Chapter Text
“Have the report on my desk by tomorrow morning,” Stiles heard his Dad saying from the hall. “We’ll look into it then. I’ll drop by the coroner’s on my way.”
Stiles was shrugged none-too-gently by a scowling Lydia. “Concentrate, Stiles.”
“Sorry,” Stiles muttered as he went back to the runes he was writing down on the table. When he finished, he reached inside his spark and the series of runes he had been writing down started glowing.
“That’s good,” Lydia said, checking the thick book in front of her. She sounded less than impressed.
“Of course it’s good,” Stiles scowled. “I’ve been doing this for a year now. I can do it in my sleep.”
“Calm down, you two,” Derek said, stepping between them.
Lydia glared at him. “Shut up and finish it, Stilinski.”
“Why don’t you try doing it if you’re so impatient?” Stiles bit back.
“Woah, simmer down, kids,” his Dad said walking inside the library.
“Jet lag is not doing wonders for you two,” Derek said, stroking Stiles’ arm.
Stiles sighed, trying to calm himself. He nodded to Lydia who pulled out a lighter and burned the paper of runes. Stiles pulled out a small dagger and a vial from his belt bag. Once the entire paper was burnt and the fire died out, Stiles swept the ashes into the vial. He then brought the dagger to the meat of his palm, making it bleed. He saw Derek twitch somewhat unconsciously. He knew Derek’s wolf hated him getting hurt in any way, even if it was on purpose.
His Dad hovered over his shoulder curiously as Stiles placed a few droplets inside the vial along with the ashes.
“Any thoughts?” Stiles asked, smiling.
“Um.” His Dad’s face scrunched up in thought. “Deaton is gonna use this spell thing which he can’t do because he isn’t a sparker like you. So you give him your blood?”
“Got it in one, Dad,” Stiles said, laughing when his Dad puffed proudly. His Dad had been insistent on learning all the magical stuff he could and Stiles liked it when his Dad was on the same page as he was.
Stiles wiped his bloody palm on his jeans. By then his spark had already healed the cut anyway. “Deaton’s not a sparker and he has his own brand of magic. My blood will make sure it works for him.”
“Stiles, come on,” Lydia said, sighing and rubbing her neck. “We have five more to do and I want to sleep.”
“Just a bit more,” Derek said, rubbing her arm comfortingly. Lydia nodded to her Alpha.
Stiles nodded and got to work, drawing more runes. Lydia checked each rune meticulously even though Stiles knew that she knew he drew them perfectly. But it was better safe than sorry. After making six different spells and bottling them up with his blood, they were nearly done. He lined the bottles and Lydia drew a circle of chalk around them.
“Ok, step back,” Stiles said.
Stiles held both palms out, summoning his spark to his fingers. His hands glowed green and he vaguely heard Derek sniff the air. Since the magic of spark users, or sparkers, originated internally, their magic had a unique scent. Derek and Scott mentioned on separate occasions that Stiles’ spark smelled like a more electric-y version of his natural scent.
“Tirida hinie teve sotor.”
There was a rush of wind through the open windows and Stiles could see the orange-y sheen of a barrier surrounding the bottles. It disappeared after a few seconds and when Stiles looked at the bottles, the ashes and blood were gone and all that’s left was colored smoke.
“Perfect,” Stiles said, satisfied.
“I still get goosebumps when I see you do that, kid,” his Dad said, walking over to sling an arm around his shoulders. “The good kind though.”
Stiles smiled, settling against his Dad. It had taken a few years but he was glad he and his Dad had gotten to this point, where his Dad knew everything and was more than accepting of the pack, Stiles’ role as pack emissary, and his new stint as a sparker. Oh, and being Derek’s mate, too.
Lydia let out a delicate snort as she started packing way. “This is a pretty nice way to start our first day back at Beacon Hills.”
Stiles wrapped an arm around her. “Think of it like this: at least it’s not like the redcap last spring.”
