By the time Stiles came round again his head was aching. Spots danced behind his closed eyelids and he rubbed at them viciously as he sat up, startling at the rustle his movement caused. Tentatively he opened his eyes, half worried that he would be greeted by the whiteness again, but instead he looked upon the familiar sight of the forest.

Glancing around to get a firmer baring, Stiles was startled to realise that he sat exactly where he had fallen during the fight. Daylight seeped through the canopy into the clearing, but it was impossible to say how long had passed since he had taken the bolt to the torso and wound up in limbo. There was still evidence of the battle all around him, claw marks on the trees, blood ominously spilt in various splashes, and even a few bullets and arrows scattered within Stiles' view, but he could see no bodies, something which he was vaguely glad for.

Perhaps the most disturbing thing about the clearing was the mound of rocks piled up directly behind where Stiles had woken. There was something eerie about them, and he was sure they had not been there before. Crawling to his knees and then boosting himself to standing, Stiles wandered towards the mound, brushing the mud from his hands onto his jeans as he went.

Up close it became obvious what it was. The markings on the upturned rocks of the top combined with the overall shape left no doubt in his mind. It was a grave.

Sickness bubbled in his chest. A choking, cloying feeling that itched at his throat. He wondered whose grave it was, who had died. Every name that his mind came up with sent another jolt of pain rocketing through him until he was panting on the spot, harsh shallow breaths slipping past his bared teeth. A breeze blew through the clearing ruffling his jacket around his arms and causing him to shiver despite himself. A leaf that was perched on top of the grave shook minutely before it was picked up and carried away on a gust of wind. Stiles stared at the writing on the grave, the writing that was now visible with the leaf gone, the writing that both lifted his heart and tore it in two.

Stiles Stilinski

RIP

It was simple and crude, cut painstakingly into a rock in sharp jagged lines, but it was clear and heartfelt. The effort that had gone into it, that had gone into the grave as a whole, caused tears to pool in his eyes, and he felt his knees go weak, so he settled back down on the mossy floor of the forest and allowed himself a moment to sob and laugh until it wasn't clear which was which, and to generally wrap his head around everything that had happened. Even with the way his life was going, it wasn't every day that he managed to come back from the dead.

Minutes passed as he sat by his own grave, stroking the carved stone subconsciously as he thought over the events of the day? Days? He didn't really know at that point. All he did know was that somehow he had been raised from the dead. Everything else was kind of fuzzy. He sighed in frustration.

Finally, after letting himself wallow a little longer, he pushed up off of the leaf litter, and began to walk away from the clearing in the direction of his house. It had been a long day, he just wanted to see his dad.

Stepping through the front door was surreal. He knew he hadn't been gone long, but it felt like lifetimes to him and the sudden familiarity of the action had shocked him. He'd been pleasantly surprised to find his keys still safe in his pocket along with his wallet and phone, and one missed call from his dad had flashed on the screen when he had turned the phone on. One missed call wasn't bad, it either meant that his dad wasn't all that worried about where he was because he had no reason to be worried, or that he had been informed of his son's passing and had realised that calling him would be useless. He really hoped that it wasn't the second.

'Dad?'

The sound echoed around the house as he pricked his ears for a response. The cruiser was in the driveway so Stiles figured that the Sheriff was home, but he wanted to be sure, plus it didn't hurt to announce himself. He wasn't all that sure whether he would be received well, after all, there was a chance that his dad thought he was dead. There was no answer, and after a quick peek in the kitchen, Stiles moved towards the stairs.

On the landing he caught sight of a clock blinking in the gloom. Its florescent numbers told him that it was ten minutes to eight on a Saturday which meant that it was highly likely that his dad was still in bed, sleeping soundly. That was only confirmed by the loud snores Stiles could hear from the room at the end of the hall. Smiling to himself, Stiles knocked once on the door and twisted the doorknob in his hand.

