Reading Time: 98 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.
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 5

December 27, 2010

Beacon Hills, California

 

Stiles set out a bowl of chips and a couple of sodas on the living room coffee table. Scott was coming over to show off one of his Christmas gifts, a video game he had been wanting for months. It was a two-player game and Stiles worried he would show up Scott since Stiles actually had years of experience at the game and exploiting its quirks and secrets.

And since Stiles knew Scott could and would storm out if Stiles was too much better than him, and since Stiles was hopeful and fairly sure that this would likely be the last time he and Scott hung out ever again, he was worried how it would go. Especially as Stiles had other things on his agenda he needed to accomplish before he could let Scott go home.

Stiles worried and fretted until Scott knocked, twenty minutes late. Stiles let his best friend in and listened to him brag about the game while Scott took off his winter coat and his boots. He left them by the door and Stiles walked behind Scott as they headed towards the living room and its TV and game system.

Stiles had clapped Scott on the back when he arrived and used the motion to activate a sort of crawling wash of magic to scan Scott for spell work and magic. He was fairly confident in what he would find thanks to Deaton’s diaries but he needed to see how it was structured and laid down before he could enact the next step of his plans.

And frankly, how the magic that Deaton had applied and cast on Scott while he was still human was working together would determine which of Stiles’ contingency master plans he would attempt. And each master plan had multiple branches depending on how the master plan worked out.

As they sat on the sofa after Scott had put the game disc into the console, Stiles popped open his soda and took a drink. Scott paused in his bragging about his prowess in his new game and grabbed some chips and opened his own soda.

As the game loaded, Stiles asked, “How long can you stay, buddy? I need some time to get up to your level so I can help kick ass. Virtual ass.”

Scott grabbed another handful of chips and picked up his controller. “We’ve got a few hours. I need to go over to the clinic around five. And I’m always going to be better than you, Stiles. I’ve had hours more practice at it and you can’t catch up because you don’t have the game.”

Stiles grimaced internally. “Man, dude, Deaton still has you working? I mean, I know you want money but have you had even a single day off this break so far?” Stiles took a gulp of soda. “Does he even go into the clinic at all?”

Scott frowned. “I wasn’t due in to work today but something happened and Dr. Deaton was arrested. And the few animals who are kenneled for various reasons need feeding and looking after.” Scott grabbed more chips. “Like ask your dad if he can, like, release Dr. Deaton on his own recognition or something? I know it’s definitely all a mistake and probably stupid cops just racial profiling him and all.”

Stiles counted to ten in his head. Slowly. “What was he arrested for? Like speeding or something? Did they pull him over and, like, claim he had something illegal in his car? Oh, or was it a warrant but the wrong name matching his license plate? Did someone switch out the plates and actually the guy is driving a black Chevy?”

Stiles rambled on with wilder and wilder conspiracy theories while Scott munched the chips and drank his soda. In reality, Stiles was pissed at Scott’s blaming of the police for Deaton’s arrest and blaming racism when Stiles knew by the man’s own words that Deaton was guilty as fuck. Of even more than the cops or Scott would ever know about.

Finally, Scott interrupted Stiles. “I don’t know. But Dr. Deaton is a good man so they’ll have to let him go soon. Just tell your dad so he doesn’t look like an idiot when the truth comes out.”

Stiles smiled weakly, knowing Scott wouldn’t notice the difference. “Sure thing, Scotty. Now, show me how to play this game.”

Scott turned his attention to the game and the character choice while Stiles mentally laid the overlay of Scott and the magic infesting him over the screen. He could see through it and it was only in his mind’s eye so Scott wouldn’t see anything but it was prominent enough that he could work on disentangling the strands of magic.

Scott and Stiles played, Stiles’ distraction from his magical unknotting helping him to seem like a novice at the game as he made stupid mistakes and missed obvious openings.

By the time the chip bowl and soda cans were empty, Stiles had untangled and dissipated the magic from over a dozen spells or, more accurately, spell effects. And he could see four more remaining.

The only problem was, they were so intertwined, and entangled, and even knotted together, that he would have to take them all out at once. But that was the issue.

One of them was a major problem in that it would cause Scott to be utterly dependent on Deaton’s words if he ever became supernatural. It was obviously already priming him even as a full human. The magic that infected Scott was enough to jumpstart the process even now.

Another was designed to attract the attention of supernatural beings to Scott. The third was a siphon, to drain power from Scott if he was ever supernatural and Stiles knew the other end led to Deaton.

And the final remaining spell was one that was simply a cascade that was designed to force the others to activate if Scott ever truly believed in the supernatural, fully and wholeheartedly, even if he himself wasn’t supernatural in any way. Which was really horrific when you considered that the siphon would kill a normal human within weeks of it being active unless the draw was greatly reduced by the caster.

Stiles couldn’t let these four remain. But he couldn’t disentangle them either. Not one at a time. Not with the way the siphon was tied to Scott’s lifeforce. If Stiles tried, it would almost certainly kill Scott. And that wasn’t in the cards. For now.

Stiles was fairly sure he could remove them in a ritual. But it was a catch-22. Stiles could remove them in ritual but Scott would need to know about the ritual and believe in it for it to work. But knowing and believing in the magic would trigger the cascade which would negate being able to remove them as they would activate.

So, the best of the master plans had to be discarded. Stiles accepted what this meant and moved on to his next step on the new branch. And just decided to be grateful that he had been able to remove the spell that would have triggered a massive, almost certainly deadly, asthma attack if Scott tried to leave the general area of Beacon Hills for more than a week unless he was supernatural.

Scott paused the game. “You are so bad at this, Stiles.” Scott coughed and reached for his soda. Scott wheezed when he got a mouth full of the chips’ dust from the top of his can. He stood up and pulled his inhaler out and took two hits before laying it on the coffee table. “I’m gonna grab another soda. Do you have any Dorito’s?”

Stiles nodded. “Yeah, dude, you know where they are.”

Scott nodded and headed for the kitchen.

The deeper issue, Stiles mused as he lifted the inhaler, was that Scott couldn’t be allowed to be supernatural or even believe in it and thus be adjacent. The siphon was incredibly dangerous on multiple levels. With it in place, Deaton could feed spells through it to Scott.

It’s how Deaton was able to steal the Hale alpha spark when Derek used it to heal Cora. The spark should have gone to Peter at that point but Deaton had hijacked it through various shenanigans and used the siphon to put it in Scott.

And Deaton could do worse through that siphon. And he had tried in the future. But most of his plans fell apart or ran into unforeseen roadblocks due to the Harry Potter effect – sheer dumb luck.

Whether it was the darach or Gerard or Victoria or Meredith or the nogitsune or Theo or Jordan or Jackson or Lydia or Rafe or Peter or Malia or Allison or Noshiko or Stiles, himself, something always happened so that Deaton had to pivot and change his plans. Or at least drastically alter his path to them.

And Stiles couldn’t count on that all happening again. Especially considering how things would already be rippling out from the changes Stiles had made in the past few days.

Scott dropped the chips and soda on the table, and Stiles noticed that Scott had returned with only one can even though Stiles had finished his soda, too. Stiles stood up, the inhaler in his pocket. “I’m gonna grab a soda. And hit the bathroom.”

Scott nodded as he sat down and popped the top on his soda can.

Stiles made his way to the bathroom and took out the inhaler. He wasn’t going to make the mistake that Deaton had made. He wasn’t spelling the inhaler and waiting for it to eventually work over time. He laid his spells on the medication within the inhaler.

Stiles layered three spells into the medication. And they would all activate the moment the medication entered Scott’s body. The first was a replacement for the help that being a werewolf gave his friend.

The next time Scott took a hit from his inhaler – which Stiles would ensure happened before he left – the medicine would completely cure his lungs. He would no longer be asthmatic and it would be written off as several factors, one being him outgrowing it, which did often happen with childhood asthma. And another, a change of location and habits.

The next spell would act as a repellent to anyone connected to the supernatural, whether they were supernatural themselves or not. This would include hunters and those hunter-adjacent, like children not yet in the know. See, Allison Argent.

Deaton’s spell that Stiles couldn’t remove would make supernatural beings notice Scott but Stiles’ spell would infuse him and make him repellent and they would shy away from him on an instinctive level.

And the last spell was a last resort. If a supernatural being, creature, or adjacent bit, clawed, possessed, magicked, or otherwise attempted to make Scott into a supernatural being, creature, or adjacent – like a hunter – he would immediately and violently reject the bite or magic or what have you and die before he could find that true belief in the supernatural which would trigger the cascade effect.

It was a last resort. And one Stiles truly hoped was never necessary. But Stiles couldn’t afford to let Deaton use Scott. And Stiles could remove the spell if Deaton was killed and the danger was thus negated.

And Stiles had considered just killing Deaton, not gonna lie, but he wasn’t sure the druid/more of a darach really hadn’t done some kind of Peter resurrection thing on himself. Granted, Deaton hadn’t come back after the Ashing but that was a much more final ending and Deaton didn’t leave any kind of body and magic was all fubar everywhere so it wasn’t a reliable point to hang a hat on.

And getting Scott away from physical proximity to Deaton would scramble his plans already. And he’d been arrested, so hopefully, the evidence would stick.

Stiles made his way back to the living room after swinging into the kitchen for a soda. As he sat on the sofa next to Scott and picked up the controller again, the inhaler still in his pocket, Scott’s phone rang.

Scott picked up his phone from the table and flipped it open. “It’s my mom. Just wait a minute.” Stiles nodded and sat back.

“Hey, mom. I’m at Stiles’.”

Stiles had a fair idea what was happening. Melissa had had the meeting Peter had overheard her making on her phone yesterday. And she needed to have a conversation with Scott about it. Stiles’ plans were blossoming further.

“Mom, I’ve only been here a couple of hours.”

Stiles sat forward in seeming concern, trying to portray interest and worry and suspecting Scott wouldn’t pick up on any inconsistencies either way. Even in the future as an alpha wolf, Scott had barely used his senses to read people. Unless it benefited him directly or Scott’s own curiosity was overwhelming.

“Fine. I’ll see you in a few minutes.” Scott hung up his phone and turned to Stiles. “My mom says I have to go home. Something she needs to talk to me about. She’s picking me up and by the time we get home and she tells me what is going on, it’ll be time for me to go to the clinic. And I have a full shift of work tomorrow. So, maybe I can come over the day after that, and I can kick ass and you can try to figure out what the buttons do.”

Stiles put his hand to his chest. “I was getting the hang of it, Scotty boy. Next time I’ll show you. We’ll both kick ass and take metaphorical names of, you know, non-player characters.”

“Sure, Stiles.” Scott stood up and as he got to his feet, Stiles flicked out his fingers and made an almost fist. If Scott had seen and had ever watched Star Wars, he would recognize Vader’s force choke motion. Scott began to wheeze and patted his pockets and looked around.

Stiles released his fist as Scott gasped out, “Do you see my inhaler?”

Stiles hopped off the sofa and knelt on the floor, looking under the coffee table and reaching a hand out and dragging it back, having palmed the inhaler as he knelt. He leaned up and handed it to Scott. Scott shook it and put it to his mouth before taking a hit of the medication. He waited and then took another hit.

Stiles smiled as Scott relaxed, his breathing steady. Scott gathered up his things and took the game out of the console. He said goodbye to Stiles and by the time they got to the front door, Melissa was pulling up.

Scott walked to the car and Stiles waved goodbye as they pulled out.

==

Peter walked through the Preserve from the cabin safe house to a clearing with some picnic tables set up in it. It was on Hale property but was often used to host parties and meetings with members of other packs. He had arranged for a meeting there with his lawyer, Ralph Vilkas, a fellow werewolf, as Peter couldn’t be seen in public yet with his unscarred face.

Ten minutes after he arrived and sat at one of the tables, covered in leaves when Peter arrived but in one piece, Ralph arrived. Peter rose to his feet when he heard the heartbeat approaching and when Ralph entered the clearing, the two nodded at one another.

“It’s good to see you awake and alive, Peter. I was shocked to get your call.”

Peter motioned to the table he had cleared off. “It’s a bit of a tale and part of this meeting will be about spinning it for the public. Actually, most of this meeting.”

Ralph took a seat on one side of the table as Peter sat across from him. “Alright. Can you tell me the real version?”

Peter pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow. “I won’t lie to you. But I won’t be telling you all the details at this time. Someday maybe, but it isn’t entirely my tale to tell.”

Ralph nodded. “Understood.”

Peter laid his hands on the table. “It all started with a visit to my hospital room by a spark.” Peter told a truncated version of the last several days of his life, leaving out anything related to how Stiles knew things and the breadth of his power.

At last, Ralph nodded. “So we need to spin a tale for the masses about how you woke up from your catatonic state and left the hospital unseen. And the easiest part being you just staying out of sight from the general public for the most part until a month or so has passed and you can claim plastic surgery in a private clinic.”

Peter inclined his head. “Frankly, I think the idea I’ve sketched out will work. I awoke from my catatonic state and could recall some things and needed to get away because I didn’t know why my nurse hadn’t dosed me as per usual or when she would be back.”

Peter shrugged. “I used the room phone to call your number because I remembered the fire and knew my family was dead and I don’t know who else to trust. And the call records at the hospital and for your phone will show the call when I supposedly made it. And they won’t show the call from the burner phone I used yesterday to actually call you.”

Ralph snorted. “Right, the tech-savvy spark.”

Peter nodded. “I went for the back entrance late at night to meet you because I didn’t know if anyone else was in the know about what was happening with my nurse. And I got lucky because the hospital isn’t the greatest and has cheaped out on security measures over the years and it was a holiday and many of the workers were temps or covering wards they didn’t normally work.”

Ralph pursed his lips. “And I met you in my car at the edge of the parking lot near the tree line away from any cameras. And took you to a safe house and debriefed you and we called the police. Which is what will happen later today.”

Peter smirked. “And thanks to the wards which will fall upon command, the hospital won’t have reported me missing because they won’t have known I am.”

Ralph smirked in return. “And we nail the nurse for what she did to you.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “According to my source, she’s actually already in custody so it works out even better.”

