Archive of Our Own ^beta

Stiles' vision is fuzzy around the edges when he blinks open his eyes. He tries to rub his eyes, but finds that his hands are stuck above his head. The reality of his situation hits him then like a bolt of lightning from a clear sky.

"Shit," he mutters under his breath. He can feel his heartbeat speeding up and his breath come in short, shallow burst as he senselessly struggles against the rope that pins his wrists together above his head. Focus! No time for a panic attack now. He'll have to come back to that later, once he's out of immediate danger.

With a shiver, he looks up at the thick rope wrapping around his wrists, and the way said rope is attached to a tree branch above his head, far enough up that he is forced to stay standing. His wrists are already achy as hell from the rough rope and most likely carrying his entire weight while he was passed out. And if that isn't enough, he is also already losing feeling in his fingers from the November chill.

He looks around, frantically searching for a way out. He is in the middle in the woods. It looks like the preserve, but it really could be anywh- Oh crap. He spots the large tree stump of the Nemeton to his left.

Always with that damn tree… Couldn't the bad guys just for once do their creepy rituals in a nice, warm house instead of in the middle of the cold, damp woods?

There is movement in his periphery next to the Nemeton, but he can't quite manage to turn enough to see what it is, the large tree that he is tied to obscuring his view of the clearing. "Who's there?" He yells before he has a chance to stop his mouth.

Between one blink and the next, a cloaked figure is standing in front of him. He flinches hard, throwing himself back against the tree behind him. "Jesus!"

The hood of the cloak obscures the face of the person, and for a minute the figure just stands silently in front of him. He feels horribly exposed. Then, the figure slowly reaches up and removes the hood of their cloak and…

"Huh." He isn't sure what he expected, but it certainly wasn't this. In front of him is a woman. No weird creepy eyes, no fangs, no horns. Just a regular, average woman who looks only a few years older than him. Well, totally regular except for the fact that she has him tied up in the middle of the woods and is clearly ready for some sort of creepy ritual.

They both stare at each other, almost like they are playing a game of chicken on who speaks first. It's obviously a losing game for Stiles from the second they start. "I gotta say, this is a little forward for me for a first date. I usually wait with all bondage-related activities until at least the fifth date. Also, it isn't really the season for a picnic in the woods. Why don't we go somewhere warmer? Maybe grab a nice, warm cup of hot chocolate while you tell me what it is you want?"

The woman grins at him like he is the most entertaining thing she's ever seen. "Oh, you'll do quite nicely."

"Me? See, that's where you're mistaken. I don't think I've ever excelled at anything in my life. I'm sure there are lots of other people who would be much better candidates for whatever it is you are going to do. Not me though. Definitely not me."

She shakes her head, amused. "Now now, don't sell yourself short. I've been watching you for some time now and I must say, you are quite remarkable."

She's- "What? How long have you been planning this?"

"Besides," she says, fully ignoring his question. "There really is only one true requirement for what I have planned, and you have fulfilled it perfectly."

Stiles' mouth feels like sandpaper as he tries to swallow down the feeling of being absolutely fucked. "And what is that?" He asks, not sure he wants to know the answer. If it's the virgin thing again, he swears to God-

"I need someone who has been touched by darkness." She says it like someone would ask about the weather while waiting in line at a grocery store.

For Stiles though, her revelation is anything but common. It feels like the earth has disappeared beneath his feet. Like his worst recurring nightmare has manifested right in front of him. "The Nogitsune," he whispers.

She nods, then shrugs. "Any demonic force, really." She abruptly turns and leaves, going back to whatever it was she was doing before.

"Wait!" He's shaking now, from both the cold and the fear. The panic is right at the edge of his consciousness, threatening to overtake him completely. He has to- needs to convince her to stop. Somehow. "What-"

She returns to her position in front of him, looking surprisingly patient.

