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hedwig221b · 20 days ago

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“Are you gonna tell me what’s going on now?” asked Stiles.

Derek’s neck bobbed as he swallowed. His fists clenched by his sides; he forcedly relaxed them when he met Stiles’ hard gaze, but Stiles did not forget.

“We’re leaving.”

Green eyes against the ashen face.

Stiles felt like he was going deaf. His heart jumped into his throat, constricting his breathing, his stomach in a pinch.

“We?” Stiles rasped, knowing the answer.

Derek nodded. “Me and my family.”

Not ‘pack’. Because the pack included Stiles.

Tremor settled into Stiles’ fingers. He blinked and blinked but couldn’t see Derek’s face.

“T-to visit Laur—”

“We’ve been tracking Peter all this time,” said Derek. His voice was quiet and detached, in the way it never was. Like his throat was tight, too. “One of our allies has finally spotted him.”

Last night. The call.

“Okay,” Stiles nodded. If Derek needed him strong, then… then… “When are you—” he cleared his throat. “When are you coming back?”

Derek didn’t answer. The muscles bulged in his jaw. His breathing was weirdly, strangely calm.

“I do not know.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that I could be gone for years, Stiles.”

Days, weeks. Stiles expected months, but…

Years?

“How hard is it to catch one dude?” Stiles’ voice trembled as anger sizzled inside. He stepped closer to Derek, and the wolf didn’t lean away. There was this mask on his face, stupid and impenetrable, and this was not his Derek. It wasn’t. “He is just a wolf, Derek.”

“You don’t know Peter.” Derek shook his head. “But I promise you—”

“Don’t you dare.”

“— that I will catch him. That I will kill him.”

“Derek.”

“Baby,” Derek breathed in the softest voice Stiles had ever heard from him. One could kill with this softness.

“Don’t you dare.” Stiles shook his head.

The wolf grasped at Stiles’ trembling hands. Stiles tugged the air into his lungs, but it refused to go in.

He could only look into the green, the lovely green. His life, locked inside those eyes.

“Remember I told you that I will do anything for you?” said Derek. “I meant it. Your life, your safety is all that matters to me.”

Stiles barked a hysterical laugh. “So you’re leaving Beacon Hills?!”

“I’m leaving you.”

The words slammed into Stiles’ mind. He shook his head. He could have trashed, if it weren’t for the circle of Derek’s hands on him. Those hot, strong hands. That green.

“No,” Stiles whispered.

“He is a direct threat to your life. I cannot let him live any longer, do you understand?”

“Then take me with you!” Stiles yanked his hands, but Derek held them. “I’ll be the bait, I can shoot, I can—”

“I don’t want you to come with me.”

Stiles blinked at him. His mouth opened and closed.

“What?” he breathed.

“You have your father. School. You have an entire life to live.”

Hot, angry tears slid down Stiles’ cheeks.

“I don’t want it without you!” yelled into Derek’s face. He yearned for one emotion from that man, just one to slip out of that mask, but Derek hid it all. “You are my life, you are my fucking mate, Hale! Don’t tell me all of this was nothing!”

“Stiles, you are human.”

“Oh, fuck you…”

“Listen to me. Listen!” Derek growled for the first time, tugging him close. Stiles’ eyes stung, they burned, yet he couldn’t look away, was afraid to blink. “Whatever you feel, this residual thing, it comes from me. From my side. Once I’m gone, everything will be okay.”

“What are you saying?” Stiles could not believe it.

And there. The flicker in the stone, the microscopic crack.

“I’m saying,” Derek’s voice shook, too, “that I am letting you go. You are free, do you hear me? Free from me, from this bond. Don’t wait for me. If you find someone—”

“Fuck you.” The breathing became harder and harder to accomplish.

“— don’t hold yourself back. Not because of me.”

The tears scalded his skin and his throat.

“Is that what you think of me?” Stiles spat bitterly. His chest heaved. “That I’ll just hop onto another dick as soon as the door closes, is that it?”

“Of course, not.”

“Or do you think that I feel nothing? Or that since I’m human—”

“Stop this.” Derek released his hands but caught his face, shaking the hysteria off him. Stiles clutched at his wrists, digging his nails into the wolf’s skin. “Did you not hear what I said? I could be gone for years, and I don’t want you to feel guilty for… For anything.”

“Fuck you, Hale,” Stiles snapped his teeth, sending Derek reeling back. “You want me to say the same, huh? Want me to let you go? Well, fuck you, buddy, you’re mine, do you hear me? Mine! If you look at someone, if you even think of someone other than me, I will fucking kill you.”

Derek, strangely, smiled. It was a barely there thing, a burst of sunlight in winter fog. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Why?”

“It’s you or no one,” he said softly, looking all over Stiles’ angry, red, tear-stricken face. His throat clicked. “I will never want anyone else. Not anymore. I’ll always belong to you.” He swallowed. “But it’s… It’s okay if you don’t belong to me.”

“Liar.”

The pretense shattered in Derek’s eyes, and just for a moment, Stiles saw what he was hiding. It was the same wolf that fucked him on the full moon. The same man who left his marks on Stiles’ skin last night.

But Derek was strong. Stronger than him. Perhaps, he wouldn’t be okay with that, but he would let Stiles go. He really meant it.

“Maybe,” Derek smiled unkindly. “But I’ll still do anything for you.”

“Stay,” Stiles begged as his throat closed up.

But it was for nothing. He felt it in his bones — this bond with Derek, already stretching thin. Derek made up his mind. There was truly nothing more important for the wolf than the life of its mate.

And even Stiles himself was helpless here.

“Breathe, baby,” Derek stroked his cheeks. “Like that.”

“Don’t—” Stiles sucked in desperate breath. “Don’t do this to me.”

“I’ll keep you safe.”

Black spots danced in front of his eyes, and Stiles shook his head to make them disappear. He had to keep looking at Derek, he had to…

His nails dug into Derek’s wrists, drawing blood, but the wolf’s hold on him was feathery light.

His eyes, green. Like nothing in this town.

“I love you, Stiles,” said Derek, his voice trembling at last. When another howl, more urgent this time, broke the forest’s silence, he squeezed his eyes shut for a second. “Promise me not to go into the woods alone. Promise not to do anything stupid.”

Stiles couldn’t breathe. Panic squeezed around his throat.

“D-don’t—” he choked in a dry, listless voice. His knees trembled.

“It will be alright,” Derek cooed at him, and since when… did he do that… “Promise to breathe for me. For both of us, okay?”

