For AuroraDannon, who wanted to see how I'd write the Nogitsune... I never planned on actually going into this particular season (or half season, whatever), and in the end, this is as close as I'm willing to get to that particular mess. Hope you like it.
There's very little action in this fic, but that's how my muse wanted to write this. I hope you'll enjoy it regardless, and particularly the last scene which, I have to say, was a surprise even for me!
If someone wanna knows more about the Minor Character Death... it's actually two characters, neither of them major in this (or any of my) fic(s). If someone really wants to know who it is, check notes at the bottom (beware possible spoilers!).
Benediction
It's not easy. He doesn't know if he's sleeping or awake. He never knows lately. And since his 'little nap' in the hospital, or more like, since finding that firefly in the pocket of his jeans, which turned into ashes and then nothing at all the moment he dropped it… he knows something's wrong with him. Actually, he probably knew it even before then. What with the irritability, and the panic attacks, and the 'sleeping eight hours in three days'… he might have been in denial, for the most part. Half-convincing himself that if he were just to believe it strongly enough, it'd end up being true. That he'd be alright. It could work! He's a spark, magic such as his is all about believing… only he doesn't believe it, deep down he doesn't actually believe he's alright. So when he once again opens his eyes, not knowing where he is, how he got there, or really anything at all, he pulls his cellphone out to call for help.
He briefly considers calling Scott, very briefly, more force of habit than anything else. It doesn't take him long to remember that calling Scott usually ends up being pointless. He might not be dating Allison anymore, but he's getting very close to that new student: Kira Yukimura… which is awesome really, Kira's great. And as long as her family doesn't end up being supernatural hunters or something like that, she's gotta be better than Allison-freaking-Argent (so maybe Stiles has a bit of a bone to pick with Allison, with pretty much all the Argents really, but that's not the point!). In any case, the chances of Scott even answering his phone aren't very high, so he scrolls past his name. He considers calling his dad, but while he'd most definitely answer, and do all he can to help Stiles… he's not sure how much that'd end up being. Isn't sure his dad's spark would be enough to track him down, especially when Stiles cannot help because… there's something wrong with him and he has no idea what!
Stiles wants to call Derek, wants to so much… but Derek's finally made it out of Beacon Hills and he won't be the one to pull him back into their insanity, that wouldn't be fair. Derek deserves better than that. And as much as Stiles might want him, might love him… or more like, precisely because of that, he won't do that to him!
So in the end the choice is an easy one to make. There's one person Stiles knows who's never failed him. Who's always done her best to be there for him. Even if most of the time she cannot do so physically, she's still, in every other way, present, his sister in every way that counts (just like he once considered Scott his brother, once but no longer, not for a while now…). He hits his speed-dial and waits. He doesn't have to wait long:
"Mieszko…?" A sharp voice answers on the other side.
"Sofiya…?" Stiles murmurs in return, unable to help the hitch in his breathing.
"Mieszko!" She cries out, immediately picking up on the fact that something's wrong. "What's going on? What do you need?"
"Sofiya… I… I need your help… please…"
xXx
The next time he wakes up… it's like he can finally breathe. He inhales and can almost feel the air filling his lungs, there's no ghostly pressure on his ribcage, no feeling of eyes watching him from the shadows, no sense of being not-alone inside his own head… that last one was the worst part. He, who despite the ADHD and the way his brain can sometimes be a mess, he's always held his mind as the most important attribute. He's always known that if the time ever came he'd be willing to sacrifice almost any part of him: an arm, his legs, his sight… but his mind? What would he ever do without his mind? Who would he even be?! All he is, is connected to his mind! So the thought that he might be losing it, bit by bit, that he might be going crazy… it was more than he could bear.
He knows what some people feared, Melissa especially. Realized it after he thought back to the list of symptoms she questioned him on. It wasn't only about sleep-deprivation. Being unable to read has nothing to do with that (except for tired eyesight, but that wasn't it). No, he's quite sure Melissa was starting to believe that he might have Frontotemporal dementia. The same thing his mom was said to have died of. Of course, that's only because there's no way to explain magic to most doctors. They saw her symptoms and diagnosed the only thing they could think of. No way to explain to them that there was nothing scientific about it, that it was a curse… one that she brought onto herself in many ways…
The third thing he notices upon waking up (after his ease to breathe and the clearing of his mind) is the smell of roses. He's not a wolf, no, but then again, what he's picking up is not exactly a natural scent; rather an attar that a certain someone he knows likes to use in place of perfume (and to mask her natural scent, along with most chemosignals). He sits up slowly, noticing that he's on his own bed, in his bedroom, wearing nothing but his boxers. He stands up before the mirror, checking himself over, front and back. He looks alright, no new scars, or marks… or almost none, there's one, a very small one, looks almost like a tattoo (and that in itself is telling, as his actual tattoos are supernatural, and thus don't look quite like normal tattoos unless he wills them to). He knows there's power in the little symbol and supposes it must be connected with whatever it was Sophia had to do to help him…
He picks up the first articles of clothing he finds: a soft, gray t-shirt, a red and black plaid shirt he leaves open, jeans and gray socks. He doesn't put on shoes, but he rarely does inside his own house; and he only wears socks when the weather is a bit on the chilly side, making the floors colder than usual. He steps out of the room very carefully, making sure not to make a sound as he heads towards the stairs. He wants to know what's going on before people notice him:
"Is this normal?" That's his dad talking. "Him not waking up?"
"Considering how little he must have slept since that… that thing got its hooks into him, yes, it's perfectly normal." Sophia answers in soft, gentle tone. "He's making up for a lot of sleepless nights." Her tone shifts slightly, giving away what must be a smile, "You need not worry, Uncle Noah, Mieszko will be alright, I promise."
"Uncle Noah…?" Someone else asks, it takes Stiles several seconds to realize it's Peter.
"Well, he's not actually my uncle, not by blood anyway." Sophia says with a shrug. "I lost all my family when I was very young, in the war. My older sister sent me to a friend of hers, giving up her life to cover my escape. Her friend smuggled me out of Bulgaria and to an American couple who were on vacation at the time. They were aware of the supernatural, despite being mundane humans themselves. They willingly took me in, got me into this country and looked after me until my heritage manifested and I needed to find someone to train me."
"As a High Druidess," Peter finished for her.
"Only a druidess at the beginning of course." Sophia says calmly. "My teacher was the one to introduce me to Uncle Noah, and to Mieszko…"
"Why do you call him that?" Another female voice inquires.
