This is it: the final chapter. Thank you so much for reading!

Chapter Sixteen: I Am

Monday, January 5, 2015

The full moon was tonight.

Stiles paced the loft. He remembered when Scott tried to kill him, and refused visitors lest he do the same. He remembered when Scott made out with Lydia behind his back and extended his isolation to last all day lest the moon inspire Stiles to be the dickest version of himself too. He'd even sent Peter away under the pretense of finding chains strong enough to hold Stiles, just in case. The icy glare Peter leveled at Stiles for that had been too knowing for comfort, but he'd gone.

The sun shone. Stiles squinted at it through the new pane of glass in the window and wished for clouds to block the light. He wished they would stay through the night to hide the moon. It wasn't hot out, but it was the warmest day since Stiles returned home, and the one he most wished would be cold. He missed the winter chill back home. Even knowing it for a lie, he kept thinking if it were cold, he wouldn't get so angry.

The moon's power tugged at him like the undertow beneath the waves. Rage boiled in his chest, and anxious energy sparked through his body. The ache of hunger burrowed deeper into his gut as the moon's influence pulled him under.

Stiles took a deep breath to steady himself.

Malia's footsteps caught his ears. She was downstairs still, on her way up.

"Go away," Stiles said, confident she was listening.

"No."

"I want to be alone."

"You're afraid. That's not the same."

Stiles snarled.

"You helped me," Malia insisted. "Now I'll help you."

"I helped you because I was your anchor. You're not mine."

"You helped Scott when Allison was his anchor. You helped Liam too." She moved quickly through the building and would reach the loft soon.

Stiles had noticed her too late to escape, and he had no where safer to go regardless.

"I don't want them here either."

"They aren't." She reached his floor.

"That's not the point."

"I know you've talked to Scott and Peter about your anchor, but they wouldn't tell me anything."

"Because it's private."

"I know. You were my anchor for a long time, even after we broke up, even after you didn't exist."

"You managed without me."

"I attacked a man at your grandfather's nursing home." She opened the loft door.

"I didn't say you flourished."

"I was confused about who should be my anchor when I started having feelings for Scott. It had always been you. I didn't know if it was because you were my boyfriend."

"You don't have to tell me this."

"Scott's not my anchor."

"I don't know what you're trying to say, Malia."

"Do you remember the first time I stayed myself through the full moon? You told me about being the nogitsune."

Stiles nodded.

"I thought about it while you were away. You said control was overrated, and it helped. Once I stopped trying to hang on, I knew I was already on solid ground because you were supporting me."

"Malia, did you just metaphor at me?"

"Don't." She flashed her eyes. "You meant you hated how control felt to the nogitsune, but it couldn't have done those things if you stayed in control, right?"

"Sure."

Malia frowned. "What?"

"I told you before. I felt in control. I did."

"You were the nogitsune," Malia agreed.

"I was only the nogitsune."

"So?"

"What do you mean, 'so'?"

"So, you weren't Stiles, but that's why it was a problem."

"Wow." Stiles shook his head.

"You think I don't understand," Malia argued. "I do. You were the nogitsune. Now you're Stiles, but you weren't then. You forget, I never knew Stiles before the nogitsune."

"Oh." Stiles bit his lip.

"The nogitsune didn't erase Stiles."

"No, I... merged."

Malia nodded. "You didn't act like Stiles after. You acted like the nogitsune. It had control. The part that came from Stiles didn't."

"So maybe subsumed is a more accurate description than merged," Stiles mused.

"Does that mean control is good or bad?"

"Overrated; I told you before." Stiles scowled. "I know it's not worthless, but it's not enough on its own either."

"What else do you need?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"If control isn't enough, what is?"

"I don't know." Stiles threw his hands in the air. "Why are you bothering me with this?"

"When you answer that question, you find your anchor," she said.

"So you have an answer?"

She nodded.

"What is it?"

She shook her head. "Mine. Yours is different."

"I don't know what my anchor is supposed to be," he growled. "I didn't get one as a void monster."

"You have all day." She shifted her nails in claws. "And we'll stop you if we need to."

"I don't want any of you to get hurt. Except Theo. I'm okay with hurting him."

"You're strong. That doesn't mean you'll hurt us. We have more experience than you, and I never hurt you when you were human even though I was stronger."

