Possible Trigger Warning: Stiles has a panic attack this chapter. I tried not to make it too bad, but I marked it with three stars (***) in case you want to skip it. I'll also leave a small summary in the Author's note below so you won't miss anything. Other than that, enjoy!
Stiles tapped his fingers against the gun Angelo had given him. He was the best shooter out of Macie and himself, so he would be going for the armed hunters while Macie took out the others. They had decided that Jennifer would be going on her own to find the harpy before it found them. He wasn't too sure at first, because what if it was already there? They'd be screwed without Jennifer's magic. However, she was adamant that she figured out where the thing was hiding and said she'd be back in time for the grand finale.
Stiles was assuming that was when he faced the person who took everything from him.
Angelo sighed over the phone and Stiles waited as patiently as he could for the man to say something. They'd gone over the plan more times than he thought was necessary and had discussed what steps to take if something were to go off the deep end. Really, he didn't know what else there was to say. Macie groaned in annoyance as her seat squeaked again and he dug into his bag to pull out some oil to toss to her. He was going to use it to fix his jeep, but alas he didn't get the chance before he was picked up.
"How confident are you in the strategies you've come up with?" Angelo finally asked.
Stiles bit his lip and glanced at his friends. The other people that were supposed to help them had already done their part in taking out the people who had yet to fly to the arranged meeting spot, so it had been the three of them and the plane's pilot for almost a day now.
"We won't leave behind survivors, if that's what you're asking." Jennifer told him confidently.
"Excellent. I see that you're going to land soon, so I'll let you go."
"Great," Stiles reached for the phone and sighed when his name was called. "What is it?"
"Take me off speaker. I want to talk to you privately."
Macie's eyebrows furrowed but she didn't say anything, instead taking Jennifer's arm and leading her to the back of their private plane. He looked skyward while he took the phone off speaker and put it to his ear. "Yeah?"
"How's your mental state?"
Stiles faltered and nearly dropped the phone. He swallowed before answering, mustering up all the smugness he could. "I've done this hundreds of times before, why the questions now?"
"Because you weren't going to meet the person whose actions have been torturing you for almost five years now. You could get yourself killed if you're in the wrong headspace Stiles, you know this. Without your training you'd be useless. Remember that."
"I know. Was that it?"
Angelo paused. "Back at the Hale house, you said that you owed your life to me."
He tapped his foot on the carpet uncertainty. "Yeah? But we both knew that already so-"
"If that's true," he interrupted roughly. "Then you make damn sure you come back alive, you hear me? No getting wrapped up in your thoughts, no deciding that some idea you've come up with in a second is better than the plan that all of us came up with together over the last three months, and no trying to be the hero and sacrificing yourself, got it? I know you're already starting to get anxious and your thoughts are probably through the roof right now, but remember what the goal here is. All you need to focus on is taking care of the hunters and all parties who associate with them."
"...You're asking me to ignore the fact that I'm about to see the person who killed my father and all of my friends. You're asking me to forget that I'll be in the same place as that person who took away my childhood family. Sorry, but I can't do that."
He was about to hang up, but Angelo's warning growl had him sighing as he waited a second longer. "Fine, Stiles. Say you do everything that I warned you about and you end up getting yourself killed. What do you expect me to say to the Hales, huh? Or that man that you didn't hesitate to kiss in front of me? That was your way of saying that you're moving on, right?"
"I-"
"I don't know whether moving on for you is joining your father and friends, wherever they may be, or if it's joining the Hales. Either way you owe them an explanation, more so since you're recognized as pack to them. I'm not going to do your dirty work for you, I never did before and I won't start now just because you're thinking and acting like a coward."
"Excuse me?" Stiles retorted dangerously. "I love you like a second father, Angelo, but I don't care for nor do I have time for your superiority complex. You may have taken me off the streets and given me a way of life to support myself, but never once did you ask if it was what I wanted. You know as well as I do that you were in deep shit when we met and the whole purpose of saving me was so you could train and teach me how you saw fit. If you never met me, where would you be right now? Think on that while I go and do what you're scared to, like the coward I am." He hung up the phone and tossed it onto the seat behind him, staring down at the circled blueprints in front of him.
