A Place to Stay

by AnAceAJokerAndAQueen

Summary:

Will Graham finds himself alone and in the Downworld with no one to turn to. Luckily, Stiles doesn't mind roommates.

Notes:

• Translation into Español available: A Place to Stay (Traducción) by lbp98l

Chapter 1: Chapter 1

Summary:

Magnus finds himself with a rather unexpected guest.

Humming along with the song on the radio, Magnus determines the living room to be spotless- or well, as clean as it could be for owning a cat- and checked the time, sitting down on the loveseat.

8:35, and almost an hour since Alexander had call to say he was bringing dinner- Greek food- having gotten off early from patrolling.

Not that there had been much besides the usual. Morgenstern’s death had had a ripple effect in what demons were crawling around, the city quieter than it had been in years. It was a relief, but the Institute was still wary.

And yet Alexander, for the life of him, could not manage to be on time to a dinner he suggested. Well, the traffic was the same as it had always been, dreadful.

Magnus hummed, petting Chairman Meow, the small cat purring contentedly in his lap.

A soft knock on the door and Magnus leapt to his feet, eager to see Alexander, Chairman Meow following leisurely behind him.

“Honestly Alexander, did you go to the place closest to the Institute to get dinner? The wait there is horribly long, you know tha-” Magnus says loudly, swinging open the door only to find someone other than Alexander standing there.

The man standing there looked dreadfully tired, and exhausted in more ways than one. Pale skin, hair messy and rumpled, grey eyes downcast, and an arm curved protectively around his barely rounded stomach.

Oh.

Oh dear.

“I… I was told you might help me.” The man says softly, and Magnus listens to the gravelly edge in his voice, the sound of unused vocal chords.

“... Come in.” Magnus says, and watches as the man slowly walks inside, only a suitcase at his heels.

Magnus turns, gesturing to the couch. “Please, sit.” He says, sitting down himself on the loveseat, angling himself towards the man.

The man seems cautious, but sits down on the edge of the couch. Chairman Meow rubs against the stranger’s leg, and Magnus knows he’s in for it now, settling in for a long night.

The only other people Chairman approved of were Stiles and Alexander, which certainly said something. Even with that, it had taken some time for Chairman Meow to warm up to Alexander.

 

“Hello,” Magnus says, startling the man to look up at him from watching the cat, “I’m Magnus Bane, but please, call me Magnus. Tell me everything you feel comfortable telling me, and I’ll see what I can do to help.” He says, and the man continues to keep his gaze low, speaking to Chairman Meow rather than to himself. Understandable, really.

“My name is Will. I… My partner… I think he changed me. I Saw him, Saw what he truly was, and we were alright- we were together for a little while.” He says, a pained and sorrowful smile upon his face, “But he left me, thinking I had hurt him, that I had- betrayed him. He lashed out, hurting me and… and killing our foster daughter.” He murmurs, breath hitching now and again.

Magnus conjures a cup of tea and pushes it into Will’s hand, who accepts and takes a slow sip. The man clearly needed it, a mix of relaxants and what Magnus knew to be safe for babies from previous mothers stopping by for his help.

“I was in the hospital until recently. The doctors told me that I’m severely undernourished for how far along I am, but I couldn’t stay there. I don’t know if... If the babies need different things because of the change, I don’t even know what I am now.” He says, his pale skin turning pitch black along his fingertips, looking up with pupiless white eyes.

“Twins?” Magnus asks softly, and Will nods, stunned at the lack of reaction from him, his skin and eyes shifting back. Magnus wondered if he was perhaps a Wendigo. More likely that he was a Ravenstag, to have such control over a limited shift.

Rare then, and with specific needs. His mate would have to be monitored if he could be found, for Magnus knew that most Ravenstag didn't leave behind their pregnant mates. Ever. Ravestag were up there along with Werewolves over how they chose their mates, protecting them tooth and claw. And that was before children came into the picture.

“Y-yeah.” Will says, and turns when the door opens behind them.

Alexander stands in the doorway holding a takeout bag, looking confused only for a moment, before closing the door behind him.

“I got more than enough for everbody.” He says calmly, walking by towards the kitchen, takeout bag in hand. Magnus smiles fondly at him as Alexander brushes a hand along his shoulder as he walks by.

Dishes clink in the kitchen and Magnus turns back to Will, mind already far ahead and thinking of what to do next.

“Well, let’s eat, and then let’s see what we can figure out about you, Will. I think I have an idea or two.”

Chapter 2: Chapter 2

Summary:

Stiles welcomes Will to the Stilinski house, and Stiles begins to wonder about this so called mate of his.

Stiles yawns, followed by taking a huge gulp of his coffee, one eye on the sizzling pan of eggs on the stove, and the other on the toaster.

Footsteps drew closer, and both Emma and Tony wander down the stairs, drawn by the smell of coffee and breakfast.

Emma and Tony- along with Simon- were some of the very few with nowhere left to go after Morgenstern, and had tentatively taken up his offer of somewhere to stay. With the expansions Gabe had agreed to make on the house, Stiles could easily offer them the space, and all were slowly adjusting to the new environment shift, hugely different than from the place they were before.

Finishing breakfast and plating up the eggs and toast for the three of them, Stiles goes over to the fridge and pulls out a blood bag, carefully opening the resealable cap and pouring about half of the bag into a glass before putting the bag back, washing his hands before sitting down in the dining room to eat.

Simon wanders down less than a minute later, drawn by the smell, and Stiles keeps one eye on him as Simon downs the glass in the kitchen before wandering over to the living room.

Once he hears the TV turn on, Stiles focuses back on eating, half listening to Tony talk to Emma, and half thinking to himself.

Simon hadn’t dealt well with becoming a Daylighter on top of his adjusting to becoming a Vampire, and how Stiles knew that in the first place wasn’t a nice story. So Stiles spoke with Lily often, doing what he could to help Simon.

Emma and Tony had been taken by Morgenstern a few days apart, and both were on the ship less than a week before the battle. Emma and Tony had both been picked up by Circle members off the streets, Stiles knew that much from what they had both told him.

Some of many people with stories similar about what had happened, Stiles knew.

Emma was still visiting every couple days with Dr. Martin, and despite of Lucifer’s disparaging comments about Dr. Martin, the doctor had done a lot in helping her deal with her trauma- both from Morgenstern and from her home life before her kidnapping.

Tony seemed more at ease in the last few days, his part-time job at a local construction crew therapeutic for him. Stiles spoke with him at least once a day, and Tony spoke easier about things in general.

That and Dean offered to take Tony shooting on the weekends, both spending a few hours on the weekend at Bobby’s every now and again. That seemed to make Tony feel better too.

Emma wandered to the living room after breakfast, and Tony bid them all goodbye before heading off to work.

Stiles did the dishes before walking up to his study, settling in to work on a charm set a client had ordered. Not hard to make, he just needed time to make it. Carving charms was fun, and it was only an hour or so later before he finished the set.

 

Checking his phone on his way to grab more coffee, Stiles realized he had several missed calls from Magnus.

Listening through them before checking the time, Stiles realized that Magnus was going to be arriving shortly, and that it would probably be best to tell Simon and Emma what was going on.

Walking into the living room, Stiles finds Emma and Simon watching Doctor Who, avidly discussing the Police Box vs. the Magically Extended Tent from Harry Potter, and which was larger by technicality.

“Hey, so Magnus just called, and he’s going to be showing up soon with someone who’s gonna be staying with us.” Stiles says, and both turn to look at him. “New to the Downworld too, so try not to spook him, he’s got enough on his plate already.”

Emma nods and Simon asks curiously, “Do you know what he is? Wait, does he even know what he is then, if he’s new to this?”

“Magnus confirmed that he’s Ravenstag. Think Wendigo, but with more control after their turning. Like, a lot more.” Stiles says, and Simon looks mildly interested.

“So, he… Also eats humans like a wendigo would? ‘Cause that’s a bit weird.” Simon says a little nervously, and Stiles shakes his head.

“To be honest, it would be like starving himself if he went too long without eating it, and Magnus told me that because of how he was turned he doesn’t- and can’t- hunt for himself all that well. Not that he wasn’t already a selective hunter, Magnus says he preferred hunting killers, when he could still hunt.” Stiles says, and Simon nods.

“Why can’t he hunt for himself? That seems like an important thing to be able to do, as a predator.” Emma asks, and Stiles frowns, shaking his head in remembering what Magnus had said.

“His mate never taught him. Ravenstag usually teach their new partners or offspring to hunt, and are gathered in tight knit family groups. But his mate left before that, and didn’t even tell him officially that he was going to Turn him.”

Emma growls lowly. “That’s awful! How could he, he- just leave like that? Especially if they were mates! I know that has to be like, one of the worst things you could do to a newly turned.”

Stiles nods his head. “Yeah, I know.” He says, and the doorbell rings, Simon and Emma’s heads turning to look at the entryway as Stiles heads to open the door.

“Hello Stiles, good to see you.” Magnus greets him, and Stiles hugs him briefly before turning to look at the man standing behind Magnus.

Tired, pale, and emotionally drained, grey eyes framed by black glasses. To be frank, he looked like shit.

“Hey, I’m Stiles. Welcome. If you’d like, Simon and Emma are in the living room right now- they live here too- or if you don’t feel up to meeting them, that’s okay. I could show you around and you can pick a room.” Stiles says, and the man stands there thinking before Stiles and Magnus usher him in the door, Magnus heading to the living room.

“Um, I think I’d like to sleep for a little while, actually.” He says softly, and Stiles smiles at him.

“Alright, no problem. But Emma and Simon are gonna bombard you with questions at some point, so prepare yourself for that. Don't worry. Simon's known to ramble sometimes, so it'll be pretty mutual.” Stiles says, showing him to the now convenient elevator Gabe had put in during remodeling.

A decent point, for the injured traveling multiple staircases from the top floor, or that Stiles is not the only person who is occasionally a tripping hazard to themselves.

“Dinner’s at six usually, and just down the hall from the entryway and to the right. There's a bathroom down the hall, the door should be open, so it should be easy to find.” Stiles lists off and leads the man to one of the larger bedrooms on the fourth floor, one of the few rooms with two connecting bedrooms. That might be coming in handy sooner than Stiles thought it would. “Here we are,” Stiles says, opening the door.

“Thank you.” The man says, hand resting briefly on his stomach before moving into the room, suitcase dragging behind him.

“No problem. Hope we see you at dinner.” Stiles says with a smile as he turns to go.

“Will.” The man says, and Stiles stops.

“Huh?” Stiles says, and the man looks up for a few seconds.

“My name is Will.” Will says, looking away, and Stiles grins.

“Well then, I hope to see you at dinner, Will.” Stiles says, before closing the door.

Heading down the stairs, Stiles hopes Magnus has something for him on the mate because honestly, Stiles wanted to know what the fuck that man was thinking to have left Will, and that was a question he wanted to ask in person.

Chapter 3: Chapter 3

Summary:

Magnus informs Stiles and his roommates about Will's situation, and no one's really all too happy with Hannibal right now.

Magnus had situated himself on the end of the couch, sitting in between Emma on the armchair and Simon on the middle of the couch, the TV paused. The two of them were pestering Magnus with various questions, but quieted down when they saw Stiles enter the room.

“Well, that was…” Stiles draws off, not really having anything to say about what he’d just witnessed. Yeah, not awesome at all.

Magnus turns as Stiles comes around the couch and sits on the other end.

“Quite.” Magnus agrees, words not needed to convey his disbelief.

“So wait, what’s going on? I got most of what’s happened, but, I mean, I don’t think what you said earlier is all of what there is going on.” Emma says, and Stiles nods his head to Magnus.

“I think you know the most, right now,” Stiles says, “And I want to know what you’ve gotten on his mate so far.”

Magnus snorts. “I may be magical, but I’m not that magical.” He says with a grin, before sighing. “Not as much as your hoping for, but enough that you have somewhere to start looking.” He sighs again.

“You won’t like it, and I doubt your opinion of Will’s mate is going to get any better.” Magnus says, and Stiles gives him a ‘no shit’ look before waving his hand for Magnus to continue.

“I know most of this from what Will told me and from what a quick search on the internet brought up, but I’m sure there’s more.” Magnus says to Stiles.

“Will Graham, former criminal profiler for FBI, recently was put in the hospital after confronting Dr. Hannibal Lecter- his mate- in a bloody confrontation between the FBI and now known serial killer Dr. Lecter- again, not unusual for a Ravenstag. Prideful killers.” Magnus huffs, taking a breath before continuing. “Will was one of several who were injured in the confrontation, but I think the most important person besides Will was Abigail Hobbs, Lecter and Graham’s foster daughter.” Magnus looked down as he spoke further.

“Abigail was injured severely with a laceration to the neck. Died of blood loss and shock in the ambulance to the hospital.”

“Oh god.” Emma whispers, covering her mouth with a hand, the other wrapped tightly around a pillow, hugging it against herself.

“Will told me a little of the confrontation beforehand, but from what I gathered, I don’t even think he truly knew what caused Dr. Lecter to get upset at him in the first place. He showed up after the FBI were already there, and I think that’s what gave Dr. Lecter the idea that Will betrayed him.” Magnus sighed.

“Besides the fact that Will got pregnant from what was likely only the one time they were together intimately after he had turned, I think that about sums everything up.” Magnus says lowly, shaking his head.

“That and no one knows where Dr. Lecter is now, although guesses and ‘sightings’ say he’s in Europe somewhere.” He says, and Stiles is near speechless.

What. The fuck? Like, what the actual fuck.

“Wait,” Emma growls, “He’s carrying?” pretty much the same time Simon says, “He’s gregnant?!”

Stiles gives Simon a look before turning to Emma, who looked about ready to tear his pillow apart.

“Hey, easy on the pillow there, no need to go postal. I’m finding this guy first chance I get, and possibly beating him over the head to knock some sense into him before dragging him by the ear back here.” Stiles says angrily, jumping up and narrowly avoiding running into the coffee table before plopping himself down next to to her.

Snatching the pillow from her, he hugs it to his chest, letting her squeeze him and the pillow tightly instead of ripping his pillow to shreds.

Meh, a bear hug over an extra trip to the store? Fair enough, in Stiles’ opinion.

“I’ll send word to all the European High Warlocks I’m on good terms with, and I’m sure Mycroft alone would probably have something for you by the end of the week.” Magnus says, before Stiles realizes something.

“Oh!” He says, thinking, “I should probably ask Will to see John, if he’s alright with it. John’s got enough general pediatrics knowledge, and I can ask my Dad too, if there’s anything else we might need. He could talk with Melissa as well, if we needed more help.”

“I think we know enough parents and medical personnel to have Will and his babies safe for a while.” Magnus says assuringly.

“Babies? As in plural?” Simon asks, and Magnus nods with a smile.

“Yes. Twins, I believe Will said.” Magnus responds, and Stiles can’t help but smile at that.

Hopefully, this wasn’t going to bring up the ‘baby conversation’ with more of the couples in his life than necessary, but Stiles knew otherwise.

Bunch of drama queens, the whole lot of them.

“Alright. I should probably text Tony that we have a new roommate, I think that’s something he’d want to know before he came home.” Emma says, who releases Stiles and heads up to her room for her phone.

Stiles sighs.

“Well, I’ll be off. I’ll contact High Warlock Capire, along with a few others. Holmes first, though.” Magnus says, before heading towards the door.

“See ya Magnus!” Stiles calls, sitting still. Simon seemed to want to talk, so he waited.

“Goodbye Stiles!” Magnus yells, before the front door shuts.

Stiles sat, waiting for Simon to organize his thoughts into actual questions.

“Is his mate going to stay here with Will, once you find him?” Simon finally asks quietly, and Stiles shakes his head.

“I know Will needs somewhere to stay for now, but I don’t know how his mate is going to react to being told he’s now an irresponsible and irrational father. Not well, I’d guess. But if it goes well- that’s a BIG if- we’ll see where we go from there.” Stiles says, and Simon nods.

Hopefully, it won’t go to all Hell, but if nothing else, maybe he can convince Lucifer to try to terrorize a seemingly godless creature.

We’ll see, Stiles thinks.

We’ll see.

Chapter 4: Chapter 4

Summary:

Will meets the rest of his roommates.

Will wakes slowly, filtering in his surroundings.

It was quiet, although if he focused, he could hear voices talking downstairs.

His body ached less than before, and his headache was nearly gone. Although, he found what had likely awakened him- the faint scent of something delicious cooking downstairs.

For some reason, it made him hungrier than he’d been in a while, and so Will got up, pressing a hand to his stomach reassuringly.

He took off his jacket and put on a blue flannel over his t-shirt, grabbing his glasses from beside the bed.

He remembered the young man- Stiles?- warning him that others would be overbearing.

Not that he cared much, at this point. Will had heard all there was to be said and could care less about what these people might have to say about him.

 

Downstairs, Will followed the noises and smells towards the kitchen, finding Stiles standing over several dishes and pans.

He was looking out towards another room, gesturing his hand as he spoke.

“Yeah, but if you do end up choosing to do online courses, don’t overload yourself with classes. Then you’d be up at all hours of the day just trying to finish your schoolwork and you have no free time at all, and there goes our movie marathon on weekends.” He says, turning towards the fridge, but stopping when he saw Will just standing there.

He smiles, waving a hand before digging into the fridge and pulling out a covered bowl.

“Hey! Good to see you up, dinner should be done in a few.” He says, point towards the other room. “Feel free to find a seat, and don’t be afraid to snap if someone’s getting too in your space, it happens a lot.”

Will says, “Thank you.” Before going through to where Stiles had pointed.

In the next room, there were three people seated around a large dining table, talking with one another.

The older gentleman stood and pulled a chair out from beside him, and gestured a hand for Will to sit. The two others look over at him but keep talking with each other.

So Will takes the seat.

The man offers his hand once Will looks up again, and Will shakes it briefly.

“Anthony Bowman, but just call me Tony.” The man says in a strong southern accent, and turns to look at the others across the table from them.

“Mr. Chatterbox over there is Simon,” Tony points to the younger man with scruffy black hair and a graphic tee that said ‘Keep calm and Bite Me’. Will figured it was some reference, since the words were under a smiley face with fangs.

“And the lovely Miss Emma, of course. Don’ worry about it none, We're all pleased to meet ya.” Tony says warmly, and the young woman grins.

Will introduces himself to what he presumes to be the rest of the people in the household.

“Will.” He says simply, and Tony nods.

“Well, welcome, Will. I’m happy to say, we all are mighty glad you came to stay with us here.”

“Yes, and Stiles is simply waiting for your word to smother you in attention and care, the nut. As if looking after Simon and himself is easy.” Emma says snarkily.

“I don’t need-” Will starts, but Emma waves a hand and interrupts him.

“We know you don’t want help, but neither did any of us, and Stiles can say with certainty that we all needed it. I can tell you do, you are trying to look after multiple people at once, you certainly deserve some help.” She says, and Will sits in quiet silence.

Magnus was right, then, about this being a better choice for him.

The look of steadfast confidence and compassion as Emma spoke, and Will knew that Stiles was not someone you would stand against, not if you had a single cell in your brain.

Will almost dared to hope for some peace for once in his life.

Almost.

 

“Alright everyone, dinner!” Stiles says, sweeping into the dining room with several plates of food.

Roasted vegetables, rolls, and mashed potatoes. The next time brought out two trays of meat, both of steak. With the last time, Stiles brought out plates, utensils, and a glass of red- something, which he set in front of Simon.

The others waited until Stiles had sat before looking to the plates of food in front of them.

“Blue plate has steak, grey plate has long pig.” He says coolly, and Will snaps is head in his direction.

The others started to dig in, avoiding the grey plate, but Will stares at him in shock.

He… what?

“...You?” He asks weakly, his voice cracking. Did Stiles…?

Stiles smirks, grabbing a roll and buttering it.

“A friend of mine is a Trickster, on top of other things. He detests abusers and killers, above all else. Don’t worry, no one was in question of morals.” He says, but frowns when Will makes no movements.

“Will, it’s likely that your kids are Ravenstag- if your going to continue to ignore yourself, in this matter. It’s as essential to your diet as coffee is to mine, and blood to Simon’s.” Stiles says, gesturing to where Simon is currently his best to not guzzle his- blood, apparently. White fangs rest around the rim of his glass, and he looks up with his pupils dilated, looking up briefly with an embarrassed grin.

Will hesitantly plates himself some of the people steak, wondering strangely if this is what it would have been like. To have known, and not be afraid of who he was dining with.

A hand, clenching his heart painfully at the thought. Not Hannibal’s as he’d thought it might be, although every ounce of his pain could be traced to him, surely.

He realizes his hunger as the first bite passes his lips, and Will does all he can to not inhale his food as fast as he could. All this time, and he’d found what caused his bone deep hunger.

 

Lack of people steak in his diet, apparently.

Everyone ate mostly in silence, but when the fervor of eating died down, Stiles spoke up again.

“I know that you’ve probably been poked, prodded, and dragged to doctor’s offices far too many times in your life, but if you wouldn’t be against it, I’ve spoken with a friend of mine, and he says he would be willing to make sure you and the babies are doing okay.” He says softly, and Will looks up.

Genuine concern finds Will wanting to agree to it, but he doesn’t say anything at first.

“Does he know?” Will finds himself asking instead, and Stiles nods with a smirk.

“About you being a dude? Or about the Supernatural?” Stiles asks, and Will slowly nods.

“Both.”

“Yeah,” Stiles says, “John knows enough about both of those. He’s known about the Supernatural for a year or so now, and he’s had a few Supernatural patients. He’s a good guy too, a good friend to me.” He snorts at a passing thought. “Although not as good a friend as he is to Sherlock, but that’s a whole different story.”

“Alright.” Will says, and Stiles grins.

“Great. I’ll let him know and figure out a time.” He says. “In the meantime, I have a call to make.” He says, excusing himself from the table, taking his dishes into the kitchen.

“So, kids huh? That ought to be fun.” Tony says, and Will watches Simon grin at Emma.

“I told you, it’s gregnant.” Simon says, and Emma giggles.

“PrEGaNanAnT!?!” She screeches, and Simon starts giggling too.

Tony rolls his eyes at them, shaking his head as he stands and takes his dishes into the kitchen.

“Hey Will, wanna watch an Alien movie Marathon with us?” Emma asks, and Simon grins as he blurs into the kitchen with the rest of the dishes.

“Oh! Um, I don’t know-” He says, before Simon is back.

“Oh come on, I doubt you’ve seen them. Come watch!” He says excitedly, before going into the living room, spouting off random movie trivia.

Emma shakes her head fondly before standing up, offering Will a hand.

With surprisingly more strength than he expected, Emma pulls him up and drags him towards the dark living room, the large TV already playing the commercials as they sit down.

Will curls up with one of the pillows and a blanket tossed over his feet by Emma, looking up to the screen, contented to stay and watch. Tony wanders in and sits on the opposite end of the couch, a small smile on his face and a huge bowl of popcorn on his lap.

Perhaps, for once, Will could do with some normality in his life, he thinks.

God knows he could do with some.

Chapter 5: Chapter 5

Summary:

Stiles has a conversation with Mycroft about his new roommate.

Stiles sits with his phone at his desk, waiting for Mycroft to pick up. After a few more seconds of the phone ringing, he does.

“Yes, this is Holmes. Is there something I may help you with?” Mycroft says droningly, and Stiles wants to sigh.

Right, time change was definitely a thing.

“Hey Mycroft, it’s Stiles. I have something that I need your help with.” Stiles says. “Has Magnus told you yet, about what’s been going on over here?” Stiles asks.

“Yes, I believe so, by way of other several High Warlocks. Fonce, Pravda, and Niebo have all contacted me, and Fonce informed me that he intended to contact at least Lagoa, perhaps others. This situation is a welcome distraction from the tedium for most, I think. Would you be willing to tell me more about what is going on? Anthea’s already gone out to collect information, but they haven’t returned as of yet.” Mycroft says, and Stiles agrees.

“A Ravenstag, the one claiming territory in Maryland and the surrounding areas, courted a mate, turned him, got him pregnant, and then left him for dead. From what Will told Magnus, Florence seems like a pretty likely location, based on the history of this particular Ravenstag.”

Silence followed his statement for several seconds.

“That is… I can see why so many High Warlocks are intrigued, if not outright interested.” Mycroft says, shock evident in his voice. “I will certainly look into it. In fact, I’ll talk with High Warlock Capire, in Rome. If anyone is going to find anything, Cassianus will be in the immediate area, and he would certainly want to know about this.” Mycroft says.

Stiles sighs in relief. “That’s great. Look, I’ll be bringing Will around to see John once I talk to him about looking Will over, and we could talk more, once we know more about this then.”

“Alright, that’s fine. I’ll speak with you in a few days then.”

Stiles left John an email, stating about Will’s health and condition visually, and asking him to email back in the morning.

 

Downstairs, Stiles finds Will seated amongst the others, watching the Nostromo crew exploring the wishbone ship as Simon whispers along the dialogue.

Sitting between Will and Tony, Stiles grabs a handful of popcorn from Tony and watches along with them, smiling to himself.

His home was a little fuller, and another listless soul was resting, if only for now.

Chapter 6: Chapter 6

Summary:

A trip to John and Sherlock's flat.

A few days later, and Stiles was waiting with Will for Mycroft to open a portal for them to John and Sherlock’s flat.

When a portal opened, Stiles gently ushered Will through and out the other side, John waiting in the flat with a small smile.

“Hello Stiles,” John says, before turning to Will. “You must be Will.” He says and offers his hand. “I’m John Watson.”

Will slowly takes the proffered hand and shakes it, John not discouraged by Will not looking up even once during the greeting.

Mycroft comes out of the kitchen towards them with a small scowl on his face, Sherlock following smugly behind.

Sherlock flops down into his chair, ignoring everyone else in the room.

Like a smug cat, but more human shaped.

“Come over here and take a seat please, I have just a few questions for you before we do anything else, alright?” John asks, leading Will over to the couch. Mycroft looks to Stiles before heading back to the kitchen, gesturing for Stiles to follow.

 

To his surprise, they were not alone in the kitchen, a man Stiles recognized from the Council meeting last year standing there waiting.

“New York Senior Warlock Stilinski, this is Rome’s High Warlock, Cassianus Capire. Cassianus, this is Stiles. He and Magnus were the ones who started this… manhunt.” Mycroft says, and Stiles shakes hands with him.

“Cassianus is fine, this isn’t a formal meeting,” Cassianus says calmly. “Mycroft has explained what is going on, and I want to state my approval for this search. I have no interest in Lecter remaining in Italy any longer than it’s necessary to find him.” Cassianus says, disdain clear in his voice. “His actions have proven violent in the past, and I want no part of that within the area that I offer protection to. I’ve found no disappearances, thankfully, but that doesn’t mean much.”

Mycroft nods. “Unfortunately so. The FBI have only dozens of the no doubt many more deaths accounted to him, he simply might be covering his tracks better now.”

Stiles scoffs. “Yeah, now that he’s no longer courting. A lot of Ravenstags are caught that way. It’s much easier to find someone who wants to be found, although it usually attracts the wrong kind of attention.”

“Indeed,” Mycroft says, “that’s true. It’s likely how Lecter would have been caught if he had not for blamed Will for the murders instead.”

And that was another thing about Lecter that Stiles did not like. Was it even worth it to be looking for this guy? Will seemed heartbroken, yes, but it did little to downplay what Lecter did to him in the first place.

“Not much, but I have a place to start. I have a contact in MI6 who is an expert in surveillance type tracking. I intend to call in a favor and confirm Lecter’s presence in Florence, perhaps even get him tracked until we decide to take action.” Mycroft says.

“Contact me when you do, my Senior aide is just as interested as I and will observe from a distance once we have a location. A residence would be best if you can get it.” Cassianus says cooly, and Mycroft nods.

“Of course. Both of you will be informed immediately.” He says, before turning to watch as John comes into the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a sigh.

“Well?” Mycroft asks. John looks up in question. “You left him with Sherlock, didn’t you.”

John nods. “They’re getting along just fine Mycroft, it’s fine.” He assures with a wave of his hand before turning to Stiles. “From what I understand about how Will’s biology differs from other pregnant- and healthy- women, he has a need for several nutrient supplements, along with a higher recommendation for red meats than during a human pregnancy. If at all possible, at least one meal per day.” John says, ticking off fingers. “He needs to take it as easy as possible and rest often. This is heavy stress upon his body. The rapid change and sudden pregnancy are similar to pregnancy right after puberty, which often are high stress.” John tells Stiles, and he nods.

“Okay. I’ll talk to Gabriel about the diet thing, I think he’s going to want to meet the person he’s providing those meals for. I am willing to make sure he gets what he needs.” Stiles says soothingly, and John nods sharply.

“See to it. I would recommend trying to find an obstetrician who’s in the Downworld, or at least knows about it. I am more than willing to help, but I’m no specialist, and Will needs someone who knows what they are doing.” John says, and Stiles nods.

 

Sherlock decides to interrupt, calling to Mycroft from the sitting room.

“Mycroft! Why is your mobile ringing?” He calls loudly, and Mycroft reaches for his coat pocket, shock on his face, then anger when he finds it empty.

“Why do you have my mobile?!?” He shouts back, striding out of the kitchen.

Stiles looks to John, who rolls his eyes.

“Half of the time, I don’t even know if I should care anymore.” John says tiredly, following Mycroft out of the kitchen much more leisurely.

Cassianus shrugs. “I’ll take my leave then. I expect to hear more from you both soon.” He says cheerfully, before waving and portalling away, leaving Stiles alone in the kitchen.

 

Out in the sitting room, Stiles finds Mycroft holding the phone on speaker, glaring at Sherlock from across the room, Sherlock glaring back from his chair.

“-I hadn’t expected to hear from you for a while yet, Quinn, are you sure you’re not a seer?” Mycroft says jokingly.

A snort comes from the phone. “No, just smart enough to know when you’re up to something. What do you need Mycroft?”

“Nothing much, brother mine, just to find someone.”

Another snort. “Myc, that’s practically my job anyhow.” Some shuffling comes through the speaker. “It’s not anyone who doesn’t want to be found by chance, is it?”
“You are quite the best at what you do, looking after that agent of yours.” Mycroft says, not answering the question.

“No need to flatter, Myc, I could have guessed what you wanted anyway. Who and where?” The voice asks, and Mycroft responds.

“Hannibal Lecter, no doubt under a false I.D,” Mycroft says. “Italy would be my first guess, Japan my second, though I doubt the second one will truly hold anything to find.”

Typing comes from the speaker, and Stiles finally moves from the doorway from the kitchen, sitting by Will on the couch, smiling at Will as he sits.

The voice hums. “Well, I see why you would want to find him. Any other reasons the outstanding amount of deaths he’s wanted for?” He asks, typing continuing.

“Yes. I’m at Sherlock’s flat, his pregnant mate sitting across from me on the couch.”

The typing pauses for a brief second before continuing again.

“Well, that would do it.” He says. “Alright, running facial recognition within the last week in both places. It might take a bit…”

Sherlock speaks up.

“How is that agent anyways? His days since death counter been reset?” He asks lazily.

“...Twice. And the number counter of items he’s broken/lost is almost two dozen higher too.”

Sherlock chuckles. “Oh indeed? And how is that going for him?”

A huff from the speaker. “Currently not being spoken to, though he is trying. He keeps leaving a mug of tea on my desk.”

A beeping sound brings more typing and an ‘aha!’ from the voice.

“Got him! Your first guess was right, Mycroft, I’ve got over three dozen matches in roughly a six square kilometer radius in Florence, half of them from around one block in particular.” The voice says. “ I’ve got a track on his false I.D. He uses it anywhere, It’ll ping his location for me. Nothing from recently though, the most recent recognition was a cafe, nearly four days ago.”

Mycroft sighs. “Alright. Send me the coordinates of the block area, I’ll be sending in Anthea to see if we can get better detail on this.”

More typing. “Alright. If I see Anthea needs backup, perhaps I can convince James to help if he wants me to speak to him again.”

“I doubt Anthea will be needing help, but please, feel free.” Mycroft says.

“Alright, I have to go. Here comes James. Goodbye, Myc.” He says, and the call ends.

 

“Who was that Mycroft?” John asks coldly, beating Stiles to the question.

“Our youngest brother, Quinten. He works in MI6 as head of Technology and R&R center.” Mycroft says.

John gives Sherlock a dirty look.

Stiles stands suddenly, clapping his hands together, then rubbing them.

“Alright then, Will, what do you say head back?” Offering a hand to Will and helping him stand up.

“Call me soon Mycroft, when Anthea has something for us.” Stiles says quickly, heading out into the hall before summoning a portal, voices raising behind him.

“Interesting bunch.” Will says, before heading through the portal cautiously.

Stiles shakes his head with a smile.

“You can say that again.”

Chapter 7: Chapter 7

Summary:

Emma drags Will and Simon off shopping, and Stiles talks with a few different people.

The bed shifts suddenly, throwing Simon up and waking him abruptly.

“Gah, what!? Whoos zat!?” He mumbles, trying to fend off the intruder weakly with one arm.

“Wake up! We are going out today!” Emma yells, yanking down the covers.

“...Mmmm, noo, don’t wann..a.” He says, turning over, tucking his face into his pillow. He didn't want to get up, it felt early still, so it was before noon, at least. His skin would crawl sometimes in the daylight, and he hated the feeling of the wrongness.

Emma huffs, throwing a shirt from across the room into his face.

“C’mon, I got Will to agree to go out, and I want one normal looking person to fend off the normies.”

Simon snorts tiredly, sitting up and reluctantly tugging on the shirt.

“What’d you mean?” Simon mutters questioningly, then jerking a hand in front of his face, catches the jeans thrown in the direction of his face. Again.

“You know perfectly well what. It’s not like you normally see a dude that’s almost five months pregnant.” She says and mutters something under breath that even he couldn't hear.

Simon realizes, quietly, that she had a point.

“And Stiles made you a raspberry shake to go- he’s gone off to California or something, he said he won’t be back for a day or so.”

Nice! Raspberry was one of his favorites. Gak, bribery. And it was working too.

“K’ fine, you have me convinced. Where are we going?” He asks her. Emma simply grins and turns towards the door.

Oh no, he knows that look. He jumps up, Emma racing him out the door and down the stairs, barely winning against him.

“I win, go get your Slurpee, Batman!” She says with a cheer.

Will simply raises a brow, a resigned look on his face as Simon walks by, and Simon gives him a small smile.

 

Will sighs, pulling himself out of the Cruiser, giving himself a moment to balance himself.

What had convinced him to agree to this outing, he had no idea, but the almost giddy faces of the two teenagers walking with him made him feel- almost normal somehow.

Nevermind the fact one was a vampire and the other a shifter. Yet of them, Will still managed to be the weird one.

At almost 20 weeks, few of his clothes still managed to fit, loathe as he was to wear maternal clothes, he doubted much of his own clothing would fit with twins later on.

Walking with them, Simon beside him, eyes flicking around, clutching the cup that smelled of fruit and the tang of iron-blood, no doubt- to his chest. Emma, critically eyeing the stores as they walked through the mall.

Will wondered idly what Hannibal’s reaction would be to a mall. Probably suggest something much more- well.

“Here we are.” Emma says, turning them into a large department store, directing them through towards the maternity section.

Ah, shopping. Torture to endure even greater than bad press- no, don’t think it, the sting of hurt, of betrayal- Will shakes his head, trying to clear his mind.

 

Stiles sighs, swirling the long since cold cup of coffee in his hand. Lily stands beside him, a paper bag in each of her hands.

“Some blood, and the rest of the little one’s things.” She says, raising each bag as she tells their contents, placing the bags down on the ground. “Do not ask what it took to get them, Raphael has guarded the room himself for periods of time, snapping at anyone who came to talk to him.” She lets out an irritated hiss.

“This would be a lot easier if they both weren’t so stubborn.” Stiles agrees, and Lily rolls her eyes.

“Yes, but knowing that is not going to help change it. Magnus agreed to help break the bond between the little one and Camille.” She spits out Camille’s name. “It will hurt, but the sooner, the better. Camille has no right to the little one, and she will use him if she can find him.”

Stiles shakes his head. “Not in my house, she won’t. It’s warded to Hell and back, almost literally, and I have several beings a phone call away and willing to help.” Stiles says.

Stiles smirks at the idea that pops into his head.“Wait, I have just the thing.” He says gleefully, pulling out his phone. Lily tilts her head in curiosity, but Stiles raises a finger, telling her to wait for an explanation. She concedes, giving him a pointed look.

“This is Sam Winchester, what can I do for you?” Sam says after picking up, a bit tired sounding.

“Hey Sam, its Stiles.” Stiles greets.

“Stiles! Hey, what’s up?” Sam asks.

“I actually have something for you guys,” Stiles says.

“Okay, uh, give me a second,” Sam says, leaning back from the phone, but yelling for Dean and Castiel to come and listen. Some shuffling sounds in the background and a muffled voice.

“Okay, you’re on speaker, what’d you need Stiles?” Sam asks again once the noises settle down.

“I got a bit of a Vampire problem that I think you guys could handle,” Stiles tells them.

“What kind of bloodsuckers we talking about here?” Dean asks.

“Two fanged. An ex-Clan leader to one of the Clans in New York, a Vampire by the name of Camille Belcourt. Been a pain in the ass, and the reason Simon got turned.” Stiles says.

“That’s the kid from the boat, right? Dark hair, dark eyes, in the middle of dying?” Dean says.

“Yeah, that’s Simon. He’s a sweetheart, didn’t deserve getting dragged into the Downworld by his Shadowhunter friend.” Stiles agrees.

“What about this Vampire we seek is different from others?” Castiel asks.

Stiles sighs. “Not much, except she’s going to be hard to find. I bet I can get some hair or something if that’d help.” He says.

“Yeah, it would. Is this a hunt, or…” Sam asks, trailing off.

“It’s a hunt,” Stiles confirms. “We just need a bit of her blood to end a bond she has with Simon, is all.”

Stiles’ eyes flick up, and Lily nods in firm agreement.

“Alright, well I’ll get what I can on her over to you within a day or two, maybe less if I can manage.”

“Great, I’ll see what we can find before then. See you, Stiles.” Sam says, Dean also saying goodbye in the background.

Lily nods her head to his phone. “Hunters?” She asks.

Stiles nods. “Yeah, the best. Winchesters and Co.” Lily’s eyes widen.

“You-” Lily stops. “Why do I ask? You know everyone.” She shakes her head. “I can get these things for you, the hair and such. Camille left much of her things when she waltzed out of the DuMort.”

“Great, I’ll drop these off for Simon and head off again, I want to check in with Mycroft, it’s been a couple of days since we last spoke,” Stiles says taking the bags.

“I will send what I find to Magnus, he will no doubt confirm their authenticity if Camille had thought that far ahead.”

“See ya around, Lily.”

One more stop to make, and the one that would be the longest, Stiles thought to himself.

Oh well. He liked these people anyhow, so he didn’t mind.

Chapter 8: Chapter 8

Summary:

Unfortunately, Beacon Hills was rather in need of Stiles expertise fixing things, again.

Emma was finishing her breakfast when Stiles thuds down the stairs, and she looks up as Stiles walks in, heading directly for the kitchen.

“Heyo, Stiles. What’s up?” Emma asks loudly, Stiles poking his head out of the doorway.

“Not much.” He mutters, going back into the kitchen, cabinets opening and the coffee machine sputtering to life.

Emma waits for Stiles to finish, coming out of the kitchen, coffee mug in hand a minute later, sitting with a sigh across from her.

Stiles sips his coffee for a few moments before speaking.

“I’m going to have to go again, more work stuff came up.” He says, and Emma tilts her head.

“Is that bad?” She asks.

He shakes his head. “Not normally, no, but Chris called me just a little bit ago,” He says. “Something’s up with Beacon Hills. The Hale Pack is on edge, and won’t say anything to Chris or Peter about what’s going on, and it’s bothering Chris.” He says.

Emma nods her head. “That… doesn’t sound good.” She agrees. “And Peter doesn’t know what is wrong either?” She asks.

She had met Peter and Chris a couple of times, Peter a few more times than Chris. They were interesting, and she thought their personalities balanced each other out well.

Peter was a bit all over the place and had a dark sense of humor that Emma herself had, and his wolf didn’t make her nervous like other wolf shifters tended to do. Chris was a bit more serious than Peter, but was kind, for a hunter. Good sensibilities.

She liked them both, and considered them part of the Sleuth, due to their relationship with Stiles. Like uncles, sort of. Stiles was strangely unaware of his ability to act as a Boar- as an Alpha. Leader of their little group.

Stiles shook his head, drawing her out of her thoughts.

“Mmm, no, and Peter had been asking around too. Isaac doesn’t know, so either Hale is being overly cautious with what he does know, or that they don’t really know either,” he says. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s the latter of the two.” He huffs, staring out of the window to the patio broodingly.

“Ah, I know that look. Don’t like this Hale guy, do you?” She says. Stiles doesn’t respond for a few moments.

“Liked him too much, once. Ended that alongside all my other ‘friendships’ at the time.” He mutters darkly, putting friendship in air quotation marks.

Emma winces. “Sounds like you’re going to be having the time of your life over there.” She says sarcastically.

“Absolutely,” He agrees with just as much sarcasm, “I love fending off large, brutish puppies on four and a half hours of sleep.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” She says sincerely. “I would offer to come with, but I agreed to go check out the area around campus with Simon today, have a good look around and get a feel for the area.” She tells him.

Stiles smiles softly. “I would rather join you guys if I could. I’m glad he’s taking that step. Thanks for offering to go with him.”

Emma grins, shoving the rest of her omelet in her mouth with her fork. “Hey, I know how this is important for him, I’m not gonna bail on him now. He’s like the annoying younger brother I never knew I needed.” She says.

Stiles shakes his head. “Alright, I better get going if I’m gonna stay ahead of the weather.” He says, getting up and walking into the kitchen.

“You’re a nerd!” Emma shouts to him, and he grins as he walks back out and into the hall with a travel mug of coffee.

“Hah, like you get to say you’re not!” He shouts back.

Emma just grins, listening as the front door slams a few seconds later.

 

Stiles knocks on Chris’s door and blanks his face when Allison swings open the door, not looking at her as she starts to speak.

“What can I…” She stops, realizing who it is at the door with shock. “Stiles?” She asks in disbelief. “What are you doing here?” She asks but continues before Stiles has a chance to speak. “Oh my God, Scott has been so-” she says, and Stiles cuts her off, his irritation growing.

“I’m here to talk to Chris, Allison. He here?” He asks, and She stares in shock, before nodding yes.

He sidesteps Allison, walking into the house.

“Chris! Yo!” He shouts, and Chris steps out from what looks like a kitchen area.

“Stiles! Hey, you got here quick.” He says, and Stiles doesn’t mind too much when Chris hugs him. Chris realizes what he did with a surprised look on his face.

“Sorry,” He says apologetically, “Peter’s-”

“Real big on hugs, I know.” He interrupts with a wave of his hand. “You're fine, Chris. I didn’t mind.”

“Well,” Chris says slowly, watching as Allison enters the room, “Peter’s not back yet, but he went to set up a meeting on neutral ground for us.”

“Wonderful,” Stiles says, clapping his hands together. “I think I’m going to go visit my Dad at the Station, see how he’s been. Just call me when Peter gets back, I’ll head on over to wherever we’re going to get this thing started.” He says, walking past Allison, waving Chris goodbye.

 

Driving to the Station, Stiles thinks to himself that what was next to come was going to be annoying as, well, Hell, he guessed. At least, that was what he’d heard from Lucifer.

If Allison’s reaction to him reappearing was to question his motives on ‘leaving for so long’, and not Scott’s shitty friendship skills, then oh boy, was this going to be fun.

Well, at least he might be able to spook Erica and Boyd again. It was rather amusing, afterward, thinking back on when he used one of the basic offense spells Magnus had taught him to keep Erica from trying anything stupid. Their reaction was greater than his action, he thought amusedly.

 

Pulling up to the station, he hops out of his cab, locking his door and turning on the wards.

Wouldn’t want any of the Hale Pack to try anything funny. In fact, he’d parked so he could see if they did, at least from his Dad’s office. He snickered at the thought of anyone trying to get past Magnus’ defense wards.

Jordan Parrish was at the front desk, a newer Deputy his Dad had talked about a few months ago during one of their chats.

He walks past, waiting to see if the new Deputy knew enough to not try to stop him entering his Dad’s office. He doesn’t, and Stiles knocks on the door, opening it to find his Dad doing some paperwork.

“Parrish, for the last time, what-” His Dad stops when he looks up. “Stiles!” He greets and Stiles meets his Dad halfway around the desk for a hug.

“Hey, Dad.” Stiles greets, and his Dad sits back down.

“What’s up kiddo?” He asks, leaning back in his chair. “We talked just a few days ago. What are you doing here in town?”

Stiles lets out a puff of air. “Same reason as last time, something’s up with the Hale Pack, and they don’t know how to deal with it themselves. Chris called to ask me to come and work my magic.” He says. He thinks for a moment. “Pun intended.”

His Dad shakes his head with a smile, before letting his smile fade.

“Alright, tell me what’s up this time, I wanna know if I’m going to be getting any phone calls about this.” His Dad says.

So Stiles settles against the wall next to the window and proceeds to tell him what he knows.

If it just so happens to be the best vantage point to see his truck, well, his Dad didn't need to know that.

Notes:

Anyone guess what Emma is? And congrats if you caught the movie reference! I’d love to hear from you all on your guesses!

Chapter 9: Chapter 9

Summary:

Stiles confronts the Hale Pack with Chris and Peter about what's been happening in Beacon Hills.

The meeting place that Peter texted Stiles was, unsurprisingly, an abandoned old building in the downtown area of Beacon Hills.

Parking his truck across the street, he noted that Derek’s Camaro, Lydia’s Prius, Chris’ SUV, and the Toyota that Peter often drove were all parked along the street as well.

Making his way inside, fingers itching to smooth over his dagger in a familiar gesture of reassurance, he finds Chris and Peter standing together near the frontish doors, and pretty much all of the Hale Pack standing opposite of them.

Hale, of course, Boyd and Erica, Allison and Scott, Isaac, Lydia and Jackson, and another Wolf that Stiles doesn’t know, though she looks familiar, in a way.

Stiles nods at Chris, standing shoulder to shoulder with Peter as he talks to him.

“All right, I’m here. Let’s start, shall we?” He says, turning a little to look over at Chris. “Chris Argent, you officiated a concern statement about the Hale Pack’s recent behavior. Anything, in particular, you want to bring up, or is this a general concern statement?” He asks.

Chris nods to him. “Yes, Senior Warlock Stilinski, there is.” He looks over to Hale.

“Derek, I know there’s something going on. Something your Pack isn’t able to handle, and I want to know what’s going on. You’ve kept us out of the loop long enough.”

Hale opens his mouth to speak, but Peter coughs, and all eyes go to him.

“Yes, about that,” Peter says.

Stiles looks to him with a questioning look. Peter gives the barest hint of a smirk, and Stiles nods.

Peter knows what’s wrong, and plans to share in front of the Hale Pack. Something Hale probably has been avoiding.

Excellent.

“The Wolf Council has been… Concerned, to say the least, about what has been going on in Beacon Hills. The scents of several Alphas- what’s been bothering the Pack- have been left around Beacon Hills for a couple of months now.” He says, giving Hale a look. “What Hale has been refusing to acknowledge is that the Council is… doubting his ability as a competent Alpha.”

Several voices begin to speak at once, a jumble of disagreement and outrage, Hale glaring silently at Peter, and Stiles raises his hand in a gesture for silence. All comply, except the unnamed she Wolf.

“Derek is doing his best, Peter, that can’t be the reason they’re here.” She spits out. Hisses, really.

Stiles tilts his head in consideration. The Alpha Pack was no small matter. If they were here in Beacon Hills, the Council of Wolves indeed had some serious concerns about the leadership of the Hale Pack.

Not something he could really interfere with, but he’d see where this meeting went anyways.

“And why do you say that, Beta…” Stiles asks, pausing at her name.

“Cora. Cora Hale.” She says, a hint of a growl in her voice.

Ah. That would explain why she looked familiar. The only other living Hale.

Stiles looks at her. “What makes you say that, Beta Hale? The Council’s not to be taken lightly, and decisions like these are not made easily. Thought and consideration are taken before sending any sort of representation from the Council.”

“Mom was a part of the Council, they wouldn’t be questioning our Pack.” She states as if her word was law.

Well, it’s unfortunate for her that Stiles was trained by a Downworlder lawyer, wasn’t it? He smirks.

“Yes, but your brother is not Talia Hale, and neither are you, for that matter,” He says, “And your brother is not a member of the Council, nor did he receive formal- or informal, for that matter- training about being an Alpha,” Stiles says, turning to look around at the others gathered around her.
“And while your brother was not responsible for the turning of Betas Whittemore or McCall, he was responsible for Betas Lahey, Reyes, and Boyd.” He states, looking between the Betas in mention. Stiles snaps his eyes back to Beta Hale. “More than half his Wolves, no? And the training he gives them is… insufficient.” Stiles drawls.

He snorts. “I’ve seen a Warlock give a Vampire more efficient training than your brother gives his Pack, and those aren’t even close to the same species.”

Which was technically true, although Raphael wasn’t being anywhere near a good leader right now either, his point was still made.

“And what gives you the right to come in here and say this?” Cora growls, and Isaac’s hands twitch. Stiles eyes him out of the corner of his field of view, tapping his fingers to his thigh.

Isaac was clearly fed up with Stiles’ suggestions to stay with the Hale Pack, and Stiles was waiting for the text saying he wanted to move in. Stiles didn’t think it might be in person, but whatever.

Stiles focuses back to Beta Hale. “The right of my title,” He says lowly, voice raising a little in volume as he speaks. “As Senior Warlock of this region of the Americas. As the right of my past, as former Pack adjacent. As the right of the leader of not only of my Clan but my Sleuth, my Pack.” He growls back, and he sees the way that several of the Hale Pack step back from him, Isaac moving closer, stepping behind him and Peter, standing defiantly away from Hale, chin, and eyes raised to glare back.

“I have every right, Beta Hale, as the leader of my own Pack. No Council or Clan has dared question me, and I’m not even a Wolf, not a shifter of any kind. I am respected for my actions, your brother is doubted for his. You better believe it that the Alpha Pack is here, Beta,” He huffs, “No one is going to let you think otherwise when Alpha Deucalion tears this Pack from your brother and replaces him with an Alpha who actually deserves a Pack.” He says, tone final.

Utter silence, the only sound faint breathing and the cars passing by outside.

He shakes his head with a sigh. “There’s nothing you can do, except hope that Alpha Deucalion chooses to make the process as painless as possible.” He nods to Chris. “There’s nothing either of us can do, Chris, at this point there’s nothing to do but wait.”

Stiles looks to Isaac, gently touching his upper arm. “You sure?” He asks.

He hardly needed to ask.

Isaac nods, not looking at him, but instead over his shoulder, to Hale. “I’m damn sure. I’ve been waiting over a year for this.” He says, cooly.

Stiles smiles at him, letting the Beta lean against his shoulder.

Peter grins, coming around to Isaac’s other side. “Welcome to the Pack.” He says gleefully, ignoring the other Hales glaring at him.

Chris nods, a resigned look on his face.

“I hadn’t thought that it had gotten that bad, to have the Alpha Pack here. But you’re right, there’s nothing I can do about it.” He says.

Allison’s shocked ‘Dad’ had Chris looking up.

“Allison, you knew about this, at least in part. I gave you every lesson on the Council’s, the etiquette of formalities. There’s nothing we can do! If we interfere, the Hunter Council will send an Inquisitor after us next! A Shadowhunter, Allison, you do not fuck around with matters like these!” He hisses, and Peter nods.

Stiles speaks. “Your father can’t do anything, Allison, and neither can I. He'd be Inquired after if he interferes with this, and you will be too. Your father will be forced to disassociate your name with the Argent family name if you insist on trying to act against the Alpha Pack. Inquisitors are permitted to use lethal force when it's necessary.”

“We can’t just give up on Derek, I mean, he’s not great, but he is trying,” Allison says.

“You can, and you probably will have to. I respect the choices of Alpha Deucalion, and the Council. Don’t fight the matter too much, if they think only a little bit of teaching is necessary, Alpha Hale may very well be allowed to return to Beacon Hills and become Alpha here once more.” Stiles says, nodding to Chris.

“Argent, I bid you goodbye. Emissary Martin, farewell and good luck.” He says to Chris, then Lydia, and then leaves, Peter and Isaac close behind him.

Stiles looks to Peter as the stand around his truck. “You were just waiting to say something, weren’t you?” He asks. Peter grins.

“Of course, what do you take me for?” He asks. “I spoke with Alpha Kali, who I encountered on accident out on a run one night about a month ago. She was aggressive until I explained I wasn’t from Derek’s Pack, but yours. She calmed a bit after that. Your name does wonders for that sort of thing, apparently.” He explains.

Stiles nods at the explanation, before turning to Isaac. “You have anything you want to stop by and get from the-” He asks, but Isaac shakes his head.

“Peter told me what he was going to say, so I grabbed my stuff yesterday.” He says sheepishly, and Peter nods.

“Your bag's in my trunk, give me a minute.” He says, walking off towards his car.

Stiles lets Isaac have a few moments to think in silence before speaking again.

“You good?” He asks softly, and Isaac looks up at him.

Isaac smiles- a bright, genuine smile. “Yeah. Better than good, actually,” He says. “Been wanting to leave here for a while now.”

Stiles smiles, then chuckles. “And thanks to Peter, you even got a dramatic exit! How nice of him!” He says sarcastically.

Isaac giggles. “Right?” He says.

Stiles puts an arm around Isaac’s shoulders, letting the Beta be scented to his heart’s content.

“I hope you like roommates, you’re going to have plenty, besides the ones you know already,” Stiles tells him, and Isaac nods into his shoulder.

“Alright, here you go cub, pup. See you in a few days, hmm? It’s been a bit since I visited anyways.” Peter says, handing Isaac a duffle bag.

Stiles unlocks his cab and gestures for Isaac to go and get in.

“See you then, Peter.” He says, waving as Peter heads back to his car.

Stiles hops up and starts his truck, looking to Isaac, sitting contentedly in the passenger seat, quietly overwhelmed at the smell of Stiles all around.

Stiles shakes his head, and pulls around, planning to stop by the Station and say goodbye to his Dad before heading out of town again.

Well, that was easier than he thought it was going to be, and no blood was shed, even.

Stiles reminded himself to check the high school registrations in Denver when he gets home.

Chapter 10: Chapter 10

Summary:

Isaac gets settled in, and Stiles is called to visit London.

Stiles and Isaac arrive at the house late the next day, Peter following them over directly to the house in his own car.

Stiles unlocks the door to the house, calling out as he enters.

“Yo, anyone home?” Stiles shouts, and faint responses come from upstairs and from the living room.

He ushers Isaac and Peter inside, footsteps thudding closer, Simon and Emma barreling down the stairs and towards them.

Simon and Emma tackle Isaac and his bags to the ground, the three of them laughing as Isaac weakly struggles to wrestle them off him, but happily scenting them both.

“Isaac! Did you come to stay this time?!” Emma asks him excitedly, and Isaac nods with a huge grin to the two of them.

The three of them had been near inseparable when Isaac had visited during the summer and had gotten up to plenty of things together during his stay.

Stiles shakes his head fondly at the three of them, leaving them and Peter to go check on Will.

 

Will sits in the living room, a small smile on his face, a hand resting on his stomach over his shirt, feet tucked under a blanket. He looks up as Stiles enters the room, his glasses folded on the coffee table, looking to his face for a few seconds before looking back down at the floor.

Stiles sits down on the other end of the couch across from him.

“You okay?” He asks softly, and Will nods, his smile growing a touch wider.

“I felt something today.” He says softly, rubbing his stomach with small circles. “I asked John and he said one of them just had hiccups.” He chuckles softly.

Will looks up to him again, briefly. “Seems you have a habit of collecting strays, I hear.” He says, head tilted, listening to the sounds from the hallway.

Stiles snorts. “Yeah, I think I do. Least most of ‘em can be house trained.” The indignant shout from the hallway makes him chuckle.

Will looks almost distant, and Stiles remembers that Will has a fondness for dogs. The look says more an old wound than a fond memory though, and Stiles wonders what else had happened in Will’s already pretty shit sounding life.

Stiles smiles solemnly at him, before asking, “Want some tea? I think I’m gonna make some.”

Will nods. “Yeah.”

 

Stiles goes to the kitchen and starts the tea kettle, looking down the hall to see Simon, Isaac, and Emma drag a vaguely amused Peter excitedly up the stairs.

Stiles leans against the counter, thinking about Will’s reaction. He’d have to ask around, maybe see what he could find about Will. Anything to help with Hannibal or to help Will feel better than just okay for once. Anthea has been following Hannibal off and on again for nearly a month now, with not too much to show for it.

He sets the tea down next to Will a couple of minutes later, turning around and heading up to his study/workspace. He’d have to see what he could dig up.

 

Stiles was a bit closer, an hour or so later, or so he thought, at least. He'd ended up looking on the website of the deceased journalist, and found a few things, besides horrible tact or respect for privacy. Will had owned a couple of dogs and hadn't gotten them back after his prison stay. Which kinda sucked, actually.

And by a couple, he meant seven or so. But he understood preferring animal to human contact. And somehow it still had managed to end poorly for Will.

 

A phone call broke his focus, and he checked the caller I.D. before answering. It was Mycroft.

“Senior Warlock Stilinski, how can I be of assistance?” He asks cheerfully, heading downstairs to the kitchen. He needed some coffee to continue socializing today. Mycroft didn't call unless it was something he considered important. Usually.

“Amusing. Well, Senior Warlock Stilinski, I have something you can do for me If you don’t mind. See, Sherlock is being childish- as usual, whenever I ask him to do something for me, and Anthea is rather busy following after Hannibal.”

“Okay then, what’s up?” Stiles asks. The coffee steaming as he listens, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Demon sightings, apparently. I would already be going to handle it myself, but I am at MI6 to visit Quentin today.”

“Alright. Did you get anything else, or was it an anonymous sighting?”

Mycroft sighs quietly. “Anonymous,” He says, “But if there is a Demon that we should actually be worried about, I know someone in London who would know about it.”

“Alright then, have fun threatening your brother’s coworkers,” Stiles says, then hangs up.

Coffee to go then it was.

His phone buzzes with two addresses and the name of the informant and Stiles goes back upstairs and grabs his Demon kit- salt, holy water, matches, and his dagger and sleeve holster. Straps the holster on and pulls his red jacket over it, picking up his coffee and heading up to Simon’s room.

 

Voices come from the room, he knocks before pushing the door open farther and pokes his head inside.

Simon, Isaac, Emma were all talking to Peter, who still looked amused as they all talked him through the controls for Minecraft, chattering to each other as they played.

“Nononono, get it! Get it!” Isaac screeches, and Simon laughs at him running from the skeletons on the split screens.

“Why haven’t you picked up a sword from the chest, even Peter’s already got that figured out already!” Simon replies, gesturing to Peter's character with the controller, and indeed, Peter was fending for himself just fine.

Stiles clears his throat to get their attention. “Hey guys, so Mycroft’s got a thing he wanted me to look into, Demons or something. Might be gone for a bit,” He says, “There’s plenty of leftover burgers still, and there’s stuff for breakfast too.” Stiles looks to Simon.

“Gabe's supposed to be visiting later, don’t forget to say hi.” He tells him. Simon nods in response, turning back to the game, the others turning back too.

Simon disliked it when they talked too much about his dietary habits, though no one in the house cared except him. Stiles respected how Simon felt about it, but he wouldn’t let Simon try and forget to take care of himself.

“Okay, see you guys when I see ya, I don’t think this should take too long,” Stiles says, waving them goodbye, several shouts goodbye following him out of the room.

He heads out, looking at the addresses again before portaling over to Sherlock and John’s.

Notes:

Can anyone guess who Stiles ends up meeting in London? It has to do with the Demon sighting!

Chapter 11: Chapter 11

Summary:

Stiles heads off to meet with Mycroft's informant, who isn't quite what he expected.

Stiles arrives in the entryway to Sherlock and John’s flat, turning and heading down the stairs, waving at Mrs. Hudson as he walks past her and out onto the street.

Well, he could bring his truck, but then again, the roads were different in London than- well, anywhere in America, really. A taxi should be fine, with traffic, he could get to the first address in an hour or so.

Probably. London was notorious for bad traffic, according to John.

