when people find out the truth, when stiles lose his shit, when magic is used like it had never before

V : UNEXPECTED

The nineteenth of March came much faster than Stiles had expected. There, on his calendar, repeatly circled in red, he had seen this date getting closer and closer, until 48 hours finally separated him from the fateful date. Needless to say, his nerves had been very badly damaged during this period. It had been a race, in other words, from the point of view of the human-who-was-not-really-a-human. A race to master Gaia's powers. A great race against time, which he had naturally hoped to win, even though he knew it would probably not be possible. Deucalion was a murderer, a dark soul, an evil being who was experimented. Stiles was... Still Stiles, but with an update, he would said. An update done in a hurry, not totally complete but already better than the old version, it seems.

Eurydice had seen him change completely during the last two weeks of the deadline imposed by Gaia. She had seen him work his ass off to learn new tricks, as the teenager used to say. She'd seen him work his critical thinking and imagination, staging battle patterns that were always more impressive than the previous. She had seen him calm and confident, light-hearted, yet full of pain. Because he was exactly where he was supposed to be, in this forest that had become like a second home, given the time he spent there, alongside beings whose love and admiration surpassed anything he had ever known. It was pure and without ulterior motives. Miles away from what the Human Being himself was. Of course, that didn't mean he'd completely forgotten his humanity as he immersed himself in his apprenticeship, in this new life he knew was fleeting. Stiles still loved his father as deeply as ever, if not more strongly, since he had come to feel the auras of humans. And, his emotion had been beyond imagining, when he had realized how much his father loved him. Just like them. A love without limits, without ulterior motives, pure. The love of a parent for their child as it should be. It didn't matter that, most of the time, it was confusion that he perceived in his father. After all, hadn't he given him ample reason to worry?

Stiles had acted exactly the way he said he would, Eurydice had noted. Very few men before him had kept even a tenth of the word they had given. But not Stiles Stilinski. Not this boy who only wanted to protect and ensure the well-being of his loved ones. He had sworn to do everything he could to make sure nothing would ever happen to them. Sworn by Gaia that he would cut ties if he had to, because none of them should ever know about the Legendary and Mystical side of the world. And so he had. His heart was bruised and broken, his soul torn to pieces, but he had done it, and he had become stronger for it, in his head, in his heart, in his mind, in his very soul...

In his Magic.

Gaia had read him, it seems, and everything seemed to become clearer in his head. The wolves, the men, the song of nature; everything. It had been like mending a hole in a straw, a leak, or whatever one really wanted to call it. Stiles had been momentarily fixed. Of course, it hadn't been without consequence. It never was, after all, was it? But there were small consequences and those that were not. The first had been to attract bugs of all kinds, as the young Protector so aptly put it, to him. Cats would follow him when he walked through the streets, begging for petting and attention, dogs would celebrate him for no apparent reason, at least for the owners... Even the birds, it seemed to him, seemed to chirp with an apparent happiness, on his passage. That day, he had felt like a freaking Disney princess, so much so that he had ended up humming a: How far I'll go, which reflected a certain adequacy with his situation. In short, he was more in tune than ever, with Life - the one with a capital 'V', please.

Obviously, he should have expected, at some point, to see the famous Mystic and Legendary side of the world. Especially the werewolves, since some of them lived in the same town as him. Starting with his best friend, who had taken it very badly when he broke up with him by phone. Because that's how it was, wasn't it? The McCall-Stilinski duo had broken up, and it hadn't gone unnoticed by anyone, starting with Coach Finstock, who, despite his best efforts not to show it, had some affection for his students. Stiles had broken up with Scott, left the Lacross team, without a warning or anything. He'd come, seen, and left as quickly as possible, his face closed and his walk more serene than ever, without even giving the adult a chance to protest or anything else.

Would he have even done it, when Stiles had always been that guy sitting on the sidelines? Probably not, he thought to himself, without even feeling the bitterness that had gripped him a few weeks earlier, when he was still just an ordinary human, just a little smarter than the average. Yet he sincerely loved the sport. It had been like a pact between Scott and himself to become Lacross stars. The whole team knew it, made fun of it regularly, and even though Scott was the only one who had made it - thanks in part to his new lupine abilities - Stiles had never given up, trained hard, even knowing how much his agility and talent for the sport in general was non-existent.