That wasn't quite true, but Stiles let it stand. He didn't want to talk. "Are we done here?"

Malia shook her head again.

Stiles had struggled with his anchor over the past three weeks. At first, he had wanted to use something good and pure, like his love for his father or his drive to save lives. When that failed, he turned to darkness, fear, and monstrosity to keep himself in check. Stiles wasn't pure, and he wasn't evil. Those anchors might have worked for someone else, but Stiles needed an anchor that matched who he was.

When Scott was bitten, Stiles had been the human, the best friend, the—as much as it galled him to admit—sidekick. Then he became the nogitsune. Scott helped him become Stiles again, but had he really been human? The body Stiles was born in had turned to ash as he watched.

Was he human when he killed Donovan? Was he human when Fenris bit him? Was he human, a werewolf, or something else when he killed Fenris?

How was Stiles supposed to know who he was if he didn't know what he was?

Malia stood beside him still, waiting with almost uncharacteristic patience. Then Stiles caught Scott's scent from downstairs.

"I'm not the only one who wants to help," Malia noted.

"Did you know he was coming?" Stiles demanded.

"No."

Stiles believed her.

"He probably wants to talk alone too," Malia said. "I'll be back to hold you down later."

She left without waiting for Stiles to insist she stay away. Even though she could still hear him, Stiles knew she wouldn't listen.

As soon as he entered the loft, Scott said, "You have no idea how long I've been waiting to give you this," and tossed over a dog bowl with Stiles' name on it.

"Just because I did it first doesn't mean you aren't an asshole." Stiles chucked the bowl at the garbage bin even though the lid was down. It bounced off and rolled along the floor.

"Are you ready for tonight?"
"Not remotely."

"It could be worse," Scott offered.

"The bad guys could still be alive?"

"I was going to say tearing your friends to pieces is less embarrassing than running naked through the streets."

"So you do believe I might hurt you."

"No, but I believe it's what you're worrying about." Scott sat on the arm of the couch.

"I'm violent sometimes on my own. I don't know what I'll want to do under the full moon's influence."

"You'll probably want to fight and hunt. Power will pulse through your body in huge waves that make you feel like you can do anything, and you'll ride the wave straight over the common sense that usually tells you to stop."

"Oh." In hearing it, Stiles realize no one had described the full moon to him like this before.

"Peter said you've been struggling during training."

"Well, I was really hurt."

"You've had time to heal. You know what I mean."

"I don't know what my anchor is."

Scott nodded. "I struggled when I lost Allison. She was my anchor, and I didn't know how to control my power without her."

"But you found another anchor," Stiles noted.

Scott nodded. "My mom helped me realize that so long as I made other people my anchor, I would always be dependent on them and lost without them. She told me, 'Be your own anchor.'"

Stiles shook his head. "I want to be alone right now, Scott."

"I'm not sure you can afford to be alone," Scott said. "You need an anchor before tonight."

Stiles scowled. "If I don't figure it out, you all can stop me."

"But what about next month?" Scott asked.

"I don't know. Leave me alone."

"You don't have to do this alone."

"You just told me to be my own anchor, so which is it, Scott? Do I rely on myself or on you?"

"Just because I have an anchor doesn't mean I don't need support," Scott insisted.

"Stop being diplomatic and calm."

"I'm not going to let you start a fight with me," Scott said.

Stiles turned on his heel and slammed his fist into Scott's face. Scott flew backward and crashed into and through the dining table, leaving it in splintered chunks.

Scott wiped blood from his lip. "I won't fight you."

"Scottie, if you don't fight back, you're going to get your ass handed to you," Stiles scolded as he stalked forward.

Even Stiles didn't know what he hoped to gain by fighting. Maybe the moon was already affecting him, or maybe he just needed to vent. At least Scott was an alpha; he would be able to heal.

Scott stood, brushing off his jeans with one hand. "If you need to blow off steam, we can run or spar, but what you're trying to do is brawl."

"I punched you through a table. Why won't you get angry?" Stiles snarled.

"Practice, mostly," Scott said. "And I understand what's pushing you. You're a werewolf now, Stiles."

"You think I don't know that?"

"I think you know you're not human anymore, and you have a right to mourn what you lost. But you gained something too. You're a werewolf."

"Yeah, I have super werewolf powers. Good for me."

