Chapter Text
Things at the Wolf Moon had gone so spectacularly wrong it was almost funny, but Stiles could do the math on this one just fine and there was going to be nothing funny about the fallout. Power vacuums like that one that just opened up didn’t stay empty for long. Worse, Talia’s empire was crumbling down around them. The other supernatural powers she had made alliances and treaties with were unlikely to let such a golden opportunity pass them by when it would be relatively easy to sweep in and claim her power and influence for themselves. When they did they would also find the Nemeton. He seriously doubted he could keep it hidden without Carloss’ help. It was massively unfair but the oath’s the guy had sworn prevented him from taking the Bite. The fact that it had happened against his will was a technicality as Stiles understood things. He was going to have to learn enough High Magick to manage on his own. Unfortunately between the ever growing influence of not!Kate and the dubious origins of his own power it was unlikely the White would agree with him. That left the Dark, a thoroughly terrifying notion. He had crossed a couple of lines lately, sure, but embracing the same evil power that had accompanied the demon that had invaded their home…that was a whole other kettle of fish. While all tat churning through his mind and the whopping amount of energy he’d expended fighting Carloss and forcing the werebear’s shift it was no wonder he passed out the second his butt hit the couch. He barely had the presence of mind to activate the house defenses.
A text alert woke him.
He pulled out his phone and looked at the screen. It was from Lydia, the underhanded manner in which he’d gotten a hold of her cell number was one of those lines he’d traipsed right on over. The massage was simple, a few mathematical squiggles he couldn’t interpret (and had no idea how she did that on a cell phone) and the words “Thank You”. He smiled remembering how he’d wracked his brains for the perfect I See You And Love You For Who You Are Please Go Out With Me gift. In the end he’d found some brain twisting mathematical equation a professor at MIT had concocted to torment his grad students. Lydia had solved it in less than forty-eight hours while attending high school, watching Lacrosse practice, and going to a Friday night party. It was a little scary, but Stiles was happy to see that at least something in his life was going the way he’d planned.
The glare reflecting off his phone shocked him out of his fuzzy pink reverie. It was day, late morning by the angle of the light streaming through the windows, and he was alone in the house. That wasn’t right. He checked the pack bond and only got more concerned. His best guess was the Aidan and Ethan were somewhere in town, probably still helping Carloss process his sudden change of species and ensuing murderfest (something he was trying not to think about himself, ick). He could barely sense the others at all, not even Derek, not even well enough to guess at a general direction.
His freak out was just building up a head of steam when his phone rang.
“Derek!?”
“Stiles, it’s Deaton. You need to come to clinic right now!” the vet screamed in obvious terror.
“What’s going on? Is Derek..”
“He’s here,” there was a loud crash and the sound of a woman screaming. “We can’t hold them off long! You have to…”
The line went dead.
Stiles hand clenched reflexively out of anger and fear, crushing the phone to splinters. His liking of the emissary, all emissaries, was at an all time low but the fuck he was going to let anyone attack his pack. Now that they were done with secrecy (mostly) he wasn’t going to hold back. Whoever had made the mistake of coming after them was going to beg for death before he through. He grabbed his keys and ran for the door while Kate applauded from the vaults of his mind.
He screeched to halt in front of the clinic and leapt from the Jeep without even turning off the engine and burst through the front door ignoring the “Closed” sign.
“Deaton!” he called rushing for the gate that led to back, only to be brought up short as he slammed into an invisible wall. In his haste he hadn’t even seen the ritual painted on the floor. He screamed in defiance and threw all his rage and power at the trap but it was no good. He was bound completely which meant…
“I’m truly sorry for this, Stiles,” Deaton said as he emerged from the back followed by Julia and Morell. They had used blood and hair plenty of times in their lessons. The vet must have kept a sample, which meant he had absolutely no hope of breaking a specifically attuned trap supported by the wills of three trained emissaries.
