AN: I´m tired, I just have a six-hours-long binge learning session behind me and I can hear colours, so I didn´t re-read the chapter before posting it. Hope you like it, nevertheless.
Btw, this is an early Birthday present for Maggie, to whom this whole story is dedicated to. It still isn´t the 24th, so still no congratulations (y´know, we Germans are like that), but this goes out to you!
The car ride had been Awkward. Awkward with a capital 'A', because Mike had been nearly able to grasp the tension hanging in the air with his bare hands. Harvey was sitting on the back seat behind Deaton – Donna behind Mike – with a gaze so intense as if he wanted to burn through Deaton´s head with the pure force of his will. Mike was glad that Harvey had not a single once of magic in his body, because he was pretty sure that he would have succeeded otherwise.
Deaton was just driving, staring serenely at the road stretched ahead of them. Mike would bet his firstborn that he was one hundred percent aware of the suffocating tension around them, but chose to ignore it in order to observe. Stupid old man and his sagely ways.
Donna was just sitting there, rasping her nails and smirking at Mike whenever she caught him staring at her through the rear mirror. Mike didn't even want to know what was going on in that head of hers. It was probably the best for his continued sanity.
"So, Mr Deaton…" It was Donna that broke the silence, leaving the sentence hanging in the air like she wanted to just see what would happen.
"Call me Alan," Deaton replied. "Mr Deaton makes me sound like an authority figure." Mike snorted. Harvey´s glare intensified.
"So, you know Mike since when?" Donna fished and Mike let out an exasperated sigh.
"You couldn't wait at least until I was out of ear-shot?" he said.
"Where would the fun be in that?" Donna replied innocently.
"I know Mike since he was five," Deaton replied, shifting the gear and taking the exit that would lead them to Beacon Hills. "And his parents even longer. And without Mike´s consent I won´t say more on the matter." His voice took a steely note at the end which Donna seemed to notice as for the rest of their drive she wouldn't ask any more questions.
"This is your hotel," Deaton said after he had parked the car in front of a quaint looking four-floor house that was painted in a light orange hue. A sign in front of it proclaimed it to be 'Beacon´s finest three stars hotel', something which probably wasn't that difficult to achieve seeing as it was one of the only two hotels in the whole county. Not many tourists strayed to the little town in northern California.
Harvey and Donna got out of the car, but Mike just kept sitting on his place.
"Mike?" Harvey spoke to him with a raised eyebrow and questioning tone. "How about you get out of that car?"
"I think it´d be better if I go with Deaton," Mike replied, his tone a little bit apologetic, even though there was nothing he had to be sorry for. "I should take a look at the problem he wants me to take care of."
"I see," Harvey replied with stony expression.
"When can we expect you back?" Donna interjected before Harvey could say anything else.
"Don´t know," Mike answered and shot a questioning look at Deaton.
"It shouldn't take longer than a few hours," the vet replied. "I´ll deliver Mike back safe and sound as soon as I´ll be able to."
"See that you do," Harvey glowered and slammed the door.
"'See that you do?'" Donna repeated incredulously as the car turned around the corner and vanished from their sight. "Can you get even more caveman?" She huffed and shuffled her suitcase behind her.
"I don´t know what you´re talking about," Harvey replied tensely. Donna just gave him an unimpressed look.
"Does it really come as such a big surprise to you that Mike had a life before you?" she asked. "That he has friends, that he knows people and has issues that doesn´t pertain you?" Harvey grinded his teeth because as always Donna guessed spot on.
"I don't like that he doesn't trust me," he replied. "Why won´t he tell us what he is here for?"
"Harvey," Donna started. "Even though you sometimes don´t seem to get it, Mike is a grown up man with a life outside of your office or the bullpen." She paused for a moment. "And isn´t it you who always tells him that he shouldn´t bother you with his private life?" She raised an eyebrow at him. "I thought you liked your life drama-free?" Harvey didn't reply.
"Now, enough of that chit-chat," Donna continued. "These shoes are murdering me. I need to freshen myself up before we go after that mysterious Peter Hale." And with that the lawyer and the secretary turned around and made their way towards the hotel.
Derek watched the group of teenagers standing around Deaton´s operation table, trying to be as blasé as possible, but failing big at it. It didn't matter if you face was composed or your hand´s steady and quiet when he could hear their hearts beating so fast as if they were about to burst. It didn't matter because he could smell the anxiety coming off them in waves. They were just teenagers, slave to their hormones, like he once had been.
No, he corrected himself, they weren't just teenagers. They were survivors. They were Pack. And maybe that was what raised his instincts to top levels as they waited for the man – the Mage – that Deaton said would help Stiles control his magic before it consumed him.
Derek didn't like Mages. He disliked magic in general. Too often he had seen what magic users where capable of. If you had the power to bend reality to your will, to snuff out lives with just a thought, you somehow lost the ability to appreciate those little things. Like the witches that had tried to kill him and Stiles both. Like Jennifer.
He was torn out of his thoughts by Stiles suddenly flailing around. He did that a lot, Derek thought. It was something so inherently Stiles that it made Derek want to smile at the younger boy´s antics. But he didn't. He didn't want anyone to get the wrong idea.
