The first one of Derek's Pack to hunt Stiles down was Isaac and Stiles couldn't say that he was actually surprised. Because before Stiles had left, before he'd run, he and Isaac had gotten pretty close. That was after Isaac had gotten over his arrogant, over-confident attitude of a newly turned werewolf. After that superficial part of him dissolved, he became fragile. Underneath it all he was still broken from the treatment he'd received from his father. He'd needed someone to turn to, to comfort him and for some reason that person had been Stiles.

Stiles still didn't know why. He didn't particularly care to. All he knew was that he'd felt guilty when he left and still felt guilty for ditching Isaac like that. It was this knot that was tied up in his belly and only started to loosen when Isaac crawled in through his bedroom window the next morning, waking Stiles up.

Even at twenty five, Isaac didn't seem to have changed too much. He certainly didn't hesitate to clamber onto Stiles' bed and throw an arm over his chest. Isaac buried his face in the side of Stiles' neck, uncaring that they were from two different Packs, that it had been nine years and that if anyone walked in on them now, they'd deem this either inappropriate due to their age or they'd decide that they were dating.

But it was neither of those things. They were wolves. Isaac had probably been the closest thing to Pack that Stiles had had last time he had been in Beacon Hills. Isaac had needed him, wanted him around more to the point and not even Scott could say both of those things. Unfortunately, Isaac just hadn't been enough to stick around for.

"You left," Isaac mumbled into the flesh of his neck. It wasn't an accusation, it was just a statement of fact.

"I had to," Stiles replied, tightening his arms around Isaac and pulling him in more, feeling the other guy snuffle into the side of his neck. It was sort of adorable and it reminded him of Pack. It filled a space inside of him that not having them around left, or at least filled it a little.

"I know," Isaac told him and his heart didn't stutter at all. The beat remained even, because Isaac did know. Isaac knew that Stiles had been on the edge, that he hadn't felt like he was Pack. Stiles had told him about all those insecurities years ago when they were teenagers and in exactly the same position. He'd told him and Isaac had listened. He'd told Stiles that he was Pack to him, because honestly, Isaac hadn't known about how the other felt. He hadn't known if Stiles was Pack or not, he just knew that he felt like he was to him.

That had been enough for a while, but in the end they'd both known Stiles was just going to throw his hands up and quit eventually.

Stiles rested his cheek against the top of Isaac's head and breathed in the familiar scent of him, committing it to memory again.

"I missed you though," Isaac said and his heart didn't stutter that time either.

Stiles smiled. "I missed you too," he replied, which was the truth, "And I'm sorry." He was more sorry than he could say, more sorry than he knew how to express. Because he'd abandoned Isaac. Isaac had asked him not to go, had begged him not to, but Stiles had still gone. Isaac was the only person that Stiles had said goodbye to other than his father. Hell, Isaac had helped him pack once he'd realised that Stiles wasn't going to change his mind.

Isaac whined low in his throat and exhaled loudly against Stiles' neck and Stiles could remember when he was human and he'd thought being wrapped up like this with Isaac had been so strange. He'd done it, but it had been strange. Now it was just natural.

"Derek's mad," Isaac told him an hour or so later when they were sitting side by side on the bed, a box of cereal in between Stiles' knees. They were eating it dry, neither of them having been bothered to dig out bowls or anything like that. "Like majorly mad."

Unlike when Isaac was outside with the rest of his Pack, with anyone else, submission and nervousness wasn't written into every line of his body. He was relaxed, one leg hanging over the side of the bed, the other one lying flat, his thigh pressing against Stiles' as he leant into him.

"Why specifically?" Stiles asked, because he could think of a lot of reasons why Derek would be pissed. The guy was eternally cranky, it was like it was his default mood or something.

"Well he's stressed out at the moment because we've got another Pack trying to move in on our territory and push us out," he explained, shoving another handful of cereal into his mouth and then proceeding to talk through it, "But after you left he flipped out, he didn't like you saying you weren't ever Pack."

Stiles snorted, "Well I wasn't."

Isaac just shrugged, bumping Stiles a little bit when he did so, "I think that reaction means that he was under the impression you were."

"Could have fooled me."

The other werewolf just snorted and rolled his eyes, saying nothing more. No doubt because he knew that Stiles was thinking at a thousand miles a minute about what he had just said. Thinking about how maybe he had belonged a little bit once upon a time. Thinking about Derek.

In the back of his mind though, Stiles couldn't help but think that this, this was exactly why he'd been avoiding coming back. It was freaking him out and he didn't know what the hell he was supposed to be thinking about anything. He didn't like it. Not at all. But there wasn't much he could do about it now that he was there. It would have looked cowardly if he'd just left.

That was the one thing that he was going to refuse to do while he was here: look weak in front of them ever again. Look weak in front of Derek ever again. That just wasn't going to happen.