Chapter summary: War broke out, and the pack lost, when the end of the world seems imminent, Lydia and Stiles put in practice Peter's last crazy plan: time travel.

And here we go... because I'm a crazy person, I offer you now, the insane time-travel sort-of fix-it fic you probably never asked of but I still wrote anyway! Like I said, I'm a crazy person. I've always loved time-travel fix-it fics. The way you can take the full person the character is at the end of a series and place him at the very beginning, push him to correct all his/her mistakes (and why not? make some completely new ones along the way!). I always knew I wanted to write one such fic for TW, but wasn't sure how to handle it, as I didn't want my fic to end up being a repeat of others I've read (some of them very, very good). In the end, I'll admit that not all my ideas are completely original, but what is nowadays? I did the best I could.

The fic itself will be in six parts and the updates will happen anywhere from weekly to monthly, depending on my time and the interest people show in the fic (no, I'm not holding the story hostage, I don't do that anymore, I literally need people to remind me I need to update because when I get into other things I tend to forget!).

The name for the story and for all the chapters comes from a song called "Listen to the Wind", sung by Hayley Westenra, and which is the theme song for "The New World". I love the song very much, have used it in several of my fics, mostly by having the main character sing it. This time it served in many ways as inspiration. If you can, you should listen to it, it might help you get into the mood for this fic.

Main pairings for this fic: Stiles/Derek, Lydia/Jackson, Scott/Allison, Erica/Boyd, and other minor ones that will be added along the way.

A Kiss in a Dream

"Time is a river that flows endlessly, and a life is a whisper…"

"Are you seriously singing right now?" A female voice cuts him off abruptly.

He stops singing immediately, truth be told, he didn't even know he was singing (more like muttering, but he thinks they might have been the lyrics to a song, he isn't sure). He's tall, almost a full 6 ft., lean but well-muscled, whiskey brown eyes with a hint of gold on the edges, dark brown hair a tad long, messy, and a good deal of facial hair (though that's mostly more due to the lack of chance to get a good cut and a shave, rather than actual choice); he's in dark clothes and thick boots, it's what he always wore nowadays, no more plaid, crazy printed shirts or bright-red hoodies. Beside him stands a young woman in equally dark clothes, black dyed hair that looks like it's been cut by less than expert hands, and her natural red is beginning to show in her roots, hazel eyes that look closer to brown than green. She looks about the same age than him (in their twenties, except for their eyes, which look like they belong on people at least three times their ages) and is 5 ft 3 in tall.

"Don't look at me like that, Stiles." She goes on at his distracted look. "It's not like you have the ADHD as an excuse anymore."

No he doesn't because, as it turned out, he never actually had ADHD. It was the magic, fizzling under his skin, begging to be let out. That much energy with no outlet? It made it hard for him to sleep, to focus on a single thing… except when it was a matter of life or death, when he would unknowingly end up using it to keep himself and those he loved alive, then he would get hyper-focused. There was a reason why Malia once said he seemed to have a hell of a lot of luck. It wasn't luck, it was belief, the strength of his will getting him (and all of them really) through everything… until it simply wasn't enough anymore.

Stiles hates Alan Deaton. Hates the man for all the things he's done, like working with their enemies, healing them, but most especially: for pushing and twisting and downright making Scott into an Alpha, and then giving them all that stupid tale of 'True Alphas'. It was all a load of bullshit, Stiles always knew that, not because he thinks that no one could possibly be meant to be an Alpha, to be able to deserve it without having to inherit or kill for the rank, but because he just knows there's no way that a boy who never liked being a werewolf, who spent a great deal of time outright hating it, could be meant to be the alpha of a pack. More than even that, he hates Deaton for the things he never did: like helping Peter when he was in a coma, or Derek and Laura when they were effectively destitute and forced to run for their lives, like helping Derek at any point since his return to Beacon Hills (or Laura for that matter), or how about warning Alpha Hale about the threat against her pack?! There's no way the man didn't know about Kate Argent, or at the very least suspected, yet he did absolutely nothing about it. All in the name of his so-called balance! Some balance! The world is effectively going to hell around them!

