Stiles hated driving through storms, but he'd agreed to meet with Scott and Derek and Stiles wasn't about to let a bit of rain stop him. He pulled up at Danny's apartment building and slid out of the car; carrying with him two six packs. Hopefully the wolves would take the option to sample the three beverages as the peace offering it was supposed to be. He sprinted up the sidewalk and into the covered walkway, eyes finding the number 107 apartment before he'd even finished shaking off the rain.

The door opened as he approached and Danny stuck his head out, "Hey Stiles."

"Hey Danny," Stiles said, "How are you?"

"I'm good," Danny said, "and you?"

Stiles held up the six packs, "Just hoping for a couple of taste testers."

Danny grinned and moved out of the way, "I've been asked to give everyone a bit of space, but Isaac's here. I've tried your Alpha Ale already anyways."

"We decided to market it as Double A, actually. Double A, Double B, and the OC," Stiles replied as he stepped inside. "Come by the pub when we open either way. We've got an excellent chef."

"I've already planned on it," Danny replied.

"I'll see you on Saturday at least, right?" Stiles asked.

"Definitely," Danny replied.

"Later then," Stiles said with a quick grin before turning to face the people inside.

Danny's apartment wasn't small, but it wasn't exceptionally large. It felt a lot smaller with three werewolves standing around inside. Stiles eyed them for a moment before moving to put his burden on the bar height counter in the kitchen. "I brought drinks," Stiles said, "samples from the brewery. You might not be able to get drunk, but you can at least tell me if you like the taste." He pulled out a bottle of hard cider and turned, jumping when he realized Scott was less than a foot away. "Dude, personal space. You aren't Castiel and I'm not Dean." It was enough to make Stiles think what the hell, brain? Because he didn't blurt out things like that anymore.

"Stiles," Scott said tightly.

"Scott," Stiles said, holding out the bottle, "Hard cider?"

"What is Alpha Ale?" Scott asked.

Stiles grinned, "It's one of the beers we'll be selling at the pub, but we're actually calling it the Double A. I've also got a nice lager too, Double B." He slid carefully around Scott, "There's enough for all of you to have a bottle of each. I'm interested in taste reviews if you decide to try it. If not, Danny will drink it so don't worry about it."

"Why Alpha Ale?" Isaac asked.

"Because I learned to brew from a man who named his product 'Bat Beer' and I appreciated his sense of irony? Because I like alliteration. Mostly because it was the first beer I made that people actually liked, or at least they didn't spit it out in ten seconds or less." Stiles twisted the lid off his bottle. "Was there a reason you guys went to such lengths for a meeting on neutral ground? I'm not a wolf, a rival pack, or otherwise a threat to your territory."

"Maybe we just wanted to see you," Scott said. "It wasn't like you told us you were leaving."

"It's not like I needed your permission to go," Stiles said. "I got an offer I couldn't refuse and I took it. Maybe I wasn't supposed to be gone six years, but I needed it."

"Did you ever think that maybe we needed you?" Scott asked.

Derek jumped, Isaac stumbled back, and Scott's eyes went red.

"What?" Stiles asked.

"Lydia," Scott said, heading for the door.

It swung open and Danny stumbled in, "You heard it?" He asked.

"Yeah," Scott said.

"What happened?" Stiles asked.

"Lydia screamed," Danny said. "She's supposed to be in town this evening, but I didn't think she was here yet."

"We need to go," Scott said.

"Great," Stiles said, "where are we going?"

"You…" Derek growled.

"Do any of you know where Lydia is?" Stiles asked. He put his drink on Danny's table. "Danny, do you have a black bowl."

"Funny enough, I do," Danny said dryly. "Someone gave it to me for Christmas." He headed into the kitchen with Stiles on his heels.

"Imagine that," Stiles said cheerfully. "I wonder why they did that."

"What are you doing?" Scott asked.

"Scrying," Stiles said. He took the bowl from Danny and filled it with water. He put the bowl on the counter and rested his hands on either side of it.

"Stiles," Scott said.

"Shut up," Stiles replied absently as he stared into the water. Automatically, he fell into meditative breathing, which calmed his racing heart and thoughts as he slipped into a meditative trance. Lydia Caroline Martin, show me where you are.