"I hated what Peter made me, remember?" Scott stepped forward and awaited Stiles' reaction.

Stiles slammed his fist into Scott's chest. The wall cracked under the force of the impact when Scott flew back, but it didn't give way.

Scott coughed and continued after he caught his breath, "I had to make peace with it eventually. I had to find the good in being a werewolf or spend the rest of my life hating myself for something I didn't choose."

"Yeah, we already mentioned power."

"No," Scott said. "I meant my pack. I was friends with you before, but even we changed after I was bitten. We fought side by side in a way we never would have otherwise because we would have believed everything was just animal attacks."

Stiles laughed, taken aback. Answering the confusion on Scott's face, Stiles asked, "You remember when I told you that you were a werewolf?"

"I didn't believe you." A rueful grin settled on Scott's face.

"You never would have figured it out if you weren't literally transforming into a monster at night. I think I would have."

"Shit," Scott muttered. "You're right."

"Even Jackson figured it out, maybe mostly because he hated you."

"He's very observant," Scott defended.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "He didn't notice when he became a kanima."

"He noticed something was off. He didn't like our explanation."

Stiles sighed and studied the damage he'd done. "I'm so lucky Derek's not in town."

"I think he'd understand," Scott assured him.

"He might wonder why I wrecked his place instead of Peter's."

"It was already a little wrecked, and Peter would not understand."

"Good point."

"Are you still sleeping here?" Scott asked.

"I spent a few nights at my dad's, but I'm here tonight."

Scott nodded.

Stiles asked, "How much worse does it get?"

"It's still early in the day." Scott looked out the window at the bright sky. "So, a lot worse."

Stiles groaned.

"You stopped attacking me though," Scott pointed out.

"You distracted me."
"That wasn't enough."

Stiles frowned thoughtfully. "Lydia said I can fight back my darkness by using my head instead of my heart for long enough to let the darkness recede. I laughed because of how clueless you can be."

"Compared to how clever you can be," Scott specified.

"Nah, you're really smart, dude, just... a little smitten at the time. Imagine how much sooner you'd have believed me if Allison wasn't so pretty." Stiles grinned but faltered when Scott didn't laugh.

"I don't always feel smart around some of you," Scott admitted.

"No one always feels smart around Lydia and Mason. They're human encyclopedias."

"What about you, Stiles?"

"I also sometimes feel dumb around them."

"I mean, they're smart because they retain information, but you do something else that even they can't."

"I..." Stiles remembered Lydia standing on a triggered bear trap with complete faith he could disarm it even though he couldn't read at the time. "I figure it out."

"You get it from your dad, right?"

Stiles nodded. "It's why he's so good at his job, at least when the answer isn't supernatural. Sometimes when it is too; he just hates it then."

Scott set a hand on Stiles' shoulder. "No matter what superpower you gain, that's always going to be your greatest ability."

"What about clairvoyance? 'Cause then I'd just magically know."

"You definitely know how to ruin a moment." Scott laughed. "I mean it though."

"Yeah, yeah. I may be Stiles the werewolf, but I'm also Stiles the guy who figures it out." He snickered. "You're trying to remind me who I am so I can use that to anchor myself. I see through you, McCall."

Scott spread his hands in feigned innocence but made no move to hide his mischievous grin. "I guess you figured me out too."

"Cute." Stiles rolled his eyes and turned his back on Scott to take a seat in the 'living room.'

"Oh, come on. I'm right, aren't I?" Scott sat on the coffee table facing Stiles.

Stiles sighed. "I don't know. I told you I'm Stiles. I know I'm right about that, but I don't know..." Stiles bit his lip. He'd told Scott so much already. This couldn't be worse. "You said I was mourning my humanity, but I don't know for sure that I was human anymore. I seemed human, but so do Lydia and Theo sometimes."

"Lydia's immune to the bite, and you turned."

"The chimeras aren't immune. Hayden turned."

"What happened to them was scientific. What happened to you was supernatural." Scott leaned forward. "I can see auras, and yours looked normal again after we trapped the nogitsune. It looked human."

Stiles frowned, mulling that over. "The nogitsune fooled you."

"I know, but you turned. Even if something was different about you before, you're a werewolf now."

"You are right though," Stiles admitted. "I've focused on everything that's changed because that's what scares me."

"More of you is the same than is different," Scott told him.

