[Hmm, what is it this time?]
"Is that a…" Melissa knows she's gaping rather crudely, but at this moment she doesn't care.
"Darwin!" Stiles bolts forward, Scott scampering from his crouch and follows suit.
John and Caine look up from clearing the weeds to see Stiles clinging to the neck of a unicorn now dubbed Darwin, shrug and return to their work.
(Darwin's stall is next to Fable, and they act like grouchily attentive elderly who have too many grandchildren.)
o.o.o₰o.o.o
This time Stiles dreams about the sea.
When his eyes open, he's surrounded by water, but there is no trouble in breathing. The light is distorted by the irregular undulation created by all the living organisms around ‒ sea turtles drifting by while seahorses bob by. Fishes of multi-colors and shapes brushes by, some alone while others in shoal. Some returning home to the coral bed, some ended up in mouths with abundant of tiny sharp teeth.
A huge shadow passes by idly, and Stiles lifts his gaze to meet with a white belly of a whale. His attention is on a school of seals that he nearly misses what his periphery vision has caught.
It is the end of a tail ‒ an aesthetic mix of green and gold that shimmers under the light. The caudal fin spreads like satin, and Stiles searches through his mind library for the name of the fish that has long tail.
Only it's not a fish.
Because a fish doesn't have a torso of a person attach to it with gills flapping around the sides of their neck to filter water and oxygen.
It's a mermaid…no, merman.
And as Stiles looks closer and properly, the merman appears to be struggling, his tail trashing wildly while a wrist is jerked with force enough to dislocate it. It doesn't matter to the merman though, as long as he can be free of the chain that bound him there.
Then their eyes meet, grey and brown, and the merman open his mouth that fills with sharp teeth.
Stiles' eyes snap open and he instantly sits up, throwing Scott's arm off his chest and thus waking the boy up too. Scott whines and rubs his eyes groggily, but still he sits up and blinks blearily as Stiles dashes towards the cupboard and changes out of his night clothes. "Wha'a isit…?"
"Someone's dying," Stiles struggles to put his limbs through the right hole. "Can't explain now, hafta go!"
Scott gives him a befuddled stare before hurrying for his own clothes. They're silently scurrying out of the main entrance when they're choked by the collar.
"Where do you think you're going?" Soft growl reverberates between Scott and Stiles' ears.
"Caine!" Stiles exclaimed. "This is so not the time! We have to go!"
"Go where?"
Stiles huffs out a frustrated breath. "I don't know, but I can direct Fable there. And someone's going to be really hurt if we don't go now!"
Caine brows furrow, but he releases them at last and follows them to the stable. "You lead then, I'll be by your side."
o.o.o₰o.o.o
[Storm has the nasty habit of stirring things up]
Merfolks live as long as five hundred years, and it can get lonely in the ages between. Merfolks are romantic in heart too, and everyone has dreamt once of having a happy ending like Princess Ariel and Prince Eric.
But that doesn't mean everyone can claim their dream and make it true.
You thought you're one of the lucky ones ‒ your story begins like the one you'd listened to centuries ago and will continues centuries after ‒ when you saved a lord from drowning in the middle of the sea in a storm.
Valiant was rather shell-shocked to have seen a merfolk when he came to his conscious ‒ you in your full glory of sleek skin and tail ‒ but soon he accepted the sight before him not the joke his mind conjure and his smile captivated your heart.
You and he meet by the rock pool every day and shares stories ‒ he told you about his business and the splendor of court life, you told him about the sea under and the beauty not found on land. Sometimes he asks you about the authenticity of the human lore about your kinds. You can't confirm them, but most you debunk as mere fabricated fantasy. Valiant then kisses you and you can't think anymore.
You thought you found love. That you're in love.
That night you're by the rook pool, waiting for Valiant when a fabric trapped the pungent smell between your nose, and you can't help that with each panic inhale the smell is drawn into your body, paralyzing your limbs and finally you crash drowsily on the rocks.
You're appalled, watching Valiant's once kind smile twisted into something malicious as he reveals that his ancestors once caught a merfolk and has proven that their eyes are lucky charms that supply great fortune to the family for decades. But now the eyes are as dry as a rock ‒ as good luck seems to be slipping away from him, so he needs fresh eyes, and he can be the first in sampling and proving that merfolk's blood is the remedy to immortality.
The moment his slim fingers dig in and remove your left eye, you wished the pain had cut you off your awareness. And yet, here you lie with your voice and mobility stolen but your mind clear. And so in desperation you pray to the sea to safe you. To take you away from this wretch of a human.
The sea listens and responds with a huge wave that brings you back into its comforting embrace but Valiant barely manages to escape from (and your eye along). However your blood doesn't stop seeping out of your wound, and you're far from home and unable to call for help. Gently the waves push you back to the shore. You don't understand but you're too drained to find out either. Finally your body mercifully allows you to close your eyes.
o.o.o₰o.o.o
This time it's a hippogriff. It's as excited as a new born puppy, but can be aloof as a cat sometimes. One of the dryads mentions that this fledgling has stray away from its mother and siblings, and is still too young to be on its own.
Stiles names it Charlie. (Of course.)
Charlie chooses the stall opposite of Darwin and they bond like long lost siblings.
o.o.o₰o.o.o
You wake to the sound of barking, then something lands ruthlessly on your stomach. You sit up straight right away, and amongst vertigo and nausea and bad coordination you find a puppy in your lap, panting for your attention.
"No, Young George! Bad dog!" You turn to face Young George owner, a tan man from long hours under the sun with simple clothing.
(Unlike Valiant, who always dress to impress.)