So yeah. Seeing Stiles Stilinski show up one fine evening, to tell him he was giving back his outfit and stuff, had been a big surprise. The iconic and constantly mocked duo breaking up... Who would have thought it? Bobby Finstock was stunned, even more so when he saw his favorite player trying to crawl towards the human, hoping that the latter would address him even a word, a look.

Stile had run off without even looking up at the kid who had been his best friend, his brother, since forever.

Scott had again taken this gesture, like a punch in the heart, feeling sorry to see that the boy was cutting the links, one by one, without even seeming to suffer more than that. It was like facing a block of marble and still! The young McCall was persuaded that an iron cell would have made the effort to speak to him.

Lacross aside, Stiles had also stopped going to the elective classes, although he had been taking them rigorously. This had allowed him to catch up on subjects such as economics and physics and chemistry, where Harris always took great pleasure in taunting the now-separated couple with sharp and hurtful remarks. He had particularly lashed out at Stiles' grading, after Stiles had politely asked him to: mind his own business for a change. And, once again, not content with not showing up for certain classes, Stiles seemed to disappear from the radar during breaks. He could still be found hiding behind the geology section of the library during breaks between classes, but when lunchtime came around, he just disappeared.

The wolves had been looking for him but never found anything.

It seems that Stiles had learned to hide from the wolf's sense of smell, so much so that sometimes his scent would just disappear: poof, in the middle of nowhere. Of course, seeing that Scott hadn't really let go of the case, had moved the Stilinski more than he would have thought. Passing over Isaac who only mingled with the stalker, grunting and insulting him copiously and, Allison and Lydia who sighed, shoulders shrugged while asking simply to be left alone if such was his desire, Stiles felt even more affection for this lonely boy.

Scott aside, Stiles had begun to notice that other wolves had started hanging around his house. He hadn't smelled their scent, no, he didn't need to, wasn't capable of anyway, since all he had to do was listen, to know. Slip his fingers into the hair of this rabbit that squatted in the ferns and only knew how to emit the fear of having been close to being eaten by a wolf-man. Yes, even rabbits had a little bit of a drama-queen side, the young Protector had said to himself and then had to assure him that no, Derek didn't eat cute rabbits, even if he did seem to sit at Lucifer's table every Sunday. The same goes for Isaac. He may have dragged his dickhead around Beacon Hills, but the high schooler knew he was incapable of hurting anyone.

"- It'll get better," Stiles had promised them, lost in his garden between the small fauna and the singing of the flowers. "Two days and all will be finished," he had surmised, heart a little heavy, because he had no idea of what would happen after these two days.

No idea if he would survive (he highly doubted it), or anything. One thing he was sure of was that after those two days, the voices in his head would quiet down again. Gone would be the singing of the trees, the flowers, the small fauna and the one that was not. No more whispering of the wind and the life he could feel all around him.

This thought alone broke his heart.

The idea, that after these two days, after Deucalion, and only if he gets out of it alive and well, he come back to be the same human with an exceptional I.Q., but unable to help, useless. The fifth wheel, because he wasn't a wolf, wasn't a banshee, wasn't a hunter, he was only Stiles Stilinski, the human of the pack. And that hurt, more than it bothered Eurydice, who sometimes got worried that Stiles would do something stupid. A mistake of the kind that would make him go to the other side of the fence, where everything was only darkness and pain, quest for power and misfortune. After all, he was only a human and many of them had gone through this, long before him. By greed, often, mostly, but also because, like all drugs, Gaia's magic acted on the mind of its user. The more one used it, the more one wanted it and the less the body followed. The Mother-of-All-Things had warned him. The aftereffects were coming slowly, but surely. The veins that appeared black against his skin, the bark that took shape in his neck. He was drawing from this life, from the magic, was like a sponge and soon the sponge would reach its maximum threshold of absorption.

Far from worrying the high school student however, he kept thinking : two days. Two days left.

Sitting in the middle of the clearing, his hands buried in the grass, in the earth, in the ground, Stiles seemed asleep. Eyelids closed, breath slow; a perfect trance that no one could have interrupted. He would not, after all, have allowed it. Not when he'd spent the last few days trying to locate Deucalion and his pack, through the Ways of Nature. It had been complicated, like tracking down one particular bee in a hive, like looking for a needle in a thousand haystacks. Exhausting, frustrating. Sometimes he managed to spot his trail, but then he always ended up disappearing after a few moments. It was like trying to collect water with a colander, he had said to himself while almost smashing his fist against a tree as anger fil his heart before finally remembering that it was very likely that the said tree would hit him with a root for any revenge.

