Authors Note: 10th most followed teen wolf fan fiction? Out of over 2400 stories? Are YOU KIDDING ME? I almost started crying from excitement. I have no idea why it means so much to me, but thank you all for reading!
This will be a LONG chapter so brace yourselves!
School starts today so next chapter may not be next Monday.
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"Leave?" Stiles asked, confusion riddled across his features. Leave the house? Leave the state? Leave everything?
"Leave." Derek confirmed with a harsh blunt tone. His jaw was locked tightly after he spoke, his eyes lingering down for a moment of shame before reconnecting with Stiles shocked brown.
"What on earth does that mean?" Stiles asked, thrusting his hands off the comforter of the bed, throwing them with wild gestures in the air. There were marks on the bed from where he had been squeezing the bed sheets in frustration.
"It means it's not too late for you Stiles. You can still be a normal human." It killed Derek to say every word. Normal, Stiles would never be normal. Not with his twitchy exterior or his endless mouth or his constant concern for others or his damned curiosity. Especially after discovering the barely hidden secret of werewolves, nothing would ever be normal about him and nothing could ever feel normal again. Even if he left, there would always be that concerned glance over his shoulders, that frantic searching wherever he went for a hunter or a werewolf, that questioning of any new friends- what they were truly hiding and if it there secrets contained fangs and death. There would be no peace of mind.
"You think I can go back? You think I can forget all of this and just be a normal human?" Stiles eyes widened at even the remotest false belief that he could be normal. It was too late.
I can't forget.
And that's okay. I don't want to.
He had changed so much in the last few months, everyone had. Most in a more physical sense, but everything had changed. He saw Scott become far more protective, almost to a clingy level, but he was desperate to defend everything. It was like he was a father and all of his friends were his children, that sort of possessiveness. Stiles saw Allison go from sweet and innocent, to confused and temperamental, to violent and headstrong, then back to a weakened state before turning completely into a hardened exterior of revenge. Stiles understood why she kept changing, but her shifting personality couldn't help but throw doubts of bipolar and crazy. But she nonetheless changed. Jackson- well, Jackson was still an ass. Just an ass covered with reptilian skin and a tail coming out of that ass.
And Lydia. Stiles heart still skipped a pathetic beat at her name, bringing up imagery of strawberry blonde false curled hair. She was so normal last year. Not normal, no, she was faking normal but living it up in the popularity. She was never normal, with brains like that and looks like that. But she lost it all. She lost her status to Jackson and part of the town thinking her insane. She lost her mind to Peter. She lost her self to the long nights of crying. Stiles still thought she was beautiful, thought she was perfect even with her flaws, and he wanted nothing more than to take her back to the normal that she craved. She could do it. She could go back to normal, forget everything and revert back to being a normal teenager.
But Stiles couldn't. He knew he couldn't. Couldn't forget, couldn't change back and couldn't pretend that his life hadn't changed.
Derek doubted. He doubted the slightest possibility that Stiles could, but he had to give the boy the option, despite dreading he would take it. "The argents won't come after you. You can still-"
"Forget it!" Stiles exclaimed defiantly. "I'm not leaving this werewolf business. I can't go back to normal. I refuse to."
Derek nodded stiffly, he had expected that response. "Then Scott will come after you."
Stiles paused, ready to say how he could handle it. He could calm down Scott, find another anchor besides Allison. He could do something. But somewhere a voice whispered up from his gut- he knew he couldn't. If what Derek said was true, than there was no way Stiles could handle his best friend attacking him. Certainly not mentally, and not physically. Stiles was scrawny, at best, and fighting against a werewolf hopped up on alpha steroids wouldn't be a fair match.
"Then is that it?" Stiles muttered, not even masking his disappointment. "Those are the only two options?"
The slight tilting of Derek's head confirmed Stiles fear.
"Hasn't this happened before? I can't be the first human in this situation…" Stiles said suggestively, trying to trigger some memory Derek might have ever heard, some story, some rumor, somebody he could ask. Something- there had to be something more!
"No, you're not." Derek said, causing Stiles eyebrows to perk up in excitement, "But most of them aren't as… stubborn as you on their humanity. They typically choose to turn."
Derek couldn't help but get his hopes up. If Stiles just said yes to the bite, if he turned like every other human would decide to do, then everything would fall into place. Stiles would fit flawlessly into his pack; he knew everything if not more than the other wolves. He could adapt, calm the others even. It would make everything already. Him joining the pack would even bring Scott over to the pack too- diminish that alpha quality stirring in Scott and make him accept Derek. Even then, Derek may have the strength to defeat the Kanima and possibly the hunters. If Stiles would just say yes.
Stiles shook his head, more determined than ever to hold onto his humanity. He could see why other humans in his position would falter and give in to the temptation of the bite. But he couldn't. He had too much humanity in him for that.
That's it. The only two options. His jaw hung open and his hands fiddled uncomfortably on the bed top. He felt as if a brick was west on top of stomach, pressure sinking into his heart, and he felt numb. It wasn't sadness, it wasn't disappointment, and it wasn't even anger. It was just empty.
