Chasing The Sun Vol II: Citizen Soldier

Chapter 1: Markers, Birds, Coffee & a Wish

Blinking blearily as his alarm blared, Stiles groaned, "Fuck", he muttered so low, he probably never voiced it. It was a Saturday, the one day he was allowed to be lazy, why his alarm clock was even ringing was a question his Adderall mind would love answering. Picking up the device he glared at it, and removed the batteries. Pulling the blankets over his head, to block out the sunlight, he cursed violently in his head

Mornings sucked.

"Stiles? Kiddo, you have company", his dad poked his head into the room, chuckling as Stiles threw his switched off alarm clock at him.

"Tell 'em I'm no-a-hom", he grumbled.

John snorted, "Can't do that kiddo. They're wolves they can hear you", he laughed, "Come on up and at 'em kid", he repeated.

"Is s-uh-m-wn dying?" he asked seriously albeit slurring the words.

"No!" John assured quickly, "Good Lord Kiddo! No... No one is dying or in danger. But you do have visitors", he sighed after the urge to reassure him passed.

"Good. Tell 'em no-here", he then turned over and ignored his dad's deep weary
sigh.

"B-Bu--"

"Its Sat-r-da. Get Out!"

This time Stiles was aggravated.

Granted normally, he wouldn't talk to his dad this way, but, it was seven o'clock on a Saturdays morning.

For the last three years he'd subjected his biological clock, to a nocturnal setting. The creepy-crawlies of the Supernatural world came at night, the hunters came at night, and the demons came at night. That being said; his mornings were his own.

So unless the apocalypse came knocking, he wasn't moving from under his duvet and extra blankets. Sighing in what sounded a lot like defeat and disappointment. The Sheriff closed the door and walked off.

Stiles shrugged. He'd apologize later. That was how things worked. He was the fucktwat. The reason people, good people died or got hurt. His mother, his dad, Scott, Lydia, Erica, Boyd, Danny, Allison, or Derek. He was there suspect. Rolling over he closed his eyes and fell back to sleep . . . . . ..........This had to be a new record. He'd barely caught 5 extra minutes of what were no doubt 20 winks of sleep, rather than the traditional 40 winks, when an energy ball dropped on him.

"Stiles! Stiles, Stiles, Stiles, Stiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiles", the energy ball whined, prying the blanket off of him.

Nope. No, no, no, no...This creature was not getting his hands on his duvet. Bucking dramatically, he ignored the yelp, and threw the ball off of him.

"That was just rude!"

I agree.

Granted he was a tad shocked he threw a werewolf off of him. A True Alpha no less. But unless Scott was in mortal peril, the mortal all but being obsolete, then he could get out.

Scott growled, "I know you hate morning, but you gotta get up. The whole packs here, to celebrate Christmas Eve. Wake up, buddy!!" he whined.

"Go aw-y!!"

Hell knows what time he fell asleep.

He'd spent the last few weeks after the funeral in a bit of a daze. Another friend dead, another death on his hands, more blood spilled, another loss. Erica, Boyd, Allison. For all intents and purposes. Christmas could wait.

*###*###*

He'd spent the first pack meeting in silence. Not talking. Not saying a word. No retaliation to all of Isaac's cruel jibes, of Chris' pained filled glares on his back; of the pointed glances thrown discreetly from Kira to Scott. Or Derek's solid quiet voice coaxing him to eat, to sleep, to drink, consistently telling him to breathe. The next one consisted of him, being put on watch. Nightmare Duty; in more ways than one.
Isaac had taken the first watch.