Chapter Text
The spell hits him in the chest, and dimly, he is aware that someone is screaming. Everything slowly starts to fade as he falls to his knees. The ritual knife that's been pressed to his throat moves and he hunches over, gasping.
'Stiles! Stiles!'
Stiles groans and clutches at his chest inside the circle of mountain ash, the stupid circle that is now keeping his friends from reaching him, why is he friends with werewolves, why...
The witch (druid? Thing? She'd said her name once, he thinks) grabs his hair, yanking it with such force that he cries out, holding him upright. 'Jennifer Blake was my sister.'
'Sorry about your childhood.' Stiles gasps out, and there's a funny ringing in his ears when the witch backhands him. He never really learned when he needed to keep his mouth shut, did he?
'Stop! Stop, leave him alone!' Scott's voice rings out desperately. 'We know she was your sister, we know! But it wasn't us, it was an Alpha Pack-'
'And I found her with her throat ripped out, slumped against an old stump like a discarded doll-' The witch continued on, talking over Scott. In the corner of Stiles' eyes he can see blue lines rippling out as Scott fought against the mountain ash barrier. 'I had to bury her by those stupid roots because she'd started to rot-'
There's another spell and he feels like his head is on fire. He can't see, everything is becoming frighteningly hazy, and all he can think of his how he got into this stupid situation.
-
'Are you sure?'
'Look, Scott,' Stiles runs a hand through his hair, frustrated at the concern in his best friend's voice. 'The letter was clearly left for me, and unless we meet whoever has been threatening to kill us, they'll actually kill us.'
Scott groans, putting his face in his hands. 'I know, I know.'
'They could've killed us three times already, first at the school, then at Derek's loft at the Pack Meeting, and then this morning in the woods. But they didn't. We've got to figure this out.'
'I don't see why we can't just ignore them.' Lydia's voice is betraying her annoyance. 'I mean, if they were trying to kill us, why haven't they? What's the purpose in all this? Trying to kill us, then just letting everyone go? It doesn't make sense, but as long as they're not doing anyone any harm...' Lydia's face went pinched. 'Never-mind, after this morning there's no way they're as innocent as we first thought.'
'Each time they used mountain ash to keep everyone in. I don't think they were counting on a spark being part of the pack.' Allison says thoughtfully, sending a look over to Stiles, who had gotten them out all three times by breaking the circle. Stiles shrugs, it was just his job. Allison could've done it, and so could Lydia if she were to scream at it, but as a spark, the mountain ash just kind of...did what he wanted.
'Read the note again, Stiles.' Derek growls. But that's okay, because Derek always growls. This one was his 'Why-me' growl. Stiles was proud to say that he was beginning to be able to tell the difference between that one and his 'I'm-going-to-kill-you-slowly; one. Sort of.
Stiles eyes the paper laying on Lydia's fancy coffee table and swallows. The blood that was used to make the letters was still wet. 'Um.. do I have to?'
Derek rolls his eyes and picks up the paper, scanning it as though it hadn't been read over and over since this morning when Stiles found it plastered to his bedroom window. 'Meet at distillery. Midnight. Come alone, and no one else will be hurt.'
Scott's eyes do the thing where he's trying to be angry but he's still just an eighteen year old kid who has found himself in a very scary position. Stiles wraps and arm around his shoulders and wordlessly reassures him. It was natural, something they'd been doing for years. Like when Scott's dad had left and Scott spent all day crying into Stiles' bedsheets. Or when Melissa found out about weres and wouldn't even look her son in the eyes.
'He's not going alone.' Scott says firmly.
Derek rolls his eyes. If he wasn't always such a brooding adult, Stiles could totally hear him saying, 'Well, duh.'
'Obviously not, Scott.' Lydia says, and it's really just her version of 'well, duh', but the two reactions send relief spiraling down Stiles' spine. He already knew his friends, his pack, wouldn't let him get hurt or go by himself, but it was good to hear.
'So... what do we do?' Isaac says from where he's been lounging on the couch, messing about on his phone.
'Stiles goes in first.' Allison said. Everyone turned to listen, because she was the one who planned the best. Scott opened his mouth to say something, but Allison quickly continued, 'And I'll be right behind him. Scott, I want you coming in from behind with Derek and Lydia. Isaac will follow me in.'