He waves a hand, using a hint of compulsion magic, and a taxi slows down and pulls over to the curb. A neat trick that he’d seen Sherlock do before, and it had finally come in handy.

“39 Broadwick Street, corner of Lexington and Broadwick in Soho, please,” Stiles tells the driver as he gets in, and the taxi driver nods his head.

Thank Go-goodness he had the forethought to make sure he had exchanged some currency in a few countries he might need to go to, Stiles thought.

 

The location of the address turned out to be a rather nice, but older looking building, a bookstore on the corner of two streets. Through the window, shelves upon shelves of books were visible.

‘A.Z. Fell and Co. Rare Books’ Stiles read. Perhaps the owner was like Bobby then, collecting knowledge in books and rumors.

The sign in the window said open, so Stiles went in, doorbell ringing as the door swings shut.

 

Inside, the place was well lit, and smelled of faint hints of tea, paper, and dust, along with something he couldn’t quite place. The old wooden bookshelves and displays were filled to the brim with old tomes and books, copies of books Magnus himself had mentioned in passing, some of the books easily centuries-old or older.

A couple of comfy looking high backed chairs were placed around the rows of books, only one occupied that he could see.

Stiles saw a white-haired gentleman with glasses down the row of shelves, and wondered at the sense he got from the older man, the same instinctive feeling he got when he first met Dot, or Magnus, or any number of the Angels and Archangels or Fallen Archangels he had met. Timeless- in a sense.

Immortal.

The older gentleman looked rather as if he stepped out of the eighteenth century, rather than the twenty-first, dressed in a beige three-piece suit, white dress shirt, checkered bowtie, and a pair of round glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, reading a book and seemingly unaware of Stiles’ presence.

Stiles assumed that the gentleman was Mr. Fell, and not the person he was looking for. But perhaps he would know about where Mr. Crowley could be found.

 

He cleared his throat before speaking. “Hello? Mr. Fell? I was wondering if you might be able to help me with something.” He calls over, and the man looks up, surprised.

“Oh! I am terribly sorry, I didn’t hear you come in, have you been waiting long? Yes, I’m Mr. Fell, what might I help you with?” Mr. Fell says, standing and making his way over to where Stiles was standing, tucking his book under his arm.

“Well,” Stiles says, “It’s not a book I’m looking to find, actually. I was wondering if you know a Mr. Anthony J. Crowley, and where I could find him?” Stiles asks.

Mr. Fell gives him an assessing look, a hint of- fear? Worry?- was in his eyes, and Stiles knew at least that Mr. Fell knew Mr. Crowley. But he wondered what had him worried about someone asking about him.

Mr. Fell opens his mouth to speak, but the doorbell rings and Stiles looks over his shoulder when Mr. Fell does.

A different voice calls out, a man coming around the corner.

“Halloo, you in here Zira?” The man calls, and Stiles looks at him.

The same sense he got from Mr. Fell came from the man with the red hair and sunglasses, dressed in a black suit- although it was much more modern than Mr. Fell’s. Another immortal, and a dimmer but near-identical feeling as when he met Lucifer.

Stiles had a feeling that this man- or maybe neither of them were?- was Mr. Crowley.

Stiles turns around to face him, watching as Mr. Crowley communicates silently with looks to Mr. Fell, then Mr. Crowley gives him a small assessing look as well.

“Mr. Crowley?” Stiles asks. The man looks at him for a few moments before responding, Mr. Fell walking off past the man hurriedly as he speaks.

“Who’s asking?” Mr. Crowley responds, a tone of indifference in his voice.

A tone that was taken to hide worry, stress, and other emotions. Something Magnus had done on rare occasions when he was hurt emotionally- see his first several rejections by Alec- and Simon does the same thing when anyone brings up Raphael.

“Stiles Stilinski, but please, call me Stiles,” Stiles says, introducing himself. “I was told I could ask you about what Demons you know are here in London if there are any.”

Mr. Crowley stiffens just the tiniest amount, and Stiles has a feeling he knows why Mycroft directed him to speak with Mr. Crowley.

He didn’t just know about Demons, he was one.

Stiles doubted Mycroft didn’t know what Mr. Crowley was, and so Mycroft trusted Mr. Crowley to an extent. If Mycroft wasn’t worried, then Stiles wasn’t going to be, but how was he going to convince Mr. Crowley that?

Mr. Crowley swallows before speaking. “May I ask why you would think I would know anything of the sort, about,” Mr. Crowley waves his hand around in a gesture, “That sort of thing?”

Stiles hums before deciding. He digs into his pockets and grabs the bag of salt, matches, and the vial of holy water, watching as Mr. Crowley tenses up tightly, before setting them all on the ground, gently kicking them over to him. Pulls out his dagger, before kicking that over too.

Mr. Crowley nearly jumps as the items roll across the floor before stopping at his feet. “I don’t want to hurt you, Mr. Crowley, or your friend, okay? Look, I’m Senior Warlock of New York, and I just wanted some information. High Warlock Mycroft Holmes said you would know,” He says, Mr. Fell, coming to stand next to Mr. Crowley as he speaks. “If there’s anything dangerous around, and that’s what I want to know.”

“Mycroft Holmes? Isn’t that the one bloke, runnin’ around London and solving crimes and that?” Mr. Crowley asks, still tensed.

“No, no, that’s his brother dear, I remember both of them!” Mr. Fell says, tense but smiling at his fond memory. “The younger of them came in for several days in a row for months, and sat reading for hours before his brother would come in looking for him, and dragged him off. But that was years ago.” Mr. Fell says quietly, looking at Stiles.

Stiles looks to him before speaking, “Mr. Fell, I don’t mean harm to you or your friend. I’m even somewhat friends with a Demon, and she’s great, I know she wouldn’t harm anyone she didn’t want to. Maze is a friend of a friend of mine,” He says, and Mr. Crowley’s eyebrows raise.

“And by Maze, you mean- Mazikeen? Head Torturess, the Devil’s Right Hand? That Maze?!” He asks incredulously.

Mr. Fell looks a little bit like he might faint.

“Yeah, she’s pretty cool,” Stiles says nonchalantly.

Mr. Crowley suddenly looks like he might faint as well.

“Well then, by all means, ask your questions then!” Mr. Crowley says with a jeering scoff.

“Jeez, you're tenser than when I met Gabe,” Stiles says, open his mouth to continue when Mr. Crowley interrupts.

“-Gabe?!? As in, what, the bloody Archangel Gabriel?! Who hasn’t been seen in millennia??!” Mr. Crowley shouts, nearly hysterical.

“Crowley dear, calm yourself!” Mr. Fell says to his near-hysterical friend. “I’m sure this young man has a perfectly good explanation.”

Stiles looks between the two of them before speaking. “...Yes. I mean, do you want me to list off the beings I know?” Stiles asks, looking at their shocked faces, continuing before either could interrupt, “I know Gabriel- yes, the Archangel-, Maze, Castiel- I believe he’s a Principality?- I’ve met Uriel but he’s a jerk, and uh… Lucifer?” He says sheepishly, and both of them look terrified. “It’s okay though! Lucifer is not, you know, interested in taking over the world or anything. I think his favorite thing to do currently is to bother Detective Decker while she’s working and spoil her daughter, but don’t tell him I said that.” Stiles says with a smile.

“...Who are you? What are you?” Mr. Crowley asks slowly, and Stiles shrugs.

“Warlock Stilinski, and Warlock Stilinski,” Stiles says. “Look, are there any Demons- besides yourself- in London. Any at all?” He asks.

Mr. Crowley shakes his head after putting his hands to his temples for a few moments. “...No other Angels, either.” He mutters, and Mr. Fell nods once in agreement.

Stiles smiles. “Great! That’s all I need to know!” He says, summoning a pen from his workroom desk, along with a piece of paper. “Look,” Stiles says, writing his phone number of the paper, “If you ever need anything, or want to know something about my friends, I’d be willing to share pretty much anything, yeah? Just give me a call.” He says and hands them the paper, which Mr. Fell cautiously takes.

Stiles walks around them, heading towards the front door, only to stop when he notices the wards that lock anything in or out.

He turns and calls out, “Could you disable the wards please?” He asks, and Mr. Fell steps around the corner.

“Yes, yes, pardon me,” Mr. Fell says. He waves a hand and the wards all turn off at once. “I was rather worried you were up to no good, though Crowley is still suspicious, poor boy.” Mr. Fell says, chuckling nervously.

Stiles tilts his head in curiosity. “Would you find it rude if I asked what both your real names are?”

Mr. Fell stands in silent contemplation for a few moments, fidgeting a little before speaking.

“I am Aziraphale, little one, and my dear friend is Crowley.” He says softly.

Stiles smiles widely at him. “Well, Aziraphale, it was a surprise, but it was a pleasure to meet you and Crowley both.” He says, twisting his hand and teleporting his dagger into his palm.

A telling yelp comes from behind the shelves, and Stiles raises a hand at Aziraphale, who looks instantly worried, ready to turn and go after his friend.

Crowley comes around the corner of the bookshelves, clearly squinting at him behind the sunglasses, which have slid down his nose a touch to reveal the edges of presumably bright yellow-orange eyes. He pushes the sunglasses back up when he notices where Stiles was looking.

“That was not amusing,” Crowley tells him, and Stiles looks down at the blade of the dagger, clear of blood like Stiles suspected. He was spooked when it teleported then, and Aziraphale relaxes when he sees the bloodless dagger.

“Wouldn’t have hurt you anyways, its keyed to my magical signature, doesn’t work that well when other people try to wield it,” Stiles tells him, and Crowley scoffs. “Okay then, I’m leaving now, see ya. You’ve got cool eyes, Crowley, and I like your library Aziraphale. Bye now.” He says with a wave.

Both of the beings wave goodbye back.

 

Well, that went well, and Stiles had met more beings, both of which were kinda nice, if just shocked by his- well, everything- he guessed.

The Demon sighting must have just been someone seeing Crowley out someplace, so that was solved.

He’d tell Mycroft, but he wanted to go home and sleep.

Tomorrow then.

Notes:

So, what'd you think? I love hearing from you all!

Chapter 12: Chapter 12

Summary:

Stiles birthday is soon approaching, and Magnus and Peter plan a surprise.

Magnus opens his mouth to reply to Jace’s comment but is interrupted by his phone ringing in his pocket.

He smiles calmly before looking up at Alexander and the others in the room. “Would you excuse me for a moment? I should take this call.” He says with a flick of his hand, before stepping into the hallway of the Institute.

“Peter, what a surprise!” Magnus says, answering his phone. He notices Alexander walking towards him in the hall, concern written on his face. “Any reason, in particular, I’m hearing from you? Not that that is a bad thing, just-”

“Surprising?” Peter asks with amusement in his voice. “I’ve heard.”

Magnus waves a hand at Alexander, offering him a soothing smile. Alexander relaxes, just a bit.

“Well, I had thought it was about we arrange something to surprise our young friend,” Peter tells him. “It’s rather close to his birthday, and we do have quite a few more people this year who wouldn’t mind celebrating Stiles’ coming of age.”

Magnus blinks. Oh! Thank God for Peter, he would have forgotten about it until the last second.

He clears his throat, then speaks. “Yes, do you have anything in mind?” He asks, thinking about what he could get Stiles top last year’s gift. Not much, he thinks.

“Of course! What do you take me for?” Peter asks, scoffing. “Last years was good, but Stiles has quite a few more friends this year. I could send you a list of people to contact about coming, but I think there will be around… hmm, twenty or so at most?” He says.

Magnus thinks in silence for about a minute or so before speaking again. “Do you think you could get Stiles out of the house for a couple of hours beforehand? I can handle all of the rest if you can manage that.” He says.

Peter chuckles. “That’s it? A couple of hours? If I get Emma in on it, we could be gone half of the day, that girl can make hours pass in minutes in even the most boring department store.” He says, his grin clear in his voice.

Magnus smirks. “Well then, my furry friend, I think we have ourselves a plan, don’t you?” He says.

“See you soon my friend, I’ll talk with Emma about it and we’ll work on convincing Stiles,” Peter tells him, then hangs up.

Magnus puts his phone in his pocket, Alexander looking at him questioningly.

“Something come up? I’d rather be elsewhere, at the moment.” Alexander says. Clearly, the argument Jace and Clary had been having about nothing, in particular, was just as utterly boring to Alexander as it had been to him.

“Not unless you want to help me coordinate a surprise party for our dear friend Stiles, otherwise no, nothing has come up.” He tells Alexander.

Alexander almost sighs in relief. “At this point, I’ll take it, they’ve been at it for hours now and I don’t know how much more I could take.” He says, taking Magnus’ arm and guiding him towards the entryway.

Magnus smiles softly, wrapping his arm around Alexander’s.

 

It had taken many calls and callbacks to know exactly who was coming, who intended to bring gifts, and who was not going to be able to make it.

 

Mycroft, of course, declined, as had Sherlock initially, but John had called and informed Magnus that both he and Sherlock were coming. Anthea wouldn’t be able to make it either, though both Mycroft and Anthea expressed regret in having to miss it, Mycroft planning on sending his gift along with John.

He left what Stiles’ roommates were getting for Stiles up to them, but informed them of the surprise, ringing the promise that it would stay a surprise out of Simon and Isaac.

Will was probably least thrilled about it but promised to visit for a few minutes before disappearing to go hide in his room, at least.

Stiles’ father was delighted and said he’d already planned to take a couple of days off to come and visit Stiles.

Sam and Gabriel had both agreed and planned to bring gifts and to drag both of their respective siblings along with them.

Lucifer agreed as well, planning in so few words to ‘kidnap Detective Decker for a nice break from working’ and maybe bring Mazikeen too.

Ragnor and Dot had both declined but asked that he sent their best wishes to Stiles.

And Alexander had agreed to come as his plus one, though Magnus had yet to decide what he would bring. A book, perhaps? Stiles was always eager to expand his collection of books.

But which one? Which one could he get him…

 

Peter checks his phone one more time- Magnus sending him a text about finishing up preparing the food and directing guests- before tucking the phone in his pocket, watching as Emma attempted to engage Stiles in clothes shopping. She had already dragged them along for what she had wanted to get, including something she had bought and refused to show either of them from a few stores ago.

“C’ mon Stiles, what do you wear that’s not either- a) a graphic tee, b) flannel, or c) a pair of jeans? Or even d) all of the above?” She asks, holding up a plain, black t-shirt.

“Hey!” Stiles says indignantly. “I wear other things!”

Emma frowns. “Your red jacket does not count because you are usually wearing one or all of those things under your jacket, Stiles, and let me tell you, flannel usually clashes really bad with it. Trust me, it does not look at all professional.” She says with a shake of her head.

“People hire me for my skills, not how I look,” Stiles says to her. Emma just gives him a look.

“And people ask you back if they don’t think you remind them of a lumberjack,” She says. “Except for the Winchesters, but they don’t count.”

“Peter, c’ mon,” Stiles says to him, “I look fine with the flannel, right?” Stiles almost whines.

Peter just raises an eyebrow at him before looking to Emma.

“Stiles, Peter has much better fashion sense than you, and flannel makes up very little of his outfits, if ever,” Emma tells Stiles.

Stiles pouts, hanging his head. “Fine. You win.”

Emma snorts. “One plain colored t-shirt isn’t going to kill you, buddy, I hate to break it to ya.” She holds up the shirt next to him, then tucks it over her arm, along with a few things she had already planned to try on.

Stiles checks the time on his phone before whistling. “Jeez, time flies, it’s almost 12 already. Wanna finish up here, and I'll make us something for lunch at home?” He asks.

Emma glances at Peter, and he nods at her. She smiles.

“Okay, sounds good! Let’s go try these on, and then we can pay and leave.” She says cheerfully.

 

The woman at the front counter looks up at them with a bored look on her face. “You gentlemen find everything alright today?” The cashier asks, already checking their items.

Peter feels a stab of anger he hasn’t felt in a long, long time and sees Stiles clenching his fists at his sides, Emma just smiling at the cashier, her face blank.

“Yes, just fine,” Emma says, handing over her card. The cashier takes it and rings up the clothes.

“Sir, do you want your receipt?” The cashier asks Emma, handing back the card, and Emma nods her head slowly.

“Yes, that’s fine.” She says, grabbing the clothes off the counter and putting them in her shopping bag.

 

As they walk out of the store and into the parking lot to find Emma’s Cruiser, Stiles gently puts a hand on her arm, and the three of them stop. Peter’s anger simmers steadily, but Stiles was often more… calm about these things.

“Em, you okay?” He asks her softly, a hint of anger in his tone, but none towards her.

She takes a deep breath, then nods vigorously. “Yeah. Just…” She trails off for a second. “It reminds me how much you guys have really done for me, ya know? Not once have you guys brought up something I didn’t feel like talking about. It’s nice.” She says softly.

Stiles smiles sadly at her. “Em, respect costs nothing, and you are one of the toughest, prettiest, and most caring women I’ve had the chance to get to know.” He tells her and offers her a hug.

She accepts, and Peter offers her one too when she turns his way.

She squeezes him tight, and Peter chuckles. She’s a bear alright, with the hugs to prove it. He doesn’t mind though.

“Well,” Peter says, “That’s enough of normal people for one day, don’t you think?” Stiles snorts at that, and Emma smiles a little.

“Okay. Let’s go home, then.” She says.

Peter’s pretty sure the rest of the day will turn out much, much better.

Chapter 13: Chapter 13

Summary:

Stiles celebrates his 18th birthday with cake and friends.

Stiles pushes open the door to the house, Emma and Peter following behind him, Emma’s shopping bag swinging on her arm, Peter gesturing with his hands.

“No, no, that’s fine, Stiles! I’ve been needing something to do in my spare time, though I’m sure Chris will be disappointed about my absence,” Peter says to him, dismmising his complaints by waving a hand. “You focus on finding this… Wayward mate of Will’s, and I’ll handle this.” Peter says firmly.

 

When Stiles had mentioned Will’s old ‘pack’, Peter had, surprisingly, offered to look into it for him.

Stiles had never really had a pet growing up- except for sometimes looking after the search dogs at the station- but housing a dog or two for the sake of Will’s improving emotional state was no hardship, in his eyes.

“Heyo, we’re back! Who wants-” Stiles calls out, only to stop when he enters the kitchen, someone standing there out of the corner of his eye.

 

Magnus is standing in the doorway to the dining room, and Stiles sees several people behind him, including his Dad. Magnus throws open his arms and smiles.

“Happy Birthday, my young friend!” Magnus says, gesturing towards the dining room. “There’s food, a cake, and I do believe there’s gifts hiding around here somewhere-” Magnus says, before cutting off when Stiles wraps him in a hug.

Stiles speaks, his words somewhat muffled into Magnus’ shirt. “You didn’t have to, Magnus, I would have been fine with just hanging out around the house.”

Magnus scoffs. “No friend of mine is going to ‘just hang out’ for their birthday, excuse me.” Magnus says to him, pretending to be offended, and Peter and Emma walk by, grins on their faces.

“That and I reminded you.” Peter says quietly to Magnus as he walks by.

Magnus sighs. “And Peter reminding me.” He nods, turning them towards the dining room.

Stiles goes over and gives his Dad a hug, squeezing him tightly.

“Happy Birthday kiddo,” his Dad tells him, a huge smile on his face. His Dad pulls back and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Your mom would be so proud of you, Mieczysław,” His Dad says quietly to him, a soft smile on his face and eyes just a touch watery. “I know I am.” He says, and hugs Stiles again.

Stiles blinks rapidly, then squeezes his Dad again.

“I love you, Dad.” Stiles says softly, and John smiles.

“Love you too, Stiles.” He says, before pulling back and gesturing to the room.

“C ‘mon kiddo, you’ve got a birthday to celebrate!” He tells him excitedly, and Stiles chuckles, before looking over at the dining table.

 

“Oh, wow.” Stiles says, looking around at everyone and the table stacked with food and a large cake.

Stiles was a little shocked at the amount of people, truthfully. Magnus had definitely outdone himself this year.

Most of the people he gladly called friends were here, and some of their friends too.

Gabriel and Sam, and Castiel and Dean were standing along one side of the table. Lucifer, Maze, and Detective Decker were seated, and a young brown haired girl, maybe about seven or eight, was sitting on Maze’s lap. John and Sherlock were sitting and standing, respectively, Sherlock attempting to act aloof, John smiling happily. Alec was standing off to the side behind Magnus, somewhat more relaxed than Stiles was used to seeing him be. Will was seated, face tilted down and glasses on his face. Tony, Emma, Simon, and Isaac were sitting or standing around the table, all smiling or grinning widely, Isaac boucing excitedly.

 

“Alright, now that the birthday boy is here, we can begin!” Magnus says loudly, getting everyone’s attention. He gestures for Stiles to come stand next to him, before waving a hand over the cake.

The candles on the cake light up with an array of different colored flames, flickering brightly.

The cake looked nice, frosted in what looked like cream cheese frosting, but clearly was homemade, delicate dark frosting letters spelling out, ‘Happy Eighteenth Birthday Stiles’ in loopy cursive. He quickly counts them up and finds that there are eighteen candles. Stiles smiles, then waits.

“Now, we’re not going to do anything embarrassing, like sing to you, so I will simply say this,” Magnus tells the room, several chuckles emerging at his statement, before turning to Stiles. “Happy Eighteenth Birthday, and make a wish, Stiles!” He says, and Stiles grins before gently blowing out the flames.

Claps and cheers begin, someone whistling as he stands back and lets Magnus cut the cake into methodical- and large- slices. Magnus hands a corner piece to Stiles.

“For you, birthday boy,” Magnus says, handing off the slice of cake in a humorously grand gesture, then proceeds to begin handing out pieces to everyone else.

Stiles sits down in one of the empty chairs, then looks around the table at the other foods.

Trays of fruit, cheeses, and some simple sandwiches cover the table, along with a few smaller bowls, one of which looks to have red jello and pink tinted whip cream- which Magnus hands to Simon- and another plate with a meat and cheese wrap looking finger food, which Stiles sees is his grey plate he uses for whatever human meat meal is being served that day.

The cake was chocolate, and Stiles was right, the frosting was cream cheese.

“This is good, Magnus, did you make this?” He asks, and Magnus just grins.

“When I’m so inclined, I can cook quite well. That just doesn’t happen to be often.” He whispers to Stiles conspiritally, and Stiles nods.

Stiles looks around the table at everyone, a small smile on his face.

Alec was frowning as he ate his slice of cake, but only because Castiel was staring at him and doing the ‘curious puppy’ head tilt thing. Castiel looked away when Dean touched his arm to get his attention though, and gave Dean a small- enamoured- smile.

Maze was speaking with Detective Decker and the young girl on Maze's lap, eating the cake enthusiatically while stopping every so often to respond to whatever Maze or the Detective had said.

Lucifer was speaking with Gabriel, who was digging into his slice of cake happily, Sam nibbling a few bites of his before handing it to Gabriel, who takes it with a pleased smile.

 

Stiles suddenly remembers the odd pair he met in London, and he stands and makes his way around the table to stand next to them. He’d ask them, since he hadn’t had the chance to look into the Angel and Demon duo yet.

“Hey Gabriel, Lucifer. Hi Sam,” Stiles greets, and Gabriel looks over at him and snorts.

“Jeez, buckaroo, you grew like a tree!” Gabriel says, before turning to look at Sam. “Sam, you are going to have competition for who can hit their head coming through doorways the most!” He says, and Sam just shakes his head with a smile.

Lucifer looks up at him from his seat. “Hello young Warlock. Congratulations on your coming of age,” He says smoothly, before asking, “Is there something you wanted to say?”

Stiles nods. “Yeah, uh Gabriel, Lucifer, have either of you heard of an Angel named Aziraphale, or a Demon named Crowley?” He asks.

Lucifer looks curiously at him before speaking. “Crowley is a rather common name, amongst Demons.” He says slowly. “I don’t believe there is an Angel with the name Aziraphale, though I don’t always remember the names of my youngest siblings.” He says a little sadly.

Gabriel speaks up then. “I listened to what was going on Upstairs for quite a long time, even after I left. Before I became Loki, and I stopped listening as often,” He says quietly. “Aziraphale was the Principality of the East Eden Gate, if I remember correctly,” Gabriel says, then snorts. “He was on Humanities’ side before even the thought came to be in Sam and Dean’s heads.”

Lucifer perks his head up at that. “Wait a moment, I think I know the Angel your referring to,” He says, looking at Gabriel. “The reason the Horsemen of the Apocalypse change their corporations around the nineties. The failed Armageddon? And the-”

“And the Demon and Angel who wouldn’t die, yes! That’s them!” Gabriel says with a nod.

“Oh, I know the Demon you were asking about then, Stiles. One of the Fallen. Does pretty much as he pleases with petty temptations, nowadays, though I don’t often look into what Demons are up to.”

“‘Petty temptations?’” Sam asks, and Lucifer nods his head once.

“Yes. Small, irritating things. Doesn’t influence directly, always lets the Humans decide if they’ll do something bad. Gluing coins to sidewalks, influencing the design of highways for maximum traffic buildup, playing annoying music when your waiting on hold for twenty plus minutes, those kinds of petty temptations.” Lucifer says.

Gabriel smiles. “A Demon whose not quite that, and an Angel who isn’t. There was plenty of chatter about the two of them when they helped prevent an Armageddon, and I think that was what cemented the collaboration between Heaven and Hell to start the Apocalypse.”

Stiles hums. “I didn’t know that. The more you know, I guess.” He says.

Sam, however, looks like he might need a minute or two to process.

 

“Stiles, c ‘mon, hurry up so we can give you your presents!” Isaac says, bounding over and dragging Stiles off towards the living room, where everyone was starting to gather.

“Okay, okay, I’m coming!” Stiles says, then waves at Gabriel and Sam as he leaves.

He wouldn’t be surprised if it took them a few minutes to come to the living room. That’s okay, he could wait.

Chapter 14: Chapter 14

Summary:

Presents!

Stiles follows Isaac to the living room, looking around at everyone, a pile of wrapped presents sitting on the coffee table.

Stiles sits down in the middle of the couch, Emma seated to his right, Simon on his left.

Magnus comes up first, and picks up a gift off the table, handing it to him. Stiles takes it, noting the size and shape of the present, vaguely aware of Sherlock muttering to John off to the side.

“This one is mine,” Magnus says with a smile, before walking over to stand next to Alec.

Stiles peels open the paper to find- “‘Il Manuale di maggiore strano besti’, by Amadeo Damico?” He reads.

Magnus nods. “Yes. I know you have always had an interest in languages and creatures, so I thought of you when I saw it.” He says, and Stiles smiles at that. That was true, he was always interested to learn a new aspect of what people thought of supernatural creatures.

“Thanks, Magnus. I can’t wait to read it.” He says sincerely. The first page does look pretty interesting...

“Alright, me next,” Emma says, pushing her shopping bag from earlier towards him.

Stiles puts down the book and starts a pile for unwrapped presents, grabbing the bag.

Inside the bag was the shirt she bought for him folded over a CD. He moves the shirt and examines the CD.

“Wait, you got me Death of a Bachelor?!” He asks excitedly, turning over the CD, scanning the back cover. Emma nods with a grin.

“Yeah! I know you got into Panic! recently, so when I saw it when we were out today, I thought, ‘perfect’!” She says, giggling.

Stiles nods. “Absolutely, I approve. Thank you,” he says and offers her a hug. She grins wider and wraps him in a tight hug.

Sam comes forward, picks up one of the thinner and smaller presents, then offers it to him with a small smile.

“Uh, this one’s from me and Gabriel, but Dean was the one who suggested it.”

Inside the wrapping paper, he finds a thin box, seven inches long and two across. Opening the box, he finds a blade.

The blade is similar to his own, although his own dagger is a muskrat clip blade, while this one is a sabre clip blade.

“It has all the same enchantments and poison coatings that your dagger has, I made sure of it,” Gabriel says, grinning at him from across the room.

Stiles gently picks up the dagger, weighing it in his palm. It feels nearly identical to his other dagger, in the weight and the handle size.

“It feels like my other one,” He says, very gently running a finger along the blade. “This is really nice.” He tells Gabriel.

“Hey, no problem kiddo. Two daggers are always more intimidating than one.” Gabriel says sagely.

“Thanks, guys.” He says to Sam and Dean. Sam smiles, and Dean gives him a nod.

Maze steps forward next, gesturing to a cylindrically shaped present, a smirk on her face. “This one’s my gift. I think you’ll like it.” She says.

Stiles picks it up, and unwraps it, warily wondering what he was going to find inside.

A large mason jar, filled with large black claws.

Stiles nods his head, examining the shape of the claws. “Cool. Hellhounds nail clippings?” He asks her, and Maze just grins.

Nice. They were rare but useful in quite a few demonic spells.

Isaac picks up a thin envelope, handing it to him with a glance to Simon. Stiles takes it and opens it, wondering why Isaac was worried about Simon’s reaction.

Oh. A simple paper ticket sits inside, with the address of a cafe and a time and date printed on it, along with the name of a group. ‘No Sleep ‘til Denver’. He chuckles at that.

“You guys!” Stiles says to them excitedly, before looking over to Simon. “You joined a group?” He asks him. Simon nods slowly.

“I-I’ve always liked music, and-” Simon struggles to say, so Stiles gently cuts him off.

“You don’t need to explain it to me, Simon, I can’t wait to hear you guys play.” He tells him sincerely. Simon’s guitar was something Lily had first sent him when Simon had moved in, and sometimes faint chords could be heard coming from upstairs.

Simon ducks his head, but he has a small smile on his face, so Stiles counts it as a win.

“Thanks for getting me a ticket Isaac,” Stiles says to Isaac, and Isaac smiles widely at him.

“No problem, Emma and I already have ours!” He says cheerfully, and Stiles sees Simon duck his head again out of the corner of his eye.

John comes forward next and hands him two things. The first is a small box, and the other is a small folded piece of paper. Sherlock perks up in his seat when he spots the paper, glaring at it curiously.

“The box is mine, and the paper’s from Mycroft. Said to give it straight to you and not let Sherlock have a peek at it.” John tells him. Stiles takes both, unwrapping the box first.

A box of tea leaves, of nice quality, he finds. The smell is strong, but not overly so. Freshly dried, from the look of them.

“Nice. Thanks, John,” He says, and John smiles at him.

The paper from Mycroft is simple, with a string of numbers, listed out coordinate style. Stiles wonder exactly what it was Mycroft wanted him to investigate.

He sighs. “I would ask you to tell Mycroft 'thank you', but I have a feeling I’ll be telling it to him myself soon enough,” Stiles says to John, and John nods.

“I’m not surprised. He gave you something to do then?” John asks curiously, and Stiles chuckles.

“Yeah.” He says.

But what better way to tell him something, other than vague?

Stiles smiled. He was content, listening as people began speaking around him again, the sounds rising as people wandered to the dining room or talked.

He always did like looking forward to a mystery.

Chapter 15: Chapter 15

Summary:

Stiles goes to see Simon play in a band, and plans a trip to Lithuania.

Stiles sat back in his chair in the cafe, smiling as Isaac walks back up to their table with their drinks in a drink tray.

Simon and four other people were over in a corner of the cafe, setting up.

The cafe was a bit older, but well kept, designed in an industrialist style. Wood paneling, smooth concrete flooring, large glass bay windows that let the setting sun filter in through, and the smell of fresh-brewed coffee wafting gently in the air.

“Okay, here we go,” Isaac says, setting down their drinks and passing them around the table. “One black coffee with cream,” Isaac offers to Tony, who accepts it with a smile.

“Thank you, Isaac,” Tony says, taking a sip from the cup.

“No problem,” Isaac tells him, passing a cup over to Emma next. “One Hazelnut vanilla latte for m’lady,” He says in a poor impression of a British butler.

Emma snickers as she accepts the cup, doing her own impression of Isaac’s horrible accent. “Oh thank you, mmm, it’s quite good, I think that’ll be all for now mister.”

Stiles chuckles at their exchange, and Tony shakes his head at the two of them. Isaac grins.

“And for you, a green tea with milk and honey,” He says to Stiles as he hands over the cup.

“Thanks, Isaac,” Stiles tells him, and Isaac waves a hand as he sits down into the empty chair at the table.

“Pshh, it’s no big deal.” He says, taking a sip from his own drink.

Stiles leans towards Emma. “So, you have any idea what they’re playing?” He asks.

Emma finishes taking a sip of her drink before speaking. “Nope, don’t have the slightest clue,” She says, “But I did have a chance to meet everyone in their band.”

Emma points to the blond in the back of the stage area fiddling with the settings of an upright string bass amp, plucking the strings before adjusting the knobs some more.

“We ran into that guy when Simon and I went on campus a few weeks ago,” She snorts, “Literally. He was distracted and talking to that guy over there- the black-haired guy over by the keyboard, uh, David? I’m pretty sure is his name- and they were talking about their lead player just graduated and moved to the west coast, then BAM,” She says, smacking a fist into her palm, “He runs right into Simon.”

“Yeah?” Stiles says.

“Oh, yeah. Jake- that’s the blond guy- he dropped the entire stack of music papers he was carrying, and Simon mentioned something about the order of the chord progressions as he was handing one of his papers back to him, and they hit it off instantly,” She says, chuckling.

“They go hang out at this older apartment place for a few hours every other day or so in the early afternoons, and I went with Simon the first time,” She tells him. “I took a few piano lessons when I was younger, but even I could tell they were geeking out pretty hard. Turns out all of them are music majors of some sort.”

Stiles nods his head, looking over at the group. He can’t hear what they’re saying, but Simon smiles, shaking his head amusedly at something the saxophone player says to him.

The light of Simon’s smile reaches his eyes for once, and Stiles can’t help but feel happy for Simon. Emma had been right, about Simon feeling like a sibling. He was glad to see Simon finding himself again, letting himself feel that it’s okay to try to do normal things.

Something had to be done about Raphael soon though, because Simon still had so much to learn about being a Vampire, and Stiles could only teach him so much.

When the band finishes setting up, they don’t introduce themselves. Instead, they looked between each other before starting up a song.

A simple, but easy to listen to song, with guitar and bass repeating background parts, the drums keeping steady time in a swing beat, and the saxophone and keyboard playing solo parts back and forth.

The saxophone player speaks into the mic when the song ends, smiling at the soft applause from within the cafe.

“Hello, that was ‘Pick Up the Pieces’, and we’re No Sleep ‘Til Denver,” They say, before looking around at the audience. “We’ve got a few more songs for ya tonight, and we hope you enjoy your evening.” They say, and adjust their saxophone neck strap before they look between the rest of the band.

To Stiles great surprise, Simon moves a second mic in front of himself, this one pointed at his face, and the band begins to play again, Stiles sitting back in short-lived shock as Simon starts to sing.

“‘Through summers long, and winters cold, may you always have someone good to hold. And may good fortune wait on every bend, and may your winning streak, may it never end. So, roll the dice, boy, ‘cause my money's on you. Take my advice now and put your money down too. Because there's something in the eye you can't pretend, and may your winning streak, may it never end. And may the sign of the southern cross, be some comfort to you when you're lost, and may the devil's evil eye, pass you by. Well, it's not for glory, I tell you true, that I do these things I do for you. But for a promise I made now I must defend, and may your winning streak, may it never end. Hey!’” He sings slow and strong in a melancholy way, and the keyboard player plays a solo over the pause in singing.

Stiles, however, is still awed at Simon’s previously unmentioned talent. Yeah, he knew Simon was in a ‘band’ with a few other people before he came into the Downworld, but this? Stiles was by no means an expert of what good singing was supposed to be, but Simon sounded way better than ‘passably singing along with the song on the radio’ good.

“‘And may the sign of the cross, be some comfort when you're lost, help you when you're all broke down, may the spirit of good brethren, turn you around.
And may the devil's evil eye, pass you right by, don't you look back my friend. And may the sisters of good charity, take you in. Through summers long and
winters cold, may you always have someone good to hold, and may good fortune be a constant and a loyal friend, and may your winning streak, may it never end. May your winning streak, may it never end. May your winning streak, may it never end.’” Simon gently sings the final lyrics and strokes the last few chords of the guitar, the song drawn to an end.

Simon smiles shyly at the enthusiastic clapping and cheers from their table, and the applause of the other patrons.

The saxophone player comes up to the mic again, waving a hand. “Thank you, everybody, that was our rendition of ‘Winning Streak’.” They say, chuckling as another cheer comes. “Thank you. And for those of you who are regulars around here, you might have noticed a new face. Simon, say hi!” They say happily, watching as Simon gives the crowd a little wave. A few chuckles escape from the crowd after that.

“Alright, we’ve got a few more for you, so sit tight,” They say. The bass player switches to bass guitar and the keyboard player fiddles with the settings, the others, and then begin.

Stiles and the others sit and watch through three more songs, all of which seemed just as good as the others- ‘I Feel Better’, ‘Dancing in the Moonlight’, and ‘You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feeling’. For only being a couple of weeks worth of practice, they were really good, and Stiles grins when Simon finally makes his way over to their table when they are done playing and taking everything down.

He stands and offers Simon a hug, which Simon accepts, giving him a one-armed hug, his other hand occupied with his guitar case. “Dude! That was awesome!” He says, and Simon smiles when he stands back.

“I’m glad you guys liked it.” He says, genuinely glad, and Isaac shakes his head.

“No way, that was definitely a ‘love it’. I absolutely enjoyed it. You were great!” Isaac tells him, and Simon practically preens in delight.

“Yo, Simon!” The saxophone player says as they make their way past, gently smacking their fist against Simon’s on the upper arm as they go by. “See you tomorrow, yeah? Celebratory coffee gathering at Andy’s.”

Simon nods, smiling in agreement. “Yeah, see you there!” He says, and the saxophone player yells as they walk over towards the door.

“Eleven or you’re dead! See you, my dude!” They shout from the exit and wave their hand in a peace gesture before walking out the door.

“They seem… like quite an energetic person,” Tony says as they all stand and make their way out to the Cruiser that Emma and Simon take turns driving.

“Oh, yeah,” Simon says, “That’s Alexis for ya. They’ve been like that since I’ve met them, as long as they’ve already had their minimum caffeine intake for the day.” He says, snickering.

Simon puts his case in the back of the car before hopping into the front seat.

“Hey Stiles, do you have anything planned for dinner, or can we stop for pizza?” Emma asks him as Simon drives out of the parking lot.

“Yeah, grilled chicken and the cauliflower-not-potato egg salad you guys liked when I made it last,” He says.

“Oooh, yum!” Emma says excitedly. “Yeah, I really liked that.”

Tony nods his head. “It was pretty good,” he says, agreeing with Emma before looking back at Stiles from the passenger seat. “No steak, or…?”

Stiles shakes his head. “Nah, Dad’s having dinner with us before he takes off later, and I already planned on chicken, and I have enough for leftovers.”

“Going to look into that paper Mycroft gave you the other day?” Simon asks curiously.

“Yeah, it looks like it’s this place in the middle of freaking nowhere somewhere in Lithuania,” Stiles tells him.

Simon scoffs. “What the hell’s in Lithuania?” He asks.

Stiles shrugs. “Hell if I know, but that’s what I’m going to find out though, aren’t I?” Hopefully nothing with too many teeth.

Stiles wondered what on Earth he was going to find in Lithuania, in what appears to be a run-down castle, according to google maps. Nothing friendly, he guessed.

Oh well, he's certain he'll find out when he gets there.

Notes:

If anyone's interested, the songs the band play are- 'Pick Up the Pieces' by Average White Band, 'Winning Streak' by Glen Hansard, 'I Feel Better' by Gotye, 'Dancing in the Moonlight' by King Harvest, and 'You've Lost That Lovin' Feeling' by Hall and Oates.

Chapter 16: Chapter 16

Summary:

Travelling to Lecter Estate, what Stiles finds is not exactly what he expected to.

Notes:

Went on a bit of a hiatus, but I'm back at it!

It took Stiles well over a day to find his way to the place that Mycroft had given him the coordinates to. Driving through part of Russia from one of the nearest available High Warlocks, Angsar Pravda, to the nearest town took less than a day. After staying the night in a small hostel in a smaller village not too far away, the biggest problem Stiles had was trying to find the right way to get there. One of the locals had mentioned an old dirt road that led to an old building that no one wanted to go near, when he asked about the place.

Turns out, one of the reasons that none of the locals were interested in going to the place, was because the road itself was really hard to find. Surrounded by a dense pine forest, and littered with potentially tire-breaking rocks and thick, low-growing undergrowth, finding and then driving safely down the road took him hours longer than it should have.

 

Surrounding the property itself was an old, rusting iron fence that was long past disrepair, some of it even falling down in sections- and a pair of wide iron gates, which he parked his rental in front of. Through a thick growth of trees inside the estate, he could faintly see the glinting of glass windows, and old stonework. Walking around to a fallen section of fence, Stiles takes a look around the property.

Stiles guesses that the property probably once looked beautiful, but time had long ago taken over. Bushes that were several feet overgrown, dried and shriveled plants that long ago withered without the care of whoever once tended to them, and what few weeds could survive the weather when it got cold were well past the point of being called overgrown.

Through a grove of trees and another section of fence off towards the back of the property, Stiles catches a glimpse of several headstones, some far more intricate than others, but far less overgrown than he would’ve expected.

Following the pathway that leads towards what looks like the main building, Stiles comes to a halt in front of a very large stone mansion. It, too, is overgrown. Both dead and alive ivy vines have grown over some areas, and moss flourishing across huge sections of the stone front of the building, and even up onto the roof, from what Stiles can see. Part way up towards the roof, a pair of carved stone statues guard the entryway of the mansion.

The statues possess the bodies and antlers of deer, but the head and chest were different. Even with mossy growth of their own, the statues are clearly of Ravenstags. The head of the creature, and particularly the mouth, resemble much more closely that of a snarling wolf, full of sharp teeth. The chest resembled the mane of a lion, but even through the weathering of the statues, it's clear that delicate carving depicts the details of feathers instead of hair.

Well, he’s definitely in the right place.

But what exactly Mycroft expected him to find at the Lecter estate, Stiles wasn’t sure.

Only one way to find out.

 

Making his way inside, Stiles keeps an eye out for any sign of trouble. Or, a sign of anything, really. The arching main hall is much cleaner, but hints of water damage and of growth still show the age of the place. Only the slightest hint of wards or protections tug at his senses, far too old to keep him from getting in. Probably too old to keep anyone out, he thinks. Passing several closed rooms, he stops completely when he hears a faint noise coming from farther inside the building.

Music faintly plays in the distance. Not anything in english, after he listens for a few more seconds, but likely some local radio station playing music, from what he can guess. Which means there is someone else inside, somewhere.

Which could mean one of several things. Either someone is loitering, which isn’t necessarily his problem, but they could possibly be confrontational if approached, which would definitely become a problem. Or, it could be the reason why Mycroft sent him here. Someone who knows something about Dr. Lecter, maybe? In which case, they could also be confrontational, if approached.

Focusing for a few seconds, Stiles casts a temporary rune on himself to help with understanding other languages, if whoever is there doesn’t speak any english. Better now instead of freaking them out by surprising them, and also not being able to understand a word they are saying.

Further down the hall, one of the doorways casts light from under it, and the music is much clearer standing next to it. Steeling himself for a confrontation of some kind, Stiles pushes open the door slowly.

It only takes a few seconds for the occupant to realize he is there, and to reach for a rifle lying on the table.

“Who are you?! This is private property!” The woman says, quickly pulling the rifle up towards herself and pointing it firmly at him.

“Whoah, whoah, easy! I was sent here to look for something,” Stiles says quickly, showing the woman his empty hands. “My name is Stiles, okay? I’m just trying to find something out for a friend.”

“You will find nothing here you are looking for. Leave, now.” She says, warning in her tone. Her accent is not european, from what he can tell. Japanese, or chinese, maybe, he thinks. She looks to be from somewhere in east Asia, with her long black hair done up neatly, and dark brown eyes narrowed at him in scrutiny.

“Do you know anything about this place? Or the people who lived here? I’m trying to find out anything that might help me.” Stiles asks, keeping his voice calm and steady. Best not to provoke the lady with the gun pointed at him.

“No, they are all dead. There’s nothing they can do to help you.” She says shortly.

“Not even Hannibal? I mean, he’s not-” Stiles starts, but the woman cuts him off, her eyes widening.

“You know Hannibal? You are an even bigger fool, if you have come here looking for him. You will only find trouble, if that’s why you have come here,” She hisses. “Why did you come looking for him? If you know about this place, then you will not live long.”

“I was sent here to look for something,” Stiles repeats, “Why are you here?” He asks her.

“I guard what I was told to keep. There is nothing here for you.” She says.

“Hannibal isn’t the last Lecter.” Stiles blurts out. He probably shouldn’t mention Will any further until he knows who this woman is and what she is doing here, but he’s hoping that she knows something about what was going on. And it’s true. He isn’t the last Lecter.

“What.”

“Well, he’s not. Not anymore,” Stiles amends, tilting his head to the side a little. “He has a mate. Who is pregnant.” Stiles explains simply.

“And this means that you come here? And not the one who is his mate? No, I don’t think so. Tell me why you are here.” She says, emphasising her sentence with a wave of her rifle in his direction.

“It’s true. I mostly came here to see if there is anything to hold against Hannibal, or just to see what I could find, really. He’s not exactly being what I’d call a model of a loving partnership or parenting, right now,” Stiles says, scoffing. “I came here on behalf of his mate, if that matters.”

The woman stands silently for a few seconds before she speaks again.

“Hannibal is not with his mate?” She asks curiously.

“No, definitely not,” Stiles says, growing a little angry at the thought. “He’s probably having the time of his life in Italy, though. I heard he was dating his psychiatrist now.” Stiles says, shaking his head.

“What?! Lecter would not leave his mate, he would not dare!” She says, outraged.

“Whoah, easy. It’s true okay? He did, and I’m here because I think he’s kind of an asshole for what he did,” Stiles says. “I’m sorry if there’s some sort of Ravenstag ritual or something that I don’t know about that lets them abandon their mate when they feel betrayed, or whatever. But Lecter did leave, and he hurt plenty of people when he did. Including his mate.”

The woman lowers her rifle, despite her anger growing. “No, there is no such thing. His abandonment of his mate is inexcusable regardless of why, by the Ravenstag.”

“Well, that’s great, but that didn’t stop Hannibal.”

The woman stands there silently for several seconds before turning the safety of her rifle on, lowering it to her side.

“I guard something on behalf of Hannibal,” She begins to explain. “I can’t leave, unless a Lecter kills what I guard. If I were to do it without a Lecter telling me to do so, Hannibal would certainly kill me. The only way I would be allowed to do it myself is if a Lecter were to tell me I could. And Hannibal would not.”

“Okay…” Stiles says slowly.

“But he is not the last Lecter,” She says. “While his mate is not here, you are his mate’s guardian, are you not? You are protecting him?” She asks him.

“Yeah, I guess that’s right.” Stiles agrees slowly.

“Then you could grant me this. On the behalf of his mate, grant me this.” She says softly. Something tells Stiles that she wants to be free of her vow. Of what the vow compromises of, Stiles doesn’t know.

“Will you tell me about the Lecters? About what you know about Hannibal?” He asks.

“I will do more than that. I will be free of this place, and I can send word to see that this place is given the proper care that it needs. Hannibal would not allow others to be here while I remained, you see. I will return with you, once I have made the proper arraignments. I have been a servant to the Lecter family for many, many years, and would not disrespect Lady Murasaki by doing otherwise.” She tells him.

Alright then.

“I don’t know how Will is going to feel about this, but if you know more than the basics about Ravestags, I’d appreciate your help greatly. There’s only so much I can try and learn, and information on them besides the bare basics is hard to find.” He says to her.

“I know much about them from my time with Lady Murasaki- Hannibal’s aunt. She is married to Robert Lecter, Hannibal’s uncle. I spent many years serving Lady Murasaki before I came here, and Robert is much the same as Hannibal. Their nature runs strong in their blood.”

“Okay. Alright. Uh,” Stiles says. “You’re free to do whatever you need to.”

“Thank you, Stiles.”

“Sure. You got a name, lady? And, uh, do you need a ride into town, or anything before we go?” He asks her.

“Chiyoh, and no. I plan on sending a letter when I get into the nearby town, to tell Lady Murasaki the news, and to send for some of my things. You are from the States, yes?” She asks. “That is all I need to do once I leave, then we may leave whenever.”

“Yeah, and, uh, sounds good. I’ll meet you there, then.” He says to her. “Let me give you my number so you can find me.” He says to her, and proceeds to tell her his number.

 

Chiyoh leaves the room, heading off to do what she needs to, and Stiles heads out of the estate on his way.

Well then. Certainly not what he was expecting to find, but certainly someone who seems willing to help. Maybe even someone who’ll know how to deal with Hannibal without causing a massive bloodshed.

He could use some help, in that case.

Notes:

Hope you like it. I think I got where I'm going with this next, so we'll see how it goes.

Chapter 17: Chapter 17

Summary:

Stiles gets some notes, a dog appears, and Sam gives him a call about the vampire situation.

A few days after returning home, Chiyoh sends him a folder in the mail full of handwritten doctor’s notes, with a message written on top of the folder.

‘From Lady Murasaki’s family physician. I hope that this will help some.’

A quick glance at the notes, and Stiles plans to send them directly over to John. Maybe John can convince Sherlock to translate the notes into English for him, although Stiles is going to make sure he can find someone to translate, just in case.

Better ask John to get the notes photocopied, as well. A couple copies would be nice to have.

Chiyoh had stated over text to him that she didn’t need help with somewhere to stay, and had several things to do with her time in the states besides, declining his offer to stay, which was fine by him.

 

With one major thing done from his list of things to do, Stiles takes a few days to just catch up on his work, managing to complete a commission for engraving and enchanting protection runes into a jeweled pendant and bracelet set for a client.

Engraving jewelry was delicate work, but well worth the effort it takes to engrave them.

Peter shows up in the afternoon a few days later with a gorgeous reddish-brown dog on his heels, and all hell breaks loose in the house. Figuratively.

 

When Stiles thumps his way down the stairs, Simon and Emma are absolutely cooing over the dog in the entryway, and Will is on the floor, hugging and petting the dog with more vigor and enthusiasm than Stiles had ever seen from him before.

Isaac was not quite as enthusiastic about the dog as Simon or Emma, but he wasn’t frothing at the mouth to pick a fight with Winston- as Will was lovingly referring to the dog- so Stiles wasn’t too worried. Winston seemed to be a friendly dog, and Will had mentioned several times about how well behaved his dogs were.

Peter walks around Will on the floor to stand next to him, before addressing him and Will both.

“It took me a little more effort to find Winston than I thought it was going to, but I did it. Stopped at a vet’s office to make sure that he was healthy on the way here, the vet said he’s in perfect health.” Peter says cheerfully.

Will looks up in Peter’s direction, in a bit of shock, but also clearly grateful.

“I… I don’t know what to say. Thank you, really. You have no idea how much this means to me.” He says softly, still scratching Winston gently under the chin.

“You’re welcome. I wish I could have done more, but I could only manage to find Winston and convince his owners to give him up. The other ones I could find and couldn't convince to give them up, I made sure were being taken good care of.” Peter tells him.

Will smiles ruefully. “Thanks.”

Peter nods once, before turning to look at Simon and Emma.

“I picked up a few things for the pup on the way here. A few bowls, a bed, a few lint rollers. There’s a leash in the car too, but Winston was so well behaved I didn’t feel the need to use it. Would you mind bringing it all in?” Peter asks them.

Simon and Emma both nod, grinning.

“Sure! Winner gets dibs of petting Winston first!” Emma says, laughing cheerfully, and both Emma and Simon maneuver as quickly as possible around Will and Winston on the floor and head outside.

Peter shakes his head. “Awfully competitive, aren’t they?”

Stiles snorts. “A little bit. I think Emma likes being the oldest one in our age group here, and is a little bossy because of it, and Simon allows it because he is used to it from his sister.”

“Ah. And you too?”

“Nah, not really, and besides, I’m not the youngest. That would be Isaac.” Stiles says.

“Hey! Only by a few months!” Isaac protests.

“You’re still younger than me. Besides, everyone’s always saying that I act older than I look. By that train of thought, I am older than all of you.” Stiles points out, waving a hand around.

Isaac gives him a confused and disgruntled look. “That doesn’t even make sense!”

“Makes sense to me.” Peter says cheerfully, and Isaac gives him a dirty look, shaking his head.

The front door then swings open in a slightly violent manner, and Simon comes rushing in, holding a decently large dog bed.

“I win!” Simon singsongs, Emma following just behind him, holding all of the rest of the things.

“You literally grabbed one thing!” Emma complains.

“Yes, but there were no rules about what we had to grab in order to win, and this is a large object.” Simon says, grinning at her.

“You can just leave it all in the living room for now, Will can decide where to put it later.” Stiles says to them, and they both head towards the living room, still arguing.

Peter shakes his head, chuckling. “Magnus would be so proud. Arguing on definition and technicality?”

Stiles shakes his head, letting out a laugh. “Yeah, that would be my fault. We had an argument on technicality when someone ate the last slice of the apple tart I made, and they have not gotten any better since then.”

“Sounds rough.”

“Oh, no, it’s been hilarious actually,” Stiles says to him. “Even Tony’s joined in once or twice.”

“I’ll say it again, I did not eat the last slice!” Isaac exclaims rather loudly, before heading towards the living room.

Stiles gestures as Isaac leaves. “See what I mean?”

Peter shakes his head again, before stepping over to gently help the struggling Will get up off the floor. Will nods his thanks, Winston sitting patiently and wagging his tail next to Will, standing to follow him out of the room.

Moving to follow them, Stiles’ phone began ringing in his pocket, and he waved Peter off as they both moved towards the living room, Stiles heading to the kitchen before answering. Not that it really matters, when everyone in the house has super hearing, but the illusion of privacy is important.

Checking the number to see Sam’s number, Stiles picks up.

“Hey Sam, what’s up?” He asks.

“Hey, so, do you remember that vampire that you asked us to find? Camille?” Sam asks him, his tone just a little tense. There is the sound of a struggle in the background.

“Yeah, of course. Did you find her?” He asks.

Dean’s voice comes through the phone, sounding more than slightly aggravated and more distant than Sam’s voice. “Yeah, but she was a bitch to find. Almost got away from us, but we caught up to her!”

“We did catch up to her, but she wasn’t easy to find, and we almost lost her after the first place we tried to find her at.” Sam explains, his tone accusatory.

“That was not my fault! I wasn’t expecting friggin’ booby traps, okay?!” Dean yells back.

“Dean, please stop talking and finish with the knot you are tying. I do not like holding the vampire.” Castiel’s voice comes through, and Stiles can’t help chuckling a little Castiel’s deadpan tone.

“You needed some blood, right?” Sam asks.

“Yeah. There’s a ritual I need it for, I don’t think we need too much for it.”

“Okay, not a problem. Planned ahead and we should have everything in the Impala.” Sam says in a reprimanding tone, the phone jostling against the receiver.

“I didn’t touch your things this time! Especially not your stupid blood bag stuff! Calm down!” Dean yells.

“I didn’t say you did!” Sam yells back. “Will you finish already?!”

“Don’t rush me! I’ll be done when I’m done, okay?!” Dean yells.

“Dean!” Castiel says sharply.

Sam waits a few seconds before speaking again, a door shutting in the background, the other background sounds fading out.

“We’ll have the blood you want in an hour or two at most, but if you want her alive, you better come get her. Dean doesn’t seem to like her very much, and she’s liable to not be alive if you don’t.” Sam tells him.

Stiles nods his head. “Yeah. She needs to be alive until we end the blood bind or else it could be very painful for anyone connected to her, and I’m sure that the DuMort would be delighted to put her on trial for her various crimes after that.”

“Alright. I’ll let Dean and Cas know.” Sam says.

“I’ll have to talk to Magnus and Lily Chen before I head your way, but go ahead and send me a text with the location.”

“Sure thing. See you soon Stiles.”

“See ya.” Stiles says, before hanging up.

Stiles takes a deep breath, and then heads out to the living room.

 

Everyone in the living room is sitting quietly, watching as he comes into the room, except Simon. Simon and Emma are both still petting Winston, and Simon is staring at the top of Winston’s head.

“Hey, so, I’m going to go meet Sam and Dean, and Castiel. I’m going to talk to Magnus, but if you wouldn’t mind, Peter,” Stiles says, addressing him, “If you could go with Simon over to Magnus’ in a bit, that’d be great. They’ve finally caught Camille, and I’m going over to make sure she arrives in one piece."

“Sure. I don’t mind.” Peter says.

“Simon? You don’t mind going over to Magnus’ place in a while, do you?” Stiles asks him.

Simon shakes his head slowly. “No.” He says, pausing for a few seconds. “I… I don’t have to talk to her, do I?” He asks, a hint of fear seeping into his tone.

“No! No, not at all. We’ll check with Magnus, but you don’t have to say anything to her if you don’t want to. I think the ritual has to be officiated with you both present, but I don’t think it's necessary for you to say anything. I’m sure Dean and Sam, and Castiel wouldn’t mind staying while we finish the ritual. And Lily is probably going to be there too.” Stiles assures him.

“Okay.” Simon agrees slowly.

“And me, of course. Nothing is going to happen to you, Simon. It’ll be alright.” Peter says to him.

Stiles needed to make sure that Lily could get the support she needed within the clan to deal with Camille properly. Especially from Raphael, if possible. It might possibly mean dealing with Raphael in person, but Stiles would be willing to step in if anything got out of hand. And he would be warning Simon, if Lily convinced Raphael to come. It was more than possible, in this situation.

Stiles sincerely hoped that between all of the people there, the security would be more than redundant enough to keep Camille safely secured until she could be removed, for the sake of everyone there.

Chapter 18: Chapter 18

Summary:

Stiles talks with Lily Chen, and heads off to deal with Camille.

Stiles gives Magnus a short call to let him know that Stiles would be arriving soon, and he’d let Magnus know when to get Simon and Peter, as well as letting him know that Camille would not be arriving without someone on standby for guarding the room. Magnus thanks him, and then hangs up to go make some preparations.

Letting Magnus know that they were arriving and to get Simon and Peter would definitely be the easier of the two calls Stiles needed to make before heading out himself. The next call would not go quite as smoothly, he thinks.

Dialing up Lily, he waits for nearly a minute before she picks up. He almost gives up, but she picks up at the last second.

“Yes, what is it?” Lily asks impatiently. “Who is this?” Right. Stiles always managed to call when someone was sleeping or busy. It was practically becoming a skill of his.

“Well, I have some good news for you.” Stiles tells her.

“Ah, Senior Warlock Stilinski! What can I do for you?” She asks, her tone becoming much more at ease.

“Those hunters I called a little while back just called to let me know. They’ve found Camille. I’ve already got Simon and Peter ready to head over to Magnus’ place, and I’m going to go meet up with the hunters.”

“That’s… I almost can’t believe it. That’s wonderful news,” She says, disbelief coloring her voice. “I… I’ll be there, if you want me to. I'll head over to Magnus' place as soon as I can.”

Stiles takes a deep breath, and then agrees. “I would appreciate that. But I want to ask a favor of you first.”

“Sure. What do you need?” Lily asks.

Stiles sighs. “You’re not going to like it.”

Lily laughs bitterly. “This is Camille we're talking about. I’m not going to enjoy any of it,” She pauses briefly in consideration. “Except maybe if she’s suffering. Then I might.” She says.

Stiles snorts before responding. “Yeah. The thing is, Camille only needs to be present for the ritual. After that, if the DuMort wants her, they can have her. I'm sure they would be willing to see that she faces the appropriate punishment.”

“I don’t see how that's a favor. Raphael and the rest of the DuMort would love to see her suffer for her past actions. Myself included.”

“That’s… Kind of the problem? The problem is, the ritual doesn’t just work for Simon. It works for anyone who shares the same type of bond with Camille. Which means that it won’t just be Simon whose bond will be broken with her.”

“I haven’t heard the full extent of what the ritual would do before now, but I don’t think anyone is going to complain, if that’s what you're worried about. I know some who’d rather have never had any bond with that vile woman.” Lily says.

“Well, Simon is going to be present during the ritual, obviously. And I assume that the others at the DuMort will want to oversee her transfer there, and that will involve someone other than just yourself. Not that I think you probably couldn’t handle her yourself, but I would feel immensely better if you didn’t.

Not to mention that even if the bond is broken, the others at the DuMort are going to know that it was Simon, even if he’s long gone by the time you show up to retrieve Camille.

The only way the ritual works is if someone with a connection through blood to Camille has the bond broken, so the others that have the same bond will realize that it was Simon. The ritual itself isn’t too difficult to learn of, and if anyone ends up questioning Camille, I’m sure she would just love to tell anyone all about what and who was there.” Stiles explains.

