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Because I'm human

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Stiles stumbled into the dark alley, clutching at his bleeding shoulder. He could hear the wolves growling behind him, their angry snarls and howls of pain were almost deafening. Stiles needed to get back to Scott’s pack, he had to help them, they were outnumbered three to one and without his help…he didn’t want to think about it, but the deep claw marks on his left shoulder throbbed, the pain was indescribable. His blue Captain America t-shirt was soaked through with coppery blood and the side of his neck and hands were stained with the red liquid, still warm and sticky to the touch. Stiles rested his hand against the cool surface of the brick wall. His body ached with a deep pain he hasn’t felt in so long.

 

Stiles knew he needed to get back to the pack, knew he needed to help but he also knew that he would do more harm than good. The wolves would be too busy trying to keep him safe and not enough time watching their own furry behinds.

 

He cast one last long glance over his shoulder at the mouth of the alley, he could still make out Derek’s hulking form slashing at the rogue wolves that had invaded Beacon Hills territory. Before Stiles could change his mind and rush back to the pack a rough hand grabbed his arm. He instinctively tried to pry his arm from the tight grip. Stiles thrashed around, throwing his arms out, trying to attack the dark figure looming over him but he didn’t have the strength left in him to do any damage. Right now he was about as threatening as a five-year-old throwing a tantrum.

 

Another pair of arms grabbed him from behind, pinning his arms to his sides. Stiles tried to struggle, tried to throw his head back and headbutt the asshole who had grabbed him but his wild movements sent waves of pain through his shoulder and side- he was sure there was another set of claw marks across his ribs but until now he hadn’t noticed the pain. The man behind him tightened his grip. His thick, beefy arms felt like they were pressing down on his chest, forcing the breath out of his abused lungs.

 

The first man roughly pushed Stiles head to the side, exposing the pale expanse of his neck. “Stop,” he managed to croak out but was rewarded with a breathless laugh and a rough tug to his hair. He knew what was coming even before the cold tip of the needle pressed against his heated flesh. The cold liquid zapped what little strength he had left. His body felt like jelly and even with the voice in his head screaming at him to get up and fight, he couldn’t, even keeping his eyes open was a task he couldn’t quite manage. The last thing he saw through the bleak darkness was a familiar pair of glowing golden eyes-Isaac.

 

3 days prior.

 

Scott and the rest of his little rag tag group of fur balls have been acting strange, well stranger than usual. Over the past week, it feels like they’ve been freezing him out. Whenever Stiles walks into a room all conversation stops and they just stare at him like how dare this puny human approach us in such a civilized manner and if that wasn’t bad enough last week he and Scott were meant to have a guys night, play Halo and eat enough pizza to re-sink the Titanic but he was left sitting in Scott’s room for three hours, at first he thought maybe his little werewolf buddy was running late or Deaton was making him work late, but when Melissa got home from her shift she looked surprised to see him and asked why he wasn’t at the pack meeting at Derek’s. That right there hit home. Stiles didn’t care that he was the pack human or that he was often the 8th wheel to their little supernatural party but it just plain hurt that his best friend ‘forgot’ to invite him to pack night, which might he add was his idea! Getting together as a pack and bonding had been his idea and now he’s not even invited to that.

 

Stiles stopped, his fork which was piled high with curly fries stopped halfway to his mouth. He just realized something- They’re kicking him out, sure it was a thought before but now that he really thinks about it, it makes sense. They really have gone above and beyond to make sure he knows that he’s no longer welcome in the pack. Did all those sleepless nights Stiles spent researching the newest big bad while he was as high as a kite on Adderall mean nothing? Or all the times he’s saved their lives? Maybe holding up an Alpha werewolf for 2 hours in several feet of freezing water while a half lizard man hisses and claws at you from the edge of the pool means absolutely nothing, and maybe coaching your best friend through his first full moon (which neither of you knew anything about) is somehow meaningless and unimportant.

 

But whatever, it’s not like they completely ditched him to eat lunch alone at their table while they eat somewhere else laughing like a bunch of idiots. Oh, wait they did! They’re sitting two tables over with the lacrosse team, laughing obnoxiously about some stunt Greenberg pulled that pissed Coach off. All the while little Stiles is sitting at the same table that he and Scott claimed as theirs on their first day of Sophomore year. “Stiles?” His head snapped up. He had been so lost in thought he hadn’t noticed Danny was trying to get his attention.
”Hey Dano, Danny boy-”
”Why are you sitting here by yourself? I thought you’d be celebrating with Scott.”

“Celebrating what? Scott’s rise to fame or the fact that he got rid of the pathetic, spastic kid who can’t sit still.” He spat. Stiles didn’t mean to snap at the other teen but he was just so frustrated and angry and Danny just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

 

Danny placed his empty lunch tray down opposite Stiles and regarded him with a look he could only explain as the same look he gets when he presents his dad with a Tofu burger- disbelief and thinly veiled horror. “Wha-I-I wouldn’t call you pathetic or a spastic,” he frowned, his forehead scrunching in a very un-Danny like manner, it wasn’t like him to stutter either. “But-I…was talking about Scott becoming captain?” Of course, Scott made captain, is it too hard for him not to use his freaky little werewolf shit and give us lowly humans a chance? It wasn’t fair. Stiles doesn’t use his abilities to further himself in school and life and yet the wolves do- granted they don’t know that he isn’t exactly human but still, it’s the principle of the matter! “I didn’t know he was,” Stiles started, much calmer this time, “I’m not on the team, remember Danny boy.”

