Authors Note: HEYO! XD Please tell me what you think; I would love to know XD I own nothing and no one.

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

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Chapter 9

Stiles

Tuesday – 1st October –, during one of my free periods, I was sitting in the library like I usually did. I was sitting in the usual corner with my sketch pad, just like always. But this time? I wasn't drawing the usual thing. Most of the time I would be drawing what I could see or something I remembered. Not this time. No. This time I was drawing the nine wolves and one human that I lived with. Yeah, not my usual source of inspiration, but I was going with it.

But it seemed to be one of the best ideas my messed up head had ever come up with. I had already gotten through portraits of Boyd, Erica, Allison, Scott, Lydia, Jackson, Danny and Isaac. I was working on Peter, Derek would be after him, and after that...well, I would have to get something bigger than my A4 sketch pad for that idea... Though I could make a rough idea of what I wanted it to look like. That was the most I could do for now, until I got the supplies to enlarge it anyway.

I was always left alone in the library, a fact that I liked mostly. I guess it was just a good thing I always sat in a section of it that no one used or ever needed. But then I had been here only just long enough to know where I could and couldn't go, so people could do what they needed to.

After a while, I started to notice that drawing Derek was...surprisingly easy. Now, sure, drawing came naturally to me...a trait I picked up from my mom. But I had never found it so easy to draw someone/something before...until now. It was like, as soon as I had put pencil to paper, that I just automatically drew the right facial structure, or eye shape, or nose shape, or mouth shape, or...or whatever else you could think of!

It was automatic. Like I was on autopilot.

I didn't think too much of it, too be honest. I just thought it was one of those things. You know, I thought that maybe most artists get this. Finding that one thing that they can draw, without fail, each and every time.

But I couldn't help feeling like that wasn't true. That there was something more to it than what I was thinking.

I was surprised with how much I actually drew that day. Never, in only one day, had I had the opportunity to just sit, relax and just...draw. It was great – for lack of a better word – to just be able to do one of the things I love without being interrupted – except for lessons. Even then, since I knew some of the things we were being taught and I saved the lesson work for when I was back at the house, I was drawing. I just wished I thought to have brought the coloured pencils, so I could finish the pictures off properly.

The coloured pencils that had been placed in my room, on the desk by the window. Without me knowing. With a note on top of them. The handwriting matching the note that came in one of the bags of clothes Lydia had objected to.

Meaning they were from Derek.

For the life of me, I couldn't come up with any idea as to why Derek would do this. No idea at all. But he had. He did. I supposed he was just trying to be...nice? Like, trying to help me settle in? Maybe?

I don't know.

No one ever did things to be nice. For me, anyway. It was weird... It was probably something most people were used to, but not me. And I don't think I would ever get used to it...

I had just arrived back at the house when it happened. I had pulled up outside, I only had to go a little further. When my car broke down.

"You've got to be kidding me!" I groaned, jumping out.

Now I wasn't great with cars. Not like most guys. I was more guitars and superheroes. But I knew how to fix minor little tiny things... So, going around to the front of my Jeep, I lifted up the hood, a cloud of smoke puffing out and hitting me right in the face.

And wasn't it just great coughing violently, from getting a face full of smoke? I waved my hand in front of my face, trying desperately to clear the air. Once the smoke had cleared, I looked under the hood, at the engine.

Well, this was going to be fun.

I had been trying to fix my Jeep for two and a half hours! Two and a half hours! I was getting frustrated... So frustrated that I had actually punched a tree at some point.

I had taken off my shirt, the sweat that was forming making my t-shirt – an old one, luckily – stick to my back and stomach, irritating my skin and scars. While I hated anyone seeing my scars, I wouldn't be able to concentrate if I was uncomfortable. So, I chose to take my shirt off...

The cold air on my skin was amazing! Cooling me down as I leant over the heat of the engine. I could feel the pools of liquid running down my neck and back, leaving tracks that would only be visible to those with awesome super sight – *cough*werewolves*cough*.

It was five minutes after I had actually taken my shirt off that I felt someone watching me. It was strange how I could always feel someone's eyes burning holes into me whenever I wasn't looking – even some when I was. It was an uncomfortable feeling, almost rivalling that of sweat soaked clothes catching on my scars. I had managed to catch their reflection in the windshield of my car, seeing them standing on the porch of the house.

Derek.