“So what you are saying is that you want someone else present at the ritual?” Lily asks. “I might be able to swing someone to join us, but I’m not sure who I’d be able to convince to join me, as of yet.”

“What I’m trying to say is that Raphael needs to know. And that means he’s going to want to be there himself.” Stiles tells her.

“That’s… I don’t think I need to tell you how horrible of a plan that is. Raphael has not gotten any better since Simon left. There is a bounty on his head, Stiles, for goodness sake!” She scoffs in disbelief.

“Which Raphael put there. Look, of Simon or Camille, which one do you really think Raphael’s going to focus on if he was there?”

“Truthfully? Simon.” Lily says. “He grumbles and complains non-stop about Simon this or Fledgling that. Honestly, I think the rest of the Clan wishes he would just try to make up with Simon so he’d stop.”

“You get my point, though. Look, I’ll warn Simon, and if Raphael tries even one thing, Magnus or I can just kick him out. But it’d be better if he did know sooner rather than later. He’s going to be involved at some point, so I’d prefer it if it was sooner.”

Lily sighs. “It’ll take me some time. It won’t be easy. He will have many protests, and I'll probably have to convince him I'm not some kind of traitor.”

“I know, but it's the best option for getting him involved. I’ve got to drive to go meet the Winchesters, and they’re at least eight hours away. They’ve got Camille somewhere in downtown Kansas City, it’ll take me a while to get there from where I’m at now.”

“I guess I’ll get started then.” Lily says tiredly.

“Thanks Lily, I appreciate it.”

“Yeah. Goodbye.” Lily says shortly, and then hangs up.

 

Stiles pockets his phone, and goes to gather his equipment. Safety would be his highest priority, in this case.

His daggers, a vial of crushed rose petals, salt, and a coil of rope that had been soaked with holy water. He might need them, at some point.

Saying his goodbyes to everyone, Stiles hops in his truck before settling in to drive over to where Sam had sent him the address of. It was a warehouse building, settled among some other older industrial type buildings. It was already late in the afternoon, but travelling to New York afterwards would put the time forward anyways, so Stiles just decides to stop for some really strong coffee on the way.

It’d be good to see Sam and Dean again, but this was not going to be fun. At all.

Chapter 19: Chapter 19

Summary:

With the help of Magnus, some Shadowhunters, and the Winchesters, the ritual to cleanse Simon's blood begins.

It took about as long as Stiles expected to get to Kansas City when he finally did get there. It was now well past 7 in the evening, but his work was just beginning.

Parking next to the Impala, Stiles notes that their car was parked in a fairly discreet location behind the warehouse. Well, as discreetly as a vintage muscle car could be parked, anyway. He sends a quick text to Magnus before hopping out of the cab of his truck.

Stiles spots a metal door propped open, the door up a few concrete steps to one side of the building, and heads there after grabbing his equipment out of the back of the cab.

Rapping his knuckles on the door, he pokes his head in.

“Yo, anybody in here?” He asks, smiling playfully.

The warehouse is a little decrepit, but it's easy to spot where Sam and Dean have been. There’s light from around a small corner inside the building and muffled voices.

Sam comes around the corner, waving him over with a smile.

“Hey, over here.” He says, a wide grin coming to his face. As Stiles gets closer, it’s easy to tell that Sam is tired, but still awake and alert.

Sam pats him on the shoulder before directing him to look over where the other two are standing.

Dean is leaning against a concrete wall, his head now turned and looking his way. Castiel is standing on the other side of where Camille is sitting, tied down very securely to a chair. Castiel nods briefly to him before staring at Camille again, his attention affirmed on her.

“Finally, took your sweet time getting here, buddy.” Dean huffs.

Stiles raises his hands in a placating gesture, shaking his head. “I got here as fast as I could, okay? I’m here now, anyway.” He says.

“Great, then we can get this over with,” Dean says, and moves to get up.

Sam turns to him to speak before he jerks his thumb over his shoulder, pointing. “I left the blood on ice in a cooler, I’ll go grab it. Be right back.” He says, and jogs over towards the door.

Dean picks a rifle up off the floor, grabbing and shutting off the lantern that was sitting nearby, rifle resting against his arm. “So, where are we headed? And what exactly do you got planned for her?” Dean asks, gesturing to Camille. The bag over her head twitches minutely, but she doesn’t make any sound.

“I talked with Lily, and she’s convincing Raphael to come to the ritual. Once we’re done, She’s going to go on trial, I believe.” Stiles tells him.

Dean shakes his head a little in confusion. “A trial?” He asks, “How’s that going to work?” He asks.

“Well, it’s not a common occurrence for Vampires, if I’m remembering correctly. But what usually ends up happening is when a Vampire commits a crime of a grievous enough nature within the Clan’s eyes, they get put on trial. If more than one Clan is concerned or was involved with the crime, representatives of the other Clans will be present during the trial,” Stiles explains, pausing briefly to see if Dean is processing. When he sees that Dean is still following what he’s saying, he continues.

“The head of the Clan will usually be the one leading the questioning, unless they are the one being questioned, in which case the second will take the lead. Everyone in the Clan is involved in a trial, and it can get rather tedious, ‘cause trials can go for days on end. Each member is allowed to present their evidence and give their statement, and it’s a communal decision of what punishment is appropriate.”

Dean shakes his head. “That… that sounds very complicated.” He says slowly.

Stiles nods his head. “Yeah, and it can get emotionally messy, sometimes, and it gets more complicated the larger the Clan is. Usually, most aren’t bigger than 15 or 20 members, but it gets complicated when everyone has different opinions and feelings about what’s going on.”

Sam comes back at the tail end of his explanation, holding up a smaller cooler.

“Got it. We ready to go yet?” He asks.

Stiles takes a good look around before beginning to open a portal off to the side of where they were standing before sliding it over, sending them all through it.

 

Magnus gets up from one of his seats before coming over towards him, clasping his hands briefly, a smile coming to his face.

“Ah, Stiles. Good. You're here.” He says warmly, briefly giving him a hug before pulling back. He looks between Dean and Castiel, stepping towards Camille before coming to stop in front of her.

Magnus briefly glances her over before turning to look between the others standing around her. “Which one of you thought of the bag?” He asks calmly. Stiles guesses from the quick look of concern between Sam and Dean, they couldn’t tell if Magnus was upset or happy about it. Personally, he thought Magnus thought it was a good idea. He certainly did.

Knowing what he did about Camille, they’d be way better off without her inflammatory comments or whatever elaborate lies she could spin.

“Uh, it was my suggestion, after Dean kept threatening her. We had to gag her to get her to shut up, but she was having a glaring contest with Castiel, and it was getting weird that they weren’t blinking after the first few minutes.” Sam says slowly.

Magnus grins. “Works for me. It’s an improvement, in my opinion.” He sniffs, before walking around her, waving his arms in a shooing gesture to get Castiel and Dean to step back farther from Camille.

“Are Lily and Raphael here yet?” Stiles asks, stepping away to look around the living room.

“No. Are they coming? I wasn’t sure if they would be or not.” Magnus says, stooping down to briefly tug at the ropes tied behind Camille’s back, checking their tightness before stepping back, contented with their strength and tightness.

Stiles nods his head. “Yeah, they should both be coming. I don’t know if anyone will be coming with them, though.” He says, before stopping briefly, turning to look at Magnus. “Is Simon here?” He asks.

Magnus barely looks up from checking the rest of Camille’s ropes to answer. “In the kitchen with Peter,” He says distractedly, and Stiles nods before turning towards the kitchen, listening as Magnus calls out behind him. “Alexander and Isabelle are both in there as well.”

 

Peter looks over at him as he comes in, smiling and waving the cup in his hand in greeting, leaning up against the counter next to Isabelle. Alec and Simon are on his other side, the two still quietly conversing. Isabelle nods at him, acknowledging his presence but not saying anything.

“Stiles! Good to see you. Is it almost time, then?” Peter asks, before taking a sip of his drink. Judging by the smell of tea leaves in the air, Stiles would guess it was tea.

“Almost.” He says, and Simon finally looks over his way. He looks nervous, but seemingly determined. Looking to Simon’s side, Alec appears rather stoic and reserved, but knowing a little of the history Magnus had with Camille, Stiles understood why Alec might be a little on the tense side right now. Isabelle was also on the quieter side, and seemed a little distracted, from what Stiles could remember from meeting her in the past. She also looked a little ill, in his opinion, but she seemed fine otherwise. Maybe she was just distracted by the ritual.

This situation did have the potential to go one of several ways, and if it went south, things could get really bad. Stiles had a feeling that the ritual was going to work just fine. He hoped.

Sam comes up next to him in the doorway, stopping next to him.

“Hey, so, Magnus told me that he’s ready for you guys now. He asked me to come to tell you all. Also, I think those other people that you mention earlier, Stiles, they’re here.” He says with a strange look on his face.

Ah, Raphael was here. It must not be too bad if he can’t hear anyone arguing yet.

Stiles watches Simon tense up, before slowly relaxing just a little.

“Well, let’s get this over with, then,” Peter says smoothly, setting his cup down on the counter behind him, walking calmly past Sam, who steps back to let him by the doorway.

Simon doesn’t say anything, but he walks out too, with Alec and Isabelle following behind him silently, and Stiles and Sam following not far behind them.

 

Arriving in the living room, Stiles finds that the living room is still standing, so that was a good start.

Castiel and Dean were standing off to one side of the room, and Lily and Raphael were on the other. Sam walks past to go stand next to them, avoiding the drawn circle on the floor, along with the large bowl now also laying on the floor.

Stiles watches as Raphael catches sight of Simon, and nearly groans out loud as he watches him taking in Simon as much as possible, looking him up and down with a feigned disgust and disinterest.

Simon however, refuses to look at Raphael and goes to stand near Magnus, who gestures to him to come closer and stand inside the circle as far away from Camille as he could.

Really, sometimes Stiles just wanted to trap them in a room together. He probably would have already, if it wasn’t for his concern for Simon.

“Good, now that everyone is here, we can get this all started,” Magnus begins. “Fortunately, since I had time to prepare, I already worked on as much of the necessary components as I could beforehand.” He says, gesturing to the bowl on the floor.

“I would prefer silence while I work on this, if you all don’t mind, since it does require some concentration.” Magnus says sharply, before bending to gather the bags of blood from the cooler.

 

The silence was awkward for some in the room, Stiles could tell. But as Magnus slowly chants, pouring drip after drip of Camille’s blood slowly into the bowl, Stiles was intrigued by the changes in the mixture. As the greyish mixture already in the bowl began mixing with Camille’s blood, the liquid hissed, bubbling the tiniest bit. The violence of the reaction became much more noticeable as Magnus pours the last of the first bag into the mixture, finishing with the first half of the process.

Magnus repeats the chanting of the ritual, pouring the remaining blood into the mixture, which continues to bubble and react, and finishes the chant with an altered ending, the mixture becoming still. He swirls the bowl several times in different directions before handing it to Simon.

“Alright, now this is actually the unpleasant part,” Magnus says, and Simon startles a little at his voice. Simon takes the bowl, staring at the now reddish-brown liquid, before looking back at Magnus in confusion.

Magnus sighs. “You have to drink it,” He says, his tone apologetic. “And it will cause a reaction, and it is not going to be pleasant.” He tells him.

Simon grimaces after the first few swallows, and manages to get almost half of the bowl down before he starts coughing violently. Both Peter and Stiles rush to Simon’s side as he continues to cough, struggling to continue drinking. Holding Simon’s shoulder as he shakes with the violence of his coughs, the shaking only becoming more violent the more of the liquid he manages to get down.

Stiles looks at Magnus, who looks concerned, but not in panic mode. Simon manages to choke down the last bit of the liquid, nearly dropping the bowl, Peter barely managing to catch it before it hits the ground. Simon sags against him, Peter no longer holding Simon up. Simon’s skin has turned a very sallow gray, and Stiles concern rockets.

With how violently the choughs are shaking Simon’s body, Stiles is briefly reminded of Erica, with how Simon is now leaning against him, still wracked by shaking. Stiles is just as concerned now as he was back then, trying to gently pat Simon’s back to try and help with his coughing.

 

Slowly though, over a few minutes, the coughing becomes less violent, until it ceases completely. Simon’s skin slowly recovers what little color it had, and Simon slowly becomes aware again.

The tension in the room eases when Simon finally opens his eyes again, finding Magnus.

Simon violently shudders. “Ugh… Never, and I mean… Never, doing that… again.” He says slowly.

Magnus chuckles, coming over to his side, crouching beside him, and checking him over, before turning to break the circle on the floor, seemingly satisfied.

“Yes, hopefully not,” Magnus says cheerfully.

Stiles helps Simon to sit up, with Simon leaning heavily against Peter.

Paying as close attention to Simon as he was, he missed whatever reactions the others in the room had when the worst of Simon’s shaking was happening, but judging by the air of concern in the room- even from Raphael- it probably wasn’t pretty to watch.

“Well, it’s done. All of her bonds have been removed,” Magnus says with certainty, turning to look over at Raphael and Lily. “Camille Belcourt is yours, now.”

Lily speaks up, glancing briefly at Raphael before answering. “We have a car parked downstairs, ready to take her.”

Alec speaks up, looking between Lily and Raphael before looking firmly at Lily. “If your Clan doesn’t mind, we’re willing to offer an escort to the DuMort.” He says to her.

Raphael finally speaks, looking his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Just the two of you? That redhead isn’t here, is she?” He asks suspiciously, looking at Simon.

Whatever reaction Raphael was hoping to get out of Simon, he didn’t get it. Alec responds evenly to his question, unbothered by Raphael’s tone.

“No. Clary and Jace both had other things to do, and were unavailable. You’ll have to settle for me and Izzy.” He says firmly. “How, exactly are you planning to get her downstairs, though?” He asks curiously, Camille now struggling a little in her chair.

Castiel walks up to Camille, removes the bag from over her head, places two fingers against her head as she blinks rapidly at him before her head sags completely, knocked out cold.

“I would recommend carrying her.” Castiel says calmly, before looking between Alec and Lily.

“How did you do that?” Dean asks. “I didn’t know you could do that on Vampires.”

Castiel squints at Dean before shaking his head. “It simply requires a little more concentration than humans require. I was perfectly able to.”

Dean shakes his head, slightly in disbelief. “Well then, that would’ve been convenient with that one hunt, ya know, the one in Tennessee, with the Vampire that was very determined to kill us in our sleep?”

“No, you both had it handled well enough. I did not believe you required my intervention on the matter.”

“Well, I’ll certainly beg to differ.” Dean says, scoffing, before Sam elbows him in the side, giving Dean a look.

“I believe that Sam wishes to depart.” Castiel says, turning to look at Stiles.

“Yeah. Thanks for your guys’ help, by the way.” Stiles says, gently maneuvering Simon in order to get off the floor.

“Sure, Stiles. Was no problem. Glad we could help out.” Sam says as Stiles concentrates to open the portal. Alec and Izzy are both working to untie Camille from the chair, Raphael, and Lily watching them.

“Hey, kid,” Dean says, looking at Simon. “Get better, yeah?” He says, watching as Simon nods slowly. “Alright, see ya.” Dean says with a smile, waving once at Stiles and Peter before leaving, Castiel and Sam both following, Sam waving goodbye as well.

By the time he has closed the portal, Alec and Izzy are marching Camille’s limp body past Lily and Raphael and out the door, Lily following behind them. Raphael glancing once slowly around the room before following the others out.

Magnus sighs, before chucking softly. “Well, that could have gone a lot worse than it did. How are you feeling?” He asks, looking at Simon.

Simon shifts a little before responding. “Not great.” He says, before looking right at Magnus. “It worked though, right?”

 

Magnus nods, smiling at him. “Yes, it most certainly did. Now, I would advise not drinking another Vampire’s blood unless you happen to be very certain about them. I don’t want to do this again.” He says. “I wasn’t kidding about preparing this. It took days in advance to find all the right ingredients, so please take precautions in the future, if at all possible.”

Magnus claps his hands together, before yawning and stretching. “Well, I’m going to wait here until Alexander gets back, and then we’re going to bed,” He says tiredly, before looking between Peter and Stiles. “I would recommend that he rest for the next few days, and he should probably have a little more blood than usual for the next few days as well. Restore what blood was taken out.”

Stiles looks to Simon, who seems relieved at the news that Magnus gave him. He smiles before looking at Peter and Simon.

“Well, let’s head on home, then. I think that’s more than enough excitement for today.” Stiles says, his tiredness hitting him a little.

Simon nods, smiling weakly, but very clearly happy. “Sounds great.”

Peter and Stiles get up, making sure that Simon stays upright before portalling home. Magnus waves them a tired goodbye as they leave, humming to himself as he begins tidying up the room.

Chapter 20: Chapter 20

Summary:

Stiles does some work at his house, talks with Emma, and prepares to think about confronting Hannibal.

The morning after finishing Simon’s ritual, Stiles very much intended to relax around the house and just take a day off. With all of the things that happened, he wanted the break in order to do some things around the house. Spend some time with Isaac and Emma, make sure that Simon was doing okay. Do a few things, maybe tidy his study.

First thing though, he needed to pay the Winchesters. He knew that they didn’t really need the support, but it was only fair. Even with Gabriel supporting them financially, they spent several weeks tracking down Camille, and they deserved some cash for it.

After that, though, Stiles stopped at the nearest hardware store and bought the paint that Will and Emma both approved of for the nursery next to Will’s room. A soft pale blue color is what they ended up going with for the walls, and Stiles thought it would look nice, especially with the lighter wood furniture that had slowly been accumulating in the room over the last two months.

At this point, Stiles was uncertain how soon Hannibal would find out, and what his reaction would even be. If Will ended up staying a while after the twins were born, the room that was attached to Will's made sense to become their nursery. Even if somehow things turned out okay and Will left and didn’t need the room, who knew. An accidental baby acquisition didn’t seem that far outside of the realm of things that could happen to him. Stiles had had weirder things happen.

 

By the time he returned with the paint after stopping to pick up some other groceries, Simon was awake for the afternoon, up on the couch watching The Clone Wars with Emma. While still hardly awake, Simon and Emma both offer a friendly greeting as he comes in, Simon offering him a tired wave.

“Hey, need any help?” Emma asks, shouting after him as he walks into the kitchen. He sets down the paint and then sets down the paper grocery bag.

“No, that was it,” He tells her, unpacking the few items into the cupboards and the fridge. Even between just Isaac and Emma, he’s practically making trips to the store for something they’ve run out of every other day. “Got you an energy drink for you to try, it was on sale. Let me know if you like it or not. Oh! And I got the paint you wanted, I set it down in here on the counter, if you want to come and get it.”

Emma trots into the kitchen, tugging on her sweatshirt, moving to take the energy drink from the counter. “Yeah, sure. Will went to take Wiston out for a walk, so I was thinking about starting with the painting. You still have the stuff from when you repainted when you moved in, right?”

“Yeah, in the garage. I can go grab it. Wait, Will’s not helping you paint, is he?” Stiles asks curiously, throwing the paper in the recycle bin.

“No. He’s planning on supervising Isaac and me, but I’ve done some work repainting before, so I told him it wasn’t necessary,” She says, popping the tab open before taking a sip. “He insisted on at least checking in on us.” She says, chuckling. She follows after him as he heads towards the garage to grab the paint tarps and the roller tray.

“Isaac and I moved the clothes drawer, changing table, and the two cribs out to one of the other rooms earlier. He had some homework to finish after- a paper for English, I think. Anyways, he said he’d probably be done by the time you got back with the paint, so whenever he finishes, I guess.”

He finds the rollers, tray, and tarps, handing the tray to Emma for her to hold. “Sounds good. Let me know if you need anything, okay?” He tells her and she smiles reassuringly.

“It should be easy, but thanks,” She pauses to think, squinting at him. “You didn’t see Will this morning, did you?” She asks suspiciously, walking beside him up the stairs, tray under her arm.

“Uhm, no. Why?” Stiles asks her apprehensively. “He’s okay, right?”

She snorts. “Oh, no, no, he’s fine. He just shaved his face. He looks a little different, and I’m pretty sure he’s not too sure about it yet, but I think it looks nice.” She says nonchalantly, taking another sip of her drink.

Stiles shrugs. “Alright.” He says, moving to set down the tarps and the paint rollers. “When are you two planning on starting?” He asks.

Emma pulls out her phone, and sends a text, holding up a finger around the drink. She waits until her phone buzzes before replying.

“Twoish? Isaac says he’s almost done, so, half an hour? Will might be done with his walk by then, and by the time we're done painting should be about the right amount of time for the room to air it out to dry overnight if we open up the windows.” She tells him.

“Okay, sounds good. I am gonna go clean my study now.”

“Alright, sounds good.”

 

Heading down the stairs, Stiles steps into his study and looks around once inside. It’s not too bad, but it could use some work. Certainly not as clean as he’d thought it was, though.

Putting some papers he’d written down into a document and saving them on his computer was always a backup he liked to have, as a way to still be able to find something he’s looking for if he can’t find it after looking for twenty minutes in his folder filing cabinet. It worked fine when he was working and needed that file, and he usually found the file he was looking for the next time he looked in the cabinet.

He also organized his drying rack, for his herbs. He regularly switched out plant trimmings onto a baking rack, letting them dry out properly before storing them away into their own separate sealed mason jars.

He hears footsteps slowly heading up the stairs at one point but he keeps working. He manages to locate the one journal he’d found that had information about Ravenstag in it after he’d moved enough papers that he could find where it was on his desk again.

Which reminded him, he should check and see if John had sent him anything about the notes he sent over. It hadn’t been that long since he sent over the notes, but maybe Sherlock was bored- because he found an email with an attachment from John.

 

Reading through them was- interesting. Particularly the parts that were about Hannibal when he first went to live with his aunt and uncle. But by working out his dietary needs, and seeing his improvement physically through notes made Stiles think that Will would hopefully continue to improve as well.

Will wasn’t having any negative health problems to eating meat the way most pregnant people might, and with Gabriel taking several precautions about getting it, Stiles was impressed with how much Will had improved just in the three months that Will had been staying with him. He was still a little thin, which was much more noticeable on his arms and hands, but his skin didn’t look as pale and clammy any more, and he actually looked alive now.

When he first came to the house, Will looked almost as pale as Simon. His transformation wasn’t kind to him, and neither was his pregnancy. But he continued to improve, and now, he was almost twice as expressive as before and loved to talk about Winston when asked.

Both Peter and Emma were delighted to hear about his dogs, and Will liked talking about them. Taking Winston out on walks was now one of his favorite parts of the day, where he used to refuse to leave the house unless heavily coerced, usually by Emma.

It was nice seeing him get better, even if he kept to himself otherwise. It was surprising he seemed to like everyone as much as he did- Stiles was surprised that Will didn’t have major trust issues, with his past.

 

Which brought him to his current thoughts. He was going to have to confront Hannibal, soon. He wasn’t going to put Will through the trouble, unless he seriously actually wanted to talk to Hannibal, but he was fairly certain that wasn’t the case, yet.

Stiles was also pretty sure that Chiyoh wanted to confront Hannibal, or, at least, be there when someone else did. She seemed pretty pissed when he had been talking to her about where Hannibal was.

Either way, it was going to be an interesting situation. Especially with Doctor Du Maurier there as well. Mycroft hadn’t gotten word from Anthea exactly why the doctor was there, and if she even wanted to be, but Stiles guessed he’d be figuring it out on his own soon enough.

Chapter 21: Chapter 21

Summary:

Dean and Tony are hanging out at the range, reminiscing.

Squeezing the trigger of the revolver, the bullet hits solidly into the center of the target, one, two, three times. The recoil of the gun requires a firm grip, adjusting for the kick, but his grip was firm. The next three rounds hit just as dead center, and the cylinder was emptied.

Leaning back and clicking the safety on, Tony looks over to the next stall and the target next to his. Six new bullet holes lined the target’s center. He removes his thick silencer ear muffs, lowering them to hang around his neck.

“Not bad. Not bad at all.” He says slowly, grinning, looking between their two targets, looking at the revolver in his hands with reverence.

Removing his ear protection, Dean laughs.

“You like the revolver? Bobby lent me that one, it’s pretty nice, right?” He asks, taking his time in replacing the rounds in his revolver.

“Yeah, it sure is.” Tony agrees, slowly reloading the revolver in his own hands.

It was the first weekend in a few days that both of them had some free time, and they finally got to go the range. Whenever Dean was visiting Singer, they would go to the next town over to the outdoor range and shoot for a little while. Usually, they stopped at a nice little diner on their way back for some burgers and fries, and for dessert. Dean liked their pie, while Tony preferred their shakes.

 

Tony had been nervous when he first met Dean and Sam Winchester, that day in the boatyard. He’d heard plenty of stories about hunters, ever since he was a young wolf from down south.

The Winchesters were more of a cautionary tale for younger wolves when he was in New York, not a concern for anyone unless you killed somebody. He was mostly a loner, then, but he still talked with some of the younger wolves, the ones who didn’t care so much about rules.

 

He and Emma were next to each other on the boat, down in cages welded to the floors and walls. The body in the cage next to his wasn’t moving at all. It was dark, though he could see well enough, as could most of the others down there. The passing days were hard to tell, down there. They talked sometimes quietly, when the members of the Circle weren’t around, gloating about their holy war, or dragging another body in past them, screams following them as they passed.

It had been several days, at least, but he had no idea how many for sure when it happened. That’s when he'd heard it. Shouts from above deck. Then, screeching, horrible and animal-like. A Circle member entered through the right side doorway, walking hurriedly down the aisle of cages, blade drawn.

Closest to the left side doorway, Tony watched with horrified fascination as the door swung open with force, watching as several people entered. A slender, black-haired man drew a gun, firing once directly into the approaching Circle member’s head, watching blankly as he fell, crumpling on the floor.

Two more people drew past the tall man, moving around him to walk into the room.

A tall, broad-shouldered man with a shock of short, deep blue hair, and a smaller woman with long black hair, fair features, and the tattoos of a Shadowhunter up and down her arms, wielding a sword and a whip.

 

The three of them began freeing prisoners, including himself. The body in the cell next to his was actually a half-dead vampire, which he offered to carry for the blue-haired Warlock, Damien. Chaos was going on outside. While it appeared there were only a few dozen or so individuals attacking the Circle, the demons and Circle members were clearly outmatched.

Getting off the boat with relative ease, the tall, black-haired man directed him with a British accent to head towards one of the warehouse buildings, to a doctor. The Warlock and Shadowhunter were guiding some of the other prisoners, the Shadowhunter woman killing a demon attempting to rush them as they left.

A short, blond, friendly tempered doctor with a British accent directed him to set down the vampire on a makeshift cot, and then to sit. A young werewolf comes over to check on him, but Tony brushes him off to go help someone else.

He was fine. He’d healed relatively easily, though the Circle had beat him pretty hard when they caught him.

By the time he was getting restless from sitting with all the sound going on, it was done.

The chilling sound of baying hounds cut through the bay, despite the thick concrete walls around them in the warehouse, and it was over.

Of the many people who came through in the next few hours, many of them were memorable. Warlocks, vampires, even, a few other species he couldn’t tell just from looking at them.

Even a few hunters, all of which were perfectly tempered, despite how tired and dirty they were. One of them, a brown-haired man with green eyes, ended up sitting down next to him with a heavy sigh and a wince.

And that’s how he met Dean Winchester, hunter of legend.

When a younger man approached Dean to talk briefly, he also met his soon to be roommate. Stiles was a pleasant, friendly sort.

Dean and he had ended up striking up a conversation, and Tony didn’t even mind when Dean did a double-take when he realized he was a werewolf. His friend that smelled like ozone and lightning was strange, but after a while, Castiel didn’t mind Tony coming around to go shooting with Dean.

Tony didn’t mind all that much, Castiel was just figuring out how to adjust to humans, and to Dean.

 

His life was much better now too. Having regular contact with several werecreatures was helping, and Stiles was his own special entity. Despite not being a werewolf, Stiles was well adjusted to living with and providing the comfort of contact with werewolves.

Emma moved in too, along with a young vampire man, Simon. A few months later, a young blond werewolf moved in, and later, a Ravenstag. An odd collection, for sure, but they worked.

Stiles was clearly in charge, and Tony was fine with that. He was suited for it, really.

Lately, Stiles had been helping Will figure out his stuff. Stiles had warned him that he was leaving to go to Italy soon, but that he was fine with popping over with him to Singer’s place for a bit.

While he and Dean were here at the range, Stiles was talking with Sam and Gabriel over at Singer's about where he was going.

Tony wasn’t worried. He knew that Stiles was more than capable of looking after himself. He also hoped that he got a chance to punch this Hannibal fella square in the jaw, just the once. He rightly deserved at least that much.

Chapter 22: Chapter 22

Summary:

Stiles arrives in Italy in search of Lecter.

Sitting in the front of the taxi, Stiles checks the lock of the briefcase one more time, fiddling with the lock, before turning back to listen to the conversation going on behind him.

“- And the small local dining spots? Mmm, remind me to take you to some of these places, some of these restaurants have been family-run for generations, and are sooooo good. There’s this one place, we’ll have to stop there, their pasta is made fresh in house, and it's absolutely delicious.” Gabriel says, groaning at the thought of the food he was describing.

“Sure thing, that sounds pretty good. I want to see some of the scenery though, I never thought I’d get to go here someday, and I have so many places I want to see,” Sam says a little excitedly, “The architectural design on some of the places here are spectacular, even in photos. And the history of some of it is really intriguing.”

“I’m sure we can make time if we need to,” Gabriel says reassuringly with a soft grin.

“It’s fine if you guys want to take off when we get to the hotel,” Stiles tells them, leaning his head to look over the headrest behind him, “I can handle this on my own, and besides, I won’t be on my own. Chiyoh’s showing up at some point. She said she’d let me know when she’d arrived in Italy.”

Gabriel chuckles, shaking his head determinedly. “Heard you the first time. And the three times after that, and we both agreed to be here for backup, so right now, we’re not going anywhere.” Sam nods his head in agreement, giving Stiles one of his looks before turning to talk to Gabriel again.

Stiles catches the cabbie looking at their exchange curiously, and Stiles turns to him, and briefly says, “We're here to deliver some final court papers, the guy fled the States recently,” gesturing to the briefcase at his feet.

The cabbie shakes his head before looking back to the road, muttering something under his breath about idiots and money in Italian.

 

Magnus’ idea was genius, actually. He’d gotten a lawyer to draft up the papers without asking too many questions and some extra generous fees, and had Will and Stiles consult and research the drafts with him. The final drafts of financial support papers were now sitting in his briefcase, Will’s signature already signed on the relevant documents.

It was a double slap in the face, essentially. A one-two punch of information delivery, and the financial support papers for Will, and the twins. The twins were due in a few short months, and it was about time that Lecter found out. He was wealthy enough that it shouldn't matter if Will was receiving even a fairly healthy amount of financial support, though Will had received a decent settlement amount when he quit from the Bureau and made lawsuit threats for his poor treatment by them.

If Lecter refused to pay the amount that Magnus had come up with after investigating the Lecter finances, Magnus had also had drafts of restraining orders drawn up.

Not that that would deter Hannibal Lecter much, but Stiles and Magnus were more than willing to get federal entities involved if Lecter refused the papers, and chose not to make amends to Will. Anything was possible at this point, and they both knew to be well prepared for anything.

But hey, at least Mycroft was offering complimentary hotel rooms during the trip if Stiles updated him on the progress of how things go. That was pretty nice.

 

The cab pulls to a stop in front of a decent looking hotel, and Stiles pays the driver while Gabriel and Sam grab their bags from the back.

Standing in front of the building, Stiles checks his phone while Gabriel and Sam gather next to him with their bags.

“Alright, looks like our rooms are on the second floor. Mycroft said to just check in with the front desk, and there shouldn't be any problem getting keycards for our rooms. He also said to check in the room next to my assigned room, but he’d didn’t say why.”

Gabriel shrugs. “Sounds, weird, but okay," He says to Stiles. "Let’s go. After you,” He says lightheartedly to Sam, giving him a comically exaggerated bow, grabbing Sam’s large suitcase and lifting it with ease. Sam rolls his eyes fondly at the gesture, shaking his head amusedly.

The front desk help handed over the keycards to them with no problems, and the three of them headed up to their rooms. When they arrived, Stiles noted the room that Mycroft had directed them to stop by was indeed nearest to his, while Gabriel and Sam’s shared room was across the way diagonally.

The two of them head into their room, while Stiles steps over to the room next to his, standing in front of it. Gabriel and Sam both pop back out of their room and stand behind him.

“So, what exactly are we supposed to be looking for here?” Gabriel asks, inspecting the door with somewhat of an expectant look.

Stiles hums, unsure. “I don’t know, but I guess we can knock and see what happens.” He says, shrugging.

He knocks twice on the room door and waits to see if anyone answers.

 

Muffled sounds come from behind the closed door, and a few soft footsteps come closer to the door before a few seconds of silence and barely audible voices.

 

The door swings open, a man opening the door only to about half-way, giving them a razor-thin smile as he bars the door with his arm.

“What is it?” He asks, with a soft, but noticeably British accent. The man is fairly tall, blond, and dressed in an expensive dress shirt and slacks. His gaze is sharp as he stares at them, blue eyes exemplifying his icy cold expression.

“I said let them in James, not interrogate them,” A voice calls out in a British accent, slightly irritated, “Come in, please!” The voice adds pleasantly.

The man, James, slowly steps back and swings the door open wide enough for them to pass by, moving his arm back slowly. He watches silently as all three of them pass by into the room standing by the bed nearest the door. There are two singles beds in the room, and the other is occupied.

Sitting cross-legged on top of the other bed was a man in a sweater and slacks, typing rapidly on a laptop. With dark hair, pale skin, and facial features that had a passing resemblance to Sherlock, Stiles was going to guess he was their third brother, Quinn. The one who worked with computers and explosives, according to Mycroft.

He looks up from the laptop, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose before speaking.

“So, you must be Myc’s colleague. Stiles, yes?” He asks, directing his question to Stiles while gesturing for James to shut the door.

“Yes, that’s me. I wasn’t sure what to expect when Mycroft told me to come by this room, but I think I know now,” Stiles says pleasantly, stepping forward and offering Quinn his hand. “Glad to have some more help.”

Quinn shakes his hand once before dropping his hand and continuing to speak. “Yes. Mycroft insisted though I’m still not sure why, as he seemed fairly certain that you could handle this situation on your own. He owes me for making me fly,” He says somewhat resentfully, fussing with the collar of his shirt, “And I think that he’s up to something, but yes, I am willing to offer my help.”

“What do you think he’s up to?” Stiles asks curiously, looking briefly at Sam and Gabriel behind him. Gabriel and James were side-eyeing each other, and Sam was watching them both, amused.

“Mmm, not him specifically,” Quinn says somewhat uncertainly, shaking his head, turning to stare intently back down at the laptop’s screen. “Sherlock is up to something, and I have a few ideas of what it could be. I’m not sure yet, but I’m keeping an eye on things there and here.”

 

“Oh? Anything new here?” Stiles asks, hoping that nothing had changed. More complications would not be good at all.

Quinn shakes his head. “No, thank goodness. This has to be one of my easiest monitoring jobs yet. He’s only left to one of a handful of places each time he has left, so it’s been fairly easy to keep track of him.” To the side, Stiles sees James make a face at Quinn’s comment.

“And Du Maurier? What about her?” Stiles asks. He hoped there was something about her that he could use as an advantage against Lecter, even if it was just that he was alone. Less potentially dead people was good.

“Her schedule is a little different than his, but she only leaves Lecter’s presence for a couple of hours- any much longer than that, and Lecter comes around looking for her. She usually goes out for a few hours to some of the cafe’s near their place in the early morning or afternoon, and reads on her tablet and drinks some coffee.”

Quinn looks up at him from the laptop screen. “I hope you have a plan. This could end very badly, and I’m fairly certain that Lecter already has some potential kills planned. I’ve been keeping a list of some of the people he’s keeping company with, just in case that was his plan.”

Stiles lifts the briefcase, drawing Quinn’s attention to it.

“I’ve got just the thing, hopefully.”

Quinn nods grimly. “Well, I hope that your conviction isn’t misplaced. Although, that’s what James is supposed to be here for. Besides being my bodyguard, apparently.” He says, looking over at James with a slightly irritated look.

“I would be even if M hadn’t insisted, Q, I’m hurt,” James says, grinning unrepentantly at Quinn, placing a hand over his chest in mock offense.

Stiles shakes his head, smiling. “Alright, tell me everything.”

 

Stiles sits down at the empty desk in the corner of the room, Gabriel and Sam taking off to their own rooms with a brief word of goodbye, and an agreement to talk later. It was going to take a little to debrief each other and come up with the rest of the plan, but Stiles had an idea.

Chapter 23: Chapter 23

Summary:

Dr. Du Maurier is not an easy woman to find, but Stiles and his friends finally manage to catch up with her.

That night, while Stiles and Quinn continued discussing the details of the plan, they ordered Thai food to their hotel room. James had stopped by Gabriel and Sam’s room, at Quinn’s request, and informed Stiles that they were both planning on going out together for dinner, which was fine by him.

He had already insisted that he would be fine on his own, and it wasn’t like Sam- or either of the Winchesters, really- got to go out and just relax all that often. Taking some time to do other things in between work, actually planning on taking days off to do nothing. They deserved to have some time off, and with James and Quinn’s help, Stiles could probably manage without.

 

The plan that Quinn and Stiles decided on, unfortunately, would be dependent on when and where Du Maurier would show up. They couldn’t risk trying to talk to Lecter with her present. She could be used to escalate the situation by Hannibal, or interrupt the conversation in a way that they couldn’t afford to risk.

So, the plan was to wait for her to come to one of her usual spots. Quinn pointed out her favorite as being a cafe a decently far walk away from where she and Lecter were staying, where they could talk to her with minimal risk of Hannibal showing up.

 

Anthea had managed to install discreet cameras down their street a while back, so Quinn had eyes on whenever they went in or out. Both Anthea and Quinn had been monitoring off and on for several weeks, at least. Anthea was keeping an eye out and regularly reporting back to Mycroft, while Quinn had only been checking the program he’d made. The program dinged every camera that Lecter passed, alerting Quinn in the program, as well as adding the date and location to a map.

Quinn had added Du Maurier to the program shortly after he made it, and was now also keeping an eye on whoever got invited back to their place. Roughly two dozen or so guests had come and gone for one of several parties, and so far, everyone who went in came back out.

It was a little hectic, but Quinn assured him that he put a subroutine to make it so that the focus was on Lecter and Du Maurier, and that unless he brought it up, it was only those two that he could see in his program.

 

Unfortunately, it was several days before Du Maurier went out alone. It was several days of anxiously waiting for hours, and nothing happening at all.

Sam and Gabriel went out several times during those few days where nothing happened, and Stiles listened as Sam excitedly talked on end about the museums, restaurants, and landmarks that they visited during the day. He was glad that they were enjoying themselves, at least.

Stiles met up with Anthea during that time, too. Which was apparently about the time Chiyoh decided to show up in Italy. Hopefully, they wouldn’t overthrow a small government somewhere together, but Stiles isn’t too sure. Those two were a little scary together.

Anyway, Stiles updates both Anthea and Chiyoh of what the plan is, and both agree to be on standby as a backup for when they do go to the Lecter residence, which would be almost directly after whenever they managed to catch Du Maurier out by herself and warn her.

 

On about the fourth day, the program finally gives them something they could use. Du Maurier shows up at the cafe, and after the first half-hour without her leaving or Lecter showing up, James, Gabriel, Sam, and Stiles gather to go.

Sam and Gabriel arrive first, getting a table outside a little way away from where Du Maurier is sitting. The doctor doesn’t seem to notice their arrival at all. It’s about mid-morning, and fairly pleasant out, despite a slight breeze. Du Maurier is sitting outside, sipping coffee out of a cappuccino cup, reading leisurely on a tablet.

James gets a seat at the table next to theirs a few minutes later, and Stiles waits a few minutes for Chiyoh to send him a message, telling him that she’s in a position nearby to take care of it if things get bad.

 

Once she sends word, Stiles heads towards Du Maurier’s table.

He stands next to the chair opposite hers at the table, and she looks up after a few seconds. Her face is fairly neutral, unrevealing of her emotions. A wide-brimmed, tan, and black bowed sun hat hides part of her face with shade.

Stiles gives her a small smile before speaking. “Pardon me, could I sit?” He asks quietly. Du Maurier doesn’t say anything for several seconds, looking at him with intense scrutiny. Slowly, she nods.

Stiles pulls out the chair and sits down in the other seat.

Du Maurier continues to look at him, setting her tablet on the table.

“Would you care to have a drink?” She asks smoothly, gesturing to the waitress that was outside to take Gabriel and Sam’s orders. The waitress was turned away and didn’t see Du Maurier’s hand wave in her direction.

Stiles shakes his head. “No thank you. I don’t plan to stay for too long.” He declines politely.

Du Maurier blinks, then nods her head. “Very well. Is there something I can help you with, or did you just need a place to sit?”

“Actually yes, I did want to talk with you, if you have a moment.”

Du Maurier just looked at him strangely but nodded again. She picks up her very expensive looking pair of sunglasses and begins to fidget with them.

“Well, what is it?” She asks. Her voice is smooth and calm, but Stiles catches a slight waver in her voice.

“I’m here to offer a word of advice,” Stiles says cooly, “Myself and my colleagues are here on behalf of a lawyer,” Which technically wasn’t a lie, as Magnus was a practicing lawyer by Downworld law standards, “And we are here in Italy to deliver some papers on behalf of a client. Will Graham- I believe you know him?” He says.

Du Maurier sits silently in shock for several seconds, before breaking out into delighted laughter. She laughs until she is out of breath, setting her sunglasses back down on the table. She chuckles for several more seconds before speaking again.

“Is that so?” She says, still slightly out of breath, her tone sounding delighted. “I was wondering when he was going to come along. I’m a bit surprised he’s not here himself, frankly,” She says.

“It was considered, but we advised against it,” Stiles explains.

She tilts her head consideringly. She waits a few seconds before speaking again. “I don’t think I need to tell you that you should be careful.”

“No, you, certainly don’t. We actually wanted to warn you not to go back today. We’ve been trying to get in contact with you to tell you.” He says to her.

“We?” She asks curiously.

Stiles looks over to James’ table, gesturing with a nod, who catches the gesture and nods in return. Du Maurier watches as Stiles does the same to Sam and Gabriel, who both nod and smile at him. Gabriel waves cheerily at her.

“We have a few other colleagues, who aren’t here right now. We’re prepared to take care of this, and we wanted to offer you a courtesy warning to not go back today.” Stiles explains to her.

Du Maurier sits consideringly, before picking her purse off of the side of her chair and digging through her purse. She sets a few euros on the table next to her mostly empty coffee cup, before digging through her purse again and setting a set of keys on the table.

“Here. Take my keys, I’m not going to need them anymore, I think. I’ve got enough money of my own, I’ll get a room somewhere else tonight. Thanks for the warning, and good luck with whatever it is you’re going to try to do.” She says, chuckling again as she stands up and leaves.

Stiles sits for a few seconds, then gets up, pocketing the keys. He sits down on the chair opposite of James, who nods at him, turning back to keep looking around them.

Gabriel and Sam both turn around, looking over at him expectantly.

Stiles takes a deep breath, before jangling the keys in his hand, smiling at them. “Well, that went fairly well.”

With that over, they only needed to get a few things from the hotel before they could go to Hannibal’s, with minimal risks. Then, well, they’d just have to see how it went.

Notes:

Let me know what you think about the upcoming chapters! I’m currently debating on whether Dr. Du Maurier should make another appearance or not.

Chapter 24: Chapter 24

Summary:

Stiles finally confronts Doctor Hannibal Lecter, with the help and backing of his friends.

Setting up for the confrontation with Hannibal Lecter took several hours, even after warning Dr. Du Maurier to stay away. Stiles was very much prepared to go in with only the briefcase and a dagger hidden up his sleeve, but he wasn’t sure that would cut it in this case- no pun intended.

Chiyoh and Anthea had both set up strategic points from on rooftops across from the house that Dr. Lecter and Dr. Du Maurier had been occupying for the last few months; both were prepared with their weapon of choice. Chiyoh with a sniper rifle, and Anthea with some kind of crossbow-rifle thing. He wasn’t exactly sure how it worked, but he didn’t exactly have the time to ask about it.

Bond had been putting together and taking apart a handgun- a Walther, he’d mentioned at one point- in their hotel room a few days prior, so Stiles figured he’d probably be most of the backup if things went south. He seemed the type to potentially enjoy some violent combat every now and again.

Stiles wasn’t actually that concerned about the situation going badly, but preparation was everything, in this situation. Going in without an exit plan was not going to happen. Gabriel and Sam had been insisting that they come along with Stiles and James, but Stiles had dissuaded them against the idea. Stiles and James would need a quick exit if things did go bad, and Gabriel could do it.

Portaling out if things got violent could have bad results, and the idea was to limit the violence, not accidentally bring Lecter somewhere along with them.

So, Stiles devised an idea of having an item touchstone to teleport them away quickly- somewhat like the portkeys in Harry Potter. At first, Gabriel didn’t like the idea of not coming with them, but he begrudgingly agreed to go along with Stiles’ plan.

Instead, he put an enchantment on the set of keys that Stiles got from Du Maurier, which Stiles would need to hold for at least three seconds to activate, and would only work once they had been inside the building for more than a minute. It would only work to take Stiles and James to Gabriel, who agreed to stay behind at the hotel.

Gabriel and Sam would stay with Quinn, who had attached a microphone to James in order to hear everything going on. James had complained the whole time that he was attaching it, but had agreed to allow it.

Stiles planned to put the keys on the inside of his jacket, so he couldn’t accidentally activate them by having them in his outside pockets and touching them. Stiles didn’t think things would go that badly within under a minute’s time, but if they had to leave that soon, James was at least very willing to be a distraction until they could make their escape.

 

With all that settled, all that was left was to actually go and talk with Lecter, which, oh boy was Stiles not really all that looking forward to.

He wasn’t actually too concerned with Hannibal trying to, you know, kill them. At least, he didn’t think that would be the case after Stiles had actually explained why they were there. It was the time before they had explained what they were there for that Stiles was worried about. And the time after they were done, depending on if Hannibal took the news well.

 

It was about three in the afternoon when they arrived at the house Lecter had appropriated when he had arrived in Italy.

It didn’t stand out all that much from all the other fairly nice and probably decently expensive houses in the neighborhood, which was probably Hannibal’s goal when he’d arrived.

Stiles was dressed as usual, in black skinny jeans, a plain gray shirt with his red jacket over it, and black converse. James, however, was dressed up far more than he was. Stiles wasn’t exactly how one trains to fight in a full two-piece suit, but judging from some of the quips between Quinn and James, he does exactly that.

Carrying the briefcase, Stiles gets out of the car that James had rented just a day prior- despite Quinn’s protests. Something about not blowing up rentals? Yeah, Stiles wasn’t sure what that was about, but it sure did seem something like a sore subject between them.

In a casual way, somehow? But yeah. Weird.

Looking around, Stiles spends a long couple of seconds looking to find where Chiyoh was positioned. Finally, he spots her directly up on top of the adjacent roof. Well, just the front bit of the barrel of her rifle, really. It was a bit reassuring.

Turning, he and James make their way towards the front door, making their way to it before stopping in front of the door.

Stiles turns and looks over at James. He appears unbothered, if not excited for the prospect of a conflict, calm and collected with a small, slightly unnerving smile on his face.

“Would you care to ring the doorbell, or should I do it?” Stiles asks jokingly, and James shakes his head.

“Mmm, after you,” James says politely, waving his hand at the door in a smooth gesture, a small smirk on his face.

Stiles takes a deep breath, then rings the doorbell.

The doorbell chime is one of the fancy ones that plays a small melody when it is rung, and the whole melody plays as they wait quietly outside.

A few seconds after the melody finishes, and there is still no response. After a few more unbearable seconds of just standing there waiting, they finally both hear footsteps approaching the door.

The door just swings open, Lecter speaking even as the door opens, his voice deep and smooth but sounding slightly irritated. “Really now, Mrs. Fell, I didn't think you’d forget your keys aga-” He stops speaking as soon as he fully looks up at them. He is dressed in gray slacks and a deep red dress shirt with the cuffs undone, which he stops attempting to button when he sees them.

Stiles smiles politely and then offers his hand.

“Mr. Fell?” Stiles asks, cheerfully. “I’m Stilinski, and this is my colleague, James,” He says, nodding his head in James’ direction to introduce him.

Niceties and manners were of huge significance to Ravenstag, and the best way would be to start off on the right foot and be polite. Quinn had already gone over all of Lecter’s cover identity with him, just to be sure that Stiles wouldn't stumble and accidentally misstep and say the wrong name too soon.

Lecter recovers smoothly from the shock of answering the door and finding someone else besides Dr. Du Maurier and firmly returns the handshake.

“Yes, forgive me, I was expecting my wife,” He says apologetically, with a small smile. “What can I do for you gentlemen?” He asks, and Stiles has to take a moment to get used to his accent before responding.

“Well, Mr. Fell, my colleagues and I have had the difficult responsibility of coming into the possession of quite a few pieces of art, recently. Our client did not have any close relatives, geographically speaking, and his passing left many of his things without details in his will. His nephew had asked us to find out more about the pieces,” He explains. Lecter is listening patiently, though it is clear that he would like for him to get to the point.

Stiles continues, “We were put in touch with a few different local, professional dealers and appraisers, and your name came up among them. We talked it out, and we wanted to get your opinion on some of the pieces' values, and to see perhaps if you are interested in any of them.”

Lecter definitely shows some interest at that, which is just what Magnus had thought, and what Stiles had hoped would work. Looking into his worth and his house’s value in Maryland, Magnus had suggested the artwork angle, which Quinn had helped him refine the details of.

Confronting Lecter directly on the issue at hand was not what they had in mind, after all.

“Perhaps. I would have to see them,” He says, looking down at the briefcase in thinly veiled curiosity.

Stiles holds the briefcase in front of him, gesturing down to it. “We brought a few pictures with us if you are interested- we took special care with photographing them, I can assure you, damaging any of the pieces is the last thing on our minds,” He says, smiling reassuringly.

Now, he looks slightly eager, excited even.

He smiles at them and pushes the door open wider. “Please gentlemen, come in.”

 

James and Stiles both walk in and are directed by Lecter to wait in the lounge while he finishes getting dressed. He had been getting ready to go out, but was more interested in the prospective art, than in leaving, insisting that he’d only be a few minutes before leaving them alone.

James and Stiles both look silently around the room, for several different reasons. The room is nice, as is likely the rest of the house from what he’d seen. Stiles was also looking at which pieces of furniture might be good to hide behind.

They both turn to look in Lecter’s direction when they hear approaching footsteps from up the stairs, watching as he descends.

Lecter returns, now wearing an accompanying gray vest over his dress shirt, done up neatly and all tucked in, matching with his slacks.

He gestures to a sofa for them to sit, sitting down in a lounge seat. “Please gentlemen, have a seat.” He says to them pleasantly. His facial expressions were politely interested, though his eyes were void of any emotions at all from what Stiles could tell.

“Thank you,” Stiles says, and James softly repeats the same utterance.

Hannibal slowly looks between them, and to the briefcase on the floor, before speaking again.

“Anything I could get you gentlemen to drink before we start?” Lecter asks, looking to them for their responses.

Stiles shakes his head. “None for me, thanks,” He says, and James shakes his head in negative.

“Not right now, but thank you for the offer, Mr. Fell,” James says, grinning politely.

Lecter nods his head. “Very well then. What can I do for you two gentlemen?” He says, folding his hands over his lap.

Stiles pulls the briefcase onto his lap, popping open the locks. “I’ll get right to it, then,” Stiles says, gently picking up a small manila envelope, leaning forward, and handing it to Lecter.

Stiles watches as he takes it, and waits.

The envelope was, not in fact full of pictures of paintings, but of Will.

Mostly, it was pictures of him from the past month or so- pictures of him where it was unmistakable that he was pregnant and very much alive. In some of them, he even looked fairly happy- which was probably due to Winston being present at the time, but still.

Included in the envelope were also two other images, which were from more clinical perspectives. One, from when Will first was in the hospital after Lecter had attacked him, and the other from when John had first taken Will to the clinic he works at in order to get a look at the babies from a few months ago.

When Magnus had found out about the first photo, he almost had threatened to rain literal hellfire down on that hospital, but Will had said that he was certain he had the only copy of it and assured Magnus that he had already extensively made sure that the hospital did not have any information on him.

It was not a very pretty picture. His scarring was very fresh, a raw and irritated looking scar on his lower abdomen that had to have many stitches- a wound that was Will was very lucky didn’t do more than cut flesh and nick his large intestines.

As it was, he was fortunate that the doctors were careful and efficient when fixing him up, or else something could have happened to the babies- or to him, if the doctors hadn’t taken him to surgery as quickly as they did. As it was, he was still recovering from when he’d had encephalitis and from his transformation.

The other clinical photo was an ultrasound that was taken of the twins. The icing on the cake of the folder was a lovely picture of the ultrasound that John had taken a few months ago.

 

Stiles watched as Lecter silently looked through each and every image, finally looking up. His expression is very, very blank.

“Sorry to have to trick you Doctor, but we wanted to make sure we actually got a chance to talk to you, without any bloodshed,” Stiles says apologetically, but firmly.

“Why are you here? Should I expect Jack to be showing his face here soon?” Lecter asks, his tone becoming furiously angry, though he doesn't yell. He is sitting unnaturally still, in a way that makes Stiles think of a snake sitting still, posed to strike.

“Crawford?” Stiles asks, then shakes his head. “No. As far as we’re aware, he decided to retire to Florida after his wife passed away. That was months ago.” He says. At Lecter’s disbelief, Stiles keeps speaking. “The only person who knows you, who knows we came here looking for you, is Will himself.” And Dr. Du Maurier, but Stiles figured that wasn’t exactly relevant to the conversation, at the moment.

Lecter looks down at the picture of the ultrasound, before looking up again.

“You want me to believe that Will Graham would knowingly send you to talk with me?” Lecter says, his tone taking a dangerous edge to it. He shifts slightly in his seat, and Stiles sees James shifting too, moving to lean his body forward slightly out of the corner of his eye.

“Yes. And you are well aware of why, Doctor,” Stiles says, slightly exasperated, “As we’ve just shown you exactly why we’re here.”

“And you expect me to believe you? That Will is... Pregnant? Not hardly,” Lecter says, chuckling. With the violent edge to the sound of his voice, it isn't particularly humorous sounding.

“That is your choice, Doctor. But if that’s the case, then we’ll leave the rest of these papers for you to look over.” Stiles says, pulling out the rest of the documents from the briefcase before closing it. He holds them out for Lecter to take, which Lecter does after he looks at him incredulously in disbelief.

Lecter barely scans the paper before looking up in disbelief. “What is this?” He asks.

“If you don’t want to have any dealings with Will Graham anymore, that’s fine. If that’s what you want. But as legal representation for Will, myself and several others insisted that he seek compensation and support for himself, and your biological children,” Stiles explains, his tone tense. Lecter just continues to look at him in disbelief as he continues to explain. “Which, yes, they are your kids. Regardless of your feelings about the matter. They are right now, they will be in about two months when they are born, and they will continue to be even if you choose not to be in their lives,” Stiles says, getting rather heated.

James looks over at him and gives him a look to calm down, and Stiles takes a nice, long breath before speaking again.

“So, you have a few choices,” Stiles says calmly. “You can sign those papers, and choose not to talk to Will, or to be in your children's lives and still do the right thing and support them. You could not do that, and Will will file a restraining order that says you can’t be within a hundred miles of you or his kids. Or,” Stiles says, pausing to grab into the briefcase one last time, pulling out the last thing inside it. “You can call this number.” He says, setting the disposable phone on the arm of the sofa.

Lecter just sits, looking stunned, switching between staring at the documents sitting on his lap, him and James, and the phone.

Stiles nods his head to James, and they both stand.

“That was all we had, I’m afraid,” Stiles says, politely. “Whatever you choose to do next is up to you, Doctor Lecter,” He says, grabbing and closing the briefcase. “We’ll see ourselves out,” Stiles says, and James follows behind him as he leaves.

 

Lecter does not follow them, and once Stiles closes the front door behind them, he lets out a big sigh.

“God, I’m glad that’s over with,” Stiles says, chuckling nervously.

James nods his head. “That wasn’t so bad,” He says, tilting his head in consideration. “Not good, but not bad.” He says. They walk over to the rental parked by the curb, Stiles swinging the empty briefcase slightly as they walk over.

James looks at him over the roof of the car, before adding, “He’s got one hell of a poker face, I’ll give him that.” He says seriously, grinning humorously before unlocking the car and getting in.

 

As Stiles finishes strapping his seatbelt, he just barely catches the curtains shifting on the front window out of the corner of his eye as James starts the car and drives away.

Notes:

Well, what'd you think? Don't worry, Dr. Lecter will be making an appearance again. Any thoughts for future chapters or character appearances? I'd love to hear from you.

Chapter 25: Chapter 25

Summary:

Back in New York, Magnus gets a rather interesting call regarding Dr. Lecter.

Sighing, Magnus finishes pouring a generous amount of vodka into his glass of orange juice before moving over to the living room and collapsing into the loveseat. It was only 3 in the afternoon, but his sour mood definitely called for a drink.

Alexander was unavailable, as the Institute was busier than ever still, even with Valentine rotting in Hell. While not usually his responsibility alone, Alexander was often left in charge by his parents to take care of the Institute in their absence.

With both Robert and Maryse away, looking after the New York Institute fell to Alexander. Which meant, unfortunately for Magnus, there was too much for him to do to come over for the evening.

Jace and Clary were difficult enough to handle, and Alexander had many miserable tales of trying to reign those two in and failing to do so. On top of that, Alexander had sent him a few messages concerning the health of his sister.

Isabelle was showing signs of being unwell, having been injured at the tail end of the battle against Morgenstern on the ship. Even a few months later, she was showing signs of discomfort from a violent injury from a demon that had attacked her- a deep slash that had cut through her upper back and shoulders.

 

Magnus was suspicious, however. Something had seemed… off when she had arrived with Alexander for Simon’s blood cleansing. He wasn’t sure exactly what had seemed off about her, but even he could tell something wasn’t right. She certainly wasn’t as quick with her words, having barely said anything at all while she was there.

He wouldn’t say anything to Alexander until he knew for sure that something was wrong- it wouldn’t do to cast further suspicion upon her unless something was up. It can’t have been an easy wound to recover from- not with the often infectious nature of demonic wounds.

Perhaps that was it.

But still, perhaps he would see if he could do anything if her discomfort continued. Since Shadowhunters were quicker to recover with their runes for healing, it seemed odd she was still being affected by her injury.

 

Startling Magnus out of his thoughts, his phone began ringing in the kitchen, where he’d left it charging.

Sighing, Magnus takes a long draw of his drink before heading into the kitchen.

He sets the glass on the marble counter before picking up his phone. It wasn’t a number he knew, but his work meant he often had clients trying to get in contact over the phone, so he answered.

“Magnus Bane speaking, how can I help you?” He asks, willing his voice to come across much more cheerfully than his previously dreary thoughts.

The receiver is silent for a few seconds before a cultured-sounding European voice finally speaks.

“I was advised to call this number, though I’m not exactly sure who I was supposed to ask for.” The voice says slowly, sounding unsure. He’s not American, that much is very clear to him, but other than that, Magnus has no idea about who this person could be.

Magnus took a breath before speaking. “Well,” He says pleasantly, “Can I ask who directed you to call? And for what reason?”

“I was directed to call this number by Mr. Stilinski, about Mr. Graham?” He says.

Ah. Well, that was quick.

“Doctor Lecter, I presume?” He asks. He adjusts the phone, putting the receiver closer to his ear.

Honestly, Magnus was a little surprised at how quickly he had called. Stiles had only texted him last night about talking to Dr. Lecter, and he wasn’t even sure that Lecter would call in the first place.

Apparently, it only took him less than a day to make up his mind and call. Perhaps he had more guilt about this situation that he’d gotten himself into than Magnus thought.

“Yes, that’s right,” Dr. Lecter confirms. “This is the right number then, yes?”

“That’s right, yes,” Magnus says, leaning against the counter, looking down at his drink. “I’m in charge of handling the paperwork for Mr. Graham.”

