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Chapter 1

Stiles was running, his feet aching every time they pressed against the hard floor, every muscle in his body burned and he was certain he couldn't run anymore. He didn't know where he was running too, all he could see was pitch black, all he could hear was the sound of his own laboured breathing. He thought he could hear steps behind him, but his breathing was too loud to be sure, he kept running, kept pushing his legs harder and harder until they eventually gave out and he fell to the floor with a heavy thump. A curse spilled from his lips and then there was something on top of him; someone on top of him. Stiles wanted to beg for him to get off, but a fist connected with his jaw and all he could think about was pain, the beating continued until Stiles felt as though his body was paralysed to the floor, he couldn't move, couldn't think, all there was was pain. Mind numbing pain. Until it stopped and he was the one on top, his fist was the one connecting with Donovan's, there was no thought process, there was just his fist causing as much pain as he could, blood from the whimpering boy beneath him. "Please stop, please stop." Donavon was begging but Stiles wasn't listening. Stiles was punching and punching until the Donovan stopped moving. Wiping his hand on his shirt, Stiles looked down with a satisfied smirk at his work - he had beaten Donavon to death.

"Stiles, Stiles wake up!" Stiles' dad shouted, he had heard his son's whimpering from his bedroom and it killed him to see his son like this. The covers were thrown on the floor and his body was tangled in the sheet, sweat draped over his son's pained face. "Stiles…"

Stiles woke with a start, a strangled scream being cut off as his father pulled him in his arms. "I've got you son, I've got you."

"I can't...Please…" Stiles tried pulling away, he couldn't breathe, all he could think about was Donavon; he had killed him. He had taken someone's life. If his father knew he wouldn't be embracing him to calm him down, he would be putting handcuffs on him and arresting him. "Dad I can't...I can't breathe…"

"I've got you. Copy my breathing Stiles." His father's voice was so gentle, so comforting, Stiles remembered being a child and being upset, his father would read him a story or just talk to him and suddenly everything would be okay. Stiles missed that feeling.

Stiles didn't know how long his panic attack went on for, he was sure that he must have passed out at some point because when he came round his father was sat beside him, Stiles' head resting on his shoulder and his father was holding him so protectively, and for a minute or so, Stiles thought everything was going to be okay. But his reality came crashing back down as his mind started to scream at him: 'When he finds out, he'll hate you!'

"Are you okay?" The Sheriff asked, Stiles just nodded numbly. He was sure he would never be okay again. "You're late for school...I'm not expecting you to go in."

"I...Okay." Stiles just shrugged. Normally his father would push for him to go to school, Stiles used to always pretend to be ill, fake a stomach bug or a headache and his father saw straight through it. It pained Stiles to know that his father must be actually worried about him for him to stay off school.

"I can get Scott to bring you your work…"

"No, I don't...Don't call Scott." Stiles sighed.

"Whatever fight you two have had...It will be okay." Sheriff sighed, though truthfully he hadn't seen Scott and Stiles have a fight in the 12 years that they had been friends, yes they had had small disagreements but nothing ever like this. It was almost as though his son was broken and he was sure that Scott had something to do with it.

"I'll call him…"

"No!" Stiles shouted. "Don't call him. I'm fine. I'm not a child I don't need you to fix this." Stiles was trembling as he shouted, he stood up just feeling the need to move. His hands were shaking and he clasped them at his sides.

"Stiles...You need to calm down, please." His father stood up and took his hands in his, "Have you been taking your medication? You know how you get when you skip…"

"I...I think I have." Stiles breathed, he really couldn't be sure if he had or not. It was as though his days were swimming into one big blur. Like he was slipping further and further into the darkness.

"Oh Stiles." His dad whispered and turned and grabbed the full bottle from his side, he took two out and handed them to his shaking son, watching as he dry swallowed two pills. "Maybe we should take you back to the doctors…"

"I'm okay." Stiles said shaking his head.

"I...I'm going to keep an eye on you, if in a week I still feel you haven't...I'll take you myself." He decided and Stiles just nodded, what else could he say, he couldn't tell him what was bothering him, he couldn't tell him why he was acting like this. All he could do was agree, then he would try and be better. Put his mask back on. "Why don't you try and get some sleep, I'm going to call Parish, tell him I won't be coming in, and don't try and argue with me."

