Chapter Text
The journey to the surface isn’t long, but it’s harried. They’re chased by rock and rubble from the collapsing tunnel and the only reason they’re still traveling on the tracks is because of magic mingling amongst the survivors—Stiles is sure of it. As they break through the darkness and out into the wide open space of the night sky, the magic ceases and the tunnel is buried, abandoned forever to the rock inside the mountain. Dust envelops them when the shuttle shudders and jerks to a stop. It’s quiet for a few breaths and then the realization sinks in that they’re free. Some survivors escape into the woods, some are too shocked to move, and some jump down from the shuttle to wander amongst the surrounding buildings to make sure there are no guards left alive. And some just stare at the full moon brightening the sky, taking deep breaths to smell the fresh wooded air.
Beneath Stiles’ hands, Derek’s body trembles, and his clothes shred apart as he transforms into his wolf form. Springing onto all fours, he shakes out his fur, and then lifts his head, howling at the full moon high in the sky peeking over the mountain. Answering howls come from the front of the shuttle and the back. All around them, the wolves greet his call. Derek leaps from the shuttle and he’s barrelled over by three other wolves. There’s a cacophony of yips and barks as they tussle with each other, tongues lolling from the side of their mouths in playful wrestling. Derek’s the only black wolf while the others are a mix of gray and white with brown and red highlights along their fur. The lightest colored wolf and the largest spies Stiles and trots over to the shuttle, looking up at him.
“Peter?” Stiles asks, laughing as Peter shifts back to human. He’s already seen him naked, but it’s still unnerving to be around so much bare flesh. He’s just never been comfortable with nudity and he’s certainly getting an eyeful tonight amongst all the survivors.
“Thank you,” Peter says, helping Stiles down from the shuttle.
“Me? For what?” But Peter just rolls his eyes.
Other wolves have joined the fray, dancing, and play-fighting under the full moon until one of Derek’s sisters raises her head and howls and the others join in, even Peter does. It’s magical and haunting like they’re howling for what they’ve been through and all those who were lost. Peter nudges Stiles’ elbow, hinting he should join in.
“I’m not a wolf,” he says.
“You’re carrying werewolves, Stiles,” Peter says. “You’re one of us. Join us and howl.” So Stiles does, tapping into that wolf power he’s carrying. He howls for the time lost, for finding Lumi and knowing he’ll have to lose them, and he howls for his dad with the hope they can repair their relationship. He howls for Derek’s pain and the joy he has for his family and the new one they’re about to begin. He howls until his voice gives out and all his bottled-up emotions are expelled.
When they’re finished, Derek returns to Stiles’ side, and in one smooth move, he’s human again, naked with his arms around Stiles, lifting him to swing him around.
“I love you,” Derek says, whispering in his ear.
“Now you love me?” Stiles’ voice cracks.
“I’ve always loved you,” Derek says. “No matter what happens or is going to happen, I want to go through it with you. I love you and not because of circumstance. I just wanted to say it under a moon where we’re free.”
Stiles’ eyes fill with tears. Damn these hormones! And damn Derek for being perfect and saying the perfect things. “You just had to one-up me, didn’t you?” Stiles says, smiling. “Don’t ever almost die on me ever again.”
“Never.” He rests his forehead against Stiles’.
“We’re free.” Stiles takes a deep breath. Or almost free. They need to find a way off this mountain before Reddick’s soldiers come after them, or worse, the military. Now that they’re here out in the open and vulnerable again, there’s an obvious flaw in their plan with Lumi and the bubs. How are they going to get them to safety? No sooner does he think it when Lumi clambers down from the shuttle, trilling like a happy loon, holding Shellby and Bertie high in the air. A tentacle wraps around Stiles’ wrist and Stiles is inundated with so much information he staggers on his feet.
“Whoa,” he says. “Slow down. You’re what?” His heart clenches at what he thinks Lumi says, and it’s that they’re leaving. It’s their time to go.
Around them, collective gasps interrupt Stiles’ thoughts, and Derek’s incessant tapping turns his attention to the sky where moments ago only the moon lit their way. High in the night sky, bright blue lights hover above them, and with the red flames of HAC burning off in the distance of the hills, it’s like the sky has turned purple. All they need is some rain, and he’d think the apocalypse was upon them, but no, it’s a spaceship. A certifiable unidentified flying object—a UFO.
