This is a story inspired by a Tumblr Post from Cuppa-Char and our mutual love of emissary!Stiles. I thought that instead of writing a new, crazy novel-length story, I could do a little collection of elemental emissary!Stiles. Just a collection of one-shots of him using his powers for specific purposes. All can be read individually as one-shots.

Get an Emissary, They Said. It'll Help the Pack, They Said.

By Chase-the-Wind-and-Touch-the-Sky

EARTH.

He didn't talk about it often.

Deaton gave the entire pack a lecture about how having an emissary would be nothing but beneficial for everyone and because he'd shown a talent for it in the past, Stiles was the one who took on the challenge. The two met several times a week, but neither spoke much about it. And Beacon Hills got quiet enough to where they didn't need to see anything.

Every time Scott tried to bring it up, Stiles hastily changed the subject. Modesty was a weird look on Stiles.

So when a pack from Oregon comes to California and challenges Scott, he isn't sure what the outcome will be, but he knows that Stiles isn't standing in the front as usual.

The Alpha looks like a complete hipster. Scott resists the urge to roll his eyes when the guys approaches, clad in flannel, a beanie, and a hemp bracelet wrapped around his wrist. His eyes scour the pack and he looks unimpressed, which quite frankly, is a little offensive. "Do you have a problem?" Scott asks, telling himself that laughing at the hipster Alpha from Oregon would make things five million times worse.

Hipster Alpha snorts. "Considering your reputation, I thought your pack would be more… well, just more. You're a bunch of teenagers."

"So?" Lydia snaps, crossing her arms in a way that always takes someone down a peg. At least Hipster Alpha has the sensibility to look a little taken aback by Lydia.

"People said I was crazy to come down here, but now I realize it must all be you guys starting the rumors. A pack that beat an Alpha pack. The Deadpool. Even a Nogitsune."

There's a derisive snort from the back and Scott shuts his eyes. Stiles really could only keep his mouth shut for so long. "This coming from the guy in hipster glasses and a beanie?" Stiles says from the back. "Are you here to try and take over the area or are you here to tell us about the benefits of recycling?"

"Your token human has a big mouth," Hipster Alpha says.

"The token human has a name." Stiles snaps, emerging from the back of the pack and Scott wants to yell at him to stay back, but he knows a power play in his own pack in front of a challenging pack would be a bad idea. Stiles steps up to Scott's right side, crossing his arms. "I've been calling you Hipster Douchebag in my head, myself." He finishes with a smirk.

Hipster Alpha's eyes narrow. "Control your human," he states.

Scott interjects before Stiles can, "You know, why don't we just get to the point as to what you guys are doing here. If it's a territory thing, we're not ceding our territory. Beacon Hills is ours. If it's a conflict, maybe we can work something out. Otherwise, enjoy your stay and please get out quickly."

Hipster Alpha's eyes flash red and he shows no indication that he's leaving anytime soon. "I think you need to reevaluate your tone, boy. Didn't your mother ever tell you not to raise your voice to your elders?"

"Yeah, that's not going to help anything," Stiles drawls. "Reminding us that you're old."

The Hipster Alpha raises his claws, so Scott takes a moment to step in front of the two. "I don't know what you wanted to achieve when coming here, but the territory isn't available. I suggest you simply go back to Portland if you're so concerned over it."

"Yeah, go hit the wheat grass juicer or whatever," Stiles says with a flick of the wrist.

Except as soon as he does so, the Alpha's eyes glow red once more and Scott frowns when all the people behind him follow suit with a maze of blue eyes. Scott didn't care for the implication of it, nor the intimidation tactics used. "I'm going to ask you one last time to leave," Scott says firmly. "We don't have to do anything that could get anyone hurt."

Hipster Alpha lets out a bellowing laugh, causing those with the blue eyes to follow suit. "I have no idea how you all are still alive, let alone in charge of this territory."

"Not all of us are," Scott says softly, his eyes falling to the ground.

That's when he feels it next to him. Stiles' Spark expanding, as it usually did when he was preparing for battle. It'd been a while since it happened because he was upset at something. A year ago – when he was still getting used to his emissary powers – he would lose control a lot. But Deaton recommended yoga to balance himself out and oddly enough, Stiles and Derek now have a standing yoga date Tuesdays and Thursdays at six. (Derek grumbles, but Scott knows for a fact that he looks forward to them. One time, Stiles had to cancel to study for a test and the man moped for an entire day.)

"Stiles," Scott warns, putting a hand on his best friend in efforts to calm him down.

The opposing pack laughs. "Let him go. Let's see how the precious human fares over a wolf pack. It will teach him not to speak when he's not spoken to like a good little human."

Any calming effect Scott's touch had on Stiles is gone now and Scott knows it. Stiles stiffens at his side and Scott feels a rush of electricity next to him. It's all about the bonds of the pack – he could never truly feel what it was like to be Stiles, but he could feel whispers it in his bones. "Stiles, no." Scott says, his eyes widening.

"Yes, Stiles, listen to your Alpha."

Scott growls. "Trust me, this isn't for his benefit, it's for yours."

But it doesn't matter because all hell breaks loose. Before Stiles even can do anything, one of the beta's behind Hipster Alpha lunges at him, throwing Stiles to the ground. Without thinking, Scott's eyes flash red and he sprints after the beta, unable to control himself. Stiles cries out as he's thrown against a tree, tumbling to the ground. The beta runs with his claws poised, but Scott is able to reach the two in time to throw him to the ground.

