Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sitting there, absolutely bored out of his mind, with the clock slowly ticking by, Stiles wanted nothing more than to hear the ring of the bell. He was sitting in his last and only final, AP Biology, of the day. It was the second to last time that he would have to take high school finals. Even though, he had an A in the class, he had to take the final, since it was a yearlong course. Normally, for seniors, if they had an A in a semester class, they did not need to take the final. One of the perks of being a senior.

Looking back up at the clock, he saw that there was still 15 minutes left in the test period. He let a silent groan. He had finished his final exam within the first hour of the two hour period. Normally, when you finished he would have been able to leave, but due to recent “animal attacks”, the school enforced a rule that students needed to sit through the entire period. They believed that if everyone left at the same time the chances of them being attacked were less. People could be so stupid at times.

Looking around he saw Lydia filing away at her nails. He knew that she had also finished within the first hour, being as smart as she was. She suddenly stopped filing her nails, sitting up stick straight, and looked directly at Stiles. Her face had a panicked expression. Stiles stomach dropped. Of course something would go wrong. School was not even on break yet and the baddies were here.

What’s wrong? Stiles mouthed over to her.

I don’t know. I just got a weird feeling. It’s no biggie. It already passed. Lydia mouthed back. She may have convinced herself that it was nothing but by now Stiles knew that her feelings were never just feelings.

Lie. He mouth back. And you know it.

She rolled her eyes. I’ll tell you after class.

“There are five minutes remaining,” Ms. Martin said from the front of the room. Due to the “unfortunate disappearance” of Mr. Harris, about a year ago, they needed a substitute. They got Lydia’s mom, who they loved so much they hired her permanently.

Stiles stared at the clock wishing that it would move faster. About a minute before the bell rang, an uneasy feeling swept over him. He wasn’t able to decide whether it was good or bad. It was a mixture of the two. The first part made him feel hopeful and powerful. The second part felt like someone had just walked on his grave. He was so caught up in the feeling, he did not hear the bell ring.

A hand was gently placed on his shoulder though it still made him jump. Glancing up, he saw Lydia’s concern filled eyes. “Are you okay, Stiles?”

“Yeah, totally. Just startled me is all.” He knew Lydia saw the true meaning in his eyes. He was concerned about the feeling. She gave a nod, saying she understood and allowed him to stand up.

“I’ll see you later, mom,” Lydia shot over her shoulder as they walked out.

“Okay, sweetheart.”

“See ya around, Ms. Martin.”

“See ya, Stiles.”

The hallway was an ocean of commotion as students ran to their lockers, grabbing their stuff, and talking about their winter plans. Stiles and Lydia, however, were the complete opposite. They walked in silence to Lydia’s locker, waiting for the other to talk first. As Lydia opened her locker, Stiles spoke up. “So…back in the classroom. What was that all about?”

A smirk pulled on Lydia’s lip. “I could ask you the same thing, Stiles.”

He flailed his arms, randomly with no discernible pattern. “That’s beside the point, Lydia. I asked you first.”

Lydia turns and faces him, leaning her shoulder against her locker. “There was a supernatural disturbance that piqued the interest of the banshee. It was gone as soon as it came. Your turn.” She smiles at him.

They start walking out to the parking lot, maneuvering through the crowds. “Right before the bell rang, I got this weird feeling. It felt both good and bad. There was hope in it but it also felt like someone walked on my grave,” his hand reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, “It was probably nothing though.”

As they walked towards the Jeep, they see Malia sitting on the hood, waiting for him, a smile across her face. Lydia grabbed his bicep, making him stop. “That’s a total lie and you know it.”

He looked down at her, raising his eyebrows. “Now, why do those words sound vaguely familiar?”

“Oh, shut up.” She smacked his arm and Stiles smirked.

They continue walking to the Jeep. “What? You are taking my advice and spitting it back at me. You seem to do that a lot. I don’t know if you realized that but it’s true.” Malia hops off the hood as they stop in front of it. She bounds towards Stiles and gives him a quick peck. Lydia does not even attempt to hide her flinch.

