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The very second Mieczyslaw “Stiles” Stilinski re-opened his eyes on that damp grassy verge was the exact moment that the Nemeton shuddered in fear. A terrible sense of foreboding travelling out from the magical tree's very core, as the delicate scales of Good and Evil dipped completely off-balance. A few seconds of deadly silence followed the ancient tree's shiver, where nothing, not even the chirping of a cricket or the soft hooting of an owl could be heard throughout the preserve.... and then the stump began to glow. Angry red lines appearing rapidly where the growth rings were located on the bark, the light bubbling forth like fresh blood from a wound and illuminating the clearing with an eerie red hue.
Glow growing steadily brighter, the Nemeton began to emit a strange noise - almost like a low vibrating hum - which permeated the air like a warning. Prey animals proceeded to scatter like wildfire in response to the sound, choosing immediately to hide away in their little nests and burrows lest they encounter the threat their minds couldn't truly comprehend. And as the sound spread across the preserve like a beacon, even the predators prowling the darkness slunk off to their dens in search of safety.
Meanwhile, miles away from the Nemeton and its dense surrounding forestry, the sleeping forms of two individuals awoke drenched in a cold sweat. The hairs on the nape of their necks standing on end as their hearts thumped wildly in their chests, an overwhelming sense of dread washing over their bodies like a tidal wave. Rubbing a tired hand across his face Dr Alan Deaton sighed heavily, a weary sadness seeping into his very core as realisation dawned on him.
"Oh Stiles, what have you done"
No sooner had the whispered words fell from his lips a shrill ringing sound erupted drawing the older man's attention to the phone lying innocently on the nightstand. The rectangular screen lit up as a name flashed rhythmically with the ringtone. Large white letters glaring at Deaton with menacing promise.
MARIN
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The sand was soft and warm underneath his feet and Stiles couldn’t help but let his toes bury themselves into the tiny golden grains. Closing his eyes he inhaled deeply, the smell of salt water tickling his nose as the calming sound of soft waves lapping at the shore echoed in his ears. He wished he could stay there forever, in that moment where no fear existed, no pain or betrayal- just him and complete serenity.
Eyes fluttering open as a flock of birds soared across the cloudless blue sky overhead, Stiles nearly leaped out of his skin when laughter erupted in the distance, its deep and familiar tone catching his attention and shattering any previous assumptions he held of being blissfully alone. Heart beating fast the teen turned to the right, wide brown eyes snapping towards a group of figures sitting on the sand less than half a mile down the beach.
Squinting a little against the bright sunlight Stiles could make out three forms in total, a man, a woman and a young child, the unmistakable shape of a wicker picnic basket nestled between them. A niggling sensation developed at the back of the teens brain- like a weird sense of déjà vu- and Stiles scowled briefly as he tried to figure out what was so unnervingly familiar about the scene. Quickly growing frustrated with his brains inability to solve the riddle Stiles almost gave up and turned away; and then the man laughed again, this time followed by a sweeter peal of laughter from the woman. Both adults highly amused as the small boy with messy brown hair and honey coloured eyes declared loudly around two orange objects shoved either side of his mouth like tusks.
“OOK!! IMMA WALRRUSSSH!!”
Oh.
He remembers now. It was one of the rare weekends his dad had free (unfortunately being a new deputy meant an inordinate amount of overtime) and the sun was shining bright so his parents had decided last minute to take him to the beach. One simple decision that resulted in the formation of one of the most precious memories of Stiles’ childhood.
Chest aching something visceral Stiles blinked back tears as the memory played out before him in vivid detail; his dad, young and carefree, reaching forwards to tickle four year old Stiles with sneaky fingers. An action which caused young Stiles to screech excitedly and dodge the attack with a sloppy roll before scrambling to his feet and jetting off down the beach- his dad following behind him with a loud playful roar. He watches as his mother looks on with a fond smile and painfully identical eyes, one hand keeping her favourite wide-brimmed sun hat firmly on her head as the other waves gently to little Stiles- who was now perched on top of his dad's sturdy shoulders, small chubby arms spread wide like an aeroplane.
He was happy back then.
They were happy.
A crack of lightning shatters the tranquility of the memory, a low ominous rumbling of thunder following shortly after. Casting his gaze back out towards the water Stiles frowned as thick rolling clouds bubbled over the horizon; great black masses of smog pulsing and shifting across the sky until more than half of the beautiful blue had disappeared underneath its greedy grasp. Confused and slightly afraid at the new development Stiles took a step back- only for his feet to sink into the sand like wet cement. The darkness was moving closer, a terrible howling wind appearing from nowhere causing the once calm sway of the ocean to turn harsh and unforgiving, large waves slamming against the shore and spraying frothy white saltwater into the air.
Heart stuttering in his chest with panic Stiles struggled against the grip of the sand, a whimper falling from his lips as the frantic movements only served to sink him deeper into its hold.
