At this time, I expect my next update to be Monday. If I can manage something sooner, I will.
8 Dark
Peter coughed, spitting up lake water and blood. His body shook with exhaustion.
Stiles let his tattoos fall back into place to save energy. Much of his power came from the nemeton, but this one was less cooperative than his. Stiles steadied his breathing. He hadn't loosed so much power since Lydia murdered his father. Back then, he'd had Peter to reign him in.
A different Peter sat before him, hunching over to cough again. Stiles set a hand to Peter's back. They had no pack bond. He felt no comfort at the touch.
"What attacked you?" Stiles asked.
"You're not Stiles." Peter narrowed glowing blue eyes.
"Sure I am, just not the one you know."
Peter turned to glare at Scott and Lydia for a moment. Scott shrugged.
"A spider," he said at last.
"You were attacked by a spider?" Stiles frowned. Spiders were creepy as hell but didn't grown larger than a hand in North America.
"She is a very large and humanoid spider. What kind of eye is that?" Peter pointed at Stiles' face. He seemed to be regaining his strength.
"Nightmare eye. Do you know much about spiders?"
Peter smirked. It was such a familiar expression that Stiles had to focus on his hand touching Peter's back without activating a pack bond.
Peter said, "Werespiders are said to span the paths between worlds with their webs. Maybe you know something about moving between worlds."
"I don't know how I got here. Maybe I should ask her."
"She's not friendly."
Stiles shrugged. "The way I hear it, neither are you."
"Guys," Scott said, "I think she wants to say hi."
Stiles spun toward the cliff Peter had fallen from. A woman stood at the cave's edge facing them with a silvery spider web aura twisting around her, visible only to Stiles' demon eye. She crawled along the cliff face to the lakes edge and scuttled onto the shore. On land she moved quickly, crouched low though she knew they saw her. A cloak hung from her shoulders, blowing freely in the wind. The jeans and blouse beneath it were in tatters, but the dirt on them looked fresh. Stiles guessed they must have been damaged fighting Peter.
"We're just waiting around to talk, then?" Peter asked. He made as if to leave them to it, but Stiles grabbed him by the wrist. Peter could have broken his hold. He stayed instead.
The spider stopped a few paces from the pack and let the cloak fall over her. She grinned at Stiles around long fangs. "Hello, darkling."
Scott stepped between Stiles and the spider. "Who are you?"
She swayed, considering. "You want my name. I'm too old for names. You have names."
"Are you for real?" Stiles asked.
"People must call you something," Lydia said.
The spider inclined her head. "Usually wordless screams. I am literally a human spider."
Peter rolled his eyes. "Her name is Amara."
The spider rolled her eyes too, timing it with the sway of her not-quite dance. Stiles couldn't tell if she was mocking Peter or legitimately going for an eyeroll immediately after him.
Malia growled, "She's playing with us. Are we fighting or leaving?"
Peter said, "I agree. Talking has gotten none of us anywhere."
"Shut up, Peter," Lydia snapped.
Amara tittered. "You can all go. I only wanted to see how the trade went."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Scott demanded.
Amara scurried past Scott to set a hand to Stiles' cheek. "This pack won't accept your kind, darkling. Find me when you're out of options."
She hurried away faster than Stiles' eye could follow. He tracked her aura only moments longer before losing it as well.
"What were you doing with her, Peter?" Malia jabbed a finger against his chest.
"Getting stabbed." He half gestured to the closed wound on his arm.
"Why were you there to get stabbed?" Scott asked.
Peter sighed. "We were supposed to be trading information. Amara had the address of someone who owes me a favor, and all she wanted in return was to talk about Stiles. I assumed she was interested in the nogitsune." He studied Stiles from the corner of his eye. "Guess I was wrong."
"An address," Lydia said flatly.
"It was a big favor." Peter smirked. Stiles doubted Peter would say more about it. If he had to guess, Stiles would say Peter planned to kill whoever it was. He preferred not to guess until he knew more about this version of Peter.
"What would a spider want with me?" Stiles asked.
No one answered.
