Chapter Text
Stiles woke to the smell of smoke in his nose and the echo of a gunshot ringing in his ears.
He jerked upright in the bed, heart pounding as he looked around the room, trying to remember where he was. He gasped for air, grateful that his half-strangled scream hadn’t brought anyone into his room.
That was the one nice thing about living with the Ryan’s. Each of their foster kids had their own rooms. It was the most privacy Stiles had had in years, ever since that horrific fire. He hated it most of the time, It felt too big, lonely and vulnerable, but on occasions such as this, it was nice.
The sun was just starting to peak over the horizon by the time Stiles had calmed down enough that his heart didn’t feel it was about to beat its way out of his chest. Normally he would try to go back to sleep. His tendency towards insomnia usually had him desperate for sleep whenever he could get it, even if it was just for a few more hours.
But today he was too excited. Today, he was going home.
Well, technically he was running away from his foster home. For the third time. Because his actually home was long gone and so were the people that once lived with him in it.
But he was going back to Beacon Hills. It was his hometown and so, was the closest thing to home he might ever have again.
Classes were only a half day today. The second half was an assembly, a pep rally, to kick off the start of lacrosse season for the middle schools in the area. Which meant he had half a day to slip out of school and get the hell out of Fresno before anyone missed him.
And he wasn’t going to Beacon Hills properly. He had tried that before and child protective services knew where to look. He couldn’t help it-Scott was his only friend, the only one who cared about Stiles, so he always went to Scott.
So this time, Stiles was trying something new. He had packed a bag of survival supplies. And he was going to hide in the local forest preserve until everyone stopped looking for him, then he would go to the McCall’s. Then he would somehow convince Scott and Melissa to let him stay there. Until he turned eighteen, or until Melissa could get her foster certification.
It was dangerous. If he got caught today, he could be sent to a group home if they could find a foster that had some space. If he was less lucky, he could get sent to juvie.
It didn’t matter to Stiles though, not really. The last two times he had been sloppy and stupid. This time he had planned it out, every last detail. He wasn’t going to get caught. It just wasn’t an option.
Because he couldn’t stay in this house one more day. Not with his foster dad. Not with the way he watched Stiles.
And he was getting worried that soon it might be more than watching.
He laid in bed for a bit, worrying over every detail of his plan. By the time he actually got up, he was actually running a little late.
Stiles grabbed his clothes and hurried down the hallway to his shared bathroom, grateful that neither of his foster brothers were in it, though he wasn’t surprised. They had been with the family longer and were smart enough to never dared to risk the rather of their foster mother Kathy by being late to the breakfast table.
He relieved himself then jumped in the shower, trying to rush but also knowing it might be the last decent shower he had for a while.
He had no more than finished washing his buzzed off hair when the door opened and Bryan, Stiles foster dad, appeared, already dressed in his police uniform.
“Stiles,” he scolded, with the door still open and letting out all the steam, “You’re running a little late today bud.”
Stiles froze for a long moment eyes wide open while soap ran into them. His heart pounded and he felt anxiety rise to his throat. He waited for Bryan to move closer, to open the shower curtain and watch him. It wouldn’t have been the first time he did something terrible like that.
Thankfully Bryan didn’t. Instead, he stayed at the door with his arms crossed menacingly.
“Yeah, sorry.” He said when it became clear Bryan was waiting on an answer. “I’ll make it up to Kathy.”
“I’m sure you will. And we’ll talk about it tonight. Keep your door unlocked and I’ll see you when I get off shift.”
Stiles turned off the water and got out of the shower the moment Bryan left the room. He was shaking as he dried off quickly, his hate of his foster father burning in his chest.
“You’ll never see me again you fucker,” He muttered, pulling on the clothes he had brought to change into. He had doubles of everything to wear, layers on layers, because he didn’t have room in this bookbag for clothing. It was stuffed too full of other supplies.
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The rest of the morning when off mostly according to plan. Kathy was a bitch for Stiles being late to breakfast, slapping him around a bit with her wooden spoon but that was normal. He didn’t get to eat anything and he had to clean up everyone else dishes. It sucked but it wasn’t a surprise. It happened like three times a week.
He still managed to get to school early enough to grab a prepackaged pastry from the free meal program in the cafeteria before heading to his classroom. His foster brothers didn’t use the meal program at school. They were too afraid of Kathy’s wrath if she found out they were eating when she didn’t allow. But Stiles didn’t care. He could take whatever she dished out and he was hungry all the time, so it was worth it. The school paid for it anyway, since he was a foster, so it wasn't like she would find out.
Honestly, she wasn’t even that bad. The worst Kathy ever did was withhold food and force them to do chores. Stiles last foster parent made him sleep outside in the garage all winter and that was just for talking back. Another used to lock him in the closet until he peed his pants-she thought it was funny. Really, Kathy was nothing.
Bryan was the problem.
Stiles got through his morning classes with his normal amount of grace. He only got yelled at by his teacher twice and she didn’t make him sit at the next in front next to her desk. It was pretty impressive, especially considering Stiles was nervous and jumpy as hell and he hadn’t been taking his Adderall. He wasn’t sure if he would have access to it, if his plan worked out, so he had been weaning himself off.
