Chapter Text
Stiles fell on his bed and sighed. He rubbed his hands down his face and tried to explain to himself whatever the fuck just happened back at the school. He knew he was strong, and he knew he had a temper, if pushed enough, but my God. He lifted up two alphas- two freaking alphas- and threatened them. What the fuck?
Honestly, man. Is he trying to had a toe tag by the end of this week?
Stiles released another sigh as his phone began to ring. He reached over and picked it up.
“Hello?” he answered.
“Stiles, what the hell did you do? Aiden and Ethan came running into the school steaming. They were ranting on how you just promised to kill them,” Derek’s voice was eerily calm on the other end.
“Well, in my defense, they had threatened to hurt Lydia, so,” Stiles replied.
“I don’t care. You can say whatever you want, Stiles, that’s fine. It’s the fact that you had to lift them both up and slam against a freaking car,” Derek said, his voice losing its cool at the end.
“I’m sorry, okay? I don’t know what happened, or how I even managed to do that. They taunted me, and I reacted poorly,” he answered, and okay, maybe “reacted poorly” was a bit of an-
“Understatement, Stiles,” Derek finished his thoughts for him.
“Whatever, I mean it’s not like anyone’s going to believe them. They’re always pulling jokes, and spreading bullshit,” Stiles rushed, confused on how Derek knew what he was thinking.
“That may be true, but still, you have gotten their attention. So for the love of God, Stiles, don’t do it again. Stay under the radar. Try to keep it under control.”
“And please, explain to me how the fuck I’m supposed to that? You don’t think it’s been exactly that what I’ve been trying to do? But with so little information, and no freaking self-control it’s a little hard,” he snapped, considering how ticked off Derek would be if he hung up right then and there. He decided against it when he heard a soft I’m sorry, on the other end.
“How hard is it?” Derek asked, his voice calm again and gentle.
“You know how hard it was for Scott and the others to control themseleves on a full moon? Or how hard it was for you?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, I obviously didn’t experience it, but I imagine it’s something like that only… I don’t know… maybe a bit more worse?” it came out of his mouth as a question, he didn’t want to push his luck.
“Yeah, I thought it would be,” Derek sighed, surprising him. “Peter and I are trying our best to dig up what we can, but just like you we’ve been unsuccessful. Hang on tight, though, we’ll figure it out.” Stiles nodded before he remembered that he was on the phone.
“Yeah, yeah. Okay, Derek,” he said, “and thanks,” he added quickly before hanging up.
Stiles laid back down on his bed and stretched his arms. Enough of this Ricca crap, he was going to think about things that actually mattered right now. He was the least important right now.
The alphas had returned their injured betas, save for Lydia who had somehow managed to wake up from her sleep and walk to the body. She had explained to them that she didn’t remember waking up or how she got there, and so they left it alone for a while, but now as Stiles had time to ponder at it, he was going to.
When Peter had first bitten Lydia, her body had shown signs of rejecting the bite, but then as days passed, her wounds began to heal at an incredible speed, and on a full moon her eyes turned gold. She didn’t go full on transformation, but she had somehow acquired some characteristics of a werewolf. It seemed strange to them, but Deaton has assured them that sometimes things like this happen because every person’s body handle the bite differently. Of course, it occurred rarely, but it’s Lydia, so Stiles had accepted it.
Now, though, something seemed off. Not to mention that there was something new in town. Something that had taken everyone by surprise. Something that was not terrified of an alpha pack but actually terrified them. Then there were the bodies to think about. There hasn’t been any new ones found, but normally, or from what Stiles knew, one virgin sacrifice was enough.
“What the?” Stiles rushed as pain emanated from his back. He quickly sat up and ripped his shirt off. He groaned from the pain and quickly ran to the bathroom. In the mirror Stiles turned around and what was reflected back at him, left him feeling weak in the knees.
His birthmark was red and it was pulsing. The pain was so excruciating that Stiles had to place his hands on the wall to keep from falling over. His breath came out quicker and he began seeing black spots in his vision.
“Stiles? Are you okay, son?” his dad’s voice came from behind the door.
“Yeah, fine, just a headache,” he replied shakily, willing himself not to topple over.
“Are you sure?” his dad inquired, the worry clear in his voice.
“Yeah, yeah, dad I’m f-fine. Go on to work, don’t want to b-be late for your sh-shift,” he answered, blinking rapidly. He focused long enough to hear the retreating footsteps of his father and then a slam of a door, then he released his hold from the wall and fell to his knees.
He rubbed his hands back and forth across his forehead in a desperate attempt to make the pain go away, but after a couple tries, it proved useless, and to be honest, Stiles was getting tired. And he was thirsty and hot. He wanted water. The thought of water filled his head, and he was so caught up in the visions and pain he didn’t hear it.
The faucet turned, and a steady stream flowed from it.
Stiles was too busy concentrating on the idea of having water, he didn’t realize what was happening.
He turned then, on instinct, and pressed his back against the wall. Opening his mouth he waited as the water made a path towards him then into his mouth and down his throat. He wasn’t losing his shit over the fact that the water had magically made its way to him. He just drank and drank, when he was satisfied, the faucet shut off and the remaining water splashed lightly on his face.
