Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s been an entire month. 

30 days, 4 weeks, 720 hours, an entire month. 

Since the last time, Scott texted him. 

He’s not surprised that he never sent a text, having ADHD his time perception is horrendous. And even before the werewolves he could go days without sending a text, either caught up in some project or game leaving the outside world to move on while he just goes about his days in a foggy haze. 

But Scott was always there to reel him back in. Scott understood that there were periods when Stiles’s mind would drift somewhere else, and he would always be there when that happened. Either going to Stiles’s house and asking to hang out if he didn’t hear from Stiles for a few days, or even being extra glued to him during school and sending out several texts reminding Stiles of homework or projects that needed to get done. 

He always apologized to Scott whenever this happened. Feeling immense guilt that he couldn’t keep track of himself sometimes, that Scott always had to hold his hand during those periods just because Stiles’s brain was too messed up to keep track of simple tasks. 

Scott would always wave him off though with his bright smile, and eyes crinkled in mirth saying that this is what best friends do, this is what brothers do . Looking after each other, it was basic kindness and there was no skin off of his back. 

Now as Stiles sits on his bed staring blankly at his cell phone he racks his brain for the last time he even talked to Scott. Remember they had a brief interaction after school one day but that was weeks ago. And it was Scott telling Stiles that he needed to cancel their weekly game night because he promised to help Allison with her homework. 

It's been weeks, and an entire month since he last interacted with his best friend, and Stiles doesn't know how to deal with that fact. 

He tried to think logically, it was close to the end of their senior year. Final exams were around the corner and Scott was probably just busy with studying, but he knows that was bullshit. Scott never takes time to study. His grades even before getting bit were low and it was usually Stiles’s that dragged him to the library to get him to memorize some of the material. 

But he refuses to think that Scott would intentionally not text him, he… just can’t. He was Stiles’s best friend, his brother . Scott was too good, too kind, to do something he knew would hurt Stiles's feelings.

So he didn’t dwell too long on that train of thought, he refused to dwell on it . So he quickly texted him asking if he wanted to get together Saturday for a movie night and get fat off of snack foods and sugary drinks just like they used to. 

After sending off the text, he turned to his computer and loaded up his homework. Finishing at least two pages of his essay he picked up his phone again to check if Scott had replied. 

Nothing.  

“That’s fine,” Stiles thought, turning off his cell phone quickly and placing it back next to him, “ It's kinda late and school is tomorrow so he probably is asleep.” 

‘Bullshit ’ whispered back a voice in the back of his head. 

Stiles breathed roughly through his nose, exhaling slowly, and turned back to his essay. The moments passed as he typed on his computer he couldn’t help but keep glancing at his phone. Hoping to see it light up with a text from Scott. But it never came. 

Hours went by, it was late now and Stiles finished the essay and the rest of his math homework, as the time passed with no text from Scott, Stiles began to panic.

Stiles tried to calm his breathing, tried to re-organize his thoughts but he couldn’t help but think that something happened to Scott. Did he get killed by the newest monster that wandered into town, shot by hunters, or even worse kidnapped and tortured. 

He knows he is being ridiculous. But that’s what his mind does, jumps to the worst possible scenario, which isn’t too ridiculous since… you know… all of those things are possible considering Scott’s current affliction. 

So Stiles did the next best course of action and called Scott’s phone. He waited as the call rang out leading to voicemail and tried again. He called three times, before saying fuck it, grabbing his keys and wallet and making his way out the door. His dad is working the late shift again so he isn’t too worried about telling him where he is going. Besides he doesn’t remember the last time he talked to his dad either, but he doesn’t linger on that thought and speed-walks down the street to the McCall household. It was late, but Stiles didn’t care as he climbed up the tree outside Scott’s window and peered inside looking for any sign of his friend. 

And to his relief, Scott is there… but he isn’t alone. 

------------------------------------------

When Stiles was young he would often be by himself, his parents were always working, busting their asses to provide for their spastic son, making sure they had food on the table and a roof over their heads. But that often left Stiles alone, and he was fine with that. He would find ways to preoccupy himself but that didn’t mean it didn’t get lonely. The people at school didn’t want him around, stating he was too weird to hang out with, so he went about his school days making a fool of himself, being as loud as possible just to get some attention. Someone to just talk to, to hang out with, and he eventually got his wish when Scott moved to Beacon Hills. 

Stiles could still remember that day, a shy boy who wheezed in P.E. class, excluded from recess activities due to his aliment, sitting alone on the schoolyard swings after he was rejected from playing a game of kickball. Stiles couldn’t stand to see the sight of sad, brown eyes filling up with tears so much like himself, lonely, rejected, an outcast. So, he marched right up to that swing and declared them friends. The smile that appeared on that tear, stained face was one that Stiles would never forget, and ever since then, it was Scott and Stiles against the world, the outcasts that had each other through thick and thin. Brothers through fate, not blood. 

Then Scott got bit, werewolves became real, and everything was turned upside down, and now Scott was sitting in his room surrounded by the pack. The pack that Stiles himself was starting to consider his close friends. But there they all were sitting in front of Scott’s television sharing food and laughing at a movie Stiles and Scott were supposed to watch at their next movie night.

And no one invited him. 

How long have these little hangouts been happening? How many times have they excluded Stiles from what looks like a regular occurrence?

“ They didn’t want you there ,” the voice in the back of his head whispered, “ You weren’t invited because no one ever wants you.”

Stiles clenched his eyes together and bit his lip sharply to try and calm his racing heart. Why couldn’t they hear his heartbeat? Did they but they didn’t want to address him? 

He looked back into the window and took in the view in front of him. Scott and Allison were lounging on Scott’s bed, cuddled close with Issac sitting on the floor in front of the bed. Erica and Boyd were lying down in front of the television snuggled up together while Lydia and Jackson took a spot next to Issac, Lydia in Jackson’s lap curled under a blanket Stiles knew Scott stole from his house. They all looked so comfortable like they knew the space and the people, all of them smiling and laughing when someone made a joke about the film they were watching. 

His heart gave a painful lurch at the domestic scene in front of him, and tears stung at his eyes. He scrambled his way down the tree quickly, scraping his hands along the rough branches but paying no mind to them as he jumped from the last few feet, crouching down towards the ground and quickly wiping away the tears that started to build up in his eyes. Taking a few deep breaths he stumbled his way back to his house, barely registering the walk up the stairs, and curled on top of his sheets, not even bothering to remove his shoes. 

He tries to calm himself but finds it harder and harder the more he thinks about the scene he just witnessed. 

No calls. 

No texts. 

He hasn’t talked to Scott in a month. Hasn’t even interacted with anyone in the pack for over a month, maybe even longer. 

And they don’t seem to notice him missing from the picture. 

His heart ached fiercely and he grabbed at the front of his shirt in an attempt to ease the pain. 

“ Calm down,” he said out loud “It could just be a coincidence, Scott wouldn’t do this, he wouldn’t leave you.”

But he didn’t even believe that himself.

Chapter Text

Rest that night didn’t come easy. And waking up was even harder. 

Thoughts were still swirling through his head as he got dressed and ready for school. But he decided as he popped some toast into the toaster, that he would give Scott the benefit of the doubt. This was a one-off thing and he just didn’t want to disturb Stiles when it was clear Stiles was very busy getting ready for the end-of-the-year exams and graduation. 

‘Stop lying to yourself’ whispered a voice

He shook his head off that thought grabbed his keys and wrote a quick note to his father who was sleeping upstairs that coffee was ready in the pot that he hoped he had a good day at work and that Stiles plans on staying at the library late that night to study for his English exam. 

The ride to school was plagued with anxiety. Stiles didn’t couldn’t help but think back to the night before. 

It must have been just a coincidence, nothing more. Scott knew that Stiles had been busy preparing for the end of the year because mainly Stiles was. That was mostly the reason why Stiles barely noticed Scott wasn’t talking to him, he was either in his room or at the school library studying until his eyes were bloodshot and watery. He hasn’t been doing all that great in class as of late due to his furry friends, and he didn’t want to disappoint his dad even more. 

He pauses at the word ‘friend.’ He considered the entire pack his friends due to all the shit they went through together, the Kanima, Gerard, the Alpha Pack, the Dark Druid, Peter… Derek. 

The thought of the alpha made him smile sadly. They’ve gotten closer after each monster of the week. Hanging out in Derek’s barely furnished loft and pouring over text after text of the newest threat. He became a confidant to Stiles when Scott wasn’t there to listen to him. 

Derek was surprisingly witty, making Stiles cackle with his dry humor. His smile made Stiles's heart flutter during those late evening hours, both of them delirious from lack of sleep making the normally stoic wolf uncharacteristically giggly and playful. A massive turnaround from the grumpy, snarly wolf he met in the woods. 

But with threat after threat, he could tell Derek was becoming worn down. The pack never took to him as an alpha no matter how hard Derek tried, and with Scott becoming the ‘True Alpha’ of Beacon Hills Derek became more withdrawn, only seen if sought out by Stiles under the guise of needing information of a new monster. When it was to check in on him. Until one day he found the loft empty with no sign of Derek or his creepy uncle. He asked Issac about where he went but was met with a shrug. The beta hadn’t lived with Derek for months at that point, moving into Scott’s house at the first chance he got. 

He tried calling the number Derek used, but the calls were never picked up. He still texted Derek randomly, asking him how he was, where he was, or to update him on what was happening. He explained in one text to him that he doesn’t blame Derek for leaving so suddenly. If he had a choice he would’ve packed his bags and headed out without a single glance back. But he would never do that to his dad, never do that to Scott. They and now the pack were the only people who kept him tied to this town, but now he wasn’t too sure he would be given the same sentiment. He has no doubts about where his relationship with his dad stands. They were tense at the moment but their bond was as strong as ever, the pack, however…

Stiles finally made it into the parking lot at school and pulled into his usual spot. Turning off the ignition he glances around and spots the pack surrounding the front steps. They look so unbothered, relaxed just like they were last night, and as Stiles steps out of his vehicle he couldn’t help but notice Scott turn his nose up in the air, seemingly sniffing something before giving a slight gesture to the rest of the pack to head inside. 

Stiles tells himself it was just another coincidence.

—--------------------------------

It was not a coincidence. 

In the days following that night, he couldn’t help but keep note of their behavior towards him. 

Whenever Stiles walked towards them they always turned the other way, in class no one bothered to sit next to him opting to sit with each other in the back of the class, and at lunch, they weren’t ever at their usual table. Something that Stiles didn’t even know they changed since he took lunch periods in the library, but eventually found them occupying an empty classroom one that Stiles didn’t even know they had access to. After school ended they weren’t anywhere to be seen, gone before Stiles even stepped out the doors. This behavior goes on for an entire week before Stiles finally has to face the truth, they were doing it on purpose. 

He was home again after another failed day of trying to interact with the pack, stirring a pot of spaghetti sauce when he finally dawned on that conclusion. He can’t help the way his heart sinks and he turns off the heat to the stove so he can focus on his impending breakdown without worrying about burnt pasta sauce. He grabs tightly onto the corner of the counter, breathing shakily as his brain goes over every failed interaction he has had with the pack, every failed interaction with Scott. 

Scott wouldn’t even look in his direction this past week, usually, he was the one to direct the pack away from Stiles whenever Stiles walked towards them. But Scott wouldn’t leave him, right? 

‘ Pathetic’ the voice whispered ‘ Your denial is pathetic’

He eventually got his breathing under control and wiped away the water that gathered in his eyes. Finishing up the rest of supper he placed the hot pot of spaghetti onto the trivet just as his dad opened up the front door. 

“Wow, spaghetti! What’s the special occasion?” 

“Just thought we haven’t had a family dinner in a while, so I thought spaghetti was easy enough to whip up!”

His dad smiles and places his coat over the coach and his gun belt on the coffee table and makes his way eagerly towards his spot at the table, sitting down in it and not hesitating to start filling his plate with a mountain of noodles. 

Stiles followed suit and they talked about their day and his dad complained about Mrs. Becker again as she called five times to the non-emergency hotline about nonsense. 

“I swear it's once a week she calls about her neighbor's dog like I could do anything about it! It's a dog! It's going to bark and make noise.” 

Stiles laughed “I honestly can’t believe she is capable of hearing it, the other week at the grocery store she barely gave me a glance when I said hi!” 

“She just has selective hearing I guess,” mumbled the sheriff taking a stab at his plate. 

“So” he started “how has Scott and your misfit gang been doing? They haven’t been around in a while.”  

Stiles choked at his dad’s question, suddenly losing interest in his plate of pasta. 

“Oh, you know - they've been busy studying for exams. Haven’t had much free time.” 

The sheriff nodded slowly “Well they seem to find the time to hang out at the local diner.”

Stiles froze. Another piece of this wicked puzzle landed in Stile’s grip and he chose to ignore its place within the picture. 

He tries to reflect this conversation in a different direction “What are you doing at the diner? Have you been eating burgers behind my back again?” Nervously twisting his fork around in his spaghetti to pretend that he is still interested in eating it. 

His dad just gives him an exasperated look telling him that it didn’t work before continuing his line of questioning “Stiles, is everything  fine between you and the group?” His dad sets down his fork, bringing his full attention to his son, looking at him expectantly like he knows that the pack has been leaving him out, and maybe he does, he’s not the Sheriff for nothing. 

Stiles stops twisting his spaghetti, completely losing his appetite. “They’ve been. busy. I’ve been busy, there is nothing to worry about.” 

Even though it's only half of the truth he still hates lying to his father. Their relationship has already suffered enough due to his dishonesty in the past and they finally repaired their relationship enough that his dad isn’t questioning every word that comes out of his mouth. He hopes that trust doesn’t falter at this moment. 

