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Evil Author's Day 2016-20

Chapter Text

Ai No Kusabi

Pairing: Rauol Am/Katze

Secondary Pairing: Iason Mink/ Rikki the Dark


Plot :

The social structure of Amoi as changed after the deaths of Iason Mink and Rikki the Dark. Pets(beings created to be used as sex slave for the Elites amusement)-are seen as products of a bygone era but a few Elites still kept them. Though many of the rules of keeping a Pet have changed.

What graces the halls of Eos Tower are the Consorts and Favorites of the Elites. (Consorts-spouses of the Elites. Favorites-are not spouses but have more rights than a Pet.)

This changed came about and is enforced by Rauol Am, the Blondie Elite who took over as the Syndicate leader after the death of Iason Mink. Rauol Am changed the social mores of their world so he could keep Katze of Ceres.

Jupiter, the AI computer that had controlled all of Amoi had been shut down for the past two years now. She had grown so unstable after the death of her favorite son, Iason Mink.

Change is on the wind for Amoi once more for a secret has been kept. Iason and Rikki are actually alive they had been in cryostasis until they could be healed of their wounds and the Black Moon poison they smoked before Dana Bahan was destroyed. Once they are awakened in this new world. How will this change Iason and Rikki's relationship?

Why did Katze become Rauol Am's Consort?


Katze slowly opened his eyes, he looked about the room, frowning, something wasn't right. This wasn't the Alley in the slums of Midas that he had been dying in. The white walls of the hospital room gleamed a bright white in the low light. He shifted slightly remembering that he had been shot in the stomach and been left for dead by the rival gang that wanted to move into the black market that Katze was in charge of. He paused when he felt a weight between his legs...that as a Furniture(the castrated servants of the Elite) that he shouldn't have. Slowly he reached down and gently touched himself. Shocked by what he felt.

"I wouldn't do that just yet," a smooth voice, startling Katze, from a dark corner of the room. Katze heard the rustles of clothes as a figure stepped into  the light. Katze eyes widened at Sir Rauol Am walked over to Katze's bed, "you're not fully healed yet."

"What happened," Katze asked pulling his hand out from under the blankets.

Sir Am gave Katze a concerned look before running a hand threw his long golden curls, his emerald eyes flashed with suppressed anger, "You almost died, Katze! If I had been a few minutes later in finding you? You would be dead. I've lost enough people, Katze!"

Katze knew the affection Rauol Am had for Iason Mink was what drove the Elite to act like this for like Katze. Rauol had been in love with Iason just like Katze. Katze only stared at Rauol in surprised he was sure the Blondie Elite just saw Katze as a means to and end felt the strange need to apologize for causing the man distress. "I'm sorry?"

Rauol rolled his eyes at him, "I've taken action to ensure you won't be in such a situation again."

Katze blinked, "What," he asked sitting up, causing his long, bright hair to fall over his shoulder...Wait, huh? His hair should only be down to his jaw line and only on the left side, to cover up the scar. He reached up to stroke his scar and was met with smooth skin? Katze looked up at the Blondie, "What did do to me!"

Rauol shrugged, "I had you healed and your imperfections fixed in one of the amniotic tanks."

Those tanks had been used to grow the Pets of Amoi. Finding out they could be used heal had been a accident.

"Why!?" Katze exclaimed.

"Because I need your help with something. Iason and Rikki are alive," Rauol Am had become the Syndicate Leader when Dana Bahan severely injuring previous Syndicate Leader, Iason Mink by the bombs set by  the man who kidnapped Rikki the Dark, Iason's Pet. When Rauol had been called to the sight of the explosion and found them both barely hanging on to life. Being the Head of the Department of Genetic Control and at the time Iason Mink's Second. "They are in cryostasis. When the time is right I'll put them in an amniotic tank to be healed."

Katze frowned, "What do you mean 'when the time is right? ' "

"You remember the virus that went swept through Tanagura and the other city-states last year, that killed most of the Pet population." Rauol said, "Since then the requests for new pets as lower for ninety percent. The time of the Pets of Amoi is growing to a close."


(Rauol explains to Katze about-The Consort/Favorite Act-)



"...I need to proof that Iason and Rikki aren't the only case of an Elite finding...a truer companionship with another." Rauol finished, "I need you to be my Consort."

"So, that's your plan? You want to lie to your Elite breathren so when you awaken Iason and Rikki they will be excepted in society?" Katze asked incredulously, "That's insane!"

Raoul frowned, "Why? I've been seen in your company for years now. Many a time you were with me, Iason and Rikki at Pet Shows and Parties as well at other social events as my guest or Iason's"

Katze glared at the blond man, "Our relationship is nothing like Iason and Rikki's," kind of horrified at the very idea of having a relationship like that with this man like the one Rikki had with Iason. He had seen the toll it had taken on Rikki and even Iason by the end. Even faking such a relationship seemed like a lot of work. But the Consort Act would in fact better the lives of a lot of people in the long run Katze knew for already the eyes of the Elite were looking else where for their pleasures.

"Well, we just won't tell the other Elites that." Rauol said with smirk as he leaned over Katze bracing his hands on either said of Katze's head. Rauol pressed his lips to the red head's, "I'm sure we can make sure this situation benefits us both, " before taking advantage of Katze's shock and deepened the kiss.


Three Years Later...

Katze sat in the lounge chair by the ornate swimming pool with two water falls and three smaller hot pools. There were also shallow water canals that followed a path around the three hot pools in figure eights. It was a work of act, really, in one of Eos Tower's recreational rooms. He watched as the artificial sunlight bounced off the waters, he sighed shifting in his chair running a hand across the back of his neck wiping away the sweat gathered under his long crimson colored hair that pulled in a high pony tale. If someone had told Katze that he would one day be suffering in the lavish life style of a pampered Consort...A word that was still new to the Amoian vocabulary...

Katze would have laughed. He had been quite content as the Overseer of the Black Market. The unofficial ruler of the Amoian underworld.  Or at least he had been. Sometimes he wondered why he even here?

Sometimes, Katze?

Just up, Rikki. Katze, told the voice of the dark haired boy, in hishead. Over the year that voice had started to sound more and more like Rikki's. Katze's situation was as alike as it was different from how the dark haired boy's had been.

"...In other news..."

Katze's eyes glanced up at the large vision screen that hovered over the pool.

"...Four years ago to day, Former Syndicate Leader Iason Mink and his lover, Former  Pet Rikki Dark. Both of them perished when Dana Bahan collapsed due to a structural  flaw design."

No, Katze thought angrily, they died because Guy of Bison was an obsessed mad man of a fool. He had been Rikki's pairing partner one time and thought Rikki had belong to him after that.

"...Lord Rauol Am, Current Syndicate Leader, created the Consort Act, the Favored Bi-laws and the Reordered Pet Ownership Clauses. In memory of his dear friends Iason Mink and Rikki Dark. In a past interview Lord Am has said,"

The image on the screen changed to an interview Katze knew happened just after the Consort Act had been passed by the Council of Twelve. Rauol had shown a ruthlessness that was unsurprising to those that knew the man to get the laws passed. There had been a reason why Rauol Am had been Iason's Mink's Second in Command.

Katze almost laughed out loud at the horrible lavender and bright yellow suit with the oversized shoulder pads that Raoul thought were so fashion back then.

"...I know, "Raoul paused swallowing hard, a sign of grief, "that Iason would have wanted these changes to be made for the betterment of Amoian society. But also for selfish reasons. Iason was love with Rikki. Iason would have changed the world for him if he could have, which was prevented by their deaths. So I took up his mantle. Not only in Iason's memory but for the good of all of the Elites."

The news broadcast finished up with,

"...the candlelight ceremony will be held at nine o'clock and donations to the Pet Saftey and Educational Fund will be accepted then as well..."

Katze took note of the Consorts, Favored, and the few Pets that watched the broadcast avidly and of those who continued to laugh and gossip ignoring it. Katze rubbed his forehead, pained. The light reflecting off the windows of the Tower and the waters of the pools were beginning to give him a headache.

Eos Tower catered to all the Elites and the few high ranking Citizens who lived and worked there. It still surprised Katze at just how many of the Consorts and Favorites were Mongrels. Manufactured Pets were rare these days. A little over four years ago a virus was accidentally releases from Keeler Laboratories that turned out to be deadly to the Manufactured Pets.

Many died before a cure was found for the virus.

It wasn't long after that the Elite turned their eyes to the Mongrels, the caste of humans with the least genetic alterations and darkest hair, skin, and eye colors. The Elites followed Iason's example and got their new pleasures form the slums of Ceres. Though it was not unheard of during that time for a middle-class citizen to go missing, only to turn up collared by an Elite.

Katze wondered if these young Consorts and Favored knew just how lucky they were?

"Is it true?"

Katze heard a soft whisper to the side of him, he glanced over the tops of his sunshades, to see a young man no older than maybe nineteen sitting with two other young men. The one that spoke had short but gravity defying brown hair, amber-whiskey colored eyes, he had a splatter of beauty marks on his left cheek bone down to his jawbone. On his right wrist he wore a Consort's Bracelet that had jeweled stones the same color as his eyes.

"...they said he's much older than he looks, and that he was once Furniture to Lord Mink but was given to Lord Am as a gift! Lord Am had him fixed."

Katze cringed at the wording of that phrase, no matter how true it might have been.

"...No way! That can't be true!" Exclaimed a ruff accented voice, that belonged to a boy with dark brown eyes and bright golden hair. Who Katze knew to be Katsuya to be the Favored of Seto Kaiba an Elite from the Jade Caste. Katze knew the boy from the many, many, business dinners he had been forced to suffer through. Rauol did a lot of business with the owner of Kaiba Corp.

"That Lord Am's Consort was a Furniture? Yup! Total fact." That voice belonged to Duo Maxwell, Consort of Heero Yui, Commander of the Amoian Armed Forces. Maxwell was thought to be the most beautiful man in all of Midas, with his ankle length auburn gold streaked hair and dark violet eyes. He was also one of the few Manufactured Pets to survive the virus. It had been quite the scandal when Duo had become the Onyx Elite's Consort. Everyone had thought Heero Yui would make his female Favorite, Relena, his consort.

Duo could have quite easily caught the eye of a Blondie and had but in the end he chose Heero Yui.

"But why?" Katsuya asked, "how would a Furniture know to...pleasure...well, anyone?"

"Because he had been in charge of Iason Mink's Pets." Duo said, without any tact.

Katze had heard enough. He stood gaining the young men's attention when he addressed them, "If you are going to talk about someone?" Katze raised an eyebrow causing a red blush to cross Duo's cheeks, "You should made certain they can't hear you."

"I-I meant no disrespect." Duo Sputtered out.

Katze rolled his eyes, no doubt he didn't. But the boy could not be allowed to say what he wanted when he wanted, it was too dangerous still. "I know," Katze told him, "You didn't have enough scorn in your voice for you too. Just be mindful that not every Consort to a Blondie is as forgiving as I am."

Katze gathered his things, pushed his sun shades to the top of his head and walked away leaving Duo gaping at Katze's back while his friends laughed.


Chapter Text

Foxfire-Rotkappchen's Legacy

No Pairing in this part.

Warning: Mentions of an exploding bus. Of dying and coming back to life.

Chapter Three Excerpt :


"...such a brat!" Kira yelled at Stiles as they walked out on to the front porch about to leave for school. All she had done was ask for a ride to school. Kira didn't think it was that big of a deal. They went to the same school after all and she would rather not walk or take the bus... She didn't like school buses after what happened a couple years ago. Watching a bus full of your friends and fellow student die as their bus explodes? Really makes a person avoid getting on one again.

"I'm the brat?" Stiles said incredulously, "Who was it again that shorted out two blocks because she couldn't get her xbox to work?""

"That...that was an accident?" Kira said lamely, but rallied with, "At least I didn't blow up a frozen chicken!"

"Oh, like you weren't as thankful as me," Like it was Stiles fault his powers had been going all wonky lately. It had been happening ever since Derek had left. "If Noshiko had cooked that we would have died from food poisoning!" Stiles shouted.

"Are you implying my mother can't cook!" Kira snapped, though it was the truth. She and her mother had lived on takeout after her father died until they came to live with the Stilinski's.

"Imply? No." Stiles said shaking his head, "State? Yes."

"Oh, how dare you!" Kira said offeneded on her mother's behalf, her eyes started to glow turning bronze in the early morning light as she formed a small ball of ecltricity in her hand to defend her mother's honor with.

"You wanta go, huh?" Stiles snarled countering with his own eyes turning black as a small ball of green fire appeared in his own hand.

"What are you two doing!" Noshiko hissed from the doorway at them, "The neighbors can see you!"

Stiles and Kira had quickly turned at Noshiko's appearance, hiding the balls of elements behind their backs as they both innocently said, "Nothing!"

Noshiko eyed them for a long moment finally said, " Stiles give Kira a ride to school, please." when neigher moved, "Get going!" she exclaimed before going back into the house.

Kira gave Stiles a smirk as she dissipated her element.

"Get in the jeep," Stiles said flatly as he did like Kira and got rid od his elelment.

"I love you, Sempi." Kira said cheekily as she went and got into Stiles blue jeep. Stiles made a face behind her back but followed her.


Stiles set his lunch tray down on the picnic table with the rest of the pack, frowning, it seemed like he just got to school and now it was lunch?

"...Crazy!" Allison said flicking back her short hair.

When had she gotten it cut? Stiles wondered because he could remember.

"Mhh, Hallucinating, sleep paralysis? Yeah," Lydia nodded with a smug look, "you three are just fine."

"We died and came back to life has, like, side effects, right, Stiles?" Scott asked concerned. Stiles only shrugged at him. Just because it had been the second time Stiles had died didn't mean Stiles knew anymore than the others did when it came to this stuff?

"We just need to keep an eye on each other, that's all." Allison said brightly opening her milk, but Stiles could see the doubt in her eyes.

"And Lydia," Stiles drawled out sharply, tossing a mild glare at the strawberry blonde girl, "needs to stop enjoying this so much."

"Huh, uh, and just who had the panic attack in the boy's restroom because he can't read?" Lydia glared back at him, Stiles looked down at the table, " Or is afraid of his own shadow," she looked at Scott, who was staring off to the side, "And can't even hold a paint brush, let alone a bow and arrow," Lydia said to Allison, who stared up at the sky, "because her hands shake too much?"

"So, what happened to people who have near death experiences and comes back to life seeing things?" Isaac asked looking over at Erica, "you're not seeing things, are you?"

Erica looked confused while taking a bite of her red apple.

"Because Stiles brought you back from the dead and all."

Stiles reached across the table and pulled on  a lock of pale green hair turning it into a light lavender color, "Bad puppy," he scolded. Because Erica didn't really remember anything that happened in the white room or when she was mostly dead. She thought it was a dream and Stiles was more than willing to let her believe that.

It meant the less Stiles had to explain.

"And haven't come back with cosmic powers," Scott muttered, "or unable to tell what is real and what isn't."

"While being haunted by visions of dead relatives?" Allison wondered.

"They are all in Eichen House," Stiles mumbled, "because they are cray-cray," he pointed to his head and spinning his finger around.




Chapter Text

BtVS/Xena(The Greek Gods)/Silmarilion/The Hobbit/Lord of the Rings.

Pairings: Ares/Joxer, Yavanna/Aule, Discord/Jett, Eventual Female Xander Harris/ Legolas



After the destruction of her realm Xander and the last of the remaining members of the House of War find sanctuary in Valinor, when the Raptus creatures attack earth. Xander unable to come to terms with the lost of her home realm goes insane and has to be locked up. Time passes and Yavanna as not forgotten her father's champion. In order to save her children Yavanna unleashless a most dangerous creature on to Arda... The Primal Goddess Shakarri....also known as Xander Harris.




Mt. Olympus

The ruins of Hera's Temple

Xander yanked her double-headed battle axe from the elongated head of the vaguely bipedal form. The bronze shiny skeletal armour of the Raptus, had cracked open under the blow. It's sharp scorpion-like tail whipped wildly around in it's death throws. Xander turned the blade of her axe and chopped off the stinger that was coming at her, dodging the spray of acidic blood. They had learned the hard way juts how dangerous the Raptus blood was to even immortals.

That was how they had lost Connor.

Dawn Summers-Angel was never the same after her husband's death.

They had learned that the creatures could also spit venom at it's prey like a spitting cobra. It always had two different types of venom the acid like one and another that incopasatated it's victum. It only used the second at the ones chosen to incubate the Raptus young. It need the host alive for that.

How these things got to Olympus was a mystery. One Xander didn't think she would have the time to solve. She took a deep breath when she heard the scuttling noises of more Raptus. Then she let out an earth shattering roar... That caused the Raptus to freeze, primal terror overcoming them. Xander felt the prickling of the hairs on the back of her neck and a familiar presences as a tall male back pressed against her own.

"The remaining Gods have retreated," Ares, smooth voice washed over Xander. The God of War, sounded defeated , even as he stabbed one of the Raptus that let it's hunger over come it's fear, with his sword. "Joxer was injuried. I sent him with the others. It's over Xander. We've lost this war! We have to leave,'" he said as another creature came towards them. Xander swung her axe at it cutting of it's head, both she and Area dodged the spray of acidic black blood, frowning when two other Raptus fell on their fallen companion consuming it. They watched as the blood ate throw the marble floor as easily as the Raptus ate it's own kind.

"Dawn can't hold the portal to Valinor open for much longer!"

"I'm not leaving her behind!" Xander snarled, fangs exposing her fangs to the god. Dawn being the Key to the Universe could opne portals to anywhere. She just couldn't go through them herself or they would loose stability and she could end up anywhere but where she wanted to go.

Ares had found Valinor many centuries ago and it's one lone god, Eru Iluvatar. When Ares had traveled the Multi-verse when he was younger. He had always kept the idea of the Valinor as a good place for a sanctuary if he need one. Eru had told him he would be welcomed back if he was ever in need. Many of the Gods had of Areas realm had fallen to the Twilight long before the Raptus had invaded their realm.

"I will not be driven out by oversized bug!" Xander shouted, eyes glowing bright green in anger.

"You are my Champion!" Ares roared at her as he shoved his sword into a Raptus chest that was charging at them. "As long as you carry my Battle-Axe, you are bound to the House of War!"

Xander turned to face the dark god, carelessly swinging the axe in a backhanded motion chopping off the tail of a Raptus stopping the stringer from coming at her, "Do you want it back," she asked holding the axe out to Ares.

Area growled bring his sword up over Xander's shoulder, pressing his leather clad chest close to hers as he impaled a Raptus with it, purring into Xander's ear, "Of course not. I just want you to keep your vow to me."

Xander looked up into the dark eyes of the war god, her savior, for he had brought her, Dawn and Connor to Olympus when the last of their families had died. Xander, had been taken as a host for the Primal Goddess Shakarri, all those centuries ago. Dawn being the Key and Connor the immortal human child of two vampires. All three were being who should not have by rights exsisted.

"I can't..."Xander whispered, turning away to face the oncoming hoard of Raptus.

"You'll forgive me for this..."Ares muttered.

"What," was all Xander got out before a sharp pain struck her at the back of the head. Her last thought as everything went black god betrayed me.


Dawn watched as Ares disappeared with the woman she had long since thought of as a sister. Closing the portal after them. Dawn knew she had been left behind knowing that these things could not be allowed to harm another realm. She picked up one of the many abandoned sword in the Hall Of War. Dawn could hear the scuttling noises of the creatures as they came closer to the main hall.

Dawn gave one finally prayer to whatever god left who might have been listening, tightened her grip on the sword...and waited for the Raptus to come for her.



Xander's awaking was painful as she sat up taking in the unfamiliar stonewalls around her. She saw Strife, the God of Mischief, his cold blue eyes looking warily around them, his face pale and his dark hair laying flat for once. Strife's leathers were eaten way in spots from Raptus blood. He stood guard over the winged love god, Cupid and his young so Bliss. Cupid looking no better that Strife. The scars from Raptus blood bright red on Cupid's chest. Discord paced like a black leather clad lioness as her consort Jett, (one of Joxer's brothers) sat nearby flipping a dagger end over end and catching it by the hilt, glaring at anyone who came to close to any of the remaining members of the House of War.

Xander saw Ares in deep conversation with a god that had long shoulder length blond hair and cold dark eyes that took in everything. He was clothed much like the warrior kings of old leather armour covered by silk robes.  A woman, no, a goddess stood next to him, her long riotous curly brown-blonde hair fell down to her waist and her eyes were pale in color not quite blue or gray, they glowed like starlight. She wore a simple white silk toga dress. But people were beautiful in only the way gods and goddess were...otherworldly so.

"Where's Joxer?" Xander asked when she didn't see him. The God of Peace was never far from Ares side.

"My other father," Yavanna, her bright red locks of hair a tangled mess, her face ghostly white and her brown eyes red-rimmed. Yavanna's red and green fighting leathers were as blood streaked and dirt as everyone else, "is with the Healer."

"Where are we?" Xander asked but in the pit of her stomach she knew...


At the whispered word, Xander let out a scream of rage and sorrow that shook the very walls of the hall. The members of the House of War closed ranks around the greiving goddess because they each owed more to Xander Harris than they could ever pay. The least they could do was guard her grief from the eyes of others, as Yavanna wrapped her arms around the screaming goddess.


Chapter One

Yavanna, last of the Grecian Godds of the Forgotten Realm, wife to Aule, stood looking down over the edge of the balcony in the Mansions of her husband, down at the black abyss that plagues all of Valinor. The abyss wasa constant reminder of Melkor's betrayal. It was an unnatural thing that feed Melkor power as it caused discontent among the Valar. Melkor's hate for his fellow gods was well known.

If only Aule had found beauty in Meklor's creations, things would have been very different, Yavanna thought. Would there have been harmony? Or would things be worse with Aule entranced by the dark god? Thankful Aule had found Melkor's creation ugly and the way of the world was the way it was.  The Valar, Yavanna's adopted siblings feared Melkor and his sway over their mortal creations. For though they didn't like to admit it, those creations were...flawed. Starting with the Children of Iluvatar and ending with Yavanna's own. The others had tried to convince Melkor they weren't but Melkor took great joy in proofing them wrong. Yavanna had tried to warn her siblings but they rarely listene to her unless she was in a rage.

Never was it more obvious she was her father's daughter than when Yavanna's was temper was aroused. Sometimes Yavanna wondered if she should have married Melkor instead of Aule. If she could have stooped the dark gods fall by choosing him. Yavanna turned away from the abyss knowing that to stare to long into it would bring nothing but madness.

Melkor's hate for the Valr was not unfounded. He Had been ill treated by them. Even by Aule, (the worse of the offenders for all that he had loved Melkor truly. He had married Yavanna.) who had found an equal who shared the love of creating that few of the other Valar shared. The slap in the face came when Yavanna was named caretaker of the lands of Arda. A place created by the trails and errors of Melkor and Aule. Melkor, Yavanna knew, had seen Arda as his and Aule's alone. Then the other Valar had demanded their share of the lands. The Earth Goddess understood well the insult Melkor. It was one she felt ever time the other Valar abuses the lands of Arda for their amusement.

Yavanna walked down a long hallway, passing doors that led to other places in her husband's Mansions, doors that led to the Halls of the other Valar. She wondered why the paradises of MEN, Elf, Dawrrow and Hobbit were separated? They were not so separated on Arda, though many tried. Yavanna wondered what happened to those few, who had learned to work, had friendships and even loves among a race that was not their own?

Were they alone in the thereafter?

I must look in to that, Yavanna thought. It wasn't until she came to a doorway that led to her gardens that she saw it. The plain wooden door with an iron lock and handle. The ivy from her garden entrance had grown over the stonewalls and around the door framing it. She knew what was behind that door. Though many of the other Valar didn't know or remember. It was one of the few secrets her fathers had shared with her before going into the Twilight to join their own families there. One day she would go into Twilight as well, she wondered what would happen to her husband. If he would be allowed to join her?

Yavanna shook the depressing thoughts away. Still staring at he door, she had been told never to open it. Covertly she looked around as she dug a plain iron key on a chain from under the neckline of her green dress. She touched the door handle, the iron was oddly warm under her touch.

"I would not do that. If I were you, my lady."

The male voice startled her into letting go of the door handle, She turned to look at the man who spoke, he was tall with a warriors build, darkly tanned skin covered his bare chest but for the dark ornate tattoos that covered the tops of his shoulders and decorating the front of his chest, to Yavanna eyes, in pleasing designs. He also wore an axe harness, the leather straps crossed of his chest. His long dark hair fell down his back, the sum of it held out of his face by small elegant braids. The scuff of his bread was neatly trimmed but for a single thin braid on his chin, the end of it touched the middle of his breastbone. Though it was his deep, dark blue eyes that Yavanna thought were the Stone God's best feature.

It had been the kindness in them that convinced her to marry him, all those centuries ago.

Aule stood a few feet away from the earth goddess leaning against the wall, frowning at her deeply.

"It's a good thing I'm not you then." Yavanna said sharply as she glared at her husband.

"Ares, your father-"

"I know who he was, you great oaf!"

Aule ignored her and continued, "He told you never to open that door. Not unless we face a great evil."

Yavanna gave him a bewildered look. Just what did he think this was? "Melkor turned on the Valar, Aule! He had Sauron create those horrid rings of power and those Orc's Melkor made are just unnatural," she shuddered as she muttered the name of the foul creations, "Darkness is slowly creeping over Arda! Now my Hobbits, my children, Aule! My children are in danger! Manwe said because they are pure of heart they will be useful in the up coming fight! My Hobbits were not made to fight. I'll not have it, husband! I simple won't."

Aule looked a upon his lady-wife, her skin was close to chalk white and she had dark rings under her eyes from lack of rest. As an earth goddess she reflected the plight of the lands of Arda. It had been centuries since she looked so sick not since his Dwarrow almost minded Arda to death. He sighed, "Do you even you what is behind that door? Because I don't. Whatever your father's entrapped there could be more dangerous than Melkor. It could be the thing that destroys us all!"

"Or she could save us!"

"She?" Aule asked, confused.

 Yavanna paided him no mind as she pulled the chain from her neck, placed the key into the lock turning it until she heard a small click, then pushed down on the door handle.

"My wife?"

Yavanna paused turning to look at her husband.

"Are you sure this is the path you wish to tread?"

Not really.  Though Yavanna said,"Yes, husband," pushing open the door and walking through it.

Aule heaved a sigh before following after his wife  though the door.

Aule lit a torch that was on the wall by the entrance of the room. One by one the other torches came to life, the flickering flames cast shadows on the stone walls. In the corner of the room Aule saw only the darkness of the room until the glittering reflected green of glowing eyes could be see in the shadows. Picking a torch off the wall he walked closer, keeping Yavanna behind him, much too his wife's dismay.

Slowly the figure of a woman was revealed to them. A naked woman... Her lips were drawn back in a snarl showing off her shiny white fangs that barely touch her bottom lip. Her hair was long, almost falling past her knees, black as onyx from the top of her head to her jawline the color shifted to a brownish-dirty blonde with darker brown  and black spots running though it. A collar of heavy iron was around her neck with thick ropes of chains leading to the wall behind her binding her to it. From her shoulders to her fingers she had fur of the same coloration as her hair, at the tips of her fingers she had small but sharp looking black claws. Her face, neck breasts and belly had lightly tanned skin , though pale from not having see the sun. She was also furred from hip to knee but the calves of her legs and feet were bare.

Someone had not wanted this woman to leave this room, Aule thought. Because of the strong spells he could sense from the chains. Magic like that was older than he was...perhaps even older than his siblings. Older than even his wife's magic.

"Who," the woman coughed, voice horse from lack of use, "Who dares to enter my  prison?"

"Xander," Yavanna whispered shocked.





Chapter Text


Pairing Stiles Stilinski/Kurt Hummel


Plot :

Stiles Stilinski survived All that Beacon Hills had thrown at him. Werewolves, Assassins, Chimeras...Kate Argent. But when he received news about the death of Derek Hale? Stiles wondered what the point of it was all for? There really were no happy endings for...anyone. Now in New York for the reading of Derek's will. Stiles met someone who just might change his life, forever. If Stiles can learn to put the past away and open his heart again and ...hear the music of love once more.

Kurt Hummel wonders why, why his life sucks so bad? His last boyfriend turned out to an Alpha werewolf that had bitten Kurt then tried to kill him! Kurt didn't want to worry about the full moon, not when he had a big part in an upcoming musical on Broadway! Kurt could see his dreams slipping away. Spilling his coffee on the really cute guy with the sad whiskey eyes was just an omen. But if Kurt was lucky enough to avoid the hunters and smart enough to accept the help Whiskey Eyes was offering?

Maybe Kurt and Stiles would find the love they both had been longing for?

Chapter Text

Smallville/Teen Titans

Pairing: Clark Kent/Lexa Luthor

Pre: Tim Drake/Kon-El (maybe?)

Warning: Insults to Wonder Girl


Tim Drake wondered once more why he had chosen this life?  He picked himself up off the ground, shaking his head to clear it. Today had started with a fight with his dad that caused him to be late for school. Which led to a detention that led to a fight with Bruce.

Kon going insane was just the cherry of his day. Tim sighed. He should have known something was wrong with Kon a lot sooner. Because there was no way Kon-El would have ever willingly shaved his head. Kon was much too vain about his looks to risk damaging his image.

It was strange though at how much Kon, without his hair, looked like the male version of Lexa Luthor that had shown up a few months ago. (Tim didn't even want to remember the chaos that caused) Even though Kon was suppose to be a clone of Superman. But Tim had a few theories about that.

Really, they should have been paying attention.

Starfire went flying over his head after she had been thrown by Kon. Tim had tried to talk to Kon but he didn't seem to be in the mood for conversation. That was a shocker, Tim thought. Wonder Girl was Slammed into a wall of a nearby building. Tim winced, Cassie was going to make Kon pay for that later. Beast Boy was the next to go down, and was smart enough to stay down. 

Tim rolled his eyes, guess it's up to me to save the day...but how?

In the end Tim did what any good sidekick does when they get in over their head. It's why he radioed an SOS to the Watchtower for Superman or Wonder Woman's help. They were the only ones strong enough to take on Kon.

So, Tim, was a bit surprised when a black porche pulled up with a screech of it's tires and a beautiful, older woman in a emerald green business suit with bright crimson hair, stepped out of the car. It took Tim a moment to recognize the  her expression as on of concern. 

Most SuperVillians were not concerned for the heroes. 

Tim watched as Luthor touched the collar of her jacket and when she spoke her voice was ampilified as if she spoke through a megaphone.  She yelled out a phrase, that Tim was sure was Greek.