"Then what do you want to do?" Derek asked, seeing the vacant expression that had flooded into Stiles eyes.
"I don't know!" Stiles shouted. His frustration swept through him. He didn't like either option. "There's not a class to handle finding out your best friend is going to kill you and the only way to save yourself is to leave him or become the thing you hate most! I just don't know…" He rubbed his clammy fingers against the edge of his forehead. He wasn't prepared for this; nobody could ever be prepared for this.
He couldn't take it right then. He felt his breaths growing shorter and the panic stirring in his belly. The stress mounted his mind and more frustration filled his sorrows.
The thing you hate most. Derek had to pretend that the words didn't sting him. "You don't have much time." Derek pressured.
Stiles eyes drifted over to the clock. Hours had passed and the dull sunlight flooded the room through the boarded up windows. Stiles launched himself off the bed. "I need to think about this."
Derek nodded in agreement. He stood up off the bed, preparing to take his leave from the room, assuming Stiles wanted time alone to think about his decision.
Not here. Stiles thought. I can't think about this here. I don't even want to think about it anymore…
"I'm going to school." Stiles remarked as Derek's hand wrapped around the door handle.
Derek's headed whipped around, his eyes stunned in shock. "You're what?"
"Going. To. School." Stiles repeated, straightening his shirt over his body and fidgeting with the pockets in his pants, tucking them and pulling them back out again.
"No, you're not." Derek said firmly, his mind solely focused on one thing Scott will be there.
Stiles thoughts followed the same line but he ignored the pressing weight of Scott on his chest. "Weird, I know, for a kid to actually want to go to school. But I need to think about this."
"Then do it here!" Derek exclaimed. He had gone to so much to get Stiles here; he couldn't believe Stiles would just want to leave like that.
"Right, I'm not making my life decisions in here." Stiles gestured to the decaying wall. He wanted to think about it in peace, not surrounded by decaying features, the scent of must and werewolves, and in an environment he felt constantly threatened in.
Derek was about to ask, why school when Stiles interjected "Besides, no matter what I do I still have to go to school. I'd rather not fall further and further behind in class."
Derek realized there was no arguing with Stiles. The boy was determined. But Derek tried one last time, "Stiles, go home, go to the park, but not to school."
"Thanks for caring about my education." Stiles shot back. He didn't need his dad to get any more absent notices. He didn't need to fall hours behind in all of his classes. He didn't need all of that on top of everything else in his life.
Derek gave up. "Fine. Do what you want." He said bitterly. "But Erika will drive you and escort you to classes."
"I don't need a chaperone." Stiles said, but he was internally grateful for the little protection that Erika would provide him.
Derek dialed the girl's phone number and she flew down the school, eager to snatch the keys to Derek's prized car and drive Stiles back to his house to pick up his bags. The ride was more over in silence as Stiles let out a few comments about breakfast, but quieted down, rested his head against the cool frame of the car door for most the ride.
The alpha watched the pair leave his house, worry strung out across his face. He had given Erika strict orders to not let Stiles out of her sight and tail him around school. Part of him wanted to warn Stiles against Scott, but he knew it was pointless. Stiles would make his own choice of whether he wanted to see Scott again.
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The first period bell rung with a dim chime and Stiles slowly shuffled to class, dragging his feet against the floor. Erika had tailed him all the way to school, but he quickly lied to her about her schedule and dodged her. He wanted to be alone. Well, as alone as a boy can get in a crowded public school. He didn't really want to go to school and suffer through the 7 hours of pointless classes. But he needed to get out of that house, out of that room, away from everything.
He turned to corner to approach his English room, when he halted and saw Scott peering inside. That brown shaggy hair was hard to miss, leaning into the room with his hands dangling at his sides. Even without wolf hearing he could hear Scott calling Stiles name and the teacher shaking his head, saying he hadn't shown up.
Stiles heart stopped at the very sight of his friend, a weight crushing into his body. All he saw was Scotts face when he chose Allison stirring in his mind- that was all he saw.
Stiles bolted behind the lockers, books clasped tight to his chest, trying to not breathe or attract Scott's attention. He even tried to think of oranges and peaches, anything to even change his scent. He prayed Scott wouldn't find him. And that was what it had come to, hiding from his best friend.
The other teen looked crestfallen and slumped away from the English room, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his hair littered over his eyes. He left off down some hallway, probably towards his first period. The late bell rang and Stiles waited another minute before hurrying down the hall to his classroom, peeking out to make sure the coast was clear of his best friend.
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It dawned on Stiles about halfway through English that maybe going to school wasn't the best plan. True, the mindless ramblings of hamlet calmed his mind down from the tense and elevated state it had been in. But this was English. And next period was chemistry. With Scott.