 

Stiles turned his attention back to his food. He pushed around the few curly fries that he hadn’t mercilessly destroyed and smeared a dollop of ketchup through the leafy greens nestled on the edge of his plate, which he's has been trying to avoid since sitting down. “You’re not the only one who didn’t make it onto the team.” That had Stiles head snapping to attention. Danny, the Danny, nice guy extraordinaire, guy who has never said a mean thing in his entire life and goalie since Sophomore year didn’t make it onto the team? God, it didn’t even cross his mind that he wasn’t the only one who got cut. “But you’re Danny!” he exclaimed, like it explained everything, “How could you-I don’t-That’s like-” he was grasping at straws. For once in his life, Stiles just didn’t know what to say. His arms were flapping around like he could just pull words out of the air.

 

“It doesn’t really matter,” Danny shrugged, “I’ll make the team again next year. You still didn’t answer my question though, why aren’t you sitting with Scott?”
”I’d rather not sit with a bunch of assholes who look at me like I’m not even worthy of being a smear of shit on the bottom of their shoes. I’ve been through enough crap these past few months to last me a lifetime,” he gestured to the still healing bruises marrying his red blotched face, “and it’s all because of him, because Scott can’t keep his nose out of everyone else' business and instead of him paying the price for it poor Stiles gets the shit beaten out of him and perfect Scotty over there walks away like nothing happened and the worlds all sunshine and fucking rainbows! Yeah, well everything’s not alright you ass hole!” Stiles could feel his hands violently shaking where they were resting against the top of the cafeteria table. The tips of his fingers tingled with energy and his heart fluttered at the idea of making Scott pay. Deep down he knew he would get in trouble later but right now he didn’t care. With a small flick of his wrist, the lacrosse stick which had been leaning against the side of the table by Scott shifted and with enough force to crack open a humans skull, smacked against the back of the werewolves head.

 

Stiles couldn’t suppress his smirk as a loud bang echoed through out the busy cafeteria. Everyone stopped to stare at Scott, watching as he clutched the back of his head in agony. “What the hell was that?” Danny asked but Stiles ignored him in favor of stuffing his remaining curly fries into his mouth, his appetite suddenly returned.

 

His phone vibrated in his back pocket, probably a warning not to use his powers again. The stupid chip in his arm sends off a signal to his ‘case manager’ (or as Stiles calls him- secret government dude) every time he uses his powers. It’s to ensure he doesn’t do something like rob a bank or murder someone- although right now it was awfully tempting. Stiles ignored his phone and kept shoveling food into his mouth, even after Danny excused himself to check on Scott- cause he’s just that nice of a guy.

 

If the pack wants to kick him out and pretend that he hasn’t on more than one occasion nearly given his life for them well then so be it but they better be prepared to get kicked back because Stiles may be small and not as physically strong as the wolves but he’s not human and he’s not weak.

 

Stiles slowly stood from his seat and slung his backpack over his shoulder, suppressing a winch when it knocked against the still healing bruises that took up the majority of his back. He looked up, meeting Scott’s gaze across the cafeteria and smirked.

 

Bring it on Scotty.

Chapter Text

The cold water felt like heaven against Stiles heated skin. He stared straight ahead at the white tiles, unblinking as cold droplets of water cascaded down his pale back, marking his skin with tiny droplets of freezing water, but despite the cold and the intense shivers raking through his body, Stiles couldn’t pull himself from his thoughts.He still couldn’t believe what he had done, using his powers to seek some sort of emotional revenge against Scott, it wasn’t right and at the time he knew it but he was just so angry and upset and angry about the fact that he was upset and before Stiles could talk himself out of it the damage was already done, he had already hurt Scott. He’s nothing but a monster. A freak.

Stiles slammed his fist against the hard tiles. “Shit-Fuck!” he shook his throbbing hand around as if it could take away the sudden burst of pain. Tiny droplets of blood collected at the surface of his skin and a deep red tinge spread over the surface of his knuckles. Knowing his luck there would be a deep purple bruise come morning.

 

“Stiles?” The sudden sound of his father's deep voice sent his heart into overdrive. He whipped his head around, his eyes as big as saucers. Right there, just passed the glass doors of the shower was his dad, standing in the doorway, one hand on the door handle and the other resting on his hip just above his holster. “Dad!” he most defiantly did not squeal. Stiles scrambled to cover his privates. Both on his hands cupped himself as he tried to angle his body so that his dad wouldn’t cop and eye full of his…stuff but realized too late that the shower doors were glass and thereby see through from all angles. “What are you doing? I’m in the shower!” Naked.
”Oh, relax, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”
”oh my god please leave!”
”OK, OK, I’m leaving. I was just making sure you were still alive, you’ve been in here for nearly forty-five minutes.” With one last chuckle, his dad turned and closed the door behind him. Stiles quickly shut off the water and jumped out of the glass box before his dad could get any more ideas about striking up a conversation with him while he’s still naked.