He cursed himself for his carelessness. Derek had sent him home for a reason; he’d gotten that much through his foggy brain the night before, but he hadn’t imagined the depth of the betrayal playing out in front of him. “You don’t understand what you’re doing.”
“There’s no other way. If you had come to, told me the truth maybe we could have found an alternative.”
“Ms. Morell,” he pled. “You’re supposed to be a Guidance Counselor, how can you go along with doing this to a student.”
“You were supposed to be a normal sixteen year old boy. You were never meant for this life. Our duty is to the Balance. It’s our job to correct the Hales’ mistake.”
He didn’t really know Julia, but the haunted, grief-stricken look on her face was all he needed to see to know that she wasn’t even there enough for him to reach. “I never asked for this, you know.”
“No?” Deaton asked sadly. “Talia said there was evidence someone had been frequenting the cellar beneath the Nemeton. It was you, wasn’t it?”
His old hidey hole was the site of the old Nemeton. Duh. Giant tree stump, weird ritual candles and jars full of funky-looking stuff. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to know. But Derek must have. If he lived through this the Alpha better have one hell of an explanation. “I went there to get away from…things.”
“After your Father died,” Deaton said with a nod, suspicions confirmed. “You have the gift. In your grief you wished for the power to defy life and death and the Nemeton responded even as it burned. The magic of a Faerie court. It’s a power you were never meant to have, that no man can have and survive it.”
Hells Bells, they didn’t know. They didn’t know about the cutting he had taken from the great tree or that the Nemeton had been rebuilt. If they stripped him of his power it wouldn’t ground out harmlessly into the earth. Instead, it would rush back into the tree and shatter the containing enchantments. Without Carloss to repair them Beacon Hills would become ground zero for an explosion of supernatural mayhem. “Please, I can handle it. I can swear limiting oaths if I have to. If you strip the power for me like this it will kill me.”
The vet at least had the grace to look guilty. “I’ll do my best.”
Apparently that was all the lame apology he was going to get. He thought furiously, desperately searching for a way out of this mess. Force was out, that left cunning. He had nothing. In all likelihood he was about to die, leaving his pack to face the clusterfuck he was largely responsible for. The hell he was going to let that happen. Scott would never forgive himself and Derek…he didn’t know what exactly. There was no word for their relationship, even Alpha and second didn’t describe it. Stiles had come feel closer to the man than anyone else, ever, even his parents. If their situations were reversed losing Derek like this would destroy him, either that or turn him into something dark and unrecognizable.
Some impulse compelled him to put his hand in his pocket as the druids began the chant that would end his life. He felt the cool stone of the turquoise bear. The last time he had seen it was when Carloss coughed it up like a hairball and had no idea whatsoever how it got there, but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
He could feel the spell begin to pull at him, shearing away at the edges of his spirit. The talisman in his hand was powerful but not at all designed for what he had in mind. He sent his thoughts down to the artificial elemental entity that dwelt within and believed as hard as he could that it could do what he needed. For a second it seemed to glimmer as the emissaries shouted out the end of their chant.
He fell to the ground limply. Whether his desperate gamble had worked or
not the power was gone, leaving him burned out and broken.
“Hurry, he’s still alive! We have to…”
Deaton’s voice was lost, drowned out by the ringing in his ears. A far as deaths went he supposed it could have been worse, although that annoying ringing was rising to a buzzing, then a shaking. He felt one last feeble flicker of hope return to him when he realized it wasn’t his head that was vibrating like a tuning fork. It was the floor.
The emissaries staggered as great gaping rents appeared in the linoleum. “What is this?” Julia wailed.
The mini quake cut off as the door opened with a merry jangling of bells.
“Heya Doc,” Carloss greeted brightly. “Do you take walk-ins?”
“You!” Julia hissed.
The…whatever the hell the man was now looked at her intently for a second with glowing emerald eyes and she dropped like a marionette with its strings cut. Stiles had been developing his supernatural senses but he imagined even a regular human would have felt it when the man dropped down and performed that grounding gesture he was so fond of. A pulse of gentle energy rippled out, leaving absolutely nothing in its place. The clinic was Deaton’s place of power and Carloss had erased it utterly. “You’re looking a bit worse for wear kid.”
