AN;
TRIGGER WARNINGS- nothing too severe or graphic just implied. References made to childhood sexual abuse, neglect, trauma, some mild self harm, and implied disassociation.
I'm back! TBH this was written ages ago ngl but updating ASW always drains me due to editing. Plus school is very intense for me right now. My bad, y'all. But, I'll be dropping a double update to make up for it a bit.
Anyways!
There are officially 8 parts to this series, so if you enjoy reading this soul's journey through the cycle of reincarnation across the multiverse, maybe check them out? Though, all fics can be read independently too!
As always, thank you guys for showing your love for my work, and for being so patient with me. I hope yall enjoy and leave your thoughts down below! Hearing from you guys is my favorite part.
Discord!
https://discord.gg/XhqUDAnbsH
XXXXXXXXXX
"Mama!" I say the minute the call connects, relief and frustration sending me to my feet as I pace across my room. "It's been two weeks! Why haven't you answered the damn phone?!"
"What? No hello for your mother, habbibi! " my mom scolds lightly, and I squish down the prickle of instinctive guilt as I remind myself I'm rightfully angry.
"Mama," I say tightly.
"I tried to call! The time differences, well, you know how it is. You didn't answer my calls either," she replies, exasperated, but not wrong.
I grit my teeth, wanting to scream that I was the daughter, that she always called when I was in class and that I always tried to call back. Shouldn't she have been more concerned? Why was it always my fault, especially when she could call Mel or the Sheriff if she really wanted to get in contact.
"Forget it," I say with a sigh. "Did you finish the negotiations for that Belgium contract you guys were working on?"
"We did! Mike was brilliant! That contract will do so much for our family! It-"
"That sounds great mom," I interrupt, a bit strained, knowing that if I don't, I'll be stuck listening to her ramble. "But mama, isn't it time for you to come home now?"
There was a pause then, silent yet speaking a thousand words, and I knew immediately this would go the same way it always does. "Layla, I'd love too, but things right now are just not-"
"No," I cut in flatly.
"N-no? What do you-"
"Mom, you need to come home," I say sharply, eyes flickering to Iggy, who is now stirring awake from his nap, cradled safely between pillows on my bed. Cursing internally, I scoop him up and begin rocking him gently, hoping he'll silently slip back into sleep. I should have known better than to answer a call while he napped, but then again, it's not like I thought my mom would actually answer.
"Layla," my mother says,tone turning warning and stern from my commanding, unyielding words, but all that does is make me want to bare my teeth and dig my heels in harder. "I can't just-"
"You can," I snap unable to hold back any longer. "If you actually give a shit about your children!"
"Layla! I am your mother! Don't you dare speak to me like that!" She snaps back. " I didn't raise you to talk to your others like that-"
"You didn't raise me at all!" I yell, and baby Iggy begins to whine. Careful to keep my hands gentle, I bounce him lightly as I turn on heel, stalking out of my room and to the kitchen. Luckily, the house was empty for once, everyone off doing something or other.
"I- is that a baby? Are you baby sitting?-" my mom asks, her indignation replaced by confusion.
I stomp into the kitchen, making the baby a bottle of formula as I put my phone on speaker and slip Iggy into a high chair, reluctantly ignoring his cries in favor of having two hands to make his bottle faster. "No. Yes. Kind of. It doesn't matter! You'd know all about this if you'd managed to call or make it home anytime recently!"
"…Layla,…. Did you have a kid?!"
I groan. "Mom-"
"Was it those boys? Silas or Stuart, or whatever their names were?"
"Mama!" I snap, pissed at her for messing up the names of my two oldest friends of years, and the insinuation. Was she seriously accusing one of them of being my baby daddy when their damn parents are the ones caring for me while she was off doing gods know what?
"You should have known better! I knew I shouldn't have let you run around with boys like an American girl" My mother explodes and I grit my teeth, forcing myself to hold my composure, squinting my eyes to make sure I'm measuring out the correct amount of water for the baby, ignoring both his increasing volume and my mother's. "I will have your uncle come sort you out! I thought the Sheriff and Melissa would watch you, but I misjudged them! Just because I'm out of the country, doesn't mean you can start acting like a whore-"
I have a split second to feel my magic spikes and, knowing I can only direct it now, I throw my palm towards the kitchen window above the sink, shattering it outwards, safely away from the baby and myself.
