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

Warnings: Language

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

One

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.

For a long time he'd actually distanced himself quite a bit from his young son. He hadn't known how to handle Stiles. The once overly energetic child that had become so entirely downtrodden with everything. He didn't talk quite as much, he'd become closed off from virtually everyone. Seeing your mother die, alone, at such a young age had taken a toll. Then moving so far from the life he'd once known hadn't helped matters. Eventually, though, Noah had gotten his drinking under control, he and Stiles both went to therapy. They bonded again and while life wasn't spectacular in their tiny little town of Ely, it was comfortable.

The two had built a life there: Stiles eventually came out of his shell and even 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. Most people saw him as too much. Too much energy, too much talking, too much movement. Too much. The only constant in it all was Scott, his best friend from kindergarten. They'd hit it off day one and considered themselves brothers, inseparable. Until they'd moved, anyway. Even living so far apart the two never lost contact. In fact, Scott was the only one Stiles had kept in contact with.

Since the move, Stiles had gone back to Beacon Hills exactly eight times in eight years. Three weeks of every summer were spent with his best friend back in his hometown. This always followed the three weeks that Scott spent in Ely. The two often 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. Besides, they all knew Stiles was the one with the penchant for finding trouble. Usually without even trying.

They talked on the phone every few nights which eventually, as technology advanced, 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.

Stiles would spend his senior year of high school in Beacon Hills. He would graduate with his best friend. Almost a dream come true. If not for the whole moving thing. And the whole getting reacquainted thing. Worse was the whole sitting in the U-Haul for hours on end, thing. Stiles never did well with sitting still.

"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, it was a familiar look. One Stiles received from nearly everyone at some point or another. He watched the elder mans gaze dance toward the passenger side mirror, looking back at the old Jeep that sat upon a trailer behind their 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?" It wasn't that Stiles couldn't make the drive. He'd been jumping behind the wheel of every vehicle he could long before he'd even had a license.

"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. He answered just as Noah pulled the U-Haul into a large lot. "Hey, Scotty!" Stiles pointed almost excitedly toward an available space meant for campers.

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. It was just that feeling that made the hairs on his arms stand on end, or sent a shiver up his spine despite the warm summer air. Scott had just extinguished the fire so they could get some sleep when it happened. Something large and black came hurtling from the trees. It would have hit Stiles if Scott hadn't shoved him out of the way. Instead, his best friend had been knocked to the ground and 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 and Scott's boss at the animal clinic. A man named Deaton who gave Stiles the creeps. No one had ever come forward claiming to have bitten Scott. Not that either of them expected someone to. 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. Stiles had tried, on several occasions, to convince his friend that maybe Scott just didn't know what he was looking for. Scott protested that he would have to have seen someone else with glowing eyes and a Beta shift.

"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. 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 was commonplace 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.

"Dude, I know! I wanna see you too. God, you're like an excitable puppy. Just.. don't pee on the carpet when I see you." He teased, grinning. To which he could almost hear Scott roll his eyes in exasperation. It earned a laugh. He was sure Scott got tired of all the puppy references, but serious?! Scott just had a puppy-like face. He could give someone those puppy eyes and get his way. Scott was sunshine personified, too. The kid just had to smile and it made everyone else happy. If anyone ever argued that fact, Stiles might punch them.

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 fell asleep less than an hour after Stiles had taken the wheel leaving him in 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. It was 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 soft blue 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-almost with enough force to knock him off his feet-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. Something Stiles had had to hear about every freaking night for the last four months.

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. Which was 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. The guy was cute in his own puppy sort of way. 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 Stiles' brows 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.

"Why are all of your friends super models, Scotty?" Stiles almost whined as his gaze followed the raven-haired male.

This wasn't a matter of opinion either. Lydia was, as always, stunning. Allison had a smile that could brighten any room she walked into. Jackson, though reeking of entitled superiority, was freaking gorgeous. He knew it too. Danny was lean and toned. And Derek. Stiles quickly turned his attention away before it could become awkward since he was sure that he'd been gawking. He cleared his throat and gave and exaggerated head shake as though wiping the slate of his mind free.

"What, uh, wha-Why does he owe you a favor?" Stiles stammered, his whiskey colored eyes tracked toward the elder teen again and away just as quickly. As always, his hands moved a lot when he talked. A lot. Just one more of those little ADHD quirks that fit right in with his inability to sit still.

Scott also watched Derek, though the question caused his head to shake. "Saved his ass with coach last year. Twice." His shoulders rose and fell in a brief shrug. "Coach was ready to kick him off the team, he was running late all the time or missing practices. He had a lot going on."

"Liiiike?" Stiles prodded while nodding toward the truck.