Stiles tried for pithy but couldn’t quite find his tongue. At least until the man laid a hand on his chest and sent of jolt of wonderful, vibrant, surprisingly painful life through him. “Motherfucking son a of bitch that hurt!”
“Life is pain?”
He narrowed his eyes as threateningly as he could manage.
Carloss gave him a glowing smile. “Better. As for you Doc, I think you might want to consider relocating your practice.”
Deaton’s face was ashen. “Stiles...what have you done?”
He put on his most insulting smirk. “You said it was Faerie magic, too much for a man to handle. I figured an Alpha werebear with fairy blood was as good a place to put it as any.”
“Thanks, by the way.”
“No problem.”
“And what do plan to do now, Carloss?” Morell asked haughtily. “Will you finish what you started? Wipe out the remaining packs? The emissaries? The Hunters? How many more will have to die to satisfy your lust for blood and power?”
“Lady, the only thing I’m lusting for is a slice of my favorite gluten free vegan pizza.”
Stiles’ face twisted up in horror. “That’s just plain wrong. Deaton, I take it back. He’s clearly evil. Sic em!”
The vet looked like he was having an aneurysm. “Stiles this isn’t funny!”
Carloss groaned in exasperation. “Let’s move this along, shall we. When you wake up you can stay or go, I don’t really care. Until yesterday I’d never so much as slapped another person outside of a sparring mat; you don’t have to fear any violence from me. That said, if you are intent on toying with people’s lives you may find this an inhospitable place to live.” The man made an imperious gesture and the two emissaries still standing melted to the floor asleep.
Stiles suddenly felt overwhelmed with surreality of the last twelve hours. “So…now what?”
“Your pack is out cold in the other room. They’ll wake up in a little while. That was pretty clever sending Chris to carry your power to me through the earth.”
“Chris?” he asked bewildered.
“You know, Scrubs? Turquoise bear. Turq. Turk. Christopher Turk. Chocolate bear. Turquoise bear. Even synthetic spirits require names to be directed.”
Stiles figured he had finally met his match in geeky TV references. “I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess you’re not giving all that power back.”
Carloss gave him an arch look. “Do you really want it?”
That brought him up short. He’d been intent on keeping it, ostensibly to keep himself and his loved ones safe. It hadn’t exactly worked out that way. “What will you do with it?” he hedged.
“Take it off the board; there are enough pieces in play as it is and I don’t care to be one of them.”
“So you want to just cut and run? After…everything?”
“Don’t look so butthurt,” the man said with an eyeroll. “I’m not going anywhere, precisely, I’m just going step back for a while.”
He was so sick of cryptic. “And that mans what exactly?”
“What do bears do when things get dark?”
“You’re going to hibernate?” he asked incredulously.
“I’m going to move the Nemeton to a safe place where I can adjust to my new…me.”
“Move the…” he sputtered, “You know what? Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Take the Tree of Doom. It’ll be a relief, actually. Although I’m not sure how I’m going get by now that I’m just the token human,” he said morosely.
Carloss threw back his head and shook dust from the ceiling with his booming guffaws.
“And now you’re laughing at me, great.”
“Sorry,” the man wheezed, “It’s just too funny. Stiles you are the most dangerous person I know and it has nothing to do with stolen Faerie magic.”
“Come again?
“You’ll figure it out. In the mean time, you gave me a gift and a burden. I would like to answer in kind.”
Alarm bells started going off. “You’re talking all formal. Bad things happen when supernaturals make with the flowery language.”
The bear extended his claws and shrugged apologetically.
“Of course, more claws in the neck.”
“I promise it won’t hurt a bit. This town needs someone to protect it, someone who doesn’t give a damn about politics or personal gain. I can give you what you need to be that person.”
It wasn’t a tempting offer. It was hella crazy. It was also the only choice he could make that would let him sleep at night. “Do it.”