He couldn't fail this time. Not when he had, at best, twenty-four hours to get the Alpha Wolf out of his den and make sure he didn't hurt anyone else. Take away his wolf powers, for example. One way or another. He had thought of so many ways to get Deucalion out of the way, that he was now even more sure which one he would use.

"Focus," breathed a voice from somewhere in his mind, and the high school student tried once again to clear his mind of all thoughts.

Again, he focused on the vibrations of the ground, on the life that ran through the earth, there, buried as well under the earth, as under the tarmac. It was everywhere. In the flowers that grew in the gardens, in the insects that roamed the air currents. He linked his consciousness to a first being; then to the second. Jumping from one living being to another, as one plays leapfrog. Never lingering there too much, at the risk to finish trapped there forever. Transposition, or astral projection, call it what you will, was not a magic to be played with lightly. Eurydice had been furious at first, he remembered, when, against her advice, he had tried it, just missing to merge his mind with an alley cat.

She had been so furious, that she had ended up threatening him to attack his relatives, if he stupidly came back to risk his ass that way.

Then the young Bearer of Gaia's Magic, had become angry in his turn. He didn't care if he lost out, if it would allow him to find Deucalion and kick his hairy ass, he had argued. What was the Dryad supposed to say to that? This kid was relentless, she knew that with or without her approval, he would do as he pleased. So she gave in. She had explained to him how to use this faculty, without getting lost in it. Stiles had succeeded the exercise with brilliance. As if he was born for the task. As if it were only a formality. He leapt like a hare from consciousness to consciousness, even more easily in those of the dogs. Probably because of the trait they had in common; unwavering loyalty.

Lost in the consciousness of a stray dog, Stiles didn't immediately notice that he was no longer alone in the clearing. He had finally spotted the scent he had been searching for days. The thrill of it made him flap his tail and bark softly. There, superimposed on this dog that he had been around for a short time, however, he felt a big puff of affection take him, for this being that had let him maneuver in all tranquillity. With a mental caress, he thanked the beast, noticed a crow and, a wink later, he found himself flying over an abandoned building, miles away from any habitation. Croaking, he landed on the relay station, shaking his wings for a few moments, before turning his attention to the scent traces, showing that there was at least a trace of life inside. He may not have had super hearing, but he could still perceive some sounds. Better still, his vision allowed him to spot a dried footprint in the mud and the smell of wolfmen, very particular.

Gently releasing his hold on the raven's consciousness so that it could fly away, with him as a clandestine passenger, Stiles gently indicated to him to come and land on a windowsill, since flying was not really in his skills and probably never would be in twenty-four hours. In a flutter of wings, the bird came to perch at the indicated place and, at once the instinct of the small predator seemed saturated by the fear. The student could feel the bird screaming in his head: danger, danger, danger! So he had to take a moment to try to calm the beast, but nothing to do. It croaked, once, for the umpteenth time. Inside the building, Stiles perceived a tiny movement, had just enough time to recognize the hard face of his target, before seeing himself expelled from the body of the corvid when a hand came to close around his tiny body and that the bones of his head emitted a particularly distinctive crack .

The violence of this gesture made him suffocate. The panic landed in great pomp in the mind of the teenager, the panic and an irresistible desire to lean to vomit lunch and intestines. A desire that he managed to control, in the absence of his emotions that made explode a torrent of tears from his eyes. His body began to shake, he could not manage to breath and on top of this, he could feel the pain of his heart and the guilt of his soul.

"Stiles!" He heard a loud, deep voice.

Then at that moment he realized that he was not so alone anymore. It started with the grip against his arms, firm and strong, then on the face that managed to take shape through his tears that blurred his vision.

"D-Derek?" He stammered between horror and surprise, a touch of relief coming to sprinkle the whole.

"Who else, you idiot?" growled the wolf without the slightest delicacy.

Damn it, he even thought. Something's really wrong with him…

And honestly, he felt like he was the only person to notice that yeah, Stiles Stilinski was definitely not okay.

