That night Stiles cooked his mom's favourite meal and the two Stilinski men sat somewhat awkwardly at the table. The newly revealed truth lay heavily in the air around them both.

Stiles had many questions he wanted to ask the Sherriff of his other life but for some reason found it difficult to ask. As if the questions were too personal, too private. Though he felt silly thinking it, he was in one way or another, asking about himself.

The boy couldn't grasp however, exactly what the Sherriff thought of having a stranger with his sons face taking up residency in his home and his life. Stiles was internally debating whether his question should be asked, whether or not he had a right to the answers. It was the Sherriff however that asked first, seemingly having the same debate himself.

"Am I a good father in your erm, universe?"

"The best." Stiles answered immediately and without thought.

"And yet I'm happy with you, fighting monsters and being in a, in a pack?"

"Like I said before, you don't know. I meant it when I said you were a hero. You do everything for beacon hills, to protect it and its people. Every time you go on shift I pray you come back alive, because I know if it came down to a choice between you and one of your deputy's, you would volunteer to take the bullet. It scares me, but. I am so proud to be your son dad. When I found out about all this supernatural crap, I didn't see danger, I saw the people that needed my help. I saw your face and I knew what you would do. I couldn't let my father know. He would face it like he would everything else and I can't risk more danger of losing you."

"He would be proud of you. I know I am. You Stiles are a hero and you don't do it for glory or medals or recognition. You do it for love. The love of your friends and the people you protect. I am proud of the person my son could be." Stiles didn't know what to say or think about that, he didn't see himself as a hero he didn't see himself as anything, pushing thoughts aside stiles decided it was in fact acceptable to ask his questions.

"What's me like? Stiles mark 2."

"A survivor, his mom, you know."

"Yeah I do. I guess somethings just don't change."

"He took it hard. He feels lost and alone. I guess he really is now. And he is in the middle of what sounds like a horror show."

"Don't worry. My pack will have figured this out sooner than the embarrassingly long time it took me. Stiles will be protected, my pack will do everything to keep him safe. I promise. He will return."

The reality of how far away his son truly was seemed to hit him, and Stiles couldn't stop his arms being flung around his father's neck. Praying his real father did not have the same expression on his face.

That night Stiles found out about who he had named in his head as his evil twin, though he would never say it out loud. He would never hurt his kind of dad that way. Who by the end of the night looked exhausted and drained from having his reality shattered around him and finding out how lost he was in a crazy freaky world.

Stiles found out about his evil twin's misdemeanours and illegal activity, about as long a list as his own, only without the good intensions. He found out about his attitude, the broken bond of his and his father's relationship. It made Stiles want to weep to get home even more, to tell his real father just how much he loved him.

Somewhere between finishing his meal and winding down the conversation with dad 2 he realised that despite what he had discovered and everything going around in his mind, he still had to go to school the next day. The teen moaned before saying goodnight to his current father and dragged himself to his room. When he got there he realised it wasn't his room, technically and now he looked around knowing what had happened, he saw just how similar and different he was to his evil twin.

He sat on the bed and looked around, again he was torn. Should he give into his curiosity? Soon he realised that it was still him and it was still his room, technically, however feeble the reason and decided to go with it and gave into his desire to rummage. He soon came across a weirdly familiar box under his bed. The boy sat on the floor with the unopened box in front of him. He had one too. His he filled with parchments, scrolls in dead languages, snippets of spells, mountain ash and his supernatural diary where he kept a log of his 'adventures' plus a dagger or two. It was a place to keep the things he needed most hidden. If his evil twin used it for the same purpose he was itching, rather apprehensively, to know what was inside. He carefully opened the lid and instantly gawked at what he found; cigarettes, lighters, something Stiles suspiciously suspected to be weed, rizzlers, a half empty bottle of whiskey, condoms, lube, a cock ring, an impressively large dildo and probably most surprisingly, a photocopied picture of deputy Hale's ID photo.

Stiles couldn't help but smirk it seemed that his 'type', that was Derek, spanned across universes. Which was albeit rather touching, but it alit the urge to get back to his world, to his Derek. To see him, touch him and to finally tell the wolf just how much he loved his stupid face. Stiles silently and carefully placed everything back where he found it and climbed into bed.

He knew his pack where working on getting him back, he knew they would protect the other Stiles, he knew he would return to them but for now he had to live as Stiles mark 2 until he could get home.

Knowing where he was, what had happened, knowing he wasn't crazy and that Derek hadn't deserted him and destroyed his life did make the mundane chore of going to school easier. He could spend a few day as a student civilian. And not have to worry about the supernatural crashing into class and ruining his day.

He called Deaton for an update, satisfied Deaton was working on it and was asked to pick up a book after school. Which, the man told him, may hold some answers, but it needed translating. Stiles quite happily went to school after that, progress he thought.

Stiles had forgotten how mundane and boring school was without either a life and death crisis or friends. The day dragged on and on. The only joy he took from the day was when he turned up to Harris' class and aced a pop quiz. The shock on both Harris' and the students in the room was rather amusing.

The teen kept an eye open for his pack, that weren't his pack, but he wanted to at least see them. He spotted them all at lunch;

Erica, her frizzy hair and baggy clothes were back she was sitting on her own with head phones on eating an apple.

Isaac, he was sat outside with Cora Hale, his eyebrows rose when he spotted them through the window but he said nothing, at least they had each other.

Boyd, He was harder to find, which surprised Stiles due to the sheer size of the boy. He did eventually find him, in the library surrounded by small piles of books.

Lydia, she was the easiest to find he simply followed the scent of stuck up bitch that, unlike his Lydia, remained unchanged. She was sat with Jackson, Danny and some other familiar faces from his school. Kira was also surprisingly sat at the table with them laughing along as Lydia told a story. Stiles supposed she was this worlds Allison, who Stiles guessed by her absence hadn't moved to beacon hills.

All his pack where accounted for and seemed relatively unharmed and certainly not in any mortal danger. The only face Stiles longed to see in the hallways was the one he knew he wouldn't see, Scott.

He didn't approach any of the teens in his pack, merely seeing them settles the ache in his chest a little. Though questions still arose in his mind, was Erica still epileptic and bullied for it? Was Boyd still crushingly lonely? Was Isaac still abused? He had to push it all aside, he didn't want to change too much of the world around him. It was not his world and he wouldn't be in it for long, but he did make a mental note to talk to his dad about Isaac in his world encase it was happening here as well.

His day went surprisingly smoothly, though he constantly felt like an observer to the world instead of living in it, though he supposed he was.

The boy raced to Deaton's after school who gave him a huge, carefully wrapped ancient looking book that was written in archaic Latin. Stiles was secretly thrilled to be given the task of translating, it made him feel useful instead of useless in a world not his own.

He got cracking on the book as soon as he got home, he worked on it for hours that night, he worked on it for days but with little progress he was getting frustrated, he only knew one person that knew the language and only one person smart enough to help him, Lydia.

Though the Lydia here was not his banshee warrior princess, here she was a queen. Queen of the high school hierarchy that Stiles has learnt he is not even on the bottom rung of. Here he is a bratty teenager with issues and an appalling attitude, who has given up on school and seemed to have a tendency to get high. The idea of getting Lydia to willingly help him was almost laughable, but he knew Lydia, kind of, he knew deep down she was a good person and her desire for a challenge and curiosity almost outweighed his own. He had to try, he had to try anything if it meant it might help him get home.