Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Stiles carried the flashlight they took from the bunker so Hayden could keep her hands free.

“Hurry,” she hissed, pushing aside the manhole cover above her.

Moonlight filtered down over them.

“Can you climb?” she whispered, for the stalking Theo’s benefit, not Stiles’.

“If you take these.” Stiles held up the flashlight in one hand and his cane in the other.

Hayden took them both and set them in the street above as Stiles began climbing, putting as little weight on his bad leg as possible. Hayden reached down to give him a hand and lifted him fully from the sewer.

“That works too,” Stiles said as she set him in the street. “Where are we?”

Hayden shrugged. “Empty road somewhere in town.” She lifted the manhole cover.

“Hayden!”

She dropped it at the sound of Theo’s voice.

Theo leapt through the hole, ignoring the ladder entirely. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Are you okay?”

“Better now,” Hayden said.

Tracy climbed out from the sewer, already transformed. Her tail lashed as she began to circle them.

“You took something,” Theo said. “I understand why. Just come back, and we can talk about it.”

“I know what you did to Josh.”

“You think you do, but you haven’t let me explain what happened.”

“Let you lie, you mean.”

Stiles tried to watch both opponents but had to turn to keep an eye on Tracy as she moved behind him. He had agreed to let Hayden take the lead. If she wanted to talk, then they would talk. Tracy had made no such promise as far as Stiles knew.

“That’s unfair,” Theo began.

“No! You’ve lied to us from the start, just like you’ve lied to everybody else.”

“I healed you. I’ve taken care of you, of all of you.”

“You would have let us die.”

“The berserkers overwhelmed Josh. You saw his body. You know he would have died slowly, in agony.”

“Even if that’s true, what you did wasn’t about mercy. It was about yourself and your lust for power.”

“We’re a small pack. We don’t have power to spare when one of our own is lost.”

“We’re not in any danger that you didn’t make for us! There are two other packs here. One, pacifists who would never harm us, and the other put their lives on the line to protect ours. We could have been safe. Josh could have lived! Maybe the others could have too. If not for you.”

“I AM YOUR ALPHA!” Theo roared.

Stiles spun reflexively toward the sound just long enough to see a flash of red in his eyes before turning back to Tracy. She had kept her distance, apparently waiting on Theo just as Stiles did Hayden. Stiles tried to split his attention, but Tracy made it difficult.

Hayden straightened her shoulders and stared Theo down. “Not anymore.”

“You think Scott will take you?” Theo sneered. “You think he can?”

“It doesn’t matter if I can join his pack. I’m leaving yours.”

“I won’t let you.”

“I thought you’d say that.”

“Do you think you can fight me, Hayden? Do you think you’re strong enough?”

“Maybe not, but I’m not alone.”

Theo and Tracy leapt for him at once, like they thought Stiles wouldn't expect that. Stiles nearly slammed them both back but wrapped his power around them instead, holding them both in midair. They struggled. Stiles held them still. He tried to search Theo for the other garuda talons, but it took all his power to hold them as they fought.

Hayden swung the flashlight against Tracy’s temple. Tracy stopped struggling, and her head lolled to one side. Hayden rubbed the flashlight under her claws, and it came away shiny with venom. As Stiles set Tracy down, Hayden rubbed the paralyzing venom over Theo’s hand. Stiles dropped Theo more roughly than he had Tracy.

“You’ll regret this,” Theo growled.

“What I regret is joining you in the first place,” Hayden said as she dug through his pockets. She found three talons and added them to those she already carried.

“Are you going to use those on me now?” Theo taunted. “Do you think you can lead them?”

Hayden ignored him and turned to Stiles. “Can you help Tracy like you did me?”

Stiles nodded. He needed to touch her to use the joker talisman. For a moment, he studied Theo, but he was paralyzed. Hayden wouldn’t need Stiles’ help. Stiles moved to sit beside Tracy.

Now that he knew what to expect, Stiles found Tracy’s offset frequency the moment he touched her. Though he couldn't know its effects, it wouldn’t have made her so loyal to Theo; otherwise, it would have done the same to Hayden, Corey, and Josh. Nothing Stiles sensed could explain that. She had simply chosen to follow a monster.

He felt the pain in her temple too, a dull throb. It echoed in Stiles’ head as he studied it, but it too seemed to pulse out of sync, giving him a headache of his own.

It took only a second to examine her, and Stiles began to heal her.

“No!” Tracy screamed.

She slashed her claws across Stiles’ chest. Her tail followed across his cheek as she leapt to her feet.

A dull throb, Stiles realized as he fell, his body no longer able to support itself. Too dull to knock her out.

Had Tracy and Theo planned this somehow? No time to wonder.

Only Stiles’ body was paralyzed. His mind could lift him, turn his body in time to see Tracy reach the others. Hayden kicked Tracy back, but her kanima tail lashed Hayden’s arm even as Tracy flew through the air.

Hayden stumbled back with a growl. Her eyes glowed gold, but her strength couldn’t fight the kanima’s venom. Stiles slowed her fall but couldn’t spare the strength to hold her upright.

After Tracy landed, skidding across the asphalt before clawing her way to a stop, she rushed right back to Theo’s side. As she bent to lift Theo, Stiles took hold of her again.

“The talons!” Theo growled, but Tracy couldn’t move to take them.

Stiles moved forward slowly, wary of toppling over as he carried himself to Theo’s side. This was trickier than holding someone else. Eventually, he would figure out if it was a matter of perspective or leverage. For now, he settled for trying not to fall on his face.

“She can’t move,” Stiles told him. He lifted his left arm and set his hand over Tracy’s skin. “Don’t freak out this time. I’m trying to help.”

“I don’t want your help!” Her eyes darted downward and widened when they found where Stiles’ feet weren’t on the ground.

Hayden said, “It’s okay, Tracy.”

Theo closed his eyes a moment. “Didn’t know you could fly.”

Stiles didn’t correct him. He worked through the mental imagery of healing Tracy as he had Hayden. The wire, the flowers, the card. She gasped as her frequency realigned.

“What was that?” Her question came out breathless.

Stiles felt his hold slipping. That had taken more of his power than he expected. He took the pain from her head to bolster himself, little as it was. He didn’t feel bolstered.

Hayden answered when Stiles didn’t, “Something the Dread Doctors did to us. Stiles can fix it.”

“I didn’t ask him to fix me!” She struggled. “Let me go! I don’t want your help!”

Pain pierced Stiles’ ankle. Something tugged him down. Shock broke Stiles’ hold on himself and Tracy alike. He slammed into the street.

Theo pulled his claws from Stiles’ ankle and pushed himself slowly up, struggling against the venom in his system. Tracy took Theo’s arm and pulled him to his feet.

“Hayden,” Theo said, leaning heavily against Tracy. “Do you see yet that you can’t fight me? For all of Stiles’ power, he can’t keep me down. He can’t protect you. I’m still your alpha. I always will be.”

“No!” Hayden struggled but could not stand.

Stiles pushed Theo over and stunned Tracy when she turned to fight him. Theo stumbled. One knee hit the ground, but he launched off it toward Stiles. Asphalt tore at Stiles’ back before he realized Theo had knocked him down. With a scream of mixed pain and anger, Stiles shoved Theo off him and slammed him to the ground.

The stun wore off Tracy while Stiles pulled himself off the street. She lashed him with her tail, but he was already paralyzed. Stiles gripped her with a thought and lost his hold on Theo.

Theo’s claws raked Stiles’ scalp before Stiles could stop him. Tracy grabbed Stiles’ throat.

He could not hold both them and himself.

Stiles toppled to the ground, but he held Tracy and Theo away from himself above the street. He couldn’t do more than hold them still. They had hurt him. He was sore and bleeding. Wasn’t pain supposed to make him stronger?

“This is the most you can do for now,” Theo said. “Otherwise, you’d already have beaten us. Hayden can’t help you, and your stamina will run out before ours.”

Stiles grunted.

