Authors note:

Ok, so this is a teen wolf story set right after Erica's death. Things will most likely NOT follow the exact story line , however some things will be similar. Everything in seasons one and two did happen, however in this story Stiles and Scott are sophomores while Stiles's sister is a junior- adjust everyone else's ages to this accordingly. So they are a little younger here- not that that would change anything for y'all. Stiles's mom (in this story) is not all puppies and rainbows and unicorn hair like she was inferred to be in the TV show. She is a druggie that physiologically abused Stiles's sister.

* just for clarification- I am not sure about pairings for this story. There may be multiple or none at all *

Send me reviews and suggestions if there is anything you want to see happen- thanks for reading!

-v-

Stiles stepped into the cool Sunday-morning air, standing outside the skeleton of what used to be the Hale family home. He had long ago gotten used to the broken boards, and blackened wood that had become the packs den.

The air was thick with regret inside the burnt relic, where everyone was sitting around on various furniture, mourning the death of Erica.

Erica had been a werewolf. A teenage werewolf, young and strong. He found it ironic that even though she had been an almost unkillable being, she had died brutally at the hands of the alpha pack. Had she stayed a normal human (like himself) she would probably still be alive. Not slaughtered like a wounded gazelle thrown to hungry lions. She would have lived to a ripe old age without the supernatural there to haunt her.

He shivered at the cold, stinging like needles in his lungs as he inhaled. The icy wind almost hurt, and he embraced its torturous treatment. Standing outside as long as he could bear, he then turned around, walking back into the hellish atmosphere that awaited him.

He opened the door cautiously and peered inside.

Allison was leaning on a far off wall, while Scott was sitting in the love-seat. He kept throwing her glances that said he wanted her to sit next to him- something that obviously wasn't going to happen.

Isaac was leaning on the back of the couch, an emotional crutch for Boyd, should the man need him. Boyd looked almost dead as he sat on the worn blue sofa, Derek's hands offering a comforting weight to the beta's shoulders from behind. Cora, Derek's surprisingly not-dead younger sister, was nowhere to be found.

The room was so quiet that even Stiles's too-human ears could have picked up the sound of a mouse's pattering paws upstairs- that is if the pack hadn't scared all wildlife within a 2-mile radius away with their predatory presence.

"Ok, so whats the plan? Are we just going to sit around and wait for them to come to us, or are we bringing the party to them?" he asked eventually, his ADHD not able to handle the silence any longer.

Derek stood up, "Peter and I will talk about it tonight, and we'll all go over the plan tomorrow."

"Wait a minute," Scott butted in,"don't you think we need to do it now? The alphas-"

"I think they've accomplished what they wanted. For now go home, go to school. Keep an eye on the twins there, but don't start shit," Derek's words left no room for argument, and Isaac scowled.

Scott nodded, a little warily, at the leather-clad leader. Allison suddenly got up, no longer feeling the need to stay, and walked out the door. Stiles and Scott watched out the window as they saw the archer's shiny black car speed away.

Stiles was conflicted, he didn't want to go home where his Dad was undoubtebly waiting to scold him, but he also didn't want to stay with the irritable and emotionally unstable werewolf's. Choosing what seemed to be the less life-threatening option, he opted to wave goodbye and walk out the door to his baby blue jeep, Scott tagging along behind him for a ride home.

-v-

After dropping off Scott, Stiles seemed to be at his house in no time as he pulled up into the Stilinski home driveway. As he turned the key, shutting off the ignition, his thoughts wondered to Heather.

Their hot kisses and eager embrace had been so mind-blowing that it was almost like a dream. He had been disappointed (what hormonal teenage boy wouldn't have been?) but not surprised when he had come back down to the basement and discovered her gone. After all, fate was not usually on his side, especially when it came to women.

Stiles leaned his head back against his seat, giving a depressed moan. Even if he had walked away a virgin that night, it was the only make-out session that he had ever had- save from the ones in his imagination. And he was going to keep the memory stowed away in the back on his mind for later use.

