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They didn't. None of them remembered.

None.

Not even a single one.

Not even that guy who's dog he used to walk for years.

Not even his Pack. Not even after about an hour of explaining.

He had tried to get them to remember. To at least believe him when he said, he had been their friend. But neither Malia, nor Scott looked like they believed him. They listened to him and then said they were sorry, but: "You probably have the wrong guys, dude."

He told them. Everything. About the Pack, the Supernatural (no, not the show), about all the things nobody but they knew. And yet... in the end, they accused him of being both crazy and a stalker. They even threatened to call cops on him.

That was when he took his things and walked away.

It was horrible. To think that after all he had told them, they would accuse him of being a stalker. A stalker. God.

But maybe a think that stung the most, was that he saw some flicker of recognition in both of their eyes. They knew the Wild Hunt was taking people. They knew his story could be 100% plausible. And yet... it seemed as if they didn't even want him.

It hurt. It wasn't just him feeling like shit after they ignored him a bit. The revelation, that maybe they realized who he was and acted this way, because they didn't want him with them, made him want to go back to the Riders into their weird, abandoned train station.

And he wasn't kidding. It was that bad.

He had nothing. No one. No home, no friends, no family. No possessions, but his old Roscoe. He had found it sitting in the school parking lot. Weird, how no one wondered about it being there. It had to stay there for days without moving and no one cared.

Interesting.

So here he was. Sitting in his Jeep and riding to God-knows-where.

"You know, maybe they really don't remember you."

Stiles' grip on the steering wheel tightened. "They would try to help me, if they had no idea who I was. No matter who I was, they wouldn't jeopardize their chances on beating the Hunt."

"But they didn't take you in."

"Yes. They didn't. Because they do remember me. And they don't want me back."

A silence for a moment and then... "I told you so."

"Oh really?" he turned to glare at the demon, "You're gonna bring that up now? Really? Go fuck yourself."

Nogitsune lifted his eyebrows. Stiles ignored him.

Because in the end... Nogitsune was right. It hurt to admit, but he had been right all along.

Scott, Malia, Lydia... they had never been his friends. It wasn't friendship. Maybe somewhere at the start. But they had soon replaced him with other people. They didn't like him.

It was a horrible realization... but in the end, he was just following them around. And because it seemed that they just couldn't tell him they didn't like him, they let him near them and still continued acting, as if he was their friend.

And he had really thought they liked him. He had really believed they were his friends.

They were assholes, all bunch of them. Nogitsune was right, when he said he should just leave them and find some better friends. He should have believed him.

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