He placed his palm to the back of Stiles’ head and tugged him close. Stiles felt the familiar sleepiness that came with the pain pulling. He was too distraught to fight it. It was dark in the crook of Derek’s throat. The wolf’s veins beat against Stiles’ temple, the heat of his skin indistinguishable from Stiles’ tears.

“I love you,” Derek murmured, again and again, holding him, stroking his back and his waist.

Stiles felt like all his old wounds opened at once, and he could do nothing but bleed out here, in Derek’s arms.

It was over. Love, life, meaning… over.

This was the end.

He couldn’t even say I love you back. What a stupid lamb.

Stiles’ lips pressed against the wolf’s skin.

His gums itched unbearably strong all of a sudden, like they never did before.

With the last surge of panic-fueled, desperate adrenaline, Stiles unclenched his jaw and bit Derek’s shoulder.

Blood flooded his mouth, bitter but full of euphoric relief. It lasted for one second before Derek gasped and yanked him back.

And now… Oh, now there was no mask.

“What did you do?” the wolf asked, horrified and panicked. The bond settled between them, grounding and clicking into place — established now, for eternity. Derek’s hands shook, gripping the hair on the back of Stiles’ head. “Oh, Stiles…”

But Stiles couldn’t speak anymore. The blackness took over his vision, cinching his throat into the needle’s eye. The last thing he saw was blood, bright and hot, soaking into Derek’s shirt, and the bite that didn’t close.

You’re mine, thought Stiles as the consciousness slowly left him. Mine.

He felt Derek’s hands on his body, his neck, his cheek. The wolf’s heat, all over. The cold ground beneath them, the bright sky behind his closed eyelids.

Derek’s voice lulled him under as he was talking (to Stiles? to somebody else? he couldn’t tell). His sharp orders to breathe forced Stiles’ lungs to expand and contract. Without him, Stiles would be dead.

Derek had to know that, right? When he leaves, he has to know what it would do to Stiles?

Maybe now he would.

Stiles leaned into his mate, trying and failing to soak him in. He gulped breaths and choked on them as if they were water, sinking down and down. As long as Derek held him, Stiles did not care about drowning. He would inhale that deadly water until there was no air left.

There was no air without him, and no life. Stiles wouldn’t want it anyway in that case.

Soft sheets under his body. The smell of the leftover breakfast. Lips on his forehead, his cheek, his mouth.

Derek let go.

Stiles did not resurface.

[full version]

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lifebeginsbyleaving · 9 months ago

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The Cards We're Dealt

A.N. This is for sterek week. @sterekweek-2024 Prompts tarot cards and dealer's choice (the second one I definitely took too literally lol) Hope you enjoy! :) Oh and this is only part one, part two is hopefully out tomorrow.

Word count: 9,668

***

Whether you play fast and loose, bet it all, or are simply looking for an answer the cards always deal their own fate.

Derek knows there's no such thing as luck.

Stiles knows there's no use in trying to change fate. Derek has been a dealer for long enough to have learned the house always wins, but even try as he might to find some trick behind Stiles' tarot reading his warnings ring true and he can't see a single tell in his eyes.

Stiles' fingers have always found the right card, but what if this tangle with fate is less about reading it and more about following it.

Sometimes you just have to play the hand you're dealt, even if you pull the death card for your future.

****

The table creaked and thudded as it ominously rocked back and forth, the candles flickered in the chilly gusts of wind, the table cloth rustled delicately as the various strings of beads harshly swung and jangled together. Stiles' eyes were rolling back into his head as his nails harshly dug into the plush velvet table.

"She has a message for you." Stiles gasped out as if he was being choked, his voice strained. The veins on his neck bulged to the point of almost being able to see his heartbeat.

The man had wide fearful eyes filled with tears and yet he sounded hopeful when he pleaded, "Yes, yes? What is it?!" He was crumpling the brochure that Stiles had given him at the beginning of the reading with trembling hands.

"Sh-she says, she misses you. And she doesn't want- d-doesn't want you to... To worry. And she told me to tell you how much she loves you." Stiles gasped in a big breath at the end of his sentence and his eyes were starting to come back into focus as the tension slowly was leaving his nails.

"Wait! She didn't say anything else?"

Stiles not only rolled his eyes back into his head with a jolt, but also rolled them sarcastically in his head. "She- oh no I think I'm going to lose her! Wait, no- She says add more spices. Double the amount of cumin and it'll taste like her recipe." Finally Stiles let all the tension over his entire body go and he collapsed forward on to the table.

The man was freely weeping now. "Oh thank you! Oh thank you! You don't know what you've done for me!" The man reached over to vigorously shake Stiles' hand once he had perked up a bit.

Stiles mopped some sweat from his brow. "Yes. It is so very draining, but my exhausting work must be done to help lost souls just like you." Stiles hated this part, why couldn't they just pay and leave. "It's not often I get such a strong connection." Stiles faked a loud yawn. "I get so tired after channeling a spirit as wonderful and filled with love such as your grandmother."

The man came back to himself a bit before he replied, "Yes, of course. I should let you rest. You said one fifty?"

Stiles nodded and added a tired slow blink as he yawned out, "Tips are always appreciated."

The man looked down at his Versace wallet and pulled out two crisp one hundred dollar bills. "Thank you so much The Magnificent Mieczyslaw."

Stiles inwardly cringed as the man butchered the name. "Mitch is just fine."

The man smiled and once again wrestled Stiles' hand into something more akin to someone fighting a snake to the death rather than a hand shake. "Thank you. The Magnificent Mitch. I just needed her to tell me she was okay." The man looked over his shoulder twice and each time Stiles waved vigorously while yawning.

Finally Stiles let out a sigh after hearing the bell to his shop ring. He reached over to grab his tea from the side table to move it on to the one in front of him. As he took a sip he grimaced at the cold temperature. The man had blathered on endlessly about his ninety-four year old grandmother. Stiles decided to put his cards back in order then go make a fresh cup. He shuffled them mindlessly when two cards fell before him. He picked them up ready to shove them in the pack with the rest when he noticed they were both major arcana.

The Lovers card was absolutely beautiful. It was drawn in a dreamlike summer haze of a scene. A calm peaceful forest with two sapling trees grew intertwined in front of a calm lake, and in the lake a lover gently held his beloved up letting her float looking at the clouds above. His bright red shirt and her electric blue eyes pulled focus from the other softer elements, but the two running wolf shaped clouds she was staring out could still be discerned if you stared long enough.

