~#~#~#~#~ Stiles' POV
Prue exchanged a look with Simon at the teens' hesitant declaration, but Stiles barely noticed, his mind too wrapped up in fuzzy chunks of memory that didn't match. His brow furrowing deeply as he tried to concentrate on separating the overlapping words and images superimposing over each other. Two different sets of memories, both competing for space at the forefront of his mind and making his skull three sizes too small.
A familiar pain appeared behind his eyes for the second time that day and Stiles had to squeeze them shut once more. Pulse throbbing in his ears and stomach-churning dangerously he stumbled to his feet, his lower legs banging against the table in his haste to move, to escape.
"Stiles!" Prue and Simon's simultaneous exclamation of concern caused the pain to increase and Stiles actually felt himself retch as his nausea reached new levels of intensity. Peeling his eyes partly open he made his way frantically towards the curtain, clumsily smacking away the grasping hands away reaching for him. Feet tripping over one another Stiles swallowed thickly to avoid spilling the contents of his stomach all over the insanely expensive furniture and fell through the fabric partition.
Mind so hyper-focused on simply getting the fuck out of the club, Stiles failed to acknowledge Nicholas on the balcony before rushing down the stairs and out of an emergency exit on the ground floor. Reaching out blindly to steady himself against the cool brick exterior of the building, Stiles bent down and vomited violently onto the damp ground his eyes screwed shut as his whole body shuddered with the force of each retch.
.
.
"̸̡̡̩̼̫̫͂̇̉̄̀̅Y̶͓͍͉̤̦̘̱̿̈́̿̓̂͊͢ǫ͎̱̦̟̖͕̔̇̿͋͛͢u̬̤̼͈̻̜̿̌̂̈̈̚ l̵̢͉̟̪͎͎̋̀͂̕͘͢͢ó̵̡̳͙͚̠͖̱̖̚͟͞͞͡o̢̡̹̠̮̰̪̯͂͛̊̄͊̄̂͟͝k͍̼͙̦̤͇̤͇̞͌̎͊͂͜i̡͔̗͈͔̬̮̿̋͐̾͐̃̿̒̐̄n̡̫̳̻̠̤͙̟̪̊̿͛͑͜͡͠ṇ̴̘͙̝͙͈̂͂͛͐͂̒̔̚͠͝ĝ̩̪̠̦̲̾̋̍̊͆̋̇͒̚ f̴̢̛͓̭̱̞̐͌̌̒ơ̸̭͍͖̣̲̬͇̒̒̔̽͒̓͘͝r̶̨̬͍̟̣͎͖̗̯̄̔͌͑̓̈́̂̈͜͡ N͉̲̞͚̮͓̖͋͛̔̾̓̏̿͊̓̚i̡͔̬̪͖̞̜̋͂̍̓̽͋͝͝c̡̢͕͙͉͆͋̊͂̏͑͋̕h̵͚̤̯̝̩̘̏͋̏̍̓̅͗͘o͕͈͍͙̠͎̒̂͂͂͞l̨͉̲͖̞̼͕̝̳͆̆̍̓̐̓͜ä̸̠̞͍̭̹͔͈́́͊́͘͜s̶͙͖̩͔̞͚̫̔͆͑̐͆̊̚͜͡͝ k̡̫̠̝͉̜͖̞͆͋̈́͑̓̀͢i̴̛̙͚̭̦̞̖̓̑̇̽͘͢͢d̡̠̟̻̠͌͊̓́̏̾̈d̹̣̞̼̜͓̿͒̅̊͒̐̀̉o͔͕̖̜̦̾́̍̊̎̅͘͘̕͘͢͟ͅ?͍̻̹̠̤̙̗͖̥̗͑͒̎͒̑̂̕"̵̫̱̥̟̩̯͇̼͙̮͊̿͒͊
.
.
