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Spark The Madness

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Stiles grew up knowing magic like the back of his palm, courtesy of his late mother. He was supposed to become an emissary to his mother's pack, but after some issues they had with her, his mother got sick. Sick enough to die and Stiles knew that it was the pack's fault for that. It was because they rejected the spark that she had to die and he resented them for that. His father didn't know the cause of her death, because she didn't want to see him angry, that's why Stiles took his father's wrath. He was beyond vengeful, he didn't want an eye for an eye, he just wanted them dead, all of them.


And maybe it was atrocious, the thoughts that muddled his head. But he refused to accept his mother's murderers are free to live the rest of their lives while she couldn't.


Maybe, just maybe, Stiles wasn't okay. Maybe it was Claudia's death that pushed him off the edge, but something in Stiles says he's been like this since he started having those dreams.


And as Noah started to neglect him, he took it in his hands to exact vengeance for them.


He researched and he researched until he found the perfect spell, the spell to entrap the pack, human or not, inside and set a flame to the damned house.


And he did it. And it was easy because some of the humans took pity upon their ‘pack member’ who lost someone close. So Stiles placed his magic in specific parts of the house and he let himself out as the circle formed fully. The pack immediately noticed something was wrong and went to chase him, but it was too late. They couldn’t get out and Stiles was already grinning at them. He slowly uttered the last words that will send the whole pack into blazing damnation.


He was thorough and there was nothing to point the blame at him. There was a strange blonde woman standing at the edge of the road, far enough not to see him, but close enough to see the house in flames. She had the same eyes as him… No… No, she enjoyed the thought of killing somebody like that and Stiles didn’t quite share the sentiment. She looked like she was vibrating with the urge to go and find a house she can burn down and Stiles watched her with a wary eye, careful so she doesn’t see him.


He’ll have to see who she was and keep an eye on her.




Stiles was eleven when his mother fell sick and he was thirteen when she died when she was murdered. He was fifteen when he avenged her and he was sixteen when he arrived in Beacon Hills. His father got a job offer as a Sheriff and they both eagerly jumped at the opportunity for a new start. Stiles just wanted to get far away from the pitying glances and his father’s worried gaze. Stiles was never sure how much Claudia told him about the pack, but he knows Noah is aware of the supernatural and is aware that Stiles is special.


Stiles was more than unhappy at having to start school again, fuck new friends, he didn’t need those, mom’s old ones betrayed her, so how is he supposed to trust anybody anymore?



Stiles' father wanted to introduce him to the Beacon Hills pack, but Stiles vehemently refused. Still plagued by the betrayal of his so-called pack. There was no need for them in Stiles' life. He was more than happy with only his father. He didn't need anybody. School be damned, Stiles didn't need friends. He could be the loner kid and no one would lose sleep over it, much less notice him.

With that said, it was a bit of a miscalculation on Stiles' part, because notice him they did. Maybe it was the fact that he was the new Sheriff's son or maybe that he was entering Beacon High in the middle of a year. Or maybe it was both of those things. Stiles ignored their questioning glances and tried to become one with the background.

He was doing fine until some black haired puppy decided to trot towards him. Stiles noticed he was being stared at by the group the pup left from, but Stiles was having none of that. He quickly took his stuff from his locker and before words left the teen's open mouth, Stiles was already sidestepping him and pedaling out of there. He couldn't help but smell a strangely familiar scent on the teen which had him grimace. Werewolf.

Stiles passed the group which was still staring at him and he glared at them. He left the school building as quickly as he could and he walked towards the cruiser already waiting for him. His face finally simmered down into something soft as he saw his father smiling at him.

Stiles was happy his dad could finally smile again and if that meant he'd have shitty days at school, he was all in.




The next day was not any better. He had to continuously watch where those mutts could be and avoid them at all cost. But as it always happens, Stiles' luck runs out.


The kid from yesterday finds him in the library and decides to jump him with questions of “How are you?” and “Want to sit next to me next class?” or “Want to join us at the lunch?”.


