Word Count: 1413
Pairing: Sterek, pre-slash; Isaac + Erica if you squint
Stiles is very aware that he doesn't bring much to the table when it comes to the pack. There's a reason no one came for him when he was getting beat up by Gerard. His Dad swears up and down that Scott and Isaac were looking for him, but he knows they weren't. They had bigger things to worry about, like making sure Jackson didn't end up dead and stopping Gerard.
He wasn't upset—he refused to be, right? But he knew what it meant.
Yeah, he could research and he couldn't deny that the thing with the mountain ash at the rave had been awesome, but he had a distinct lack of claws, and thus, usefulness.
He wasn't upset.
He appreciates Scott trying to help him get better with lacrosse, really, he does. But the thing is, it's not…it won't be…enough. Because it's not the first time Scott didn't show up when he needed him. There was the pool, too, and when his Dad got attacked by an actual mountain lion while Scott was distracted by his girlfriend.
Stiles didn't enjoy Scott's depression that came from missing Allison, but it was nice in that he finally got to be Scott's number one again.
Except not, because Isaac had wormed his way in.
And once again, Stiles was losing out to werewolf-y weirdness.
Stiles generally tried to be a low-maintenance friend (ignoring the fact that he'd made a copy of Scott's key so he could get into his house) but he had limits. He'd like to actually hang out with Scott, not on werewolf business, you know, once in a blue moon.
He kind of hated that expression, now that he thought about it.
It wasn't like he hated the werewolf stuff! It was incredibly cool. He loved researching it and finding out new weird things Scott could do. He just wished that Scott was still as interested in him as he was in Scott.
It would also have been nice if being a werewolf had made Scott less forgetful, he mused, because he was pretty sure he was being stood up. By his best friend. That was just messed up.
"Do you want more cider?" the server asked.
He'd been nursing his drink for the past thirty minutes, and was indeed out. "Yeah," he muttered, handing her his cup. He texted Scott again (dude where r u) and gratefully took the drink back from the server.
Scott didn't answer, though, so when Stiles finished the cider, he paid the bill and left.
At home, bored, all he could think about was the cider because it had been really delicious, and sometimes he had the tendency to fixate on stuff, okay?
He ended up googling recipes for cider and bookmarking all the ones that looked good in an effort to distract himself from being mad at Scott.
He tried the first recipe the next day, and it was all right, but it was definitely not the taste he wanted. He finished it anyway.
He heard the thump when he was making the second recipe.
Stiles wondered if that was a friendly thump or…something else. Derek was all in a tizzy about the Alpha pack, which, dude, Stiles totally understood. He was just holding on to the foolish hope that they wouldn't bother him.
He was useless, remember? And nobody was gonna come looking for him. That was established.
Thing is, the only people to go into his room without using the front door were Derek and Scott. Neither of them made noises, preferring to surprise him. Probably hoping he'd piss himself.
Which was unlikely, okay? He had good control of his bladder, and he was getting used to walking into his room and finding a guy perched on his bed or at his desk. It was kind of expected at this point (not really. You know, since Stiles was a low priority. Established.)
He gnawed his bottom lip and considered his options. Whoever it was had to be aware of him and was undoubtedly stronger than him. He didn't have a baseball bat, because unlike the McCalls, he followed logic. No play, no own.
But, hey, he was in the kitchen. He grabbed the cleaver they had for some reason (probably purely for looks. Maybe he shouldn't judge the McCalls for that baseball bat.)
Anyway, he headed up the stairs, not bothering to be quiet. He figured it was a wolf, right? They knew he was there.
And, uh, okay, he wasn't expecting Erica to be sprawled across his bed. He gaped at her for a long moment.
"Heeey," she said, and she was breathing hard. "Do you mind? I'm kind of on, the, uh, run. Hunters."
"Hunters," Stiles repeated. "I thought you got kidnapped by the Alphas."
She shook her head quickly. "Got away. But I think they let me so I could draw the hunters away."
"Uh," Stiles said blankly. "You, um, okay?"
"I've been better," she answered. "But I'm not injured. Healed since then."
"Um, good," he said. "Good. Was it the Argents?"
She shook her head. "Nah. Rogues from Portland, I think. I think that's where we were."
She seemed pretty messed up, and a little confused. That was worrying. Hesitantly, Stiles crossed the room and looked out the window. "Did they see you come up here?"
"I don't think so. I run faster than them."
He pulled out his phone and texted Derek. "Erica here. Says hunters followed her."
Derek replied immediately (and hey, that was nice. Stiles had priority!) "On my way. Bringing Isaac."
"Leave Peter," Stiles sent back quickly, because he didn't want to deal with Peter.
Derek didn't answer that, but a couple minutes later, he showed up with Isaac, no Peter.
Isaac crowded Erica on the bed, nuzzling her and petting her hair. She allowed it, and more than that, seemed to lean into him. "Sorry, Isaac," she mumbled.
"Don't leave again," he pleaded quietly.
"Kay," she said.
Stiles tugged on Derek's arm. He gestured to Erica in confusion when he finally had Derek's attention, and then tapped his head.
Derek's eyebrows knit together.
Stiles interpreted that as "I have no idea what you're trying to communicate."
"I'm going to get cider," Stiles said calmly.
Derek followed him downstairs.
Stiles had been mostly done brewing the cider, so he just adds a few spices and turns down the heat before ladling it into a mug and handing it to Derek. "I think something's wrong with Erica. She's like, loopy."
Derek nodded. "Wolfsbane," he suggested. "She might have made up the hunters completely."
Stiles nodded. "It did seem strange." He served himself some of the cider and took a deep drink. "This is so much better than the other one," he mused. To Derek, he asked, "Why did she come here?"
Derek shifted his weight and shrugged. "Smelled like pack."
"Yeah. And since Isaac and I keep dropping by to check on you." Derek shrugged again.
Stiles gaped at him. "You—"
Derek raised an eyebrow at him. "What?"
"Why are you checking on me?" he asked, because he wanted to know why he mattered enough to merit that. He didn't do stuff. People didn't rescue him. Established.
Derek took a drink, and his eyebrows actually lifted (In pleasure? Stiles wondered). "This is good."
Stiles beamed. "Good." And then, "Seriously, why?"
Derek frowned at him. "You're pack. The Alphas are looking for weak links, we assume, and they might mistake you for that."
"Mistake me…" Stiles voice trailed off. He didn't really get where Derek was going with that.
Derek scowled at him. "You're not a weak link. If anyone is, it's Scott. But you're human and…breakable. It would be easy for them to take you away from us…"
"So I'm the weak link," Stiles said. "None of that lined up."
Derek drank more cider and shook his head. "Not the weak link. You have the spark. And you're smart. If we lost you, we'd be forced to rely on Peter to come up with plans."
Stiles felt ridiculously flattered. "You need me?"
Derek frowned at him. "Don't let it go to your head." He finished his mug and eyed the pot with interest.
Stiles elbowed him. "Need enough for Isaac and Erica," he mumbled, and served up two more mugs. "Should we be worried about Erica being doped up on wolfsbane?"
Derek shrugged. "Guess we'll find out."
Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf.
A/N: This was the result of me rewatching the finale of Season 2 today, and crying over everything because no one came for Stiles and that's messed up okay. But. Written for the 25 Days of Ficmas (which are almost over and I've done really well, all right?).