The sound is thunderous and mercifully my mom falls silent, even though Iggy doesn't. But still, I feel myself calm. With a shuddering breath, I decide to ignore my destroyed window, jagged bits of glass littering the frame and catching the light. Making it someone else's problem, I shake the baby bottle to mix it and scoop up Iggy and my phone, heading to the sitting room as I begin to soothe the now gold eyed,very upset baby werebear.
"-ayla! What was that!?"
I huff. "Give me a minute."
Thankfully, my mother does, perhaps more out of shock than mercy. Iggy takes the bottle with minimal reluctance. After a few minutes, I let out a sigh. Then I spill out years worth of resentment in one tirade, voice low and even despite its venom in an effort to keep the baby against my chest from fussing. "You got some fucking nerve-" my mother makes a scandalized tone. "-talking about my family like that. Like Mel and Noah haven't been the ones raising me while you trapeze across the word with your newest bad decision- oh sorry, I mean, husband. Though I admit, he's an improvement over the last several."
"Y-you-" my mother sputters, sounding genuinely shocked and hurt, but any guilt I might have felt is drowning beneath a rising tide of righteous fury.
"How dare you assume you have any grounds to judge my actions? That's a right given to a mother, a role you voluntarily forfeited because motherhood was too fucking hard, right?"
"…Layla, you know that's not-"
"I don't know!" I hiss, and have to take another deep breath as Iggy flinches, letting out a small cry of protest and I scramble to force down the magic making random objects float around me. "Just like you know nothing of how Sunya and I live here."
"No, habbibi, please!" She protests, sounding tearful, but I'm too angry to care for once. "I just- I just wanted to make a better life for you. You and Sunya…. You deserve so much more than just barely having enough food to put on the table, like how it was when it was just you and I. Don't you know that everything I've done has been for you two?!"
"Don't," I hiss out sharply. "Don't make me the bad guy, the selfish one! You always do this!"
"What?! I'm not-"
"You are," I growl, even as I gently set Iggy on my shoulder as I pace the sitting room, trying to work off my agitation. "I'm not unreasonable for being pissed you left Sunya and I here. For years! On our fucking own! I'm not wrong for being mad that I've had to raise her in this nice house all by myself with only a nanny and my friends' parents to help! I'm not wrong for being humiliated that I'm Mel and Noah's burden they didn't ask for and would never admit to because they are unbelievably kind!"
My mobther sobs and I clutch Iggy closer in trembling hands as the sound rattles my soul. I've only ever heard Mama cry a few times in my entire life and… I don't want to think about those times. "You make it sound like I abandoned you two!"
"You did!" I scream, hearing seven things shatter under silver light, Iggy crying in my arms and at this moment, I hate my mother. "You've missed Sunya's last two birthdays, only giving her a late call! You've missed three of mine and my middle school graduation. You weren't here when I had an… accident and nearly died!
"What?! What acc-"
"I just wanted to hear your voice…You didn't even pick up the phone," I choke out, strangled and devastated as my anger begins to drain away like waves into sand and earth, leaving only grief.
"You weren't here to see me adopt a sibling and bring him to live with us because he didn't have anywhere else to go and I didn't bother asking permission because even though I know you would have refused to allow it, I also knew you weren't around to object. You weren't here to ask about my last eye doctor appointment where they said I would probably keep losing my vision until I only have 30% of it. You weren't here to see the people who hurt me and helped me, the ones that have become my family without you and you never even asked!" I pant, ragged and feeling like I've been torn apart, sanded raw. I notice through teary eyes the shadow settling into the space next to me, and blinking away the tears I hadn't realized I was shedding, I see a blank faced Peter holding out his hands.
I stare, trying to process his presence and instinctively knowing that, however, much he heard, it was too much. With trembling arms, I pass over the baby, unable to meet his eyes as I grab my phone and head for the backyard, dropping onto the patio chair, head in hands. "…Isn't that abandoning us?"
