A/N

Hey guys, thanks for reading, and for the reviews. Speaking of which, on the subject of updates... this is something I covered a lot in my last story, but let me reiterate: I write each chapter, and then I post it, and then I have a blank page for the next one. I'm not ahead, and I don't have anything already written, that's why it takes so long to update. I did start this story during the end of NTAF, but that was literally chapter one, and I've been working from scratch since. I'm sorry it takes so long, but I write when I can, and update when each chapter is finished. So no, I can't update every other day, just once a week, or twice a week if I'm lucky. It just so happens that I have a lot of time this week, but who knows for the next. Ok, that's all on that subject. This chapter deals a lot with 'The Ultimate Battle of Wits,' so if you haven't read that one, you just need to know that Isaac is a witch as well as a werewolf, a vampire named Kol briefly possessed his body, and he, Stiles, and two witches named Kai and Davina were all in New Orleans and havoc broke loose. Also, this intersects with 'The Originals,' not really with the plot, just with a character recently being brouth back to life, and then that's it. Okay, that's kind of a lot, but you'll get the hang of it. As always, review, check out my other stories, and enjoy!

Ch. 5

Royal Orleans

Stiles hoped that the sea of people wouldn't part for him in New Orleans. He hoped he could shuffle along unnoticed, blend in with the witches and the werewolves and tourists, and find who he was looking for relatively quickly.

No such luck.

Oh, everything was fine at first. He parked his jeep in the same place Kai had parked Damon's car, (force of habit) six months earlier. He skirted around crowds and flowed with the people with ease... Until he got to the street Klaus lived on. It was a busy day, with bustling witches, vampires, and who the hell else, but it all came to a halt when Stiles turned the corner and saw those black wired balconies, and the people below them, still, a hush stuttering across the street. Everyone was looking at him, with open mouths and fear, and far away in a corner of his mind, Stiles heard broken glass and shrill screams.

Stiles didn't really know what to do, so he just kind of stood there for a moment, looking back at the people looking at him. Eventually, eyes averted, whispers grew louder again, and people began to shuffle along, just as Stiles hoped to do, and soon his mark on the morning was no more. Stiles tucked his head down and walked forward, to the house he knew was at the end of the road, but before he could get there, a hand snaked around his elbow and he was tugged backwards, turned around, and pressed up against a wall, the same wall where not too long ago he had found a bleeding, half-dead-

"Isaac!" Stiles breathed, and Isaac took a step back, releasing his restraining hold.

"Stiles." Isaac said. "What are you doing here?" He didn't sound accusatory, so much as genuinely curious.

"Uh..." Stiles said, but before he could reply, he noticed the sheen of sweat on Isaac's face, the dilation of his pupils, and the panicky way his eyes moved back and forth without stopping. "Isaac, are you ok? You look like you've been running scared."

"I- yeah," Isaac said, panting slightly, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I'm alright, I just- didn't really expect to see you here- you couldn't have called?"

"I-" Stiles started to say, but once again he was interrupted, this time by a loud, shrill voice that he recognized.

"Isaac!" The voice, or rather, Davina, yelled from not-to-far-away, and Isaac stiffened, a look on his face of pure, unadulterated fear.

"Everything ok?" Stiles asked softly.

"Not really." Isaac said, panic-stricken. "You still remember your way around? Cause we need to run." Without further ado, he grasped Stiles' hand, and pulled him away from the wall, through the disinterested crowds of people.

"Isaac, wait!" Stiles shouted, but Isaac did not wait, instead weaving them through back streets and alleys, up the road Stiles had come from and back down again, zigzagging along pathways, and, at one point, through a cemetery, all while Davina yelled from all over, calling out Isaac's name in worry. Everytime he heard her, Isaac winced, but then would yank Stiles' wrist to change their direction, catapulting them through street after street, making Stiles wheeze with the task of keeping up. At one point, Stiles just closed his eyes, letting himself be dragged along like a rag doll. Which is why it came as such a surprise when Isaac grinded to a halt.

"Aaaahh!" Stiles yelped, flung forward, almost crashing into their obstacle. Isaac yanked him back, and Stiles bent over, panting, reclaiming his breath. Once he was good, he looked up and saw Isaac's face. If he wasn't scared before, he certainly was now. Stiles followed his gaze and lept back in surprise. There, blocking the alley, with a disturbingly smug grin on his face, and ill-fitting clothes that suggested they were not his, in all his undead glory, was Kol Mikaelson.

