Stiles was tired. Tired of a best friend that didn't seem to care anymore. Tired of a father that didn't trust him (though, he had to admit, his father had a good reason). Tired of caring for people who didn't give a damn about him (Note: Lydia, Derek, everyone else on the planet…).

And he was done.

Done with all of it.

He was just human. A puny human that couldn't help with anything besides looking things up on a computer. And now, the pack even went to Danny or Lydia before they came to him. He was supposed to be "research guy"! That was his place in the pack – the one thing he was good at!

But that was taken from him too.

He should have expected it. He didn't know how he didn't expect it.

Yesterday was his birthday. The day before that was the anniversary of his mother's death. Two things that he usually had company for. Not a lot of company – most people found him to annoying to be around for that – but some company, none the less.

Scott always, always, came over the day before his birthday. He would sit with Stiles, watch movies, sit quietly while Stiles obsessed with making him mother's favorite recipes. Then, Scott would stay the night. The next day along with Stiles dad, would do everything possible to make sure Stiles had an awesome birthday.

Scott didn't show up this year.

His dad was working overtime at the Sheriffs office, barely finding the time to text a quick Happy Birthday around ten o'clock that morning.

He didn't hear from anyone else.

Not Scott, or Lydia, or Allison (not that he really expected it after the whole trying to kill them all thing), or Danny, Jackson, Isaac, Erica, Boyd…

He hadn't heard from Derek in weeks. He didn't know why it hurt him so much not to hear from him now. He just knew that even thinking of Derek was enough to push a blade of ice into his chest.

He was tired.

Stiles, despite being a good student, had somehow let he grades drop. Well, it wasn't somehow. It was the fact that for months he had been neglecting his schoolwork, focusing on the pack, on researching whatever strange thing came along next.

Of course, he couldn't tell his father that. In his fathers eyes, his son had somehow become the kid that was barely passing school, the kid that got him fired, the kid that lied to him at every opportunity, and the kid that had a restraining order against him from another classmate.

In short, Stiles had become the kid his father never wanted.

And Stiles understood it. He knew how much he had changes since he made that horrible decision to drag Scott in the woods with him to look for a dead body. He knew he messed up. And kept messing up.

Stiles let out a deep sigh, clenching the bottle in his hand. He felt the lid digging into his skin – cutting him. Not that it mattered. Not now.

He swallowed hard, his eyes landing on his phone on the floor next to him. Maybe once more… maybe it would be different this time?

Scott, I need you to call me.

He waited. Maybe this time it would be different. Maybe this time something would happen… unlike the others.

The phone beeped, making the pill bottle crash to the floor. Stiles grabbed it quickly sliding open the message. It wasn't a call, but it was a response… maybe…

Dude, im w/ allison. Have plans w/ Isaac later. C u skool mon.

Stiles let the phone crash to the floor, not caring anymore if it got broken. What did it matter anyway?

He bent over slowly, slowly taking the lid off of the bottle of sleeping pills. It didn't matter. None of it mattered.


His dad. He couldn't leave him alone. Who knew what he would do? Work himself to death. Eat fast food for every meal, every day. Someone needed to watch him.

But that someone didn't need to be him.

Decision made, Stiles tipped the bottle back, letting the contents fall into his mouth. Then he grabbed the beer on his nightstand. They always tell you not to drink on medication, right?

He swallowed the contents, feeling slightly pleased with himself. Maybe this was finally something he wouldn't be able to screw up.

Slowly, he reached for his phone.

Take care of my dad for me.