"Are you saying eighty percent of my personality is still sarcasm?"

Scott grinned. "Closer to ninety."

"Excuse you, I've been using a great deal of general snark, not exclusively sarcasm, and I expect to be appreciated for the effort."

"You're right. I'm so sorry." Scott almost said it without laughing.

Stiles said, "I know being human was only a piece of me, more like a list of abilities and weaknesses than an identity. I can't be the guy who throws mountain ash anymore, but that was always secondary anyway."

"And we've got backups for that now," Scott added. "Not like when we were trying to trap the kanima."

"I'm sure Lydia will appreciate being called backup."

"No!" Scott threw up his hands defensively before that train of thought moved ahead. "She's definitely primary ash-thrower. I meant like Theo and my dad, people we might not call first but who are there if everyone else is turned to stone again."

Stiles chuckled.

Scott shook his head. "The worst part is Lydia wouldn't even yell or hit me. She would just make her disappointment known."

"Very known," Stiles agreed. "Worse than fighting, actually."

"You know you never told me why you broke up."

Stiles made a face. "You just didn't believe me. We couldn't make long-distance work. It's a pretty common issue, actually."

"I keep thinking it had to be something big to split you two, something monumental."

"You remember after Malia and I broke up?"

"You didn't even want to talk to each other."

"Not talking is also how we broke up, the reason and the method. I was hiding that I'd killed Donovan, and she was hiding her plan to kill her mom. We lied and avoided each other until we couldn't face each other anymore.

"We did talk once, when I went to tell my dad. She already knew. She figured me out and let it go because she didn't want to let out her own secret and didn't care what I'd done. I cared. We didn't talk it out. I just turned and went into the station, and we weren't together. Remembering that moment even now, it's like there's a crushing weight on my chest. I've had the monumental breakup before. I never want to feel that again."

"Sorry." Scott seemed at a loss for what to say.

"Don't be. When Lydia and I broke up, I got a flight to Cambridge on Friday after class. We spent Saturday just having fun around town. Sunday we made a huge lunch together and talked it out in her dorm. I gave her a kiss goodbye when she dropped me off at the airport that night, and I called her when I got home to let her know I made it safely. We never stopped talking or being friends. It barely even felt awkward, and I don't feel that pain when I think back to when we were together because it's less like we lost a relationship and more like we became friends again."

"You really didn't date anyone in DC afterward?"

"Why would I lie to you about that?"

Scott shrugged.

"I didn't date." Stiles rolled his eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me about the people you hooked up with?"

"Your relationships are always so heartfelt. How was I supposed to tell you I didn't remember the face of the guy I slept with, but his abs are in my memory forever. His name might have been Dave?"

"So, when I feel like Peter doesn't seem like your type, it's because my sample size is too small?"

"Yeah, that sounds accurate."

"You still could have told me. Aren't dudes supposed to brag?"

"We're not dudes. We're weredudes. Dudewolves?"

Scott tried not to laugh. He failed. But he tried, visibly. "This means you left our teen werewolf movie life in California to discover your new porno life in DC?"

"I like to think of it as a college AU."

"I almost understand what you're talking about."

"It means I had more fun than you."

"I have fun!"

"And a girlfriend," Stiles conceded. "But I was able to drink until now, and it was fun. Now I'll be boring like you."

Scott let the slight slide to focus on, "You're under twenty-one."

"Not according to my fake ID." Stiles scoffed.

"The son of a sheriff turned criminal." Scott shook his head in mock disappointment.

"That happened long before I went to college."

Scott shrugged. "Your drinking days are over in any case."

Stiles frowned. "And my boyfriend's a fuddy-duddy. Fine with murder. Against light drug and alcohol abuse."

"Are you going to give long-distance another try?"

"No." Stiles sighed. "I don't want to ultimatum at him, but I also won't go through that again."

"You know, when you're older, the age difference won't feel as big as now, so it might not be terrible if you took a break," Scott suggested.

Stiles scrunched his face up with distaste. "I don't like that idea either. What if one of us finds someone else and we miss our chance to screw it up on our own terms?"

"Sometimes it's hard to tell if you're joking."

"That's because sometimes jokes are too real."

"At least you don't seem to be having as much trouble with the moon."

"Jokes come from my brain and light-heart." After a moment, Stiles admitted, "Sarcasm might be a little bit darkness, but only a little."