“Alright, Peter. I’ll get to work on the plan. You get to your magic friend and get glamours to show the scars for when you are interviewed by the cops.”

==

Stiles took seconds of the roasted vegetables from the bowl on the table and picked up his fork. He watched as his dad cut a piece off of his salmon and ate it.

“This is really good, Stiles. The glaze is sweet but not too sweet. What is it?”

Stiles swallowed. “It’s a mix of barbecue sauce and grape and blueberry jams. You just spread it over the top before putting the pan in the oven and then add more halfway through cooking. It’s pretty healthy, especially using organic jams. And speaking of healthy things, that isn’t rice you’re eating. It’s actually riced cauliflower with a sauce similar to the fish.”

His dad sighed. “Well, it tastes great. I still would love a steak and potatoes but at least it isn’t tofu.”

Stiles shook his head. “I prefer using something like zucchini or another squash. As seen in the roasted, mixed veggies. And it’s pretty easy, too. Doesn’t take forever to prepare or cook.”

“That’s good for when you’re back at school and lacrosse. Speaking of, I was surprised Scott wasn’t here for dinner. I thought he was coming over to play video games?”

Stiles shrugged. “He was. He did, I mean. But his mom called and picked him up after about an hour and a half or so. And he wouldn’t have been here for dinner anyway.” Stiles leaned forward, his elbows on the table. “He had to go feed the animals boarding at the clinic since he said you arrested Deaton?”

His dad rolled his eyes. “Yes, Alan Deaton is currently in custody and that is all I will say about an active case, Stiles.”

Stiles raised his eyebrows. “Well, Scott is convinced it is all police incompetence or malfeasance.” Stile tilted his head and flailed his hands. “Not that he used either of those actual words. But he did tell me to tell you to release Deaton before you look like more of an idiot when you have to let him go.”

His dad coughed. “What?”

Stiles nodded. “I know, right? Scotty is such a potato sometimes.”

Stiles spent the rest of dinner trying to subtly and unsubtly wheedle information about Deaton’s case out of his dad. Stiles knew the basics of why the vet was likely arrested but not the specifics. And yeah, he could hack the station’s system to find out what was there. Or just, you know, log in under his dad’s credentials.

But it would be out of character for Stiles not to try to get his dad to spill some of what he knew. And until it was time for Stiles to tell his dad the truth about the supernatural and his life, which wasn’t until things were a bit more settled and controlled, Stiles couldn’t afford to make his dad suspicious.

Stiles had just put the last fork into the dishwasher when the doorbell rang. His dad went to answer it and Stiles followed.

“Melissa. Scott. Is everything alright?” His dad questioned their visitors.

Melissa nodded. “Yes. Nothing’s wrong. But I have news. Can we come in? I didn’t think, did we interrupt dinner?”

His dad shook his head. “No. We finished up a few minutes ago. Come on in.”

Stiles made his way to the living room and sat down. Melissa and Scott followed his dad and took seats on the sofa while his dad slid into his recliner.

“I’m sorry I interrupted your time with Scott, Stiles. But I needed him home to tell him some news.” Melissa frowned and her shoulders were tight.

“That’s okay, Mrs. M.”

Scott opened his mouth and Melissa laid her hand on his arm. “I had a meeting with a lawyer and it’s going to bring big changes and I thought we should let you know as soon as we could.”

His dad sat forward. “Is Rafe up to something?”

Melissa shook her head. “No. It’s nothing to do with him. And it isn’t bad news. Just sort of good news but change. Big change.”

Scott opened his mouth and this time ignored his mom’s silent prod to keep quiet and let her talk. “I’m changing schools.”

Melissa sighed. “Yes. That is one of the changes. It started years and years ago, evidently. It was when Scott was still a toddler, Rafe and I hadn’t been married long. We were living in Chicago while he worked out of the field office there. And I had a job working what shifts I could at a big hospital.”

Scott leaned forward and Melissa sighed and laid a hand over his mouth. “It’s my story, Scott. And you only heard it yourself a few hours ago. Now hush.”

Scott sat back with his arms crossed and a deep pout as Melissa continued. “We couldn’t afford an apartment anywhere near where I worked and we couldn’t afford two cars, either. And Rafe needed the one we had for work. So, I took the El and then a bus. And on the way home, I usually had to wait fifteen to twenty minutes for the bus after I got off the train because they didn’t run often late at night.”

Melissa’s mouth twisted. “And they felt it was more important for the people getting off the bus to not have to wait long for a train on a relatively protected and well-lit platform rather than those getting off the train and having to wait for a bus on a street corner in the shadow of the elevated train platform. So, usually, the bus would go by four or five minutes before my train got to the station.”

Melissa shook her head. “Regardless, most nights it was just creepy and quiet. The neighborhood wasn’t great but it wasn’t a total slum either. But Chicago is a big city. And one night, I was waiting for the bus and I heard moaning coming from a nearby sort of alley.”

Melissa waved her hand at Stiles’ dad when he frowned at her. “I was careful. I walked to where I could see down the alley, more or less, but not close enough to be grabbed by anyone in it. And I had my keys in my fist poking through my fingers. But near the mouth of the alley, I saw an older man. He was the one moaning and I thought at first that he might be OD’ing.”

Melissa frowned at Stiles’ dad. “I’m a nurse, Noah. I knew what I was doing. There was no one else around so I went over to give assistance. But he wasn’t overdosing. He had been beaten fairly badly and stabbed. I called 9-1-1 and stabilized his wound while waiting for the ambulance to arrive. He had already lost a good bit of blood and if I hadn’t found him, he’d have been dead by the time my bus had come. He must have been dumped there around the time my train pulled in.”

Melissa sighed. “Anyway, the closest hospital wasn’t the one I worked at and after he was taken and I spoke to the police, giving my statement, all I heard was he had survived. I never got called to testify or anything. Not that I had seen anything worth testimony. But I didn’t really think about it much again. Every now and again, sure, but just in passing.”

Melissa inhaled and exhaled long. “But it was a different story for the man. I learned all of this in the meeting with the lawyer today and I don’t quite understand how it all went down but. Well, the man I saved, his name was Stewart and he was quite rich. And he was a widower and had one child, a son, grown. And no other even distant relatives.”

Scott piped up. “He left us a bunch of money.”

Melissa glared at her son. “Scott! Stewart did recently die of cancer and he left me a large sum in his will.”

Stiles’ dad pursed his lips. “Will the son contest it?”

Melissa shook her head. “No. From what I understand from the lawyer, Stewart’s attack was arranged by his son who had gotten involved with the mob? Gambling debts or something. When Stewart survived, the men who his son had hired killed him to keep from being implicated. And when the cops were closing in on them, they were killed so they couldn’t make a deal. It’s all very Law and Order but I don’t really know or understand all the details.”

Stiles piped up. “Wow, it’s like a real-life murder mystery.”

Melissa snorted. “Yes, Stiles, and it gets more convoluted. It seems that after his son was killed, Stewart hired a firm to track down the woman who had saved his life. By the time they were looking for me, Rafe and I were back here in Beacon Hills and things were starting to really go wrong with our marriage. And then, Rafe left.”

Melissa bit her lip. “But in a crazy twist, the PI firm was somehow scamming Stewart and told him lies about us and my life situation. I don’t even understand any of it but he found out about the fraud a few months ago and hired a new firm and discovered the truth about my life and finances and Scott’s medical issues.”

Melissa sighed. “And Stewart wanted to see me in person and thank me but he was dying. His cancer was stage 4, inoperable, and he didn’t want to put me through that. So, he just changed his will. He left me quite a lot of money and created an educational fund for Scott, including admission to a very exclusive boarding school in Chicago with high placement rates at the best colleges. And a college fund with a comfortable-sized trust for expenses so he won’t have to work in high school or college or shortly after until he finds a job he really wants.”

Scott nodded. “We’re rich. And I’m gonna start at that school in January. I need to be there on the 2nd to take tests to place me or something.”

Melissa nodded. “Yes, placement tests. And I’ll be moving there to be nearby when he has breaks and such. I liked Chicago. The school is actually just a bit outside the city. I’ll buy a house, maybe one with a pool. That would be nice. Though, it would only be usable a few months out of the year, so maybe not.”

Stiles sat forward. “You’re leaving, Scott?”

Scott smiled. “Yeah, man. It’s gonna be great. And mom will have money to buy my bike and I won’t have to work to pay for it.”

“Scott,” Stiles whispered. “What about me?”

Scott shrugged. “Maybe you can come visit this summer or something. And we can Skype and all. This is so great. I’m rich, Stiles.”

Stiles knew Scott was selfish and self-absorbed but this was beyond what he expected when he had adjusted the amounts Stewart had left Melissa in his will.

Most of the story Melissa had heard was true. Stiles had just changed the few thousand dollars the multi-millionaire had originally left to Melissa McCall when he died just before Stiles had arrived back in time, to several million plus a trust fund and educational fund for Scott. The rest of it was just going to charities anyway. And big-name ones at that.

Stiles had not touched the amounts going to the two local charities the man had supported or to the cancer charity. He had adjusted the amounts going to two charities fairly well-known in the future for the fact that over 95% of their donations went to the boards’ pockets and not the charitable actions.

Melissa cleared her throat. “You will of course be welcome to visit Stiles when it can be worked out. But Scott has to pack and to shop, both for what he’ll need for boarding school – the lawyer gave me a list and a link to their website – but also for the move. I’m selling the house here so we need boxes and all. I’ll hire a moving company and I’ll be in Chicago by the end of February, maybe mid-March at the latest.”

Stiles’ dad stood up. “We’ll miss you guys around here, Melissa. But this is a wonderful opportunity for you and for Scott.”

The next ten minutes were spent with saying goodbyes and with Scott bragging about all the stuff he was gonna get now that his mom could afford to buy him things. Stiles knew that once Scott got to his new school, asthma-free and with a wad of cash, he would swiftly forget all about Stiles, even if Stiles tried hard to keep things up on his end. Which he wasn’t planning on doing.

He’d send him occasional texts and emails and try to Skype but he knew Scott would reply less and less and not make time for him when he wasn’t right there in Scott’s face every day.

Chapter 6

Sunday, January 2, 2011

Beacon Hills, California

 

Stiles and Peter walked around the back of the ruins of the Hale house and into a clearing near the Nemeton. It wasn’t the Nemeton’s clearing but it was fairly close to it. Stiles hung back as Peter cleared the trees.

The woman standing in the middle of the clearing spun around and her eyes widened, her mouth dropping open. “Uncle Peter?”

Peter inclined his head. “Laura. Fancy seeing you back in Beacon Hills.”

Laura frowned and looked away. “I had to leave and they said you weren’t likely to recover.” Her eyes turned back to Peter’s unscarred face. “How are you here? Aware? Healed?”

Peter scoffed. “Why would you care? You just cut my bonds and left me behind to relive the fire over and over in my mind while trapped in a body healing cell by cell.”

Laura inhaled sharply.

Stiles walked into the clearing. “I told you her original actions have quite understandable mitigating circumstances, Peter. Most of them, at least.”

Laura’s claws popped out. “Who are you?”

Peter smirked. “This is Stiles. He healed me, body and mind. And he kept me from going on a bloody rage-fueled feral rampage among those who killed our pack.”

Stiles nodded. “That’s me. And frankly, you not popping claws until I walked up wasn’t the brightest decision. I mean, look how close you have let Peter get to you.” Stiles waved his arms.

“He could have crossed those few feet and ripped your throat out before you even got your claws up. And for all you knew before he spoke, Peter was insane and feral and only saw a strange wolf in his territory. After all, you broke his pack bonds and your familial bond to him when you ran. If his wolf was still the one in charge of his body, you’d be dead right now. Believe me, I know.”

Peter nodded. “My wolf was obsessed with revenge and vengeance. He would have seen a trespassing alpha and attacked you for the power to carry out the vengeance he wanted.”

Laura scowled, her eyebrows lowering sharply. “Don’t underestimate me, Uncle Peter.”

Peter rolled his eyes, his whole head involved in the patented Hale eye roll. “I have no plans to kill you tonight, Laura. But I have the grounds to do so. No wolf pack would blame me if I challenged you in the proper manner.”

Stiles shrugged. “And it isn’t like you’re a very strong alpha. I mean, the Hale spark is powerful but it took a big hit with the deaths of most of your family. And you only have a single beta, your brother Derek. And your ties to your pack’s former emissary are so thin as to be invisible. Plus, you left Beacon Hills which is supposed to be the Hale spark’s territory.” Stiles shook his head. “Nah, there’s not much to you right now to underestimate.”

Laura growled. “What do you want?”

Peter tilted his head, not baring his neck. “Why are you here, Laura?”

“I had to come back.”

“But why now? Why not five years ago? Or two? Or six months ago.”

“Oh, let me guess!” Stiles exclaimed with a faux grin. “Someone sent you pictures of dead deer with revenge spirals carved into them.”

Laura glared at him, her eyes red. “How did you know?”

“I know plenty. Including the fact that if you could have seen better pictures, you would have realized the spirals were carved with a knife, not a claw.”

Stiles shook his head. “And I’ve said, Peter, multiple times, that there are extenuating circumstances for her actions six years ago.” He faced Laura directly. “You weren’t thinking of leaving Beacon Hills right away six years ago, were you? It wasn’t until you went to someone, an adult in the know that you trusted, that you needed to run.”

Laura’s partial shift dropped. “No. I – I was going to take Derek and hide in one of the safe houses. But then I -“

Stiles sighed. “You went to your pack’s emissary, Alan Deaton. And he spelled you and drugged you, too. He had a version of aerosolized white wolfsbane in the air while he waited for you. He’d taken an antidote to the poisonous to humans effect.”

Stiles turned to Peter. “She was just on the cusp of the age for it to start or not affect her. I mean, it varies, sure and he wasn’t positive it would work to make her as suggestible. It was a backup plan or an addition to help the spell along more than the first line of work for him.” Stiles flailed his arms.

