Chapter Text
Stiles had lived through a lot of shit. His life had been completely turned upside down the day he decided to go into the woods with Scott and look for half of Laura Hale’s dead body, leading to his best friend being bitten by Peter Hale, the Alpha. But he had lived.
He hadn’t died when Scott had undergone his first ever full moon. He hadn’t died when he, Scott, Lydia, Allison and Jackson had been locked inside the school with Peter Hale. He hadn’t died when Jackson had been bitten and turned into a were lizard- kanima for his friends. He hadn’t died when Gerard Argent had kidnapped him and beat him in the basement of his house. He hadn’t died when he had risked his very human life to protect Derek’s betas and help save Jackson.
He hadn’t died when the human sacrifices began. He hadn’t died when he cheated death to find his father. He hadn’t died when the Nogitsune possessed him.
He had kept on living, kept on breathing. He had been close to death so many times that the he become stupidly reckless and uncaring.
But this? This wasn’t him being incredibly stupid. He had lived in Beacon Hills dodging supernatural mauling and killer trees just to die in a stupid airplane crash.
After all that had happened, he was going to die by human hands.
Stiles woke up in his bed, a silent scream frozen on his lips and beads of sweat on his forehead. He hadn’t got a wink of sleep all night. He couldn’t close his eyes without the image of Allison’s crumbled body on the floor flashing in his mind, the scream that Lydia had let piercing his eardrums, the smell of death and pain flooding his nose. And the pain. The guilt. All neatly wrapped in his heart, a nice departure gift from the Nogitsune.
He was tired. He was so tired of everything. He made his way towards the bathroom and looked his reflection on the mirror. His hair was getting longer and he had been tempted to cut it. But cutting meant being ready to move on, being ready to start on a clean page. He was never going to be ready.
The boy noted the dark circles under his eyes, and the sunken on his cheeks with a detached look. He knew he should be trying at least to sleep, to eat, to function, but… he just couldn’t.
He was still in yesterday’s clothes, and he stripped down to his boxers, before stepping in the shower. The jet of cold water was welcome, refreshing. He stayed for a long time, a blank look on his face, until a knock on the door came.
Scott came in after Stiles announced that it was just him, and the teenager gave a small smile at his best friend. Stiles tried to answer the smile with one of his own, but Scott didn’t notice how faked it was. Scott didn’t notice much, nowadays.
With his newly appointed powers and the still raw pain of losing Allison, he was too wrapped in his own world to notice. Stiles didn’t fault him. He was the cause Allison died, and he knew that everyday their gazes met, Scott couldn’t help but think about her, about her falling down dead in his arms, about the thing wearing Stiles’ face laughing and taunting, stabbing a similar thing right in Scott’s stomach.
“You gonna finish anytime soon? Mum is with Lydia, checking the last details on the dress.” Scott’s voice came through his thoughts, and Stiles startled, before nodding.
“Okay.” His voice came out like a croak, and Scott paused at the door. Stiles pulled the shower curtains closed. Scott left.
It wasn’t like Scott didn’t try. He did try. He was one of the few.
Lydia couldn’t try. She needed a few more weeks at least. She knew it wasn’t his fault. But at the same time, the thing wearing Stiles’ skin had taken her away against her will, had creeped on her, caused the death of her boyfriend and her best friend.
Isaac felt betrayed. He had loved Allison, he truly had. And then she had died- because of Stiles, Stiles, the only person he had felt comfortable enough to share his past with- professing her undying love for Scott. He was grieving too.
Malia and Kira, too new to truly understand the loss the Pack was going through, had stepped back, and the kitsune had promised to look after Malia. She was far better than Stiles, or anyone else could hope to be.
Derek had retreated in himself, trying to console Isaac and keep the Pack from dying from the inside. He also kept Stiles at a distance, not letting him too close in but he hadn’t casted him out. Yet. Stiles knew it was a matter of time before the werewolf did. He had a bag ready under his bed.
His father and Melissa McCall tried to get under his skin, but after being answered by the realest fake smile he could muster and getting sassed, they had stopped trying to get through him. They were getting married.
They had started seeing each other after the whole ordeal that went on at the Police Station back in Stiles’ sophomore year, and got together sometime in between that and being kidnapped by Jennifer Blak- Julia Baccari. And they were getting married soon. In a couple of days.
Stiles blinked at himself, standing in the middle of his bedroom, already wearing his clothes. It happened a lot, him blacking out, in the void of his thoughts, and at the beginning he had been scared the Nogitsune was coming back. Soon enough he had realised that this was just how he coped. Letting his body work in auto pilot while he grieved from the inside, trying to fill in the void and hollowness in his heart, somehow.
His father had already left, and so had Scott, so Stiles found himself slowly making his way towards Derek’s loft. Despite all the deaths and shenanigans that had occurred there, the werewolf still insisted in living there. Stiles wasn’t sure if Peter was with him still, or not.
Once, the thought of not being sure whether Peter Hale was in town or not would have set alarm bells in Stiles’ brain, and he would have tried his hardest to find out what diabolical plan was starting to form in the psychopath’s head. Now, he couldn’t care less.
Derek opened the door even before Stiles could knock, and then disappeared back inside, without a greeting or any other form on acknowledgment. Scott was sitting there, and looked up guiltily when he saw Stiles entering the room. Isaac and Lydia where also there, along with Danny, who had started spend a considerate amount of time with them after he found out about werewolves, Lydia and Jackson; he was Pack now. Stiles wasn’t sure where Ethan was.
Malia was sitting to the side, with Kira next to her. The blonde girl lit up at the sight of him, and Stiles had to force himself not to puke. She didn’t completely understand, of course, what had been happening with the whole being possessed by a demon thing, and still seemed to think of him as one of the good guys. He supposed that in theory, in her mind, he was.
He turned to Derek, who was looking at him carefully from the doorway. “I brought the research for the mare in the lake. I spoke to her, she has no interest in eating anyone’s flesh or drinking any blood. But just in case, here’s how to kill one.” He said, handing him the papers.
Derek didn’t take the. “No one invited you to come, or do any research, Stiles.” The teenager blinked at him. “No one asked you to go and talk to her. You could have been killed.” Pointed out the man, and beneath his façade at emotionless and coldness, Stiles could see the anger building up.
“I was trying to help.” He explained, shrugging.
Derek narrowed his eyes at him. “You are purposefully trying to get yourself killed without it being you doing it.” He said, and the teenager forced himself not to flinch. The man had always had a knack for reading Stiles.
Derek walked until he was right up in Stiles’ personal space, flashing cool blue eyes at him. “Well, not happening on my watch. Leave the bestiary with Lydia. Danny can do the research. Take some time for yourself, Stiles.” He ordered, meaning for it to come commanding, but sounding like a plea in the end.
Stiles studied him carefully. “Are you kicking me out of the Pack?” he asked. His voice came out normal, but inside, he was crumbling. They didn’t see it. They didn’t understand how much he needed them, how much he just wanted one of them to be with him, to make him snap out of it. He hadn’t shed a tear, not one, since the Nogitsune. He hadn’t cried at Allison’s funeral, never shed a tear during his nightmares. Not even his panic attacks made him cry. He needed their help. But they didn’t see him reaching out.
Derek held his gaze. “Yes.” He said simply.
Scott glanced between the two of them. “Derek, now…” started the newly turn Alpha. In theory he could easily tell Derek to shut the fuck up and order Stiles to stay. He could do it. But he wasn’t going to.