"I'm so sorry." The man apologizes as he picks up the puppy. Young George wiggles in his arms to give him enthusiastic lickings. "Young George here is still a puppy, so he's very energetic. Did he hurt you? Aggravated you wounds?"
Your lips are apart, but your voice is stuck in your throat.
(Talking is why he's got too near to Valiant. Talking is why he's lost his eye.)
From the man's deepening crease between his brows (you refuse to see the concerns behind green eyes), you shake your head.
The man's shoulders are no longer tense. "That's great, that's great. Young George here was the one that found you, don't want him to be the one to kill you afterwards." The corner of your lips twitches, but the man doesn't notice. "You must be tired, I'll leave, and this time I'll make sure the door is lock."
You listen until the lock clicks before slumping back to the pillows. Your fingers reach up to trace the bandage swathed around your head and missing eye.
Without both of your eyes you can't transform back to your tail. You're trap on land in a mortal body.
You're tired, but it takes a longer time for you to fall back into a fitful sleep.
(Human frightens you, more than the whirlpool, more than the kraken, more than Leviathan.)
o.o.o₰o.o.o
[And leaving clutters behind]
You learn the man's name is Gabriel Oak.
You learn he's a patient man, with the way he initiates the conversation, waits for your respond and carries on even when you don't spare him a glance.
You learn he's a considerate man, with the way he never asks about your missing eye. When there's no longer necessary to bandage it, you find an eye patch the next day beside the bed. It's made of soft leather and you don't mind having it resting against your cheek.
You learn he's a loving man, with the way he trains Young George to someday take the mantle of Old George. Young George is relentless and ditzy and often shepherds the sheep in the wrong direction, but Gabriel doesn't loath him for it (but maybe a little exasperated).
You learn he's a devoted man, with the way he spends endless night during lambing season with the ewes. He sooths the yearlings and only gives a hand when the ewes are having difficulty with contractions or pushing out the lamb. He murmurs encouragement and compliment ‒ despite the ewes completely ignore him to tend to their child. (By the end of the day, he snorts when you hand him a towel and a soap bar, but he comes into the house smelling less of blood and muck and straw.)
You learn he's a decent singer (you're not biased; the female merfolks are the best). You sit on the boulder facing the sea, watching the sun sets while humming a song you'd heard a long time ago.
"Won't you sing it?"
Your shoulders jump and you face him, Gabriel lifts a placating hand and sit on the ground, overlooking the same sight. You shake your head and return to watch the sun swallowed by the sea. Silence accompanies you for a while. "My mom used to sing it, not to my dad though. It's a song passed to her from Grandmama, and from her Grandmama before her. It's an old song."
Then soft singing starts.
Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme
Remember me to one who lives there
He was once a true love of mine
Tell him to make me a cambric shirt
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme
Without no seams nor needlework
Then he'll be a true love of mine
Tell him to find me an acre of land
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme
Between salt water and the sea strands
Then he'll be a true love of mine…
(You don't know if your heart can ever learn again.)
(You learned he once proposed to a beautiful, charismatic lady, and you ignored the snarl that is tearing your insides like hunger, like thirst, like the sea too quiet and too dark.)
o.o.o₰o.o.o
You know that a human body can only contain you for so long ‒ merfolks sometimes jokes about their mortality (but jealousy is constantly there too).
Some days your body hurts so much that you can't wake from the bed. Some days the first thing you do when you open your eyes is to zip towards the sea and hold your breath inside the cocoon of vast salt water as long as you could, until your lungs burn and the inside of your head drums. Only then that you burst out of the surface, and the second sound that reach your ears are barking.
Young George is by the shore, barking excitedly and leaping on the shallow tides. You huff out a chuckle. Young George still has a lot to pick up from Old George and Gabriel. He can play later. You squeeze most of the water out of your shirt and both of you walk back home.
(Gabriel doesn't ask about those days that seemingly increasing, and you don't tell. But it's okay. It's okay.)
o.o.o₰o.o.o
You should realize Valiant is like a tenacious weed ‒ no matter how much you clear it away it always grows back, and when you ignore it, it'll turn out worst.
It's lambing season again, and Gabriel is only returning from his night with the 'ladies' (it's a jest Gabriel both appreciate and scoff at), the corner of his lips lifted at the sight of you waiting at the door with his towel and soap. You shrug as his eyes meet yours, and his lips are apart for words to leap out‒
The sound of a released shot nearly stop your heart, and Gabriel is stunned for a heartbeat before he snaps towards the source ‒ there, by the edge of the fence stands Valiant, his grin still wickedly crooked like the day you last saw him.
"And here I thought you're dead, my dear." Your body shudders at the endearment and you wish nothing more than to claw out of that word. Valiant lets his shotgun rest by his side as he ambles forward. "But a birdie told me that a sheepherder recently attains a gorgeous young man whose feature is only marred by his lost eye. So here I am, looking for you; and here you are, waiting for me." He halts in his tracks the moment Gabriel comes and stands before you, his body a shield against the rest of the world.
"Please leave, you're not welcome here."
"Now, now sheepherder, you don't know what you're dealing with."
"I know enough."
Instead of getting discourage or enrage, Valiant merely smile indulgingly. "We can share the benefits, you know. You can have the other eye, but I must have all his blood if you don't mind."
"WHAT‒"
"Oh, you don't know yet?" Valiant continues nonchalantly while you restrain Gabriel from charging towards a guy with a deadly weapon in his hand. "A merfolk eyes are good luck charms ‒ very effective ‒ but their blood remains a rumor for immortality, so I'll be the first to take a sip to prove its worth."
"You're a sick bastard." Gabriel hisses, still trying to pry your hands away.
