Everything is changing
And there is nothing I can do
The world is turning pages
And I'm just sitting here
Apocalypse Dreams - Tame Impala
Derek had been staying with Stiles a little over a week now. It was sort of odd really; Derek seemed to like to do everything for Stiles… like a nanny or a mom even.
He cleaned often, cooked, took Shep out for walks when Stiles was at work, and pretty much did everything Stiles hated doing.
They didn't really talk a lot and Stiles didn't know whether he should be thankful for that or not. He also didn't know whether or not to be thankful that Derek never asked him about the pack either.
So Stiles was at work, re-organizing the same bookshelf for the thousandth time.
Business was oddly slow today so Stiles found himself bored out of his friggin' mind, plus, Erin was sick today so there was nobody to talk to.
"Still messing with those bookshelves, I see." Came a voice behind him.
Stiles jumped in surprise and turned around to see a familiar face. "Casey," he breathed. "You scared the shit out of me."
"Sorry, just thought you could use some company."
Casey was his boss's younger brother, he came around the shop every once and a while.
He was a rather ordinary looking man; average height and build, wore the same grey shirt, dark denim jeans, and scuffed cowboy boots pretty much every time Stiles saw him, and had dark black hair that was cropped close to his skull, the only thing that really stood out about him were his eyes, that were so pale you couldn't really tell if they had any color to them at all.
Casey didn't start coming around until last week, pretty much around the same time Derek came back.
He mostly came around when his brother wasn't here to run the shop, today was apparently one of those days.
Casey kept to himself most of the time but recently he and Stiles had started somewhat of an acquaintanceship.
"What are you doing out of your office… thing?" Stiles asked.
"You're saying it like it's some sort of a prison."
Stiles shrugged. "Might as well be, you rarely ever leave the damn thing."
"That's because I'm always busy."
"And you're not busy now?"
"No. Not at the moment."
"What kind of work do you do down there anyway?"
"Nothing of your concern; before I forget, my brother has new books in stock; he wants you to get them."
"Ughhhh, why do I always have to get the books?" Stiles complained as he began to walk away.
"Oh and he wants you to put them on that empty bookshelf towards the back of the shop, and put them in order too, it's a series!" Casey called.
"UGHHHHHHH." Stiles called back.
The stock room (which was actually a cellar in the shop) was actually Stiles' favorite place in the entire bookshop. It was dirty, dusty, slightly cramped, and honestly just a terrible place to be in but Stiles loved it anyway.
Stiles sighed and searched the tables; he knew every book in the store so there was no need to be told which books were new.
Stiles spotted a box filled with Cassandra Clare books and walked over to grab it.
"We seriously haven't had any Cassandra Clare books around? Christ, even my friggin' grocery store sells these things."
With the box in hand Stiles made his way up the cellar stairs, half way up Stiles heard a loud crashing noise, at first he didn't think much of it, until he heard it again, this time louder.
Stiles dropped the box of books, grabbed the stair rail and pulled himself up.
Opening up the cellar door he popped his head out and looked around.
And in that moment he knew that his life would never be the same.
Casey stood in the middle of the bookshop, facing an odd man.
Standing across from Casey was a tall slender man in a long trench coat and suit. The man was actually quite young, probably not a lot older than himself.
Stiles realized quickly that they weren't speaking… yet something was going on between them.
Both men were standing still, their arms close to their bodies, elbows tucked in, open palms turned upward.
Casey stood in the center of the shop, while the younger man stood close to the door, three black coated companions around him.
Tendrils and wisps of green mist gathered in Casey's palms, curling in ornate patterns, drifting to the floor, where they curled and writhed like snakes.
Deep, blue tinged smoke, curled from the younger man's hands, dripping to the floor like some sort of liquid.
The air between the two men shimmered with tendrils of green and royal blue smoke, and where they touched, sparks hissed and sizzled.
Casey brought his right hand close to his lips and blew on the already open palm.
The green smoke thickened and created a thick ball of smoke; the ball bobbed in the air and began to grow rapidly.
The young man brushed his middle finger against his thumb a few times before snapping.
Blue smoke drifted around in the air before emerging with the ball.
The ball continued to bob in the air for a moment, then, it exploded.
The force of it sent both men flying backwards, crashing across the tables of books. Light bulbs popped and fluorescents shattered, raining powdery glass onto the floor.
Casey tumbled to the floor right next to his office. Casey stood up quickly and regained his posture, Stiles noticed something very quickly.
Nor Casey or the other man had been affected by the blow… at all.
The younger man was already standing, brushing glass and debris off of his sleeve.
"Cassius, this could be so much easier if you just gave me what I came for. " The man said with a sigh.
"I've said it a thousand times Ameris. I don't have it." Casey hissed.