It caused Kon to slow his assault on Cyborg but not stop.

"So, Luthor, is behind this?" Wonder Girl asked pushing out of the rumble of the wall standing up shakily.

"I don't think..." Starfire said walking over to Tim and Wonder Girl.  Luthor screamed out another phrase of Greek at Kon causing him to freeze like a statue.

"...Stop, Kon?" Tim finished.

Luthor ran up to the frozen Superboy, touching her collar again, before she whispered right in to Kon's ear. Whatever she said made Kon's eyes roll back in his head and he fell forward. Luthor tried to catch him but his size and momentum took them both  to the ground.

Wonder Girl rushed over to the red haired woman, who had put Kon's head in her lap. Luthor gently stroked Kon's newly regrown black hair from his forehead. Luthor growled, "Back off, you blonde bimbo."

The blonde girl looked torn between being insulted  or happy that the Villianess had noticed her enough to insult her. Tim did know that if Cassie opened her mouth Luthor would have the young Amazon kill on principal. When Tim got over to Cassie he elbowed her in the ribs to keep her from speaking. He hoped his expression was respectful and didn't show how scared shitless he was. Bruce had always told Tim to never go up against Luthor on his own or, well, ever in fact.

"Ms. Luthor," he started.

"I am not handing Kon over to Miss Breasts over there." Luthor said with a glare at the blonde girl. Cassie huffed crossing her arms under her breasts...which, yeah, didn't help her look less like a dumb blonde.

Tim nodded slowly, frowning. He was missing something. The few times the Teen Titians had met Luthor she had seemed more interested in Kon, always singling him out to speak too. Which, Tim, though it had to do with Kon being Superman's clone. Tim had knew the rumors surrounding Luthor and Superman about that.

But the way Luthor was acting now?

"Then give him to me," Tim told Luthor softly, She frowned at him as she gave him a long look. Okay, that wasn't going to be enough. "He's my friend..." Luthor's eyes turned cold, fast. Tim could almost feel the drop in the temperature around them. "My best friend." Please let that convince her... It didn't seem like it was going to work. Luthor didn't look like she was going to give up Kon.  From Cassie's expression, Tim thought the girl might try and just take Kon.

Tim so did not want to be in the middle if that happened. He breathed a sigh of relief when Superman landed near them. At least he was relieved until another black car pulled up and two more women got out. They were dressed in black business suits one was blonde the other a brunette. Hope and Mercy, Luthor's bodyguards.

Luthor let out a curse when she saw them but to Tim said, "Make sure you take him to the Watchtower and that all of the hypnotic suggestions are removed. This will not happen again." She moved Kon off of her and Tim took her place.

Luthor started toward her bodyguards but Superman stepped in front of her and they had a quick but low conversation. Tim watched with wide eyes as Mercy looked irritated as Hope pulled out her gun.

"NO, CLARK!" Luthor yelled harshly.

Which was bad, right? That the super villain knew Superman's secret indentity? But if she didn't know Superman's secrets by now? Luthor wouldn't be a very good villain, now would she?

Luthor shoved Superman away from her. Which only worked because Superman was floating a few inches off the ground

"No, I've had enough! Kon never should have..."Luthor started but lowered her voice and Tim couldn't hear whatever she said that brought should a dark look to Superman's face. 

"Miss Luthor!" Hope yelled.

"Boss!" Mercy yelled.

Both Luthor and Superman gave the two women the same dark glare. Marcy came up to Luthor and tried to pull her away from Superman only for Luthor to shake Mercy off her hard causing the woman to stumble. The surprised expression on Mercy's face would have had Tim laughing if he hadn't been so worried about Kon.

"Go back to the cars." Luthor told her bodyguards.

"But Boss?" Marcy started.

"Now Mercy!" Mercy made a face but sis as ordered stomping over to Luthor's porche while Hope went back to the car they had arrived in.

Luthor faced Superman once more, "I've had enough of his games...He...Kon was not suppose too..." Luthor seemed lost for words for a moment but said softly, "He touched that which is sacred. He broke the convenant he made with us."

Superman nodded as if that made any sense. Which to be fair? It probably did since Superman seemed to know what she mean. If his nod, to her was anything to go by.

Luthor turned walking towards her porche and got in it, driving off with Mercy as Hope followed him in the other car.

Superman went over to Tim, he knelt down next to them, a soft worried look on his face as he looked at Kon. "Let's get Kon-El back to the Watchtower."

Tim nodded. Superman picked Kon up cradling him, like Kon was a child,to his chest, before taking off into the sky.

Tim knew something was going on with Superman and Lexa Luthor. He wondered just how Kon was the center of it.

Well, it was a good thing, he was a detective, huh?

Chapter Text

Teen Wolf-Omegaverse

Werewolves are known

Pairing: Stiles/Derek


Omega Stiles Stinlinski had been refused by every Alpha in Beacon Hills or so he thought until a Courtship Bracelet arrived at the Stilinski's door delivered by Alpha Talia Hale.

Alpha Derek Hale had refused every Omega in Beacon Hills or so he thought, until he bumped into a mouthy young omega coming out of a book store. Derek knew this was his Omega. So he did what all good werewolves do. He send a courting gift to the Omega, by his mother, his own pack's alpha to explain his intentions to his intended.

Stiles didn't know whether to be flattered or insulted. No one Courted or got Courted anymore. Just because this Alpha was doing things differently than Stiles was use too? didn't mean Stiles was going to make this easy. After all there was a reason that Stiles was still unmated at he great age of nineteen.

Stiles was the most difficult Omega in Beacon Hills



"Stiles! Get your butt down here!" Sheriff Zane Stilinski shouted, he winced at the look Talia shot him. A blush crossed the man's face. He seemed glad when a couple of minutes later his son stumble down the stairs and into the living room.

"What, Dad?"

The Sheriff sighed at the resigned tone Stiles had in his voice, "You have a visitor," he motioned to Talia. Stiles eye widened when he saw her, "This is Alpha Talia Hale, of the Hale Pack."

Talia stepped forward and handed the small box she was holding to Stiles. He took it with a bored expression. One would think an Omega of his advancing years, that he would be more excited about being Courted-

"What the hell is this?" Stiles asked looking confused.

The Sheriff whined and covered his face as he sat down on the sofa, shaking his head.

"It's a Courting Gift." Talia told him, though he should have known that, "One of my children has expressed a desire to court you."

"Stiles titled his head to the side, "Who?"

That was a fair question Talia did have six children of courting age, "Derek."

The confused became dumbfound, "Which one is he?"


Chapter Text


Pairing: Arthur Pendragon/Merlin

Warning: Talking owls


After Arthur's death, Merlin traveled for many years. He has seen how the world changed, the rise and fall of nations, have happened while Merlin stays the same. Finally wanting to settle down again Merlin comes to the small town of Albion where he moves into Kamelot Condos.(The irony is not lost on Merlin.) And meets some familiar faces.

The tenants of the condos are welcoming and friendly...sometimes too friendly, Merlin thinks. But over all things are going well for him. His knew Book series is popular, Merlin's magic sparks under his skin in a way it hadn't since Arthur was alive.

When the owner of the condo complex shows up...he's handsome and kind as well as an arrogant...clod pole! He flirts with Merlin! The weird thing is? He looks just like Arthur! If that wasn't bad enough, Merlin has to deal with a reappearing sword, a talking grumpy baby owl and a slightly jealous Lady of the Lake...(pool, really.)



Merlin was trying to juggle his messenger's bag, his dinner and Archimedes cage as he reached into his pocket for his keys to his new home. He managed to get his keys out of his pocket when the owl's cage slipped out of his hand. Merlin flinched at the thought of the cage hitting the ground with the baby owl inside of it.

"Oh," Merlin said in surprise when the cage was caught by a strong man hand. Merlin's eyes trailed up the strong arm to the man's face. He bright blue eyes and sun-colored hair. Merlin watched in amusement as the man cooed, causing the baby gray owl to squawk grumpily as it glared out from between the bars of the cage. The man glanced up at Merlin, shrugging with a chagrined look, he straightened and held out a hand,

"Arthur Penn."

Merlin smiled in return, "Merlin Emerson. Thanks for grabbing Archimedes. If the cage had hit the floor I never would have heard the end of it."

"No problem," Arthor said bringing up the cage to eye level, staring at the owl, who blinked wide golden eyes at him. Before asking the question, "Merlin ? Really?  Well, now the set is complet."

What?" Merlin asked confused.

"I'm Arthur, your Merlin, and we have a Lancelot-he's the building manager and his wife's name is Guinevere. There are also an assortment of Knights of the Round Table roaming-" Arthur was cut off,

"Yo, Princess!"

Arthur handed Merlin back the owl's cage with a sigh as he rolled his eyes, "What do you want," he asked the very good looking man with longish dark hair and eyes, "Green? Can't you see-"

"Oh, I see, Penn!" Green came stomping over to Arthur grabbing him by the arm, "You are late. You do remember your hosting the meeting this time?"

"Of course I remember, Gwaine."

It...couldn't be? Merlin thought, unsure.

Over the centuries Merlin had met people named after those he had known in Camelot. It was never them though. Merlim looked at Arthur and Gwaine...It had been so very long ago since he had seen...So many times Merlin had thought he had met or found one of his friends...but it was never them. Merlin didn't trust his memory anymore when it came to that. Merlin had been wrong too many times in the past.

Arthur gave Merlin a wan smile as Gwaine dragged him away. Merlin thought he heard Gwaine say, "...You would be the one to find him, Princess."

Merlin only shook his head. He unlocked his door and went into his apartment, dropping his bag by the door. He put his dinner on the kitchen table then hung up Archimedes cage.

"Well, this should be an interesting place to live," he told the owl, who only glared at him in reply, "Oh, you're not still mad at me, are you? It wasn't my fault. I didn't know it would take so long to get you through customs!"

Archimedes blinked at Merlin before, "You are a shit wizard," a cockney accent came form the owl's beak, "He'll save us, they said. Most powerful warlock of our time, they said." The baby owl narrowed his eyes at Merlin, "You couldn't pull a rabbit out of a hat if the rabbit was already in the hat, you charlatan!"

"Gee, Archimedes, tell me how you really feel." Merlin muttered going over to the table and opening his diner, it was Chineses food. Merlin liked Chinese food. He had spent a lot of time in china.

Archimedes, his expression even grumpier than before, something Merlin didn't think was possible since Archimedes was always grumpy, "I think you deserve what's coming."

"Why did I think giving you the ability to talk would be a good thing?" Merlin asked mostly to himself, "Disney lied. Talking animals are bothersome."

"Oi! Just see how bothersome I an when you need my wisdom!"

Merlin sighed as he shoved some rice into this mouth with his chopsticks. He wondered how hard it would be to get rid of a talking owl?

"...and what are you going to do about that thing?" Archimedes asked cocking his head to the side. Merlin's eyes followed the action and to across the room. To where a sword with an ornate jeweled hilt and an other worldly glow, leaned there as arrogantly as Merlin knew it's master would have...



Chapter Text

Teen Wolf/Naruto

Pairing: Stiles/Derek

Warning: Child abuse



What if the Nogitsune never left Stiles. What if Stiles and Derek went back in time to Konoha to protect one of the Nogitsune's kits? And that kit turned out to be Naruto Uzumaki? What if they raised Naruto? How would the people and clans of the Hidden Village react?



Stiles growled wordlessly at the sight of the crying blonde four year old child in the middle of the busy street of thevillage. Stiles had promised Derek that he wouldn't make waves, to try and fit into their new home. But let's face it. Stiles had never even fit into Beacon Hills and it was weird central there. He couldn't stand to watch as the villagers ignored the child anymopre. Stiles started forward, one of the village men cruelly shoved the kid, causing the boy to fall to the ground and cover his head as if he knew a blow was coming.

Stiles grabbed the man by the arm just as he started to hit the boy, mid-swing, "You may want to rethink that action, friend." Stiles hissed coldly, not realizing his eyes flared a dark orange as he spoke making the village man cringe away from Stiles, "you don't hit children!"

The village man sneered, "How will this beast learn his place otherwise?"

"Beast?" Stiles asked confused, "This is no beast," pointing to the boy, who's sobs had slowed down as he looked at Stiles with wide blue eyes, curiously, "Or animal, he's a child!" 

"It's a container for a fox demon, nothing more," the villager hissed, yanking his arm away from Stiles, "you won't earn any friends here by defending that thing. Being new to the village as you are, does not give you the right to disrespect our ways!"

Stiles barely heard the man.

Fox demon. Fox demon.

Was the only thing going through Stiles mind, He quickly walked over to the boy, leaving the villager sputtering behind him. Stiles knelt down in front of the kid, who was a demon container, a host to a demon like Stiles had been before he and the Nogitsune had merged, "What is your name, kid?"

"Naruto," the boy whispered, rubbing a hand over his eyes to wipe away his tears, "I think? or is it Demon?" the boy shrugged, "I donna know?" He looked up a t Stiles, he had scars on both of his cheeks making him look like he had a set of whiskers like a cat or... fox. The kid was also dirty, his clothes close to being rags and he had no shoes.

But it was the hopeless look in Naruto's eyes that got to Stiles, that expression in them said the world was out to get him and the boy knew it. It was a look Stiles was familiar with he saw it every day in Derek's eyes.

"Naruto? I'm Stiles." Stiles let his eyes glow dark orange, letting a bit of the fox out as he asked, "How would you like to go hime with me? To be my son?"

A look of awe and want came over Naruto's face a the word 'home' then Naruto looked away, "I-I-I-d-d-don't th-think the Hok-hok-the boss person of the village would like that," Naruto finished in a sad whisper, shoulders slumping.

Stiles picked Naruto up and began walking to the Hokage's Tower. No, what the Hokage wouldn't like was what Stiles would do if the Hokage denied Stiles request to adopt the kid. No doubt, Derek would be upset at the property damage that would ensue.  He looked down at Naruto who had closed his eyes and leaned his head trustingly against Stiles shoulder.

Kit! My kit, our kit! The fox in the back of Stiles mind growled out.

"Yes," Stiles whispered, "my kit," his eyes flared dark orange with his words as he continued to the tower.

Chapter Text

Title: Into The Pack: Coyote Cries

Series: Rotappchen's Legacy- (if you read this series make sure to read the warnings!!!)

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Warnings: Child bit by wild animal, blood from the bite.


Plot: In the last few months since Stiles stopped William Barrow things have changed. Allison and Isaac broke up with Scott to date just each other, Scott was elevated to Alpha status with Deaton's help. Kira is learning what it means to be a kitsune and having Stiles as a step-brother hasn't been easy either. Stiles is trying to figure out why his Witchborn abilities are going wonky on him. Into this mix comes the feral girl, Malia Tate, who has spent the last eight years as a coyote in the Beacon Hills Nature Preserve.





The ten year girl turned at the sound of her father's voice, she brushed her long wild dirty blonde hair from her face, looking back at him.

"Don't go past the fence, alright? Those woods are dangerous," he grinned at her, "to little girls who go exploring."

Malia grinned back, "Okay, Dad," she called back before skipping towards the fence as her father focused back on the large metal traps she and her younger sister, Flora, were not allowed to touch. Malia didin't like them, they looked scary, sharp, and mean. Like shark's teeth. Malia waited until she was sure that her father wasn't paying attention to her before slipping through the planks of the wooden fence and quickly running into the woods to her favorite spot. She had found it with the new friend she had made last week. He talked a lot but he was nice to her, He had even given her his pudding cup at lunch the other day and hadn't asked for anything in return.

The spot was a clearing in the woods with a big stump in it. Wildflowers grew at the edge of the clearing. Malia liked to watch the rabbits hop about as they ate the grass. Once she was sure she had even seen a fox. You could have a tea party on the stump, Malia thought, I wonder if- she frowned when she noticed how late it had got. The shadows of the trees were dark and long. It was so quiet, not even the animal noises she was use to could be heard. When the woods go silent in a movie or TV show, Malia thought, bad things happen.

At the sound of the bushes moving Malia froze in fear, in her spot by the stump. A small brown mouse ran from under the bushes. Malia let out a sigh of relief. She turned and Screamed at the sight of a dog-looking animal with brightly glowing blue eyes, the creature growled warningly at her showing off sharp white teeth. Malia slowly backed away, getting about a foot way from it before the dog-thing lunged at her. Malia dodged to the side and tried to run but didn't get far before she was knocked down. She felt the animal's teeth gaze her arm as she crawled away from it. Malia felt a sharp pain at her upper thigh, she screamed in pain as the animal shook it's head sinking it's teeth in deeper as it tried to drag Malia deeper into the woods.

Suddenly a gun shot rang out through the forest and the animal gave a startled yelp of pain, dropping Malia from it's jaws. Malia was so happy to see her father a few feet away.

"You are not taking my daughter, Coyote," her father said, cocking the rifle in his hands, the creature growl loud and menacingly at him, "She's not yours! I don't care about the deal we made. Malia is my daughter!"

The creature stared at her father for a long moment before turning and disappearing quickly into the woods.

"Are you alright?" Her father asked, worriedly, running up to her, "Did it bite you?"

Malia nodded, tears running down her face, she showed him where it had bitten her. Her father picked her up. she buried her face in his shoulder, "What was that thing, Daddy?"

"Nothing," her father said, looking warily around the woods, "just... a coyote." He carried her back towards their house. As she looked over his shoulder Malia thought she saw glowing blue eyes watching them from the underbrush of the forest.



Chapter Text


Fandom: Teen Wolf/BtVS/(Dr. Who Inspired)

Pairings: Stiles Stilinski/Xander Harris/Derek Hale

Tags: Female Xander Harris



Stiles Stilinski thought that werewolves, hunters, other supernatural creatures and getting out of high school alive were his biggest problems. Turns out those are easy. Time Travel on the other hand? That's hard. Especially when it comes in the shapely form of one Xander Harris.

A time travel with a mysterious past and who was not very forth coming with how she knew Stiles or what she was to him.Stiles wasn't sure if he could trust her or not. (He was leaning towards not.)

And if a sassy time traveler wasn't enough? Stiles had to deal with a Hunter's version of the Cybermen created by a descendant of the Argents(Cause why not?)that had been sent back in time to kill every supernatural creature in Beacon Hills.

And of course Stiles has to figure out where Derek Hale fits into all of this.


Stiles is the Doctor.

Xander is River Song.

And Derek is Rory.

(But not really.)

Chapter Text

Fandom: Xena/Hercules

Pairing: Ares/Joxer, OMC/OFC

Warnings: Mentions of Rape

Tags: Genderswap/Genderbending


With one heroic act Joxer saved a young woman from the god Apollo. The Sun God enraged by the lost of the woman decided that Joxer's punishment should be to become the replacement for her. Turned out Apollo has some nasty plans in the works and was going to make the young woman Joxer saved into a goddess so she could bare Apollo's children. This is what Apollo did to Joxer.

Joxer in a panicked state used his new born godly powers to escape Apollo.

And ended up outside of the Temple of War in Thrace...


Chapter One Excerpt

Ancient Greece

The City of Delphi

"...Damn it!" Joxer muttered walking through the streets of Delphi, the chest pieces of his armor clanking together annoyingly. He should really replace it with something better but he liked the fact that because of it people underestimated him. True, he wasn't the best warrior but compared to fighters like his brother, Jett, and people like Xena and Hercules. Who would be?

Joxer had been so disappointed that he had missed the Festival of Dionysus. Joxer had heard that the orgies that the Wine God threw were better than the ones that took place in Aphrodite's temples. He had been hoping to parsitapate and lose his virginity. It was distressing to be almost twenty-four and never have had a lover of either gender. Sure, he thought he was in love with Gabrielle... no, he was. But the feelings always seemed to fade when he wasn't around her. Yet, he was planning to court her to see if there was something really there...he hoped so.

Of course, if that didn't work out there was always Meg. Though for all of Meg's talk? Joxer was pretty sure Meg didn't like physical affection. Mef had flinched the last time Joxer had just given the Xena-look-a-like a hug.

This trip might not be a complete lost. He could just go see the Oracle...

Joxer of Corinth,

You travel a path filled with danger and...choices. Save not the maiden, for the Sun will betray you. Great change comes for you but fear not War or Discord, and Love will find a way. Trust in the Stone and the Wolf to guide you, With Tranquity, peace will come to Olympus.

... Joxer left the Oracles' temple more confused about his future than when he went in. Joxer wondered if it was like that for everyone  who wanted a glimpse of their future? Luckily for Joxer, the whole reason he came to Delphi had nothing to do with maidens. In fact a maiden was kind of not what he was looking for, Joxer was shaken form his thoughts at he sight of two men in the bright slightly gaudy gold robes that all of Apollo's priests wore. They were dragging a young, pretty blonde girl between them. She was crying and begging to be let go, let me go, no I don't want to be Apollo's bride!

"What is going on?" Joxer wondered.

It was an old woman standing next to him that answered him, "Bad business that. Those girls kept getting younger, very few years."

Frowning, Joxer asked, "What?"

"Apollo," the old woman sneered the name like it was something foul, "every few years chooses a girl from Delphi to be sacrificed to him at dusk."

"They'll kill her?" Joxer asked surprised, human sacrifice was rare though the gods did ask for it if they were truly angered.

The old woman laughed coldly, "If only. No, her fate is much worse. The god will take her. Apollo will ruin her. As he has countless others. The poor thing won't be able to stand a man's touch once he gets through with her."

"You mean he'll..."Joxer trailed off not even able to think it. He knew many of the gods thought nothing of forcing their pleasures on a mortal. He heard the stories...but they had been just that stories. Not mention he had met several god/goddess in his travels with his friends. For what he had seen? None of them would ever have to force a mortal to bed them.

No one had the right to violate the one things that truly belong to a mortal. Their body. That's what Joxer believed anyway.

"Yes," the old woman stated.

"How..."Joxer swallowed hard," How do you know?"

"Because thirty ago- I was her," the old woman bitterly, before she walked away back into the crowd.

Joxer looked up at the sun, he glanced back at the priests dragging the girl into Apollo's temple. It was two hours until dusk. He was enough time to come up with a plan.

Wasn't it?


Chapter Text

Title: Peace And Retribution

Fandom: Xena/Hercules/BtVS/Teen Wolf

Pairings: Established Xander Harris/Stiles Stilinski, Ares/Joxer

Warning: Off Screen character death

Tag: Female Xander Harris


Xander Harris and Stiles Stilinski Champions of War and Peace get sent back to Ancient Greece to stop the Enemy from gaining a foot hold in their realm. In order to do this? Peace and Retribution must come to Olypmus. Xander and Stiles have to decide wheather or not to become Justice and Redemption.

For Dahak must be stopped!


Chapter one Excerpt:

We're losing, Ares thought as he shoved the Sword of War through the oblong bronze colored head of the Raptus, it collapsed in a heap of long double jointed limbs. Ares narrowly escaped being stabbed by the creatures long scorpion like tale, it's silver metal teeth a grimace in it's death throws. Ares was careful to avoid the acidic salivate that pooled out of it's mouth. They have learned the hard way that  this thing could not only tear through humans like paper but could even use gods to reproduce by...that was how they had lost young Bliss and his consort. Ares looked around the battlefield. Olympus was not faring well. Fires and smoke were coming out of every temple. His once proud makeshift Pantheon was dying before his eyes and there was nothing he could do about it.

The Raptus were just foot soldiers of the greater enemy.


The foul foreign god had escaped his prison.

Ares! Help us! He's here!

Came the scream of Ares's own consort, in his head.

I can't hold him back for long!

That was the voice of his champion.

Ares quickly scanned the battle field in search of..."Stiles! My temple!" He shouted at the other Champion.

"Go! I'll cover you!" The Champion of Peace yelled as he slammed his katana throw the sternum of a Raptus.

Ares ran towards his temple, the sky over Olympus turned dark and menacing, thunder boomed over head and lightening flashed in varying shades of white-azure-to crimson. Ares slammed into a stone pillar when the earth under his feet heaved up wards, he grabbed it for balance, blowing a lock of salt-n-pepper colored hair from his face. I'm too old for this shit, he thought, tightening his grip on the Sword of War, he straightened the vest of his battle leather. Kavlar was a wonderful invention.

A sudden striking pain hit his head and heart, the whisper of a farewell, as thunder clashed and it began to rain like tears falling from the grief that hit Ares in the moment. His consort? The love of his life...his peace... Peace was gone from Olympus!

Ares drew in a shaky breath, he couldn't think about that now... He made his way into his the main chamber of his temple to see his Champion laying in a crumpled heap, blood pooling around her that was slowly getting bigger. Ares dropped to his knees next to her, pulling the bleeding woman to her. Her battle leathers were torn and scorned but she was alive...for the moment.

"Xander!" Ares said. Xander opened her eyes to slits, only to reveal green glow from them.

"M-my l-lo-lord," she choked out, blood running from her mouth.

"No," Ares muttered, "you are not dying on me!"

The doors to the chamber flew open and the Champion of Peace came running in, he tripped and basically slid on his knees over to them, "My wife?"

"She's dying, Stiles... We're all dying." Ares growled as he gently transferred the young woman into her husbands arms. Ares summoned his goblet, it was a pretty thing made of silver and onyx, he willed it full of ambrosia.

"I-I-" Xander coughed, "Couldn't st-op..."confessing.

"No, shush. Save your strength," Stiles whispered in to her dark hair, kissing her forehead.

"St-Stiles? Sti-lies I-I-lo-lov-"

"I know, Wonder Woman,  I know." Stiles told her shooting Ares a pleading glance.

"Sit her up," Ares Said to Stiles, "She had to drink," Stiles did as ordered. Xander's head rested on Stiles shoulder. Ares put the goblet to her lips. Xander tried to shake her head, refusing. Something Ares was not going to let happen. "Now is not the time to be stubborn, my Champion. I have a plan but I need you alive for it."

"Don't wa-"

"I'm sorry Xander but the choice is not longer yours." Ares said grabbing her by the back of the neck and forcing the goblet to her mouth. She had to drink or choke. Xander glared up at him but the god could tell the Ambrosia was already working. Xander's wounds healed at a fast rate, a soft golden glow came to her skin, her normally brown eyes were now the color of ice tinged with glowing emerald. Ares will the goblet full once more and held it out to Stiles.


"I don't need-"

"You are a two hundred year old kitsune that won't live to see his thousandth, "Ares snarled, " where I'm about to send you with this!" For a moment he thought the Champion of Peace would disobey but Stiles took the goblet and drank deeply from it. Stiles had always been able to see the bigger picture.

"As the world chose now to make me and Xander gods? Why?" Stiles asked, his once whiskey colored eyed now the same icy like color as his wife's but with a deep royal purple tinge to them. Ares said nothing for a moment as he send the goblet away with a thought. With another he brought forth a round amulet with his symbol on it. He placed it around Stiles neck.

"This contains all of my memories, I call it Arcane. When you and Xander get before my younger self? It will confirm that I sent you back. Just call it by name to activate it. You have to be gods because  none of my family would ever believe a mortal with the story you will tell them. Time Travel is against Zeus laws but not mine. Zeus will be forced to accept you," Ares frowned, "Though I doubt he will be happy about it. So be careful. You should get back there sometime before our Enemy makes his first move, though I'm not sure when that will be." Ares closed his eyes and began to chant in Ancient Greek.

Stiles pulled Xander closer to him as a heavy white mist began to rise up from the floor and surround the two champions. Ares opened his eyes they were a brilliant pure heavenly white, in the moment it took to blink Stiles and Xander were gone.



Chapter Text

Pairings: Gimli/Female Legolas, Female Bella Baggins/Thornin Oakenshield,Kili/Tauriel, Fili/Sigrid

Warnings: Character death, Time Travel


Chapter One

Sauron was defeated and all of Arda rejoiced.

But was he? Was he really? Or was he in hiding once more?

Waiting for the chance to reclaim what he thought was his? Everyone in Arda was so sure Aragorn had killed Sauron that day in the battle of the War of the Ring. No one had stopped to think it might have been a trick. Because surely no one who was thousands of years old, as feared and dangerous as Sauron, rose to the power he had by being stupid.

Sauron had learned from his mistakes. That's what made him the most dangerous of all the Maia on Middle-Earth, you see. Sauron learned from his mistakes even when blinded by his obsessions. Not even Gandulf, the Gray, now the White Wizard, and wisest of them all had done that. Gandulf chose to believe that good was good and that evil was evil and time and again the wizard was proven wrong. For the world nor it's people are so black and white in their being.

Because of this a hobbit's soul was destroyed in the effort to save the world from Sauron.

No, not just a hobbit. But two... Poor Bella Solana Baggins suffered as much or even more so than her nephew. The lost of the Dwarf King, that Bella had loved and guarding the Ring of Power for as long as she had, had driven the poor female hobbit to the edges of insanity. And dear, sweet, gentle Frodo... Deserved much more than what he got in return for his courage and bravery.

Both of the Baggins did.

Three more were...damaged by the events they had experienced during the war. Merry and Pippin had found love though they thought they were unworthy to have it and in the end watched as those they loved, a shield maiden and a prince, turned to each other for comfort. When Merry and Pippin returned to the Shire they lived as they always had, to most they seemed unaffected by what they had gone through. Yet, if one looked close, you could see the suffering they felt. Sam, though he married his Rosie and had many children with her, suffered many night terrors that his wife couldn't comfort him, up until he died.

No one spoke of the creature whom Bella Baggins got the ring from. Many did not know that it had once been a hobbit too.

Life went on...or did it?

In the land beyond the great seas called Valinor, where the gods were said to dwell, in

Mahal's Halls, a goddess looked into her a mirror of the Waters Of Life. Her bright emerald colored eyes widened, as thick strong arms wrapped around her waist, startling her.

"What are you watching," the goddess's husband purred, stroking the marriage braid he had re-braided into her hair this morning.

"My champions." Yavanna said, unhappily.

"Did two of them have to be an Elves, my wife? The Hobbit goes without question and the woman I can understand even if I find strange but Elves?

Yavanna ignored the questions and told him, "We are bending the rules, for my Champions and their loves in order to give them this chance," she looked at her husband.

Most of Aule's dark long hair was pulled back in a simple braid trailing down his back to just past his waist. Aule's marriage braid hung at the side of his face where she always placed it. His tanned skin was slightly dirty from his work at his forges, but the dirt did not hide the dark blue tinted ink of the tattoos that covered his upper chest and shoulders. Aule's dark fathomless eyes gleamed in the low light with his love for her.

"Yavanna, you could have chosen any of your other children for this." Aule told her. "They don't have to suffer again..."