"Oh well, more for me then." Valiant cocks up his shotgun and aims at Gabriel (Nonononono‒) when something swoops down from above and crashes into him, his shotgun thrown out of his hand.
o.o.o₰o.o.o
[Along with the reminder that hindsight is a bitch]
Stiles is staring at the drenched man in front of the beauty parlor until someone's hands cover his shoulder.
"You should stop staring, child. Or he'll follow you home." A woman's voice whispers into his ear, so he turns around to meet her gaze.
"I don't think so, since he won't leave her." The woman's eyes are as big as saucer. "He just wants to apologize. He doesn't mean to hurt her."
The woman stares at him a while longer before cracking a smile. "Hi, I'm Melinda."
"I'm Stiles."
"Stiles, do you know what he is?"
"No. But I know he's not supposed to be here, or he'll turn into a shadow." He takes a second glance at the man, but he's no longer there.
Melinda is quiet for a moment before she asks. "Stiles, do you like tea?"
Inside her shop of 'Same As It Never Was Antiques' there's a tea room sequestered behind a curtain of stringed-beads. She prepares a pot of tea and by the time they finish most of it, Melinda has explained about earthbound spirits and why they should cross over to the other side soon after death.
"I can sense you have magic, and you draw them from the earth." Melinda stares somberly at her cup. "But for those that don't have any other medium to stay on the plane of living, magic is poisonous to them and taints them to dark shadows the longer they remain."
Stiles nods.
(He remembers the dark cloud of mist that entered his father, the sight of his golden feathers blackened from rot.)
Melinda watches him, and then smiles softly. "Leave these spirits to me Stiles. Magic is your gift, and I long accepted helping them to the light as mine. Besides, this town can be a little boring, no?"
The next time he visits Melinda, he's introduced to her husband, Jim. He's the one that mends cracks and fixes loosen parts of the antiques they housed. He's a caring man, and he would be a great help to his wife if he could see them too.
(The story is about a man that drowns a day before his marriage because he accidentally dropped the ring into the river. He was saved, but the lack of air caused him to be in a coma. The story is about a woman that sees ghost, and helps guide the man's spirit back to his body, then he wakes back up and his marriage is saved.)
o.o.o₰o.o.o
"Caine!" Stiles points at the cottage ahead of them. "You have to go there first, something's going to happen!"
It was then that the shot cuts through the silent air. Caine takes a glimpse at the concern on Stiles' pale face and thrust harder, leaving the boys and Fable far behind but just in time to stop a second shot. His periphery caught the glint of metal and springs away before the dagger slashes through him.
"Well, this is a night for crowds, I supposed." The man staggers back to his feet, and Caine is instantly repulsed by the glint in his eyes and the smirk he wears. It's the mask of a lawbreaker, one that is single-minded and doesn't care if he hurts the rest of the world to obtain his goal. "Come to have a share?"
"A share in apprehending you? Yes."
The smirk doesn't falter. Then it does when a punch lands on him. The force is enough to break a couple of teeth or break the jaw.
"Gabriel!" Another person rushes to Gabriel's side and grasp his skinned knuckle in his hand, his eyes cloud with worries.
Noting their safety, Caine eyes search for Fable amongst the clouds. When he spots her, only then his shoulders release the tensed muscles. He raises his arm to signal them, but instead a familiar gleam sparks at the corner of his eyes. The pair too is unaware of the impending danger. "Shit‒"
But he is too late in stepping in when the blade slides into flesh of the younger man that was meant for Gabriel. There is a heartbeat of silence then Gabriel sinks to the ground with him. "DANNY!"
"Get away from him, you lowly mongrel!" The man again raises the dagger, and before Caine can stop him, the sky groans and a flash of light crackles and strikes the man to the ground, the smell of burnt skin permeates the air.
"Caine!" Stiles bellows as Fable lands with a trot to his side. He then takes a glimpse at the sight before him and is on the ground the next second, sprinting towards the pair. Scott stumbles to dismount from Fable, but soon he and Caine are by Stiles' side, watching as Gabriel tries to staunch the blood flow with his jacket.
"Danny, you'll be alright. You hear me? You survived worst before, so you'll be all right this time." Gabriel's voice breaks a little at the end. He snaps his attention at Stiles' when the boy places his hand above his bloody ones.
"Gabriel, I need to secure his soul to this body. You have to let me, or he won't survive."
Gabriel doesn't understand a word the boy said (his mind a tempest, he can't think) but he must have let go for the boy to replace his smaller hands over Danny's wound, silver tendrils leak out from his palm and seep into the wound. "What‒"
"Don't worry," Scott pipes up. "Stiles is saving him. He'll be okay."
"Not yet, Scotty." Stiles says. "Go and search in Valiant's pocket, I'm sure Danny's eye is in there. I can put it back, but he can't survive a mortal injury. We need Darwin's help."
Stiles doesn't see who hands him the eyeball, or remove the eye patch. The silver tendrils of his magic knit around the hollow eye and pull deftly, the strings sew taut the spaces in between. He can't do much about the bleeding wound. His magic doesn't close wound, but unicorn's tears do.
"Caine, fly as fast as you can. Darwin's tear can heal this." Caine nods and reaches forward to pick Danny up, only to have his arm wrapped in Gabriel's fingers.
"Wait, how can I trust you?" He takes turn at looking at Caine, Stiles and Scott. "How can I trust you not to hurt him?"
Caine tries to tug his arm out of the grasp, but Gabriel doesn't relent easily. Caine scowls. "You can't. You just have to."
"You‒"
"Guys!" Stiles roars. "We don't have time! Argue now and Danny dies, or save Danny and sort this out later!" His attention flips to Gabriel. "Take Fable and follow Caine. She can come back for us later."
