Storytime with Rachel F Hundred

There was a ghost at the end of her bed.

Eileen Holt blinked the sleep out of her eyes and stared at the silver-limed transparent figure.

The ghost peered around her room with chagrined astonishment on his face.  “This is not how I thought the spell was going to work,” he muttered under his breath.   

The black cat at the end of the end batted at something beside the ghost and a second ghost shimmied into view; a dog – no, a wolf.

The wolf growled at the cat. The cat simply looked backed unimpressed. Her faithful friend was difficult to intimidate.

Eileen sighed and pushed back her quilted coverlet. “I’m going to need tea.”

The ghost, a young man barely into adulthood by her measure, startled at her words, his eyes meeting hers and widening.  “You can see me?!”

“I can see you,” Eileen confirmed.  “Now if you could turn your head, young man.”

He blushed and spun around.  “Derek!”

The wolf harrumphed but followed the boy’s prompt and turned to face the wall.

Eileen pulled on her dressing gown over the full-length nightie she wore and tied the belt tightly.  She glanced in the mirror to check her braid of pure white hair was still neat and tidy.  She shoved her feet into the cosy woollen slippers she had by the bed and led the way out of her bedroom and through the ancient small cottage to the kitchen.

The old Aga took up one whole wall.  She fed the fire, enjoying the scent of oak and ash, and put a kettle onto boil.  The cat twined his way around her legs asking for food.  She obliged him, changing out his water at the same time.

“Here we are, Merlin,” she murmured.

“You named your cat, Merlin?” The ghost spluttered.

The kettle whistled. 

Eileen made her tea and sat down at the small wooden table off to the side beside the door to the back garden.  She gestured at the hovering ghost.  “You should sit down.”

“Is this right?” The ghost blurted out, gesturing at the calendar she had hanging on the wall on a hook.

Eileen peered at the month since she did have a tendency to forget for a few days to flip the page on a new month.  “Yes.”

“It’s September 2004?”

“Yes,” Eileen said slowly, not understanding why the young man was confused.

He rubbed a hand furiously through his hair.  “When we did the spell, it was January 2020.”

Eileen blinked.  She picked up her cup of tea, drained it and repoured from the pot.  “I think you should sit down and tell me everything.”

He fidgeted as though considering it.  The wolf, Derek, nudged him with its snout.  The young man slid into the open seat next to her and the wolf plonked down in a sitting position by the side of the chair.  “I can’t believe you can see me!”

Eileen shrugged.  Seeing spirits was the least of her abilities.  “You mentioned a spell?”

“You know about magic?” he asked abruptly.

“Eileen Holt,” she introduced herself briskly, “I’m a Wood Witch.”

He nodded slowly.  “Stiles Stilinski.”  He gestured at the wolf beside him.  “This is Derek Hale.”

Hale.

That was a rather renowned line of werewolves.  She wasn’t surprised when his eyes flashed red.

“You tried a spell?” Eileen tried again to ascertain what had happened.

Stiles brushed a hand through his hair and nodded.  “I found it in this old book Deaton had.  We were trying to save the world.”

“Why don’t you begin from the beginning?” Eileen suggested, frustrated at the half-answer.

Stiles and his wolf exchanged a long look.  There was a waggle of eyebrows on either side and the wolf huffed, slumping to lie on the floor and burying its head in its paws.

Stiles sighed and nodded, fingers drumming silently on the wooden table.  “It’s a long story.”

“Then you’d better begin or we’ll be here all day,” Eileen said dryly.

Three pots of tea and a round of toast and marmalade later, the story was told. Not quite all day but certainly the morning was gone.

Eileen set aside her empty cup with a thud.  “Right,” she said, taking a breath as she stared down at the pages of notes she’d written when it had become clear taking notes was going to be a requirement. “Well, it’s obvious why you ended up here and now.”

Stiles frowned at her. “Yes,” he drawled, “obvious.”

Eileen rolled her eyes at him. “What was the root cause of the end of the world?”

“The corruption of the Nemeton,” Stiles answered immediately.

“From the taint of the chaos demon,” Eileen tapped her notes. “Ideally, the Last Stand Temporal Unwind spell would have taken you back to the moment that kitsune decided to imprison the demon she’d raised using the Nemeton, but you didn’t account for a few things when you cast the spell.”

“Lydia checked my research and…”

“And you both got the wrong answer,” Eileen said. “Temporal magic isn’t easy,” she admitted.  “It’s dangerous and requires a lot of power for a reason. Outside of the Fae Queen, only the Emrys was known to use it without issue.”

“You mean Merlin?” asked Stiles, his brown eyes lively with a curiosity even death couldn’t contain.

“Exactly,” Eileen said. “Clearly you had the power to travel back using the sacrifice of your own immature and untrained Spark and a willing Alpha wolf, but you didn’t consider telling magic who you would displace and you left the parameters vaguely ‘to fix things in time to save the world.’”

Stiles grimaced. “So, we ended up here because…”

“Because magic knows the way to save the world is to save the Nemeton,” Eileen said, “and I am a Wood Witch. I know how to cleanse and restore the Nemeton.” It was the most significant of her gifts to the matter at hand.