This time it takes even longer for Stiles to recognize it but when he does all he can think is: what the hell is Cora doing back in Beacon Hills?! When did she even arrive? He's still obsessing over that when he hears the voice of yet someone else he doesn't expect, someone he half-believed he'd never be hearing again…
"Mieszko… Mischief! It's him, isn't it?"
Stiles's mind is still trying to re-start after the shock of learning Derek's right there, in his living-room, and then to hear him use that old nickname… no one has called him that since his mom died, Stiles wouldn't allow it!
"How do you know that name?" Noah asks, and his voice sounds just a little strangled.
"It's what she called him, his mom." Derek answers, voice abruptly low, nervous.
"Derek…" Cora starts, she sounds truly worried.
"He's…" He breaks off, and for a moment Stiles thinks he isn't going to say whatever it is he was going to say at first, only… "You're my mate Mieczyslaw…"
Those words make Stiles stumble down the last few steps and straight into the sitting-room. All eyes turn to stare at him in shock, all but Derek, who's looking straight at him.
"I… I'm… You…" The teen forces himself to focus, take a deep breath, before finally blurting out: "You know?!"
"Wait, You know?!" Cora practically shrieks. "How long?!"
There's a part of Stiles (the petulant part of him) that wants to point out he already asked that, and is still waiting for an answer… but he knows Derek, better than the wolf probably realizes. So he concedes (this time):
"Since shortly after you became alpha." He admits. "I… I could tell there was something about you before that, practically since day one. But I just couldn't put my finger on what it was. And then… something changed, I don't know if it was the alpha spark, or something else. But the first time I saw you after that night, that's when I knew…"
Derek's eyes widen abruptly, just for a second, before his whole expression goes downcast. Stiles knows exactly what he must be thinking and is upon the wolf immediately, holding his face with firm but gentle hands and making him look straight at Stiles.
"Hey…" The teenager murmurs softly. "Don't do that. Don't go to that dark place inside your head. It's true I didn't tell you, but it's not for any terrible reason, I promise." He takes a deep breath. "It's… well… at first I wasn't sure you even liked me, not really. After all the shit Scott and I pulled."
"You apologized," Derek reminds him.
"I did," Stiles nods. "That doesn't mean you had to like me. After… after we started working together, and especially after the pool, I thought there was something, even if you never said anything. In the end I said nothing, not because I didn't like you but… well, I was still seventeen, and I knew you would never agree to date me while I was a minor. I was going to talk with you after my eighteenth birthday but then there was the Alpha Pack, and Blake and… and then you told me you were leaving with Cora…"
"And you let me go." Derek finishes for him, tone soft, almost grieving, though thankfully with no shadows in his eyes.
"It was what you needed." Stiles shrugs.
"Hey Stilinski!" Cora calls sharply. "When's your eighteenth birthday?"
"It already was!" He answers in the same tone, grinning. "Last September!"
"You're eighteen?" Derek gasps.
"Ah… yeah?" Stiles isn't sure how else to answer that.
"Aren't you a junior?" Peter inquires.
"Ah…" Stiles understands the confusion then. "Yeah, but I was held back a year when I was still in elementary. In between mom's sickness, and her dying, and everything that came after I just didn't care much about school. So I had to repeat the year."
It's clear that no one knows what to say to that.
Stiles waits for several seconds, but eventually he cannot hold back.
"Will you tell me, how long you've known?" He asks, so very softly.
Derek just stares at him for several seconds, long enough that Stiles starts to believe that no answers will be forthcoming, and then…
"The first time I saw you it was in the park." He says, voice low and soft, as if sharing some kind of secret. "You were on a swing, saying something about how great it'd be to swing hard enough to manage a whole turn."
Peter sputters in disbelief, Cora snorts while Noah facepalms; he's probably the only one not at all surprised by Stiles's insane ideas, even as young as he must have been at the time.
"Your mother called to you then, she called you Mischief." Derek continues. "It took me a few days to realize who the two of you were exactly. I knew who you were to me… from the very first moment I laid eyes on you…"
Stiles stifles his first instinct: to feel offended that Derek never told him. There's something about him, about the softness, the underlying grief as he tells the story, Stiles knows there's more coming, something he's not gonna like. He's also quite sure it's not Derek's fault (even though he also has no doubt he'll be blaming himself for it, whatever it might be).
"I was so excited…" Derek admits. "Finding one's mate is something every wolf dreams about, and yet many never do… I told my mother."
"She didn't like it, did she?" Stiles can guess.
Really, in the time he's had to research the Hales he's come to realize things weren't quite as perfect as some might insist on claiming (maybe even on believing themselves). Stiles has wondered more than once if some of the stories that are told about them, especially about Alpha Talia Hale, might not have been colored in the aftermath of her death. Altered, if only slightly, by people wanting to make her into some kind of tragic heroine. It's… while Derek might never have said it, Stiles knows Laura cannot have been a good Alpha, not with how she abandoned Peter, in a human hospital, under his own name, and while suspecting that hunters might try to finish the job. And either she was so willfully blind (or stupid) that she didn't see how badly off her brother was in the aftermath of the fire; or, worse, she knew and blamed him for the loss of their pack. Also, Cora… she had to have known that Cora survived the fire, yet she never looked for her, what's more, she cut the bond to her! Leading Cora to believe her whole pack was dead, which was why she decided to run. And then there are the other betas; there were about half a dozen wolves who were part of the pack, yet weren't Hales. Of those six, only two were in the house at the time of the fire (they're also not in the official casualty report, as no one could have known they were there; instead they were listed as missing persons for years, before eventually being declared dead). Laura cut the bonds to the other four; as if the loss of most of their pack weren't enough, their new alpha then abandoning them, leaving them as omegas, if Alpha Ito hadn't taken them in…
So, Stiles knows that the original Hale Pack wasn't quite as perfect as some of the stories might claim. So when Derek tells his story, he's not quite that surprised:
"No, she didn't like it." Derek agrees, grieved. "She said that you were too young. I tried to explain to her that I wasn't going to try anything untoward. I… I just wanted to be around you. I'd have never hurt you. I…"
Stiles reacts instinctively, throwing himself at Derek, holding him as tight as he can, making low, reassuring sounds as he does.
"I know sourwolf, I know you'd have never hurt me, I know." He assures the wolf.