"What? No!" Caine sputters.
"Yes!" Stiles snaps back. "Now go! GO!"
Stiles and Scott watch as Caine and Fable take off to the sky and soon disappear behind the clouds. Then Scott turns to Stiles. "Mom and John will be in for a big surprise."
Stiles shrugs. "I'm sure Caine will explain to them. Dad's pretty used to the happenings around me, though I'm not sure he likes them. Oh well," Stiles grabs Scott's hand. "Let go free Old George and Young George. I'm sure they're in hysterics by now."
"Okay."
In the background light is but a blip in the horizon.
o.o.o₰o.o.o
[But no storm is forever]
It's the familiar yet plain water that filters through his gills that wakes him up. Danny recognizes the surroundings of a pond and his tail. He gently flips them and breaks to the surface.
"Hi," The voice of a boy draws his attention to the bank. "I'm Stiles." Danny doesn't offer his name in return, but Stiles doesn't look offended. Instead, he adds, "Gabriel wants us to tell you that since there are ewes that are still in labors, he can't leave them alone for too long. He said you'd understand. But Fable's with him, so he can come by anytime."
The mere mention of Gabriel is enough for the rock inside him to evaporate. "T-" His voice cracks. He harrumphs and tries again. "Thanks." Then he remembers the stab on his torso and his hand caresses the flawless skin on reflex. Merfolk dies simply from mortal wound. "How-?"
This time a unicorn joins them. Danny recedes minutely in surprise. It's his first time meeting another creature with magic born within them. Stiles doesn't notice the flabbergasted look as his hand reach up and pats the unicorn by the cheek. "Tear of a unicorn can heal any fatal injuries. Dad told me it's weird watching Darwin cry through."
Darwin comes close enough for Danny to just merely lift an elbow and brush a hand on the nose. "Thank you." Darwin accepts the gratitude with a snort and saunters off. Danny turns with words on his tongue when he notices the cut on the boy's palm and gestures it. "And I thought you said Darwin can heal any injuries?"
Stiles' nose scrunches. "I don't need Darwin to cry over something this small. It'll heal soon." Then he mutters under his breath (but Danny still caught the entire sentence). "And I may be an empathetic crier."
The corner of Danny's lips slant into a smile as he swims nest to Stiles. "Here, maybe I can help with this." His fingers are gentle on the cut, and when water washes over and ebbs away, a pink scar is left in its wake.
"Cool," Stiles grins. There is no other intention veiled behind it but awe, so Danny doesn't mind giving this second human a more genuine smile.
They stay sun-bathing side by side, content in just basking under the warmth of the sun, until Scott brings them lunch.
o.o.o₰o.o.o
"I wonder if they'll come to visit sometimes." John notes as he takes a seat beside his son at the window ledge overlooking the pond, currently with ripples marring the surface.
A season has passed since Gabriel and Danny return home to their dogs and sheep and the sea. It had been an eventful meeting (though he expects nothing less whenever Stiles is involved) to save a young man that turns out to be a merfolk.
(He nearly splutters in rage when he wakes up to find Caine didn't come back with his sons, but simmers out after finding out about Danny and Gabriel. Especially about Danny. He still grounds Stiles and Scott on their reckless behavior and they were to do any petty chores around the station for a month.)
(Valiant is not under the Sheriff's jurisdiction, but he's friends with Geoff. And he's as civic-minded as the rest of the guards.)
Like Merlin and Arthur, Danny and Gabriel stayed long enough to sort out any confusion or complication, especially regarding Danny's frail trust towards human and their relationship. Scott sobs the day they leave.
"Maybe. Danny did promise to help Scott control his lightning, since merfolks and selquh are cousins or something." Stile replies vaguely. Something ticks at the back of John's mind. Should he ignore it?
He lifts his gaze away from the vapor on the glass from his son's exhales when he spots something ahead and furrows his brows. He shouldn't ignore it next time.
"Stiles, is that white splotching a flock of sheep?"
"Young George!" Stiles leaps from to his feet. John sighs and barely manages to get hold of the collar to stop his son from dashing into the rain.
("You all right there, Danny?"
The young man shrugs. Even the fire can't light up his pale features, which ironically is tan evenly under daily sunlight. "I'm not sure if I'll ever be, John."
John stares for a moment, and then ruffles the young man hair. He smiles at the befuddled look.
"One thing I know about everyone that Stiles meet? That it takes time, and it may take a life time, but it'll be okay later.")
It'll be okay. When they're prepared to allow it to be.
(Later Old George takes his last breath when the robin first chirps. Later they bury the old friend under the lemon tree where he usually takes his naps.)
o.o.o₰o.o.o
[And not all broken things can't be fix]
This time Stiles dreams about fire.
His skin does not melt from the rampant flame around him, but he knows something else will, like bone. Like family. Like heart.
Stiles is out of the main door the next second, a woozy Danny with him and is about to jump on Charlie when strong arms wrap under his armpits and into equally firm chest.
"Oh no, you're not doing this stunt again, kiddo." John groused.
"Daaad," Stiles wails with flailing arms while Danny pets a baffled Charlie. "I'm catching up to your height now…"
"Doesn't mean you're far from acting like a kid!" John hisses. "Now tell me where the both of you are going or I'll ground you until the next century."
"Just me?!" John gives him his best paternal glare. "Okay, okay!" Stiles staggers to solid ground and faces his father. "A family is about to die in a fire. I'm not sure where though."
John palms his face and rubs it. Then he inhales deeply and says, "Okay. I'll go with you."