He could feel Macie's eyes on him the entire time they got off the plane and met up with their 'guide', who in all actuality was the person who'd sneak them into the banquet in disguise of the catering service. Jennifer had disappeared the minute she got off the plane and Stiles managed to avoid the elephant Macie was dying to talk about until they were told by their guide to get in the back of the truck and put on the bakeries uniform in case they got searched.
So there they were, holding onto the flimsy handles on each side of the truck and sitting on wooden boxes that slid this way and that with every turn the vehicle took. Macie snorted when he almost lost his balance after a sharp turn and he turned to glare at her as he readjusted himself. "What're you laughing at?"
"Nothing. It's just, y'know." She waved her hand vaguely and her smile lost the hardened edge at the corners. "It reminds me of old times a bit, don't you think? The helicopter we took to Norway and the bunker we were stuck in 'cause of that tornado in Texas." She laughed lightly and looked at the roof of the truck. "I think the time we were snowed in was the best, though. I remember that like it was yesterday. You were so anxious to do something with yourself and got so angry when we woke up and the snow was blocking the door. Remember how you tried to use that big ass spoon as a shovel to get out from the window?"
Stiles blushed and looked away. "We don't talk about that."
"I think that's when I really thought of you as my partner." She went on as if he hadn't said anything and his throat narrowed as he listened to her. "There was this one time where you got so close to leaving but then you noticed that I couldn't go out because I forgot my damn jacket. I would've died from hypothermia for sure. I told you to go ahead and that I'd catch up but then you said-"
"I can't lose another friend, we both go together or we both tell Angelo that it couldn't be done." He recited the words from over four years ago and the silence was almost foreboding as neither of them spoke up.
Finally, Macie sighed and moved to sit on the floor next to him, holding onto his leg to support herself while she rested her head in his lap. His hand moved on autopilot and soon enough he was running his hands through her hair like he used to do with Lydia or Kira when they were too stressed with school and Scott, respectively.
"You found what you were looking for, huh?"
"Yeah… I think I did."
"So… you're done?"
Stiles sighed. That was the question, wasn't it? He'd been living this lifestyle and bonding with the same people for over four years now, there was no way he could just cut them off. They were like family now, no matter how annoying and sadistic they may be. They were comfort and familiarity, routine and stability.
The Hales, however, were chaotic and fun and innocent where he was focused and anxious and full of baggage. They were the complete opposite of him and everything he tried to avoid because he knew that they'd be able to see through him. And they did. It had taken them a substantially shorter amount of time than he'd predicted for them to worm their way under his skin and now that they were there… he didn't know what to do with them. Derek was a whole different story himself and it seemed like the more he chose to look at the bigger picture, the more choices he had.
Stiles wasn't good at making choices. And this one, deciding between comfort and familiarity and the overwhelming potential of family and what could be were tearing him apart.
Macie nudged his leg and he forced himself to remember how his vocal cords worked. "I… I don't know yet. There's no way I could make a decision that quickly, especially something as important as this."
"Yeah." She mumbled.
"But," he said lowly. It seemed like a criminal offense to talk any louder than that. "I am going to take a break. I want to get my head straight before going back to the Hales and Derek. I want to show them that I'm not just some wandering henchman or something, y'know? That whole love yourself first thing, I'm going to need to do that before I go back, sort myself out I mean."
Macie stared ahead of them and if he didn't know any better, he'd say it was somewhat wistful in it's appearance. "A break, huh?"
"Four on my right, three more behind them." Stiles mumbled. Macie gave a short nod and without wasting another second they darted out from behind the entrance pillar. Stiles shot the first man in the chest, watching apathetically as he dropped to the ground in a pitiful heap. Macie stuck to the walls and headed towards the back and he made sure to keep the attention on himself to give her as much time as he could.
He heard footsteps from behind him and ducked just in time for a fist to fly over his head. The woman behind him drew her elbow back and down, but he managed to pull out his blade and cut her hamstring while he rolled out of the way.
"You bastard!" She screamed.
Stiles groaned when three men heard her and changed their direction to run towards him. "Now look what you've done," He mumbled, placing his hands on either side of her neck as he held eye contact with the men ahead, monitoring their hands that enveloped guns. "You've just made this more difficult than it needed to be."
Her eyes widened when he tightened his grip and she let out a pained yelp before he swiftly snapped her neck, letting her body fall to his side as he drew out the gun in his left hand. They all had their guns drawn out but refrained from shooting him. Frowning, he chanced a glance behind him, his confusion growing when nothing was there.