Stiles looked at the rest of the people in the room. Lydia wasn’t looking at either of them, looking out of place sitting next to Danny. The other human seemed to pity Stiles, almost as if he wanted to reach out. Scott was biting his lip, unsure of what to say, while Isaac seemed half angry at Derek, half sad that he couldn’t find a way to help Stiles. Kira was trying to act as if she wasn’t aware of what was going on around her, while Malia stared at the, unsure of what was happening.
Then he looked back at Derek. Derek looked as stony as ever. And Stiles nodded. “Okay.”
Derek seemed taken aback. “Okay?” he parroted, frowning. Even Lydia was looking at him, alarmed.
Stiles nodded. “I’ll leave.” He simply said, and Derek seemed at loss of words. He stared at Stiles, as if he wasn’t sure who was standing before him anymore.
Stiles gave him a half smile. He felt the same looking at himself in the mirror every day. He put down the papers in Derek’s hands, and then walked out of the loft, carefully closing the door behind him.
“Beacon Hills Animal Clinic, how can I help you?” answered a voice from his cell phone.
“Dr Deaton.” Stiles was standing in his living room, two bags on the floor in front of him and all his college money secured in his pocket. He was going to take out all his bank money as well. He didn’t know when- and if he- was going to be back.
“Stiles. Is everything alright?” asked the vet.
Stiles could picture him, standing in the animal clinic, a little dog on the table and him holding his phone with a cryptic expression on his face.
“Derek kicked me out of the pack.” He summarised, and he could almost image the vet frowning.
“He did?” asked the man after a few moments.
Stiles nodded absently. “Kind of. I asked him if he was kicking me out and he said yes.” He clarified. “I was wondering if you could give me your contact’s number. I might decide to meet up with him.” He said.
Deaton didn’t comment on it, simply told him to hang on. He had just finished telling Stiles the number when the front door opened. Stiles swore under his breath, as his dad stopped dead in the dining room, where Stiles had left the letter.
“And Stiles?” Deaton’s voice interrupted his internal freak out. “Just… Jesus, stay safe.” Said the doctor, and Stiles was so startled at the emotion in the man’s voice that he didn’t even had time to formulate an answer before the man ended the call.
Stiles made his way to the living room, his stomach a knot. John Stilinski was sitting in a chair, eyes scanning the letter and his face paler than ever. When he saw Stiles, he relaxed for a moment, before taking in Stiles’ bags and all the rest of his stuff. He put down the letter on the table. “Is this some kind of joke?” asked him his father, and Stiles looked down at the paper on the table.
Dear dad,
I’m sorry. I can’t really do this anymore. I need to leave Beacon Hills, and I can’t… I need to leave now. My life isn’t in danger, and I am not being kidnapped. I just don’t think I can cope anymore. I need some time alone.
I am not cutting ties with you. I am just moving. To Australia. I have your number, and Melissa’s and I’ll call you the moment I land.
I am sorry. I love you.
Yours, Stiles.
He looked back up at his dad, and just shook his head. “No. I…”
John Stilinski looked at him pleadingly. “You don’t have to leave. You can take some time off the Pack. I can get someone to talk to you.”
Stiles took a deep breath, forcing himself not to look at his dad, hating that he was the reason his dad looked like he was about to cry. “I left the Pack.” He said, matter of factly.
The Sheriff looked stunned. “Stiles… the wedding. Think about me and Melissa for a change. Your mother wouldn’t want you to do this.” John knew it was a low blow, but was stunned when Stiles barely even reacted.
“My mum is dead.” He said evenly, and the Sheriff stared at him wide eyed. Stiles fixed his backpack and took both bags in his hands. “I am sorry, dad. It has to be this way. I can’t…” he choked on the last word and took a deep breath. “I love you.” He said, and turned towards the door.
“Mieczyslaw Genim Stilinski!” Stiles kept walking, despite hearing his full name for the first time in years. “Exit that door, and you cease being my son.” Said the Sheriff and Stiles stopped in his tracks. The Sheriff didn’t say anything more.
“You don’t mean that.” Said the boy, but his voice seemed unsure.
“The hell I don’t mean it! No son of mine would ever do something like this!” Said the Sheriff.
Stiles gave him a last smile. “I’m sorry. I still love you, dad.” He said in the end, and left the house.
And the Sheriff, inside, crumbled on the floor, angry, angry like he had never been and so goddamn hurt and sad. Stiles drove away.
Stiles had never actually been anywhere outside America. This was his first time flying anywhere farther than Boston, where his mother’s sister lived. He had been about 6 when he went there.
By now, his dad had probably let the news get out of the house. He wondered if his dad was still furious. Was the wedding going to still take place? He hoped they didn’t cancel it for him. He wasn’t worth it, and Melissa and Lydia had worked hard on it. It was supposed to lighten everyone’s mood a little bit after the entire shit show that had been the month of December.
School was going to start soon. People were going to start asking questions, about Allison, and Ethan and Aiden. Boyd and Erica hadn’t been popular, but their disappearance (no one knew they were actually dead) had still shaken the school. Suddenly everyone had a little story, a little nice thing to say about them. People he had never met claimed to be one or the other’s best friend. Stiles had felt physically ill.
Stop it. He chided himself, looking outside. He hadn’t even noticed that the plane had started. Had he fallen asleep? He didn’t think so.
There weren’t many people abroad, so he was a little confused when two little girls sat down next to him.
The first one looked around three or four years old, with startling blue eyes. Her hair was the colour of ebony, high in a small ponytail. Next to her was another girl, probably her twin sister, with a head full of curly dark hair. But what was strange was that both little girls had sat next to him and were staring at him, no parents in sight.
Stiles had always loved little kids, so he gave them a small smile, looking around for their parents. The one who seemed like she might be the more confident one smiled back, dimples showing, while the smaller one curled on herself anxiously.
“Hi! My name is Bianca!” she greeted, leaning in closer to him.
Stiles spotted a man standing up, a little black suitcase in his hands as he walked towards the toilet. He looked away and back to the little girl, who were still gazing intently at him. “Hi, Bianca.” He said, unsure.
She beamed, and leant in closer. “I like your smell.” She confided, and Stiles almost smiled at her. Kids and their sincerity were a small-
He stopped for a moment, and looked back at the girl. Both her and her sister were squeezed in the same seat, and she was leaning in closer to Stiles. He tilted his head closer to her, and held his forehead on hers. “Show me your eyes.” He said.
The girl blinked at him for a second. Then she flashed her golden eyes at him. Stiles moved back away from her, and gave another smile. “I like them.” He told her. Bianca giggled, and this seemed to calm down the other girl.
She touched Stiles’ arm with hers, and looked at him shyly with her big blue eyes. “Pack?” She said earnestly, and Stiles’ smile faltered for a second. Then he nodded slowly at the girl, and she smiled, putting her thumb in her mouth.
Another man, similar dressed as the first one made his way down, as Stiles asked the two girls. “Where are your parents?”
The smaller one, who was slowly but steadily making her way towards Stiles, who pretended not to notice, shrugged, while Bianca just blinked at him. “They are dead.” She said, matter of factly.
“Who came with you, then?” asked the teenager, trying to ignore the little twist in his chest at their answer.
Bianca looked around them, as the other tried to sit on Stiles’ lap without him noticing. He kept looking at Bianca, but moved away his arms to grant her access. He guessed werefolf cubs needed contact. “Well, there were these men that said that we are going to meet our uncles who will look after us.” She explained. “They sat there” she pointed “and told us to sit where we wanted, and you smelt the nicest out of everyone.” She smiled sunnily again.
