Chapter 10

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Stiles wasn't sure how many times he had punched the wall, but his fists had been broken and rebroken countless times throughout the night.

As would be expected, Stiles hadn't gone to study night with Lydia. He was situated in a small stone cabin deep in the woods on the outskirts of Beacon Hills. He had no idea how he had found it in the first place but he had. Stiles had stumbled upon it when he first came to Beacon Hills a few years ago and hadn't had the need to return to it until now.

In the back of his mind he applauded the cabin for staying together for so long. It had been taking hits from an original for a while now and the only signs of damage was the dust that burst from the wall on impact.

Stiles sat down leaning against one of the walls and was thankful that it didn't collapse on him. There was hardly anything to the cabin. It was a small square space, in one of the corners was what Stiles assumed to be a fire, but he wouldn't be cooking anything on it anytime soon. On another wall was a build in shelf. Sat on that shelf was Stiles' personal touch to the cabin, a small frame that displayed a photocopied drawing. It was a drawing of himself and his former companion, Clara, the original had been created by Klaus but had long since been either lost or destroyed. Luckily though Stiles had thought to make a few copies of it and hadn't stopped since, the photocopier guys always look at him funny when he comes in to make 50 copies of the thing.

His thoughts went to Clara and then they drifted to Lydia and of course of to the rest of his friends in the town. What will they think of me now? Surely they would all know of what Scott had discovered by now, the night had passed and it was now the next morning. Lydia wont be asking to study with me anymore, I suppose.

Stiles had no doubt that everyone would by now know the truth about him. It wouldn't be like Scott to keep it from them. Unless Klaus got to him. The thought sent shivers down his spine but he reasoned with himself that letting Scott tell the others would further ruin Stiles life here and that seemed to be Klaus' main objective.

Stiles was itching to know what they thought of him now. Would they still accept him? Be amazed by him? Hate him? Fear him? He had a sickly feeling that it would be the last one. Not many people took the news that , oh your friend is actually an immortal freak pretending to be a teenager, that well. But then again who would?

In times like this he wished his telepathy skills were greater. He was able to often read peoples minds with contact but never from a distance. He had once known a witch who was very skilled at locating and reading people from far away. Stiles had envied her a bit and kind of wished she was around now to help him but Klaus had killed her in the early seventieth century.

Thinking of Klaus, Stiles hoped he had buggered off back to whatever hole he had come from this time.

Just thinking about his brother got him furious. How dare he just come and ruin everything! Stiles thought. He was livid in a matter of seconds. It was safe to say the human blood was still effecting him but being almost in the middle of no where and away from people had done him a world of good.

He once again almost felt in control of himself.

Clara's calming methods she had taught him were helping a lot. He had called her a pioneer of her time in the physiological aspect but she had always laughed the complement off. If he thought hard enough he could hear her voice, as soft as a summer breeze, coaching him through her teachings, but now her voice always seemed to get lost to the wind of Lydia's voice. In a way she was starting to replace Clara. It made Stiles sad to think that way but it was true. When he pictured someone to hold onto like an emotional tether, it was no longer Clara but Lydia.

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