"I-I'm sorry. I never meant…," my mother sounds lost. The only time I'd heard her sound like this was the night she found out just what kind of monster she'd brought into our house, all those years ago. "I just… I wanted more than survival for us."
"I know," I choke out. "But I just wanted my mom."
I look at the sky, my pain the kind that puts down roots into your flesh and bones and grows into your soul, deep and stubborn. "Do you know what it's like to have to look Sunya in the eye and try to convince her that you don't hate us? That you're not just avoiding us when you cancel every single trip home?"
My mother weeps and the guilt returns but it's quickly squashed by her next words. "Okay, it's my fault. I'm a terrible mother. But a baby?!" Peter, the nosy bastard, has apparently given up on pretending not to listen, appearing in the backyard door way, Iggy not with him as he stares me down with glowing wolf eyes, uncharacteristically serious. "You're not even 16 yet! Is… is this because of… your trauma? I heard that childhood sexual trauma can cause hypersexuality-"
My brain shuts down, unable to comprehend the words she just spoke. The world goes dark and all I can feel for a moment is unwanted touches and the desire to peel my own skin off. It's a sharp cracking sound that brings me back to reality and I blink several times, my eyes finding Peter once more. The man is in full beta shift, teeth bared in a silent enraged snarl, and the backyard door in splinters at his feet. His aura is a flood of a thick viscous kind of rage, the kind that clutches and grasps, unshakable in its persistence.
Ah,… he's really hearing it all today.
"-la! Layla!"
"I'm here," I breathe out shakily, reaching up to press my flower crown between my palms, noting vaguely the thorns digging into my palms. "... l… The baby isn't mine. I'm just watching him since the Sheriff is fostering him."
"…Oh," my mother says faintly. "I-"
"I don't want to talk to you right now," I say dully, shame forcing my eyes to my bare feet, buried in tall grass. "J-just… just come home. There's so much… Sunya…."
"….I'm coming home. I'll book the flight tonight. I… I promise," my mother replies, and my breath catches.
"…Promise?"
"Yes, this time, I'll really come home. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, habibi."
I press shaky hands to my face, unable to forgive or believe her. But it's more than I was expecting to get from her. "Okay. I'll see you soon then."
"Soon. I love you. Both of you," she whispers wetly.
I hang up, pressing my knuckles hard into my orbital bones. With a deep breath I turn to look at Peter, whose face is hard as stone even though it's human looking now. Before I can even figure out what to say to him, he beats me to it. " Give me a name."
"i- what?" I reply, taken aback by the unexpected demand. "M-my mom's name?"
"No," he says flatly. " I imagine I'll be meeting her soon enough. I mean the one who hurt you."
I stare at him uncomprehendingly, and carefully, very slowly, he takes a half step towards me. When I don't react, he takes another and another until he's standing only a foot from where I'm sitting. Then with a shocking amount of gentleness, he reaches out and takes one of my hands in his, dropping to kneel on the floor next to me. "I'm the Left Hand. It's my job to protect the pack."
It takes me a few moments to process what exactly he's getting. I look away from it, unable to keep eye contact with the vicious intensity hidden behind the human façade. I'm stricken by how much of the wolf is showing despite none of the outward features being present, the feeling of it howling and biting just beneath his skin is clear and all consuming. "Th-that… man it's no longer a threat."
"Is he dead?"
"…No."
"In jail?" He asks evenly, eyes flashing blue the only indication of his inner turmoil.
"No," I admit, feeling whatever color left in my face drain away at the reminder as I try to tell myself that I was safe regardless. "We didn't have money to take him to court or enough evidence to bring charges against him."
Peter nods, gently rubbing circles on my knuckles. "Then I'll make sure he never becomes a threat to you, to us. I promise, you won't ever see him."
I gulp. "…You're gonna kill him? You don't need to do that as long as he stays away…"
"Maybe I will, maybe I'll just keep an eye on him. But if I do kill him, it wouldn't be on you. It will merely be me deciding to save innocent children who could be victimized in the future."
