Characters/Pairings: Pre-slash Spander
Rating: G/PG
Prompt: #11 Unexpected Baby
Warnings: AU, Some spoilers for Season 4/5 BtVS and Season 3/4 AtS
Summary: What if the monks had sent the Key to someone else?
Beta: The lovely Runa my RL beta and sounding board. Any remaining mistakes are mine.
A/N: Random thought that popped into my head one night. One-shot for now but possibly will be continued in the future.

“Xander!” The shrill yell cut through the darkness, startling both inhabitants of the room awake.

The brunet youth rolled off the bed, pausing briefly to look at his reluctant houseguest before trudging up the stairs. Sighing heavily, he pushed the basement door open and stepped into the kitchen, coming face to face with his semi-sober mother. She shoved a box into his hands and stomped over to the fridge, ignoring him now that her task was complete.

“What’s this?” Xander looked down at the box, puzzled to see his name on the label.

“Don’t know,” his mother shrugged. “Don’t really care. It came for you this morning.”

“Yeah, okay,” he muttered, heading back down to his room.

“And don’t forget the rent’s due next week,” she yelled after him.

“Yeah I know,” he shouted back, closing the door firmly.

He trekked down the stairs, flicking on the lights when he reached the bottom. Carefully, he placed the box on the bed, ignoring the muttering vampire tied to his recliner. A few moments of staring at the box and wonder who had sent it passed before Xander finally made any attempt to open it.

“Just open it already,” Spike snapped.

Xander glanced over at the vampire and rolled his eyes. “Not sure I should.”

“Bloody hell, open it!”

“Didn’t figure you for the curious type,” he mocked.

“Yeah, well there’s a lot about me you don’t know,” Spike said snidely. “Now open the box.”

“Fine.” Xander reached out and pulled the box closer, snapping the tape holding it shut. Gingerly he lifted the flaps and yelp as a flash of light filled the room. Blinking his vision clear, he could hear Spike swearing, but his attention was rivetted on the sheet of paper that had appeared in his hands.

To the victor goes the spoils
To the saviour goes the crown
To the servant goes the praise
To the father goes the child

Guard with trust
Remember well
Clouded minds will only see
That which we crafted
Only those closest to you
Will know the truth.

He read the words several times, trying to decipher their meaning. For once they weren’t totally cryptic, but that didn’t mean he understood them.

“Well, what’s it say?” Spike asked.

Xander read the letter to him, watching the curious look that descended on the vampire’s face. “Got an idea, Blondie?”

Before Spike could answer, another flash of light blinded them, bringing forth more curses from the visually enhanced vampire. When their sight came back, they got the shock of their lives. There on the bed where the box had been was a baby, arms and legs waving as it giggled and cooed.

**** **** **** **** ****

A hundred and twenty odd years on the Earth had given Spike a wide view of the world and all the things in it. Still, nothing prepared him to deal with the mystery presented to him and Harris. A baby, a girl by the pink blanket, and a sudden rush of knowledge that left him panting. Thoughts that weren’t his own, memories that he knew never happened flashed past, starting a pounding headache.

When the baby started to fuss, Spike looked over, noticing how at ease with the small child Harris was. The young man rocked her softly, murmuring soft words. Spike could only gape in shock.

“So I have a daughter,” Harris mused quietly, still staring down at the bundle in his arms.

“Looks like,” Spike finally managed to say. “Does fit the letter though.”


“Not so sure what most of the first part meant, but the last bit does fit. We’re the only ones who know about her. Everyone else thinks she’s just a baby that you knocked some girl up with,” Spike explained. “I guess we’re supposed to protect her.”

“But from what?” Harris asked plaintively. “All these new thoughts and strange memories of things that couldn’t have happened, but nothing about what we’re suppose to be protecting her from. How are we supposed to keep her safe if we don’t know the threat?”

Spike shrugged. “Dunno. What do you mean by strange memories?”

“I remember the woman they have as her mother, but I didn’t sleep with her. Hell, I didn’t have sex with any women on my trip,” the youth stated. “It’s just strange.”

“Yeah, well you’re not the only one with strange thoughts,” Spike growled. “Seems whoever sent her to you wants me to help you with her.”

“You don’t have to,” Harris said softly. “No one can make you.”

“No way you can do it on your own,” Spike countered.

The boy looked away, a red flush highlighting his cheeks. “Didn’t need to remind me.”

“Hell, not what I mean,” Spike sighed. “Untie me so we can have a proper conversation.”

Harris met his eyes, searching intently for Spike’s intentions before nodding and reaching over to tug on part of the rope. The knot slipped easily and the rope loosened around Spike, letting him get more comfortable.

“I’m not trying to come down on you,” started Spike, “but I don’t know how you managed to grow up a white hat in this house. It’s not the best place for a child.” The boy nodded. “So we need to look for some place else to live.”

“Problem with that,” Harris drawled. “My job doesn’t pay enough for me to live on, let alone two men and a baby who will need a lot of things.”

Spike tried not to fidget. “I might have some dosh I have access to,” he admitted.

“You have money and yet you’ve been mooching off us?”

“It’s not that easy to get at,” Spike defended himself. “Gotta talk to Peaches to get it, don’t I.”

“Shit, I’d rather starve than deal with Deadboy,” the boy said pulling a disgusted face.

“Same here,” Spike agreed. “But since I’ve been drafted to help I’m not gonna let her starve. That means talking to King Forehead.”

Harris snickered at the nickname, idly rocking the baby as he let Spike think. When she started to whimper he checked her diaper. Spike watched as the boy deftly changed her with the few supplies that had appeared, the sight spurring him to ask the question that had been bothering him.

“Where did you learn to take care of a whelp?”

**** **** **** **** ****

Xander looked over and gave the vampire a sad smile. “A friend of mine had a baby brother. Willow and I use to help take care of him.”

“Where’s this friend now?” Spike asked. “We could probably use the help.”

“Jesse’s dead,” Xander replied, his tone stating the subject was closed. “We’ll manage anyway.”

He ignored the looked on Spike’s face and started to softly sing to his daughter, watching as her eyes drooped closed. Once she was asleep he laid her down and piled pillows around her so she wouldn’t roll off the bed.

“You call Angel,” Xander directed. “While you’re doing that I’ll start looking for a better job and a place to stay.”

Xander wondered why he was including the vampire in his plans, but he knew deep down Spike was right. He couldn’t do it alone and he was willing to accept the vampire’s help. Something about the magic that brought his daughter to him urged him to trust Spike. He grabbed the paper he snatched on the way home and starting searching, hoping that there was something good in town.

As he read through the ads, he realized that the baby didn’t have a name. He thought for a moment before murmuring, “Dawn.”

“What?” Spike said, turning away from his own contemplation of the phone.

“Her name,” Xander said. “It’s Dawn Marie Harris.”

He watched Spike blink for a moment, processing that. “Not bad.”

“Aren’t you suppose to be doing something?” he asked, nodding at the phone.

“Yeah, yeah, give me a mo’,” the vampire muttered. Xander went back to the paper once the vampire started dialling.

