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Shielded from the Rain

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When he was thirteen, he saw the news. Six children, exactly his own age, with a seemingly random set of powers had prevented a bank robbery. Stiles was not stupid (he was, in fact, already miles in front of the rest of his class intelligence wise matched only by Lydia and Danny). He knew that his dad would be able to pull records on these kids, so he taped the news piece and wrote himself a note of glowing gold on the wall to remind his dad to watch the recording when he got back from work. The golden post-its had been an exquisite piece of craftsmanship. The meditation and control he had been forced to develop to create a word floating in the air that would stay until it was dispelled – even if Stiles slept – had been immense. The best bit was the discovery that he could allow his dad to wave his hand through the word and dispel it as a cloud of golden mist. It had made both of their days.

Annoyingly, he knew he couldn’t wake his dad in the morning after a night shift - it wouldn’t be fair – so he left for school knowing that when he returned, his dad would have looked up who these children were. The first surprise was that they were organised by the man who had tried to buy him. The second was that there were not six, there were seven. That was it though. Even using the extra powers from his promotion, Noah, the now Sheriff, could only find the names of the kids: Luthor, Diego, Allison, Klaus, no information supplied (now that was bizarre), Ben and Vanya. Scott may be his brother in all but blood (and even that was something they had tried to rectify as eleven-year-olds – much to their parent’s horror) but these kids were the closest he would ever have to genuine blood relations.

Stiles kept up to date with the actions of the so-called Umbrella Academy but after a time, he forgot about them. There were more important things to worry about – namely, the fact that three years later. His best friend was bitten by a fucking werewolf.




His spark, as it were, was probably what saved him numerous times from death. Ok, there was no probably about it. Without it, Stiles would have been torn to shreds many times. Scott’s refusal to believe him about the whole werewolf business was a nightmare and it resulted as one would expect, with a vicious creature launching itself at Stiles with the intention to at least maim, or seriously injure. It was instinct, to be honest, that made Stiles do it and once he had the growling, struggling creature floating in the air in front of him in a web of golden light, he began to – for the first time since his mother had died – influence its thoughts and emotions. Calm was the main thing he pushed into Scott’s mind. A wisp of gold out of one hand, in through Scott’s ear, glowing past his eyes, exiting out of the other ear and returning into Stiles was all it took. Scott’s features faded back to normal and he looked up, puzzled at his current position.

Stiles waved his hand, dissipating the golden web around Scott causing him to fall to the floor with a grunt.

“So yeah……. Surprise?” Stiles said giving jazz hands to Scott who looked a little out of his depth.

“Dude,” Scott whispered, “what the hell? How did you do that? What are you?” Slowly, his fear was replaced by excitement.

“Keep it down Scotty,” Stiles hissed, “No one can know. Like, the only other person who knows is my dad. You cannot tell anyone.”

“Um Stiles,” Scott started, “I wouldn’t but still…. Like….. couldn’t you whammy me to make me forget? Like you calmed me down with that thing didn’t you?”

“I could man but I don’t like the idea of messing with someone’s mind. Besides, I do trust you.”

Stiles thought for a minute, “there is one thing though.”




Sheriff Stilinski had seen a lot of things in his time. To be honest, after discovering his son’s spark he didn’t think there was anything that could phase him. He was wrong.

“Werewolves?” he repeats to the boys standing in front of him. “Of fucking course werewolves exist. Why couldn’t you be a normal magical teenager for once?” He shakes his head at the boys again, “You need to tell Melissa. She is your mum and she loves you. I am happy to be there to help if you don’t feel like you can control yourself to demonstrate.”

Scott shrugged, “I think I can sir. And if Stiles is there, I’ll be fine”. Stiles paled at Scott’s words as his father shot him an all-knowing glare.

“Explain.” Growled the Sheriff.




 In the end, having a nurse and the head of the law enforcement in the know had really helped. The appearance of Derek Hale had still been a surprise. The anger that he held towards himself was not healthy and the Sheriff had made sure to sit the boy down and talk it out. He had been remarkably resilient until the Sheriff revealed his knowledge on the subject. Stiles had tracked down Alan Deaton and managed to pin him down as the person to go to for all things werewolf. It had only taken a little convincing and the reminder that the Sheriff had noticed an unnaturally high quantity of aconite – a deadly poison to humans – in his surgery and Deaton had sung like a canary.

The information about the infamous Hale fire had been hard to take in but was worth it in the end. The Sheriff’s genuine interest in helping Derek when he returned to Beacon Hills had paid off and now, he was included in all of the so-called pack business. Forcing Derek to stay at their home had been Stiles’ idea and had turned out, like usual, to be a good one. It helped keep Derek sane and had bought a bit of excitement back into all of their lives. Reluctantly, Derek had agreed to help Scott with his control and with the Sheriff’s scrutinizing gaze and teaching tips whenever they practised, Scott rapidly learnt to be one with his inner wolf.

The normality helped Derek too. It was a surprise to all of them when he woke up one day with four legs and a bushy tail.




