Stand Still // [tw/spn/sh/twl]

Chapter 40

BEACON HILLS, CALIFORNIA, TUESDAY, 11:42 P.M

Stiles stared at the loft in front of him, anxiety making his heart beat thrice as fact. He didn't realize how excruciating this situation would be.

It's not that he didn't want to see Derek. He was simply scared, scared of what happened in Vatican and truly terrified of what the werewolf's reaction would be to seeing him after half a year.

The spark can admit that he did leave in a shitty way, sleeping together and then running off, leaving nothing but a note, but he saw no other solution that didn't end in someone getting hurt or dying.

He was anxious to see how Derek would react. Would he yell at Stiles for his decision? Would he embrace him and simply be thankful to see the spark again? Stiles didn't know, but there was only one way to find out.

Stiles entered the first, outer door of the loft before walking up the small flight of stairs that led to the main, sliding door of the building.

His fingers clenched around the handle of the duffel bag that held his belongings as he raised his free hand to knock on the door.

He hesitated at first, wondering if Derek could sense him or if he was too preoccupied to do so, but, after a few seconds of contemplating, he managed to deliver three harsh knocks that were sure to alert the werewolf of his presence.

Stiles could immediately hear footsteps from within the loft. They were slow and hesitant, rightfully so. It was practically midnight, and he was knocking on someone's door.

The spark could not only feel but hear his heart pounding in his chest as the footsteps neared the door. After a few seconds of compete silence, it slid open, scratching against the ground as its hinges creaked.

Chocolate brown eyes met seaweed green, and Stiles felt as if an entire boulder had been lifted off of him. He felt a wave of relief crash over him. Just the sight of the werewolf was enough to ease his worries.

"Hey, Sourwolf."

Stiles couldn't help it. He had to crack a joke, provide some comedic relief to a clearly tense and awkward situation.

Derek stared at the spark in front of him with wide eyes and parted lips. His right hand dropped from the door as his left hung at his side, his fingers twitching and clenching. Stiles couldn't tell if the werewolf wanted to hug him or strangle him.

"Derek, who's there?"

Stiles tensed at the sound of an unfamiliar, feminine voice and peered over Derek's shoulder to find a dark skinned woman laying in his bed. Judging by her bare shoulders, she was probably naked beneath the covers.

The spark took a hesitant step back as Derek glanced at the woman before averting his attention back to the latter.

Derek moved on.

Stiles shouldn't have expected anything less. They only slept together once, and the spark left the next morning. It's been six months. Of course Derek moved on. Stiles can't be mad at him for that.

"Sorry," Stiles apologized. "I shouldn't have come."

He didn't stay any longer. He couldn't.

He turned around to make his escape, slightly hoping for some protest from Derek, but the werewolf didn't make a move to stop him.

The spark moved as fast as he could without tripping or seeming too desperate. He left the building with his bag tossed over his shoulder, and a heavy frown on his face.

Where was he supposed to go now? He didn't know where the Winchesters were, and the Cullen's had too much of a connection to the Volturi to be safe. He didn't know where in New York the Shadowhuntes' esidence was, and, for all he knew, Deaton might be gone too.

'Dad,' Stiles thought shortly as he walked down the sidewalk with no particular destination.

He hasn't seen his father in so long, but does he really want to bring the man into such a scenario? It could put him in danger. He might end up as a target. The spark left in the first place to protect people. He can't mess that up.

What harm would it do to check in though? He wouldn't stay, only see how his dad was doing. They'd have a small little reunion, and Stiles would be in his way. Yeah, that would work. Maybe he could snag his jeep too, if his dad kept it. He wouldn't blame the man if he scrapped it for parts or sold it to get some extra money.

However, when Stiles reached his home, it didn't seem like his home. His jeep was nowhere to be seen, and there were two unfamiliar cars in the parking lot. The exterior seemed to be a different color even in the darkness.

'Is there someone staying here?' he thought as he walked up the porch. He knocked on the door a few times before stepping back and waiting.

Stiles could hear voices from inside as footsteps approached the door from the other side. He took another small step back as it was pulled open to reveal a woman, an unfamiliar face.

"Can I help you?" she asked politely.

Stiles eyed her suspiciously, saying, "is Noah Stilinski here?"

"He moved out a couple months ago," the woman replied. "Apparently, his son went missing, and he needed to get away..." she trailed off, eyeing the duffel bag he held. "Oh, honey, are you?..."

"Do you know where he went?" Stiles asked, swallowing the burning feeling in his throat.

"Somewhere out of town," she answered. There was clear sympathy and pity on her face, but Stiles chose to ignore it.

"Okay," the spark began, exhaling deeply. "Thanks. Sorry for bothering you."

"Do you need somewhere to stay?" the woman asked. "There's only three of us. We have room—"

"No, it's fine," he interrupted. "I'm fine. Have a good night."

Stiles turned around and hurried down the porch before she could say another word. He followed the sidewalk to nowhere specific as he processed what he had just been told.

His dad left. He made his dad leave.

What was he supposed to do now? He didn't have phone to call anyone. He trashed it when he first left, and phone booths were rare nowadays. He didn't have any money to use a phone booth anyway. There was nowhere safe anymore, and he still didn't know why eight hundred people disappeared without a trace.

'Stiles.'

The spark froze upon hearing his name suddenly spoken. He looked around, but there was no one to be seen. Had he imagined it?

'Stiles.'

The voice echoed. It was if it was speaking from the back of his head. It sounded familiar, but he couldn't pin point who it was just yet.

'Stiles.'

'Paul?' he thought shortly. 'Why the hell am I hearing his voice?'

'Stiles? Can you hear me?' Paul's voice echoed in his head.

'Yes, but I'm starting to wonder if that's a good  thing or a bad thing,' Stiles thought.

'Oh my god. It worked. You can hear me!' Paul exclaimed.

'What worked? Why am I hearing your voice?' Stiles mentally wondered.

'Mates with a strong enough bond can sometimes speak to each other through a mind link,' Paul explained. 'I've been trying to reach you for a few days.'

'Why?' Stiles questioned.

'Us and the Cullen's are the only ones left in Forks," the shapeshifter stated. 'Everyone else has disappeared.'

[EDITED]