I'll just ditch. Stiles thought carelessly. But then guilt tormented his chest and he remembered the conniving face of his science teacher. Mr. Harris had it out for Stiles. Last time Stiles ditched, he ended up with days of detention and several angry phone calls home, not to mention a thick layer of chalk in his throat from clapping erasers. He couldn't risk the phone calls home. He didn't want his dad to worry, to think anything was wrong when really everything was wrong. His dad could get curious, his dad could get hurt, and Stiles would just have to lie and lie again his father.
No, he would have to go. He decided with a brave face.
And so when the bell for English dismissed him, Stiles hung his head and walked towards the science room, dragging his feet dreadfully in ever step. Erika was supposed to meet him at the doorway, but he spied down the hall, reveling in her newfound beauty and confidence, flirting with some jock on the football team. Stiles quietly sneaked past her.
Maybe Scott won't be there. Scott never showed up to science anyways. He didn't know anything about chemistry. Especially the obvious lack of chemistry between him and Allison after she flipped a psycho switch.
But of course the moment Stiles took his seat, sitting next to Danny who shot a confused look, the familiar brunette dashed into class. That unkempt hair shagged over loosely in his eyes as Scott let out a wide smile of relief at Stiles face in the class room. It hurt Stiles to look at him.
There was so much joy on his face. He had never looked at Allison with that expression, and Stiles knew it. That was pure joy as Scott screamed Stiles name, attracting the attention of the entire class who turned to witness as Scott bolted over to where Stiles was sitting. His palms landed down lightly on the desk, leaning over top with his chest. He tried to usher Danny out of his seat and just as the boy was getting ready to gather his books Stiles said "No, Danny, it's alright. Stay. Scott can go sit with Allison up there." Stiles gestured bitterly with his hand up near the front of the room where Allison was sitting, her head whipped around and staring at the two.
Scott's words caught out in his mouth. "But, I was kind of hoping to sit with you today."
Stiles looked up, meeting Scott's eyes. "Well, unfortunately I don't quite feel like sitting next to you."
Danny gave the pair wide eyes, dreading being stuck between the tense pair.
Mr. Harris interrupted. "Is there a problem boys?"
Scott stared at his best friend for a brief moment, the word of sorry lingering on his swollen tongue. He just stood there, staring at Stiles. Stiles had never said anything like that to him. Stiles wasn't the stubborn one in their relationship, he was the forgiver, the one who always gave in first.
"Mr. McCall. Is there a problem?" The teacher asked again, hitting his ruler anxiously against the desk. The loud tap sounded around the classroom as the entire group of students was broken into silence, watching with beady little eyes.
Scott continued to stand in the middle of the room, refusing to break eye contact with Stiles. He mouthed the quiet word of "please", but Stiles turned his head down and pulled out random notebooks from his backpack.
"Sit down Scott or you will have so much detention that you may start to call this miserable classroom home." Nobody laughed.
The room was tense as Scott scooted over to his desk, throwing his backpack down roughly on the floor and sitting down. A loud squeak emitted from his chair as it slid back across the tiled floor. Allison comfortingly rubbed her hand against his arm, but Scott just stared at the blank desk with an even blanker expression.
Stiles let out a stiff sigh as Mr. Harris began talking about chemicals. Or isotopes. Or the reproductive system. Stiles wasn't even paying attention. His mind was fumbling over thoughts and he couldn't make a complete sentence in his mind.
For the first five minutes, Stiles avoided any eye contact with Scott, not even to glance at the back of his head. But after the droning of Mr. Harris reached his ears, his eyes couldn't help but linger over to Scotts head, almost out of reflex as he did it on a regular basis. But the moment he turned his neck slightly, he found his eye meeting with Scotts- rather than the back of his head. Chills shot down Stiles spin as he turned away, but he could still feel Scott's eyes glaring into him for the entire class.
Stiles stared up at the clock, anxiously drumming his fingers against the desk edge, much to the annoyance of Danny.
About halfway through class he felt a tap on his shoulder. His paranoia overtook him and he turned around sharply, nearly tipping his chair as it stuttered on two legs. His eyes were wide in fear, as Danny's were wide in confusion. "From Scott…" Danny muttered quietly and cautiously, seeing how strung out Stiles was.
Danny stuffed a folded note into Stiles fidgeting fingers.
I'm so sorry- Was all it read to Stiles at first
Ha. Sorry. I know you are. But so am I. Sorry I let you do all of that to me. Stiles was about to bitterly crumple it up, smash it between his fingers and never let it see the light of day again, when he saw more words.
But you're alive. And human. Stiles always hated Scott's handwriting; it was so scribbled out and sloppy.
What happened? The note asked him on the next line down.
Stiles tried to convince himself that Scott really didn't care, he just felt bad. But he looked up and met the other brown set of eyes and knew he cared.
He wanted to tell Scott about the werewolf scent on him, about the newborn raging alpha inside of Scott. But he couldn't. Derek warned him against letting Scott know any of that as it would automatically trigger the alpha reflex and defensive nature. But Stiles couldn't take it. He pressed the note into fist and shoved it into his pocket. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Scott's face fall and wince.
