FicWad

A/N: I don't know how I got here, but Teen Wolf fandom – hello! I had no idea how entertaining teenage werewolf angst was. I'm especially partial to the Stiles-centric fics.

FYI – I have not seen all of the show. There are some facts that I'm completely making up to suit my whims (like spark and mountain ash stuff) and I've kept a bunch of people (like Allison).

The elven aesthetic I'm picturing in my head is a mashup of Legolas and the elves from 'Bright' (terrible movie, but hot elves…especially that long-haired Detective in the fancy suit. Hubba.)

This is not at all a serious fic. In fact, I think it's probably a little cracky.
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You don't spend 17 years as the Sheriff's low-key delinquent son without learning the signs of being tailed. He had been squeezing tomatoes in the produce section of the grocery store when his Stiles' senses started tingling. Looking up he saw a Legolas wannabe in a dark purple, 3-piece suit staring straight at him from the melons doing a very unconvincing impression of a grocery shopper. Both arms were jutted out in front of him and in each hand was an erect banana. As if he was offering the bananas to Stiles from two rows over. Real creepy.

Feeling perved out, Stiles put the tomatoes in his cart and left the fruits and veggies. Out of his peripheral vision he could see the guy's head turning like an owl's, tracking his movement.

In the relative safety of the frozen food aisle, he took a moment to assess the potential threat. It was Saturday night and he was out buying snacks for the pack meeting currently taking place at Derek's. All the other Avengers were assembled except for him. He had been voluntold to grab food stuffs because Derek, being the muscled, were-hobo that he was, didn't have anything except for protein powder and cobwebs in his cupboards.

Seeing the bespoke guy jarred something in Stiles' hindbrain. He hadn't seen him before, but he's sure he'd seen what must've been his…associates…over the last couple of days around Beacon Hills. They had all been wearing the same outrageously expensive suit. At the bank and then at the Best Buy. As though he had attracted the attention of a very well dressed cult. Stiles was sure they were together. Not only because of the suit, but their eyes; they all had otherworldly, ice blue eyes. Stiles had enough experience with the supernatural to never ignore his instinct. He was being followed.

Parked in front of the frozen perogies, he whipped out his phone and immediately called Scott for backup before Stranger Danger found him.

"Scott!" Stiles whispered aggressively into his phone, hand cupped around his mouth. "I'm being followed!"

He was trying to keep the shrieky hysteria he could feel creeping through his veins out of his voice. Judging by the looks he was getting from the lady in front of the frozen peas, he needed to try harder.

A clearly distracted Scott responded, "Dude, what? – Isaac, no, man, wait! We're gonna attack the cows when Stiles gets back. We need all three of us to defeat them. He'll be back in a minute. I'm talking to him now. – Stiles, where are you?"

"His p.o.s. jeep broke down again, didn't it? Tell him we don't have any duct tape." Stiles heard Isaac in the background insulting his vehicle, but had to ignore him because priorities.

"Scott! Listen to me, some creepy pasta is following me around the grocery store."

The click-clacking of buttons from a PS3 controller was the only response until, "Pasta? No, we don't want spaghetti – just chips and Jackson wants redvines."

"If he's going full Mom, tell him to pick me up some eggs." The slimy smooth tones of Peter's voice ordered.

"Holy fucking shit, Scott! Stop playing that goddamn game!" The shriek had finally taking over Stiles' voice. "Put me on speaker phone, you useless asshole."

Scott let out a wounded sound, but did as he demanded, "Alright, geez. …k, you're on speaker."

"I. Am. Being. Followed." Stiles was careful to enunciate, but resumed whispering lest he be heard by his pasty shadow. "Do you hear me? I am being followed."

Through the phone, Stiles heard Scott drop the controller as he immediately grew serious.

"Stiles, who's following you? Why?" Rustling came through the line as Scott rushed to stand up off the couch, "We're on our way."

Isaac, not really one for Team Stiles, piped up, "Hold on. Why do you think someone is following you? Why the hell would someone follow Stiles?" Realizing his insult, he tacked on a paltry "No offense." towards the phone.

"I think someone's following me because someone is literally following me!"

The entire pack, now surrounding the phone, could hear the beating of Stiles' already racing heart grow rabid as he whispered the next ominous words,

"He's found me. Fuck. I'm gonna die in a grocery store by a white-haired freak pushing a solitary banana around in a jumbo cart. Fuck. Hurry up and save me, you assbutts!"

Spurred on by Stiles' panic, they surged to leave the loft. Peter was the first one out the door, coat on, and keys in hand. They raced down the stairs, Scott still carrying the phone with Stiles on speaker, but paused when they heard Stiles' start yelling.

"Get away from me, creeper!" They could hear what sounded like bags of chips being thrown, as if Stiles' was using the items from his cart as ammo.

"Go! Go! Go!" Scott forced everyone to keep running as they all kept an ear on what was happening with Stiles.