“Or the wendigo last Thanksgiving,” John spoke up.
“Or the sirens last Valentine’s,” Derek added.
Lydia let out a breath. “Ok. Point taken. Doing spellwork is actually pretty tame.” She sighed, stretching out and drooping against Stiles.
“Once the entire pack’s here and slept off the jet lag, we’ll all be right as rain,” Stile said. “Hopefully we can actually enjoy summer vacation without the supernatural nipping at our heels.”
Derek packed the vials away. “Thank you,” he said, kissing Stiles’ cheek and touching the back of Lydia’s neck.
“What time is everyone else coming in?” Stiles heard his Dad ask Derek as he herded Stiles and Lydia to the living room. “We already have the Stanford kids back home, which is surprising.”
Stiles agreed. While Stanford wasn’t as far compared to where the others were coming from, Stiles and Lydia were usually last to come in due to all the homework they got saddled with. They both already have plans to take a Masters afterwards and that was a lot of years to be away from the pack. They were determined to graduate a semester, or even a year, early to shave off the many years.
Jackson and Danny attend university at Boston, the former at BU and the latter at MIT. They couldn’t get in an earlier flight and were arriving later tonight. Allison was at UChicago, which was both her parents’ alma maters. Chris already flew over there three days ago and the father-daughter decided to take a road trip on the way back. They were due in a couple of hours. The rest of the pack, Scott, Isaac, Boyd, and Erica, all attend UCLA. Boyd and Isaac had had some last minute work to finish and all of them decided to just drive home tomorrow early morning.
Stiles looked at the pictures hanging on the wall as they walked down the hall, dragging along a half-asleep Lydia. The Hale house had become their home, with its wrap-around porch, two floors full of rooms for the pack, an attic, a humongous garage, and a sprawling lawn, and Stiles was always happy to be back home.
Stiles heard his father’s low chuckle. “It’s a nice change of pace to see these two home first.”
“I agree,” Derek said.
Stiles let out a squeak of delight upon seeing that Derek had already set out one of the large mattress they used for pack sleepovers. Derek helped Lydia toe off her heels and told her to loosen up her belt before letting her curl up.
“Love you, Dad,” he said and nosedived right in beside Lydia.
“Love you, kid,” his Dad said. “Be seeing you, Derek.”
“See you later, Sheriff,” Derek said.
Stiles hummed appreciatively as Derek took off his shoes and socks and his beltbag. “You’re awesome. I love you. We can have sex later when I’m awake enough to participate.”
Derek chuckled. “I love you too. Get some sleep. I’ll lock up and be back in an hour or so after I deliver these to Deaton and dropped by Dara’s place.”
Stiles felt Derek kiss his temple and then nuzzled at his neck for a while before he fell asleep.
When Stiles woke up hours later, Lydia was still asleep beside him and when he checked the clock on the wall, it was a quarter to five. He’d been asleep for two hours.
Stiles yawned, stretching his arms. He stood up and made his way to the kitchen. Melissa and his father were still at work. Chris and Allison wouldn’t be here until seven and Jackson and Danny weren’t due home until around midnight. Derek was probably in the house somewhere but the kitchen was empty and it looked like dinner wasn’t prepared yet.
“Derek?” he called out. He jogged up to the master bedroom, peeking in.
Stiles shrugged. Dara probably kept him.
Dara Danner was one of the sparkers that trained Stiles through the past years. She was a ‘friend’ of Deaton’s, even though everyone was pretty sure there was something going on there. The werewolves said they never smelled anything odd, but everyone was still keeping their eyes, ears, and noses peeled for signs.
It wasn’t unusual for Dara to keep Derek for an hour or two. She traveled a lot so she had acquaintances all over the country she did spell jobs for. She and Derek usually talked about some of the creatures she met.
Stiles shrugged. It was too early to make dinner and while he was still trying to shake off the jet lag, he was a bit too wired to sleep. So he grabbed his jacket and sneakers and decided to take a walk.