And slowly the class ticked by. Dragging on and on as Stiles refused to glance over at Scott whose eyes never left him, watching Stiles instead of the blackboard. Another few ticks of the clock. Stile stared agonizingly at the clock, begging for it to go by faster.
The bell finally rang, its dull thudding echoing across the classroom which soon erupted in a buzz. Stiles considered bolting out the room, gathering his stuff and just dashing, pushing past the line crowding at the door and leaving. But he knew Harris would yell cruel words at him, possibly give him detention. And it didn't matter how fast Stiles ran- Scott could catch him.
So instead he took as long as he could before going to P.E. He packed his books into his bag at a snail pace, slowly stuffing them into his worn out back pack and closing the zipper with a tired screech. Bu when he looked up Scott was still there, standing closer to him, watching Stiles movements.
"Stiles…" Scott murmured out. Stiles could have sworn he saw a tear, or red eyes. He looked hurt. Stiles heart dropped down again.
He felt the air begin to slip out of his lungs. This was drowning. This was seeing your best friends face and cringing. This was pain that clutched down on your ribs and pushed, pushed, pushed until every bone snapped and collapsed onto your heart with a terrifying weight. This was pain, watching your best friend hurt because of you, because you hate him because he loves somebody more. It wasn't jealousy, it was pain. It was drowning.
"Scott." Stiles replied harshly, storming passed Scott and running his shoulder into the other teen, though it ended up hurting him more. Scott couldn't see his face as Stiles winced dramatically as he shoulder began to hurt from the purposeful collision.
"Look, I know you don't want to talk to me right now but-" Scott began, turning around making loose gestures with his hands.
"Damn straight I don't want to talk to you right now." It came out harsher than Stiles intended. Stiles marched out of Mr. Harris's room and the teacher spared no time shooting the teen a harsh look.
"At least let me explain." Scott pleaded, reaching for Stiles shoulder to turn him to face Scott. He had to chase Stiles down the hallway slightly as Stiles started speed walking away, his feet never quite leaving the ground.
"You did explain." At Derek's house. Stiles didn't want to sound so harsh. But Scott broke his heart and Derek fed the fire, prodding it until nothing more than ashes.
Stiles looked frantically around for Erika. He spied the blonde halfway down the hallway and he gave her a set of wide eyes. Even from the distance he could see the edges of fangs poking from her lip glossed over mouth.
Scott continued to beret Stiles, hounding him down with apologies. Stiles wanted to forgive Scott, to turn around and say everything is forgiven, that everything could go back to normal. Stiles wasn't sure if Scott knew why he was so upset at him. Sure, the choosing Allison over him played a large, crushing role in the mood. But Stiles had come to realize the terrible friend that Scott had begun- the ditching, the lying, the ignoring, and the just plain taking advantage of the giving character that Stiles encompassed.
Erika bolted down the hallway, swooping in at Stiles right. "Everything alright here?" She asked with a dangerous expression, her eyes bore into Scott's chest.
"No, Erika. Obviously things are not alright." Scott shot back. He didn't want to be bothered with her. He turned his harsh glare into a softer look at Stiles as he began to beg. "Please, Stiles. Can we just talk about this?"
Stiles could feel his normal endless patience running dry and his frustration with his best friend grew even fiercer. He wanted to yell at Scott to shut up, to get out of his life. For both of their sakes. But instead, he just shook his head, ignoring Scott's pleas.
"No." Stiles muttered out.
"You heard the man." Erika chimed in, picking up on Stiles discomfort. "Shoo. Be gone. Get lost. Go cuddle with your girlfriend or something."
Scott temper flared at the remark and turned to see Erika's expression in a smirk that reached across her face. His claws flexed out of his fingertips, ready to sink them into that overextended neck that rested on her body- maybe rip out her organs. Scott could do it, he was stronger, and he had mastered the wolf thing better than she had.
"Erika…" Stiles trailed out. He shot her look that said that's enough. She shrugged with a slight pout on her lip.
Scott and Erika continued to walk down the hallway with Stiles sandwiched between them. The group soon found themselves at the locker room and Erika stood outside the men's locker room, waiting for Stiles to enter.
"Uh," Stiles began to stutter out as it looked like she may enter in after them. "You know you're a girl right?" I know because of how many times you've thrust your breasts into my face in some twisted seduction technique.
Erika let out a snarky laugh and stormed off towards the lady locker room, leaving Stiles with Scott awkwardly standing at his side. Stiles stared at the door, debated whether it was worth it to go in or not. He never really felt like getting physical exercise, he wasn't fat, he didn't need it. Besides, running from the Kanima and werewolves kept his lanky frame in shape. And he was already exhausted from his attempts at avoiding Scott.
But he realized that if he turned back now, at the doorway of his next class, it would be weak; pathetic even. Scott would be able to see how afraid he was. And Stiles refused to let that happen, so he swung open the door and went inside the locker room.
He went to his normal assigned locker, removing a pile of clothes from the locker. He looked dismally at the pile. Shorts. Socks. Shoes. Not a shirt.