Lunch was the beginning of his carefully choreographed plan. He got his free lunch and scarfed it down, leaving just the littlest bit of mashed potatoes and green beans on the tray.
He waited to get up and scrap it clean until Joey, one of the nicest kids in his class, did. Then he let his natural clumsiness work for him, letting their feet tangle together and his own tray come up and smash food all over his sweatshirt.
“Oh my God, Stiles, I’m so sorry.” Joey took Stiles’ tray and set if on the table before trying to clean the stick mess of Stiles' chest.
Stiles let tears well up in his eyes and threw in a lip quiver for good measure. “Kathy is going to kill me. She just bought me this sweatshirt! Joey, she’s going to be so mad.”
That was a lie, of course. The sweatshirt was secondhand, like all his clothes. It was also an ugly bright green and very distinctive. Something that might get listed on his missing persons report and Stiles couldn’t have that.
Joey’s eyes went wide as he realized the mess wasn’t coming off. “It’s okay. Here.”
He took of his own gray hoodie and handed it to Stiles. “Wear this one. I’ll take yours home and wash it. Just tell her we switched in gym on accident. Then on Monday we’ll switch back.”
Perfect. That was why Stiles had picked Joey to target. He was kind enough to feel bad for Stiles and gullible enough to believe his lies.
“Seriously?” Stiles took the hoodie, trying not to seem too eager. “You saved my life Joey, for real. Next time you need help with a paper, tutoring, anything, you hit me up. ”
He left Joey with the nasty green shirt and all but ran out of the lunchroom. The interaction had taken a little longer than he planned and he needed to be in the bathroom with his backpack by time the bell rang.
He made it, hiding with his feet on top of the toilet seat so the aids couldn’t see him under the stall doors when they came around to check. His heart pounded as he waited for the assembly to start so he could sneak out.
Half an hour later, he slipped out the side door the janitor always left cracked open so he could smoke without anyone smelling it.
Stiles glanced back at the school, wondering halfheartedly if anyone there would miss him.
Doubtful.
He was a “problem child” for most of the teachers. His ADD combined with his status as a foster meant most of them wrote him off his first day there. His grades were poor and his behavior worse. Honestly, they would probably be grateful he was gone.
And he had never been very good at making friends. Probably the only ones who would miss him were the jocks he had been writing papers for. It was decent money and it kept him from getting beat up. Five bucks for homework any subject and ten for an essay. He guaranteed at least a B or money back.
It had been profitable. He had made about two hundred dollars and saved most of it back for his runaway. He had been smart enough to split it up on his person, just in case he got robbed. It was hidden between the soul of his shoe and the rubber, the lining of his backpack, and his pocket.
Stiles reflexively clutched the handful of small bills in his hoodie pocket as he walked quickly to one of the major bus stations, keeping his head down and trying not to look guilty.
The cashier took his money without a second glance or even asking to see ID, likely because kids used these busses all the time.
He was lucky. Fresno had a inter county bus system, not just a city-wide line. Stiles could ride all the way across Fresno county without having to show an official ID or even having to switch bus lines. He would have to switch actual busses a few times, but that was no big deal. Once he got close to Beacon County, he could hop off and just walk off into the woods, where he would stay, slowly make his ways to Beacon Hills on foot.
It was a long and complicated way of getting there, but that was the point. On the off chance DCFS tracked him to the bus and once of the drivers actually remembered him, the place he got off wouldn’t be anywhere near Beacon Hills. They would be looking in the wrong spot.
The wait for the bus he needed was the worst part. Stiles was terrified that someone would just know that he was doing and call the cops, or worse, Bryan somehow magically figured it out and would just show up to take him back home. He knew nothing was more suspicious than a kid sitting alone looking around worriedly, so he pulled out one of the books he had packed, turning it over in his hands.
When he had been a child, before the world had turned into a terrible, lonely place, his father had read to him every night he wasn’t on shift. And Stiles had loved it. His dad would do the voices and always made each story lively. He wished he could remember more of what they had read together.
So when it came down to what to bring, Stiles allowed himself two books. The first was practical, “An Amateur’s Field Guild to the Edible Flora and Fauna of California.” He had shamelessly stolen that one form the library.
The other was “Peter Pan.”, the copy from home he had managed to keep even as he was shuffled from house to house, foster to foster. Something about flying away to a land of fun, of having a group of friends that would stand and fight with him was comforting. It was appealing as a child but it comforted him even more now. He opened the paperback and did his best to read until the bus came.
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Derek prowled the woods, his feet silent on the mossy ground. He slinked between trees, keeping his nose to the breeze, looking for anything new.
It was quiet, but it always was-now. Now that his house was ashes, along with most his family.
There were so few of them left. Two sisters and his uncle, a few broken branches in the family tree. The spaces where his parents, his aunts, cousins and even little sisters should have stood hurt him too much to even look at his sisters bright eyes or at his uncle’s burned face.
He stayed far away all of them, always in the woods. He stayed in his wolf fur and let the animal out, protecting his territory however necessary. He kept it safe from everything human or supernatural- his self-imposed duty.
He tipped his head back and howled out his pain. Only the moon cried back.