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Dead or Alive

Chapter Text


"But I’m only human
And I bleed when I fall down
I’m only human
And I crash and I break down"




His routine was simple. He wakes up, or at least tries to, he showers, he skips breakfast, he goes to school, he feels numb, he comes back home, he feels numb, he tries to sleep. And then he repeats it again and again for these past months. No text, no calls, no visits. His dad is always working, to busy to come home check on his only son.

It hurt, it hurts, but now what Stiles feels is numb. He doesn't care, thin or waste his time on pity party. Stiles doesn't remember the last time he talked with The Pack- oh wait yeah he does.

Exactly 4320 hours ago, that's 180 days ago, it's 3 months when his 'brother'  tore his fucking heart and no his not being dramatic, oh no he's being honest for the first time in his life. His heart was ripped and stepped on like a piece of used paper. To say that Stiles was angry that night was an underestimate, he was livid and then when no one heard him he cried, he cried his soul out. He creamed, broke thing and had a panic attack which resulted in him passing out on the floor and waking only to realize he missed school.

Then he didn't bother to show up there, no one called as was said previously.

They  ignored him, at first that is, then when some of them  still tried to communicate, the slammed him into walls, lockers, doors. The choices were displayed clearly. Oh and let's not talk about the verbal abuse they used that way more than needed for him to get the message. Only when he snapped, only when he lost his shit in the middle of the cafeteria they stopped. 

He stood there, facing them. His brain hardly registering what was coming from Erica's mouth.  The main 'personas' who took upon themselfs to humiliate him even further were  Scott, Erica, Lydia and sometimes Liam, but the look on his face showed guilt for couple of seconds, only to be masked by disgust. 

Stiles snapped back to reality only to hear the last words.

"...burden."  Scott finished and looked at others for approval. 

"What did you just said ?"  Stiles asked, his fist trembling, voice getting louder, attracting good amount of eyes on them. Scott looked surprised for a second, but quickly recovered  and folded his hand in front of him stepping closer to Stiles. At this Stiles wold have taken a step back, but he chose to stay put.

"I said  that you were a burden from the start."  Scott barley  finished his sentence when he felt a blow to his face. With all the werewolf  healing he still could feel pain for a few second. Also anyone who were in the cafeteria could hear the loud 'crack'  of Stiles's knuckles.

"I have done nothing, but to save your ass, McCall, you hear me you piece of shit-" Stiles yelled  his face red with anger. "-not only your, but this fucking town too, your so called pack wouldn't exist if it weren't for me YOU HEAR ME !"  Scott got up, still holding his cheek, eyes wide and mouth hanging open, similar to others.

 Stiles looked around and started to laugh, feeling tired and helpless again. He laughed and under his breath whispered to himself, of course those who had supernatural hearing heard it.

"Fuck this shit."  Stiles picked up his backpack and left, leaving everyone in a state of pure shook and terror.


"Your words in my head, knives in my heart
You build me up and then I fall apart
'Cause I'm only human"


And that's were he's now. Sitting on his bed, his eyes red and puffy, breathing shallow. His hand were trembling and one leg bouncing. He got up and paced around his room, thinking and sorting, or at least trying to, sort his head out. One choice was on his night table. He let out a sob mixed with his laughter. Stiles ran his hands trough his hear and down his face. He shook his head, talking to himslef. He wouldn't dare to do that. He just can't so that. Stiles doesn't have the right. What about dad ? What will happen to him ? When will he find Stiles ? ... But it would be so simple, so gentle. He would feel happy again. He would, wouldn't he ? Happy.  He tried, he tried so many times to fix it, to fix himself. And he failed. But he tried... that counts... right ?

With watery eyes and shaking hands he managed to send one last text to his dad.

To: Dad

I lovhe iyou


"I can turn it on
Be a good machine
I can hold the weight of worlds
If that's what you need
Be your everything"


He threw his phone on the floor and picked up the bottle with blue label. His night routine. Sleeping pills that helped him for a couple of hours,  his friends. He opened the cap and poured the content on his palm, some pills spilling on the floor. With a dry throat he somehow swallowed them, he then cried out while he sat on the edge of the bed, small bottle spilling from his hand and the other gripping the bed sheets so hard he tore holes there. He already felt dizzy and sleepy. 

"STILES" His eyes snapped open and still with small doze of consciousness, he stood up, but the pills already affecting him made him swing. Everything happened quickly. As he stood up, the door to his bedroom opened, but he couldn't make put who it was, because he was already falling down and then he felt strong pain on his head. Stiles vision went black. He didn't feel anything.

He didn't feel happy. 

"I can do it
I can do it
I'll get through it"


Chapter Text



Derek looked out the window, city lights below him illuminating his face. Faint sounds of busy streets filled the large room. In his right hand he was holding a glass with whiskey in it, which, of course, didn't effect him at all. All this morning, or since he left the damned town, he felt this feeling, this sense, deep inside of him. Derek felt as if he was rotting from inside, but today... today was different. 

He shaked it off, as always and took a sip from his glass. Suddenly, pain pierced his heart, like a twisted knife laced with poison. The glass shattered on the floor spilling its content. He let out a roar and gripped his chest while kneeling on the floor. Hi s sister appeared in his room shortly after that.