"She made me forget you…" Derek finally reveals. "Made me forget that you were my mate, and everything else about you."
"Oh sourwolf…" It pains Stiles, to hear that.
Especially because he knows that while the human side of Derek might have forgotten. The wolf is a different matter. Even without any specific memories, the wolf would have still known, at an instinctual level, that they were missing something. He wonders if perhaps that was what made him so open to Kate's manipulation and abuse… he wonders if perhaps even Paige might be in some way connected. It's never made sense to him, Derek being so pushy about wanting his girlfriend to be turned. But if he believed that it was the only way his mother would accept her…
Stiles has long since believed that Talia didn't like humans. She wasn't a supremacist, like other Alphas have been known to be in times past (including the alpha of the loup-garou pack that was in power before Vivian, the current Alpha); not even like the Argents. But still, she saw humans as being less than humans, believed the 'races' shouldn't mix.
Stiles can still remember what he said to his friends in the Order after first hearing about how, in packs of born-wolves, they had a habit of home-schooling them until high-school. It was why, despite them being basically the same age, he and Cora had never met before. Stiles knows that it has to do with safety, that young wolves are liable to shift at the slightest provocation; thus they cannot attend classes or even just be around mundane humans until they can control themselves. Even then, Stiles has always believed that at least some packs also do it so the children won't realize their families aren't exactly normal. And it's not just about them being wolves. Stiles has heard Derek call Talia mom, but Cora never does, she only ever refers to her as 'alpha'… as far as the teenager is concerned, that's rather telling. Great as Talia might have been as an alpha (and that's still debatable, at least in Stiles's book) she clearly wasn't that great a mother… or a sister. And that… that's one can of worms Stiles has long been debating whether or not to open. He originally kept silent about his suspicions because… well, they were just suspicions, and so much else was going on, and then the Hales seemed to have all left. But now… he's going to have to find a way to tell them. Tell them what he knows, and what he suspects…
According to the books he's been reading, the existence of the kanima is due to balance, a lack of it. It is, like Peter's research showed, a tool of vengeance, and of justice. However, it's not an abomination, there's nothing wrong with the person who happens to turn into a kanima. Yes, them turning into such shows a lack of balance, but that's it. Also, them being 'cured' usually means them becoming a full shifter, with no more need for a master (the need of a master happening due to the lack of balance); even then, their shift is still that of a kanima… Jackson having a wolf-shift meant that he had wolf-blood… Him being born human means his mother was human (which Stiles knew, her name was Maggie Miller, and she died in a car-accident in the preserve), but for him to have wolf-blood, that means his father couldn't have been Gordon Miller, as he was human, no, his biological father has to have been a born-wolf. A born wolf who slept with a human woman, right there in Beacon Hills (as there were no records of Maggie leaving the town at all the whole year prior to her death), about eighteen years prior? Stiles is pretty sure he knows who the biological father is, even if he has no proof (yet).
"How long has it been since you remembered?" Stiles asks eventually; he promises himself not to be offended if it turns out it's been awhile, he just has to know.
"A few days ago." Derek answers, tightening his hold on the teen, probably understanding the underlying insecurity. "I… I felt something, from the moment I became Alpha. But first I needed to control the power, and then there was Gerard, and the Alpha pack, and the darach… and then I gave up the alpha spark… I knew I wanted you but I was so fixated on not being Kate…"
"You're not." Stiles assures him. "You could never be Kate. She's a monster, a psychopathic bitch who I swear to you will burn in hell for the rest of eternity." He'll make sure of it. "You're a good man, Derek Hale…"
Derek tries to tell him that he's no man, but Stiles knows that and refuses to allow it. It might not be enough to change Derek's mind about it, not yet, but that won't stop him from trying.
The two young men stay on the sofa, cuddling, mostly in silence (except for a low sound, almost like purring, that seems to come from low in Derek's chest every so often, to which Stiles takes to responding with low, wordless crooning) for a while. It's Stiles's loud, grumbling stomach that eventually breaks the moment. Cora snorts, while Noah, Sophia and even Derek chuckle. Stiles is debating between his hunger and his desire to stay right where he is when there's suddenly a big mug in front of him, one that smells heavenly.
"It's chicken broth." Peter explains, as he's the one holding the mug out to him. "A bit spicy for flavor. I served it on a mug so it'd be easier for you to drink it."
"Broth?" Stiles asks in disbelief.
Do they really think a mug of chicken broth will be enough when he hasn't eaten all day?
"Mieszko, how long do you think you've been sleeping?" Sophia asks him unexpectedly.
"All day…?" He begins, and when turning to the window to see the lightening sky he adds. "And the night too. Maybe even two nights, not sure what time it was when I called you…"
"It was around midnight." Sophia answers, voice turning serious before adding. "A team and I… we were already on our way. I worried, after you told me how little you were sleeping, and everything else you were feeling. And the ritual that good for nothing… azen (ass)!" She hisses the last word in Bulgarian. "I knew something was wrong, so I was already on the way. Arek would've come too, but the FBI called him for help with one of their cases. I originally was going to wait for him in San Francisco but when you called me in the middle of the night…"
"Thanks, for not waiting." Stiles nods, finally giving in and taking a sip of the broth. "Oh man, this is delicious!"
Peter says nothing, though his ears go a little pink.
"You so gotta give me the recipe!" Stiles insists, as he drinks more deeply.
"What makes you so sure it's not from a can?" Cora asks, curious.
"You kidding me?" Stiles snorts. "If food out of a can tasted this good I wouldn't have needed to learn how to cook!" He's halfway through the mug when he starts slowing down, his stomach feeling fuller than he expected, which reminds him… "You haven't told me, how long have I been asleep? It clearly wasn't just a day and night, or two nights, whichever. Not if barely a mug of broth is all I can stomach."
"Three days." Sophia answers. "We found you relatively quickly, not even three hours after you hung up your phone. Still, it took us longer to find out what all was wrong with you exactly. The druid proved… uncooperative, so we had to research things ourselves. You said a few things while unconscious, kept reciting the same phrase over and over, a riddle…"
"When is a door not a door…" Stiles murmurs automatically.
"Exactly." Sophia nods. "One of my team, Hotaru, realized what it meant. So we set up the ritual as fast as we possibly could."
"What was wrong with me?" Stiles asks, finally putting down the mug, just a little of broth left at the bottom, pressing against Derek's chest, seeking comfort.
