The one where Stiles learns Magic
Teen Wolf Fanfic
Pairings: Gen, Hints of Derek/Stiles, Scott/Allison
Setting: Takes place before the major events of 2x09
A/N: I don't have a beta, so any mistakes are my own. I also don't own Teen Wolf and all that jazz.

"Would you really ask him for me?" Stiles asked in a surprised and enthusiastic tone, just to make sure Scott wasn't pulling his leg or anything.

"It's not like I've been available that much anyways, I'm sure once I tell him your situation he'll be glad to offer you a job. Dr. Deaton kind of likes you anyways." Scott said, his fork stabbing at his cafeteria lunch and bringing a bite to his mouth.

"Awesome!" Stiles pumped his fist in the air, "I take it back; you're the best friend ever, even if you constantly ditch me to go running off with Allison." He grinned as he leaned over to take a fry off of Scott's plate and stuck it in his mouth, "Wait, he likes me? We've only met like a grand total of two times maybe? And even then we didn't talk much."

"I tell him stories," Scott smirked, and Stiles didn't like that look at all.

"Please tell me you don't tell him anything embarrassing about me, or I will go Chuck Norris all over your ass, werewolf or not."

Scott simple smiled and looked down at his food, shoving another forkful of macaroni salad into his mouth. Stiles simply pouted, but leaned over and stole another fry anyways.

"So Stiles, looking for a job I hear?"

"Yeah. I mean, with the whole my-dad-not-being-sheriff-anymore thing, I have to at least try and do something." Stiles shrugged and laughed awkwardly, but the fact that it was his fault that his dad was fired constantly rang in his head, a 24/7 reminder that he was always useless and getting in the way. He was standing in the back room the veterinarian hospital with Dr. Deaton.

"Well, with Scott's whole situation, he doesn't come around here as often as he used to, and I fully understand why, but I could really use some more help. I'd love it if you'd work her, Stiles." Dr. Deaton smiled warmly, and though Stiles always felt like something was off about him, he knew that he could trust him. Dr. Deaton had helped them with a lot of were-problems, after all. Stiles beamed back and nodded.

"So I got the job? And I don't even have to go through that whole awkward interview thing where you sternly stare me down and proceed to ask questions that I thought I was prepared for but actually wasn't? Great!"

"Well, I still have to train you a lot. So, since you're already here, let's waste no time."

"I got a job." Stiles said one day at dinner, to which his father looked up at him surprised.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I work for Dr. Deaton at the Vet's." His father smiled sadly at him, his hand holding his work resting against the side of his plate for a moment.

"Doesn't Scott work there?"

"Well yeah, but he's there maybe 2 or 3 days a week. He's got a lot of stuff going on. Dr. Deaton understands, and let me work with his the rest of the time." Stiles smiled, though it was timid, because his father was looking at him with a calculating gaze, abandoning his food for the moment. Stiles tried to preoccupy himself with shoving his face with fettuccini.

"That's nice of him."

There was silence; Stiles' fork scrapping against his plate was the only sound that could be heard, the clock ticking in the background.

"If this is about me losing my job Stiles, you don't have to feel obligated to—"

"It's not about that," Stiles interrupted before his father could finish, "I mean—yeah, it's kind of about that, but I'm tired of being useless all the time. I'm always getting in the way, I got you fired… I can't even help Scott with his problems. If I'm working with Dr. Deaton I feel like I'm actually doing something. Plus we could use the money." Stiles poked at the rest of the pasta on his plate.

"Stiles, you do more than enough. You took up a lot of the housework after your mother died, you get straight A's, on occasion you used to help me with cases. You're then best son anyone could ask for; this is just a minor setback."

Stiles wanted to believe him, but the constant reminder that his father's passion was taken away from him because of Stiles was there again, ringing in his head. He smiled reassuringly at his dad anyways.

"You should finish eating your dinner."

But later, when his father was in the kitchen and grabbing a bottle of wine, Stiles walked up to him and hugged him. He could feel his father falter in surprise, before hugging his son back, setting the bottle of wine on the counter. Stiles tightened his grip, and they stood there for a while, the bottle of wine forgotten.

Stiles closed the door leading to the backroom from the animal's room, and almost instantly the dogs quieted down.

"They can smell the others on you, probably," Dr. Deaton said, an amused smile on his lips, then again, when wasn't he smiling. Stiles laughed awkwardly, knowing that they probably smelled Derek all over him. The alpha had caught up with him today and slammed him against his Jeep, just so that he could ask where Scott was. He had pressed up against him in an attempt to intimidate him after Stiles had said something to piss him off, as always, and then when it was getting a little bit too awkward, Stiles pointed in the direction of the bike racks. Seriously, couldn't he just sniff him out with his wolfy-senses?