“There’s no one to help you, Stiles, so let’s work this out. I have Cole’s research. I can help you use your power. You should be able to do more than this.”

Stiles could do more than this.

He hurt. His bad knee ached like it hadn’t for months; he had landed on it when he dropped himself. Pain was fuel. Wasn’t it? It had to be. When he was hurt, he was strong. Cole put him through a psychic pain test when she gave him this power, and he’d been stronger then than any time after. When they fought the Doctors and the Beast, when Stiles’ body had been more broken than any other time in his life, Stiles had been strong enough to throw the monstrous werewolf like a ragdoll, until he’d passed out. Pain had to be fuel.

He just needed more fuel. More pain. He tried to move his leg. Even twitching it weakly hurt like hell.

Stiles wasn’t any stronger.

If it wasn’t pain…

There had been one other time when Stiles’ strength got away from him. When Derek roared.

And one other, Stiles realized, one he hadn’t noticed. When he stopped Peter and Theo fighting, Stiles shook the building around them. At the time, he hadn’t known it was possible, but he’d been reading Peter through the bond, Peter who teetered on the brink of losing control of himself as he wrangled his own newly increased strength.

It wasn’t pain. It was when Stiles lost control and couldn’t hold himself back anymore. Scott was right. That strength was part of something Stiles didn’t want to be.

His cane rose.

Stiles hadn't done that.

The cane swung at Tracy’s head. Once, twice. By the third blow, Corey had grown visible holding the cane, panting with effort and terror. Tracy hung limp in Stiles’ psychic grasp.

“I got your text,” Corey said in a shaky voice.

“You could have texted back,” Hayden choked out from where she lay paralyzed.

“Check Tracy,” Stiles ordered.

Corey checked her eyes, pulse, and breathing. “She’s out cold, but she’ll be fine. I’m not strong enough to really hurt her. Or, I guess I am, but that’s not the kind of strength I’d use on someone’s head, and if she could move, she’d kick my ass, but… I’m rambling. Sorry.”

Stiles let Tracy down.

“Help me to Theo.” He doubted he could spare the power to carry himself there.

Corey hesitated. “Are you going to hurt him?”

“He deserves to be hurt,” Hayden growled.

Corey waited for Stiles’ answer.

“I’m going to try to help him. And you, Corey, but probably later.”

“Why?” Theo asked. “Why are you still trying to help us?”

Stiles grunted as Corey pulled him upright and dragged him over to Theo.

“Scott told me killing hurts the killer too. I think he was right. You might be the only ones we’re fighting tonight who we can save instead.”

“Instead of what?”

“Kill.” As Corey lowered him, Stiles said, “I need my left hand touching him.”

“You’re getting weak if you can’t move it on your own,” Theo sneered.

“I’m saving my strength for you, asshole.”

Stiles’ breath caught as his hand touched Theo. The wrongness in him ran deeper and fouler than the others. His blood practically boiled with it. When Stiles tried to prick him, the poison gathered into clots rather than flow free.

“I’m not like the others, am I?” Theo asked.

“Do you know what they did to you?” Stiles asked.

“They made me powerful. They made me a killer.” He paused. “I never noticed any hurt from it.”

Stiles pressed his forehead against Theo’s, too distracted to know if he’d used his body or mind to move. “You can’t feel that?”

Theo gasped. “What are you…?”

Stiles didn’t have an answer for that. He had never felt someone’s mind without a bond before. “Part of you is gone, and they filled the space it left with poison.”

“My heart,” Theo whispered. “They replaced my heart.”

Stiles pictured the vine-wrapped barbed wire winding around Theo’s body, piercing his skin at a hundred points. The poison seeped out and blackened the flowers. The tattoo on Stiles’ arm darkened.

“They told me to let my sister freeze so they could put her heart in my chest.”

There had to be more that Stiles could do. He had broken through the wall and reached Hayden. Why couldn’t he reach Theo?

The wall stood in pieces, but its rubble surrounded Stiles still. He needed to clear it away. He needed time to clear it away.

Beyond the remains of Stiles’ mental block, Theo’s stood strong, a wall of ice. Theo’s mind hid behind it. Stiles couldn’t spare the time to wonder how he saw it. It must be the talisman. He could figure the specifics out later.

If Stiles let Theo go now, he would never return to Stiles to finish this.

If Stiles couldn’t clear the rubble to reach Theo alone, then Theo would have to meet him halfway. Stiles tried to reach the wall separating Theo from him, but he couldn’t. It wasn’t his to shatter.

“Theo, you have to help me. This is more than I can do.”

“I killed my sister for this, Stiles.”

“Don’t just let it happen anymore. Fix it. Fight them. Fight what they did to you. It did hurt you. I think it broke you, but you don’t have to be what they made you. You don’t have to stay what you made of yourself either. You can move on. Starting now, here, with healing yourself.”

“That’s not how this works. I killed her, and I stole her heart and made it into a part of me.”

“Damnit, Theo. We can’t get your old heart back, but we can save this one. You think she wants this poison pumping through her heart?”

“I think she wants it back.”

“We’ll have to settle for what we can do.”

“Even if she can’t forgive me?”

“She can’t stop you either.”

Theo charged through the mental barricade and reached for the barbed wire with his mind to pull it tighter until the poison gushed from him. Stiles’ tattoo blackened entirely, showing only in silhouette on his wrist. The wilted flowers blossomed anew, and their blackened petals spread to reveal galaxies of stars shining within. They burst and collapsed into a glittering poultice not entirely unlike the grout that held the bricks of Stiles’ psychic wall, but soft and healing where the grout had been rough and binding. Stiles and Theo wrapped the wounds in a bandage of black ribbon covered in flowing nebulas.

Theo took a long, deep breath. His brows furrowed in an unspoken question, like his breath before must have carried something other than air to his lungs. With his frequency finally realigned after living in sync with a great evil instead of his own world, everything must feel completely new. Or maybe some part of him remembered the world of his childhood and only now realized it was one he could reach again.

Stiles fell back against Corey, who supported him in the street. The darkness began fading from Stiles’ tattoo, but the ink it revealed had transformed.

The barbed wire was gone, replaced by streams of star-stuff flowing behind the thorn-covered vines. The roses had darkened but remained blue, dotted by the tiny lights of further, distant stars. The Joker was gone, or changed. The figure on the card knelt with one foot in a pool of water beneath an eight-pointed star, pouring water from between their hands back into the pool.

“I feel it,” Theo whispered.

He lay on the ground still, though Stiles lacked the strength to hold him there. Theo’s right hand rested on his chest over his heart, rising and falling as he breathed in deeply.

Theo turned his head toward Stiles to ask, “Was I worth it? Did I deserve this?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I know you changed something in yourself Stiles. I don’t know how, but I felt it. How do you know—”

“We don’t earn what happens to us by being good or bad. So I don’t care if you were worth it, and I don’t care if you, or I, deserve forgiveness. That’s not something you earn; it’s something the person you wronged chooses to give away. Redemption is what we have to work at, so we might as well take the chance while it’s here.”

“And how long do we have to work before we’re redeemed?”

“I don’t know. A few years? As long as we spent hurting people? Forever?”

Theo chuckled. “And what if that’s not the way I go? What if it was all for nothing?”

“Doesn’t matter what you do. It wasn’t for nothing. Not for me.”

“I don’t think what you’re saying is something I can do—”

“You can—”

“—alone. Something I can do alone. Will you help me?”

“As much as I can.”

“That’s all I can ask. Thanks, I guess.” Theo closed his eyes and let out another long breath.

With any luck, that would be enough. Stiles would be enough.

For years, Stiles believed Joker was the part of him that kept him strong enough to fight. Now he knew assigning parts of himself their own identity disassociated him from his actions and trapped him behind the persona. Joker wasn’t violent, cruel, reckless, manipulative, or power-hungry. Stiles was. Without the mask and the mental wall he’d built it into, what else would Stiles become?

He thought of Derek, deliberately rebuilding himself into a man he could be proud of piece by piece no matter how long it took.