"What? But Dad‒"
"No 'buts'. I come along, or we don't go at all." John doesn't wait for his son's reply and climb onto Charlie anyway. Stiles snorts and situates in between a chuckling Danny.
"And you wondered where I get all these bad habits from," Stiles mumbles (and yelps when his thigh got pinched) before commanding in a louder tone. "Charlie, go north-east! That means that way!"
o.o.o₰o.o.o
Large ominous dark smoke that can see from afar is a worrying sight indeed.
John knows that they have crossed over the border of the forest and into the land free of human but not civilization. It's a land where the borders are not drawn on maps, but by age-old scent and instinct. The creatures here respect all boundaries (or fear war upon them if they violated it) and lived side-by-side for centuries in the past and centuries to come. Human has no business here, and the children are often told stories before their sleep never to enter beyond this land or they'll be lost forever.
"Stiles, let me down here." Danny points to the river. "I can direct the water to shower on the fire."
After they leave Danny by the river bank, Charlie flies them to the burning camp.
"Why isn't there anyone running away or putting out the fire?" Stiles wonders. Soon John discovers the reason when they're at the edge of the camp.
"This is mountain ash." John's fingers hover next to the line of ash, the tips pressing into an invisible wall. "It's used against magical creatures. A complete circle can trap them in or shield them out. With this, Danny can't douse the fire, and they won't be able to escape in time."
Stiles ponders for a moment before asking, "Dad, what is mountain ash made of?"
"It's the remains of the rowan tree, why?"
"Rowan tree is still a tree that grows from the earth, and the earth's magic is a part of me, that means I can try to break the circle."
John is skeptical, but keeps a close watch as his son's hand a hairbreadth away from the ash, his brows crinkle with concentration. It was with a flick of his wrist that a section of the line scatters, and the barrier is gone.
"Stay close, son." John warns and Stiles nods before both father and son are in separate path to search for any surviving inhabitants.
(A tale as old as song, of a beauty and a beast.)
Stiles' feet lead him to one of the tents, simple and practical. Inside he finds the body of a human but with a different face mask. With thick sideburns and ridged forehead (hey, where did the eyebrows go?) and sharp canines.
Stiles has a moment of relating this person to a wolf.
(Love is unexpected, as they find and sow until the love grows so strong...)
His feet take him forward step by step, until his knees touch the side of his torso. Both hands gently cups the person's cheeks and turn for their lips to meet.
(That a kiss from beauty brings the beast back from death's door.)
When Stiles pulls away, his face reflects in a pair of golden eyes. The mask of the wolf is gone, replaced with a human one. His eyes a kaleidoscope of blue, green and grey and very, very confused.
"What‒"
"We don't have time," Stiles tries to stand up, but his wrist is in the person's tight clutch. "Come on dude, there's a fire out there and we need to save everyone else." He hears the mutter of 'don't call me dude' and ignores it to tug his wrist free. "Unless you have a way to wake everyone up at a call, we don't have time to waste!"
Stiles stumbles when the person arises with the grace Stiles chooses to be envied of another time, because his wrist is still trapped! "Hey, let go already!"
Ignoring Stiles, the person flips away the tent flap and comes to a halt just outside of it. Then he tilts his chin to the sky and howls.
(The curse is removed from the other companions too, of course.)
o.o.o₰o.o.o
At first you had thought that the weres all fallen due to smoke inhalation, but their even breathing reveals that they are merely asleep. No matter how hard you try to shake them or slap them, their eyes remain close, thus you suspect the magic trance that keeps them all pliant in the fire.
You try on another were when the crunch of a twig snatches your attention towards the person that strolls into plain sight. And from the weapons in her hands and waist (and hidden from sight) you deduce her to be a hunter. And you're often dead-on.
"Why do you want to save these beasts?" She asks casually, as if you're having a conversation about the sky or the sea. "They aren't any of your concerns, are they Sheriff?"
"Are you the one that set the fire? With a witch or a wizard as an accomplice to keep them asleep?"
"I'm offering them a mercy, Sheriff." Her lips tilt higher. "I rather the land filled with them squealing and wailing. Much more melodious, don't you think?"
You clench your jaw tight. "And I thought Argents go by a code, 'We harm those that harm Us'? Are you forgetting it accidentally, or purposely violating it?"
She angles her head in bemusement. "And why wait until these wild beasts attack us? We should eliminate them first, to be safe rather than to be sorry."
"Werewolves aren't mindless beast! They can control themselves during the full moon and they never migrate near human establishment before. You are starting an unfounded war with them! The other packs will retaliate and the rest of the humans will suffer!"
"Or they will thank us for ridding them of dangers!" The Argent screams, her composed mask finally cracks. She then raises her shotgun (you curse inwardly for leaving yours at home) and aims at your forehead. "I supposed birds will always fly in a flock, despite their different beaks."
A howl breaks the silent air and rides throughout the camp. In a snap the were beside you wakes and tosses the Argent to the side, her back hitting a tree with an ugly snap. Though the were isn't satisfy with the easy victory and wraps his clawed fingers around her neck, the intention of shattering it loud in his guttural growl.
You moves without another thought (fortunately Stiles isn't here to see and berates you for it) and the were's thick wrist is in your hold. The growling stops and you're the center attention of a livid wolf.
"She's a human. Let the human law judge her and dictate her and her partners' punishment. I'm the Sheriff, I can assure you she won't get away. But you need to help everyone now. The fire's spreading, and I'm not sure if everyone else wakes up in time."
The hard features of the were smooth out to a human face that is currently supporting a grin, and then the man's face is merely inches away from yours, his whisper a hot breath on your cheeks. "I'll listen this time, Sheriff." Then he releases the Argent and sprints to the other tents.
o.o.o₰o.o.o
[Safe heaven can be rebuilt]
Scott recently has a new awakening to the non-platonic relationship that happens between two people.