Inside the room was dark, curtains pulled to keep the light out. The bed in the centre of the room was a mess, covers everywhere and limbs protruding at odd angles. Stiles knew he got his restless sleeping from his dad, but it still amused him to see the normally so composed Sheriff drooling into his pillow in the early hours of a Saturday. Crouching down he gently shook his dad's shoulder.

'Hey dad, I just wanted to tell you I'm home.'

His dad grunted and rolled his head to the side, squinting into the darkness to better see Stiles, before he closed his eyes again and buried his head back into his pillow.

'That's great son. Now go away.'

He grabbed the pillow that he wasn't lying on and chucked it in Stiles' general direction, listening with a small smile as Stiles jumped out of the way of the flying object and ran towards the door, giggling to himself. As he heard the door click shut, the sheriff rolled over once more and fell asleep again.

Stiles wandered down the hallway to his room, and began to pull off the dirty clothes he was wearing, resolving to shower before changing into clean ones. He was relieved that his dad seemed to have no idea about his brief run in with death, but he knew that the pack wouldn't be so oblivious and they had to be his next stop.

Once he was washed and dressed in clean clothes, Stiles wrote a note to his dad telling him he was heading out and would be back for lunch, before he grabbed his keys and valuables and hopped into the jeep. She was still parked outside of his house, so he figured he must not have driven to the battle the night before (because he had worked out that he had only been dead one night) though he couldn't remember for sure.

He figured the easiest place to start looking for the pack was at the Hale house as it was a Saturday and they always trained and bonded together there on the weekend. He wondered if that would be the case seeing as they were all still recovering from their battle wounds, and perhaps still reeling over the loss of their pack clown, but he felt it the smartest place to start anyway.

Drawing closer to the wreckage of the house Stiles could see the various cars parked outside and he knew he had made the right choice. He swung his car in alongside Jackson's Porsche and unbuckled his belt, breathing deeply to prepare himself.

He wasn't really sure how one brought themselves back from the dead in polite society. It wasn't really a situation that one came across in day to day life, or, well, ever. He doubted there were books on the subject, or pamphlets with a step by step guide, so he guessed that the easiest way would be to waltz through the door and let them work it out for themselves.

However, upon entering the house it became apparent that no one was home and Stiles figured they were probably out on a run or something. Werewolf activities and all of that. So he hunkered down on the sagging remains of an old couch and waited for them to return, nerves biting away at him until eventually, he fell asleep.

'Stiles?'

'What the fuck?'

'Is that him? How is that him?'

A rough hand jostled Stiles' shoulder, the hand retreating quickly when he let out a sleepy moan. He rolled till he was sitting upright and let out a tremendous yawn, taking his sweet time waking up. Finally he set his hands in his lap and looked up at the group circling him.

Derek was the closest, probably the one who had shoved him awake. Stiles gave him a quick glare for that and felt a little bad when his confused, pinched face became a little hurt. Scott's eyes were full of wonderment of puppy proportions, and Isaac seemed to be balancing his wonderment with a healthy dose of suspicion. Boyd's face was a mask of calm but his eyes hinted at interest. Erica's mouth was hanging open, disbelief written across her face as if someone had used permanent marker. Jackson was nearer the back of the group, withdrawn and feigning disinterest, but Stiles caught him casting confused glances in his direction and took that to mean that Jackson was practically gaping alongside Erica. It was quite a sight.

When the stunned silence stretched on a little too long, Stiles began to fidget, and when that failed to quieten the uncomfortable feeling inside him, he raised a hand in a pitiful wave, tugging the corners of his mouth up into a small smile.

'Er, hi guys. How are you?'

There was no answer but Derek grabbed him by the front of his hoodie and dragged him over to the nearest wall which he then proceeded to slam Stiles into. Dust trickled down from the ceiling and the entire building shook and creaked ominously. Pressing in close, Stiles whimpered in fear as Derek tilted his head back with a quick butt of his head and began sniffing around his neck. Unsure of what was happening, Stiles stayed locked in place, reluctant to move lest the wolf molesting him became enraged and went for the kill. He wasn't sure what Derek was doing but after all of the threats he wasn't going to do anything to provoke Derek 'ripping his throat out… with his teeth' as he was so fond of threatening.