"̧̛͙̲͓̥̥̻̌̏̃̊͢͡ͅT̸̡̛͇̝̝̭̩̞̋̈́̂̇̏̐͜ȯ͓̯̘͉̟̬̒̐̆̄̈́̀̊͟͝b̵̢̜̗̥̦̠̅͑̆̏̀͝ͅi̯͈̭̤͑͊̔̓͗͢͝á̛̰͔̗̜̙͉̦̋́̎͐͛͞s̖̪̼͚̦͕͉̭̮͋̅͐̀̒̉̀̚͜,̶͇̭̗͓̤̰͕̩͊͑̃̕͠ y̛̤̥̹͚͍͒̈̎͘ǫ̛̯͓̹̙̫̲̂̄̈́̇̔͢ũ̴̪̹̤̝̖̊̃͆̈̇͊͟͢ c̶̨̨͔͈͖̫̤̣̀̅͑̊͗̑ȁ̶̦͇̬̬̻͎͈̻̓̏̒͒̆͞ͅn̸̡̧̘͖͔̰̘̤͆͗͊̎̆͝ c̢̨͕͇̖̝̎͑̈͒̈̈͟ȁ̷̪̰̟̞̳̫̌͊̐͂l̩̞̘̪͇̖̖͉̪̎͂̓̂̏̒ĺ̛̰̘͉̭̌̓̋͂̈́̽͡ͅ m̷̲͈̥̪̜̔̉̿͑̈́͂͢ê͕̗̣̖̜̍̈̓́̅͋͠ͅ T̡͖͙̙͎̞͓̙̤̿̐̐̚͟͠o̶̧̢̹̖̗̗͕̦̿̊͊͆̚̕̕͞b͉̯̣̥̞̽͂̉̉̐̈́̐i̵̤̬̲̗̲̠̻̮͙̋̐̒̕͝à̷̧̮̞̝̝͋͊̿̌̇̿́͜͡s̵̳̼͖̳͉̹̀̔́͆̀̄͑̑͑͘͜,̡̡̛̰̟̬̪̤̊͌̏̿͗̋̔͜͡͠ͅ k̨̢̗̫̠͖̘̺̉̏̋̓͗͆̌̐̀͟͞ḯ̴̧͓̩̜̥͕̫̹͗̆̂̿̔͢d̷̮̙̣̰̮̒̎̍̆͂͐̚̕̚"̴̛̗̲̮̰̙̟̑̆̇̈̆̕͢
.
.
"̴̡̗͕͈̫̱͙͈̱̅͌͛̽̈̓̒͂͡t̨̯̞̘̣͕̟̿̂̑̐͋̊̊͘h̷̬̦̦͍̎͛͗̄̊̔͊͟è̤̯̹̱̖̀̽̆͗͛͢ N̡̨̡̥̘̭͙̙̊̇̈́͑̆͐͞i̷̟̝̫͍̞͒̃͐̎̕ͅc̶̛̠̯̙̤͕̋̀͑̿͂̔͋̕k̴̝̲̘̝̪̲̓̍̅̔̓̉̅̇͟ͅ y̧̢̛̟͕̫͎̞̪̮̬̽͂͐̽̉̊̇̌̓ǫ̙͍̦̤͗̿̃̓̓̽̽̉̚͘ͅụ͓̥͈̲̯̪̜̆̈́̀̈́̈́̌͞ͅ k̷̨̢͔̜̣̞̪̘͙͆̇̿͛͘n̴̗̫͕̲̘̏̉̂͒͌͠͠o̭͇̻̲̟̬̾̿̓̆̓͞͡͠w̟̹͖̮̮̗͙̍̑̊̽̀̍̆̋͞ i̝͈̟̞͒̎͂̄̾̓̈͜͡ş͉̺͔̞̝̔͋́͑̔̃͌͂̇ a̷̢̞͓̜͐͂̆͊̊͌͌͋͆͟ f̤̗̼̖̣͗͗͌̒̇͋̐͘͜͞ȗ̢̲̦͔͈̘̗̜̞͉̎̐́̉͌̐ć̷͍̦̯͚̲̰̿̈́͑͑͠k̨̡̲̮̩̟̭̿̑̂̏̇̈́̇͑͘ͅi̧̥͍̗̣̥̜̐̔̃̅̂̽̉n̛̥͇͉̰̝̠̻̦̋̈̃͢͝g̸͍̞̮̹͇̝̺̙̤̀̅̂͑̄͐̽̏̚͢ l̛̯̮͖̭͚͎̣̯͇̊͗͐͞ͅï̟͙͖͕̽͗̇̅̿̐̾͢͜͠͠é̢̢̗̺͙͌͗͌̑̈̌̒͠"̮̞͍͇͗̃̅̌̋̎̀͜͡
̵̨̡̘̝͍͕̗̪̞̃̋̽̏̒
̶̙̩͇͓͕͚͋̌̾̂̂̌̽̂̓̕ͅͅ
̻̠̩̲͙̪̟̙̣͌̓͊̀̒͐̈̚͡
̡̻̱̝͉̫͖̥̰̊̾̉́̄̂̈́͝"̱̮̙͙̝̙̪͚̣͌̃̈́̍̌̕͝ͅH̗̭̮̭̜̳̗̩̦̾̔̉͋͡ę̸̛̝̣̥̦̫͉͉̗͗̑͊̅̈́͟'̙̙̦̣̘͊̋͘̕͡ͅs̛̳̞͖̱̟̤̈̅͐̓͡͡ d̪̺͈̀̔͂͌̐̇͢͢͠͠ͅa̴̦͉̝͇̰͑̉͆̇̾̊͑̓͢ͅṉ̸͕͎͇̼̜̗̠̳̏̅͗̾̄̓̕ǵ̠̯̤̤͎̀̄͊͌͛̆͘e̸̛͖̼̯͈͚̯͎̍̉̑̔̌̈̒͜͝r̸̳̭͓͎̮͔͛͌̈͋͑͐͝ô͓̩̘͍̭̙̅̅͆̓̎̏̿͠ư̧͚̗͕̜͎̇̓̋̽͆̅̕̕͜s̸͚͍̰̤̦̼͉͖͑̀̈́͆͐̊̇̌͆͝ͅ"̛̘̱͔͓͚̤̠̫̆͑̉̄͛̓
.
He could picture the man named Tobias in his mind so clearly, and could even hear his voice echoing around in his head as the older man let him into his boyfriend's' apartment, could taste the whiskey on his tongue and remember the scathing words said. He could remember finding… a file… a file about someone, a file..about ….Derek?
But… but that didn't happen… Stiles never met him… did he?
No.
Did he?
