Chapter 11
They hadn't realized that to get him back to age they had to watch him go through the years. They were supposed to spread the treatments by a couple hours, but it hurt them all to watch the boy grow up. He grew to 8 first, and they all watched his hair get short, buzzed to his head, watched the heartbreak fill his features as he sobbed for the death of his mother. They watched him lose weight, obviously not being taken care of properly, and he cried for his dad who'd lost himself in a bottle. When Stiles opened his eyes again Clint pulled him in easily, glad that Stiles would remember them each time, cause he didn't think any of them could handle making him go through this completely alone.
"It hurts. In my chest." Stiles cried, and Clint didn't think there was any other way to describe heartbreak. He looked at Bucky, who's hands were clenched in fists, and offered a weak smile, watching as Bucky rolled his shoulders, trying to relax despite the anger in his gaze.
"I know. But it won't hurt this much forever."
By 10, a sharper wit came out, and it was a sign to all of them that Stiles had spent some time now having to protect himself with sharp words. They heard more about Scott now. How they were best friends ever and despite Scott's asthma they still ran around a lot. Melissa came up a lot too - and it wasn't hard to deduce that she was Scott's mom but had taken on Stiles a bit too. His hair was still buzzed short but he was starting to heal.
At 12, Stiles was all over the place, unable to focus, and he told them with some irritation that he was seeing too many doctors and he didn't like it and it wasn't his fault that he couldn't focus on what they wanted him to focus on. He didn't care about what they were being taught - he wanted to finish learning the new coding system he'd found on his dad's computer who was now a sheriff. Clint wondered when that had happened.
At 14, Stiles' hair was still buzzed short and he still didn't talk about his mom, but his dad wasn't drinking anymore and he was full of nervous energy about what high school would bring. He was still aware that it had already happened and he chattered non stop about what might have happened in high school and wondered if him and Scott were still best bros, and if Lydia ever noticed him.
Watching Stiles become 16 was hard. It looked like it was at 15 that everything changed and Stiles tossed and turned, shouting for Scott, for Lydia, and then they saw the injuries start appearing. The bruises, the cuts, and they all knew enough about injuries to know Stiles wasn't causing them himself. They watched a cut open on on the back of his neck and then Stiles went still, despite looking beyond terrified, and Tony was quick to move forward, checking the cut, and was surprised to see a sticky substance in the cut. He carefully took a sample before they watched the cut heal but scar. It was when Stiles was covered in bruises, his chest black and blue much like it had been when they'd found him, except this time they could see a rib was broken, could see his wrist was sprained, the marks rising on his face. His hair was still buzzed short but his face stayed resolute despite the pain. He whimpered two names, Erica and Boyd, but he didn't give in to whatever, whoever was hurting him. It looked like their Stiles had always been brave. When Stiles finally opened his eyes he looked tired, more on edge, and he told them that Scott had been bitten by a werewolf in their first year and everything had gone to hell from there. He told them about the Hales, about Isaac and Erica and Boyd, the Argents, and the Kanima and Lydia. He told them about having to lie to his dad but that he was glad he could keep his dad safe. The rage was back in Bucky's eyes and Clint understood - it wasn't Stiles' job to keep his dad safe, it was the other way around, and that was obviously not a lesson the sheriff had ever been able to enforce. They couldn't help but wonder if maybe Stiles had left out some details of his fathers behaviour after his mother had passed. It grated at them both.
Though they'd though watching him turn 16 was hard, watching him age to 18 was far worse. His hair finally started growing out and it made him look older, more handsome, and he looked more sure of himself despite the collection of scars that were slowly growing in number. They'd seen him go through panic attacks, but nothing compared to how lost he looked when he was shouting for his dad, and no response came. When his skin grew ice cold to the touch and his pulse slowed to nearly non existent it was Clint who began to panic, watching his lips turn blue, and Bucky who calmed him with a touch to his shoulder, knowing exactly what he was seeing because he'd felt it before. His theory was confirmed when Stiles gasped for breath, colour coming back, his pulse returning to the slightly above average pulse, and he seemed okay. That's when the screaming started. It was Bucky who ended up moving behind him, holding him carefully but comfortingly in his arms, preventing his flailing when he grew panicked, and the panic attacks were a near constant now. His skin grew ashy and the circles under his eyes grew darker and darker. He shouted and screamed at someone to let him out, to leave his friends alone, to stop hurting people, but whoever it was didn't stop. Then Stiles went still. He was still for what seemed like forever - and the tears slipped down his face. Everything grew sharper about Stiles then. He was on edge, even in this in between state, and there was a violence held under a tight leash. He shouted in pain when a circular injury opened on his shoulder, and his hands shook as he seemed not only angry but terrified and heartbroken. This time, when Stiles opened his eyes, they had aged far more than his body had. He hadn't lost the snark, but the heartbreak was still obvious when he explained what he knew they'd seen. He explained the Alpha pack, the sacrifice and the Nogitsune. The Chimera and the Doctors. They'd lost so many now. Erica and Boyd and Allison, all gone. Isaac and Cora left. And though they made new friends, those wounds didn't close.