“Lumi,” Stiles exhales, “is that them? They’re here?” He’s excited and terrified all at once. Not terrified of them, he’s afraid of what this means for their relationship. He has to say goodbye to Lumi and the bubs and he’s not ready. Not ready at all. They’ve barely had any time together, and now that they’re free, they can laugh and explore, and share so many more experiences. They can build on their friendship—build a family. But Lumi is leaving. Logically, he knows this is how it has to be. There isn’t a life for Lumi and the bubs here on Earth. They would live their lives in hiding, constantly under the threat of discovery, and Stiles knows there isn’t a safe enough place for them to be happy with him. They’d be trading one prison for another. It isn’t fair because his pups will never meet the bubs. They’ll never feel what it’s like to be held in Lumi’s tentacles or hear the soft trilling sounds that are musical and soothing. He wants Lumi and the bubs in their lives. He wants to see the bubs grow into their personalities, and be present for their life’s milestones—whatever they may be. None of this is fair because he’s not ready to say goodbye.
Come with us, Lumi says.
He’s flooded with images of bright stars in collections of spiral shapes—galaxies far beyond Stiles’ imagination. Lumi presents a peaceful and fruitful life to him that’s filled with adventure and exploration, and most importantly, the bubs he’s come to love. He wants to shout yes, jump into Lumi’s tentacles, and have the ship carry them away. Gladly, he’d leave behind this earth to travel the strange and unexplored beyond. He gets a poke, and then another, from inside his stomach. He looks down, placing his hands over his belly, and then meets Derek’s worried gaze, like he knows what Stiles is thinking—what Lumi has asked. Stiles glances at the faces behind Derek, to his uncle and sisters, and the other wolves he’s not yet met. He looks around the clearing at all the displaced survivors and how they’ll need help to find their homes or somewhere to call home. Stiles can’t leave them, not after what they’ve been through. He can’t ask Derek to say goodbye to the family he just found, and Stiles can’t leave his father, not like this. Not again. His place is here. He has a purpose now, and he’ll make damn sure nothing like this ever happens again.
“I can’t,” Stiles says even though Lumi already knows his answer. “My life is here.” He looks around at all the frightened faces. “With them. There’s much to be done, and Derek and I have to see it through.” Lumi’s tentacle strokes Stiles’ temple in understanding. “I love you, Lumi. I love what we created.” He leans forward, holding his arm out for the bubs. Shellby moves across his skin first, climbing up his arm to his neck, and wrapping tiny tentacles around Stiles’ head. Bertie, a little more sullen and confused, follows up the other arm.
“Don’t be like that.” Stiles tickles Bertie. “I’ll never forget you. You’re a part of me.” He nuzzles his face against them both. They trill and coo, secreting their sticky goo all over his lips and cheeks. “Thanks, bubs.” He laughs. “I love you so very, very much.” He takes a hold of them in each palm, lifting them to eye level. Even though he’s saying the words, he thinks in images and feelings so they can understand. “You be good. Don’t get into any trouble, okay? Be brave.” He kisses Bertie. “Be bold.” He kisses Shellby and then hands his little bubs back to Lumi. Rushing forward, he throws himself onto Lumi’s soft body and it’s like jumping on a giant, fluffy pillow if that pillow was smooth and clammy and extraterrestrial.
“I’m sorry, Lumi. I’m so sorry for what was done to you and your companions.”
A long, thin tentacle reaches out to caress Stiles’ cheek. You have made this journey worth the heartache and sorrow. My children will always remember where they came from and who gave them life. And who it was who saved them. Lumi reaches another tentacle toward Derek, softly stroking his arm. Take care of my human, Derek, and the two who will meet this world soon, Lumi says. May it be kind to them.
There’s a thickness in his throat as he chases away his tears. He doesn’t want to cry, not if this goodbye means Lumi and the bubs will be safe. His chest may ache for some time and there will always be an empty place in his heart for them, but this is a once-in-a-millennia kinship he will never forget.
Lumi meets his eyes one last time and Stiles sees the infinite universe shining in them, and before he gets swept away in the vastness, Lumi says, Look to the stars and remember us, for one day we may meet again.
“We’ll hold on to that hope,” Derek says, because Stiles can’t speak.
