A/N: I want to say a huge thank-you to everyone who has followed, favourited, and reviewed this story! You guys are AMAZING and I appreciate you and the support you've given me very, very much. I loved writing this fic, and I hope you enjoyed reading it, too! Please read the author's note at the end of the chapter! :)


Scott turned Lydia onto her back and helped her sit up against the tree, trying to stem the blood flow that was seeping from her head with a ripped piece of fabric from his shirt. He knew that head-wounds always bled more than the actual severity of the wound, and he hoped that this was the case. She was falling in and out of consciousness, managing to open her eyes for only a few seconds at a time before closing them back again. Once she was settled, Scott turned his attention to Kira.

Kira was more awake than Lydia, but her attention span was short-lived as her eyes constantly fluttered between various spots around the clearing. Scott tried to get her attention numerous times, lowering his head and trying to catch her eyes and saying her name over and over again, but nothing kept her attention for more than a few seconds. Her behaviour worried him and he knew that they'd have to get her and Lydia to the hospital as fast as they could. He felt around the back of her head, looking for a bump, before finding one near the top. She moaned when his fingers pressed against it and she started to gag. Scott leaned her over to the side, waiting as she proceeded to throw-up. Panic beat loudly in his chest, knowing that he couldn't leave them here alone, while at the same time knowing that he had to find Stiles and he had to find the witch.

He dug his cellphone out of his pocket and pressed the button, only to find that his screen was cracked and the shell broken. With a growl of frustration he threw it to the side, running his hand through his hair as he struggled to figure out what to do; but before he was forced to make that decision, he suddenly heard a loud voice calling through the woods.

"SCOTT!"

Scott snapped his head up and opened his eyes to see two figures walking through the trees, their gaits slow and limping as they came towards him. With a huge sigh of relief, Scott rose to his feet.

It was Malia and Liam.

Both teenagers looked as though they'd been through a battle – and really, Scott thought, they had. They were both covered in a mixture of mud and blood, their clothes soaked and torn. Numerous cuts and bruises ran over their faces and arms, and Scott hoped that what he could already see was the worse there was.

Malia was supporting most of Liam's weight with her right shoulder, her left arm tucked protectively around her middle and from the odd way it was angled, Scott could tell it was broken. Liam was using only one leg, his left dragging uselessly against the ground as they drew near. Scott quickly ran over to them and grabbed Liam's other arm, putting it around his own shoulder and helping them walk back to where Lydia and Kira lay.

"What happened?!" Scott finally asked as he and Malia set Liam onto the ground next to Lydia. "Are you guys okay?"

Malia nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine, but Liam's got a crushed leg."

"I do not!" Liam protested. "It's just not fully functioning right now."

Malia scoffed and rolled her eyes, but the movement quickly sent her into a coughing fit and she bent over, crying out weakly as the movement jarred her broken arm.

"Malia, sit down," Scott said, trying to force her to sit. She refused, though, stubbornly shaking her head and pushing Scott away.

"No, stop it Scott – I'm fine. I broke my arm and I think I've bruised a couple ribs, but it's nothing I can't handle."

"What happened?" Scott asked again. "Where did you –."

"I fell over a cliff," she said. "Landed on my arm and it snapped like a twig." Scott grimaced, but Malia continued, "Liam and I were fighting that feral wolf and he threw me over the edge of a ravine. That's why I couldn't get back here right away, that's why I couldn't help Liam." She looked down at Liam, her dark eyes filled with guilt. "I'm sorry, Liam," she said quietly.

"I told you Malia, it wasn't your fault! Quit blaming yourself. If anything, it was my fault that I wasn't able to get to you –."

"What happened?" Malia interjected, not wanting to give up her guilt so easily. "What… what did that wolf do to you? How'd you defeat him if you were trapped under a tree?"

Scott frowned, looking back at Liam. "You were under a tree?" he asked. "Is that how you broke your leg?"

"Yeah," Liam replied, fingers brushing absently against his leg. "Yeah, the wolf managed to break a tree and it fell on me. I have to say, even as a werewolf, having a gigantic tree fall on your leg isn't exactly funnest thing to do. I was completely stuck; I couldn't get out no matter how hard I tri –."

