When Stiles woke up the next morning he was uncomfortable, messy, and alone. He shivered, groaned, and pushed himself out of bed. He needed to wash his sheets but he decided to shower first. If his dad came home and saw his bed in that state it wouldn't be the most embarrassing part of the whole thing and he felt he'd be better equipped to deal with everything once he'd washed the previous night off of his skin. He grabbed some comfy, loose fitting clothes and headed down the hall.

Stiles took stock of what had happened as he stood under the hot spray. In one night he'd received his first kiss, first blowjob, and first hand-job. He hadn't been in control of himself and hadn't really wanted any of it, not like that. He wasn't okay. He didn't blame Derek; Derek had done what was necessary. But that was another problem. He'd behaved in the most embarrassing, immature way in front of his crush and alpha, not to mention what he'd done in front of the rest of the pack. On top of all that Derek had enjoyed it. At least he seemed to be into it by the way he reacted. But Stiles wasn't sure if Derek was reacting to him or to the sexual situation. Stiles beat his forehead against the wall a few times, worst night ever.

After his shower Stiles did the laundry. He was glad his dad still wasn't home and he wouldn't have to try to explain the situation. He checked his phone and texted Scott, 'I'm ok'. He ate some food, though less than usual. He put clean sheets on his bed. He tidied his room. He stalled. Eventually he shoved Mama Hale's rings in his pocket, grabbed his keys from where Derek had left them on the desk, and drove out to the Hale house.

Stiles was surprised to see the array of vehicles that indicated the whole pack was at the house. He checked his phone again to make sure he hadn't missed a call or text informing him they were meeting; there was nothing. He knocked on the front door. He stood there for a long time waiting. He knocked again. This time Derek wrenched the door open.

"What do you want Stiles?" he asked, obviously annoyed. Stiles hesitated.

"I uh… wanted to talk to you… about last night," he said quietly, as if the werewolves assembled behind Derek couldn't hear him anyway.

"I'm busy," Derek said roughly.

"I can wait?"

"Go home Stiles," Derek ordered.

"Look man, can I just come in? I mean everyone else is here so I…"

"Stiles," Derek cut him off. "This is a pack meeting, and you're not pack." Then he shut the door. Stiles stood there a moment, waiting for someone else to let him in, straining to hear someone argue that he was pack. Nothing happened. Stiles felt like he'd been punched, like he was back in the basement with Gerard Argent.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled at the door, unsure exactly what he was apologizing for. He stumbled back to the jeep slowly and waited inside it for a few more minutes but nothing changed. Finally he drove home.

When Stiles got home his father was asleep on the couch, a half eaten plate of leftovers in front of him. Stiles had the sudden urge to wake him up to talked about everything but he knew he couldn't; there were too many lies between them and too many secrets that weren't his to tell. He sighed and retreated upstairs.

Stiles sprawled out on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He tried to think about what he'd missed; he had been so sure he was pack now that Scott was. Humans could be pack, that much he was sure of. But not Stiles. He thought back to Peter offering him the bite. If he had taken it this wouldn't be an issue, he would be pack. Or would he? Stiles began to wonder if he'd misconstrued his relationship with Derek because of his own feelings. Maybe the problem wasn't that Stiles was human but that he was Stiles. If he'd been a wolf when Peter died would Derek have abandoned him and relegated him to omega status forever?

Stiles got up and began pacing, nervous energy humming through his bones. He tried to think of something to do. He texted Scott, 'Call when u r done'. He remembered the rings in his pocket. He wasn't about to go back to the Hale house to return them so he removed the strings from both Derek's and his mother's rings and placed them safely in his desk. He paced a little more in hopes that Scott would call back quickly. He sat down to do some research. He barely paid any attention to the articles he pulled up. He went downstairs to make dinner. He made small talk with his dad before his next shift, found out they'd found the dead incubus and had no leads. Scott didn't call. At ten Stiles dialed his number but he didn't answer. Stiles went to bed and didn't sleep.

The next day he tried calling Scott again with the same results. He tried texting again.

'U ok?' For a while he got no response. When his phone finally went off Stiles' heart sank.

'Im fine. We cant b friends nemore.'