The thirst was gone, and surprisingly so was his headache, and the once excruciating pain on his back was gone. He stood up gracefully without any dizziness, and walked over to the sink. He turned and caught sight of his back, the mark was no longer pulsing, but it was still faintly red.
His hand gingerly brushed it and he was startled to find that it was warm. He shrugged and headed back to his room. He took the remainder of his clothes off and got ready for bed. It was dark out already, and when he had rushed to the bathroom it was still daylight out. He felt as if he had only been in the bathroom for a couple minutes, but it seemed it had taken him longer than that.
Finally, he was snuggled up under the covers, and he was just beginning to fall asleep when he quickly jolted up into a seating position.
“Oh my God.”
*********************
Stiles jogged up the stairs of Beacon Hills High School, a lot quicker than he normally did, but he ignored it. It’s been two days since the water incident, and Stiles has begun noticing slight changes in his physical abilities.
He’s getting stronger, which was not really a surprised considering he slammed two alpha dorks against a car, he sight is better like way better, and his reflexes are really fantastic.
Inhumane, you mean, his mind whispered the thought. He shook his head roughly and pressed his lips into a tight line.
Luckily, no weird water tricks have happened… yet. Stiles was determined to not let them happen. He was a freak as it is, he didn’t need another reason to be deemed as one.
“Stiles! Hey, man! Where have you been?” Scott said, slinging an arm over his best friend’s shoulder.
“Oh, hey,” Stiles startled looking at Scott, “Umm, I’ve been busy. You know researching and then I have to do that chem essay for Harris or he’ll have my freaking head.”
Scott nodded in understanding and ran a hand through his mop of hair. Stiles felt bad for lying to his best friend, whom seemed to trust him so easily. He would never expect Stiles to lie to him, or keep anything from him.
“Oh, just the guys I was looking for,” Allison smiled stepping in their paths. “Stiles, we haven’t practiced in a long time, and the betas haven’t trained,” she added, her eyes narrowing at Scott, “I think we should stop by Derek’s after school and fix that.”
“Yeah, good idea!” Scott agreed, grinning at his girlfriend then at Stiles.
“Um, I-I can’t sorry,” Stiles ushered, stepping out of Scott’s arm and letting it fall to his side.
“What? Why not?” Scott question, giving Stiles his puppy dog look. Stiles had to turn away from it in order to not throw himself on the floor and tell Scott everything.
“I’m busy, remember?” he snorted, ignoring Allison’s gaze as well. “Sorry, guys. Have to run now!” he added, turning swiftly and running back down the stairs. When he reached the doors, he broke off into a sprint and made a beeline for his car.
“Whoa, bro,” a voice said as Stiles collided with another body.
“Oommff,” Stiles grunted as he regained his balance. He glanced up to find a familiar face in front of him. When did he get there? Stiles hadn’t seem him when he was running across the lot. He had just turned for a second and then turned back and he was there.
“You okay?” the voice asked.
“Uh- yeah. Fine, ‘bout you?”
“I’m good, but like damn. You almost ran me over,” the stranger laughed, “Watch it next time, Stilinski.”
Stiles was confused at first as to how this stranger knew his name. Then it occurred to him. This guy was in two of his classes, his name was like Jeff or Jamie, something with a ‘J’.
“Right, sorry about that. In a hurry, so I’ll be seeing you,” he rushed, walking around the guy.
“Okay? Um bye?” the guy called out, but Stiles didn’t hear him as he jogged lightly the rest of the way to his Jeep.
As soon as he slid in the driver’s seat, pain began radiating from his back again. It wasn’t as bad as it was the first time, but it still hurt like hell. Stiles sucked in his breath and willed himself to start his car and drive home. He managed to do just that, but as soon as he stepped through the front door he fell to his knees.
He sucked in a gulp of air and released it in a haggard breath. His head swam and once again black spots began to cloud his vision.
“Noo,” he groaned, placing his hands on the floor in front of him. The mark burned like fire on his back, and he tore off his shirt, thinking that maybe the hit of air would help it. It did by a bit. Then all Stiles was thinking was how he really needed to get back outside, and feel the wind hug his body. He was hot. So hot. He began dragging himself towards the kitchen where the door to the backyard was.
It was a struggle because his body ached, but he kept trying.
Come on, come on. He kept thinking, the phrase becoming a mantra. He was a couple feet away now, but to him it felt like miles. His head was pounding so hard now, and his body just couldn’t anymore.
He sprawled out on the tile, and began blinking rapidly- images of dancing leaves and gusts of winds leading sails out on the ocean filling his mind.
Almost immediately he heard a noise. His brain vaguely registered the sound of… windows? Shaking? Was there an earthquake happening? The sound of the door snapping caused Stiles to forcefully raise his head.
Sure enough, the door was pounding as if someone was knocking on it, and the windows rattled. Stiles willed himself to move towards the door until finally he reached it. Stretching his hand out to open the knob, the door suddenly opened, and Stiles managed to roll out of the way before it smacked him.
