cut
Stiles groaned as he woke up and rolled over in bed. The light of the sun was passing through the curtains on his window, hitting him straight in his face.
'I overslept?' he thought as he opened his eyes, moaning as he turned on his back only to scream and fall on the hard, cold floor when he came face to face with grinning blue eyes and a huge grin.
"Morning, sleepyhead!" Erica sang and clapped her hands.
"Fuck! What the – how did you – what the fuck are you doing in my room?!" Stiles shouted as he scurried to his feet, his blanket wrapped tightly around his lower body. Erica straightened and raised an eyebrow at him before her eyes traveled over his lean frame and she whistled appreciatively from her seat on the window sill.
"My, my, Stiles. What else are you hiding under those baggy clothes you always wear?" she teased and Stiles blushed furiously, pulling the blanket tighter around himself.
"Erica, what are you doing here?" he bit out and Erica tsked and rolled her eyes.
"What? I can't come to see my favorite human?" Stiles snorted while he looked around looking for his clothes.
"Yeah, sure," he grumbled and bowed down to pick up his pants.
"Whatever." Erica clapped her hands again with a sigh and Stiles tensed up. "Come down when you're decent. We need to talk."
Then he watched Erica all but bounce out of his room and Stiles looked at the open door with a frown. He looked at the window and considered getting out through it, but then he remembered that his bags were downstairs.
'How did she get in either way? I told dad to place the mountain ash in front of the door.' He snorted and rolled his eyes as he pulled his shirt on. 'They must have pushed it away with a piece of wood.' He made his way into the bathroom to brush his teeth.
Stiles made his way downstairs only to stop in the doorway of the kitchen and stare with his eyes wide open and jaw hanging. "What the…?"
Isaac, Erica and Boyd were in the kitchen with a few plates of pancakes on the table and a bottle of orange juice with glasses already waiting. Boyd looked mildly uncomfortable while Erica and Isaac had huge, silly grins on their faces. Stiles' mouth snapped shut and he shook his head to gather himself.
"Okay." He took a deep breath and released it through his nose. "I'm gonna go back to bed; when I actually do wake up, I'll be on my way the fuck out of this god-damned town." He turned on his heel and made his way out of the kitchen.
In the next moment he found himself being carried back into the kitchen with a pair of strong arms around his waist.
"Hey! What the – put me down!" he yelped when Isaac placed him into a chair and patted his head.
"Be a good boy and sit right here." He grinned at Stiles and walked over to a free chair, while Erica snickered and took a seat as well.
"What the hell are you doing?" Stiles asked and the three looked at him like he was stupid.
"Well, you're leaving," Erica said and Stiles' left eyebrow twitched. "We know we can't actually stop you if you're determined to leave, so we decided to spend some time with you." This time the left corner of Stiles' lip twitched with his left eyebrow and he swallowed audibly before he licked his lips.
"I wasn't under the impression that you cared." He obviously tried to sound calm, but his voice wavered threateningly never the less, and Isaac looked at him with puppy dog eyes before he looked at Erica as though he was seeking guidance.
"If we knew you would leave we would have shown you." Boyd grumbled then shoved some pancakes into his mouth, still looking uncomfortable with life in general.
"So the only reason you're here is to try and stop me." Stiles concluded and stood up. "You know where the door is."
"Stiles!"
"No, Erica!" Stiles snapped and spun on his heel to face her. "After the stunt you pulled yesterday I'm not overly fond of you! Any one of you! You didn't want me around before, and you sure as hell don't want me around now! Do you think that just because you suddenly remembered I actually exist for more than just research I'd stay?" His eyes flashed and his face twisted. "Friendship doesn't work that way!" he roared and the three pulled back into themselves.
Erica wilted first, "Stiles, look-"
"No, you look!" Stiles snapped at Erica and she recoiled instantly. "I did everything I could to help you, and what did you do? You who said you actually liked me! Once everything was over, you just forgot about me! I called to check up on you, I sent text after text and you didn't even think of answering me! And now - all of a sudden - you pretend that you care?!"
"But we do care!" Isaac cried out, and Stiles rolled his eyes with a hysterical laugh.
"Care about what, Isaac?! We barely exchanged a few words! I don't know what's gotten into you, but just because you come into my house uninvited, make me breakfast and suddenly want to be all friendly, you won't make me stay. So just pack up and go." He made his way out of the kitchen only to find Erica's arms wrapped tightly around his chest from behind and her face buried between his shoulder-blades.
"Please don't go, Stiles." She whispered and Stiles stiffened, angry words now stuck in his throat. "I know we didn't pay attention to you. I know you saved us - all of us - more times than we probably know. I know how hard you tried to find a way to set Boyd and me free when Gerard took us. Please, don't go. I can't be Catwoman without my Batman."
Stiles swallowed, bowed his head, and looked at her arms. He raised his hands and took a hold of her wrists, moving her arms to the sides and stepping away from her. "It's a bit too late to change things, Erica."
Stiles turned to look at them, and the cold expression on his face made all three of them shiver. "You're werewolves and I'm human. I have nothing to do with your bullshit. Find someone else who'll risk his life for you ungrateful little shits," he spoke harshly and climbed the stairs two and three at a time.
The three exchanged glances well after he was out of hearing range.
"It's safe to say that plan A failed." Boyd concluded in the silence looking at Isaac and brushing his fingers against Erica's hip in comfort.
"Plan B?" Isaac asked. He was pale and his eyes were wide, and when Erica looked at him, he saw that she was just as shaken as he was. "We can't give up, can we? The plan is to make him talk. We need to make him open up to us, not just rage and rave at us."
"Maybe we're not the right ones to do it." Boyd commented and Erica sighed.
"You heard Derek." She stressed out. "We're a pack. We do everything together; all that 'one for all and all for one' crap." She crossed her arms over her chest and looked over her shoulder.
"He's still in his room." Isaac muttered and looked up. "What's the plan, sis?" Erica snorted and smirked at him.
"I don't think we've pissed him off enough for him to talk to us." Boyd sighed and Isaac grinned.
"Let's see how far we can push him." Erica drawled with a snide smirk and Boyd grumbled.