"Amateurs," He remembered. "You're nothing more than a man who just learned how to hold a gun, let alone use it."
The first one glared at him and pulled the trigger, scowling when the bullet missed him. Stiles smirked and shook his foot so the woman's arm slid off of it, strolling over to them confidently. "Allow me to demonstrate for you what a proper shot looks like."
He aimed his gun and two back to back shots went off, the bodies on either side of the man in front crashing onto the tiles. His footsteps faltered and his arm shook slightly as he put on a front and pointed it at Stiles' chest, which, really, he didn't have the time for. This was the day he'd get his questions from all those years ago answered and he wasn't about to let some lowlife take that opportunity from him. He pulled the trigger with a scoff and walked past the pile of bodies he'd left behind him, meeting up with Macie at the end of the hall.
There was a large double door there that was bracketed by large pillars on either side and Stiles gestured to Macie. Eyeing each other for a second, he took a deep breath and took a step. Macie would be right behind him, ready to run along the walls while the enemy was distracted and take them by surprise from the back.
The minute they opened the banquet door, a quick succession of shots went off. Stiles moved aside on pure muscle memory, throwing himself to the other side of the door and aimed his gun while he gripped his dagger tighter. The door slammed shut and he looked to his right with wide eyes, a soft breath of relief escaping him when he saw that Macie was fine.
"You're a better shot than me, aim at their legs and I'll try to get their upper body since it's a bigger target that I'll have." She whispered, pulling out a pistol from her thigh strap.
"We have to get up though, they'll be expecting us to be on the ground. Hopefully they'll think they got some shots in so we can take them off guard that way. Unless…" He scanned the area as fast as he could, taking note of the crate of wine glasses in the corner and the half empty container of oil. He felt for his flask and licked his lips before getting her attention, although it seemed that it never left him. "We can make a Molotov cocktail, we've got all the things we need for it. You still carry that lighter and lube I gave you for your seat on the plane, right? The oil based one?"
"Yeah, but… won't they be out here by then? As it is we've been here for a solid minute and somebody must have told them that we're here since they were ready for us, Stiles."
"Which is why I'll hold them off while you make it. You remember how, yeah?" He smirked at her as he tossed his flask, watching as she ran to the crate after giving him a determined nod. A footstep, some muttered words, then another person joining the first before Stiles heard the erratic stomping of the hunters heading towards the door.
Cursing under his breath, he stood up as fast as he could and hid behind the pillar. He listened for the people to stop before he rounded the stone and shot the first two people he saw, one in the hip and the other in the hand that was holding his gun. The last one looked around frantically and Stiles nearly face palmed when he saw Macie trying to sneak in, Molotov cocktail in hand.
'What are you doing?' he mouthed.
She shook her head and shot the last one that was standing outside of the doors before responding. "It'll be faster to just open it and slide the bottle in."
He nodded and moved back behind the pillar. "Don't get yourself killed."
"Psh, don't forget who helped teach you, brat."
After their little contraption went off, the pace of their operation picked up at an exceptional rate. Stiles was immersed into the chaos head on, and after three months of recovering he was grateful for how his body had learned how to move on it's own. He'd lost count of how many fists and kicks he'd dodged, how many bullets had slipped by his ear a second late. He knew he'd been hit, but he didn't know where exactly, his adrenaline too high for him to comprehend the pain. It couldn't be that bad, though. He was sure he'd be feeling it if it were deep so it was probably a light scratch.
Either way, the bitter scent of iron wasn't doing him any favors. Macie had taken out a little less than half of their group and was helping him out with the ones left over, glancing back at him before she killed them. Stiles was growing frustrated, extremely so, actually. He had been told that his family's murderer would be here and yet he hasn't seen his face once.
Throwing his elbow back roughly, he took a deep breath to calm himself while the woman behind him fell. This was no time to get ahead of himself. He opened the -hopefully- last door and was relieved when it was just two people, one of which was the man he'd been looking forward to finding.
His focus narrowed until he was only registering the man in front of him, Macie and the other man forgotten. There was a tense silence where everybody was just staring at one another - and then the man who held the responsibility of killing everything Stiles grew up with smirked at him.
Stiles snapped.