The markings on Lumi’s skin glow their phosphorescence and instead of the blue and green that Stiles is used to, they glow in every color of the rainbow. It’s magical and with his eyes full of tears, it’s like a kaleidoscope of patterns and colors dancing as Lumi shuffles along the forest floor and over to the clearing where the ship has started its descent. It’s going to land. The UFO is touching down on this earth and Stiles is witnessing it. The roar of the wind and the ship’s engines drown out the cheerful sounds Lumi and the bubs make. Derek holds on to Stiles, shielding his face from the dust that’s kicked up, waiting until it subsides. When Stiles swivels his head around, Lumi is already on the ramp with their body silhouetted by the interior lights of the ship. There are others like Lumi hovering in the doorway, tentacles moving in the air and Stiles cries at the wondrous reunion. He sobs, manically waving his hand in the air back and forth, and in return, there’s a farewell of tentacles and then there are three little nudges inside his head projecting joy and love. It makes it a little easier to say goodbye. But only a little.
He watches the door close, his last glimpse of his found family, and even though he’s full of sorrow, he’s relieved they’re safe. The engine roars to life, and the dust and wind return, but he can’t look away. The lights hover in the sky for a few breaths and when he blinks, his eyes open to a dark sky where the moon is all alone.
Stiles must’ve been standing and staring for some time because the urgency in Peter’s voice is enough to snap Stiles out of his melancholy. “Nephew, we need to go,” Peter says.
Stiles’ lion-man appears from the shuttle. He’s pale and sweaty, but alive. He tilts his head, acknowledging Stiles. It’s unspoken, what’s between them. They saved each other’s lives and whatever debt was owed has been paid.
Stiles gets his first look at Derek’s sisters. Even if he hadn’t known who they were, the family resemblance is easy enough to spot. They share the same dark features as Derek, the same chiseled cheekbones, and their eyes are the familiar hazel green he’s come to know so well.
“Those lights will have drawn a lot of attention,” Peter adds. There’s no time for introductions. That will have to wait. Derek stiffens, and all the wolves and shapeshifters turn their gazes to the road. Peter curses as he quietly and quickly tells everyone to head to the woods.
“What’s wrong?” Stiles asks.
“There’s a vehicle coming up the road,” Derek says, taking hold of Stiles’ arms to push him toward the tree line. If they’re going to escape through the woods with everyone, it’s going to be slow. Nearly all are naked and scared and some of them look like Reddick was starving them. And then there’s Stiles. Pregnant and human. He’ll easily hinder their travel and not to mention they don’t know where they’re going, and what they’ll do once they get there.
“Only one?” Stiles asks.
“Sounds like it,” Derek says. “Bigger engine, so it might be a truck.”
“I will lead them away,” the lion-man says.
“No! No way.” Stiles jerks his arm out of Derek’s grip. “You almost just died. We all go, Mr. Lion-man.”
The lion-man smiles, and it lights up the darkness. “Bayo. My name is Bayo, Fierce One. And I will not get caught. I will see you soon.” He shifts into his lion and disappears into the shadows.
They’re a few feet from the treeline when headlights appear on the road, aiming right at them. The truck comes to a stop, the engine idling as the headlights shine bright on Derek and Stiles. The lights make it impossible to see who’s behind the wheel. Two men emerge from the truck. Stepping onto the road, they’re immediately engulfed in shadow. Derek pushes Stiles behind him.
“Run,” he says, flicking his claws, ready for a fight. But as the driver steps in front of the truck, the headlight silhouettes his body, and Stiles recognizes that shape. His heart pounds and his stomach sinks when he sees Bayo step out of the shadows.
“Dad!” Stiles jerks out of Derek’s arms, running toward the lights, waving his arms. “Dad!” He runs, trying not to trip on the upturned roots and stones, getting one last burst of energy to stop his dad from getting mauled by a lion. “It’s my dad!” He falls into his dad’s arms, huffing and puffing and pretty close to peeing his pants from the excitement.
“Stiles?” His dad catches Stiles easily, surrounding him in an all-encompassing hug that’s overflowing with love and refuge. “Stiles.” His dad breathes into his neck. They hug for a better part of a minute while Stiles just takes in the scent of his dad’s aftershave, the same one he’s used his entire life because it was his mom’s favorite, and his dad never had the heart to change it. He’s crying—they both are—and his dad is the one to break their reunion.
“I should’ve known you’d be in the middle of all this.” He laughs as he softens his hold on Stiles. With his hands gripping Stiles’ shoulders, he looks him up and down. “Stiles,” he says. “What have you got yourself into?”
Stiles sobs and laughs all in one breath. “I don’t even know where to start,” he confesses. “How did you find me?”
