A/N
Hey guys! This is the last chapter! Thank you so much for reading, it's been an awesome two weeks. The prequel will be posted tomorrow under the vampire diaries and teen wolf, and that will contain information about the eventual sequel. Although this ending is a bit of a cliffhanger, it is meant to pick up at the exact start of Teen Wolf season 3b, and right before "The Man Who Would Be King" in Supernatural. (Season 6.) The sequel will start around halfway through season 3b. I want to thank all my reviewers, and I want to encourage everyone to keep on the lookout for my other stories, hopefully coming soon. As always, remember to check out my non-crossover "one way ticket," also on it's last chapter, thanks so much again, and enjoy!
Ch. 14
Epilogue
Meredith Fell and the other vessels had woken up for the most part uninjured. They had been patched up, returned to their families, and sworn to secrecy. It's not like anyone would have believed them anyway. Meredith, before leaving, had thanked Stiles for saving her, muttering how she would be getting as far away from the supernatural as possible.
"It's not enough for vampires to live in my home town! Now I get possessed by a demon too?" She had exclaimed rather loudly in the airport. "Screw it all. I'm moving to Alaska." Then she had hugged the Winchesters one at a time before boarding her flight to Virginia.
"Bye Sam! Bye Dean!" Stiles said as he hugged his brothers next to their car that afternoon after dropping off Meredith. The whole pack was there too, minus Peter, and Sam and Dean shook hands with everyone before their departure.
"Here." Sam said after handing a slip of paper to Chris. "That's our number. Call us if you need any backup, or research... anything."
"Likewise." Chris said, giving Sam his number. "Just... don't come back unless you really have to."
"And Allison," Sam said to the huntress standing next to her father, "call us if you have any questions about things other than werewolves." Allison grinned widely. Chris looked a little disgruntled.
"Sunday?" Dean asked Stiles.
"Yeah, I'll call you Sunday." Stiles replied.
"Think you can stay out of trouble until then?"
Stiles grinned mischievously. "No."
"Good, just checking." Dean said. Then he and Sam got in the Impala and drove away.
"Well, feathers, I didn't think I'd find you here." Crowley said with a smirk as he walked over to the vast tree stump.
"You saved them." Cas mumbled. "Thank you."
Crowley scoffed. "We do have a deal." He paused. "You know the Winchesters are on to you."
"I surmised as much, yes. They won't suspect me. Not unless you keep quiet."
Crowley mimed zipping his lips. "My trap is sealed, mate. I want to find purgatory just as much as you."
"And you think this...'nematon' could be a clue?" Cas mused.
Crowley walked slowly around the base of the tree stump, studying it. "I thought it might be." He said. "That's why I came here in the first place. But I did some investigating, and found bupkis. It's druish magic, and while it's aura resembles that of purgatory, hence the attraction of supernatural creatures, it's not connected at all. We're going to have to find another way." Cas nodded.
"Do Sam and Dean know why you came here?" Cas asked.
"No. Fortunately I had to take care of some rebels, so I passed it off as that. That, and Stiles."
"I did not know he was in danger." Cas said, looking a little hurt.
"That's a bad sign, my friend." Crowley said sympathetically.
"Why?" Cas asked, confused.
Crowley chuckled. "It means they trust you less than you think." With that, he vanished, and Castiel was left alone staring at the nemeton, praying he was doing the right thing.
Peter was happy. The Winchesters were out of town, the demon was dealt with, and best of all, no one had seen through him. He smiled to himself in the safety of the loft. Dean had thought he was mad at him? Peter couldn't care less about Dean Winchester. He could not deny, however, that hunters had an uncanny knack for reading people. It was a necessary part of the job. While he was too close to the Argents for them to see his ulterior motives, who would say the same for the infamous Winchester brothers? So, Peter had worn a mask of anger, and it had worked. It was normal, after all, for a werewolf to be less-than-charming to a pair of hunters. So, just like he had predicted, Sam and Dean had rolled their eyes and turned away.
However, things weren't perfect. He still had Stiles to deal with. The boy turning out to be a hunter had been a curveball, one Peter had tried to dodge by throwing him out of the pack. Since it didn't work, Peter supposed he would have to be more careful. Stiles already didn't like him, the attempt to kick him out meant he had a reason to distrust him. If Stiles found out... But that would be preposterous. No, Peter would succeed in killing Scott McCall. Even if he had to side with his bitter rival, Peter would succeed. What was that he had told the Darach, after slashing her throat a week ago, the day before the demon arrived? He was the alpha. He has always been the alpha.