It would be funny… except for where it's really, really not. Stiles can still remember sitting on the big couch on his living room, watching the Walking Dead every week with his dad, or the times he would watch movies like World War Z, Zombieland, or Resident Evil with Scott, or even the pack (back when there still was a pack as such). They'd have long talks after the movie, or sometimes even throughout it, about what they'd do if they were in the movie, how long each of them might survive… no one ever thought he'd survive long, not even Stiles himself. The world might not have turned into a zombie movie, not exactly, but it's somehow even worse than that, because the dead aren't rising, they're staying dead and the emptiness… it's smothering somehow. So many people have died… Stiles wouldn't be surprised to find out there's less than a million total world-wide. Lydia (his partner, his once-true-love, his truest-sister) actually did some kind of insane mathematical equation which told them an approximate number but he cannot remember, it's not like it matters much in the grand scheme of things.

It wasn't that bad at first… well, it was bad for him, but not for everyone else. Monroe never gave up. She kept returning, kept building up her organization, until it wasn't just them anymore, but others as well. She had it in for them above anyone else. She saw how dangerous they were, even if she never fully understood the reason. She thought it was about Scott being a True Alpha, that that was the reason why so many other packs would seek council with theirs, why those that survived the annihilation of their own packs would seek to join them; but it was never Scott, it was always Derek… and Stiles too. Derek was one of the last Hales, a wolf who could fully shift, who had the power of an alpha even being a beta, who'd sacrificed his position and power as an alpha to protect his sister. And Stiles… he was the detective, the tactician, the mage… He was never an Emissary, Deaton refused to train him when Stiles told him in a no-nonsense tone that he'd never swear fealty to Scott.

It was something Deaton never understood, mainly because he was always on Scott's side and refused to so much as contemplate that the 'True Alpha' (or the Druid himself) might be wrong. The vet never understood that the pack was never the same after Theo. Neither Stiles nor Lydia ever forgot the way Scott believed someone else, someone who wasn't really pack (and ended being pretty much a villain) over them, over the boy he'd once called brother. It's something that hurt him, a lot, some days it still does. The memory of the boy Scott was, the boys they both were, and everything they lost… for the longest time Stiles actually blamed himself, thinking that if he'd never lead Scott into the woods that night the other boy would have never been turned, and nothing else would have happened either… Scott didn't choose to be a werewolf, but it's not like it was all bad, he'd have never been first-line in lacrosse, never caught Allison's eye (and later on Kira's, Malia's, and so on…) if he hadn't been a were. But Scott insisted on taking advantage of the good things all while complaining about the bad, and the very fact of being a were. Stiles and Lydia had been effectively running the pack for him… until the fall-out. And when they all came together again… Stiles was pragmatic enough to understand about the 'needs of the many'; so he'd swallowed his pride and his anger and worked with Scott and the pack. But from that moment on it had been just that: work.

So really, it was no surprise when he refused to swear fealty, no surprise for him at least, or for Lydia. Scott of course complained, whined like a brat, while Kira and Theo called him childish; the junior members refused to comment, obviously knowing it wasn't their business. Stiles honestly has no idea who became Emissary once he and Lydia left back for college after the fight against the Anuk-Ite, he does know they didn't live long once the true war began.

It wasn't that bad at first. Scott would call on them every so often, whenever a serious number of hunters got too close to Beacon Hills. They'd answer the call, then split again. Working for a branch of the FBI devoted entirely to the supernatural allowed him to take off when necessary. Unlike others, like Lydia (doing grad studies in MIT), Cora (who'd long since left for South America again), Issac (living in France), Peter (who'd gone to work as a lawyer in San Francisco) and Malia (who, after Scott cheated on her with a were from another pack, broke up with him and moved to San Fran to go to college). Then one of the packs, down in Mexico, got it into their heads to go after hunters before they could attack them… it was a blood-bath, so many dead it made international news. And the worst part? Most hadn't even been hunters.

