It's snow not my fault!

Turning, Ice, De-aged, and Seasons

Derek should've known better.

Correction, Stiles should've known better, but Derek should've known better that Stiles wouldn't know better.

They all should've known better.

They should've known better than to leave a bored Stiles with hundred year old mystic books and a best friend that doubles as a guinea pig, who replies, 'Sure man. If you think so.' to things. Stiles should've known better than to try a spell unsupervised. Scott should've known better than to sit still while Stiles chanted around him. Derek should've known a ten minute run for food was too long to leave them in his loft.

And Stiles should also damn sure know not to stand there melting on his hardwood floors.

If he could go back to a moment in particular, it wouldn't be when he left them. It wouldn't be when he left out the mystical texts. It wouldn't even be when he dropped his keys in shock.

It would be the moment he went to open the door. He would go back and just decide, nope I'm going to live a normal life. He would walk right out of the building and drive till he didn't even know where Beacon hills was, what was happening, or what the hell a Stiles was.

But alas, he could not. He was stuck. Stuck to live the life of having to open that cursed door.

The one that he could smell the stink of magic wafting under.

He hesitantly unlocked and opened the door.

He was greeted by eerie silence.

"Stiles? Scott?"

There was a loud, "Thud, thud!" A dull thumping like something large bounding closer.

He heard a shriek from the opposite side and no matter how much he didn't want to look away from the possible threat the yell pulled his attention.

A lightning flash of a small body running at top speed caught his eye. A kid with curly dark hair shot past the door. He was waving his arms around wildly with way too long sleeves flapping behind him.

Derek hadn't even noticed the thumping stopped near him, too absorbed in the shock of the child. He darted in front of the doorway and as he ran past something caught Derek's eye.

There was a large snowman in front of the door, one that hadn't been there before.

In an instant it's stick arms were flailing in a way that seemed to want to convey for him to stay calm. "Derek, don't freak out."

That voice came from that snowman. That snowman was talking. The snowman knew his name. The talking snowman knew his name and was talking to him.

Just then he felt an impact on his leg and something wrapping around it. On instinct he almost kicked it away, but he was glad he didn't. Looking down was the small child no more than four. His little teary eyes were looking up at Derek.

"Please save me from the scary snowman!"

Derek's mouth gaped as he looked at the kid. His tears stared to flow and they fell on a red and white striped shirt with grey sleeves. Wasn't that Scott's shirt? Wait- was that Scott?!

"Oh sure! Of course you like him! Totally not cool bro!"

Derek looked at where the snowman was crossing his twigs.

Oh fuck.

"Stiles?!" He dropped his keys in shock. "What the hell!?"

"I said don't freak out, sourwolf!"

Yup, that was definitely Stiles. He listened to the rest of the loft to try and hear a witch or intruding presence. After a quick scan of the room he saw candles, herbs, and open books that he definitely told him not to touch.