The pack meeting was called suddenly, by Derek of all people, and that usually meant something bad was happening. So, naturally, to soothe a group of hungry werewolves, Stiles bought four large meat lovers pizzas to take with him. It was obvious, really. Soothe the man eating beasts with lots of greasy, meaty, cheesy goodness.
When Stiles pulled up outside of the Hale house in his jeep, he paused for a moment. It was… strange. Everyone’s cars were parked outside, and it was unusual to see everyone already there, ahead of Stiles. It was almost as if they had started without them.
But they were a pack. They wouldn’t do that. Would they?
No. Stiles could feel the twinge of the pack bonds, warm and swelling in his chest, reassuring himself that he was pack and part of the group, and loved. The bonds helped to ease some of his anxiety that naturally hummed under his skin, the soft presence assuring him that there were at least these people to make sure he was safe.
After a brief moment of checking and making sure the bonds were still there, that the love he felt was still strong and bright, he hopped out of the jeep and grabbed all four pizzas, managing to balance them in his arms as he walked to the door. Just as the cardboard boxes were set down, there was a loud voice from inside. Stiles froze where he was standing, cursing his human hearing for the first time in a while. They were arguing.
He was torn; should he go in and try to calm the situation, or should he leave it to be dealt with? Listening in through the door won out, in the end. And what he heard would change him for a very, very long time.
Derek had called everyone to his home to talk about the pressing matter on everyone’s minds. Stiles. He was the human of the pack, and had recently been the focus of the last few attacks on the pack. He was the weakest member - with Derek, Scott, Isaac, Boyd, Erica, and Jackson as wolves, and Lydia a banshee, paired with Malia and Kira, they had the supernatural elements covered. Even Allison, the other resident human, had extensive training and self defense knowledge. Stiles was the weakest link.
So when Derek brought up the idea of pushing him from the pack, he was met with varying reactions. At first, it was complete resistance from everyone but Jackson. But after the reasoning was explained - it would keep him safe, distanced from the pack and the people that could hurt him - more of the pack started to accept the idea. Everyone but Scott and Lydia, really.
It had taken everyone by surprise when Scott had literally growled at Derek. They were co-Alphas, so fighting between those two could be very, very dangerous. Isaac had been the first to notice Stiles’ scent coming closer and staying outside of the door, as well as the pizzas. When Isaac suggested that the growling match stop was when the yelling started, by Scott, of course.
“How can you guys just take this lying down?! This is Stiles. Human of the pack, best researcher we’ve got - no offence Lydia - and he’s smart, in case you haven’t noticed. We need to be able to keep him safe! Pushing him from the pack would make it harder to do that!” he yelled, his eyes flashing red when he glared back at Derek, who growled before raising his own voice in response.
“You think I want to put Stiles in danger? Pack is family, Scott! But he’s doing more harm than good to himself at this point, and he needs to distance himself from us. We need to push him out. Stiles isn't pack anymore,” Derek frowned, his eyebrows drawing together as he glared at Scott.
Neither of the Alphas were open enough to their surroundings to hear or smell Stiles outside of the door; and not even the salty damp scent of tears didn’t break through their angry haze. What finally did was the sound of the Jeep door slamming shut, the engine starting, and Stiles practically ripping out of the driveway to get home. Home. Not the Hale house. Not the place he had considered home a few hours ago.
It took Scott a moment to make his way to the door and open it, and the residual scent of grief and sadness and self-hatred combined with greasy meat pizza told him that Stiles had been there. He had heard. Stiles knew.
Scott turned sharply and growled, low and rough, and practically pounced on Derek. “He was there! He heard us!”
Derek scoffed, trying to put a front over his pain. He had lost Stiles. His Stiles. “Good. We won’t have to tell him.”
Stiles had to pull over on his way home thanks to emotions. He was tempted to reach down for the pack bonds in his chest to reassure him, but they felt a little weaker. So he settled for an appropriate pain response to try and pull him out of his fairly bad anxiety attack, and dug his nails in the skin around his wrist, leaving behind deep half moons, bruised from the pressure. He was able to take heavy, shaking breaths at that point, and let out a soft sigh. Fuck.
He wasn't pack. But the bonds were still there - weak, but still there. It was hard to think about no more puppy piles, no more cuddling and help with nightmare and taking the pain away when he was on the cusp of a panic attack. He wasn't pack.
It weighed heavy on his shoulders as he drove home, pulling into the driveway and shutting the jeep down, pausing to breathe and control the light tremors in his hands. Pack had been... Everything. He felt safe, happy, with those wolves. But they left him.
On feet that felt too close to jelly for Stiles' comfort, he moved to walk to the front door and enter slowly, toeing out of his shoes before moving to his room. He managed to make it up to his room before collapsing into the bed, and just... Crying.
Wailing, snot and tears all over the place kind of crying that made it seem like his world was ending. Breathing was shaky and he couldn't stop the flood of tears; the last time he had cried that hard was when his mom had died.
The memory of his mother pulled Stiles together a little better. This wasn't as bad. He felt the weak pack bonds in his chest and nodded, trying to sit up and breathe. Of course he was tired from all the crying, and he felt his eyelids droop gently and he curled up in bed, eyes puffy and red and face wet with tears.
He slept for a good few hours, and he was only woken by a hand on his shoulder. Stiles opened his eyes with a yelp, and looked up at his dad, a frown pinching his face.
John smiled faintly and rubbed his hand up and down Stiles' upper arm, "hey, kid. You doing alright? I haven't seen you crashed that hard in your jeans for a while."
Stiles nodded, "yeah. Just... Yeah. I'm fine. I'll be fine, I promise. I just... Need time."
John huffed, "you need to talk to me, Stiles. I can't help if you're not honest."
And Stiles paused before telling him. Everything. How they were looking for the body and Scott was attacked and turned. Finding Derek. When he made the pack a pack. Refining in the Hale house so the pack had a home. Gerard and the torture he put on all of the pack members including Stiles, the stress the pack was under. The puppy piles and how Isaac helped with nightmares. The nogitsune. His spark. And Derek kicking him out of the pack, and how that hurt worse than he thought it should because he was his Alpha and he actually cared for Derek as a little more than a friend.
John listened in mild states of distress, but moved to pull Stiles into a tight hug once he had finished, ignoring the fresh tears on his son's cheeks.
"Do you want to go somewhere else?" John asked after a moment, pulling back from the hug and running his hand up and down Stiles' back. "Uncle Phil might be able to take you. You could finish up school in New York. How does that sound, huh? Distract yourself from the... Pack?"
Stiles looked up with wide eyes, "really? You think we could call and find out? I think distance would help. The bonds are weak, and it's only a little longer before they break unless I go and affirm them, okay? And like yeah I think I need time. To... Get over the pack. Find a new one, maybe."
John looked a little doubtful, but nodded and clapped a hand to Stiles' shoulder. "I'll call up uncle Phil in a bit, alright? Do you want to eat, or am I eating salad on my own tonight?"
Stiles gave a little smile, "you think you can stick to your diet if I go to bed? Crying takes a lot out of you."
The teen watched as John left the room slowly, a small and sad smile on his face. Stiles soon burrowed under his blankets, but paused before moving to his window. He shifted to put a quick circle of mountain ash around the house, helped to spread by his spark.
He moved to settle back into bed and fall into an uneasy sleep, feeling the least bit secure that no wolves would be creeping into his window tonight. And maybe tomorrow would be different. Maybe there would be a glimmer of hope in his future - to stay with his Uncle Phil and finish school in New York.