Stiles' eyes barely widened, but the shock still pulled the tender smile from his face as he stared into the steely red gaze of The Devil card. It had gnarled twisted horns and its mouth was open in a scream of anger as the teeth and fangs jutted this way and that. The card seemed to have a sense of motion from the way its saliva trailed midair all the way back to where its head was thrown back maw open wide. Its throat and jaw was tensed with such a strength Stiles' rubbed his own and he couldn't tell if it was subconsciously because he winced in sympathetic pain, or if he was trying to protect his own skin. The claws on this nightmare seemed more powerful than sharp, they didn't come to a cartoonish point. They did however, remind him of when he'd heard someone say that a sharp knife will cut through skin like butter, but a dull one will tear and gouge out the flesh ripping the sinew out of place instead of snipping. Streets were ablaze behind this behemoth and charred bodies laid all around.

Stiles jolted out of the world of the card as he felt a sinking in his chest and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He regained himself and breathed in and out to center himself before calling out, "Would you like for me to pull you some cards? See what your fate has for you?"

There was a silent pause.

Stiles sighed and muttered under his breath, "Other than skulking around." He increased his volume so the stranger could hear, "And not using my front door, which is quite rude you know." Stiles heard the curtain that separated the waiting area from the back rustle open.

"We did use the front door. And I wasn't skulking."

Stiles flung his gaze back up carelessly to where the stranger was entering and his jaw promptly dropped the retort he had prepared rolling out of both his mind and mouth. Standing in front of him was the most gorgeous man Stiles had ever seen. He was sharply dressed in a double breasted black peacoat and tan slacks, but his shoes matched his coat's shiny black buttons. His beard was very well taken care of and short enough it had to be a bitch to maintain. His hair was neatly groomed into a close fade on the sides while the top was a bit longer. Stiles got the sense it was just on that borderline where it was long enough a couple strands would delicately flop down and the man's strong looking fingers would have to comb through it to get it back into place. Stiles wanted to volunteer to help next time it happened, or at the very least feel those fingers himself. His mind flailed for something to say as the man entered his tent. "Actually you can come in my back door."

The stranger's face scrunched up into some unpleasant emotion that Stiles couldn't figure out as he was busy processing what had come out of his mouth. "Wow I'm glad you try and hit on your clients before they reveal how broken and vulnerable they are and don't just wait until after you take their money."

"Oh. God. That was out loud. I said that out loud with my mouth hole." Stiles was mortified.

Stiles was just about to cover his face in shame when a man he did recognize came in right behind the stranger. "Now boys, please at least let me introduce you both before you jump each other. Stiles, this is my nephew Derek. Derek, this charmer is Stiles."

Peter was often in need of his services and at least a third of the reason he could even afford to get the shop. He didn't need to be offending one of his clients with the deepest pockets. Peter took his family's money and used it to open a casino and happened to hit it big. He also had the most fortunate habit of getting in the sort of trouble Stiles' skills knew how to solve. "Peter, I told you if you ever need an appointment you can call. I hope you didn't wait long. I would've cleared the day for you." Stiles tried to recollect his composure and professionalism.

Peter swanned in and plopped gracefully down in a chair like he always did, but this time he chose the one more off to the side instead of directly in front of Stiles before he replied, "Nonsense. Besides, I wanted Derek to see what you can do."

The stranger, Derek, scoffed, "Right. It was so important for me to see that poor sucker get scammed worse than people taking their pictures with the characters on the strip."

It was Stiles' turn to scoff. "I helped him."

Derek raised an eyebrow, "By scamming him using his dead grandmother? That's pretty low if you ask me. If you'd ever lost anyone you'd know what it's like to want to give anything you have just to hear from them one last time." Derek turned towards Peter before speaking again, "This guy? You brought me to this hack for help?"

Derek went to walk out of the tent but Stiles interrupted his gait with an irritated tone, "I did help him."

Derek turned around and crossed his arms right in front of the opening. "How do you figure? By taking his money? Fooling him?"

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Yes dumbass. Look, that man didn't need me to tell him about how he just needs to move on and not be so desperate. He needed to believe in magic for a moment, to hear from his grandmother. He certainly didn't need the money, but he did need to feel like she was safe and passed on okay. He needed that so he could feel okay. Believe, don't believe it doesn't matter. What matters is that he can sleep at night."

Derek had softened his posture some, but his arms stayed resolutely crossed. "Can you? Knowing you lie and take their money?"

This was the easiest question he answered all the time. "Yes. Because if I have the choice between lying to someone about someone who has passed or a decision they had to make to ease their pain a little, or telling them the ugly truth that only hurts I'm going to make them feel better. Besides, only the people that want to feel better come to me."

Stiles looked at Peter's shit eating grin. Stiles squinted at Peter. There was something in the way Peter was looking at Derek that made Stiles feel like he was missing something. Stiles turned his eyes back to Derek and looked him up and down this time with what Scott and his clients called his 'other gaze', but it was really just him looking for clues. Derek tapped his finger against his bicep while he stared down Stiles' intent searching.

Stiles finally felt like he grasped what Peter was smirking about. "And where do you work?"

It was the first time Stiles felt like he caught Derek on the off foot. His eyes went steely and his jaw clenched, it made the muscle in his neck clench. Stiles wanted to lick it. Derek spat out, "I hardly see how that matters."

Stiles grinned. "Oh what do we have here, hmmm?" Stiles tapped his own cheek, he enjoyed making Derek squirm immensely. "A partner or just a spoiled rich kid living off of family money would make you complicit enough, but no it's deeper than that. Not a bartender, you'd get hit on too much and murder someone." Derek narrowed his eyes, but Peter was gleaming with glee. "You don't seem like the behind the scenes number crunching type, and with a face like that it'd be a crime. No you're up close and dirty." Even with him standing across the room and Peter still there Stiles liked the effect he could barely tell he was having on Derek. "Oh no, please tell me-" Stiles didn't even try to stifle his laugh. "You're trying to lecture me about morals and taking advantage of people when they're down and you're a fucking dealer at your family's casino?"

Derek's face turned sour and Stiles let out a belly laugh. Peter even chuckled slightly. Derek uncrossed his arms and kept his clenched fists by his sides as he stalked closer. He leaned over the table and felt the heat from the candle streaming up to his chin. "I don't use people's dead families to get a buck."

Stiles sobered at that cutting remark. "No. You use their alive ones." Stiles interrupted Derek's attempt at a rebuttal, "Oh come on, how many 'just one more hand' men walk up to your table leaving behind little girls asking for ponies and wives just begging to not take the money that puts food on the table? How many elderly women are just looking for someone to talk to and something to do and instead gamble away their grandkids college or trusts? I won't pretend like either of us don't take money from vulnerable people, but can we both agree that they're willing to give it. And in a lot of cases they need to give it, even if it only helps temporarily." Stiles tilted his head and raised his eyebrows looking for some form of agreement from the other man.