“After our phone call, I pulled your bank records.” He whistles low, shaking his head. “That kind of money? I knew you’d done something stupid. And what’s the stupidest thing you can do for that kind of money? Figured it had something to do with HAC.”
“I’m sorry, Dad.”
“No, hey, kiddo. I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner. This isn’t the first time I’ve been up here. The damn county sheriff wouldn’t look into my requests. Parrish and I thought we’d come and do a little reconnaissance.” He waves his hand to his most trusted deputy and friend.
“Hey, Jordan,” Stiles says.
“Good to see you, Stiles. You had a lot of people worried.” He gives Stiles a once-over with an expression full of confusion.
“We’ve been running surveillance for a while,” his dad continues, “and when we saw the fire, we expected the worst.” He squeezes Stiles’ shoulders. “Then we saw the blue lights overhead and Parrish found this old service road, so we hightailed it up here to get a closer look.”
“Aliens, Dad. It was an alien ship!” Stiles bounces on his toes, smiling.
“Aliens? Stiles…”
“I know. I know. That’s not where I should start the story.” Stiles presses his hands to his mouth, thinking about how or where to begin. He glances behind him to where Derek and his family huddle near the trees, listening but trying to give them their privacy. Derek is waiting, and through the bond, there’s fear and uncertainty which Stiles will not tolerate.
“Derek!” It’s all he says before Derek is at his side, head bowed and shoulders curled forward. Derek has never been shy about his nudity, but meeting your mate’s father without a stitch of clothing must be intimidating. There’s nothing to be done about it, though.
“Dad,” Stiles says, reaching for Derek’s hand to give him courage, “there’s so much I need to tell you, but first, this is Derek Hale. HAC imprisoned him against his will. He’s important to me. For all intents and purposes, we’re married. He’s my husband, and where he goes, I go. And,” he takes a breath, “he’s a werewolf, along with his uncle and sisters.” He gestures toward the trees.
His dad has always been good at masking his expressions—it’s what makes him a great sheriff. And as Stiles waits to hear what argument his dad is about to unleash, he holds his breath.
“Derek,” the sheriff says like he’s trying out his name before saying anything else. He looks beyond Derek’s shoulder to Peter and his sisters, and then over to Parrish. He wipes a hand over his face before narrowing his eyes. “Parrish, dig some clothes out of our bags and get the blankets. See what you can find and help these people.” Parrish doesn’t even pause, just follows through with the order.
His dad takes a deep breath, sighing. “Where he goes you go?” he asks Stiles.
“That’s right.”
“Well, Derek,” he stares at Derek until he’s forced to meet his eyes, “I hope Beacon Hills is your first stop because I’d really like my son to come home.”
“Yes, sir,” Derek says, shifting his feet, but keeping his gaze.
“Do you mean that?” Stiles asks.
“I thought I lost you, Stiles.” He puts his arm around him. “I won’t lose you again.”
They hug until the pressure on his belly becomes noticeable. “There’s one more thing I need to tell you before you hear the entire story,” Stiles says. “A big thing.”
“This have anything to do with whatever’s underneath that oversized sweatshirt?”
Stiles nods, grinning. “HAC is a genetic research facility, Dad. They were experimenting with all kinds of shit and ruining people’s lives. But one good thing—well, two good things, or technically three—came out of what they did to me.” He lifts his sweatshirt, placing his hands on his protruding stomach. “Surprise! You’re going to be a grandpa.”
He probably should’ve made his dad sit down for this bit of news and eased into it, but the glaringly obvious size of his gigantic belly isn’t something that can wait. It announces itself with giant neon arrows. And maybe his dad will go easier on him if he knows Stiles is in a delicate position. They don’t have time for him to go into the details of how this happened, not that he wants to. Shuddering, he thinks about how he’ll explain wolf sex and knots and the hormonal sex-crazed heat he went through. Maybe his dad will get enough of an idea that he won’t ever want to know the finer details.
His dad looks from Derek to Stiles and back to Derek, who nods just once, eyes shining in the beam of the headlights.
“Ah, hell, kid,” he says, pulling Stiles into another hug. “Now I don’t know what to say or where to begin.” He kisses the top of Stiles’ head. “I love you and always will, but sometimes you really like to test me.”
Stiles laughs. “Just wait. There’s so much I have to tell you.”
