There were few situations worse than being chained up by witches mad for power while they prepared a really unsanitary looking operation table for a sacrifice for a demon straight from Hell, Stiles mused as he tried to make himself more comfortable; something made even more difficult by the fact that he was chained to some column with handcuffs that prevented him from accessing his spark.

Getting those handcuffs on him and been a really nasty experience. It had felt as if an integral part of him had suddenly been cut out of his body, the pain nearly unbearable until it ebbed down to a dull headache in the back of his mind. Everything had suddenly looked so dull, as the colour had been sucked out of everything and a numbness had spread through his mind and body alike. Then the witches had hauled him and Derek into this abandoned factory building and started to prepare their rite.

They should just demolish all the factory buildings in Beacon Hills, Stiles thought sourly as he – again – changed his position, so that he could feel his legs again. It wasn´t as if anything had been produced there since the late 70ies. You could build nice suburban houses there, where evil witches and alpha packs couldn't hide and no showdowns could take place, because some noisy housewife named Karen would immediately tell Barbara, who was such a gossip that soon the whole neighbourhood would know.

"Stiles," Derek hissed form beside him, tearing him out of his thoughts. Which was probably for the best. He had missed one dose of Aderall already.

"Hey, Sourwolf," Stiles grinned. "Fancy seeing you here." Derek just rolled his eyes and it was such a Derek thing to do that Stiles momentarily forgot that they were currently held hostage by a group of crazy witches.

"We need to escape," Derek continued to whisper and now it was Stiles' turn to roll his eyes.

"No shit, Sherlock," he shot back. "I thought we´d stay here and wait for the obviously satanic ritual to take place." From the glare Derek shot him Stile could be glad that the Alpha was as immobilised as he was, because otherwise his head would surely have another meeting with the dashboard of Roscoe…or just the nearest wall.

"Do you reckon Scott and the others will come?" Stiles asked.

"No," Derek shook his head. "They concealed our smell and we don´t know when the others will notice that we´re missing. For now, we shouldn´t hope for their help."

"Be quiet!" one of the witches snapped at them. She may be a looker – with long, glossy, blonde hair and a great bikini-body – but her eyes held a maniac glint that just made you want to be as far away as possible from her. "Soon you´ll be sacrificed for the glory of our Master." The glint in her eyes magnified.

"Yeah, about that," Stiles began, because he was never able to just keep his mouth shut, "I don't feel like being bled dry for some wrinkly demon, so how about we take another day for your sacrifice, maybe never?"

"He dared to insult the Master!" another witch screamed. Witch One just backhanded him. The force of the hit let Stiles see black spots for a few seconds and he could taste the coppery flavour of blood on his tongue. He could hear Derek roar – a pretty awesome roar, if Stiles was to tell the truth, even more powerful than Scott´s (sorry, Buddy) – but the witches just laughed at him.

"Aw, the dog shows his teeth," Witch Three taunted. Then she turned to Witch One, who apparently was the leader of the Crazy Squad. "We´re ready, Muriel."

"Muriel?" Stiles laughed. "Who named you, you´re great-greatmother from three hundred years ago?" Another backhand and another roar from Derek followed. Stiles, meanwhile, understood the message and kept his mouth shut. No need to further antagonize Muriel and her loony squad mates.

"Who shall be the first?" Muriel asked not really, rather just a thought spoken out loud. She looked at Stiles, contemplating, before a grin overtook her whole face. Stiles didn't think that it meant something good for him.

"I think we should start with the Alpha," Muriel said. Stiles limbs grew cold. No, they couldn't.

"Do you really think that´s such a great idea?" he began to blabber while desperately wracking his brain for any plan how they could escape. "I mean, have you looked at him?" He nodded at Derek who just looked at him incredulously. "He constantly scowls, he sours the mood by just existing and those eyebrows?" Stiles wiggled his own. "They´re constantly judging you. Always. So you should totally not sacrifice him. Me, on the other side, you should totally sacrifice me. I mean, I´m a Spark still in development, I think your master would value that way more."

During his whole rambling Muriel´s maniac grin had just widened until it looked like it would split her face in half.

