Chapter 1
When Stiles walked through the front door, body throbbing with bruises, the last thing he wanted was a confrontation. Hoping to avoid his father, he quietly made his way up the stairs to his bedroom, only to find his father pacing around his room while on the line with one of his deputies. “Yeah, I’m not finding any clues here. Listen, if he shows up at the hospital– Okay, thanks.”
John sighed deeply, staring down at the phone before clenching it in his fist, closing his eyes tightly, and fighting back his desperation. “Come on Stiles, where the hell are you?”
Stiles swallowed tightly before answering, overwhelmed with guilt at making his father worry. “Right here.”
Turning, his dad took one look at him and rushed to his side, cupping his face and assessing the damage that Gerard had inflicted upon him.
He couldn’t help the weariness in his voice as he tried to calm his father. “It’s okay, Dad. It’s okay.”
His father’s voice was barely audible, shaking with rage. “Who did this?”
Stiles dropped his gaze, unable to look his father in the eye as he gave another one of hundreds of lies he’d been forced to tell since Scott had gotten the bite. “It’s okay, it’s just a couple of kids from the other team, you know they were pissed at losing. I was – I was mouthing off, you know, next thing I remember…”
Stiles felt his father’s presence more than saw his father still in front of him, holding his breath for a moment before he finally exploded. “That’s it, Stiles! I am done with all of this. All these lies and secrets. I am your father and I am supposed to keep you safe. I thought we were close enough for you to come to me with anything, but obviously whatever it is you’ve gotten yourself involved in is way over your head!”
Stiles tried not to slump under the disappointment and anger on his father’s voice, the bruises on his face pinching with the grimace he pulled. “Dad, I-“
“I don’t want to hear it, Stiles. I was out of my mind worrying about you! Jackson was killed out on that field and you went missing. I didn’t know what to think! You’ve changed so much in the last few months that I don’t think I know you anymore. The son I knew would never have gotten himself in these situations. It’s obvious that with how busy I am with work, I’m gone too often to keep an eye on you and make sure you’re out of trouble. So, I’m going to do the next best thing, I’m sending you live with your Uncle Phil in New York.”
Stiles gaped at his father in disbelief. “What the hell is this, Fresh Prince of Bel Air?! You can’t just send me away, Dad. I have a life here! What about school?! What about my friends?!”
The sheriff huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Where were those friends when you received those bruises, son? Are they also the friends causing you to lie to your own father? I don’t know if you’re in a gang, or taking drugs, or hell! For all I know you've created some kind of underground fight club. Whatever it is, it’s bad for you, Stiles. I’m finding you at crime scenes, you’re getting restraining orders put on you. I just don’t know what’s going on with you anymore, and you won’t let me in to help fix the issue. As your father, it’s my job to make the tough decisions, and this one is the best I could come up with. Phil and I have been talking about this for a while now, but this was the last straw. I’ll fax him your transcripts for your transfer and I’m putting you on the next flight out. You can make new friends there. It’ll be only for a year and a half, Stiles, until you graduate.”
Stiles couldn't help but flinch when his dad asked where his friends had been. He had asked himself the exact same thing, sure that Scott would have come for him. He was his best friend, wasn't he?
He couldn't help one last argument, trying to plead his case. “If you’re not home enough to keep an eye on me what makes you think Uncle Phil will be able to? Remember that whole year where we thought he was dead? Neither of you ever told me what he does, exactly, but I know it has to be military or some type of law enforcement job. My guess would be CIA; they usually have actual cover stories and fake jobs. ”
His dad once again ignored the question about Uncle Phil’s job, well used to his son’s machinations. “Phil has been assigned desk duty for a while and when he does get cleared for field work again, let’s just say that he knows plenty of well-trained guys who owe him enough favors to keep an eye on you if needed.”
“So I’m going to be sent to New York to be under constant surveillance by either Uncle Phil or any of his crazy military-trained spy friends? Don’t think I've forgotten about that Chinese woman that was with him last visit. I saw the look in her eye; I bet you she could snap someone’s neck without even batting an eyelash!”
The sheriff rolled his eyes. “You’re not going there to be jailed, Stiles. Phil will take care of you and keep you safe however he feels is necessary. It won’t be as bad as you think, trust me. You love visiting your uncle. He actually lets you do target practice while I think you should be kept as far away from firearms as possible.”
Stiles huffed. “I’ll have you know I’m a great shot, Dad! And just for that I’m going to have Uncle Phil take me to the range for bonding time. When I graduate I’ll be a better shot than you and beat your record once I join the Academy.”
He patted Stiles’ shoulder gently, his lips finally quirking in a half smile. “It’s nice to have goals, son, but keep an eye on your uncle. Tell me if he tries to enlist you, I’ll have his head.”
Stiles couldn't help but snort at that. “Like whatever department he works for would have use for someone like me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be packing.”
His dad gave him a concerned look. “Are you sure we shouldn't take you to the hospital and get you looked over?”
Stiles sighed deeply. “I’m fine, Dad. Nothing some rest and Tylenol won’t fix.”
