It isn't like remembering. It's as though he'd never forgot. His mom is walloping him and it isn't the first time. He knows that pleading for her to stop won't help but he tries anyway, taking blow after blow until his dad intervenes and wrestles her off her son (again, not for the first time).

Only it isn't his dad. Stiles blinks tears away as he wakes up to the present.

Theo is brawling with some kid Stiles doesn't recognize; must be another one of those chimeras. They are moving too quickly in too low a light for Stiles to pick out what combination of creatures this one is supposed to be. And honestly, he can't really bring himself to care. He is still adjusting to the new shape his memories are taking on, moments he had never forgotten gaining a cutting sharpness.

The funeral, the day she died – it was the first day he'd come back to the hospital to see her after this night – had she been so upset to see him again that she'd – and then was it really actually his fault – ?

The fight had stilled. The boy was now just a boy. He had his hands up. He was backing away, close to the ledge, right where his mom had –

Stiles closes his eyes against the image, but that one wasn't going away now that it had finally caught hold of him.

There is a scuffle, and a shout. The cry cuts out with a heavy crack. His eyes fly open. This wasn't how that night had ended.

Stiles is on his feet and peering over the ledge in seconds.

The splayed body on the ground below overwhelmes him in its resemblance to another, more recent, memory. Blood haloes the boy's head, and his eyes gleam, white and human and staring.

Up turn other heads, and the screaming starts. This time, there is an audience.

Stiles ducks down. He presses his back against the low wall and makes himself breathe.

"What the hell did you do?" he scrapes out.

"I was saving your life! And mine." The gold had faded from Theo's eyes. They could be the eyes of any scared kid, forever looking up from the ground.

"Stiles, it was self defense!" Theo protests. "I'm sure you are familiar with that."

That's not a jab. That couldn't possibly mean what it sounds like it means.

Stiles pushes himself to shaky feet and towards the door.

"What was that you were saying," Theo pesters after him. "About your mom? Was that what your memory was about? I remember you wearing long sleeve shirts a lot back in the fourth grade…"

His shoulders stiffen and make his gait clumsy, but he keeps moving. He's done with psychological trauma on this fucking roof.

"Did she used to beat you, Stiles?"

He's not thinking. He just spins around and grabs Theo by his collar. Stiles slams him into the wire fence, sparks still flying from the electrical unit.

"How about you just—" Stiles grinds out. "You just—"

There are actually a lot of things he wishes Theo would just do. Shut up, go away, quit messing with him and his friends. But he doesn't have the energy for all of that. He releases his hold.

"Fuck off, Theo," he mutters. He turns back to shamble inside.

"Stiles – wait."

Nothing Theo can say will make him wait.

"You can't say anything about this to Scott."

Actually. That is practically comical. Not the route he'd expected, not by a long shot. Over his shoulders, almost amused, he asks, "Why not?"

"Because I didn't say anything about Donovan."

That hits like a punch to the gut. Also very unexpected. But as the dark silence stretches on, Stiles isn't feeling tortured or saddened or scared or whatever Theo is probably hoping for. It's pretty ridiculous how much his life has tried to cast him as the victim lately, even just here on this exact fucking hospital roof, and he's getting pretty sick of it. The anger rises unexpectedly in his chest, and he's thinking he might do some more shoving.

The bubble fizzles out when Theo adds, "And because it was an accident. Just like you. I'll tell him. I just need some time. To deal with this. You understand."

Theo is not the person he wants to share this understanding with. But of course, goddamnit, he does understand. And since it seems like the overwhelming message in his life right now is that he is terrifyingly sociopathic, maybe he should try to practice some empathy for his fellow man.

Theo takes his silence as agreement. "Then you'll cover for me."

"I never said I would—" He's realizing too late that police sirens are wailing below and the color of the light has already been polluted by a swirling red-blue.

"I'll owe you one," Theo promises, and leaps from the roof into the darkness below.

The door crashes open, and there's Stiles, standing there like the stupidest deer to ever see headlights.

This is not where he wants to be.

But he spends the next hour and a half talking with the officers. Headley and Gutierrez are the first ones there, and they seem surprised to see him there, but also not too surprised either, you know?

When they ask him what happened, he says he doesn't know, he didn't see anything. He's still not sure why he lies. Maybe it's compassion. Or maybe lying is just what he does, now.

They ask him about the figure that witnesses saw peering over the edge after the body fell. Oh, right. He adds that there was someone here, a man, and Stiles came out just in time to see the end of the altercation, and then the guy disappeared.

