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"It's okay, my son."

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Stiles wonders what's happening right now. He wonders if the team is celebrating their victory, without him. He wonders if anyone notices that he's gone. He'd made the winning goal, for heaven's sake.
His dad has to notice, right? His own son? 
Maybe the hunters took his jeep and made it look like he left? 

The light flickers and Stiles' mentally winces. He knows that in the basement are Erica and Boyd and there's nothing that he can do, sitting here, strapped to a chair and freezing his ass off. 
He doesn't have wolf-y powers like everyone around him, so there's not much he can do. 

When he got dragged off the field wasn't even when the panic had kicked in. He tried shouting, only got out a small help as the lights went off, but then a massive guy was shoving him, groping at him. 
For a second, Stiles honest-to-God thought he was going to be raped right there. 
Turns out, the man was just a hunter, ridding him of his lacrosse uniform, probably trying to take away any protection he has. 
He ends up with only an Under Armour shirt and matching shorts (because in sports you really need something that holds it all together when you're running around that's not underwear). The man had given him a pat down for weapons. 
Bottom line, Stiles felt very violated right now. 

They'd mentioned something about making the marks where it wouldn't be easily seen. In someway, it's kind of a good thing because his dad won't see them. In the bad way, Stiles has to endure his clothes being cut off, and being duck taped to a chair and shoved under the water to make sure the cuts don't dry up and heal. Of course the water is probably going to give him hypothermia if he isn't out it soon. 

The cuts had come first, prior to being strapped in the damn chair. Gerard tells him that all he has to do is tell them what he knows about the (barely) pack. Stiles spits the blood in his mouth into the man's face. 
“You couldn't have asked the question before you punched my face in or started kicking a hole in my ribs?”
Gerard doesn't care what Stiles says unless it's an answer, so he wiped the spit-blood off his cheek, and pulls out a knife. Stiles tries to scramble away on the floor, but he doesn't feel right, almost like he's in a dream and no matter how much he tries, his legs won't move. 
Gerard cuts off his shirt. Bruises are forming along Stiles' entire torso. 
He kicks into them, breaking skin with his shoe. 
Behind him, Erica and Boyd shout from behind the duck tape, in obvious protest. Gerard laughs, pointing the knife at them. 
“You guys are aware of what's happening around you. I should turn the dial up.” Gerard does just that, and the whole while, Stiles lays on the floor, trying to focus his breathing. 
When Gerard walks back over to Stiles, he kneels down, and slides the knife along his hip bone. Stiles hisses, and tries to recoil, but his ribs protest. 
“You could join the hunters, Stiles. We can rid the town of these monsters.”
Gerard cuts off the Under Armour shorts, and Stiles cries out as he tries to cover himself. He ends up half-faces down, crying out. 
“Please, please, stop!” He shouts. 
“Not by a long shot. I need you Stiles. You may just be exactly what I need to survive.”
Gerard cuts three stripes into the back of his thighs, just under his butt. 
Stiles holds in the shout waiting to leave. 
He counts up to ten as the time passes, all shallow and more taunting. There's some more after, not much, but then Gerard's helpers walk in and drag him out. 

They'd strapped down his ankles first; he'd been kicking a lot. The pain in his right ankle was excruciating from one of the hunters twisting it when they'd grabbed it during his struggle. 
They don't stop at the ankles, though. They strap his arms down, too. Then the duck tape gets cut off, and someone brings in chains. 
“You've got to be kidding me man! I'm human! What do you guys even want with me? What do-,” the man with the chains wraps one part around Stiles' neck, not tight,  but set firm enough to voice a threat. 
Stiles doesn't talk after that; lets the guy shackle his ankles, his wrists, and then they even add a fucking collar. It wraps around the chair and that's when fear spikes in Stiles. 
Although he does wonder if they deem him a threat with this much restraint. 

It's about twenty minutes dedicated to just watching blood flow and freezing. He knows it's been around that amount because he's been counting to keep himself focused. 
When Allison walks in, his heart races. 
“Allison!” He shouts. Stiles yanks on the collars. “Please Allison get me out of this. You have to help me,” he pleads. 
She's frozen to the spot and Stiles can see the internal conflict in her eyes. 
Gerard walks up behind her, resting a hand on her shoulder. 
“It's time, sweetheart.” 
“I though we were only going after Derek's pack.”
“Scott may not be apart of Derek's pack, but Stiles is.” Allison seems to accept the answer. She stares at Stiles in the eyes, then nods to her grandpa. “Let's go.”
Stiles doesn't try to shout for her again. 
He stops counting.

With Erica and Boyd, fear strikes through them again as Chris Argent enters the basement. He says a few things, then proceeds to cut them down from the wires. 
“I can drive you to the edge of town if you plan on leaving.”
They agree and and hold each other. 
Chris drives them in his car and when he lets them go, Erica turns to Chris. 
“Stiles,” she says, voice laced with concern.
“What about Stiles?”
“Your father had him,” Boyd says. “He was torturing him.”

Chris pulls up to his house in a race and has to remember to slam the breaks. He searches the house for anyone, but only a few hunters remain around. 
When he walks back outside, he finds Lydia Martin. 
“I know you're going to find Scott and I need you to take me with you,” she says with conviction. “I can help Jackson.”
Chris knows that Stiles is a human boy that shouldn't be involved, but there's a task at hand and he knows what to do. 

