Chapter Twenty Nine
...
Stiles just laughed at Tomika's retort, pulling Derek back into the hospital so they could continue their search for Scott.
"I'm telling you, it doesn't even smell like Scott has been in here; he has to be somewhere else," Derek said for the third time.
"Yeah, well, we're searching the hospital from top to bottom until we find him. I don't want to disappoint Melissa; do you?"
"Of course not! But he's not here," Derek said adamantly.
A pink bubblegum bubble appeared in front of them. "Who're you guys looking for?" the bubble asked.
"Marcie, we can't see you," Stiles said.
Marcie popped the bubble, winding the gum around her finger and watching as it disappeared from sight. "Yeah, I know, it's more fun this way. So who're you looking for?"
"Scott, have you seen him?"
"Sure, he's outside helping with the patients."
"What?"
"He's been outside with Ari the whole time. He's totally sulking about it too," Marcie said with a laugh.
"No, I'm not!" Scott's voice came from the two-way.
"Dude, what the hell? We've been looking for you everywhere!" Stiles replied incredulously.
"According to what you told us on the plane, the Calaveras would have killed Scott for turning Liam, so I kept him as far away from the Calaveras as possible. Do you have a problem with this?" Ari asked, her voice sharp.
"No, no problem at all! Thank you for keeping Scott alive and safe and for putting up with his sulking. I've been there, and I know it's not pretty. How did you get past the puppy-dog eyes?"
Ari shook her head and handed the two-way back to Scott. "See, thank you is an appropriate response to keeping you outside."
Scott scowled down at his feet, but sighed and looked up at the siren. "Thank you for keeping me alive and safe, Ari."
"Not a problem. Go help Parrish with your mother," she said, nodding over to where Melissa was looking through the crowd, Parrish holding her upright carefully.
Scott walked a few steps, testing the distance so he wouldn't be pulled back by Ari's voice as he had been before. When he realised he could go further than a metre, Scott bolted down to the parking lot to find his mother.
...
Mohammed helped the hospital staff usher the patients inside once more. The others helped when they realised that they wouldn't be able to leave until the patients were inside, and tried to get everyone into the hospital at a faster pace than they'd been evacuated. Most were too tired to argue, some practically sleep-walked back to their beds and blankets. Mr. Lancet, on the other hand, had apparently tasted sweet, sweet freedom and he refused to go back inside until Ari eventually coerced him with soft lilting words. Again, the children followed Teddy's whistling without a word or noise of complaint.
"That's still creepy as all hell," Tasha muttered, shivering.
"Has anyone heard from Sean yet? Or Sara or Kuhle?" Mia asked, looking at everyone in turn, receiving negative responses each time.
"I'm fairly sure those aren't fireworks," Li said, indicating to the glowing lights in the sky.
Everyone looked up into the sky, surprised to see the green and blue glowing lights over the forest. The top of the Nemeton could just be seen.
"We're not going back into the forest, are we?" Marcie asked with a groan; the coffee was wearing off and she wanted to do nothing more than sleep for a full twenty-four hours, maybe more.
"I'll go," Isaac volunteered. "I'll get there faster than most of you," he added with a shrug.
"I'll take that bet, Curly," Malia said, grinning.
"You know my name, Malia."
She just laughed. "C'mon, Curly, race you!"
Isaac kissed Ethan and Jackson before racing after her.
"Howl if you need help!" Peter called after Malia.
"Yes, Mum!" she called over her shoulder sarcastically.
"Stiles, why is Derek carrying you?" Scott asked, frowning at his best friend.
"Adrenaline's worn off; too tired to walk."
"Okay, but why is he carrying you bridal style?"
"Shut up, I'm snuggling."
Derek rolled his eyes in the fondest way possible.
"Nice to see you're looking out for your old injured father," the Sheriff said, grinning. Stiles struggled to get out of Derek's arms immediately, but was waved off by his father. "Don't worry about it, son. It was just a graze, and I'm fine," he added, nodding down to his leg. A pristine white bandage could be seen through the hole in his trousers.
Stiles sagged in relief, Derek shifting him slightly. "Don't do that to me again. Desk duty for the rest of the year, d'you hear me?"
"Considering the amount of people that come into the station... Never mind," Parrish cut off abruptly when both the Sheriff and Stiles glared at him.