The forest was comforting to Stiles and he could feel his spark sizzle whenever he touched the trees. Trees were among the most magical entities there is, thrumming with the pure energy of the earth and were a representation of the cycle of life and growth. Magic users always gravitate to sources of energy like these and Stiles was more than glad to live with the forest literally at his backyard.
Stiles hummed tunelessly under his breath as he walked. He was in Hale property and there were more than a few runes, spells, and traps the pack set up so he knew he was safe.
There was a shimmer in the air and Stiles turned to where he felt it. A shadowy figure was weaving between the trees a few yards away. The figure was covered completely in black that even a black band was covering the eyes. It wasn’t unusual for some random people or supernatural creatures to accidentally end up in Hale territory so he didn’t immediately start the threats.
“Excuse me?” Stiles called out, jogging towards the figure.
The figure whipped around.
“Hey there. This is private property. Are you lost?” Stiles called out, waving a hand.
The next thing he knew he was letting out a yelp as a dagger came flying at him, clipping him on the arm but not injuring him. Thank god for his jacket.
“Well, ok then.” Stiles gritted his teeth as the figure ran.
Stiles ran after him, ducking between trees when the figure threw some more daggers at him.
Stiles summoned his spark.
“Sem cevosi!”
Stiles felt his energy burst out of him, directing it right at his target. The figure seemed to anticipate it, ducking behind a tree. The tree shook when the rush of energy hit it. Stiles heaved a breath and ran faster. His target ducked out of the trees and ran.
“Sem cevosi!”
The energy pulsed through the air a second time. It managed to knock his target off its feet. Stiles pushed himself and ran. Without a moment’s hesitation, he pounced.
The other person was smaller than him but strong. He managed to push Stiles off, knocking him on the face with an elbow. Stiles held on, not letting go. They rolled around the floor, the figure grunting and huffing and Stiles cursing a mile a minute. Stiles managed to grab a wrist and pulled hard. The figure grunted and swung his other arm, catching Stiles on the side of the face.
Suddenly there was a howl off in the distance.
Derek had spent many an afternoon teaching everyone, even the Pack parents, on how to recognize howls. Everyone now knew the basics, such as how to recognize a howl for help and how to make the trademark Pack howl. Stiles had taken it a step farther. He was actually a tad versed in how to recognize each wolf’s particular howl.
Even if he didn’t already know Derek was the only werewolf around, he knew that was definitely Derek’s howl.
Stiles dug in harder. He just had to hold on. Derek would easily find him.
They exchanged a few punches and Stiles managed to direct most of it to the person’s torso. The other person was squirming though and hard to get a hold of. And Stiles couldn’t get enough of a breather to mutter a binding spell as the other tried to get to his face. There was a tearing sound as Stiles tugged on something. The figure suddenly kicked him on the stomach and Stiles was pushed back. He managed to grab an ankle but had to let go when a kick was aimed at his face. Stiles tried to grab more of his target only to freeze when he felt something painful hit his shoulder. The figure stumbled back.
Suddenly there was a flash of light. By the time Stiles got his vision right, the person was gone.
“SHIT!” Stiles slammed a fist against the ground. The motion jarred his entire arm and Stiles winced. He could see the dagger embedded in the meat of his shoulder.
Stiles struggled to sit up. He pulled out the dagger, and pressed a hand to his bleeding shoulder. “Aww, fuck. Derek’s not gonna like this. And Dad. And Melissa. And Scott.”
He sat there for a moment, chest heaving, body aching, and his shoulder bleeding. He tried to catalogue his injuries, dagger to the shoulder, probably a litany of bruises across his face, scratches along his arms, and an aching torso.
Stiles reached into his spark, using it to get his body to start healing a little.
“Stiles!”
Lydia.
Stiles reared back and howled, something to make it easier for them to find him. He let out a relieved sigh when Derek howled back.
