Stiles stood there. Just staring at the house he once called a home, facing a possible death. In an odd way it would connect them all once again. All of the fallen in the same place. At the hands of the same people that killed Allison.

The house seemed empty. No one in it.

I suppose it would be abandoned.

He approached the front steps. He was about to knock on the door when it creaked open confirming his thoughts of being abandoned.

He held his breath steady and stepped inside. He would find the other hunters later. Right now he needed to see it. It wasn't healthy, but he needed to see the blood. The carnage of his house.

Only there was no blood.

In fact, it looked almost like it did before. The doors had been replaced, the glass from the shattered patio doors swept up.

The domesticity of it took his breath away. He saw the photo's on the mantle.

He approached them slowly and held them gently as if a touch would burn him. The frames had been replaced but the photo's had been treasured and kept safe. It touched at his heart.

The photo he was holding shattered that resolve. It was the photo taken at his 16th Birthday. He can see how distanced he looks as he fakes a smile. Aunt Kate and Allison kissing him on the cheeks. He puts it back in it's place.

That photo reminded him of the memories of this place and that this is all this place will ever be. It isn't a home anymore. It's a shell. A time capsule of memories he can never return to. Too much has happened and there isn't a place for him here any more. Deep down, he knew there never was.

''Stiles?'' A hesitant and astounded voice asks and he turns around to its pull.


A/N: I know. I like to be a tease ;)