Stiles stumbled into the dark alley, clutching at his bleeding shoulder. He could hear the wolves growling behind him, their angry snarls and howls of pain were almost deafening. Stiles needed to get back to Scott's pack, he had to help them, they were outnumbered three to one and without his help…he didn't want to think about it, but the deep claw marks on his left shoulder throbbed, the pain was indescribable. His blue Captain America t-shirt was soaked through with coppery blood and the side of his neck and hands were stained with the red liquid, still warm and sticky to the touch. Stiles rested his hand against the cool surface of the brick wall. His body ached with a deep pain he hasn't felt in so long.
Stiles knew he needed to get back to the pack, knew he needed to help but he also knew that he would do more harm than good. The wolves would be too busy trying to keep him safe and not enough time watching their own furry behinds.
He cast one last long glance over his shoulder at the mouth of the alley, he could still make out Derek's hulking form slashing at the rogue wolves that had invaded Beacon Hills territory. Before Stiles could change his mind and rush back to the pack a rough hand grabbed his arm. He instinctively tried to pry his arm from the tight grip. Stiles thrashed around, throwing his arms out, trying to attack the dark figure looming over him but he didn't have the strength left in him to do any damage. Right now he was about as threatening as a five-year-old throwing a tantrum.
Another pair of arms grabbed him from behind, pinning his arms to his sides. Stiles tried to struggle, tried to throw his head back and headbutt the asshole who had grabbed him but his wild movements sent waves of pain through his shoulder and side- he was sure there was another set of claw marks across his ribs but until now he hadn't noticed the pain. The man behind him tightened his grip. His thick, beefy arms felt like they were pressing down on his chest, forcing the breath out of his abused lungs.
The first man roughly pushed Stiles head to the side, exposing the pale expanse of his neck. "Stop," he managed to croak out but was rewarded with a breathless laugh and a rough tug to his hair. He knew what was coming even before the cold tip of the needle pressed against his heated flesh. The cold liquid zapped what little strength he had left. His body felt like jelly and even with the voice in his head screaming at him to get up and fight, he couldn't, even keeping his eyes open was a task he couldn't quite manage. The last thing he saw through the bleak darkness was a familiar pair of glowing golden eyes-Isaac.
3 days prior.
Scott and the rest of his little rag tag group of fur balls have been acting strange, well stranger than usual. Over the past week, it feels like they've been freezing him out. Whenever Stiles walks into a room all conversation stops and they just stare at him like how dare this puny human approach us in such a civilized manner and if that wasn't bad enough last week he and Scott were meant to have a guys night, play Halo and eat enough pizza to re-sink the Titanic but he was left sitting in Scott's room for three hours, at first he thought maybe his little werewolf buddy was running late or Deaton was making him work late, but when Melissa got home from her shift she looked surprised to see him and asked why he wasn't at the pack meeting at Derek's. That right there hit home. Stiles didn't care that he was the pack human or that he was often the 8th wheel to their little supernatural party but it just plain hurt that his best friend 'forgot' to invite him to pack night, which might he add was his idea! Getting together as a pack and bonding had been his idea and now he's not even invited to that.
Stiles stopped, his fork which was piled high with curly fries stopped halfway to his mouth. He just realized something- They're kicking him out, sure it was a thought before but now that he really thinks about it, it makes sense. They really have gone above and beyond to make sure he knows that he's no longer welcome in the pack. Did all those sleepless nights Stiles spent researching the newest big bad while he was as high as a kite on Adderall mean nothing? Or all the times he's saved their lives? Maybe holding up an Alpha werewolf for 2 hours in several feet of freezing water while a half lizard man hisses and claws at you from the edge of the pool means absolutely nothing, and maybe coaching your best friend through his first full moon (which neither of you knew anything about) is somehow meaningless and unimportant.
But whatever, it's not like they completely ditched him to eat lunch alone at their table while they eat somewhere else laughing like a bunch of idiots. Oh, wait they did! They're sitting two tables over with the lacrosse team, laughing obnoxiously about some stunt Greenberg pulled that pissed Coach off. All the while little Stiles is sitting at the same table that he and Scott claimed as theirs on their first day of Sophomore year. "Stiles?" His head snapped up. He had been so lost in thought he hadn't noticed Danny was trying to get his attention.
