Reading Time: 101 Minutes

Title: Again With Experience
Author: penumbria
Fandom: Teen Wolf, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Apocalypse, Crossover, Future Fic / Post-Canon, Paranormal/Supernatural, Shifters, Time Travel
Relationship(s): Gen, Stiles Stilinski & Peter Hale, Stiles Stilinski & Noah Stilinski
Content Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Major Character Death, Violence – Graphic, Violence – Domestic and/or Against Children , The major character death refers to those lost in the Snap and its aftermath in both fandoms. The violence against children is for a brief mention of cult insanity actions in the post-Snap world. It is one discussion but harsh. There is reference to canon and fanon past statutory rapes of various characters from Teen Wolf but nothing even close to onscreen. The graphic violence is of canon level in both fandoms.
Author Note: The story starts several years post-Teen Wolf canon but basically ignores all events of 6B and after. It is synced up timeline-wise with MCU canon years. OC character Ralph Vilkas borrowed with the permission of HarleyJQuin (her fan cast of him is Colin O’Donoghue).
Beta: Grammarly
Word Count: 49,000
Summary: 14,000,605 futures and only 1 way to win? Looking at the future only works if you are looking in the right direction and at the right people. Stiles Stilinski watched those in his life turn to literal ashes before his eyes and learned the real truth of what had happened from his mother’s half-brother but he wasn’t about to let the world end. He was going to do it again with experience.
Artist: Librarycat9

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Chapter 1

Thursday, March 29, 2018

Beacon Hills, California

 

Stiles sat in a chair in Scott’s apartment, listening to Liam and Corey argue about which of their colleges was better. The college-aged pack members, all in their junior year, Liam, Corey, Mason, and Hayden were home for the Easter holiday. Pack meetings were always more loud when they were around.

Though Scott would be back in college in the fall but for grad school in veterinary medicine. He was working as a vet tech for a year to save money after getting his degree in animal biology.

Sometimes being in the pack meetings made Stiles feel a lot older than his 23 years, like a crotchety old man yelling get off my lawn. But he wasn’t the only one to dislike it. Lydia was skipping this meeting claiming a headache, Parrish was on duty, and Peter only came to meetings once a quarter, unless a major problem was happening.

Stiles wished he could have skipped but he was off duty today and Scott expected him to be available for pack meetings and needs whenever he wasn’t working. Not that there had been any major issues in the past three years. Peter was very good at being a shadow left hand, even from a town over. Stiles knew he dealt with a lot of the shit that headed their way but Scott had no idea. And he wouldn’t approve of it, either.

Malia was rubbing Scott’s shoulders and scratching his head while he ignored his betas’ argument. Theo was in the kitchen getting drinks because he didn’t get involved in petty shit. Unless he was the one to start the petty shit. Mason was in the corner with his head buried in a book Stiles had gotten him about magical pests. And Hayden was sitting between Liam and Corey and looking like she wanted to smack them both upside their heads.

Stiles sighed soundlessly and looked towards the window. This was so boring and there was no need for him to be here listening to this nonsense.

Out of the corner of his eye, Stiles saw Theo stumble and he turned his head. Theo fell to a knee and grabbed his chest. “What? I – Scott!”

Theo’s hands began turning to dust followed by the rest of him until he was gone. Stiles scrambled to his feet on his way to where Theo had been when Scott led out a roar. Stiles looked over and saw Malia embracing Scott as she disappeared. And Scott’s roaring mouth turned to dust and ash as his head and body followed. By the time Stiles turned around from the gruesome sight, the spot where Mason had been was empty of all but some flakes of ash. And the spot between Liam and Corey was empty.

Liam was gasping and shivering and Corey simply blinked and shook his head. Corey fell to dust between one blink and the next and several seconds later Liam turned to Stiles. “What’s happening, Stiles? It hurts.”

Stiles could do nothing but watch as Liam slowly disintegrated before his eyes, leaving Stiles alone in the apartment. He stood stiffly, waiting for the end, but minutes passed and he didn’t feel any different, other than hollower inside.

Stiles wasn’t sure why this attack hadn’t taken him, too. It wasn’t that it only hit the supernaturals because Mason was gone. He supposed his magic could have stopped the attack.

Or if it was an attack just against the McCall pack, it was possible it missed him because Stiles knew sometimes Scott still didn’t consider him a proper member of the pack. The wounds of Allison’s death and Donovan’s death and Theo’s manipulations still bled between them.

Stiles had no idea where to start. It certainly had looked like they had all died. And Liam had said it hurt. But it could have been a really fucked up transport spell. Stiles had research to do but all of his stuff was at home.

Stiles bit his lip and blew out a breath before he turned and left the apartment, locking the door behind him. He wasn’t abandoning them. He wasn’t! He just needed to find more information about who had attacked the pack and how.

As Stiles walked into the street towards his car, he stopped dead. There were flakes of ash drifting through the air and he could hear people screaming. He looked up the street and saw a car that had crashed into the side of the dry cleaners.

Stiles hurried to the car and was about to wrench open the door to help a likely injured driver when he saw the driver’s seat was empty. Except for some ash particles and dust.

Stiles spun around and looked more closely at things in the street. He could see signs of missing people all around now that he was paying attention. Dropped packages, an empty leash, spilled coffees, half-open doors.

Whoever had attacked either hadn’t been aiming at the pack after all or their power level and aim was way too broad. Stiles hurried to the car he had bought two years before to replace his old Jeep when it finally died for the last time. He slid inside and drove slowly towards, not home, but the station. This wasn’t something that could be hidden or covered up anymore.

Stiles turned the corner and saw the first sign of life. There was a toddler, about three years old, wandering down the street. Alone. Stiles got out of his car and went to the little girl and after a brief time of her asking about her mommy, he led her to the daycare back on the corner of Scott’s block.

When he got her inside, Stiles discovered that two of the five adults and four of the twenty-six children that they watched had disappeared as the pack had. He told them he didn’t know what was happening but to shelter in place. They agreed to watch the little girl and Stiles headed back to his car.

During the usually eight-minute drive to the station from Scott’s, Stiles had to stop to help people three more times, including putting out a car fire and helping to free a passenger and a child from the car. The trip took him over half an hour.

Stiles walked into disorganized chaos in the sheriff’s station. Obviously, things had happened here as well and Stiles feared for what he was about to hear considering how crazy everyone was acting.

Stiles spotted Parrish at his desk and walked over. “Sit rep?”

Parrish looked at him, his eyes wet. “Something happened about thirty minutes ago and some people just – turned to dust. The sheriff was one of them.”

Stiles drew in a deep breath and shuddered. He closed his eyes for a moment and then grit his teeth. “Okay, mourn later. The same thing happened at Scott’s but more so. I’m the only one left.”

Parrish blinked back more tears. “Everyone?”

Stiles shrugged. “Well, Lydia and Peter weren’t there, so I don’t know about them, but everyone else, yeah.”

Stiles turned around to face the room. “Alright, everyone just stop!” His voice thundered over the chaos. People came to a stop and looked at him.

“Everyone knows that something strange happened. I can tell you that it wasn’t confined to the station. It seems to have happened all over Beacon Hills. I know what it looked like but I don’t know what it was. All of these people could be dead but it could have been some crazy alien transportation shit. Until we know for sure, we need to deal with what is in front of us. And if it was what it appeared, we’ll deal with that when we have space to breathe.”

Across the room, a deputy stepped into the bullpen from the break room. “I was watching the TV. This isn’t just Beacon Hills or Beacon County or even just California. They’ve been showing clips from cell phones and security feeds from all over the world – LA and New York and DC and Miami and Houston and Toronto and London and Quebec and Rome and Moscow and New Delhi and Tokyo and Sydney and even Beijing. There is nowhere that has reported not having this happen. The news even is showing clips of what happened on their live broadcast, one of the anchors and two of the people they were interviewing disappeared. There’s been no official statements or anything, from like the President or the Avengers or the UN.”

Another deputy chimed in. “But there was that alien spaceship in New York yesterday and those aliens who abducted that guy in the cape. And Iron Man and Spider-Man went after them and were in the ship when it left. Did they get back yet? Or did they get killed, too?”

Stiles holds up his hands. “Speculation is pointless right now. Just leave it to the talking heads on the TV, it’s what they’re paid for. We need to focus on what we’re paid for and that’s the disaster in front of us. We need all hands on deck. Get on the phones and radios, contact anyone out on patrol and get them back here as soon as they can manage. If you can’t reach someone, track their patrol car’s GPS and make a note of its location. And call in everyone who isn’t on duty right now. I don’t care if they just went home a couple of hours ago after their shift. We need everyone here to coordinate a response to this. And if it really is worldwide then we can’t expect anyone to help us from another county, city, or even state. Anyone who doesn’t answer their phones, radios, whatever, try everything, and then if still no contact, make a note. We need to know our manpower situation before we start with anything outside the station.”

Parrish nodded. “Stiles is right. You know he’s taken classes and had those internships dealing with major disaster response. This is bigger than an earthquake or mudslide or forest fire. And we need to deal with it.”

Stiles waved a hand. “There’s going to be lots of crashed cars out there whose drivers vanished. And wandering kids who’ve lost their parents or babysitters. Be thankful we aren’t near an airport, major or otherwise, and the regular jet routes don’t fly over us.”

Several deputies let out gasps as the impact hit them. “Yeah, I suspect LAX and others like LaGuardia and O’Hare and Heathrow are major disaster areas of their own. And the areas around them. But we’ll have our own issues to deal with. Once we know our situation, we need to contact dispatch and find out theirs. Do they have enough dispatchers to send out assistance and coordinate us, Fire, and EMT? Do Fire and EMT have any firefighters and paramedics left? What about the hospital? The nursing home? Luckily, it is Easter break so schools are out but daycares aren’t. Are there any daycares or child care centers that lost all of the adults? After we are ready we need to check all of those places, commercial first and then door to door, especially for anyone who you know has children under twelve or people with needs that can’t care for themselves for any reason. Eventually, we’ll have to go door to door to every house in the county.”

Stiles looked around the room and met the eyes of as many as he could. “But for now, we put on our own oxygen masks first. Once we know our own numbers, you can try to contact friends and family. From here. Spouses, kids, parents, grandparents, siblings, babysitters, whatever. But use text or phone calls. Right now everyone is relatively calm and in shock and scared and unsure of what is happening. But that calm won’t hold. We’ll get looters for sure. Maybe rioters, if people start coming up with conspiracy theories and believing them.”

Stiles took a deep breath. “This isn’t going to go away quickly. Something this major, this widespread, the impacts will last for years or decades. Or more. But the immediate impacts will be days, maybe a week or more before we can chance not being here and not having everyone ready to jump if needed. So, once we are ready to go out, stop by your places quickly, grab several changes of clothes, toiletries, medications, whatever you need for a sleepover lasting days. Because that is what we have to do. And when you contact those who are off duty or currently on patrol, tell them to do the same before they head in. Those who were on last shift will stay here manning the phones and building while the rest of us hit the streets. I’ll figure out a grid for everyone to use. Now, let’s get moving.”

Parrish nodded. “Stiles, you should call dispatch, let them know our current status and plans. We’ll start calling everyone else.”

Stiles nodded and walked over to his desk. He grabbed his desk phone and dialed dispatch. While it rang, Stiles set his cell on the top of his desk and typed a quick text to Lydia and Peter. “I’m still here, so is Parrish. We’re at the station for now but not for long. No one else in the pack made it. Check in if you’re still here.”

The dispatch center answered and after a few moments, transferred him to the highest-ranking dispatcher still alive and at work. Before that call connected, Stiles’ phone chimed with a text message. It was from Peter. “I’m still here. And I’m red.”

 

Tuesday, April 3, 2018

Beacon Hills, California

 

Stiles walked into the house that he had shared with his dad and dropped his duffel bag by the door. It was the first time he had been home, other than a five-minute stop to pack the duffel bag in the first place since the day people turned to ash. The station had finally calmed down to a more high-level alert but not disaster alert, like regular red alert status as opposed to flashing neon colors in block letters fifty-feet tall alert status.

The past five days had been hell. And he was due back at the station in fourteen hours for a full shift. And he had a pack meeting tonight. With what was left of the pack. Which wasn’t much.

Stiles sank down onto the sofa and pulled his legs up, wrapping his arms around his knees. So many people were gone. His pack was down to three. And his dad. Stiles started to cry and felt an arm slip around his shoulders. “It’s alright, sweetheart. Take your time to mourn. You’ve earned it and need it.”

Peter held Stiles while he sobbed, all the bottled up and pushed aside feelings from the last five days spilling out of him. Peter rubbed his back and Stiles saw a figure pick up his duffel bag and head towards the laundry room with it.

“Relax, darling, we have a few visitors who’ve made it to town. You can talk later. Let yourself do what you need right now. We’ll handle the practical.”

Stiles nodded and burrowed into Peter’s side, taking comfort from his alpha, reveling in the touch in his starved state. He knew there were things that needed to be done but he trusted Peter would get them done or arrange for them to be done while Stiles regained his equilibrium.

Half an hour later, Stiles had calmed down enough to get up and take a shower, allowing the hot water to wash away the signs of his breakdown. And ease the headache it had caused.

When he emerged from the bathroom, dinner was on the table and Parrish had arrived. Stiles took a seat next to Peter and gave a nod of greeting to the other two at the table. Deucalion smiled sadly in return and Cora bumped his shoulder with hers from her seat next to him.

The five of them ate the chili and biscuits that Deucalion had made and seemed to come to a silent consensus that the dinner should be enjoyed in quiet. Stiles appreciated the thought as his brain was still rebooting from its emotional outburst.

After dinner, Cora cleared the table and Peter grabbed them all drinks from the fridge while Stiles and Parrish led the way to the living room. Stiles opened his laptop and placed it on the coffee table and waited until everyone was settled in their seats.

“So, I was at a pack meeting with Scott, Malia, Theo, Corey, Mason, and Hayden when it happened. I was the only one not to be turned to ash. At the station, we lost a total of eight deputies which is the equivalent of a full shift for the station, one of the station’s dispatchers, both deputy sheriffs, and,” Stiles’ voice broke, “the sheriff.”

Parrish took up the tale. “We discovered that Lydia was Ashed and so was Melissa McCall. She was on duty at the hospital and was one of sixteen nurses, four doctors, and two surgeons who were Ashed there. The county lost thirteen firefighters, nine EMTs, and two emergency dispatchers.”

