Spell of Forthcomings Spent

Chapter 1: Impending Regression

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or the characters.

Peter felt his lungs squeeze in his chest. It was a difficult feat to have any werewolf running so hard and so fast that they actually felt the fatigue sinking into their muscles. The creature was pounding on behind him, and Peter could feel himself beginning to slow. He knew that there would be no one to save him; he knew he was the last one left.

The fire had taken his family. He had killed Laura. Erica had been murdered by the Alpha pack. Derek had killed Boyd—by force though it didn't matter. Allison had been run through. Twin one had been killed, and twin two had been found in a ditch three months later. One of the three new betas had been blown up by a group of hunters. Lydia went to go find Jackson and they had heard news a year later that they had been killed in a territory dispute. Scott and Kira were killed by the outliers of the Argent family, protecting their pack. Derek became the alpha again. Malia was killed in a trap set by her adoptive father after he found out what she was and what she had done. Isaac and the two other betas were burned in a fire. Stiles, John (the sheriff), and Melissa broke from the pack. As far as Peter knows they are alive and well and known as the hunters of hunters. They go from family to family eliminating the ones who no longer follow the code. It was just Derek and him for the longest time before the beast behind him tore his nephew to pieces.

Peter wished he could do it all again.

Peter jerked awake instantly. His breath was heavy and stacked together, his lungs constricting like they had in his dream. He had heard of this. His grandmother possessed this gift. The gift of foresight: a gift that presents itself when the possessor is at a crossroads, where one decision can change the course of one's life. Each time the gift shows you the course you are on and what life you shall live. You get to choose to live that life or change it in that split second. His grandmother said she was only afforded two crossroads in her life, and only changed it once.

The downside to this gift is that it changes you. You essentially grow as a person, becoming what you would after being made to live through your life.

Peter couldn't say that he liked himself anymore. Not after seeing what he became. Not after how he was thinking now. There was an edge to his mind now, cunning and meticulous. He still retained his sanity, his new mind and old merging. A godsend really. It was a very thin line.

Peter groaned and hefted himself out of bed. He felt as if he had to reassess his life; to see where he stood in it: How old was he? Was his family still alive? If so how old were the kids? Did he still live on the Hale property, or is it those three years that he moved out and met his wife before moving back in?

Looking around he knew immediately that he was still in residence at the Hale house. But it wasn't the room he shared with his wife. So it was before he met her. Did he still even want to meet her?

He picked up his running gear from the dresser. Before the fire he always went for a morning run. Changing into his gear he picked up his running shoes and headed for the kitchen.

As he opened the door to his room, and stepped out into the hall. His room was one of four on the first floor. Him, Derek, and Amber with Annalese were currently holding up in three of the rooms. Derek's room was down the hall closest to the back door. The boy was prone to go run in the woods at a drop of a hat. And Amber and Annalese were down at the opposite side closer to the kitchen and playroom. The fourth was Robert's office, which was directly across from his. No one went into his office. Not even Talia on a good day.

Robert was a writer who worked from home and it better be a damn emergency or someone dying, if you interrupted him. Robert was a ghost writer, stepping in and finishing novels for authors, and was renowned as the best. He was bitten when he was seven by a rogue alpha who liked to collect kids. It wasn't the Hales who had downed the feral beast—as it was on the opposite coast—and Robert's parents hadn't a clue as to how to handle a rabid seven year old with claws after the pack that had liberated him moved on. They ended up finding the Hales after months of finding and interviewing packs for Robert. Then they gave them custody. Robert only ever visited his parents twice after that. Once when he was ten, and again when he was sixteen. He mated to Talia right after the second visit.

From the moment Talia and Robert met it was instantaneous… They hated each other to their very core. It wasn't until both had gotten older that they realized exactly what those intense feelings meant. They still clashed and butted heads, but they certainly loved each other with a quiet, stanch support that was infallible to anything that tried to break them down. It truly was a swan princess story… or at least that was what Cora called it when she heard the story for the first time.

Peter looked away from the office. The door was closed, meaning Robert was already hard at work and Peter was late getting up. But honestly, who could blame him after the night… life he just lived through. Peter walked down to the kitchen, hopping he missed the morning rush. He walked through the swinging door and into the country kitchen. The long table, with mismatched chairs, were only half full with the kids eating before camp, and Ken who was in charge of getting everyone to the bus stop. Everyone except Paul, Laura and Amber, who ranked old enough not to go to camp

Ken, Peter's brother in law, was sitting in the middle wiping Martha and Maegan's hands. The twins were born two years ago to Ken and Kyra, and probably the most adorable girls Peter had ever seen, with short strawberry blonde hair, and brown-black eyes. They were born human, taking after Ken, and Peter was honestly happy for that. They were enough of a handful without supernatural abilities.