Stiles looked down at his shoulder. It was already half-healed, but it seemed that was all it was going to be able to do for now. The runes he made earlier had sapped his energy and his nap earlier hadn’t been able to recharge him much.
That was when Stiles saw it.
A little black notebook half-hidden under a shred of cloth.
It was from earlier.
Stiles picked it up just as Derek came bounding in through the woods.
Two years ago, an earthquake hit Starling City and leveled the Glades, the city’s poorest district. The incident resulted in hundreds of lives lost and it was only now that the city was starting to get back on its feet.
In the past years, Oliver Queen, billionaire and now CEO of Queen Consolidated has been nothing but busy. It had taken hard work, blood, and sweat to return his company to its former glory and atone for his family’s involvement in the disaster that hit the Glades. While Queen Consolidated wasn’t as powerful now as it was before, he had done enough groundwork to keep Queen slowly but surely rising to power and keeping its many employees and their jobs intact. Oliver also tried to make amends to the city that the death threats he was sent had now withered down to three times a week at the most.
All in all, it was an improvement.
By day, Oliver was still running the company as best as he could with the help of his younger sister Thea and an army of advisors that included his ex-stepfather, Walter. At night, he was still protecting the streets of Starling City as vigilante-turned-hero The Arrow, and right beside him was his team, Diggle and Felicity.
Felicity was at his ear, blabbing as she always did. Oliver had gotten used to it in the past years and he was actually more worried whenever he didn’t have the blonde’s running commentary in his ear.
“–turn right at the end. I’m halfway through cracking the code to get you in. There are no cameras inside, so be careful. I have the pinhole cam on your suit activated though so I’m still with you.”
“Thanks, Felicity,” Oliver said as he pulled his trademark green hood further over his face and crept as silently as he could down the hall, his trusty bow in hand. He reached the door and saw the red light turn green with a click.
As soon as he pushed open the door, he had to close it as it started raining bullets.
There was a squeak in his ear. “Didn’t I tell you to be careful?!”
Oliver growled under his breath. The second the gunshots stopped, Oliver darted out for a second and let loose an arrow. It hit someone on the arm. He waited for another pause in the gunfire before letting loose another arrow and darting behind a crate he had seen inside the room. At his ear, Felicity’s breathing and small gasps were a constant background noise.
Oliver gritted his teeth at the continuous rain of gunfire. He looked up and saw a green blinking light. He pressed a button on his suit and flashed a green light back.
“I got Dig on sight, Felicity,” Oliver said.
“Got it. Be careful.”
Diggle had infiltrated the group a day prior to gather intel and prepare for the Arrow’s visit to the group and because of that he didn’t have a communicator on him. The team had gotten a tip from Roy about a group of shifty-eyed individuals sneaking in crates of weapons at a downtown warehouse. Roy managed to get a handful of bullets and deliver it to the Arrow, but Felicity for all her skills, was having a bit of trouble finding information about them. Not at all.
Oliver reared up and let loose two arrows, hitting one in the shoulder and another on the leg. He crouched down and started sneaking behind the crates. Above him, Diggle provided cover through a sniper rifle.
Oliver fired off an arrow at someone’s side. His eyes widened when he realized that the person he hit was the same one who had an arrow to the shoulder. In fact, it was still there. “Why the hell–” He ducked. He sent a few blinks of green light at Diggle and Diggle started firing.
Oliver leapt over the crate he was hiding behind as some of the bad guys pounced on him. He sent two sprawling with a few well-placed punches and a swipe of his bow. Thank god Felicity made him a better and sturdier one. He let out a grunt as someone barreled into him. He knocked him out with a head butt and a bullet from Diggle to his knee. Oliver gaped when he realized this one already had an arrow in his arm.
Oliver noticed that even the ones he had tried knocking out were already standing back up. Two against seven baddies who wouldn’t stay down. Oliver didn’t like those odds.