Scott grabbed a fistful of Peter's shirt and rammed him against a tree trunk. "We saved your life, Peter. Lydia and Stiles saved your life. You owe us."
"There are a lot of things I owe you and your pack, Scott." Peter spoke slowly, unthreatened by Scott's aggression.
"She tried to kill you once. Do you think she won't try again?" Scott leaned forward, eyes glowing.
"Are you two really doing this?" Malia asked, fed up. Maybe it was a regular thing, or maybe she expected better.
Stiles pulled Scott back by his shoulder and placed his right hand over Peter's eyes. He drew on magic stored in his body, deeper than the tattoos, nightmare, or even blood magic. He drew on the power of real sacrifice. Peter fell to his knees. Stiles stood over him and gazed into him. His nemeton lived in another world, but the power was Stiles' now. He closed his eyes and saw as Peter.
Peter eyed the cave with a frown. It looked like a trap. He stepped forward. Finding Darington was worth springing a trap.
His contact had warned him that no one knew what to expect from Amara. She was new to the area but very, very old in her own right. No one could find a trace of her history, but that didn't worry Peter. He assumed her history began in some other version of the world.
Amara stood in the shadows. She looked human for the moment, though her brown eyes held no hint of human emotion. They were hard and cold as marble in winter. She tilted her head at the sight of him, and her shoulders slanted in counterpoint to the motion.
"I am told you know Stiles Stilinski," she said.
Peter nodded. "And I hear you know where I can find my old friend Darington."
"Yes, yes." She rambled the address like the trade meant nothing. Definitely a trap, and she didn't even bother to hide it. "And Stiles, does he know you, Peter Hale?"
"Yes." He answered more than a little out of surprise. Strangers might think Stiles was an easy way into Scott's pack. They might wonder how he survived a nogitsune or how he survived at all while still human. Peter was the alpha who bit Stiles' best friend. No one should wonder whether he knew Peter. They had worked together openly more than once.
"And your relationship?" Amara pressed.
"Amusing." Peter watched her through narrowed eyes. She would give herself away eventually.
"There must be power within him." She swayed, deep in thought. "And yet, and yet he was unsuitable. The sweetness was already on him."
Peter opted to wait her out rather than admit he didn't know what she was talking about anymore.
The spider returned her attention to Peter. "He has touched power, yes?"
Peter said, "His pack has defeated many foes." Himself included. Twice, though it rankled to admit. He doubted that was what Amara meant.
"But how close has he come?"
"He was one of the foes." The longer he kept her interested, the more chance he had to spot her trap. He almost suspected she meant to attack him, but then why go to the trouble of luring him here if not to spring something more complex?
She hissed in delight and shimmied in the darkness. "Which one, which one?"
"The nogitsune."
She stopped, tilted her head, and stepped forward. "He is not a nogitsune."
"Not anymore."
Her tongue ran over her teeth. So the nogitsune had been her target after all. She just hadn't known.
She asked, "He is free of it?"
"Yes."
"It is dead?"
"No."
"Did he die? Was he raised?"
"No." Peter couldn't help but chuckle. He had died and made Lydia raise him.
Amara practically vibrated with excitement. "They saved him?"
"Yes."
Amara tilted her head back to stare down her nose at him. "Will they save you?"
"I don't expect they'll need to." Peter bared fang and claw.
Amara's quiet hiss transformed into a cackle. She moved faster than Peter but fought cautiously. She kept her distance long enough to pull four more arms from her side with sickening cracks and pops. Peter thought they might have been made of her ribs. Each of those arms ended in a serrated blade instead of a hand. Her forehead stretched, making room for beady eyes to bubble out of her skin. Venom dripped from her teeth, now stretched past her lips, and from the blades of her newly revealed arms. One of those arms pierced Peter through his own. Laughing, the spider scurried deeper into the cave.
Peter took a step after her before he realized the fight was done. Not all spiders were venomous. She was.
Stiles came back to himself. He stumbled. Peter knelt before him, wide eyes bloodshot in an otherwise bloodless face.
"What did you do?" Scott asked.