"Desk duty, got it. You go and get some rest; you look like you need it," the Sheriff said.
Stiles didn't bother arguing and simply nodded. "We'll see you before we leave tomorrow."
"I'll be at the airport, you know," the Sheriff said with a smile. He turned to the rest of Stiles' pack, seeing everyone in varying stages of exhaustion. Waving Parrish over, the Sheriff took his two-way radio and changed the frequency to the police. "All available units, you are required at the hospital to transport civilians to the Beacon Hills Lodge."
The police units that had been patrolling the town earlier reported in almost immediately, grateful for something to do, and the Sheriff handed the radio back to Parrish. "Why are you shirtless and covered in soot, Jordan?"
"I took the hellhound back to Eichen House, sir."
Pausing and frowning, the Sheriff eventually sighed. "I'm assuming you didn't take a car?" When he received a nod of confirmation, the Sheriff shook his head. "I don't want to know any more than that."
"Yes, sir. I might head home now; it's been a long day," Parrish said, the Sheriff giving him his leave with a nod of acknowledgement. Parrish offered to drop a few people off at the hotel along the way, Mohammed, Li and Marcie accepting the offer gratefully.
"Sorry, sir, but the cameras were all switched off. We had no way of knowing whether the Calaveras were accessing them remotely as well, so Mia and I didn't want to risk it," Teresa said to Rafe as they left the hospital building.
"McCall; everything all right?" the Sheriff called, nodding to Teresa to give her an escape. He didn't miss the look of relief on her face as she hurried over to Mia and the cruiser that was arriving to pick them up. He also didn't miss Rafe's expression of anger and annoyance; in fact, the Sheriff was pretty sure it could be seen from space.
"Fine," Rafe snapped.
The Sheriff put a hand on the FBI agent's shoulder. "How about the truth, Rafe?" he murmured, leading him away from the curious recruits.
Rafe shrugged his hand off when they were around a corner and out of sight. Then he sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, his mask cracking and pure exhaustion shining through. "Sorry, Sheriff. I'm just... tired."
"I can see that. I can also see that's not the only thing bothering you. I heard you were locked in one of the fridge's in the morgue?" he prompted.
Rafe gave a small laugh, somewhere between disbelief and incredulous. "I thought... I let them take me. I thought if I could get something on them, something concrete this time, that I'd finally have them and that justice would be served. I... Now they're dead and I... I'm pissed off. Fuck," he said without any real feeling behind the word.
The Sheriff took a long time to think and consider his words before he replied. "Over the years, I've found that justice isn't always what we want - or think - it will be. Sometimes justice means they're six-feet under rather than wasting away in a six-by-eight-foot cell. Our kind of justice isn't always the best option to save people," the Sheriff admitted.
Rafe looked at the Sheriff, his eyes searching and only seeing truth. He looked away and sighed, running a hand through his hair. He stopped mid-stroke, his eyes widening as he straightened up, realising that he'd forgotten something - someone - important. "Scott. Is he - "
"He's fine, Rafe. He's already headed home with Melissa, in fact. He's hoping you'll drop by before leaving tomorrow to wish him luck at UC Davis," the Sheriff added.
Rafe slumped back against the wall. "Sorry, I should've checked on him first. I... I just got so caught up in trying to find the truth that I forgot everything else."
"The truth isn't worth everything else," the Sheriff muttered, unknowingly echoing Tomika's earlier words.
Sighing, Rafe nodded. "So I've been told. I'm only just starting to believe it myself."
Another police cruiser arrived, and the Sheriff clasped Rafe's shoulder. "Come on, McCall. Go to your hotel, sleep tonight off, and go see your son in the morning."
"All right. Thanks, Sheriff."
"No problem, Agent," the Sheriff replied with a grin.
...
Isaac made it to the Nemeton a full five seconds before Malia did. He'd planned on leaning against a tree, acting smug, the whole nine yards, but then Isaac saw what was happening inside the clearing and all he could do was stand there gaping.
"What's going on?" Malia asked warily as she approached, seeing the lights flashing across Isaac's face, shadows playing on his cheekbones.
"Stiles is in there."
"He can't be. He was practically asleep a minute ago, and Derek's not as fast as you or me," Malia said, frowning.
