Chapter Text
“Stiles watch out!”
He hears Derek shout from behind him and instinctively leaps to his left.
He looks up to watch as the green orb the witch had thrown at him collides with a tree that quickly withers and dies.
“So not fucking cool,” he grumbles before rising to his feet.
He readjusts his grip on his bat and looks to the witch who is dodging the slashing claws of Derek and Scott.
Seeing his opportunity he rushes in an arc to stand behind her and brings his bat up high before swinging.
There is a sickening crack as it collides with her skull.
Instantly she falls limply to the ground.
Panting he looks toward Scott who is wearing a weak smile. Though he notes the glare from Derek
---
“Meeting, NOW!” Derek shouts as everyone files into the loft.
The group grumbles in exhaustion but comply anyway. They move to the sitting room in the center of the loft and each take their own seats.
Once everyone is sitting Derek turns to Stiles.
“You fucked up,”
The human freezes and raises a brow.
“What?”
“You weren’t watching your back, you were sloppy and you could have gotten us all killed!”
“I was rushing to check on Erica, your beta because she wasn't moving,” Stiles fires back.
“It doesn’t matter, because if you had been hit while checking on her then someone would have to check on you and the dominos would fall,”
“Last I checked Derek, I'm the one who hit her with my bat,”
“Because she was focused on me and Scott, because we are werewolves and actual threats to her,”
“Oh, so I'm not a threat because I'm human ?” Stiles scoffs
“Exactly, and it's not just that you’re...you;re..” the wolf tapers off.
“Derek don't,” Scott growls
“Don't what? What aren’t I Derek, go on say it..you’re already on a roll, so what aren’t I?”
“You’re not useful to the pack,”
It's as if he had been hit by a semi-truck hauling cinder blocks with no breaks.
He takes a step back and looks around.
The shock is obvious among the others, but judging from how Scott had tried to stop Derek from saying this...he isn’t sure if it's because they were surprised by him saying it in the first place...or choosing now to say it.
“I...I do research, I find out what the thing is and how to...to take care of it,” he says.
“But that's all your good for, that doesn’t even really make you pack,”
The pain from the first verbal blow doubles.
“What are you saying, Derek?”
He fights to keep the tears back but knows he is failing.
The wolf levels a serious expression with him, one void of emotion...as if he truly doesn’t care.
“You’re not pack Stiles,”
The human stares at him in shock and feels the tears rolling down his cheek.
“I…” he begins but his voice fails him.
Looking around he finds that the others avoid his gaze.
“Does everyone feel this way?”
One by one...the others nod...including Scott.
That's what hurts the most.
Stepping back he nods and licks his lips.
“I see,” he says.
“I'll...just..” he turns and rushes from the loft.
Running down the stairs, he bursts through the door out into the chilled air and bolts for his jeep.
Slamming the door he starts the engine.
He doesn’t let himself sob until he turns the corner.
---
As he steps through the door to his home he quickly passes his father who takes in the sight of his crying child with a shocked and worried expression.
Entering his room he throws himself onto his bed and lets himself break down into his pillow.
“Stiles?”
He jolts upward to find his father in his doorway.
“What happened kid?”
Immediately he feels himself break down at his father’s tone, a mix of concern, worry, and sadness.
“They...they kicked me out, dad,”
“The pack?”
Stiles nods with a sob.
“On whose order?”
“Derek...Derek said that I'm not useful to the pack and that I'm not really pack, all I'm good for is research.”
“And what did Scott and the others say?”
“They...they agreed with him.”
Noah feels his blood boil
“Ima kill him,”
He rises to his feet, only to have Stiles grab hold of his hand.
“No dad, let it go, I just…”
“What are going to do son? The pack was your second family, your friends,”
“I...I don't know I just...I don't know,”
Noah nods and pulls his son into an embrace.
“It gets better son, and they are fools for kicking you out, you were the greatest member of the pack,”
“Thanks, Dad,”
His father nods before rising to his feet and leaving him in peace.
---
Stiles looks down at the note and sighs.
Placing it on the table he silently moves across the room and out the door.
Lugging his bag into the passenger side of his jeep he closes climbing into the driver’s seat.
Starting the engine he pulls out of the driveway and drives down the road.
He knows that leaving while his dad is at work is the only choice he has, but it also makes him feel even worse about leaving.
A buzz on his phone catches his attention.
Pulling the device from his pocket he answers the call from his father and holds it to his ear.
“Hello?”
“ How you holding up kid?”
“I'm ok, Dad, I promise,”
“Alright, well I'll be getting out of work in a few hours,”
“Alright,” Stiles says, ignoring the pang of hurt in his chest.
“Hey, Dad?”
“ Yes, son?”
“I love you,”
“ I love you too son,” his father replies.
“I gotta let you go though,”
“Alright, be safe!” Stiles says.
“ Will do,” his father replies before ending the call.
Stiles sighs and tosses his phone into his duffle just as he gets to east I-40 heading.
---
Noah can't explain why, but he can feel that something isn’t right as he turns on to his street.
His fears are realized as he notices that Stiles’ jeep is gone.
Parking in his usual spot he rushes from his cruiser and into his home.
“STILES!?” he shouts as he bursts through the door?”
When there is no response he runs up the stairs and to his son’s room.
The room is empty of his son’s presence however it looks as if it has been staged.
The bed is made, nothing litters the floor, his desk chair pushes to the desk, and that's when he notices something missing.