Stiles focused on his breathing. His heart raced. Blood rushed in his ears. He breathed in and out, making each breath longer than the last.
"Stiles, are you okay?" Lydia asked.
He bared his teeth before remembering she wasn't Lydia. Or was Lydia, but not the one he knew best.
"He told the truth," Stiles said.
"But what did you do?" Scott insisted.
Stiles shrugged. It threw off his balance, but Malia steadied him. "I don't know. I've never had anyone to teach me. I just... watched his memory."
Peter stood, steadying himself against the tree at his back. Stiles had never seen someone stand after having him bore through their mind. Peter panted. Sweat rolled down his brow.
"You should rest," Stiles said, leaning against Malia. "I also should rest." He leaned his head against Malia's shoulder and let his eyes fall shut.
Stiles woke later to find they had moved him while he slept. Falling asleep in the woods made that inevitable. He lay in his old bed, the other guy's bed. Sitting up only made the room spin a little, so Stiles guessed he'd be fine in a few minutes. He pushed himself to stand and barely swayed on his feet at all.
The others surrounded Peter in the living room. He sat on the couch, shaking his head. When Stiles stepped into the room, he looked up.
"Stiles," he said.
"What's up, guys?" Stiles asked. He leaned against the doorframe to hide a wave of dizziness.
"Peter was just telling us everything he knows about parallel universes," Lydia explained. While Scott and Malia stood over Peter, Lydia sat with her legs crossed in Noah's armchair.
"Which didn't take long since I don't know anything," Peter spat.
"But you know something about banshees," Lydia countered. "So how does a banshee experience the death of someone a universe away?"
"It could be argued many of your visions are of alternate realities where these people die, explaining how they sometimes live despite your visions, but, really, sweetheart, this case was a you thing, not a banshee thing. You'll always know when Stiles is in mortal danger."
She blinked in confusion and didn't even tell him off for calling her 'sweetheart.' Instead, she asked, "Why?"
Peter thought for a moment before speaking. Stiles regained his balance, so he walked across the room to drop onto the couch beside Peter. When the others stared, Stiles offered only a nod.
Peter said, "Most banshees go mad, or appear mad to others, like your grandmother and Meredith. While you've had your brushes with madness, you have not succumbed. Why do you think that is?"
"I assume you're going to tell me."
"I was hoping you would figure it out, but I suppose not. Banshees don't find anchors the way werewolves do. Most banshees. Doing so would only increase their visions."
Lydia arched an eyebrow. "Are you trying to tell me Stiles is my anchor?"
Stiles tried not to gape. He'd known the other guy and Lydia were friends and packmates, but he thought Peter had just implied they were in love.
Honestly, he'd thought it was Malia. Unless Lydia's feelings were unrequited. Even if they were, it explained how emotional she'd been. Stiles had robbed her of more than a friend.
Lydia said, "Even if that's true, Stiles experienced it too. He's not a banshee or close friends with one."
Stiles wondered if mortal enemies counted.
Peter laughed, shaking his head like she'd done something adorable. Not mortal enemies, then. It wasn't Lydia he was connected to.
Stiles kicked Peter's ankle and said, "We got it backwards. I didn't see it through you; you saw it through me. I am Stiles. I'm this world's connection to him, and you used me to see him." He kicked Peter again. "But you didn't have to be such a dick about it."
Peter shook his head.
"Did they tell you how I got here?" Stiles asked.
"I was under the impression they didn't know."
Stiles rolled his eyes.
Scott told Stiles, "He's almost as difficult as you."
Stiles scoffed. "No one is as difficult as me."
"Why are you proud of that?" Peter asked.
Stiles continued, ignoring Peter. "Besides, I can just take whatever I want if he won't share."
"It seemed like that took a lot out of you," Peter countered.
"It did," Stiles agreed. He leaned forward and locked eyes with Peter. "But how much do you think I'm willing to sacrifice to get home?"
Malia said, "Peter, stop playing around. You're going to tell us anyway, so don't waste our time."
