Author's Note: I know I haven't touched this in a long time but I've gotten my mom into the show so I'm back! Anyway here goes.

6. Haunted

Derek frowned down at the ground. The trail Peter had laid had led them out into the woods. Deep into the woods past even the Hale House. He hated coming here. He had lived here so long ago but almost none of the memories he had from here were pleasant. Well there were some, the longer he spent in Beacon Hills the more those came back to him. Scents, tastes, sometimes even whole buildings would trigger the memories and he would have to fight with himself not to run away from everything he'd destroyed, everything he'd led Kate to. He growled slightly and stepped over a creek. The trail went cold here, Peter had made sure of that. But no Derek could still smell something. Something metallic. For one horrible moment he thought it might be blood but no it wasn't coppery. It smelled more like rusted iron than blood. He wrinkled his nose, but he knew that smell. He stepped past Scott who was swearing to himself as he tried Jackson again. Stepping over to a lone willow tree that grew near the creek he pushed aside the fronds and sniffed again. The smell was stronger here. It took him a minute to find it but eventually he scaled the tree and found in a small hole in which was wedged an old pendant. It was rusted but not unrecognizable. It had been Laura's when she was young, but she'd given it to him. He'd lost it proving to Mieczyslaw that he could climb all the way up the tree without the claws. She'd been three at the time. The memory was so clear, every glimmer of the sun through the branches, every scent, even hers as she pouted at the base of the tree. Then it clicked.

Derek slid down the tree, the shirt in his back pocket catching on the tree and hanging from a small knob wafting in the slight breeze that entered the small secluded grove the willows hanging boughs created as Scott pushed some of them aside.

"Jackson finally answered. He and Isaac found Lydia. She's freaking out. She doesn't remember anything, she says she left the stands to go to the bathroom and woke up in the woods with Jackson. Derek?" Derek was putting two and two together rapidly in his head. It made sense, everything that had always picked at the edges of his brain, that he'd always known weren't quite right but he'd never really thought about. Peter hadn't bitten her that night when she and Scott were alone in the woods, he'd waited for Scott to be alone. He'd never gone directly for her when as the Sheriffs daughter she would have been the more useful one to turn. When he'd had her he'd asked, Peter didn't ask people if they wanted the bite. But he'd asked her. It was why his wolf was so protective of her, why it had always been protective of her.

"Because she was already pack." He didn't realize he'd spoken out loud until Scott looked at him like he'd grown a second head. He had to be sure. He leapt to his feet and grabbed Scott by the front of his shirt.

"Stiles isn't her real name is it!?" He was practically shouting but he didn't really care. Scott shook his head as Erica peeked between the branches to see what was going on.

"What's Stiles' real name Scott?" Scott shook his head.

"It's polish! I can't pronounce it! Why is this suddenly so important!?" Derek's eyes flashed red and he growled. He didn't hear Erica squeak and shuffle into the deep shadows under the willow. He did hear a throat clear from his left. He turned to snarl at the wolf and found himself looking into the less than startled face of Sheriff John Stilinski.

"Her name is Mieczyslaw, now I'd like you to answer Scott's very legitimate question, along with some of mine." Isaac waved sheepishly from behind the Sheriff.

Stiles wasn't quite sure where she was, everything was a shade of gold or silver and there was a pool in front of her. She frowned. She didn't remember any place like this in Beacon Hills, she would remember a place like this. Something in the water moved and Stiles leaned forwards. There were images on the still surface of the water. It took her a moment to recognize the little girl with the shoulder length pig tails and the big whiskey colored eyes.

"That's me." Her voice echoed around the grove but she didn't pay attention to it. She was busy watching the images move. The little Stiles ran into a set of legs and wrapped herself around one of them like an octopus. A hand brushed her bangs out of her face and she detached herself from the leg in front of her. Stiles felt tears spring into her eyes as her mother knelt down in front of the smaller version of herself. A voice she hadn't heard in so long echoed around her.

"Hello sweetie, do you feel like visiting some friends of mine?" The tiny Stiles nodded and the image rippled. When it stilled she and her mother were standing outside a house Stiles knew all too well. But she knew it as a burned down husk. The image in the pool showed her the Hale House as it had been, unburned and brimming with life. Talia Hale stood outside the door one hand on her stomach the other waving at a group of children. Stiles was still attached to her mother's leg. Talia smiled.

"Hello there. How are you today?" Tiny Stiles hopped off her mothers leg and began to outline her entire day to Talia as if they were old friends. Stiles sat watching the image play out, baffled. She didn't remember this, any of it. The Hale House before it was burned, Talia or what had to be Derek at around six years old running over to her and tugging on her arm for her to join the other kids in the game they were playing. Her brow knit together as her image refused to join Derek stubbornly telling him to wait. Then she turned back to her mother. With a smile Claudia knelt down in front of tiny Stiles and brought her hand up between them. Then something happened that made Stiles jump up from the bench she was sitting on. Her mother's eyes flashed purple and a tiny flower blossomed in her hand. She tucked it behind tiny Stiles' ear and Stiles grinned and turned back to Derek racing off to join him and the other small werewolves in their game.

"That can't be right." Stiles deadpanned watching the image of her and Derek playing as children.

"Memory is such a fickle thing, easily manipulated." Stiles whiled around looking for the source of the voice. Then she stopped cold. Sitting across the pool from where Stiles had been sitting moments before was a figure she hadn't seen since she was eight years old. It took her several minutes but Stiles eventually found her voice.

"Mom…?"

Peter really wasn't sure what he'd done at this point. All he knew was it wasn't what he'd wanted. He'd wanted to reawaken Stiles' long dormant powers, knowing she would need someone to guide her. She would be vulnerable, scared and defenseless, easily manipulated. But that hadn't happened. Instead something had bubbled up from under the cabin, a silver liquid he didn't recognize. He scowled flipping through the book he'd stolen from the local vet. This wasn't right. She was supposed to be a druid, or at least descended from one. But this, this was Fae magic. Old, older even than the druids. His scowl deepened as the liquid swirled up one of her legs up to her arm in a thin spiral. He flipped to the next page. He had to find a way to fix this before Derek got here or he was going to die again.