Just When I'd Given Up Dreaming

He sat in front of his mirror staring at himself. Looking at himself in disgust. How could he let that happen? How could he do that to her? To him? Tears began to puddle in his eyes. He couldn’t see; he needed to see the monster inside of him so he blinked them away and let the guilt consume him. In that moment in time his thoughts over powered his actions. He just sat there shaking.

In her last moments he turned away. He thought it would be easier that way. In his mind if he didn’t see, it didn’t happen. So he looked away with his eyes tight shut. He thought if he looked away the pain would stop, but in reality it only got worse. There was so much pain, guilt, disgust in him that he needed it gone. It was going to break him if he left it buried away.

His hands started to tremble when he picked up the blade. He didn’t want to do it – he needed to do it. He needed a way to escape, he needed release. He just wanted to pain and guilt to stop. Doing this seemed like the only reasonable action to take. Slowly, he moved the blade until it was placed over his wrist. As he looked at the reflection he knew there was no going back.

He looked himself dead in the eye and with a broken whisper said, “I’m sorry…” He then closed his eyes, took a deep breath and pressed the blade to his skin; with one quick movement he let out a shaky breath and smiled. He felt better? He watched as the blood started appearing from the tear in his skin. He was transfixed with the beauty and meaning it held.

“Stiles, come on. I know you want to be left alone but you need to eat, dinners on the table.”

Stiles blinked himself into reality. He didn’t regret what he had just done, he just didn’t want his dad to know. He moved himself from the floor and went to clean his cut. As he watched the red flow away he thought he couldn’t wait to see the sight again. To feel how he felt in that moment.

As he came back in his bedroom he hid his blade somewhere no one would find. He opened his wardrobe door and took out the first long sleeved shirt he saw.

That was the day he started wearing plaid shirts. That was the day looked away. That was the day his mother died…

----

Seven years later…

Stiles sat crossed legged in the middle of his bed with the light turned off. His room was lit by the moon shining through his window; for once he felt at peace. It was times like these that he held dear to him. Were he was able to sit and relax without anything crazy going on.

Stiles reach under his bed and pulled out his diary. He would deny it was his if anyone found out he had one. He opened to a clean page and started to write.

The last year was, well hell would be an understatement. Where to begin: a psychopath alpha werewolf bit my best friend when we were in the woods looking for a dead body that was severed in two, Scott then turned into a werewolf and nearly killed me when I told him the cold facts of the matter. Seriously he clawed my chair and pushed me up against a wall – it wasn’t a pleasant moment.

Then Derek Hale comes back to town; turns out he’s a werewolf looking for the alpha and then there’s the Argents. Surprise surprise, they’re werewolf hunters. And Allison Argent is dating Scott. Yadda yadda yadda crazy shit happened. The alpha turned out to be Derek’s comatose uncle and he went on a killing spree killing everyone who started the Hale fire. Which include Allison’s aunt Kate. We then took down Peter (the alpha) and Derek had the final kill which means he became the Alpha. Oh and Peter mauled Lydia on the lacrosse field and she spent a good amount of time in the hospital.

By the way I’m missing out some stuff because I don’t think it’s that important; like Allison finding out Scott’s a werewolf and Chris Argent threatening me and Jackson until we told him where Derek and the alpha was. That’s classed as normal believe it or not.

Then Derek bit Jackson, Isaac, Erica and Boyd…Yay, more werewolves with emotional problems. What could possibly go wrong?

Lydia didn’t turn into a werewolf; she is immune – whatever that means. Then it turns out that Jackson was a kanima who was being controlled by Matt (who is a stalker). Matt then took the police station as his domain and killed everyone there. Scott, my dad, Mellissa, Derek and I were trapped. Mellissa found out that Scott was not human. And then the hunters came and tried to kill us all.  

It then turns out that Matt was kill by Gerard Argent (Allison’s granddad) and he took control of Jackson. Peter came back from the dead using Lydia. Urmmmmmm… oh yeahh there was this big showdown in a warehouse thingy. Scott made Derek bite Gerard and then his body rejected the bite and he disappeared. Derek and Peter killed Jackson and he came back to life as a werewolf. He and Lydia are together. Scott and Allison are together. Hell even Boyd and Erica have a thing going on. Not to mention that Isaac is becoming Scott’s new bro…  

It’s been two weeks since all of that happened and I never felt the need to write it down until now. They’ve all got each other and I’ve got no one. Since Scott smoothed things out with Derek, he’s became a part of their pack – even Allison and Peter are in it!  

