#did he actually have a snake? like I could see Claudia getting Stiles a snake for a birthday or just a random day

[handsofred]

Can we just talk about this part of Teen Wolf between Stiles and Scott.

If I have to, I’ll chain you up myself on full moon nights and feed you live mice. I had a boa once, I can do it. 

I honestly never see anything being mentioned about Stiles once owning a Boa before...like I feel like more needs to be said about this and more fics included having Stiles around snakes, taking care of them etc...

[ellewritesathing]

So Close - S.S. XLVII

Summary: The universe has a funny way of putting the things you want right in front of you, but just out of reach. Stiles and Y/N have been best friends ever since Scott brought him home, but when Stiles realizes that he might want to be something other than best friends, she leaves to go to some fancy private school up North. Now that she’s back though … maybe he’s got a shot? A Teen Wolf AU in which the reader has always been so close to Stiles and yet so far.

Masterlist   Prev. | Part 47

Word-count: 6.3k+

A/N: apologies for disappearing friends!! i’ve finally finished writing all the parts for 6a so i should queue them up for regular content again soon (also i’m pretty sure i’ve used this gif before but don’t mention it)

Sleeping had always been tricky for you, but after everything you’d seen and all the sacrifices you’d made protecting Beacon Hills, sleep was either short and dreamless or long and full of nightmares. 

That night, you dreamt of Stiles. 

He was always at the edge of the picture, just out of your view, but you knew it was him. His laugh, his voice, his silhouette. The way the light caught on his hazy figure and sometimes you could just make him out before he disappeared completely. 

He always disappeared, but he always made you promise to find him, and you always did. Stiles was starting to fade into the distance again when the alarm tone rang out. It tore you away from him, but not before his hand caught yours and he said, “I can feel you forgetting me.”

The alarm tore him away from you before you could promise to remember Stiles one last time. 

When you were sure you couldn't dream of Stiles again, you pulled yourself out of bed and forced yourself to get ready for school. You were already on your second cup of blood-spiked coffee when Mason, Corey, and Liam showed up. You crapped them out for trashing your house but it was largely just to get a laugh and not because you were angry with them. This was the first morning that you weren’t angry, just empty. 

Scott broke up your fun before you could get anything really good out of them, and then he asked what Liam wanted to show you guys. 

Liam took you to the living room and pointed up at the ceiling where a dark stain rested. There was a dark spot in the center and black tendrils snaking outwards. Definitely not a water stain; it looked almost like tree roots.

“That’s how he got in?” Scott asked. 

“Yeah, but what is it?” Liam asked. He looked away from the ceiling to gauge Scott's reaction. 

“It’s a Lichtenberg figure,” you said, still staring at the long tendrils that seemed to reach out for something. An image flashed through your mind: these same tendrils snaking up a neck, unusually dark against the pale, sickly skin. Tearing yourself away from the Lichtenberg figure, you folded your arms around yourself. “They, uh- they’re common in lightning strike victims.” 

“You knew someone who was struck by lightning?” Liam asked. You felt his eyes on you and curled in on yourself even more.

“No, I-” You shook your head and sighed. “I think so, but I'm not sure ... I don't know.” 

“Stiles,” Scott said when you couldn't. You nodded at him and he gave you an encouraging smile in return. 

“You can also usually find charred spots like this on the ground after a violent thunderstorm,” Mason said, blissfully unaware of how crappy you felt and continuing the lightning-related thought process.

“So that’s how the Ghost Rider got in,” Scott said. He looked away from you and back to the Lichtenberg figure on the ceiling. “He rode the lightning.”

Liam caught your attention in your peripheral vision. “If they can use the lightning to get past the mountain ash … no place is safe.”

“What about the others?” Corey asked. He sounded panicked. “It’s my fault they’re marked.” 

“We’ll find a way to protect them,” Mason said quickly. He looked over at Scott and Scott looked over at you. 

“And we’ll find a way to get the others back,” Scott promised. 