It wasn't entirely true, of course, since the Sheriff and Scott himself had made the same remarks to each other, without daring to even mention it to the student in question. Well, let's say rather that, for the first one, Stiles was pretending that all was well in the best of the worlds, while he still remembered too well, his pseudo break-up with the second one. For lack of tangible evidence, his dad had given up, too used to the weirdness of his only son anyway, and Scott... had been functioning as if in slow motion ever since. And in all this?

In all of this, he, Derek Hale had just found the most problematic human on earth, surely, having a panic attack in the middle of a clearing lost in the dead of nowhere, in the many hectares surrounding Beacon Hills. If there was anything more suspicious than that, he'd be willing to shave his head and put his hair up for sale on Ebay, damn it.

"What are you..."

"..Doing here?"

The teenager nodded with a tiny movement of the chin, there, between two very disgusting sniffles and other hardly contained sobs. Derek, who was not done with staring at him, frowned a little more, before resuming the word.

"It's what I was going to ask you," he said in a grumpy tone. "I've been trying to wake you up for twenty minutes, Stiles."

"Oh..."

"Oh? Oh ? That's what you going with ?"

A growl erupted from the wolf's throat, and only then did Stiles become aware of the carmine color of the pupils that glared at him with something he couldn't quite define. Derek's wolf was there, on the surface, so well that Stiles could feel it. He was power and raw strength, greatness and... Everything. Everywhere around him, in his personal space, down to the musky scent that invaded his senses and made his head spin.

"You've changed," the lycanthrope said after a few moments of silence that the teenager quickly regretted. "Since the other night, it's getting worse and worse. I can't take a damn step in my woods anymore, without your smell assaulting my sense of smell. So what? You became a ranger from one night to the next, to spend your life walking around my land?"

"You don't own it, Derek."

"It's been in my family for generations."

"The Earth has no master , stupid wolf!" the human snapped angrily.

Jesus, this man always managed to push him to the limit, no matter what. What right did he have to claim Gaia's land? The one that didn't belong to Men, not since they had started, thousands of years ago, to dirty it, to destroy it, to dispossess it of everything that made it a geological jewel. In front of his face, the wolf's fangs snapped with force. As much as the wolf loved the mystical side of the human, the man felt the need to smash his skull against a rock. Excessive violence, might have been his middle name at that point.

"Watch your mouth, Stilinski, don't push me," the wolf-man finally growled against his ear.

A shiver ran down the spine of the human-who-wasn't-really-a-human anymore, who then found himself shivering, before sniffing one last time, with all the class he didn't possess. Derek Hale winced, disgusted, as he took a step backwards, finally deigning to release his grip on his cadet's shoulders, who could easily see the bruises that would appear on his skin, while Derek found himself crossing his arms against his much too muscular torso, after having risen from this semi-crouched position.

"Seriously Derek, why are you here ?" Asked Stiles. He was already tired of all this bullshit.

Damn it. He had finally found Deucalion, it seemed, after spending countless hours tracking him down like a wild animal. On the other hand, a life had been taken so that he could achieve his goal, and honestly, the teenager wasn't sure he could forgive himself, never mind that it could only be a bird.

Or maybe he was getting way too sensitive. Did this pain belong to him at all? He wasn't even sure anymore. Everything was confused, his head was confused, itself.

"I'am trying to understand," Derek pulled him out of his thoughts.

Obviously, thought the teenager, he had not yet succeeded, since he had come to seek the answers at the source. Unconsciously, Stiles tensed. By showing too much curiosity, he feared Derek would finally understand, risking everything he had worked on for so far.

This must not happen, Mieczysław, breathed a voice in his head.

There was of course, only Eurydice to still call him this way and this, despite the perpetual reprimands. With a gasp, he moved a hand against his skull, barely noticing that his hair had started to grow back.

"Understand?" He finally asked, while trying to control the tremors in his voice. Derek nodded with a single word;

"Understand."

Yes. Well. Sometimes he really felt like he was talking to a wall. A devilishly sexy, muscular wall and-.

Jeez. I'm starting to lose it, that's it. I'm starting to get mental images of a naked Derek, what the heck. How do I even know what he looks like? This is bullshit, my brain is melting. It's melting and I'll soon be locked up in Eichen House, he wandered off, noticing a tree in the distance, which he began to stare at, while trying to escape the vision that was now dancing with his thoughts. Who's the jerk that's messing with my thoughts? Guys, no kidding, this is seriously not nice. How do you expect me to concentrate if you start throwing fucking naked people into my head? Again, Scarlett Johansson, I'm not saying, but Derek. Derek. He paused, stared at what must have been a wind spirit, one, more exactly, that he knew was particularly malicious. The same one who, weeks earlier, had enjoyed ravaging his hair with all kinds of flowers. You and I, Tinkerbell, are going to have a little discussion about spying on people when they shower, and then messing with other's heads with those same visions. It's called an invasion of privacy, and I assure you that people have gone to jail for less...

