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Stiles knew that most people thought he was a weird kid. It was in the looks, the underhanded comments and muttered condolences to his dad about having a crazy wife and child. Not that they said those words exactly, but Stiles had been reading between the lines since he could read.
His dad had regretted the day he bought his son a Magic 8 Ball just because Scott had gotten one and Stiles wouldn’t stop talking about it. So that’s when all the ‘your son is crazy’ started off, before it was just ‘your son is very irritating.’
At the age seven, Stiles believed he was Magic. Every time he wanted to do something, out came the ball. At first, Stiles thinks that his dad thought it was funny. All the answers usually helped him get in and out of situations.
‘Should I go play with Scott?’
Signs Point To Yes
‘Should I bring his extra inhaler?’
Yes Definitely
And what do you know, Scott had already been playing at the park without his inhaler and Stiles had arrived just on time to give him his inhaler when he had an asthma attack.
Mrs. McCall had thanked Stiles so much she had gotten him a candy the next time she took him to the hospital to see his mom.
As Stiles got older, the habit never broke but the ball got snarkier with the replies. He thinks it’s because he’s asking snarkier things, and his Magic is an asshole as well.
This brings us to the situation Stiles is currently in, which is decidedly one of the more reckless things he’s done in his life. Stiles had gotten into the habit of sneaking out of the house (can’t really sneak out if no one is home) most nights to explore Beacon Hills. He usually stays in town and walks the backstreets, meeting people. Some of whom are not really on the right side of the law and others who have some form of otherness to them, much like Stiles himself. These are the people who don’t think he is that crazy for consulting a kid’s toy.
Miss June, the little old lady who will curse you and your family for always and eternity if you mess with her, got him his first set of Tarot cards and knucklebones. Mike got him started into hacking, along with introducing the more supernatural side of the deep web once he saw Miss June giving him lessons. There was also Tracy, Croaker and many others that owed him favors or he owed favors to.
But tonight, there were no lessons as his Magic decided the Preserve was where he needed to go. It started off normally, with a single question.
“Should I go see Tracy?” Tracy wanted to teach him some meditation that was supposed to ‘broaden his mind.’ Which was a load of shit and a rip-off of Harry Potter if you asked him.
My Answer Is No.
“Alright, no divination tonight. What about the others?”
Don’t Count On It.
“What the fuck? Am I meeting new people?”
As I See It, Yes
Many a question later, Stiles was headed to the Preserve with only his backpack that stocked his first aid kit and laptop, phone and a Magic 8 Ball that only answered yes or no questions. Which was not what he had planned tonight.
Stiles was not a happy camper. There were creatures that lived in the woods, which was why he never really wanted to go out there, especially in the middle of the night. He counted seven trips over tree roots by the time he asked if he was going to trip and break his neck.
Concentrate And Ask Again
“What the hell? Am I going to die tonight? Is this revenge for all the fucking questions I asked as a kid?” He shook the magic ball furiously, “If I die, you die too!”
Very Doubtful
“Oh you mother fu—Fine onwards to my death it is.” He didn’t know if the no was towards the fact his magic would die or he would die but he could do without the sarcasm. When he looked down at the ball again, it showed a different answer.
Ask Again Later
So death was still on the table. He knew he should have had a reading before he went out tonight.
“So someone is going to die tonight?”
It Is Certain
“Am I supposed to prevent that death?” He stared down at the ball, confused, as he didn’t really have anything with him that could save someone’s life—his little first aid kit notwithstanding.
Better Not Tell You Now
The blue triangle seemed smug at its not answer and Stiles was on the verge of throwing it at a tree. But he sighed, the little asshole never steered him wrong even when he was down on his luck.
So onwards he trucked through trees older than him and followed a path that was certainly not there before. It almost seemed like the land was guiding him somewhere, which was not a good sign to him. It took a couple more minutes of walking (tumbling) before he started to smell the scent of smoke.
“Is someone having a bonfire? In the middle of the Preserve? Smokey the Bear would be so disappointed.”
The hand holding his Magic Ball tingled, much like a static electricity shock. “Ow! What the hell man? I didn’t even ask you a question!” Stiles brought it up to read anyways, as he had only once gotten a reaction like that before and the day did not end well for anyone involved.
My Sources Say No
“No?? Shit. Ok, then just a regular old campfire?”
Another tingle.
My Reply is No
Fuck. “Fuuuckk, is someone’s house on fire? Is that who’s going to die?”