That was the beginning. Stiles learned there was such a thing as a Council of Hunters, they called for blood, and sent some of their best after the pack in Mexico. The ensuing deaths were so bad that the world was convinced cartels were fighting it out or something. After that it was only a matter of time before the truth was made public. With practically everyone in the world in possession of cellphones with cameras… it was to be expected. Even if the first few (dozen) were called hoaxes, manips, special effects, more and more people believed until it was finally out: Werewolves existed!

The FBI finally activated his team then. He was second in command, with Rafael McCall in charge, as the two of them were the only ones with actual experience where the supernatural was concerned. And while Stiles still didn't like the douchebag, he was mature enough to be able to work with the older man. By then he'd made a name for himself, most packs saw him as the second of the Beacon Hills pack (even though he wasn't, Scott would have never given him that kind of power… but then again, the ones who saw him in such light still respected Derek Hale above the so-called 'True Alpha McCall'…). They somehow even managed to keep things under control in most of the US for a couple of years (much longer than he ever expected). And then the rumor reached him of a huge op that was coming. An op not to negotiate a treaty, but to eliminate a pack… a pack that wasn't even a threat!

Stiles didn't even have to think about it, he left his gun, badge, and the rudest resignation letter ever written on his desk before taking off at top speed. Calling in a favor a coven owed him he managed to make it to Texas just in time to warn them of the impending attack. Some still died, but certainly not as many as the FBI surely hoped for. They also put out a warrant for him, but Stiles didn't care. A very slight glamour spell and not even the best facial recognition software could identify him.

That was when people got stupid. The FBI turned their eyes to Beacon Hills, which was only to be expected; Rafael tried to save his son, while at the same time give them the rest of the pack; Scott himself was angrier that Stiles's actions had turned the government's eyes to them, than the fact that the second biggest pack in the country would have died if he hadn't intervened. It was like Stiles and Lydia had always said, Scott wasn't really meant to be an alpha, he didn't care enough about pack, not even about his own.

Whatever the government might have promised Rafael, they failed to deliver. That was, officially, the opening salvo of the war. As if things hadn't been bad enough with the actual hunters against them, having the government wanting to kill them too… Stiles always knew they'd lose, he just never thought of how much they actually had to lose, or how much it'd hurt.

A howl cuts the mage off from his ruminations. Lydia and him just turn to look at each other, nodding once before sprinting out of the derelict house and taking off at a run, a big pitch-black wolf with glowing red eyes joining them in the race and taking the lead but a second later. It takes no time at all for them all to begin hearing the dogs, the hunting-dogs, they're being hunted… it isn't exactly a new thing, really, they've been on the run since the fall of the Beacon Hills pack, six months prior.

No one ever expected them to last this long, not even Stiles and Lydia themselves. Scott, Kira and most of their pack died together, in a huge fight six months ago; though a few had been lost in the months prior, more and more as Tamora's forces, and the government, continued to invade the town. Stiles knew Rafael tried to get Scott out but he refused to go, he'd been almost feral since the loss of Melissa and Chris the previous month. Chris had been so sure he could force the hunters to leave Beacon Hills, convinced that the Argent name still meant something… he was wrong, and it cost both him and his wife their lives. It made Scott feral, he wanted to make the hunters pay, and that was the excuse the government used to go after them; there was nothing Rafael could do except blow the whole place up after he accepted his son was gone…

Deaton was the next to fall, after Scott, Kira and theirs. They actually tried to save him, though for the life of him Stiles had no idea why. It turned out to be a mistake, and also a trap. The government had known about Deaton already; they had done nothing because they were using him to find the others, they knew not the whole pack died in the McCall house. Though Stiles wasn't that sure he and the others could be truly considered part of the same pack; neither of them had ever truly seen Scott as their Alpha. Anyway, like idiots, they went. Peter died that day, saving their lives: Stiles's, Derek's, Lydia's, and Malia's… Stiles would never forget Deaton's last words before they fled:

"I think I made a mistake…"

There was no way of knowing what the hell he'd meant. Did he regret making Scott a True Alpha? Not training Stiles? Betraying the Hales? Deaton had done, and not done a hell of a lot, all in the name of balance, and for what? The world was effectively ending anyway!