His dad looks at him with narrow eyes, patently detecting the lie, but decides not to push. 

“If you’re sure kiddo, I know the senior year has been a tough one, especially considering…everything that’s happened.” 

Yeah, he knows that a ton of shit has happened. Stiles still wakes up in a cold sweat sometimes due to nightmares.

“I’m fine Dad,” Stiles gave him his most convincing smile. But it turns into more of a grimace.

His dad stared at him with worried eyes, but he dropped the line of questioning anyway. 

They finish their food in respective silence or try to. Stiles could only get a few more bites in before nausea settled in his stomach. Which is a bummer - he likes spaghetti. Once they are done Stiles starts clearing the table when his dad stands up and pulls him into a bone-crushing hug. 

“I know that you're not telling me what is going on, and I wanted to let you know that I’m proud of you and how much you’ve grown.” He pulled back and looked Stiles in the eyes, which was starting to fill up with tears as his father spoke. “And you don’t have to tell me, but I’m always here to talk and listen.” 

Stiles bit his lip and hugged his dad again even harder. It's a rare occurrence for his dad to show such affection, not that the sheriff was cold towards Stiles, he was an affectionate person but preferred a pat on the back and words versus a hug like this. Both of them are like that, except they each seem to know when the other needs a good hug, and damn did Stiles need one. 

They separated and worked together to finish clearing the table. They stayed up a little longer that night watching whatever sport was on the TV before the Sheriff went to bed since he had an early morning shift. 

Stiles felt a little lighter that night, it had been a long time since he had one-on-one time with his dad and it was a nice evening. But as he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling he knew that he couldn’t go on without knowing why the pack was avoiding him. This game that they are playing has gone on for long enough, and so Stiles went to bed that night formulating a plan to confront Scott before the end of the day Monday.

Chapter Text

Turned out it was a lot easier to back Scott into a corner. 

He simply had to hack into Coach Finstock’s email which was easy as Stiles had done it before and he still hasn’t changed his password (which isn’t too surprising when Stile thinks about it).  One quick email asking to talk to Scott had him running down the lacrosse field at the end of school towards Stiles who was perched on the bleachers waiting for him. Scott slowed down as he got closer, obviously confused as to why Stiles was there and not the coach. 

“Oh hey man!” Scott says nonchalantly like he hadn't just ignored Stiles for a literal month. 

“Hey, man.” Stiles seethed through his teeth. He could feel his rage boiling slowly, having Scott in front of him with his relaxed attitude broke something in Stiles that was kept restrained until this moment. 

Scott slowly looked around confused “So… are you also here to talk to Coach? I thought you didn’t play lacrosse anymore.” 

Stiles hasn’t played since their Junior year when all the werewolf stuff was happening especially after… Gerard, his lust for the sport died pretty quickly. 

Stiles tenderly rubbed his arms in memory, he could still feel the hollow ache from unforgiving punches and kicks. 

“Yeah, I don’t anymore - I wanted to talk to you.” 

“Ah man can it wait? Like Coach is going to be here any minute -”

“Jesus Scott,” Stiles forgot how dumb his friend ( are they even friends anymore?) could be, “I sent that email! It was the only way for you to come and talk to me, god knows you would’ve ignored my texts!” 

Scott stepped back in surprise at Stiles’s sharp words, now realizing that this wasn’t a friendly encounter. 

“Wait, you sent it? But how -”

  “Did you forget I hacked into his email once? He still hasn’t changed his password. But never mind that!” Stiles thrust an accusing finger into Scott’s chest. “Why haven’t you been returning my calls? Last week I thought you died because you couldn’t bother to pick up the phone!” 

  At Stiles' rant Scott slowly began to realize the purpose of the chance meeting, and swatted Stiles’ hand away. 

“Stiles man come on,” Scott waved a nonchalant hand into the air “I was just busy that’s all, studying. You know, vet school is hard to get into, especially with my recent grades.”

Stiles scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest, “Uh huh, so busy, and yet you find the time to  have movie nights with the rest of the pack” His arms were shaking and his heart was pounding as he became angrier at Scott’s blatant lies “without me.” 

Scott shrunk into himself at that. “You were in the tree last Sunday.”

“Congrats Sherlock for cracking the fucking case,” Stiles spat, throwing his hands up in the mocking celebrating “Ya know? For a guy with supernatural  hearing and smell you sure suck at using them.”

“Bro, come on! It was an impromptu movie night and -” 

“Yeah, was it also an ‘impromptu ’ dinner with the pack at the local diner? Was it an ‘ impromptu’ get-together in a secluded part of the school during lunch?!”

Stiles could feel his rage reach its tipping point, and Scott knew that he couldn’t use excuses anymore. 

“Scott,” Stiles breathed deeply, trying to calm down. “I just want to know why you have been ignoring me and don’t use ‘I was busy’ again bullshit. I know that the rest of you have been purposely going out of your way to not even come near me, I just want to know why .” What did I do wrong? went unsaid. 

And if Stiles’s voice cracked near the end it went ignored.  

Stiles waited for Scott to answer, but he didn’t want him to answer, he wanted an apology. He wanted Scott to say that it's the truth that he wasn’t purposely avoiding Stiles, that the pack wasn’t ignoring him, and that he was sorry and they would order some greasy pizza tonight and play video games until they passed out like nothing was wrong or ever wrong, to begin with. 

But that didn’t happen. 

“Last month we all agreed,” Scott started quietly “and we all thought it was best if you weren’t a part of the pack anymore.” 

An icy wave rippled down Stiles' spine as he felt his stomach drop with dread but Scott continued, “We all came to that agreement after we realized you weren’t taking the pack meetings seriously, you’re always joking around and you barely focus on what I am saying. You even go against my plans all the time!  I mean come on Stiles what we are facing out there isn’t a joke and we can’t have someone as juvenile as you be a part of the pack.” 

Stiles felt his cheeks heat up as he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, him not taking the pack meetings seriously. Almost every single meeting had Stiles’s full attention, he stayed up way past his bedtime researching everything and anything that could help defeat that week’s big bad. His permanent eye bags were evidence of that. He was the one who sent out texts about the meetings most of the time, he kept an organized file on his computer containing notes and recordings of each of them! He was pretty much the secretary while the others yelled at each other and made a mess of the snacks that, oh, that he brought. 

Going against Scott’s plans, most of the fucking time Scott’s “plans” almost always ended with the pack half almost dead so Stiles would be the one that would suggest alternative actions, to, you know, make sure that everyone is alive at the end of the day. Most of the time Scott wanted to fly head first at even a sign of trouble, and Stiles had to reel him back to make sure he had an actual plan before going after the big bad. 

And it was rich to hear Scott calling him immature. Sure, he was a teenage boy, he was a bit immature at times. Making sarcastic comments and inappropriate jokes was his specialty. But Scott knew that Stiles was the last person that would be considered ‘immature.’ His mom died when he was ten, and his father could barely go to work on time due to his grief. Stiles was the one walking halfway across town buying groceries and cleaning up the empty alcohol bottles. He was the one waking up his father for work, he was the one keeping his family together. 

He made jokes, sure. He couldn’t pay attention for very long without his Adderall, and if you gave him any amount of money for a stupid dare he would likely take it. But Stiles wasn’t immature. 

He grew up faster than most kids and Scott had a front-row seat to that. 

But Scott made his decision. The pack chose to kick him out but that doesn’t hurt as much as Scott talking to him like he wasn’t more than a nuisance. That they weren’t friends. That they weren’t anything other than co-workers who just happen to be doing the same fucked up work. That this conversation was an inconvenience to him, and that he had more important things to do. 

Stiles’s hands were shaking so hard and he knew his face was beet-red from anger. He couldn’t take this conversation confirming his worst fears were coming true. But a deep, dark, sickening part of him relished in the fact that everything he ever feared was warranted, that he was never more than a fucking loser, an outcast when even his best friend didn’t even want him around anymore. At least he now knows where he stands and that leaves him nauseated. He could feel his heart-breaking as his friendship was torn apart, but as heartbroken as he was he never backed down from a fight. 

“So that’s it then? Fine, kick me out,” Stiles glares and feels a hint of satisfaction when he sees Scott flinch at the venom in his voice “but we were friends, best friends, brothers before we ever even got into this mess. And ignoring me, avoiding me, that is not what friends do !” His voice carries through the empty field. 

He saw a smidge of guilt flash in those brown irises before it was gone, replaced with narrowed eyes.

“Yeah, friends that led another unwillingly into the woods and got them bitten by a freaking werewolf!” Scott snarls viciously, mostly in defense but there’s still resentment behind those words, like he still hasn’t forgiven Stiles for that night in the woods. 

Stiles flinches at the accusation. There wasn’t a day that he didn’t feel immense guilt over Scott’s lycanthropy. He never meant for it to happen, he never wanted it to happen. He still blames himself for it and for Scott to still feel a bit of resentment towards him for that night makes his heart break even more.

Scott breathes sharply when he realizes what he said was a little too far, he raises his hands in surrender in an attempt to somehow rectify the growing rift between the two of them. 

“Stiles- I’m sorry, that was too far,” Scott sighed and tried to put a hand on Stiles’s shoulder.

But Stiles shrugs him off and steps away putting more distance between the two of them.

 “No, I get it. It’s hard being an alpha, but I just thought our friendship meant more to you than all of this.” 

“Stiles, your friendship is important to me! You don’t know the pressure that is on my shoulders right now. We just thought it was best if you… stayed away for a bit.” 

And that was it. Several years of friendship were being washed down the drain and Stiles could hardly hear what Scott was saying anymore, his vision had become blurry and his ears were rushing with imaginary water. Even though his heart ached he knew that he would grant Scott this last request. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to be petty about it. 

“OK, I’ll leave you guys alone. I don’t want someone as juvenile as me to ruin what you guys have. Sorry for being such an inconvenience.”

With that Stiles spun on his heels and walked away, ignoring Scott’s calls for him to stop. With tears in his eyes, he could barely see the rest of the pack at the edge of the lacrosse field, obviously having heard and seen everything. 

Stiles couldn’t handle their pitying looks, even Jackson was looking a bit to the side avoiding Stiles's face as he came closer to them. 

Stiles didn’t say anything, just brushed past them and speed walked towards the parking lot, barely aware climbing into his car and driving home. 

It was only in the comfort of his room did he fell apart. 

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stiles kept his word. 

For the few weeks that followed Scott officially kicked him out of the pack he left them alone as much as he could. Stiles barely looked at them in class, kept his head down in the hallways to avoid any chance of eye contact, and spent his evenings hidden in the library, buried underneath piles of papers studying for the exams. 

He didn’t need to study, at this point he knew everything he needed to know by heart, but it was a distraction to the overwhelming despondency he felt. 

When his mother died he didn’t know how to handle it.  He coped by distracting himself in every way he could. Cleaning, reading, cooking, etc. There wasn’t a minute where he wasn’t doing something. He kept going and going until he fell apart. 

It happened exactly one year after his mother died. On the anniversary of her death. He didn’t know what triggered it but one moment he was beside his dad, holding flowers over his mother’s grave, the next he was tightly clenching the front of his father’s jacket, small hands stretching the fabric as he heaved gut-retching sobs, and blubbered nonsense as his dad whispered indiscernible words into his ear trying to calm him down.

It felt like an eternity before he was able to lift his aching head off of his father’s chest and croak out that he wanted to go home. His father did so, without hesitation, picking him up and carrying him to the car. 

That was the last night he slept in his father’s room, too anxious to let go of him for even a second the rest of the night. 

Now he felt like he was on the verge of experiencing something like that again. 

But he’s older now, more in control. He easily puts on a persona indicating nothing was wrong. Still acting like a sarcastic asshole to Harris and making jokes with his father, but he knows that he can’t keep up this charade for long. His dad is becoming visibly worried, having noticed that his son is spending more time than necessary inside his room or the school library. To wean off his father’s anxiety he starts going for runs out in the preserve. Mostly he just wanted another distraction and running was the perfect one, all he needed to focus on was not tripping over the many roots that littered the ground of the trails and his breathing. After a few weeks, it became his favorite way to escape. 

Running was never something Stiles thought he would enjoy. Running meant sweaty armpits, bruised ribs, and a face plant into wet soil. He tried to avoid it as much as possible outside of lacrosse and monster attacks. Now, running still left him a sweaty, gasping mess but it cleared his mind from all the bad thoughts that circulated. It made him feel more in control, and calmer whenever he finished a long track. Sure it left his sides in stitches but at least he didn’t feel on the verge of a panic attack. 

But it only was for a brief while. 

No matter how fast he ran and how far, his exhaustion couldn’t keep the nightmares at bay. Oh yeah, did he mention that the nightmares were becoming ten times worse? 

It wasn’t out of the ordinary. Stiles always suffered from nightmares even before his mother died. It was after her death they became more common. Almost every night he would have one that left him sweating and gasping for air. Each one was different, and after a while, he got used to them. Able to control himself a bit better after dealing with them for years, but ever since the pack kicked him out he finds himself screaming awake, thrashing in the bed from invisible blows and punches that leave phantom aches all over his body. His father is there each time, rushing in and holding him until the panic wears off and he’s just left exhausted but unable to close his eyes again. 

He knows that he should talk to his dad. It’s just adding to the stress that he’s been feeling lately, but he can’t bring himself to talk about the memories that cause this. He knows about Gerard and everything that has happened but they never talked about the effect it has had on Stiles. Mostly because he was good at putting up a mask of indifference, but each night waking up to screams and sobs has them both on edge. The relationship they worked so hard to rebuild is crumbling down again due to Stiles's silence and he can’t bring himself to do anything about it. 