Stiles felt a little nauseous, as a thought making his way inside his head. He felt a little hand on his neck, and looked down at the blue eyed little girl. She blushed and waved. “Hi.” Stiles found himself actually smiling, the movement almost foreign in his mouth, as he looked down at her. “Hi.”
Bianca, feeling ignored, poked at him. “What is your name, Mister?” she asked, and Stiles almost laughed at her calling him mister.
“Stiles. But that’s my nickname. My real name is very hard to pronounce.”
Bianca’s eyes widened. “Like you!” she said, pointing at her twin. She grinned at Stiles. “Her name is very long, so everyone calls her Anya.” She explained.
Stiles looked at the girl in interest. “Your name is Anastasia?” he guessed and both her and Bianca nodded, giggling a little.
“’S hard to say it, and long.” She explained, and that’s when a voice came from the pilot’s cabin.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We shall be making an unscheduled landing for maintenance check-up, but there is nothing to worry about.” In a voice that suggested the complete opposite. Stiles would know. He had used the same voice many times before.
People started shifting nervously in their seats, and their nervousness was starting to affect Anya. Her eyes flashed gold for a moment, and she hid her face in his collar. Probably the scent of werewolf he carried was calming her a little.
Bianca continued to remain positively disinterested, as she chatted about something to Stiles. The boy knew he should be worried, but he couldn’t work himself to be.
Then the two business men dashed out of the toilets, a look of wild terror on their faces. Drug dealers, Stiles had seen the type before. A deal had gone wrong. They were talking in low voices to each other, but nobody was paying them any care.
He nudged Bianca. “Can you hear what they are saying?” he asked, and the girl nodded, looking bored.
“Money… something about being betra-, betrayed? Fake coca-ine.” She huffed. “A bomb in their bags and fake coca-ine...” she kept dutifully talking, but Stiles had frozen. There was a bomb in their bags.
There was a bomb on the plane. There was no fucking maintenance, the plane was about to fucking explode.
And of course, that was when the first bomb exploded.
The screams of the passengers invaded the plane, as small masks started to fall from the slots in front of them, but Stiles wasn’t hearing them. All he could hear was the screams of terror of students in the school, the roar of the Alpha, Erica and Boyd’s tortured calls, the sound of ripping skin, the cries of everyone in Eichen House and Lydia’s deafening scream.
So this was the end then? He was going to die because a smuggler had decided he didn’t want to sell his cocaine and had tricked some drug dealers and gave them fake drugs and bombs? After all he had been through, he was going to die a human death? He hoped his life wouldn’t flash before his eyes. The actual story had been pathetic; he didn’t really see the trailer again.
And then he heard the sound of a small girl crying and Stiles snapped out of it. Anya was holding on him and somehow both her and Bianca were sitting on Stiles’ lap, holding on him and each other in terror. The smoke had filled the plane, and the lights had started flicking on and off.
Anya was crying, while Bianca was having a full on panic attack. She stared at Stiles, trying and failing to get air in her lungs. Stiles put a hand on her shoulder. “Bianca! Bianca, focus on me, focus on my voice okay? Bianca, can you hear me?” he asked, and she nodded once, gasping for air.
“Count with me. Breathe with me! Anya, you too!” He snatched three masks and placed them first on the two kids and then on himself. He gripped tighter on Bianca’s hand. “ONE! TWO! Bianca, COME ON! THREE.” He started counting, and somehow the girl managed to. She was struggling, but Stiles could see both of them breathing, and he breathed too.
“This is your captain speaking, please keep your seats! We are going to have a rough landing, prepare yourself for the impact.” The panic was clear in his voice.
Stiles heard a few men crying, and a woman reciting the last verses of the Quran. A girl that he knew from Beacon Hills, Kathy Martinez, was passed out in her seat. Another man was in tears. “Jesus, have mercy, I have a family! I have two kids, please…”
But he couldn’t care about either of them. He couldn’t start freaking out, he had to stay strong; if he wavered, then so would Bianca and Anya. He couldn’t have them die. He couldn’t. They would be added to the list of the people he was too late to save, along with his mother and half of his pack.
So Stiles believed. He wasn’t religious, but he begged anything that crossed his mind to have mercy of the two kids. He could see that they were very little above the water, right now. His ears were whistling. Please. He had to save them. He would save them. He could save them. And then the plane plunged front first in the water.
Derek looked at the Sheriff standing with Scott’s mum- his new wife- and felt a strange sense of nostalgia just looking at them. They were really perfect for each other. Scott was standing next to them, still a little teary from his early speech, as he told them how he and Stiles had always known that they should have been together.
“He should have been here. He would have loved the cake.” Said a voice next to him, like she had known what he was thinking about. The red head looked flawless in a designed short white dress. She wasn’t looking at him.
Derek felt a tightness around his throat. He- they all- hadn’t realised how far had Stiles gone. How much he had been going through in his mind. He had wanted to help him. He had meant it when he said that Stiles should stay away from pack business for a while, but when Stiles had agreed… it was almost as if he had been waiting for them to make the decision for him. For them to tell him to go.
They had been the only thing keeping him in Beacon Hills, and Derek understood him. His mother had died in this town, he had seen death more times that a 17 years old should, had seen Boyd and Erica fall before his eyes, had been kidnapped and possessed. He had been an instrument used to write death on Allison and Ethan’s life.
No one knew- apart from Derek, of course- how close Allison and Stiles actually were. The girl had spent ages with Stiles after the entire Gerard/Kanima scenario went down, trying to find herself again. They jokingly called themselves team human. He had known, but never thought her death would make him so catatonic.
When his own family died, he had grieved, of course. But he had had Laura. She helped him out of it. She had been the best sister and Alpha. They had clung to each other. And when Laura died, he had had the need for revenge guiding him, and then he had found a Pack. He always had someone.
And he had thought that Stiles had someone too. That he needed to stay away from the supernatural. That he deserved a chance to a normal life. And in doing so, he had lost the boy.
“Yeah.” He said in the end. He would have loved the multi layered chocolate and vanilla delight.
Melissa had almost cancelled the wedding when she had found out. She still looked sad, and kept making these abort gestures, as if she was going to say something, but then stopped and looked miserable.
The Sheriff coped differently. He was angry, but underneath the anger, Derek could smell his sadness, his pain and his regret.
“It’s not your fault. Don’t blame yourself.” Told him Lydia, again, and Derek looked at her from behind his eyelashes.
“Same goes for you.”
All of them coped differently. Scott, when he found out, had come all the way to the loft and punched Derek in the face. And then he had thrown himself at him, and just started crying. In a matter of weeks, he had lost everything. Kira, Allison, his unwavering friendship with Isaac and now Stiles.
Lydia had, for the first time in his whole life, lost control in front of them. She had slumped on the floor and cried, dragging her nails in Derek’s sofa.
Isaac had ran away and closed himself in his bedroom, whimpering. Danny, Malia and Kira all were sad, but they didn’t really understand.
Derek had let Scott cry, and then had left the house, shifting in his wolf form, and let out all the pain he felt in his chest at having driven Stiles- his Stiles- away for god knows how long.
The girl gave him a small smile, and linked arms with him. “Come on, let’s give them a proper pack blessing and congratulations.”
Malia and Kira, dressed matching were already standing next to the Sheriff and Mama McCall, although Malia had long lost her shoes. Scott smiled at them, as Isaac and Danny stopped next to them. Danny grinned back, and so did Isaac, turning around to say something and stopping mid movement. He frowned, and the smile slipped from his lips.
“Well, don’t you look dashing.” Said Lydia at Scott’s mom, who just blushed and smiled.
