Hello! I know I still owe the next chapter of 'Real or Not Real,' but I really need to sort my thoughts out with that one, so I thought I'd write this story in the meantime. This one is canon-accepted (even Allison, much to my dismay, but I'm gonna keep Isaac there since the last episode didn't really touch on him leaving) regarding post-Nogitsune problems. It'll probably be much easier to write without the canon episodes airing alongside!

Also, I want to say that there is a trigger-warning for this particular prologue, and probably the whole fic.

I hope you enjoy!

Prologue

Where Do I Go From Here?

If Scott was being completely honest, it was a terrible plan.

He knew it at the time it was suggested, too. He wonders if everyone in the room believed it as well, but was too afraid to voice their opinion after everything with the Nogitsune happened. Like they didn't want the responsibility if it failed. He understood that; they lost too much and too precious people to them to make that mistake again, but now he wished someone would've just said something.

Then he realizes – as he's being thrown across the room, no doubt – that they didn't mention their thoughts about the bad plans much before, either. Except for one person. One person always called everyone out on their bullshit. But that person isn't here and hasn't been for a while.

As Scott brings himself to his feet, watching the massacre of his pack as they're swarmed by hunters and Kate Argent (because apparently reviving humans only applied for the positively psychotic), Scott finds himself wishing there was a swish of plaid and a swing of a bat, even if he knew that it was dangerous. Because the fact of the matter is Stiles isn't here. And he hasn't been for a long time.

Scott knows it's for the best. After his meltdown, he isn't sure if Stiles remaining in Beacon Hills would've been good for anyone. But as Scott's plan is destroyed right before his eyes – watching Isaac filled with arrows and Derek slumped over in the corner of the room – he finds himself wishing his best friend was there. His old friend.

Before everything.

Five Months Earlier

He didn't show up to Allison's funeral.

The funny thing is, nobody really noticed at first. It wasn't until the Sheriff showed up after working a double shift at the station – Beacon Hills Police Department was becoming perpetually more difficult to find employees and some extra shifts were required – that anyone said anything. But when the Sheriff did arrive, after they laid the warrior's body into the ground and everyone's eyes were shining with tears, he leaned in closer to Melissa McCall and whispered in her ear, "Where's Stiles?"

It was obvious that Melissa felt a little guilty for not realizing his absence. She looked around, even though she knew that there was nothing she could do to magically make the teenager appear, but Stiles was nowhere to be found.

He didn't show up to the reception either.

It wasn't until eleven o'clock in the evening did Stiles eventually step through his doorway, his father furious and panicked – borderline ready to filing yet another missing persons report in regards to his son. After the usual yelling and relieved hug, Stiles only muttered one sentence before slumping up to his room, "I lost track of time."

(They both know he was lying, and yet they both ignore it.)

Then he says, "I'm gonna just go to sleep."

(They both know that he's lying about that too.)

Because, Stiles doesn't sleep. Well, not much anyway. He flinches every time Melissa suggests a sedative and everyone knows he won't take one. He's collapsing on himself like an old building, worn away with guilt and sadness. The problem is, everyone else is broken too. Like the blind leading the blind.

Or the broken shattering everywhere.

Allison's absence is felt, but the hearts of darkness eventually dim. It's a week before any of the pack return to school. It's a month before any semblance of normalcy comes about.

But it isn't until Scott asks Stiles to work out with him for lacrosse tryouts until he notices it. Like, really notices it.

Stiles looks like shit, point blank. Like he hasn't healed at all from the Nogistune. In fact, Scott would dare to say he looks even worse because it's all him – all human – and he can tell he is literally falling apart. Like at any moment, if someone startled him enough, he would crumble. Scott can smell the depression on him, the guilt, the sorrow, the pain. It occurs to him that he should've seen it sooner but he was just so damn depressed and sad that Allison no longer walked this planet.

Sure, he was the True Alpha, but wasn't he allowed a little selfishness to grieve?

Now he's not sure.

"I don't think I'm going to be trying out for the team this year," Stiles says distantly, staring at the lock on his locker like he used to – before any of them were aware of the Nogitsune. Scott panics a little, contemplating asking him if he can read it, but Stiles notices and sighs. He flicks the lock until it unclicks and another surge of guilt strikes Scott.

Scott chooses not to acknowledge this unspoken exchange. "Why not?"

Stiles doesn't answer. Like, literally doesn't answer. Which is weird for multiple reasons because A) It's Stiles and when does he not have a million responses to everything? And B) The conversation becomes awkward, which never happens between the two of them.