They get to the warehouse district and find quite the predicament. 
Derek Hale is on the floor, not moving Chris assumes he's paralyzed. 
Isaac is by Scott both staring at Gerard who has Jackson, as the Kanima, next to him with his daughter wrapped in his tail. 
His entrance must be a distraction, or maybe it's Lydia shouting to Jackson that gets the attention. 
Chris doesn't understand the situation, but next thing he knows, Scott is forcing Derek to give Gerard the bite. He can't help but make a disgusted face, and then watches as black oozes out where there should be blood. 
Everyone but Scott looks confused. 
He had a plan, too. 
“Kill them! Kill them all!” Allison stabs backwards at Jackson causing him to force release her. She rolls out of the way when she hits the floor and Lydia goes running in. 
She raises a key in her hand and somehow that brings him back. 
Chris stalks over to Gerard. He lifts him by the collar and feels the stares on his back. He ignores the black oozing out of every orifice and stares him in the eyes. 
“Where do you have Stiles Stilinski?”
Scott steps forward now, from where he's been holding Allison. 
“You have Stiles?!” He roars. “Where is he?”
“He left him in the shower,” is Allison's small voice. 
Even Lydia looks disgustingly at her. 
“You knew?!” Scott asks. 
Chris ignores it and stares at his daughter. 
“He wasn't there when I went looking for him.” Gerard smiles at him and glances behind him. 

At the entrance, they see Stiles get shoved to the ground. His wrists are tied and pressed between his bare chest and the ground.
He's naked. 

The man that brought him in presses his foot on the side of Stiles' head, making him face everyone. 
“Let Gerard go and I let the boy live.” The guy pulls out a gun and points it at Stiles. The werewolves are too far to try and listen in on the stranger's heartbeat.
Chris points his gun at Gerard and the man laughs. 
“You'd do that? To your own father?”
“My father was willing to kill my daughter.”
Everyone stares on, including Derek who begins to get feeling back and tries to stand. 
It's a stare down now and everyone is still. 

Eventually, Peter Hale emerges from the shadows and grabs Gerard, dragging him to the man. 
Unfortunately, things don't go according to plan and the man shoots Peter in the shoulder and he collapses. Scott runs after them, but Gerard and the man grab Stiles running away and shooting at Scott as he approaches. He gets hit in the leg, but it doesn't stop him. What he isn't expecting is the car that was waiting. They take off too fast too comprehend and his best friend stares at him through the back window, tears rolling down his face. 

The car drives a few miles out before pulling over on the side of the road. It's begun to rain and Stiles wonders if these hunters know what they're doing. 
The driver gets out, going to the trunk and moving stuff around. Stiles sees the black running down Gerard's nose.
“You got the bite, but your body is rejecting it. I've seen that.” Gerard turns to face Stiles. Stiles doesn't bother and try to cover up any more, just leaves his bound hands in his lap and smirks at him. 
“Your plan went to shit. Now what are you going to do? What am I of use to you as? You got what you wanted.”
Gerard doesn't speak, and the driver comes back. 
“I'm going to turn you into a hunter. You have potential Stilinski. I intend on bringing it out.”

Stiles doesn't know what's happening with his dad, Scott, or anyone. He has no idea what time it is, and he's barely got any fight left in him. 

“Put him in the trunk.” Gerard's holding his phone and it's making a loud obnoxious noise. “There's an amber alert.” Stiles has to smirk at that, but he wonders what his dad thinks happened. 

“I know it sounds weird, but Gerard Argent did kidnap Stiles,” Scott insists. “He found out that Stiles helped close the arson case and that's half the reason that Kate Argent was killed right? Whoever killed her was taking vengeance.”
“I close a case that gets his daughter killed so he takes my son? What does he plan on doing? Do you have any idea?” Scott leans back in the chair. 
“I have no idea.”

It's a half-assed lie, but the Sheriff and deputies believe it. It makes sense. 
The lady at the front desk issues an amber alert. 
Sheriff Stilinski looks very worn and tired, not even in uniform, having been at the station and searching since the end of the game. 
“We'll find him,” Scott says. “We're going to find him.” After a few moments, Scott breathes and stares Sheriff in the eyes. “Alive.”

Of course he developed claustrophobia while he's in the trunk of the car. He tries kicking, but it doesn't do anything. The small space is still small. 
Think Stiles. 
He manages to punch out a tail light and he looks through it. They're still in Beacon Hills. 
The road is dark, but it gets lighter. Eventually he sees more cars, but he can't get in an angle to stick an arm out and wave for help. 
To his luck, a police cruiser pulls up behind them. The lights flicker on and start flashing. 

The car pulls over and Stiles takes the chance to shout for the officer. 
It's Cordova, one of his dad's oldest co-workers. He's still in his 40s, but they've worked together the longest. 
The officer chances a glance and signs for him to wait. He pulls his radio from his sleeve and requests back up.
Cordova walks up the driver's side and puts a hand on his gun. 
“Sir, I'm going to need you to step out of the vehicle.” The door opens and shuts. “Your friend, too.” He hears Gerard get out. 
“What seems to be the problem, officer?”
“You tail light is out and this seems to be an unregistered vehicle.” Stiles knows the second part is bullshit. 
“Oh? I can show you the paperwork for it. It's in the glove compartment.”
“Do not re enter the vehicle, sir. I'm going to need you both to out your hands against-” Stiles hears the gun get drawn and a shot rings out. 
“Go, go!” Gerard shouts. “Don't just stand there you idiot. Drive!” Stiles sighs in defeat. 
Pulling away, he sees Cordova bleeding from somewhere in his upper body.