Peter sighed. The look he gave Malia was very nearly a pout. "Amara obviously had something to do with it. Capture and interrogate her instead, if you can." He turned back to Stiles. "Honestly, I don't think you're going home."
Stiles had his hands around Peter's throat before either of them realized he would attack. He burned with the heat of his demon eye. Someone tried to stop him, so he hurled them away with a thought. Scott roared, but he wasn't Stiles' alpha. Peter clawed at Stiles' hands. The blood made him stronger.
Stiles' name crashed into him in a wall of sound. Lydia screamed. The force pushed him off the couch and into the wall. A photo fell off the wall. The glass shattered. Stiles pushed himself up slowly. He needed to control himself, not fly off the handle at Peter of all people.
"I'm done," Stiles said. He held up his hands.
"I thought you said he was your alpha," Scott said.
"I said Peter was my alpha. This is some other guy," Stiles spat. He stood, but held his hands awkwardly in front of him. He had nowhere to wipe the blood.
Peter coughed, rubbing his throat. "I guess you've shown us what you'll sacrifice. Too bad I'm the only Peter you've got."
"You're taunting me right after I tried to strangle you," Stiles pointed out.
"So you admit you were trying to kill me." Peter tilted his head. His throat had already healed.
"I've never seen a werewolf successfully strangled to death, so not really." Stiles still hoped the pack hated Peter almost as much as they hated Stiles.
Malia snapped, "Both of you, stop. I don't care if you think we'll fail, Peter. You're going to help us get Stiles back. And Stiles... tell us about the people you killed."
"What?" He thought they'd settled that they were both killers.
"Was it self-defense?" she asked.
"Was yours?" He knew what had happened to her family on his world and suspected that much had stayed the same here. It hadn't been her fault, but it hurt too much for her to answer.
Malia flinched.
"Leave her alone," Scott said.
"I'm fine, Scott," Malia said. "Mine was an accident caused when my mom tried to kill me. Your turn."
Stiles nodded. "Vengeance."
Peter almost looked pleased.
"Not self-defense?" Scott asked.
Usually, it was, but self-defense against the bad guys counted as vengeance if they'd already harmed the pack. Stiles didn't think Scott cared about usually. "Not always."
Scott shook his head. "Were any of them innocent?" By the way Scott couldn't meet Stiles' eyes, Stiles could tell he knew. Not everything—he couldn't know everything—but he knew Stiles had taken an innocent life.
"One." Only one, but it was enough.
He could practically see Scott wondering why he hadn't lied.
Not Lydia. She clenched her hands in front of her chest. Her knuckles were white. "It was my mother," she said. Said, not asked. "That was how you avenged your father."
Stiles' hands trembled at his sides. "You screamed so loud I almost thought you'd found your banshee powers." She was the wrong Lydia, he reminded himself.
She was still Lydia.
Malia put herself between Lydia and Stiles, growling. Her eyes glowed.
Stiles was weakened from expending so much energy earlier, but he was also bleeding. If Malia attacked, he could take her. He would have to push her away and run rather than fighting back. The rest of the pack would defend her, as would Peter. This was her world.
"Everyone, calm down," Scott said. "The only way to get both Stileses back where they belong is to work together."
"Use your claws," Lydia said. "We can't trust him without insurance. Find out what he knows."
"Peter does it," Stiles said. It seemed the best way to confuse them and make sure a strange Peter's claws never got near him.
"What?" Lydia asked.
"If you want someone's claws in my neck, only Peter's match the scars I've already got."
Peter said, "You just tried to kill me." He didn't mention scars lasting on a boy who could heal most wounds instantly. He didn't mention the effects of repeatedly accessing someone's memories. Usually, it fractured them, made it hard to remember things without a werewolf there to help. In the cases it didn't, it became difficult to extract anything the recipient wanted hidden. Scott could steal Stiles' memories, but he'd have to work for them. Stiles doubted he knew how.
"Peter can't be trusted," Lydia said.
"Neither can I," Stiles pointed out.
"Stop!" Scott shouted. "Everyone, stop. I'll do it. Stiles, please let me."
