Stiles stared blankly at the tired, but still rather beautiful, visage of Mrs. Harley Hale nee Potter with shock. In all of his planning, none of them considered him running into a Hale until he was ready. Having the one person who he was legitimately terrified of, as well as in awe of, standing in front of him in what appeared to be lounge clothes, was not what he had in mind.

The younger man attempted to control his breathing as the signs of an anxiety attack occurring, made his hands shake and breathing quicken. What the hell am I supposed to do ?! He exclaimed loudly in his mind as he curled his hands into fists at his knees. His body screamed with aching hurts that didn't seem to want to diminish. "I -" he gasped out with a tightening chest. His lungs felt like they were being squeezed in a vise and closing his airways. He had thought he had gotten over these panic attacks years ago, but it seemed that they were just delayed until he was presented with something he had trouble accepting.

Harley frowned worriedly at the young man, who looks to be a few years older than her oldest twin sons, and bent down until she was balancing on the balls of her feet. A pale slim hand gently cupped Stiles' chin and lifted it up with the same gentleness she held his chin. "Take a deep breath in and let it out slowly," she tenderly ordered.

Stiles watched as Harley Hale demonstrated what she told him to do, and followed her example. For about a minute, the only noise heard in the Nemeton clearing was their slow inhales and exhales. He could feel the panic in his chest loosening at the delicate care Harley Hale was showing him. Usually Stiles didn't like to be treated like he was weak and delicate, but it had been so long since he had experienced a motherly figure showing concern and care about him. For a brief moment, he couldn't help but soak up the attention he was experiencing.

"Thank you," Stiles murmured in embarrassment. His cheeks flushed a light pink at showing his weakness. His golden amber eyes glanced to his left in awkwardness as he attempted to brush off his moment of vulnerability. "How did you know I was here?" He asked suddenly, as a moment of insight suddenly struck him. He had just realized then, that Harley Hale shouldn't have known he was here, especially not when it was late at night and he was in the Nemeton clearing, a place that very few knew about in Beacon Hills.

Harley hummed at the younger man's question, and considered her options. Considering the dead witches and warlocks had brought her here, this young man had to have some affiliation to the supernatural world. There was no other reason the nuisances that she called the dead, would have pushed for her to come here. Bright green eyes connected with golden amber and came to a decision.

"The non-living witches and warlocks who inhabit the Other Side, nagged at me until I got fed up and did as they asked," she sighed with exasperation and a roll of her eyes.

Stiles snorted out a laugh at her vexation towards the Spirits that consisted of past Witches and Warlocks. He knew exactly what Harley meant, as they too had done the same to him before, until he finally got so fed up with their incessant complaining that he did what they asked. "Yeah," he sighed, "do they always have to be so aggravating?" He asked without consideration that he wasn't supposed to be informing Harley Hale of all people, that he was aware of the supernatural.

Harley smiled in amusement at his question. The younger man had no idea just how nettlesome those particular non-living could be. "You have no idea, they can actually be worse," she replied with a huff of a laugh. There was a moment of silence, before Harley turned her attention to the young man again. "Now," she began carefully. Her brilliant green eyes watched as every muscle in Stiles body stiffened at the tone of her voice. She could see it pained him, but he didn't seem to notice as he watched her warily. As if she was a poisonous viper about to strike. "I know you're a time traveler, the Spirits blatantly told me that on my way here." Harley informed Stiles, who seemed to grow more tense at her words. "What I can get from those busybodies, is that you need my help for something ," she stressed with a frown, "though they wouldn't tell me what that something is. Just that you had to tell me."

Stiles frowned at Harley's words. Could he truly depend on Harley Hale to help him save the Hale pack from certain annihilation? She was the most powerful witch of this millennium. The stories he had heard about her, the supernatural history books that spoke of her exploits, had left him in admiration and intimidated. But the things he could learn from her, it made him feel a stirring of interest for the first time in years.