"I know but," Yavanna said, pushing a lock of her crimson hair, the color of fresh skin of a bright red apple, back over her shoulder, "Bella Solana Baggins will have a different fate. She will be Queen Under The Mountain! Frodo will know happiness this time!"


Yavanna turned to look at her husband, pleading as she did so, "This is our one chance to right what went wrong before! Frodo Baggins was never suppose to be the Ring Bearer! That horrid object should never have been found! I sacrificed one of my children to it! And for what? Just to loose more to it's evil!"

"If that Elf had never taught Annatar-" Aule was cut off, by Yavanna.

"DO NOT BLAME CELEBRIMBOR!!!" Yavanna shouted, angrily at her husband.

"She has suffered enough! All she did was teach her craft to someone. And was punished for it. Is still being punished, I think unfairly," Yavanna glaring at Aule, muttered, "Teaching crafting is something your own children have done in the past or have you forgotten who it was that taught MEN to craft and build?"

"If it is discovered by the other Valar what you are doing. It will be you who is punished. This is not their destiny, Yavanna.You are twisting this for your own purpose. You should not play with their lives in this manner, and you know that!"

"The path that the Valar is following is wrong, Aule! They will betray all of our children, even Eru's children just to see that MEN will inherit Arda once it's remade. None of our children will see that world. And I can't- can't... I will not lose any more of my children, see our children die! For a fool's errand!" Yavanna cried, collapsing against her husband's chest. "This is the only way!"

Aule sighed, tightening his arms around Yavanna's waist once more. He did not understand the other Valars love for MAN. He found them to be no better nor worse than his own creations. But every one seemed to adore Manwe's race of children above all.

And none but he and Yavanna noticed that the Enemy was still alive. Weaken, yes, but still alive and not one not even Gandulf the White, could see that Sauron was slowly rebuilding his power and that one day he would strike again. Aule feared that Sauron would wait until Arda was remake to make a move and there would be no one who could or knew how to stop him.

"Did it really have to be an Elves, though?" Aule asked unable to keep the whine out of his voice.

Yavanna gave a watery laugh, "Yes, my love. It had to be Elves. You were the one that crafted that strangeness into those two sons of Durin."

Aule only sighed again and wondered just where this madness would lead too.


Middle Earth Early Fourth Age...

The Orc population had dropped considerable since the War of the Ring.

Hobbits had retreated into the Shire and not a one ventured out of it. Learning what had happened to Bella Baggins on her adventure with her Dwarves, seeing how it had changed her, had made them more wary of strangers. After the Battle of the Shire? And Frodo and the others had returned home? The Shire went on lock down by order of the Thain. Only the trading families went to Bree to sale their wares. It had become against Hobbit law for one of their people to leave for an adventure. No Hobbit could leave the Shire without permission from their Thain. And he never gave it without a good reason.

Dwarves though endless wars and their own lack of dwarrow females were slowly dying out as a race.

Elves were rare to find on Arda these days. Many had boarded the Gray Ships and sailed to the Undying Lands in the last century or so, the Age of Man was well and truly a upon Arda.

Legolas Greenleaf of the Woodland Realm, crawled through the mud and the muck of the swamplands of Emyn Muil, outside of the border of what had once been Mordor. She ignored ghostly images of the fall warriors of by-gone ages that were left behind to guard this horrible place. Bleeding from various wounds as she was, she worried if she would be the next to become one of the eternal guards as she heard the shrieks of Orcs-and wasn't it always bloody Orcs?

The Orcs had chased Legolas for many leagues. The wound on her left leg was worrisome, having been hit high on her thigh with an arrow of all things! She could not let them take her! She would not become a means to breed their dark spawn. Legolas bit back a gasp of pain as she moved lowly through the marshes hoping that the tall grass would keep her hidden. Legolas tried not to think about the brownish-green sledge-like swamp water that was causing her wounds to burn. They had caught up to her just long enough to inflict the wound on her leg and some lesser wounds on her shoulder and wrist.

Legolas had made a stand against the Orcs chasing her...

And I lost, Legolas thought, with dark humor. Which made sense. There had been a Dwarf at Legolas' back since the War of the Ring. Gimli... My Star... Legolas mourned. Was...gone. Some days she had a hard time remembering that Gimli was no longer there to guard her back.

The Lord of the Glittering Caves had pasted away three decades ago. Poisoned by the young dwarfling he had named as his heir. It had been such an dishonorable act! Gimli had loved the boy as if he had been his own. Which the dwarfling hadn't been.

The boy's mother, Lakshimi, had lied about who the child's sire was...The Dwarrowdam had already been with child before Gimli had laid with her.

Legolas had hated the horrid creature Gimli had taken as a wife. Legolas couldn't stop the sob that escaped her. As she remember Gimli had called for, 'my greatest love, my Mithril' on his deathbed. As he called for his faithless wife.

It had been hard for Legolas to keep for her love for him a secret. So many times she had wanted to tell Gimli that she had feelings for him but her father... Her father had given his word she would be his heir, if Legolas promised to never tell the dwarf of her true feelings. So for the good of her kingdom, for Mirkwood,(never the Greenwood, not to her)she held her tongue.

But her father... the liar...

Thanduil in the end gave Mirkwood to her younger half-brother, Thrandon. The usurper of Legolas' rightful throne. When Thranduil finally decided to sail for the Undying Lands, by then it was too late to tell Gimli the truth. He was beyond her reach wed to that loathsome Dwarrowdam.

These memories were so tiring, Legolas thought.

Legolas was bleeding from her shoulder some still but the wound on her leg seemed to just keep pouring blood. Perhaps the wound is worse than I thought? She wondered darkly. The sound of something large stomping through the water caught Legolas's attention causing her to jerk at the sound, her hand slipping and splashed in the murky waters. Legolas hissed a curse in Khuzdul knowing the Orcs might have heard the noise.

My Star...

Gimli had been Legolas' saving grace when her kingdom had been given to her brother. Legolas didn't have anywhere to go after she had been driven out of Mirkwood by Thrandon. She had gone to Gimli though he had been married to that Dwarrowdam for ten years by then. Lakshimi had never loved Gimli. Of that Legolas was sure. The dwarrowdam had only married Gimli for his lands, titles and riches. Gimli's wife had taken lovers uncaring of her husband. It had been a blow to Gimli's pride.

Pride something that was ever important to one of Durin's line.

Legolas had come up with the idea to be Gimli's lover in exchange for the home he was giving her. Though Legolas knew Gimli would have opened his home to her anyway. Gimli found it amusing at how shocked all of his dwarrow brethren were at the though of him having an Elf woman as a lover.

So, for the next hundred years, Legolas was Gimli's lover in thought as she was never in actual deed. Gimli couldn't stand the thought of causing Legolas dishonor in anyway and taking Legolas to his bed without being able to offer her marriage or even a courtship would have been unthinkable to him. The scowl on Gimli's wife's features was more than enough to make the whole sordid plan worth it, to Legolas' mind.

Legolas started to move through the waters again, when she was suddenly grabbed by the hair and was yanked to her feet.

"Lookie here, boys!" the Orc said in common tongue. Only Mordor Orcs spoke common speech, his face contorted with glee, "At what I found! An Elf!"

A small one eyed goblin glared up at the Orc, "They don't exists no more."

"Oh, they exist," an Orc with a long scar down the side of his face muttered, "They're just hard to find." He frowned, "It's kind of ugly for an Elf. Thought they were suppose to be real pretty?"

"I heard Elves are made of starlight." Said another.

Legolas gritted her teeth. She knew she was not the standard of beauty when it came to her own kind. She knew her features were considered course and unrefined. Her nose was too big and her hair the wrong shades of blonde to be attractive to one of her own people. Being considered ugly by an Orc had to be a new low point in Legolas' life.

It was whispered that she bore a strong resemblance not only in looks but in personality to that of Celebrimbor didn't help Legolas much. Elves had long memories and never forgot those who betrayed them. And they would never forget Celebrimbor, she who was remembered as Kin-Slayer and Creator of the Rings of Power.

Legolas turned in the grip of the Orc holding her and saw at least dozen more Orcs. She gave a low growl, and kicked the Orc that held her, in the calf hard. Causing him to let go of her hair as he howled in pain. Legolas pulled her long daggers from the calf sheaths she wore them in, twisting like a snake as she shoved one of the blades into the Orc's belly. There was a sickening spray of black blood from the wound her dagger left behind when she yanked it out of the Orc. Who was dead before his body hit the waters of the marsh. Legolas glared at the Orcs as they surrounded her.

"One." She said with a feral grin, as she twisted her daggers in her hands, with an underlining menace of one of the large spotted cats that hunted on the vast plains of Rohan.

Legolas brought up one of the daggers catching the club on of the Orc swung at her, using her other dagger to stab him in the neck. Legolas shoved him away and dodging the spray of black blood and gore as the Orc gurgled his death wail. "Two."

Other Orc met his end, "Three." She killed two more swiftly, as their entails were exposed by her blades falling into the waters of the swamp. Oh, my star, how you would have enjoyed this battle, Legolas thought, as her long daggers sank into yet another Orc, "Six!"


Suddenly hit her, Legolas looked down to see a sword sticking out of her chest just below her heart. It was held by the little one eyed goblin. Legolas had been concentrating on the Orcs, she had forgotten about the goblin. He grinned wickedly at her as she stumbled back, trying to pull herself from the goblin's sword, then fell to her knees, the cold water of the marsh once again soaking her pants. Legolas could feel the blood bubbling up in her throat, thick and vicious. She blinked wildly...

Was it growing darker? Legolas wondered as she gave a quick gasp, blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. Don't heal, Legolas thought.

For Elves could heal quickly from wounds. Sometimes even from mortal ones so long as they were quick enough in mind to heal themselves. Most Elves were so shocked by the sight of their own blood they would forget to start healing themselves.

Don't heal. I want to follow my star, Legolas begged of own body. If she could delay the healing...

One of the remaining Orcs stepped up to her. He glared down at the goblin as he pulled the sword from Legolas chest, blood rushed from the open wound on her chest, she swayed on her knees in danger of losing her balance and falling into the marsh but was grabbed by the one-eyed goblin.

"She could have been good breeding stock," the scarred Orc said leaning down to sniff her hair, then shrugged, "Looks like we eat good tonight instead." Legolas was barely aware of it's foul breath, "Never had Elf before. Wonder what it tastes like?"

The small one-eyed goblin grinned, bouncing, "I heard Elves taste like chicken."

"You think every thing tastes like chicken." the Orc said bringing the goblin's sword down across Legolas neck.


Chapter Two

Legolas opened her eyes with a scream, she flailed about, her hands scrambling across her neck, in shock and horror at what she remember had happened to her. Legolas didn't even want to think about what the Orcs could have done to her body after she was dead.

"It's okay, you're safe now." A familiar voice tried to sooth Legolas, the fiery haired elf maid came in to her line of sight, dressed in the green dress the color of the uniform of the Captain of the Guard of Mirkood, that the red haired elf used to wear. Legolas was surprised to say the least. For last that Legolas knew this elf had sailed to the Undying Lands long ago. Tauriel grabbed the blonde elf's hands and pulled them away from Legolas' neck. "You are safe now, my friend."

Legolas gave the other elf a blank stare, "I'm dead, "she said flatly. "I died."

"Yes." Tauriel stated.

"You shouldn't be here in Mandos, you sailed!"

"I did." Tauriel said, her sky blue eyes sad. "But Grief took me before I arrived by the ship. I could not live in a world where my love was not. Savagely rip from me before we had a chance to start."

"You speak of one of Thorin Oakenshield's kin, was it not?"

Tauriel nodded. "Kili BlackWolf, son of Dis. Oakenshield's nephew."

Legolas' eyes widened, "You barely knew him, Tauriel!"

"I knew him well enough! Enough to know I loved him in the short time I knew him."

Legolas wanted to protest that. To say that love, real love took time to grow. Yet, Legolas knew her own race well, and that sometimes love came upon them quickly and fiercely like fire. While others of their race guarded their hearts more careful than a dragon guards it's hoard. Legolas had been like the latter until she had met Gimli.

"We've been waiting for you," Sigrid Bardsdottir said with a waning smile, her hair a mix of light browns and blondes that were in small braids over her head, her eyes a bright amber color. Looking only a few years older than she had the last time Legolas saw her just after the Battle of the Five Armies. Sigrid was wearing what looked to be blue Dwarven battle dress just with out the armor over lay, across her shoulders was the fur of a white lion's mane. Sigrid was leaning against a large oak tree, in which Legolas and Tauriel were sitting in the shadow of, next to Sigrid was a much small female figure.

"You're late to the party, Legolas." Bella said, her long, curly, mahogany colored hair fell about her shoulders. Her sharp, cunning sepia colored eyes took in everything as they always had. She wore a plain bright white dress that looked to be Elvin made by the way it sparkled in the sun light.

"Where are we?"

"You are in my meadow." A woman who resembled an elf but was far shorter, more of Bella's height if not a little taller. She had knee length crimson hair, and ornate braid followed the path over her right ear and held back by a gold clasp with emeralds in it. Her eyes were as green as leaves on the trees and her skin deep bronze like clay from the earth. she was wearing a light blue long flowing dress with a sliver metal chain link belt around her waist.

"Merciful, Green Lady," Bella gasped out in surprise.

"It's nice when one of my children recognize me. So few of you do." Yavanna laughed.

"But I'm a woman and Tauriel and Legolas are elves?" Sigrid said, confused.

"Tauriel and Legolas have spent much time in the wilder areas of Arda, most Woodland Elves do. I claimed them as mine long ago. As for you, Sigrid? Well, you have a respect for the land that grows your food and medical herbs that is rare in MAN. Most consider it a chore or a burden to grow things they need, you though see something beautiful and loving in the act of growing that way you are much my child as any other of my other children."

Sigrid nodded at the answer and asked, "Why are we here?"

"You know, you are dead." Yavanna stated.

Bella laughed, harshly, "Tauriel was not the only one to die on the ship to the Undying Lands. Out of all the things in my life, it was old age that took me."

"I was murdered in my bed as I slept." Sigrid muttered.

Legolas snorted, "At least none of you were killed by Orcs." The disbelief in the blonde elf's voice was plain to all.

Yavanna raised an eye brow, "Is that what you think what killed you, Princess of the Woodland Realm?" Her voice sad," You were dead long before you set foot in that swamp."

Legolas had to glance away from the nature goddess' knowing eyes, wanting to deny what the goddess was implying, so instead she asked, "Why have you brought us here? We should be in the Halls of Waiting."

"Because I'm not happy with the way history has turned out for you. So, I'm going to give you something very rare, a second chance shall be yours. I love my children and husband's children. I've seen the way they are and will be treated by the Valar. How they will use Hobbits and Dwarrow to rebuild Arda, yet give them nothing of it. How they put the Elves to sleep forever, yet, MEN will get it all in the end!" Yavanna snarled, angrily.

"What does that mean?" Bella asked.

"It means that the Vala get the one race that will worship them without questions or demands. They won't have to get their hands dirty anymore by actually doing something to protect the people that will remain on Arda, but will reap the power from their belief." Yavanna said, bitterly. "And yet, we have rules...which I'm going to break."

Sigrid eyed the goddess, "Why are we getting this second chance, why me? If you feel that way about MEN."

Yavanna smiled, "Straight forward. That's one reason I like you, Sigrid. The other is that you love one of my husband's children, did you not?"

Sigrid blinked blankly at the goddess. She knew what Yavanna was talking about but that small spark of love she had felt once didn't count. Nothing had ever come of it. "He died. What was there too love?"

"He asked you something and it lit a spark that never quite went out in your heart for him. What was it?"

Sigrid shook her head, remembering the words of the golden haired Dwarf, "Take my hand, he said, he called me brave when all I felt was fear as my world burned around me."

"And you loved him in that moment, didn't you, Sigrid?" the goddess asked, kindly.

Sigrid nodded, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. She had spent a long time thinking of that moment of what might have been. She knew it had a lot of bearing on some of the choices in her life. But she could help but always wonder what she would have done if the blond dwarven prince had asked that same question under different circumstances.

"You have all wondered what you would have done. If only you had more time. And that's what I'm going to give you...more time."

"But why?" Bella asked uncertainly, hope though growing in her heart.

Yavanna looked at Bella, "Haven't you ever wondered what life would have been like if Thorin and his nephews had lived?" Bella let out a wounded sound at the statement but said nothing in reply to it. Yavanna looked at Legolas next, "Or if you had met Gimli sooner?" Legolas looked down at the ground away from that all-knowing look the goddess had in her eyes. Lastly, Yavanna looked at Tauriel and Sigrid, "If the spark of love could have become a blaze? This is a chance to right a mistake."

"But..." Bella was nothing if not self-aware. She knew she had carried and kept something hidden from a great evil that if it had been found before it's time could have led to all of Middle-Earth to fall, she asked slowly, "what if our mistakes lead to others being saved from Sauron?"

Yavanna's eyes widened and she hissed at Bella, "Shush! You mustn't say that name least you bring his gaze upon you!" Yavanna sighed, "Was the defeat of the Enemy worth the soul of Frodo Baggins?" Bella flinched. Because of course it wasn't! It hadn't been worth the lost of her dear nephew's smile or the lost of his laughter! Too many times it had been Frodo and his happy-self that had gotten Bella through dark days in the past.

"While you will be able to change many things in your past, some things will remain. You will find that trinket in a cave, Bella Baggins and guard it unknowing what it truly is for a time. It will be up to you, if you will be the one that takes it to be destroyed or if it is Frodo. But it must be one of you that does it." Yavanna said.

"You speak of making us of the Twice Born, my lady." Tauriel asked, not sure if that was the goddess' plan but it's what it was starting to sound like to her.

"Yes, though not all the Twice Born are actually reborn. Most are just displaced in time to correct what once went wrong." Yavanna told them. "None of you will awaken at the same moment in time. It would arouse too much suspicion. When or where in your time line you awake I can't say...just use your chance wisely."

The four women nodded looking hopeful.

"Remember that you will not be alone that I will be watching over you. That you will have each other and your loves, remember that. Now sleep, children of my heart," Yavanna whispered and the eyes of the four woman began to droop sleepily, "and when you wake again? Time will have been reordered for you, for the journey that is to come. Safe travels to you all."

Yavanna watched as the souls of the four women slowly faded from her meadow. The last being that of the blonde elf maid. Yavanna wonders if she will ever be forgiven for what she is about to put the elf though? Yavanna knew she had no choice. The Ring Bearer had to be protected from the Enemy's gaze.

And what better way to shift that gaze than to give Sauron the object of his obsession once more. To give him sight of the one that had once been his queen?


Chapter Text

Pairings: Meera Reed/Bran Stark

Tags: Time Travel




Bran Stark POV


Bran Stark stared into the flames that flickered in the hearth. The winds of the last winter storm blows, rattling the shutters, sounding like the mournful howls of the wolves that lived in the dense forest just along the borders of Winterfell. He straighten the blanket that was thrown over his useless legs, Bran rolled, the highly polished acorn between his fingers and along his palm. The shell shone with bright red and gold highlights, glowing with an unnatural sheen marking it as something as...other.

Something it shared in common with it's siblings, who lay in the hands of the Kings and Queens of the North and South. They held a powerful promise of things to change... They had been the result of almost ten years worth of study, experiments and learning about his own powers as the Three-Eyed Raven. The ability to stop the loses they had suffered, the blood shed they had seen. The power to change the past lay in five small acorns... And they didn't want it!

Bran didn't understand why? They had lost so much, had suffered so many terrible things, as pawns in someone else's game. When Bran had given Jon and Sansa their acorns and explained what they could do... They had said nothing only looked at him sadly as if he were the one that didn't understand. Gendry had only given his a thoughtful look, before handing it to Arya, shaking his head and walking out of the room. It had been his sister, it had been Arya of all people who said to him,

"Bran, none of us want to chance the past. Despite the things we have seen and done. We have some measure of peace now. Something which was hard won. We still stand, Lannisters, Freys, Targaryens, even the Night King could not make us bow... We are content with our actions of the past, for it put us all on our path..."

Paths that had led Jon Snow to the Wall and later to discover that he was not a Stark but a Targaryen. Jon Snow who had became King of the North. For Sansa Stark to have a fake marriage to a Lannister and hide as a enemies bastard daughter. With the death of the Dragon Queen and her children at the hands of the Night King, sacrificed in a play to defeat him, victory over the White Walkers came soon after. Sansa had married Jon and became Queen of the North.

Though a series of events, that to this day still confused Bran, though he watched it all unfold with his visions. Arya Stark had become a Faceless Man and then she put the bastard son of Robert Baratheon, Gendry Waters, on the Iron Throne and in doing so she became the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, She Who Guards The Iron Throne.

" find our place in this harsh, cruel world."

Bran's hand tightened around the acorn suddenly. Arya didn't understand! None of them did! They didn't understand what it was like to be trapped day after day endless day, in a prison from which there was no escape. To have to depend on others for tasks that most people could do easily. To be able to walk across the room? To ride a horse, go upstairs without being carried... to fuck his wife! These were the things he was not able to do.

Would never be able to do.

Gods, did Bran ever regret climbing the tower that day, he bore witness to the sins of the Lannisters. Sins that still haven't been paid for in full, for the Kingslayer, the one that actually pushed him from that window? Lived in Arya's court as her husband's Hand. Why Arya let that viper so close to the Throne, to her self to her husband. Bran didn't understand.

It was one of the many things that he didn't.

Bran's squeezed the acorn in his hand, perhaps he should ask Meera? His lady wife did seem to understand all those things he didn't. Meera Reed knew about all the things he didn't. His lovely wife, who he would never be able to give child to, could never know in the way most men knew their wives. Sometimes Bran wondered if Meera had married him because he could never touch her in that way? But he wanted to...gods, did he ever want too! But his body wasn't capable of that no matter how much he wished it didn't stop the desire he had for his wife. If anything it made it worst.

Bran frowned when he heard a quiet cracking noise of something breaking. For a moment he thought it to be one of the logs in the hearth until he felt the white hot heat in his hand, he looked down to see the light glowing between his clenched fingers. Slowly he uncurled his fingers from around the small acorn to see the glowing white light shining through the cracks made in the polished red- gold shell.

In a small jewelry box belonging to the Queen of the North, two small acorns sat, their highly polished shells, cracked, and a glowing white light could have been see if someone had opened the jewelry box....

In a small tool box kept in the Royal Forge, on a shelf near the work area only the King of the South used when he felt the call to create, to forge things pf beauty, of function, were two small acorns. That suddenly cracked, and glowed with a white light, that could have been seen if someone had opened the tool box...

Bran's last thought was, That wasn't suppose to happen...before everything black.


Bran woke to the sound of his sisters screams. He rolled out of bed and hit the floor with a hard thump, he lay there breathless and confused while he stared at the ceiling. Bran felt strange and wrong as his legs spasm for a long painfully moment before he sat up. He grabbed the side of his bed and pulled himself up. Trying to get his feet under him, he was surprised when it worked...and how...oh, that's what was strange...he could feel his legs again!

Bran stood but when he tried to move he found that he couldn't. He didn't remember how to make his legs, his feet work. Bran took a deep breath and cleared his mind, while his head might have forgotten how to walk? His body knew how to move. Bran knew it did. So Bran just moved...letting his body re-teach his mind. By the time Bran got to his bed chamber door? His gait was smooth if a bit uneven. Once Bran was out of it, Bran found himself running, running, down the hall to his sisters room.

The moment Bran entered his sisters' room, Arya wrapped her hands around his throat. This was going to be painful, he thought and he was right. When she threw him up against the wall of the room. He barely noted that Sansa just stared at him coldly from the bed or that his father, mother, and Jon rushed into the room. This was because he was having a hard time breathing do to fact that Arya was squeezing his throat, her fingers on pressure points that could kill him if she or he moved and inch.

"What have you done!" Arya hissed, deadly, into his ear, her gray eyes wild and on the edge of insanity. "Why did you take him from me!"

Bran had forgot how closely Arya's sanity was tied to her husband, he choked out her name. He barely heard the shouts of his parents but he heard Jon as he commanded Arya to let him go. Arya rarely listened to Jon before so it was unlikely she was going to do so now.

"He can't tell us what he did if you kill him, Arya," Sansa said getting out of the bed and walking over to stand be hind Arya, their mother making shocked sounds because Jon was in the room while Sansa was in her night clothes.

"I know what he did!" Arya snarled, "the proof of that is standing in this room! You know what he did! I want to know why!"

"Accident, Arya," Bran breathed out, "Didn't mean too."

"Do you know how many accidents end with the words 'I didn't mean too?' Why?!"

"Meera..."He could have said several different things but that was Bran's choked reply. Arya gazed into his eyes and Bran knew, he knew, Arya would see the truth of the matter.

She always could.

Arya's expression darkened and her lips curled into a snarl, "Tell me you didn't do it because of that!" Her hands tightened around Bran's throat. When his expression didn't change and he said nothing in his defense, "Oh, you did!" Arya raged at him, as she began to slam his head into the wall behind him, "You," slam, "selfish," slam, "selfish," slam, "boy..."

Bran was glad when his father and Jon dragged Arya off of him. His head paining him from her attack but at least he could catch his breath. Which didn't last long because Arya shoved her elbow into Jon's stomach causing him to yelp in pain. She kick out a leg, her foot hitting the back of their father's knee causing him to go down, as she grabbed the dagger from their father's belt, shaking off their hands as she did so. Twisting as quick a snake evading their attempts to catch her as she put the dagger to Bran's throat, their mother let out a scream.

"Give me one reason, just one, as to why I shouldn't slit your throat, brother. For sending us back into this hell." Arya snarled.

"We can save them!" Bran whispered out passionately, for he always believed that. Believed that he, Jon and his sisters could save their Father, Mother, Robb and Rickon from their fates.

"No! We can't!" Sansa cried, unshed tears in her eyes as she avoided looking at their parents, "While their lost broke our hearts," broke them, really, "it was also the making of us!"

"I missed them as much as you do, Bran, but my-" Jon cut himself off with a sorrowful look at Sansa who only nodded back. "Sansa is right."

Arya narrowed her eyes, Bran could see she was thinking it through, she knew the truth of it. "Oh, little brother didn't brings back here for any reason so noble as to save them," the dagger pressed harder into Bran's neck, he could feel the sharp sting where it cut into him. "Did you, Bran? No, of course not. Still bitter about being trapped in that chair? No, this is about not being able to fuck that pretty, pretty wife of yours, isn't it?"

"Arya!" Sansa snapped, "Manners!" Arya only rolled her eyes at Sansa, "And remove that dagger from Bran's throat. Your going to send mother into a panic."

Bran glanced over at his mother and saw she was pale with worry and...wished he cared? He frowned, this was what he wanted. Too have them back. So why wasn't he happy to see them? Why was it when he looked at his Father, his Mother, all he saw were ghosts?

His father stepped up and reached out to touch Arya but Jon moved quickly grabbing their father's wrist before he could. At Ned Stark's shocked look of surprise,

"That would not be wise." Jon said softly, firmly.

Yes, Bran thought, when Arya got like this no one could touch her without losing a body part. Except for one person and he wasn't here. No that person was somewhere in King's Landing right now. If Bran remembered it right.

"Some one needs to tell me what the hell is going on here!" Ned Stark said in a commanding voice getting all of his children's attention.

Arya dropped back from Bran removing the dagger from his throat but not letting it go. She sighed, "Do it, Bran."

Bran froze, "Are you sure?" he looked over to Sansa and Jon both of them nodded.

"They need to know." Jon said.

"What if it doesn't change anything?" Bran muttered because it was possible this was nothing but a fool's wish.

Sansa laughed coldly making Bran flinch he hadn't her that tone from her since she killed that bastard Ramsey Bolton, "You should have thought of that before you broke the acorn, little brother. We are here now. Might as well do what we can to stop what is to come. If we even can. Besides mother and father need to know why Jon must become the King of the North." She looked over at their parents, "Winter Is Coming, and the Long Night will soon be here."

Bran closed his eyes with a long sigh. He reached down inside himself glad to find his power there waiting for him like it always was...he wrapped his fingers around it and tugged on it, it responded like a faithful if dangerous pet leaping into his grip. When he opened his eyes, he heard his mother gasp in surprise and his father's exclamation of shock at the sight of them, as they glowed a bright brilliant white. Bran turned his gaze to his father, his mother, and his siblings...Bran sighed again when he heard their bodies hit the floor all of them unconscious as he dragged them all into the Dreaming.



Chapter Text

Pairings: Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale, Jude Kincade/Zero




Six months ago Derek Hale left Beacon Hills with his sister, Cora after the defeat of the Nogistune. Sheriff Stilinksi had enough and send Stiles to LA to stay with his cousin, Jude Kincade.

Jude Kincade had signed two new players for the Devils basketball team, four months ago. Jude could see the drama that Zero was going to cause him from a mile away. But he never thought the soft spoken Derek Hale would be the cause of most of his headaches once Jude's cousin, Stiles had come to stay with him and Jude learned that the two shared a past that neigher wanted to talk about.

Attempted murder, backstabbing, and basketball...

Chapter Text


Summary: Kurt Hummel has had many regrets in his life... Marrying the serial cheater, Blaine Anderson and getting that STD(from said cheater) that cut short any hope of a Broadway career. Now left to waste away in a nursing home because his husband didn't want to take care of him and his adopted daughter couldn't because of her own career and personal life, Kurt is left to think and wonder just where he went wrong in his life. Then one day, Alexander, Vengeance Demon of Those Betrayed afforded him a wish...




Kurt Hummel sat in a chair staring out of the one window in the private room, in the nursing room he had been trapped in for the last five years. Since he had become too ill, to take care of himself. Kurt comforted himself with the knowledge that his ex-husband, Blaine Anderson, had died of the same STD that he had given Kurt, three years ago. Kurt wonder why, just why, he had married someone who had cheated on him before they had even been dating a full year? Why he had settled for Blaine Anderson. Had Kurt really thought there had been not one else who would have wanted him? No one he could have been happy with but Blaine? Because Kurt had, many offers from men and surprisingly women over the years, for not only sex but actual relationships.

Kurt never should have married Blaine, hindsight is a wonderful thing. Nor should he had agreed to adopted Rachel Berry's daughter, that had mostly been Blaine's idea. Kurt had seen his dreams begin to shatter then... Blaine wanted Kurt to stay home with the baby, so Blaine could focused on his career. Blaine had been successful as an off-Broadway star, then Hollywood came knocking for an adaptation of the show he was currently in. It wasn't long before Blaine became Hollywood's newest darling and Kurt was out in the cold, with a child to support.