“And Derek and I are disembodied ghosts because I didn’t tell magic to stick us into our own bodies or to co-opt someone else’s?”

“That’s right,” Eileen said, not unsympathetically.

Stiles sighed. “Probably that’s a good thing. I mean, I’m like ten years old.” He glanced down. “Derek’s fifteen, and I really, really wouldn’t want to be in some other dude’s body.” He mock shuddered. He ghost-tapped his hand on the table. “Will we be like this forever?”

“I suspect that you’ll be around until we fix things,” Eileen said matter-of-factly. She tilted her head and peered at him with sharp blue eyes. “We can look at putting you into your younger bodies if you wish?”

Stiles darted a look at the wolf who shook its head. “No,” he said quietly. “I think that…no. That would erase them, right? That’s not really fair on them.”

Eileen nodded briskly, inwardly pleased at the young Spark’s decision. She would have certainly refused had the answer been different. 

“Why now?” asked Stiles. “Why did the magic not send us back sooner? Why not send us back before my Mom…”

Eileen grimaced. “Your Spark likely came into being with her death, Stiles. Magic recognises the limits of your power.”

Stiles swallowed hard. 

“You and Derek make yourselves at home,” Eileen said. “I have arrangements to make.”

“Arrangements?” asked Stiles, perking up.

Eileen nodded. “I’m not going to be able to cure this Nemeton from Wales.” She pushed back from the table. “I must travel to Beacon Hills.”

There was a note of wonder in her voice. 

She had never left the shores of her beloved Cymru since becoming Eileen. But magic had sent her this task and she would not fail to answer magic’s call.

o-O-o

Eileen settled into the seat as the private airplane she’d hired levelled out. She sent a quick blessing to Ariel, the Sprite of the Air, beseeching her for her help. She ordered a gin and tonic from the stewardess and took a large sip when it arrived. 

Stiles whistled. “This is nice.”  His glow-y gaze caught hers. “Nobody’s mentioned your cat yet.  Did you put some kind of Notice-Me-Not spell on him?”

Eileen shrugged. “Something like that. Just like no-one will think it odd that I sit here ostensibly talking with myself.” She turned to the wolf lying beside the table. “I think you should assume your human form, Mister Hale. I have some questions about your pack which I’ll need the answers to before we land.”

The ghostly wolf shivered and the form blurred briefly into smoke before transforming into a handsome young man with a dark beard and haunted eyes.

Stiles shuffled up the sofa and patted it. “At least you can sit on the furniture now, dude.”

“Don’t call me dude,” Derek sighed.

Given the lack of remonstration in his tone and the way Stiles smirked at him, Eileen figured the exchange was something of an inside joke between the two of them.

Derek sat down beside Stiles, close enough to give away that his wolf considered Stiles pack to anyone who knew enough to look for it.

Eileen hummed.

“What do you want to know?” asked Derek brusquely.

“At this time, your younger self is ensnared by the hunter Kate Argent, correct?” Eileen asked bluntly.

Derek flinched, almost imperceptibly, but Eileen was watching him closely. “Yes,” he growled.

Stiles pressed into his side in comfort, Eileen noted. She ignored the glowering look the Spark shot her.

“Your Alpha is not concerned about your relationship?” pressed Eileen.

“I hid the relationship from my mother,” Derek said. He ducked his head. “She was angry with me about…about Paige.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Stiles said quietly.

“I killed her,” Derek replied without looking at Stiles. “I ended her life.”

“It was a mercy she asked for and you should never have been put into that position!” Stiles argued.

“I was the one who…”

“You were a child who wanted his girlfriend to love him,” Eileen said crisply. “You talked with your uncle about the possibility of making that happen. You didn’t set the poor girl up to be bitten by an Alpha nor did anyone know that the bite wouldn’t take. The vast majority of human bodies accept the bite; she was just one of the unlucky few.”

Stiles sent her a grateful look.

Derek seemed unconvinced and she knew her words about Paige would never matter to him so huge was the guilt he carried about the incident.

“So, Derek’s Mom’s pissed about Paige, he’s keeping his new relationship under wraps…” Stiles pointed at her. “Why the questions?” 

“I will need to inform Alpha Hale of my intent to enter her territory and see to the Nemeton,” Eileen said. “I want a clear view of exactly what the situation is at this time before we land.”

Derek sighed. “Right now, I’m grateful for the attention an older beautiful woman is paying me and completely oblivious to her true nature or name.” He cleared his throat. “My mother is ignoring me and I am avoiding her, but she is also dealing with the fallout of the meeting Deucalion had with Gerard Argent on our territory.”

“Deucalion is blind and has already likely killed his pack and started building the Alpha pack,” Stiles said bluntly. “That will need to be dealt with if we’re really changing events.”

Eileen hummed. The end of the world came about because of the corruption of magic from the Nemeton, an ancient source of magical power. If she cleansed it, magic herself would start to even the scales.

“Oh my God!” Stiles blurted out, hands clutching at his hair. He turned to Derek with wide, frantic eyes. “Malia!”

Eileen raised her eyebrows. “What about Malia?”

“She’s a new coyote right now,” Stiles said. “We need to get her out of the wild and back to her Dad.”