“Small problem,” Spike said, hanging up the phone after a few minutes of arguing with Angel. “Peaches doesn’t believe me.”

“The spell didn’t affect him?”

“No, the spell got him too. He just doesn’t believe that I’m helping you.”

“Give me the phone,” Xander commanded. Raising an eyebrow Spike handed it over, watching Xander redial the number. “Cordy, put Deadboy on. What are you playing at Angel? . . . I don’t care. Technically he’s your family and that obligates you to help him. . . Yeah, well he’s helping me take care of Dawn. . . Even if he is doing it to get the chip out, he’s still helping! . . . Shut up and give him the money. . . Why? . . . Fine, we’ll be there tomorrow night.” Xander slammed the phone down and froze before turning to make sure he hadn’t woken Dawn.

“So I take it we have to go see him,” Spike said, sitting back down.

“Yeah,” Xander sighed, leaning back beside the mound of pillows and baby. “He thinks you have me in thrall or something.”

“He always was an idiot,” Spike groused. “Why we waiting until tomorrow night though? Still got time to get there tonight.”

“We are going shopping tonight,” Xander told him.


“Yep, we need to get more diapers, formula, clothes, a car seat and some toys for her,” he shrugged. “There’s a twenty four hour Walmart just outside of town. We can hit it tonight, sleep during the day and head out once the sun sets.”

“Sounds good,” the vampire agreed.

**** **** **** **** ****

Spike grumbled as Xander drove down the highway, barely going above speed limit. The young man refused to let him drive, stating Dawn’s well-being as the reason. Spike personally believe that the boy was just too afraid to be in the car with him behind the wheel.

The trip was made in relative silence, only broken by Spike turning to check on Dawn and whispering things to her. When they finally pulled into LA, the baby was sound asleep and so was Spike. He started when a warm hand nudged him and a glance to the side showed a grinning Xander.

“We’re here,” the young man said.

Spike got out of the car, stretching as Xander unhitched the baby carrier. “Here, I’ll take her,” he offered.

“Thanks,” Xander said as he passed Dawn over. “That thing is heavy.”

Together they stepped up to the doors, neither really wanting to enter the building. Finally Xander pushed forward, leading the way inside. Spike recognized the cheerleader and ex-watcher, but the other two humans and the gaudily dressed green demon were new. He was surprised to see so many people around his brooding GrandSire, he would have thought the souled vampire would avoid contact with others.

“Didn’t know we were having a get together. I would have brought snacks,” Xander snarked, making Spike grin.

“You’re willingly in the company of Spike,” Cordelia said. “Of course we’re all going to be here to make sure nothing funny is going on.”

“And how are we going to do that?” Spike snarled. He shuddered. “Don’t want any mojo being done on me.”

Angel stepped forward and glared at the blonde. “You don’t have a choice in the matter.”

“Yes he does,” Xander said softly but firmly. “And as much as the money would be nice, we don’t need this hassle. Come on Spike.” He turned to walk out, ignoring the startled look on the others’ faces at his defence of the blonde vampire.

“Wait a minute, cupcake,” the green demon interrupted. “No magic needs to be done. Just a bit of music.”

“What do you mean music?” Xander asked.

“And who the bloody hell are you anyway?” Spike growled. “And who are they?” he gestured to the two strangers.

“I’m Lorne. Over there is the lovely Winifred Burkle and the very handsome Charles Gunn,” Lorne introduced them. “And no magic is needed. All you have to do is sing a few verses for me and we’ll have our answers.”

“Sing?” Xander squeaked.

“Of course, sweet cheeks,” the green demon smiled. “I can read auras, futures and destinies when someone sings.”

Spike glanced at Xander, letting the younger man decided if they should go through it. Xander looked thoughtful for a moment then nodded and began to sing, surprising Spike with his song choice.

It’s all the same, only the names will change
Everyday it seems we’re wasting away
Another place where the faces are so cold
I’d drive all night just to get back home

I’m a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride
I’m wanted dead or alive
I’m a cowboy
Wanted dead or alive.

“That’s good,” Lorne stopped him, shaking his head as if to clear it.

“Well?” Angel demanded.

“I want the blonde stud muffin here to sing first,” Lorne told him. “And I want to talk to them alone after.”

“Fine,” Angel grumbled unhappily. “Sing Spike.”

The blonde glared at him, but a nudge from Xander had him singing softly.

Who are you to wave your finger?
Ya’ must have been out your head.
Eye hole deep in muddy waters.
You practically raised the dead.

Rob the grave, to snow the cradle.
Then burn the evidence down.
Soapbox, house of cards, and glass,
So don’t go tossin’ your stones around.

You must have been high.
You must have been high.
You must have been.

Foot in mouth, and head up asshole.
Whatcha talkin’ ’bout?
Difficult to dance ’round this one
’til you pull it out, boy!

**** **** **** **** ****

Xander snickered as he listened to the words, knowing full well that they were directed at Angel. Looking up he watched Lorne as Spike sang, noticing the glance the demon flicked at the sleeping baby. He met Lorne’s eyes when he looked over, nodding at the vibrant demon.

“Spike doesn’t have Xander under a spell,” Lorne assured Angel. “Now everyone out, I need to talk to these two.”

Grumbling, the five others headed into the office, leaving the three standing there. Xander continued to stare at Lorne, wondering just what he saw when they sang and what he knew about Dawn.

“Well, this is interesting,” Lorne started. “Do you two know what you have there in that little girl?”

“We figured she’s something special since she appeared by magic, but other than that, no,” Spike admitted.

“You have a very powerful artifact turned human,” Lorne said quietly. “A lot of people would kill to get their hands on her.”

“Why?” Xander asked, worried about the child he had come to love. He wouldn’t let anything happen to her and he knew Spike felt the same way. The spell only gave the memories of her, but she wormed her way into their hearts without magical help.

“She’s the Key. Original a green balls of powerful energy. Her blood can open dimensional portals if used properly. And once started the only way to stop it is for the blood to stop flowing” the demon answered. Xander and Spike both gasped at the implications of those words. “No one can know what she is.”

“So what do we do? How do we protect her?” Worry coloured Xander’s voice. He reached over and unbuckled her, cradling her small warm body against his chest as if that alone would protect her.

“You protect her by not going back to the Hellmouth. Demons that could and would use her would be drawn to her if you stayed there,” Angel said, coming out of the office.

“Should have known you’d eavesdrop,” Spike muttered, glaring at the older vampire.

“Couldn’t help it,” Angel shrugged. “You weren’t talking that quietly. The others didn’t hear though.”

“Where we going to live if we don’t go back there?” Xander asked. “How are we going to eat?”

“Stay here,” Angel offered. “We could use the extra muscle and research ability. Stay if only for her sake. She’ll be protected here with all of us. Plus she can play and grow with Connor.”

“Who’s Connor?”

“My son.”

**** **** **** **** ****

Spike laid Dawn down in the extra crib Angel had, watching as she pulled her toes to her mouth to chew on. He smiled down at her, letting the surprises he had received in the past two days fade in the face of a happy baby.