Emily had been the only bright spot in Kurt's life with Blaine. Though the girl was far too much like her birth mother despite Kurt's best efforts otherwise. His daughter hadn't come to see him in months and Kurt knew it was because Emily's career as an actress was finally taking off and that the pressures of her on again-off again romance with Christopher St. James.

There were days when Kurt would bemoan Jesse St.James for, breeding. Kurt hated the man that was spawned from that Broadway whore-man. Kurt had laughed when he had heard Jesse had gotten run over by his own tour bus and was killed.

Kurt coughed lightly, as the door to his room was opened and a cheery voice rang out,

"Hey, there, Mister H! How we today?" (Describe Male Xander)He gave Kurt a lopsided wolfish smile. The young jantior was the sort Kurt would have crushed on when he was younger.

"Well, hello, too you, Alexander Harris." Kurt cooed back with a grin, and raised eyebrow, "We are well as can be... Being trapped here are we are and you?"

"Oh, same old, same old." Alexander said, "can't complain," he paused, "well, I could but I don't think anyone would listen, you know?"

"How well I do."

"I think I'm up for a promotion, though, so that's something."

"That's nice," Kurt said disinterestedly, looking back out the window, dismissing the younger man as he began to straighten the room. He didn't really care about the young man's life, he was glad the boy seemed happy. Alexander was one of the few bright spots in his horrible place. Kurt's eyes fell to a picture on the window sil, it was of the Glee Club, one of the last they took together before Kurt had left with Rachel to New York.

They looked so happy, so innocent, so hopeful...what morons they had been.

Kurt's step-brother Finn Hudson was the first to fall among them dead before he was twenty. After Finn's death like was almost like a domino effect took place through out the Glee Clubs core members.

Mike Chang had simply disappeared, yet sightings of him happened from time to time in New York at a club called, Pandemonium, and more offend than not in the company of a dark haired young man. But those were just rumors of course...

Rachel Berry never really recovered from Finn's death and was at the height of her Broadway career when she was killed by a stalker, at age twenty eight.

Tina Cohen-Chang stayed in love with Blaine Anderson for years after high school and was his number one fag-hag and died of an overdose of Meth at age twenty-two. Blaine want been inconsoulable for almost two years, Kurt remembered.

Artie Abrams was killed by Santana because he and Brittany had began to date after the divorce was finalized between Brittany S. Pears and Santana Lopez, when he was twenty five. Though this didn't come out until after both women had been killed in a random shooting, or what seemed to be, Artie's older sister had been the one to shoot the two women. Santana and Brittany had been twenty seven.

Mercedes Jones was killed by her rapper-hip-hop singer boyfriend of ten years. Leaving behind two children. She had been twenty nine at the time.

Sam Evans was hit by a car when he was twenty-three, when a drunk driver decided to commit sucide and take as many others with them as they could that day.

Quinn Farbray's husband murdered her when his sixteen year old mistress asked him too. The said mistress turned out to be Beth Corahan the child Quinn gave up for adoption as a teenager. Beth blamed Quinn for not keeping her and for the life she had with Shelby. Quinn was only thirty-four when she was murdered.

And Noah Puckerman? Well, Noah died on some mission that the government wouldn't say actually happened, in a country they refused to name, doing something that might not have been as all honorable as they tried to make it out to be...but they gave his mother a flag and a metal instead of the body of her son. Noah was only twenty-seven when he died.

Kurt was the oldest living member of the Glee Club at fifty-six years old. And oh, how he wished, " I could change that..." he muttered to himself.

"And just what would you change is given the chance, if given the chance?" Alexander's voice purred darkly in Kurt's ear.


"Hmm, everything is a big order."

"I would save them if I could."

"You can't save everyone Kurt, it doesn't work that way. But if you had just one wish..."

Kurt turned to look at Alexander, Kurt watched as the younger man's face shifted, morphed into something that was horribly inhuman, yet still at it's core was so very was the look of rage, betrayal and hope in one expression.

"I had a family member that ran with wolves." Kurt said softly, "I know what you are, Stiles always warned me to becareful about wishing for things out loud because you could never be sure..."

"...Who was listening or how the wish will actually turn out?" Alexander said giving Kurt a dark smirk. "Make a wish Kurt Elias Hummel, change your past for the hope of a better future...."

Kurt looked down at the picture for a long time before finally doing what the demon knew what he would do... What he was always going to do... "I wish..."


Chapter Text


Stiles had a plan when everyone he loved was killed by the Calaveras hunters. after two years of looking Stiles found a time travel spell, Deaton didn't approve of Stiles plan, but Stiles didn't care. Stiles had a plan...

Step One: Keep Scott McCall from getting bit by Peter Hale(No one needed werewolf Jesus)
Step Two: Kill Peter Hale and Kate Argent(Stiles was willing to go for the triple word score if he had too.)
Step Three: Get Derek therapy(like all the therapy with kittens, puppies and bunnies. No seriously.)
Step Four: Introduce his Mini-Me to Malia as soon as he could(Why did his younger-self even have a crush on him anyway?)
Step Five: Unite the Pack
Step Six: Kill anyone who tries to harm them(Yeah, he kind of has no fucks to give. If that makes him a sociopath? Stiles is okay with that.)


Stiles blinked, as he stepped off of the stump of the Nemeton. He looked up at the bright full moon. He hoped that Scott's blood, Lydia's scream and his own Spark was enough to have made the ritual work. just had too. Stiles just after starting his training for the FBI, having gotten in on the word of Rafe McCall, who was designing some special supernatural unit that Stiles was going to be a part of once he was done with the training.

One year, Stiles had gotten one year of...normal before...everything when to shit.
The pack had survived the Dread Doctors and the Wild Hunt only to be ruthlessly hunted down by Gerard Argent's army of hunters. Even John Stilinski and Melissa McCall were not spared by Gerard. It was realized too late that the man that Melissa had been dating for the past two years, Nicolas Santiago, was a member of the Calaveras hunting family, had been secretly feeding the old hunter information about Scott and the pack for months before Gerard made his move. Stiles, Scott, Deaton and Lydia were the only ones to have survived Gerard's hunt. Mostly through Stiles own cunning and ruthlessness. Scott even after everything still believed that Gerard Argent could be reasoned with, ever the optimist, that was Scott McCall.

Finding the ritual had been two long years of work but he and Lydia had found it. Though the ritual wasn't without consequences. Stiles knew that performing it could cause their own time line to collapse. It would in lay man's terms? Cease to exist. That everything that the pack had suffered would be undone.

"Changing the past, Stiles, could in fact make the future far worst," Alan Deaton had warned Stiles.

Stiles didn't care.

Stiles had lost everyone he had loved and cared for to Gerard. He just wanted a to fix it! To have his family back. Stiles had made the choice to leave Lydia behind, knowing she would be killed by the hunters, in order to do this. Stiles actually hoped their timeline had collapse in on itself. Because Lydia was as good as dead when Gerard Argent's hunters found her.

How much worse could the future be? Stiles wondered. He had often found Deaton to be cryptic and unhelpful so Stiles just ignored him. Deaton hadn't like the fact that the spell called for the blood of a True Alpha. Stiles knew Deaton had hidden Scott away when Argent's end game became clear.

Death to anyone with any sort of connection to Scott McCall. In the end Scott to gave Stiles the blood need for the ritual before the True Alpha had died at the end of a hunter's rifle. Gerard's rifle, in fact.

If everything went as planned though? That future? The one where everyone dies but Stiles, would never happen. Not if Stiles could do anything about it. Stiles frowned. He could hear voices coming closer to him, over the sound of barking dogs. Stiles slunk deeper into the shadows of the forest, he observed his younger-self and a floppy haired Scott as they stumbled into the clearing.

"Dude! You go this way," Stiles heard his younger-self say, "and I'll go that way. "

Stiles shook his head at the idoticy of his younger-self as the boy ran off leaving Scott not only behind but in the dark as well. Stiles remembered that cell phone of his younger-self had the flashlight app on it and not Scott's. Stiles wasn't worried about his younger-self, Stiles knew that the kid would be found by the Sheriff in a few minutes. Using a stealth, gained by the hardship that came with running with werewolves, Stiles followed Scott.

Stiles knew this was the night Scott had gotten bit by Peter Hale.

A few minutes later a deer came racing through the woods, panting and terrified, brushing by Stiles and almost knocking down Scott as it fled by them. Scaring Scott so badly he stopped to pull out his inhaler because he was breathing hard. A rustling in the undergrowth gained Stiles attention. Scott to stopped as well looking around wildly.
Stiles groaned softly to himself when he saw the menacing crimson colored, glowing eyes staring intently at the floppy haired boy.

Stiles muttered to himself about 'insane alphas', and took off the small brown messengers bag setting it by a tree.

Stiles took a deep breath.

Then stepped forward to change the past.


Scott cursed under his breath as he ran through the dark forest. Wondering why he let Stiles talk him into doing these sorts of things. Like looking for a dead body in the Beacon Hills Nature Preserve. When he saw Stiles? Scott was going to have strong words with his friend! This was just so uncool! Scott stopped to catch his breath, panting, his eyes widened when a deer came out of nowhere almost running him over. He pulled his inhaler from his pocket as he looked up into the night sky in time to see the clouds part and reveal the bright full moon.

Stiles left me here! Scott thought angrily, Why is he my best friend again?

Scott froze when he heard a loud growl come from behind him. Startled Scott dropped his inhaler. In the shadows Scott thought he saw a pair of glowing blood red eyes staring at him, menacingly. Suddenly something lunged at him, knocking him backwards, causing him to fall on his ass to the ground. Scott backward crawled away from...the really big black dog? Wolf? Bear? That was baring sharp white fangs at him. Before the beast? Monster? Could take a step towards him, a red leather jacket wearing blur slammed into the beast. Knocking the animal a few feet away from Scott, the red clad figure rolling with the beast.

"No, you don't, you bastard!" said the figure, a boy, no, a man, Scott thought, that he couldn't be much older than himself and that the person's voice sounded familiar, "You don't really want the easy prey, do you?"

I should feel insulted, Scott thought stupidly.

The creature started to stalk Red Leather Jacket, who in turned pulled an ornate metal belt from around his waist and with a flick of his wrist was holding a...sword?

I've got to be dreaming, Scott thought.

The creature lunged at the Red Leather Jacket with it's claws but was blocked when the boy brought up the sword. The boy slashed at the creature. It howled in pain when the boy caught it's shoulder with the sword, leaving a deep bloody mark behind. The creature and the boy traded blows, the creature circling the boy, until somehow Red Leather Jacket got between the creature and Scott. Red Leather Jacket was being forced back by the creature. Scott tried to move but was too slow and the creature lunged shoving Red Leather Jacket, causing him to trip over Scott.

The boy jerk his head up, causing the hood to fall back from his face...from Stiles face? Scott wondered in shock. This Stiles looked a bit older, and a bit meaner. His hair was grown out, in a style that seemed to defy gravity but it was the look in his eyes that scared Scott.

This Stiles had eyes that looked as if he had seen unspeakable horrors...

"Don't keep sitting there!" Red Leath-Stiles said, bring up the sword, rolling to his knees, never taking his eyes from the creature that growled again, almost howling, "Run fool!"

Scott blinked at Stiles stupidly for a moment then scrambled to his feet. He hissed out a breath when the creature took a swing at him and it's claws scrapped against the back of his coat.

Scott ran.

Scott heard a roar, and a scream of pain come from behind him, but he kept running. He kept going almost falling over tree root. Scott breathed a sigh of relief when his feet hit the pavement of the highway that ran around the Preserve. Suddenly he was blinded by a bright light coming from his left. Scott looked up into to see the car but like a rabbit froze unable to move. Scott couldn't breath...he couldn't catch his breath, he panted.

He couldn't breath! Scott lungs felt like they were on fire. He couldn't breath!!! Scott got weak in the knees and felt himself falling. He hit the ground painfully and he couldn't keep his eyes open... He wondered where his inhaler was...Scott's last thought was, Mom's going to be pissed.


Allison Argent stared out of the car's passenger side window into the night sky. She hadn't wanted to move again. It was never fun being the new girl all the time.

Daddy promised, Allison thought, that I could finish high school in San Francisco.
As it was Allison was going to be the oldest sophomore at eighteen. Allison ignored the concerned look her mother shot her.

"I know you're disappointed that we moved again but I think you will like Beacon Hills. It has a homey feel to it." Victoria Argent told her daughter.

Allison rolled her eyes, "You mean boring, right." Looking up out the windshield she frowned she saw a male figure collapse onto the road, "Mom, watch out!"

Victoria looked up and slammed on the breaks of the car narrowly avoiding hitting what looked to be a teenage boy. "Stay in the car, Allison," Victoria said undoing her seat belt and getting out of the car.

Allison frowned, nodded but undid her own seatbelt and rolled down her window as she watched her mother make her way over to the boy. Allison couldn't hear what her mother said to him as she checked the boy's pulse and seeing if he was breathing. Suddenly her mother jerked back and called out,

"Allison! Call 911!"

Allison jerked her purse into her lap, dug through it until she found her phone, grabbing it up, she did as her mother told her. She watched as Victoria preformed CPR on the boy.



Stiles limped over to where he had left his bag. He had managed to wound Peter but not kill him. That was on the list of things that had to be done.

Killing Peter Hale? Rank close to number one. Right now Stiles was more worried about the goddamn bite.
Peter had managed to bit him on the wrist. Stiles really didn't want to think about what that might imply. He never had been able to find out if where an Alpha bit you meant anything or not. No facts just a lot of implied things Stiles really hadn't liked. Stiles gave the katana a flick and it collapsed back into a belt. Stiles was glad he stole it from the evidence locker at the sheriff's station after Kira left Beacon Hills to wander with the Skinwalkers leaving Scott heartbroken enough for Theo Ranken to manipulate him. Distracting Scott from the fact that Theo was helping the Dread Doctors.

Stiles put the belt around his waist. He picked up the brown leather bag putting the strap over his shoulder. He tried to keep pressure on the wound but he could tell he was losing blood quickly. Too Quickly. Stiles began to walk. There was only one place he could go.

One place Peter Hale wouldn't go. Not this earlier in the time line. No, Peter still felt guilty about his part in the Hale Fire. Stiles continued walking until he could smell the ash from the burnt out remains if the Hale house. Even a human could smell the scent of ash about a half mile from the house. Stiles eye sight started to go blurry from blood loss, the wounds on his back and sides from where Peter had clawed him throbbed with every step Stiles took. When Stiles tripped over a raised tree root he lost his balance, he hit the ground hard. Stiles was pretty sure he passed out because the next thing Stiles knew he was being carried, he cracked opened, Yeah, he passed out, his eyes and took in the sight of a young, clean shaven Derek Hale!

Derek looked down at him with those mysterious colored eyes of his, no, really what color are they? Blue, green, gray, looking slightly concerned but mostly annoyed. Stiles wanted to tell him things! Ask him questions... He took a deep breath to do just that, moaned pathically as a wave of pain hit him.

"Just pass out," Derek said softly, and more kindly than Stiles thought Derek was capable of being at this point in the time line, "You'll feel better when you wake up."

Stiles was going to do just that. Only, he didn't know if the bite would take? And if it didn't? Stiles didn't want to be another cause of guilt for this man. Derek deserved so much more than that. Derek took a step that jarred Stiles from his thoughts, caused another flash of pain and this time when the wave of darkness hit him, Stiles let it take him.


Stiles woke slowly. He was surprised that he wasn't massive amounts of pain from the wounds he received from his fight with Peter.

The bite must have took, Stiles thought. All years Stiles lied about not wanting the bite and now he got it the same way that Scott had, through force. Stiles only hoped his control would be as good as Scott's was because the last thing Stiles wanted to do was hurt someone. He frowned at the scents of smoke as ash and fresh turned dirt? Opening his eyes, Stiles found that he was on an air mattress covered with a thin blanket. He was also in one of the lower rooms of the Hale House. Stiles flinched when he saw bright glowing blue eyes staring at him from the shadows of the room.

"Your awake," Derek said, as he came towards Stiles, the glow fading from his eyes.

"Somewhat," Stiles muttered, he noticed the black leather journal in Derek's hands, "That's private property, you know."

"Not when it's in my handwriting," Derek smirked.

Okay, he had Stiles there.

"Why is it in my handwriting? I just bought a journal like this one. A couple of week ago I haven't even wrote a full page in it, yet." Derek asked as he flipped through the leather bound book, "This one is almost full."

"Because it yours." Stiles said, flatly.

"It doesn't explain dates or why it's full."

"Your a smart guy, Derek. Why do you think it's full?" Stiles asked, sarcastically.

Derek frowned, "That can't be possible-have you read this?" Holding up the journal sounding vaguely horrified at the thought.

"Of course not," Stiles said scowling at Derek, "it was private. Hell, I only brought it with me so I'd have something to remember-" Stiles cut himself off at the slight softening of Derek's expression. Stiles sat up, rubbing the back of his neck, "I'm-"

"A Time traveler?"

Stiles shook his head, "No and yes. I did a ritual," at Derek's worried look, "To stop the death of my pack," Stiles glances away from Derek, "to stop some of the pain they will go through." Stiles said rubbing the wrist Peter had bit absently.

"So everything in this," holding up the book again, "is true? Did Peter kill my sister, Laura?"

Stiles said nothing.


Stiles jerked at the sound of his name. "How did you know-"

"Who else would you be? Could you be? To do something this dangerous," Derek frowned harder at the other young man but his eyes looked amused, "yet, brave. I-He described you in the journal."

Stiles smirked, "You wrote about me in your diary," amused at the look on Derek's face as he teased lightly, "Did you put little exes and ohhs by my name?"

"Huh," Derek said, "future me was right."

"About what?"

"You are an asshole."

"Yeah," Stiles drawled out, "I am but I'm an asshole you are going to need. Believe me when I say...your going to need me to survive what's coming."

Derek didn't look every happy about that much to Stiles amusement.

Chapter Text

Pairings: Stiles Stilinski/Donovan, Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale, Ian Gallheger/Mickey




The Gallhegers are themselves in Beacon Hills Eastside. Ian and Stiles are best friends who are busy keeping Scott McCall away from Westside's princess Allison Agrent. Stiles is trying to also keep Ian and Mickey's less than legal persues from his father's, the Sheriff's eyes. As well as keeping his boyfriend, Donovan out of his father's holding cell. Then Scott like a moron borrows money from the Hales, the most dangerous mob family on the Eastside so he can take Allison on a date!


Derek Hale takes this chance as a away to bring Stiles closer to him. Derek wants Stiles in his bed and as his second in the Hale family business and if that means marrying the smartass brat or killing said brat's boyfriend? Derek is up for it. Stiles will be a Hale one way or another.


Stiles knows that if the Hales of the Eastside, or the Argents of the Westside don't kill him?


The Sheriff will.

Chapter Text

Pairings: Past Lydia Martin/Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega (Omegas have cocks and vaginas. Deal.)


Chapter One


"You know, I think I find you more attractive now, that you are not trying to cater to my every whim." The beautiful, new Duchess of Kandima, Lydia Whittmore `nee Martin, told the man sitting at the desk before her, with an ironic smile, as she snapped open her fan. Lydia had paid a heavy price to get out of her previous engagement to this man...

Mieczyslaw Nyctimus Reddington Stilinski, Lord of Nogitsune, though his mother's line, heir to the title of Viscount of Beacon once his father passed away. Which wouldn't happen for years if his son had anything to say about it. He was known as Stiles to his intimate friends and family. Lydia had known her engagement to Stiles was a mistake, but it was one she needed to make in order to get Jackson Whittmore to make an overture for her hand. While Whittmore had flirted with her in the past and courted her lightly he never once spoke of marriage until she was beyond his reach as Stiles' fiancée.

Mistakes it seemed were made to be paid for, and how Lydia had paid, and was still paying for breaking the engagement contract between her and Stiles. Why if it wasn't for Jackson's title? Lydia would not be able to attend any of the parties in the county! Lydia should have known how vindictive Stiles could be, adding to the fact that he was of higher rank than she was at the time of their engagement, Stiles' honor came into question.

Lydia had fled to Jackson Whittmore, the moment the Alpha had offered her a ring. As it was her family had paid her way out of her marriage contract with Stiles with most of her dowry and then some... and Jackson would continue to pay Stiles and amount equal to her dowry for the next four years or until Stiles himself married.

"Be still my heart," Lord Nogitsune muttered as he went through a pile of letters on his desk.

After Lydia had married Jackson, Stiles had disappeared to the wilds of the Emerald Isle, to the estate his family had on the borders of the island for almost two years! Now that he returned he was not longer the pale, weak, boy of sixteen that she had sought out to make Jackson jealous nor the eighteen year old that she had been engaged too, but a tanned handsome, broad shouldered man of almost twenty. Stiles had also come back with a darker mood about him. He cared nothing about the gossip of the gentry or noble families of the county. Nor did he suffer the company of those he had no liking for or did not have everyday dealings with.

The happy boy, Lydia had known had been replaced with a dark, cynical stranger.

How intriguing, Stiles had become in his time way, Lydia thought as she walked about Stiles private study, the swishing of her skirts the only sound.

"Is there a reason you have graced me with your presence, Lady Whittmore? Or are you already bored with your husband and looking for entertainment? A new lover perhaps?" Stiles said in a flat disinterested tone.

Lydia frowned, "Even if I was? I wouldn't consider you for a lover."

Stiles shook his head, "No, you never have," going back to the letters on his desk, he paused at one, looking at it with an odd expression Lydia had never seen on Stiles face before, then the young man put the letter in the inside pocket of his jacket in a smooth practiced motion.

"Are you going to the ball, that the Giles' are hosting tomorrow?" Lydia asked suddenly the tension in the air had become to uncomfortable for her to bare.

"No, I believe I'll be working on the estate books tomorrow."

"How boring."

"Yes, quite."

Lydia brightened, "In other news, the Hales are returning to Beacon County!"

The Hales were one the oldest families in Beacon County, in fact only the Reddingtons beat them out for the honor of oldest. They were also a family riddle with scandals and intrigues dating back centuries to Queen Mary of the Scots. They say the first Hale was one of her bastard children she had with one of her lovers. Though nothing has ever been confirmed and the Hales themselves are not saying anything about it.

"I suppose you are going to throw them a welcoming party?"

"Of course! Jackson is seeing to all of the arragangements."

"Your Omega is whipped, Lydia."

"Jackson is an Alpha!" Lydia hissed in outrage.

Stiles snorted, "Jackson may have an Alpha's cock, but his manner is all Omega. It's the reason why you married him. So you could have control of your marriage and a knot for your cunt. No real Alpha would let you run over him they way you do Jackson."

Not shocked by the crude words, Lydia sniffed, miffed at them. True as they were, she couldn't admitted it. Least of all to Stiles. "We like the fact that I'm in charge of our relationship!"

"So you say. I give it six more months before he's unfaithful to you."

"Well," Lydia huffed, "I see your time away from Beacon County hasn't made you any less opinionated about things that are not your affair!'

"No, I fear it has made me worst," Stiles told her with a cold smile.

"You will come to the party for the Hales," Lydia coached.

"I'll think about."


"Lady Whittmore, you are about to ware out your welcome."

Lydia gave a mock gasp of outrage, "You never use to be so harsh."

Stiles stood up from behind his desk and walked over to the door of the study, opening it, "I once thought you would be a faithful, loyal wife to me, but you couldn't even be a faithful fiancée while we were engaged. I happen to be a bit bitter when it comes to you, Lydia. So I'm allowed to be harsh with you."

"Did I break you heart, Stiles?" Lydia asked with a smirk.

"Good-bye, Your Grace." Stiles not quite growled.

"Until our next encounter, Lord Nogitsune," Lydia purred as she walked out of the study. Her smirk got wider when the door slammed behind her. It was good to know she could still rile Stiles up. It meant he still had some feelings for her.

Feelings she could use against him when the time was right.


Stiles stomped into his room calling for his valet. When the blonde woman appeared, she took one look at him and knew he had just got threw dealing with that woman, Duchess Kandima. The woman that had broken her lord's heart two years ago, the reason Stiles had fled to the Emerald Isle two years ago.


"Oh, pipe down. Your bath has already been drawn." Erica told him moving a screen to reveal the copper tub full of steaming water. "How you can stand that harpy after what she did to you..."

"Erica, be civil about your better," Stiles said more tired than angry.

"That bitch is not my better, Stiles! We share the same father! Only her mother is married to him." Erica snarled. The scandal following the Martins and the Reyes was not a new one. Two close friends, despite not being of the same rank, had been courted by the same man, both had let this man into there beds before marriage, one girl had actually been caught with Randal Martin so that was the girl he married. Everyone in the county knew Erica was Randal Martin's daughter as well. That being known Randal Martin provided well for his bastard daughter, yet, would not claim her as his child. It was a point of irritation with Erica that even with the money he gave her she still need to work, while that red-head got to marry a Duke and would want for nothing in her life. The blonde woman had been working for the Stilinski family for the last four years and was Stiles closest companion.

Stiles got undressed and stepped into the tub. Sinking down into the steaming hot water. Erica told him she was going to go get some more towels but he knew it was so he would have some privacy. While it was usual for a woman to hold the position of Valet, it was over looked in the Stilinski household mostly because Stiles had known Erica since they were small children and the fact that Stiles was an Omega. Though this wasn't something the rest of Beacon County had known until after Stiles engagement to Lydia had been broken. The one secret he had shared with his bride to be, she had shared with her lover, Jackson... Not long after that the rest of the county had known.

Stiles had fled to the Emerald Isle so he wouldn't had to deal with the fall out. Many in Beacon were disappointed that John Stilinski had let his son lie to them for so long. Yet many more under stood why Stiles had lied about being a not being an Omega. Many people had always assumed that Stiles was a Beta from his looks alone. He shared very few Omega features, but for the fact he was tall, and lithe, yet more broad of shoulder like a Beta. While not stunningly beautiful the way Omegas were, Stiles was pretty in a fashion.

Stiles leaned over the tub and retrieved the letter from his jacket pocket.

He shouldn't read it. He shouldn't.

Stiles did not understand why everyone of Derek Hale's intimates thought the Lord Triskele, was a stoic, steady, boring, Beta! Not when Stiles had a boxful...a boxful of letters, erotic letters from said Beta! Yet, Derek Hale had never once made an overture of any sort of courtship, despite the scandalous letters Derek Hale sent Stiles.

Stiles was startled out of his thoughts when Erica snatched the letter out of his hand.

"Another one?" Erica purred.

"Erica!" Stiles snapped, sloshing water onto the floor.

"My, my, another shockingly dirty letter from Lord Triskele. Who would have thought he had it in him," Erica paused, "or should I say what he wants to put in you!"

Stiles sighed, "Just put it in the box with the others."

"Oh, what a hardship it must be to read such words form such a handsome Beta." Erica said laughing.

"Just bring me my robe, Erica." Stiles said sinking back down into the water. He'd had enough conversation for today.


Chapter Text

Pairings: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Daenerys Targaryen. Jon Snow-Stark-Targaryen, Sansa Stark/ Tyrion Lannister, Arya Stark/Gentry Water-Baratheon, Liam Dunbar/Theo Rakken, Scott McCall/Allison Argent, Laura Hale/Damon Hale, Talia Hale/OMC

Summary: After the death of his father, Stiles Stilinski vows revenge on the Targaryen Queen. He knew that in order to have revenge on her and those that betrayed his father, that he needs an army one bigger that the Queen's. And that the only place to find it was in Essos, to the Great Grass Sea, where the Dothraki Khal Rhaego rules over the united tribes of more than eighty thousand people. Stiles will offer himself and the knowledge of the last Khalasar to Rhaego in hopes this will be enough to get him what he need for his revenge.

Khal Rhaego has ruled over the untied people of the Dothraki for almost a year now. His hold on them is shaky at best, he needs to take a Khaleesi and have an heir. When the omega, Stiles Stilinski offers himself and the whereabouts of the last Khalasar, he brings with him unwanted memories of the life that Rhaego left behind years ago...

Warnings: Talk of child abandonment


Moments after the birth of her child, Daenerys Targaryen, sighed exhaustedly. Her white blonde hair stick to her forehead, sweat covered her body, she had come to the conclusion that she didn't like childbirth, it was painfully and messy. Daenerys wondered if Drogo would be pleased, Drogo, her husband...her dying husband, had proved himself to me more of a liability to her. As much as she had come to care for the man and respect the Dothraki culture they were at times far to savage and backward thinking for her tastes. Maybe it would be best if death did take her sun and stars, if he didn't get well his people would leave him and her behind and she could not let that happen. She had given up far to much to be left in his wasteland...Daenerys had a destiny to full fill and nothing was going to stop her from reclaiming what was rightfully hers...

Daenerys blinked sleepily at the sounds of whispering, what was she doing again? Then she heard the low cry of a baby, oh, I remember, she shrugged to sit up, childbirth, I hope I don't have to do it again any time soon. She looked around the tent and saw her handmaiden, Doreah with the witch woman, Mirri Maz Duur. The witch had a bundle of blankets in her arms.

"Where is my child?" Daenerys demanded to know.

Doreah came over to the bed and sat down on the edge of it. "You must rest, Khaleesi."

Daenerys glared at her, "Where is my child," she repeated, harshly.

"Calm yourself, Khaleesi, your son is well," Mirri said, walking over to the bed and putting the bundle of blankets into Daenerys's waiting arms, "and healthy."

Daenerys cuddled the blankets to her breast, taking comfort in the weight and warm of the small body in them, before she moved the small part of the blanket that was covering her son's face, her son's horrifying face! Thick black body hair that could only be described as fur covered most of the child's face and body. His facial features were twisted up in an animalistic, toothless snarl, feral glowing yellow eyes glared at her angrily as he--No, it waved its hands, that had small, sharp kitten like black claws, around.

Daenerys had heard the whispers of what her families marriage practices could produce in it's children, she never thought she would be faced with it. She knew deformities and madness might happen, her brother had the Targayen madness, but this? To see this? This in the face of her son? The face of a...

"Monster!" She whispered in horror, "It's a monster!" Daenarys shoved the child at Doreah, who took the child automatically, "Take it away!"

Doreah gave the blonde woman a confused look but tighten her grip on the child, and stood up backing away from the madness she could see in the Khaleesi's violet colored eyes.

"You must name your son, Khaleesi. Even a monster deserves a name." Mirri said, almost gleefully, as she walked over to a pot that was next to a small fire and picked up a cup pouring some of the contents into the cup.

Daenerys shook her head in denial. That wasn't her child! Her son was suppose to be beautiful! Like her, like his father, not that, that thing! "Rhaego!" she sobbed out, turning away from them, "My son, Rhaego!"