Stiles sighed. “The first night was pretty quiet. Most people were still in shock and confused, glued to their televisions or phones or tablets or laptops. A handful of looters, some fistfights, mostly it was just going house to house checking up on people and taking an informal census, rescuing kids who had no caretaker, things like that.”

Stiles frowned. “The second night, well, the second afternoon and on, things picked up. After former Speaker of the House Ramsey became President Ramsey and addressed the nation, revealing what had happened was the result of an alien attack and that the Ashed were all dead, people moved out of denial and shock and into anger. And looting spread along with riots and fighting and the religious zealots had their say.”

Stiles pressed his hand to his mouth, took a deep breath, then continued. “There was a group from a few different local churches, thirty-seven people all told, twenty-one of them kids under twelve, six teens. I wouldn’t have pegged any of them for religious extremism but well, the apocalypse kind of shakes people up, I guess. We know what they were thinking because they put a big-ass sign on the curb with a list explaining it. And urging others to follow them to salvation.”

Deucalion snarled. “Mass suicide?”

Stiles nodded and Peter asked, “Poison?”

Stiles closed his eyes, a tear slipping down his cheek. “I fucking hope so. If there is any mercy in this world, I fucking hope those little kids were completely unconscious or already dead. Everyone was in one big room, laid out on metal racks, and they surrounded the room and the building with gasoline, with lines of it leading to the floor under the racks where there were pools of it. They lit in on fire from the inside by means of a remote igniter and -“

Parrish laid a hand on Stiles’ arm. “They said in their manifesto that God was calling the faithful to return to ash. ‘From out of ash we come, and to ash we shall return.’ And after the alien weapon Ashed so many, they said it was God’s will and the government was lying because of the secular nature of the government. That it was essentially the Book of Revelations come to life, the End of Days. It was horrendous.”

Peter bit his lip and his breathing was loud and labored.

Stiles reached out and scented his cheek. “I’m sorry. But if you hadn’t heard about it already, I knew you would soon. And I thought it should be from me.”

Peter shook his head. “I’ve been busy, haven’t really gone out much. Haven’t watched the TV lately either. Didn’t want to see the news.”

Stiles nodded. “Well, that was the worst thing in the days since the Ashing. But who knows what’s coming. We need to prepare.”

Peter nodded. “And more people are coming back. I’ve heard from Christopher. He met up with Isaac, they weren’t far from each other in France, an hour or so. They’re both coming home. Isaac’s pack was never large and now, it’s almost nonexistent and the new alpha hates Isaac for various reasons, none very rational. I also heard from young Jackson. He is making his way here as well. The problem being transportation from Europe is difficult at best right now.”

Cora nodded. “Air traffic was shut down entirely, worldwide, until this morning. And if what I saw when I came through San Diego and passed the airport there is any indication, most airports will be a mess, possibly still burning or at least smoldering in parts. Lots of wrecked buildings, planes, runways. And I don’t know how many planes survived whole and usable.”

Peter nodded. “So, they may take a while to get here but they are on their way. And if we can keep the area relatively calm, not just on the supernatural front but overall, others will hear and come as well, for the safety. We now live in what can only be called a post-apocalyptic world and I don’t know how humanity and its adjacent will react. Will it be more Mad Max or more Day After Tomorrow?”

Stiles smiled. “Pop culture for the win.”

Deucalion leaned forward. “I can tell you that your Lydia was lucky.”

Parrish growled. “Lucky?”

Deucalion nodded. “I’ve heard from contacts, there are no banshees still alive, whether they were already activated and aware or they were latent. The sheer overwhelming amount of unnatural death at once was too much. Those who weren’t Ashed died within two to three minutes of the event’s end. They screamed themselves to death and their brains overloaded with multiple, simultaneous aneurysms bursting. Even those who were latent, down to newborn babies, their powers awakened and they screamed and died. The only banshees who may still exist are those who are currently in the womb and unborn. Other banshees may be conceived from lines that weren’t even recent enough to be latent, but for now at least, for decades, banshees are extinct.”

Cora sighed. “They might not be the only ones.”

Parrish turned to her with a frown. “What do you mean?”

Cora tilted her head. “Well, I said I came north up through San Diego. I avoided bigger cities after that. But I passed by the zoo and I overheard some of the zookeepers talking about how a lot of the animals got Ashed. They were concerned because some of them were already endangered and they didn’t know if the population would be viable going forward.”

Stiles shifted in his seat. “I didn’t even consider the animals. I do remember seeing empty leashes and cages during my patrols but I didn’t make the connection. And I wasn’t the one to check in at Deaton’s clinic. He was Ashed, by the way. But I didn’t think about the fact that this weapon wouldn’t necessarily be able to distinguish between sentient and sapient life.”

Deucalion shook his head. “It was more indiscriminate than that, I’m afraid. I passed through Napa Valley on my way here. There are vineyards that have perhaps a few dozen vines instead of the thousands they should have. And I passed by a dense forest the day before it happened. When I passed the day after, there were exactly seven trees left of a forest that had covered miles.”

Stiles closed his eyes. “What kind of weapon that could cause this can’t even tell the difference between plants and animals? It must have just been targeted on biological life. Period. That’s just. I don’t even know why someone would design a weapon like that. This is going to be bad. So, so bad. If it took out trees and grapevines, it must have hit other crops, too. Depending on the percentages of people lost versus crops and feed animals lost, and depending on if this weapon was able to reach the oceans and everywhere on the world equally, this could be a global famine situation. Especially when you add in the transportation shortages due to the ashing of truck drivers, pilots, crews of cargo ships, dock workers, train workers, air traffic controllers, what have you.”

Stiles turned to Peter. “We need to get our hands on whatever food seeds we can, especially if you think more people will be heading here. Seeds and feed animal stock like egg-laying birds, whether chicken or otherwise, cattle, pigs, maybe rabbits, maybe deer, maybe goats for the milk. And stock up on staples for a large group, canned food, dry food like oats and cereals, salt, some spices, non-perishable stuff and freeze or dry whatever fresh stuff you can get. Enough for the pack and more if possible. Things are gonna get worse before they get better. I just hope they weren’t lying when they said the weapon couldn’t be used again.”

Peter nodded. “I understand. The three of us will spread out and work on that while you two are on duty tomorrow.”

Stiles sat forward. “Reach out to your nearby contacts and find out about any towns or areas that were especially hard hit by the Ashing. It was so random how it hit. The Preserve is huge and if we’re missing any trees, it isn’t enough to even notice. But Deucalion said the forest he passed was miles wide and basically gone. So, while we lost a lot of people, I suspect there are towns who only lost a few and towns that are nearly ghost towns with nearly everyone gone. Those are the towns you hit, they are not likely to need their stocks. We don’t want to start fights over supplies. That’ll happen on its own eventually, no need to hurry it.”

Stiles blew out a breath. “And, uh, we need to just check and make sure that this weapon didn’t hit the Nemeton. Because that would be – bad.”

Peter’s face turned white and Deucalion’s eyes flared at the thought. “Yes, very bad.”

Cora pushed her hand through her hair. “Watching Derek just disappear was horrible but I’m also kind of glad he did. I wouldn’t have wanted him to see what’s coming and lose everything again.”

Stiles smiled. “I understand. He lost so much, so many times. To lose more, again. It would have been too much.”

Peter nodded. “I think if it had been the other way around, Cora, and you had been Ashed, Derek would have retreated into his full shift and never come out again.”

The five sat there with their thoughts while Stiles made notes on his laptop about their conclusions and preliminary plans. Half an hour later, after he finished sketching out a rough outline for the next week with everyone’s input, Stiles looked up.

“We need to get an idea of who and how many that we personally know are heading this way. We know Chris, Isaac, and Jackson will get here eventually. Who else? Text people, email them, message them, whatever, and find out their statuses and situations.”

Everyone split off to get their phones or tablets or laptops in order to do as Stiles suggested and he turned back to his own laptop. He opened his email program and looked over his contacts. He narrowed his eyes and decided it was worth a try. He clicked on a name and began to type, “Dear Uncle Bruce”.

 

Wednesday, April 25, 2018

Avengers Compound, Upstate New York

 

Bruce Banner sat in the common area of the Avengers compound. He was tired, not so much physically, but emotionally, mentally, just tired. Thanos had died two days before and Bruce just wasn’t sure what to do. He had been missing from Earth for years before rushing to warn everyone about Thanos and he felt so disconnected. Hulk was still fairly quiet, he seemed to be mourning, just as Bruce was.

Bruce looked over at Tony. He was in a chair with his legs up. He looked horrible but not quite as bad as when he stepped off the Guardians’ ship with Nebula. Or when he collapsed after his fight with Steve. They were still nothing but a volatile bomb, the group of them. They never really got beyond those first meetings on the helicarrier no matter how many villains they fought.

“What do we do now?”

Tony looked over and met Bruce’s eyes. “In what capacity?”

“I don’t know. Us. The Avengers. Us.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “I understand you haven’t really caught up on events before your crash landing at Strange’s place, Brucie. But ‘us’ is not ‘the Avengers’. I don’t know what will happen to the charges Steve and his rogues were facing now that half the planet is dead. Then again, if people understand that it was because he failed, that he couldn’t stop this, that Maximoff couldn’t stop it though she paid with her life for her crimes, so, that Miss ‘You Need Me’ couldn’t stop it. They may want his head on a pike. Even more than before. Or they may feel there has been more than enough death and let everything slide.”

Tony shrugged. “I’m going to help however I can with the recovery. Things are not gonna be great for a long time. It’s been a month and very little has stabilized in the world but at least governments haven’t been shooting at each other, making it worse. I can’t help as Iron Man right now. Physically. But Tony Stark? Stark Industries? We can help. Intellicrops. Arc reactors to provide power. Clean water initiatives. The world doesn’t need the Avengers. And we did a shitty job of it when they did need us.”

Bruce frowned. “We can’t do anything to change things back without the stones.”

Tony scoffed. “So we deal with moving forward. Because even if Thanos was lying, which I don’t think he was, or he was mistaken, which for the record I think was the case, it doesn’t matter. No stones is no stones is no stones.”

Bruce wrinkled his forehead. “What do you mean you think Thanos was mistaken?”

Tony sighed deeply. “What happened to your logical mind, Dr. Banner? From everything we’ve heard and learned about the stones if Thanos had truly used them to destroy each other, the universe would have ripped apart. Granted, it might still happen, more of a gradual destruction as opposed to immediate, but they were the pillars of existence. Knock out foundational pillars in a building, it collapses. So, I think the stones just made him think they were destroyed or he assumed it had worked when they disappeared. In my opinion, the most likely thing that happened? They scattered themselves across the universe again.”

Bruce sat forward. “So they could still exist?”

Tony coughed and rolled his eyes. “Yes. They probably do. But it is the same difference to us. We can’t track them from this far away unless they are used together. Which if they separated again, won’t happen. And it took Thanos centuries to track down the locations of the stones and that was with stories leaking out over time about their locations. We don’t have those stories. New ones about where they are now. And even if we did, we can’t get there. So, whether they are destroyed or just missing, it means the same – unless the universe slowly implodes. They are inaccessible to us.”

Bruce frowned, unsure. “Carol could get there even if we couldn’t.”

Tony slumped back. “Get where, Bruce? Even if you could convince the hard-headed morons that I am right, there are no clues as to where to start. Just move on with your life. You aren’t being hunted anymore. Reach out to old friends, family, anyone who didn’t get snapped. I never canceled your email address and I routed your text messages to it in a separate folder so you can find them. Live your life as it stands. Just move on, Bruce.”

Bruce sighed and stood. “Where?”

Tony waved his hand. “You can use the terminal in your room or any tablet. Just log in.”

Bruce nodded and grabbed a tablet off the nearest table. He didn’t feel like being alone in his room while doing this. He started with the folder with his texts. There were a few from Tony just after Ultron and in the few months following. And there were a couple from his brother-in-law around the same time and then again around a year later, just asking for a check-in.

The largest folder was for texts from his nephew. There were several hundred in the two months following Ultron and then about fifty a year or so later. And a single one from about a month ago. Bruce read them all with a frown, though the last one was short. “If you weren’t Ashed, I’m still alive.”

Bruce then turned to his email account. There were some business-type emails that he ignored for now as they weren’t important or urgent. And then again, a dozen from his nephew just after Ultron and for the next year. And then the most recent email dated a week or so after the Snap. Bruce read it and choked on a laugh. It was so typical.

Tony looked over and hummed. “Catching up on your memes? Stand-up comedy, perhaps?”

Bruce shook his head. “It’s an email from my nephew, my late half-sister’s son. We had different mothers. She died a long time ago. He’s in his early twenties now and well, he’s very much a smart ass.”

Tony raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

Bruce nodded. “You’d like him, I think. Or you’d hate him because he’s too like you in some respects.”

Tony pouted. “What made you laugh?”

Bruce sighed. “He thought – I haven’t exactly been able to keep in touch for the past three years. And he’s very snarky about it.”

“Let me hear it.”

Bruce rolled his eyes but complied,

“Dear Uncle Bruce,

So I have to say I’m pleased you’re alive. After you dropped out of contact and off the grid after the whole mess with Ultron and all, I had actually started to think you might have actually been killed and they were covering it up. Especially when you didn’t show up at all during the whole media-coined, stupidly, Civil War.

Though I would hope if you had been in it you would have been the smart man I thought you were and chosen the correct side and not the side of the self-righteous, sanctimonious, treasonous actor who was never actually even in the army. Sorry. Not sorry. Team Iron Man and accountability all the way over here.

Anyway, I saw you in footage in New York in the park when you came out of a portal of some kind. It was cell phone footage, obviously, but what did the guy in the cape expect? And then, you know there were people in the buildings filming the fight with the alien guy with the ax, right? You were in the background of that footage, too. And some of it gets a good view of your performance issues before the attack.

Don’t know what is up with that but lots of people on TV were speculating about what happened in the last three years to make Hulk be unreachable. Well, they were for about a day. So, at least I knew for a few hours that you hadn’t died.

But then, well, I don’t know if you got Ashed. So, this could be an email to a dead man. But I wanted to reach out and let you know if you didn’t get Ashed, that I’m alive. I survived the ashing.

Dad didn’t. And I lost several friends. And things are crazy here in town and well, everywhere. I don’t know when you’ll see this, or if you will, but you do realize that the weapon was really indiscriminate, right? I figure you Avengers would be working the problem and know more about the specifics than me, but it didn’t just kill people. It didn’t even just kill animal life, which people technically are. It killed plants. It hit every kind of biological life, probably down to microbes.