Why did Stiles come up here in the first place? It was kind of a memorial thing. His mom spent a lot of time here at this hospital. Sometimes he comes up here and remembers…

You know what, he is really shaken up, it's honestly hard to remember clearly. He's in shock.

They get him a blanket because his teeth won't stop chattering.

His dad's on his way.

No thank you please, he'd really rather not if that's okay—

His dad is there.

Headley gives him a summary of Stiles' story, of why he was up there, something about his mother. His dad's eyes meet his only briefly before Stiles' red-rimmed ones break away. He is furiously looking anywhere, everywhere, except at his dad. Heat in his neck tells him he's actually embarrassed, he's guilty and ashamed to be up on this roof with his father but not for the reasons he should be feeling guilty right now. He feels like such a little kid.

Breath is hard to come by.

His dad takes him home.

It's the next day when Stiles really starts regretting his momentary lapse of judgment in deciding to lie for Theo.

Agent McCall (why is he still around?) is grilling him about it after deeming the sheriff too close to the situation. It's all bluster, though. The three of them talk it over together after the official interview.

"Why are you always wrapped up in these things, Stiles?" he asks.

"Just lucky that way," Stiles shrugs.

"He's always been good at finding trouble," the sheriff says.

"It finds me!" Stiles says, mock protesting, his mouth open in a wide grin. Your typical dad-son shtick. It's grotesque, how it fools so easily. Both of them have been practicing at being okay for a while now.

They didn't talk about any of it last night.

They don't.

The werewolves aren't much better. We're talking about a freaking true alpha here, and Stiles can fool him in a blink.

All it takes is one snappish comment to Malia – "Of course I seem stressed, is a parade of deadly chimeras not a big enough problem for you people?" – and the pack thinks they have the answer to his anxious scent all figured out.

And has he ever mentioned how freaking obnoxious and invasive it is of them to be smelling his mental state all the time? Just that idea alone is enough to set him on edge. A little emotional privacy, please. Thank God he's getting better at hiding it.

He's not dwelling on it, or anything, but it doesn't take too long to figure out that this is all bullshit.

The most reasonable explanation for Theo knowing about Donovan is that he sicced the chimera on him. The other option is, what, he happened to be in the completely locked and darkened library that night when it all went down? (Careful, no wincing at the expression.) But, sake of the argument, let's say it: Theo was there completely by coincidence. And then what? He just so compassionately decides to hide his superpowered werewolf ass instead of helping his childhood buddy avoid loss of limb and life? Not really something a true friend would do. And holding onto that information until he could use it as a bargaining chip somehow feels more like blackmail and extortion than a BFF pinky promise to secrecy.

And this response, this right here, is why Stiles is a bad person.

His mom could see it in him. Not even quite 10 years old yet, biggest concerns were homework assignments and budding crushes on certain stunning strawberry blonde geniuses, all leagues away from this supernatural world of grey decisions, from weighing the value of lives on a daily basis. She saw it in him even back then. She knew what'd he'd become. What he already was.

Scott is always calling on him to be a better person. Unwaveringly good, staunchly trusting, sweet, naïve Scott, whose darkest memory was of his dog dying.

Scott had told him about it, in the interest of information. Stiles had just mumbled something about his mom, and Scott knew he had plenty of trauma surrounding that and the hospital, so he left Stiles' memory unprodded. Which, again, just goes to show you how much of a better person Scott is. If the roles were flipped, Stiles would have been grilling him for details. Sure, it might hurt in the retelling, but any little bit of info could be important. But, kindness. Benefit of the doubt. These (and getting rid of that apparent look in his eyes that makes loved ones think he is trying to murder them), these are the kind of traits Stiles is trying to adopt.

So Theo gets a pass. For now. A probationary pass.

Plus, it's smart, right? It's just smarter to see what moves he makes next, because the guy is most definitely bad news with a nefarious plot tucked up his sleeve.

Or maybe the guy just has really bad "protective" instincts for his "friends." Benefit of the doubt. Yeah. That could make sense, too.

That's what he's going with until it happens again.

Of course this would happen, of course it would, because Theo is evil and Stiles fucking called it, and he is always right even when no one freaking listens to him ever.

Because somehow, a few days later, he finds himself getting called by a panicked Malia to come out to a club (to the roof of the club. Yeah. Seriously.) in the warehouse district. He gets there just in time to catch the tail end of a fight that ends with Theo breaking a kid's neck. It's not as quick or as smooth a motion as in the movies. It's still all much too fast for Stiles.

Stiles is pissed already, because, one, in what universe is it wise for these guys to take on baddies without him (case in freaking point!), and two, he really, really doesn't need to be seeing any more people dying this week, his damn quota has been filled, preferably for the next century or two.