Mirri walked over to the bed and touched Daenerys on the shoulder turning her back to face them. "You are tired, Khaleesi. This will help you sleep. You've had an eventful day."

Daenerys took the cup from her and sipped the warm, slightly smelling of saffron, contents. All she wanted to do was forget she had ever saw that...thing. "Take it into the grasslands. Leave it for the wolves to feast on."

"Dany..."Doreah started, but was cut off when Daenerys yelled,

"I gave you an order! Dispose of that monster at once!"

Doreah gave the Khaleesi a long look before walking out of the tent with the child.

Daenerys finished the contents of the cup in one long drink then dropped the cup carelessly onto the ground by the bed, she closed her eyes and let sleep take her.

Once Mirri was sure the woman was a sleep she left the tent to see Doreah pacing outside of Daenery's tent with the child, "Was she serious?"

"Yes," Mirri said.

"What Am I to do?"

"Take the child to Khahaergo's wife," Mirri said softly, "her our child were born with such faces. She will know how to deal with the boy."


"Child, even if you did as the Khaleesi ordered the wolves would not harm this child. They would never touch one of their own blood." Mirri said. "Take the child to Talia or not. It's your choice." Mirri then turned and went back inside the tent, she was surprised to see Daenery's sitting up in bed, looking glassy eyed but awake. The woman should have slept for hours yet.

"Where is my child?" Daenery's asked, groggily.

Mirri raised an eyebrow, the drugged wine would make some one sleep but in a few people it could cause memory lost. She twisted her features into one of great sadness as she softly told the blonde woman, "I am sorry, Khaleesi, your child was stillborn. Dead before he ever came from your womb."

It took a moment for the other woman to understand what she had been told. When she did, Daenerys let out a scream of grief and denial.


Talia Hale of House Hale, one of the minor noble houses of the North, vassal to House Stark, had been the wife of the Dothraki warrior, Khahaergo for almost three years now. She had been kidnapped by slavers short after only a year of marriage to Lord Philip Coulson of House Shield, she had given birth to his heir and son, Christian, just four month before she was taken. Talia wondered if Phil ever even looked for her or just resumed his own affairs with Natasha and the omega Clint. Talia had known that Phil hadn't loved her when they wed and she had been find with him having his lovers to the point that she had invited them to stay at her home of Triskele. Talia wondered if her brother, Peter, was okay? He had just left Triskle to marry the minor lord, Nathan Tate.

Talia sighed, those were things that were very far away. Yet, she was close to convincing Khahaergo to come to her home. Khahaergo was different from the other Dothraki, he wanted to see what was beyond the Great Grass Sea, beyond the poisoned water to the lands there, to see Westros. Talia had encouraged this desire with stories of her home, of places of snow and ice, of wide rivers and old Weird Trees.

Talia would take this Dothraki man and the children he had given her back to the North. She would see her home again, daring the old gods and new to try and stop her.

"His name is Rhaego. He is the son of Khal Drogo and Daenerys Targaryen. She thinks he is a monster." The handmaiden of the Khaleesi had told her and Khahaergo.

When Talia looked on the face of the child she knew differently, Rhaego was like her, he was a werewolf. So, the pure Targaryen blood wasn't that pure after all, Talia thought. Talia had found that it wasn't odd for a child or two to have wolf blood among the Dothraki. They considered it an honor to their familes if they had a wolf blood in them. Khahaergo, (Describe him) had been drawn to Talia because she was a werewolf, like himself. It was she knew one of the reasons she was comfortable among the Dothraki, even those without wolf blood understood that without a strong Alpha, a strong leader, the tribe would be lost.

Talia looked down at the wolf pup in her arms, he was a prefect little pup. And she knew he was destined to be hers for on his back the babe sported a birth marl that resemble the spiraling mark of her own House. This child was born a Targaryen but was fated to be a Hale, of this Talia was sure.

"How could some one throw away such a prefect child?" Talia asked to herself, mostly.

Khahaergo snorted, "That foreign bitch is weak."

Talia eyed her husband, "Many said the same about me."

"You are not the wife of a Khal. You wept tears of joy when my children clawed their way from your womb. You rejoiced when you saw they wore the wolf on their faces." Khahaergo looked down at the boy in his wife's arms, "He will be a fine son. I will teach Rhaego to be a strong Dothraki warrior if Drogo does not survive his injuries."

Talia looked down at the child, "He will need a Westrosai name." He husband nodded, for she had given Westrosai names to his other names, "I think I'll name him...Derek. Yes, Derek Hale."

"What does it mean, my lupa?"

"Ruler of all men." Talia turned to Khaheargo, "If the Khal lives..."

"Then we shall return his son," Khahaergo said, shortly.

Two days later the new came that Khal Drogo was dead and that his Khaleesi had taken control of the Khalasar. Talia at this news took her children and Dothraki husband and fled back to her home. Back to the North.


Chapter Text

Pairings: Stiles Stilinski/Ian Gallheger, Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale, Ian Gallheger/Micky Malivoich, Fiona Gallheger/Derek Hale, Erica Reyes/Malia Tate.




Stiles Stilinski woke up in late 2010, just after Derek Hale had killed his uncle but before he had started to bite teenagers in town. Stiles knew immedately that this was his lover's, Ian Gallherger's fault. Stiles never should have told the redhead about the time travel spell... Now Stiles has to go to Boston and kick Ian's ass, convince Derek to bit Erica Reyes and come with him and stiles also as to de-coyote Malia Tate and not all in that order.


In the mean time Ian Gallheger is wondering if the spell actually worked or if he's just gone off his meds again? After doing a few things he didn't do the first time around...he still can't convince himself that it's real. That he has a second chance to fix his mistakes. Then a very pissed off Stiles Stilinski shows up and punches Ian in the face!


Look out Southside! For when the Hale pack and the Gallhegers join forces?


It's going to be shamless...

Chapter Text

Fandom Fusion: Teen Wolf/ Flowers in the Attic

Pairings: Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale, Lydia Martin/Jordan Parrish




Beacon Hills, California, 2029

Thomas Stilinski-Hale shoved his older sister out of his way. They had been called down into the family room, that was never used, each of his siblings and himself liked the privacy of their own rooms as did their parents. Family time was mostly at meals and movie/game night once a week. His younger brother, Liam stood behind them looking upset like he normally did when were he and Mara fought. Their older sister glared harshly. Thomas smirked at her. Liam began to whined about how mean they were being to each other. Nothing they hadn't done or heard before. And really, the fourteen year old, should be use to how his siblings acted by now.

Mara hit Thomas on the back of the head hard and for her to be almost twenty years old? Mara should have a better handle on her werewolf strength, in Thomas's opinion. Was she ever doing training plan their dad created for her?

Just because Mara was an up-and-coming model, who had been in Vogue and Marie Claire, just because her boobs got her things didn't mean she had to be a bitch, right?

"Good, you're all here." Papa said from the door way of the family room.

Papa. And yes, Thomas knew it was a childish way to refer to the man but Pops was so disrespectful, Thomas thought.

Papa was a very handsome man with his ink dark hair with just a few gray strands of hair at the temples. Sun kissed tanned skin, some dark stubble on his chin and cheeks. And the brightest...well, Dad called them kaleidoscope eyes, of blue, green, gray with flecks of gold and brown in them, and really thick eyebrows that, Dad said were the most expressive part of Papa's face. Thomas knew Papa was a handsome man because not only had his Dad said so and offend at that. So did the most of the other women that lived in their small town of Beacon Hills.

Papa was always Papa even during that short period of time when Thomas had thought the werewolf was nothing to him at all. Thomas didn't like to think about that dark time.

Papa and Dad had spent a lot of money on therapy to make sure that time hadn't left to much permanent damage to Thomas's psyche. Thomas wasn't sure if it had worked but he did know he was much better now than he had been after it had happened.

"Aunt Lydia!" Liam said running over to the beautiful strawberry blonde woman.

Lydia Parrish wasn't really their aunt but she was a good friend of Thomas's parents. Thomas could see their Uncle Jordan sitting on a couch in his Sheriff's uniform.

Thomas tried not to notice how pretty his uncle's bright blue eyes were.

Okay, so maybe Thomas had a weakness for a pair of blue eyes.

Eric Hale had blue eyes...and was not some one Thomas wanted to think about in any way. Ever. The guy was an asshole. A really cute asshole but still an asshole. There had to be something wrong with him for thinking his cousin by marriage was cute. Eric Hale was nineteen year old the son of his Papa's uncle, Peter Hale.

But SHE had, had blue eyes as well, Thomas cut that thought off savagely. Thomas' time in therapy had taught him that what happened hadn't been his fault. That it wasn't his shame to bare but HERS. Thomas tried not to dwell on thoughts of HER, it wasn't good for his sanity.

"Where's Hayden!" Liam demanded to know. Hayden had been adopted by the Parrishes a few years ago when Hayden's mother, Valerie Clark was shot in the line of duty as a Beacon Hills deputy.

Thomas didn't hear what his uncle told his brother as Aunt Lydia walked up to him, "What are you and Uncle Jordan doing here?"

Because it was rare for them to see Lydia or Jordan outside of a holiday, birthday, or anniversary.

"Let me look at you," Lydia said taking Thomas's chin in her hand. Thomas tried not to shutter at her touch. It was a left over reaction from his time with HER. It happened when ever a woman touched him. "Thomas, you look more and more like Stiles, every time I see you. So handsome!"

"Handsome?" Mara sneered from her sit on a lounge, "If you like the inbred look," she paused giving Thomas a glancing once over, "I suppose he is."

Thomas tried not to flinch at her words. Tried not to wonder at how much truth there were to them. How Mara always knew what to say to hurt him the most. Why she was so jealous when anyone ever complimented him about anything? He knew he wasn't as good looking as Mara, she took after Papa in looks, though she had dark, dirty blonde hair and dark gypsy eyes. Liam was just an odd duck with his bright blond hair and gray eyes.

"Why haven't we drowned her in the pool, yet?" Thomas asked, sneering.

Liam flopped down in a bean bag chair in the corner of room. "Because Papa frowns on franicide?" He asked with a cheeky grin at Mara's glare. "And Dad..." he trailed off when the voice of their dad spoke,

"He would tell you that plotting attempted murder in front of the Beacon Hills County Sheriff is a bad idea." then lower to the side, "And not to get caught when you actually do murder your sister."

Dad was just as tall as Papa, maybe an inch or so taller in height. He had dark brown hair with lighter brown mixed in it. A slight upturned nose, with a scattering of beauty marks across the left side of his face. But it was his dad's eyes that were his best feature. They were a light whiskey-amber brown, that when he was used his magic turned a dark glowing burnt gold.

Thomas had wondered how two people like his parents, so different in personality had stayed together for so long. Papa was taciturn and stoic while his Dad was loud and kind of hyper spazz.

"Stiles, why did you ask to see us? And what," she points to a couple of cooler filled with soda, juices, and bottled water as well a different cold snacks of fruits and veggies. There were plates of sandwiches and small containers of different salads on the nearby table, "is that for?"

"I found some things in the attic," Papa said with a meaningful look to Aunt Lydia, a haunted look that came to her face. Dad shut the door of the family room. The turning of the lock set all of the adults on edge in a way Thomas didn't understand. He looked at his siblings but they seemed just as confused. Thomas watched as his dad flipped the gold key between his fingers, Thomas watched as it rolled along his dad's knuckles in a trick Thomas was still trying to perfect, before he walked over and gave the key to Papa.

Papa put the key into his front pants pocket. Aunt Lydia walked over to Dad and slapped him across the face. It was a shock. Thomas was sure out of all of them Dad was Aunt Lydia's favorite but for her own husband.

"How could you?" She glared at Dad through the start of tears in her eyes, "Tell me you weren't going to...the attic, Stiles?!"

Dad rubbed the side of his face and cut her off with, "No! No, of course not, Lydia!" He wandered over to the glass patio doors, "I hadn't even realized what I was doing...When I was taking things up there...or even why... Derek dismantled all of it. 

Thomas watched Lydia sigh in relief but exchange a concerned look with his Papa. "I believe you, Stiles," Lydia murmured softly, "Now tell us why you have locked us in this room. You know how I feel about that." Going over to sit on the couch with her husband.

Dad nodded. "This is the only room comfortable enough and has an enjoining bathroom. Plus we can go out on the patio for breaks...No one is leaving until they know."

"Know what, Dad?" Liam asked, confused but interested.

"Dad? What is this about?" Mara asked in the snotty she used with Dad since it happened. Causing Papa to glare at her, "I had to cancel an important meeting with my agent to be here."

"I have a story to tell you. You are all old enough to know it now. I waited so long...because I can only get through this once. The truth about..." Dad said quietly.

"They are just children, Stiles! Don't put that burden on them!" Uncle Jordan said harshly.

Dad glared at Uncle Jordan, "So were we, Jordan! Thomas has already suffered because of the lack of knowledge of our past."

This perked Thomas' interest, a lot. He looked over at his siblings and saw the same interest he had. Because while their parents loved them and were the best parents they knew how to be, Thomas and his siblings didn't really know anything about their parents past. How they had met or even how they fell in love. Whenever the subjects came up it was always changed or they were distracted from it.

"Christopher Argent's will," Dad stopped speaking when Thomas drew in a sharp, deep breath at the name. Papa hugged Thomas close to him looking concerned. "Is going to be read at the end of the month. From what little I could get Jackson Whittmore," Thomas frowned when Papa growled at the name, "to say? We are all in it."

"What about Scott and Kira?" Uncle Jordan asked.

Dad nodded, then he looked at Thomas, "Malia..."

Thomas noticed his dad flinches speaking the name just as Thomas does hearing it. Just the sound of it makes Thomas want to claw his skin off. If he had been a werewolf he probably would have but Thomas was only a Spark like his dad. He can only imagine what his dad feels having to speak that name.

"...And Kate." Dad finished looking at Papa.

Papa just looked down at the floor, in silence.

"Why do I," Mara said looking around the room at the adults, "get the feeling every one but us," motioning to her and Liam, "Knows what's going on. " She side-eyes Thomas, "And I know Freak Show knows what this is about."

Thomas lunged at Mara, a fireball forming in his hand. But Papa grabbed him around the waist and by the wrist that had the fireball in his hand.

Papa sent Dad a glare, "Really, Stiles! Fire? Haven't we had enough of that in our lives? You had to teach Thomas that?" Then to Mara, "Don't call your brother that again," his eyes glowing dark crimson. Mara whines in mock contrite.

Dad snorted, "Better he learns to control it, Derek. You remember what happened once my power came online in full?" Waving a hand to put out the ball of fire in Thomas' hand. Thomas glared at him for doing it.

"Oh," Aunt Lydia said, as Papa wrestled Thomas back in his seat, while Thomas turned his glared back on Mara, "I remember, you became Elsa."

"Please! I was totally Jack Frost!" Dad defended himself.

"You kept telling yourself that, Stiles." Aunt Lydia said, smirking.

Dad shook his head before leaning against the wall, looking out of the patio's glass door, "Where do I start?"

"At the beginning Stiles," Papa said softly, encouragely.

"Some people have ordinary childhoods. But ours," Dad motioned to himself and the other adults in the room. Aunt Lydia grasped Uncle Jordan's hand as Papa pulled Thomas closer and gave a small smile to Mara and Liam. Thomas noticed the reflection of his Dad's eyes in the glass of the patio door, it was hazy, dreamy and lost, as if he was already back in the days of his childhood.

"...was truly unforgettable. We lived in the most beautiful house...a mansion, really. That had large gardens with plenty of flowers, a hedge maze that we played Hide and Seek in. As well as acres of woods that we more than once got lost in." Dad voice was melodic and hypnotizing as he spoke.

Thomas frowned when his aunt suddenly burst into tears. Thomas had never seen his Aunt Lydia cry before, he wondered what could drive such a strong woman like her to tears?

"...It was the best money could buy and everything you could imagine. We were tucked in every from ha~rm." Dad's voice cracked here, and Thomas watched as Mara sat up cocking her head to the side as she sniffed the air, before looking at Thomas and shook her head answering his unspoken question, their Dad had lied with that sentence.

"Behind closed doors... That were always...locked."



Chapter Text

Pairing: Female Xander Harris/Brian O'Connor



Xander cursed as she stumbled up to the counter of the road side dinner, blowing tangled hair from her face. She collapsed on a stool and dropped her head down on the counter with a thud.

"Rough night," the pretty brunette behind the counter asked. Xander mumbled under her breath and the girl behind the counter asked, "What?"

"Coffee!" Xander said more clearly and hopeful in English this time. She hated dealing with the demon clans that lived on the outskirts of L.A. They should be Angel's problem but he was still to evolved with Wolfram and Hart to do anything about them. Some things she regretted not going to English with her mother when she left with Giles and Ethan Rayne.

"We don't do any of those fancy things like Starbucks-"

"Black is fine as long as you have sugar." Xander blinked, spacey looking around, she need more sleep. Why didn't people or demon just let her sleep? There was something she needed to remember? Oh! Manners! Xander had them...but rarely used them, "I'm Xander Harris." She introduced herself.

The girl behind the counter walked over to a coffee pot, "Mia Toretto," she told Xander as picked up the pot and poured some into a cup. Xander grabbed up the cup, added some sugar from the shaker then gulped it down quickly. "Careful! You'll burn yourself!"

An burnt orange charger pulled up in front to the diner. A scruffy looking man got out of the passengers side. He had tattoos in almost full sleeves on his arms, his hair was a shade between brown and red. Out of the driver's side a big burly, bald but very good looking dude stepped onto the street. He walked up to the door of the small diner, opening it he walked in.

"Wash your hands, Dom!" Mia yelled, "If your going to be in the kitchen!"

"Just getting' a beer, sis," the man yelled back.

Scruffy looking dude walked over and sat down next to Xander saying hello to Mia which she returned with a weary, "Hi Vince."

To Xander he said, after giving her a once over with his eyes, "Hello, Sweet Thing--"

"I'm going to stop you there," Xander interrupted him, "I'm not interest."

"How do you know? I could be your type."

Xander trailed her eyes of Vince in a mockery of the way he had her before saying, "Trust me, you're not."


"Vince." Dom called out from by the door, "She said she wasn't interested. Drop it."

Xander gave Dom a nod in thanks then focus back on Vince, "I already have a guy."

"Must not be much of one-"

"Leave Vince!" Mia snapped, "I'm not going to have you harassing my customers!"

"But Mia!"

Xander frowned as she felt her cell phone vibe in her jacket pocket. She pulled it out glancing at the contact name that popped up. She answered it setting it on speaker out of habit. "Hey Sugar Bear, how's tricks?"

"Don't call me that."

"You know you love it when I do, Bri."

"I really don't. Where are you? We were suppose to be home an hour ago."

"Awe, were you worried about li'old me?" Xander asked. Brian was a worry wart. Thought it was a good question. She looked up at Mia and asked, "Where am I?"

"You don't know!" Brian shouted.

"I'm still in L.A. I think?"

"Must have been some night you've had." Dom said, giving Xander a concerned look.

"I just get lost easy," Xander said with a wave of her hand.

"Xander! Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine but can you come and get me?" Xander heard Brian groan,

"I have to be at work..."

"Brian! I had a shit night. There was a fight at Cat's Meow, the place was all but busted up but the Trans. I punched Johnny in the face for how he treated Faith. The chain of my favorite cross got broke in the fight. I lost my sta- uh taser and the sleeve of my leather jacket was ripped off during the fight. I'm tired."

"Give me the address."

Xander looked up at Mia and the other woman rattled off the address to the diner.

"Stay there, I'm already in the car. I'll be there in a few."

"You could've just send KARR."

"Can't." Brian mumbled.

"Why not?"

"Faith took him out last night to that race on the Southside."

"What?! I told her no street racing!"

"You also told her not to fuck Dean-"

"Not say that bastard's name, Bri! I'm going to take the Impala to the worst part of town and laugh while it's stripped for parts!"

"Now Xan, that car never did anything to you." Brian laughed.

"He's a bad influence on them." Xander growled, "Just get your pretty boy ass here."

"I'll see you in a few."

Xander sighed and ended the call, "Why do I put up with him," she muttered to herself.

"Your man sounds sweet," Mia said as she wiped down the counter top.

"Who?" Xander said, confused, "Oh, Bri? Yeah he's great."

"And Faith?" Mia asked, interested.

"My sister, who better not be fucking her sometimes boyfriend in the back seat of my Trans Am."

"Faith wouldn't be a really hot brunette with a Boston accent?" Vince asked.

Xander narrowed her eyes at him, "Yes, why?"

"Just...that Trans Am as a really sweet back seat..."

 "Really. Vince!" Mia snapped, and glared at Dom while the big man laughed. Vince snicker right up until Xander punched him in the jaw knocking him out of his seat.

"Ooh, that was violent reaction." Dom commented.

Vince sat up dazed, "What was that for?"

"Well, for one you had sex with my sister! And two deviled my car, asshole!" Xander snapped.

"Hey, I thought it was her car!" Vince said getting up. Xander pulled her arm back--just as a bright neon green sporty Nissan with dark blue racing strips pulled up to the curb a young blonde leaned over to look out of the passengers window.

"Let's go!"

"Bri, I'm going to kick scruffy ass here..."

"Later, Xan. I'm going to be late as it is."

"Fine," Xander huffed, she turned back to Mia, "thanks for the coffee." Then she got into the Nissan, it pulled away from the curb with a low roar of it's engine.

"Well," Dom drawled, "that was interesting."

"That was a crazy bitch!" Vince whined.

"That's not the worst thing," Mia said.

"Oh? Why's that?" Vince muttered.

Mia sighed, "She didn't pay for her coffee."




Chapter Text

Author Notes: This is a rewrite of an older fic that I have on TTH.
It a Buffy/SGA crossover.


Since the fall of Sunnydale, things had been a bit crazy for the Scoobies but they had rallied and started to clean up their messes from that. Which had been the awakening of the potentials into actually Slayers. With the help of what was left of the Watchers Council. Giles had taken over as the head of the Council and they started looking for newly awaken slayers who were scattered all over the world. Somehow (and Xander wasn’t sure how) Andrew had ended up as Giles second in command. Giles was very closed mouthed about how that came about. It wasn't that Xander didn't trust Andrew but the guy still had trouble telling when something wasn't a comic book situation and when it was? To keep his mouth shut about it.

Buffy had ended up in Italy for awhile. Long enough to start a thing up with the Immortal which was just a stupid thing to call yourself in Xander's opinion. Way to put a bull's eye on your back and have every demon and hunter after your head.

Willow was in Rio with her favor of the week. Kennedy had bailed as soon as she could. Preferring her old life of money and semi-fame to that of dealing with the armies of darkness. Willow kept most of the magical elements and the demon population under her control there. Xander was only vaguely worried about her going power mad and turning into Darth Willow again...but only vaguely.

Oz was still in Tibet. (He didn't need to be, Xander just thought that Oz liked it there.)

Cordelia had come out of her coma and after giving Angel the inspirational speech he need to hear from the Powers That Be before she disappeared from his life. The last that Xander knew Cordy had changed her name and moved to a small town in California called, Beacon Hills. No one had heard from Cordelia since.

Xander spent the few years in Africa looking for baby slayers, at least until he met up with that high priestess of Anubis in Egypt. The one good thing to come of it was that he got his eye back...Even if it was the wrong color, at least green looked good on him. And why did the Egyptian underworld needed so many snakes? He had thought it was a bit of overkill, really.

(pick a scene from SGA put here)


Xander watched as Major John Sheppard turned and snarked at Dr. Rodney McKay on the T.V. As the group of teenagers and young adults watched the re-run of the popular sci-fi show.

“Stargate Atlantis…is like the best show ever !” Andrew Wells said as he stuffed some popcorn into his mouth. Many of the newly awakened slayers rolled their eyes at the young Watcher in training. They were all in sitting in the one of the larger and furnished rooms, of the Scottish castle, which was their base of operations at the moment.

“Sheppard’s hot.” said Vi reaching over to steal some of Andrew's popcorn.

Andrew snorted, “Duh! But I like McKay better.”

“Really? He’s kind of an asshole.” Faith said stealing a handful of popcorn from Andrew’s bowl.

“Yeah, but he’s smart.” Xander said from his place sitting on the floor in front of the sofa. “And as everyone knows, smart and snarky equals hot.”

Andrew sighed, sadly, “The snark though has taken on a cruel edge between them.”

Xander rolled his eyes, “Well the man did blow up a solar system.”

“Five-sixths!” Vi said throwing some of the popcorn at Xander.

“You and Spike could really show them how true snark should be done.” Dawn said from a corner chair, where she was sitting in the lap of Connor Reilly, Angel had sent the teenager to them to keep him safe when the shit with Blackthorn went down. (Angel and Darla's son... Yeah, that story still didn't make any sense to Xander. He might not have ever liked Angel but Xander hadn’t thought the guy was stupid enough to fuck that bit of crazy again. Xander was wrong, Angel was that stupid.)

Connor's cheeks became redder and redder every time Dawn wiggled around on his lap.

Spike had show up at the castle a few weeks ago and after the crying and screaming was over and Spike recovered from the black eye Buffy gave him. Spike told them about Blackthorn and some of his other adventures and the last time he had seen Angel. From the moment Spike and Xander saw each other they picked up snarking at each other right from where the left off the last time they had seen each other. Verbal sparring with Spike was always fun. Spike was also the only one who could match him insult for insult and make it interesting each time.

Andrew nodded, “That would be so cool! I wish they could…”

A bright light filled the room as everyone yelled, “ANDREW” at him. When the light cleared they all blinked at foul language coming from the T.V.


Xander slowly sat up, blinking as the bright light cleared his vision and he could see again. Xander shook his head, he could hear Spike cussing up a storm. He looked around, the large airy room the walls were an array of reds bordering on pink in some places, a window to the right was huge and had stained glass with multiple shades of green and blue that invoked the feeling of the ocean, the floors were a gray color, it was in all a familiar setting, one he saw on one of his favorite television show to be familiar with it.

A handsome man with angler features with dark over styled hair, cold green eyes stood a few feet away holding a gun on him, wearing a black uniform with the Start Gate Atlantis symbol on the upper sleeve in gold lettering. Xander saw that he and Spike were surrounded by soldiers all wearing the Stargate Atlantis uniform. This was either a really elaborate cosplay or, Xander turned looking over his shoulder and saw the Stargate and growled out, “I’m going to kill Andrew!”


Faith leaned over the sofa arm next to Andrew, and said with quiet awe, “From the look on Xan’s face…and Spike’s language. You'd better hope they never find their way back from Atlantis.”

Andrew scoffed unconcerned but knew that if Xander ever did? Andrew was going to be a dead man... or at least wish, he was.

Chapter Text

Your Tilted Stage pt. 1
TW/Hannibal Crossover
OMC-Wyatt Hale/OMC-Henry Luthor, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale, Chris Argent/Isaac Layhe
Wyatt Hale, Henry Luthor, Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter, Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, Peter Hale, Chris Argent, Isaac Layhe, Scott McCall, Abigail Hobbs, Jack Crawford, Rafe McCall.
Summary: There is something Wrong with Wyatt Stilinski-Hale. The son of Stiles Stilinski and Derek Hale, everyone says so. Wyatt is an Empath that can feel what another feels so profoundly he can almost become them. After the murder of his Dads, Wyatt goes to live with Chris Argent in France.

It is there that Wyatt meets Henry Luthor, son of Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter. Henry takes an interest in Wyatt and wants to be his friend and Wyatt can’t figure out why. After all, Henry Luthor is slightly older than Wyatt, handsome, charming, the golden boy of his town…he’s so boringly normal.

What happens when the adopted son of a werewolf and a magical spark meets the adopted son of two serial killers? Chaos and death ensue, of course.

Word Count:2566


November 14, 2032
Belle Roseville, France.


The naked man near his late fifties with graying white-blond hair, his blue eyes dulled by death, positioned with care. He had been a fit man with just now getting his mid-life gut, though it was hard to tell with the way his chest and stomach had been split open, fanned out covering the corpse of the younger man, in a way that would seem almost protective. The younger man had light, long, curly ash-blonde hair, sharp cheekbones and still baby-faced though the younger man was somewhere near his late thirties, below him. The older man’s penis was lodged firmly in the younger man’s anus a horrid parody of an act of love and passion. Their death grimaces could be mistaken as another expression, that of la petite mort.

In the younger man’s hand, he held the heart of the older man, blood and other things, dripped over the younger ones, body. Two feet in front of them on a gold and silver platter lay the heart of the younger man with the older one reaching out for it. Dozens of pink Acacia Bloom surrounded them, Red Camellias, white Daisies, two or three Tiger Lilies, a half a dozen Yellow Roses and a handful of Blue Monkshood.

A golden pendulum swung back and forth to reveal a killer’s mind…

I hunted them for months now. It was not the first time I have killed, I am no stranger to death or the darkness that hides in the hearts of men.

It had to be perfect because he is perfection in my eyes. They represent his saviors, his fathers. How he loves them so, perhaps too much at times. For he would do anything for them.

The older man had been harder to catch than the younger. He was more cautious, and knew of the dangers that a pretty face could cause. It had been my first time dealing out death in such a way, before it had only been in the protection of my family.

But for the first time I wanted it to be artful, to be beautiful… Because of him.

I took them not in anger or even in passion but to show my love for…him.

The profane act is made sacred once more to his eyes.
So, that he could see… I understand him. That I see him.

This is my design.


“Will?” a smooth accented voice asked.

Opening his eyes, Will Graham, turned away from the window, from the sight of the police officers, of their small town going over his front yard for evidence to find who had done this horribly, beautiful thing. The macabre tableau of passion in death, it was something Hannibal would have once made for Will during their courtship period, something that was—outside his window in their front yard!

“It’s a teenager, Hannibal.” Will said, the corner of his mouth quirking up in amusement, “A love-struck teenager.” Hannibal only looked blandly at Will. Will sighed, “A teenager, killed those men and left them in our front yard, Hannibal, as a courting gift.”

“Yes, Will, that’s obvious. But for who?”

Will ran a hand over his face in a tired gesture. “For Henry.”

“Are you sure?”

Will nodded, his gaze narrowed in thought, “I’m sure I know who did it too.”




Chapter One.

There was something wrong with Wyatt Stilinski-Hale.

The boy was the human child of werewolf parents that had been killed by Hunters when he was six. Wyatt spent the next two and half years being used by the Hunters as a lure to kill other werewolves and supernatural beings. His adopted fathers knew, that the boy had issues. Since Stiles Stilinski and Derek Hale were the ones that found Wyatt and recused him from the Hunters.

