Chapter Text
Stiles was bored, all the excitement of his graduation party was over, he had solemnly sworn that he was up to no good, that he and his generation would do more good and worse than the generation that came before them, and that they were the embodiment of the new American dream. He had eaten cake with his dad, had done shots with werewolves and kissed Lydia, much to everyone's amusement, even hers.
It had been a good night. Stiles was still too amped up.
He pulled out a well worn tome; leather bound grimoire that he had gotten from Derek after they had gotten rid of a gaggle of witches. Stiles had wanted to see what spells he could use to cure a hangover. There were about three dozen of them that would have worked, some more complicated than others, but they weren't fancy enough for drunken Stiles! He had to find the perfect hangover cure so he wouldn't have to go hunting for it in the morning
Then he got to the interesting parts. Conjuration. Destruction. Seeking. Necromancy.
These pages held some of the most difficult and the most interesting spells that existed. Well, that the coven that they had taken on had known existed. Stiles looked at the scrawls of dozens of high witches. Derek had joked that this was perfect for him, as he was their high witch. He had also tried to burn the thing but couldn't, so Stiles wasn't sure if Derek had actually meant that he wanted Stiles to be a high witch or trying to tease him for tying weed with Scott the week before. Still, Stiles had used many of the spells to heal minor injuries and to conjure or summon some food or drink when they needed him to. Stiles thought that they were all pretty cool.
Still, Drunk Stiles was antsy. He wanted to do something cool. What was cooler than summoning a hellcat to be his pet? That sounded like fun. Hell cats were nice to their summoners. They also listened to their summoner and the sommoner could earn their respect and get access to a wider amount of magical energies with the hell cat acting as a familiar. Stiles was intrigued. And the book said they were hypoallergenic, totally made of magic, no fur to shed, and they fed off sunlight or something magical and transistor.
He saw the dimensions of the summon circle. They were written in cubits. Stiles had never heard of a cubit before. He Googled it, reading a bit of this and that, waiting for his head to clear. A cubit and half a cubit in diameter, a second circle with quarter cubit more for the radius. He used the calculator app on his phone, and wondered how he was going to be able to do this. He didn't have too much space in his room. and he didn't want to mark his floor up either. Even as he pushed his nightstand and bed as far to one end as he could, he stared at the space dubiously. then decided that it was time for him to do some math, and divided everything so it could fit in his room.
That’s when he remembered that his dad usually had huge pieces of white paper in his office. And Stiles was home alone! This was perfect, he could be making a summon circle and then petting his hell cat in less than an hour! he re red everything he needed, noting that he learned that some herbs could be substituted, and that the basil he had in the cupboard could offset his need for "cumin" and he had never even heard of cumin. He went and grabbed two pieces of paper from his dad’s office and a big black sharpie as well, just because it would be easier to use than pencil. And the sigils needed to be bold because they would a bit squished and cramped, but he'd get the important ones in there, he was pretty sure.
All the ingredients and the objects in place, he worked his way up to his room for the last time that night, and locked the door behind himself. He wouldn't take any chances.
The summon circle took longer than he remembered it ever having taken him to draw a circle, even a really big circle. He was proud of himself for thinking ahead, having grabbed twine and scissors for creating the two circles, hopefully perfectly. his math worked out, his hands somehow didn't screw up the circle. The largest one almost touching the edge of the paper, but that's why he grabbed two, just in case. Stiles was happy, and started copying down the squiggly marks from the book. He glanced up at the clock, it was getting closer to midnight hand he had wanted it to be. Midnight was the best time to grab a hellcat, apparently those myths were true. Stiles smiled down at the book, he had finished the runes. And the last one was like Superman's crest. Stiles nerded out for a bit. He wouldn't have dared do this if he wasn't sure he wanted this, if he wasn't able to do this. And Superman was like a good luck symbol. This was like, blessed by some gods probably.
"I raise you from your dimension and bind you to mine, to work with me and to be a faithful companion." that's what the book had said to say. It had said to say the words out loud and that a hell cat would materialize in the circle, trapped until you finished the spell by naming it. It’s real name. A newer footnote was added, noting that the hellcat could just be called whatever you wanted; you didn't have to pretend to know the blasted things name at all. The note being written in green ink instead of the books more traditional red made Stiles wonder if it was a joke, or if it was just a younger person's revision. He'd ask, but he wasn't the one who tried to steal the life essence of children in his town.
He said the words, he lit the herbs and the ashes were placed in the circle magically, but there was no cat. He had wanted a cat! So he was angry. He started to pick up the stuff around his bed, and cut himself on the scissors. The blood on his hand was red, and dripped on the book, and in the circle he had been about to pick up. He was probably too drunk for this. He used one of his simpler healing spells, and decided to go to bed, it was late, and he had no little kitty, so it was bed time.
The last thing he thought before he went to bed, was that that symbol looked very cool, and that Superman tattoos must have meant something, back when tattoos meant something but he couldn’t figure out exactly why that seemed so important. He just went to bed.
He woke up to the sun shining. He felt sore. He took stock of what he could remember from last night, but it wasn’t much. Then he looked around the room, but couldn’t believe his eyes.