"Be very careful. Many of the items in this warehouse are very old and very powerful.." Peter said to the group. He had his hands in the pockets of his pressed slacks, and his leather jacket zipped up tight. It was really cold for August. The werewolves were standing still, while the humans in the group shivered and walked in place, trying in vain to fight off the cold fingers of premature winter.
"And very unstable. STILES--" Derek snapped as he saw Stiles not paying attention, and annoyingly pulling his zipper up and down.
"What? I'm listening. Why am I being singled out?" Derek rolled his eyes, and Peter continued.
"We are looking for a necklace. It's got a red gem, wrapped with gold wire and a scrolled metal frame. We need this necklace to help us against the coven. We were lucky that they didn't hurt any of us permanently the last time they attacked us. We need to do this as fast as possible before the guards come back for their hourly check."
"Erica, Boyd, and Lydia, check the basement. Allison, Scott and Jackson, check the main floor. Peter, Stiles, and I will check the top floor. Let's meet back here in thirty." Derek commanded, and everyone shuffled off to search the building.
Derek and Peter practically leaped up the stairs, as Stiles trailed behind. In the top floor, it was much less organized than the rows of shelves of boxes that were contained on the main floor. It seems whoever was putting artifacts up here got tired halfway through and just chucked boxes in hazardous piles. Derek and Peter started at the right side of the room, and started pulling boxes apart. They started a neat pile of stacked items. Careful not to jar anything too much in case some of the magical items still had juice in them.
Stiles, however, didn't work so neatly. He picked a random area, and pawed through a box. When he found an interesting item, even if it wasn't the fancy gem necklace, he would turn it over and over in his hand, trying to figure it out. He chewed on his lip as he skimmed old books with ripped spines and yellow pages. He was entralled at all the knowledge he could use. He had began last summer, learning as much of magic that Deaton would teach him.
Derek and Peter had made it halfway though the room, when Derek caught Stiles leaning over a pile of boxes, trying to reach something shiny in the mess.
"Stiles, focus!" Derek said, at the same moment, Stiles lost his balance and fell into the pile. Sparks flew from something under his leg, and dust flew like an atomic cloud of smoke into the room.
"My bad." Stiles replied, rubbing an elbow which was scraped. He stopped suddenly. "Oh hey, look!" He pulled a gold chain and the red gem necklace dangled from his fingers. Derek took it and handed it to Peter.
"Good job, this is exactly what we needed. Let's get out of here." Derek put out a hand to pull Stiles up, and he was about to take it when he saw the shiny spot he had been reaching for. He moved his hand, and touched it, then pulled out a polished brass teapot with a chipped top. It fit in his palm, and he ran his fingers along the edge, to an engraving. A smear of red soaked into the grooves, and that's when Stiles realized he had touched his elbow with that hand and got his blood on it.
"I told you not to mess with stuff!" Derek yanked the teapot from Stiles' hand and wiped the blood off with the edge of his black t-shirt.
A flash of light rang out and they closed their eyes. Peter and Derek heard Stiles curse when he opened his eyes, and they followed suit. Then their jaws dropped slightly as they looked at Stiles. He was standing now, but his clothes had disappeared and been replaced. In lieu of his ratty jeans, he wore a billowly pair of dark blue pants. His Batman t-shirt was replaced by a very sheer blue shirt that showed his chest underneath. And two gold bands circled his wrists.
"Stiles, why are you dressed like that? How did you do it so fast?" Derek mumbled, unsure if this was a prank or not.
"Uh," Stiles pulled slightly at the shirt, wondering the same thing himself.
"I wish we could just go home without something weird happening." Derek groaned.
"Yes, Master." Stiles said, making a face because he couldn't stop it. He made a quick nod, and suddenly, Derek was standing on his porch, Stiles beside him, and the rest of the pack no where to be seen.
They both looked at the railing of the porch, without saying anything, and found the small polished brass teapot sitting there, almost mockingly.