Wind poured in through the room like the waves of a hurricane. Stiles somehow managed to sit up against the island in the middle of the kitchen, and he watched in amazement as papers flew around and around the room. He then tore his gaze from the ceiling where the papers were circling and glanced outside.
His jaw fell open as he took in the view. The tops of the trees weren’t moving. The grass wasn’t bending, and the flowers weren’t dancing. Yet, here, inside the house, the papers were performing a ritual above him. He noted then that his head stopped pounding, and the burn on his back had dulled into a slight sting.
“I’m so fucked,” he whispered, hugging his knees to his chest.Tears stung his eyes, but he’d be damned if he let them fall. The papers stopped sailing around, and lazily flew down to the ground.
He sat there for a couple more seconds, minutes, hours? Who knew? When he had finally regained his equilibrium he stood up and began cleaning the room. When he was finished he walked upstairs and threw himself on top of his bed. In less than a nanosecond, he was dozing off.
********
“Ugh,” Stiles whined, reaching across his bed and picking up his cellphone. “Hello,” he answered groggily.
“Stiles? Stiles!” a voice said.
“Yeah, that’s my name, don’t wear it out,” he mumbled still half asleep.
“Real funny, Stiles, but right now’s not the time,” the voice said again sounding really urgent. Stiles glanced at his clock and read three in the morning. What the hell guys?
“What is it?” he yawned.
“Stiles! Wake up we need you! I sent you our location, it’s- it’s not safe. Something’s hap-,” the voice was interrupted by a blood-curdling scream in the background that woke Stiles up. Then a loud male voice, who he was sure was Scott’s, shouting Derek!
Stiles jumped out of bed and thanked God for still being dressed. He stopped for a second and considered jumping through the window. After a second he thought damn it all, opened it, and hopped out. Falling gracefully on his feet, he checked his texts and began running.
Twenty minutes later, he was deep somewhere in the forest. His legs running faster than ever- avoiding twigs, holes, and other objects. He wasn’t breathing hard at all, but right now that didn’t matter. He’d deal with his freaky abilities later, right now his friends needed him, and he was going to make sure they were-.
He came to a sudden stop. His eyes scanned the bare field in front of him. Every muscle in his body tensed, and the mark on his back pulsed, but not with pain. It was something else. It felt cool and refreshing. It made him alert. He took a cautious step forward and waited. After several minutes he spoke.
“I know you’re out there. Show yourself. Now,” he said, loudly but calmly. He waited a couple seconds then spoke again, “Derek?”
A laugh echoed through his ears and Stiles’ lips pressed into a hard line. He had figured Derek wouldn’t be here. Something in his gut was telling him so, it was a strange sensation. A feeling that he noted back in his room, but it was quiet compared to the raging voice that had to make sure his friends were okay.
Now, he realized, that he should have listened to it.
His friends weren’t here. They were home and safe. The realization made him relax a bit. That’s all that mattered. Whatever happened to him- happened. He didn’t care, so long as his pack was safe.
“Hello, Stiles,” a deep voice greeted, interrupting his thoughts.
Stiles clenched his fists and replied cooly, “Mind showing me your face? Or your name? Looks like you have me at a disadvantage.”
The voice laughed again but replied, “Well, I’m not Derek.”
“No shit,” Stiles laughed bitterly, the mark pumping on his back with the beat of his heart.
“Gotta smart mouth on you too, huh? Intelligent, clever, strong, and powerful, full package it seems,” the voice said.
Stiles walked out into the field raising his hands in the air, a smirk spreading across his face, “Don’t forget looks,” he added. The back of his mind was questioning his actions, but something else seemed to have taken control over him. “Why don’t you come out and lemme see if you can compete,” he taunted.
The voice chuckled, but then out of the corner of his eye, Stiles saw a figure step into the field.
Stiles eyes widened and the inside of his mouth went dry. Stiles eyes raked over the man and took in every detail. He was tall, lean, and had dark curls atop of his head. He reminded him of Scott for a moment, but his best friend’s hair was messy and framed his face making him appear adorable and friendly. This guy’s hair was combed neatly, none of it falling on his face, so one could see the chiseled outlines of it. While the guy was startling attractive, there was one thing, okay two, that made Stiles’ heart stop. Not in the good way either.
Staring at him with an enormous amount of intensity, the man’s eyes glowed a bright scarlet. Stiles has never seen anything like it, not even the eyes of his werewolves glowed like that.
“Shall we try again? Hello, Stiles, I’m-,” he began.
“Jeremy,” Stiles finished, finally remembering the name of the guy who he had almost ran over in the parking lot.
Jeremy smiled at him, and Stiles took a tentative step back, his fists balled tightly- he could feel his nails cutting into his skin.
“What’s the matter, Stiles?” Jeremy questioned innocently, tilting his head and squinting at him. It almost would have worked. If it weren’t for his eyes, and the huge ball of fire surrounding him. “Don’t you wanna play?” he pressed, a malicious smirk spreading across his face.
Stiles barely had any time to react before a row of flames shot out from Jeremy’s hand, and they were heading directly towards him.