"Stilinski! called the lycanthrope and without any difficulty, the bearer of Gaia's magic could feel the wolf really, really on the surface of human consciousness.

"Yeah?" he said, coming back to reality slightly; the adult's reality, at least.

"You with me?"

"With... You?"

His cheeks warmed up. Derek raised his eyebrows.

"On earth," the man specified in a completely useless way.

And Stiles repeated:

"On earth," before flickering for a long time and ending by nodding his head. "I.. Yeah, sorry. I was thinking and I got lost in my thoughts..."

"Obviously," the man said mockingly.

It was of course, needless to say, more sarcastic than that, the lycanthrope could not have done. Deciding to get over the bad temper of the bearded man, Stiles stood up on his legs, just to fill the meter that had to separate him from the face of his elder and thus, avoid the latter to look down on him, before dusting his clothes in a distracted way.

Obviously, the fact that he was now standing on his two legs, didn't change anything to the fact that Derek was still much taller than him and so, the blue-green-brown (he wasn't quite sure...) of his eyes had hardly finished, it seemed, to judge him. It was a combination of curiosity, disgust and total incomprehension and Stiles, who chose not to be offended by what he could read in the eyes of his elder, focused on the wolf, who seemed as much, if not more, disturbed than his human. They were as bad as each other, he thought.

"Go home," he mumbled, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatshirt. "I'm not one of your cubs, what I do is none of your business now, or ever."

"Why did you cut Scott off?"

"How did you... Nevermind. It's none of your business."

"It is when it affects my pack."

Stiles frowned.

"Scott's not part of your pack, Derek," he hissed, unable to keep the worry from piercing his heart.

"Maybe before. A wounded wolf usually isolates himself. But sometimes he seeks out a pack to heal."

"I'm gone for two weeks and this jerk spin out of control," he grumbled into his non-existent beard.

He did not notice the frown of the Alpha, nor even the breeze that came as if to caress his cheek, in a silent: watch out !

"Gone? Didn't you make it clear to him that you wanted nothing more to do with him? With us?"

"Well, you heard about that, Hale, so once again, what the hell are you doing here?"

"I'm trying to understand."

"There's nothing to understand, for God's Sake ! It's imprinted on your tiny wolf brains?"

"You're up to something, I don't like it."

"Bullshit! I'm trying to have as normal a life as possible, on the contrary. And you're not helping much, you know? Since you keep getting in my way all the time."

"A normal life, you say?"

"Exactly! No oddities, no hairy beasts hungry for my skin every full moon, no murders, no psycho uncle, no crazy hunters. My definition of normal , Derek."

The Alpha took a step forward, a kind of indefinable grin slowly taking place on his lips.

"Well, well, well," he whispered too quietly. "You can probably explain that to me, then?"

He grabbed Stiles wrist, exposing him to the few rays of sunlight that managed to filter through the canopy of the trees. Stiles immediately tried to retrieve his arm but without much success and as if exposed, his eyes went straight to the blackish veins running down his arms that he knew would continue to run down his torso like a large railway map.

"This is clearly not normal," said the wolf, tightening his grip on the poor wrist.

"That's none of your business," the human retorted through his teeth. "What the hell is wrong with you, Derek?"

"What's wrong Stilinski, is that wherever I go in this fucking town, you're everywhere ."

"That's stupid, sourwolf. I'm not able to split myself up yet. I'm just a poor human, remember?"

"Enough with your bullshit. The entire Town smells like Stiles Stilinski. And you want to know what you keep smelling?"

One step back, one after the other, Stiles barely had time to consider the trunk at his back before a firm hand grabbed him by the collar of his favorite sweatshirt. His Adam's apple made a joyful round trip in the depths of his throat, when he found himself staring at the carmine eyes of the adult.

"Home-cocoon-warmth-summer," he said like a poem recited by heart.

Stiles's heart sank down. He couldn't believe what he had just said and staring at Derek, he knew that the man was not about to let this pass.