Stiles had said he couldn’t do that, but why not? Because he lacked patience? Because he never believed he deserved better? Because it would have meant giving up Joker as a shield?

Because he couldn’t imagine a good version of himself.

But he could now.

Instead of someone who killed his enemies, Stiles could become someone who saved those who needed help.

.x.

Stiles gathered his party and Theo’s together and, after getting the all-clear from Scott, brought them all to his house. He wasn’t sure where else to go, or whether the chimeras needed to stay with him. After resting a while, he used his star talisman to help Corey reset his frequency, but the chimeras still lingered. They were a mess, so Stiles lent them clothes and towels so they could clean up. They were tired and thirsty, so Stiles set them up in the living room and brought them drinks.

                They sat around, staring at each other or at nothing, unsure what to do now that Theo had first betrayed and then rejoined everyone.

                Rivera and Tuanwend asked if Stiles still needed guards for himself and Trick. When he didn’t, they left. Tuanwend hugged him on the way out and whispered, “Doesn’t matter if the Tower’s gone. We’ve all got your back.”

                Stiles hugged back with one arm, still leaning heavily on his cane. His knee had not yet forgiven him for the fight.

Over Tuanwend’s shoulder, Stiles saw Rivera nod.

                Tuanwend pulled back with a grin and a wink for Stiles. “See that you’ve got ours too.”

                “I will, but I’m stupid, so you’ve gotta tell me outright, okay?”

                “Roger roger.”

                Rivera rolled her eyes. “Stiles, you’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met.”

                “Maybe it’s being smart that makes me stupid.”

                Tuandwend laughed while Rivera shook her head and pulled him away. “Come on,” she urged. “We’ve still got work to do.”

                Stiles raised an eyebrow because he hadn’t given any orders, so she pointed behind him to Dumbo, still technically his acting lieutenant.

                When they had gone, Dumbo said, “They’re going to see if Trick’s apartment and shop are safe. We think Dorian was here alone, but, really, what the hell do we know?” After a pause, he added, “Don’t look at me like that. I don’t have to tell you I suspect rainbow alien rabbit people. I just like to.”

                Stiles blinked, not sure how to respond. Trick was in Noah’s office, in the armchair they’d set up by the window for Derek.

                “I’m going to talk to the chimeras,” Stiles said. “Stay with Trick for the moment.”

                Dumbo saluted with a flourish that turned the motion into a peace sign.

                Theo eyed Stiles warily as Dumbo left the room. He leaned back on the couch with one foot on the coffee table as if he could look casual despite the obvious tension in his shoulders and brow. His eyes darted periodically to the exits, always returning to Stiles. Tracy leaned against Theo with her legs curled tight against her torso. She held a mug of tea in both hands without drinking. Corey stood against the wall farthest from Theo without leaving the living room. He kept fading in and out of sight even though Theo never looked at him. Hayden sat in one of two armchairs with her legs crossed. She’d accepted only a glass of water and sipped it occasionally as she glared openly at Theo.

                Stiles dropped heavily into the other armchair at her side, and Hayden spared him a smile.

                Stiles took a deep breath. He wasn’t sure what, exactly, he needed to do here. Something, probably. The chimeras weren’t his responsibility; he knew that. He also knew that if he let Theo go now, what little progress Theo had made would be lost. It didn’t have to be Stiles’ responsibility for him to do something about it.

                “So,” Stiles said, “I don’t think the issues the Dread Doctors left you with are what made you an asshole.”

                Theo chuckled. “We’ve talked about that already. I might have been born an asshole.”

                “I recently discovered assholery is a curable condition. If you want your pack to survive being yours, you should look into it too.”

                “We’re not his anymore,” Hayden said.

                Tracy hissed, “I am.”

                Corey blinked out of sight.

                Theo said, “What trite sentimentality do you recommend to better myself?”

“You have to work at it.”

Theo rolled his eyes.

“Dude, you’re not going to magically discover a secret moral heart inside you. You’re fucking evil. So just use your brain instead of your heart, and do better things.”

“I cannot believe you’re telling me the secret to morality is homework.”

“I mean, you might still personally be immoral. But maybe you won’t murder your friends for their power if you practice protecting them instead.”

Hayden said, “I’m not going to help him.”

Theo frowned. “If no one will help me, how do I learn?”

Stiles snapped his fingers loudly to draw Theo’s attention back to himself. “First of all, the people you hurt are not the ones responsible for teaching you. That’s on you. Entirely. No one else is responsible for you, not even the Doctors who made you what you are. Second of all, I’m sitting right the fuck here offering to help. Obviously, I’m no beacon of goodness, but I’m no worse than you.”

Theo clenched his jaw. He eyed Hayden, and the spot where Corey was invisible. Then he turned his eyes on Tracy. “Fine,” he said. “What do you want me to do?”

“First thing is accept that Hayden and Corey are going to make their own decisions about how much they’ll interact with you, if at all. Tracy too, but I get the feeling she wants to stay with you.”

“So I’m just supposed to accept that I don’t have a pack anymore?” Theo growled.

“Yes.”

In a calmer voice than she had used before, Tracy said, “I won’t leave you, Theo.”

Theo nodded stiffly.

Hayden turned back to Corey. “It’s okay,” she told him. “I’m leaving. You can too.”

Corey showed himself slowly, fading into sight against the wall. His hands shook, but the nod he gave Hayden before turning to Theo was resolute. When he spoke, his voice was firm. “I’m leaving your pack, Theo.”

“Fine.” Theo spoke through clenched teeth.

“Change is hard,” Stiles said with such exaggerated compassion Theo couldn’t help but recognize its insincerity. Stiles shook his head. “See? I’m also still inclined to just be an ass all the time.” He laughed at himself, but no one else joined him.

“Is it okay if we go home now?” Corey asked.

“I’m not the boss of you any more than Theo is,” Stiles said. “If you feel safe enough to go, then yeah. The others should be on their way here if you want to wait for an escort.”

Most of the others. Peter and Malia wouldn’t return for at least a day or two. Stiles had no way of knowing if their part of the fight had even begun. He tried to sense Peter but came up blank.

“Oh.” Corey looked down at his shoes. “Hayden, do you want to stay?”

She stood. “I was going to talk to Lydia, but I can do that later.”

“I can go alone,” Corey said. “I was more making sure you didn’t need me here.”

“Let’s go together anyway.” Hayden offered Corey her hand, and the two left with a nod and a wave for Stiles.

“What now?” Theo asked, voice still stiff with bitterness.

“I don’t know,” Stiles answered. “I’ll need more help myself if I want to help you; I’ll figure it out.”

Theo turned away, still looking irritated. When his gaze reached the surgeon’s cane, he asked, “Where did you get that?”

“I blasted a hole through the wall into the room holding it during my daring escape. Do you recognize it?”

Theo leveled a deadpan stare at Stiles.

“I meant, do you know why he had a spare?”

“It’s not a spare. It’s the inspiration for reshaping his other blade. It wasn’t always a cane.”

“So he bought a sword cane at the shop and was like, by golly, I think I should adjust my magical metal to match?”

“I wasn’t exactly there.”

“Is this the most important thing for us to talk about right now?” Tracy asked.

“No,” Theo answered as Stiles said, “Definitely not.”

“We agreed on something.” Stiles grinned. “I’m so proud of us.”

“You’re more insufferable than I realized.”

“What should we talk about?” Tracy directed the question to Theo.

Rather than answering directly, Theo asked Stiles, “In the street, how did you reach me? I felt…” He trailed off, furrowing his brow.

“I don’t know that either. I’m guessing this.” He held up his left arm to show Theo the tattoo. “It’s not really what we thought we were making, and wouldn’t have done me much good if it was, so…” He shrugged.

“Oh, so I’m your experiment too.”

“I wasn’t doing fucking science, Theo. I was trying to save you.”

Theo clenched his jaw and stared at the wall.

“You were right,” Tracy told Theo. “About lasting effects from the Doctor’s experiments.”

