Flashback chapter, in case it wasn't obvious. . . xD
Stiles smiled at the sight of a sleeping Derek, passed out on the couch next to him. The rest of the Pack were all sprawled on the floor and it was like a maze that he had to pick his way through in order to get to the door. A part of him, a big part of him he'd admit, wanted to stay, but he knew his Dad would be pissed if he stayed out any longer. He had about an hour before his Dad got home and if he left now he could beat him back and pretend he'd been there all along. It would be that simple.
So Stiles left, taking one last look at everyone's sleeping form, his eyes lingering on Derek and then drifting to Isaac who had been curled up on the floor near Stiles' feet. Nobody knew how close he and Isaac had gotten, because he knew that Isaac didn't want them picking up on any sort of weakness. He wanted to be strong like the rest of them and that couldn't happen if he admitted that he spent most nights curled up next to Stiles and using him as a breathing comfort blanket.
Stiles didn't mind though. It made him feel like Pack, even though he knew that deep down he wasn't really. It was obvious in the way that they all slept. Everyone was sprawled out on the floor, but they were all touching, limbs thrown over each other and heads pillows on stomachs. Derek was set apart slightly as the Alpha, but what excuse did Stiles have? He was set apart because he was human? No, that wasn't even right, because Lydia and Allison were human. Except they were both mated, so maybe it did make sense after all.
Pulling a slight face, Stiles tore his eyes away from them and shut the door behind him quietly. He knew that after the day spent rolling around in the woods, it'd take a lot to wake any of them up. They all slept like rocks, even Derek, not that the Alpha would admit to it.
"Aww, that's sweet, you actually think that you're a part of this Pack, don't you?"
Stiles jumped at the sound of her voice, the sarcasm dripping from the words. He whipped around to see her leaning there against the side of the house, perfect as always and he hadn't realised actually that she hadn't been lying in amongst the others.
A horrible smile was stretching her lips and it made him feel ill inside, just like her words made him feel like he was tying himself into knots. "Sweetie, you're not," she said, taking a step closer, her head tilting to the side and that smile growing even wider. She was enjoying this, enjoying whatever it was that she saw on his face. "You're like a pet or something, a little trophy human."
And he wanted to dispute that, he wasn't to say that he was something, that he was a part of the Pack, but when he opened his mouth, all that came out was, "Shut up Erica."
She laughed, her head tipped back and the sound ringing out cruelly. There was no other sound but that laugh and Stiles dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands to try and keep his emotions in check. He didn't need her thinking that she was winning, that he was weak. When really, they all knew that both of those things were true.
Normally, she left him alone after one or two spiteful sentences, but apparently this time it wasn't enough.
"You think you're something to them, to any of them, but you're not," she said, twirling a piece of hair around a clawed finger and smiling an ugly smile. He knew what she was doing by shifting ever so slightly, she was showing him why she was better. She was proving why she was accepted and he wasn't. "You're just some stupid little human that's allowed to stick around," she smirked, "And what do you think will happen when he finds out about your little obsession, when Derek realises that you love him?"
Stiles cringed, he couldn't help himself, because that right there was something he worried about daily. Derek would probably kick his ass if he found out, or worse, he'd laugh.
"It's kind of pitiful actually, because really Stiles, why would he ever want someone like you?" she asked him, moving closer, too close, but he couldn't seem to remember how to make his feet work. And when he did, it was a mistake, because he'd backed himself up against his jeep with nowhere to run. He was stuck, stuck listening to what she had to say. "Why would he even look at you twice when he has someone like me?" She laughed at the expression on his face and he didn't want to know what he looked like.
She pressed closer to him, her clawed fingers scratching lightly along his jaw as she gripped his chin."Aww, didn't know that, did you?" she asked, her head tipped back as she laughed again. Stiles didn't understand how anyone could be so beautiful but also so ugly at the same time. "He's mine Stiles. He's my mate, this is my Pack and I think we both know you don't really belong here, don't we?"
She darted in and licked a stripe up the side of his cheek and laughed at his disgusted expression. Dancing backwards, her eyes flickered to amber as she grinned. "I'd just quit while you're ahead, Stiles," she told him, still walking backwards towards the house again, towards Derek, "I mean really."
Stiles didn't even wait until she'd left completely. He just scrambled into the jeep and drove and he was pretty proud of himself, because he managed to get all the way home before the tears fell, before the sobs crawled up and out of his throat, clawing at his insides.
And that was how his Dad found him not long after, curled in on himself by the front door, his face red and ugly looking, the tears still carving glistening tracks down his face. His Dad hadn't seen him like that since his mum had died, since the entire world had felt like it was suddenly too heavy, had felt like it was crushing him. He knew he was scaring his Dad being like that again, especially when his sobs turned into a full blown panic attack.
He clung to his Dad like he had as a child, pressing his face into his Dad's work shirt and just crying. He didn't know why his Dad agreed so easily when Stiles told him he had to get away from Beacon Hills. He thought maybe it was a combination of seeing Stiles so upset and of thinking he was only going to need a week or so to calm down.