Stiles rolled his eyes. He took a seat sideways on the empty armchair so the back wouldn't block his neck. He winked at Lydia before Scott's claws sank into his neck. He shouldn't have, but at this point, he wasn't sure it mattered anymore.
Stiles and Scott stood alone in the Stilinski living room, facing each other over the coffee table.
"By the way, Scottie, I've done this a few more times than you."
Scott looked tired. "You're part of Peter's pack," he said. "When Peter was killing people, going after everyone involved in burning his family, we refused to kill with him. You agreed."
"We were accomplices, not murderers ourselves."
Scott had refused to kill anyone, had agreed to help trap Kate and prove she'd committed the arson. Peter claimed she got out of control, that he tried to capture her like he'd agreed. Stiles could tell he was lying, but Scott wanted to believe something better. He saw the best in people, even when it wasn't there.
"But you helped him," Scott insisted. This Scott hadn't believed Peter's lies, or this Peter hadn't lied.
"We saved him. Have you looked at your Peter recently? He'd betray his own daughter for a shot at being alpha again. Honestly, I get the feeling he already has."
Why else would Malia be so cold to her own father? Peter acted like he had something to make up for, listening to her while pretending it was grudging. Malia kept making the pack wait before she dealt with Peter though, probably because she simply didn't want to.
Scott stepped forward, angling around the coffee table. "Stiles, is your pack... are you the villains?"
Stiles laughed. "Only if you ask the Argents. We don't kill without reason, and we're not taking over the world. We're just at war."
"At war?"
"With the Argents, the hunters. They're supposed to have a code, but only Chris and Allison care, and then only if they're in the mood. Other monsters keep butting in, drawn by the nemeton, but none of them matter compared to the hunters."
"Show me what you did," Scott said.
"You don't want to watch your friend's mom die, Scott. I've already admitted to it."
"So you have nothing to hide."
Stiles shook his head. "You shine your light wherever you want, there's gonna be a corner of shadow you missed somewhere."
They stood in the cemetery behind the crowd of a funeral. Lydia stood at the front, weeping openly. Bandages covered half her face. She wore a high-necked black dress that hid the rest of the bandages reaching midway down her torso and arm.
"This is what I did," Stiles said.
Lydia didn't cry alone. Natalie Martin had a lot of friends and family. Allison put an arm around Lydia's shoulders.
"I took a life from every person here. I wanted to take something from Lydia, but I did so much worse."
Scott asked, "Would you do it again?"
"I don't know. I'm not a villain, Scott, but I'm not a hero either. I'm not even a good person. I take care of my pack, and I fight those who would kill them."
"Why didn't you say any of this to Lydia?"
The cemetery faded. They stood by the lake, watching the werespider touch Stiles' cheek.
"I want to know if she was right. I'm too tired right now to care if you hate me. I just want to know. If you still need to see, I'll show you how I killed Lydia's mom. Then you'll tell me if I should go find a spider."
He waited for Scott to nod.
The nemeton towered over them. Rain poured with enough force to breach the tree's thick canopy and pelt Natalie Martin where she stood tied to the trunk. She begged for him to stop. Stiles pulled a garrote tight around her throat. When she had died, Stiles drew a knife and slashed her throat. he bashed the hilt against her skull. The nemeton accepted her life.
Scott recoiled. He pulled his claws from Stiles' neck and stumbled back.
"Where did you learn that?" Scott asked. "Who taught you to use the threefold death?"
"No one. The tree. It showed me what to do." No one ever taught Stiles anything. When he asked, they said no. When he figured it out anyway, they said, 'abomination of magical energy.'
Scott shook his head. "Stiles, you're not a witch."
"Then what am I?" Stiles challenged.
Scott's voice broke when he said, "You're a darach."
"Is that supposed to mean something to me?" Stiles asked. He'd never heard of a darach. By the range of shock and horror on their faces, everyone else had. To them, darach meant something bad.
Peter pushed the couch upright again; it had toppled when Lydia's voice threw them back. He sat down and crossed his arms
"Is anyone going to tell me what a darach is?" Stiles asked, raising his arms.