As the air in the car began to get uncomfortably warm with the morning sun, Stiles finally resigned to get out of the car and face his father's wrath. He had stayed out all night, and while his Dad hadn't said much about his questionable and/or delinquent actions as of late, he knew it was only because most nights the police man wasn't home. His Dad was going to do one of two things when he walked in. 1) Blow a gasket. Or 2) give him a 'I'm-very-disappointed-in-you-stare' that would make Stiles feel guilty enough that he was going wish his dad wouldblow a gasket.

Mentally preparing himself for the worst, he turned his key in the door and twisted the handle, walking in. The air inside smelt of his dad's after shave, lavender scented carpet cleaner, cinnamon and a barley noticeable aroma of whiskey.

It was a nice combination he realized. He also realized it didn't normally smell like this, and was forced to analyze the scents again, picking out which one was out of place. After a few minutes of sticking his nose in the air like a hound dog, he picked up the sweet smell of cinnamon again. He looked around- there were at least 5 candles lit around the house, and he hadn't even checked the upstairs yet. They were the kind of candles that had two scents layered in them. The top section of wax held an apple cinnamon fragrance, while the second section of wax was vanilla.

He wondered why his Dad had bought candles. Its not like there were girls around the house to ca-

Stiles whole brain shut down for about two seconds before a light bulb popped up brightly and exploded imaginary glass shards above his head.

Dad would only care about the smell of the house if a woman was coming over

Which meant that Dad had met someone

Which holy shit that meant he was over Mom!

Stiles was over joyed at the notion and his impossibly big smile felt like it was going to break his face- not that he would have minded at the moment.

His Dad chose this exact moment to come padding down the stairs. Already dressed in his work clothes.

Stiles was practically vibrating with excitement, and his Dad noticed.

"…Have you taken your Adderal yet?" the sherif asked, mistaking his sons jitters for his ADHD (which was only a small part of it).

"Nope!" Stiles chimed, walking into the kitchen towards the medicine cabinet. He reached in to grab the bottle, taking peeking glances over his shoulder all the while.

He popped the pill dry and turned back around, leaning on the counter to stare knowingly at the sheriff.

His Dad looked back nervously.

"Ok, whats going on?" the question sounded weary, like he did not want another problem to think about on his plate.

"I think the hundred-zillion candles burning in the house are starting to damage my brain. I'm pretty sure the smell of cinnamon has glued itself to the inside of my nostrils and is now eating my brain cells. And I think we both know I can't afford to lose anymore of those." his sarcasm was good natured, but inquiring.

"I lit them because Catherine," his Dad choked and winced at the word as if had stung him," is coming over."

Stiles immediately felt his world come crashing down around him. That was certainly not the answer he was expecting.

Cathrine. His sister.

His sister was coming over.

His sister was coming over. All at once, memories that he had tried to forget, tried to ignore for the better part of the last six years, tore through his heart like one of Allison's arrows.

Stiles wasn't sure whether to deadbolt himself inside his room, dig a hole and bury himself in the backyard, or dissolve into a black puddle of Stiles-goop on the carpet.

His sister was only a year older than him, a junior this year. When they were young she had always doted on him, spoiling him to the point that they gave passing on-lookers cavities.

She was a strong woman, and her personality had often clashed with their Mother's. Although he had too admit, his Mom had started the fights- even when his sister did nothing.

When he was 10 'his Kitty' (which was what he called her when he was little, not to mention 'baby-bear' which was reserved souly for Dad) moved two towns over to live with grandparents on their Dad's side. Shortly afterwards Stiles, his Mom and his Dad moved out of Texas. Leaving his sister in their home state while they escaped to Beacon Hills, California. (All three quickly corrected any southern accent they possessed after about three weeks of people making fun of them for sounding ignorant.)

While at the time he had felt betrayed by his sister for leaving him, he later understood. His Mom had been a meth addict with a border line psychotic personality. She was crazy and had always taken everything out on Amy. His entire childhood was memories of yelling and screaming. Slaps and thrown objects directed toward his sister.

He remembered one time they had gotten into an especially big fight. She had dragged Catherine into the living room by her hair and shoved her on the floor. His sister later informed Stiles about a detail he didn't remember himself.