"Well then how did you get out?!" Malia demanded. Here eyes were wide and slightly wild, reflecting an exhaustion and stress that all of them were feeling.

"It was Stiles," Liam said, his words coming out in a rush and his own eyes growing wide. "It was Stiles, he came and he… he did something, and –." Suddenly Liam caught Scott's eye and he froze. Scott's eyes were wide and narrowed, his jaw clenched and his head shaking ever-so-slightly back and forth, giving Liam a loud and clear message to quit talking.

For once in his life, Liam heeded Scott's command and his mouth snapped shut. He looked back to Malia, who was looking at him in confusion, before stuttering out a response. "Um, uh – that is… that is, he helped me get my leg un… un-stuck."

"And what happened to the werewolf?"

"He… left."

Malia stared at him in bemusement. "He left?" she asked. "Just like that?"

"He – he disappeared," Liam finally managed to say, glancing briefly at Scott before looking back to Malia. "There was a loud noise and then he just disappeared. I don't know where he went after that –"

"He came to the clearing," Scott interrupted, taking over the conversation. "The witch used him as a distraction while we fought her."

Malia turned to Scott, her ever familiar frown etched deep on her face. "And what happened to him?" she asked. "Did you kill him?"

Scott hesitated for a brief moment before speaking. "It… it turns out that he wasn't working for her. At least, not really. And he wasn't feral, either. She… she had him under a spell, or something. I'm not quite sure how she controlled him, but at one point during the fight she… she was using him as a shield, and she was weak so her spell must have broken, because he… while she was holding onto him, he killed himself."

Both Liam and Malia's eyebrows jumped slightly at the news, and both were silent for a few moments before Malia finally spoke. "And where's Stiles now?" she asked, looking around the clearing. "You said he showed up at the fight, but where is he now?" She frowned, thinking, before looking Scott straight in the eyes. "You killed her, right?" she asked. "The witch – she's dead. That's why you're all here – because we won?"

Scott took a deep breath, then shook his head. "No," he said, moving towards Liam and helping him to his feet. "She disappeared into the woods and I'm going to look for her. You guys need to call Stiles' dad – call the Sheriff. He knows about us, so just tell him to come get you guys – Kira, Lydia, both you – you need to get to the hospital. Kira and Lydia both have head-wounds, and they're not responding to anything I do, so it's probably serious. So just – just call the Sheriff now, okay?" He began walking away and into the trees.

"Where are you going?" Liam called as Malia helped steady him.

"To find S – to find the witch," Scott replied, not looking back. "I have to find the witch."

Malia made to move forward, but her hold on Liam stopped her. "Scott, you need help!"

"Malia, I'm serious – I'll be fine," Scott replied, turning briefly around. "Now get to the hospital – or we may actually not get out of this alive."


Scott caught Stiles scent fairly-quickly after running a few minutes through the woods and followed it for another five minutes, slipping and sliding through the mud as rain poured down through the trees. As the scent grew stronger the rain grew weaker and he suddenly caught the smell of smoke. A moment later he could spot a fire burning through the trees and soon after that he broke through, stumbling to a stop as his eyes fell on Stiles' back, standing a few feet in front of him. Seeing no immediate danger, Scott's eyes fell from Stiles and turned to what was holding his friend's attention.

What looked like a tall bonfire stood in the centre of the clearing, burning bright and strong despite the rain. He stood still for only a few moments before turning his attention back to Stiles and taking a few, quick strides over to him. "Stiles," he said, coming up beside him. "Stiles, are you okay?!" He sniffed the air around him, scanning for any damage that had been done. He could smell blood and could see countless cuts and wounds, but looking at Stiles' face, none of that seemed to be an issue.

At Stiles' lack of response, Scott tried again, this time grabbing Stiles' arm and gripping it beneath his fingers. "Stiles."