“Are you okay with this?” Xander asked as he sat down on the edge of the bed nearest the crib.

“With what? Staying here? I think so,” Spike replied with a shrug.

“You don’t have to stay,” Xander offered. “I mean, you don’t have to stay all the time if you don’t want to. You can come back and visit wit here anytime you want.”

The vampire was quiet for a moment considering the way to voice the feeling unfurling in his chest. He knew it wasn’t the spell making him feel this way. The feelings he had for Xander were new and he wasn’t sure how they’d be received or if they’d be returned.

“Not just staying for her,” Spike said softly. He looked over to see a wave of red rush over Xander’s face and felt a strange tugging in the region of his heart.

“Do you mean-?”

“Yeah, I mean,” he smirked.

Xander looked away for a moment before shooting the vampire a look full of uncertainty. “Really?”

“Of course, you are a nummy treat after all.”


Older story I decided to post. Enjoy

Songs Used:
*Wanted Dead or Alive – Bon Jovi
** The Pot – Tool (I so could see Spike singing this at Angel ^-^)

Evil Author Day – Sane Shane

Working Title: Sane Shane

Fandom: The Walking Dead

Pairings: Previous Rick/Lori, Shane/Lori, undecided future pairings

Rating: PG

Warnings: swearing?


“Were you fucking her before I got shot? Or is this a new development?”

The words were like a solid punch to his gut, knocking the breath from Shane’s lungs. He turned to stare at the man he considered his brother as the words rattled in the air between them. Rick’s face was blank and flat as the words he had uttered. Swallowing loudly, he thought about how to answer.

“It’s new,” he said slowly. “I think on her end she was just looking for something normal, or maybe tryin to fill some void left in her. I was just useful.”

Rick lost some of the blankness. “And you? What was it for you?”

“Originally? Stress relief,” Shane admitted. “It’s life and death out here and I’ll be honest, I just wanted to get off.”

“Originally? Something changed then.”

“I don’t know, man,” Shane said, folding in on himself and looking anywhere but at his best friend. “I’m not sure what changed. I love her, I love Carl. I thought she loved me.”

“But she doesn’t,” Rick replied ruthlessly.

“Hell, I’m not sure if she loves anyone other that Carl,” he snorted. “She’s a stone cold bitch.”

Rick laughed darkly. “She is. And it’s gotten worse.” He stopped walked and looked at Shane, eyes dark and serious. “I can’t do this without you, you know. I can’t keep us all alive without you. We’re stronger together, we always have been. We need to put all this shit behind us.”

“Can we? Is it possible?” Shane asked. He searched Rick’s expression for some sort of answer. “Is there a way back from this?”

“That depends on you,” Rick answered. “That depends on Lori too. And me. Carl and the baby are innocent, and the rest of the group don’t need to suffer from our fights. We got to stop dragging everyone into this. We need to get past this.”

“So what do we do?”

Rick was silent as they started moving again, always watchful for anything coming at them. “We both need to step back from her, and stop letting her make decisions.”

Shane snorted again. “She’s been pissing people off left and right.”

“She good at that,” Rick agreed. “We also need to convince Hershel to let us stay. This place can be safe and good for us. It’ll take some work to make things secure, but I think it’ll be worth it.”

“We need to convince him to get rid of the walkers in the barn first,” Shane remarked, turned to sight down his gun at a random sound. “That’s a danger we don’t need.”

“Yes, but you got to stop antagonizing him,” Rick told him. “We can’t get him to understand what they are if you keep getting his back up about it. We need to ease him into it.”

“With those things in the barn a stones toss from where we’re bedding down we might not have the time for that,” Shane pointed out. “it’s a big risk.”

Stiles Stilinski

Evil Author Day – Somewhere Safe

Working Title: Somewhere Safe

Fandom: Teen Wolf/Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel

Pairings: Some canon BtVS pairings, possible Stiles/Peter, still undecided

Rating: G currently


The van rumbled, a low sound that brought Stiles’ head up in concern. They had found the aging van on the side of the highway, the owners long gone. It had taken precious time to get the old vehicle working again, but in their current situation having a way of moving quickly was critical. Now, the ancient van was making sounds that worried Stiles. The rumbling, groaning sound was not good. Not good at all.


Glancing at Isaac in the driver’s seat, Stiles nodded. A moment later the van pulled over to the side of the road, the rumble louder as it idled.

“What’s up, guys?” Scott asked over the walkie-talkies as he pulled up behind them in a battered SUV. Moments later another van, this one a newer model came to a stop just to the side of the SUV and Derek peered out at them.

“Sounds like engine issues,” Isaac reported as Stiles took a moment to breathe before extending the wards he had on the van. He gave a quick check to the wards on the SUV and second van, then pushed the sliding door open. “Stiles is checking on it now.”

As Stiles slide out, Allison followed behind him, climbing onto the roof to take up watch. Two figures piled out of the other vehicles, one taking up watch atop that SUV while the second hurried over to help with the old van. Stiles nodded at Chris as the man settled into a good position to keep an eye out for trouble, then he moved aside to let Derek assist. Fixing the van thankfully didn’t take long, but the minutes that passed were nerve-racking. As far as they could see (and the wolves could hear) this particular stretch of highway was clear, but they were all aware that that could change in a heartbeat.

“Done,” Stiles called out as he dropped the hood shut and hustled back inside. Chris waved a hand in acknowledgement as Derek headed back to his van. Allison slid off the roof of the van and inside seconds before Stiles shut the door. “Let’s go,” he said to Isaac. “I don’t want to get caught out in the open like this.”

The van roared the life, the rumbling silenced, and they were back off down the empty road.


“Did Chris say how much further?” Lydia asked, leaning to peer between the front seats.

“If the highway stays clear, not that much. A day max, hopefully.” Isaac answered absently, keeping most of his attention of the road. There might not have been any moving cars but there was still plenty of hazards to worry about. He shot a quick look at Stiles who was asleep, slumped over in the passenger seat. “I’m hoping this really is a safe place. So far we’ve been shit out of luck.”

“Dad trusts this guy,” Allison piped up from the far back. She smiled when Isaac met her eyes in the rearview mirror. “Really trusts this guy. He says he’s one of the good guys all the way.”

“And this town? He say anything about it?” Lydia asked somewhat archly.

Isaac hid a wince at the tone, but he understood how the Banshee felt. Every so called safe place they’ve landed at had turned out to be anything but safe. The barely made it out of the last place alive, and definitely didn’t make it out without any injuries. Even werewolves could be overrun and taken out if the enemy had enough people, even if they lacked a Hunter’s specialized weapons.

“Not a whole lot,” Allison admitted, her voice quiet. “He’s been a bit closed mouth on that part.”

“I don’t like that,” replied Lydia. “We have no clue what we’re walking into. Hell, we don’t even know if that guy is there or not.”

“No, Dad did manage to get a call through when we went to get Jackson,” Allison told them. “His contact is still in the town.”

