Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The supernatural, the underlying force that exists in the world, is one of those things that most communities wouldn’t have to put a single bit of thought towards understanding, not that I can blame them sometimes. The human, because yes no matter what hunters and other extreme groups might say supernatural beings are still human no matter what evidence they use to say otherwise, population is at most thirty percent supernatural, with most of that percent being made up of werewolves and other shifters. A hefty amount at face value.

Sadly, or not so sadly to some groups of people, that statistic is disingenuous. While thirty percent of the human population is supernatural in one form or another only maybe a fourth of that thirty is actually supernatural enough to be seen as supernatural to the public.

Just because a person has a better immune system and can heal slightly faster from the fact their grandad was a werecoyote doesn’t actually make them a werecoyote. They don’t shift under the moon, they have no feral desire to rip apart others and the need to go by their instincts. Having not even one of those things kinda no sells your markings as a shifter from what I can tell.

I stared at the bite marking my side, two rows of ragged teeth on me. I was out in the forest collecting some herbs and dead bark when I got attacked by a werewolf, a red eyed werewolf, a Alpha.

Just my luck.

Though attacked is a bit of a light word for me being chased and bulled over by a fully shifted werewolf. The thing infected me with no consent on my part. Actually attacked is nowhere close to the correct word for this situation, maybe mauled is a better word to describe what happened to me.

The fact that at least ninety percent of the Beacon Hill teen population would have loved to be turned into a werewolf makes it biting me even more infuriating. It had to go for probably the one person, who was not also a complete psycho cough hunters cough, who didn’t want to become a werewolf at all just makes this situation even worse.

I won’t say I hate the supernatural, that would sound pretty racist and be generally false but I do want to have nothing to do with the supernatural community as a whole. I mean some of the stuff happening in the supernatural community is really interesting and the discoveries that pop up every now and then that aren't either hordeed and kept a secret or aren't red taped into oblivion, are sometimes mind blowing.

Though that is with the caveat of the research being published is actually useful. Learning that a rare mushroom from Sweden heals at a slightly faster rate than a Thyme, a herb with mid range healing properties, isn’t that useful for your average California teenager who doesn’t want to blow all of their saved up money just to midmax a healing remedy.

None of that matters for my current situation though.

There's always been horror stories about people rejecting the bite and dying a painful death, stories about people conflicting with the instincts of their wolf and going insane and hundreds of other stories detailing how the bite can go wrong. Most of them were probably propaganda to make sure kids don’t go bearing their necks for the nearest Alpha but the ones that I knew for sure were true warned me off pretty easily.

Though that is mostly my experience with the higher supernatural community talking.

I felt the burning from the bite heighten to new levels as the wolfsbane reacted to it, the wound sizzling ever so slightly.

I never ever thought I would ever use this theory. Use the idea around trying to separate a wolf from their host. Mostly because of the moral reason of doing so but also because I never thought I would ever become a werewolf in the first place.

Stiles would have probably had a much safer and better way to deal with the current citation, hell if I had Stiles with me I probably wouldn’t have been in that forest at all. We would have been goofing around playing with magic and having fun.

Of course Stiles isn’t here and he is never going to be here so I have to deal with that fact, lets just ignore the little detail that I have been trying to get over Stiles leaving for the past six years of my life.

Sometimes I wish I didn’t hide the fact I was just like him. I could be with him right now if I didn’t..

My brooding was interrupted by my side flaring up one final time before going down, the pain of the injury becoming a dull throb as I started to clean up the stay bits of paper bindings and wolfsbane that were wrapped on my side..

What I just did should cure me of lycanthropy, though before any radical hunter groups get it in their head to start using that on other werewolves it only works on newly transformed werewolves.

I let out a tired sigh.

There is an alpha going around mauling people, and I can’t even tell people without outing myself, and I might have almost been transformed into a werewolf but right now I should be happy that I was able to treat it and stop me from turning to the furry side.

Mom would probably freak the hell out if I showed up one day with yellow, or for god's sake red eyes. She already can barely handle the fact I can do magic.

I moved to the bathroom and right when I entered there I was blindsided by the wound flaring up once again, the red scares appearing in a red fury. The pain of the reemerging injury is almost just as painful as when the alpha ripped into my side in the first place.

I barely got a grip onto the sink counter before I was groaning as the pain raged on becoming even higher and most definitely outshining the actual bite of the alpha. Heck right now this is probably the most pain I’ve felt in my entire life, right up there with the time I made an accidental magical molotov and lit my leg on fire.

I gripped the sink counter and felt the ceramic under my grip start to crack.

I let out a whine as another burst of pain hit me, the leftover wolfsbane that I didn’t think to clean up making the situation even worse.

Obviously my idea didn’t work and by the looks of it.

Yellow eyes stared at me from the mirror, a sharp set of teeth lay in my mouth, my caines jutting forward even more compared to my other teeth. They are like mini baby tusks. I could feel my muscles binding together like there was this invisible tension inside of me waiting and wanting to be released.

Intrusive thoughts entered my head, all of them brutal and primal in nature.

Obviously my ‘cure’ didn’t work at all. If anything it increased the rate that lycanthropy was merging with me. That's what I get for going with a plan that I only barely ironed out the details of.

Another wave of pain went through me before I gained enough control over myself to throw myself into the shower and blast cold water onto me washing the wolfsbane and numbing my wound under the spray.

Okay, obviously my theory of being able to numb and maybe even hurting the wolf enough for it not to be able to take place in a newly bitten victim was wrong, if anything I just found a way to speed up the process of transformation. That’s probably interesting information to think over later but I kinda wish I got this data at a better time.

I could feel my new sharp teeth biting into my lips drawing a line of blood that was quickly washed away.

How do werewolves deal with these things?

I moved my mouth experimentally and felt my newly enquired set of teeth cluck and cut into my mouth and tongue every time I went to talk or even sound out a word. These things are going to be annoying and probably painful to deal with.

The tiny cuts in my mouth were healing at a rate that would have put the base humans to shame

If that wasn’t enough I had claws, a set of sharp inch long claws that proudly extended from my fingers. They were just weird to look at and move. I’m pretty sure these things can give exacto blades a run for their money.