And that was how Stiles got to leave, because of his Dad. It was his Dad that made the call to his mother's sister, to Stiles' Aunt Susan. It was his Dad that tucked him up into bed and told him that they'd leave as soon as he was ready, that they'd leave in the morning.
But it was Isaac who helped him pack his bags. It was Isaac who climbed in through Stiles' bedroom window as usual and pulled him close as soon as he saw Stiles' red rimmed eyes. Stiles didn't cry again, he didn't let himself, but he felt like he wanted to when Isaac stared at him like the whole world was shattering the moment Stiles told him that he had to go.
"Don't," he sounded like he was choking on words as his hands clutched at Stiles' shoulders, like that could keep him there, keep him in place, "Don't leave me, you can't leave me." And eventually the quiet pleading turned into begging and the begging turned into heartbreaking sobs and Stiles just sat on the floor with Isaac, rocking him gently and muttering, "I have to," over and over again.
Because Isaac was the only one that would understand. Isaac knew how he felt, Isaac knew that he didn't belong.
"I need to get away from here," Stiles told him, his hands framing either side of Isaac's face, their foreheads pressed together and Stiles didn't realise until then that he was crying too, "I'm not Pack, I'll never be Pack, so I just have to go, I have to learn how to be me again." He had to learn how to live again, because he'd forgotten how ever since this entire werewolf thing had happened.
Isaac didn't ask him not to leave again, but the request was written in his entire posture, in his expression as he helped Stiles pack up his bags. He looked so much like a kicked puppy when he realised that Stiles was packing far more than he'd ever need for a week. He was packing almost everything, everything of any importance. All of his clothes, pictures of his mother, pictures of the Pack, pictures of him and his Dad. He took it all, took anything and everything that was important, leaving behind all unnecessary items or items that just hurt too much to look at.
His Dad didn't look surprised to see Isaac when he helped Stiles carry down his bags to the car. But then, Isaac had become a practically permanent fixture in Stiles house recently. He'd become the new Scott, the pre-werewolf Scott at least. And yet, Isaac wasn't Scott's replacement, he was just something new.
Isaac hugged him and pressed his wet face into the crook of Stiles' neck, wrapping Stiles up in his scent in that way that he was always doing it seemed. "Don't forget me," Isaac muttered and Stiles knew he wasn't supposed to hear it, which was why he said nothing. He just hugged Isaac back just as tightly and then physically had to tear himself away, refusing to look in the car's mirrors to see Isaac watching the car leave like Stiles knew he was doing.
And then things had just seemed to steam roll.
A week at his Aunt's had turned into two and two weeks had turned into a month and then before he knew it summer was over and he was enrolling in the local high school. His Dad didn't complain, but Stiles would have had to have been an idiot not to hear the plea in his voice. He ignored it and pushed on and met Maggie in high school, recognised the signs immediately and called her out on being a werewolf, because even though he didn't want to admit it then, he missed the supernatural in his life. And Maggie, Maggie didn't question why Stiles turned off his phone all the time, why he ignored all calls, why he eventually changed his number, but still kept all his old contacts written down on a piece of paper. Unlike his aunt, Maggie understood that Stiles just needed to heal, he just needed time.
It was Maggie who introduced him to Rory and the others and it was all of them that made Stiles learn how to live again. It had been a year since he'd moved from Beacon Hills and when he asked, Rory told him. And when he explained, they called him an idiot for thinking he needed that to be Pack, to be family.
It was the Pack that stitched up the seams of Stiles' soul, who filled him up with more acceptance and love than he knew what to do with. Eventually, he moved out of his Aunt's and into the Pack house, he lived and breathed the Pack. He went to a local university and became everything he wanted to be and sometimes he even managed to forget that there was ever such a place as Beacon Hills.
It felt like Stiles had been born to be a werewolf. He was head Beta within six months. He had no problem with control, no problem with shifting, no problem at all. Everyone loved him. Every Pack they came across either adored him or were afraid of him. Especially after Sam had died, after they'd all had to become stronger and closer.
Stiles carved out his new path with his Pack beside him, matching him step for step and dropping back to help him out whenever he felt like he was falling behind. Stiles became Pack, he became family and that void inside of him was slowly filled up to the brim again. But that didn't mean Stiles forgot. All the new friends he made didn't mean he forgot Scott or Isaac, even if he ignored their calls. All the relationships and flings he had didn't mean he forgot about Derek, didn't mean he stopped loving him for even one stupid second. Stiles didn't forget anything, even to the degree that his past boyfriends and occasionally girlfriends called him emotionally stunted or heartless.
It was his Pack though that knew that he was none of those things, he was just a little bit broken in a way none of them knew how to fix. But he was getting there. He was determined to get there and he thought he almost had done, until made the decision to come back to Beacon Hills. Then Stiles just felt like maybe those stitched up seams were coming undone all over again and this time, Stiles didn't have a clue where to find any thread.