Title: My Town, My People, My Pack.
Summary: As a rule, Stiles doesn't trust outsiders in his home town. So when a dude with an eyepatch walks into the motel , 10 teenage girls trailing behind him, Stiles' eyes were immediately assessing.

As a rule, Stiles doesn't trust outsiders in his home town. It doesn't matter if their genuine tourists who've missed their turning for San Francisco or if they're visiting family in Beacon; it doesn't matter if they literally stopped to fill up their tank before turning around and leaving again (which is entirely plausible because Beacon Hills is literally a cul-de-sac town) and it doesn't matter if they walk in with a completely plausible excuse like... 'we're taking the girls from our private academy to the coast for the day and we got turned around, can we crash at your motel for the night?'

Stiles doesn't trust outsiders.

He tells people, when it comes up in conversation, that they shouldn't take it personally, that it was a blanket mistrust of anyone and everyone he didn't know. They'd been through too much crap over the last 10 years that the only thing that kept them alive sometimes was that mistrust.

His pack understands it.

His dad thinks he's prematurely cynical.

Stiles believes in being prepared for anything, he believes in knowing what's out to get you before they know you're even there, and he believes in his pack.

So when a dude with an eye patch walks into the motel (one of many facets of Beacon society that his pack had dug their claws into under the noses of the locals), 10 teenage girls trailing behind him, soaked from the ten second jog from their bus to the office in the downpour, Stiles' eyes were immediately assessing, his metaphorical hackles raised and his hand moved down to feel for the gun under the counter, making sure it was still there, before moving back out again just as quickly as he planted a feigned, but believable, welcoming smile on his face.

"Hey there," eye patch smiled a smile that actually reached his eyes, which by Stiles' reckoning, was no mean feat, as the man screamed 'I've seen battle, I can handle myself, don't fuck with me, don't touch my girls'. The last part Stiles added when he saw the man deliberately block the girls from Stiles' line of sight. His lips twitched and he slid his eyes to the security feed just out of sight of the customer. "You got any rooms free? We've no issue sharing if there's not enough room..." Stiles raised an eyebrow, pointedly looking behind the guy, through the window to the empty (save their bus and Stiles' jeep) parking lot. The guy, adorably, blushed but grinned, pleased.

"Xander," one of the girls called and the man rolled his eye and turned around. A glance at the monitor told him someone had located his protection runes. Interesting...

"Doubling up would be cheaper for you," Stiles said easily, getting the guy's attention again. "We're not exactly the Ritz but the linen is clean, rooms spotless and bathrooms are cleaner than my own - which is saying something. Each double runs at $30 for the night, but because there are so many of you, I'll put it back to $25. You can have the North block to yourself."

The guy, Xander, was bobbing his head, looking very appreciative, and Stiles heard the familiar rumble of a very familiar car. He also heard the girls shifting around and whispering to one another but ignored them in favor of sorting out the booking.

Sure enough, not two minutes later, the door was opening and loud laughter and banter made its way into the office, immediately putting Stiles at ease.

"Mom!" Erica's tone was gleeful. "Isaac knocked me into a tree on the way back!"

"I did not!" Isaac protested loudly and Stiles watched Xander move out of the way so he could see his pack manoeuvre their way through the group of girls, making sure not to touch any of them - the girls themselves didn't move to make room at all and Stiles frowned, clearing his throat and raising an eyebrow at Xander, who was frowning but made a gesture for the girls to be more cooperative, giving the pack room to enter. "I didn't, I swear," Isaac was suddenly there, leaning over the counter and pressing their cheeks together, rubbing lightly, quickly before jumping back, flailing when Boyd yanked him by the collar. "MOM!" he wailed.

"He totally did," Erica had moved around behind the desk to mimic Isaac's greeting, rubbing her cheek against Stiles'. Boyd, not one for PDAs, held a fist up for Stiles' to bump, Scott doing the same while Allison daintily leaned over to kiss his cheek.

"They're fighting because Isaac beat Erica at training," Allison supplied. and Stiles whistled through his teeth, impressed. He leaned over to ruffle Isaac's hair, laughing when he was swatted away.

"Do you need any help?" Scott asked as the rest of the pack went through the door marked 'STAFF ONLY', eyes going to the silent group that were waiting patiently.

"I'm good," Scott grinned and left, leaving him alone once again with the customers. "Sorry about that," Stiles laughed, scratching the back of his head, cheeks flushed with happiness but he figured they'd see it as embarrassment. "They get hyper after workouts," he shrugged and the man snorted.

"Preach," he muttered and they shared a grin.