They'd gone to ground after that, the four of them, as well as the Sheriff (Parrish died making sure the sheriff got out when the government tried to take him, to use him to get to the pack). They spent months in the preserve, continuously moving around. They couldn't even leave the territory, not with the hunters and the government pretty much everywhere. There were still a few people in town who'd take pity on them, give them whatever they could spare when they saw them, but they didn't risk it often, for everyone involved. Sometimes they hunted, others they were simply forced to steal… it was awful, Noah had been the Sheriff, and Stiles his kid, they never expected to become criminals…

Malia was caught during one of their incursions. She'd managed to find a clerk distracted and got a lot of food, so giddy for the success, she got distracted, and it cost her. She managed to evade the shots, the worst being an arrow that slashed her arm; but they were herding her, and upon realizing that, she did all she could think of: she shifted and gave them the slip. It never occurred to her that the arrow that nicked her had been coated in wolfsbane, the worst kind, and that the body of a coyote was much smaller than a humanoid one, the exertion making her heart beat faster… they found her hours later, by the side of a river, her body was already cold.

Noah was the last to go, to sickness rather than anything else. Stiles was convinced that either the government or the hunters had poisoned the river they took water from, much as his father said he was just too old to live in the wild… Stiles was so terrified about losing him he was even willing to risk going into the town to get medicines, Lydia knocked him out for a while. Then woke him up just in time to say goodbye to his dad, too late for anything else. He refused to speak to her for two weeks after that.

Derek was the one to find Peter's notes, his insane plan. They spent the past two weeks preparing everything for it. Peter had actually gathered most of what was needed; apparently he was going to propose it all to them just before things went to hell in a hand-basket for good.

It's not like things were any better outside Beacon Hills than they were in. The same thing was going on everywhere. Stiles would never forget when the loup-garou pack in Europe fell. They had been the biggest pack, with a territory that took most of Europe (from France all the way to Romania). They'd all been hunted down, their deaths coming one after the other in such a way that most would find it impossible to believe… that was also the night they were forced to bind Lydia, she wouldn't have survived feeling (and screaming through) that much death. Still, it turned out that not all the governments in Europe agreed with such a move, and then war was declared. It was the beginning of the end…

Stiles had always wondered what would happen if the world (the humans) ever discovered the existence of the supernatural… he's never cursed his curiosity so badly. What wouldn't he give up not to have ever gotten an answer to that question?

But that's why they are there. Well, not to forget the answer, that he… they cannot do, but they might just be able to undo it, undo everything. That was Peter's great, final plan: time travel. They are going to go back far enough so that Monroe will never be able to pull the hunters together like she did, so the government will never get involved (hopefully will never find out about the pack) who knows? By some miracle they might even get far enough back to keep the Nogitsune from being released!

That's yet another thing he'll always hate Deaton for. That thing he had them do, where they became 'surrogate sacrifices'? It wasn't necessary at all. Stiles didn't find that out until much later, but as it turned out, the three of them had been by the Nemeton before, they could have simply done a ritual to bring those memories to the forth of their minds, without giving of themselves to the tree; without finishing the darach's five-fold knot, or turning the 'beacon' back on. But Deaton wanted the Nemeton to have power once again, not for Jennifer, or even for the pack, he wanted the power for himself.

As it turned out, Alan Deaton wasn't born with power. Born to a druid line, he hadn't had a single drop of magic. Alan had been envious of his little sister, the one who'd all the power, who was invited to be part of dozens of packs and covens. Then he met Marin Morrell, a witch with very little power of her own, but who was good at drawing power from amulets, crystals, and at times even the elements. She taught Alan enough that he could pass for a druid. It was completely accidental that he met Talia Hale when he did, shortly after the death of her previous emissary (who'd died while trying, and failing to save the Nemeton, which had been originally poisoned by none other than Gerard Argent, made worse by Morrell when she tried to extract what power was left in it). The thing was, Deaton always wanted to be an emissary, believed it to be some position of power and honor, of recognition… when it wasn't like that at all. Also, he'd no idea what being an emissary was really about, which might explain why he was so awful at it. Either that or he simply hadn't cared at all.