They heard the crashing of grocery carts as well as the breaking of glass and several dull thuds and splats of items being launched.

"HA! Motherfucker! How do you like them tomatoes! Thought you could just kill me without a fight! Without – uh…"

Stiles manic yelling abruptly stopped just as they reached their cars in the parking lot.

"Stiles! What's happening?" Scott was frantic. "Stiles!"

They heard a soft voice speak in a foreign language (one that had Peter completely freezing in shock) and Stiles sputter out, "uh…thank…you…?"

The voice spoke a few indiscernible words and then left, judging by the sounds of footsteps trailing away.

"Stiles!"

Stiles was silent for a second before answering, confused, "I was just handed a banana and a…rock?"

Isaac let out an annoyed sound and rolled his eyes, instantly abandoning their rescue mission and heading back inside. "Way to spaz, Stilinski."

Peter grabbed the phone out of Scott's hand "Hey!" and asked very carefully, "Stiles. What does the rock look like?"

The tone and timber of his voice had Isaac stopping in his tracks to listen. The rest of the group were looking at a very serious Peter in confusion and worry.

A befuddled Stiles answered, "It's kinda greenish blue with some gold and purple streaks. It's pretty, as far as creeper rocks go."

Scott, trying to assert some True Alpha authority, took over the questioning, mimicking Peter's voice as best he could, "And what does the banana look like?"

Peter rolled his eyes while the whole pack just looked at him like a moron.

"It looks like a fucking banana, Scott. Jesus." Stiles' exasperated voice made Scott flush a dull pink in embarrassment. "Shit. The staff are closing in. I've got to go before they make me pay for this mess. I'll be there in a couple minutes." And with that, he hung up on them.

Not even 5 minutes after Stiles had arrived back and they had all looked at the rock, there was a knock on the door and Alan Deaton entered Derek's loft.

"Deaton?" Scott stepped forward.

"I called him." Peter revealed. "Stiles, show him the stone."

Stiles got up and handed Deaton both the rock and the banana.

After a close inspection of the stone, a gravely silent Deaton looked at Peter, "You know what this signifies, don't you?"

A superior look crossed Peter's features, "Of course."

The pack looked back and forth between the two irritatingly enigmatic men without a clue as to what they meant.

Impatient, Stiles spoke up, "Enough. What does this bullshit mean and can I eat the banana?"

In all the panic of earlier, Stiles never did get those snacks and he was starving. Chucking frozen food items at weirdos was hungry work.

Deaton's focus zeroed back onto Stiles and he wordlessly handed him the piece of fruit.

"Thanks."

Stiles was starting to get really uncomfortable with the way both Deaton and Peter were staring at him as he peeled his banana. Their combined creep factor was too much to handle.

"Ok, what?" Stiles managed around a mouthful of mush.

A vein in Deaton's forehead pulsed at the disgusting view.

"The being who followed you through the grocery store has most likely been tracking you for the last three days."

Stiles choked hearing that information. "I knew it! I knew I had seen other guys in suits the last two days. Why am I being followed?"

"Because of what you are." Deaton stated simply.

Stiles looked Deaton in bewilderment and then looked at the pack for answers.

"An asshole?" Isaac, helpful as always.

Preventing any Stisaac squabbles, Peter answered, "A spark."

He leveled Stiles with a contemplative look and then posed to Deaton, "A rather powerful Spark, if I'm not mistaken."

Deaton inclined his head in agreement.

Having more questions than answers, Stiles asked, "You mean that trick with the mountain ash? Scott's mom could do that. Does that mean she's a spark too? And how would this guy even know about me?"

Deaton squirmed a little at the last question and answered the first two. "That 'trick' with the mountain ash was anything but, Stiles. It was a very impressive and, usually, very difficult channeling and conversion of energy."

Stiles looked surprised and a little bit pleased with this news.

"Melissa McCall isn't a spark. She was only able to close the mountain ash barrier because the mountain ash remembered how to close. It was the same ash Stiles had used. I went and retrieved it after the fight."

Apparently finished his explanation, Deaton returned his attention to the stone in his hand.

As one, the pack looked to Peter for clarification (grudgingly).

A smug Peter elaborated condescendingly, "Mountain Ash is not a sentient matter; however, when Stiles imbued it with the power to close, he essentially gave it a single purpose. That batch of mountain ash will always close now, providing a barrier, no matter who uses it. No future belief will be necessary because it is already primed to close. A werewolf could use it and it would work."

There were both pros and cons to having such a young pack (mostly cons, Peter decided). Looking around he could see that their True Alpha didn't really understand, if the slightly glazed look his in eye was any indication of comprehension. Stiles, as usual, understood immediately and was looking at his upturned hands in semi-amazement. Lydia and Allison both looked rightly concerned with this information, while Jackson and Isaac sat scowling on Derek's couch. Derek himself was looking at Peter as if he was trying to remember something. Peter knew what he was trying to recall.