“One thing first. While I sleep you may see…reflections of me as I explore my connection with the land. You cannot wake me before time, the summer solstice at the latest. Sticks and sleeping bears and all that.”
“What if something happens?”
“If you need to get a message to me make an offering to the earth and it will carry it to me. If you absolutely have to reach me in person the five of you together will be able to open the way.”
Apparently the Twins didn’t count or something. “And you’re not going to explain that at all.”
“I would never forgive myself for making your life boring,” Carloss replied wryly. “Remember: the Equinox.”
The bear’s eyes glowed as he struck, not with his clawed hand but with the other, pulling Stiles in and planting a searing kiss on him. And it was searing, like drinking hot lava. As promised he barely felt it when the claws sank in. He couldn’t have said how long it lasted but when he opened his eyes Carloss was gone and there was no trace of the punctures on the back of his neck.
“Well that was a hell of thing,” he told the unconscious emissaries.
The Twins burst through the clinic doors.
“What’s going on? Where’s Carloss?” Ethan demanded, eyes glowing.
“That’s kind of long story,” he replied gesturing to the remains of the spell and the slumbering people. “We need to wake the others first?”
The rest of the pack was laid out on pallets in the back room, save for Scott who was snoring peacefully on top of the exam table.
“They’re so cute when they’re sleeping,” he observed.
“Here, try this,” Aidan said scooping something off a cabinet.
Stiles accepted the thin metal cylinder with glee. “A dog whistle? That’s too perfect. You might want to cover your eats.”
He blew three sharp blasts, waking the wolves in a flurry of snarling and slashing. Scott flailed his way right off the table and landed on the girls.
“Stiles! What the hell is wrong with you!?” Derek yelled, doing a double take when the initial shock wore off. “Stiles!” The Alpha had him in a bone-crushing hug before he could blink.
“We have to stop meeting like this. I’m okay big guy,” he wheezed. “Careful, not invincible anymore.”
Derek relaxed fractionally. “What happened?”
“A little help down here?” Cora growled, hopelessly tangled with Scott, Laura, and a pile of shredded blankets.
“Stiles! You’re okay!” came Scott’s voice, muffled by the fabric that was wrapped around his face mummy-like.
“I’m fine, buddy.”
“Back to the explaining please,” Ethan prompted tersely.
“I’ll keep it short for now. We’ve got places to be.”
He gave them a quick rundown while they unwound the Betas. Cora and Laura had a hard time wrapping their heads around everything since they’d missed the fight with Bear Kong.
“So Carloss got turned into a bear, went on a killing spree, and then you handed over ultimate power sending him off to vacation in super-consciousness?” Laura asked, voice tight with disbelief.
“That’s the gist of it.”
“Well as long we’re clear.”
“And you,” he said rounding on Derek. “If you and Carloss had told me about your secret research we might have been able to sort this out a hell of a lot sooner. I was looking for that damn book for weeks and you had it the whole time!”
“I didn’t want you to worry?” the Alpha said sheepishly.
“Why a bear?” Scott wondered aloud. “Why didn’t the Bite turn him into a wolf?”
“It happens that way some time,” he replied.
“Sometimes the shape you take reflects the kind of person that you are,” Derek added.
“That’s beautiful little brother,” Laura drawled. “Powerful internal conflicts or extremely independent personality types occasionally override the nascent connection to the Alpha that administers the Bite,” she clarified.
“I need to hang out with some lower I.Q.’s,” Scott grumbled.
“Don’t feel bad,” Cora said soothingly, “They’re just pretending to know what the hell they’re talking about.”
“Can’t really argue with that,” he muttered. “Okay!” he barked, clapping his hands together sharply. “Who wants to draw on a Druid’s face with a sharpie before we head out?”
