Disclaimer: Do not own Teen Wolf or any associated characters. Only what happens in my head.

Warnings: Language

A/N: First foray into a Teen Wolf fic. Sterek endgame, if that doesn't interest you feel free to turn back now.

AU: Loosely based upon the show, revolving around same characters and possibly similar circumstances

Turning Points

Moving out of Beacon Hills had been a huge turning point in his life. Of course, the first being his mothers death. More specifically, watching his mother fade to nothing before his very eyes. When his mother had died, Noah Stilinski had started drinking. Way, way too much. Almost put himself out of a job when he'd gotten into a wreck. In a cruiser. To save face, and get his drinking under control, the Sheriff had moved them to Ely, Nevada. Population three thousand seven hundred. Anything to get away from the memory of Claudia and all that had happened.

They'd actually built a life there. Stiles had eventually made friends. Not many, but there were a few people he'd gotten close to. Or as close as he ever really did with much of anyone. Stiles was never good at making friends. The only constant in it all was Scott. Even living so far apart the two never lost contact. In fact, Scott was the only one Stiles had kept in contact with when he'd moved. Probably aided by the fact that the two had become inseparable from kindergarten. Until they'd moved, anyway.

Since they'd moved, Stiles had gone back to Beacon Hills exactly eight times in eight years. Three weeks of every summer were spent with his best friend, Scott. This always followed the three weeks that Scott spent in Ely. The two always managed to find themselves in some sort of trouble; neither Noah nor Melissa, Scott's mom, could cut the boys off from one another, though. Whether because they didn't have the heart to attempt separating the two, or because they knew it wouldn't work.

They talked on the phone every few nights which eventually, as technology allowed, graduated to the two video chatting more often. Stiles had needed that consistency, though. Between the grief, and trying to focus on his dad's health, and the sudden upheaval of his life after his mothers death, and literally everything else. Perhaps that was why Noah had indulged his sons refusal to let go of that friendship. It could also have something to do with why the man had agreed so readily to uproot them again to move back.

"Dad, Beacon Hills has survived this long without you.. why now?" He had asked on the drive. The very, very long drive. Stiles already knew the answer, of course he did, he just wanted to hear his father say it.

Noah exhaled a sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. He'd been dodging the questions since telling the teen they were moving. Now that the two were trapped in a U-Haul for the duration of the drive, and had exhausted most other forms of chatter, Stiles had asked again. He should have expected the sudden exhaustion that played over his fathers features. Stiles watched the elder mans gaze dance toward the passenger side mirror, looking back at the old Jeep sat upon a trailer behind the box truck.

"Dad?" Stiles asked again, his fingers tapping an unknown rhythm on his thighs. Fidgeting. It was to be expected, really. Three hours into an eight and a half hour drive.

"You want to drive, Stiles?" Deflecting. Again.

Effective, nonetheless. Stiles' eyes widened significantly, his hands stilled. "You-you want me to drive? The rest of the way?"

"We can trade off at the next rest stop.. I don't see why not. If you think you can handle this truck."

"You know, what never made sense to me?" Stiles asked. To which Noah quirked a brow, anticipating another of the hyperactive teens rants. "You have to have a special license to drive a semi but not a U-Haul, which is essentially the same size. Wait.. is it even legal for me to drive this thing?"

"The difference is weight, Stiles. You need a CDL if you're hauling over a certain weight limit, and moving trucks rarely ever meet that limit."

"Even with Roscoe?"

Noah glanced back at the Jeep again, then made a face. "We might be pushing it.. a little. Legally, you're licensed to drive."

"In Nevada." Stiles interrupted.

"We're still in Nevada." Noah rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Do you want to drive or not?"

"Is that even a question? Of course, I want to drive!" He grinned broadly, practically bouncing in his seat. That excitement only grew as they passed a large blue sign stating that the next rest stop was only a mile ahead. They'd just hit the exit when his phone began chirping in his pocket. After he'd yanked it out his grin only spread as the name Scott McCall flashed across his screen. "Hey, Scotty!"

Under the pretense of having to use the bathroom and wanting a soda, Stiles walked toward the large brick and glass building after he'd climbed out. He needed a few moments conversation alone with his friend. A glance back at his father saw the man rubbing tiredly at his face. There was so much his father DIDN'T know. Things Stiles hated hiding from him. Like how his best friend was a werewolf.