Of course, Stiles is placed in a basement, shackled with chains, only long enough to navigate the bare, cement, room, except that this time it's only on his wrists. He's still freezing; he has no shoes or socks, and Gerard failed to give him clothes again. 
The door opens. 

“That stunt you pulled almost cost us. Because of that, your training starts tonight. Behind Gerard, there's growling and shouts.
A girl, struggling wildly, gets thrown into the room. 
“Your first Omega. Kill it,” Gerard says and leaves. 

Stiles stares at the woman, probably late 20s, and she's staring at him. 
She gives a warning growl before she attacks. 
Stiles barely has a second to jump out of the way. The girl pushes off a wall and gets a swipe at Stiles. The claws get just along his  right collar bone, but not too deep. It does sting, though, and he starts bleeding. His ribs ache more than ever and he tries to slip out of the chains when he gets an idea. 
He grip the chains and uses the excess to lift and smack the omega. She falls to her knees and his body pumps full of adrenaline.
He jumps on her back, wrapping the chain around her neck and pulls. Eventually she falls down, and Stiles holds the chain long enough after before letting go. 
Eventually, he sits back, realizing what he's done. He stares at his hands then back at the girl. She could have had family, maybe even children. Her parents would never see her again. And it's his fault. 
Stiles curls into a ball and allows himself to cry. 

It's been two days. He's only gotten food twice since he arrived, and he can never tell what time it is. There's been more omegas, and each time, he gets a little better, but Gerard nor his goons ever remove the bodies. 
There's a pile of ten that makes Stiles cry after each time. Then eleven. 
It stops at fifteen on the third day. 
Two men remove the bodies from the room while Gerard walks up to him. He's creepily gentle, and lifts Stiles chin up from his knees. Tears race down Stiles' face, but he doesn't have the energy to pull his head away. 
He's sat on the floor, like after every kill, knees to his chest, arms wrapped around himself. 
“You're not training me to be a hunter,” Stiles spits through tears. “You're training me to be a killer.”
“Peter Hale took my daughter from me. It's only fair I get to take the pack's prized possession and recreate another hunter. Killing is part of the job.”
“Killing innocents?! Do you remember the code? What happened to that, huh?” Gerard back hands him across the face. He says nothing more and heads for the door. 
“You get food in an hour and Betas start tomorrow.”
Stiles feels his stomach churn. Innocent werewolves, all of them. Each has good eyes, he remembers talking to Deaton about the eyes. Gold is innocent, blue is they've killed, and red is alpha status. 
All have been gold. 

Of course all the Betas sent in are drugged up, unlike the omegas, and they go feral. Their eyes are all gold and it makes him die a little with the lives he takes. Betas are all part of a pack. 
On the fifth day, he's gone through ten more, twenty-five total. The fights start to last longer. 
He says a few words for the biggest guy in the pile of dead bodies before he snaps the bone of the arm. He pulls the bone out and uses it as a weapon. 

“Creative,” Gerard says one day. “That's good.” Gerard hugs him, for reasons he's not sure of, other than he's a psychopath, and he just stands and lets it happen. 

The seventh day is an alpha. 

“You're doing so well, my son.” 

For the first time, Stiles pukes. 


“You can't lose hope,” Melissa tells Sheriff Stilinski. “We're going to find him.” She turns to Scott, and she gives him a look. 
“Mr. Stilinski... I think it's time I tell you the truth.” He looks up at Scott, eyes wide. 
“The truth?”
“I told you vague parts of it. It's all part of a bigger picture.”


Telling Stiles' dad makes it easier. The pack, Derek, Scott, Isaac, and Jackson now, all meet at the Sheriff's house when they discuss search routes. 

It's been a week when Isaac comes running in. Derek is talking with the Sheriff over a cup of coffee. 
“I found a scent! It's faint, but it's there. It's mixed with blood, but not his. I don't know what to make of it, but it's him.”

They find the dumping ground for the bodies. They're burned black and Derek looks uneasy. 
“Stiles' scent is here.” Derek speaks. “But he's not among them. Not strong enough,” he assures the Sheriff. 
“What are we going to do?” Jackson asked, who everyone is surprised seems concerned. “I didn't like Stilinski, but he's pack and I grew up with him,” he explains. “Gerard is manipulative and he needs to be taken down.” He doesn't comment anymore. 
“We'll follow his scent from here. If it's in the air around here, we can follow it.”

They find Gerard entering an old cabin fifteen miles east, getting close to the mountain. It's pretty secluded. 
It's not until they're creeping up on the side of the cabin that Derek's hears the muffled shout. It's sounds like a battle cry, but then breaks off into sobs. Derek pales. 
“Did you hear that? It was faint,” Scott says. “Derek could you hear it clearly?” He nods. “Is it Stiles?”

Something Stiles discovered about using the bones as weapons, was that it wasn't as messy. Clothes from the male a day ago were salvageable. He takes the pants off and puts them on, ignoring the fact that it's a dead man's clothes and two sizes big. 
Today, the Alpha is familiar. 
When he realizes who it is, he considers letting the alpha take him. 