“I mean, the texts say white wolfsbane starts to lose effect around age 21 for werewolves but the truth is more squishy. Male werewolves can be suggestible under it up to age 25 while for female werewolves it’s normally closer to 22. Unless they’ve had a baby or been pregnant through at least the first trimester of a pregnancy. Then it won’t affect them even if they’re only just into puberty.”

Stiles shrugged. “But Deaton knew that Laura had never been pregnant like that, so he took the chance that she would still be susceptible to the herb and spelled her to leave town.”

Stiles looked back at Laura. “The thing is the herb wears off, especially as it was only breathed in and not ingested, within three hours at most. And the spell he used? It relies heavily on proximity for its strength. Proximity to the caster and the victim’s own desires. By the time you were settled in New York, say by Thanksgiving at the latest? You should have had no problem breaking through the spell and returning to Beacon Hills.” Stiles tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “If you had wanted to.”

Laura gaped at him.

Stiles smirked. “But you didn’t really want to. Even when Deaton began lessening the power of the spell a few months ago. You likely found yourself thinking about Beacon Hills more back in September. And increasingly until you got the first picture of a deer around Thanksgiving, right? And then it got worse and worse with every week and every picture until just around Christmas it was overwhelming.”

Laura nodded quietly.

Stiles inclined his head. “That’s when he dropped the spell entirely. And each picture you got was spelled to get you here. Stronger each time. He finally realized you weren’t fighting the spell at all which is why he dropped it. If he hadn’t, he would have had to kidnap you to get you back here. Or possibly kidnap Derek and make it obvious where he was taken to.”

Laura blinked.

“Yeah, but that would have been less than a sure thing considering. You love your little brother, your beta. But that’s just it. He’s your beta. You’re his alpha. And he’s your only beta.”

Laura’s eyes flashed.

“Put the headlights away. My point is you don’t actually want to be an alpha. If you did, even if you didn’t want to be the alpha of Beacon Hills, you still would have made a larger pack once you were safe and established in New York.”

Laura bit her lip. “I always wanted to be the alpha after Mom. I was so proud to be considered alpha material and the alpha heir growing up. But when the spark came to me, it hurt so much. I wasn’t ready, I know that. And no, I didn’t want it. Not then and not now. But I’m not horrible or suicidal. Derek needs me.”

Stiles sighed. “He needs you as his big sister. He can have someone else as alpha. Someone who wants to build a stable pack and live here on Hale lands.”

Laura looked back and forth between Stiles and Peter. “You want me to cede the alpha spark to Uncle Peter. And what, go back to New York as an omega?”

Peter shook his head. “No. I want you and Derek to come home. I hope Cora will come home, too.”

Laura’s eyes widened. “Cora died, Uncle Peter. She was in the house.”

Peter shook his head. “She didn’t. She was outside playing in the treehouse. She went to the cabin for two weeks but no one came for her. She left a letter. I found it a week ago. She was going to make her way to South America, to the pack your great aunt married into.”

Stiles nodded. “We figured you and Derek could travel there together and talk to her. She isn’t a little kid anymore and might not want to change packs but I think she would like the option. And to know why she was abandoned and cut off.”

Laura inhaled a shaky breath. “I didn’t know, I swear, I didn’t realize. I couldn’t feel her.”

Stiles smiled. “When you left Beacon Hills, you just blocked off the pack bonds because they were so painful, right? You ignored them all and walked them away except for Derek’s so you didn’t feel the pain from so many ripped bonds?”

Laura nodded, tears overflowing her eyes. “I – everything hurt so much. Even Derek’s bond. But I thought everyone had died. Except Uncle Peter. I didn’t realize.”

Peter took a small step forward. “We know, Lala. We know.”

Laura fell into Peter’s arms and sobbed. Stiles turned away to allow them the privacy to grieve for their losses and the mistakes between them.

Five minutes later, Peter cleared his throat and Stiles faced the two once again. Laura sniffled and straightened. “What other duties would I have?”

Peter smiled. “Stiles has plans. Many things are coming and we need to prepare. But you will play an important role. He needs you to use the connections you’ve made while in New York to get him meetings and introductions by summer.”

Laura nodded. “I don’t have many but I can do what I can.” Laura licked her lips. “I’m willing to cede the spark, I really don’t want it but Derek would be even less ready and able than I am, so I didn’t have much of a choice. But – are you sure about being here? Won’t it just put a spotlight on us for the hunters who killed our pack?”

Stiles smirked. “Well, there are some Argents currently in town. But it is Christopher and his wife Victoria and their teen daughter. But she doesn’t know about the supernatural, yet.”

Stiles huffed. “Now, Victoria is a real piece of work and I know for a fact that she has a loose interpretation of their ‘Code’. But even though she is the matriarch, it’s been in name only. Her father-in-law, Gerard, has really been the one running things since his wife died. And Vicky is very susceptible to his influence.”

Laura swallowed hard. “The Argents were the ones who -?”

Stiles shrugged. “Well Gerard gave the order but his daughter Kate and some lackeys were the ones to carry it out. And the Hale Pack wasn’t the only one she took out in the past six years, either.”

“What if she comes back when we start rebuilding?” Laura whispered harshly.

Stiles laughed delightedly. “She can’t. See, ripples happened. Deaton was arrested around Christmas for some really shady shit like blackmail and accessory to murder and rape. And he’d been a very, very bad boy who kept quite meticulous records that he thought were hidden too well for anyone to find.”

Peter smirked. “But Stiles broke the wards on his hiding spot before the police searched it. And they found the records of him selling poisons to lots of people, things like aconite. And we know he was selling to hunters but to the police, it was highly suspicious. Especially in the quantities he sold.”

Stiles nodded. “So, Kate was put on a watchlist. And then, after I healed Peter and he told a mundane version of what happened in the fire -“

“Including,” Peter interrupted, “recognizing the taunting voice and face of the woman who poured lighter fluid on me.”

“Yeah, yeah. He increased Kate’s threat level and the cops put out a BOLO for her. And she was pulled over and arrested in Denver on the 28th. And they found all kinds of illegal weapons in her car. So she was denied bail.”

Laura frowned. “The Argents will buy her way free. One way or another. The hunters could break her out.”

Peter grinned. “They tried. When she was denied bail and the judge was holding her for crimes in Denver before extraditing her here or elsewhere that was fighting for her when her murders were being found out, Gerard found he couldn’t bribe her loose. So he decided to storm the jail she was being held in.”

Stiles chuckled. “But he was getting senile in his old age. She wasn’t in some podunk little Mayberry jail. Or even just a medium-sized township one like here. Denver is a relatively big city. With a not great crime rate. He stormed the facility and it went bad. For him. And for Kate. Both of them, and four of the six men Gerard had with him, were killed in the resulting shootout. The other two were injured and arrested.”

Peter smiled. “And while her actions here increased her threat level to her arrest, Kate’s death won’t be connected in any way to Beacon Hills.”

Stiles shook his finger at Peter. “Rightfully so. I had nothing to do with it. I find their deaths ironic in several ways but if I had been orchestrating things, they would have suffered a lot more before they died. As it is, I’m just glad they are gone. And the manner of their deaths will lead to other hunters in their network and definitely Chris and Vicky to keep their heads down for the foreseeable future.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “If it had just been Kate, the authorities could have and likely would have just waved it off as a psycho and not their fault. But with Gerard’s actions? The cops and various federal agencies are keeping a weather eye on the Argents for a while.”

 

Wednesday, January 4, 2011

Beacon Hills, California

 

Laura had agreed to cede the spark to Peter during the next full moon. She wanted Derek at least to be present, if not Cora. And they didn’t have time to go see her as it was a week until the full moon. And they wanted to do the handover at the Nemeton as it would be more stable and help cleanse the spark of Laura’s grief and fear.

And that meant that Stiles had to get rid of the Nogitsune and heal the pathways to the Nemeton from the node beneath the tree. Thus his presence in the middle of the Preserve at midnight the night before his first day back to school after winter break. Again. Some things just resisted change. At least this time he wasn’t hunting for half of a dead body.

Stiles cracked his neck, opened the root cellar, and descended the steps. Stiles closed the door behind him and cast a spell of stability on the staircase, such as it was.

He walked over to the main roots of the Nemeton and reached inside, pulling out the jar with the fly inside. Stiles sat on the ground and held the jar between his hands.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think about you. And what you put me through. But also what you were put through. I hated you. I never did anything to you before you possessed me. I didn’t even know you existed. And you tormented me and caused so much death wearing my face.”

Stiles sighed deeply. “But you were more than a little insane. Peter went crazy after six years of confinement within his head and I eventually forgave him. You were trapped in this jar, and in Eichen House, sort of, for seventy years, give or take.”

Stiles bit his lip and looked up. “Noshiko summoned you for vengeance but she was always more full of shit than she pretended. Just because she has been around for so long, everyone thought she knew what she was talking about. But when she didn’t have a clue or only had a guess, she pretended like it was a certainty.”

Stiles ran his hand around the lid of the jar without touching it. “She knew how to summon you, how to entice you to this plane, but not how to so-called banish you, make you leave when your deal was unfulfilled. Yes, she was, she is a kitsune. But there are nine kinds of kitsune. And the road to the kitsune realm is different for each type.”

Stiles laid his hand on the lid. “And even we, the pack, didn’t actually kill you. I met you again, a few months ago, or well, in the future by eight years then a few months back. You had finally been released from the unfulfilled deal. You weren’t sure how or why but I am now guessing it was due to Noshiko’s being Ashed. And thus sort of not ever existing.”

Stiles closed his eyes. “You apologized for your torment of me and told me tales of your life, your chaos, the drama you caused. And some of it was bloody and violent but chaos is not safe.”

Stiles opened his eyes and began to twist the lid. “Noshiko didn’t know how to send you back to your home realm. But thanks to my circumstances, I do. I know you want revenge on Noshiko and maybe Satomi Ito. But it isn’t possible. Not here and now. I will send you home, through the shadow tunnels, and you can heal. Perhaps one day we will meet again, once your sanity has returned, but if not, I free you of any debt you feel to me and mine.”

Stiles opened the lid of the jar all the way and spun it around on his fingertip. After several seconds a vortex filled with black and blue and grey and purple shadows appeared, with blue and black sparks along the edge. The fly rose out of the jar and approached Stiles’ face. It landed on his nose for a brief moment and then entered the vortex.

After a few minutes, Stiles swirled the lid the other way in his other hand and the vortex vanished. Stiles placed the jar on the ground and closed his eyes. He laid his hands on the Nemeton’s roots and reached out to an apartment in New York. He didn’t want Noshiko showing up to find out why her trap had been disturbed and finding the Nogitsune gone. She’d lose her little mind. Again.

Stiles left the root cellar and realized by the position of the moon that he had been down there for probably close to two hours, maybe three. He shook his head. Chaos.

Damn it! He had to get up to go to school in less than four hours!

==

Stiles walked alone into the high school building, knowing that soon people wouldn’t expect to see him as a pair when they discovered that Scott had moved and was in boarding school. But for now, he was free to wander in early and set up a few basic alert wards in the building.

Stiles had a few things he wanted to accomplish before he told his dad about the supernatural and aliens and time travel. Or more to the point, some more future problems to head off and a sort of favor to give.

He set up alert wards for any sign of new werewolves or other creatures, whether supernatural or not, as he wasn’t sure how Theo would register if he was again a chimera. And he wasn’t interested in anyone’s secrets who had been supernatural their whole lives, lived in Beacon Hills, and didn’t flaunt it.

But anyone who was newly supernatural – like Scott would have been the first time around on this day – or any new supernatural beings to the school – like Julia Baccari or Aiden or Ethan or Kira – would set off an alarm in his head. And the ward would mark them visibly to his eyes.

Stiles also set up a ward alert aimed at one specific person and a specific event involving her. He knew that Erica had a major seizure in mid-February, the one that put her in the hospital where Derek found her and seduced her more or less to werewolfdom.

But Stiles hoped she had had an earlier one that he didn’t know about. Not necessarily a major one, though he had put alert wards at the hospital to tell him if she turned up there. But one that put her out after it for at least five minutes. Whether that was unconscious or simply still and loopy.

Stiles had mixed feelings about Erica. Her death was tragic but also foreseeable. Her emotional state after being turned was so aggressive. Both Boyd and Isaac also had their moments. And God knows Scott did, too. And don’t get him started on Liam, the little IED.

But Erica never settled down. Aggressive was her default state. And it got her killed by Kali.

Stiles felt bad for that. But she also brained him with a piece of his own car and left him in a dumpster. He’s lucky she didn’t kill him, either directly or indirectly, with that stunt.

But Stiles had healed Scott’s asthma as a sop to not being a werewolf. And he was going to heal Erica’s epilepsy for the same reason. But he didn’t want her to know. He had no desire for her to realize off the bat that she no longer would seize.

But to heal her, he needed her unaware body, unconscious or simply too disconnected to understand what was happening around her. And Stiles had no desire to be an uber creepy creep and do something Edwardy like crawl in her window while she was sleeping. Thus, alerts to tell him when Erica either had a medium to major seizure in the school or when she was admitted to the hospital due to a seizure elsewhere.

And sometime in the next few days, before the full moon or directly after, he needed to arrange a breakout of someone from Eichen House. And leave some alert wards there to watch for the Dread Doctors as well.

Busy, busy, busy.

But Peter had convinced him to try to enjoy this second chance at childhood, well, late teenagehood, while he had it. The first time around the supernatural shenanigans had absorbed his high school years. And he didn’t get to really enjoy much of them.

So, rather than not go out for lacrosse, he was going to try out. And he would go to the dances, probably stag. And parties occasionally. Because he did have other things to deal with too.

 

Sunday, January 8, 2011

Beacon Hills, California

 

Stiles had no desire to try and trick his way into the main entrance of Eichen House. But thanks to all of the shenanigans Stiles got up to with the pack when he was a teenager the first time around, he knew about the tunnels under the facility and how to get from them into the building.

Stiles knew that the Dread Doctors had needed Kira to allow them into the tunnels under Eichen but also knew that they were resourceful fuckers and would find another way if and when they showed up in Beacon Hills.

