; it’s who you are now that’s important.”

Peter didn’t know if that was admirable or naive.

He did investigate who was behind his presence in Australia, but neither of the young men involved in the fight admitted to being the ones who’d misled his Adelaide contact so well. If Peter had to hazard a guess, he’d say it was Dave, Donna’s youngest son. He was a cunning young pup, good at getting his way in slightly unconventional ways. While he hadn’t been directly involved in the fight, he was there when it took place.

Dave reminded Peter a bit of himself at that age, bursting to prove himself and wanting to get away from a life that seemed dull and predictable. He wasn’t just intelligent; he was smart, good at using his knowledge for his own benefit and the benefit of his pack.

After getting to know him, Peter decided to offer Dave a sponsorship to Albion. Not for some years yet, Dave had only just started high school, but in the future. He was just working out the best way to broach the subject with Donna when Besi called him to drop some barely-veiled hints about mysterious happenings back in Beacon Hills.

Peter rolled his eyes and went to tell Donna and Deano that he was needed at home. They sent him away with an entire case of special scotch, even though he’d already gone through half the amount he’d initially bought.

He was waiting to board when Derek finally called. Peter nearly let it go to voicemail but picked it up at the last minute because he was curious. Derek proceeded to tell him about a dragon egg that Stiles found in the Preserve and that while at first, only Stiles could touch it, as of about an hour prior, Derek could touch it too.

Peter mentally willed the airline to hurry up. If he missed the hatching of a dragon egg, he would be so pissed. And not in the fun Australian sense.

v^v^v^v

The strange meeting with the adult dragon at the nemeton was overshadowed by the hatching of the dragon child entrusted to the Hale pack.

Mareth Stilinski, Peter’s new nibling, was a delight. A natural shapeshifter, they never went more than a few days before changing something about themselves. Although their first presentation was as male, within a day, they’d also presented as female. Questioning revealed they didn’t want to be pigeonholed as either gender.

No one in the Hale pack cared. Except possibly Tori, who declared that it was grossly unfair that she didn’t get to shapeshift into a male form whenever she wanted.

Cora and Mari brought Elaria, Alessa, and Fenris home from Peru two weeks early because they all wanted to meet the pack’s newest member. Derek took a week off work, and they all went deep into the woods for an impromptu camping trip, taking Noah along with them.

Noah was as thrilled with his new grandchild as he’d been with the other three. He also enjoyed guilt-tripping his son about being left out of the loop and missing the hatching, although he was careful only to do it when Derek wasn’t around.

Derek was still slightly sensitive about his performance as alpha. It was easy for him to start doubting himself if he thought he’d disappointed Noah, who’d practically adopted him after Stiles left for Boston. He was slowly getting better, but it made Noah a bit more careful about the ‘jokes’ he made around Derek.

Each night after the pups were asleep, the adults would gather around Stiles’ magical, non-burning fire and talk. Sometimes Peter could be convinced to share some of his scotch—Noah didn’t drink these days, although he wouldn’t have been able to touch that particular scotch anyway—and they’d tell stories of past days.

The night before they were due to pack up and head back to civilisation, Peter sipped his scotch and reflected on how unexpected life could be.

In the last two decades, the Hale pack had undergone several dramatic transformations. They went from a large, thriving, well-respected pack to an alpha with a single beta, to just Derek, alone.

Derek’s first attempt at rebuilding the Hale pack went wrong in so many ways it was hard to believe they’d all survived those years intact. But then Peter had been resurrected, Cora had returned, and suddenly things started going right.

Now, they were a strong and respected pack again, Guardians to a flourishing nemeton and with a skilled and ruthless Emissary defending them. Their enemies were defeated, and their pups were flourishing.

Peter’s simple online Compendium had grown into a worldwide network that helped support supernaturals in many ways. Slowly, things kept being added to it. Infrastructure was being built that would allow supernaturals of all kinds to grow, re-establishing some of the links that the growing hunter presence over the last couple of hundred years had nearly destroyed.

Peter just hoped that by the time Stiles’ curse ran its course and the hunters started to re-emerge—as they surely would—the supernatural world would have support systems in place. He wanted future generations to be able to grow up without living in fear that the hunters might descend upon them, wiping out even solid and prosperous communities.

As improbable as it had seemed when he was a child, Peter now had all the fame he’d ever wanted while doing interesting and varied work that took him all over the world. He had a pack that supported him, which he loved more than his own life and companions of the heart who embraced him without tying him down.

Peter Hale was living his best life.