Derek for his part takes the mug from his hands, placing it on the nearest table, before winding his arms around his young mate-to-be, holding him tight, trying his best to show him that he's there, that he'll never be leaving him alone again.
"You were in the process of being possessed by a dark spirit." Sophia answers bluntly. "He almost fully had you, in fact. That's what your blackouts were about. It was him taking over, little by little. At first small things, like you losing control of one of your senses, and that feeling of being watched. Then came the sleepwalking, and that sense of sleeping yet not resting; it's because you were not sleeping. He was slowly getting his hooks into you, getting ready to fully take you over. In fact, by the time we found you all he needed was for you to cede control…"
"I'd never have done that." Stiles shakes his head in denial. "Gods know what he'd have done with my body then!"
"No?" Sophia asks, voice so very, very soft. "Not even to protect someone else? Your father? Your friends? The town?"
She knows she has him then. She knows exactly the kind of person he is…
"How was this even possible?" Stiles asks. "I'd have thought my magic would protect me?"
"It would have, usually." Sophia nods. "But not when you opened the door to it…"
"I opened the door?" His disbelief is clear. "Why the hell would I ever do that? It's absolutely insane! And…"
He remembers something else then. Sophia's mention about the 'uncooperative druid'…
"The ritual…" He murmurs in realization. "Fucking Deaton…"
"Language…" Noah mutters, though it doesn't sound like he truly expects much, it's more like he's doing it in automatic.
"Kurwa (Fuck)," He swears in Polish instead, which his dad still understands but anyway. "I knew the bastard wasn't to be trusted!"
Derek tries his best to comfort him, but is at a loss how to. He knows what happened, of course he does. And he doesn't want to think of what would have happened if he'd known at the time, because as much as he might respect the Sheriff, if he'd been in that room, when Stiles was pushed into that tub of ice water, when he died… Derek doesn't think he could have ever allowed it. Not him, not his ma… potential mate.
"You didn't have many options back then." Sophia reminds him. "We'd have never gotten here in time. You did what you could."
"I did." Stiles agrees. "And at the time I know there's nothing else I could have done. But afterwards? When the fight was over? I should have done something then. I knew the ritual was iffy at best. I should have looked it up, studied it carefully…"
"Deaton would have never allowed it." Peter points out. "If he was setting you up to be possessed by this evil spirit…" He turns to Sophia. "What kind of spirit exactly?"
"A being of chaos and vengeance; a dark, or void, kitsune, they're also known as nogitsune." Sophia explains solemnly.
"That… doesn't sound local." Cora comments, at a loss.
"It's not." Sophia agrees. "Hotaru's taken it to Japan, to the kitsune temple in Mt. Fuji, where they'll be able to deal with it. I also have someone researching past events in the area, seeing if we can find out where and/or when it came from exactly. Judging by what we were able to find when getting it out of Mieszko, the spirit was trapped in the Nemeton for many years, decades even." She focuses on Stiles entirely. "When you did that ritual, it connected to you."
"But why him?" Cora wants to know. "He wasn't the only one who did the stupid ritual, was he?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Derek asks rhetorically as he buries his head in the back of Stiles's neck. "Of the three who were part of the ritual, who's the strongest, smartest, the most powerful?"
"Stiles…" Peter murmurs, almost reverent, though he covers it with mischievousness almost immediately. "I did say you'd make a wonderful wolf… then again, when I said that I wasn't aware enough to pick up on your magic. It'd have been a shame for you to lose that…"
Yes, it'd have.
"Wait, you have magic?" Cora asks, very interested. "What kind?"
"Magic is… complicated." Stiles scratches the back of his neck, not sure how to explain things.
"Everyone with magic is said to have a 'spark'." Ever the scholar, Sophia decides to take over the explanation. "Magic users have different titles, not due to power, they're actually connected to their preference in the kind of magic used, and the medium. Like how witches and warlocks favor rhyming spells and mixing potions; using specific words and ingredients to achieve something. Druids prefer to use rituals to do their magic; it allows them for more control, more order, even if also can take longer than most other branches of magic. Elementals, like their name indicates, focus on manipulating the elements. Enchanters and Spellweavers tend to use their magic on objects, to create things like wards, talismans, enchanted clothing and the like; it's a very specific branch of magic, taxing, and very necessary. Sorcerers and Mages are the kind to go for bigger spells in shorter times, which they manage by essentially 'saving' magic in crystals and other focci in order to be able to do such things. All the different kinds of magic users can have very little power or a lot of it. It depends on a lot of things, from their aptitude, to their training, to their surroundings. As, while we all have some magic in us, we do need to draw on the magic of our surroundings. Only an insane person does magic drawing solely from themselves; that's a sure way to get yourself killed!"
"What kind of magic user are you, then?" Cora asks Stiles, still very curious.
They know already that Sophia is a druidess, she introduced herself as such from the start.
"Like Sophia said, all who have magic are said to have a spark." Stiles takes over the explanation slowly but surely. "This is because the word is used as a general term. There are some individuals who have so little magic they cannot do even the most simple of spells, or potions, or rituals. They are referred to as sparks, because the potential is there, even if most other magic users will never recognize them as their equals. Most tend to use their magic in small ways, to help them heal a little faster, endure a bit more, put in a burst of speed, or some additional strength when they really need it…"
So many stories are known, about the mother who suddenly found the strength to push a car off their infant son… or the man who moved just in the nick of time and managed to avoid some terrible wound… the firefighter who instinctively chose the right path in the middle of a terrible fire, despite not being able to see a thing through the smoke, and made it out alive… the elder sibling who knew their younger sibling was in trouble… so many stories. Some people call it luck, others 'godly intervention'… magic has many names, in the end.
"Or to be able to tell when someone's lying to their face…" Noah quips with a hint of a smirk.
Peter, the first of the Hales to understand the implications of those words, laughs uproariously.
"You have magic too!" Cora cries out in realization a moment later.
"An unfair advantage is what he has," Stiles mutters with fake annoyance.
"And what do you call yours?" Noah retorts.
"My well-deserved inheritance from the Stilinski side of my family tree!" Stiles states in a very dramatic fashion. Then he finally turns to address Cora. "Of all the words used to refer to the many different magic users, 'spark' is perhaps the most misleading one. Because it is used to refer to anyone who doesn't fit with any of the other labels. Most don't fit because they have too little magic to do anything of the better known branches of magic. But just like there can be witches, enchanters and mages both weak or strong. There are those who may not fit with any of those labels not due to a lack of magic, but because they… because we, choose not to limit ourselves to solely one kind of magic."