The man's eyes widened as Stiles charged at him and in less than a minute the two of them were exchanging blows. He knew he had questions to ask but right now, more than anything, he wanted the man to pay. He heard a gunshot and saw the other man fall to the side of them and had a brief moment of thinking how anticlimactic Macie made it, but then he'd realized the sense of privacy she was trying to give him as the large doors slammed behind her.
The man rammed the butt of his gun into Stiles' shoulder and he hissed as the sudden flash of pain brought him to his knees. "You," the man gasped. "You really don't give up, huh?"
Stiles nearly laughed as he rose to his feet again, his adrenaline dying out as he watched his target pant against the wall, his hands on his knees and regarding him carefully. "I can't think of one reason why I wouldn't want to get vengeance."
"Vengeance? What're ya talking about?"
"I'm talking about how you killed six innocent teenagers and a sheriff from a small town in California." Stiles reloaded his gun and watched as the man's eyebrows furrowed before recognition lit up his features, followed by his face growing pale and his legs giving out on him. He glanced towards the exit and Stiles took that as his hint to continue. "I take it you remember now?"
"You… the little house on the corner?"
"Bingo."
"I thought I'd-"
Stiles cocked the gun and aimed it at him steadily, a malicious smirk settling on his face as he stared down at him. "I have questions to ask you and every time I don't like what I hear, you get shot. It's a pretty simple system I decided on, so you should have no problem keeping up. Now, first thing's first. Why was the sheriff targeted? You people had a whole town to choose from, so why us?"
The man scoffed and settled against the wall, as if he were already bored with the conversation. "That's what you start off with? Psh, what'd I expect from a brat." He shrugged and smirked back up at him. "That man was known to go after cases that had already been dropped. If we didn't get rid of him first then we'd have a whole bunch of problems later."
"So you killed him."
"Hopefully. I couldn't really aim right since I was watchin' the street. I'm a law abiding citizen, after-" His voice cut off into a shrill scream and he stared wide eyed at the hole an inch away from his ear.
"Quiet." Stiles demanded. He knew that he was shaking, could see the light tremors spreading to his gun as he tried to pull himself together. Everything that had happened, everything that he'd gone through was just because of a lie that Kate had told? This man couldn't have been a trained hunter, he doubted he even knew about the supernatural with the way he was staring at him as if he were a monster.
"What would you get from it? You had no idea what business you were getting yourself into nor what your work would entail. Why risk it?"
"My girl broke it off with me after finding me with her cousin. A couple lawsuits later I had no house, no family, no job. What'd I have to lose? And really, what she was describing to me didn't sound so bad. Keeping track of numbers all day? Even I could do that."
Stiles knew he wouldn't be getting much else out of him. He didn't notice it before, but now that the man was staying still, he could tell how his eyes were bloodshot and how his body seemed to be swaying jerkily. He sighed heavily and examined his gun while he asked his last question.
"Hah? What was that?"
"I asked if you were satisfied, knowing that the son of the sheriff is standing in front of you right now, knowing that you took away his entire life and traumatized everybody in that small town that you never looked back at. Are you happy with yourself now? Did you give yourself a pat on the back yet?"
"Wait, the son of-" He got to his legs shakily and pointed at him, a drunken grin crossing his face as he took him in. "You're the one that was wearing the Batman shirt, yeah? The one who was getting yelled at by the sexy redhead? I have to thank you, actually. If it weren't for you having that idea to throw that party I wouldn't have had such a good opportunity for me to take him out. So thanks kid, you helped me kill your father. And I don't know what you're planning for your 'vengeance' as you put it, but you won't kill me," The man said confidently. "Y'know, killing a killer only makes another killer and all that. What would daddy dearest think, his only son going around murdering people. Really, if you think about it, your sentence is worse than mine is."
Stiles stiffened and the last string that was holding his control snapped. He shot the man's foot, unfazed when he collapsed with a pained yell.
"Lydia Martin." He shot the other one.
"Jackson Whittemore." He moved along the man's body as he recalled his friend's names, ignoring the stinging of his eyes and the burning sensation along his sinuses as he did so. He shot both of his shoulders and aimed just a hair above his skull.
"Scott McCall. Sheriff John Stilinski." He took a shaky breath and felt a tear slip as he shot the last bullet.
