laniew1: (Avengers)
[personal profile] laniew1
Summary: Stiles is back home, everything and nothing is the same.

TITLE: SS:AOS: The Rise of A’kresh
SERIES: Stiles Stilinski: Agent of SHIELD
RATING: PG-13 (for now)
PAIRING: Stiles/Clint
AUTHOR: Melanie
Summary: Stiles is back home, everything and nothing is the same.
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing Marvel, MTV, etc own everything but the idea to mesh them..

SS:AOS: The Rise of A’kresh 8/?

“I need you to promise me…” Stiles starts and stops, his dad looks at them, one brow cocked, fork lowering. Breakfast is one of the few meals that they eat together, alone.

No Clint or Derek or Liu hovering, no Crawford looking at him with knowing eyes and making notes in his little notebook that aren’t going to mean anything because the notebook won’t go with them.

They’ll pop right back onto the Helicarrier, so unless Crawford’d had some sort of psychic vision on the other side that he hadn’t bothered to tell Stiles about and then wrote all this down...

Not going to mean anything.

“Promise you?” his dad prompts.

“Don’t let Rayden talk you into Kombat,” he says, his dad huffs a laugh and when he looks over at him he’s rolling his eyes as well.

“Rayden’s already got fighters lined up if it comes to that,” his dad says, he sounds slightly perturbed about that fact. “You’ll be pleased to note that I am, at the moment, not counted among them.”

Stiles grins.


“So is it your dad still over here?” Crawford asks, it’s quiet, no one’s leaning over a map and sketching out escape routes and memorizing plans because they’ve already done everything they can.

When it happens, it’ll happen and no amount of planning is going to change the fact that Crawford, Stiles and Darla are going to end up on the Helicarrier.

“What do you mean?” Stiles asks, he’s bent over the table doing something with paperclips, rubber bands and a pencil. Crawford is pretty sure he’s constructing some sort of rudimentary sling shot that he’s going to use to fire projectiles at people.

He’s bored it seems.

“Over there it was your dad that was the reason for the…” he waves his hand to encompass the whole witch thing without saying the words because he doesn’t want to get into another 30 minute argument on the difference between witches and warlocks and wiccans and sparks and how they’re all just enough different that they can’t be lumped together.

“I’m not a witch here,” Stiles says, Derek makes a noise that sounds a lot like disbelief by the door and Crawford glances over at him in surprise. He’d kind of forgotten that Derek was still there, Clint is off with Natasha checking on town security with the Argents and Stiles’ dad.

“Don’t make that noise,” Stiles says, Derek’s rolling his eyes at Stiles which Stiles seems to find amusing because he laughs a little.

“You, uh,” Crawford rubs a hand over his head, twists his mouth. “You put up the barrier.”

“I’m not a witch here, I’m considered a spark because I’m not trained or anything. If we weren’t going to merge the universes I’d probably end up Emissary of the pack, take over for Deaton though I’d probably never be able to pull off the enigmatic telling the pack things without actually telling them anything thing that Deaton manages to pull off.”

“But the spark had to come from somewhere right? So still your dad, or was it your mom here?”

“Still my dad,” Stiles says, he fiddles with something on the pencil and when he spins in his chair Crawford can see that he was right and Stiles has constructed a makeshift slingshot.

He shoots a rubber band at Derek and it goes wide, pinging off a window two inches to Derek’s left. Derek raises an eyebrow at him and Stiles smiles winningly.

“If you’re bored…” Derek starts and Stiles laughs.

“I’m not bored, I’m just…” Stiles shrugs and drops the slingshot on the table behind him, the thing falls apart and Stiles looks at it like it betrayed him.

“I don’t like the waiting.”


The barrier is holding but John can see places where it’s starting to wear thin, he makes mental notes so he can updates the map when they get back.

“There’s two places where it could break first,” he says. Chris looks at him sharply, the two SHIELD agents watching on with practiced disinterest.

“You can see the barrier?”

John shrugs, “you thought Stiles was just some naturally occurring first time in a generation spark? He’s a fifth generation spark, my mom would be thrilled to know that he’s actually utilizing it, she always thought I was kind of a waste of the spark because I didn’t train.”

He supposes if she can see him now she’d be proud, he’s still not using the spark but he doesn’t deny it’s there anymore.

