Hey! I hope you are all having a wonderful holiday season! Christmas, Hanukah, Kwanza, Winter Solstice – whatever your beliefs may be!

I've received a few questions that I think are important to answer. One of the most frequent questions I get asked is thus: WHAT DO YOU SHIP – STEREK OR STYDIA.

Now, I'm not a fan of Stalia, so I never even really have hints of that (nothing against Stalia shippers, but I just don't see the chemistry, personally, and don't like the circumstance of how they got together). As for Sterek vs. Stydia: Personally, I'm not a big shipper. I leantoward Stydia because I love the growth/arc that the two characters have.

I'd like to think I have secondary shipping of Sterek – in a bromance way. I don't romantically ship them, but I think they understand each other in a way that no one else on the show can because they've lived through similar experiences. Sterek fanfic writers (while I don't ship the two personally) are some of the BEST writers in the fandom, in my opinion. I love reading Sterek stories because often, they're really great quality.

As for this fic? I'd say there's no romantic slant, just a LOT of friendship. Why? 1) Romance is my weakest thing to write. I'm not a fan of writing it and I'm not very good at it. 2) I wanted it to be all about pack bonds and relationships, which is what I'm a fan of. But I LOVE ME SOME Sterek friendship. I really wish they'd interact more on the show.

Okay, starting another prompt, except this time: WATER! The suggested prompt was – using Dylan's aversion to water (and Stiles' implied fear due to his talk with Morell), a situation he has to use his powers, but no one can get to him. He panics and somehow expels the water from the area.

WATER.

It's not a secret that Stiles has a thing about water.

Scott's known since he was seven when Jackson pushed him into a lake and his best friend almost drowned. Because of all their family's medical problems, swimming lessons seemed low on the list of priorities and that error made itself known with a vengeance. Jackson – who'd had lessons since he was four and assumed everyone had some level of swimming proficiency – brought Stiles out in the middle of the lake on a raft, dumped him in, and then swam to shore.

It took him until he reached ground that Stiles never resurfaced.

By the time they reached him, his lips were blue, it took three resounding rounds of CPR to get the water out of his lungs, and Jackson officially was grounded for the rest of the summer. The two's friendship never recovered such a damaging blow to Jackson's ego.

That same day, Mr. Stilinski signed Stiles up for swimming lessons. It took two lessons to get him in the water. Two rounds of lessons to get him to a basic swimming standard.

Stiles never really spoke about what happened the day he almost died. But he remained coolly against water and swimming activities for as long as Scott can remember. The only explanation he ever received was that swimming and water makes him think of "darkness and cold." Well, "and Jackson, which make me want to throw up all over again."

It makes him feel even worse about the whole 'Kanima in the Pool' debacle.

So when they're standing at the edge of a lake with some sort of fae-sprite-beast-whatever (Stiles exclaims, "Fuck you Disney and your false advertising. FUCK. YOU.") that has a little girl wrapped in his claws hovering over the middle of the lake. Malia runs forward – Scott's going to have to have yet another talk with her about jumping into action too quickly – but stops when the claw curl tighter around the kids throat.

"God, stop Malia!" Stiles cries out, pulling her backwards. "There's a kid involved!"

Malia's eyes flash blue. "I thought the point was to kill that thing!"

"The point is to keep everyone alive!" Scott says, grabbing them both. "I just don't know…" he looks wildly at everyone, desperation seeping into his tone. "What do we do?"

He's met with silence.

"That wasn't a rhetorical question, I am actually asking for a suggestion!" Scott cries.

He knows it's not fair, but everyone looks to Stiles. Scott's even thinking of suggesting that this is one that he takes a pass on, sits out, but he knows Stiles would never go for it. He's looking at the lake like it's a puzzle he's trying to solve and fuck.

He can smell the fear. The only reason Stiles would be looking at the lake in fear is if he's about to suggest something really stupid. Stiles heart rate doubles, earning him some startled looks from the pack around him. "I've… got an idea." Stiles says, but it sounds like he's not entirely sure that's true itself.

"You don't sound that sure of your idea, Stiles." Scott says, knowing that whatever comes out of Stiles' mouth next, he's going to hate.

"That's because I'm not. Which means I'm not going to ask permission either."

Before Scott can figure out what Stiles actually said, Stiles walks up to the edge of the lake and says, "I'm not supernatural!" The creature doesn't move his hand around the kid's throat, but he doesn't let go either. Stiles must take that as a good thing because he pulls something out of his back pocket.

