Chapter Text
A fallen nephilim. Well that explained everything, of course Stiles was a fallen nephilim, Derek totally understood now. Or how about not at fucking all?
“What’s a fallen nephilim?” Scott was the first one to express the question running through all their heads, and Cas frowned, tilting his head to the side and watching Stiles like he was some sort of unknown threat or unexpected happening.
Derek really hoped that the angel didn’t see him as a threat, because smiting was just not acceptable when it was happening to one of his closest friends, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop Cas. If it came down to it maybe he could get Dean to stop the angel, guilt trip him or something.
“I’m not sure.” Cas answered, prompting a scoff of annoyance from Dean. Before anyone could complain about it, the angel continued. “At first I wasn’t certain, but his soul is indeed very old with parts that are newer, as if they’ve grown back in a place that’s missing something.”
Cas trailed off after that and Stiles finally spoke again, “I have a multiaged soul and that makes me half-angel half-human?”
Wait what? Was that what a fallen nephilim thing was? Half and half angel and human? ‘Cause admittedly Stiles mother wasn’t there anymore, so she could’ve been an angel? Then again, he would think that the werewolves would be able to tell if Stiles wasn’t human. It wasn’t exactly easy to hide something like that especially if you didn’t even know you were supposed to be hiding.
But Cas shook his head, “That just confirms it, the parts that are missing are what makes you a nephilim. Nephilim shouldn’t be able to fall, though it appears as though you’ve ripped your grace away and done so. I only just worked this out, so I haven’t had enough time to really be able to tell.”
“Okay, dude, I’m really not a nephilim, I’m like, 100% human, always have been and I intend to stay that way” Stiles protested, confusion drifting from him in great waves as he flailed his denial
“Hold up, when Anna fell she was born as a human, are you saying that’s what happened with him?” Dean asked, his confused contentment flinching faintly when he said Anna’s name.
“Souls take a very long time to grow back from when they’ve been torn apart or scared, and it takes a lot to actually harm them.” The angel explained, speaking to Dean but still watching Stiles “Anna received a soul like humans do when she was born. Since Stiles only partially has a new soul, I would assume that this isn’t the first time he’s been born as a human, but instead has been regrowing his own soul across many generations.”
~*~
Not that that should’ve made sense. In fact, it really didn’t make sense. All the nephilim had been terrible abominations and monsters. The thought that maybe one survived the slaughter of its kind by tearing its grace out and becoming human was beyond unthinkable, and worrisome as others could’ve done the same. But as Castiel continued to examine Stiles’ soul, he became more and more certain that he was correct. Castiel hadn’t been directly involved in the nephilim war when Father ordered them to stop the creatures causing constant sinning and destruction, but he had seen nephilim. Seen the way that their souls and grace fit together and spun about.
Which is why Castiel recognized this not-yet nephilim in a place he never would’ve thought to find one. Stiles’ soul looked exactly like the human half of a nephilim’s soul, except that it had grown slightly, attempting to fill up the space in which it’s grace usually would’ve gone. That would’ve taken years, hundreds of rebirths that would place Stiles at the perfect time for having been in the nephilim war.
“So wait, you’re saying that I’ve been reborn a bunch of different times and am missing half my soul? That’s a really wide theory” Stiles’ soul roiled with doubt, but Castiel could see that at least some subconscious part of the nephilim recognized and believed the truth of the angel’s words, no matter how much he wished them to be false.
“Yes” Castiel answered slightly belatedly, still on edge as he watched Stiles’ soul start searching for something not there. “I can show you the place in your soul where your grace would go?” He suggested, uncertain as to whether he even wanted to do so.
Stiles opened and closed his mouth a few times but Scott was the one to answer, his voice suspicious. “You can prove it?”
Irritation sparked through Castiel that the werewolf didn’t believe him, but it was tethered in and forgotten as the angel turned back to Stiles, tilting his head to the side in question.
“Umm, go ahead?” He squeaked, glancing at a few of his friends as if for support or denial.
Castiel walked over to Stiles, crouching down in front of the nephilim and touching his forehead. It was a good thing that he wasn’t a full nephilim at the moment or else Castiel’s grace would be pressing to kill him. Now he merely felt a strange revulsion that insisted Stiles never get his grace back so he wouldn’t have to be killed. Castiel would, regret his death.