"Stiles! I'm fine! Now will you please stop asking?"
"Well, Lydia, the shrieking would kind of imply otherwise." Stiles said as he reached for his strawberry-blonde friend. Lydia's icy glare stopped his arms in mid-air, and Stiles shrunk back, bracing for her wrath. He realized he probably shouldn't have driven over to her house without warning, but he wanted to make sure she was ok. Lydia had voted for him in the woods the afternoon before, but they had never talked about the wedge of secrets between them. It took us so long to be friends. I don't want that to end. Stiles hoped desperately that whatever damage he did was repairable.
"Lydia?" Stiles asked, sitting on her vivid purple bed.
"Mmm?" Lydia replied sitting next to him, her attention suddenly transfixed on her compact mirror.
"Are we- I mean, are you-"
"Spit it out, Stiles!" Lydia snapped, turning away from dabbing her lips.
"Are you okay with finding out who I am?" Stiles all-but-whispered. Lydia shut her compact with a snap! and turned towards her friend.
"Of course." She said so matter-of-factly that Stiles was gaping.
"That's it?"
"Stiles," Lydia said with a toss of her perfect hair, "you forget that I've been through this before. You guys kept me in the dark during the whole Kanima thing, so I had to go through it on my own. Finding out Allison was a hunter paled in comparison to finding out Scott and Isaac were werewolves, they were working with murder suspect Derek, also a werewolf, and my boyfriend was a lizard hybrid. It was like that when I found out about you like what, 36 hours ago? While I had assumed that other things besides shapeshifters had to have existed, that was nothing compared to facing a demon in real life. Seeing it hurt you. To find out you could protect yourself was more of a relief than anything. I learned that my best friend is a hunter. I don't see why you can't be one too."
"Well when you put it like that..." Stiles muttered. Lydia threw a pillow at him.
"I am relieved, though. What with you and Allison being the only two humans, besides Chris. It's good that you can hold your own."
"What about you?" Stiles asked.
"I'm a banshee, whatever the fudge that means." Lydia said with a smile. Stiles smiled too, and Lydia noticed for the first time his dark circles. "Stiles," she inquired worriedly, "what's wrong?"
"Nothing!" Stiles said reassuringly, with another grin that didn't quite stretch to his face. A sharp glare from Lydia quickly sent him scrambling to explain. "I haven't been sleeping much." He admitted. "What with the demon and everything. And when I do, I have these really weird dreams." Realization hit Lydia like a ton of bricks.
"It's the darkness." Lydia whispered. "It's starting, isn't it." Stiles nodded.
"Maybe. Maybe it's just been there all week and none of us noticed it. I remember, I was having some trouble drawing devil's traps because the symbols looked wrong. And Scott, he couldn't turn."
"And Allison?" Lydia asked quietly.
"I don't know." Stiles lamented. "I'll call Sam and Dean, eventually, but I think they've got enough on their plate. Something about Cas..."
Lydia groaned. "Talk about too much on my plate! Are you ready for school tomorrow?" Stiles groaned and tossed a pillow at Lydia's giggling head.
"Don't remind me."
"Allison!" Stiles yelled, desperate to catch up to his friend. Allison whirled around from her previously solitary run in the woods, startled to see Stiles running toward her. She stopped and waited for him to catch up laughing at how horribly out of breath he was when he did.
"What's up?" Allison asked over the heavy panting.
"I just- I just - wanted to thank you." Stiles stuttered out in between breaths.
"For what?" Allison asked, surprised this time.
"For standing up for me." Stiles replied. Now that he was no longer out of breath he was bashful and a little embarrassed. "It probably wasn't easy, defending me and two guys you don't even know, against your dad of all people, so, you know, thanks."
Allison immediately pulled him into a hug.
"Stiles," she said into his ear, "There is nothing I wouldn't do for you. Remember that." Stiles flushed a deep red. "Besides," Allison said as she pulled away from the hug, fixing her dark brown hair, "I liked meeting your brothers. They're nice, and they gave me an offer I might take them up on."
"You could always ask me." Stiles said.
"Where's the fun in that?" Allison teased with a radiant smile. She waved goodbye to her friend and continued on her run. She heard the patter of Stiles' feet in the opposite direction. She smiled to herself when a shadow up ahead made her pause. She must be going crazy. Because the shadow she saw was a figure whipping around a tree, and the flash of dirty-blond hair almost looked like-
"Kate." Allison whispered, alone in the forest.