That anger's got nothing on the rage he feels when they ask him to keep quiet for Theo.

"It was self defense, he had to. You saw what he did to Mason," Scott tells him, because, yes, Mason was there for some reason. Because Mason is somehow more integral to the pack's cohesiveness than Stiles. He's getting helped downstairs by Kira and Liam, shaking off his momentary loss of consciousness. Typical 'human member of the pack' stuff. He'd better get used to it.

Theo's still standing by the body, hamming up every overwrought, 'What have I done' cliché. It's all for Scott's benefit and boy is he ever buying it. His big brown puppy eyes are wide and watery.

"No, Scott," Stiles says. "Did he really 'have to?' We talked about this, like, less than a week ago and you gave me the 'saving people, no matter what' talk."

"Sometimes circumstances change."

"Really." The words tear out. "Is that what you think now?"

"Yes. And you do, too."

Stiles isn't prepared for the spasm that shakes him, his best friend's words sparking like a shock to his nervous system. His heart stumbles in its beating and he curses his body for its less than pristine control.

One glance to Scott and he realizes it's not a trap, or a set up. Scott's just trying to appeal to Stiles' better nature.

As if he still (ever) had one.

Malia is supporting Theo as he limps off the roof. His hand is resting more on her ass than her waist. He tosses a pained gaze back at them. "Thanks, Stiles. I'll owe you one."

Fuck. That. Guy.

But Scott's still looking at Stiles as though he's talking to an actual, compassionate, human being.

He hates to disappoint him.

"It's just, " Stiles says. "That yeah, I do have a hard time believing that it was all a big accident and he's really broken up about it when this is the second person he's murdered in front of me." 'This week,' he adds petulantly in his head.

"Because he killed that chimera at the hospital," Scott repeats his story slowly.

"Yes."

"And you were up there."

"Yes." Stiles' heart contracts a bit on the word. The reminder of what brought him up on the roof bites at him. Scott cocks his head a bit and Stiles wonders if the true alpha can distinguish between the sounds of a lying heart and a pained one.

"But why didn't you say anything before now?"

Even if Scott didn't hear his pulse before, he must be able to now. Stiles can freaking hear the thumps himself. It's one thing to keep it steady when casually deflecting and telling lies; being honest is a lot harder. He knew it would come up, and he knew he needed to finally tell the truth.

That didn't make it any easier to say.

"Because I killed Donovan. And I didn't want anybody to know."

Scott's shaking his head. "There was only one body—"

"Donovan was here, at the school. Tuesday night." They're sitting mere tables away from where it all went down. No pun intended. Stiles has to clear his throat to keep on. "His body disappeared, like, minutes after. Whoever it is that is stealing the bodies cleaned it all up."

"But why—"

"He said he was going to kill me." Stiles' voice ticks up at the end. It's his natural inclination to try to keep things light, make everything sound like a joke, but it just makes his statement sound like a question. "You know he had beef with my dad. So he came after me. I think he was part wendigo – what he actually said was he was going to eat me." The huff of air he lets out was supposed to be a laugh, but it's not sounding right, either.

'I didn't mean to kill him,' he wants to say. 'I was trying to get away, just buy enough time for a head start. I didn't mean it.' But that sounds childish, even to him. A little kid making excuses. So he swallows the words down and tries to own the responsibility.

Scott won't look at him. He's furrowing his brow, hard. His thinking face.

Stiles would rather he doesn't think so hard about this one. He tries to bring the conversation back on course. "I think Theo maybe sent him, that's how he knew about what happened." 'What I did,' he amends silently.

Scott's eyebrows dive down even farther. "I just don't get why Theo would do that."

"Because he's freaking evil!" Stiles says too loudly. A librarian arches his eyebrows in their direction, and Stiles hunches down in his seat.

"I know you think that," Scott hedges.

"And given everything that's happened, I think we have more than enough evidence to support that hypothesis!"

It's true. This isn't just gut instinct anymore. The asshole has most definitely murdered and lied about it. He is incontrovertibly a bad guy.

The fact that the same definition could be used on him doesn't even faze him anymore. (Mostly.)

That's not what's bothering him right now, anyway. It's the dawning realization that this proof isn't enough for Scott. It isn't proof, not to him. It's just Stiles' word. And Stiles' word is not enough.

"You don't believe me?" Stiles meant that one to be more of a statement, but his voice is still all weird and he's having a hard time believing this himself.

"You haven't trusted him since he showed up here. I know you want us all to hate him, too—"

He's whining but he can't help it. "I don't want you to hate him, I want you to believe me."