I let out a sigh as I stepped out of the shower, my pants were soaked because of course I wasn’t smart enough to take them off before hopping into the shower, and moved towards my dresser.

Each drawer held ingredients but the bottom drawer in particular held several jars with all of them being labeled with the name of a herb, flowers, or misk. The drawer above that one held several pieces of parchment, dried pieces of charcoal and a notebook. The top drawer held my clothing, I tried to get my mom to let me use that drawer for more storage but she drew the ling and said I had to use that one for something ‘normal’. I love you Mom. I really do but I am anything but normal.

These are my wonders, my collection that I have built up after years of work, gathering, and experimentation. Took me so much time to get a respectable amount of home designed recipes.

One of the first rules I read about being a devler of the supernatural was to encode all of my notes. I can’t tell if that is the internet being paranoid or it being weirdly sensible but either way it seems like the smart thing to do.

I don’t want someone breaking into my house and going through my room only to find my forward force recipe.

Magic is pretty light on law restrictions but making weapon designs gives you a lot of attention. Not any particular good attention either. I mean a person could create designs and even summon beings from other planes of existence that put the modern knowledge of physics upside down but you make one spell that is harmful and they throw a fit.

I mean one of the main reasons that the Dread Doctors are still a thing and haven't been hunted down with extreme prejudice is their notes are just that good. Those things are worth their weight in gold and people are still trying to decode the few notes that they leave behind every now and then. The things that have been uncovered are amazing to think about if they hold any weight. Heck, one of them was the base for my idea on poisoning the wolf.

I have to wonder where I messed up on that part. I’ve been pretty good at figuring out which of the notes they leave are traps or not. I probably tried to do something too big with too little information on what I was actually doing.

This is just like the golem experiment all over again.

That amount of times that I’ve accidentally nearly killed myself and have had to abuse magic to make sure I didn’t die is horrifyingly amusing in some dark way.

I grabbed some thyme and sage, usually I would use mint but I’m running low on that stuff and I need to save what little I have till I can make another supply run. Funny enough, today's run for the stuff was interrupted.

Crushing the two herbs and rolling them together, all the while trying not to slice myself with my new set of claws, I felt the air grow charged just a tiny bit as I rubbed the mixture onto my injury.

The wound grew numb.

I’ve read some posted journals about how the environment aura changes just a bit when a person does some magic. For base people, even Sparks are included in this category sadly enough, they couldn’t feel the slight change in the air. It’s one of those things that we just don’t have the senses for which makes sense from a logical standpoint. It’s kinda funny, logic being used when magic is so bull crap sometimes.

I watched as the wound healed almost fully, only a light scar remaining that would go away given time. An alpha wound healing at almost a normal werewolf rate. When I grow older, or in other words when I don’t have to worry about being revealed, I am most definitely going to be selling my uses as a healer. My Mom and I wouldn’t have to worry about money then.

Stiles and I had this big dream of the both of us becoming King Druids and fighting Darachs and the other forces of darkness in a grand battle. And coming home with piles of golds and titles under our names being worshiped with how awesome we were in longley worded tales and stories.

I shook myself out of that train of thought quickly.

Changing my clothing after changing my clothing into something that wasn’t soaked I flopped on my bed and took to staring at the ceiling.

I gave up on holding back and let myself reminisce just a bit more, imagining what the world would be like if Stiles and I could be together still, a world where I could show off how special I was without having to worry about being taken away from my mom and leaving her a sobbing mess with the Sheriff.

Why did they have to figure out the fact that you were a Spark Stiles? Why couldn’t you have hid it like I did? Why did you have to go away for ‘special’ training? Why did you for some reason not tell them that I could do magic just like you?

I’ve looked up the supposed special training and I’ve found it lacking really, I mean yea it covers all the basics and they obviously left some stuff out for security sake but for god's sake it doesn’t even look like it factors in using other people's notes or theories into your own work. Heck ninety percent of it is just you dealing with controlling your inner power which is really stupid way to call a person’s Spark.

The charge in the air is gone now.

Though comparing my Spark to Stiles’s Spark is a bit of a misleading comparison. He could do so many amazing things while I ended up only being good for small time stuff. I mean yea I can make a mean remedy or work out a cool potion but all of that falls short when Stiles could throw fireballs like they were nothing.

I mean back then I could barely warm a cup of water, never mind summoning a fireball like he could. It’s probably why they missed me back then. Their attention was drawn towards the miracle that was Stiles and away from me.

Even now after so much effort and work I can’t really summon fireballs all that well. I’ve been more for the theoretical and backward workings of magic I guess. Though that hasn’t stopped me from trying to get at least as good as eight year old Stiles was at fireball creation.

I can solidly say that I’m about that good.

For a while I was angry about that, I wanted to be just as good as Stiles so I could get him back. Edgy nine year old me went and tried to plan a strategy to free my best friend and wreck the place where they were keeping him on the way out.

I never really made any headway on that plan, not through lack of effort by the way. I kinda just forced myself to stop trying to think of a plan when I realized that Stiles was probably happy without me.

That thought hurt a lot when it hit me.

Sometimes I wish I didn’t have a near perfect memory. That I couldn’t remember us playing together, that I couldn’t remember the joy I felt when I was with him playing with forces that most wouldn’t ever have a hand in. Sometimes I wish that he could just fade into the back of my head.

While I was researching what Stiles and I were and all the things that came with I discovered that I was about above average for a Spark. Pretty good but when they have been people who have fueled grand summoning rituals in an hour or who have literally created mini meteors. Well, I’m just a very shiny ruby compared to a diamond.

We’re rare, like even more rare than kitsunes and banshees rare. While those things are at least passed down through a bloodline to some degree, kitsunes get a bit weird every now and then and jump past descendants and our resident banshee has already expressed her frustration about her ‘coming to age’, Sparks on the other hand are totally random.

From what I have read only like a handful are born every generation from totally random people in the world. And most of the time they are not even recognizable as Sparks. Every now and then though even more rarely than someone to actually be a Spark a person would be born even greater than the greatest. Which is just a pretentious way to say that Sparks come in all different sizes.