Derek was happy, if a little exhausted. The demon was gone, Peter was back to normal, Stiles had stopped bothering him to make sure he was ok. Honestly, Derek didn't mind that Stiles was a hunter. It meant he no longer had to watch out for the kid. Derek was just glad Cora had gotten out of town before the demon hit it. She had gone back to South America. Maybe he should join her, just for a couple weeks. Werewolves need vacations, too.
Chris sighed as he ran to answer the door, an assault of ringing doorbells echoing around his is house. He already knew who it was. Sure enough, the door opened to reveal a ragged-looking Stiles, his hand still firmly pressed on the doorbell.
"Stiles." The boy jumped at hearing his name, and leapt away from the doorbell, turning red.
"Hello, Mr. Argent." Stiles said awkwardly, fidgeting around the doorway.
"What do you want, Stiles?" Chris asked cooley. Stiles took a breath before speaking.
"Well, I've been going around town, talking to everyone, you know, making sure they're okay with everything. And I just want you to know that I'm not ready to talk shop. Not with you. You want to know about Adam, right?" Chris nodded, surprised at the boy's bluntness. "Well I'm a little reluctant to talk about Adam. My family has a pretty bad reputation in the hunter community, and frankly, I don't trust you with the information.
Allison's new. She wasn't raised in the life, she doesn't have that ragged edge or that quick judgement that I'm sure is ingrained in your system. I told her basically my life story. Anything you want to know, ask her. But I'm not ready to face you as a Winchester. I'm not ready for your judgement."
"Stiles-" Chris began to say, but Stiles plowed on.
"You told me back at the loft that there was blood on my name. That I shouldn't use it. I'm sorry, but you're wrong. I don't have a choice. What happened to Adam was my father's fault. Because he wasn't a hunter, but his lineage was still used against him. The things in the dark don't care if you're in the dark, too. But maybe the right information can send them running."
"Stiles, what happened to your brother?" Chris asked. He didn't want to put the boy through this, but he had to know.
"He was eaten by ghouls, trying to get revenge for my father's actions."
"You're not worried that that could be you?"
"Mr. Argent, that could be anyone." Stiles said sharply. "At least I'm better prepared." Stiles paused. "I know I'm asking a lot, staying in town, when I know how you feel about other hunters, especially my brothers. But technically, I was here first."
Chris smiled, and reached out his hand. "Stiles, I voted for you to stay. It'll be a pleasure working with you."
"God, I hope not." Stiles said with a laugh. As he walked away, Chris couldn't help but think that maybe Beacon Hills was better off with a Winchester in town.
"Hey Dean?"
"Yeah, Sam?"
"I'm worried."
"About Cas? Me too."
"No, not Cas." Sam said to his brother. "Stiles."
Dean looked sideways at his brother, before returning his eyes to the road. It was hours after leaving Beacon Hills, and night was beginning to fall. Dean was driving the Impala, with Sam in the passenger sheet, using a map to navigate them to Sioux Falls.
"What are you talking about?" Dean asked. "The kid's fine. We wouldn't have left if we thought the demons were still out there, or his pack would tear him to pieces."
"Look, I can't explain it!" Sam said angrily. "But when I looked at him last night, he looked so beaten down. He was sickly. His skin was grey, and the bags around his eyes were practically black. Then, when I looked at him a little later, he was fine. It could have been a trick of the light, but I don't think so."
To Sam's surprise, Dean nodded in agreement. "The same thing happened to me," Dean admitted, "on the car ride to the loft. I questioned him, and he said that he hadn't been getting much sleep."
"It could be the darkness, or whatever, that Stiles mentioned when he called us after defeating the Darach." Sam postulated.
Dean groaned. "Another reason for me to be furious at him. The demon came the next day!" That can't be a good sign."
Sam sighed. "Look," he said, "It could be sleep deprivation. If it's the nematon thing, then Deaton knows how to deal with it. We can't exactly turn around the car and wait for something bad to happen. Our sheer presence in Beacon Hills caused Stiles' life to implode. I say we wait it out. We'll ask Stiles how he's doing when he calls us in a week."
"I thought he was calling us Sunday?"
"Today's Sunday, Jerk."
"Bitch." Dean replied. He stretched his arms with a groan, or as much as he could while still driving. "You're right. We've got bigger problems to deal with. Call Bobby and let him know we're a couple hours out. Tell him to try his hand at angel-proofing the house." As Sam took out his phone to make the call, Dean kept his eyes on the road. Cas, his brother, why did he feel like things were about to get worse?
