Sometimes Stiles couldn't help but feel like he was cursed. Everyone around him was finding their soulmates. First Lydia and Jackson, now Scott and Kira. He was happy for them, really he was (except for Jackson. Stiles still thought that he was an asshat), but now Stiles was hitting twenty-two and he was growing impatient. He sometimes wondered whose great idea it was to have the first words your soulmate says to you written on your wrists. Every time he looked down at his wrists and see those words etched in neat, black, cursive he would wonder what kind of person his soulmate would be.

People would try console him and tell him that he'll find his soulmate eventually and that he had the rest of his life to find the person, to try to not worry about it too much. He hated that. Everyone else was falling head over heels for each other and there wasn't much he could do. What's the point of dating someone if you know it won't last?

Life really sucked sometimes.

He didn't know if it was a blessing or another curse, but in the past year because everyone started to do their own thing, he and Peter Hale of all people became friends. Well, more than friends on some occasions, but regardless they started to hang out more and Stiles decided that he wasn't a terrible guy. They would play chess, or watch movies, or bicker over books. Peter even lent Stiles a few interesting mythology and magic books. It was actually a really nice partnership they had formed.

Which is exactly why he now standing in the middle of the woods really late at night looking for some witch. There had been a lot of disappearances happening in the past few days and although Stiles usually tried to stay out of the supernatural game now a days, he couldn't help himself this one time because witches and magic. Surprisingly it was something he hadn't dealt with that much before. So he bribed Peter with some Reeses and the two of them researched the hell out of everything that was occurring which led them to the woods where the witches were most likely planning some ritual that would destroy the city… or something like that.

"Why am I here?" Peter asked as they made their way through the forest.

Stiles rolled his eyes and then looked at his phone. "Because I need my big, strong, protector."

Peter chuckled. He was about to say something but right as he opened his mouth and arrow came whizzing by only missing him by less than inch. Stiles jumped at the oncoming attack and looked around frantically. Crazy hunters were not part of the plan.

Peter immediately wolfed out. Bright, icy, blue eyes shining through the dark. Fangs, claws, sideburns, the whole nine yards. Stiles just wished he would've brought his baseball bat.

"Run!" Peter growled and Stiles didn't need to be told twice. More arrows came flying through the air. He was running faster than he thought he was capable of. He didn't want to look back, he hoped and possibly knew that Peter could take care of himself.

He was almost out of the woods. He could see his trusty Jeep in the distance, but he came to a halt once he heard a painful howl behind him. Something in Stiles sank, he suddenly was flooded with sadness and worry. Before he knew it he was making his way back into the forest in hopes of finding Peter. He put thoughts of hunters aside and kept running until saw Peter, laying on the ground, with blood all around him. It looked like three arrows had struck him, one in the heart, one in the collarbone area, and one in the shoulder.

"Shit! You can't die! Why aren't you healing?"" Stiles said rushing to his side. He still had no idea where the hunters were, but he didn't really care. Peter was much more important now.

"Wolfesbane arrows. I think poisoned too. Not sure though." Peter said weakly.

"There has to be something I can do." Stiles' voice cracked. Years ago he probably wouldn't have shed a tear about Peter dying, hell he's the one who killed him the first time, but now things were different. Now, Stiles was thinking he loved Peter.

Peter seemed to ignore him in favor of looking up at the stars. He began to close eyes almost as if he was going to sleep but Stiles knew better. "I'll see you around, brat."

Stiles froze in place, not only because Peter was no longer breathing and Stiles was almost sure that the man had just died, but because of what was written on his wrist.

Those five words.