"Why do I have a feeling this will be painful?"
cut
"Stiles. Stiles. Stiles." The teen pressed his teeth together tight as he tried to concentrate on the police file he was reading while Erica and Isaac poked his shoulders from each side and Boyd's eyes were boring into the back of his head.
"Stiles. Stiles. Stiles. Stiles." His left eyebrow twitched. He was slowly starting to hate his nickname.
"Oh, my God, would you stop!" he snapped and jumped away from them. Erica and Isaac grinned at him from where they were kneeling beside his now down-turned chair. "Can't you take a hint?!"
"We just want to talk to you, Stiles," Isaac whined and Stiles growled, rubbing his head with his hands in annoyance.
"Will it make you go away if I do?" he bit out, and Erica and Isaac looked at Boyd.
"Depends," Boyd said determinedly.
"On what?" Stiles asked squinting at the beta trio.
"On whether you're honest with us or not." Erica shrugged her shoulders and leaned back on her hands. Stiles groaned and took a seat on his bed, bouncing because of Boyd's superior weight.
"What do you want to talk about?" he sighed, and Erica and Isaac grinned at him while Boyd grunted in success.
"About why you're leaving."
Stiles groaned and rubbed his eyes, "I already told you. I've got nothing here but my dad. I'm going somewhere where I won't end up as someone's chew toy. End of story."
"And you'll leave your dad here? Your friends?" Isaac wondered and Stiles raised an eyebrow at him dully.
"What friends?" he drawled and the three frowned at him.
"What friends? How about us? ...Scott?" Isaac said and Stiles snorted.
"Scott? We may have been friends, but I think he has enough friends now that he doesn't need me anymore. Should I remind you that he's with the Argents now? As a matter of fact you all should steer away from him. I think he proved he doesn't have any qualms about risking his so-called-friends for Allison's benefit."
"Scott's with us now," Isaac said and Stiles raised an eyebrow.
"Well, well. A lot of things can change in two days, can't they?" he muttered and shrugged. "Well, more power to him," he said and tilted his head back and to the side, looking out the window.
"Stiles?" Erica called out softly.
"Hm?" he hummed, distracted with his thoughts.
"Why are you really leaving?" she asked, shifting close enough for him to feel her warmth and her hair to brush his shoulder. They were quiet for a few moments as Stiles looked at Erica in a way that made her antsy. It felt as though he was looking straight through her.
"Why do you want to know?" he eventually asked, voice soft. "It's not like you'll miss me when I'm gone. If we're all going to be honest here, it's not about me wanting to leave. It's about guilt. We're not friends. You guys hardly know anything about me. You never bothered to find out. I'm not the problem here."
"You know nothing about us either." Boyd countered and Stiles leveled a long look at the other boy.
"Vernon Abraham Boyd." he recited and Boyd frowned. "Born on July 7th 1996. Son of Jacob Boyd and Amelia Boyd nee Sawyer. Moved to Beacon Hills at the age of 9. Sister Alexandra missing since October 20th 2003. Loner. Average student. Member of the ROTC. Loves animals, especially squirrels. Favorite subject – English. Joined the Hale pack because he wanted to belong."
Stiles looked at Isaac next. "Isaac Lahey. Born February 2nd 1997. Mother died at birth. Father killed by Kanima. Worked the night shift at the graveyard. Joined the pack because he wanted strength and protection, but most of all family. Always kept to the back out of fear of his father. Acts tough but is in fact loving and gentle." He looked at Erica who paled and tensed up, while Boyd and Isaac exchanged wary glances.
"And finally, the lily in the middle of weeds." Stiles smirked and Erica gulped. "Erica Elizabeth Reyes. Born February 12th 1996. Daughter of Stephan Reyes and Esmeralda Reyes nee Iglesias. Joined the pack because she wanted to be noticed and to beat Epilepsy. Loves comic books, and video games. Lives for chocolate bars. Hates Angelina Jolie, absolutely adores Monica Bellucci. Hides her gentle nature behind snark and sarcasm. What she really wants is to get her driver's license and buy a Kawasaki z1000." Stiles finished and tilted his head to the side. "And that's what I know off the top of my mind."
The three exchanged glances speechless and at a loss on what to do next.
"Now," Stiles said and leaned forward, leaning his forearms on his knees. "What do you guys know about me?" he asked and watched the trio start to sweat under pressure. "I'll answer for you. Nothing. You know next to nothing about me."
"Because you never told us," Isaac said. "You found all those things about us because you're good at research, but-"
"I found all that because I wanted to know you!" Stiles snapped. "If you wanted to talk to me, if you wanted to be friends with me, you would have come to me! Apparently, I'm not interesting enough to a bunch of werewolves! While all of you were busy with yourselves, I spent countless nights looking into each one of you, trying to find a way to approach you, to talk to you, to find something that would-"
"We know what we did was wrong!" Erica shouted and Stiles glared at her. "We know we did you wrong, but damn it, Stiles, you said it yourself! We were too busy with ourselves. Can't you forgive us? Can't we be friends now?" Erica actually winced when Stiles' eyes darkened.
"After you ignored me for months? After you threatened me and bullied me, and used me only to push me away! I'm not a toy you can play with and throw to the side once you get bored!" Stiles yelled.
His hands were fisted by his sides and his eyes looked like amber fire.
"Stiles, please-"
"What, Erica?"
Erica backed away with her chin tucked into her chest. Stiles was scary when angry and it was scaring her. She shook her head and tried to blink away the tears forming in her eyes.
Isaac was barely keeping himself together from his position slightly behind Boyd. Right now Stiles reminded him of his father. Only with Stiles it was different. With Stiles he knew everything he said was true. Stiles' words hurt because they were the truth.
Stiles took a deep wavering breath and seemed to pull back.
"You know what hurts the most?" he spoke in a weak voice, as though he was fighting back tears. "I thought we could all be friends. I thought that once this is all over - that once we take care of the kanima and Gerard - we could all find some time to get to know each other. I thought Derek would be able to convince Scott to join his pack, because even though we're all so different we work best together. We're safest when we're together. I thought we would be able to pass over our differences and at least be able to count on each other if we ever needed saving. But the worst thing is that it did happen. I just wasn't included in that."