Wolf!Con must have ground to a screeching halt after the nights events because they passed a mass exodus of cars on the road to the Hale house. With five people crammed into the Jeep there wasn’t really enough room to edge away from the procession of angry glares but they gave it their best try. It wasn’t hard to guess what the last straw had been for the werewolves; even Stiles’ human nose could smell it: a fetid stench of decay that the chill air did nothing to mitigate. The closer they got to the House the worse it got. Everywhere they looked they saw death, even the evergreens were browning, raining needles by the millions right before their eyes. Worse, hostility radiated from the earth itself, like it was devouring everything that stood on its surface it a furious effort to swallow the insouciant werewolves that dared set foot on it. Stiles could tell it wasn’t directed at him and his pack but simply being on the edge of it made his hair stand on end.
“Methinks Carloss doth protested too much when he said he wasn’t into holding grudges.”
“I saw inside his head while he was in mine,” Derek growled. Was it his imagination or did the man sound defensive of the werebear-faerie-nature-god-thing? “He has issues with betrayal. After what my Mother and Deaton tried…”
Stiles understood that well enough, but if this was what Carloss had meant by “reflections” then they were in for an interesting five months. “How are we going to handle this?”
“I don’t know.”
“Mom’s proud,” Cora hedged. “She won’t just walk away from her territory willingly but…”
“How could anyone live here now?” Scott finished.
The clearing around the House was only place that still had life in it. Centuries of habitation and innumerable blessings from attendant emissaries must have left a mark because the winter flowers still grew in a rainbow of cheery colors, probably only because plants didn’t have a sense of smell. The Hales certainly did. At least Stiles hoped that the revulsion twisting their faces as they stood arrayed in front the house was for the stench and not for him. When they pulled to a stop the remaining visiting wolves suddenly found elsewheres to be, vanishing as quickly as any witch with a cloaking spell.
Derek’s face was even but Stiles could feel him and the guy was a mess of conflicting emotions. He hated the part he’d played in driving a wedge between him and his family. “Go talk with them. I have something I have to do and this is a Hale thing. Scott?”
“I’ve got his back.”
The Alpha gave him a questioning look, sighed and said. “I don’t want you going off alone.”
“The Twins’ll keep me company. No heroics or magical mayhem, promise.”
Derek nodded stiffly but didn’t argue.
He got out of the Jeep and walked over to Aidan and Ethan waiting uncomfortably by their bikes. “Feel like a run?”
The talisman Carloss had given him lent him speed and endurance but did nothing whatsoever to lessen the burn in his legs or the harsh scraping of the winter air in his lungs. It was fantastic. He felt really, truly, human for the first time in a month. His doubts about giving up all that power slipped away as he ran and reveled in the sensations coming from his wonderfully mortal body. It took a lot longer to reach the Nemeton but he didn’t mind one bit.
“So, what’s this about?” Aidan asked looking around the empty clearing.
Ethan sniffed the air. “I smell him. Is this…that place?”
“Yeah.” He walked over to a beaten up backpack hanging from a low branch, Carloss’ cane dangling from the straps. “This is what we need,” he said taking it down and slinging it around his shoulders. He untied the cane and ran his hands over the polished surface of the rowan wood. It was warm to the touch, like it was his. He started to turn and felt a faint pressure. “What the..?”
“What is it? I seem to recall you promising Derek no magical mayhem,” Aidan said drily.
“I’m not sure.” He waved the cane slowly back and forth. Every time it tingled a little as it passed through a certain point. “Huh, it’s like a divining rod. I think we should go this way.”
“Bad. Idea.”
“You’ve been spending too much time with Derek. Just trust me.”
“You’re the second. Glad you finally figured that out by the way.”
“Just follow me,” he snapped. It was one thing holding that rank in the pack when he could crush anyone who challenged him. He seriously doubted the Twins would try and press a claim but it was a little uncomfortable being the titular superior to two Alphas.
The source of the strange pull was only a few yards off but he got the distinct impression that he never would have found it without help.