Yet when she looked into the clearing, Malia could see that Stiles was standing before Deaton, working several balls of magic in and out and around the Druid with effortless precision. Sara was on the ground, Kuhle beside her, and Sean was just shifting back to his human form.
Malia frowned, moving forward. Isaac reached out to stop her but she avoided his grasp and stepped into the clearing silently. Making a wide arc around Stiles, Malia sniffed, her head tilted to the side. She looked from Stiles to the Nemeton and back again, her frown deepening. "It's the Nemeton."
Her words surprised Isaac and he looked between Stiles, Malia, and the Nemeton. "What?"
"It's not Stiles. It's using his face or his body, or a copy of him, maybe? It's the Nemeton, not Stiles," she repeated, her words certain and firm.
Isaac stepped into the clearing quietly and stared at the scene before him. He sniffed a few times, coming to the same conclusion as Malia had, though he still had no idea how.
Sean must have heard or noticed them because he waved them over a moment later, though he never took his eyes off Stiles.
"What's going on?" Isaac asked.
"Sara collapsed a few minutes ago; she's used too much power tonight and this spell was depleting it even faster," Sean said. "The thing that looks like Stiles came out of the Nemeton and seems to be continuing Sara's spell. We've got no idea what the spell is," he added before they could ask.
"How long has not-Stiles been going?" Malia asked.
"About ten minutes so far. Sara did twenty minutes."
"Good, it should be finished soon then; Stiles said that most spells don't take more than an hour, otherwise the people doing them get too tired," Malia added.
"You came at a good time; Deaton's voice just gave up. He's been screaming for a while."
Isaac rubbed at his throat, frowning. Before he could say anything, the various balls of light flew directly into Deaton's body, all of them disappearing completely this time. Deaton arched off the tree trunk, bright and almost-blinding light pouring from his eyes and mouth. The light disappeared a second later and Deaton collapsed against the tree, unconscious for the moment.
Other Stiles let out a whooping laugh, breaking the silence, and turned around in some weird dance that would have been better with branches and leaves rather than limbs and fingers. He stopped abruptly when he saw the small audience. "It's been one hell of a night, huh?"
"You can say that again," Isaac muttered.
"Who are you, what are you, and what did you do to the Druid?" Sean asked, trying to sound firm and authoritative.
"The Nemeton, the Nemeton, and I finished off Sara's spell," Other Stiles said, ticking off his fingers, then smirked at them. "Next question?"
Other Stiles was met with a round of confused stares.
"Oh, come on, work with me here! This is the first conversation I've had outside of a teenager's head in years; you can't blame a guy for wanting it to last, right?"
"If you really are the Nemeton, then how are you outside of the Nemeton?" Kuhle asked; he'd only just come to terms with the whole 'the tree is more than a tree' concept.
Other Stiles grinned, winked, and splayed his arms in a very Stiles-esque fashion. "Belief, baby." He snickered when everyone looked at him blankly. "Stiles was in me for a while and we had a heart-to-heart about fixing me up, and ergo, fixing the town up. Stiles took it a step further and believed as hard as he possibly could that nothing and no one would be able to fuck with Beacon Hills again.
"Deaton was eventually going to fuck with Beacon Hills again, so... voila! My physical manifestation and a bit of magic, and now we're back to plain ol' boring Beacon Hills," Stiles said with a flourish.
Isaac blinked and couldn't think of anything other than: okay then. He'd learnt over the years that sometimes it was just easier to accept the weird shit that was happening rather than try to fight it with something as simple as logic.
"Plain and boring aren't quite what I expected of the Nemeton of Beacon Hills," Sean said, careful with his words.
Other Stiles snorted. "Dude, you think you're old now? Just wait until you're as old as I am; you'll be desperate for plain and boring. Which also translate to: peace and quiet. Trust me, it's more difficult to get when you're in a forest made up of every child, grandchild, great-grandchild, etc. that you've ever fathered. Noisy brats," he muttered, shaking a fist at a nearby tree.
The tree swayed in a non-existent breeze, several leaves floating out to smack Other Stiles in the face. Malia snorted and tried not to look too amused when Other Stiles glared at her.
"All right, now get the fuck out of here. I want to sleep for the first time in forever without feeling like I've lost a limb," Other Stiles muttered, patting the Nemeton's - his own? - trunk fondly. "Oh, and tell Stiles to visit once in a while, would you?"
