"I'm done!" Stiles screams at the pack as he storms out of the sub station to his jeep. "Fucking done!" He was just told that he has to take care of research against a coven that's moved into town and once again no one asks Stiles. Between that and everything else in his life you could call it the proverbial last straw. He's snapping and he doesn't even care who witnesses it.
He should have known none of them would just let him leave that fast. Derek has him up against the wall in a flash and even Scott looks pissed. Stiles was having none of it. He was done being the token human, done being used for whatever they needed.
"Let me go Derek," he says.
"Are you going to research the coven for us?" demands Derek first. He at least movs his arm off Stiles' throat but keeps one hand around his wrist, preventing Stiles from going anywhere.
"No," he says again. "Do your own research."
"That's your job, Stiles," says Allison, looking at him like this should be obvious.
Stiles turns to glare at her and clearly he does have a look that can kill because Scott snarls at him and steps in front of Allison in a protective stance. "Did you ever ask me if I wanted that job? Did any of you ever ask if I wanted any of this?"
"Stiles, you're being ridiculous. Everyone knows you're the guy who lives for this stuff. You love spending hours focused on a project," inserts Lydia.
"And then I'm the one who gets kidnapped or tortured or beaten. I'm the one who has to lie to his dad because even if he knows about werewolves he doesn't know about half the other shit that happens or that his new bff Chris Argent has no problems killing me if I cross a line. I'm the one who has to figure out how to make it home on my own after the aforementioned torture because you're all busy rescuing the pack." Stiles stops before he starts spilling the things he'd rather keep secret.
"The pack is important, Stiles," says Derek and even he can tell that was the wrong thing to say.
All Stiles wants to do is collapse into the wall and cry because he knows he's not pack. He knows that he's not that important. The problem is that Stiles gets that feeling far too often and his current rage isn't about to let him be silent.
"And I'm not," he spits out bitterly. "Don't bother arguing. If you thought I mattered, you wouldn't have said it in the first place."
"You are important," says Scott. "It just makes sense to let you do the studying part. Even if we tried, you'd still be up until 4am doing it too."
Stiles gives up. Screw keeping secrets. He'll be kept out after this no matter what, might as well go out swinging.
"Do you know why I'm up until all hours pretty much every night, Scott?" he asks. "Because it's not this insane focus on research or some bullshit thirst for knowledge. I stay up all night because the minute I close my eyes everything presses in like it's going to crush me. If I don't find a project to focus on, to devote my energy, then my brain starts focusing on memories."
"So?" Jackson's assholery still knows no bounds.
"So tell me what my memories are, Jackson. You don't remember the time as the kanima do you? That's right, it's all a giant blank spot. I mean sure, you've been told what happened but it's not like there's anything to haunt your dreams." Stiles is choking on the words but he's determined to get this out. "Do you know what I see? I see Drew, the mechanic trying to scream as he's literally crushed to death and all I can think is I'm next because my finger won't tap the next button on the phone. I see Matt walking towards my dad with a gun and I can't move to save him and I want to believe Scott will but Matt's also threatening his mom and if it came to a choice, he'd choose her. And I can't blame him because let's face it, I'd choose my dad first but I. Can't. Fucking. Move."
Stiles wants to vomit at this point. "I see Gerard in the corners of every building, wondering if today is the day I die. I close my eyes and I can hear Lydia screaming as Peter rips her apart. And if I close them too long, I see him coming after me.
"You ask why I stay up at night? It's because the monsters that haunt Beacon Hills are nothing compared to what happens in my dreams."
Derek releases Stiles' arm and steps back a little. "You should have said something." His voice is softer than it usually is and something about that just makes it worse for Stiles.
"Should I? How many times have you woken up screaming, covered in sweat, telling yourself if you'd just gotten there faster, seen the signs sooner, that you could have saved Laura? Saved your family?" Stiles knows he's crossing a line because Derek's eyes are glowing red. It doesn't matter.
None of it matters.
"You all say you know me. Do you know I have panic attacks on an almost weekly basis? Oh I've learned to hide it and I just tell you I'm popping Adderall but I am literally holding myself together by a thread here."
Scott is staring at him in shock and Allison & Isaac are in tears and even Jackson is starting to look worried.
"You said you know who I am. I say you don't."
Lydia reaches out a hand towards him. "Maybe we don't know you as well as we should, but we still know you, Stiles. We know you love your dad and miss your mom and that you love playing lacrosse."
He thought he'd already snapped. Turns out there was still more to break. "I play lacrosse because every time I get hit it feels like I'm getting a taste of what I deserve for not finding a way to save my mom.
"I do miss my mom," he adds, his voice dangerously calm. "I miss her every day. I missed her more than anything last Tuesday. That was the day she died."
He doesn't miss the looks of surprise on everyone's faces. "Oh right, you were thinking I just skipped the pack meeting because typical Stiles, does things his own way. It's not like it's a big secret when she died. But none of you knew the date. None of you bothered to call and ask why I couldn't make it. Ask if anything was wrong."
He's crying and shaking and his head is pounding from the entire mess and yet he knows he's got a little bit left.
"Do you have any idea what it's like to want nothing more than to crawl into your dad's arms and let him take the pain away but know that you can't because no matter how much he loves you, so much of what you do reminds him of your mother? To know that while he'd tell me it was okay, while he'd wipe my tears away, every minute would be tearing him apart because I have my mother's eyes? Do you get that? The kind of pain he goes through so I won't go through worse. And I can't let him because it kills me when my dad is hurting."
Stiles stares at the others, catching the eyes of each before he finishes. The looks he gets are of shock, sympathy, pain. There aren't looks of hatred or fear or anger. And in a little way that's worse, because that means they'll be forgiving him and paying attention to him and caring. And yeah maybe he's yelling at them to actually care for once but the problem is the minute they do, that's just someone else for him to lose.
"You say you know me," he whispers. "You say 'Stiles we love you' and 'Stiles, we care' and 'Stiles, Stiles, Stiles'. Except the thing is, that's not even my name. None of you know my name. You never asked. " He moves to leave and turns back to the people he loves. Because he does love them. He knows them and loves them and no matter how much it hurts, he knows he'll always try to protect them. But Stiles also knows that he needs to get away right now. Needs to be alone. So he asks one last question before walking away.
"How can you know me when you don't even know my name?"
I need to write some cheerful Stiles stories to make up for the angst lately. I guess just like "He Doesn't See Himself Disappear", I want to see different ways Stiles reacts to the things in his life. And this time around I wanted to let him lash out.