Baby steps, it’s all baby steps. Maybe in the other universe he’ll actually do something more with it.


Clint hasn’t been able to get in touch with anyone else, not Steve or Bruce or Fury or Stark with his fucking high-tech radios. He allows Nat to worry about that though and focuses on Stiles and his apparent disregard for his own safety and continued existence.

“I noticed something interesting about the maps,” he says, it’s just the two of them, Stiles has wheedled enough that Scott and Derek went after food. He wouldn’t say anything in front of the others, they’re both overprotective enough, evidence that Stiles hasn’t planned himself into any of the escape groups might actually put one or both over the edge.

“There’s no point really,” Stiles says almost absently, he’s got a ruler in one hand and is drawing straight lines between the towns and the barriers they know are still functional.

Clint really has no idea what he’s doing it for, he’s sure it has a purpose, just about 90% of the things that Stiles does are for a some reason typically only known to him.

“I beg to differ.”

“If the others succeed and for some crazy ass reason the realities don’t merge, it’s not going to make a bit of difference, not for me. The barrier falling is going to burn me out, the only thing putting me in one of those groups is going to make me people I care about watch it happen.”


“It’s okay,” Stiles’ lips twist into a wry grin that doesn’t reach his eyes which just look sad. “I’ve kind of resigned myself to the fact that it’s going to be a shit storm either way, I either die here or I end up on the Helicarrier where there is possibly people waiting to kill me there.”


The barrier starts to crumple on a Monday, Stiles can feel it happening the second it starts and as much as he wants to lock himself in a room and just wait for whatever is going to happen to happen…

Well he can’t, there’s people he need to protect.

“Get the groups together,” he manages to get out before he puts his hands over his ears, closes his eyes and does not scream, no matter how badly he wants to.

He just breathes and breathes, he startles when he feels a hand on the back of his neck, the pain, a small portion dims and when he manages to pry his eyes open he can see Derek standing in front of him.

Clint kneels next to him, a gentle hand on his back.

“Tell us what you need us to do.”

“Get the groups ready to go, make sure they’re armed in some fashion,” the Argents have been handing out knives and guns and he’s sure that the arrows and bow that Clint has been carrying around with him came from there.” Don’t worry about me.”

Derek snorts and if he managed to peel his eyes open he would probably see Clint rolling his at him.

He doesn’t though, just lets Derek leech away some of the pain and Clint’s presence steady him and doesn’t think about what’s to come.


Stiles is passed out on the couch in the Sheriff’s office, face still twisted in pain and Derek’s not sure why they don’t have him loaded in one of the cars hightailing it out of town against his express wishes.

He’s unconscious now, they could just evacuate him and deal with his anger later.

“Someone needs to stay with him,” Clint is saying, Derek doesn’t like him.

Not just because Stiles does but because every word that comes out of his mouth everyone seems to agree with.

“I’m staying with him,” Crawford says, Clint goes to say something and Crawford just shoots him a look. “No arguments, Stiles and I discussed this, we’re going to end up on the Helicarrier together, it makes sense for me to be here when the realities snap together.”

“Darla’s not here,” Clint says.”

“She doesn’t need to be, because technically it doesn’t really matter where any of us are. You’ll end up on your mission, and you guys will end up in Beacon Hills and Stiles, Darla and I will end up on the Helicarrier. That fact of the matter is Stiles doesn’t want any of you around if the realities don’t merge and he ends up burning out along with his wards.”

Everyone is silent and then Scott makes a small noise that sounds like a wounded animal. “No one said anything about Stiles dying.”

“Because he’s not going to,” Crawford says emphatically. “I have faith that everything is going to happen exactly as it’s supposed to, because the alternative is not something I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about.”


Stiles starts muttering at around two in the morning on Tuesday, all the transports are loaded up and staged with their occupants at a variety of points leading out of town.

Crawford can’t decipher what he’s muttering, it sounds like the words to a spell in either Russian, either way Crawford prefers the muttering to the screaming that starts about an hour later.

He spends most of that hour with his fingers in his ears and praying to a god he hasn’t really believed in since he was fourteen.

The screaming stops abruptly and Crawford pulls Stiles into his lap, holding onto him for whatever is going to happen next.

“I really, really hope…

… this…



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September 2016


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