“My Mom can help with that,” Derek suggested. “Malia’s going to need to submit to an Alpha.”

“Right,” Stiles’ gaze snapped back to Eileen’s filled with hope.

Eileen sighed. “I will raise both the matter of Deucalion and Malia Tate with Alpha Hale.”  She looked back at Derek, ignoring Stiles’ hum of satisfaction. “What else do I need to know about this time?”

Derek shrugged. “It’s September, she’ll be busy organising for the gathering. We did it every January. It was a bigger event than Christmas for the pack.” 

“I see,” Eileen murmured. She did see. She saw a neglectful Alpha who had made many mistakes and who would not be best pleased with the home truths that Eileen had to tell her.  She repressed the urge to sigh and focused on Stiles. “And you, Stiles. Your father is Sheriff?”

“Yes,” Stiles said and fell quiet.

“The Sheriff and Stiles have just lost Stiles’ mother,” Derek stepped in smoothly, drawing Eileen’s attention. “It was well known in the town that the Sheriff was struggling with her death.”

Stiles squirmed under Eileen’s questioning look. “He drank a little too much the year after she died,” he finally admitted. He gestured towards her. “But he sobered up and he’s – he was a good Dad.”

Eileen noted how it was Derek’s turn to press himself subtly against Stiles, providing him with comfort.

It seemed, she considered, that she had quite the job to do. A neglectful Alpha, a grieving Sheriff…and someone who should have been protecting the Nemeton long before it became a problem.

She cleared her throat to regain the ghosts’ attention. They’d turned towards one another and had to turn back to her. She waited until they were looking back at her.

“Tell me about the druid,” she ordered. “Tell me about Alan Deaton.”

o-O-o

Eileen waited by the rental car, taking in the strong lines of the Hale family homestead.  It was a solid house, sturdy and old. Not as old as her ancient cottage in Wales but it had good bones. She imagined it gutted from fire and frowned.

There had been a lack of protective runes around the whole area. For the birthplace of a Nemeton, for the territory of a pack, it all seemed very lacklustre. She wondered if the laziness had pre-dated the corruption of the Nemeton or whether it had already been rife, whether it had provided an opportunity for the kitsune to bury her mistake and create chaos in her wake.

Merlin sat patiently by her feet. He understood the need for stillness despite the chill in the air. She was glad of her ancient Barbour jacket, the layers of woolly jumper and flannel shirt teamed with corduroy trousers she wore.

Eileen was pleased that the spirits of Stiles and Derek had decided to scout the town rather than come with her to the meeting with Talia Hale. Stiles didn’t have the patience for it, and Derek did not need the additional trauma.

The door opened and a slim woman in her late forties stepped out. She had that tone of hair which fell somewhere between blonde and brown, piercing green eyes and a mobile mouth. A man stepped out behind her; tall and dark with eyebrows which gave away his relation to his son. He reminded her of Gregory Peck.

Eileen waited as Talia Hale stepped off the porch and moved to stand a few paces away from her.

The Alpha sniffed and tilted her head. “What are you?”

“Well met, Alpha Hale,” Eileen stated formally, “I am a Wood Witch. I’m here to heal the Nemeton.”

Talia Hale breathed in sharply. “The Nemeton is beyond healing.”

Eileen snorted. “The Nemeton is corrupted and will remain so while it imprisons the chaos demon trapped in its roots.”

Hale frowned. “I have it on good authority that cutting the tree down would resolve the corruption. It’s planned for the first week of the new year.”

Eileen lifted an eyebrow. “Druids are learned men, but they are still men. Your druid gave you the best knowledge he had, but he had no knowledge of the demon so how could he tell you what he didn’t know?”

Hale mirrored her eyebrow lifting and raised her chin challengingly. “And how do you know?”

Eileen sighed. “That’s not a tale I’ll tell without an invitation inside.”

“Then you have it, Wood Witch,” Hale said. “I’m Talia Hale, my husband Juan Carlo Sanchez.”

“You may call me Eileen,” Eileen answered, allowing none of her relief to show on her face. “My familiar, Merlin.”

Talia glanced down at the cat and hummed. When she raised her head, her bemusement was written all over her face. “Be welcome inside.”

Inside was warm and cosy.

Eileen gave up her jacket to Juan and followed Talia through to a study. Bookshelves lined three of the walls and a picture window with a wonderful view of the forest behind took up the last.  Talia waved her into a small seating area in front of the fireplace, eschewing the overflowing desk and its bulky computer.

Juan returned with a tray of coffee and cookies. 

Eileen rather wished for tea but nodded at the unspoken question of whether she wanted a cup.  She accepted the bitter brew, liberally dousing it with the proffered cream and sugar.      

“You requested an invitation to tell your story, so please,” Talia said, settling back with her own cup of coffee, “talk.”

Eileen sipped her drink and set it aside. “Some years from now the Nemeton will have corrupted magic so badly, it will bring about an apocalypse. A young magical Spark and the remaining werewolf bound to the pack of the territory will sacrifice themselves to reach back in time to fix the issue.” She huffed. “They really had no idea what they were doing and ended up as disembodied spirits in my bedroom yesterday.”