Derek merely squinted his eyes and leaned back upright.

Stiles, ever the bigger person, would accept that. Also he literally couldn't afford to lose Peter as a client. "Now how can I be of service?" He pointedly looked away from Derek and to Peter.

Peter shrugged and motioned back to Derek. "It's his problem, his story. As much as I love talking with you Stiles." Peter put a hand over his heart.

That made Stiles smile and roll his eyes considering the first time Peter and him had talked it went much worse than this. Stiles had stabbed him. Stiles looked back at Derek.

A moment of silence later Stiles grabbed for his cards. "How about I give you a free reading to break the ice."

Derek huffed and crossed his arms again.

Stiles groaned out, "Oh come on tall, dark, and broody! If Peter brought you here it doesn't matter how much of a hack you think I am, I can help. Sit down and let me read you, then we can move on to giving you the help you so desperately need."

Derek reluctantly flung the chair back and slammed down into it while making a gesture that Stiles chose to interpret as, 'Oh please help me! Take all the time you need. You're so gracious.' instead of it's more probable meaning of, 'Let's get this over with.'

Stiles began shuffling the cards and took a deep breath to focus and Derek rolled his eyes.

Stiles huffed out, "Dude, come on. This isn't going to help anyone if you can't even get over the way I breathe."

Derek started to unbutton his coat. "I just don't think someone holding the key to my future would say dude like a teenager playing Fortnite."

Stiles got a lot of flack for not being an eighty year old Romani woman so he let it go while doing a couple regular and then reverse shuffles. He slid out the cards in front of Derek in one swift move.

"I know that trick too." If Derek could look more unimpressed it would surely be record breaking.

Stiles' head fell to the table and then he whipped it back up to glare at Peter. "God, why did you even bring him here he's such an asshole!"

Stiles muttered mostly to himself, "That's not even my trick yet." When he turned back to Derek he looked a bit shocked at Stiles' outburst. Almost as if he'd never been called an asshole before, but Stiles knew without a shadow of a doubt that wasn't true.

"Pick three." Stiles crossed his arms as Derek draped his coat over the back of his chair.

"Do I have to think about it?" Derek still looked like he'd rather be stepping in dog poop right about now.

"Nothing so strenuous. Wouldn't want to wrinkle those eyebrows anymore than they already are. Just choose. The cards will call to you."

Another eyeroll and Derek snatched out three random cards.

He was about to turn them over when Stiles interjected, "Oh wait, no don't turn them over. That's for me to do."

Derek stared flatly before setting the card back down.

"This is just your basic past, present, future spread to get you started." Stiles flipped over the first card. "I'm sure pop culture hasn't failed you so much that you don't know we start with your past." Stiles looked at the card and grimaced. There was a man pierced nine times with swords pinning him down to the ground and another blade jutting up through his heart. The sword blade side pointing to the sky through the body was the only one that had a curved shaft, much like a scimitar. Ten different swords at all angles each causing the anguished look on his face. The battlefield beneath him was more blood than grass, however from the top of the hill his body rested on past all the blazing bodies you could see a vibrant sunrise off in the distance. The man's long limp hand was still gripping the sword stabbed into his heart as if trying to undo the damage done.

"So do I have to read my own tarot, or are you going to get to it sometime today?" Derek snarked.

Stiles blew air through his nose at him and started to speak, "Ten of swords. This is a card that shows not just pain, but utter devastation. I'm sorry for all that you've gone through. I can only ima-"

"You've met Peter before. The family fire was all over the newspapers, only one search away. If you want to use my dead family to trick me you're going to have to try harder." His tone was sharp and cold even as he tried for flippant and his eyes shot icicles directly at him. Derek twitched like he might leave based on Stiles' response.

Stiles looked to Peter almost as if he was asking permission. Peter nodded. "Do it Stiles."

Derek hated being looked at with pity, but at least for once he didn't think it was because of his dead family. Stiles almost looked like he was pitying him for what he was about to say.

"Swords in general mean pain, loss, suffering. The ten in particular means hitting bottom, destruction, failure, feeling stabbed in the back. It can mean betrayal by those closest to you. In your past you were betrayed and it caused the worst day of your life. Your downfall came from your heart and the very one you trusted to safeguard all that was precious to you drove it to ruin instead." Stiles paused to look up at Derek.

If his earlier demeanor had been chilly icicles now his gaze turned to thawed spring pools. He wasn't on guard anymore, but it was just as dangerous. The vast changing depth of the emotion showed in Derek's eyes made Stiles want to dive in till he drowned. He had never had a reading feel like this before. Something about Derek's eyes felt like he was being read right back, every tell every twitch being examined. Just as easily as the warmth had shown itself it was gone.

Stiles continued, "But a lot of the swords cards portray loss and defeat. The ten of swords is more specific. It can mean new horizons, it can mean a fresh hope, and the end of a cycle. Ten specifically is the darkest hour before dawn has come. This card tells me you're ready to move on, never forget, but to move forward and truly honor those you've lost by living the way they would want you to."

Derek had a sharp retort that he wanted to fling back at Stiles but it died on his tongue. No one knew about Kate, except Peter, and he wouldn't be calmly reading a magazine to the side if Stiles had just blurted out that he told him. Maybe a year ago or hell even a few months ago he would've bitten Stiles' head off and stormed out, but he'd been calmer since he moved back to Beacon Hills. The job and being close to Peter and Cora had helped. He knew Laura was just a phone call away and he'd always be grateful for his time with her in New York afterwards, but Beacon Hills was his home. He knew that deep down in his bones even if he didn't quite feel at home just yet.

"Read the next card." Derek demanded.

Stiles was already flipping it over. There was a group of young saplings in a field. It looked as if a great storm had passed through, branches were strewn about the ground and even some of the trees uprooted. "Your present. The page of wands, but it was drawn in reverse. This can represent strangers thrust into our lives. Often with the pages cards it has to do with some sort of mentorship or student, learning or growth in some capacity. Drawing it in reverse means something has gone wrong with this apprenticeship. Sometimes a reversed page means foolhardiness, recklessness, or even impulsivity. You're dealing with a situation that is causing you much strife and worry. The trees you've planted have been uprooted or thrashed in some way and you fear it is your fault. This card seeks to tell you it isn't your fault, but still your responsibility. You planted the seeds and tended to them, but you cannot control the storms that come, and even more difficult to accept, you cannot weather them for your pupils." Derek's face was an unreadable wall that made even Stiles question if he was way off. "Do you have anyone you're mentoring right now, or someone who has aligned with your path only to stray."

Derek replied with no emotion. "You could say that."