Apparently that's all that was needed to make a tumultuous meeting teeter into disarray. The other betas sprint forward, crashing into Scott's beta's with enough cracks to make him flinch. But he's not terribly concerned because he hears Malia laugh at their lack of prowess and sees Kira's blade swipe across the field. Even Derek snorts at their technique. After Deadpools and Nogitsunes, simple packs just seem annoying.

Stiles leaps to his feet, blood trickling down his face. "You okay?" Scott asks.

But when Stiles looks at him, his eyes are burning white and Scott knows that they'll have to make sure he doesn't have a concussion later. "Be careful," Scott whispers, but he's never sure if Stiles can actually hear him at this point.

Stiles rolls his sleeves, revealing a twisting willow tree, the branches coming to life. The leaves and flowers start flowing down his arm, coming alive. Scott never really got used to this part, so he returns his attention to his pack. The blue-eyed betas are tumbling to the ground as the Hipster Alpha gets more and more upset.

Stiles walks in front of him, his eyes glowing white. The wind picks up and Stiles brings his hands over his head. The trees start to tremble and all of Scott's pack takes a few precautionary steps back (once, Stiles accidentally clipped Kira when she got in the way and he felt so awful, he proceeded to be her slave for a week, even though she didn't want it).

Vines sweep across the ground and wrap around the ankles of the fallen betas. They're hoisted into the air, dangling from the branches of the trees like weird Christmas ornaments. He doesn't say anything - it's the one weird thing about Stiles using his emissary powers is that he has to concentrate entirely on what he's doing, otherwise he can't keep it up.

Scott approaches Hipster Alpha, calmly saying, "If we release you, please leave and never come back. That's our deal. Take you betas and go."

Hipster Alpha's jaw is clenched. Scott can see his mind racing, but he's not sure why. He's clearly defeated.

"Alright," Hipster Alpha says, but Scott can't put his finger on why he doesn't believe him. His heartbeat is steady, but Scott doesn't trust his eyes.

Hipster Alpha moves to leave, but at the last second, he turns. Running straight at Stiles, Hipster Alpha bares his teeth. Scott can't get to him in time. He knows that they'll still win, but can't move quick enough to save Stiles.

Then, all the betas fall from trees.

Hipster Alpha and Stiles collide.

"Stiles!"

Lydia screams.

"No!" Scott bellows after Lydia screams. He sprints over to the two, gesturing to the fallen betas. "Make sure they don't attack again!"

By the time he gets to Stiles, the pool of blood is large. Scott rips the Hipster Alpha off of Stiles, but finds that it's difficult. Then he steps back and understands why.

A branch impales the Hipster Alpha, his blood seeping onto Stiles' shirt. Stiles lies underneath him, panting, a few scratches up his forearm and blood on his face, but other than that, he looks fine. Scott pulls him to his feet, hands running down his sides to make sure he's fine.

Stiles eyes flicker back to normal, his gaze glassy as it usually gets when he overextends himself. His look travels to the Alpha's corpse and heaves a heavy sigh. He casts Scott a look that says something along the lines of 'I hate that this happens' and then proceeds to pass out.

XXX

Derek had it on direct order from Scott to try and find Stiles. Scott was certain that he went to his mother's grave – which he did from time to time when their fights went bittersweet – but Derek had another idea.

So when he pushed back the branches of the thick forest and saw Stiles sitting on the ground where the grass was once stained with blood, he's not surprised. It's a relatively sunny day in Beacon Hills, except for the sky above where Stiles sits, his fingers playing in the grass.

Derek steps on a grass and a twig snaps, but Stiles doesn't turn around. "Not surprised," Stiles mutters.

Derek approaches the teen, sitting next to him. Stiles waves his hand over the grass and a few flowers sprout where he's done so, soon the entire space around them covered in daisies. "Pretty," Derek says quietly, running his fingers across some of the petals.

"I like to make nice things sometimes," Stiles says, his voice hoarse and rough as though he'd been crying. It occurs to him that he probably had. "Remind me that I can do that too."

Derek looks at the field of flowers. "He would've killed you, Stiles." Derek says softly. "He tried to. When Lydia screamed, everyone thought it was for you."

"Yeah, well." Stiles mutters noncommittally, running his fingers across some of the petals. Color bleeds into their plumage. "Still doesn't make it any easier. I always wanted to be able to take care of myself, but now that I can…" he sighs. "It just makes me tired."

"I get that." Derek says. "There a lot of responsibility that comes with being a pack emissary. Because it's not just your life you have to protect."

"Pack first." Stiles states.

"Pack first." Derek agrees, nodding. "That's a responsibility you've taken. You do the tough actions so Scott doesn't have to. That's not evil, that's brave."

Stiles finally looks at him, his eyes filled with tears, but not dropping. "It doesn't feel like it."

Derek nods. "It never does."

He rests his hand on top of Stiles. Nothing romantic, but a gesture of comfort. Flesh on flesh, tactile comfort that only wolves could desire.

Or those who run with them.

A/N: This is really fun! I think I'm just going to do a collection of one-shots of elemental emissary!Stiles. Each chapter being a different highlighted element. Maybe if I write about it enough, it'll happen on the show! If you have an elemental idea, let me know! Review and/or on my tumblr!

Please leave a note if you have a moment! Much love!