“What is going on?!” Felicity asked, voice edging on panicked. Oliver could hear her typing furiously. “Why are they not staying down?! Are you hitting them right?! Well, not that there’s a wrong way to hit someone but oh my god! He already had an arrow in his shoulder! And bullets to the knee!”
Oliver jumped up, grabbing an overhanging pipe and sent a kick to one’s head. He heard a sickening crack as the male stumbled back.
Felicity was continuing on. “Oh my god! Are we dealing with zombies?!”
Diggle had jumped down from his perch overhead and helped Oliver beat down a couple of the bad guys. For some reason they just keep getting up, complete with arrows and bullets already in them. One of them lunged at Oliver, knocking the archer on his back. Diggle had to incapacitate him with a fierce punch to the jaw.
“Ok, something weird is seriously going down here!” Diggle shouted as they took cover behind a crate.
Oliver took a breath as he adjusted his quiver on his back. He grabbed an extra communicator and handed it to Diggle. He placed it in his ear and tuned in right at the middle of Felicity’s rant.
“–will freak at the idea of the undead! I mean seriously!”
Oliver closed his eyes for a moment as a hunch formed in his head. Dear god, let it not be true. He reached behind him and pressed a button at the side of his quiver. He heard a hiss.
Suddenly, there was a loud roar.
“Holy shit! / Oh my god!” Diggle and Felicity exclaimed.
“Diggle, Felicity, calm down. They probably smelled the wolfsbane,” Oliver said, forceful and serious.
“The what?” Both Diggle and Felicity shouted.
“Diggle, regular bullets won’t work but make sure to hit them on the head. Leave the rest to me.”
“We’re killing them? / What did you say?” Diggle and Felicity asked, shocked.
Oliver was resolute. Questions could come later. “Felicity, access my phone. Get a call to Isis Lesedi. Tell them Oliver Queen is asking for a cleanup crew. Tell them everything. Now.”
“What’s going on?!” Felicity asked.
Oliver winced. “You wouldn’t believe me if I tell you but–”
Oliver and Diggle jumped back as something large leaped on top of the crates. The male was crouching low and his eyes were glowing yellow.
“Oh my god! Are those fangs?!” Diggle shouted. He shot it on the forehead.
Oliver wasn’t surprised when the man only shook his head, the bullet falling out within seconds and the wound already closing up. He let loose an arrow, hitting it on at the same spot. That time, it managed to stay down, clawing at its face to get at the wolfsbane-laced arrowhead.
“–but they’re werewolves.”
Stiles was on the couch, safe and curled up in Derek’s lap. Lydia was in the kitchen, getting them all drinks. He knew she was ratting him out to his Dad now, and probably Melissa. Stiles didn’t bother throwing a fit and he knew Derek had no plans of stopping Lydia. This was some surprise after their first day back at home.
Stiles shifted in Derek’s lap, wincing when his shoulder was jarred. He was already cleaned up and there weren’t any serious damages but Derek was not at all pleased at his bleeding shoulder and the bruises already starting to form on his face and torso. But there was nothing they could do about it.
Derek, who was attuned to Stiles’ heartbeat through their mate’s bond, had felt his distress and ran out on Dara to find him. Lydia had woken up when her banshee senses felt someone attack Stiles and came running, toting Stiles’ baseball bat. There wasn’t much they could do though because the scent trail stopped where they were standing. And Lydia couldn’t sense anything else. Derek couldn’t get a scent from the cloth Stiles ripped off the dude. It smelled like dirty earth, not a person’s scent. It was a dead-end.
Lydia walked into the room carrying two mugs of drinks. She handed them their mugs and Stiles sagged deeper into Derek’s lap at the first taste of coffee. He caught the scent of alcohol lacing Derek’s drink and gave Lydia a thankful look. It wasn’t going to affect him but it would give him a small buzz. Derek was still shaking a bit.