"Stiles, what are you doing?" Scott exclaims, but too afraid to rush the lake's edge. Malia takes a step closer and the creature squeezes the little girl, so he pulls her back so it'll relax its grip. It does.

Scott feels anxious and itchy. They're all waiting at the precipice of the lake as if a fight will break out at any second, but they can't do anything about it.

"It'll be okay," Stiles calls across the lake. Scott opens his mouth to respond – why the hell would he try to reassure him because that'll only make his panic worse – but then he realizes he's talking to the little girl. "Can you tell me your name?"

The little girl is sniffling. She's not openly sobbing which is something of a small miracle, but he can sense her fear from such a far distance, it's a little suffocating. She doesn't respond to him, so Stiles tries again. "I just need a name. Because we're going to be friends and I need to know my new friend's name."

"J-Justine."

"Okay," Stiles breathes, taking his flannel off carefully, eyeing the monster. "Okay Justine, thank you for telling me this. My name is Stiles."

That's when Scott realizes that he knows what Stiles is doing. At least, in regards to the little girl. His words are formulaic and warm – just like the Sheriff when he's trying to talk someone down. It's a technique in the police department, mainly for hostage situations.

Then goes his t-shirt. Stiles tosses it aside, revealing his myriad of tattoos. There's more than Scott remembers. Stiles rarely gets this exposed in front of him, some odd whisper of his old insecurities he thinks, but he's certain there are more tattoos than he last remembers. And if he's exposing his entire body, whatever he's planning on doing is probably going to be big.

Stiles' wiry hands reach out to the surface of the water, his fingertips brushing the placid lake. As he does so, the lines and swirls on his back start to glow. Scott hears Kira gasp behind him at the effect and he's having a hard time containing himself. They look like illuminated waves crashing against the shore. It's a weird feeling – being mesmerized by beauty and terror at the same time.

Then, a crackling sound resounds in the area and Scott realizes it's coming from the lake. The top of the waters ices over, swirling until the entire lake is sheeted in a blanket of white. "Okay," Stiles mutters, setting one foot on the ice.

"Stiles, what are you doing?" Scott exclaims, rushing forward, but Derek grabs his arm. Scott considers pitching Derek across the field, but doesn't when the creature gets more menacing.

"He doesn't view Stiles as a threat. He views us as a threat," Derek's whispers, his eyes never leaving where Stiles is carefully making his way closer to the creature. "We can rush it if it gets too dangerous, but for now, if we want to get that little girl out alive, we have to trust that Stiles can take care of it. It's a good plan."

"It is not a good plan." Scott says through gritted teeth, but he knows that he's kidding himself. It is a good plan. Well, any plan that endangers one of his friends – let alone, his own brother – is a terrible plan, but considering their options, it's probably their best bet.

So the pack stands helpless, watching as the most physically vulnerable member of the pack makes his way closer to whatever mangled hellion Beacon Hills managed to attract this time.

Stiles steadies himself as his feet slip across the slick ice, but he's close to the creature. "Okay, Justine. You've been so brave. So, so brave."

The creature eyes Stiles curiously, as though he's more intrigued than frightened, holding the girl closer to his chest. "We're almost out of here,"

"I still doesn't think it's a fae or a sprite," Derek says, his voice low. "I recognize the smell, but I have no idea what it is. It's not a fae or sprite. Even Deaton disagreed."

"Does it really matter what it is?" Liam asks, his voice a little shaky. Scott had been working with him to try and help him with the paralyzing fear that goes along with the Bite. "We can kill it and then figure out the semantics."

"It is important," Derek grumbles. "If we're wrong about what it is, it can affect their strengths and weaknesses. I don't think we should've confronted it until we had all the information."

"We didn't have much of a choice seeing as it kidnapped a child." Malia snaps. "We just need to rip his head off."

"You are such a Hale," Scott mutters, earning a scowl from both Hales in his pack.

Derek doesn't seem able to let it go. "But even the Sheriff said that no one called in a missing child. We don't even know who this child is."

"Again, why does that matter?" Malia exclaims, her whole body antsy and buzzing. "We just need to make sure that thing doesn't kill her and Stiles and we're just standing here."

"It's important," Derek murmurs, staring at the scene before him. "It's important."

Stiles reaches out, trying to gauge the creature's reaction. It doesn't seem to move, but neither does the child.

That's when he realizes the weeping had stopped.

Scott frowns. Something shifts and he doesn't know what it is. His hair stands on end and he knows the entire pack is holding their breath. Then something comes painfully obvious.