"Only you Stilinski…" Cora mutters as she understands what he means.
"What can I say? I'm a special little snowflake." The teenager deadpans.
Derek snorts quietly.
"Well, I always knew you were one very special snowflakes, sweetheart," Peter says, tone full of implications and completely ignoring Stiles's mutter of Creeperwolf and Noah's eye-rolling. "But to be honest, I always believed that it came from your mother's side of the family. After all, there had to be a reason why Claudia Gajos did not exist until she was sixteen years old and even then only until she married a dashing, American soldier posted in Poland, by the name of Noah Janusz Stilinski, taking his name…"
Silence greets his comment. Stiles looks at his dad with wide eyes, he too is looking more than a little shocked. Then they both turned to look at Sophia.
"It's up to you Mieszko." She tells him, in Polish so as to allow for some privacy.
"What?!" Stiles cannot hide his shock. "No! It's not… I'm not… I haven't…"
"Tell me Mieszko, will you ever love someone else?" Sophia asks him very, very softly.
She already knows the answer, they both do.
"I joined the army straight out of high-school," Noah decides to be the one to tell that particular story. "Signed up for a post overseas, wanting to be as far away from the old bastard I was forced to call father as I possibly could. I was posted in a base in Poland. When I met Claudia she was 17 years old and attending Vocational School. I was on my leave, taking the time to see more of the beautiful country I'd been sent to. I first met her on my second day of leave and spent every single day with her. By the end of it she was offering to run away with me." He shakes his head. "I wanted to do right by her. I loved her. It was insane! We'd known each other less than a month and I was sure I'd never before loved a woman like I loved her and I never would again. I wanted to marry her. Wanted to build a life with her. And like I said, I wanted to do things the right way. My father might be an abusive bastard, but my mother raised me the right way. I told her I'd go to her father, tell him who I was, how much I loved her, ask for her hand… She told me then that it'd be pointless. Her father was an old man, very set in his ways, and too busy with his own job. Something highly classified. She herself hadn't seen him since she was sixteen, when she left home, changed her surname to that of her mother and moved to Poznan, where I met her." He exhales. "She was only seventeen, but a lot of people knew her, knew she lived alone, that she studied and worked. They signed up on our marriage license and then we moved together into military housing right there in the city."
It's clear as he speaks, with eyes closed and a soft smile on his face, that Noah's remembering that time very clearly, able to picture it in his mind as if it had just happened.
"We lived there together until the following summer, when my unit was sent to Iraq when the Gulf War happened." Noah continues. "After it ended I was given the option for an honorable discharge and took it, deciding I'd had enough of war. I was willing to stay in Poland, but Claudia insisted that there was nothing for her there. I found out the old bastard had died while I was in the war. Didn't much care, except that it meant I actually had something to offer her. We came here, to Beacon Hills and started a life here. I became a deputy, at the same time I studied for my degree in criminal justice, she got a job at the library. It was a good life. Having a child ended up being harder than we ever expected, but finally in September of 1993 our baby boy was born…" He takes a deep breath, knowing the next part's gonna be hard. "Ten years later, after weeks of sleepless nights, irritability, terrible migraines and general confusion I finally convinced Claudia to go to the doctor. After almost an entire month filled with all sorts of exams, tests, questions and the like, she was finally diagnosed with Frontotemporal Dementia."
"What's that?" Cora eventually asks.
"It's a term that's used for a number of disorders that affect, as its name indicates, the frontal and temporal lobes of the brain, which are the areas generally associated with personality, behavior and language." Stiles explains, doing his best to stay completely neutral. "Basically, when someone has this kind of dementia, those parts of their brain just… shrink. They deteriorate, making it so they forget things, from very basic ones like the fact that they left something on the stove, to why they were at the grocery store… or that they had their son with them at the time…"
Cora's horror grows more and more as she hears that. And she's not the only one.
"Of course, the doctors only gave that diagnosis because it was the only explanation they could think of." Stiles continues, forcing himself to speak past the knot in his throat; it's been so long and yet the grief will never, ever, go away. "Not knowing about magic there's no way they could have known any better."
"Magic…?" Cora asks quietly, confused.
"A curse, of a sort." Stiles explains, vaguely.
"Of course, we didn't know anything about magic ourselves at the time." Noah thinks it's very important to mention that. "It's… we tried all we could, to help Claudia. But in the end there was nothing we could do. She stayed at home as long as she could, but a moment came when she started to become a danger, to herself, and to our son… in one of her clearer moments she asked me to take her to the hospital. Begged me not to let her hurt our boy again…"
Stiles sobs at that. He knows, of course he does. It's the only thing that can keep the memories of 'Monster!' and 'He's trying to kill me!' sometimes…
"She also asked me to call a number. Her father's number." Noah continues. "I needed only to say that I was Claudia's husband and she was in the hospital, and he told he'd be getting on the first flight he could get to California. Made it here in two days." Which was a record, all things told. "That was when I first met Mieczyslaw Wójcik… Klaudia's father."
The Hales immediately notice there's a difference in the way Noah pronounces his wife's name. What's more, Peter recognizes the name he claims is that of his father-in-law and he promptly sputters, almost choking on his own spit due to shock alone.
"Uncle Peter?" Cora and Derek ask, confused.
"The last leader of the Order… he was your father-in-law?!" Peter mutters, still in shock; then the rest of the implications hit him and he turns to Stiles with very wide eyes. "But that means… by the Moon! You're the next Seneschal aren't you?"
"Wait!" Cora demands. "What Order? What Seneschal?!"
"The Order means the Servants of Death." Stiles clarifies. "It's basically an ancient order that has existed… well, probably for longer than humans have walked this world, really. They were originally assassins, as simple as that. Some of the old writings refer to them as the Faceless Men. They followed their own rules, essentially claiming to serve death by granting its gift to those who deserved it; I've never been able to fully understand that. Things eventually changed when their leader at the time became the Alpha-Mate of the loup-garou pack. She was the one who changed things drastically; changes she then enforced through a blood-oath. She swore that the Order would no longer serve only Death, but also Justice. The oath was made on her line and on her blood, magically binding, to ensure it'd be upheld. That the Order would work to aid those persecuted, misunderstood, hunted… protect them from those so powerful most would never dare go against them."