Stiles instead chooses to say something completely nonsequitor. "I'm gonna go home," he states, closing his locker. "I'm not feeling particularly well today."

He does look like he's about to pass out, but then again he looks like that all the time now. "Yeah," Scott mumbles. "I'm sure everyone will understand."

Scott's not sure how it happens, but Derek, Isaac, and himself drive to the Stilinski residence during lunch. Scott called the Sheriff after Stiles left, and very awkwardly (true to Sheriff Stilinski form) asked if Scott wouldn't mind checking on him. The worry and fear in his voice was prevalent. Scott wondered how long he'd missed that cue, drowning in his own grief.

Isaac offered to come – offered was a stretch, moreover he hopped into the vehicle while announcing 'Derek's coming too because he thinks we should talk to Stiles, maybe get him to see a counselor – and before Scott knew it, the three of them approached the Stilinski house.

Scott's ashamed to note that Derek's the one who noticed it first.

When they enter the house, the only thing Scott realizes is that it's oddly quiet. There isn't the sound of rustling or the light base of All Time Low in the distance. He even finds himself wondering if Stiles is even here. But as soon as Derek steps through the door, his eyes blaze blue and he stiffens. "Can you hear that?" He hisses.

Scott finds himself wishing that he understood more of this werewolf True Alpha thing. But then he does hear it.

A heartbeat.

It's dangerously slow. A human heartbeat shouldn't be that slow. Scott may struggle in Biology sometimes, but he has enough common sense to know that's abnormal. "Oh my God," he breathes and the three of them are bounding up the stairs.

When they reach the top, they can smell it. It's dizzying, the scent of depression, despair, and death. Scott swings open the bathroom door, certain the faint heartbeat is behind it, but he isn't prepared for what he sees.

Stiles is on the floor.

His entire body is slacken and still, and Scott is horribly reminded of the Nogistune. The memory is so powerful, it paralyzes him slightly, until he finally realizes what he's seeing.

Stiles. On the ground. His eyes closed. And empty pill bottle to his left.

"…ott… Sc… SCOTT!"

Derek's yelling at him, but it takes a while for Scott to realize it. He jerks into motion, grabbing his best friend in the whole world – the friend he had through bullying, break-ups, death of parents, abandonment of parents, when they were nothing – and brings him to the bathtub. Without thinking about it, without thinking about how his heartbeat was slowing and dammit he was dying and they literally just saved him, Scott shoves his fingers down his best friend's throat.

It takes a couple tries, but finally it works and the contents of the pill bottle and the scarce food remnants (speak of which, when was the last time he saw Stiles eat something? Scott finds himself wondering) are in the tub. Stiles chokes out a breath, but he's too out of it to take in the scene before him. Instead he leans his sweating forehead against the wall of the shower, his eyelids closing and Scott can tell he's fading. Isaac is talking to the police and Derek turns on the water above them in a sorry attempt to be helpful, but with how hot Stiles' skin is, Scott can't help but be thankful.

The two of them soak in the freezing tub and Stiles' eyes flicker open and look to Scott. Scott thought that he'd be relieved seeing his friend's gaze, but is stricken at the betrayal curling around his eyes and the strange sense of 'it didn't work.'

No one sees Stiles for a few days. Once word got around that the Sheriff's son tried to kill himself, everyone seemed to be walking on eggshells. Because why would Stiles – a fit of energy and motion, constantly smiling and adding useless facts to every conversation – so something so drastic? No one knows what to say to Scott because somehow it gets around that he found him. What do you say to that?

It isn't until they finally see him does everything really far apart.

Scott doesn't know when exactly he lost his best friend, but it sure as hell wasn't in that bathroom.

Everyone filters in the room because the doctors think it'd be good for him because he's not accepting food and is a few hours away from having an IV in his arm. They've diagnosed him with exhaustion, starvation, dehydration, and depression. That's a lot of scary words for one person and Scott can't bear to hear them.

But as the pack of them look at him, they recoil slightly. Scott doesn't know what he expected, but the cold, steeled stare was not it. Stiles gazes at all of them like they've insulted him. He doesn't take long to break the silence.

"Am I supposed to say thank you?" His voice is like gravel and poison, a whisper of the friend they once knew. "Am I supposed to be all excited about what you did?

"You should've killed me," he continues, his eyes filling with tears. "When everything was happening, you should've killed me. Before anyone had to die. Why didn't you just kill me?"