They’re like this big happy family who’ve all been through the same shit and are now ‘friends’. And where do I fit into this? I don’t. I’m not a part of the pack and I doubt I ever will be. They only need me when they need some research on the new supernatural creature that’s rolled into town.  

I’m living in a town full of fucking werewolves and no one can see that I’m falling apart. That I’m destroying my body because I’m a worthless human who is too weak and spastic to do anything with. I mean who would want to be friends with someone with ADHD. Fuck… why is this my life? Trust me, I’d have killed myself by now if it wasn’t for my dad. I can’t bear the thought of him being alone. At least I still have him…

Stiles closed the book and placed it back under his bed. Summer break had just begun and he had no clue what to do with himself. He left room and went to get some food. What better way to spend his night then eating and gaming; it’s not like I have anything better to do.

“Dad? You want anything passing in?” he called out. Silence.

“Dad?” Stiles wandered around the house and his dad was nowhere to be seen. There was most likely a reasonable explanation, but his heart beat started to rise. This wasn’t good. He backed into a wall and slid down until his legs were tucked underneath his neck. His breathing was uneven and he couldn’t gain control. Stiles sat there and let the panic attack take over him; it would be over soon. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. It was a message from his dad.

From: Dad

Won’t be home until tomorrow. Working a double shift. Don’t wait up.

Stiles laughed at himself. “I officially have no one…”

Once he had calmed down he picked himself up and walked heavily to his bedroom and dropped to the floor in front of the mirror. This became a usual ritual for him. If he needed to cut he would sit in front of his mirror so he could see the reason why this all started. Why he needed to do it.

He reached over a grabbed a book from his book shelf and shuck it until the blade fell out. It was a great place to hide something special as no one would ever pick up a book in his generation – it was all technology, sex and parties. Stiles rolled up his sleeve and revealed an arm which was home to hundreds of scars. He placed the blade over a patch of skin which was healed and cut. He watched as the blood seeped from his skin and he kept cutting. He wanted his thoughts to stop. He wanted to have meaning and he didn’t want to be alone. Stiles looked at his reflection and curled his nose up at what he saw. He dropped the blade and cried out in anger – he took his fist to the mirror. The glass shattered as something shattered in him. Heavy breathing filled the room and all stiles could do was laugh. He laid back and laughed for the first time in ages. He laughed until his chest hurt.

Stiles turned his head and watched time tick by. After twenty minutes had passed he got up and cleaned up the glass.

“Awesome... Now I need a new mirror.” he muttered.

Once his room was clean and the blade was back in its home he stripped out of his clothes and went into the shower. He stood still as the water ran down his body. And he smiled when the water turned red. Stiles closed his eyes and moved so his head was tipped back and the water was bouncing off his face. He stayed in the shower until the water ran cold.

As he wrapped a towel around his waist he looked down to see what damage he had done.

“Great…”

His arm was covered in twelve new cuts and the skin from his knuckles was gone. There was times when it was worse than this, but it was always in places no one would see. Now he had to come up with an excuse for what happened to his hand.

The next part came easy to him. He took out the first aid kit from under the skin and started to clean his wounds. Once that was done he wrapped his hand in a bandage and put plasters over some of his smaller cuts.

Stiles looked at himself in the bathroom mirror and smiled. What he was feeling didn’t last long, but he always knew to embrace it before it was gone.

That night was the first time in ages he didn’t cry himself to sleep.

----

“Stiles get up. It’s one o’clock. I’m not going to let you sleep away these next few months.” The Sheriff shuck Stiles until he heard a groan.

“Daaaaaaaad. Come on, let me sleeeeeeeeep.”

“You’ve slept long enough. Now get up.”

Stiles cracked his eyes open and saw his dad stood over him. He huffed out a breath and carefully sat up so his arms were hidden by the blanket.

“There. Are you happy now? I’m up. Now shu so I can get dressed.”

Stiles waited until his dad left the room before he got out of bed. Seven years and he had no clue. He always wondered how he was getting away with it for so long. The closet people to him didn’t know what he was doing to himself; sometimes Stiles thought that they didn’t care about him so they never noticed. Other times he pinned it on them not wanting to see. He also thought that he was an amazing liar, but then he questioned the werewolves’ abilities. Nothing made sense to him so he stopped wondering about it.