Talia simply looked back at her incredulous.

“I appreciate your disbelief,” Eileen said dryly.  “I’m not sure I would believe it if it was me in your place.”

“Who is the wolf?” Juan asked quietly.

“Your son, Derek,” Eileen replied.

Talia controlled her face well, but Eileen saw the flinch clearly enough. 

“Months ago, you held a meeting of Alphas,” Eileen said briskly, deciding to move them on. “An Alpha named Deucalion convinced many to meet with a Hunter family, the Argents.  You agreed the parlay could happen on your territory but failed to provide security as is usual for these things, washing your hands of it as a bad idea – which it was. Gerard Argent blinded Deucalion and used the meeting to kill many of the wolves there.”

It was Juan who flinched not Talia.

“You lost a cousin,” Eileen stated, remembering Derek’s narrative of the events.

“My cousin, Elena,” Juan confirmed, grief colouring his voice.

Talia looked away briefly, staring into her coffee.

Eileen hummed. “Around this time, Derek was dating his first girlfriend, Paige. Peter convinced Derek that she should be made a wolf or she would leave him when she knew the truth. Derek approached you, but you sent him away.”

“I didn’t think he was serious,” noted Talia, regretfully.

“Peter told Derek he would arrange something, but Derek changed his mind and went to stop it, only to arrive too late,” Eileen said matter-of-factly. “Ennis Barol had already bitten her on Peter’s request. I suspect Peter offered her up as a potential replacement for Barol’s loss of a beta during the debacle with Argent. I am sure you’ve been inundated with requests for reparations since the event.”

Talia glared at her.

“Paige rejected the bite and begged Derek to end her pain,” Eileen continued. “A heartbroken Derek followed her request.”

Talia shifted, frowning. “That’s not…”

“Not the story you were told?” Eileen looked back at her with interest. “What were you told?  I assume you questioned your son.”

Talia exchanged a look with Juan before turning back to Eileen. “Peter said Derek had gotten out of control and killed her. Peter took care of the body to protect him.”

“You never asked Derek?” questioned Eileen, surprised.

“I asked him if it was true that he had killed her and he agreed. He was distraught, and I could see he clearly regretted it so I didn’t press further,” Talia said, pinching her brow. “I should have known there was more to it. I’ve warned Peter enough that if did anything more to cause trouble, I’d make him an omega and kick him out of the pack.”

“We will see to Peter, but we have amends to make to our son, cariño,” Juan said softly. “Our whole family has been cold to Derek, punishing him for a perceived monstrous transgression instead of comforting him for committing a terrible act of mercy.”

“Following my lead,” Talia said bitterly.

“Unfortunately, all the events I have spoken about have drawn the attention of the hunters to your pack,” Eileen said.     

Talia frowned.  “Argent left town.”

Eileen shook her head. “Argent believes you’ve lost control of your territory; you allowed the Alphas to meet with him but provided no protection; you allowed the deaths of his men and the wolves lost there. Neither the Spark nor your son were sure of whether he knew the truth of Paige’s death, but the Argents aren’t stupid; they know a girl was attacked by a wolf and died; they know your son’s wolf has eyes of blue.”

Talia’s lips thinned as she inwardly acknowledged Eileen’s points.

“Moreover,” Eileen continued, “his daughter is currently seducing a very isolated Derek, comforting him and pretending to be nothing more than a swimming coach who has fallen in love with her much younger student.”

Talia went white.

Juan snarled, surging to his feet.

“She will use him as a way to learn about your pack, learn about your family,” Eileen continued, ignoring the dramatics. “In January next year, when your family gathers as usual, she will enact the sentence her father has already decreed and kill as many of the Hale pack as she can by setting the house on fire and trapping everyone in with mountain ash.”

Juan paced away, angrily. 

“Derek survives,” Talia noted.

“I think she keeps him alive to torment him,” Eileen sighed. “The Spark believes the same. The others survived by sheer luck.”

“Who else?” Juan demanded, whirling around to face her from his position by the window.

“Cora survives,” Eileen said, “she manages to escape and makes her way to your former pack.  She believes she is the last.” She cleared her throat. “Your daughter Laura also survives and becomes Alpha, but she rips out the remaining bonds and runs with Derek to hide in New York. Your brother Peter survives but is badly injured; he spends the next six years trapped in a painfilled coma, abandoned to his hell.”

Talia breathed out and got up, shoving her coffee onto a side table.  She walked over to her husband and placed a hand on his shoulder. “We can stop this.”

“You have quite a mess to clear up,” Eileen said brusquely. And none of it will matter if the Nemeton is allowed to continue as corrupted as it is.”

“I don’t understand,” Talia said.

“The Nemeton imprisons a chaos demon, but while the demon cannot get free of the Nemeton itself, it is capable over time of corrupting the protective magic of the Nemeton turning it into an agent of chaos,” Eileen explained. “The chaos of your Alpha meeting, the debacle with Deucalion and Argent, the death of Paige…I believe stems from the influence of chaos on the magic of the land. It has made some neglectful, some ignorant at the right time, gives power to people like Kate Argent and weakens those with good intent. It will only get worse from the tales I’ve been told.”

