Steter Week 2023

Steter Week 2023: Day #3 | Not Your Emissary

Prompt: Your Enemies Are My Enemies

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Stiles was pissed. Here he was bleeding, and in immeasurable pain after saving the asses of his pack once again but did he get any thanks? Nope! He was recovering in the hospital and only three people had come to see him and not one of them was his alpha. That was the nail in the coffin for Stiles. He was done. He was so done with constantly putting his life on the line for people who couldn't care less so long as they lived even if it meant Stiles was racking up hospital bills like crazy.

That was why as soon as he had been released from the hospital, Stiles vanished into the night. He took only the bare minimum with him. There was some grim humor in the fact that the night he left was the two year anniversary of his father's death. He made sure to stop by the cemetery to say goodbye to his parents one last time. They wouldn't want this life for him, and he knew he had to think of himself first now which he wasn't good at, but Stiles was determined to change that. It hurt to think of his dad even two years later. Noah Graham Elias Stilinski was another casualty, another unnecessary death as a result of the pack's ineptitude. Stiles had been too late to save his dad and carried the guilt with him every day.

As he stood and brushed off the dirt, Stiles made a promise to his parents that he would never let himself be taken for granted again. Once, when he was younger, Stiles had fallen for his best friend, had fallen for Scott but as time passed and his friend only sought out others, Stiles realized it was forever unrequited. He had only attempted to reveal his feelings once and Scott played it off as a sick joke. Stiles never tried again. Now, when he thought about it, Stiles was relieved as the person Scott now was, was not someone Stiles wanted to be with.

A werewolf wasn't a turn off for Stiles but being a fucking asshole, whose head was always buried in pussy was. They'd had too many close calls because Scott was thinking with the wrong head. Some alpha he was, true or not.

Stiles shook away the dark thoughts and departed from the cemetery. He couldn't take his jeep with him, knowing it would be a dead giveaway. So, he used a little of his savings to get something he had always wanted. As he mounted his Ducati Corse, a sleek black model and his pride and joy, Stiles felt like he was finally taking control of his life.

The deep purr it let out when he started it, felt like power bleeding into Stiles's veins. He revved the engine and then took off, blending perfectly with the inky shadows surrounding Beacon Hills. Only when the rearview mirrors showed the town sign did Stiles feel the weight on his chest release. There was still a long road ahead, but he was ready.

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Two Years Later:

Anchor of Selene Bookstore was a huge success with the people in the small town of Oelwein, Iowa. It was nearly two thousand miles from his former home and so small that everyone knew everyone. At his shop, Stiles finally was able to put his spark into play. Deaton had hated Stiles with a passion and with the druid whispering in his ear, Scott had refused to name Stiles his emissary even going so far as to restrict his use of magic. Granted, Stiles never truly stopped using it, just avoided doing so where the alpha could see. Plus, Stiles wasn't a wolf and despite being the alpha's beta he couldn't be controlled like they could. He just let Scott believe he was as it was either that or the alpha would've assigned Deaton to supervise Stiles constantly which absolutely not.

Anyway, here in this small town, Stiles was thriving and most importantly, well Stiles had found someone or rather they had found him. There was a small werewolf pack in town and of course Stiles abided by proper protocol and formality. It was important that the spark declared himself to the alpha of the territory. The Hale pack was well known to those in the supernatural community and yet Stiles wasn't afraid despite their reputation.