Letting out a soft breath of air, Castiel pushed his own declining grace into Stiles, shivering in revulsion as he guided it up to the parts of the nephilim’s soul which would be attached to grace. Stiles let out a strangled noise as his soul responded, grabbing at Castiel’s grace and sticking to it in a way reminiscent of an anemone curling around his vessel’s fingers. Pulling back after that quick entrance and leaning away, Stiles’ eyes glowed white as his soul frantically searched for the grace that had just left him.
Behind him Isaac let out a sharp sound of surprise and the other werewolves started chattering, asking why, and what now. It took a few seconds, but eventually the glowing in Stiles’ eyes died down and the nephilim—not nephilim, not fully—the human folded forward, pressing his forehead into his knees and gasping.
Scott brushed by Castiel, putting a hand of Stiles’ shoulder and glaring slightly at the angel as if unsure whether to blame him for his friend’s state or not. “Is he okay?”
“He will be fine” Castiel replied distractedly, waiting for Stiles to raise his head before continuing. “Because you are aware of your species you may find that knowledge about certain things and memories may come back. The most important thing however is that you do not get your grace back.”
“Why? Wouldn’t it be better to fix him?” Isaac asked, making a face after he spoke and realized how the words had sounded.
Castiel’s grace rebelled at the thought of basically recreating a nephilim and he had to calm it before speaking. Wrestling himself into submission that never used to be necessary or so easy. But ever since he had gotten out of purgatory his grace had not been rejuvenating itself whenever he used it. Going to heaven had helped slow the loss, but there was so much blood on his hands up there that Castiel couldn’t stand it anymore, choosing instead to stay down on Earth and fix things as Sam had once said angels should.
“The nephilim war happened for a reason, if Stiles should be ‘fixed’, angels will come after him to try and kill him. We have always been conditioned to destroy any nephilim we’ve found.” Castiel replied in a clipped tone, rising to move back to his chair. The tension in the room had risen dramatically at his words and he could tell that the wolves were trying to figure out whether he was a threat to Stiles or not.
“But you rebelled against the other angels, you wouldn’t do that.” Dean spoke as though pointing something out.
Maybe. It hadn’t been like nephilim were innocent, perhaps Stiles as a nephilim would be, but perhaps he would not. “I do not kill indiscriminately and there is no reason for me to kill Stiles” Castiel settled on as a reply, knowing he could change his heartbeat to get past the werewolves abilities at hearing lies, but deciding on a hedging answer instead. It was true anyways.
Hopefully if Stiles ever did become a nephilim he would not need to be killed. Of course, Castiel thought with a mild frown, that would mean he would need to be protected. And while protecting a nephilim could be stomached, he doubted he could actively go against his brothers for one. Of course, Dean would probably want him to, which would inevitably lead to Castiel following his instructions. Dean always managed to get Castiel to do things he didn’t want to do or was uncertain about. Rebelling, leaving purgatory, not killing a werewolf who had so intimately harmed his charge, all things Dean had asked of him and he had done.
Resigned now, Castiel sat back and watched the pack as they asked their questions. He would have to be responsible for a nephilim.
~*~
Exhausted, Stiles ran his hand through his hair, trying to focus. It had been nearly two weeks since the angel Castiel had told him that he was a nephilim, and Stiles had spent almost the whole time researching how the hell that worked. Plus it got him out of the physical labor that was currently going on with cleaning up the Hale house—not that he disagreed with what was being done to it, but come on, researching was so much better. So ya, the pack including Dean was rebuilding the Hale house as some sort of awesome safe house, and Stiles was researching the fact that he had never actually been completely human.