“I’ll see you around, Stiles. That is my cue to leave.” Lydia turns and walks towards her car.

“Wait! Lydia! Don’t be like that.” Stiles complains.

Without turning around, Lydia raises her hand in farewell. Though Stiles can’t see it, there are tears forming in her eyes. “I’ll text you later, Stiles.”

Climbing into the Jeep, with Malia on the passenger side, Stiles voices, “Why is she always like that when you are around, Malia?”

Malia lets out a chuckle and raises one eyebrow “Are you serious, Stiles?”

Stiles starts the Jeep and pulls out of the spot, mentally project the route to Malia’s home. “Of course, I am serious.”

“She’s jealous. She is jealous of our relationship. Even if I couldn’t smell emotions, I would know that she is jealous.”

A confused look crosses Stiles’ face. “Why is she jealous though? That’s what I don’t get.”

“You’re kidding, right? Stiles, Lydia has feelings for you. She knows she can’t act on them while we are together.”

If Stiles was told this, even a year ago, he would have been ecstatic. But, he now has feelings for Malia. At the moment, he loves Lydia like a sister. “Oh. I thought she was with Parrish, though.”

“She was but they broke it off about a month ago. It was not working out.”

“Why am I just finding this out now?”

“Don’t ask me.”

The car ride falls silent. As Stiles passes his street, Malia looks at him. “Um…Stiles? You just passed your street.”

“I know. I am taking you home. I have stuff I need to get done.”

Five minutes later, he is pulling out of Malia’s driveway and driving out of the preserve. Though Malia found out she was Peter’s daughter, she still lives with her adoptive father to keep up appearances. Stiles pulls into his driveway, ten minutes later, and turns off the Jeep. Putting his keys on his index finger, he spins them around as he thinks. Why did he get a supernatural feeling? He is not even a supernatural creature. Was it the same as Lydia’s or a completely different one?

After ten minutes, he climbs out and walks up the walkway. He is so caught up in his head, he doesn’t notice the dark van at the end of his drive or the person sneaking up behind him. As he puts his keys into the front door, a clawed hand grabs the side of his head and slams it into the door. Pain shoots through his head as he collapses. The hand smacks his head into the concrete steps two times and Stiles’ world goes black.

Chapter Text

After the whole Malia incident, Lydia can barely keep it together as she drives to home. She will be alone again tonight since her mother has a date with Coach Finstock. Lydia called this relationship off the bat. Unfortunately, it has taken both of them a year to get the balls to say anything. Their relationship was a slow build starting out just as friends. They realized their feelings for each other after the outbreak of Canine Distemper that tore through the school. But they didn’t act on them. Natalie Martin needed Lydia to push her to make her realize her feelings. Scott and Stiles helped with the Coach side of things.

It is similar to her relationship with Stiles. Lydia ignoring him for most of his life, then becoming friends after everything that happened with Peter, the Alpha Pack and Darach, and the Nogitsune. It, unfortunately, took Stiles almost dying to realize her feelings. She was going to act on them but then Malia came along. She put up with it because Stiles was happy. Then, the Benefactor came and they were just a detective team again. It is true that Parrish had feelings for Lydia and vice versa but those were short lived.

Lydia pulls over to the side of the road. Just thinking about Stiles makes her tears break free. She leans her head against the wheel and sobs. She cries over Allison. She cries over Stiles. She cries over Parrish. She cries over all the shit that has happened recently. She loses track of time while she cries but suddenly the feeling is back. Sitting up straight, with stray tears on her cheeks, she focuses on the feeling. It is definitely not good. Someone is in trouble, serious trouble. The name bubbles from her lips before she can stop it.

“Stiles.”

Getting her game face on, she wipes the tears, and does a very illegal U-turn, driving directly towards Stiles’ house.