 

Even once he was fully dressed his body still quivered from the long cold shower he had endured. Time had eluded him, Stiles hadn’t realized he had been in the shower for so long, standing there, lost in his own thoughts.

 

He just felt so…Vulnerable and angry at the fact that he feels so vulnerable. The past couple of months he’s faced a crazy Alpha hell bent on killing them all, a jerk turned Kanima, a resurrected psycho wolf and a crazy old man with a wicked right hook and after all that he’s never felt like this, but after one small incident in the cafeteria and now all he wants to do is curl up on the couch with a cup of hot chocolate and cry into his dad’s shoulder. His dad has too much on his shoulders as is, what with the increase in ‘animal attacks’ and being understaffed at the station, no thanks to Jackson. Stiles doesn’t want to add his own drama to the mix, his dad doesn’t deserve that.

 

The Sheriff was rustling through the fridge when Stiles entered the kitchen. He leaned back against the door frame, knowing full well that his dad would only find half a carton of milk, 2 slices of cheese and an old tube of yogurt that dated back at least three years- if the smell coming from it was anything to go off. “Hey-o Daddy-o!”
His dad jumped back, his hand instinctively going to his empty holster. ”Jesus Christ, Stiles!”
”What’s wrong, don’t like being scared to death?” he asked, “At least you weren’t in the shower, Naked.” The refrigerator door slammed shut with an audible click.
”Oh for the- It’s nothing I haven’t seen before kid. Who do you think cleaned your backside and chased you around the house when you refused to wear pants?”
Stiles bristled as he walked across the small kitchen. ”I was a kid then!” He grabbed a clean glass from beside the sink and filled it with water before sculling it down in a few short gulps. No matter what his dad says, having your parents see you naked is horrifying. He’ll need therapy after this.
”You’re still a kid, kid.”
”Nah uh! I am a mature adult thank you very much!” The sheriff snorted, the sound was magnified thanks to the silence of the kitchen. He quickly turned his back to Stiles and opened the refrigerator door, but Stiles could clearly see his dad's hand clamp down over his mouth to stifle the sound of his laughter. “Thanks a lot, dad, way to make your only child feel loved.” The glass clinked noisily against the bench top.

 

It has been far too long since he’s been able to act like this with his dad, being able to joke around and smile without feeling like the weight of the world is pressing down on his shoulders. “Oh please,” his dad snorted. He closed the refrigerator once again and turned to face Stiles, the corners of his mouth was upturned in a rare smile. “You and maturity do not go together kid, not at all.”
”I could be mature If I wanted to.”
The sheriff wrapped his arms around Stiles' shoulders and mumbled against his hair. ”No, no you could not.” Stiles instinctively lent into the warmth of his dad's embrace. They stood there for a few moments in silence before his dad pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. The Sheriff pulled away, keeping Stiles held at arm's length. “Come on, go put your shoes on. I’ll take us out for burgers.”
”Ok, but you’re driving, it’s the least you can do after scaring me for life. I’ll probably need therapy because of this.”

 

***

 

The diner was busy at this time of night. People of all ages were crammed into the red ‘leather’ booths and hoarding along the counter. The noise was on a whole other level though, it was like everyone was talking at once, their voices getting louder and louder just so that they could be heard by the person sitting right beside them. Stiles glanced up from his milkshake. His dad didn’t seem to have a problem with the noise. He was at ease, leaning back against the booth and sipping leisurely at his diet coke. (It took nearly 20 minutes for Stiles to convince him to get Diet instead of regular coke)

 

John leaned forward, bringing his hands to rest on the table in front of him. “So, how’s school?” Oh great, small talk.
”School’s OK I suppose. Harris is still a jerk, he gave me detention last week because I asked to go to the bathroom, like sorry my bodily functions annoy you- and Coach is busting my balls in gym, he’s making us do rocking climbing until the end of year. I nearly fell to my death yesterday and died. Dead, gone, no more Stiles-”

 

”Here you are boys.” Sandy, their waitress said. She was a kind older woman with graying hair, gentle blue eyes, and a kind smile. Her whole persona reminds Stiles of his own grandmother- which reminds him, he needs to call her soon. Sandy placed Stiles plate down in front of him with a wink.“One double bacon and cheese, extra cheese and no tomato and a side of curly fries and for you handsome, one bland tofu burger with a miserable side salad.” Sandy offered the Sheriff a pitying look and mumbled what sounded like ‘you poor thing’ before she left to attend to other customers. The smell of the bacon alone made Stiles mouth water and the large serving of salted curly fries was like heaven, a salty, deep-fried heaven.

 

Stiles grabbed the ketchup, fully intending to drown his food in sauce but from the corner of his eye he caught John dragging his plate across the table.“What are you doing?” he all but screeched.
John smirked. He lifted the plate off the table and held it away from Stiles grabby hands. ”I’m confiscating this as part of an ongoing investigation.”
”investigation into what?”
”The murder of one Mieczyslaw Stilinski.”
”Oh, haha very funny dad.” Stiles reached for the plate again but his dad moved it further out of his reach. “Real mature dad.” The last time he ate was at least six hours ago and it was only a measly portion of curly fries, he’s starving and his dad is holding his food hostage, this has to be some form of child abuse. The noise in the diner was slowly dying down, several of the surrounding booths were now empty and Sandy and one of the other waitresses were walking around collecting plates and empty glasses while they made small talk with the regulars. John tapped his free hand against his chin in thought for a few moments before he placed the food back down on the table. Stiles instinctively reached for it but his dad was quicker and slapped his hands away with a quiet ‘tsk’. ”This,” he said removing a handful of curly fries from Stiles plate and placing them on his own. “Is compensation for making me eat this crap and this.” John used a fork to shovel some of his salad, tomato's included onto Stiles plate. “Is because there is not a single bit of greenery on your plate.”
”Don’t pretend you care about me eating vegetables.”