Stiles blinked and leaned back, eyebrows furrowing briefly in confusion before turning to look at Scott. His eyes widened slightly and Scott watched as realisation set into place. "Scott," he said, clenching his jaw as he took a deep breath. He looked back at the fire, its flames flickering in his eyes.

Scott looked back at the fire and understanding dawned. "Is that… is that her?" he asked.

"Yes," Stiles replied, never taking his eyes off what was left of the witch. "She's dead."

"How did you – I mean, how did… how did she…?"

"Greed," Stiles said. "She was killed by greed." He paused, before adding, "And the fact that her legs somehow got stuck in the ground. And she got covered in roots and branches then set on fire. Not sure how that happened, to be honest –."

Stiles was cut off as he suddenly found himself being grabbed into a hug. Scott's arms wrapped around his shoulders and held him tight, his damp hair brushing against Stiles' temple and his shoulder pressing into Stiles' chin. Stiles fell silent and after a small moment he quickly wrapped his own arms around Scott, hugging him tightly back.

They eventually broke away and Stiles stumbled a few steps back, leaning his hand against a tree as he fought against the white spots that had suddenly appeared in front of his eyes. Scott steadied him and black lines began running along his forearm; Stiles swatted him away, insisting he was fine. Scanning his body for any pressing wounds, Scott's eye landed on a particularly soaked piece of fabric along Stiles' side. He lifted it up to reveal a deep and ugly gash running along the side of his ribs and down to his stomach, still bleeding profusely. He quickly ripped the bottom of his shirt and tied it around Stiles' waist, stifling the bleeding as best he could. Stiles let him work, taking the brief respite to close his eyes and have a few moments of rest.

When Scott was finished he rose back to his feet and turned around, eyeing the flames as they continued to burn. Stiles opened his eyes and they both watched in silence as wooden-tomb slowly turned to ash.

As the flames died down and the ash began to spread in the wind, Stiles suddenly frowned, the events of the day finally catching up with him. "What happened to the girls?" he asked, turning to Scott. "And Liam. What happened to them? Are they okay, are they –."

"Dude, stop – they're… they're fine. Well, they're not fine, but when I left them they were alive and I told them to call your dad, and –."

"Wait," Stiles interrupted, moving to get a better look at his friend. He raised his eyebrows incredulously. "When you left them, they were alive? What – what the heck does that mean? Were they – were they hurt? And how – oh shit, Lydia and Kira, they – they were hanging from a rope, and then they fell, and –."

"Stiles," Scott said, gripping Stiles' shoulder with his hand. He looked him square in the eyes, trying to calm him down. "Stiles, everyone's alive, but none of us got out without getting roughed up – some of us just got more roughed up than others. Liam broke his leg, Malia broke her arm, and Kira and Lydia both hit their heads." Stiles opened his mouth to intervene, but Scott cut him off. "I didn't smell death on them, Stiles. They were hurt and they need a hospital, yes, but they're not dying. By now I'm sure your dad has found them and taken them to emergency. So just… just calm down, okay? You're hurt enough as it is, you don't need to start freaking out about everyone else."

Stiles took a deep breath, steadying himself before looking back at Scott. "You're hurt too, you know," he said, eyeing pointedly at some of Scott's wounds.

Scott shook his head, rolling his eyes. "I'll be fine. I'm a werewolf; we have a tendency to get thrown around and heal better than others."

Stiles wanted to keep arguing but a coughing fit broke him off, and he spent a few moments hacking away until the fit finally died down and he lifted his head back up, looking over at the flames which were now no higher than a few feet off the ground. The tomb had burned; the witch was dead. And for the first time in a long time, Stiles felt peace.

"Come on," Scott said, taking Stiles' arm and leading him into the trees. "You need to get checked out at the hospital, and I wouldn't mind taking a really hot shower. I don't think I've been covered in this much mud since the fifth-grade mud bog."

"Dude, the hospital's like, twenty-miles away from here. It'll take us hours to get there! By then, we could –."

"We're not going to walk the whole way there," Scott said, his feet splashing through puddles and slipping in the mud. "I left my bike only a mile away from here. We'll be there in twenty minutes."