Scott sighs. "It just seems so convenient—"

Convenient. What a sentiment. It echoes in his ears. Convenient.

There's a bus stop right on your block? How convenient! You can microwave this delicious and nutritious dinner in just 3 minutes? How convenient for you! You murdered somebody? How convenient!

"I'm glad that someone finds it convenient, because I was starting to feel like carrying all these deaths on my conscience was getting to be a bit of a burden." Stiles stands, shoving his school things haphazardly into his backpack.

"All of these deaths? Stiles, what are you talking about?" Scott looks utterly bewildered. AKA, Scott looks the way he usually looks. It's a mean thought, but Stiles isn't feeling particularly charitable.

"Stiles, come on, man," Scott says, following a few steps behind Stiles as he storms out to the parking lot. "I didn't mean it like that."

Stiles doesn't break his stride as he spits, "No. What you meant was that I'm such a cold-hearted bastard that I'd rather take responsibility for a murder I didn't commit than be proven wrong about something."

He's reached his jeep. He wrenches the door open and throws his bag into the seat, popping the hood, too. It's gotten to the point that the engine needs a few well-placed raps before it'll start. He punches the duct tape harder than necessary.

"It's absolutely fucking heartwarming, how after all these years, you know me so well."

Stiles lets the hood crash down.

That night, his dad calls him from work and asks him to come to the station. Turns out, it's a formal summons.

"Some kid has a video on their phone of someone fleeing the scene of that last teenage murder. Someone who looks a lot like you, unless you've got an evil doppelganger out there." His dad goes white as he realizes what he just said as a joke could be the actual explanation. "You don't have an evil doppelganger out there, right?"

Stiles shrugs. "Not at the moment."

He's almost got to give Theo kudos for setting this all up so well. The guy is certainly keeping Stiles on his toes. Whatever his plan is, it's so convoluted that Stiles is having a hard time figuring it out and coming up with a counter-offensive. He's just going to have to try and do things Theo wouldn't expect, try not to play into his hand.

Stiles sighs, because that doesn't exactly leave him with the most palatable of options.

He insists on talking to someone not affiliated with his dad's station.

The worst part is watching panic deepen the lines on his dad's face as he realizes that his son is about to do something very stupid.

The other worst part (it's a very high-suck-level situation, there can be more than one worst) is how much it hurts a boy who runs with wolves to be left without a pack.

But there's also the general horribleness of sterile interrogation rooms and the kiss of handcuffs on his wrists. The too much time spent staring at off-white walls, trapped in his thoughts. There's the humorless-ness of the officer who questions him. The guy's pasty clinical seriousness does not mesh well with Stiles' flippant attitude.

Which, yeah, he shouldn't have, but disrespect for authority (or just anyone he doesn't like) is baked into Stiles' very nature. He is done with resisting his nature at this point. (Sorry, Mom, it looks like you were right.) Maybe the actual worst thing is that – that while everyone else was doubting his instincts, he doubted himself, too.

When Officer McBland-Face asks him why he covered things up for Theo (apparently, the blackmailing answer is just not enough for them. Evidentially, for the literal first time in his life, Stiles has too innocent of a face for anyone to believe he did anything wrong. So he gets to spend hours and hours trying to convince people that he murdered Donovan, and, you guessed it, that's a real hoot and a half), Stiles says the other honest answer – that he was frightened by what Theo might do if he didn't keep his mouth shut.

The cop needs convincing on that, too. "This young man intimidates you, Stiles?"

This should not be a hard concept to grasp. "Yes, yes he does. So far he's killed at least two teenagers, that is a pretty impressive resume."

"Is killing people something you find impressive, Stiles?"

It's finally happened. He has found a law enforcement officer even more frustrating than Agent McCall. Stiles can only facepalm – or he would, if his hands weren't chained to the table.

It turns out that that's what the police are the most worried about, though. They think his testimony is less of an eyewitness account and more the bonkers fantasy ramblings of a wackjob kid who is overly interested in crime and death. Take out 'fantasy,' and Stiles would say the definition is spot on.

They don't believe he killed anyone. No body, no crime scene, no murder. But they still think he's dangerous, and once again, Stiles in inclined to agree.

He still can't help but kick and scream as they lock him in his room at Eichen House.

The pack doesn't come to visit, but the Doctors do.

A/N: This is a oneshot, unless something comes along and changes my mind. I wrote it before 5x07 but didn't get the chance to publish it, and then I thought that I could retool it into something as the season when on, but after that breakup scene, I don't see there being more to add to this. This whole season I saw Stiles as being bubbling with rage (see^ that whole story I just wrote) but all I can see now is him being really really sad. These boys are better when they have each other :/