Before she could answer, Parrish stopped next to them. The man had been invited last minute by the Sheriff, almost as if he wanted to replace the gap from Stiles, somehow. It wasn’t working.
The deputy had a grave air on his face, and he looked pained as he looked at the Sheriff. “It was a call from the Station. I would wait, but it can’t wait.”
Lydia rolled her eyes, but Derek could smell his fear and the steadiness of his heart when he spoke. The Sheriff nodded. “What it is?”
Jordan looked like he didn’t know how to breach the conversation. The majority of people had already reached the location of the reception, leaving only the pack and Parrish. “God, how do I even… Okay.” He swallowed. “You know deputy Martinez?” he asked, which was dumb, since he was the sheriff.
“Cassidy. Is she okay?” asked the man sharply, and frowned when Jordan shook his head.
“Physically she is fine. Emotionally… no.” he sucked in a breath, and then he put on his cop expression. “There has been an accident, and her sister died.” He said, and the Sheriff looked up the sky.
“Poor Cassidy.” Muttered the man, but from Jordan’s expression, he wasn’t finished.
“Her and every single passenger are most likely dead, although they are still looking for the bodies.” The Sheriff nodded. Jordan continued, because the Sheriff wasn’t getting it. “It was a plane crash.”
Lydia stilled, her eyes going wide and her heart racing even before he continued. “Sheriff, I’m so sorry. It was the plane that left two days ago directed to Australia. Stiles’ plane.” He said gravelly.
“Oh, fuck.” Breathed Danny, rubbing his hands on his face. Lydia sat down, stunned, and Scott froze. The Sheriff didn’t say anything hands shaking. He didn’t breathe, his heart going up irregularly.
No. He really wasn’t breathing. “Sheriff!” called the werewolf, as the man fell on the ground, clutching his hands to his chest, tears rolling down his face. A heart attack.
The old man locked eyes with Derek, pain so raw in his eyes that he seemed naked. “I told him he wasn’t my son anymore.” He whispered, and his heart stopped beating.
+
Stiles felt the crash, felt the water and the pain all at once, and then nothing. He opened his eyes.
He wasn’t in the water, which was an unexpected plus. And he wasn’t in the plane either. He sat up quickly, and nearly fell over again. He was laying at the edge of a forest, right at the front, and he could see the sea from not too far away. But there was no trace of the plane.
When he looked around him again, he spotted two similar figures laying next to each other and his heart started beating frantically. He stood up, his legs almost giving up under his weight, and rushed towards the two kids. “Oh my god, Bianca! Anya!” he called, falling right next to them.
Their eyes were closed and they didn’t seem to be moving in the slightest. No. Stiles couldn’t take this. “BIANCA! ANASTASIA!”
He felt like he was in a new skin. Like this was his first time experiencing death. Like he was a pure kid just thrown in the body of an angsty self-loathing teenage boy. His entire body was on flame, as he screamed and shouted, as if he was combusting and destroying.
He felt the power from the ground, he felt everything at once, and there was a flash of light. Stiles raged.
+
The Sheriff opened his eyes, and looked around himself. He was standing in what looked like a waiting room, completely white and spotless. Everything seemed just so clean. There were a couple more people, but it was like he couldn’t focus on them in the slightest.
He didn’t know what he was doing there. Couldn’t remember what had happened. It seemed a little like an hospital.
“John Stilinski at number AO3!” called a woman from one of the stations. That was his name. He noticed some people looking up startled at his name.
He walked up to the woman, confused, and she smiled gently. “Good morning, Mr Stilinski. How are you feeling?”
“Where am I? I don’t remember coming here.” Said the man instead, and she stretched out her hand. The man looked at her hand, and she huffed a laugh, pointing at a file he was holding in his hands. He hadn’t noticed. He handed it to her.
“My, my. People usually get away with debts like this. Whoever is claiming it back must be strong.” She said, and the sheriff blinked.
“I beg your pardon? I- is there a problem with my insurance? What debt?” he asked, and she rolled her eyes, and kept typing.
“You owe Mrs Claudia Stilinski, born Bulanov, a debt.” The Sheriff’s eye widened. The girl kept typing and speaking. “You swore to look after Stiles Stilinski, born Mieczyslaw Genim Stilinski, and you failed to complete this.” She explained.
The Sheriff sucked a breath. Claudia? Where was she? Where was Stiles? Before he could answer, two little girls walked past him to another cashier and handed their paper. They looked like twins, despite having different hairstyles.
The other cashier smiled at them. “Anastasia and Bianca Lovelace. Urgent. Well, you two should got then, shouldn’t you?” she asked and the two girls looked at her apprehensively. The cashier smirked. “Mr Stiles is waiting for you.” The two girls gasped, and in a second they were out of the room.
His cashier smiled. “You may go using this door. Here is a key.” She said, and handed him the said key. The Sheriff was thoroughly confused. Was he dead? Was Stiles dead? Did the two girls run off to his Stiles?
The cashier helped him towards one of the doors, and right before he stepped through it, he heard another call a name he remembered pretty well. “Allison Argent to desk number AO3, please.”
At first it was darkness, and then the Sheriff opened his eyes. He was laying down on the ground, head resting on Melissa’s lap as she cried softly. He blinked and struggled to move. The woman looked at him in shock. “John?!”
In a second people had surrounded him and the Sheriff couldn’t understand a word that was going on, as the woman he had just married held him and cried. “Oh John!”
Derek was staring at him, his eyes tear ridden. “You died. Lydia even screamed.” He said, dumbfounded, and Scott was looking at him like a ghost.
He held Melissa with a hand. “How long was I dead for?” he asked, and Isaac sniffed.
“A good ten minutes. Mr Stilinski, we thought you were gone.” He said, and he could see the silent question in all their eyes. How?
The Sheriff looked at the aisle, not too far away. “I had a debt to finish.” Then he looked back at them. “I think Stiles is still alive.”
+
Stiles was floating both metaphorically and in reality. Everything seemed to be so light.
He couldn’t move, could only just blink, as he floated in the air. The air smelt like flowers and summer.
Where am I?
Hi, son.
Stiles’ eye widened as a face materialised upside down in front of him. She looked as beautiful as he remembered, long hair cascading to her shoulder a blue dress on her. He didn’t open his lips… he just thought out loud.
Mum.
Yes. Stiles, son… I am so proud of you.
Uh? What? Mama, am I dead, too?
No. If you were, I’d personally murder you.
Mama that didn’t even make sense.
Whatever. As I was saying… I’m proud of you, son.
Mum, stop. I killed… I killed people.
The Nogitsune killed people.
I was the Nogitsune, mama.
You were the Not-gitsune.
Please stop trying to be funny, it hurts.
Funny? I’m dead serious, Stiles.
Mama.
Oh, come on! That was a good pun. Point is, the Nogitsune was in you and it was controlling you.
It felt good.
Uh?
I remember the people I killed and manipulated, and it felt good, mama. It’s also my fault.
Would you have started murdering people if the Nogitsune hadn’t gotten into you?
We might never know.
I know you, Stiles.
Do you? I changed, mama. I am not who I used to be.
You saved two kids that you barely knew because you didn’t want them to die.
Bianca and Anya? Are they alive?
Yes. You brought them back.
What?
You finally activated your spark. You burnt out all that was left from the Nogitsune, and your spark burned brighter than ever. You saved them.
I did?
Yes. That’s what you do Stiles. You always try to save everyone.
That’s Scott.
The difference between the two of you is subtle. You know when saving someone is doable and when it’s not. You understand what’s practical and what isn’t.
So can I bring you back?