Stiles is probably going to be one of the greatest ones.

I couldn’t feel the warm allure of sleep right now, the tension in my body was an ever present overbearing feeling that was keeping me from sleeping.

I looked out the window and saw the moon, not full but extremely close, hanging above me, white glow shining on me. My claws were still out and my teeth were as sharp as ever and I couldn’t feel one bit tired. I’m not going to be able to get any sleep, am I?

“God damn it.”

I forced myself up, trying not to accidentally scratch my bed sheets in the process. If I can’t go to bed then I can at least make myself useful.

While hiding the fact that I’m a werewolf is not illegal per say, there hasn’t been a alpha stationed here for years so it’s not like I’m invading their territory and I’d like to see the alpha who mauled me sign up for ownership of the area, its just very frowned upon to hide the fact that you moonlight as a murder machine.

I mean me hiding the fact I am a Spark is actually illegal though it’s more of a you have to pay a fine offensive then one that will get a person jail time thankfully, at least it’s illegal as long as I’m not a legally an adult, so if I get revealed to be sometime more then the kid who plays with herbs and plants I could lean into the werewolf angle.

So if I’m going to hide my werewolfess I have to be able to hide my scent. Thank god I actually have some ironed out ideas for this and not a bunch of theories that I recklessly powered through in a mad panic.

I’m a bit annoyed that my earlier action backfired but there could be worse things I guess, so upside is there.

Though really a lot of supernatural creatures are awful to be, I mean who would want to be a kanima for instance? At least if you are going to be a murder machine, be one that isn’t a bdsm pet and looks like a lizard that came out wrong.

Though admittedly the alpha form of the kanima looks pretty awesome, though that comes with the side effect of killing the host so that kinda cancels out the coolness factor involved.

Super Strength, enhanced senses, biologically superior in almost every way, literally everything about werewolves is awesome and amazing. Their just the little caveats about the bite mostly killing people and the fact that they murder people when the moon comes out, small things you know? But there's a reason why werewolves are the most common supernatural being.

Which reminds me that I got to find a way to deal with that new permanent part of my new life also. I guess holding myself back from punching my classmates isn’t enough. I now have to hold back the desire to rip them apart and feast on their cooling corpse when they start to annoy me, though that is a bit of a lie because werewolves while being murderous aren’t naturally cannibals.

Weird I know.

Because while I have hidden the fact that I’m a Spark I sadly could not hide the fact that I can use magic. Having it being known though is probably a good thing in the grand scheme of things. It gave me enough social power for me to tell people to leave me alone but having the Beacon Hill student population bug me for stuff is frustrating.

The amount of people that ask for curses is depressing to say the least.

I mean for one I have only shown the ability to use herbs, something that I am going to stick to like my life depended on it because if I suddenly show the ability to use sympathetic magic or for god's sake rituals then that is a one way track to being discovered.

It takes years to normally learn a set of magic that a person doesn’t have a talent in. If I started to show the ability to use multiple forms of magic I might as well be wearing a big red sign that says ‘This kid is a Spark’.

And the attention I got from the adults made the situation a bit less nice, having adults look at you and say you were a special student who would grow up to do amazing things is just weird. I mean I was eleven and they were talking like I was going to reinvent the wheel.

I mean this might be ignorance on their part but the level of power I’ve shown off is around the lowest of the low for magic strength. Being able to combine plants together and get a magical output isn’t rocket science when compared to some rune designs and the step by step guide shown with rituals along with them.

The fact that most of them leave out very critical steps annoy me a lot because that means I have to figure out what they left out after days of painstaking testing to figure out what is missing.

I shook my head and brought my head back on track.

One of the two big problems I am going to be dealing with as a werewolf, let's ignore the Alpha for now, is that I am going to have to hide my newest status and I am going to have to deal with the drawbacks that come with being a werewolf.

The first one oddly enough is much more difficult to deal with than the later one. One would expect the not murdering part of the equation to be a bigger deal than anything else right?

One of the big pop culture things that were hammered into people's head were anchors, and weirdly enough hollywood did actually get it right this time even if they ignore anchors that were not people, so all I have to do is find something that is an intrinsic part of myself that makes me feel human.

I’m tempted to try and use Stiles but that would probably nullify every single movement I’ve made to get over him so that’s a hard pass. If I don’t want to use him I guess I could go for magic.

It’s been a thing that I’ve basically done for my whole life, something that I’ve obsessed over in my rough periods, something that has defined me in a way.

I stared at my hands, a set of keratin claws that are sharp enough to cut steel.

I took a deep breath and focused on the feeling of discovery, of inventing something that only I know, of working my way through a tough problem and finishing with shining gold stars.

I felt my claws disappear.

Okay that's one of my issues done for now I just have to deal with the other side of this problem.

My claws shot right back up.

That is probably to be expected. Expecting to be able to control my wolfy self completely from day one would be kinda stupid even so its going to be annoying having to deal with this new part of myself.

Puberty was enough of a problem, I don’t need to go through a second form of that event. Though I can’t really decide if wrecking my room vea Spark power from nightmares or dealing with a set of sharp claws is going to be worse in comparison.

It feels weird to think that I have an anchor. It’s just something that I always rolled my eyes at in annoyance or scoffed at because it was a boring cheap trope. If my anchor was some innocent brown haired girl that held the personality of a cardboard box and everybody could put their feelings into, I would be just like every single werewolf romance novel ever.

I let out a tiny laugh before letting out a tired sigh.

Just another thing I’m going to have to hide from my mom. She could barely deal with me having magic after what happened to Stiles, so telling her that I was a Spark was a no go so me being a werewolf is just going to be another thing that I’ll hide from her.

I looked around my room for the thing that would probably solve the next part of my problem.

While the whole murder thing with lycanthorpy isn’t a hundred percent solve I got the answer and the only issue is the method so once I get the hang of it that whole issue is done for. So let's deal with the second issue I have.

