This is a work of fan fiction. No profit is being made.
Stiles fidgeted in his seat. After his statement, Ms. Morrell just stared at him. He could see her searching for an answer. It must not be going well because the look on her face was becoming increasingly distressed. "I'm beginning to think that's worse than I originally thought it was."
She says something to him. he doesn't know what but feels like he should since he automatically responds in the same language. "Whoa, what was that?"
"Come on. There's someone we should talk to." He follows her to her car and climbs in silently. They drive for several minutes before he speaks again.
"Are we going to Dr. Deaton's?" he asks.
"No." She looks over at him. "I can have him meet us there, if that would make you more comfortable."
"Nah, that's fine. I wouldn't say he makes me feel comfortable."
"Oh?" Her tone is light but he can feel the weight of her intent behind the question.
"I don't really know him much beyond Scott and... and I'm not entirely sure I trust him." He expects her to respond to that but she doesn't, so he explains. "I don't think he helps as much as he could. He said once that after hiding for so long its just his nature but I don't buy it. We're stumbling around trying not to die and it feels like he doesn't help until the last possible moment."
"I agree with you, he could do more. Though, to be fair, there is a limit to how much he can do."
"What do you mean?"
"There are different kinds of magic users. Druid's don't have an internal source of power. We get power by connecting to nature and other sources. Emissaries in particular get their power from their packs."
"He was the Hale emissary, wasn't he?"
"Yes, after the fire he lost most of his power. Though, now there's no Hale alpha anymore, he's free to pledge to Scott."
"Why couldn't he do that before?"
"The vows we offer as emissaries are not like pinky promises. There's binding magic behind it. We offer loyalty in return for power."
"Is that why you kept helping Deucalion?"
She flinched. "I did what I could to help but I couldn't go against him directly," she offered, weakly.
"He's still alive," he reminds her.
"I know." She sounds so haunted by that he decides to drop the subject. He spends the rest of the trip staring out the window. She takes him out to the edge of town and pulls into a lot with a run down building. There are potted plants everywhere and he knows the place even though he's never been here, the Carter Nursery. The old man that runs the place is crazy but he sells the best produce and plants in the county, so people keep coming back. He follows her into the building even though he's nervous, he's heard a lot of stories about the guy.
A bell rings as they enter the door and immediately there's shouting from the back. A large man with crazy grey hair pushes through a cloth covered doorway waving a battered newspaper "Go away! I don't have time to deal with... Oh, Marin! Thank the spirits, its you. Look at this." He shoves the newspaper into her hands and frantically points at an article. Stiles blanches as he sees a picture of Heather. "Look at that! It's the three-fold death. Someone is sacrificing people. We have to do something!"
Stiles can't stop himself from snapping. "There was a Darach. We handled it already."
The old man turns to look at him, confused and obviously just noticing his presence before turning back to Ms. Morrel. "Why didn't you tell me you took a novitiate?" he asked, sadly.
"Dad, I would never take a novice without telling you. Stiles is a student at my school who's recently been introduce to our side of life." She takes his arm and gently guides him back to the door he entered through. "Let's go into the back and make some tea. I need to talk to you."
After a thorough explanation, Mr. Carter sighs and shakes his head. "I can't believe Alan would meddle with the nemeton like that. I know I taught that boy better."
"My dad would be dead if we hadn't done the ritual, so let's move past that and get to the fixing me part." Stiles is slightly appalled he keeps snapping at a man old enough to be his grandfather but the stress and sleep deprivation are starting to get to him.
The other man frowns. "It's not that simple. If you were a normal human, this wouldn't have happened but you have the potential for magic. The ritual created a magical bond between you and the nemeton. It's calling to you through that bond."
He really didn't like the sound of that. "Why is it calling to me?"
"Its been decades since the nemeton has had a clan to care for it. It used to be a conduit of life. It represented the natural cycle; birth, life, death. After it died, it lost its connection to the other parts of the cycle. There are not many who can bond with it in its current form. It's instinctive for living creatures to fight death. The ritual gave it enough power to revive itself and now it needs a clan."
"And here I am, potentially magical and already bonded to it."
"Exactly."