When his dad finally left, Stiles threw himself down onto the bed, sighing in defeat. His thoughts fell on the events guiding him towards this exact moment, starting with his stupid idea of trying to find a body in the woods during the middle of the night, and followed by all the things he had kept from his dad and the trouble he’d caused him. Hell, his dad had almost lost his job because of him.
A soft knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. “Dad, I said I’m fine.”
A slightly more insistent rapping had Stiles sighing and hoisting himself off the bed to open the door, muttering to himself, “Come on Dad, how many times do I have to-“
He stared in shock at the last person he would ever have expected to be standing at his bedroom door — Lydia.
She stood there meekly, shoulders hunched as if expecting to be sent away, eyes puffy from tears, and yet still utterly beautiful. Her voice was hesitant and shy when she finally spoke. “Hi.”
Stiles stood there for a second, trying to come up with something to say, before he finally managed an awkward “Hi.”
Lydia shifted slightly on her feet before she spoke, just as awkwardly. “Y-your father let me in.”
Stiles couldn't help the surprise he felt at that, sure that his dad wouldn't have wanted anyone near him after the argument they had. “He did? I mean, yeah, of course he did.”
She looked at him and frowned lightly. “What happened to your…?”
Stiles let his body sway back, trying to act nonchalant, pointing to his face. “Oh, uh, yeah, no. It’s nothing, don’t worry about it uh, I’m fine.”
He waited a moment, staring at the girl he had been in love with for years, standing there, looking small and vulnerable, and so different from the strong and fierce woman he had known for years. He couldn't help the words that came from his mouth next. “You want to come in?”
She timidly stepped into his room, keeping her back to him.
Stiles stood there feeling awkward again before finally asking, “How are you doing?”
Her voice quivered as she finally said what she’d obviously been holding back, trying to stay strong. “They won’t let me see him. I’m supposed to give him something. He kept asking for it back.”
He watched her shoulders shake as the tears finally fell, a small wave of panic washing over him. “Stay there, I’m going to get you some tissues.”
He ran out of the room looking for a box of tissues, first downstairs in the kitchen, then in the living room, ignoring his dad’s inquiry about the girl in his bedroom. Then he ran back upstairs to check his dad’s room and the bathroom, before finally deciding on the best secondary option and grabbing a roll of toilet paper.
He found Lydia sitting quietly on his bed, her tears abated, and quickly sat at her side. “Hey sorry, I didn’t have any tissues, so, uh.”
She stared at them for a moment before finally sighing and grabbing one. “It’s fine. God, I am such a mess.”
She dabbed at her eyes with the toilet paper, sniffling, before Stile’s phone started to ring. She sighed. “You have seventeen missed messages from Scott.”
Stiles quirked his lip lightly, nodding. Lydia had obviously checked his phone while waiting. “I know.”
Lydia replied almost as an afterthought, her gaze moving to something in the corner of his room. “You were ignoring him?”
Stiles stared down into his hands. “No, no not really.”
Lydia rose from bed, making her way to Stiles’ dresser, eyeing the Macy’s bag and loose bracelets and jewelry strewn across the top.
She grabbed a thick bangle and turned to face Stiles a smirk on her face. “Why do you have women’s jewelry?”
Stiles head snapped up sharply before he jumped up in panic. “Uh nothing, just some stuff I bought, you know, for…your birthday.”
She looked confused. “For me?”
Stiles shuffled on his feet. “Yeah, I didn’t know what to get you so I just bought you like a bunch of stuff.”
He huffed lightly. “Like a lot of stuff. You know, I was going to return anything that I didn’t give you…”
Lydia couldn’t help the smile she gave him, turning lightly and leaning against the desk before noticing the box resting against the wall and looking at Stiles in disbelief. “A flat screen TV?”
Stiles chuckled. “Yeah, that I’m definitely returning.”
Lydia smiled, laughing lightly before the phone in her hand started to ring once more. Reading the text, her gaze fell on Stiles, intense. “It’s Jackson.”
Stiles grabbed the phone from Lydia’s hands and stared at the text, horror washing through him at what he was reading. Jackson wasn’t dead; he was somehow turning into something else, something worse than the kanima.
Lydia lifted her chin defiantly. “I have to go to him.”
Stiles tossed the cellphone to his bed in frustration. “How much do you know about this stuff?”
Lydia’s eyes became clouded, as if lost in memory. “Pieces. It’s like half of it’s a dream.”
He moved closer into Lydia’s personal space, anger boiling over. “Yeah, well guess what, the other half is like a friggin’ nightmare!”
She stared at Stiles, eyes wide and imploring. “I don’t care. I can help him.”
He stared back at her, disbelieving. “You see, that’s the problem. You don’t care about getting hurt. But do you know how I’ll feel? I’ll be devastated, and if you die, I will literally go out of my friggin’ mind.”
Stiles took a breath, clenching his teeth. “You see, death doesn’t happen to you, Lydia, it happens to everyone around you, okay? To all of those left standing there at your funeral, trying to figure out how to live the rest of their lives without you in it! Huh?”