"I don't know what you are planning, but if it has anything to do with that monster, I promise you it's a mistake. The Nogitsune only craves pain and strife. It won't help you with whatever you need."

Her laugh is a pretty clear indication that this is definitely not the right tactic. Noted.

"Don't worry. I have no intention of summoning that beast, " she says like it is the most obvious thing in the world. It isn't, but he still feels ten times lighter knowing that it won't ever take over again.

"Then why-"

"The darkness of possession leaves a permanent mark on the soul, you see. Makes it more susceptible to outside forces."

Well fuck. Clearly, she isn't planning on releasing the Nogitsune, but Stiles knows for a fact that it is far from the only dark creature out there capable of possession. It doesn't matter what it is… He can't do that ever again. He can't be locked inside his own mind like that ever again. He'd rather die.

His fear must show on his face because the way she looks at him is almost… compassionate? "Don't be scared, Stiles." She puts a gentle hand on the side of face and Stiles wishes for everything in the world that he could move away from the touch.

"Right, why didn't I think of that. I'll just stop being scared. Thanks," he snarks, wielding his old and trusty (and only) weapon; his sarcasm.

"As long as you don't fight it, as long as you allow him to fully take over, I promise you won't suffer."

"No thanks."

"It'll just be like sleeping for you. You won't be conscious anymore." Her voice is soft, like a mother comforting a child.

"I actually quite like being conscious and in control of my own body. Besides, I'm sure whatever you have planned will put my friends in danger, and that's a total no-go. That's a hard line that you just don't cross with me, so…" He fumbles to find the perfect argument for why killing him (or possessing. whatever.) is a bad idea, but no one ever said that everything coming out his mouth is high quality content. "No deal."

She shrugs, her compassion quickly crumbling to give way to indifference. "This can either happen fast and painlessly, or it can happen while you suffer needlessly. Either way, it's inevitable. If you want to be stubborn and be in excruciating pain, have it your way."

For once, he doesn't have a retort. It's honestly a little hilarious. He's about to die a painful and horrible death any minute, and now is when he learns how to shut up? Seriously? Oh, well. Rambling and talking too much in dangerous situations was always a part of his charm anyway.

"And," she says, "Your friends will remain unhurt." She walks away to complete her task from before, which Stiles can now tell is a big ring of some kind of powder. Mountain ash, probably. Then, barely loud enough to hear, she adds, "As long as they don't try to interfere, of course."

By the time the woman seems to be done with her preparations, Stiles has thought through every possible way out of this situation and he is pretty much drawing a blank. He's running out of time, and he knows he only has one course of action. It's not an elegant solution by any measure, and it comes with significant risk to both himself and his friends. Still, a risky solution is better than no solution at all.

So he screams. Calls for Scott as loud as he can, and hopes that the pack is already out in the preserve looking for him, or at least close enough to hear. He calls for Derek too, because he's the most likely to be out in the preserve even if they aren't looking for him. Then - and he can admit that this is slightly desperate - he calls for Isaac too, just to be on the safe side. Before he gets the chance to call for even more desperate candidates, the woman suddenly appears in front of him.

"Hush," she says, then touches his forehead and everything goes blurry and confusing. He barely registers as she unties him and starts dragging him towards the center of the Nemeton. 

***

Scott might actually be losing his mind. They've been running in circles all over town looking for Stiles for hours, and they've barely gotten a clue. It's like he has disappeared without a trace, leaving not even a hint of a scent behind. Scott is sure that means something, but he doesn't know what. Stiles would know.

Thanks to Lydia, they finally got what they initially thought was an actual helpful clue. Now, as they are weaving through the trees of the preserve, he is starting to doubt the usefulness of the banshee's vague feeling of 'woods'.

Every single member of the pack seems scared out of their mind, and Lydia most of all. A 'bad feeling', she's told them repeatedly. A literal harbinger of death has a 'bad feeling', and his best friend is missing. So yeah, Scott is losing his mind.

