Title: Insight

I : The Beginning

Author: tmjohn72

Rating: T

A/N - Insight is here!

Please forgive any spelling and grammatical errors. Also, I'm very sorry for the delay in getting this out since "Hindsight" finished. I've just started a new job so things may be released a little slower than normal.

Lastly, this story is going to have some shorter chapters and others that might be a little long. When there are short chapters I'll try to upload two if I can. Enjoy!

four weeks later

Stiles hid behind a large oak tree and ignored the way his hands tingled when he touched the bark. All natural things had energy in one form or another, he was aware, but knowing that fact and feeling the energy for himself were two very different things. His view of the world had changed a lot since developing is gifts and going through training. Erica growled from fifty feet away and he watched as her claws cut into the corpse and severed its head from the rest of the body.

Derek and Jackson were side by side not far from where she was, fighting their own members of the revived dead. They took them down with ease and they grouped together while Allison and Scott joined them from wherever they had previously been. Stiles concentrated so that he could hear their conversation from where he was.

"There were eight of them this time. That means the Necromancer must be getting stronger."

"It's bad enough that your father is calling in a group of Hunters to deal with this," Derek said to Allison, "we don't need dozens of revived corpses roaming the streets too."

"He has to do something. Four people have been killed by these things. As much as we're trying we don't seem to be helping all that much."

"I'll talk to Stiles. Maybe he can help us track down the Necromancer," Scott said.

"No, leave Stiles out of this. You guys take care of the bodies while I go talk to Deaton," Derek ordered.

Allison groaned as they turned to the decapitated corpses littered around them. Stiles watched Derek walk to the edge of the forest and enter. Stiles stood so that he wasn't visible to them. His mind was full of all of the spells and counter-spells that he had been learning but none of them would be able to lead him to the town's newest threat. Everything he tried to use to find the Necromancer failed and Morrell told him that it just wasn't something he was capable of. He didn't like hearing that excuse.

He started to walk back to the jeep but he stilled when the energy around him shifted. "I had a feeling you were nearby," Derek said, walking out of the darkness so that Stiles could see him.

"I'm just here observing the latest threat. You all didn't need my help."

"We're capable of handling this. You don't need to get involved."

Stiles looked into his eyes and suppressed the urge he had to apologize for his stupidity and beg the Alpha to take him back. He knew that too much had changed now and there was no way it would work out even if they were both stupid enough to put their past behind them and give it a try. "Someone's disrupting the flow of nature and killing people with resurrected corpses. I was born to deal with this."

"Do you know who the Necromancer is?"

"Not yet."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Stiles thought about it as he began walking towards the jeep. He heard Derek following. "Why don't you ask Deaton? I thought you didn't want me involved."

"I don't. Whoever is responsible is dangerous."

"So am I," he said, and he sensed Derek tense up.

"Just tell me what you know. We're both already here," Derek said.

"It's not much. A Necromancer reanimates corpses using some of the darkest magics in existence. Over time he or she is going to grow more powerful to the point that raising an army of servants will be a cake walk. The only plus is the more power they put into reviving them, the easier it is to sense and track."

Derek sighed which told Stiles that he wasn't pleased with his answer. "That's it? We just wait until he can raise an army before we can do anything?"

"That's all that I can do on the supernatural side. I'm going to use some old fashioned detective work to see if I can figure out any connection between the victims. If the Necromancer is targeting them for a specific reason I may be able to find it. That could help me figure out who's next on the list."

"What if I asked you not to get involved?"

Stiles stopped walking and turned to face him. "Why wouldn't you want me to get involved?"

"Because I care about you and I don't want you to get hurt."

"I thought we just went over that. You don't think I can handle this?"

"I'm just saying that I want you to be safe."

