Chapter Twenty-Five: Sealgair Fuil

Gairloch was not an easy place to get to. An airplane, a train, and then a bus. Travelling had never been Alex's favourite part of her life, the long hours in cars, delayed flights and lost baggage. Exploring new places and seeing different cultures was a perk that almost made everything else it took to get there, worth it. Though, this time it wasn't the stresses of mundane travel tasks that had set her on edge, it was that she and Stiles had been bickering since the plane took off in America.

He had been nervous and jittery since check-in, in true Stiles fashion and Alex had made several mental notes to never travel with him again. She'd also voiced her irritation more times than once and had taken herself to the airport bar, quickly in an attempt to cease her throttling him.

"You're the one who had four too many shots of whiskey of the plane!" Stiles argued, with a huff, a flush settling over his cheekbones.

"You're the one who had a panic attack before take-off!" Alex growled back.

"Seven thousand fatal incidents per year, Alex." He grit out like he hadn't been spewing statistics for the last six hours.

"One in two-hundred thousand, Stiles." She grumbled back. Not only had he freaked out the poor girl who had sat beside him on the plane, but he'd even annoyed the flight attendant enough to have her fully avoiding them, effectively cutting off her increasingly frequent drink orders.

"It was unusually bumpy, alright?" Stiles huffed, his shoulder sagging under the weight of both of their bags. His breath coming in pants with exertion.

"Just let me take my bag. You look like you're about to keel over." She said for the third time since they'd gotten out of the cab and began walking up the long gravel road.

The cab they had to take after they'd gotten off the bus had dropped them off a few kilometres away from the Boarding house they were staying at. The driver informing them that this was as far as he would be able to take them and that they would have to walk the rest of the way.

Deaton had recommended this particular Boarding House because he'd used to work with the owner of the establishment. Her name was Meredith McKenna, and she apparently had the worlds most impressive collection of Wiccan literature in addition to the thousands of other books on the supernatural. It was the worlds most impressive library and the most secret. Deaton referred them to her under the guise that they were Scotland enthusiasts and friends of his - not a Hunter and werewolf's best friend on the hunt for some answers about an ancient coven of witches who may or may not have placed some sort of curse on Alex at her infancy.

"I've totally got it -" He was interrupted by tripping magnificently on his own duffle bags strap that had fallen in the path of his foot. He sprawled to the ground with a gasp of surprise, scattering their things to the gravel path.

His clumsiness seemed to break the tension that had been vibrating between the two of them since they'd gotten to the airport. He coughed around the displaced that floated around him and smiled crookedly at her from the ground.

"Totally." Alex laughed, rolling her eyes and bending down to grab their things, shoving them as fast as she could into whichever bag could fit them. "Come on Miss America," She extended her hand to haul him to his feet, "let's get moving."

"You'd think as a touristy town and a Boarding House specifically designed for tourists in mind, it might have a more accessible road to get to it." Stiles said once he'd gotten to his feet and they began their trek to the house. "The business model needs some serious tweaking."

"It's rustic." Alex shrugged. "I like it."

"Since when are you the positive one?" He turned his head to stare at her with an exaggerated look of surprise.

"Since I've been tipsy since we landed." She laughed. "I mean, come on, you have to admit. This place is beautiful. The whiskey goggles just means I'm seeing two. Twice the magnificence." She joked, but still, her eyes remained on the beautiful landscape.

She'd felt connected to this place as soon as she had seen the beautiful seaside town. It felt as though time had forgotten it - the small cabin-like houses and the dirt roads. Everyone waved in a friendly greeting to everyone else on the street. The sound of the waves crashing on the shore was a constant soundtrack to the ideal country way of life. The overcast sky and fleeting drops of rain made for a melancholy visual but there was something electric in the air that paired well with the scenery. Her skin prickled with the feeling of Gairloch.

The Boarding House stood, lonely and large on a sprawling hillside. It was encased by rolling fields on one side, a forest with dark trees wrangling intricately on the other and the sea crashing with a beautiful violence in the distance. There was nothing for miles, the small town miles away hidden by grassy fields and towering trees. It felt as though there was only the house, standing tall and imposing in an otherwise empty world. When they came upon it, both Stiles and Alex stood for one solitary moment gazing upwards in awe.

"Why do I suddenly feel like I'm in Harry Potter?" Stiles asked, his eyes never leaving the impressive house. It was made of stone, covered in ivy and accented with a beautiful dark wood that gave it so much character it made her feel like it was a living creature. The lack of maintenance gave the whole area a foreboding feeling, like something bad had happened here.

