Almost immediately Stiles lets free a few small light spheres, his spark sighing softly in his chest with the pleasure of being used.
He sets the brightness to a dim glow and puts a finger to his lips in a shushing gesture as he meets each pack member's gaze.
His eyes flit over Kira slowly drawing her katana, kitsune eyes glowing brightly in the darkness. Allison has moved to a standing position, compound bow at the ready. All the wolves in the room are stiff and alert, eyes glowing blue, gold and red.
Stiles gestures for Ethan to take Danny and Lydia into the basement. They'd done enough drills in the past few years to know exactly what to do. Lock the basement door, arm the stairway, arm the basement, and then descend further down into the state-of-the-art panic room Derek had modelled especially for (and against) the supernatural. They would be safe down there.
He watches as Scott gestures quietly to Derek from across the room. Hear anything?
Derek's poised and alert next to one of the windows as he answers Scott's question with a slight shake of his head. Nothing.
Slowly, Stiles steps forward, headed towards the front door.
Scott slaps a hand on him, grips his forearm tight and shakes his head adamantly, eyes like rubies.
Stiles pauses and murmurs softly, knowing that Scott doesn't need to strain to hear what he's saying.
"Phoenix force Jean Grey, remember?"
The scarlet bleeds from Scott's eyes until all that's left is the soft brown of his irises. There's a tortured worry in his gaze and Stiles knows that part of that torture is because his best friend can't offer to go with him. Alice—or, actually, Not-Alice—is after the true alpha, and Scott knows better than to give her even the slightest access to that.
Before he can move away from Scott's tight grip, a voice echoes in his head. You think you can protect them from me?
The wolves, Kira and Allison all cringe with a sound Stiles doesn't seem to hear. Scott has snatched his hand back from Stiles' arm in favour of covering his ears, even though the motion is useless.
With a bravado he doesn't feel, Stiles follows his instincts and responds out loud. Tries to appeal to the girl he thought was his friend.
"Alice, listen to me. I know you can hear me. You can fight it, I know you can."
Alice isn't here anymore, Magician.
"Who are you?" Stiles asks while slowly moving around the room, touching each member of the pack with his spark and silencing the noise ringing in their heads. First, Scott, who cautiously lowers his hands from his ears. Then Kira, Isaac, Allison.
You dare to demand my name? The voice rings with what he thinks is a feminine undertone.
"I only wish to recognize of whom this incredible power is stemming from," Stiles replies, adding some formality to his speech. Flattery got people everywhere.
He almost sees the demon preen proudly. Circeris, demon goddess, chaser of the elixir of life.
Stiles pauses in front of Derek and unlike the platonic touch he had given to the others, he lifts his hand and slowly traces a finger down the side of the older man's face, stubble scratching his fingers.
-x-
The high pitched ringing noise trying to rip Derek's brain in two slowly subsides. Stiles' eyes are flitting with glitter gold as Derek holds his gaze. He takes his hands away from his ears and straightens slowly.
"You can't have them," Stiles replies to the air. There a far away look in his gaze even as he continues to stare at Derek. "These wolves are protected."
There's a heartbeat of silence when Derek knows a reply is being said, and it frustrates him that not even his wolf-ears can pick it up.
Stiles takes his hand away from Derek's face, listening.
-x-
You underestimate me, Magician, if you think I need permission to take what I want.
The voice is cold and angry and Stiles doesn't get a chance to respond before several whirlwinds crash through the doors and windows. Scott screams his name at the same time that Kira yells for Scott, Allison calls for Isaac and Stiles tries to grab for Derek. The whirlwinds envelope each wolf in the living room, whisks around them violently until they disappear from sight.
Kira and Allison stand dumbfounded and Stiles finds himself engulfed by a sudden force of anger.
"Fuck!" He explodes in frustration.
"What do we do?" Allison exclaims at the same time. And if the girls were startled by his angry outburst, they did well in hiding it.
Stiles doesn't bother to explain as he swiftly draws a tracker sigil into the air. The residual trail of magical energy is illuminated to him almost immediately and he latches his spark onto it with the strongest grip he has before motioning to Allison to grab his hand.
"Quick," he instructs, motioning towards Kira as well. Kira steps forward and takes Allison's outstretched hand, katana gripped tight with the other.
"Stiles, what—"
Stiles silences the query with one look, checks to make sure they have their weapons – are ready for a fight.
"Hold on tight."