Which mostly meant he was the one in charge of filling out the paperwork and scouring the internet, but for Will, it wasn’t too much of a hardship to claim.

“Right.” Dr. Lecter hesitantly says, then sits in silence for a few moments.

Magnus is fairly certain that Lecter had no idea what to say next, and takes a sip of his drink, waiting for him to speak.

“I… I was rather surprised, to say the least,” He says finally.

Magnus hums. “That’s what we’d figured,” He says nonchalantly. “It seems like you were missing more than a few crucial details if what Stiles said is true.”

From what Stiles had told him, Lecter still thought that the one FBI character- Crawdad?- was after him. Which was just blatantly not true. Almost everyone who had been there with doctor Lecter that day was either crippled, dead, or very much not interested in dealing with the effort of trying again.

Even a quick search on the internet revealed as much to him, so Lecter must have been living under a rock or something for the last few months. There was pretty much no other explanation for not knowing what was going on, especially when the matter of those people’s whereabouts should’ve been something he’d be concerned about.

“Indeed. There seem to be quite a few things I wasn’t aware of.” Lecter says, his tone coming across as rather regretful.

“I’d ask what you want to know, but I think it’d be easier to ask what you think had been happening, in your absence. There seems to have been a major lack of information coming your way.”

“I had not been paying too much attention to what was going on after I left. I was under the impression that Jack and, therefore William were still looking for me, although I found it odd that Ms. Lounds had no longer been reporting on their whereabouts.” Lecter says, confused.

The name was familiar, and it would come to him. Magnus squints, concentrating. “That nasty blogger? The one from that TattleCrime ‘news source’?” He asks, bewildered. What about her? The posts she had made on that so-called website were extremely distasteful and inappropriate, at best. Certainly not the best source of news, that was for sure. That comment didn't really explain much of anything, so Magnus waited for him to elaborate.

“She had stopped posting recently, and I had assumed that she was persuaded to stop by Crawford, in the interest of keeping herself safe,” Lecter says as if the answer was rather obvious. “That or her financial freedom,” Lecter says, humor coloring his voice.

Magnus just stops, speechless.

No way, he did not just say that. Really??

Magnus shakes his head, clearing his thoughts in order to actually summon up the strength to respond.

“Doctor Lecter, you are aware that Ms. Lounds is dead, right?” He asks incredulously.

He’d thought Dr. Lecter was a bit out of the loop and not very well-intentioned, but this was a whole other level of unawareness.

 

There was official press documentation concerning both the death of Randall Tier and of Ms. Lounds. The Bureau had to release a statement pardoning Will Graham for his actions, and the other actions he was coerced into taking while in his poor state of mental health. It was part of why Chevy ford was no longer in charge of the Bureau- his ‘retirement’ was not entirely all his choice.

How on earth did Lecter think that she was still alive? Even Magnus could find ample evidence on the internet of what had happened to her. A few news sources had covered it, though not TattleCrime itself, unsurprisingly enough.

What was left of her and Randall Tier were uncovered in several places on Graham’s property by the Bureau, and cleared out entirely after Will came forward about what he was told to do in order to get closer to Lecter.

What wasn’t found of them in the freezer in Will’s barn, that is.

Magnus knew it was Will’s decision entirely to kill both Randall Tier and Ms. Lounds, but the Bureau didn’t know that. And apparently, neither did Lecter, which kind of undermined the whole point of why they were dead in the first place.

“I was not aware something had happened to her,” Lecter says, surprised. “What happened?”

Oh good lord, give him strength. Magnus resisted the urge to facepalm and took a long, stuttering inhale to try and remain calm.

It sort of works, and Magnus speaks again after a long few moments of silence.

“She’s been dead for months now, Doctor,” Magnus says slowly. “In fact, I had Will explain everything to me, and he told me he had killed her, and that he’d told you as much,” Magnus says, trying to not let his temper get the better of him while he explained. “Are you saying that he didn’t tell you that he’d killed her?” He asks, now even more confused than before.

He was sure that Will had said that, but maybe Dr. Lecter had a different understanding of the situation. Maybe Will wasn’t as straightforward as he’d thought he was about what had happened.

“He did. I had thought he was being untruthful, due to encountering him later on and smelling Lounds’ perfume on him. I simply thought he’d brought us some of Randall Tier to partake in, and that she was still alive.” Lecter explains, sounding very sure in his statement.

Magnus pinches the bridge of his nose at that, wanting desperately to sigh in disappointment.

“So,” Magnus says, frustrated, “For that reason alone, you assumed that she was alive and that Will had lied to you.”

This was just getting better and better.

“It seemed rather obvious, yes. Will was still working with Uncle Jack at this time, and it made sense that he was working with him to catch me. I was certain of that after Jack had confronted me.” Lecter continues.

“Doctor, I hate to tell you this,” No he didn’t, he was really glad to get a chance to tell this guy off, for once. “But Will did kill her. He wasn’t lying to you. The FBI found what was left of her and Tier in a freezer in Will’s barn. She’s been dead for a while now.”

 

Lecter is silent for a long few seconds before speaking again.

“What happened to William, after I left?” Lecter asks softly. Although he was speaking quietly before, he was barely speaking at a whisper, now. His tone was different. Sorrowful, if Magnus had to guess what emotion it was.

Apparently, he had a whole lot of things to be sorry for, including but not limited to stabbing Will under the false pretense of betrayal, among other things.

Great. For supposedly being so smart, he sure had made a lot of really dumb choices in a short period of time.

“He was in the hospital for a while, as I’m sure you were aware,” And if he wasn’t, he was after Stiles had given him candid photos of Will’s injury. “At the end of his stay, the doctors had discovered something rather unusual, in that it appeared that he was pregnant,” Magnus explains.

“The hospital was- with the help of a huge settlement that Will had gotten from the FBI for his treatment- effectively told not to let anyone know what had happened, at any point during his stay.” It was a pretty decent-sized settlement, actually. Apparently, the Bureau wasn't interested in trying to fight Will's lawsuit and had decided to settle outside of a court.

Magnus sighed. “After that, Will approached me for help. He was directed to consult with me by Beverly Katz, as he was unfamiliar with both how his pregnancy was possible, and what transformation was happening to him,” Magnus explains. “I’ve been working to help him get everything sorted out, to make sure he and the babies are alright.”

Ms. Katz was a werewolf with one of the local packs of Maryland and had directed Will to speak with him for help after Will had quit the FBI. She had been friendly when Magnus had contacted her and seemed to want to help Will as much as possible, so Magnus was glad she had told Will to talk with him for help.

Will had sent her a letter a while back, but other than that seemed content to not speak with anyone besides his current housemates, or Doctor Watson. Or the occasional visitors- like Gabriel, or Peter.

With Peter’s recent efforts to find Will’s beloved dog companion, though, he seemed a far more welcome visitor than most.

 

“He’s been staying with Stiles, whom you’ve met, and a few others. He’s doing okay, but he’s been concerned about what could happen concerning you, and when you eventually found out.” Which was true.

Will was a combination of worried and despondent with every update that Stiles and Magnus gave him, and rightly so.

With the information they had received from the young woman Stiles had found at the Lecter Estate, it was even more apparent as to why Will was upset by Lecter’s absence, even if he wasn’t sure why his instinct was telling him that something wasn’t right.

“So, Doctor, I would ask that you think about what your next decision is going to be,” Magnus says. “Considering that you did call, instead of choosing the other no contact options, I’m guessing that you have a few doubts about your past actions.”

 

It was going to be a long few weeks of consideration and decisions before Magnus would make any decisions regarding where this contact would end up leading, but in the end, whether Dr. Lecter would be approved to try and make apologies to Will would be Will’s decision.

This was definitely a start, however. Lecter was so out of touch, it wasn’t funny in the slightest. But trying to find out what was going on was putting him on the right path to try and make amends.

The fact that it took him less than a day to reach out was a significant indicator of regret.

Time would tell, however, where this ended up leading him.

Notes:

This chapter ended being a little longer than I thought, so I didn’t get to all of what I wanted to, but I was pretty happy with what I ended up with! Hope you enjoyed it!

Chapter 26: Chapter 26

Summary:

Stiles visits with High Warlock Capire and reflects on some recent revelations- and some past discoveries.

Pleased with how well that had gone, Stiles walks down the set of stairs from High Warlock Capire’s residence, down to the street level with a small bounce in his step, the bright red door of Cassianus’ townhouse swinging shut behind him.

High Warlock Capire and his Senior Warlock, Senicias, were both pleased to hear that the situation involving Lecter was being taken care of and that no one had died, and they had expressed their relief that things went well in the briefing that Stiles gave them just a few minutes ago.

Stiles stops once he's down on the sidewalk to look around, searching for James’ rental.

James was supposed to be parked somewhere outside, though the street was rather long, and he couldn’t see James’ rental car anywhere- particularly not right outside, where he was parked when Stiles had gone inside not half an hour ago. Sighing, Stiles just resigns himself and walks down towards one of the intersections where they had seen a corner market on the way to Cassianus’ place.

Hopefully, he’d be there, since James had been the one to point it out with interest as they passed- but at least the walk would give Stiles a little time to think.

 

After he had called Magnus with thorough details of how everything went the other day, Magnus insisted that he tell Mycroft and Cassianus about how it went as well. But with Anthea present for the entirety of what happened, Stiles was pretty sure that telling Mycroft himself would just be a bit repetitive. Not to mention with Quinn listening in to their conversation with Dr. Lecter over James’ audio feed, he’d probably heard plenty from him too.

Stiles sent him a message anyway, briefly touching on how things went and for how much longer he and the others planned on staying in Italy- a pretty simple courtesy, since Mycroft was covering the bill for their rooms.

A few hours before Stiles left to go visit Cassianus, Magnus had pretty quickly gotten back in touch to let him know that Lecter had already reached out to him about working to make amends, and a few of the more absurd things that he’d said when they had talked.

Stiles was fairly surprised to hear that he’d chose the latter of the options and chose to contact Magnus, at least. Of the options that he’d presented to Dr. Lecter, the one he expected him not to choose was trying to get back in touch. At least, not until Magnus had explained some of the things he’d said to him.

Safe to say, Dr. Lecter was very much not in touch with reality. Thinking that dead people were alive, that people who had given up on ever finding him or any peace of mind were still fervently searching for him, and a whole other list of things that were just mildly disturbing and infuriating to hear.

He must have been enjoying his altered sense of reality while it existed, to say the least.

 

A reality that Magnus had set him pretty firmly straight on, by vividly going over each and every one of Dr. Lecter’s incorrect beliefs about Will or the other individuals from his past.

The list was staggering, to put it mildly.

Since Magnus had volunteered to deal with organizing the initial contact, Stiles was glad they had bothered to dig into Will’s past, despite the discomfort Will had when talking about himself and his personal life. It meant they were well prepared to deal with the utterly random bullshit that Lecter was spouting and to correct him.

It also meant that Stiles was now on the hunt for someone to deal with the potential threat of Mason Verger. Despite Will having said that he’d turned down Margot propositioning him all those months ago, Stiles had a feeling that a psycho like Mason wouldn’t care about the fact that he turned her down. From what Magnus and he’d seen from reading about him in the news, he was definitely going to become an issue if something wasn’t done.

Since he and Magnus were currently handling Dr. Lecter, he wanted someone else to keep an eye out for trouble- Will had certainly had enough for a whole lifetime, and Verger was going to be nothing but trouble, he was certain.

Lily was way too busy, both with the final few days of Camille’s trial and attempting to convince Raphael that he did not, in fact, want Simon dead. Judging from his reaction from during the blood cleansing, that was the last thing on his mind at the time, and she was very determined to change his mind about Simon’s bounty. So, not her.

Gabriel and Sam were busy with the details of announcing their engagement to their family- what ones they were talking to, anyway. So, not the Winchesters. They’d have their hands full with all the details of that for a while.

No, he should definitely ask Chiyoh. Since it was something to do with Will, she would probably be willing to help, and she could handle herself just fine, even against a few well-armed bodyguards, if it came down to that at any point.

Chiyoh then- he’d ask her about it later. Once he finally figured out where the hell Bond went.

He looked around the front of the small corner market and spotted James’ rental across the street, seeing faint movement inside the car. Crossing the street, Stiles jogs over to the vehicle, standing next to the driver’s side door.

Bond was mildly engrossed in eating some sort of smoked meat sandwich, and only just spotted him as he approached the car from a few feet away.

Unashamed, he unlocks the door, and gestures for Stiles to go around and get in the passenger’s seat, resuming his eating.

Stiles goes around to the other side, getting in the passenger seat, taking the time to buckle his seat while James’ finished the last few bites of his sandwich.

Stiles just sits, watching with mild amusement and irritation as Bond unwraps a single-use wet wipe from the cup-holder and wipes his hands clean before collecting his trash into the empty sandwich bag, finally starting up the car once the trash was all cleaned up.

 

“So,” James asks pleasantly, “How did it go?” He drives extra cautiously, taking very great care in following the traffic regulations. He is somewhat pointedly not looking at Stiles when he speaks, as compared to the mildly distracted driving and very lively discussion they had on the way to Cassianus’ townhouse.

Stiles just shakes his head light-heartedly before speaking. “Perfectly fine. Cassianus was happy to hear that things had gone well- although he said he won’t be completely happy until Lecter leaves Italy entirely.” Understandable, really. It was a reasonable thing to be concerned about, considering Lecter's past of irrational and typically very murderous behavior.

“Italy has had very few problems as far as the unusual is concerned- not for a very long time at least,” James says. “A rather admirable feat to accomplish, certainly.”

Stiles hums. “Yeah, and Cassianus probably wants us to help keep it that way.”

James nods his head. “Well, I don’t think that will be much of an issue. From what you and Q were talking about earlier, I have a feeling that Lecter will be leaving soon enough.”

Stiles shakes his head, frowning slightly. “Not that soon, I think. Unless he finds someone other than Cassianus or Senicias to portal him over to the States, it’s going to take a few weeks for him to travel back over, at least.”

James shakes his head consideringly. “I wouldn’t put it past him. But judging from what we’ve learned, I think it’s probably best if he takes his time,” He says. “He’s going to need every second of it if he wants to be in your good graces.” He chuckles a little at that.

“He’ll have to convince Magnus of his intentions first,” Stiles says. “I get to arrange another meeting if he gets that far.”

Among the other things he’d have to deal with, Stiles had quite a list growing. Dealing with Dr. Lecter was pretty high on his list of things to do, but there were a few other things that had come up.

 

He’d probably need to help with Simon’s bounty and the situation with Raphael. Even if Lily hadn’t said she needed help, Stiles personally was sick of it. Right now, Raphael was mostly being a stickler for the rules and an asshole, for no good reason, really.

Stiles had been aware of Raphael’s fondness towards Simon for a while, and he was tired of hearing Lily complaining about something that he was doing to himself. Simon deserved to be happy, and whether that was with Raphael or not, Stiles didn’t care. As long as Raphael was aware that he was doing this to himself.

On top of that, Gabriel and Sam would probably want his help soon too, at some point. Besides Gabriel, he was the defacto for dealing with Dean’s bullshit whenever he got in a particular asshole-y mood.

 

The other night after they had confronted Lecter, Sam had come over after he and Gabriel had gone out that night, wanting to talk to him in his room, unusually jittery and nervous.

Apparently, Gabriel and he had been having similar thoughts, of late. Despite the mark that would show any angel that they were soul partners, and the strong mental bond that tied them together, they had both bought up at dinner that night that they were considering asking the other, and making it official. In mortal terms, at least.

Stiles wasn’t surprised that they wanted to do something like that, although he thought it might have taken them a bit longer to get to that point- but apparently not.

 

It should be interesting, to say the least. He’d never really had anyone close to him get married before- or engaged even. Of all the people in his past, he’d thought that Scott would probably end up with Allison, honestly. Now, it was probably the last thing he’d ever want to go and submit himself to. Just thinking about it made him want to shudder.

He wouldn’t be surprised if he got an invitation to their wedding anyway, someday down the road. Scott was being purposely obtuse, and Peter thought it was hilarious- Chris decidedly less so, however.

Allison was being a little less of a square peg trying to hammer herself into a round hole, with what he’d heard from Peter. Chris had given her a very stern talking to, after the last time Stiles had been to Beacon Hills, and she was slowly coming to her senses.

She was very much still in support of Scott and Derek’s past decisions, so Stiles was still not interested in talking to her, at all.

Either way, the next few months were going to be very interesting, to say the least. Stiles was kind of looking forward to what it might bring- in a morbidly fascinated kind of way.

He wasn’t going to be bored, he knew that much.

Notes:

Any characters you want to see meet? I've got a few things planned for the future, at least, but I'd be welcome to add a few more- I'd love to hear some new ideas!

Chapter 27: Chapter 27

Summary:

Stiles finally returns to the house and gets a chance to talk with Will a little about how everything went down.

The first thing Stiles does after returning home from Italy is to sleep for a solid 10 hours in his own bed. Traveling regardless of whether for business or for fun he’d come to find was a completely exhausting experience- something he was fully reminded of after collapsing into his own bed, in his own house for the first time in days.

It wasn’t the first time he’d left the United States for a while, but it had been a while since he’d stayed anywhere for an extended period of time in a hotel. Not since, well, not since he’d stayed in Brazil to assist Sherlock deal with some sort of criminal network- which, by comparison, his stay in Italy was infinitely better than.

That and the buildup to delivering the papers to Hannibal Lecter had him a bit on edge for most of the time while he was there, which did not help what bit of nerves he did have about the situation. Thankfully, it hadn’t been that big of a deal, since Dr. Lecter wasn’t in a particularly bloodthirsty mood, but still.

Before he’d left, Quinn had given him his non-work number if he ever needed any help, ‘Whether it involved his demanding brothers or not’. Since he was usually extremely busy on his work channels, it might be a bit until he responds, but Quinn said he’d get back to him as soon as possible and told him with an agreeable smile that working with him had been a surprising and reasonably pleasant experience- a compliment, for sure, if his brothers were anything to go by.

James had left the hotel lobby after a charming and pleasant word of goodbye to everyone, leaving to return the rental car after Quinn’s repeated insistence to return it, and to ‘quit loitering and return it already, for goodness sake, James’.

Stiles hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to Anthea before they left and headed back to London after their confrontation with Dr. Lecter, but he did get a chance to talk to Chiyoh.

After a brief discussion on the matter, Chiyoh agreed to look into the potential threat concerning Verger, and left quickly after that, only nodding her head in acknowledgment to him as she left- carrying a bag in one hand and a large case in her other hand that he was ninety percent sure was a rifle case.

As soon as they were all packed up and ready to leave, Sam and Gabriel both had expressed their thanks for allowing them to tag along and essentially to take a vacation while they were there, and that they were glad everything went well for him.

Gabriel also wrestled out of him a promise to come and visit them if Dean was being unreasonable about their announcement, but Stiles was fairly certain that wasn’t going to be an issue.

He would, however, be stopping by if Dean did something stupid, like accidentally ending his relationship with Castiel and rejecting him, or something equally as stupid.

Neither of them were exactly all that good at expressing their feelings, but at least Castiel had something of a reason for why he was unable to express emotions in the way he wanted to sometimes, in that his Angelic form hadn’t really been capable of utilizing them all that well before.

Dean was just emotionally stunted- he was getting better at expressing his emotions, but he wasn’t really a person to be overt with his feelings. The two of them seemed good for each other and got along with the others’ respective siblings decently well- and with Singer, who was as much of a respectable father figure as the Winchesters had ever had.

Quietly, Stiles hoped that something good would come of Sam and Gabriel announcing their engagement- for Dean and Castiel, or for the others in growing relationships around them in their social group. A few of the people in their shared friends and acquaintances could use a good kick in the feelings to get things sorted themselves.

If not, at least their wedding was probably going to be pretty spectacular- probably pretty casual, judging from their own personalities and who some of the other guests would be- mainly Dean and Bobby- but Stiles was kind of interested to see who would be more invested in the planning- Gabriel, or Sam? Or both, maybe?

It was something nice to look forward to in the future, at least.

 

Waking up in his own bed was a wonderful feeling, but he was going to need a shit ton of coffee to adjust to the time zone change. Ugh.

The wonderful thing about portaling to places is that it is easy and convenient, and essentially cancels out the hassles of days of traveling and misery. The downside is that once you have to stay more than a day somewhere else, your body starts trying to adjust anyway.

Downstairs, it was already pretty late in the morning; already almost 10, so Simon had left for his mid-morning class on campus, and Isaac had already been at school for nearly half of his day already. Stiles got his cup of coffee ready and sat down in the dining room, determined to enjoy it instead of chugging it down like a lunatic.

 

Since he’d moved in, Isaac usually got a ride from Tony to school, since Simon preferred to take the bus to campus. Emma had a car and would take Isaac on the days Tony left very early to go to work, depending on how far away his worksite for the day was.

Emma had started working part-time at a local coffee shop for a few hours starting a little while ago, wanting to pay for her own gas, at least. The people who worked there were nice to her, and the owners were actually pretty sweet, according to her.

Stiles had considered at one point getting the Jeep from his dad’s, but he’d didn’t think Isaac was all that interested in driving it, and Simon said that he barely qualified for his driver’s license, so Stiles let it be.

Dr. Martin seemed to like Emma's decision to pick up the part-time job, describing it as ‘an improvement and a step forward in life’, Emma’s exact words. Stiles was just glad that her therapy with Dr. Martin seemed to make her happy, and she seemed livelier in general.

If he thought that Will would even walk into another doctor’s office willingly ever again, he’d try to see if he wanted to go too- though perhaps not with Dr. Martin- though he didn’t think it would matter either way.

Stiles could afford it with how well his line of work paid, and it was nice to do things for those he considered friends. He doubted Will would even accept the idea, let alone the offer, though, so the point was a bit moot.

 

Taking a long drink from his coffee, Stiles sighs, pleased. It sure was nice to be home.

 

After his second cup, Stiles was starting to feel rather energized. He hadn’t really seen all that much of the house when he’d come in late last night, but looking around the kitchen as he cleaned out his cup in the sink, it looked like a few of the less common chores could use some attention- the common areas of the house could probably stand to be thoroughly vacuumed, and the kitchen looked like it definitely needed a deep cleaning, as the microwave was kind of dirty inside.

Not to mention, it looked stunning outside in the mid-May sun, and the yard looked a little sad. The grass definitely needed to be cut, and a few of the plants he’d bought and planted over a month ago were now a little crowded with some of the blooms that were close to finishing blossoming for the year.

It’d be nice to work outside.

Well, he’d better get started. The house certainly wasn’t going to clean itself.

Although, that would be cool. Could he make the house clean itself? That wasn’t weird, right? Mmm, nah, it was probably safer to do it himself anyway. Sentient houses were a tricky thing to deal with, he thought, bouncing down the hall to where the vacuum was kept.

 

Will watched as Wintson keenly sniffed around a flowering bush, looking around as the sunlight filtered through the tree above them. After a few more seconds, Winston seems satisfied and moves away, and Will continues walking back to the house.

There wasn’t a park that was close to where they were staying, so Winston didn’t really get a chance to run around without his leash much anymore. He seemed content to walk through the neighborhood just fine, though Will wished he had the strength to make it to and actually walk all the way along the creek path, but it was too many blocks away for him to comfortably walk.

He was getting close to eight months now, and his back hadn’t stopped hurting in months- standing and walking didn’t make it better, but sitting for too long didn’t really make the pain go away that much, so Will was resigned to it by now.

The twins were incredibly active at strange hours of the day, and half the time he was certain that he was going to piss himself from how hard they pressed on his bladder sometimes.

For a little while, Dr. Watson- or John, as he’d insisted that he call him- John had been worried about the twins pushing too much on his other organs, and that it could cause something to tear, from having been injured internally just months before. After a while, his concern had faded a little, though he did bring it up now and again in their appointments.

At first, Will had only agreed to see John because of how concerned Stiles was, and at his repeated swearing that Dr. Watson was capable and so strictly professional that even Sherlock couldn’t deduce half of the things John had seen or learned in a day.

Having met both Sherlock and John, he had to agree. Compared to almost every doctor he met- medical or not- John actually was a genuinely caring person, and good at his job. When it came to the health of those in his care- particularly Sherlock- he was very serious about his job too.

Though John had insisted early on that another doctor be found to more expertly deal with his pregnancy situation, Will found him to be exactly who he’d want to be his doctor.

With Stiles’ help, and the help of the woman he’d found at the Lecter Estate, Chiyoh, John had agreed to continue offering to provide his care, now that he had more data to work with.

Now it was getting incredibly difficult to get up and move- something he’d mentioned at his last appointment- John had talked to him about that he should decide when he wanted to stay on bed rest in the next month until he gave birth, after he’d talked about his increasing difficulty in moving around.

Will hated the idea, but he saw the possibility of it becoming necessary soon. He didn’t want to rely on others for taking care of Winston, or him. But it hurt badly to move around a lot, and just getting out of bed had become an effort.

He also wasn’t that interested in having to see Hannibal, and not really being able to move. It… he wasn’t sure about how he felt, even now. He still felt incredibly numb over everything that had happened.

Stiles and Magnus were being pretty vague about what had happened still, though they’d said their effort to deliver the papers was successful.

Honestly, he didn’t see much of the point of them at first. Hannibal wasn’t interested in staying, and he wasn’t interested in staying for Will- he’d made that much clear when he'd… When he’d stabbed him and fled to Italy with Dr. Du Maurier.

And Abigail… Will closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Hannibal had made it rather clear that he wasn’t interested in staying. The look of betrayal in his eyes still flashed in Will’s mind, even now.

He didn’t understand what he’d done to make Hannibal feel that way, and at this point, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to find out.

He felt a rather strong shove from in his abdomen, and placed a hand over the spot, rubbing the skin there to soothe the pain away.

He opened his eyes once more, resuming his walk. Winston was happily waiting, and turned, trotting slowly in the direction back to the house alongside him, tongue out and wagging his tail.

 

Though he certainly got looks when he went out, most of the people that saw him just shook it off and continued about their day.

Those in the neighborhood closest to them were a part of what Stiles described as a compulsory ignorance spell- those near to the house would find their gaze turned away, and those who saw any of the residents of the house would feel the same compulsion to some degree.

Those who weren’t affected were pleasant enough, and an energetic elderly woman from down the street waved whenever he passed by her out in her yard, and delightedly asked on several occasions to pet Winston.

 

Approaching the house, Will was mildly surprised to see Stiles out and working in the yard. Like Will, he was mostly dressed for the slightly warmer weather, though they were certainly dressed in different things.

Stiles was just wearing an older band t-shirt and a pair of shorts. Will had found it was rather hard to find anything he actually wanted to wear and that fit him- he’d either had to buy maternity clothes, which just were not really his usual style- or really large shirts way larger than he usually wore.

For his lower half, it was either maternity leggings or jeans, and Will absolutely hated the lack of pockets on either. At least he could just buy large shirts from the mens’ section if he wanted, but- they were a lot less comfortable than he remembered.

Thankfully, no one really commented when his chest started getting bigger too, and the only person who had commented on it was John, and that was to make sure nothing hurt- that is, that nothing hurt more than usual.

Other than that, no one had really said anything, which he was kind of grateful for. It was another thing about himself he didn’t feel all that good about right now.

Seeing him approaching, Stiles gives him a friendly wave with a dirty glove, the other still patting down some dirt on the ground.

“Give me just a sec, I’m almost done,” Stiles says cheerfully, getting up and wiping some of the dirt from his gloves before grabbing a trowel and shovel up from the ground and heading towards the open garage.

Will followed behind him into the house, taking the momentous effort to bend down and unclip Winston’s leash while Stiles put away his tools in their spots in the garage.

Stiles passes by him into the house, gently touching his arm to get his attention as he passes.

“You want some tea?” He asks, smiling warmly. “I set some mango black tea out to seep in the sun- it's decaf.” He says assuringly.

Will nods. “Sure. That sounds pretty good right now, actually.” He says. He desperately just wanted to sit, but that did sound nice.

Winston followed them into the kitchen and trotted over to his water bowl to drink.

Stiles walked over to the window sill in the kitchen, grabbing a large, sealed mason jar that was sitting in the direct sunlight. The liquid inside was a deep, honey golden color. He opens it, takes a sip, then goes to the cupboards where the glasses were kept.

Will goes and sits down in the dining room, sighing in relief as he sits. The chairs weren’t the most comfortable, but Emma had bought him a cushion for the chair he usually sat at, and the others avoided sitting in it. It helped a little with the discomfort, but then, everything hurt nowadays.

Almost like some sort of indignant response to his thoughts, he feels a rather strong kick from one of the twins. He rubs the spot reflexively, massaging at the skin there.

 

Stiles brings out two glasses of tea, both with ice cubes in them. Will takes the glass from him and slowly takes a sip.

It wasn’t super sweet, but the mango was a distinct flavor and paired well with the black tea. It was nice.

They sit in silence for a while, just enjoying their tea, which Will appreciates. Stiles could talk for a mile a minute when he wanted to sometimes, but in others, he was completely silent, and this was one of those times.

Winston comes out of the kitchen and lays down next to his feet, thumping his tail a few times on the floor before yawning and laying his head down.

 

After a few more minutes of comfortable silence, Stiles finally speaks.

“Well, everything went pretty well, but Magnus has agreed to deal with Lecter for now,” He says slowly. He didn’t seem worried, though he did seem a little upset at something else that was bothering him.

“If you want to know how it went, Magnus would be able to tell you more- I hardly talked to him for longer than a few minutes, at most.” He says calmly.

Will doesn’t say anything, though he does look over in Stiles' direction.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Stiles continues. “In fact, I’d completely understand if you didn’t want to talk to him at all.” He asserts, grimacing a little.

That was… an interesting response, for having met Hannibal.

Will sits in silence for a few seconds before speaking. “Maybe later.” He says softly.

He wasn’t sure yet if he wanted to know what Hannibal had to say for himself.

Stiles nods firmly. “Of course. If you want to know anything, just let me know. But Magnus has talked to him longer than I have, and I think he’d have a better idea about him.”

Stiles tilts his head consideringly, then adds, “And I have a bit of a backlog of work, if I’m being honest, most of which is not stuff I can do from here.” He says, chuckling.

Will nods. “I might take you up on it,” He says, smiling softly, taking a slow sip of his tea.

Magnus had been candidly honest in the past, but not unkind. Whatever Hannibal had to say, Magnus would be honest about it to him.

His stomach heaved a little at the thought of having to confront Hannibal, but the ill-feeling passed quickly.

He couldn’t stay away from Hannibal long, he knew. He wanted to know… everything. All of it. It hurt, but he wanted to know why.

Notes:

Let me know what you thought! I've got a few things planned for the future of the characters, including a wedding. Yay!

Chapter 28

Summary:

Stiles heads out to help some people out with their Downworlder issues, creature style.

For a few days after his return, Stiles just loiters around the house, working on some minor chores that needed doing. He wasn’t exactly putting off going and doing what few jobs had been accumulating on his website in the last month or so, but he did need to prepare for them somewhat before he left. He’d be gone at least a week or more, so he wanted to have a solid handle on the situation before he left.

Some of the help requests were posted in just the last few days, and those recent ones seemed more urgent than the others over the last month, so he’d do those first.

Also, teenage Were’s went through food like nothing else, as he’d come to find out. Tony ate about the same amount as Emma and Isaac did normally, so shopping for them all was a blast. At least Will ate in moderation in comparison to them, but a grocery store haul was definitely in order before he left.

On top of that, for the entire duration of while Stiles was preparing and packing for a few of the more urgent job listings, Emma was blasting Anti on repeat from her room and could be heard singing along throughout the day in intervals. Isaac and Simon seemed mildly exasperated at Emma’s antics, so Stiles figured it had been something she’d been doing for a few days, at least.

Apparently, she’d bought a new album last weekend, and had been listening to it pretty repetitively since. At least she kept her music blasting to normal, waking hours of the day, so no one really was that seriously complaining about it, though she got a little teasing from Simon and Isaac for it.

Despite that, Stiles found himself humming what he had to admit was a mildly catchy melody as he drove his way down to Georgia.

 

The first job was unusual... to put it in mild terms.

Something had been attacking boats that passed by the same area consistently over the last few weeks in the waters around Brunswick. At first, it was just a lone fisherman in a small little motorboat, and it was excused away as the local drunk having run into a log and not noticed it- despite his claims to have been sober, and to have been attacked by something.

But after the second boat had sworn to have seen something actually attacking and damaging the hull- though they hadn’t gotten a clear look at it because of it being dark- one of the more superstitious locals had thought to get someone from outside the area involved in the matter, and convinced his nephew to leave a request for his help on his page.

A few more boats had been attacked since then, and both the second, third, and fourth were much larger, hardier boats with brand new outboard motors. Fortunately, despite the fact that the boats had been taking on a lot of water, they all managed to make it back to land to find somewhere to dock, and the group of fishermen onboard the third vessel had claimed to have seen something with a large, narrow head and glowing soulless yellow eyes as it bashed its head into their hull, shattering it.

Talking with the older local man and his nephew, he confirmed what he’d thought it was. It was some sort of water creature, a local one at that. An Altamaha-ha, according to the local man.

It was supposedly a legend, something the Muscogee natives had told stories about before people had fully settled the area. The man said he didn’t know for certain that it was real until he heard what the fishermen had to say, though many people in the past had waved away similar stories as just being a hungry and aggressive alligator gar. Those who’d seen it talked about the narrow, alligator-like head and beady, yellow eyes, which did indeed match the description of an alligator gar. However, from the myths about it, the body was far more like that of a large seal than that of a fish, with a narrow, muscular body and a flat, spade-like tail-fin.

The nephew agreed to help him travel north and to navigate the area by kayak, which was slightly concerning, because, you know… a hostile water creature.

Kayaking around the area where the boats were all roughly attacked, there actually was very little that stood out of the ordinary. They’d left in the morning to look around, but there didn’t seem to be all that much to indicate something strange going on.

The water level had risen somewhat due to some heavy rainfall and had made the open wildlife area where fishing and hunting were allowed absolutely swamped. The area had remained mostly empty of anyone except for the few fishermen who had braved it in the last few weeks, and almost all of them had been attacked around that area in particular.

The nephew told him not to worry and said he knew just the thing to bring the creature out.

The ‘thing’ was a big bucket of fish guts, apparently. They waited until evening, since most of the attacks were around then, and dumped the bucket into the river to try to bait it out.

Sure enough, not one but at least three Altamaha-ha’s were eagerly picking at the guts in just a few minutes, voraciously devouring what little there was to eat in the water surrounding them, violently thrashing the water around their kayak.

After just a few minutes, there were at least six or more swimming visibly around the surface of the water, poking their heads up out of the water, eyeing them, and searching the water for more bits to eat, waving their heads in searching, side- to- side motions.

They were decently large creatures- at least as long as their kayak, if not a little longer. They were a dark gray in coloration with darker colored bony scutes all along their back, with the lower body being counter-shaded with a lighter, pale green color.

Their head was crocodilian-like with needle-thin rows of teeth- which Stiles got a nice view of when they snapped around in the water, mildly agitated and frenzied by the free meal dumped in the water, searching for more food.

The nephew watched them swimming around before they slowly started to dissipate their brief feeding frenzy and swim away, disinterested by the lack of food or motion.

After the Altamaha-ha had all swam off, the nephew told him he had figured out what was happening as they slowly paddled back to shore.

 

The Altamaha-ha were noticeably returning to the area now in order to spawn. Since they were so rarely spotted in the area, they must be fairly long-lived, and only spawn every so often, and were just now coming back to this area to swim to their spawning grounds up the Altamaha River and have their young.

The motors in the fishermen’s boats had probably been drawing the attention of the creatures, making them territorial and highly aggressive towards the strange noises near them, which is why they weren’t that interested in the kayak they were paddling around the water in.

The nephew said he would talk to the locals and convince them to stay away for a long enough period of time in order to allow the creatures to spawn their young since he was well enough respected with the locals.

The nephew still paid the initial agreed-upon amount, even though Stiles hardly did anything at all. The nephew said he was grateful that he showed up at all, and that he and his uncle needed someone to bounce their ideas off of.

It was really interesting to see something so unusual, though, so Stiles didn’t argue with them much. He wouldn’t have seen the creatures at all if it wasn’t for the nephew and his uncle.

 

After leaving Georgia, Stiles heads north, to rural Missouri.

This next job was a lot more life-threatening, and Stiles would need all of his focus for it.

While the first only had some property damage and some scared out of their wits fishermen, there were already bodies involved in this next one.

The client that had contacted him wasn’t entirely sure that the first dead, mutilated hiker meant something, but then the second body that was found, and it was just as mauled and picked clean as the first when it was finally found by the local authorities, which was the point at which his client decided to contact him.

It was a pretty rural area, with dense forest only broken up by farmland that surrounded the nearby town, and only miles of road broke up the otherwise dense woods around them. But since hikers loved to visit and hike around the woods around their town, his client was worried that people would just keep disappearing unless something was done.

His client- a local- didn’t know what it was exactly that was attacking the hikers, he just knew that it was something big. And hungry, if the bodies were anything to go by.

The third and fourth bodies dropped before he arrived, and were just as cleaned off as the first two, some of the limbs were missing entirely. It was all the local news was talking about, and there were enough details in the newspaper for him to figure out what to start with.

The local police force had no idea what was going on and likely wouldn’t be able to truly find out what this thing was, so Stiles just checked into an inn and packed a bag for a decently long hike.

 

First, he hiked out to the area where the first body was found first to have a look around. The area was no longer cordoned off by the police since it had been a few weeks since the body was found and nothing else was found in the area, though he wore shoe protection and a beanie to cover his hair anyway.

Best to be safe and not draw attention from the local police force by completely contaminating what used to be a crime scene. He’d learned his lesson in the past about gallivanting around so carelessly like that- well, him and Scott both, to be honest.

Although, maybe it was just him that had learned his lesson if what Peter said was true.

Anyway, it actually took him a while of searching around, but he finally found some clue of what had happened. There was blood, of course, mostly spattered all around where the body was found- it was all dried up now and faded from some weathering, which was to be expected for a scene outside like this one. If it had taken any longer for the body to be discovered, then maybe it wouldn't have been recognized as a crime scene at all. Nature could be vicious and still thoroughly clean up after itself too.

Judging from this scene, something had violently attacked and then dragged the hiker off towards a pile of rocks on a hilly outcrop, which is where the body was found. It left a massive trail of blood smeared in the direction the body was dragged, staining the forest floor and leaf litter a rust-brown color.

In the outcrop of rocks, there was a large area from which the blood-spattered out, likely as the body was eaten. Nothing missing from the body was found in the surrounding area according to the news, so Stiles guessed that it was an animal of some kind, though perhaps not an animal that the locals were familiar with, judging by just how much of the hiker was missing.

Whatever it was, it was big enough to at least take on all of these hikers. The first and second victim had been out on their own, which explained why they were easier targets to hunt down, but the third and fourth had been a couple on a camping trip together, according to the local news, and were not inexperienced judging from the campsite with their things that was found afterward. The area where they were found was cordoned off, as it had only been a few days since they had been discovered.

Following back along the trail the first victim was likely traveling, Stiles spotted something odd after about half an hour traveling along the mostly unmarked dirt path.

Off to the side of the trail, there was something odd sticking out at an odd angle from a section of a tree trunk. It was well above his shoulder height, nearly out of his reach entirely, but Stiles could see what it was once he got a bit closer.

Hair. A long, thick, clump of coarse hair, in a lightish blond color, sticking out of the bark of the tree. It was so blond it almost looked golden, in the light.

The tree was also partially rubbed clean of bark in certain areas, with a cross-section that had clearly been scratched across the bark horizontally that was well above his head height. Craning his head up, Stiles takes a deep breath and steps back.

While there aren't any wolves in California, there certainly were bears.

 

Only black bears, but regardless, Stiles knew the signs of one. Every other year, the deputies were required to do a wilderness and animal recognition training class, a class that Stiles had tagged along for a few times himself.

The odd thing was that this section of the tree wasn’t exposed to sunlight at all due to the thick canopy of trees around it, yet the hair he found was still a very light, almost sun bleached-looking color.

That was odd, but it was something that could be overlooked, for now.

What couldn’t be overlooked was how high up the marks were scratched on the tree.

Black bears stood on average about as tall as man, on their hind legs. This thing had to be at least twice that size, at least.

If he remembered correctly, bears would usually sit to scratch marks on trees with their claws, and stand to mark a tree with their teeth- which is how the horizontal cross marks were made.

The cross marks were several feet above his head, and he couldn’t even reach them when he put his arms up over his head. The vertical scratch marks that were clawed into the tree were around his head height.

This bear had to be huge.

 

Stiles tracked his way back to the main road, and then hiked back to the inn, vigilant the entire time he power walked out of the woods.

He needed to do a little more investigation on the internet before he did anything else, first of all.

And if this really was a massive bear attacking and eating hikers, then he also was really going to need some backup.

 

By the end of the week, his backup had arrived to take over.

“Thanks for coming, Chris,” Stiles says, smiling. He had needed help, so he went to the next available hunter that he knew of, besides the Winchesters. Chris was pretty decent- and significantly better than the rest of the Argent family.

Chris leans into the backseat of his van from the side door, grabbing out a nylon bag and placing it on the ground as he speaks over his shoulder.

“I was honestly surprised you'd asked, but yeah, it sounds like you’ve found something pretty big here. I hadn’t heard of anything in the area from any other hunter as far as I know, and when I asked,” He says as he places a narrow, plastic case on the ground, huffing, “A few others insisted that I was capable and that I should handle it myself since I was asking about it.”

Stiles nodded. “From what I can tell, this thing has got to be like, extinct bear species size big. If it is, it's all sorts of weird on top of that,” Stiles says, now counting off the things wrong on his fingers as he speaks.

“One, this thing is massive. Like, At least over 10 feet tall when it stands on its hind legs, if not even taller than that,” He says, rolling his shoulders. “Definitely going into extinct bear size territory.”

“Two, this thing has got to be glowingly bright yellow… or we’re looking for an escaped polar bear, which is why I’m surprised no one has seen it besides the people who got eaten.”

“Also, this thing is straight-up weird, because this bear seems to be highly carnivorous, which is extremely unusual, even for bears. It seems to be hunting humans over anything else it finds out in the woods, which is why I’m so worried about this.”

Chris nods, concerned. “That is pretty odd,” He says, frowning. He smiles softly when Peter comes out of the inn towards them, then focuses back on Stiles, continuing to speak.

Peter leans against the side of the van, listening.

“It might take us a bit, bears are hard to spot normally. This thing seems doubly elusive.” Chris says, picking up his bags and cases off the ground with a struggle before kind of waddling over towards the entrance of the inn with all of his stuff.

Peter grins thinly, arms crossed. “We’ll find it for you, no problem,” He says, tapping a finger to his nose.

A crashing noise comes from behind where he’s standing, and Stiles whips around to see all of the things that Chris was carrying had all slipped out of his grip, falling onto the ground.

“Peter, for fucks sake, help me carry this shit in or I’m taking your hide to the council instead,” Chris growls, frustrated and glowering at Peter.

Peter pats Stiles' arm as he passes, chuckling.

“Coming dear, no need to get yourself so worked up.” He says sweetly.

Stiles fussed for a while, putting off leaving, but after Chris and Peter insisted that they would handle everything on their own for the fourth time, Stiles finally left.

 

Stiles was very appreciative when they contacted him at the end of the week with an update.

It was indeed a bear, and Stiles was right about how big he’d guessed it was. Peter had insisted it was more like 15 feet tall on its hind legs, though Chris insisted it wasn’t quite that big. It was also as brightly colored as Stiles had assumed. Chris described it as almost golden, even.

With Peter’s help, they did end up finding it pretty quickly, but once the bear realized it wouldn’t so easily fight off Peter in his partial shift, it fled. Chris only got in two good shots before it took off, and it took them another two days to catch up to it and finally kill the thing outside of its spring den.

It was a large male boar, and his den was littered with leftover bits of bones, including a partial femur and the end piece of a rib bone.

It took them a few days after killing the boar to make sure it was a lone male, and to search for its den, but the den confirmed it.

Chris informed him he would take care of skinning it and delivering the carcass to the hunting council but promised to collect a few of the teeth for ingredients if he wanted them.

Stiles accepted and then turned to his next job. He was headed to California, first. He planned to check in with his dad, and with Lucifer too if he had time, but then to head out.

He had a plane to catch to Oahu.

Notes:

I ended up writing one of the requests from a bit back at the end, so Stiles is off to Hawaii to meet Steve and Danny next chapter! I will do my best. Also, let me know if you like this chapter, I had to do a deep dive into some good old mythological creatures. Apparently, America has a thing for humanoid myths, for whatever reason. Cool, but not helpful for writing this chapter.

Chapter 29: Chapter 29

Summary:

Stiles stops by Lux and then gets in to Oahu to meet his latest client.

Stiles stops in Beacon Hills to visit his dad and the deputies at the station once he gets into California. It’s nice to talk to him in person for once since he lives a few states away from him and hardly gets to see him anymore. His dad was doing well if not a little on edge with worry from the odd situation with Derek and the rest of the Betas in his pack.

He avoids driving near the high school when he stops by his favorite diner for a sandwich and fries to avoid Scott and the others. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with... Whatever the Hell Scott was doing most of the time anymore. It was better to be safe than sorry in that case, even with his scent hidden with his dampening ring on, in case one of the Betas did spot him.

If the ring wasn’t on his finger, it was on a chain around his neck nowadays, since Isaac and Emma preferred it when he didn’t wear it at home. They liked hearing his heartbeat and knowing he was alive and had said it was comforting. It was something Scott had complained about once- something about his heartbeat being too loud? Anyway, Emma had said that Scott was very stupid, and to not wear it around them.

And now, with Derek having been told to leave and work on himself as an Alpha away with Alpha Deucalion and the rest of his Alpha pack for ‘management training’, an Alpha from his pack had come to officially keep track of the Hale pack’s Betas for him.

 

An Alpha Leon, according to Peter. Two other Alphas had stopped by several times to make sure that everything was fine in Beacon Hills, Alphas Ennis, and Kali. Peter said he knew that they had come to check on the Betas because he described his unfortunate encounter with Alpha Kali once in the woods at night, which had not gone very nice for him until he was able to explain to her who he was.

 

Stiles took a few days before the date he’d scheduled to take a flight from Sacramento Airport to Oahu’s airport to go and stop by Lux.

It’d been a bit since he’d seen Lucifer and Maze, and since he was in the state anyway, he might as well stop by and pay them a visit before hauling his ass back up to make it in time for his flight.

It was a bit of a drive from his dad’s to go to Los Angeles, granted, but it would be good to see if anything had changed as far as Lucifer knew about Heaven.

 

Heaven had been suspiciously silent after Gabriel had taught Castiel to hide the signature of his Grace. But Stiles was certain it wasn’t the last they’d heard of the group in Heaven that was trying to start Armageddon. Again.

Far from it, actually, which is why he was stopping to discuss it with Lucifer now. If anything was going to happen, Lucifer was certainly going to be involved in it.

Something was bound to happen soon. The angels behind this attempt didn’t seem to be the kind to know when to quit.

 

Maze greets him once he arrives at Lux, and hands him the key to go upstairs, nodding to him once sharply from behind the bar.

“He isn’t expecting anyone, you can go ahead and go on up,” She says loudly over the music from the speakers, before turning back to tending the bar with an exaggerated toss of her hair over her shoulder, and goes back to mixing drinks for customers.

 

Upstairs, Stiles enters the penthouse, knocking on the door as he swings it open. The glass windows of the penthouse had an amazing view of the early evening city skyline.

As he steps inside, he sees that Lucifer is talking with someone and seems mildly irritated with the individual he is talking with, their animated discussion coming to an abrupt halt at the sound of the door opening.

Judging from the aura of the other being in the room, they were an angel, with Grace powerful enough to parallel that he’d seen from Gabriel and Lucifer both.

Lucifer and this being both looks over at him as he enters, a genuine smile coming to Lucifer’s face.

“Stiles, my dear friend, what brings you here tonight?” Lucifer asks pleasantly, pointedly looking away from the other individual, who looks mildly frustrated at the interruption to their conversation.

Stiles would be concerned at the presence of the being with Grace levels so high they were most certainly an Archangel if Lucifer seemed at all like he was in trouble. At the most though, he seemed mildly irritated at this other being, so Stiles wasn’t too worried about it.

“I was in the area and I wanted to talk about something with you that’s been on my mind for a little while now,” He explains, looking slowly between him and the other being in the room, “But I can come back later if you’re busy.” He reassures quickly, jerking a thumb over his shoulder pointing out the door behind him with a partial, apologetic smile.

Lucifer shakes his head, waving his hands rapidly in a dismissive flapping motion, interrupting the other being to speak over them. “Of course not! Please, come in, come in!” He says, grinning widely. It was a very shark-like grin.

The other individual tries desperately to not sigh and seems resigned as he enters the room.

Stiles closes the door to the penthouse behind him, coming over to the sitting area, sitting down on the arm of one of the armchairs. He looks between the two individuals, the Archangel shaking his head disappointedly at Lucifer, which Lucifer continues ignoring.

 

“So, what’s on your mind?” Lucifer asks, leaning back languidly into his seat. He watches as Stiles looks between him and his brother, Amenadiel frowning further at this interruption.

Well, too bad. He was being so boring anyway, trying to once again convince him to go back to rule in Hell.

It was ever so tedious. Maze had already told him to fuck off once, yet he continued to try to convince them both to go back.

Stiles finally speaks up, ignoring his dense brick wall of a brother to speak to him.

“Well, I wanted to see if you’d heard anything about Heaven’s plan to start the Apocalypse since we’d talked last.” He asks, and Lucifer has to blink in surprise.

Amenadiel freezes, just as surprised as he was by the question.

After the shock wears off, Lucifer collects his thoughts for a few moments before speaking.

“I haven't, no. What makes you think that they are continuing this foolish plan of theirs, anyway? I thought those two brothers were no longer capable of being hosts anyhow.” He says, confused.

Stiles shakes, his head. “They’re not, you’re right, but I don’t think Heaven’s even figured that out yet. Just because Castiel went off on his own, and that they don’t know where Dean and Sam are right now, I don’t think that’s enough of their plan off the rails that it’s convinced them to stop their plan.”

Lucifer shakes his head. He couldn’t believe it, but it made sense.

 

Stiles was right, that was just the thing. He hadn’t heard any word about Heaven continuing their crusade, but he knew Michael certainly would not be so dissuaded from it.

Amenadiel finally speaks up, looking at him in deep confusion.

“Lucifer, what is he talking about? What is this about hosts? And what do you mean Heaven is trying to cause the Apocalypse?” He asks, and the tone of his voice beyond confused and even somewhat hurt sounding.

Lucifer looks up and over to his brother, who, indeed, looks very confused.

Lucifer sighs. At the very least, it was comforting that Amenadiel had nothing to do with their brothers and sisters currently roaming the Earth, causing violence and chaos in an effort to end the world.

 

Not too long ago, he’d heard word that some demons in Hell were working with Heaven to try and cause the Apocalypse to approach faster, to rise in their station, and cause the end to arrive.

It had required a quick trip back to Hell with Maze to find the traitors who would dare work against his orders to stay out of the ordeal entirely, but the individuals involved had felt his wrath for daring to go against him.

Some crossroads demons had to be reminded of their place and were given places alongside the tortured souls they had brought to Hell on the rack as a punishment.

Azazel had thoroughly been reprimanded for his actions and demoted to Duke of Hell. Mazikeen had delighted in sending a pack of hounds to retrieve the errant and arrogant bastard, sending the most vicious of her attack hounds to fetch him and drag him back to Hell.

He had almost considered bringing in Crowley to take Azazel’s place as Prince, but ultimately, he decided against it. His place on Earth had been decided, and Lucifer was not interested in dealing with his panicked and irate angelic mate bumbling about, attempting to fetch him from Hell.

His actions in the last Armageddon were unwelcome in both Heaven and Hell, but Lucifer now saw the error of his ways in his own compliance in the last attempt to destroy the world. Earth was far too enjoyable for him to want to destroy it, now. He’d be stuck in Hell with nowhere to go, and Hell was sooo boring day-to-day.

 

Lucifer summons all the strength in him to explain their current situation to Amenadiel.

Amenadiel was stoically silent, but Lucifer could see his brother’s horror grow as he explained what was going on.

Michael, Raphael, and Uriel, along with a few others were most certainly involved, on Heaven’s end. His marked half, the part of him that carried Cain’s mark, had attempted to escape and to control the forces of Hell to encourage the Apocalypse, but he’d put a stop to that when he went to Hell to see for himself what had been going on.

Maze had reported word of rebels after a trip to check on down below, and they both went to deal with it shortly after. Lucifer also reinforced the cage while down there. No way he would let that thing ever escape. Not on his watch.

Then there was the involvement of the two brothers, whom Lucifer had met because of Stiles. They were predispositioned through their bloodline to be able to survive being possessed by Archangels, though they would now never have to face that, due to having each fully bonded with one of their brothers, making it impossible for any other angel to possess them.

Still, it was disturbing just to think about. Especially since he could tell the younger of the two was meant to be his host.

No. Just, no. Thanks very much, but he had his own body he’d made himself and he liked it the way it looked very much. No possession necessary.

 

Amenadiel looked very disturbed by the time he and Stiles- who pitched in a few times with details- finished describing what had happened up until that point.

Lucifer kept Gabriel’s name out of it, and Stiles caught on quickly and didn’t mention him either. Judging from the growing look of horror and shock on his otherwise stoic brother’s face, it’s probably for the best that Gabriel is left out of it, for now. Amenadiel would probably have heart palpitations or something.

He might have them anyway if the look on his face said anything. Lucifer hoped that he didn’t explode or anything like that. Dry cleaning the blood out of his carpet would be terrible.

Amenadiel slowly speaks, still in shock. “I… I have to go. I need to think about this matter. It… I can hardly believe this. Excuse me. I have to go.” He says incredulously, and strides to the door in a few steps and leaves, the door slamming shut behind him.

Lucifer just sat there as his brother took off into the night, thinking to himself.

It was understandable, really, that his brother would be shaken. It would definitely take Amenadiel’s mind off of convincing him to go back to Hell for a while, at least.

 

Lucifer shrugged. He’d take what he could get. Perhaps Amenadiel would even decide to go against the rest of their brothers, alongside Gabriel and himself. Personally, he preferred Earth as it was, and would do what was needed of him to keep it in one whole, lovely, degenerate piece.

Maze too had delighted over the fun it was to drag the Nephilim blooded madman to Hell, and the waves of the animalistic demons that had little intelligence of their own beyond the equivalent of, ‘point and shoot’. She practically sang praises of Stiles, which was saying a lot coming from her. He certainly could get the right people to work together when he wanted to.

 

As Stiles said his goodbyes and prepared to leave, he insisted that Lucifer text his brother and ask him about Sam. Something about how he said it meant something important, but he had no idea what.

He supposed he’d find out soon enough.

 

Stiles settled into his seat as his flight took off from Sacramento, deep in thought as the plane climbed high up into the sky.

Meeting with Lucifer revealed some new information to him, at least, though not all of what he’d hoped to learn. Unfortunately, Lucifer wasn’t aware of what Heaven was up to now, but he’d discovered a plot by some demons involved in the matter of the Apocalypse and took care of it personally, so that was taken care of, at least.

There was still more going on, however, and with Castiel out and away from Heaven- hopefully for good- Stiles couldn’t think of any other feasible way to find out what was going on.

Maybe Lucifer’s brother could help, but he had no way of knowing for sure until his brother made up his mind if he could, or if he even wanted to know what was going on.

Taking a deep breath, Stiles pulls out his phone and headphones to listen to some music. It’d be a long five hours to one of the smaller airports on Oahu, but he would need a fresh mind for this.

He could think about Heaven and their war some other time.

 

His next job was on the Hawaiian island of Oahu, where his client had sent for his help because his brother had gone missing. He was suspicious about the circumstances around why his brother had gone missing and wanted someone who dealt with the ‘paranormal’ to investigate.

So they were superstitious, but not well enough informed to know what had happened to his brother exactly, just that it wasn’t something that they thought the police could handle. Still, even if it wasn’t a Downworld issue, at least he knew enough information to file a missing person’s if he did end up finding something about the missing brother.

He was headed to a place along the Pearl Harbor entrance shoreline to a seafood place that his client wanted him to meet him at, which he had confirmed the location of with his client.

He’d packed proper wear for the 70 to 80-degree weather on the trip, and had already planned ahead to buy a rental car outside the airport. No way would he spend however many days he was on the island trying to track someone down on foot, especially not with luggage.

 

Once he got to the place they’d agreed upon, he parked his car and stepped into the open-air seating, and sat down.

He ordered a glass of water when a waiter came by his table, and then sat in wait.

He’d agreed to meet his client at 2 pm, and he had arrived a little early. He wanted a good window of time to make sure he could get out of the airport and get his rental without having to worry about being late, so he was about 15 minutes early.

A few people came and went, but at about the time he’d arranged for them to meet, his client arrived.

 

He was very tan, on the thinner side, with greasy-looking black hair and a very scruffy-looking goatee, and looked to be in his late twenties. He looked like he had a very severe case of the nerves, and was looking around the place with a very uncertain look on his face.

When he finally makes eye contact with Stiles, the guy wanders over to him and very cautiously sits down on the edge of the chair opposite him, still looking around.

Stiles just waits patiently. Most of the individuals he’d met who believed in the supernatural and the Downworld were very superstitious at first, and often were way too over the top about learning about the Downworld.

“Hey man, uh, you’re Stiles, right?” He asks quietly.

“That’s right. What can I do for you?” Stiles says, offering the guy a warm smile. He offers a nervous smile back, but he quits hunching his shoulders quite so much, and starts to relax just a little.

“Cool. The name’s Kilo. I uh, I want you to help me find my brother, Lopaka,” He says, pulling the phone out of his pocket and tapping at his phone screen a few times before handing him his phone to show him a picture of a guy.

He looks like Kilo, though he is a little younger-looking and more clean-shaven than his brother. He is posing with a surfboard and is in a wetsuit in the picture, grinning widely at the person taking the photo. He takes the phone from Kilo and checks the date of the picture. It was only a few months old.

He adds his number to Kilo’s phone, sends the picture to himself, and then hands his phone back to him.

He looks at Kilo and waves his hand at him in a gesture to continue talking about his brother.

He shakes his head twitchily, and speaks up, stuttering a little. “He, uh, he’s been gone for over two weeks, now. I haven’t heard from him once, and I stopped by his place after I hadn’t heard from him in over a week, and his stuff looked like it hadn’t been moved at all since I was over last. His landlady, Aulani, said she hadn’t seen Lo’ in over a week, ” He says, grimacing as he thinks. “I know something is wrong, I know it!” He says, raising his voice a little at the end.

He’s tapping his fingers on the table, fidgeting, but he seems genuinely concerned if the look on his face says anything, as he nervously gnawed at his lip.

“Okay. So what makes you think your brother’s disappearance has to do with the Downworld?” He asks gently. At the look of confusion, he amends, “The supernatural.” Kilo nods his head, comprehending.

“He was telling me about this guy he was going to meet with for, uh, some new stuff. He seemed a little weirded out by him, but he still said he was going to go and see him,” He says, stammering. “It’s. Uh,” He says, before saying, “He heard about some new stuff. Not, uh, pakalolo, but, something else. He wouldn’t tell me what it was, just that he’d heard it was supposed to be good for nerves.”

Stiles gives him a look of query, and the guy sighs.

“It’s weed, man. Pakalolo?” He says, disbelieving. He shakes his head. “Anyway, I haven’t seen him since he was supposed to go meet with this guy.”

Well then.

 

There were a variety of drugs from the Downworld if it indeed was from the Downworld, all of which Magnus had warned him to stay away from. They were mostly all pretty bad and could be even worse for someone without resistance to those types of things.

If it was something outside of the realm of mundane, then he’d have to look into it, on behalf of Magnus. A Downworlder selling that kind of stuff to mundanes could be a big deal, especially since most of them had effects that would seriously hurt a mundane with too much of a dose.

He doubted it was something from the Fae, as they didn’t often concern themselves with things outside their own realm, especially things concerning mundanes. They had very little use for mundane money anyway.

Vampires had a variety of substances that they liked to make, even sometimes using their own blood or venom in them. It could possibly be something from a Vampire if the comment about calming nerves was true. Influencing people's minds to get their consent to drink from them was a pretty common theme of their substances, and dulling people's clarity was one way to do that.

It could also be a Warlock too, as they could make a variety of concoctions, with the right ingredients.

Stiles sighs.