"What?" he asked, eyes full of surprise.

"I.."

"How can you..."

The wolf on the surface of his consciousness suddenly stirred, Derek took a breath, body shaking.

"You already told me...," tried Stiles to catch up his mistake. "The last time. That night, in my room. You said I smelled like the forest, like home ."

He stuttered, while attempting to blend in with the tree trunk in his back. Derek stepped forward, frowning.

"I never said cocoon-warmth-summer, " he pointed out to him with angrily.

This time Stiles was convinced that the Alpha was currently resisting the urge to open his carotid artery with his teeth.

"Oh," he said again.

The grip on his clothing was tightened, almost taking his breath away.

"Well, what do you want..., (Stiles made an attempt to catch his bullshit, once again) I'm smart, you see... Intuition and all.."

"Don't fuck with me!" Shouted the werewolf and, the human squeaked, scared out of his wits.

At once, the forest seemed to come alive. A breeze, a gust of wind, the song of nature rose up, making the blades of grass and dead leaves waltz, snapping the branches of the trees. The wind howled, in perfect sync with the fear of the Bearer of Gaia's Magic, who, with his heart still beating fast, stared at his opponent, a cold terror in the chocolate of his eyes, because he did not forget that he was facing Derek Hale. Because he did not forget that this guy seemed to take a malignant pleasure to torture him psychologically, as soon as they were in the same room. Because this same guy was able to change himself in ferocious beast. Because this same ferocious beast was able to tear off his throat with its fangs, under the blow of the emotion. Because Derek was an adult, but he still couldn't control his fucking emotions.

Because.

Yet, underneath all the hatred and emotions that seemed to overwhelm the shifter in his head and body, the werewolf managed to remain himself enough to notice that the forest had come to life and his wolf inside had laid down, ears low. In his throat, a dull growl sounded almost faintly, and silence followed, while the wind still sang its anger and, in the bushes, there in the shadows, Stiles was sure he saw a pair of eyes as if glowing in the night.

"What have you done?" Derek whispered, stunned. "In the name of Gaia and all creation, Stiles, what have you... "

So maybe the man had realized, after all. He had always been a wolf, had been born that way, was surely familiar with all the legends that the mystical, magical side of the world had to tell little children before they went to bed. Maybe one day his mother had whispered to him before his eyes closed that they had nothing to fear, because Gaia watches over us, over you. She watches over her children, she and the Protectors. She and the Guardians . It was just a myth, a story, a tale, the kind Stiles had no idea about, because damn it. Wasn't he human ? And yet, at the very moment the chocolate of his eyes struck the carmine red of the lupine orbs... He knew. Somehow. He knew that Derek knew . Maybe not totally. Maybe not even a little. But enough that a semblance of understanding marked his face. Enough for his eyes to widen in astonishment and for him to take a step backwards; confusion smearing his face badly.

The wind only sang louder, of course. Not because he was angry. Not because it only wanted to punish the man who had dared to put a finger on the little protector, no. He sang and it was sad and sorry. It was pain and sorrow and Stiles' throat tightened. Because the pact said that no one was supposed to know and now Derek Hale knew. He was angry then. Angry at the wolf who was too curious, angry at himself for not being more discreet, more normal . Angry at Gaia and her stupid rules. Angry at the wind that wouldn't shut the fuck up for a second, angry at the voices in his head that had become silent, because they knew too. Angry against Eurydice, who, from the other end of the clearing, was staring at him between amusement and mockery. One: what are you going to make, from now on? silent, in her eyes.

Then Derek opened his mouth. Probably to make his cadet understand how stupid he had been to sell his soul to a deity as old as the world. Probably. Or not at all. But he was cut short before a sound could be heard in the hollow of his throat. With a step forward, a little abrupt and angry , the high school student had stepped forward, index finger pointed hard against the werewolf's large and freakishly muscular chest. It was then like a tornado, for the younger Hale.

"Don't you know how to mind your own business, Derek Hale?" said Stiles with a touch of hysteria in his voice. "Why? Why do you always mess up, Hale? Always. There's a fucking plan and it always takes someone to ruin my damn plans! Couldn't you just act like you do so well? Ignore me? No? Mister needed to be curious for once in his whole damn life. You had to. Damn it. I just- Fuck it, Derek. Do you realize what you've done? No, don't even talk!" He cut him off when the wolf opened his mouth. "Don't say a fucking word. Because I swear it's going to be bad for your hairy ass, no matter how fucking muscular and well molded it is in that... Jeezit. I-. That wasn't what I meant and- Shit. Hale. Shut up, you don't even have the right to make fun of me, get that look off your dirty hairy face. And don't say a word. Don't say a word. You have no idea what will happen if. If..dang it. Just don't fucking say anything."