Between the pack kicking him out, the nightmares, and the stress of, well, everything Stiles was on his way to a Grade-A mental breakdown. 

He knew that when he entered through the school doors today was not going to be a good day. The nightmare from last night was a bad one, leaving him shaken to his core from memories that he tried to repress. His body ached from days of not sleeping properly and a start of a headache was forming behind his eyes. Yet, he swallowed tightly and slowly made his way through his day with less pep in his step. Not like anyone noticed, Coach surprisingly stated that he looked like shit, but continued his lesson without a care. 

The day seemed longer than usual and his anxiety was thrumming underneath his skin, like he drank four shots of espresso in a row. Jumping at every slight noise and heart hammering in his chest. He wonders if the pack could hear it, that they were concerned. He shakes his head at those thoughts but it only worsens his headache.  

By lunchtime, he debates calling it quits and heading home. His head was on fire and it was getting harder to pay attention to everything happening. He didn’t pack his lunch today, knowing that morning he wouldn’t eat (which he has been neglecting as well), and holes himself in a secluded boy’s bathroom. 

It was quiet in there, and no people were coming in to bother him. He turns the faucet to cold and splashes some water onto his face in an attempt to calm himself down a bit. Wiping the water from his eyes, he looks up into the mirror and screams.

Chapter Text

Looking back at him wasn’t his face, well it was but it wasn’t. The face in the mirror was his but more gaunt, eye-bags sunken to the bone and as white as a sheet. But that wasn’t what made him scream, it was smiling at him. The pearly white teeth opened up, stained with black liquid as it dripped from the mouth of the monster wearing his face. 

Stiles frantically back-peddles and his back hits the door of the stall behind him. To his horror, the lights flicker erratically as the face in the mirror starts to slowly crawl its way out, bone-white hands with dirty and broken fingernails gripped onto the sides of the mirror, pulling itself out Grudge style. 

Stiles's chest was heaving with fear as he turned and ran to the door, grabbing onto the handle and pulling. 

It wouldn’t budge. 

Looking at its wide eyes and trembling legs, he begins frantically pulling and pushing the door. Slamming his hands into the wood, screaming for someone to open it. To help him. He looks back to witness the creature slip out of the mirror and stand up to its full height. Its mouth is still in that same grotesque smile and its eyes began dripping the black liquid that stained its teeth. It took its time coming over to Stiles as he gave up trying to get out and slid slowly onto the floor. Looming over him the lights began to flicker more and as the creature raised a thin hand over its head the lights turned off completely. 

As soon as the lights turned off they turned on again. Bathing the bathroom in the harsh, yellow lights. Stiles still sat trembling, eyes blown wide open as he stared at where the creature was. Not wasting a single second more he clawed at the handle hoping it would open now. Breathing out a sigh of relief when it swung open easily. Stiles didn’t hesitate to run down the hallway, as far away from the bathroom as possible. 

Lunch was just getting out, and people making their way through the hallways to their next class period. But Stiles didn’t care as he stumbled through the crowd, barely focusing on what was happening until he slammed into a hard chest. 

The force sent him flying backward and onto his back. Scrambling to get his bearings he looks up to see the concerned face of Danny Mahealani. 

“Jesus Stiles! Where are you going in such a rush?” Danny asked, reaching down a hand to help him up. 

But Stiles wasn’t seeing Danny anymore, he was seeing the old, yet rough hand of Gerard Argent as he hit him. Blow after blow, kick after kick. Stiles couldn’t breathe and he was faintly aware of people looking on at the scene. Whispering about him, calling him crazy, a freak. 

He could barely see in front of him as he stumbled to his feet, swaying slightly. The noise of the hallway was going in and out as he ignored the distressed calls of his name by Danny and staggered his way toward the front entrance. A hand on his shoulder stopped him, and he quickly whipped around to get it off only to be caught by the bicep and dragged to god knows where. He tried fighting off the hand but his breathing was making him light-headed and he couldn’t see straight anymore. 

It hurt, it all hurt so much. He couldn’t take it anymore. Scott had to be here soon, he would save him. Scott will surely save him. Please god, make it stop, he can’t breathe, he can’t BREA-

“-iles! Stiles! Listen to my voice! Ok, follow my breathing in three -” 

In three, out three, in three, out three. 

That is what his mom used to do whenever he had anxiety attacks. Follow the breathing, in three, out three, in three, out three…. 

Slowly, Stiles became more aware of his surroundings. He wasn’t in Gerard’s basement getting beaten to a pulp, he was in an empty classroom. The person in front of him wasn’t Gerard, but Danny who was hovering worryingly in front of him, lightly touching his shoulders, keeping him steady, as he instructed Stiles to breathe properly. 

“Good. Good job, man. Really good job, keep going.” 

It took a few more minutes before Stiles was able to calm down enough. His legs still trembled and his hands shook as Danny helped him into an empty desk chair. Tears gathered in his eyes, but he quickly wiped them away with a shaking hand. 

“You ok there Stiles?” Danny asked taking a seat next to Stiles and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“Yeah,” Stiles gasps out, swallowing around the lump in his thought, “Yeah, I’m good.” 

“Do you want me to get Scott? I can if you -” 

Stiles shakes his head, “No, no Scott and I, we - we aren’t friends anymore.” 

Danny is silent for a minute, “what happened? You guys were always so tight unless you didn’t want to talk about it. That’s fine too.” 

Stiles looks up at Danny properly this time, his eyes are filled with concern and sympathy and Stiles aches to talk about everything that has been happening. The pack, the nightmares, and now the creature . 

“ It was all in your imagination, you’re tired, it was a hallucination,” whispered a voice. 

Maybe it wasn’t a hallucination, creepy shit happened all the time but he hasn’t been sleeping well lately and lack of sleep can cause those things to happen, and Danny doesn’t deserve to be caught up in his drama. He’s too nice for his bullshit. 

“Don’t worry about it, man. Scott and I… just fell off. Had a big argument a few weeks back and just decided it was for the best.” 

“Still dude, that sucks.” 

“It’s okay.” 

They sit in silence for a minute and Stiles relishes in the company of another person. He didn’t realize until now how lonely he was. 

“Do you want to at least talk about what set off that panic attack?” asked Danny leaning back in the orange school chair and looking at Stiles with understanding eyes. 

Stiles doesn’t say anything for a minute, and Danny takes his silence as a means to keep talking. 

“Look, I didn’t want to say anything, but you have been off lately. I mean you always were a little weird, but you have been distant and acting weirder than normal, and now the panic attack.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, making him look like a school counselor. 

“I’m just worried for you man, and you don’t have to talk to me but now that I know Scott isn’t around I just want to make sure that you are ok.” 

The concern coming from Danny is overwhelming. Apart from his Dad, he doesn’t remember the last time someone has shown an ounce of concern or worry over his well-being. And this is coming from Danny of all people. Someone who he thought didn’t give a shit about him, until now. He noticed his weird behavior and helped him through a panic attack. He’s concerned and that just makes Stiles want to spill his guts. 

“I don’t know man. Just, so much is happening lately and I’m stressed out of my mind. I just think with everything going on I just snapped, ya know?” 

Danny nods with understanding. Soon they will graduate and everything is changing so fast. Friends leaving, and college was coming up fast, except Danny didn’t know the extent of everything. He didn’t have to deal with the monsters that lurked behind every corner. 

Stiles was jealous of him in a way that he could live a normal life, but he would never wish this upon someone like Danny. He didn’t deserve that. 

The final warning bell for the next period rang out and Stiles started to stand up. His legs have stopped trembling at this point and his headache is back to manageable. He made his way to the door. 

“Stiles, Wait!” 

He looks back to Danny, who is quickly scribbling something onto a sheet of paper that he took from his backpack. 

“Here. This is my number. I know you don’t want to talk at length right now, but if you ever do please, don’t be afraid to give me a call. Maybe we can grab a pizza and hang out sometime?”

Stiles stares at the paper extended to him, slowly he reaches out a hand and grabs it. 

“Are you asking me out on a date Malealani?” Stiles smirks shoving the paper into his front pocket. 

Danny snorts, the tension in the room fading away. “No, never in your dreams Stilinski, I just think you’re a cool dude, and while we never really hung out before I think it’s about time we changed that. ”

He looks down at his shoes, scuffing the linoleum with the tips of his sneakers. Red crept onto his cheeks at his admission, which shocks Stiles again before he shakes his head. 

“Hey, I would love to hang out with you, honestly didn’t think you liked me at all really.”

Danny looks up with an offended expression, “Sure, you were a dork but I never disliked you, Stiles, just a little too loud for my taste.” 

Stiles smiles at that, it’s a banter that he misses something dearly, and his chest aches at the thought of a certain sourwolf that would say something similar. His smile becomes sad at the thought. 

“Danny, I’m just joking, how about we order some pizza and watch movies at my place? My dad is working the night shift so we don’t have to worry about the time.” 

Danny grins at that and they fist bump. Something he never thought he would be doing with Danny, but honestly it made him feel lighter. 

“Ok! Awesome! I’ll meet you at your house at 6?”

“That would be great.”

Chapter Text

Becoming friends with Danny was the best thing to happen to Stiles in a while. 

Danny was hilarious, being able to keep up with Stiles’s quick banter with his dry humor. Their conversations were a sight to behold according to his father and Danny was a calming presence to Stiles’s chaotic one. He did a better job than Scott ever did at bringing Stiles down to Earth again. 

They, surprisingly, had a lot of common interests. Both had nerdy hobbies and both had a love for action movies and comic books. Danny admitted that he never indulged in them because it wasn’t all that cool. But since Jackson dumped him he doesn’t give a shit anymore. 

“You and Jackson aren’t friends anymore?”

It was Friday night, rain was pelting against the windows of his bedroom. They were having a lazy night in due to the rain, watching Grey’s Anatomy, one of Danny’s favorite shows. They were binge-watching it on Stiles’s laptop on his bed. Danny was sitting against the wall while Stiles was lying on his side towards the propped-up laptop between them. 

 Stiles feels like an idiot for not noticing that Danny and Jackson haven’t been hanging out as much as they used to. A sick part of him leaped with joy at the thought of not being the only one being left behind. He instantly feels a twinge of guilt at that. 

“Yeah, ever since that lacrosse game where he disappeared he’s been distant and always wants to hang out with Lydia. Which isn’t unusual but it just became so frequent I barely saw him anymore to the point I decided to just not try.” 

Danny fishes out a Dorito chip and munches on it nonchalantly like the admission didn’t bother him. 

“Yeah, they become attached to the hip after that day. Honestly, it’s kinda nauseous to look at.” Stiles points a finger to his mouth and mimics a gag. 

Danny raises an eyebrow at him, smirking slightly. “Nauseous from the PA or is it just jealousy because you love Lydia?” 

Stiles cringes at that. Sure, for so long Stiles has said he was in love with her and all that gross stuff. But after everything that has happened and the fact that Lydia clearly would never see him as anything more than a friend (or ex-friend at this point) he gave up and honestly felt better for it. 

“Don’t be gross dude, I don’t like her like that anymore. Our love was never meant to be. Forbidden, lost, and unrequited til the bitter end,” he sighed dramatically and  rolled onto his back, “Now stop hogging up the Doritos” 

Stiles made grabby hands towards the bag, which Danny gave willingly. 

“Well, I’ll be damned! The Stiles Stilinski, number one Lydia fanboy, finally admitting it’s a lost cause! I never thought I’d see the day!” 

Stiles flicks a Dorito at Danny in retaliation to that statement, grinning when it hits him squarely in the forehead. 

“Mature Stiles, really mature.” 

Stiles sticks his tongue out and grabs a handful of chips, shoving them into his mouth and turning towards the TV. Hanging out with Danny these past weeks has been awesome. Stiles doesn’t realize how lonely his life has become since being kicked out of the pack. 

Being in the pack was great, a group of friends to finally call his own, but he felt like an outsider. They all had something special about them whether it was being a werewolf, banshee, or hunter. Stiles was just…Stiles. The resident human. Nothing more, nothing less but always a burden. 

The only people that never made him feel like that were his Dad and Derek. Derek especially. He never made Stiles feel like a burden for just being around. He went to Stiles for advice, praised him for figuring something out, and always thanked him for being there. He greeted Stiles at the door while everyone else barely moved to stand and kept an eye on him when he was overworking himself. 

Stiles would return the same sentiment with gusto. He kept Derek’s fridge stocked with homecooked meals on his bad days, helped clean up after pack meetings, and thanked him every time Derek got him anything. Derek was the first he turned to whenever he was looking for support knowing full well that he would listen while the rest didn’t. 

Thinking of Derek made Stiles’s chest ache. He never admitted it in front of Scott or the rest but he was devastated when Derek left. He understood why, god he did. But no note? No text? Not even a simple goodbye? It pained Stiles to the core how little Derek seemed to care about the relationship they were forming if he couldn’t even say goodbye to Stiles. 

He must’ve been spacing out hard cause he was rattled out of his thoughts by Danny flicking him on the forehead. 

“Jesus! What?!” 

“You were spacing out hardcore dude! I called your name like a dozen times!” 

Danny was looking at Stiles in concern and Stiles quickly tried to soothe his worries. 

“Dude, I’m just really invested in this episode right now, like that leech that was stuck in that girl’s nose! Nasty stuff dude, nasty stuff.”

Danny shivered at the mention of it, “Don’t remind me I hated that part when I first watched it.” 

The rest of the night went by fast eventually leading to Danny having to go home since he needed to get up early to go to work. 

They said their goodbyes and Danny ran out to his car, instantly getting soaked from the downpour. Stiles felt bad, but he tried offering him an umbrella. Danny insisted that he would be fine. Still, it made Stiles worry that he would catch a cold. 