One of your phones went off and scared the rest of you out of your stupor. You promised to reconvene later on, and split up to head to school. No matter often it happened, it was still jarring to discuss the supernatural special of the week over breakfast and then have to sit through econ and pre-calc.

Still, your friends found you between classes and it was back to piecing together a way to defeat the big bad. Today, it was relics. Specifically, a student ID card belonging to a sophomore named Jake Sullivan.

“Wait, what’s a relic?” Malia asked. 

“An object with a fixed associated to the past,” Lydia said. As she spoke, you twisted your signet ring on your finger. It was a nervous habit that you'd picked up whenever you couldn’t turn the Feliscore Arcade coin over itself. “Jake’s ID was left behind after he was taken, and Gwen found her sister’s bracelet on her bedroom floor.”

“How can someone be erased and still leave something behind?” Malia asked.

“A conservation of mass,” Lydia explained. She was incredibly patient with her explanations considering how near-constant they were. “The total mass of any isolated system remains constant.” 

“So, even the Ghost Riders have a weakness?” Scott asked.

“And a relic would be proof that Stiles existed,” Malia said.

“And that we can bring him home,” you said, sounding more hopeful than you'd meant. 

“Exactly,” Lydia said. “And I think I can find one, but Noah and Claudia-” 

“I can take care of Noah,” you said. “Give me the ID and I’ll go talk to him, but I think you should go looking while I do.”

The bell rang and you had to split up, but you and Lydia texted until you settled on a plan. It was a shaky plan, but you needed to talk to Noah and Lydia needed to do her Banshee magic to find something that belonged to Stiles.

So, hesitantly, you borrowed the car from Scott after school and drove yourself to the station. Once you were there, your hand hovered over the key. Once you went in there, everything would change again. 

You yanked the key out of the ignition and headed to Noah’s office. 

Your explanation of relics was shaky - Lydia could have done it much better - but Noah followed along for most of it. There was only one thing that he was caught on. 

“You want to search my house?” Noah asked.

“Yes,” you said. “I know it’s crazy, but if there’s any chance that Stiles left anything behind …” 

“Why would it be there? At my house?” Noah asked. 

You took a deep breath and looked down at your hands. The light caught on your ring. “Because I heard what Elias said after we left, and my house has really thin walls,” you said quietly. Noah looked confused, so you went on, “I heard what you told Scott about-” 

Noah pushed the case file in front of him away and leaned forward in his seat. “About my dream?” 

“About your memory.” You looked up at him with pleading eyes. “Please. The worst that can happen is that Lydia doesn’t find anything.” 

Noah sighed and rubbed his face. “She’s already at my house, isn’t she?” 

“Got there five minutes before I walked in,” you said. 

“Dammit, Y/N!” Noah shook his head. “This is just typical. You and Stiles are always-” He stopped dead when he realized what he’d said. He sighed and put his head in his hands.

You pulled one of his chairs closer to the desk and put your hands out for him to hold if he wanted to. “I do it, too, sometimes,” you said softly. “I tell jokes that people don’t understand because they weren’t the ones I shared them with. Whenever I buy food, I buy a pack of Reese’s even though I don’t eat them. Seriously, you- you should see the stash I’ve got. They’re pouring out of my loose floorboard.”

Noah laughed. He pulled his hands away from his face and gave you a sad smile. “You know, last night I couldn’t sleep so I got up. Figured I’d do some paperwork. The files were in the back of my car so I- I went to the garage, and some junk had fallen off a shelf and I stubbed my toe on an old baseball bat. Without thinking, I yelled a name …” he took a deep breath. “Stiles.”

You smiled at him, trying to shove down the tears that threatened to spill. “The other day, Malia wanted me to promise her something, and I said ‘no matter what’ without thinking about it. She didn’t know what it meant but I  knew that it was because it was something he and I used to say to one another.” 

“Stiles,” Noah said. 

“Stiles,” you repeated. “I’ve never actually said his name until now. It felt too, I don’t know-” 

“Real,” Noah said for you. You nodded and he sighed again. “And that’s why you’re so determined to find something.”  

You tapped the desk a few times as you answered, “Determined to find Stiles. This is just the first step.” 