Stiles didn't know how to answer. He was both annoyed and thankful when Derek began walking back towards the cemetery. He had learned to accept what Deaton, Lydia, and Derek did to him and managed to get over most of the anger he felt along the way but hearing Derek show him any concern seemed to be a foreign concept since they barely spoke more than ten words to each other since the night he stumbled upon his makeout session with Danny. He hadn't said much to Danny either, for that matter.

"Why are you such an idiot?," he asked himself. He turned and finished walking back to the jeep. He was surprised to find Peter leaning against it.

"Finally. I was worried that one of the zombies had gotten you."

"What do you want?" Stiles didn't trust Peter at all, especially because of the fact that he had never figured out the strange light explosion that had turned a section of the forest into ash while simultaneously giving the pack third degree burns. He had the hunch that Peter was responsible, and more importantly, that he was plotting against Derek and the pack. Stiles was making it his business to stop him.

"You're so rude, Stiles. I don't know what my nephew ever saw in you."

"Then we're even. I don't know why he allows you to stick around. He'll catch onto whatever it is that you're up to soon enough."

"I'm not up to anything nefarious, I assure you. I'm here because I stumbled upon your vehicle and your god awful scent while on my nightly walk."

"I'm so sorry to have distracted you from your exercise routine. Why don't you go back to your grave until the Necromancer has need of you."

Peter glared at him before walking into the forest. "Poor pitiful Stiles. You just aren't the same without Scott and my nephew holding you up," he said loudly, making sure that Stiles could hear. Stiles got in the jeep and drove home while thinking of all the ways he could make Peter suffer for whatever scheme he was working on but the fact that he didn't know what it was left him on edge.

"Are those the files?"

His father was sitting at his desk looking at the detailed backgrounds of the four victims. The official word was that they were killed by an unarmed assailant. The Sheriff had done a press conference to initiate a curfew in the hope of keeping people safe but now that he knew about werewolves and the other dangerous creatures that existed he felt out of his element. Stiles suspected that he was doing his own te of version of overcompensating which meant that he was beating himself up more than usual. "This is all of our research on the victims since the first attack. Please tell me you have an idea on how to stop these things."

"Decapitation seems to unbind the magic that reanimates them. Which one was the first victim?"

Stiles took a seat in the chair and his father handed him the file on the top of the pile. "Rachel Coslow, a thirty-six year old single mother. Her daughter has been sent to live with an Aunt in Memphis."

Stiles did his best to even his breathing when he felt the vision start to come on. His senses dulled until he couldn't see, hear, or smell. Then his mind exploded as though he had been pulled into another world.

•••

He saw the victim loading groceries into the back of her SUV. When everything was inside of the vehicle she closed the hatch and pushed the cart into the corral. She headed back to her vehicle and let out a blood curdling scream when the two walking corpses approached her. The victim struggled with her keys but dropped them as their hands latched onto her neck.

•••

Stiles' eyes flew open. His father jerked and stood up as soon as he saw his son's eyes. When the blackness subsided and was replaced with the normal brown he felt his father's tension ease. "What?"

"Your eyes. They changed."

"What do you mean?," Stiles asked.

"They were completely black. They looked demonic."

"I could feel the victim's terror before they killed her. Sometimes it brings out my inner darkness but only for a moment."

"You always feel their pain?"

"It depends on the vision. Sometimes I feel their love and happiness. Other times its their worry or nervousness. Empaths don't get to choose the emotions they feel and the ones they don't."

His father nodded and sat back down. Stiles could tell by looking at his face that he was still unnerved.

"I saw them touch her and then they froze before killing her, like they were waiting for confirmation of the final act. I'm not sure what that means but it could be important." He watched his father make a note on a blank sheet of notebook paper. He handed the file back to his father.

"Who's victim number two?"

"Mark Llewellyn."

"The security guard from the bank, right?"

"Yeah. He was killed in his home but there wasn't any sign of forced entry. He was six years from retirement." Stiles took the folder in his hands and opened it to scan the information while he waited for the vision. It came just as quickly as the previous one.