Chapter 3

Even if there was a demon voice keeping Stiles up throughout the weekend, Derek's abrupt leave caused the same effect. Stiles was confused and irritated more than ever. Was it a tear or a possible dribble of drool that fell from Derek’s face?

It had to be a tear, it just had to be. 

“You wish he cried for you,” said Stiles' demon. 

Stiles had just gotten out of the shower, wiping the steam from the bathroom mirror. His head must have been playing tricks on him because it seemed his reflection was speaking directly to him.

But it was his demon that he once knew as his imaginary friend.

Now, it seemed to be his only enemy.

Stiles looked at his bare chest in the mirror, wishing he was more of a looker. Maybe if he had more muscle mass and hair, Derek would like him?

But all he had was a slim torso with a small path of hair leading to a happy spot covered by his white towel.

Stiles brushed his teeth, rinsed with spearmint mouthwash and went to his bedroom across the hall to get ready for school. 

Stiles had an array of loose plaid shirts hanging one by one on hangers and regular tees neatly piled up in one corner of the closet. He shed his towel, going full commando and picking out his attire for the day: a gray shirt with a catchy phrase saying, “Who am I?” and below was a blank line, with a brown plaid shirt he kept unbuttoned and a pair of ripped jeans. He looked at his reflection in the mirror and again his reflection spoke back to him.

It must have been the insomnia that was driving him crazy.

“Why even bother? It’s not like anyone will be impressed by you. You’re nothing but a prop to Scott. You’re just the stupid, goofy friend that doesn’t get the girl or guy in the movie. All you get is a place in their shadow.”

“Not true---,” Stiles said, trying to sound stern but failing miserably. His voice cracked under the pressure and Stiles couldn’t help but agree with the inner demon. 

Who am I, he thought. No one. Absolutely no one. 

Stiles packed up his books and unfinished homework from his desk, throwing them into his backpack and shutting the light switch behind him.

When he got to the kitchen, the coffee maker was half empty, there was a half eaten bagel smothered in cream cheese and a note on the kitchen table. 

Stiles, 

It seems like I haven’t spoken or seen you in awhile. I’m going to make it my duty to come home early tonight and whip us some steak and potatoes for dinner. If all else goes wrong, I’ll just call your cell for the heads up. By the way, I could hear you talking in your sleep(he was talking, but he wasn’t asleep. He had been up all night trying to get the little voice in his head to go away). Maybe I’ll stop by the pharmacy for some cough syrup that’ll knock you out cold. 

 Have a good day son,

Dad.

Stiles placed the note back on the table, grabbed a banana from the ice box, peeling it open as he walked for the jeep. The sun was almost out of hiding and the trees in the front yard rustled together.

Stiles clicked off the alarm when he noticed a pair of red eyes, disguised behind a bush a few yards away. A quivering fear ran up his spine but it all disappeared when he put a name to the pair of eyes.

It was Derek checking up on him. 

Before Stiles could wave, the eyes were gone. Maybe he was just seeing things, again?

Stiles adjusted the mirrors of the car before driving to school. When he arrived, he walked to his Chemistry class where he met up with an infatuated Scott. 

All Scott could talk about was his date with Allison and how she wore her hair, her perfume, the way her nose crinkled when she laughed. Stiles ignored every word and paid more attention to his unfinished homework. 

“Hey man, do you have the answers to last week’s assignment?” Stiles asked, glancing to Scott for the first time, who was busy eye-humping Allison in the front row. Scott hadn’t answered when Stiles said, “or just go on ogling your girlfriend,” he sighed. 

Stiles guessed most of the answers and turned in his sheets. The entire school day mapped out the same and Stiles was jumping into his jeep, about to head for home when Scott asked him for a ride.

“Where’s Allison?” Stiles asked, spitefully. 

“Her father picked her up earlier. Do you mind giving me a ride home?” Scott asked, already opening the door and jumping inside. He sniffed around and looked at Stiles, disgusted. 

“Why do you smell like Derek?” Scott’s eyes furrowed together. 

“He was over my house the other night,” Stiles answered cooly, not giving away any information.

Before Scott could notice, Stiles hid the claw imprint around his neck that had began to bruise into a hard pink, with small purple dots where Derek’s nails had punctured. Sure they hurt, but not as much as everyone expected them to by the way it looked. 

“Oh, but---.”

“He was looking for you,” Stiles lied easily. “He came by my place, saw that you weren’t there and probably headed to your house but you were Allison that night like you said. 

“Uh---yeah, you’re right. Cool.” 

Stiles took a huge breath of air and exhaled deeply. He grew to be a better liar than he had anticipated.

Stiles drove Scott home, listening to him bicker more about Allison and her cute quirks. They shared a firm handshake and Scott was out of sight before Stiles pulled back onto the road and towards home. 

The streetlights turned on and the blue sky was turning shades of gray. The clouds were transparent, through them a few stars peeked out to say hello. Paying attention to the road and looking up at the starry sky, Stiles was in no immediate danger until the sound of a blaring horn tore into the street. 

Stiles passed a stop sign and was hit by a Ford truck at the rear.

The car swirled around the street, his air bag inflating and his head suffering a major blow against it.

Stiles’ vision grew blurry, and he could feel a clean gash on the side of his left temple. He could feel his heart growing slower, and his head sink onto the air bag like a fluffy cushion. 

The sirens in the background were faint and so was the sound of someone trying to break the jeep door open. They accomplished it because suddenly a gust of wind filled the jeep. 

A pair of firm hands reached across of Stiles and unbuckled the seatbelt, tugging it off of him in one swift move. 

“You dead, man?” his demon asked, jokingly. “Tell me you're dead.”

Stiles shook his head but could feel nothing but a numbing sensation all over his body. This must be the part where one was close to dying because Stiles could see a light, but it wasn’t white. The light was red, and there were two, like he could choose either heaven or hell. 

Stiles could feel his head being placed against a hard surface, arms wrapped around his body, almost cradling him like an infant. He looked up from the tight gray shirt and peered into the pathways leading to heaven or hell. 

But all he could hear before blacking out was a pained and loud growl.