He gnawed on his bottom lip at his quandary. There was one side of him that did want her help. She was known as the Enchantress, the Green Witch of the Americas, and the High Priestess of Death and Magic to various circles within the supernatural community. Depending on who you talked to of course. She was not someone that he should just disregard when she was willingly offering him help. And yet, he was still hesitating accepting her assistance, and he didn't know why.

Harley could see that the younger man was struggling. That there was a conflict going on within him. With a groan, she sat on the dirt that covered most of the Nemeton clearing. Her feet were achy and tender from her long shift at the hospital, and crouching as she had been in front of the younger man hadn't helped her any. "I'm Harley Hale by the way," she introduced herself as she leaned back on her arms and looked up at the night sky. From here in the Nemeton clearing, far away from civilization, she could clearly see the brilliance of the night sky. It left her in awe every time to see such wonder and marvelous beauty.

Stiles startled at Harley's sudden introduction. Golden amber eyes turned to look at the strongest witch to date, enjoying the beauty that was the night sky. "I'm Stiles," he finally said with a pounding heart at finally coming to his decision. He had wanted to do this on his own, but with his powers seemingly out of his reach and being human with no real self-defense training, he was out of options.

"I had thought you looked familiar Mieczysław." His name rolls off her tongue smoothly as Harley looks away from the night sky and pushes herself up into a sitting position once again. Her green eyes are sharp and thoughtful as she looks at him. "You must have quite a tale to tell me about," she said with a tilt of her head, causing her dark hair to tumble over her shoulders. "But first we should get you healed up." The older woman stood to her feet and brushed the dirt off her hands and pants. She reached a hand out for Stiles to take, which he did after a moment's hesitation.

"Healing would be good," he agreed with a wince as his muscles tugged unpleasantly at his movements, sending a blinding flash of pain through him. "Rest would actually be really nice." Stiles added with a slow nod of his head.

Silently, the pair began to make their way back into the forest and away from the Nemeton clearing. It was a slow and steady pace the two made, neither was in a real hurry to get back to civilization yet. Stiles tried not to trip as he followed Harley down the dirt path, but couldn't stop himself when his foot caught on stray roots or branches that had fallen from trees. He muttered curses under his breath in frustration, and could hear the stifled chuckles that Harley was containing.

"Not very graceful on your feet are you?" She asked rhetorically over her shoulder.

Stiles grumbled as he tripped yet again, fighting the yelp that wanted to escape when he did. "I used to be, when I still had my magic at my disposal," he replied with a sigh. "I tend to use it as another sense for my surroundings and for agility."

Harley hummed in response to his reply. "Yes, I've been known to do that a time or two."

The younger man looked over at her with curiosity. He had read the stories about Harley Hale nee Potter, and was curious if any of what he had read about her was actually true. "I read about you," he began as he turned his attention back to trail he was walking. Even with the nearly full moonlight beaming down on them, he still struggled to see through the canopy of trees and their branches that hung over them like looming giants. "The stories that were written about you, they all had conflicting opinions about the things you've done." Stiles remarked as he continued to follow her in the direction they were heading.

Harley merely hummed at his remarks. Brilliant green eyes glanced over at him, her head tilted to the side as her raven black hair fell over shoulder in a tumble of silky black curls and partially obscuring her facial features. "So they do. Opinions on my person are often fickle. They either love me or love to hate me," she finally said as she turned her focus back onto the path. "Nothing bothers or terrifies them more, than when they're faced with someone who is an impossibility. They simply can't mentally comprehend it."

Stiles looked at Harley as he comprehended what she was telling him. He had always had a feeling that she was something more than just a witch, but had never truly been able to question anyone who had known her, about his suspension. That curiosity Stiles always had about anything and everything that caught his attention and interests, made him desperately want answers to all the questions that were bubbling beneath the surface. He wanted to be able to pick at Harley's brain, but instead of asking these questions, he asked something else that caught his attention.

"Where are we going?" He asked.

Harley glanced over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow at his question. "To my home of course," she replied in a tone that clearly said she thought it was obvious where they were heading, and had assumed he would know where they were going as well.