"No," she drawled. "I think we´ll start with the Alpha." A short nod of hers and her two companions lifted Derek up to his feet and dragged him towards the table, the stuff – probably some concoction with Wolfsbane – that his handcuffs were coated in making him nearly defenceless against the two petite women.

Stiles tried to stop them, not caring that the handcuffs were cutting into his flesh, not caring that he could feel his warm blood flowing over his fingers, dropping onto the ground.

"Don´t bleed out on the ground," Witch Two taunted. "We´ll need that blood soon enough." Then she threw back her head and let out a shrill laugh. Stiles attempts became more desperate the nearer the ritual drew. Furiously he tried to access his spark, but he couldn't reach the power that usually thrummed underneath his skin, eager to be used. Every time he thought he had grasped it, it trickled away from him, like he was trying to hold sand in his hands.

The witches had dragged Derek on the table, strapping him down with cords that seemed to sap every bit of strength out of him. Stiles could see how his skin would redden where they touched him. Another Wolfsbane concoction.

"Soon our Masters' reward will be ours," Muriel intoned. From the folds of her blouse she pulled a short dagger which blade was inscribed with runes that glowed in a sinister red. "Be ready, sisters." She grabbed the dagger with both hands, raised them above her head and was about to plunge it into Derek´s heart when something within Stiles snapped.

Hot rage washed over him. How dared those filthy abomination harm what was his! Derek was his friend, his Alpha…his love and he wouldn't have some tainted hellspawn taking him away from him. Stiles could feel the energy pulsating around him, in the air, in the ground, in every fibre around him. Without any conscious thought he tugged at him, drawing all the energy into his body. He could feel the handcuffs heaten up and with a loud clang they fell to the ground, still glowing orange from the heat.

Stiles stood up, the energy coursing through him. He felt invincible and he would show those witches what it meant crossing him. Said witches stood there with wide eyes and gaping mouths.

"What are you waiting for?" Muriel hissed. "Kill him!" That command seemed to tear the other two out of their stupor and soon spells in varying shades of colours were flying at him. Stiles didn't even bother with them. They were weak and he simply squashed them like they were nothing more than annoying insects.

Stiles looked at the two witches attacking him, gathered the energy underneath his fingertips and then…just let it free. Dual screams filled the air as every vein in their bodies began to glow and suddenly flames sprung forth from their eyes and mouths. Like puppets which threads had been cut the two witches sank to the ground.

"Don't think about it." Stiles turned around only to see Muriel who had the dagger pointed straight at Derek´s heart. "One move and I´ll take your dog with me." She grinned at him mirthlessly. "And where I´m going he won´t ever come back from."

"You think that you can prevail against me? ME!?" It wasn't Stiles speaking. It was more. The magic around him, his spark, his human rationality and his animalistic instincts all speaking as one. His voice was laced with so much power that Muriel´s hands began to shake until she couldn't hold the dagger anymore.

With a loud clang the dagger fell to the ground, the light in its runes diminishing until there was none left anymore. Muriel took her head between her hands as if trying to block out all the sounds around her, but to no avail. Blood began to trickle down her face, pouring from her eyes and mouth. She screamed; screamed until she chocked on her own blood. Her eyes rolled into her head and then – like her sisters – she fell to the ground; dead.

The energy within Stiles' body receded and fatigue settled in. With last-ditch effort he was able to make his way towards Derek and to loosen up the chains enough so that the Alpha could free himself.

Then darkness overtook him.

"Mike, dear, would you come out of your room?" Mike could hear the desperation in his mother´s voice but he held firm and didn't move an inch. He couldn't go out of his room and face his parents and grammy. He was dangerous and he couldn't risk to hurt them. Staying in his room for however long he needed to protect his family was well worth the sacrifice.

"You don't need to be afraid," his mother continued. No, he didn't need to be afraid, but his parents should. He was dangerous, after all. He made the light bulbs explode and the knives hover in the air when he was angry. Weird – dangerous – things happened around him and he couldn't let it harm his parents.

"Go away!" he hiccupped. "I´m dangerous!"

"Sweetie," his mother said in her soothing voice and Mike just wanted to throw himself in her arms and forget all his fears. But he couldn't. He mustn't be so selfish. "You aren't dangerous." Mike didn't answer.