Stiles was breathless and desperate at the same time. He caught up in a slightly hoarse and low tone, a bit broken and almost pleading.

"There must be a way. I..."

Stiles left the wolf to stare at Eurydice, further away.

"He doesn't know anything. Not exactly. Not even a little. He.. He doesn't have a clue, okay? Tell Her that he won't be a bother. I-, you have to tell Her. Because he really doesn't know anything and I was almost there. I was almost done, okay? It was only a matter of time. And... And I can still do it, right? I can do it. I'll get there. (He looked a little more confident, suddenly, as he added/requested:) Don't kill him, okay?"

The dryad said nothing, of course. Not even when Derek turned around to see who the hell Stiles was talking to. Not even when he had a movement of retreat in front of her and her appearance to say the least... destabilizing. Not even when understanding marked his face more than ever. And Stiles... Stiles who had not stopped babbling, his lips moving again and again, his voice carrying a little miserably. Because he'd come so close to getting it right. Because Derek had ruined everything and that the human was persuaded now that it would be necessary to kill the man to calm Gaia's anger. He could be smart, thought Eurydice hardly jaded, but at the end of the day, he reminded dumb.

Derek grunted his name while staring at him like a guy who waits for a good fucking explanation. But the human waved his hand, as if he was chasing a particularly annoying fly, for any answer. One quiet: shut the fuck up. Basically.

"You don't get to speak, sourwolf. It's your fault, okay? All of it. Because you can't stop Deucalion and his band of freaks. Because you're only curious when it suits you. This is on you, Derek Hale. "

Anger paint his face again, fear embracing his being. To think he wasn't even worried about Derek himself. No. It was..- He was scared of him, okay? The wolf was scaring the hell out of him, was barely supportable, barely likeable. Yes, he'd had a pretty crappy life, yes it was sad, yes, anything you wanted. But. Stiles was scared, okay? Not at all worried about this guy who he spent his time saving... and well maybe vice versa too. But that wasn't the point. Stiles didn't want to be responsible for another death, okay? . Not when it was hi deal and his plan and his decision.

So he spun around, his step digging into the grass under his feet like folding a sheet of paper and, his mouth mumbled and, his fingers were twisted a little in every direction and, his hands went through his hair, or at least, the spike that was starting to grow.

"Stiles," Derek called out once more. "What's going..."

"Don't ask!"

"Don't give me any orders, don't forget that.."

"You're a big bad wolf? taunted the teenager.

With pursed lips, Hale didn't say a word. The human was right, after all. He was the predator, always, the wolf. And the kid, the prey, again, the human.

"You have no idea what I'm capable of, Derek. You have no idea."

"Intelligence isn't everything, Stiles," the werewolf retorted wearily.

Anger filled the teenager at once. Anger and... a sense of injustice. Because it was, isn't it? Unfair. Just because the other was a big, strong adult. Just because he was born with the genes of a wolf. Just because his hair could grow, his teeth, fangs and claws were deadly. Just because he didn't have any of those things. The anger was there. Buzzing in his veins, because the moon was approaching, the one that would be decisive. Because he felt under pressure, because he felt like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, even though, in fact, it was only the lives of his loved ones. A bit of all this, made him suddenly raise an arm. Only an arm, in a so sudden way, that, neither Derek nor even Eurydice, had the time to react. He had raised his arm and the forest had come alive at his call. The ground had started to crack under the feet of the werewolf and branches, lianas, leaves, a little of everything, had extracted from it to come to wrap itself around his ankles, legs, thighs, waist, chest, shoulders, arms. Around his body. Basically.

His fist was clenched as he stared at his elder with more anger than he'd ever felt, with more frustration than he'd ever felt. It was just that. And, he breathed in. He took a long deep breath, his eyelids half-closed, trying to regain some sense of calm, knowing that he had just, without a doubt, condemned the alpha.

"You have no idea what I'm capable of, Derek Hale," he repeated, his voice a little broken. "Not the slightest."