"Anything?" He calls out to Derek, who's only just visible between the trees to his right, for what is probably the 37th time. For the 37th time, Derek shakes his head. Scott looks to the other side to Isaac and Malia but receives a similar response.

He looks back to where Lydia and Kira are trailing behind him with a questioning look.

Lydia looks almost like she did right before she screamed for Allison in the tunnels beneath Oak Creek as she shakes her head. "We're running out of time," she whispers.

Almost as if the universe is listening, that's when they hear it. Scott sets off towards Stiles' scream without a second thought, the other Weres close behind at breakneck speed. He knows where they are going before long, and he could kick himself for not even thinking to check out the Nemeton earlier.

The sight that meets him when he reaches that damn tree is like something out of his worst nightmares. They all freeze in their tracks.

At the center of what is left of the Nemeton, his best friend in the world is kneeling in front of a woman he has never seen before. Stiles' hands are tied behind him, and he looks dazed like he doesn't quite know what is going on - that, more than anything is what freaks him out. Stiles has always been so quick to figure out a situation, always been so much more aware than Scott. The only time Scott has ever seen Stiles like this, in all the years they have been best friends, was when he was possessed and thought he was losing his mind.

The woman behind Stiles doesn't seem to care about the new arrivals. She pulls a knife out of seemingly nowhere, and doesn't even acknowledge the strangled "No!" that escapes Scott.

Where the sight of a knife dangerously close to his very human best friend's neck makes him scared to even breathe, it seems to do the opposite to Derek.

With a growl, the man charges. He doesn't get far. As soon as he reaches the close perimeter of the Nemeton, Derek is thrown back by some invisible force, landing hard on the ground right next to Scott. He doesn't check on him, doesn't dare to take his eyes off Stiles. He figures Derek will be fine judging by the way he is at least still conscious and groaning. Besides, Derek has accelerated werewolf healing. Stiles doesn't.

He dares to step a little closer, noticing the solid line of dark powder surrounding Stiles and the woman. Mountain ash.

"Please," he yells out. Anything to get her attention away from Stiles. "Whatever you're planning to do, just please-"

He isn't really sure what his plan is. Plans were always Stiles' area of expertise. Scott mostly just leads with his intuition and empathy. Maybe he can convince this woman to let Stiles go?

The woman doesn't react, but Stiles finally meets his eyes. He still looks a little dazed, but much more clear-minded than just a few seconds ago. "Scott?" Stiles asks, blinking furiously like he can't quite believe that anyone came for him.

Scott attempts what he hopes is a reassuring smile. "Yeah, buddy. I'm here. I'll get you out of this, I promise."

Finally, his words seem to trigger a reaction from the woman. Unfortunately, that reaction is a dry chuckle that decidedly does not sound like she is on the verge of being persuaded to let Stiles go.

"You shouldn't make promises you can't keep, darling." Her eyes are piercing when they meet Scott's, and for a second he swears they flash black.

"Then help me keep my promise," Scott tries. "Let him go."

Her mouth quirks like she is amused. "No."

"Whatever you plan to use him for, take me instead." He says the words before he has barely even thought them. He still means them with his whole being, even as he hears the sounds of protest from both Kira behind him and Stiles in front of him.

"Have you also been touched by darkness?"

"What?" Scott asks dumbly.

Like it's the most obvious thing in the word, she says, "Have you also been possessed by a dark entity before like your friend here?"

"I-" what is she talking about? "No but-"

"Then no." She runs a hand through Stiles hair, almost lovingly. "This one, he's the perfect candidate. His possession by the Nogitsune left his body and soul wide open to being overtaken. He will be the perfect host for my love." Despite his confused state, Stiles visibly shudders at the mention of possession.

If it wasn't for his enhanced hearing, Scott isn't sure he would have heard Stiles' slurred whisper, "Please."