“But nothing else?” asked Isaac. He hoped there was more information. He agreed with Lydia that walking blind into the situation was a horrible idea. One that could get all of them dead. Walking into established towns and safe havens was sometimes the most dangerous thing to do. People were less tolerant of outsiders now than they were before the world took a nose dive.

“Sorry,” Allison said with a shrug.

“Do we at least have a name of the place?”

“Sunnydale, California.”


Stiles jolted awake as the van hit a dip in the road hard. He sat up with a groan, running a hand through his hair. “Where are we?”

“According to Chris, about three hours outside of town,” Lydia replied from the driver’s seat. “I sent Isaac to nap in the back with Allison.”

“I thought it was my turn to drive next?” he asked in confusion.

“It was, but you needed to sleep more than we needed you to drive,” she told him primly. “Besides, you are already doing so much to keep us safe that the rest of us decided to take over most of your shifts.”

“Lydia,” he ground out. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” she snapped, then sighed. “Seriously, Stiles, you are powering the wards around the cars. That is more important than driving or taking watch. And you’ve been exhausted lately.”

He slumped back against the seat and closed his eyes. She was right in some ways. Most of his energy was going towards the wards around the cars. the only reason he had managed to stay somewhat upright was that Peter was supplying a steady trickle of power to keep Stiles going. When they had decided it would be better to go out and collect their missing pack members instead of waiting around, Peter had pulled Stiles aside to discuss how to keep them all safe while crossing the country. After a bit of back and forth, Peter had brought out the idea of him supplementing Stiles’ power. the rest of the pack hadn’t liked the idea in the beginning, but now, months later, they all agreed that they would probably be long dead if Peter hadn’t helped.

“Fine,” he muttered. “Catch me up.”

“Well, we’ve made good time,” she replied. “As I said earlier, we’re a few hours outside of town. Derek and Scott shifted and are scouting ahead for any trouble.”

“Are they still being ignored?”

“Yes, and it’s still freaky,” she said with a shudder. “They can run right past and nothing.”

“It works for us,” he pointed out.

“It would work better if we could figure out how to get all the wolves to full shift,” she amended.

“Yeah, but they haven’t been able to yet. Peter said it’s only something that runs in certain bloodlines, but I call bullshit since Scott managed it.”

“Scott is a True Alpha, though.”

There was something about the tone of Lydia’s voice that made Stiles wince. Something about the whole *True Alpha* situation didn’t sit right with either of them. Granted, Scott did make a somewhat decent Alpha, but he definitely wasn’t something special. All the research Stiles had done on True Alpha’s pointed to more of a gap fill than some *Super Wolf*. Scott had become a better Alpha after they had managed to get him more in touch with his furry side, and he was a far better Alpha than Derek had been, but Stiles couldn’t help but wonder if there was someone who be a greater leader for them.

“I take everything Peter says with a fucking salt mine,” Stiles snorted. “I know we can’t trust him.”

Lydia was silent for several minutes. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this but I think we *can* trust him.” She lifted a hand off the steering wheel at his shock. “Peter puts himself before everyone else, we know this. He also has a metric tonne of knowledge in that head of his and he’s dangerous as hell, but even he knows he wouldn’t make it on his own out there. Sticking with us is his best chance, so he’ll toe the line.”

“Until something better comes up,” pointed out Stiles. Lydia nodded her head in agreement. Stiles looked back at the too still form lying in the back. “How is he anyway?”

“Still breathing,” Lydia responded with a careless shrug. “As far as we can tell he’s only asleep. Derek said it looks lighter than when he was in a coma, but deeper than regular sleep.”

“I think I might have pulled too much last time,” Stiles admitted. He could remember the feeling of power, energy flooding out of Peter and into him, which he then channeled into powerful spells set around the cars. He had nearly fallen to his knees as he set the wards. Peter <i>had</i> collapsed, like a puppet with its strings cut. They had tried to put him in the far van with the others, but the further away from Stles he got, the weaker both of them became. After several long arguments, it was decided to was smarter to keep them together, and since stiles needed to stay in the lead vechile, that’s were Peter was put.

“Go back to sleep, Stiles,” Lydia commanded. “I’ll wake you when we’re closer to town.”

He considered fighting, but it wasn’t worth it. The effort of keeping the wards up weighed on him, even with the study supply of energy from Peter. Closing his eyes, he curled up and let himself drift off into a light sleep.


“What the fuck is that?”

The three cars pulled to a stop to stare at the maze of cars and rubble that covered as far as the eye could see. There was a path large enough to fit their vehicles through, but barely. It would be slow going, something that none of them liked the idea of, but it was the only way into town that they knew of to get in.

“Let’s go,” Scott said firmly, heading back to the SUV. “It’s not safe out here.”

Nods answered him and they all piled back into the cars. Isaac slid back into the driver’s seat and Allison took the shotgun position, a high power rifle in her hands. Stiles knew if he looked back he would see Chris in a similar position to his daughter and Stiles’ father was in the furthest car with another rifle, all three ready and waiting for any trouble. Stiles had moved into position in the middle of the back of the van, power crackling under his skin. He would do what he had to to protect his pack.

They made their way slowly through the piles of cars, broken concrete, and what looked like chunks of buildings. Worry about possible ambushes pushed at all of them and all the wolves had their hearing pressed to the max in hopes of being alerted to danger before it happened.

“We’re being watched,” Isaac said, breaking the heavy silence. “We have been since we entered this mess.”

“How many?” Allison asked, eyes scanning for the watchers.

“I don’t know,” Isaac admitted. “I can feel them. Can’t you?”

“I can,” Lydia spoke up from the backseat. “And there’s something strange, something I can almost touch.”

“Power,” Peter said, startling them all.

“Peter?” Stiles questioned softly, turning to look down at the older wolf.

Peter was still lying on the thin mattress pad they had found, his eyes dull and his face grey with exhaustion, but somehow he still managed to find a way to smirk at Stiles. “There’s power, intelligent power, overlaying everything. Can’t you feel it?”

Not that he wanted to admit it, but Stiles could feel it. The power seemed to probe at them, taken stock of who they were. It didn’t seem malicious, only watchful. He wondered if it was anything like the spells he had on the cars. Obviously it was stronger than anything he had cast, but it did have an oddly familiar flavour to it. Scowling, he nodded at Peter.

“Help me up?” the prone man asked, lifting an arm in supplication.

Wrinkling his nose is annoyance, Stiles grasped Peter’s hand and yanked, pulling the wolf into an upright position.

“Thank you,” Peter murmured, pushing to his knees with a little more help from Stiles. “I ache all over.”

“Sorry,” Stiles said, feeling red steal over his face. “I think that was my fault.”

Shrewd eyes assessed him for a moment. “Did it keep us safe? Are we all still alive and well?”

Stiles blinked. “Yes.”

“Then there is nothing to be sorry for,” Peter told him. “I knew the risks when I made the offer. Hell, I knew them more than you did. Letting you siphon power off me was the only way to keep us safe.”

