His name was Stiles Stilinski. His journey was beginning...
Proceeding it had been his entire life until present. His previous life had been in Beacon Hills, California- a place of love, loss, friendship, terror, pain...
Stiles knew now that he was exactly like Derek, in almost every bad way.
Derek had never known what could have been with his family. Stiles had never known his mother. She'd died when he was very young.
That was why this new journey must begin. Only recently had Stiles learned how little he'd truly known about his mother...
The train gave a bump on the tracks, bringing Stiles to the surface of his thoughts. He watched the thick woods of Maine go by his window, bounding further and further north.
His mind went back to what had started him on this journey.
He could almost picture it again- the kitchen of his dad's house, drinking coffee early Tuesday last week.
High school was over for him. His dad had given up insisting he get a job.
Stiles just wanted a break. All the supernatural stuff had tormented him for too long. He and Scott had decided going their own ways was best, considering everything he'd done...
His dad had come into the kitchen that morning carrying a letter for him. Stiles could barely conceal his surprise when he saw the address:
David Collins
No. 1 Widows' Hill
Collinsport, Maine 99874
Stiles turned the envelope and studied it strangely. Who would be writing to him from Maine? He'd never heard of Collinsport...
He noted just then that his dad looked uncomfortable, and was tinkering with something on the counter distractedly.
Stiles shakily opened the letter and gripped the folded paper inside.
Dear Cousin,
It may seem strange to receive a letter from someone you don't remember, but I still remember you...
I'm your Uncle David. Your father would insist on calling your dear mother Claudia, but she will always be Carolyn to me.
For you see, Carolyn was her name...
None of us were especially happy when she left for California to be with a man she'd only met on vacation there.
Still we accepted it. Her loss touched us as deeply as it did you, and I've thought about you since.
I'll be alone soon. My father Roger is sick, and my cousin Barnabas left the old house some time ago. That's the other house on the estate...
This house is called Collinwood Manor. Its an old house, now over 200 years in age. I'd be delighted if you would come stay with me, and there's so much I could tell you about your mother.
Please reply using the enclosed first class envelope, and I'd be glad to provide your train ticket.
I do hope you will consider it.
Your Cousin,
David
Stiles immediately asked his dad why he'd never mentioned his Maine relatives.
John sighed and matted his hair distractedly, explaining that his mother's family was very different.
He conceeded her real name had been Carolyn, but she herself had wanted to forget the past...
Stiles knew his dad could be right to be reluctant, but something about knowing his mother's family appealed to him.
Besides, would his mother have wanted her cousin to be alone?
Stiles felt there were nothing for him in Beacon Hills in the near future, at any rate.
He decided to take a chance. He'd sent his reply first class the next day, and it wasn't two days later he was clutching his train ticket. One way to Collinsport, Maine...
The train bumped again, and Stiles wondered if he were nearly there. The train ride had been nearly three days. He'd taken long trips before, but not like this...
He caught one of the train attendants coming up the aisle.
"Will we be in Collinsport soon?"
"About thirty minutes," the conductor told him. "Give or take."
Stiles thanked him. He decided he'd better get his bag down from the luggage rack.
He took his cell phone from his pocket and started the text to his dad, saying he was about to arrive.
Surprisingly, the attendant had been somewhat off.
"Collinsport ten minutes," the conductor announced over the intercom. "Please be ready with your bags. The train has no layovers. Repeat: this stop is dropping off passengers only..."
Stiles lugged his tote bag over his shoulder and carefully descended the steps to the lower level. The attendant there eyed him in slight surprise.
"Collinsport?" he asked skeptically. "We haven't dropped off there in..."
However, the man didn't say.
Stiles only had moments to ponder it before the train screeched to a halt.
"Collinsport!" the conductor's voice reported. "Please be ready to exit if Collinsport is your stop."
The door was opened and Stiles carefully stepped onto the platform.
No wonder the attendant had been surprised. This looked like the dead middle of nowhere...
He was the only one getting off. Already the train door had been slammed too, and the engine shifted loudly.
Stiles was distracted from this by a car coming up the road. The only car he could see. Was that his ride?
An ancient looking man whose face was like a raisin with thin whisps of hair stepped out of the driver's side.
"Mr. Stilinski?" he asked raspily.
"That'd be me!" Stiles replied easily enough.
The old man gave him a skeptical once over and gestured to the vehicle with his thumb.
"I'm Mr. Loomis," his voice crackled. "Mr. Collins sent me to getcha..."
Stiles nodded simply and tossed his bag in the back seat. He got in next to it, deciding he'd rather not sit next to the shriveled figure in the front.
Mr. Loomis eyed him as though suspecting this, but said nothing. Soon they were off.
The seeming remoteness of the train station gave way to a main road with a Gulf gas station, and several stores. This didn't look so bad...
There were roads leading into subdivisions and neighborhoods where the houses were more spaced out. Some of the roads led out of town.
Stiles wondered where this Collinwood was. Then he took note they were leaving town.
"Hey," he said nervously to Mr. Loomis. "Aren't we..."
"Its outside town," the old man replied with a grunt. "Just ahead..."
The car turned left onto a dirt lane called Widows' Hill Road. The road went at somewhat of an incline.
Stiles thought he could see towers above and ahead.
Sure enough, the car ascended the crest and there was a house- the biggest Stiles had ever seen.
It was clearly ancient. Many of the bricks were rusted, and clearly it needed a new paint job...
The car pulled to a stop in front of two great oak doors with rusty, ancient knockers.
"Mr. Collins is expectin' ya," the old man said in his wheezy crackle. "Just knock. I gotta park the car. I'll take your bag up for ya..."
"No thanks," Stiles said.
The old man gave him a withering glare.
"Suit ya'self..."
He stepped out and the car pulled off slowly, turning with the house.
Stiles watched it go. He could hardly believe it, now that he was here. This was a big and obviously old house!
He stepped toward the oaken doors and knocked carefully.
The door creaked open and a tall man with brown hair, clearly in his 40s met his gaze with expressive brown eyes.
"Uncle?"
The man smiled slyly.
"Come in Stiles..."
Stiles stepped into the ancient looking foyer, like something out of a Middle Ages picture book. To his right were carpeted stairs leading to a second floor.
Ahead and to his left were two doors, also oak- opening into a homely looking living room with a roaring fireplace. It was more like a parlor.
His uncle held out his hand, and Stiles handed over his tote not to seem rude.
Uncle David placed it at the foot of the stairs.
"Willie will take it," he said with a small smile, clearly trying to be inviting.
Stiles managed a smile back, figuring Willie was the old man.
"Come into the drawing room cousin," David invited, leading the way before him.
Stiles stepped forward, not knowing what his life might be from then on out...