Just a heads up if you’re too focused on the shooter, or whatever. Resources are going to be a worldwide problem for a while.

Anyway, I’m hanging on. Working, trying to keep people calm and alive. And putting idiots who want to take advantage of the chaos in jail.

Hoping to hear from you someday,

Stiles.”

Tony cocked an eyebrow. “What’s a Stiles?”

Bruce smiled. “It’s his name. Well, his nickname. My sister gave him her mother’s father’s name. It is Polish and has too many consonants for English speakers to not butcher. So, he nicknamed himself Stiles for his last name, Stilinski.”

“Well, he’s a very discerning fellow, your nephew. He’s a cop?”

Bruce nodded. “I suppose he’s a deputy. His father’s the sheriff. He was still in college for criminal justice when I – left the planet.”

“When’s the last time you saw him?”

Bruce sighed. “In person? Before the experiment and accident. But after I wasn’t on the run anymore, I got back in touch, email, texts, sometimes video chats.”

Tony sighed. “You should go see him. Connect to the family you have left. Does he have other uncles or aunts? Any cousins?”

Bruce shook his head. “No. Not close ones, at least.”

“Well, his father died in the Snap and he didn’t. And you didn’t. So, go be with him for a while. Make the most of it. You both survived the universal apocalypse. There’s nothing going on here. Well, I don’t know what Captain Jackass and his homies are going to be up to, probably nothing good, but they can do without you for a while.”

Bruce sat forward. “Tony, what happened? I’ve gotten bits and pieces and I don’t understand. What happened to the Avengers? What was this as Stiles put it ‘media-coined Civil War’?”

Tony swallowed. “I can’t, Bruce. I can’t be objective and I really don’t want to talk about it while I’m in the same building or even compound as them. As soon as I’m cleared to leave, I am. It was bad, Bruce, and I’m still dealing with the mental scars, frankly. Go visit your nephew and ask him for the public knowledge of it. Spend some time and then, if you want more insider stuff, and trust me, come see me then and we can hash it out.”

Bruce frowned. “But Stiles isn’t objective either.”

“But he at least would have known enough to choose his side. Granted, it’s my side, so I may be biased. But you said he was smart. Would he make an emotional judgment? Or would he at least look at facts first?”

Bruce blinked. “Facts first.”

“Well, there you go. Go. Visit your family and talk. Get his take on things and then come talk again. Or talk to Rogers and his gang, if you prefer. But get a more objective, outsider view first.”

Bruce nodded. “I will.”

Tony waved a hand. “I’ll get FRIDAY to get you a Quinjet. After all, we know you can pilot one.”

Chapter 2

Friday, April 6, 2018

Beacon Hills, California

 

Bruce landed the Quinjet in the forest clearing that Stiles had told him about after Bruce had replied to his email. It was near one of the parking lots in the Preserve but not visible from there or the road.

Bruce walked the quarter-mile from the clearing to the parking lot with ease and Stiles was waiting there to pick him up as promised. Stiles walked up to him and gave him a big hug. Bruce wrapped the young man in his arms and appreciated the affection.

Stiles backed up and smiled. “Welcome to Beacon Hills, Uncle Bruce. Come on, I am off duty for the next day and a half, so we have time to catch up and I can show you around.”

Bruce smiled as he climbed into the Jeep and agreed.

Two hours later, Bruce and Stiles were sitting in Stiles’ dining room and eating dinner.

“Sorry about the meal, Uncle Bruce. I know there isn’t much fresh in it. Nothing was flash-frozen or anything but well, we’re relying a bit on the canned goods for now until the greenhouses start producing more. And we aren’t killing any of the food animals, yet, unless we have old ones who are past reproductive age because we need to build up the population. We’ve got plenty of milk of different kinds and cheeses and other dairy products. But meat is all frozen stuff, not processed, just frozen when fresh. And the produce is from cans or canning jars or dried.”

Bruce waved his fork. “It tastes great, Stiles. I was impressed by how much you all have put together for the town in just about a month since the Snap. And I’m used to eating odd food. Not that this is odd. But I’ve had all kinds. Especially lately.”

Stiles tilted his head. “Oh? Where were you the last three years, Uncle Bruce?”

Bruce sighed. “It’s a long story but I didn’t deliberately break off contact. It wasn’t by choice. After the fight with Ultron – I was in a bad headspace because some stuff had happened and someone I trusted had betrayed that trust. I needed some time away and I ran into a – it was a kind of spacial rift, sort of, and I actually ended up on another planet in a distant part of the galaxy.”

Stiles’ eyes widened. “How’d you get home?”

Bruce sighed. “It took a while and some crazy stuff happened but Thor ended up on the world I was stranded on and we worked together, sort of, to get off the world. And went to Asgard and some more stuff happened there and Asgard ended up being destroyed and we were on our way here with the remaining Asgardians when the ship was attacked by a really bad guy. And I got sent here to warn Earth about him.”

Stiles pursed his lips. “He’s the one who used the weapon that Ashed everything?”

Bruce nodded. “His name was Thanos. He was the last survivor of his race, the Titans. According to him, his planet became overpopulated and was using up their resources, and didn’t have enough to feed everyone. And there was unrest and wars and fighting and instead of trying to find a way to fix it, they all died. And Thanos decided that this was a universal problem and he wanted to fix it for everyone in the universe.”

Bruce sighed. “At first, he would go to planets with an army he raised and kill half of the world population. But even though he was incredibly long-lived, to do that to every planet would take much longer than his lifetime. But he heard rumors in the galaxy of these stones that survived the Big Bang and controlled facets of the universe – mind, space, reality, soul, power, and time. And he reasoned that if he could collect the stones, the Infinity Stones, he could use them together to solve the problem all at once.”

Stiles blew out a breath. “And he got them, didn’t he? That’s what the Ashing was. He used all six stones?”

Bruce nodded. “We fought him. But by the time he got here, he had all but one of the stones, the one in Vision. Wanda tried to destroy it to keep it from Thanos but he had the time stone and rewound time and stopped her from doing it. And he claimed it.”

Stiles nodded. “So the weapon was six stones?”

Bruce shrugged. “It was a gauntlet, a metal glove, that he put the stones in. One over each finger and one in the middle of the back of the hand. Thor tried to kill him but he didn’t die and he just snapped his fingers and people started disappearing.”

Stiles nodded. “That’s why you keep referring to it as the Snap.”

Bruce nodded. “That’s how he activated the gauntlet. Snapping.”

Stiles bit his lip. “Okay, first, I doubt the thing was activated by the snap. Especially since you can’t actually snap your fingers when wearing a metal glove like that. Not technically. It was probably just how he focused his mind because mystical stones of infinity and a magical gauntlet sound like something that would be a mental control, not physical. I mean, you didn’t say he snapped or whatever when he used it to get the final stone, right? So, the gesture was to just focus his thoughts in a moment and to be a dramatic asshole.”

Bruce tilted his head and frowned. “I never really thought about that. I guess that makes sense. The gauntlet didn’t have any moving parts, or nothing beyond what would move on a gauntlet meant to be worn. That I could tell.”

Stiles nodded firmly. “Secondly – Uncle Bruce – I don’t know who you’ve talked to about what happened and all other than the other Avengers and probably ex-Avengers, but you should not keep calling it the Snap and that people were snapped because it really sounds flippant to anyone not in the know. And no one who wasn’t there is in the know as far as I know. Or few people. So, you sound like you’re trying to make light of it and how quickly everyone died – in a snap.”

Bruce felt ill. “Oh, God. I never – that wasn’t what I was doing.”

“I understand now. But I kind of doubt it is all going to be explained to the general populous so you may want to start using the terms regular people have been using – ashing or dusting.”

Bruce nodded. “Right, of course, that makes sense. I never even thought what it would sound like if people didn’t know why I said that. It does sound callous, doesn’t it?”

Stiles nodded. “Not as bad as calling what was evidently trillions of deaths a blip or something but, yeah, it doesn’t sound good to those without insider knowledge. And I’m guessing that the fact that one of those stones was here on Earth and it wasn’t really protected at all, seeing as it was prominently in someone’s forehead, isn’t going to be widely disseminated information.”

Bruce blinked. “No. I suppose not. But the Mind Stone wasn’t on Earth too long. Just since the Battle of New York. Thanos actually sent it here with Loki to help facilitate the invasion and collect the Space Stone. That one had been here for centuries, hidden by Odin in a temple, I was told, until it was found by HYDRA in World War II. And then it was lost in the Atlantic Ocean when Steve was fighting Red Skull. But Howard Stark found it on an expedition looking for Steve.”

Stiles tilted his head. “Huh. So, he had a stone and used it to try to gain another but lost both of them?”

Bruce nodded. “Yes. Of course, the Time Stone was here on Earth for centuries, as well. It was protected and guarded by some kind of sorcerers. They call themselves the Masters of the Mystic Arts and from what I was told, they protect the planet from extra-dimensional threats by tapping into extra-dimensional energy and channeling it. It’s a fascinating concept but I don’t quite grasp how they can do that with basically just their biological bodies. They aren’t mutated in any way.”

Stiles shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe the first one was and was able to figure out how to teach others without the need for them to be because they could see it was possible and therefore believe it?”

“Maybe.”

“So, the other three weren’t on Earth, too, were they? I mean, that would be just crazy, if all six stones came to Earth.”

Bruce shook his head. “No. Well, technically, the Reality Stone was briefly on Earth a few years ago but not in stone form. It seemed to prefer being more malleable and was liquid or maybe gaseous. I wasn’t there but Thor’s girlfriend at the time was taken over by it. Not like she was controlled by it but it entered her body when she got sucked through a rift to another realm during the Convergence, the attacks in London a few years ago. And it was overloading her system. Thor took her to Asgard and tried to heal her. It was a big mess.”

Stiles snorted. “Four of six. But not six of six.”

Bruce sighed. “No. I don’t know where the Power Stone was, somewhere out in space but was found and taken to an advanced world called Xandar, I think. And the Soul Stone, Thanos took his so-called favorite daughter to the planet it was on and came back without her. And made it pretty clear he killed her, according to Tony. I don’t know why or where it is – was then.”

Stiles blew out a deep breath. “Well, he was a peach, huh.”

Bruce nodded. “A great father he was not.”

 

Saturday, April 7, 2018

Beacon Hills, California

 

Bruce met Stiles in the morning for a tour of the town’s facilities in more depth and decided to stop being a coward and ask about the Avengers’ breakup. They were pulling up to the main greenhouses and Bruce looked over at Stiles as they parked, Hulk nudging him for information.

“Stiles, I was hoping you could tell me specifics about the Avengers break up. I’ve heard remarks from some people but I don’t think they were objective.”

Stiles glanced over. “I’m not objective, either, you know. I thought I made it clear that I’m totally Team Iron Man.”

Bruce nodded as they exited the car. “But I know you enough to know it wasn’t a judgment based on personality. You would know the facts and decide based on those, not on popularity.”

Stiles closed his car door. “True enough. Why didn’t you ask Tony Stark? I only know what was made public or what happened in public.”

Bruce sighed as they walked towards the first greenhouse. “Tony’s not in a good place. He was actually off-planet when the Sn – the Ashing happened.”

Stiles nodded. “Right, the big donut spaceship the day before. And the guy with the ax thing.”

Bruce nodded. “Yes. The man who was kidnapped onto the ship was actually the sorcerer who was protecting the Time Stone. And that’s why he was kidnapped, to take the stone to Thanos. And Tony and Spider-Man followed and they were on Thanos’ old home planet, Titan, and fought but he ended up with the stone. And when he activated the Gauntlet, almost everyone on Titan, there was another hero group there, too, the Guardians of the Galaxy, were Ashed. Including Spider-Man who was evidently very, very close to Tony, from what he’s said.”

Bruce gazed around at the plants. “And then Tony and the only Guardian who survived on Titan took the Guardians’ ship to head back here. But it had been damaged in the fight with Thanos and they ended up drifting in space for weeks, slowly running out of food and power. They were rescued by another hero who can fly in space without a ship and she brought him home. But he was in bad shape, medically. And psychologically, frankly. He didn’t want to rehash the bad stuff.”

Stiles nodded. “I can understand and respect that. And let me guess, Steve Rogers and his pals were there, too?”

Bruce nodded. “After the battle with Thanos, we came back to the Avengers Compound in upstate New York.”

Stiles arched an eyebrow. “They’re awfully confident to be so brazen. Especially after they failed so badly, too. And lost several of their most vocal supporters, like the president.”

Bruce turned to face Stiles, Hulk pressing on him inside. “Why is coming home brazen?”

Stiles huffed. “They’re wanted criminals. Well, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, James ‘Bucky’ Barnes, Wanda Maximoff, and Natasha Romanov are. Clint Barton was on house arrest and so was Scott Lang, I think.”

Bruce blinked. “What?”

Stiles sighed and waved his arms around. “I’ll take you back to the beginning. So, after Ultron, the United Nations started working more seriously on documents to define and put legal restrictions on enhanced individuals. Not like trying to control them but I mean, after SHIELD collapsed, the Avengers specifically were edging closer and closer to being a vigilante group. Tony Stark worked to keep things legal, contacting governments and such and getting clearance. This all came public in the hearings after it all went down.”

Bruce nodded. “I can see that. We never really were very defined. Even working under SHIELD.”

Stiles nodded. “Right. So, they were working on these things they titled the Sokovia Accords. And lots of countries signed on to the preliminary papers. And then several of the Avengers went on a weird mission that Tony and the handlers who worked to keep things above board knew nothing about. And it wasn’t the whole team. They didn’t take Colonel Rhodes or Vision. And Clint Barton was retired by then, like Tony. They both stepped back after the Ultron mess.”

Bruce shook his head. “Why? I get Clint with his family but why Tony?”

Stiles shrugged. “I know what he said in public, which was he needed to be more responsible and he was basically vilified for Ultron for quite a while. Things changed after a while but I think, personally, the timing was more than a bit suspect. When they put Maximoff on the team, Tony Stark left. Considering some of what was found by people mining the data dump about her, I don’t blame him if she was the reason.”

“The Scarlet Witch was made an Avenger?”

Stiles nodded. “Yeah. And you don’t know even half of the shit she did. It was really, really fucked up, Uncle Bruce. The things she did for HYDRA? Sadistic bitch. And afterward, it amazed me that Rogers was so okay with her, all things considered. But it’s possible he didn’t know it all.”