Scott only grinned.

.

Stiles tried to run the others off as the sun set, but Peter, Scott, Malia, and Lydia refused to leave him in peace.

"We've been preparing for this since you were bitten," Lydia assured him.

They brought chains, mountain ash, and wolfsbane, but kept it all in reserve. They believed, or hoped, Stiles would manage on his own.

Stiles jittered and fidgeted with nerves. As the sky darkened, he grew more annoyed that the others refused to let him face the moon alone.

"Why don't you just chain me up and go?" he snarled.

"You're stronger than I was when chains held me," Malia pointed out. "You might break free."

"Then trap me in mountain ash."

Lydia said, "What if someone else came to let you out?"

Stiles snarled.

Lydia tilted her head and raised her eyebrows.

Peter sat on a dining chair across the room, though there was no new table yet. He crossed his arms and frowned.

"You have to do this," Scott told Stiles, "and we have to know you did. This won't be your last full moon."

"I am aware of that, Scott," Stiles growled.

"You're still afraid of hurting us," Lydia said.

"We can take care of ourselves," Malia reminded him.

"Your classmates in DC can't," Scott added.

"I know." Stiles wanted to stomp away, but they would just follow.

Peter might not. He'd placed his chair as far from Stiles as possible. Had he heard what Stiles told Scott? Peter was stealthier than the rest of the pack, but would he have wanted to spy on Stiles throwing a fit long enough to stay for the end? Would he be hurt even if he had heard?

Stiles looked at his hands. "You all wouldn't have to worry so much if I just gave up the alpha spark. I couldn't do as much damage as a beta."

"You'd also be dead since a beta can't heal from as much damage," Lydia said.

Stiles conceded the point with a nod.

"Do you want to give it up?" Scott asked.

"I don't know what I want," Stiles admitted.

"You're my brother with or without it," Scott promised.

Stiles sighed. "I never wanted this kind of power, but now that I have it, it just feels so useful."

"It is," Scott agreed. "It's not the only thing that's useful, but it comes in handy."

"If you plan to keep throwing yourself headlong into danger, I think you'll need it," Lydia said.

"I did that as a human too," he reminded her.

"You did," she agreed.

"Oh, so you just meant I should keep it."

"Who would you even give it to?" she asked with a surreptitious glance at Peter.

"Doesn't matter if I keep it." Not Peter, he already knew, but Stiles didn't intend to break Peter's trust.

"You're avoiding the question, not answering it," Lydia pointed out.

Stiles shrugged, which didn't seem to placate her. He said, "I don't know anyone I could give it to who would have more of an idea what to do with it than I do. Scott is all of our alpha." He paused to consider the next words before he let them out. "But he's in California, and I won't be."

This time, Lydia nodded with more understanding in her eyes than Stiles had expected.

"You're talking about more than college," Scott said.

"I'm not harassing the FBI for nothing."

Stiles expected Scott to be hurt, but he smiled and offered Stiles his hand. When Stiles took it, Scott tugged him into a hug.

"You're still my brother," Scott said.

Stiles returned the hug. "I better be."

They didn't stop being pack. Stiles didn't know if that bond would last despite the distance or fade over time. Regardless, they would always be family, even if not by blood or pack bond.

"There is one other thing I should probably have told you," Stiles said. "Maybe all of you."

Scott waited expectantly with a hand still on Stiles' shoulder. The others watched without approaching or pushing for him to hurry.

"It's been over three years now, and I never really told anyone... Theo knows, but he knew from the start." Stiles shook his head to clear it.

Scott's brows furrowed, but he showed no other sign of concern.

Stiles took a deep breath and plunged in. "I'm not sure if Peter and Lydia know, but I wasn't possessed by the nogitsune. I became part of it. I don't know if I'm returned to my old self or a new version built from salvaged scraps of the original. I only know that I'm Stiles."

Peter tiled his head thoughtfully. Lydia finally looked surprised.

Stiles said, "I'm not the nogitsune anymore. We were separated, and it's gone. The void is not."

Scott's hand tensed on his shoulder.

"I don't know if that means anything as a werewolf," Stiles continued. "I still feel it. The moon makes it stronger, just like it makes my emotions and the darkness around my heart stronger."

"Does it... do anything?" Scott asked.