Specifically the relationship between his mother and the new physician.
So the air is a bit awkward at dinner time with a quiet Scott and Melissa constantly the center of his unwavering stare.
"Scott, what is it?" Caine asks tentatively. He sees that Stiles and Scott whisper furiously before Stiles jabs him with an elbow and Scott turns back to face Melissa.
"Mom," Scott begins gravely. "Am I having a new dad?"
Melissa chokes on her soup. Gabriel, bless him, hands her a napkin before the soup could drip on her dress. When her throat is finally cleared, she sputters. "What, Scott? Who gave you that idea? Stiles?" She turns a judging brow at the aforementioned boy, who raises his hand in a placating manner.
"Not Stiles." Scott frowns deeper. "I saw‒Whenever I'm there helping around, I saw how close you are to Owen. And the other aids are whispering about how he's affectionate to you and how he cares for me. They say that the only way the both of you will go hand in hand is towards marriage."
Melissa tips her head to the ceiling while cursing inwardly about gossiping aids.
Danny's the one that asks. "Do you mind then, if Melissa marries Hunt?"
Scott contemplates for a moment, then reply a tad softly. "I mean ‒ if mom's happy with him, then I guess I don't? It's just…I've always seen John as my dad anyway, so…"
"Scott," The boy lifts his gaze to John, who's smiling with the paternal tenderness he shows without doubt to Scott and Stiles. "I'm glad I can be your father in every way that matters. But you know I can't marry Melissa, right? We're just…" He looks at Melissa, both parents searching for the right word.
"They understand each other too much, and that means nothing else can grow between them anymore." Gabriel finishes for them, and nods at their appreciative grins.
Melissa sighs. "Scott, honey, I don't know how much you'd seen or heard, but know this: Owen and I are just friends now. Yes, he treats me well and yes, we may develop into something more. But for now we remain as friends. So stop fretting, okay?"
It's another moment later that Scott nods in acceptance. "But if he hurts you, I'll hurt him back." And raises his fork menacingly.
Melissa snorts and reaches forward to ruffle her son's hair. Dinner resumes as normal, only this time with Stiles and Scott whispering fervently about the variety of pranks and blackmails. It's when 'castration' reaches the adults' ears that John swats them both on the head.
o.o.o₰o.o.o
Old and young shifters pass by Stiles in a flurry, and his heart beats in relief as he watches them escaping out of the line of mountain ash. If only his fingers aren't tangled with another, he might help the others sooner. Stiles sighs and tries to tug fruitlessly again.
"Dude, can you let go now?"
"Don't call me 'dude'." The shifter growls.
"Sourwolf?" The growls vibrate to the tip of his hand. "Fine, what can I call you then?"
The growling halts as the shifter considers the question while directing the others out of the camp. Before he can reply a droplet crashes on his eyelashes and the shifter lift his gaze to the sky when rain pours over them.
"Danny!" Stiles exclaims, delighted in catching the sight of a Charlie and the merfolk. He waves to seize their attention and ignores the tightening grasp and the returning growls.
"Stiles!" Charlie swoops down to the boy's side. Danny extends his hand. "John wants us to return home first and inform the rest of the guards to come here and arrest a couple of hunters." When Stiles hesitates he adds. "He asked to send Fable to fetch him back later."
"Okay, I guess…" Right, his hand is in hostage. "Sourwolf…"
Charlie notices the joint hands and nips on the shifter's arm with its sharp beak, who promptly lets go with a snarl and lengthens his claws. Before he can swipe them at the insolent bird, Stiles steps in between, his voice firm. "No, Sourwolf."
The shifter retreats his claw, a whine low in his throat.
His heart beats out of line at the whine, so Stiles reaches forward and pecks the shifter on his cheek and meets those hazel eyes. "I have to go now, and you have to make sure all your family is saved. My dad will be here for a while though, so help me take care of him okay?" The shifter nods reluctantly, and Stiles presses a grin on his lips. "You can tell me your name next time."
o.o.o₰o.o.o
Later, when John finally comes back for dinner, Stiles is instantly on his heels.
"Can't a father have his bath and dinner and a good rest first?" John whines but relays the news nonetheless.
He tells them over hot stew that the Hale pack may be down by two hundred, but they bounce back up stronger and united than before. Time is allotted between cleaning up the remains of the fire and mourning for the dead and assisting with the investigation. The Argent family and acquaintances are under investigation now, and anyone who's involved with the fire will be prosecuted, human or otherwise.
"And you can't go back there." John warns as he slides under the bed cover. "Or you'll be the next one I throw into prison instead."
"That's cruel, dad." Stiles cringes at the blank stare directed at him (it's not blank at all ‒ that's just camouflage). "I won't dad, I promise. I'm only there to help save them, nothing else, nothing more."
"That better be it." John pats him on the shoulder then shoos him away. "Good night, kid." And snorts into his pillow when the muttering of 'not a kid anymore' enters his ears.
o.o.o₰o.o.o
[Piece by piece]
Stiles is plucking the harvest at the vegetable patch when suddenly Caine growls beside him. It's the kind of throaty cadence he used when he's mostly sure the stranger appearing before them is a threat. "What is it?" Stiles cranes over his shoulder to take a glimpse and nearly drops the basket of tomatoes and yams at the sight of a black wolf.
Tail wagging, and a bloody deer's neck between its jaw. The moment it notices Caine though, the wolf drops the deer and growls back.
Caine's growl chokes off the next second, and Stiles faces with an accusatory glare. "Did this happen that time?"