“Okay,” Noah said. He slid the ID back over to you. “Okay, Lydia can search the house.” Then he laughed. “Even though she’s already doing it.”

“Thank you.” You took the ID back and put it into your wallet. Somehow feeling more uncertain than when you came in but still comforted, you said, “I’ll get out of your hair now.” 

“Wait, do you- do you maybe want to grab a cup of coffee?” Noah asked. He looked awkward. “I mean, if you have the time.” 

“I’d love that,” you said. 

It was an awkwardly lovely coffee date. Noah knew the ending to some of your jokes, and you made his coffee the way he liked. Although you didn’t explicitly talk about Stiles, you talked about your grades and the diet he had to go on to help manage his cholesterol, how Mel was doing at work and life at the station. It felt like you’d been doing this for years. Just catching up.

But then your phone buzzed and you had to go help Scott track down Gwen. Even after apologizing a dozen times and Noah assured you that he understood, you still felt guilty as you left him there with two empty coffee cups. 

You rushed to the school, listening to Mason’s hasty explanation of how Gwen snuck out of the bunker and Okafur, Steinbach, and Wallace were never in the bunker to begin with. He needed to figure out a way to stop the Ghost Riders and your job was to try and keep him safe until he did.

It wasn’t that hard, considering that nothing was happening aside from the team getting absolutely destroyed on the field. 

“Yes, yes, yes!” Mason cheered as one of the players got knocked down to the ground. Everyone around you got mad at him but you tugged on his sleeve to get to sit with you again. 

“Hey, what did you realize, boy wonder?” you asked in a low voice. 

“The night of the party, Parrish showed up. The Ghost Rider seemed … scared of him, I guess,” Mason said. “And then I remembered the mural.” 

“The Hellhound fighting the Beast,” you said slowly. “You think it’s related?” 

“It has to be,” Mason said. He sounded more confident than before. “The Hellhound’s a harbinger of death and these guys … I mean, it has to be connected.” 

As if on cue, thunder started rolling in the distance. Ignoring the pit in your stomach, you said, “Find Hayden and tell her to call her sister. I’ll make sure nothing happens here.” 

Mason dashed off and, after a few minutes of alone time, the wind started picking up. Then the light rain. When the lightning cracked overhead, your eyes darted across the field. 

Scott was staring at the sky. He pulled off his helmet as the light rain turned into a downpour. You raced onto the field as players started taking cover. Corey yelled that the Ghost Riders were there, but you couldn’t see them. 

The ref was trying to get everyone off the field as you huddled the players together. 

“Okay! We’ve got all three, right?” Scott asked. 

“Scott, there were four,” you said. Both of you turned to count but you still only came up with three players: Gwen, Okafur, and Steinbach. You saw Scott grab Corey’s hand and did the same. You couldn’t kick the Ghost Riders’ asses until you could see them. 

Your grip tightened as you watched one of the Riders drag Wallace off the field as he screamed for his life. Then he just disappeared into a small cloud of green smoke. 

“Oh my god!” Okafur yelled. “They’re real! We’ve gotta get out of here!”

“Stay together. We’ll protect you,” Liam promised. He wasn't as confident as Mason had been.

“How?” Gwen asked. 

You followed her eyes to the quickly approaching group of Riders. There were just three of them but you knew you wouldn’t stand a chance against them. Scott told you all to run but the second you did, three more Riders showed up to block your path.

“Stay close!” Liam yelled, pulling the players behind him.

It didn’t help. They shot Okafur and he disappeared, just like Wallace. 

Corey moved out of your grip but you could still see them. So could Scott. As one of the Riders readied their gun, you weren’t entirely sure whether seeing them was a good thing or not. 

Liam tackled him before he could shoot but it was just an inconvenience for the Rider. He kicked Liam off of him. Scott jumped forward to protect him, but as soon as he moved another Rider shot Steinbach. He was gone. 

“We can’t stop ‘em! Protect Gwen!” Scott bore his fangs at the Riders. 