The answer for the second part of this problem is going to be a little bit more complicated. Trying to hide the fact that I’m a werewolf now is going to be a pretty difficult thing to do, especially with the fact that shifters go to my school.

No werewolves thankfully but there is a coyote and I think a jaguar, though that might be me projecting, and both shifters have good enough sniffers to be able to out me on the spot so I have to find a way to hide my scent. The easy way would be to have a wolfsbane cologne but with wolfsbane being harmful to me as it is to them so I can’t really use that.

Also wearing poison perfume sounds like it would probably break some rules somewhere.

There are also the issues of it slowly poisoning me even if I didn’t now have a racial weakness to it. It kinda sucks that I won’t be able to play with wolfsbane as liberal as I've been, the stuff is a really useful herb for stuff other than killing people.

So I have to go for a more magical solution.

I sat on my bed and got my computer out and started to search for reference materials to use, focusing on my anchor to make sure that my set of claws didn't scratch my keyboard.

Found an interesting idea someone had of replacing someone's scent with that of a plant which would have worked pretty well for me. Though there were a couple issues I found with their formula but by the looks of it they were just holding back a common step found in many other rituals. Though by the looks of it the idea they had is based on an old druid ritual so I might just go and see if that might be better.

After that I went and tacked on a basic ritual component to the imagined process. Nothing fancy, just a thing that would transfer the scent covering ability to an item of my choice instead of a piece of wood or person.

I’ll have to check my notes for this but I think I got a pretty good idea on what I’m going to be doing.

Things might be different, my life plans might have been turned on their head but I still have control. I can still follow the same life goal.

I’m going to live how I want to live.

--- Unknown Wolf --- (Stiles Stilinski)

My handler and I were located on a street corner. My old house was in front of us.

I took a glance at her. A short woman, hair a rich blonde and standing a respectful distance away from me. She looked nervous.

She better be nervous because the last three of my handlers were fired for screwing up their job. How a person can screw up such a simple job as following me around and doing what I said confuses me to a large degree.

“What did they say?” I asked, starting to walk forward to my house. It looked just the same after so long. The same front porch, the same awful coloring, I could see the window of my room that I barely could remember.

It was nice compared to the forced calmness of the Center. Though anything would be better than the same shades of gross green and baby blue, the overwhelming scent of burning plants, and the god awful music that is forced into my head in order to create a more calming environment.

Most of their efforts have the opposite effect on me and most of the other residents there really. I have to wonder why they even still use them.

“You will be assisting in taking down whoever murdered the Alpha Laura Hill.”

Expected but not unwelcome. This was probably a reward in some backwards way done by the so called High Druids as a gift for me being such a good student.

I let out a loud huff before sending my handler off. I don’t want to deal with someone following me around like I’m going to go off and set a house on fire right when they aren't paying attention to me.

I’m one of the top students, I better be with what I am, and while I’m limited in my scope of abilities I more than make up for it in pure power.

The memories of the first time I ever let myself loose, the time when the center locked me up in a room filled to the brim with fire repellent and every manner of mind numbing runes I still almost melted my way out of the place. By the time I tired myself out I melted almost a full meter of cold iron.

It felt good on some short level but afterwards I just felt empty, the whole letting out my frustration thing that they were trying out wasn’t really worth it to me.

They don’t have to worry about me going around on a pyromania filled rage trip, I like to think I have a decent level of control over myself to not let my sanity go out and under.

I conjured a small flame and watched it dance across my palm as I approached my old home. I could almost feel the faint memories of this place coming to the surface of my mind as I got closer and closer to the front door.

The thing that killed the Alpha, which leaves a lot more suspects than one might think because while Alphas are strong they can still be killed if taken by surprise, might be the official assassinment but I can see the real reason why I’m here. I can see the hidden target that they probably didn’t put on the documents detailing why I’m here.

Because whoever killed Laura, I’m tempted to think that an omega killed her but why the hell would they go through this pathway when they could have publicly challenged her, is dangerous. I am much more scary than them. The hidden target on the other hand is someone I can’t just beat into submission.

A group of sadist killers and terrorists who travel hidden throughout the country and the world, killing in their racist agenda. They are one of the many groups that follow this agenda and all of them go by the same call sign.

Hunters.

I might enjoy being with my dad for just a bit but I am most definitely going to make sure that the Argents don’t go and commit another brutal massacre that ruins everybody involved in the whole mess.

Nobody wants another Alpha pack.

I extinguished the flame and with deep breaths I knocked on the front door.

I could almost remember playing with someone here, if I remember correctly I was showing off my Spark to them while they tried to do the same with me, tried to do the same magic that they will never get the chance to do. I wonder where they are? Not really important right now either way.

A man opened the door, my dad.

He looked so different, older and more tired. He looked sadder mostly.

I can understand why he’s like this, I know what it must look like with what happened to me. They make sure to tell us the fact that we aren't going to have perfect lives, that power comes with the side effects of making us lose chances others have.

Me being a Spark I even had less of a chance than others. One wrong move, one moment of childish anger and I could have sent the whole neighborhood into an inferno and burnt everybody there alive.

In a single moment, a single choice, a single action and I could kill hundreds.

It was the smart, practically, and the most definitely safe thing to do in that situation and for many others. Doesn’t stop it from feeling wrong on some moral level though.

“Your John Stilinski?” I asked menntally preparing the speech I practice in my head.

“Yes I’m the Sheriff.”

Not what I asked but okay.

“I’m Stiles Stilinski you son.” I forced my best smile and held out my hand.

He paused, staring at me, his eyes wide and mouth slightly open before falling on his back and passing out.

Did he just pass out? That has to be a first for the history books. That most definitely didn’t go to plan, I mean I had this whole mental script I was going to be going through and now all that thinking is useless.

What the hell am I supposed to do now?

I started at the now passed out body of my dad. Maybe I should move him inside?

I couldn’t lift him so I ended up dragging and hefting him on the couch in the main room. The house seems familiar in a hazy way. It feels nice in a way.

Leaving the passed out form of my dad I explored the house. Every now and then I’d get a flashback of an old moment.