He went upstairs to get ready for bed. His dad was working the night shift again so he would be alone. Since he and Danny started hanging out his nightmares had become less intense and he was getting a decent amount of sleep.  Not a lot, but it’s more than before. 

Turning the faucet to his shower he waits for the water to heat up a bit before stepping in. He takes his time, closing his eyes under the warm spray, indulging in the comfort of the shower. He’s lathering soap onto his arms when suddenly he gets goosebumps as a chill runs down his spine. 

His flight or fight instinct kicks, when he hears the sound of something hitting the tiled floor of the bathroom. He strains his ears to hear more but can’t with the sound of rushing water. Picking up the closest item (a shampoo bottle) with his right hand. He raises it above his head and takes a deep breath before pulling back the curtain with his other hand prepared to chuck it at anything and bolt. 

There was nothing, but a steamy bathroom, and a foggy mirror. 

“Just my imagination,” Sighing with relief, he turns off the shower and steps out grabbing his towel off the rack to begin drying off. He’s drying his hair when he feels the air turn cold and something breathes down his neck. Stiles whips his head around the small bathroom. 

Nothing again. 

Even with reassurance that he was alone, it didn’t stop goosebumps from reappearing on his skin. The steamy bathroom doesn’t feel as warm anymore and the feeling of dread pools in his stomach when the bathroom lights above his mirror flickered slightly. 

“Not again! Nope, I’m out of here!” he says aloud, wrapping the towel tightly around his waist as he quickly approaches the door. 

Only for it to not open. 

“No nononononononono” he curses and pulls at the handle even though he knows it’s useless. 

“ Remember this is all a hallucination! It’s nothing but your mind playing tricks on you! Sick, twisted, fucked up tricks!” 

The lights behind him began flickering wildly. Slowly, he turned, dreading what he already knew he would see. Only to find nothing but the flickering lightbulb of the bathroom until it went completely out. 

He breathed harshly through his nose, trying to calm down and adjust his eyes to the dark bathroom. He reached back and tried to find the door handle but found a grimy wall instead. 

“ What?’ he whispered and slowly turned around to find that he wasn’t in his bathroom anymore, instead he was in a dark room smelling of mold and wet soil. It was hard to make out where he was but due to the smell and the nasty walls, he assumed he was in a basement of sorts. 

“This isn’t real. Your mind is playing tricks again! Soon you’ll wake up and this will all be another nightmare. It's not like this isn't the first time you fell asleep in the shower!”

Trying to calm down, he squeezes his eyes so tight and rubs at them until he sees stars. Hoping that once he blinks them away he will be back in his bathroom. 

It didn’t work. 

Pushing himself forward, he steps with one trembling foot in front of the other. The room was cold and he puffed out clouds of mist. 

He crept forward through the room cautiously, jumping slightly when something gross dripped onto his shoulder. He grimaces as he tries to wipe away the liquid. It smudges against his skin and he can’t help but gag at the smell it produced. 

“Fucking nasty, what the hell is this stuff?” 

It’s sticky and thick. “ Like blood.” he thinks. 

Wiping his hand on the towel around his waist, he musters up the courage to continue his path through the creepy torture basement. His head was on a swivel, keeping an eye out for any face-stealing monsters that might be lurking in the dark corners.

He rubs his arms when his teeth begin to chatter in the cold. He feels his wet hair slowly turn into icicles and the circulation to his feet is becoming nonexistent. 

“ It’s just a hallucination, it’s just a hallucination, it’s just a hallucination.” 

Eventually, he finds a rotten door and with trembling fingers, which he doesn’t know is from the frigid air or his anxiety, pushes it open with a hard shove, it lets out a grating squeak from the rusty hinges. 

Peering inside he sees a room bathed in an orange glow from a singular lightbulb that hangs in the middle of it.  A welcome change to the darkness and it takes Stiles's eyes a moment to adjust. 

The room was just as gross-looking as the one he was just in. The hanging light made the room more creepy as it showed off the crumbling walls and the strange dark liquid that dripped off them. 

Stiles steps into the room, pushing the door open the rest of the way. He gasps when the bottom of his foot hits something sharp and he looks down to see the ground covered in little shards of glass.  

Quickly stepping back, he holds the bottom of his foot up to find only a small cut. 

“ I don’t think this is a hallucination anymore.” 

He can’t do anything about the cut and moves forward with more caution. Taking care to not step onto any glass he is only halfway through the room when the door at the end slowly starts to squeak close. 

“Shit! No!” 

Stiles hops as quickly as he can over but doesn’t make it in time before the door is slammed shut. He tries the handle and pulls, not being surprised to find it locked tight. 

“Of fucking course I get trapped in a creepy-ass room in a creepy-ass basement almost completely naked!” laughing hysterically he turns and yells. “What next?! Do the lights turn off?!” 

The light turns off. 

“Great. How. fucking. original.”

Chapter Text

To Danny, Stiles was odd. 

Actually, to everyone, Stiles was odd.

He was a spaz, a loudmouth, a know-it-all. He couldn’t sit still for even a second and was always asking stupid questions that left people groaning in frustration. 

“ He’s a freak” classmates would whisper behind cruel laughs and taunts. 

Danny wasn’t any better than his classmates in thinking Stiles was weird. But calling him a freak was too far. Sure, Stiles was different but to Danny he was a good different. 

Before Danny became friends with Jackson he remembers being in first grade. Freshly moved and terrified. Hiding in the corner of the class at playtime, away from the other kids. He wasn’t the best at social interaction and was scared of almost everything. All he wanted was to go home to his teddy and his mom. 

He remembers tears springing up into his eyes as he hid his face in his knees until a shadow covered him. When he looked up he saw a boy with a shaved head, a blue dinosaur bandaid on his nose, and crooked teeth smiling down at him. The smile was warm and bright as the boy pushed a tiny hand towards him and proudly stated that his name was Stiles Stilinski and they were going to be friends. 

And they were, for three weeks until he met Jackson. 

“You don’t want to be friends with him.” hissed the boy with piercing blue eyes that made Danny’s heart flutter a bit. “He’s a freak.”

Danny looked back at where Stiles wandered off, chasing after an interesting-looking bug or something. Danny remembers Stiles looking back at him with that bright smile and it slipping off when he realized Danny wasn’t playing with him anymore, instead choosing to be dragged away by Jackson to go play kickball on the other side of the playground. 

Danny didn’t regret his friendship with Jackson. He was a spoiled jackass but Jackson wasn’t a bad dude. He was very misguided. And he means very. Jackson is a complicated person just like everyone else and if he had the right influences he could be someone great. 

His only regret was not stepping in to stop his bullying. Danny never participated, but he always regretted not punching Jackson in the face once and a while just to give him a taste of his own medicine. Or at least tell him to fuck off when he went too far. 

He especially regretted it when it came to Stiles. 

Stiles was predisposed to never be ‘normal.’ And he always made it known that he was fine with that. While Danny was trying his best to fit in, Stiles didn’t care about fitting in. 

Danny always admired him for that. 

While he and Stiles never got along well after that day in the playground, Danny never disliked him. Stiles’s humor and tendency to razz up teachers made the school day a little more bearable. He was a magnet for trouble, a sarcastic jerk, but the kindest person he’s ever met. 

Sometimes he regrets throwing away their friendship all those years ago, but as his mom always says it’s your actions that define your future, not the past. 

When Jackson started ditching him in favor of Lydia, he was on his own. Sure, he had other friends, but they just weren’t “friends.” More like hang-out buddies. He only had a couple of close friends in his life and that included Jackson. 

Being on his own wasn’t too bad, he enjoyed it most of the time. He was able to concentrate on his school work, spend more time with his mom, and work on the weekends without worrying about Jackson and his fuse. It was a relaxing period, something he hadn’t experienced in a long time. 

Until Stiles came into school one day unusually quiet. 

One thing about Stiles is that you just knew when he entered a room. He liked to take up space in any way he could. Either by talking, waving his arms around or just being up in your business. It was rare to see him reserved, slinking into his seat without a word. 

To say Danny was weirded out was an understatement. But he brushed it off as a one-time thing. Everyone had their off days. 

But it kept on happening. Stiles was a good actor but he wasn’t that good. Something was wrong and it seemed like Danny was the only one to notice. But like all those times Jackson would harass someone, Danny stayed silent. 

He wishes he said something sooner when a panicked Stiles ran into him, almost making him fall onto his ass. The look of fright in those hazel eyes shook Danny to the core and he knew right then and there he wouldn’t be silent anymore. 

Since that day Danny has had the most fun in his life. He could tell that Stiles was wary of him at first, which he doesn’t blame him for being, but soon Stiles became more comfortable around him. 

His friendship with Stiles was becoming the best thing to happen to him during his Senior year. Stiles was funny, quick-witted and most of all a dork. But in a good way. His nerdy hobbies reflected Danny’s own and he found that he could be himself around Stiles more than he ever could around Jackson or any of his other “friends.” 

He and Stiles never talked about the panic attack. Stiles was, surprisingly, a very private person and it was hard to get any information about him. Good thing Danny was a great observer. 

One thing about Stiles was he was a nerd for things more than action movies but the supernatural as well. He couldn’t help but peek at the random books that littered his room. Most of them are about werewolves and random folklore. 

Danny didn’t find this too odd his mom loved reading up on things like that, recalling that in her youth her childhood home was haunted. Danny didn’t know if he was a believer in the supernatural, but hearing the stories from his mom gave him an open mind to the idea of it. Besides, weird things happen in Beacon Hills all the time, his mom thinks it’s cursed. 

Second, Stiles never liked to talk about himself at length. Whenever they got onto a deep topic he always redirected back to talking about Danny. He doesn’t know how he does it and he’s determined to get Stiles to open up more. Stiles keeps things about himself surface level, and Danny has to pick up on the context clues that Stiles is worse off than he initially thought from just a few slip-ups Stiles gave. 

Danny hit his head against his work locker at the thought of Friday night’s binge-watching marathon. Stiles was spacing out hardcore, a far-away look in his eyes, and Danny couldn’t help but notice that he seemed skinnier than normal. Sure, Stiles is a lanky dude but he never was this bony. “Has he been eating enough” Danny wondered. 

He brushed off the thought in favor of getting Stiles’s attention, away from the dark thoughts that circled his friend’s head. 

 Stiles, like always, was able to redirect the conversation away and Danny, like always, let him. 

What happened to not being silent anymore Malealani? 

It was Saturday morning, and the weather was already better than it was yesterday, but grey clouds still covered the sun. The storm that rolled through was a nasty one and his mom wasn’t happy that he got her carpet damp from getting soaked in the downpour. 

“Maybe I should’ve accepted the umbrella from Stiles,” he thought. 

He sighed heavily and opened up his locker getting ready for his shift. It was a busy day at the store where he worked stocking products. He likes the mundane routine of his job, able to give himself something mindless to do. He couldn’t help but think that Stiles would hate it or come up with a random game to make the time go by faster. 

He was having his lunch break when his phone rang unexpectedly. Without checking the caller ID he answered. 

“Hello?” said Danny, taking a sip from his water bottle.

“Danny,” breathed a voice, like it was trying to keep worry from its tone. “ This is the Sheriff I was wondering if you have seen Stiles.” 

Danny perked up from his slouched position, instantly becoming alarmed “No? Not since last night. Why?” 

“I came home this morning and he wasn’t here, it’s not unusual for him to go places without telling me but his phone and wallet are still here. I know that he would never leave the house without them, plus the jeep is still in the driveway.”

This got Danny’s heart pounding, the Sheriff kept talking. “I tried calling Scott but he wouldn’t pick up his phone, and Melissa is at work so she doesn’t know anything. I know you two hung out last night so I was hoping you would know.” 

Danny cringes at the mention of Scott. Stiles didn’t tell him that they weren’t on speaking terms. 

He never did get an answer to why they weren’t friends anymore. But from context clues, he knows that the fight they had was serious enough for them to go no contact. He couldn’t help but notice the way Scott avoids Stiles like the plague now. Barely glancing in his direction. It makes Danny angry that Scott would ignore him like that when it’s so clear that Stiles isn’t doing well.

“Not like you did any better. Don’t get on a high horse now.”

“I don’t know Sheriff I left around 7,” Danny said shakily. “He didn’t say anything to me about going anywhere last night.”

The Sheriff breathed out a curse, obviously starting to lose his composure. 

“I can try and get in contact with Scott,” Danny offered, already forgetting about his lunch in favor of quickly making his way through the front door of the store and to his car. He would explain everything to his boss later but right now Stiles was his top priority. 

“If you can do that, I’ll greatly appreciate it. I know he and Scott haven’t been on the best of terms lately,” said the Sheriff huffing through his nose. “But I just think he could know something, they were friends for so long.” Danny could hear slight shifting through the phone and he could tell that the Sheriff was getting into his cruiser.

“I would check the library, I know he usually hangs out there or in the preserve, he might be on a run,” said Danny, finally slipping into his car. 

“God. I hope he is,” he thought. 

“Thank you Danny for your help, I’m going to recruit Deputy Parrish to help me in checking those places out I don’t want to cause a panic,” he says like he’s trying to convince himself not to panic. “Tell me what Scott says, please.”

Danny ignores the slight crack in his voice, knowing that the Sheriff was downplaying his worry. For himself or Danny, he doesn’t know. 

“I’m sure he’s fine Sheriff,” Danny says, trying to convince himself of that. “Knowing Stiles he probably just forgot his stuff and is just tripping over some roots on the trails.”

“I sure hope so Danny. I sure hope so.”