"Okay, paperwork," he said, pulling out form and handing it over for the guy to fill out while he filled out the sign in sheet himself, not looking up when the door bells chimed again, but smirking and obligingly baring his throat when he felt someone crowd him from behind, leaning over, matching the curve of his spine until he felt breaths against his neck. "You let them beat you," Stiles murmured. Derek just snorted.

"I had to escort Lydia and Danny home."

"Ethan and Aiden?" he made some quick mental calculations and filled in the numbers required for the bookings.

"Coming around on Sunday." Stiles tilted his head around so he could look at Derek, eyebrow raised in interest. Derek just shrugged, pressing his lips against Stiles' throat before he too disappeared through the Staff door.

"That deserves an explanation Hale!" he shouted and heard laughter from his pack. "I swear, no respect," he lamented, handing over the booking form for the guy to sign, taking the paperwork he'd just filled out and turning around to grab the keys.

"What magic y'cooking up mister?" a girl's voice asked and Stiles' lips twitched.

He turned around and put six keys on the counter, smiling down at the girl that didn't look a day over 15.

"Stuff far beyond your reach kid," he winked and she huffed, annoyed. The girls behind her were grumbling too.

"Nothing dangerous I hope?" Xander asked and Stiles saw the muscles flex in his arms, his fingers twitch for one of the many hidden weapons he probably had stashed on him.

"Depends," Stiles shrugged, taking the booking form back and filing it away.

"On?" one of the older girls prompted.

"On whether anyone who walks through that archway has any intention of harming me or mine. Pretty simple."

"Giles said focussed runes like that are hard for one person! For a whole group it must be impossible!" another girl said emphatically and Stiles saw Xander's eye roll again.

"I think you all need more lessons in the art of subtlety," he ground out and they shut up.

"I like questions, don't worry about it, dude. 'Sides, as long as you and your girls aren't here to cause trouble in my town, we'll have no trouble to cause you."

"Do we look like we'll cause trouble?" Xander asked, amused.

"I say this in the nicest way possible... but you look like you're ready to go to war. You've got knives in your boots, a long blade on your back, guns on your hips, more weapons on you I'm guessing, and your girls tripped my supernatural alarm when they walked in. The fact that my friends didn't react violently towards you told me you're not a rival or anything they'd consider a threat to our safety, the fact that my mate didn't comment on you should tell you just how little he thought about you at all - which you should be thankful for. The last trouble that made its way into Beacon Hills tried to kill my dad and make me its bitch," Stiles smirked. "My friends didn't take too kindly to that."

"Is this another damn Hellmouth?" one of the girls groaned. "We just got out of one!"

"Not a Hellmouth," Stiles promised. "But whatever it is, it's ours. That means I don't want any of you out tonight unless it's purely human recreation. No hunting, no killing, no intimidating, no trespassing, no loitering, no nothing. This is my town, these are my people, this is my pack." Xander's eye widened. "Whatever supernatural fight you've got going on, keep it out of my home. Other than that, I hope you have a pleasant stay," he smiled at them, courteous as ever.

"You're not our guardian, you can't ground us!" another of the girls snapped, glaring at him hard.

"You're more than welcome to sleep on your bus..." Xander was regarding him with an intense curiosity that reminded Stiles of himself.

"That's enough," Xander said with finality and the girls all seemed to deflate and pout. "Thank you for your hospitality, we'll try not to cause any trouble." Stiles grinned, thanking him and watching him and the girls file out back into the rain.

"You know what they are?" Derek was suddenly beside him but Stiles wasn't surprised.

"Nope. But they sent my runes off so I'm guessing powerful."

"Slayers," Derek murmured and started nuzzling Stiles. "Come on, they set up the mattresses in the den."

"Think we'll get any trouble after all that?" Stiles asked as they locked the office up.

"Not if they're smart. Your rune use is advanced, they may not want to risk a confrontation…" Derek was leaning against the wall by the Staff door, watching him move. "Course, that doesn't mean they won't try again at a later date if they feel the need."

"We have you," Stiles shrugged, unconcerned. "We have Scott, the twins… four alphas in one pack and we don't go around killing other people to maintain our power base. I think it might be interesting to see them try," he snorted, letting Derek pull him close, once again burying his head in Stiles' neck.

"The slayers are powerful, let's not tempt fate, okay?"

"Anything for you, alpha," Stiles purred as he tipped his head forward and nipped at the exposed throat in front of him, earning him a teasing growl.

"Come on, trouble," Derek's pat to Stiles' ass wasn't so much a pat as it was a less enthusiastic, but still smarting, slap, making Stiles yelp.

"You'll pay for that!" Stiles vowed, laughing and running down the corridor as Derek pursued.