Magic's Call by Dreaming of Blue Skies
Stiles search of knowledge gets him into trouble, and Derek is forced to acknowledge the truth.
Note: I have not written fan fiction in a VERY long time and this is my very first Teen Wolf fanfic.
Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf!
"Derek, it's about Stiles." There was a pause, and Derek could hear Scott's panicked breathing. "It's bad, really bad. Deaton says it has to be you. Please, Derek. Please!"
Derek had turned his phone off while he'd been in the county municipal building. It had been four years since he'd come back to Beacon Hills. On the tenth anniversary of the fire, he'd decided to get the permits to have the old house demolished. The years hadn't been kind to the structure and parts of it had already collapsed. Stupid teenagers were always daring each other to go into the "haunted" Hale house. One of these days a kid was going to go inside and get hit by a falling beam or go through the floor.
He frowned when he saw a message waiting for him when he turned his phone back on. After high school, the pack had scattered. He supposed that's what he got for turning a bunch of teenagers. They went off to college; each with promises to come back, but he knew that they probably wouldn't. Only Scott had stuck around. He'd never been great at school, and he'd barely managed to make it into the local community college.
Scott had been planning a trip to visit Stiles. He'd been worried about his best friend. Derek hadn't taken it seriously; Stiles was pretty good at coming through unscathed. In all the years of him running with the pack, he'd never been seriously injured. Physically, anyway. The years of lying to his dad had driven a wedge between them. Stiles was still adamant about protecting his father from the supernatural goings on in Beacon Hills. The Sheriff, on the other hand, couldn't stand the lying and seemingly reckless (not to mention law breaking) activities that his son had constantly engaged in. Rather than fight about it, they grew distant. By the time Stiles had left for college, they barely spoke to each other. Stiles had considered it a small price to pay to keep his dad safe.
The boy had gone off to the state university and hadn't looked back. He spoke frequently to Scott, and would sometimes send Derek the occasional funny email, but he never came home. It was only a ninety minute drive, but it felt like an endless distance. Scott grew concerned when Stiles started calling less and being secretive. He hadn't heard from him at all in over a month, but Mrs. McCall refused to let him visit until after the spring semester. She kept telling him that Stiles was probably swamped with finals or had finally found a girlfriend. Scott kept insisting that something was wrong, and after hearing his message, Derek realized that Scott had probably been feeling something through his pack bond.
When he tried calling Scott back, he was directed straight to voice mail. Hoping that he wasn't wasn't about to waste the next several hours and a bunch of gas, he decided to make the trip. He made the ninety minute drive in just over an hour. When he pulled up to the address he had for Stile's apartment, the hair on his arms stood up. Magic. Strong magic.
A few students were loading cars, getting ready to head home for the summer. Derek paused and checked for threats, but all he could pick up was that prickly, heavy sense of energy that raised his hackles. Locking the car, he searched for the right apartment. Between the scent of Stiles lingering in the air and the oppressive trail of magic, he found the apartment. Inside, he could hear two heartbeats: one was strong and healthy, the other was weak and stuttering. As Derek reached the door, it was yanked open. "Derek, thank god. You have to help him. Deaton said..."
Derek tuned out Scott's frantic words and tunnel visioned on Stile's pale form, laying inside a chalked circle on his floor. Symbols written along the inside. Derek felt his control start to slip and his eyes started to glow red. Scott's words ground to a stop and he eyed the Alpha warily. "Derek, don't wolf out, man." He peered out and looked around. "Come inside before someone sees you!" Derek shook his head to clear it and got himself back under control. When he stepped through the door, he felt a wave of magic run through him with the subtlety of a freight train. He staggered for a second. Scott looked confused. "What was that? That didn't happen when I came in."
"Magic," Derek growled. He approached Stiles. "Scott, were you able to cross the circle?"
"No. I tried but it bounced me back. I called Deaton because he knows about this stuff. He said that it sounded like a personal protection circle. Only somebody close to Stiles could cross it, somebody that Stiles felt safe with. Somebody who he felt would protect him no matter what." Scott hung his head, "I'm his best friend. I should have been able to help him, but I can't." The young man looked up at Derek. "Deaton says that you can cross it. He says that it has to be you."
The Alpha only contemplated this for a brief moment before his need to get to Stiles drove him forward. As he hit the edge of the chalk line, he felt a rush of warmth cross his skin and then the circle opened for him. He dropped to his knees next to Stiles and touched the young man's gaunt face. The moment his hand touched that waxen skin, he felt as if a current had begun to flow from him into Stiles. Derek experienced a brief sense of disorientation and then he felt Stiles, almost as if he were pack.
It was akin to that night when Mrs. Argent had tried to poison Scott. When the teen had howled, Derek had felt Scott's breathing faltering and his body shutting down. In that moment, he knew where Scott was, and he knew that he had to get to him. In the same way, he now knew that Stiles was clinging to life by the barest of threads. He could not only physically see the bones in Stiles' face sharply contrast to the hollowed cheeks, but he could also feel the heavy drag of exhaustion and malnourishment that was taking its toll on the young man's system. He could also feel the energy flowing out of him trickle into Stiles and begin to make him just the tiniest bit stronger.
"Scott, call Deaton. I need to talk to him."
Scott shook his head. "The phones aren't working inside the apartment. If you want to talk to him, you'll have to go outside."
"I'm not leaving Stiles. Call Deaton. Ask him if I can safely remove Stiles from the circle, and about the barrier on the door. See if he can come help us with this." Derek waited and listened to the conversation outside. After he heard Deaton explain how to break the circle, he picked Stiles up carefully. One scuff of his boot over a certain symbol, and the circle came down. He listened to Deaton's voice through Scott's tinny sounding phone, and settled onto the couch with Stiles to wait.