Chapter two is finally here! Sorry it took so long but I was super busy this week! So I know that the last chapter didn't have any Stydia in it, but I promise you'll see plenty of them in future chapters. Anyways, please comment and review telling me how you like the story so far.

Lots of love!

Shout outs to Nicole, TeenWolf24, Garso, and Guest (you know who you are!)


Time is a funny thing. Each day we live our lives struggling to stay afloat for each and every minute, trying to make it all count.

But eventually, we get to this point, this point where we look back and wonder where it all went.

Where did our lives go?

Five years.

It had been five years since the day Stiles left Beacon Hills.

Five years since he'd left the place that ruined his life.

And now he was back.

The town looked the same. The school, the police station, the hospital, it was if nothing had changed.

How much time has to go by before something shows its decay? When does it fall to ashes? Stiles wondered.

Everything was the same. Except, it wasn't. The town seemed colder, angrier if possible. The clouds drowned the sun, filling the place with only gray.

Bile crept into Stiles's throat, burning his eyes and immediately setting him on edge. The very few good memories of his childhood were gone now, pushing only the darkest moments of his life in full view. This town may have not been evil anymore, but the memories still were.

Every inch of this place took Stiles back to his nightmares. It took him back to the sound of his screams and the death that surrounded him.

"I never thought we'd ever come back." John said flatly, breaking the silence between him and Stiles. He could feel his nervousness rising up inside of him, threatening to break to the surface as they drove further and further into town.

"Yeah, me too." Stiles breathed out, nervously tapping on the window as he watched everything flash by. He remembered it all too clearly. He remembered the school, the hospital and the sheriff station. He remembered the friends he'd left behind.

"I-I think this is a bad idea, Stiles. I think we should go back." John professed, his hold on the steering wheel deathly tight.

Stiles rolled his eyes in response. "Dad, we've driven seven hours to be here. We're not going back. "

"But wh-"

"DAD, its fine. We're only here for three days alright, and then we go home."

The Sheriff turned to look at his son for a moment, ready to argue with him, but instead he found himself admiring his son's bravery.

Stiles was no longer the gangly, awkward, scared boy he once was.

Time had matured him.

Now, at twenty two, he was stronger, braver and even more stubborn.

His body had changed, too. His shoulders were wider now, his stance more solid and dominant, and his muscles were lean. He looks like a man, John thought proudly. Sure, Stiles still had a young face but it was hardened by the darkness in his eyes and the permanent frown on his lips.

Even after five years of peace, Stiles was still hurting.

Back in Arizona, their lives were fairly typical. Stiles had gotten to do everything a high school student should do. And for a time, John truly did believe Stiles was happy. Eventually, the memories did come back though and the nightmares returned.

Still, he hadn't seen that type of nervousness in his son's eyes for years and now, being back in Beacon Hills brought it out.

"Three days. Three days and we're back home. No exceptions." John demanded.

"Three days orrrr seventy-two hours if you wanna be specific." Stiles stated.

John chuckled. "Three days."

John stopped laughing immediately when they drove into the funeral home parking lot.

This a terrible idea, he thought as he noticed Stiles start counting his fingers.


The funeral home was packed. Like every row, every seat, every miniscule crevice packed. The whole town had come to pay their respects to Agent McCall.

They had been in the place for less than five minutes when Stiles began to hear the town whispers.

Stiles bit the inside of his cheek. He wasn't stupid. He knew what they were all saying.

"That's the boy who went crazy his junior year. He even spent time in a nuthouse."

"Yeah, after that one girl died he and his father just up and left town without saying a word to anybody."

"Poor man, first his wife went crazy and then his son."

Stiles took a step closer to John as they made their way down the line to greet Melissa and give their condolences.

"Could this be any weirder?" Stiles muttered to his father.

"Nope. Now shut up and face forward. And don't look at any of them in the eye." John whispered back, overly smiling at an older couple who was scowling at them.

Stiles chuckled. He didn't really care about what most of the town thought of him. He was used to their whispers, but it was just all so strange, seeing the town again. He'd had dreams about it, lots of dreams in fact, but actually being here, actually seeing the town again was different. It was like a bad case of déjà vu and it brought back a thousand emotions Stiles didn't want to encounter again.

"John? Stiles?" Melissa suddenly asked, pulling Stiles back into reality.

