Chapter Text
Noah met Claudia at high school. She was a very nice girl, with interests that went beyond those of a typical teenager. She liked comic books, which wasn't common for girls her age. She amazed him with thousands of random facts that came up in any conversation. She liked to debate issues that happened in town; she only asked for his opinion when she finished her 15-minute speech on the topic.
He thinks asking her to be his girlfriend was the best idea he'd ever had. Their relationship progressed slowly, with outings to the movies or the park, even a peaceful walk through the forest. As long as they were together, everything would be alright.
Furthermore, they learned something more about each other.
Claudia came from an ancient family of sorcerers.
Noah came from a family of werewolves.
There were clues about the other's true nature, like when Claudia would never jump out of surprise or when Noah always knew where she was; or the time when Noah solved the mystery of the stolen chemistry exam, alleging that he heard rumors through the school hallways and received an academic recognition from the school for his dedication to academic responsibility.
Both decided to remain silent until they were honest with each other.
After their graduation, he asked her to marry him, and she accepted.
Later, Noah and Claudia Stilinski had triplets; it was a very grateful surprise.
They decided that the names would be: Thomas, for the Greek meaning; Stuart, for Noah’s uncle; and Miecyzslaw, in honor of Claudia's late grandfather.
In the early months, the children began to show signs of their Supernatural nature.
Thomas was a werewolf, like his father.
Stuart was a sorcerer, like his mother.
But Miecyzslaw was different.
On a quiet night, with a clean sky and the mid-moon shining upon all the noisy lights of the streets, a Nogitsune took over the baby's body as a vessel before they knew his true Supernatural nature; They didn't realize it until the dark kitsune had taken root in the very soul of the child.
They grew up learning how to defend themselves and their loved ones, knowing that there were people dedicated to hunting supernatural beings.
They trained to master their abilities. Thomas learned to regulate his werewolf transformations, Stuart focused on using his powers in a controlled and purposeful manner, and Miecyzslaw managed to restrain the dark kitsune in a limited way, though at the cost of a conscious voice that spoke to him from within his own mind.
All this in the short age of 10 years.
Everything changed when Claudia was diagnosed with Frontotemporal Dementia.
It all reduced to a routine.
Hospital visits.
The pharmaceutical smell that never went away.
The obvious messing of Claudia's laugh and care.
The family suffered her loss in different ways.
Noah started drinking, with moderation; he still needed to take care of his three children.
(“I cannot do it,” Noah whispered to the grave, drinking directly from the beer bottle. “Not without you.”
He thought coming here would give him more clarity. Claudia, as a sorcerer, believed in reincarnation. She always told him that when she died, she'd become a sparrow; to be free, she said.
Time passed; the dark sky began to show light of orange and yellow shades.
And then he heard it. The song of a bird. A sparrow.
He started laughing. She was always so untimely. But showed up when it truly mattered.
“Take care of our boys,” she said, in one of the few moments of lucidity, with her beautiful smile he always loved. “They’ll need you more than you need me. Don't forget to live; that's why life is for.”
“I will,” he said firmly to the granite rock.
The song of morning was still playing as he got home.)
Thomas started having trouble in school: fights, skipping class, and having a short fuse.
(“He keeps provoking boys over his age, Mr. Stilinski,” the teacher said with disappointment in her tone. “He cannot continue like this. It looks like he wants to destroy himself.”
The voices fade away as they move far away from the wall Thomas was listening to; even with his supernatural hearing, it wasn't enough. He crossed his arms while he waited for his father to stop talking to the teacher; then they would go home, he would scold him there, and continue with their lives.
A few minutes later, he heard their voices again.
“You need to help your son,” the teacher stopped next to the other side of the door. “I know it is hard with your wife gone, but, with all due respect, you are not the only one grieving her loss.”
The teacher opened the door, and finally they could go home. Outside the school, Thomas ran; he got into the patrol car and slammed the door. His father walked with a slower pace, and he started driving way home.
The ride home was quiet.
When they arrived, Thomas got out of the car and walked to the door; he waited for his father to open it. But before inserting the key, he slightly turned his head in Thomas' direction and spoke in a thin voice.
“The pain, Tom, is different for everyone; sometimes it becomes anger, sometimes sadness. Just make sure it isn't the only thing you feel. You need to start living, boy. But not this way.”
His father didn't punish him that day.)
Stuart immersed himself in his studies, often forgetting to eat and isolating himself.
(“You need to let go, Stu,” she said calmly, trying to take away the book from his hands.