“The apocalypse,” Talia stated.

Eileen nodded.

Talia looked at her husband.

Juan took Talia’s hand in his. “Our Derek has travelled from the future and sent this witch to help save us. How can we refuse?”

Talia nodded slowly. “How can we help?”

o-O-o

The Sheriff was drunk.

Eileen tutted at Noah Stilinski when he answered the door dishevelled and blinking into the sunlight like a vampire. She pushed him back into the house and Juan, who had accompanied her, bullied him into a shower. She made her way into the kitchen, assessing the state of the house as she went.

It wasn’t awful.

Things were tidy enough, normal enough to fool most bystanders. 

The Sheriff’s staff were clearly covering for their boss in his time of grief. They’d cheerfully informed Eileen that he was on a personal day when they’d turned up at his office. She’d simply made excuses and left.

There were dirty dishes in the sink from a child’s meagre breakfast and empty bottles of booze on the dining room table with a sticky glass that stunk of whiskey. She set Juan to cleaning up and focused on a hangover tonic and organising some food.

“It’s not his fault.”

Eileen didn’t bother to look at the spirit of Stiles Stilinski as she pulled together the tonic for his father to drink. She wasn’t surprised he’d turned up when she was confronting his father.

“He needs a wake-up call, Stiles,” Eileen stated firmly. She turned to pin him with a sharp look, ignoring Juan’s startled expression as he walked back through the back door. “It will be easier on you if you go back to your scouting and leave me to do it.”

Stiles fidgeted for a long moment before he nodded slowly and faded away.

“Was my son with him?” Juan demanded.

Eileen shook her head.        

Stilinski entered the kitchen with a frown. He’d dressed himself in civilian wear – jeans and a button-down shirt which looked like it was favourite. He looked tired and hungover, but she could tell he was beginning to regain his senses. His gaze was keen as he squarely met hers, reminding her of his son.

“Here,” Eileen poured the tonic into a glass from the blender and handed it to him. “It’ll make your head feel better and cure you of your craving for alcohol to numb your grief.”

Stilinski regarded the green sludge in the glass with suspicion and she could feel his fearful hesitation as though it was an actual physical manifestation. 

“She’s on the up, Sheriff,” Juan confirmed, drawing Stilinski’s attention.

“And I have things I need to talk with you about and you have a crippling headache and a queasy stomach,” Eileen said sternly. “You’re going to need all your wits about you. This involves your son.”

Stilinski’s brow creased in confusion. “Mieczysław? What does this have to do with my son?”

“Drink it and we’ll talk,” Eileen insisted. She could tell he was gearing up for an argument. She raised her open palm in front of him and a ball of magical light coalesced above it. “Drink it and I will explain this.”

Stilinski shook away his wide-eyed shock, grimaced and drank it. He thumped the glass onto the kitchen counter. “Who are you again?”

“My name is Eileen,” she answered and pointed at the kitchen table. “Sit, I’ve also made some breakfast.”

“I would do as she says,” Juan offered, with a smile. “She has quite the tale to tell.”

Stilinski sat, his brow lowered. He glared at the sight of the eggs and toast she put in front of him.

“Eat and while you do, I’ll talk,” Eileen promised. 

Juan sat beside Stilinski and accepted a mug of coffee.

She took the seat opposite him. She’d brewed a pot of tea, pleased to see it in the cupboards.  She hummed with pleasure as she took a sip and enjoyed the taste before she set the cup back into its saucer.

“I’m a witch and your son has magic,” Eileen said bluntly. 

Stilinski stopped eating to blink at her in shock. “What?!” He dropped his utensils and turned angrily to Juan intent on saying something…

Juan simply flashed his gold eyes at him. “My family and I are werewolves. I can transform my features if that would convince you.”

Stilinski stared at him but shook his head. “Actually that explains a lot.” He frowned. “The death of that girl and those men at a warehouse earlier this year…”

“Paige Krasikeva died from being unwillingly bitten by an Alpha from an out-of-town pack,” Juan explained crisply. “The men were hunters who attacked the pack at a peace meeting. My Alpha had told them not to believe the hunters, but there was hope and hope is a hard thing to deny.”

Stilinski went back to eating his eggs. He glanced back at Eileen. “You’re a witch and you think Stiles is some kind of wizard like Harry Potter?”

“He’s what’s known as a Spark,” Eileen said. “They are among the most powerful of magic users when trained. Merlin was a Spark. It was why they named him the Emrys; it means Light.”

Stilinski swallowed and reached for the coffee she’d poured for him. “You’re telling me Stiles is the next coming of Merlin?”

“Stiles is entirely himself,” Eileen said firmly.

Stilinski snorted, an amused agreement flitting over his stern face. “That I believe.” His smile dropped. “Is…is the magic why my wife thought he was a demon?”

Eileen tried to keep the pity off her face knowing Stilinski would not appreciate it. “The very young and the mentally instable are able to sense magic much more easily since they don’t have access to the logic we develop as adults which tells us our eyes have seen something impossible, and therefore it is impossible, and we cannot have seen what we did.”

The Sheriff grimaced.