Theo nodded but didn’t look at her.

“We’re going to be okay now,” she assured him.

“You are,” Theo agreed. “It wouldn’t have killed me.”

Tracy sighed.

The silence got too awkward for Stiles, so he asked Theo, “Do you want to wait here for Scott?”

“No.”

“You’ll have to talk to him eventually.”

“I know.” Theo scowled. “He’s going to be even worse than you.”

“Tonight’s already been a lot. If you want to avoid him, maybe you and Tracy should head out too.”

“You’re letting us go?”

“You’re not prisoners.”

“I think we need to trust Stiles,” Tracy said. “I wish he’d waited for my permission before doing anything to me,” she shot him a glare, “but I do feel better now.”

Stiles grimaced. “Sorry, Tracy. You’re right. I mean, I think you were trying to kill me, but I guess I’m supposed to stop using excuses so much. I should have stopped when you told me to.”

“I wasn’t trying to kill you. I was trying to paralyze you; it just didn’t work.”

Theo said, “I was trying to kill Hayden, and you were in the way. I guess that means I was trying to kill you.”

Tracy turned to Theo. “You said you just wanted to explain to her.”

“I lied.”

She looked down. Took a moment. “Come on. We should go.” She stood and offered Theo a hand.

They left together. Stiles leaned back and stared at the ceiling. He might be in over his head.

“We were spying on you,” Trick said.

Stiles jumped at their voice and swore a little too loudly when it jolted his knee. “I’m fine,” he said as Trick opened their mouth. “I should have known it was too quiet back there.” Stiles motioned to the office the others had left behind.

“You did pretty okay,” Trick continued, a little more cautiously than they usually would. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, I think.”

Trick laughed.

“Well, I’m not.” Dumbo swept through and threw himself onto the couch where he lounged so outrageously he managed to take up all three cushions on his own. “Next time demand Theo bring Josh back from the dead.”

“I don’t think it’s that simple,” Stiles said.

“Maybe for peasants like you lot.”

Trick took the armchair Hayden had vacated but leaned sideways with one leg slung over the armrest. “Excuse you, I’m artisan class.”

“Peasant artisan.”

“Is that why you’ve never asked me for a tattoo?”

“Indubitably.”

“Sure you’re not just afraid of needles?”

“Ha! As if they could puncture my noble skin.”

“Your pampered ass has never encountered anything sharper than a teddy bear in its life.”
                “It was a teddy bear fashioned from knives made of razor-sharp platinum.”

“It was a bad dream from which you woke crying for your mommy.”

“Well, it’s a crime for nightmares to dare penetrate my lofty skull.”

We’re pulling up outside, Derek thought. If you think you can spare a second from such… I honestly can’t think of anything to say that mocks them better than they do themselves.

“I’ll be back,” Stiles said. “You two carry on.”

Dumbo laughed. “As if you could have stopped us.”

                Trick faux-sneered. “Wow, asshole. Some of us would be considerate enough to let it go if he asked.”

                “As previously discussed, some of us—you, specifically—are mere peasants.”

                Stiles left them to it and headed out the front door to meet Derek as he arrived with Allison, Cat, and Gregson.

Stiles pulled Gregson—Sara—in for a hug the moment she came into view, climbing out of a shiny black SUV that pulled away as soon as it shed itself of its four passengers. Sara looked tired, but her bandages were fresh. Both her eyes looked her natural brown for the moment.

                “I’m sorry, Sara,” he said.

                She patted his back. “Sorry doesn’t do any good. But you sent Derek after me instead of Sorokin, and that did.”

                “I never thought they’d take you too.”

                “I did.” Sara pulled back. “You’re way too sentimental to have command over your friends, you know that?”

                “I do now.”

                “Is my fool inside?” Sara pointed past Stiles to the Stilinski house.

                “Yeah. He was arguing with Trick when I came out, but like, also not arguing?”

                “That’s some sort of game for them. Just ignore it, or say something more ridiculous than either of them can think of.” Sara shook her head, quietly amused, and turned to head into the house.

                Derek took Stiles’ hand once Sara had moved back. He slung Stiles’ arm across his own shoulders like he wanted to hug but took some of Stiles’ weight off his injured leg in the process.

“He’s dead,” Derek said with a nod to Cat. “Cat killed him.”

“Are you okay?” Stiles asked her.

Cat’s eyes widened in surprise, narrowed in uncertainty. “I’m fine.”

Stiles wasn’t sure what he had done wrong.

“I knew what I was doing,” Cat explained. “I knew it didn’t help when you killed him, and I never expected that to change when I did it. The point was to stop him, not erase what he's done.”

“We burned him,” Allison added. She spoke softly, but her voice sounded strained. She supported them, but likely never wanted to kill anyone. “I had Lydia check with Peter, and that should prevent anyone bringing him back again, though Peter thought the chances of anyone trying or succeeding at this point were low.”

Stiles nodded, not sure what to say.

“The agents who Scott’s father sent are processing everyone else at Sorokin’s base,” Derek said. “They let us ride in a helicopter back to town.”

“I’m not staying,” Allison said. “Lydia texted to say the others were meeting here, but I need to—” She cut off for a long, shaky breath. “I need to go to my father.”

Her aunt had just died. Her father had just killed his own sister.

Stiles slid out of Derek’s arms to hug Allison and promised to tell the others where she had gone.

“Don’t let them come after me,” she requested. “Not tonight.”

“I won’t. Do you need someone to walk with you?”

“I’d rather be alone.”

Stiles kissed her cheek and hugged her again, and then they let Allison walk home.

“Your dad’s not here,” Derek noted to Stiles as they entered the house together.

“He and Scott’s dad went to the station,” Stiles said. “Dad texted to tell me but hasn’t said more. He’s probably too busy right now.”

Inside, Sara had pushed Dumbo into a single couch cushion and sat beside him.

When she saw Stiles, Sara motioned him over with one hand. “Trick says your tattoo changed. Show me.”

Stiles let her hold his wrist to study the tattoo.

“Is this how you would have drawn it?” she asked Trick.

Trick shrugged. “It’s in my style, if that’s what you mean. I can’t know if that’s the exact design I’d have ended up with.”

“How did it change?”

“Fuck if I know.” Trick shrugged.

Sara looked up at Stiles. “Any ideas?”

“...Magic.”

She laughed and pushed his hand away.

Derek had taken Stiles’ armchair and pulled Stiles over to sit on the arm with Derek’s arms around his waist.

“Did the others do it?” Derek asked. “Is it over?”

“Yeah. I don’t have all the details yet, but, yeah, I think it’s over.”

Dumbo raised a hand. “Raf and I did the absolute best planning and coordination ever, after you lot abandoned us. He never actually told me how it went down, but we got Jesters in contact with FBI agents. I know at least some of them were supposed to get explosives. I need him to tell me if anyone got exploded, especially Yukio.”

“You’ll have to be patient,” Sara said.

“Ew.” Dumbo made a face.

“I hear you saved Trick,” Sara prompted.

“Noticed Dorian nosing around Trick’s apartment while they were out, so I intercepted them and got a couple sidekicks to help me hide Trick until Stiles returned to save the day.”

Sara turned to Stiles next.

“Scott is the one who fought Dorian after Ethan and Isaac got their asses kicked.”

She wants to hear about Hayden and Theo, not Dorian, Derek told him.

Stiles leveled a sidelong glare at Derek but said, “I helped Hayden a little though.”

Derek groaned. Sara raised an eyebrow. Trick snickered. Dumbo gave him a thumbs up.

Stiles launched into a vague and meandering explanation of the Doctors’ work with frequency, and Watchtower’s work with frequency, and the leftover effect growing more pronounced in the chimeras over time as the Doctors’ absence prevented adjustments. He suspected the dissonance might have been part of what triggered the mercury poisoning in chimeras back when the Doctors were around, and said so.

Dumbo looked very pleased, and Sara looked very bored, so Stiles knew this wasn’t what she’d wanted him to tell. He didn’t really know how to tell the rest. Derek dropped his head against Stiles’ arm and left it there, defeated.