You did the same but you were so focused on the Riders that you didn’t notice Gwen slipped past Corey. The Riders shot her and she disappeared. In a few seconds, the Riders were gone, too.

The four of you stood in the field until the rain stopped, none of you managing to say anything. 

“Hey,” you said to break the silence. The rain was clearing up. “Let’s go find Mason and Hayden. He might have an idea on how to end this.” 

They nodded and you rushed back to the school. Mason and Hayden were fine. Parrish didn’t fight the Ghost Rider but it left them alone before disappearing just like the rest of them. 

“Everyone from the bunker has been taken,” Scott said as he got off the phone with Malia.

“Everyone? How?” Mason asked.

“It doesn’t matter how,” Scott said. “Malia’s at the hospital and Argent’s been hurt. My mom’s with them.” 

“I’ll go check on them,” you said. Looking over to Liam and the others, you added, “You guys get cleaned up, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Scott said with a nod. 

You found Lydia at the hospital before you found Malia or your mom. She told you about Claudia’s frontotemporal dementia and how it should have killed her by now and you caught her up about the Ghost Riders taking everyone from the party. 

The two of you found Scott and Malia before either of you got to talk about Stiles. 

“Tell us you found something,” Scott said.

“I found out Claudia never had children,” Lydia said, dropping her eyes for a second. “So, Stiles can’t be her son.”

“What about a relic?” Malia asked. 

Lydia shook her head and you looked down at your hands. You twisted the ring on your finger, so sure it was connected but not sure enough that it could be a relic. Tied to him, maybe, like Noah was. But not something that belonged to Stiles.

“There never was a Stiles, was there?” Malia asked, as gently as she could. 

It was quiet. Scott broke it by saying, “It doesn’t even sound like a real name.” 

“We have to keep looking,” Lydia insisted. Her voice was urgent - the kind of urgency she only got when something was driving her supernatural Geiger counter crazy. “Check the school records again. Or call your dad-” 

Malia shook her head. “No, we’re fighting the wrong battle.”

“No, we’re trying to find Stiles,” you said defensively.

“The Ghost Riders came back and we still have no way of stopping them. Whatever they are, they’re real,” Malia said. She was one of the best friends you’d ever had, but she was also cold and fixated on survival. You understood, mostly, but right now it was annoying. “We can’t keep chasing someone who isn’t.” 

“Maybe he’s not real to you, but the rest of us actually give a damn,” you snapped. There was a time when you would have felt bad for snapping at them, but this wasn’t the time to feel bad. This was the time to find Stiles.

“Y/N, he didn’t leave anything behind,” Scott said gently. 

“Just us,” Lydia said, seeming hollow as she looked up again. 

You shook your head and started walking away from them. “This is unbelievable,” you mumbled. 

Malia grabbed your arm before you could get very far. “Where are you going?” she asked. 

You spun back around and pulled your arm away from her. When you were this upset, her touch burned. “To call Isaac and Cora since you guys don’t care anymore,” you said.

“No one said we didn’t care, we just-” Scott stopped, unsure what to say. “We just can’t keep losing people.” 

“I’m not losing anybody else,” you said. “I’m finding him, Scott.” 

“Then let’s do it together,” Lydia said, grabbing hold of your hand. Her touch was cold, but it still burned. She gave you a smile and looked back at the others. “Please?” 

Malia was reluctant. In the wild, coyotes didn’t have time to track down imaginary best friends. Still, she looked over at Scott before she told you that you were out of your mind. 

Taking a deep breath, Scott looked over at you. “Okay,” he said. “We’ll keep looking.”

---

It turned out that while your definition of ‘keep looking’ meant that you’d skip school the next day and get together as a group to discuss everything, Scott’s definition was to go to school and act like nothing happened. In an effort to be slightly less confrontational, you’d gone along with his plan, but it didn’t make you happy. 

As hard as it was to believe by your scowl at Scott’s goofy smile when he dropped into the seat across from you at lunch, there was a time not too long ago when you would have at least tried to hide your bad mood from him. 

“Get an A on that psych paper?” you asked, stabbing your food with a fork. 