Sighing, Stiles slumped a little. “Still sorry.”

Peter laughed. “You can make it up to me at a later date,” he leered.

“Creeper Wolf,” Stiles muttered, but he didn’t move as Peter leaned against him, exhaustion evident in every line of his body. “Do you know anything about a town called Sunnydale? It’s where Chris has us headed.”

Tension filled the frame slumped against him and Stiles looked down to meet bright blue eyes. The grey of exhaustion had been replaced by white shock. Peter opened to his mouth, then shut it after a second. “We’re going to Sunnydale?” he finally managed to say.

“Yeah, we’re almost there,” Stiles answered, shifting a little to let Peter rest heavier against him. “He supposedly knows someone there, he checked in when we were picking up Jackson.”

“Hand me the radio,” Peter commanded, reaching out one hand.

Lydia stared at him searchingly for a moment before she dropped the walkie talkie in his hand. “This better be good, we’re in the middle of some junkyard maze.”

“It is,” Peter murmured before toggling the radio. “Everyone pull over, I need to speak with Chris.”

Protest crackled over the line. “We’re not stopping,” Scott stated. “We’re almost there.”

“Pull over now.” The words were growled out slowly and in the shadows of the back of the van,Peter’s eyes glowed brightly. “It wasn’t a request.”

“You’re not the Alpha, Peter,” Scott scolded.

Stiles hid a smirk as Lydia laughed out right at the expression of disgust on Peter’s face. He plucked the radio out of the wolf’s hand. “I think this might be a bit important.”

The sigh that echoed down the line was loud and deep. “Fine.”

Moments later all three vehicles were stopped in the little space that path through the maze left. Stiles helped Peter as they climbed out of the van, keeping a hand on the wolf to keep him steady. When he looked up, a scowling Chris Argent was barreling down on them as Allison, Derek, and Kira took up watch.

“What do you want?” Chris snarled as he stopped in front of them.

“Who do you know in Sunnydale?”

“An aquaintence that I met a few years back,” the hunter answered.

“Does he have anything to do with *her*?” Peter asked intently.

“Yes,” Chris replied slowly. “You know?”

“I read a lot and I re-established a lot of my old contacts after my coma,” remarked Peter as he glanced around them with a worried expression. “Why haven’t you told them everything?” He paused. “Are you leading us into a trap?”

Chris reared back in shock, his eyes wide. “No!” He ran a hand over his face before continuing. “Yes, Wes is one of them. Or he was. He was fired and decded to roam around the country being a Hunter.”

“You’re bringing us to a Hunter?” Scott interrupted, red flooding his eyes. “Is this a trap?”

“Look, Wes tried to be a Hunter, but he wasn’t really cut out for the job,” Chris said with a sigh. “He ended up in LA working with a PI there before the world went to hell. He’s a good guy.”

Lydia stepped between them, glaring both into silence. “Maybe Chris should tell us about this Wes and Sunnydale.” She glared harder. “Everything you know. Peter too.”


Content Rating: R

Warning(s):  Abuse-Child, Character Bashing, Death-Major Character, Discussion-Child Abuse, Discussion-Rape, Drug Use, Dubious Consent

Genre(s): Challenge Response, Drama, Established Relationship, Fix It, Future Fic, Het, Hurt/Comfort, Slash

Relationship(s): Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, Ginny Weasley/Other Character(TBD)

Word Count: 1425/2810

Author’s Note: Additional warnings: Off-screen, non-consensual potioning; off-screen child abuse; past Major character death; sorry for all the genres

Summary: Ginny Potter-Black wakes up with a clarity of thought and realizes that much of the last 13 years of her life has been a lie.


Harry Potter-Black
Daniel Radcliffe

Ginny Potter-Black
Bonnie Wright

Ginevra Potter-Black nee Weasley woke up clear-headed.  This shouldn’t have been a surprise considering she was a morning person, but as she lay there revelling in the clarity, she realized it had been years since her thoughts were unclouded.  Searching back in her memory, Ginny dimly remembered that the last time she had clarity of thought was the Yule before her first year, when she was 10 years old.  Her mind had been foggy for over 13 years and she hadn’t noticed.

A rush of anger surged in her heart, but she pushed it away, instead focussing on tracing the facts.  The first fact being, of course, that someone had been distorting her memory and thinking for over a decade.  The second fact being that only a few people in her life where capable of doing so, and even less had been in position to accomplish it.

The only fact she couldn’t figure out was how.  Hexes were a possibility.  Ginny spent hours with her team, in crowds in Diagon Alley, with her family.  There were so many places she could have been hexed.  A cursed artifact was another way, but Ginny didn’t wear much in the way of jewelry and nothing she had worn as a child had made it to adulthood.  That left the most likely way: potions.  Of course, that meant the suspect list was both smaller and larger.

She bit back the scream that built in her chest.

The bed moved shifted slightly, startling Ginny out of her thoughts.  Turning her head, she met vibrant green eyes that watched her intently.

“You know,” she whispered into silence.


“How long?”  Only a fierce grip on her temper kept her voice level.

“About a week,” Harry answered, moving to sit up.

Ginny pushed herself upward and shifted back to lean against the headboard.  A week.  Her husband had known she was living under a potion for a week.  She glared at him.

“How did you find out?”

Harry raked his hands through his hair, making already sleep messed strands stand further on end.  “Turns out there’s some non-human blood in the Potter line.”

Ginny rolled her eyes.  “Everyone knows that,” she scoffed.  “Most pureblood families have a Magical Creature somewhere in their lineage.”

“Yes, but most of those families don’t have to worry about have a power surge that activates said Creature blood,” he replied drily.

“Activates?” She paused, pulling her thoughts together.  “What type of creature?  Please tell me not a vampire.  Bloodborn Vampires are the worst to deal with.”

“And if I was?” he asked, green eyes flashing.

“I really don’t know,” she admitted.  “Everything is up in the air right now.”  She shook her head. “Just tell me.”

Harry took a deep breath.  “Dragon.”

She had to have heard the wrong.  There was no way Harry had Dragon blood.  Dragon Kin had gone extinct centuries ago, many hunted down, the rest suiciding rather than living under wizard rule.

Yet, the possibility was there.  There were so many ways Harry was like a Dragon.  He was possessive and fiercely protective of those he considered family.  His temper was slow to rise but burned hot and long once he was roused.


She glanced over and smiled softly.  “How did you figure it out?  All of it.”

“Well, for the creature blood, it was at work.  I can’t actually say what I was doing, but let’s just say I had a bit of a magic surge and bam woke up the Dragon,” he said, miming and explosion.  “I ended up in a time bubble under Gringotts to learn to handle it.  The blood burned out all potions in my system.  The Goblin healer told me that most Wizarding potions won’t work on me now.  My Dragon side will overwhelm and burn them out every time.”

“What about if you get hurt?” she cried out, a spike of fear lancing through her.  “How will they treat you?”

He smiled at her.  “Surprisingly, Goblin made potions will work.”  He made a face. “They taste worse than the normal ones.”