The thought of the victims that might have come after me has me trembling silently and unconsciously for several long moments before Peter manages to helps me get my breathing back in order. "… I don't want to make you do my dirty work."
Peter snorts. "I don't consider this dirty work, just environmental upkeep."
That's enough to actually startle a laugh out of me, surprising us both. Peter's face grows serious again. " Would you like me to bring him here to do it yourself?"
"I don't know," I say, and the answer surprises me with its candidness. What did it say about Guardians if this is my moral code, the one that Suhel chose me for?
Peter nods again, not looking upset. "You don't need to worry about anything. Just give me the name."
I give him it and later, when I'm curled up with Peter and Iggy watching movies and eating ice cream while the older man pets my hair softly, I wonder if I'm a bad person.
And in the morning, when I wake up, unafraid and reassured by Peter's presence downstairs, I decide I don't really care.
XXXXXXXXXX
" I don't understand!" Stiles wails as I struggle to manipulate the water of the lake to douse the third fire Stiles had started today. " I haven't had much issue with this spell before I had the staff! But now everything I try ends up in a fiery explosion!"
Stiles and I were deep in the preserve, doing our damn best to work on magic casting. My progress with my magic had slowed due to my trashed mental stability, but I was still doing better than the Stiles, who for some reason, seemed to get worse when using Loki's staff rather than better. The nearby nymphs were watching with great amusement, generously volunteering to put out any fires I was unable to. The tree nymphs, however, had noped the fuck out after the second tree went up like a sparkler on the Fourth of July, but they still understood the necessity of our practice.
I pant from exertion, pushing sweaty silver hair out of my eyes. "It's a staff from a trickster god. Did you honestly think it was going to be easy to master? It's probably predisposed to chaos on top of that, not to mention it feels somewhat sentient."
Stiles growls, impressively for someone who wasn't a shifter, if I do say so myself. "Only we would end up with a staff that is picky about its owner. Why don't you try it? I'm sure it'll like you better anyway.!"
I scoff. "No, that thing is better suited for you."
"What do you mean?" Stiles asks as he drops down next to me on the bank of the little lake, sticking his feet into the water next to mine.
I shrug. "I get the feeling it's not meant for me, and a guardian doesn't really need something like that. My magic is all intuition and… Esoteric? Maybe? I don't know how to explain it, but it feels like once that thing accepts you, it'll be perfect for you."
Stiles groans, kicking lightly to splash some water. "And why the heck do you think it'll even choose to acknowledge me? I don't think anything has ever chosen me. Hell, I'm still picked last for dodgeball! And you can't even see the ball coming!"
I snicker because he wasn't actually wrong on that last part. "That's because you sent that kid to the nurse's office in ninth grade and no one wanted to risk it after that. But we're digressing here. I'm confident that Loki's staff will accept you. How could it not? I don't know anyone on this earth, more incredible, passionate, determined, clever, not to mention fucking chaotic-"
"Shut up! Okay, I get it!" Stiles yelps, and, in a masterful show of why he doesn't get picked for dodgeball, inadvertently sends me headfirst into the lake with a flailing limb. I resurface with a groan, only to hear his profuse apologies, but I wave him off.
I brace myself on his knees, using it to keep afloat so I can look him in the eye. "I'm serious! I believe in you. If anyone can earn the respect of a trickster staff with their mind and magic, it's you."
Stiles gazes at me, lips parted and whiskey eyes glimmering distractingly in the sunlight peeking through the canopy. "You really believe that, huh? I'll never understand how much faith you have in me."
I frown, pressing closer until I am floating part way between his thighs as I grip his arms and shake him lightly. " Well, I never understand how you can doubt yourself as worthy of my faith when you've never let me down. Hell, I'm pretty sure you were the person who taught me how to trust and rely on others in the first place."
Stiles's breath hitches and he leans forward to press his brow to mine, fingers tangling in wet silver strands. "Layla-"
The giggling nymphs nearby drag us back to reality, and I blink, realizing how intimate our position looks right now as he leans over me, fingers tangled in my hair as my arms brace on his thighs, my own hands on his hips, mere inches between us. Deciding I need to break the tension right fucking now before I do something stupid, like confess my undying love and devotion, I grin and promptly drag him into the water with me, cackling.
