A Shift in Balance
A full carafe was in the middle of the table, but no one was allowed to pour themselves a glass of water. Not that anyone was particularly thirsty. However, being told not to touch something made that object despicably desirable.
Considering that they were guests in the house Mrs Miller had once thought was inhabited by a girl possessed by the devil - the very girl who was right at this moment colouring in the kitchen with Malia - it was almost laughable how small it was. The whole pack, plus Lea, was gathering around a little round table, squeezing in as close as they could so they could keep the carafe in their field of vision like it was the most valuable object in their vicinity.
"Imagine that carafe was a spring. Its water is endless but it is contained by a small vessel which doesn't have much capacity. I cannot fill it with more water than it can hold. But if I take water from it," Noshiko said and pulled the carafe over to her side of the table. She poured herself a glass of water. Then a man from behind her refilled the carafe so that it was now full again. ", it will refill. With time and effort, that is. If too much is taken, and there is not enough power to refill it, the spring will dry out and die."
Noshiko targeted Stiles with a look.
"That's how you can imagine what being a Spark means.
The only spring not contained by a vessel is one of nature. Like the Nemeton. It is not bound to a body, a mind, so its power is limitless, but oftentimes it only uses it to keep the world in balance. Creatures gifted with a spark are hidden by it. Children of the moon residing in its area may be granted special powers," she let her gaze fall on Derek.
"It is selfless, only uses the power that flows through it in the name of fate. That is how it is supposed to be," she continued. "It flows through us all, its power. A flourishing, nurturing force that baths us in warmth and gives us hope, strength, faith."
"But any imbalance that can no longer be compensated destroys it. All its energy is wasted in a predetermined lost war."
Noshiko lowered her head in sorrowful commemoration. Her mother had not been able to save the nemeton from its decline, and now the sorrow and guilt of this misfortune were resting on Noshiko's shoulders as if they were passed on hereditary.
"Its flow stopped and ever since then the area the Nemeton has provided for has been cut off from its influence. Now, the forces - good and evil - are battling each other. People become more easily corrupt. The land is no longer protected. Ever since there has been an ongoing battle between good and evil, and the people are the ones to fight it."
"So you're saying that there was no evil before the Nemeton was destroyed?" Lydia asked sounding sceptical.
Noshiko shook her head. "There was evil. Where there is light, there is shadow. But good and evil were being kept in balance. For growth, there needs to be both sun and rain. This is what we believe in. The natural order. We are its enforcer."
"I don't believe that people need a Nemeton to know what's right. There's always a choice," Jackson said.
"There is," Noshiko agreed. "But it's not always black and white. There are many grey areas. Without balance, violence, darkness, and greed are easily fostered. Everything is twisted and sometimes the decisions based on good intentions turn out to be the cruellest and unforgiving ones."
She levelled the group with a meaningful look so that nobody dared to disagree. They had all seen cruelty in some form or another.
"Without a Nemeton, a surrogate must be found. In this case, the surrogate found his way here by himself."
Stiles gulped. The significance of his role had never been clear to him, but now that he knew he suddenly felt too small to bear it.
"And the effects of that decision have been immediate, haven't they? Even before your spark was awakened, the ground was coursing with energy again. A Banshee has turned up. A Beta has become an Alpha just in time to save his pack. Those are all signs that lead us here. And someone else as well."
Noshiko then again lowered her head. "And he got to you sooner than we, for which I owe you all an apology. Untrained Sparks, especially right after the awakening of their powers, are trouble magnets. It can happen that, without even knowing, the Spark's power can be stolen. As is the case here."
"Not completely stolen," Stiles corrected.
"Otherwise you wouldn't even be here anymore," Noshiko's voice was cutting. "He has leached onto your spark already, and he will not rest until he has drained you entirely. Worse is that he is countless times stronger than you. He will use everything in his power to make you surrender. He even awakened the dead. And since the ghosts felt the same power coursing through you as the one that had awakened them, they think you're the one responsible."
Which he partly was, Stiles thought.
