Dear Guest, No I will not be putting any Sterek smutty goodness in this story. See this site has been taking down stories with adult content. I'm not sure if they stopped or not but since I lost all the files with this story I am trying not to jeopardize it being removed.
However, since you said please, I think I will. It will be my first time. So it might not be any good. But I will try, look me up on AO3 (archive of our own) I am GravityDidIt.
Also I forgot to do this last chapter. The songs used were, Dangerous to Know – Hilary Duff, and Creeping in my Soul – Cryoshell
Please read, review and enjoy.
Ch.10 Something Witchy this way comes
Stiles, once again is laying down on the silver examination table of Deaton, it's just as cold as he remembers but at least this time he only had to take off his shirt. Deaton has a bright light shining on Stiles bruise while he prods it with what Stiles hopes isn't an anal thermometer.
"So what is it?" Scott asks over Deaton's shoulder.
"A bruise." Deaton says easily. The answer gets him a huff from Stiles. Stiles zeroes in on Scott as his head turns abruptly toward the waiting room of the clinic.
"What is he doing here?!" Scott almost growls out. The yellowed eyed glare is enough to figure that out.
"Hi Derek." Stiles yells out, earning him a betrayed look from Scott. Derek walks in nonchalant and his eye brows do a thing when he sees Stiles on the lab table.
"Again?" Derek asks but Stiles takes it as a personal affront.
"I am not doing this on purpose, okay?" Derek just rolls his eyes. Deaton continues his examination and has Scott and Derek sniff his bruise. Seriously? Derek leans forward but Scott rushes his head to block Derek. He takes a large whiff and backs off quickly.
"You smell like a hooker!" Stiles sits up abruptly knocking the light over (which Deaton catches) and nearly hitting Derek, who merely puts one hand on his shoulder and forces him back onto the table with a little more force than necessary.
"What do you mean I smell like a hooker?! And how do you know what a hooker smells like?" Stiles eyes dart from Scott to Derek to see if he does indeed smell of Eua de' Prosti-dude.
"You do smell like sex." Derek admits looking anywhere but Stiles.
"Well, isn't that interesting?" A voice speaks from the poorly lit corner. The Agent steps out from the shadow and her red eyes Zero in on the bruise on Stiles shoulder/neck area. Stiles notices that Deaton is the only one who doesn't look surprised at the Agent's appearance. "A virgin who smells like sex. Please tell me I wasn't called in for a clumsy case of self-love."
Okay that is just rude.
The fox familiar jumps onto the table without a sound and begins to shrink to accommodate the amount of space Stiles takes up on the table. He begins to regret every choice he has ever made that has lead him to this exact moment…until Mr. Argent and Allison walk in and then he just plain begins to hate his life. Allison at least has the decency to look a little discomfited at his predicament but she looks at Derek with a cross between pity and anger, Scott with however exes with the intent to get together again look, and at the fox near Stiles hip with confusion.
"It's good to see everyone here." The Agent sounds like she's smiling but Stiles notices her receptive look on the situation between the Argent's and Derek.
"Speaking of what are they doing here." Derek states.
"Wow, Derek." Stiles comments. "Were all wondering that but try actually asking a question. The period was pretty audible." From this angle Stiles can see Derek's eyebrow muscles dance in annoyance, he should replay this memory to 'Hips Don't Lie'.
"Despite many people's reluctance to remember." Chris begins with an aggravated sigh. "Hunters are here to protect humans from supernatural threats." Derek lets out a snort earning him a father-daughter glare from Mr. Argent and Allison.
"Now, now boys, and girl." The agent speaks. "We have something bigger to talk about." It seems that the agent's words were enough to get everyone back on track.
"What can you tell me about that mark?" The agent asks.
"Well it's some kind of rune." Allison answers, someone's been reading the bestiary.
"Good." The agent praises, sounding much like a proud teacher. "Now can you tell me what the purpose of this rune is?" Allison shakes her head. "No? Oh well, I doubt the Argent bestiary would have anything this recent in the history of the Craft." She looks around and the room and sighs loudly. "I see I am going to have to explain, unless…" She looks toward Deaton.
"I leave it to you." Deaton gives a small "not really, but actually it is" smile.
