Authors Note: HEYO! XD Please tell me what you think; I would love to know XD I own nothing and no one, apart from the following: Zane, Chase

JUST SO YOU KNOW: like everyone else, I have no idea what Stiles' real name is, so I'm going along with what everyone else puts :) and I've made his middle name up XD

Please, please review XD

Chapter 4

Stiles

Over the next couple of days, the wolves continued to follow me. After what happened on Monday, it was beyond irritating by now, but I just ignored it. It was the only thing I could do.

My dad would have probably have noticed his punching back had disappeared, so would Zane, so they would both be trying to find me. One wrong more in this town would be a quick fire way to them finding me, to them dragging me back to Dallas.

Yeah, like I would even make it that far.

Sighing, I shook my head. There was no point in thinking about it. If I thought about it, I would panic. If I panicked... No. I just couldn't think about it.

So I ignored it all. I ignored everyone in the school, whenever I could. Well, I tried to anyway. I mean, I couldn't ignore it if Chase was being a douche and no one was around to help Isaac out. I couldn't ignore it if Isaac made it his mission, after I helped him, to follow me around like the little puppy he was and try to talk to me. He even followed me into the library, carrying on the conversation he had started in whispers. For the life of me, I had no idea why this guy was talking to me. Why he seemed to willingly talk to me and get to know me. I wanted to trust him, he seemed like an alright guy... But that was what I had thought of Zane before things took a turn for the worst.

Isaac was persistent though. Whenever I walked away, he would follow. Anytime I would go somewhere overcrowded, hoping that what people might think of him could get him away from me, he would just ignore everyone and carry on with what he was saying. He wasn't even nervous of scared when he was talking to me!

I had to admit, he impressed me...so far.

On Thursday 12th September, after school, I had driven back to the part of the woods I usually stayed in. It wasn't raining today, but that didn't mean it was any warmer. The only things I had to keep me warm were the clothes, my red hoodie and my own body heat – I didn't want to waste gas by turning my car on!

I lay there on the back seat, staring up at the roof of my Jeep. I sighed. It was times like these when I wish I had managed to snag the box that had my iPod in or my CDs or my guitar! I couldn't just sit there and write or draw for hours and hours, I had to do something else.

That's why I liked driving. I could listen to the radio. I loved listening to the songs they played – some of them, not all – getting lost in the lyrics and melodies, letting the music drown out everything else. I loved it when I heard a guitar solo, or a riff... I loved the change in pitch and dynamics... I loved it all. Contrary to what people think, I like a range of music. Country, Pop, Rock... There's few types I didn't like – for example, I wasn't fond of opera – but most of the time it depended on the artist and the song itself.

I liked Green Day, Hunter Hayes, Halestorm, Hedley, The Click 5, The Summer Set, Queen, AC/DC, Fall out Boy, Falling in Reverse, Get Scared, Simple Plan, Sam Tsui, Boyce Avenue, Ed Sheeran, American Authors. There were many more...but it wasn't like I was going to name them all! So, yeah, a range of music. But just knowing that didn't take the boredom away. Sometimes, on days like these, I wished I had taken Deaton up on his offer to go stay with him. But then I remembered what it was like the last time I had decided to trust a stranger right away... No, it was better this way. It was better this way until I could fend for myself – properly.

It was then I heard the sound of two engines somewhere behind me. I only had time to sit up before someone was knocking on the window behind my head. I turned around quickly; ready to grab the knife I had hidden somewhere, just so I had something to protect myself with. And then I saw Isaac.

Sighing, I ran my hand through my hair, before opening the door to my Jeep and jumping out of it. I turned to face him after I shut the door again, seeing the rest of the group – save Derek and Peter – standing by the cars.

"What? Couldn't stop at following me around the university like a bunch of puppies?" I scoffed. "Why are you following me?!"

"Do you live in your car?" Erica asked, calmly, raising an eyebrow.

"Is that any of your business?"

"It is if I make it my business."

"Yeah, well, tough luck there, blondie."

She glared at me. Like, full on proper bitch glared. It was nearly as terrifying as the look my dad would give right before he would get the knife though...

I just started back at her, calmly, raising an eyebrow slightly, making her all the more frustrated. I couldn't help the small smirk that worked its way across my face.