That time I tripped and scraped my knee after falling down the stairs, kid I forgot the name of rushing to my side and rubbing something on me to make me feel better.

Me and my Dad watched fireworks as they went off in the sky, a mystery kid sneaking some gunpowder into his pockets for unknown reasons.

Mystery kid and I under a blanket fort whispering to each other, telling stories, making up grand tales of how we would be heroes and great victors. Classic Spark Megalomania.

I have to figure out who the hell that kid is.

I stared at my own room.

The bed was perfectly neat, not a rumble or crease on it. Everything was stacked up and it all looked like it hadn't been touched in years. It was very unnerving in a very mundane way. Not in the esoteric way of what the fail rituals of Darachs, the mutilated corpse of them and their victims that are left behind, nor the writings that we were given the detailed the insanity that could creep in on people as they delve to deep into the nature of magic.

It was very mundane to say the least, I have the tiniest feeling that this room has been like this for almost six years probably.

I let out a small sigh.

Another sob story, even me being a powerhouse in all intents and purposes that can’t protect you from your tragic past.

I noticed a picture frame.

It was a younger me sitting next to a brown haired kid. The both of us were smiling, we looked like we were having the time of our lives.

‘Stiles and Scott, the Best Heroes there ever were!’

So that’s who the mystery kid was. Maybe I’ll go and see them later if I have some free time. Though that is me being optimistic with an alpha, hunters, and my dad so I might not even get the chance. Doesn’t really matter though.

I’ve got an alpha killer to catch and a job to stop the Argents from creating another monster.

My social life can be held back on till then.

---- Unknown Wolf ---

Figured out what went wrong with the whole curing me of Lycanthropy thing. Ends up it was a translation error that got me in the end. Which is just frustrating, I mean if I wanted to get something wrong make it some unknown scary variable or a whole thought piece on magic, not a translation error.

The set of Dread Doctor notes I got my idea from was translated ‘Pain frees the wolf’. Most of their notes are flowery like this, I actually don’t know if that is just how the words are translated or if they actually write like that.

From how most of the other notes are translated, and yes I made sure that those were actually translated correctly and found that they were which makes the mistake on this person's part even more angry, I have to think it’s the latter option.

Either way I went and re-did all of the shown work and figured out that they got the translation wrong, like really wrong, like so wrong that I was tempted to write a ten page response dissecting just how wrong they were.

I’m allowed to be angry okay because that mistake screwed me over big time.

‘Pain brings the wolf ever closer’

I didn’t free the wolf like I wanted to, I brought it closer to me.

And with me dealing with a new, or at least new to me, set of magic I would normally feel stupidly excited. I’m dealing with something that I’ve never ever encountered before and I would normally be shaking in my shoes just to learn about it.

Except for the little tiny fact that I did it to myself and there can be unforeseen side effects in the future.

I haven’t noticed anything that much different about me compared to what I have that describes the average wolf, I can’t fully shift or anything like that. Heck I don’t even feel that different then before the bite which is weird.

The bite is supposed to install a whole set of new instincts into you and while yes I feel slightly different it’s not anywhere to the degree that it is supposed to be at.

I thumped my head against the locker when I smelled the scent of death and flowers near me. Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out who that is.

A necklace dangled from my neck, a black wool strang with a wooden rune attached to it. What many might not see is the hundreds of runes carved into the wool strand or the fact that wooden runes are actually multiple runes together made from multiple herbs and flowers.

Magic is bull crap like that.

Crushed lavender, rose, and mint grounded together and then shaped into the rune for secret bound to the rune for scent with everything being done under a ritual designed to supplant in the normal rules for my own.

The normal rules for this ritual of druid cultural magic was overlapping someone's scent with herbs or something of that elk, it was mainly used for ceremonies but progression kinda fazed out all of those. The videos of some ceremonies being done were interesting though.

This has one hard rule, it can only apply to a human being so let's break that rule.

The second real ritual I have under this one is going to break the first one and basically change the rules. It's weirdly enough easier to do this than actually rework the druid cultural magic. Though only barely easier.

Then the end result was something that changed my scent into that of a mixed bag of herbs, something that people won’t question with what is already known about me.

I took in a deep breath and glared at Lydia.

Our resident banshee, the Queen of Death of Beacon Hills. Freshman and she's already at the top of the social ladder.

I don’t hate her but I won’t say I like her either, I try to ignore the fact that she's one of the few people that I hang out with. She is amusingly enough a cliche and I’m eighty percent sure that she is that cliche on purpose though which is something I guess.

I mean one time she strongly armed me into going into one of her parties and that was a whole debacle. I had fun sure, like way more fun than I expected but I got grounded right after wards by mom for going to a in her words “Party full of hooligans and idiots”

What most of the people at that party didn’t know though was when I got you drunk, because I was a lightweight, I raided Lydia’s pantry and put together a special remedy which I then added to the punch Lydia was passing around. She didn’t even bat an eye lash as I dumped the crushed herbs into the mixture.

Yea, I’m thankful everybody was drunk out of their minds so they could remember the fact that I can create a super beer with no hangovers involved afterwards. Thank God for that.

Haven’t touched alcohol since then.

“Allison, this is Scott.” Lydia said, drawing me out of my thoughts and making me finally notice the girl standing next to her.

I looked at the brown haired girl in front of me, weird that Lydia is cherry picking the new girl here. Though she definitely fits Lydia's type of choice. Beautiful, a hint of danger that makes my hairs stand for some reason, and nice.

She gave me a smile.

“I’m Allison may.”

She smells like wolfsbane.

I frowned.

I’m tempted to ask why she smells like a class C poison but I held back on it. I think I might be able to pull the whole I work with plants thing if someone asks how I know but I can’t risk anybody calling my bluff if they don’t believe me.

“Scott here.” Lydia gave her patented smile that made boys cower, in fear or love is up to be decided “Is our resident witch.”

“What do you want Lydia?” I asked.

She would go and talk to me unless she wants something from me and while trying to use this girl as a front is creative it’s not really needed. It kinda annoys me actually.