His indifference pissed Stiles off. He was really trying here and this dude couldn't care less. He was going to have to have a talk with Peter about bringing in hot men that were determined to look at him like the dirt under his shoe. Stiles trudged on, "Okay, final card. The moon. Huh, well that sucks."

Derek leaned in and asked quickly, "What? Why does that suck?"

A little part of him felt the victory in that, but he shoved it down knowing Derek would leave if Stiles showed that he thought he had won.

"It sucks because it's an elusive card. It's hard to get an answer out of a moon card. The future is still fluctuating for you." Stiles picked up the card to study it closer. The most prominent thing in the card was of course the moon, but there was a smaller moon reflected in a river. The flow of the river bisected the card on one side there was a family camping next to a roaring campfire and on the other a solitary wolf with red eyes. There was a harsh breeze blowing through the woods on the side of the wolf, but a raven was gently gliding in the canopy above the joyful family. This card confused him, and that rarely happened when he did an actual reading.

Stiles attempted to pull it all together. "There are a lot of female moon goddesses, this card can hint at women's health, and cycles. All in all this can be a very feminine card, maybe a mysterious or obscured from you woman is trying to warn you or lie to you. I don't know. This card also represents cycles, what we begin we are doomed to repeat, but also that good and evil, dark and light never truly go away they just have phases. There are dark sides to the moon, but also a brightness that we must remember isn't always the time to grasp for just yet."

Derek's arms crossed once again. "A woman that is either trying to help me or lie to me? So you're just seeing a woman in my future, you don't know jack shit about what she's actually there to do?"

Stiles huffed. "Look, it's difficult sometimes." He studied all three cards this time looking to unlock the final one. "It's a major arcana so it's important. Look, see? The ten of swords is an elemental card of air, but the battlefield was covered in fire. The page of wands is an elemental card of fire, but the trees were bashed by wind. That could hint towards the feedback loop of your past and present, your inability to let go. Then the moon card is water based, in this card there remains the elements of wind, moving the trees and fire in the campsite, but water takes up a majority of the space. Water is cleansing, healing, restorative. There is the destruction and pain of the fire present as well as the change and motion of wind, but for your future it's important to stay mailable and looking to where the river takes you, not where it's been. There's two sides to this card one holding elements of your past card and one holding present. This could imply that sooner rather than later you're going to have to make a choice between the two. The lone wolf poses a danger to the family and the family poses a danger to the lone wolf. One must triumph over the other, but the moon does not tell me which choice you make. It only tells me that you and you alone must choose."

Derek soaked all of the confusing information in. "So I assume the family around the fire represents my past, and the lone wolf my present?"

Stiles considered it before answering. "Not necessarily, it could mean the opposite. Remember your past card was air element like the wind above the lone wolf, and then your present was fire element. Also there's a raven in the corner above the family. Raven's represent many things across cultures. Absolute power in Nordic traditions due to their allegiance with Odin, they became a very prominent harbinger of death and murder in the victorian era, and in many cultures represent occult and the knowledge it holds."

"So which is the bird in this case?" Derek asked.

Stiles looked very somber for a moment before replying in a serious tone. "I've already given you the answer." Stiles dropped the mystic act and cocked a brow at him. "What part of your future is fucking elusive bro and I don't know didn't register with you."

Derek's mouth gaped in shock. He banged the table and thrust out an open palm towards Stiles. "This is literally your job!" He looked towards Peter. "You're paying him to talk like this to you?!"

Peter chuckled. "No, right now I'm paying him to talk like this to you."

Derek pulled both of his hands towards his face to cover them with a harsh slap. The moon card had fluttered over onto it's backside with the frenetic movement.

Stiles quirked his lips at the card and squinted his eyes. He flipped it back over gently.

It was like a completely different card. The moon still hung prominent, but instead of a bright blue river it was stained red. Equally the wolf's previously crimson eyes had turned blue and instead of the pensive look the wolf's maw was lifted in what looked like a baleful howl. The wind was still in the trees. The family was nowhere in sight around the campfire which had turned to just embers. A crossbow bolt held the raven against a great oak tree as its blood seeped down the trunk. The blood trail lead to the river. Stiles didn't know if it was just harder to see the silver against the shiny blue water that was there before, but he hadn't seen the sword at the river bed before. A long curved blade rested at the bottom of the blood stained water taking all of the focus the moon had held before.

Derek put his palms on the table to push himself up. His chair made an awful noise as it was pushed back. "I'm done with this. You had me for a second, but you lost me."

Peter started to protest, but before he could get anything out Stiles' hand whipped out and grabbed one of Derek's wrists where it was pulling away from the table. Stiles spoke hoarsely. "Derek. Look at the card."

Derek's eyes moved in-between Stiles' eyes and where he gripped his wrist. When he saw that he wasn't taking his hand off he huffed and contemplated prying off his fingers. For such a scrawny dude he had quite the grip. Derek bit the bullet and just looked down. He frowned at the changed card.

Stiles removed his hand to move his past and future cards closer together. He pointed out the heart sword and then the one at the bottom of the river, the same sword. "Derek she's back."

That seemed to rattle Derek, because the surprise when he looked back up to Stiles was plainly written on his face. Stiles' eyes had glossed over with a milky white moving haze. "She's coming and she will kill them. I sent you the bird. Don't be a featherbrain."

If surprise was on his face before, now Derek's face showed utter shock. "How did you know that?!"

Stiles' eyes slowly went from milkshake back to whiskey and with one final blink he was back in control with the moment. "Your mother. She used to call you that sometimes because when you were five you got really angry and called her a feather brain instead of bird brain. It was one of her favorite memories of you." Stiles smiled softly. "She was beautiful."

Derek looked distrustful even still. "How did you-"

"Do that? Know that? I didn't. When you're as sensitive as I am to divination magic something as simple as telling someone's fortune can bring to life spirits around them that haven't passed on full or are pulled back."

Derek's face showed sorrow. "My mother hasn't passed on fully?"

There was that pity written all over Stiles' face again. "You think you're the only one that pays the price for the pain you can't let go of? Mercy isn't earned Derek, otherwise your mother would be at rest, it's given. I can tell from not only your past card, but in everything you present to the world your grief defines you. It limits you. It confines you. It is the only thing that holds you here. It is your only anchor in an unsure world, one that holds you back rather than holds you down. The cards tell you you are doomed to repeat the cycle of grief and despair if you cannot let it go."

Derek looked gutted hearing he'd been the cause of his mother's wakeful sleep.

"It's not painful." Stiles lied.

Derek looked at him fully disbelieving.