The woman falters and Stiles knows she recognizes him just a little. Her roaring and willingness to attack makes it a little easier. She isn't lucid enough to remember him well, she's so drugged on whatever they're injecting them with. He'll say something for her when it's over. 
He cries out when he watches the red flicker, then as life literally fades from her eyes. 

He's on his knees, her head in his lap, and he's talking to her, even though she's long gone. 
“I know it's been years,” he says, “which is much too long.” He sniffles and wipes the blood from the bone on the pant leg. “Even after my mom passed, I wish you still would have come by. Any friend of hers was a friend of mine.”
Gerard comes in then, and Stiles jumps, raising the bone.
“Are you happy?!” He shouts. “You've turned me into a killer!” His hands shake and it rattles the chain on the floor. “I knew her!” His voice cracks on the last word. 
“It's okay, my son.”
“Stop calling me that! You're fucking crazy and I'm not your son!”
Gerard just smiles and steps forward. Stiles collapses in on himself and mourns his mom's old best friend. 
“Don't you touch him!” Stiles looks up and sees his dad, pointing a gun. Behind him is Scott and Derek. He can't see any further through his tears. 

Gerard falters, not sure what to do. 
“Do you think I don't have more men upstairs?” 
“I think they're all dead.” Was that Jackson? 

His dad handcuffs Gerard, and the whole while, Stiles is still he doesn't look up and he knows that they know it's a bone in his hand. His dad takes Gerard up to the cruiser, knowing that the pack can take good care of his son.
Scott gasps when Stiles finally pushes away from the woman. 
“Laura?” Derek stiffens at the name, but Stiles nods. 
“Never knew what she was,” he answers. 
“Who was Laura?” Isaac asks. 
“She was his mom's best friend. She made us cookies. A lot.” Scott steps toward Stiles, but he unintentionally flinches and starts breathing hard. 
“Give me a minute," he manages to say. Scott nods and they give him space. He doesn't even realize he's still clenching the bone until five minutes later when a hand is coaxing him to uncurl his fist.

“Their eyes were gold.” Scott and the rest don't understand, but Derek does. 
“It's okay,” Derek responds. “You had to.”
“There were thirty. Fifteen omegas, fifteen betas.” He hears chains fall behind him. Derek still has a hold on his hand. “I took their lives from their pack,” he whispers. 
“You had no-,”
“There were the same amount of Alphas.” The room goes still. “She was number thirty.” 
Derek breaks the shackles off of Stiles and offers him a hand to stand up. 
He takes it and they all leave quietly. 

In the car, it's uncomfortably silent. 
“Why does his breathing sound like that?” Jackson finally asks. 
“I think my ribs are broken-”
“You shouldn't have been walking-”
“And my ankle is twisted. I have claw marks on my collar bone, some across my stomach...” Stiles trails off into his injuries without even thinking. He's disturbingly calm the whole time and his voice doesn't waver once, nor does his heart beat pick up speed.
Scott is glad that the Sheriff has Gerard with him in another car, because it'd kill him to hear it all. 
“...and one of the feral males tried to rape me,” Stiles plays with his hands. Scott actually looks back from the driver's seat. Isaac is next to him, Jackson in the very back, and Derek and Stiles in the middle. They're all quiet. 
He looks up and is mentally taken back when Derek looks at him with sympathy. He bursts into tears again and curls into Derek's lap. Isaac whines and Jackson leans forward, and sets a hand on Stiles' shoulder. 
“FUCK!” He screams in sobs. Derek holds him the whole time. 

“He was crazy,” Stiles tells the officer taking the final report. “It doesn't help that I've always been too curious for my own good.”
“Explain.” Stiles adjusts himself in the hospital bed so he can look directly at the officer that's taking his statement. It's not Cordova. 
“When people that were suspected of past crimes started turning up dead, I did research. I helped my dad find the connection.”
“I've been told.”
“They were all related to the Hale House Fire. Some weren't directly accused of anything, but had a history of arson. Gerard somehow became aware of the fact that I helped my dad solve the case and somewhere he lost his daughter. He said he took me in replacement. He wanted to turn me into a killer.” There's a minute where he doesn't speak. “He started with animals. Had me kills some dogs that he dosed up with drugs or something. They were rabid. He moved to a couple mountain lions. The whole time he had shackles on me. Didn't want me to attack when he was there with me or to try an escape. A couple wolves were thrown in after.” 

“They need photo evidence of any injuries, to help with the case.”

“Sir, your son has small bruising on his hips.”
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“Like finger sized bruises, sir. Has he talked about what happened?”
“Have you offered the idea of a therapist?”
“Not after-  when he was younger he had one. Things never worked out and he told me he felt better talking about it with his friend Scott.”
“Maybe Scott should ask him about it.”

There's snaps from flashes on a camera as a medical examiner takes pictures of the injuries. There's bruising along his neck, probably from the collar he'd been put in, along with his hips, back, and wrists. His ribs are fractured and there's copies of the x-rays made. His ankle was twisted and he gets a boot, but is told not to walk on it. Small cuts along the side of his body get their picture taken too. They're on the back of his upper thigh, too, with a couple on the insides of his thigh. 
“There was a man,” he starts, putting on his clothes again. “He helped Gerard before one of the animals killed him. I don't know what Gerard did with him, but before, when I would fight back and talk back, he told me I needed to know who was boss.”
The woman sets down the camera and helps Stiles with his sweatshirt. 