"Or like it's about to." Alex finished her thought out loud and Stiles turned to look at her with curious interest.

"What?"

"There's someone in the top window." She said instead, looking at the at the small dark silhouette peaking through a heavy curtain. When Stiles looked, the curtain snapped back into place and a few seconds later the front door opened, revealing a small woman with a bright smile. Her hair was brown and curly, frizzing with the constant rain. Her clothes were ratty and torn, but large and billowing. A long skirt flowing around her legs in a deep forest green and a long cloak sparking with flecks of silver. She wore a pair of large glasses with thick black rims and when she beckoned them to come in her fingers were barely visible through all of the curious rings she wore on every finger.

"Well," She smiled a large crooked grin that shone even brighter in her eyes, "Come in then, I've been waiting for you."

Stiles nudged her in the arm and whispered lowly, "Did we gain five hours or lose a few decades?"

Alex sniggered and adjusted her bag over her shoulder, leading the way to the dilapidated front porch.

As they neared, the folds in her older skin became more pronounced and her age became a little more obvious, she was in her late fifties mostly likely. The stairs creaked underneath their combined weight and Meredith ushered the pair inside, putting her hands on their shoulders and pushing them a little aggressively into the foyer.

"You're my first guests in a few years." She clapped her hands delightedly, the copious amounts of bangles on her wrists clanging together with the movement. "I hope I haven't lost my touch. My name is Meredith McKenna, it's an absolute pleasure."

Her gaze was unwavering as she stared at Alex and her eyes were glimmering with mirth through her thick lenses.

"Your house is beautiful." Alex commented, unsettled by the eye contact and lowering her bags on the ground.

"OH!" Meredith shouted, throwing her hands up, her clothes flying around in the air with the movement. "Don't put your bags down, I'll show you to your rooms."

Stiles' body stuttered with Merediths outburst and he nearly fell over again, righting himself just in time and giving Alex a look that clearly said, 'what the hell have we gotten ourselves into?'. Alex picked up her own bags with a smile and followed Meredith with a secret smile directed towards Stiles.

Meredith led them through some winding hallways, they were made of grey stone and they were lit with torches that stood in metal fastenings on the walls. If Stiles hadn't already have made a Harry Potter joke, she would have made one of her own.

She stopped in front of a huge archway with two massive double doors, swinging them open with a fervour Alex suspected was practiced but couldn't be sure, revealing a large room with two huge bay windows that over looked a massive cliff. There was a huge canopy bed in the middle of the room with drapery and silk sheets, it looked even more grand with the cherry wood accents. Alex stood in complete shock at the scene before her, thinking that there was no way this place was real and that they were the only guests.

"I gave you my second favourite room in the house." Meredith grinned, "Second to mine, of course."

Something seemed so familiar about this place and Alex felt the feeling of nostalgia wash over her, not like a comforting warm blanket but a like a bucket of cold water.

"It's unreal." Alex managed to say after a moment, a hand resting slightly on her chest.

"Mr. Stilinkski," Meredith said, turning to Stiles who looked just as in awe as Alex, "Let me show you to yours . . . unless you'll both be staying in here?"

"Only if he's really, really sweet to me." Alex fixed Stiles with a feral smile and watched with glee when he flushed from his neck to his forehead. He coughed awkwardly and ran a hand over the back of his neck and tightened his grip on his duffle bag.

"Separate rooms please." He finally said. "Little to no chance I'm going to be sweet to her now."

Meredith gave them a delighted open mouthed smile and clapped her hands together once. "Fantastic! This way."

Meredith ushered Stiles away with a flourish and the double doors shut behind them. Alex wandered over to the bay window that had the best view of the cliff rising into the sky topped with tall green grass. The side of the cliff was a soft brown and plunged in a steep line, meeting the sea with a sharp violence that was startling even from such a distance away. The waves crashed against the side of it, continuous and unrelenting. It was a mesmerizing sight and Alex didn't know how long she'd been staring when she was shaken from her reverie by a chill running down her back.

She straightened her back quickly, uncomfortable.

.

A shower and a fresh set of clothes later she finally ventured out of her room. There was a damp chill that seemed to permeate the air in Scotland - or maybe it was just in this Boarding House. The carpet was rough even on sock feet and the torch light made the narrow hallways seem unending and intimidating. Paintings hung on the walls and each one seemed to catch her attention in a different way.