He sounds scared. Terrified. Desperate. And in that moment, Scott remembers the way Stiles had talked about the Nogitsune, just a week after everything had happened. The way he'd confessed in a rather casual tone that he would rather die than lose control like that again. The way he'd said, in a way that could have been construed as a joke, that Scott had to promise to take him out if that ever happened again. Scott had been too wrapped up in his grief for Allison to understand it for what it was at the time. He'd been almost upset at Stiles for joking about what happened so soon after, but now he understands. He understands, and he knows that he can't give Stiles what he wants.

What did Stiles expect? He knows that Scott doesn't even want to kill bad people. How could he ever expect that Scott could ever consider killing the best person he has ever known?

He knows just what Stiles would say. He'd say that once again, Scott is putting his own morals over actual people. But he just can't do it. Even if it's what Stiles would want, even if it's selfish. He refuses.

And he refuses to give up on Stiles before it's truly over.

***

Derek painstakingly makes his way to his feet. His muscles ache, and he feels like he just ran face first into a solid wall. He inches closer to Scott, this time more careful until he spots the line of mountain ash.

He wants to yell in frustration when Scott offers up himself in exchange for Stiles. He knows Scott means well, but dammit, that boy always manages to make things worse. Still, Scott is the alpha now. A true alpha, even. That has to mean something, so he keeps his mouth shut and lets Scott lead the conversation.

He looks around for Lydia, knowing that she is the only one in their group who can break the line of mountain ash. Aside from Stiles of course. She isn't anywhere to be seen, and he figures she is still making her way here from where they all left her in the woods when they heard Stiles' screams. She can't exactly run as fast as the rest of them. Hopefully, she'll get here soon. Maybe Scott's dumb-ass attempts at negotiating with this woman will at least by them enough time for that.

Except, the woman reveals that she plans to let someone else possess Stiles, and the quiet, slurred, heartbreaking 'please' from Stiles causes Scott to just… freeze. Scott looks horrified, and Derek gets why, but they need to stall and Scott staring at his best friend is not helping with that.

As quietly as he can, Derek whispers, "Isaac, go get Lydia." Isaac, thankfully, runs back the way they came without a question. Then, Derek tries to summon a bit of Stiles' talent and starts just saying whatever he can to stall. "What exactly is your plan here? You kill Stiles, and then what? How do you plan on getting past all of us alone after that?" The woman looks a bit surprised over his words, so he keeps going. "And trust me, if you kill Stiles, you do not want to fight us on your own. We will go for the kill."

He is a little surprised at the extreme fury in his own voice, but he means every bit of it.

"I don't plan on killing Stiles. I am going to summon the spirit of my eternal love into him, I thought that was clear?" There is a creepy sweetness in her voice, and Derek gets a horrible feeling that she is 10 steps ahead of them and is just playing with them. "I really don't need to kill this sweet boy to achieve that. I just need to weaken him to prepare him for total surrender. Make him bleed a little. And once my love arrives, I won't be fighting you alone."

"I'll never surrender to you or any evil spirit," Stiles spits out, the slurring almost gone from his speech. He looks way more present now. Whatever she did to him before they arrived, it must be wearing off. Just that fact is enough to spark the hope inside Derek. If there is anything Stiles can do, it's escape life and death situation through his wits.

Stiles winces a little as the woman grabs his hair and roughly pulls back his head so he's forced to look at her. Derek growls at the sign of pain in a pack member. After the fire, he swore he would never let down his pack ever again. He sure as hell isn't about to start now.

"I thought I told you it will only bring you unspeakable pain if you try to resist me," the woman hisses, eyes flashing ink black.

"Fuck you." There is a clear spark of resistance in Stiles' eyes.

"Oh? What if I hurt your friends instead? Will you still resist me then?"

The stubbornness in Stiles' face falters, and Derek knows she hit a sore spot for him. From the smirk on her face she knows it too.

"Stiles, don't listen to her!" Derek tries. "Whatever she says, don't give in."