Yes, they had partially been drawn due to the craziness leaking out from Beacon Hills, like Peter’s resurrection, the battle with the Darach, the Alpha Pack’s nonsense, the Nogitsune’s rampaging, and Kate’s return with Berserkers in tow, among so much more insanity.

But they also had already made Theo a chimera or at least were experimenting on him by this point. And Theo would want to come to Beacon Hills. But Theo had never been as in charge as he had claimed to be.

So, while he was in Eichen, Stiles was going to set traps to take them out as he could in case they did show up. At any point.

The first thing he was doing was setting alarm wards that would both notify him that someone was in the sub-sub-basement of Eichen. But they would send a signal to a ward scheme he would set up that would channel the power remnants of the Time Stone, which was present here on Earth and evidently used quite a lot and thus saturated the ley lines, to create a barrier around those basement levels to keep time absolutely linear and stable there.

That would mean that their powers of phasing and shit wouldn’t work. Shouldn’t work. And when Stiles had confirmation that the Dread Doctors were the ones in those tunnels and not some other random wanderers, he would set off the concussive traps and sonic traps, both of which would severely physically damage their helmets and equipment. And then he would allow an aerosolized version of an anti-serum based on their immortality serum that Mason had figured out in the future to flood the levels.

The gas wouldn’t harm anyone normal. But anyone relying on that serum in any way, whether scientifically or sort of naturally – hello Nazi werewolf – would find the serum neutralized and their ages and health statuses would catch up with them. And they would die.

When he was done with the intricate rune work and charging, including the notice-me-not sort of rune sets to hide the more powerful ones, in the sub-sub-basement levels, Stiles made his way into the main part of the building and utilizing his stealth skills and magic, he found Meredith’s room.

He felt bad for the banshee who had been experimented on and essentially tortured. But he couldn’t allow her to spiral further and channel Peter’s nightmares and plans from his coma dreams into reality through the Dead Pool.

Stiles wasn’t going to kill her. He was going to cure her of the brain damage caused by both Lydia’s grandmother and by Eichen House, remove her memories of the years of torture and of her connection with Peter’s unconscious mind and the insane plans she had found there much like an Alpha’s claws would. And then he was going to break her out and send her to a pack in Oklahoma that Stiles had met in the future.

It only took him an hour to heal her while she slept thanks to all the practice Stiles had gotten healing brain trauma with Peter. He lifted her up, she was really, really unhealthily thin, and carried her out through the sub-basement. Only stopping for a moment at a computer terminal to set up a backdoor for himself to make covering up his actions and getting Brunski arrested an easier matter.

Stiles left Meredith sleeping on a bench near the small bus terminal just outside of Beacon Hills. He left a duffel bag with some basic clothes, toiletries, food, water bottles, and a bus ticket on her lap. And he slipped a note wrapped around a few twenty-dollar bills in her hand.

Stiles wasn’t about to leave a vulnerable woman alone for anyone to bother but he didn’t want her to see him either. So he sat on a bench halfway down the block, a baseball cap pulled low over his forehead, shading his face.

It took about two hours for Meredith to finally wake up from the drugs Eichen gave her every night. Stiles watched her look around in fear and then read the note in her hand. It told her to get the bus with the ticket in her bag and to make her way to the address he had included. That they could help her with her issues but wouldn’t lock her away.

He watched Meredith look through the bag on her lap and grab the ticket before getting up and walking into the station. Stiles waited another fifteen minutes and when she didn’t come out, he left.

Stiles stopped at a nearby fast food place and grabbed a breakfast sandwich and then made his way back to the bus station to watch the handful of passengers board the bus headed towards Oklahoma. Meredith was one of them.

Stiles waited until the bus pulled out and began its journey before heading back to his house, thankful his dad was on a night shift.

Chapter 7

Thursday, January 20, 2011

Beacon Hills, California

 

Noah Jonathan Stilinski walked into his house after a long day at the sheriff’s station. He took a half dozen steps after closing the door and stopped dead, sniffing the air. Was that beef? Or steak? Oh, God.

Noah hurried into the kitchen and saw his son grilling two steaks in a pan. He looked to the oven and could see two baked potatoes through the window in the front. And there was a bowl with sour cream and a plate with crumbled-up real bacon on the counter.

“Who did you kill?”

Stiles spun around and laughed nervously, biting his lip. “Hey, Dad. Thought I’d make a nice dinner for my hardworking padre.”

Noah sighed. “Seriously, am I going to need bail money? Will the FBI or worse be looking for you?”

Stiles huffed. “I’m insulted. Absolutely insulted. I’m an angel. Pure as the driven snow.”

Noah arched an eyebrow. “Maybe after it’s been driven over for a while. Cut the bull, Stiles. What’s the bribe for? This isn’t something as minor as detentions with Harris or that paper you wrote for economics.”

Stiles turned back to the stove. “Go wash up. I want to tell you some stuff after dinner and figured you’d appreciate the red meat. Heart attack waiting to happen. And we’ll be having fish and vegetables for the next week to make up for it.”

Noah rolled his eyes at his son’s back. He knew the kid wouldn’t be spilling until he was good and ready. Not after having an elaborate plan like this prepared. He went upstairs and took a quick shower and changed into civilian clothes.

At least he wasn’t on call tonight. No matter how bad Stiles’ information was, Noah would have all night to deal with it.

Noah relished and slowly ate his medium-rare steak and loaded baked potato. He even indulged Stiles’ need to baby Noah’s diet by quietly eating a large side helping of roasted Brussel sprouts heavy with garlic butter sauce.

The only place that Stiles didn’t bend at all was the lack of any alcohol with the dinner. Stiles had served Noah a glass of cola instead of a beer. Which indicated that he didn’t want Noah to be at all impaired for the upcoming discussion.

Noah couldn’t help but speculate as to what this discussion would be about. He knew it wasn’t simple like school. Scott had left town weeks ago so it couldn’t be anything the two of them got up to. Noah didn’t think Stiles would be this wary of telling him he was dating someone.

Noah tilted his head as he chewed his steak. Unless the someone wasn’t a girl and Stiles was coming out in some way and worried about how Noah would react? He hoped that wasn’t it because he didn’t know what he could have done to make Stiles fear coming out to him.

Noah didn’t think Stiles was gay, though Noah admitted Stiles coming out to him as bi wouldn’t surprise him. Or possibly pan, that was the term, wasn’t it, about not caring about the plumbing someone had?

Or what was the other one? About being attracted only after really knowing someone?

Why was he suddenly thinking about chocolate chip cookies, Noah mused. He sniffed. Nope. And that smell wouldn’t go away quickly if Stiles had baked.

Semi-sweet chocolate chips. Semi-sweet. Demi! That was it. It wouldn’t surprise him if Stiles was demisexual.

But Noah didn’t think that was the upcoming conversation. Unless Stiles had knocked someone up? Noah blinked as he swallowed a bit of potato. That could be a viable theory for this elaborate butter-him-up meal.

Except, if that was the problem, Stiles would definitely have served alcohol with the meal. And probably would have kept on pouring.

Noah internally shook his head. He wasn’t likely to figure this one out without many more clues. And Stiles wasn’t giving him any. His son was just concentrating on his own dinner, quietly. Not a good sign.

Whatever this conversation was going to be, it was not going to be simple or easy, that was increasingly obvious.

After dinner, Stiles cleared the table and did the dishes without a word of complaint. Yet another sign of the apocalypse. Normally, if Stiles cooked dinner and Noah wasn’t on shift after, Noah did the clean-up. Stiles said it was a fair division of labor that way and bitched about child labor laws if Noah tried to get him to do both chores without Noah having the excuse of going out to earn money.

Noah took a seat in the living room and though tempted to do otherwise, he only poured a tumbler of seltzer water. He put his feet up and waited for Stiles to gather himself and start the conversation, whatever it was going to be.

Stiles took a seat on the sofa and turned to face Noah. “First of all, I need you to keep an open mind. I can prove much of what I am going to be saying and I am not lying or exaggerating or telling tall tales. I’m also not hallucinating or imagining things or making it up. Can you promise me to at least not jump to the worst conclusions possible before I get to the proof?”

Noah looked his son in the eye. “I’ll promise to do my best and keep any conclusion jumping internal. How’s that?”

Stiles nodded. “Probably the best I’m going to get, to be fair. Okay. Remember, open mind. Suspend your disbelief.”

“Okay,” Noah affirmed again.

Stiles took a deep breath. “First of all, the supernatural is real. Magic, werewolves and other shapeshifters, fae, demons. It’s real. Most of the stories in fantasy have some basis in reality whether it is true now or was in some form at some time in the past.”

Noah blinked as Stiles paused. He so badly wanted to make a sarcastic remark or jump to conclusions about genetic disorders and Claudia but he kept his mouth shut and his mind focused. Whether Stiles was correct or not, and Noah wasn’t sure which he preferred at this moment, to be honest, Stiles was at least being utterly sincere.

“I know several werewolves and so do you. And frankly, Beacon Hills was aptly named because it calls to the supernatural elements. Sometimes in a good or at least neutral way, sometimes in a bad way.”

Stiles grinned. “And living here, especially if you were born here, can change you. Or at least make you more susceptible to the world of the other. And if both of those things combine – being born here and thus changed or open and having a family member who was drawn here – well, it makes it exponentially likely that you’ll be something.”

Stiles shrugged. “I was born here in Beacon Hills. And Mom,” Stiles paused and bit his lip. “Mom was from a family of magic users. She wasn’t herself but she grew up surrounded by it. And she passed it on to me. I’m magic, Dad, what they call a spark.”

Noah took a deep breath and pushed away his racing and sorrowful thoughts to focus on Stiles. “Okay. A spark. I don’t know what that means.”

Stiles licked his lips. “It’s the most powerful type of human magic user that exists on Earth. My magic is all tied into what I believe I can do. And I have a great imagination. Granted, I also have a logical mind even if it moves faster and makes leaps over some of the logic steps others might need. So, I can’t just do anything. Because I can’t believe that the totally impossible is possible.”

Stiles held out a hand in the air. “But I can believe in something like this.”

A small flame appeared in the air above Stiles’ palm. It hovered there and almost danced in place. Noah reached out and could feel the heat as he approached the flame and couldn’t make himself actually touch it. The ingrained from toddlerhood fear of fire and touching hot things was overwhelming in his hindbrain.

“Or I can do this.” The flame died away and Stiles’ hand began to glow.

“Or this.” The glow faded and Stiles’ whole began to hover a few inches above the sofa’s cushions.

“Or this.” Stiles landed on the cushions with a whoomp and vanished from sight.

“Or this,” came Stiles’ disembodied voice from the other end of the sofa. Stiles faded back into view and his arm raised, palm up. And Noah suddenly lost his connection to the sofa and was floating a foot in the air above it.

Noah flailed around a little but couldn’t get himself down. Or even touch the sofa or floor. “All right, son, I’ve no desire to be Superman and never have. Put me down.” Stiles chuckled and Noah raised an eyebrow at his son. “Gently, if you please.”

Slowly Noah drifted down until he was again seated on the sofa. “So, okay. Magic. Why the impromptu flying lesson?”

Stiles shrugged. “You could have brushed off the other stuff as sleight of hand or mirrors or a trick of the eye. But you yourself floating? Not so much. I mean, if someone was determined to not believe, they could make excuses for basically anything. But that’s not you. You’re smart and adaptable, Dad. So, making you float was the best way to put your skepticism to fully rest. But I didn’t want to start there because I didn’t want to give you a heart attack. Metaphorically or literally.”

Noah nodded. “Fair enough. I appreciate the build-up then.”

Stiles grinned. “No problem, Daddio.”

Noah sighed. “So, magic. Werewolves, vampires, fairies, dragons?”

“Werewolves, yes. Vampires aren’t exactly like pop culture makes them out as and they are actually quite rare. And not contagious. So to speak. Fairies. If you mean like Seelie and Unseelie and the Fae Realm, yes. But again, not quite as pop culture. And then you would use fae. Fairies would be like piskies and red caps and kappas, sort of. And yes, they exist too.”

Stiles sighed. “Okay, look, different types of supernaturals are different socially. Sparks like me are lone practitioners. As are druids and enchanters. Witches tend to work in covens. And sorcerers are lone but can and often do work together in enclaves.”

Stiles ran his hand over his head. “But any magic user can also be in a group. They don’t have to be but they often like to. And the most common group for a magic user – that isn’t a witch or sorcerer – to join is a pack.”

“Most shapeshifter-type supernaturals like werewolves, werecoyotes, werefoxes, werelions, just most types of weres, form called units generally called packs under the alpha wolf, coyote, fox, whatever. There are always outliers and exceptions and packs don’t have to be made up solely of a were group.”

Noah nodded. “Why pack for all types?”

Stiles wiggled a hand back and forth. “Werewolves are the most common type of shifter supernatural by far. And wolves form packs. And it’s just easier on everyone to use the same generic term. It’s safer.”

“Oh, and when I say werewolf and shifter, it is not the usual for a full shift to happen. It can and does but it is increasingly rare in modern times. So, a werewolf usually can’t turn into a full wolf like you’d see on the nature channel. Their shift is more growing lots of hair, like really crazy sideburns and eyebrows that sort of disappear into ridges on the forehead. And fangs like a wolf and claws and glowing eyes of red – alpha – or a blue or a gold/yellow – beta.”

“And while the full moon does ramp them up and make them eager, they don’t lose their minds under normal circumstances. And they aren’t forced to change.”

Stiles snapped his fingers. “Oh, and most shifters have advanced senses, like they can smell your pheromones and chemosignals and they can hear your heartbeat. And they all have some degree of advanced healing. For most normal things for a werewolf for example like a broken bone? Minutes until it heals.”

Noah raised his eyebrows higher with each new fact revealed but he held his questions and let Stiles ramble on.