Kuhle picked Sara up carefully and Sean ushered everyone out of the clearing. They were still somewhat confused, but weren't willing to risk the Nemeton's wrath by staying and asking more questions.
...
The airport was full the next morning and it was an odd sight for most of the employees, who were used to a few business people and some weary holidayers leaving on a Monday morning (often people who had been forced to stop at Beacon Hills due to bad weather at the LA airport, and therefore grumpy and wanting to leave yesterday). Twenty-odd people, ten of whom were covered in an assortment of scratches, bandages, and bruises, and the other ten seemingly fine if not for the rips and tears on their clothes (and were those blood stains?). The conversations they overheard only caused further confusion.
"So what did you actually do with those lights last night?" Kuhle asked, refreshed and alert after his sleep, but no less confused.
Sara, who was not a morning person, took a long and savoured drink of her coffee before answering. "The lights removed his magical spark; they're designed to take a little bit of power each time they enter the body, dispersing it back into the world once they're outside of the body again. It's a delicate spell and has to be done carefully, otherwise it can... well, kill a person isn't quite right, but at the same time, it is? Either way, removing too much power at once isn't a good thing for either person involved: it drains both people too quickly, and can be just as harmful to the caster as the person the spell's been cast on."
Kuhle nodded slowly, a few things cleared up but leaving a hundred questions in their place. Sara hid a grin behind her coffee cup, figuring that she'd let him ask his questions over time. She almost spat out her coffee when she saw Li leave the women's bathroom, their features changing a mere second before they entered the men's bathroom instead. Seeing the line snaking out of the women's bathroom, Sara understood and wished for that ability for herself.
"What the hell do you mean it was Gerard?!"
A few people looked over at Stiles, who was staring at Tomika in shock.
"I was surprised too," Tomika said, shrugging.
"I'm not surprised - I'd narrowed it down to either him or Kate - but when the hell did you find this out?!" Stiles hissed, his voice a little quieter now.
"Uh, during the long-winded evil monologuing thing he did... while you were in the Nemeton, right."
Stiles looked between Tomika and Lydia, his eyes narrowing. "Is this because I called you Tom?"
Tomika smiled an unpleasant smile and clasped Stiles on the shoulder. "You bet your ass it is, Stilinski."
"FYI, next time I'll take the sparring match."
Lydia rolled her eyes. "Of course. Now, remember to text me when you land, and I'll be going to MIT at the end of the week, so I'll expect a text before I leave to wish me luck."
"I've had that in my calendar for weeks, Lyds... You weren't talking to me, were you?" Stiles asked.
Tomika smirked at Stiles. "No, she wasn't. I'll text you, don't worry about that. We've still got a Skype date Saturday?"
"Of course. Stiles, I'll Skype you beforehand at 7pm to show you my dorm."
"Great. I'm going over there - " Stiles said, gesturing over his shoulder in a vague, as far away from Tomika and Lydia direction as he could go. " - before you start on the plans for world domination, or worse, the suit I'll be wearing to your wedding."
Both Tomika and Lydia looked at him with, frowning slightly. Despite looking nothing alike, their expression could've been held up in the mirror.
"That's ridiculous, Stilinski," Tomika said, shaking her head.
"It's going to be charcoal," Lydia added, as if it was obvious to everyone but Stiles. Beside her, Tomika nodded in agreement.
"Creepy. Totally and utterly creepy," Stiles said, pointing at both of them and not-quite running away.
"Stiles, can I have a moment of your time?" Sean asked as he passed by.
Swerving abruptly to go back to his instructor, Stiles figured this was far enough from the creepy, creepy banshees for now. "Yes, sir?"
"The Nemeton's version of you... you have heard about what happened last night?" Sean asked before he went any further.
"Sara fell unconscious, Other Stiles came out of the Nemeton, used the Nemeton's magic and now Deaton's magic's gone. I think Parrish went and picked Deaton up this morning?" Stiles added, vaguely aware of his father discussing something on the phone far too early that morning.
Sean nodded. "The Nemeton mentioned you believed that, quote-unquote, 'nothing and no one would be able to fuck with Beacon Hills again'. Which somehow resulted in the Nemeton manifesting in a quasi-physical form to finish Sara's spell."