Scott had been bitten two nights before the full moon last July while Stiles had been visiting. They'd gone out to the preserve for a camping trip the same night Stiles had arrived, just the two of them. Stiles had been feeling paranoid throughout the night, as if eyes were on them. Eyes neither could see. Scott had extinguished the fire so they could get some sleep when it happened. Something large and black had come hurtling from the trees. It would have hit Stiles if Scott hadn't shoved him out of the way. Instead, the other boy was bitten.

Stiles had figured it out the morning of the full moon after Scott's wound was miraculously healed overnight. All the next day Scott had been complaining about how loud everything was, how bright, how everything smelled. It took much more than Stiles would have liked to convince his best friend of what was going on. Which nearly resulted in Scott mauling him. To death.

Over the last year, though, Scott had gained a surprising amount of control over it all. With only Stiles to help him from afar. No one had ever come forward claiming to have bitten Scott. The next two full moons that Stiles was in Ely Scott chained himself up in the basement of his own house- having convinced his mother to take a night shift so that she would be out of harms way. Stiles had stayed on a video chat with his best friend all night long to talk him through it. He still found it unsettling that no other wolves had been found in Beacon Hills. Even with Scott continuously searching for one.

"Buddy, calm down! I know, alright, we should be pulling into town around 3. We got a pretty early start."

He'd woken early and had pestered his father about the trip. Hence why Noah was so exhausted now. They'd finished packing the truck late the night before and after only four hours sleep Stiles had been ready to hit the road again. The sheriff.. not so much. See, the thing was, Stiles knew why his father had wanted to move back. Or. Had been called back. In the last five months there had been an alarming rise in crime and the city council wanted him back. Sheriff Stilinski had always done a damn fine job. He'd just wanted his father to talk to him. Tell him. Especially since Scott already had.

Which, really, Stiles couldn't fault the man for keeping some secrets. Having his own and all. He assumed that his dad just didn't want him to worry. Or to go snooping into police affairs. As Stiles was wont to do. Moving from Ely, population three thousand seven hundred with the biggest crime being a shoplifter or two, back to Beacon Hills where murders, muggings, robberies and the like were a little more prevalent. Maybe he was worried Stiles would freak out, or dig his nose in where it didn't belong.

Seriously, though.. what else had Noah expected from him? Stiles had been bored. Throw it in all caps and it made even more sense. Boredom and ADHD didn't go well together. So, it had never been uncommon to find the boy holed up in his room researching mysteries or cases from other towns. Honestly, the Sheriff was never sure if he should be proud of his son-because he was clearly on his way toward a career as a detective-or disturbed by how unbothered Stiles could be by some of the cases.

A hand combed back through his dark hair, spiking it up a bit more in the front, as he moved toward the moving truck. Noah had already shifted over into the passenger seat. After a quick goodbye to his friend, he hauled himself up behind the steering wheel. "Ready, dad?"

"Just.. don't wreck, alright?"

Stiles chuckled to himself, checked the GPS on the monitor his father had attached to the dash and kicked it into gear.

–

Noah had fallen asleep less than an hour after Stiles had taken the wheel leaving him in a bit of a lull of boredom. At least he had something to do that kept his focus. What with constantly keeping his eyes on the road; between darting toward the mirrors and GPS, that is. Every so often he'd drum out the beat to a song only he heard-the radio in the U-Haul didn't work-onto the steering wheel to entertain himself. Something that had woken his father just after they'd crossed the border into Beacon Hills. Stiles knew he'd come around by the sudden intake of breath. It sounded irritated even before Noah spoke.

"Is that.. Bad Company?"

"The new version, yeah."

Noah rolled his eyes, then rubbed a hand over his face while saying, "they aren't that different, Stiles."

"Sure they are. My version is much more scream-y." From the corner of his eye he watched his father shake his head. A quiet laugh escaped him as he took the last turn onto the very familiar street. He glanced toward the neon orange numbers on the dash that indicated the time after pulling the U-Haul to a stop in front of the old house. 2:43pm. Stiles stared at the two-story structure; the green siding and white trim the same as it had been when he was a child. After a moment he turned off the truck and chewed on the skin around his thumb without taking his eyes off of it. "Are you sure you want to move back in here, dad?"