There is venom in her voice when she looks directly at Derek and holds out a hand towards him. "Looks like we have a volunteer."

For a second, nothing happens. Then, a deep pain starts in his stomach and spreads throughout his entire body in seconds. He falls to his knees with a scream. He can barely process the terrified screams coming from his pack. Pain takes over his entire consciousness, like someone is pulling his insides out through his skin.

"No! Please stop!" Stiles screams, and Derek weakly lifts his head to look at the boy. He looks crushed. Hopeless.

"Don't," Derek forces out. He couldn't bear it if Stiles stopped fighting on his behalf.

"I won't fight you, just please leave them alone." Stiles voice is frantic. It breaks a little when he begs, "Please."

Out of nowhere, the pain stops, leaving Derek breathing heavily and trying to make his voice work again. "I can take it Stiles. Don't give her what she wants."

It's a lie, and they all know it.

The woman looks out into the woods for a few seconds like she can sense something the rest of them can't. Then she looks down at Stiles again, who is shaking and has tears running down his face. "Well, let's hurry this along then." With a speed that is definitely not human, she moves in front of Stiles and stabs him in the chest.

The scream that escapes Stiles starts as more of a surprised yelp before it morphs into one of pain, and finally turns breathless like his lungs have no more air.

Scott's scream is one of agony as he desperate throws himself against the invisible barrier of mountain ash with bright red eyes, no doubt trying to recreate what he did all those weeks ago when he broke through a similar barrier to defeat Jennifer. It doesn't give.

Derek feels frozen in place watching Stiles collapse to his side as if in slow motion. Reality blurs for a second, and the smell of blood and pain merges with a long-gone smell of smoke and burning flesh.

A shrill scream brings him out of the nightmare of his past and into the nightmare of his present. Behind him, Lydia and Isaac have broken through into the clearing of the Nemeton. For a horrifying second, he thinks Lydia's scream means Stiles is dead. Then, he sees the woman being thrown back a few feet, as if the banshee's scream pushed her. While the woman is distracted, Lydia runs up to the mountain ash line and breaks it.

Derek wastes no time and throws himself at the woman, going straight for the throat.

***

Stiles is so cold. He was cold before he was stabbed in the chest, and he is even more cold now. It's a little ridiculous that is his first thought but well, you can't exactly expect him to be thinking clearly. He was just stabbed, after all. He is vaguely aware of the growing wetness beneath him, and he knows that his coldness is probably a symptom of his blood loss. Not good.

Breathing isn't totally easy either, like something heavy is sitting on his chest.

It hurts, but it's sorta distant, like he isn't really in his own body. When Lydia breaks into his line of sight and screams, he wonders briefly if maybe he is already dead. She usually screams when someone is already dead. Maybe he is a ghost, watching from beside his body? No, he figures he would be floating above his injured body if that was the case. Maybe it's like when Allison died, when Lydia screamed for her as soon as her fate was sealed, even though Alli wasn't fully dead yet at that point?

He certainly feels like he is close to death. The world is blurring, falling in and out of focus. Scott is right next to him now. When did he get here?

He feels several warm hands on him as they turn him from his side to his back, and the last remnants of pain disappear. He hope it's because the wolves are taking his pain, not because he is so far gone that he can't feel anything anymore. He looks at each of their faces, tries to get the world to stay in focus. They all look so scared and sad. That can't be good.

"Stiles?" Scott yells, and Stiles gets the impression that this is not the first time his friend has yelled his name. "Stiles, just look at me. Keep your eyes open."

"Scotty?" His voice comes out stronger than expected, even if it's still little more than a whisper.

"Yeah, I'm here. You'll be okay." Scott is crying. Scott was always a big crier.

"Promise?"

"Yeah," Scott says, nodding frantically. "I promise."

As the world keep growing darker and the voices of his friends grows distant, Stiles smiles, and finds that it is the easiest thing in the world.