“I didn’t think that was possible,” she laughed.

“Neither did I,” Harry admitted.  He sobered.  “When I woke up after the remains of the potions were gone, I noticed a vast difference in how I felt, how I acted.  Ironhand had taken samples of everything my system got rid of and tested them.  I had dozens of potions in my body.  Compulsion, love, lust, memory.  The Healer was surprised I was managing to function at all.”

“Am me?  How did you find out I was potioned too?”

“I watched,” he said quietly.  “I noticed you acting like I remembered I had.  The way you’d stop as if you were about to do something but you couldn’t, something else was stopping you.  When you cut yourself in the kitchen the other night I took a sample and had them test it.”

“The same potions?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

“Not all of them, but many of the same.  Compulsion, love, lust, more memories potions than I had,” he told her.  “And accordin to the Ironhand, you had been under their influence longer than I was.”

“Since I was 10,” she whispered.

Harry nodded.  “I planned to ask you if you wanted to go to a retreat with me.  One of the packages has a Cleanse on it.  If figured we go and come back potion-free.”

“After that?” Ginny wondered. “What if I had been in on it all the long?”

“Considering the number of potions you were under, I figured it was safe to assume you weren’t part of it but another victim too,” he told her, reaching out to pick up one of the hand closest to him.  His hand was warm, wrapped around hers, a steadying influence.  “Seems like I was right.”

She laughed a soft broken sound. “I’m scared, Harry.  So scared.  We don’t know who did this, or why.  We don’t even know how or when!”  She blinked back tears.  “You might be immune to those potions now, but I’m not.  I can end up back in that foggy world at any time and I wouldn’t even know it!”

Harry let go of her hand, and for a second all Ginny could feel was cold.  Then warm hands were pulling her against his body, tugging so she was sitting in his lap.  He said nothing as he held her, rocking slightly, and to Ginny’s horror, she began crying.  Burying her face against Harry’s neck, she sobbed out the terror, grief, and betrayal that infested her heart.

“Better now?” The question was asked softly, barely a whisper against her hair.

“Not really,” she whispered back.

“Oh?  The crying didn’t help?”

Ginny thought about it.  The tears had helped purge some of the emotions welling up in her, but there was still a mass of anger and grief seething in her soul.  “Some, but not enough.”

“Talk to me, Gin.”  Harry pushed her back enough to look into her eyes.  “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I’m stuck on the who,” she admitted, dropping her hand back to his shoulder.  “Given when I was first dosed, there isn’t a lot of choice.”

“Arthur or Molly,” Harry said, speaking the names that blocked her throat.

“Yes,” she said with a sigh.

“Truthfully I can’t image Arthur potioning someone,” Harry added.  “Potions don’t seem like his type of thing.”

“But they are Mom’s.”  Groaning, Ginny pushed herself up to a seated postion.  Not many know it, but Mom was working towards a Mastery in Potions when she got pregnant with Bill.  Several different Potion Masters have offered to help her finish, even now, but she keeps turning them down.”

“Why?” Harry looked confused. “There is so much the world can offer if you have a Mastery, especially in something like Potions.”

“I asked once.  She told me that she didn’t need the pomp of it, she had her family and she was happy to be where she was.”  A thought crossed her mind.  “Have you checked any of the others for potions?”

“Not yet?  Should I?”

“Check for hexes, curses, and potions for all the family,” she said intently.  “I’m starting to think there’s something more going on here.”

Harry wrapped his arms tighter around her, surrounding her in the feel and scent of him. Ginny curled into the safety of his embrace, wondering if that was a manufactured feeling as well.

“I feel lost,” she said quietly after a few moments. “Everything has been a lie.”

“Not everything,” Harry countered, then he sighed. “But a lot has been, yes.”

“The foundation of our marriage, our life together is a lie,” Ginny replied. “Where do we go from here?”

Harry slumped a bit, falling into himself in a way Ginny had not seen since they were younger. He seemed smaller, younger and less sure of himself. She hated that; hated seeing him like that. The last time he had looked small had been during the height of the war when everything had been at its worst. Exhaustion and pain had dragged at all of them, drawing on what little strength they had had until there was almost nothing left.
This was almost as bad.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’m just as lost as you are.”

A loud rumbling sound from her stomach broke the silence that had descended over the room and they both laughed.

“Well, not everything has changed,” she said with a giggle as she slid from his lap. “Let’s get something to eat and make a game plan.”

“There’s my Quidditch Captain,” he remarked, pulling on a lock of her hair.

She pushed him off the bed, laughing as she launched herself off it as well and ran from the room. A small bit of wandless magic had her disillusioned as she heard the thump of him hitting the floor followed by muted swearing. The slap of bare feet let Ginny know that he was right behind her and she ducked the usual tickle jinx that Harry sent in her general direction. Slowing slightly, she eased down the stairs, skipping past the creaky steps. There was no sound behind her now and she bit back a giggle. Harry had put all his training to use again and was invisible and totally silent. Until he took the spells off she wouldn’t be able to see or hear him. Some people would think she was crazy, but she loved playing like this with Harry. Just the two of them acting like children and chasing each other around the house. She was almost at the kitchen and therefore safe so she picked up her pace. Full out running she slid down the hall and into the kitchen, nearly taking out Winky at the stove. Harry’s invisible form almost crashed into both of them a second later. The spells dropped as Harry wrapped one arm around Ginny’s waist and reached out a hand to catch Winky’s shoulder to keep them upright.

“Master and Misses not be running in the house,” Winky scolded, hands on her hips as she played her part in their little game, “or they be getting no breakfast.”

“Sorry, Winky,” they both responded, ducking their heads, chastised. Ginny could see Winky glaring at them out of the corner of her eye.

“Silly Wizards and Witches,” the house-elf muttered. “Sit and eat, Misses Mother Wheezy says both of you too skinny and need to eat more.”

Ginny flinched at the mention of her mother, the good mood they had just built crashing down. The slight motion caught Winky’s attention and the house-elf’s already wide eyes grew larger as she looked at them.

“Oh,” Winky whispered. She reached out to touch Ginny’s hand. “They be gones.”

“Winky?” Harry called softly, letting go of Ginny to kneel in front of the elf. “What is gone?”

“The bad things,” she answered. She trembled. “So many bad things. I tries to make them go away but I not being strong enough. I tells you but you no remember the next day. I be sorry.” She started crying.

“It’s not your fault, Winky,” Ginny told her, lowering herself to the floor. She pulled the house-elf into a hug. “But we need you to tell us about every time you tried to make them go away and each time you told us, okay.”

Winky nodded, materializing a handkerchief. “I can be doing that.” She paused. “But after Master and Misses be eating.”

Ginny gave a shaky laugh as she let Winky go. “Of course, can’t have us waste away.”


Breakfast was quieter than normal after Winky’s revelation. Their usual chatter about their days was absent as both were lost in thought. As she ate and tried to corral her thoughts, Ginny watched her husband pick at his breakfast, a sure sign of just how upset he was. Even after all these years, the abuse and neglect of his childhood still manifested in Harry’s behavour, usually his eating habits. When he was stressed he would skip meals, punishing and pushing the limits of his already too thin body.