Stiles grimaced, reminding himself how he had given Scott an extra shirt because his was sweaty and he had a date with Allison.
And so Stiles stood there shirtless, trying to not show on his face how upset he was. He glanced around the room, trying to see if anybody was there that would lend him a shirt- maybe Danny, that boy always had extras. But he was gone. As was everybody else. The locker room was hollow inside except for Stiles. And Scott.
Scott thrust a shirt in front of Stiles. It still reeked of Allison's perfume. Stiles heavily debated taking the shirt or going home or showing up to P.E. with his bare chest showing to the mockery of the world.
With a frustrated sigh Stiles reached out and took the shirt from Scott hands, quickly throwing it over his body and heading towards the exit doors.
Suddenly Scotts hand was placed on Stiles shoulder, spinning the teen away forcefully.
"Stiles. Please. You have to understand I didn't want to have to make that choice." Scott said.
It wasn't just that choice. It was everything. And I'm getting damn tired of you apologizing, you're a broken record. Stiles stayed silent, staring at his friend with blank eyes and a plain expression.
"Please Stiles. I didn't want to let you go!" Scott felt his voice rising to a shout.
"And yet you chose her…" Stiles muttered out, but with the acute werewolf senses Scott easily picked up.
"I love her" Scott said. "And I need you. I can't do this without you Stiles."
"That's the thing Scott- You can." Stiles responded. "You can do all of this without me. You don't NEED me. You just want to use me, to cover up everything else, to be there to pick you up when you fall, to be the damn road kill in your line of fire!"
Scott was about to say something when Stiles rolled over him "I'm HUMAN Scott! You don't need me to fight your battles. I can't help you. With anything. Not with your Kanima or furry problems or girlfriend issues or mommy issues. I have my own problems, in case you didn't ever notice!"
Scott was speechless. He had to say something, something more to his best friend who was dangerously close to breaking down in front of him. But all he could muster out was a weak apology. "I'm sorry Stiles-"
"STOP APOLOGIZING." Stiles exclaimed back. Take some God Damn responsibility for once! "You had a choice, and you made it. You made your bed so lie in it for a little while!"
"Damnit Stiles!" Scott roared out in the empty locker room. His voice bounced off of the metal hulls and reflected back to the pair with more intensity. "I didn't have a choice!"
"You had a choice!" Stiles screamed back, his voice echoed off the lockers.
Stiles looked around to see Scotts face, expecting it to be sad. He expected a crushed face that he had seen in the chemistry room. Maybe even a touch of anger, like in the hallways towards Erika. Instead he was met with a look of intensity he had never seen. Scott's eyes stabbed in Stiles and his upper lip began to curl into a snarl.
Within seconds Stiles was slammed against the locker, a small moan escaping his lips. He was really sick of being shoved into things.
"I never had a choice. I didn't have a choice in any of this!" Scot shouted. "I didn't choose to be a werewolf!"
His eyes flickered to a sick yellow and his claws projected, scruff already formed on the corners of his chin. His shift was beginning to happen.
"Scott?' Stiles whimpered out at the sight, his rage instantly fading from him. The facial hair had coated Scotts face and the fangs began to peer out under the lifted lips.
Scotts nose enflamed taking in large whiffs of Stiles scent. His head twitched sideways towards his shoulder at Stiles scent, which radiated off a mixture of fear as well as human as well as werewolf.
"This wouldn't have happened if you were a werewolf…" Scott leaned closer, pressing Stiles tighter to the locker. Stiles could feel the bulge of the locker pressing in a cool touch against his spine. Scott's claws traced the curves of Stiles weak biceps before pressing the arms against the back of the locker.
"Scott, hey, uhm, Stiles are friends. Not food." He said weakly, quoting finding nemo and casually letting the word friend slip out. Yet the claws continued to dig into his skin, causing the teen to wince. He felt his blood slip out from under the weight, dripping steadily to the floor.
"You don't understand. Why did it have to be me? Why couldn't it have been you?" Scott screamed out, pressing harder until his entire claws descended into Stiles flesh. His chest pressed into Stiles. Stiles began to breathe harder, feeling his chest press up against his friends. The cool of the locker almost stung from the heat that came off in waves from Scott's body.
The fingers continued to dig into Stiles arms, holes had formed and slippery blood was coating the tops of Scott's fingers.
Stiles eyes looked up from his arms where they had been transfixed by the pain of the leaking blood. His eyes drifted towards Scott's and Stiles mouth clamped shut when he saw them.
The pupils were gone. His fangs jarred out of his mouth and his eyes were nothing but yellow slits, sunken deep into his head.
Everything Derek had said was true. Scott was gone, lost to that wolf, that alpha, that thing in his mind.
"Scott…" Stiles muttered. The other teen leaned in towards Stiles neck. Stiles tried to minimize his neck, minimize the temptation and pressed his chin tightly to his chest. But Scott's hand flew up, soaking with Stiles arm blood, and pushed Stiles chin back up and met his brown eyes with yellow glowing ones.