Yes
Stiles took off. His eyes focused on the ground in front of him, so he didn’t trip over anything. Miraculously, the roots seemed to dive back into the ground as he came near. It was very, very strange but he took a note and then pushed that note in the back of his brain to study later.
With the scent of burning getting stronger, Stiles slowed down a little. He knew he probably didn’t have a lot of time, but the Magic he felt in him was warning him to be cautious. He wasn’t being guided here for a natural fire as there had been some in the past and all he had to do then was wait safely in his house.
Stiles’s Magic was right. He stopped at the edge of a clearing, looking out at a large house that in the back of his mind remembered as being the Hale House. Hale—as in the werewolf family. Werewolves with their super hearing and wolfy senses and super healing that would in no way still be in the burning building if there wasn’t a reason.
“Shit. Are they still in there?”
Without A Doubt
“They are trapped in there. Aw Fuck. Someone did that to them?”
Most Likely
“Shit Shit Shit!” He looked around, “Is that person still here?”
Signs Point To Yes
“You got me involved in hunters?!” Because there was no way a normal person knew how to trap werewolves. Stiles kept a wary gaze around him as headed to the house. He knew hunters would kill him in a heartbeat if they knew what he was, whatever he was. And he knew that they most definitely would kill him now, even if they thought he was some random do-gooder out for a midnight stroll; the way they were trying to kill the Hales was proof enough.
Stiles wracked his brain, trying to figure out how exactly these hunters trapped the werewolves. There were a couple ways he could think off but stopped guessing when he saw the dark line of thick ash going around both corners of the house. It was a couple of inches from the house itself and immediately Stiles called out to it.
Mountain Ash responded to his Magic like a puppy running back to its owner. The line was broken with barely any effort and Stiles moved closer to the basement window. The glass was shattered from the heat, and the teenager got down on his knees to look inside.
There were people inside. One of which saw Stiles through the smoke pouring out of the window. The man gave a weak growl and flashed golden eyes at him.
“Listen I don’t have much time, I’m here to help! I broke the line, but the person who did this is still here. You can get everyone out, I’ll distract them, okay? Take my hand. I promise I’m here to help!” On a whim, Stiles held out his hand to the man. It took a second, but an ash covered hand grabbed his and Stiles pushed.
Warm magic flowed through him and into the man grabbing his hand. Stiles had never done this before but knew he could do it anyways, much like how he knew the Mountain Ash would respond to his call. The lessons with Croaker might be paying off. The werewolf’s grip on his hand grew stronger and he looked like he was breathing easier too. God, did they somehow put wolfsbane in the air too? But there wasn’t time for that.
Stiles shook off the man’s hand, “Get them out; my Magic should have you at full strength—like full moon strength, ok? I got to go deal with the hunter.”
The werewolf growled, his eyes flashing gold but had a ring of red on the outside. Great, another thing to think about later. The man turned around, running to the nearest person. Which turned out to be, oh god, a fucking kid. Hunters really were monsters.
Stiles felt his magic swirling in him, more active than it had been for most of his life. He creeped to the corner of the house that led to the front and peaked around it. He saw a woman, dressed in skimpy clothes and holding a gun in a relaxed grip. She was leaning back on a tree whose leaves were shaking more than they should be in the wind; not that she noticed, as her gaze was on the burning house and a twisted smirk graced thin lips. Stiles could see even from far away she was ecstatic at the sight of the burning house.
The Magic 8 Ball zapped his hand, as he had picked it back up after lending some power to the werewolf in the basement.
“What the fuck? I know I didn’t say anything this time!” Stiles whisper yelled at the ball, careful not to let the crazy lady with a gun hear him.
The ball did not like being ignored. After another zap, Stiles lifted it up to see what the die wanted to say to him now. Now, Stiles knew that this was just a regular ball when his dad got it for him. It had blue liquid and had the normal 20-sided die in it. Stiles hadn’t changed it or done anything to it but he had never seen this before.
Instead of blue, the liquid was red, and it showed a side he had never seen before.
Kill The Bitch
Which, you know, Stiles was all for. When a real Magic-Magic 8 ball says something, you should do it, moral compasses be damned. There was one small, itsy-bitsy, teensy-weensy problem with it.
“How am I supposed to do that?! She has a gun! A gun! I am 147 pounds of pale skin and fragile bones! Sarcasm is my only defense! I’m not bulletproof! I don’t even have my bat because this sure wasn’t on my list of things to do today!” Stiles ranted to the Magic Ball, running a hand through sweaty hair.