"So, I'll ask again. Why are you following me?" I sighed, turning to Isaac.

"We don't need to answer that." Boyd replied, calm and monotone.

"Why not?"

"If you won't answer our questions, we won't answer yours."

Touché.

Shrugging, I turned on my heel, jumping back into my car, locking the doors this time before lying down again.

I never noticed that I fell asleep.

Isaac

Sighing, I got back into the car with Jackson, Lydia and Danny. I would admit that little meeting could have gone better...but it wasn't like I expected anything different. I was still wondering whether or not Stiles actually lived in his car. Maybe that was the reason for the boxes. He never really answered my question about them properly when he gave me that lift home.

"I can't find anything registered in his name. He hasn't got a bank account or a credit card either..." Danny said, staring at his laptop that was sitting on his lap.

"So, he's living in his car and paying with cash." Jackson sighed. "So what, big deal. Why's it our problem?"

No one answered that. No one knew how to answer that, other than 'Derek told us to, Derek's the Alpha.' While a good argument, it didn't really answer the question. To be honest, it really wasn't our problem. It only became mine when Stiles helped me out. All I wanted to do was help him. Help him the way the Pack helped me.

"We should go to Deaton." Lydia said, checking her nails – again. "See if he knows anything."

"We'll need to talk to Derek first." Danny commented. "He still has trouble trusting him."

Biting my lip, I turned a little to stare out the window. I didn't like how we were handling this, not at all. It was intrusive and I, out of everyone, knew how much it sucked. I wanted to help, sure, but not like this. But really, was there any other way?

Stiles

I knew this day would come.

While using the showers at the university was great, it did nothing to help me get money. I had barely any left, I needed a shower...but it was a Saturday. The only place I knew that had a shower and, possibly, food...was Deaton's. Deaton had told me that any time I needed help, even if it was just for something like food, I could go to him. I really didn't want to go to him; I really didn't want it to look like I trusted him. But I had to do something.

That was how I found myself parked outside of his home that morning.

I had dragged my feet as I walked slowly up to the front door, trying to prolong the short distance. But it wasn't long enough, since soon I found myself standing outside of his door. The door opened before I even thought about knocking, coming face to face with the veterinarian.

"I heard you pull up." Deaton explained. "If I waited any longer, it would have been evening."

I didn't say anything as he let me in. Already knowing what I was here for, since I had turned down a place to say, Deaton directed me to his upstairs bathroom. He didn't come upstairs with me to show me where it was, he stayed downstairs after telling me which door it was. I was grateful for that, to be honest. I think I would have made a run for it if he had come upstairs too.

The shower was great! The water pressure, the size of it... Man, when I found my own place, I was making sure it had a great shower! And the towels, man, they were soft! I don't think I had ever loved towels as much as I did in that moment. Yes, I did remind myself that I was acting strange, even for me, but then I reminded myself that I had been living in my car for, like, two weeks!

I had had the sense to bring a change of clothes in with me, hiding them in my backpack, which was where I put the ones I had been wearing on my way in. Once dry and dressed, I made my way downstairs, though hesitant. What was I supposed to do? What was I supposed to say?

But when I was actually down the stairs, and I had found Deaton in the kitchen, he practically forced food into my hands, taking my mind off of what I was supposed to do and say. Instead, I focused on completely stuffing my face with whatever Deaton put in front of me.

"God! I haven't had chocolate cake in years!" I groaned, happily – shut up, it was chocolaty goodness!

"I'm glad you approve." Deaton replied, easily, placing a glass of coke in front of me too.

Man, I love sugar!

The amount I had eaten since I had walked into Deaton's kitchen was more than I ate in a month or two back in Dallas. I'm not even kidding or exaggerating, I was being one hundred percent truthful right now.

And Deaton seemed to have caught on.

"How long had you been living like that?" he asked, hesitantly. "Before you left."

"Five years." I muttered.

"Why?"

"Dad doesn't like, and I quote here, 'fucking fags'."

Deaton didn't say anything else, thankfully. Just left me to eating.

He didn't say anything until I had finished and he handed me a bag of food – I was kind of surprised with that... I thanked him, which he just shrugged off, before he actually spoke.

"Are you sure I can't persuade you to take my guest room?" he asked. "Your mother would hate for you to be out there."

I shook my head.

