Stiles was getting better at this whole mediating stuff. At least he liked to think that he did.

Of course, this was only the second time he actually tried to do it, but he thought that he could actually feel a difference to yesterday, where the deepest he had gotten into a trance-like state was when he had nearly fallen asleep. So, kudos to him for that! Of course, making a hyperactive spazz like him try to mediate was like trying to get Peter to stop being a total creep or to make Derek laugh – so, hopeless endeavours really – but when Stiles had tried to point that out to Mike, the other mage had just exhaled slowly and continued anyway.

"You're thinking too much again," Mike interrupted his thoughts. The blonde mage was sitting in front of him, legs crossed and eyes closed, looking absolutely zen and probably already tapping into all that ambient energy around them. Stiles didn't know how, but he could actually feel it when that happened. It was as if Mike had suddenly turned into a vacuum that sucked in all air around him, but not all of a sudden, but more in a gentle kinda breeze way. It made the hair on his neck stand up.

"I'm thinking too much because you've neutralised all the Adderall in my body and now my mind feels like it's tearing itself apart," Stiles grumbled.

"And I'm sorry for that," Mike replied, still not having opened his eyes and not sounding very sorry at all – at least in Stiles' opinion. "But as I told you, a mages' brain often works differently to a normal humans' which often expresses itself in ADHS, savage syndrome or other 'mental conditions', which aren't really conditions at all, but just brains working differently from what is considered normal. Medication makes it a hundred times more difficult for you to learn magic."

"So, you've got a photographic memory and I got ADHS," Stiles grumbled. "Feels like I got the short stick in that deal." Mike just hummed nonchalantly.

"Concentrate, Stiles," he just said. "Once you've got the hang out of it, you'll no longer need your medication." And didn't that sound awesome? So, Stiles tried again.

He closed his eyes and slowed down his breathing, concentrating on every breath – inhale and exhale, inhale and exhale. He could feel his heartrate slowing down, from his usual fast speed to a more relaxed pace. Scott had told him once that he could always recognise Stiles because of his stressed, rabbit-like heartbeat. Its fast pace was also the reason why the werewolves found it so difficult to assess whether he was lying or not: His heart rate barely changed when he did.

At least one advantage Stiles had over them. He would take whatever he could get his hands on.

He could feel himself becoming distracted again, so he double down on concentrating on his breathing. It was morning, so the air around him had a crisp quality to it; sharp and clean in a way that it could only be so early, when the sun had yet to reach her highest point on the horizon. He could hear the faint buzz of the insects that crawled and flew over the clearing, could feel the faint breeze that ghosted over his skin and smell the aroma of the plants around him that were still covered in dew.

Stiles was supposed to clear his mind and to try and connect with the nature around him, but it was more difficult than most fantasy novel made it appear. Find a connection to the nature around him – that sounded so diffuse, so nondescript. There was no explanation, no instruction, no guidelines. Just those few words he was supposed to make heads with.

"I can't really explain it to you, either," Mike had told him when Stiles had voiced his dissatisfaction. "It's like trying to explain love to another person. It's something different for everyone else and what might sound like a great explanation to you might be just nonsense to someone else. Everyone experiences it differently, so there aren't any leaflets I could hand to you." He had chuckled then. "The only thing that works for everyone is calmness and quiet. That's the only way I can assist you. The rest you have to do for yourself."

Stiles had to agree, though, that the quiet of the place really did help to calm his racing mind. Not by much, but he could feel a difference, a slight deceleration in the speed of his mind jumping to one subject to the other.

But Stiles wasn't as inexperienced as Mike thought him to be. He had already cast magic a few times, even though it had been under the assumption that he was a Spark, so he knew what it felt like. He was familiar with the feeling of raw energy pulsing underneath your fingertips, just waiting to be released; he had felt the high that came with wielding so much power.

So he chased that feeling, tried to find it again, and even though it eluded him again and again, Stiles could feel that he was getting closer. It was as if the nature around him wanted him to chase it, as if it wanted to see if Stiles was worthy.

When he finally did it, it felt like he had accomplished the grandest thing in his life. It was as if a veil had been lifted off him and he was only now truly experiencing the world around him. Everything felt so raw, so fresh, every sensation he experienced felt like he lived through it for the first time. When he opened his eyes, the colours seemed brighter, the outlines sharper and the textures more detailed than ever before.

"You did it," Mike said, smiling at him. "You connected yourself to the energy around you."

"What, like it was supposed to be difficult?" Stiles joked. Mike just raised an eyebrow at him, completely unimpressed by Stiles' genius.

You have taken your place in the currents, a familiar voice intoned in his mind. Stiles looked around and found Aurai floating a few meters away from them. This time the nymph had taken the form of hundreds of drops of dew floating in the air. I welcome you.