And as much as Scott, he did introduce himself, might as well call him that instead of mutt, tried to become friendly with Stiles, Stiles still refused to even try and be his friend. He didn’t need those.


As it is, Stiles stood up, offered Scott a small glare and the words: “Leave me alone.”, before he left the library.


But alas, luck was still not at his side, because as soon as he opened the library doors, he was met with the same group Scott hangs out with. They are probably pack, but Stiles was not interested in anything they are selling, so why are they trying to gang up on him?


One of the group, the man he learned to be Jackson aka Jackass, came close to him, leaving barely an inch of space between them.


“Look, honey, I’m sure you’re high-class and all that, but I’m not interested.” He let his hand touch the man’s abs before Jackass, the growling bastard, was sent flying into the wall.


Scott arrived behind Stiles just as it happened and Stiles quickly sidestepped so he was not close to the wolf who was looking at Stiles with the most confused and downright adorable face. Stiles spared the rest of the group a glance, noticing some wide eyes, shocked stares, and glares before he told them: “I already told you to leave me alone. I don’t care who you are or what you’re selling, I’m not interested.” He left before they could say anything…again…




The next day, there was a knock on the Stilinski front doors. Stiles reluctantly opened the doors. And was met with a beautiful brunette looking down at him. He didn’t seem to be any happier than Stiles was at the moment.


“I need you to come with me kid.” She spoke with a commanding tone, reminding Stiles of an Alpha in training and that made him even more reluctant to leave the house than he felt when he woke up.


“Yes, because I always follow unknown women to unknown places as soon as they command me to.” Stiles snarked at her.


The woman looked amused if the upturn of her lips said anything. “I’m Laura Hale. My mom, Talia Hale, the Alpha of Beacon Hills wants to meet you. I promise it’ll be short; she just wants to judge your character or whatever.” 


“The ‘or whatever’ doesn’t sound promising,” Stiles muttered and sighed. Maybe if he just met the Alpha and told her to leave him the fuck alone, maybe then the pack will actually listen.


Deciding that whatever happened, happened, Stiles took a step out of the house and followed Laura to the car.




The ride was fairly short since Laura was trying to murder them with speed. Fucking werewolves. Laura got out of the car when they finally saw a lone house in the preserve. Stiles stood up to follow her, but a strange voice stopped him in his tracks. It's a voice he should know, but can't quite remember. He looked at the direction where he felt the voice more than he saw and obviously there was nothing there. But the voice, the soft thrumming, it was coming from deeper in the forest and Stiles was tempted to follow it, but stopped as Laura called for him, a concerned look in her eyes. Stiles spared the forest one last look and followed after Laura.


As soon as they entered the house, Stiles was bombarded with the smell of werewolves and pack and he couldn't help the way he tensed. It's like his hackles rose as soon as he entered enemy territory, but he wasn't the only one. He saw some of the pack members tensed at his arrival.


Laura led him through the house to a big lounge area. There on the couch sat a woman with an intense air around her and Stiles immediately knew who she was. Stiles approached her with no hesitation, he stopped at an appropriate distance and the Alpha looked up at him.


“You wanted to see me Alpha Hale?” Stiles asked, not at all covering his displeasure.


The woman’s wary eyes gained a small spark of what Stiles assumed was humor though it might be the intent to kill as well, and with Stiles? It was a 50/50 chance.


She straightened in her seat and motioned for him to sit at the lone armchair across her. Stiles reluctantly sat, only because he could feel the tension in the room raise with each passing second he was standing and debating with himself.


“We weren’t sure you would ever come to meet us- “, Talia started and Stiles immediately interrupted her. “I wasn’t planning on it. The only reason I’m here now is that an Alpha decided to send their second in command to fetch me from my house.” His words were ice cold and the other occupants either flinched at the insinuation or growled at the disrespect Stiles was showing towards their Alpha.


“Yes, well, you weren’t responding to Scott and Laura volunteered to see what kind of a human could resist Scott’s charms as she put it.” Talia’s eyes were alight with mirth Stiles was not sharing.