"Oh great," Stiles replied. "So we nearly die fighting a crazy-witch hell-bent on killing us, only to get killed instead on your stupid motorcycle. Thanks, Scott."

Scott chuckled, shaking his head. "No problem, man."

Stiles fought back a smile of his own as they two continued to walk through the trees. After a few minutes Stiles looked back, his eyes catching the flickering flames one last time.


The ride to the hospital was anything but pleasant. Each bump they hit sent jarring shocks of pain through Stiles' body, letting him know of every single injury and wound he'd received during the fight. The fabric Scott had tied around his stomach brushed uncomfortably against the gash, and Stiles could feel the cold wind biting against his blood-wet skin.

Thirty-minutes later they arrived at the hospital and found a place to park, trying to at least be somewhat conspicuous and not go into the emergency room. Scott used Stiles' phone – which, though cracked and now permanently red and purple, still worked. He called his mom, who met them at the door. Upon seeing them, her eyes immediately went wide and she gave them a look of utter disbelief. "Are you two okay?!" she asked, running her hands over their muddied and bloodied cheeks, and brushing quickly over their arms. "What happened?!" she demanded, looking them both in the eye.

"We're fine, Mom," Scott said quickly, looking past her for any signs of the rest of the pack. Catching his mom's eye, he quickly retracted. "At least, we're not dying. But the others – the girls and Liam – have they come in yet? Are they okay?"

"They got here half an hour ago," Melissa replied, her eyes beginning to calm as the nurse in her took over and she began to mentally catalogue all of her son and Stiles' injuries. "The Sheriff brought them in. Liam and Malia are getting their arms and legs set; Kira regained consciousness on the way here and she's now being taken care of. She's got a nasty bump to the back of her head and it's causing her to throw up, but otherwise they think she'll be fine. Lydia woke up shortly before you got here; she also hit her head and has been in and out of consciousness. They think it's a concussion, and they'll likely keep her overnight to watch her and make sure there's no further damage."

Melissa moved past Scott and began checking out Stiles, her hands immediately going to the makeshift bandage that was already soaked through along his side. She frowned before gently pressing the cloth back. She grabbed a clipboard and pen and started walking down the hallway. "Come with me," she said, and Stiles and Scott quickly followed her down the hallway and into an unoccupied room. She shut the door behind them and locked it, immediately grabbing a trolley and bandages. "Sit," she said, motioning Stiles towards the bed. Once Stiles was sitting she moved beside him, her eyes never leaving his wound as she began to unwrap it. "Tell me what happened," she said sternly.

Scot and Stiles eyed each other. After a moment Scott spoke. "What did… what did the girls and Liam say?"

"They told the Sheriff that you all fell off a cliff," she said, never looking up from her work. Stiles hissed as she began pouring peroxide on the gash. Melissa offered no apology. "But neither he nor I are that stupid, so why don't you tell me what really happened?"

Scott coughed. "Well, that sounds… that sounds like a pretty good reason to me, so –."

"Scott."

"No seriously Mom, that's what –."

"It was the witch."

Both Scott and Melissa looked up at Stiles, Scott with an expression of reluctant acceptance, while Melissa looked at Stiles with a deep frown of concern. She stared at him for a long moment, before going back to his side. "And did you guys kill her?" she asked, trying to keep her voice light, as though this were a normal, every-day conversation.

Stiles didn't answer, but looked to Scott. Scott swallowed, his eyes dark and lines wrinkled slightly between his eyes in concern, but he nodded in understanding. "Yes," he said, watching as his mom finished cleaning the wound and started to thread the needle. "Yeah, she's – she's dead. We… we killed her and we burned her body, so this time she won't be coming back."

Melissa brought the needle down to Stiles' side, hesitating for a moment, saying, "This will sting a bit," before pressing the needle into his skin. Stiles clenched his teeth together and gripped the edge of the bed as Melissa worked. Scott placed his hand against Stiles' arm, black tendrils helping to ease the pain.

