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He’s dying, he's dying and it hurts, but that isn't the problem. Death is not the problem. The problem is that he is dying of an Arachne’s venomous bite and there is a banshee in the next room who could possibly scream his secret to the world.
With a heavy sigh he splashes water into his face and turns back to the room where the others are conversing. His hands slid into his pockets and one tightly grasps his key so that it begins to dig into his flesh.
“I have to go,” Stiles says making his way to the door. “I can debrief with you tomorrow, but I have a few things I need to take care of at home.”
It's not a lie, he does need to take care of his death at home. Even if he hadn't, Stiles didn't live to be this old without learning how to lie to supernatural beings. He clenches his hand tighter.
“Alright, bye Stiles.” Scott says as he turns away to face Allison.
He's just walked out the door when he hears Derek mutter, “Did anyone else smell something burning?”
A small chuckle builds in his chest but he doesn't release it for fear that he’ll be heard by the wolves. Still, he shakes his head and climbs into his jeep.
“Does anyone smell something burning,” Stiles repeats mockingly when he's peeled away from the building. His shirt is beginning to catch on fire from rubbing against the embers in the puncture wounds from the Arachne’s fangs. He scowls down at the slowly growing flames,”Stop that! I still have to get to the apartment.”
The flames flicker out at once leaving only the glowing embers in his skin and an errant feather growing from his chest. He plucks it off and shoves it into his pocket as he pulls up to his own apartment building.
It's a close call, and Stiles barely makes it into his apartment before he hits the floor and everything begins to burn away, from the poison in his veins to the cells that compose this form. An inferno sparks and slowly Stiles surrenders himself to it until all there is is flame.
He awakens in his true, feathered shape, a small flame encompassing his body. Sighing, Stiles takes on his secondary form once more and makes his way to the calendar. He hopes he hasn’t lost too much time this rebirth, after all there wasn’t enough time to plan his excuses for his school absences.
Damn it, three days.
Stiles scrubs a hand over his face and begins to plan. The only reason he wasn’t discovered is because nobody in the pack knows his home address. Soon they’ll start asking questions and he’ll need to have answers.
As Stiles settles down to craft an excuse he allows another part of his brain to wander back towards the time interval of his rebirth. Three days is a long rebirth for something as simple as an Arachne’s poison and it isn’t as if he’s old enough to-. Wait, or is he? He has lost track after beginning his new life as a Stilinski, and finding the Hales.
A quick calculation finds that Stiles has passed the entrance age of the mating interval and his rebirths will continue to slow down until he finds his mate. Once he has one to watch over him as he experiences rebirth, his regeneration will speed up as he is able to spend more energy on rebirth rather than protection.
“Damn,” Stiles murmurs biting his nail. “Another problem to solve.”
He puts that situation aside for now as he gets ready for school. If he leaves soon he can make it to second period and stave off some of the suspicion that extending his absence would cause.
He gathers his tardy and slips into his second period silently, trying to avoid attention as much as possible. He knows he isn’t successful when he catches Allison’s eye and she raises a brow.
Stiles doesn’t manage to slip out of the class without Alli so he braces himself for the questions he knows are coming by turning his heart to flame so the beat cannot give him away.
“Hey,” Allison smiles at him. “Where have you been?”
Stiles offers an awkward smile, “Yeah, I’m sorry about the disappearing act. There was a death in the family.“
Scott appears with a confused frown, “Who? I thought you were emancipated.”
“I am,” Stiles informs him. “But only because my grandparents weren't in any condition to care for me, if they had been I’d have stayed with them.”
“Well, I’m sorry for your loss”. Allison’s sweet voice almost makes him feel guilty, but after several millennia of lies he squashes it easily enough.
The rest of the day is a blur, Stiles spending it attempting to decide what to do about his future mate now that he has no more distractions.
Eventually, he reaches the decision that his mate search will have to wait until this summer. He can’t miss more school without it appearing suspicious nor can he get in contact with the few remaining Phoenixes and arrange a courtship matching at any decent time.
Weeks pass in which Stiles forces himself to ignore the icy trickle creeping towards his inner flame. The pack faces threat after threat, each time with Stiles narrowly avoiding injuries which would demand a rebirth. He can not afford to miss more time without being required to share either the truth or yet another falsehood.
He’s gifted at lying, but he doesn’t like to do so.
The semester is almost over the next time he dies. It’s a Friday, and they’re out hunting down feral Phooka. They’ve all split up into pairs of two, and Stiles finds himself with Peter. He can’t help but groan a little, bit because he dislikes the man, the opposite is true in fact, but because Peter is more observant than the rest of the pack, and likely to notice something odd if Stiles is injured.
“Stiles,” Peter purrs and they prowl throughout the woods. “Have I told you that you’ve smelled positively delicious lately?”
“Can’t say that you have,” Stiles murmurs as his brain races, wondering what’s changed.
“Oh yes, ever since we fought the Arachne. I don’t know what changed, but you smell…. older, mature.”
Stiles laughs nervously, “Well, I guess it forced me to grow-“
He’s cut off as a dark black horse thunders into the clearing, it’s eyes glowing a bright gold. It’s doubtlessly the Phooka, and Stiles throws himself out of the way, in to the ground as it charges.
Peter shifts, pouncing towards the Phooka which rears up on its hind legs and kicks out with the front, catching Peter in the chest and sending him flying. The creature then turns to Stiles, still in the process of sitting up, and flails his hooves once again.
They catch him in the head, and Stiles can feel the rush of blood from his skull and the instant rush of heat filling the wound. The scent of burning hair permeates the air, and Stiles sighs as he realizes that he’ll be experiencing yet another rebirth, this time with Peter observing.
His secret already endangered, Stiles simply accepts the change, allowing himself to embrace his natural form. In his Phoenix form, he’s significantly more powerful, and he fights back against the Phooka with burning wings and talons, killing it before the rebirth takes him completely and he crumples into a pile of ash.
When he wakes up, it’s in a bed, far too soft and luxurious to be his own. He allows himself a moment to get her his thoughts, before getting up and padding into the kitchen where Peter is waiting with two cups of coffee.
“So, a Phoenix, huh?”