Stiles knows all that, because the Nemeton 'told' him. It turns out that the same thing that made the Nogitsune want him for its host (and perhaps also managing to survive said possession) in the end made him worthy of the very power Deaton (and Morrell) always craved. The power that will, hopefully, make it possible for Lydia and him to travel back in time.

Derek isn't going. Stiles hates that, but he understands the necessity of it. It's going to be hard enough to push both Lydia and himself back far enough… but they both know neither of them will be able to handle living in the past without someone knowing the truth, and the chances of anyone else believing them were close to nil… Really, Stiles loves his dad, but the man had a hard time accepting the supernatural existed at first; it's likely that the only reason things didn't get worse back then was because the darach kidnapping the 'guardians' so shortly after the 'big reveal' served to show Noah Stilinski how real it all was. And Natalie Martin… while she might have become a sort-of ally eventually, and she certainly did what she could before Lydia sent her away (only for her to die when the plane she was in, bound to Italy, crashed), for the longest time she refused to see how special Lydia is, and not just because she's a mathematical genius. So Stiles and Lydia decided to take the risk of not being able to go back as far, in order to have both of them make the trip. Derek is watching over them until then.

While they might not want to think about it, another reason Derek can't make the trip is that there simply isn't enough power in him to connect with the spell. Derek's dying… mistletoe poisoning. Less than what the darach used in Cora during their junior year of high-school; between that and Stiles's will he's managing to hold on, but it won't last forever. Not that he plans to live long after Stiles and Lydia are gone; he isn't even sad about it. Truth is Derek's just so awfully tired after everything… he wants to stop fighting, to rest, finally… Much as it might break their hearts, neither of the others can begrudge him that. They would be all for resting too except… except if they give up, that means their enemies won, it means that all the tragedies, all the deaths, all they've done and sacrificed has been for naught. That simply cannot be allowed.

"We're ready." Lydia announces.

They are. Neither of the two says a word as they undress (it's necessary for the ritual). Once naked they climb onto the Nemeton's stomp and kneel there, the stars above them. It's the night of the new moon, the dark moon, the best time for destructive magicks… and that's effectively what they are going to do. Because time-travel isn't really about going back, changing something and then returning; it can't be done like that, paradoxes would be hell on something like that. Instead time-travel is about destroying what exists, to put something new in its place. They are effectively winding back time and starting over from a certain point on.

It's why that spell is truly a last resource. The kind of thing that, if the whole world wasn't going to hell they probably wouldn't dare use. Because as much as they might be hurting, it wouldn't be fair for others, for the humans, the innocent… except it isn't just them hurting, dying. It's everyone, everywhere. And so they'll go back.

The elements are called and the circle is blessed: air, fire, water and earth; and mountain ash to reinforce the nature of the magic being used, and so they begin. Lydia is the only one that needs to actually say the words, as she's a witch, and needs them to focus the power she's drawing from the Nemeton (with Stiles's help and blessing). Stiles just needs to push his will into the spell. Derek is outside the circle, pacing. He knows that the magic will call attention sooner or later; he's there to make sure no one stops things before it's all done.

Soon enough the time comes for the next part: the one that will seal the ritual: the sacrifice. They have everything ready. First there's the phial, full of poison extracted from aconite root. Perhaps not the best poison ever, but certainly fitting for the two of them. They've measured the dose to be sure they will drink it and still manage to finish the ritual.

Stiles uncorks the phial, takes a swing of about half its contents and swallows instantly, then offers it to Lydia:

"Philosopher to philosopher…" He calls solemnly.

It's the final piece of the ritual. They cannot manage a five-fold-knot; not enough people; though a part of Stiles does wonder if, given enough time, he might have been able to create a ritual that allowed them to use the deaths of their pack… Useless thoughts to have, they have no more time, a three-fold death for the two of them will have to do.

Lydia handles the next part. Taking hold of a small, black, ring-knife she takes a deep breath before slashing down her left arm, a long, deep cut which begins to bleed a lot right away. She just lets her arm fall, the blood flowing down it and onto the tree beneath them.

"Warrior to warrior…" She forces herself to speak even through the awful burning pain.

Stiles accepts the knife without a word and slashes down his own left arm before placing the knife back on the trunk of the tree, beside the empty phial.