"Melissa, hi." John said breathlessly.

"Hi." She repeated back, smiling slightly.

This would almost be funny if it wasn't so goddamn sad, Stiles thought to himself. He knew his father had always had a crush on Melissa. When he and Scott were growing up, the two parents had become inseparable. In fact, up until they moved, Stiles really thought that Melissa and his father would eventually get together.

Perhaps, in another life the two of them would have gotten married.

"Hi, Melissa." Stiles inserted awkwardly when he couldn't take the silence anymore.

Melissa smiled softly at him, tears rimming her eyes. She was about to say something when John cut her off unexpectedly by pulling her into a hug.

"I'm so sorry for your lost." John whispered to her. Melissa nodded in response and tightened her hold on John.

The two of them stood there, in each others embrace, whispering softly to one another.

Stiles shifted nervously on his feet, teetering away from his father and Melissa. He contemplated walking away and giving them space but where exactly would he go? Who would he talk to? He felt like a child, helplessly clinging to his father in the grocery store.

He was about to excuse himself to the restroom when he saw her.

Lydia Martin.

Lydia Martin, his childhood crush.

Lydia Martin, his tether.

Stiles mouth went dry. She was still beautiful, still confident in her 5'3 stature. Her was hair was shorter though, shoulder length and slightly darker. Her smile was still the same, still stunning, but her eyes were different.

Perhaps it was from age, perhaps it was from experience, but Lydia's eyes seemed older than twenty-two. They were much darker now, much sadder. Stiles understood that darkness. He had memorized it himself in the mirror everyday for the last five years. It was the type of darkness that stayed with you. The type of darkness that was permanent.

She stood there, in the front of the room, standing next to her parents when she met his gaze. Her face dropped for a moment and her eyes went wide with shock at his appearance.

"Lydia." Stiles said to himself aloud, noticing her confused expression. He was about to walk up to her when he suddenly felt his father grab onto his arm and pull him to the back of the room.

"Hello everyone." Melissa said shyly from the podium in front of everyone.

Stiles took one more look at Lydia before he followed his father to the back row of seats. She was still staring at him, a confused expression on her face, until her mother grabbed her hand and led her to the seats near the front.

The service was fairly long. Mr. McCall had lots of admirers who felt the need to speak on his behalf. Most of them were people from his work, police officers complimenting on his work ethic. One of the younger officers even bragged that Rafe was like a father to him, causing Stiles to roll his eyes.

"Yeah, he probably treated you more like a son than he did with Scott." Stiles thought to himself angrily.

"Speaking of Scott, where is he?" Stiles wondered.

Earlier, he'd caught Malia and Derek glaring at him from one of the middle rows. And a little later, he'd seen Chris and Isaac sitting together near the back of the room.

He was about to ask his father where Scott was when he heard one of the side doors open.

Stiles looked up to see Scott and Kira quietly entering the funeral home, holding hands. They made their way quietly to the front of the room where Scott then leaned down and whispered something in Kira's ear and she nodded. She broke away from his grasps and silently sat down with Melissa.

Scott walked nervously to the podium, his eyes avoiding the crowd of people.

"H-hi, everyone. Thank you all f-for coming." Scott stuttered, his voice weak and frail. Stiles cringed at his former friend. For as long as Stiles knew him, Scott was never good at public speaking.

Scott closed his eyes for a moment before continuing. "My dad and I had our fair share of problems. We weren't perfect by any means. I mean we are the McCall's. Perfect isn't in our description, am I right?"

Stiles grimaced at Scott's terrible attempt to make a joke. Scott coughed and shifted uncomfortably.

"Right, not funny. The truth is I-"

….

The room went silent for a moment and Stiles looked up to see Scott staring straight at him.

He could feel the eyes darting between him and Scott and the whispers begin to get louder.

Scott continued to look at Stiles, his expression unreadable.

Stiles gulped nervously, his eyes shifting across the entire room.

Scott blinked for a moment and looked around the room as if in shock. "I-I uh, yeah…my dad. My dad was a good guy, I guess. Um, I-I need to go. I'm sorry." He said, practically running out of the door with Kira on his heels.

Everyone in the crowd started talking all at once, but Stiles couldn't hear a word. He was too busy noticing the death stare Derek, Malia, Isaac and Chris were giving him from their seats.

Yeah, things could definitely get weirder….