"Right?" Stiles said, the word drawn out as he tried to understand exactly what Sean was asking.
"Will the Nemeton be going around town fighting off anyone it thinks might be a threat?" Sean clarified.
"Oh! No, it doesn't have that range. I mean, it could probably scare off a few people in the forest if they tried logging it or something, but it can't hurt people in general. I'm pretty sure it can't, at least," Stiles mused, wondering if there was some way he could check that without being in the state.
"They won't be able to log the forest?" Sean asked, his voice taking on an odd quality that Stiles had never heard before.
Focusing on his instructor once more, Stiles noticed that Sean was holding a hand to his stomach, as though reliving a painful memory. "Well, they'll probably try, but things will definitely go wrong, even without the public outcry," he said with a grin.
"All right, that's good to hear. Thank you," Sean said with a nod. "Oh, and the Nemeton said that you should visit it every now and then. You have yearly holidays, so I suggest you stop by Beacon Hills on your way to wherever else you might want to go."
"Uh, of course, sir. I'd have to visit my Pops anyway," Stiles said with a half-hearted shrug; seeing an old tree once a year probably wouldn't take too much time out of whatever holiday he ended up having.
Stiles was pulled away a second later, Erica glaring at him. "If you don't catch me up on everything I've missed out on, I will hunt you down, Batman."
"I'll miss you too, Catwoman," Stiles said, grinning at Erica. "Did you get everything sorted with Ethan?"
"You mean did I beat him to a bloody pulp and leave him in Rosa's dumpster?"
"A bit more specific than I meant, but yeah."
Erica sighed. "I figured he'd had enough with almost losing Isaac and Jackson in the same night, so I just knocked him out. He'll probably be conscious in time for their flight back to England."
"How kind of you," Stiles said with a smirk. "Hey, I wanted to ask: what's going on with you three?" he asked curiously, nodding to where Boyd and Allison were talking with Li and Grant. Marcie was probably there as well.
Erica looked from to Boyd and Allison and back to Stiles, arching her eyebrow. "Whatever we want."
Stiles figured it was none of his business anyway, and nodded. "Right. Sorry."
Shrugging, Erica changed the topic. "Chris has offered to homeschool us through our final year. Boyd's got some ideas about joining you in the FBI. He might convince me and Ally as well," she said, grinning.
A few metres away from Allison, Chris was standing with Peter, both of them talking with Sean. Peter had a firm clawed grip on Chris' arm to keep him human and stop him from lashing out in response to the myriad of scents that bombarded everyone, let alone new werewolves with heightened senses. Chris frowned at Sean, trying to focus on what he was saying rather than the conversations from the hundreds of people around them. He inhaled and compartmentalised his emotions, exhaling and concentrating once more. Beside him, Peter's grip lessened slightly on his arm as he realised that Chris would be all right. For now.
"... internal review of all employees; we'd prefer to have our people in the cartels, rather than the other way around," Sean said with a wry smile.
"If I can help, let me know. I'd prefer not to have anyone in my father's employment, whether or not he's alive," Chris said.
"For all passengers travelling to Arlington, Virginia on Flight A123, please proceed to Gate 19 for boarding."
"There you are, son," the Sheriff said with fond exasperation, Derek by his side. "I've been looking everywhere for you; I had to get Derek to sniff you out."
"You mean you can't see my colourful personality from afar?" Stiles asked with mock offence, grinning.
"Speaking of colourful," the Sheriff muttered, raising an eyebrow at Stiles' blue plaid shirt over a bright orange t-shirt.
Stiles just grinned and pulled him in for a hug. "I'll miss you, Pops. You'll eat properly, won't you? And text me so I know you're safe and nothing's happened. And keep me updated if something does happen. And - "
"Stiles, everything will be fine."
"You said that last time, too," Stiles muttered, a real hint of worry in his voice, though he tried his best to muffle it into his father's shoulder.
"I know, and I mean it now just as much as I did then. There are some things I can't control, but I'll do my best with the things I can."
"All right. Be good and try to let people teach you things, okay?" the Sheriff said, his words echoing the same ones Claudia had said laughingly to Stiles on his first day at kindergarten.
Stiles smiled and let go of his father, wiping his eyes surreptitiously. "It's going to be so weird going back to class after everything we've been through."