 

* Φ *

 

Dinner went by smoothly after that, well as smoothly as can be expected when it comes to the two Stilinski men. “You ready to go kid?”
”Yea, I just gotta hit the can first.”
”OK, I’ll meet you by the car.” John slowly rose from the booth, cringing as his knee gave an audible pop. “Say anything and your walking home.” Stiles held his hands up in surrender even though there were at least a dozen sarcastic comments sitting on the tip of his tongue. Sometimes his dad made it way too easy.

 

The diner was mostly empty now, there was only the odd person scattered around. Stiles stopped in his tracks, his hand raised halfway to the bathroom door. The hair on the back of his neck was standing on end and there was a strange prickling sensation trickling down his spine like he was being watched. He glanced over his shoulders and sure enough sitting in one of the bar stools was Derek ‘Sourwolf’ Hale. His eyes were bleeding red and his upper lip was pulled back in a snarl, revealing pointed canines.

 

Stiles swallowed thickly. Something about the Alpha always manages to make Stiles fear for his life, he doesn’t even have to do anything, just looking at his face is like seeing his own life flash before his eyes.

 

With shaking limbs Stiles pushed open the bathroom door and all but ran inside. He steadied himself against the chipped, white sink and managed to drag in a few wheezed breaths before the door burst open and a pair of rough hands grabbed him by the back of the neck and shoved him face first into the bathroom wall. Pain exploded along his jaw, igniting his old injuries. “Dude, what the hell?”

 

A deep roar rumbled from behind him, too close for comfort. Stiles clenched his eyes shut against the sudden prick of tears. He tried to shy away from the sharp claws pressing against his already bruised flesh but he was stuck between a wall and a hard place. “Shut up.” A warm voice growled against his ear. Against his will, a whimper bubbled up in his throat. “You are going to relay a little message to Scott for me.”
”Scott?” he asked, “Look, dude, Scott hasn’t spoken to me since the whole Gerard thing went down.” Even the name sent a tingle through him and not the good kind of tingle either. The sharp claws retracted but the feeling of human fingers on his neck brought back images of lying under Gerard while the older man beat him down, all the while whispering horrible things into his ear. He can almost feel his warm breath against the side of his face. The smell of his cologne- the mix of earth and wolfsbane still burns his nostrils.

 

Stiles was jerked back to reality. The hand on the back of his neck forced him back, he stumbled over his own feet but quickly regained his footing. Red eyes glared at him from beneath dark eyelashes. Derek growled, low and rough. “Don’t call me dude.”

“OK, OK. Just let go.” The hand on the back of his neck only clamped down harder. He winched. Why is it that every wolf thinks it’s OK to use him, beat him up and push him into walls, he might not be like them but that’s no excuse. “I’ve already told you, you’re going to have to find another messenger cause Scott ain’t talking to me anymore. He hasn’t said two words to me since Gerard beat the crap out of me and frankly I’ve had enough of your werewolf bullshit to last me a fucking lifetime! So find someone else Derek, I’m over this shit! Or better yet, why don’t you get one of your little puppies to do your dirty work, everyone knows they’ve been hanging off Scott like a bad fur coat!”

“He’s not lying.” The new voice caused Stiles to jump. For some stupid reason he thought he was alone with Derek, but of course one of his little puppies had to follow after the big bad Alpha. “Scott doesn’t talk to him anymore. He’s too busy off in his own little world with Allison.” Derek’s grip on his neck prevented him from turning but if Stiles had to guess which of the Betas had followed them in he would say, Isaac, it defiantly wasn’t Erica and Boyd was more of the brooding silent type.

Stiles should really stop talking, unfortunately, he seems to have an unsavory habit of making Derek mad, however, for the second time today his own anger won out over reason. ”Listen to your puppy Derek.” The Alpha’s eyes seemed to burn a darker shade of red.“What, hmm, what are you going to do? You gonna throw me into another wall, maybe threaten me a little more, add to the already agonizing amount of bruises I already have? What Derek, What are you going to do? Because I have had it up to here with being a supernatural punching bag for you and the rest of the wolves in this godforsaken town!”
”No one said you are a punching bag.” His voice sounded oddly sincere if Stiles didn’t know him he would take his sincerity at face value, but he did know Derek and knew without a doubt that he is full of shit.
”This,” he gestured wildly to the still healing marks on his face. “Says otherwise!” The hand on the back of his neck fell away. Stiles took the chance to step away from the Alpha. “I may not be a werewolf or a Kanima or a bloody Banshee, but just because I can’t defend myself against you doesn’t give you or any other supernatural ass hole the right to shove me around and threaten me into doing your bidding. I might be weak on the outside, fragile even but mark my words, Derek, if you or any other wolf in this town tries to threaten me again you’ll find yourself on the wrong end of a stick of wolfsbane.” After a beat of silence, he continued, somewhat calmer this time. “You can take your message for Scott and shove it.”