"Which time? Why do you assume I did anything anytime?"
Caine sighs, take a look at the still growling wolf then back at Stiles. "Do you know anything about the habits of wolf?"
"I think I'd read a few that's in the library, so…not really?"
"Do you know that a wolf starts courting by hunting and providing food ‒ to show that they're capable to take care of their intended and upcoming family?"
Stiles' jaw drop. Caine helpfully picks it up and shut it, only to watch it drop again. Barking and growling alternated in the background.
Finally, "Wait, whaa-WHAT‒hunting? Providing? INTENDED?"
Caine simply gesture at the deer and the wolf who's currently scrutinizing them. The tail returns to wag when Stiles' attention returns to it.
"I never meet this wolf before, Caine." Stiles tries again. "You'd would have noticed it too if it came too close to the house."
Caine shakes his head. "It's not a pure wolf, Stiles. It's a shifter."
Oh, that makes so much more sense. "Oh."
Caine nods and takes over the basket. "You can accept or reject the gift, Stiles." Then he takes another glance at the deer. "I'm not sure we'll be able to finish it before it rots though."
Yeah, it'll be punishing rather than rewarding for seven people to finish the deer within days. "I can make venison pie for the others?" He's sure they'll appreciate the food.
"Good idea. Now go."
Stiles kneels before the wolf and a hand hovers near its muzzle. When the wolf presses into his palm, both of Stiles' hands sinks into dark fur. "Hey, Sourwolf. It's been a while." The wolf peels back its lips and bares all sharp teeth at him; Stiles' only reaction is to laugh. "Hey, don't blame me! I still don't know your name."
The wolf reaches over Stiles' shoulder to yip and bark and growl. And then Caine's voice floats over with a lilt of humor. "He says you can call him Derek. No more 'Sourwolf'."
"Derek," The wolf barks in delight. "Mine's Stiles, so now we're even. And I accept your gift, thank you. It's a big deer ‒ you must be a great hunter." The wolf's practically vibrates with ecstasy as he licks Stiles. Laughter grows along with the affection given.
(The venison pie is how he meets Nasir with his pygmy goats and his mate, a centaur by the name of Agron. He meets with the rest of the centaurs and their leader, Spartacus. Later Stiles would come back to visit with Derek, and the centaurs are fascinated by his prophetic dreams, while they teach him about divination shown by the arrangement of stars.)
(Later, he's told about a story of an ailing human saving a string of centaurs under slavery and gifting them with the first fresh air of freedom. Of how a human becomes a part of the family and a centaur learning that love is more than just a word.)
o.o.o₰o.o.o
Your brother persistently reminds you that the day of your birth is the day of the downfall of the family. A noble family with its name tarnished like the dirt beneath sandals. You're not born into riches and fortunes and privileges, but you know your brother yearns for it, like a moth to fire.
You came to know Alex one day, when you help him up from his fall, and then he introduces you to Scott.
And it's like having all the drapes torn down to let sunlight into the room.
He has a kind smile you'd never seen with the boys in your circle. He often invites you to have dinner with his family (not by blood, but definitely more genuine). His family welcomes you as one of them, and you nearly sob at the taste of warm, home-cooked meal.
Sometimes you're at the manor the whole day, and your hands are dirty from digging up carrots or sweaty from cleaning the stalls high and low. Sometimes you join Young George with his shepherding duties, and guide astray lamb back to its mother. Sometimes you do nothing and nap under the apple tree with a book or two by your side until Scott wakes you up for tea. Sometimes he sits with you and talks about Stiles, about his mom, about his family.
(You try not to feel guilty as these moments are the only reprieve from your brother, and you're grateful for them.)
The family gathers at the lake sometimes, and you watch, fascinated, as they change out of their human skin. Sometimes they have friends with them, and sometimes they have wolves or centaurs or fairies or nymphs joining in the fun.
(Laura declares that you're her friend, and she taught you about courage and confidence and no one can disparage you even with your consent.
"Just because they refuse to see your worth doesn't mean it isn't in there." Laura grins as she pokes your chest, right above your heart. "This here means you're still alive, still living. Existing with colors and personas. And no one can deny you that.")
In autumn the land is a sea of red and yellow. The leaves are collected into a big mound and you lay comfortably on it, watching as the animals around preparing for winter.
The harvested pumpkins are hollowed and carved ‒ Stiles reads that somewhere else in this world the people do so for a celebration ‒ and candles are placed inside. It's a rather eerie and funny sight, with some pumpkins smirking and some frowning and all placed around the garden. There is a feast with laughter and cheers, then it mostly turns to shrieking when the pumpkins start floating around and bumping into someone's shoulder.
You can't remember if you'd ever laughed that hard.
Or feel the ease in your bones and heart as Fable soars through the clouds and you screaming to your heart contents.
(You can't remember if you'd ever met someone as beautiful as Scott. But you know there's no need to rush. There is a lifetime to remember after all.)
o.o.o₰o.o.o
The next wolf that comes is lighter in color, with a guinea fowl in its jaw. Caine doesn't growl for long either this time. Stiles flails his hand before the man can speak. "It's not my fault this time."
Caine rolls his eyes in exasperation, and the wolf snorts before placing the fowl on ground and shifts back to human form. Bones and muscles breaking and sliding with fur retreating back to pink skin. Skin that is bare for all to see.
Stiles is justifiably scarred and ducks behind Caine's wing. He cannot be judged for the high pitch of his voice either. "You creep!"
The man sighs. "And I thought we can have a great start for your father's sake."
Still using the wing as his shield, Stiles demands, "What do you want from my dad?"