"Mieczysław Stilinski."
It wasn't until they were back in the small jet Angelo had sent for them that Macie said anything. Stiles' mind was still humming and his skin felt way too tight for the thoughts and emotions that he was sure it would just crack under the pressure any time now.
"I'm surprised you left him alive." Macie mused softly, her tone gentle.
Stiles shrugged and crossed his arms, glancing out the window to the ocean beneath them. "I wouldn't say I left him alive. I gave him to Jennifer and knowing her, she'll do things to him that are worse than I ever could have."
"I just thought that you for sure would have killed him. I mean, you've been after him since you were eighteen."
"I'm aware."
She hesitated before scooting closer to him so that their thighs were touching, but didn't initiate any other contact. "Why'd you say your name, too?"
"Because he killed everything that made me myself back then. He took away what I stood for and what I was looking forward to. I'm just Stiles now, a fragment of a name that used to mean everything but hardly means anything."
Her lips twisted into a sad frown, her head resting on his shoulder. "You know you can just...leave, right? Put all this behind you? I know you said you wanted to take a break, but…"
Stiles shook his head and threw caution to the wind when his mind started to go blank, embracing it wholeheartedly instead of trying to fight it like he usually would. What was the point? "I owe Angelo. I can't just quit, that's not how this works."
He turned his back to her when she opened her mouth, hoping that she would get the message. Of course, he should've known better because if there was one thing that she had to have, it was always the last word.
"He owes you too, y'know."
He waited until she huffed and pulled out her laptop to set up Netflix before he swallowed heavily and squeezed his eyes shut. He would have all the time to cry later but right now, he had to endure the flight back.
That's all he had to do and it paled in comparison to the other things he'd already done, so why, why was it so damn hard to keep his tears at bay?
Stiles didn't bother getting into the cab sent by Angelo, but he managed to give Macie a twitch of his lips as he sent her off. They'd done it, after all. Completed another mission together and kept one another alive. It was something they'd usually celebrate and yet Stiles couldn't think of anything he'd hate to do more than that.
"You want to crash at my place?" Jennifer offered. "I already set up that worthless man somewhere else, so you won't be seeing him ever again."
"Thanks, but I'll pass."
A soft shoulder bump later and she was gone, too. Stiles looked around the vacant parking lot and ran his hand through his hair with a low groan. He was completely lost to where the first cab had taken them but knowing Angelo, it would be somewhere that had one of the, if not the lowest population in the state.
Just as he started to walk towards the street, a blue glint caught his eye and he looked back. There, under what was probably the only street light in the proximity, was his beloved Jeep. He turned tail and stumbled towards it, half from disbelief and half from exhaustion.
Stiles picked up the pristine folded piece of paper that was under the windshield wiper and unfolded it with shaky fingers. I had somebody deliver your car for you and thought about what you said. I'll be in touch. -A
He managed to pry open the backseat before his legs gave out and he was faintly aware that he landed on the floor of the Jeep between the seats rather than on the seat itself. He couldn't bring himself to care though, not when his hands were trembling and his heart was beating at a pace where he couldn't tell one pulse from another, not when his lungs couldn't expand and he was left gasping for air like a damn fish out of water.
Then the tears came and he didn't know what to think about anymore. The man's words came back to mind and he was filled with 'what ifs'. What if he hadn't planned the party? What if he moved out of the way or pushed his dad aside or saw the fucking car coming? How blind was he, not to see a car or hear the gunshots that had started four houses down. What if he had gotten over himself for once in his life and looked away from his selfish desires, had looked back at the street instead of thinking to himself how good Lydia was at makeup?
Lydia.
Stiles flailed, reaching for his phone that was in his pocket and crying harder when it slipped from his grasp. He wiped his nose on his sleeve and sniffed, trying to pull himself together while he picked up his phone and pulled up the dial pad. He wiped away his tears and tried his best to ignore the voice in his head that was screaming at him that she was dead, that they were all dead and it was his fault.
His breath hitched when the ringing stopped, only to come back at full force when he heard her voice telling him to call back later.