Finally, Trick interrupted, “How did you get Theo to work with you?”

“I asked.”

Dumbo laughed.

“Stiles, how are you the least emotionally intelligent person in a room containing Eddie?” Sara struggled to speak past barely contained laughter.

“Willfully.” Stiles made a face. “I told Theo that what he’d done had hurt him too, that I wanted to save him instead of hurt him more, and that I couldn’t do it alone. So… he helped.”

“That’s all it took?” Sara asked.

“I was quoting Scott, who is super inspirational by default. Mostly, I don’t think anyone offered to help Theo before.” Stiles fidgeted a little until Derek poked his ribs. “I also think I did a telepathy at him a little bit, but like, just to look around. I didn’t change anything. I couldn’t reach even if I’d wanted to because there was a giant ice wall in his brain.”

Sara’s eyes widened. “You can do that?”

Stiles lifted hands and shoulders in a sustained shrug.

Trick snorted.

“He is eloquent,” Sara said, as though agreeing with whatever Trick hadn’t said.

Stiles shifted his pose to point at the star talisman with just as much uncertainty as before.

“I can see it’s really important to you to figure out how you wind up in other people’s brains,” Sara noted.

“I was gonna chill tonight and let future Stiles worry about it, honestly. I’m tired.”

Derek said, “For the record, I’m glad you saved Theo. For your sake, not his.”

“I think Tracy’s the only one who cares for Theo’s sake, including Theo,” Stiles said.

“I’m also glad you missed killing Sorokin.”

“Did you…?”

Sara answered for him. “We missed it too. He was dead by the time we caught up with Allison and Cat.” After a second she pulled a pouch from her pocket, saying, “We got my eye back. Sorry I forgot to confirm that sooner. I’m going to sanitize it physically and spiritually.”

“Yeah, he used it.” Stiles winced at the memory.

You okay? Derek asked.

I’ll be fine. It freaked me out, but I guess he can’t hurt us now.

Trick began taunting Dumbo, and they resumed their game of false arguments with occasional input from Sara.

Are you okay? Stiles asked Derek.

I’ll be fine too.

About what I did before…

I’m okay, and I know you won’t do it again. I’m not sure you could, now that I've felt how it works.

I’m a very bad psychic, Stiles agreed.

You’ve been getting better, very, very slowly.

Jerk. I missed you.

I missed you too.

.x.

Scott’s voice crackled through the speaker phone. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stick around.”

“We’re good, Scott. You explained your extreme truancy habit to me.”

Scott groaned. “I thought you wanted a favor from me.”

“I mean, yeah, but even Lydia said goodbye.”

Stiles closed the fridge with his hip since his hands were full of canned sodas. That was a mistake, according to his knee, but only a minor one. When he finally went back to physical therapy and explained that he had fallen on the knee and hurt it again, he was going to get the worst lecture. Second worst. Eventually, Allison would find out too.

Scott said, “They would have to be stupid to kick Lydia out. She’s a genius.”

“Well, you have magic powers that help you soothe animals, so a veterinary program would also be stupid to kick you out.”

“They don’t know I’m a werewolf.”

“You’re still the best, so maybe they should shut up and see it.” Stiles set the drinks on the counter.

“I still don’t see why you need my help. You can ask him directly.”

“He hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you.”

“He hates me and has refused to help me every time I’ve ever asked him to.”

“This is different. You’re trying to help someone else.”

“I can’t imagine he likes Theo any more than he likes me.”

“That’s not what he—” Scott made a strangled, frustrated sound. “When you asked him for help before, it was for the power to take revenge. That’s not what he does, so he couldn’t help.”

“It was definitely a choice on his part.”

“But now you’re trying to help someone else come back from exactly those sorts of things. That is what he does, so he’ll help you. He did help when you told him about Aidan.”

“Begrudgingly, so I think he’ll believe it more if it comes from you.”

“Fine, but you still have to ask him yourself. I’m only explaining the circumstances for you.”

“Thank you, Scott.”

“This is really important to you, isn’t it?”

“Theo’s sort of like my fresh start, and Deaton’s sort of hyper-aware of my past mistakes.”

“Do you…” Scott paused, but not seeing him made it hard to guess why. “Do you believe Theo is going to try to be better?”

“He knows I can kick his ass if he returns to his evil ways.”

“You almost died.”

“I barely needed backup. The weakest member of his pack turned the tide for me.”

“Corey still has super strength.”

“Yeah, but he’s the least down-to-fight person in the entire town.” Stiles shook his head. That wasn’t his point.

“That’s not a bad thing.”

“I know. Maybe we can do like you said in the car, make it so he won’t need to fight anymore.”

Stiles couldn’t see Scott’s face, but somehow he felt Scott grinning proudly at him despite the miles between them.

Stiles cleared his throat. “Anyway, I’ve adopted them all as my children, I guess. I should probably inform Derek that he’s a father.”

Scott laughed. “Speaking of your boyfriend, tell him to call me back.”

“He’s afraid if he calls you, you’re going to make him your second and put him in charge.”

“Co-second. Allison is definitely also in charge. Even when I’m in town.”

Stiles chuckled.

Scott said, “I need to believe you all have it handled when I’m away. So I can stay away.”

“We do.”

“Allison and Derek are the only people in town I think have a chance of controlling you. Well, Allison, anyway.”

“Oh, shit, you’re right.”

“I know. I am the alpha.”

“The smug alpha.”

“I could use an emissary. Deaton won’t stay forever. He was retired before I was bitten.”

“We’re working on it. You’re talking to him. I think you knew it was for more than just Theo.”

“I’m just saying, don’t be an ass when you talk to him.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Your best?”

“My real best. I promise.” Stiles gave up trying to juggle the phone and drinks all at once. “I gotta go. Text me after you talk to him.”

“Text me after you do too.”

Stiles brought the sodas out to where the others waited for him, most of them sitting around the table on the porch. Peter and Malia were in the yard, wrestling or training, maybe both. Either way, Peter seemed to be enjoying himself. Derek had taken the bench and scooted now to make room for Stiles beside him while Noah and Rafael turned away from watching the superhuman antics of the nearby werewolf and werecoyote.

“Next time,” Stiles said, “Someone without a limp gets these. Also, I left my cane in the kitchen, and can someone empty my arms and then go get it.”

Noah sighed, took the drinks, and guided Stiles to a seat, in that order. Derek snickered, moving only to select a drink.

As soon as he sat, Stiles realized he could have carried the drinks with his brain. Someday, he would remember that he was a powerful mage, or whatever you called someone wielding magic talismans. Training himself to actually use his power outside of combat and confrontation was step one of his plan for now.

“Thanks, Stiles,” Rafael said as he took a drink from the table Noah left them on.

Stiles scrunched his nose. “You’re still here.”

“Not sure where you think I’d have gone in the time it took to walk to the kitchen and back.”

“I also took a phone call.” Stiles made a face at Rafael and grabbed his own soda before anyone else could take his favorite.

“Edmund said you wanted to talk to me,” Rafael said.

“I want the information you have about how things are going; that’s not the same thing.”

To be honest, Stiles had hoped, and strongly hinted, that Derek would ask Rafael a few pointed questions while Stiles was inside.

Rafael sighed almost exactly the same sigh Noah had and motioned with his thumb toward Peter and Malia. “Are they supposed to be in this?”

“They have super hearing, so they can join us if they hear something they care about, I guess.”

Rafael grimaced. “Of course they do.”

“As does your son.”

“I know, I know.” Rafael leaned back and waved his hand. “We’re here to talk, let’s talk. Did your father explain yet why we went to the station?”

Noah had said that with the FBI mole in custody, Rafael’s superiors had ordered him to begin coordinating with local law enforcement. Since there were various locales, it was primarily over the phone, but he and Noah called in a few deputies to help coordinate, which made working at the station itself most sensible.

Stiles said as much, and Rafael nodded confirmation.