"Derek !" Cora rushed to his side and with shaky hands tried to help her brother. "Oh my God, Derek, what's wrong ?!" 

"T-th-" He gasped out and with nearly stable hand pointed to the coffee table near by. 

"P-phon-" Even in panicked situation Cora gathered herself pretty quickly, wiped her tears away and grabbed the cellphone laying there. 

Her brother was now on all fours, inhaling deep breaths. She shoved the phone in his hand, not knowing what else to do and he began tapping the screen and then pressed it to his ear.

"Hey it's Scott-"

"McCall, what happened?"

"-please leave a message."

He gritted his teeth, almost crushing his phone in his hand.

"Der, wha-" 

"I'm going back to Beacon Hills." With deep inhale Derek stood up, leaving his sister sitting on the floor and walked out of the room.

Soon after Cora Hale followed him.



Sheriff John Stilinski loved his son. God knows he adored the boy, how can't he ? He was a blessing that he created with his beloved wife. So when he, finally, left his work space and discovered his front door wide open he got concerned and his father instincts kicked in. His son's, old, but loved Jeep was parked messily on their front yard, Sheriff made a mental note to give a lecture later. But humor was long gone when he opened the door wider and saw his boy's backpack, pieces of broken vase and picture frames broken on the floor, his heart picked up a pace instantly.  

"STILES !" he yelled, his gun in his hand ready to face whatever was in this house.

Then he heard a thud. He felt something, something bad in his chest. He knew there was no intruder.

He knew. 

"911 to my house right away, FAST." John yelled into his portable radio, receiving a response. He ran up the stairs and threw the door open. 

His eyes widened at the sight before him. Stiles, his Stiles, was laying there, unresponsive with blood gushing out of his head. 

"Oh, kid, what did you do ?" He rushed to his son's side and took him in his arms, not caring about blood smearing his uniform. His tears were streaming down his cheeks and he was screaming, rocking Stiles back and fort. Somehow he noticed an empty pill bottle on the floor. Forcing himself steady, he rolled Stiles body on his side and stuck two fingers down his throat, making Stiles vomit some content out. 

"Come on, boy, COME ON !" 

After a few seconds strangers filled Stiles room, grabbing him from his dad's hands and rolling him out of the house. Sheriff followed close behind, not caring about papers, blood or shouts coming his way. They rolled Stiles into a car, patching him up, trying to keep him alive.

John Stilinski never let go of his son's cold hand.



Stiles opened his heavy eyes and immediately regretted this choice. White light was burning all around him, making him scrunch his face and blink rapidly to adjust the light. 

"God ? Lucifer ?" He called out, but got no response. None whatsoever, only silence- no wait, there was a faint beeping. It got louder as he saw more clearly now. That white light was a lamp hanging off the ceiling and that beeping was coming from a small monitor right beside his right ear. 

"I'm alive ?" He whispered and sat up. "Oh shit." He touched his face and and let out a laugh. He turned to his left side to find his dad sitting in a chair next to him, his face tired, eyes red and puffy. 

"Oh I'm so sorry, dad, I-I was weak and, and they just got to me," Stiles stood up from his bed, swinging a little. "The thoughts were just horrible and..." He trailed off noticing that the Sheriff didn't react to his words. "Dad ? Pops ? " He got a little closer to the chair he was sitting in. "Hello...?" Stiles waved his hand in front of his dad, but didn't get any response. Again.  

Stiles breath grew heavier and he turned around. What he saw was shocking and unbelievable. He, Stiles, was laying there on a hospital bed, pale as Snow White and with a white bandage warped around his head. Stiles was laying there, unresponsive and cold like ice.

The other Stiles's mouth fell open and his body went numb. He was dead, or at least in some kind of coma. 

"Oh my God." He breathed out. Suddenly horrible pain pierced the side of his head and he groaned, falling to the floor and gripping the spot. He gasped out, feeling dizzy and sick. The pain lasted a few seconds longer and soon he got up. Waiting a little longer for his balance to come back, he rushed to his laying form and looked at his head. The was a small deep red spot on his right side. Then he went to a small bathroom and looked at a mirror, noticing he wasn't in the hospital gown. He was wearing his clothes from the day. 

"This is not happening right now." He gripped his head and pulled on his hair a little. "Only in Beacon fucking Hills." Stiles sight and left the bathroom already thinking of some kind of plan. His thoughts, however, were cut short when the door to his hospital room was thrown open. Stiles was shocked the second time, when he saw who the visitor was. 

"Derek ?!" Stiles and his dad yelled at the same time, but Derek only heard one voice.

And it belonged to Stiles.

Chapter Text

Not a chapter. 

Hello everyone or those who once read these two short chapters. I'm really sorry for abandoning this work for so long and not explaining why I stopped updating. I decided to stop writing this work, and discontinue it. I will not delete it, maybe I will finish it at some point but now I simply can't. 

You noticed that this is a dark and brutal story and what I planned to do with it was much darker. I was in a really, really, really dark place when I wrote this. I hated myself and this hanging in my folder didn't help me. I hope that you understand. 

Also If you are or were in a dark place reach out to some one, you can talk with me if you want. I advise you to try to live for yourself and not for others. That's what I did and I'm much better now. 
Thank you for understanding. 

Bye for now.