Chapter Text
If Stiles ever made it back to his own time, he would never be telling Derek what he’d done. Of course, if all the pieces fell into place, he’d never have to speak of it again. As it was, he shouldn’t have even been able to perform the ritual. It was a good thing that Stiles lived to exceed expectations- especially magical ones.
“Only someone pure of heart who has good intentions can complete this ritual,” Deaton had warned him. They both ignored Peter Hale’s snickering in the background. (Deaton was the only one who was willing to harbor Peter. Everyone else distrusted him too badly.)
“That can’t be me,” Stiles had sighed. Ever since the Nogitsune, Stiles could feel the darkness inside of him.
“What do you have to lose?” Peter had asked.
And that was the root of the problem. When Stiles had started training with Deaton to control his spark, Scott had turned his back on him. They hadn’t spoken in months. And with Scott had gone the rest of the pack. It stung, because he’d thought that they were all genuinely friends. As it turned out, they all had reasons to leave him behind.
Kira took great pleasure in telling him that she only put up with him for Scott’s sake. She claimed that he’d put all of them in danger too many times. She would never forgive him for becoming the Nogitsune.
Malia was still angry about being dumped. Stiles had thought it had been a mutual separation, but it turned out she was genuinely angry. She’d told Kira that she felt hurt and used.
It was Lydia’s rejection that hurt the most, though it wasn’t because he was in love with her. That ship had sailed long ago. She was jealous of his spark. She’d always thought that they were evenly matched in knowledge, and she enjoyed having an ability when he didn’t. Now that he did have one, she wanted nothing to do with him.
The only ones who had stuck by him were the Hales. Peter started showing up at his training sessions, often volunteering to assist when Stiles needed someone to practice on. He usually stayed quiet in the background unless he was needed, offering silent support. Stiles was surprised to find that he appreciated it.
Derek often lurked outside of Stiles’ house during the night. He never came inside, and he’d barely speak when Stiles would go out to greet him or keep him company. It took Stiles two weeks to realize that Derek was guarding him, and by then, it was too awkward to bring it up.
(“He left Scott’s pack when you were kicked out,” Peter had explained one day. “He’s claimed us as his pack, and now he’s going to be more protective of you until he knows you’re okay.”)
Knowing that Derek cared enough to follow him out of a (semi) stable pack, he went to Deaton that same day and requested to learn protective magic. He’d be damned if he didn’t find a way to make sure that Derek and Peter were just as safe as they were keeping him. Deaton had only smiled in that mysterious way he was so fond of, letting Stiles know that he was just as predictable as usual.
“I wondered how long it would be before you’d want to learn this. I have just the thing,” Deaton had told him.
Stiles spent a solid month learning about protective runes and how to interlock them for specific types of protection or wards. He learned which runes were for which kinds of danger, and even a few offensive ones that would attack whoever was targeting the protected person. He even learned how to attach the runes to specific people, to better protect them. The last thing Deaton showed him was how to activate them.
“These would have come in handy back when Kate-“ he cut himself off, watching Peter’s reaction in the corner of his eyes. Peter remained silent, but his eyes were flashing.
“I had considered that, but it’s far too dangerous,” Deaton commented absently.
“I’m sorry, what? For a second it sounded like you were suggesting time travel,” Stiles said immediately. Even Peter looked marginally interested.
“I may have,” Deaton agreed.
“That’s impossible,” Peter cut in. “Even if someone could go back, changing the past in such a large way is far too risky.”
“Yeah, but could you imagine how it would be if it worked?” Stiles shot back.
“Sometimes the benefits are worth the risks. What is it worth to you?” Deaton asked. The question was directed at Peter, but Stiles couldn’t stop thinking about it.
That’s how he found himself at the Nemeton three months later, ready to start a ritual that would either send him back in time, or… He refused to consider the alternative. Peter had pointed it out enough times already. He’d also given him an entire family history in case it actually worked. Stiles was as prepared as he could possibly be.
He took his position in front of the Nemeton carefully. He’d already etched the runes into the stump, and all of his candles were in place. All he needed to do was light the candles and activate the runes.
“Please don’t kill me,” he said softly as he lit the candles. This was it; the moment of truth. He took a deep breath and activated the runes.