With that they say goodbye and Danny is on the road driving as fast as he can toward Scott’s house. He doesn’t have his number, but knows where he lives through the lacrosse parties he would host sometimes. 

Danny barely parks his car before getting out quickly and speed-walking to Scott’s front door. He rings the doorbell twice and waits. His hands are starting to sweat and he tries to calm his breathing. Thoughts are circling his head at the thought of Stiles being missing and he can’t help but bite his lip hard to stop them. 

It feels like an eternity for Scott to finally answer his door. 

“Danny, hey man! How are you?” asks Scott cheerfully, clearly confused by Danny’s presence at his door. 

“Hey Scott, I was wondering if Stiles was here. We have a project that we are working on together and he isn’t at his house.” The lie slips through his teeth like oil. He doesn’t know why he lies to Scott but the words “ don’t cause a panic’ are a mantra through his brain. 

Scott’s face falls at the mention of Stiles and he closes off quickly, bringing his arms to cross in front of his chest. He narrows his eyes at Danny and Danny has a weird feeling he could detect his lie. 

“No, he’s not here. I haven’t seen him.” Scott says coldly and Danny wants to punch him in the face when he raises an eyebrow at him. 

“Do you know where he might’ve gone?” he asked, clenching his fists to his sides. “This is a really important project.” 

“Nope, don’t know where he would’ve gone.” says Scott, popping the ‘p’ and shaking his head. 

Danny clenches his teeth, he breathes out through his nose and Scott eyes him suspiciously. 

“Danny, is everything alright?”

“Everything is fine Scott, perfectly fine !” Danny hisses out through his teeth. Scott takes a step back and raises both hands. 

“Dude, what is happening? Why are you getting mad at me?” 

Danny couldn’t keep his cool anymore, the stress of not knowing where Stiles was getting to him, and he could tell that Scott was being uncooperative on purpose. 

“Look Scott, the Sheriff called me this morning and told me that he hasn’t seen Stiles all morning,” He starts slowly. “We hung out last night but he didn’t say anything about going anywhere. He didn’t take his wallet or his phone with him, so we are hoping that you know anything.  

Scott looked surprised at that, letting his arms fall to his sides. “You and Stiles hang out?” 

Danny resisted the urge to facepalm. 

“Yes! But that isn’t important right now! I just want to know if you’ve seen him.”

Scott is silent for a minute before talking quietly. “Look Danny, Stiles and I haven’t been talking lately. I don’t know where he is, but he’s probably alright. He’s a spaz, and forgets stuff all the time! He might just be going on a drive somewhere or doing something.” 

“His car is still in his driveway.” 

Scott’s face paled slightly at that and he let out a slight “oh.” 

Danny couldn’t dwell much longer, it’s obvious that Scott knows nothing. 

“Scott. Please, if you hear anything or see anything call the Sheriff, he might be wandering around somewhere and this might be a false alarm, but,” Danny bites his lip “Stiles isn’t the type to just up and disappear without telling anyone and to leave everything behind. Especially his car.  So please, please let us know anything even if you two aren’t on speaking terms or aren’t friends. This is Stiles and if anything happened to him….”

Danny doesn’t finish his sentence, just brushes a trembling hand through his hair and turns to leave when Scott grabs his arm. 

“Do you think Stiles is in danger?”

Danny looks at him and sees a slight fear in his brown eyes and his crooked chin bops slightly when he pinches his lips together in worry. Danny’s face softens. 

“I don’t know.” 

With that, he leaves and climbs into his car. He looks up to see Scott still standing in the doorway, an unreadable expression on his face. He doesn’t linger and pulls out his phone when it buzzes to see a text message from an unknown number. 

It’s the Sheriff. 

“Library is a no-go, going to Preserve now.” 

Danny closes his eyes and breathes as he starts his car. Pulling out of Scott’s driveway he makes his way to the Preserve.

Chapter Text

The cold was starting to get to Stiles. 

He doesn’t know how long he was stuck in the dark room. Hours, days, weeks, months?

Ok. He might be a little dramatic. 

But he does know that it’s been a long time. 

His hands were stiff from the cold and his whole body violently shook in his crouching position in the corner. His teeth felt like they were about to crack in half from the force of their clanking. 

He knew that hypothermia had already gotten to him, his lips felt cold, and it was getting harder and harder to keep his eyes open. For a while, he tried to walk around to keep warm but the glass that littered the ground cut into the soles of his feet, leaving them bloody and painful. 

Good thing he can’t feel them anymore. 

Ok, maybe that isn’t a good thing. 

Stiles shuts his eyes and tries to rub his cold hands up and down his arms in a futile attempt at getting warm, he whimpers at the friction creating pins and needles to run down his arms. He shakily brings his fingers to his mouth and tries to warm them up with his mouth, but it seems like everything is cold now and his breath only produces cold mist. 

He doesn’t think he can move from his sitting position anymore, his joints and bones feeling like icicles, stiff and freezing. 

What am I doing? Waiting til I freeze to death? Come on Stiles! Think! 

But he can’t. Everything was starting to hurt and his brain could only think of the warm shower that he left before getting stuck in the basement. The wet towel does little to help, but a little cloth is better than nothing. 

He doesn’t want to think about how his toes don’t feel cold anymore. 

Just stay awake and think. Just stay awake and think. 

Just stay awake. 

That was getting hard to do as well. He caught himself closing his eyes and pinched his cold skin to wake himself up. He can’t fall asleep. Falling asleep is bad. Falling asleep meant…

Well, he doesn’t want to think about that possibility. 

Fuck this. 

Stiles slowly stands up, groaning as his stiff body unravels himself. While he already walked around the pitch-black room many times. He slowly shuffled around the perimeter again, toes bruising against the sharp glass. Stile keeps a trembling hand on the side of the wall, cringing as he accidentally wipes across the strange liquid that drips down. His hands are covered in it at this point, and he knows that his towel will need to be thrown out from him wiping his hands on it. 

He can’t feel the bite of the glass as it cuts into his skin. He tries not to think about what that means. 

Ok, here is the crack in the wall, the weird hole that leads to nowhere, the crack that feels like a crucifix, here is the rock on the ground…

He makes his way around the room and recounts the landmarks of each section of the wall until he makes it back to his corner near the closed door. 

It’s shut tight, with no weak spots or keyhole. Just a rusty handle and rotten wood. He tried kicking in the door, hoping it was rotten enough to make a hole, but it held on. He thinks he might’ve bruised his shoulder trying to take it down. 

Or I need to work out more. But I might die before I even can up my routine. 

Another wave of frost makes his entire body seize up. Silent tears slip down his face as he tries to keep his mind rational. 

It’s not working too well. 

He doesn’t know how long he’s been stuck in there, but he does know that he doesn’t have long left. 

“Ok-k,” he chatters aloud. “What would Lydia do?”

While he doesn’t like to think about her lately, she is the smartest person he knows. He closes his eyes and trances his footsteps back to the hole that leads to nowhere. Why would that be there?

Reaching inside hesitantly inside the hole, he brushes up against the other side and comes away with sticky fingers. 

That is so disgusting. 

Taking a deep breath, he reaches back in and pushes through the stickiness, gasping when he feels empty air on the other side. 

I’ve been in here for how long and this is the first time I thought of this?! 

I must be really off my A-game lately. 

Reaching his arm further he manages to hook his hand onto the other side of the wall and felt around. The wall crumbles slightly with his weight. 

Now we’re cooking!

He retracts his arm and shuffles around the room until he feels the rock again. It’s heavy and his arms tremble more as he lifts it. He manages to find his way back to the hole and with as much strength as he can muster, throws it against the wall. 

It crumbles just slightly again. 

Ok, we got this. He picks up the rock again. Freedom here I come! 

—------

Stiles doesn’t know how long it takes to finally make a hole big enough to crawl through. 

All he does know is that his body shutters with every breath he takes and his arms hurt something fierce when he finally crawls through the gross hole into the other side of the wall. His exhaustion makes him slide onto the floor, gasping lung full of breath, but smiling ear to ear. 

He’s still not out but at least he’s getting somewhere. 

He throws his arms up in celebration only for it to be crushed by the sound of something stepping closer to him. 

—------

Sheriff POV:

It’s been 8 hours since he first noticed Stiles was missing that morning. 

The search of the library was a bust. The friendly old woman who works the front desk said that Stiles does visit every Saturday, but he wasn’t in at his usual time. Parrish volunteered to check other possible places while the Sheriff and Danny ventured out into the trails of the preserve. It’s been 4 hours since then. If he was on the trails, they would’ve found him by now. 

“Just got another negative from Parrish for the diner.” 

John rubbed his eyes hard, making stars dance. His head was starting to hurt from lack of rest and water, but he couldn’t stop now. 

“Sheriff,” said Danny, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I think it’s about time we turned back.”

John turned and looked at the boy still dressed in his work uniform. His tired, worried eyes reflected his own and he knew Danny must be, if not more so, exhausted from the extensive search. While Stiles and Danny have only been friends for a short while, they get on like wildfire. John hasn’t seen Stiles smile so hard in months and he knows that Danny isn’t the type of boy to just give up, especially with a friend. 

Being exhausted and hungry won’t help find Stiles and Danny knows that. 

“I think you’re right kid,” John sighed, wiping the sweat off of his brow. The day was warm, a precursor for the hot summer days to come. The storm clouds that covered the sky that morning rolled away by mid-afternoon showing the sun in all of its glory. 

Danny mimicked his action and looked around, they must’ve been miles inside of the Preserve now, and the track back would take a few hours. John cringes at allowing Danny to go so far in without food, water, or even a change of clothes, but the boy doesn’t complain. John respected his toughness. 

“Maybe we missed him and he’s already home?” questioned Danny. 

The preserve is a labyrinth of winding paths and forks in the roads. It’s entirely possible that Stiles went on one path while they traveled another. But the Sheriff doubted that after 4 hours they would’ve come across Stiles by now. 

The preserve was beautiful this time of year, the trees were fresh with vibrant green leaves. Tall and ancient with winding roots. The sunlight peaked through shining like beams of angel light from the heavens above illuminating the path ahead. 

Stiles and he used to hike these woods together when his wife was still around. The boy excitedly bounced from one tree to the next, blabbing nature facts off the top of his head. He always admired his son’s tenacity to remember even the smallest of facts. It was during his animal and nature phase which he grew out of when he entered High School. 

His heart ached at those memories. Those days are long gone, ended when his wife died. 

“I hope so. It’s not like him to be gone for so long,” he responded. A faint gurgle could be heard from Danny’s direction and he turned to see his flushed face as his stomach growled in hunger. 

“Hey kid,” He pats Danny’s shoulder. “Once we get back and give Stiles a good scolding for scaring the shit out of us, how about I treat you to some dinner? How about the local diner? Their burgers are to die for.” 

“Wouldn’t that make Stiles mad that you ruined your diet?” Danny smirked, clearly just playing along. 

“That kid can’t say anything about it because he’ll be grounded forever for making us go through all this.” 

They both laugh, the gloom lifting off their shoulder a bit as they get into easy conversation about school, work, and other things. The talk is a good distraction from their exhaustion and worry. 

They're halfway out of the preserve when the Sheriff starts to recognize the area.

The Hale house should be around here. Right?  

“Hey Danny,” he says “How about you go on ahead a bit. There is something I want to check out, I’ll meet you soon.” 

Danny looks at him confused, clearly not liking the idea of splitting up. 

“Why can’t I just go with you?” 

Because where I’m about to go is a long shot but it’s better than wandering around aimlessly. 

“Because it’s a little out of the way and I don’t want to keep dragging you along. You’ve been a huge help but I can’t keep you here kid.”

“But you aren’t keeping me here! I’m here of my own volition, so lead the way.” 

John stares at Danny for a hot second. The kid’s forehead is dripping with sweat, his work uniform soaked along the armpits, and his stomach just let out another gurgle. The Sheriff could use his authority as a parental figure and his badge to get the kid out of there. Not only because he looked dead on his feet (John also felt dead as well), but John didn’t know the extent to which Stiles told Danny about the supernatural. 

John barely knew a lot, just that werewolves are real and his son almost died more times than he likes to think about. Stiles made it clear that the fewer people knew about it the better. 

“ It’s important that this doesn’t get out Dad,” Stiles explained, nervously wringing his hands together. 

It was a few weeks after the Hale boy left. The Sheriff could tell something was wrong with his son. Stiles was more skittish than normal, his grades dipped considerably and he would lock himself in his room at any chance he got. The worst came when he started skipping school.   

John couldn’t tolerate this behavior any longer. (He was acting too much like he did when his wife died). 

“Stiles…” 

“I know that you don’t believe me fully, hell I don’t think you believe me at all,” Stiles looked him straight in the eyes and he had never seen such an intense look from his son before. “But the pack is already in so much danger from just existing, and I can’t lie to you anymore, so just promise me that you won’t speak about this to anyone that isn’t pack or pack adjacent.” 

The Sheriff looked at his son for a few seconds, bringing him all in. 

Stiles looked exhausted and defeated. That usual spark in his eyes seemed dimmer than normal and his shoulders were hunched like he was expecting John to yell at him or laugh. 

“Stiles, I won’t say I understand but I do believe you and I won’t speak a word about this to anyone.” 

Stiles’s shoulders slumped down in relief, and he subtly wiped at his eyes. 

“Now,” said the Sheriff. “Don’t think this lets you off the hook for skipping out on school though.” 

The Sheriff still thinks back on that day and wonders if Stiles would've kept up the game if he hadn’t confronted Stiles about his behavior. He hasn’t been there for his son, he knows that. Their relationship suffered a lot throughout the years due to the Sheriff’s negligence, which didn’t help with Stile’s lies. 