He stood in front of the window with his back turned on them, and as he let his hands fall to his sides, he tilted his head back and huffed.
"And why would I be?" he murmured as though he was talking to himself, "I'm not strong, or powerful, or useful. I'm just a kid with an attention deficiency disorder who pushed himself where he didn't belong."
"You're strange." Boyd interrupted him, and Isaac and Erica looked at him while Stiles tensed up without turning around to face them. "You're human. Instead of locking the door and hiding from everything, you got involved more than any human should. You hid everything from your dad to protect him. You defied Peter, you defied Derek, you protected Isaac and Erica, you stood up to Gerard Argent, you discovered a way to trap a werewolf and a kanima, and you know more about werewolves than we do."
Stiles snorted and shook his head. "You say that you want to leave because you want nothing to do with werewolves and what we deal with, but you've dealt with all of it better than we did; better than we do."
"I bet you'd be a great werewolf." Erica chuckled and Stiles snorted as he raised his left hand to rub his face.
"I'd make a poor werewolf, Erica." Stiles whispered in a raspy, strained voice.
"You'd be the best werewolf ever." Isaac countered and Stiles looked at him over his right shoulder. "You know more control than either one of us does. You're great at research, and you're strong even as a human. I think you'd give Derek a run for his money."
"You already do." Erica smirked and Stiles raised an eyebrow at her. "You have no idea how many times we've listened to Derek mumble and grumble about 'that damned, too-curious-for-his-own-good kid' who'll 'get himself killed', and how he can't believe Scott hasn't locked you away or chased you off already just for your own safety." Stiles' eyebrows touched the line of his hair.
"He never got over the fact that you saved his life back at that pool." Isaac said with a smirk. "Derek hates owning anyone anything. He thinks he should be going around rescuing everyone because 'he's the alpha'." He rolled his eyes, and while Erica and Stiles chuckled, Boyd snorted.
"Stiles?" Erica spoke in a small voice. "Why are you really leaving?" she stressed out again and Stiles sighed.
He turned around to face them before he took a seat under the window and hit his head back against the windowpane. He clasped his hands between his legs and looked at the ceiling.
The three looked at his face, bathed in the late morning light. Only then did they notice that his eyes were quite strange. Neither could actually describe the color. It couldn't be described as brown. That would be quite a dull description. The color of cinnamon was too bright. It was like sunlight breaking through topaz; deep and full of mysteries and knowledge.
"Stiles?" Isaac prompted and a small, sad smile pulled on Stiles' lips as he turned his head to look at him, making the younger teen shiver when he looked fully into those enchanting eyes.
"Because I have no place here." Stiles spoke tiredly. "And I need to find my place, right?"
The three exchanged glances not knowing what to say. Whatever they said would sound false because right now Stiles had his mind made up and wouldn't allow their words to breach his mind. His words were a twisted truth but true nonetheless. They didn't even try to get to know him. They never admitted that they needed him. If they were to be perfectly honest they didn't even know they needed him.
But the one thing they knew was that Stiles had a place where he belonged; he belonged with them.
He belonged in Beacon Hills.
He belonged in their pack.
They only didn't know how to show him that. And they feared that four and a half days wouldn't be enough to do so.
cut
Stiles frowned when his phone rang. He picked it up and raised an eyebrow when the caller ID said that it was Lydia.
"What is it?" he asked when he answered the call.
"What? No 'hello'?" Lydia's condescending voice came over the line and Stiles rolled his eyes.
"Lydia, what do you want?" Lydia sighed and Stiles could almost picture her rolling her eyes. He played at love with her for years but that was no more.
"Since you're leaving and all that, I was thinking you could come with me to the local bookstore and tell me what books I should take, since I'll be taking over researching when you're gone." Stiles' heart skipped a beat and he squeezed his eyes tightly shut. He'd forgotten how dirty Lydia could play. That one hurt more than he was willing to admit it.
"You can do it on your own." He was about to end the call when Lydia snapped at him.
"Get your ass out of that house! I'm already here!"
Stiles frowned at the phone weighing his options. He could just end the call and ignore her until she went away. Lydia wasn't known for her patience. On the other hand she was stubborn, and could easily make his afternoon living hell. Besides, it would kill some time before the night train.
"Stiles!" Lydia screeched and he jumped. He sighed and rubbed his face.
"Coming." he grunted and ended the call.
He debated taking his hoodie, but it was quite warm outside and they wouldn't be together for long. He took his wallet and made his way out. He locked the door behind himself and sighed when he looked at the car waiting for him in his drive way. Lydia was looking at him through her sunglasses and her fingers were tapping the wheel in annoyance.
He walked over to the car and hissed when he found Jackson in the front seat. "You can go alone!" he snapped, turned on his heel, and marched right back towards the house.
"Stiles!"
"I'm not going, Lydia! You can both go fuck yourselves!"
"Stiles, stop right there!" Lydia shouted and Stiles stopped on the first step leading to his porch. He turned around and looked at Lydia who got out of her car and was looking at him with her hands on her hips and a frown on her pretty face.
"Lydia, you're smart enough to go into a bookstore alone, and find the books you'll need. I'm not going." Stiles bit out.
"You're going even if I'll have to chain you up and pull you along!" Lydia snapped and Stiles sighed. He turned on his heel to look at her with a dull expression.
"Whatever stupid plan you lot came up with, I have to say I'm disappointed in you. Isaac, Boyd and Erica at least had the decency to talk with me, not order me around."
"And where are they?"
"Boyd and Erica had to go home for lunch and Isaac had to go to work." Stiles drawled, crossing his arms over his chest. "They said they'd come back later to see me off to the station. Now go. I don't feel like looking at him any more than I absolutely need, which is not at all."
"Stiles!" Lydia cried out before Stiles could turn around again. His sighed before he brushed his fingers through his growing hair. 'I need to get a haircut.'
"Would you please come?" Stiles raised an eyebrow at her. "I could really use your help." She took off her glasses and looked him in the eyes.
A few moments later Stiles sighed and shook his head.