Chris Argent sighed running a hand through his grayer, than white-blonde hair in frustration. He knew his lover would not be happy with his decision to take the fourteen-year-old in but with the deaths of Stiles Stilinski and Derek Hale, Wyatt was the sole heir to the Hale fortune and Chris was not about to leave the boy to Scott McCall’s mercy. Not if what he thinks happened the night Stiles and Derek were killed, was right anyway. Scott McCall would be the last person Chris would leave the boy with since Scott had been trying to get his hands on the Hale’s money for years…and failing at it.

Wyatt had been in a cationic state for the past month and a half, sequester in Echein House. Since shortly after Wyatt was found with the bodies of two Hunters with their necks snapped cleanly, dead at his feet, and the Hale family home ablaze. Chris watched Wyatt as he sat in a chair in a drab room with sky blue walls at a cheap wooden table staring at nothing, while Lydia Martin and Scott McCall had the same argument they had been having ever since Chris had arrived a week ago.

“…You can’t take him out of here, Lydia!” The Latino man exclaimed, with a low growl, “There is something wrong with the kid! There always was… I warned Stiles—"

The scarlet haired woman cut Scott off with a glared, “There is nothing wrong with Wyatt!”

“Lydia! He needs help!’

“Wyatt needs not to be here, Scott! When has this place ever helped anyone?”

Chris didn’t need to hear this fight again, “Enough! The both of you! Fighting with each other will not help, Wyatt. He needs to be our main concern now that…” he trailed off when a young male voice whispered hoarsely,

“Where am I?”

Lydia and Scott jerked out of their glaring contest to look at Wyatt. As he blinked his eyes rapidly, looking at a corner of the room with a flash of fear before reaching up to rub at them.

“You are in Echien House, Wyatt,” Lydia said in a calm tone. Chris watched the dark-haired teen focus his gaze on Lydia.

“Why am I in the local crazy house?” Wyatt asked, frowning. Lydia explained that Wyatt had been in a cationic state. Wyatt looked around the room. Chris closed his eyes with a grimace knowing who the boy was looking for, “Where are my parents, Aunt Lydia.”

“Do you remember what happened?” Lydia asked, softly.

“Where are my parents?” Wyatt repeated the question desperately.

Lydia’s eyes filled with tears, “Oh, Wyatt…”

Chris knew that the official story was that the Stilinski-Hale home had been the victims of a house invasion. The real story was that Hunters from a lower branch the Calavera Hunting family had attacked the household that night. What Chris didn’t understand is why neither Stiles nor Derek had survived. Chris was sure one of them would have, if for no other reason than to make sure their son wasn’t left alone.

Chris blinked when he heard Scott say,

“Wyatt will come with me. As his legal guardian—”

Lydia cut him off again, “You know good and well that Stiles and Derek changed their wills months ago and replaced you as Wyatt’s guardian with Chris and me. What I still can’t figure out is why? What did you do to make them think Wyatt wouldn’t be safe with you anymore?”

“Nothing, Lydia!” Scott exclaimed, “Stiles was getting more and more paranoid. He was seeing enemies everywhere! And Derek always did whatever Stiles wanted.”

Chris ran a hand over his face. “Maybe you should ask what Wyatt wants?” Chris turned to look at Wyatt, “What do you want?”

“I want to go home.”

“Wyatt,” Lydia began to say, “the house…”

“Burnt down, your parents are dead.” Scott cut in, coldly. Lydia shot him a look so angry Chris thought it was a wonder that the Alpha werewolf didn’t self-combust on the spot. “You shouldn’t sugar coat it. He won’t thank you for it.” Scott said ignoring Lydia’s look.

Tears of grief fill Wyatt’s eyes at Scott’s words. Sometimes, only sometimes did Chris miss the clueless teenage newly bitten werewolf that had once dated his daughter. This was one of those times. At least that teenager had compassion, it was something that the adult Scott McCall lacked at times.

Chris sighed, and asked Wyatt, “Do you want to stay in Beacon Hills or do you want to come with me?”

For a moment the teenager said nothing looking down at the table, then a shuddering sigh ending in a slight flinch, as he glanced once more to the corner of the room before he asked, “How is France this time of year anyway?”



He can hear his Dad’s howl echoing in his ears, it’s a call for help to their Alpha. Gunshots, fire rapidly through the hallway, he can hear his Tata startled cry, he froze. Though not in fear, just in indecision. He had been told to get out of the house by his Uncle Peter, which he had by now? Now two Hunters stood barring the way to freedom. Wyatt held out his hand, a trickle of blood ran from his nose and…the Hunters’ necks snap almost in unison before falling to the ground dead.

More screams, but Wyatt can’t care, the house, smoke began to pour from the home, on the wind was the scent of wolfsbane and gunpowder.

He burns with rage and turns toward the house, blood is wet, red, and sticky on his hands. His heart is heavy with the knowledge…where is the Alpha, the Pack? They should have heard his Dad’s howl. In the distance sirens scream in the night.

When he opens his eyes, he’ll know…

“They’re gone…” Wyatt whispered into his wet-tear stained pillow. He grimaced at the sweat-soaked sheets, a side effect of the vivid nightmares he’s been having for a while now. Wyatt looked around his room in Chris Argent’s house in France. It was a nice room and Uncle Chris had been kind to him. Uncle Isaac had been welcoming if distance.

Wyatt ran a hand over his sweat-soaked shirt before pulling it off over his head and dropping it to the floor as he got out of bed. He stripped the sheets off the bed and dumped them on the floor as well. He’d remake the bed after he showered. Wyatt walked into the bathroom, blinked as the brightness of the light as it hit his eyes. He turned on the shower and got out of his sleeping pants and boxers.

Wyatt shivered in the cold bathroom while he waited for the water to heat up, he heard a low growling purr come from behind him. Wyatt didn’t look, don't look. He felt warm, silky fur brush slid along his hip. Wyatt looked down at the creature, it was feline, resembling a mountain lion but for the color of pure gold of its fur, and its eyes they were a bright glowing sapphire surrounded by an onyx mask of black fur around its eyes and nose and mouth.

Great, Wyatt thought, the hallucinations were getting worse. “Go away,” he told the phantom cat. The feline purred loudly, as Wyatt got in the shower, but was gone before he closed the curtain.

(Wyatt going and exploring the town)

Chapter Two.

(Henry backstory some)
(Wyatt and Henry meeting at the coffee shop)

“When someone is reading in a coffee shop? It means they don’t want to be bothered.” The boy said without looking up from his book.

“It was the only free seat.” Henry lied. There were other seats by this boy was new in town, had been taken in by the Argents if the rumors in town were right, and they usually were, no one knew their stuff like the old gossips of Belle Roseville.

The boy sighed, “There is one free table in the back corner,” he said without looking, “a free chair with those girls and one by the front door.”

“True.” Henry nodded, “But this is the table I normally sit at when I come here. I…I don’t like a change in my routines.” No, Henry’s routines were vital to him and he kept to them when he could.

The boy glanced at him then back down at his book, “Whatever.”

Henry took a deep breath before he said, “Henry Luthor,” introducing himself to the antisocial boy across the table, holding out his hand. Wondering if the other would take it.

“Wyatt Stilinski-Hale,” Wyatt replied not looking up but did shake Henry’s hand.

Rude Henry thought.

The younger boy was very unremarkable with his dark brown hair that was ground out from what looked to be a bowl hair-cut, falling almost to his shoulders. His skin was pale as if he was getting over an illness or perhaps he just avoided the sun whenever he could. Wyatt’s eyes were, when he looked up so Henry could see them, were a light sweet honey color. He was no great beauty in any way but for some reason he held Henry’s attention the way no one ever had so far. That was Interesting, so, Henry decided to forgive him for it just this once.

“Are you new in town?” Henry asked, knowing the answer already.

“Obviously.” Wyatt said, rolling his eyes in annoyance.
It was strange how Wyatt avoided eye contact. It reminded Henry of his Papa when he and his Father played their games outside of the house wearing their well-crafted person suits so no one could see what they hid. Henry wondered what Wyatt was hiding. Would it be amusing to find out? Henry wondered, “You don’t like eye contact, do you?”

“Eyes are…distracting. They show too much, yet, at the same time can hide everything. Sometimes I can see too much, things I don’t want too. Other people can’t see enough…distracting, you see?”

Intrigued Henry asked, “What do you see?”

Wyatt put down his book, with a sigh, “If you want conversation you are going to be disappointed,” he said changing the subject, “I don’t talk to people.”

Henry frowned, “I don’t care if you talk to people. I want you to talk to me. Besides isn’t this a conversation? Is it speaking in general or socializing that is difficult or you?”

“Both. You could say I have an overdeveloped sense of Empathy.”

“All humans have Empathy or should.” Henry said, at least that’s what his Papa told him.

Wyatt shook his head, “I have it in spades. It makes people uncomfortable around me. I can empathize with someone until I almost become them. It’s… “Wyatt stopped, frowning at Henry, “Why am I telling you this?”

Henry shrugged, “I’m easy to talk too. Friends should be able to talk to each other, don’t you think?”

“What makes you think,” Wyatt looked straight into Henry’s eyes, “that I want to be your friend, Luthor?”

“Because you are sitting in a coffee shop, alone, reading a book.”

Wyatt dropped his eyes back down to the table top, he shifted in his seat, then stood up, “I’m leaving.”

Wyatt walked past Henry, but the other boy grabbed Wyatt by the wrist as he passed him causing Wyatt to freeze at the touch in surprise. No one had touched him since his Dads had—Wyatt cut off that thought.

“I’ll see you soon, Wyatt Stilinski-Hale.” Henry promised. Wyatt jerked his arm from Henry’s grasp and ran out of the coffee shop. Henry watched him go in amusement, much in the way a cat does to the mouse it’s playing with, right before going in for the kill.

Chapter Text

Fandom: Star Wars: Sequel Trilogy

Pairings: Female Armitage Hux/ Ben Solo-Kylo Ren, Female Armitage Hux/ Matt-The Radar Technician, Ben Solo-Kylo Ren/Rey

Tags: Clones, Matt- the Radar Technician is and is not Kylo Ren-Ben Solo, Clones,

Warnings: None yet

Summary: If anyone had told Armitage Hux three years ago, that she would be happily living the life of a moisture farmer on Tatooine, she would have laughed. Armitage knew she owed much of it to Matt Agrona, the man that had sat down from her across a table in the Mos Eisley Cantina, where she had been trying to drink away her memories of being almost killed by Pryde, her failures at beating the Resistance and of course, Kylo Ren’s betrayal of everything they had worked together to build all for the chance to crawl between that Scavenger girl’s thighs… Bitter? No, Armitage isn’t angry, she’s just still furious. When the recently re-named Ben Solo and said Scavenger shows up on her doorstep? Will everything that Armitage has built on Tatooine, with Matt, come crashing down around her?


Chapter One


A bead of sweat rolled down between Armitage’s tits, soaking into her undershirt, as the heat of the mid-day sun beats harshly down an upon on her. It was a stifling, the dry desert heat, there was no relief from it not even in the shade as she was, dressed in light clothing for the environment. She could live with the heat, the lack of rain, not that it didn’t rain, here, on Tatooine. It did but it was rare for it to do so outside of the rainy season. And the rainy season only lasted about three to six weeks.


Tatooine would…bloom. While it could never be compared with Endor, there would be blooming desert wildflowers, tall grasses, even the dry dead-looking mushroom-shaped trees would perk up and turned an array of dazzling colors from dark forest green to fiery orange, what she couldn’t stand was the sand; it was course and it got into everything and everywhere. Everywhere.


She fiddled with the mechanize locking system of the front door to the old building. The main house of the moisture farm had been here since the pre-Clone Wars era, and much of the added tech was old Empire, both techs were still functional, if slightly temperamental at times. What she wouldn’t give to see First Order tech again! Seriously, the tech was the best thing to come out of the Order, Armitage could admit that…now.


The lock had been sticking for the last year or so, more of an annoyance, really than something that needed her immediate attention on the moisture farm. Keeping the moisture evaporators working was a fulltime job in and of itself. It was a strange thing that out of all of the tech on the farm, it was always the moisture evaporators that were still going on the frizz. If it wasn’t for the trade agreement, she had made with the Tusken Raiders, a couple of years ago, Armitage would swear they were sabotaging them.


Armitage jerked her head up when she heard the whine of a speeder engine. She frowned and closed the panel to the locking system and dropped the tool she had been using to fix it into the toolbox at her side, she closed the toolbox and stood up dusting the sand off of her pants. She wasn’t expecting anyone today. She did repair work, equipment, speeders and droids. Most of the time people caught her in Mos Eisley or Espa and made proper arrangements but every once in awhile someone would stop by unannounced.


Armitage watched as a speeder that might have once been a cherry red when it was new before the Clone Wars. Now it was a pale faded pastel pink. It pulled up a few feet in front of the house. She could see there were two people, the man that got out of the speeder was tall with a warrior build to him, and he was a seasoned one if the way he moved was anything to go by and Armitage had the feeling it was at that. His thick raven-colored hair was worn just pasted his shoulders, covering overly big ears. The scar that bisected his face ran from his forehead between his eye and nose, down his cheek and neck was large, yes, and noticeable but did not de-track from the attractiveness of the man. The woman had brunette hair, done up in an elaborate hairstyle with a few braids that had beads handing at the ends of them. She had wide brown eyes that dominated her face, giving her a deceivingly delicate appearance. She also had the more common sense between the two and wore the light-colored, desert appropriate clothing while the man was wearing all black! Armitage pushed the sun-shades up on her head with an annoyed sigh. These were the last two people in the galaxy she wanted to deal with today.


Or, you know, ever. But the universe seemed to like making Armitage’s life as difficult as possible.


“What are you doing here!” Rey Skywalker-Solo exclaimed, wide-eyed when she got a good look at Armitage, Rey turned to her husband, “Ben! What is she doing here! I thought she was dead!”


“So does the rest of the universe,” Armitage muttered, pushing a lock of her fiery copper colored hair back from her face, “and I would like to keep it that way.


Ben Solo gave Rey a chagrinned look, “It was years ago when it was decided that we should use this place as a safe house.”


That was back when Armitage had thought she could trust this man with her life, her people, her…Armitage shook those thoughts away. Those thoughts and that time were best forgotten.


“I,” Ben glanced at Armitage with a look one might call regret, (but Armitage knew the man regretted not one single action he took against her or about what he had done to her, what he let Pryde do to her,) she glared back at him, “forgot that the systems to the farm were keyed to her biometrics as well as my own.”


Rey gave Ben an angry look, “That doesn’t explain why, she,” as she points to Armitage, “is alive! You told me, told the Resistance, under oath, that she was dead! How is she alive, Ben!”


Ben shrugged, “She’s Armitage Hux, Rey.” As if that answered Rey’s question, and as far as Ben was concerned, it did, “I’ve never been able to figure out how she has been able to do the things she’s done. I just assumed that, like my father, she is one of the few non-Force users that the Force favors.”


“Your oath…” Rey started, but Ben cuts her off,


“I was half dead from saving you and fighting off the Knights of Ren. I was barely given any medical treatment in a lot of pain when question about the First Order and what I knew of it. As for my oath,” Ben shrugged again, “Hux was dead…from a certain point of view.”


A…Certain…Point…Of…View?” Rey hissed, darkly.


Ben hastily stepped back from Rey, “Well, Pryde certainly thought she was dead.”


Armitage spoke, “As amusing as it would be,” the two Jedis turned at the sound of Armitage’s voice, their attention now focused on her once more, “to watch Ren get what is coming to him? You need to move the speeder into the garage and bring in your things.”


“Why?” Asked Ben.


Armitage looked past them, to the darkening sky, felt the warm breeze picking up speed, “There's a storm coming…”

Chapter Text

After Life




Armitage Hux woke to the sound of water… rolling over, the bright green grass soft under her fingertips, she could see the flower petal latten pool, flowing into a softly gurgling fountain. The last thing that she remembered was…being shot by Pryde on the bridge of the Steadfast, her final thoughts being that she hoped Kylo Ren would lose, that the resistance would beat Palatine and destroy the last remnants of the Empire. For the Empire was not the First Order, not the dream that Rae Sloane conceived, and that Armitage had spent her whole life trying to bring to life!

“Oh, you’re awake!” A soft female voice said brightly. Armitage turned to see a beautiful woman with kind brown eyes, sitting on a bench. She was wearing a dark green dress that had a hood, which was pulled up over her curly dark brown hair.

“She’s awake!” The woman said louder, and the sound of approaching footsteps sounded. A woman with sandy blonde hair wearing a gray dress, she looked a lot like the woman on the bench. Armitage assumed they were sisters. Their resembling each other was that strong.

“So, she is Padme.” Said the blonde woman going over to sit next to Padme.

“You, Skywalkers, are such a dramatic bunch! I was enjoying the quiet!” A woman in a black jumpsuit muttered as she came into sight. The woman’s eyes shone with amusement, her bright crimson hair, caught Armitage’s eye, it was such a rare color in the galaxy.

“Why are you complaining, Mara, you wanted to meet Armitage, as much as the rest of us,” Padme said, grinning.

“Well, of course, I wanted to meet her! She was three moves away from becoming the new Empress of the Galaxy! I have no doubts she would have done it too, if not for that idiot son of Leia’s!” Mara said, sitting down on the grass next to the blonde woman’s feet, throwing an arm over the woman’s lap, looking up at her, “Sometimes I think you were the smart one, Tsabin-Sabe, for not marrying a Skywalker.”

Tsabin-Sabe sighed, grimacing, “No, I did something far worse; I married the Kenobi.”

“It wasn’t my fault that Han, drop our son on his head one too many times as a child!” Leia Organa-Solo’s voice rang out as she stepped into the garden. Armitage took a deep breath at how much the woman reminded her of Kylo Ren. Leia gave Armitage a long once over and Armitage knew the woman found her lacking…

“I wondered for years what tempted my son to stay with the First Order for so long. Now I understand.” Leia said.
Armitage blinked, confused, “I’m sorry, General Organa, but I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Ah, that’s right, Ben never shared his true name with you, did he?” Leia said, a smirk coming to her lips, “You knew him as Kylo Ren.”

“What is this place?” Armitage asked.

“The After Life, you died, Armitage Hux,” Leia said.

“I knew that.” Armitage said, “Why am I here, with you?”

“Because my son loves you.”

Armitage laughed harshly, “Love is for children. He never loved me.”

“Yet, he shared no bed but yours, until he died.” Mara said softly, a faraway look in her eyes, “Not all of us were so lucky.”

“Why am I here?” Armitage muttered, again.

“Because you have a chance to get what you didn’t get to have in life,” Padme said.

“And what’s that?” Armitage asked.

“Him,” Padme said, softly, plainly, “All of him.”

Chapter Text

Fandoms: Teen Wolf/BtVS/Angel/LotRs/Hobbit/Smallville/Merlin/MCU/Avatar: Last Air Bender/Highlander/My Right-Hand Man/Phantom Halo Massive Crossover

Pairings: Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski/Xander Harris, Derek Hale/Xander Harris, Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale/Xander Harris, John Stilinski/ Melissa McCall, Rupert Giles/Jessica Harris/Joyce Summers, Scott McCall/Isaac Layhe

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, John Stilinski, Melissa McCall, Scott McCall, Allison Argent, Peter Hale, Bilbo Baggins, Isaac Layhe, Marion Morell, Lex Luthor, Xander Harris, Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd, Theo Raeken, Clark Kent, James ‘Bucky’ Barnes, Katara, Rupert Giles, Lionel Luthor, Jessica Harris, Joyce Summers, Edward Nygma, Steve Harrington, Katara, Methos, Samuel Emerson

Warnings/Tags: Rule 63, Female Xander Harris, Female Bilbo Baggins, Alpha/Beta/Omega, Ménage, Threesome, Polyamory, Sci-fi, Historical, Clones



                                   CHAPTER ONE


“…In the Nineteenth Year of Lionel Luthor- the Mad Emperor’s rule. Gerard Argent’s, involvement in the destruction of Krypton, after it came to light, it made many of the subjects of the Planetary Alliance…uneasy. Genocide is not something many want to think can happen in such enlightened times- nor can one contemplate the reasons behind the actions. History will one day say that the proceeding events that lead to the Fox-Silver War were because of how beloved John Stilinski was among the Grande Houses of the Planetary Alliance. To understand what initiated the Fox-Silver War, one must grasp the significance of the planets and individuals involved…”


       -History of the Fox-Silber War.

         By: Clark El-Kent-Luthor, Consort Royal of Imperial House Nogitsune, Lord of House El-Kent.



The Crimson Zone.

Planet: Beacon

Home of House Stilinski.



       “…Alpha, Beta, Omega, and Females. These four genders rule the universe.” The teacher droned in a near monotone, “It is a known fact that the only difference in an alpha male and a beta male is their genitals. Alpha Males have knots that swell on the base of their penis for breeding, locking into a female or the omega they are going to breed offspring with, Beta males do not. Omegas have male and female reproductive organs and genitals. They can bear offspring with alphas and betas and also sire offspring with females. Most Omegas identify as male in their gender. Though some Omegas do identify as female in gender, many believe that gender identity among Omegas is fluid. Omegas give birth to offspring in the same way and are pregnant for the same length of time as a Female.”


Stiles Stilinski leaned back in his chair with his eyes closed, pretending to be to sleep. He could feel the rush of heat on his face at his teacher’s words.


“Alpha Males and Omegas are a genetic throwback to a time when most Females in the Universe were wiped out by a plague that no one remembers the name of or its point of origin. Though many historians theorize that its origin was that of the lost homeworld of the human race, Terra.” The teacher spoke on, finding this subject as interesting as Stiles did from her tone. Which was to say not at all.


Miss Bella Baggins had been his teacher for the last five years. A dark-haired Hobbit beauty, with only a few silver strands, causing her hair to glisten with natural high lights, and she had lightly tanned skin, if it weren’t for her clipped Arda accent and short stature, she could have been mistaken for a Beaconite native.


“Science found a way to give males the ability to have offspring...hoping for Female children to replace the dwindling Female population. It succeeded but not for many generations. Even now, on some planets, the ratio of females to males is four females to two males. With all the changes to male genetics, mutations were bound to happen. Alphas Males are a mutation that became a predominate one on most worlds of the Planetary Alliance.” Miss Baggins said as she paced, the skirts of her russet-colored dress brushing against the floor.


This, Stiles knew, was a bitter fact of life. The lecture was unneeded. Why was he being forced to sit through it? Did his father think that he didn’t understand his duty? It’s not like it was Stiles’ fault he was born an Omega. He knew this…hey, am I falling? Stiles hit the floor of the educational room with a dull thud; a shock of pain shooting up his back, he looked up into sepia-colored eyes gazing down at him.


Miss. Baggins expression was that of concern, as she moved her foot from the rung of the chair, she inquired, “Are you alright, My Lord?”


Stiles frowned, looking up at his teacher, “Did…did you kick, my chair out from under me?”


“Are you accusing me of less than lady-like behavior, my lord?” Miss. Baggins asked a little smirk at the corner of her mouth, tilting her head to the side, causing her long braid, her curls trying to escape from it, to fall over her shoulder.


Stiles’ eyes wide and with a quick shake of his head said, “No, Miss. Baggins.”


“Good. Pick up your seat and will start with the Ruling Laws of Beacon.”


Stiles wondered as he picked up his chair and sat back at his desk, why they were repeating lessons. He learned those years ago. Which was so unfair! Because if Stiles had been born a woman? There would be no question if he could or should rule Beacon. Stiles would be able to do so. But John Stilinski followed the traditions of the Inheritance Laws. It was utter cat-shit because an Omega could inherit the title of a Great House on Beacon and some planets of the Zones? Omegas were the rulers! The members of the ruling Quartet of the Planetary Alliance have been Omegas in the past! Even the Emperor of the Universe answered to the Quartet! The Emperor’s son was an Omega, and he was going to rule the Universe one day!


But an Omega could not rule Beacon. Utter cat-shit!


“My Lord!” Miss. Baggins said, harshly, “Please pay attention! I know your birthday week celebration is almost upon us, but you still have lessons to learn.”


Stiles sat back in his chair, rolling his eyes, that was right. He turned eighteen this cycle.

It’s going to be a reason for the people of Beacon got to party for a week and to have days off. For Stiles, it was going to be a week of dealing with jealousy half-siblings, political maneuvering, and receiving things he didn’t want or had no use for.


In short? A diplomatic nightmare, he was going to be forced to take part. And if Stiles was fortunate? No one from any of the Houses from Violet Zone or Black Zone would show up. If Stiles hadn’t been the son of the Duke’s favorite mistress, deceased and fondly remember as she was? Stiles would only get a day, like the other illegitimate but acknowledged children, that the Duke had in the Great Houses of Beacon.


Stiles didn’t want to deal with anyone from the Violet Zone. The Imperial House, to be exact, especially not the heir to the Known Universe. The Imperial Prince was such a bitch to deal with most of the time. More so when sent out to rub elbows with the children of the Grande and Great Houses for his father’s political maneuverings. The rumors coming from the Gray Zone were disturbing, to say the least. Though many of the Houses in the Gray Zone had tried to keep things on the low-down stories about interdimensional monsters, inhumane experimentation and children with superpowers were slowly making their way through the Planetary Alliance.

The Demon Horde was pushing against the outskirts of the Bronze Zone. Stiles knew it was just a matter of time before the Houses of the Bronze Zone asked for help from the Planetary Alliance. No one wanted the Horde to gain more than the small foot hole they already had in the Bronze Zone.



"…It is a long-standing tradition that the brides of Beacon are given a boon or gift by their Alpha-husband, Omega Consort, or Female Bond-mate to be. It is also a common tradition among many of the Grande and Great Houses of the Planetary Alliance with some variations—" Miss. Baggins was cut off at the sound of a blaring alarm, the lights in the room diming and changing to an angry scarlet glow making the room looked like it was covered in blood. Stiles jumped out of his seat and ran out of the room, ignoring Miss. Baggins as she called after him. Stiles had only one destination in mind.


The throne rooms.


Stiles ran down many hallways, twisting and turning quite a few corners, dodging people in light tan-brown and forest green uniforms. Stiles straightened his formal crimson-colored military-queue tunic jacket; he ran a hand over harsh lines of the black and purple fox that looked like it was eating golden double suns, that was on the left of his chest, out of nervous habit. Walking into the throne room Stiles' ears rang from the booming sound of the alarm blaring through the palace. The signal was only supposed to sound during an attack, and since no hostile forces had taken over the palace, Stiles wondered why it was still going off. It looked like someone had jumped the gun on pushing the button for it. Stiles watched as the members of the Court run around like headless chickens.


Useless, Stiles thought, the lot of them. He looked around the room until he found his father, pacing in front of the golden throne with stylized double suns carved on it, the symbol of the Grande House Stilinski of Planet Beacon.


“Someone shut off that noise!” John Stilinski, Grande Duke, ruler of Beacon, shouted, irritable. The expression on his face, combined with the tired look in sky-blue eyes, was enough to tell Stiles the situation was a grave one. Stiles walked up to his father as the older man ran a hand through graying blond hair. The crows-feet around his eyes were from the constant worry that came from ruling a planet. Something that was never going to be Stiles’ problem. His father was going to have to choose from the many Alpha bastards he had among Great and Noble Houses of Beacon for an heir. Stiles wasn’t bitter about that, not at all. He knew he had been lucky enough to be raised in House Stilinski after his mother’s death. Stiles didn’t need or want the throne of Beacon. He had enough on his plate with being the Heir of his mother’s house, Nogitsune.


“What’s going on, Dad?” Stiles asked. It was not his father who answered him.


“Mieczyslaw, you must start addressing the Grande Duke more formally. You are no longer a child.” Lady Melissa McCall scolded.

Stiles winced as the woman butchered his real name. Melissa was a classic Beaconite beauty a few years younger than his father’s age with the deep dark brown eyes that were common among Noble Houses of Beacon. Melissa's skin tanned from the double suns that shown down on the desert planet. Though a few shades lighter than a commoner would have due to her life as a noblewoman, her exposure to the suns was less.


“When you start addressing me by my formal title,” Stiles paused, glaring at the older woman, she had never once addressed him as Lord Nogitsune. She had some gall telling him how he should treat his father, “perhaps I’ll do the same for my father. You need to remember that you are not my mother and have no right to reprimand me.”


“Stiles! Do not speak to Lady McCall in such a manner!”


Huh, Stiles thought, the woman must be sharing dad’s bed at the moment. His father only scolded him about what he said to Melissa when she did. “I’m sorry, Your Grace, for putting your mistress in her place,” Stiles muttered, “since you aren’t going to do it.”


John Stilinski snorted at his son humorlessly. “Mel knows her place. She doesn’t need a snot-nosed brat telling her where it is.”


Melissa glared at Stiles as she brushed nonexistence dirt from the emerald silk skirts of her short-sleeved day dress. Wrapped around her upper right arm, she bore the two solid thick black bands of her House’s symbol. The tattooing of a House symbol onto oneself when coming of age had become a widespread practice twenty years ago and had yet to fall out of favor on most planets.


“Stiles, stop picking fights with her,” John said as he walked to over the consul with the vid-screen. It was showing a small red dot that was Stiles knew was a ship at least the size of a small personal vessel or a large escape shuttle orbiting the planet. Stiles stepped closer to the consul to get a better look at the screen.


“Is that…” Stiles started to ask but was spoke over by a beautiful young, ebony-skinned woman with long, straight, black hair.


“Ten minutes ago, we received a distress signal from a Silber Pleasure Craft. It claims to have been attacked by Camelot Forces.” The woman wore the dark forest green robes of the Emissary of Tala Nane. The Druids had a hand in everything thing that went on in the universe and a present on every planet. The worship of the Four Goddesses and the Old Religion was two of the main four practiced in the Planetary Alliance. Stiles shook his head in confusion. If a Camelot battleship had attacked this ship? No one would have known it. The Prince General of Camelot would have made sure of that. Camelot’s space fleet was third largest in the Alliance. Beacon’s coming first and Metropolis coming in second.


“Did they say why they were attacked, Emissary Morell?” Scott McCall asked, walking over to the consul, a worried look in the brown colored eyes he shared with his mother, though he didn’t have the same glint of cunning in them as she had. He pushed back his floppy black hair from his forehead then ran a hand along his slightly angular jawline. His tan uniform bore his house symbol on his right sleeve, on the collar of his tunic jacket, he had the double suns of Beacon, the mark of a vassal lord of House Stilinski.


“No. All that came through was a garbled request for sanctuary.” The emissary said.


