Not Quite The Same (Hiatus)

Chapter Thirty Seven

(A/N: Happy New Year, guys!! I love you guys soooooo freaking much and you guys have truly made my year an amazing one despite all the tragedy that took place. I wish you guys a wonderful year and let's see what this year brings us *hugs you guys and throws out candy and glitter* Also, this chapter is short and crappy but I at least wanted to give you guys something.)

Stiles and the others stared at Visage's body, some in horror, some in shock, and one in triumph.

Stiles never felt good about killing anyone but Visage... he deserved it.

Stiles put his gun away and, sensing that the pack was tense, slowly walked back and away from the body.

He didn't know if the pack would turn on him. Although he had the feeling that this wasn't going to happen, you can't blame him for being wary.

"We should get out of here," Stiles spoke, startling the others. When he saw then stare at his face, he realized that he must have had blood on his face.

"Let the police handle this," he said, having done this multiple times before. He hated the way he knew exactly what to do.

"You... you just killed someone," Kira whispered, horrified.

Stiles let out a huffy laugh. "Ain't the first time, sweetheart." He titled his head up and raised an eyebrow. The others could clearly see that he was in his element.

"So," he continued. "If you plan on killing me, I suggest you get on with it cause new backup should be here soon and being caught at the scene of the crime is never usually a good thing. We let my dad and Parrish take care of the hostages and the press that is bound to come. We can head back to some safe house and get patched up there."

The others still seemed to be in shock as they all nodded mutely. Stiles had a feeling that this was their first time seeing something as big and drastic as this. "Come on," he muttered as he began to walk away.

The others followed him in silence. Derek seemed to be the only one who dared to get close to him. Stiles seemed to be deep in his thoughts, staring at the ground as though it held all of the world's secrets. Derek kept glancing at him, honestly concerned. "Something botherin' you, Derek?" Stiles asked, surprising the werewolf.

"No, no," He said, shaking his head. "I'm just wondering if something's bothering you."

Stiles scoffed out a laugh. "I'm fine," He told him and Derek instantly knew that he was lying. He didn't even have to listen to his heart beat.

"Sure, Brown Eyes." Derek shocked himself by letting the nickname slip out. He's never called Stiles that before, it normally just being a fond name Derek would call him behind the scenes.

Stiles seemed to sense that something was different too because he looked over at him, eyebrow raised. He let out a laugh, an actual laugh. Sure, it was small and short, but it was real. "I'm fine," He repeated. "Just thinking, Sourwolf."

Derek froze as Stiles continued to walk. Sourwolf.

Sourwolf, Sourwolf, Sourwolf.

The word echoed through his mind.

Sourwolf, Sourwolf, Sourwolf.