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Stiles let out a huge breath that he had been holding in. He was tired, tired of all the fighting and not knowing if he was going to survive. Tired of coming home and having to look at the disappointment in his father's eyes. Tired of trying to prove himself to a group of people who didn't want anything to do with him and having to look into the suspicion in their eyes.
Flashback
Stiles looked up from the wrench that Scott was holding "You think I had a choice Scott?" He watched as his supposed brother looked at him with fury in his eyes at the pack behind him looked at him with suspicion like he was still being possessed by some Psycho Fox Spirit, but Stiles knew that this time what had happened had been all him.
Scott inhaled deeply and said in his Alpha tone that he had taken to using on Stiles lately, "There's always a choice Stiles you just never choose the other one, You always have to resort to murder and I am tired of it, The pack and I are tired of it". Stiles took a step back and somewhere in his mind something whispered that he should have known this was coming.
"W-W-What are y-you trying to say?" Was all Stiles could get out as he felt crushing despair well up inside of him. Scott looked at him with red Alpha eyes "What I should have done after the Nogistune" Stiles took another step back as he felt the pack bonds in him tremble he watched as the rest of the pack behind Scott all flashed their eyes at him and he knew that whatever Scott did next he would never recover from.
"Your Kicked Out of the Pack."
It had been Six months after the confrontation with Scott and his pack and he felt so numb inside. Right after that when Scott turned away he felt the Pack Bonds Shatter and in that moment he had understood what Cora had meant when she described feeling them break after the fire. He had only survived by going through the motions.
His father had taken Scott's side and had moved in with Melissa, Scott, and Issac and boy had that been an argument. There was nothing like hearing your own father claiming that your best friend was the son you wished you had and that if your mother were alive she would agree too.
And Stiles wonders if thats when he finally broke if that was when he had decided that he didn't belong anymore and started wishing that maybe, maybe they were right and he should have died with the Nogistune at least then he would have seen his mother, would have been able to apologize to all the people that had died by his hand. Or maybe he would have been in hell finally able to suffer for all of the sins that he had committed. Stiles knows that he was suicidal has known what was wrong with him since his mother was diagnosed with an incurable disease and started trying to kill him at every given chance. Had know since his dad started drinking and throwing bottles of Whiskey at his head. Has known since he led his best friend into the woods looking for a dead body.
Sometimes he wonders what would have happened if he would have taken Peter's offer for the bite if he would have been able to have a place in a pack. If maybe then he wouldn't have been the outcast and the disappointment. As he sits on his bed studying the bottle of Advil and package of razors. The full moon shining from his window.
He got up and walked into his bathroom and set he pills and razor on his sink before turning the bath on and putting in the stopper. He then walked to his closet and pulled out some joggers and a old flannel that he rolled up to his elbows. He walked back into the bathroom and after checking the water he turned it off. Distantly he could feel the tears rolling down his face as he grabbed the pills and razor.
Stiles stepped into the bath hissing at the heat before sitting down. He opened the bottle of pills and knocked back half of the the bottle. As he felt the pills starting to work he took out one of the razors. He looked down at his left and searched for the Radial Arterey when he had located it he took a deep breath and with shaking hands he dug the razor in deep and dragged it upwards.
He watched the blood flow freely from the wound and felt dizziness wrack his body he transferred the razor to his left and and through the pain managed to do the same thing to right arm. He watched as the water in the tub turned pink and leaned back against the wall.
As he started to close his eyes he wondered when his tears had switched from pain to those of relief. As he slipped into blessed darkness he could here the phantom humming of the Polish Lullaby his mother sung him to sleep with, and could feel fingers long since forgotten trailing through his hair.
Stiles was going to see his mother again.
He Was Going Home.
Deep in the preserve in a clearing not easily found the moon shined down on the grass as creatures of Night and Day came out to mourn and pay their respects to a Spark lost.
And on a Tree long since chopped down a Rose as Dark as the night bloomed in the center of the tree stump.
A tribute to The Boy Who Ran With Wolves.