Summary: There's nothing more exhilarating than someone who understands.
Steter Secret Santa Exchange prompt: Moral ambiguity, libraries, Magic
Disclaimer: If I owned Teen Wolf, it would be Stiles-centric and star more Steter.
Chapter 1
The change began with his spark, surprisingly enough.
Before the Nogitsune, it had been a warm glowing ember in the center of his chest, pulsing and bright, almost childlike.
But afterwards…
Afterwards that little spark went from a pulsing ember to a roaring inferno, it's once warm glow now a cold burning that encased his heart. Where it was once child-like and playful, it was wary and bitter, stronger than it had ever been yet terrified of itself.
Just like him.
Following his spark, came the memories.
Thousands of years of memories, none of which belonged to him, integrated themselves into his mind, melding with so little effort it was almost as if they'd been there all along. With them came power and knowledge, ancient and heady as it wove itself into his magic and became something else entire, no longer the Nogitsune but not entirely his either.
Languages he'd never spoken suddenly left his lips as if they'd done so all his life, sometimes slipping into his everyday conversation unbidden.
No one even noticed.
In the wake of the destruction wreaked by the nogitsune while it was wearing his face, the pack paid as little attention to him as possible.
They didn't notice that his skin was paler than it's ever been, lighter than the fair peach it had been before but darker that the nogitsune's deathly pale. Tattoos, lines and lines of Japanese kanji marred his arms, a necklace of protection runes tattooed around his throat, hidden only by his overly-large plaid shirts, yet still peeking through.
Eyes once the color of sunlit whiskey, darkened to the color of unfiltered honey, little flashes of violet lightning flashing within them every few seconds if one looked close enough. His hair, having grown slightly, was long enough to frame his face, the texture no long that of human hair, but the dense softness of fur.
They didn't notice…and he didn't care.
He focused on training his new power, integrating the nogitsune's - Katsumi's (克己)- memories into his own. He visited bookstores and the obscure sections of the library that no one went to anymore, becoming such a regular that the librarian offered him a job.
He took it.
With the pack ignoring him, and his father helping the sheriff's station recover from the Katsumi's rampage, he needed a distraction other than his steadily growing abilities.
Linda, the librarian, was a kindly old woman that he vaguely remembered from when his mother worked in the library when he was a child. Her fondness for his mother had transferred to him and he found his collection of book growing larger when old tomes they no longer checked out were suddenly being given to him.
It was through his job at the library that he first heard the whispers.
Linda had sent him to San Fran to pick up a new order of books that had just come in with the order to, 'take his time' and 'explore'. He'd done as she'd bid, checking out the city's supernatural underground discreetly.
One of the places he'd visited was a little 'hole in the wall' bar named Absinthe.
The place was run by the Alpha of the San Fran Pack, Jared Fernandez, and was popular amongst the supernaturals in the city.
It was a place to gather information and he quickly became a regular using Katsumi's name, although most of the patrons simply called him, Kit. He went on his off days, or when he had nothing better to do, watching and listening.
Learning.
What he learned, was not good.
There were whispers about Beacon Hills and the lure it held over the supernatural.
Of the fallen Hale pack, its once great numbers decimated to an ostracized Beta, a former failure of an Alpha, and a wayward Beta who chose a different pack over her blood and wanted nothing to do with the former two, none of whom resided on their ancestral land.
Of a True Alpha, that was a failure as an Alpha despite the legends.
Of weakness.
The whispers spoke of Scott's naivety and of how easy it was to get away with things in Beacon Hills because the Alpha always let you go.
They laughed about the boy playing at being a man and of his failure to take care of the outstanding threats to his pack, despite defeating the likes of the Alpha pack and a kanima.
They murmured about what they would do if they were to claim Beacon Hills and of how easy it would be.
None of them noticed the darkness that flashed in his gaze as they spoke or the way he bristled.
Perhaps it was time to put Katsumi's power to use.
He hated weakness...and he refused to be associated with it.
So, he trained harder.
In between supernatural threats, work, and school he trained harder until controlling his abilities was like breathing.
Until his memories and Katsumi's were one.
It was one of the best decisions he'd ever made.
*/*
The first kill came only a month after he'd started visiting Absinthe.
A coven of witches had come to town intent on harnessing the Nemeton's power.
The pack had scrambled around, depending on his research to defeat them. Once they were surrounded, Scott presented them a choice.
Leave or Eichen House.
With Derek and Peter gone, there was no one to tell him that the plan was stupid...no one but Stiles, and the pack had long since stopped listening to him, so he didn't speak.
He watched.
He watched as the witches simpered and shed crocodile tears, 'promising' to leave and not return.
He watched Scott give them a compassionate smile, let them leave, and tried not to sneer.
They'd be back.
The pack left shortly after the witches did and a slightly feral smirk crossed Stiles' lips.
Time to hunt.
*/*
As he'd thought, the witches were still in Beacon Hills, camping not too far from the Nemeton.
The tree pulsed at his arrival, gifting him with a hesitant greeting and he gifted it with a gentle caress of his magic in return.
His prey looked up as they sensed his presence, smirking in relief when they saw that it was 'just the human'.
"You said you would leave." He stated softly, honey eyes cold as they met the Head witch's gaze.
The woman sneered at him, painted red lips pulled back to reveal yellowing teeth.
"Everyone knows that McCall doesn't check to see if people actually leave. The puppy just hopes that everyone is nice and will do what they promise they will."
He tilted his head, noticing in vague amusement that she seemed unnerved by his impassive gaze.
Good.
"So, you aren't leaving?" He replied, and her sneer deepened.
"Go home, little boy."
He stepped forward and smiled at her, a sickening parody of the carefree grin he'd once used to mask his emotions and watched as the first tendrils of fear entered her gaze.
"You should have left."
Lightning flashed in the sky above them, honeyed eyes darkening into a vivid amethyst.
Between one second and the next, the coven was nothing but ash and a small black fox was leaving the clearing, violet eyes glowing in the dim night.
The forest was silent.
*/*
It continued in this way for months.
Junior year ended with little fanfare, the worst of the supernatural threats taken care of before they ever reached Scott's notice.
He kept an ear to the ground, branching out and creating alliances for a pack that never noticed and never cared, feeling a detached sense of amusement at their ignorance.
The whispers began to change.
They spoke of the violet eyes beast the True Alpha had tamed.
Of the monster that protected Beacon Hills and how the benevolence of the alpha was more of a ruse than a fact.
They spoke of swift merciless deaths and the chilling laugh of the devil.
Of how seeing a small black fox would lead to death in Beacon Hills.
He heard them all, and he laughed, when everyone came to one conclusion.
Beacon Hills was off limits.
*/*
Summer passed much the same as the tail end of junior year, with him taking care of the worst of the supernatural threats and leaving the smaller ones to the pack. He played the part of the weak human, 'researching' the creatures as if he hadn't already done so, listening as they belittled his humanity while praising Lydia's.
His father noticed, keen blue eyes seeing more of him than he'd ever had the courage to show anyone else, and in the place of the disgust he'd expected, he found pride.
He'd questioned it, of course he had, and had been stunned when the elder Stilinski had clasped him on the shoulder and smiled at him.
"I've always known you were different, son. I know you won't hurt innocent people, even though you don't care for anyone but me and Mel, and I understand. I'm here if you need me."
He gave the man the strongest hug he could have given him without crushing him with his new strength.
It was the first time he'd truly smiled in a long time.
So of course, Derek and Peter had to come back that same day.
Fuckers.
TBC...