"Okay." Stiles just nodded and curled back up on the bed, but he knew he wouldn't be sleeping. Whenever he closed his eyes he just saw Donovan's broken body with the metal pole through his chest. He had killed him.

-x-

Peter's week was spent milling what Stiles had said over and over in his head. Stiles was many things, a pain in the ass, a smart mouth, annoyingly right most of the time, but he was definitely not a murderer. He had tried to talk to Lydia, but she was being locked up in a different area, something he was angered beyond belief about. Lydia did not belong here. Like most of the teens in Beacon Hills she definitely had her issues, but she wasn't crazy. Not only was he planning her escape, he was finding ways of getting to talk to Stiles again. He had tried to call Derek but his nephew's phone was off, and he figured calling the Sheriff's station might make for an awkward conversation for the younger boy, and if what Stiles had said was true, he knew the young boy would probably not want his father to know about it.

The door to his room opened slowly and Peter raised an eyebrow in its direction. "I wasn't expecting you…" Peter watched as the young boy he had just been thinking about walked in, he wore a baggy jumper and his jeans but he looked washed out, his pale skin pastier than normal and his eyes dark. He hadn't been sleeping, and Peter could hear how angry and hungry his stomach was - he hadn't been eating either.

"I...I didn't know where else to go." Stiles sighed quietly, even his voice was different. Stiles walked over to the corner of the room and sat down.

"Are you okay?" Peter asked, surprising himself with how gentle he had made his voice. Where had this caring side come from? Yes, he had always admired Stiles' loyalty but that didn't mean he actually cared did it?

"No. I'm...I'm not okay." Stiles honestly was another thing that had caught Peter off guard. For a month Stiles had come to Eichen House and they had spent several hours in complete silence. Peter had known that of course something was wrong, he just hadn't thought Stiles would be telling him of all people.

"What you said last week…"

"His name was Donovan." Stiles sighed. "He…he was my age, he wanted to be in the police department...but he didn't pass his psych and...they turned him into...he was trying to kill me." Stiles couldn't get the words out, his speech was coming in breathless pants and Peter recognised the signs of a panic attack. This was the first time Stiles was talking about this, he could tell.

Normally when Stiles visited they would sit on opposite ends of the room, but Peter couldn't face seeing Stiles struggling to breathe and before he knew what he was doing he was sat beside him, one arm around his shoulders cradling him. Peter knew that for 'normal' visitors being in the room like this and even thinking about touching them let alone hugging them was unheard of, but lucky for him he had a certain way with the guards and they had quickly learned to leave him to his own devices. At first Stiles tensed in his arms, but then he relaxed, his breathing went from panicked to normal quicker than Peter thought it would. For some reason, Stiles was calmed by him.

"If he was trying to kill you, it was self defense. Not murder." Peter said firmly, his arms still around Stiles despite the fact that the young boy now seemed to be okay.

"I killed him. It wasn't his fault. He was turned...I...He was an innocent. We should have saved him." Stiles breathed, almost repeating word for word what Scott had shouted at him.

"If someone is trying to kill you, in that moment they are not innocent. If he had been changed then he was gone, it wasn't the innocent boy that was trying to kill you but the monster he had become. Tell me what happened…"

"We were in the library." Stiles said quietly, his fingers picking at one another, rough nails digging into his skin. The slight pain felt good but then Peter's hands were over his pulling them apart. "He was chasing me, I went up a scaffolding, I just...All I could think about was he was going to kill me." Stiles didn't realise he was crying until Peter's arms were even tighter around him. "We fought and then I hit him with a spanner...He fell and the scaffolding did too and it went through his chest and he was...I can't...Everytime I close my eyes I see him."

"It wasn't your fault." Peter promised. "It's going to be okay."

"No it isn't. Everything has...everything has fallen to pieces. Scott is...He's lost his pack, lost his friends and he hates me! Derek if off finding himself somewhere. Lydia is in here and there's this evil bastard picking up the pieces and everyone thinks he's the good guy. But he's not. And I feel so alone and I don't know what to do Peter." Stiles rambled and Peter just held him, what else could he do? "Sometimes I wish I was stuck here too."

"No, Stiles. You don't wish that." Peter said, his hand gently rubbing Stiles' back as he held him. He would do everything in his power to help Stiles because the sight of him crying and breaking down, Peter was sure would be enough to actually kill him.