"Wouldn't that make them, essentially, the hunters' hunters?" Cora asks, fascination in her voice.
"It's not that simple." Sophia speaks up for the first time since the story began. "We're at the service of Justice. That means that, yes, if a supernatural is suffering due to hunters, we move against them. But if humans are being hurt by supernaturals, or if hunters are being unjustly attacked by supernaturals… or even one supernatural attacking another. We intervene there too. We're to serve justice, always. No matter against who, or in favor of who." She gives a moment for that to sink in before adding. "What you talk about is the most common case here in the Americas, yes; not so much in Europe, or in the other continents."
Africa in general rarely ever needs them, the shadow world handles itself very differently there.
"An oath on her line and blood…" Peter starts talking out-loud, working through things. "An oath that should never be broken…" His eyes open wide as he reaches the correct conclusion. "And she walked away… oh…"
"Uncle Peter…?" Cora asks, confused.
Derek says nothing, just presses Stiles, who's crying silently, against his body; he's sure he's managed to reach the same conclusion as his uncle, and it pains him to realize how much the memory must still hurt his mate…
"Oaths made in blood, to an entire line cannot be easily broken." Sophia's the one to explain, voice soft and gentle. "And when it does happen, it's never without consequence. Being the only daughter of our last Seneschal, which is the title granted to the leader of our Order, Klaudia Wójcik was very much bound by that oath. And still she chose to walk away. She changed her name, first taking that of her mother: Mirele Gajos, who was a mundane human, and then to Stilinski, when she married Noah. She never breathed a word about the supernatural, the Order, or her own father. As if that alone were enough to change the truth. It wasn't. And because she chose to forsake that oath, magic itself cursed her."
Cora just stares at her, then at the Stilinskis, eyes very wide, speechless, not knowing what to say. But really, what could anyone possibly say to any of that? Hearing about a young boy losing his mother was bad enough, but learning that it wasn't sickness, it wasn't chance, but choice? Of course they cannot know if Claudia was fully aware of the consequences of those choices, but the fact remains that she made those choices, and her entire family paid for it… It's wasn't just her death, but all the ways the loss of her affected the rest of her family.
"It was my father-in-law that explained things to us." Noah adds. "I already knew about the supernatural, actually. My mother was a spark, and I was aware of my own status, even if my skill with it is very limited. The few times I tried to talk about such things with Claudia, she would side-step the topic. I guessed she knew but was against it for some reason and decided to respect that. Didn't see any need to insist. Really, with my limited power I thought it was unlikely our son be any different…"
Stiles snorts, to which his dad wordlessly agrees. They learned that lesson well.
There are some things they do not talk about. Like how the alleged 'mugging gone wrong' that took Mirele's life wasn't an accident at all, but a hit, ordered by the Argent Matriarch: Géraldine Argent. It was neither the first nor the last time that the Argents moved against the Servants in general, or the Wójcik in particular. The only reason Mieczyslaw never went after Claudia was precisely to keep her safe from his enemies. He could have never expected what her absolute refusal to have anything to do with the supernatural or the Order would do to her. Stiles himself will never understand it. He can remember, being in Peter's room and hearing the echo of his family crying for help (a help they knew would never come); seeing Kate dying and almost being able to picture all her victim's relief; he can remember standing before psycho grandpa-Argent and almost seeing, amidst the shadows of that basement, the ghosts of all the innocents he's murdered; seeing Julia Bacari's real face for the first time and being hit by both the memory of Kali's attack against her, and all her own crimes, her murder of innocents in an attempt to claim her vengeance… He cannot fathom how his mother could choose to stay away from it all if she ever had to experience something like that even once. And he knows it was probably stronger for him, being the heir apparent and all, and the only one left after the death of his grandfather; but his mom was part of the same lineage too…
Peter's the one to make breakfast when they all get hungry enough for it. Omelet french toast sandwiches for all of them except Stiles; who eats french toast with honey (actual honey, rather than syrup, as is his preference) and some tea.
They talk about all sorts of things, though nothing particularly important while eating. Probably not wanting to spoil their appetite. Yet again Stiles only manages to eat a little. Though it's still something, all things considered. With the days he spent unconscious, coupled with his magic working overtime to help him recover, he knows he'll probably be eating a lot in the next few days, though a little at a time; many small meals, rather than one or two big ones. It's alright, it's not like it's the first time he finds himself in a situation of needing to recover from something big (usually it's because he's done something stupid… which he'll insist wasn't the case this time…).
Somehow Stiles manages to wait until they're done with breakfast, Cora and Derek insisting on doing the clean-up afterwards. Sophia's on her second cup of tea, his dad probably on his third one of coffee, Peter the same except with tea, while Stiles himself has a second cup of tea, though he's using it more to keep his hands warm than drinking it anymore.
"What else has happened?" He finally asks, and after some extended silence adds: "I know something has to have happened which, duh, I've been sleeping for three days, of course things have happened but… I know something happened. Something big… what was it?"
The sheriff turns to look at Peter, Derek and Cora look at each other, then at him, none of them saying a word. And Stiles just know that whatever it is no one wants to tell him is most definitely big. Big and bad…
"Scott McCall is dead." It's Sophia who says it in the end.
"What?!" Of all the things Stiles could have expected, that wasn't one of them. "How…?"
"Well, once we knew for sure you'd be alright, and that Hotaru had the nogitsune under control I decided it was time to deal with Druid Deaton, before he did something else that might put you, the Hales, or someone else in danger." Sophia explains. "We went in intending to question him on a few matters, starting with your possession and what he might know about it, what ritual he'd chosen for the sacrifice-by-proxy… he tried to fight us the moment we stepped into the building so we were forced to defend ourselves. A revealing spell quickly showed us that something was very rotten in this town."
"Darach?" Stiles questions. He's always suspected something was wrong with Deaton but it was like whatever it was just wasn't… wrong enough, so-to-speak.
"No," Sophia shakes her head. "Though really the only reason he didn't qualify was because he managed to make other people do things, and believe it was their idea all along. Magic is all about intent after all. And just like that, someone believed poisoning a nemeton was a good idea, someone else believed cutting it down to be a good way to deal to deal with the issues the tree had," it only made it worse. "And on and on. That was when we decided that a Magical Tribunal was necessary. Also, that first reveal showed us that he had at least two spells on you, one on your father, at least two more on Scott McCall, and countless on the Nemeton, the Hale Pack and the territory in general. That was why we chose to accelerate things. I…" She makes a pause, adding, more softly: "I feared one or both of those spells might affect your recovery adversely."