I could feel tension in my body grow just a bit before being pushed down by the calming thoughts of my anchor. I shouldn’t be dealing with this crap right now.

Now I’m feeling the werewolf instincts, fantastic.

“I’m hosting a party on the full moon and you're invited to it.” She gave me a knowing look.

“Why are you hosting it then?” I tiled my head in confusion.

Why would she do that? That literally asking for trouble to come knocking on your door, and that is without the now known murder alpha going around.

Seeing on the news that the police discovered the hacked up body of an Alpha. The Alpha that was killed by whoever bit me was a bit startling to say the least. At least the authorities are going to be dealing with them, heck they might send a professional to deal with them and I would love to ask them a few questions.

While I subscribe to the technique of self teaching I would love to talk to someone who has had magic taught to them from a mentor. It could be either an eye opening experience or disappointing. Angry me hopes it later while the knowledge hungry part of me hopes it is the former.

“Can’t go, not sorry.” I shrugged and moved to go away before an arm shot grabbed my arm holding it in place. If I was a base human again I would be bruising from her grip.

Banshees get a surprising amount of a strength boost that most people don’t expect, they’re not as strong as wolves of course but they are strong enough.

“That wasn’t a request Scott.” I could hear her voice echo, people were hurriedly moving away from the two of us and I could see Allison step backwards with silent quick steps that were almost cat like.

I could feel my instincts rage, the act of dominance not sitting one bit well with the wolf part of me. The wolf in me wanted to shift my teeth, lean over her neck and bite. Not enough to cut her but enough that the threat was there.

Tension rose even higher as I felt the air grow charged.

I don’t even have control over my Spark anymore, god I should have just skipped school today and spent the time practicing with my anchor. That would have been the smart thing to do but no, I can’t disappoint my mom.

I tried to calm myself down but that all failed at the challenging look Lydia was giving me. She wanted me to submit to her and just go along with whatever plan she thought up.

I barely resisted the urge to grab her arm and show her that her grip was nothing, I instead grabbed her hand in a forceful light grip and pulled it off my arm in a harsh motion.

Holding her arm in front of her I said “I can’t come Lydia.” Each word was forced out painfully on my part. My teeth were starting to ache from the strain of pushing down the shift.

I released her arm and watched as Lydia pulled it back all the while giving me a light glare, she wasn’t angry though. She is probably more annoyed than anything else about me not going along with whatever plan she had going.

I felt my pulse go back to a manageable rate as I left the two of them.

Okay Lycanthropy is having a bigger effect on me than I realized. Instead of getting violent urges to kill I get dominance issues, not common but I do vaguely remember reading some examples from this.

Not the worst thing I could get from lycanthropy, heck it might be the best thing debatable.

The thing is though that set of instincts only come in with omegas, lone wolves who do not want a pack but I do want a pack. That doesn’t mean I want an alpha, god no the moment I want that is the moment I reveal the fact I’m a Spark, I just want to be with people.

Lonely me wanting to be with people, how funny.

I would have loved to come to the party too, it would really be fun and I like doing stuff like that or at least experiencing it second hand. It’s on the full moon though so I got to drug myself up on so much wolfsbane and sleeping remedies that I can’t even function, never mind wolf out.

If I wanted to push my luck I could maybe catch the beginning of the party but I would end up running back home just as the full moon is coming up and while I’m not murderous now then might be a whole different deal under the gaze of the full moon.

There's a reason why people like knowing if there are werewolves in town, while werecoyotes and other shifters do go through the same experience as werewolves. it’s at a much lower level of intensity in comparison.

I entered the classroom, the conversation stopping before continuing on as I sat in my spot.

I felt my teeth clench at the additude the teacher was giving everyone, the attempt at authority he is trying to give off annoying the heck out of me. Werewolf issues are going to be a bigger problem than I thought, big enough that I might have to call in sick for a day for sure.

“Now here is the syllabus, if you’ll check on Friday there is a pop quiz, Hint.”

The teacher isn’t even giving off a hostile attitude, if anything he’s trying to be friendly which makes my automatic anger even more off putting off a response. If this gets any worse somebody trying to shake my hand roughly will end up sending me into a dominance rage.

I forced my hand into my pocket when I felt my claws start to grow, barely being able to force myself to calm down.

The teacher was interrupted with whatever he was going to say as the principal came in, a familiar brown hair girl coming in behind him.

I forced myself to ignore the both of them and I barely kept myself calm and resisted the urge to glare at the girl as she sat behind me, the scent of wolfsbane heavy on her.

I thought I was going to be able to handle myself at school. I mean school can be pretty rough but I’ve dealt with this before so I can deal with a bit more.

I’ve been dealing with guys who don’t shower, girls who gossip about the most annoying crap, and right now I don’t want to spend an hour with the painful scent of wolfsbane in my nose.

My body twisting I glared at the girl behind me “Can you please wash the wolfsbane off of you.” I seethed out.

The cold sweat that came after I said that was ignored as I already prepared myself for questioning on how I know what she smells like so well. She didn’t say anything though just stared at me with wide unblinking eyes, her heart beating at a rapid pace.

The movements the teacher made, looking just as uncomfortable as Allison was, sent her moving out of the room and probably towards the bathroom to wash the goddamn scent of herself.

I lost control. I’m most definitely not going to that party.

The atmosphere of the room was thick as the teacher tried to salvage the situation and keep on going through the introductory period of class.

I let out a silent sigh.

School’s going to be rough.

--- Unknown Wolf ---

I was in the middle of the forest.

After getting home from school and spending some time trying to get in the habit of controlling my new wolf instincts, it isn’t going well. I decided to go to bed when the clock struck midnight. Last time I stayed up all night I almost set my house on fire when I was mixing some herbs.

It was kinda concerning that when I woke up I was covered in animal blood, like my arms and torso were drenched in the stuff. Not my face oddly enough.

Why did I go feral, how did I go feral? This doesn’t happen for werewolves, sure they have their moments but that is when they are conscious or at least semi conscious. They don’t go on pseudo sleep walking adventures in the middle of the night and go and murder a animal.

Thank god I only attacked an animal and not a human.