Noticing the cold front from the boy, Talia decided to get to the point. “Beacon Hills is a place with many supernatural beings who traditionally request my permission to stay on the land.”


“I’m not though.”




“I’m not asking for permission nor am I a supernatural being.” His heart showed no lies, Stiles knew how to mask himself.


There was a small pause as the pack around him tried to absorb the insolence of his words.


“Then what are you? You don’t smell quite like a human would.” Talia continued still showing no anger.


“And what do I smell like?” Stiles asked for once actually curious about the answer.


“Like death.” Talia’s tone was…wary? Maybe even confused and worried.


Stiles on the other side was gleeful and he’s sure by the reaction of the wolves he could see that he was probably smiling which was disturbing them.


“Death? I do suppose that’s logical, yes. I can assure you my father and I came to Beacon Hills to start a new life. Away from anything supernatural, away from any packs.” He might have growled in displeasure as the last word left him but he didn’t care. The longer he was staying here, the more his senses were screaming ‘Danger!’ at him.


Talia’s eyes softened as if she understood and she didn’t, Stiles knows she doesn’t understand, hell not even his father understands, much less a stranger.


“If that is your wish, I will tell my pack to stay away.” Stiles was satisfied with that, it’s the only reason why he came here in the first place. He stood up before the Alpha was done and was making his way towards the exit. If he stayed here any longer, he might just kill them all. Talia followed him, he could feel it. And as soon as he opened the doors, she spoke up. “If you ever do something to raise my suspicion, I…” She didn’t continue her sentence, but the meaning was clear and Stiles didn’t care. He just wanted to leave already and this Alpha was making that impossible. Stiles merely glanced at her and walked away. “Wait! I’ll drive you back home!” This time it was Laura who stopped him in his tracks and Stiles turned to look at her. “I’d rather you all stayed away from my house. Besides, my ride is already here.” And as he said it, the pack noticed a cruiser enter their clearing. Stiles walked over to the passenger seat and the car left as soon as it came. Taking away with it the mystery that was the rude boy who smelled like death.




With that Stiles thought he’d get what he wanted, but instead, he has Scott trying to befriend him at any chance he could get, alone or with some of his entourage. And Stiles could see they could be friends, the best of friends, but that was before, before the murders. Now Stiles didn’t want to even entertain the thought that Scott might actually become a friend.


Not even home was a safe spot now, because he was plagued by the smells of the wolves who come around to either check on him or check what he’s up to.


So Stiles decided that going for a run might help clear his head. What he didn’t expect was to find himself in the forest, standing in front of a stump. A stump he knew must be a Nemeton what with it shouting it at him, begging him for help and Stiles already knew what it wanted, but he didn’t care. To heal the stump would put him in a vulnerable position he was not inclined to be in. Besides, he had no benefit from it, only the local pack would.


That didn’t stop the Nemeton from poking at his spark, still begging until Stiles decided to a little compromise. He whispered to the tree in the language long since forgotten, dead to this world. He told it he’s come and heal it little by little and the Nemeton thrummed with an agreement.


While it was overjoyed, Stiles was not. He pulled out his pocket knife and sliced across his wrist. He thought he heard something similar to a gasp, but as he surveyed his surroundings, he found nothing.


The cut was deep enough to bleed, but not deep enough to die, besides, Stiles could heal the little cut at any time if he felt inclined to it that is. He felt…odd doing this. It made him feel…relaxed? Was it the Nemeton the one who brought him this feeling or was it the cutting, the blood? Stiles was not sure, but he didn’t want to dwell on it.


He thought he heard rustling, but it might have just been the wind. He brought his eyes down to where his blood met the Nemeton who greedily absorbed it.