"Hey Dano, Danny boy-"
"Why are you sitting here by yourself? I thought you'd be celebrating with Scott."
"Celebrating what? Scott's rise to fame or the fact that he got rid of the pathetic, spastic kid who can't sit still." He spat. Stiles didn't mean to snap at the other teen but he was just so frustrated and angry and Danny just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Danny placed his empty lunch tray down opposite Stiles and regarded him with a look he could only explain as the same look he gets when he presents his dad with a Tofu burger- disbelief and thinly veiled horror. "Wha-I-I wouldn't call you pathetic or a spastic," he frowned, his forehead scrunching in a very un-Danny like manner, it wasn't like him to stutter either. "But-I…was talking about Scott becoming captain?" Of course, Scott made captain, is it too hard for him not to use his freaky little werewolf shit and give us lowly humans a chance? It wasn't fair. Stiles doesn't use his abilities to further himself in school and life and yet the wolves do- granted they don't know that he isn't exactly human but still, it's the principle of the matter! "I didn't know he was," Stiles started, much calmer this time, "I'm not on the team, remember Danny boy."
Stiles turned his attention back to his food. He pushed around the few curly fries that he hadn't mercilessly destroyed and smeared a dollop of ketchup through the leafy greens nestled on the edge of his plate, which he's has been trying to avoid since sitting down. "You're not the only one who didn't make it onto the team." That had Stiles head snapping to attention. Danny, the Danny, nice guy extraordinaire, guy who has never said a mean thing in his entire life and goalie since Sophomore year didn't make it onto the team? God, it didn't even cross his mind that he wasn't the only one who got cut. "But you're Danny!" he exclaimed, like it explained everything, "How could you-I don't-That's like-" he was grasping at straws. For once in his life, Stiles just didn't know what to say. His arms were flapping around like he could just pull words out of the air.
"It doesn't really matter," Danny shrugged, "I'll make the team again next year. You still didn't answer my question though, why aren't you sitting with Scott?"
"I'd rather not sit with a bunch of assholes who look at me like I'm not even worthy of being a smear of shit on the bottom of their shoes. I've been through enough crap these past few months to last me a lifetime," he gestured to the still healing bruises marrying his red blotched face, "and it's all because of him, because Scott can't keep his nose out of everyone else' business and instead of him paying the price for it poor Stiles gets the shit beaten out of him and perfect Scotty over there walks away like nothing happened and the worlds all sunshine and fucking rainbows! Yeah, well everything's not alright you ass hole!" Stiles could feel his hands violently shaking where they were resting against the top of the cafeteria table. The tips of his fingers tingled with energy and his heart fluttered at the idea of making Scott pay. Deep down he knew he would get in trouble later but right now he didn't care. With a small flick of his wrist, the lacrosse stick which had been leaning against the side of the table by Scott shifted and with enough force to crack open a humans skull, smacked against the back of the werewolves head.
Stiles couldn't suppress his smirk as a loud bang echoed through out the busy cafeteria. Everyone stopped to stare at Scott, watching as he clutched the back of his head in agony. "What the hell was that?" Danny asked but Stiles ignored him in favor of stuffing his remaining curly fries into his mouth, his appetite suddenly returned.
His phone vibrated in his back pocket, probably a warning not to use his powers again. The stupid chip in his arm sends off a signal to his 'case manager' (or as Stiles calls him- secret government dude) every time he uses his powers. It's to ensure he doesn't do something like rob a bank or murder someone- although right now it was awfully tempting. Stiles ignored his phone and kept shoveling food into his mouth, even after Danny excused himself to check on Scott- cause he's just that nice of a guy.
If the pack wants to kick him out and pretend that he hasn't on more than one occasion nearly given his life for them well then so be it but they better be prepared to get kicked back because Stiles may be small and not as physically strong as the wolves but he's not human and he's not weak.
Stiles slowly stood from his seat and slung his backpack over his shoulder, suppressing a winch when it knocked against the still healing bruises that took up the majority of his back. He looked up, meeting Scott's gaze across the cafeteria and smirked.
Bring it on Scotty.