Bayo appears at the side of the truck, back in his human form with a pair of boxers that look like they might be his dad’s. “Sirens,” he says, tilting his head to the wind. Stiles can’t hear them, but he trusts the shifter’s senses.
His dad doesn’t even blink or balk, just squeezes him one last time before letting him go. “Let’s get everyone out of here before law enforcement or the military show up.”
“Um, Dad?” Stiles says. “There are others. A lot of them. They need our help.”
His dad sighs, shoulders slumping. He takes a few breaths, thinking about his next move. “Parrish!” he calls out. “Round anyone up who wants to come with us. We’ll carry as many as we can in the truck and get them to safety.”
“Most of us can run,” Derek says, his eyes flashing red.
“All right, then. Follow us if you can,” his dad says. Stiles tears up again as his chest fills with love and admiration for the man who raised him and his kind heart. They load up the truck with those who can’t run or are too weak to travel. The wolves and the shapeshifters, including Derek, run alongside the truck, flanking it like they’re its protectors, and maybe they are because they’re not safe, yet, not while they’re in this county.
Stiles sits in the truck’s cab between his dad and Parrish, who drives them down the mountain. The long tale begins with how they needed money, so he applied to HAC for one of their Explorations. He tells him everything—well, not everything, sparing his dad and Parrish the intimate details of his time during his Explorations. But he shares tidbits so he can explain how Lumi, Bertie, and Shellby came into his life. He isn’t about to leave them out of his journey. They deserve to have their stories heard and for his dad to know who they are.
And then there’s his pregnancy. It’s not like he can gloss over the fact he’s pregnant. It didn’t happen by immaculate conception or a test tube, so he reveals enough for them to infer, and then he tells them what it means to be mated to a werewolf. He confesses about killing a man, and what they did to escape. He tells him about the glass wall of the Macabre. When he’s finished, his father wipes Stiles’ tears, lays his head on his shoulder, and implores Stiles to rest. His dad promises he’s safe and that no one will harm him or his grandchildren ever again.
<<EPILOGUE>>
This isn’t how Stiles imagined his wedding. He never factored in crying babies interrupting the ceremony, and he sure as hell didn’t imagine standing in the deep woods of the forest surrounded by fairies, centaurs, elves, and other shapeshifters as witnesses. A lion and a phoenix stand next to his dad and his best friend, and werewolves make up Derek’s side. In front of an altar composed of wildflowers, a witch waits for them to recite their vows at dusk on the evening of a full moon. It’s surreal. It’s perfect—apart from one or two tiny hiccups.
Derek furrows his brows, making the face that warns Stiles he’s about to cave.
“No. No. No…” Stiles holds his hands up. “We’ve waited long enough. They’ll settle down.” He glares at Derek’s sisters, Cora and Laura, who are doing a poor job of keeping two tiny werewolf babies entertained. Granted, their kids just had their world opened up to them when they learned to crawl, and now refuse to be held unless it’s to set them on their hands and knees so they can race off to explore, but Derek’s sisters could try harder.
It’s almost been a year, and Stiles is more than ready to marry his mate. Derek might think a piece of paper doesn’t mean much after sealing their fate with matching mating bites, but Stiles, his dad, and his human friends have been waiting for this celebration since Stiles and Derek arrived in Beacon Hills. They’re getting married, damn it!
“Stiles,” Derek huffs when the screeching reaches a decibel that has half of their wedding guests flinching and covering their ears.
“Aw, come on, guys!” Stiles turns to the twins. “Just cut your dads some slack.” He looks down at his light-colored pants and olive-green vest and bow tie. He has flowers pinned to his chest, hand-picked by a couple of pixies, for crying out loud. They are doing this.
But his children are relentless. Derek raises his eyebrow, grinning. And if he didn’t look so handsome in his navy tight pants and white shirt, sculpted to his abs, Stiles’ irritation would blare through the bond.
“Fine!” Stiles grabs hold of Derek’s hand, marching him over to the wailing babes. He picks up one of them, passing them to Derek’s waiting arms, and then snatches the other from Cora’s arms. They quiet down right away and Stiles groans in frustration.
“Definitely your DNA,” his dad mumbles. “You never enjoyed being left behind, either.”
“Zip it, old man.” Stiles holds up his finger in warning. As they settle in front of the high-witch priestess, Stiles relents that this is how it should be. The four of them have endured so much that even this next they should tackle together. They’ll be stronger for it.