'Y?' Stiles sent back. He waited but got no response. 'Bcuz I'm not pack?' Stiles asked. Again, there was no response. In anger and frustration Stiles fired off a text to Derek, 'Fuck u'.

After that summer started to really suck. Stiles made a few more desperate attempts to talk with Scott and one more painful attempt to talk to Derek. No one in the pack would talk to him. This presented a problem since Stiles only knew two non-werewolves: Lydia and Allison. Lydia was still marginally affiliated with the pack and while she would at least answer the phone she mostly wouldn't talk to him either. He thought about hanging out with Allison since she was no longer dating Scott and therefore completely non-pack, but the ease with which she had become Gerard's puppet made it difficult for Stiles to separate her from what he had done. Additionally, Stiles believed as strongly as Scott that it was just a matter of time before they were a couple again and he wasn't sure if their eventual reunion would mean he and Scott were friends again or that he and Allison weren't. The way things were going he'd put money on the latter.

So at the beginning of July when Stiles' birthday rolled around he was feeling more than a little depressed. He had a meager celebration in the afternoon with his dad before the Sheriff headed off to work. He hesitated a moment once his dad had left before caving and texting Scott.

'Hang w/ me 2nite' He wasn't surprised to get no response. 'Its my bday man, cmon!' He stared at his phone and was surprise when a reply popped up.

'Sry' was all it said. Stiles looked around the room in exasperation. His eyes settled on the liquor cabinet and he moved over to it. He sighed as he pulled out the bottle of Jack.

"When your best friend gets dumped, you get your best friend drunk."

Stiles knew driving out to the wildlife preserve to drink was stupid. He wouldn't have any way to get home safely and even in times of relative calm Beacon Hills wasn't a good place to be out alone at night. He went anyway, telling himself that it was the least likely place for his father to catch him. If he was honest he was hoping Derek would show up to yell at him so he could initiate their long overdue talk. Stiles had settled in against a well-formed boulder and had just taken his first drink from the bottle when he was startled.

"You shouldn't drink that," came a voice from behind him. He turned with a scattering of limbs. The voice belonged to a girl who was now perched on top of the boulder, although Stiles was sure she hadn't been there before. She had long wavy auburn hair and friendly green eyes. She looked about Stiles' age but he didn't recognize her.

"When did you get there?" Stiles asked more to himself than to her.

"Just now. You shouldn't drink that, it won't make you feel better," she replied.

"Who says I'm feeling bad?" Stiles asked defensively. There was something slightly off about this girl but he couldn't quite figure out what.

"Jack Daniels," she answered, looking pointedly at the bottle.

"Maybe I'm just a party kind of guy; I don't have to be drowning my sorrows." She seemed to consider this.

"What kind of party then, what are we celebrating?" she asked casually. Stiles tried to ignore the way his heart fluttered at the word 'we'; he wasn't that desperate for a friend, he wasn't.

"My birthday. I'm seventeen," he answered, beginning to warm to the conversation.

"Well happy birthday," she smiled. Stiles smiled back.

"Thanks. I'm Stiles, by the way," he said, offering his hand. She took it warmly.

"Cerridwen, or just Wen, if you prefer."

"Wen," Stiles repeated, testing the name out on his lips. "You go to Beacon Hills High?"

"Not yet. I just moved here about a week ago. I'll be attending in the fall." Stiles smiled and they fell into companionable chatter. He told her all about Beacon Hills (minus the murdery bits) and what the high school was like and about lacrosse. Occasionally he would mention someone in the pack, falter, and move on quickly. Wen obviously noticed but didn't ask, which made Stiles appreciate her. They exchanged numbers and went their separate ways. Stiles drove home feeling pretty good but it didn't stop him from texting Scott.

'Found new bf, have fun chasing ur tail', to which Scott didn't reply.

Stiles and Wen became fast friends. They spent most of the summer chatting online and hanging out. Sheriff Stilinski kept asking Stiles if they were dating but Stiles honestly didn't have any romantic feelings toward Wen. Besides, no matter how good of friends they were Stiles couldn't shake the feeling there was something different about her. At least she wasn't a werewolf.