"Fine. You have an hour." He marched over to the car, not even looking at her. He slammed the door closed harder than he should have, crossed his arms over his chest and sunk in his seat, ignoring Jackson who was looking at him over his left shoulder.
"When did you start to work out, Stilinski?" Jackson asked, looking at the lean muscles and strong torso shown by Stiles' tight, red undershirt.
"I've always been working out, Whittemore." Stiles grumbled and Jackson raised an eyebrow at him. "Contrary to your half-minded beliefs, you don't have to be first line in lacrosse to work out." Jackson glared at him while Lydia smirked.
"What bookstore should I go to?"
"The one on the crossing of Benedict's and 23rd." Stiles mumbled and Lydia nodded as she took a turn out of Stiles' street.
"So when are you leaving?" she asked almost pleasantly.
"Tonight." he answered shortly and Lydia sighed.
"I know that, but when?"
"Like I'll tell you." Stiles grumbled and they continued to ride in silence, not one of them knowing what to say.
They parked in front of the bookstore and Stiles all but jumped out of the car. Lydia and Jackson exchanged a glance once they were out and followed after Stiles who was already in the bookstore. They closed the door and nodded at the salesgirl before trying to locate Stiles, and they found him in the back of the bookstore with two books already in his hands.
"Stiles?" Lydia called out and walked over to him while Jackson followed with a sigh.
"You'll need these two." Stiles grumbled and practically threw the books in Lydia's hands before he went back to looking over the shelves. He grabbed another one and plucked it off the bookshelf. "This one's good too, but you'll need to cross-reference it with the others. Some data in it is crap." He moved on to another bookshelf. "It would be good if you studied this one as well. Deaton said some of the plants are good to know." he said and threw a book on herbs in Lydia's hands.
"Stiles, stop."
"This one's good if you run into something other than werewolves-"
"Stiles, hold on for a sec-"
"This one's also good, but it's crappy when it comes to how to protect yourself from werewolves."
"Stiles, stop!" Lydia snapped and Stiles looked at her with a raised eyebrow. She stood there looking at him, holding at least 6 books in her arms and Jackson was behind her, looking at Stiles like he's gone mad.
"You said you wanted books. I give you books." Stiles concluded and Lydia sighed. "The sooner we're done with this, sooner I'll get home." He turned his back on her, and focused on the bookshelves again.
"Are you sure you have ADHD; 'cause you seem pretty focused on leaving." Jackson droned and Stiles turned on his heel to glare at him.
"Who told you that – wait." Stiles sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "Scott." He bit out and made his way out of the bookstore. "I think you have enough books."
"Stiles, wait." Lydia groaned, threw the books in Jackson's hands and ran after Stiles. She managed to catch Stiles' right hand and stop him. "I'll pay for the books and take you home, alright?"
Stiles stared in her eyes for a moment before he sighed and looked to the side.
"Fine," he muttered after a few moments. "Hurry it up." He turned his back on her again and Lydia showed Jackson to come over. Lydia paid for her books quickly before they got out of the bookstore and walked over to the car.
"Stiles, take the front seat." Lydia all but ordered and the two teens raised eyebrows at her. "Now!" she snapped and the two did as they were told.
The moment they were back on the road, Stiles knew Lydia managed to trick him. "Where are you taking me?" he asked and sunk in his seat, not even bothering to buckle his seatbelt.
"We're going to this nice restaurant for lunch." Lydia spoke calmly. "And then we'll talk." Stiles sighed and rubbed his face with his hands.
"I don't think we have all that much to talk about. Especially we." He flailed his left hand in Jackson's general direction, and Lydia spared him a glance.
"Look, I know I haven't been paying attention to you and that we aren't exactly friends, but you have loved me for a long time-"
"I never loved you, Lydia." Stiles drawled and looked out the window while the other two looked at him. "Sure, I admired you for your strength and intelligence, and I thought we'd be great friends, but I never loved you. You can't love someone who thinks you're less than a grain of sand under their shoe."
"But-"
"You were just an excuse; a cover." Stiles interrupted her, and Lydia focused on the road, her knuckles turning white from the force she gripped the wheel with.
There went her plan to play on his emotions. She parked the car in front of a small diner and shut down the engine. Stiles followed them inside the diner, dragging his feet as they walked. He took a seat heavily while Lydia and Jackson observed him with almost matching frowns.
"Explain." Lydia commanded.
"What will you-"
"Three specials with orange juice." Lydia interrupted the waitress sharply and the girl raised an eyebrow at her.
"Yes, my queen," she muttered and walked away with Lydia glaring at her.
A moment later Lydia went back to shooting arrows at Stiles with her eyes. The teen sighed before he sunk in his seat and started playing with a napkin on the table.
"Stiles-"
"You were just a cover, Lydia. A way for me to remain this stupid, little kid everyone thought wouldn't get anywhere. I have ADHD. I can't concentrate on anything for long. People thought I was stupid ever since I was a kid. In first grade I liked this boy and I became everyone's favorite chew toy because of that. I wasn't Danny." Stiles shifted in his seat, wiping the back of his hand across his lips and glancing around the diner. He licked his lips then continued.
"He's good at everything so no one minded that he liked boys. But when it was implied that good-for-nothing Stiles liked boys as well, I became the center of ridicule." He chuckled morosely with his eyes full of sadness and something that resembled self-loathing. "So I learned how to hide. I learned how to make everyone believe I wasn't fun to laugh at. I made everyone laugh at me until people started ignoring me."
His eyes met Lydia's and she shivered under his penetrating gaze.
"I guess it worked better than I thought it would. You, Lydia Martin, were the perfect cover. You were so out of my league that it wasn't difficult to make it seem as though I was in love with an unreachable girl. By showing everyone that I was in love with you, I managed to hide the fact that I was gay. Not even Scott knows that. He's a good kid, and he was a good friend, but he can't keep his mouth shut for the life of him."
"So what you're saying is – you've built your whole image - everything we thought you were - on a lie?" Lydia whispered in shock and Stiles rolled his eyes with a humorless chuckle.
"If you do something for long enough it becomes a habit; a habit you can't shake off. I hid my ADHD behind jokes. I hid my sexual preferences behind my supposed love towards you, and I hid behind Scott, because it was so much easier to be the odd kid when there's another odd kid around."