“Do you care about how we managed it, or only the results?” Rafael asked.

“Just talk.”

“Working with local police meant we could deploy officers to Watchtower locations much more quickly than waiting for agents to fly out or the national guard to assemble, not that anyone would ever confirm to me if we had been authorized to mobilize the guard, so I’d guess that was stuck in bureaucracy.”

“Whaaaaaat. America would never.”

“Really, Stiles?”

At least Derek was laughing, if only internally.

Noah said, “I missed most of this because Scott brought in Brenna Dorian, so I was processing her.”

Stiles had already spoken to Scott and knew that while Isaac and Ethan had been hurt, both were already healed. Melissa had helped treat Ethan, but Isaac’s healing factor had been enough for his injuries. Scott was too humble to say how he defeated an opponent who escaped Peter and Theo; he kept insisting they would have taken her earlier if they’d worked together.

“Cormac Flynn is dead. I assume that was them.” Rafael pointed again to Peter and Malia. “Many of Dorian’s people scattered, and we lost more than a few in the confusion. The distraction also made room for some of Yukio Jackson’s followers to escape, though Jackson himself was ‘mysteriously’ delivered right to us.”

“We call him Yukio because we knew a guy named Jackson, actually.”

“I don’t care.”

“Two guys named Jackson if you count Jax, but he does use a nickname.”

“Jax is a nickname?” Derek asked, though Stiles couldn’t tell without cheating if Derek was serious.

“Yeah, his name is… fuck, I know this.” Stiles was certain Sara had told him. He snapped his fingers when it came to him. “Jackson Ridgmar.”

“That was really difficult for you.” Derek did not manage to say it with a straight face.

“I thought you wanted to hear this?” Rafael scowled at Stiles and Derek alike.

“This is how I process information, okay. Just let it be.” Stiles raised his voice to shout, “Peter, was it you or Setter who got Yukio?”

Malia knocked Peter down when he was distracted and laughed over him.

Peter rolled his eyes and trudged to the porch. “We managed that together. Setter had already located him and sent Spade to bring Malia and I in for backup to ensure he couldn't escape. Then we all made ourselves scarce rather than deal with any questions.”

“You wouldn’t have been detained,” Rafael said. “We told them we had operatives within each location, and Edmund got us the names.”

“Dumbo,” Stiles corrected. “Or, Felix, technically, but he still seems attached to Dumbo.”

Rafael shook his head. “I refuse to call him Dumbo, and he refuses to answer to Felix.”

Peter leaned over the rail and pointed to the drinks Stiles had brought. “Can I have one of those?”

“Go for it.” Stiles pushed one over to him. He turned back to Rafael. “How are you going to make sure your Watchtower prisoners stay prisoners this time?”

“I can’t tell that to a civilian, Stiles.”

“But you have plans?”

“Of course.”

“Ones capable of restraining werewolves? Because you don’t have humans this time.”

“Brynn Naramsin was also a werewolf,” Rafael reminded him.

“And you lost her.”

“She didn’t escape; she was assassinated.”

“I think you’re lucky you weren’t assassinated.”

“We’ve developed more countermeasures to prevent another mole as well.”

“Shouldn’t you have had those before?”

“We did.” Rafael gritted his teeth. “Before you ask, we found the weakness he exploited and eliminated it.”

“What was it?”

“I can’t tell you that either.”

“Is it embarrassing?”

“Stiles, you know I can’t reveal confidential information to you.”

“Yeah, but if you could, would it be embarrassing?”

“No, it would be boring. You would find almost every aspect of my job, including this operation, boring. It’s a lot less saving people than it is organization and paperwork.”

“Oh no, I think you managed to be right about something.”

Rafael rubbed his temple like he was fighting a headache.

“Oh no,” Stiles said again, recognizing the gesture. “I’m to everyone else what Dumbo is to me.”

Derek laughed out loud this time.

Rafael sighed the sigh Stiles wished he could sigh at Dumbo on a daily basis. “If that’s enough to satisfy your curiosity for now, that paperwork I mentioned still needs doing.”

“Ew.”

“Does that mean I can go?”

“I can’t stop you. Or, I can, but I’m not about that.”

“Do you have any more questions that you need me to stay to answer right now?”

“Only if you have anything actually interesting or new that you’re cleared to tell me but I haven’t thought to ask about yet.”

“I don’t. I thought your father told you that.” Rafael eyed Noah.

“I tried,” Noah sighed.

“Come on,” Stiles urged. “I can keep a secret.”

Derek coughed.

Stiles glared at him.

“Fine. Go work the paper,” Stiles grumbled.

Rafael groaned as he left.

“Hey, while you’re in there, wanna bring me my cane?” Stiles called after him, but Rafael ignored it.

You okay? Derek asked. With it all being done?

Yes. Sorry. Was I weird?

Not by your standards.

:(

Please, don’t do that.

I’m gonna! >:)

It’s annoying.

But I love you!~ <3<3<3<333

Derek laughed. He stifled it and covered his mouth.

You’re blushing. Are you embarrassed? Stiles teased.

I’m not blushing.

If you’re not busy being mortified, why didn’t you say it back? :’(

Oh my god. I love you too. You dork.

:D

“Peter, look at this!” Malia called from where she had climbed into the large tree that dominated the backyard.

Peter left his drink on the porch railing and jogged back to Malia, leaping fully into the tree from the ground.

“Not getting used to that,” Noah mumbled to himself. He shook his head and turned back to Stiles. “Chris told me they buried Kate in her grave, but he doesn’t want to talk about it. Do you know how Allison’s holding up?”

“Lydia was with her,” Derek said. “She helped a little.”

“Allison said she’s taking a few days off from school. Her dad helped her arrange it, I guess.” Stiles frowned at his hands. “She’s obviously not doing great now, but she’ll be okay.”

Noah nodded. “And what about you two?”

Stiles shrugged. “I’m fine.”

Derek pinched his arm, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to offend Stiles.

Noah said, “Stiles, you focused yourself completely on Watchtower, and now it’s gone. Do you know what’s next for you?”

“Sort of, maybe,” Stiles admitted. “It’s not really school or work, though.” He knew that was what people really wanted from him, what would convince them he had moved on.

“Hobbies or volunteering count too.”

“I’ll let you know if it works out.”

“However it goes, I’m proud of you for trying. Come here; I need to hug you.”

Stiles pretended to groan as his father leaned over Derek to squeeze him in a too-tight hug.

Once he had released Stiles and taken his own seat across the table, Noah asked Derek, “What about you? Any plans yet?”

“I might apply for online classes. Before… before I came back to Beacon Hills, I was studying history. I doubt my credits will transfer, but I don’t mind too much if I redo them. I never made it far.”

“A history major?” Noah asked.

“Is that strange?”

“Not at all. It just seems a little hands-off for you.”

Derek shrugged uncomfortably. “I considered archaeology or literature too, and I’m still working on the building. Eventually, we’ll be able to let our supernatural guests stay there instead of squatting in buildings on the dead side of town when they visit.”

“Is that what all that’s for?” Stiles asked, but they ignored him.

Noah smiled. “I’m proud of you too, Derek. Let me know if you need anything. I write excellent letters of recommendation.”

“You copy and paste the same letter with different fill-in-the-blank adjectives!” Stiles accused.

“It’s an excellent letter.”

“You two,” Peter said, dropping into the chair on Stiles’ left, “are extremely related.”

Malia snatched the drink Peter was reaching for with a grin.

“You take after your mother,” Peter complained.

“She’s an assassin,” Malia said, “not a thief.”

Peter shrugged. “She irks me.”

“I irk you?”

“When you steal from me.”

“These are the sheriff’s.”

“I don’t have another retort.”

Malia grinned. “I win.”

Peter sighed, but there was something softer beneath it, something happier.

Love.

Stiles had never felt anything quite like it from Peter. He had come close. Peter did love Derek still, but it was a strained love, damaged by the hurt they’d caused each other.