 

Stiles didn’t want to stick around and listen to whatever else Derek has to say. He stormed passed the Alpha, their shoulders bumping-almost painfully.

 

Isaac pushed himself off the bathroom door and straightened quickly. His blonde hair was disheveled, standing out at odd angles, his usual smug grin was nowhere in sight, he looked more like a kicked puppy than a scary Beta. “Stiles-I…I-I’m…”
”You’re what Isaac?” he asked, “You know, you have become a real ass hole since Derek bit you.” Isaac’s hand shot out, grabbing Stiles already outstretched arm. The pressure around his wrist wasn’t enough to bruise but tight enough that he wouldn’t be able to pull away. The blonde kept speaking, words spewing forth from his mouth but Stiles couldn’t hear anything, there was a loud buzzing in his ears- like a swarm of bees have taken refuge inside his head. Stiles tried to yank his hand away as a familiar sensation washed over his body, however, Isaac continued to hold tightly to his wrist.

 

Distantly Stiles could feel his phone vibrate in his back pocket but it was like the sensation was coming to him through layers of cotton. He blinked. When his heavy eyes opened Stiles was no longer standing in the boy's bathroom- instead, he was crouched behind an old set of metal bleachers. He recognized the blue buildings in the distance, the basketball hoop by the office-still missing the backboard, the bright yellow bus parked by the side of the road, this is his old elementary school. He hasn’t thought about this place in years.

 

The grass beneath his hands felt like water, trailing between his fingers. He could see the wind rustling the leaves of the nearby trees but it seemed to pass right through him, his body remained untouched by the winds.

 

Stiles gazed down at his hands. His breath hitched. He was see-through, his entire body looked like rice paper. Through his hands, he could see the grass swaying in the wind beneath him. “What the hell?” Stiles didn’t even recognize his own voice. It was like hearing his voice from a distance, soft and almost ghost-like. A momentary spike of fear rose up before he quickly realized what this was. He’s not really here, well not in the normal sense at least. The only thing he could think to describe what is happening is that it’s a sort of empathy link- at least that’s what his mother used to call it.

 

Sometimes his mind takes him places, it usually only happens with contact to a certain item or person- in this case, Isaac. It’s almost like going back in time, except he can’t influence or hold sway over anything he sees or hears.

 

The first time this happened he was seven years old. Mrs. McCall had taken him and Scott to the precinct to visit his dad while he was on duty. He had been the first to reach the doors and tried to open them but his body had suddenly gone ridged and images began to move before his eyes like time was moving backward, suddenly he found himself standing at the front desk, invisible to everyone around him. He watched, unable to do anything as a woman strode inside- no older than his own mother. She reached inside her jacket and pulled out a gun. Stiles could do nothing but watch in horror as she shot down two deputies before a well-placed bullet hit her between the eyes. When he had finally come back to himself he was lying face down on the cement outside the precinct with Mrs. McCall and his father standing over him. His parents tried to tell him that it was a gift, that he could see past events, past crimes, and memories- both good and bad. They kept telling him that he was special and he should be proud of who he was but to Stiles his empathy link is just another reason to hate himself. Whatever he is-he’s not special.

 

Stiles looked up. A small boy with a mop of blonde curls was crouched beside him. He was wearing a pair of blue jeans and a gray hoodie that was at least two sizes too big. His shaky hands were clutching a bouquet of purple Lillie's, the tissue paper around the flowers was crinkled and ripped in small places where the boy's hand fiddled needlessly with the paper. “You can do this,” the boy repeated to himself again and again.

 

Stiles crept forward to get a better look at him. One of his blue eyes were swollen with dark purple and black bruises, his bottom lip was split and if you looked close enough you could make out deep indentations around his neck, like finger marks. There was no mistaking that this beaten and bruised boy was Isaac Lahey.

 

Isaac stood suddenly. Stiles followed suit. The younger version of the wolf he knows so little of sped across the field, his hands were shaking and more than once he had to stop to rub his sweaty palms across his thighs. Isaac shoved the bouquet behind his back as he approached a tiny figure. The other boy was sitting a few yards from the busy playground, his head was down and he was absentmindedly fiddling with the strings of his red jacket. “S-Stiles?” young Isaac stuttered. Stiles' eyes widened as the younger version of himself looked up. The younger him looked like hell warmed over, his eyes were bloodshot and wet like he had been crying for hours, his lip was split from where his teeth had bit down trying to stifle his sobs.

 

There’s no doubting that this is him and no doubt that the cut across his younger self's forehead is the same wound his mum gave him during one of her fits (where she forgot who he was) but Stiles can’t remember this- this whole scene, Isaac, the flowers, he doesn’t remember any of this ever happening but yet Isaac remembers.