In theory yes. But you would die.
Great. How did I save the two of them, then?
They have smaller souls. They had not been completely dead. You used almost all your strength anyway.
Why can I see you now? Is it a dream?
Because of your spark, duh. And yes it is a dream but it’s also real.
So cryptic. Man, you would have loved Dr Deaton.
Alan? We went school together.
Of fu-dging course.
Stiles listen to me. I am proud of you, because no matter what, you kept fighting. You always tried your hardest. You are only human, a human who ran with wolves. You kept falling, but you stood up again and kept running. You never looked back. Its normal that you finally need to sit and take a break for a moment. Look at how far you’ve come. I have every right to be proud of you, son.
I love you. I just… I love you so much, mum. And I miss you, and dad too.
Your father is exactly where you left him, waiting for you. You lost me? I never left. I promised I would look after you, didn’t I?
He said that I wasn’t his son anymore.
John has a knack for the dramatic.
You weren’t there. You didn’t hear him.
Uh-uh, fyi I very much was there.
Please never say fyi again.
No can do.
I left town two days before his wedding.
He already forgave you. He understands you better than you give him credit for. But he’s a father, and you are his son, and it still hurts.
He is marrying Melissa McCall.
Yeah, that’s great! I always liked Melissa. Her husband… ugh. I told her he was bad news.
And are you okay with it?
Little boy, I only want the best for you and your father. Until you are happy, I am happy.
What happens now?
You have two little pups to look after. I also have taken the liberty to send you a present, since you finally activated your fire spark.
A present? Giddy. Can I will anything I want to happen now? Like, can I will a new plane and a phone so we can get the fu-dge away from here?
Sure, you can try. But you would end up dead.
Ugh.
The more specific what you wish for is, the more strength it will take away from you. We are sparks not faeries.
Makes sense. So my wishes should be like food, somewhere to stay and stuff like that?
Exactly.
Oh man. This is going to be fun. Will I ever see you again?
Might take a bite out your strength but definitely yes.
Can you tell me where you are going now?
Going nowhere. Didn’t I tell you already, young man? I am always with you.
Stiles woke up to a small kid sat on his chest, with sand all over his chest and legs. Anya smiled when she saw him finally opening his eyes, a thumb in her mouth. “Hi.” She murmured shyly.
The boy sat up, and then buried his face in her neck, holding her tight. “Hi.” He murmured back, and she relaxed in his embrace. He looked around, and spotted Bianca not too far away, building a castle with her hands, and for the first time in years, he relaxed.
It was like everything was new and afresh. Yes, Allison’s death still hurt. He missed Erica and Boyd, and his mum. But at the same time, that sense of guilt and misery that had completely overpowered him after they killed the Nogitsune and had persisted with him had vanished, leaving behind a lot of anger.
Anger at the Pack mostly. Because what had been understanding now turned into him being annoyed.
Lydia should not be blaming him from what something else had done. She had never blamed Jackson for the things the kanima did, and the only difference here was that Stiles hadn’t turned into a giant lizard, since they were. Both. Being. Possessed.
Scott should have stepped up to his role of Alpha of the Pack and tried to fix something, because of course his emotions were connected to how the Pack felt. If Scott was sad and hurt, what did he expect the rest to do?
Isaac should have woken up and realised that this was the real world, and that he couldn’t control how Allison felt about him or whatnot. Life wasn’t a goddamn fairy-tale.
And Derek should remember fucking carpe diem, because if he kept pushing away all the things he wanted from life, then nothing would ever work out for him, and he was going to die alone.
He wasn’t sad anymore. Sure, he was grieving, but he was furious. He was going to live; he was going to survive no matter what. And then, when he got better and went back, they would all beg him to stay.
He was vaguely aware that Anastasia was scent marking him, and he almost chuckled at the little girl’s antics, losing himself in the moment. Two hands fell on his eyes and a voice asked. “Guess who?”
Stiles smirked and pretended to wonder. “Anya?” he asked, and the little girl still in his lap giggled.
“No!”
“Then you must be… Allison?” he asked, saying her name finally in weeks. It didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would. The Pack, everything that happened seemed almost like a very far away dream.
Bianca huffed. “No! Come on, Mr Stiles!” she said again.
Stiles snickered. “Oh! You must be Bianca, then.” He said, and the girl grinned at him, taking her hands off as she sat down next to them on the sand.
“Who is Allison?” she asked, and Stiles smiled, looking at the water. In a few minutes he should stand up and look around, try to figure out where they were. Try to find a place to sleep in and maybe some food.
“Allison is…” he thought about it. “She is my sister in all but blood.”
Anya frowned, still sucking her thumb. “What does that mean?” she asked.
“We had two different moms and dads, but I still consider her my sister.” The girl shifted, getting more comfortable on him. Bianca laid her head on his legs. “She was… she was one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever seen. She was brave and... She is brave, and she is strong. She is a leader and she never wavers when she does what she thinks is good. It might not be, but she believes blindly in everything she does.
She hates romantic comedies with a passion, and pours ketchup on everything. Once she put it in her pasta- pasta! She can’t cook, but she makes the best teas and coffees in the world. She is great at sports like archery- Robin Hood’s sport- but she is a failure in anything that is about history. She paints a lot, it’s her hobby. Sometimes me and her go around, and she takes pictures and I draw them.”
“Doggy.” Called Anya.
“Where is she now?” asked Bianca.
Stiles shrugged. “Somewhere far. But one day, I’ll see her again.” He said fervently.
“Doggy.” Repeated the little girl, and Bianca turned to her.
“Doggy?” she asked, and Stiles turned around to see a big wolf standing not too far and making his way towards them, slowly, as if it didn’t want to startle them.
It had a big book in his mouth, and its fur was a rich sandy colour. Stiles knew immediately that it was the gift his mother meant.
Anya and Bianca didn’t move, mesmerised by the creature, and Stiles put the both behind him and took one step towards the animal. The creature’s eyes brimmed with intelligence as it pushed the book towards Stiles with his nose.
Stiles took it, and the wolf laid on the ground, ears down, and looking at Stiles. The book was titled ‘Familiars and Spark’. His eyes quickly scanned through the introduction.
Preface
Familiars are often confused for a witch’s little pet, but that isn’t what they are. A familiar can be an animal or a person, and is usually a fragment of the soul of a spark.
The stronger a spark is, the stronger his familiar is. If a spark has dark magic, the familiar will look sickly. Sparks usually have one familiar who never changes its form throughout their entire life. Usually his form reflects who the spark is inside, and after drastic changes- deaths, for example- a familiar could change form and remain like that forever.
If a spark’s affinity is water, they are more likely to have a water based familiar like a fish, or a turtle; if it’s air, their familiar can be any kind of animal that braves the sky; if it’s earth, they can have any animal on Earth, including humans.
There is one other kind of spark, with fire affinity. They are the strongest spark in terms of familiar and control. They can will something to happen, and it will. Their familiar is usually a shapeshifter that can change in any animal in any given moment. Wherever they go, their familiar will be with them. If they die, their familiar will die too.
Stiles looked down at the wolf and smirked. “So you are my familiar, uh. I’m Stiles. What is your name?” he asked, as Bianca and Anya waved at the wolf.
The wolf huffed and held up a paw, putting it on Stiles’ heart.
It was a she-wolf. Young. Unnamed. Could change at will since Stiles was indeed a fire spark.
Stiles turned to Anya and Bianca. “What do you want to call her?” he asked.
“Lola!” called Bianca, and Stiles saw the wolf giving him a look, as if she was daring him to call her Lola.
