I Do Not Own Teen Wolf.
When Stiles was only three or four years old his mother had taken him to visit his grandmother in Germany. He had been so excited at the time they couldn't stop his little toddler body. They had all their bags packed and ready to go by the time they were supposed to leave. Just him and his mother since his dad had to stay behind to work.
His dad had driven them to the airport and held Stiles' struggling body while walking to the terminal. It had been planned they would stay for about two weeks, three if they could. His oma, his grandma, had started getting older and was having a harder time taking care of herself. So Lillith Stilinski said she would come and help out as much as she could.
Stiles had so much fun on the plane. All the flight attendants had talked to him and treated him like a big boy. He had been so happy. His mother laughed every time one of the attendants came over to talk with him.
Then the plane ride was over and they were taking a cab to the edge of the forest, the Black Forest, where his oma lived. They stayed for the two weeks, and then an extra because his mom hadn't wanted to leave just yet. It had been a long time since she had seen her mother. Stiles learned a fair amount of German from the three weeks, since he was still young and learning English properly. Plus his mother often spoke the language around the house, mixing both languages quite often.
Stiles and his mom were just about ready to head home, they would be leaving the next day. Except that was when his mother had collapsed and they had to take her to the nearby hospital. It turned out she had non-Hodgkin lymphoma, a type of cancer that formed tumors in the white blood cells. Stiles still remembers being a little boy and waiting with his oma for his mother to get out of the ICU. He still had nightmares.
So instead of going home the two had stayed in Germany for the next few years. It wasn't safe for his mother to travel, she wasn't healthy enough. His father would come up to visit as often as he could but it was always impossible for him to move up, even though the sheriff wanted to be with his wife as much as possible. The department rarely gave him time off and always came up with new "cases" for him.
By the time Stiles was eight his mother was doing much better and was able to move around more. The chemo sessions had taken care of much of the cancer and she was even gaining back her weight. The held off on going back to the states for the next few months, since Lillith really wanted to go home. Even if Germany was now a home for the two Stilinskis.
It came time that Lillith was healthy enough to travel back to California, and the two had been packed, had said their goodbyes to the neighborhood and had even had the plane booked. That was when the cancer came back and hit harder. This time his mother lost weight at an increasing rate, got sicker and paler. Though, again, the sessions seemed to work.
This was a miracle seeing as the doctors hadn't even given her three years to live. She should be dead, they all told them. Lillith had always been a strong woman. She defied what the doctors had told the family, had kept fighting even though she had just wanted to give up.
And she had a few more cancer free years. Still she was far too weak to travel, the cancer having taken far too much out of her.
It hit again. This time far too strong for even the hard headed Stilinski to fight off. She got weaker and weaker, Stiles always taking care of her and after her. Being strong since his mother couldn't. He took care of his oma too. He was only thirteen at the worst point of the cancer.
Now he had just turned fifteen, and his mother could no longer handle the strain on her tiny body. She held Stiles' hand tightly as her breaths grew shorter, her body shaking harder, skin growing paler by the second. Lillith died in her son's arms that night. Hot tears beat down on her cooling flesh as he held his mother. Stiles' grandmother sat on the other side of the hospital bed crying loudly. The sheriff having just entered the room from getting some coffee was crying as well.
There was a small funeral held in her honor. She was buried at the edge of the forest, in a small clearing she used to play in as a child. White roses lay on the ground in front of the gravestone as the Stilinskis sat before it asking why Lillith had been taken from their lives.
That had been two years ago this day. Stiles had stayed in Germany those last two years to help take care of his oma. Even though the sheriff begged to have his son come back with him, the boy had refused, saying this country was his home now and he wouldn't go back until he had to. He loved the forest too much, loved the people that surrounded him, loved his mother's memory. Even if many of them were sad and made his heart ache.
He was now seventeen, grown and brilliant. Handsome as ever. A thick German accent taking place of the slight American one he had had as a child. The language of this country fell of his lips with no difficulties, as did English. He just preferred German. It was nicer sounding to his ears, made more sense.
And at seventeen he had to watch the next most important woman in his life die. At eighty-seven years old he watched as his oma took her last breath and peacefully died in her sleep. As much as he wanted to cry, he was able to hold in the salty drops this time.
Now, with no one left but his friends here, he was forced to move with into his father's home on the west coast of the States. It was warmer in the winter months, not quite as clean as the forest air he had grown up around (despite the woods that surrounded the small town) but most importantly, it wasn't home.
Here he was, seventeen years old, a German boy in a country he cared little about. No friends, only a father to keep him company and talk to.
He was alone, so very alone and he wished to be home again. This town was a pathetic imitation of where he grew up. But he would have to get used to it since this would be his home from now on. Stiles had no say in where he lived any longer.
No longer was he part of the Black Forest, or the city of Freiburg, or his small town that lived on the edge of that city. Stiles had just gotten to his father's home and already he was home sick. The bedroom he was given didn't feel right, the bed to hard, the sheets without the smell of his home.
It was all too strange, not right, not home. It would never be home, and no matter how much he said this it would never be enough.
And what made matters worse wasn't that he wasn't home it was because he was without he friends. The friends he could run around in the forest with. The friends that didn't care about his odd habits, or his researching quirk, or the fact he wasn't as interest in girls as he should be. He wouldn't get to see the glowing eyes of the family that wasn't his by blood. Or the way they would all gather up in a pile and sleep.
He had been gone for a just over a day and he couldn't smell them on his clothes. And this room didn't smell like them. Didn't smell like family. Didn't feel comfortable. Didn't feel right.
Stiles knew there was something about Beacon Hills that was familiar, but he just couldn't quite place it yet. It was so familiar, but so wrong. He could feel it against his skin, could sense it when his dad drove through town.
But, what exactly was it he was thinking of?
Well hello everyone. I started the Derek/Stiles German AU. I wanted to make this chapter longer but it really was only like a prologue. In a way. Because I needed to get Stiles in Beacon Hills and blah blah blah. And since Stiles lived right at the edge of the Black Forest I'm going to have him know more about things than he should. Because you know, the Grimm Fairytales are known around the Black Forest. I believe.
Excuse the mistakes since it's late for me and I have school in the morning. I tried to fix the typos. So if there are a lot of mistakes, just point them out and I'll get them fixed as soon as I'm not über lazy.
Title is total bullshit since I couldn't think of anything.
Oma means Grandma in German.