“But I don’t believe your ill wife sensed Stiles’ magic as much she did the demon which resides beneath the tree,” Eileen sighed. “The reason for my telling you this is because years from now the corruption of magic the demon causes will be catastrophic enough that your untrained son will attempt a time travel spell to correct events.”

The rest of the tale she laid out in very much the same manner with which she’d told at the Hales. Somewhere in the middle, just after he finished his meal and drank his first coffee, Stilinski suggested she call him Noah.

Finally, Eileen fell silent and poured herself another cup of tea. 

Noah looked at Juan. “You believe this.”

Juan nodded. “The story has details only a few know.” He sighed. “Unfortunately, I can see already the threads of our demise laid out clearly. If it was not for Miss Eileen’s arrival, I believe we would have blindly walked into the trap the Argents have laid out for us.”

“And without the stabilising force of the pack, chaos reigns and the demon wins in the end,” Noah said. He looked at her. “You have a plan?”

“Yes,” Eileen said. “We will cleanse the Nemeton and send the chaos demon back to the void from which it was summoned.”

“And my part?” Noah asked.

“There are more things already in motion,” Eileen said crisply. “They will need your help to be fixed.”

“My son is the prey of a woman years older than he; she’s using him as a means to kill us!” Juan pounded the table with a fist. “She must be stopped.”

Eileen hummed. “A legitimate investigation prompted by a concerned parent confiding in the Sheriff would resolve that problem, and I’m sure once you start digging into Kate Argent, finding her involvement in other atrocities won’t be difficult.”

“And my wife will need your help establishing a cover story and reconciling our niece with her adopted father,” Juan added.

Eileen had explained Malia’s existence in her retelling, so Noah nodded in understanding.

“As awful as it is, I’m assuming we can wait on the Malia situation until we’ve dealt with the serial killer?” Noah asked dryly.

“My wife can retrieve her from the wild and we can keep her at the house until we have a story organised,” Juan agreed.

“Well, if we’re going to get this show on the road, I need my uniform,” Noah said dryly. “I’ll head up and change.” He got to his feet without any further ceremony and headed up.

Eileen patted Juan’s forearm. She started to clear up and almost shrieked in shock as Stiles appeared abruptly right in front of her.

“Stiles!” She yelped. Her hand flew to steady her racing heart as Derek phased in beside Stiles, looking distinctly unimpressed at Stiles.

“Sorry!” Stiles waved his arms wildly. “Uh, is there any chance mini-me can see ghosts?”

Eileen’s mouth formed an ‘o’ shape as she realised there was every chance a nascent Spark would be able to spot his own ghost. “Ah, bugger. Yes, your mini-me probably can see you.”

Stiles’ absently slapped Derek’s arm in a backhand flail. “I told you!”

Derek rolled his dark eyes. “I told you it was a stupid idea to go and check on you!”

“OK,” Stiles conceded, “so it wasn’t like my best idea, but how cool is that?! I mean, I think I totally freaked me out but still I’m not sad that someone else can see us other than Eileen!” He turned back to Eileen. “No offence, Eileen.”

“Some taken,” Eileen said dryly.

Juan cleared his throat noisily and she turned to find him staring at her wide-eyed. Not surprising, Eileen told herself briskly; she was talking to an empty space as far as Juan knew.

The footsteps on the stairs forewarned of the Sheriff’s arrival. Given he had just gone up, she wasn’t entirely surprised he wasn’t fully dressed in uniform. Instead, he wore his uniform pants and a white undershirt, his eyes frantically searching the room.

“Did you say Stiles?!” He demanded.

Eileen held up her hand. “He’s here.”

“With my son?” asked Juan, getting to his feet. His eyes flashed gold.

“Mieczysław Stilinski!” Noah snapped out. “You show yourself to me right now!”

Eileen was about to protest that magic did not work that way when Stiles suddenly lurched forward as though yanked by an unknown force.

“Woah!” Stiles lifted his hand and gaped as it became solid and real.

Merlin pawed at the ground where Stiles stood.

Eileen raised her eyebrows. “Of course!” She turned back to Noah. “Say his name again! Two more times!”

“Mieczysław Stilinski!” Noah repeated urgently. “Mieczysław Stilinski!”

Stiles stumbled out of the air in front of Eileen and crashed into a dining chair. “Oh my God!”

“Mieczysław?” Noah stared at his adult son with open-mouthed wonder.

Eileen smiled as Stiles drank in the sight of his father.

“Hi Dad!” Stiles gave a wave. “I, uh, kind of go by Stiles now?”

Noah gave a huff of laughter as he stepped up and hugged his son.

Stiles closed his eyes and leaned into his father.

In the ether, panic skittered across Derek’s face and he shifted into his wolf form abruptly.

Eileen turned to Juan. “Name your son, Juan. Three times.”

Juan cleared his throat. “Derek Sanchez Hale!”

The ghostly form of Derek’s eyes flashed red as his father called for him, a low growl in his throat.

Stiles shifted, turning back to him. “Come on already, dude!”

“Derek Sanchez Hale!” Juan called again. “Derek Sanchez Hale!”

The black wolf materialised with a loud growl, hackles rising. Derek’s eyes flashed red again.