Stiles’ laptop is gone from its usual spot on the center of his desk.
Moving forward he notices a note that lays flat on the center of the table.
Picking it up he reads.
“Dad,
I know that you are probably worried about me as you read this but I promise you I am fine, I just needed to get away from Beacon Hills for a while, had to get away from the pack, from everything wrong with that town.
I promise as soon as I find where I am going I will let you know where I am.
I love you, Dad, but you have to trust me and have faith in me, I promise you I will come home once I have a clear head.
Your son
-Stiles ”
Noah sets the note back down on the desk and rakes a hand down his face, wiping away the tears with it.
Suddenly his sadness is replaced by anger and he leaves the room.
Exiting the house he enters his cruiser and takes off down the road.
He comes to his destination a bit later and marches into the service elevator of the loft.
He doesn’t even knock, just slides the door open to reveal Derek Hale seated on the couch a book in hand. The wolf looks up in surprise at him but before he can say anything Noah pulls his sidearm and aims.
With each step he takes he pulls the trigger.
Bullets pierce the younger man’s body causing Derek to erupt into an eerie dance as the momentum pushes through his body.
Once his magazine is empty Noah holsters his weapon and places his boot on Derek’s throat as the wolf lays on his back, panting through the pain.
“You caused this...you broke him.”
“N-Noah,” Derek sputters.
“Shut up,” the sheriff growls as he lowers his boot slightly, increasing the pressure on the wolf’s airway.
“You made him leave, you made him skip town because you broke his heart.” Noah grits out.
He holds Derek’s gaze for a moment before lifting his leg and stomping down hard on Derek’s shoulder, the sound of the bone breaking echoes through the silent loft.
“You deserve worse,” the human growls before turning and walking out of the loft.
He stops at the door and turns back.
“You should be glad I decided not to visit Argent before coming here,” he growls before leaving.
Derek huffs as he sits up and rubs at his already healing throat before knocking his shoulder into place.
He lets out a roar from the immediate pain.
Standing to his feet he feels a rush of anger and growls as he flips the couch he had been seated on moments ago.
---
The Next Day
Stiles watches the sunset from his spot outside a french quarter cafe.
He isn’t quite sure what brought him here to New Orleans, but it was as if he had been lead by an instinct.
Taking a bite of his baguette he freezes when he senses someone behind him.
“Oh don't you worry cher, I was just admiring your aura,”
Stiles feels his heart beat faster at that.
“I don't know who you are, or what you want...but I don't want any trouble,” he says.
“Of course you don’t,” the voice says.
“And neither do I,”
Stiles watches as a young woman appears from his side and sits across from him.
“So what do you want?” he asks.
“To know why someone like you is out here alone,”
At least that's what Stiles thinks she said, her accent is heavy and thick that he second guesses whether he understood correctly.
“I'm trying to clear my head,” he answers.
“Ah...something is haunting you huh?” she questions before frowning. “Or someone,”
“How did you-”
“It's a gift,” she shrugs.
“But you would know all about gifts...wouldn't you Stiles?”
“Who..who are you?”
“Just someone who likes to help those in need, and right now you are screaming ‘need’,”
“That obvious huh?”
“Cher, your aura is fluctuating between depressed and concerned,”
“And yet you admired it,” he snorts.
“I was admiring the brightness of it despite those emotions.” she corrects with a laugh.
Silence passes between them for a moment before she speaks.
“I know I just met you, Stiles, but I can tell that you are running from something...but what you should be doing is preparing for when it catches up to you...cause in the end...it always does.”
Stiles looks to her.
“And how do I do that?”
“Evidently you don't know about it but have you ever been told about your spark?”
Stiles freezes as he thinks back to Deaton’s words.
“I was told once...that I had a spark...which is why I could use mountain ash...I circled an entire club with it.”
“Impressive,” the woman smiles.
“But that is just scratching the surface of your potential...with my help you will be able to tap into your full capabilities,”
“Are you saying I'm magic,”
She smiles and nods.
“That is exactly what I'm saying, your spark Stiles, is the brightest I have ever seen, so bright that it bleeds into your aura, and while that is also impressive, it can be dangerous..there are those that would want to exploit your gifts and abilities for their own dirty agendas.”
“How do I know you aren’t one of those people?”
“You don't, but you are just going to have to trust me,”
Stiles studies her for a moment and nods.
“Alright, I'll trust you...till you give me reason not to, and should you...I’m gone,”
“That's fair,” she smiles.
She rises to her feet and motions for him to follow.
“Come on,”
“Where exactly are we going?”
“To my secret layer deep in the cemetery,” she cackles.
Half an hour later Stiles finds himself sitting in the living room of an old rustic two-story home that looks like it had been built when New Orleans was first founded.
“I never caught your name,” he says simply.
The woman smiles.
“I'm Selene”
“Like the moon goddess,”
Selene nods.
“That's cool,” he says, earning a smile from her.
“So where do you want me to put my bag?”
Selene doesn’t answer, instead she raises her hand and snaps her fingers.
Stiles yelps as his bag vanishes.
“It's in the room upstairs immediately to your left,”
Stiles lets out a whistle.
“So I'm going to be able to do that?” he asks.
Selene chuckles.
“Stiles...once I'm finished teaching you...your gonna be able to do much, much more,”
Stiles feels his lips rise into a smile.
“When do we start?”