Another zap. “You zap me one more time and I’m throwing you at her head!” But he still looked down to read it. The color was still red and the message was short.
Magic
Which was now an option, apparently. He had gone his whole life just reading the future, asking the right questions, and feeling magic flow through him but had never actively called upon it to do things. Sure, he had tried out the whole Matilda act, but it didn’t actually work for him when he was seven. He had just known he was Magic and wanted a way to show it when he was seven.
“Oh, okay. Magic. Sure. Let’s Harry Potter this. If he can defeat an evil wizard that split his soul, I can kill one single crazy lady with a gun. Let’s not mention that he at least went to school for a little while. What did I get instead of a letter and a wand, a Magic 8 Ball which only answers yes or no questions. Yeah, you can now sometimes give me real answers but that still not helpful in the whole offensive situation.” Stiles ranted again, muttering under his breath.
Just then the puppy-like Mountain Ash wiggled its way up his body like a snake and snuggled itself against his cheek. The leaves on the tree Crazy Lady was leaning against shook angrily, like it was mad Stiles was ignoring him too.
Well, alright then, he could work with that. On his command the ash slithered its way toward her, unseen in the dark and quiet under the sound of roaring flames. Stiles closed his eyes, willing his magic in a way he had never done before. The tree gave what was almost like a warm welcome and together they dragged the roots closer to the surface. Right when the ash was a few feet away, all three of them pounced.
Ash flew upwards, binding her wrists together so tightly she yelped in pain and dropped her gun. Stiles and the tree had roots bursting from the ground, winding around her legs and forcing her off balance to the ground. Which did not help her one bit as more roots crawled over her. She was trapped, roots strapping her down from neck down to dirt underneath.
Okay so maybe it wasn’t exactly Harry Potter style, more like Lord of the Rings: Ent Style. Either way, Crazy Lady was down for the count and not getting up again.
She wasn’t dead. But she would be soon if Stiles and the tree decided to squeeze tighter. If she kept spiting curses and derogatory names, along with calling him a coward for not showing his face, it would be sooner rather than later that she would see her ancestors in Hell. He assumed most of them went down the escalator instead of up the stairs.
Stiles looked down, “Is she the only one here? I don’t need back up coming in with a saw to the rescue.” The answer he got was back to the normal blue die.
Outlook Good
Which was good enough for him. “So, there were others involved but not here right now. Probably not even hunters then, not if they left her alone.”
With that over with Stiles turned around to see most of the werewolf family out of the basement. Running the numbers in his head, he saw seven people unconscious or coughing out in the grass. He turned back to the house that was still on fire.
“Can I do something about that?”
Most likely
That was a yes in his books. He closed his eyes, Magic swelling all around him. He felt the flames greet him with a crackling hello. Nicely, he asked for them to go out. They denied. Fire wanted to burn, it was destruction, and it was rebirth. What would burn down would be rebuilt. Stiles frowned. Yes, but the people still inside would burn too. They could not be rebuilt. They would be permanent destruction, with no chance of rebirth. The fire wilted, while it didn’t want to go out, it would slow down, avoid the area people were in. It wasn’t the greatest option, but it would do.
With that agreement, the flame crawled away from the basement and the floor directly above it. Stiles nodded, thanking it.
The teenager walked toward the people still unconscious which earned him many weak cough cutoff growls from the ones that were awake. He raised his hands, showing he meant no harm to the human part of the wolf pack.
He looked at the most conscious one, “I can help, I have Magic that can sooth their lungs from the smoke and wolfsbane that was in the air. I already helped the one getting everyone out and the hunter who threatened your pack is currently out of the picture.” His heartbeat was steady, not showing a lie but it was fast, but it was always like that for him.
The man, around his fathers age, studied him before nodding. He could smell the magic and could hear no studders in his heart that would indicate the kid was lying to him.
Crouching down, Stiles put his Magic ball down to put his hand over the little girl’s forehead and heart. It was beating, dangerously slow, but beating. Doing the same thing he did to the werewolf, but more carefully this time to not overflow, he pushed his magic into her. His intent to heal, to soothe, to wake up worked. Stiles could feel her lungs healing with every second. After a minute the girl stirred, eyes fluttering and coughing a bit. Deciding that was enough, he scooped up his Magic 8 ball, and moved on to the next one, and the next one after that.
He could hear crying and relieved soothing words as he worked on the last one that was human, as the others were werewolves and already healing and coughing out the wolfsbane in their lungs. By the time he was done, all of them were out of the house and in some form of recovery. Which was great. Fantastic really. But he was not looking forward to the interrogation he knew was coming for him.