As Lydia approaches, she knows something is off. Pulling in front of the mailbox, she throws the car in park and clambers out. Stiles’ Jeep sits in the driveway, looking perfectly normal, as it does every day after school. From the lack of the police cruiser, Lydia knows the Sheriff isn’t home yet. Then, again, it is barely 4:30 and the Sheriff works till 10pm.

Her breathing picks up as she approaches the front steps. Sitting in the lock are Stiles’ keys. Cautiously, she tests the handle, which doesn’t budge. “So he never even made it inside.”

Then her eyes see it. There, sitting on the concrete steps, is a streak of red, contrasting against the grey of the steps. Her knees give out and hit the steps hard. But she is numb to the pain. Her fear for Stiles over rides the pain. “Oh, god, Stiles.” Knowing she is on the verge of a panic attack, she quickly calms herself and focuses her mind. Whipping her phone out, she calls Scott, who answers on the second rings.

“Hey, Lydia. What’s up?” She barely registers his cheerful voice.

She draws in a shaky breath. His tone instantly becomes serious and concerned. “Lydia? Are you okay?” Another shaky breath. “Lydia, talk to me.”

“Scott.” It is barely a whisper but Scott hears it. “Scott, it’s Stiles. I think he’s been kidnapped.”

Pain. This is what Stiles first registers as he comes around. The left side of his head throbs in unbelievable pain. Pain so unbearable that it causes him to throw up. With a groan, he rolls on to his back. He feels blood caked on the side of his head. It would not surprise him if he had a concussion.

Gingerly, he opens his eyes, only to snap them shut again. Artificial light stabbed at his eyes when he opened them. Opening them more slowly this time, he is able to take in his surroundings.

Straight above him is the dirt ceiling. As carefully as he can, he forces himself upward, ignoring the stabbing pain and waves of nausea that roll over him and blurry vision. It is a difficult job mostly due to his hands cuffed behind his back. The cold metal bites into his wrists every time he moves. Once his vision clears, he views the rest of the room. Except for the steel door directly across from him, everything else is dirt. Four dirt walls and a dirt floor. A bare bulbs hangs in middle of the cell.

He draws his knees into his chest as a shiver runs down his spine. Sure, he lives in California, but it is the winter. The high today was only in the 50’s with a low in the 20’s. If the pack doesn’t find him by tonight, he is most likely going to freeze to death.

He leans his head back against the cold dirt and shuts his eyes. Stiles guesses he should be more worried because he was kidnapped, but then he tends to get kidnapped a lot for the pack. Whether it is hunters, fey, witches, werewolves, or any other supernatural creature, they all seem to kidnap him because he is the pack human. They think of him as the weakest link. The vulnerable one who isn’t able to defend himself. They all try to get information about the pack from him though they should know by now he never gives anything up. Why should this time be any different?

The temperature drops rapidly, growing colder and colder by the minute. This is the only way Stiles knows that time is passing. Viewing his watch isn’t an option since it is cuffed behind his back. The metal is freezing against his swollen wrists. Whenever he tries to warm his hands, he only succeeds in rubbing the skin raw, drawing blood.

His mind flashes back to the night he sleepwalked into the coyote den. He almost froze to death that night. The same way he might tonight if he isn’t found soon. He should get up and move around but he is too tired. His muscles ache too much and his head is in too much pain. Besides, he can’t feel his feet.

“You know,” he croaks, his throat dry, “if you want me alive, you should probably get me out of this room and into someplace warm. Though, I am absolutely fine where I am.” Stiles doubts that he’ll get a response since there has been no interaction from his captors. He is proven wrong as the door opens. Whipping his eyes open, he sees a silhouette in the doorway.

“I don’t think the boss will be too pleased if you die. Don’t you agree, Genim Emrys Stilinski?” A drawling voice says as it eye glow a laser blue.

Chapter Text

Stiles’ stomach dropped when he heard his name. Very few people actually knew his true name. Obviously, his dad did as well as Scott. He doesn’t remember if Lydia knows or not, but she most likely does. But that is where the list ends. He rarely shares it with anyone. Hell, a majority of the pack doesn’t even know his name.