Not that he had found much. Castiel had been his most helpful source, but most of the time he was too busy helping repairs or acting uneasy to answer questions. He had however provided his theories, which were actually quite useful. The most common way an angel could fall would be to tear out their grace, fall, and be reborn as a human. The basics of what Castiel’s theory was, was that Stiles, a long, long time ago, had been a nephilim with half grace and half soul, and had torn out the grace part. The tearing out had caused him to be reborn as a human, but instead of getting a soul like all humans did when they were created, he had only had the one half that had been his originally. It had tried to regrow, but still recognized that it should be attached to more grace and not more soul, something it couldn’t create. Furthermore, since Stiles’ grace would’ve still existed, when he died he would’ve gone through the whole process of falling again instead of heading up or down to an afterlife. He would’ve only had a half soul again with the little bit that had regrown, and the cycle repeats itself.
It all sounded really farfetched and Stiles wouldn’t have believed the angel, had Castiel not shown him that something was missing. Even now Stiles could feel the empty space if he really concentrated, focused in on his very being that Castiel had made noticeable to him, and found the gaping lack where it felt like there should’ve been something. It sucked. A lot. ‘Cause now he could always feel it, feel this thing missing.
Not that any of it should’ve even been possible in the first place. For one, so many sites, books and other supernatural resources called nephilim the children of fallen angels and humans, or even fallen angels themselves. The Bible—where Castiel had told him to go—was extremely unclear on nephilim, mentioning them in passing and not going into much detail. Castiel had never actually met or spoken with a nephilim before, and when Stiles suggested calling on one of his siblings to ask, the angel had firmly disagreed, stating that not only were there few to no angels who would still side with him, there were even less who would leave a nephilim alive, even one without grace. The fact that Stiles was seen as someone with a kill on sight basis to angels was pretty hurtfully depressing, and after whatever Castiel did with his grace, they actually had to hide him.
Truthfully they were quite screwed if anything malicious—angels, demons—came after them, which basically meant that they were quite screwed. Not that anything had happened so far, just that it was bound to happen. ‘Cause come on, Beacon Hills here. When did something terrible not happen? It was actually kind of depressing, the fact that any angel who came near him would now want him dead. At one point Dean had told him that Cas called his brother an abomination for quite a while after they met, so he shouldn’t feel too bad. Considering that all the angel did in Stiles’ presence was look uneasy, he admitted that the other option was quite a bit worse.
“Stiles!” Allison’s voice made Stiles jump and he turned to find her bursting into the room. Luckily she didn’t looked panicked, just exasperated. “How did you not hear me?”
“Umm, I wasn’t paying attention?” Crap, had she been calling him for long? “What’s up?”
“If you’re not in the middle of something, can you come down and help me with designs for the panic room? Also if you bring your laptop we may be able to contact Lydia and ask her for help too.” Allison said, making a face as she spoke of Lydia.
At one point in his life, Stiles would’ve leapt to defend the strawberry haired wonder, but now they were all really uncertain about her. Originally her and Jackson had been coming back after university let out, but then life had happened and it looked like she was going to stay out at her fancy math university. Not that Stiles didn’t still love her—platonic, not even deflecting, he had gotten over her before he started dating Derek—but she wanted to be normal, or as normal as she could, something that the rest of them had kind of left behind dreams of being a long time ago. Unlike the rest of them she hadn’t gotten into anything supernatural related in university, choosing instead to focus her life on numbers and taking over the world with her amazing intelligence.
Stiles on the other hand had dove right into all things supernatural. Learned Greek, Latin, took a partial degree in analyzing related to criminal justice, but mostly to cover up his other classes which ranged from dead languages to cryptozoology to semiotic studies. Everything and anything that could help him get ahead of all the creatures that wanted to kill him and his friends. To no surprise, it was incredibly interesting.
“Sure. Can we set up by where everyone is working so that we can steal ideas from Cas or Dean if need be?” Stiles asked as he checked his open tabs out of habit and then closes the laptop.
Allison nodded and led the way out of the room, heading downstairs. The apartment Boyd, Erica, Scott and her had gotten was actually pretty awesome, and although Stiles and Isaac had originally stayed at his dads house, the plan had always been for them to move into the pack apartment. Dean and Derek stayed at a motel but the whole pack was currently in the process of cleaning the Hale house to fix up and live in. And to create a panic room inside, which Stiles thought was incredibly awesome. Basically the room was one big giant room that they could go in and hide from other creatures. Dean already had a bunch of suggestions for sigils and protectants from a family friend who had one, and had been where the idea came from, but they also had to do something about the pack. ‘Cause, werewolves and a nephilim here.
