Chapter Twenty Four

...

Stiles watched as the world around him went dark, the Nemeton's shoots closing around him and obscuring the stars overhead. He blinked and in the next moment when he opened his eyes, the darkness was replaced with pure white.

"Oh, fuck. Shit," he cursed, blinking rapidly at the sudden change, his eyes stinging.

Sitting up on the Nemeton's stump, Stiles rubbed his eyes once more before looking around the room. It looked exactly like the room he'd seen on getting out of the ice tub, pure white and not much else. Sliding off the stump - was it his imagination or was the stump taller than it had been a second ago? - Stiles stood on the floor and wriggled his bare toes, looking at the white shirt and pants he was wearing.

"I'm pretty sure I'll be in trouble if I lose my Kevlar vest. I get it back after this, right?" he called to the room, not really expecting an answer.

"If you survive, sure thing."

Stiles spun on his heel, eyes wide, and came face to face with himself. "What the fuck? We stopped the Nogitsune. What, or who, the actual fuck are you?!"

Other Stiles snorted. "Calm down; it's just easier to talk to you when I have a larynx, and your face is one of the nicer ones available. Would you prefer a different one?" Other Stiles asked, his face flicking between several faces: Paige, the Dread Doctors, the Ghost Riders, the Nogitsune, the Oni...

"Stop! Just stick with my face," Stiles muttered, shuddering at the thought of talking with the Nogitsune again. "You're the Nemeton, aren't you?"

Other Stiles smirked. "Give him a prize, Johnny!"

"Asshole."

"So're you."

Stiles couldn't really argue with that. "So... What now?"

Other Stiles shrugged. "You heal me."

"Uh huh. And how do I do that?" Stiles asked, looking from Other Stiles to the tree stump - again, it looked taller than it had been only a few moments ago - and then down to his own hands, completely empty of anything that might actually help heal the Nemeton.

"Believe."

Stiles looked up sharply, frowning at his other self. "That's it?"

"A bit of blood wouldn't hurt. Well, it wouldn't hurt me, at least," Other Stiles amended with a smile that was a little too sharp.

"I don't have anything to - " Stiles cut off abruptly when the Nemeton stump behind Other Stiles grew several large spikes of wood. "Never mind."

Other Stiles smirked and gave a flourishing wave. "Go right ahead. The sooner we finish here, the sooner you can save your pack. Too bad I don't have your boyfriend's face."

Stiles was about ninety percent certain that the Nemeton was flirting with him. It wasn't a pleasant thought to dwell on - especially considering the Nogitsune was probably in there somewhere - and he headed to the stump without answering.

The spikes looked far too similar to needles for Stiles' liking and he hesitated, looking back over to Other Stiles. "Why does it have to be blood? Why can't I... I don't know, just spit and believe?"

Other Stiles rolled his eyes. "Because blood is more potent than saliva, and your life force is considered blood, not spit. There's also the fact that blood brought me back the first time around, and therefore, blood is needed to fix the total fuckery that's become of me since then... I thought you were meant to be the smart one?"

"I am, which is why I'm questioning the need for my blood before I give it to a goddamn tree."

Other Stiles just smirked and shrugged. Before he could say anything, the room around them started to tear apart, like claws were digging into the fabric of reality itself. Stiles saw that Other Stiles was pale and the sharp spikes on the Nemeton's stump had shrunk.

"We're being attacked. Hurry," Other Stiles urged him.

Stiles nodded, took a deep breath, and scratched the back of his arm on the spikes, blood forming and dripping down onto the Nemeton's stump.

As suddenly as the world had started to shred, it stopped. Other Stiles breathed a sigh of relief and Stiles couldn't help but echo the sigh with one of his own.

"Believe, Stiles. Believe I'll be healed, believe I'll grow again. Believe with every part of yourself," Other Stiles said, voice wavering as his form started to shimmer and disappear.

Stiles inhaled again and closed his eyes. He believed the Nemeton to be as tall and proud as it should have been for years now; believed that all of the prisoners were housed and unable to escape, no matter what; believed the branches and leaves stretching up to the sky; believed that nothing would be able to tear it down again. Stiles didn't want anyone in Beacon Hills to go through this shit ever again.