He recognized the road into Beacon Hills, recognized then instead of now. Lydia was driving, the radio a soft pulse. They passed a sign informing drivers of an upcoming rest stop and Lydian put her blinker on. The image wavered as Stiles wondered about that, then focused again as he shoved the stray question away. Lydia pulled onto a paved road that ran less than a hundred feet before widening into a turnabout with a historical marker. Lydia got out of her car and looked around. For a moment she looked stunned, then troubled, and then resigned as she moved forward past the sign.

The trees closed in for a moment and then widened in a way that was not entirely natural. There was a huge pile of dead bodies that had been ripped to pieces. Lydia stared, and then she screamed, a Banshee's scream that rippled outward with power.

There was a flash of light and Lydia's scream cut off. Then she fell to the ground. The vision abruptly went dark and a voice ripped through Stiles's head, "The Bean Sidhe is ours."

Stiles threw himself backwards with a yell as a migraine ripped through him.

"Stiles?" Someone caught and steadied him.

Stiles blinked rapidly and the room came into focus somewhat. It was hard to tell through the throbbing in his temples, the way the light felt like glass scraping over his eyes, and general nausea. Derek was steadying him and Stiles shrugged him off, only to grab the counter as his head spun.

"Stiles," Scott said, "your nose is bleeding."

"Yeah, that happens," Stiles croaked. A paper towel appeared in his hand and Stiles blocked his nose, trying to find the right words to explain what he'd seen, and not seen. "Something grabbed Lydia. She was at a historical marker out on eighteen. There was a sign for a rest stop a mile ahead. There was a mass grave too. Someone killed at least a dozen people and dumped them, knowing that Lydia wouldn't be able to resist the call of violent death."

"And the nosebleed?" Scott asked.

Stiles shook his head then groaned as the throbbing increased. "It's just a way of them telling me to back off. Even sent a message, 'The Bean Sidhe is ours.'"

"But who?" Scott said.

"Not a clue," Stiles replied. He checked the towel and pressed a clean spot to his nose, hoping not make the pounding worse. "The wording is familiar though." He frowned and looked down at the towel, but there was no more blood. "I can't see straight, would one of you drive me home? I need a painkiller."

"What about our friends?" Derek asked.

"They know nothing about the supernatural. They'll probably find out, but I respected that you guys would want to know when it happens." Stiles said. "So far as they'll know, I just pulled a migraine. Not that surprising really."

"Why wouldn't it be surprising?" Derek asked.

"Karyna got me in the head with a staff this morning," Stiles said.

"I'll drive Stiles," Danny said, "You know I'm not good with what you're going to be seeing."

"Thanks Danny," Stiles said, giving in and closing his eyes. "You can keep the beer. Karyna brought a couple of six packs home for us too."

Warm hands gripped his shoulders, "Come on Stiles. You'll feel better soon."

Stiles leaned into Danny's side and let himself be steered away.

KKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

If Marci hadn't spent a year training herself not to react to Stiles's improbable life, she probably would have gone screaming mad by now. It was as if the universe had it out for Stiles, and she could trace the cause right back here to Beacon Hills. Back when Stiles first mentioned coming back to Beacon Hills, Marci had been so tempted to knock him out and drag him as far away as possible. She had never expected helping a kid with a panic attack would end with two crazy best friends, a brewpub, and someone helping Stiles out of a car with a bloody nose.

"What the hell," Karyna snarled as she threw open the door. "Stiles!"

Marci hesitated, but didn't cross the threshold; instead she leaned around the doorframe, allowing her to wrap one hand around the katana on the wall. It looked like a decorative piece, but the steel in the sword was deadly.

"I'm Danny," the man was saying as he let Stiles lean on him. "Stiles got this migraine while, uh, talking with Scott and Derek so I said I'd bring him home."

Marci could just bet Stiles had been talking, he'd probably been screaming.

"Bring him up here," Karyna said, "there's no need for him to kill himself on those stairs." She ducked under Stiles's other arm and steered them towards the front door. Marci let go of the katana and ran for the bathroom to grab a small bottle of the painkiller Stiles and his herbalist friend swore by. When she came back out into the living room, Stiles had been settled on the couch.