"I'll have to hose myself down every day before I get here," Stiles grinned.

"Not as bad as Scott when he first arrived; they eventually got used to him though," Dr. Deaton smiled from the other side of the examination table. There were various jars of different powders on it, and he motioned Stiles to come forward.

"What's this?" Stiles asked as he leaned his forearms on the table, looking down and examining the different jars.

"I was thinking it was about time I teach you a little something." Dr. Deaton opened one of the jars containing a bright orange powder, and tipped a tiny bit into his palm.

"About the animals?" Stiles asked to clarify, but when he spotted the jar of mountain ash on the table he had a feeling this didn't have anything to do with them.

"About magic."

And with a soft blow, the powder in his hand burst into flames.

"Aw man I forgot my pencil case," Stiles said one day when he was walking down the halls with Scott, rustling through his backpack. "Do you have an extra pen or something?"

"Sorry man, just the one," Scott answered apologetically as they walked into class and took a seat.

"Oh so you have a spare pen for Allison and not me? I see how it is." Stiles started to mock-complain, but their teacher walked in and Scott turned back to the front.

Later, when Mr. Harris was handing out a pop quiz, Scott turned to check on Stiles, but he had his pencil case on his desk and a pencil in his hand. Stiles caught his eye and grinned, quietly whispering that it was in the front pocket of his bag the whole time.

Scott raised an eyebrow but turned back to his quiz, not mentioning the fact that the front pocket Stiles bag wasn't that big.

"I can help!" Stiles complained as Derek and Scott manhandled him into an empty classroom. They were at the school late at night again, because a lone werewolf had tracked their scent here and had almost attacked a poor freshmen.

"No, you can't. I want you to stay here, where it's safe." Derek said sternly, his eyes locked with Stiles as he tried to scare him into submission, but everyone knew that never worked. Stiles looked at Scott for help, but Scott simply shook his head, agreeing with Derek.

"Yes, I can. I could—"

"I said no Stiles. Stay. Here." Derek growled before closing the door and locking it securely. Stiles bitterly remarked that he was the one that got the janitors keys in the first place, and he banged on the door and called them traitors.

Later, when the lone wolf had turned against Derek and Scott's offer to help, they had taken him out in the gym. Stiles appeared in the doorway, and Derek didn't ask how Stiles had gotten out of the room.

"I don't need the powder anymore." Stiles said to Dr. Deaton as he was taking out the jars again so that they could practice. He raised an eyebrow.

"Really? You learn fast." Dr. Deaton closed the cupboard again and walked over to Stiles.

"How can I do bigger things? I want to be able to help the pack, but they only see me as someone that needs protecting."

"You just need to keep practicing. Your imagination is the limit, Stiles. You just have to imagine, and believe."

Stiles nodded, looking around the room.

"I don't really help out much around here, do I? We're always working on this um… whole magic thing." He commented, waving his hands around in a big gesture at the word magic. He still thought it was a little weird, even weirder than the possibility of werewolves, but here he was, practicing magic.

"To be truthful Stiles, I didn't hire you to help around the place. Well, not much. I saw potential in you the first time I laid eyes on you."

Dr. Deaton smiled at Stiles, and for the first time, he felt a little out of place. He wasn't used to having so much responsibility on him now that he was hanging out with a bunch of werewolves who could apparently handle everything. But Dr. Deaton had seen that he had the potential to actually achieve something, and Stiles didn't know why, but he felt a sudden wave of emotion wash over him. He didn't feel powerless anymore.

"Thanks. For everything," Stiles said quietly, but sincerely, and Dr. Deaton wrapped an arm around his shoulder comfortingly.

A week after the lone wolf incident, a group of hunters came to town to visit the Argents. Scott said that upon closer inspection, they really did seem to be there just to visit the Argents, and not to, say, hunt down a pack of werewolves.

But looks were deceiving, and the pack had found themselves running through the woods, the hunters from out of town right on their tales. The werewolves could have ran off quickly if they weren't staying back to help the humans of the pack keep going.

When the hunters had cornered them, two groups on each side, they all huddled in the middle, the wolves instinctively standing in front of Stiles and Allison to protect them.

"Well, well, look what we have here; a whole bundle of werewolves!" One woman said as she got off her bike, a shotgun in her hand that was probably loaded with bullets full of wolfs bane. Derek growled at her, Erica and Boyd glaring at them from either side of him.