"Thank you…" He murmurs kindly.
"In the end the Charmed Ones agreed to head the Tribunal." Sophia continues. "We warned Scott McCall of the situation. Suggested that he allow one of our healers to stick close to him, just in case. As we didn't know what might happen when the spells were broken. He refused to believe that Alan Deaton might have done anything wrong, repeatedly demanded that we release him, that we leave 'his territory', called us murderers, monsters, among other things. When Allison Argent tried to attack us we arrested her as well…"
"Which only made things worse." Stiles guesses.
"Definitely." Sophia agrees. "The Argent case is still pending, actually. Arek insisted we waited for you before handling that one. Christopher Argent at least knows enough to realize it's a bad idea to try and make demands of us, or attack us. So he's kept his distance for the most part. Though we do know he's trying to find some way to save his daughter; I think even he knows his chances aren't great. Not after her actions against the Hale Pack. Her case might not be as bad as to require us to deliver our gift directly… but it's still quite serious."
"The Argent Clan will be no more." Stiles declares, abruptly authoritative. "They've done more damage than good. The American branch was given a chance to prove they were different from their French counterparts, instead they've proven to be even worse."
"So be it." Sophia agrees solemnly.
"That doesn't explain what happened to Scott." Stiles points out once the solemn moment has passed. "I mean, he's a bit of a flake, and I've no idea how he ever became an alpha when he always hated even being a wolf but…"
"That's just it." Sophia intervenes, softly. "Scott McCall was never meant to be a wolf. Alan Deaton forced it. He spelled Scott to ensure he'd be bitten, and that the bite would take. He also took advantage of Derek's actions to save his sister from the mistletoe poisoning to steal the Hale Alpha spark and give it to Scott, making him an alpha. He had plans for the territory, plans he'd been working on for years, long before the fire even."
"He was connected to that too, wasn't he?" Stiles says, though he's not actually expecting an answer. "I always found it suspicious, that Kate Argent could get her hands on enough mountain ash to circle the whole Hale House. It's not exactly easy to obtain, and she'd have needed a lot of it, considering that she didn't have the kind of magic needed to make it work with the minimum amount; she needed a hell of a lot to create a barrier that would hold against a whole pack, especially one in their own territory, like the Hales." He only waits for a nod that confirms his words before continuing: "Scott was never meant to be a wolf, so what?" He realizes it right as he says those words. "Bite rejection? But… it's impossible…"
"Few people understand how bite rejection happens exactly." Sophia reminds him. "The best way to put it would be to say that some individuals just aren't meant to be supernaturals, and they will always reject any attempt to turn them into such. Why do you think it's so rare for hunters to become supernatural creatures?"
"I thought it was because they were meant to kill themselves." Derek points out.
"That's what they claim, though it's mostly to hide the truth." Sophia explains. "If someone truly rejects, at their core, the change, rejection happens. Hunters who do not wish to be supernaturals, will never turn, they'll die instead; however, if deep inside they don't really mind, they will turn. That's where that 'rule' comes in. In the end it's simply one more way for fanatics to remain in control." She shakes her head. "Scott McCall was never meant to be a wolf, and once Deaton's spells were broken… well, the alpha spark returned to Derek Hale, as it always should have; as it would have once he'd recovered from the ritual to save Cora Hale if Deaton hadn't intervened. Scott McCall, on the other hand, went into rejection; and because he refused to have anyone close by, there was no one who could help him. He died before he made it to the hospital."
"And Melissa?" Stiles asks, already fearing the worst.
"She's currently in the psychiatric wing of Beacon Memorial, in an involuntary 72-hour hold." It's his dad who tells him that part. "She was sent there after claiming, at volume, that you and the Hales were monsters who murdered her son. Since Scott was found, alone, on the street outside the Argent house, with no sign of attack; and it was well-known that you were at home, sick, and that the Hales are staying with us, no one bought her claims. Once the 72 hours have passed they'll decide whether to discharge her or remand to Eichen House."
"It won't come to that." Sophia assures them, at Stiles's horrified expression. "Helmut will be going in to see her tonight. She'll be made to forget she ever knew anything about the shadow world. For her own safety as well as ours."
"That won't stop her from blaming me." Stiles murmurs quietly.
And isn't that an awful realization to come to? That the woman he holds so dear, who for so long has been the closest he's had to a second mom, would believe him capable of something like that. It makes him wonder if she ever cared for him the way he cared about her… It's the kind of hole he knows he cannot fall into, least he never come out again. He needs to focus on those he still has. On those he knows love him, and whom he loves. He still has them, he always will.
It's not easy, but at least he'll try.
xXx
When he first wakes up he's confused. Not knowing when he fell asleep exactly. Also, the fact that he's not in his bed doesn't really help. He realizes he's on the back-porch of his house just a moment later, a realization that brings with it the memory of why exactly he's there: the Hales are staying at the Stilinski home. Derek left to go by the loft to pick a few things, and Stiles insisted on waiting up for him. Truth is he doesn't sleep well without his mate by his side, even if they're doing nothing but cuddling and sleeping (it's all they're ready to do at this time). A howl, Cora's howl, followed by Peter's, along with a sense of 'wrongwrongwrong' points to the reason for his waking up so abruptly; he also realizes that something's most definitely wrong with Derek… Which is why, even having no idea what might be wrong exactly, Stiles throws himself off the lawn-chair, runs through the backyard, vaults over the fence and straight into the preserve, without a thought. He knows what he's about to do is absolutely insane, but it's Derek… so, focusing his mind entirely on his mate, he takes three steps past the treeline, locates the closest telluric current, and dives straight into it.
It's a bit like flying, and falling, and almost like drowning all over again. It takes seconds, but when he's out once again, after a few moments stumbling and gasping for breath, forcing himself not to be sick as his whole body has to remember which way is up… he realizes he's still in the preserve, though an entirely different area, not far from Derek's loft in fact. Which means it worked! He managed to transport himself through the ley lines. Sophia's probably going to yell at him when she finds out what he did, or that he didn't wait to have someone looking after him, but Derek needs him… and with that thought he's pushing everything else aside and rushing out of the woods and straight into the building. The echoes of shots above him only spur him to move faster, especially when the last one is followed by phantom pain to his chest; he knows then that his mate has been shot. He needs to hurry!