Anya wrinkled her small nose. “Leah Clearwater.” She proposed, and the wolf almost whimpered at their name choices.
Stiles snorted. “What do you think about Skyler?” he said, and the two girls looked at each other.
“YES! Her name is Skyler!” decided Bianca, Anya nodding solemnly in agreement. The wolf gave another huff, but she seemed also pleased with the name.
Now came the tricky part. He turned to the two girls. “You two go and play with Sky. See if you find somewhere like a cave or something, but don’t go too deep in the woods okay?” he asked them, and Anya grabbed his trousers, looking at him questioningly.
Stiles crouched down next to her a gave them both a kiss on the forehead. “I’m going to look for food. I will be right back.” He promised, and she reluctantly let go of his shirt. Stiles took the book in his hands, and the two girls were distracted by Skyler.
He was not going to lie. This was not going to be easy. Neither of the two girls seemed too disappointed at the disappearance of the men that were apparently looking after them, and Stiles had the sneaking suspicion that the men were hunters in the first place.
He was also getting attached to them surprisingly easily. Before his mother’s death, he had been a very extroverted kid who considered everyone his friend. He trusted implicitly and befriended anyone in a matter of seconds.
After his mother’s death… well, he had just started to look at the world with critical eye, and not getting attached to anyone. He drove any other friend away, except Scott. He almost laughed: stupid, kind and loyal Scott. He missed him, and he also wanted to hit him on the head with something.
The boy opened the book until he got to the chapter about fire sparks. According to the book, Fire Sparks were the strongest, but even them, at their beginning had to learn how to use their power slowly. A spark was not magic: a spark was that unwavering trust in yourself that made you a little more than a simple human.
Funny how this happened to the one guy who trusted himself less.
He took the book in his hands and took a deep breath. A book was something simple, he convinced himself. Just like the mountain ash with Deaton. He could fit it in his pocket, it could fit. It could… With his eyes closed he put the book in his pocket and grinned when it actually did fit.
His face hurt a little at the expression. This, the undeniable happiness, this excitement was something Stiles hadn’t felt in a long time. He could do it.
The first thing he did was climb a little rocky formation not too far away, to see where the hell were they. He reached the top with little fatigue, and looked down at the outskirts of the beach. Anya was sat comfortably on top of Skyler, while Bianca guided them both around. They looked like ants from the distance.
The water was shining, a deep blue colour, but there was no sign of the airplane. Even if it had fallen, it should at least have showed some sort of sign, right? At least some piece still floating? They couldn’t have been unconscious long enough for people to have come and collected every piece of it. They would have checked to see if anyone was on the land, right?
It didn’t look like they were on an island, but he couldn’t be sure. Perhaps it was a very big island? They had been flying somewhere above the Pacific, which was scattered with islands. There wasn’t any actual land for kilometres.
He descended after a few moments, heading towards the sea this time. He had spotted a secluded area not too far away from where the girls and the wolf were playing, and it seemed the perfect place to try out his rusty fishing skills.
Stiles was willing to admit that he wasn’t the best fisherman in the history of ever. He was awful. He should have gone out fishing with his dad more often. He tried to believe that he could fish, that he could get food, but apparently you couldn’t believe in skills you didn’t have.
He wasn’t hungry but he had two children with him. And a wolf. God knows how much they needed to eat. And so, he continued trying to fish.
He had only caught like three fishes he didn’t know, the size of sardines, when he first noticed the objects in the water. He couldn’t see exactly what they were, only aware that they were floating in their direction. Which was suspicious.
He stood up, the stupid fish forgotten as he snatched up the nearest thing he could use as a weapon. A stick. Uh-uh. And then he waited.
His eyes widened in shock when he finally realised what they were. He had assumed that his will had ended up blasting them as far away from the plane as possible, but… unless there had been another plane crash nearby, those were bags coming closer to them. He immediately jumped in the water, and a part of his brain picked on the fact that it was hotter than the water in California. He must be more towards south, then.
The salty water burned the numerous scratches on his body, but he kept his eyes open as he swam towards the bags. The current was in their favour, so he didn’t need to do much pushing before the three bags were securely on the beach. They were a set, and from the way the names and plane number had faded away, he guessed it hadn’t been their flight. He just hoped the contents weren’t too damaged.
The biggest bag was full of clothes and toiletries. Female clothes. Whoever it belonged to was older than Stiles, but he was sure he could fix them up and fit them to himself and the two girls. Thankfully there was a small sewing set with it too.
The second bag was equally full of clothes and water bottles. Mineral water, but not much food. Just a couple of bags of chips and sweets. The last bag was filled with books and more toiletries. Some hair brushes, a couple of shampoos and conditioners. But the best thing was that the bag was completely enveloped, in a fishing net.
The first thing he did was take off the fishing net and carefully put it where he had been fishing earlier. With the fishing net in place, he started cleaning up the clothes, bathing them once again in the fresh warm water. He piled them up in all what they could use (like trousers and the baby clothes), what could be used (a skirt can be a shirt if you are creative enough), and what was definitely unusable (what was he going to use the bras for?).
Once he was finished with cleaning and cataloguing the clothes, he laid them on the sand to dry off. He shifted the rest of the bags to dry off, too. The bags were big, and with the clothes they wouldn’t use, he could fix a makeshift bed for the two little ones.
He worked relentlessly for a few more hours, until Anya, Bianca and Skyler finally came back to him. Bianca and her sister were trying to outrun the wolf, who was pretending that they were too fast for him. Stiles found himself grinning as they came barrelling towards him. It was like having his own little family.
They both jumped at him, knocking his breath out, before starting to speak all at once, Skyler yipping and jumping all around them. He laughed again. “Ehi, ehi. Take a deep breath, and tell me what is going on.”
Anya took a deep breath, but her twin jumped over. “We found a big box!” she said, excitedly, holding his hand with hers. Anya nodded. “A big container.” She explained.
The wolf next to them seemed to nod solemnly and tried to push him on his feet by the hem of his sleeve, making Stiles yelp in alarm. If there was a container, there was a chance of sleeping somewhere that would not be too cold in the night.
They walked together towards the woods for a while, Anya holding one of his hands and Bianca the other, while Skyler guided them towards the container the two girls had found. It was definitely a container, the kind that you find on cargos. It wasn’t that far from the beach, almost stuck between the trees and the sand.
Being the son of the town sheriff, meant that Stiles was quick in breaking the lock, after making Skyler and the kids check that no heartbeat could be heard from inside or from around them.
His jaw dropped. The container was slightly ruined, and had several holes, but the content looked grade A okay. There was a car inside, and a small sidecar. A couple of bikes, but what surprised Stiles the most was the food. Wholesome food, chocolate, pasta, pots, bags of rice, mineral water bottles.
Anya and Bianca ran towards the two bikes, while Stiles went straight for the goods. There were a few pots, but no plates. His mind was already racing and working on how to prepare some, as he checked the dates on the foods. Some, like the chocolate (RIP), were expired, but the majority of it said that the food was valid until the next year.
He turned to the two girls with a smile. “You did a great job.” He told them, and they beamed at him, while the wolf yipped next to them.
The next few hours were long. Stiles tried to get most of the stuff out of the container, creating a little more space for the rest of them, but some, like the car and the sidecar, he just let them be. Once he finished with that, he went back to the beach and pushed out the net. There were more fish than he expected, and he allowed himself a fist pump as he took them to cook on the beach. The clothes were still mostly wet, but he decided that he could still use the bags for sleeping.