Stiles was feeling pretty good about life by the end of summer, even if he didn't have a pack and Scott had abandoned him, at least he wasn't alone. His good mood ended, however, when school started back up. He ended up only having one class with Wen but a whole bunch with Scott and Allison. Scott and Allison who were obviously back together. Allison who was a human and a hunter but apparently was still more acceptable as pack/friends than Stiles. Stiles who had always tried to help the wolves and had never actively tried to kill any of them other than Peter during his psycho phase. Stiles was hurt and angry and more than a little jealous.

'Getting drunk 2nite, u coming?' Stiles texted Wen one night when his dad was working and his feeling had reached a crescendo. The final straw might have been running into Derek at the gas station and being completely ignored.

'Pick me up.' Wen texted back.

Stiles was drunk. Wen hadn't had so much as a sip.

"It's not my fault I'm human," Stiles mumbled. "Well it is sorta... But who cares? Some of us are human." He glanced at Wen who was smiling at him, bemused. "I mean you're not, I don't think. Are you?" She looked surprised but not as much as she should have. "What are you though? You're not a werewolf are you, 'cause that would suck?"

"Do you know a lot of werewolves?" Wen asked casually. Stiles made a dismissive noise and took another drink.

"I know a whole pack of them. Scott, you know Scott, he used to be my best friend. He got bitten by Peter, who used to be evil but now is just sassy. Death really worked for Peter. Maybe Derek should come back from the dead too. Maybe then he'd mellow out and like me more," Stiles blabbered drunkenly.

"Who's Derek?"

"Derek is my alpha." Stiles snickered. "Well not my alpha."

"Why not your alpha? Can't humans be pack too?" Wen asked. There was something beginning to bother Stiles that he couldn't quite grasp.

"Yeah but… I don't know the rules. I thought I was pack but like, Derek said I'm not and now no one will talk to me. Allison is pack and so's Lydia. But not Stiiiles," Stiles whined.

"Why not Stiles? There must be a reason." Stiles took a long drink, looking puzzled as he thought about it.

"Because Stiles likes Derek," he said with a snort. "I can't help it though. He's all broody and dark but he's got this face and this chest." Stiles let out a low groan. "And it's not like it's new or he didn't already know or something. He's a werewolf, he can smell things." Stiles waggled his eyebrows as if to impress upon her the magnitude of things Derek could smell.

"So what changed?" Wen prompted. Stiles sighed.

"We had naughty incubus sexy times." She stared at him, her silence willing him to continue. "I guess having a gay crush on the alpha is like Fight Club, you don't talk about it. And I talked about it. I just kept begging and I wouldn't take no for an answer. I'm not that guy but I was all incubus induced hormones and things just happened. Maybe things are just too awkward when you've mutually raped each other." Again Stiles had the feeling that something was wrong without knowing what.

"Have you talked to him about it?" Stiles shook his head.

"Can't. He won't talk to me, none of the wolves will." Stiles went to take another drink but paused with his lips on the bottle. He sat up abruptly and looked at Wen in horror as he finally realized what was wrong. "Oh my god! You didn't hear any of that!"

"Don't worry, I won't tell," she replied soothingly. Stiles relaxed a little, sinking lower against the rock outcropping. He set the bottle to the side.

"You didn't answer my question," he said lazily.

"Oh?" Wen asked.

"What are you?"

"What makes you so sure I'm not human?"

"I dunno, I just know. Like how I knew Matt was evil even when I didn't know. I just knew it. Nobody believed me but I knew. And I know now too, you're not human." Wen smiled at him and Stiles thought it was more predatory than usual.

"Well you're right, in a way. I'm a witch." She moved closer to Stiles. "And I want to help you Stiles, so right now you need to sleep." Wen kissed him gently on the forehead and he did exactly what she said.

Author's Note: I'm sure someone will complain about Stiles' birthday. The only date I could find anywhere for his birthday was on Teen Wolf: The Hunt, which puts it in April. However The Hunt also says Lydia and Allison's birthdays are at most a few days apart, which pretty strongly conflicts with canon. Therefore I decided to ignore the date given for Stiles' birthday in order to suit the story better.