-x-
Scott's just about to swipe a claw through a possessed coven member's already shredded torso when there's a startled squeal to his far left followed by a flurry of dust and dirt.
He looks on in surprise as he lays eyes on Allison dusting herself off in stunned silence, Kira sitting up from where she'd landed on a patch of grass, and Stiles doubled over and breathing hard, with one knee and one arm bracing himself against the ground.
"Dude!" he exclaims anxiously. He hasn't quite gotten used to seeing Stiles popping in and out of thin air, let alone Allison and Kira!
"Sorry, sorry!" Stiles apologises breathlessly as he rises to his feet. "I've never done that before—holy shit, oh my god," he stammers with incredulously. "I'm sorry, that landing totally needs work—holy shit! I can't believe it worked, I can't—are you guys okay?"
-x-
He whirls around at Allison and Kira, takes in their slow nods of affirmation before Scott grabs him by the arms and shakes him a little.
It takes one glance to figure out that Not-Alice had transported Scott and the others back to the clearing of the other night. It takes another glance to figure out that Scott was on his own.
"Where are the others?" Stiles asks quickly.
"I don't know," Scott replies. "I came to and I was on my own with just one of them watching me. I don't know where the others are."
Stiles feels a wildness inside him that he can't explain. Takes a deep, calming breath and tries to think of Circeris' strategy.
"Okay. Okay, she wants you separated away from the others. She wants the betas away from you so they can't protect you. She's—"
"—Heads up!" Allison shouts as she draws an arrow and fires it into the distance.
"It's Isaac, he's hurt. He's got two on his tail and he's heading straight for us," Scott informs quickly.
"We have to find the others, we're stronger together," Stiles says urgently.
A wolf's strangled cry rents through the air just as he says this and Scott gasps with a phantom pain, alpha instincts setting his eyes ablaze and transforming his face. He lets out his own feral howl before setting off in the direction of the pained cry.
"Scott, wait!" Stiles yells after him, moves to follow him before realising that his best friend is already out of sight.
There's another pained howl from the same direction, deep in the trees, and when it slowly fades away, a banshee's grief-stricken scream tears through the woods right after it.
"No," Kira mumbles, eyes wide and katana gripped tight.
"Fuck," Stiles breathes in shock. Someone is dead, one of the pack is—Derek might be—
"Guys!" Isaac calls to them, footsteps stumbling but fast. Stiles sees the blood all over the pup's abdomen, can't figure out whether it's someone else's or Isaac's.
Allison draws her bow, lets another arrow fly and gets a witch in the shoulder as she begins to move backwards towards the tree line.
They move slowly and surely, passing the tree line with Kira running to help Isaac and Allison covering them both as Stiles leads the way, senses open and alert.
-x-
The beta's howl followed by Lydia's scream makes Derek falter in his movements. One of the three possessed witches surrounding him manages to strike him in the ribs and another kicks at his legs making him stumble. He struggles to ignore the grief building in his chest. He may not be an alpha anymore but he will always remember what it feels like to lose a beta. What it feels like to lose a pack member—to lose family.
He swings an arm out, claws fully extended, teeth elongated and snarl ripping through his vocal chords. Unlike some people, anger never paralysed him and he relishes the renewed adrenalin that floods through his system. Strengthens him enough to reach out and punch his fist straight into the chest poised in front of him. Looks into the eyes of the witch whose heart he now holds in his hands. Doesn't blink or show remorse as he squeezes tight and pulls it out of the man's chest.
That's for whoever of my pack your people just killed, he thinks silently.
He whirls on the other two, ready for another battle, but he's surprised to see them freeze in their movements. Their eyes glaze over as they look towards the direction of the clearing and with swift puppet like movements they start moving blindly towards it as if they were being summoned.
Derek doesn't hesitate in following them.
-x-
I misjudged you, Magician. Sigil jumping is a great skill harnessed only by the very well-trained.
Stiles spins around trying to see through the trees. Kira gives up on trying to hold Isaac up and sinks to the ground with him. Allison keeps her compound bow trained towards the shadows, the two witches hunting Isaac long disposed of.
"Why are you hiding, Circeris?" he calls into the darkness of the forest. "Surely, a demon goddess such as yourself can hold her own against one, lowly magician," he taunts lightly, anger and frustration making his jaw clench.
There's movement to his right and Stiles watches in terror as five possessed witches, faces distorted beyond recognition, emerge from the trees, Scott bound and swaying between them. There's a knife floating at his throat and his eyes are flickering red and brown over and over again, like he can't control his wolf.