“Eat, Harry, before Winky notices.”

He stuck his tongue out at her. “I’m trying. It’s just that my new shiny magics are calling for more meat.”

“Have you let her know yet so she can change what she makes for you?” Ginny asked.

“Not yet,” he said putting his fork down. “I’m not sure we aren’t being watched. If Winky started buying vastly different foods whoever is behind this will know something has changed.”

She took a bite of food and thought as she chewed. Finding out who had been dosing them was going to be tricking and would call for being subtle and not rushing in. They were going to have to act like Slytherin’s instead of Gryffindor’s, which was fine with her, but she wasn’t sure how Harry would feel about it.

“What are you thinking, Ginny?” Harry asked after a few minutes of silence.

“That we should act like the Sorting Hat’s first choice for us,” she answered truthfully.

He stared at her for a moment and then started laughing. “It wanted to put you in Slytherin too?”

“Yep,” she said with a grin. “But Weasley’s are always Gryffindor or Hufflepuff so I argued.”

“I have no problem with acting like a snake,” he told her. “I let go of that a long time ago, Gin. What are you thinking?”

“Well, food is easy enough,” she started. “My team is out of the running for the World Cup and our pitch is going through major renovations of all practices are going to be cancelled as of next week. If we tell the family that I’m pregnant, or that I’m trying to get pregnant, we can get away with changing what we eat.”

“Yes, but a lot of what was used on us is dangerous for pregnant women, we can’t guarantee what they’ll do if we say that,” he countered. “How about this: Andromeda has a conference she wants to go to, she asked yesterday if we could watch Teddy for the week.”

Ginny grinned. “And he’s got a massive appetite, especially for meat. That would definitely work.” She took another bite then pointed her fork at him. “Eat.”

Huffing, Harry picked his fork up and ate some, chewing slowly. “With you being home more you’ll be alone and therefore easier to dose.”

“Teddy will be here, though,” she replied. “And Winky.”

“He’s 10,” Harry snorted, “there’s not much he can do, but Winky might be able to at least catch the person in the act if it comes to that.” He sighed. “I’m hoping it doesn’t come to that.”

“Me too.” She finished her plate and pushed it away as another thought came to her. “Harry, how many people actually know what your job is?”

“Not many,” he answered. “You, my partner, and our director. Though I’m pretty sure Hermione’s figured it out and I think Percy might know.”


“We had a conversation that last family dinner about technicalities,” Harry replied with a shrug.


“Well, everyone thinks I’m a researcher, correct?” He waited for her nodded. “Technically, they’re right. Unspeakables fall under the Department of Research and are classified as researchers. It’s so if we’re dosed with veritaserum we can say we’re researchers and we won’t be lying.” He paused. “Also, they do make us do the work.”

“Huh, that means there’s no way for anyone to know that we’re no longer under their control,” she said slowly. “That means we’ll have to still act like we are or else they’ll catch on.”

“Yeah, I know,” he agreed with a nod. “This won’t be easy.”

“When has anything ever been easy for us”

How Harry Potter Became an UnSpeakable – TBA

Her End

Title: Her End
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Characters: Laura Hale, Peter Hale
Rating: G/PG
Summary: Laura makes a choice at her end.


She was dying. She could feel it as her life slowly away, her blood pooling on the ground beneath her. Truthfully, she was surprised she was still alive at all. The hunter’s sword has sliced easily through her, severing her lower body. It was only a matter of minutes into be leaving her brother and uncle alone in the world.

A howl in the distance brought her attention away from her dying body back to the real world. The mournful sound familiar, as known to her as her own howl. She watched as the undergrowth parted and a dark figure appeared, eyes glowing electric blue dark.

“Peter,” she whispered, her voice barely a crack of sound.

“Laura,” Peter murmured as he moved closer dropping to his knees beside her. “I see you finally come back to Beacon Hills.”

“Yes,” Laura replied, reaching out one hand to touch him.

“Are you here, Laura?”

She sighed, her breath heavy in her chest. “I’m here for you, Peter. I’ve been back several times, but you are safer here under an assumed name than with me and Derek.” She grabbed his hand, squeezing with what was left of her strength. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

The large, warm hand drifted over her hair, soothing her. “Where is Derek, Laura?”

“Still in New York if he’s smart,” she laughed breathlessly. “But this is Der we’re talking about.”

“So, he’ll be here soon then,” Peter remarked. “What do you want me to do, Laura? You don’t have that much longer.”

“Do it,” she managed to whisper the last of her strength draining away. “If I just die there is no guarantee where the power will go. I want the Hale power to stay with the Hale family. Do it.”

Bright blue eyes closed briefly as Peter seemed to wrestle with the decision. He opened his eyes and nodded, shifting into beta form.” I love you, Laura.”

She smiled. “I love you too, Uncle Peter.”

Sharp teeth closed around her throat, but she felt nothing, all sensation in her body had already faded away. Instead there was nothing but relief, Peter would do what he needed to do. The Hale family would survive.

Unnamed Creature!Stiles

I meant to post this for Evil Author  Day, but this Evil Author forgot.  Here it is now.

Title: None Yet
Fandom: Teen WolfPairing: Stiles/Peter
Rating: Eventual NC17, G this post

There were many things that could be said about one Peter L. Hale, and most of them weren’t positive. He was manipulative and had been since he was a child. He was often cruel and could be vicious when defending his Pack, something Talia had used to the Pack’s benefit many times. His thoughts often fell on the darker side of the spectrum and he was always ready to see the worst in anyone he came across. These traits made him perfect to be his sister’s Left Hand, the Pack Enforcer and it was a role he had loved. After the fire, after the pain of feeling bond after bond break, after the agony of wounds that refused to heal, after the coma where the images of his family burning played over and over again, after that the things that could be said about Peter became worse, darker. He was a murderer, violence made casual. His cruelty cut deeper. And, to top it all off, he was far from sane and balanced.

The one thing that could not be said about Peter was that he was unobservant.


It started with a feather.  Larger than his hand, so black that it shone shifting blues, purples, and greens in light.  It was soft and light in Peter’s hand and left his fingers tingling with residual energy.  This was no ordinary feather.

The oddity of it called for research, and normally Peter would tap Stiles and Lydia into any project, but something about the feather made Peter keep it secret.  He hid the feather in his apartment, in a specially spelled box that he kept hidden in his bedroom.

