Stiles and Nadia trained every day, studying unknown magical creatures, learning the properties and effects of witches potions, and harnessing his powers. Over time, Nadia realised that Stiles was way, way more powerful than any spark she knew. But why? He was definitely a hybrid, he had another form of magic. She hadn't experienced anything like it, and that scared her.
He had finessed skills that had taken her years, and he continued to excel, in witchcraft, potions, and every other kind of magic she had covered. Deciding to wait until the end of his training, Nadia continued to teach Stiles, extending his knowledge, and hers.
As soon as she'd researched a subject to teach him, his ravenous thirst for knowledge consumed them, and somehow, miraculously, he'd mastered it. But the process was fun and exhilarating, and both of them slept with the knowledge that they'd both made a new, good friend.
Sometimes, they stayed in their clearing well after night had fallen, meeting the mysterious, ethereal forces guarding Beacon Hills Forrest. Peter and John came too, and the four created memories lit by candles and framed by the abundance of magical nature twisting through the forest, forming a strong, unbreakable bond, pack. Six months passed with Nadia visiting every few days, but it felt, odd. Seeing her leave after every lesson left a pang in the chest of all the awaiting members, and Nadia felt it too.
On a slow weekend, the four lay silent under the shade of the dense foliage, light dwindling and a cacophony of nightlife greeting their succumbing ears. The smell of damp greenery drifted through the air, and the hum of the animals habituating the forest created a familiar ambience, much preferred by them all to that of the town that remained, miles away. Sitting up slowly, Nadia combed tired fingers through her unruly hair, tugging through the knotted curls in exasperation. Stiles looked up at her worriedly, squinting through the dusky light at her silent frame.
"All good?"
She looked down at him, almost startled by his attention. Crossing her legs, she fiddled nervously in her lap. "Yeah. I am. But...I don't want to leave again." She looked pained, staring at the ground. Stiles eyes widened, and he smiled sadly at her. "I...I'm sorry for getting attached, I'm teaching you, I'm not supposed to befriend you!" She pulled angrily at her shirt and didn't see Stiles hurt look. Peter and John slowly sat up, looking at her now.
"You're, you're attached?" Stiles asked quietly, an incredulous look fleeting across his pale face.
Nadia blushed darkly, looking simply at the floor. "Yeah...I guess I am."
Stiles snorted, shocking her, she watched as his giggles turned into full-blown cackles, and indignantly pushed his shaking body.
"What?" She looked unsure, wondering if she was imagining the friendship she'd developed with him.
"You're attached?" Nadia nodded quietly at him. "So am I! We're friends, Nadia!" Stiles looked incredulously at her again and smiled softly as a small smile worked its way onto her face. "And I don't want you to leave either..."
Nadia hums in agreement. "Thanks." She says sarcastically, but Stiles sees her grin, and he knows she's grateful. "But I don't want to keep flitting between you guys and Penny." Her voice tapered off to a mumble, and Stiles nodded slowly, understanding how hard it must be, he wouldn't want to leave Peter-his pack, like that! Penny was Nadia's wife, and the two were inseparable, the empath and druid bonded happily for the past three years. Nadia never stopped talking about her, and Peter spoke highly of her- a feat which not many had achieved- she sounded lovely. But what was Nadia's point?
"I've spoken to her about this...and we thought..maybe if you didn't mind...we could find a house down here? We could live nearby! I can continue teaching you, and maybe...we could join the pack?" She sees Stiles shocked face and misinterprets it. "I'm really sorry if I'm not seeing things correctly, but I really thought we'd gotten closer, y'know?" She trailed, off but her quiet voice rung through the clearing. "It's kinda sad, but you guys are my closest friends. A lot of people stopped talking to me after meeting Penny. Her Vitiligo really seems to unnerve people. I guess it shows you my real friends are, huh?" Her voice turns angry, wobbles slightly, as she tries to stop angry tears from escaping over her hot cheeks.
Peter, John and Stiles frown, any on behalf of the woman who means so much to them, and looking at each other, they make a silent decision, before shuffling over to Nadia, and hugging her tightly. The four silently bask in the intimacy of the moment, and Nadia smiles wetly into Stiles' shoulder.
Peter smiles broadly at her, looking square into her watery eyes. "You and your wife are, and always will be welcome in this pack." His voice darkens, and he bites down on his anger. "No one will ever be treated so poorly because of how they look in my presence, certainly not the loved one of the amazing and respectful Nadia. She chuckles miserably and sheepishly wipes tears off of her face. "People judged me from the burns covering my face, and I know," He laughs bitterly. "Trust me, I know it can really change your view of yourself, and not for the better." He meets her eyes again, smiling softly. "So of course, we would all be incredibly honoured if you joined the pack!"