It could be any number of substances, with how little he knew about it right now.

 

“I won’t know for sure what it is unless I can get my hands on some, but I can look into it, for sure. If someone is selling this stuff to people, it could be a big deal. Most things for the Supernatural aren’t meant for consumption by regular people.” Stiles explains. It was best, to be honest about his brother’s chances, which were pretty low right now.

Kilo frowned, furrowing his brows. “Are you saying that something really could’ve happened to my brother?” He asks, growing upset.

Stiles shakes his head. “Like I said. I don’t know for sure yet,” He says, trying to reassure him. “Do you have any idea who this guy he was supposed to meet is? A name, or a description maybe?” He asks.

Kilo slumps his shoulders, shaking his head despondently. “No, man, Lo’ wouldn’t tell me squat about this guy.” He says. He sighs.

He perks up after a few seconds, speaking quickly. “Wait, no. I think… Maybe Eliot knows more about this guy you’re looking for,” He says. He gets out his phone and texts his number a name, an address, and another picture.

This time, it's a picture of Kilo, his brother, and this Eliot Mason guy. The picture looks to be of them in high school, sitting on a couch together in the image.

Eliot Mason is lightly tanned with shoulder-length blond hair in the picture, wearing a Guns and Roses t-shirt and jean shorts.

All three of them are smiling in the picture, looking to be at some holiday gathering from the background of the photo.

“The three of us went to high school together,” Kilo says, “He was the same year as my brother. They hang out and smoke together sometimes. I think he was planning on meeting this new guy with Eliot.” He says.

With the address he texted him, that might be somewhere for him to start.

“Have you tried reaching out to Eliot about your brother?” He asks, going over all of his bases. It was possible that he hadn’t, but if he had, then Eliot might be missing too, which would not make his job easier.

“Yeah. I asked if Lo’ was staying over at his, but he never responded,” He says, frowning again.

Damn.

“You haven’t stopped by his place though, right?” He asks. Kilo shakes his head in negative.

Stiles hums. “Right. Okay.” He says with certainty, leaning back in his chair.

“Then, you’ll do it?” Kilo asks cautiously.

“You’ve read my terms of service?” Stiles asks sharply back, and Kilo nods his head vigorously.

“Yeah. I mean, yes! Yes, I read them. I stay out of your way, and I let you know right away if I remember anything important, and you’ll take care of everything.” He says quickly, fumbling a little over his words.

“Alright. I’ll do everything I can to find your brother.” He tells him, and Kilo sighs in relief, grinning happily.

He offers his hand across the table, and Stiles shakes it. Kilo shakes his hand nervously but firmly a couple of times before letting go, still smiling as he stands up.

“Thank you, thank you so much. I can’t tell you how much this has been worrying me. I’ll let you know if anything comes up.” He says and walks out of the dining area.

 

Well then. He digs through his pocket and pulls out a 20 dollar bill, leaving it next to his mostly empty glass of water before heading out to his rental, getting in his car before sitting to think.

He should probably contact Magnus, first thing first, to let him know the gravity of the situation he could be dealing with.

Then, it was up to him.

Well, he always kind of wanted to be a detective. Looks like he was getting his chance.

Notes:

I didn't get to Danny and Steve or the rest of Five-O in this chapter, unfortunately, but I got a decent setup for them and Stiles to meet! Let me know what you think!

Chapter 30: Chapter 30

Summary:

Stiles investigates the apartment of his client's brother, takes witness statements, and begins to gather some clues. Something shady is going on in Oahu.

The first thing Stiles had to do before getting to work was to find a place to stay for a couple of days, as he would rather not sleep out of his rental car while trying to find several different people. At the same time.

Preferably, he’d like to stay somewhere with wifi.

A hotel was an option, but everything was super spendy regardless of where you were on the islands, so he supposed that he’d find whatever hotel had availability and pick that option. Preferably somewhere not right next to the airports if at all possible, but he’d take what he could get.

He had bigger things to worry about than finding the cheapest place to stay for a few days.

 

Magnus had been very concerned when he contacted him about the potential of a Downworlder selling dangerous substances to mundanes and told Stiles to keep him updated on the situation.

‘If necessary, I’ll even come down there myself. Let me know if you figure out what is going around down there, I’ll get something ready for detox if anyone needs it.’

That was a relief off of his shoulders, at least. He was not very familiar with the process of creating antidotes, and Magnus was much more capable of dealing with people than he was, so that would probably be for the best.

He would probably end up consulting him again later, once he had some evidence of whatever substance was making its way around. He hadn’t exactly dealt with this sort of situation before, and he didn’t want to make a mistake when dealing with this sort of thing. One slip-up could have some serious repercussions if he messed up, for him and those people who were on whatever it was going around the area.

 

Once he had finished contacting Magnus, he gets a room key to his hotel room, drops off his suitcase, and goes out for something to eat.

A nearby Hawaiian grill was perfect, and he ate good barbecue until he was absolutely full. Drowsy, he went back to his hotel room early for the night and crashed into his bed. It was kind of early to be sleeping, but he’d need a full night of sleep to be fully prepared to deal with this situation, and he groaned, knowing that all his jumping around from different time zones was starting to mess with him.

It's a good thing the hotel had free breakfast. He was going to need so. Much. Coffee.

He might contact his dad in the next day or so if he had a few questions about procedure. Though, that was going to be his last resort if he was struggling with what to do next. He was sure if he asked too many questions, his dad would have plenty to say about him interfering with the law. Again. For like, the fifth time.

The next morning at about 8 am, after downing three full-sized to-go cups of coffee and a muffin from the hotel dining, he gathers his equipment to head out for the day.

He makes sure that his daggers are secured in his arm holsters before he leaves the hotel and casts a few protective wards on his ring to deflect any projectiles away from himself at an angle. He doubted there would be trouble right from the start, at least, but one could never be too careful. Taking precautions would be key for any unexpected surprises in this instance.

 

Kilo seemed genuinely nice, though if not suffering a little from chronic nerves. If he had to guess from what he had gathered so far, Lopaka was just trying to get something to help out his brother with his anxiety, despite the less than legal means of doing so, and enjoyed it recreationally for himself.

He wasn’t so sure how he felt about this Eliot character, but he guessed he would have to see.

First, though, he was going to stop by Lopaka’s place and talk with the landlady, Aulani Renau. He wanted to see if he could get a good look around the place and make sure there wasn’t anything that Kilo missed that could give him a clue about where Lopaka was or where he had gone.

 

Once he arrived, he pressed the door buzzer to Renau’s place, waiting for a response. It was an older apartment-style building, about four floors maybe, with individual buzzers for the apartments labeled with the names of the tenants.

Lopaka’s apartment was on the fourth floor, while Renau’s was on the first.

Finally, the speaker crackled to life, and an older woman’s voice comes over the small speaker.

“Yes? Can I help you?” She asks, a little confused.

“Good morning ma’am, could I speak with you for a bit? It’s about one of your tenants, Lopaka Dulani? I have a few questions I’d like to ask,” He says politely, and waits for a response.

A few seconds pass, and Renau speaks again. “Alright. Give me a moment,” She says hesitantly, and then buzzes him in.

He steps inside the door, and a put-together-looking woman in about her fifties approaches him from an open doorway down the hall. Her silver and black hair is done up in a tight, neat bun, and she is wearing a dark grey blouse and khaki pants.

She offers her hand to him to shake, frowning a little with worry as he does.

“You’re here about Lopaka?” She asks, concerned. He nods firmly, but politely. She has her arms crossed over her chest as he continues to talk.

“Yes ma’am, I wanted to ask you a few questions, if you have a few minutes to talk. If you don’t mind me asking as well, ma’am if I could get a look inside his apartment? I’m Stiles Stilinski, by the way.” He says, introducing himself, and she nods her head slowly.

“I do have a few minutes, yeah. And please, just call me Aulani, none of this ma’am crap,” She says, waving her hand dismissively. “Come with me this way if you wouldn’t mind, let me go get my keys real quick,” She tells him and turns to walk back to the open door down the hall from them.

Stiles follows behind her and waits outside the doorway in the hall as she enters the room.

She speaks loudly from inside the apartment as she rustles around inside, asking him, “You don’t seem like law enforcement to me, so if you don’t mind me asking, who are you, exactly?”

“Kilo Dulani hired me to try and find his brother. I guess you could describe me as a freelance private investigator, in a sense. I was hoping you could help me with looking for him,” He says, and she pokes her head out of the doorway to look at him.

“Kilo hired you?” She asks, raising an eyebrow at him curiously, and before he could reply to the question, she huffs, ducking back inside her apartment.

“It's about time, I guess. The poor boy’s been missing for the last two weeks, at least. I personally haven’t seen him in… The last three weeks, I think. Haven’t heard from his brother since two weeks ago either, though I’m sure he’s been worried out of his mind about him.” She says, and exits the room into the hall, holding her keys aloft as she closes the door behind her.

They walk down the hall towards a stairwell, and she continues to speak.

“The rent’s supposed to be due this next week, but if he’s really missing, I’ll extend it for him. Dulani is one of the best tenants I’ve ever had: he’s always been very polite, and none of the other tenants have complained about him, not even when his brother or his best friend is over to hang out together.” She says as they walk up several flights of stairs and finally comes to a stop on the top floor.

She pauses in front of a door, and unlocks it, still talking as she does.

“I know he and his friend smoked in here from time to time, but they were never at all rowdy, and the other tenants never complained about any smells, so I let them be.” She explains dismissively, before pushing open the door, turning on the light switch as they step inside.

There was indeed a little bit of a pot smell, but it wasn’t that strong, so he just focuses on looking around the room for anything unusual or out of place.

Aulani stands in the doorway with her arms crossed, watching him as he moves around the place. He pulled a set of nitrile gloves out of his pocket before touching anything, looking around at the surfaces in the apartment as he pulls the gloves on.

A very thin layer of dust was starting to accumulate on almost every surface. The kitchen counters, the coffee table, everything.

He doesn’t notice anything out of place in the kitchen or the living room, but he checks the bathroom and bedroom anyway, just to be thorough.

He spots something odd colored in the mostly empty bathroom wastebasket as he turns to leave the room and crouches down to get a closer look.

A nondescript, white-colored plastic jar, with no labels, was half-tucked under a few pieces of large plastic and paper from what looked like large bandage wrappings of some kind. The container looked like the kinds of containers a skincare cream would be in, but there was no label at all, no plastic or paper wrappings of any kind in the trash to indicate what was in the jar.

He carefully reaches into the trash and takes out the container, and pulls it out. After unscrewing it, he peers into the inside of the jar.

There had been some kind of salve or paste in it, which was an off-white color. There was almost none of it left, except a few thin scrapings of the paste in the bottom of the jar.

He carefully lifts the jar to his face, and takes a small sniff, and almost immediately jerks it back away from him. It was highly pungent, and yet… it smelled familiar to him at the same time.

He thinks about it for a few seconds, trying to recall where the smell seemed familiar from.

Then, it clicks. It smelled a little like when he rinses out the bottom of the glass when Simon finishes drinking his blood. He cleans and sanitizes the glass with gloves on- because he’s not an idiot- but that’s what the smell reminds him of most strongly.

Minus the metallic smell of blood, it was almost exactly the same smell. It was very pungent, almost an aromatic scent. It wasn’t as strong a smell as this salve was, but he knew what it had to be.

He knew it had to be something to do with Vampire venom.

The venom was used to make the process of biting pleasurable instead of painful to the victim. The venom functioned as a naturally produced duel anesthetic and aphrodisiac at the same time, with varying levels of which were more active more as it entered the bloodstream- the anesthetic or the aphrodisiac.

First, he carefully peels off his gloves as not to contaminate any of the surfaces, leaving the gloves on his thigh, and then pulls his phone out of his pocket. He takes clear pictures of both the container and the wastebasket and then puts his phone away. He puts the gloves back on, then pulls a plastic ziploc bag out of his pocket before depositing the container- recapped for cleaner carrying- into the bag.

He calls out to Aulani, asking, “Aulani, do you know if Lopaka had any injuries in the last few weeks? Anything on his arm or his legs maybe that you can remember?” He asks.

Maybe the garbage bag in the wastebasket had been recently changed. Well, recently being before Lopaka went missing, at least. It would explain the absence of a used bandage, despite the wrappings it came in.

She walks over to the bathroom, her footsteps echoing as she approaches.

She looks down at him from the doorway, then frowns, shaking her head.

“Mmm, not that I can recall,” She says, sounding apologetic. “Of course, You might ask his brother or that friend of his. I’m sure they could probably tell you.” She tells him.

 

The salve was completely used up, which might indicate Lopaka had gone to get more if he was still suffering from whatever injury needed the bandages he had been using.

It was a possibility, but he wouldn’t know anything for sure until he had checked with Eliot Mason.

He should probably ask Kilo if his brother had any injuries before he went missing to see if he knew, and then contact Magnus with the update about the venom salve.

He pockets the bag with the salve in it, just in case he needed to send it to Magnus to verify what was in the container.

 

He stood up, removed the nitrile gloves and put them in his back pocket, and offers his hand to Aulani.

“Thank you for your time today, Aulani, I appreciated all the help,” He says, smiling at her. She shakes his hand and smiles a little sorrowfully in return.

“I only wish I could’ve been of more help. Let me know if you think of anything else. I hope you find him alright,” She says sympathetically, and he follows behind her as they leave the apartment.

 

Downstairs, he sits in his car while he sends the picture of the container to Magnus.

‘Ever seen something like this? It smells like vampire venom.’ He texts him.

While he waits for Magnus to reply, he sends a text to Kilo.

‘Hey, this is Stiles. Did your brother suffer any injuries before he went missing? Something on the smaller side maybe?’

Kilo replies, ‘Yeah. He works as a bouncer for this one nightclub, The Satin, and he got stabbed in the shoulder by this real nasty customer at the door on the late-night shift. That was probably about three weeks ago. He was worried it might have gotten infected, cause this customer seemed like he was really strung out, causing a scene the whole time up until he pulled a knife on him. Why do you ask?’

‘I got Aulani’s statement and visited your brother’s apartment to search it. Saw some bandage wrappings in the trash, so I thought I’d check if you knew if he was injured or not.’

A notification that Magnus texted him pops up, so he checks what his response was.

‘I recognize what it is, yes. Haven’t taken it myself, but I’ve seen it in use before. It’s called yin fen. Means ‘silver powder’ in Mandarin, I believe. It offers temporary relief from pain but makes the user feel like they are recovering much more rapidly, and can sometimes make the user even feel a burst of strength. It’s super easy to get addicted to, and there was probably enough in that container to get a mundane hooked on, at least.’

Well. That wasn’t good news. That wasn’t good at all.

‘Yin fen is made with vampire venom, and a few other plants that have similar effects, though I can’t recall what they are at the moment. I’ll have to look into the detoxing process for it, I remember hearing about a root that can help with the process of recovery.’

Stiles frowns, thinking. So, either the yin fen was either being made locally, and Oahu now had a Vampire problem, or it was being imported, and they still had a Vampire problem.

Just. You know. Also a drug dealer selling vampire venom to humans, problems.

Stiles sighed, thinking.

He’d head over to Eliot Mason’s address next. He was likely to have more information, and hopefully, be able to reveal more about what happened to Lopaka.

 

It took him about fifteen minutes longer than he expected to find Mason’s address, circling around for a few minutes until he found a place to park.

It was a smaller building, though a little run down. A tiny little trailer park looking place, with a chain-link fence surrounding it, and very little yard to speak of.

There was an older, dark blue Toyota pickup parked in the sandy gravel driveway. As he walked down the driveway towards the house, the sun blazing down on him, he notes the slightly unkempt nature of the scraggly yard, weeds and grass clumps growing around the house.

He rings the doorbell and waits for Mason to answer the door. He looks at the closed plastic blinds on the window next to the door as he waits, standing on the concrete step in front of the screen door.

After about a minute, the inner door finally swings open, the screen door still closed between them.

“Yeah? Can I help you, man?” The man asks grumpily.

It's Eliot Mason, a little older and more worn down looking than he had looked in the photo Kilo had shown him, and he’s acting quite shifty, despite his voice sounding gruff and irritated.

Stiles steps a little closer to the screen door, trying to be pleasant and friendly towards him.

“Hi, my name’s Stiles Stilinski, and I have a few questions for you, Mr. Mason, if you wouldn’t mind stepping outside, maybe we could chat for a few minutes?” He asks pleasantly, and Mason shakes his head vigorously.

“Oh no, no. I’ve, I’ve seen this before on TV! No, no, I… I’m not stepping a foot outside if you don’t have a warrant for my arrest!” He stutters rapidly and loudly slams shut the door.

Stiles sighs, exasperated. Of course, he’d be uncooperative.

“Mr. Mason.” He says, knocking on the door, “Mr. Mason, I’m not here to arrest you! I have questions about your friend, Lopaka Dulani!” He shouts at the door, irritated.

He waits a few seconds, arms crossed, and the door slowly creaks open a little, Mason peering out of the cracked door through the screen a little sheepishly.

“You’re not here to arrest me?” He asks, sounding very skeptical.

“No Mr. Mason, I’m not. I have questions about your friend. His brother hired me to find him,” He tells him, and Mason slumps a little.

“Oh. Okay.” He says, then stops. “You can come in, I guess.” He says slowly, and opens the door, pushing the latch to unlock the screen door and opening it wide enough for him to step through it.

Stiles follows him inside, quickly scanning the kitchen for anything out of place or an immediate threat.

Nothing looks odd to him, and there aren’t any obvious signs that someone else was there, so he’d keep his tone more along the lines of Lopaka’s last whereabouts unless Mason sounded any more suspicious than he currently did.

He seemed more nervous about the actual law coming down on him, however, so hopefully, he'd calm the fuck down a little bit soon and actually say something helpful.

Mason returns to sit at a set place of breakfast on his table, gesturing for him to sit in the other chair. He does sit down, though Mason does not resume eating his meal, instead, he just looks at him uncertainly.

“So,” He asks, slowly, “You… You’re here about Lo’ then?” He’s nervous but also looking concerned. Not for himself, however, but seemingly for his friend.

Stiles nods his head slowly, giving him a soft, reassuring smile.

“That’s right. His brother, Kilo, hired me to find out what’s happened to him. I want to find him… But I think I’m going to need your help to find out what happened to him,” He says firmly, watching as Mason looked up at him, looking incredibly contrite. “Do you know what happened to him?” He asks.

Mason frowns concernedly and then nods his head a little.

“He, uhm. Do you… D’you want me to start from the beginning? It’s a little bit of a story, man.” He asks, mumbling a little.

Stiles nods his head. “That’d be great.” He says.

“Okay. Okay, uhm I guess we should start in early April,” He says, pausing to think, before continuing with, “He got stabbed in the shoulder by this total sleaze that was trying to pressure his way into the club that Lo’ works at- The Satin- and when Lo’ told the guy to piss off several times, he pulls out this big old blade,” He says, spreading his hands apart to indicate a fairly large blade, indeed, “And he fuckin’ stabs him!” He says, scoffing incredulously. He shakes his head in disbelief.

“Then, on top of that, despite going to the urgent care right after, the nurses or something must not have done a very good job with checking if the wound got cleaned or not, because it started swelling within a few days, and it got pretty gross. He was in a lot of pain from it, and he wouldn’t go back to see a doctor, because he was worried he’d have to do a drug test and he’d get in trouble,” He says, and then clasps his hands on the table, worrying at his lip with his teeth.

“I should have tried harder to convince him to go anyway, but he just wasn’t hearing it, man,” He says, brows furrowing. “He just smoked more than usual, but it wasn’t enough to take the edge off entirely, and he wanted to find something stronger.”

He pauses, before gesturing to himself briefly. “See, usually I would find us a seller, Lopaka and Kilo would chip in, then Lopaka would take some to Kilo, or we’d all just smoke together,” He says, shrugging nonchalantly. “Lo’ wanted to tag along when we went to the spot I’d usually go to, but there was a new guy there too when we went to the spot I usually pick up the stuff, and he had this salve thing, said it was just what Lo’ was looking for.” He says, huffing.

“I didn’t believe a word of it, but Lo’ wanted to give it a try, and he paid a couple hundred for this tiny little container,” He says, pinching his fingers together to indicate the small size of the container, “And he went home. He told me over the next week or so he felt great, almost ecstatic, really. But it started wearing off, and he started to run out.” He says, shoulders sinking.

“He was really shaky when we talked last. He drove over here to talk with me, and he told me he could barely grip the steering wheel, he had the shakes so bad,” He says, wringing his hands stressfully.

“He was going to go talk to this guy again, see if he could get his hands on some more.” He says, and then sighs, sinking down more into his chair.

“I… I haven’t heard from him since. I don’t think he went back to his apartment. Kilo hasn’t heard from him either. Kilo texted me a few weeks back, but I couldn’t help but think it was my fault. That… That Lo' didn’t come back. I didn’t really know what to say to him.” He says, and he sounds totally defeated, leaning forward to brace his arms on the table, resting his face into his arms.

Stiles gently touches Mason’s arm, trying to reassure him. “It’s not your fault, Eliot. You did what you could to help him, Okay?” He says softly, and Mason slowly lifts his head, looking at him, visibly distraught.

“I need you to tell me what this guy you met with looks like, okay? I’m going to do everything I can to try and find your friend, I promise.” He tells him, lacing his voice with as much confidence as he can muster to speak.

Mason nods his head slowly, blinking rapidly to blink away tears. His breather stutters, but he speaks after a few seconds.

“Okay. I… I can do that.” He says, nodding emphatically, regaining some conviction, and Stiles pats his hand gently before removing it from Mason’s, grabbing his phone to take any notes he thought of.

 

Stiles sits back, prepared to listen carefully for any additional clues to this situation. If it became a real case, then, well.

He hoped it didn’t. It’d mean he’d have failed Lopaka and his brother, and he sincerely hoped he would never have to deliver that news to anyone. Ever.

Notes:

I was writing this chapter out and realized it was going to be very long indeed if I tried to reach our introduction point for our newest characters. So, here y'all go, an early chapter! Still planning on posting on Sunday, hopefully. We will get to Steve and Danny, I promise!

Chapter 31: Chapter 31

Summary:

Stiles figures out the only way to confront these yen fin dealers is to allow himself to be kidnapped. Unfortunately, there's a hitch in his plan.

Stiles stops for lunch at a Korean restaurant after he leaves Mason’s neighborhood to review the details that he’d gathered so far.

Without Mason’s statement, it wasn’t much, unfortunately. Certainly not enough for local law enforcement to have much luck finding Lopaka if he filed a missing person’s case with what information he had currently.

But if he continued looking for Lopaka on his own, and then filed a missing person report, later on, he could be charged with withholding evidence and possible obstruction of justice.

Not to mention that Magnus was sort of depending on him to deal with the situation regarding finding the seller behind this who was selling yin fen to mundanes, which put him back into the path of interfering with local law, even if he did step back from finding Lopaka and leave it to law enforcement.

There was no way to tell if law enforcement would be able to handle this dealer, especially not if they were a Vampire.

 

Stiles' thoughts get interrupted by the waiter bringing his kalbi to the table, and he digs in to eat before resuming his train of thought.

He was going to need his strength if it really was a Vampire behind this.

 

He still wasn’t sure where Lopaka fit into this yet, but he did have the location and description of the person that he and Mason had met with the first time Lopaka had purchased the yin fen.

Tall, pale, and broody. He had dark eyes, dark brown or black hair, and was clean-shaven. He was wearing full black clothing despite the recent warm weather, and a baseball cap on top of that. It was nighttime, but Mason had thought it was odd that he was wearing jeans and a jacket, and remembered pretty clearly what the guy looked like because of the odd choice of clothing.

If he was going from the description alone, he’d guess that the dealer they'd been in contact with was a Vampire, though he doubted that he was acting on his own, if he was.

Especially not if it really was being imported. So that meant at least two Vampires on the island now. Great.

 

Mason had also said that, when he went the first time, Lopaka had been acting pretty friendly and smooth-talked the guy, and he'd managed to get the guy’s name. It was only his first name, but it was something.

The dealer's name was Leo. It was probably short for something, but it was a start.

He also had the location of where they had gotten the yin fen. Mason had warned him that the dealers were pretty sporadic about when they were at that location recently, due to the methamphetamines making their way around the island. Law enforcement had been cracking down on everyone to try and stop the sale of it, and it was making everyone nervous.

 

The place that they had bought it from was in an alley behind a specific convenience store and Mason had described in full detail how they did their best to avoid being caught by the law. Despite saying that only weed dealers sold at that location, it was still illegal for sale for recreational use, so they had a method of letting ‘clients’ know if they were there or not.

If a dealer was there at that location, they would put a specific fleur-de-lis paper printout on their passenger side dashboard in their vehicle, and park in front of the convenience store, so that prospective clients could see if any one of the vehicles had the paper. New clients were typically introduced by friends and therefore knew the code as well, and knew what to look out for.

‘Otherwise,’ Mason had said, ‘We’d just buy something from the convenience store and move on with our day.’

Due to the crackdown by police, none of the dealers tried to be too consistent with when they’d be there, and everyone was being paranoid about law enforcement coming down on them, which is why Mason had been so freaked out when he first tried to talk to him.

 

Which left him, unfortunately, with the situation before him. To catch a predator, so to say, he’d need to act like prey.

He’d have to pose as a prospective client if he wanted to try and get close enough to the yin fen dealer.

The plan had plenty of issues, of course. Actual law enforcement, the yin fen dealer having an unknown amount of backup, one of the other dealers getting too anxious and threatening him.

There wasn’t much else he could do if he wanted to get closer to whoever was behind this, and hey.

If he did get kidnapped by the yin fen dealers, they might take him close to their place of operation. That could be helpful, though he was not looking forward to it if that was the only way to do so.

Well, at least his blades always came back to him when he wanted them to, so he was technically never too far from being armed.

He snickers, remembering the incident a while back with Crowley and his daggers. And how loudly he yelped when they moved.

 

He sighed, now resigned to his fate of waiting to find the dealer. He swirls his glass of water, taking a slow sip.

It was going to be several, excruciatingly long few days before he could get a chance at this yin fen dealer. It might even take the rest of the week before the dealers would show up.

 

A few weeks ago, one of the undercover cops from HPD discovered a location and a pattern for some guys who were selling drugs from behind a convenience store over in Kaneohe. And with Lou, Chin, and Kono busy for the weekend- and with Steve uninterested- that left him to be the one to aid the HPD on a sting.

Danny huffs, the undercover cop in beachgoers clothes next to him- officer Torrez- giving him another side-eye look before moving to the register with a bottle of Coke he’d been mulling over for the last half hour, the cashier up at the front completely having forgotten that the two of them were even still in the store.

He, however, had been standing in front of the same rack of candy and chips, ignoring his own impulses to buy something for himself, and debating whether to buy something for Gracie and if so, what to buy her.

Rachael and Stan had Gracie this weekend, though he was going to get to pick her up from school next Friday, and he and Steve would have her over for the whole weekend.

Where Steve would then try to wheedle and sweet talk him all week long into changing his mind about letting Gracie take surfing lessons with him, now that she was ‘a bit older’ and could ‘handle it'.

He knows that’s what Steve was planning for next weekend since he was trying to butter him up, and he wasn’t being very clever or subtle about what he was trying to do. Steve bought him a watch and gifted it to him yesterday. A watch! And it was nice!

It... It actually was a really nice watch, though. He looks down at it on his left wrist, tilting his arm a little to examine it again. It looked like hard crystal glass, with a thick black strap, and it actually told the time correctly. It was probably at least a little bit expensive.

Despite the motives behind Steve's actions, the random surprise of a really nice gift still left him with a warm feeling inside.

Danny sighs again, running a hand down over his face exhaustedly. He was in love with an idiot.

 

Supposedly, these drug dealers were supposed to leave this little symbol on a piece of paper on their passenger side dash, to let their buyers know that they were out back behind the store if they stopped by.

It was just after sunset, and he was not looking forward to the wait. It could be a very, very long day and a half for the two of them, and absolutely nothing had happened so far.

 

At least Chin and Kono sort of had a reason why they didn’t want to come on a stakeout. Chin was visiting with Sara- his niece through his in-laws- and Kono had volunteered to tag along, since Kono had been busy with Hirsch’s protective detail all week, and hadn’t really gotten a chance to talk with her newly discovered relative for all that long during this week's latest mess.

Lou was busy with taking Renee out for a weekend getaway together, so he wasn’t available for the sting either. He was trying to make it up to her for having missed Valentine's day- ouch- and for reconnecting and spending some time together. Especially after that mess with Barnes Jr., he wanted to spend time with her. So, he was taking her out for a pre-planned, late mother’s day weekend trip.

All of those were perfectly reasonable reasons for not volunteering to help out on what should be a piece of cake for them. They dealt with drug dealers all the damn time, for God’s sake, taking down some drug runners was like a slow day for them.

They were, at least, better reasons than Steven’s ‘I don’t wanna'. Whatever. He was working on the second half of a lovely ‘talk’ with the dumb lug for not wanting to cooperate with local police, and to try a little harder to come up with better excuses than that, if ever wanted to try and convince anyone of anything.

So, he’d agreed to act as backup for officer Torrez, and was going to spend the rest of the weekend sitting in a car to stakeout the convenience store.

The two other officers from HPD that were supposed to come with Torrez on this sting were out on sick leave. There was some kind of stomach bug going around the precinct, and that left Torrez with no one to help him but Danny.

But it’s fine. He’d dealt with worse with less before. Though, notably, without Steve there to mess up the procedure, it should go a lot smoother than usual.

 

So, he was not going to go home until Monday, at least, and Steven could sit by himself on his lonesome all weekend.

He could order all the pineapple pizza he wanted, and do his morning Navy routine shit without interruption- strategically planning how to best bribe him into a conniving plan to let Grace go surfing- and use his magical coffee machine all on his own.

Well, he took the keys to the Camaro with him when officer Torrez picked him up, so ha.

 

He takes a bag of chocolates down from the rack of candy and walks over to the register, the young cashier now waiting on him to make his purchase, looking completely exhausted as he approaches.

While paying for the chocolates up at the counter, Torrez makes eye contact with him and nods his chin towards the outside. Two new cars had pulled up in the time since he’d last looked, and both of them looked to have the paper that Torrez was talking about sitting on their dash.

After he finishes paying, they step outside, walking casually over to the car they were working out of that weekend, climbing inside.

Torrez looks over to him, tucking a safetied gun into his waistband under a loose Hawaiian print shirt, which he tugs over the firearm to hide it.

“Two of them headed back to the alley. One of them got out of the silver sedan there, and the other out of the white corolla. The corolla still has someone sitting in it, from what I can see, driver's side,” Torrez says, listing what he saw to him, and Danny nods his head, focusing down on the situation at hand.

He’d handled several stings before, but it was always a chance that one of the perps could be armed when they tried to make an arrest. He’d rather not have things go south.

He thinks for a few seconds before making a call about the suspect in the car.

“We’ll come back for the guy in the car. I’ll get a look at the license plate with the cam if he decides to take off,” He says firmly, tapping his body armor that he’d finished strapping on.

He had just finished checking his firearm and was preparing to open the door and step out of the vehicle when he and Torrez both notice another car pulling up into the parking lot of the convenience store a few parking spots over.

He observes a rental sticker on the cruiser that just parked and watches as a younger man in a bright red leather jacket over a grey t-shirt, and black knee-length shorts steps out of the car.

He looks on the younger side, and Danny watches as he takes a phone out of his pocket, checks it, and then looks around, searching around for something before tucking his phone back in his pocket.

He and Torrez make eye contact, thinking the same thing.

They watch as the young man slowly makes his way back to the alleyway, passing in between the other two dealer’s cars, looking at the dashes of the two cars as he passes, and Danny shakes his head, narrowing his eyes as the kid disappears into the alley.

“Unbelievable. Fine, we’ll grab the kid too, he better hope he gets charged for possession as a minor,” He huffs to Torrez, and they get out of the car.

They pass by the rear of all of the cars, Danny making sure to get a good look at the license plates on all three of the suspects cars.

Torrez leads them into the alleyway.

The kid was talking to one of the dealers-the taller one of the two- and the other dealer leaning against the brick wall of the back of the convenience store. The kid and the dealer were absorbed in an intense conversation, but the other one spots them, and he perks up, then shrinks back when he sees who was actually coming.

Torrez pulls out his badge, holding his firearm towards the ground as he shows the badge to them.

“Freeze right there! I wanna see some hands, now!” Torrez yells, and Danny moves forward, coming between Torrez and the suspects. He moves his firearm between the suspects, watching the three of them.

The one that spotted them first quickly yanks his hands out of his pockets, fearfully clasping them behind his neck, mumbling rapidly and incoherently, nostrils flaring and eyes wide.

The other dealer frowns, but takes his other hand out of his pocket, looking thoughtful, yet disappointed as he reveals his hands to be empty towards him and Torrez.

Danny had seen some strange reactions, but that face was usually not one of them. They still had to check if the kid was unarmed, however, so he switched his attention to him instead.

The kid is looking at the dealer he was talking to still, a look of determined concentration coming to his face. He removes his hands from his pockets, looking warily between them and the dealer, seemingly equally concerned with both of them.

Danny nods towards the taller of the two dealers, who is coming off as the more threatening of the two, and Torrez goes towards him to cuff the guy, giving Danny a firm nod.

Also, who wears full black this time of year? He was clearly nuts.

Danny moves towards the kid with his weapon pointed towards the ground, keeping an eye on the twitchy dealer as he approaches the kid.

Torrez puts away his weapon in order to cuff the taller of the two dealers, listing his rights as he puts them on him, moving the dealer’s hands behind his back.

“Alright,” Danny says firmly, with a commanding tone, “Lemme see some ID, kid,” He snaps, and the kid gives him a nasty look before digging into his pocket with one of his hands, keeping the other where he can see it.

Danny guesses from the shitty look the kid was giving him, he wasn’t underage. ‘Unfortunate for him’, Danny thinks. He lowers his weapon in preparation for pulling a pair of handcuffs out from his pocket.

All of a sudden, the kid stops, looking behind him, eyes wide in surprise. Danny turns and watches as a fourth perp appears behind Torrez out of nowhere like a blur, grabbing Torrez by the arm and wrenching his body, swinging Torrez’s upper body and face violently towards the dumpster in the alleyway, and Danny watches as his face connects with the dumpster with a horrifying crunching sound.

Danny turns towards the suspect, shouting indignantly at the guy, turning his firearm towards him. Torrez was knocked out, blood trickling down his face from his now broken nose, and his body slumps against the dumpster as Danny points his firearm at the new suspect.

“The hell do you think you’re doing!? You just assaulted an officer of the law, pal, you can be sure that-” He cuts off, noticing as the other dealer, the twitchy one, takes his chance and runs, bolting off down towards the other end of the alleyway.

Danny opens his mouth to yell at the runner to stop, but he hears a metallic snapping sound, and the dealer that Torrez had cuffed grabs his shoulder and violently wrenches his body towards him and away from the other guy, and Danny sees the suspect’s fist coming towards his face. Fast.

‘This was so Steve’s fault’ he thinks resentfully, and then there was nothing but pain and black as he loses consciousness.

 

Stiles slowly regains consciousness, waking up bit by bit.

The first thing he notices is how dark it is. The next thing he notices is that every inch of his body felt like he had been hit by a train.

After a few seconds of wondering who turned the lights off and if he got run over by a car, he realizes.

‘Oh. Wait. My eyes are closed.’ He thinks to himself, and then slowly forces open his eyelids to look around him, blinking blearily, the world coming into focus.

It was not quite as dark as he’d previously believed, and he can sort of feel his feeling coming back into his body. It was majorly overshadowed by the amount of pain he was in, and very little sensation was returning to his arms.

He can’t move his hands, and he feels that his ass is numb from sitting still so long. His legs are pretty numb too, and his chest feels like someone dropped a cinder block on it.

He hopes he doesn’t have broken ribs, but oh boy, it sure does feel like he might.

He finally looks around, and takes in the area for the first time.

It was- to not his surprise at all- a decrepit warehouse of some kind. There were no ceiling lights, but the room was lit from sunlight that crept in from behind boarded up windows, the light dimly illuminating the room.

The sunlight coming through the boards on the window looked to be about late afternoon, almost evening light.

Which means he slept all night and through most of the day tied to a chair. Hooray.

He looks around the room further and almost does a double-take when he realizes he’s not alone.

The blond cop that had tried arresting him was tied to a chair a few feet away from him, head sagging towards his chest. His shirt and face are covered in dried blood, and his nose and cheek look very bruised. They were probably broken, from the look of it, and Stiles winces sympathetically. And then actually winces in pain from the action.

The body armor the cop had been wearing was gone, though Stiles has not even the slightest idea where it went. The two of them were sitting parallel to each other, Stiles having turned his head almost all the way to his right before spotting him.

Which also made him realize his neck hurt too. Agh.

Stiles tries raising his voice to see if the guy was awake, but his tongue feels like sandpaper and the roof of his mouth also feels like sandpaper, so it was kind of difficult to speak, and he ends up vocalizing more of a grunt than actual words.

Stiles tries again, trying to clear his throat first. The sound doesn’t immediately get the guy’s attention, so he keeps trying to vocalize anything loud enough to try and get the other guy to wake up.

After a full minute, he finally speaks out loud actual words.

“Hey. You awake?” He grits out, though it's more a whisper than anything else. His throat feels as dry as a desert, and Stiles is even more certain that he has broken ribs than before.

The guy doesn’t move at all.

Great. He was tied up in a warehouse with an unresponsive cop for a seatmate, just what he always wanted.

So, he sits, testing how tightly his legs and wrists were tied together, waiting for something to happen.

 

After an excruciatingly long period of time, his fellow kidnappee begins stirring, groaning excruciatingly as he wakes up.

About time, as Stiles had found that there was basically no give on his ropes, and the kidnappers must have checked him for weapons, because his daggers and their sheaths were gone, and so was his jacket.

Bastards better have taken nice care of his jacket, or they were definitely going to face his wrath. And a dagger.

“Hey, you awake?” He asks again, and the guy actually responds this time.

It was groaning, but it was a response. The cop really hadn’t opened his eyes yet.

Or maybe he had, and Stiles just didn’t notice- it was hard to tell with all the swelling on the guy’s face.

“Hey, you got a name? D’you remember your name?” He asks cautiously. Brain damage was definitely a possibility.

Stiles was starting to remember, and he was pretty sure that second Vampire guy punched the cop really hard in the face.

The guy finally looks up enough to actually be looking face to face with him, and gives him a look- he was absolutely simmering with anger and contempt, as well as frustration.

“Do I remember my name? The hell I look like?” He grumbles, then says cantankerously, “Yes, I remember my name.”

Stiles gives him a look, then shakes his head.

“Hey man, I’m not trying to pick a fight. I was just asking.” He says, trying not to antagonize the officer. He waits a few seconds, then speaks again. “Sooo, do you have one, or?” He asks, trailing off in the end.

The guy sighs, hanging his head. He winces at the suddenness of the motion, then raises his head again slowly.

“Detective Danny Williams, alright?” He says, exasperatedly. “Now, that’s Detective Williams to you, mind.” He tells him, watching him expectantly. He gives him a nod, then turns his head away. “Glad we sorted that out.” He says sarcastically.

Oh boy. Someone as sarcastic as him! How delightful.

“Well, Detective Williams, I’m Stiles Stilinski,” He says politely, and Detective Williams turns his head back to look at him.

“I don’t really care, kid,” He says, tetchy, “I’d really just like to sit in silence until our kidnappers come back and we can sort this out. You know we were kidnapped, right?” He asks dryly, and Stiles holds back a chuckle, but only because it would be painful to laugh.

“I know we were kidnapped. I can even tell you what they are if you care to know.”

Detective Williams gives him a dirty look before saying, “Well yeah, no shit. They’re drug dealers. That’s why you were there, right? Some friend of yours dare you to buy some weed or something? ‘Cause lemme tell you, you are going to face a judge when we get out of here, and you better hope he gives you a light sentence.” He tells him, slowly enunciating his words as he threatens him.

“They’re yin fen dealers, actually.” Stiles says, and Detective William glares at him.

“What’s that, a new name for meth? Some imported shit? ‘Cause, that’s just going to get you an even longer sentence, buddy.” He says, and Stiles shakes his head.

He does another double-take as Detective William’s aura finally catches his eye.

He’s not a mundane.

“It’s Vampire venom.” He blurts, and Detective Williams is the one to do a double-take, giving him an incredulous look.

“What?” Detective Williams says, though it's clear he’s asking redundantly and doesn’t actually want him to repeat himself, but he does anyway.

“It’s Vampire venom. They make it into a salve. Don’t know how this shipment made it past authorities, but it did. Usually if it makes it out of Asia, it’s because of one of their Warlock peddlers,” He says, explaining to the Detective.

 

Magnus had explained that most of the other ingredients besides the Vampire venom were easiest to obtain in Asia’s growing climate and economy, so most of the yin fen that was made, was made in East Asia.

Shadowhunters cracked down on yin fen, hard, especially since the incident involving the Shadowhunter Jem Carstairs in the late 1800s. Magnus had been friends with Jem, and had explained the incident to him in sordid detail.

It was saddening to hear, but he was glad that Shadowhunters continued to have a hard stance against yin fen, and destroy as many shipments as they could get their hands on.

 

And oh, great. Judging from the look Detective Williams was giving him, Detective Williams is not in the know about the Downworld.

The Detective shakes his head in confusion, then asks, confused, “I’m sorry, who did you say you were, again?”

“Senior Warlock Stiles Stilinski?” He says slowly, repeating his full title cautiously to the Detective.

Detective Williams is still for a few seconds, face unreadable, before asking, “For Brooklyn?”

Stiles blinks in surprise.

“That’s right. Senior Warlock of Brooklyn, New York.” He says, watching the Detective curiously.

The Detective takes a breath before saying, “I’ve heard of the High Warlock before. Back when I worked in Jersey, years ago,” He explains, before giving him a look. “You work for him?” He asks curiously.

Stiles slowly nods his head. “For the last year and a half. Two, if I count my training time, too.” He explains, and the Detective huffs, shaking his head slowly in disbelief.

“Well, damn. What are you doing here then? Isn’t… Isn’t yin fen a Shadowhunter issue?” He asks, bewildered.

Stiles sighs, then winced in pain. Stiles takes a shallow breath and then tilts his head to the side consideringly.

“You’d really think so, but no. This ended up being related to a person going missing, and a client requesting that I find him. I tracked him back to having dealings with these guys, and I was trying to confront one of them when you showed up.” He says, then shrugs his shoulders just the slightest, despite the protesting of his ribs. “Don’t know if the Institute in L.A. knows about what’s going on here. I doubt it.” He says casually.

Detective Williams frowns.

“No one is expecting me until Monday,” The Detective says sullenly, before adding, “If it’s not already… Monday.” He huffs.

Stiles huffs. “Well, Magnus was expecting to hear back from me, but probably not for the next few days,” He tells the Detective, before saying, “Although, Emma might demand Magnus come get me if I don’t respond to her texts soon enough.” He says, holding in a chuckle.

“Your girlfriend?” The Detective asks inquisitively, and Stiles shakes his head no.

The Detective gives him a curious look, and Stiles says, amused, “My roommate. She and my other roommates were planning on doing a horror movie binge this weekend since Isaac hasn’t seen any of them.” He explains, and the Detective shakes his head, seemingly nonplussed by his response.

 

The two of them ended up talking about whatever came to mind for the next few hours while they waited for nothing to happen.

Detective Williams mostly talked about his daughter, his life, and his concerns about her expressing the same abilities as him.

He was venting about that despite his own carefulness with his abilities, he was worried for her expressing unexpectedly and avidly avoided water himself.

So far, despite loving water, she showed no signs of transformation when near water at all, even in saltwater. He was still worried, though. She was 13, about to turn 14, and she still wanted to swim very, very much with her whole heart.

Detective Williams was a quarter-blooded Selkie. Specifically, a harbor seal. He was capable of fully transforming, but he had had a bad experience when he first moved to Oahu and refused to enter the water again, and refused to explain what had happened.

 

He also vented about his partner, Commander Steve McGarrett.

Apparently, Detective Williams was on a special task force for the islands and co-led it with McGarrett. Mostly, the Detective complained about how idiotic and dangerous the Commander could get, but it was affectionate complaining, from what Stiles could discern.

As far as Stiles could tell, the two were romantic partners as well, and lived together.

From what he could gather from some of the complainings, Commander McGarrett tended to have some very protective tendencies, so Stiles was fairly certain that he was a werewolf, probably an Alpha one too, at that.

He wasn’t sure how the Commander hadn’t figured out Detective Williams own supernatural expression if that was the case, but the Detective seemed to be putting every effort into hiding what he was, so maybe that was why.

 

Either way, it was an interesting way of passing the time.

The Vampires don’t return that day, even after the sun starts to set.

Stiles ended up falling asleep at one point after it had gotten dark, and when he woke up, it was from a very violent crash, the sound of wood shattering loudly nearby.

He looked up and glanced over at Detective Williams, who seemed to also be just as startled awake as he.

Looking around, he sees several individuals approaching him and the Detective with weapons drawn, dressed in minimal to no bullet protective gear. There are at least three of them that he can see, possibly more.

Detective Williams perks up as the individual in the lead, a tall, dark-haired guy with intense eyes and chilling looking stare, carrying a firearm and not wearing a bulletproof vest.

When he spots the Detective, his face practically lights up, concern exuding from his stony face as he rushes over to the Detective, examining his injuries and starting to untie the Detective from his chair, fretting over him.

The Detective is mumbling reassuringly to the individual, who Stiles is now certain is Commander McGarrett, as he whispers something in return to the Detective.

The other two individuals come over towards him, a man and woman. They look vaguely related, both with similarly tanned skin and Asian-looking facial features. The woman holsters her firearm and bends down to untie his ankles, and the man crouches down to check him for injuries, checking his head and talking to him.

“Hey brah, we’re going to get you out of here, okay? We’re going to take you both to the hospital now, get you taken care of. Can you tell me your name?” He asks, soothingly. He feels the pressure around his legs loosen, and the woman moves around behind him to untie his hands next.

“Stiles Stilinski.” He says, and his throat and chest are still very much protesting his efforts to move and breathe.

“Well, Stiles, we’re going to get you out of here, okay? Are you injured? Does anything hurt?” He asks, and Stiles nods.

“Yeah. My chest. I think I might have a broken rib or two.” He says slowly, and the guy nods.

“Okay, the ambulance will be on it’s way soon, okay? Talk to me, okay? Anything else?”

Stiles continues to talk to the Detective, but his mind is now far away, full of relief.

 

Maybe… Maybe getting kidnapped wasn’t his best plan.

His broken ribs seemed to agree with him, in this case. They violently were protesting being moved as Detective Kelly helps him to one of the ambulances that arrived outside the decrepit warehouse, his whole chest feeling like it was on fire.

Hopefully, Magnus could handle a little bit more of the situation than he’d planned to.

Perhaps the rest of the Five-O would be willing to help out. Detective Williams had seemed to think that was the case, at least, when they had talked earlier.

Either way, Lopaka would just have to wait until someone capable could finally rest his case.

Notes:

Don't worry, there's more to go still! Stiles will properly get to meet the rest of the team soon, and can finally get closure on his case. Hope you enjoyed the chapter, please let me know what you thought!

Chapter 32: Chapter 32

Summary:

Stiles spends some quality time in the hospital and gets a visit from Detective Williams.

When Stiles wakes up, it’s very slowly, with mild disorientation and feeling like he’d had a brick thrown directly at his chest from a second-story window. His brain felt foggy, and the pain did not help him at all in orienting himself faster, taking shallow, pained breaths as he looks around.

He was in a hospital room by himself, the light from the nearby window hidden by the partially closed curtains that let some sunlight into the room. It looked to be midday at least, from what rays of light were illuminating the cushioned seat to the side of the room and the tile floor. There was a connected bathroom, though the door was closed.

It was warm in the room, though not unpleasantly so, with the bright sunny weather outside his window. There was a TV mounted high up on one of the opposite walls, though it was turned off.

The ceiling lights above him were a surprisingly pleasant soft white, though still a little harsh on his eyes as he tried to focus, illuminating the room rather brightly in combination with the glowing rays of sunlight coming from the window.

He looks slowly to his left, seeing the door to his room and a small table with a charging port, the sound of his heartbeat pulsing steadily in his ears, echoed by the machine monitoring him. Stiles looks on both sides of the bed for the call button, pressing it to call the nurses station.

He wanted to ask a few questions about how he was doing, and he was absolutely parched.

At least it didn’t look like he was in the ICU. Not from what he could tell, anyway, but he had no idea for how long he was unconscious and what happened while he was asleep, and he had several questions forming in his mind already.

 

He remembered that he’d passed out a few times on the way to the hospital, but he had arrived while he was awake, and sort of remembered the concern from the staff about internal bleeding, and possibly fractured ribs.

It was all a little fuzzy right now, and the aching pain of his chest was not making it easier to concentrate.

 

A woman comes into the room an uncertain amount of time later, dressed in cerulean blue scrubs, a friendly look on her face as she approaches, smiling as she talks.

“Hi, there! I’m nurse Ele. It’s good to see you awake, Mr. Stilinski, you slept through all of yesterday, we were starting to get a little concerned about needing to wake you up. I believe… I believe that Dr. Wun will be by as soon as he’s available, it shouldn’t be too long until he stops by,” She says reassuringly.

Stiles nods slowly, smiling, though it’s likely not an entirely pleasant smile through the pain he’s feeling.

“Do you need anything?” She asks, coming to the side of his bed to examine a screen positioned there.

“If you’re uncomfortable, I can get you a pain reliever, though I would suggest waiting until you’ve spoken to Dr. Wun about your care if that’s the case. But if you are in enough pain, I can go get something that isn’t too strong. It’s likely you’ll want to rest after you take a pain reliever, with how much you’ve been resting already.” She says, talking as she examines several lines of the record she’d accessed.

“Could I get some water please?” Stiles asks, and Nurse Ele smiles kindly at him.

“Sure thing! I’ll go see about that right now, Dr. Wun should be by any minute.” She says cheerfully, leaving the room.

Nurse Ele seemed to be a very easy-going person, and kind of reminded Stiles of Melissa a little, the times he’d visited her at the hospital. They even looked a little similar, being of similar stature and appearance.

Though, Melissa would certainly be letting him hear it for getting himself injured, so maybe the two were not entirely similar, he thinks amusedly.

 

A middle-aged Asian man in scrubs and a lab coat comes into the room not too long after, smiling pleasantly as he enters the room.

“Mr. Stilinski? I’m Dr. Wun- I’m a family doctor, but I’ve been the primary physician for quite a few of the on-duty officers for several years now, and am familiar with the aftercare of trauma, and I’m going to be looking after you during your stay. It's nice to see you awake again finally,” He says, chuckling amicably as he walks closer to look at him more closely. “How are you feeling right now?” He asks, and Stiles raises his hand cautiously and gives him a ‘so-so’ gesture. Dr. Wun nods understandably.

“Well, our biggest concern we’re worried about is internal bleeding. We took you for some imaging when you first arrived if you recall, but we weren’t sure if we spotted what might be the problem if there is one. Fractures can be rather difficult to spot, unfortunately, and we can’t be too careful about internal injuries.” He explains, moving to look over him.

“We plan to keep you until we can confirm exactly the extent of your injuries, and make sure that there is no internal bleeding to be worried about. Trauma injuries tend to be intense. Recovery can be a long process, and you’ll probably need to see a therapist for building up your breathing response, once you’ve recovered enough. Pneumonia is always a concern for chest injuries, and I can recommend a few therapists if you’d like.”

Stiles shakes his head, declining. He had located a local doctor in Colorado to be his new primary care doctor, along with the other necessities when he’d moved to his house there well over a year ago, and had scheduled his annual check-up back then too. He’d probably schedule a check with his doctor, just in case, but he didn’t think he would be out of operations for too long.

“I don’t think I have to remind you that rest is essential for recovery. Breakage of ribs is just one of those things that the body has to do on its own- there’s very little we can do, besides care assistance and instructions. It’ll take time.”

Well, Stiles could afford to take a break, fortunately. His work was often dangerous and thankless, but when his clients paid, they paid him very well.

Besides, he could ask Magnus to help speed up the healing process, once he got out of the hospital. It would probably reduce his time down to maybe a week or so of rest, which would be a huge improvement to whatever the actual healing timeline would look like.

“No thank you, I’ll schedule to see a local therapist- and my doctor- once I get back to Colorado,” He says, and Dr. Wun nods.

“See that you do,” He says coolly, before switching his topic of discussion. “Now, I wanted to speak with you beforehand to get your approval, but Commander McGarrett has been asking to see you,” He tells him, frowning a little. “He didn’t leave the hospital until Detective Williams was released this morning, after which they both left. Both the Commander and the Detective had been asking about you.”

“Is the Detective okay?” Stiles asks curiously, and Dr. Wun nods, looking bothered a little, though he responds promptly to his question.

“Normally, I wouldn’t be able to say- patient confidentiality and all- but Detective Williams made it rather clear that he was okay with you being given a few details,” He says, huffing in amusement and irritation.

“The Detective has a very slight concussion and a broken nose- we were planning on keeping him in hospice to keep an eye on him to see if anything was changing regarding his concussion. However, he was very insistent that the only thing that was bothering him was sitting and doing nothing in a hospital bed, so I released him under the impression that he’d be on light work, and that the Commander would be keeping an eye on him.”

Dr. Wun sighs, before asking, “I take it you would be willing to see them then?”

Stiles nods his head as vigorously as he can.

 

There are a few things he wanted to clear up with the Detective in order to best allow them to handle the issue regarding Lopaka’s disappearance, and what he knew little he knew about the dealer he and the Detective had encountered.

He would also let Detective Williams know that Magnus was preparing to help anyone who would need help recovering from the aftermath and would give the Detective or his partner Magnus’ contact information.

In this case, it would probably be best for Detective Williams and Commander McGarrett to deal with the situation. This was their area of operation, and this was more their area of expertise than his, after all.

 

Dr. Wun replies. “Very well. I’ll let the Commander know he’s free to come by during visiting hours, starting tomorrow. I’ll see to scheduling an MRI for the next available time- we’ll also need to run a few tests before you leave. Just a few labs, to make sure everything is alright.”

A beeping sound starts emitting, and Dr. Wun reaches towards his waist, checking an old-fashioned beeper before clicking it off and reclipping it to his belt.

Dr. Wun smiles, then walks towards the door.

“I’ll let the Commander know that he’s free to stop by if you’re still here when he asks again. It was good to see you awake, Mr. Stilinski.” The doctor says with a brief and cheerful wave goodbye before ducking out into the hallway.

Nurse Ele walks into the room again, now holding a cup, looking a little chagrined as she enters.

“Sorry about the wait- turns out we were pretty much out of cups, so I had to run and grab some more from a different floor. I hope that’s alright,” She says, huffing a little from exertion as she hands him a plastic cup.

Nodding, Stiles smiles softly.

“That’s perfect.” He says exhaustedly. His ribs twinge achingly in pain as he lifts his arm to grab the cup, and he sighs tiredly as he takes it.

 

It was probably going to be a very long few days.

 

Stiles huffs, exhausted, settling as smoothly as possible into the hospital bed before letting himself just collapse on the bed, the discomfort and pain in his ribs really starting to reach a new peak.

Nurse Ele was called to another room for help on the way from assisting him on getting back to his room from the labs, and he’d insisted that he should be fine to walk the rest of the way on his own.

That may have been a hasty assessment, as he was currently in an almost excruciating amount of pain, and now his arm hurt too.

He had gotten his blood drawn, and it was very unpleasant, but it would hopefully help clear him from the hospital faster if everything was fine internally.

He’d had his MRI taken the day before, and it was just so difficult moving around the hospital on his own. The hardest part was standing up, most of the time. It caused him huge cramps of pain shooting through his chest, his whole being feeling sore and stiff.

It was late Tuesday morning when he’d first woken up and spoken to Dr. Wun. He and the Detective had been brought into the hospital Monday morning, and he’d slept most of the whole day through.

It was now Thursday, and he’d yet to hear from either the Detective or the Commander, and Dr. Wun said he was free to leave once they had made for sure he didn’t have any internal bleeding and had provided care instructions for him.

He hadn’t had his phone on him when he got kidnapped, and none of his personal belongings- like his jacket- were found when the warehouse was raided, so he was rather bored of watching the TV, and would rather just sleep.

He figured that the Detective and the Commander were probably at home on leave for the last few days, so it was understandable that they hadn’t stopped by.

 

Once the late afternoon rolls around, he gets a knock on the door of his room, and he stirs, blinking the tiredness away from his bleary eyes.

“Come in…” He says slowly, voice a little rough.

Detective Williams steps into the room, pushing the door open wide enough to poke his head through.

He grins a little, then pushes the door the rest of the way open.

“Hey there! How you feelin’?” He asks cheerfully as he pushes the door open wide, before closing it shut behind him.

His face is still a little bruised, and his nose is a little misshapen from swelling, but he looks energetic and alert, smiling widely. Detective Williams has his jacket slung over his shoulder, looking pleased as he enters the room. In his other hand, he’s holding a bag with his phone, charger, and wallet, which he had left at his hotel.

Stiles, slowly pushes himself upright a little, pushing the button on his switch rest to move the bed into a more upright position, the bed shifting a little behind him to allow him to sit up easier.

“You found my jacket?” He asks, pleasantly surprised. Detective Williams nods but then gives him a look.

“Yeah, and a… A few other things too. We did a search with the hotels to see if you were checked into any of them, got a few of your things for you. I convinced Steve to separate the… Other things into separate bags, as I don’t think the staff at the hospital would really appreciate bringing non-issued weapons into the hospital.” He says a little sarcastically, placing the plastic bag with his things in it on the side table in the room.

Stiles scrunches his brow. “Where did you find my jacket?” He asks, “It wasn’t in the warehouse, was it?”

Detective Williams shakes his head, face scrunching up a little.

“Nope, wasn’t there,” He asserts, moving around his bed to sit in the chair on the other side of his bed. He huffs a little as he sits, settling his hands on his thighs.

The Detective gives him a look before sighing. “Steve went and dealt with them all, by himself.” He says, looking like he wants to thump his head against a wall out of frustration. “He got Chin and Kono to help him deal with the Vampires' bodies and burned down the whole damn place they were holed up in,” He growls, before running a hand down his face.

“They arrested the three others they found- thralls, or whatever they’re called when they got that,” He waves a hand in front of his face, making his facial expression blank, “Mind control thing going on.”

The Detective scoffs. “At least they don’t have extra strength or anything like that. Just normal strength. They’re all strung out as all hell though.”

Stiles shifts a little, perking up.

“My, uh, boss, Magnus Bane agreed to come here to see what he could do to help anyone who was on yin fen. Help them recover from it.” He explains, and Detective William nods.

“Well, that’d be great, actually. Steve burned down the whole supply of it, so they’re all going cold turkey right now, and they don’t seem to be doing all that well. One of ‘em has a pretty nasty-looking shoulder wound,” He says, gesturing to his shoulder. "He's going to get some medical care for it, once he calms the hell down."

Stiles blinks in surprise, then smiles a little. “Wait, that’s the guy I was looking for!” He says exuberantly, then reaches over for his phone, pulling it out of the bag.

His phone still has a decent charge, so he opens it up and finds the photo that Kilo had sent him of his brother, showing it to the Detective.

“Is this him? The guy with the injury?” He asks excitedly.

Detective Williams looks at the image before nodding, a little surprised.

“Yup, that’s him alright,” He says, then leans back a little in the chair. “Well, I’ll be damned. You really were investigating, then.” He says, surprised, and Stiles gives him a dirty look.

The Detective waves his hand dismissively. “I had my doubts, alright? We can’t just blatantly accept every guy on the streets saying he’s investigating a scene of a crime, there are certain steps we’ve got to follow to, ah, certify the validity of those kinds of claims,” He explains. He tilts his head consideringly. “In your case, I think it’s a fair claim that you're a concerned third party, and with the proper certification to assist in this investigation.”

The Detective smirks, then blatantly grins. “And since I’ve been on leave during the time that Steve and the others decided to do a raid and completely burn down the building these guys were in, they can fill out all the reports on their own.” He says, chuckling.

“We still have other problems going on, but I just wanted to officially stop by and say thanks. So thanks,” He says, and offers his hand.

Stiles shakes it briefly, and the Detective drops his hand, still smiling, though now a little embarrassed.