Suddenly, the sniffing stopped and Derek backed away. Stiles stumbled as the grip on his hoodie disappeared and he was left confused and leaning against the crumbling wall. Derek moved back to where his pack was looking on in confusion that mirrored Stiles', and he sighed as if it were a great hassle to explain just what the hell he was doing pressing all up in Stiles' business.

'I was checking to see if Stiles was possessed. He's not.'

All eyes turned on Stiles and he shrugged half-heartedly, straightening his hoodie.

'You could have just asked Sourwolf, unlike you I have no aversion to sharing information.'

Derek growled under his breath.

'Regardless of you tendency to babble, there was a possibility that you might be possessed without your knowledge. I had to know for sure and now I do. What I don't know is how you are standing here right now if not through possession.'

Stiles laughed as he made his way back to the burnt out sofa and plonked himself down in it, choking on the dust that was disturbed by his graceless descent. He grinned widely at Scott as he tentatively came to sit beside Stiles, and gave him a friendly punch to the shoulder before turning back to Derek.

'Well, now that you and your freaky werewolf senses have cleared me of demonic possession, I think we can all relax. As far as I know I'm still plain old human Stiles, so sorry about that, but I come in peace. Seriously, no harm intended on my part. All I know is I took a shot to the chest, had a quick chat with a voice that said my time on this planet wasn't up and beamed me back down here. I woke up a couple of hours ago in the clearing – Oh, I really appreciate the grave by the way. Really sweet of you guys – but yeah. I went to check on my dad, then came straight here. That's about all I know though.'

He took in the puzzled looks, watching carefully as they took everything he said in.

'This… voice-'

'No need to be so patronising Derek, I know it sounds ridiculous but come on. I'm a dead man walking chatting about his resurrection act with a bunch of super humans with a furry little secret come the full moon. Is a disembodied voice really that unbelievable?'

A scowl.

'Fine, point taken. But this voice, what did you talk about with it?'

Stiles scratched his head, the fuzziness in it was buzzing in the background and he was finding it hard to concentrate on those memories.

'Um, it's all a little fuzzy to be honest. But basically we just discussed how awesome I am, how the world needs me, and then I woke up in a bed of leaves, with a pounding headache, and no sign whatsoever of any wound.'

'That's all you remember?' Isaac piped up from Derek's left, shrinking a bit as the Alpha turned to look at him. Stiles smiled.

'Yeah, pretty much. That and a very specific image of whiteness. Neither of which are all that useful. Sorry.'

There was another uncomfortable silence as everyone considered the information, and Stiles eventually got bored. He yawned and stretched before rising to his feet and heading towards the door. At the frame, he turned back to address the wolves, startling when he found that Derek had followed him and was standing very close to his back.

'Alright. So, unless any of you have any useful insights, I am going to head home, have lunch with my dad, finish my Chemistry lab and then watch some crap television before bed. Because frankly I am exhausted. If you need me that is where I will be. I'll see you all tomorrow.'

Derek's hand on his shoulder stopped him from leaving and he sighed before turning around to face the Alpha. Derek's face was confused, and he peered into Stiles' eyes worriedly as if he were afraid what he might see. Derek's eyes were deep and dark and they held a look of such concern and, dare he say it, care, that Stiles couldn't look away. After a minute of staring, Derek huffed and dropped his hand, breaking eye contact.

'You sure you're ok?' He questioned, his voice soft and genuine. Startled, Stiles blinked for a long moment before smiling in what he hoped was a reassuring manner and replied in an equally quiet voice.

'Yeah Derek. I'm fine, I swear. I'll see you tomorrow.'

He waited for a nod before grinning at the rest of the pack, swivelling on his heel, and heading towards his Jeep.

That night he dreamt of Derek Hale's eyes. The following morning he convinced himself it had never happened.

So, this chapter was quite long, but I hope you liked it all the same. All your reviews are so nice, so thank you for them. I'll keep updating if you guys keep reading, that is a promise.