 

Mini Stiles straightened and quickly wiped a tiny fist across his eyes. “What do you want Isaac?” he asked. “If you have come to laugh at me like everyone else then just go. I don’t need it from you too.” Mini Isaac’s fingers curled tightly around the flower stems.
”That’s not why I’m here,” he took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “I actually…I um…I brought you something.” Isaac shoved the bouquet at Mini Stiles.
”Whats this for?”
”My brother says flowers make people feel better and you were sad so I thought maybe they might make you feel better…” Stiles could see that he was losing his nerve. His hand that was holding the flowers was shaking and he constantly rubbed his sweaty palm on his trousers. “If-If you don’t want them I can-”
”I want them!” Mini Stiles screamed. His tiny hands shot out and snatched the bouquet from Isaac. He pressed the flowers close to his chest and dipped his head ever so slightly to breathe in the smell of freshly cut lilies. “They’re pretty, thank you.” Tiny fingers straitened the purple petals. “You can sit down if you want.” Mini Isaac all but fell onto the bench beside his younger self. Neither spoke for a long moment. It was like watching a car crash, painful to watch but you find yourself unable to look away.

 

Isaac’s hand slowly inched along the bench, his fingers twitched beside mini Stiles little hand. Their eyes met briefly, a red blush flared up on both boys faces. Mini Stiles cleared his throat, “You can hold my hand…if you want.”
”O-OK.” Stiles couldn’t help but smile as the younger version of himself and Isaac held tightly onto each other, their fingers entwined in a white-knuckle grip, neither seeming to want to let go of the other. It was almost adorable (as long as he didn’t think about the beta wolf and his stupid smug grin.) He was so busy mulling over all the ways he hates the blonde haired wolf that he nearly missed when Isaac leaned over and kissed mini Stiles flaming red cheek. His younger self-broke out into a fit of giggles, he gripped Isaac’s hand tighter and turned to smile at the blonde. That look in his younger self’s eyes- it’s the same glint he reserved just for Lydia Martin. It makes Stiles sick to think that he had once used to look at Isaac that way- even though he doesn’t remember this.

 

Blackness crept through the corners of Stiles vision until all he could see was inky blackness. A tingling sensation settled through his body- like pins and needles on steroids but the feeling was a comfort from the bone-crushing numbness he had encountered in the empathy link. Stiles jolted up suddenly, dragging in a gasp of air. Isaac’s face was the first he saw as his vision returned. His brow frowned in concern and his eyes were wide with unshed tears. Isaac seemed to visibly deflate, his shoulders sagged and he released a deep breath. “Thank god,” he mumbled. He ran a shaky hand through his tuft of blonde curls. “What the hell happened? I thought you had a heart attack or something.” It was just then that Stiles realized he was laying on the bathroom floor, his head was propped up on a leather jacket which felt oddly soft against his skin and smelt of a weird combination of cinnamon and pizza sauce.

 

Slowly Stiles pushed himself up onto his elbows, he immediately noticed that the Alpha was missing and felt oddly…happy that Isaac had bothered to stay with him.“Why am I on the floor?”
”You collapsed, Stiles. Your eyes rolled back and you just…dro-” The blonde was cut when the bathroom door was thrown open, narrowly avoiding Isaac who jumped out of the way at the last second. John barreled into the small room, closely followed by a flustered Derek. His dad dropped to the floor by his side, his hands instinctively going to Stiles' face and cupping his cheeks in a way that has always made him feel safe. John twisted his head this way and that checking Stiles over for any visible injuries. “Dad, Dad, I’m OK.”
”Your O-What the hell happened?” his gaze flickered from Stiles to the two wolves crowding around them.
”I slipped.” The lie rolled easily off his tongue. “Might have hit my head on the sink and blacked out a little.” John’s fingers pressed firmly into his cheeks. His dad's brows frowned in concern, a look he has become all too familiar with lately.
”Jesus kid…Do you think you can stand?”
Stiles replied, “Yea.”

 

With the help of his dad, Stiles managed to get back on his feet, although a bit wobbly at first. He regained his footing quickly, silently thanking the heavens that he wouldn’t need to use his dad as a human crutch while they walked through the diner.

 

It wasn’t until he was sliding into the passenger seat of his dad’s cruiser that he felt a tugging at his shirt sleeve. He glanced down at the long fingers entwined with the sleeve of his plaid over shirt. Slowly his eyes traced up, over long lithe arms and across a slender chest until Stiles' eyes met a pair of deep blue orbs. Absentmindedly his tongue darted out to wet his suddenly dry lips. “Are you OK? I mean, really, after everything?…I mean, what you were saying before…and, I’m really sorry” Isaac stuttered out. Stiles mind was a bit preoccupied with the tingling sensation running up his arm from where Isaac’s knuckles were gently resting against the tender skin of his wrist. God, what the hell is wrong with him. Stiles quickly snatched his arm back. “I’m fine, Isaac.” There was no hiding the obvious disdain he felt for the werewolf.

Chapter Text

Stiles sniffled as he felt tears well in the corner of his eyes. He blinked rapidly, trying to dispel the moisture but a few stray tears managed to escape, Stiles briskly wiped them away with the sleeve of his hoodie. He couldn’t believe that he was a blubbering mess right now, all because his dad said he was disappointed in him. Of course, John found out about the use of his powers. The man knew as soon as he had seen Stiles on the floor in the bathroom that he hadn’t passed out and of course when the man asked him what happened, Stiles lied, the lie just came so easily that he couldn’t help but tell it, but the worst part was that his dad wasn’t even angry, he didn’t yell or scream and in all honesty Stiles would have preferred it if he had because his angry words would have hurt far less then the look of disappointment that is still stuck in Stiles mind. Every time he pictures that look on his dad’s face it feels like a knife is plunging through his heart. It cuts deeper then any words could.