They’re both not good at being upfront with each other. Thus was life with the Stilinski men. Two emotionally incompetent people who are trying their best to do right by each other every day. 

Even though Stiles made him promise, he couldn’t help but feel in his gut that something more supernatural was   going on. 

And the Hale house was the perfect starting point. The only issue was Danny. 

But the look in Danny’s eyes he just couldn’t help but see that same intensity he saw in his son that day. Danny was willing to do anything to protect the ones he loves and how can the Sheriff say no to that? 

“Alright,” John sighed and started heading in the direction of the Hale house. “This is a long shot and whatever happens over there-” 

The Sheriff turns to look at Danny, placing a firm grip on his shoulder and looking him in the eyes.

“You speak of it to no one.”

Chapter Text

Pain. 

That’s all Stiles felt. 

Searing, antagonizing pain burning a hole through his skull. His body was weighed down. Arms and legs refusing to function. All he can do is lie there and hope to God that it will disappear. 

But he can’t do that. He needed to get home .

He released a hiccuping breath as he tried to move just his pointer finger. Vomit bubbled up in his throat and he swallowed down the urge. With several deep breaths, he bit back a scream when he slowly turned his body so he was on his stomach. 

Sweat pooled down his naked body, it felt like a thousand red-hot pokers were hitting him over and over again. He grunted pulling his legs up underneath him, slowly getting onto all fours. His arms shook and he couldn’t swallow down the vomit that made his way up his esophagus this time. He heaved, unleashing everything that was in his stomach.

Stiles whimpered and he tried to wipe the hot tears that gathered in his eyes, but his arms shook just trying to hold himself up. He let the tears fall, each one splashing slowly into the mess he made of the ground. 

He doesn’t know where he is anymore, eyes too blurred to make out his surroundings. He couldn’t focus on anything that wasn’t the pain coursing through his body, and he sobbed harder when another sharp knife lodged its way into his skull. His weak arms failed him and he collapsed, curling up into a fetal position, not caring when he felt his hair get wet from the vomit. 

“ It hurts so bad, please, please, please make it stop Dad, please, please anyone.” 

“Stiles!? OH MY GOD!”

—--------

Stiles throws his arms up in celebration only for it to be crushed by the sound of something stepping closer to him. 

He scrambled up into a standing position as fast as his battered body would allow. His arms and legs shook with exhaustion. He ignored his cut-up soles as he pushed himself against the wall. 

The room he was in was just as, if not colder, than the other one. But instead of pitch darkness, cracks of light shone through the crevices of the walls and ceiling, faintly illuminating the room, but not by much. It was still hard to see.  

His brain was running a mile a minute, thinking of every possible escape route but all it could think of was: danger, danger, danger, run, run, run. 

Now, he could’ve been smart about it. Remained calm, analyze, adapt, and overcome. 

But he’s exhausted, injured and so, so cold. 

Instead, Stiles does what he does best.

Be dumb, talk stupid.  

“Nice place you got here, but I think I overstayed my visit. Where to the nearest exist, asshole?!” he croaked out through chattering teeth.  

Smart move Stiles. Real helpful.

The thing stops moving closer, and Stiles can make out a faint outline of… whatever it is. The light in the room cast a large, dark shadow over the mass that towered over him. 

People say that there are two instincts a person has when it comes to danger: Fight or flight. Stiles has been through countless dangerous scenarios, so he had a good idea of what his instinct is and that is to fight. Fight until your nails are broken and leave everything behind. 

But the next moment that thing decided to step closer, showing its face in the light. Stiles remembers that there’s a third instinct. 

Freeze. 

His heart thuds in his ears and his entire body seizes up. The thing’s eyes were all Stiles could see, everything else faded away.

Before his mom died Stiles was really into anything relating to nature. Animals, trees, rocks, you name it, Stiles has read about it. Watching nature shows is where Stiles learned how cruel and just the animal kingdom is. There is a hierarchy, an order to keep healthy ecosystems working. It’s cruel and unfair but it’s the circle of life. 

Natural science has shown that when there is prey, there is always a predator. The higher up on the food chain one is, the less you have to worry about becoming someone else's meal. 

 Staring into this creature’s eyes Stiles could see, that this entire time he was this creature’s prey. 

It was a hunter. Wearing him down bit by bit and now, it’s got him right where it wants him. Alone, exhausted, and weak . 

Stiles doesn’t remember what happened after that.

Whoever found him is gently shaking his shoulders now, and turning his weak head to look at them, but he doesn’t recognize their face. He blinks rapidly, trying to get rid of the blurriness to see who it is, but it’s getting harder to focus. 

The shaking makes more tears fall from his eyes. He lets out a heavy sob and tries to weakly push them away, curling up more when another spasm racked through his body. The person mumbles something, immediately stopping their fussing. 

“-iles, Stiles!” they say softly but it still pierces his skull. “I’ll be right back! I’m gonna-.” 

Stiles didn’t hear anything anything else after that. Dark spots danced in front of his blurry vision. He shuts his eyes, fading into darkness. 

—----------

Danny POV:

“You speak of it to no one.” 

Danny swallowed at the intense look in the Sheriff’s eyes. 

He didn’t understand exactly what the Sheriff was talking about, but he’s heard that tone of voice enough times from his mom to know that he shouldn’t ask questions. 

He watches the Sheriff turn and hesitant for a minute before closing his eyes and opening them than continues along the path. Danny stays behind for a beat before following. 

The sun was reaching a lower point in the sky when the two arrived at their destination. 

The old Hale house. 

What are we doing here? 

Danny gazes upon the skeletal remains of what used to be a gorgeous home. He doesn’t remember much about what happened, but he does remember attending the funeral. Everyone in town did. He remembered his mom’s wrecked face and her breaking down in tears when they first heard the news. 

He remembers the kind, brown eyes and a pearly white smile of a young woman as she held his tiny hand and walked him down to the park. 

He has flashes of someone picking him up when he fell asleep on the couch, tucking him into bed and saying goodnight, and her not being his mom. 

He remembers asking his mom why Laura looked so sad, seeing her hold back sobs, trying to be strong for her little brother who stood emotionless, too numb from grief to express anything. 

He remembers asking why hasn’t Laura been around lately, and when she was going to come back. 

He knows of stories that people used to tell about the Hales. How kind they were, and that their loss was a blow to the community of Beacon Hills. There wasn’t one person who didn’t respect them and love them (well that was a lie, everyone had enemies). 

But he doesn’t understand why they were here, at a place where a violent tragedy happened. 

They made their way up to the charred doorway, and Danny couldn’t help but be amazed that the house was even still standing, it looked more haunted up close.

“Ok, Danny,” grunts the Sheriff, forcing the front door open. It gives way with a squeal, rusty and stiff hinges not wanting to give up the burned memories inside. 

“There is something you need to understand before we go inside,” The Sheriff turned to look at him. “Stiles… he’s been involved in some… dangerous activities…”

What? Dangerous? Since when? Why is the Sheriff so calm about this? Danny stood confused, racking his brain for anything that could validate what the Sheriff was saying. 

“ Now, I’ve told him before I didn’t want him involved in such things but of course this is Stiles, he does what he wants.” 

“What kinds of activities, sir?” Danny couldn’t help but ask. 

“Well…”

The Sheriff suddenly looked around fast, seemingly hearing something that Danny didn’t.

Danny was instantly on edge. The nice, warm day felt ten degrees colder somehow. The Sheriff placed a steady hand on his pistol, unclipping the holster. He walked in front of Danny surveying their surroundings. 

Everything stood still for just a moment before out of the tree line stumbled Scott… and friends. 

“Jesus Christ Scott!” barked the Sheriff, who instantly took his hand off his gun and placed it over his heart. “What the hell do you think you’re doing out here?!” 

Danny glared as the last of the ragtag group made their way out of the tree line, each one with wide eyes as if they didn’t expect to run into Danny and the Sheriff. 

“We’re out looking for Stiles sir,” explained Scott. Danny took a closer look as the group made their way towards them. They each looked exhausted, clearly being outside for a while. Danny had never seen Lydia look as messy as she did now. Tank-top and shorts covered in nature from the trek and sweat curling her red hair. 

She looked more put together than the rest, however. Erica’s blonde hair was wild, and mascara bled along her eyes as she sweated from the heat. Issac looked exhausted, face-red, and breathing heavily. Boyd looked alright apart from the stains along his pits, while Allison had a stain down the back and neck of her red t-shirt. Jackson’s knees were covered in dirt. Scott looked the worst out of all of them. He looked like he had been running non-stop for miles through the Preserve, cheeks slashed with mud and shirt almost completely covered in sweat and dirt. His shoes were caked in mud and his hair lay flat against his forehead. 

Danny was about to speak but the Sheriff beat him to it. Rushing down the steps, he stood in front of Scott eagerly. 

“Well?” breathed out the Sheriff. “Did you, ya know, find anything?”

Scott looked at the Sheriff and then at Danny. “We didn’t find anything, his scent- I mean there is just no trace of him.” 

Scent? No trance? When did Scott know how to track someone?

The Sheriff balked at that. “Do you think…” 

Scott and the rest looked nervously at each other as they side-eyed Danny. They started talking amongst each other in low voices. Too low that Danny couldn’t hear from his place in front of the door.

They were all hiding something, something to do with Stiles and whatever happened to him. He was getting angry now by all the secrets, no pissed. 

His memory flashed through his mind of sitting next to Stiles in Math class. The devastated look on his face whenever he turned slightly and caught sight of the giggling group of people in the back and Danny couldn’t help but see how fast they stopped when they noticed Stiles staring. 

He couldn’t help but urge Stiles every lunch period to eat anything, but his refusal was persistent. Danny couldn’t help but glare at the group of people the next period who seemed unbothered that their “friend” was thinner than his 5’10 frame should be. 

Danny feels the burn of the text messages from Stiles of him insisting that he was fine, even when it was clear he wasn’t from the bags under his eyes. 

These problems always seem to stem from one source but Danny could never get anything from Stiles to confirm. He just had a hunch, a VERY good hunch. 

And now here they stand. Acting like they care.

Whatever they had to say could potentially help find Stiles and he wanted to know. He was hot, sweaty, and anxious that his friend had been missing for too long at this point and the last people he wanted to see were all in one place, keeping something from him and he was done with the games. 

“Ok, What the FUCK is going on?” Everyone turned to look at Danny. Startled by his outburst. 

“Listen, Danny,” it was Scott. He flinched when Danny swiftly turned his sharp glare on him. “I know that you are worried about Stiles, but maybe it’s best if you head home, we can take it from here.” 

“Fuck you, Scott,” Danny snarled, coming from off the stoop and towards the group, who all took a step back from the hostility that was radiating from him. 

“Fuck all of you. My best friend has been missing for almost an entire day possibly more and you’re telling me to just ‘go home’ like I haven’t been losing my mind that something horrible has happened to him?” 

“Ok, calm down,” said Scott, matching Danny’s aggressive tone defensively. “We don’t know if anything bad happened yet-” 

“Calm Down!” Danny seethed. “Calm DOWN!” Danny threw his hands up into the air. “I’ve been trying to stay calm this entire goddamn time, and now all of you are saying to not bother! When it’s obvious that you know something I don’t!”

 “And why do you care now? Why do you care now that something possibly has happened to him, when he’s been suffering for months at this point?!” Danny growled at Scott, then looked into the eyes of each person in the group. He was vaguely aware of the Sheriff stepping behind him, watching the scene with wide eyes, trying to piece together what happened to make Danny so angry. 

“Danny of course we care! We’re his friends! His pa-.” 

Danny laughed, hard. Unbelievable. “His friends?! From what I can gather for the last few months you guys haven’t even looked in his direction! Let alone talk to him!” 

Danny breathed hard, “If you really care for Stiles then you would’ve seen him getting thinner. You would’ve seen the bags under his eyes grow darker, and you would’ve noticed him get quieter. You didn’t. And now he’s missing and something terrible could’ve happened to him or worse he did something terrible to himself. ” His voice grew softer as he reached the end of his rant. Eyes wide at his own admission. 

It has been a thought in the back of his mind since the start of this whole fiasco. But he didn’t want to admit it out loud. Too afraid of it becoming a reality.

Danny secretly kicks himself more for not trying harder to get him to open up. Stiles is a good actor, but he can see that he is far from ok. 

He’s scared out of his mind that it’s a possibility that Stiles could’ve done something to himself, and he wasn’t prepared for that. 

He couldn’t lose another friend. He side-eyed Jackson, who was purposely not looking in his direction and hiding behind Lydia slightly. 

Everyone had different ranges of emotions at this confession. Erica bit her lip hard, while Boyd stood steadfast, not giving away anything. Issac made a pained sound, and Jackson shuffled his feet, glaring at the ground. Lydia crossed her arms tightly, looking straight at Danny, a look in her eyes that he couldn’t decipher. Allison covered her mouth in shock, pinching her eyebrows together in worry. Scott’s face looked haunted like he didn’t think his ‘friend’ would do something like that. 

None of them wanted to acknowledge that what they did affected Stiles enough that he could’ve hurt himself. 

What did they do? Why didn’t I try and talk more to Stiles about what happened between them? Why, why why why why?!

Danny heard an intake of breath from the Sheriff and he turned to find him staring at Scott, finally putting together that Scott hadn’t been a friend to Stiles in a long time. 

The silence from everyone rang out for a minute, no one wanted to speak. To admit that they were in the wrong. To apologize. 

But it isn’t me that they should be apologizing to. 

Danny huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and taking in every one of their faces. He should’ve felt vindicated by the clear guilt that showed, but instead, he felt hollow. It wasn’t as satisfying because the person who should have seen it wasn't here to witness the display. 