Am I going to have to drug myself every night and just not full moons like I was planning too? Because if I do I might throw a bit of a fit, getting a remedy that works on me now with my wolfness is taxing my supply of herbs and I don’t think I could handle more than three days in a row of drugging myself before going into a rage.

The stuff has the tiny side effect of making it so that when you sleep you're actually not asleep.

The rushing sounds of a river was basically ecstasy to me and even more so as I cleaned the blood off of me. The red stains wash away with some painful scrubbing.

At least I didn’t go and do anything stupid while feral, I mean hunting animals is illegal with out a lisense but hey I’m pretty sure werewolves are the exception to that rule.

I ended up using my nose to reverse track where the hell I was doing while I was feral. It took a few tries because obviously feral me is just as paranoid as normal me and had left a lot of dead ends for trackers, though why they would be tracking a set of non descript herbs is unknown to me. I mean I don’t have a normal scent with this necklace on me so why would they be after that trail at all? I eventually found where I spent most of my time while feral.

A deer corpse, torn up and ripped apart with runes being brutally carved into the skin and flesh. Its bones that were ripped out of it were stabbed into the ground at random intervals. Blood was everywhere, drawn onto the ground and trees. Its scent hung heavy in the forest and all I could do was stare blankly at what feral me did, at what feral me has done.

To others it would probably be a harrowing scent, a scene that would remind many of them of the Events of Dorset Street but not me. To me it looked amazing. I could barely wrap my head around what the heck it was.

Moving forward while making sure not to step onto any of the drawn runes on the gourd. The scent of blood and decaying flesh was even stronger here but I could tell that it wasn’t decomposing at the rate it should be.

The scent wasn’t even spreading past this area I realized. Whatever I did it was breaking rules, lots of them probably by the state of things around me.

The now familiar charge was present in the air around me.

From what I can tell this was a sacrifice, a saferfice of some sort. I can’t tell if it was a blood, life, or action sacrifice though. I’m tempted to say that it can’t be the first one with how much blood is being left around not sacrificed and the second one can also be taken out with the target being an animal and not a human.

While you life sacrifice animals it takes a specific ritual format which this definitely does not have.

So that leaves an action sacrifice.

I kenneled down and started tracing a second of the ritual, blood smearing on my hand as I moved through the runes one by one. This is going to be a mess to clean up.

By the looks of it my idea of it being an action sacrifice was correct and if I’m reading this right it’s a sacrifice of emotion. I can’t tell what emotion it is though, I’m dealing with runes unfamiliar to myself that I somehow carved while feral.

Which puts into question how feral me knew how to carve something like that when I don’t even know how to. Maybe it was using a subvoice level of knowledge? That seems wrong though because I would remember a rune like this, any of them actually.

Some of the stuff I’m seeing right here would have sped up much of my testing, who am I kidding? I would have still tested it just to see how it works for some of my experiments.

I traced over a specific rune though, one that was causing me a lot of worries at the moment.

Primal Instinct.

Lycanthropy is weird even more so than ever other supernatural creatures. They are common for a reason, they passed down through heritage but it also comes through a bite from an alpha. That's unique, no other supernatural creature has that ability to pass on its features onto another living being.

Though it is possible to shift the heritage or mess with someone's supernatural heritage but that is with the tiny asterisk that the only living people who have done that are the Dread Doctors and they're not going to be sharing their methods anytime soon.

Back on topic, it is accepted that shifters for coyotes and kitsunes and basically ever shifters like them are sentient. To what degree is hotly debated of course.

Kitsune’s and Kanima’s are both sentient to almost and maybe even to a human level. Hellhounds, one of the few things that could give a Spark for their rarity by the way, are weird. They hold the same intelligence as kitsunes but just don’t do anything that doesn’t revolve around whatever they are guarding.

Coyotes on the other hand are not that intelligent, like they may actually be less intelligent than a normal coyote which while funny is kinda sad at the same time.

That brings us to werewolves. The fact that a person can get bitten by an Alpha and become a werewolf made a lot of people think that werewolves don’t have other halves like most shifters. It makes some sense, they're just way different, stronger, more entwined with their instincts to a certain degree.

I actually subscribed to this theory but if what I am reading is true then I was wrong, very wrong.

Primal instinct.

The idea of a rune that was being thrown around on a forum page. It was an interesting thought piece but I didn’t pay that much mind to it besides memorizing it in case I found a use for the thing.

This alone wouldn’t have brought any dread, no it would have been worrying but the things that came along with this rune made everything worse.

Primal instinct. Mind. Duality. Strengthen. Connecton.

The only Runes that I recognize, I would normally use them for combining different rituals together. Bring both solutions, and that is what a ritual is a solution to a problem, to equal standing, connect them and then strengthen connection locking them into place.

I’m leaving out the hundreds of light tiny details though.

Feral me, or should I be saying wolf me, went and used this sacrifice to strengthen our connection to each other. He probably did what I did from my stupid mistake on a whole another scale.

Which also gives me the answer to what level my wolf’s sentience is, very high.

How the thing somehow knew runes I didn’t know is going to be bugging me for a while but I can pin that question for later. Now I have to try and figure out the rest of this thing.

There has always been this concept of delving too deep, of going mad from learning too much, of touching what should not be touched. I understood the idea but avoided the topic because people use it as a starting point for banning a part of, or even all of it if they're radical enough, magic. They never go anywhere but they still try, which is enough for me to avoid those people and find them utterly dreadful.

Though that might be the Spark in me talking.

I couldn’t bring myself to care about the fact that I was going to be missing most of the day. What I am doing right now is probably much more productive than anything I would have been doing anyways.

It wasn’t morning anymore, if the blaring sun on my back was telling me anything it was near midday. A whole day spent mindlessly studying and trying to decipher what the heck these runes meant, maybe those people were right about the whole madness thing.

It’s not like I can bring myself to care that much.

I did let myself go back home, change out of my sleep wear into something more manageable, and headed right back, a notebook in hand. It’s easier to think if I have something to write my thoughts on.

‘Squiggly line + circle = intent rune?’