Stiles looked blankly at Harley. He was too emotionally, mentally, and physically exhausted to even attempt to get his brain working at a reasonable speed. He's had a hard night and all he wanted was to sleep for the next week. The younger man goes to say something, though he isn't sure what he would say when he's stopped by Harley Hale nee Potter holding out her arm in a protective gesture. He freezes as the gesture halts any further movement. Amber gold colored eyes look at the unnaturally still form in from of him.

He can't see anything, but he can just imagine those beautiful alert green eyes scanning the dark surrounding forest. Stiles can imagine Harley reaching out with her magic, searching for whatever had been caught on her radar. "What is it?" He asked in a whispery soft voice. He could barely have anything over the pounding of his suddenly racing heart. Amber gold eyes looked around the hiking trail, but could see nothing but the dark dancing shadows of the trees and the stark blackness that seemed to consume the Preserve.

"We're being watched," she murmured back.

Stiles' hair stood on end at her whispered words. The chill of the unsettling notion that there was something in the darkness of the trees, watching and waiting for a moment to strike, left his heart racing even faster in a quick tempo. His amber gold eyes rapidly scanned from left to right, in an attempt to see what Harley had sensed. He really hated the feeling of helplessness that settled over him at the notion that he was essentially worthless without his magic. At the moment, he was just a human with his wit and smarts to keep him going.

"Do you know who's watching us?" He finally asked, after his futile attempt to see in the darkness that surrounded them like a thick fog.

"No, what I can sense is obscured. It is as if a thick fog of darkness, deceit, rage, and hate cloud my sight and sense." Harley responded with a frown and furrowed eyebrows as she tried to see through the nebula of negative emotions.

Stiles bit back the remark of Harley being a Jedi Master, with the way she was speaking. From the twitch of her lips and a quick glance over her shoulder at him, she had clearly heard his thoughts loud and clear. "We need to keep moving," she suddenly states. Without another moment wasted, she grabbed his hand and gently pulled him along beside her. Her eyes constantly rove the surrounding hiker path, as if suspecting whatever was lying in wait to attack.

The unsettling feeling didn't leave Stiles as the pair walked at a steady pace for nearly twenty minutes. The whole time Harley remained watchful and wary, continuously on guard for this danger to do more than just watch. Stiles' jaw dropped as they stepped through the gate that surrounded the Potter-Hale Manor. The place was huge, and looked to be as big as the Hale Manor. It was three stories tall with what looked like an attic. The property surrounding it was massive, with built in pool and Jacuzzi, two green houses, a garden, a back porch that looked to contain a built in bar and grill with a long outdoor dining table with matching chairs, and diverging pathways, where one seemed to lead to the right of property with a handful of what looked to be tree houses that connected by wooden bridges. The outdoor lights were on, allowing for easy visibility.

"It seems Peter woke up." Harley murmured with a grimace. "He certainly won't be happy," she added under her breath as she walked down the pathway that led towards the backdoor. From the way she was acting, it was like she was an unruly teenager that had snuck out after her curfew and was caught trying to sneak in. It made Stiles interested to see just how different Peter was from the man he knew. Stiles followed after Harley, having no other choice really, as she hadn't released his hand yet. He honestly found the hold comforting in a motherly and protective sort of way. It was as if she was reassuring herself that he was safe and hadn't been harmed, other than his time travelling hop harm.

As soon as the back door swung inwards, the shrill sound of a crying baby reached their ears. Harley immediately released his hand as she took off at a steady trek through the expansive kitchen and pass a doorway that led to the room on the other side. The kitchen held a rectangular window of sorts, with an island with bar stools. The whole first floor looked like one open space, but was easily differentiated between, as Stiles followed after Harley, passing the doorway and into the living room.

Stiles paused in surprise, as he watched Harley gently take the crying baby into her arms. Peter Hale easily let the infant into the arms of his wife. His dark brown hair was messy and standing on end in certain areas. His bright blue eyes were tired and dark circles displayed the lack of sleep the werewolf must have been experiencing. He was shirtless, showing off the tone muscles and six pack he had. He wore only a pair of pajama pants in black. Why did all supernatural creatures have to be ridiculously beautiful?