A few minutes later Melissa tied a knot and cut the string, and leaned back with a sigh. "You two will be the death of me," she said, rubbing the back of her hand over her forehead. Her eyes scanned the rest of Stiles' chest and arms which were visible through his torn shirt, and she shook her head. "Take your shirt off," she said to Stiles, before turning to Scott. "You too. And you might as well take a seat, Scott. I have a feeling we're going to be here a while."


She sent both of them home a few hours later, instructing Stiles to stay at their place so that she'd be able to keep an eye on him throughout the night, just in case something should happen. They stopped by Liam and Malia's room, but Liam had just been taken to get his cast and Malia was getting ready to go next. They asked how each other were doing and when she asked about the witch, Scott assured her that she was dead and her body had been burned. Malia's eyes stayed on Stiles for a long moment, a slight crease between her brows, as though trying to find an answer to something she didn't quite know the question to. Stiles didn't meet her gaze, keeping his eyes stoically on the floor; whether intentionally or not, Scott didn't know.

They told Malia to let Liam know that they'd been there and that they were going home to rest, but that they'd all get together the next day and let everyone know what had happened. Kira and Lydia were still asleep in their rooms, and likely would remain so through the rest the day and into the night. So after finishing their talk with Malia, Scott and Stiles finally headed home.

Stiles had gone quiet ever since Melissa had stitched him up, letting Scott do all the talking whenever someone saw or stopped to talk to them. When they arrived at Scott's house, Scott had been about to ask him what was wrong, when Stiles' phone suddenly rang.

He stared at it for a brief moment, as though unsure about whether to answer, when finally he took a breath and swiped his thumb across the screen. "Hey Dad," he said, his voice heavy with forced enthusiasm. Scott watched as his smile faded and his lips pressed together, exhaustion evident with every line on his face and every movement of his body. "No, I wasn't with them… no… no, Dad – I'm fine, really. Yeah, she's… she's dead. We burned her body, so… so she's not coming back." His jaw shifted slightly, his teeth clenching together. "Not this time."

A few more moments passed and Stiles took a breath, rubbing his hand against his forehead as he closed his eyes. "I got banged up a bit, but that's all. Melissa checked me out and said I was fine." Scott rolled his eyes and Stiles gave him a look, but Scott remained silent. Stiles turned back to his conversation. "No really, Dad – I'm fine. I'm at Scott's right now…. Because Melissa told me to – no, wait – no Dad, that doesn't – I didn't mean…. I'm fine, seriously. No Dad, you don't have to come over… honestly Dad, I'm not in danger, I'm completely fine…." Scott wasn't sure how many more times Stiles could say he was fine before the word lost its meaning, but after a few more minutes of assuring his dad that he was okay and insisting that he not come over, Stiles finally said goodbye and hung up.

He stared at the phone for a moment before slipping it in his pocket and turning to Scott. "I'm going to head to bed," he said, making his way towards the stairs.

Scott frowned, stepping forward and following after him. "Stiles," he started, and Stiles stopped at the foot of the stairs, breathing an audible sigh.

"What?"

"What… what's wrong?" Scott asked. "Did… did something happen, when you were fighting the witch? Did she say something? Are you still hurt and you're not tell –."

"I'm fine, Scott. Really."

"Then why aren't you talking? Why aren't you saying anything?"

Stiles finally turned around, leaning his back against the wall as he ran a hand through his hair. "I'm just tired, Scott –."

"Bullshit. Something's wrong and I'm tired of listening to you brush it off like none of it matters. So tell me the truth!" Scott's eyes softened and his shoulders relaxed. "Please."

Stiles watched him for a long moment, his brows creasing together as he bit his lip, before finally he spoke.

He told Scott everything. He told Scott what had happened when he'd left the room and how he'd gone through the portal to Alayna's world. He told him how he'd been practicing his powers when she started screaming, how he heard Givens' voice and how he saw everyone about to be killed. He told him how he felt horrible at leaving her there, how he felt terrified that something was happening to her, that something was killing her, and he was being forced to leave. He told him about finding Liam underneath the tree about to be killed by the Rogue Wolf; how he'd managed to distract the wolf enough before he had suddenly disappeared, and how he was able to lift the tree off Liam and free him.