“And, uh, I just wanted to say thanks, personally. For letting me talk while we were in that warehouse… I think it finally got my head out of my ass about telling Steve, about... Well, you know,” He says, waving his hand emphatically, before chuckling again. “If I could tell a random stranger, you think I could tell my partner about it.” He says acerbically.

“I… Well, I haven’t talked to Grace yet, but I’m planning on it. And I think Steve’s still getting it through that thick skull of his that I’m not leaving or anything like that, but he seems to be taking it okay.” He says, sighing.

“So, thanks.” He says, then straightens up, turning his head sharply towards the door.

Just a second later, Commander McGarrett walks through the door, smiling softly when he makes eye contact with the Detective.

Stiles just shakes his head, smiling exhaustedly. People with advanced hearing were weird.

The two were now talking rather loudly, but it didn’t seem to have anything to do with him, and he spaces out, thinking to himself.

 

He’d need to contact Magnus and let him know what'd happened over the last few days. Magnus could handle the rest from here, and he could take off.

He was going to spend the next week at home, probably chilling on the couch doing nothing, just letting his ribs heal the rest of the way, once he got Magnus to stop by and heal his chest.

He’d have to see if he could get Commander McGarrett or the Detective’s phone number before he left. Both of them were in the know and were both pretty interesting individuals.

 

Besides, it had been a while since he’d made some new contacts. He could always use some competent acquaintances.

Notes:

Ugh, hospital scenes are hard to write accurately. But, it's done! Tell me what you thought. I might have some of the Five-O characters be reaccuring, we'll see how it goes!

Chapter 33: Chapter 33

Summary:

Magnus gets a visit from Lily Chen, who has some important news to deliver.

 

There were a variety of different plants involved in the process to create the ingestible substance for fighting yin fen addiction, but Magnus had done it. He’d gathered all the necessary ingredients needed to make the potion.

While Stiles had been working to stop the dealers, Magnus had thoroughly dived through his library to find the method used to counteract yin fen. It had taken him more than a day just to find the book that had the process in it, let alone getting started on making what the instructions called for.

An infusion of bloodwort leaves, rose petal extract, holly leaves, extract from the root of a burdock plant, and the tiniest amount of Vampire venom.

The burdock root had to be gathered from L’Isle-Adam, in the north of France- why did it have to be from there? He had not even the slightest idea why, but the instructions specifically called for the burdock root to be sourced from there. Regardless, the trip took him about a day when all was said and done- teleporting did make things so much easier, fortunately.

He had to gather a rather large quantity of the roots, but thankfully, the rest of the ingredients were much easier to gather. He had dried bloodwort and holly leaves on hand, though it called for fresh, climbing vine rose petals- which he had spent a few tedious hours to find. It called for blood-red colored petals, though he wasn’t sure if the color mattered, in the end. He had a vial of Vampire venom in the back of his ingredient stores, and it had been pulled out too.

The hardest part was just how long it took to boil down the extract all the juices.

Four. Days. Four whole days straight of simmering, adding the juices, letting the extract cool, and repeating the whole process again, adding the next ingredient.

But, it was finished. He had enough to fill at least 2 decent-sized wine bottles with the liquid.

He had certainly wanted a drink, by the time he was done. That, and a long nap.

The liquid needed to be consumed, which would begin the process of detoxing the yin fen from the bloodstream. It was difficult and painful and took hours and hours for the tainted blood and venom to leave the body. The ingredients, when mixed with the Vampire venom induced a reaction in the consumer, reacting with the venom already in the body. It would cause heavy sweating, vomiting, and bleeding.

It was a very unpleasant process and required constant observation to make sure that the individual drank the full amount. A few trickles of the drink had to be consumed every half hour, for up to 12 hours, for the process to be completed.

 

Alexander, bless his heart, had wanted to be there with him for every second he was making the cure for yin fen addiction. He wasn’t actually able to stay the whole time- he had his own duties to attend to, after all- but Magnus appreciated his effort to spend time with him.

Magnus knew that he’d be thinking about Alexander the whole time he was away, helping those who were addicted to the yin fen.

 

He felt a small pang in his chest. Alexander reminded him a little of Jem, truthfully, and he’d been thinking of Jem ever since Stiles had discovered what was happening over on the islands.

It wasn’t just that Jem and Alexander both were devoted Shadowhunters, raised to serve their Institute’s well that reminded him of each other. No, they both were also incredibly kind and brave and dedicated to those who they cared about.

The Greater Demon that had killed Jem’s parents had tortured the poor boy, ultimately ending with the boy becoming addicted to yin fen. He struggled for years with the addiction, his health declining steadily over the course of several years. His Parabatai, Will, had begged the London Institute to get him help, which is how Magnus had first met with Jem, when Ragnor called him to London for his healing capabilities.

In the end, Jem had chosen to undertake the ritual to become a Silent brother when he was 17- a decision that ultimately had saved his life. His addiction to yin fen had been slowly been draining him of life, despite Magnus’ and the Institutes’ efforts to cure him. Becoming a Silent Brother had stopped the advancing of his declining health.

He had been too late to help Jem Carstairs, but he wasn’t too late to help these mundanes.

 

A knock on the door brings Magnus out of his mulling thoughts, standing to move to answer the door, smoothing down the wrinkles in his satin shirt, adjusting the waist of his silver brocade vest.

He plasters on a smile despite his exhaustion and swings his front door open.

Standing outside his door, to his surprise, was the newest second of the DuMort Clan, Miss Chen.

Magnus blinks, briefly caught off guard.

“Miss Chen. What a surprise. What can I do for you?” He asks, before swinging the door open wider in tacit invitation to enter.

She’s dressed in a formal-looking pantsuit in a dark cherry red color, her hair done up in a messy bun, with wisps of her bangs to the side of her face. She had a calm, professional air to her, though Magnus could tell that she was excited about something, despite her calm demeanor.

She steps inside, turning back to face him as he closes the door shut behind them. Miss Chen folds her hands together briefly, before letting her hands fall to her side. She doesn’t seem inclined to move any farther inside the penthouse, so he doesn’t invite her to sit.

She still hasn’t spoken, and he was starting to get a little curious.

“It’s not Raphael, is it? Is he alright?” He asks, a little concerned. He wondered if something had happened, feeling a little worry build up inside him.

Miss Chen ardently shakes her head, before finally speaking.

“I didn’t know exactly how to say this tactfully, so I won’t,” She says plainly, “Camille’s sentencing was last night.”

Magnus frowns, waiting for Miss Chen to continue. She didn’t seem upset or angry, so Magnus hoped it was good news, for once.

“She was sentenced to death; for abandoning the Clan, betrayal, and the mistreatment and cruelty towards individuals within the Clan of which she was in charge,” She explains.

Despite her cold tone, she seemed happy about the decision. “She was drained of her blood and then sealed into a glass coffin just before sunrise. Her ashes were just removed from the roof of the DuMort- Elliott was burning them again when I left. We aren’t leaving it to chance that she might come back. She’s dead. And she’s going to stay that way.” She explains, enumerating the details to him.

Magnus lets the thought sink in, the permanence of Camille’s absence taking hold in his mind.

She was… Gone. In truth, all feelings he’d had for Camille had simmered out over the years of her betraying him again and again. His life without her in it was better off. And he’d never have met Alexander, or had the chance to know him, really, if she were still in his life.

Magnus takes a calm, deep breath before speaking.

“Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I wasn’t aware a decision had been made yet, though I suppose I knew that the decision was coming soon.” He says blasé, and Miss Chen nods her head.

“It wasn’t the only decision that was made as the council convened,” She says, now smirking. “I had been attempting to persuade Raphael to go back on his decision regarding Simon’s banishment and bounty. He finally announced it last night, after Camille’s punishment was decided. Simon’s free to come back to the DuMort.” She says, pleased.

Magnus gives her a look of utter surprise.

“He went back on his decision?” He asks, his shock surely showing on his face. “I’ve tried several times to talk to Raphael about it since he came to Simon’s blood cleansing. He’s refused me every time. I saw how he looked at the young Vampire, it’s clear to me at least Raphael didn’t seem to think very thoroughly about his decision before he made it.”

It was entirely frustrating that Raphael refused to even talk with him. There was clearly some undiscussed thing between them if Raphael was pining. Why they just couldn’t talk to each other, Magnus had no idea.

Although, it did takes some major encouragement from Stiles for him to finally decide to pursue Alexander, so perhaps Raphael was in a need of a major push too. Either way, he was probably not the one to be commenting on their communication.

Miss Chen sighs, practically hissing in frustration. “The others are still upset about Simon’s betrayal, but most of them also think he learned his lesson after his little Shadowhunter friend,” She spits out the word ‘friend’ like bad blood in her mouth, “Turned his back on him. Most of the Clan was waiting for Rapahel to change his mind, and some of them, like Elliott, were getting frustrated about how stubborn he was being. After seeing how welcome the reversal was, I think he has a better understanding of how little our Clan actually cared about Simon’s betrayal.”

Magnus hums, deep in thought. “Have you let Simon know? I think he’d be- well, happy’s probably not the right word- but at least glad to know that he no longer has the threat of death over his head.” He says thoughtfully, and Chen shakes her head, frowning.

“I would have already done it, but Simon cut contact with everyone in the Clan, including myself,” She says, slightly distressed, “And Senior Warlock Stilinski hasn’t responded to any of my texts in the last week.”

“Stiles? I’m planning and stopping by the house soon. He got injured tracking down some yin fen dealers last week, he’s supposed to be arriving home today. I’ll be heading out to help the addicts’ recovery process- most of those addicted were mortals.” He explains, and Miss Chen looks relieved but also disturbed at the news.

“I’m sorry to hear that he got hurt. And yes, I’d appreciate it if you let Simon know about the reversal. I know I’m not the only one who’s looking forward to seeing him again. It’s been a while since the DuMort has had a fledgling to look out for, and his wasn’t exactly the most welcoming introduction to the undead life.” She says, seemingly dismayed.

Magnus nods his head. “Of course. I’ll let them know.” He says firmly, and Miss Chen smiles, looking relieved.

“Finally. Hopefully, something can be done about Raphael. He’s being stupid, and Simon proved a worthy distraction for him, and most of the others in the Clan, too. I look forward to hearing from him again.” She says, before walking back towards the door.

He opens the door, and she steps gracefully into the hall.

“It was a pleasure talking with you, High Warlock Bane. Good luck with your efforts, and I hope to hear back from you, or Simon soon.” Miss Chen says pleasantly, before speeding off down the hall in a blur.

Magnus closes the door shut behind him.

 

He was pleasantly surprised, to say the least, but his plans were still the same.

He needed to pack his things, and then head out to Stiles’ residence. Maybe he’d borrow from Peter’s secret alcohol stash in his room, he was absolutely going to need a strong drink to tell this story.

And to hear whatever Stiles had to tell him about the yin fen dealers. It wasn’t going to be a fun story if Stiles getting injured was any indication.

It was going to be a very, very long week.

Chapter 34: Chapter 34

Summary:

Stiles muses on some thoughts, including the soon appearance of one Hannibal Lecter.

 

Lying on the couch, Stiles was relaxing in the living room, taking it easy on his ribs and watching the second Tobey Maguire Spiderman movie.

He’d already finished the first movie, after waking up at about 10:30 in the morning and limping his way downstairs to grab a coffee and a yogurt for breakfast. He’d then grabbed an ice pack, swallowed down some Ibuprofen, grabbed a water bottle, and plopped down on the couch, which he hasn’t moved from since.

He’d gotten up once to change the disc and to put his dishes in the sink, and the few minutes it took to slowly limp to the bathroom made his ribs incredibly sore, so he’d grabbed a fresh ice pack on his way back to the couch. Being injured really sucked.

 

Right now though, he was pretty much home by himself, since Isaac was at school and Tony was at work. Since Tony had left very early this morning, Emma had dropped Isaac off at school, and Tony had offered to pick him up after he got off work. Which was fine by Stiles, since he had no plans to go anywhere for the next week, really.

Will was upstairs laying down and reading, and Stiles had seen Winston come downstairs once or twice, wandering through the kitchen before heading back upstairs again.

He was texting back and forth with Emma now, half paying attention to the movie. Something about making some plans after she got off work in an hour? As long as it didn’t require him to get off the couch, he was absolutely down.

 

Magnus had stopped by around noon earlier before heading out to catch his flight in Sacramento to Oahu, healing his ribs most of the way, which was nice. However, since he’d already started healing naturally on his own, there was only so much Magnus could do, which meant he was still in some pain.

Simon was at the house earlier when Magnus had stopped by, though he’d had plans to go for a rehearsal at about 1:30 in the afternoon with his bandmates. His morning class was an online lesson, and he’d been doing homework for his class when Stiles had come downstairs, sipping from a thermos of blood.

With the lengthy news that Magnus brought- about Camille’s sentencing and about Simon’s bounty being lifted- Simon had seemed troubled, though he still went to go to his rehearsal, barely saying a distracted goodbye as he stepped outside, his friend who played bass guitar waiting outside in his beaten up ford focus.

It wasn’t bad news. It actually was really good news for once, and Stiles was glad to hear that Lily had managed to get Rapahel to change his mind about Simon’s banishment. Still, though, it wasn’t going to be easy news to swallow.

Simon had been staying with him longer than he’d stayed with the DuMort, by now, and Stiles had no idea if any of their Clan actually wanted to see Simon again. He wasn't even going to touch the idea of Simon moving back to the DuMort.

Not to mention the month or two that Simon had been staying by himself, in an abandoned warehouse on the docks not too far from the Jade Wolf.

Stiles was still peeved about that.

 

Simon was also doing fairly well now on his own. He drank when he needed, without reminders from Stiles. He could and did use his enhanced speed, especially with encouragement from Emma. They loved racing up and down the halls and often made bets on who would win.

He was doing well in his classes, and practiced his guitar all the time now, sitting sometimes in the living room, or even the yard as he played. His playing was very impressive, and watching him and his bandmates perform was awesome.

There was a running trail that was about a half a mile away, and Peter would take Isaac, Simon, Emma, and Tony during nights sometimes, which was pretty much whenever he was over to visit. They would go for runs together, honing their senses and improving their skills. It was very companionable, and Stiles had even tagged along a few times. Simon seemed to like the runs too, which was good.

The runs were certainly nicer than what he’d heard and seen about how Derek treated his Betas. Isaac had often compared the differences and seemed to much prefer the gentle encouragement and actual lessons from Peter.

The friendlier, competitive air between the others also helped. Peter and Tony were both very in touch with their wolf, something that Derek and Scott had never really talked about. In fact, they both seemed to refer to their wolf as a different entity entirely. An entity that they despised, or were afraid of.

Tony and Peter were both born wolves and were much better in tune with themselves. It seemed to help Isaac that they knew what they were talking about, and were plenty willing to offer their experience and actually teach about connecting better with the wolf.

 

Emma was doing much better too, both with her shifting and with her mental space. Having people in her corner had helped her, and Dr. Martin had recommended the process of getting her transition surgery approved.

Emma had squealed happily when she was showing off her official papers, dancing excitedly around the living room, hugging anyone who came with a few feet of her. Her happiness had been contagious that day, and even Will had come downstairs to congratulate her.

 

Thinking about Will, Magnus had brought some news for him as well. Hannibal had well enough proven his intentions- and his regret- to Magnus, which meant that Magnus had sent Stiles’ contact information to Hannibal’s contact phone.

Since he had nothing else to do, he’d been arranging that particular meeting. He was going to meet with Hannibal first, then see from there. He was supposed to be coming back to America in the next week, according to Magnus.

Stiles had been debating it, but he was thinking about contacting Chiyoh.

She was very capable of taking care of herself, and if her past reactions were any clue, she wasn’t a big fan of Hannibal right now. If the things she’d mentioned were true, it meant that she might be willing to offer Will some protection. Especially if it was protection from Hannibal acting out again.

She had said herself that she served Lady Murasaki, and by extension, the Lecter Family. If she was willing, and if Will would accept her help, then Stiles would ask her to stick around until the twins were born.

 

If he wasn’t around when the twins were on their way, then he wanted someone who would be competent and level-headed enough to drop everything and call Dr. Watson.

Dr. Watson had also gotten Sherlock to track down the woman who had been one of the midwives for Hannibal and his sister, wanting to find someone who knew a little bit more about what to expect. Hah. Expect.

Her name was Marya Greshnov, a registered midwife. She was in her late sixties and had been willing to offer her help after Dr. Watson had explained the situation.

She was now a midwife for a rather large family of werewolves in Eastern Russia and was familiar with the Downworld. Despite working for nearly a decade as a midwife to the same family, she had been willing to offer her help with Will and the twins, with Mycroft helping Dr. Watson to get all the temporary visas she would need.

 

All the plans were slowly coming into place, and things were really going well for once.

Hopefully, Dr. Lecter would take his time getting to America this week. He wasn’t sure about getting up and going anywhere besides the couch or his bed. Maybe he could ask Emma to grab him some gelato on her way home. Cold ribs and a dessert at the same time sounded really good about now.

Chapter 35: Chapter 35

Summary:

Hannibal arrives in New York, ready to try again.

 

Stepping out of the elevator, Hannibal checks the apartment number with the number that the young man, Stiles, had given him. The number matches the ones outside the penthouse in front of him, so he walks towards the penthouse door, deep in thought.

The building itself was rather upper class, situated among several other high-rise designer apartment buildings in upper New York, in Brooklyn.

Magnus Bane had put him in contact with Stiles, who had told him where he was supposed to go upon his arrival back in the United States. It had taken him a few weeks to arrive without attracting the attention of the law, as he was still wanted as a criminal for his actions among human society. He made it with little issue, and was supposed to meet the young man at this address, and discuss several things regarding Will’s position as of now.

Oh, his darling William.

 

Hannibal blinked slowly, feeling regret and painfully strong sorrow bubbling beneath his skin. Not towards William, no. Towards himself.

His anger, so well placed at the time, was nothing but a grievous mistake. What he had thought to be a betrayal was doubly so for his darling and twice as much of a shock. If what he had learned over the last few weeks was true- and the blunt honesty and the way that Magnus Bane and Stiles had spoken had assuaged him of any ulterior motives on their behalf. He had so much he needed to do. So much to apologize for.

Ever since that day over a month ago, Hannibal had kept the picture of the ultrasound folded in his inner breast pocket, close to himself. Sentimentality had never been something he’d ever dreamed of before he’d met Will, but now, he kept that image close within his arms reach. He’d taken the image in his hands to stare at the littlest of details for hours, memorizing every fuzzy detail of the slightly crumpled photo.

His very flesh and blood and he had abandoned them and William both.

 

Straightening his blazer neatly, he smooths down the edge of the jacket and then rings the apartment buzzer. He feels the edge of the picture folded in his breast pocket, a reassuring pressure against his chest as he waits.

He would do whatever it would take to convince Will’s self-appointed guardians of his intentions, and Will of his regret and sorrow. If his darling William wanted him to beg at his feet for forgiveness, he would, without hesitation.

 

Footsteps thud softly as someone approaches from the other side of the door, before one of the intricate doors of the penthouse swings open. The individual behind the door is rather androgynous in appearance, though more effeminate, dark brown hair done up neatly and dressed sharply in a canary yellow plaid dress coat and black slacks. They give him a quick look, up and down before stepping back, turning their head to call into the apartment.

“Stiles! Dr. Lecter’s here to see you,” They say smoothly, facial expression perfectly neutral as they gesture calmly for him to step inside.

The apartment is luxuriously designed, with personal touches of mismatched decor and items strewn about the apartment, including what appeared to be an unstrung, glossy black longbow tucked into one corner of the entry area. Across from the wide embossed entrance doors, a balcony with huge glass windows let in large amounts of the afternoon light.

Sounds of a discussion are coming from off to one side of the inside of the penthouse, which the individual beckons him towards. A faint smell of brewed tea reaches him as they approach, which was a rather citrus-smelling brew.

They step into the room, which was a smaller-sized kitchen, and into a lively discussion. Stiles he recognized, but the others he didn’t know- well then.

“Chiyoh.” He says consternated in an attempt to hide his surprise at her presence, and she turns to look at him as the individual who led him into the kitchen steps off to the side, picking up a discarded teacup lying on the counter and sipping from it.

“Hannibal,” Chiyoh says shortly back to him, her tone sharp with a dangerous edge. Her eyes are narrowed at him, glaring in distaste.

Stiles and another man are still deep in a discussion, the unknown gentleman dressed in a dark grey dress suit with a long black umbrella tucked under his arm. The gentleman is speaking, and Stiles is following along, nodding avidly.

“-So, I advised him to hold off on proposing to John until he’s told Mummy, which he seemed to actually take into consideration for once. Likely because he knows that she’ll literally kill him for not bringing John around even once before springing wedding planning upon her, though no doubt he-” Hannibal listens to the brief snatch of conversation that Stiles and the British-accented gentleman were involved in before Chiyoh speaks and his attention is drawn back to her.

“I’m surprised that you actually came. I confess I made a bet with ‘Thea that you wouldn’t. I guess I was glad to be proven wrong, though I’m still not sure about your intentions,” She says coldly, humor-laced in her tone.

The individual who led him into the kitchen smiles a little, seemingly pleased, leading Hannibal to believe that Chiyoh was referring to them when speaking about the bet she had made.

The two of them seem to have a close camaraderie, though he wasn’t sure for how long they had known each other, or how they even met. Hannibal wasn’t sure if he wanted to know, but he did want to know one thing.

“I… forgive me for asking so brusquely, but what of your other duties?” He asks curiously, wondering to himself about what had become of her charge.

Chiyoh gives him another sharp, slightly disparaging look before speaking. “I didn’t abandon my other duties if that’s what you’re asking. Stiles visited the estate several months ago and released me from them. I then sent word to Lady Murasaki- she’s taking all the proper efforts to restore the estate to its proper glory.”

Hannibal nearly winces in reaction to hearing that. Of all the people he might actually be afraid of a reaction to his transgressions from, his aunt was among them. She was not a woman to be disrespected.

Though she was fond of him, she was also very familiar with the code that the Lecter family had long lived by, having been accepted into the Lecter family with very little fuss. She would not be kind to him when they next met.

 

Stiles finishes his discussion with the other gentleman, turning to their discussion. He smiles, half apologetic as he enters their conversation.

“I’m afraid that’s true, though I wasn’t entirely sure about it at the time. I’m definitely glad I did now. Chiyoh has been nothing but a blessing in disguise, and probably also my new personal favorite badass,” He says with a warm, friendly grin, before pausing thoughtfully for a few seconds.

“I’m sorry, you haven’t met my colleagues yet, have you?” He asks quizzically, before continuing without waiting for a full response. “This is the High Warlock of London, Mycroft Holmes,” He says, gesturing to the well-dressed gentleman beside him, “And this is Senior Warlock Anthea, also of London,” He says, waving his hand towards the individual who had answered the door.

Lecter nods his head respectfully to the two of them, before turning back to look at Stiles.

“I was not aware others were going to be present.” He says inquiringly, and Stiles smiles at him with a chagrined look, running his hand through his hair nervously.

“Well, I didn’t think so either, but when I mentioned it to Chiyoh, she insisted that she be here, and then the next thing I knew, Anthea was also coming, and then Mycroft too,” He says, before chuckling. “I’m just glad that Simon decided to wait until Magnus gets back before coming here to New York too.”

The gentleman who Stiles had introduced, Holmes, looked down at his coat pocket, pulling out a buzzing cell phone. He looks down at it for a few moments before rolling his eyes, stepping out of the room.

“Excuse me,” He says exasperatedly, before answering the phone rather annoyed sounding as he passes by Hannibal and Stiles on his way out of the room.

Stiles looks over at Anthea before saying, “Is it, Sherlock, you think? He looked rather put out.” He asks curiously, folding his arms over his chest.

Anthea shakes their head before calmly responding. “Just work. Besides, Sherlock doesn’t call. He only really likes texting.” They explain, and Stiles nods his head in understanding.

Hannibal just watches, unsure of what exactly just happened. Instead, he just stands patiently waiting for Stiles to begin discussing the topic that brought them all here.

Stiles looks over right at him, looking rather serious now. Hannibal wasn’t sure how he’d feel about receiving a dressing down from someone probably half of his age, but he was completely sure that he deserved every second of it.

“First thing’s first, I want you to know that I’m still not sure about your intentions, but you’ve seemed pretty honest about your intentions with me so far. You have a chance to make it up to Will, and if he’s happy with you, I’m willing to take a chance on you.” Stiles says coldly, which Hannibal accepts.

“I understand. I indeed have much to make up for, that’s very true. I’m not sure that William will forgive me, but I hope that he might forgive me, someday.” He says somberly, being honest. Downplaying the massive size of the mistakes he’d made would not do him any favors, and judging from Stiles’ look, it was the right thing to say.

Stiles gives him a long, hard look before nodding slowly.

“Alright. Let’s talk.” He says firmly.

 

Chiyoh and Anthea both watch him as sharply as hawks for the entirety of the conversation, Chiyoh still looking very disappointed in him.

He was certain that his Aunt would have many, many things to say to him in the future.

Stiles tells him a time that he’s available, and to stay in the city somewhere. Magnus would allow him to visit soon, and there would be others there when he finally went to visit Will.

It was not as private as he could have hoped, but a chance to speak to Will would be enough.

Anything to apologize for his past actions.

Notes:

I have a few different subplots going on for all the different characters that I've been working on, but I think I'm finally going to start working on what's going to be the main plot now. It'll involve the Winchesters and whatever Heaven's been up to, so I'm excited to see how it turns out. Let me know what you think so far!

Chapter 36: Chapter 36

Summary:

Isaac's graduation party, featuring super soakers and barbeque.

 

Magnus had texted him the day after he’d met with Lecter to let him know that he was on his way back from Oahu, and Stiles was glad to hear things had gone well over there. The three individuals that Magnus could find had all received the antidote, including Lopaka. Stiles was glad to hear that the brothers had been reunited and that Lopaka had received the help he’d needed.

When taking care of the three yin fen addicts, Magnus had learned that they had been forced to become bodyguards for the Vampires, enhanced by the yin fen and controlled through bites from the Vampires. Thankfully, none of them showed any signs of being turned and had no reactions to the rose petal concoction used for detecting signs of a turn.

Magnus had explained he’d also provided Detective Williams and Commander McGarrett a supply of the yin fen antidote, in case others still addicted to the substance popped up unexpectedly later on.

However, Stiles had heard from Magnus and Detective Williams both that Five-O was now busy with a huge amount of regular substances being spread around on the island and had their hands quite full. Detective Willams had texted him once or twice with random questions out of the blue, with questions about the habits of Vampires and Werecreatures.

‘Wonder what on earth he’s up to,’ Stiles thinks amusedly to himself, before turning his attention away from his phone.

 

The commencement ceremony was loud, filled with many, many cheering families, including their own. The high school Isaac had transferred to was rather small, with only a graduation class of about one hundred, so they were seated in a large gymnasium to watch the event.

Isaac was graduating and had invited them all a while back to come to watch the ceremony, excitedly watching them from near the edge of the stage, giving Stiles a nervous wave. He waved back, smiling brightly at Isaac’s cheek-splitting grin.

Emma and Tony were seated to his right and talking softly though rather excitedly to each other, though their volume kept ramping up the closer Isaac got to the stage. Simon was watching from the other side of Peter, who was seated on his left. His smile was a little more subdued, but still very cheerful.

It was midday, so Simon was still a little lethargic. He didn’t like getting up early, typically sleeping until noon. Unless he had class or a ‘jam sesh’, as he occasionally referred to them, he was usually still sleeping around now. Though his Vampiric nature was fairly unnoticeable most days, he did sleep during the day a lot.

Regardless, he seemed excited and pleased to have been included, something Emma and Isaac had noticed previously about him. Stiles was glad that the three of them got along well. Despite the common conception of Vampires and Werecreatures not getting along, the three got along like long-lost siblings, taking a liking to each other instantly. Simon was watching the stage as Isaac inched closer to it.

Peter was avidly talking on his phone, though it was to facetime with Will so Will could watch Isaac walk across the stage. Though there were not enough tickets by the time Isaac had convinced Will to come, Isaac was still insistent that Will be included, so Peter had come up with an agreeable middle ground.

Not to mention that Will didn’t have to be present in person, so he was more amenable than usual for the ‘outing’.

They had all dressed up nicely, despite Isaac’s protests that they didn’t have to. Peter was dressed to the nines in a sharply fitted dark blue suit- despite the early June heat- Simon in a dark red henley and grey slacks, Tony in a very fancy-looking Hawaiian print shirt and tan slacks, and Emma in a fit-for-summer floral high waisted dress.

Will was sitting in one of the living room lounge chairs over the call, wearing a plain white t-shirt with a dark green, open button-up sweater over it- though there wasn’t much besides his face visible on the call. He was smiling as he watched Isaac, Peter occasionally turning the phone around to face him instead of the stage to talk to Will.

Emma had planned out most of their after-party and had insisted that he get something nicer to wear than the clothes that he’d worn to homecoming, despite his protests about her comments about his outfit planning.

He wore a light blue dress shirt and black dress slacks, his black suit coat thrown over his chair when it got too warm in the gymnasium.

 

When Isaac finally walked up the stage, Stiles had his phone out to record, listening happily as those seated around him yelled words of encouragement and cheered.

Isaac stood seriously while one of the teachers handed him the diploma paper, before breaking out into a grin as he walked off the stage with the roll of paper, being careful of his graduation gown as he stepped off the stage and down into the front rows for the students.

After the ceremony was over a little less than an hour later, they gathered up Isaac and headed out of the gymnasium back to the house.

 

Emma, practical as she was, had preordered a very large bakery sheet cake that was graduation themed ahead of time and had enlisted Stiles and his dad to bake and grill a bunch of barbeque for a late lunch party.

Stiles had premade a bunch of salads, including potato salad and green salads, some roasted cauliflower and asparagus dishes, along with brownies with chocolate chips- one of Isaac’s favorites.

He still chuckled when he thought about when Simon had asked Peter seriously as Isaac had scarfed down a freshly baked pan of brownies if chocolate affected werewolves the way it affected dogs and the startled look on Peter’s face before he broke out into uproarious laughter, startling Simon.

 

Their party changed out of their fancy dress clothes and into clothes more appropriate for the summer heat, grabbing water bottles and chilled lemonades out from the fridge before heading out into the backyard.

Emma and Simon grabbing a pair of super soakers out from the garage and chasing Isaac around the outside of the house with them, the three of them screaming and shouting excitedly as they circle around the house, laughing cheerfully as they chase each other.

With enough barbeque to satisfy the several Werewolves and humans attending, including Chris- who was standing next to his dad and Tony by the grill he had out in the small backyard that the house came with- they were eating and talking happily, a few graduation gifts set out for Isaac on the end of the folding table.

 

Peter came up to him, now dressed in a short-sleeve shirt and jeans, carrying one of the beers that Chris had brought for him and his dad to drink.

He sits next to him on the folding table he’d set up outside, observing Chris and his dad by the grill for a few moments before speaking.

“Magnus is coming back next week, I’d heard. Is Simon going to visit over there soon?” He asks curiously, watching amused as Isaac and Simon come around the corner chasing Emma, Isaac having found the other super soaker in the garage.

Stiles shrugs. “It’s his decision. If nothing else, I think he wants to see if any of the rest of his things are still in his room at the DuMort, since Lily was only able to get so much of it out.” He says, and Peter nods solemnly.

“I was planning to offer to go if he felt nervous about going on his own. I think Alpha Leon is getting irritated with me popping in Beacon Hills to offer some advice, and I’m getting tired of pretending to listen to Scott ramble on at me about you for minutes on end.” Peter says, rolling his eyes as he talks about Scott’s antics.

Stiles snickers, before sighing. “I dunno if I’m going, but definitely ask Simon about it,” He says, before pulling out his phone and shaking it. “Gabriel’s been asking me to stop by, and Lucifer has something for me, though he won’t elaborate, no matter how much I ask, so I’m going to have to stop by there too. I’m heading out tomorrow I think.”

Peter gives him a curious look. “You don’t know what either of them wants?” He asks. Stiles shakes his head.

“I know what Gabriel wants- something to do with Dean, I know that much. But Lucifer? No clue.” He says, before shrugging.

Peter huffs. “Well, good luck with that then. Let me know if it’s something important, will you? Chris is getting antsy to shoot something, and you always come up with something brilliant to do for the both of us.” He says with a firm pat to his arm, before stalking off to the grill to stand by said man, smiling at him as he draws closer, his dad drawing Peter into his and Chris’s conversation.

Stiles shakes his head again, amused as he watches them.

Will steps out slowly of the house and watches mildly disturbed as Simon and Isaac come careening around the back porch steps, running away as Emma chases after the two of them with two super soakers, Isaac missing his as they skitter towards the other side of the house and out of sight once again.

Stiles just shakes his head fondly, patting Wilson gently on the head as he comes trotting by the table.

Notes:

Nice, calm chapter. I've got something more exciting in the works, but just a nice simple chapter for this week. Enjoy!

Chapter 37: Chapter 37

Summary:

Peter takes Simon to visit his old Clan, and they have a little heart to heart.

 

Stepping through the open portal, Peter grins widely as he catches sight of Magnus on the other side of the portal, Simon’s footsteps padding softly behind his as they step into Magnus’ living room. He looks around the room, taking in the view for anything notably new.

It was evening already in New York, though the sun was still high enough in the sky that it came through the bay windows in Magnus’ penthouse apartment. They had stepped out of Stiles’ place, and out of a late afternoon.

 

Peter had stayed after the party had ended the day before, though Chris had left back for California with John after Isaac’s graduation party was over. The young Werewolf himself had initiated a lumbering pile of teenagers on the floor of the living room to watch a movie when the party had ended, when too many mosquitos had begun to gather once the sun had begun to set. And after their clothes were sufficiently dry enough that Stiles would stop threatening them over his wood floors and let them in the house.

Once they had all gotten into their various pajama clothes, they had binge-watched the entirety of the Star Wars prequels before collapsing on the floor in a heap, at which point he’d gone to his own bedroom. Stiles, Simon, and Emma were all still sleeping when he’d come downstairs, snoring and half piled on top of each other.

Stiles had taken off just a few hours before they did, Isaac waving them all a pleasant goodbye before disappearing upstairs, and Emma telling Simon to call her if anyone was too mean, and that she would come to beat them up for him. He’d choked down his laughter when she’d said it, though Simon had declined politely, brushing it off as a friendly joke. Peter could tell she was totally serious, though, which was delightfully hilarious.

 

It was getting closer to midsummer now, so they still had an hour or two before the sun truly set, his wolf chuffing in recognition at the closeness of the night. Peter acknowledges the thrum in his blood, then turns his attention back to Magnus.

“Ahh, Peter. It’s so good to see you. It’s been a while, hasn’t it? How’ve you been?” Magnus asks him pleasantly, a wide smile of his own on his face. Peter pats Magnus on the arm and shoulder before responding warmly, standing close to his dear friend.

“I’m doing good. Chris and I were quite busy until recently, actually. Hunter Council business, you know,” He says exasperatedly, though his voice no doubt revealed that he was not irritated by the events at all.

Dealing with the Hunter Council as a Werewolf was an interesting and honestly amusing experience. With Chris there to advocate for him, it was internally very entertaining watching the Council tread carefully with their words around him. Like watching someone tread down a hunting trail full of barely visible bear traps, only visible under the glint of a flashlight.

“Stiles found something in Missouri that was rather difficult to deal with, even for Chris and I, and the Council likes being in the loop about those sorts of things.” He explains, and Magnus shakes his head, smiling.

“He’s always busy doing something, nowadays, running around the country doing this or that. He can handle most problems by himself, which I’m thankful for. Leaves me to work out my own problems,” He says, chuckling with exhaustion, before gesturing his hands with a wave and closing the portal behind them.

Magnus does look rather tired, he notes, at which Peter hears a faint echo of a whine in his ears, a whisper of concern, doubled by his own sentiment.

While Magnus is still put together looking- Peter didn’t think it was possible for the warlock to be anything but, except perhaps in the direst of emergencies- there were hints of dark circles under his eyes, and his outfit was rather casual, compared to the usual attire the warlock preferred. A silver suede shirt and designer sweatpants, with a much simpler affair of makeup than his usual, over-the-top presentation.

Behind him, Peter hears the faintest whisper of clothes brushing up against each other and turns his attention back to the conversation at hand and the reason that had brought him here.

He’d address what problems Magnus was dealing with later, but for now, he had other things on his mind.

He clears his throat before speaking. “I hope you’re not too busy tonight. We’re going over to the DuMort in a bit, once the sun sets more.” He says, and Magnus’ eyes narrow.

“Yes. I’d heard about that. I’ll be here, all right. I wish you the best of luck- Raphael might have changed his mind, but he’s stubborn, and no doubt going to be irritable. Ms. Chen seemed hopeful about his reaction, however, so you’ll no doubt have her support.”

“We haven’t been formally introduced, but I’ll keep an eye out for her,” Peter says, before turning to look at Simon.

The young Vampire was dressed in very casual clothes- something that might pass for jogging clothes, even, and an idea passed through his mind. It was a fair distance, but they had time before they were expected to arrive.

“Well, come on then. It’s been a while, but I still know my way to the DuMort.” He says, and the two walk towards the door, Magnus giving them both a tired wave goodbye as he closes the door behind them.

 

Simon is quiet when they exit the apartment tower, Peter checking his phone’s map briefly before setting out in the right direction at a steady pace, Simon easily keeping pace with him.

The two jog for quite a while, only the noise of busy evening traffic and crowded streets keeping them company, Peter catching brief snippets of sound before turning his attention elsewhere, never focusing his hearing one place for too long.

They weren’t traveling at unnatural speeds that would get them noticed, but fast enough that most casual joggers wouldn’t be able to keep pace. He hadn’t even broken a sweat, and Simon seemed to be breathing at a normal rate, despite not needing to breathe at all.

 

After a few more blocks traveled in silence, Peter finally speaks up as they keep running along the sidewalks.

“You seem nervous.” He says calmly, and Simon, who had seemed rather deep in his own thoughts, jolts at his words, nearly missing a step before catching himself.

“What?” He asks, confused.

“I said that you seem nervous.” He says again, and Simon gets a rather pinched look on his face, seemingly ready to deny the statement before sighing, shoulder sagging a little.

“A little, yeah. It’s been a while. I… I’m not sure how I feel, exactly.” He says slowly, and Peter nods his head.

“I can tell it’s been weighing pretty heavy on your mind. There’s plenty to think about.” Peter says, and Simon says nothing.

Simon is silent for a little while, contemplating as they go along. The sun sets lower as they go.

 

“I don’t think I ever got the chance to apologize to Rapahel, after what happened with Clary, and Camille, with the White Book. I meant to- but he just told me to get out, when I got back to the DuMort,” He says, a rather bitter and saddened look on his face.

Peter said nothing, listening as Simon told him about what had happened, back before he’d come to stay with Stiles.

“I didn’t know where to go, after that. Didn’t have any of my things. Luke told me about this old place down by the docks, in their Pack’s territory, though. Said I could stay. That it wouldn’t be a problem. The rest of his Pack didn’t seem to hate my guts, either, which was nice,” He says, laughing a little, though the sound was sour to Peter’s ears.

“Stiles would’ve taken you in, even all the way back then,” Peter says calmly, and Simon bites his lip briefly, frowning in thought as they continued to run.

“I know that. I… I just didn’t want to impose on him like that, and we hardly knew each other back then,” He says, huffing disheartedly before he continued to speak.

“Guess I wanted to try and make it on my own. I was angry that Clary would just... Expect me to do something like that for her, with not even a word of apology for what it would do to me. That really changed the way I saw her, y’know. I knew how important her mom is to her, I really did, but to expect me to sign away my freedom because she asked me to?” He shook his head, betrayal and anger flashing in his eyes. “It was the last thing I’d do for her, as a friend.”

“And I guess… I had hoped that Rapahel would change his mind. Ask me to come back, explain everything. Anything,” He said, quietly. “Guess I was wrong about that,” He adds sullenly.

Peter mulled over his thoughts for a few moments before speaking.

“His anger was justified,” He says in brutally sharp honesty, watching Simon flinch before continuing with, “But not what he did after that. Turning you away because you didn’t know the scope of the repercussions of your actions didn’t do anything for them. If anything, doing that just proved you right, for helping your former friend instead of doing what the Clan thought was the right thing.” He says, and Simon’s responding smile is nearly watery.

“I don’t know about that. It doesn’t seem like it was the right choice, thinking about it now. I don’t know.” He says uncertainly, and Peter shakes his head firmly.

“Expecting you to drop everything for virtual strangers is foolish in a way I’m not sure how to describe. Of course, you’d trust your friend. Placing the blame on you for not instantly adapting to a brand new way of life is idiotic, and irresponsible. They hardly even tried.”

Simon shook his head. “I wasn’t trying either. I was resistant to the idea that my life had to change,” He says, “But it didn’t matter. My life changed anyway. Guess I just finally caught up to it,” he mutters the last bit to himself, chuckling quietly, and Peter lets the conversation fade away.

 

They jog quietly for the rest of the way to the DuMort- they were just a few miles away from the hotel now, the sun really beginning to set now.

Peter was aware he viewed the world more pessimistic than most others might, but for once, he hoped things would turn out well. The fledgling Vampire clearly deserved better.

And if his Clan refused to step up to the plate, well, Stiles had a little family of his own that he knew Simon was more than welcome to stay a part of.

Chapter 38: Chapter 38

Summary:

Stiles stops by Lux to talk with Lucifer- something has been on the poor Devil's mind.

 

Arriving outside of Lux, Stiles found that the atmosphere of the usually vibrant, opulent club was dull and unusually quiet. The lack of patrons was probably the reason why, he noted, as the lights inside the building were all shut off, and the exterior lights were dull as well.

Judging from the time, Stiles was assuming that the nightclub probably wasn’t open yet, reaching into his pocket as he approached the doors of the nightclub. He’d text Lucifer once he was standing outside the door that he’d arrived.

Instead, as he approached the front doors of Lux, they swing open of their own accord, inviting him in. ‘That’s really neat. Wonder how he got it to do that’, Stiles thinks to himself, before stepping inside.

Inside Lux, a janitor gives him a brief sideways glance as he walks towards the elevator before continuing to ignore him, scrubbing at the floor with a mop.

 

Knocking as he arrives at the penthouse door after riding up the elevator, Lucifer’s voice calls out to him from inside his suite.

“Come in! It’s open.”

Stiles pushes open the door and sees Lucifer sitting inside, drinking something dark in a crystal glass while reading something off of a tablet. The bright sun of the afternoon is dimmed by the drawn curtains over the bay windows of the suite, bright rays of light peeking through the curtain in certain spots.

Lucifer grins sharply as he walks over, collapsing into one of the several armchairs in the sitting area.

“So, you’ve finally made it. You certainly took your time,” Lucifer says slowly, a note of curiosity filling his tone. He’s dressed in his usual fair, seeming relaxed in the sharply fitted suit he was wearing. He sips his drink, watching Stiles for his response. He sets down the tablet as he turns his attention towards him.

Stiles shrugs, flapping his hands dismissively at him.

“Eh, your brother had something he wanted me to look at, and you were being vague in your text messages, so I stopped by Bobby’s to see what he was going on about now,” Stiles explains casually. “Thought maybe he’d gotten into another argument with Dean, but no.” He says, sighing exasperatedly.

 

Thankfully, it wasn’t another argument with Dean.

Dean had seemed to tone down on the antagonizing Gabriel thing, actually- especially since Sam had had some rather sharp words with him about what would happen if he continued threatening his fiancé.

“He wanted my opinion on his wedding destination, vacation pocket realm he was working on,” He explains waving his hand around to describe the yet unnamed realm, “Since it’s a pocket realm, it didn’t take all that long to tour through, thankfully. And I’d have to say, it looks pretty nice so far.”

It really was looking amazing already- it was a beautiful mansion-sized ranch house and overgrown rose trellis gardens-looking place. The venue was designed very beautifully and impeccably, and Gabriel took his input seriously about the planned barbeque after the ceremony. Stiles was excited to go when it finally happened, even though it was still a while off still.

Not to mention, he already had another wedding to attend in the not so distant future.

Sherlock had proposed to John not long after Quinn and James had gotten back from going to Italy with him. It was a very Sherlock thing, if what Mycroft's attitude about it had anything to say about it. He was excited to hear about it, and happy for the two of them, nonetheless.

 

Lucifer leans back a little in his chair, raising a brow curiously at the description of his brother's antics. “Is that so?” He asks amusedly, chuckling a little, “Well, I’ll just have to see for myself, I suppose,” He says dismissively, before continuing, a serious look coming to his face.

“When you last visited, you brought something rather.... Urgent to my attention,” He says, a dark look coming to his eyes. “Heaven has no idea that the final seal is… Broken. They’re working as hard as ever now to try and bring about the Apocalypse.”

Stiles nods slowly. “Yeaaah? So?” Stiles asks slowly, wondering what he might have found that made him bothered enough to ask him to talk about it in person.

“So, they haven’t stopped! They’re still blustering about, causing a damn ruckus! It's infuriating!” Lucifer says, irritation clear in his rising volume. He pushes up off the armchair, getting up and beginning to pace the floor.

Lucifer’s aural presence is broiling with anger- a dark, twisted mass, thrashing around as he began speaking as he paced.

"I'm not concerned that they'll succeed. Gabriel did a spectacular job with the seal. There's not a chance in Heaven that'll succeed, and I've made myself clear what will happen to anyone I catch talking about trying to work with Heaven. No," He says, shaking his head, "It's not that." He says as he continues to pace around the room.

“I sent Mazikeen to look into it for me- you see, I honestly was hoping that you were joking about Heaven continuing their idiotic crusade, and that she wouldn’t find anything, but no,” He’s seething as shakes his head furiously, “It took her a few days, but she found one of the seals in Nevada,” He explains, “A family attempted to walk from one end of Death Valley to the other, seemingly to their certain death,” He says indifferently, “Indeed, all of them but the youngest, a teenage boy, died. A person driving by spotted the young man collapsed on the side of Route 190, and drove him to the nearest hospital.”

Lucifer pauses to collect his thoughts for a few moments before speaking.

“The boy had little recollection of what happened, other than that a strange man had told his father that they had to cross the desert. His father had insisted that the stranger had promised them a new home, once they had crossed the valley. The family was being evicted from their home, you see,” He says, gesturing with a wide sweeping of his arm.

“Maizkeen went to the address of their former home and discovered a seal marked in paint on the floor. The building was completely empty, besides the seal and an Angelic presence,” he explains, before roughly collapsing into his armchair once again, his anger and displeasure clear.

Lucifer frowns, taking a deep breath before sighing heavily.

“Heaven hasn’t stopped trying to cause the Apocalypse, and I don’t care to find out what they’ll do when they discover their cause is fruitless,” He says lowly, before adding, “Not to mention the no doubt numerous lives that, in the end, will be ended for no reason at all.”

He sits quietly, thinking pensively.

Stiles gives him a look. “So, what exactly do you want me to do about it?” He asks, continuing when Lucifer narrows his eyes dangerously at him. “I mean, I agree, absolutely, that lives are going to be lost, and Heaven seems absolutely unconcerned with that, too. But what exactly do you want me to do about it?”

Lucifer grins dangerously. “I need someone who’s human enough to help Mazikeen. She’s found another seal.”

“Human enough?” Stiles asks dubiously, and Lucifer nods slowly.

“Of course! Mazikeen can handle her own problems, but these things usually require some... Human element to it. If it’s needed to keep the seal shut, then you’d be able to deal with it,” He says amusedly, adding, “Of course, it helps that Mazikeen likes you, I guess.”

"I know, but what exactly are you planning on doing by doing this? If Heaven finds out you've been interfering with their plans-" Lucifer interrupts him, waving his hand dismissively.

"As if I care what Heaven thinks. And the more souls here on Earth, the better, I say. Life's much more entertaining, with humans to interact with." He explains with a shameless grin.

Stiles takes that in for a few moments before nodding.

“Okay.” He says. “I’ll do it.”

He wasn't sure exactly what Lucifer had in mind for him, but he'd guess he'd see what he could do to help Mazikeen.

“Okay?” Lucifer repeats questioningly, then claps his hands together. “Wonderful! Off you go then!” He says happily, and snaps his fingers.

 

With a visceral gut feeling, Stiles is vaguely aware as he’s teleported away.

 

Notes:

Sorry about the delay! This chapter was hard to figure out, but I've got the next few chapters planned now! And, I've got a few new characters I've got planned to have an appearance in a crossover too! Very exciting.

Chapter 39: Chapter 39

Summary:

The scope of the work Maze and Stiles are going to have to do to keep the seal from breaking just got a little clearer- and a lot more complicated.

 

Sitting down in the kitchen of Maze’s decently large rental home- her base of operations for this little trip- she was sitting there, watching him as he takes in all of what she told him. She is sitting across from him at the table, holding a cup of coffee- which Stiles had watched her pour a generous shot of Kaluha into earlier. Despite it being early evening, he definitely had needed the caffeine for this story.

“So, let me get this straight, and correct me if I get any of this wrong,” Stiles says incredulously to Maze, sitting back in his chair to give her a look.

“There are Angels here, and they are trying to get a man of faith to follow their word to the letter to unlock the seal, which is done by punishing sinners,” He says grimacing, “Even if that just means murdering every single one of them.” The Hound- which Maze had referred to earlier as Vigilance- lying down at Maze’s feet, rumbles dangerously at the mention of Angels.

 

It was a bit smaller than most of Maze’s typical canine companions, though just as dangerous-looking as all of the others. It had a patchy grey and black coat on its upper body with a rusty orange underbelly, its gleaming red eyes watching him sharply as he spoke, ears acutely pointed in his direction.

 

“That’s right.” Maze confirms, nodding her head slowly. Her hair, usually down, was done up in a neat, plaited ponytail. The rest of her outfit was not in her usual flashy style either- she looked ready to have to do some very sketchy things instead of going to a high-trend and very expensive popular nightclub.

Which, if what she just told him was true, was definitely about to be the case for him too.

The doing sketchy things bit, not the outfit part.

 

Stiles shakes his head slowly, comprehending how complicated this job of theirs just got. The coffee mug in his hands is now much cooler, having sat undrunk in his hands as Maze explained the situation to him.

The seal that Maze found was a particularly lucky find, truthfully. It was one of the many main seals- seals that essentially just made it easier to open the last seal. However, it was complicated as all Hell, especially once you accounted for where this was about to take place.

Maze told him that she honestly wasn’t sure that she had found the right place at first… Until the first body had dropped.

A naval petty officer in Washington D.C. was found dead in his home, one of his neighbors had called the authorities when they had found his body when they had come over to visit him.

Maze told him that she had snuck into the crime scene at the last moment before the body was taken away, and had seen a seal painted on the wall of the officer's living room- as well as carved into his corpse, according to her account of the scene.

That was a mere two hours before he had arrived, and Maze had yet to find any way to figure out who the so-called ‘faithful man’ was. Which was not really a great start, if they were meant to be stopping this guy from killing more people.

 

Truthfully, they wouldn’t know for certain who this ‘faithful man’ was unless they saw the Angels involved, which certainly didn't narrow down their search any- just made the confirmation of the man in question that much more certain.

Not to mention that the local law enforcement was no doubt going to become a problem for them- since the first person to die was in naval base housing, the likelihood of the next... Well... Victim being found on the base there was fairly likely, and the longer they were around, looking for the guy responsible for this murder, the more likely that they were going to be suspects.

And, on top of that, they only had two weeks to figure out who this guy was- probably less than that, now.

Not an easy task, by any means.

 

Stiles sighed. Great, guess it was back to skirting around law enforcement like his life depended on it.

 

“I guess we could start with places of worship and see if we can find any traces of Grace? I can’t really think of anywhere else to start.” Stiles suggests hesitantly.

Maze rolls her eyes but nods her head. “I figured that’s what you’d say, but you know,” She says, gesturing broadly to herself, “You’d be going in by yourself. Most houses of worship give me a nasty headache.” She explains with a sharp-looking smile. Vigilance huffs at her feet, seemingly in agreeance with Maze’s statement.

“Fine! Fine, I can deal with that- it’s probably for the best anyway. If this guy has Angels on his side, there’s no telling whether or not he’d instantly be able to tell that you were a Demon anyway- better to be safe than sorry, I suppose.” He exclaims, muttering the last bit to himself.

Maze shrugs before nodding. “True, I guess. Doesn’t really matter to me,” She says with a wicked smile, before pulling a dagger out of thin air and placing it on the table between them.

Stiles looks down at the blade, examining it briefly, before blinking in shock.

“Where’d you get this from?” He asks in astonishment, picking up the blade by the handle to closely inspect the inscription on the side of the base of the blade.

Maze’s grin turns into a smirk. “Got it off a dead Angel- where else?” She says in morbid delight, gazing with a strange adoration at the Angel blade in his hand.

It was a fairly dangerous one, as far as Angelic blades went, and most certainly came from a higher ranking Angel.

Well, it was certainly an added bonus. Weapons that could kill ethereal beings were slightly harder to find than ones that could kill demonic beings- Angel blades being one of those kinds of weapons.

It would definitely be a useful safety precaution.

Just in case.

 

“Well, it’s something alright. We’re definitely going to have to come up with something to stop these Angels- and probably this guy of theirs too.” Stiles says, thinking out loud, absentmindedly turning the blade in his hand.

“I’m perfectly happy to deal with whatever these Angel’s can throw at us- it’s only a matter of how quickly we can find this man of theirs.” Maze says calmly, taking the blade back from him.

Stiles takes a long drink of his cold coffee, sitting silently.

“Well, I guess we’d better get to work then,” Stiles says to her.

Her grin widens, twisting the blade in her palm with a dark, enthusiastic look.

 

Notes:

The crossover is coming soon, for those who had requested this crossover- probably in the next chapter or so, depending on where the chapter takes me, and I hope it'll be as good as I think it will be!

 

Also, here's the picture I'm basing Maze's canine companion off of, for those interested: a harlequin Beauceron.

https://i.pinimg.com/originals/17/a6/3a/17a63a3b98832016ab339ec2a42b6d7a.jpg

Chapter 40: Chapter 40

Summary:

Something is happening down at Quantico, and the team at NCIS is trying to get to the bottom of it all.

 

Huffing, Eleanor Bishop walks out of the elevator, running through her mind the information that Abby and Ducky had given her about their latest victim.

Jackson Taylor, twenty-seven. He had a girlfriend, Emma Dunnstead, and was employed as a fire and emergency services first responder for the marine base Quantico area.

Blood tests revealed little of note. There was alcohol in his system, but not nearly enough to kill him- barely enough to be counted as buzzed. There were no other drug traces in his blood that Abby could find, though she intended to run several more tests to make sure of her initial conclusion.

She’d gone down to autopsy next, to speak to Ducky about his conclusions of the cause of death, and if he’d found anything new.

 

Blunt force trauma had been the cause of death, Ducky told her. Hit over the back of the head several times. Taylor had been lying on the table when she came in, his dark hair stained red around the cracked-in part of the back of his skull.

The exact same symbol as before on the other victims had been carved into his chest with a knife. The blade being used was not a part of the scene when they arrived- by now though, they had a rough estimate of the size of the blade. About six inches was their going estimate, though that could change anytime.

The symbol was unconnected to anything they’d found so far. It had some connection to Christian or Greek symbology but was so unfamiliar to any actual symbol that nothing was forthcoming yet. Abby had yet to find any matches, despite having been scouring the internet and databases for days for any clue.

Their victim had been found dead at home, same as the others.

Sitting down at her desk, Eleanor began furiously typing down the report updates for the case.

 

This was the third victim in a week- and Eleanor could feel the case starting to wear on all of them. Gibbs had been pushing them all on the case to try and find their killer, to work harder to try and find their culprit.

Tony and McGee were both off base, tracking down the girlfriend for an interview. They had left three hours ago and were due back soon from the interview with Dunnstead- hopefully with something new for them to look into.

 

So far, there had been little connection between the victims. Taylor had no connections to the other two victims, as far as any of them were aware so far.

Jackson Taylor, Trevor Lowell, and William Tasker had nothing in common.

No concurring activities outside of their jobs, no places that they all regularly went to, nothing.

It was highly frustrating, and waiting to see if the next body had the connection they needed was starting to put them all on the edge.

Gibbs had gone to talk with Director Vance an hour after Tony and McGee had left, and also had yet to come back.

 

Honestly, Eleanor was in desperate need of a break and was considering grabbing something to eat from the vending machine, at this point. It had been hours since she’d last eaten anything.

She’d only had a few hours of rest each over the last few days, and she’d hardly seen Jake at all, besides when she’d come in at night to sleep, and for a few hours around dinner.

When the case let her go home to sleep, that is.

 

Startling her out of her thoughts, her phone started ringing, and she fumbled to pick it up fast enough.

It was Gibbs, and he was already talking when she got the phone to her ear.

“-Local PD picked up three suspects a few hours ago, I’m having them brought in. Neighbors heard a commotion and the police were called- caught three suspects at a crime scene in progress- it matches the M.O. of our killer. Be there to let the PD in.” He says and abruptly hangs up before letting her even respond affirmatively.

 

This… This was huge!

This could be the break they're looking for. The killer, caught in the act? Three killers?

‘Where were Tony and McGee?’ She thinks in silent frustration to herself.

No way was she going to interrogate the suspects all on her own- Gibbs was surely on his way already, but still.

Checking her watch as she stood, she figured she had about five minutes to get something from the vending machine before Gibbs showed up.

 

 

Walking down to interrogation, Tony catches Bishop’s eyes as he and Tim come down the hall towards the room Bishop was holding the door open for them to come into.

She has a pinched look about her face, which was all Tony needed to know that Gibbs had made it back before they did.

He turned slightly and gave Tim a look, before continuing on into the interrogation observation room.

Sure enough, Gibbs was standing by one of the two-way windows, observing the individual inside. Another man was standing next to Gibbs, dressed in a police uniform.

 

“How goes it, Boss?” Tony asks as cheerfully as he can manage, stepping around the table in the observation room.

Bishop seats herself at the table, the glow of the laptop screen on the table illuminating her face brightly in the dark of the room. She starts typing at the keys, Tony catching a glimpse of the report she had open as he walked past.

Gibbs has his arms crossed, which was not a good sign.

He turns and looks between him and Tim, who had stopped on Gibbs’ other side. Tony gives him a reassuring nod before turning his head towards the guy in uniform standing next to him.

“Chief Davis, meet the rest of my team- Senior Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, and Special Agent Timothy McGee,” He says, and the Police Chief, Davis, nods at the both of them.

Chief Davis looks at Gibbs briefly, who gives him a nod before he speaks again.

“Like I was telling Gibbs before, we didn’t pick up much on the other two suspects, other than their names. Out-of-towners,” He says in explanation, shrugging his shoulders.

“Father Daniel Howe, on the other hand, is pretty well known in the community. Does a lot of good faith work. He was the priest who officiated my nephew’s wedding- had an amazing speech prepared and everything,” He says, huffing in amusement. “Nearly had me in tears by the end.” He chuckles a little, then pulls out a card and hands it to Gibbs.

“Here. Didn’t have much time to get anything out of them besides getting the other’s names before you showed up, but if you need anything, give me a holler. We want this thing sorted out just as badly as you guys do, so if you need anything, let us know.” He says warmly, before walking out of the observation room.

Looking in the window, Gibbs nodded his head to point to the individual in the room.

Looking into the room himself, Tony notices first the dried blood on his hands and shirt, and the absent, empty look on the man’s face.

He was tanned caucasian, with dark hair and eyes. He was middle-aged and wearing a dark blue polo and tan slacks.

“Father Howe,” Gibbs says, and Tony nods his head slowly.

“Has he said anything?” Tony asks, and Gibbs slowly shakes his head, frowning.

“Not a word.”

Tim speaks up with a question next.

“What about the other two? The out-of-towners that Davis was talking about?” He asks curiously, and Bishop answers.

“A woman and a young man. A, uh,” She clicks at her mouse pad a few times, looking at the screen, squinting before shaking her head. “Mazeikeen Torquere and Stiles Stilinski. Both from California.” She says, stumbling a few times over their names.

“Are those even real names? Who names their kid Stiles?” Tony asks in disbelief. Bishop just shrugs.

“Don’t know, but they haven’t said anything either,” She says, before adding, “Well, the woman has, but she requested to call her lawyer.”

Gibbs turns and looks at McGee for a few seconds before speaking.

“Go talk with the kid-see if you can get anything from him,” Gibbs says, before stalking out of the room.

“Where’re you going, Boss?” Tony calls after him, and Gibbs just shouts over his shoulder as he walks down the hall towards the elevator.