It’s taken months and months to get here. Helping the supernatural refugees is not a simple task. The politics within the species is enough to drive him mad, and doing it while pregnant and then with babies has been challenging. He wouldn’t change anything, though, and having witches and Druids and a medically trained vampire ready to lend a hand made delivering his little pups easier than finding a human doctor to overlook a pregnant man and not ask questions. They’ve made good friends, and it’s been one of the shining lights that have come out of that horrific place. Creating a supernatural sanctuary in Beacon Hills is another. With the cash from his first Exploration and the half upfront from his second, Stiles and Derek created a home for the displaced, including themselves. It makes missing Lumi easier, but only a little.
They still don’t know who the infamous board members of HAC are, but with the resources of the sheriff’s department, Peter is leading a team to discover who’s holding the strings and when he finds them, he’ll deliver justified swift justice. It turns out Peter never freed everyone they found down there. When he came across some kind of gene splicing experiment, he discovered a creature that didn’t exist in any of the Hale family tomes. He decided some things shouldn’t see the light of day. He carries the image of that abomination in his head, fueling his vengeance to find everyone responsible for that evil place.
It’s not been easy, but for the first time in its long history, the supernatural community has come together and put aside its petty differences for a greater purpose. When the military inevitably came looking for them in Beacon Hills, Peter, and his dad, planned to go public with their story, reveal to the population there are otherworldly creatures amongst them, some good and some not-so-good, and let the fallout rain down. When the elected representatives from Beacon Hills met with the black-ops division of the government, they came to an understanding that the world wasn’t ready to know what lurks in the shadows or orbits the skies. No one wanted to deal with the repercussions of years of classified information suddenly becoming public knowledge. It would open too many questions the government was not prepared to answer. In other words, they predicted chaos and anarchy in an already fragile democratic system. An agreement was made. Beacon Hills would become a beacon for the supernatural, a safe place to live peacefully, and where justice is served by their own kind.
It will take a while before they’re a fully functioning community. There is a lot of work still to do. In the meantime, the witches, Druids, and the fae came together and warded the county, using magic to disguise and glamour the bizarre, and runes to expel and keep out anyone who wishes harm on its citizens. It’s been peaceful—well, among the humans, anyway. The politics between species still gives Stiles a headache. Although, everyone seems to have set aside their grudges for this glorious day of festivities—well, almost everyone.
“What is wrong with you two?” Stiles pokes his daughter’s belly and she smiles, drooling all over her white suit.
“Maybe she wants a name,” his dad says, shifting his feet as he shakes his head. Stiles just scowls because they’ve had this conversation many, many times. It’s not like they need names right now. They’re still working on the paperwork and birth certificates, and until Peter’s guy comes through with them, the blank spots for names will remain unmarked. It’s the only thing Derek and Stiles fight about. It’s gotten ridiculous to where half the town has bets on who will win. He’s pretty sure it was Laura who started it, and from what Stiles understands, the pot is rather large.
For now, his children remain Beans and Toast, and maybe when they start walking and Derek stops calling them pups, their attitudes will rear their true names. It’s the biggest decision of their lives. Look at what happened to him. He has a name that no one can pronounce, and Derek’s is Derek. Enough said. Stiles refuses to let Derek have his way with names like Ava, Ben, or John. If Stiles gets his way, he wants twin names like Rayden and Riker, only he’d spell it, Ryker, so it wouldn’t be so obvious he’s naming his child after a TV character. Derek says they’ll have enough trouble being different. They don’t need their names to stand out, too. Stiles gets it, but he’s not willing to concede just yet. Secretly, he hopes they never agree so they can keep calling them Beans and Toast, or maybe they keep the Beans, because his daughter squeals whenever he calls her that, and Stiles will accede to Ben for their son. Because Beans and Benny. He likes the sound of that.
“Can we continue?” Derek asks, sharing his dad’s irritable behavior.
Stiles shifts Beans in his arms, blowing a raspberry kiss on her cheek. “Let’s do this. Please. I would like to get to the dancing part of this evening.” And, oh, how he intends on dancing. He’s going to howl at the moon and drink until dawn. This is an evening of celebration and he intends to feast on everything until he can’t walk.
The witch recites her passages and as Stiles peers around the clearing at everyone who’s become important in his life, there will always be three empty spaces he’ll leave open. And maybe, one day, he’ll feel that familiar nudge in his head that will let him know Lumi, Bertie, and Shellby found their way home just like he did.