“What the hell?” Ethan whispered, looking at the…well, cabin was the closest word. The building was more like a large hut assembled from logs, stones, and sealed with clay. It had been built into the side of a steep rise so that from any direction but straight on the fallen leaves that covered the roof made it all but invisible. Once he got within ten feet or so he let out a deep sigh like he was sliding into a hot tub at the end of a long day.
“This must be where Carloss lived when he first moved to town.” He walked forward cautiously and pulled open the door, heart leaping when he saw what was inside.
“Uh, Stiles?” Aidan asked nervously.
He turned around and saw the Twins stuck behind an invisible line. “Oh, right. Aidan, Ethan, please come in,” he invited, suppressing a laugh when they stumbled forward as the restraining force vanished. He took a deep breath and went in. Inside the air smelled of dry herbs and rich earth. A bed lay in one corner covered in a mishmash of blankets with a rolled up sleeping bag for a pillow. A trunk sat at the foot and a table and stool made of sticks lashed with heavy twine comprised the rest of the furniture. “It’s very…um…rustic.”
Aidan looked around curiously, eyes flashing in the dim light, but his brother looked sad. “He never said…”
Stiles felt like a cad. Being here was weird enough for him but Ethan and Carloss had been…something, or maybe on the way to being something and the Alpha was obviously distressed. “Hey, he’s not gone. We’ll see him again.”
“He just left. When we got him home last night…it was hours before he could even speak. He put on a good show for Talia but I’ve never seen anyone look so broken.”
“We killed a lot of people when we took out our pack,” Aidan continued. “At the time we told ourselves it was the only way but the truth is we enjoyed paying those bastards back for what they did to us.”
“But what happened to him was different.”
“I’m not so sure it was,” he said quietly. “He was so angry. I was only feeling it secondhand but I could barely think. He was strong; the Bite never would have taken unless he chose it.”
“So what, he should have died instead? That’s not fair!” Ethan snarled, anger fading into bitter laughter at his own words. “But what about any of this has ever been fair?”
“You’re asking the wrong person,” he agreed. “Let’s see what’s in the trunk. Wow, jackpot.” It was packed full of magical odds and ends. He carefully started pulling things out and laying them on the bed. “Books, herbs, and hello, his weapons!”
“Weapons?” Aidan asked dubiously. “That’s a cup, with paint on it.”
“It’s a metaphor,” he replied with sage look.
“Sure.”
“What are you going to do with them?” Ethan wondered.
“Use them. I think these are mine now. This isn’t gonna sound right but when he did the claws in the neck thing he kissed me and I think he gave me his soul.”
“He kissed you?”
“Way to focus on the important bit, E,” Aidan drawled. “So you’re sucking people’s souls now?”
“It’s not like it sounds,” he huffed. “There’s no word for it in English. It’s that divine spark or whatever that let’s humans do this kind of magic. It’s also why the faerie magic was killing me, but it won’t be a problem for him now. Hoo boy,” he exclaimed, pulling out a group of leather bound books. Three of them were filled writing, drawings of seals, and tables filled with the odd symbols that Carloss used in his magic. “I think this is the grimoire he wrote. And this,” he said holding up a much thicker volume, “Is his journal.”
“Isn’t that kind of personal?” Ethan asked sourly. “What is that written in anyway, Norse?”
“It’s Latin written in proto-Italic runes,” he answered automatically.
“You can read that?” Aidan asked.
“Huh, no. But when I look at this I understand what it says. Weird.” He picked up the grimoire and flipped through it quickly. “I can only make out a couple of these.” It looked like he had a new hobby. “Let’s pack this stuff up.”
They found a duffle bag under the bed and carefully piled in the books and heavier objects, leaving the fragile glass jars of herbs and liquids for the backpack. As they walked away from the cabin the sense of warmth began to fade, the gentle power that had sheltered the magician’s retreat melting away until there was nothing left but the normal background sensations of the forest.
Ethan stopped and looked back. “We just talked, all night, and I thought…”
Stiles knew he was probably going to regret it but he couldn’t stand the look on his packmate’s face. It was a pack thing. “He told me if you need to speak to him you can make an offering to the earth and he’ll hear.”