“To talk with Abby!” He yells, and Tony shrugs. He turns and looks back at Tim.

“Guess you’re up,” He says, and Tim rolls his eyes exaggeratedly, grabbing the manila file on the table that Bishop had pushed over before walking out of the room into the hall.

Tony follows behind him, Bishop calling after them.

“He’s down the hall, two doors down from Howe!” She yells.

“Thanks, Bishop!” Tim yells back, before elbowing him in the gut and giving him a look.

“Thank you, Bishop!” He yells, and Tim stops giving him the disappointed look as much. Tony shakes his head fondly at Tim, who is now focused on pre-interrogation, clearly thinking to himself as they walk down the hall.

“Want me to come in?” He asks teasingly, and Tim shakes his head as he scans over the details in the file.

“No, I think I got this. Besides, Gibbs clearly thinks I’ll do better with the kid if he asked me to talk to him.” He says consideringly, opening the door to the interrogation room.

Tony catches a brief glimpse of the figure seated inside when the door opens before turning his attention back to Tim.

“I’ll just watch from the window then if you don’t mind,” Tony tells him, jerking a thumb over his shoulder to gesture to the observation room, and Tim shakes his head with a smile as he closes the interrogation room door.

 

 

The kid inside really was just a kid, Tim noticed, scanning over the files inside the folder again.

The arresting officers had caught Father Howe, the woman, and the kid with blood on them, and found a knife at the scene that matched the estimated length of the blade that was being used to carve the symbol into the chest of their victims.

The latest victim- Zachary Fortworth- was dead by the time the cops had arrived, making the victim count four instead of three now. There were a few pictures of the scene in the file, along with some notes from the officers about the scene.

They also found an additional three blades at the scene- two on the kid, and one on the woman. Although those were clean of blood, they had all been taken as evidence.

He hardly looked older than twenty, at most, his light brown hair buzzed short on the sides but longer on top. There was blood on his hands, and on the front of his shirt, but it was difficult to tell since he was in a black t-shirt and jeans, and unlike Father Howe, his hands were cuffed to the table.

He wondered briefly if it was Gibbs or the officers who had brought them in who had decided to lock the cuffs on the kid, before focusing back on what he planned to say.

He sits down across from the kid before speaking, putting the open file on the table in front of the kid.

The kid doesn’t even look down at the papers, continuing to look at him instead.

He clears his throat. “So, your full name is Stiles Stilinski?” He asks curiously, and the kid just gives him a withering look.

“No one can pronounce my first name. Stiles is a nickname, which I prefer to people constantly trying to butcher my first name.” He says sharply, with a sarcastic edge to his voice.

Tim blinks, surprised. He had a feeling this kid had no idea the full scope of how much trouble he was in and attempted to not mince his words as he continued to speak.

“You know that you are facing serious charges here. You were found at the scene of a crime which matches our case of a serial murderer,” He says seriously, expecting the kid to drop an edge of his nonchalance, or for something to show in his eyes.

Instead, a knock comes from the door, interrupting them.

 

 

Tony pushes open the door, a strange look on his face as he does.

Two individuals are standing behind him. Two men, both in equally sharp suits come into the room. One looks far more hassled than the other, the other with a sharp grin on his face.

Mr. Sharp grin is much more dangerous looking than his friend with a briefcase- he’s blond, with sharp blue eyes that felt like they were staring into his soul. The kid perks up at the sight of the blond man and his friend, and Tim paces over to Tony to ask him what the hell was going on.

Before he can even open his mouth to irritatedly get out his question, Tony is already whispering quietly to him.

“Legal showed up for the suspects besides Father Howe- Bishop already took Torquere’s lawyer to go see her,” He says, the strange look staying on his face.

“What about them?” Tim asks sharply, listening to the British-sounding accent coming from the two lawyers that were now talking to Stiles.

“The kid must have some pretty powerful friends in high places- blond guy is MI6- showed me his badge and everything. The other is a lawyer though.” He says, and Tim turns his head sharply to look at the blond agent.

He looks dangerous, and the kid was talking back and forth jovially with the agent, a friendly smile on his face as they engaged in conversation.

“What does MI6 have anything to do with this? The kid’s American, right?” He asks, and Tony nods.

“As far as I know, yeah. And I haven’t got the slightest idea why MI6 would be involved. Bishop told me she’s going to go get the Boss personally to let him know what’s happening. I don’t know how I feel about Torquere’s lawyer either, something felt... Off about him.”

Tim gives him a look, before pushing Tony out in the hall and closing the door behind him.

“What’re you doing?” Tony asks incredulously, still whispering.

“Waiting for Gibbs. Something serious is going on here, and I think he’s definitely better suited for figuring out what the hell is going on than we are right now.” He says and walks over to the connected observation room.

Inside, Tim gets a clear look at Ms. Torqueres and her lawyer, before turning and standing next to the observation window where Stiles is.

Tony stands next to him, looking between Stiles, the MI6 agent, and the lawyer.

“I don’t know what is happening,” Tony says, confusion evident in his voice.

Tim shakes his head, just as confused. “Neither do I, but hopefully, Gibbs can get to the bottom of this.”

 

Notes:

Don't worry, Stiles and Mazikeen will get out of trouble, and get to work with the team to figure these murders out! Also, surprise James Bond appearance as well.

Let me know what you think!

Chapter 41: Chapter 41

Summary:

More legal proceedings and Stiles thinks about how, exactly, did they get here?

 

Gibbs had been talking with the MI6 agent and the two lawyers for almost an hour now, Tony absently noted as he looked down at his watch. It was now mid-afternoon, and they had yet to emerge.

They were up arguing in one of the conference rooms, and Tony hadn’t gone up to see the extent of what their arguing match looked like currently yet- he was sure it was quite the shitshow if it was taking this long.

Usually, Gibbs could cut through lawyer types and get what they needed within a few minutes, but this was apparently one of the rare instances where someone was more stubborn than Gibbs.

The lawyers were already arguing against their clients being held as suspects when Gibbs had directed their arguing to a more private room, and the MI6 agent… Well, Tony still had no idea what he was doing there.

 

He, Tim, and Bishop were all sitting at their desks, working on what they could on the case, since their interviewing of the suspects had been ground to a halt.

Bishop had been working her way through yet another cup of coffee, though she still looked exhausted, having just made her way back from Abby’s lab and the autopsy room again.

 

“...So she’s positively identified at least one set of fingerprints on the murder weapon. There are at least three identifiable fingerprints, and a partial of another print, although we don't know at this point who the prints belong to yet. The blood on the weapon was a positive match for the latest victim, Lisa Cantwell, though Abby was able to identify another blood type around the base of the handle where the blade starts, though she hadn’t matched it with which of our other victims it belongs to yet when I spoke with her,” Bishop says, and Tony looks at the copy of the file on his desk, the face of the latest victim staring up at him.

 

Like the others, Lisa was roughly between her late twenties and early forties, the same as the other three victims, though she was the first female victim.

With Father Howe not responding to any attempts to start an interrogation, let alone any question they had asked him, and the other two suspects' lawyers arguing with Gibbs, they were getting nowhere fast with answers.

 

On their own, they still hadn’t found any additional clues for the connection between the four victims.

“When running Cantwell’s toxicology report, Abby also found,” Bishop, bites at her lip, frowning, before finishing with, “Found out that Ms. Cantwell was pregnant when she was murdered.”

Tony feels a churning in his gut he had hardly ever had since he had been a Probie- disgust.

Tim also has a similar look on his face as they briefly make eye contact, before Tim turns his head back over towards Bishop’s desk to ask her a question.

“I believe that the reports we got from the police said that Ms. Cantwell shared her apartment with her boyfriend- Kaelan Michaels, but the police weren’t able to get a hold of him- has that changed? Do we have any way of contacting him?”

Bishop clicks several times on her mouse as she scans her eyes over the screen before nodding slowly, turning back to look at Tim.

“Uh, yeah. We have his office phone number and his office room number- it was written down on a post-it next to the calendar in their apartment,” Bishop says, before looking between the two of them questioningly, “Should I go talk with him?” She asks earnestly.

 

Tony glances up at the conference room to see the door was still closed. The door doesn’t swing open while he’s staring at it, Gibbs barking instructions for them to follow. Making a decision, he nods his head.

“Yeah, go.” He tells her, and Bishop nods, shutting down her computer before grabbing her jacket and taking off.

 

Tony pushes up from his desk once Bishop was out of sight, pushing his chair behind him as he slowly walks over to Tim’s desk.

 

He leans up against the desk, looking up at the conference room as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Do you have any idea what could be taking Gibbs so long?” Tim asks tiredly, following his gaze.

Tony shakes his head. “Not a clue,” He says to Tim.

 

Hopefully, Gibbs would come out with the answers they needed, because they were seriously out of their depths at the moment.

 

 

Sitting in the interrogation room was endlessly boring, and if not for the fact there were probably cameras watching, Stiles would have summoned something small to pick the lock of his handcuffs.

He’d accidentally gotten stuck in his dad’s handcuffs enough times before to know how to get out of them on his own, and this sitting was making him anxious, his leg bouncing slightly underneath the table.

The police had detained him, Maze, and the killer, though no charges had officially been charged against them, as far as he was aware.

 

 

He and Maze had tracked down the killer, though it took them most of the week to figure out the connection.

The biggest clue was when even though the kills had been spaced out fairly evenly, the day that the next murder was to take place, it didn’t. A Sunday.

Checking all of the priests in the local area, it took them little to no time at all to figure out who their killer was.

Father Daniel Howe.

After that, the connection to the victims was easy to determine.

Father Howe was serving as the priest who took confessions for the last week- in fact, Stiles and Maze had managed to talk to one of the other priests, and found out that Father Howe had insisted on being the priest to handle confessions, insistent in such a way that he had actually concerned the priest they had spoken to.

That was how the Angels were deciding- by listening to what Father Howe was hearing and picking the people they wanted him to kill based on their transgressions.

The victims were all connected through the church they attended- either close friends or family of each victim attended church, and either through mention or directly through confessions, Father Howe had been directed to kill the victims.

 

He and Maze had actually gone to go talk to Lisa Cantwell, a good friend of Emma Dunnstead, about the murder of her boyfriend, Jackson.

They had managed to talk to her outside of the church just this morning and managed to get out of her that she was worried about her friend, and what had happened when she talked briefly about her concern about what was happening with Father Howe.

Something about him and the church was concerning her, and she had offered to talk to them later in the day, but she had insisted that they come to her home later, when she was feeling better.

She had looked rather ill when they had spoken with her, so he agreed to it. Maze had no opinion in particular, and thus had also agreed to wait to talk with her.

 

When they’d arrived at the apartment complex about two hours later, something hadn’t felt right. Maze had agreed with his uneasy feeling, and both of them were very wary as they went up the stairs towards Lisa’s apartment.

When they heard blood-curdling screams, the two of them rushed up the rest of the flight of stairs to the apartment and shoved their way inside the open apartment door.

 

Father Howe was crouched there in her living room, a wide-eyed look as he whipped his head around to look at them, Lisa Cantwell lying on the floor as a massive pool of blood was spurting out of her and dripping onto the floor around her.

Howe was poised with the knife to strike again, his entire front covered in Lisa’s blood.

Maze rushed forward and had practically yanked Howe halfway across the room with one quick move, twisting her hand and snapping his wrist sharply to get him to drop the bloody knife he was using to butcher the woman, the knife clattering loudly to the floor.

Stiles rushed forward and attempted to stifle the flow of blood out of Lisa’s torso with his hands and with her own shirt, but he could already tell that the amount of blood she’d already lost was far too much, even if he used magic to heal her.

Looking in her eyes, Stiles watched as she made the connection too, her breath stuttered as tears fell from her eyes.

She was choking as she muttered to herself, coughing up more blood as she whispered, more tears welling in her eyes. “I… I’m s-sor...ry, Kay. S-so… Sor...ry…” She whispered, and fell utterly still, her eyes fluttering shut upon her last breath.

 

Father Howe had stopped writhing around as much as she died, staring at her unmoving corpse with a vacant but pleased look on his face, and the vicious look Maze was giving Howe almost made him feel sorry for the priest.

Almost.

 

Instead, to their great surprise, police officers entered the scene at that moment and began to separate the three of them.

 

After a trip down to the police station and being put into rooms at the station there for a few hours, the three of them were being transferred to another building quite some distance away.

The next thing he knew, the three of them were at the Naval Criminal Investigation unit on Quantico base, being shown to interrogation rooms.

The agent that had come in to talk to him gave Stiles the impression that he and Maze were likely the main suspects in the investigation- just like he thought would happen.

Unsurprising. The scene that the police officers had stumbled upon didn’t exactly scream ‘innocent’.

 

What was surprising was when another agent had entered the room to let someone else into the room, and to talk to the agent that was interrogating him.

Well, two someones, actually.

 

Mycroft was very fast. He’d gotten a lawyer lined up for him within minutes of learning he’d gotten arrested.

James, however, was a surprising addition to both him and Mycroft, apparently.

Mycroft had been visiting James’ boss when he’d gotten the news and had told his brother what was going on when he had been informed of Stiles’ arrest. James had promptly decided upon hearing the news that he would go along with whatever lawyer Mycroft was sending, whether or not Mycroft wanted him to or not.

Sounded about right to Stiles, honestly.

Stiles had talked briefly with the lawyer Mycroft had sent- and with James, for a bit- about what he and Maze were doing when they were arrested, which is also when he learned that she'd had a lawyer arrive at the same time as they did.

From the sounds of the guy, he was definitely one of Lucifer’s. Legal representation from Hell. Literally. The thought had almost made him chuckle out loud at the irony.

 

Both James and the lawyer had left when another, slightly older agent entered the room and asked to speak with them. The lawyer jumped at the chance and began demanding to hear what the charges were.

The agent attempted to change the subject as they moved out of the interrogation room, but the lawyer was very insistent.

James was just standing there in the room watching them as they began leaving, but the agent had insisted that James come with him and the lawyer as they left the room, so he left as well, a grin on his face as he followed them.

 

Stiles had a decent feeling about what was about to happen, but if it didn’t happen faster, then they all could be let off if no charges were pressed quickly enough. They had already been in custody for about six hours. The length of time they could be held without having charges levied against them varied, but usually was from 48 to 72 hours.

 

Which was fine for him and Maze, but might be a bit of a problem regarding Father Howe.

 

Hopefully, Mycroft and Lucifer’s choice in legal representation would be enough to get them out of this tight spot quick enough to prevent the Seal from being finished.

If Howe managed one- no, two- more kills after being released, he would likely be able to satisfy the requirements of the Seal.

 

Stiles just hoped that the Angels themselves wouldn't become a problem, but he had serious doubts about that too.

 

Chapter 42: Chapter 42

Summary:

Gibbs finds out that the suspects were released, and Abby confirms what was already known about the identity of the killer.

 

“Gibbs!” Tony called, rushing down the hallway to catch up with him, stopping him in the hallway. “Gibbs,” He repeats again, as he tries to catch his breath.

As he was frantically trying to catch his breath, Gibbs was giving him a look as he tried to speak.

“What is it, DiNozzo?” Gibbs asks sharply. He sounds impatient and has the irritated look to match.

Tony takes a moment to take a deep breath before speaking. “Director Vance gave the order about ten minutes ago- all of the suspects were let go,” He says, frowning with a wince. “Sorry, Boss.”

“When did this happen?” Gibbs asks, the edge to his voice dark, and not unfamiliar to Tony.

“Just a few minutes ago,” He says, following behind Gibbs as he takes off down the hall towards the front entrance. “I’m sorry, but it was a direct order from Vance, he-”

“I don’t care about that, did you see which way they were going?” Gibbs cuts him off.

 

Tony’s mind comes to an abrupt halt before shaking off the confusion, catching himself before he misstepped and falls down and continues to follow behind Gibbs as he cuts across the room towards Tim and Bishop.

“Uh, no Boss, but they can’t have made it too far,” He says, before asking, “Did you find something?”

Gibbs addresses all three of them as he speaks, coming to a halt and getting Tim and Bishop’s attention, Tony stopping too.

 

“One of the lawyers let slip- they think Father Howe is the killer.”

Tim makes eye contact with him, giving him the same look of confusion that Tony is sure that he’s showing on his face as well.

“And you think they’re telling the truth? We don’t have anything to suggest that Father Howe is any more guilty than the other two,” Tim asks incredulously, only for Gibbs' phone to start ringing.

He reaches for his pocket, pulling it out of his pocket and answering it without looking at who the caller was.

“Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs!” Abby yells as Gibbs answers the phone, turning the speaker on.

“What is it, Abby?” He asks.

“I positively identified the fingerprints on the murder weapon!” She says, and Tony can practically hear her bouncing up and down on the other end of the phone.

“Yeah?” Gibbs says, and Abby continues.

“Since I had the other weapons, I was able to cross-check for similar prints on any of the other weapons- neither of the weapons belonging to Stilinski or Torquere positively matched the fingerprints on the murder weapon,” She explains.

 

Good Ol’ Abby, coming through with the answers when they needed them.

 

“-Not only that, but I was able to check and see if the fingerprints of Lisa Cantwell were on the murder weapon, to see if it came from her kitchen,” She explains, before saying firmly, “Not even a partial match, and the sizes of fingerprints on the weapon was much larger than hers.”

Gibbs has an appreciative look on his face as he talks to Abby. “So what you’re saying is-” Gibbs says, before Abby excitedly speaks over him.

“Father Howe is your killer!” She pauses for a few seconds, before adding, “Which, you’re lucky I found out, ‘cause these two agent guys stopped by to get those other weapons just a few minutes ago, and they just left with them.”

“Gotta go Abs, but thanks,” Gibbs says, before turning to talk to them.

“Wheels up, we’re heading out,” He says, Bishop scrambling to gather her things as Tim grabs his jacket and slings it over his shoulder, walking in step beside him and Gibbs.

“Bishop, with me. DiNozzo, McGee, I want you to go to the church where Father Howe works, see what you can find out.”

“Where are we going?” Bishop asks, catching up to them as they all head out into the parking lot.

Gibbs gives her a look after he finishes scanning the parking lot, unsatisfied with whatever he didn’t find.

“We’re going to go talk with our other suspects.” He says, before walking out into the parking lot, Bishop following behind him, shooting them a little bit of a nervous glance before following further after Gibb’s retreating form.

 

Tony brushes his shoulder against Tim’s, looking at him with a wide grin.

“Are you driving, or am I?” He asks, Tim, rolling his eyes before pulling out his keys.

“I’ll drive,” He says, bumping his shoulder lightly against his in a playful manner as he walks past him. Tony shakes his head with a smile, before following after him out into the parking lot.

 

 

Bishop stands behind Gibbs as he knocks on the door of the address that Gibbs had driven them to, the curtains were drawn almost completely over the windows.

It was 2:36 in the afternoon, though most of the lights inside the building appeared to be off, and she was kind of wondering if they were even home.

“What exactly are we hoping to achieve here?” Eleanor asks, shifting on her feet.

 

Gibbs had been trying, mostly unsuccessfully, to get somewhere with the lawyers over the last two days, and she was as dead on her feet as the rest of them.

She was exhausted, but she was trying to stay awake as well as she could.

Gibbs gives her a look before responding. “We need to find out what they were doing in Lisa Cantwell’s apartment, and the best way for us to do that is to ask.” He tells her, and they both hear a skittering noise from behind the door, the clicking of nails on a hardwood floor.

A whine follows the clicking noises, and footsteps approach the door as the whining continues. A voice speaks behind the door, although the words aren’t clear, although the sounds coming from the dog inside retreats further into the house shortly after.

The door cracks open an inch, and the woman, Torquere, is standing there, now looking at them.

“Yes? What do you want?” She asks, her voice sharp as honed steel.

“We just want to talk,” Bishop says politely, and the woman clearly resists the urge to scoff.

A voice from further inside the house calls out, “Who is it Maze?”

“A silver fox and blonde rabbit with a badge.” The woman yells inside the house as a response, seemingly non-sequitur, though the voice seems to accept it as an answer.

“What do they want now?” The voice asks, rather confused sounding.

“They want to talk,” Torquere says, her incredulity now very obvious.

“Meh, sure. Invite them in, would you?” The voice called nonchalantly, and Bishop traded looks with Gibbs as the door was opened wide enough to let them both inside.

 

Bishop had a feeling that Gibbs was right, as usual, about his gut feelings. Something about this was off, though she had no idea as to what it was.

She just hoped that they could figure out what was happening, and put a stop to it.

 

Notes:

Sorry about this one being rather short, but I've got things actually planned to have happen next chapter!

Chapter 43: Chapter 43

Summary:

Eleanor and Gibbs talk with Stiles and Maze, and Gibbs gets to pet a dog. Also, McGee and Tony might be in a bit of trouble.

 

Stepping carefully inside the cool, air-conditioned air of the rental, Eleanor watches Torqueres as they walk past her in the doorway and into the house. Torqures blatantly ignores them as they do, and instead turns around and walks further into the house, out of view around a corner.

Eleanor looks over at Gibbs to see what they should do next, but he is scanning around the entryway like he’s looking for trouble, so she turns to look back in the direction that Torqueres walked off.

 

A decently large black and orange patched dog comes scrabbling across the hardwood floor towards them, growling softly as it approaches, its ears partially flattened back against its head. Eleanor backs up slowly, unsure of how to react, a small bolt of fear lancing through her as the dog gets closer, still growling.

Instead of being wary and backing away from the approaching dog, Gibbs simply lowers his hand down to the dog’s level, watching in his typical blank, calm-faced manner as the dog approaches his outstretched hand.

The dog, still growling, sniffs his outstretched hand for several nerve-wracking seconds for Eleanor.

Internally, she was freaking out, wondering what would happen next if the dog got aggressive and decided to tear into Gibbs’ hand with the teeth it was baring at them as it had approached them.

The dog instead, thankfully, nudges its nose against Gibbs' hand in a fairly friendly manner, the growling trailing off as Gibbs begins gently petting over the dog’s head in long, gentle strokes.

Gibbs smiles one of his few friendly smiles- the ones reserved for animals and small children- and continues to pet the dog, who is now happily wagging its tail.

Eleanor watches, feeling mildly like she was watching Gibb’s friendlier doppelganger as Gibbs drops on one knee and continues to pet the dog, now scratching behind one of its ears as its tail begins wagging even harder.

 

“Vigilance! What’re you doing out here? Didn’t Maze put you back in one of the rooms?” The young man says as he comes around the same corner Torqueres had disappeared behind, and the dog, Vigilance, whines at the scolding, turning to look at the man as he approaches them.

The dog barks twice, a very loud sound for the size dog it was, and trots over to him, still wagging its tail as it does.

“Sorry about that,” The man, Stilinski, says. “She’s very defensive, but she’s not much of an attack dog,” He says, chuckling a little as he strokes the top of Vigilance’s head.

Vigilance chuffs, then barks again, seemingly chagrined.

Eleanor resists the urge to scoff at his statement, as the dog very much seemed like it had enough teeth to do as much damage as it liked.

Eleanor also notes for the first time that the dog has a very unnerving eye color, a bright crimson that almost appeared to glow as the dog looked between her and Gibbs.

Gibbs gets up off the floor, brushing off his hands as he does.

“She’s got an appropriate name, then,” Gibbs says to him with a hint of humor in his voice, and Stilinski nods in agreement.

“Maze has got a thing for naming her dogs like that. She trains and raises them in her spare time,” He says with a shrug, and Vigilance barks again.

 

“I’m, uh, still not exactly clear on what it was that you and Ms. Torqueres were doing at Ms. Cantwell’s apartment,” Eleanor says abruptly, trying to address the reason that she and Gibbs were even there.

Stilinski is silent for a few seconds, then shrugs again.

“Maze and I had an interview with Ms. Cantwell. We showed up, and things were going to hell,” He says slowly. “Not sure what else is there to explain.”

“There’s more to this that you're not telling us, isn’t there?” Gibbs asks, and Stilinski sighs.

“Yeah,” He says. “Maze and I figured out how and where Father Howe has been, uh, picking his victims.” He says, a little disturbed sounding.

However, his reaction is far too casual for this to be a new thing to him- the calm air surrounding him was too great for someone who was experiencing a violent situation for the first time in their life.

“It’s really been Father Howe this whole time?” Eleanor asks, and Stilinski nods, raising his hand and giving a ‘so-so’ gesture.

“He’s the one killing people, yeah,” He says, giving a stray glance to look towards the window, “Maze and I think there’s someone that’s directing him to kill these people, but we haven’t exactly got the evidence to back any of this up.” He says, frowning.

“How are… They, uh, choosing these victims?” She asks, glancing towards Gibbs, and his face is back to being as calm and blank as usual.

“People who go to the church. Specifically, people who go to Father Howe for confessions. If they have doubts about a person, anything that could be seen as someone drifting away from the church, or committing what could be seen as a sin.”

“Committing sin?” Gibbs asks, and Eleanor can hear the same disbelief she feels in his question.

The question is answered by Torqueres, who walks back around the corner, speaking sarcastically as she does.

“Yeah. Old Testament style, stoning people to death kinda stuff. Some whacko religious nutjob that’s gotten Father Howe to do all the heavy lifting for them.” She says, tilting her head before scrunching up her nose. “Not as impressive as you’d think. It’s way easier than you’d think it’d be to sway religious folk to do your bidding,” She explains casually with a huff, examining her manicured nails as she speaks.

“So he’s going to keep trying to find people to kill, even though he spent a long good stint in an interrogation room? I sincerely doubt he’d risk that again,” Eleanor says, frowning, ignoring for the moment the weird way that Torqueres had spoken about Father Howe.

“Oh, he’d risk it, all right. I kinda have the feeling that whoever is behind him pulling the strings is more than enough of a threat themselves. I don’t think Howe would be doing this if they weren’t,” She says, with a sharp, dark-looking grin.

“What happened to those other agents, by the way? The charming one and his clever partner? You didn’t send them to go to that church all on their own, did you?” She asks with a curious grin and shakes her head, tsking as she takes in the looks on their faces.

“They’re an adorably cute couple, aren’t they?” She says, before adding solemnly, “Only, I have a feeling that whoever is acting as Father Howe’s conscience won’t quite see them quite the same way.”

Eleanor looks over to Gibbs, who now has a very grim look on his face. A bolt of concern rushes through her for Tony and McGee at the look on his face, whipping her head back around as Stilinski and Torqueres talk to each other.

 

Stilinski looks over to Toqueres, then says, “You know what, I think they did. Should we lend them a hand, do you think?” He asks her casually, and Toqueres smiles magnanimously.

“I’m feeling generous. You know what? Sure, why not?” She says, and Vigilance barks excitedly and wags her tail down by Torqueres’ feet. She looks down at the dog and shakes her head slowly.

“Not you, Vigilance, sorry. If you’d fetch Shadow and Hunter though, that’d be wonderful,” She says apologetically, looking down at the dog before bending down and giving the dog a soft pat on the head as she continues to mutter under her breath. “If Juliet is still there, I swear to Lucifer, I will maim that demonic little man. I know that Crowley has been leaving her around my kennel, but I’ve told him before to get his own sitter for his hounds.”

Vigilance whines and whimpers sadly then slinks off further into the house.

Stilinski turns back to looking at them. “We’d better get going, then. Your agents are gonna be in trouble any moment now,” He says and grabs a set of keys off of a table in the entryway before handing them to Torqueres.

Eleanor pulls out her phone and attempts to call Tony, her heart skipping a beat as it immediately goes to voicemail. Gibbs watches her, and she shakes her head as she hangs up.

Two large dogs come racing down the hallway, barking excitedly as Torqueres pushes past them and out the door.

One is a large orange and black hound with large, flopping ears. The other has very short white and orange hair, and lithe musculature.

The two rush up to Stilinski, sniffing excitedly around him for a few moments, before rushing over to Torqueres and following behind her as she goes outside.

“Well, are you coming? Your agents are probably facing a life or death situation, so…” Stilinski trails off, before gesturing out towards the door that Torqueres just walked out of.

Looking over to see what Gibbs wanted to do now, Eleanor was surprised to find that Gibbs was already turning around and heading out of the door.

 

Stilinski gestures out the door again, and Eleanor steps outside in a rush to follow out behind Gibbs, hoping desperately that the strange individuals they had met were wrong, and that Tony and McGee were fine.

 

Notes:

I love looking up what Maze's various Hellhounds would look like to the human eye- and thus I have two more additions!

https://i.pinimg.com/originals/65/72/00/657200a8f178ac9e7a3d4a84fa04acca.jpg -Hunter, an Ibizan Hound

https://i1.wp.com/puppytoob.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/11/Black-and-Tan-Coonhound-1.jpg?resize=749%2C512 -Shadow, a Black and Tan Coonhound.

Chapter 44: Chapter 44

Summary:

Stiles, Maze, Gibbs, and Bishop go to confront Father Howe at the church.

 

Maze was driving the rental car, and the two agents- who Stiles had finally learned the names of- Special Agent Bishop and Supervisory Special Agent Gibbs were right behind them as they pulled into the mostly empty parking lot of the church where the two agents- Special Agent DiNozzo and Special Agent McGee- had gone.

Maze had explained what she had put together about the other two agents to him earlier, having mentioned it to him after they were released and were getting their things back from holding just a few hours earlier.

Stiles wasn’t expecting the agents to come and try to talk to them again, so it was a bit of a surprise when they had knocked on the door of their rental. He did want to help with making sure that Father Howe got what he deserved, however, and agreed to talk to them. Maze, however, was not exactly happy to see them again but had relented when he had agreed to talk to the agents.

Once SSA Gibbs and SA Bishop told them that those two agents had gone to talk with Father Howe, Stiles connected why Maze had pointed out their relationship to him in the first place.

Despite the concern radiating from SA Bishop, SSA Gibbs didn’t seem much more than a little bit concerned about the wellbeing of his agents, so Stiles assumed that Special Agents DiNozzo and McGee would be more than capable of dealing with Father Howe and could handle him on their own.

It wasn’t Father Howe that Stiles was really concerned about, however.

 

“-And I don’t think that Crowley has realized that I will retaliate for this. It takes forever to get any sort of property space down there, what with all the paperwork that it takes to put through, but still! I am through with him using my things without asking, and if he isn’t going to have his Hounds spayed, then I won’t allow it! I won’t!” She exclaims, and huffs irritatedly, pulling into an open parking spot.

Despite the heat of it being the middle of June, Maze was wearing a full-sleeved leather jacket, seemingly unaffected by how hot out it was getting to be.

Whining excitedly in the back of the car, Shadow and Hunter were both practically jumping to get out of the car, though they were well trained enough not to be barking their heads off at their excitement to be doing something on the Above ground.

Maze gathered two heavy-looking chain leashes from the back seat and was clipping them onto her Hellhounds collars as Stiles got out of the rental car, looking around.

Across the parking lot, SSA Gibbs and SA Bishop were stopped beside another car, looking around the church parking lot as they stood beside it.

Approaching them, Stiles waves at SA Bishop as she looks over in his direction, Maze following behind him as he makes his way across the parking lot towards them.

 

SA Bishop greets him and begins speaking to them as they get closer. “Well, this is DiNozzo’s car. I still haven’t gotten a text back from him or McGee, and all of my calls have gone straight to voicemail.” She says, frowning as she looks down at her phone screen.

Maze looks over at the front of the church, frowning as her Hounds were whining, sniffing, and pawing around on the ground.

“How long ago did they go in?” Stiles asks them. SSA Gibbs, who seemed to have very few facial expressions, answered him as he un-holstered his sidearm.

“About an hour, hour and a half ago,” He answers and heads towards the entrance of the building, SA Bishop taking out her firearm and following after him.

Maze shares a look with him, before gesturing towards the back of the church, and he follows behind her.

 

Shadow and Hunter were both barking menacingly, rattling their chain leashes loudly as they try and yank Maze forwards, seemingly very upset at something as they get closer towards the back of the church.

"Ssst! Down!" Maze told them scoldingly, but the two Hellhounds continued to jump and pull on their leashes, growling deeply.

 

One of the side back doors of the church bangs open suddenly, and a fairly young-looking woman comes rushing out, practically tripping down the steps as she runs down them. Her hands are tied behind her back, and she is crying heavily, her mouth covered by a piece of duct tape.

Maze catches the woman as she almost falls face-first onto the concrete, the Hounds sniffing excitedly at her clothes and face as Maze helps her untie her hands and peels the tape off of her face.

“What happened to you? Are you okay?” Stiles asks the horrified woman.

Still crying, the woman keeps looking back towards the door she had run out of as she answers, stuttering nervously, shaking, and wrapping her arms around herself as she tries pushing herself further away from the door along the ground.

“It… It’s Father Howe! He- He was trying to kidnap me! He had a gun… And that horrible knife!” She sobs, rubbing the sleeve of her suit jacket agitatedly at the smeared makeup that was running down her face as she continued to cry, pointing back towards the door of the church. “Those agents… They, they, helped me escape when he wasn’t looking! They’re still in there…”

Maze gives him a look over the woman's head, still holding firmly the leashes of the Hounds as they try to get out of her grasp, barking and growling as they try lunging towards the door the woman had run out of.

“Where are they? Do you remember?” Stiles asks her, keeping his voice even as not to scare the woman further.

The unnatural barking sounds from the Hellhounds didn’t seem to be disturbing her at all, but best to try and not to anguish the mind of the poor woman further.

 

The woman nods in a stiff, jerking motion before answering.

“He… He was keeping us in one of the back rooms,” She says, rubbing at the raw skin around her wrists. “H-he kept saying these awful things about those agents, and about m-me. He was talking out loud to himself the whole t-time.” She explains, “B-but there was no one there. He didn’t have one of those Bluetooth things in or… Or anything.” She sobs, before letting Maze gently ease her up off the ground to standing.

“We just saw some other agents go in the front, but we can call the cops for you if you’d like?” Maze says to her, and the woman nods her head very enthusiastically.

“H-he took all of our phones when the two agents' phones wouldn’t stop g-going off.” She stutters, and Maze pulls out her phone to call the cops.

“Go see if they need any help,” Maze says shortly to him and passes him the folded-up cloth she was keeping the Angel blade wrapped in, and Stiles nods. prepared to let her handle the situation outside, all three of them practically jump when a gunshot goes off from inside the church, the Hounds howling to get at the door now.

 

Stiles runs up the side stairs and finds that the side door was unlocked, and once inside, follows the sound of voices, hoping that he didn’t find anything horrible- since the woman had said that Father Howe had a gun on him, he feared the worst might have happened to the Agents.

Turning towards an open room where the voices were coming from the loudest, an unfamiliar figure was standing there in the room, speaking. Stiles gets close enough to duck behind the nearest doorway and listens.

“-I had thought that he might prove to be a worthy candidate. No matter. It is still possible that if we complete this by ourselves-” The Angel says, holding a knife to the throat of one of the younger male agents- Agent McGee, if Stiles remembered correctly.

Father Howe was lying on his back on the floor, having clearly fallen over backward after a gunshot directly to the head, if the bullet hole in his forehead was any indication.

SSA Gibbs was lying prone on the floor, firearm still in his hand, but there didn’t appear to be anything wrong with him that Stiles could see, other than that he was unconscious.

Agent DiNozzo was still mostly tied to a chair, struggling to move, his mouth covered over with duct tape. Agent Bishop was angrily yelling as another unfamiliar figure held her down with ease and tied her to another chair that was next to Agent DiNozzo's.

 

Angels.

 

Stiles curses under his breath, then reaches into his pocket and unwraps the cloth around the Angel blade, muttering silently and chanting a small spell over himself that would give him a brief few moments of completely silent movement.

Stiles hopes that the few moments of silence will be enough for him to get close before ducking out from behind the spot where he was hiding behind the doorway.

 

Moving forward, Stiles slams the blade directly into the back of the Angel directly in front of him with as much force as he could get behind the motion, before yanking the blade back out.

The Angel yells out in agony, shrieking as the essence of their Grace seeps out of their vessel in a bright flash of bluish-white light, the vessel falling lifelessly to the hardwood floor- the Angel and vessel alike both dead as could be.

Agent McGee manages to catch himself before he hits the floor, and this gives Stiles the opportunity and the opening he needs, as the second Angel in the room rushes to move closer to him and away from Agent Bishop.

Stiles takes a deep breath, and puts as much force as he can behind the throw, sending the blade flying directly into the chest of the other Angel, the Angel staring down at it in shock before screaming out as they pull the blade out of their own chest.

The blade clatters from their hand and onto the ground as they grasp weakly and desperately at their chest, a thin stream of the same bluish-white light escaping from them as they continue to screech and claw at their chest until the sound reaches a peak, and the glass window and all of the lights around them burst in a rain of shattered glass.

 

‘Huh. I think I know what Dean was talking about when he said he’d first met Castiel now.’ Stiles blinked, trying to hear himself think as the ringing in his ears faded.

Now in the dark, Stiles leans down next to Agent McGee, who is sitting on the floor and staring in silent shock at the body of the Angel that had collapsed onto the floor.

“You okay?” Stiles asks him, placing a hand cautiously on his shoulder as he asks the question, and the agent just slowly turns his head around to look at him, the shocked look still on his face.

“Who are you?” He asks, looking equally horrified and confused.

Stiles huffs, mildly amused at the Agent’s reaction. “It’s, uh, a long story,” He says with a nervous smile.

And boy, was it.

 

Notes:

Well, that's it for NCIS for now, I think. I'll be wrapping it up and returning back to what the rest of the gang is up to next week, especially Peter and Simon!

Writing action scenes is hard, but hope you liked it!

Chapter 45: Chapter 45

Summary:

Stiles' welcome home does not go quite as he expected it to.

 

Explaining to the Special Agents what they just saw happening was quite the ordeal, which mostly devolved into a small exposition about the existence of the supernatural, only to be cut short when the police finally arrived.

The three Agents, however reluctantly, realized that they couldn’t reasonably explain what was happening to the cops that showed up to the scene without sounding like lunatics, and thus had agreed to keep silent on the matter, in the end, even going so far as to not explain to SSA Gibbs what it was that Stiles had told them.

He and Maze had to go down to the station, again, and give their testimonies. With the Agents working with them, it was thankfully a short affair, and it was only after 10 pm when they finally managed to get out of the station again.

Stiles had somehow ended up promising to pick up the phone if the Agents ever had any future questions about the Downworld- and Special Agents McGee and Bishop seemed like they would both be very eager to start asking him questions, once they got over their initial shock.

Stiles was the same way once, so he understood their sense of awe and shock intimately.

 

Maze and he both had gone back to the rental and tiredly stumbled their way towards their rooms. Despite being a Demon, Maze told him she enjoyed sleeping, on occasion, and it was an easy way to blend in with humans, although she seemed as exhausted as he was, in this case.

In the morning, after they'd had their coffee- or coffee and Kahlua, as Maze preferred- Maze told him that she was planning on sticking around Virginia for a few more days, just to make sure no more Angels tried sweeping in to try and finish the job. Though, she seemed to be taking it more as a safety precaution, not because she actually thought that the Angels would make a serious second attempt at unlocking the seal.

Stiles was just happy he got a chance to pet some Hellhounds without having his fingers removed in the process.

Stiles texted Lucifer to let him know that he and Maze had succeeded at stopping the Angels from unlocking that seal. Lucifer, as he pretty much was expecting, sent him a thumbs up as a reply.

 

Completely done and ready to sleep in his own house and bed again for once, Stiles made some concessions and decided to stop by a pizza place before he left, grabbing two meat lovers pizzas and a chicken garlic pizza to go, before portaling himself and his delicious bounty home.

 

Stiles teleports himself into the kitchen with the pizza boxes, looking around and finding it in minimal disrepair, for having been gone for over two weeks. Small mercies, thank God. There were even enough clean plates in the cupboard for everyone to use, even if Peter was still visiting.

He hadn’t heard much from Peter or Simon since he’d left about what had happened when they had gone to go and visit New York and the DuMort Clan, so Stiles was hoping that Peter was still here.

 

He steps out towards the dining room with the stack of pizza boxes, calling out towards the living room. “Hey! I got pizza, does anybody want-”

He stops, hearing a suspiciously large amount of noises coming from the living room, and instantly goes on alert.

Following a crashing sound, Stiles bolts towards the living room, fearing that somehow something had gotten into the house when it shouldn’t have. An Angel maybe? He’d certainly done enough to earn the ire of any number of Angels, at this point.

 

...Or not.

Instead, Peter is wolfed out and down on the ground next to the coffee table, beating the shit out of Hannibal with his fists- or at least, Stiles thinks the large, pitch black, antlered form on the floor is Hannibal. The Wendigo-shaped thing on the floor is currently trying its hardest to fight back, but Peter is being helped by Tony, who is pinning down the top half of the other creature- namely the sharp antlers and very sharp-looking clawed hands.

Both of them have a few small cuts on their face here and there, although the amount of blood on their clothes suggests that the cuts were definitely deeper not that long ago.

The shattered remains of one of his table lamps on the ground match fairly well with the crashing sound he’d heard, Stiles flicking his eyes around the rest of the room to try and figure out what the hell was going on.

One of his armchairs is overturned, and there are scratches on both his carpet and the bottom of his coffee table and couch before his eyes catch movement off to the side, anger, and irritation rising in him as continues to look around.

Will is sitting, crying on the stairs, Emma wrapped around him in a hug, alternating between giving Will apologetic and comforting looks, to glaring so viciously at Hannibal, that if she wasn’t holding Will, guaranteed that Hannibal would currently have less of his organs internally than externally than he’d like.

Simon, who is sitting on the floor halfway behind the couch holding Winston to prevent him from joining in on the fight, and watching the fighting as it was going on, starts laughing uncontrollably when they make eye contact.

Stiles clears his throat, the irritation he felt no doubt showing on his face.

“What in the fuck is going on here?!” Stiles asks, raising his voice to be heard over the ruckus that Peter and Tony were causing.

 

Instantly, all noise stops, Peter and Tony looking caught out as they whip their heads around to stare at him, the look on their faces more like that of guilty puppies caught chewing furniture when they aren’t supposed to than two full-grown men caught beating the shit out of someone.

Simon is still trying to stifle his laughter, and Stiles gives him an unimpressed look.

Simon flaps one of his hands as he bursts out laughing again, trying his best to hold his stomach while hunched over from laughing so hard and to keep a hold on Winston.

“It’s- oh my g..,” Simon gets out, his laughing petering down to a bout of chuckling as he attempts to speak, “Your face!” He laughs again. “You just came in with a stack of pizza boxes, and I just watched season three of Community, the one where Troy gets the pizza and comes back,” He grins, before bursting out into laughter again.

Thinking about it for a few seconds, Stiles snorts when he realizes what Simon was talking about, trying not to smile as he opens his mouth to scold him.

“Now is not the time, regardless of how appropriately funny it is,” Stiles says to him, mildly amused, before turning to look at Peter and Tony, all the humor dropping from his face.

“You three. Explain.” Stiles demands, gesturing to the destroyed nature of his living room with the pizza boxes still in his hands.

 

Peter and Tony look between each other, arguing only with wild gestures over which of them was going to answer his question first.

Hannibal was still lying on the ground, Peter partially sat up so that one of his knees was on Hannibal’s chest, partially pinning him down. Despite Peter and Tony both firmly with their attention towards him, Hannibal made no attempts to move.

Stiles was seriously hoping that whatever it was that started this mess was not Hannibal attempting to seriously overstep Will’s boundaries, or Stiles just might be fine with leaving the room to have deniability of what was currently going on.

“Well? Is someone going to answer me?” Stiles asks, doing his best to imitate his dad.

He’d certainly heard that expectant tone of voice plenty of times before, that much was for sure.

“Magnus came by with Hannibal about a half an hour ago, since he’d been talking on and off with him, and thought it’d be alright if he came by, for a little bit. We were all off doing our own things in different parts of the house, you know, to be nice and give the two of them some privacy while they were talking,” Peter finally says, before gesturing down to Hannibal, “Only, someone forgot they were in a house filled with people who also have advanced hearing.”

Stiles nods slowly, seeing if they were going to elaborate, but Peter snapped his mouth shut after he had finished speaking, looking like he didn’t want to say anything else. No one else pipes up, so Stiles looks around the room again.

“Okay. And do any of you care to explain what it was that pissed you all off so much that you felt the need to destroy my living room?” Stiles asks, desperately feeling the urge to cross his arms, despite the pizza boxes in his way.

This time, Emma pipes up, her arms still wrapped around Will in a tight hug as she speaks.

“Will got a text from Gabriel- y’know, since Gabriel set a really annoying ringtone to go off anytime one of us gets a text, as revenge for that prank Peter pulled about a week and a half ago,” Emma explains, and Stiles nods, unsure of how this was connected to the current situation going on.

 

Emma had texted him about the results of the prank while he was in Virginia, and Maze had laughed her head off at how petty the prank was, even going so far as saying she might do that to the next person that annoyed her.

Peter, Emma, Isaac, Simon, and Will had been hit with that particular prank. Tony hadn’t been home, so he’d been spared, fortunately enough.

Peter’s new text tone was set to Warren Zevon’s ‘Werewolves of London’, Emma’s the theme from Carebears, Isaac’s as Kanye West’s ‘Monster’, Simon’s a song from the first Twilight movie, and Will’s being Hall and Oates ‘Maneater’. No matter what they had tried, they hadn't been able to change them so far.

Gabriel had definitely had fun with that particular prank, needless to say.

 

“Okay, and?” Stiles asks, confused.

Emma’s eye is practically twitching with anger as she speaks. “So when his phone went off, the first thing Hannibal had to say was accusing him of cheating on him,” Emma says, far too many of her teeth showing as she speaks.

Ah.

 

Yeah, no, that would do it.

“Emma, would you mind taking Will and Simon with you to the kitchen? Take these, please,” He asks her calmly, holding the pizza boxes out for her to grab. She frowns, her mouth pinched tightly as she nods curtly.

She helps ease Will to stand up off the chairs, Will’s exhausted-looking face streaked with dried tears despite his efforts to wipe them away, Emma grabbing the stack of boxes on their way to the kitchen.

Simon picks himself up off the floor before bending over and grabbing Winston before disappearing into the kitchen as well, whispering something Stiles can’t hear under his breath as he leaves the room.

Stiles looks at the three still in the living room, and Hannibal finally opens his mouth to speak, probably to say something in his defense, only to be interrupted as the front door unlocks, opens, and then closes again down the hall, Stiles waiting to see who it was.

 

Isaac walks down the hall, smiling with a plastic bag of what looked to be junk food in his hands, only to freeze when he sees the state of the living room.

“Uhh,” He says, slowly walking towards him. “I’m gonna go,” He says with a nervous grin, gesturing behind Stiles towards the kitchen, openly staring at where Peter, Tony, and Hannibal are all sitting on the floor.

Isaac rubs his shoulder as he walks by, Stiles giving him a warm smile as he goes past, before turning his attention back to the three still sitting on his floor, crossing his arms over his chest, quietly thinking a prayer to get Gabriel’s attention.

‘Hey, Gabriel, I could really use your help right about now. You haven’t gotten a chance to meet Will’s mate yet, have you? Well, now would be a great time. You got any good trick realms cooked up? Something on the darker side, I’m thinking. That’s all, thank you, bye.’

Stiles sighs. “This was really not what I was hoping to come home to, you guys know that, right?” He says, looking disappointedly between the three of them.

Peter opens his mouth to speak, only for Gabriel to appear in his living room across the room from where Stiles was standing, a concerned look on his face.

He looks a little different than normal- his hair cut shorter, his eyes a bright purple, for whatever reason, and dressed in a fitted tan suit.

He takes in the scene in front of him, shaking his head in disbelief. “Whoo, what on Earth happened in here? Man, you really weren’t kidding, were you?” He asks Stiles with a smile on his face.

Stiles shrugs and shakes his head, before turning his head to look down and address Hannibal.

“Dr. Lecter. Since you apparently have problems with people being friends with Will that you haven’t met, you can spend some quality time with Gabriel,” Stiles says, looking over to Gabriel.

Gabriel frowns, then squints, Gabriel’s voice speaking directly in his head.

‘I take it the guy messed up, again. Anything particularly messed up you want me to do?’ He asks.

‘Whatever works for the really nasty people you’d deal with as Loki. Make it personal, if you want. It’ll take a lot to get this guy to fess up to any mistake on his part.’ Stiles tells him, and Gabriel nods, clapping his hands together, grinning wildly.

“Well! Looks like you and I are going to be getting to know each other really well, Doctor.” He says as he rubs his hands together gleefully, before snapping his fingers, both Lecter and Gabriel disappearing.

 

Peter and Tony stumble a little as Lecter disappears, before slowly picking themselves up off of the floor, acting as casual as possible as they got up and dusted themselves off.

Stiles finally speaks to the two of them, their attention rapt on him as he does.

“Both of you are responsible for whatever work it’s going to take to fix my goddamn living room. Got it?” Stiles asks, glaring at the two of them until they nod furiously in response.

“Good,” Stiles says, before gesturing to the kitchen behind him. “You guys gonna go get some pizza before it’s all gone or what?” He asks, smiling.

The two of them eagerly walk towards the kitchen, ready to leave this situation behind them, Stiles looking around at the state of his living room one more time before following behind them.

 

Boy, what a welcome home party.

Not that he was expecting that much, but damn. That was bad.

 

Notes:

Did you notice the fun bit about Gabriel’s appearance? I modeled his new looks off of how Gabriel looks in Good Omens. Thought it would be a nice bit to mix up his appearance for a while!

Chapter 46: Chapter 46

Summary:

Stiles takes Will to visit John and Sherlock, and reminisces on how the couple got together to begin with.

 

Despite the less than welcome reception he’d received, Stiles was still happy to be home, more or less. Making sure Will was alright after what had happened with Hannibal was his first priority. The rest of the household all seemed to be on the same page with him on that and were all comforting Will in whatever way that they could as they ate their lunch.

Peter and Tony were both acting overly protective of Will, milling around him as much as possible, while Emma sat next to him and refused to move more than a few feet from him during lunch. Isaac, who had gone to get soda and chips from the store, was horrified to hear what had happened in his absence.

Simon, who lacked some of the more over-the-top protective instincts of the other Werecreatures in the house, was no less disturbed by what had happened to Will. Winston, whom Simon had been holding onto so he wouldn’t get hurt by trying to join in on fighting with Hannibal, was lying on Will’s feet and rumbling warningly at anyone who came too close to him, and therefore too close to Will.

Not a single one of them, however, seemed to want to elaborate on what it was specifically that had led to Peter and Tony managing to pin Hannibal to the living room floor since they had all said they were in different rooms when they’d heard Hannibal say what he did to Will.

It only bothered Stiles a little that they all had seemed to come to an agreement not to tell him what had gone down, but Stiles knew that they wouldn’t be able to keep it from him for long.

Besides- given another day or so, Stiles was going to check in with Gabriel to see how Hannibal was managing with ‘getting to know’ him.

Stiles hadn’t seen much of Gabriel in action back when he was acting only as Loki, but as far as Trickster’s went, Loki was one of the ones known to be far more vicious towards mortals than others, so Stiles knew he had it in him to knock Hannibal’s ego down a notch or two.

Hannibal, by all means, fit most of the categories of the kinds of people that brought the attention of Tricksters onto them. Cruel, a danger to others, or particularly vicious to others who don’t deserve it. While not a human- the preferred victims of most Tricksters- Hannibal would have easily caught the ire of any other Trickster out there.

It just so happened that the Trickster he was dealing with was also an Archangel, and probably indescribably more powerful for being one.

Stiles almost felt sorry for him- almost.

 

As a suggestion by Peter at the end of lunch, Stiles ended up preparing a portal to go visit John and Sherlock with Will.

Stiles hadn’t yet had a chance to congratulate them about their engagement in person, and Will had begrudgingly conceded to getting a checkup to make sure that the babies were alright, after the rather stressful encounter he’d had with Hannibal.

 

Walking through the portal and into Sherlock and John’s flat, Stiles immediately spots Sherlock, lounging on the couch in only a bathrobe, sipping lazily from a cup of tea. John is nowhere to be seen in the living room, though Stiles hears the sound of silverware and a kettle in the kitchen, so he assumes that John must be at home as well.

“Afternoon Sherlock,” Stiles says, at which Sherlock only responds with a dull hum.

“Stiles, is that you?” John’s voice calls, the man poking his head out of the kitchen doorway to give him a small wave and a smile. He’s wearing a thin gray sweater of his usual caliber, a delightfully dreadful-looking thing with light blue cross-stitching across the front. “Hallo! Be with ya in a mo’,” he says quickly, before ducking back into the kitchen once again.

“Congrats on your engagement, by the way,” Stiles tells Sherlock, at which Sherlock groans irritatedly, before deigning to speak to him.

“First Mycroft, then Lestrade… Even Anderson! What is the deal with everyone being so cheerful and offering their congratulations about my success at proposing? Not that it’s any of their business, to begin with…” Sherlock grumbles, clearly sick of the social interactions people were forcing upon him.

Stiles expected minimal reaction with Sherlock to begin with during the visit and was surprised that he was even acknowledging his presence, let alone acknowledging his well wishes.

Will slowly steps out from the portal, and Stiles closes it with a gesture of his hands, only for Winston to come barreling through it at the last second, his nails skittering across the hardwood of the flat’s floor as he comes to a stop.

“Winston! No, no, no, I told you to stay put!” Will scolds, bending over as far as he can to snap his fingers by his side, down where Winston can see his hand clearly. Winston shrinks a little at being scolded but walks back towards Will, tail still wagging happily as he goes.

Sherlock, startled by the sudden noise of Winston’s nails, turns his head to look over in Will’s direction.

To Stiles' surprise, the usually casual aloofness that the consulting detective had had was gone, as he placed his cup of tea down and clambered to his feet.

Sherlock curiously approached Winston, who had turned around to look at Sherlock as he got closer.

 

While Winston rumbled a little, Sherlock was very careful to telegraph his intent as he put out his hand for Winston to sniff. After a few seconds, Winston moved his head, allowing Sherlock to scratch him behind the ears.

Sherlock seemed delighted as he continued to pet Winston, and Will began talking about Winston to him, Stiles casually listening to him talk.

“-Found him on the road on my way home about two years ago. He seemed perfectly well behaved when I found him, and I got attached to him pretty quickly. I didn’t think I’d get any of them back, to be honest, but Peter managed to find him for me. I’m still not exactly sure how he managed it, but, well, that’s Peter, I guess.”

 

Stiles watches as John quietly walks over in their direction, Will, and Sherlock distracted by Winston enough that they don’t notice as John stops right beside Stiles.

“Well hallo, what’s going on here?” John says, watching the two of them fawning over Winston.

Stiles looks over at him and sees him wearing a chrome metal ring on his finger, holding a cup of steaming hot tea.

Stiles nods his head towards his ring. “Congratulations on your engagement, by the way,” He repeats, smiling.

John grins widely. “Thanks,” He says appreciatively, rubbing his other hand consciously alongside the ring before his grin becomes a little softer, “I guess I’ve never really brought it up, but I really do have you to thank for getting us here. I think I might have given up on him, if it wasn’t for that note from Sherlock,” He tells him, looking down as he reminisces.

“It’s a good thing that I ignored Mycroft telling me not to contact Sherlock, I suppose, but it just felt like the right thing to do,” Stiles says with a chuckle.

John too begins chuckling. “Yes, well, that does seem to be a running theme around here, but really. Thank you.” He says, before walking towards the other side of the living room.

Watching John as he walked around Sherlock, brushing his unoccupied hand affectionately against Sherlock’s shoulder, Stiles continued to smile to himself, recalling when he’d first grabbed that piece of paper all the way back then.

 

It was well over a year ago, now, that he’d watched from inside the cafe the usually stoic and detached Sherlock, sitting at a table outside of a cafe in Brazil, his eyes misty as he wrote furiously on a piece of paper.

Once he’d finished writing on the paper, Stiles had watched him sit for a few brief moments as he appeared to collect himself, before crumpling up the letter and leaving it on the table as he left.

Stiles had picked up the paper, un-scrunched it best he could, reading through the paper.

‘Dear John,
I wish I could have said to your face the things I had wanted to. I wanted to tell you why I had to leave you. I had to, to protect you. You, and Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson. You were all in danger. It was Moriarty, John, he was threatening to kill you all. I couldn’t bear the thought of you getting hurt. I had to do something to fight back against Moriarty, I had to. I knew what I needed to do to be able to do it. I faked my death. I knew what I had to do, I had Mycroft help me, but listening to speak on the phone when I was up on that roof. The look on your face. I almost gave up on it then and there, I would’ve, if I could live with what Moriarty was about to do. But I couldn’t live without you, John, I would’ve stayed for you. I almost gave up again, when I watched you there, at my funeral. I’m sorry, John. I’m so sorry.’

Reading the pain and emotion written on that paper, Stile knew what he had to do. Folding the paper up carefully, he tucked it into his pocket, before striding off to follow after Sherlock.

Despite Mycroft telling him explicitly not to, once Stiles had the chance, he delivered the piece of paper to Sherlock’s flat back in England.

 

Now though, Stiles was glad he’d ignored Mycroft’s warning. Even if Mycroft gave him a very thorough chewing out- especially since John had taken Sherlock’s letter directly to Mycroft, and given him what Mycroft called a 'talking to', but what Stiles was certain meant that John had almost beaten the hell out of Mycroft while threatening him to get him to the truth about Sherlock.

But hey, it was all worth it in the end.

 

Chapter 47: Chapter 47

Summary:

Stiles goes to the store with Isaac, before heading out with Gabriel to see how well Hannibal has been faring so far.

 

Thankfully, for Hannibal’s continued existence and safety, Will and the twins seemed to be doing okay after being surprisingly and needlessly stressed out by Hannibal behaving like an absolute bag of dicks.

Hanging out at John and Sherlock’s flat for some tea and cookies after Will’s checkup seemed to help with lowering Will’s stress too, with Will sipping from a cup of tea while watching Winston curiously walking around their flat with Sherlock ambling slowly around after him.

John had said that Will would need to be monitored in case of any distress, but figured that there were enough people around within advanced hearing range that ultimately, he’d be fine if he needed any help.

 

Once he and Will had returned home though, Stiles shoots Gabriel a text message asking how Hannibal was faring so far. Gabriel didn’t respond back straight away, so Stiles decided to go to the grocery store to restock the pantry, which was a little bit too empty for his liking.

Having Werewolves with super high metabolisms as roommates could be a bit of a chore, but Isaac volunteered to come with him to the store and push the cart around for him- a bit of a relief since it could get pretty heavy towards the end of the trip.

He also grabbed a box of rosemary and olive oil Triscuits and an almost ripe mango for Will, who had been craving random combinations off and on and had asked for them before he went to the store. Whatever. Stiles had heard from Peter at one point that Will had eaten a whole onion sliced up like an apple and dipped in peanut butter before, so not the weirdest thing he’d craved during his pregnancy.

 

When he had gotten home, Stiles notices he’d gotten a text back from Gabriel, hopping onto the counter while Isaac finished unloading the groceries from Peter’s car, which he’d graciously allowed them to borrow in order to go shopping.

‘Oh, it’s going great! Would you care to stop by and see how he’s doing? Sam and I just got back from admiring how well the venue is coming along so far ;)’

‘Sure, why not?’ He texts back to him, shrugging to himself, then breaking open the package of double stuf oreos sitting on the counter and popping one in his mouth.

Stiles was actually kind of interested to hear how it had been going for Hannibal, so why not see for himself? He was sure that Peter- and the rest of the people who cared at all about Will, honestly- would love to hear how Hannibal was getting his ass handed to him.

Isaac pops his head out eagerly from under where he was stacking canned goods in the cupboard to dig a hand into the package of cookies, grinning happily as he ducks his head back into the cupboard.

‘:D’ Gabriel texts back.

 

Blinking, Stiles finds that he was now suddenly somewhere else, stumbling to catch himself as he was no longer sitting, almost dropping the oreo that was still half shoved into his mouth. Whipping his head around, Stiles examines his new surroundings curiously, trying to see if he could spot where Gabriel was.

 

The room was dark, but from what he could tell about it, it was just on the wrong side of too lavish for him- with dark, rich-colored furniture and a wide, unlit fireplace. There was a piano in the corner, and it looked very, very, very expensive as well. There was an eerily silent nature to the quiet around him, the darkness of the room enhancing the eerie feeling he was having.

A crunching sound from behind him startles him, making him turn around to see what the noise was coming from.

Unsurprisingly, and perhaps exactly what he was expecting to find, Stiles turns around and comes face to face with Gabriel, who was chewing on a piece of what looked to be peanut brittle.