Normally, having a book in his hands would comfort him, but he had tried so many times; he had read every magic book his mother had. And nothing; there is nothing.
“I can do it, I just need more books. Maybe the Druid could-”
“Stuart, look at me.”
He raised his gaze and looked at her face.
“I can do it,” he replied, trying to convince himself.
“I know you could, but that doesn't mean you should,” her soft voice, the one she always used to sing him to sleep, brought tears to his eyes.
“Then what should I do?” Stuart asked with a broken tone.
“Learn. Create. Live, “ his mother looked at him straight in her eyes. Her brown eyes had this distinguished tone of green, and she had this bright look when she talked about something she was passionate about. “Live for those who don’t, and remember them. That's how they live without breathing, in our memories and the stories we tell about them.”
The memory fades away, a projection only possible because of his powers. He was sitting on his bed reproducing the memory with the precision of a three-dimensional movie, in the same spot it happened.
He was so obsessed with bringing his dear rabbit back to the realm of the living; he read all about it, the possibility of bringing his friend back with his powers, and fell its fur against his skin again.
His mother talked him out of it. Now he wishes to have finished his investigation.
But he knows his mother wouldn't like this decision.
Even when she left a giant hole in the family, and there was no soft voice that would sing his brothers and him to sleep, the smiles she would give him every time he learned a new spell, all of that was gone.
And then, the smell of books was the only comfort that remained.)
Mieczyslaw began to befriend the conscious voice in his head, considering him as his only friend. He called him Void.
(“What is it like, dying?”
It was late at night; his father was sleeping on the couch. He never sleeps in his bed anymore. Mieczyslaw asked him why one night. He said it wasn't worth it anymore; why go back if the only thing that made him want to come back was gone.
“Is the feeling of nothingness, a void that never fades away.”
From the rooftop, Mieczyslaw can see the road lined with houses leading to the forest; the sky is dark with no sign of moonlight, yet the streetlights provide enough light to discern the shapes. Below him, he can hear the breathing of his sleeping brothers.
“Have you died before?”
“A couple of times. But not the way you referred to”
The voice in his head was surprisingly nice to him; Mieczyslaw always tried to ignore the voice, but after everything, he didn't have anything else to do. Everyone was buried in their own pain, yet he still didn't understand his own.
“Which way then?”
“When nothing is left for you, when everything you've known fades before your eyes, when what you have built through sweat and blood with cherished hands is annihilated owed to something beyond your will. That leaves a hole inside you that nothing can easily fulfill.”
“Like a void that never fades away,” Mieczyslaw repeated the voice’s words, with comprehension in his tone.
They remained silent for some time, hearing the noises of the night and admiring the lonely streets.
“Are we dead?” the boy asked with a weak voice.
The voice knew what the kid referred to. The slow falling apart of his family, the silence where before there was happiness and laughter. Now everyone was on their own, trying to figure out how to fulfill the void his mother left behind.
“Perhaps, but that doesn't mean you stop living.”
“But,” the boy hugged his own legs, resting his chin on his knees. “What does ‘living’ truly mean?”
“It means you keep cherishing your brothers, your father, even though life is just a blink in the eyes of a tree and an eternity in the eyes of a mayfly. People live with borrowed time. Don't waste it.”
Mieczyslaw nodded as if he had heard the greatest truth in the whole universe; maybe he did.
“How can I call you? You never told me your name,” he asked with genuine curiosity.
The voice thought for a minute, and with a decided tone, he spoke.
“You shall call me Void.”)
Later, the brothers went in separate ways. Thomas went to live with some relatives. Stuart went to a school for sorcerers, and Mieczyslaw stayed with his father. They needed someone who could contain the Nogitsune, if needed.
Years passed, but they never lost touch.
Mieczyslaw, now called Stiles, became friends with the asthmatic boy with an uneven jaw, his first real friend that wasn’t a voice in his head.
But he never revealed the truth about his family and origins. Not even when Scott was bitten by a werewolf, nor when he formed a pack.
Things got complicated when they had to make the sacrifice to save his father, a hunter, and Scott’s mother. He knew his father was fine; he was a werewolf, though no one knew it either.
The Nogitsune inside Stiles went out of control.
Many suffered; some died.
They thought they had gotten rid of the Dark Fox.
But it remained inside him; it was part of him.
When his siblings found out, they came back to Beacon Hills.
The problem was that almost no one knew that Stiles had identical siblings, and that he actually knew more about the Supernatural World than others thought.