"Jesus," Stiles exclaims in a low voice, panic closing his throat. He takes a step forward, instinct making him want to help Scott somehow.
NO. You are to refrain from touching the true alpha, the voice orders.
His best friend's sneakered toes are grazing the grass below him and it's obvious that he's not using his feet to move along with the five witches surrounding him. Stiles makes sure to stand motionless. Makes sure to keep Kira, Isaac and Allison behind him. He feels his hands shake with the fury of his spark. Feels it in the way his head spins and his vision sharpens.
Circeris releases a quiet sigh. I grow weary of this game, she drawls.
"Alice," he calls, once again trying to appeal to the young witch he once knew. How long had she been harbouring Circeris inside her? How much does the demon goddess know about him and his spark. She was still well hidden within the forest but he knew she had no trouble hearing him. Could he still save her? Save them all?
"Alice, if you're still in there, I—we really need your help right now."
He moves closer to the centre of the open space, closer to Scott and the group of witches and further away from Kira, Allison and Isaac.
"Alice, please. You made a really bad mistake, but Malia and I, we can help you. Just fight her, you hear me? You think she's planning to take you under her wing after this? You don't think her essence will burn through your vessel in a second as soon as she lets it?! She's bad for you, remember what we've learned!" he yells into the darkness.
"Enough!"
The word echoes both inside his head and within the clearing. Not-Alice emerges from the trees, dressed in something so unlike the Alice he had been friends with. Her dark hair is stringy and thin, her eyes sunken and her complexion sallow. Stiles swallows his helplessness.
I can't save her.
But despite how weak the body looked, Stiles could feel the energy and power resting inside her. Could feel the tendrils of her magic wrapped around each person in the clearing who wasn't part of his pack.
He forces himself to hold his ground as she approaches him, eyes black and soulless, air pungent with the stench of decay.
"Stiles."
He cringes at the sound of his name leaving her tongue. She looks at him in consideration, studying him curiously. He feels the tendrils of her magic invade him and he can't help it this time, he stumbles a step back, unnerved at the feeling of someone else – not Malia – inside his consciousness.
"Hmm, this is a surprise," she drawls, attention momentarily diverted from Scott. Stiles watches the greed transform her face into a sweet smile. "You've yet to choose, don't you? All that power still unaccounted for. You're a Spark. I like you."
He responds with the false bravado he's always had, voice strong and steady. "Then let the alpha go."
She hums in amusement, looks past him for a second before meeting his eyes again.
"I don't think so," she sing songs. "I'll have you both instead."
"Stiles!" Allison yells from behind him as he hears the release of an arrow beyond him. Stiles turns just in time to see three, no two, possessed witches swiftly emerge from the trees and charge towards him. Allison's arrow meets its mark with the third.
Four out of the five surrounding Scott converge over his best friend, hiding him from Stiles' line of sight. Not-Alice screams in frustration, summons enough energy to make the hairs on his arms stand up and heaves it at Allison, Isaac and Kira who are thrown off balance and tumble like bowling pins.
Stiles clenches his teeth in anger, calls forth his spark with the force of his will and holds both arms out on either side of him, freezing both of the witches charging him with a strong, invisible force.
"No!" He hears Kira scream as the fifth witch that had been guarding Scott appears in front of her. Her katana clashes loudly with the sword that materialises in the witch's hands. Isaac is unconscious behind her and Allison is still picking herself up off the ground.
Stiles turns his attention back to the two he held with his will and draws more power to him.
Without hands to draw a sigil, he glares both witches to submission and snarls quietly through clenched teeth, "Somnus."
Sleep.
Both witches drop like rag dolls, and Stiles rolls his shoulders and stretches his neck, feeling the familiar warmth of magic flood through him like a tidal wave.
The feeling of wrath that is growing inside him is new. It feels both monstrous and terribly powerful and he can't quite gather his thoughts to focus on something good, and Stiles doesn't have the will to fight it right now. Doesn't have the time.
As he continues to let the power rush through him, he can't help but nestle a little into the welcoming energy engulfing him. Lets it flood his veins and wash away his fear.
He inhales a deep steadying breath, tracking all movement around him, all the time unaware of the way his eyes are switching.
Switching.
Back and forth, and back and forth.
From warm hazel ringed with gold…
…to a solid, endless, black.