He was just standing there, watching me. Honestly, I swear werewolves had no boundaries. Always sniffing you, getting in your space – like pushing you against your car, and no I was not letting that go! I was always fine when it was my mom that did all that stuff that annoyed me now, but that was then. Back when I was ok with people touching me, hugging me. When I was ok with people watching me and getting in my space. Back when I was happy.

I sighed a little, half frustration half sad. Pushing away from the engine, I slammed the hood back down, turning so I could lean against the front of it, staring right back at Derek.

"Enjoying the show?" I asked, irritated, crossing my arms over my chest.

"What's wrong?" he asked, nodding towards me car.

I sighed, getting increasingly annoyed. He rarely ever answered my questions...

"Oh, nothing. I just thought I'd mess around with the engine of my perfectly working Jeep." I replied, sarcastically.

Derek growled quietly, trying to cover it up. Really, these guys shouldn't try to act like they're human. I've had years of practise, this was something they were only doing with me now. It was obvious to spot that they were trying way too hard, the idiots.

"Broke down as soon as I pulled in." I sighed. "Don't get me wrong, I love my Jeep, I really do. But she pisses me off sometimes."

"Have you tried..." Derek started.

"I have tried everything I know how to do and then some. If I do anymore, I will break her. And I kind of need her."

Derek huffed, jumping off of the porch, completely ignoring the steps, and walking over to stand in front of me.

"I'll get it fixed for you." he told me, nodding once. "I can drive you to and from the university like I do for Isaac, Erica and Boyd until it's ready."

I looked right at him for a moment, right in his eyes. I licked my lips, trying to put some moisture back into the dry things, shuffling slightly as I did.

"Why?" I asked, quietly.

"What is it with you and always asking that?" Derek growled, stepping closer. "Can't you just say thanks like a normal person instead of questioning everything?!"

"You don't understand."

"Then maybe you should explain!"

"No!"

"And why not?!"

"Because I want to forget it all! Ever wondered why I never really brought up how you all suddenly knew things from my criminal record? Or how you knew about my scars? Ever thought that maybe I'm not good with trusting people, because everyone always stabs you in the back?! No, you didn't! So, next time, buddy, think before you fucking speak! Think of why people might do certain things, ask certain things!"

I was shaking from how frustrated I was, trying so hard to hold back the urge to wolf/fox out and run or just punch Derek in his stupidly handsome face!

The stupidly handsome face that was currently tilted and frowning, ever so slightly.

Sighing, I hit my open palm against the trunk of a nearby tree, before falling to the ground to lean against it. I dragged my knees up to my chest, resting my elbows on them and burying my head in my hands.

"To answer your question," Derek said. "Because I want to. I want to help. We all want to help. That's never happened with any of us before, especially me. So, just let us."

And with that, he just turned around and walked back into the house.

The next day – Wednesday, 2nd October – after school, the wolves and Allison were training. I was sitting in the corner, with a sketch book – seriously, these guys didn't even know how helpful they were with this! It was just a normal training session thing, like every day.

Or it was until Chris Argent walked in.

Everyone froze, everyone but Allison staring at the guy. Chris walked right up to Derek, who was fighting against Peter at the time, stopping in front of him with a small bit of distance between them. I could see how tense all of them were, especially Derek. I noticed how Allison was holding her breath, probably wanting to intervene, but not at the same time. It was her Pack and her dad, after all.

But then Argent did something none of them – not even I – expected.

"Truce?" Chris asked, extending a hand.

Derek nodded, shaking the man's hand, saying about how they would need to hammer out the details of this 'truce', so neither group overstepped their boundaries. I didn't hear much, zoning out after Derek had agreed, going back to my drawings. But Allison, I noticed, looked so much happier...

"What made you change your mind?" I heard her asked, a light laugh evident in her voice.

"Well, I need to watch who make enemies with." Chris replied, before turning to look at me. "Don't I?"

Wait... So this was all happening because of what I said to him on Sunday. Me? Someone actually listened to me?! And it helped?! Well...that was new...

Chris stayed for the rest of training, mainly watching Allison use her hunter skills and giving her tips when needed. I was glad that I could make one father realise that he hadn't lost everything yet.

I pretty much stayed in the same spot for the whole thing, just sitting there, drawing. It was a brilliant thing to do while everyone else was so busy concentrating on training. Well, almost everyone.

"Stiles, will you be taking part at all?" Peter called over from the mats. "Or are you going to just sit and watch?"