“Derek!” Juan stared at his son. “Look at you!” He went to his knees as he reached out to touch his son with wonder. “Full shift! Just like your mother!”

Derek transformed, kneeling in front of his father, bare-chested and dressed only in jeans. “Dad?”

Juan tugged Derek forward into a tight hug. “Oh my boy! Can you ever forgive us?”

Derek crumpled into his father. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”

Stiles ushered his father and Eileen into the den to give the Hales some privacy. He turned to Eileen. “So, we’re real now? Like really real?”

“A name is a powerful thing in magic,” Eileen said. “It seems your miscast spell was simply waiting for someone to call you into being.”

“Right,” Stiles said, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked sheepishly at his father. “Hi.”

“I’m so proud of you, Mieczysław,” Noah said, clasping Stiles’ shoulder.

Stiles’ amber eyes filled with tears which he violently swiped away. “Sorry, it’s just…this was kind of a last resort thing, and now you’re here and I’m here and I don’t even know how we’re going to explain all this!”

“We can revise our plan to explain your presence,” Juan said as he walked in with Derek.

Eileen noticed as Stiles headed over to check on Derek, as Derek’s eyes swept over Stiles making sure he was OK. When she turned back to Noah she found him looking at the pair with knowing eyes.

She smiled and turned back. They were never going to get to the tree if they did not hustle. “Let’s get to it then. We have a lot to do.”

o-O-o

“Cryptic druid at ten o’clock,” muttered Stiles. He had taken up a position on the far side of the clearing to observe Eileen’s cleansing of the Nemeton. She had refused his offer to help further, not wanting to directly expose him again to the demon who had once possessed him.

Derek growled. He was back in his wolf form sat by Stiles’ side.

Eileen hummed but kept her attention on the protective circle she was casting around the Nemeton, her familiar followed in her footsteps like a silent shadow. A cold wind skittered through the wood and Eileen was grateful for her practical outfit of jeans, sweater and thick winter jacket.

The Nemeton had been so desperately relieved to see her that it had taken all of Eileen’s willpower not to give in and simply act as she once had when she had been young and a very different being. But one did not simply act where a chaos demon was concerned; that was what they wanted, impulse and instinct rather than logic and rational thinking.

“You there!” Alan Deaton hurried into the Nemeton clearing. “Stop what you are doing!”

Eileen ignored him and continued casting. She pushed her magic into the ground, felt Merlin add their magic, and the circle flared to life with a visible golden swirl.

Deaton ran straight into the swooshing magic and rebounded, pushed back more than a few steps. He gaped at the sight of the golden hoop which barricaded the main part of the clearing with the Nemeton in the centre. He took a breath and gathered himself.

“Talia said you’re a Wood Witch,” Deaton said accusingly, “but if you were, you wouldn’t have the magical strength for such a casting!”

Eileen looked out of the magical circle towards the druid. “Are you here to interfere Alan Michael Deaton?”

Deaton flinched as she intoned his full name. “The Nemeton cannot be cleansed.”

“Not by you or any other druid,” Eileen confirmed. “It has spent years being corrupted by a chaos demon.” She glanced down at Merlin who was glaring at Deaton. “If you wouldn’t mind, dear?”

Merlin stamped a paw on the ground.

A jar appeared floating in mid-air within the circle. Another stamp of Merlin’s paw had the jar disappearing and for a second a fly buzzed before it writhed under the pull of Merlin’s magic and transformed into a humanoid shape clothed in an old Japanese warrior outfit with a painted mask covering its face.

“He who was once called Amatsu-Mikaboshi,” Eileen called out, “we are here to return you to your domain on the spiritual plane.”

The figure tilted its head.

I am owed.

“She who called you is long gone from this place,” Eileen said firmly. “Your deal was broken. It was with her, not with this town, not with these people.”

I am owed.

“This is not a negotiation,” Eileen stated tersely. “You are done here.”

I am owed.

Eileen sighed. She allowed her eyes to change back to their natural Fae and smiled sharply at it. “Do you really want to tangle with me?”

The demon stilled. Even your kind do not have the power to send me back. I am a God.

“I don’t have the power,” Eileen agreed, “but the Nemeton does and I speak her language.” With that, she threw out a magical link to the tree who accepted it with glee.

The rush of power was so familiar and she had missed it for so long. She closed her eyes for a long moment and breathed in the scent of the bark and the green of the leaves and…when she opened her eyes, she lifted her hands and every leaf in the clearing rose with them.

Send me back then.

There was a sulky note to the words which Eileen generously decided to ignore. She raised her hand and sketched a series of runes in the air.

The figure tried to move but Merlin’s magic kept it trapped in place even as he loaned her even more power to assist. Sending a demon back was no easy task.

She brought her hand down sharply.

There was a loud clap like thunder and lightning arrowed down from the sky, striking the chaos demon and sending it back to its own realm. She walked confidently across the empty space to the Nemeton and laid her hands against the trunk.

“Be healed, my sister,” Eileen whispered. She returned the power the tree had loaned to her and sent a powerful rush of healing magic along with it. Above her, the branches shook in gratitude.

Merlin butted his head against her leg, wound his furry body through her stance as though reminding her, as if she needed reminding of their pact.