“You ok?” Lydia asked, tilting Stiles’ chin up and wincing at the bruises.
“Yeah,” Stiles said. He reached up, patting her shoulder comfortingly. “Lyds, I’m fine. And Derek’s sure as hell going to coddle me to death. Get some rest for a bit then we can figure this out.”
Lydia nodded, looking apologetic but also dead on her feet. She leaned over to nuzzle Derek, the Alpha curling a hand around her neck, and then folded herself into the loveseat with a blanket. She was asleep within seconds.
Stiles looked up at Derek, noting his frown, and leaned up, kissing him on the mouth. Derek immediately melted into him, and Stiles tried to appease him. That he was safe and warm in his arms and there was nothing to worry about. He coaxed Derek into stroking his neck, something to appease the wolf. And let Derek lick into his mouth, greedy and rough. When he pulled back gently, he kept close, nipping at Derek’s lips.
“I can hear you thinking,” Stiles said softly. “Sorry. I didn’t expect that at all.”
“It’s ok.” Derek sighed. “It could have been worse.” He tucked his face into Stiles’ neck, breathing him in.
“I could have used a binding spell or something,” Stiles said, fuming at himself.
He was a sparker and his magic originated internally so other than using his fists he was in no short supply of a way to defend himself when without a weapon. Stiles knew he was good at casting almost any kind of spell but he wasn’t good at non-verbal spellcasting.
“Do you have any idea what that could be?” Derek asked.
Stiles shook his head. “I can’t be sure. And my brain isn’t really up to par at the moment.” He winced.
The phone suddenly rang.
“Probably Dara,” Derek said, gently extracting himself from Stiles. “I’ll be quick.”
“Tell her about this, would you?” Stiles said, already fishing the notebook he found out from the side table. “The flash of light, the dagger, and the thing with the all black.”
Derek nodded and grabbed the ringing phone before it woke up Lydia.
Stiles started inspecting his find. It looked like a journal, worn black leather and brown pages. There was a number on the back, a three. Stiles frowned at it. He opened it and it looked about a third of the way filled.
Stiles looked at what was written down, but he was so tired he couldn’t really understand it. He scanned the pages. There were drawings on it and notes and numbers. There were about three pages that looked like it was filled with equations of some sort. Stiles sighed, letting the pages flip around. He was too tired to look at this.
He landed on a random page. There were words written on it, but one was underlined pretty heavily.
Markov.
Stiles squinted at it.
Markov?
Stiles felt something niggling at his brain as he stared at the page. He knew this name. He bit his thumbnail in thought as he went back at the pages, trying to understand what he was reading, trying to find the bigger picture hidden under all these messed up words.
He ran his hands through his hair.
Think. Think. Think.
“Stiles?” Derek called out, looking in from the hall.
Stiles was deep in thought, scanning the pages.
He landed on a word. Unidac.
Unidac. Markov.
Stiles scrambled up, grabbing the tablet from Lydia’s bag on the coffee table. He accessed the Internet, planning to pull up all his databases but it didn’t take much to find out.
Unidac Industries was once a subsidiary of Queen Consolidated until it was dissolved following its creation of the…
The Markov seismic device.
It was like a flipbook in Stiles’ brain.
The Starling City earthquake two years ago.
It was on the news all over the country, the world even. The one that killed hundreds of people in the Glades, the most underprivileged section of the city. It was revealed that the earthquake was caused by a seismic device. Stiles and his Dad had followed the news on TV years ago, shocked that such a thing was possible.
“Stiles? What’s wrong?” Derek asked, approaching but not stopping him. He was used to Stiles’ sudden erratic bursts of ideas.
Stiles scanned the pages again, looking closer at the drawings. Now that his brain was working, he could see what they were: a circuit board, a trigger, a clamp mechanism, a transmitter.
They were parts of a device.
Stiles felt his stomach drop in realization.
“Holy shit.”