The more he found himself questioning his own memories, the more the pain in his skull increased towards a brutal type of agony that Stiles had never experienced before. Something was wrong, seriously wrong, but all the teen could do was brace himself as another wave of nausea hit, sending him crashing to his knees with a pathetic moan. Sweat gathered rapidly across his brow and at the nape of his neck as a burning heat spread through his body like a wildfire.
Belatedly, Stiles began to register the feeling of strong hands looping around his waist, tugging him gently up from the ground and turning him around so he stood chest flushed against a sturdy and warm surface. Peeling open his eyelids felt like fighting against every single cell in his body but Stiles managed it, and after a few disorientating seconds where his vision doubled and the edges darkened Stiles could make out the face of the person holding him.
Nick.
Whining low in his throat Stiles tried to wiggle his way out Nick's grip, his brain still reeling from the onslaught of memories that seemed to go against everything he thought he knew. But somehow, … somehow Stiles knew that the memories were right, were more real than the fuzzy recollection of a panic attack that seemed more and more fake with each passing second.
"Stiles? Stiles... Sweetheart, talk to me. You're scaring me, love, what's wrong?" the concerned dulcet tone of Nick's voice finally began to seep through the incessant ringing in Stiles' ears and his heart began to flutter with fear.
Nick did this to him.
Nick hurt him, made him forget.
He lied.
Lied!
Lied!
LIED!
Tears springing forth Stiles renewed his efforts to fight his way out of Nick's grip, although his frantic attempts proved futile, his body still weak and shaking from the vomiting.