He had one more thing to add to all of this - coming close to praying like he hadn't done since he was six and his mother was dying - and Stiles believed with every part of his being that this last thing would work.

...

Stiles opened his eyes, hearing a howl echoing below him. Frowning and blinking, Stiles realised that he was on one of the Nemeton's branches, and the sky seemed much closer than it had been when he closed his eyes. Sitting up carefully, Stiles realised that he was very high off the ground. He could see over the tops of the trees around him, the Nemeton towering over the rest of the forest. Stiles gulped - he'd done this, he'd believed that he could do this, and he had. He inhaled shakily, then forced himself to redirect his attention away from the forest and looked at his arm; it was scratched, but he was no longer bleeding. It was a better outcome than he'd expected, really.

Scooting forward on the branch, Stiles clung to the Nemeton's trunk, his heart pounding a million beats per second. He tried to count and breathe, to gather enough courage to look down. With the wind whipping at him and his eyes squeezed shut tight, Stiles didn't think he could do that just yet.

"Anyone down there?" Stiles called out.

It was obvious that there were people down there - he could still hear the fighting, after all - but Stiles had no idea who was winning. Licking his lips nervously, Stiles opened his eyes and slowly looked down. A thick branch was beneath him, easy to reach if he decided to move some time this year, and it was effectively blocking both him and the others from each other's view.

While Stiles' tree-climbing skills were pretty good, it was the whole getting down from the tree that was usually the problem, as evidenced by him almost falling out of the tree in front of the McCall's home over five years ago.

Typical, Stiles thought to himself, he could get himself into these situations easily enough, but getting out of them was another matter all together.

There was another howl from the fight below; it was loud and pained and Stiles recognised who it belonged to instantly: Derek.

His hands and legs trembling, Stiles forced himself to move. There was no way in Hell he was going to sit around on a branch while Derek was getting hurt. The branches were evenly spaced, enough so that Stiles was able to climb down easily enough and he was at the bottom branches in a matter of minutes. Crouching low, Stiles looked at the fight going on down below to determine what was going on and who was winning.

Stiles noticed that both Gerard and Kate weren't in the clearing, and from what he could see, Derek had turned into an actual wolf and seemed determined to fight every hunter that remained in the clearing.

What the fuck had happened?

...

Allison cried out when she saw her father collapse to his knees, blood loss finally overcoming him. She was by him in an instant, keeping pressure on the wound, blood seeping out and staining her hands. She could feel her eyes prick with tears, a lump forming in her throat. "No, no. I just got back, you can't... Not now, please."

Chris breathed, a wet sound through the blood, and smiled up at her.

"Uh, Mr. Argent, sir? I can help."

Allison looked up at Scott and saw that his eyes were bright red, and she looked down to her father quickly, wondering if he'd do what her mother hadn't been able to do.

"I'm... I'm not calling you Alpha," Chris said between clenched teeth, but nodded.

Scott nodded, dropped to his knees, and bit Chris Argent.

Malia was one of the few who seemed happy with Derek's ongoing fight, calling out both encouragement and abuse every so often. "Come on, you idiot! You've left yourself wide open!"

"Malia, if you're going to yell at someone, at least make it constructive."

Malia spun around at the sound of Peter's voice, her eyes wide. Beside her, Yelena tensed and looked ready to shoot him.

"You're late," Malia snapped, glaring at Peter.

"I think I arrived right on time, actually. You weren't hurt?" Peter asked, looking over her and sniffing to determine her injuries for himself.

"Nothing that won't heal," Malia replied with a dismissive shrug.

Beside her, Yelena snorted and rolled her eyes. "You weren't saying that when those noise rods were going off."

Peter looked from Malia to Yelena, then to the fight behind them. "The hunters belong to the Argents, so where are the Argents? It's unlike them to leave people standing."

"The tree ate them," Malia said, grinning broadly.

There was a scream and gurgle behind them, Malia turning to see the hunter collapse to the ground, his throat torn out. She huffed, annoyed that she'd missed the action, and glared over her shoulder at Peter for distracting her. He held his hands up in a gesture of peace and smiled.

"Uh, hello? Anyone want to help me down from here?"

"Stiles?" the Sheriff asked, sitting up immediately, only to be held back down by Liam and Mason.