A small family in front of a small farmhouse, a lone boat on a raging sea, a red-eyed shadow devouring a flower - that one caught her attention with a startling ferocity. The closer she got to the frame, the more the colours of the shadow began swirl together, seeming to move in a perfect imitation of swirling water. The creatures eyes seemed to open and close, blinking at her while the flower beneath it withered and died. Pictures weren't supposed to do that. She reached out her hand, moving forward and her fingertips touched the rough paper of the art only they didn't come into contact with anything.

Her finger tips had disappeared beyond the frame.

Alex's breathing became quick and uneven when the black shadows from the picture began to take up space on her skin, swirling and moving up her hand and enveloping her wrist. It began to burn with an unpleasantness that had her trying to jerk her hand back. It felt like something had gripped her hand or glued it in place. She pulled harder against the invisible force and fear dripped down her spine like honey, slow and adhesive.

A hand clamped down on her shoulder and she swung around on shaky legs, her back hitting the cold stone wall.

"Are you okay?" Stiles was holding her hand tightly in his and his other hand was clasping the back of her neck. "Woah, woah."

"That picture." Alex breathed out, righting herself as best she could but not letting go of Stiles' hand. She dragged him a few feet away in an attempt to get herself further away from the offending artwork. "It's not a picture."

"Alright Rene." Stiles quipped and raised an eyebrow at her, joking but looking intently at the picture they were in front of. "What did you see?"

"It was moving - swirling and twisting around. The monster, its eyes, they - I don't know, they moved." She felt more stupid the more words came out of her mouth. The painting was now just a normal painting. Still and unmoving, just as a picture ought to look.

"Do you think you had a waking nightmare." His hand came to rest against her cheek, stroking it gently. "That's the first one in a while." He said quietly.

"Stiles," She whispered, looking deeply into his searching whiskey brown eyes, "I don't think we should be here."

He pulled her tight to her chest, trying to calm her trembling form. She fit against him like a puzzle piece, her warmth seeping into his veins like a drug. His arm drifted down her back to rest on her hip and she sank impossibly closer to him. He pressed a soothing kiss to the crown of her head and wondered if this fear had something to do with the blood magic somehow warning them away from being here.

"A beautiful lovers embrace." The shrill voice made Alex grip at Stiles harder when Meredith appeared out of the darkness. "It's late, but there is dinner on the stove if you're peckish. I'm off to bed, now."

She meandered down the hallway, whistling a strange and haunting tune, disappearing around a corner and fading into the bowels of her eery house.

"I need a drink." Alex announced, untangling herself from Stiles' long limbs and letting out a shuddering breath she had been holding in.

It took them a few wrong turns and insults before they found the kitchen. There was a warmth to it that was lacking in the rest of the house and Alex found herself finally feeling comfortable as she sat by the hearth while Stiles searched for the good liquor at her request. Her hands hadn't stopped trembling and she felt pathetically weak with her behaviour, the only thing that lessened the blow was that she was with Stiles and he would never make her feel less than worthy for feeling absolutely terrified with the fact that they might have stumbled on something that probably should have stayed buried.

"Stop thinking so loud." Said Stiles, handing her a glass tumbler filled heartily with amber liquid. His lips were quirked in a small smile that made her respond in kind. He sat down in the seat opposite hers and leaned forward into her space.

"Stop listening so hard." Alex quipped, accepting the glass with a grateful look that probably had more of a pleading quality to it, than anything else.

"This might get scary, but you need to know what happened to you."

"Personally, I'd be fine with packing up and getting the fuck out of dodge."

"That's the point." Stiles said, stealing a large sip of her drink. "We're going to figure this out, I can feel it. We're going to save you from whatever messed up fate your parents tried to seal for you."

"I'm scared, Stiles." She admitted, uncomfortable with the tears welling up in her eyes and her inability to control them. "I let myself believe that this would be an adventure - but I think it's going to be something completely different."

Stiles stood from the table and turned his back to her and for one terrible, heart wrenching moment she thought he was turning his back on her. She thought that someone had finally realized that she was just a kid who had seen way too much and survived this long due to dumb luck and decent aim. She thought she had finally allowed someone to see her weakness and he had found her less worthy of his respect, exactly how she had been conditioned to believe people would react to her impuissance.

To her surprise, he poured himself a drink and sat back down across from her looking determined. She felt shame flood her, at her thoughts. Those were the kind of thoughts she was trying to work through, the kind that she was trying to overcome. She knew better than to allow herself to believe that Stiles would ever abandon her because she was scared.