So he gathered himself, now a little worn out and headed off in the direction of Crazy Lady. Luckily, even without his magic the roots holding her were still there. She was turning slightly blue from how tight they were squeezing her, so he tutted at the tree. Stiles knew the Pack behind him would have questions for her too. The tree whined and relaxed just enough for her to breathe.
Speaking of the pack, he could hear and sense one of the wolves coming up behind him. Wolves can be completely silent, so he appreciates the thought of them making noise to warn Stiles of his approach.
“Who are you?” The voice was gravelly, but Stiles couldn’t tell if that was from inhaling the smoke or if was natural. Turning around had him looking into the eyes of the wolf he helped in the basement. The gravel was natural then, as Stiles’s Magic had healed him even when he stayed inside the burning house to get his family out.
Now that this wasn’t a life and death scenario, he could see that he was a couple years older than him. “My name is Stiles.”
That gravelly voice practically purred his name, “Stiles.” Blue eyes looked at him up and down, a single eyebrow raised at the kids’ toy in hand. Stiles felt his ears pinken, whether it was the heat in those eyes or the fact the man was skeptical of the thing that saved their lives was up in the air. “My name is Peter Hale.”
Ah, the Left Hand of the Hale Pack. He had heard about him. Mostly that he was a narcissist asshole who would and could kill you in a heartbeat if he or his Alpha was inclined to do.
“I would say it was nice to meet you but it’s not.” He paused. “Not that it’s not nice to meet you! It just, uh, not nice at this moment? Like I’d I rather not have meet under these circumstances.” Oh god, the heat rushed to his cheeks, and he flailed a bit. This is why he didn’t really interact with people who didn’t already know him.
Peter Hale, the Peter Hale, released what sounded like a small laugh. “I understand, sweetheart.” He looked down and behind Stiles, his eyes flashing that beautiful gold.
The red ring had faded away it seemed along with Stiles’s Magic, now that it had felt like it had finished doing the job it was supposed to. Which was good. He didn’t need the Alpha Hale on his ass because he accidently made her Left Hand an Alpha.
Growling out his words, “Is this the hunter that tried to kill my pack?”
Crazy Lady was silent, maybe because the roots had suffocated her until she wasn’t awake to spew out her bullshit.
Stiles nodded, “She was watching your house burn. And enjoying it. Like, who does that? There were kids there! But I kept her alive if you guys needed to her ask her questions. I can kill her though. No questions from me. Do it in a heartbeat. She needs to die anyways. Psychopath who enjoys killing people. Gross. It’s a no for me.” Oh my God, Stiles shut up.
Peter’s lips twitched up and “We will have questions for her. And for you, Sweetheart.” Peter switched his gaze back to Stiles. “First one being: How did you know?”
Which, Stiles admitted, was a good question. He bit his lip, which drew Peter’s eyes although Stiles didn’t notice with the thoughts racing through his head. Be honest and say a kids toy brought him out here or say he was a do-gooder out for a night stroll? The first option would bring more questions, but the second option would be revealed as a lie as soon as he said the words. Damn hot werewolves and their stupid good hearing.
He shifted on his feet, the first option it is. Might as well be honest than be caught lying. “I—”
“Peter!” A female voice called, well more like commanded. Ordered? It had some form of authority to it and Stiles was glad to get away from answering the question for now. Saved by the bell—or voice.
The owner of said voice approached with stomping feet. Glaring at Peter, she turned to Stiles with a polite but he guessed sincere smile. “I was just informed that you were the one who saved my Pack. The Hale Pack is in your debt.” Stiles just nodded and Talia Hale looked down at Crazy Lady. “The hunter.” It wasn’t a question, but Stiles agreed anyways.
“Yes, Hale Alpha, she was watching it burn.” Stiles nudged the woman covered in roots with his foot. “She’s alive for now. I left her for you guys to question but she needs to be dead by—hold on—” He cut himself off. Might as well prove that the Magic 8 Ball was really Magic, “By tonight?”
The answer was in red again.
Three Hours
“I would say in less than three hours. I assume that means her calvary is coming or going to know she is gone by then.”
Both Hales looked at him like he was crazy. Stiles shrugged, they either would believe him or wouldn’t. It didn’t really matter. He wasn’t going to deny Magic just because they thought he was a lunatic. Crazy Lady would be dead in three hours no matter what they decided, by their hands or his.