Stiles was an okay cooker, and he already knew how to cook a fish. He was quick and watched the girls running and playing with each other as he fried the fish and made a light soup out of another one. He was going to have to talk to them about their situation soon enough.
When the sun finally started to set, Stiles took the fried fish sticks and the soup and headed towards the container, the two girls jumping up and down behind him with the wolf. The first thing he did was start a fire. The flames had just begun appearing when Bianca let a scared scream. “No!” she called, pushing sand on the fire and trying to extinguish it.
Stiles pushed himself to his feet, moving her away from it, as she squirmed and screamed. “NO, Bianca, stop!” called Stiles, and she clawed at him, eyes burning golden.
“You said you were good, stop, stop! Turn it off! It hurts!” she was working herself in a panic attack, while Anya stood frozen on the other side with Skyler growling nervously. Stiles threw himself at the girl before she could stomp on the fire again, and held her by the shoulders as she tried to claw his face again.
“Bianca!” he said, sharply, and she ignored him, struggling. “Bianca, tell me what is it? You are going to get hurt!” he exclaimed, when she trashed for a few more moments. Stiles grabbed her, then, and moved farther away from the container, still in plain view for Anya and the wolf, and finally and slowly, Bianca started to calm down a little, the tears still rolling down her cheeks.
“Pack doesn’t hurt each other.” She hiccupped, and Stiles almost flinched away from her. She didn’t notice. “Then why did you start the fire?”
It takes Stiles a few moments before he finally realises what is going on. He remembered the way Bianca had panicked at the fire in the airplane, terrified, and he almost hit himself for not figuring it out before. He put an arm around her and put her in his lap, a sorry expression on his face. “Bianca… I would never hurt you. The fire… fire is not always bad.” He told her, earnestly.
She looked at him through tears filled eyes. Stiles patted her on the head. “I would never hurt you. Never. I want you and Anya to be safe, and maybe take you home to your Uncle.” He told her, and Bianca went stiff for a moment.
“We don’t have an uncle.” She said in the end, and Stiles looked at her puzzled. She rubbed her eyes. “We don’t have an uncle. After the house burned down and that woman took me and Anya out, they took us to the big house.” She told him.
Stiles tilted his head to the side. “To the Big House?” he asked, and she nodded.
“The big house with all the kids that are orph- orphy- orphuns” she struggled to say the word. Stiles looked at her sadly. “Orphans?” he asked, and she nodded.
“Yeah, with all the orphans. And then there was another wolf, but he wasn’t pack, he worked there, and he taught us how to keep in control, but he never let us scent mark him. And then the men came in, and they lied saying that we were going to see our uncle, but he let them take us away.” She explained in the end. She had finally stopped crying, and Stiles forced himself to remain calm and composed and keep his heartbeat steady to not freak them out, when all he wanted was find the man who had let them being taken away from the hunters and give him a piece of his own mind.
Stiles gave her a kiss on the forehead. “You should know that I would never hurt you. I know the fire is scary, but I’m with you. And so are Skyler and Anya. I would never hurt any of them.” He promised, and Bianca nodded slowly, reassured by how calm he was.
They made their way towards the fire again, and Anya sat up from where she was laying on top of Skyler, a thumb in her mouth. Stiles flashed them both a smile, and Anya returned it, giving her sister a brief hug. “Bianca?” she said, questioning.
Her sister sat behind her and Skyler, far from the fire, but she didn’t start panicking again. Stiles took it as a small win, and handed out their food. Anya spoke after taking a few spoonsful of her soup. “Where are we?” she asked, curios.
Stiles looked out of the room, at where the sun had finally disappeared under the sea. He would have eventually to tell them that he didn’t know. That he wasn’t sure how long they could survive on fish and whatever the food in the container. But not today. It had been a long day already. It was hard to think that merely a few days ago he had been in Beacon Hills, slowly killing himself and losing his mind.
He turned to his new little pack, made of two baby werewolves and a wolf, and gave them a grin. “We are on an adventure.”
Anya clapped her hands, Bianca giggled and Skyler rolled her eyes at him.
Stiles woke up to someone breathing down his neck. Normally this would have been enough to have him jumping up and reaching for the nearest weapon, but he recognized who it was without even opening his eyes. “Go away, Skyler.” He huffed, and the wolf gave a low rumble that could have been a laugh.
She put her nose on his cheek, both scent marking him and trying to force him to wake up. Stiles tried to push her away. “Leave me alone…” he grumbled, and someone else sat on his stomach.
This time Stiles opened his eyes to see Anya, smiling sunnily at him from where she was sitting on him. She poked his nose and rubbed her hand on his cheek. “Wakey wakey.” She announced, and Stiles sighed, rubbing his eyes.
“How long have you been awake?” he asked, moving his aching limbs. He had slept in the seat of the car, and it had not been comfortable at all. Skyler had chosen to sleep in the sidecar, and he didn’t have much choice left. Thank god both girls fitted in the two bags, or Stiles wasn’t sure what he would have done.
Anya shrugged, as he finally sat up and stretched. “’M hungry.” She said instead, and Stiles nodded, still tired.
Waking up Bianca was a challenge. The girl whined and rolled on her bed, refusing to wake up and attaching herself to the closest thing to her (Stiles). The boy couldn’t even begrudge her. It was still early, and he would have slept soundly for another hour or so if it had been up to him. Nevertheless he held her as they made their way towards the beach again.
Stiles washed his face with the salty water and then proceeded to get out the biscuits and some of the mineral water for the two girls. Once they had eaten, he sent them off to play with Skyler, while he went to check in the woods for a while. He remembered reading somewhere that if there were that many trees, it meant that a source of water was nearby.
He noticed how the trees went from just green trees to more fruit trees, and it wasn’t too long before he heard the rumbling of water. A waterfall. The water was clear looking as it fell down, splashing on some rocks. The river continued in the opposite direction from where they came, but Stiles didn’t follow it. He knew himself well enough to know that if he tried to follow it, he would get lost.
The water was cold, but not too cold, ideal for a wash. As he had made his way towards the waterfalls, he had noticed a few mint sticks, plants of mint that they could probably chew on to make sure their breath didn’t stank.
Once he got back to the beach, he made sure to pack some of the dried clothes for the girls, and then brought them at the waterfalls. The trying to clean their teeth with mint had been hard, but once they saw the water, they were out of their clothes and inside before Stiles could even say ‘Go crazy’.
Skyler came to set next to him, observing and tolerating the water splashing for a while, before she dropped her head on Stiles’ leg, the boy absently petting her.
They set a routine. In the mornings, Anya or Skyler, or Anya and Skyler, would wake him up sooner than they were expected, and then Skyler would force him on a morning run. Since Bianca always refused to open her eyes and just complained, and clung on everyone, Stiles would hold her on his back as he ran, while Anya held tight on Skyler’s fur.
More often than not, after they ran, they took a wash in the water all together, Bianca waking up properly the moment she heard the sound of the falling water. Skyler huffed and growled, but she was always one of the last to leave the water once they had finished.
It took them a few days of Stiles studying the book his mother left him to realise that Skyler could change into her own animal at wish. And she did, allowing them to have fresh milk and eggs fresh in the mornings.
After having breakfast, the wolf decided that she would be training them all. Stiles had been sceptical the first time the wolf stood in front of him, book in her teeth and somehow opened a page of simple spark incantations. He didn’t think he was ready for that yet, but the wolf had disagreed. It was hard and tiring. Stiles tried his best, but each time he did it, especially the first time he tried a new incantation, he felt like he was about to faint from exhaustion.