"Can´t you even stay still?" he said instead.
"Dude," Stiles replied, drawing out the 'u' like he was performing a song. "I´m about to meet a Mage. Who´s gonna teach me to make Pizza appear out of thin air."
"You think he´s gonna do that?" Scott wanted to know with that wide puppy-eyes of his.
"Of course, Bro," Stiles replied and slung an arm around the other boy´s shoulders. "Just imagine it: We, the Xbox and Pizza whenever and however we want it at our disposal, thanks to my awesome abilities." While Stiles described the hypothetical situation, Scott nodded along furiously with a wistful glance in his eyes. Derek just supressed the urge to facepalm. His Pack really consisted of children.
"I don´t think that your first priority should be summoning Pizza," Lydia chimed in from where she was sitting on one of Deaton´s cabinets, looking as immaculate as ever. "There are more important things to learn."
At least one person who had her priorities straight, Derek thought.
"You dare to question the sanctity of Pizza?" Stiles exclaimed, his expression distorted into a mask of horror. "How could you?" Lydia just huffed and looked down on her nails, obviously done with the boy´s antics. Allison, sitting next to the other girl, just smiled and Derek didn't even bother to hide his eye-roll when he saw the dopey expression on Scott´s face. He and the Argent girl where on civil terms now, but that didn't make him disavow from his opinion that her and Scott´s relationship was a doomed one. But he kept that to himself.
"Where are Erica, Boyd and Isaac, though?" Stiles asked.
"Not here," Derek replied blandly. The stupid answer was well worth it, consisting the irritated twitch of Stiles' eyebrows.
"Obviously," Derek added. Stiles wanted to reply something, but it was at this exact moment that Derek could hear the humming of Deaton´s car.
"They´re coming," he said and the tension was instantly back. Derek could hear the car´s door shutting and the crunching of the gravel beneath two people´s feet.
"You are aware that there are people waiting for you?" a voice spoke. It wasn´t Deaton, so it must be the Mage he had contacted. He sounded young, Derek thought. Young and inexperienced.
"I thought so," was Deaton´s reply. "That will be Mr Stilinski and his friends. Nearly inseparable, those teenagers." An affirmative humming was the only reply the vet got before Derek could hear the door opening.
The man that entered with Deaton had a boyish charm, Allison supposed as she watched the blonde taking in the room and the people within it. He didn't look particular threatening, but neither did Allison herself and she could shoot pretty much anything, so that didn't say much. She couldn't discern what the man was thinking, his face a blank mask. The only emotion that she could see was the flash of rage that shot through the man´s eye as his gaze locked on Scott and Derek.
"Werewolves?" he hissed at Deaton. "Are you serious?!"
"They do come as package deal," Deaton replied.
"Woah, woah," Stiles chimed in. "Do you have anything against my friends?" And that was the Stiles Allison knew and valued. The one that would let no one utter even a bad word against his friends and those that he considered under his protection; the Stiles that would see the world burn just so to save those he held dear.
The stranger´s gaze turned towards Stiles.
"Against your friends? Nothing," he replied, carefully placing emphasis on each word. "Against their species and what it represents? Well, that´s another story."
"Well, I´d like to say that it was nice to meet you, but I was raised not to lie," Stiles hissed venomously. "It´s never nice to meet a prejudiced asshole." The Mage didn't seem to react to Stiles word.
"I came here as favour to Deaton," he started, "nothing more and nothing less. If you don´t want my help, feel free to refuse it, but be aware that it will sign your own death warrant."
"You can´t be the only to teach him," Lydia interrupted. "There have to be more mages than you in the States." Allison could feel her ire rise as well. She still may not be completely comfortable around werewolves, but she couldn't just stand in face of such prejudice without doing something. She wouldn't let it stand that someone insulted her friends.
"There are other mages, of course," the Mage chuckled. "But they won´t teach your friend."
"Why?" It was Scott who asked the question, the only person not looking like he wouldn´t gladly tear the Mage a new one.
"Because of the acquaintance he keeps," the Mage replied.
"That´s enough!" Silence fell over the whole room as Deaton´s voice boomed over them. Allison had never heard the vet even raise his voice, so it must be a truly serious situation that he would do so now.
"Michael," the vet said and turned towards the Mage. "I know you have your reason for your dislike against werewolves, but there´s a young boy here who could well die if you don´t help him." The Mage hung his head in shame. "And you, Mr Stilinski," Deaton continued. "Michael is right; you don´t have the luxury to reject the help he is offering." You could have heard a single hair falling to the ground, so silent the room had grown after Deaton´s rant.
"I´ll expect him tomorrow morning right here," the Mage said after a while. "Without any of his friends." He nodded shortly at Deaton before he turned around and headed out of the building.
"What´s his problem?" Stiles spat as the doors closed behind the Mage.
"It isn´t my story to tell," Deaton replied, having regained his sagely composure. "But Michael does have his reason for how he feels about werewolves." The vet paused for a moment. "After all he suffered greatly because of some of its specimen."
AN 2: *badungdisch* so, why does Mike hate werewolves and why won´t other Mages help Stiles? What´s that great suffering Deaton´s talking about? Find out next!