Devil of Wolves

Chapter Five (The Spark To Ignite The Fire)

Stiles woke to the sound of a police siren wailing.

He blinked around the room in a daze. He was on the ground with his cheek pressed against the cold flooring of his kitchen. Oh yeah, he passed out.

He sits up sluggishly, using the counter to pull himself up. Jesus, normally if he was feeling that shitty he'd at least try to make it to the bed. Stiles rubbed his eyes a few times and then it hit him. The reason why he passed out.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

He was awake. Stiles pulled in a shaky breath as he checked his pockets for his phone. He spotted it resting on the floor, and reached to pick it up to check if there were any messages.

[Inbox]: Empty

His father never called him back.

Stiles stood there dumbfounded. He wasn't sure how to react; he remembered leaving the voicemail in such a state, listening to his dad's own voicemail over the speaker. Yet, he still hadn't called back.

Maybe he was busy.

Stiles knew his father took his job very seriously, but he also thought his father took him seriously...Stiles tried not to dwell on the thought of what that meant; his own dad ignoring him. Maybe it was for the better - safer even if he stayed away. That was one of the reasons Stiles moved, right?

He surveyed his apartment the next minute, figuring it was best to forget the crying over the phone situation happened. He noted Herb, the succulent - still standing strong in the windowsill, no chairs were knocked down, no askew furniture. His apartment looked normal.

And he can still remember everything, no lost memory, no missing amounts of time. He was fine. Yep, totally fine. Not like he thought he turned Void and tried to choke Theo or anything.

Dammit. That definitely did happen.

Stiles rubbed his hands against his pants, trying to calm his nerves. Dammit, this cannot be happening. He fucking choked Theo in the middle of an empty room, at his work! Stiles wasn't sure if it really was him or...

Nope, nope. That was just a figment of his imagination, his stupid sleep deprived brain made that up to mess with him. But goddammit, that means he fucking choked Theo on his own freewill. With his own hand!

He's not void, he's not void, he's not void–

Stiles squeezed his fingers against his leg harder, nails digging into his skin painfully.

Then he noticed his attire as if for the first time. Peeling his eyes back open, noting the shiny shirt and blouse and the pants that were way too right, ultimately the doing of a feisty, persistent blonde woman he works with.

The party. Shit, he left right in the middle of the party!

Derek was so going to fire his ass now. That is if he even managed to actually keep the job. What if Derek gave it to Theo? Why would he even consider giving it to Stiles?

Stiles sighed heavily, the familiar feeling of growing panic rising in his chest uncomfortable. The weight settled over his bones. He dialed the Hale Corp number off google, tapping his foot furiously against the ground as he waited.

Oh god, he was probably fired. But he needed to hear the words, the words that honestly would probably make or break his fragile mental state right now. But, no, he needed to find out.

"Hello, this is Danny, Hale Corp official speaking–"

"Hi, Danny. It's Stiles."

"Oh, Stiles! Hello, how are you? You know you don't need to call me from the companies–"