"Eh, thanks, I guess," Stiles replied awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. "Happy to be here." Aurai laughed and simply the sound of it managed to sooth away all of Stiles' worries like they had never been there.

Your story will be an interesting one, she said. I will watch avidly.

Well, that didn't sound ominous at all.

It was time for action.

The crowd in the hotel lobby parted for Donna as she purposefully walked through the space in her two-inch-heels and black and white mini-dress, making her feel like she could do anything and get away with it.

Her destination, though, was one of the few couches that were placed all over the room to give the guests opportunity to launch around, read newspapers and drink some coffee. On this particular couch, Harvey was sitting, bowed over the Wall Street Journal, which Donna knew he didn't really cared for.

"Harvey," she greeted him as she sat down opposite from him. The lawyer looked up from his reading material and eyed her with suspicion.

"What do you want?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Can't I just come over and greet my boss and friend?" Donna asked in mock-innocence.

"You could," Harvey replied. "But you never do."

"Harvey, when have I ever done something you don't agree with?" Harvey opened his mouth, probably to list all the times they had disagreed on something, but Donna didn't even let him start.

"Mike will be back in a few minutes and then I'm gonna grab the two of you and we'll go out and do something fun, just the three of us," she declared.

" I don't need to have fun," Harvey groused. "I need to find out what happened between Jessica and Peter Hale, so that we can finally leave this godforsaken town."

"You're just proving my point," Donna remarked. It hadn't escaped her notice that with each day that passed, Harvey had become more and more grumpy and prone to snap at anyone who dared to even address him. And while Donna believed that it was partly because of how unexpected everything here had turned out, she also thought that it was also because of Mike's continued absence without explanation. Harvey had gotten used to Mike always being at his side and even if he wasn't, Mike would always tell him why. This time he hadn't and that ate at Harvey.

But it wasn't as if Mike was completely unaffected either. While he didn't seem to be at odds with them being in Beacon Hills, Donna had noticed him staring at Harvey every now and then as if he wanted to talk to them or start one of their familiar bickering routines or exchange movie quotes that went well over her head, but didn't dare to because he noticed how moody Harvey had become over time.

So, Donna would not only cure her boredom, but also help her two friends.

"Look, Mike's here," she exclaimed, nodding towards the hotel's entrance where the familiar blonde was walking in. "Mike!" She waved at him. Upon seeing the two of the, a smile broke out on Mike's face and he immediately changed his course towards them.

"You're still here?" he asked once he had reached them. "I thought you two would be out and about by now."

"And you would be right, but we…I –" she corrected herself when Harvey cleared his throat "- decided that it's about time for a little workspace bonding. So, whatever you wanted to do right now, forget it, 'cause you're coming with us." Unlike Harvey, Mike didn't seem to be that put out by the prospect of spending some time together.

"What's your plan?" he asked. Donna grinned at him.

"Well," she drawled. "There's a minigolf course not that far from here."

"No," Harvey stated resolutely.

"But Harvey!" Donna whined.

"I won't play minigolf. It's not even real golf, just a rip-off for people to poor to play the real sport," Harvey sneered. "Even toddlers can play minigolf."

"You're just afraid that you're gonna lose," Mike taunted. "I'm an absolute pro at minigolf. Granny and I played it all the time." Donna knew what Mike was trying to do and she absolutely approved. But unfortunately, so did Harvey.

"You're reverse psychology bullshit won't work on me," he replied, grinning at Mike like a shark. "And neither will your address at my competitive streak, because I'm secure enough in my masculinity that the prospect of a seventy-years-old grandmother being better than me at something as frivolous as minigolf won't make me attempt to prove you wrong." He finished and looked at them smugly.

"Or," Mike retorted, "it could be just about fun, y'know? So, free yourself of your portentousness and just come with us."

"I know for a fact that Louis is quite prolific at minigolf," Donna added, winking at Mike conspiratorially. "Quite a few of his clients play it." She could practically hear Harvey grinding his jaw while the vein at his temple throbbed as the knowledge that he was being played fought against his instinct to never let Louis be better at something than him. But Donna knew already how that fight would play out.

"Alright," Harvey gritted out. "I'll be humouring you."

"Awesome," Mike exclaimed and held his fist up to Harvey for a fist-bump. A few awkward seconds passed before Harvey finally reciprocated the gesture, albeit with a pained expression on his face.

"Not a single word to anyone, understood?" he hissed at them.

"Of course," both of them replied in unison. Harvey didn't need to know that Donna was so gonna film him with her smartphone and send the clip to Rachel and Jessica. "Whatever you say."