Once he was dressed he looked at his phone and saw he had a message from Scott.

“That’s strange.”

He opened the message:

From: Scott

Come to Derek’s loft at 1:30. Pack meeting.

Stiles re read the message over and over in his mind. The words pack meeting surprised him the most. Was he really pack? He checked the time noticing he had ten minutes to drive across town. If he left now he would just make it on time. He grabbed his keys and ran out the house calling out “Going out. Don’t know when I’ll be back.”

As he got in his beloved jeep he sent a quick text to Scott telling him he’s on his way.



Stiles looked around the loft and it looked like he was the last person there. Great. As he made his way over he felt like everyone had a place but him. Lydia and Jackson were sat in the love seat near the window, Erica was sat in between Boyd’s legs on the floor, Scott and Allison were cuddling on the couch with Isaac sat next to them, Peter took his place on the spiral stairs and Derek stood with his back to Stiles, but facing everyone else.

“Glad you could make it Stiles, now sit down. We have things to talk about.” Derek said without even looking at him.

He looked around and returned the smile Scott sent to him. In the end Stiles leaned against a wall and looked up so see Derek giving him a weird look. Normally Stiles wouldn’t think twice about getting weird looks off people, but this time it felt different. Like Derek knew something and that worried Stiles.

What if he knows? Can he smell it on me? I mustn’t have cleaned the blood up properly. Crap. He knows and he’s going to try and talk to me. Ha Derek Hale talking to me about my emotions. I would love to see that happen. The sourwolf can barely keep a conversation going. I would pay money to see him talk about his feelings or anything human for that matter. I wonder what-

“Stiles?”

Stiles snapped out of his thoughts and looked up and saw that everyone in the room was staring at him. It was unsettling. His hands twitched.

“Yeah?”

“Well, what do you think?” Lydia asked. Crap what on Earth were they talking about. Think Stiles, think.

“Urmm …”

“Do you think it’s the alpha pack? You’ve read enough on werewolves to know if it was or not.”

Wait what! There’s an alpha pack in Beacon Hills. Shit I should really start paying attention.

“It’s possible.” He said with uncertainty.

“Great. That’s all we get? Why the fuck are you here if that’s all you can say?”

Stiles swallowed down the lump in his throat, he didn’t want to back down and appear weak. If he did then he knew for certain that they would never bother him again – nobody wants to be dealing with someone who’s weak, they just hold you back. He mustered up all of his courage and replied.

“Go to hell Lizard boy. At least I helped kill a murderer and didn’t become one!” he snarled back. He looked at Peter, “No offence.”

Peter gave his bad touch smile “None taken.”

He turned back to look at Jackson, but instead he saw a wolfed out version of him in his face.

“Say that to me again, I dare you!” Jackson pinned him against the wall with his claws at Stiles’ neck. The room went silent. He heard growling from behind Jackson, but had no clue who it was coming from.

Stiles just laughed in his face, “What are you deaf now too. Did you not hear me the first time Lizard boy?”

“Stiles shut up. Do you have a death wish or something?”

Jackson growled in his face, but Stiles was unfazed by it. He’s not scared of dying so why be scared of a werewolf threatening your life? Stiles moved his neck forward until the claws had enough pressure on them to break the skin.

“Go on Jackson. Do it? I dare you…” he bit out.

Jackson’s eyes went wide and he shifted back. Stiles’ eyes never left his. Not even when Derek pulled Jackson from his face. Everyone shifted uncomfortably. No one knew what to say.

“Everyone out, now.” Stiles was the first to move, but Derek held out his arm to stop him from moving, “Not you.”

Stiles watched everyone leave, but no one turned back to look at him. Not even Scott. Stiles laughed to himself.

“What’s so funny?”

Shit. He forgot Derek was there.

“Nothing.” He said and he dropped to the couch and relaxed. That wall was extremely uncomfortable.

He put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. He was so tired, he could just fall asleep. But he couldn’t since he felt Derek’s brooding eyes on him.

“What do you want Derek?”

“For starters I want you to look at me.” Stiles huffed out a breath and opened his eyes to look at Derek.

“Happy?” he asked bitterly.

Derek just rolled his eyes. “Why did you do that?”

“Do what?”

The eyebrows on Derek’s head knitted together. “You know what. Why did you move into his claws? You could have been killed!” Derek’s voice started to raise.