The two are breathing raggedly by then, the mix of poison and the slash making things hard; but they knew they'd be, and they both are certainly strong-willed enough to push through.

It's then that everything goes to hell…

Shots announce they've been found, promptly followed by Derek's howling as he throws himself at them, fighting to give Stiles and Lydia time to finish what they've begun. The two young adults reach for the last two objects on the tree: long, thin blades, at the same time.

"Guardian to guardian…" She calls, a moment later noticing she was the only one to say them.

Stiles is distracted. He can hear Derek's pained groans, he's been shot several times, and its bad. It's only made worse when he sees the flash of metal, a sword! followed by Derek's long whine, he's been slashed violently. He can hardly fight anymore…

"Derek!" Stiles cries out in horror.

"Stiles! Focus!" Lydia demands.

She's crying too, and it's not because of her own pain (though she's certainly in a hell of a lot…), it's because of Derek.

Lydia raises her knife again, waiting for Stiles to direct his eyes at her again and do the same. Then waits even further as he takes a deep breath and the two finally pronounce at the same time:

"Guardian to guardian…"

One more deep breath, and then the two proceed to stab themselves in the chest.

Neither of them cry out, not really; terrible as the pain might be, it's just adding onto earlier pain, so it doesn't really shock them.

What shocks them though is as Derek's next howl is cut off abruptly. That makes them turn, in time to see him slam against the invisible barrier created by the mountain ash. They both open their mouths to cry, except nothing leaves their throats… there's no more air in their lungs for them to speak, not with the blades that pierced their chests.

Poison, cut (bleed-out) and stab; their own version of the three-fold death; their willing sacrifice to the Nemeton, so it might grant them their request, to destroy the world they're in and send them back so they might create a better future.

The shock only escalates as Derek stumbles, falling right through the barrier; it's not broken, everyone can still see the mountain ash laid in a circle around the tree stump, yet Derek still goes through, falling on his front right between the last two members of his pack… he tries to get up, not quite noticing when his body changes from wolf to mostly-human; he forces himself to his hands and knees and then is face to face with Stiles, who is also trying to get closer yet barely able to move. For just a fraction of a second they touch, their lips connect, the lightest of brushes, and then Derek is falling and Stiles cannot catch him, cannot even scream… all he can do is watch and listen as a heart stops beating…

Stiles is completely breathless, for more than just the stab to his chest, as the memories hit him:

He remembers a sixteen-year-old Derek, sitting outside the Sheriff's office, shell-shocked; Stiles never knew for sure what made him approach the older boy, he just went.

Remembers the next time he saw Derek, six years later, so handsome and so closed off, and Stiles still felt the need to be close, though he just had no idea how.

Remembers all the times the older male would slam him against something (a door, a wall, his jeep), yet Stiles was never afraid of him…

Stiles has no idea when things shifted, when it was no longer about Scott, about helping his brother handle his new life, and instead all he wanted was to find some way to help Derek, to earn his respect, his friendship, his…

Fighting an insane Peter, for Derek…

Watching Derek's eyes glow red for the first time…

Derek using his Alpha-power to keep him safe…

Two hours spent in a pool, doing everything he could to keep both of them afloat…

Taking the worst beating of his life, refusing to breathe a word about the pack…

Working together, feeling that for the first time he truly belongs somewhere…

So many times, so many moments… they were always connected, and he didn't realize the fact, the meaning behind it all, until he was gone, and Stiles feels the hole in his soul…

The last thing that goes through Stiles's mind, right as the magic takes effect, is the song he was unconsciously singing earlier:

"Time is a river that flows endlessly

And a life is a whisper, a kiss in a dream..."

So... like? Not like? Wanna send the wolves after me for ending it here? Yeah, I know that's a hell of a way to end things, but it just felt right. On the good news, the next chapter is already written. Really, all but the last chapter are already written so... review and you'll get what's next sooner?

I really hope you'll like this, will be interested in reading it.

Full sized poster can be found in DA, where I go by Princess-Lalaith. Haven't yet decided if I'll make a wallpaper or not (suggestions are welcome).

See ya around!