Stiles stay in the hospital for a week. During which, he catches up on homework. The doctors say it's too much stress, but the teachers don't give a due date and it's a distraction. 
“We're going to have to give him a new prescription of Adderall. His body was forced to cope without it, sending him into some minor withdrawals. He plays with his hands a lot. It's a minor thing, but there's a lot more to do with the mind.” 
Stiles says he feels ten times better when he starts the medication again. 
Lydia brings him his homework everyday, with Jackson in tow. 
Scott is there everyday around dinner, bringing food to his mom and Stiles. 
His dad can only come in the morning because of work, which Stiles understands. He's actually a little more comfortable with the fact that he's not being smothered. 
After a couple days, a few of the team mates came by. A couple give him encouraging words, and after most are gone, one tells him that Stiles is brave and he knows he'll pull through whatever he's going through. Stiles thanks him and the guy leaves with Danny. 
Isaac shows too, once with the Sheriff, another time with Scott. 
Derek never shows up. 
Stiles doesn't seem to care. 

He grows uncomfortable in the bed and results to sitting in the chair most of the time by the third day in the hospital. Luckily, he's healing good and he can leave at the end of the week. 

He doesn't expect the Welcome Home Party. His team mates are all there, along with Lydia, and, surprise, Cordova. He's on a single crutch and Stiles gives him a warm welcome. 
His dad makes food for everyone and people leave after some time. There's just a few now; him, Scott, Isaac, Lydia, Jackson, and Danny. They all fall asleep watching movies on TV. 
Scott is the only one to stay in the morning and Stiles just gives him some of his clothes to wear for the day. 
It's not until lunch that Stiles starts telling Scott everything. 
“I think I'm just glad that people aren't treating me like a porcelain doll, like at the hospital.” Scott laughs and hugs Stiles.
“You're strong.”
“I know. And I know I went through a lot, but acknowledging everything that's happened, what I've been put through, feels good. I'm not saying I'm one hundred percent, but I'm like more than fifty,” he jokes. 

It's not until he's upstairs that night, standing in the doorway to his room that he realizes that he won't sleep tonight. 
He'd spent almost two weeks sleeping on cold cement. It sounds weird, but sleeping in his bed just won't happen tonight. 

He rearranges a couple things by his desk to sleep on the floor. He creates a giant nest of blankets and sets his laptop up under his desk, shoving the chair somewhere else in the room. 
While he's downstairs getting snacks, there's a faint tap on the door. 
He finds Derek and cookies. 
He mutters something about fresh from the bakery and Stiles smiles, and welcomes him in. 
Upstairs is when Stiles isn't sure what to do. 
“It's okay, Derek says. “I get it.”
They readjust the nest and make it larger and fluffier. 
They sit next to each other eating cookies and chips watching movies on Netflix.
When the last movie is over, Stiles just grabs Derek's hand, and pulls them into a spooning position. 
“I'm not a virgin anymore,” he whispers randomly. “That and the killing thing is really getting to me and I hate it. Parts of me that I liked were ripped away from me.”
“It's okay.”
“How is it okay?” 
“What have you to fear now?”
“That's a good point, but I don't think you get what that's like to have something like your first time taken away from you.” Derek doesn't say anything, just settles into the warmth of Stiles and the blankets. “I guess my assumptions aren't always correct.”
“You don't have to be perfect to be someone's idea of perfect.”

Stiles shares his first real kiss with Derek.

Chapter Text

The first time he sees Allison is when he's over at Scott's one month into summer. He finds out later that she told Scott that she knew he'd been at her house, but never what Gerard had planned. 
Damn lie. 

In all honesty, Stiles had never planned on ever hitting a girl- like in his entire life. He's always been against it, but when he sees Allison enter Scott's room, he becomes furious. She's apparently just there to pick up a couple things she left here (Scallison is technically over right now) from before.
Her facial expression stays the same the entire time that Scott holds him back and that's got to be what bugs him the most. 

“You fucking crazy bitch!” He shouts. 
“Did she tell you Scott?! Did she tell you she walked in on me chained up like some fucking animal in the shower under running water so my cuts wouldn't stop bleeding? Did she tell you that she deemed what he was doing acceptable just because I was- still am- apart of Derek's pack?” Still Allison's facial expression doesn't change. 
“Is that true Allison?” She looks away and brings her hand up to her face, scratching lightly. 
“Yeah,” she whispers. 
“So you lied to me?”
She doesn't respond and Stiles rage dissipated, but his anger doesn't. 
“I begged, Allison. I cried and begged you to help me. You saw me at my worst and most pathetic and you did nothing.” He pulls away from Scott and heads for the door. “We can hang out later.”

“Maybe you should talk about it?” Stiles glares at Jackson past his bottle of beer. 
“Maybe you should be poor.”
“That's funny. Who else would buy you beer?” Stiles holds the glare, but continues to sip at his drink. “I'm serious, though.” 
Jackson takes a moment to pop open another beer. 
“Have you talked to someone?”
“That helped?”
“Yeah, surprisingly. I'm not good at emotions and all that self-help crap, but when I got out everything I remembered and what it felt like, it felt good. Maybe you should talk to your dad or Derek.”
“You're not going to try and get me to talk to my therapist too?”
“Fuck no.” Jackson sets his drink on the small end table between their lounge chairs and turns to look at Stiles. “Personal beliefs here; therapists don't work. Unless you have money for a good psychiatrist, you're just going to be fed a bunch of bull shit. If I'm correct all you do is sit in a big comfy chair and stare at your therapist right?” Stiles nods. “Just talk to someone is all I'm saying. After all that Matt-Gerard shit, I found more things that bugged me that I didn't think about. Talking about it helped.”

