The night had come. The warehouse was filling with people all writhing and moving with the heavy base. Diana could feel it thump, thump, thumping in her chest, each beat pulling her further in.

Fair warning, I may need you to pull me out of this when I get going. Bacchanals are notoriously tricky, I really don't want to let this go too far.

How far is too far?

Orgy? Depraved madness? Slaughter?

Okay, yeah that is too far. Sure, I'll help pull you back.

Thank you.

Diana breathed deeply letting her body become fluid with the movement of the crowd, the tether of Lydia pulling her through the mass of bodies.

She felt the heat of the moment, the rhythmic movement and let her power flow. Like letting out a too deep breath it flowed out of her like a gas cloud spreading through the movement of the dancefloor.

To cast a bacchanal the castor had to be part of it, to feel all of it, to be cast into the madness herself. It was dangerous; some Witches had never come back from the edge they danced on, choosing instead to fly right over.

The dancing became more intense; the music seemed to grow louder, the beat heavier. Diana could feel the tension fade out of everyone in the building, it was building. She gave herself over to the movement more and felt it intensify, the grip she had on everyone's mind became stronger as hers on her own became weaker.

Every movement began to sync with her own heartbeat.

Ba-bum, ba-bum, ba-bum.

Her chest rose and fell with the beat, her hips swayed and her arms caressed her faceless dance partner. How many had danced with her, touched her she didn't know. She had lost track, she was losing track of where she was, how long she had been here. Soon she was sure she would lose herself entirely to the mass of beats, hands and bodies.

A hand closed around her right forearm pulling it from the shoulder of a faceless man. They were cast apart from her spell. She could feel him as he held her, taking hold of her other forearm. He felt safe, solid. He shook her lightly as he shouted at her.

Diana tried to focus on him, his pretty eyes. But all she could feel was the music, the flow of her power seemed to ebb around him before her like an island in a stream. She found that odd even in her addled state. He was not succumbing. Why?

She frowned, the action pulling at her. She could see his face clearer now, she did recognise it. His name escaped her but it was important. She knew that much, this man before her was important to her, deeply.

"Diana!" He shouted shaking her again.

There was a pressure in her head, like someone was pushing to get in.

"… gotta get you out of here." He said pulling her from the crowd. They buffeted against him as he pushed through his grip on her tight and firm. But it never hurt her. She pondered the lack of pain; it almost felt like this man would never hurt her. Never leave her.

The music began to fade and clarity began to push at the edge of her consciousness.

"Stiles." She murmured looking intently at the back of his head. That was his name, Stiles.

She felt nauseous and unsteady. But still he pulled her further away until fresh air his her face.

The light was different here, sharper, it made her stomach turn. Yet she was not sick, Stiles was still pulling her away down a set of steps towards his jeep. Then his hand left her.

Diana couldn't stop it; it felt firstly like a weakness, a dizziness washing through her. Then she vomited near her shoes.

"That's it, let it out. There you go." Stiles soothed gathering up her long hair into one hand.

She retched again and again until nothing else came and she felt drained.

"How…" She tried to ask.

"How long?" Stiles finished for her. "About three hours. Had to stop you so that we could evacuate the building."

"Oh. This is going to suck." She groaned leaning into him.

"Oh yeah. It really is. We lost Jackson. He is the Kanima though. Not totally sure about the controller but it's defo Jackson." Stiles told her.

She spat on the floor ridding her mouth of the taste of her own vomit.

"He came at me, all scales and claws. Was horrifying. Nearly got me too at one point but couldn't touch me. Thank you very much for that by the way."

She pulled herself up and tapped his chest. "No problem."

Stiles pulled her to lean on him fully, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and began to guide her back to his car.

Her wits began to return slowly and she took in the car park. People were running around screaming, smoke poured out of the door to their left.

"What's going on?" She slurred tiredly.

"Scott and the Argents."

"Argents?" She panicked, Stiles tightened his grip on her shoulder.

"It's okay, you're not their target tonight. I just need to get you home then I can help out the rest of them, okay?"

Dumbly Diana nodded; she was in no fit state to help. It had taken more from her than she cared to admit doing the spell. Her magic was still unpredictable.

Stiles pulled open the Jeep door and bundled her into it. Her focus was off he could tell, like she was seeing everything strangely.

"You seeing something?" He asked handing her the seatbelt. She looked at it then at him and nodded slowly, her eyes fixing back to the door.

Matt stood there angrily looking around him before schooling his face and hurrying off with everyone else.

"That guy?" Stiles asked taking back the seatbelt and buckling her in.

Diana just nodded dumbly still feeling light headed. She looked back to Stiles.

"You look so beautiful." She murmured with a soft look. He did look beautiful; layers of swirling magic covered him like light on an oil puddle. Under that was clear and bright powerful colours, blues and greens in fantastic colours swirling and pulsing with every breath and heartbeat.

"Okay, yeah, let's get you home." Stiles laughed shutting the door on her.

Diana blinked rapidly, the sound of the door wrenching her to reality and clearing her sight to normal.

She yawned leaning back in the seat. "I'm gonna have a killer hang over tomorrow." She told Stiles as he started the engine.

"You didn't drink anything though?" He said perplexed.

Diana scoffed a laugh, "A Bacchanal still feels like you're drunk though. It's dangerous too; I had no idea who I was until you pulled me out." She said sleepily. "Thank you." She whispered falling asleep.

Stiles looked over at her and smiled to himself. It was good sometimes for him to save her.