"Your carafe can never be full again unless we stop him, Stiles. And if he takes more, well," she took the carafe and smashed it against the table. As it broke into pieces, Stiles flinched. He looked at the shattered carafe and was immediately brought back to the graveyard, where he had almost died. He remembered the cold as it engulfed his body and his heart. At that time, he hadn't feared death because he had known it was the price he had to pay for his mistakes. As long as no one else had to suffer. He had played with power and he had lost.
But he had survived.
Not because he had deserved it. Not because he had tried to outrun death.
It was because someone else had fought for him. Not just someone. Burly. His dad. The pack. Derek. They had all worked together to keep him alive.
"You could've made your point without breaking a perfectly fine carafe," Jackson muttered, loosening the tension. "That's a little dramatic, don't you think, Mrs Yukimura?"
Stiles looked at him in surprise. Being the jokester had always been his role in the pack, hasn't it?
The Kitsune chose to ignore the werewolf's comment.
"It's essential that you realise that we are your last help. We've trained Sparks before and we know what we are dealing with. No offence, Alpha Hale, but our organisation is better equipped at handling this delicate situation than your pack is and, therefore, I request, granted that the Spark agrees, that his training will be assigned to us from now on."
"You want me to just hand him over to you?" Derek asked with furrowed brows.
"Provided that he himself agrees, yes. He is allowed to make his own decisions, yes?"
That was a deliberate blow and Derek knew it. How she knew that Stiles had distanced himself from the pack, he didn't understand. It was suspicious, so much was clear.
"Why would I," Stiles stressed that word so to make the others aware that he was indeed present and that this decision was his alone to make, "want to partake in your training? I know nothing about you or your organisation of hippies."
"The only way to get to know us is to be among us," Noshiko countered. "We don't demand life-long devotion, Stiles. We want to help you. You can take up our offer and leave when you think we bring nothing to the table. But I do think it is sensible in your situation to exploit all your options."
"You also trained Jordan?"
Said man then stepped forward from the row of men that were lined up at the wall behind Noshiko and nodded seriously.
"I have never regretted making this decision and I am sure that neither will you. I was lost before they found me. Now I have a purpose. I have a home," Jordan said passionately.
Stiles briefly looked at Derek, who he once thought of as his home too. The pack had been home, to be exact. It was where he felt like he belonged. Where else would his weirdness be tolerated than in a pack of werewolves and other supernatural creatures?
It was not that he intended to trade what he once thought of the place where he belonged for a new one.
It was not like that at all, he told himself.
He didn't long to be apart of something, that's what he had sworn to himself. He needed to be independent.
So he leaned back and gave a crooked smile. "Can't knock til I try it, right? So when do we start?"
The pack left the small house with varying emotional states. Some felt betrayed, some were anxious for the future, some were furious. But everybody knew that a big change had occurred that night and that nothing would be like it had been before.
"I can't believe that you're supporting this," Scott exclaimed as he walked to his motorcycle.
"Why wouldn't I? It is foolish to think that we can handle this one on our own."
Scott gritted his teeth in anger. "We always have, though. We won every fight that came our way, even when the odds were not in our favour. That's what we are, we are fighters. We don't just - we don't just give up and let someone else fight."
Now Isaac was about to lose his temper as well. "At what risk, Scott? There were times when we almost didn't make it! Don't you remember the time when Jackson was almost killed? Or Lydia? Or even Stiles, not even two months ago? This is not a joke! War means casualties. And I'm tired of agonizing over who will be the next one."
Scott looked at him incredulously. The helmet he was just about to put over his head was lowered again.
"So you just trust them to take care of everything? You believe they'd do it if there wasn't something they wanted out of this? And their interest in Stiles? That's not trustworthy. And I know that's saying something coming from me."
Isaac looked like he wanted to say more on the subject but then he just turned his back on Scott and walked towards the front porch.
"I just want it to end. Now that I finally know what's wrong with this goddamn town, I want it to be solved. I've had enough of this shit."