Stiles reached over the gap between their chairs to set his left hand on Peter’s arm and felt the threads still hanging on, the leftovers of their frayed bond. He didn’t put it to words, but he knew, now that he felt them, he could cut the last threads, sever their bond, free Peter from him.

Peter set his hand over Stiles’. “Don’t.”

Stiles nodded. He took his hand back.

Noah sighed. “Well, I’ve got almost as much paperwork to get through as Rafael. I’d better go too.”

“Will you be back in time for dinner?” Stiles asked.

“I will. See you then, son.”

Peter asked, “Are we done then? I thought there’d be more moralizing.”

“What does that mean?” Malia asked.

“Definition, or what did I think they’d be saying?”

“Second one.”

“Mostly lectures on how I should have let Flynn live.”

“We tried to. It didn’t work.”

“I know, but they don’t. They didn’t even ask. I had a whole explanation ready with notes on when to look remorseful and a moment to clench my fist to my chest as though holding back my overflowing regret.”

“Really?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Does that work?”

“Sometimes.”

“Hm.” Her brow furrowed in thought.

Stiles said, “It doesn’t work on me. I’d know if you were full of shit.”

“It would have been the truth, just… exaggerated.”

“Hold onto it for when Scott gets back into town.”

Peter grimaced. “On that note…”

He stood and motioned to ask if Malia was joining him. She nodded and followed, taking the soda she’d stolen from Peter.

There wasn’t much to see in the backyard with everyone gone. The tree’s leaves shifted slightly as the breeze passed among them. A squirrel hurried down its trunk and across the yard. Stiles’ drink fizzed softly in the can.

Derek’s thoughts grew heavy, but Stiles waited for him to put them to words.

I thought I would die, Derek thought. I didn’t know how; I just didn’t believe I would survive the fall of Watchtower. When I made you promise to move on, it was because I thought I wouldn’t be strong enough to save you without giving my life for yours.

I glad that didn’t fucking happen.

Me too.

When I agreed to move on without you, I lied a little.

I know. Me too.

I’ll promise you for real now, but I think your life expectancy is longer than mine.

Healing magic might extend your life, actually.

Ooh, good point. Stiles grinned. Then let’s very slowly grow old together.

As if we could manage it apart.

We could.

Derek thought it over. We might.

Let’s not though.

Derek kissed him.

.x.

Deaton's clinic was empty of pet owners. Stiles pushed into the back, giving the door a quick rap with his cane to let Deaton know he was coming. He found Deaton at his desk, filling out some form or another in a room lit more by the quickly dimming sunlight streaming through the open blinds than the meager lamp on his desk.

                Stiles leaned against the doorframe to take the weight from his bad leg as he crossed his arms, cane now dangling too high to reach the ground as he held it hooked around his wrist at chest height.

                Stiles took his time studying the druid before he spoke. "You told me you couldn't teach me because I couldn't maintain balance."

Deaton nodded, looking up from his paperwork. "I hear your tattoo changed.”

Stiles groaned. Deaton was always like this.

“May I see it?” Deaton asked.

Stiles crossed the office and held out his left wrist for Deaton to study.

“The Star,” Deaton mused, “follows the Tower in the major arcana.”

“Is that… good?”

“It is often considered a sign of renewal.”

“So that’s a yes?”

Deaton sighed. “I assume you will insist on,” he fumbled for the right word, “flippancy.”

“I can be serious, but it’s harder when the people around me are being vague.”

“Scott told me why you’re here.” Deaton took his coat from the back of his chair and draped it over his arm. “There is something you and I must do because, I believe, you and I are the only ones who can.”

“Okay, but that’s still vague.”

“I’ll explain on the way.”

“Oh, you mean now.”

Deaton motioned for Stiles to precede him out of the clinic and removed a small box from his desk before turning off the lights. He didn’t say anything else of use until they were both in the Jeep heading to the preserve that surrounded the town.

Derek asked, Should I meet you out there?

No. I’ll be fine with Deaton.

Derek let his worry seep through the bond but withdrew.

“I’ve kept in touch with your friend Trick, trying in vain to make them refuse you more tattoos.”

“Are you the one who’s been freaking them out about the blood magic?”

“If it were only me, I think they would have disregarded the warnings entirely. They should have stopped, but at least they began protecting themself.”

“What does Trick have to do with us going to the woods alone at night?” Stiles asked.

“I told you before that I don't channel magic myself, but I believe I need someone now who can. Through Trick’s tattoos, you, Stiles, can channel the magic we need to save the nemeton.”

“The nemeton?” Stiles knew bits and pieces about the big, chopped down, magic tree in the forest outside Beacon Hills. The darach had used it, forcing Scott, Allison, and Lydia to sacrifice themselves to it. The tree acted as a beacon, drawing monsters to Beacon Hills. But it repelled them too, Stiles remembered. Nike had told him the tree was broken.

“It slept or half-slept for many years, but fully waking the nemeton also released those it held. The nogitsune escaped to possess Allison. The Dread Doctors, for long years only able to partially enter this world due to the nemeton’s power holding them at bay, finally broke its hold over them and created a new batch of chimeras for their experiments.”

“You mean they’d done this before?”

“Yes. I’ve seen one other operating theater belonging to them, but I doubt there were only the two.”

“If the nemeton is supposed to be a beacon and a prison, but now it’s drawing in and pushing away, does that mean they reversed the direction of the force holding them in?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“I think you will find it very similar to the changes they made to the chimeras, which you have already corrected.”

“So I’m supposed to do the same thing to the big tree stump.”

“I’ll help you align the nemeton spiritually as you do.”

“Cool.”

“Stiles, it’s important that you stay focused as you work. Your power can be chaotic, and unrestrained chaos is anathema to the work we do tonight.”

“Is this like a test?”

“This is what we must do to protect our home.”

“But is it also like a test to see if I can hold chaos at bay or whatever?”

Deaton sighed. “No, it’s not a test.”

“Then you already decided if you’ll teach me or not.”

“Right now, you need to focus on the nemeton.”

“No, right now I’m driving. Will you teach me?”

“If you go into this in an emotional state, you’ll find balance much more difficult.”

“So you won’t teach me, but you didn’t want to tell me because you need me to do this for you.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Well, it’s what I heard, so if you want to say something else, now’s a good time to speak up.”

“I will teach you, Stiles, if you can maintain balance.”

“So it is a test, and you lied.”

“It’s not a test. I already know you can do this because you’ve done it four times.”

“So something else is the test.”

“Every day of the rest of your life is a test, Stiles, but I am not the proctor. You are. Your nature naturally aligns nearer chaos than order, but it takes both to achieve balance as druids understand it. You will learn as much as you can, and when you can learn no more, I will teach you no more.”

It took effort to keep his eyes on the road. “If it’s not a test, is it like my first lesson?”

Deaton laughed despite himself and sucked in air as if trying to hold his first response back. “When Scott left, he said he believed that only Allison, of everyone in Beacon Hills, could truly keep you in line. I just realized he included me in that assessment.”

“Hey, if it helps, he included me too.”

“No, Stiles, that’s worse.”

Stiles pulled the Jeep over when Deaton indicated, but they had to hike into the woods to find the nemeton.

Deaton asked, “Can you feel where it is?”

Stiles stopped walking. “Do you not know?”

“It can hide itself.”

“And you’re just telling me now?”

“You will find I tell you many things in the moment you need them and not before. There is no way to tell you everything ahead of time.”

“Is that a lesson too?”

“Do you think it is?”

Stiles grimaced, muttering vaguely to himself.

He knelt and set his left hand against the earth. Closing his eyes, he listened to the forest. There was little birdsong in the darkness, but insects filled the air instead with their softer hum. Leaves rustled in the wind. The forest pulsed with life.

A counterbeat, out of time, out of tune, but stronger nearly than the whole rest of the forest combined. So loud it filled Stiles’ ears, rushing over him. Even when Stiles stood, lifting his fingers and star talisman from contact with the earth, he heard the nemeton’s lurching pulse.