The loft door is open, the place full of fog, there are bodies on the cement floor, hunters, some injured, others dead, but he pays them no mind, he focuses completely on his mate, on the other side of the loft, hands pressed to his bleeding stomach, and the one standing in front of him, the one who shot him (and who apparently took down a whole team of hunters).
"It's real… you're real…" Derek's saying, shocked and pained.
"That's right, Derek. And if seeing me is a surprise, watch this…"
Stiles recognizes that voice instantly: how the hell is Kate Argent alive?! The roar, a shifter's roar, that follows at least answers that. And then he's moving. That bitch has hurt his beloved enough, she won't get away with it again! Stiles won't let her! He sees the gun by one of the hunters. It's a Glock, like his dad's, the one he taught him how to use. Stiles makes a plan in less than a second (he's good at that), running past the hunter, barely slowing down enough to pick the gun, cock it; he aims using more his magic than his sight and is shooting before Kate can do it. His aim proves to be as impeccable as ever. Kate snarls, dropping the shotgun when a bullet hits her hand.
"Who goes there?!" She demands. "Reveal yourself!"
Stiles focuses a bit on controlling the wind so that when he laughs, his voice seems to come from all directions at the same time.
Kate snarls, head wiping around wildly even as she presses her injured hand against her chest. She's completely shifted, no control at all (and what the hell? Is her skin really blue?!).
"Show yourrrrrssself!" She lisps around a mouth full of fangs.
Stiles times his movements just right, throwing his left hand up, feeling the mountain ash of the special tattoo on the back of his left shoulder-blade brush the hairs on his arm a moment before the ash forms a perfect, tight circle around Kate Argent. Tight enough that once its set she realizes she cannot move an inch…
"Who are you?!" She snarls.
Stiles steps behind her, close enough for her to feel his breath on the back of her neck; though at the same time making sure not to disturb the mountain ash holding her in place.
"I'm Justice…" He whispers, practically in her ear.
Kate reacts instinctively, or at least she tries to. She makes to spin around to face him, only to realize that she cannot move even that much. She snarls wildly, demands to be let go completely lost as her shift makes her speech practically unintelligible.
"And I've brought you a gift, Katie," The spark continues, voice practically dripping with poison. "Wanna know what it is?"
He holds out his right arm, feeling the liquid-like substance slithering down to his hand, where it takes the form he wills it: that of a dagger, simple, the length of a hand-span. It's a perfect replica of his rowan-dagger (the one he carved himself as the final part of his training with the Order). In this in particular his magic works better when he can visualize what he wants; which means it's easier to replicate something that already exists, than creating something new. His rowan dagger is back in his bedroom. He didn't think to get any weapons before rushing towards his mate. But that's alright, he knew his magical tattoos would be enough. This one in particular is made of quicksilver (mercury) which responds very well to his magic, reshaping to his will.
"Death." He finishes, as he moves his arm in an arch, ending with the blade buried deep in Kate's chest, angled from under her ribs and upwards to go right into her heart.
It's not hard to tell when she dies, as the mountain ash stops holding her, allowing her body to fall in a heap. Stiles says nothing, just flicks his wrists, both the quicksilver and the mountain ash returning to him, slipping under his clothes to retake their previous shape on his back: a triskele on the back of his left shoulder-blade made of mountain-ash, and the triquetra on the back of his right one made of quicksilver.
"She's dead?" Derek asks quietly, he's seen to his own wound, taking the wolfsbane from the second shell in Kate's fallen shotgun.
"Yeah," The teenager nods. "For good this time."
It's his idea for them to leave. The hunters will wake soon enough, they can deal with Kate's body. Hopefully that will be enough for them to leave. And in any case, Stiles decides to leave a short note on Severo Calavera, detailing what will happen to him and his men if they do not leave His territory by dawn. A brass coin with the silhouette of a faceless head serves as a proof of identity. The Calaveras know better than to go against the Order.
The walk back to the Stilinski house is quiet, as Stiles is still processing his own actions, and the consequences they will have. He's killed someone. With his own hands. It's not that he regrets it, not at all. Kate deserved it, deserved much worse in fact. But he's killed now, which means that as far as the Order is concerned, he's an adult now. They'll have to make arrangements for his official ceremony. After all, he's just become the new Seneschal of Death…
"Are you alright?" Derek finally asks him right as they're about to reach the fence leading to the Stilinski backyard, where they can already sense their families waiting.
"I will be." Stiles answers honestly.
It's the start to a whole new life for him, for them both.
So, what do you think? Like I said before, I didn't actually plan that last scene, I was just trying to think of the right way to end the fic and I was halfway through the scene before I realized what I was doing! I enjoyed it so much!
Regarding the Minor Character Death... obviously there's Kate Argent, but did anyone expect otherwise once she came into the picture? The other one is Scott... I didn't go into this fic intending to kill him, but it just fit with everything else already going on. If any of you is a fan and dislikes my choice to kill him off... sorry, not sorry. Truly, I warned from the very beginning that I don't like him, or Deaton. Also, be warned that this will not be the last time I kill him in these stories (nor is it the first, but the other time wasn't in this series).
Regarding the Hale Pack (the original one). I believe they were neither of them as perfect as some might paint them as. That's my headcanon and I'm sticking to it. Talia was a good alpha (maybe) but a bad mom, his dad was less of a dad and more 'another beta'; it's my belief that Derek claims family and pack are the same thing because that's what he was told, but not how it actually was, which would explain why he had so much trouble with his pack. Because they, having been human, actually know what a family's supposed to be like, and what Derek was doing didn't fit. I also believe that Laura was a terrible alpha, either through neglect or actual abuse (it depends on your interpretation).
The next piece in this collection is in the works, though it's been giving me a bit more trouble than the first three, so while I will really try to keep posting weekly, I don't know how much longer that will be possible.
As always, blanket permission for any and all derivatives anyone might want to do of this (or any of my other fics) just remember to give credit where it might be do, and let me know so I can go look (and add a link to it!). If anyone's interested, I'm still open to ideas, suggestions, etc., for future pieces of this collection.
If anyone's interested, I have three original novels that are available through Amazon, I'd love it if more people were interested in the writing I actually get paid for (not that I don't love fanfiction, but a girl needs to make a living!).
Thanks for reading. Please don't forget to like/kudo/bookmark and review/comment! See ya around!