"You were missing from bed." Peter was saying to Harley, his blue eyes narrowed with suspicion as he watched her soothe their youngest child. "Again," he added with a sigh. "What made you wander the forest at this time of night?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

Harley's green eyes flicked to where Stiles stood in the area that marked the front entryway, right before one stepped into the living room. "A visitor from a distant time," she replied dryly. Her lips curled into an amused smirk as she looked back at her husband. "The Witches and Warlocks from the Other Side felt it was imperative that I go and find him." A sigh released, exhibiting all the exhaustion she was feeling in that one sound. "I think we need to call for a family meeting." Harley stated as she swayed back and forth with her infant daughter.

"Oh joy." Peter grumbled with a roll of his eyes. As much as he loved his family, he had a huge family that made a mad house seem quaint. The very thought of having to call them all for a meeting, it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"I'll show you to a guest room, Stiles." Harley said as she walked out of the living room and towards one of the staircases that led to the second floor. Peter followed behind his wife, his sharp and intelligent blue eyes watched their guest with wariness. While Peter trusted his wife's judgement on many things, his wife had a soft heart for strays and the wounded. And this Stiles was clearly both a stray and wounded, if he ever saw one.

Peter glanced between his wife and Stiles, and finally spoke again when they reached the landing for the second floor. "Does this Stiles have a last name?" He asked in a tone that seemed like he wasn't entirely interested in the answer. When in fact, he was very curious about who this guest in his home was.

"I'll tell you more in the bedroom." Harley decided, before Stiles could say anything, though from the way he was swaying on his feet, he likely hadn't even heard the question that Peter had asked. "This is the guest room," she opened the plain white door into a warmly decorated room in light blues and browns. Stiles stumbled to the bed and collapsed onto it in a heap. "Here's the potions you can take, should the pain become too much," she added with a twitch of her fingers, three vials of varying colored potions appeared on the nightstand, along with a cold glass of water.

The couple left the room with a click of the door shutting and a force shield in an array of colors rising over it. Peter raised an eyebrow at the force shield and his wife. "It's more for his protection than anything." Harley muttered as the couple walked further down the hallway, before stopping at the nursery. Harley laid her daughter in her crib, brushing a soft hand through soft locks of brown hair, before stepping back out and continuing their trek down the hall into their bedroom.

The couple cuddled together on the bed, both of their bodies sinking the softness with relief. It was something they did every night. They would lay in bed, holding each other as they decompressed and relaxed into their comfortable bed. It was quiet for a while, before Harley spoke.

"His name is Stiles Stilinski," she murmured quietly into the darkness. "He came from a future that he wants to change for the better." Harley paused as she shakily released the breath she had been holding. Her head rested on Peter's chest while his arms wrapped around her waist. "If just the glimpses I saw in his mind is just a small amount of what happened...I don't blame him for wanting to change it Peter."

Peter gave a gentle squeeze of his wife's waist with his arms and leaned down to press a loving kiss to her head. He could hear the pain and sorrow in her words. If what she had seen, just a small glimpse of what the young man in their guest room had gone through, was enough to shaken her, then he wasn't sure he wanted the same thing to happen again in their future.

"We'll help him change it then." Peter decided, his resolve strengthened at the tension that released from Harley at his agreement, even before he learned what had happened. If there was anything he could do to lessen how upset she was feeling, he would do it, if only to make her happy. "I'll call Talia tomorrow and have her call for a Family Gathering."

Harley lifted her head and smiled at her husband. How she loved this man. He was her best friend, partner, soulmate, and the father of her children. She couldn't imagine a life without him in it. She didn't want to think of how she would react to losing him. Be it from hunters, a rival Pack, or from some sort of human or supernatural creature. She didn't think she'd survive it with her sanity in tack.

"In a few days then, we'll find out what we need to do from Stiles." Harley agreed with a sweet kiss shared between the couple. They would do whatever was needed to ensure that the tragedy that Stiles must have gone through, never happens, by any means necessary.