“No. Well, A-minus but that’s not the point,” Scott said as he shook his head. He took a breath and leaned forward. In a fake whisper, he explained, “Lydia found something. Malia’s already checking-” 

You pushed your tray away and grabbed your bag. “Then why are we sitting here? Let’s go.” 

Scott laughed and led you out of the cafeteria and to the parking lot. At first, he didn’t want to explain where he was taking you because he wanted to see your face, but - after some threats to tell Melissa about how the car got that scratch on the bumper - he finally told you about Lydia bribing the tow truck driver. He stopped talking when you reached a powder blue Jeep. 

Your heart ached as you tried to remember something, anything, about the Jeep or the person who owned it. You tried to remember Stiles.

When no memory presented itself, you said, “Well. This Jeep isn’t going to search itself,” and pushed past Scott to get to the Jeep. 

It wasn’t filthy, just a little dust-covered inside and pollen-coated on the outside. To add to the abandoned feel, the radio was stuck on the wrong frequency and only played static. Ignore how wrong it felt for the Jeep to be like this, you opened the glove compartment and found a red rag, some take-out receipts, and a map of Eichen House. The radio cut out and you froze. 

“Why’d it stop?” Malia asked. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Lydia said. Despite her rough tone, she flipped the Master Switch on and off four times before saying softly, “But there has to be a reason.” 

Because he was incapable of sitting in silence for more than three seconds, Scott started sniffing. Loudly. 

Turning in your seat, you asked, “Did you catch a scent or a cold?” 

“A scent,” Scott said and shook his head in an attempt to focus. “Ours. Mine, yours, all four of us.”

“Mine? I’ve never been in this Jeep before,” Malia said, sliding forward in her seat in the back. 

Scott shrugged. “Neither have I.”

“Yes, we have,” Lydia said. “We just don’t remember it.”

Malia tilted her head to the side. “I thought we were done with that.” 

“You literally promised me last night that we wouldn’t give up,” you said, doing your best not to glare at her. 

“No, Scott promised you. I didn’t promise anything,” Malia said. 

“Mal, could you for once in your life try to understand when something is important to someone?” you asked. You didn’t mean for the words to come out as harshly as they did, but they were out there and you couldn’t take them back now. You took a deep breath and looked away.  “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. Can we please just keep looking?” 

“I don’t know if there’s anything to look for,” Scott said. “Parrish checked the VIN number and there’s no record of an owner.” 

“The Jeep didn’t just drive itself here,” Lydia argued. 

Scott looked over to Malia with his ‘they’ve got a point’ face. It reminded you of an argument with Isaac back when he thought the twins were the ones killing people instead of the Darach. You couldn’t remember who the other person in the argument was, so you guessed that meant it had to involve Stiles. 

“Oh, whose side are you on?” Malia asked exasperatedly.

Scott looked at you, then he looked at Lydia, and then Malia, and then back at you again. “I’m on everyone’s side,” he said eventually. 

Malia and Lydia started arguing over whether or not Stiles was real again, so you continued your search of the glovebox to help tune them out. Your hands froze over the Jeep’s registration papers. 

“Guys, I think I found something,” you said, not caring what you might have interrupted. You unfolded the paper and leaned closer so Scott could read over your shoulder. “It’s from 1996.” 

“But there’s no name,” Scott said.

“Yeah, but look at the address,” you said. “It’s Noah’s.”

---

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Claudia said after reading over the Jeep’s registration papers. “I haven’t seen that Jeep in … almost eighteen years.” She looked over at Noah for confirmation and he nodded slightly. 

“But it’s in your name,” you said. “You never went looking for it?”

“It was stolen.” Claudia shrugged. She was either a very good liar or she really didn’t know anything. 

“Then how did it end up at the high school?” Lydia asked. 

Noah shook his head and opened his hands. “Beats the hell out of me,” he said with his trademarked sigh. “I mean, that thing was a junker back in the day. God only knows who’d want it now.” 

Something about how flippantly Noah talked about the Jeep tugged at your heartstrings. “Someone with a sense of whimsy?” you asked with only a touch of your usual venom. 

