From the Ashes

From the Ashes: Chapter One

After the Nogitsune kills Allison, Scott sees red.

Once the dust settles-barely-Scott makes a decision: Stiles has to go. First stop is the Sheriff's Office.

When Scott gets to the station his plan is already in place. All it takes is-"Sheriff? Stiles didn't make it. The Nogitsune is all that remains."

Noah's face goes pale white, and he is grief stricken but he still won't let Scott kill the vessel because-"He's my son, Scott."

Scott barely suppresses an eye roll because no the fuck IT isn't but for the sake of his plan he lets that go and instead-"Then the only other option is an asylum, sir. You and I both know it."

With no other options-according to Scott-Noah, with a heavy heart, signs the papers to have Stiles committed.

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Stiles is upstairs in his childhood bedroom working on an essay when they come to take him. He is terrified and doesn't understand because he's Stiles.

Right?

He tries to count his fingers, but they won't let him because now he's got a strait jacket on. Stiles's panic is rising but no one is doing anything to help him. "DAD?!" he cries out as he's led down the stairs, seeing his father in the kitchen.

Noah looks pained which maybe that's a cause for hope but before Stiles can say anything else there's a muzzle put on him and he tries to fight it.

His dad turns his back to them, and Stiles sees him grabbing the bottle of scotch. He knows his dad isn't going to help him but why? Why isn't he stopping them?

He's Stiles.

Right?

Immediately, Stiles goes to count his fingers but remembers he can't. He tears his eyes away from the house, knowing no help is coming and tries to fight back his tears. He's pretty sure he is going to pass out from sheer panic and terror alone.

Then his eyes lock with the robed worker who put the muzzle on him and-Stiles-h-he-he recognizes those eyes. Scott?!

Well, that's what he would've said if he could speak but when he sees the cold icy glare shot his way, his hope is snuffed out.

Scott's voice is low and, in his ear, so only Stiles can hear him. "You're going to go away where you can't spread more of your evil. You're going far away for the rest of your life. No one will look for you. No one will come for you. Your pathetic excuse for a father believes there's nothing left in you but darkness. I don't think he ever really believed that the evil demon child who killed his wife was gone. Of course, he wouldn't say yes to you dying. So, although this isn't what I'd choose, it'll suffice. Anything to get rid of you for what you've done."

All of this said in a venomous whisper with a bruising grip on Stiles's neck. He's frozen in terror as the memories of his mother's accusations of him being a demon trying to kill her flood his mind. Then the drunken ramblings of his father agreeing that he killed her follow. He can almost feel all those bruises from being beaten over and over again when his father was drunk, all over again.

His mind is far away, his eyes unseeing and then he's being loaded into the transport van. There's a prick on the back of his neck and his world goes dark.

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When Stiles wakes up, he's in a bed but he's bound to it, so he doesn't fight it. What's the point? he asks himself. His dad believes his son is dead and Stiles wouldn't be surprised if his dad is relieved at that.

Scott fucking McCall has committed so many felonies and betrayed him. There's nothing left. He's all alone now. All alone.

"Hello?" says a voice he thinks comes from across the room. Stiles turns his head to the left, his eyes falling on a blonde guy who looks to be his age, but he doesn't recognize him.

He wants to say hello but of course the fucking muzzle. Then he tries to talk to the guy with a look-like he and Scott-well like he and the old Scott used to-but Stiles doesn't know how successful he is.

The guy doesn't seem deterred from speaking. It's a good thing he's willing to carry the conversation. That's usually Stiles's thing but with the muzzle-like a damn dog-there isn't really any other option except silence, and he'll give anything for there not to be silence.

"I'm Isaac and I'm your room-well um your roommate. I guess." The guy-Isaac-seems nervous but also eager. "We don't have to talk because-I mean-well you can't yet but if you don't want me to talk I won't. You'll have the muzz-the um-talking won't be possible until it's been 48 hours. They didn't tell me your name yet, but you look nice. I mean I've been wrong before, but I don't think I am this time."

He says it so certainly it makes Stiles want to cry. So, he does. Surprisingly Isaac starts to softly sing, and Stiles is reminded of his mom. Singing was always her way of soothing him.

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For some reason they don't take off Stiles's muzzle until it's been almost a week, not even to eat and Isaac's growing concern doesn't sway them one bit.

When Stiles's eyes flutter open sluggishly on the sixth day it's to see two hands unlocking the muzzle and removing it. He doesn't do anything other than pass out exhausted. He does feel his head being moved and then set back down but isn't sure what's happening. Stiles is hungry, thirsty and so fucking tired.

Fingers running through his hair, make him stir and blink his eyes open sleepily. Curly blonde hair is the first thing he sees followed by bright blue eyes. "'Ello," he croaks.

Isaac's eyes widen and he smiles relieved. "Thank fuck man," he says his body losing its tense state. "I was worried you'd died."

Stiles shakes his head once and then realizes it's a bad idea when he feels like he might throw up. Although, he doesn't know if there's anything to throw up. "Foo'? 'Rink?" he asks in a weak voice.

"Oh!" Isaac exclaims and grabs out a bottle of water he stashed under his pillow and someday old fruit. He blushes guiltily. "I couldn't save much but I have these."

"'Hank you," Stiles croaks and debates how he's going to sit up when Isaac makes the choice for him by holding a piece of the fruit to his lips. It makes Stiles's cheeks twinge pink, but he parts his lips and almost moans at the sweetness.

Isaac feeds him the rest of the fruit piece by piece and then helps tilt his head up so he can drink the water. When the food and water are finished Isaac moves to get up, but Stiles grips his hand as tight as he can and shakes his head uncaring of the nauseous feeling making a reappearance. "Don't leave me," he whispers.

"I won't," Isaac promises as he climbs back into the bed and curls around the other boy. "I won't leave you."

"Promise?" Stiles murmurs nosing at Isaac's neck in a subconscious gesture.

Isaac smiles. "I promise."

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Isaac and Stiles become fast companions and Isaac keeps the nightmares away. Stiles startles awake the first time Isaac climbs into bed with him at night. "I'm sorry. You were crying and since you were asleep, I didn't know if the singing would help. So, I'm offering cuddles. Unless you're uncomfortable in which case I'm sorry um I can go-"

Stiles wraps his arms around Isaac and clings to him. "Don't leave me," he whispers. "You promised."

Isaac holds him tightly, shushing him and runs his fingers through Stiles's hair. "I won't. Ever."