Everyone else was already pulling boxes out or on their way up to the house with one. Lydia, instead of carrying anything, was in the back of the truck pushing boxes toward everyone else. He should have figured she wasn't going to be much help with heavy lifting. Scott appeared to contemplate his answer while hefting a particularly heavy box labeled 'LR-Books'. When Stiles had picked up a considerably lighter one labeled 'BR' Scott breathed a sigh.

"He's Derek Hale."

Wait. Why was that familiar? Why was that..? His brows had knitted together in the middle before shooting up toward his hairline. "Hale? As in the HALE fire? The fire that killed basically an entire family?"

"Shhh." Astonished, he quickly shook his head again. It didn't matter how long people knew Stiles, somehow they were always surprised when he couldn't manage something so simple as a whisper. Well, most of the time. His voice was lowered when he spoke next."It's still a pretty touchy subject, man."

"No shit.." He murmured. Perfect time to shut his trap, though, because Derek had just exited the house and was making his way toward them. Stiles eyed him, wondering how in the hell he wasn't sweating his ass off in a leather jacket and jeans. Eh, maybe he was one of those people who were always cold. Derek chose not to look at either of them as he strode past. "Wait.. didn't that happen, like, I don't know, 6 years ago?"

Scott's head canted to the side, his expression exasperated. Stiles got the impression that his best friend wanted to bring up his mom. Fair point. Enough said. Instead, the taller boy added, "there were only two other people who survived the fire. His uncle, who left right after, and his older sister, Laura." Scott glanced back toward the truck before he ducked passed Jackson and Danny on their way out of the house. "She died seven months ago."

"Oh." His warm gaze shifted back as well, watching as Derek hauled a box out of the truck with ease. "Wh-what happened?"

"Car accident, just outside of the preserve. Guess she was on her way home and a deer ran out in front of her, she swerved and hit a tree. I heard it was pretty gruesome. Mom was at the hospital when they wheeled her to the morgue."

Something about that didn't sit right in Stile's head. Maybe it was the way Scott had said it, or the way his eyes narrowed. He deposited his box in the bathroom and immediately met back up with him. "Did you..?"

"Investigate? Of course." He scoffed at the obvious question. Both fell silent again as they passed Derek. "It's the preserve.. smells like deer out there, pretty much everywhere. What got me, though, was that she didn't seem like she'd been going fast enough for it to kill her. As in, the car was barely banged up." Scott flashed a smile toward Lydia as the girl continued moving boxes around inside of the truck. After the pair had walked away again he nodded back toward her. "Lydia found her."

"Ouch!" Stiles glanced back at the strawberry blonde, who looked as chipper as he'd ever seen her. Oddly enough, whenever Derek was near her that didn't seem to change. In fact, the guy seemed downright chummy with her.. even if he didn't smile. Stiles could see it in his posture, the way he seemed even relaxed. Sort of. It made him wonder if the two were friends.

Still, Stiles didn't believe Scott. If he'd had the same werewolf-y powers, he'd have been able to listen to the boys heartbeat. As it stood, he just had to rely on his gut instincts. The ones that currently told him that whatever Derek owed the crooked-jawed boy a favor for? It wasn't covering his ass on a few missed lacrosse practices. Something else was going on between the two. Stiles would inevitably find out. Like he always did.

–

Conversation came to a halt as the majority of the heavy lifting really kicked in. The girls took the easier tasks: baskets filled with towels, bags of clothes or bedding, pillows. Meanwhile the rest of them mostly worked together to lift the furniture. The dolly in the truck helped with the large appliances; It did nothing for the rest: the beds, the living room set, the desks, the kitchen table. Why had his father not bothered to sell everything and buy new? Oh, right, because even though they'd been renting out the house for extra income, they still didn't have the money for that.

Needless to say, he ended up bumping shoulders with everyone more often than he cared to admit while power lifting with them. He hated how easy Scott had it, and had had to laugh several times at the boy for 'pretending' that things were heavier than they really were. Stupid werewolf powers. While they were carrying the couch into the house his father, panting, had asked if everyone wanted pizza for their help. Everyone happily agreed.

There was very little to move now, so Stiles told his father to take a break, order their pizza. If only because he wanted to give his old man a break. At his age he probably shouldn't be lifting as much as he had. Much as Stiles would rather his dad eat a salad and a veggie burger, high cholesterol and all, he'd rather the guy not keel over later tonight from having over-done it.

If not for Scott's-and the team of teens who'd come along-help it would have taken Stiles and Noah the better part of the day, and probably time tomorrow, to finish clearing out the truck. The summer sun was just beginning to set on the horizon when they'd taken Noah's recliner into the house. The other teens lounged on the lawn or porch while Stiles went to move his Jeep off of the trailer. He hopped into the Jeep and backed it carefully onto the road, then parked it in their driveway before grabbing what little had been stowed in the front of their U-Haul. Really, it was just a duffle with a change of clothes for each of them, both of their meds and a few bottles of water. He kicked the door back open and dropped back to the ground, freezing when he heard a grunt of pain.