"So basically you used us all." Jackson sneered at him and Stiles tilted his head to the right as he looked at him, making Jackson ground his teeth together when he found himself under that scrutinizing glare.
He never liked looking in Stiles' eyes for any amount of time. Looking in them made him feel as though he was weighted - almost judged.
"Figures you'd be the one who says that."
Jackson was snapped out of his thoughts when Stiles spoke up in a voice which made the Captain of the Lacrosse team feel as though he just offended him.
Stiles' eyes darted around the room when the waitress came back with their order. She left without a word again, and Lydia and Jackson frowned when they saw Stiles shifting in his seat, his eyes darting around the diner constantly and the way he practically tore the napkin he was playing with to pieces.
"What should that mean?" Jackson pressed out through his teeth, and Stiles looked at him again.
"Don't you remember?" Stiles asked and Jackson's frown deepened. "You were the one who made a laughing stock of me in first grade." Jackson choked up and recoiled, and Lydia looked at him in shock.
"You were popular even then with your newest toys and designer clothes. You were the one who laughed at me first when I kissed Caleb. You spread it around like it was something disgusting." Stiles sneered before he chuckled and picked on his fries with his fork. "I have to admit, I was surprised when you and Danny became best buds, but then I figured that both of you were popular and cool. You could do whatever you want, love whoever you want and no one would say a word. Me? I would sneeze and people would shun me for disrupting their peace."
"It's your own fault." Jackson hissed.
"My own fault?!" Stiles snapped and everyone turned towards them.
The teen leaned over the table with his eyes blazing hellish fire, and Lydia and Jackson suddenly understood what Scott and Derek meant when they said that there was something in Stiles that made Scott cower in front of him.
"My mom was dying! I was trying to fit in and my first experience was that if I was to be myself, people would laugh at me, make fun of me, and scorn me! So don't blame me if I concluded that I didn't need any of you! Then I allowed myself to think - I allowed myself to hope I would finally find a place where I'd belong; that I'd finally have more than Scott to come to when I'd need someone, and what did I get? After everything I did for Scott, he all but dumped me for Allison! Now if that isn't enough to tell me I'm not needed then I probably need a damn big sign saying 'Get the fuck out of Beacon Hills before you get yourself killed for someone who wouldn't even care'!"
"We would care, Stiles!" Lydia insisted and those scorching eyes focused on her.
"You would care?" he pressed out through his teeth with the red specks in his eyes glowing brighter. "I saved your life." He hissed and Lydia winced. "I faced Peter to save you. I risked my life to save you, and what did I get in return? Did you even think of asking me how I was? You know, sometimes I think I would be better off if I accepted Peter's bite. I might have actually been accepted as more than just a go-to kid when they needed research." He stood up while Lydia and Jackson weren't able to move. "But I guess I'm no good for that now either."
The two felt as though something was chaining them to their seats as Stiles' eyes burned something in them.
"They have you now. Perfect little Lydia Martin; the wonder-girl of Beacon Hills." Stiles grabbed his wallet from his pocket, pulled out a few bills, and slammed them on the table. "It was nice talking to you."
The two finally managed to get up when Stiles moved for the door.
"Stilinski, wait!" Jackson's head snapped to the side after he grabbed Stiles' left wrist and his cheek was formally introduced to Stiles' right fist. The blonde captain looked at Stiles in amazement as he held his aching cheek, and Stiles' eyes glared at him with eyes full of rage.
"You can go fuck yourself!" Stiles spat out, turned on his heel and all but ran out of the diner.
"Stiles!"
"I'll walk home!" Stiles shouted over his shoulder when Lydia ran after him.
"Stiles, wait! Please!" Lydia finally caught up to him, stopped in front of him and looked into his eyes imploringly.
"Stiles, look, this wasn't how this was supposed to go-"
"And how was it supposed to go?" Stiles asked heatedly, eyes awash in fury and Lydia stepped back in fear. "Did you think a lecture and a dictation of how I should react to your bullshit would go a long way? What the fuck are you all looking at!" Stiles yelled at the people looking at them, practically eating up the public display of drama.
"Stiles-" she simpered, but when he took a step back, rubbed his head with his hands and allowed his arms to fall to his sides before he turned to look at her, she forgot everything that she wanted to say.
"I tried, Lydia. I really tried. I called, I texted, I drove over to the Hale property hoping I'd run into someone, but I guess I wasn't important enough to be told that Derek finally found a better living place. I even came close to calling Peter, but I wasn't that desperate for acknowledgement. I really thought we could be friends, Lydia." Stiles pulled back, his anger toning down to a quiet simmer. "But I guess I wasn't good enough. Only the best is good enough for Lydia Martin."
Stiles caught her looking over his shoulder and he turned with a snort, smirking almost sadly at Jackson who was glaring at him.
"I wish you weren't a werewolf, Whittemore. I wonder how you'd explain to your buddies that Stiles Stilinski gave you a shiner." Stiles drawled before he huffed around a smirk and shook his head.
"I'm getting out of here," he muttered and walked past Lydia.
"That didn't go well." Jackson commented and Lydia glared at him before she pulled out her phone and pressed speed dial.
"What?" Derek snapped over the line.
"We lost Stiles. Is anyone in town?" Lydia asked and Derek sighed.
"You were supposed to be with him until nightfall."
"Don't you think I know that? We lost him! Fix it!" she ordered and Derek growled.
"I'll send someone." The call ended and Lydia threw her phone into her purse.
"Let's go. We need to find out how Stiles is leaving today." Lydia said and marched over to her car.
"He won't take the bus, that's for sure." Jackson concluded as Lydia started the engine.
"That leaves trains and planes." She muttered and sighed. "We better get to work."
cut
Stiles jumped half a step when someone honked at him. He looked over his shoulder and groaned when he found Peter smirking at him from behind the wheel of his stylish, black Porsche Panamera. He lowered his window and poked his head out.
"Need a ride?"
"I'll rather run straight into the hands of Jack the Ripper." Stiles answered sweetly and Peter shot him that amused smile Stiles hated so much.