"There´s someone here," his mother continued. "Someone who can help you." Mike looked up from the ground, to the still closed door. Hope surged through his body. Someone who could help him controlling whatever it was that made him so dangerous. "He and your dad went to school together and he offered to help us. Will you let him in? So that he can at least talk to you?" Carefully Mike stood up, his bones aching from sitting on the ground for so long, and he made his way to his door.

He opened it and looked up to the stranger that was standing on the other side, his mother hovering closely behind.

"Hello Mike," the stranger said. His skin was of darker brown colour and he didn't have any hair on his head. His whole face held something ethereal – ageless – smooth skin without wrinkles or laughing lines like they were slowly appearing on his parents´ faces. The stranger´s brown eyes looked at him with understanding and compassion and maybe that was the reason why Mike let him in.

"My name is Deaton," the stranger introduced himself.

"Mike," he returned the favour, even though Deaton probably already knew his name.

"Hello Mike," Deaton continued. "Your parents called me because you exhibited some signs of power." Mike nodded. "I´m here because I can help you control it at least until we found someone who can teach you more."

"Really?" Mike asked in awe.

"Really," Deaton confirmed. "I can´t do much and that only because you´re still young and developing, but I can at least prevent you from harming those around you." Before he could continue, though, Mike had already flung himself at the older man and hugged him.

"Thankyouthankyouthankyou," he was rambling while tears were running down his face. He was so happy that he didn't notice that his mother had come into the room until she was hugging him as well.

Now everything would be better.

"Hello Jessica." Jessica looked up from the book she was currently pursuing only to find Peter Hale standing in front of her with that creepy grin of his on his face. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Cut it, Peter," Jessica replied. "This is the law library, where else would I be?"

"Partying with our fellow students?" Peter drawled and Jessica rolled her eyes. Peter was well aware that she hated those stick-up-their-ass daddy-children with every fibre of her being. The only other she could tolerate was Peter and that only because he was the only one amongst them who could outmanoeuvre her. Jessica could appreciate cunning and ruthlessness in every form.

"Please, partying with Donovan?" Jessica snorted. "I´d rather set myself on fire."

"Oh my, such imagination," Peter replied gleefully.

Jessica frowned. She didn't really know what Peter wanted of her and that made her uncomfortable. Her whole life consisted of knowing the motives of the people around her and playing them in order to get what she wanted. Peter was an enigma and she hated those. He made her feel out of her depth.

He was constantly around her, always being the one who would partner up with her for projects because no other wanted to work with a black woman. He would sit with her in their breaks and go eating lunch with her. Don´t get her wrong, he made for an interesting and intellectually challenging conversation partner, but still…

Jessica shut her book, stood up and slowly stalked towards Peter; levelling the playing field. At this hour there was no one in the library, everyone else either partying or already home in bed.

"What do you want, Peter?" Jessica demanded to know, bringing her face closer to his. Peter, never one to be intimidated, followed suit.

"What do you think I want?" he whispered and a shudder ran down her spine. Did she just imagine it or had Peter´s eyes just glowed golden?

"I think you want something to play," Jessica replied huskily. "Something to chase. Something that challenges you." She could feel his breath ghosting over her face and never had Jessica felt so thrilled in her life than right now.

"Oh, how right you are," Peter said, grinning like a wolf. Then his lips here crashing on hers.

Jessica had often imagined how it was to be kissed by someone who wasn't afraid of taking what he wanted and right now she was firsthandly experiencing it. She returned the kiss with passion, giving not even one inch for Peter to dominate her. Two apex predators clawing at each other. She could feel the arousal coiling in her stomach, heat surging through her body and from Peter´s flushed face he didn't seemed to be unaffected either.

"In the library," he panted when they had to interrupt their kiss. "What a naughty, little girl you are."

"Maybe if I´m in the mood I´ll show you what else I can be," Jessica teased and led Peter further into the back of the library. This, she decided, was going to be fun as hell.

AN: Some may ask themselves why Deaton could help Mike when he said that only a mage could teach another mage. That´s because he didn´t really 'help' Mike, but rather he bound Mike´s power until they could find someone to teach him and he was only able to to that because Mike was still young then. I explain that now, because I don´t know if it will ever come up in the story.

What do you think of Peter/Jessica, though? I must say that I love them together. They complement each other really well.