Skyler also decided that the kids needed to train, and that was something Stiles understood, although wasn’t comfortable with. He knew what it was like to be put at the back of things, with everyone knowing how to defend themselves but you. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth, like every time he thought about Peter Hale, the Nogitsune or Gerard Argent.
So Stiles attempted to teach them some sort of self-defence. It was the basic sort of karate he had a vague idea of remembering from school, but it was actually Skyler who did most of the job. She would snap them right into their little werewolf mojo, attacking them but never once hurting them.
Then they would have lunch, sometimes at the beach and sometimes back in the container. Skyler usually took that time to take a nap, and Stiles was left to play tag or tell stories to the two kids. It wasn’t a hardship, and he enjoyed it more than he would like to admit.
He told them stories about his childhood, about his parents, and about his school. He told them a little bit about Scott, since Scott was basically his childhood, and Lydia, but tried to avoid talking about any of his pack mates too long. If he did, he would start longing for them, and he didn’t want to long for something he wasn’t sure he would even get.
When Skyler woke up, she would run with them on the beach again, and Stiles sat not too far, at the outskirts of the woods, nose deep in the book again. It was interesting, the book, saying more and more about the relationship between a familiar and its spark. The importance of setting up a mental connection with them, to make them different from an ordinary pet. They were too smart to be an ordinary pet anyway.
Finally they would have dinner, and then the two girls would finally go to sleep, worn out and exhausted. Stiles always put them in the two open bags and laid the bags inside the car, but by the time he was awake, somehow they were both pressed against him, craving the skin to skin contact even in their sleep. Werewolves were tactical creatures.
They had nightmares, all of them. Stiles could wake himself out of them and just the feeling of being squashed by those small little bodies, and Skyler who always seemed to knew when he was having a bad dream, was enough to lull him back in a somehow more peaceful sleep.
Bianca usually shook when she had a nightmare, and when she finally woke up crying over him, she would tell him what she dreamt about with frightening details. It was always the fire, but she dreamt about Stiles dying in it too, and that seemed to be what woke her up. Stiles helped her how he could with kisses and hugs, and she seemed to calm down after that.
The first time he heard Anya having a nightmare, Stiles was confused. She hadn’t been shaking, or crying out in terror. Stiles had woken up to see her just laying on his stomach, tears rolling down her cheek. When he had managed to wake her up, she had just held him with her arms around his neck. “Please don’t ever leave us, Tata.” She whimpered, using the polish version of dad that Stiles had told them his mom used to call his dad. He had been too exhausted to even ponder why she was calling him that, and just kissed her on the head and promised that he never would.
Their little pack was taking up most of his time, which is the excuse Stiles was going to use if anyone ever asked him how did he not see or remember of the full moon until it happened. He had a lot of clues that she should have picked up on, but he was too busy doing magic to even think about it.
The first sign that something was wrong came from Bianca that afternoon. She had been crankier than usual when Stiles had woken her up, but had seemed to snap out of it after a while. Until when Stiles was practicing magic under Skyler’s judgemental eye, and she had planted herself at his side, completely ignoring Anya who was drawing on the sand with her finger.
“I’m bored.” She said, crossing her arms over her chest, and Stiles nodded absently as he tried again with the magic.
Bianca didn’t budge, tugging at his sleeve. “Mr Stiles!” she said impatiently, and Skyler snapped her teeth at her.
“Bi, give me a sec, yeah?” he asked her, feeling the sparks coming from his hands.
Bianca let go of his sleeve and then walked away to the other side of the beach, leaving them alone.
When Stiles was finally done with his book, he looked at where she was sat all alone watching the waves, but before he could move towards her, Anya was beside him. “My hands hurt.” She told him, wiggling said hands in front of her.
There wasn’t anything out of the ordinary with them. They looked a little red at the top. “It’s probably all the sand that you were playing with.” He told her, and she looked offended at that, her eyes filling with tears.
“But I…” Stiles’ eyes widened, as the girl sat down on the ground and curled around herself, and Stiles immediately pulled her up on him, completely at loss on what the hell was happening.
“Hey, hey, Nya, it’s okay.” He promised, running a hand though the girl’s hair, as she clung on him, crying and scent marking him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you sad! Everything is okay.” He promised, and she sniffed in his calming scent, nodding at him. Skyler whined, and Stiles rolled his eyes at her. “Yeah, yeah, you big puppy, here’s your precious Anya.” He told the wolf, who glared at him, but nuzzled the little girl’s cheek.
Once he was sure Anya was somewhat calm, he made towards Bianca, who was still where she had been before, looking at the waves and the water. He sat next to her, and the girl refused to glance up at him. Stiles spoke anyway. “Are you okay, Bianca?”
The little girl took a rock from the beach and threw it in the water. “You don’t like me.” She stated, and Stiles looked at her like she had just grown another head. “Not like you like Anya.” She clarified.
Stiles put a hand around her tiny shoulders. “That’s not true, and you know it. I love you both.” He declared, and Bianca shook her head.
“It’s okay. Everyone loves the little ones.” She shrugged like it wasn’t big deal. “It’s- uhm, fine.” She told him, and Stiles put his hands on her shoulders.
“What did I- Did I do something?” he asked, and Bianca, swallowed.
“Yesterday I called you Tata.” She said instead, and Stiles remembered.
They had been playing tag, when Bianca had thrown herself at him, saying “Catch me, Tata!” Stiles had obviously caught her, but had immediately tickled her with his free hand. “I am not your Tata.” He had said, jokingly, knowing that his heart would tick him off, since he wasn’t, not really, but he basically was.
“Bianca, I-” he started, but her lower lip was already wobbling.
“You always let Anya call you Tata. Why can’t I?” she asked, and Stile gave her a hug, trying to soothe her.
“I didn’t- I’m sorry, Bianca. I can be your Tata.” He promised, and she had visibly relaxed, looking at him with wide eyes.
And Stiles totally meant it. This was more than a simple Pack. It was basically a family, and Stiles didn’t mind one bit. He liked them. He would protect them with his life. He wanted them safe. Didn’t that totally make him their dad?
It took the two of them wolfing out and Skyler howling at the moon, however to realise what it was going on. Bianca had attacked him and tried to bite him, while Anya had cried when her claw had finally appeared, probably for the first time. So that was why her hand hurt.
In the end, it didn’t even matter that much. The moment Bianca’s claws actually ended up hurting him and he hissed in pain, they were back human again, concern on their small faces. He definitely was their anchor as well, like Derek’s anchor had been his family. It was a nice thought.
For about two more weeks after the full moon events, Stiles and the kids trained and played there on the island. But the boy knew they couldn’t just stay there forever. They had to start moving, go somewhere. It was on one of those nights that Stiles read a page on Earth Sparks.
Earth Sparks have the ability to evolve themselves in witches more easily than any other spark kind, because of their affinity to Earth. Witches have affinity to Earth too, which is why Sparks of that kind are closer to them than any other. Witches always have sanctuaries in a particular forest or woodland: the bigger the forest, the higher number of sanctuaries you might encounter.
It wasn’t much to go on from, but it was all they had. From what he had read from the book, there were witch sanctuaries everywhere in the woods, and you just had to look for them. Stiles was as ready as he could be with the book, and he had also started to train and try to find the connection between him and Skyler.
So, with their bags magically shrunk and all their possession and transportable goods in there, the little pack finally left their house.
Timeline
2013
December - Allison's death
End December/beginning January - Stiles leaves Beacon Hills/accident happens
2014
January - sheriff dies/comes back to life
February - Allison and Aiden come back to life/ Stiles and the twins live on the island
March - Stiles and the twins go to the witches