"It makes me hungry."

"Do you do anything with it?"

"No."

"It's just a feeling?"

"Yes."

"Are..." Scott hesitated. "Are you sure it's real?"

"What?"

"The void that you feel. Is it the real void, or one you feel because something terrible happened to you?"

"You mean is it my imagination?"

Lydia stepped forward. "That's not what he said."

"It's what he meant." Stiles sighed. "You're confused because I don't use it like I did before, but that's because I remember what happens if I feed the hunger."

Lydia's eyes widened with realization.

Malia frowned. "Were we supposed to think Stiles was back to the same as before the nogitsune?"

"Yes?" Stiles guessed.

Malia crossed her arms and glared at Scott. "You told me he crawled out of a pile of bandages the nogitsune puked onto the floor."

"He did," Scott confirmed.

"So he's in a new body."

"Oh shit," Peter muttered from his corner.

Malia continued, "So he's different."

"You didn't think to point that out sooner?" Lydia asked Malia.

"I thought you knew." Malia shrugged with her arms still crossed.

"Apparently, we've been willfully blind," Lydia admitted before adding to Stiles, "It didn't stop you from turning."

Stiles nodded as Scott gave him a grin. Stiles waved Scott's smug face back.

"So it's nothing to worry about?" Stiles asked.

"So I think we can handle it," Lydia replied.

Not the same, but it would do.

Lydia continued, "The nogitsune described it's hunger to me, so I know it's a lot. Let us know when it gets hard."

Stiles nodded.

Scott switched to an encouraging smile. Malia looked confused that this was not already the status quo.

Peter still sat in his chair against the wall, though a trademark smirk had reached his lips. So he wasn't worried.

Malia said, "You haven't attacked us yet."

Stiles looked out the window to see the full moon hanging in the night sky. "I did, just Scott and I were alone at the time."

She ignored that to ask, "Did you answer my question?"

"Question?" Scott asked.

Malia gave him a deadpan stare. "Stiles knows."

"Private. Sorry." Scott winced, but turned to hear Stiles' answer just the same.

Stiles chewed at his thumbnail. These were the people closest to him, the ones he could afford to share with. He had literally just told them his greatest secret.

If control isn't enough, what is?

In the past three weeks, Stiles had failed at this so many times already. How did Malia expect him to conjure an anchor at the last moment? Only hours had passed since she first asked him.

You hated how control felt to the nogitsune, but it couldn't have done those things if you stayed in control.

On the night Stiles turned, Peter describe an anchor differently than Stiles understood it before.

It needs to be something that reminds you of who you are, not what you can do.

That was why his anchors failed. Saving people, hurting people, both were things he did, not who he was.

Become who you are.

Stiles already had. When Scott howled for him, planting the spark that let Stiles become himself. The nogitsune hadn't erased him, but Scott hadn't rebuilt him either. Stiles had to do that himself. Stiles was the one who figured it out. He was the only one who could figure himself out.

Be your own anchor.

"If control is not enough, I am," Stiles said. "I'm enough."

The tension didn't fade, exactly, but it stopped pushing him, like his anchor finally found purchase and stopped the waves from carrying his ship out to sea. It felt sturdier than those he'd tried before.

Peter sighed in relief. The sound was soft, but Stiles felt it in his chest like the bass beat at a live concert, like the beat of his own heart.

.

Though Stiles anchored himself against the full moon's influence, Scott, Lydia, Malia, and Peter stayed the full night at his side. When the former three left in the morning, Stiles pretended to sleep through it where he had passed out on the edge of Derek's bed.

"I don't think you fooled them," Peter said. "I get the feeling they want us to talk."

Stiles opened one eye. "Lydia just wants to know if I'm riding with her."

"That's not all she wants," Peter said.

"I'm not going to force her—"

"I don't want you to," Peter interrupted. "I know what I did to her. I wouldn't take it back, so I can't ask for her forgiveness."

Stiles nodded. Peter had bitten and hospitalized Lydia, but that was the least harmful aspect of what he did. He tormented her mentally with visions, threats, and commands. He forced her to poison her friends and revive a monster.

The monster had been himself, but the point stood.

"You wouldn't take it back because then you'd be dead, right?" Stiles asked.

"Obviously."