It took two weeks for him to find anything that sounded remotely similar to the feather. He had found the book buried in the ruins of the old house, the pages scorched in places, the cover a blackened mess.  Waiting until the Pack was off at school, he pulled the book out and reread what he had found. The passage spoke of the creature-part man part avian with great black wings.  Supposedly it was a creature of pure magic that hid from the world.  Hiding Peter could understand.  Anything that was pure magic was at risk of being used to for that power.  The book stated that the creature was dangerous and a bit of trickster, often tricking and trapping unsuspecting victims.  Nothing was said about what happened to said victims and personally, Peter thought they were probably hunters to begin with.  Oddly, there was no name for the creature and only a vague description of pale skin, large eyes, and huge wings.
He pushed the book away.  This was a curious situation.  The creature obviously was real, was currently in Beacon Hills, and had been near the Pack quite recently.  The protective part of Peter, the left over of being the Enforcer, howled for him to hunt down the interloper and tear out its throat.  The slightly more reasonable part of him sat back and thought.  He would watch for now.  Perhaps the creature would show itself.




“You’ve been stranger than normal,” remarked Lydia Martin as she dropped into the seat beside Peter.

He quirked an eyebrow.  “Really?  You pay that much attention to me?”

“You’re a murdering psychopath that once bit me and caused my latent Banshee genetics to activate, of course I pay attention to you,” she replied.  “Besides, I have a bet with Stiles on how long it will take you to crack and attempt to kill one of us.”

Peter blinked and then burst into laughter.  He wasn’t really surprised that Stiles and Lydia were keeping an eye on his activities.  Of all the pack, only the two of them seemed to see reality clearly, the rest all blinded to the harshness of the world around them.  Even Derek, with all that had happened to him, was still naive.

“So, what’s going on?”  Lydia studied him for a moment.  “I don’t think you plan on going on another murderous rampage, so what are you acting so squirrelly about?”


She waved a hand.  “I may have spent a bit too much time with Stiles this weekend.  Answer my question.”

Peter eyed her for a moment then reached down to pull the scorched book from the bag at his feet. He pushed toward her and sat back as she carefully opened it to the marked page.  There was silence as she quickly skimmed the page and when she finally looked up her eyes were dark.

“I take it you’ve seen this creature then?” she questioned, gesturing to the book.

“A feather,” he admitted.  “But the actually creature, no.”

She hummed softly.  “Where it you find it?”

“In the Preserve near the training area.”  He watched her as a look of anger briefly touched her features.

“Do you think it’s a danger to us?  To the Pack?” she asked.

“Past experiences want me to say yes,” he started.


“Instinct says no.”

“Show me.”

“I don’t carry it around with me,” he told her dryly.

She gave him a disdainful look.  “I figured that.  I’ll come by tonight.”

“You and me, alone in my apartment,” he whispered, leering slightly.

“And my new taser,” she said with a smirk.  “Don’t forget the taser.”

Sitting back with a laugh, Peter nodded at her.  “Tonight then.”



Her hands were reverent as she handled the feather, stroking through her fingers.  Peter watched slightly bemused.  The feather had been in her hands for over twenty minutes and she didn’t seem to be ready to set it down.

“It feels alive,” she finally whispered, looking up at him with wide hazel eyes.

He nodded.  “I noticed.”
She carefully placed the feather on the coffee table.  “It also feels familiar, like I should know it.”

That was something new to Peter, but, he didn’t have much contact with magic on a regular basis to compare it to.  Then again, there was something familiar about the tingle that he got.  He picked it up, smiling at the feeling.

“Don’t think, just answer what pops into your head,” he commanded after a few minutes of contemplation.  “What does it feel like?”

“Lightning,” she answered promptly.

“Good or bad?”

“Good, like lightning and rain and deep, dark forests.”

“Same deal,” she said to him, taking the feather and stroking it across his arm.  “What does it feel like?”


“Okay, so who in the pack is lightning, rain, and dark forests?” she asked.

The answer seem to hit them at the same time.



Across town a slender body shivered in a non-existent breeze and wrapped itself tighter in ebony wings.


Advent 2016 – Day 3

The fire was a small pitiful thing that cast weak shadows against the walls. Huddled in their coat, they shuffled a bit closer to the bare warmth. The wind was howling outside the small shelter, the sound worse than the hounds that had been hunting them. The weight of the snow on the roof creaked and cracked, each noise elliciting a flinch. They would be so glad when the winter had passed.

A thud near the door had them on their feet, weapon in hand. It had to be the Hunter with her hounds. They had been found; they hadn’t run far enough. The door slammed open, banging against the wall and letting in a small storm of snowing. A white covered figure hurried inside, fighting to close the door against the strength of the wind. Dropping their weapon, they rushed over to help. This was not the Hunter. They weren’t sure who it was, but at least they were safe from the Hunter’s wrath.


Master List

Advent 2016 – Day 2

Delin stomped his feet, wincing when only numbness greeted him. While he normally enjoyed winter, this year was proving to be beyond even his liking. The cold had come early, settling faster than it had in recorded history, and heavy, wet snow had follow soon behind, covering the area. And then more snow had come, and more, and more, until the whole county was weighed down under white. It was hard to enjoy the winter when everyone was so concerned about keeping alive. All the surrounding farms had experience a drop in their livestock; the animals dying quickly in the extremely low temperatures. The greehouses that the McKindles kept had cracked, cold seeping in to destroy the hardy winter-friendly crops they were growing. Belts were being tightened everywhere, and worry about lasting until spring was on everyone’s mind.

By generally agreement, the Winter Fair was to still happen, but it was to be held in the Town Hall instead of the Square. Most of the typical Winter Fair games had been dropped; snowball fights were too dangerous to even consider. The cooking challenges were changed to be more of a cooking gathering, with everyone who could banding together to make sure the whole county was fed. In truth, it was not really a Fair anymore. It had morphed into a chance to reconnect and to help each other out.

Hardship had always brought them together, and this horrid winter was only banding them tighter.


Master List

Advent 2016 – Day 1

The room was cold, frost beginning to curl along the window glass. Breath billowed out in clouds of steam as they vainly tried to puff-warm their frozen hands. It had been years since they had been this cold, since it had sunk deep into bone and settled there.. It was something they could do without. Cold wasn’t their friend. Not an enemy, but far from friendly. Still, it was better in here than in the outside world where there was no shelter, no cover, nothing but the freezing blanket of white snow. Cold was bad, but snow, snow was worse.

NaNoWriMo 2016 – Dark Necessities

Title: Dark Necessities
Author: Asharia
Fandom/Genre: Teen Wolf in Highlander
Relationship(s): Stiles Stilinski/Peter Hale
Content Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Extreme violence, possible gore, off-screen non-con, off-screen torture, coarse language, all the sex
Summary: Assassin Peter Hale is offered a lucrative contract to take out a harmless seeming bookstore owner. Unfortunately, his kill won’t stay dead.

Mieczysław “Stiles” Stilinski has lived for hundreds of years and experience numerous life events, so someone trying to kill him isn’t new. Still, most assassins head the other way after realizing that they failed at their task, but this assassin was of a whole different caliber.

Banner by Chestnut Nola

Banner by Chestnut Nola

This will be posted when I finished the edit/rewrite.

Title is from Red Hot Chili Peppers song.

This will be a bit on the darker side. Neither of the boys are very nice, even if Stiles does pretend to be.

Peter Hale - Assassin

Peter Hale – Assassin

Stiles Stilinski

Stiles Stilinski – Immortal