“An offering.”
“Yeah. Blood, I think. Mother Nature’s kind of old school.” The hopeful look on the Alpha’s face made him a little uneasy. “Listen, even after he comes back…after everything that happened to him, after what he’s become, he might not be the same.”
“I don’t know,” Aidan mused. “When we fought him in the woods he should have crushed us like insects. Even when he was totally out of control he recognized us and wanted us to stop him.”
Maybe they had a point. In the mean time he had his own control issue to sort out and was desperate to delve into the grimoire.
***
The mood in the pack house was subdued. Stiles’ first thought was a rousing movie marathon, but after looking through his collection he hit a bit of a snag. Once he eliminated everything that featured revenge, family drama, supernatural politics, and people getting monsterfied there was practically nothing left. In the end they wound up sitting around the living room in morose silence while Bones ran on Netflix. Cora had Scott and Aidan pulled so tight to her sides on the couch they were in danger of fusing into a single organism. Laura and Ethan sat together on the love seat, but despite the reassuring physical contact they were obviously both off in different universes mentally. And Derek…the Alpha sat in the recliner gripping the armrests like he was about to blast into to orbit. Stiles was afraid to carry anything metal too close lest he be struck by an errant bolt from the thundercloud brewing over the man’s head.
He sat on the floor in front of the coffee table pouring over the grimoire, doing his best to translate the parts that weren’t readily understandable. It was slow going. By the time they all drifted off to their own rooms he’d barely managed much more than deciphering the titles. He had something more important to do just then.
Derek was sitting on the edge of the bed. Stiles’ bed. “They’re all leaving. My family has lived on this territory for over two hundred years, we founded Beacon Hills, and now they’re being driven out because of me.”
“If there’s one person in all of this who isn’t to blame it’s you,” he said plopping down next to him and rubbing a hand between his shoulder blades.
“I’m the Alpha now; it’s all on me,” the werewolf grumbled, but leaned back into the touch gratefully.
“Talia wanted power. I wanted power. Carloss wanted power. You were only trying to look after your pack.”
“And if I hadn’t been dumb enough to try and take on a Faerie queen and her handmaidens alone you never would have been involved in the first place.”
The talisman may not have given him the strength he was used to but it was more than enough to send Derek sprawling on the floor when he gave him a stiff shove. “Listen up you self-flagellating failwolf. If it weren’t for you I would be alone, in Foster Care, or sending Melissa into a debt spiral. You gave a family again you stupid ass and if you ever so much as think about apologizing for that I swear to God I will fucking neuter you.”
The Alpha’s slack-jawed expression of shock melted into a lopsided smile. “Okay.”
He nodded sharply and sniffled a little. Stupid tear ducts. “It’s late. Get on the bed.”
“Second my ass,” the man muttered. The bed wasn’t exactly spacious but with a little wiggling Stiles managed to situate himself with the larger man partway on top of him, head resting on his shoulder. “This is weird,” Derek complained.
“My bed my rules big guy. Now shut up and let me comfort you.”
They were silent for a long time, bit by bit moving into a more comfortable position until they were half hugging.
“It’s not just my family, you know,” Derek said softly. “You keep almost dying. And now that you don’t have your power anymore…”
Stiles carded his fingers through the man’s hair and scooted closer. “I’m not going anywhere, promise. I can’t make those super talismans Carloss made without the power boost but I still have his old ones. Besides, magic combines exponentially. Broken oaths or not, sacrificing his strength and giving it to me like that was a big deal. I’ll be a mystical badass again; I just have to learn how first.”
“That’s frightening on multiple levels.”
“Hey!”
Derek made a chuffing sound and squirmed a bit. “I’m just worried we won’t have time. Deucalion’s territory is already being pressured. Omegas are coming out of the woodwork. Chris is trying to keep the Hunters in line but they’ve pretty much split in half. One side thinks his peace initiative was genius. Stand back and let us kill ourselves. The other half wants a crusade saying what’s happened is proof that we’re too dangerous to be allowed to live. It’s been twenty four hours and already group of them attacked and killed a couple of wolves from back in their dorm at UC Davis. The Argents are going to make an example of them.”