"So am I." He admitted, "But not for me. I'm scared for you, that I'm going to lose you because we can't figure this out." He took a deep breath, followed by a massive sip. "You said I'm the one that figures everything out, but what if I can't figure this out? What if I let you down? What if we leave here and you have to live with this weird witchy voodoo hanging over your head until you - until you . . . kill yourself?" The last two words were broken as he choked on them.

Alex took a deep breath of her own and slowly reached her hand over the stained wooden table, letting her open palm rest in front of him, silently asking him to take it. His larger palm reached out to cover hers and she looked up to find his eyes misty.

"I honestly can't think of anyone else I would want to help me figure this out." He squeezed her hand and ran a gentle thumb over the sensitive skin on her wrist. "I don't know how you did it Stilinski, but you wormed your way into being one of the most important people in my life and if we fail here, it won't be because you've let me down. It'll be because we weren't meant to find a solution here and you and I will find another way."

"You believe that?" The hesitant adoration in his eyes cracked her heart wide open and one of the traitorous tears welling in her eye slid down her face.

"I'm not sure, really." She admitted, "But, I believe in you."

"I love you." He said it so easily. She wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the whole thing. Not once had she ever said it back and he'd told her twice, now. It was as if he didn't care to hear it back, he just wanted her to know. He showed her with his eyes, in the way his hand held hers, in the way his words seemed to be perfectly tailored to what she needed to hear.

She wouldn't say it back tonight, but she was beginning to feel him breaking down every part of her that was built wrong, every part her parents had a hand in creating.

.

"The biscuits are fresh from the oven, dears. Help yourself." Meredith said the next morning as she busied herself over the stove and somehow simultaneously doing the dishes. "I'll be headed into town to grab some things in a few minutes - do you need a ride into town?"

Stiles and Alex glanced at each other over their morning coffee, each silently begging the other to broach the subject of her library. Deaton hadn't exactly been forthcoming with all the information on it other than it was secret and to tread lightly. Stiles widened his eyes a fraction and nodded his head towards Meredith's back and Alex shook her head and pursed her lips.

You do it, she mouthed.

Stiles turned his head and began humming a cheerful tune, pretending that he hadn't seen her.

Alex cleared her throat purposefully.

"Not quite so soon, Ms. McKenna." She said, uncharacteristically polite. "We were actually hoping to take a look at your library."

"My library?" Meredith wheeled around so fast Alex wasn't sure if her body had time to catch up with her head. Her eyes narrowed only slightly while glancing between the pair, suspicion clear in her gaze. "Why would you want to see my books?"

"Just to do some more research about the area." Stiles answered quickly, sensing the mounting tension, his chair squealed as he anxiously readjusted himself. "We aren't just here because we wanted a vacation, we are Scotland enthusiasts and we noticed your library the other night."

"Oh, yes. Well, I suppose that's fine." Merediths tone was clipped as she turned back to the stove and untied her apron to hang on the brass hooks that had several other brightly coloured aprons hanging on it. "Third floor." A pause. "The whole third floor."

She wasn't lying either. The entire third floor was dedicated to her books. It was her life's collection, and to be fair, even that didn't seem plausible - it seemed more likely that she had lived several lives and collected all of these books over a few hundred years.

"This is unbelievable." Stiles breathed. "If we have some time to spare we should look into Werewolves."

"Time to spare." Alex scoffed, looking around. "Funny joke, Stilinski."

.

Laying across the large plush sofa with her feet up in Stiles' lap, Alex flipped casually though a dusty volume of some necromantic ritual manual that was so old she felt sure it would fall apart in her hands if she sneezed. It had been at least three hours of mind numbing research that had been fruitless and an ungodly amount of caffeine later, when Stiles stilled and threw her legs off of him, jumping up with a crazed expression that nearly sent her back to the kitchen for more whiskey.

Mumbling excitedly to himself he sprinted to a nearby shelf of books, hands fluttering all over about twenty different volumes before finding the right one, roughly plucking it from the shelf and flinging himself back on the couch.

"Look at this!" He demanded, flipping open the book and frantically flipping pages. "Okay, so, Blood Letting - this specific Scottish blood magic has a cost - see, right here! It says that it could cost a life - this is exactly what we're looking for! The instruction, its medical. It requires actual medical instruments - this is perfect. Okay," He switched to the other book, "Fuck yes! There's a map. There was a coven here," He pointed to a spot on the roughly illustrated map, "the Sealgair Fuil Coven. Known to have practiced - the blood magic went against the Mahoun's wishes. They were said to have been punished, with death."

"Mahoun?" Alex repeated.