"We'll get him, sir," Mason promised.

"Jump, I'll catch you," Liam called.

"Oh, hell no, you puppy. What happened to my dad?" Stiles called down, clinging to his branch that felt far too high off the ground for his liking.

"Shot in the leg. He'll be fine," Mason added.

"Are you sure?"

"It's just a graze; I'm fine," the Sheriff replied.

There was a groaning sound from Derek, who had shifted back at the sound of Stiles' voice, and he stood up gingerly, ignoring everyone except Stiles. He was at the base of the Nemeton in a heartbeat, looking up into the branches to see Stiles sitting there, holding the Nemeton's trunk.

"You're okay," Derek breathed, feeling the tension leave his body.

"You're naked."

"Damn straight he is."

"Li, don't make me hurt you."

They snorted. "You've got to get down from the tree first, Stilinski."

"Jump, I'll catch you," Derek said.

There was a moment of silence before Stiles tentatively agreed. Liam threw up his hands, muttering under his breath.

A roar came from across the clearing and they both looked over to see Chris arching up off the ground, his eyes turning gold and fangs forming. In the sky above them, the moon was full and shone brightly.

"Dad?" Allison asked hesitantly, reaching out for him.

Chris' eyes lost their gold brilliance almost immediately, and he looked from his daughter to the healing wound on his stomach. His claws retracted as he held Allison's hand tightly, then turned to face Scott. "Thank you for saving my life."

Scott smiled brightly. "No problem."

"I'm still not calling you Alpha," Chris muttered as he stood up slowly, still not willing to let go of Allison's hand.

There was a soft cough from beside them, and Peter looked at them with red eyes, a smirk playing on his face as he gave Chris a very obvious once-over. "Allow me to be of assistance."

Stiles snickered at the surprise on Chris' face, then looked down again. "Uh, just... one question before I get down: what happened to Argent Crazy #1 and Argent Crazy #2?"

"The Nemeton took them," Mohammed called.

"Oh, good, it worked. They won't be getting out of there ever. Sorry, not sorry, Chris."

Chris just shrugged, not exactly regretting the loss of his family members after they'd tried to kill him.

"Ready, Der?" Stiles asked, his anxiety skyrocketing.

"Ready," Derek promised.

Stiles threw himself from the tree branch, his eyes shut tight, and let out a grunt of pain as he was caught in Derek's arms, bridal style.

"You're okay, Stiles. I've got you," Derek said, pressing a quick kiss to his temple.

"Never doubted it for a second," Stiles replied, reluctant to get to his feet and leave Derek's embrace. "Hey, I got my vest back, nice." He dropped down beside his father to see that he was all right for himself.

The Sheriff batted away his hands and pulled him in for a hug instead. "I'm fine, son. It's just a graze. Melissa will tell you the same thing," he added. Glancing from Stiles up to Derek, the Sheriff turned his attention to Liam and Mason. "Would you find something for Derek to wear, please?"

Both boys nodded firmly and left as fast as possible.

"Sorry, Sheriff."

"Unfortunately, nudity isn't the worst thing I've seen on a full moon," the Sheriff muttered. "Parrish, you all right?" he called out, realising he hadn't seen his Deputy in a while and couldn't see him with the others around him.

"Fine, Sheriff. Just making sure our friend can go back to Eichen without any troubles now," Parrish said, nodding to the statuesque hellhound at the edge of the clearing.

Certain that his father was all right, Stiles stood up and looked out across the clearing. "Anyone hurt or injured? If we can figure out who needs to go to the hospital, then we can determine who can stay behind to help clean this up."

"Does therapy count?" Lydia asked in a mutter, Tomika laughing beside her.

"I'm a little beaten up; I wouldn't say no to some bandages," Jade called out.

The banshees' screaming Gerard to death had occurred in the middle of Jade fighting with a hunter, who hadn't held back on seeing that his opponent was preoccupied. Saying she needed bandages was an understatement, considering the amount of bruises and blood that covered her arms and legs.

"I've got a few bullets that need to be dug out," Teresa said, her vest and upper arms riddled with holes. Her werecougar shift was enough to stop from bleeding out, but the bullets were still in her body and she wasn't strong enough to heal the wounds on her own. Teresa was just grateful that wolfsbane didn't affect her as it did the werewolves.