His scream echoes in the room and Scott feels Lydia flinch at his side. "Stiles—" Scott begins, but Stiles cuts him off.

"No, fuck you!" He shouts, his eyes reddening. "Fuck all of you! I hate you! I hate each and every one of you! Why won't you just let me die? Why do you insist on keeping me chained to this hell on earth? Because anything, and I mean anything would be better! I hate you! I hate you!"

The words hurt.

What was worse was everyone knew they were really saying, "I hate myself."

Present

Scott doesn't blame the Sheriff for sending Stiles away. It had to be done. He needed help and no one could give it to him. He was too fragile, too broken. But then again, so was everyone else. But the five months of radio silence with his best friend was almost too much to bear. He told himself that it was because of whatever program he checked into. The rules made him not reach out.

But he wondered if Stiles was being honest that day. That he truly hated him.

"I can't help but notice that there's one really annoying absence right now." Kate is saying, Scott still trying to get used to her new 'supernatural' appearance. Of all the Argents to come back to life – this pisses Scott off the most. "I see that you're no more an effective Alpha than Derek was."

Isaac and Derek manage to get to their feet and join Scott, but the resigned looks on their faces say that they know this might be the last stand.

"Don't look at me with those puppy eyes, Scott," Kate coos, taking a couple steps closer. "You know how much I've always melted for them."

That's when all hell breaks loose.

There's an explosion, a few shouts, and suddenly all the human hunters are passed out on the ground. Scott can feel his eyes burning and knows it must be some chemical that only annoys the supernatural, because he can see Lydia, Isaac, Kira, and Derek rubbing their eyes.

Once the smoke drifts away and Kate surveys the sudden switch in power, everyone hears a set of footsteps. Scott's eyes widen because he doesn't quite believe that he's seeing what's in front of him, but judging by Isaac and Derek's expressions, it must be real because they're gaping too.

It's Stiles.

Except it's almost not Stiles because he's so different. The muscles that have always hidden under his flannel are more pronounced and there's an air of maturity that he's never had before. It's strange how built he's become – Scott always thought his friend was a little scrawny, but he'd definitely have to reevaluate that description now. Tattoos are peeking from his t-shirt and his jaw is set in a sort of amusement that Scott doesn't quite understand.

But that's not the hardest thing to believe.

It's the fact that Stiles is standing behind Kate Argent with a gun to her head.

Kate slowly turns around, a smile curving on her lips. "Oh dear. How we've… grown."

Stiles smirks. "You should really contemplate wearing perfume to mask that, 'I used to be a corpse' smell."

Kate tilts her head in a condescending fashion. "Come on, sweetie. We both know you're not going to kill me."

Stiles' hand doesn't move.

"I heard about all your trouble with a certain fox spirit and how you lost your mind over a few measly dead bodies." Kate's eyes fall and Scott can't see past his rage because her niece was one of those bodies and he wants nothing more than to rip her apart. But there seems to be a glint of sorrow in her eyes. It's still not enough for Scott. "You can't kill me."

Stiles' falters. He drops the gun a little, his eyes falling to the ground. "You're right," he says softly. "I can't kill you."

"That's okay sweetie. I always knew you were a little softer than most," Kate says. "Good job knocking everyone out, though."

Stiles clicks the safety off his gun and Kate looks slightly stricken at the hardness around his eyes. "You're right, I'm not gonna kill you. I don't think I could do it – even someone as psychotic as you. But," Stiles' jaw hardens. "I never said I wasn't going to shoot you."

He lowers the gun and fires. Kate screams as blood trickles from her leg and she collapses, attempting to rip the bullet out. Stiles uses the distraction to run over to the group of them – all gaping at him because A) Holy shit, it's Stiles B) He looks like he belongs on a fireman calendar C) He just took down Kate Argent and D) Holy shit, it's Stiles. Stiles nods to Kira, "Can you help Scott out and Lydia can you get Isaac? Derek, you look like you can barely walk, so I'm probably gonna have to carry you."

Nobody moves. "What?" Stiles rolls his eyes. "Yes, I'm Stiles. Nice to see you again. Now run for your life!"

A/N: So what do you think? (Yes, that was a Dr. Who reference at the end… haha!) This'll be more of a healing story. Stiles… Stiles has massive PTSD and Beacon Hills is gonna trigger a lot of things. I just don't think that being possessed is something than can be glossed over, so I wanted to do a healing story.

What do you think? Please leave a note if you have the time!