Scott said, "It's a dark druid, one who turned to human sacrifice for power."
"Does it matter that I sort of did the opposite?" He'd wanted her dead to avenge his father. Power was a bonus.
"That's worse." Scott shook his head.
"Then it matters. Am I leaving?"
Scott began, "It's not that simple," but Stiles didn't let him get further.
"I'm making it simple. Either you'll work with me, or we'll work separately. I don't care how I get home so long as I do."
Scott shared a look with his packmates. He turned back to Stiles with shoulders squared and said, "Promise not to kill anyone."
"I don't exactly have any deadly plots hatching, Scott." He had no enemies here, except maybe the spider, but she couldn't get him home if she was dead.
"Promise." Scott's eyes glowed.
Stiles rolled his eyes. "I promise not to kill anyone except in the last defense of my life or someone else's." He'd made the same promise to his Scott back home, more sincerely because he cared what his Scott thought.
Scott nodded his acceptance. "If we can work with Peter, we can work with you."
"You two have more in common than I thought," Malia added.
Stiles laughed. "Is that supposed to insult me?"
"He's a power-hungry maniac who only cares for himself," Malia said.
"I care for others," Peter corrected. "I'm only loyal to myself." He was covering pain. Stiles knew him well enough to tell, though he doubted anyone else here could. Maybe Peter cared about his daughter after all.
Stiles ignored that and said, "I stand insulted. My pack is the reason it matters what universe I'm in."
"This isn't helping," Scott said. "We need to stop bickering and focus."
"On what?" Lydia asked. "Peter doesn't have anything useful to add, and we're still waiting to hear back from Deaton."
Scott said, "I'll call Deaton. He doesn't know about Amara or... the full extent of Stiles' power."
"Neither do you," Stiles couldn't resist pointing out. "Neither do I."
Scott frowned. "Try not to make Lydia mad enough to break anything else while I'm away."
Stiles threw up the finger guns.
When Scott was gone, Stiles asked, "So did we learn anything from Peter, or was it all roughly what I heard?"
Malia frowned at Peter, but she glowered at Stiles. "He thinks the alpha you mentioned was a raven."
Peter frowned back. "What I think is that the ravens and the spider made a permanent trade of Stiles. Now she has the one tied to darkness, and they have the one tied to void. I don't think either of you is meant to stay human."
"We're each unsuitable for the monster in our own world," Stiles said. "But if spiders can move between worlds, why not come to me? What does she gain this way?"
"She doesn't have to draw you away from your pack," Lydia suggested.
Good point. He had no loyalty to these people, and that seemed to bother them.
Malia said, "And maybe there's something in this world she couldn't take with her."
"Like what?" Stiles asked.
Malia shrugged.
"And why not just grab me and bring me back?" Stiles pushed.
Peter said, "Crossing through the void as a spider does would kill a human. I don't know how she got you here, but it wasn't on her back."
"How do you know that?" Stiles asked. "For that matter, how do you recognize the ravens? My Peter didn't know what they were after seeing them in person."
"Your Peter grew up in Beacon Hills?" Peter asked.
"Yes."
"Was he injured in a fire started by Kate Argent that killed most of his family?"
"He spent six years recovering."
"Did he die taking his revenge?"
"What? No."
"I did," Peter said. "And when I came back, creatures I had never seen found their way into my hometown more than once. I've made it my business to recognize them."
"You don't have a library or a nerdy nephew to sort through it all for you here," Stiles noted. Peter hated research almost as much as Cora.
"Nerdy nephew?" Malia asked. "Are you talking about Derek?"
"Is there a reason I shouldn't be?"
Malia and Lydia shared a look.
Peter said, "Derek works very hard to seem like a tough guy."
"It doesn't work as well when you live with him," Stiles noted. Scott was the gentlest member of his pack, but Derek was a solid second.
"I remember," Peter agreed.
Lydia said, "At the nemeton, something attacked Stiles just before he was taken. We didn't get a clear look, but could it have been the werespider?"
Peter said, "If she's involved, it stands to reason she'd be present."