Bruce waved it off. “Well, it’s moot now. She died when Thanos – she was Ashed.”

“Huh. Okay. Well, anyway, this mission was to Lagos and it ended up with a terrorist blowing up a suicide vest in the middle of a residential area the Avengers chased him to. Maximoff tried to control the blast and threw it away from them but then it went off a few stories up and lots of people, Nigerians and some Wakandans who were visiting, were killed. It was carnage and the team didn’t stick around. They just flitted off back to the US without explaining shit or even trying to help. And that escalated the pace of the Accords.”

Bruce nodded. “Yeah, that would do it.”

Stiles waved an arm. “Yeah, well, so then at the signing for them, someone blew up the building and killed lots of people, dignitaries, including the king of Wakanda.”

“Oh.”

Stiles nodded. “Uh-huh. So, video evidence showed Bucky Barnes planting the device. And somehow Steve Rogers found out where he was before the anti-terrorist task force could get to him, just before, and there was a showdown and they killed and injured most of the task force team. And then they and Sam Wilson and this guy in a black catsuit collapsed a tunnel on top of civilians. It was a clusterfuck. Lots of injuries and deaths. And they caught up with them.”

Bruce shook his head. “Steve was never overly conscious of collateral damage. He never really considered it.”

Stiles nodded. “He first used his powers in a war zone. Literally. And never got a different mindset, I guess. Anyway, but they escaped again and got away, and later Rogers, Barnes, Wilson, and they picked up Maximoff, Barton, and this guy Scott Lang who had a suit that could get really small or really big – Ant-Man. And they faced off with Iron Man, War Machine, Vision, Black Widow, Spider-Man, and the catsuit guy who turned out to be called the Black Panther and was King T’Challa of Wakanda who just lost his father. And they were at an airport and the Avengers were trying to bring in Rogers and Barnes and Wilson. But the ones on Team Captain America were trying to kill Team Iron Man. There’s lots of video of the fight.”

Stiles went to pull out his phone and then waved it off. “I didn’t save the videos and the internet isn’t reliable right now. Anyway, Maximoff dropped cars on people and Lang went giant and kicked a tanker truck at them. Team Iron Man eventually got most of them down but not before War Machine crashed due to friendly fire from Vision. He broke his back and can only walk thanks to braces Tony Stark made for him. But Romanov let Rogers and Barnes get away and attacked King T’Challa to do it.”

Stiles bit his lip. “Then, something went down that no one knows other than those involved. And Tony Stark had to be rescued by a special ops team in Siberia and spend weeks in the hospital after he went after Rogers and Barnes. And they broke the others out of jail and T’Challa turned in the mastermind of the whole thing, evidently, who framed Barnes for the bombing, named Zemo. He lost his whole family in Sokovia and wanted to destroy the Avengers, from what he said and was publicly released. And it worked. Rogers and most of the others went on the run and weren’t seen since then.”

Stiles waved a hand. “For anything more, Uncle Bruce, you have to talk to the principles in the matter. When they’re able and willing to talk. Anyway, after everything, I support the Accords, they’re about accountability and taking responsibility and following rules and laws.”

Bruce nodded. “I get that. We always were a volatile mix. I said it from the start.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Bruce smiled. “When Loki came to Earth with the Mind Stone, it was in a scepter. And the scepter gave off a distinct radiation signature, very similar to the Tesseract, which was the housing for the Space Stone, though we didn’t know anything about the stones then. But when he arrived, he stole the Tesseract and he didn’t have it with him when they captured him in Germany. But he had the scepter and we used it on SHIELD’s helicarrier to search for the Tesseract. And we fought. Tony and Steve nearly got into a fistfight several times. But we came together once the invasion started.”

Bruce sighed. “I don’t remember much of it, the battle, I was Hulk. I recall more than I used to, but still, it’s foggy and disconnected. But Hulk literally slammed Loki around the floor of Tony’s penthouse and then Nat used the scepter to close the portal, the back door in the device. And Hulk roared Tony back to life after he fell. Then we went back and secured Loki. He had been mind-controlled, too, though we didn’t realize it. And SHIELD sent a team to take the scepter. They turned out to be HYDRA which is how they got the scepter and experimented with it to create the Maximoff twins’ powers. But we didn’t know any of that for years. And Thor took Loki and the Tesseract back to Asgard. And we all went our separate ways for a while.”

Stiles tilted his head. “Weird. People all thought that the Avengers all lived together in Avengers Tower and were great friends and like had team movie nights and shared chores and teased one another. I guess I’ve read too much fanfiction.”

Bruce snorted. “Yeah, no. We socialized occasionally and sometimes stayed at the Tower, me more than most of the others, but, no we were never close like that. I think Tony hoped we would be but we were just too volatile a mix.”

Stiles opened the door to a barn. “Well, that was what the media called the Avengers Civil War. And this is our main barn for our milk animals.”

 

Monday, April 9, 2018

Beacon Hills, California

 

Stiles walked into Peter’s house, an old farmhouse just inside the Beacon Hills limits that they had turned into a pack house and a working farm since the Ashing. There were a number of trailers set up around the house as well, stopgaps for new pack members until they could build them proper housing.

Uncle Bruce had gone back to New York earlier that day and Stiles was off shift and needed a pack meeting of those he considered the Inner Circle. The pack had grown considerably over the past few weeks, as lone wolves and small groups of newly packless wolves and other supernaturals had begun to gravitate towards them. Evidently, the magic or whatever that had been used to kill had sometimes screwed up the passing of the alpha spark and many of those sparks had vanished or been reabsorbed by the Earth. Or maybe hijacked by the stones. Who knows?

Stiles had done some research on the side in some newly available books and had found that Scott’s “True Alpha” spark had actually been the Hale spark Derek had given up to heal Cora. Deaton’s journals had been full of very interesting, very dark plots and plans of the druid vet, some of which had succeeded, some of which had not.

Stiles walked into the den, mentally snickering at the unintentional pun, and took a seat in a comfy chair. Shifts had calmed down considerably from directly after the Ashing but they weren’t back to normal by any means, so they were grueling. He leaned back in the recliner to wait for the rest of the pack’s Inner Circle to arrive.

Ten minutes later, Peter, Parrish, Deucalion, Cora, Chris, Isaac, Danny, and Jackson had arrived and arrayed themselves around the room.

Stiles put the recliner back into the upright position and sat forward. “Okay, so my Uncle Bruce went home, more or less home, he kind of doesn’t exactly have one but it is sort of his home, I suppose. I mean, I don’t think he pays rent and he doesn’t own it, and he hasn’t been there in three years or whatever because his life is evidently even crazier than ours and he was actually on another planet.”

Cora held up a hand. “Okay, so your uncle is insane?” She circled her finger around her ear. “He’s going back to the loony bin?”

Stiles shook his head. “No. He actually was on another planet. Literally. It’s called Sakaar and there was this gladiator arena there and he was kidnapped to fight.”

Deucalion frowned. “Is your uncle a werewolf? He didn’t seem like one but I only really glimpsed him from a distance.”

Stiles opened his mouth and then smacked himself in the face. “Right, you don’t know. I know Jackson and Danny know. They were around when it came out. But Cora was already gone and Peter was in his coma or catatonic state thing. And Parrish wasn’t here yet and obviously neither were you. Okay, um, no my uncle isn’t a werewolf or anything supernatural but he is enhanced. He was a scientist and performed an experiment on himself and it went wrong and he kind of split in two, like personality and body but in one body.”

Jackson snorted at the confused looks on the faces in the room. “His uncle is Doctor Bruce Banner. As in the Hulk.”

Stiles nodded. “Yeah. My mom was his half-sister. They had different mothers. And they weren’t close or anything. They were both raised by their moms, well until Grandpa Banner went nuts and killed Uncle Bruce’s mom. And my grandma married a man who adopted mom. So, yeah.”

Peter shook his head. “Of course, you are related to an Avenger.”

Stiles nodded emphatically. “And that is important. The Ashing and what led up to it? Uncle Bruce knew all about it. He was there when the big bad triggered the weapon thing and helped kill him later in retaliation and to try to get the weapon thing to try to undo what happened. He told me all about it. More than he realized, I’m sure.”

Peter smirked. “You are the clever one.”

Stiles smirked in return. “And I know how to interrogate the hell out of a guy. And I did. Very subtly. And it was all because of something he let slip more or less in passing the first night he was here. I’m a spark. Everyone here knows that. And I know that a lot of you think I’m either not fully ‘lit’ so to speak or that whatever the Nogitsune did when he made me a new body damaged my potential. Neither of those is exactly true. The Nogitsune thing is actually the opposite. He created my body from magic. It’s a better conduit than my original one.”

Stiles sighed. “But a spark is all about belief and here my mind and my need to understand things is the problem. I’m too scientific and kind of logical. At least within my own mind. I know I don’t always come across that way but it’s mostly because people can’t follow my mental logic trail. If I can’t understand the science behind something, I can’t believe it will happen. Or rather, if I think the science as presented in say a movie or a book or a television show or a comic book is hand-wavy and can’t actually hold together logically, I can’t muster up the belief needed to cause it to happen.”

Stiles waved a hand around. “So, I can do some spells from Harry Potter for example because I can understand how levitating something against gravity or summoning something across a room or even invisibility would work. I think I could even get the Killing Curse to work if I put some thought into it, just stop the heart. But recharging energy in the sun like Superman? Making a horcrux? Even making a DNA test take only an hour or two? No. I can’t do that.”

Stiles sat back and crossed his arms. “Until the Battle of New York, I would have said I had a similar problem with the idea of artificial wormholes being used for travel. And until a few days ago I would have said the same about time travel. It was a fiction, a plot device that could be interesting or amusing but the science was nonsense. But it isn’t.”

Danny frowned. “Stiles?”

Stiles sighed. “The big bad, whose name was Thanos by the way, rewound time to stop the Avengers from stopping him from completing the weapon he used. Oh, and he didn’t just Ash the people, plants, and animals here on Earth. At that same instant, he Ashed half, exactly half, of all life in the entire universe. And he did it because he got his hands on these stones that survived the Big Bang and controlled all aspects of existence. The Avengers destroyed one, or at least appeared to have, and because Thanos had the stone that controlled time already, he used it to make the stone he wanted from them not destroyed by rewinding time around it and him.”

Jackson gaped. “Holy shit.”

Stiles nodded. “Exactly. And this happened here on Earth. Time travel is possible and has been done, evidently multiple times because that stone was here for centuries, on this planet. I know this and even if I can’t understand the mechanism behind it or the science of how it works, I can understand that it does. And I can believe in that. I want to gather as many books and grimoires and tales and whatever we can find about supernatural time travel rituals and ceremonies and anything. I need a basis for my belief, my faith, to jump from. But I am pretty fucking sure that I can use my spark to time travel and stop the Ashing from ever being able to happen. And maybe change more than that. We need to plan and I just need the stuff and the information.”

Peter looked Stiles dead in the eyes. “Whatever you need, sweetheart. Whatever you need.”

 

Friday, December 21, 2018

Beacon Hills, California

 

Stiles walked into the clearing at the Nemeton. Of course, any major magical working in Beacon Hills would have to be centered there. It was inevitable. And Stiles was very glad the Ashing had not taken the tree.

Of course, the rest of the world wasn’t always as lucky. Nemetons weren’t always trees and the trees were more outpourings of the magical nodes’ overflow of power than really the power themselves. They were sort of guardians of the node combined with a spillover valve for it. Many were trees, some were other types of plants, some were rock formations, two were even crater lakes.

Technically, there were tens of thousands of places where there could be Nemetons in the world. Wherever two or more ley lines crossed one another, there was a node. Now, most of the two-line nodes were very small, barely larger than a single ley line, unless the two feeding lines were major lines.

But there were twenty-one sites in the world where thirteen ley lines crossed at a single point creating basically huge lake-size nodes. There were thirty-three sites where twelve lines crossed, forty-two where eleven lines crossed, seventy-seven where ten lines crossed, one hundred thirteen where nine lines crossed, and so on and so on.

Most of the nodes that were from fewer than five lines didn’t even have or need a Nemeton as a guardian or spillway. Many were under houses or buildings or roads and didn’t have any effect really on the world above them. There just wasn’t enough gathered power.

But the larger nodes got, the more likely there would be some type of Nemeton above it. Any node with more than eight lines always had something. And the larger the node got, the more important the Nemeton became in maintaining the node in safety.

The problem that had been discovered over the last half a year was that the Ashing had destroyed seven of the twenty-one Grand Nemetons, the ones with thirteen ley lines leading to them. Also gone were at least sixteen of the twelve-line Nemetons. There could be more but at least six of them were problematical to reach, especially in the changed world they lived in.

Magical theorists had done the math. Because the Nemetons had all vanished at once and without a chance for the node to create a new spillway, the world was going to get more and more chaotic, magically.

Already, areas closest to the missing Nemetons were having glitches and hiccups that were being noticed in the mundane world although they were so far being blamed on the Ashing. But within seven years, large swathes would begin to become uninhabitable to living creatures, less if many more of the Nemetons were missing or badly damaged.

Within a decade, the pockets of the world able to sustain human life would be only a few miles wide each and there would be less than a hundred of them. Some of the more pessimistic said there would be less than one hundred miles of liveable area on the planet. Total.

And the latest theories held that the world would literally be ripped apart along the lines as they acted like giant fault lines.

Stiles’ mission had become more than a wish to bring back his family, friends, and all those lost in the Ashing. And maybe fix some of Beacon Hills’ issues while he was at it. It had instead become an essential mission to save the entire world from destruction.

Stiles had done lots of research over the past several months, including two trips to New York and more light interrogations on Uncle Bruce, plus Thor Odinson, and even Tony Stark. He had spoken with druids and witches and mages and werewolves and even a yeti. He knew what he needed to do, locally and more globally, and when he had to do it.

It hurt Stiles that he couldn’t go back far enough to keep the Hales alive for Derek and Peter and Cora. Well, technically he could, magically speaking, but not practically. Stiles would be too young in body to be taken seriously and the Hale Fire had happened before Hulk had been born and before Iron Man had been forged in the fires of Tony Stark’s captivity in Afghanistan.

And Stiles couldn’t afford for any inadvertent ripples his actions would cause stopping the events of the Battle of New York from occurring. And going back that far, seven years of ripples could have kept it from happening. A year and a half or so should be manageable. Especially if Stiles confined his changes to Beacon Hills events for the first six months or so which was the plan.