Finally, someone spoke, surprisingly it was Boyd. 

And what came out of his mouth was even more surprising, no it was unbelievable. 

“Danny,” he started. “We’re werewolves or most of us are. For the past year and a half, we’ve been fighting supernatural beings to try and keep Beacon Hills safe. Stiles could possibly be in danger from some supernatural entity, but we can’t figure out where he is or what it is because he never left his house according to his scent.” 

Instant sounds of protest rose amongst the group as Danny stood and processed what was just said. 

He couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up from his chest, and once it started it didn’t stop. 

“You got to be kidding me,” he wheezed out, getting light-headed. “That’s the WORST lie anyone has ever told me!” 

But as he wiped tears from his eyes he noticed that none of them were joining in on the laughter. Slowly, Danny realized that they were serious. 

“Oh my god you’re serious,” Danny turned to look at the Sheriff, a grim look on his face. “Holy shit, you ARE serious!” 

Suddenly, Danny remembers the books littering all over Stiles’s room. The way he knows so much about supernatural folklore. The fact that he seemed to know more than he should. The faraway look in his eyes he gets. He’s involved in some dangerous activities. 

Oh god, it made perfect sense, but at the same time, it didn’t. Werewolves? In Beacon Hills? 

Maybe his mom was always right. He couldn’t help but stare at Jackson. Was he a werewolf? Wait, no, am I ACTUALLY considering this? He stood there and gaped. This had to be some sort of joke. 

“Danny,” Lydia spoke up, breaking him away from his thoughts. “It’s the truth. Stiles was in our group for a while, actually since the beginning, but…”

Allison chimed in, placing a hand on Lydia’s shoulder, “We made a mistake, a horrible mistake.” 

“What mistake?” the Sheriff asked in a low voice, looking between everyone. They all shifted their eyes toward each other, eventually landing on Scott who looked the most uncomfortable under the Sheriff’s gaze. 

“Scott,” The Sheriff questioned, authority clear in his voice. 

“We,” Scott breathed out. “We came to a decision a few months ago to… to kick Stiles out of the pack.” 

Nobody said anything for a minute. It took Danny a few seconds to catch up, still reeling from Boyd’s reveal.

Then a voice spoke. 

“You what.” 

Danny didn’t get scared easily, but the venom that filled the Sheriff’s voice sent shivers down his spine, making him step back. 

He watched with wide eyes as the Sheriff wasted no time striding up to Scott and grabbing the front of his dirt-stained shirt, shoving, no, throwing him hard enough to the nearest tree that it rattled from impact. Danny winced in unwanted sympathy but noticed how it didn’t seem to hurt Scott who looked at the Sheriff with huge brown puppy-dog eyes, clearly scared of his reaction. 

“You did WHAT!” The Sheriff snarled, fists still pushing Scott against the tree, shaking him a bit. 

“I’m sorry!” Scott shouted, fear clear in his voice. “I made a mistake! I’m sorry!” 

Danny didn’t understand why getting ‘kicked out of the pack’ was so devastating, but if context clues gave anything away it meant that Scott and the group abandoned Stiles. 

And that just made everything so much worse. 

No wonder Stiles has been so depressed. All of his friends just up and left him, leaving him with no one else apart from his dad. Which, since he’s the Sheriff, is gone a lot already. Meaning that Stiles was all alone. For months.

Danny had a suspicion, his gut sinking, that there was more to the story than just that. If they have been dealing with dangerous supernatural activities for over a year now, what other things have they encountered? What have they seen? What did they leave Stiles to deal with all alone? 

 He felt nauseous at that thought. Losing Jackson was hard enough, and that was over a course of several months. But losing all his friends out of nowhere . God, he couldn’t imagine. 

The Sheriff didn’t seem satisfied with Scott’s pathetic apology, and shoved him to the mud-covered ground, standing over him as the rest of the group cowered away from the display. 

“If my son wasn’t currently missing then you would’ve gotten worse,” The Sheriff spat. “But he is, and he’s my top priority right now. You all -” He spins around, leaving Scott lying where he is. “Are going to tell me everything that has happened once this is over. But right now we need to find Stiles.” 

Boyd, the only brave one in the group, stepped forward and became the point person launching into strategy mode so quickly it gave Danny whiplash from the shift in tone.

“While we weren’t able to track Stiles with scent, we were able to scour almost every inch of Beacon Hills and figured out that the best places to move to are the ones with the most supernatural activity,” he explained. Face neutral but Danny could tell he wanted to waver under the Sheriff’s intense stare. “We are trying to gather clues at this point since we’re working off of nothing.”

“We had the same idea,” said the Sheriff. Danny was amazed by his ability to prioritize. All Danny wanted to do was rip Scott and the group apart. “I don’t know much about this sort of stuff but I figured here is a good place to start.”

Lydia stepped forward, “Do you have anything we could work with to narrow down anything? Like has Stiles been acting particularly strange?” 

Of course, he’s been heartbroken because you all abandoned him. 

Danny shook his head at those thoughts. 

“He’s been… depressed to say the least,” Danny explained. “Not eating, not sleeping...” 

“He’s been holing himself up either in his room or the library,” continued the Sheriff. “He only really leaves to go running along the preserve or to hang out with Danny.” 

The group’s faces looked guiltier and guiltier the more they explained Stiles’s behaviour the last few months. Scott who finally got up from his spot on the ground, hugged his arms around himself when Danny explained the panic attack Stiles’s suffered from a few months back. 

“It was like he was being chased by something,” recounted Danny, remembering in vivid detail the look on Stile’s face when he ran into him that day. “I’ve never seen him so freaked out before.” 

“Did Stiles ever tell you anything about what caused the attack,” asked Lydia, eyes calculating. It was scary how fast her brain worked. No wonder Stiles liked her, they were the same in that aspect.

“We never talked about it,” sighed Danny, feeling that ever-present guilt of not trying harder. “It’s quite hard to get him to talk about anything that’s bothering him.”

The Sheriff snorted, “Understatement of the century, that boy would take his problems to the grave but do anything to help with yours.” 

The Sheriff ran a hand down his face, “God, he’s so much like his mom sometimes.” 

The group visibly perked at that. It was rare to hear stories about Mrs. Stilinski. 

It was well known that her last moments on earth weren’t the most pleasant due to her sickness, and the last two Stilinski's kept her memory close to their hearts. Private and safe. 

“She was always a ‘put everyone else first’ personality,” he explained fondly. “Even when she got sick she preferred the doctors attend to the other patients before coming to her.”

The Sheriff closed his eyes, a small smile on his face before it became sad. “Sometimes I think that tendency rubbed off on Stiles because he spent so much time with her when he was younger, especially when she was in the hospital.” 

Erica, who was unusually quiet this whole time finally spoke up, “He was there when she died right?” 

The Sheriff startled at that question. “Yes,” he admitted. “It was… it was hard, but he made it through, he always does.” 

Erica nodded at that, squaring her shoulders. Danny now noticed the tension she carried and the way she tightened her lips trying to keep her emotions in check. 

“Ok,” Lydia spoke up, breaking the uncomfortable silence that washed over the group. “I think we should all split up. There is no use standing around, daylight is failing.” 

Sure enough, the sun was finally becoming dimmer, its yellow rays fading into a burnt orange against the greenery signaling that night was fast approaching.

“I think a group of us should keep scouring the woods, while the other two search the house for clues and another go to the Nemeton.” 

Nemeton?? Never mind. That’s a question for later.

“Me, Erica, and Boyd can search the woods some more,” Issac piped up. 

“Great, I was thinking Jackson, Allison and I go to the Nemeton while Scott, the Sheriff, and Danny stay and search the house,” Lydia ordered, decision final in her voice. 

Great. Danny threw a glare at Scott. We have to deal with him. 

Scott still stood pathetically hunched over himself, refusing to make eye contact with either Danny or the Sheriff. 

The Sheriff grunted, unwillingly agreeing since neither Danny nor the Sheriff knew where the Nemeton was (Danny wasn’t even sure what it was), and Scott barely had enough brain cells on a good day. 

Lydia went off on a bit of a tangent explaining the plan and thought process of it. But to Danny, it went through one ear and out the other since he just wanted to get started on the search before it became too dark outside to see. He will get a proper explanation about all this supernatural stuff once Stiles is home safe and sound. 

Finally, all three groups split up after deciding that they would all meet up in one hour. 

Danny, Scott, and the Sheriff walked up to the open front door of the Hale residence. Silence covered the group as they each focused on the task at hand. 

—----

Upon entering the house Danny was overcome by the sheer desolation of the place. It was an empty shell of what was once a beautiful home. Trances of distant happy memories echo along the walls, now covered in a layer of ash. 

The foyer was huge with staircases curling towards each other leading to the upper levels. The decaying wooden floor sagged underneath their weight as they cautiously made their way into the building. 

The Sheriff didn’t hesitant to go into leadership mode.

“Alright, this place isn’t the safest structurally, so be careful,” he explained, mostly pointed at Danny. Scott stood silent. “The fastest way to do this is if we split up, Scott,” he finally turned to him, and Scott instantly perked up, “You take the main level while I take the upper since it’s the most unstable and I don’t want you kids getting hurt. Danny, are you alright with taking the lower?”

Danny found it funny how the Sheriff gave him a choice and not Scott. He didn’t mention it and nodded. 

“Good, in 15 we meet up here and report what we find. Call, shout, or scream if ANYTHING happens ok?” 

At that, they all split up to go their respective directions. It took him a minute to find the door that leads downstairs and once he did, he couldn’t help the shudder that ran through him. 

Basements always freaked him out. It takes a lot of courage just to go into his own, but this one felt like a bad omen. Something horrible happened down there, and Danny was about to find out what. 

The stairs were creaky but held on. He cautiously put one foot in front of the other, slowly making his way down, mindful that they could collapse under his weight at any moment. He couldn’t help but notice how the walls were blacker here than upstairs. He racked his brain trying to remember everything he heard about the Hale fire, but couldn’t past the basics. 

The fire started late one night while the family was asleep. Laura and Derek were the only survivors along with their uncle who ended up in a coma. There’s no direct cause of the fire, ruled as a freak accident. 

He thinks that there is one detail he is missing but can’t remember what. 

He finally reaches the bottom, sighing with relief that the stairs held on. It was a miracle honestly, but he still needed to get back up. 

He didn’t focus on that detail and instead whipped out his phone and turned on the flashlight. Cracks of fading sunlight shone through where the walls disintegrated but not enough to light the way. 

The flashlight did little and made everything creepier. 

God, why did I say yes to the basement of all places. Focus Danny, this is for Stiles. 

He breathed deeply for courage and made his way through the labyrinth that was the Hale basement. Just like the rest of the house it was huge and obviously well loved before the fire. 

A melted dart board could be seen along the wall and burnt remains of furniture littered it. The outline of a bar was visible and glass littered the ground where alcohol bottles exploded due to the pressure from the flames.

But Danny could tell that the place used to be cozy. A place reserved for the young ones to venture down to during family gatherings to play, or a designated hang out spot with friends. 

It separated into several other rooms. The one that he was in was like another living room. He wandered around, keeping his eye out for anything that screamed ‘clue.’ But if he was honest to himself he didn’t know what he was looking for. 

The longer he stayed down there it felt like the air was slowly suffocating him. Memories that aren’t his own flash through his mind of joyful faces playing hide-n-seek, movie marathons on the couch, and tea-parties held exclusively through invite based on the set-up in the middle of the room. The burnt remains of stuff animals still sat, waiting for tea that will never be served.  

He bit his lip hard, blinking away tears, trying to reel his imagination in. But all of it just feels so real. 

Suddenly a wave of vertigo hits him, almost knocking him to his knees. He accidentally drops his phone, flashlight side down and when he bends over to pick it up another wave hits him. He kneels down this time, hoping the feeling would go away. 

He reaches forward towards his phone, and as he does something cold grabs his hand.

—----- 

He freezes, fear overtaking his body. 

He can’t look up, breath suddenly coming out in frosted breaths. The coldness overtakes him, another wave of vertigo passes through. 

He feels hands all over him, pulling his shirt and pushing him upwards. He unconsciously grips onto his phone.

 He can’t do much but obey the guiding hands. Not understanding what’s happening. He hears whispers against his ears urging him forward and for some reason he finds himself relaxing. The fear seeped from his body. He doesn’t understand it, he should be afraid, but he just isn’t. 

Whatever is guiding him isn’t a threat. He doesn’t know how he knows this as he can’t see anything in the darkness of the basement, but he just knows. They swiftly navigate through the basement with ease, and Danny can barely register where it’s taking him. 

Here, he-here, hurry. 

Not- much- time- left. 

That forces him to pick up the pace. It leads him through several doors ( how big is this place) and all of a sudden it just stops. No more hands, no more whispers. He stands in front of a door, bolted shut and radiating malice. The walls here are the blackest when he shone his flashlight on it. His hands shook slightly when it reveals something wet dripping from the walls. It looks like blood. The smell making him gag slightly.  

All at once he remembers the last detail of the fire. 

Most of the family perished in the basement, behind a locked door. 

Bodies burned to a crisp. 

“And investigators don’t know why,” he whispered out loud. 

He had the urge to run. Away from this place, but whoever lead him here lead him for a reason. He took a deep breath and firmly gripped onto the handle, trying not to shudder at it’s coldness. 

It took some effort and finally he pushed his way inside. He cautiously shined his flashlight in and gasped. 

“Stiles?! OH MY GOD!”

Chapter Text

“You know … this place could use a bit of color.” 

He sighed fondly, dropping his book onto his lap, and turned his body to the person leaning precautiously back on the wooden kitchen chair, staring intently at the plain eggshell walls. His homework forgotten on the table in front of him. 