"Aah!" Stiles yelped again. He looked back and forth between Kol and Isaac, who were glaring at each other with stone cold expressions, Isaac clenching the back of Stiles' shirt for support, and Kol's eyes flicking to Stiles occasionally in muted surprise.

Stiles wasn't sure how long they stood in that silent standoff, but eventually he regained his breath and composed himself, right before stomping forward, and poking Kol in the chest. "You're supposed to be dead!" he shouted.

"So is he." Kol said smugly, nodding to Isaac, causing him to shiver. "Funny how things work out that way."

Isaac opened his mouth like a fish, but no sound came out, or words, or any discernable communication. Eventually, he closed his mouth, and settled for communicating his fear optically. Kol smirked widely.

Stiles, realizing he would have to diffuse the situation, sighed, and took a tentative step towards Kol. Kol turned his head like a hawk and zeroed in on Stiles' movements, but Stiles, undeterred, merely extended his hand slowly in a half-hearted handshake attempt. To his surprise, Kol took it. His hand was stone cold.

"I'm not sure if we've met." Stiles mumbled. "I'm Stiles-"

"-Winchester." Kol finished, with a devious grin. "Don't be so shy, Stiles, we have met. And had some good times. It might have been his body-" Kol shot Isaac a glare, who withered under it, "-who you were talking to on your last trip to New Orleans, but it was my mind. Just in case you were confused."

Stiles nodded, processing the information. It was what he suspected, but still he had to be sure. No one had quite known what to make of Isaac and Kol's predicament six months ago.

"I'm not sure I'd call running around with a maniac witch good times." Stiles said.

Kol laughed, loudly and languidly. and the sound seemed to put Isaac, if possible, even more on edge. From what Stiles could tell, Kol knew this, and prolonged it on purpose.

"If you don't mind my asking, how'd you recognize me?" Kol mused. "I don't think we met when you were in Mystic Falls."

"Damon showed me some pictures." Stiles said lightheartedly. "'Know thy enemy' and all that."

"Ah." Kol said, and his devious smile wilted slightly, the corners drooping. He had still been holding Stiles' hand, but dropped it. "Are we enemies now?"

"You tell me." Stiles said. Isaac was still holding the back of his shirt, and his grip had turned vice-like to the point of it being painful for both of them. "You going to keep scaring Isaac out of his wit's end?"

Kol chuckled, looking to Isaac briefly before settling his gaze back on Stiles. He shrugged. "It's not my fault he can't take a surprise."

Stiles furrowed his eyebrows together in confusion. "What?"

Kol grinned gloatingly. "Why don't you tell him, Isaac?"

Isaac grimaced, but bent down to whisper in Stiles' ear. It was unnecessary, given Kol could hear, but nevertheless, Stiles granted him the comfort. "Kol was resurrected by Davina." Isaac said. "An hour ago. She- she didn't tell me she was doing it... I was out getting fruit, I-"

"Where is Davina?" Stiles asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Kol cocked his head to the side. "Three blocks north of here, still shouting for you, Isaac."

Stiles glared at Kol. "Go get her." he demanded. He really wasn't suspecting Kol to comply, but he did, and one whoosh! and smartass grin later, he was gone.

Stiles whirled on Isaac, who was glaring after Kol. "Tell me everything."

Isaac sighed.

Isaac sighed, shifting his weight as he carried the bag overflowing with oranges through the bustling streets, the morning light glinting off of the rooftops, throwing stray sunbeams into his eyes. He didn't mind. With his werewolf strength, it wasn't like the bag was actually heavy, and he found that turning his eyes yellow helped with the glare. Around here, nobody noticed, or cared. He had a bit of a reputation around the block as a werewolf-witch, as much of a reputation one could have with the Originals as neighbors, and it was this people whispered about as he walked by, not his eye color. He was three blocks away from home, then two, then one, and it wasn't until he was at the door that he noticed something wrong. He sensed Davina behind the door, and she was bustling around, and that was normal enough, but there was someone else there, too, someone Isaac could not recognize but would know anywhere. The feeling made him uneasy, and this feeling was fortified by the realization that these people were speaking in hushed tones, striving for secrecy. Against his better judgement, Isaac unlocked the door and strode in, oranges and all. At first, all he saw was Davina's back to him. She was wearing a cloak, (that wasn't odd, she always had a flair for drama,) but what was odd was the aura of power that radiated around her, the kind Isaac had learned to associate with performing a powerful spell. Isaac's eyes snapped to the man she was talking to, the same moment the man's eyes snapped to him. Davina whirled to face him, but neither noticed. The oranges fell to the floor in a crash that Isaac did not hear, as Isaac stared at the man. He had never seen his face before, but he had seen his family, his life, his memories...there was no mistaking who this man was.