"Lydia," He started hoarsely. "He said that I killed him. Said that I helped them figure out where we were 'cause I planned the party at our house. I should've listened to you and agreed to have it at that park, there would've been more people and I could've done more than just call the police and run. I'm sorry that I wasn't smarter, that I choked up and ran instead of stayed and went to everybody's funeral. I'm sorry that you guys died because of my selfishness, it should've been me instead of-instead of you," he stuttered. "And I really miss you, Lyds. I miss you and Scott and Kira and Danny, Hell I even miss Jackson! I really miss my dad, too. I really miss him, Lyds and I don't know what to do anymore 'cause every time I wake up I always think that I shouldn't have been able to when you guys-"
The voicemail ended and Stiles let the phone slip to the floor as he bowed his head and sobbed into his arms. Really, what was the point anymore? He'd done what he's been trying to do since he graduated and now that his one goal was done, he had nothing left.
Derek's face popped into his mind, and then Peter and Devin, Valerie and Talia and Laura. The Hales were still alive and he knew that if there was anything that was left for him in this world, he would find it with them.
He had lost count of how much time had passed and he'd slept at odd intervals between multiple panic attacks. He was sure that he spent at least half of the following day in his car at least and had enough common sense to pull up his GPS. He didn't know what he would do when he got to the Hale house, but everything was better when you were in a place you were familiar with. At least he hoped it would be, anyway.
Talia woke up the following morning expecting what had become their usual routine. Derek and Peter would wake up and do a quick run to see if they could smell Michael and then after they found nothing they would come back sulking and eat their breakfast half heartedly. Afterwards they would continue working on translating the final pieces of the journal and pretend that they didn't perk up whenever they heard a car.
As much as she hated to say it, she wasn't doing any better. It didn't help that she felt her family's emotions along with her own. Some nights, when Derek would be falling over himself with worry, she would have to take him aside and try her best to calm him down with assuring words that she hoped and prayed weren't wrong.
She truly believed Michael would come back. She just didn't know what his condition would be when he did.
So when she woke up to prepare breakfast the following morning, she had no idea what to think when she saw a jeep that all but radiated all the negative emotions she could think of. Most worrying of all though, was the fact that Michael's scent was smothered in it.
Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she put her coffee on the counter and cautiously made her way down the hall where Michael's room had sat unoccupied for the last week. As soon as she turned the corner, she stumbled and put a hand on the wall for support. Talia had no idea how the others had slept this long, for the grief and guilt were nearly suffocating her and she hadn't even reached the door!
"Peter," She called through the hand that was covering her nose and mouth. "Wake up, I need you for a minute." There was no response and she took half a second to take on the quiet atmosphere before her family would inevitably break it. "Michael's back."
All at once, Peter's door slammed open and she could hear her kids and Devin thundering down the stairs, raising their voice to an ungodly level so their questions could be heard over one another. She growled lowly as a warning and soon enough everybody was standing in the hallway.
Devin gagged the minute his nose got assaulted by the foul smell. "I'll be in the kitchen," he huffed. "Tell me when it's gone."
Nobody bothered to say anything in favor for staring at the door as if it was the biggest threat any of them had ever faced. Even Laura was glaring at it which was something Talia shouldn't be surprised about, considering the amount of times she had taken the liberty of teaming up with Michael to tease Derek.
Derek, who looked as if he were five seconds away from kicking the door in. Peter grabbed his shoulder before he could and she sent him a thankful nod before glancing at everybody else, specifically Valerie who had just gotten back from a twelve hour shift but still looked like she would kill anybody in her way if she had to.
"I don't smell any blood," She tried to reassure. "But it's kind of hard to tell because of how much he's...emoting."
Laura snorted at her description and went up to the door, examining it. She turned around and before she could say anything Derek mumbled something bout mountain ash and forced the door open.
"Derek!"
Valerie's shout meant nothing and they barely got a glimpse of Michael's stagnant body on the bed before Derek shut the door again.
"Derek, you ass! You better let us in or-" Peter gripped Laura's fist that was pounding on the door and shook his head with a grim and understanding head jerk towards the door.
"Leave them be, I'm sure Derek will explain his reasoning when they come out but none of us are in the right mindset to confront anybody right now." He gave Talia a pointed look before herding them all out of the hall and into the kitchen, where Devin was grumbling while he searched for something to eat.
"Really now, you're at this age and you still don't know how to cook?" Valerie sighed. "C'mon, Talia and I'll show you how to make french toast."