Aiden, Ken and Kyra's oldest at age five, was sitting across from his father; happily munching on his pancakes with much more syrup then should taste good. Aiden took after his mother, and was a born a wolf. He had flaming red hair that no one in the family knew where it came from. They assumed it was from Ken's blonde roots. His blue eyes were toned down, an unexpressive. He hardly showed any type of emotion, and proved him to be an unusual child. He didn't talk, and he hated to be touched. It worried the pack more often then not.

Peter turned his head to see the rest of the table then. He found Annalese sitting a few chairs down at the corner of the table in a high chair. The one year old giggling as her mother, Amber (seventeen) fed her bits of fruit. Amber had had her when she was a little over sixteen, after getting pregnant from a rogue beta were-coyote on one full moon night. The were-coyote was killed soon after and Amber was left with the results of Annalese, though that hadn't changed how much she loved her little girl. Annalese ended up being born a werewolf even with her mother being human.

When she started to have complications, Danny-Mae her mother brought her here in hopes of support that they both lacked. They were cousins, and their family had been hunted down and killed a few years back.

The teenagers were already gone, leaving a pouting Cora sitting beside Amber, so Peter reached around the girl and grabbed some toast.

"Where are Paul, Laura, and Derek?" Peter asked.

"Derek went out for a run to brood because Paul told him he couldn't go with him and Laura to the basketball courts." Cora growled out.

"Hmm," Peter sighed. "Well I'm gonna go for a run too." He looked to Ken. "I have the next two weeks or so off right?"

"Yeah," Ken grinned to Peter, "I got you covered."

Usually during the summer time it was Peter's job to watch the kids, but Ken had a few weeks off meaning that Peter was off the hook so to speak. But honestly maybe it was time for Paul and Laura to take over. He'd have to talk to Talia about it, but having a job would help his case.

What was the job he got in his maybe future? Oh right he was an IT specialist. He didn't want to work for the same company again though. That company from what he remembered was overbearing and grated on his wolf's nerves.

Peter smiled to everyone at the table and headed for the door, slipping on his shoes and eating his toast. He started out on the reserve, taking the path that loops around to the pond, and past the caves, and then comes out in to the middle of town. As his feet beat against the pavement he stopped short as he saw her.

It was Hannah, the woman he married in his not life. This was the morning he met her. This was his crossroad. Peter stood there for a moment when he saw something else. A little boy was walking down the street. He couldn't have been more than seven or so, and he was twitching as he walked determinably forward. Peter knew this boy… but from where?

And in that moment when he moved toward the seven year old instead of Hannah to introduce himself, he felt his life shift.

When the Sheriff opened the door, frantic and wide eyed, Peter just smiled at him. Stiles was propped up on his hip and a bag was hanging from his other hand.

"Oh god Stiles," the sheriff sagged.

"I found him two blocks away going to get some soup. He said he had to take care of his Daddy, because he was sick." Peter smiled at the man.

"I'm so sorry, I turned around and he was gone, and I…"

"Hey it's okay." Peter smiled. "I'm Peter by the way, and I have seven nieces and nephews and a couple of cousins, I get it."

John looked him over for a minute, Stiles still in his arms, thumb in mouth and head on his shoulder. "I'm John. Would you like to come in?"

"John Stilinski, yes we've met a few times. You know Ken Hale?" Peter smiled stepping in through the door.

"Ken Hale, yeah, he's the EMS Chief." The Sheriff said almost absent mindedly as he watched Peter and his son. Peter just nodded, and headed for the kitchen.

"Why don't you sit down, I promised Stiles that I would help make the soup because he isn't allowed to touch the stove." Peter glanced back at him as Stiles grinned a toothless grin up at him as he placed Stiles on the counter.

"Daddy, Petah helped me get the soup. And he helped me get some crackers. And he listened when I told him that chicken and rice is better than chicken and noodle. And that saltine crackers suck and Ritz are d' bomb." Stiles threw his hand up in a fist pump from his place on the counter.

"Peter, Stiles, my name is Peter." Peter said at the same time John said, "We don't say sucks Stiles." They looked at each other as Stiles giggled at them.

After a minute John made to get up as Peter shifted through his pots in the bottom cabinet. "You really don't have to…"

"Sit down," Peter said, "I made Stiles a promise." He turned to the boy who was now holding a wooden spoon. "Didn't I Stiles?"

"Yes, yes you did. And we don't break promises Daddy." Stiles wagged his finger at the man. "And you should be in bed. You're sick daddy, and the doctor said bed rest. That means you rest in a bed."

"You heard him," Peter laughed.