Apparently he had been crying while beating his mom with a clothes-hanger, yelling at her to 'get off his sister!'. Cathrine had been laughing good-naturedly, absurdly happy that he had been so concerned.

After that fight she had walked away with a busted lip, being hit in the face 'accidentally'. Their Mom's purse had connected with her braces, causing her lip to tear and bleed in several places. Not to mention the deep bruise that had been left on her cheek bone. Their Mother claimed to only have been trying to 'restrain her'. What from what he had no idea.

A few weeks later Stiles had thought about it, and wondered why his sister hadn't fought back. If she tried he knew she could have kicked Mom's ass. Bad. Like broken bone bad- and with hardly any effort to boot. She wasn't lanky with no muscle like Stiles was.

He also recalled, long after her death, all the things his Mom had said.

Rude, hateful things. Things that had over time shattered his sisters self esteem like dropped glass. And the worst part was, his Dad never stopped it. Too blinded by alcohol and his love for a psychotic, abusive woman.

When Cathrine had moved away Stiles had been devastated, not knowing why she would leave him. He hadn't know how the drugs and abuse wore her down.

After a month of living in Beacon Hills, Mom had died by accidental overdose. The neighbors and Scott's mom had cried, saying that she had been such a beautiful and kind woman. Their Mom had been pretty, Stiles would admit. Curvy and vivacious like any man's wet dream. However, the word 'kind' was too good to be in any sentence containing his mother.

He used to wonder if Catherine thought it was her fault. Mom had always threatened to commit suicide when they all lived together. Bringing out knifes in the middle of screaming at his sister, constantly yelling that she would slit her wrists, and it would be all Cathy's fault.

This, that, and everything else had always been 'Cathy's fault'.

His sister had had to call the cops a few times as children to come to their house and talk reason to her. However, just as they would open the door, Mother's mask would be put on, and no one tended to questioned a pretty face. (This was when Dad was still in the academy and not an official officer yet).

Now, years later, he was filled with regret. For never stepping in to help. For refusing to open his eyes and see how severely depressed his older sibling had become. For hiding in the closet, crying like a baby while his best friend was robbed of her childhood, forced to become an adult sooner than anyone should-

His Dad snapped his fingers in front of Stiles's face, breaking his connection to memory lane.

"I said your sister was coming to stay," his fathers voice was gruff with seemingly conflicting emotions- happy, anxious, sad, guilty, "She's going to be living with us for a while. It was a quick decision. She wants to reconnect. To get to know me - and you- again."

Stiles ran a hand through his hair and let out an exasperated sigh. "When is she coming?"

"Next week."

Stiles's lungs collapsed, honey-brown eyes widening. He couldn't breath. That soon!? Why? He wasn't ready! - wasn't prepared!

He supposed this was the almighty Karma for ignoring her on Facebook. She was constantly messaging him, trying to keep in touch. Always asking him about his day, how he was doing, if he had a girlfriend- but he was forever too chicken to respond. He hadn't seen, or talked to Catherine since the funeral. It was a miracle he had even accepted her Friend Request.

He was up to his neck with ignored feelings of guilt. How was he going to face her?

Before he could get out any words of protest, his Dad grabbed his morning coffee and walked out the door.

-time skip: next day at school-

Making his way down the hallway, Scott followed the smell of shitty food down to the cafeteria. He was eager to grab some grub, sit down and give his brain a rest from his teachers monotonous lectures.

Lunch in silence was never much of an option until today, seeing as Stiles never stopped talking for more than a few minutes at a time. However, his best friend had been unusually quiet during classes. He hadn't been talking, to himself or anyone else. Just making increasingly annoying tapping noises with his pen and foot.

Scott wasn't sure whether to be concerned or irritated.

He soon made his way across the lunch room and sat down next to Stiles. Who was poking his food around with a fork- rather than stuffing his face with one of everything like he usually did, chattering at a million miles an hour. Concern won out.

"Are you ok?" he asked casually, hoping for a sarcastic response.

"Yeah, fine." the answer was short and simple, but Scott still heard the skip in the other's heart beat- publicizing the lie.