"Here," Marci said, popping the cork, "painkiller."

Stiles didn't actually open his eyes until the bottle was in his hand, then he very carefully drank the contents. Whatever Stiles and his-friend-the-herbalist put in those vials smelled like ass, tasted liked ass, but worked faster than anything Marci had ever tried. In fact, Stiles was up and moving within thirty seconds, looking wired. "Danny," he said, "I know what it is!"

"What?" Danny asked, looking stunned.

"Lydia, I know who has her," Stiles said. "Bane Sidhe! He didn't say banshee, it was two words. He pronounced it as Bane and then Sidhe. Not many people say it that way naturally, and not that distinctly. Given the lack of a recognizable human accent, and the back blast, that was a Sidhe. Probably Unseleighe, because a Seleighe would have just killed her if they were going to notice her at all and Lydia was definitely alive."

"Do you know how to get her back?" Danny asked quietly.

"You have to go into the court and that can be dangerous," Stiles said, "especially since you'd probably have to fight your way back out." He turned to look at Marci and Karyna.

"Whatever you need," Karyna said.

"I'll be expecting an explanation at some point," Marci added, crossing her arms.

"Totally," Stiles said, looking at Danny again. "Are you any kind of fighter?"

Danny shrugged, "I know how, I mean, it's not like Derek left me without any clue about fang and claw, it's just not my thing. I'm a goalie; I'm not even a defenseman."

"Right," Stiles said. Because that made sense in the real world. Marci glanced over at Karyna, but the dark skinned girl was frowning and focused on Stiles. Stiles groaned, sounding like a dying cat, "I'm going to have to make nice to the puppies, aren't I?"

Danny snorted. "If you ever want call them that to their faces make sure I'm there. The look on Derek's face will be camera worthy."

"I'll give you advance notice and we can put him on YouTube," Stiles promised him.

"But yes," Danny continued, "you'll probably need to make nice with them."

"Isaac's least objectionable," Stiles muttered, starting pass, "but Derek's actually a moderately decent fighter. It won't be Scott because he'd never control himself." He threw his hands up, "Why aren't there more choices? Shouldn't Scott want to build a bigger Pack?"

"He tried," Danny said softly, "about a year after. The girl died."

Marci started to reach out to hug Stiles, but Karyna moved first. They both hated that look on Stiles's face. It was almost like his post nightmare face, the one that said that everyone had died in his dreams and he was terrified they were still dead, but he couldn't check because they just weren't there.

"Who?" Stiles croaked, sounding like he had way too much weight on him.

"Her name was Francine," Danny said, "everyone called her Frankie. She was crazy about parkour and hip-hop music. She was in danger from a windego and Scott bit her in part by accident trying to save her. She couldn't make the change. Scott swore he'd never bite anyone else, not for love or money. She moved here after you left."

Marci edged over to Danny and carefully put her hand on his shoulder. He stared at her for a moment and Marci smiled tentatively. "I don't understand," she said softly, "but my best friend died when I was a kid. That's a terrible feeling to have."

Danny leaned into her grip and smiled back, "I didn't really get to know her. I wasn't… part of it back then."

Stiles cleared his throat, "I'm going to call Derek, and hopefully we can catch them before they get to Lydia's car. Karyna, Marci, here's the short version. Werewolves are real, Peter, Danny, Derek, Scott, and Isaac are werewolves, and I can do actual magic, not just our stuff. We also have friends who are a Kitsune and a werecoyote. We had a horrible year after Scott was bit and it ended with three friends dead, and a person I probably would have been good friends with if it weren't for our past history as well. Our friend Lydia is a banshee, meaning she can find those killed by violent death, sense it coming, and scream really, really loudly, among other things. Lydia's been stolen by a Faerie Court, probably Unseleighe because they're douche nozzles like that. We're going to have to go into the Faerie Lands to get Lydia back, which I can do with some help."

Marci blinked and nodded, "All right, let's see what we can do."

Stiles freed himself from Karyna and held up his cell phone, "Step one is to call Derek and get him over here. Step two is to arm up."

Frankie is not Liam genderswapped, just inspired by.