Stiles Stilinski finds out that his parents aren't who he thought they were. After the death of his father, he can no longer stay in Beacon Hills. Everything there reminded him of it. So he took Roscoe and together they embarked on their next advent...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Beacon Hills Animal Clinic of Dr. Alan Deaton
"So what are you saying exactly?" Lydia demanded prissily, her lips pursed in displeasure as she glared at Deaton. Deaton just informed them that Stiles was indeed behind those thick, impenetrable trees, where forest seemed to get impossible to go through.
"That place," Deaton started unsurely. "I'd advise you to stay away from it. It reeks of black magic."
"All the more reason to find Stiles."
"If what you said is true, Stiles will be very at-home there. Please, Scott," he looked at the young alpha. "You can't risk your pack like this. That place... it's shrouded with darkness and filth. Vile intentions and blood soaking the ground. I could take down whatever's stopping you to go through, but believe me when I tell you, you don't want to piss off the one who put it there in the first place."
"Who put it there?" asked Scott, expecting Deaton to know what type of supernatural creature was capable of this. Deaton just shook his head, having no idea.
"Whoever did this, is very well-versed in black arts. The spell... no, the curse that is hiding that place from you, is ancient, dark and full of malice." The younger werewolves shuddered, unconsciously huddling together for comfort and reassurance.
"Do you think they kidnapped Stiles, without us knowing? It would explain no sign of struggle thing," Scott asked hopefully, but Deaton crushed his hopes and dreams then and there.
"That type of magic leaves a residue. You wouldn't be able to pick it up, but I would've felt it from here. I'm sorry, Scott, but Stiles wasn't kidnapped. He left."
"Well, we just have to bring him back then, isn't that right, Scott?" Scott just bobbed his head in agreement with Derek. "So get your witchy-druid-y stuff and help us break that barrier or something."
Deaton heaved an annoyed sigh, obviously, there was no talking them out of it. "If you still decide to go with it," he hesitated, shooting a look at Lydia. "Take the banshee with you. It's better to know when it's coming." Because he felt like not all of them would return home.
Lydia glared at him for daring to suggest such a thing and also because he called her a banshee. Technically, that's what she was, but she had a name! Fucking use it.
"Thanks, Deaton. I appreciate it," Scott thanked him gently, knowing how reluctant the druid was to help them... and any other day, Scott would've listened to him, but this was Stiles they were talking about, they needed to get their pack-member back.
"What are we waiting for then?" asked Liam, voicing everyone's thoughts with a shaky voice, causing Scott to shoot him a reassuring look, that no, he didn't speak out of turn. That they were all welcome to voice their thoughts because they were a pack, not some supernatural troops under his command.
They drove together towards Maine, with Deaton in the front, while the puppies were huddled together in the truck with Peter, Derek, and Scott sitting in the back.