 

He settled back further into the cold tiles of the roof and stares blankly up at the night sky. The sky was clear, not a cloud in sight. It feels like so long ago when he would climb up to the roof with his mum and watch the stars, she would point out the constellations and make up stories about how the stars came to be. She liked to theorize that the stars were the souls of people we love and that they would stay up there, shining brightly so that those who were left behind would always see them and know that they are not alone. Stiles has no doubt that his mum is one of those bright stars, watching over them.

 

Would she be disappointed in him too?

 

The tips of his fingers gently trailed across the jagged edges of the worn, red tiles. It felt like sandpaper beneath his skin but the rough surface was a welcome distraction to the overwhelming sensation of guilt coiling in his gut. The past twenty minutes Stiles has been contemplating the pros and cons of coming clean to his dad about all of the supernatural crap and so far the cons outweigh the pros. Stiles sighed. He scrubbed his hands over his eyes, trying to dispel every thought from his brain before he drives himself insane.

 

A thump echoed off the roof tiles a few feet from where he was laying. Stiles jumped forward into a sitting position, his bare feet pulled underneath him, ready to run. A pair of gold eyes cut through the blanket of darkness, like a knife through butter. The dull light of the street lamp below provided just enough light for Stiles to make out the hunched figure crouching at the edge of the roof. They brushed aside a stray curl and preceded to shuffle closer until Stiles could make out the familiar features of the wolf.“...Hi.” They whispered shyly.

Stiles is having a bad night as it is, he doesn’t need the wolf popping up out of nowhere unannounced and making things worse. “What the hell do you want, Isaac?” Stiles all but growled.
”I don’t want anything.” He answered, “I thought I’d come check up on you, see if you were OK. You scared the crap out of me when you passed out.” Stiles sneered. He doesn’t need the wolf’s faked sympathy. ”Oh, boo hoo, The poor puppy is upset, why don’t you go crawling back to your Alpha, I’m sure he’ll lick your wounds clean.” The wolf nodded, giving no outward sign that the comment had affected him, instead Isaac said,

“I deserve that.” Stiles glanced at the teen from the corner of his eye, he hadn’t expected that, however, those three words don’t change anything. He pushed his legs out in front of him and turned slightly to the left so that he had a better view of the other man. If the werewolf was going to lie to him then Stiles would rather see his face while he did. ”You deserve a whole worse than that, Isaac.”


”I agree,” He replied. The wolf shuffled closer until they were sitting side by side, both staring out into the dark expanse of the preserve which ran behind the Stilinski house. They were so close now that their arms brushed together with every small movement. It almost felt comforting; almost. Isaac continued speaking after a breath of silence,“ And if you want to hit me or throw wolfsbane in my face then go right ahead. I’m not going to stop you.” Stiles sighed, there Isaac goes again, pretending like he understands how he feels. Stiles doesn’t need his false pity. Although, a small voice in the back of his mind urged him to shut up and hear the wolf out, reminding him about the warm feeling in his chest whenever the other teen's arm brushes against his. Damn you teenage hormones.”Don’t play with me-” Isaac quickly cut him off before he could finish.
”I’m not playing. You deserve a proper apology, Stiles, not just from the pack but Scott too. We’ve been horrible lately and there is no excusing that. You deserve so much better than that-” The ‘human’ interrupted with a scoff.
”Damn right I do-”
”So let me be the first to apologize for the part I played. I never wanted to hurt you.” Stiles scoffed again, “After Gerard happened,” He couldn’t help but flinch at the name, “Derek was so pissed but for some stupid reason he still wanted Scott to join the pack and when he asked us to do everything we possibly could to make sure Scott joined we didn’t fight it, even when he suggested that you be excluded from pack business because you were too weak to handle it all. I knew he was wrong but I didn’t question it. I deluded myself into thinking that if you weren’t around us then you would be safe from all of this supernatural bullshit.” It’s just another bullshit excuse. The pack wouldn’t do anything without their dear Alpha’s consent and even then it doesn’t excuse everything that’s happened.

 

Stiles cleared his throat before asking, ”So instead of standing up for me you decided to bully me and make me feel worthless and disgusting?” Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes. The words hurt to say, it’s one thing to feel a certain way about yourself but it’s something else entirely to tell someone that you view yourself as worthless. Stiles shuffled across the rough tiles, putting some distance between himself and the wolf. Isaac reached out a tentative hand, seeming to smell the sadness radiating off him but Stiles flinched away from the touch. The wolf dropped his hand with a sigh. ”I can not begin to say how sorry I am for that. Things with the pack started escalating and Scott was only adding fuel to the fire. I didn’t know how else to protect you without completely pushing you away.” At the mention of Scott’s name Stiles turned to face the other teen. Isaac had caught his attention. “What do you mean by Scott adding fuel?” Stiles asked. However, the wolf didn’t answer, instead, he silently swore under his breath, “Isaac, tell me. Now.” His voice left no room for argument and the other teen seemed to sense the finality of his words because Isaac sighed and hung his head in defeat. His words were muffled at first, barely audible even with the defining silence from the street below. ”It was just small things at first, he’d mock you when you left the table, make jokes about the way you dressed but then Scott started to place little seeds of doubt in Erica’s mind. He kept asking her what happened with Gerard, how you knew where they were and how you managed to escape when they didn’t. Scott did everything he could without openly saying that you were involved in Argent’s plan.” Stiles felt like he was going to be sick.

