For haled

[sarcasticdefence]

Stiles vanished over the summer break.

He needed space. After the kidnapping, Jackson's death, everything that happened, his dad sent him for a fortnight camp for other troubled kids. He came back a bit more subdued for a while, introspective, and it was only Scott threatening to drag him to the other werewolves for a check over to make sure he wasn't a pod person that picked him up again.

On the night of the new moon, he shaved his head again and packed up a bag, sneaking out through his window and making his way down to the graveyard.

He marked out the compass points in a circle, trailed a small dash of mountain ash to make the ring and carefully set his markers. A smoulder of incense, a dash of water, a feather stuck in the ground quill first and a small rock.

He folded his legs and closed his eyes, letting himself relax.

Comments

[haled]

Derek's summer started with a fruitless search for the few remaining betas he had left. Isaac had stuck around and Peter was there, but Jackson was dead and Erica and Boyd had fled. As much as he wanted to find them to make sure they were okay, he was really hoping that they'd made it far out of the state and found a pack to settle with instead.

At some point, mostly in passing, Isaac had brought up Scott and Stiles in conversation. Something about Stiles acting strange and Scott worrying about him, none of which was really Derek's business or concern. He'd left the two of them alone to let them live how they wanted after everything had been said and done.

He'd planned to keep it that way, but he couldn't shake that slight, nagging feeling that he should at least go by and look in on the two of them. So, that was what he did.

Scott wasn't doing anything unusual. A peek in on him proved that he was making himself something to eat while his mom was at work.

Stiles was a completely different story. Derek didn't actually follow him, but he did track him down after visiting his house and finding no one there. While finding him in a graveyard wasn't that strange in itself, what he saw on closer inspection did strike him as weird.

But Derek didn't move out to make himself known. Instead, he remained in the cluster of trees he'd stopped at and watched from a distance, wondering what Stiles was up to.

[sarcasticdefence]

Stiles still fidgeted. He wasn't capable of not shifting on his butt as he focused, but it was much more still than he normally accomplished on his own.

He could feel the energies simmering and roiling just under the surface. You didn't find 'ghosts' as such in a graveyard, usually. But there was a strong sense of energies clinging to a newly buried body.

He focused, cast out and exhaled, letting the energies of the place pick him up and put him on his feet. She was grief and fear as the emotional energy began to trail from her freshly dug grave towards him.

[haled]

He was confused, to say the least. Derek had a very limited understanding of anything related to magic, even after the fact that his uncle had managed to control another person to essentially bring himself back from the dead.

So, seeing Stiles rise up the way he did seemed odd. The entire situation was odd, though, and Derek was willing to write it off right up until he realized there was something drifting through the air from the grave toward Stiles.

It was barely visible. Like something was just off with the air. But, being a werewolf made things like that easier to pick up, even if he had no idea what the hell it was. The fact that Stiles was the one that had put himself there was the only reason Derek hadn't stepped out to try to get him away from the grave. Whatever was happening was something Stiles seemed to be aiming for and he wanted to see the end result before deciding whether or not to make himself known.

[sarcasticdefence]

With a gesture, Stiles dropped the barrier on the circle, letting her approach and circle him. This was the tricky bit, but he'd had practice in not letting himself explode with the contained energies.

'Ghosts' didn't move. Not unless you gave them a new fetter to cling to.

Like a new body to exist in.

The UV tattoos briefly flared with magic as he called her into him, the energy heavy and clinging like grave dust before they snapped shut and he finally inhaled, briefly alight with power until it was damped back in by the bindings.

He dropped in the middle of the circle in a heap, gasping for breath.

[haled]

Whatever it was that rose out of the grave seemed to enter Stiles and that was the point where Derek's eyes widened and he moved out of his place. And then Stiles dropped and he was quickly moving toward him.

"Stiles." He didn't shout. It was a simple, quiet call once he was close enough that he was sure Stiles could hear him.

"Stiles, are you alright?"

Derek nearly dropped down to his knees beside him, ready to lift him up if he had to.

[sarcasticdefence]

Stiles' head snapped up, gaze locking on Derek for a long moment before he relaxed and gave a half smile. "Hey creeper-wolf. Long time no see. Fancy meeting a guy like you in a place like- Actually, no, this makes total sense, because you hang out in creepy places."

[haled]

The fact that Stiles looked up at him was a good thing, but the response felt off. Then again, they'd all been through enough and it had been quite some time, so maybe it was just that he was thinking back on Stiles wanting to avoid him.

"I don't hang out here." He shook his head slightly and offered Stiles a hand. "What were you doing a little bit ago?"