“Asshole bigots. I found something in Carloss’ grimoire that might help with them if it comes to that,” he said darkly.
“His spellbook?”
“Not the same thing. He wrote it in three volumes that have to be read together and even then the language is infuriatingly poetical.”
“He was afraid of someone reading it?” Derek guessed.
“Before he left he said I was the most dangerous person he knew. I think that was a warning about this book. If someone actually pulled off every ritual in there…” he trailed off with a shudder. Threatening the Hunters with that particular ritual was just that: a threat, and an empty one. “Technically it’s all White Magic but a lot of this stuff is really dark, just not, you know, Dark.”
“Thanks for clearing that up. I don’t want you messing with the Dark stuff. Black Witchcraft is bad enough but Black High Magick…those stories don’t even make it into legend.”
“Probably because there’s nobody left alive to tell them.” He meant it as a joke but Derek’s chest rumbled in agreement. Sheesh. “There were other books in his cabin, the one’s he learned from. I’m planning on taking oaths as soon as I can.”
Naturally the werewolf tensed when he said that. Apparently the guy could smell omission. “Why do you have to wait?”
He considered trying to evade the question given Derek’s current frame of mind but… “I’ve been hearing her, it, again. The ritual I need to exorcise her crazy demonic ass is one of the few I can actually make out.”
“If you need anything from me…” the Alpha said twisting his head around to look him dead in the eye.
He felt like blushing from the fervor he saw, doubly so when he realized it was mutual. He gulped. “It’s not that. Separating out the darkness inside me isn’t as simple as waving around a crucifix and spitting out some pea soup. It’s a part of me, Derek, and I have less than two months to get ready.”
“Why two months?”
“The Spring Equinox, it’s the most powerful time to do the ritual, especially since I won’t have as much skill as I should.”
“So we’ll train. All of us. Now that there are only three packs with Alphas we’ll need to be ready.”
“Actually there’s something that might help with that. Get up for a second.”
He slithered out from under Derek and took a book out the drawer of his nightstand. He’d stuck it in there first thing when he’d gotten back. The small volume had the kind of generic green binding you’d find in libraries.
“I know this,” the Alpha said amazed. “It…it was important to him.”
“Yeah, look.” He opened the front cover and pointed at the old fashioned lending card glued to it. Carloss’ name was written in the lowest slot, the first name blacked out. “It’s a book about werewolves from an elementary school library. I think it’s what first got him interested in all this. And look…” he flipped to a diagram in the middle section. “This describes a High Magick ritual to actually create werewolves. Check at the lettering in the circle.”
“Ancient Greek. Do you think..?”
“Maybe. Some of the ancient Hebrews could have made their way to Greece. This ritual could be the basis for the myth of Lycaon. This is just a partial account, though. There’s got to be something in the grimoire.” It was going to drive him nuts, but he suspected Carloss had purposely made it so the true meaning of his works would only become available over time.
“What the hell was this doing in an elementary school?” Derek wondered aloud.
“Beats me.” He flipped back to the front cover and ran a finger over the blacked out name. “You know I never even asked what his first name was?”
“Is. It is Gerhardt. Gerhardt Arthfael Carloss. It took me a while to piece together but I think we had a sort of conversation while we were connected and I got that much.”
“Holy crap, no wonder why he went by his last name only. I can think of twenty of nicknames off the top of my head. The school kids must have gotten a lot of mileage out of “Get Hard”, but what the hell is “Arthfael”?”
Derek actually snickered a little. “It’s Welsh. It means “The Great Bear”.”
“Well how about that.”
They talked a while longer but he was one hundred percent human again and actually had to sleep. Derek was still there when he woke up the next day, arm and leg slung over him and head resting on his chest just over his heart.