"I can't believe the Argents let you guys live for as long as you have out here; they're such a disgrace, calling themselves hunters. We sure taught them," The woman laughed, and a few others joined in with her.

Allison and Scott shot forward, angry scowls on their faces.

"What did you do to them?" Scott growled.

"Ah, little Allison is here. Anyways, it shouldn't matter what happened to them; you'll all soon be dead, too."

Derek roared as he shifted into his alpha form, and the rest of the pack also started shifting. The woman gave the signal, and the hunters began shooting at them, but the werewolves were already on the move. Boyd stayed in the center, looking after Stiles and Allison as the others went after the hunters.

Stiles was cheering on the werewolves loudly, his fist pumping into the air as the werewolves fought, Allison staying quiet beside him.

Stiles could hear groans coming from the werewolves, but he could tell from the way that they kept going on that the bullets they were being hit with weren't like the ones that the woman leading the hunter had.

He turned to look at said hunter just as she pulled the trigger on her shotgun, the barrel pointing towards Derek who was busy tearing apart another hunter. The bullet lunged straight into his shoulder and Derek let out a howl, falling to the ground and shifting back into his human form. The rest of the pack instantly turned their heads towards the hunter that shot him and, crazy with rage, went after her.

Stiles, in the meantime, ran over to Derek, falling to his knees to inspect the wound. It was in his left shoulder, and it was way closer to his heart than the shot to his arm was a while back. It would reach it way quicker. Derek could die.

"Allison!" Stiles yelled, his voice frantic, "Go after the others, and get the gun! We need another bullet like this one!"

She nodded and took off in a sprint.

"Derek, Derek, hey, hey, come on Derek," Stiles lightly slapped the alpha's cheek, and he got a groan in response.

"Hey, Derek, stay with me, come on man," Stiles kept slapping him as a nervous habit, his muscles moving on their own and he couldn't calm himself down.

"Stop… slapping me," Derek growled out, his eyes opened. Stiles pulled his hand back.

"Sorry. I'll stop now. Just stay awake. They're coming with the bullet, I'll fix this."

It felt like forever before Scott and Allison came rushing back. Scott had bit off the top with his teeth and then handed it to Stiles.

"Get his head up," Stiles said, and Scott helped pull his head up onto Stiles' lap. Stiles poured the wolfbane powder into his hand and, with a small blow and the image of fire in his mind, the powder lit up. It didn't burn his hand at all, despite Allison's protests, and he held his hand down under Derek's nose.

"Come on Derek, inhale it," He prompted, trying to remember what they did the last time. Oh right.

After Derek had inhaled some of the blue smoke that rose from the powder, Stiles apologized before rubbing the rest of the burnt wolfs bane into the wound, making Derek howl in pain and writhe around. Scott held him down as the cure worked, and the wound closed up. Derek collapsed again, breathing heavily.

"Thank god," Stiles said as he lowered his head and breathed a sigh of relief. When he raised his head again, the pack had reassembled and were all looking at Stiles.

"What?"

"Stiles, you…"

"I what?"

"Did you just use… magic?" Scott asked, his face a cross between surprised, confused and skeptical. He turned to look at the others, who were also looking at him.

"I um, Dr. Deaton might have taught me a few things…" Stiles admitted sheepishly with a shrug of his shoulders.

"I think Isaac and Erica might need some help," Allison said, their eyes turning towards the two who were supporting each other, and had bullet wounds in their legs. They couldn't heal until they got the bullets out, Stiles remembered, and he coughed.

"Come over here."

Scott, Allison, Derek and Stiles found themselves at the Argents house. Turns out they weren't killed by the other hunters, much to Allison's relief, but her mother and father were hurt badly and were sent to the hospital. Victoria had refused to say anything to them, but Chris had given them a heartfelt thank you for taking down the other hunters and protecting them.

While Scott was comforting Allison, Derek had come up to Stiles and coughed awkwardly to get his attention.

"What you did earlier. I wanted to thank you," Derek said in a low voice. Stiles grinned at him.

"Nah, it was nothing. We've done it before, and any of the others could have done it."

"But you were the one who did. I…" Derek paused shortly, gazing off to the side, "also wanted to apologize for what I said last week. You are a big help, and an important part of the pack, magic or not."

Derek smiled at Stiles, who smiled at him back, and when Derek raised a hand to pat him on the shoulder, Stiles misinterpreted it for a hug, and leaned forward to wrap his arms around Derek's waist. The werewolf was about to protest, but something about the way Stiles was clutching onto him like he was so happy that he had been able to do something, made him lower his arms and hug Stiles back.