Well, that’s not good. Stiles thought. It was never a good thing when a ship other than an Imperial one left the Violet Zone. The people of that Zone were profoundly xenophobic and rarely left it. The only exception was when someone married into a House that was in a different region of the Universe. But that hadn’t happened in the last hundred years. Though there had been some talk of Grande House Argent of Planet Silber, joining Grande House Hale of Planet Triskelia five years ago, it never happened. There had never been any valid explanation as to why, though the rumor was that Kathrine Argent had made untoward advances towards the third son of House Hale. Queen Talia Hale had banished Kathrine Argent off of Planet Triskelia.


Stiles frowned at the expression on his father’s face, “You’re not considering giving whoever is on that ship sanctuary, are you? There have been Imperial ships bearing the Fleur-de-lis insignia have been attacking Lycan ships ever since—”


John cut him off, “Despite what rumor might say we don’t know for sure it’s Grande House Argent that has been attacking the Lycan ships. Emperor Luthor has no reason to attack a planet in the Planetary Alliance. Everyone knows that to attack our sister planet, Triskelia would mean going to war with us. Besides, son,” John smiled, but it was weak, “helping whoever it is on that ship will only ensure better relations between Metropolis, Silber, and Beacon. We have to be careful in our dealings with them. Our intel is that House Argent is building up their space fleet with the help of Emperor Luthor.”


Stiles knew that his father right; it didn’t mean at he had to like it.


“Will there be war?” Scott asked.


“That is what we are trying to avoid,” John said softly.


Twenty minutes later, Stiles was standing next to his father’s throne when the doors to the throne room are thrown open. General Gibbs, a striking man in his late forties with graying-brown hair and Beacon brown eyes, he marched into the room, leading a pretty, girl with skin that had a bright silvery sheen, like it had been covered in silver glitter, her brown-almost black hair was in a sleek, elegant bun. Her soft, innocent coffee-colored eyes reminded Stiles of a delicate furry creature that was native to Triskelia. She couldn’t have been much older than Stiles. The girl also wore the gray and white armored uniform of an Elite Silber solider.


“I am Allison Argent, the Last Daughter of Grande House Argent, of Planet Silber, cousin to Imperial House Luthor. You will grant my request for sanctuary, Grande Duke of Beacon?” The girl asked, her words formal and distilled, a sure sign that she had a Babble-Fish translator implant. Most Grande and Great Houses got them because many married into other off-world Houses for political reasons, not everyone spoke Standard Esperanto, and it got awkward when you couldn’t understand when your spouse was insulting you.


“I’m thinking about it,” John said as he sat down on his throne.


Allison raised her chin, proudly, “I have two demands, cousin.”


Stiles wondered if she meant to say that or if the Babble-Fish just translated that wrong?


As far as Stiles knew, there was no relation between House Beacon and that of House Argent. While it was true that most Grande Houses are blood relations or related because of marriage bonds, not all Grande Houses were associated with each other. Many of Grande Houses were descendants of the Original Thirteen Colonies of the Children of the lost planet of Terra, which colonized the known universe more than three thousand cycles ago.


The king frowned at her, “You are not in any position to be making demands, child. But as a kindness, I’ll hear them out.”


“War is coming, Ruler of Beacon. I want protection during it. My family…” Allison trailed off, looking upset, “the members of my House are going down a path of which I should not follow. Trying to make war upon on Triskelia and other planets of the like,” she shook her head, “my father sent me here because though you may be Triskelia's closest and strongest ally, you are also a fair man. He sent me here because he knew you would keep me safe. He said you were a good friend to him once.”


John nodded, “I remember Chris Argent, well.” The soft tone John spoke in caused Melissa to stiffen. Ahh, Stiles thought, the man must have been one of dad’s past lovers. The past lovers of John Stilinski were the only thing that caused Melissa to get that pinched look on her face.


“My father’s hands are tied since he abdicated the throne. My grandfather seized power after my grandmother’s death. He deemed my Aunt Kate as unfit to rule after what happened with Triskelia. The Emperor has refused to step in and stop my grandfather’s insanity. I fear what he may be planning.” Allison said.


It was never a good thing when the Emperor of the Universe decides to let his subjects fight each other unchecked.


“Why didn’t you take control?” Stiles asked. “Silber is a matriarchal society. It would make sense that the people of Silber would prefer a Female’s rule to that of a male.”

Allison looked at him, surprised. Stiles remembered that Omegas on Silber were seen but rarely heard.

“I’m underaged. I have to be twenty-one cycles before I could be crowned, and I’m only eighteen, though if my Aunt Kate as her way? I won’t ever live to be Queen of Silber.” Allison told them.


John nodded at this, “And your other demand?”


“The choice of who I am to marry.”


John barked out a cold laugh, “You are a bold one, Last Daughter of Silber. Your political worth is your only value as a refugee. If I abide by that demand, you have nothing to offer Beacon or my House.”


Allison pulled a USB from a pocket on her armor, “My grandfather’s attack plans for the next six months.”


Stiles groaned, “Those plans are only good for an attack or two before your grandfather realizes you have them if he doesn’t already. They're worthless.”


Allison looked confused before she asked, “Why do you continue to allow this Omega to speak?”


It was her detersive tone that caused every Omega in the room to glare her. Stiles barely took notice when Isaac Layhe moved closer to him, though the putout look on the cherubic-looking Omega’s face told Stiles all he needed to know about the knight’s thoughts on the Argent Princess.


Oh, no, she didn’t, Stiles thought, but said, coldly, “Omegas,” Stiles stressed the word, “are allowed to speak their minds, own property and to do what they want so long as they don’t break any laws. Is that not the same on Silber?” Stiles questioned mockingly, knowing full well it wasn’t but wanted to hear the girl say it anyway.


“Omegas are bonded with their Alpha, Beta, and/or Female. They are pretty, gentle creatures meant for the care of the children in the Union and to keep the home. Omegas aren’t meant for anything else.”


Before Stiles knew it, he was in motion towards the princess, a hand on the handle of the Lightening Whip at his waist, anger in his eyes, but before he could get near the girl, he was grabbed by Isaac, “Think before you act,” he whispered harshly, into Stiles' ear. Isaac’s curly ash blonde hair fell over his gold glowing Lycan eyes.


Stiles shook off Isaac’s hold, as he said, “I’m only going to give you one warning, princess. Speak like that again to any Omega on Beacon, and you will find yourself in unwelcome circumstances. Omegas are free to do as they please.”


Allison smiled, slowly, sweetly, slyly, “But rule Beacon.”


Stiles clenched his teeth. That was true, and it wasn’t going to change any time soon.


“A word of advice, Last Daughter, if you wish sanctuary here? Don’t make an enemy of my son.” John said, his face severe, but amusement laced his tone.


“You will grant me sanctuary?”


Strange how that still sounded like an order, Stiles thought.


John nodded and motion to Scott, “We would never turn away someone in need. Lord True, will show you to where you will be staying in the palace. Welcome to Hills, Last Daughter of Silber.”


“Educate her, Scott.” Stiles snarled, making Allison stiffen at his tone, “If she ever speaks about Omegas like she just did? I will have her thrown off Beacon so fast; her head will spin!”


Allison looked at John, but when he did not contradict his son’s words, she gave Stiles a single nod of her head to show that she grasps how serious the prince was, Scott, led Allison out of the throne room, speaking to her softly.


“She seemed nice,” John said, sarcasm lacing his words.


“Yes, Your Majesty, very nice,” Lady McCall agreed.


Stiles groaned. Knowing that the older woman was already planning her next intrigue, Stiles walked out of the throne room. Sir Layhe at his heels. Once they were alone, Stiles turned to the knight, “Keep an eye on our new guest, Isaac.”


“Yes, my prince.”



Chapter Text

Series Title: Stranger Than…

Pairings: Will Byers/Xander Harris, Nancy Wheeler/Jonathan Byers, Max Mayfield/Lucas Sinclair

Characters: Will Byers, Xander Harris, Rupert Giles, Buffy Summers, Willow Rosenburg, Angel, Faith Lehane

Crossover: Stranger Things, Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Tags/Warnings: Female Xander Harris, Always a Girl Xander Harris

Summary: How did Will Byers survive the Upside Down?

Spoilers: Season 1-3 Stranger Things. Season 1-3 Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

Resembles-Female Xander Harris-Jessica Alba





Chapter One: Betrayal Never Comes from Your Enemies…


Sunnydale High School Library,

Sunnydale, California, The Hellmouth,

October 27, 1998



And today, Xander Harris thought, was not going to be a good day.


Not that any day in Sunnydale, the home of the Hellmouth, was ever a good day. Things had been going well for herself and her friends then creatures unlike anything they had ever seen began to appear in Sunnydale. The town started to smell of rot and decay in places other than the graveyards and sewers.


Xander Harris was sure something was wrong when the town started to rot away beneath itself. None of them wanted to believe it when Angel brought stories of just how bad it was in the Underground, stories of monsters worse them the vampires and demons they usually dealt with, it wasn’t until she and Buffy, one of this generations vampire slayers saw it for themselves that they understood. Black vines had covered the tunnels and sewer systems for miles, it was cold, and there was a stinking slime, and black decay everywhere, white flakey things floated in the air like snow-that smelled like mold—it had given the tunnels an otherworldly feel, an unnatural one. Both girls had been horrified by this, the blonde slayer got that angry, determined look on her face and Xander knew she wouldn’t stop until this problem was slain.


Which brought Xander and the protectors of Sunnydale to their current predicament because the Hellmouth decided now was a good time to open, right in the middle of the high school library. The gaping hole was a red, pulsing, angry, abyss that black tentacles shot out of at random times trying to grab them. Rupert Giles, the slayer’s Watcher, had told them that the Hellmouth was a tear between their dimension and a hell dimension. Xander could believe that with the things she had seen happen in Sunnydale, but, this?


This was different.


Ever since Xander had been possessed by the Primal Goddess, last year. Xander's senses are heightened, everything that was primal in her was screaming that what was trying to crawl out of that hole? Wasn’t demonic but alien. Xander could feel the primal rage of the alien feelings that radiated from that gaping hole in the ground; she could feel the intelligence, the cunning evil, the hunger from it.


No, this wasn’t a demonic force. No, this was something far worse than any demon.


Xander swung her battle-ax at one of the humanoids, long-limbed, flesh-colored, flower headed creatures, cutting its head off, the body collapsed onto the floor. These monsters had been fast and strong, difficult to kill, but when they died, they stayed dead. Buffy and Angel were fighting a group of dog-like ones, as Oz in his werewolf form, guarded Willow, because Willow was the only one who could…


“Willow, now!” Giles shouted, shoving his sword through the head of the beast he was fighting. “Do the spell!” the red-haired witch nodded, starting to chant the spell, holding out a hand towards the abyss, the whole building shuttered at the force of the spell as the hole in the floor began to shrink.


Xander swung at another creature; she never saw the black tentacle that wrapped around her ankle, yanking her back, causing her to be jerked back hard. Xander dropped her axe in surprise as she hit the floor hard, it knocked the breath out of her. The tentacle is dragging her back towards the abyss quickly. Xander’s claws popped out, and she dug them deep into the wooden floor, leaving gouges in her wake, but it didn’t stop the tentacles that now covered both her legs up to the knees, from yanking harder and dragging her faster towards it the red-orange colored, pulsing hole. Xander's legs are being pulled over the edge into the hole, hands grabbed on to her wrists. Xander looked up to see Faith, holding on to her,


“How are you doing, X-girl?”


“Oh, you know being dragged to hell.” Xander quipped, relaxing a touch. Faith had been a surprise addition to the group and a big help. Faith, Xander had known hadn’t had an easy life, much like Xander. Buffy didn’t like the dark-haired Slayer nor did Willow, but Xander had taken a liking to the younger girl. Xander even had her first kiss with Faith, but in the end, they had decided they were better as friends, Xander began to see the other girl more as a younger sister.


“Sounds like a personal problem,” Faith said with a grin that had an edge of darkness to it.


“Quit kidding around and pull me out!” Xander exclaimed. Faith though glanced around the room, Xander saw the considering look come over Faith’s face like she was weighing her options. When Faith met Xander’s eyes again, the other girl had a hard look in them, and to Xander’s horror, she’s going to let me go, Xander knew. Xander shook her head, begging, “Don’t. Don’t do it, Faith!”


Faith cocked her head to the side, anger filled her eyes, as she hissed, “Why shouldn’t I? With you gone, my place in this group would be cemented.”


“We’re hunt-sisters!” Xander tried to reason with her, but Faith only gave her a dark smirk.


“You say that as if it means something,” Faith leaned closer, “I don’t want to be the sister of the town drunks. I want to be Buffy’s sister.”


Xander glared up at the younger girl, and said flatly, “You don’t want to be Buffy’s sister. You want to be her!


Faith’s face twisted up in an angry sneer, and with that, she let go of Xander’s wrists just as the tentacles around Xander’s legs. It gave a hard tug, yanking her back and down into the hole as the tentacles crawled higher up Xander’s body, Xander couldn’t even let out a scream before everything went dark for her.


Willow screamed the last part of the spell, the feeling of power welling up in her as she released it, the pulsing tear in the floor slowly began to close, sealing itself up until there was nothing more than burnt marks on the wooden floor. The last of the monsters fell to the floor dead; Willow looked around the room, Oz stood near her, now human, panting for breath his hands dripped with the blood from the creatures. The blonde slayer leaned heavily against the souled vampire, Giles sat on the floor in front of the book checkout counter, holding his side, blood seeping from between his fingers. Faith sat near where the portal thing had been, tears running down her face as she looked up at them,


“A tentacle wrapped around Xander’s legs and dragged her in…It was too strong! I couldn’t hold her!” Faith cried, burying her face in her hands, sobbing. It took them all a moment to understand what she meant when they did, looks of the same look of horror came to their faces. But they didn’t have time to dwell on it for long, because the ground beneath them began to rumble…




Mirkwood, (The woods outside Hawkins Laboratories,)

Hawkins, Indiana

May 30, 1986



She stumbled through the woods, clutching her bleeding side. She had to find him; she had to find him. He was the only one who could help her save 021 from those idiots that thought opening a trans-dimensional tear in the fabric of reality was the smart thing to do. The powers they had given 021 had not come easily; the boy was more than half insane by now, Dr. Benner had wanted to create a weapon that could fight whatever came out of the reality rips. He had thought 011 would be that weapon.


She had been surprised when 011 had willingly walked back into the lab to close the gate. Though she probably wouldn’t have if she had known Dr. Benner was still alive and has been watching her for the last year before she closed the portal to that place.


Dr. Owens, after figuring out what Dr. Benner had been doing with 011 and the tear between dimensions was worried about what the man was going to do. Seeing what Dr. Benner had been doing to 021, and Dr. Owens knowing who the kid had been? Hadn’t sat well with the man and Owens hadn’t been able to stand by and watch the things Dr. Benner put 021 through anymore but he hadn't been able to do much. Dr. Owens let Xander off of the leash she had been kept on these past couples of years. He is allowing her to seek help. Plausible deniability, on the good doctor’s part, she knew, Owens would cover his ass first.


Only Shadowmaster, only he would understand what they would be dealing with because saving 021 would be nice, but it wasn’t the main reason Dr. Owens let her go. Somewhere in Hawkins, more dimensional rips were happening. And things were going to start crawling out of them again.


It was trying to find a way back into this realm. It was angry at the ones that had stopped it before, and It wouldn’t rest until all of Its enemies were dead. She knew It; she could hear Its whispers just like she could feel the cold chill on the back of her neck in the summer’s heat.


She had to find him.




Chapter Two: Will Byer’s Wild Girl

Hawkins, Indiana

May 30, 1986

4:45 pm

The Byers House


Will sat at the kitchen table putting the finishing touches on his newest drawing, his mother, stepped into the room going over to the coffee pot, got a cup from the dish rack and poured herself some. She walked over and sat down at the table. His mother glanced over at Will and his artist notebook, he knew what his mother saw, on the paper was a drawing of a teenage girl with long, dark hair in messy wavy curls. A heart-shaped face, she had pale skin as if she hadn’t seen the sun in a while, eyes the color of dark Heresy’s chocolate. She was wearing a blue t-shirt with a leather-looking jacket over it. She smiled a cheeky, mischievous grin. Next to that was another picture of the same girl only this time, her hair was a light blondish color in places, with dark brown spots, and her roots were black. Her eyes were a glowing bright green, and the cheeky grin was replaced with a snarl filled with fangs dripping with blood, and black clawed fingertips held chunks of what looked to be…yes, that was a chunk of Demi-gorgon flesh in her hands.


“She’s…pretty, sweetie," Joyce said carefully. Will smiled at her and pushed the notebook over to his mother. Joyce carefully flipped the pages and saw they were all filled with pictures of this girl, in the woods behind their house. Others she is standing at the end of a hospital bed, a couple in Castle Byers and the more distressing ones of where she is fighting a Demi-gorgon in the Upside Down, in that other form Will drew her in.


Before Joyce could compliment her son on his talent, a pounding knock came at the front door. Will frowned, then was up like a shot heading towards it, Joyce was at his heels.


Will opened the door, and Joyce gasped, it was her…the girl from Will’s pictures.


“Help me, Shadowmaster,” the girl grated out between clenched teeth, the girl was clutching at her side, bleeding heavily, “please,” the last was whispered as her eyes rolled up, and she collapsed onto her knees. Will grabbed her before she could hit the ground, pulling her into his arms with a confused, but happy, “Wild Girl?” Then he looked at his mother, “Help me get her into the house, mom.”


Joyce nodded and shouted for Will’s brother, Jonathan. Who raced out of his bedroom with a baseball bat, he dropped the bat when he saw the girl in his brother’s arms? Once they got her to Will’s bedroom, Joyce could see this was a bullet would, and it was a flesh wound like a bullet had grazed her, much to Joyce’s relief she wouldn’t have to try and dig a bullet out of the girl’s injury. Joyce quickly cleaned and bandaged the dark-haired girl’s side.


Jonathan asked, “Is that who I think, it is?” For he had been the first one that Will had shown pictures of the girl too.


Will sighed, nodding to his brother. Jonathan had been the first one that Will had shown his drawings of the girl too. “Call the others; this is a story I only want to tell once.”

Joyce gave her son a long-worried look before she nodded going over to the phone, while Jonathan picked up the Super Com, walkie-talkie, off of Will’s desk.


And thirty minutes later, in Will’s bedroom sitting in the floor was his friends, Dustin Henderson, Lucas Sinclair, Max Mayfield, El, Nancy Wheeler, Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley and Will’s brother, Jonathan.


Billy Hargrove leaned on the wall next to Will’s bedroom window. Billy had barely survived the Battle at Star Court Mall. The wounds that the Mind Flayer had done to him when he had broken the possession to save El had been bad, but Billy was a survivor.


While Joyce Byers and Murray Bauman sat in the only chairs in the room, Jim Hopper stood in the doorway for Will’s bedroom; they had only got Hopper back four months ago from Russia in an escapade filled with Demi-gorgons, dimensional rifts, stupid ass scientists and David Bowie music.


Mike Wheeler is the only one not there; he had gone missing us after Christmas in 1985, they had looked everywhere, El had looked with her powers once she had gotten them back but couldn’t find him. Mike was just…gone.


They all watched, Will, seated on the bed next to the girl, as he carded his fingers through the passed-out girl’s dark hair. Will’s expression was soft and relaxed in a way many of them had never known he could be. Will’s time in the Upside Down and his possession by the Mind flayer had caused him a lot of trauma.


So, being relaxed, and around a girl that wasn’t Max or El wasn’t something that happened. Not that Will was relaxed around boys or adults or anyone, really.


Will looked up at them, warily, eyes glancing off of each of them, staying longer on Billy before he said, “Her name is Xander Harris, and she saved my life in the Upside Down…”





Upside Down,

Hawkins Indiana, 1983


Will knew he was dead the moment the monster grabbed him and threw him over its shoulder, and he watched as a hole as the light flickered wildly. A tear? A rip opened up in the wall of the shed. The scream was building up in the back of his throat. It. Just. Wouldn’t. Come. Out. Terror choking him, keeping him from making a sound. The creature growled lowly and stepped through the hole. Will sucked in a deep breath, gasping at the rotten smell that filled the air. The beast began to run, and finally, the scream broke from his throat. The creature roared back but didn't stop running, suddenly a blur slammed into the creature, knocking Will from its shoulder. He hit the ground hard, the air knocked out of him, leaving him gasping for breath. He looked up to see what had slammed into the creature and saw it…


It was a girl!


At least Will thought it was a girl; only, it wasn’t, she didn’t look like a human girl. Her hair was a light blondish color in places, with dark brown spots, and her roots were black. Reminding Will of the hyenas, he had seen on a PBS special on Africa once. Her eyes were glowing otherworldly, a bright green. She snarled with fangs dripping with blood; the creature had a bite mark on its shoulder. Will could see that a chunk of flesh was missing from the creatures’ side. Black clawed fingertips held a piece of flesh before the girl tossed it to the side carelessly. The creature flared open its head? Mouth? Showing the many rows of shark-like teeth before turning and running off. She sighed in relief; it seemed to Will as she rolled her shoulders before turning to look at him. She approached him slowly, blinking,


“Are you real” the wild girl whispered as if she couldn’t believe Will was there. Will could only nod in reply. She held out her hand, “Come with me if you want to live.”

Will gave her a wary look; she looked as dangerous and scary as the creature she had scared away. How did he know she wouldn’t eat him?


The girl blinked, “I’m not a cannibal!” Will realized he’d spoken his thought aloud. He gave her another look, and she sighed again and she…changed. Her hair slowly became a dark brown, as did her eyes, she no longer had fangs or claws though her mouth was still covered in dark drying blood, she reached up and wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her black leather jacket. She held out her hand again; Will still eyed her as if she was going to attack him…then there came an inhumane roar in the distance.


“Please,” she whispered. “Let me help you.”


Will reached up and took her hand. She pulled him to his feet, asking again in the whispered tone if he was hurt and could he run?


“I can run,” Will replied just as softly. The wild girl nodded and laced her fingers between Will’s tightly, and they run. Will wasn’t sure for how long they did so then she pulled them into a clearing, and a familiar wooden structure could be seen, with a sign that declared it: Castle Byers. Once she pulled him inside and settled him on the old mattress, she wrapped one of the blankets around him as well, she sat down beside him and shivered a little. Will scooted closer to her and wrapped a part of the blanket around her; she eyed him as if she couldn’t believe what he had done.


Will wondered how long it had been since she had been shown the kindness, she had shown him? She leaned towards him, putting an arm around him, pulling him closer to her. It was strange; he didn’t feel uncomfortable when she touched him not how he did when anyone other his mother, brother, or the members of the Party touched him.


It, it was nice.


“I’m Xander Harris,” she breathed into Will’s ear, causing him to shiver, as her warm breath hit his neck, “The creatures are blind, and can’t hear too well as long as you whisper. They have a good sense of smell though and are attracted to the scent of blood, so try not to bleed.”


Will nods slowly, “I’m Will, Will Byers, this,” he motioned around them, “is my secret place,” he says in a rush to get the words out, his teeth chattering from the cold. “Where are we?”


“Hawkins, Indiana, but not,” Xander said. “Everything is different, but the same.”


“Like the Vale of Shadows?” Will asked perking up, “It is a dimension that is a dark reflection or an echo of our world, a plane of phase—"


“I know what the Vale of Shadows is,” Xander cut in, “I’m a fifth level Paladin.”


Will blinked. He didn’t know any girl that played D&D. “Really?”


Xander nodded. “Do you know anywhere we can go?” Xander whispered when a roar sounded too close for comfort. “It’s not wise to stay in the same place for too long.”


Will nodded, “We can go to my house.”


“Rest, and we can go there in a few hours,” Xander whispered back. Will nodded and rested his head against his wild girl’s shoulder, glad he wasn’t alone in this strange place.

Chapter Text

Story Summary: Samuel ‘Newt’ Emerson, Alpha of the Glader Pack, is ready to claim his mate, one Stiles ‘Thomas’ Stilinski of the McCall Pack. Though past actions haunt both Newt and Thomas, perhaps they can break free and create a new future as they get to know each other as Samuel Emerson and Stiles Stilinski.

Word Count: 3018





“Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow,” the lithe, blonde teenager murmured, as not to wake the other occupants that were sleeping in the vehicle on which he was seated. The hood of the scratched, beat up, two-toned purple, 1973 Chevrolet Nova. That in its heyday had been a real beauty of a car. One day, he promised himself, it would be so again.

He wondered if Beckett had even realized he had left with the car, had left? That he had disappeared without Beckett, this time? Then again, with all the women that Beck had been drowning himself in, most likely not? Once the reality of their father’s death hit his older brother…well, Beck chose to drown his grief in women. Rather than booze and gambling like their father would have done.


“Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,” Newt, on the other hand, had gathered his Pack to him once more. It hadn’t been easy, for they had been scattered all over the country. And they in returned had heeded Newt’s call now all that was left was to find his mate. Luckily, Mari being a techno-mage, was an expert hacker. WCKED had been through about where they had found their past test subjects, so he had a fair idea where to look.


“And all of our yesterdays have lighted fools,” They had arrived on the outskirts of the small town of, Newt looked at the sign, it once said, Beacon Hills, but the hills had been replaced with the word ‘hell’ in blood-red spray paint, and the population number was crossed out, multiple times with new numbers. While that should have been alarming, it didn’t stop the need to go there…his mate was in that town.


“The way to dusty death, out, out, brief candle,” Newt whispered, glaring at the sign, so hard he didn’t hear the door to the car open, but he heard,


“Are you ready for this, Alpha? You only speak in Shakespeare when you’re nervous,” the Korean boy, with dark red and orange streaks in his black hair, said softly so not to wake the others in the car.


“Where is our pack-sister?” Was what the blonde asked, instead of answering the other boy.


“Sonya and the others are still two days out.”


“And our gift?”


“Safe.” The Korean boy sighed, “the worst thing that happens is that the McCall Pack refuses the alliance and if that happens…we go with Plan B.”


Yes, because kidnapping is a tried and true method of getting a mate, the blonde thought rolling his eyes at Minho. “Send our Emissary to speak with Emissary Alan Deaton. We are going to do this right.”


Newt looked back at the ‘Welcome to Beacon Hills’ sign. “It is a tale, told by an idiot,” he slid off the hood of the car, and walked over to the edge of the cliff, the lights from the town sparkled and shone like ground-bound stars, “full of sound and fury,” Samuel wondered, if his mate ever thought of him? Did he ever think about their time together, did his mate miss him? Well, Newt would find out soon enough “…Signifying nothing.”






The scent of the cleaner used in the examination room of the animal clinic couldn’t cover up the smell of the many animals that had been in this place even to Stiles’ typical human nose; he hated to think about what it smelled like to a were-wolf one. Though one would deny that after that Nogitsune had possessed him that Stiles was still human. He didn’t even know anymore and just said, when Liam asked what he was, that he was, ‘Better?’


Stiles leaned on the wall nearest the door, with his arms crossed over his chest. Stiles wondered why Deaton had demanded that he be here for this meeting? Scott had slowly been trying to push him out of any dealings with the supernatural since the assassins tried to kill half of the citizens of Beacon Hills because of a supernatural hit list. Scott was worried that because Stiles was human that he couldn’t take care of himself, and Stiles had let Scott believe this, mostly because it had amused Stiles in the beginning.


Scott’s attitude towards him wasn’t and hadn’t been amusing for a long time now. It was, Stiles could admit, his own fault. He should have shown Scott and the pack what he could do a long time ago. It’s just that using those skills and powers brought up memories of a time best forgotten. It was too painful for Stiles to deal with, the memories of…him.


Those memories…hurt.


Stiles glanced around the room. Scott was standing next to Allison, flirting with her. Allison looked unhappy about this, and with good reason because Scott was dating Malia at the moment. Stiles knew it wouldn’t last, Scott would find some excuse to break the were-coyotes’ heart just so Scott could go back to dating Allison for a few weeks or until Allison got bored and found someone else, she wanted to date more than Scott. It had become a vicious cycle between the two; it’s what happened when Scott had dated Kira.

Stiles’ stabbing Allison in the stomach while possessed by the Nogitsune and she barely surviving it had damaged his bond to Scott. Stiles was having a hard time seeing him as an Alpha that should be followed. Scott had betrayed Stiles one too many times for Stiles to trust him, and Scott blamed Stiles for everything that the Nogitsune had done. Allison went to France with her father for six months to recover. She promptly dumped Isaac, (who had gone to France with her and was still in there with Allison’s French hunter relatives, dating one of her cousins), when she came back to Beacon Hill. She made a play for Scott that had nothing to do with why the Kitsune and True Alpha broke up.


Liam was sitting on the counter texting on his phone, most likely to Theo Raeken. It would surprise Stiles if the boy were actually texting his girlfriend, Hayden. His relationship with her was almost as on and off again as Scott’s was with Allison. Scott was not the person Liam should be emulating concerning relationships. The blonde beta was here because he was Scott’s only beta bitten by him. Stiles wasn’t sure why Scott had allowed Theo to stay in Beacon Hills or why Liam was the Chimera’s keeper.


Erica and Boyd still gravitated to Derek even though Derek wasn’t an Alpha anymore, the fact that Scott took great joy in reminding Derek about. Derek had only lost his Alpha-hood, saving his sister, Cora. Stiles had a theory that he hadn’t lost it so much as he used a lot of it to heal Cora. After the whole thing that happened in Mexico, Derek could now turn into a full wolf, something only his mother could do in their family. Stiles was sure Derek’s Alpha-hood would return to him in time. Speaking of the wolf, Derek was sitting on the floor next to Stiles, glaring at it. Trying to ignore Lydia, who was poking him in the shoulder trying to get his opinion of a dress she was trying to show him on her phone. The banshee had been trying to get the Hale wolf into her bed for months now, and Derek had been resisting, but Stiles could see Derek’s resolve weakening day by day unable to stand up to Lydia’s persistent. Lydia was going to bag Hale in the next few weeks, Stiles was sure of it.


“As you know,” Deaton said, walking into the exam room, getting their attention. He was carrying a small wooden box, he set it down on the examination table, “a new pack as moved to Beacon Hills.”


“Should we be worried? We haven’t had much luck when new people move to Beacon Hills.” Lydia asked, softly, with a concerned expression on her face. New people to Beacon Hills meant more bodies for Lydia to find. Deaton didn’t answer her but looked at Scott.


Scott nodded, “I know. And as long as they don’t cause any trouble. I don’t care that they are here.” Derek snorted at this but said nothing. Stiles agreed with what Derek hadn’t said, that as an alpha Scott should care that an unknown pack had moved into his territory.