"The Craft is the name for the three collective paths of magic. The first path is Shamanism or the path of nature. This tradition uses the magic within the elements or in certain plants to guide magic. The second path is the pathway of contracts and summoning also known as witchcraft. This path is almost always filled with blood, sacrifice and gore as Warlocks (the term used for those who gain power through witchcraft) make contracts with demons and pagan deities in exchange for power. And last but most certainly not least is the Nameless path. Here one must be born with the innate power to control magic. There is no Maybelline you're either born with it or not. Now the rune on Stiles is one that can be found in any of these traditions."
"So than how do you suggest we narrow it down?" Derek asks with an overly dramatic sigh (for him, for anyone else it may have been more or less normal).
"She already did." Stiles answers from the table earning him looks from the entire room…reminding him that he is still without shirt. He can feel his face begin to heat up but he ignores it. "Shaman's get their power from nature right? So a shaman didn't do this."
"DING DING DING! We have a winner." The agent announces obnoxiously. "Now the spiral is used to siphon energy in or out, but with the spiral going counterclockwise it means someone was siphoning energy out of Stiles body." Okay, he is right here beneath everyone's scrutiny, no need to talk about him like he isn't in the room "And the 'eye' is in reference to the inner eye. The inner eye being pathway to enlightenment and spiritual energy tell us that this person was siphoning Stiles spiritual energy." The only two faces without confusion on them were Deaton and Mr. Argent….and Scott but he was still looking at Allison.
"Okay that might make more sense if we knew what any of that meant." Stiles admits from the table, where one of Derek hands finds its way near his shoulder and the heat from it is giving him goose bumps.
"Humans." The agent dramatically sighs with a red circle of the eyes. "Spiritual energy is something that all creatures have. In supernatural creatures, like werewolves for example, their spiritual energy is tied to their physiology, allowing for increased speed, strength, senses and healing, and more obviously their ability to shape shift. So for all creatures a spiritual well exists to store and naturally reproduce more. This well can be enlarged and refilled through near death experiences. For Virgins," The agent fixes a red eyed stare on Stiles. "The well is still growing but once they have sex the well increases largely with 'le petite mort' and then stops growing. But I digress, there is energy in humans and this witch may be collecting it."
"What do you mean 'may be collecting'?" Scott asks astutely.
"Well, it is possible that this person is merely doing this because they used more energy than they could replenish and Stiles being a close by was the perfect opportunity."
"So this was just a onetime thing?" Scott asks more obtusely.
"Probably not." The agent reveals nonchalantly. "As simple as that would be, witches normally work in covens. Meaning if one is here you probably have another." A long silence fills the room with tension so thick Stiles feels like he could cut it with a knife.
"So Witches are real?"
/\/\/\/\
Stiles sits in class and…..still no clue what to do for his Chemistry project. But in his defense becoming the unwitting charger for a witches batteries is more than a little distracting.
But the more he thinks about it the more things don't add up. Like the agent had said she used the rune on him to siphon his energy and yeah, all humans have "spiritual energy" or whatever but it seems too coincidental. And without more information he can't poke holes in any theory or create one that isn't utter bullshit. Looking at the clock Stiles realizes he just spent most of class theorizing and kinda sorta pretending to create ideas for his Chemistry project. Turning his head his eyes settle on Allison. She's taking notes…normally. Which reminds him of the sorta kinda truce she and Derek came up with. Since the witch is most likely working with a coven to "prime" (the word Mr. Argent used) the area for the rest of the coven to move in she and Derek have split the town in sectors that each would patrol, Allison with her Hunters and Derek with Isaac and Peter….and Scott and he would be in places others can't be….no one has figured out where that is yet.
Apparently Beacon Hills is "prime territory" (the Agents words) since it was large enough that certain crimes went unnoticed, unreported, and or didn't stand out, and that it was possible to disappear in a crowd. However it was still small enough that the city didn't receive the same resources as a larger one would. Basically it was a great place for the supernatural to spend their time and not have to worry too much about getting caught (contrary to recent events).
However nothing could have prepared him for the text message that he just received. Nothing could prepare him for the horror that was coming his way. Nothing could help him after he read the text from Lydia. "I got us a Sophomore Prom and your band is going to play."