"Well, since dear old Jack killed only women you might be safe with him." Stiles snorted and rolled his eyes. "Come on, I'll drive you home." Peter offered and Stiles snorted again.
"Thank you, I'll walk." He muttered and walked away. He groaned when Peter drove slowly beside him.
"I don't know, Stiles. It's pretty hot outside and my A/C is working well. You sure you want to walk all the way home?"
"You know you sound like a really creepy pedophile?" Stiles asked and Peter chuckled.
"Oh, come on now. You know I'm just a sociopath."
"You're a psychopath with narcissistic tendencies; get your terminology straight." Stiles muttered into his chin, knowing Peter heard him if his laugh was any indication.
"Come on, Little Red! I promise I won't bite." Stiles stopped and Peter did as well. He looked at the werewolf who was smirking at him and sighed.
"You're taking me home." Stiles stressed and Peter gave him an innocent smile.
"Sure. Cross my heart." Stiles rolled his eyes and rounded the car to take a seat. He almost sighed when the cool air of the inside of the car washed over him, and Peter chuckled.
"Buckle your seatbelt," he warned and Stiles snorted.
"If we get in an accident at least I won't have to worry about you sick bastards hounding me anymore." Stiles grumbled but put his seatbelt on never the less. Peter smirked and drove down the street.
Stiles looked out the window and relaxed in his seat. He could feel Peter glancing at him every few seconds, but he honestly couldn't make himself care. He knew Peter. He knew he was above trying to force him into anything when he had no use of it. Despite everything he did, Peter had a pretty simple philosophy on life.
Stiles could use simple right now.
"You're all packed up?" Peter asked and Stiles looked at him.
"Since the day before yesterday." He answered and Peter chuckled.
"Sorry for that little stunt we pulled yesterday."
"You're not sorry at all."
"Well saying sorry for anything right now would be a moot point, don't you think?"
Stiles wanted to smack himself from all the mounting frustration he felt. "If you're talking about all the shit you did before you miraculously came back to life then yes; it's a bit stupid to say sorry."
"I'm talking about everything the others did." Peter corrected and Stiles frowned. "Their apologies would mean nothing if they're only now sorry for not paying attention to you." Stiles sighed and hit his head against the headrest.
"Peter, were you told to pick me up?"
Peter smirked. "What if I was?"
"Then you can simply tell me what all of you are trying to do." Stiles countered and Peter chuckled.
"I don't know what they're trying to do. I was just told to pick you up and take you home."
"Yeah, right. If there's anything I know about you Peter is that you never do anything without an ulterior motive."
Peter chuckled again. "Yes, well. Maybe this time I'm just making sure you get home alright. Gerard is still on the loose and it seems the Argents vanished into thin air once Scott returned. We need to keep everyone safe, right?" Stiles raised an eyebrow at him before he caught sight of the road they took.
"Either you're taking the longer way 'round or you're going to bring me somewhere and kill me." Stiles murmured and Peter laughed.
"Don't you think that if I wanted to kill you I'd do it in a different way?"
"When I think about it you could have killed me ages ago and instead you offered to make me a werewolf." Stiles commented almost carelessly and Peter chuckled.
"You would make a great werewolf, you know?"
Stiles huffed and shook his head. "Yeah, right."
"You would." Peter insisted. "You have the strength and the control, and you already have a good anchor." Stiles raised an eyebrow at him. "Everyone needs an anchor, Stiles; humans, werewolves, everyone. It's the thing that stops us from doing something we would later regret. People without an anchor do the awful things we read about in the newspapers."
"So, you're saying that everything you did before Derek killed you was because you didn't have an anchor?" Peter sighed and nodded.
"I don't think I need to explain to you what it means to lose someone, Stiles." The teen frowned and looked at his hands which he clasped in his lap. "I lost everything. I lost my Pack. I lost my wife, my children, my brother, my nephews; everything. I guess you could say I lost not only my anchor, but I lost my sanity. All I could think of was revenge." Peter smiled sadly as he took a turn through the forest. "I guess you could say that death changes your views on a lot of things." he spoke bitterly and Stiles chuckled dully.
"I guess it does." Peter spared Stiles a glance.
"How does your dad feel about you leaving?" Stiles sighed.
"He doesn't like the fact that I'm leaving, but I guess he's glad I won't be in danger anymore."
"Does he know that you leaving this town doesn't guarantee that?" Peter asked and Stiles looked at him in confusion.
"How do you mean that?"
Peter's eyes flashed with more than the crazy gleam he seemed to project. "Facing the supernatural leaves a mark, Stiles," he intoned with knowledge. "It leaves a mark on your soul, your body, your mind and most importantly, your scent. It will attract others to you, and I'm sorry to say that there's no way for you to hide it."
"So what; you're saying that no matter what I do, no matter where I go, werewolves and god knows what else will seek me out?" Stiles asked with a frown and Peter nodded. They parked in front of Stiles' house and Peter turned in his seat to look at Stiles.
"It would have happened eventually. You have the spark, Stiles. It was only a matter of time until some supernatural creature noticed you. Sparks attract them, I don't know why but they do."
Stiles frowned and looked at his house. "So everything would remain the same," he mumbled and Peter shrugged.
"The question only remains if you would have someone there to help you." Stiles looked at him and Peter offered a small smile and looked at Stiles' house. "Wherever you're going you'll be alone for a while. Werewolves live everywhere. They'll scent you out. And not all werewolves are as human friendly as I am." Stiles chuckled at that and shook his head.
"If you're human friendly I don't want to know how non-human-friendly werewolves act." Peter chuckled and clapped Stiles' shoulder.
"I guess you'll find out," Peter said and Stiles huffed out a laugh.
"If this is all some great scheme to keep me in Beacon Hills, you guys either need someone to plan things better for you or you need more training in reverse psychology," he drawled.
"Maybe we just know that trying to force you to stay would end up in us losing you forever, and we're just trying to show you how things would be if we weren't idiots in the past." Stiles raised an eyebrow at Peter.
"I'll take that those are your words because I know for a fact that Derek would never say that; not in relation to me and definitely not out loud." Peter laughed and Stiles couldn't help but snicker. "You know, for a psychopath with narcissistic tendencies, a murderer and a werewolf, you're not so bad."