“The nemeton is stronger than I can handle,” Stiles said. “It’s a lot more than even Theo, and I needed his help.”

“That’s why you’re not alone. Can you lead us there?”

With a nod, Stiles took the first step. Each step after was harder than the last. The off-beat psychic waves coming off the nemeton repelled him.

“Trees don’t have brains, right?”

“No.”

“How come it’s psychic?”

“Psychic and mystic energies are often linked despite their differences. I suspect it was psychic energy which the Doctors used to tamper with the typically more mystical nemeton.”

The huge stump came into view in a clearing ahead. Stiles pointed to it and stepped through the last of the trees at Deaton’s side.

“A moment while I prepare,” Deaton said.

He took the thin box he had lifted from his desk out of his pocket. The box contained a sprig of leaves and berries beside a vial of water. Deaton placed the twig on the stump and sprinkled the water over it.

“These are from a rowan, or mountain ash, tree,” Deaton said. “They are to show the nemeton our intended alignment. Oaks are so powerful they can shift their own alignment, but rowans are steadfast.”

“Weird.”

“The water is purifying.”

“It’s not enough water to actually wash anything, so I guess it’s symbolic?”

Deaton nodded. He set his hands against the nemeton’s stump and closed his eyes. “Join me now, and try to sense the nemeton. Do not act yet.”

Stiles knelt beside Deaton and set both hands against the old stump because Deaton had, even though Stiles only seemed to access his talisman by touching with his left hand.

The nemeton’s frequency fought against Stiles’, even at rest as they were. Something small and bright brushed against it, the offerings Deaton had laid out. A force so small could not change the great tree. Stiles, though stronger than a few leaves, berries, and drops of water, still fell far short of the nemeton.

“Feel how the nemeton’s energy flows through the forest,” Deaton instructed.

“It doesn’t,” Stiles said. “It’s repelled.”

“Then feel where it should.”

Stiles found the choke points. The nemeton’s energy flowed outward and back in again like a circulatory system through the heart, or it should have. Where it clashed against the forest’s incompatible energy, it churned back against itself.

“I see it,” Stiles said.

“Now, feel the rowan.”

Stiles had already noticed it but focused on the soft, protective shine of the rowan. It was too little to clash against the nemeton as the forest did, but it was too strong in its own bright song to fall to the warped frequency pulsing outward from the nemeton.

“Show the rowan to the nemeton.”

“Um. They’re trees.”

“Just try.”

Stiles reached for a small current of the nemeton’s energy, just a tendril small enough to fit within the rowan’s energy, and he threaded it through the rowan’s light. When it came out the other side, that one tendril of the nemeton’s power pulsed in time with the rowan, with Stiles, with the forest, with the frequency of this world.

Though Stiles tried to pull back, the thread held him tethered. It was thin, never growing thicker, but it showed no sign of ever ending. The purified thread of power wound itself around a second corrupted thread and purified it. The pure threads split, working on two fronts until those grew large enough to work on four. In his mind’s eye, Stiles saw countless brilliantly glowing threads wrapping around and purifying the dark, rusty energy of the misaligned nemeton. And still, the thread he worked with flowed.

“I think it’s working,” Deaton said. “It should be able to handle the rest itself.”

“I can’t stop,” Stiles said. “It won’t let me.”

He tried again to pull back, to let the thread push itself or let the others take over. The nemeton held him firmly in place.

“It’s okay. See it through.”

“Is it safe?”

“Trust me, Stiles.”

“That was a yes or n—”

The nemeton pulled Stiles’ focus back in. He poured himself into passing it through the tiny sprig of rowan. The nemeton flowed through the forest again, no longer clashing. Its flow grew even and soft.

The thread in Stiles’ hands thickened. Soon, it would overwhelm the small sample of rowan. Stiles tried to reach for another thread to strengthen the rowan before the remaining poison overwhelmed it, but they flowed through his fingers like sand. The only part of the tree he could still touch was that which held him firmly in place.

The rowan’s light flickered. The thread grew too powerful, no longer so much a thread as a rope. Stiles couldn’t let the rowan fail. He needed more light.

He used his own.

Stiles held two palms against the great nemeton’s stump and channeled its energy through one hand, through his body, and out the other hand, back to the nemeton itself.

The rope’s end approached, connected to a pulsing mass which pushed the Doctors’ frequency out from itself like a scream. It passed into Stiles, still screaming. He choked on it, but he couldn’t hold his breath. He forced the air in and out and through the distorted, beating heart of the nemeton until finally, it passed out of him, beating in time with his own heart at last.

It was done.

The nemeton released Stiles and flowed joyously into the forest, into the world, one at last with the earth.

Stiles collapsed forward gasping, exhausted.

“Stiles!” Deaton placed a hand on his back and leaned forward. “Are you okay?”

“Just tired.” Stiles breathed, though even that left him aching.

Deaton examined him anyway.

With the nemeton gone, Derek found his way back, and in feeling that, Stiles realized the nemeton had held other minds separate from Stiles’. Not by choice any more than the riptide would pull them to sea by choice.

Even Peter had felt it and worried now, though he couldn’t interrogate Stiles psychically the way Derek could.

What happened? Derek demanded. He was in his car already, driving out to meet Stiles.

It’s fine.

Derek growled.

The Doctors forced the nemeton’s frequency out of alignment just like they did the chimeras’. We fixed it. It wasn’t trying to hurt me, and I’m not in danger now. I just feel like I ran several miles while holding my breath.

You weren’t ready for this.

I would never be ready for this, and it’s better for everyone that it’s done sooner. Call Peter for me; he’s freaking out.

Derek grimaced at the thought of speaking to his uncle, but he would do it for Stiles. Stiles pressed gently against his mind, urging Derek out of his thoughts for now.

“You seem fine,” Deaton said, though his voice lacked its usual calm.

“I did it,” Stiles gasped. “It worked.” He laughed, though it hurt his lungs.

“I didn't anticipate it taking so heavy a toll. The nemeton should have had the power to heal itself.” Deaton sounded apologetic. If he’d ever used such a tone before, it hadn’t been to Stiles.

“It needed a little help with its heart. I don’t know what that would be literally, but the psychic metaphor my brain filtered it through was a heart.”

“I’ve always heard you’re a poor psychic.” This time, Deaton’s tone implied truth contradicted his words.

“I had a sort of mental block. It’s gone now.”

Though Deaton’s face wore the expression most did before shaking their heads at what Stiles said, he nodded. “When you’re recovered enough for the walk, we’ll head back.”

“Yeah.” Stiles leaned back against the nemeton, breathing slow and shallow to give his aching lungs a break.

I could carry you, Derek offered.

I thought you left. Go home, silly.

Peter says warn him next time.

I didn’t know.

I told him that. He said find out ahead of time.

He would.

Stiles pushed Derek back again, but Derek slipped past.

You’re right. You are improving. Derek grinned. I’m still the better psychic.

Stiles laughed again and winced at the pain.

Sorry, Derek told him.

Next time, you heal the magic tree.

When Stiles pushed him back again, Derek went with something that felt like blowing a kiss, so Stiles imagined blowing one back just before Derek’s mind passed out of reach.

Deaton sat watching Stiles, though it was hard to say whether he was still worried or if he had noticed Stiles’ expression going slack as it often did when he spoke to Derek. Stiles needed to work on that.

“Hey, Deaton,” Stiles said even though his voice was weak.

“Yes, Stiles?”

                "I'm ready for balance now."

                With a soft smile, Deaton leaned against the tree trunk beside Stiles to wait. "Yes, you are."

                Stiles felt the pulse of life through the nemeton, through the forest, through the city, circulating through it all and back to its source, to the nemeton, to Stiles where he leaned against its bark. His heart beat in time with the forest.

                It wasn’t good, exactly, not like Scott was good, but it was right. The tree, the forest, Stiles, together without the cruel forces that hurt them. Life flowed through them together like a song, different in every one of them, in every person, in every animal, in every plant and every leaf, but harmonizing together in their differences. In balance.

End