Stiles knew he had been wrong earlier. This was like drowning. The air ceased flowing into his lungs; it simply stalled outside his mouth, never quite catching into his mouth with his tongue. This was pressure, sinking down, down, down. This was fear. This was everything Stiles felt in his nightmares.
Stiles chest heaved outwards, sucking in what breathe he could and he felt his own sweat touch the lining of Scott's shirt and terror filled his heart. "Please, Scott," he muttered out, "Don't. Don't turn me." He said bluntly, reading the possessive look in Scott's mind.
His fangs were barely an inch away from Stiles neck, begging to feed into the pulsing vein.
His- Stiles was his. And now Scott could smell Derek on his clothes, on his skin. The scent of the musty house and the musty blankets and the musty alpha all over his friend, his property, his Stiles- It was sickening.
Scott couldn't take it. He lowered his body over Stiles neck and his teeth begged to nip into the icy flesh. And just as he was pressing his teeth the pale, shaking body, Stiles raised his leg as quickly as he could.
And the blow connected to the werewolf's precious reproduction corners. The teen let out a yelp, hands immediately bolting down his golden gates and coddling them. His lower parts burned, and despite the tolerance for pain that came with being a werewolf, they continued to ache and agonize.
Stiles fell to the ground and attempted to slink away from his friend. He scrambled up and shot the other side of the room near the door. That could have been it. He thought darkly. That could have been my last moment of being human.
Scott's eyes shot open and Stiles let out a short sigh, seeing the normal brown return, all traces of the yellow fading from the shock and the pain.
"Stiles?" Scott asked innocently, feigning the ignorance of what had just happened- or almost happened. Stiles just shook his head, still feeling the warm breath on his neck and the claws submerged in his flesh.
"No, no, no" Scott panicked, taking a few steps towards Stiles who backed away just as many. "I'm so sorry! "
Scott continued to frantically apologize. Stiles looked up at his best friend, nearly in tears from the event. He had almost been turned, he had almost lost everything. And yet even in that moment his heart still gave out for Scott. He couldn't control his wolf anymore. And it was Stiles fault. This is hurting him more than it is me…
"Please," Stiles begged as his fingers laced around the cold metal door handle. "Don't follow me."
Stiles shot out of school, leaving Scott petrified in the locker room. The teen collapsed on the bench, his head held in his hands. He heard the door slam and he sat there for the remainder of the period, buried in his own grief.
Scott will turn me. Scott will kill me. Stiles thought, never quite believing how real everything Derek was saying was until he felt the drip of saliva fall onto his neck. Scott will turn me. Scott will kill me.
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Stiles left the school in a hurry and a strange sense of loss welled up inside of him. He didn't know where to go, he didn't know what do. So he found himself wandering around down town aimlessly for several hours. The city part of Beacon Hills was small, quaint at best. Stopping and wading through discount aisles in Wal-Mart and stumbling into random stores that he used to visit with his mother. He passed hours this way, window gazing with a blank and mindless face.
Eventually he wandered into his fathers work, the police station. It felt so familiar to his feet that eventually he knew he would wind up here.
He greeted the woman at the front desk, giving her a fake smile. He had become a regular there. She smiled back politely of course. He may not have been the sheriff's son anymore, but his father was still respected amongst the force and that trickled down to minimal respect for Stiles. Stiles gave the lady a quick wave and headed back towards his fathers office.
He saw his father and his heart swelled up. Stiles watched him from behind the dusty glass. His back was bent over a stack of greasy looking papers. He looked older. Wrinkles and frustration mapped out the corners of his face. He looked drained. Dark patches filled in the areas where the former sheriff hadn't seen sleep in weeks. Stiles wanted to hug him, tell him everything would be okay.
But he knew it wouldn't. The werewolf mess was going away. And it wasn't going to be okay. It wouldn't ever be the same e between the two men, but Stiles still felt a strong guilt and responsibility for his father. The werewolf problems were his problems which were his dad's problems which were problems that he couldn't share because that would just cause problems and Stiles knew for a fact that he couldn't handle any more problems.
He couldn't turn werewolf and add more to his fathers stress.
But he couldn't leave Scott alone in the world of werewolves either.
Staring blankly from behind the dirty glass a voice whispered, begging to Stiles to for once ask himself what HE wanted. If he really wanted the change or if he wanted to let go of everything he had learned. What he wanted. For once, Stiles realized he just needed to think of himself. His father could either handle the truth or learn to cope with the lies or watch their entire relationship crumble. Or Scott could learned to respect Stiles and leave him out or fall apart without Stiles help or constantly try to drag Stiles back into the werewolf mess- completely ignorant to how much Stiles was sacrificing for both of them. Stiles pushed those thoughts of his head. He just needed time to think for himself. Everyone else could come later.
And with his mind rambling, yet surprisingly numb, Stiles left the sheriffs office without greeting his father and headed towards home.
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It was a long walk and by the time he arrived night had begun to fall. His feet were sore and his brain pounded dismally with a sad headache. All he wanted was to sleep away the day and night and never wake up. He carefully unlocked his door and ascended up the stair case, his feet thumping hard against every step.
