Chapter Text
Stiles stared contemplatively down at the phone in his hands. Unsure whether or not he should bring it with him to Mystic Falls.
Walking through the house Stiles felt brittle.
Reality felt like it was slipping through his fingers like sand.
The worst feeling of deja vu was washing over the gaunt teen.
Emptiness was pulling him under.
The walls of his childhood home were silently screaming at him.
That inherent feeling of love and safety irrevocably lost and ripped asunder.
Haunted with memories and ghosts at every turn Stiles quickly tosses his meager belongings in a duffle.
There was nothing left in this god forsaken hell hole for him.
Surveying his old room, Stiles felt empty inside. This place was no longer his home.
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Exhausted and starving Stiles stopped at the only place in town. And Stiles thought that Beacon Hills was small but Mystic Falls really took the cake.
As soon as Stiles got close enough to Mystic Falls his spark starts to crackle to life in reaction to the ambient supernatural activity in the area.
At first the whole point of moving all the way across the goddamn country was to hide from the fucking roller coaster his life had become.
Summer after senior year his dad had planned on bringing Stiles out to the east coast to visit his mother’s childhood home. Claudia had left it to Stiles to do what he wished with after he graduated.
After, Stiles cringed. Even thinking about his dad made him feel gutted.
Driving out of Beacon Hills like the hounds of hell were nipping at his heels, he had left with one thought in mind. Get the fuck out of dodge.
The more miles between him and Beacon Hills Stiles could feel more in tune with his spark. It was like this tiny flame that slowly grew into a towering inferno. Left with nothing but the open road and his thoughts Stiles came to several revelations about himself and how he got here.
Looking back, he could see how distorted and skewed his relationship with Scott and ultimately the pack as a whole really was.
He constantly put his own wellbeing both physically and mentally for his 'friends'. As if he were somehow less important than them. As if he wasn't worth fighting for. That it was somehow okay to sacrifice himself because he wasn't as worthy as the rest. As if that was all that he was good for. A tool to be used when needed but then shoved in a corner when he had finished doing what they wanted.
Stiles knew that he was as much to blame for that as much as the pack was.
Once you let mother fuckers slide, they start to think they can ice skate.
His dad died to protect him, and Stiles would do what he could to honor that sacrifice.
Starting with taking care of himself and becoming his own person without the pack.
Maybe it was days or weeks later of driving from one place to the next but eventually he remembered Mystic Falls and decided to go for broke. It’s not like he had anything left to lose.
Stomach gurgling with hunger broke Stiles from his thoughts. Hopping out of the jeep he stretched before biting the bullet and entering the only restaurant for miles.
His spark crackled to life under his skin letting him know that there were other supernaturals in the building. Internally Stiles sighed. Not sensing any immediate threats Stiles moved to the bar.
As he perused the menu Stiles could feel eyes on him.
A bunch of teenagers around his age a few booths down were not so subtly assessing him.
Further down the bar a guy in a black leather jacket with bright blue eyes winked at him.
Stiles rolled his eyes, Derek 2.0 here we go.
Internally he sighed, Stiles wondered at the likelihood of getting to eat in peace.
“I’m so hungry I will strip for a fucking grilled cheese,” Stiles mumbles under his breath as he picks up a laminated menu.
Derek 2.0 laughs as he sits down next to Stiles and gives him a crooked grin. “Not too sure how everyone else would react but please don’t let me stop you.”
Pointedly putting down his menu Stiles turns to call over a waiter.
“I’m Damon,” the welcome wagon holds out his hand to shake.
“You’re using my oxygen,” Stiles quips back without dropping a beat.
“Aww, don’t be shy-”
Snorting loudly Stiles gives his unwanted companion his undivided attention. “Gotta say that’s the first time anyone has called me shy in my life. Can I help you with something?”
Damon gives the honey eyed stranger a cocky smile while working his glamor, “Are you new to town or just passing through?”
The lithe teen raises a brow, "Wow, you really don't beat around the bush."
A brooding guy around Stiles' age leaves the group of teenage supes in the dark corner of the restaurant and comes and sits on the open seat on his other side.
Stiles wonders if every supernatural group has a guy with a resting bitch face and just oozes man pain from his pores. Though this one is a vampire, maybe it’s an interspecies thing.
And apparently that came out loud due to Heckle and Jeckle's reaction. Dammit, he forgot to take his meds.
You can practically see the steam coming off of Broody McBitchFace like old school Saturday morning cartoons.
"My milkshake brings all of the emotionally dysfunctional, selfish, narcissistic alcoholics to the yard."
Now the two vampires just look flummoxed.
"Sorry boys but I like my men like I like my tea, hot and british.”
"What." Ah, now that's a look Stiles has seen many times. Anger with a healthy dose of shock.
"Do you need me to say it in another language? How about nyet, nien, bu, nie, ani, nihil. How about in Spanish? No! Fuckin' a! I've been driving non stop for days and all I wanted was some food, but you can't even let me have that can you?" Stiles looks askance at the sky before turning back to the welcome wagon.
"But what are you?" The broody vampire couldn't help but pipe in undeterred by Stiles' rant.
Stiles gave a wicked smirk, "Trust me sweetheart, you've never met anyone like me."
"Really now love, I thought that was my line."
The tension in the dining room instantly rises with the arrival of a blonde British man.
Shit. His spark lit up at the arrival of the newcomer. With the last couple years he's had Stiles has honestly come up against things much worse than the hybrid before him.
Gerard Argent anyone?
The creature feature turns his light blue eyes on Stiles, "Hello, I'm Klaus."
Mmm, gotta love a man with an accent. Now however, was not the time to think with his dick.
"Good for you," Stiles snarks back as he eyes the newcomer dismissively, "Hate to break it to you dude but you're not the special little snowflake you seem to think you are. I mean sure the immortality thing is nifty but to me it seems more like a curse than a gift. I know I'm only 18 but being stuck on this shit show of a rock for the rest of forever would be an unimaginable hell."
Now all eyes are on him. They are incredulous and obviously think him more than a little off his nut.
Stiles just rolls his eyes.
Klaus on the other hand was intrigued, a human who had at least an idea of what he was and was not just unafraid but unimpressed. He needed to get to know this human.
Stiles claps his hands together, "Well, not that this meet and greet of the local supes hasn't been uber enlightening and everything, but I think it's time I headed home. So, you know peace out or whatever. I'd say it's been nice to meet you Kyle but we both know that would be a lie. See you later dude."
Stiles claps the guy on the shoulder and sedately leaves the restaurant.