I'm new to FF and this plot has been running around in my head for days! I hope you enjoy it.
Summary: Stiles life is back on track, the pack is happy, his life is happy, everything is good for once. Until it isn't again. Stile's life comes tumbling down when a fire destroys his home and the last of his family. Can the pack pull Stiles back from the edge, or will he plunge into something even they can't save him from?
Warnings: Slow-burn Sterek. Character death. Possible M/M smut later. Some dark themes. More detailed warnings will be given in AN's if they're going to appear in a specific chapter.
'Best birthday ever!' Erica practically squeals from the back of Derek's camaro, cuddling into Boyd's side while Stiles grins at them from the passenger seat. They'd been at the Hale house celebrating Erica's 18th birthday all day, they'd watched so many movies and eaten too much junk food and there was even beer in the 'fridge when they finally ran out of take-out and started raiding the kitchen. Erica had been ecstatic that people had remembered, that it was an important occasion for once, and therefore rode around with Derek while he dropped the others off at home in order to continuously thank them for being there.
The others now just consisted of Stiles, who was singing along to some silly pop song on the radio and grinning at Erica in the backseat. He's distracted and happy and finally feels like some kind of normality and safety is descending on them at last. It's been a year of monsters, of pain and heartbreak and loss. That was over now though, they could celebrate birthdays and throw parties and let training go just a little bit, because everything was better now.
'Hey, Stiles?' Erica sings, pulling him from his thoughts.
'Yep?' He turns back to face her, happy that she's still happy.
'Thanks for getting everyone together today. It was good.' Stiles blushes, Derek must have told her sometime during the day that it had been Stile's idea to finally just let go and have fun for once.
'It's nothing, I'm glad you had fun.' Stiles replies, watching her as she snuggled further into Boyd's warmth.
'It wasn't nothing, I've never celebrated my birthday before. So just be quiet and accept the thanks. Okay?' Stiles just laughs and nods. It's been such a normal day, if you could count trying to beat werewolves at twister and laughing at the inconsistencies about wolves in as many werewolf movies Stiles could find with actual werewolves in the vicinity, normal. So normal, in fact, that they've let their guard down. They're not watching as closely as they should be, their senses aren't as heightened as they have been over the past year. It's Stiles only excuse really, that he brought it on himself with all of his normality and happiness, because of course, something has to go wrong.
He doesn't realise at first, none of them do. They're parked outside of his house, laughing and saying goodbye. Erica has leaned over to kiss Stile's cheek before he gets out of the car, and he opens the door slowly because she has a grip on his wrist and is telling him they have to party again some time soon. It's not until he's finally been released and is halfway out of the car when someone finally grasps something is wrong.
It's Boyd, his nose twitches, and then he pulls away from Erica and leans towards the open door, a hand reaching out to grab Stiles' forearm.
'Can anyone else smell that?' He asks quietly, scenting the air. Stiles just watches as the other two wolves sniff the air gently, doesn't realise that he's taking in deeper sniffs too, trying to find what they'd found.
'Is that.. Is something burning?' Stiles wrinkles his nose and turns towards the three wolves in the car. They're all flickering between the house they're parked in front of and Stiles, horrified expressions on their face. Stiles turns slowly, not quite sure what to expect when he finally found what they were staring at.
There's smoke coming from the back of the house, plumes and plumes of black smoke that makes it impossible to see the tree's lining the back of the Stilinski property. It's bad enough that he can see that, but he can also see the yellow-orange-red of flames flickering in the kitchen, in his bedroom, and then there's a darker flash of something running past the window of the landing.
'Dad.' Stiles gasps, shaking off Boyd's hand and throwing himself out of the car. He stumbles, slips to his knee's, but then he's up again and running towards his house, screaming for his father.
'Stiles, stop!' Erica screeches from behind him, but he doesn't care. His dad is in the house and it's burning. God, his house is burning! This can not be happening, he has to get in there, get his dad, get the memories of his mother before they're eaten away by heat and flame.
But he's not quick enough, because there are suddenly arms around him, one around his waist, one over his chest, others running over his arms and wrists and torso.
'Stiles, you can't go in there! Damn it Stiles stop fighting, stop fighting, you'll die if you go in there!' It's Erica again, and she has her hands on either side of his face, trying to make her concentrate on her, but he can't. His freaking dad is inside that house, he's going to die if Stiles doesn't even try. So he keeps kicking and screaming and fighting. Time is slowing down, he's watching as his entire house begins to creak and shake and fall apart and his father is still in there! The house is collapsing and burning around him and these stupid goddamn wolves won't let him go.
'Stop it! Let me go, let me go! My dad is in there. Dad!' Stiles screams desperately. 'Dad please! Dad!' He's hardly focusing on anything else around him until he heard Boyd whispering hurriedly to Derek.
'Derek, we have to move. They have a propane generator at the back of the house and if the fire..' Stiles tunes out at that, because as much as he's pretty sure his dad wouldn't survive burning hot fires, he sure as hell wasn't going to survive a propane explosion. The others are suddenly pushing and pulling and restricting his movements a hell of a lot more than they already were, they're babbling nonsense about having to move and it being too late.
'We have to try!' Stiles screams. 'That's my dad, my house! We have to try!' He knows he sounds hysterical, and he's screaming for his father. He's sure he must be close to the door now, close to getting out, close to being safe and free. Stile's is sure he see's the door handle turn and his dad start to step out but then everything is orange and bright and hot.