"Your lying- Tell me what's going on. "

Stiles turned to him, eyes down cast. His face looked deep in thought and the dark circles under the man's eyes showed he hadn't gotten much sleep the night before. Scott waited for an answer.

"My sister is coming to t-town. She's going to live with us for this school year- maybe even longer." Stiles's voice quivered, heart rate kicking up a notch. He almost seemed scared.

It took a second for Scott to really process what Stiles said. He took a drink of Pepsi before the werewolf almost choked, realization smacking him.

Stiles's behavior made sense now. While Scott had never pushed the subject (the conversation seemed to raw to rub on) he knew the gist of the 'Stilinski Family' situation.

Mother was a drug addict. Sister couldn't take it. Sister moved out - end of story.

But it didn't seem that that was the case now, and Scott wondered what detail he was missing. His best friend seemed shaken up, not to mention that the smell of guilt rolling off Stiles was starting to clog up his nostrils.

"Why is that so bad?" he asked, placing a reassuring hand on the other's shoulder. "Doesn't that mean that she wants to see you? Maybe she wants to be a family again- that's a good thing! Besides, I bet she's nervous too, don't be such a wimp." He gave a hard clap on Stiles's back at the last statement, leaking a bit of soothing, calm energy into his friend as his hand lingered.

It seemed to work as Stiles relaxed a little, starting to eat his food and talk again. Scott listened and chatted mindlessly with him, trying to seem interested. But inside he was uneasy.

Stiles's sister had abandoned him as far as Scott was concerned. She had left him all alone to deal with his crack head Mom and drunk Dad. Even though he knew Sheriff Stilinski was a better man now because of it, it didn't change the fact that at the time, Stiles was too young and guileless to understand the situation properly and take care of himself.

If he was honest with himself, Scott was pretty sure that even without meeting her- he hated the girl called Catherine.

He knew Stiles beat himself up over god knows what because of her disappearance from his life, when he was sure that there was nothing for Stiles to be felling guilty about. It made him sick inside to know that his friend had a hole in his heart because he likely blamed himself for her leaving. He blamed a lot of things on himself, even when those 'things' were matters he had no control over.

Either way, he wanted to meet her. To see what her intentions were for popping back into his friend's life all the sudden. But, no matter what the reason, Scott was going to make sure that she wasn't here to break Stiles's heart once again.

-v-

Over the next few days there turned out to be much more important things to worry about than Amy.

Heather was dead. The girl from the campgrounds was dead. The guy by the pool was dead. And all of it pointed to human sacrifices.

The alpha pack started shit. Both packs fought. Scott was injured. Alphas won, Derek was dead.

They were on a stupid bus for a stupid track meet while Ethan tried to start shit again with Boyd and Isaac. Scott was surprisingly not healing and was bleeding to death with black blood leaking from his wounds.

Allison saved Scott.

Everyone went to a creepy ass hotel for the track meet the next morning. Then the werewolf's flipped the fuck out trying to kill themselves all night. And Lydia may or may not be apart of it. Then there was the creepy dude with stitched up face that gave him nightmares.

On the plus side, they were told Derek was still alive. The pack was unharmed, and the track meet was cancelled.

-v-

Stiles plopped down on his couch, sighing heavily.

His head ached, his body hurt, and he was tired as hell. He had only slept on the bus for a few hours, thanks to the uncomfortable seats and the adrenalin coursing through his veins.

They had searched for Derek as soon as they had reached town, looking high and low in every nook and cranny. Only to find him at his house looking rested, healthy, and strangely giddy.

Derek had pranced around the house with an extra spring in his step that had creeped everyone else off the property, leaving the questionably happy alpha to his own devices.

Stiles sighed again, looking up at the ceiling before getting up and trudging up the stairs to his room. Determined to get the best sleep of his life he took a quick shower before changing into his boxers and cuddling up under his covers. He hugged a pillow to his chest, the weight of it bringing a familiar feeling up in the back of his mind. But before he could grasp and identify the memory, he was lulled into a deep sleep.

-v-

So? How was the first chapter?:) please comment and review3