"Y-you… lied to me. You made me forget" Stiles whispered betrayed as Nick tilted his head in feigned confusion "sweetheart, you're delirious. What are you talking about?". Blinking the tears away in a stubborn attempt to appear less unstable, Stiles shook his head feebly declaring in a childish whine "no... no, I'm not sick, I remember". His declaration only earned himself a pitying sort of sigh from Nick, who raised both of his hands and cupped Stiles' face in a bruisingly tight grip disguised as a gentle embrace.
"It's okay Stiles, I'm going to make this all better"
"Nononononopleaseno" Stiles finally let the tears fall down his cheeks as Nick just smiled sweetly, leaning forward and pressing his lips against the teen's forehead.
And then everything went black.
~#~#~#~#~ Nick's POV
Honestly, Nick didn't know whether he should be frustrated or impressed at how fast Stiles' mind broke through his spell to unlock the original memory, on one hand, it set him back once again on his plans, but on the other..it really was a magnificent display of mental prowess.
Clearly, he had greatly underestimated his little Spark's ability.
Humbled but amused by his little revelation Nick swept Stiles up into his arms bridal style, turning on his heel to face his coven who watched the interaction with his boy with a mixture of true concern and morbid interest. Prue, in particular displaying distress at the state of Stiles, not that he could blame her, Stiles did have a rather enchantingly doe-like innocence about him.
"Sorry folks, it seems like the guest of honor has a touch of food poisoning. I'm afraid I'll have to cut our night short and take him home to rest" Nick began making his way down the alley, pausing slightly in front of Prue with a polite smile and soft request. "Prudence, would you be a dear and help me with the car?" Prue nodded eagerly, and Nick was reminded once more why she was his favorite coven member.
It didn't take long for the trio to arrive at where Nick had parked his car, and soon enough Stiles was buckled safely into the back seat with Nick's expensive jacket draped gently over his upper body. Closing the door Nick sighed at the sound of Prue's tentative voice echoing from behind, stating the obvious and making him reconsider his previous declaration of favoritism "Nick.. we both know what's wrong with Stiles had nothing to do with food poisoning, don't we?". Raising a sardonic brow Nick crossed his arms as he faced the small blonde "I know an adverse reaction to black magic when I see it, Prudence! I didn't gain the title of Supreme Warlock with just my good looks, although I'm sure it was a contributing factor".
Prudence at least, had the sense to look apologetic for even suggesting otherwise and for a second Nick was certain the conversation was over and he was free to go and take care of Stiles, his hopes were dashed however when Prue gently placed her hand on his upper arm and squeezed, her voice soft and sorrowful.
"I still remember Theodosia you know"
Sucking in a sharp breath Nick quickly worked to reign in the spike of sadness and anger which laced through his heart at the sound of her name. The name of his last beloved. Face struggling to remain as stoic as he would like, Nick leveled Prue with a cold glare, his jaw clenching "your point being?". Giving Nick a knowing look she dropped her hand from his arm "my point is, I remember what losing her did to you. Her suicide... broke you. Me, and the others we just don't want to see you get hurt like that again".
Letting out an abrupt laugh Nick gave a vicious smile "oh I'm sure Rebecca wouldn't mind picking up the pieces so much". Rolling her eyes Prue snorted "Rebecca is a manipulative slut and she's always going to be pissed you didn't pick her as your bond-partner". Shrugging as if to say fair enough, Nick pushed himself up from his position leaning on the side of the car "now, if that's all you wanted to say… I'd like to return home with Stiles".
Prue wrapped her arms around herself and began to back away, her soft sincere words following her in the form of a white frosted mist in the air "goodnight Nick, take care of yourself….and Stiles". Grunting in response Nick slid into the driver's seat, closing the door behind him with a loud click. Letting out a large sigh Nick adjusted his mirror so it gave him a perfect view of Stiles' sleeping form, a reassuring smile stretching across his face as he spoke into the silence as if Stiles could hear him.
"Don't worry my love, Theodosia was weak-willed and she proved herself unworthy of my love when she tried to take her own life. I granted her request for death, but I will not make the same mistakes again. Tomorrow night, we shall be bonded mind, body and finally, soul. Where not even death shall do us part".