Stiles sighed knowing he shouldn't have tried to lie to a werewolf. "Not physically. But if she can sense how lost her son has been without her it can be harmful. I've given her a sort of temporary rest for now." Stiles left out the part about how Peter had been using Talia's spirit for various side projects so he was familiar with putting her on ice. He got the sense this made Derek uncomfortable and he didn't know what to do with the various revelations he'd had. "Now that we've got all of that pesky disbelief out of the way let's get to the meat and potatoes. Why are you here?"

Derek once again slumped into the chair, but this time with much less irritation and more acceptance. "Two of my pack- err friends are missing."

Stiles rolled his eyes at the half cocked cover up. "You can say pack I know you're a werewolf. Also dude you just saw my eyes go into twenty seven year old shitzu mode, I think we're passed the me not knowing about the supernatural point."

"Do you have to be such a smartass? They're not pack."

"If you want a monotone no nonsense fortune get chinese food or I think the bowling alley might still have a Zoltar machine." Stiles saw the barest hint of a smile after that one and he couldn't help the way his stomach jumped. Stiles continued while trying to repress his glee, "How long ago did they go missing? What do you want to know? Where they are? Who took them? Are they alive?"

"Two weeks. We got into a fight so I thought they were just cooling off." Derek looked guilty. "I should've known."

Stiles reached out where Derek had his hand on the table. "I don't even always know, and it's literally my job."

Derek pulled his hand back. "Yes. To your earlier question. I want to know all of them."

Stiles shook his head. "You get one."

Derek waved his hand dismissively. "Money is no object. I need to find them. They're my responsibility."

Stiles looked regretful. "Amazing I am, all powerful? Sadly no. You get one, not I'm giving you one."

Derek nodded understanding and then fell silent. He looked to Peter after a moment who seemingly understood his nonverbal request.

"I'd ask if they were alive. No need looking for a dead racehorse."

Derek gave Peter a less than thrilled look. While Stiles scoffed and replied, "Peter! That's so rude. Stop pretending to be heartless otherwise one of these days we'll believe you." He turned to Derek. "One question. Take your time."

The gentle noises of his shop filled the silence as Derek looked deep in thought. Stiles patiently waited. Derek finally spoke, "I want to know where. Where are they, how do I get to them?"

Stiles shook his head. "Where they are might not necessarily be how you get to them. That's two questions."

Derek's fists balled and he caught the barest hint of fangs in his snarl. "How is that two! How will I get to them if I don't know where they are?!"

Stiles spent most of his day to day with the supernatural. He was used to supernatural beings asking him for help, used to being around them in desperate times. Although he had magic, it was divination based. More often than he'd like he was at the mercy of raging upset people with the ability to kill him only equipped with answers they came for but still didn't want to hear. Stiles recognized the wild look in Derek's eyes. The desperation, despair, and rage were there, but also an overwhelming guilt. Normally that cocktail had his eyes flashing white hours before so he knew to call Scott to help, but this time he felt something strange. His magic didn't warn him against, it almost thrummed him towards.

In these situations Stiles had lost count of the times visions had saved his life. However, this flash of his eyes thrust him backwards instead of forward.

He was in his father's backyard, but not how it is, how it was. Stiles took a step, but stopped to look down. He was barefoot. The warm soft summer grass tickled and pillowed his feet. It was almost dreamlike even though Stiles knew that wasn't how this worked, this was real. He heard a sharp shriek and looked back up towards the yard.

A little brown haired boy screamed in joy as he ran towards something. His mother.

Her bright beautiful smile was stretched wide with pure joy. She held her arms wide open from where she was sat on the delicate fluffy grass. It brought tears to his eyes. She was so beautiful. This moment was beautiful, however he knew what happened next. Not because of his abilities, but because he had lived it.

He heard a growl and even as he tried to turn he only saw a flash of grey. He couldn't see it now, he hadn't seen it the first time.

Stiles had long since killed the urge to try and call out or change things in his visions, but tears did sting his eyes at the ruined memory. It always hurt to see how much she had loved him before. Once again Stiles' childlike shriek sliced the air, but this time pain filled. The dog had crossed the yard faster than his mother could get up. His jaws sank into Stiles' chubby kid like calf and a sharp stinging had both sets of Stiles' now tear filled eyes looking down at their respective legs. His leg had the marks, blood, and pain but the dog was only attached to his younger self.

Hearing his mother scream for his father he looked to where she now had them separated and the dog bit at her ankles. Fat tears ran from Stiles' eyes before he buried his pain stricken face into his mother's neck.

Stiles knew what happened next. His father came barreling out, the owner ran up, his mother yelled, and his father calmed everyone down. He didn't need to see anything else, frankly he didn't remember anything else other than going to the hospital and crying.

Yet he lingered.

He saw his father collect information from the man with his hand on Claudia's back. He tuned out of their conversation to look back at her. She wore a look he'd seen many times, but never on his mother. She was terrified. Not of the now calmed dog, or what had just happened. He searched her face, but only came up with fear.

His mother had always been an avid animal lover, but after this moment she had changed. Something about it had scarred her. He was never allowed to get a dog, not even allowed to bring it up. Why had this moment scared her so much?

Realization struck him like a ton of bricks as his body exploded in pain. He felt pulled and thrashed as he was assaulted from all angles by phantom fangs. He shouted in pain as the blood ran from the dozens of bite marks menacing his body. He looked at his brutalized limbs and then back up.

Gone was the scene in front of him. Only pitch black and grass remained along with his mother empty handed. She was staring right at him. She looked at all the blood but this time there was no yell or movement towards him. She had a blank face, she only tilted her head.

Stiles had figured out why she had been so scared. That moment was the first time she hasn't divined something bad before it had happened to him. It was the first time her magic failed her.

Stiles looked back to his wounds then to his apathetic mother.

"Someone has to care Stiles. Tread lightly you know not what the devil will bring to your door if you invite him in."

Stiles pushed down the frustration at how vague his vision had been as he was thrust back to the current moment. Not a second had passed, Derek was still as irritated as he has been. "I need to know where they are!"

The memory he had just experienced softened him in a way he never was with clients, much less new ones that hated him. He gently placed a hand on Derek's fist.

"You feel responsible. We can't claim others blame for a harm that if within our power we would've prevented. Blame is a terrible mistress. The longer you blame yourself the more she gets away with. It makes you rash and impulsive. Your friends are not just lost or gone, they are guarded against you. An unsteady hand cannot unlock even with the right key."

Derek looked taken aback and yet a shutter of calm rattled through his physicality. He took a breath. "I changed my mind. How do I get to them?"

