Stiles stayed where he was for nearly ten minutes, staring into the parking lot, trying to fight down the panic that was rising in his chest; trying to stave off the wave of fear that was threatening to wrap its fingers around his neck and choke the breath out of his lungs. He didn't know how long it was before he finally moved, digging his hand into his pocket and taking out his keys. Without a second thought he made his way to his jeep and got inside, placing the key into the ignition and starting it up. He got onto the road and began driving east; at first he didn't know where he was going, he just knew that he wanted to get as far away from the school and Scott and the pack and everything as fast as he could.

Twenty minutes later he found himself down a familiar back road surrounded by trees on the other side of town; He came to a stop and parked his jeep on the side of the dirt road. A small trail lay obscured between trees and brush, hidden to any passerby who didn't know it was there. The trail led to a small, secluded pond that was surrounded by grass and trees; it was one of Stiles' few places in the world that belonged solely to himself, where he could go to get away from everything in his life that was nagging at him, bothering him, or hurting him. He'd spent so much time here after his mother died, just him and the forest and the pond, and sometimes Scott. Because Scott was more than his best friend, he was his brother – and brothers were there for each other no matter what.

Except today. Today, Scott had more important things to do.

After nearly fifteen minutes of walking through the trees and over lifted roots and brambles, Stiles came into the clearing where the hidden pond lay – his sanctuary.

The wind whispered through the trees and gently nudged against Stiles' back, rustling the grass and rippling the surface of the pond. Stiles walked over to a spot near the trees and laid down on his back, settling his hands behind his head. He stared at the grey sky above him, refusing to think about anything other than the quiet, peaceful sanctuary that he was in and not give one thought to his friends or what had happened that day.

But as it turned out, that was a very hard thing to do.

He got where Scott was coming from; he got where he was coming from completely. And that perhaps was what made the whole thing worse – because, no matter how angry and hurt he was by Scott's words, he knew that, deep down, he was right. He always knew that he could sometimes be in the way of the others, he'd felt guilty and embarrassed many times before whenever someone had to save him because he couldn't save himself; but they'd always managed to come through intact in the end. Stiles knew that he wasn't completely useless, that more than one plan of his had been the key to defeating a werewolf or some other supernatural creature; he knew that his brain and ability to think had saved them on more than one occasion. But apparently it wasn't enough to save himself from losing what he had thought had been his place in this world; from losing his friends. From losing his best friend.

Stiles didn't know when he had fallen asleep, only that one moment he'd been lying with his hands behind his head as he watched the ripple of the trees and the slow movement of the sky, and the next he'd woken to a face full of grass, having turned onto his side at some point during his sleep. He pushed the grass away and spat out the remnants that had made their way into his mouth, sitting up with a start when he realised how dark the sky had become and how late in the day it now was; it was probably the late afternoon now, maybe even closer to evening. The grey overcast clouds from earlier that day had turned deep and dark, heavy with rain that would soon undoubtedly fall. As if hearing his thoughts, the wind began to pick up, no longer a gentle breeze but a warning of what was to come. Rain started to spit and Stiles quickly got to his feet, making his way to the cover of the trees in the woods. Thunder rolled in the distance.

Less than ten minutes later Stiles arrived at his jeep. By the time he got to the door the wind was roaring through the trees and Stiles had to fight to keep his feet beneath him. Rain was falling faster and faster, carried by the wind and stinging as it hit his face. He pulled the jeep's door open and jumped inside, fighting with the wind and rain for a few moments before finally shutting the door closed. He took a few heavy breaths once he was inside, pushing his rain-soaked hair back with his hands as he got his breathing back under control. He shoved his key into the ignition and turned it, saying a quick prayer of thanks when the engine immediately started. He put the jeep into gear and swung it around onto the road and began heading for the highway. A shiver ran through his body and he turned up the heat, not having made it to the jeep before getting half-soaked by the rain.

As he drove down the road the rain and wind began to pick up and thunder cracked loudly above him, shaking the entire vehicle. Stiles had his wipers going full blast, but that was still not enough for him to clearly see where he was going. If he didn't know this road so well, he might –

Something suddenly caught Stiles' eye and he slammed on the brakes, flying forward into the steering wheel. He stayed there for a moment as the wipers moved back and forth, wondering what on earth it was that he had seen. A half-second later he caught the movement again on the side of the road. He squinted at it and after a second realised what it was – a person. The person was in front of their vehicle beneath its raised hood, smoke rising around them from the engine. A moment later Stiles recognised who the person was. Getting out of his vehicle, Stiles quickly made his way over to the truck.