She had one job left to do. She took a breath, wrestling the Other within her back into dormancy. It was not the time to return to the trees.

Eileen turned back to face the druid.

Deaton straightened as she dismissed the circle and walked towards him. “You are not a Wood Witch.”

“I am,” Eileen said evenly, “but that’s not all I am.” She took a breath. “You are banished from this place, Alan Michael Deaton.”

Deaton flinched. “You have no right…”

Eileen smiled sharply. “Do not test me. Your Alpha has already dismissed you as Emissary to her pack and you have no further business in Beacon Hills. I would suggest you and your sister return to your home in Boston and reflect on what is the true path of a druid. Perhaps if you find the answer, there may still be redemption for you both.”

Deaton pressed his lips together. “I have done nothing.”

“Exactly,” said Eileen dryly. “You have done nothing. You failed to investigate the corruption thoroughly and failed to heal the land. You badly advised your Alpha and blamed others when things went awry. You embraced your indifference and called it balance. Your inaction would have eventually led to the destruction of the pack here and a rot that would ruin the world.”

She could see the truth of her words strike him because he visibly paled. He suddenly lost the bravado which had carried him into the clearing.

“You have until midnight tomorrow to leave this territory,” Eileen continued sternly.

Deaton acquiesced with a sharp nod. He strode away.

Stiles whistled when the druid was far enough not to hear. His bright amber eyes met hers without fear. “Not just a Wood Witch,” he commented. He looked down at her side where Merlin sat washing his face with his paw. “Is he…are you…”

“Names have power,” Eileen reminded him, cutting in firmly but gently. “Let us not give our secrets to the wind, Stiles.”

He grinned at her, cocking his fingers like guns. “Gotcha.”

Derek somehow looked even more indulgently amused at Stiles’ antics in his wolf form than he did as a human.

The two time-travellers started walking back down the trail leading out of the wood. Eileen turned back to the Nemeton and looked around at the whispering trees wistfully. One day Nimue, the Wood Fae would return to the forests of her home and be whole.

One day.

Merlin meowed, drawing her attention. He was already half-way to Stiles and Derek. She breathed in the scent of the forest, breathed out, and followed them.

o-O-o

“I can’t thank you enough,” Talia said, pulling her jacket closer around her as they watched the older Derek and Stiles say goodbye to the rest of the Hales and the Sheriff. “Without you…”

“I’m certain Derek and Stiles would still have found a way without me,” Eileen commented. “They sacrificed enormously to save the world.” She shifted her stance battling the urge to shiver in the cold air.

“Is it wrong for me to wish they’d stay here?” mused Talia out loud.

“You love them,” Eileen said, “of course you want them to stay.”

Stiles had accepted her offer of training, and she hadn’t been at all surprised when Derek had decided to join him in travelling back to Wales. She knew the wolf still found it difficult to be around his family since his siblings had no idea of his real identity and thought he was a distant cousin from their father’s old pack.

Across the clearing, as though he had heard her thoughts, Derek stepped away from the gaggle of siblings to hug his father. Stiles was crouched in front of his younger self, chattering away. Similarly to Derek, Stiles had taken up an identity as an older distant cousin, and the younger Stiles seemed delighted at the addition to his family. After losing his mother, the young boy was thrilled to make another familial connection, especially one who seemingly had stepped in and helped their father find his way out of the worst of his grief.  

Stiles stood up and hugged the Sheriff tightly.

Derek made his way over to where Eileen and Talia stood.

Talia immediately opened her arms and drew her son into a farewell hug of her own. “I’m so very proud of you.”

Derek ducked his head into her neck, scenting his mother for a long moment and drawing comfort. “I love you, Mom.”

“Be well and remember to call!” Talia said, releasing him, stroking her hand through his mop of black hair one more time.  

“I’ll remind him, Talia,” Stiles said, bounding up, the Sheriff following in his wake at a slower pace.

The younger Stiles was being dragged by Cora into a game the siblings were playing.

“We should get going,” Derek said.

Stiles nodded at him. He turned back to his father one last time. “We’ll call when we get there, promise.”

“Just be good for Eileen, and try to stay out of trouble,” Noah said with a smile which softened his words.

“Why don’t you boys head into the car?” Eileen suggested. “I’ll just be a moment.”

They nodded and walked away, walking too closely together for simple friendship and camaraderie. She was looking forward to them realising that they were both head over heels in love with each other.

“Don’t let them get married without us,” Talia murmured under her breath, careful to keep her voice low so Derek couldn’t hear.

Noah snorted.

Eileen grinned back at them. “Your boys are exceptional young men but wise to their feelings they are not.”

They chuckled.

She shook her amusement away to focus. “The land is healing, but you must stay vigilant. The corruption will take time to ease.”

Talia and Noah exchanged a brief look.

“We will,” Talia said turning back to her, “and hopefully with the Argents and whatever Deucalion was attempting dealt with, that will be easier.”

Eileen offered her hand to shake and was not unduly surprised when both swept her up into hugs.

Americans.

She said a final goodbye and made for the car.

It was time to return home and begin her training of Stiles. Her life would be very different. But after centuries spent waiting for something, a little different was no bad thing.

fin.

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