He didn't even bother turning the lights on, walking straight through the darkness and heaping piles of clothes and collapsed face first onto his bed. Immediately the comfort of his pillows comforted him. He tore off his shirt and tossed it aimlessly on the ground and closed his eyes in peace.
And immediately a voice shot out from the darkness to ruin that.
"I figured you would come back here." Derek cooed out. His dazzling blue eyes stood out from the darkness.
Stiles sat up with a bolt, slipping down to his knees and falling off the bed. He cursed rapidly under his breath. He glanced up and saw the window dangling open, a cool breeze floating over his curtains and drafting into the room.
"My window is not some freaking entry way to my room reserved for werewolves!" Stiles retorted. My closet is not a passage to Narnia and my window is not a free room pass!
"It is when you ditch Erika and don't even bother coming back to the house." Derek taunted.
Stiles pushed himself off the ground and stumbled towards his light, tripping with a lack of grace over a pile of boxers on his floor. He fingered the light and with a soft click the room was dimly illuminated.
The house- He seriously expected Stiles to come back and meet Derek there. Stiles felt no desire to return to that house- it was only filled with miserable memories. Stiles didn't know how Derek could stand to live there, especially with the scent of his dead family lurking the basement. "What the hell do you want now Derek? I'm really not in the mood so just cut to the chase." Stiles asked irritated.
Derek took a casual sniff, winding his way around the question. "You smell different." He said it as a statement, but it came out harsh with a shaved edge to it.
"And you smell the exact same. Are we done?" Stiles began to fidget with his finger tips, rubbing them gently against the lob of his ear out of nerves.
Derek inched closer to Stiles, who had regained his sitting position on the bed. "Scott." Derek said bluntly.
Even in the light Stiles could see the bright flash of red that surrounded Derek's eyes. It was blinding to look at, especially when the werewolf continued to lean forward on top of Stiles with a torn expression. "You smell like Scott." He repeated angrily.
"Oh, yeah, funny story about that actually. Mainly because the story isn't funny at all." Stiles muttered out, faking a dramatic laugh, as Derek pressed closer.
Stiles glanced down and saw the tips of claws extend and sink into his bed. He scooted back, another painful feeling of fear rising in his chest.
"What happened?" Derek demanded. His face was stern and his eyes were narrowed, focused on the squirming teen. Stiles felt his back bump against a wall after scooting further and further.
"You were right, okay?" Stiles said, hoping that was all Derek wanted to hear. Stiles didn't have a pride complex; he could admit when another person was right and when he was wrong. He just wanted Derek to nod and tell him things would be okay or that Stiles could make his choice soon. What he didn't want was for Derek to pry. But with claws that sharp and a face that determined, all the wolf could do was pry. He wanted, needed, to know what had happened.
And judging from the scent of fear and tears that lingered on his shirt and sweat from when he first walked into the room, Derek had a pretty good idea of what had happened.
"He tried to hurt you…" Derek muttered sniffing out the hormones of terror that rushed off of Stiles. They curled up his brain, increasing Derek's anger.
"Don't worry about it…" Stiles tried to dismiss the werewolf's rage. He didn't want him to go after Scott.
"This is exactly what I told you would happen!" Derek was pulling the 'I told you so' card and Stiles just went along, trying to calm the anger he could see pulling out in Derek's glowing red eyes.
"I know! I know!" Stiles said. His back was firmly pressed against the wall due to his continual backing up.
"What is wrong with you? Why would you even interact with him?" Derek shouted. His hands slammed into the wall above Stiles head.
I'm shirtless and pressed up against a wall- Again. I think I'm starting to see a pattern. I need to always, always, wear a shirt. Stiles thought as Derek's body squeezed over top of his.
"You mean because he's trying to kill me or because he's a crappy friend?" Stiles asked, not really wanting the answer. He was avoiding looking at Derek. He could almost feel the anger towards Scott and Stiles from his skin.
Derek growled loudly and felt his fingers trace the indents in Stiles arms. There were deep holes in his arms from Scott's claws. The pale flesh, interrupted by the gaping holes with blood stains still burnt into the skin. The burning touch of the wolf tickled the edges of Stiles skin with a strange sensation.
Derek's eyes shrunk at the arm holes. His rage only seethed more. He crushed his eyes together, trying to focus. When suddenly there was a change in Derek. His face became tight and constricted, as if in pain.
"Derek?" Stiles asked, sensing as the wolf's body rapidly became stiff. Worry crept into his tone. Derek looked in pain. Derek never looked in pain; he always hid it, keeping his strong appearance up. But he looked hurt, holding something back.
"Shut up." Derek replied shortly.
"Are you okay?" Stiles asked, ignoring the demand.
"Shut up!" He repeated louder, his head hung down as his hands began to clench in circles around Stiles arms. They squeezed the pale lining, first gently but became harder and harder, gripping the arms as if they were jelly stress balls.