There's only two heartbeats coming from the lake.

"Stiles, get out of there!" Scott shouts, running to the edge of the lake. Derek seems to hear the same thing as he does, because the older man follows him to the edge. "Stiles, it's not real – Stiles RUN!"

Stiles looks up from where he is at Scott sprint toward the lake, then back to the creature. Then he realizes there's nothing in his claws. "Oh shit," he breathes, scrambling to his feet. "Fucking glamour!" He exclaims.

Scott sprints, preparing to run on the ice of the lake, but he's stopped. He tries to press further, but he can't. A shield is up over the lake and Scott slams his hands against it. "What the hell!" he cries, but makes a choking sound when he sees a smattering of black ash around the lake.

Mountain ash follows the edge of the lake, starting from the pocket of Stiles flannel. So that's what he was rummaging with. "Stiles, we can't get in!" Scott bellows, pounding his hand helplessly against the barrier. He tries using his Alpha powers against it, but it's to no avail. He knew Deaton must've taught him some things that would make him impervious to Scott's True Alpha qualities. "Stiles!"

But as Stiles tries to scramble away from the fucking siren (fucking sirens and their fucking glamour), it grabs his ankle and pulls him back. Stiles hands swipe against the ice, but he feels it melting underneath his fingertips. His Spark is slipping. The tattoos on his back start to fade and he feels his place in reality, his grounding, tumble beneath him.

"Stiles!" Scott cries, pressing as hard against the mountain ash barrier as he can. Tears start to form in his eyes, but he simply can't move his body forward. All these powers and super strength and he's stopped because of a mineral. "Stiles, please, break the line! Stiles!"

But Scott knows he doesn't hear him.

Scott looks up from where he's fruitlessly pressing his entire body weight against mountain ash line to see the siren grab Stiles' ankle.

Then the ice melts and they disappear within the unforgiving water.

"No!" Scott shouts, slamming his hand against the barrier. "No, Stiles!"

But of course there's no answer. Just still waters.

"Kira, call the Sheriff! Or Melissa! Someone – anyone – just someone human!" Derek commands from behind where Scott is, staring at the lake.

It's weird that it's so calm now. Before, when the ice was melting, the water was crashing around, initializing what felt like the end of something. Now the lake was quiet and empty, like it didn't just swallow his best friend whole.

"No," Scott whimpers, his legs giving out underneath him and suddenly he's on the ground.

His skin feels like it's on fire. Derek always said that losing a pack mate would be like losing a limb and he felt like that with Allison. But now? Now it feels like his entire body's on fire and there's no solace in sight.

Because, logically, he knows no one will get here in time.

Lydia walks closer to him, gently pressing her hand against the barrier. "I was kinda hoping it wouldn't affect me as a banshee." She says quietly, sitting next to Scott as if they weren't waiting for a human to arrive to pull their pack mate out of the water. In her hands is her phone, which has the stopwatch opened. Minutes are passing by. "Someone held their breath for twenty-two minutes." She says softly. "Twenty-two minutes, Scott."

It's fifteen when the Sheriff's car barrels up to the lake, a crazed-looking Sheriff swinging the door open. Much to Scott's surprised, his mother follows suit. "Were you, together?" Scott asks. It's totally inappropriate, but his brain may be short-circuiting at the moment.

The Sheriff runs up to the mountain ash line and swipes his hand across it.

When he does so, the entire lake explodes.

Well, sort of.

But it does shower everyone with water, expelling the water from the lake. Blinking water away from his eyes, Scott yelps and rushes into the lake – ignoring that it was entire drained and nearly washed everyone away because what – running until he sees the crumpled form of his best friend. The siren is nowhere to be found (because that would be Life gave them a break and they just don't have that sort of luck), but Scott stops in front of Stiles.

He's still and his lips are blue.

"Stiles!" Scott cries out, tears rolling down his cheeks.

His tattoos flicker until their nothing but black lines, the lively sea now washed away from them. Scott tilts his head back, links his fingers with one another, and then starts pressing. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight," he counts, then rests.

Other people are approaching them, but he barely acknowledges their presence.

His mom waves her hand at Scott because he's shaking and probably not the best person to be performing CPR – but he knows what to do, okay, he really does – and starts pressing forcefully against his sternum. The Sheriff crouches by Stiles' head, running his hands through his hair and whispering things that everyone hears but pretends they don't.