"I prefer my car." I grinned. "Besides, I get a great view of the woods."

"So, you do live in your car." a voice behind me said, smugly.

Instead of answering, I thanked Deaton again, before shoulder barging past Erica, Derek, Boyd and Allison.

Now, as well as following me around the school, I was getting Isaac and that lot off me a place at 'Hale house'. Well, it was mainly Isaac, but the others did a few times.

They would say how it was better than sleeping in a car. How I shouldn't be sleeping outside, especially in weather like this. But I just refused.

Why the hell are they asking anyway?

It got weird that Derek asked as well, when he came to give Isaac, Erica and Boyd a lift back to their place, after school on Wednesday – 18th September. The thing was...their offers were sincere. They weren't doing it to be mocking, they actually meant it. They were genuinely offering me a place to stay.

At first I was slightly touched. But after a short while, I became confused and suspicious again. Why would they do that for me?

Probably because you helped Isaac.

But that didn't explain why they were being this nice.

Maybe because they like you.

Pfft, yeah, that would be the day.

Maybe because they're genuinely nice people... Maybe because they know what happened...

No, they couldn't have. Could they? Isaac, Scott, Jackson and Boyd did see the scars and marks... But that could have been from anything, they could have though they were self inflicted. But that didn't explain the ones on my back... So that brought me back to my question:

Why?

It was Friday – 20th September – before I knew it. I was heading to my Jeep once all my lessons had finished, when I noticed Danny staring forlornly at his car- which happened to be next to mine. I would have ignored it and got in my car...but I had never seen the usually cheery guy so upset before...

I couldn't help my curiosity as I found myself walking over to him, until I was standing next to the guy and staring at the passenger side of his car. Someone – I was going to assume it was Chase, the bastard – had tagged Danny's car. In bold red letters, someone had used spray paint – the can was lying on the ground beside the car – to write 'FAG'. I twitched slightly in anger, my hand starting to curl into a fist. Until an idea hit me.

I picked up the abandoned spray can, noticing that it was still rather full, shaking it before using it myself. On Danny's car, underneath the crude reference to those of us who preferred our own sex to the opposite, I wrote in the bold red pain 'AND PROUD'. But I wasn't done there. No. After adding to the graffiti on Danny's car, I turned to mine and on the hood wrote 'FAG AND PROUD!' I kept the can clutched in my hand, as I turned back around to see a surprised yet grateful and happy grin on Danny's face. I couldn't help but smirk smugly at the little accomplishment.

It was only then that I noticed how I was starting to act. For two of the members of a werewolf Pack, I had helped them without thinking. They were complete strangers, people I did not know, yet I was helping them for no reason other than I just did.

I didn't get to dwell on it much since, the next thing I knew, my back had connected with the side of my Jeep. I winced, the hard surface connecting with the bruises and still healing scars, but I managed to keep any noises from escaping. Looking up slightly, I found Derek pinning me to my Jeep, growling quietly. I caught a slight trace of red in his eyes – Alpha, should have known – as his grip tightened.

"What the fuck is your problem?!" Jackson yelled, as the rest of the Pack ran over to Derek, Danny and me.

"You asshole!"

"What the hell?!"

"If you have a problem with Danny, you have a problem with us."

"Not surprised you went to jail, if this is how you treat people that are nice to you!"

"Oh, you deserve so much more than a few tiny little scars!"

I rolled my eyes, holding back a cringe at some of the things said... Of course they would think I was the one that tagged Danny's car. It wasn't like there was anyone else in the school that would. No, of course not. It had to be Stiles. Bad Stiles, very bad Stiles.

"What are you doing?" Danny asked – almost demanded. "Stiles didn't do this."

"He has the can." Derek snarled, not looking away from me, glaring.

"He was adding to mine and then tagged his own car!"

There was silence then. I was dropped to the ground again as Derek turned on his heel, looking at Danny's car and then mine, noting the wet paint of what I had wrote and the dry paint of what someone else had. Sighing, I stood up properly, fixing my clothes before looking away and starting to get in my car.

I only stopped when someone grabbed my arm,

"Thank you." Danny said once I turned around to face him.

I nodded, continuing to get in.

"If you need help getting the paint off, let me know." I muttered, before closing the door.

I left before I saw the surprise and slight shock on all of their faces.

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