Author's Notes: I want to apologize for the long wait. No this is not abandoned. I would have said something if it had been. I've just been going crazy with real life. Between hard classes I had to take this semester, finals, and my parents having a meltdown, I've had a hard time with my muse. Hopefully with it being summer and me only having to worry about work(which consists of me sitting in front of computer talking to angry people all day) things will calm down enough that I can think about something other than wanting to sleep all the time.

Also! If you haven't noticed I have posted a poll on whether or not I should write a much shorter version of this where Erica is alive. If I did it would be shorter and much less complicated than I plan on this one being, so it would be a side story, but I know several people didn't enjoy that she wasn't in this. Which is slightly annoying, because just because she's dead doesn't mean she doesn't play as important of a role. In fact, her role is still very big. Her death is what is going to help me develop Stiles character in this. But meh, everybody has their opinion.

So here is the next chapter, and please forgive me for the long wait. And please forgive the grammar because I didn't read it and I don't have a beta.

Band of Horses

The Funeral

I'm coming up only to hold you under
And coming up only to show you wrong
And to know you is hard; we wonder...
To know you all wrong; we warn.

Ooooooooh Oooooooooh
Ooooooooh Oooooooooh

Really too late to call,
So we wait for; morning to wake you
Is all we got
To know me as hardly golden
Is to know me all wrong, they warn.

At every occasion, I'll be ready for the funeral
At every occasion, once more, it's called the funeral
At every occasion, oh, I'm ready for the funeral
At every occasion, oh, one billion day funeral

I'm coming up only to show you down for
And coming up only to show you wrong.

To the outside: the dead leaves lay on the lawn
For they don't have trees to hang their own.

Ooooooooh Oooooooooh
Ooooooooh Oooooooooh

At every occasion
I'll be ready for the funeral
At every occasion once more
It's called the funeral
At every occasion
Oh, I'm ready for the funeral
Every occasion
Of one billion day funeral

/\/\/\/\/\/\

The next three days passed quickly for Stiles. Stiles officially met Amelia, Boyds' wife, and their seven year old son. Stiles had given them a disapproving look when he found the boy's name was Vernon, unable to help pointing out the fact that Boyd himself would not go by the name. Boyd had just smiled slightly and shrugged.

He also got to meet Allison and Scotts daughter, they had named her Victoria after Allison's mother. Stiles had mixed feelings on this, because the woman had tried killing Scott, but then she had also been Allison's mother, and Allison had loved her very much. He regretted again, not being there for her birth.

The pack had stayed close, showing how much they had missed Stiles. And while Stiles loved it himself, having missed them so much, his wolf was restless, enjoying the feeling of having the other wolves around, but uneasy that they were not pack. Stiles was a lone Alpha, on the verge of Omega, and while he never saw Derek he could smell him all over the others in the pack, and that had him restless. He could not claim the others as pack, no matter how much they insisted that he was, at least not until Derek claimed him as pack. Though he was doubting that as a possible thing that could happen right now.

Even so, he hadn't heard or seen Derek. Which was a relief because he already had a lot on his plate. Isaac had been toting him around for the past three days. Taking him to all of his appointments. And while having someone there with him was nice, he knew it was on orders that he was never left alone. The fact it was always Isaac bugged him, like it was intentional on the packs part. As if everyone expected him to suddenly have a connection with the young man because of their similar upbringing.

Nobody else knew what to do with Stiles anymore(except Scott, who doesn't count because he's like a puppy dog whose owner came home from a long trip), because they had all changed over the past nine years, but unlike everyone else Stiles hadn't changed as a part of the pack. He was separate. Almost alien from the hyperactive little shit they remembered him as. Him being a new Alpha didn't help matters, no one knew how to act around him, their human halves wanting to treat him one way, while their wolves cowered and snapped at the presence of a foreign Alpha. It all set Stiles teeth on edge because he still had the urge to change and claim himself a pack. But he couldn't blame them. Couldn't be upset about anyone or anything, but himself and his actions. Because this was his fault.

"Stiles," Scott's voice had him startling out of his thoughts, it sounded like he'd been saying it for a while.