“Anyway, with supernatural beings and creatures come those humans who hunt them. Now, granted, some need hunting. And killing, to be frank. A normal human jail and human cops can’t contain a werewolf and definitely not an alpha one. But as happens with all things, power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely. And while hunters started out as good and with good intentions, these days many use their duty to hunt as an excuse to torture and kill without repercussions.”

Noah listened as Stiles detailed atrocities that he knew certain hunters had caused and he began to wonder at his son’s detailed knowledge.

“Anyway, back up to my main thread. So, what is called the supernatural exists. Expand your mind further. Life on this planet is more varied than you knew. Is it is stretch to believe that other planets in the vast universe we live in are home to other sentient, sapient humanoid and humanoid-ish life?”

“Aliens, Stiles?” Noah was confused by the left turn the conversation had taken.

Stiles nodded. “I mean, as Carl Sagan said, ‘The universe is a pretty big place. If it’s just us, seems like an awful waste of space.’”

Stiles waved his arms around. “And even here on Earth, we’ve got comic books coming to life. You’ve got a billionaire creating a flying suit of armor and fighting terrorists. You’ve got a mild-mannered scientist who turns into a giant green raging monster when he gets upset or startled. There was that other raging monster, the red one, in Harlem, too.”

“And you’ve got supervillains, that whip guy at the car race and at the Stark Expo and the other armored guy in Malibu who fought Iron Man when Tony Stark was first revealed. And Red Skull during World War II.”

Noah let Stiles ramble on more as he thought over the points his son was reiterating with many, many examples. It was logical, he had to admit.

Stiles paused and took a deep breath. “Anyway, in a year and a half, the entire world is going to know and believe that we aren’t alone in the universe. Well, except for the most extreme of extreme conspiracy nuts. Not like the ones who believe the CIA or the mob killed Kennedy. But like the ones who are absolutely positive that the moon landing was fake and the Earth is flat. Who don’t believe proof even if it’s shoved in their face.”

Noah tilted his head down and looked at Stiles as if he was wearing glasses and looking over the top of them, his eyebrows elevated. “Are you trying to tell me you have some kind of psychic visions, too? And saw these aliens coming to Earth?”

Just the idea made Noah worry about those genetic brain conditions again. Even though he promised to try not to jump to worse conclusions.

Stiles shook his head. “No. I’m not psychic. Though I will tell most people that the information comes from one. It doesn’t but a seer is a good cover.” Stiles closed his eyes, took in a visible deep breath, and exhaled noisily.

Stiles opened his eyes and they met Noah’s, sincerity shining from them. “I know about it because I lived it. I used the remnants of magic from some cosmic stones from before the Big Bang to send my mind and soul into the past about eight years from now. It’s a very long, very complex story.”

“And it led to the deaths of half of all life of any kind in the entire universe. And the destabilization of Earth’s ley lines which is basically world ending. Not like dinosaurs extinction kind of world ending. But literally, world cracking open like an egg world ending. And it’s all because of an alien version of a supervillain with a belief and a plan to act on that belief and an army who followed him.”

Noah spent the next three hours listening to a tale of werewolves and hunters, of demons and Darachs, of mass amnesia and missing persons, of magic and magic tree stumps, of aliens and superheroes and death upon death until Stiles finally let him pour himself a glass of Scotch.

“Well, hell, son. So, what’s the plan?”

 

Saturday, February 5, 2011

Beacon Hills, California

 

Stiles sat on the sectional sofa in the house that Peter was renting for himself, Laura, Derek, and maybe Cora until the construction on the new pack house in the Preserve could be started and finished.

The black sectional was huge, not just long but wide and really soft. And it had a trundle bed tucked under the main section. A king-size trundle bed. Tucked away underneath. And that just made it clear just how large the sectional was. But it was the perfect furniture for pack bonding.

Right now it was just Peter and himself in the house. Derek and Laura were at Cora’s new pack, talking and explaining and just re-bonding as siblings. Peter couldn’t really leave Beacon Hills but had spoken several times to Cora on the phone and on video chat. And at the moment she wasn’t planning on changing packs and wanted to finish the school year where she was. But she was going to come visit during her spring break.

Peter had invited Stiles over to talk about pack matters, though he was welcome anytime as he was essentially the pack’s emissary. But Stiles was busy with schoolwork which he still needed to do even if the studying portion wasn’t as intense since he already knew or rather remembered lots of the material.

And Stiles had gone out for lacrosse as encouraged by his alpha. And his future memories and focus had helped to somewhat overcome his teenage body’s clumsiness and scattered nature. He hadn’t made first line but he was going to be a regular substitute and not just a chronic bench warmer.

Peter entered the room and took a seat near to Stiles, less than two feet away. And considering the size of the sectional sofa, that was practically on top of him.

Stiles didn’t mind. Peter still was touch starved and needed proximity to pack when possible. And with the only pack at the moment being his niece and nephew and Stiles, and with Laura and Derek being out of town for several weeks, Stiles had been visiting whenever he could and had invited Peter over for dinner several times as well.

Peter turned sideways, his one leg bent and tucked under the other whose foot was on the floor. “All right, so Laura has submitted and joined the pack and Derek has as well. Your father is in the know and we’ve spoken and he will be pack adjacent for now and is open to more as he adjusts. And Ralph is thinking about moving to Beacon Hills and joining our pack in a few months.”

Stiles sat sideways facing Peter, his legs crossed in front of him in what his preschool teachers always called criss-cross applesauce and his mom used to call Indian sitting before the term was decried as racist.

“More adults in the pack are not a bad thing. I mean, yeah, Laura and Derek are technically adults, more definitely so in Laura’s case than Derek’s. ‘Cause he’s still kind of stuck in his head as a teenager sometimes. And he really, really needs therapy about it all.”

Stiles tilted his head in thought. “We need to find and contract an in-the-know therapist. One without a separate agenda and who has no connection and never has with Eichen House. Because really, you all need all the therapy.”

Peter arched an eyebrow.

“Yeah, okay. We need all the therapy.”

Peter nodded. “I’m working on it. But you brought up another point that I wanted to address. You’ve told me lots of what happened to you and to Beacon Hills in your original future without going into specifics like identifications of people. But I’m stable. And we really need to begin growing our pack. Tell me about who was in the pack in the future.”

Stiles sighed and looked at the ceiling. “That’s a loaded request on soooo many levels. But, yeah, I can see the need. Just, you have to understand, the pack in the future went through multiple iterations and most of them were as far from a traditional werewolf pack as you can get without it just being a group of humans in the know.”

Peter leaned sideways and rested against the back of the sofa. “I understand. Just start chronologically. Who was the first member other than yourself?”

Stiles chuckled. “Still a loaded question. Okay, when you were feral, you wanted a pack and bit someone who was out in the Preserve. It wasn’t a good idea and you loved to later refer to him as your fail beta. But it was Scott McCall.”

Peter frowned. “The boy who was your best friend until he moved last month?”

Stiles shrugged. “I basically arranged the move because he was all wrapped up in Deaton’s spells and bad things would have come from him staying.”

Stiles drummed his fingers on his leg. “Don’t get me wrong, Scott isn’t evil even as a werewolf. But stubborn, self-righteous, self-absorbed, self-important, and buying into his own hype? Along with a huge serving of daddy issues and dislike of authority? Yeah, definitely. Decidedly. Oh my God, so much the yes!”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Fine. McCall is out anyway since he is gone. Who’s next?”

Stiles bit his lip. “Okay. The next bitten was Lydia Martin. But she wasn’t a werewolf. Your bite instead activated her, at the time, latent banshee. But her banshee really isn’t that hidden and she’s going to activate by the time she turns 18 one way or another.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes at Peter. “Her activation was seriously traumatic. She had no clue what was going on, she needed up wandering away from the hospital in a fugue state and wandering the Preserve naked for a few days, and your arse haunted her to resurrect you after Derek killed your feral ass.”

Peter sighed. “That wasn’t this me.” Stiles just looked at him calmly. “And I won’t bite her to activate her without her consent.”

Stiles gave a sharp nod. “Good. It was really bad for her. Now, Lydia is brilliant. Absolutely genius-level intellect, especially around math and science. But right now she is totally absorbed in her persona of airhead mean girl queen bee of the school. Her grades don’t prove the airhead but her behavior? The mask is solid. Mostly. Unless you trick her into answering something because she wants to show you up.”

Peter frowned thoughtfully, his lips pursed and eyes narrowed. “She’s what, sixteen?”

Stiles nodded. “Yeah.”

“Okay. Who did I bite next?”

Stiles huffed. “That was it for alpha you. Sort of. I mean, you clawed out Kate Argent’s throat and inadvertently turned her instead of killing her just before you yourself were killed the first time. But she was never pack and she’s dead now anyway.”

Peter facepalmed. “I was utterly feral, wasn’t I?”

Stiles shrugged. “It came and went. But illogical and not on the sane side of the scale? Yep.”

Peter lowered his hand. “Fine. So, Derek killed me and took the alpha spark. Who did he bite first?”

Stiles sucked a breath in through his teeth. “Gonna skip that one until later. There’s a lot to unpack around it. And they weren’t really ever actually pack, sort of so I’ll skip ahead to his true pack members. Isaac Lahey, Erica Reyes, and Vernon Boyd.”

“The first one Derek bit was Isaac. He and I didn’t get along. Scott started hanging out with him a lot and I was jealous. Scott was my only good friend at the time. And I always considered us brothers. And he said the same but after he was bitten, Scott suddenly had other options and took advantage of becoming popular. And Isaac and I butted heads due to him trying to monopolize Scott. Among other things.”

Peter nodded. “But he won’t recall any of that.”

Stiles shrugged. “Just being thorough. Isaac isn’t a bad guy. He’s in a really horrific home situation that I’d like to do something about even if he isn’t pack again. His dad beats him and locks him in a freezer in their basement.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Talk to your father.”

Stiles sighed. “I was a cop in the future, Peter. Without proof or a complaint from Isaac, there’s not much they can do. I’m working on it.”

Peter nodded again.

Stiles blew out a breath. “So, Isaac will need therapy, too. Then there’s Erica Reyes. She has epilepsy. Really, really bad. Well, she had epilepsy. I encouraged her body to heal on the sly a week or so ago after she had a seizure in school. I was able to help her to the nurse and hid my magic then.”

“And why not just ask me to bite her?”

Stiles half-smiled. “The problem with Derek’s betas, though Boyd wasn’t as bad as the other two, was the power of the wolf and the change in their life circumstances really went to their heads. Isaac became a bit of a bully for a while. And Erica went from a mousy girl in huge sweats to a femme fatale dressed in skintight leather.”

Stiles shrugged. “Lots of stuff happened that they don’t know about anymore but if you approach them for the bite, they need schooling on behavior first. And I would wait to bite Erica until she realizes she won’t seize anymore and gets used to being a normal girl first.”

“Boyd was steadier and took to being a werewolf well. But he needs reassurance of his place in a pack and the pack bonds. Lots of stuff went wrong in the future and neither Erica nor Boyd really got a chance to grow into themselves. They were both dead within less than a year after they were bitten.”

Peter reached out a hand and laid it on Stiles’ arm. “I’m sorry.”

Stiles sighed and shrugged. “They won’t be the last. The future was violent and fucked up, Peter. But I would approach Boyd first. And then Isaac. Erica – maybe a year or two before you give her the bite at least. If you want to give her the bite at all. And maybe approach her to be a human pack member until she’s eighteen? I dunno, something.”

Peter pursed his lips. “I want to know more specifics about her actions after the turn before I decide. But I will consider Boyd and Isaac. Why Boyd and not Vernon?”

Stiles shrugged. “Never really found out. But everyone calls him by his last name. It’s what he prefers. And I have no room to talk considering Stiles is nowhere on my birth certificate.”

Peter laughed. “Fair enough. Who was next?”

Stiles opened his mouth, “Uh, huh.” Stiles sucked in a breath and let it out. “Okay. So, now we start going more non-traditional. I mean, there was already Lydia and me, sort of. But Derek lost his alpha spark. He gave it up to save Cora’s life and heal her of mistletoe poisoning. And around that same time, Scott rose as a supposed true alpha. Though in reality Deaton had stolen the Hale spark and used a ritual to put it into Scott who was clueless and really bought into the werewolf Jesus hype.”

Stiles shrugged at Peter’s incredulous look. “So, yeah. Anyway, Scott was in love with and kind of on and off again dating a girl who was a transfer student this year. And Isaac dated her when Scott and she broke up. Anyway, it was a whole big Romeo and Juliet kind of thing because this girl was Allison Argent.”

Peter sighed deeply. “Really?”

Stiles nodded. “To be fair, Allison had no idea about the supernatural until after she got here to Beacon Hills. And as far as I know, she doesn’t now. But that could be changing as Kate and Gerard are dead and I just found out that her mother, Victoria, who is a real piece of work, got arrested for purchasing poison from Deaton.”

Peter rolled his eyes and Stiles huffed. “Anyway, Allison joined the pack as like a Hunter liaison since she was the head of the family after her mom killed herself after Derek accidentally bit her when he was still an alpha. So, with Victoria in jail for a while, Allison may now be matriarch with Chris as regent. I dunno.”

Peter licked his lips. “I am not biting an Argent.”

“I wasn’t asking you to. She wouldn’t want it. But Allison isn’t a bad person. She’s sweet and badass. And can go off the rails with the wrong encouragement. But Gerard is dead so. And her dad is very strict about the Code. And the only supernatural to blame in any way for her mom’s problems is Deaton, a druid.”

Peter squeezed Stiles’ arm. “I am willing to potentially work with Christopher and his daughter, make a real treaty, perhaps. But I cannot see her as pack unless something drastic happens.”

Stiles nodded. “Understood. Anyway, she was one of the deaths. She died about a year from now. But I already fixed things so that won’t happen that way again.”

Peter scented Stiles and gave him a hug. “Again, I’m sorry for bringing up bad memories.”

“It’s necessary. So, the next member of the pack was Kira. She moved to Beacon Hills next year. Her mother is – never mind. I don’t know if Kira will still move here but she was a thunder kitsune.”