"Are you really that desperate to be beaten again old man?" I smirked, looking over the pad.

Now Peter... Peter I...well, I wouldn't say liked, but there was something about the guy. His sarcasm and wit and sass made him easy to communicate with, since we both spoke in such similar ways. He never tried to hard to be nice, he just stayed himself.

"Were you not told to never talk back to your elders?" Peter queried, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, I was told." I nodded, jumping up and walking over towards the mats. "I just stopped listening a long time ago."

I found it very funny that I managed to floor Peter in only a handful of seconds. He growled before bouncing back up, launching himself at me again.

This repeated many, many times.

"Is he actually human?" I heard Chris whisper to Derek, a little while later when I was still up against Peter. "Or is he a werewolf too?"

"I'm not sure." Derek whispered back. "I can't catch a scent..."

During that brief moment of not paying attention to the fight, I didn't notice one thing. Well, I didn't notice it until someone jumped me from behind.

I pretty much screamed, throwing them to the ground, before backing myself into the corner I had been in to begin with.

As I sat there, panting heavily and shaking, I saw Jackson sit up, groaning and clutching the back of his head. My eyes were wide and I couldn't control the tremors running through my arms, not being able to stop and just sit still.

Before anyone could say or do anything, I ran for it – grabbing my sketch pad and legging it out of the training room, towards the room I was using.

I woke up early hours of Thursday morning, screaming... This happened every night ever since Chase made me have that first fucking flashback, but this one was the worst so far.

I went out for a run like I normally did, but this time I got back after only two hours. So I resolved to clean the place. I mean, come on, the place was kind of filthy.

I managed to find a cloth and cleaning products, working my way around the lower level of the house, scrubbing down the hallways, kitchen and living room.

The last thing I had remembered was sitting on the couch o clean the coffee table, before being shaken awake, gently, by Derek. He looked tired, just like I felt, and I looked around to see that I had actually fallen asleep on the couch, cloth in hand still...

"Nightmare?" Derek asked.

Sighing, I nodded, sitting up and leaning back into the couch cushions. Derek sat down next to me, not too close but not to far, staring at the table for a moment before returning his attention to me.

"What's going on, Stiles?" Derek asked.

Looking at Derek, something inside of me wanted to tell him the truth.

But I couldn't. He was pretty much a stranger to me! I had been living in that house for all of twelve days; they were all strangers to me! So I did the only other thing I could think of. Lie. I didn't even care if he would know it wasn't the truth.

"My mom died five days after my birthday. Any friends I had turned against me. My dad became an alcoholic." I explained, quietly, keeping in some things that were actually true. "Everyone I knew and cared about had turned their backs on me and anyone I tried to reach out to did the same. So, I started to cut myself. I didn't want to do it on my arms, so I stuck to my chest, stomach and back. It was a pain reaching that far, but I needed to."

I took a deep breath before carrying on.

"People touching me just reminds me of the people I thought were my friends... They had no problems with showing me how they felt with their fists, and I ended up in hospital for days." I continued. "That's what I have nightmare about. That's why I find it hard to trust people. That's why I always question why you or any of the others are nice to me. That's why I have the scars."

And yes, I know. It was all bull shit – apart from a few things. And I knew Derek knew that. But that was the only explanation he was getting. Derek, seeming to realise this, sighed and nodded, as if agreeing that he would buy it for now, just go along with it until I actually told him the truth.

"What about the tattoos?" he asked. "What's the deal with them?"

"To cover the scars." I replied. "Well, for two of them, there was a reason... For the others, I thought they were cool as well as a way to try covering the scars."

"Which ones have the reasons?"

"The triskelion on my back and the name Genim written across my lower back."

"What are the reasons?"

"My mom. The others are runes I thought looked cool. Can't use them, like you can in books though."

That was true. The runes I had were not magical, just purely decorational.

"I have a tattoo of a triskelion too, on my back." Derek said. "Got it when I was nineteen, living in New York."

"Got mine back in Dallas, I was sixteen." I admitted. "They guy I went to didn't ask for ID and didn't seem to care about my age. That was fine by me."

I could see that Derek wanted to say something about that, but he held his tongue, nodding. He asked me what the different runes meant, so I told him. He asked me who Genim was – though I fully suspected he already knew – so I told him. He asked for the reasons I got my real first name and a triskelion tattooed, so I told him.

I hadn't realised how long we had been talking until the sun came up.

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