Feeling slightly drained, Stiles stopped his bleeding and turned to leave. He almost tripped on his face as a vine grabbed his leg, the Nemeton was practically begging him to stay or asking him if he will come again and Stiles rolled his eyes. “I already promised you, didn’t I?” As he said it, the vine uncurled and he finally left the clearing. He couldn’t wait until he was back in the warm covers of his bed. Maybe he overdid it, it is his first time doing a blood sacrifice… He stumbled slightly, his vision blackening out. A second later, he had a face full of fur holding him up. A black wolf, as tall as Stiles, was holding him up and Stiles knew he should feel scared because he only heard of wolves who could do a full shift, he’d never seen any, especially not this big! The wolf whined, flashing his beta yellow eyes at Stiles and he couldn’t help but snort. The wolf looked like it was frowning and there is nothing in this world that would make Stiles think those were not frowny brows on the wolf.


Stiles regained his balance and pushed the wolf gently by its snout. Stiles wondered in the back of his mind why he wasn’t running away. The wolf nosed at his wrist and Stiles looked at him just as he licked the blood away.


Stiles shivered before once again pushing the wolf away. “I gotta go Sourwolf.” His words felt a bit slurry even to his ears, but he didn’t care. The wolf’s brows seemed to crease even further at the nickname and Stiles couldn’t help but chuckle at the impossible sight. The wolf trotted behind him and pushed him forward with his snout. Stiles took the hint and started walking. The wolf joined him on his right side, staying close enough so Stiles could stick his hand in the midnight black fur to gain any semblance of balance.


When they arrived at his back door, the wolf whined, as if it didn’t want to leave him. Stiles pushed at the wolf’s snout in an endearing way. “I’m fine, go home Sourwolf.” The wolf made a sound similar to scoffing but in a wolf way. Stiles decided not to dignify him with a response and walked into his house and collapsed on his bed.




The next morning, he didn’t wake up for school and his dad must have decided he looked like shit and left him for dead…well to rest at least.


Stiles’ recollection of yesterday was slowly coming to him and he couldn’t help but think of how stupid he was. What exactly was he doing by letting a wolf so close?!


He collapsed back to his bed, thinking that maybe he’ll forget about it the next time he wakes up… I was unsuccessful.


The next time Stiles decided to go to the Nemeton, he’ll cover any and all trace of his scent and his existence so he doesn’t have to think about that wolf again, much less see him.


It didn’t help much. It was as if the wolf knew when he would be at the Nemeton, always waiting near the tree line. He only approaches when Stiles finishes the offering and helps him walk home. One time, the wolf might have actually carried him home because he doesn’t remember anything else besides being next to a stump and then being stumped…Not his best joke.




Perhaps it should have been obvious to Stiles that when it rains, it, in fact, pours. So when he has a bad day, a few bad days, he should have known it was going to only get worse and worse from there on. And the thin hold he had on his emotions is getting thinner and thinner, already frayed at some parts.





A few days after Stiles’ sixteenth birthday, which, by the way, he got his mother’s jeep for, the Argents rolled into town, or rather a specific Argent rolled into town, seeing as Chris and Allison were apparently already in Beacon Hills, longer than Stiles.


So imagine Stiles’ surprise as Kate Argent was waiting for him next to his jeep. Her mere presence was defiling his mother’s keepsake and he didn’t try to hide the animosity he felt for her. The growling in his throat was getting louder as the blonde didn’t move. He felt eyes on him, but he didn’t care. Kate was there and he didn’t like it. He didn’t like her, not since that day when he first saw her. Not after he found out who she was and what kind of a person she was.


She finally noticed him and she looked slightly cowed and moved slightly away from the jeep so she wasn’t leaning on it anymore. Stiles walked to his jeep and snapped at her. “What?”


She seemed momentarily taken aback, but she recovered fast. “I know you saw me that night. I know you were there, and dare I say, I know what you did that night, Stiles.” She purred into his ear, a whisper, a promise, a call, and Stiles was blistering from the anger.


He leaned into her space and purred back at her. “Kate, if you don’t back away now, burning you alive would be considered an act of mercy in the sight of what I’ve got planned for you now.”


The saccharine way he said it made her shiver involuntarily as she took a step back. She looked embarrassed for backing away from him, but Stiles only grinned darkly at her. “Smart girl.” He mocked as he entered his jeep. From the corner of his eye, he could see Scott and his gang looking at him. The brunette next to Scott was Allison Argent apparently, and she looked shell-shocked. Stiles drove away, leaving Kate staring at him.