Peter was waiting near the Nemeton and smiled at him. The rest of the pack in the know had said their goodbyes and wishes of good luck earlier that morning. But Stiles knew Peter wouldn’t let that be all.

Stiles set up the fairly elaborate mechanism he had created to empower the ritual. It was a large circular metal hoop with six shallow braziers at equidistant points on the hoop. Atop each brazier was a shallow metal disk with a spike in the middle. Each disk and each brazier had a metal channel leading from near its base to the exact center of the hoop where a pedestal sat with a larger brazier and a larger, deeper disk.

Stiles set the apparatus on the ground in front of the Nemeton and pushed the metal legs deep into the soil to keep the hoop steady. On each spike, Stiles placed a tall tapered candle, each one a different color based on the color of one of the Infinity Stones.

Stiles had realized a few months before that the odd shimmers he would sometimes see when examining the ley lines to prepare for the ritual were the remnants of the power of the Stones from when they were used together. And they weren’t really fading like he would have expected them to.

Stiles had heard Tony Stark’s theory on the non-destruction of the Stones and Stiles believed this non-fading remnant of power was a sign that he was correct. Stiles didn’t think any of the Stones were on Earth but he did think they still existed. And, though his proof was ephemeral at best, Stiles was sure that they hated what they had been used to cause and knew what he wanted to do and were helping him as much as they could.

Stiles didn’t care that people all said that the Stones only worked together when in the Gauntlet. No one alive had even heard stories of the stones ever being successfully used together all at once before. And if they did still exist and weren’t destroyed like Thanos had claimed and believed, then that demonstrated a marked sentience and potentially sapience as well.

So, each candle color for the color of one of the Stones – red for Reality, blue for Space, green for Time, yellow for Mind, purple for Power, and orange for Soul. And the center disk was a dark brown candle, for the ritual and for Stiles. Brown for stability and protection and reliability and grounding in the Earth.

In each brazier, Stiles placed an herb or plant that matched in at least his thoughts each power the Stones held sway over – grass for utility and usefulness, iris for messages, ivy for eternal life and patience, pansy for mediation and happy thoughts, nasturtium for victory in battle, and zinnia for thoughts of missing friends. And in the brazier beneath the brown candle, he placed sassafras for foundation and considered choices.

Stiles poured a vial of the freely given blood of seven supernatural beings one in each brazier – an alpha werewolf, a beta werewolf, a hellhound, a yeti, a kitsune, a druid, and of course, in the center, the blood of a spark.

Stiles turned from his ritual preparations to face his alpha. “I’m ready to start. I’m sorry that I can’t go back and stop it all, stop the torment you went through for six years.”

Peter stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Stiles. “I helped you plan everything, Stiles. We’ve always been the researchers together. I have always understood the reasoning behind the timing you are aiming for. I know this will succeed and you’ll save everyone you can. What do you need from me now, Stiles?”

Stiles buried his head in Peter’s chest. “Just stay and watch. I don’t want to be alone.”

Peter nodded and scented Stiles one last time. “Anything, sweetheart.”

Stiles stepped back. “See you on the flip side, alpha.”

Stiles turned back to his ritual as Peter stepped back to the Nemeton. Stiles leaned over the hoop and blew softly on the wick of the brown candle. It was counterintuitive but Stiles had always found the idea of blowing a candle on to be cool and he was able to use the science of breath and motion to convince himself it would work. The wick lit and Stiles repeated the gesture to each candle in the outer circle.

Stiles then took a turquoise taper and blew it on and held it to each brazier, lighting the contents on fire. The turquoise was for clarity, calmness, and communication.

Stiles stepped back and watched as the plants turned to ash and combined with the blood and flowed down the channels into the center brazier and the wax melting from each candle, magically kept liquid, flowed down their channels to the center disk. When the center disk and the center brazier were filled to the top, Stiles focused all of his attention on the flame of the brown candle and focused his thoughts on the correct date. The flames went out and Stiles was gone.

Chapter 3

Thursday, December 23, 2010

Kamar-Taj, Kathmandu, Nepal

 

The Ancient One, the Sorcerer Supreme and leader of the order of sorcerers who called themselves the Masters of the Mystical Arts, stood staring at the Eye of Agamotto as it hovered above its pillar, the aperture opening and closing and the Time Stone within it glowing softly.

She had been asleep when a major ripple in the time stream woke her and drew her here. She was able to use the Eye but not with ease. It was not comfortable in her control and she respected that when she could.

But in her many centuries of life, she had never seen the Eye react like this, even to other ripples in the time stream or universe. As she stared at the softly glowing stone, she reached out with her powers to try to find and pinpoint the center of the ripple but her power was dissipated whenever it appeared to near one of the ripples’ centers.

As she reached out toward the Eye with her hand, it slid closed and returned to its normal quiescence on its pillar. Just as three portals opened in the hallway and the Masters of the Hong Kong, New York, and London sanctums appeared in Kamar-Taj with questions of their own. Questions she could not answer.

 

Thursday, December 23, 2010

Beacon Hills, California

 

Stiles opened his eyes and saw the ceiling of his childhood bedroom. He turned his head and saw his old Lenovo laptop from high school on his desk and his first smartphone on his nightstand.

That pinpointed somewhat that he was at least close to his target time because that phone bit the dust fairly early in his supernaturally aware life.

Stiles sat up and looked at his body – scrawny, and ran his hand over his head – buzz cut. He was definitely in his teenage body of either freshman or sophomore year.

Stiles hadn’t been sure if that would happen. When first planning, Stiles had presumed it would be like walking through a door and his 24-year-old self would appear in the past.

But after learning of the remnants of power within the ley lines, Stiles had considered that the ritual was more likely to use those remnants to move his mind, soul, and – Stiles flicked his hand and a pen floated across the room – power would be moved through time and space, changing his personal reality to fit him into his younger body. And it seems he was correct.

And this way was much less paradox creating, too, than a grown man who looked remarkably like an older Stiles appearing out of thin air with no background, history, paperwork, money, or life.

Stiles picked up the phone and tapped the screen on, looking at the date. He smiled. Perfect, almost exactly when he had been aiming for. Just off by two days. He opened the phone and looked at the calendar app. The only thing listed was “First Day of Winter Break!” in large capital letters.

Stiles rose to his feet and made his way to his closet and grabbed clothes. He had several things to accomplish during this fortuitous week off and he needed to get started.

Once showered, dressed, and fortified for the day ahead with breakfast – and can he say how disappointing it was to almost gag over the artificial taste of the Pop-Tarts, it was gross. It had only been less than eight months since he had regularly had processed food and now he couldn’t stand it. It wasn’t fair.

Stiles pondered his future of healthy meals as he washed his oatmeal bowl and spoon in the sink and laid them on a towel to drip dry. He knew it was hypocritical, considering his history of nagging his dad about his diet, but even he got to cheat once in a while. If Stiles found he now hated the taste of curly fries, someone was going to pay dearly.

Stiles went back to his bedroom and sat at his desk. His first steps were well researched and meticulously planned out, helped along with detailed instructions on the hacking needed – and how to not get caught or leave traces – by Danny. It helped that it was seven years earlier than the tech Stiles knew and the security was therefore seven years less prepared for the hacking Danny had taught him. And made him memorize since he couldn’t bring anything physical along with him.

Stiles made his way to the servers of a law firm in Chicago and to the files of a specific client. He found the will of the man he was looking for and began to modify it. When he was done, he printed it out remotely on his printer and used his magic to forge the signatures on the original document.

Stiles then translocated the new will to the folder in the law firm’s office where it belonged and summoned the original to him before destroying it. Stiles did some further work on the law firm’s servers, adding in new emails and paragraphs to previously existing emails.

Stiles hacked next into a Chicago PI’s system and adjusted some emails there and added some files to their physical cabinets. And then added and enhanced a bank trail or two. And did the same at a larger PI firm next.

Stiles knew that his meddling wouldn’t show results for a few days. It was too close to Christmas. But it should start to be felt before New Year’s.

After all, unlike schools on whatever level, other businesses in the United States didn’t close during the week between Christmas and New Year’s Day.

Once he had completed setting up the changes he needed to do online, Stiles logged into his school calendar to check on any homework assigned over the break. It had been seven years and he had no memory of what exactly was going on with high school but he wasn’t about to let time travel shenanigans interfere with his GPA when general supernatural nonsense had barely touched it.

Stiles looked over his three assignments, a five-paragraph English essay, a math worksheet with seven problems, and forty questions from the first third of the Chemistry textbook. God, Harris was always such a dick. He didn’t deserve to be brutally murdered by Jennifer/Julia but he was a Grade A douchecanoe.

Stiles made a schedule for the next few days with entries for his schoolwork and for his time travel shenanigans. The latter were cryptic and would mean nothing to anyone but him, just in case his dad took a gander.

Stiles wasn’t planning on doing the whole lying to his dad and keeping him in the dark thing this time around. It would be highly counterproductive. But he wanted to get the most vital parts moving or settled, depending, before he had the Big Reveal.

And speaking of his dad, Stiles needed to check on what his work schedule was set up for over break. That is, what the schedule was supposed to be, which is unlikely to be what it would actually end up being.

Not because he thought his dad would take time off but rather the reverse, that his dad would work extra hours so other deputies who had families could spend the holidays with them. And Stiles was perfectly aware of how fucked up that reasoning was considering the existence of Stiles himself in his dad’s life and custody.

But his dad was who his dad was and ever since Stiles’ mom had gotten sick, and especially after she died, his dad had become more than a bit of a workaholic.

Stiles logged into the sheriff’s department’s page using his dad’s credentials, something he had been doing since he first figured out how to do it and wrote down the schedule of his dad and made a note of deputies with kids who were scheduled in the next three days – Christmas Eve through Boxing Day, and the three days around New Year’s, as well.

Stiles didn’t recall what days or nights his dad had worked this time during his last time living this life because it hadn’t been unusual and Stiles’ own life had been it’s monotonous normal until after the new year began and he went looking for half a dead body in the woods with Scott. But he was fairly sure the man would cover at least a few hours of shifts for a few of the deputies.

Stiles logged out of the sheriff’s department page and hacked his way into the hospital’s administration department. Thinking about his dad’s schedule had made him wonder about this one. He looked over the schedules for the next two weeks or so and wrote them down,

Stiles needed the information so he could adequately stalk, that is tail, his victim. Maybe he should call her his mark? It didn’t sound as serial killery. More spyish.

Whatever.

He needed to know when she would be off so he could arrange her permanent loss of job. Which again sounded more ominous than it should.

He wasn’t going to kill her. Maim her a bit, sort of. And then get her sent to prison. Which was arguably better than what happened to her the last time around when she had been dead and in the trunk of her own car.

Peter hadn’t wanted to admit what had happened there but knew Stiles had needed to know. And Derek wasn’t around to find out and carry the guilt.

When Derek had cold-cocked her in the hospital’s hallway to protect Stiles, he had broken her neck. And after the whole confrontation was over, Peter had cleaned up after his nephew as had been his previous job in the pack.

Granted, Stiles hoped he had been better at it back then before the fire had toasted his brain and he hadn’t just dumped people in the trunks of their cars and left them there to rot.

To be fair, though, the woman was evil. Purely human but utterly evil.

Stiles had read all about Peter’s nurse, Jennifer, in Deaton’s journals. Deaton had uncovered some horrible secrets about what she did with her helpless patients – and it ranged from perverted to murderous. But instead of turning her in, Deaton had recruited her with the promise of power – becoming a werewolf – if she helped him lure Laura back to Beacon Hills.

Something that everyone blamed Peter for. Even Peter himself had believed it because before he got the alpha upgrade to begin healing his higher human brain functions, he had been feral and mad and could barely recall that time with any coherence. So he had taken the heat for it from Derek and from Scott when it had been Deaton all along.

But she was working the night shift so Stiles had time before he tried to put his initial plans for her in motion. He sat at his desk and pulled out the math worksheet, getting it done in less than half an hour. Then he turned to Harris’ Chemistry questions. Stiles got five of them answered before it was time for him to do some scouting and preliminary work on the Nurse Jennifer situation.

Stiles drove Roscoe to a parking spot a few blocks from her home but in a more commercial area, so if any deputies saw it they wouldn’t find it suspicious. He walked down her block and when a house away, he wiggled his fingers and his boot came untied.

Stiles had specifically worn lace-up hiking boots for this very purpose. He didn’t think anyone would think his presence here odd, not even his mark. There was a really good deli around the corner at the end of this block but it was well known for its shitty parking situation.

And Stiles should have no idea about supernatural shenanigans at this point in time as far as anyone knew. And he wouldn’t know Peter Hale except possibly by name as someone from the family whose house burned down.

But Stiles was still cautious. There was no need to spook his mark or any future marks who might be around for any reason – like Deaton.

Stiles knelt down and loosened his laces down several crossovers before very obviously tightening them one section at a time. With each pull, Stiles added a couple of extra finger flourishes directed at the car in the driveway of the evil nurse’s house.

Stiles straightened up and continued down the street, brushing off his pant knee as he passed the driveway. He was being very unobtrusive with his magic.

Even if there wasn’t a formal Statute of Secrecy like in Harry Potter, Stiles still didn’t want to out the supernatural in any way. And people weren’t used to stuff popping up like mutants and Inhumans and stuff like they would be in a few years, post the Battle of New York.

So caution was the word of the day. And week and month and year and – whatever, just the word of life going forward.

Stiles made his way to the deli and grabbed a sandwich and a couple of donuts. He sat near the window and ate his sandwich slowly. When he finished, he walked back down the street towards Roscoe’s location and just glanced curiously at the houses as he did.

This time he could see his mark in her uniform walking towards the back of the house. She didn’t seem to have keys in her hand and it was a bit early for her to be leaving yet. But Stiles still picked up his pace. He needed to be in Roscoe and ready to move when she left her house for work.

Stiles slid into the driver’s seat and put his keys in the ignition. His proximity alarm hadn’t gone off which meant her car hadn’t left the driveway yet. He took out a donut and took a bite. Any deputies who might stop if they saw him just sitting here and not leaving, wouldn’t think twice about him sitting here munching.

After fifteen minutes of slowly eating two donuts, his alarm went off in his ear. It was a matter of enhancing the sound waves to produce a certain tone in his ear when pressed on, like a walkie-talkie’s button to his ear as the receiver.