Stiles wrinkled his nose. “Actually before Kira, we had a pair of twins join the pack. They are currently members of Deucalion’s murderous band of alphas. They can join together in this huge ultra wolf shape. And they helped kill Boyd directly and indirectly didn’t stop Erica’s death. Granted they had a shitty life before Deucalion found them but they weren’t exactly innocents either, not after they joined him.”

Peter sighed. “You weren’t kidding about a non-traditional pack.”

“Nope.” Stiles popped the last letter deliberately obnoxiously. “After that, we had some chimeras – scientific experiments that were part one type of supernatural part another type. Hopefully, the only one that will still exist as such is Theo Raeken since he is already in the clutches of the so-called scientists who changed him into a werewolf coyote hybrid thing. And Theo is bad news. He’s a sociopath. If he gets a serious come to Jesus meeting, he can turn it around somewhat and be a productive pack member but it has to be a major, major, major meeting.”

Peter frowned. “Such as?”

Stiles huffed a laugh. “The first time around? He was literally dragged to hell by his sister’s spirit whose death he was responsible for and whose literal heart had been transplanted into him by the ‘scientists’.”

Peter coughed and his eyebrows reached his hairline. Stiles nodded. “Not even kidding. After he was rescued a few months later to help with some of the shit going down he wasn’t quite so – evil.”

“Any more?”

Stiles chuckled. “Well, there was the kid – Liam – with intermittent explosive disorder who Scott saved from falling off a building by catching Liam’s arm. With his teeth.”

Peter closed his eyes, his face scrunched in pain. “A fail beta turned alpha indeed.”

Stiles nodded. “Yep. And there was Mason who went through some experiments and was kind of transmuted into someone else for a while but came out the other side basically human.”

Peter nodded. “All right. Anyone else? Any adults?”

Stiles shook his head. “Other than you and Derek, all adults were pack adjacent like Chris Argent, my dad, Melissa McCall. Oh. And Jordan Parrish. If he shows up. He was drawn by the Nemeton last time. He’s a hellhound. And a deputy. But he didn’t know that until after he got here. And was almost killed.”

Peter huffed. “So, no adults who were any real help?”

Stiles pursed his lips. “Not really. I mean, you tried. And so did Derek. But no. It was a whole teen wolf thing.”

Peter bared his teeth in a grimacing smile. “And are we now back to the problematic first bite of Derek’s?”

Stiles nodded. “Yeah. Okay. Him and one other with similar problematic issues. So, yeah, your sister? Talia? She was really free with her alpha claw powers. And I can kind of get it. Sort of. Somewhat. The first time anyway. Especially if you consented then. Which you might have but we can’t prove it. But not thereafter.”

Peter blinked. “Talia removed memories from me?”

Stiles nodded, his hand on Peter’s upper arm. “Yeah. Now we found this out very oddly and mystically and just grains of salt on the exact progression of events, okay? So, when you were a teen, around fifteen or so, an older married woman seduced you because her husband was infertile and they needed a kid for some kind of money purposes. And she really hurt you and then she and her husband died in a car accident and the baby was delivered after her death. And he was adopted.”

Peter’s eyes cycled between red and his human blue, his claws dug into his legs. “I have a son? And he’s human?”

Stiles nods. “Yeah. And after he found out he was adopted he had all kinds of mental issues about being abandoned and his real identity. He didn’t know his parents had died before he was born. Or well, his mother and her husband whom everyone except Talia assumed was his father.”

Stiles rubbed Peter’s arm. “And after he was bitten he became a kanima. He was used as a lizard murder puppet by two bad people and you figured out how to save him and make him a werewolf after your resurrection. And this was long before you knew who he was to you.”

Peter nodded sharply. “Fine. I will – can you approach him for me?”

Stiles hesitated before nodding. “Yeah, I can. Yeah. Okay, I can talk to Jackson about his adoption and birth father. Sure. Easy peasy. Just fair warning. He’s a real douche right now.”

Peter smiled tightly. “Understood. He’s a typical teenager.”

“Hah hah. But remember I said Talia was really free with her claws? About a year or so after Jackson was conceived, you had a relationship with a girl a couple of years older than you. She was a werecoyote, Corinne. And she got pregnant.”

Stiles shrugged. “What can I say? Your sperm are really good swimmers, evidently. And Talia wasn’t pleased and for some reason removed the memories from the both of you and had the baby, a shifter, to a human couple who had no clue about it to raise.”

Peter closed his eyes and braced his shoulders. “I have two children. And this story doesn’t turn out as well, does it?”

Stiles winced. “Well, she’s alive. Her name is Malia. But something that Talia did to Corinne combined with who knows what she came across later convinced her that the baby she eventually recalled having had stolen some of her power. She tried to kill Malia since Corinne became an assassin in the years after she left here.”

Stiles leaned forward and embraced Peter. “Corinne fired bullets at Malia while she was in a car with her adoptive mother and sister. The stress caused her to shift for the first time. And it was a full shift. She was around nine and the car crashed and she was never sure if she had killed them or the crash did. She ran off into the Preserve still in her full shift and with no idea how to shift back. She’s still there.”

Peter nodded into Stiles’ shoulder. “You’ll show me where her hunting grounds are.”

Stiles nodded, his arms tightening around Peter. “Yes, alpha.”

Peter held onto Stiles and breathed for a few minutes. Finally, he sat back. “All right. We will discuss more about Erica later. You will help me approach Boyd and Isaac and Jackson. And we will discuss how to approach Lydia. And then we will find more adults to add to this pack.”

Stiles nodded. “Yes, alpha.”

Chapter 8

Saturday, July 9, 2011

Manhattan, New York, NY

 

Stiles sat at the table in his hotel room, his ordered-in dinner of fish and chips in front of him and Laura Hale across from him with her own meal, seafood gumbo.

They had spent hours that afternoon as Alpha’s Second and Emissary representing the Hale Pack in a meeting with a group of Alphas, Seconds, Emissaries, a couple of Left Hands, and representatives from a few covens and other supernaturals in the five boroughs and surrounding area. Laura had reached out to her handful of contacts about the meeting and what she had revealed when asking had led to the meeting of over 60 supernaturals.

“How do you think it went? I feel good about it but you can read the meeting better than I can.”

Laura swallowed a bite of her meal and replied. “I think it went well. They all were at the least open to believing the intel if not fully on board. And they all agreed with the precautions you suggested.”

Stiles nodded as he dipped a piece of cod into his tartar sauce. “Well, the warding runic sequences I figured out link directly to the ley lines and nodes so they don’t need to be powered by any magic user directly. And they can be set by anyone with magic in them, not just direct magic users like druids or witches or sparks.”

Laura swirled a piece of shrimp in her gumbo. “That certainly helped. And you offering them up as a gesture of good faith and goodwill was seen as wonderful. And the points you made about Tony Stark and comic books and movies made things relatable to everyone.”

Stiles swallowed a fry. “Well, it’s true. Tony Stark has built himself up into a superhero, whether he calls himself that or not. And superheroes draw villains and supervillains. It’s the nature of the beast. Just as the rise of a supervillain will bring about the rise of a hero to meet them, the reverse is also true. In fiction and in fact.”

Laura hummed. “You made that point well with history and Captain America who basically came about to fight Red Skull.”

Stiles nodded as he cut into his next piece of fish. “I mean, he did more than fight HYDRA and Red Skull during World War II but it is what he is known best for. That and crashing the plane.”

“But you went further,” Laura continued as she swallowed a spoonful of gumbo. “You pointed to the guy who attacked Stark at the car race and cut the car apart. And didn’t care about civilians who were in the race or watching.”

Stiles shrugged. “Well, if bad guys of whatever caliber are going to go after Tony Stark, the building with his last name emblazoned across it in twenty-foot tall letters is a good target, too. And it’s surrounded by other buildings. And as New Yorkers, in particular, know too well, when buildings are attacked, they can fall down and damage other buildings.”

Laura nodded. “And that was the point that really hit home and made them all agree.”

Stiles smiled sadly. “Yeah. I kind of wish it had all been theoretical but,” he shrugged, “evil just isn’t in comic books and movies. Do you think claiming a vision from a seer was a good move?”

Laura furrowed her brow. “Well, you couldn’t really use the truth and time travel. And seers are documented and real. And you didn’t bring up aliens. You just described an attack from above over Stark Tower and a portal in the sky. That could mean the fae, demons, plenty of things that supernaturals know of. So, they will be prepared when the time comes.”

Stiles nodded. “And hopefully the wards work as I intend and the loss of life is significantly less than the first time around.”

Laura nodded and picked up her bowl to drain the rest of the soup.

==

 

Monday, July 11, 2011

Manhattan, New York, NY

 

Stiles exited the elevator on the main penthouse level of Stark Tower and looked around. The level was vacant because Stiles had done his homework and knew when the workers all took their lunch breaks.

Stark Tower had always been in New York as the East Coast location for Stark Industries. But after Tony Stark decided to move back to New York, at least on a part-time basis before his Malibu mansion was blown up, he had added a dozen floors to the top of the building. And those floors were currently under construction.

The construction was further along than simply exposed girders but it didn’t really have walls or full flooring yet. Or windows.

Stiles had used his magic to get as far as he had in the building and he knew that in just under a year he would need a bit more help to accomplish his plans. Especially as Tony Stark’s AI would be online in the upper floors by then.

Thus, Stiles’ visit today. A mix of reconnaissance and a sort of sabotage. He was making a basic map of the area and hoped to come back to “visit” again in December during Winter Break when the floor would be more finished. And he was going to etch several types of runic wards into the currently exposed beams.

The workmen wouldn’t notice them and would put up the drywall and other materials over them but they would still work.

And as a sop to his conscience about the sabotage, and to soothe a worry about things changing just enough to cause catastrophe, Stiles was also going to risk life and limb by going out onto the auto-armor station thing being put together on one of the balconies.

It was very much simply a rough outline there now and presumably, Tony Stark himself would finish the assembly of it so as to keep people from knowing more about the Iron Man armor. And being able to harm it or recreate it.

But the rune set etched into the beams out on this ridiculously high ledge wouldn’t be detrimental to Iron Man or even noticeable. It wouldn’t even begin to work until Stiles powered it up from afar next year just before the Battle of New York. It would just let Stiles track and potentially catch Tony Stark when he fell from the portal. In case Uncle Bruce and Hulk didn’t do the job this time.

Stiles had taken a couple of trips to New York and the Avengers Compound and Stark Mansion after the Ashing. And he’d met Tony Stark and liked him a lot. And the feeling had been mutual. It had been nice not to have to slow down his thought processes or explain his jumps in reasoning. Even Uncle Bruce had trouble following him sometimes. But not Tony Stark.

So, Stiles wasn’t going to let a butterfly’s wings flapping in a different spot potentially change the man’s odds of survival in the Battle of New York.

 

==

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Manhattan, New York, NY

 

Stiles walked out of the bathroom of his hotel room, drying his hair with a towel, a robe belted around him. He made his way over to his suitcase to get out clean clothes for a day of sightseeing.

Laura was out meeting some of her friends she knew in the city from living here for six years. She wanted to spend time with them that wasn’t based around planning for the future invasion.

It was their last day in New York and Stiles was going to be a tourist. He’d gotten done what he had wanted to accomplish “work” wise on the trip and now wanted to have some fun. All work and no play was a truism for a reason after all.

Stiles turned to lay his clothes on the bed while he got dressed when a glowing circle appeared by the window. It was very reminiscent of the circle he used to send the Nogitsune home to its proper dimension. Not exactly the same, he could see a room with wooden supports on the other side of this portal, but strangely similar. And also similar to the videos of Tony Stark in the park the day before the Ashing.

Stiles shifted his weight and prepared for anything. A few seconds later a bald woman in a saffron yellow robe stepped through the portal and it closed behind her. She made no move to attack or even to interact in any way.

Stiles raised his eyebrows at her and waited. Not exactly patient but this was her show. She started it and he was determined that she start the conversation. It would give him a bit of an upper hand and give him a hint about how belligerent he should be over her intrusion.

Stiles was pretty sure he knew who she was. Or at least, he knew what she was. She was from that order of sorcerers that Tony Stark and Uncle Bruce had mentioned. The one that Dr. Strange, who called himself the Sorcerer Supreme, was a leader of.

Stiles had also done his homework on arriving in the past and knew that currently, Stephen Strange was a well-known New York-based neurologist and brain surgeon.

After a few minutes time where Stiles felt like she was examining him under a microscope, she spoke. “You don’t belong here.”

“In a hotel room? I paid for it. In New York? I’m visiting. In America? I’m the one who was born and raised here, Celtic woman dressed like a Himalayan monk.”

Her lips quirked. “In this time.”

Stiles shrugged. “My body is exactly the age it should be according to my birth certificate and hospital records.”

“But not your mind.”

Stiles lifted a single shoulder up and down. “Maybe I’m an old soul.”

“You do not belong in this time. You will create a divergence that is unacceptable.”

Stiles shrugged. “Not your business.”

She scowled. “I am the Ancient One, the Sorcerer Supreme. Protecting this world is my business.”

Stiles wagged a finger at her. “I’ve heard of you and your so-called order. And I can tell you that at least while under your leadership Supreme Ancient, you and your order of sorcerers had a very narrow lane. And I’m not in that lane, I’m not even on the same highway. So fuck off back to the Himalayas and leave me be.”

“We secretly handle incursions from extra-dimensional beings and others who disturb the natural order of the universe.”

Stiles clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Nope. You’re trying to claim more jurisdiction than you ever cared about in the past or in the future. Just because my presence worries you because that little gem that your order protects likes me, doesn’t it?”

Stiles huffed. “Well, it was with its blessing, or at least the blessing of the remnants of its magic, and the blessing of its brothers and sisters, or their remnants, depending on whether you believe the truth of what was claimed to have occurred. So, you’ve got absolutely no claim to jurisdiction. I’ve got no direct interest in the stone that your order was created to protect. If it has an interest in me, I’m flattered but not interested.”

The Ancient One frowned lightly. “What do you mean, their remnants?”