Of course I can’t actually draw the runes in my notebook unless I want to destroy the thing. I made that mistake once and I almost lost a finger from it. Word of wisdom overloading a ritual with too much power is really easy if you cram enough runes to blow up a car in a notebook.

My phone started to vibrate right as I started to go through another rune.

I frowned.

Who the heck is calling right now? I mean who has my phone number because I'm pretty sure only my mom and the school have my phone number and the both of them shouldn’t be calling me right now.

I took my phone out and answered it.

“Scott, why are you not at school!?”

“Oh yea.”

“Oh yea!?” My Mom yelled back.

Totally forgot that I had school today. I’d probably have still skipped it for some torn up deer studying.

“I’m in the middle of something mom.” I whispered back, she should understand this right. I mean she knows that I know a lot more magic than just herbs.

“Scott, we agreed on you putting your studies ahead of this hobby.”

The fact she calls magic a freaking hobby is absurd.

“That hobby is going to be my career Mom.” I growled out, the wolf leaking out nearing the end of the sentence.

I’m dealing with a set of new instincts, I’m literally dealing with an entity that is attached to me and is doing something unknown with our connection. It at least seems to just want to just strengthen our connection together but what after that? At least it seems to want us to be equals.

I’m trying to ignore the fact that I was about to kill someone, even if unknowingly, when I tried to cure myself yesterday.

“And if I remember, I didn't agree to anything.” I felt my phone start to crack under the pressure of my grip.

Mom was probably one minute from becoming mute and giving me quiet treatment for a few days before grounding me out of nowhere. I could feel the wolf part of me start to rise at the utter gall of someone so much weaker than me trying to maintain authority over me.

A few quick breaths and thoughts of my anchor calmed me down.

“I just forgot about school today, I’ll catch the last bit okay.” I murmured before hanging up, not letting my mom say anything.

I stared at the body below me.

I really don’t want to leave right now, I want to be able to finish cataloguing every single rune on it. I want to study the logic that is hidden between the lines and carvings of the ritual in front of me.

At least I was able to learn some stuff and was able to conform to the idea of my other half, because that is also now most definitely a hundred percent, was trying to not only strengthen our connection but make it more durable.

Guess it didn’t like the idea of me trying to remove it. That feels bad not going to lie.

I grabbed my notebook and ripped out a piece of paper which was used to copy the last rune directly, line by line. The whole overloud thing I don’t have to worry about with it being separated from the main notebook.

It’s not going to be the same though, studying an actual real example was an experience.

The internet would probably now classify me as a sacrificial scholar now. While I probably can’t understand everything happening right in front of me I can at least copy it rune by rune and hope for the best.

Not the smartest thing to do but I could do it if I wanted to.

“I have to visit that river again.” I muttered looking at my blood stained hands.

Before I do that though I have to deal with the evidence of my wolf's ritual. This part is going to sucks because this is literal with its weight in gold to me. I mean I now have an idea of a sacrificial battery to empower rituals making them even stronger than they could have been at their base level, something that I’ve never had the chance of finding an incline of on any forum or journal I’ve read.

Ends up people don’t like it when people start building formulas that rely on human or animal sacrifices. It’s too dangerous they say, it’s morally wrong they state, we have better methods for improving rituals they argue.

On face level I agree with them but that still didn’t stop me from wanting to know how it's done. I mean it is such an easy and powerful power source, one that I could have used to great success I mean.

The only reason people are scared of blood sacrifice is because a group of idiots, a group of wannabe darachs, decided that they were going to become pseudo Sparks and fight every one. They were basically idiots and insane but they were idiots with magic so them succeeding in the first step of their goal wasn’t impossible.

I’ve said there are three types of sacrifice a person could do life, blood, and action. The most powerful, not the best mind you, rituals use all three types at the same time. They killed tens of people, went into their houses and murdered everybody, drained their blood, and desecrated their bodies all for their ritual.

But they were idiots and the ritual they built failed them. They couldn’t even create a simple feedback loop that would empower them. They murdered families for nothing.

The story was used as reasoning to censor all of the branches of sacrificial magic and cross their fingers and hope it died out. They didn’t ban it out right but they might as well with all the measures that were taken against it.

Even the druid counsel went back and forth on their decision, even with their history of sacrifices, and started to help people on their crusade.

The thing was that sacrifice can be used in non lethal ways, blood and action. Life is the only one that could be probably argued to be banned.

Nobody likes the idea of human sacrifices but a person could maybe argue animal sacrifices if the ritual they were trying to empower was important enough.

Either way blood and action are both ways that could be used safely, Action specifies.

Hunt.

Figured out what was the thing fueling the ritual my wolf created, hunting. The act of tracking, chasing, and ripping into prey. Not the most pleasant action that could be used as prey but it seems very effective on the power scale.

The thing that happened then was a tragedy but I don’t think it was a worthy enough event to censor a whole section of knowledge.

I let out a sigh.

Though sadly most people who share the same option with me are idiots or social outcasts who think their edginess is cool so I’m probably going to keep my knowledge close to my chest.

At least I have a better idea for a golem power source now because before I was trying to use a concentrated flame explosion, that ended as well as a person would expect. That was almost as bad of an experience as setting my foot on fire.

I stared at the ritual in front of me before raising my hand and summening my Spark.

The air grew even more charged than before.

Fire, a tiny bulb of yellow flame that was condensing and being looped in on itself. The pattern repeated over and over for almost a full ten minute, all the while I was sweating as I tried to keep the flame under my control.

I wish this was just a little less painful to do. Trying to create and bind a fire at the same time is incredibly difficult and mentally taxing to do. It sucks that this is easier than trying to summon the amount of resulting flame at once.

I stepped backwards and used my other hand to force my other hand towards the deer corpse.

I really wish I didn’t have to do this but I can’t let them have any idea of me being here.

“Sorry deer.” I murmured.

I released the built up flame and watched as the area in front of me was set aflame and instantly incinerated turning to a fine ash. I extinguished the flames with a mental wave as the flames started to spread.

I’m probably nowhere near you Stiles but I like to think I’m getting close to you dude.