"Oi!"
"Revenge, bitch!"
"Oh, bring it!"
XXXXXXXXXX
"Dude, is it just me or is this bigger than the original design?" I blurt, one hand pressed to Iggy's back where he's wrapped against my chest, the other tucked into Derek's arm.
"Don't call me dude," Derek mutters back in exasperated fondness. "And yeah, the Dwarves were… insistent. They said we'd need more space and then Uncle Peter got involved. He started bitching about the prestige of a patch house and not settling for anything less than the finest. I stopped listening when he started talking about indoor saunas and heated floors."
I furrow my brow as Derek answers my silent question. "It's because we're not just making a pack house. This county is Hale territory, obviously, but you yourself have territory that includes a good portion of this continent, since that's what comes under the protection of Suhel."
I blanch, having forgotten just how much territory I personally held. "So a shit ton of creatures will be coming through looking for me."
"Yeah," Derek says, sounding none too happy. "And the pack house needs to be able to shelter lots of them and withstand attacks.
"Sorry," I say meekly, only to receive a dirty look.
"Don't be stupid. As if you aren't beyond worth it,"
I make a high pitched noise terrifying close to a squeak, and to my horror, I feel my face growing hot. Am I blushing? I didn't even know I could do that?!
"Anyway, Andrew and Phoebe have decided to help the dwarves with construction since their business won't be up and running for a while yet," Derek continues walking me around the inside of the half finished mansion. Already, most of the foundation was built along with structures for floors and walls, plumbing and electricity already in place.
"Andrew and Phoebe?" I ask.
"The Giants, who plan to start a winery outside of town," Stiles explains, popping up on my other side and promptly tripping on a wooden plank. "Super nice couple. They gave me a gift basket of some of their brews. According to Peter, even the werewolves can get drunk off some of the Giant alcohol. It's a supernatural delicacy."
"Ah," I say in recognition even as I steady him. "Cool."
"Layla?" Derek asks, slightly hesitant.
"Yeah?" I ask, admiring the partially constructed cabinets of the spacious kitchen.
"When you told me about Peter and Kate…." I stiffen, turning to eye the Alpha sharply. "… You never got around to telling me what the good news was."
"….Ah, fuck," I mutter, my stomach dropping. I had no idea how to approach the conversation considering I was still recovering from how badly it went last time. "I… Are you ready to know?"
"I am," Derek declares certainly, but I'm not actually sure I believe him.
I chew on my lip for a few moments before softly, calling out to Peter, who like always, appears out of a dark corner like a shadow seemingly spawning from hell.
"Right," I say, nervously tugging on my braid before I take Stiles and lead everyone out and to the tree line, letting the dwarf crafters do their thing without fear of the house being wrecked in a fit of anger. Once we enter the tree line, I turn to face both wolves, making sure to lead Stiles, Iggy, and myself just a bit further out of their reach.
"…Layla, I… I wouldn't hurt you," Derek says softly, the hurt clear and I flinch, but don't approach closer.
"I know," I state, hoping it's not a lie. "I just wanna make sure you guys have space in case."
"Isn't it supposed to be good news?" Peter asks, crossing his arms over his chest, and I roll my eyes at the confirmation that once again he is a shameless eavesdropper.
"It is, " I agree. "Um, I'm not sure how to say this, but there are two more Hakes alive in the world."
The silence is deafening, and it leaves me carefully wrapping my arms around Iggy, as both wolves turn dangerously still, leaving me, fighting the urge to back farther away.
"Hales?" The word is whispered with such vulnerability that it takes me a second to even realize that it came from Peter..
"Yes," I agree. "Cora escaped. She's somewhere in South America. I… my visions aren't working so well right now, b-but I promise I'm working to find a number. I-I just, like, need some time-"
"Layla," Derek breathes and I flinch when he appears in front of me blindingly fast, but his hands are slow when they draw me into a tender embrace, the baby wearbear still tucked between us. Derek presses a soft kiss to the crown of my head, eyes blazing red, but not a hint of anger to be found just awe and relief and grief so profound it has me nearly swaying. "I know. Thank you."