"Ms. Givens?!" he shouted above the roar of the rain and wind. The woman – Ms. Givens – looked up with a start, the worry etched deep on her face giving way to marked relief.

"Mr. Stilinski?!" she called back. Stiles made his way over to her, holding the back end of his jacket above his head in a small effort to keep from being blinded by the rain.

"Do you need help?!" Stiles asked. Thunder boomed above them and the wind picked up.

"My car broke down," Ms. Givens replied, not appearing to have heard Stiles' question. Stiles looked at the engine and the smoke rising from both beneath and above it. Ms. Givens had a wrench in her hand, but clearly didn't know what to do with it. "I tried to call my husband," she said loudly, trying to be heard above the wind. "He said I needed to call a tow-truck but then my phone died, and I've tried and tried by the car just won't start – I've been here for over an hour!"

Stiles tried to gauge what was wrong with the car and if he could fix it, but the rain and wind obscured his vision to the point where it was nearly impossible to get a good look at what was wrong. From what he already saw, he highly doubted he could do anything to fix it. He turned to face the older woman. "I'll take you home!" Stiles called. "I don't know what's wrong with it, but I'll give you a ride home and you can call the tow-truck then!" Ms. Givens nodded and the two quickly made their way to Stiles' jeep. Once inside, Ms. Givens quickly began conveying her thanks.

"Thank you so much Mr. Stilinski," she said, sweeping her wet hair away from her face. She looked exhausted. "I've been trying to fix that thing for over an hour and then it started to rain and then my phone died, and I honestly didn't know what I was going to do."

"Well it's a good thing I happened to be driving by," Stiles replied, putting his jeep into gear. "Was there anything you needed from your car?"

"Nothing that can't keep until tomorrow," she replied. They were quiet for a moment as Stiles made his way back onto the road, before Stiles started speaking again, glad to finally have a distraction from the rest of the day. "So do you live near here?" he asked.

"We do, actually," Givens replied, calm making its way back into her voice as she regained her composure. "My husband and I just moved to Beacon Hills a few weeks ago. We have a place a few miles from here."

"How've you liked it so far?"

"Oh it's been wonderful, really. The last place we lived in… well, it wasn't exactly the easiest place to be; but this town has been great to us, so far."

Stiles wondered what had happened in her previous home, but he respectfully ignored it in stay of a different question. "So what brought you to Beacon Hills, of all places?"

"My work," Ms. Givens replied. "My husband and I have been looking for the right place to settle down for good, a place where we can really use our skills and contribute to our community. We've moved to a few different towns, but none of them seem to… stick. I'm not sure what it is, but we just don't feel like we…."

"Belong?" Stile finished for her. He figured that Ms. Givens jitters and adrenaline hadn't yet left her from her experience in the storm, so that was why she was talking so much more freely than a teacher normally would with a student. But Stiles didn't blame her; this was a pretty big storm that had come out of nowhere, and if he'd broken down with the sky feeling as though it was going to crash to the ground, he'd be pretty unnerved too.

"Yes – exactly. There just haven't really been the right… people."

They finally made their way to the highway and Stiles peered into the sheets of rain, looking for any vehicles before slowly making his way onto the road.

"And do you think Beacon Hills has the right people?" Stiles asked. He'd never asked so daring questions before to a teacher – except maybe with coach – but Ms. Givens didn't feel like a regular teacher, probably because she was just a substitute and wouldn't be here for long; she felt more like just a regular adult that he could talk to, like his dad or Scott's mom or the guys at the station. But really, when Stiles thought about it, he hadn't really felt like a teenager in a long time. Adulthood had come to early for him and Scott; far too early.

"You know," Ms. Givens began as she directed Stiles towards her street. "We haven't been here for very long, but… yes. I think it does."

Stiles followed the rest of Ms. Givens' directions to her house, a small acreage a couple minutes outside of town. He parked the jeep in the driveway, leaving it running as he waited for Ms. Givens to get out. Ms. Givens had just started to open the door when suddenly the jeep began to rattle, and then it died. Stiles frowned, turning the ignition back on. The engine turned over a couple times, but nothing happened. Stiles tried again, but the jeep remained silent. Stiles could not believe his luck.

"No way," he muttered, trying the key again.

"It won't start?" Ms. Givens asked.