“I- I guess,” Claudia said with another small shrug. “I don’t know, girls. Maybe somebody dumped it there?”

Stiles would never abandon the Jeep, you almost screamed. You let out a low growl that reminded you uncomfortably of Malia and took a breath to recover. 

Lydia set an uncertain hand over yours to calm you down. She turned back to the Stilinskis and asked, “Is there any way to trace the history of the Jeep after it was stolen?”

“No,” Noah said, frowning at the idea of how that would even be possible. 

“Can’t you check for fingerprints at the station?” you asked. 

Claudia looked over at Noah and shifted slightly closer to the edge of her seat. Noah met her eye and sighed again. “Is this about Stiles?” he asked. 

“Can you please just check the Jeep for prints?” you asked, doing your best to keep your voice even and detached. 

“Don’t you girls think you’ve taken this far enough?” Claudia asked. She reached out for Noah’s hand as she asked, but it seemed less like a move of solidarity and more like a reminder that she was there. She handed the registration details back to Lydia with her other hand. “I don’t really know what’s going on with you lately,” she said to Lydia, “but maybe it’s a good time to talk to your mom.” 

Instead of telling Claudia that she was way out of line, Lydia just pulled her hand away from you, dropped her gaze, and nodded. “I’m sorry. You’re right,” she said quietly. She looked up again and flashed Noah a bright, dishonest smile. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Noah asked.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. Can you just …” Lydia shook her head. You knotted your hands together to keep from reaching out to comfort her. “Um, do you mind-” she pointed to the hall where the bathroom was. 

“Of course. Take your time.” Claudia nodded. She didn’t even make it through her sentence before Lydia was on her feet and heading down the hall. Shaking her head, Claudia turned back to you. “You’re a good friend for being there for her, but be careful not to encourage Lydia too much,” she said. “You know how unstable she can be.” 

You swallowed hard to keep from snapping at her. All you could bring yourself to say was: “Lydia’s a genius.”

“There’s a fine line between genius and insanity,” Claudia told you with a heavy look. 

You’d been squeezing your hands together tightly to keep yourself grounded, but Claudia’s words made you squeeze so tightly that you could smell blood. “I’m going to go check on Lydia,” you said as you rose to your feet. 

Noah called out to you but you told him it was fine and kept walking. You could hear him and Claudia whispering after you left; he thought she was too harsh on you guys, she thought you needed someone to stop enabling you, you stopped listening when you found Lydia slumped in the hallway crying. 

You knelt in front of her and fumbled for her hands with one hand and cupped her face with the other. “Hey. Hey, Lyd, you’re okay,” you said gently. “We’re gonna find him, okay?” 

“How?” she asked, voice tight through the tears. Her eyes darted down the hall. “How are we gonna find him?” 

You faltered. A beat passed and you knew whatever you said next would sound fake. “I don’t know,” you said. “I don’t know, but we’re going to find him. I promise we’ll find him, alright? No matter what.” 

Lydia went still for a second. “No matter what,” she whispered. It sounded like a question when she said it. “Why are you saying that to me?” 

“I don’t understand,” you said, pulling back slightly in surprise. You suspected the saying had something to do with Stiles, but you had no proof and it wasn't like Lydia could tell you anything for certain. “Why does it matter?” 

“Because it does,” Lydia said. She looked down the hall again and squeezed your bloody hand. “We need to go. Now.”

Lydia didn’t wait to answer any of your questions. She pulled herself up and basically dragged you out of the Stilinski’s house, apologizing for the intrusion and thanking them again for their time as if they’d actually done something helpful. 

Once Lydia had safely buckled you into the passenger seat, she started the engine and pulled out of the driveway at such a speed that you were sure Noah would call you about the tire tracks. She explained, briefly, that she was having one of her feelings and you needed to get back to the school. To the Jeep. 

You didn’t argue. You never argued with Lydia’s feelings, especially not when they had anything to do with Stiles. She seemed to be the only person who still wanted to find him, and you trusted that together you and she would find him. 