Noah looked between the house and Stiles. He was quiet for what felt like an eternity. It was with a sigh that he answered. "It didn't feel right to come back to Beacon Hills without coming home."

Pulling his hand away, he turned his attention back onto his father. "Are you going to be okay being here again."

"Stiles.." Whatever dismissive thing he was going to say was quickly cut off.

"No. Dad, look.. I don't-I don't want you to go back to the way you were after. If that means we live somewhere else, fine." Clearly concerned his father would start drinking again. Not something he wanted. No one did.

A tentative smile formed before he reached out to lay his hand against Stiles shoulder. "I'm glad you're concerned, but I've got it under control. I promise."

He studied the elder male's warm brown eyes, then nodded. If his father showed even the smallest sign of falling off the wagon he'd move them out of the house himself. After they'd left Noah had rented the house out because he hadn't been able to part with it entirely. Besides, it was extra income. Several tenants over the years had offered to buy the house but there was always something holding him back. It had taken years for Noah to understand what it was. He'd wanted Stiles to have it when he was old enough. Just like the Jeep. Something that had been Claudia's.

The latest tenant had moved out almost three months before and Noah had been in the process of looking for a new one when he'd been called back to Beacon Hills. Almost perfect timing really. Stiles peered at the house once more before a knock came on the drivers side door; Which startled him so severely that he not only yelped-loudly-but leaped toward the passenger seat and nearly into his fathers lap.

"Scott.. God- Why?! Why would you do that?" He asked when his best friend opened the door and grinned at him. Stiles knew the boy had heard the cry, along with his now pounding heart. "I swear, dude.. I swear."

Scott laughed as Stiles clambered out of the truck and quickly wrapped him in a hug that was near crushing. "I'm glad you're back."

"Me too." Best friend, hell. Scott was his brother. Had been since they were kids.

His friend had offered to help them unpack the U-Haul and Sheriff Stilinski was keen on having an extra pair of hands. After clapping Stiles on the back Scott stepped away and nodded toward the back of the truck. Where a group of other teens stood around a brand new Toyota pick-up. "I brought a few friends to help."

"Lydia? Lydia Martin?" He asked, a grin spreading. Strawberry blonde, fair skinned, green eyed, Lydia. Martin. Stiles had had a bit of a crush on her in grade school. She stood, stunning as ever, in a pair of tight faded blue jeans and a floral top that clung to her curves. He almost would have thought those old feelings rekindled. If not for the guy she was nestled against. Tall, broad shouldered, hunky.

Lydia grinned and pushed away from the jock. The hug she gave Stiles was brief. He'd seen her a handful of times during his visits to Beacon Hills and he considered them somewhere between acquaintances and friends. "It's been a while, Stiles. You're not only staying a couple weeks, right? Because I am not ruining my manicure moving things for you to just move it right back out."

A laugh escaped him, shaking his head. "No, we're staying." The answer seemed to sate her as she gave a little 'hm!' and turned her attention toward the Sheriff, who was unlocking the back of their truck.

"Stiles, this is Allison," he motioned toward a pretty brunette. Stiles would have recognized her even without the introduction. Scott had been mooning over the girl for the last four months. Not a werewolf pun, either. She'd shown up in Beacon Hills four months ago, shortly before the end of their junior year, and the two had hit it off almost immediately.

Stiles waved at the girl, though Scott was already moving on. "That's Jackson." The muscle-y jock. Who was currently eyeing Stiles as though he saw something strange. Probably just Stiles himself. "That's Danny. Their both on the lacrosse team with me." He'd barely noticed the taller male beside Jackson. Danny looked as though he either spent a lot of time in the sun, or came from the Pacific Islands. He was betting on the latter. Stiles nodded quickly toward both of them.

"And that's Derek." And that's Derek. Said so casually. Stiles looked the other male over quickly. Tall, broad.. there was no way in hell this guy was in high school. Catching sight of Stile's brow raising Scott chuckled. "Derek just graduated. He's only here because he owes me a favor."

"We're even after this." Stiles nearly jumped again at the gruff voice from the bearded male. Why he'd expected something softer, he didn't know. With only a quick glance toward him, Derek had moved passed he and Scott to help Noah.