Scott and Stiles were walking in the woods, just one hour after Stiles confronted Allison.
"You look like crap." Scott blurted out suddenly.
"Thanks, Scott." Stiles said sarcastically.
"I mean it, Stiles. Did you sleep at all last night?" Scott asked, his eyes wide and his voice full of concern.
"No." Stiles, admitted, downcast. "It's weird. I keep having these strange dreams. And I'm starting to have trouble reading... It's freaking me out, man."
"I can't shift." Scott said. "I'm scared that if I do, I'll lose control. It's the darkness, Stiles. It's beginning to set in."
"Fantastic." Stiles muttered. "Death by tree." He flinched as he remembered a previous nightmare, of standing in front of the massive tree stump with glaring lights aimed at him. Did he have that dream last night?
"Maybe we should call your brothers?" Scott asked reproachfully, unsure of how to deal with the topic.
"Nah." Stiles said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "They've got bigger problems. How are you dealing with that, by the way?"
"Fine." Scott said. Stiles looked at him reproachfully. "Really." Scott clarified. "I'm fine. At first I was a little angry that you didn't tell me, but now I can see why you didn't. Then I thought you were going to kill me, but now I see that that's ridiculous. Now I think it's for the best, because if you hadn't been a hunter then who knows what would have happened when I got turned."
Stiles smiled weakly. "Argent would have had to kill you."
"Yeah." Scott said with a sigh. "Did you talk to him afterwards?"
"A little." Stiles said. "The rest can wait. I'm not ready to face serious hunters as a Winchester yet. We have a little bit of a bad reputation. And he wanted to know about Adam."
Scott looked at him confused.
"Adam was my half brother." Stiles clarified. "He was killed. But that can wait too."
"Ok. But Stiles, I'm fine with who you are. Just be sure to tell me everything." Scott said with a smile. Slowly, Stiles returned the grin.
"I knew I could count on you!" Stiles said, punching his friend playfully.
"Careful. Unless your new hunter status makes it possible to kick my ass." Scott teased. Stiles was about to reply when a shier of deja-vu ran through him. That dream about the nemeton, had that been last night? Or minutes ago?
"Stiles, what's wrong?" Scott asked.
"Remember when I told you about my weird dreams?" Stiles asked, voice shaking. Scott nodded. Stiles gulped before continuing. "I think it's happening right now."
"That's ridiculous!" Scott said quickly. Too quickly.
"No, Scott." Stiles said firmly, realization dawning on him. He was sure now. "We've had this conversation before. Hours ago. Afterwards I went home and ate Chinese food with my dad. Then I went to bed. Scott, this is a dream."
"Ok, so how do you know?" Scott asked. Stiles found it reassuring that imaginary Scott was just as concerned for his friend as real Scott. "How can you be sure if this is a dream?"
"Fingers." Stiles whispered. "In dreams, you have extra fingers."
"Stiles." Scott said firmly. "Count with me." Scott held up his closed hands, and slowly raised his left index finger. Stiles closed his eyes as Scott counted out loud.
One. Stiles was being paranoid. Why wouldn't this be real?
Two. But he could remember them now. Other dreams where he counted his fingers.
Three. Dreams where he screamed to wake up, but nothing happened.
Four. The night the Darach was killed, that's when it first happened.
Five. Something was wrong with him. Was it the darkness, or something more?
Six. His brothers kept asking what was wrong, and like an idiot he said nothing.
Seven. The symbols moved around on the devil's trap.
Eight. It was stupid to think that everything would be over.
Nine. Then there was what Crowley said. When he had been ripped from Scott, before being taken to Dean. Crowley had said that he would have liked for a demon to possess Stiles, to spy on his brothers. Dean had asked if Crowley had said anything, and Stiles hadn't replied that he had. I would have liked for a demon to possess you, Stiles, Crowley had said, But I can't. Not because of your little tattoo, but because you're already possessed.
Ten.
Stiles' eyes snapped open, relieved, as Scott held up his hands, the count finished. Stiles sighed. It was real. It was all real. The sunlight and the forest and his friend, but...
"Scott. You forgot your thumbs." Stiles said, horrified, as he realized that Scott held up ten fingers, with two more tucked away.
"Oh." Scott said. "My mistake." He opened up his palms entirely.
Eleven.
Twelve.
And Stiles woke up screaming.