Peter battered his eyes at him with a hand on his chest. "That is the most beautiful thing anyone ever said to me."
Stiles rolled his eyes. "And here I was about to invite you in for a drink."
"Oh, I'll be happy to have a drink with you!"
"I said I was about to call you in for a drink, not that I'm inviting you in for a drink." Peter smirked at him and opened the door of his car. Stiles followed him with a smirk on his face.
"Just don't go marking the territory, Wolfman!" Stiles called out and Peter rolled his eyes.
"I thought we were past petty insults." Peter whined and Stiles chuckled as they climbed the porch. He was about to say something when he looked at the ground and frowned.
"Stiles?" Peter inquired and looked down as well. He frowned and tensed up. "I suppose that's not how it's supposed to look." Stiles nodded in agreement.
He kneeled and looked at the line of mountain ash. He fixed it after Isaac, Erica and Boyd left, but now it was broken at several points.
"Nothing gets past those keen werewolf senses, does it?" Stiles murmured and stood up. He frowned when he saw Peter's claws and the way his eyes turned blue.
"Stay outside." Peter growled and Stiles frowned.
Peter opened the door and sniffed the air. He walked in and turned on his heel when Stiles followed him. He raised an eyebrow when Stiles grabbed a baseball bat from behind the door. Stiles shrugged at him and took a firm hold of the bat.
"Precaution," he muttered, defensive.
"I thought I told you to stay out."
Stiles raised an eyebrow at Peter and the werewolf rolled his eyes. "Right." They walked further into the house, back to back.
"Smell anything?" Stiles asked as they checked the kitchen and moved on to the living room.
"Unless your dad changed his cologne there is or was someone in this house who doesn't belong here." Peter murmured.
"My dad doesn't use cologne." Stiles answered impulsively and then halted. "Wait, why do you know how my dad smells?" he asked and turned to look at Peter who gave him an innocent look.
"He has an appealing scent."
Stiles raised an eyebrow. "You're not his type." he answered dully.
"You're certain?"
"He's not into the undead."
Peter looked at Stiles with pursed lips and the teen shrugged. They heard something fall on the upper floor, exchanged a glance and then Peter was gone in a flash.
"Fuck." Stiles cursed under his breath and ran after Peter. He saw the door of his bedroom open and rushed in. Peter was in the middle of his room, looking at the broken window.
"What the…?" Stiles muttered as he looked around his bedroom. It looked like a tornado passed through.
"You either have a very excited pet-"
"… or someone thought it would be nice to redecorate." Stiles finished and Peter smirked, although his eyes were scanning the room carefully.
"You need to check if anything's missing." Peter instructed and Stiles nodded.
"Do you have any idea who did this?" Stiles asked as he started putting everything in its proper place.
"I don't recognize the scent. I can't even tell if it was a werewolf or not," Peter said and Stiles sighed.
"So it's not someone from the pack." Stiles murmured and Peter raised an eyebrow at him.
"Why would you think it was someone from the pack?"
"Because for the past three days I've seen more of them than in the past months, and they've all been acting strange. I wouldn't be surprised if this was some stupid attempt to scare me enough so that I wouldn't leave. Although now I have an even bigger need to get the fuck out of here. But this time I'd be taking my dad with me." Peter hummed and frowned when Stiles cursed under his breath.
"What is it?" Peter asked.
"My red hoodie is gone." Stiles muttered.
"When was the last time you wore it?"
"Yesterday night."
"So your scent is still fresh." Peter concluded and took his phone out of his back pocket. He looked at Stiles when the teen placed his right hand on his left forearm and shook his head at him.
"Don't call them. I don't need the whole pack sniffing around my house." Stiles asked and took his phone. He called his dad and shot a warning glance at Peter.
"Dad?"
"What is it, son?" John asked and Peter took a step closer to hear better.
"I need you to get home as quickly as possible. Someone broke in."
"What?! I'm coming! Lock the-"
"Peter is with me, dad." Stiles interjected and heard his father yelp.
"That Peter?"
"Dad, just get here as soon as possible. Peter can't even say if it was a werewolf or not. We need to find a way to take care of this."
"Will you call in the others?"
"I think I've had enough werewolves for one day." Stiles drawled and Peter rolled his eyes at him. Stiles shrugged and his shoulders relaxed when he heard his dad close the door of his car.
"I'm on my way, son. Is anything missing?"
"My bags are intact in the hallway. My room was a mess and my red hoodie is gone. Peter said that it was taken because my scent on it is still fresh."
"Lock the door of your room and get down into the living room. It's the biggest room-"
"And there are two ways in and out, I know. Just – just be safe, dad." Stiles' voice broke and Peter frowned.
"I'm on my way." Stiles took a deep breath after hanging up.
"Just don't go and have a panic attack." Peter placed his hand on Stiles' shoulder. "Let's go downstairs." Stiles nodded and Peter led him into the living room on the first floor. Stiles immediately took a seat on the couch, his legs jumping minutely with his hands fisted on his knees.
"Calm down. We'll handle this." Peter said, walking further into the living room.
"I should have left yesterday." Stiles muttered. "I should have taken dad's car and ran the fuck out of this thrice damned town."
"That would change nothing. Whatever it is that's coming after you must have been following you for a while. They would have followed you out of town as well. At least this way we're all here to find it and take care of it."
"Don't you have Gerard to hunt?" Stiles asked in a wavering voice.
"He can wait," Peter said and offering a calming smile.
Stiles chuckled almost hysterically and shook his head. "You know, I might get used to the pack suddenly caring about me."
"I think that's the point, Stiles." Peter commented and Stiles huffed.
"I won't stay where I'm not needed."
"Your dad needs you." The older werewolf gently pointed out, fingering the knickknacks on the far table near the TV.
"My dad will be happy to know I'm safe." Stiles stated.
"What if you won't be safe?" Peter asked and Stiles frowned.
The teen looked at his hands and swallowed difficultly. "Then I'll find a way to be safe."
Peter hummed. "You would be safe here."
"I see how safe I am." Stiles drawled sarcastically.
"Why won't you let me call the pack? They need to know."