The man, Kol, grinned mischievously. "Hello, Isaac." he said simply.

"Isaac-" Davina said cautiously, reaching for him slowly. Isaac looked dumbstruck from her hand, to Kol's face, to the oranges scattered on the floor. Then he turned and bolted, leaving the door wide open.

Stiles stared at Isaac in alarm. "This was a dream you had a week ago?"

Isaac nodded forlornly. "Yep. And every night since. After the first dream, I kept asking Davina if she meant to bring Kol back to life, but she mostly reassured me she wasn't. Or she was just silent. I should have known she was lying."

Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. "Okay, and Kol was resurrected... Today?"

"Thirty minutes ago." Isaac said bitterly. Stiles whistled. "I happened just as I pictured it, Stiles, only I was carrying grapefruit instead of oranges. Davina was even wearing the same cloak. When I opened the door, I was more shocked from the accuracy of the dream than by Kol's return, but eventually it caught up with me, and I bolted. I panicked. I ran all around town, knowing they were both chasing after me. And then I ran into you."

"Okay." Stiles said again. "Wow. Okay. So... Kol's back. It looks like for good. What the hell are you going to do about that?"

"Talk to Davina, for one thing." Isaac said. "Ask her what the hell she was thinking, and if she's still planning on training me. Beyond that, I'm not sure. I'm a little more worried about the dream, to be honest."

"You sure about that?" Stiles asked. "Isaac, you couldn't get a word in! You were petrified!"

"I was playing my hand!" Isaac said. "I have no idea what Kol wants, but things will go easier for me if he thinks I'm scared of him."

"You are." Stiles said.

"Yeah, but these dreams are scarier." Isaac said solemnly. "Stiles, this is the third time this has happened, where one of my dreams is a perfect picture of reality. I think it means something."

Stiles looked up and down their little alley, finding it empty. "Kol will be back any second." he said urgently. "And then things will get a lot more complicated than they already are. Start talking faster."

Isaac sighed. "You probably don't know this, but I walked into like the worst thing ever when I came back here. The Originals are going through some stuff, and I've been staying out of it, even though Davina hasn't. But she tells me about what she's going through, with the vampires and everything, and at a certain point, maybe a few weeks ago, I stopped being surprised. I even asked questions, like 'was this person wearing red,' or things like that, and I was right every time. Then one day she came home, blood on her face, and she was about to tell me what happened, but I stopped her. Instead, I told her what had happened. And I had gotten every last detail right. Down to the color of everyone's shoes. We figured that I had been dreaming about these things before they happened, like some kind of witchy premonition."

"You get premonitions?" Stiles asked incredulously, probably taking this easier than expected, but oh well, his life was weird. "Spot-on premontintons. Are you serious?"

"Deadly." Isaac said, and he looked it. He scoffed. "Davina even said it was normal, that some witches have this power, that it's passed along generations, that I'll learn to control it- Christ, I TOLD HER!"

His shout was unexpected, and Stiles jumped in alarm. Isaac de-escalated pretty quickly, though, and ran his fingers through his hair, more angry and fearful than violent. "I told her about my dream about Kol, and she knew what it meant, and she freaking did it anyway!"

"What?" Stiles asked. "What do you mean, what it meant?"

"Haven't you been listening?" Isaac asked in strung-out anger. "I dreamt about bloodbaths, vampires, battles, my friend getting hurt! Stiles, everything I dream about is something bad. These aren't just premonitions, they're warnings!"

Stiles nodded in rapid understanding, and a sinking feeling was settling into his gut. It was an itch he had ever since first running into Isaac, but now, it was full-on suspicion.

Isaac wasn't looking at him in the eye.

"Okay," Stiles said, raising his hands in a sign of good faith. "I get it. Kol's back and it means something bad, and it sucks, and we'll deal with it, but in the meantime, it doesn't sound like your powers are anything to worry about. However, I have to ask- well, you didn't seem to surprised to see me here. Startled, yes, but not shocked."