He is still wearing the cream-colored slacks, a white dress shirt, and a cream-colored vest, the sleeves of the shirt now rolled up to his elbows. The jacket, however, was nowhere to be seen, the dress shirt wrinkled, Gabriel’s shorter new hair sticking out in several different directions.

Gabriel smiles at him, waving the piece of brittle. “Heya! What’s up?” He asks.

Stiles gives another, more pointed look around the room, before asking him, “Where are we, exactly?”

“In Hannibal’s house!” He says cheerfully, adding after a few seconds, “Well, this place is more like a mansion than a house, honestly.” He says, looking around as he takes another bite of brittle.

Stiles hums. “Right. So, is there any particular reason we're here instead of anywhere else?”

Gabriel snaps his fingers at him, grinning with half a mouthful of brittle, still chewing as he talks.

“Location’s perfect for this, actually. I went with a particular favorite method of mine- have you ever watched Groundhog’s Day? The one with Bill Murray?” He asks, non sequitur, and Stiles nods his head in affirmation.

“...Yeah. Why?” Stiles asks slowly, a little puzzled with where Gabriel was going with this.

Gabriel waves his hands around. “I love that movie. I mean, the whole concept of it is just perfect. The repetitive nature of it? Being forced to live the same day over and over again?” He says exuberantly, kissing the tips of his fingers excitedly.

“It’s a little bit of a chore to figure out the parameters of the whole thing,” He explains, flapping his empty hand around dismissively, “But once you know what you want to do, it can be just as entertaining!” He says, before placing his hand on his chest.

“For instance,” Gabriel says animatedly, “I set the parameters a little wider than in Groundhog’s Day- to a few days instead of just one day. Hannibal has to fulfill what I’ve set as a ‘good ending’, or else he just starts all over again. Anyone besides Hannibal dying doesn’t reset the time loop, but unless he gets it right, he’ll just have to start the loop over again, and everyone who’s died in the loop resets too.”

“What exactly is a good ending, with this guy? It’s not exactly like his real-life choices were all that good, to begin with,” Stiles says sarcastically, huffing.

Gabriel snorts, shaking his head amusedly. “Well, that is very true! Anything is better than killing your adopted daughter, slicing open the abdomen of your pregnant mate with a knife, and leaving him to die on the basis of a false accusation, then flying off to Italy with your therapist whom you’re going to have a romantic fling with.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me about her,” Stiles groans, running a hand down his face. “Honestly, I should see if Chiyoh would be willing to hunt her down or something. I had no idea that they were together together at the time, or I would have probably done something about her myself,” He mutters darkly, before adding, “I’m sure that Chiyoh would love to find out where she scampered off to,” Stiles says, mildly disgusted.

Gabriel waves his empty hand in a beckoning gesture as he walks out towards a hallway, alternating between chewing and talking as he goes.

“Yeah, I know right? So anyway, Hannibal has to successfully not get himself killed, not get Will hurt in any capacity, and not get their daughter injured either,” He says, crunching on his brittle for a few seconds before continuing. “If he can do that, and do it while treating the two of them like he actually loves this little family he’s made for himself… I’ll think about a nice surprise for him and Will both,” He explains with a small smirk.

A loud shattering sound comes from somewhere ahead of them further down the hallway, followed by a soft, muted thudding sound, startling Stiles slightly, both of them coming to a stop in the middle of the hallway.

“Ah, that’ll be Alana Bloom,” Gabriel says nonchalantly, sighing, before turning his head to look down the hallway in the other direction. Stiles looks over Gabriel down the hallway, trying to see what he was looking at.

Will walks slowly down the mostly dark hallway towards them, dressed in slightly rumpled clothes, a standard-issue sidearm held in his slightly shaking hands as he gets closer.

His eyes are glassy-looking as he scrutinizes the dark hallway, his eyes skating right over them, Stiles watching as Will walks right through Gabriel as if he wasn’t even there.

Gabriel pops the last bit of his brittle into his mouth, chewing on it a little before he talks.

“I don’t like interfering too often in a physical sense in time loops like these. In another setting, I might make myself appear as a random person already in the loop, but for this, it’s best just not to appear in the loop at all. Hannibal is too paranoid at this point for that to really work, anyway,” Gabriel explains, before snapping his fingers and summoning a handful of redvines.

Curiously, Stiles tries to lean over Gabriel and get a look down the hall where Will had gone, but Gabriel gently takes his shoulder and turns him around, shaking his head.

“I wouldn’t look down there if I were you, it usually gets pretty messy,” He says wearily. “Hoo boy, does it get messy.” He shakes his head again, before standing still, his face blanking out for several moments. Coming to, Gabriel shakes his head irritatedly.

“Damnit. HE KILLED WILL, AGAIN. Ugh!” He yells suddenly, before angrily tearing into one of his redvine pieces as he stalks down the hall in the direction that Will came from, Stiles stumbling a little to catch up to him.

“Wait, what do you mean he killed Will?!” Stiles asks furiously, waving his hand wildly towards back down the hall.

“I mean he killed Will! Like, he’s dead!” Gabriel growls, before pushing the front door and stepping outside.

Outside, there is a woman being pulled off the ground by EMTs, a huge circle of shattered glass shards on the ground around where she had been lying. There is also a row of labeled FBI vehicles lining the street, a horde of FBI agents swarming around the building.

Gabriel groans loudly, throwing his hands up in the air irritatedly.

“This is the fourth time in a row where he’s killed Will, and the twenty-second time he’s practically recreated the same thing that happened in real life. This guy has a lot of skill, and no imagination, I swear!” He huffs, tearing into another redvine.

Stiles shakes his head disappointedly. “Is he going to figure it out at all, at this rate?”

Gabriel nods his head, then sighs. “Yeah, eventually. I have the time loop set so that as little time passes in reality as possible, while still having time pass. He’s been in here for 6 and a half months so far, technically,” He says, before pausing. “I mean, I think he’ll figure it out, eventually.”

Gabriel then shrugs. “You wanna go see the improvements I’ve made to the wedding venue so far? Sam definitely approves of what I’ve done with it so far,” He says, before grinning widely to himself in a way that seems very suggestive, Stiles shakes his head amusedly at Gabriel.

“Sure, why not?” Stiles says to him, and Gabriel grins as he snaps his fingers, the two of them disappearing from the lawn of Hannibal’s house.

 

FBI agents swarm their way into the front door of the house, a thunder of gunshots ringing out sharply into the night air.

 

Chapter 48: Chapter 48

Summary:

Stiles was quite enjoying snacking from the food at the wedding buffet, until Gabriel gets a... A rather urgent phone call.

 

Examining the options before him on the buffet table, Stiles picks up a piece of roasted potatoes and pops it in his mouth, chewing as he follows behind Gabriel through the open dining hall. There was a ton of food to choose from- something to cater to everyone’s tastes.

 

A whole slew of salads and roasted vegetables were available, since Sam was fairly health conscious and liked to eat healthily- the potatoes and roasted cauliflower had gotten Stiles personal tasting and approval- a huge selection of roasted fish and seafood items (including shrimp cocktails), a few meatier choices of finely sliced steaks and roasts, and an entire section of table dedicated to desserts that were available! There were even a few fruit tarts to satisfy Dean’s weird obsession with dessert pies.

All of those dessert choices and more were available for consumption, besides the staggeringly large tiered wedding cake that Gabriel had prepared.

There was also going to be an open bar, for those beings attending who didn’t prefer to eat actual food- or, you know, those who just had mild alcoholic tendencies. Gabriel had organized a cut-off plan, just so that none of the humans attending would get plastered enough to get alcohol poisoning trying to keep up with the drinking of the non-humans attending.

There were also a few non-alcoholic drinks available- including sparkling cider and pomegranate juice- strawberry, raspberry, and mango lemonades, and, of course, ice water.

Stiles was delighted to learn that the buffet table was actually enchanted, created to be held in stasis until the day of the wedding. It was a very complicated process, but none of the food items would rot, melt, or even cool down while still in their original dishes. This was good, because otherwise, this place would be a nightmare waiting to happen.

 

The dining hall was outside, but well-covered with an arching trellis canopy and a two-toned metal sheet roof. The underside is lighter than the top- a creamy off-white color- while the top was a dark, earthy brown color. The wooden supports to the roof were wrapped in climbing jasmine, the flowering white blossoms giving off a faint but delicate perfumy scent.

There were about two dozen circular dining tables in total, with a varying amount of seats per table. The head dining table- the one for the soon-to-be-married couple- had only two chairs. The other tables had a minimum of three seats, some having up to six chairs at a table. All of the tables- including the buffet table- were covered in draping white cloths.

The entire dining hall was lit with outdoor string lights, giving the area a delicate warm glow. Gabriel had also enchanted a slight breeze to blow through every now and again, giving the space a very real feel to it.

All in all, this place was honestly going to be perfect- Stiles was almost vibrating from excitement just thinking about it. The dining hall in combination with the area for the ceremony already looked amazing.

And, as one of Gabriel’s to-be groomsman and one of the only individuals allowed to see the venue before the wedding was to take place, Stiles was also privy to know the full list of guests being invited, as of current.

Stiles, of course, had already signed his RSVP. Every member of his household, including Will, had already RSVP’d as well. Peter had signed that both himself and Chris would be in attendance. All of the family members that were still on speaking terms with the grooms- or, you know, the ones that were still alive, and didn’t want to kill them- would be in attendance. That meaning Castiel, Dean, and Bobby Singer.

Lucifer and Mazikeen, as well as Detective Decker and her daughter, would all be coming. Aziraphale and Crowley had accepted, though their returned RSVP seemed very confused in general as to what was happening.

There was also an RSVP for several individuals that Stiles had yet to meet- someone named Adam, and the Them? Anyway, their table was set to be as far away as possible from Lucifer’s table- a point that Gabriel had stated to him on more than one occasion when walking through the dining hall.

There were at least two tables designated for Gabriel’s trickster friends, including Kali and Hermes- as well as the Norse deities of Thor and his wife Sif, the Norse Goddess of marriage oaths, Var, as well as Odin, and his wife, Frigga, whom Gabriel had all become well acquainted with while acting as Loki. As eternal deities, Gabriel had said, there was either a sustained casual friendly acquaintanceship or bitter hatred.

 

As far as the ceremony itself, Sam had offered to be the one to walk the aisle, and had roped both his brother and Singer to walk down with him, as the ‘father figures’ of the groom. Heartwarmingly, the two usually gruff and emotion-shy men had both accepted Sam’s request, both touched by the fact that Sam had offered them the position usually reserved for the actual father of the one to walk down the aisle.

Gabriel had planned an easy-access way to get to and from the venue, in case Will- or any other guest, really- felt the need to leave and still be able to return, if they wanted. They would receive a thin, cream bracelet that, when the opal bead in the center was turned several times, would be the activation for the portkey style entrance to and from the wedding venue during the event. They were actually pretty neat.

 

Walking around through a small rose garden off to one side of the dining hall, Gabriel’s phone begins ringing, Stiles sitting down on a nearby bench as Gabriel answers his phone.

“Hey, Deano, how’s it go-” Gabriel answers cheerfully, before clearly being interrupted by whatever Dean was saying to him, Gabriel falling silent to listen to him talk.

‘This place has wifi? That’s awesome.’ Stiles thinks to himself, looking at the tiered fountain in the center of the garden.

“What? Wait, wai- Dean, slow down. What happened?” Gabriel says, concerned, his chipper tone dropping in a heartbeat. Stiles looks over in his direction, giving him a questioning look. Gabriel’s face and mood from his earlier joyfulness changing to tense, cold stillness, his good mood now gone entirely.

He’s listening very carefully for a few tense, silent minutes, eyes flickering around as he listens before his face goes stone cold.

 

“Dean, I’m going to put you on speaker now, I need you to repeat that again for me- Stiles is right here, okay?” He says comfortingly, though it’s clear he’s struggling to stay calm, beckoning for Stiles to come closer. “Say that for me again,” He says, moving the phone away from his ear and putting it on speaker.

 

“-I don’t have any idea of what to do! I have no idea how they even managed to find us, but they jumped us good. They beat Castiel pretty badly before they took him. He’s gone! He’s… He’s… They took Castiel, and I don’t know where they took him! Ughhh,” Dean groans, sounding like he was heavily in pain, “Fuck, they beat the shit out of me too,” He hisses.

Stiles gives Gabriel a look, which surely looked as horrified as he felt.

“Dean, where are you right now?” Stiles asks sharply, taking a deep breath as he gathered his focus.

Dean takes a few audibly pained, slow breaths before speaking.

“Just… Just outside Sioux Falls… We were coming back from a hunt. I can’t see where I am though. It’s… It’s dark out now. I’m...I’m not feeling too good Gabe…” Dean whispers, his voice trailing off.

The only sound from the speaker that follows is the sound of Dean’s phone hitting the ground and clacking along on what sounds like gravel before a terrifying silence reaches their ears.

 

In a second, Gabriel snaps his fingers, and they change locations, Gabriel still desperately holding on to the phone to Dean as they appear at his location.

Harsh, bright light hits Stiles’ eyes, surprising him. Blinking, he adjusts to the light, looking around them, searching for any sign of Dean. They are on a long gravel road, long grass growing wildly along both sides of the road. Turning his head slightly, Stiles spots it.

Oh.

 

He stumbles towards it, tripping over himself to get closer.

 

There, in the middle of the gravel road, sits Dean’s car. She’s completely flipped over, resting on the roof, wheels in the air. One of the front tires is missing, the rim of the wheel shattered in two. Her windows are all completely shattered, glass shards scattered across the road in front of where the windshield used to rest.

The windows of the car are broken too, and there are massive scrapes along her side. One of the side mirrors is barely hanging on by a scrap of metal, and the other is completely missing, nowhere to be seen.

The car very clearly rolled, at least a minimum of two or three times, but likely even more than that, judging by how badly the car is scraped up.

 

Bile rises in his throat just looking at the state of Dean’s most cherished possession until something worse catches his eye.

Blood. And a lot of it.

There are smears of blood on the side of the car, spatters of it on the inside driver’s seat, and pools of it along the outside of the bottom of the car- or what used to be the roof of the car.

One of the smears of the blood is leading away from the car, a trail of blood dragged across the gravel road as someone was very clearly and violently dragged away from the car.

Gabriel has wandered out of Stiles view, off to the other side of the car- something has drawn his attention, but Stiles is fixed onto the trail of blood, following it a few feet down and then off the road, into the grass.

 

A dark shape draws Stiles’ eye, and it takes a second to register what the thing even was before Stiles recognizes it.

 

Dean’s phone.

Dean’s hand is lying outstretched next to it, both his hand and the phone absolutely smeared with blood. His own, too, from the looks of it.

“Gabriel! Over here!” He manages to shout, before falling over himself to get to Dean’s side, crouching down to the ground.

 

He’s a broken bloody mess, face down in the dirt, and Stiles grabs his bloody shirt to turn him over. His face is covered in scrapes, his eyes bloody and swollen shut. His breaths are so shallow, Stiles can barely feel them as he pulls Dean against him, struggling to remember the words to begin muttering the strongest healing incantation he knows.

Stiles moves his hand, healing the first few deep cuts he can find before Gabriel shoves him aside, taking over the healing.

Archangel that he is, Stiles can see that Gabriel is struggling a little to heal the wounds, his face tense in concentration as he heals Dean.

 

Stiles is unsure of how much time passes as Gabriel heals Dean’s wounds, but eventually, it’s done, Gabriel falling backward and sitting beside him on the ground, staring at Dean’s unconscious body.

After a time, Gabriel takes a deep breath and then speaks.

“I don’t know which of my brothers has done this, but they will know my wrath,” Gabriel says quietly. “I found an angelic blade, over in the grass over there, on the other side of the car, just before you found him,” Gabriel says, gently laying a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

Dean’s bloody and torn shirt repairs itself, stitching itself back together, though Gabriel seemed not to notice, continuing to speak until his voice is rumbling dangerously with Angelic strength.

“They took my brother, they nearly killed my Mate’s brother, and they were foolish enough to leave the evidence of the crimes they have committed? Oh, they are so dead! DЄẠD! DO YOU HEAR ME?! DЄẠD!!!!!” Gabriel screams to the sky, and oh, that is so it.

 

Whoever this is? They are going to die.

Slowly.
Very.
Very.

Slowly.

 

Notes:

Bit of a cliffhanger there at the end, sorry! I need to move the plot along though, so the truth of how this happened and who's behind it will have to wait, for now!

Chapter 49: Chapter 49

Summary:

While there seems to be few clues as to what or who was behind Castiel's disappearance, Stiles finally gets a lead.

Whether or not the lead proves useful remains to be seen.

 

To say that Gabriel hadn't taken Castiel’s disappearance well would be an understatement.

It had been a few weeks since anyone had heard any word from Gabriel, and Stiles was concerned- as was Sam- that something had happened to him in his searching.

Castiel was gone. Wiped off the face of the Earth, it seemed. No tracing spell he cast seemed to do anything at all- none of Castiel’s clothes or other trinkets gave Stiles any indication that Castiel was still on Earth, and Stiles only got more frustrated as the search continued.

 

Stiles had taken pictures of both sides of the Angelic blade that was left behind at the car crash and had put out the word to everyone he could, hoping that something could give them an idea of who might have been behind the attack.

Peter was searching through his various Downworld contacts to see if anyone knew anything, or had heard about anything strange going on. Chris was making his way through as many of the Hunter contacts as he could, spreading the word to be on the lookout for anything about the blade.

Magnus had taken the pictures and shared them with Alec, who was searching through every Shadowhunter archive the Institute had on Angels and Angelic blades.

He’d also put out a notice on his website requests board, asking his former and new clients alike if anyone had seen or heard of anything like the blade before, or if they had seen or heard about anything strange going on.

He’d even shared the pictures- and the story of what had happened- with Lucifer and Maze, in hopes of spreading the search as far as he could through everyone’s contacts.

And yet, despite all of his efforts, no one seemed to have any idea who the blade belonged to. Nothing had come up during anyone’s searches about the blade so far. It’s almost as if the Angel who owned the blade was absent from mortal records entirely- not impossible, but surely not helpful in their search.

 

Dean had become despondent over the weeks, void of any emotions beyond anger and a deep, bitter self-hatred. It was clear that Dean was blaming himself for what had happened, and Sam had to stop him several times from rushing off to do a hunt on his own, just so that he wouldn’t end up getting himself hurt in the process- or worse, killed.

Sam had once been in the same position that Dean himself was now in, and knew better than to let his brother get away from him during Dean’s desperate attempts to find something else to fill his mind, other than the loss of Castiel.

It had been a long, hard day, the day that the attack had happened, and Stiles was still reeling over the events in his mind.

 

 

Gabriel had teleported Stiles, Dean, and himself over to Singer’s house, only for Gabriel to then leave without a single word, leaving Stiles alone to explain what had happened to Sam and Bobby.

Dean’s Impala was sitting- now back in one complete piece- back in Singer’s driveway, casually and seemingly unconsciously restored back into one piece by Gabriel when they had traveled.

Bobby and Sam had been righteously angry and horrified, Dean still lying unconscious on the couch in the living room where Gabriel had dumped him as Stiles explained what had happened.

 

Now, Stiles was playing a waiting game, waiting for a sign of anything to happen.

It had been two and a half weeks since Castiel had gone missing.

Stiles had asked Will to stay over in the recently spare room at John and Sherlock’s flat, just so that Will would have some help if he went into labor while the search for Castiel was going on, and needed help sooner than Stiles could get back to him to help. The Lecter Family midwife, Marya, had her own flat in London thanks to Mycroft’s efforts, and would also be at hand if Will needed her, so Stiles was sure that Will would be taken care of if it came time that he’d need it.

With how close Will was to giving birth to the twins, it was best that he'd be involved as little as possible, though he’d told Stiles he had wished to be able to help, though he’d understood why John and Marya were insisting he stay with John and Sherlock, for now.

Chiyoh was also somewhere in London, though Stiles wasn’t sure exactly where. At this point, he wasn’t all that concerned about what she was doing there either.

 

On the 19th day of Castiel having gone missing, Stiles gets an alert notification on his website.

He’d checked the website a few times before, but most of the responses were more questions, not any actual leads or helpful information. This time, however, was different.

‘CeeBee asks: There’s something weird going on in this one place in Wyoming. There’s been a loooot of weird things going on. There was this couple I watch that has this road trip traveling vlog, and they just posted about it, as they were passing through the area and wanted to hear the story for themselves. This one local hiker guy swears he saw this strange blue-looking meteor as it passed through the sky and crashed into the woods. BUT, here’s the catch- he swears up and down that it looked like a person, falling from the sky. A person with WINGS. He hiked all the way out to where he saw it landed the next morning, but there was nothing there but a big rut in the ground where the impact was made in the dirt. Everyone thinks he’s nuts, including the vlogger couple, which sucks, but whatevs. Don’t know if that might be anything like what you’re looking for, but I hope that helps with something! Let me know if you find anything, yah?’

Attached was a link to the video that was mentioned about the vlogger couple, as well as a timestamp on the video, and he watches it raptly as the guy explains what he saw out in the woods.

The video was posted less than three days ago.

Something in the video seemed familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it until he realized the description of the 'meteor' was very similar to how Dean had described what had happened when he'd first met Castiel- flashes of blue light and thunderclaps in all. If it really was an Angel, it could be a serious lead for something- either finding Castiel or ending the rather long campaign that was going on to start the Apocalypse all over again.

 

After letting Lucifer know about what he suspected might’ve found, Maze ended up being the one that texted him back, saying that she’d be sending someone to help them with whatever they found. Vague as ever, but great, he could always use some more help- the more competent the help, the better.

And, judging from Dean’s previous attempts to get out and do something, Stiles figured that Dean would be pretty pissed if he wasn’t involved in what might be a potential lead on Castiel, so Stiles figured he was going to head out to grab the Winchesters before he left for Wyoming himself.

After gathering all the holy oil and daggers he might need, and after letting everyone know in the house he was leaving, and that he might’ve found a lead, Stiles heads over to Singer’s place.

 

 

It’s late afternoon, and Stiles knocks on the screen door. Looking around briefly, Stiles spots Dean’s Impala and Singer’s truck that he drove sitting in the lot, so someone was bound to be home.

“Who is it?” Singer shouts out from inside the house, in his usual gruff, growling tone of voice. “Better start talkin’ fast. I ain’t in the mood for this.” Singer warns.

“It's just me, Singer,” Stiles calls through the screen door, before swinging it open. Bobby’s back is turned to him, walking away from him and towards the living room, something rifle-like held in his hands. Stiles follows after him, looking around the living room as he enters it, dropping his bag of gear at his feet.

 

There is a considerable amount of empty beer bottles scattered throughout the living room, and the couch was looking considerably well slept on- though currently unused, the living room devoid of any other signs of Dean. Singer disappears behind a corner ahead of him, into one of his storage rooms.

 

Sam comes thumping down the stairs, smiling as he spots him. It’s a fraught and very brittle smile, but genuine nevertheless.

“Stiles,” Sam smiles warmly before pulling him into a crushing hug. “What are you doing here?” He asks, pulling back to look at him.

Up close, Stiles can see that Sam has dark bags under his eyes, and looks like he's exhausted in more ways than one.

“I found something,” He starts solemnly, before explaining, “I don’t know if it’s anything yet, but it’s more of a lead than we’ve had. Here, I had this video sent to me, and I think maybe you should watch it too.”

Stiles then hands Sam his phone after pulling up the video, Bobby coming into the room and watching the video from around Sam’s side.

Both of them watch silently until the clip about the story was over. Bobby looks up, taking a breath before asking, “What is this?” He gestures at Stiles' phone as he takes it back from Sam.

“I think it might be a lead. Even if it’s not an Angel that knows what’s happened to Castiel, there’s a very significant chance we might be able to learn more about who’s behind the Apocalypse efforts, besides the obvious names we already know.” Stiles explains.

A moment of confusion passes over Sam’s face, before a look of clarity strikes him, shaking his head profusely.

“Wait, so you’re saying that you think this Angel might give us information on where Castiel is?” He asks, waving his hands around as he speaks. “I don’t think they’d be at all forthcoming, even if we do find them. How are supposed to get them to talk to us, at all?” Sam asks, incredulous, before a dark look passes over his face. “Especially since we don’t have Gabriel to help us,” He mutters bitterly.

Stiles practically winces at that, though he manages to contain the urge.

With Gabriel gone, Dean inconsolable and back to his more asshole-ish-like state, and Castiel kidnapped and missing, Sam was probably having just as hard of a time as Dean.

“I know he’s not here, but I think we can more than handle one Angel between the three of us. Besides, I let Lucifer know what I’d found, and Mazikeen let me know that she’s sending someone to help us- we won’t be doing it just the three of us by ourselves.

“The four of us, y’mean,” Bobby says, crossing his arms with a frown. “You really think I’m gonna just let the three of you go off on your own on this? I don’t think so.”

“I hope this means you’ve finally got something for us.”

All three of them turn to look as Dean walks down the stairs, his extra bag of gear held over his shoulder.

He’s stony-faced, his lips pinched into a thin frown, and now staring directly at Stiles, waiting for a response.

“I do, yeah. You in then?” Stiles asks him, and Dean gives him one firm nod. Both Sam and Bobby don’t look thrilled at this from what Stiles can tell from their expressions from out of the corner of his eye, but neither of them protests against it, either.

“Get your gear packed then, why don’t cha? We’ve got an Angel to hunt.” Dean grunts to them, and there is a sharp, intense glint in his eye that almost gives Stiles cause to pause, but he doesn’t say a word as Sam and Bobby both walk off to gather their things.

 

Dean was right, after all. They did have an Angel to hunt.

 

Notes:

I promise the next chapter will have far more plot, and will finally get more into why Castiel was taken- and by whom!

Also, I will be finally introducing a few more characters that are rather well known in Supernatural- a new Angel and a Demon each, respectively. And, another pairing will be introduced too! Finding Castiel is the biggest plot upcoming though, but for anyone who's a big fan of Supernatural, a previously only mentioned Supernatural character will finally be making his first appearance!

Also, a cameo from another new character appeared in this chapter- I also plan to use the character more in the future! Guesses as to who they are more than welcome, but all will be revealed in the future!

Chapter 50: Chapter 50

Summary:

Making it to Wyoming, the crew meets the mysterious Demon that was sent to meet them- and get closer to finding out what, exactly, landed in the Wyoming woodside.

 

The town in Wyoming that they were headed to was a small, deeply backwood county in the middle of nowhere, and was surrounded by long, rolling farmland from one side and a thick forest broken up by rocky hillsides on the other.

Though they had driven in from the side covered in dry, grassy farmland, the stone hills covered in towering pines were clearly visible as they drove into the town, the backdrop of the western side of town as they entered.

The long, six-plus-hour drive there had been… Tense would be the simplest word to describe it.

 

Sam was still disgruntled by Gabriel’s absence and complete radio silence, on top of being extremely irritable from the way that Dean was acting.

Dean was… Well, Dean was back to being himself, honestly. The Dean that Stiles remembered from when they’d first met- the one from before Dean had met Castiel, and was still an absolutely massive douchecanoe.

Singer had ended up having to split the two brothers up in order to get them to stop arguing over who was going to be riding with who in which vehicle, demanding that Dean rides with him in his truck and that Sam rides with Stiles- which Stiles ultimately agreed with, just so that they could get started and moving along with their hunt.

 

Dean wasn’t driving his own car and had refused since the crash to step foot near his beloved car- though he still had banned Singer or Sam from driving it.

He hadn’t driven anything at all, besides borrowing one of the more run-down junk cars on Singer’s property once, Singer had mentioned off-handedly as they were getting in their separate trucks, and wasn’t that just the cherry on top of the fucked-up-ness of this situation?

 

Now, the four of them were unloading their things outside of a bed and breakfast, one of the only places with rooms for rent in the entire town.

“You ever hear back from that She-Devil about this... This contact of hers?” Bobby asks dubiously, leaning against the side of the bed of his truck. He’s dressed like any average trucker might, a decent choice for blending in, in a small town like this one was. The way he was leaning against the truck kept the sunset out of his eyes with the visor of his cap as he waited for Stiles to respond to his question.

Stiles slams the door of his cab shut and locks it as Sam walks off with his duffle bag to go put it down into their rooms with the rest of their stuff, Stiles turning to face Bobby.

“Yeah, I heard back from her, though the internet’s pretty spotty out here, so it took a while before it actually came through on my end,” Stiles says, flapping his hand while pulling his phone out of his pocket to reread Maze’s text.

“She said that ‘its a guy that owes her a big favor, so he’s agreed to come out here and help us with this, no questions asked.’” Stiles reads out loud to him, and Bobby gets a pinched look on his face.

“What, no description of this guy, or anything like that?” Bobby asks suspiciously.

Stiles shakes his head. “Nope, no description at all,” He says cheerfully, popping the p’s, before adding, “But hey, if he’s at all a stereotypical Demon, he’ll be pretty easy to spot with the whole,” waving a hand loosely in front of his face, “Dark, evil aesthetic vibe thing that they all have going on.”

Which was true, actually. Almost every Demon he’d met had preferred darker, richer tastes in clothes, and had a very obvious tone to their center core- darker, writhing auras that made it very easy to pick out a Demon from a crowd.

 

Bobby sighs, shaking his head wearily. “Not exactly what I was hoping to hear from ya. We ain’t exactly the time to go off searching for our help now just so we can do it all as a group, do we?” He says, before sighing again.

“Well, we need to go all the way through town tomorrow anyway to go talk to the hiker guide, so, we can have a look around while we’re on our way there,” Stiles suggests.

That is if the Demon didn’t seek them out on their own initiative, which was very much a possibility, especially with whatever threat that Mazikeen was likely holding over their head.

Bobby scoffs dismissively.

“I still don’t like that we don’t know anything about him. I mean, we’ve worked with demons before and all, but I don’t like not knowing what we’re getting into,” Bobby says, as he locks his own truck up, giving his cap a tug as he turns to walk around the side of his truck, staring off into the distance towards the brilliantly sunset-lit hillside that the sun was slowly sinking down behind.

Stiles follows him, leaning against the side of Bobby’s truck as he too, scans the forested hillside. Though impressive in its size, the forest before them showed little to support the daunting feeling he was presented with now. They had to search that hillside tomorrow, and it wasn't looking to be an easy job.

 

“Do you-” Bobby starts, before stopping himself, eyes still locked on the forested hills in the distance as he falls silent.

“Do I think he could really be out there?” Stiles asks, finishing his sentence, and Bobby just slowly nods.

“It just... Well,” Bobby says, tilting his head down to look at the pavement, clearly bothered by something, “It just seems like wishful thinkin’ on our part, for him to be the one waitin’ for us, out there,” Bobby says hesitantly. “I’m not sayin’ that I don’t think we won’t find him,” He says, before scoffing incredulously, “Hell, just last year, we took on a whole horde of demons, and there weren’t no more than a handful over two dozen of us there. Yet, we still managed to pull that off,” Bobby says, chuckling amusedly as he pats Stiles roughly on the shoulder before looking back towards the hills.

“If we can do that, Lord knows we could manage to find one Angel by ourselves,” Bobby says warmly with amusement, before adding more quietly, “Only, I’m afraid that we won’t find him in one piece.”

His tone suggested that Castiel would not be the only one that would be broken if that was true.

Remembering the stiff, unresponsive, soldier-like state that Castiel was in when Stiles had first met him, it would honestly be a surprise if they did find him well and whole. Something hadn't seemed right about Castiel, back then- something that Stiles had given up on worrying about when he'd abandoned Heaven to join Dean and Sam.

Now though, it was front and center in Stiles' mind, disturbing him all over again.

“We’ll do what we do best,” Stiles says strongly, before adding, “And we’ll find him.” He assures. “We’ll just have to be prepared to brace ourselves for what we find,” Stiles finishes solemnly, eyes roving over the forested hill one last time before getting up and walking in towards the rooms waiting for them, Bobby getting up and following behind him.

 

The next morning at about 7, Stiles breaks down the plan for the day while the four of them scrape down their breakfast as quickly as possible.

Setting down his coffee, Stiles clears his throat to get the attention of the other three at the table before speaking.

“So,” Stiles says energetically, slightly jittery from his third coffee of the morning, “The plan is, we need to talk to the local guy, the hiker, first.” He says, putting up fingers as he casually counted off the steps.

“Then, once we know where this crash site is, we head out there, and check it out for ourselves. If we can get the guide to take us there, that’d be even better.” Stiles says with an animated bobbing of his head.

“Oh, and if we find whoever Maze was sending to help us, that’d probably be good too.” He adds as an afterthought.

Sam is the first to speak up, asking, “Where exactly is this hiker guide guy, anyway? Do we even know?”

Stiles quirks his lips in a frown before shaking his head, “Well, no, not exactly,” He starts casually, then seeing the baffled and mildly outraged looks he was getting, quickly continued with, “but I know where the place he was at in the video we watched- I was able to get a message from Cee about it this morning- it’s this diner place down over next to the gas station, just a few blocks down the road.”

Dean frowns, before asking stiffly, “That’s all we have on this guy?”

Stiles shrugs, before nodding. “Yeah, for now.”

“And we’re depending our search on just the information from this guy and your little internet friend?” He asks incredulously.

“Hey! I don’t see how you can be complaining about my sources when you’ve done nothing so far to add to this search so far,” he snaps. “What exactly have you done to look for Castiel, huh?” He accuses sharply, then regrets it immediately as Dean’s face turns from shocked to indescribably angry.

“Whatever,” Dean growls bitterly, then he gets up from the table, storming off. “I’ll be waiting in the truck,” He yells over his shoulder, before slamming the door shut behind him, leaving the three of them sitting at the table, frozen at his outburst.

“Well shit.” Singer mutters.

Stiles had to agree with him on that, a terrible sinking feeling in his chest.

 

Despite Dean now giving him the silent treatment, the four of them end up going to the diner anyway.

“He don’t come in here very much. He’s certainly not a regular here,” The waitress said casually with a shrug, smacking quietly on a piece of gum. “Look, you gonna order somethin’, or what?”

 

The diner turning out to be a bust, the four of them were now parked outside of the small gas station lot, Singer filling up the tank on his truck as they decided what to do next, Sam standing next to him by the hood of the truck, looking at a map that they’d bought from inside the gas station.

“I figure from the description in the video about the specific hillside, here,” He says, pointing to a hillside called Kester’s Hill, “We have about a,” Calculating in his head the estimate, “About a 15-mile radius to cover, here,” He says finally, circling with his finger the forested around to the west of them.

“That’s… A lot of ground to cover on foot.” Sam says slowly.

“Yeah, but we don’t really have much choice. The growth of the trees around here are much too thick, and there’s barely room for a quad on most of the trails around here- there’s no way that either of our trucks would be able to fit any of the main trails.” He says, pointing out the color-coding of the footpaths and motorized vehicle paths that littered the map to the western side of the town, which showed a tiny proportion of vehicle-accessible trails to foot trails.

Dean was resolutely ignoring the both of them, leaning against the side of Bobby’s truck, Bobby giving them a gesturing nod towards the station store before heading inside to pay for his gas as he and Sam continued to look at the map.

 

Dean, however, did turn, as did both he and Sam as a car pulled up exactly alongside Bobby’s truck, stopping beside them.

The car was a vintage, crimson red Camaro with white stripes along the hood- which Dean was openly admiring now- the three of them watching the car as it was turned to idle.

The window rolled down, and a middle aged looking man wearing what looked like a full black three-piece suit addressed the three of them.

“Now, would any of you gentlemen happen to be a Mr. Stiles? I’m supposed to meet him here,” The guy asks in a muted Scottish accent, looking entirely unimpressed as he looks between the three of them.

Glancing at Sam, who gives him a sideways glance in return, Stiles raises his hand slowly.

“Ah, that’d be me, actually.” He says, looking at the stranger.

The aura of the man was definitely dark, though certainly not as powerful as either Maze or Lucifer’s auras. Strangely enough, the coloration was more of a bright red color, and not the darker black hues he’d seen of other Demonic auras.

“I don’t suppose Mazikeen sent you, did she?” He enquires, at which the stranger flinches almost imperceptibly.

The stranger, though looking rather pained to say so, nods his head. “Yes, that’d be me.”

“Well, nice to finally meet you then,” He says politely, before turning slightly to introduce the brothers. “This is Sam,” He points, and then gestures over at Dean, “And that’s Dean.”

Dean doesn’t say anything, but acknowledges the Demon with a nod of his head, while Sam gives a friendly, ‘hey’.

The Demon, however, remains unimpressed.

“Yes, the Winchesters. I’d heard about you two, and the little stunts you like to pull,” He says indifferently. “I was one of Lilith’s favorite servants, although I’m sure you’re aware that that’s no longer been the case,” He sighs irritatedly, before getting out of the car and closing the car door behind him.

“Crowley, at your service,” He says long-sufferingly, offering his hand out to Stiles. He pronounces it Krow-ley, not Crow-ley. Interesting.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Stiles says, shaking his offered hand back.

“Undeniably I'd have to disagree, but all the same, yes,” Crowley replies acerbically, before dropping his hands to his side, looking all the world like he would prefer to cross them over his chest, if not for the fact that it would somehow make him look undignified.

“Is Crowley a common name amongst Demons? You’re not the first Crowley I’ve met.” Stiles mentions curiously.

“Not really. There aren’t many others besides myself- most aren’t a fan of the First of the name anymore, but I happened to quite admire them. Different pronunciation too, so there’s that, I suppose.” Crowley says casually, before asking quizzically, “Wait, have you met THE Crowley then? You said I’m not the first you’ve met.”

Stiles nods his head.

“That’s right,” He confirms, before adding, “Though we haven’t spoken recently.”

Crowley has a briefly stunned look on his face before he starts to shake his head, chuckling sarcastically. “I had nearly forgotten- you willingly associate with the head Torturess and our King. I shouldn’t be so surprised that you would know them as well.”

“What’s goin’ on over here?” Bobby’s voice calls out, at which Stiles turns to see him walking over in their direction.

Crowley also turns his head to look over in Bobby’s direction, Stiles watching with some curiosity as something sparks in the Demon’s eye, a glint of… Something as he looks over at Bobby as the man stops beside him and Sam.

“Name’s Crowley. And just who might you be?” The Demon practically purrs, offering his hand out for Bobby to take.

“Robert Singer,” Bobby replies cautiously, warily taking Crowley’s offered hand to shake.

Instead of shaking his hand in return, the Demon chivalrously lifts Bobby’s hand and places a kiss on the back of it, before gently letting go of his hand.

“Delighted to meet you, Robert,” Crowley says with a lurid wink, grinning with entirely too many teeth to be comfortable.

To Stiles’ delighted amusement, Sam and Dean’s faces look absolutely horrified at what just took place before their eyes, Singer’s jaw hanging open and gaping like a fish at Crowley.

Crowley, seemingly unbothered by the scene he’d caused, turns to look at Stiles.

“I suppose this trip won’t be entirely wasted then.” He sighs pleasantly to himself, before pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket with a flourish and handing it to Stiles.

“Here, the coordinates of the crash site you’re looking for- I talked to the man who’d seen the place and got him to write it down for me,” Crowley explains as Stiles eagerly takes the scrap of paper and looks at the map to plot out their route to take them there, Crowley continuing to talk to him. “Took me a lot longer than I thought it would to track him down, but I did it. It certainly didn’t seem like a meteorite crash site, from the way he was describing it. Too human-shaped. I certainly detected some sort of Angelic presence when I arrived here in this town,” He says with a distasteful sniff.

“Although, we might want to hurry if we plan to be the ones to get there first,” Crowley adds rather off-handedly, at which Sam finally shakes off his bafflement-induced stupor and finally speaks.

“Wait, what do you mean, ‘get there first’?” He asks.

Crowley gives him an unimpressed look.

“I mean that I wasn’t the first to ask about this ‘crash site’,” He sighs, seeming entirely too irritated by Sam’s question. “And whoever it was, they cleared the man’s mind of their meeting. Not even compulsion would get him to explain who the other person was to me- which means that whoever it was, their powers are at least somewhat stronger than mine.” He says with a mildly surprised look on his face, seemingly surprised that someone’s powers were stronger than his.

Stiles looks up briefly, gesturing for Sam and Bobby to look at the map. “Look at this,” The two gather closer to look down at the map where he was pointing.

“If we go to the bottom of the trailhead, here,” He says, pointing to a parking lot area at the bottom of where the trail they would need to be on starts, “We can get pretty close. Crowley’s right though. We’d have to hurry if we want to get there ahead of this other person.”

“Oh, I doubt it’s a person. There’s a very, very slim chance that this person is a human at all.” Crowley adds cheerfully.

“Then we better get going right away,” Dean huffs, finally speaking up.

“I agree,” Crowley says, looking entirely displeased that he agreed with Dean in the first place. “I’ll be riding with Robert,” He asserts, giving Singer a look at his blatant innuendo.

“ABSOLUTELY not! No!” Dean shouts. “You have your own car, drive yourself!”

Crowley gives him a distasteful look. “And drive my car on those dirty back roads? I think not,” He says, looking appalled that Dean would even suggest such a thing.

Snapping his fingers, said car rumbles to life and pulls into the nearest open parking spot, before shutting off entirely, the keys flying out of the window and into Crowley’s open hand before it rolls itself up.

 

While Dean and Crowley bicker back and forth, Singer watching as the two argue over if Crowley would be riding in his truck or not, Stiles indicates with his hand for Sam to go get in his truck as he folds up the map, which Sam obliges with eagerly.

 

“I have no idea what just happened,” Sam says, closing the truck door behind him as he gets in the passenger seat.

Starting up the engine, Stiles shrugs, handing him the map.

“We’ve got our clue, regardless of whether we like who got it for us,” He says calmly, “Though, I think Crowley’s nice enough. For a Demon.” He admits.

Sam scoffs.

“Says you! He has to be nice to you, remember? Otherwise, your friend would hear back otherwise, and she’d probably eviscerate him for it.”

Stiles thinks about it for a few seconds, wanting to protest, but then nods his head. “Probably, yeah.”

 

He doubts that Maze had anything to do with how Crowley was acting towards Bobby, though. That seemed to be entirely Crowley.

 

Driving off towards the hills, Stiles hopes that whoever- or whatever- was waiting out there for them, that they could deal with. Anything strong enough to wipe someone’s memory well enough for a Demon to not be unable to undo the work was something not to take lightly.

He just hopes that they’d reach Castiel first.

 

Notes:

Gah, the chapters always end up getting longer than I thought! We will get to meet our mysterious figure soon, I promise!

Anyways, hope you enjoy the chapter! Don't worry, there will be more of Crowley flirting with Bobby in the next chapter- and more of Sam and Dean being unable to deal with it!

Also, thought I'd give Crowley a car more fitting with his shared namesake, so here's a picture of the car he now drives. Not exactly a Bentley, but surely just as appropriate.

http://momentcar.com/images/1970-camaro-2.jpg

Chapter 51: Chapter 51

Summary:

The gang finds a lead- of the Angelic kind, of course, and discovers the real reason behind why Castiel was kidnapped in the first place.

 

Listening to Dean whine and bitch about Crowley the entire time they were headed up to the head of the trail was one of the few times Stiles could say that he genuinely wanted to laugh because of something Dean had done.

It wasn’t Dean intentionally trying to be funny by whining either, judging by Dean’s murderous look when Stiles and Bobby had both laughed at one of Crowley’s more witty comebacks.

You make fun of someone’s height, expect to be duly insulted back. It’s basic comeback etiquette.

Crowley, to the Demon’s credit, had managed to convince Bobby to allow him to ride along in his truck- hence Dean’s complaining being even more long-winded. He had quieted down- for now. No doubt that if Dean caught any of the murmured flirtatious words that Crowley was whispering to Bobby, he’d throw another fit.

Bobby, despite being incredulous at Crowley openly flirting with him at first, had gotten over his shock and had accepted that it was happening for real. Stiles had even sworn he’d seen the older man blush at one point. If not for the smug look on Crowley’s face, he’d have thought that he was just seeing things, but now Stiles wasn’t so sure that was the case.

 

Now though, they were walking their way towards the area where the crash had happened, the midday late July sun brutally beating down on them as they hiked the last of the path. There was only another half a mile or so before they would need to go off the trail and walk through the trees to reach the spot that the hiker guide had described.

With the width of the trail that they were currently on, it was only wide enough for two people to walk side-by-side on.

Sam was walking next to him at the front of the trail path, Crowley was currently walking next to Bobby right behind them, and Dean was walking behind all of them, sulking silently at the fact that Crowley had managed to pair up with Singer instead of him.

 

Of the five of them, Crowley seemed the least bothered by the heat- which was good, as he hadn’t bothered to change out of his suit for their hike.

Demons and their need to always look immaculate, man. Well, at least Lucifer had a reputation to maintain. With Crowley, he wasn’t aware of the Demon’s status- and thus the reputation he had to maintain.

With the way he acted, he at least considered himself to be important, anyway.

Still, he was probably used to it being hotter in certain parts of Hell- this heat was probably nothing in comparison.

However, despite not being affected by the heat, Crowley was complaining about getting his suit dirty- not exactly the best sign, since they hadn’t even gone off the trail yet. They had to hike for at least a good half an hour to get where they were going.

 

Another fifteen minutes go by, and the five of them stop briefly to take a break and drink some water, sitting down on a pile of rocks to the side of the path.

Stiles had thought Crowley wouldn’t have pretended to be thirsty if it wasn’t for the fact he insisted on sharing a drink from Bobby’s water, just to get a reaction from Dean.

To be fair, the outraged and shocked faces that both Dean and Sam had made were both hilarious.

 

“Are we there yet? How much farther?” Dean asks with an irritated huff, tearing his eyes away from Crowley to ask him.

Taking a sip from his water, Stiles simply shrugs.

“Can’t be too far now,” He says to Dean. “If the coordinates of the trail are exactly correct, we have another fifteen, maybe twenty minutes further up this path,” He gestures at the path in the direction that they need to keep going, adding, “And then we’ll have maybe another ten or so off to the left of the path.”

“We’ll need ta watch out for poison oak when we go off the path. The gas station clerk said it was pretty common ‘round these parts,” Bobby warns them, lightly winded as he spoke. As often as Bobby did go out on hunts, it was more often he just had the Winchesters check it out for him, and thus was not physically prepared to hike a mountain in the middle of one of the hotter days of the year.

To be fair, neither was Stiles.

“Yeah, yeah, we get it. Watch out for the poisonous plants that will try and kill us, you got it,” Dean says dismissively, though he does give the plants he was sitting next to a cursory sideways glance as he does. He wipes the sweat from his forehead with his arm, sighing.

Groaning tiredly, Sam gets back up to his feet, beckoning at the rest of them for them to get up.

“C’mon. We’re not getting anywhere just sitting here,” He says exhaustedly, standing towering over their sitting forms, his shadow falling over Stiles and blocking the glare of the sun.

“Just keep standing there, I forgot to grab a pair of sunglasses before I left,” Stiles says with a shit-eating grin, raising his head and craning his neck, staring up at Sam.

Sam just gives him a bone-tired, unimpressed look and glares back at him, crossing his arms silently.

Waving his hand, Stiles gestures for Sam to back up, climbing to his feet and turning to head towards the path.

“Well, isn’t he quite the ray of sunshine?” Crowley says softly under his breath to Bobby as they stand up, which Sam ignores gracefully as he walks away, Stiles right beside him.

 

After another minute or so walking, Stiles catches snippets of… Something, just out of his range of hearing, turning and shushing Dean, who was once again complaining loudly.

Dean’s outraged face was quickly silenced, Sam, giving him a sharp look in order to get his brother to shut up.

“Quiet! Don’t you hear that?” Stiles stage whispers furiously to Dean, before falling silent, straining his ears to try and hear the noise again.

Staring incredulously at him, Dean does fall quiet thankfully, and now all five of them are curiously stopped on the path, trying to listen for whatever it was Stiles had heard.

After a few seconds, Stiles hears it again.

It sounds like a faint whisper, though he can’t make out the words. Slowly, he takes a few more steps ahead down the path, at which the sound grows louder, though just barely.

He waves his hand, beckoning the others to follow quietly, all of them silent as they move further ahead down the path.

Finally, Stiles is able to make distinct words out of the whispers, the sound continuing to grow louder.

 

“...Every time. Why? Every single time, this happens to me.”

The voice sounds male, with a distinctive accent to boot. The tone of the voice is petulant and whiny and only gets clearer as they get closer to the origin of where the voice is coming from. It was coming through a swath of trees off to the side of the trail.

 

The two Winchester men and Bobby all draw guns- each with a different kind of bullet. Blessed silver to kill other Supernatural creatures in a handgun held by Bobby, holy water-soaked rock salt pellets to kill Demons in a shotgun held by Dean, and a revolver and bullets designed by Gabriel that could kill any Angel below the rank of Archangel easily, held by Sam.

Stiles draws his own daggers, and so too does Crowley- a sharp, jagged-edged blade that looked like it could easily tear through flesh.

Crowley whistles softly, saying, "Here girl," and a shuddering feeling rumbles the ground around them, the faint sound of an animal somewhere close by, circling around them slowly.

A Hellhound. Oh good.

Between the five of them, Stiles takes the lead with the brothers behind him, Crowley attempting to get Singer to stay behind him as they get closer.

 

“...But noooooo, just had to wander off, didn’t you? Couldn’t stay put and make it easy on me, could you?”

 

Reaching the clearing where the voice was coming from, the five of them step from behind the trees and out into the open.

Right in front of them, stands an Angel, staring in shock at the five of them, his mouth open but with no sound coming out.

The Angel has blond hair and facial hair, sharp blue eyes, and is wearing a slightly rumpled suit and dress shirt, dirt flecks clearly visible on his black suit jacket, as well as on his slacks.

 

The Angel’s eyes nervously dart between the five of them, before sliding towards something off to the side of them in the treeline, growing more and more nervous as he looks at them.

He flicks out an Angel blade into his own open palm, gripping it tightly as he holds it out in front of himself, waving it warningly.

“Who are you?” Dean asks furiously as he points his gun in the Angel’s direction, breaking the silence that had fallen briefly between them.

“He’s an Angel,” Crowley growls sharply in a warning, at which Sam points his own gun sharply at the stranger before them.

A hair-raising growl comes from the side of them, the Hellhound finally making itself seen. The Hellhound looks like an oversized Doberman pinscher with a richly-designed spiked collar, slowly prowling out of the trees to stand next to Crowley, growling darkly at the Angel, its red eyes glowing ominously.

Spotting Sam’s gun, the Angel’s face goes white as a sheet as he realizes what it is.

“Now now, no need to be rash,” The Angel placates, fear rising visibly as he looks at the weapon pointed directly at him, “I’ve done nothing wrong here.”

“Drop your blade. Now.” Dean spits furiously, and the Angel complies quickly, eyes still fixed on Sam's gun.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” Sam asks, the Angel lowering his hands to his sides before Sam points his gun at the Angel in emphasis of his question, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Hands where I can see them. Behind your head.” Sam says roughly.

 

Raising his hands to clasp around the back of his head, the Angel’s throat clicks audibly as he swallows.

“Name’s Balthazar, and I’m here because I collect things I happen to want,” The Angel- Balthazar- explains anxiously, staring nervously as the Hellhound begins circling his leg, sniffing at his pants and shoes.

Balthazar continues, “I’d heard about an Angel that crashed here on Earth recently. You never know what a banished Angel might be carrying- or what they might know.” He explains calmly, even smirking a little to himself as he talks.

Well, he seemed like an unbearable douche. Great.

“Why are you here on Earth? You sure as Hell don’t sound like any of those dickbags with wings,” Dean asks, frowning sharply at Balthazar.

“I am not!” The Angel exclaims furiously. “I left that crowd long ago- too boring for my tastes. It’s much more exciting down here.” He says, sniffing distastefully.

“Wait, wait, wait. Hold up. What do you mean carrying? Do ya mean like, weapons?” Bobby asks, at which the Angel scoffs.

“I thought it would be rather obvious,” Balthazar says. At the blank looks he receives, he sighs.

“Alright! Yes, carrying weapons. I’m rather proud of the collection I’ve amassed over the years, I must say. Certainly, those of the Angelic variety are certainly more worth the effort it takes to get them.” He pontificates, rolling his eyes as he explains to them his trade. “Knowledge of such weapons or artifacts can be just as useful as the actual artifacts themselves, in some cases.”

“Wait, why is your name familiar?” Stiles asks, frowning thoughtfully as he thinks. “I swear I’ve heard your name before…”

“I doubt it is. I’m not all that well known in scripture. I’m quite sure that you’re mistaken-” Balthazar says haughtily, before Stiles has an epiphany, snapping his fingers.

“I got it! Yeah,” He says, nodding his head slowly. “Yeah. You were in the same garrison as Castiel in Heaven, weren’t you?” He asks.

Balthazar’s mouth snaps shut, staring at Stiles with wide eyes.

“How do you know that name?” Balthazar whispers furiously. “How do you-”

“He’s a friend of ours, and frankly, I’m surprised you hadn’t recognized him from his mark on Dean,” Stiles cuts him off, frowning at the Angel’s accusatory tone.

At his statement, the Angel turns his head and looks closer between the others, sliding from him, Bobby, and Crowley, before his eyes land on Dean and Sam, looking between the two of them more closely.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” He laughs, surprised. “Little Cassie found the one for him. And in a human, no less.”

“Oh yeah? You got a problem with that?” Dean snarls, at which Balthazar shakes his head calmly.

“Oh, no, not at all. I’m just merely surprised. I never took him as the type to be interested in a mortal. He was always a good little soldier you see, always keeping his head down.” Balthazar says, a sneer curling on his lip as he talks. “He very rarely spoke up, or rather, spoke his mind at all.”

“Although,” Balthazar adds, “I’ve heard that reconditioning is fairly common among the lower ranks nowadays, so I suppose I’m rather surprised that he got that far to begin with.”

Stiles feels disgust bubbling up inside himself, making its way to his facial expressions. Evidently, Balthazar sees his expression, because he nods his head.

“Oh yes, ‘reconditioning’,” He says sarcastically. “Got to keep the troops compliant somehow, yes? What was the bitch’s name in charge of that department? Naomi? I think that’s her name. Whatever her name, she’s loud, annoying, and she. Never. Shuts. Up! I’ve tuned her out at this point, but still,” He says, rolling his eyes.

“‘Hear her’? What do you mean?” Dean asks Balthazar, who just gives Dean a blank stare.

“Did Castiel not ever explain it to you?” He asks, somewhat incredulous, before shaking his head, speaking before Dean has the chance to speak again.

“All Angels can hear what’s going on in Heaven, at any time. Messages relayed on harmonious frequencies between all Angels can be heard by any other Angel, and sometimes, if you listen just right, you can tune in on a conversation as it's happening back and forth.” He says slowly, looking at Dean with clear disdain at having to explain something he considered to be fairly obvious.

“Sometimes, there are even Heaven-wide broadcasts. It gets easier to listen in on it when there are so many signals relaying the same idea over and over again over a short period of time. There was quite the chatter a few weeks ago, actually. Before that, it was at least a year or two ago that there was a massive broadcast of these signals. This latest signal was what brought me here.”

“So, like tuning into a radio station?” Sam asks curiously, and Balthazar shrugs.

“Essentially, yes. Though, harmonious Angel speak would shatter the eardrums and shake the brain matter of any normal human until their eyes bled out of their skull.”

“Wait. A few weeks ago? What exactly was it did you hear?” Dean asks sharply, Balthazar giving him a weird look at how intensely that Dean was now looking at him.

Stiles too perks up at that statement. Sam, too, was also waiting to hear what Balthazar would say.

That time would line up with when Castiel was first taken.

“Well, most recently, an Angel was banished for sympathetic actions- they almost allowed a traitor that they had just captured to escape by looking the other way, and they were cast from Heaven when they refused to show remorse for nearly allowing the traitor to escape Heaven.”

“Do you know who this Angel was? Or who this traitor was?” Stiles asks.

“I’m not familiar with the newly fallen Angel- I didn’t recognize the name at all. Dorianel was the name, I believe,” Balthazar says, and indeed, the name was not familiar at all to Stiles, at least.

“As for the traitor, I don’t know who they are- only the crimes that they’ve committed,” Balthazar admits.

“They are indeed a traitor. Abandoning their post and mission- though I have no idea what their mission was, or where they were posted. Ordinarily, that would be enough to get a very harsh punishment indeed, but their crimes are indeed, greater than just that.”

Lowering his voice, Balthazar repeats himself softly with a sorrowful look on his face. “Indeed, their crimes are far greater than that. For bringing new life into the world is a joyful experience for many mortals- but not amongst those of the Heavenly Host.”

“There were once many Nephilim that roamed Heaven and Earth alike, but no more exist. They were wiped completely by the Angels, for their powers could be very great indeed. The offspring of an Angel and a human could be very powerful, yes, but also very volatile. After all, a safe blend of Angelic grace and human soul could very often not be achieved, and one would attempt to consume the other, killing the Nephilim in the process. Their powers often were too great, and consumed the Nephilim whole- along with a good portion of their surroundings in a blast I'd compare to the devastation of a nuclear explosion.”

“Therefore, it was considered safer in the eyes of the Host that all Nephilim be killed off. To be safe, all of the parents of said Nephilim were also killed. Now, it’s happening again, and the Host is... Well, not pleased.” Balthazar laughs, though it seems very artificial and brittle.

Which means… Oh.

OH.

Sam seems to understand the implications as well, his face going pale.

“We need to find this, Dorianel. Now.” Sam says tersely, at which Balthazar gives him a strange look.

“...There’s something you know that you're not telling me, isn’t there?” Balthazar asks curiously, looking at Sam.

“He’s not the only one. Care to elaborate there, Moose?” Crowley asks, staring expectantly at Sam. However, Sam is now vacantly staring off into the distance, likely trying to comprehend the information that they’d just discovered.

Dean, too, is watching Sam expectantly, clearly unsure of what the obvious conclusion in front of them was.

“It’s Castiel. The traitor? It’s Castiel.” Stiles says, dumbfounded and still trying to comprehend the situation himself.

So that means... Oh, God.

 

Dean was going to be a father.

Castiel’s life- and apparently the life of their child- were in imminent danger.

There was a very good possibility that Castiel would be killed…

 

If he wasn’t already dead.

 

He had been fortunate enough and had gotten Dorianel’s help, with which he had tried to escape, only for both him and Dorianel to be caught.

Judging from how bloody it got for both Dean and Castiel when he was kidnapped all those weeks ago, they wouldn’t be kind to him after his attempt to escape. They cast an Angel from Heaven simply for trying to help Castiel.

 

He could only imagine how badly Castiel was being dealt with for his effort to escape.

 

Balthazar looks just as stunned as Sam, looking very much like he was going to be sick. “Oh.”

 

At that moment, Dean appropriately decided that it was time for him to pass out, nearly falling over into his brother- who fortunately enough, was able to catch him before he fell face-first onto the ground, lowering his weapon from pointing at Balthazar to prevent his brother from crashing into him or the ground.

Bobby goes over to Sam’s other side, checking on Dean.

Stiles stays exactly where he was before, keeping an eye firmly on Balthazar. However, Balthazar was just standing there in the same spot, almost as shocked as Dean- it was probably only his Angelic constitution that kept him from also passing out from shock.

 

Whistling sharply, Crowley’s Hellhound stands at attention, walking over to the Demon.

Patting the top of the Hound’s head, the Demon speaks to the Hound with some reverence.

“Juliet, find Dorianel. Go,” He commands, and the Hound howls with enough force to shake a glass window before tearing off like a blur into the woods.

Now, Stiles only had more questions, and not nearly enough answers to be satisfied.

 

Stiles only hoped that Dorianel’s intentions had been from the right place, with their heart in the right place.

 

They desperately needed a lead in finding Castiel.

 

 

Notes:

Oh no! Poor Castiel- he just can't seem to catch a break.

Also, surprise! Dean's gonna be a dad!

Hopefully, with both Crowley and Balthazar's help, the Winchesters and Stiles can finally get to Castiel and rescue the poor Angel.

Chapter 52: Chapter 52

Summary:

An update.

Hey all! Just wanted to give an update- I won't be having an official chapter post this week. I'm a little stuck with getting the story right, and I'm feeling a little under the weather. I will do my best to get the next chapter up as soon as I can, but yeah.

I will be deleting this page and replace it with the official update when I have it, until then, this will remain. Thank you!

Notes:

Thank you for all the love and support so far, it's honestly been my drive in continuing to work on this.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of To Walk the Long Road Home