'When I'm gone following my own fullmoon" - Series Part II
Can You really call it being left behind?
Time creeped by.
Stiles only called his father.
No one but his father called Stiles.
It started slowly. The process of getting their collective heads out of their high and mighty asses. And it didn't even start with Scott, no no. No wonder, why bother?
Strangely, it was Derek who first noticed something amiss in the Stilinski household.
The truly sad thing was that he only sought Stiles out because he needed someone to research a very annoyingly persistent pixie plague the pack had to deal with for the last two weeks. Derek honestly only thought Stiles out because the whole story became simply ridiculous. And he didn't do ridiculous.
Like ever.
So here he was, sitting on a branch outside of Stiles closed bedroom window and being unable to cross into the room of their pack human. It had been months since hey had seen each other, the pack needing to process and take in the havoc wrecked by the Nogitsune while it obsessed Stiles. They, meaning Derek and Scott, decided to give Stiles a break from the supernatural and recover from being possessed by an evil demon fox. Keeping this in mind the summer break passed without any sign of Stiles.
It was only now that Derek started to question the humans absence, because … why the fuck had Stiles shut off his house with mountain ash?
Why?
An why now?
The answer was silence. As in, no answer was forthcoming because of a disconcerting lack of reaction on Stiles part. He didn't answer their texts, mails and calls. None of his friends saw him in classes or at lacrosse. He didn't sit with them during lunch.
Neither Allison sending a picture of Scott's annoyingly pleading puppy-dog expression nor Lydia's demanding voice mails were answered in any way.
Silence.
Complete and utter silence.
Terrifying.
As it was the Sheriff preserved. Derek had to give it to the man – were his son was always talking and blabbering the Sheriff just kept on looking right through them.
But even the most patient men could snap if irritated enough. And it was three months after the beginning of senior year that Sheriff John Stilinski finally was pushed beyond his limits as the whole pack cornered him at the stations parking lot after a late night shift.
Oh yes, that little pests would finally be getting their answers.
And they would be wishing they hadn't.
" My son did the right thing. He left this god-forsaken town."
Scott closed his eyes, a paint look burned into them. Isaac whimpered. Jackson scoffed while Lydia pursed her lips. Erica and Boyd looked disinterested. But Derek could feel their pain through the pack bonds.
He crossed his arms, lips a firm line.
" When will he be back?"
The Sheriff didn't answer, didn't even look into Allison's direction.
"Why would he leave?"
It was the Sheriffs turn to scoff at Scott's question. The man stepped around the teenaged True Alpha and to the cruiser. He opened the drivers door and stopped just short of sitting down. His back to the pack.
And then he answered.
Answered, sat down and drove away.
Leaving a shocked, horrified and fearful pack behind, his words still echoing cruelly in the remaining silence. Derek had begun to hate this non-Stiles-interrupted Silence.
He felt sick.
" Stiles left because he never wanted me to find him ever again lying in a pool of his own blood dying from slitting wrists. He left to live. For both of us. … and he knows that I will always support him in anyway I can – so he really left no one behind."
The unspoken words echoed through Derek's mind like a silver metal baseball bat driving them home again and again.
' You can't be left behind when you weren't there to begin with.'
' Where were you?'
It was the day before Christmas that Beacon Hills was drowned in mournful wolf howls.
During the day.
The Sheriff just upped the volume on his television and looked down at his cell phone as it vibrated shortly, signalling a message. The smiling healthier face of his son looked up at him, from under a red umbrella, a tanned male hand carding through his sons longish black curls lovingly.
He smiled, humming to himself.
There was no reason to worry about the ruddy wolves. They just got their pathetic little messages returned without his son ever being bothered by them. Their messages returned with a 'number disconnected'.
Ah, Christmas was wonderful.
And he was completely satisfied with gifting his darling Baby Boy with a new, albeit expensive, absolutely werewolf-number-free cell phone this year.
John Stilinski smirked into his beer as another howl ripped through the air.
Oh yes, he simply loved Christmas!
See you in Pt. III ~