"Talia spoke of sparks, Derek. She was teaching Laura about identifying potential packmates – what to look for, what to avoid."

As if a lightbulb clicked on, Derek remembered and looked at Stiles in disbelief, relaying what his mother had said, "Sparks are rare. She told Laura that it was unlikely she would ever come across one, but if she did, she was to do everything in her power to add the spark to her pack. And if there was ever a rival pack that had a spark, she was to either kill the spark immediately if she could or turn tail and run. I had completely forgotten."

Scott looked at Stiles in amazement, "Dude."

The more they described how badass a spark was, the less Stiles was convinced he was one. None of this was really making sense. Sure, Stiles knew he was bomb, but that was mostly due to his wit, charm, and googlefu. All this talk about power and rarity wasn't resonating with him. He didn't feel powerful. He still felt like the weakest member of the pack and completely human.

Seeing Stiles was no longer looking convinced and excited, Peter tried something.

"Stiles, turn off the tv."

In all the hullabaloo of everything, nobody noticed the television was still on. The weather channel was droning on uselessly about a 50/50 chance of rain and/or sun.

"Turn it off yourself." Stiles was indignant at being considered the pack slave. First the grocery store and now this.

Peter took a deep breath – another tick in the Young Pack Con column – and elucidated.

"With your spark, Stiles. Turn the television off with your spark."

"What the hell makes you think I have any idea how to do that? You want me to just believe that the tv is off and it'll turn off?"

"It's all about energy with sparks. Channeling and converting it. Some sparks, like you, have more dexterity than others and are able to manipulate on a molecular level, like with the mountain ash. Other sparks are only able to use their connection with energy in a manner that is often mistaken for telekinesis."

Deaton decided the rock had been inspected enough and added, "There is a reason you appear to have an overabundance of energy, Stiles. To the point that you've been labeled as ADHD. Because you are a spark, the Earth's energy, which is everywhere, is attracted to you. It wants to be used and because you're not using it, it's essentially trying to get your attention. Hence the 'Attention Deficit' part of ADHD."

"Are you saying that if I were to start being more…sparky, my ADHD would go away? I wouldn't need Adderall?" Stiles looks like his world was being flipped upside down.

With a small smile, Deaton confirmed, "Yes. You'd still be hyper, but your concentration would improve drastically as the energy would know it had your attention and wouldn't be pulling at it."

"What can I do, exactly? Is this kinda like Harry Potter?" Stiles eye grew wide. "Will I be able to fly Voldemort style or do any of the Hogwart curriculum like Transfiguration or…holy shit, will I be able to turn into an animagus?"

"You could be a wolf!" Scott was getting sucked in to Stiles' spiral of crazy.

"Stiles, just turn off the damn tv." Derek interrupted, having run out of patience.

"So rude." But Stiles faced the tv and jumped up and down a few times while attempting to crack his neck and knuckles, as though he was a boxer getting pumped up to face an opponent

"This should be good." Isaac muttered from his spot on the couch.

"You got this, Stiles!" Scott cheerleaded from behind him.

"Thanks, Scotty." Stiles gave him 2 thumbs up.

After a few more seconds of jumping, Stiles did a complex move which involved bringing his hands in towards his stomach, hunkering down into a lunge, and then, with a mighty yell, throwing his arms out towards to tv. Which remained on without so much as a flicker.

"…was that from Dragonball Z?"

"Shut up, Scott."

"Impressive, Goku." Snarked Isaac.

Before Stiles could attempt another fictional move, Deaton stepped forward.

"Remember last week when I had you concentrate on that pendant?"

Scott's inquiry of "What pendant?" went unanswered.

"Yeah."

"You need to do that. Concentrate on the currents around you. Close your eyes and just listen to your heartbeat."

He waited about a minute for Stiles to immerse himself in the energy. While normally Stiles found concentrating difficult, Deaton knew the energy wouldn't pull his attention all over the place since he was trying to forge a connection.

The pack remained completely silent.

"Visualize the energy in and around you. Feel it around your arms, your hands, and your fingers. Create a mental pathway from your fingertips to the television for it to follow. Visualize it channeling through the path and arriving at the on/off button. Now nudge the energy forward to-"

The television clicked off.

Stiles opened his eyes and saw that his right arm was extended towards the television. He had no recollection of having moved it. Once he saw the television was off, he felt the blood drain from his face and he felt faint.

Shakily he asked, "Am I being punked right now? Isaac turned off the tv, didn't he, the little shit?"

He was immediately grappled into a hug by Scott, who was whooping his ever-loving head off.

"That was amazing! Stiles! Do you know what this means?"

Looking at his hands, Stiles let out an incredulous, "You're a wizard, Harry."

Deaton looked to be in a great deal of pain at this statement (he was going to have to train Stiles), Peter rolled his eyes, and Derek let out a groan and went to make himself a protein shake.
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A/N: I hope you enjoyed that. I'd love to know what you think.