“In a few years,” Stiles explained, “after you’re dead or at least retired from your Supremeness, one being collects all six of them. And uses them to kill half the universe. And then he retires to a planet and uses them to supposedly destroy each other. That’s what he believed and then revealed to the group that came after him, anyway. He may have been correct or they may have just fooled him and transported themselves elsewhere. That’s my belief, at least, since the universe didn’t suddenly implode. But eh,” Stiles shrugged, “what do I know?”

“The next Sorcerer Supreme failed in his duty to protect the Stone?”

Stiles huffed. “From what I was told, he gave it up to save someone else’s life before he was killed during the event that came when the guy used the Stones together. But that was after he used it to look at like, over 14 million futures in a minute’s time according to the guy whose life he saved by giving up the Stone. And he told the guy he only saw one winning path.”

The Ancient One’s shoulders relaxed from their tensed posture. “He saw you stopping it.”

Stiles laughed a single harsh laugh. “Somehow, I doubt that. I never knew him or even of him before the universe was attacked. I didn’t know but one of the group that fought him and I hadn’t seen or really heard from him in years and years by that point, since I was a kid. I don’t think your successor was even looking remotely in my direction.”

Stiles pursed his lips. “That’s the problem with looking into the future. You have to have an idea of who to follow or check in on or you’ll miss a lot. But regardless, I have nothing to do with you or your people.”

“You used the Stone.”

Stiles shook his head. “The remnants of its magic, at best. And I am from this dimension both now me in body and future me in mind and body. So, step back into your jurisdiction and fuck off, yeah?”

“You say you never met me or my ‘people’ but you are very hostile.”

Stiles smiled bitterly at her. “That’s because I should have met one of you. Or conversely never had cause to have met one of you in the first place. But your lane is even narrower than I mentioned, seemingly. They call you the Ancient One because you’ve been around for centuries or longer, right? It’s not a title like the Sorcerer Supreme. And you’ve been that for centuries, too, right?”

The Ancient One nodded.

Stiles scowled. “Yeah, so you claim jurisdiction over interdimensional beings who come to Earth to cause problems. But in reality, you are only worried about or looking for trouble from other sorcerers or god-like interdimensional beings that could cause like extinction-level events type issues. Because back during World War II, a kitsune in an internment camp here in the US called forth a chaos demon, a nogitsune, from the void to get revenge on those who had wronged her ‘cause she was too much of a goody-two-shoes to get her own vengeance. And when the demon went off the rails, as so-called demons do, she trapped it and imprisoned it in the roots of a Nemeton.”

The Ancient One blinked silently.

Stiles continued. “It remained locked away, going more and more rabid and insane until I and two friends were tricked into a ritual the result of which freed it. Though that wasn’t the intended result. And it possessed me. For months. And killed people wearing my face, killed friends. And we still couldn’t banish or kill it completely when we tricked it out of me.”

Stiles glared at her. “But I never saw hide nor hair nor yellow robe of any of your people. And neither did the kitsune who started it all. Oh, and you don’t need to worry about it now. This all happened months from now in the original timeline and I’ve already freed it from its captivity and sent it back to the void. The tunnel I used looked a lot like the one you used to barge into my hotel room, just a different color, actually.”

The Ancient One inclined her head. “I apologize. We missed it. We may be sorcerers but we are human.”

Stiles shrugged. “But very narrowly focused. Even in a bit under a year when aliens invade openly for the first time, my bet is you hid and simply shielded your clubhouse from their view. No one saw any sign of you then or a few months later in England when Dark Elves and other creatures came through dimensional portals to attack. But those were just one city each, right? Even though each had one of your clubhouses in it?”

“We call them the Sanctum Sanctorums. And I cannot answer for what my future self did or did not do.”

Stiles tilted his head. “But it is likely that I am entirely correct, isn’t it?”

She closed her eyes for a moment. “Yes.” She looked at him. “Our duty is sacred.”

“Uh-huh. But not really. Whatever.” Stiles waved his hands in the air. “Just don’t worry about me. Go back to your lane and worry about your upcoming tribulations that lose you your job. And if I read it right, your life.”

He looked her in the eye. “I have plans to stop the Stones being used together. Alien dude will certainly still come here but he won’t be able to find the trail of two, possibly three, of them. And I’m not counting yours in that. So, when he comes here himself, or sends some of his people who can scan for them, yours will blaze like a beacon, so I suggest you prepare your people and successor for that inevitability.”

The Ancient One sighed. “I wish to tell you we will help but I do not know. We must remain secret.”

Stiles shrugged. “You do you. Just stay out of my way.”

==

 

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Beacon Hills, California

 

Noah walked into the study at the current pack house and took a seat in one of the chairs in the reading nook. After a few minutes spent wrapping up paperwork, Peter walked over to join him.

Noah sighed. “Well, here we are again. I’m sorry I’ve been unable to really sit down and get into things for a few months. Things have been crazy at work.” Noah tilted his head and pursed his lips. “Though not as bad as Stiles’ first time through, I suppose. I don’t have to fill positions from deputies murdered in the station. And Rafe McCall hasn’t come sniffing around. Yet.”

Peter raised his eyebrows. “Do you think the man will still come at some point even though his son and ex-wife no longer live here?”

Noah shrugged. “It depends on if he knows that. He’s always had a weird jealousy of me, personally regarding Melissa, not that there was ever anything there but friendship and shared single parenthood, and professionally. Not sure why. And Stiles hasn’t heard from Scott in months. Since early February, he said.”

Peter nodded. “As he predicted. Once Scott didn’t have Stiles right there and in his face more or less, and he had more choices for friends, Scott basically forgot about Stiles.”

Noah sighed again. “Yeah. I knew the kid was always a bit self-involved but I didn’t realize how much.”

Peter got up and walked to the small refrigerator in the corner. He grabbed a couple of beers and brought them over, handing one to Noah. “Nothing heavy but just to ease the way.”

Noah nodded as he took a sip. “I just want to do more than a quick base touch. If I don’t really get into it soon, Stiles will feel like he has to rather than focus on enjoying his second teenagerhood. He promised if we dealt with the things he had laid out and did the heavy lifting and proper adulting, that he would only step in on the stuff that really needed his personal attention, like the New York stuff. Even though he is mentally in his mid-twenties. So, here’s to proper adulting.”

Peter clicked bottles with Noah. “Heavy lifting and proper adulting.” He took a sip. “Well, one thing that we can cross off having to worry about is the Alpha Pack. Stiles didn’t realize how much of a snowball his meeting in New York would be.”

Peter sipped his beer. “The idea spread and several major alphas from across the country talked to each other and to other supernaturals in the weeks after their meeting with Stiles and Laura. And they decided to form a sort of loose council. It isn’t formal and has no actual authority. And no one really wants it to at this point. But it led to information sharing.”

Peter ran his hand over the lip of the bottle. “And I don’t know if Deucalion was working his way to Beacon Hills like before or not. If he was, it was on a different timeline because according to Stiles’ notes, he was nearby in late spring. But several packs that were being harassed by him in Oregon reached out. And the result is that Deucalion, Ennis, and Kali are dead. And the twins formally renounced their alpha spark and joined a pack in Arizona. And Deucalion’s druid emissary, Deaton’s sister Marin, was jailed like her brother.”

Peter took a sip. “I know Deucalion’s death may upset Stiles as he evidently worked hard on redeeming himself after getting his eyesight back but from what I’ve been told, he didn’t really give them a choice. He was singularly insane and focused on his vision.”

Peter shrugged. “But, Stiles understands ripples, so he’ll likely accept it as Deucalion’s punishment for his crimes. And from what I knew of the man before he was blinded and went insane, he would likely gladly accept what his crimes led to.”

Noah nodded his acceptance. “Well good. Going along with that news, there’s been no sign of the darach. No new teachers or staff at the school. Even Harris is still there to Stiles’ disappointment. If Deucalion and all were killed several states away from here, I can’t see her having a reason to come here. And that’s if whatever magic Stiles did to the tree months ago didn’t kill her when she was cut off from it. Or so I would assume.”

Peter nodded. “From what Stiles explained of her existence, she would have had a tether of sorts to it. But I can reach out to the packs in Oregon, see if there have been any threefold deaths up there.”

Noah took a sip. “I’ll check the databases, see if anything pops anywhere in Oregon, Washington, California, or Arizona.” Peter raised his eyebrows at the last word. Noah shrugged. “In case she followed the twins. They were the only survivors, right?”

Peter nodded. “But they were new to the Alpha Pack and were released because the only one that had killed so far was their alpha. Deucalion killed the rest of their birth pack. And they were given the choice of jointly killing their abusive alpha uncle or dying themselves.”

Noah sighed. “Yeah. So, but she’s insane, right? And she may not care and see them as tainted by Deucalion. So, I’ll see if anything pops up. And I’ll keep an eye out on anyone new to town with any kind of suspicious background. But since Stiles’ changes have pretty much kept Beacon Hills off the map for much supernatural attention, we may be in the clear.”

Peter nodded. “And the only Hunter presence is Christopher and his daughter. And they are keeping their heads down and noses clean since Victoria was arrested in the sweep post-Gerard storming a metropolitan police station.”

“And I think,” Noah paused, his head tilted. “I think that’s all on the immediate horizon here in Beacon Hills from Stiles’ notes. We already began dealing with Eichen House in the spring. Arrested that orderly Brunski who was abusing and murdering patients with the evidence Stiles got from hacking. And I spoke to Chris Argent about the supernatural prison wing of the place. He said he had heard rumors and agreed to look into it. Because there are some legitimate supernatural bad guys locked up there. As well as just inconvenient supernatural creatures.”

“I suppose Christopher would be pedantic enough to handle the administration tasks.”

Noah snorted. “Seriously, Peter, what kind of past do you and he have?”

Peter rolled his shoulders. “A past.”

Noah rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’ll drop it. For now.”

Peter inclined his head. “My thanks. Speaking of Eichen. Stiles mentioned that he set up some magical/non-magical traps under their sub-basements in case they get here without us knowing.”

Noah nodded as he took a long drink and finished his beer. “Yeah, I looked cursorily but can’t locate Theo Raeken. By Stiles’ timeline, he’s been in the sphere of the Dread Doctors for years by now anyway. And is likely already a chimera. Or very soon to be. But he thought he had been turned pretty young from what he said. But he also said the kid was a sociopath bordering on psychopath before he got dragged to hell, so, take anything he said or says with a ladle of salt.”

“Yes, I have no desire to have him in the pack, if he does show up.”

“Speaking of the pack, how is that going?”

Peter drained his beer. “Well, as you know, I approached Isaac Lahey. You arrested his father for the abuse. He is taking the bite next week. And Vernon Boyd, as well.”

Peter placed his empty bottle on the floor next to his chair. “It helped that Stiles was able to cast a spell to discover that Boyd’s little sister is actually still alive. He couldn’t locate her exact location but enough to hire a private detective to do the rest, which I paid for. The detective believes he is close to finding her and contacting her.”

Noah smiled. “That’s great. Hopefully, her situation isn’t too horrific.”

Peter nodded. “I think, based on what the detective is on the trail of, that it isn’t even close to a worst-case scenario.”

Noah leaned forward. “Let me know when you hear from him.”

“I will. And back to the pack, Derek is doing better. I got both him and Laura into therapy with a fairly local in-the-know psychologist. And Cora will be here at the end of the month to start school here for her senior year.”

“That’s great, Peter. And the other bombshells Stiles dropped on you?”

Peter grimaced. “Malia is still in coyote form. I don’t want to alpha roar her back as Scott evidently did in the future. Or would have. It could cause huge resentment if she couldn’t change back again. But she has consented to sleeping in the house, so that’s a step in the right direction. And she eats at the same time as the pack.”

“And Jackson?”

Peter sighed. “It is going better. He’s accepted the fact that I had no idea of his existence. And that his biological parents didn’t throw him away. Knowing that his birth mother had died technically before he was born seems to be helping his feelings about being adopted. His mother confided in me that he actually told her he loved her a few weeks ago. Of course, the Whittemores agreeing to get him into therapy also helped. And he’s thinking about taking the bite in a few years.”

“After the therapy!”

Peter chuckled. “After the therapy has settled his mind, yes.”

“And Lydia Martin?”

Peter frowned. “I’m still not sure how to approach her about her heritage. I don’t plan on biting her and accelerating her blooming. But the fact that that worked in the previous timeline means that she will bloom into her powers sooner or later. Most likely by eighteen, twenty at the latest.”

Noah frowned. “But wouldn’t it be better for her to be warned?”

Peter shrugged. “If she believed it. She’s got some buried trauma around her grandmother and her gifts so it could be an issue. I’m still thinking about it. But since she is still dating Jackson and they are very serious, she will get pulled in at some point. I just want to minimize her trauma.”

Noah nodded. “Kids and teenagers are more resilient than you give them credit for, Peter. Talk to Jackson, get his feedback. He knows her best.”

Peter nodded. “I will. I’m meeting him for dinner this weekend.”

“Good. I’m glad things are working out for you.”

Chapter 9

Friday, May 3, 2012

New York City, New York

 

Stiles sat in a coffee shop not far from Stark Tower. It wasn’t the one directly in the shadow of the massive building that attracted lookie-loos wanting to catch a glimpse of Iron Man arriving or leaving. But it was only a few blocks away.

He had been here since early in the morning when it first opened and was whiling away his time by reading and surfing the web on his laptop. He hadn’t been entirely sure on the timing of the early events of this day, so he gave himself plenty of leeway. And since he got paid refills of his drinks and bought a few food items, the baristas didn’t care how long he stayed.

About an hour and a half after the lunchtime rush had died down, Stiles got a news alert on his phone. “Iron Man Arrests Supervillain in Stuttgart” was the headline. It read:

A dark-haired man using what seemed to be holographic technology and exploding projectile weaponry attacked a party in Stuttgart, Germany around 9PM local time. Shortly after the attack moved into the streets, a man in a Captain America costume fought the terrorist. And then Iron Man arrived and the currently unnamed terrorist was taken into custody by authorities. Stay subscribed for more information as it is released.