Five minutes of silence and slowly sipping at beer. 

“Do you want to go somewhere?”


“I'm not running away, I'm just getting out of town, for like a day or two.” Stiles fixes his phone in his hand so he can recline the seat. 
“We don't have the money for that much gas,” his dad sighs. 
“Jackson is driving. His car gets better mileage and I left the jeep in the garage.”
“Whittemore? You guys get along now?”
“Sure.” In the driver's seat, Jackson snorts. 
“What about money.”
“Jackson offered to pay for somewhere to stay and I have my own money for whatever else. I haven't had anything to spend it on in awhile so..”
“You'll stay safe?”
“I have a werewolf on my side. Of course.”

Somewhere between Beacon and San Diego County, Stiles realizes something. He groans into his hand and smacks his head against the window. 
“What now?”
“You've all seen me naked.”

Jackson decides not to comment on that because he doesn't remember the night clearly, but he remember what it felt like to see Stiles hurt and laying on the ground. Damn guy tried to save his ass so many times that he grew on him- like a wart.
Then he does decide to say something. 

“You seriously shouldn't be embarrassed about that. You were being used as some bargaining chip and you had no choice.” 
Stiles feels stupid for even thinking anything of embarrassment toward that situation.  

Most of the things that they do are spent in silence. There's a few times where the cold hard truth via Jackson are exactly what he needs to hear. 
Jackson knows what it's like to be manipulated, to be used. He has the hands of a murderer. Blood of innocents fill his nightmares because he remembers it now. He's in control now and he remembers every second. 

They spend a week out doing things and they fall into a small routine. Derek is understanding and they talk each night. Stiles also talks to his father, and the one time he talked to Scott, all he could ask was “Why are you with Jackson?”
Jackson spends the same time talking to Lydia and that's how it is. 
In the mornings they eat small; usually cereal, some breakfast sandwich, or a burrito made with stuff they bought at the store. (They can't get take-out for every meal)
They each pay for their own lunch, and then Stiles pan fries a different meat each night. 
In between is when Stiles finds some peace in his life. 

On the first day, it's nearly night when they arrive. They'd taken off from Beacon Hills on the same day the idea came to mind. 
While Jackson does have enough money for staying in a different hotel every night, Mr. Whittemore had been quick to offer his own money when explained the reason for the trip. 

The first night is spent in Santa Barbara. They decide they'll make their way south and then just drive back up in one day. 
There's miles upon miles ahead, and lots of money, but Jackson had insisted when Stiles tried to take the idea back. 

“It's a lot of money if we account for-”
“I have money. Shut up and go back a bag.”

“I just, I need to warn you.” Stiles is sitting on the edge of his bed. The room is decent size with two queen beds. 
“About what?”
“The nightmares.”

When Jackson wakes up in the middle of night, it's not to screaming. Stiles' bed is empty and there's a horrible smell coming from the bathroom. 
There's a bitter laugh in response and Jackson makes way, trying to ignore the smell. 
He finds Stiles with his head over the toilet. He knows that neither of the two want to go into details so he asks if he's alright. When Stiles says he will be in a few minutes, he returns to bed. Eventually Stiles does too and that's it. 

The second day, they sleep in, considering the 7-Hour drive and they take advantage of the awesome beds. They grab lunch and the decide on heading straight to Malibu. It's an hour and a half drive down Pacific Coast Highway, but Jackson makes it enjoyable by leaving the top off the car. The wind runs through Stiles' now long hair and Jackson smirks at himself on the mirror. Even Stiles can't deny that he looks pretty bad-ass in the black convertible, but he's definitely not his type. 

This time they stay at a motel. They check in, then immediately go to the beach. Jackson walks around chatting up girls (which bugs Stiles until he finds out that him and Lydia remain close, but not a couple) and Stiles finds himself pulled into a game of Volleyball with strangers. They're nice and don't comment on the fact that he won't take off his tank top, having to stay on the "shirts" team. He doesn't feel like lying about the claw marks and small cuts again. 

They meet up again just before sunset and Jackson drives them back to the motel. 

Their days continue like that. 
The third day they head to Santa Monica and after that it's a blur. They drive all over LA county and see a bunch of different things. 

When they reach the Hollywood Sign, Stiles feels good, like really good. He breathes in fresh air and the city looks like a new beginning. 
“I always wanted to live in the city,” Jackson says. “I don't really see myself becoming any kind of law man like my father, but I see myself in a big city. It's kind of crazy and chaotic out there with how much is going on.” The "like me" part gets left out and Stiles just stares at Jackson. “I wouldn't mind getting lost in all of it.”

Stiles never realized that he and Jackson could be alike in so many ways. 

The walk back down is more about Stiles. 

“So what are you and Derek?” Stiles shrugs. 
“We're a couple, if that's what you mean, but we don't do too much. Aside from... reasons,  he has a bad history with relationships that includes Kate Argent and killing the first one. Plus, he's my first. I've never had a boyfriend, not even a girlfriend for that matter. I don't know how to "relationship" quite yet.” Jackson nods and thinks through why he said again. 
“He had to kill his first girlfriend?”
“The bite didn't take and she asked him to end the pain. It's why his eyes were blue as a beta. Same as you. It's the sign of having killed an innocent.” Before Jackson can be offended, Stiles adds, “It's the color my eyes would be if I were a werewolf.”

