Six Feet Under | Sterek

eleven;

His dad is in the kitchen on the McCall's house and Stiles has never felt so betrayed.

Of course, by the time that Stiles registers that he should be running, his dad's already seen him and is frozen in place as well, so really Stiles isn't going anywhere. They stay like that, locked in an endless, eternal battle of who's gonna go first and then Stiles is shaking so hard that he can't really see his dad properly anymore.

"You're gonna pretend like you didn't see me," he says lowly, and his dad's face is angry again.

"No Stiles, I'm going to talk to you, and you're going to talk to me, and we're going to sort our shit out. Do you know how worried I've been?"

Oh, oh, so it's going to be like that? Fine, Stiles can play like that. (His hands are trembling, but this time it's because he's so fucking angry). "Sorry. I forgot to check in with you about where I was after you pretty much disowned me. I didn't realise I was suddenly your fucking pet."

"You don't talk to me like that, Stiles. I'm trying here!"

"You think that I'm not trying?" There's something hysterical in Stiles's voice, something wild in his veins because he's so over this bullshit. "What the fuck was I supposed to do? You kicked me out!"

This time, it is not righteous fury that lines his dad's face. This time it is something dirty and nasty and it makes Stiles want to burn. "I told you to stop lying to me!" His father shouts. "I asked you to tell me why you didn't come home some nights, why you never let me see your laptop, why you were suddenly buddy buddy with the Hales-"

"So I'm not allowed to have a fucking life? I suddenly don't have a right to privacy?"

"You didn't have to vanish off the fucking map!"

Something in him snaps so harshly that he thinks he might be bleeding inside. There's a keening whistle in his head, and it blocks out everything but that burning anger that's pounding away. "You told me to get out!"

"I didn't tell you to disappear!"

"Where was I gonna go, huh? Did you think I would come here, where I'd have Melissa reporting back to you? Did you really think that I would be able to stomach the fact that you were watching over me like I was some...some criminal?"

His dad slams a hand down on the kitchen counter, and Stiles feels it like a fucking earthquake. This is the father he'd come to know after his mother's death. This is the father that had scared Stiles into living with Scott until Melissa had taken the alcohol away.

This is the Noah Stilinski that Stiles has been waiting for.

"I am not the villain in this story, Stiles! I did not force you to leave, I just asked for the truth! I begged you to have some decency and tell me what sort of things you did in the dark! For all I know, my son is a murderer!"

The keening in Stiles's head stops. His breathing stops. It all just stops.

His dad thinks he's a murderer.

Stiles stumbles back a step. He throws his hand out to grab onto the wall as he spins and spins, out of control. His dad thinks he's a murderer. His dad thinks he's a murderer.

He can't breathe.

He can't....he can't be here.

He has to go.

He turns around, races for the door. He flys bast Scott, ignoring his friends soft call. He races outside, careless of the fact that he has nothing with him, no phone, no car keys, no wallet, no nothing.

And Stiles runs.

And runs.

And runs.

And runs.

He runs until he can't run anymore, and his legs give up on him and he collapses somewhere random in the woods. His vision is twirling and blotchy, and he can't get enough air, and he can't feel his body.

And then he screams.

His throat shreds and tears, and the metallic taste of blood fills his mouth but Stiles keeps screaming because his dad thinks he's a murderer, and so why is he still even alive? He screams because he misses his mother, and he misses Derek and he misses his dad and he misses being normal.

Stiles screams because if he doesn't scream he'll kill himself, and maybe he won't regret it.

Arms crash around his shoulders, and for a moment, Stiles thinks that Scott has found him, and then he smells the leather and smoke, hears Derek's desperate voice, and knows.

Scott won't come for him.

"Stiles!" Derek pulll the teen boy to his chest and holds on as Stiles spasms and wriggled and shouts hoarsely until he has nothing left. "Stiles."

"Oh god," Stiles moans in despair. "What have I done? What have I done I'm a monster oh my god."

Derek holds him tightly as Stiles thrashes and cries and pleads for somebody to kill him, please kill him. (Derek had sent Peter to find Stiles once he'd gotten Scott's text, then he'd heard the screaming).

"Stiles," he whispers once the teen boy has gone slack in his arms and is staring up at him with unseeing eyes. "Stiles, please. Please." The werewolf doesn't know what he was pleading for, but Stiles doesn't give it to him anyway.

If Derek didn't know better, he'd say that his human charge is dead.

(He might as well be; something had broken in Stiles, something unfixable, and Derek is worried Stiles will never be okay again.)