Stiles smiled, “You and I both know he would never have killed me. As much as he hates me, he doesn’t have to balls to do it.”

Derek just stared giving him that weird look again.

It made Stiles nervous, “Can I go now?”

“No.”

“Great. What else Derek?” Stiles eye’s followed Derek’s until he was looking at his bandaged hand. He couldn’t lie because Derek would easily figure it out and make him tell the truth. But at the same time he couldn’t be honest. Derek would never understand. He’s too emotionally challenged to understand something this complex. So Stiles just raised his eyebrows and brought his hands onto his lap. They both stayed silent, looking at each other.

Derek sighed, “Stiles tell me what happened to your hand.”

“Why do you care?” it was out of his mouth before he could stop himself. Derek looked taken back by the words.

“I care because you’re pack and pack look out for each other.” He stated. And Stiles laughed in his face.

“Derek, let’s be honest. I’m not pack so don’t lie.” Derek flinched back at his words and Stiles felt the guilt build inside of him.

“Of course you’re pack. Why wouldn’t you be?”

“Well you’ve never said. I thought I was just there when you needed someone to do the research. It’s not like anyone in your pack talks to me unless they need something, including you.”

At this point Stiles was stood up and he was waving his arms about. He looked down and saw Derek’s expression. He looked sad, disappointed, sorry? Whatever he made Derek feel, it didn’t make him feel any better.

“Stiles, I never told you because I thought it didn’t need to be said and I –“

“Save it Derek. If you actually want me to be pack, if you even care about me and want to know things,” he waved his bandaged hand in front of Derek “then how about you actually being in my life and talking to me. And not just when you need something. It’s not a hard thing to do Derek.”

Stiles didn’t wait around for his response, he left the loft, got in his jeep and drove.

----

He sat on the hood of his jeep and looked up at the stars. Everything was quiet and peaceful. Just how he liked things. His phone kept on vibrating so he looked at it and saw he had four miss calls off his dad and ten unread messages.

“Oh my God. I don’t answer my phone for like five hours and he starts to worry.” He muttered to himself whilst he turned it off.

“Well maybe you should and people wouldn’t worry.” A familiar voice said.

“Fucking hell. Are you trying to kill me?” Stiles gasped while he held his chest.

He heard footsteps come closer and then to a stop.

“What do you want Derek?” he asked without taking his eyes off the stars.

“Just move along will you.”

Without hesitation Stiles made room for Derek and Stiles moved his glaze from the stars to Derek. He raised his eyebrows indicating for Derek to answer his question.

“Believe it or not Stiles, we were worried. Once your dad couldn’t reach you he phoned Scott. And when Scott didn’t know where you where he texted the pack and said that you were missing. We’ve been looking for you for hours.”

“Well fuck. I didn’t mean for anyone to be worried. I just needed time to myself.” Not that I don’t have enough of that already he thought.

“Just don’t do it again.” And there was that weird look again, but only this time it didn’t make him feel nervous; it made him feel warm…

He didn’t know how to reply so he just whispered ok. A small smile grew on Derek’s face and it melted Stiles’ heart. He couldn’t help but smile in return. They stayed like that for a while. Just laid there under the stars looking at each other.

Derek was the first to break the silence. “So you gunna tell me what happened to your hand.” His eyes shifted briefly from his eyes to his hand then back.

“I punched my mirror.” Stiles simply stated.

“Why?”

“I got…angry”

“Does it hurt?” Derek looked as vulnerable as Stiles felt and he was feeling something he hasn’t felt in a long time, but he couldn’t put a name to it.

“Not really.” Stiles breath took a sharp intake when he felt Derek’s hand enclose around his. He looked down and saw black going up Derek’s veins. He tried to move his hand away, but Derek shuck his head and it was left at that.

He looked back into Derek’s eyes and found understanding. Of course Derek would understand doing things in the heat of the moment when you’re angry; he’s had a life time of anger so Stiles felt relieved when Derek didn’t press for more about the incident.

Stiles smiled at Derek before turning to look back at the stars. Something about having Derek next to him made him feel safe. Safe from everything, everyone and himself. He noticed that Derek still had hold of his hand even though he wasn’t taking any pain. His heart fluttered and he closed his eyes. He wanted to remember this moment. To look back on it and cherish it.

Tomorrow he would worry about the alpha pack. And tomorrow he would question what happened tonight. But right now, in this moment, his mind was clear and everything felt right. Everything felt normal…