Stiles nodded. Interrogating Peter now would serve little purpose. He had still been insane, but even that was an excuse. What mattered for Stiles was that Peter had changed, and he was willing to respect the distance Lydia needed between them. She worked with Peter when it mattered, and that was all they could ask.

Stiles fidgeted with the sleeve of his hoodie. "I passed my full moon test."

"We're all very proud," Peter drawled.

"I mean, tell me how you healed!"

"Oh, tea. Did you really believe I drank that much purple reishi?"

"I'm an idiot."

"You were distracted."

"A distracted idiot." Stiles shook his head. "How many kinds of magic tea do you have?"

"As many as can be useful to me."

"This is why people don't like you."

"And here I thought it was the murder."

"Fine, both."

Peter managed to smirk and sigh at the same time. "You may have noticed I drank hot tea primarily when we had company. Those were the times I siphoned healing."

"You know I didn't notice because I'm a distracted idiot."

"At least you're pretty, dear."

Stiles hated that he blushed almost as much as the smug look on Peter's face when he did.

"Sooooo," Stiles said, drawing out the word as he willed his face back to normal. "What should I tell Lydia?"

Peter shoved Stiles' feet from the bed to make room for himself. "This town has always been both a safe haven and a pit trap. I come back because my daughter does, but I can do so as a visitor as easily as a resident."

"You're willing to move."

"You needed time to think," Peter reminded him.

Stiles nodded.

"Have you?" Peter pressed.

Stiles nodded again.

Peter raised an eyebrow, the only sign of impatience he allowed.

"What if we don't work out?" Stiles asked. "Do you just come back here?"

"It is a habit I've fallen into."

"And us? I'm friends with my exes, but you almost killed yours not long ago."

Peter rolled his eyes with more levity than the question warranted. "You must know me well enough to realize that was because she came after Malia."

"That wasn't quite an answer," Stiles muttered.

"I don't have one."

Stiles nodded, though a sigh escaped him despite himself. Peter was older than Stiles, but his emotions had been twisted to such an extent that he probably never had a normal relationship to hold up as an example.

Stiles asked, "And what if we do work out?"

"I suspect we discuss that as it occurs. For now, we only need to know if I'm going to DC. We're dating, not married."

Stiles didn't want to admit how much that reassured him, but Peter must have read it on his face.

Peter took his hand. "If we stay together, there will come a time when I'll want you to be mine, and then you can decide. But not yet."

"You're talking awfully reasonably." Stiles frowned. "You're saying what you think I want to hear so I'll agree to stay together."

Peter shrugged.

Stiles snatched his hand away from Peter. "I want to know how you feel, not to be coddled and manipulated."

"I want to go with you. I want you." Peter's eyes burned unnaturally blue with the force of his emotion. "I don't want to wait for you."

Stiles felt his eyes widen in recognition. "So if you don't go to DC, we're through?"

"I avoided those words intentionally."

Stiles laughed, though it left Peter looking more than a little taken aback.

Stifling his humor before Peter stormed out, Stiles managed to say, "I want that too. I refuse to date long distance. It's for stronger people than me."

"I can't fool you enough to lie, and when I stop trying, you agree entirely." The trademark smirk bloomed on Peter's lips. "I daresay we may be nearly perfect for each other."

Stiles returned the smirk with a wild grin. "Come home with me and find out."

"I think I will."

Peter pulled Stiles forward into a kiss that lasted through Stiles pushing him back to lie on the bed.

After some time, Stiles admitted, "When I told you I couldn't say I loved you back..."

"I'm patient," Peter said before Stiles mustered the courage to finish his sentence. "I can wait."

Stiles said. "I wasn't ready because caring about you is confusing, not because I don't."

"Wasn't? Past tense?" Peter asked.

"You're still confusing." Stiles grinned. "But that's part of what I love about you."

Peter lacked the decency to smile instead of smirk, but honestly, Stiles loved that too.

It was late before Stiles told Lydia she could drive back east on her own while he caught a flight with Peter, and nearly a year before he left his dorm roommate behind for Peter's apartment.

The pack bond with Scott and the others faded over time but never broke. It pulsed with renewed energy on holiday trips to Beacon Hills and when Peter and Stiles answered Scott's occasional call for backup. The stronger link remained Stiles' bond with Peter. It grew through hearts once encased in darkness and madness as they grew closer, and stronger, together.