Stiles once again shuffled the deck, but this time arranged five cards with a measured grace. He put the first four in a square formation and then filled the middle with the last card. They looked like the dots on the five face of a die spread out in front of Derek. Stiles flipped the first card in the top left corner of the square from Derek's point of view.

The magician. Stiles frowned at the card. His tarot deck was magic in more ways than one. Mostly they were just a focus for his divination magic, but they changed to suit the person and what he was divining for them. Sometimes the pictures even moved, or like it had before, changed images mid reading. This had never happened before though. Normally when he pulled the magician card for someone else it looked either like a legendary witch or like his mystic persona. This was an image of him in his kitchen looking down into a mug of tea. The scene was very intimate and domestic. There were swirls of his magic that cleaned his kitchen and he was just in his Batman PJ bottoms. His hair was sleep ruffled. There would be no mistake.

"It's me?" Stiles sounded puzzled.

"Well yeah I assume you painted the deck. A bit pretentious to paint yourself. What does it mean?" Derek asked impatiently.

"It means me." Stiles pushed out even though he still sounded so unsure. "Not just magic or magic user, this card means me."

Peter piped up, "Well that makes sense. We came here, you're the first step on his journey. Yada yada."

Stiles shook his head filled with unease. "No this means me. Like me, me. Something I do or tell you, not the reading. The reading speaks for itself, and this is saying my name."

Stiles moved to flip the next card but Derek put his hand over his. "Whoa whoa, what does it mean though? Do the thing like you did with the others."

Stiles shook both his head and Derek's hand off of his own. "No. I don't know yet." Stiles felt an unease fill his stomach yet he flipped the next card.

There was a little boy triumphantly holding two identical sticks up in the air in this card. His proud toothy smile was crowned by bright blonde curls and a cozy knit scarf sat snug around his neck. Behind him laid a crossroads. One long winding path lead to a home and the other back to the woods.

Derek grabbed at the card hurriedly before showing Peter. "Look familiar?" An edge of worry was in his tone. "This looks like my friend Issac. What does that mean?"

Stiles shrugged. "Two of wands definitely pertains to your question, it's a card of where do I go next. Sometimes the deck draws on what is familiar to you, but it could be a warning. Since we asked such a pointed question I would caution just disregarding it wholly. Maybe bring him with to find your friends."

Derek looked apprehensive. "I haven't talked to Issac in years. He's in France now."

Stiles continued, "Maybe it's nothing. The message in this card could be for you. You stand at a crossroad between home and familiar and returning to the woods, the more wild side. Either way this card often has to do with the sadness and loss of having to give something up to pursue a goal or vision. It has to do with dominion over people and the power to control things, but in the same vein an indecision and hesitation."

Stiles fingers floated over the middle card and went right for the bottom left. They danced for a moment there. "The first two cards were about preparation. What you did do to find them. This, this is how you find them. Where your journey leads." Stiles flipped the card.

The card was a frenetic animated mess of roots and weaving waving branches. Leaves were fluttering and scattering haphazardly. It was just an ordinary windy forest except for eight thick trunks intricately carved with runic symbols.

"Eight of wands, haste makes waste, but delay is in poor taste. Timing is everything. This card shows that you need to hurry, but poor planning is the fool's folly. Once you find your confidence to strike there can be no delay, but a fight with mind, body and spirit in tune is necessary as well. This card also can mean being smitten with love due to early depictions of the eight wands looking like cupid's flying arrows. Somehow I doubt that's happening here." Stiles looked up to Derek's face and he was still looking at the cards deep in thought.

"Oh I don't know, we've got wolf and witch how far stretched is a baby with aim in this moment. After all, unlikely places." Peter teased.

Stiles flipped the last corner card.

Similarly to the last card Stiles spotted the runes right away this time and noted they were divining runes on both cards. This time they were carved into branches stuck into the ground like a palisade. All eight of them had the runes, but so did the walking stick the man leaned on. The branches cut off the man from his warring past, and even though there was more carnage ahead of him this was usually a hopeful card. He was bandaged and bleeding, but there was a glint of determination burning in his eyes. Eyes that looked straight at Stiles.

He had pulled the card in reverse.

Stiles sucked in a breath and tried to think.

"Just say it." Derek cut in.

"Yet another wand card. Wands are cards of action, fire, and decision. It's an urging card. You must do, experience, embody. You've also pulled a lot of cards related to journeys and hard decisions. This one though is usually a very positive card. In reverse it means triumph comes at a great cost if you insist on doing it before you're ready or alone. No warrior alone wins a war and no pain is lessened by feeling it in solitude. This card warns of losing this fight. Of losing what could be precious to you. Of the future you could lose."

"These aren't helping me figure out where they are."

Stiles shook his head. "You chose how to get to them."

Derek huffed in annoyance. "Show me the last one."

Stiles flipped the last card.

A clearing in the woods created space for the only thing of note in the card. A woman in a cloak with kind whiskey eyes and chestnut hair sat on the ground with an outstretched hand resting on a wolf skull. Small bluebell flowers grew from the eye sockets.

Once again the overly personal nature of his card's portrayal caused him to pause. Stiles found his words, "This is the death card. Do not judge it. It doesn't represent death itself, it represents the transition to a new phase of life. It's a hard road with one final battle before... Something. I feel a culmination. An answer to the question you've spent a lifetime seeking. How do I get there is your question, but the cards wish to tell you a different answer. The cards say this road leads to pain and loss, but there are two sides of it. Two paths to take. Do you dwell and go back to the pain or do you forge ahead and choose a new beginning? Your choices and actions matter. You alone can choose the future or the past, but your choices have consequences for you and those around you."

"How is this the way I get to them?" Derek asked.

Stiles sighed. "Unfortunately the cards are not call and answer. They're more ask and the mystical random dude you came to will maybe slightly point you the right way in the dark."

Derek's annoyance spiked as his patience waned.

"Hey look dude I gave you the way it's up to you to find it. That's what I got for you take it or leave it man." Stiles set the deck to the side but left the spread.

Derek stared at all of the cards intensely. "What if I don't figure out what they mean?"

Peter piped up, "You already know what they mean."

Stiles pointed a finger over to Peter. "Ding ding. Bingo. Someone's been paying attention on his visits. You win a prize tall, dark, and creepy uncle."

"Is it more time with you, because I already pay your rate for what I want. Well, what I can get from this shop." Peter winked at him.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Your prize is don't get coffee tomorrow morning."

Peter squinted his eyes. "Noted."

Stiles turned back to Derek. "Follow your gut. Listen to the cards. Oh also for the love of Weiner dogs, have a plan. But definitely act! Don't wait too long. Oh and unless you..." Stiles trailed off after he realized he wasn't helping.