[sarcasticdefence]

"You saw that, huh?"

He thought for a moment. Then lied anyway. "Just some basic stuff Deaton was showing me. Wards and stuff like that, you know, nothing major but knuckling down on the basics of this spark shit."

[haled]

"Yeah, I did."

His hand remained out, offered to help Stiles up, as he waited for some explanation. Derek couldn't help giving him a look at what he got. "That thing went into you, Stiles."

[sarcasticdefence]

Stiles reached out a hand to get helped up. He was cold to the touch, cold as the grave. "Yeah... guess it sure did."

He dusted off his ass. "It's fine. I know what I'm doing. What's a little dark magic between friends?"

[haled]

Derek was surprised by just how cold Stiles' hand was and he stared down at it in his for a couple of seconds before letting go once he was upright.

"Dark magic? Seriously, Stiles?" He raised his gaze to watch him, almost expecting his face to change, like the thing - the spirit or soul or whatever that had been - was going to take over. "What're you using it for?"

[sarcasticdefence]

"Saving it for a rainy day," he replied blithely. "What do you use dark magic for in your family, aside from possessing people and forcing them to perform arcane necromantic rites? Not that I know anything about raising the dead. It's a bad idea. You get other things back."

[haled]

All Derek could do was stare at him for a long few moments, unsure of whether or not Stiles was actually in his right mind at all. "Does anybody else know you're doing... this?" He nodded down at the grave and the things in front of it.

[sarcasticdefence]

Stiles stared back with an exaggerated innocent expression, foot moving to try and kick out the signs of a ritual circle without Derek noticing what he was doing. "What's... to know...?

[haled]

"That you're doing something that involves spirits. And absorbing them." Derek had no idea if he was right about that or not, but he caught the movement and glanced down, raising his eyebrows.

"Why're you trying to do that if you're not doing anything, Stiles?"

[sarcasticdefence]

He froze and rocked then rocked on his feet. "Look, I know what I'm doing. I'm not your pack. I'm not your people. I'm just looking out for me in this little spawning hellhole of trouble that is no place for some regular human." He rubbed the invisible tattoos on his arm.

[haled]

"So, I'm not allowed to look out for you because you're not my pack?" Derek snorted at that, shaking his head and folding his arms across his chest. "I'm not telling you to not look out for yourself, but don't get in over your head. How'd you learn to do this stuff?"

[sarcasticdefence]

"You haven't done it before now, have you?" Stiles balled his hands into fists.

"Dad sent me away. To recover from the massacre and, you know, the being kidnapped and having the shit kicked out of me. And I picked up some stuff while I was away so that it doesn't matter if no one comes, I'll be able to look after myself next time."

[haled]

Derek stared at him, glancing down at his hands then up at Stiles, realizing that everything that happened with Jackson had really gotten to him. More than gotten to him, really.

"You don't have to just look after yourself, Stiles."

[sarcasticdefence]

It wasn't what happened to Jackson exactly. It was seeing people he knew and grew up with dead and gutted. It was being helpless and relying on Scott and Derek to save him and his dad. It was being kidnapped and assaulted and helpless again.

"No, I don't. I have to look after Dad and Scott and Melissa, too."

[haled]

Not to Jackson, but involving Jackson. What Jackson did as the kanima, the threat that had come so quickly after Peter had been taken care of. Derek shook his head at what Stiles came back with.

"You don't have to do it alone. Like this."

[sarcasticdefence]

"Yeah, because you'll be there like you were before?" He spread his fingers, hand loose and arm half lifted and reached into the depths where they churned and roiled.

A flicked pinch of mountain ash became a line stretching from one side of the graveyard to the other. "You suck, Derek. Leave me alone, I know what I'm doing. More than you do."

[haled]

"I-"

Derek didn't get anything out in return before he was suddenly unable to get to Stiles, his eyes dropping to look one way then the other as he took in the line of mountain ash. And while Stiles was right that he probably knew more, Derek knew how wrong what he was doing was. It didn't take knowledge. All it took was being close enough to feel it.

"Stiles, don't do it like this. There are other forms of magic..."

[sarcasticdefence]

"Well I don't have a lot of options, Derek. Turns out, when you soak your life with death, it fucks up magic shit. I was hardly going to frolic naked through moonlit nights with unicorns, was I?" He scuffed his heel on the ground.

[haled]

"Look at Deaton. Just because you're surrounded by death doesn't mean you've gotta go that route." He stood on the other side of the mountain ash, staring across it at Stiles. Nothing he was saying was going to get through. He could tell.

It left him wondering if approaching Scott about it was a decent option.