At 20, Stiles was travelling, and the power he was cultivating was impossible to ignore. His eyes, open wide and blind to the reality in front of them, trapped in memory, glowed like molten gold that darkened to bronze though the glow grew in depth. The scars still appeared slowly but surely but there was a strength in Stiles now, a surety that had been absent when he was younger.
At 24 Stiles told them that he and his pack had rebuilt the Hale house slowly while they were all in school and it was finally finished now that they were back together. He told them that they all lived at the house now, and there was a fondness to his voice when he talked about Derek that made them wonder if there was more there than Stiles was saying. They were strong now - the pack had grown in size but it had also become united. Scott was the alpha but he had Derek as his second, and together they kept things balanced. They all couldn't help but wonder what part Stiles played in all this, he wasn't a werewolf and seemed to have a role of leadership; he wasn't the alpha but even the alpha deferred to him.
Watching Stiles return to his current age, through the last 4 years he'd been missing, was as hard as it had been to watch in the beginning. They watched the grief overwhelm him as his father was taken from him, felt his grief as if it was their own, and they all wondered if this was a result of the magic he held, because there was a vindictiveness to the twist of Stiles' mouth and they wondered if this is how the ones who'd killed his father had felt, wondered if it had crippled them. Once again they watched the injuries appear as Stiles was tortured, and saw his vicious grin that said he wouldn't back down. Not ever. Then as suddenly as the change had happened, Stiles was gasping for breath and his eyes finally landed on the room around him. They wondered what kind of luck it was, that Stiles was retaining the injuries done to him before he'd been de-aged, because even as he looked around and was relieved, his eyes rolled back into his head and he fell unconscious.
>>>
Stiles opened his eyes to a familiar setting. He could remember everything that had happened as his immediate past, having been aware but pushed back behind his younger self, and that meant he couldn't shake just how much all these dangerous heroes meant to him. And the affection he felt for Clint and Bucky - that was slightly less innocent as an adult. He wondered what kind of luck that was - that as an adult he felt something because of how he'd been treated as a child. Morell would have had a field day with that. He closed his eyes again, wishing he could avoid everything for a while - just go back to sleep and remain blissfully unaware for a bit longer, but he knew he couldn't do that. He had to open his eyes, get up, and find his pack. He winced at the thought of them. They were probably worried sick - he'd been missing for months and even though he knew he had to, he didn't want to go back. He wanted to stay. These people, they'd protected him, and loved him, and now he loved them too. The worst part was, he knew the pack would understand - knew they'd want him to be wherever he was happiest as long as he was safe. He felt his spark whisper along his skin, offering soft comfort, and he called back to it, glad he could feel and control it properly again. He was glad for the comfort holding that much power gave him. He knew that these people wouldn't want him to leave - that Bucky and Clint would fight the hardest to keep him here but that the others would fight it as well - and knew he had to leave before they got the chance, because if they did he'd never go back, and he needed to. This time, when he opened his eyes, he grasped his spark, his eyes glowing in response, and focused on the image of the Hale house. Then he let his spark take him there.
>>>
"Stiles has disappeared in a form of energy seemingly of his own volition." The words had both Clint and Bucky on their feet, and Natasha put a hand on Clint's arm even while Tony turned to tap against the table, the computer system popping up to show a video of Stiles in the bedroom, eyes opening, and there was a heartbroken look to them before his eyes glowed like molten gold and he disappeared in an energy of the same colour.
"Where could he have gone?" Steve asked, but Bruce, Bucky, and Clint just exchanged glances. They knew. He'd gone back to Beacon Hills.
>>>
Stiles felt dizzy even as he felt the familiar energy that ran through the Hale land - pack land. He was on his hands and knees but he didn't miss the sound of the door opening somewhere in front of him, and heard the shout in Lydia's voice that said he was there. She always had been more aware of his spark than the others. Her and Scott. Even as he had the thought, familiar tanned hands were helping him up and he came face to face with Scott who looked both relieved and worried at the same time. The contradiction made Stiles laugh and then they were hugging and oh - he'd missed his best friend. Scott let go despite Stiles' noise of disappointment, but then the others were there and he couldn't help but laugh again as they piled in around him, and then before he could help himself the tears started. He felt him before he saw him and turned his gaze towards the forest, towards the black wolf padding out from between the trees.
"You were in New York." He managed, and the wolf turned into a man, turned into Derek, and he hadn't even noticed the others had stepped back until Derek was hugging him.
"You were scared of me, so I came back. I knew you'd come home." The words had Stiles stepping back and he looked over as Lydia took his hand, squeezing. He could see in her eyes that she understood what the others hadn't even realized yet. Then, all at once, he remembered, and he hated himself for forgetting.
"Dad-" and the syllable was choked off even as Lydia squeezed his hand tighter and Scott grasped his shoulder, tugging him back towards the house.