Shifted

31 - Not an Olive Branch

Stiles jolted awake, heart thumping wildly, sweat dampening his forehead, and half shifted. Still half trapped in the vicious nightmare, the young werewolf jumped off the bed, his claws tearing through the army green comforter in his haste to do... something. Something important.

Golden eyes roamed the darkened hallway, the faint glow casting eerie shadows as Stiles navigated the familiar hallway.

The faint scent of pine lingered in the air, a remnant of his father's cologne that offered a fleeting sense of comfort amidst the chaos of his emotions. As he found himself outside his father's bedroom, the muffled sound of his father's light snores and the rhythmic beat of his heart provided a grounding presence in the midst of Stiles' turmoil. The longer he stood there and assured himself that his father was safe, the calmer Stiles got until the gold bled from his eyes and his claws retracted.

Overwhelmed, he retreated until he felt the wall pressed at his back. The cool touch of the wall against his back offered a stark contrast to the heat of his racing thoughts, grounding him in the physical world as he struggled to make sense of the nightmare that still clung to his mind.

The nightmare, a haze of fire, smoke, and blood, lingered like a bitter taste in his mouth, the remnants of terror clawing at his consciousness. It was awful and even now as the details escaped him, the terror remained. He didn't know what the dream meant. He's never had any fire-related fears or trauma, nothing that could cause such a reaction out of him. And even though his dad was the sheriff, he's never really had any death threats that would lead Stiles to believe he was in danger.

No. The only thing that changed, the only thing that could be a danger to his father... was him.

The thought broke his heart. The last thing he wanted was to hurt his dad but events of the past few weeks, especially the game just hours earlier, proved how dangerous he was. He needed to get this under control otherwise... otherwise he would leave. It would break his dad's heart but at least he would be safe from Stiles.

Bzzz Bzzz

A slight buzzing from his bedroom interrupted his spiral.

Initially, he ignored it, but as the buzz kept going, he figured whoever it was had to be important if they were this persistent. After checking on his dad one more time, Stiles walked back to his room to answer the still buzzing phone.

"Hell-"

"Finally. Get up and meet me at the school sign." A gruff voice spoke abruptly.

Stiles frowned. He checked the caller ID but it was an unknown number.

"What? Who is this?" He asked.

"Who do you think?"

Gruff, grumpy man with a deep voice calling at an inconvenient time. Well, there was only one person who it could be.

"Derek? Dude it's like half past one in the morning. Why are you calling me and how did you even get my number?"

"School sign. Fifteen minutes."

The dial tone came through his phone as Derek ended the call on his end.

Stiles frowned. If this was any other time, he would most likely ignore the old sour wolf and go back to sleep. But after that horrid nightmare and his still lingering fear that he was the danger to his dad, Stiles was more than happy to run through the cold California air just to clear his head.

OoOoO

The California air felt like sharp needles coming at him as he raced through the darkened streets of Beacon Hills. His second pair of cross country shoes complained as he put them through yet another vigorous run. With the moon high up at his back, Stiles allowed himself to think only of the hope that Derek's call stirred inside. Thoughts of the nightmare and the danger he posed to his own father were pushed to the side witch each step he took. The ferocity with which he stomped out those worries caused his muscles to ache but he didn't care.