It’s not that you expected to find Stiles sitting in the Jeep when you got to the school - even if a tiny piece of you hoped you would - but you weren’t expecting to find a tow truck driver trying to shake down Scott for more money.

“-Now I’m picking it up again,” the tow truck driver said as you and Lydia ran up to them. 

“How much do you want? I’ll write you a check,” Lydia said. 

“It’s not about how much. They want it out of here, okay? So it’s not up to me,” the driver said. He moved closer to the Jeep to attach it to his truck but Scott stepped in his way. Scott had never seemed intimidating to you - a byproduct of seeing him laugh so hard that milk sprayed out of his nose when he was five - but he looked intimidating at that moment. “Don’t make me move you, kid, okay? I’m hooking this thing up. And I am towing it away.”

Scott clenched his fist and you got ready to intervene, but Malia broke off a piece of the tow truck before anything escalated that far. 

Malia handed the broken connector to the tow truck driver. “Your truck’s broke,” she said. 

After some particularly nasty words, the tow truck driver stormed off and left your friends laughing in his absence. It was only a few seconds of laughter, but you felt a little lighter after a win - even if it was a small win. 

“So what now?” Scott asked. 

“I mean, he’s probably just going to come back in the morning,” you said. You looked at the Jeep over your shoulder and sighed. It looked so impossibly lonely in the dark parking lot. “Do you guys want to stay here for a while?”

“No,” Malia said, at the same time Lydia said: “Absolutely.” 

Scott got that awkward look on his face when he had to choose between his friends. “Five minutes?” he suggested. “Just to make sure no one else comes back.” 

“Fine,” Malia said begrudgingly. “But I’m not sitting in the back.” 

“Deal!” 

You and Scott sprawled into the backseat while Malia took the passenger seat and Lydia sat in the driver’s seat. Sitting behind the driver’s seat like this, you could almost picture Stiles sitting there. He always sat there, except when something was incredibly wrong or the time when he taught you to drive. 

The memory of learning to drive was still fuzzy and disjointed in your mind, but that’s how you knew it was him. Stiles was in so many of your memories that without him it felt like your whole life was fuzzy.

You were still trying to piece together the fuzzy memories when a roar tore through your ears. A strained, agonizing roar. Whoever that roar belonged to was dying. You bolted out of Scott’s arm and clambered over him and the seats to get out.

“Did you hear that?” Malia asked. She’d been too uncomfortable in the Jeep after a few minutes so she'd stood guard outside. 

“I think all of Beacon Hills heard that,” Lydia said. 

“Who is it?” Scott asked.

“I’m not sure, but I think I recognized it,” Malia said. 

Despite the very distinct and unexplained feeling that Stiles was human, Malia’s recognition sent electricity down your spine. “Let’s go find out,” you said, looking over at her for a second before taking off towards the preserve.

Finding whoever roared was clumsy. There was no scent and they hadn’t roared again since. You were still looking for the injured wolf when you tripped over the burnt body. Despite your badass shadow-wolf status, you screamed and scurried to your feet. 

They let out a roar in response to your accidental kick to their ribs and you dropped next to them to check that you hadn’t just killed them. From the second you focused on them, you knew that it wasn’t Stiles. 

“Hey, you’re okay,” you said gently. You reached out for his hand to take away their pain. Their hand wouldn’t open so you moved to their arm and started taking away their pain from there. 

It hurt so much that you didn’t even notice that Malia and Scott got there until Scott put his hand on your shoulder and the burnt werewolf grabbed Malia’s arm. You pulled your hand away so fast that you took bits of burnt skin with you. 

“Peter?” Malia asked.

He struggled to say something but nothing came out. 

“Who’s Peter?” Scott asked. 

“Peter Hale,” Malia said, not looking away from the burnt werewolf. He struggled again to say something. “My dad.”

“Your dad?” you repeated. Your voice ached from taking away his pain. “Peter Hale. That makes him Derek’s brother. I don’t- how could I forget Derek’s brother?”

A distorted voice broke through your internal crisis. “You were my beta first,” Peter forced out. His voice triggered something in Scott; a memory, you guessed. You didn’t remember anything. 