What worries Stiles the most is that this werewolf, not only knows his first name but his middle name and can pronounce them correctly.

The werewolf steps into the pool of light cast by the bulb. The wolf, in his beta form, is maybe in his late 40’s or early 50’s with dingy shoulder length brown hair. It hangs in clumps around his face. Upon closer look of his green shirt, Stiles sees dark stains scattered throughout it. The wolf’s jeans are very worn, with frayed cuffs and ripped knees.

A putrid smell wafts towards Stiles as the wolf stalks closer. “God! When was the last time you bathed? You like death and a garbage dump, which alone are terrible smells, but together…ugh.” Stiles gags out wishing he could block out the horrid smell. “On the other hand, it must make it very easy to track you.”

The wolf laughs harshly. “So it is true. You have no filter, Genim. That is going to get you in trouble one day. Oh, wait. It already has.”

“The wolf’s got jokes. How long are you here till? Thursday? Friday? I need to get my money so I can pay to see the show. Not that I don’t appreciate the free show, but it is just common courtesy.”

Stiles head whips sideways, rattling his brain, as the wolf punches him. His head is throbbing again. “Whoa. So not cool. I am already nursing a terrible concussion. There is no need to make it worse. Besides, we were having a civil conversation. No need to start swinging.”

“If you would shut your sarcastic mouth, I would not have to, Genim.”

“Hate to disappoint, but not sure if that is possible. Seriously, dude, what’s is your name? Clearly, since you know mine, you could at least tell me yours. Fido? Max? It’s Spot, isn’t it?” Stiles’ nose breaks as he his punched again. Blood runs over his mouth, flowing down his chin, and onto his red hoodie. “Come on,” he groans, “This was my favorite hoodie.”

“No one likes a smartass, Stiles. Jeffery, by the way.” Jeffery squats, yanking Stiles’ head back. Stiles hisses in pain as his claws dig into his scalp. “You sure don’t look like much. Then again, neither did Merlin.”

“Don’t let it foul you though. I pack a hell of a punch…Wait. Merlin? What does he have to do with this?”

Jeffery feigns surprise. “What?! You mean you don’t know?”

“Jeffery!” A new voice yells harshly, loud but distant. “What is taking you so long? Gag the boy and come! The boss doesn’t like to be waiting!”

A grin spreads across Jeffery’s lips. “The boss has had very eager to see you again, Stiles. You are going to have such a great time.” Jeffery reaches behind his back and pulls out a roll of duct tape. As Jeffery rips a piece, Stiles struggles against the cuffs. Of course, there is no leeway. “Now, now, Stiles. None of that. Be a good captive.” The duct tape is placed firmly across his mouth, blocking any noise that he might make. More duct tape covers his eyes, wrapping around his head a few times.

Awesome. Sensory deprivation. Jeffery throws Stiles over his shoulder like a sack of flower and carried off.

Chapter Text

I know it has been a very long time since I have posted and written anything for this fic, but I SWEAR I didn't forget about it. It's just that life happened. I'm about to make a whole bunch of excuses, though they actually happened, so just bear with me.

College happened. Then getting sick at college and having to withdrawn because of my illness, happened. Then I didn't have a computer, and still don't, since my college provided them and I had to give it back (I am actually typing this up on my Mom's tablet). My job got in the way. Then I started college at the local community college. I ended up getting my EMT license in January. And currently, I am taking classes that are required for me to become a paramedic.

The point I am trying to get to is that I am not sure if I'm going to continue this fic. I still have the basic outline in my head. I liked writing for this fic. However, I have recently thought up another fic, Teen Wolf related, that I like a hell of a lot more. I plan on writing that one very soon. I may come back to More Than a Spark once I finish From High Above (working title), but I am not 100% sure.

In case anyone is curious, I am doing a lot better.

Please let me know if you guys want me to continue this fic. I want to take a concensus (not even sure if I'm using that correctly).

Thanks for bearing with me and I hope you'll read From High Above once I start posting.