Stiles pulled out onto the street and slowly drove parallel and slightly ahead of the most logical route for the Evil Nurse to take to work. When he reached the highway overpass on the street he was on, he turned left towards the street she would be coming down and stopped at the red light just before this highway overpass on his right.

He saw her coming down the block to his left and flicked a finger off his steering wheel towards her car.

The car sped up as her gas pedal jammed and when she obviously tried to slow down or use her breaks, the car skidded and went into a violent spin. Stiles put his Jeep in reverse and backed up.

The nurse’s car hit the curb and went airborne for a few seconds and when it came back down it was crooked and spun around again diagonally across the intersection. It was still going fast and slammed hard into the retaining wall of the overpass, pancaking around the corner of it, the car practically bent in half.

Stiles grabbed his phone and dialed 911. He knew she was still alive, his magic had reinforced the safety features of the car to ensure it but she should also be very badly hurt. Too badly hurt to work for weeks. Or months.

And by then, she would have bigger problems as the cops would uncover her proclivities and activities. Stiles would make sure of it.

Stiles climbed out of his car and hurried across the street to the car as the dispatcher picked up the call.

“9-1-1, what is the nature of the emergency?” Asked the dispatcher. Stiles recognized the voice, he knew so many of them both from his childhood growing up at the station and from his future as a deputy. This one was from both.

“I need to report a really bad accident at Howell Street and the Mountain Highway Overpass. It wasn’t me but I saw it. I can’t get to the driver, she’s unconscious but I can see her chest moving, she’s breathing. It’s really, really bad, Ginger. The car is like folded around the corner of the wall. And I can see blood on the driver.”

“Stiles? Is that you? Stay away, I’m sending the rescue squad. Just stay back.”

Stiles knelt down and looked under the car, his phone against his head held in one hand and the other held up to his eyes as he seemingly peered under the car. In reality, he was directing his distance telekinesis spell to plant the evidence that he appropriated from her hiding spot into the car as if she was taking it to work.

“I’m not too close, I know I can’t get her out. There’s no way that passenger door is opening without mechanical help. Or someone a whole lot stronger than me. The driver’s side is against the wall and she’s like tilted over the center console towards the passenger’s seat. But I’m looking under the car and I don’t see any fluids. I don’t know how but it’s like this lady was really lucky. It’s probably a miracle the gas tank didn’t rupture when she hit the overpass wall. Or at least one of the pipes or tubes coming loose or leaking.”

The dispatcher spoke urgently. “Stiles, just get up and back away. You’re helping enough by talking to me.”

Stiles stood up and circled around the car to another angle as people started coming out of the nearby businesses to look at the accident.

“I’m trying to get you the information so you can patch it through to the first responders. I don’t want them walking into something if I can see an issue before they arrive.”

Ginger sighed. “Stiles, your help is appreciated but they have gear and protective equipment that you don’t. They are just a few minutes out. Back up now and get out of the way.”

Stiles walked back towards Roscoe as he heard the sirens approaching. “I wasn’t that close, Ginger. I promise. I never even got close enough to touch the car. I was just looking at things as best as I could so you had the full information.”

Stiles climbed into Roscoe and put the call on speaker. “I’m moving Roscoe out of the way, I can hear them coming.”

Stiles made a three-point turn and pulled Roscoe into a parking spot facing away from the accident. Less than thirty seconds after he pulled in, the ambulance and fire engine buzzed past him.

Stiles grabbed his phone and got out again, standing on the corner across the street diagonally from the accident. “They’re here. Thanks, Ginger.”

Ginger sighed. “Thank you for your help, Stiles. Stay where you are and a deputy will be there to take your statement shortly. And so will your dad.”

Stiles sighed exasperatedly as the deputy’s car pulled up. “I’m not hurt, it wasn’t even close. I just reported it.”

“Nevertheless.”

“Bye, Ginger.”

One of the deputies, Franklin Williams, approached the accident while the other, Lincoln West, came up to Stiles just as the Sheriff’s cruiser pulled into the intersection. Stiles sighed. He was thrilled to see his dad but he knew it would be difficult, too. For multiple reasons.

Deputy West nodded to Stiles’ dad as they came up to Stiles. “Hey, Stiles. I know you called in the accident and I know that you know how this goes. I’m gonna get a preliminary statement from you now and later have you come into the station for a more complete one.”

Stiles nodded. “And where is this station of yours?”

West smiled. “Funny guy. I thought you weren’t involved and didn’t hit your head.”

Stiles chuckled as his dad rolled his eyes at the banter. “Yeah, yeah. Fine. Preliminary statement. I was at the red light on Gardener with Mountain Highway 42 on my right. I was looking up Howell and saw the car just floor it and speed towards the intersection. Then it looked like she lost control and went into a skid and I went into reverse to get out of the way but she hit the curb and spun and pancaked herself into the retaining wall. It was lucky no one was waiting at the light on the other side of Gardener or walking across the street. She just didn’t seem to have any control of the car after it sped up.”

West looked up from his notepad. “Why were you looking up Howell?”

Stiles tilted his head. “I dunno. I just turned my head, the light had only been red for less than ten seconds so I knew it wouldn’t change for another minute or so since the timers are set to one minute fifteen seconds during the week. I don’t think I heard anything or saw anything peripherally. Not that I recall. But she didn’t start speeding down for several seconds after I was looking so, I don’t think it was a factor.”

The deputy nodded. “All right. And after the accident?”

Stiles shrugged. “I went over to see if I could help. I knew as soon as I was close that I wouldn’t be able to get the door opened but I could see she was alive, her chest was moving. So, I reported it and just looked around to see if the car was leaking gas or fluids. I didn’t get too close, I swear.”

West closed his notepad. “Okay, thanks, Stiles. Come down to the station tomorrow to give a full report, okay?”

Stiles smiled. “You got it.”

As the deputy walked over to the accident scene, Stiles’ dad took a step closer. “Hey, kiddo. You okay?”

Stiles smiled and nodded. “Sure thing. She didn’t even come close to Roscoe. I had him in reverse and was ready to floor it if she spun in my direction but she hit the curb and slid the other way. It was really lucky I was the only one at the intersection, there wasn’t a car behind me so I could have just kept backing up and there wasn’t a car across from me or driving under the overpass towards her, so she just wrecked her own car. And no one was walking down the street or across it. So, luck, I guess. Bad luck for her, I mean, but good luck for others, and for her, too, since it means she didn’t hurt or kill anyone. Other than herself. And I mean, I didn’t smell anything on her but I didn’t get close either, so the only thing I can definitively state is that she wasn’t carrying an open container, ‘cause it would have spilled and I would have smelled that, definitely. So, she could have been drunk or under the influence but it could have just been bad luck and not her own bad judgment.”

His dad smiled. “The hospital will run the blood work, you know that.”

Stiles nodded and deliberately continued rambling. “Yeah, it’s not like you can get her out and give her a sobriety test. She’s unconscious and probably broke some bones. She couldn’t walk a straight line for anything but it wouldn’t mean a thing. Since she’s unconscious for so long she almost certainly has a concussion which can mimic the effects of being drunk or high in a field test. And she can’t blow a breathalyzer since, you know, she isn’t awake. And breathalyzer tests don’t catch non-alcohol issues.”

His dad sighed. “I know, Stiles. And I know your thoughts on the unevenness of the sobriety checkpoints of drunk versus high. I’ve seen your PowerPoint, you know. Several times.”

Stiles nodded and let the adrenaline spiking in his body show visible signs. “Right, it’s just that the checkpoints are inherently geared towards -“

Stiles’ dad put his hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “I know, kiddo. Why don’t you go pick up something to eat. Sit down for a while.”

Stiles spun on his heel to look behind him and flailed. “Huh? I’m fine. I just need to get back to what I was doing, Daddio. Just a few last-minute gifts for Christmas, ya know. Stocking stuffers and all. Scott is at work, grabbing some good hours since he’s off school and all.”

His dad nodded. “Okay, well, you can get back to that later. Right now you’re in shock a bit, the adrenaline in your body from witnessing the accident and its aftermath is leaving and you need to calm down. I don’t want you behind the wheel for at least an hour. You should have stopped shaking by then.”

Stiles held his hand out in front of him and the tremors were obvious. He knew they would be. “Okay, yeah, okay. And food will help settle my body and right. Okay.”

His dad waved his arm at the three restaurants on the block. “Pick one and have a meal. I’ll be home after my shift, around 6.”

Stiles took the bill his dad took from his wallet. “Right. I think I’m in the mood for Mexican. Tacos or enchiladas. Maybe I’ll get a burrito.”

Stiles’ dad hugged him, the best hugs there were. “You do that.”

Stiles walked over to the Mexican restaurant after giving his dad a wave, knowing the man was watching him. As he stepped into the lobby, he glanced back and smiled. His dad waved his hand and smiled back.

The hostess led Stiles to a small table for two by the window. He chose the seat facing the accident. The first responders had finally gotten the door open and were lifting Evil Nurse out of the wreck.

Stiles glanced over the menu as he kept one eye on the scene. He was very pleased with who had gotten the assignment for the accident from the sheriff’s station.

Stiles cared about all the deputies to varying degrees but it couldn’t be denied that some of them were not the greatest investigators. And others were corrupt or at least certainly had the possibility of being corrupted – Deputy Haigh the hellhound attempted assassin, anyone? And a few were just waiting out their years until retirement.

But the two assigned were good cops, smart and savvy. They would do their jobs properly and follow the evidence trail Stiles had magicked into the car. None of it was really planted. Not made up, at least. Stiles had just taken it from where Evil Nurse had it and put it in a bag in the car instead. So all the forensic evidence of fingerprints and stuff wasn’t faked.

And Stiles had checked her computer and found that she had kept the blackmail letters, or rather emails, from Deaton. It was highly likely the shady vet would go down with her.

A man – a boy – a boy’s body whose mind was a man’s could hope, right?

Stiles slowly ate his burrito and nachos as he gazed out the window and watched the scene be processed. There wasn’t anything he could get done now. He had vaguely hoped to get to see Peter but hadn’t counted on it happening today, not with Stiles knowing that he would be at Evil Nurse’s accident scene.

Stiles couldn’t control how the aftermath of that went down beyond calling it in and pretending to check on the driver and the car while he put the metaphoric noose around her neck.

But with his dad showing up and seeing him and Stiles having to let his body act as it would have if both his body and his mind were his body’s age and he hadn’t been involved in any supernatural shenanigans yet. And Stiles had lost the somewhat stoicness he had perfected during his mom’s illness by this point in his first go round.

So, since he was seen as a teenager who just witnessed a near-fatal accident, his dad would actually make sure he had the night off so he was there if Stiles needed him. His dad loved him. Stiles knew that. But it couldn’t be denied that he threw himself into first the bottom of a bottle of alcohol and then into his work after he lost his wife.

And Stiles was actually fairly satisfied with what he had accomplished. He got things started with the whole Scott problem, more or less, and he made Peter safer by taking his psychotic nurse out of the equation. Fair deal for one day’s work. And the first day at that.

 

Friday, December 24, 2010

 

Stiles walked into the kitchen and sat at the small table. His dad slid a plate with an omelet and turkey bacon – the only type in the house – in front of both of their seats.

“So,” his dad said as he sat down, “I’m due on shift at 3 this afternoon and I’ll basically be working a double. I’ll catch a few hours overnight at the station but it’s Christmas Eve and then Christmas and the deputies with families deserve to be able to be with them.”

Stiles scooped up a forkful of omelet. “I know, Daddio.”

“And you’re doing alright. You weren’t hurt yesterday, just a bit overwhelmed. It’s normal, kiddo.” He picked up a piece of bacon and gave it a sorrowful look before he took a bite. “If you needed me, I’d be here, but once you got home last night, you were fine. You’re a grown kid. You can handle it.”

Stiles nodded, inwardly sighing. “No problem. What time are you off shift tomorrow?”

His dad tilted his head. “I should be home by 8 tomorrow night barring any major catastrophes.”

“Okay. Just let me know if you’re gonna be held up so I can keep your dinner warm.”

His dad chuckled, “Sure thing, Stiles. And dinner’s gonna be a real dinner, right? It is Christmas.”

Stiles smiled. “Real dinner but healthy, too. No tofu and real meat, I promise. In moderation, dad!”

The two turned their attentions to their meals and when they were done, Stiles stood to do the dishes while his father shaved. It was a routine.

Stiles loved his dad, he always had. And he knew the man loved him and would be there for him when he needed it. But it was an undeniable truth that Stiles had accepted by the time his age hit double digits that a part of the man had died with his wife.

His dad was a good man and most of his friends considered him a great father, but that wasn’t saying much when you looked at the low bar for fathers that Rafe McCall or David Whittemore or Coach Lahey or Lance Martin set.

His dad wasn’t a horrible father, he was neglectful at most. At least once he stopped drinking himself into a stupor every night. But he focused so much on work that he did ignore Stiles.

And hearing the excuse of working on a holiday like Christmas Eve and Christmas so that deputies who had families, who had little children or grandchildren, could be with them for putting out the milk and cookies and opening the stockings, had been absolutely shattering when Stiles was 9.

With every holiday – not just Christmas – that he used the excuse, it hurt a tiny bit less. Or possibly Stiles just got better at compartmentalizing his hurt feelings. That his dad didn’t consider that he himself had a family to spend the holiday with, that he himself had a child to leave out milk and cookies for Santa and to watch open stockings on Christmas morning, it was a killer.

Even now, when Stiles was mentally in his mid-twenties, it was unpleasant, to say the least. He still remembered clearly the first Christmas after his mom died. His dad worked all night Christmas Eve and most of Christmas Day. And Stiles fully let go of any lingering belief he had at 9 years old in Santa Claus when he came down Christmas morning and the cookies and milk that he had put out before going to bed hadn’t been touched and the stocking hung on the mantel was still flat and empty.

The next year, Stiles hadn’t bothered to even hang one up or any year since. And his dad never said a word about it. Even that first year, his dad never bothered to fill the stocking after he got home. It emphasized to Stiles even then that his mom had been the one to care like that.

Regardless, as Stiles finished drying the last dish, he nodded to himself. His dad being on shift was something he had planned on and counted on. It would give him plenty of time to see Peter and begin his healing plan.

Later that afternoon Stiles made his way into the long-term care wing of the hospital. He was carrying a duffel bag and wearing his backpack. He was ready for what lay ahead.

He opened the door to Peter’s room and closed it behind him, taking out a marker and sketching a few symbols on it to hold his magic. It would essentially make the door and the room invisible to people, both by sight and camera – not that there were any cameras near here that worked anyway – and to sound and even thoughts.