“Alpha Emerson’s Emissary approached me,” Deaton said, “they wish to negotiate an alliance with the McCall Pack,”


“We could use some allies,” Liam said, taking his gaze from his phone, “then maybe we could get some help when things like the Deadpool or the Dread Doctors happen?”


“I’m open to allies,” Scott agreed.


“Alpha Emerson wishes an alliance through marriage,” Deaton dropped that bomb with a bland look, sighing at the incomprehension he was met with, “he wants one of you to marry him.”


An alliance through marriage or a mating bond was one of the oldest and securest ways of gaining an ally that wouldn’t stab you in the back because they were basically family. That was the theory anyway, ask any of the old European Royalty if it actually worked or not?


“And which of these idiots does Alpha Emerson want to marry?” Derek asked, amused, but concern shown in his eyes.


“Mieczyslaw Thomas Stilinski,” Deaton said, and motioned to the box on the table, “it’s a gift from the Alpha.” Stiles pushed away from the wall and came closer to the table looking at the box; the top was decorated with an intricate depiction of a maze, he when he looked more closely, it had different sections that could be moved— Oh, I know this…


“When did you learn to pronounce my name?” Stiles muttered to Deaton as he picked up the box and turned in over in his hands, moving, sliding the different sections around.


Deaton ignored the question, “It’s a—” but before he could finish, Stiles set the box on the table, and it fell open, revealing what was inside, “puzzle box,” Deaton said, lamely.


Stiles smirked, this alpha knew Stiles was smart and the opening of this box was a test, a trial, “It was a lovely thought,” Stiles murmured, looking down at what was revealed, it was a pendant made from a shotgun casing, on a braided black leather cord. Stiles went pale at the sight of it much to the concern of his pack members.


“The Emissary said, that you would know what it means,” Deaton told Stiles.


“Hey, that looks like—” Scott started to say,


“Slim it, Scott!” Stiles snarled, harshly at him, causing Scott to go silent. Scott knew better than to continue when Stiles used that tone of voice, even more so when he slipped into that weird slang Stiles had picked up when he had been missing for those eight months during their freshman year of high school. Scott had been so worried about if and when Stiles would be found that he failed that year. It was just as well because when Stiles was recovered, he hadn’t been himself for a long time, and they both ended up in summer school in order make their sophomore year. Stiles reached out with a shaking hand and picked it up and carefully opening the pendant; he pulled out a single piece of rolled-up paper, he teared up at the sight of familiar handwriting,


I told you once that I would follow you anywhere…and I have. I’m coming for you, Tommy.




Stiles looked up to see that Allison had stepped towards him, a worried look on her lovely face, she shouldn’t be concerned about him. Not after everything he had put her through. Stiles shook his head, his fingers tangling in the black leather cord. It couldn’t be…him. He had been told three years ago after he and his Gladers had been recused from the WCKED Corporation that they could not have contact with each other for their safety and mental health. It was a crock of shit, but government-mandated, so they’d had no choice at the time. But if it was…him?


Stiles looked at Deaton, and said, softly, “Please inform the Emissary that the McCall Pack will agree to meet in two weeks at a place of our choice to negotiate the terms of mine… and Alpha Emerson’s upcoming nuptials.”


Allison, Derek, and Liam exclaimed, “WHAT,” in unison. Lydia had a contemplative look as if she understood more than the others. She knew Stiles never did anything without reason. Stiles’ goals never made sense to the Pack, until Stiles explained why, where, and the how’s. Though from the look on Stiles' face? He didn’t seem to be in an explaining mood this time.


“I could swear that you spoke English, but I didn’t understand a word you just said,” Scott said, looking confused. Stiles rolled his eyes and untangled the black cord of the pennant from his fingers before slipping it over his head, flinching, slightly, when the pendant hit his chest. “I’m the Alpha, pretty sure I’m supposed to make choices like that if we met other Packs and their Alphas.”


Stiles raised an eyebrow, “Are you the one that Alpha Emerson wants to marry?” Stiles didn’t wait for Scott to answer, “No, you are not. So, you don’t get to decide if we met this Pack or not, I do. Since I’m the one the Alpha wants to marry.”


“Why two weeks?” Allison asked.


“Summer break starts then,” Stiles told her, “I figure we can use the summer to deal with the chaos that the Emerson pack will no doubt bring to Beacon Hills before we start our senior year of high school.”



Chapter Text

Chapter One:

April 23, 1966

Carrie pushed a lank, greasy lock of her blonde hair behind her ear as she stared out of the window of the bus. It had been two days since… that night. She should have known better, never should have trusted Sue. Never should have believed in the kindness she shown, The trick! The dirty, nasty trick they played on me! It was all a lie in the end, no matter how kindly it may have been meant. Carrie never blamed Sue for the actions of Christine, Billy, or Tommy. Sue had only wanted something better for Carrie, it hadn’t been Sue’s fault that the people around her were assholes.

Sue had tried to be a better person. And Carrie hoped for Sue’s child’s sake that the other girl did become a better person.

Carrie closed her eyes, blocking out the light that came from the shinning headlights of the cars that past the bus on their way to wherever they were heading in the night. Carrie thought that the second bus she had boarded might have been heading somewhere in the Midwest. She had been in such a hurry to et out of Chamblain, Maine, that Carrie hadn’t cared where she was headed so long as it was far from where she had been.

Carrie wondered what it meant that she wasn't sorry for her actions…that night. She had enjoyed what she had done, least that’s how it felt from what she could remember, which wasn’t much about… that night. What she did to Christine, to Billy, to Tommy? To all of the other students at the Prom that had laughed, always laughed at her? Had they deserved to die? Had she really meant to kill them? Or had she simply lost control of these new powers? That she was just learning to use and didn’t understand?

Carrie took a deep breath. Her throat burned, choking on a sob that wanted to escape. If she hadn't sensed the new life growing in Sue. Would she have killed the only person that she might have called a friend in her rage? She didn't want to think about what the answer to that would be…because Carrie wasn't a good person. Carrie didn't think she was evil like Momma said she was, but she wasn’t good. She had enjoyed their pain, their suffering, enjoyed punishing them…she was a wrathful goddess. Carrie pushed that thought away. It was sacrilege, she was sure to think of oneself as godlike. God was kind, God was love…not whatever she had been…that night.

She could feel the cold pig’s blood covering her hair and face. She looked up to see Christine laughing down at her, she glanced over at Tommy to see him back away horrified of the sight of her. A trick! A dirty, nasty trick! That’s all it had been to them!
She could hear Billy’s donkey braying laughter and then the laughter of the rest of them… the sheer malice rolling through the room from her…from her tormenters!

That’s all they were! All they had ever been! And why? Why did they hate her? What had she ever done to them? Nothing! She hadn’t asked to be born poor or to a religious nutcase mother! She wasn’t any different from them. She wanted the same things they did! To be liked by her peers, to have friends…to love and be loved back.

The laughter got louder.

She couldn’t stand it! She wouldn’t stand for it! Not anymore! She looked towards the open auditorium door. Smirking when they swung shut and locked by themselves. She glanced at the other entries on the opposite side of the building; they did the same. She looked to one of the students near the stage, she snapped his neck with a thought, his body hit the ground as she walked down the stairs off the stage. The laughter died quickly when students realized what had happened. It was soon replaced by screaming.

Carrie couldn’t really remember much after that. Carrie knew she killed Christine, Billy, and Tommy and that she had been cruel. As cruel as they had been. She also knew that there had been some damage done to the town of Chamberlain in the wake of her rage.

She didn’t care.

No one had been kind to Carrie in that town but for Sue. Carrie was thankful for that. Even if it had only been to soothe Sue's guilt for her cruelty. Carrie shifted in the uncomfortable seat on the Greyhound bus. Hissing softly as her left shoulder pressed against it. It was a glaring reminder…

Once she had gotten home from…what she had done. She had been confronted by her mother. She had told her mother what had happened, not able to control the sobs that shook her body. She asked her mother to forgive her. She hadn’t meant to do it!

Her mother had only sighed and shook her head, wisps of her greying coppery hair slipping from the bun she always wore it in. “It’s not your fault, child. Not your sins, I know this, you were an innocent until this night. It’s your father to blame. And that devil’s brew he shot into my veins night after night until you were born.”

“My love swore to me that you would be like an angel from on high. And not the wrathful devil’s child you are…for how could any creature conceived in such pleasurable depravity be pure?” Margaret hissed coldly, though the look on her face was kind. She held out a hand to Carrie, and all Carrie wanted was the comfort of her mother’s arms around her.

Something Carrie hadn’t known since she was a very young child. Carrie went to her mother and pressed her face to her mother’s neck breathing in the perfumed scent of rosewater she bathes in. Lulled by her mother’s embrace, Carrie didn’t know what the sharp pain in her left shoulder was until it happened again, and again. Carrie jerked away from her to see a knife in her hand. Carrie’s blood covering the blade.

“Why, Momma?” Carrie begged. Why did her mother want to hurt her? Hadn’t she been a good daughter? Hadn’t she loved this woman even when she had been cruel to her? “Why don’t you love me?”

“How can anyone love an abomination?” Margret asked in return, confused.

Carrie only screamed. That word. That word. Always that word falling from her mother’s lips. Margret went flying back, slamming into the prayer closet that Carrie was so offend locked in. Margret hit her head on the wall and dropped to the floor and didn’t move. Carrie slammed the door to the closet, closed locked it with her power.

Carrie stripped out of her clothes and took a bath, scrubbing her skin raw. She roughly washed the blood from her hair. Carrie got redressed in underwear, and the only pair of jeans she owned. Carrie dressed the wounds on her shoulder the best she could. Margret hadn't stabbed the blade in as deeply as she could have.

Maybe it meant her mother cared?

Carrie couldn’t put on a bra; the straps would make irate the knife wounds on her left shoulder. She put on a t-shirt and covered that with a button-up yellow blouse. It would have to do, socks and shoes came next. Carrie pulled her hair back with a rubber band without brushing it. She'd do it later when she was away from here. Carrie packed a small bag of her hairbrush, the one small stuff animal she owned, and the few clothes she had and started to walk out of the house.

“You devil’s child!” came along with banging from within the closet. “Abomination to the Lord! That’s all you are! I should have killed you when you were born! Strangled you before you took your first breath! Creature of Sin!”

Carrie took a deep breath and walked past the closet and out of the house. She walked past the yard and stood on the street, she turned and looked back at home. Carrie placed her bag on the ground, then stood straight, holding out a hand to the house. Carrie let out a scream, as she imagined pulling the house down, down around her mother, down, down, breaking, as the walls of something more of a hovel than a home. The roof came crashing, crashing down, down, down.

Carrie leaned down to pick up her bag.


Carrie whipped around her hand out, causing Sue to go sliding back until she slammed into a nearby tree. Sue was still dressed in her prom dress. Carrie wondered for a moment what kind of girl, dressed for prom but got her boyfriend to take another girl to it? She wondered what was going through the other girl’s mind the whole time Carrie had been lost to her rage.

Carrie realized something, something, so perspective-changing… She didn’t care. She didn’t care what this girl thought, what her feeling was, about this girl’s guilt! No! She didn’t care. All Carrie wanted? Was for Sue to suffer like she did. Sue clutched and scratched at her neck, face turning red, as an unseen force blocked the air from her lungs by the pressure closing in on her throat. All Carrie really wanted was for this girl to die! Just like all the others who hurt her, laughed at her, and had been cruel to her.

“No…Carrie,” Sue’s voice was choked as she spoke, “I’m your friend!”
But was she, though? Had she ever been? Carrie didn’t think so. Carrie tightens her mental grip on the girl causing Sue to choke more harshly, more panicked.

There was a beat, a pulse, something new. Life. Was growing in this girl. An innocent. Something pure. Something, Carrie, for all of her rage, could not bring herself to destroy. This good thing, this chance at a new life. Carrie released her mental grip on Sue. The girl dropped to her knees, panting for breath.

Carrie picked up her bag again, slung the strap over her shoulder. Rubbed at the itch at her nose, frowning when her hand came away bloody. She walked past Sue, pausing, “I’m leaving. Don’t try to stop me or find me. If you do? I’ll kill you…and your unborn child.”Carrie continued walking down the street, not stopping or looking back when Sue called her name.

“Hey, Hey, Miss? Are you alright?” Carrie jerked in her seat. “Miss? Your bleeding!”
Carrie looked over next to her at the person speaking to her. It was a young man, a handful of years older than herself. He had short, neat-kept blonde hair, eyes that reminded Carrie if pictures she had to see of the sea during a storm. They had a kind expression in them. His cheeks were covered in stubble, his clothes were clean but wrinkled from travel.

Carrie saw him shake the other man sitting next to him, "Wake up, Sam!" The other man came awake, shooting the blond man an irritated look. He had messy dark hair that had a slight wave to it. His eyes were honey-colored and seemed to glow from the passing lights from the bus windows. He was clean-shaven, but his clothes like the blond man's were wrinkled also. “She’s bleeding, Sam! Do something!”

Sam’s eyes cut to Carrie with a frown, he reached under his seat and pulled out a black medical bag that Carrie had seen the school nurse carry sometimes. Carrie looked down at her blouse and saw some blood and seeped through her bandage and t-shirt to stain it.

“Trade places with me, Reece," Sam said. The blond man, no, Reece, moved, and Sam took his place. Sam reached for the buttons of her blouse, and Carrie reared back, shocked at his boldness. “Forgive me, miss. But I have to see that damage,” Sam said gently. Carrie sighed. Leaning up, to undo the buttons, she heard twin gasps. "That's not good," Sam muttered.

Carrie glanced over her shoulder at the seat behind her to see that it was covered in blood. Carrie could feel herself growing dizzy. She was barely aware of Reece yelling something up to the bus driver, as Sam stripped off her blouse and cut away part of her t-shirt with some scissors from his bag before he quickly began cleaning her wounds. She heard Reece barking at the other passengers when they started to stare. Then Carrie saw his face in the reflection of the window next to Sam's,

“Don’t worry, Sammy-boy here will get you right as rain. We’ll take care of you.” Reece told her. Carrie wanted to protest. She didn’t need anyone to take care of her. She could do it herself now.

Sam caught her eye in the reflection, “He’s right. You’re not alone anymore, Carrie.”
There was something strange about that, Carrie hadn't told the men her name, had she? About what he said, how Sam had said it. “We’ll protect you now.”

Then Carrie realized what it was…the whole time Sam had been speaking to her as she stared in the window at Sam’s reflection?

Sam’s mouth hadn’t moved.

Not once.

Darkness enclosed on Carrie’s vision, and she knew nothing more.



April 24, 1966

Carrie woke slowly, laying in a bed that she knew wasn’t the one she left in her hometown, to the sound of soft male voices. That should have frightened her. Her mother had always told her that men were not to be trusted. She kept her eyes closed and listened to the two speak, they seemed to be disagreeing about…

“…it’s her, Reece. She’s the one that destroyed that town in Maine. I saw it in her mind.” Carrie slit her eyes open to see Sam rub a hand over his face, he sat at a table with Reece sitting across from him. “She’s dangerous. She has little to no control over her powers!”

Reece sighed, running a finger around the rim of a glass of water sitting on the table in front of him. “So what do you want to do, Sam? We can’t leave her. If the Shop or one of the other Agencies were to find her…” Reece trailed off, “They would use her as a weapon or worse, breeding stock.”

“We could,” Sam stopped and looked over at Carrie, he turned back to Reece and looked at him. Reece looked over at Carrie, frowning. “It’s not nice to eavesdrop on someone's conversation,” Reece said.

“It’s not okay to talk about someone behind there back, eighter,” Carrie said, moving to sit up, Sam hurried over to help her do so. She gave him a wary look but allowed him to help her.

“No, it’s not.” Sam agreed, after helping the blonde girl. He stood by the bed, “but you pose us something of a problem, Carrie.”

Carrie frowned, “How do you know my name? I never told it to you.”

“You didn’t have to, just like you never have to tell me what happened that night,” Sam said softly. “I see things about people when I touch them. I know their names, where they 444were born…random things mostly, but at other times…I can see big events in their lives. Things that change them and make them who they are or will be.”

Carrie wasn’t sure she liked the idea of someone knowing so much about her. “Then you know what I’ve done? What I did to them.”

Sam nodded, “You were hurting and have been hurt for a long time. What they did was cruel, and you lashed out in anger. You lost control. It happens to all of us. It’s just worse for those with…abilities like ours.”

“What I did,” Carrie started. But was cut off by Reece, who said,“It doesn’t matter. It happened. The best thing is to move on with your life and do better.”

“That seems an uncaring thing to do.” Carrie said, “I’m alive, and they…are not.”

“No,” Reece said, picking up a glass that was half full of water. Carrie watched in awe as the water slowly began to turn into steam and float into the air. The steam circled around, making different shapes until it solidifies into a glistening crystal in the shape snowflake, one would cut out of construction paper in elementary school. “ and there is nothing you can do to change that. What you can do learn control. So what happened before won’t happen again, Carrie.” The snowflake slowly melted back into water, and floated towards and into the glass, “Because if you don’t learn? It will happen again.”

Carrie thought about what he said. She knew Reece was right. Carrie didn’t want a repeat of Prom to happen. The very idea of being that out of control again. That she couldn’t even remember most of the events that happened that night, frightened her.





Chapter One: This Indecision Is Bugging Me
November 3 to December 12, 1983.



Steve didn’t like the inky mirrored blackness that surrounded him. He pushed at it until it fell away…the sudden brightness of the light bulb that swayed overhead blinded him for a few moments. When he could see, he found himself in an old worn wooden shed, that had a lawnmower in the corner, some old rusted tools, and nails on a workbench that hadn’t looked if the layers of dust were anything to go by like it hadn’t been used in years.

The low odd growling, by the door, was followed by a primal and ancient echoing roar. That caused a shiver of fear to run down Steve’s neck. This is how something that lived in the era of the dinosaurs would have sounded. Something, big, powerful.

There was a young boy, about eleven or twelve, standing in front of Steve. The boy was pale, his brown eyes wide, his dark hair matted to his temples and neck with sweat. He was also shaking so hard that the rifle he held in his slightly bloody hands, it rattled as he tried to load it.

The swaying light bulb, which was the shed’s only source of light, began to flicker rapidly. Steve heard the kid gas, as long greyish limbs pushed its way through the unopened wooden door of the shed. It roared again, its mouth opening in a flower shape revealing rows, and rows of sharp teeth similar to that of a shark.

“Shoot it,” Steve whispered, knowing that if the kid didn’t do something? This would not end well, “Shoot it!”

The light above them flared brightly—

Steve Harrington woke with a scream! He flailed wildly around until his hand hit his lamp on his nightstand. He grabbed on to it and turned it on. Light flooded Steve’s bedroom. His blankets were wrapped around his legs, he panted for breath eyes glancing to the dark corners of his room, as the sweat on the back of his neck cooled causing him to shudder with a sudden chill.

“Just a dream,” Steve muttered to himself, rubbing at his nose when it itched. He frowned when he pulled his hand back to see it covered in blood. Steve reached for a tissue out of the box on his nightstand. It had been years since he had gotten night nose bleeds. Steve had gotten a lot of them as a child. He had thought he had grown out of them. Steve wiped his nose and threw the tissue away in the small trash can by the bed. Steve straightened his blankets, took a deep breath when he found he could breathe okay, he laid back down.

Steve pulled the covers close to his chin before reaching up to turn out the light, “Just a dream,” he repeated again to himself, like a mantra.

It did no good to dwell on his dreams. So, Steve didn’t give it another thought.

Not until three days later, when he saw the first missing poster for Will Byers, on the notice board at school.

Steve recognized the boy, as the same one from his dream.


Steve wasn’t stupid. He might not be that brightness crayon in the box? But Steve wasn’t an idiot! He knew when a girl was losing interest in him. It happened more than Steve would like to admit. He knew Nancy had a thing for Jonathan Byers! Of all people?

Jonathan Byers was creepy. Steve had been justified in breaking the kid's camera. Byers had been taking pictures of Nancy half-naked, why didn't Nancy think that was a problem? Steve had seen how she had looked at him after he had broken the guy's camera. Like it had been Steve that had done something wrong.

Steve just didn’t get it.


Okay. So maybe, just maybe, Steve fucked up.

Steve shouldn’t have called Jonathan a queer, he knew that. He knew how Byers’ dad, Lonnie was, everyone in Hawkins knew how that man was, Joyce finally kicking that asshole to the curb had been town gossip for weeks.

Steve had known that calling Jonathan and Will, queer was something their dad did. That it was something that would hurt, something that would dig into a wound and bleed. That’s not what made Jonathan snapped and beat the shit out of him. Accusing, Jonathan of killing his brother had been a big part of it. But no, it was for what Tommy had written on the theater marquee was what done it. Steve never should have told Tommy about what he saw that night; he went to Nancy's. Peeping through her window the way Steve did. Made him no better than what he accused Byers’ of when he took those pictures.

But he hadn't thought Jonathan would get arrested for the fight. It was just a stupid fight between teenagers. He didn't want Byers to get into any real trouble because of it.
Steve didn’t want the cops to call his parents about this…he couldn’t deal with the disappointed look his father would give him or the worried ones his mother would.
Steve knew he would have to make things right between himself and Jonathan Byers. Maybe buy the guy a new camera or something? But first, he had something else to do.

He had to find something cold for his face.


Steve didn’t know what the fuck Tommy’s problem was, maybe Carol wasn’t blowing him enough or something? Steve didn’t know and really didn’t care. He had known Tommy hadn’t liked Nancy, and the whole thing with the theater marque was so… Uggh, a Tommy thing to do. And yes, Steve was mad at Nancy and Byers… But Nancy wasn’t a slut.

They hadn’t even gone all the way the night of the Barb—the night of the party. Though they had done a few things together that had been fun and pleasurable. He and Nancy hadn’t had full-on sex.

Steve hadn’t done that with any of the girls he had ever dated. Tommy and Carol knew that! The only ones he’d ever come close to having sex with had been with them! Then Tommy got all weird about the things they had done with each other. Tommy ranted that-

I'm not a faggot, Steve! This thing we have? It stops now! No one can know! Get a girlfriend!

And Tommy wanted Steve to get a full-on girlfriend. Steve dating Nancy was, in fact, Tommy’s idea! Tommy had no right to pull this shitty attitude on him, and Carol wasn’t acting much better—

Come on, Steve, you know Tommy. He’ll get over this and want us both in his bed again. We just gotta wait until he pulls that stick out of his ass so you can replace it with your dick. Maybe once you two have full-on butt sex, Tommy will get over his gay panic.

Carol always did follow Tommy’s lead, in the end, no matter what she might have thought or said.

Steve couldn’t worry about them right now. No, he had to go and clean up Tommy’s mess, like he always does. And Steve wasn’t surprised when the owner of the theater thought he was the one who messed up the marque.

Steve only sighed and climbed up the ladder.



Steve stood in what he called the void, darkness that reflected himself. He never liked seeing that or the strange things he saw here… this was not the first time Steve had been here, nor feared would it be the last. He looked around, the darkness waved and turned in on its self, and he could see, the illusion of light. Twinkling in reds, greens, blues, yellows, and oranges on a wall that had the alphabet written on the wall under them in black letters. There were more lights on the ceiling and other walls of the room they illuminated the scene before him…

Long ash blonde hair spread out on a floor covered in cheap, thin, faded mustard yellow-brown carpeting, her brown eyes were wide, blank and unseeing. Blooding pooling around her, from the bloody, raw wound that had been torn open in her stomach, her inner nards trailing from it. A teenage boy with dirty blond, blood-matted hair lay near her, his eyes had a similar expression as the girl. The boy’s head bent at an odd angle, as a creature hovered over him.

The creature has pale human colored skin with an odd greenish-grey spot to it. It had humanoid limbs, but the hands that were covered in the boy’s blood and feet had long sharp claws on them, that we're pulling out the boy intestines from a hole in the boy's chest. The creature paused in its movements and turned to look where Steve was standing in the void, it’s face opened up looking like a flower, but with rows and rows of teeth like a shark, it roared a long and loud in victory.

The scene changed to a classroom, the same creature stood over the bodies of three children, a black boy laying by the door was holding a slingshot in his hand had his throat ripped out. A chubby boy, wearing a cheap baseball cap in red and blue colors, had his stomach ripped open, mouth open in a toothless expression of shock.

A boy with messy dark hair, lay bleeding from his side, his hands reaching out as he screamed, “El!” Steve could see a girl in a dirty pink dress, reaching back for the boy, as she was dragging through a red, pulsing opening in the wall by the same creature that had killed the teenagers in the other vision. Steve wasn’t sure how he knew it was the same one, but he was sure it is, he could hear her heart-breaking screams of,

“Mike! Mike!”

And the boy’s answering ones of, “EL!”


Steve Harrington slammed back into his kitchen cabinet, crying out from the throbbing pain from where his shoulder hit it. That thing! That thing killed Nancy! And Byers! Those children!

Steve knew that, but he also knew it hadn’t happened yet. Soon, in a few minutes or hours at most, it would. That’s how his powers worked when it came to that…sometimes. Most of the time he only got useless things, lyrics from songs that hadn’t been written yet, plots for books, scenes from movies or T.V. shows that hadn’t been made, however, it was frustrating because it made the new things coming out things he wasn’t interested in or already knew about. Up and coming tech and ideas, the information had made his father quite a bit of money.

Steve wiped the trickle of blood that ran down out from his left nostril with the back of his right hand, and over the black sweatband he wore. He’d rather have visions of the past, but those only happened when he touched someone or something. Those were rarer that the visions of the future. They are easier to deal with. The past has already happened, and there was nothing he could do to change it. It was why Steve preferred them to the ones of the future. Steve didn’t have to worry about whether he should try and stop or change something.

The present was more difficult for Steve to navigate because it was hard for him to stay in the now with the past and future pressing on his mind the way it did.

Steve looked at the clock on the kitchen wall, it was late close to ten o’clock. Steve nodded to himself, he might not like Jonathan Byers and might not believe that Nancy was only friends with the guy, but no one should die like that, not if Steve could prevent it from happening. Steve grabbed the keys to his car and ran through his house out the front door to his car.


It had taken a few days and a lot of scary government paperwork that Steve had to sign before he learned the whole story. Even then, Steve was sure he hadn’t been told everything.


Steve watched as the little girl in the dirty pink dress sat by the small fire in the woods. She stabbed the body of a squirrel on a long stick and then held the stick over the fire, cooking the meat.

This was the girl! Eleven! Steve was sure. Though he had never met her. Steve had been told of her by Nancy. The girl turned, and her eyes widened. She could see him! She could…then he remembered, she was like him. Slowly, so he wouldn’t startle her, he slipped off the black sweatband on his right wrist and held it out to her.

She put down the squirrel with the stick and eased close enough to see his wrist, to see the tattoo on it.

“Brother?” she asked softly, hopefully.

Steve thought about that, “Yes, I guess I am in away.”

“Help?” She whispered.

Steve nodded. “Yes, I will. I’ll…” but how could he help her? Who could he ask to help this girl who wouldn’t use her for their own gain, “I’ll tell Hopper?”

Eleven frowned, “Mike?”

Steve shook his head. He knew the two kids knew each other, but the people from the Hawkins Lab were still hanging around. It would be too dangerous to tell the boy anything. “Hopper.”

Eleven didn't look happy about that but asked, "He's a good man? Yes?"

Steve nodded, “Yes,” and that was true. Everything Steve knew about the Chief of Police pointed to a good but gruff man. “Have you seen the wooden boxes in the woods?”

Eleven nodded.

“Hunters keep supplies and things they need if they get caught out here lately. Some keep them full all year round. Sometimes they have food in them. They should keep you until I can talk to Hopper. Be strong and careful, little sister.” Steve told her.



Steve blinked and found himself sitting at a desk in Miss Click’s classroom. The girl with honey blonde hair sitting next to Steve was staring at him.


“Your nose is bleeding.” The girl said flatly.

Steve brought a hand up to his face and was unsurprised when it came way covered in blood. His visions were becoming a problem. He couldn’t keep having this many of them so close together. Someone was going to notice. Steve raised his hand and asked the teacher if he could go to the restroom. Miss. Click gave him a worried look and told him he could. After he cleaned himself up, but before returning to class, he stopped at the payphone at the end of the hall. He took the phone off the hook and feed it some quarters, then dialed a number. He got an answer,

“Hawkins Police Station, how can I help you,” a female voice asked.

“Can I speak to Chief Hopper, please. It concerns one of his cases.”

“Please hold.”

Steve was put on hold for a few minutes, he looked nervously around the hallway. Before Jim Hopper’s voice came over the line.

“Chief Hopper here,”

“The missing princess has found a home in Mirkwood. She is cold and hungry, but well. You should find her before the Orcs do.” Steve said, then hung up the phone. He hoped that Hopper got the reference to the woods near the Labs and would find Eleven before they did.



Steve liked that he was welcomed in the Wheeler house. At least by Nancy and her mom. Nancy's father didn’t seem to care and Mike? That brat was hostile. But Steve was sure that was more about the loss of Eleven that about him.

Steve watched the flickering lights of the Christmas tree warily. He could hear Nancy talking to Jonathan in the hallway and saw Nancy give Jonathan his Christmas present. Steve hoped that Jonathan liked it. Steve didn’t know much about cameras, but the guy at the store told Steve it was the best money could buy that was on the market right now.

The lights on the tree flickered, spun, danced before his eyes…

“This is bullshit!” Nancy said, swaying drunkenly, blowing her short hair out of her face. Steve barely took in the sounds and music of the party going on behind him. Nancy had been upset about something for weeks now but wouldn’t talk to him about it. But she could apparently speak to Jonathan Byers. Steve had tried not to be jealous, but it was hard when he saw how Nancy looked at the guy…like he was everything she ever wanted.

“You want to party? We’re partying. Like we’re normal. Pretending like we’re in love.”

Pretending? Steve thought. I’m not, I’ve never pretended to love you. I do love you. I’ve said it! But you…“You don’t love me?” Steve heard his own voice pathetically say with a whine in it.

“You’re bullshit!” Nancy glared, “It’s all bullshit!”


Nancy was sitting next to him on the couch. She gave him a concerned glance. Steve blinked, "What?"

“Your bleeding, Steve,” Nancy said softly.

Steve reached up and wiped his nose with the back of his hand, Nancy got up and got him a tissue. He thanked her and cleaned off his hand and his nose. Steve sighed. He didn't want to have this conversation but knew it had to be done.

“Hey, Nancy?” Steve said.

Nancy looked at him, “Yes?”

“We need to talk,” Steve told her.