He spoke about fighting Givens and how he'd almost had a panic attack when he saw Kira and Lydia hanging from the tree; how after that, everything became a blur, and all he wanted to do was kill the witch once and for all.

He talked about teleporting to the other clearing, how he'd fought Givens and how she'd taunted him, how he finally decided that, if he wanted to catch her off guard, if he wanted to finally kill her, he'd have to pretend to give himself up – a typical "succeed or die" Stiles Stilinski plan, and how finally, at last, he caught her – and he'd killed her, before finally setting her alight.

Stiles sighed once he finished, resting his head against the wall from his seat on the stairs, staring at the ceiling. They both sat in silence for a few minutes, before Scott quietly spoke. "So Liam knows," he said, his words an affirmation rather than a question. Stiles nodded and Scott sighed. "I figured he did. When he and Malia found us afterward in the clearing, he'd started saying something about how you'd freed him, and he seemed really freaked out by it, so I basically told him to shut up."

Stiles lifted his head, his eyes slightly wide in concern. "So he didn't tell them?"

Scott shook his head. "No. But I'm sure he'll be wanting to know, and if we don't tell him at least something, he'll eventually tell someone. That kid doesn't exactly know how to keep his mouth shut."

Stiles thumped his head back against the wall once more. "Well I don't think what he saw can exactly be explained away. He sort of got a ringside seat to a fight with elemental magic…."

Scott sighed, slumping in his seat by the table. "I guess… I guess we'll just have to deal with it tomorrow."

Stiles stared at Scott a moment longer, before nodding and getting to his feet. "Yeah. Tomorrow."


Tomorrow came bright and early and much to both Scott and Stiles' chagrin, Liam came bright and early with it.

They were woken first by an incessant ringing from Stiles' phone and then by a loud pounding on the front door, to which they finally, after much groaning and complaining, answered.

Liam was standing on the other side with a wide smile on his face, two crutches being held beneath his arms, and a large cast wrapped around his entire left leg. He looked between the two older boys, his smile never leaving his face. "Hey guys," he said. "How are you feeling? Are you feeling great? Because I am, even though I had my leg crushed under a tree that somehow got –." Both Scott and Stiles grabbed him by the collar and pulled him inside, shutting the door behind him with a bang.

They sat him on a chair and turned two more around to face him. He looked between them, his smile fading and his lips pressing together in a thin line. "I'd like to know what's going on now, please," he said firmly. "Or I swear, I'm going to –."

"Liam," Scott warned, his voice trying to set the younger wolf back into place. But Liam would not be easily deterred any longer.

"No, Scott! I know what I saw and I'm not going to let you guys blow it off like it's nothing; I'm not going to pretend that what I saw was nothing –." Liam suddenly stopped as his eyes caught Stiles' hand which was held out before him, and his eyes grew wide.

In the palm of Stiles' hand lay a vortex of wind, blue streaks of magic intertwined with white wisps of air, circulating over his palm and through his fingers, its force pushing back Liam's hair and brushing against his shirt. He stared in awe at it for a long moment, before the vortex slowly disappeared. He looked up to see Stiles' eyes, which were staring back into his own, watching and reading his every reaction. Liam swallowed and leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving Stiles'.

"The witch kidnapped me because I'm what she called a Blessed. I'm an Elemental. I have… I have power over the elements. I can control them and use them in whatever way I want. That's how I was able to get the tree off your leg – I used the earth to move it away."

Liam was silent for a long moment, then asked, "And when you were fighting the werewolf, that was…."

"That was the air. I can only use those two, so far. I don't know if I can use the rest, maybe I can, but it'll probably be a while before I find that out…."

Liam stared in a stunned silence and Stiles looked away, waiting for his reaction, waiting to see what he'd say, if he'd call him a freak or if he'd run away screa –

"That…" Liam started, licking his lips. "That's probably the coolest thing I've ever seen. I mean, elemental powers? Seriously?! So you're like Thor, or something? Or Storm? Or Professor X?!"

Stiles blinked, turning back to Liam with a frown. "I can move stuff with the elements, Liam – not with my mind –."