Isaac's mouth pressed into a thin frown. His eyes glinted guiltily.

"Isaac," Stiles said slowly, "If you know why I'm here, then you know why I have to ask. What did you see?"

Isaac's gaze turned that much more fearful. "Dean." he said firmly. "With black eyes." He sighed. "I guess part of me was hoping you wouldn't drag me into this. I should have known better."

"Hey, it's alright." Stiles reassured. "Dean doesn't know where I am. We don't have to face him yet, we can deal with your problem first. That way at least you'll owe me one before charging against literal Hell on Earth."

Isaac smiled weakly and chuckled half-heartedly. But then his smile dropped, and shattered on the floor at his feet.

"They're coming back."

Stiles had a second to compose himself before he was staring into two very angry brown eyes.

"Davina!" Stiles greeted with transparent cheerfulness. "How nice to see you again! It's been so long, you know, we really have to catch up!"

Davina, predictably, wasn't looking at him. Instead, she was glowering at Isaac with untempered fury. Kol, it turns out, was passed out at their feet.

"Stiles," Davina said with bitter annoyance, still glaring at Isaac, "Would you help me carry him back home? It seems he exhausted all of his energy because someone couldn't stand still and let me explain things."

"Sure!" Stiles chirped cheerfully, and as he quickly grabbed Kol's legs- Isaac grabbed his shoulders after a pointed glare from Davina- and as they hoisted him off of the stone street, Stiles couldn't help flash back to his first night in New Orleans, when he had been carrying Kol- or Isaac- through the city, with Davina at his side, and a very different person helping him.

Isaac seemed to follow his train of thought. He caught Stiles' eye after a minute, an unreadable expression on his face. "This remind you of something?"

"Yeah, when you were hexed." Stiles huffed. Geez, Kol was heavy. "You look like you have something you wanna say, go ahead."

"It's just-" Isaac said skittishly. "Dean looks scary. This looks bad. I know you, you're going to want to get all the help you can get. But him, are you really going to get him? Where is he, anyway?"

"Boston." Stiles said. "He told me he likes seagulls. And you're right, it's dangerous. He makes loose cannons look stable. But I don't think we have a choice."

"I think you're right." Isaac said. Davina wasn't commenting, even though she knew very well what they were talking about. Quick as a flash, Isaac looked down at Kol. Then he looked up. "Everything happening, it looks like things are shaping up to very problematic. More than the three of us, or-" he grimaced at Kol. "Four of us can deal with. Jesus, with him back, it might almost be like old times."

Now it was Stiles' turn to grimace. "God, I hope not."

Isaac shot him a questioning look as they weaved Kol's body through another alley. "How are you planning on getting him here, anyway?"

"It depends on how good Mason is at following orders." Stiles said cryptically.

Isaac sighed. "Nothing's changed, has it. You promised Scott you wouldn't do this, but you're still cooking up a master plan, aren't you."

"Scott will thank me." Stiles said sharply. "We're all cut off from one another! We're dead in the water! My plan is the only chance we've got!"

"Well, then you mind sparing some details for your accomplice?" Isaac asked, but his tone made it clear that he wasn't really asking.

Stiles sighed. He looked sideways at Davina, who was scouting out the next street. "LATER" he mouthed at Isaac.

Isaac nodded.

"Dean," Crowley said, a few states away, in some dingy bar where Dean was throwing darts, "do you even have a plan?"

"My plan was to kill you." Dean grumbled, hitting a perfect bullseye. "But seeing as you talked me out of it, no, I don't have a backup."

"We need to find Stiles." Crowley urged, inwardly congratulating himself for being the amazing actor he always knew he was. "You're wasting your time chasing down his gang of mutts. Stiles is the only one who can tell us what we need to know!"

"Yeah, and who's fault is that!" Dean roared, turning on Crowley, causing him to shrink ever-so-subtly into the floor. "None of this would even be happening if you hadn't let him get the drop on you!"

"We wouldn't be on this cross-country chase if you had been smarter!" Crowley retorted, throwing caution to the winds. "You took Stiles from his pack's grasp and left them all there, unharmed. What, you thought they were just going to wait for you to come back?"

"Alright, I wasn't thinking!" Dean relented, throwing another dart, another bullseye. "That's one screw up, but you, you're up to two. Don't let it be a third."

"Please." Crowley said, rolling his eyes. "Let's not forget who's the boss of who."

But in his gut, he wasn't sure.