'Derek the tank!' Boyd shouts over the sound of the explosion, and Stiles just stops fighting.
Stiles stops moving, stops screaming, stops everything. His dad was in the doorway, so close. So close, but not enough. Now he was gone, he was gone in a ball of fire and heat and pain and there wasn't a single thing he could do other than go limp in Derek's arms and let the others move him away.
Stiles has been sat still a very long time. Or at least, it feels like a very long time. He's on his knee's by the curb, a little away from Derek's car, close enough still to his house that he can still feel the heat. Someone still has their arms around him, rocking him gently.
'-iles.. Hey, Stiles? Come on, sweetie, focus. Stiles!' Erica is suddenly in his face, worry and anguish painted over her usually happy or sarcastic expression. Stiles shakes his head lightly, tries to pulls air into his lungs but he can't. He can't breath. He can hear himself wheezing and there's a high pitched keening sound coming from somewhere deep inside him, and then suddenly the arms around him move and he's being turned, being cradled into someone's hard body.
'Shh, Stiles. Come one, breath with me. In..' The chest he's against expands, Stile's own chest finally fills with air. 'Exhale.' Stiles keeps following the instructions of Mr. Cuddly until he's breathing again.
Then he starts to laugh, because Mr. Cuddly is Derek. Derek is cuddling him and breathing with him and he's just called him Mr. Cuddly in his head and for some reason that's freaking hilarious. It's hilarious as he looks up to see Derek's pained, concerned face, when he looks around at Boyd and Erica and the people that are now swarming the street. It's hilarious, until he looks back at the house.
Then, it's not so hilarious. Nothing is, and there are tears suddenly falling down his face, his body is shaking and twitching and he's grasping at Derek's shirt desperately.
'He's dead.' Stile's wheezes out. 'He's dead, my dad's dead. He's dead.' He keeps repeating it over and over until instead he's just gone back to screaming, and Derek is rocking him and Erica is petting his hair and whispering things he doesn't understand, things that don't matter. Because Stiles has just lost the last bit of family he had left.
What else could possibly matter right now.
At some point, there must have been a fire engine, and ambulance, a trip to the hospital, doctors and nurses and sedatives. Stiles doesn't remember though, he doesn't remember how he got here or why he's lying on this hospital bed, or why a very tired and worried looking Derek Hale is slouched in the recliner beside him.
All he knows is that his dad is dead, his house is gone, and Stiles is completely alone.
Sometimes during the screaming and the crying and the clinging to Derek, someone had slipped him something to help him sleep, and he'd woken up here. There's an IV dripping clear fluids into his arm, and Derek is watching him intently as Stile's eyes float aimlessly around the room until they land on it.
'You were going into shock, you needed the fluids to help you not get worse.' Derek whispers to him, but Stiles doesn't react, just pulls his eyes away and stares up at the ceiling.
'My dad's dead.' Stiles says quietly, and his voice is void of any emotion, any pain or sorrow or anger. It's empty and cold. It's not a question, it's a statement.
'I know.' Derek whispers in reply. 'I know, and I'm so sorry Stiles.' Derek reaches out to put a hand on Stiles arm but he flinches away.
'If you'd let me go, I could have saved him.' Stile's voice is still cold, still empty.
'You would have died, Stiles.' Derek replies gently, watching Stiles intently for any imminent breakdown. Stiles is pretty sure that Derek would take that over this nothingness, but he's not going to get that. Stiles it too empty, too numb, too tired to freak out anymore.
'I don't care.' Is all Stiles says, and with a sigh he turns away from Derek and scrunches his eyes shut tightly, hoping maybe that will help keep the images of his house exploding away for a little while.
Derek doesn't say anything else, just sits there quietly until someone else comes into the room and they swap places. Like they're sentry watching him. This person smells like cookies and sunshine, good things, things that don't belong in this room with him. It's Lydia, Lydia is sitting watching over him and he should care about that, but he doesn't. The same way he doesn't care when the watch changes again a few hours later and it's Allison..
Boyd.
Isaac.
Scott.
Erica.
Jackson.
Danny.
Derek.
By the time Derek comes back for his watch, he's being released into Melissa McCall's care. She's given him some of Scott's clothes to change into, given that all of his were lost when his house burn to nothing. Derek comes in looking slightly less haggard, but Stiles doesn't even acknowledge him, same as he hasn't for any of the others. He hasn't said a single word since he spoke to Derek this morning. He didn't feel the need to. There were no words for this, so he wouldn't try. What was the point in trying if it would yield nothing anyway? He'd tried to fight against the wolves, his dad had still died. He'd screamed a cried and been held, he still hurt.
Stiles knows people are worried about him. He knows they want him to talk, say anything, fill the silence like he usually does. They want him to twitch because he hasn't taken his Adderall, they want him to cry and scream and become hysterical again. But he can't. He's tired.
His dad is dead.
His house is gone.
He's alone.
So Stiles says nothing, not to Scott or Ms. McCall, not to Derek. Not to the offer of food, a shower, a bed. He just takes what's offered, nods his head noncommittally and then leaves to do whatever they suggest.
It's the best he can do right now, so they're going to have to deal with it. It's their fault his dad is dead and Stiles is still alive right now, so they can suffer like he is.
He doesn't care anymore.