After the longest five minutes of Scott's life, Stiles coughs, spluttering an obscene amount of lake water with him. His eyes open for a mere second before fluttering back shut, but that one second was the only thing Scott needed.

"Let's get him to the hospital," Melissa orders, now in full-on Nurse Mode. "before the hypothermia gets to be a problem. I felt his ribs separate a bit with CPR, but I think he'll be okay. I'll feel better once I've done a thorough exam."

"Me too," the Sheriff gruffly says, wiping his hands under his eyes quickly.

Scott looks back to where the lake once was and shivers.

XXX

"You know when you're drowning you don't actually inhale until right before you black out. It's called voluntary apnea. It's like no matter how much you're freaking out, the instinct to not let any water in is so strong that you won't open your mouth until you feel like your head's exploding. Then when you finally do let it in, that's when it stops hurting. It's not scary anymore, it's… it's actually kind of peaceful."

Stiles wakes up to the sound of beeping and snores, which is nice and awful at the same time. He blinks a few times, wanting to say something, but it feels like someone decided to run sand paper down his throat, so all he manages is a pathetic squeak that would make a manatee jealous.

It does the trick, though.

Scott's eyes snap open and the smile that beams on his face is enough to make Stiles reciprocate. Well, as much as he can, feeling like he just danced with some sharks and the sharks decided he was more bait than a dance partner and what…? Stiles thinks whatever meds he's on may be fucking on his Adderall.

"You're awake," Scott breathes. "Oh my god, you are never allowed to do that again."

Stiles frowns. Everything's a little hazy and he knows he probably did a lot of stupid shit to land in the hospital and have an impromptu sleepover that included his dad, Derek, Kira, Lydia, Malia, and fuck, is that Liam? Little bastard was worried about him? "Wh'td I do?" He slurs, his eyes feeling a bit heavy.

"What'd you do?" Scott repeats, running his hands through his hair. "You ran across a lake with a siren."

"There w's a kid," Stiles, pieces of it coming back to him. "I h'd sav' 'im."

"You put a mountain ash barrier around the lake so we couldn't get to you!" Scott growls, his eyes flashing. Stiles is surprised that no one woke up at that, but now that he thinks about it, they probably did and are pretending to be asleep like good people. "Why'd you do that, Stiles? Why'd you put that up?"

"Was scared," he responds, unable to look Scott in the eye.

"You were scared?" Scott cries. "Scared? So you decided to scare the shit out of everyone else?"

Stiles' head is all mix-y and Scott's yelling at him and he doesn't know how to respond. "I knew I couldn' do all the lake for too lon'. So I 'ad to contain the Spark to a 'mall area. The only way to do it was with mountain ash."

Scott frowns, still angry, but lightening up. "What do you mean?"

Stiles tries to shift up on his elbows, but his entire screams in protest. He vaguely recalls the words 'separated rib cage' which must be hospital speak for 'injury that hurts like a motherfucking bitch.' He squeaks, but finally draws the courage to look at Scott. "You know I don't like water, dude. And I had to keep it frozen. But I didn't want the energy to go out onto the trees or air. So I confined it to the lake. I had to with mountain ash."

Scott sighs, slipping back into the chair next to him. "Never again." He snaps. "Never again unless we have another human present, okay? Never again."

Stiles nods. "Never again."

Stiles looks to the ceiling and he feel s drugs calling his name – why did his dad say so adamantly that drugs were bad because this was the shit – and he mutters, "I let the water in."

He can hear Scott shift in his chair. Stiles shuts his eyes. "I'm sorry, dude. I didn't mean to scare you. It was just so much and everything hurt and for a second I thought…" Stiles sighs. "It's just be easier to let it in. Just for a second. I didn't mean to actually… do it."

"You hate the water." Is the response.

"Yeah, water does trippy things to me, man."

"But you're still here." Scott says firmly at his side. "I think we can count that as a win."

"Yeah?" Stiles asks, lifting an eyebrow.

"Yeah."

It takes about five minutes, but everyone opens their eyes. Stiles only gets two slaps on the back of the head – courtesy of his father and Derek Hale – three hugs, and a lecture on water safety from Lydia Martin.

A/N: What'd you think? I think I need to do a happier one soon… lol. I was going to do a fluffy one next, but I got this prompt that I really liked. Happier times next…? I just have a lot of feelings.

I may continue this siren-thing for another chapter since I let the monster-of-the-week get away. Not sure how, though.

Let me know if you have any ideas! And please leave a note if you have the time! Much Love!