 

Involved? He barely escaped that basement alive and with his sanity intact. Why would anyone voluntarily put themselves in that situation? Scott was the one that made that ridiculous deal with Gerard Argent, not him, and now to find out that his so-called best friend is trying to shift the blame onto his shoulders, it’s a sickening feeling. Stiles feels dirty. Disgusting. Wrong. ”Are you fucking-What the-I would never!” Stiles couldn’t even form a cohesive sentence, he didn’t know what to think anymore. Isaac reached his hand out again. When Stiles didn’t flinch away the Beta took his hand between his and squeezed gently, almost comforting.

”I know that. Scott was just so convincing though.” Stiles ripped his hand away from the wolf before he could finish speaking. His words were like a slap in the face.

”So is a telemarketer,” Stiles screamed. By now he was sure that his dad had heard the commotion and was silently listening in but right now he couldn’t find the strength to care, “but you don’t buy everything they’re trying to sell you!”
”I know…” Isaac whispered brokenly. “But Derek said he’d fix it. When you left the diner with your dad, he demanded to know what was going on and so I told him everything. Dude, I’ve never seen him so angry before. He could barely control the shift, I’ve never seen him like, but by tomorrow morning everything will be back to normal.”
”Normal? Isaac, there is nothing normal about any of this and to be honest I don’t give a shit whether or not the pack ever speaks to me again. An apology from you and Derek’s idea of ‘fixing’ it isn’t going to change anything, tomorrow Erica will still be pissed, Scott will still be an ass hole and Boyd will still be…Boyd. Nothing will change.” Stiles paused to take a deep breath. He suddenly felt so tired, he just wanted to curl up into a ball and sleep. “…I can’t do this right now, can you just leave?”

 

Stiles stood and slowly shuffled along the ruff tiles of the roof. He crouched down at the edge, one hand stretched behind him, his fingers tightly wound around the edge of a broken tile while his free hand reached down below him and grabbed a hold of the wooden runs that ran up the side of the house. He swung himself down with what little upper body strength he still possessed. Stiles' feet landed against the pane of his window with a soft thud. He steadied himself with a hand against the side of the house before quickly ducking inside. Surprisingly his bedroom door was still closed. Stiles had been so sure that his dad would have at least checked up on him but his room was untouched, even the piece of paper he had taken to sliding between his closed door was still stuck in its place, undisturbed.

 

The teen sighed. He paced across the room to his small bed and flopped down against the warm covers. He was about to roll over and close his eyes when he heard a thump from his window. Stiles sat up quickly, a growl rumbling from his throat. “Damn it-”
”Tell me what to do.” The beta interrupted, “I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you that I’m truly sorry. I will get down on all fours and follow you around like a dog for the rest of my life it that’s what it takes, Or I…I’ll insult Derek to his face and let you watch while he beats the crap out of me. Whatever you want I’ll do it.” The wolfs movements were erratic, his fingers twitched by his side and he paced back and forth in front of the window but his clear blue eyes remained locked to Stiles, never wavering.“Why are you doing this?” Stiles sighed. His fingers tangled in the soft blue comforter. “Apologizing, following me around like a lost puppy, trying to make things better. Why the hell are you doing all this?” Isaac’s apology had taken him by surprise at first, it was unexpected and even though he still doesn’t believe what the other teen is saying, his words still seemed to lift a weight off his shoulders. Stiles felt lighter in a sense. However, there is still a tiny voice in the back of his mind that keeps laughing at him, whispering that this is all a joke, the pack wouldn’t apologize or admit their wrong, his life is a joke to them.

 

Isaac crossed the room in two large strides. He stood before Stiles, rubbing his sweaty palms against his thighs and blurted out in a single breath, ”Because you were right before, at the diner. I’ve been a complete jerk lately, I didn’t realize exactly how bad I’ve been treating people, especially you until you were yelling at Derek and it got me thinking about everything. This guy, I don’t recognize who he is anymore. I don’t want to be this person, Stiles, I don’t want to have to lie about how I’m feeling or pretend that I’m some emotionless asshole. I’m so sick of being afraid of how I feel about you and so I thought that if I apologized and tried to make up for all the bad I’ve done then it would be the first step in making things better!”

Stiles whispered so softly that he barely heard his own voice, “You like me?” Isaac’s wide, fearful eyes were the only answer he got before the beta wolf turned and jumped out of Stiles bedroom window.

 

Liar.

Chapter Text

Hey guys,

I just wanted to give you all a bit of a heads up and to apologize. I will not be posting this month, I had planned to but fortunately, my grandma has come down to the South Island for the week for my birthday and as such, I have no time to get onto my computer and finish the next chapter for yous guys. I am hoping that maybe I will get it done by the end of the month but there are no promises. Sorry again guys.