“Lydia says Scott is complaining about the fact that you won't call him back.” Stiles snorts and lifts the small shot glass to his mouth. 

How they even got into some high end club that still manages to look sketchy is behind Stiles. He knows that with his longer hair, he doesn't look as young, but he isn't carrying a fake ID with him to get past the door either. 
He supposes that Jackson has something to do with it. 

They'd been twenty minutes when they finally decided to mingle. Stiles navigated toward a group of girls that were way out of his league whether he was in a relationship or not.
They leave after Stiles nearly has a panic attack because a guy got close. It hadn't even been meant as much, other than for the guy to get hot grinding with strangers in. Luckily the stranger could tell he was uncomfortable and offered to help him find Jackson so he could leave. 

San Diego is all around calmer. They stop in the Imperial Beach area at a Drive-In movie and lay on the hood of the car. 
“If you scratch it, I'll kill you.”

Because the movie showings pay for two movies, the first one ends with people piling out of their cars to the small shop for snacks or to use the bathroom before the next movie come on. 
Jackson flirts with more girls and Stiles gets a number. 
“So you're just on a random road trip?” A girl with blonde hair asks. “That's hot.” 
Stiles snorts and almost chokes on his popcorn. 

When they actually visit the beach, Stiles adds more seashells to a growing collection and insists they also go to Coronado Beach and stay at Hotel Del Coronado. 

“This,” Jackson says one time during a run at sunset when they've paused to just look, “this is beautiful.”
Stiles has never ever ever heard Jackson Whittemore say something so sincere that he almost doesn't notice when he starts running again. 

The night before they end their road trip to head back up PCH, Stiles wake up crying. He doesn't really have a cause, but does he need one. He's been holding a lot in, so he just cries in silence for awhile.
He tried to keep it down so it wouldn't wake Jackson, werewolf hearing and all, but it doesn't work out. 
Jackson gets up and lays next to him, refuses to touch him, but just lays there. 
“We have around 200 left on my dad's road trip budget for us,” is what he decides to say. “We can use that for gas, and food tomorrow. We should definitely eat out tomorrow. But after another run on the beach.” It starts to distract Stiles and eventually his tears are drying out. “Well, you don't have to go, but I'm taking a run. Especially because I can't sit still for an right hour drive if I don't and I will not let you drive.” Stiles snorts and wipes his nose with the back of his hand.


The trip seems to be a success. He sounds corny saying it, but Stiles feels somewhat enlightened. 
His first thing to do after arriving home is unpack. He takes care of dirty clothes and tosses the rest of his toiletries on the bed to deal with later. It's just after dinner time so he decides to pick up Chinese food for dinner and eat with his dad at the station. 

His dad is very happy to see him. The sheriff is busy and tired, but smiles wide and welcomes him with open arms. 
“So be honest with me. How much did you spend? I feel like I should help pay for-” Stiles cuts his dad off. 
“Not much dad. Don't worry about anything I spent. I spent no more than probably one hundred and fifty because of Jackson. He insisted on paying for a lot of things because his dad have him like a crap ton of money. Like, he totally took advantage of all the money and I literally have at least five souvenirs-”
“Over explaining again?”
“Yeah. But that's good for you Stiles. Good for us too.” He leans forward and whispers, “I didn't say this, but if they want to but you a bunch of stuff don't complain.” Stiles laughs and they go on to talk about the trip. 
“I took some pretty crazy sunset pictures. Jackson even called the view beautiful once. I shat a brick,” he holds out his hands about two feet apart, “this big.”

After dinner, he goes to see Derek. He's still a little annoyed with Scott because after he'd been so bitter about the trip being with Jackson, he hadn't called or texted. He never even asked if Stiles was okay during that call, so, yeah. He goes to Derek's new loft. 

“Roomy,” Stiles comments about it. “You lack furniture style though, except the table. The table can stay.” Derek snorts, and other than that, they don't make much of a deal about Stiles being back. 
Stiles takes a seat next to Derek on the horrible sofa that is, and just leans into him. They're not too sexual toward each other, but comfort touching is a total yes. 
Derek's arm wraps around Stiles' shoulder and slings down over his chest. 
For a while they listen to each other's heart beats before he breaks the news about the Alpha Pack. 
“You've got to be fucking kidding me.” Stiles turns and buries his face into Derek's shirt. “I don't want an alpha pack.”
“You think I do?” Stiles just sighs. “Have you talked to Scott?”
“No. But I think I need- we need to talk. For now let's just be lazy, okay?”

Stiles falls asleep in Derek's arms. 

Three months later Derek gets seduced by his teacher. 


Chapter Text

Several things happened within the week that Stiles returned from his week trip with Jackson. One thing that he was happy about was that Allison was in France for the rest of summer, and it was uncertain if she was going to be returning for the next year of school. Scott had felt very conflicted in his feelings for her, after hearing about what she actually did the night Gerard took Stiles, but Stiles couldn't help but be annoyed that he loved her after that. Although he can also say that love does crazy things to people. Nevertheless, this lead to his and Scott's relationship riding choppy waters. 