"Uh, like, the Devil, I guess?" His eyes squinted as he kept scanning the page, "As far as I can tell, anyway."

"We have a location?" She questioned, awestruck with the new development.

"We have a location." He confirmed with a smile.

"You're a genius!" She pulled him forward, placing a quick chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth and stood up, rushing to the exit. "Let's go! We have to put on a fucking raincoat or something and get moving!"

She disappeared through the door leaving Stiles to sit wide eyed and more than little stunned on the couch, mounds of books falling over the side of the couch as he fell back into the cushions, a stupid smile blooming across his face.

.

The beach they were on now was remote and damp. The overcast sky and constant mist of light rain clung to their skin, curling Alex's hair around her face and chilling them to the bone. They'd been hiking for three hours, following the picture Stiles had taken on his phone of the last known site of the Sealgair Fuil. Stiles had done a quick google search on his phone two hours back and informed her that legend had it that the coven had been made up only of three sisters. Powerful and unchallenged in their craft. They were feared and respected. They'd won wars and killed kings. It made it hard to believe that they'd been killed for messing with blood magic when they'd committed far worse horrors.

"We have to climb." Stiles announced after a half hour of silence, stopping suddenly at the base of a great cliff. The beach they were walking on ended abruptly the waves from the sea encroaching on the beach and hammering the base of the cliff. There was no where to go but up, or backwards. Alex looked upwards and swallowed a wave of nausea and dizziness.

"We have to climb up a fucking cliff?"

"Bitch at the map, not me." Stiles said, tightening his backpack straps and clipping the front around his middle. "We've come this far, Argent."

That chilling sense of nostalgia washed over her again as she surveyed her surroundings. The cliff, the way the waves crashed against the side abruptly halting the beach not five feet a head. It was the view from her bedroom window. A weird coincidence, but the feeling of having seen this image before overwhelmed her even more as if her brain knew that she'd stumbled across something worth remembering. She stumbled a few steps back from the cliff, her feet catching in the sand and knocking her off balance.

"The school." She whispered, eyes glued to the sight she wouldn't ever really forget.

"Come again?"

"The school, Stiles. Holy shit. The waking nightmare. The one I had in the library. The window! The scene in the window that should have been the lacrosse field - it's this!" Her brain was on overload, how could she ever have forgotten such a beautiful and out of place scene. "There was a reason, this was the reason."

Stiles looked at her as she relived the library and he watched as the new realization washed over her. Making his own connections, he deduced that they were on the right track, they were supposed to be here - or maybe they weren't if they wanted to live. But if they wanted answers this was obviously the place to be.

"Let's go find out why."

The climb was tough, the path was steep and there was more than a few times where they had to stray from the narrowly carved out grove and had to hang precariously from a foothold that was barely there after hundreds of years of rain. Alex went first having a little more experience with the physical aspects of a hunting mission and Stiles followed her hand and foot placement with careful precision. The rain began to fall a little heavier only a few feet from the top of the cliff and the dirt beneath their feet started to melt and fall away the more desperately they climbed.

"Stiles, this last parts a rough one!" She called over the thundering of the rain and the crashing of the massive waves against the cliff beneath them. "There's no foothold, you have to grab the top and swing yourself up." She demonstrated, grabbing the long grass and dirt at the very peak of the cliff and using her core strength to swing her lower half upwards and using her feet to find purchase and the base. She rolled over the top of the cliff and allowed herself one relieved breath before leaning over the side, still on her stomach and peering down at Stiles.

"Impressive." He called up to her, hair dripping rain and sweat onto his face.

"Now it's your turn to impress me!" She called back.

His hand found the same patch of long overgrown grass she'd latched on to and she put her hand over his to keep it in place. He mimicked her move, swinging his legs clumsily upwards, she caught a glimpse of his foot smacking the loose dirt but not finding a grip and falling back down. The weight of his legs swinging back jerked his body and the grass and dirt under his hand slipped away like ash in the wind.

His hand slipped from beneath hers, without a thought for her own safety she grabbed his flailing hand and gripped it with every ounce of strength she had. His falling weight dragged her body down with him until she was dangling halfway off the cliff. Her foot had caught an exposed tree root and jerked her ankle painfully.

The rain was pounding down on them as they dangled over the edge of the cliff.

"We need to find a way out of this, Stiles." She called, a little facetiously. "My back really can't take all the haggis you've been eating."

Stiles looked up at her desperately with another unreadable expression and open mouth. Over the sound of the rain and the waves and the blood pounding wildly in her ears, she heard him yell.

"A joke? Are you fucking kidding me?"