‘15 minutes of silence,’ he thought to himself, tapping one finger against the rough pages. ‘That’s a new record for him.’ 

“Stiles it’s a rental,” he explained, marking his place in the book. He won’t be needing it anymore. “I can’t really repaint the place.”

“No, I mean just adding some… pizzazz ya know? It’s depressing walking into here,” Stiles motioned towards the singular photo hanging on the wall. A picture of a wolf that he found at a thrift store. The wolf tore at its shirt in a dramatic fashion. He didn’t understand the meaning behind the photo. Stiles, however, found it hilarious. “But it matches your ‘big bad wolf’ persona. Very stoic. Very monotonous. Just like you’re personality.” 

He chuckled, standing up from the couch and approaching the younger man. Grabbing the back of the chair and pushing him right side up. Brown eyes met his and he could count the moles that litter Stiles’s face. A small mischievous smile graced his lips as he tipped his head back to look up at him. 

“What do you have in mind?” 

The smile grew and it was almost blinding. The young man immediately launched into an enthusiastic rant. He nodded along, moving around the kitchen in a practiced routine. Replacing Stiles’s papers inside his backpack, heating the tea kettle, and grabbing two mugs. By the time the kettle is done, Stiles is silent again. 

He poured two cups of green tea. "Honey?" He asked.

"Yes dear?" Stiles responded, he could hear the cheeky grin in his voice. "But yes please." Derek chuckled and stirred in the golden amber into Stiles's mug.

When he turned around to approach the silent man he almost stopped by the intense stare that met his. 

“What? Something wrong?” 

“Why do you do it?”

Derek furrowed his eyes at that statement, placing the tea with the honey in front of the boy and sitting down across from him. Sipping on his tea without honey. 

“What do you mean?”

Stiles was quiet for a beat, picking at the peeling polish on the table’s surface. 

“Why do you put up with me?” 

He startled a bit. “Stiles…” 

“I mean, when we first met we didn’t get along,” Stiles ran a hand through his hair, it’s grown longer giving it a slight wave, different from the buzzcut he sported, making look older, more put together. 

"I think we even hated each other, and now you’re making me tea and listening to me rant. I mean, Scott doesn’t even put up with my rants anymore and he’s my best friend. But you, you start them!  You encourage them even, and then you pick up after me when I leave a mess and you make me tea with honey- I didn’t even know I liked tea with honey, but you do and I just…why?” 

The boy slumped over, one hand rubbing at his face. 

He sat there silent. Observing the young man in front of him. The messed up hair where he ran his hand through it, causing it to stick up in awkward angles, the moles that littered his neck and cheeks, and the slight upturn of his nose. Stiles bit his lip, causing him to swallow once. Heat lit up in his cheeks when he realized that he was staring for too long . Stiles squirmed in his seat, waiting for his answer. 

He averted his gaze down to the raptly cooling cup of tea. The tea swirled in the warm water, dancing when he raised the bag by it’s string up and down. Mixing it slightly as he tapped the side, trying to think of an answer that could satisfy him. 

Thoughts raced through his head. Should he tell him it’s because Stiles is the only person that made him feel safe since the fire? That Stiles is the one person that isn’t afraid to challenge him? Keep him in check? Make sure he’s ok? That Stiles became the single most important person in his life, someone that he’s come to care for deeply and dear he say…? 

“I…” 

…love? 

He opened and closed his mouth. Words stuck in his throat. 

“Well? Don’t keep me waiting Sourwolf.” 

He tried to speak. Sweat pooled down his neck, the words won’t - no- couldn’t come out. 

He strained, fighting against an invisible force that was keeping him from speaking. He looked up at Stiles, who had his head tilted to the side, waiting for his answer. 

He reached up to his throat, trying to signal that something was wrong. But Stiles’s face slowly morphed. His lips turned down and his eyes furrowed. 

“It’s ok, Derek. I understand.” 

‘No! NO! 

“I just wish you could’ve said it.” 

With that, Stiles got up and moved towards the door. The scene blended, the paint on the walls peeled as it tilted towards Stiles walking towards the exit. 

Derek tried to reach out, but now his hands didn’t move, his throat tight, almost choking. He was rooted to the spot on the kitchn seat, watching Stiles walk away. 

Stiles opened the door, and Derek really began to panic now, straining against the invisible force that held his body down. 

Don’t leave please, don’t leave PLEASE DON- 

“I didn’t leave.” 

Derek froze, the legs scrapping as it slowly turned towards the exit. The door was open, Stiles hand on the frame as he faced away from Derek. The outside was dark, nothing was beyond that door. 

“You did.” 

He blinked, and he was the one standing in the doorframe. He breathed hard, chest heaving, as he looked into the dark abyss that spread in front of him. 

“And you didn’t look back,” Stiles whispered softly into his ear, his slender hands slid up his back gently, before - push. 

He was falling. 

A scream finally ripped from his throat as he plummeted into the inky darkness. 

—----

Derek jolted from sleep, sweat caking his brow. 

His hands shook as he brushed through his sweaty dark locks. He hastily pushed the gray covers off and stumbled towards his bathroom. He fumbled for the light switch, and bathed the small room in warm light. Derek stepped towards the sink, turned on the faucet. With shaking hands he splashed cool water to his face, breathing in through his nose and out his mouth. 

In and out. In and out. 

Slowly, his breathing evened out and his hands slowed to a slight tremble. 

It was just a dream. 

He splashed the frigid water once more onto his face, droplets cascading down his forehead and nose and dripping into the vortex caused by the waterfall from the faucet. His hands twitched on the handle as he turned it off and blindly grabbed the black, scratchy hand towel. Rubbing it across his face and just holding it there, breathing in it’s fabric, finding slight comfort in the musty smell. 

His face was still slightly damp when he exited the bathroom, gingerly stepping over crumpled up covers on the floor, and made his way to the door, and into the hallway. 

The apartment wasn’t as big as the loft was back in Beacon Hills. Something modest that suited him and Peter just fine. He quietly passed his uncle’s doorway, careful of the squeaky floorboard right in front of it. 

In no time he made it to the small kitchenette, and to the stove. The knob ticked a couple of times before whoosh, the flame burst to life. He shook the tea kettle slightly, satisfied to hear water slosh against the sides, and placed it onto the stove grate. 

Derek stared at the flames dancing around the kettle, his mind trying his hardest to not think back to the dream. Eventually, the dancing flames started to blur and he rubbed at his eyes. 

“Rough one huh?” 

Derek whirled around, heart beat picking up as he glared at his uncle who was smirking at him from his place in the entrance. 

“What was a rough one?” He stated as casually as he could, hoping to ignore his moment of carelessness. 

“The nightmare,” Peter made his way towards the cabinet, grabbing two mugs and placing it down onto the counter next  to the stove. 

Derek stared at the mugs, avoiding eye contact. “Not a nightmare.” 

“Uh-huh,” mocked Peter slightly, grabbing the kettle before it could start to whistle. “Honey?” Yes dear? Derek's lips quirked up at the silent joke. 

“Yes please.” 

They both made their way towards the modest living room. A large window covered  the wall, giving them a clear view of the city before them. The bright lights twinkled into the room, bathing them both as they sat on their respected seats, sipping quietly while listening to the cars pass by. 

“You could just call him you know.” 

Derek blinked, setting his mug down onto his lap, the warm heat that radiated from it grounded him. 

“And say what?” He stared at the city lights, they slightly blurred and he blinked to clear his tired eyes. 

Peter hummed slightly. Taking a sip of his own tea. 

“Check up on him,” He waved his hand through the air, pointing up one finger. “Ask him about classes, or better yet-” He took another sip. “-Apologize.” 

Derek tapped against his rapidly cooling mug once, twice, three time. Bringing it back up to his lips. He didn’t say anything. 

“It might make you feel better,” continued Peter. “Stop the nightmares.” 

“Wasn’t a nightmare,” growled Derek. Finally looking at his uncle. 

Peter tilted his head, and raised one eyebrow. Clearly not convinced. They stared at each other for a bit, before Peter sighed, draining the rest of his cup and standing up. 

“Whatever you say,” He made his way towards the kitchen, dropping his mug into the sink. Derek stared out the window, and couldn't stop what he blurted out next. 

“It was more of a memory then a nightmare.” 

Derek could hear Peter stop momentarily. Silence stretched through the air. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" 

"Not really."

"...." 

“I’m going back to bed, you should too.” 

Derek listened to his uncle walk back to his room, tapping against his mug. A siren passed by on the street below, lighting up the apartment with the red and blue flashes. Derek, closed his eyes, trying to calm his mind while listening to it disappear into the distance. 

You could call him. 

Derek opened his eyes and looked towards his phone that was charging in the port on the side table. The dark screen taunted him, because he knew beyond the passcode protection laid hundreds of  texts and voicemails from only one person he was trying to avoid thinking about right now. He grabbed at the phone, turning it on and scrolling through.

They were comforting the texts. The updates from Stiles about his life or random moments grounded him a lot. But he always stopped himself from texting back. 

His decision to leave Beacon Hills was the best one he made since…he couldn’t remember.

He was drowning, he needed an out and there was nothing left for him there. His home was burned, Kate was dead, and his ‘pack’ didn’t need him as an alpha. Choosing Scott over him. It didn’t take too much convincing to get Peter to leave, his bag was already packed long before he ripped out Kate’s throat. 

But Stiles was the only thing linking him to that town. He couldn’t bare to say good-bye. Knowing one look at those big brown eyes would be enough to get him to stay. He was a coward he knew that. But he was fine with that. He told himself that he wouldn’t get attached, that Stiles needed to live his own life, pave his own path. He didn’t need Derek getting in his way. 

At the beginning the texts were frequent. Even the littlest thing as a squirrel running up a tree and Stiles making a joke about wolves and squirrels would have Derek running to phone. It was kind of pathetic how much he looked forward to each one. Anxiously waiting for more updates and stupid jokes that made him snort. 

But lately, they were coming in less frequently.

Sometimes though he wondered if that was the right thing to do. To distance himself from the one person that understood him, if he was just falling back into old patterns that led to this mess in the first place. 

Derek shook his head, and began reading the most recent ones. 

Friday 2:15 a.m. 

From Stiles: 

Hey Sourwolf! 

How are you doing? I bet sulking somewhere. 

Anyways, just checking up on ya! My Dad is currently working the night shift so I’m playing video games all night long! Playing the newest Assasin’s Creed! It’s awesome! I honestly should be studying for a test, but whatever! It’s Friday night! And Scott is skipping game night, again… But no worries! More snacks for me! Give me a text or call whenever! 

Saturday 3:00 p.m. 

From Stiles:

DEREK! You would NOT BELIEVE WHAT JUST HAPPENED!

I was just walking down the street minding my own damn business when this jerk flew past me in his stupid black camaro and splashed the ever living shit out of me! At first I thought it was you, but he had this stupid bumber sticker that said ‘If you don’t like my driving, take it up with the complaint department’ with a picture of a trash can. 

In all honestly, I should get you that sticker. 

But I’m soaked head to toe in dirty street water, and the worse part is the library books I got are also wet. I don’t know what to tell Dolores. I’m so fucked. 

But enought about me! How are you doing? Anything new? 

Don’t be afraid to text me! I know how much you hate talking. 

Sunday 4:00 a.m 

Hey Derek, 

I honestly don’t know if these texts are getting to you, but so far I haven’t received a message that the number disconnected or something so I’m guessing they are. 

Just…let me know if you’re doing ok. 

I’m doing ok, I think. I… haven’t talked to Scott in a while. He’s been more distant lately, but it could be because of school. Finals are coming up and he does need to focus on school work. 

Anyways, that reminds me I have to work on an essay for science, ugh. 

Please text me whenever! It would nice to hear from you…

Wednesday 6:30 p.m.

Hey, sorry it’s been a while. Somethings have been…stressful. But I’m ok. I’ll be ok. Are you ok?

Text me please. 

Tuesday 2:00 a.m. 

I realy miss you sourwolf

Tuesday 2:01 a.m. 

Im srry, for whaever I dd. If I was ever anoying or whateever. Sry,.

Tuesday 2:01 a.m. 

Ignorme, just ben stressed. Pls text me whenver youre ready. 

The last one tore him apart, every time he read it it took everything inside him not to respond. 

But what if something happened? What if he needs you? 

No, he’s fine. This is Stiles. He’s just stressed from exams. He’s fine. Right?

I really miss you sourwolf. 

He tapped against the side of the phone. Slowly, he typed. 

I really miss you too, Stiles. 

He immediately deleted the text. 

Setting the phone down onto the table, he leaned his head into this hands. Sighing loudly into the silence of the apartment. 

Ding! 

He jolted upright, looking at lit up screen of his phone, indicating he got a message. 

He picked up the phone and tapped (maybe a bit too hard) on the screen and entered his passcode. Tapping quickly onto the messages, his heart jumping for joy, before it dropped. Hard. 

—-------------------

Peter was just wrapping himself back up into his sheets, closing his eyes to drift back into dreamland when he heard thunder running towards his room, the door crashed opened with a shattering bang, the drywall shattering at the intensity. He shot up, ready to scold his nephew, but froze. 

Derek stood there, breathing heavily, eyes wild holding his phone up in a death grip. Peter could see the screen slightly cracked. 

“ We need to go back to Beacon Hills. Now.” 

From Scott: 

Hey Derek… I don’t know if this is you’re number anymore, but I’m still trying. I really don’t know how to tell you this, so I’ll get straight to the point. 

Derek… Stiles is in the hospital. Something happened, something bad

 I…I fucked up. 

He’s not doing too good. I don’t know what to do. I’m sorry. 

Please come back.