His eyes widened, meeting the gaze-glare?-of Derek Hale. "Oh, god, sorry man!" Stiles realized he'd not only cracked him with the door when it was swung open but stomped on his foot upon hitting the ground. Derek's jaw worked in annoyance, his right hand rubbing at a red spot blossoming on his forehead. "Shit.. you're not, uh, you're not bleeding are you?"

"It's fine." The man's hand quickly swiped at his head to check. It came away clean. Thank god. "You should be more careful." His voice carried a deep rumble, almost a growl.

"Yeah, I-I know, sorry. Was just trying to.. ya know, pay for the pizza?" He held up his wallet, which had been left in the cab while they'd worked. Derek's brows shifted up, green eyes turned toward the batman wallet, then back to Stiles. Why were his eyebrows so expressive?! With the wallet tucked into his pocket, Stiles glanced toward everyone lounging around. Talking and laughing among themselves. "Hey, uh, we didn't really have much of an introduction, ya know? Stiles." He added, holding out a hand.

Derek stared at it for a moment, his arms shifted up to cross over his chest. Okay, rude. "Derek."

"You live around here?"

"Not really." He glanced around the quiet suburban street. Not much of a talker, it seemed. How he and Scott could have become friends was nothing short of amazing. Feeling Stiles' eyes on him Derek turned back with a raised brow. "Nice to meet you, Stiles. Welcome back to Beacon Hills."

"Th-thanks." He stammered but only because the elder teen had started to walk away. The broody looking guy wasn't staying for pizza, it seemed. He regarded the other, watching as Derek climbed into a glossy black Camaro that he hadn't even noticed until now.

"Stiles, will you hurry it up? Pretty sure he has other deliveries." Noah called, drawing Stiles from his reverie. Derek was distracting. Stiles hadn't even realized the pizza man had shown up.

–

After everyone had left Stiles laid on his bedroom floor, staring at the ceiling. He knew he needed to begin the daunting task of searching through his boxes and bags for his sheets. Or even put his bed together. Instead, he drummed his fingers against his stomach and frowned. Something seemed.. off. With Scott. With Derek. Hell, even with Jackson, but he was assuming that the jock-y boy was like every other jock: looking at skinny, nerdy Stiles as though he were something lesser than.

Scott had lied to him. Of that much he was certain. Something more had happened between he and the elder boy. And he was relatively sure that Derek had somehow overheard he and Scott talking about him. Unless he was always that surly with everyone he met. Probable. The more he thought about it, however, the less he thought that the case. Actually. Derek had conversed quite easily with Jackson and Danny. Old teammates or not. And had been friendly enough with Allison and Lydia. Even with the Sheriff.

"Hey.. Stiles. Hey!" Stiles blinked rapidly while lifting his head up from the floor. His dad stood in the doorway. "I'm going to sleep in my chair tonight. You want the couch?"

"Nah, dad. Probably gonna lay right here." A chuckle escaped him as he laid back onto the carpet. Truth be told, his anxiety was at peak level. He was torn between that state of wanting to get his entire room taken care of and wanting to do nothing at all. Which meant he was going to have to choose between taking his Adderall or a hefty dose of melatonin. If he wasn't going to work on unpacking, he should sleep.

"Doubt that'll be comfortable, kid. Couch is open if you want it. I've got to be at the station early, Stiles, don't get into trouble."

"What, are you kidding me? Best behaved teen in the world right here." Stiles replied seriously, staring at his father in mock surprise.

Noah's regarded him in disbelief, then tapped the door frame twice with his palm. Stiles listened to his fathers retreating footsteps and exhaled again. His fingers hadn't once stopped bouncing through the conversation. Which meant if he planned to get any semblance of sleep he'd have to take much more melatonin than was probably advisable. So after deciding that his mind was running too rampant to even make the attempt Stiles hauled himself back up, heaved a sigh, and began setting his bed frame up.

By the time he had his bed in order, with sheets and everything, his desk and laptop set up, and several boxes unpacked it was well after four in the morning. And he actually felt tired. Thankfully.

Stiles toed off his sneakers and flopped face first into his bed. Yanking a pillow close, he buried his face into it. It only took a few moments before his body to enter that state where he felt too heavy to move and his mind fogged over. Just before he drifted out Stiles brows knitted together, feeling as though someone were watching him. It took considerable effort to pry one eye open.

Everything had that blurry haze of sleep surrounding it, but he was pretty sure he saw a pair of glowing blue orbs just outside his window. Before he could investigate further, sleep took him entirely.