Derek stabbed a finger into the cards. "These mean fuck all!"

"Focus. This isn't where they are. You didn't ask that. This is how you'll get there, the journey. Look at the cards, really look. Not for what you see, but what they could be telling you. We have multiple senses, but our most powerful is our inner sense. What pulls you, what draws your eye."

"The woods. They seem familiar."

Stiles nodded. "Good. Familiar how? Have you been there before? Do they feel like home?"

Derek tilted his head. "Like I've been there before." He tapped on the card with the curly haired boy. "Okay say Issac has something to do with this, why is he a kid though?"

"Did you meet him as a young boy?" Stiles asked.

Derek shook his head. "I met him about five years ago when he was sixteen. His dad was... Not the best. He needed a safe place and I could help him."

Stiles studied him as he spoke. "That's not the only reason. I can tell you're a good person, but I can also tell there was something about this boy. Just now you looked sad for him, but not in a sympathetic way. You looked genuinely empathetic. I won't ask what or who, but I just ask that you consider this with an open mind. Maybe he represents something childlike in you. A time you had been lead astray from your path, taken advantage of. A time you needed protection." Stiles could tell from the steely jaw and hard eyes he had made a correct assessment. "Don't linger on those moments, but unfortunately I think something about that situation will point you in the right direction."

Derek gave a curt nod and cleared his throat. "Can I take a picture of these?"

"Of course."

Peter and Derek both stood up. "We've taken enough of your magnificent time." Peter mocked a bow.

"Always a pleasure Mr. Hale." Stiles bowed his head back.

"Um, thanks." Derek stood awkwardly with his hands in his pockets. "Oh, how do I pay you?"

"Your second born and a year's subscription to divination doodads magazine." Stiles said.

"Funny." Derek said with a deadpan tone.

"I know I am, it's my best quality. Dude you just pay me like anyone else credit, debit, cash, I even take Paypal."

"Debit is fine." Derek took out his wallet as Stiles stepped behind the counter. He punched a few things and Derek swiped his card. Before putting it back he hesitated before speaking, "You really don't feel bad about this? Charging people to help them?"

Stiles shrugged. "I gotta eat. Do you feel bad asking poor suckers betting their mortgage payment, black or red?"

"Yes." Derek confessed.

"Then of the two of us the one out of balance with their life isn't me. Would you like your receipt?"

A laugh shocked him as it made it's way out. Derek agreed. "Maybe you're right. No thanks."

"I hope you find them." Stiles said earnestly.

"Don't you already know?" Derek asked walking to the door.

"Not how it works. But I do have a feeling you will." Derek seemed the determined type to Stiles.

"Do I have to pay extra for feelings?" Derek's hand rested on the doorknob, but he waited for Stiles' reply.

"Nah, I'll give those to you on the house." Stiles smirked at him.

Derek heard the bell chime and wondered if Stiles had enchanted it. Things long dormant in him fluttered to the surface as he left.

He would find his friends. Maybe afterwards he could come back to the shop to thank Stiles for his help. Maybe.

***

Stiles juggled some of the grocery bags to the other hand to knock. It was a long day, a taxing one with the Hale's visit. He was glad it was over. It had been strange having such a personal vision in the middle of a reading. It had thrown off the rest of his day till he decided to close up early and hit the grocery store. Seeing his mom's face filled with such joy had been like a balm on a wound long closed. It didn't heal anything, but it helped the scar stretch. He missed her so much he wished he could revisit that moment when he wanted to, but it was a vision not a mercy.

The door finally opened and the dagger struck his heart like it always did. A woman with warm whiskey eyes and chestnut hair opened the door surprised. "Stiles, what are you doing here?"

Stiles took a deep breath in for when his throat inevitability caught. "Hey Ms. Gajos."

She smiled. "I told you, you can call me Claudia."

Stiles forced a smile and pushed on. "I really can't, you know that."

She took some of the bags from him. "Ever the respectful young man. The sheriff sure raised you right. And I told you you don't have to keep bringing me groceries. You and your father have been like mother hens since I fell doing the gutters. It wasn't even that bad and it was months ago." Claudia gestured wildly as she spoke.

Stiles turned away from her and placed them on the counter. "My mother did a really good job too." Stiles' eyes went glossy but he willed down his emotions.

He turned back after a moment and she looked lost in thought. "Right of course I'm sure." She looked around confused. "Were we having dinner? You brought over stuff for meatloaf? Are we having meatloaf?"

Stiles pulled himself together. "No Ms. Gajos. I should go. I'm sorry." Stiles felt the familiar spiral of pain, indulgence, and then finally guilt.

She looked so upset. "No no, you can stay. I just can't remember. I can't remember something?" She looked at him with lost pleading eyes. "Are we supposed to eat together? Just let me remember what I-what I... Stiles I'm forgetting."

Stiles started to panic. He grabbed her glasses. "Here. Calm down Ms. Gajos. You're just forgetting your glasses." He held them out hoping he hadn't sent his mom into a spiral.

Her face got wiped of concern and panic and she smiled. "You're such a sweet boy. You better head home. How silly of me and I'm not even sixty yet. Forgetting my glasses what an old lady thing. I thought I'd be all old and wrinkly and covered in baby powder by that time you know." She snorted.

"No you're not old. Everybody forgets little things every now and again." He reasoned.

She turned and cupped his cheek and smiled. "It's good I have a little mischief maker like you around to help me remember."

"Yeah." His voice croaked. "Bye." He turned and walked to the door without looking back.

"Drive safe. That jeep is a death trap!"

Stiles only waved behind.

He made it to the jeep and threw it into reverse as the tears fell. Seeing her was always hard, but today he'd pushed too much. He wished he could stop visiting, it only upset her. But how do you greive someone who's still there? Neither of them could let her go. The town and doctors thought it was just a bad case of amnesia, but his dad and him both knew. They knew this was a curse. A nasty one, one that Stiles had been trying to figure out for over a decade.

The curse had made her forget, but the real curse was that they remembered. Knowing didn't make it easier, in fact he so often wished he was the one that forgot. But that wouldn't piece their family together.

He couldn't help that right now. He could pour over tomes like he did every night, but right now his mind pulled to Derek. That was a unique reading. He didn't feel as in control as he normally did. He wasn't guiding Derek though the cards, the cards guided both of them. Thinking about the strange gruff man brought a smile to his face. He had liked him a lot more than he expected. Derek was as unique as his tarot cards were. Something about him was magnetic and repelling in equal measures. Although he was pretty sure he was rude on purpose.

Tomorrow was a new day. He could worry about curses and cute boys when he wasn't so exhausted.

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