He lunged forward pointing to his own face, causing her to cower back. “I mean, look at my face. Come on. Do you think this was meant to hurt me!?”
Stiles pulled himself away, breathing heavily, shocked at his own outburst, seeing the fear and shock in Lydia’s eyes. “I’m so sorry, I-“
Lydia shook her head, a small quiver in her voice. “It’s okay.”
She turned her back to him walking towards the door with purpose. “I’ll find him myself.”
Stiles sighed, his hand reaching out to her. “Hey Lydia, wait!”
He exhaled sharply, watching her walk away and helplessly plopped himself down at his desk, his forehead hitting the hard surface with a thunk, but he ignored the pain going through his body at the action. Why did he have to go and blow up like that?
He’d taken out his frustrations on her when she was already on the verge of tears, and he felt like a heel.
Lifting his head back up he grabbed his phone, reading the text left by Scott, letting them know they were moving Jackson and the location. He sighed, torn between staying there and being the good son and going to help his friends.
He noticed his dad out of the corner of his eye, leaning against the doorframe before he spoke. “She left, huh?”
Stiles grimaced lightly. “Yeah.”
His dad stayed in place, a small smile hitching his lips. “So, is there, uh, anything there?”
He couldn’t help the deep sigh that escaped him. “No, she’s in love with someone else.”
He heard his dad make a small huff of sympathy before moving to sit next to him with a serious look on his face. “Listen, I know getting beaten up and what happened to Jackson has left you pretty shaken. But be happy about one thing.”
Stiles looked up at his dad, brow raised, waiting for a response.
He smiled at his son before continuing. “The game. You were amazing.”
Stiles chuckled lightly. “Thanks, Dad.”
Stile’s dad shook his head, still smiling. “No, I mean it. It was pretty much over, and then you got the ball and you started running. You scored, and the tide just turned. And then you scored again, and again. You weren't just the MVP of the game, you were a hero.”
Stiles face fell. “I’m not a hero, Dad.”
His dad refuted his answer with a smirk. “You were one last night.”
With a final clasp of Stiles’ shoulder he left the room, leaving Stiles to sigh one last time. “I’m not a hero.”
He stared at his phone, images of Lydia getting ripped apart by Jackson swimming through his head. Finally, he rose from his chair and made his way downstairs, calling out to his dad that he was going to drive Lydia home.
And that was how he somehow ended up with Lydia in the passenger seat as he screamed like a little girl while ramming Jackson, in his kanima form, with his Jeep. Squinting, he looked to his best friend questioningly. “Did I get him?”
Scott couldn't help the goofy grin he gave his best friend before everything once again turned to hell, Scott holding him back while Lydia advanced on the kanima.
Then he had his heart broken once more as Lydia stood in front of the kanima, key in hand, and the power of her love transformed Jackson into a werewolf.
He stayed back, quiet as Lydia and Jackson, Allison and Argent scattered to deal with finding Gerard and getting Jackson back to the hospital, leaving Isaac, Scott, and Derek in the warehouse.
Scott finally turned on his best friend, asking, “Dude, where have you been? Not that I’m not thankful that you showed up, but we could’ve used you earlier.”
Stiles flinched. “Yeah, about that; we have a situation. Not that this wasn't a situation, of course. Saved by the power of love, no less.”
Scott gave Stiles his puppy eyes. “What is it?”
He gulped lightly, not sure how to word it. “Dad wants to send me to New York to live with Uncle Phil. I need help to find a way to change his mind.”
Derek snorted. “That’s a great idea. Get you away from all this supernatural crap. Not like we need you here anyway.”
Stiles gaped at Derek. “You guys would be dead without me! I've saved all of your asses multiple times! Who does all the research? Who called Matt right from the get-go? Who held your ass up for three hours in that pool!?”
Scott’s shoulders hunched slightly. “Derek might be right. Things have gotten pretty dangerous around here, Stiles. Maybe things would be better if you got away for a little while. You’re human, you don’t heal like we do.”
Stiles couldn't believe his ears. Not only did his best friend not take his side, but he agreed that Stiles should leave. After all the years they’d been together, after everything he had done since Scott was bitten, the lies to his dad, the hours of research, the lack of sleep. Hell, he’d taken a beating for him.
Something broke inside of him and he turned his back on him, voice quivering with barely concealed rage. “Scott, I wasn’t talking about just leaving for the summer. I won’t be coming back until I graduate, maybe not even then, since I don’t plan on going to college in Beacon Hills. But I see I’m not needed here. You can both deal with your own shit from now on. Just don’t drag my father into it. If he gets hurt because of the two of you I will personally fly back and shove wolfsbane down your throats.”
He stormed out of the warehouse as his former best friend called his name, but he ignored it. He was done with them, so done with everything. If this is what everyone wanted, he would give it to them. He would go live with his Uncle Coulson in New York. At least his uncle enjoyed spending time with him, and he also could make new friends, right?