"I'll probably need stitches," Parrish said, looking to the claw marks and knife wounds that littered his body.

"Uh, I think I have a concussion," Grant added, wincing in pain.

Marcie appeared next to him, muttering as she shone a torch in his eyes. "That's what you get for fainting at the smallest thing."

"He turned into an actual goddamn wolf, Marcie!"

A few people snickered, but the noise was cut off by another voice.

"Uh, guys? A little help would be appreciated. Y'know, if you're still alive," Ethan's voice came from the radios.

Jackson and Isaac were gone before anyone could say or do anything.

"We'll be right there, Ethan. Isaac and Jackson will probably beat us," Stiles added into the radio. "Guess we're all heading to the hospital, after all."

"What about Dr. Deaton?" Scott asked. "He's helped a lot of people and... he's a good person, really. There must be some sort of explanation for... all of this," he said, wincing when he saw the cuts and bruises, the blood and scratches, the people unconscious or dead, and the Nemeton scratched by his own claws.

"I'll stay here and see if I can work something to make sure he won't be able to hypnotise you again," Sara said. "Whether he's arrested for all of this is up to Agent McCall and the Sheriff."

"I will stay with you," Kuhle offered immediately, ignoring Li when they snorted and rolled their eyes at him.

"Good, you can help me clean this area up," Sean said, raising an eyebrow at Kuhle when his expression fell.

"Yes, sir."

Stiles grinned. "Anyone else want to stay behind?"

"Shut up and hurry up," Malia snapped, running out of the clearing and towards the hospital.

"I don't know that my shoes can take any more of this unnecessary walking. Please tell me you know where the closest car is?" Lydia asked Tomika.

She grinned and nodded. "This way," Tomika said, then held her hand out.

Lydia looked between Tomika's offered hand and her grin, then smiled and accepted her hand, walking out of the clearing with Tomika by her side.

"You remember where the hospital is?" Stiles asked Erica, Boyd and Allison.

Erica raised an eyebrow at him. "Really, Batman?"

"Uh, okay, stupid question. You want to ride with us?" he clarified.

"Do you still have the Jeep?" Boyd asked.

"Yes, he does!" Marcie called.

"Good; I'll drive," Boyd said, holding his hand out for the keys.

"Peter has offered to take me to the hospital and take Chris with us to help work on his control. Or flirt with him, I still haven't decided," the Sheriff said; across the clearing, Chris blushed and Peter just smirked.

"Knowing him, it'll be both," Derek muttered. He was holding onto Stiles' hand and for the moment, he was refusing to let go.

"We'll see you at the hospital, okay?" Marcie called out, leaving with Grant and Li.

The others realised they had to get to the hospital sooner rather than later and started through the forest, heading for their cars or straight to the hospital.

Chris didn't want to let go of Allison, but Peter convinced him to let Allison go with Boyd and Erica, as he'd be able to focus on his anchor at a distance. Rafe sat beside Scott in the cruiser, the Sheriff sitting on the other side of Scott in the back of the cruiser, while Chris sat in the passenger seat. Peter was heading to the driver's seat, only to be stopped by Stiles.

"Don't you have to be going? Important fight at the hospital, loved ones possibly dying, etc.?" Peter asked pointedly.

"If you hurt anyone - my father, Malia, Derek, any of my friends, or my pack - I will hunt you down myself, understood?"

There was something in Stiles' eyes that stopped Peter's usual sarcastic retort, and he looked from the car (the occupants were obviously listening, though they pretended not to), to where Derek was with his small initial pack and Allison. The three werewolves were standing closer to Stiles than any others and Peter realised what he meant by 'my pack'. He gave a brief nod. "I understand, Alpha."

...

End of the twenty-fourth chapter.

Author's note: Teresa's backstory

Teresa grew up in a city and spent a lot of her teenage years doing parkour to keep her werecougar sated. She healed easier and was able to run without shifting but it was still a thrill and she could always analyse everything and everywhere she could/would jump in advance. She has a view to retire somewhere with a forest, but in the meantime, she'll stick with her parkour. Teresa was very surprised to get an application & invitation from the FBI, but thought it sounded cool and decided to apply.