He didn't even give Scott a chance to respond. He closed the door of the Hale House behind himself before one more word was uttered.
Derek saw Isaac storming in, heading immediately upstairs, presumably to his room.
The Alpha shook his head in thought. It was not hard to guess why Isaac was so upset over the dispute whether Stiles' decision was a good one or not. Isaac didn't care that Lydia, Jackson, Erica and Allison didn't believe what the Kitsune had told them about the imbalance in their town. They had never known it any different. They all were well acquainted with the hardships they had had to face in life and they were no longer complaining. For them, that was what life was like. But Isaac, he had experienced a cruelty that no one could just simply accept as their lot in life. And he took the talk about imbalance to heart.
Derek himself couldn't quite shake off the feeling that some truth must be to it since his own life had once taken such a drastic turn for the worst. Having an explanation for it - something to blame for the mess - felt oddly relieving.
"You wonder why I so adamantly fight for my freedom from this pack when none of you has any trust in my decisions. How can that still puzzle you?"
Stiles was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, looking honestly curious as he posed the question. Derek would've laughed about his ignorance for the answer to his question was quite clear, in his opinion.
"Why are you questioning your importance for this pack when we worry about every decision you make?" Derek shot back, feeling tired.
He didn't feel like arguing anymore. They had reached a dead-end. He nor Stiles had changed their stance and none of them was willing to.
"Being viewed as a burden is not what I desire, thank you," Stiles said, crossing his arms. His voice sounded sour.
Derek again shook his head and then straightened himself. Leaning against the counter for so long had made his bones become stiff. To him, it felt like he had stood there for an eternity.
"You do what you want anyway. Haven't you always?"
The teen stood still. Obviously, he didn't know how their discussion had come to this point.
Stiles sighed before he raked his fingers through his hair, which had become longer and wilder over the last few months.
"That's kinda true, I suppose. What's surprising is that you sound resigned, like there is nothing you can do about it. And now you don't even want to anymore."
"Yes."
"Don't just say 'Yes'! Wasn't this the whole point of us? That we argue? Especially about how incompetent I am?" Stiles was now agitated enough to leave his spot and walk over to Derek so that he can bore one pointy finger in his chest.
Derek grabbed his wrist and closed the pointed finger to a fist.
"I don't agree with some of your choices. This one. But I can be an adult about it," the Alpha then stated calmly.
"And I'm not is what you're saying?" Stiles challenged.
"No," Derek said. "I'm saying that I grew up a little."
Stiles held his breath at the words. He couldn't believe that they had come out of Derek Hale's mouth.
What Derek said was true. He had grown, as an Alpha, as a brother and uncle, and as a friend; a development Stiles had never thought possible.
"Just to be clear: There will be no of your usual scheme. You know, baring the teeth, using the claws and the superhuman strength in order to intimidate the poor human?"
Derek rolled his eyes, but otherwise nodded in agreement.
"Huh."
The werewolf flicked him on the head for that with a muttered "Idiot" added.
Feeling some semblance of normalcy return, Stiles smiled.
"Now that's the sourwolf I know."
"Stiles, I want to accompany you."
"What."
"To your first training," Derek specified.
"Absolutely not."
"Please."
Now that got Stiles reeling. He felt like the ground he had known for years suddenly turned out to be completely different than he remembered and now he lost his footing.
"You said please," he deadpanned.
"I don't trust them. So let me at least drive you."
This was not something that Stiles had expected. He had known from the moment he had made his decision that it would kindle a new conflict with the pack. He had known that and still, he had chosen that path.
He had thought that he'd lose all the support that had been suspiciously given to him since that night at the graveyard.
And yet, here they were, with Derek offering to stand by him, even though he didn't approve of his decision.
This was not going the way he had foreseen and it left Stiles utterly astonished.
"Fine, I guess. Officially, I'm not allowed to drive anyway," Stiles caved in, too overwhelmed by the turn of events to refuse.
Derek snorted. "But you still drove yourself to the warehouse, anyway."
Stiles smiled.