John just grumbled from the table. Another minute and the soup was stemming, and being poured into the bowl that Peter had gotten out as he was moseying around the kitchen finding the pans. Peter grabbed the spoon that Stiles was handing out to him. He let it slide into the soup as he hefted Stiles up around his middle and set him on the floor. Peter walked over to, and around the table to put the bowl in front of the Sheriff.

That was when he smelt it; the spike in arousal. Peter honed his ears, and heard the hitch in John's heartbeat. Peter smiled. This was it. This was his second path. He walked back over to the counter and grabbed the crackers. He sniffed then, trying to see what exactly was in the kitchen. He was looking for something to make Stiles. He smelt apples. Then there was bread, bread was good. Now something to put on the bread. There was strawberry jelly, and peanut butter. That would work. He turned with the crackers in hand and walked back around the table to place the crackers beside the bowl.

"Stiles why don't you go get that stuffie you told me about while I make you a sandwich and apple slices." Peter offered.

"Oh, yes," Stiles grinned and ran out the door.

Peter went back over to the refrigerator and grabbed the jelly. He picked up the bread as he walked back over to his station he had set up as well as the apple and peanut butter.

"You must think I'm a terrible parent." Peter heard John say. "And who can blame you, even I think I'm a terrible father."

"No," Peter turned a plate with apple slices and a sandwich in hand. "No I think your overwhelmed, tired, and a sick father." He placed the plate on the table as he took a seat right across from John.

John looked so sullen. "Its just… Its just that I have no idea what to do. Claudia died when he was four and he is such an energetic little boy. He doesn't stop for even a second. He was even diagnosed with ADHD. And the doctor said that they try not to diagnose children so young, but that he has it so bad… It takes everything I have to keep up with him and the last six babysitters quit after only two hours with him. But he's such a good boy." John glanced up at Peter.

Peter just smiled at him, "I'm sure it doesn't help that he is ridiculously intelligent for a seven year old."

John gave him an inquisitive look.

Peter gestured for him to eat his soup. "Stiles regaled me with a lecture on the distinct difference between the male and female form."

"Oh, no," John looked mortified, "He didn't. Tell me he didn't. Where did he even learn about that? I mean its normal for little kids to know the difference, the bare basics, but if he actually lectured you on it that means he researched it."

"He said he learned it from a book at the hospital when Ms. McCall had to bring him and his bestest friend Scott to check something." Peter informed him.

"Great," John groaned. "The kid is not safe around any type of books or information. He told me how to fix the lawn mower the other day after he read the manual."

Peter actually laughed at that.

"Petah! Petah! Look it's the stuffie I told you about." Stiles rushed in with a stuffed black wolf with blue eyes. He ran right to Peter and held out the toy. "His name is Dirk, and I love him with all my heart. Daddy took me to the fair and… and there was this boy and he won it and then gave it to me after because all I won was a rubber duck and I didn't like it. So he traded me."

Peter smiled taking the stuffed wolf. "That's great Stiles. Why don't you eat your sandwich?"

"What kind is it?" Stiles asked.

"Peanut butter and jelly," Peter offers.

"Oh," Stiles took a bite out of the sandwich. "It's good. Do you know how to make jelly?"

"No I can't say that I do," Peter offers as John sighs.

"It's made with juice, sugar and pectin. Pectin is a brown powder from citrus fruit, and it gels things. That's why it's called jelly. Get it?" Stiles grinned around a bit of half chewed food.

"Don't talk with your mouth full." Peter admonishes. "And no I wasn't aware of that."

"Stiles I'm sure that Peter doesn't want to hear about how jelly is made." John says.

"No it's alright," Peter looks at John. "I really don't mind. It's refreshing to come across such a brilliant mind."

It was true. Peter remembered Stiles from the future. Such a remarkable boy, and so resourceful. It's hard to imagine that, that Stiles actually had a brain to mouth filter. And seven year old Stiles showed exactly how amazing his mind is. Seven years old and reading medical books… and for the most part understanding it. His IQ must be off the charts.

"See dad, Peter likes to hear me talk." Stiles says as if it was an achievement.

"Only when you don't have your mouth full," Peter says gently.

"Right because that is how you be polite," Stiles gazes over at his dad, "Right?"

"Yeah Stiles, eating and then talking is what is polite." John assures.

"And not with your elbows on the table, and using your napkin," Stiles supplies. Peter just laughed again.

It was later when Peter was walking down the street that he made up his mind.

He could smell the arousal on John, and honestly the man wasn't unattractive. He wouldn't mind cultivating a mind like Stiles', and being a parent to him. There also was no chance that they would be in the fire, and that he would lose them, he'd make sure of it. He would also have two of the most dangerous men he had ever met on his side.

Yes, it seemed it was time to go courting.