Both Devin and Laura perked up and Talia gave a last backwards glance towards the hall before joining them, going a bit faster when she saw Devin messing with the knives. "Just 'cause we heal fast doesn't mean there won't be a mess to clean!"
Stiles jolted awake, eyes snapping open when arms yanked him into a warm chest. They tightened around his waist and shoulders, ensuring that he couldn't escape and if he weren't on the brink of resuming his crying he would've found the sentiment cute. Instead, he put his hands on Derek's sternum, unsure if he should push him away or pull him closer. The decision was made for him and in another second he was under the blankets with the wolf all but crushing him.
"Michael." Derek repeated his name like a mantra and nuzzled the top of his hair, which Stiles was sure didn't smell anywhere close to roses. He didn't care. For the first time since he left France, his mind was blank. He had cried for hours and hours in the car and he'd be shocked if he ever cried again afterwards.
Stiles was just tired now, the bone deep, mind numbing tired, where everything felt like a dream. Derek was doing a good job of convincing him otherwise, what with how he would tighten his grip occasionally. His mumbling had cut off into short grunts and growls, so low that Stiles would think he was hallucinating if it wasn't for how his chest vibrated along with it.
He clasped his hand more insistently on the shirt and leaned his head onto the chest, sighing when he got comfortable. He dozed on and off and even though he lost track of everything else, he had a keen sense of where Derek was. He didn't shift around too much but whenever he did a deep sense of dread would rile Stiles up and the wolf would waste no time in comforting him.
It was nice.
And then the questions started.
"What happened?" Derek asked softly, hoping to comfort him with his tone. Michael stopped playing with the bottom of his shirt and paused to take a shuddering breath.
"I don't know how much Peter told you already."
"He didn't tell us anything."
"Right. Okay then." Stiles debated with himself, wondering if telling it to everybody all at once would be easier but hesitating with the looks he was sure to receive. Repetitive sob story that he was sure to have at least one more panic attack over that week or all at once and seeing the pity he hated in the eyes of the people he trusted.
It wasn't as hard a decision as he thought it would be.
"What're you…" Derek trailed off and watched as he stood up and wrapped himself with the blanket before gesturing for him to get up also. After he had the man's arms secured in his grasp, he took a deep breath and led the way to the living room, coming to a stop when everybody turned their heads.
Derek moved to step in front of him but a small tug on his arm was enough to let him know it was fine.
"Uh. Hey, guys."
"It's good to have you back, Michael." Talia told him warmly. "You look like you have something to say."
"Yeah." He glanced at the couch, pleased when Peter was the only one sitting on it. "I figured I'd explain everything, answer your questions and whatnot. I don't know what I'm going to do now, and I thought you guys would be good to bounce ideas off. Y'know, once you heard everything I mean."
"We'd be happy to help you in any way we can. Let's talk in the living room, it'll be more comfortable in there."
"Right." Stiles sat himself beside Peter and tugged Derek down on the other side of him, shifting and adjusting the blanket until he was comfortable. He ignored the fact that Peter was staring holes into his head and licked his lips before starting. "I've been told that Peter hasn't said much, if anything, but I know that you lot aren't dumb so what did you pick up on your own?"
There was a brief silence before he started, like the Hales were giving him a last chance at an out. Talia was doing this weird twitching thing with her eyebrows and he had a small epiphany that oh, that's where Derek gets it from. Either way though, he'd made up his mind and the more time that passed where he didn't tell them, the harder it was going to be.
"Okay," he mumbled to himself, sitting straighter and steeling himself over. "So after graduating my friends and I threw this party at my house to celebrate and since most of us were antisocial assholes, it was a pretty small and private thing. It was me, my six friends, and my dad, who was the sheriff of the town. Fast forward until the end of the night and there was a drive by shooter who took out everybody except me. My dad jumped in front of me but got shot more than he should've because of it."
He took a minute to wet his lips and turned to Peter when he nudged him. He avoided looking at his eyes for the time being and instead focused on his ear, giving him a nod and pinching himself under the blankets before continuing.
"I didn't know what to do so I just kind of… froze, y'know? And then I felt something warm and when I looked, it was- it was blood. From my dad." Stiles shuddered and pulled the blankets tighter around himself, bringing his knees to his chest while he clenched his eyes and tried to war off the flashbacks that he'd seen too many times.
