Chapter Text
Back when he’d first made that deal with the Nogitsune—to channel strife, chaos, and pain in a controlled way to stay in charge—he’d thought he understood what he was agreeing to. But those early days had been anything but controlled.
In the end, though, he’d learned to wield it, to find that delicate line where he could hold onto himself without letting the darkness consume him completely. The journey had been long and brutal, but this victory—seeing his pack whole, or mostly whole, and safe—made it all worth it.
The days following Derek's rescue passed in a haze of recovery. For everyone, there were wounds to heal, grief to process. They'd fought together, for each other, but that didn't erase the damage or losses they'd endured along the way.
Allison's loss hit everyone hard.
The memorial Melissa hosted was simple, private, just the pack gathering to honor her memory in a way that felt right. They celebrated her bravery, her unwavering loyalty, and the fierce love she brought into their lives. Isaac stood beside Chris, shoulders hunched but grounded by Chris’s arm, the two of them linked by the immense loss they shared. Lydia was especially devastated, having lost her best friend, and the weight of her grief was palpable. She leaned on Cora, her girlfriend, for comfort, and her once-cool façade softened. Stiles felt a strange new bond with Lydia, their shared losses linking them in a way that words couldn’t touch. She understood his strained relationship with Scott, and the two found solace in each other’s company, talking quietly or just sitting together in silence, feeling less alone in the quiet spaces between words.
In the days that followed, the pack took to gathering together, filling the emptiness with each other's presence. There were sleepovers, shared dinners, and quiet nights spent in comforting silence. They needed it, needed to feel connected, to ground themselves after everything they’d been through. Even Scott and Stiles, despite the recent tensions, found themselves leaning on the pack’s closeness, working through the strain together.
Stiles especially found himself checking on Derek whenever he could. He needed the reassurance, needed to see with his own eyes that Derek was safe.
The night he returned Derek back home to the loft, he couldn't just bring himself to leave. They found wordless comfort in each other’s arms. It wasn’t about escaping the pain; it was about grounding each other, reaffirming that they were still here, still together.
Predictably, it was Scott who struggled the most with Stiles' choices.
Following the fight, Scott couldn't hide the haunted look in his eyes as he glanced at Stiles, as though wondering if his best friend really was still there beneath the shadows, or if the nogitsune had ultimately regained control after all.
They'd had some tense conversations, Scott insisting there had to have been another way. Stiles had tried to explain that there were times in battle when there was only one way forward, no matter how ugly it was.
The tension simmered for a while, and for the first time, Stiles wondered if he might actually lose Scott, that this rift between them would be permanent.
But a few weeks later, with Deaton, Peter, and his dad’s help, they’d pieced together just how deep Ingrid, Nisha, and Damien’s horrors ran. Once Scott understood the full scope of their crimes—countless lives shattered, the darkness Ingrid had left in her wake—he began to understand. He didn’t say much, but Stiles felt it in the way Scott hugged him tightly as they left Deaton’s office. It wasn’t perfect, and maybe there would still be things left unsaid, but it was a start.
Together, the pack began to pick up the pieces, healing the cuts and bruises, both seen and unseen, that marked their battle scars. They grieved, they mourned, and they held onto each other as best they could. But they also took time to celebrate their survival, their small victories, the ways they’d fought and won against the odds.
Slowly, life in Beacon Hills settled back into a fragile, cautious calm. The pack grew closer, bonded by what they’d survived, and they took every chance to be together, looking after each other in ways that showed everything they’d learned.
Eventually, a new normal took hold. The pack adapted, learned, and stood stronger than ever. For his part, Stiles was determined that no enemy would ever come for his pack again to get to him. He kept his power hidden from the outside world, choosing to play the wild card. The Oni, as spirits who could only take form at his command, became his secret, allowing him to stay protected without revealing his powers. Derek, Scott, and Kira worked with him, refining ways he could fight without drawing attention, keeping his skills a hidden advantage, and becoming the pack's wild card.
Time passed, and life in Beacon Hills began to take on a different rhythm. Stiles decided to attend the local community college, choosing to stay close and keep his hometown safe while enabling the others to pursue their dreams outside of state lines if they wanted to. The pack became Beacon Hills’ quiet protectors, taking every opportunity to maintain peace, defending it from threats only they knew about.
As they sat together one evening, the pack sprawled out on blankets in the clearing, Stiles felt something like hope, a fragile but tangible sense that one day, they might find a peace that wasn’t just an interlude. The stars were bright overhead, the air was quiet, and for a moment, Stiles could see it—a future where the world didn’t need them to fight, where they could just be .
For now, though, they had each other. And that was enough.