Shield Me ( Stiles Stilinski X Captain America )

Mission 4: Blame the Magic

Stiles grew bored of the tv after Oogie and the Cockroach ended. Stiles reached for his bag, careful not to wake up the sleeping werewolf and took his magic book. Stiles skimmed over the book and suddenly a thin pocket book fell out. Stiles picked it up. It was a book about Sparks. Harry must have slipped it in when the older man found out his supernatural species. A small smile tugged at his lips. What a thoughtful man. Stiles noted in his mind to visit Harry in the near future and give him his special brownies which he learned from his mom.

Stiles decided to read the pocket book first to know what he was and the pros and cons of being a Spark.

According to the book, the last known Spark was Gaia, the Earth goddess who was under eternal slumber as her self-imposed punishment for the chaos she and her children caused. As he flipped through the book, an idea formed clearer. A Spark's magic was directly tied to the Spark's belief. The more he believed it, the stronger his magic was. As long as he believed it might happen, it would happen. The spells, the incantation or the glyphs, he didn't really need those. It would only serve as a focus, a tangible point to the impossible. He laughed when he read the final words written on the back cover.

Believe it, and it will happen.

Stiles now knew where Harry got that tip. After reading the pocket book, he placed it on the last page of his magic book.

Stiles then started reading about wards. He soon learned the different kinds of wards and how to make them. But what got his attention was a ward so powerful it actually hid anything inside it from reality. It was like it never existed. There were only a few kinds of supernatural beings capable to see it, much less break it. Stiles grinned, excited to try it out.

Stiles lifted Jackson's head and slipped a cushion under his head. The werewolf grumbled in his sleep. He gently ruffled the werewolf's hair before preparing for the ward.

Stiles rummaged his backpack for the jar of powdered mountain ash and took a hand full of it. Stiles clenched his fist tighter, instilling his belief into the powder. He chanted inside his mind. Protect and conceal. Protect and conceal. Protect and conceal. Stiles felt that warmth pooling on his hands and the powder warmed as well. It must be my magic, Stiles mused. He stretched his arms forward and opened his hands. The powder loosened, falling through his fingers. Stiles watched in fascination as the powder hit the floor and moved on its own, tracing an imaginary circumference until it came full circle. The circle flared sky-blue and a dome made of bluish light enclosed him in a flash before it disappeared the next second. He looked around but everything seemed the same except for the feeling of something around him and the stillness of the air.

"Stiles?" Jackson called out, blinking bleary eyes from sleep. Stiles attention was drawn by the werewolf's call. The traces of sleep blinked instantly away when he realized he couldn't hear Stiles' heartbeat. Jackson halted and focused for a second listening to the sounds around him, trying to locate where the erratic heartbeat of the younger teen was. It wasn't there. Even his smell was gone, only lingering traces remained. "Stiles?" Jackson called out again.

"Jackson, I'm here." Stiles said loudly.

But then Jackson looked around, searching. He even sniffed the air. Still, nobody answered him. Jackson shot up, fully alert for anything dangerous. "Stiles! Stiles where are you?"

Stiles was confused. He was in front of Jackson but the werewolf couldn't seem to see nor hear him. Then, Jackson wolfs out, brilliant blue eyes glowing worried and fearful. "STILES!" He growled, desperately.

Stiles was assaulted and overwhelmed by feelings of fear, concern and rejection that was clearly not his. Jackson run to the kitchen passing by him and desperately calling out his name again.