(Goes AU from here on out: No Alpha pack = Ms. Blake not Darach, no Cora ;_;, Boyd and Erica left for another Pack)
Okay I love all of you so I should remind you I am a sterek shipper so whatever happens please remember that
A month passes. Stiles, Scott, Allison, Jackson, and Lydia all take and pass their midterms (Scott barely), and then Allison's gone. Left for France with her father (after breaking up with Scott). Jackson leaves for a Pack in London. Stiles barely sees Lydia over summer break, and Scott has the other werewolves to worry about. (Isaac, plus Derek and Peter by extension.)
Stiles doesn't mind. He's been under heavy guard since his dad found out (about everything. Stiles was tired of lying, and Scott was happy to help). Probably thinks werewolves are dangerous. The only thing his dad doesn't know is the whole "soul mate" situation. That's completely Stiles' business. His dad doesn't need to worry about it at all.
Another two weeks pass. Stiles still gets the daily bruise or cut, and doesn't whine about it. It's a waste of breath anyway considering he has no one to whine to. His dad's out for the entire day, Scott has Isaac to train (probably in the Preserve), and Lydia's doing whatever Lydia does when she's not dealing with the supernatural.
Two weeks pass. Stiles does nothing but stare at his scar-riddled hands and bruised hips.
By the middle of summer break, Stiles does a strange motion with his torso, and almost breaks his neck falling down the stairs. Honestly, it would at least give him some entertainment.
One month before school starts again, Stiles goes for a walk. He walks through town, then into Beacon Hills Preserve. Why? He's really not sure until he's in front of the old Hale house.
Charred and yet still magnificent to look at. He lightly traces his fingers over the wooden door, so fragile, and pushes it open. Inside is the same. Stiles can see the blood stain from Kate Argent's death, even so many months later. He shoves his hands inside his jacket pocket, and stares at the roots starting to grow through the wooden floor.
"You're not supposed to be here."
Stiles jumps, and glares at Derek. "Why not? It's not your house anymore. You aren't even supposed to be here." Wow. He realizes what he said when Derek's face falls, just for a second, before he covers it.
"So, what you're saying is," Derek says, arms crossing over his chest, "that neither of us belong here?"
Stiles cocks his head to the left. This conversation just turned on a dime and now he's confused. "Uh, sure."
Pursing his lips, Derek nods. "I see." He looks around the remains of the living room, small, sad smile on his face. Stiles shifts on his feet, unsure what to do or say. He digs his nails into his palm on impulse, and is speechless when Derek absently rubs his palm.
Stiles gulps, heart starting to race when he doesn't want it to. Derek looks up at him, and Stiles is a deer in the headlights. He gulps again, and smiles. "Well, not that this isn't fun and all, but I'm just gunna..." He starts edging towards the door, and starts to walk outside when Derek makes no move to stop him.
"Motherfu-" He jumps again as Peter appears in the doorway, smug smile on his face.
"Stiles. Nice to see you again." Peter takes a step into the house, and Stiles maneuvers himself so he doesn't touch him as he walks out.
Stiles doesn't say anything back. He hears Peter laugh, but by the time either of the werewolves start talking, Stiles is back in the woods. He wishes for headphones. Nature isn't anything interesting.
A few days before school starts, Scott decides he wants a tattoo. Stiles joins him, faints, and is simultaneously grossed out and finds it hilarious that Scott's tattoo disappeared. Scott doesn't think it's so funny.
The night before school starts, Stiles and Scott go out, and they see Lydia and Allison. Scott stares at her, and Stiles watches with half-glee, half-mortification on Scott's behalf. Allison finally notices who's next to their car, and Scott immediately demands Stiles drive through the red light.
Instead, he rolls down the window. "Hey ladies!" He calls out.
Lydia speeds off so fast he can hear the tires squeal from inside his own car.
Scott puts his head in his hands, and sighs. Stiles sighs with him, and puts a hand on his shoulder, not saying anything. He knows.
The Sheriff texts him when he's in class that the new deputy is going to have dinner with them tonight. Stiles types out a quick got it and resumes ignoring the lesson.
The new teacher, Ms. Blake, is actually alright. But Stiles guesses not being (or having) evil usually leads to good things. At least the school isn't being overrun by Argents anymore. The security cameras were taken down, and the new principal is far better than the last. Although, considering the last principal was Gerard, a piece of toast would have done a better job.
They go to Derek after school, figuring since he had a tattoo that he would help Scott. When he pulls out a flamethrower, Stiles suddenly feels faint.
"Oh, flame- flamethrower. Always a good choice. You know, four out of five werewolves recommend this as the number one way to get a tattoo." Stiles is blabbering, but he can't seem to stop.
Derek turns to him. "It works." He looks at Scott. "It does."
Scott draws what he wants, and when it finally comes down to it, Derek yells at Stiles to help hold him down, even though Stiles was perfectly comfortable on the other side of the room. He does as he's told, and Scott ends up passing out.
Derek finishes the tattoo, and shuts off the flamethrower.
"How long will he be out?" Stiles asks, glancing at his watch.
Derek shrugs. "Maybe a few minutes. Why?"
Stiles looks at his watch again. "My dad invited the new deputy over for dinner. Which starts in exactly ten minutes." Stiles chuckles with no enthusiasm.
"Oh," Derek says, frowning. "If you want, you can go. I can drive Scott home."