"I was in the middle of a panic attack so I did the first thing I thought of, which was to get my dad off of me and try to stop the bleeding while I called Terra, who worked with my dad. She tried to keep me on the phone but once I heard the sirens and saw the ambulance I made a run for it. I was scared and I didn't want to be around people because I knew they would ask questions and I didn't even know myself what had happened until later."
Derek's hand went under the flap of the blanket and he subtly pried Stiles' fingers away from his palm. He settled for squeezing his hand instead and took a breath to finish talking, ignoring how his hands were once again trembling.
"Michael," Talia's stern yet soothing voice broke him out of his thoughts and he jerked, looking down to where she crouched in front of him. "You don't have to force yourself to tell us."
He shook his head, about to say that yes, he did have to tell them because nothing would change otherwise and then he'd be in the same situation he was before they met them but he got interrupted by a series of loud, demanding knocks on the door.
Talia frowned and turned towards Devin, who was the closest to the door, and put on a questioning smile as she nodded towards the sound.
"Fine," he grumbled.
Stiles leaned into Derek and distracted himself from the heavy silence by playing with the man's fingers, smiling when the wolf initiated a game of thumb wars.
"Where is he?" Stiles blood ran cold and he snapped his head towards the voice, the familiarity of it bringing tears to his eyes. He could hear Devin stuttering a storm and got to his feet in a daze, shrugging off Peter's shoulder as he stumbled into the entrance hall where he nearly fell if it hadn't been for Derek catching him.
There, glaring furiously at a blushing Devin, was a red headed woman who had stolen his heart in elementary school and then his spot of valedictorian in high school. He thought he'd lost his best friend forever and yet she was standing tall and proud and fierce in front of him.
He was aware that he made a noise, he had to have because everybody turned to him at once and even though there were a million other things to focus on and his ears were ringing again, all he could do was keep staring wide eyed at her.
Time stopped when they made eye contact, everything besides Lydia and himself didn't matter because right now, Lydia was home. She was alive and in front of him and why was he still standing there?
Stiles flung the blanket off of himself and nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste to get to her. She moved too and they met in the middle of the kitchen, his back being forced into the counter behind him with the force of it. Her hands were digging into his back, her nails scratching his skin through his shirt and her chin was embedded into his collarbone as she sobbed.
His grasp was as tight, if not tighter, than hers and they fell to the ground together, neither one of them letting go of their death grips as their cries turned into hysterical laughter.
Lydia pulled back first, dragging a finger under her eyes to rid them of the tears. Her face was blotchy and she was still breathing heavily, but she was alive.
"I-" He shook his head with a disbelieving laugh, running his eyes over her frame and taking her in. "I'm not dreaming, right?"
"I'm going to be beyond pissed if this is a dream, Stilinski." Her voice broke and wavered and did nothing but add to the stark relief that was seeping into him.
"Stilinski?" Laura interrupted. "S'that your last name? Michael Stilinski, huh?" She shook her head and crossed her arms. "It doesn't really have a ring to it. Maybe we can give you a nickname?"
Lydia stood up swiftly, dragging him with her, and kept his arm looped with her own while she dusted off her clothes. After flipping her hair so it wasn't resting on her shoulder, she gave the Hales a smile, one that he noticed was fake right away.
"Lydia Martin, it's nice to meet you. I think it would be a good idea for us to sit and get this," she gestured to the Hales and themselves vaguely. "All figured out."
"Lyds, I don't know if-"
"Shut it, Stiles. You and I are going to have our own conversation once we figure the rest out."
That was what convinced him, he thought. The way she talked to him as if nothing had changed, as if they hadn't spent years without talking to one another. Her fingers were shaking though, a clear message that she wasn't nearly as put together as she presented herself.
It was comforting, now that he had proof he wasn't the only one in a free fall and even looking at the Hales, really looking at them, he knew that they were all in the same boat.
Stiles had forgotten what it felt like to not be alone. Now, with the Hales and Lydia with him, he had a feeling that wouldn't be happening any time soon.
Author's Note: Stiles has a panic attack because of what the man told him on top of his own guilt for not trying harder to protect everybody. He recalls the things he should've done differently and how they would have still been alive if he had. He calls Lydia's phone, knowing that she won't answer, and tells her how much he misses them and his wishes that it was his life in exchange for theirs.