The nurses and orderlies and volunteers wouldn’t even think to look for Peter, especially as Stiles had removed his name and room from the room and medicine delivery forms in the computers and grabbed the physical copies as he came past the often empty reception desk in this section of the hospital.

Peter was seated in a chair facing the window and hadn’t even turned his head when Stiles came in. Stiles knew that, unlike after he had the alpha spark, Peter wasn’t faking his catatonic state now. The wolf was able to take partial control the closer it was to the full moon but the man, the human, was still locked in his memories.

Stiles placed his bags on the bed and pulled a chair so he could sit face to face with Peter. He sat down and reached out his hands and took Peter’s. Stiles rubbed his fingers over the backs and fingers of Peter’s hands while he reached out for the empty place inside himself where his pack bonds had been.

He found the spot shaped like Peter and pushed with his magic. Gradually, oh so slowly, the hole began to fill. Stiles began to feel a connection again. Thirty minutes after sitting down, Stiles opened his eyes and met the icy, glowing blue eyes of Peter. Stiles could tell that this was still the wolf and he raised a hand and scented Peter’s cheek.

The wolf whined and Stiles leaned forward and rubbed his cheek along Peter’s, providing a deeper, more intimate scenting, and Peter’s body relaxed.

“You’re not alone anymore, Peter. I’m here and I’m pack.”

Stiles spent ten minutes snuggled up to Peter, petting him and affirming their bond, allowing the wolf to begin to settle. And taking comfort in the presence of the bond himself.

When Peter’s eyes slipped closed, Stiles laid a hand on Peter’s head, opposite the scars, and began to feel with his magic. Stiles wasn’t able to magically heal someone due to his logicality but he could use his magic to activate and/or speed up someone’s own healing factor. Especially when their normal healing was already regularly accelerated through supernatural means.

And Stiles could direct the healing factor to certain areas. Or away from certain areas. And now he was doing both. Much of Peter’s internal injuries had slowly healed over his years in the coma and then catatonic state. But the more complicated injuries – such as his brain – and the more cosmetic injuries – like his scars – had not healed much.

Stiles was going to direct Peter’s healing of his brain and stop the scars – at least the facial ones – from healing. Stiles was also going to severely dull the memories of the fire and the pain of the past six years.

Stiles wouldn’t remove the memories but before he traveled back, future Peter had asked him to dull the immediacy of them for past Peter. He would recall what happened but it would be from a distance of six years, not a loop of never-ending current time. And the pain of his coma and after would be dulled like the memories of pain usually dulled themselves to protect from insanity.

Peter would wake up fully compos mentis and able to understand and not fixate on revenge and murder. It would just take a while, which was why Stiles was grateful for his dad’s workaholic habits for holidays.

A couple of hours after he arrived, Stiles sat back from Peter with a sigh. Stiles wasn’t actually doing much but it used energy and concentration. Fortunately, it didn’t require full and total concentration since even his older self had still had ADHD, though it had evened out some from the height of his issues. But ADHD was a brain issue, not a matter of willpower and his current body was filled to the brim with the wrong level of chemicals from his shitty brain.

As Stiles rubbed his face and blinked, Peter’s eyes opened. Stiles looked at him and met his normal, human blue eyes. “Hi, Peter. My name is Stiles and we’re pack. I know you’re confused. And I promise I will explain everything to you eventually but for now, just relax.”

Peter blinked and inhaled. “What’s a Stiles?”

Stiles smiled. “It’s the name I called myself when people, including me, couldn’t easily pronounce my given birth name. You’re safe. We’re in the hospital’s long-term care wing. The fire that you were in happened six years ago. And you’ve been here slowly healing since then.”

Peter frowned. “My – family? Dead?”

Stiles laid his hand on Peter’s. “Not all of them but most, yes. Laura, Derek, and Cora survived, though the first two don’t know about the last. I know it is confusing. And I am going to be weird and know things that you have no idea how I could know them. And I do promise to explain, likely within a couple of days, a week at most. For now, just accept that I know what I know. And I’m helping your healing. I’m magic and I know you’re a werewolf. But you’re not an omega. If you look, you can feel our pack bond.”

Peter was silent for a minute. “I didn’t know you.”

Stiles shook his head. “We may have met before but I was just a kid at the time so if so, I don’t remember. I’m near Cora’s age. I’m sixteen, currently.”

Peter’s eyebrows furrowed. “You lied.”

Stiles huffed. “It is a very long story which you will get when we are in a better place, security-wise and when you are in a better state mentally healing-wise. But I was born close to a year before Cora.”

Peter nodded. “Laura and Derek? Where are they?”

Stiles sighed. “Laura took Derek and ran. It is horrible but not entirely. It wasn’t totally her fault. Not what she did six years ago, anyway. For now, you’ve been healing harder than you have for six years and I know you must be hungry. Your body isn’t used to heavy foods yet even as a werewolf and I’d rather your healing factor focus on your brain and not your stomach because you were prideful and stubborn.”

Stiles got up and opened his backpack and took out an insulated food bag. He grabbed a lidded cup from inside and a spoon from his duffel bag. He closed the insulated bag and turned back to Peter.

“It’s a light soup, mostly broth, miso. From the place you like on Barrens Avenue. I have other, heavier fare for later.”

Stiles took the lid off the cup and steam rose from it. Peter blinked. “How long have you been here? The soup is – hot.”

Stiles smiled. “Magic, dude. I can’t heat something up from scratch, not yet anyway. But increase the efficiency of an insulated container so it works exactly as it should and not as a stopgap? Yeah, that I can do. Now have your miso and I’ll have some, too and then we can get back to work on the healing of your brain so we can get you out of this joint.”

Stiles worked on and off with breaks for stretching and bathroom and just focusing on something else for a little while. And for moving Peter to the bed to rest himself more comfortably and back to the chair after he slept. And of course, for eating.

Over the course of the rest of Christmas Eve and through Christmas Day, Stiles increased the solidity of the food he fed Peter, ending with some traditional Christmas dinner featuring ham, among other things.

Stiles made sure to reassure Peter each time they took a break as Peter became more and more settled and sane as his brain healed from its physical traumas. Stiles explained that the room was protected and warded. He mentioned the fact that Peter’s regular night nurse had a car accident and was in the hospital herself. He even brought up the fact that the other regular nurses and orderlies from this wing all had off for the holiday and it was staffed by temps.

It was nearly 6 in the evening when Stiles sat back from the last healing session and presented Peter with his Christmas dinner.

“I had hoped we could get you out of here and to the safe house tonight. But it took longer than I wanted to accelerate your healing factor. You were more of a mess than even you realized.” Stiles sighed. “And I have to be home before my dad gets off shift at 8. And I don’t want you out by yourself just yet. Not until you understand the full situation which I really don’t want to talk about here, no matter how secure the room is.”

Stiles rolled his neck. “But we will get you out of here tomorrow. I know my dad will be working and I can spend most of the day getting you up to speed. And there’s going to be a lot for you to unpack, dude. So just rest tonight. Get your first pain-free night’s sleep in years, okay? And tomorrow, we progress onward.”

“The room, even when you leave, no one will know I am here?”

Stiles shook his head. “I anchored the magics to runes I drew on the door frame. And the paperwork in the computer says you were transferred yesterday. No worries, Peter. Trust me.”

Stiles leaned forward and scented Peter, knowing he would be relaxing both sides of Peter by doing so. After Peter finished his meal, Stiles cleaned up the trash and left the insulated bag on the table.

“There’s a few more things in there. Some snack stuff, jerky, trail mix, like that. And a double cheeseburger for later tonight – you need the protein and the food, your body has worked really hard healing you – and a few breakfast sandwiches with sausage and egg. Drink the water, too. The thermos will keep it cool and won’t run out. It kind of pulls water from the air and stuff.”

Peter wrapped his arms around Stiles and ran his hands up and down Stiles’ back. Stiles brushed their cheeks together and ran his hands up and down Peter’s arms and sides, never going higher than his shoulders.

Stiles left Peter with a book he knew he wanted to read thanks to future Peter’s information and headed home, dodging the hallways with working cameras by 7:30. He got home twenty minutes before his dad came in and they ate the ham dinner Stiles had made and shared with Peter earlier before opening the Christmas presents they had gotten one another.

Chapter 4

December 26, 2010

Beacon Hills, California

 

Stiles walked into Peter’s hospital room with a smile. “Ready to blow this joint?”

Peter huffed. “That is abominable. But, yes. What if someone sees me?”

Stiles shook his head. “First off, I made this.”

Stiles handed Peter a bracelet. It was made of dried grasses and tree bark. Peter’s eyebrows rose.

Stiles shrugged. “It isn’t much or even close to permanent but once you have it on, people will not consciously register your presence. They will see you but it won’t stick in their short-term memory and thus will never be able to be saved into their long-term memory. You just have to follow the route I take you out of here to avoid cameras. And avoid actually interacting with anyone, verbally or physically. The bracelet only covers sight.”

“How convoluted is your route out of here to avoid cameras?”

Stiles chuckled. “You’ll see lots of cameras on the walls but over 80% of them don’t actually work. They got busted and the hospital was too cheap or budget-strapped to fix them if they weren’t of best use. Like, the cameras in the ambulance bay and emergency room, the main entrance to the hospital inside and out, all of the drug dispensaries and the pharmacy, the cameras focused on the elevators on each floor, and of course, the cameras in the maternity wing and nursery, all of those are functioning.”

Stiles waved his hands around. “None of the ones in the stairwells work anymore, nor do any of the ones in this wing, at all. Other than the single one aimed at the elevator which isn’t actually in the wing as the elevator is on the other side of the doors that lead here.”

Stiles smiled wryly. “We’ll be going out by the loading dock to get out but otherwise, this place’s security is horrendous. You could even steal a body from the morgue or wheel a patient down there without it being detected on any cameras. Or have a supernatural fight with throwing people through glass barriers and no one would know what had really happened. It’s crazy.”

Peter’s mouth opened and then closed for a moment before opening again. Several times. Then he just sighed. “Very well. I packed up anything even remotely ‘personal’ in the room.”

Stiles aimed finger guns at Peter. “Great thought!”

Peter rolled his eyes and approached Stiles. He reached out a hand and ran it over Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles smiled and returned the gesture. “Let’s go. Remember, follow me and don’t talk or bump into anyone.”

Stiles proceeded to lead Peter on a somewhat meandering path through the hospital before they arrived at the loading dock. As they approached the regular door, Peter laid a hand on Stiles’ back. Stiles looked back and Peter shook his head.

Peter leaned close and whispered very lowly right into Stiles’ ear. “I can hear someone right outside the door. She’s on her phone, making an appointment for a meeting tomorrow. If we go out the door, we won’t be able to avoid bumping into her.”

Stiles nodded and gestured down the hall to a doorway. They went in and waited another five minutes until the dock’s door opened and the nurse walked into the hospital’s hallway. Stiles peeked through the gap in the door as she headed to the elevator and waited until she got on before gesturing to Peter to follow again.

When they got outside and Stiles led Peter to his Jeep, parked a few blocks away, as conspicuous as it was, Stiles huffed out a breath. “Good catch, dude. That nurse actually knows me really well and would have definitely had questions about why I was at the hospital. And she’d likely have told my dad, too.”

Stiles waved his hand in the direction of the hospital as they drove off. “She’s like a second mom to me.” Stiles jerked his head and flailed for a second.

“Not like a stepmom! She’s not dating my dad. She’s the mother of my best friend from like elementary school. And she and my dad are both single parents, though she’s divorced, not widowed. And they both have demanding jobs with long hours and when we were younger, it was easier to just share babysitters and all after Scott and I became friends.”

Peter nodded. “And he is still your best friend? Or he was then and now is not as close?”

Stiles snorted. “You’re good. We’re friends and until a few days ago would have been characterized as best. But when I changed, which I will explain once we’re at the cabin and I can talk freely without worrying about crashing the car, when I changed it is different. So, so different. I love him like a brother but I also know he isn’t as there for me as I always was for him. So, whatever.”

Peter nodded. “I’ll wait to query further then.”

“Thanks, dude.”

“Must you? Honestly, must you?”

Stiles shrugged. “It’s a habit. And knowing it bothers you, it makes me more likely to not stop than the reverse.”

Peter sighed and they progressed in silence to the “road” closest to the cabin. Once he parked the Jeep on the mostly overgrown path that was the biggest to the cabin and was he so thankful the Jeep had four-wheel drive after that road, Stiles and Peter hiked the quarter of a mile through the Preserve to the cabin.

It was the Hale’s safe house, where they were to meet after bad stuff going down, and Peter had used it during his alpha phase after he had left the hospital in the previous timeline. But future Peter had told Stiles that the place had been in bad shape when he got there, so Stiles was expecting the worst.

But when they turned the last corner, the place looked fine from the outside. There were no broken windows, the door wasn’t off its hinges, the paint needed some work, and the yard, so to speak, needed a lot of TLC to even approach horrible curb appeal, but it was fine otherwise.

So what, Stiles wondered silently, had happened over the next month or so to cause it to degrade so quickly? What, or more likely, who?

Not Derek. Unlikely to be Laura. Possibly Deaton. Or Kate, if she knew about it from Derek. Maybe Nurse Jennifer if Peter told her about it. Or, potentially, some random person or persons or creature, stumbled across it and trashed it.

Peter walked around to the rear of the cabin to find the key while Stiles remained in front. He knew where the key was, future Peter had told him in case the cabin was intact, but now Peter didn’t know about that yet.

Peter unlocked the door and they went inside. It wasn’t a big place, really just three rooms, the bathroom in the back, a bedroom, and a large open room that served as a living room, dining area, and kitchen which was dominated by a large stone fireplace on one wall.

The room was in good shape, with some cobwebs and dust, okay lots of them but not enough to be like wondering where the vampires were. And the furniture was intact, including a rustic dining table with a folded piece of paper in the middle of it.

Peter grabbed the note and opened it, his eyes skimming over it. His lips thinned as he read it and his eyebrows lowered. Stiles had a guess as to what it was but he waited.

After several minutes and obviously a fair number of read-throughs, Peter placed the note back on the table. He turned to Stiles. “You said Cora survived. The note is from her to any pack member that might have made it out or far-flung family that weren’t members of the Hale pack anymore but might come looking. She waited here for over a week for anyone else to come. And she took some money from the safe and was headed to a pack far away. She made it?”