"You're basically like a mutant!"

"I'm not a mutant, Liam, I don't even know what I am –."

"Can you fly, like Storm can? Or Jean Gray? Can you?!"

Stiles gaped and he heard Scott laugh, as he tried to calm the young wolf down. "Liam, no – no, I can't fly, I'm not Storm – holy crap Liam, just sit down, you're going to break your other leg –."

Liam, having stood to his feet, suddenly swung around, his eyes wide with excitement. "Wait till the rest of the guys hear about this –."

"No, Liam," Stiles said firmly, all traces of exasperation gone from his voice. He caught Liam's gaze and held it, staring him sternly in the eyes. Liam blinked and his smile slowly died down.

"You can't tell the others," Scott said, his arms crossed in front of him, watching Liam carefully.

Liam looked at him incredulously. "Why not? Why wouldn't you want –."

"Because people will be looking for me," Stiles said quietly. "The reason the witch came after me was for my powers, and she was ready to kill me and everyone around me to get them. More people will be looking for me, and they'll want to try and take them, too. So for now… for now, until I figure more of this stuff out, the less people who know about me, the better. So please, Liam… just don't, just don't tell anyone, okay? Not until it's safe." Not until I'm ready.

Liam stared at Stiles for the longest time, before finally he sat down, and he nodded. "Okay," he said. "Okay, I… I get that, I guess." They all sat in silence for a few moments before Liam's face suddenly lit up once more. "Hey, can I at least watch you while you practice? 'Cause you're gonna be practicing, right? Like we do at the river? Dude, that'd be so cool to see if you could –." A loud honk sounded from outside, cutting Liam off. He immediately hunched in on himself, a guilty look crossing his face.

Scott looked past him out the window and frowned. "Dude, did your mom drive you?" he asked.

"Well I couldn't exactly drive myself, could I?" Liam asked, motioning to his casted leg. Scott and Stiles both rolled their eyes and everyone stood to their feet, making their way to the door where Liam finally made his way outside, promising Stiles that he wouldn't say a word and telling Scott he'd check in with him later.

As they watched Liam get in his car and leave, Scott couldn't help but let a wide grin spread across his face. "Looks like you've got a new admirer," he said as he closed the door, trying to hold back a laugh.

Stiles glared at him, resisting the urge to growl. "I don't want a new admirer," he said through gritted teeth, "thank-you very much." At that, Scott did laugh and with a quick pat to Stiles' uninjured shoulder, he began making his way upstairs, telling Stiles he was going to take a shower and to go ahead and find something to eat. Stiles nodded and watched him go, until finally he was, for the first time in a long while, alone.

He stood in silence for a few minutes, trying to process everything that had happened over the past 24 hours.

The witch was dead – he'd killed her. He still wasn't sure what he felt about that, about killing another living being and being the one solely responsible for their death. But knowing that, had he not done it, more people would have died – that was a pretty decent comfort.

The second person his mind turned to was Alayna. He'd tried last night to contact her, talking to the mirror when Scott wasn't in the room, asking if she was all right, if she was still alive, but nothing he said or did elicited any response. He remembered what she'd said about the portal needing to recharge, needing to regain power, and he hoped beyond hope that her silence was all that was, and nothing more.

Then his thoughts turned to himself.

Staring at his hand, Stiles set it out in front of him, spreading his fingers and facing his palm to the ceiling. After a few moments the vortex of wind reappeared, the air weaving and running through his fingers and dancing over his hand once more.

He still didn't know all that much about his powers or what it meant to be a Blessed. He didn't know much about Alayna or Givens, and he knew next to nothing about the prophecy; but whatever it was, whatever any of it was – he'd face it. He'd face it, just like he'd faced Givens, and eventually he would figure it out. Because this was his life now – and there was nothing he could do to change it; he could only move forward.

And maybe, Stiles thought, as he turned and spread his fingers towards a plate of cookies sitting on the counter, lifting one off the top and carrying it through the air, until it landed in the palm of his hand – he didn't want to.


A/N: Sequel, anyone? :)