"It's – I thought I'd gotten the stupid thing fixed, but it –." The engine turned over a couple more times, then refused to move no matter how many times Stiles turned the key. Stiles hit the steering wheel with his hand. "Dammit!" He groaned and put his face in his hands, then realised with a start that he still had company. He groaned again, only this time out of embarrassment. "Sorry Ms. Givens," he said, running his hands through his hair. "It's just been… a really long day."

"Don't worry about it," Ms. Givens replied comfortingly. "I can relate – on this day of all days." She paused, then said, "Why don't you come inside? You're absolutely soaked; the least I can do is give you a towel and some food in thanks for rescuing me. Then you can call someone to come look at your jeep."

Stiles sighed, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel as he thought who he could call. His stomach rumbled, reminding him he hadn't had supper yet. He nodded. "Okay, yeah – sure, that'd be great; thanks." Ms. Givens smiled and the two got out of the jeep and made a mad dash for the house, thunder crashing loudly above them as lightning forked brightly in the sky. Ms. Givens opened the door and they both walked inside, shaking the water from their hair as she closed the door.

Ms. Givens immediately set to work trying to make Stiles as comfortable as she could. "Here," she said, taking Stiles' soaked jacket from him and hanging it on a nearby hook. "Let me get you a towel; I'll be right back." She disappeared and returned a moment later, a large, fluffy towel in her arms. She draped it over Stiles' shoulders and he smiled gratefully.

"Thanks," he said, drying off his hair and trying to soak up as much water from his shirt and jeans as he could.

"Not a problem," she replied, then began walking into the living room. "Come into the parlour," she said, waving him over and motioning to the couch. "Take a seat. Is there anything I can get you? Something to drink, something to eat perhaps?"

Stiles sat down on the couch, finally feeling warmth ease back into his skin. "No, no, I'm alright. I'll just call one of my friends; they'll pick me up. Would it be alright if I left my jeep here until tomorrow?"

"Oh of course! Of course you can."

Stiles smiled in thanks and took out his phone, scrolling through his contact list until he found Scott's name. His thumb hovered over it for a moment, wondering if Scott was really the right person to call, and if he would –

Oh wait. That's right; Scott was busy. Something supernatural had come up during school and he'd gone off to deal with it. Him and everyone else, most likely. Which meant the only person he could really call was his dad. Stiles scrolled until he found his dad's name and he was just about to tap it when he remembered – his dad and everyone at the station were all on overtime; they were on high alert and searching for those people that were trying to pass the state border. Although he knew his dad would either get him himself or send a squad car for him, he didn't want to disrupt their work for something as ridiculous and juvenile as a ride home. He'd had enough of being an imposition in peoples' lives for one day, thank you very much.

Which meant then, that he was… screwed.

Stiles sighed and leaned back into the couch.

"Is everything alright?" Ms. Givens asked, returning from the kitchen with two glasses of juice. Stiles inwardly thanked her for ignoring him when he said he didn't want anything to drink; in reality, he was incredibly thirsty. She set one glass on the coffee table in front of him and proceeded to sit down on the chair on the other side.

"Well," Stiles drew out, trying to decide what to say. "I just remembered that all my friends are busy tonight, so they won't be able to pick me up. And my dad's busy at the station – he's the chief of police – so I don't know how much help he'll be, either."

"Well if you can't get a ride home, you can certainly stay here for the night – you are more than welcome to do so. We have a guest bedroom upstairs you could use; it's all ready to go."

Stiles took a deep drink from his cup, immediately feeling guilty at her offer; the last thing he wanted to do was impose on her and her husband in such a way. "You don't have to, really. I can find some way home, and I can walk if I have to. My place isn't far… from here…." That was a lie, and he was pretty sure Ms. Givens knew it. His house at least fifteen miles away if not more, and it was already difficult enough to drive in this storm, much less walk in it in the dark. Stiles inwardly groaned as he realised the circumstance he found himself in was inescapable.

"Nonsense," Ms. Givens said firmly. "There's no way you're walking home in this monster of a storm. I insist you stay here for the night. It would be completely irresponsible of me if I let you leave at a time like this." At Stiles' expression, her face softened. "Honestly Stiles, I assure you – you're not imposing by staying here. We are more than happy to have you."

Stiles took a deep breath, then nodded. "Okay. Seriously though – thanks so much; I really appreciate it."