“Nonononononono”
And there it was again, that familiar feeling of helplessness- like a knife to the gut, a sharp blade twisting his insides around and around until his stomach was where his lungs should be and his intestines felt like they were wrapped around his heart. Fingers clutching desperately at his chest Stiles squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds as he focused on breathing past the overwhelming feeling of being an animal stuck inside a trap.
Powerless
Weak
Scared
The black fog had now reached the shoreline, Stiles realising with a sinking sensation in his gut that there was no way he could outrun it, not with his feet still stuck in the sand.
“Is everything alright sweetheart?”
Neck jerking painfully Stiles turned his head to the right, disbelief colouring his features as his gaze fell upon his mother, wide-brimmed sun hat still perched delicately on top her head despite the raging winds.
“Mom?”
Soft smile appearing at Stiles’ confused croak she stepped forward, a small hand reaching out tentatively across the space between them to cup the side of his face, thumb rubbing back and forth comfortingly over the arch of his cheekbone. Biting back a sob at the soothing motion Stiles nestled his cheek further into his mother's warm palm, bottom lip trembling with the effort of keeping all the emotions inside himself from spilling out like poison.
“But..where’s…” trailing off Stiles flicked his gaze behind her shoulder, brows furrowing at the sight of an empty beach; no sign of his dad or his younger self anywhere across the long stretch of golden sand. Blinking he turned his attention back to his mother who watched him with kind and patient eyes, a stark contrast to the way she looked at him during those last few months of her illness. It made him ache once again for the way things used to be and a lone tear slid its way past his defences, a wet salty trail making it halfway down his cheek before his mother wiped it away.
“It’s okay baby, everything’s going to be okay now”
Despite the clawing want inside of him that demanded he believe her words Stiles shook his head and pursed his lips tightly as more tears started to fall; the dam had broken and there was no stopping the large droplets of water rolling down his face. The walls of his throat threatened to close up and Stiles had to choke the words out before they threatened to be lost forever.
“It’s not okay mom, it’s coming and I can’t…… I can’t stop it. I'm not strong enough”
Cocking her head to the side his mother smiled, a small amused tilt appearing at the edges of her lips as her eyes twinkled with mirth- it was the exact same look she used to give him when he was a child and would do something particularly funny or mischievous.
“You’re so silly sometimes Mieczyslaw, always looking for the most difficult solution to your problems”
Tongue feeling heavy and clumsy in his mouth Stiles frowned in confusion at her words “I don’t…. I don’t understand”. Gaze drifting towards the black mass of darkness now only fifteen feet away from them both, his mother’s comforting hold on his face turned into more of a bruising grip- neatly trimmed nails digging slightly into the flesh of his cheek.
"You don't need to stop it, honey. You need to let it in"
Breath catching in his throat the teen flinched as if the words had physically burned him, ignoring the way his mother’s nails dug a little deeper at his sudden movement.
"No! I can’t!”
Eyeing him in disappointment at his outburst, his mother sighed heavily; an action which caused an automatic flush of shame to burn across Stiles’ cheeks. He felt like a little kid being reprimanded for not brushing his teeth properly and not a seventeen year old who had battled LITERAL monsters and came out victorious. It was embarrassing.
“If you want to save Derek then you need to let it in Stiles”
Heart skipping a few beats at the mention of the Alpha, Stiles felt his hands start to shake, a wave of trepidation crashing down and swallowing him whole. Licking his lips nervously Stiles spoke around the noise of his newly pounding heart “what...what do you mean save Derek?”. He almost didn’t want to hear the answer.. Almost.
Face taking on a sympathetic frown his mother returned to rubbing her thumb across his cheek “he’s dying sweetheart. He’s dying and the only way you can help him is if you let it in”. Panic rising at the thought of Derek dying Stiles flickered his eyes towards the darkness hovering patiently only a few feet away- almost as if waiting for Stiles to give it permission to move forward. Tears began to flow again and Stiles breathed in a deep shuddering breath, acceptance beginning to settle in as he realised that there really was no way out of the situation. He couldn’t let Derek die.
Even if saving him meant giving into the darkness.
Sensing the moment Stiles made his decision his mother relinquished her hold on his face and stepped back, hands clasping together in front of her “I’m proud of you mischief”. Swallowing roughly Stiles gave her a watery smile, tears silently making their way down his cheeks as he turned to face the darkness. Closing his eyes Stiles held out a hand towards the mass of shadows, fingers trembling uncontrollably as they stretched outwards.
A second passed where nothing happened and the teen nearly risked sneaking a peak to see what the hell was going on, and then he felt it. A cold slithering sensation traveling up his arm followed shortly by the feeling of billions of tiny needles piercing his skin. Biting back a yell of pain Stiles crumpled to the sand, body curling protectively in on itself in an attempt at stopping the fire quickly spreading across his entire nervous system. The pain intensified and Stiles gasped out, eyes squeezing tighter shut in response.
The pain seemed to last forever, and then it stopped.