Silently, Peter joins the hug, leaving Stiles to suction himself around us all as best he can with that same goofy grin.
"Okay, so Cora did make it out," Peter says, a grin slowly widening on his face. "I thought I imagined it."
"Uncle?" Derek asks, turning wide eyes to the older wolf.
" I remember, throwing her out the window before heading down to the lower level of the house where the rest of the family was trapped," Peter says grimly. " I don't know if it was a weak spot in the mountain Ash barrier, or something to do with the wards that were on the house, or even the shape of the house itself, but I managed to force her through, albeit with many burns and broken bones on both of our parts, but still. When I went down to get the rest who clearly weren't able to find a way out, the stairs collapsed."
I wince and turn to pull the man deeper into our group hug, earning a surprised, yet delighted smile.
"So, who else made it out?" Stiles asks.
I grimace. "No one. The other Hale wasn't in the fire."
Derek's doom eye brows are pointed directly at me and at this distance I can see the kaleidoscope of color clear enough for them to work full force on me. "Ugh, um Peter? You got a kid."
"….I beg your finest fucking pardon?!" Peter blurts.
XXXXXXXXXX
"So, I had some kind of fling with the infamous mercenary known as the Desert Solf when I was, what? 17? 18?"
"Yup."
" And she got pregnant with a daughter."
"Uh huh."
" For some reason, said daughter absorbed all of her mother's shifter powers, or at least that's what she thought."
"Yup."
"And so the Desert Wolf tried to murder my child, and Talia thought, for some reason, the best way to protect her was to stick her with a human family not in the know and wipe my memories of it!?" Peter yells, eyes blazing as he waves clawed hands in the most unelegant thing I've ever seen him do.
I shrug helplessly. "I'm honestly not really sure what happened. This is just what we know from Suhel's fractured memories and consciousness at that time and some of my fragmented visions.. I'm really sorry, but I haven't been able to see much at all, let alone something that would explain Talia's actions," I say meekly, curling a bit in on myself.
Once more, my own cowardice is proving detrimental to those that need me. First, I miss the warnings about Ezra's coven being attacked, and now I'm too useless to find the information Peter and Derek need.
Peter storms over only to hug me again, resting his palm on the top of my head and I relax into the hug, surprising myself with how easy it is. Despite the short amount of time that the Left Hand has been back, the differences between his feral self and now is only growing clearer. This Peter isn't perhaps kind in the traditional sense. But he had thrown himself headfirst into becoming a true part of this pack, holding no reservations about taking care of the children, making food for us all, or taking on errands for the pack. He had yet to be particularly tactile with anyone outside of Derek, Stiles, the children, and I, but he could be oddly gentle at the most startling of times. "Don't apologize for things that aren't your fault. Don't apologize for telling me about my lost pup."
I nod hesitantly, "I… I don't know where she is. She's a coyote in the woods somewhere, but I have no idea which woods or if it's even the preserve I saw. It could technically be anywhere."
The preserve was utterly massive on its own, spanning thousands of acres, not to mention the dozens of other preserves just in California alone.
"It doesn't matter. I will find her," Peter says with a level of terrifying certainty that made me feel a genuine spark of respect for the man, quickly followed by a sharp, biting sorrow from questioning if my own mother had that kind of determination for me.
"We will find her," Stiles corrects. "I'll start looking for rituals and ask our allies."
"I'll ask the Sheriff for the case file on Malia and work with the nemeton. It might take time, but Suhel should be able to find any on his land." I offer.
"I'll help search the preserve," Derek rumbles. "We'll treat it like pack training on tracking for Calista, Scott, and Jackson."
My magic says that Peter is crying, overwhelmed by even this much support, though his face is dry on the outside. "I… appreciate the help."
"Can't you just say thank you like a normal person," Stiles snarks, and just like that the heavy atmosphere is broken by the emissary and left hand bitching at one another once more.
XXXXXXXXXX
AN;
Peter settling in perfectly, lol
Lots of hard conversations had, but all necessary.
How are y'all? I missed you guys!