The werewolf doesn't answer. Stiles is about to ask again when Caine breaks the silence with a simple "John." Stiles instantly pops up from behind of the wing and greet his father who is just returning home from work.
"Dad, this creep is here to see you."
John halts with startled blinks before turning to his left, takes in the sight and sighs. "Peter, you can't run around human civilization without proper clothing."
"But John, I'm not running around."
"No nakedness around any human, or I'll arrest you for public indecency."
Peter's smirk stretches broader. "Does that mean I can spend more time with you?"
"That means I have every reason to ignore you."
Stiles boggles at the scene before him, and his feet walk on reflex as Caine pushes him into the manor. He blinks and turns to look at Caine. "Did that just happened?"
Caine nods. "We can start up the stove."
o.o.o₰o.o.o
The next time another wolf comes, and with a hare between its teeth it jumps and lands on Caine and sits on him proudly.
("She's Laura." Derek tells Stiles later when they are lounging comfortably by the window ledge ‒ Stiles with a book in hand and Derek curling in his lap.
"Your twin, right?" David, Laura, Janice and Cora. Derek has a big family and a larger pack.
Derek nods. Thinks for a while and adds. "She's the next alpha after Mama, so she can be demanding at times."
Stiles nods and massages Derek's scalp, and the werewolf turns putty. "I'm sure she's all 'I'm the Alpha, my orders are your command!', but Caine isn't a pushover too. He's a force I'm sure Laura will see as an equal."
Derek chuffs. Stiles grins along.
"So guess what happens next to Captain Ahab?")
o.o.o₰o.o.o
Some nights Stiles wakes up to a body of fur crawling under the quilt.
(Sometimes Derek still dreams about the fire ‒ about losing his pack, his family. Sometimes he dreams that Stiles dashes into the fire and never comes back.)
Stiles wraps and arm around the wolf and sooths him back to dream in the only way he knows.
Never knew I could feel like this
Like I've never seen the sky before
Want to vanish inside your kiss
Seasons may change
Winter to spring
But I love you
Until the end of time
Come what may
Come what may
I will love you
Until my dying day...
(Stiles' window is always open.)
o.o.o₰o.o.o
The wolves migrate, and Stiles doesn't see them for three seasons long. Then they're back and Stiles visits them, giving Talia a proper greeting before he's accosted by the pups. They play with the rest of the pack in the mud the whole day until Derek comes to pick him up like a sack and heads towards the nearest stream.
Derek patiently cleans Stiles, and they stay inside the tent for days.
(Since days later Peter leaps through the flap and tackles Derek while a cackling Cora orders Stiles to go home ‒ John misses his son and Caine and Scott miss their brother. That night a wolf climbs through the window and no one mentions it in the morning when Derek sits beside Stiles at breakfast.)
o.o.o₰o.o.o
[As we look up to the clear sky, and dream about the future]
Like many nights before, both Stiles and Scott curls around each other under the blanket with books a fortress around them and a ball of light drifts above them from side to side.
Then Scott begins.
"Stiles, is Derek treating you well?"
Stiles turns and bumps his chin on Scott's temple. The boy has been using his shoulder as a pillow for the past hour or so. "He is. Why?"
"Will you end up like Mom and Owen?"
Stiles' shrug doesn't lose Scott's head. "I don't know, maybe. I mean, we're comfortable with whatever we're having now, but Derek still has a pack to go back to, and my home is here." When the boy is quiet for too long, Stiles picks another conversation. "So, I heard Alex introduced you to a friend of his…"
Scott's head bounces up so fast Stiles worries that he'll snap it off. But the head is pretty much intact with a blush on display. "When did he tell you? What did he tell you?"
"When I was purchasing buns from Brad. Just that his friend needs a friend, and you're good at taking care of your friend, so he wants the both of you to meet. Then you did, and get on like a house on fire instantly."
Scott slumps back on top of him, and if the boy's mouth isn't beside his ear, Stiles probably won't be able to comprehend a word he mumbled.
"She's really shy, and sweet and generally nice. Her brother's a mean bitter jerk though. He belittles her in public even when she has done nothing wrong. And because of that, she looks down even upon herself. I just‒I want her to know that she's beautiful, no matter her appearances. That she's much more worthy that what her brother makes her see, makes her feel."
"Well," Stiles rest his cheek on dark locks. "Why don't you bring her here for dinner someday? I'm sure she'll be happy to meet the rest of your family."
(Later Daenerys is a common guest at dinner. True to Alex's words, Scott is a good influence on her ‒ as well as Melissa and especially Laura ‒ that she no longer walks with her head held down. She takes to him, like fish takes to water. Scott nearly faints with joy when she first laughs at his joke.)
o.o.o₰o.o.o
Stiles bolts up to his feet suddenly and sprints towards the fence. Derek tags along his side,as always.
"Merlin! Arthur!" Stiles leaps and waves at the riders on horsebacks, who dismount and greet him with hugs.
"It's been a while Stiles." Merlin ruffles his hair. "And I see you and your father have been busy too." He gestures at the vegetable patch and the extra fruit trees and especially at the crowd by the side of the lake. "It's like a bouquet potpourri here."
"Are those‒" Arthur gasps and points at the unicorn and the hippogriff lazing by the side.
"They are Darwin and Charlie. Don't hurt them. They won't harm others."
Arthur is quiet for a moment before he meets Merlin's gaze and shakes his head. "No. Never again."
"Come on then, I'm sure Dad misses you too. And you have to tell us about your travels, I'm sure it's exciting." Stiles tugs their wrists. "I can introduce everyone too!" He then promptly releases them to hook his hand around another's arm. "But first, this is Derek!"