"Derek…" Stiles muttered…you're hurting me.
"Shut up!" Derek looked up, his eyes rabidly glowing.
Stiles felt his lips glue shut as he looked at the alpha with wide eyes. His eyes weren't just red. They were coated with flecks of yellow and a bloodstained crimson hue overtook the bright red.
Derek could smell it all. The scent. The sweet scent of humans. The bitter scent of another werewolf, Scott. The familiar scent of his pack. All blended together. It was toxic. They mingled together in a sick way.
"I made up my mind." Stiles said ignoring the pain Derek looked like he was in to keep control of his wolf. Stiles voice stuttered out over the pain in his arms and furious look in Derek's eyes. "Just so you know… I want to stay human."
He wasn't sure what made him decide to tell Derek at that very moment. He thought it would calm the wolf down, give the wolf a solid rejection. Hell, Stiles wasn't sure what made him come to that conclusion; His father, his normality, his life. He wanted a life. He wanted peace, eventually. And the decision seemed to burn on his tongue and it never seemed more concrete until that moment when Derek's warm, tan flesh was on his, begging to nip at Stiles neck with a werewolf sense of lust. Stiles realized he didn't want that for himself. And so he let it glide off his tongue.
He imagined a weight being lifted off his shoulders at the word. But he immediately felt his shoulder instead tighten up as Derek's grip increased on Stiles arms, his fingers tempted to burrow in the same holes made by Scott.
Stiles was becoming incredibly sick of the pain, of the being pushed around, of the werewolves constantly letting their wolves take over. He was sick of being afraid. He was only human; he could only take so much.
Human. Stiles thought delicately. Such a strange concept. Sure, he considered Scott and Derek and the rest of the pack still human. But only in the loosest sense.
A deep growl raged from Derek's throat, sounding almost confused. "Human…" Stiles chocked out. All he wanted was for the wolf to recede, to pull back his hands and release the alpha grip on Derek's mind. Rejection- That's what Stiles was feeding the wolf- pure rejection. Hoping to tame the blaring animal inside of Derek.
Instead it only angered the wolf and Derek launched for Stiles neck. The fang barely grazed the edge of skin as Stiles swerved to the side out of reflex. He tried to break off Derek's grip, shaking wildly in his grasp, and the momentary shock from Derek about his bite missing caused the grip to loosen ever so lightly. That was just enough for Stiles to squirm briefly out of Derek's hands. With a quick spin Stiles broke free, dashing towards the door.
He couldn't hide his shock. Derek had tried to bite him.
He had offered Stiles the bite and Stiles had refused it. And here Derek was, not asking anymore.
"The situation with Scott, it's the exact same damn thing with you!" Stiles shouted angrily as his fingers pressed against the door. He realized why Derek did all of this. He wanted Stiles. He wanted Stiles in his pack, he wanted Stiles in his control, and he had the same alpha tendencies that Scott did. He wanted Stiles to choose the wolf side. That's why he broke him away from Scott, not because he cared that Stiles would turn a werewolf, but that it would be under Scotts control and not his. And the alpha in Derek couldn't take that. Another pack, sure, that would be bad. But a pack filled with one of his own renegades and Stiles. He wanted Stiles the same way that Scott did.
Derek turned around in confusion, fighting his wolf to regain control. A bit of blue peaked out from behind bloodstained eyes. "It's not like that Stiles!"
"Lies!" Stiles shouted back creaking open the door. He already had half of his body out the door.
"I thought you would be safer with me!"
"Safe?" Stiles eyes widened, a wild gesture swarming his hands. "None of this is safe! Ever!"
"Stiles! Wait" Derek cried out. He was trying to walk after the boy, but his head pounded, the wolf screaming for control back. The wolf slumped to his knees as the wolf howled in his mind. He could catch him still, he could turn him still, and it wasn't too late. He would forgive him. The wolf whispered into his mind. Stiles always forgives.
Derek thought dismissively, fighting the control of the wolf, trying to think of why he needed Stiles. He needed him for this very reason. Derek wanted him close, true, as the alpha control genes jutted through him. But he wanted him for who he was. He wanted him because even in the worst moments, Stiles was there when Derek had nobody. He wanted him because Stiles had a level head, unlike the raging tempers and hormonal sidetracked minds of himself and his pack. He wanted Stiles because deep down, Derek knew Stiles could help him fight back his wolf, learn to gain control, learn to negotiate, learn to be a leader. He needed Stiles, but Stiles didn't need him.
By the time Derek looked back up with what control he could muster, Stiles was gone, the door swinging weakly in his wake.
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Authors Note: Over 8000 words in this chapter. OH MY GOSH. That's about 3 times as long as every other chapter, if not more. I guess I was excited by the Season Finale tonight!
Review please lovely human beings reading my story! I appreciate it so much, you have no idea. I almost cried when I saw how many alerts and reviews and views I had. I've had more views than I have words- Which I don't think will hold true after this long, long chapter. But anyways, review!
1 more chapter left and an epilogue (probably)