The next time he sees the Argents aside from Allison in school is when Chris decides to talk to him at the gas station. Although talk is not quite the word for it. All he did was say: “Watch your back.”, and Stiles is unsure if he said it as a threat or as a warning. Either way, Stiles was going to ignore it. After all, he was a fan of ignoring problems until they go away.

Kate, however, was not a problem that just goes away. She made it a habit to apparently stalk Stiles to get him to…team up with her? Who knows what she wanted…


And to prove his point, Kate followed him all the way to the Nemeton. She spoke saccharinely, trying to get him to participate in another bout of mass murder. And Stiles reached his breaking point. Truly, it was not his fault, it was hers, for constantly reminding him and trying to get him to join her.


It was her fault the tight hold on his magic slipped and his tattoos showed. It was her fault the werewolves were approaching fast because they felt tremendous power suddenly appear on their land. It was her fault that the runes on his hands lit up. It was her fault he was so angry.


When the wolves arrived, they arrived to witness a tattooed Stiles hold Kate above the stump of the Nemeton. His hands were lit, burning into her neck. She screamed in fear, panic, and confusion. “Stop! We are the same! We could be partners! We could help each other! We could kill all those werewolves together!” She begged, slightly choking more and more on each word as Stiles tightened his hold.


“Kate, baby, you are helping me. Your death will save me so much work! This way I don’t have to bleed myself to the Nemeton, isn’t that great, partner?” Stiles knew the wolves were there, waiting to attack either of them, but Stiles didn’t care, not like they could do much to him. He changed his hold on Kate so he was holding her only with one hand. His other hand went to her stomach. He burned the magical circle into her skin. Ignoring the smell of burning flesh, Kate’s screams, and the wolves’ growls. As he finished the circle, Kate was almost passed out. He tutted at her, telling her it was too early for her to sleep now.


He dropped her like a rag doll onto the stump, channeling his magic into the earth, into the Nemeton. Vines sprouted from the ground grabbing at both of them wherever they could. The vines on Stiles were comforting, soothing, but the ones on Kate are barbed, holding her down, piercing her skin, stealing her blood, her life. Stiles chanted and his eyes glowed, the purest of gold, almost like a blaze itself. The runes necessary for the spell lit up on his body and he shrugged off his hoody and shirt. He brought his burning hand to his stomach and drew out the magic circle as well. Of course, unlike Kate, this was nothing to him, he could heal it as soon as he wants, but he needed it for the spell.


As his chanting neared an end, the vines surrounding them twirled together to form two big vines and each pierced Stiles and Kate respectively.


There were gasps heard as Kate and Stiles gurgled blood. Kate passed out, or maybe she just died, who knows, but Stiles? Stiles opened his arms and laughed. The laughter distorted by the blood climbing from his throat.


He felt so alive! The Nemeton thrummed with so much life Stiles was feeling it! As Kate’s life finally perished, the vines receded and Stiles swayed on his feet. He didn’t even realize he had a barrier put up so no one would intrude until he saw the wolves looking at him worriedly, Talia and Laura, Scott and a few of his friends all tried to reach him, but were unable to pass the barrier Stiles called his personal bubble.


At least it was like that until a black wolf bounded towards him. His eyes were crazed as if he wanted very much to do something to presumably Kate if the way he was avoiding her said anything. The wolf trotted towards him and he could feel the rest of his pack still, unsure of what Stiles would do. Stiles just watched Kate’s body being absorbed into the Nemeton who was starting to grow. When the black wolf was right in front of him only then did Stiles look at him. And he snorted as soon as he did. “Sourwolf.” The slight affection in his voice didn’t go unnoticed.


The wolf lowered his snout to the wound which Stiles had yet to heal. He made a high pitch noise much like a whine. Stiles lifted a hand to calmly pet the wolf, to reassure him he was okay. As soon as he gathered his bearings, he healed his wound, and only then did the wolf calm down slightly.