Another call went over the airport's PA system announcing the boarding of the Virginia flight.
"You two look after each other, understood?" the Sheriff said.
"Yes, sir," Derek said quickly.
The Sheriff smiled and held a hand out for Derek to shake. They shook hands like old friends, and Stiles decided then and there that he gave up on attempting to translate their handshakes.
"Has anyone seen Agent McCall?" Mia asked, frowning.
"Uh, no."
"He hasn't checked in yet and we're meant to be boarding," Mia said, looking around the crowd in case she'd missed him.
Rafe McCall's name was called over the PA system as a reminder to check in. As if on cue, Rafe ran into the airport.
"I'm here, sorry I'm late. I just checked in on my phone," Rafe explained, breathless as he showed a security guard his badge, putting his bag on the security conveyor belt.
"Where were you?" the Sheriff asked, seeing the curiosity practically pouring from the kids' faces, but realising that they weren't going to question a senior Agent about it.
"Talking with Scott before he left for UC Davis. I found a business card this time, and Scott promised to text when he arrived safe," Rafe added.
"Finally," Stiles said, rolling his eyes.
"Would all remaining passengers for Flight A123 to Virginia please proceed to Gate 19 to board?"
"We'd better go before they take off without us," Mia said, practically herding them to the gate without room for argument.
She allowed everyone one final goodbye before ushering them all through the gate. The airport employees gave her a nod of thanks.
Halfway down the gangway, Rafe's phone started ringing loudly. Mia almost glared at him for delaying them again. Rafe held up a hand in apology, taking his phone out of his pocket and continuing down towards the plane to placate her. "Hank?"
"Sir, you're not going to believe this. I've... I finally cracked the code. I mean, I think I have. There's still a few words that don't seem right, but I've got the important parts."
Rafe tried to concentrate on what Hank was saying - he was talking very fast, as though he'd consumed his body weight in caffeine in the past forty-eight hours and hadn't slept in even longer - and board the plane without receiving the full weight of Mia's glare. Vaguely, he wondered if Medusa was real.
"... there's a werewolf, and hunters. The hunters aren't good people though, not like the stories. The things they've done... they killed so many innocent people, sir," Hank ended with a small sob.
Ahead of him, Rafe saw Hale tense, Stiles looking around immediately to see what the threat was. His eyes flashed blue and he glared at Rafe, and he didn't have to wonder about Medusa because that glare could kill a man on the spot.
"Hank, how long have you been awake?" Rafe asked, sighing heavily.
"Uh. Well... what day is it?" Hank asked weakly.
"Go home, Hank. Sleep for as long as you need, and I'll see you Wednesday, okay?" Rafe had the distinct impression that Hank was nodding on the other end of the phone. "In fact, get someone in security to drive you home."
Hank must have nodded again. "Good night, sir."
Rafe ended the call as he reached the plane, handing over his ticket. Being a senior agent in the FBI did have a small perk: First Class. Sean was already seated, looking as though he was desperately trying not to hear the commotion from the Economy seats; it seemed as though Grant had accidentally sat on Marcie. Rafe turned his phone to flight mode and fiddled for a moment to store his bag in the overhead compartment.
"What are you planning on doing now, Rafe?" Sean asked, looking up at him curiously.
Glancing down the plane to where the recruits were sitting - Mia was glaring them all into submission - Rafe considered his options. "The death of the Calaveras and Argents is going to leave a vacuum in the cartel and hunter space. I'm thinking a special task force will be necessary," he said, glancing to Stiles before taking his seat beside Sean. "What about you?"
"I think I might retire," Sean replied, smiling serenely in the knowledge that he wouldn't have to deal with anyone - human, creature, or recruit - for as long as he wanted.
...
Stiles frowned, sitting up off his seat as much as he could so he could see into First Class. "What do you think they're talking about in there?" he asked Derek, settling back down onto his seat quickly when Mia glared at him.
"The food," Derek deadpanned.
"Very funny, Der," Stiles said, rolling his eyes.
Derek just grinned and held out his hand for Stiles to hold during takeoff. "Only for you."
Stiles smiled and kissed him, ignoring the gagging noises and wolf-whistles coming from his peers - no, his pack. Much better.
...
End of the twenty-ninth chapter.