Another thing that changed was Jackson's departure. After everything that had been happening, his parents found it best for him to move. He moved to London of all places, and Stiles did find himself a bit saddened by his departure. Though, Stiles was in no position for giving the Whittemores parenting advice, so he stood by Lydia's side as they watched Jackson board his plane. Him and Lydia became quite close after that. They didn't really label themselves as friends, but they both knew it'd grown into that. 

The rest of his summer amounted to almost nothing. He had helped Derek in the search for Boyd and Erica, but their effort was useless. He tried following the Missing Persons Reports through his dad, but that proved to go nowhere, too. in all of this searching, Isaac grew closer to, not only Derek but Scott, too. He continued to be indifferent to Stiles though, and Stiles found that he really didn't care. 

As school lurked around the corner, things started happening and fast. Isaac had managed to find Boyd and Erica, along with a mystery girl. Erica ended up being dead and the mystery girl ended up being Derek's sister. Cora was definitely a Hale, to say the least. She was very bitter, but mostly from living half her life as a half of a whole, a hole where her pack used to be. She disliked Stiles to an extent, and didn't care much for Isaac and Scott. Lydia had always held some kind of dominance in intelligence in hierarchy, and Cora could tell. She particularly disliked Allison, not having liked what Derek and Stiles had to say about her, and the there was Boyd, who she got along with very well. Seeing Boyd alive and well felt weird for Stiles, knowing that the last time they were both around each other they were being tortured. Stiles and Boyd may have never been friends, but there was a mutual, unspoken agreement that they both came to that let the other know they were okay. Then Cora had pushed Stiles right toward him, and a damn broke. He took the final step and Boyd opened his arms to his pack member. 

The absolute best part of everything, though, was the Alpha Pack and the Darach. The Darach had sacrificed a long time friend of his. He'd been with her on her last night. Stiles laughed bitterly when he figured it all out and had put the pieces together. A virgin. 

"You know that should have been me," Stiles tells Scott, "but I'm  just tainted goods." He mourns the loss of his friend and the loss of himself in the arms of his best friend that night, and for the first time in forever, he really feels like Scott is there for him. It feels like he has his brother back. 

Suddenly, Allison is working harder than ever to gain their trust, and she apologizes to Stiles. The best part is that he can really tell that she means it. There are tears as Allison tells him that maybe one day they can be friends again. 

More suddenly, Derek dies. Scott shows up just after midnight, after his dad has already gone into work for his night shift. Isaac is barely holding himself together, and Allison supports Scott. Stiles is rushing them into the kitchen and fretting over their wounds when Allison finally slows him down. Scott has him sit down, and then he tell him. There's a haunting silence that follows as it sinks in for Stiles. He sits speechless, without shedding a single tear while Scott tells the beginning of the story. 

He gets as fas as when Allison arrived, and from there she takes over, having had a better view of everything happening. Stiles vaguely acknowledges that she had saved Derek from choosing between Cora and Boyd, but then he's once again hit with the fact that Derek doesn't have to worry about anything anymore.

To his surprise, Allison begins to tear up, her words getting stuck in her throat, and that's when Stiles realizes that she was actually saddened by Derek's death.

He grabs her and holds her close as he finally lets himself cry. They hadn't been in a relationship very long, but it had been real. It had been his first real relationship and they had cared deeply for each other.


They have to go on with life the next day, because when someone's life ends, it doesn't end all of time, and the rest of life keeps going. Because it's Friday, they end up leaving class early for the cross country meet they nearly forgot about. Stiles is lucky he'd had his duffle bag packed and in the Jeep the previous night. Scott, on the other hand, rode home and back just in time for the bus to take off. The meet is pretty far up the highway, a couple hours, and Coach Finstock is pretty sure that it's going to run late, so he'd asked everyone to prepare to sleep somewhere. Though, many students weren't allowed to, so only half the team is there, only filling up one bus. Stiles and Scott make sure to sit all the way in the back, and Isaac and Boyd take a seat in the front. They almost forgot about everything, just worrying about such a simple school event, and are startled when Ethan gets on the bus with Danny in tow. His eyes meet Stiles' for a second before looking away. They sit together in the middle of the bus.

"I know it's hard, Stiles," Scott says, "but don't do something stupid." Stiles nods and hides his tears in the sleeve of his red sweater.


What no one saw coming was Scott not healing, Allison and Lydia stalking them, and then getting stuck at a random motel that the school hadn't approved of because of tornado warnings. And then Stiles spends his night saving all the werewolves from themselves, and for some unbeknownst reason, he even saves Ethan. If anything, he does it because the Darach can't win. No matter who this bitch is.


Then Ethan tells Stiles that Derek may be alive.



The first thing Stiles does after getting back to the school is head straight to Derek's loft. He doesn't know where else Derek would be if he is still alive. He leaves before Scott or anyone else can stop him because ehe has to know.

He prepares himself fort the worst, just in case. He's not sure if he's ready to feel the disappointment again, to feel the loss again if he doesn't find anyone there.

He's just pulling out his key when the loft door slides open. He's wasn't sure if it was going to be Peter, he prayed to God not, or Cora, or Derek himself, but he never expected to see his English teacher; she's wearing his shirt. Mrs. Blake is wearing the shirt that Derek always lent him. And Derek is staring in as much shock as his teacher.

He doesn't remember much after that. Scott, arriving not long after him, is who pulls him away from Derek. He's pounding on his chest and stabs him with his key to the loft before Scott finally drags him away. Even Isaac shakes his head when he follows Scott.