Exhausted, Stiles collapsed to his knees just as the Nemeton reached his height peak. Stiles’ barrier fell away and some of the wolves ran to him, and Stiles couldn’t help but wonder why. The last thing he remembered was strong arms holding him up and he fell into that hold, not caring anymore.




The next thing he remembered is an unfamiliar ceiling and the feeling of metal binds biting into his skin. He shuddered as he realized what was going on. The heat from within him was impossible to stop now. It rose up and covered his hands just as some wolves piled into the room, probably due to the change in his heartbeat. He lifted his arms and the metal melted right off of them. The wolves staring at him with varying degrees of caution.


There was one wolf who was only looking at him with concern and Stiles isn’t dumb, this has to be his wolf.



His? His wolf? What? Since when?


Stiles shook away the questions suddenly piling up in his head as the man approached him. Stiles gaze stayed on the Alpha in the room, watching what she and her entourage would do. His wolf stood in front of him, blocking his view and Stiles found he couldn’t get angry. He lifted his head to catch the gaze of his wolf.


“Are you okay?” The wolf asked him and his eyebrows did the thing. Stiles snorted at his brows, raising his arms to pull the skin to make the creases disappear. “Sourwolf.”


They both ignored the tense wolves behind, who tensed even more, (Who knew it was possible?) when Stiles lifted his arms.


“Derek.” His wolf muttered.


“Stiles, though you probably already knew that.” Derek offered him a smile and Stiles was wondering when did his wolf, Derek, start having a calming effect on him? The man lifted his hands to cup Stiles’ head. He caressed the dark circles under his eyes. There was a concerned expression on his face and there were questions swimming in those hazel eyes of his, but Stiles felt tired. Unreasonably so, considering that he just woke up. Noticing his exhaustion, Derek turned around to say something, but Stiles was too tired to listen.


The next thing he knows, the room is empty aside from Derek and himself. Derek gently pushed Stiles to lie down and he laid down next to him, embracing him. And Stiles felt safe, he felt at home, after years, he felt a semblance of a normal he lost a long time ago.




Stiles woke up when Derek nudged him. He opened his bleary eyes at him and saw Derek’s blinding smile.


They talked for a bit. Derek asked questions and Stiles answered them. About feeding the Nemeton his own blood, about Kate, about what Kate was saying, about what he did.


Stiles asks Derek what they were and Derek only said one word: “Mates.”, and yet it felt like he said more than a million words, a million promises and ‘I love you’s’. It felt right and Stiles nodded, already knowing what it means. He had hoped he had a mate, but after his last pack, he didn’t want anything.


Derek says it’s because he hasn’t grieved properly because he and the Sheriff both decided to immerse themselves into anything else but to grieve. But Stiles refused to accept that that’s an excuse for mass murder. Derek kept quiet, told him that he might not know everything the pack did to the two sparks, he did know they did enough to kill one and mentally scar the other one and that was enough for him. Derek theorized that Claudia was Stiles’ anchor so when he lost her, he went mad.


They will have to have this conversation a few more times before Stiles could believe in it. Believe that there might still be something good in him.





It’s not like life suddenly became colorful or that Stiles was healed. No, Stiles is accepting now. He’s accepting his mistakes and he realized that Derek was his new anchor now. Derek helps him work out his anger issues. They redirect the spark to something more useful, like warding Beacon Hills.


On one of the gatherings of the Hale family, Stiles finally came. Derek led him inside, and Stiles hesitated.


“I don’t know about this guys, the last time a pack invited me in like this, I ended up burning them all.”


It was said in such a way that it was unclear was Stiles serious or joking. Derek, however, knew this was only his panic speech. He cuffed him on the back of his head and the previous silence was now filled with laughter at Stiles’ scowl. It was a sign that Stiles was healing if he could talk about it out loud.


“Well then, thank God we are not like other packs!” Laura said as she pulled him in for a hug. Stiles fumbled, unsure of what to do before he hugged her back.


Yea, it wasn’t perfect, but it was fine, it was a start. A new family, a lover, an anchor to keep his spark sane. It was more than Stiles deserved and way more than he had ever hoped for.