Then Stiles gets a weird itchy feeling on his side. He scratches at it, but it doesn't stop. It moves, goes up his side and into his chest. Then keeps going until it's at the base of his throat. He doesn't like it, and, more importantly, doesn't want to go home.
Tears start to prick at his eyes. Stiles gasps, and falls to the ground, fingers gripping the floor. He's crying (pretty heavily) and it came from out of nowhere.
"What happened? What did you do?" Stiles hears Scott say, though too distantly. Scott sounds too far away. Scott's supposed to be here, in this room, healing. Where is he?
Stiles doesn't realize that he's been saying all this out loud, and Scott kneels down and taps Stiles' fingers. "Stiles? I'm right here. What's wrong? Are you okay? Stiles?"
Stiles' eyes clamp shut, but open when Scott places a hand on the back of his neck. It stops the itching, stops the tears, even returns his heartbeat to normal.
"Scott?" Stiles whispers.
"Yeah. I'm right here. Stiles," Scott whispers back, and Stiles is exhausted. He leans against Scott, who catches him easily. "You okay?"
Stiles nods, then yawns. "I don't know what happened."
"It's fine. You're fine," Scott reassures, then lifts Stiles up to his feet. "Let's get you home."
Stiles nods, then promptly passes out.
He could've sworn he smelled pancakes and bacon (the fatty kind that creates a lot of grease). But apparently, Stiles is alone in his house, and going to be late for school if he doesn't get his ass in motion pronto. He's just glad Scott bought that dirt bike he'd been pining for.
As he's heading out the door, he spies a piece of paper he didn't notice before. He grabs it, reading it as he walks to the Jeep.
"Stiles, Scott told me about last night. Hope you feel better. -Dad."
He's going to have to talk to Scott to get his cover story. When he gets to school, Scott's bike is there, but no sign of him yet. Stiles shakes it off, and finds Lydia, standing at her locker.
"Hey, Lydia. How was your break?"
Lydia slams her locker shut, and smiles. "It was great."
Stiles waits for her to keep going, but she's looking over his shoulder, and playing with a section of her hair. He glances back, and sighs. "What the hell?"
A group of freshmen boys are by their lockers, and Lydia looks like she's going to eat them. Hell, if some of the go missing, Stiles will know where to look.
"Leaving now," Stiles says as he walks in the opposite direction of Lydia. He passes Allison as he walks to his homeroom, smiling and waving at her. She smiles back, and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.
Scott runs into homeroom two minutes late, and is scolded by the teacher. Stiles is about to ask where he'd been when the bell cut him off. When he goes to ask again, Scott is gone.
Stiles really shouldn't be surprised.
"How're you feeling?" His dad asks as soon as he steps into the house.
"Fine. Just didn't get enough water in me." Scott had told Stiles' dad he fainted from dehydration and needed water and rest. Stiles doesn't know why, but he doesn't bother questioning it. "Sorry about ruining dinner last night."
His dad waves a hand. "No worries. It was just a 'get-to-know-you' type of thing. New deputy and all."
"Who is it?" Stiles asks as he grabs an apple, biting into it.
"His name's Parrish. Uh, Jeremy Parrish. You okay?"
When Sheriff said "Parrish", Stiles stopped breathing. Then the full name sent Stiles into a coughing fit. He grabs the kitchen counter for support.
"Stiles? Do you need water?" But his dad grabs a glass and fills it before Stiles says anything, shoving it in his hands. "Drink."
Stiles doesn't feel any better now then he did five seconds ago. "I need to-" Stiles stumbles a bit as he tries to get upstairs. "Bed."
His dad helps him, and leaves with the promise of bringing dinner up to him at six, three hours from now. With three deep breaths, Stiles sits up, and then heaves himself off the bed. His limbs feel heavy and sluggish, but he shrugs off his school clothes, puts on pajamas, throws open the window, and lets the air wash over him. He pulls his seat over, and sits there, relaxing against the open window.
Too much sleeping, he realizes as he jolts awake with a hand on his shoulder. And then he feels a full body chill overcome him. He rubs at his shoulders.
"Stiles?"
"Derek? Why are you in my room?" Then Stiles looks around. "Why am I not in my room?" He's in the Preserve. "Why am I standing in front of your old house? What the hell just happened?"
Derek glares at him. "You're the one who just wandered out here."
"Wait," Stiles says, "why are you out here?"
Derek holds his gaze for as long as he can, but it drops. "Not important."
"Clearly it's important enough to come all the way out here in freezing weather instead of holing up in your apartment."
Derek doesn't waver, looking Stiles straight in the eye. "Go home, Stiles. You're going to catch a cold."
Stiles toes the ground, and that's when the wind picks up and almost lifts him off his feet. "Woah." Stiles shakes, and then coughs. His side prickles with a phantom pain, and he taps his fingers against his leg. "Can you give me a ride home by any chance?"
"I ran here." Derek would do that. Stiles groans, his stomach flipping over. "Are you okay?"
"Fine," he says, but he's most definitely not. His entire body is cold and in pain. He's tired, his dad probably has SWAT looking for him because his window's open and he's supposed to be in bed, and this Parrish guy might be his "soul mate."
"Derek?" Stiles asks, jaw hurting from grinding his teeth too hard. "I- Can you help me?"
Derek looks wary. "With what?"
Stiles grins around the pain. His mouth tastes coppery, but there's no blood in his mouth. "I have to find my 'soul mate'."