"I'll be the judge of what they need to know." Stiles said. "It took me ignoring them and packing up to leave for them to notice me. It's time I got my own life, and nothing will stop me from doing just that, especially a bunch of mismatched pups who are about to lose their favorite toy."
A sad look crossed Peter's face. "You were never just a toy, Stiles. They wronged you, yes, but they did that because they didn't know what they had in you. People say that you realize what you have only when you lose it. They know they are losing you and now they are fighting for you. They realized what it means to be a pack a little over two weeks ago when they all almost died. They aren't the smartest bunch, but when they realize something then they actually do try to make things right. They are determined to change. Don't you think they deserve a chance?" Stiles frowned as he stared at his hands.
"They never gave me a chance." Stiles murmured into his chin and Peter snorted.
"Well then let's see what you've been working with." He sighed and started to count on his fingers. "You have your dear friend Scott who became a werewolf on pure accident, and fell in love with the daughter of a hunter. He wasn't smart enough to stay away from her, but he risked his life, your life and a lot of other things for his selfish needs."
"You have Derek who thinks that he can protect everyone by pushing them away. You have Erica, Isaac and Boyd who are hormonal teens and were at the bottom of the social food chain until they became werewolves." Peter gave Stiles a telling look then. As if to say that the trio were in the same boat as Stiles before getting the Supernatural Upgrade. "There's Lydia and Jackson who despite being at the proverbial top of the food chain, have social skills that make me look like a great alternative. Then of course you have me, and I am perfection at its best."
Stiles snorted and shook his head. "Wow. If I didn't know better I'd say you're trying to make me blush."
Peter chuckled and shook his head. "I'm just stating the truth. I've never regretted anything in my life as I regret the fact that I ran into Scott and not you on that night. I said it earlier and I'll say it again. You would make a great werewolf."
Stiles looked at his hands and hummed. "Derek doesn't seem to think so."
"Because he knows you're strong." Peter said. "He knows you don't need to be a werewolf to get things done. Just look to whom he did offer the bite." Stiles frowned and nodded after a few minutes.
"Once is an incident, two's a coincidence, three's a pattern." Stiles muttered.
"He needed someone to depend on him, and you don't fit the pattern. You don't depend on anyone." Peter concluded and Stiles snorted.
"Right now I kinda depend on your nose."
Peter chuckled and shrugged. "Don't get me wrong, Stiles. If I were you I would be long gone enjoying warmer parts of God's green earth. But the fact is that even though it might not seem so, you do have a place here. You aren't the problem, Stiles; they are. Losing you will hurt, but maybe in the future they'll think twice about taking anyone for granted."
Stiles nodded and looked out the window. "I have a train ticket for tonight at 10." he whispered. "My first thought is to leave so my dad wouldn't end up caught in the middle. His job is dangerous as it is and I can't lose him too." Peter sighed and clapped his hands against his thighs.
"It's your choice, Stiles. Stay here and face it, or run away. But you have to know that while you are strong, alone you can't face whatever this is. You'll have to keep on running and running fast."
Stiles nodded. "I know that." He swallowed and licked his lips. "I'm still human, and humans can only do so much. I know my limits. I can't run as fast as you guys can catch me, especially now that Erica took my engine." He growled through his teeth and Peter smirked in amusement.
"She just loves your Jeep."
Stiles huffed and looked at Peter from under his eyebrows. "Then maybe I should run her over with it. See how much she'll love that."
Peter chuckled only to tens up and look towards the door. "Your dad's here." The door opened in that moment and the Sheriff walked in. He immediately rushed over to Stiles and pulled him into a hug.
"Take your bags. I'm getting you out of here." John pressed through his teeth and Stiles raised an eyebrow at him.
"Dad, take a deep breath and calm down. My hoodie was taken; I'm fine."
"I know, but something's after you. You need to get of here."
"If I do it will just follow me. I can't put grandma and grandpa in danger." Stiles reasoned and John frowned before he looked at Peter.
"Can you track it? Can you find it before it comes after Stiles?"
"Not alone. Coming back to life weakened me. I'm not up to full strength yet. The pack will need to get involved if we plan to find this thing."
"They're looking for Gerard," Stiles said.
"At the moment they're all more concerned about you." Peter reasoned. "Gerard is a dying old man. Scott fed him with enough mountain ash to kill an alpha. He won't last long either way. We're just going after him to make sure he doesn't hurt anyone before he dies."
"He won't necessarily die," Stiles said. "Mountain ash while deadly to werewolves isn't dangerous for humans. It may have stopped the transformation, but God knows how it modified Gerard's DNA."
"And that's why you're the brains." Peter drawled and Stiles smirked.
"Call in the others." John said. "I'm not happy about this, but if Stiles' life is in danger, we need to take care of whatever's coming after him as soon as possible." Peter nodded and left the living room.
"Dad-"
"Now I'm even happier you didn't leave yesterday."
"Maybe if I did this wouldn't have happened. This thing came in only now. It came after Erica, Isaac and Boyd spent the morning here. It came after I left with Lydia and Jackson. Maybe if I left yesterday it wouldn't have come after me."
John sighed and rubbed his face with his hands before he heavily took a seat in the closest armchair. "With each day I'm more and more sorry you didn't tell me about this sooner," he muttered and Stiles sighed.
He knelt on the floor in front of John and placed his hands on his knees. "We'll get this over with quickly, dad. And once it's over I'll leave. I'll get as far away from all these things as possible. I promise." Stiles whispered and John smiled down at him.
"I don't know, Stiles. At least this way I'm here to make sure you're alright. When you'll be far away from me, I won't be able to take care of you." Stiles smirked at him.
"I've been fine until now."
"Yes, because no matter how self-absorbed they are, those werewolves were always there. Out there you'll be alone. And trust me; that isn't a comforting thought." Stiles frowned at that and looked to the side.
'I know that, dad,' he thought as he looked out the window. 'And I don't know what to do about it.'
"They're on their way." Peter spoke from the doorway and the Stilinski men stood up to face him.
"Good. Let's see what we can gather here and try to see where to start." Peter nodded and smirked.
"After you, Sheriff."
cut
More comes as soon as possible.