“I still think it’s a good idea to use an angel banishing sigil near me just to see what happens” Stiles blurted out as soon as they were out of the apartment and down to get into his jeep—yup, still designated driver.
“Castiel says that it hurts and he doesn’t think it’ll work on you because you don’t have any grace” Allison replied with the ease of someone who has heard and said the same thing many times.
Stiles mock pouted, letting out a little huff. He knew the banishing thing probably wouldn’t do anything to him and that Castiel would have to do it or else he’d get banished also, or only. Which, considering how Castiel’s grace was declining—something Stiles had figured out but most of the other werewolves seemed to be oblivious to, though that could also be because they hadn’t had his grace inside them at one point, not in the fun way—would not be a good thing. So fine, no angel banishing. Though that didn’t mean that Stiles couldn’t ask about it. ‘Cause if he were ever to get his grace back, it would be important to know. Not that he really wanted to get his grace back, but also not that he didn’t want it. The whole thing was really iffy. In the end he just didn’t know enough about nephilim to know if he wanted to turn back into one. Turning into a werewolf? Heck no, Stiles was so much more useful to the pack as human. Rebecoming a nephilim? Maybe. Except for the part where Cas would try and kill him.
“Okay, well what ideas do we have for the panic room so far?” He asked, then went on to list the protective ideas Dean had given him when the hunter suggested the room. “Salt and concrete lined walls, which we’ll fill with a ring of mountain ash that only lets the pack in, a giant devils trap on the roof, sigils everywhere, a ring of rowan trees and mistletoe growing above the thing. Did I already mention its underground?” Stiles paused and then decided that that was unimportant as he just had. “Umm, lots of weapons inside, storable food, living area that can be completely independently sustained. This is going to take a really long time. Like, if we worked at it every day, it’s probably going to take half a month. Or less ‘cause everyone working on it is big and growly or menacing in some way. Seriously, why are they all menacing? Not that you’re not also menacing” Stiles rushed to reassure Allison, “Just that they are also menacing. I think that I should become a nephilim again on the sole reasoning to become menacing. I could run around like Castiel and stare at people like I can see into their souls.
“Not that Castiel can’t see into people’s souls, after he read my mind, which was terrifying and makes me wish that something like Occlemency was real so that I could practice and put up a defense against people in my head. People in general, not just Cas,” Stiles continued “’Cause he’s pretty cool and all, just, you know. Menacing. Really menacing, with his huge black wings and staring that I already mentioned, and his blue eyes and the fact that he’s a hot angel. Seriously! Why are there hot angels? I know I complained about this before, but now it’s really become a problem. It’s not good to have so many supernatural things that are hot because then you think about them and Castiel can read your mind and tell and, oh hey, I totally haven’t thought about Cas like that.” Stiles cut himself off wonderingly.
He actually hadn’t thought about the angel like that yet. But holy crap now he’s screwed himself over because he is thinking about Castiel like that. Dean’s hot enough, and with Derek they’re both just miles over the hotness rating, but add Castiel in…
“Oh god, Dean has a brother doesn’t he?” Stiles realized, turning to stare at Allison in horror. She had her eyes closed and looked like she was wondering why she’d ever agreed to get in the car with him, but he ignored it in favor of this terrible path his thoughts had gone down. “I bet he’s hot too! Because he needs to follow the rules of good lookingness, and so they’re probably both underwear models. I think that’s how they’re such good hunters. They go around distracting people by being gorgeous, and no one sees the dead bodies!”
“Yes, you’ve found out how hunters work, now please look at the road” Allison’s voice was exasperated as if she had no idea what to do with Stiles.
To be fair, few people did. He had mostly grown out of his ramblings and flailing, but ADHD did not go away overnight, he still took adderall, and he still had long moments of needing to do something, whether it be talking, moving or whatever.
Stiles debated on continuing his train of thought aloud, but then decided that no, he had already forgiven Allison for stealing Scott from him and trying to kill them all back in high school. No need to make her suffer more. He could have epiphanies in silence, however long said silence managed to last.