Let Me Heal You

Chapter One

Stiles~

It's been a long time. I know it's truly only been 17 years but still, it feels like 100. 100 pathetic years, filled with grief, hurt, blame, pity, sadness... Anything vulgar and disappointing. It's the same routine, day after day. I get up, force myself to get ready to go to a place I like to call hell. Others like to call it, high school. I barely make it through the day with at least one comment from my peers above me, complaining that I'm not good enough, or that I'm worthless. Sometimes, on rare occasions they torment me by recreating the scene of my mothers death. Which they find is good joke material. A lot of times i get insulted about my homosexuality. yeah, I'm gay, you have a problem with that? A lot of people do.. Why don't I tell anyone? No one wants to hear. No one wants to hear me whine, me groan, me complain, no one wants to listen to my pathetic problems. I myself don't want the same awkward answer from the ones who try to help: "it will be okay." Exactly how can you read the future? Please, explain to me why you think it will be okay. My mother is dead, my father is on the brink of loosing everything, I am harassed on a daily basis, and my only friend is a werewolf. Oh there's another part of my life that makes the dullest parts, more interesting. Scott, my only friend since, what? 3rd grade, is a werewolf. I always ask myself, am I in a dream and I can't wake up? Because there is no possible way any of this could be true.

"Hey!" A happy voice broke my train of thought.

I turned to see who was greeting me, uninterested.

"What's up?" Scott, the werewolf himself.

"Just, getting stuff for class." I sighed.

"I see.. Um can you do me a favor?" He asked, his voice cheery.

That always confused me. How was he always this full of glee? Isn't there something that makes him saddened? Obviously not, he's on top of the world.

"What is it?" I finally asked.

I've been delaying my answer to everything lately. With each question comes a long thought, full of other question I ask myself. Like, if someone asks me to hang out. Why do you want to hang out with someone like me? A worthless, pathetic, lame, loser like me. The list goes on, and on about my flaws.

"--and bring it to me tomorrow." Scott finished.

Shit, I was too busy thinking that I didn't hear a word he said. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Im such an idiot!

"I'm sorry, say it again?" I asked, hiding the anger for myself.

"It's fine. I was asking if you could go to Derek's after school today and grab some stuff I left there, and bring it to me tomorrow. I would do it myself but I have to go to Allison's."

Really, Scott?

"Why can't you you get it yourself another day?" I said ignorantly.

"Please, Stiles. You live closer to him than I do." His voice had less cheer, and more hesitance.

"Why would you even leave something over there?"

"I was training with him and Isaac, and I left some of my stuff there. Like clothes, my duffle, and some other stuff. Look, I know you don't like Derek, and I'm sorry. But can you please get the stuff for me? Please?"

Some might think differently of the situation, but I felt like something was off. It seems odd to me that Scott would send me to get his things, when if they aren't that important, he could just get them himself.

"Fine." I finally agreed.

"Thanks so much, I owe you one." He smiled, the cheerfulness back in his voice.

"No problem." I said quietly.

~

The engine of my beloved jeep died down slowly. I scanned the dark area, looking for any sign of Derek. He liked to scare anyone who set foot on his property. Which is understandable, but the way he scares you is just creepy. He's either behind you, or pops up in front of you.

I got out of my jeep quickly, and looked around.

If he sneaks up on me I swear to god... I thought.

I felt eyes on me, which made me walk to the Hale House a slight jog. From a distance, the house looked like a home that needed renovating. But now that I'm at the front door, I can see all the problems. The wood holding everything up was literally crumbling into dust by the minute. How could someone be living in a place like this? How has he not been crushed by the base boards, how has he not suffocated from the dust? Why do I ask so many questions?

"Stiles."

I gasped, turning to the direction of my name in fear. There, stood Derek. With a smug look on his face.

"Damn it, Derek." I whispered.

He smirked, making me to melt.

"I have Scott's things inside." He said, leading me into the crumbling house.

Ash and soot painted the walls, and coated the floor. I left shoe prints in the black mess. I stood in the middle of what seemed to be the living room, observing the tragedy before me. All the furniture was black ad falling apart, the ceiling was caving in. What stuck me the most was a picture frame in the corner. I walked over to it, and picked it up. It was covered in black soot, and ash. I carefully whipped some away, reviling a family portrait I believe. I whipped more soot away, and saw in fact a family portrait. There was Derek, a younger woman, probably his sister Cora. There was two older women, who looked like his older sister and possibly his mother. Then there was an older man, who I'm pretty sure was his father. Peter was there too, but let's just not think about him..

"What are you doing." Derek said, startling me.

I dropped the picture, causing it to shatter in pieces across the black floor.

"I-I'm sorry, I was just looking around and found this.." I said, picking up the broken portrait.

"I'm sorry..." I said, handing it to him.

He hesitantly took it out of my hands, replacing it with Scott's duffle bag.

"All his things are in the duffle.." He said, staring at the picture.

"Okay, thanks. Sorry again.." I apologized.

"It's... It's fine, just go."

Reminding someone of their family who all died in a house fire, except for their crazy uncle who tried to kill everyone, isn't the greatest thing to do... I obviously pissed him off.

I walked into the other room, and leaned against the wall. I made another mistake. Why am I so stupid? Why am I such an idiot!

"It's all my fault..." A teary voice spoke.

My eyes widened. Derek was crying.

"If I hadn't have trusted her, all of you would be alive and Peter wouldn't be a psycho path." He sobbed.

Derek Hale, the scary werewolf that could rip you limb for limb, was crying. All because of me... I reminded him of his family, and the fire. What is wrong with me!

"At least she's dead now... She's gone. She can't hurt anyone like she hurt you."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Of course, an experience like that has to stay in your mind 24/7 but Derek wasn't the person to show his feelings.

"I'm sorry..."

At that point I couldn't really control myself. So, I walked back into the room where Derek was weeping. He looked up in shock.

"What are you doing?! I told you to leave!" He yelled, his eyes still full of tears.

"Derek, I'm sorry." I pleaded.

"Stiles, leave!" He pointed to the door, anger overcoming the sadness he was just feeling.

I took a step forward.

"I feel awful, Derek." I said calmly.

For a few seconds we awkwardly starred at each other. He didn't answer me, he just looked at me. With that glare he gives you when he's completely pissed.

"Derek...?" I whispered.

Suddenly, tears filled his eyes again.

Then he hugged me, and he wouldn't let go.