Stiles bit back a grin and shut down his laptop. He drained his drink and threw the cup away and left the coffee shop. He made his way to Stark Tower and activated the amulet he was wearing as he walked through the door.

The amulet would block him from all types of electronic monitoring and save his magic for more immediate applications. He wouldn’t show up on cameras visually, his body heat, the sounds he made wouldn’t register with microphones or recording equipment, even the wavelength of his particular magical output wouldn’t be able to be read on any sensors.

Granted, most likely the only reason the final would work on JARVIS was because Tony Stark had yet to really have any interaction with magic. His meetings with Loki were where his acceptance of magic’s existence would begin. And the knowledge of how to scan for it would begin this very day.

Stiles made his way to the penthouse of the Tower, Tony Stark’s New York home, currently vacant of anyone. Pepper Potts was in Washington, DC and the man himself was somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean in SHIELD’s hellicarrier.

It had been a few months since Stiles’ last trip to the Tower. He hadn’t wanted to take the chance of running into Tony Stark once he moved in. As it was, his last venture here had been a close call and the man had been visiting the Tower to check the construction in February. And Stiles had to make an illusion of a large group of construction workers leaving in the elevator before Stark could get in and discover him.

And after that, Stiles realized that the penthouse apartment was finished enough for Tony Stark to occupy whenever he wished. And that even if Stiles had confirmation that the man was in Malibu or Europe or Asia, if he put on the Iron Man suit, he could get to the Tower without Stiles knowing he was even on his way.

So, Stiles contented himself with the work he had already accomplished in the Tower and concentrated on the rest of his plans. He had made three more trips to New York since his first one, one in October over a long weekend, one over most of winter break, and then the trip in February, again over a long weekend off from school.

He had come bearing more runic arrays to be installed on buildings in New York. And he had received word in mid-April that every building, big or small, permanent like a hotel or temporary like a marquee tent in Central Park, every building within five miles of Stark Tower was warded with each of the three sets of runic arrays that Stiles had provided.

Stiles found an out-of-the-way corner in the penthouse to wait. He knew the scientist and his “helpers” would arrive sometime within the next few hours. He just didn’t know exactly when. But it was better to be here before them than to interrupt them.

Stiles laid his hand on the wall and sent his magic seeking itself. He breathed a silent sigh of relief when he felt every runic array intact. His plans should work perfectly. Hopefully.

It was near midnight, and Stiles was thankful for the sandwiches and water bottles he had brought with him when a quinjet arrived and hovered outside near the lower balcony. Stiles watched from concealment as the brainwashed scientist and the other minions unloaded things from the jet.

Stiles struggled with his conflicted worries. He could stop these men right here and now, stop the portal from ever opening at all. But that would only be a stopgap. Yes, people would live through today. But Thanos was still coming. One way or another.

And with only SHIELD and its infestation of HYDRA truly believing in aliens, if you didn’t count the conspiracy kooks who camped out around Area 51, the world would be totally unprepared.

Stiles had done as much as he could to protect the city and its people. The runic arrays he had created had been collecting power from the energy of the city and storing it. And they would receive a huge influx once the portal opened. And they would reinforce the buildings, the structures, even the windows. The subway entrances and tunnels were reinforced and wouldn’t collapse. Even the doorways and alcoves of the buildings were shielded spaces.

And the last array, the most recent one, would take away the Chitauri’s ability to do damage from afar. Mostly.

Any Chitauri weapon or ship that came down within two hundred feet of the ground, or around 20 stories, would be drained of power and made inoperable. The data dump had provided lots of useful information that Stiles had memorized before his jump.

People were almost certainly still going to die but Stiles fervently hoped that the body count would be significantly smaller. He felt somewhat gross as if he was Albus Dumbledore from Harry Potter for even thinking the phrase, but it was for the greater good. Stiles had done what he could to save people but the world needed to be fully aware that humans were not alone in the universe and that aliens weren’t like ALF.

The world needed to prepare for Thanos’ ultimate arrival. And so they needed a harsh wake-up call to kickstart the preparations. And the Chitauri Invasion/Battle of New York was just what was called for.

Stiles watched the scientist construct much of the portal machine and the shield around it as the others in the jet left. Stiles presumed, based on the stories he was told by Uncle Bruce, that they were headed to ambush the hellicarrier and rescue Loki.

Stiles settled in an alcove with a silent alarm set as the new day technically began. He knew the scientist would work through the night and a few hours after the sun rose it would all begin.

After about five hours of sleep, the alarm Stiles had set vibrated through him and he woke up. After checking on the scientist who was still at work, Stiles made a quick trip to the bathroom and then ate another sandwich from his pack and had more water.

By the timetable he had weaseled out of Uncle Bruce and Tony Stark over his visits and their stories, Stiles knew that the attack on the hellicarrier which would free Loki was happening about now. And he would be brought directly to the Tower.

Tony Stark would arrive approximately an hour and a half after Loki, just in time for the portal to be opened. And most of the rest of the Avengers would arrive thirty minutes or so after that. Uncle Bruce showed up twenty minutes after the rest.

The Battle of New York only lasted just under three hours the first time around. Time enough for over eight thousand people to die. Stiles suspected it would be the same this time by the clock but hopefully with much less death. Or possibly the battle may last slightly longer depending on his wards and their effect on the tactics of the Chitauri.

Around the time he finished his second breakfast sandwich, kept at optimal temperature by his magically insulated food bag, the quintet with Loki aboard arrived. Stiles made sure that his spells that kept him unnoticed by people were fully powered as the adopted Asgardian entered the penthouse.

As Loki stalked around, learning the layout of the main rooms, Stiles was thankful that the mage was under a certain amount of mind control as he could tell his spells weren’t fully working on him. Whether it was due to Loki’s own innate magic or his alien nature, Stiles didn’t know. But he could tell by the way he stalked around that he was uncomfortable and felt watched.

Tony Stark arrived right on schedule and Stiles watched from a corner of the room near the balcony as his armor was stripped from him and Loki invited him inside. He listened to their banter and silently snorted over Tony’s dick joke when Loki was unable to use the scepter to enslave him.

As Loki threw Tony out of the windows, Stiles prepared to break cover and catch him with magic if needed. But his fresh armor arrived right on schedule and the portal opened above the Tower.

Stiles watched Iron Man fly alone to battle the incoming army and he watched as a number of speeders got past him and proceeded to fire on the city. And Stiles grinned when the first wave of speeders went closer than two hundred feet to the ground and their technology was suddenly dead. And so were they as the speeders crashed.

He knew that they could still bombard from height but he couldn’t create his ward any higher. There weren’t enough buildings tall enough to anchor the net above twenty stories. It was lucky they were in Manhattan and not a smaller city with fewer skyscrapers. Or one of the boroughs where the net would have been less than fifty feet off the ground.

The Avengers arrived in their quintet and Loki crashed it. And then Stiles watched Loki and Thor battle it out, talk about your dysfunctional family. And Stiles watched from the shadows as Loki lost his grip on the scepter and it fell several floors down.

When Loki rolled off the side of the Tower and Thor took to the skies via hammer, Stiles made his first move. The scientist who had built the machine was unconscious and Stiles made his way to the lower balcony and picked up the scepter.

He knew the kinds of mind tricks that Uncle Bruce told him the thing could perform. And he knew that it had helped create both Ultron and the Scarlet Witch, though the latter was already twisted and evil before she even heard of the scepter.

But when Stiles braced himself for malevolence, he felt none as he picked up the scepter housing the Mind Stone. Instead, he felt almost a sense of joy and longing. And he suddenly understood that the Stones were more connected than anyone realized even without physical proximity or a gauntlet type of device.

The Stones didn’t want to be used the way Thanos wished to use them or the way they had been misused singly in the past. And thanks to the powers of the Time Stone, and perhaps the Soul Stone, the Mind Stone knew who he was and his plans. And it approved. They all approved. And would assist him.

Stiles laid down the exact replica of the scepter on the balcony and touched it with the real deal. The scepter, or rather more specifically the Stone, pushed a bit of its own energy into the replica so it would radiate the proper gamma signature and would still be able to cancel the effects of the shield around the portal machine and shut it down in a few hours.

Stiles placed the real scepter and the Stone it housed in a magically and physically and technologically shielded box. It would deaden its signature to any scanning instruments currently in existence on Earth.

It wouldn’t completely hide it from the scanning of alien tech like Thanos had but neither Tony Stark, Uncle Bruce, SHIELD, nor HYDRA would be able to find it with their current technology.

The only reason they had found the Tesseract at this point was because Tony Stark had realized by analyzing Loki’s psychology where he would be. Their tracking had picked it up because it was in a place with plenty of sensors around.

If Loki had gone to the middle of the Gobi desert or Antarctica or the Amazon jungle, the army would have been through and unstoppable before anyone knew where he was.

Of course, that was the point for the mind fucked god. He was able to fight back enough against the mind control to sabotage the invasion as much as he could. Just like the scientist guy built in a failsafe to shut down the portal machine.

Stiles made his way back inside and to the main floor of the penthouse. Looking out the windows, he could see that the city was in better shape than the last time. There were speeders at height firing below and foot soldiers were fighting physically in the streets rather than with their now non-working guns.

But the first three giant whales had all crashed when they went too low and the power source keeping the airborne had drained in an instant.

And the buildings that Stiles could see from his vantage point were more intact than the pictures and videos he recalled from his first time around. There were broken windows and fires and some fallen masonry. And the STARK letters on the building were once again down to a single A.

But he could see one building that he knew from news reports had completely collapsed by this point in time. And it was fairly whole.

Stiles bit his lip to keep from bursting into uncontrollable laughter when Hulk, Uncle Bruce’s literal alter ego, grabbed Loki and swung him around like a rag doll.

Granted, the guy wasn’t really operating on his own recognizance but ‘cognitive recalibration’ did work to loosen the hold of the scepter. Somewhat. And as sturdy as Loki was, he had needed some severe pounding to recalibrate. And he was being an utter dick to Hulk.

Shortly after Hulk made a Loki-sized hole in the floor, Stiles saw Iron Man inbound with the nuclear missile on his back. He stepped out onto the balcony in a shadowed area and waited. He had a tracking spell on the man thanks to his removing his armor on the platform earlier with the “spinning rims” as Tony called them. And the runes Stiles had etched there a year ago before it was covered over by the machinery.

Stiles could pull Tony backward through the portal if the timing of Black Widow’s closing of it was off from before. Or he could slow his descent magically by altering his weight or lowering the pull of gravity if Uncle Bruce failed to catch him.

But it was unnecessary. The armor fell through the portal on cue and Hulk grabbed the unconscious superhero as he plummeted to earth. Ten minutes later, the Avengers gathered around Loki and bantered with him, their backs to the machine. The scientist was inside laying down.

Stiles eased the Tesseract out of the machine and quickly swapped it with the replica. As they passed by one another, the true Tesseract, or rather the Space Stone inside of it, zapped a string of energy to the replica.

Stiles understood it wasn’t enough to open a portal and the energy would fade within a few days.

He would give a lot to see the looks on Thor’s and Loki’s faces when their little travel gadget didn’t work. Loki would likely be pleased and Thor highly confused.

Stiles made his way to the elevator as the Avengers concentrated on clean up, more or less, chaining up Loki, getting out of dented armor, dismantling the machine. Whatever.

Stiles got out two floors above the ground level as he didn’t want to chance running into anyone wanting to go upstairs. As he walked down the stairs to the ground floor and made his way through the streets of Manhattan to Central Park, Stiles smiled widely. The city looked much better than it had the first time around.

When he got to one of the bridges in Central Park – which was totally deserted – Stiles walked into a shadow and opened a sorcery portal to the middle of Death Valley.

After his visit by the Ancient One back in July and his realization that the portal he had used to send the Nogitsune back to its home dimension was similar in many ways to the one she had used, Stiles had practiced with the concept. He didn’t use them a lot but for this, it was needed.

He was in the middle of nowhere and the next to last step in his plan to save the universe was about to take place. Stiles brought out the cases of the Stones and got them out of them.

When he had them in his hand, or more specifically twirling in the air above his hand, he opened two portals and reached into each one and opened another and then another and another. Each of the portals led to different levels of reality, like the quantum realm or subspace or the mirror dimension. In a way but then again not quite. It had to do with subspace layers, quantum entanglement, and the interconnectedness of the Stones to the pillars of existence.

Stiles opened a new portal with every inch he reached forward with his arm, protected from adverse effects by the magic of the Stones.

Stiles lost track of which dimensions he was passing through and after his arm was up to his armpit through the first portal, Stiles wiggled his finger and dug a hole, and let go of the Mind Stone. It fell into the hole and Stiles covered it back up. He closed the portals and Stiles repeated the steps for the Space Stone. Then he pulled his arm back, closing each portal one by one as he did.

Stiles had no idea which dimensional level the Stones were in. The “holes” he had left them in were in the fabric of reality not in the ground. And the only way to get them would be to follow the exact path Stiles had weaved. But there was no map, even in his own mind.

And even if he was discovered and interrogated in any way to try to trace what he did, the final step of his plan was to have Peter remove the memories with his alpha claws and then perform the similar procedure magically on Peter, with his consent, so he didn’t remember doing it and couldn’t reverse it. And then find the hole in his memories and magically fill it in.

Hopefully, this would be enough to stop the Ashing. But he could always try to intercept the Reality Stone, er, Reality Gas stuff before Thor’s girlfriend was infected if he had to. The Asgardian had told him all about their adventure in the future. But he’d really rather not.

Wasn’t leaving a packet of info in JARVIS’ servers about the Winter Soldier, HYDRA, Operation Paperclip, the Max Headroom guy, Aldrich Killian, Thaddeus Ross, and the Maximoffs enough after all he had already done?

Stiles had made sure that the info about Barnes and his actions with Howard and Maria Stark was only available after all of the info about his torture and brainwashing was read. Stiles trusted Tony Stark to do the right thing when his brain had time to process.

And Stiles had just saved the universe. Iron Man could pick up the rest.

After all, Stiles was only a teenager.

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