Scott returned. He surveyed the room. "Deaton has a lead, but he's following it on his own. Liam called. He and Hayden found something. Not one of the betas, but maybe a clue. Lydia and Malia, they need your help. I'm going to talk to Stiles."
"Does this mean you're done with me?" Peter asked.
Scott sighed. "For now."
"Aw, do you want to be allies again?"
Scott glared. "I don't trust you, but you have more experience and information than we do."
"I know your number, Scott," Peter said. "I'll text you." He sauntered out, seemingly unaware of the pack's glares.
Lydia and Malia set out soon after. Stiles had no idea who Liam and Hayden were. With any luck, he'd be back home before he needed to find out. He knew Satomi. She had been a friend of the Hales before the fire. She didn't like Peter.
Scott sat on the couch facing Stiles. He held his hands together in front of him.
"Have you sacrificed anyone other than Mrs. Martin? It could have something to do with how you got here, so please be honest."
Stiles rolled his eyes. "At this point, I've exhausted my reasons to lie." He'd given up his darkest secrets, but at least none of this could follow him home. "There were two others."
Scott nodded. "You can probably guess that three is a significant number."
"I think the 'threefold' thing gave it away," Stiles said.
"I was almost wrong about your being a darach. One sacrifice isn't enough." He said almost.
"But three is."
Scott nodded. "You also use blood magic, which is related but less extreme, especially since you use your own blood. And you have the eye of a void demon. And whatever your tattoos are."
"A mix of symbol magic and blood magic delivered via potion embedded in the skin. What does all this have to do with anything?"
"Deaton says most people stick to a single path in magic. It takes a lot to learn even that, but it's also dangerous to mix them."
"And I mix them."
"You mix them a lot." Scott sighed. "I still have your bloody shirt from when you arrived. Deaton's going to see if he can tell what you were poisoned with. I heard Peter tell you Amara can't just carry people between worlds, and Deaton agrees. He said before that magic couldn't do this, but maybe with enough disparate, powerful magics combining, something unexpected could be possible. I think both of you were attacked in the same moment, and I think Stiles was bitten. Combining that bite, the poison in your blood, and the lightning strike with your powers might, theoretically, let you perform world-changing magic to bring you here."
"Hypothetically," Stiles corrected absently. "That seems like an awfully complicated plot."
"Not compared to the difficulty of finding you across all possible universes. Amara could have given Lydia the poison, claiming it would kill you. Then when she knows you've been poisoned, she returns to strike our Stiles."
Stiles squinted. "Can spiders cast lightning?"
"I don't know."
"What kind of person could make blood magic zero in on a lightning strike in another universe?"
"I don't know. Deaton will have more soon."
"You rely an awful lot on him."
"He's all we've got, Stiles. Peter couldn't help. I texted Argent and Deucalion, but neither one can help. No one else knows anything about magic." Scott glowered but didn't shift. His eyes stayed brown. Stiles wondered if that meant he had excellent control or experience arguing with Stiles. Back home, Stiles and Scott argued plenty, but playfully. They didn't have time for real arguments anymore, or maybe Scott just didn't want to.
Stiles said, "Sometimes I wonder how our worlds can be so similar and so different."
Scott furrowed his brow. "Stiles, I'm serious. A darach can travel ley lines. Have you ever done that?"
Stiles shook his head.
"The ley lines converge on the nemeton, where Stiles left and you arrived. With powerful enough magic, it may be possible to travel farther on ley lines than anyone knew. Maybe it's generally not done because it requires too unique a mix of magics, and maybe that's why it took you to manage it."
Stiles grimaced. "I guess Deaton shared something after all, though this still isn't confirmed."
"He helps when he can," Scott said. "Now you and I will help. Our library is surprisingly useful. Even people who refuse to acknowledge monsters know subconsciously they're in Beacon Hills. The librarians actively stock the kind of sources we need, sometimes even in duplicates."
"Then I hope we get lucky," Stiles said. In his experience, an alpha did everything he could to guide his pack, even to the point of lying to them. He wondered if Scott meant the library to help him or distract him.
