I'm back! Also, I had a small boo-boo on the last chapter, Stiles has been gone far longer than a month…around five months, because he disappeared at the beginning of the school year. Also, I've finally caught up with Teen Wolf….and may I say…GAH! I loved the twins….Though I may have whooped with joy when Alison died…Anyway, enjoy!

Derek and the Pack

"He isn't exactly the kid you grew up with. He has been molded into something else, like the bite molded you. " Deaton tried to explain to Scott, and the remaining pack.

"Just because he's changed physically.."

"He hasn't been changed just physically, physical transformations don't change someone's smell as dramatically as his has changed. He's more than likely been bonded to the twins, and I have to tell you to fear the worst, he may not be Stiles anymore."

"What?" Scott yelled, nearing hysterics.

Deaton ignored Scott and glanced at Derek, silently telling him he needed to buck up and do his duty as an alpha. Derek sighed heavily, seeming reluctant to release his hold on Stiles but he did so, gently. He placed Stiles on the ground, then gathered his two betas and forced their faces into his chest, Scott struggled, his anger and sadness making him violent. But Derek held firm, and within a few moments Scott melted into his alpha's embrace and wept.

"What did they do to him?" his voice was muffled by Derek's shirt.

"Well….his death's helped change his appearance, the more he died, the more his appearance would change, from his first form to his original state. And then when he was Bonded to the twins, his memories were hidden, for all intents and purposes, our Stiles doesn't exist." Deaton responded.

"What can we do to get him back?" Derek asked, silencing his betas.

"Well….we need to break the Bond."

Stiles

My head was pillowed on something warm, but hard, it was obviously not my pillow and from the feel of the hair on my cheek, if I had to take a gander at it, I was using someone's leg. Hopefully it was a guy's, because if not, then it better be November because those things needed some wax, like, the terminator needs a chill pill.

Anyway, it was time to open my eyes….any time now….ok, so my eyes were rebelling, lets try my legs. Something needed to respond. Ah! A twitch, there was hope yet. Now, eyes, open says-me, open please, open-open-open-open…they popped open. Holy Crap it was bright.

I forced myself to be on high alert, I couldn't smell the twins, and that was bad, like a girl without chocolate during the time of the month bad. Something twitched, if your brain could get itchy, mine rolled in all things itch inducing. Shadow people hovered over me, thankfully it was clear that they didn't notice my state of awareness yet, and I planned to use that as an advantage. Time to get the hell outta dodge and get reinforcements…if only my feet would work….One second I was using a furry leg as a pillow, the next second I was lamely crab walking away, as quickly as possible. The shadow people came into focus, it was the Hale pack, and their leader. They looked at me, various stages of surprise marred their features, then of course I bumped into a pair of legs.

Sheepishly I looked up, a mocha skinned man stared at me, with one eyebrow raised. He seemed torn between amusement and uncertainty. I quickly did a….breakdance like move, swinging my legs around me and coming to a stand, granted it was far less graceful – I blame the numb feet.

'What do you want?' I signed, hoping that at least one of them knew a little of sign language – I swear it should be mandatory to learn in school, ppsshh on Spanish and math.

I watched as the Hale Alpha held his betas back, while the mocha skinned one seemed to take charge.

'We need to talk,' He said and signed.

'Give me the twins' I responded, inching towards the door.

'First you need to –'

I ignored him in favor of looking at the seemingly grief stricken pack. One of the betas seemed painfully familiar and not just because I was in the majority of his classes….I could imagine him as a little kid…sniveling because he skinned his knee, then as I threw lacrosse balls at him….my legs got wobblier than a spider on ice skates…I remembered. So, I did the typical me thing – and pointed an accusatory finger at him and left my mouth wide open, inviting any and all bugs to enter. Scott McCall, my werewolf best friend, who, on occasion tried to eat me….then…he abandoned me. Him and the pack, my finger slowly retreated, and anger curled in me. He…..they….left me, only to come back when I was no longer me….my hand went to my face and traced the nearly faded edges of scars from that fateful night. The Alpha pack took me in, Deucalion took me in, he didn't care that I wasn't complete, he didn't turn his back on me.

Derek and the Pack

At first they were thrilled, Stiles was awake and functioning somewhat like their old Stiles. He scrambled around and finally found his feet, silently demanding answers. Only to ignore Deaton, and stare at Scott, with a look of concentration on his face that mirrored the Stiles from long past. He slowly raised a hand and pointed the typical Stiles-Finger at Scott, and for a second, the pack felt hope, hope that their pack-mate was going to return. Even though Deaton had warned them that that would more than likely never be the case, only, their hope was slowly extinguished when the finger was lowered, and a fist took its place. Understanding in Stile's eyes turned to contempt, and anger seemed to flow out of him, with more force than any waterfall. It seemed Deaton was wrong, Stiles remembered, and he remembered what they did to him.

'You,' Stiles signed, while Deaton translated, being wise and standing to the side. Far enough away should any violent matters arise, that he would be out of the path of destruction, yet he was close enough to translate. 'You abandoned me,' Stiles slapped his hands together with force, his violent violet eyes seemed to glow. 'After everything, after all I did, instead of thanking me, you threw me aside because I wasn't good enough. Because I was human, a weak link, something that had no purpose within a pack of wolves. Only to come back to me when I was broken, when I had nothing – I wasn't even a husk of my former self, and you dared to apologize…' it was clear Stiles was having trouble forming his words, his hands were shaking so dramatically.

The Hale pack remained seated, they weren't sure what to think, what to feel, they watched and listened in a detached sense of reality.

'Damn you,' Stiles glared at the wolves he once called friends, and dare he say it, family. 'I hope Deucalion destroys you.' Deaton's voice wavered at the last part, he looked even more wary, but it was unclear who or what he feared more.

Stiles turned his back on them and walked out, slamming the door with so much force a crack formed in the trim. So that was it, a war against the Alpha pack, and it seemed, a war against their friend.

The End!

Ok, so, I'm evil, I know it. You'll just have to wait for the next story – what will happen, will Stiles forgive them in the end, or will the Hale pack be destroyed? And what about Lydia and his dad, will they be pulled in – or will Stiles perish?

Until next time, Adieu!