Scott stuttered out Peter’s name. “He bit me,” Scott said. “How could I forget him?”

“How could I forget him?” Malia asked.

Peter looked more pained with the knowledge that Malia had forgotten him than when you kicked him. He looked heartbroken. He craned his head to nod at his hand. 

“I tried to get his hand open but I didn’t want to break it,” you said quietly, moving around to try and see what Malia would find.

Scott took Peter’s pain away as Malia pried open Peter’s palm. Between the three of you, Malia got whatever it was and lifted it up. 

A set of keys. 

Stiles’ keys.

You snatched the keys from her and started running before either of them even had the chance to say anything. Nothing they could say could stop you from trying those keys in the Jeep, because you knew they were the key to more than just the Jeep. They were the key to bringing Stiles home. 

Malia tackled you to the ground in the school parking lot and Lydia almost lost a hand trying to break you two up. Once again, the four of you piled into the Jeep, but this time you got in the driver’s seat.

Now that you were sitting there, key still clutched in your hand, you almost couldn’t bring yourself to try it. What if it didn’t work? 

With an uncertain breath, you put the key in the ignition and turned it on. The engine sputtered. This wouldn’t bring Stiles home if you couldn’t get the damn engine to turn over. You kept turning the key and pressing down on the clutch.

“Don’t flood it,” Scott said next to you. 

“Please, this thing is held together with more duct tape than-” You stopped arguing when the engine turned on. You didn’t talk. You didn’t breathe. All you did was wait.

And wait. 

And wait. 

Stiles didn’t show. 

“What now?” Malia asked, poking her head between the seats. 

“I don’t know,” you said quietly. A few annoying tears clawed at your throat as you spoke. You kept your eyes fixed on the steering wheel to keep from crying. 

Scott started suggesting that you all go home when the radio stuttered to life. It filled the car with static. Scott reached to switch it off when a voice came on. 

“Hello?” 

Stiles.

You grabbed Scott’s hand and yanked it away. If he touched that radio then you were going to break his fingers. 

“Hello? Is anyone there?” 

His voice fought the static but you’d recognize that voice through a hurricane. 

“Can anyone hear me?” 

Hesitantly, you reached for the walkie connected to the radio. You didn’t want to break whatever magic held the signal together and lose him. Still, you pushed on the button and took a breath. “Stiles?” you asked. “Stiles, I can hear you.” 

Stiles said your name in a way that no one had ever said your name. He said it like it meant something. “Is that you?” he asked. “Scotty, you there?”

Scott held your hand over the walkie. “I’m here. Oh my god, Stiles- I can’t believe-”

“Oh my god, you know me?” Stiles asked. He sounded so relieved that your heart ached. “You remember me?” 

“I’m trying to,” you said. “I- I dream about you. I promise I’m gonna remember you, alright? No matter what.” 

It was quiet. Just the sound of your breathing. 

“Are you okay?” Scott asked as he pulled himself closer. “Where are you? We’re coming to get you.”

“No, no, no. You can’t, okay? You won’t be able to find me,” Stiles rushed out. He was panicking and you wanted more than anything to fix it. 

“No, Stiles, I need to find you,” you said. “Let me find you.” 

“What are you talking about?” Scott asked at the same time you were talking. “Just tell us where you are and we’ll … we’ll come and-”

“Just remember this: Canaan,” Stiles said. Canaan. You were going to get that tattooed on your forehead to make sure there was no way to forget it. “Okay? You have to find Canaan. Just find Canaan. Promise me.”

“I pro-” 

Static. 

“No.” You moved closer to the radio, desperately looking for a switch to flip to bring him back. “No, no, no. Stiles? Stiles, can you hear me? I need you to say something, okay? Anything.” 

Static. 

“Stiles, please say something,” you whispered. 

Scott said your name quietly. He untangled your hand from the walkie and set it down in its holder, putting his other hand to the side of your face. He said your name again, over your hysterics. “He’s gone,” he said gently. “We’ll get him back, but, for now, Stiles is gone.” 

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