Stiles’ spark had done absolutely nothing to stop his possession by the Nogitsune. Allison and Aiden were dead, along with a large number of the deputies down at the station. He had barely been able to access his abilities once the Nogitsune was in his mind. He didn’t want to give the creature any more advantages than it already had, after all, the amount of strife it could have caused if realised that it held in its grubby hands the ability to control other people’s minds, as well as Stiles’ own, was too large to imagine. Instead, the moment Stiles realised what was going on, he began to meditate. The Nogitsune’s rage when it realised that he was building a vault in his mind that even a creature as old as it was wouldn’t be able to break into was terrifying to behold. It thrashed inside him, whispered terrible things into his mind about what it would do to his father, Scott, Melissa, even random people on the street as he walked past them and eventually, it took over. The Nogitsune’s fatal mistake was separating them.

The moment he had been free from its hold, he had undergone the Oni’s testing. This was mainly to settle his own emotions and fears for once he knew he was uninhabited by the creature, Stiles began to unlock his spark. The pack thought he had passed out from the experience and ignored him while they figured out how to save Lydia. Their idea was a good one but had one floor – one which they all realised – the only person who would make the Nogitsune so angry that it wouldn’t consider its own actions was Stiles. He had to be there.

The evening did not go according to plan. Allison was dead. Aiden was dead. They had made it through the hallucinatory garden only to watch as the Nogitsune threw Scott into a wall, snapping his spine, and smacked Kira into unconsciousness. It stalked down the corridor towards where Lydia and Stiles were standing, holding each other up whilst Scott watched helplessly as his vertebrae knitted themselves back together.

“Divine move, divine move, you think you have any moves at all? You can kill the Oni but me? Me? I’m a thousand years old! You can’t kill me!” Screamed the monster as it strode towards them, spittle flying from its mouth as it yelled.

“No more,” Stiles whispered,

“What was that?” the Nogitsune taunted

“No more! No one else will die today because of you!”

“And what are you going to do to stop me? I had killed thousands before you were even born. How could a weak, pathetic human like you even begin to hurt me? I could snap your neck and not even notice the exertion”

“Weak huh?” said Stiles, “That’s debatable. Let’s discuss that divine move again.”

With that, he launched himself forward pushing Lydia behind him. He clamped his hands on either side of the Nogitsune’s head and pulled them outwards. A string of golden light flowed from the creature’s ears into his hands as he pulled harder. The Nogitsune began to scream and fell to its knees.

“Some of us are willing to sacrifice everything for those we love,” Stiles growled at it.

With one last almighty yank, the light came free of the creature’s ears, connected to the end of the right-hand strand, a fly. With a sweep of his left hand, stiles cocooned the fly inside a cage of golden light before clapping it between his palms. Both the fly and the body turned to dust as they watched.




Stiles was 21 when he made a move on Derek. It wasn’t a surprise. He had been dropping hints for years – the come to bed eyes, copious glances at his lips, even going as far as to come out to his dad as bisexual after breaking up with Malia and saying how he had discovered this when he realised he was a little bit in love with Derek. Understandably, Derek had dated on and off over the years since he moved into the Stilinski residence. His longest relationship had been for two years while Stiles was at college but even that just hadn’t felt right in the end. This though, this was perfect. He lay next to Stiles panting in his king size bed thanking all gods he could think of that he had moved into his own home and wasn’t still living with the Sheriff. While he was sure Noah wouldn’t be against them being together, he would rather not scar the poor man for life with the sound of his son having incredibly loud and passionate sex on every flat surface in the room, not all of them horizontal.

“That was phenomenal,” panted Stiles from next to him. He rolled over to face Derek, “I really need a shower now so please say you will join me.”

Derek grinned at him and stood up, stretching his body to show off every part to Stiles before he picked him up off the bed.

“Hey! Put me down!” Stiles demanded, hitting his fists against Derek’s back. He didn’t.  That day, the shower became another area of the house that they defiled.

It was a good relationship.




Derek was proud to say that he was the one to propose. Stiles was 27 at the time and seemed completely shocked. Happy, but surprised. The setting had been perfect. It was date night, Stiles was cooking dessert and Derek, the main.

“You can’t do that!” he squawked looking at the engagement ring sitting on top of the golden brown beef wellington in front of him. “That’s not fair.”

He huffed at Derek before picking up the ring and slotting it onto his finger. “Of course I’ll marry you, you big brute but I wanted to be the one to propose.” He pouted again before throwing himself over the table and pulling Derek in for a deep kiss. “I love you. You know that right?”

Derek did.

What he didn’t know was that as he took the cover off his dessert, there would be a ring sitting there with a proposal written around it in caramel.




The wedding had been a success and the decision to buy a house had come shortly after. Like Scott and Kira, they moved out of Beacon Hills. The Sheriff had remarried Natalie Martin, Mellissa and Chris had their weird thing going on, the nematon had gone quiet and according to Deaton, was protecting the town once again so there was no need to them to stay. Adoption was on the cards but Derek and Stiles wanted to get a home set up first and that took time.

Moving to the same road as the old Umbrella Academy building was a complete accident. Stiles hadn’t even thought about it since the werewolf fiasco began but the Academy had shut down years ago and the situation didn’t bother him anymore. His pack knew what he could do, not the full extent but he hadn’t kept anything that could help from the pack; his spark was mainly used to avoid confrontations now – and occasionally to grab the TV remote when he was feeling too lazy.

What he never expected was the sudden influx of activity in the building. That was until he saw the headlines about Sir Reginald Hargreeves’ death.