"Oh but isn't that what they always say?" The man – Ameris replied. "You have one more chance to tell me before I force it out of you."
Casey chuckled but there was no real humor in it.
"Don't threaten me; if you do choose to fight, it's a fight you won't win. You're twenty seven Ameris, that's far too young to die."
Ameris dismissed Casey's comment and spoke.
"Alright Cassius, I'm nothing if not fair, I'll give you a day, a day to give me what I want, and if you don't… well, I suppose what happens to you isn't my decision now is it? Oh and before I go, did you know we had an audience?" And with that he left. The only evidence that he was there was a faint trace of blue smoke lingering in the air.
Casey closed his eyes and breathed deeply, it was all coming together, the legend was beginning. And the more Casey thought about it, the less excited he became.
"What the hell just happened?" Stiles asked, stepping out of the cellar. Ameris had been gone for ten minutes now but Stiles hadn't had the guts to leave the cellar until now.
Casey opened his eyes and turned around. It was bound to come out sooner or later.
"The beginning of something terrible." Casey said.
Motioning for Stiles to follow him Casey began to move towards his office.
Stiles wasn't sure if he could trust Casey or Cassius or whatever the hell his name was, but, like usual, curiosity got the better of him and he followed.
Casey stuck his hand is pocket and pulled out a key and quickly unlocked the door.
"That's it?" Stiles asked curiously.
"What?"
"There's no secret word, no scanning of hands? You just… unlock it?"
"Stiles this isn't a scene from a movie, of course I just unlock it."
"Huh…" Stiles mumbled.
"C'mon, there's something I need to show you. Something you need to be told." Casey said ushering Stiles in the office.
The office isn't really what Stiles imagined it would look like; he sorta imagined a weird lair thing, or a secret passage to a lair of some sort, just something more… dramatic, he pretty much expected anything but what it really looked like. The office looked like a normal office, a desk, a chair, a lamp. The only thing that stood out was an odd symbol painted on the back wall.
The sound of Casey's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
"Stiles, I know you've been trying to have a normal life since Beacon Hills, or rather, pretending to have a normal life since Beacon Hills but-"
"How do you know about Beacon Hills?" Stiles asked warily.
"Stiles it's a pretty popular town how could I not know abou-"
"That's not what I meant; I meant how do you know about my life in Beacon Hills, all the shit I went through. Who or better yet what are you?"
"Stiles you're special, really, really special. You saw the guy out there? His name's Ameris and he's dangerous, very dangerous actually. But he's not the worst of our problems. No he's got a boss and whoever it is wants you and he wants you now."
"Okay, before I even acknowledge what you just said, I've got a question. What in the world are you?" The more the man spoke the more wary Stiles became and honestly, he did not need another Peter Hale on his hands.
Casey paused, as if trying to find a way to make it sound less… insane.
"I'm a sorcerer, and so are you."
"What?"
"You're a sorcerer, Stiles, a very special sorcerer. I know it's sounds crazy but… Christ, you just have to believe me."
"Believe you? I barely know you, and the little I know about you could be complete crap! You're a sorcerer, that's great, amazing actually, hope you have fun with that but I'm pretty sure I would know if I had crazy magical powers!"
"I can prove it," He said simply. "Hold out your arm."
"Why?"
"Just do it," Casey huffed.
Reluctantly Stiles held out his right arm.
"I have one thing to tell you; don't move."
Casey closed his eyes and the same emerald green smoke began to surround his body.
"Aurelius, auream unam ego devolvat potentias alligasset intra te. Sit finis, legenda, magus, puer, et sarcinis in unum." Casey tightened his grip on his Stiles' arm and the green smoke around him flashed even brighter. "Do me a favor Stilinski," he whispered. "Don't die."
Nothing happened, everything was silent, eerily silent actually, until Stiles eyes snapped open and they weren't his usual hazel.
They were a stunning golden; the same golden color began to surround Stiles' body. It was the same sort of smoke that had been on Ameris and Casey but brighter, more powerful, more beautiful.
Then Stiles was screaming, a terrible, ear piercing noise, he kept screaming and the smoke around his body kept growing brighter. The smoke became burning hot and with a sharp yelp Casey released his grip on Stiles arm.
Then it became a sort of pattern, Stiles would continue to scream, the golden smoke would burn brighter, and Casey prayed to a God that he wasn't sure existed that everything would go okay.
Suddenly, Stiles stopped screaming, his eyes closed again, and the golden smoke began to fade. Then he fell to the floor.
Casey scrambled over to the body, seriously hoping he was just unconscious.
Stiles' body was still burning hot but he felt for a pulse anyway.
Exactly what Casey was hoping wouldn't happen was happening, Stiles pulse was extremely weak.
He was dying.