Stiles and John laugh delightedly, clapping loudly after Peters' speech, and Nadia joins in, laughing happily. Stiles hugs her again, and she melts into his embrace. John clears his throat, his gruff bass grabbing her attention immediately.
"Lots of my...former friends...stopped speaking to me or coming round to see me when my wife had dementia." His voice cracked, and he ignored Stiles stricken face. "I think they were...scared...of her. I know it can be hard, really hard, being isolated like that. But you're right. It shows how worthy they were of my friendship." His joke falls flat, and the three stare sadly at him.
"Oh, dad..." Stiles voice trembles and he grips his father's hands tightly. "I'm really sorry..."
The Sheriff smiles sadly at him, shaking his head fondly. "You've got nothing to be sorry for, kiddo. It's over now, and I've got my pack, right?" John, Nadia and Stiles nod enthusiastically, leaving the older man with a sense of belonging he had missed for a very long time, since Claudia. The Sheriff frowns absentmindedly, gazing at his pack mates, seeing them, but not registering them.
Settling back onto the grass, John patted the ground next to him, beckoning to the three. A comfortable, yet sad silence settling over the clearing. Minutes pass by in silence, and Stiles closes his eyes, letting a content sigh spill over his lips. He feels the slight breeze drift over his exposed face, tickling bare feet, and rippling through his hair. No one speaks. Forests like this one hide many mysteries, and this one held a cavalcade of peculiar and mysterious, their far-off howls and rhythmic humming lulling Stiles into a peaceful slumber. Surrounded by his pack, he knows he's safe.
Gradually, he shifts into a lighter sleep, before slowly, pleasantly waking up fully. He keeps his eyes shut, hearing hushed conversations of the pack around him, and groggily he realises he's lying on a coat, and under another. Peters? The thought proves too tiring to think about, so he drifts again, hearing snatches of conversation, quiet chuckles and reverent whispers. Finally, his ashen eyelashes fan rapidly across his porcelain cheeks, and he opens his eyes, looking into the inky black night. Suddenly, he inhales sharply, sitting up and staring at the sky in alarm.
"What the hell are they?" He half shouts, gesturing wildly to the floating orbs that blink lazy twinkles of yellow light, circling the clearing above him. "Nadia...? Fairies?" He whispers now, the alarmed look growing to a surprised wide-eyed stare, and Nadia grins wistfully.
John snorts, shaking his head, and Peter chuckles, Stiles, looking incredulously at them as he hastily gathers his clothes wondering why Nadia isn't preparing for confrontation.
"No!" She smiles, grabbing his arm and pulling him back onto the floor. "Fireflies. Normal, non-magical fireflies." He wilts, sinking back into the grass, whilst the worry clears the furrow from between his brows.
"Oh..." Stiles settles back onto the floor slowly, looking sheepish.
"Well done, though, you remembered! But these guys are safe, and beautiful, too." Stiles turns to look at her and sees her upturned face smiling into the dark sky. Her face is lit by the fireflies, and the soft lights twist and turn over her face, a peaceful, truly beautiful miasma of nature.
He observes Peter, now, and watches the Were sitting quietly next to John, absorbed with the flying orbs of light. He looks over at Stiles then, maybe sensing the boy's eyes on him.
"Hey," Peter says, his voice husky and low, the gravelly bass quiet in the dark of the night. Stiles smiles.
"Hey."
"You've been asleep for a while..." Peter hums, shifting his boy towards him, now sitting just a few steps away. Stiles grimaced, laughing quietly.
"Oops?"
Peter smirked at him, and the two shared a silent, intimate moment of realisation. They'd done it. They'd gotten better! Maybe not healed completely, but they were on their way now...they had a pack, perhaps an unusual one - one wolf, a druid, a human, and an undetermined magical force - but they were strong, and their bonds were rapidly growing, more stable than those in the old Hale pack.
Finally, Stiles was happy! He was in a better pack, where they loved him, just as much as he loved them. The thought made him beam, and Peter cocked his head in enquiry, but Stiles just grinned, shaking his head. They all knew how far they'd come, they knew.
Hours later, the pack walked slowly, happily, back to the Stillinski house, led by a flame cupped in Nadia's hand, they stumbled through the darkened yet friendly forest, back to the pack house. Back to euphoria.