"Jesus," Stiles hissed glancing over his shoulder at his best friend. "So much for werewolf hearing right?" he snorted, lips quirking in an amused smirk. He was sitting outside on their back porch, feeling overwhelmed by everyone inside the house. They had made a habit of everyone gathering in the evenings to spend time together with Stiles. He appreciated it, he really did, but he felt crowded and tired.

Scott grinned at Stiles before sitting next to him. The smile faded though and his eyes got their puppy gleam as concern replaced the happier emotions. Stiles grimaced turning away. "You okay? You disappeared," Scott fidgeted slightly, his eyes never leaving the side of Stiles head.

"Yeah, dude, I'm fine. Just got crowded, itching because the full moon is coming up this weekend. A lot going on this week. It's all got my wolf on edge," Stiles was unwilling to lie, not just because Scott would hear it if he did, but he didn't want to feel the burden of carrying his concerns on his shoulders anymore, he didn't want to feel alone.

"Do you think…with the funeral and all being tomorrow it'll help?" Scott asked, leaning towards Stiles, their shoulders and thighs brushing. The physical contact seemed to calm Stiles wolf some, the angry buzzing in the back of his head quieting to a soft hum.

"I hope so," he sighed. "Though just because he's buried doesn't mean I'm finished dealing with the mess he left behind. I still haven't been by the house. And the day after tomorrow I have to have dinner with Derek," at the mention of Derek Stiles' stomach churned with anxiety and guilt. He wished, not for the first time that he had a time machine so that he could go back and never leave Beacon Hills. "I should have come back three months ago. I should have never stayed, I should have let the area pack take care of the rogue Alpha." He scrubbed his hands through his hair, shocked to find claws scraping at his scalp.

Scott wasn't leaning against him anymore, he had moved slightly away and seemed to be struggling with some inner turmoil. It took Stiles a second to realize it was because he'd partially shifted, and Scott was struggling with being Stiles' best friend and Stiles being an Alpha. Stiles leaned forward with a growl, wrapping his arms around his stomach. He practiced deep breathing, like he used to with his panic attacks. He figured he succeeded with pulling himself together when Scott pressed back up against his side.

"Things will work out Stiles. You have to believe that, Derek will help. You know he will," Scott said, he looked constipated, struggling to find words that would help. Not realizing they made Stiles feel worse. Because yes, Derek would help, but he wouldn't want to. And maybe, Stiles felt, he'd be doing it to get Stiles to leave all the faster.

"Yeah, sure dude. I'm tired, gonna go hit the hay. Tomorrow is the big day after all," he made a face as he stood, eyeing Scott as he did the same.

"Okay, let's make pancakes in the morning? Like we used to when you'd stay the night?" Scott said, face lighting up. Stiles couldn't say no, so he smiled and nodded. Because even if he was in a bad mood, having something that used to be normal, sounded really fucking nice.

Stiles bid everyone good night, they were all curled up in the living room, watching some zombie movie. And he had barely made it under the covers when his door opened slowly. Isaac entered the room quietly, shutting the door carefully behind him. There was rustling as he took his pants off, leaving his shirts and briefs on as he slid in behind Stiles. Stiles didn't question the action, just rolled over and curled into the beta's chest. Taking the offered comfort, because while Stiles had never gotten close with Isaac in his time with the pack, he had liked him, how he'd become so strong even after what he had suffered with his own father. Stiles had envied his freedom. But now he had it too, and it was a little nice to have someone who understood what was happening in his head.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Isaac wasn't there when Stiles woke up the next morning. But he didn't think anything of it as he stretched and trudged his way to the guest bathroom, letting the hot water wake him up. He could hear some of the pack still sleeping in the living room down stairs, and their even breathing and heart beats were a soothing rhythm. Scott was making coffee when he finally came down stairs, and Isaac was rummaging through the cabinets getting the needed ingredients for pancakes.

"Do you want chocolate chip or blueberry pancakes?" Isaac asked, turning to face him as Stiles came into the kitchen.

"Both? Because with the amount of hungry wolves in the living room we're going to end up making both anyways, and still run out," Stiles answered, a slight smile pulling at his lips, remembering how the all used to go through mountains of them. A human Stiles had an appetite to match a werewolf's so he had been there right along with them.

Isaac nodded, getting two bags of chocolate chips out of the pantry and several packs of blueberries out of the fridge. "Then you take care of the chocolate chips and I'll take care of the blueberries," he said with a smile.