Ms. Givens smiled and she rose to her feet. "Wonderful. Now, have you had anything to eat yet?" Stiles shook his head; if he was staying here for the night, there was no real use in pretending he had eaten. "Okay. I'll get supper together then, while you go on upstairs. The guest room is in the attic; the stairs that lead there are at the very end of the upstairs hallway. Will you be okay to find it on your own?" Stiles nodded, finishing the last of his apple juice and setting the empty glass back down on the table. "Good. There are some clothes in the dresser that should fit you; feel free to change into them if you want something dryer." Stiles nodded and said his thanks, before making his way to the stairs and the second floor of the house.

The upstairs floor was completely dark and Stiles searched for a light-switch, but couldn't find one. He squinted, looking for the stairs that Ms. Givens had said would lead to the attic. Finally spying it in the far end corner, he quickly walked past three closed-doors until he arrived at the staircase. The stairs were small and narrow, and were really more of a ladder than anything else. Still – Stiles was thankful to at least have a bed and a room; he could very easily have ended up on the couch.

He walked up the stairs quickly and came to the attic door. It opened with a creak, the hinges obviously not accustomed to being used. The room was completely dark, save for a small window by the bed, where a flash of lightning momentarily lit up the room. Stiles fumbled for a light until his fingers finally grazed over a switch and a small, dim bulb in the centre of the ceiling turned on, dousing the room in a warm orange glow.

The room was simple, but cozy. There was a bed on the opposite end by the window, a small side-table and lamp sitting beside it. A dresser and vanity sat opposite of the bed and an old hope chest was sat on the farthest wall in-between, a large decorative doily spread overtop. Stiles closed the door behind him and began shrugging out of his clothes, his shirt and jeans falling to the floor with a slap as water quickly began pooling beneath it. Stiles wrapped them in his towel and tossed it to the side; he stood there for a moment in silence, listening as thunder crashed and banged above him, oddly feeling more at ease than he had all day. He walked over to the dresser and pulled out the drawers, rummaging around until he managed to find an old pair of slacks and a button-up shirt, both appearing as though they'd been freshly pressed that morning.

When he walked down the stairs and into the kitchen, he was met with Ms. Givens' warm, gentle smile. "Those were my grandfather's," she said, setting down a bowl of hot, chicken-noodle soup. Stiles took a seat. "He wore them when he was about your age, I'd imagine."

Stiles thanked her for the food and dipped his spoon into the soup; he wasn't sure he'd ever been so thankful for warm soup in all his life. "You keep your grandfather's clothes?" he asked, taking a bite as he stared at Ms. Givens curiously.

Ms. Givens shook her head and laughed softly, taking a seat opposite Stiles. "No, I'm not that sentimental I'm afraid. This was his house, years ago. It's where he was raised and where my mother and her siblings grew up. He left it to me in his will and I inherited it when he passed away a few years ago. My husband and I hadn't known what to do with it at the time, but I was too attached to it to just give it up. I wasn't raised here, but I spent a lot of summers here growing up. We were very fortunate to still have it when we decided to move here."

Stiles smiled as he took another spoonful of soup. The food sat warmly in his stomach and Stiles wished that he could cook as well as this. His father was useless at making food, so when his mother died Stiles had become the incumbent cook of the family. But there were some things that only a woman's hands seemed to be able to make.

Stiles and Ms. Givens finished their supper and Stiles sat back in his chair with a sigh, the exhaustion of the day finally settling over him like a heavy blanket. He glanced at the clock and saw that it was 10:15. Stiles let out a wide yawn.

"Why don't you head on up to bed?" Ms. Givens said, taking Stiles' empty bowl along with hers and walking over to the sink. Stiles quickly sat up.

"I can help you wash," he said, standing to his feet, but Ms. Givens just gave him a smile and shook her head.

"Don't worry about it," she said, setting the bowls in the sink. "It's not a problem at all. You just head on up to bed and go to sleep. And sleep in as long as you want – you are my guest, and I won't have you doing anything but relax. I'm sure you can get a hold of your friends tomorrow."

Stiles wanted to resist her suggestion and help her clean up, but he had to admit, he was exhausted. "Okay," he said at last. "I'll see you in the morning. And thanks again for letting me stay here, I –."

"You're welcome, Stiles," Ms. Givens interrupted with a smile. "Now go to bed!" Stiles smiled in return, before finally heading up the stairs and into the attic. He changed into a pair of pajamas that he'd found in the bottom dresser drawer and crawled into the bed, curling beneath the warmth of the covers and shutting off the light, dousing the room in darkness once more. The thunder crashed above him and lightning crackled across the sky, but Stiles heard none of it, and within minutes his breathing evened out and he fell into sleep.