Mikaelson

IV

MAXIMILIAN/STILES

I sit on a bench outside of the house think to myself. I would do anything to get out of New Orleans. I had finally been content with my life and now my family had to drag my friends into this mess. I sigh deeply, then hear the front door open. It closes and someone comes and sits next to me.
"Stiles," of course it's Derek. "You should have said something about...whatever you are. We would have-"
"Would have what? Hmm? Would you have accepted me? Please, you guys would probably have locked me up." I said, scooting further away from him.
"Stiles... I - we would never do something like that. You are the glue to this pack. I know we just now started getting along but I would not be alive if it weren't for you. You are one of the greatest people i've ever met and I wouldn't ever let them do anything like that to you ever. Not then, not now, not ever." He said while resting a hand on my shoulder.
I sighed before I started talking again.
"Derek, how was I supposed to tell Scott that I was a thousand year old witch, when he couldn't even accept that he was a werewolf? Now, he probably hates me, we have things going on in Beacon Hills that we need to take care of, and now I've gotten you guys dragged into my stupid family business, which let me tell you, usually ends with a lot of death and it's usually everyone important to me."
"You're one thousand years old?" He questions with wide eyes.
I nod and sigh, before looking at him in the eyes for a while. I look away finally, take another deep breath and get up to leave. It's also been a thousand years and I don't know why I rarely have to use spells or why I seem to be so much stronger than the average witch.
I pull on my hair in aggravation. I didn't want to be in New Orleans anymore but there has to be a reason that they brought me here. Even though I hate to admit it, they are still my family so I will help in any way I can. If only I knew more about the situation. They know that I don't ever want to see my mother and just being here in the same house has made me angrier. I just need to get out... even if it's only for a couple hours.
I start the walk down the steps toward the street when Derek calls out to me. "Stiles! Stiles wait!"
I give him a small, weak smile before disguising my scent and getting mixed in with the crowds of New Orleans.