Stiles found out that the reason Isaac picked blueberry was because he ate the berries while he made the batter. And just like Stiles had pointed out, they ran out of both before everyone was satisfied, so they had to settle for plain pancakes as well.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Stiles was the only Stilinski left. This meant the family room, used for families to pray for their departed loved ones, was empty except for Scott, who he had wanted there for moral support. They had brought sunglasses for Stiles to wear, because periodically his eyes would flash red and the last thing they needed was for the townsfolk to see that.

The funeral was a simple affair, the only part that wasn't simple was the fact pretty much all of Beacon Hills showed up. Which Stiles had expected, his father had after all been the Sheriff up until a year ago, when he had retired. And the man had been an exemplary citizen in every way but being a good father. He was a wonderfully functional drunk when he wanted to be.

Stiles kept himself under well enough control he didn't have to wear the sunglasses within the funeral home.

Everything was going well until the funeral went graveside. Mama McCall, Scott, and Allison sat in family seating with him. The funeral had been the first time that he'd seen Melissa since getting to Beacon Hills and she had immediately wrapped him in a hug and started crying about how big he had gotten, and how grown up he looked. It had lightened his mood a little bit. The pack had made sure he started the day on a good note, and he was thankful for that. The pleasant hum that was his wolf made dealing with this so much easier.

There was no fear in him, no anxiety over burying the man who had hurt him for so long, who had haunted his dreams. There was a sense of relief almost, and a sadness that had his chest aching. He was the last of his family, and while he didn't love the man his father had become, he had loved the man his father used to be. Because John Stilinski used to be a good man, but when his wife died all the goodness left him. He became the soulless husk of who he used to be. And Stiles couldn't help but feel that was his fault. After all, his mother wouldn't have been in the car that day if it weren't for him.

Stiles hadn't realized his claws were digging into his legs until Isaac's hand came from behind him, where the blonde was standing, and squeezed his shoulder, yanking him suddenly back to the funeral. Stiles closed his eyes again and took in a deep breath, trying to gain control of himself again. However, the calming breath didn't have the calming effect that he had hoped. Because as he took the breath, the wind shifted, bringing with it the scent of the forest after a fresh spring rain, a scent that was far too familiar to Stiles and had his wolf howling. Seeing as it hadn't rained in over a week, and it was the middle of winter time, there was only one place that scent was coming from.

His head snapped to the right, blazing Alpha red caught hazel green. Derek was standing off to the side, away from the funeral party. He was staring right back at Stiles, his face its customary blank. His scent was clean, unblemished by the females (Emily, he liked to pretend he didn't remember her name) scent like it had been days before. His wolf snarled and howled wanting to claim, and Stiles claws dug into his legs again as he forced himself to turn away, clinging to his anchor with the best of his ability. Concentrating on Isaac's hand still on his shoulder, but this seemed to upset his wolf further, and before he made the conscious decision to, he was out of his chair and pushing his way through the crowd around the grave site. But he wasn't going in the direction of Derek, he had enough sense to go in the opposite direction.

His feet pushed him harder and faster as the edges of his vision went red. He cleared the fence surrounding the grave yard with a swift leap, thankfully it wasn't a tall fence. The graveyard was on the edges of Beacon Hills, surrounded mostly by the forest. He jerked his jacket off, letting it fall somewhere behind him, shortly it was followed by his tie. He let the wolf guide him, gave into the mindless instincts of the animal, so that he didn't have to think.

When he came back again he was standing in front of what used to be his childhood home. Stiles was hardly out of breath, though his cheeks were slightly chilled from running in the cold December afternoon air.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Isaac found Stiles later sitting in what was his old bedroom, but had become a storage space. The rest of the house was destroyed, things broken and thrown. Claw marks raked the walls and furniture with the fury of a suffering beast.

A/N: Hi again. This didn't turn out like I had wanted. But I am happy to have finally finished it. If Stiles seems a little unhinged that is on purpose. He just lost Erica, he has mixed feelings about the loss of his father, he found out Derek is his mate and he feels guilty about the pain that he has caused him. All of his on top of being a relatively new werewolf and Alpha. So yeah…please read and review. Be gentle though haha.