Isaac lifted his head from the cushions. 'What about Erica and Boyd?'
Stiles shakes his head. 'No way we're dragging them back from their college tour, not at such short notice. We do have lives, still, and they were the only ones who haven't decided which one to attend yet.'
Derek makes a 'humph' noise and Stiles rolls his eyes. The fact that they'd all actually managed to get into college was a miracle in and of itself, not even counting the fact that it was the same college for everyone except Scott, who was attending a trade school for future veterinarians nearby. Erica and Boyd were still trying to decide between the community college or to go to the same one as everyone else. 'They'll stick near us, Derek, don't be such a sourwolf.'
The term was said fondly now, and Stiles returned the small smile he got from the older werewolf.
'If that's the plan, then we better get a bite to eat before we go.' Lydia said, standing up and brushing off her skirt. 'I know I still have to find excuses to tell my mom about running around with you guys, so I'll get on that. You all hurry home and we'll meet on the road that heads to the distillery at eleven.'
Stiles checked his watch, eyes narrowing as he calculated how much time they had and wondering if he could sneak in a nap. His dad was on the night shift, had been for the past week, but he'd call in and tell him what was going on anyways.
-
'Stiles? Stiles, wake up, please wake up-'
Someone was jostling his shoulder, which, ow, that really hurt. Actually, his whole body hurt. 'Ached,' he thought as he tried to open his eyes. Ached fit better.
'He's awake! Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ-' Scott was too loud, his voice was too loud. Stiles thinks he makes a weird groaning noise and tries to bat his friend away.
'Stiles?' Oh, Deaton's here. Stiles slowly became aware of his surroundings, the cold table beneath him, how cold he was, so his shirt was gone. 'Stiles, can you hear me?'
'Yes.' Stiles says. It comes out sounding more like, 'Yrrgh.'
'Good, good. Scott,' He hears Deaton turn and start talking to Scott, who was obviously standing back a bit to give the vet (and unofficial supernatural patch-er upper) some room. 'Bring the sheriff in here. We need to talk.'
'Feel fine.' Stiles grunts as he tries to sit up. He's surprised that Deaton let him, but he goes to rub his eyes and is startled to realise they're already open. 'Uh... why's it so dark.'
It's suddenly quiet, Scott hasn't moved and Deaton's hand freezes from where it's been poking at Stiles' gut.
'Stiles...' Scott's voice is strained, like he's trying not to panic for Stiles' sake. 'It's not.'
That... that's odd. Because Stiles can't see anything even though he knows his eyes are open. 'Dude...please don't pull that shit on me right now, I'm barely functioning.'
But Deaton has removed his hand and Stiles suddenly flounders because he can't see anything. What was going on, what had happened??
He thought back frantically, remembering bits and pieces. They'd gotten to the distillery, he had heard the draw of Allison's bow behind him and-
And the witch lady had sent blue sparks at his bat, which then clubbed him in his own head (traitor, going to throw it away when he got home), and before he knew it he was inside a circle of mountain ash, a funky knife held to his throat, Allison was yelling for Scott and Isaac was already fighting against the barrier when the witch tightened her grip on the knife and Stiles had- Jesus, he'd squeaked for them to stop moving.
Then the whole story had been revealed, how Cera, the witch, was Jennifer's older sister, how she was here for revenge, how she'd set traps only to have them thwarted because Stiles would use his spark to break the mountain ash she'd used, how she was going to tear them all to pieces one-by-one, and that their stupid spark was going to be the first to go.
Stiles realised his breath was coming too quickly and that there were arms around his, Scott, his mind supplied.
He remembers the spells, how it had ached and burned and how the knife had dug into the small of his back when he tried to shove her away and get to the barrier, remembered how Scott was howling and pounding at the blue magic that separated him from his best friend.
He remembers the last spell and how it'd made his entire head throb and how the world went black.
'Breathe, kid, come on-' And suddenly his dad was there and it, well, it wasn't okay, but it was better and his familiar weight was settled over his shaking shoulders and he could hear Scott arguing with Deaton.
'Dad-' Stiles gasps, fingers scrambling to fist in his father's uniform. 'Dad, I can't see, I can't see-'
'It's okay, son, it's okay, just breathe, we'll figure it all out,' his dad is saying, and Stiles can't handle it anymore, his breath just stops and if everything wasn't black already it would've faded like it always did when he passed out.