Stiles nodded. “Yeah. She made her way to South America. There’s a pack there where your great aunt married into? Or was it great-great-aunt? But yeah, she traveled by foot a lot once she crossed into Mexico. Until then she had gotten a few buses and hid in the trailers of a few eighteen-wheelers.”

Peter sighed. “She was only ten.”

Stiles shrugged. “You were incapacitated and Laura and Derek skipped town. And she was dealing with the loss of all of those pack bonds and an alpha bond, too. And trying not to go omega and feral. She did really great. Cora’s a tough bitch.”

Peter turned to Stiles. “Is she in contact with you? Why?”

Stiles shook his head. “No. I don’t know if she even remembers me. We were in class together but it’s been a long time. No, I know what I know due to that thing I told you I would tell you about later when we were secure.”

Peter glances around and tilts his head for a moment. “There’s no one around for miles. We’re as secure as we’re going to get.”

Stiles nodded. “Let’s sit down. This isn’t gonna be a short conversation and you’re gonna have to really expand your belief. Or suspend it. But it is all true. It’s a long, long, long story with lots of twists and turns but the gist of it is that I’m from the future, about eight years in the future. I’m a spark, I know you know what that is. And things went to total shit and well, I figured out how to fix it. Or at least try.”

Peter blinked. “Time travel? What’s next, aliens?”

Stiles smiled wryly. “As a matter of fact, yes. You’ve missed a lot over your years in a coma and catatonic, Peter.” Stiles ran his hand over Peter’s wrist. “There are comic book-like superheroes and supervillains out there now. There’s a guy, Tony Stark, who flies around in a mechanized suit of armor and takes out terrorists. And there’s another guy, a scientist who had an experiment go way wrong and he turns into a giant green monster with super strength when he’s too angry. And I mean giant, he’s huge. They call him the Hulk.”

Peter’s eyes widened with each statement. “And is the supernatural widely known?”

Stiles shook his head. “No. Not even eight years from now. But it wouldn’t be nearly as big a thing if we just wait a few years. In a little over a year, aliens are going to invade New York City. They’re stopped by a group of superheroes and over the next few years, more of them come out of the woodwork, enhanced humans, human mutates, Inhumans, mutants. It’s a crazy world, Peter, a crazy universe.”

Peter blinked and stared at Stiles.

“Things go bad, Peter. I mean, yeah, if I can’t change more things here in Beacon Hills, a lot of people are going to die, both ones I know and care about and others who are strangers. But I’m not quite that selfish and self-absorbed as to do something as drastic as time travel just because I lost some people.”

Stiles ran his hand over his head, missing his hair and looking forward to the time his buzz cut grew out. “And if that was the reason I did this, to stop the Hellmouth that Beacon Hills became for a good while, I would have traveled back further and stopped the fire and actually a few things that happened not too long before the fire to stop other bad shit. But I couldn’t go back that far and still hope that things I really, really, really needed to change and effect would still be the same.”

Stiles sighed. “But this isn’t about just the bad stuff happening in Beacon Hills. It isn’t even about California or the West Coast or the United States. It isn’t even just about Earth, though that was the major push for me.”

Stiles laid a hand on Peter’s shoulder and grabbed Peter’s hand with his other hand and held onto it. “There’s a Big Bad out there in the universe, Peter. And he’s insane and he’s powerful and he’s got a plan, a hope, a desire. He wants to end half of all life in the universe. And in about seven years, he’s going to be able to construct a weapon that can do it. Trillions and trillions and trillions of people in the universe, gone in an instant, turned to dust and ash. Half of all life, gone. Half of all people, half of all animals, half -“

“Animals?” Peter was incredulous.

Stiles nodded. “From what I understand, the weapon he used was based on his thoughts and he’d been preaching for years and years about the universe being overpopulated. And I think he meant to just take out sentient, sapient life to fix the problem he believed to exist. But the weapon wasn’t exactly smart, it didn’t read his intentions, it read his thoughts. And his thoughts, his wish, was to take out half of all life.”

Peter shook his head. “But animals?”

Stiles nodded. “Half of all sentient, sapient life, yes. Also half of all animals, from birds to bugs, from fish to cattle, from frogs to algae, even bacteria. And the weapon had a very broad definition for life. It took out half of all plants, too. Flowers, trees, grass, crops, everything. And Earth got especially unlucky in the random selection.”

Peter tilted his head as Stiles paused. After a few moments, his eyes widened. “The Nemetons?”

Stiles sighed and nodded, biting his lip. “Yes. Far too many of the Greater Nemetons on the planet were just suddenly gone. Within seconds. No warning, no way or time to shift the currents to a new guardian. By all calculations, we had a decade if we were lucky, five years if we were unlucky, before the planet essentially tore itself apart.”

“So, you time traveled.”

“So I time traveled. Between my information from an inside source who knew and tried to stop the bad guy from getting what he needed to make the weapon, my spark, my belief and desperation, and the remnants of the magical energy of the weapon’s release – because of course he used it while he was here on Earth attacking the Avengers.”

Peter mouthed, “Avengers?”

Stiles waved a hand. “It’s a group of superheroes who beat back the invasion in a year. They’re a mess of conflicting – don’t get me started, I could rant on them for hours. Anyway, I used the remnants of the power of the weapon and my own magic and came here, now. It’s only a year and a half or so before the first invasion. I can’t stop it, all the pieces are in place and there’s no way for me to affect any of them, not really or appreciably.”

Stiles smirked. “Not until that day, at least. I mean, I have plans to get stuff in place to hopefully make the death toll, and injury toll, and maybe even the property damage, much less. But to stave off the ability of that weapon, I can’t do anything until a certain point in time. And until then, I can fix things closer to home while I wait for the other things to get into place. Thus, you healed and your nurse injured and soon to be, if not already, under investigation for various crimes, up to and including murder made to look like natural causes.”

Peter huffed. “You are the clever one, aren’t you?”

Stiles smiled. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

Peter nodded. “All right, so clever one, tell me my future.”

Stiles snorted. “Well, hopefully, it will change drastically now that you aren’t half-feral and kind of psychotic. But there is stuff going on recently and now that you need to know about and that hasn’t changed because I don’t have control over it.”

Stiles bit his lip. “So, I’m probably gonna jump around in time – verbally speaking not, you know, literally. This time. So, if you get confused, dude, just ask. Like seriously, interrupt me. I have pretty bad ADHD at this age and my body is nuts and I have zero filter. I did better in the future with the lack of filter thing but really only on the job, so, yeah. And, if it isn’t obvious, I tend to ramble and babble and drift off on twenty-minute tangents about like dinosaurs or curly fries. So, just feel free to redirect me.”

Peter nodded. “I understand.”

Stiles huffed out a breath. “Okay, so over the last few months, deer have been found dead in the Preserve. Like in the last few months here and now, not from the future a few months back. I mean, the deer were found in 2010.”

Peter nodded. “Okay, dead deer. What was special about them?”

Stiles nodded several times. “Right, they each had a revenge spiral carved into their sides, post mortem.”

Peter’s brows lowered. “It couldn’t have been me. My wolf was in control until you came and I barely remember much from the last years but it wouldn’t have the mental capacity to warn like that. Take revenge? Attack our enemies. Yes, but not the warning. The warning is a human piece of us.”

Stiles wrinkled his nose. “Yeah. Well, assumptions were made later on and you never cleared them up. Likely because you just weren’t sure yourself. But the truth came out after the Ashing. ‘Cause your pack’s former emissary, Alan Deaton, the druid? He was one of the ones who died and I found a magically concealed safe in his house and another in his office.”

“The vet’s?”

Stiles nodded. “Yeah. Anyway, turns out that at some point in time someone or something cursed Deaton with a spell to make him reveal any nefarious plans before he implemented them. Like they probably wanted him to monologue like a Bond villain but he was a tricky bastard. Is a tricky bastard. In person, he’s very silent typically. But he kept journals. More like diaries, really. Diaries of a Evil Druid Vet. Doesn’t have the right ring to it. Diary of a Weally Evil Dude? Diary of a Baddy Druid? Diary of a -“

Peter laid a hand on Stiles’ flailing arm. “Stiles? What did he say in his journals?”

Stiles shot Peter a quick, thankful smile. “Right, he wrote a lot. By the time I found them and read them after the Ashing – which is what we called the day, the moments everyone died, by the way – he had 58 journals. They were all dated so I know right now he has 32.”

Stiles licked his lips. “And he detailed in one of them that he was the one killing the deer and marking them so he could lure Laura back to Beacon Hills. He hoped Derek would come, too. He submitted an article about them under a pseudonym to a local online newsletter thing and made sure she got a copy. And it worked. She’ll be in town around New Year’s.”

“Unfortunately,” Stiles sighed, “the newsletter article also caught the attention of Victoria Argent. She and Chris and their daughter Allison will be moving here in a few days, just after New Year’s Day. And a few weeks later Kate Argent will roll into town unless I can stop it. And Gerard will eventually follow after, possibly within a few months, possibly sooner depending on Kate’s actions. And ours.”

Stiles gnawed on his thumbnail. “See, originally, thanks to your nurse who was being blackmailed by Deaton to do it, you were let out with your wolf fully in charge the night after Laura got back. And I was never sure, and I don’t think future you was either, if your wolf knew it was her when it killed her and took her alpha spark. It helped heal your human mind but only to an extent, nothing like now.”

Peter let out a whine and Stiles wrapped his arms around him. “You were focused entirely on revenge for the deaths of your pack and making a new pack to help you get it. You bit a teenager in the woods and tried to get him to help you. He resisted and you just got worse and worse. You killed several of those involved in the fire but it ended up getting you killed. You did have a backup plan and resurrected yourself with the help of a newly awakened banshee.”

Peter’s lips tightened. “I don’t want to think even with the wolf in control that I would knowingly kill Laura. But she abandoned me. She was my alpha and she left me here for years, unable to heal, under my own name. I was lucky Hunters didn’t come and kill me.”

Stiles nodded. “But your nurse found you which is also bad. You’re lucky you are a werewolf and even with your healing sort of compromised, the drugs she gave you still metabolized too quickly to have an effect. She’s sort of an angel of mercy killer. Among her other illegal activities with her unable to protest patients.”

Peter looked away and shrank in on himself.

Stiles wrapped him up in a tighter hug. “She’s gonna get hers. Her car wrapped itself around the wall of the highway overpass a few days ago. She’s not dead but she’s badly hurt. And that’s why she couldn’t come to work. And the cops found and will eventually identify evidence of her actions during their search of her wrecked car. She’s gonna go to jail. And Deaton may just join her if we’re lucky.”

“Oh?” Peter’s eyebrow arched.

“There was evidence of her being blackmailed in the car though nothing that hinted at the supernatural. And it isn’t exactly untraceable, so maybe. But if not, we’ll deal with him soon enough. I would have dealt with him sooner but you were the first priority here in Beacon Hills. Making sure you were healed and didn’t go on a killing rampage.”

Stiles chuckled darkly. “It’s ironic but I just need more time to deal with all the shit. But to time travel, I had to arrive on a solstice and the summer solstice left too much time open to things I couldn’t control happening. Both here and with the aliens stuff.”

Stiles leaned back against the arm of the sofa. “I was able to concentrate here in Beacon Hills for the next year and a half because all of the players except one are in their circumstances that they need to be in and have happened to keep that timeline of events stable until I meddle. But if I had come even one solstice earlier, that wouldn’t have been the case. And things could have changed without me realizing.”

Stiles tilted his head. “Okay, I misspoke. One of the players isn’t in place yet. But he’s not that important. And if things change and he isn’t in place, well we can go get him and warm him up after I do what I need to do. He was always more of a figurehead and propaganda piece anyway. And a dick. A selfish, self-righteous asshole and a dick. So, if he’s missing, so be it. He can chill for a while longer.”

Peter snorted. “I take it you don’t care for this player?”

Stiles shook his head. “He always thought he was right and if you didn’t agree with him, you were on the side of the bad guys. Reminds me a lot of Scott, actually.”

“Scott?”

Stiles waved the question away. “Not going to be important this time around. Anyway, so, first, the Argents are here and coming here. And Laura.”

Peter frowned. “I don’t want to kill her. But, Stiles, I don’t think I can submit to her as my alpha. Not after what she did.”

Stiles nodded. “I understand. And you won’t have to. I mean, there were mitigating circumstances and all, at least to an extent, but yeah, she isn’t going to be the alpha. You are. But we aren’t killing her.”

Peter blinked several times and his eyebrows lowered and then arched and then lowered again before arching even higher. “What.”

Stiles sighed. “Don’t you start losing your inflections, Peter. That’s Derek’s job once he gets here. It’s a long story but here’s the possibilities.”

For the next two hours, Stiles explained his plans for the immediate future and Peter helped him refine them to work better by predicting Laura’s most likely reactions. When they finally had a workable plan with five different most likely contingencies and three unlikely contingencies and one worst-case scenario contingency in place, Stiles mentioned getting Peter back into society, so to speak.

“And how are we going to explain my miraculous awakening and healing? I can take up an alias and Peter Hale can die.”

Stiles shook his head. “I’ve got it covered, Peter. You just have to contact your lawyer as step one.”

“If he’s still around.”

“He is. Future you told me about him, Ralph Vilkas. He’s with Satomi Ito’s pack and right now he’s alive and well. For a few years yet. And he won’t die in the same way once I fix the series of events that led to his death. My kingdom for a time turner. There aren’t enough hours in the day.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “And how am I to contact Ralph? Smoke signals? Howling?”

Stiles shook his head. “I’ll get you a phone. You just can’t go out in public for a few weeks. Maybe mid to late January.”

Peter agreed and went to the hidden safe in the corner under the floor that only opened with claws. He gave Stiles some money and a list of things he wanted.

Stiles rolled his eyes and huffed. “Look, Peter, I’ll get you some clothes, ‘cause you need them and the phone and definitely some food but I’m not going to any high-end stores. I’d come back with stuff you hate and end up having to return it and go back again when I still got it wrong. You can handle generic casual clothes until you can shop for yourself again.”

Stiles grabbed his keys from the table. “I’m gonna drive a few towns over to a big box store. Less likely to run into anyone I know or who knows me. I’ll be back in a few hours. Until then, there’s some sandwiches in the insulated bag and some juices. And the other bag has some books, mostly fiction but a couple of recent history books you can look over while I’m gone.”

Stiles scented Peter’s cheek and backed away. “Later alligator.”

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