Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Stiles looks around at his cement studio apartment, it was cold, one room cramped kitchen and bathroom more like a stall with a locker-room shower. His bedroom is his living room and barely either. His bed is on the floor and the most he has as possessions is a wobbly desk he collected before the trash man could and some old pictures and figures he got from his mother. Who's now gone along with his father and he's alone.

He has a fan because its the beginning of summer and he can't move a finger without sweating in the heat box he calls home. It's still better than his old apartment that he barely got to see he worked so much just for rent. This place is cheap and he can just barely pay for it, groceries, and necessities on the profit he makes selling arrows to the Argent family. They even provide him with material and tools so he doesn't run off with his business. That's why he was here living on the edge of a small town named beacon hills. The town was depressing to say the least to anyone else it looked like a beautiful quaint town with humble locals but all Stiles saw was misery radiating from all of them. It made his skin crawl made it feel like something is trying to break out of his skin burst forward and cure them all.

Where stiles used to live in Compton people used to try to taunt him, beat him, seduce him and it all felt better than now being looked down on and felt sorry for by other miserable people. He feels trapped in his own skin, being suffocated, constricted, constrained, confined, stuck. Sometimes he scratches at himself until he bleeds trying to find the thing just under his skin. Ever since he moved here its been amplified almost risen to unbearable levels. He feels like he's going crazy.

He feels like he's going to die.

It's a familiar sensation he remembers having it when he was younger, after his mom died every time he was around his father he felt this unbearable sadness and loneliness radiating from him, it made Stiles want to tear his flesh away and let whatever it was free. Every time he wanted to jump off a building and just free himself though he didn't want to die he just wanted to fly. His mom used to say the same thing, she worked around lonely people she felt what he feels. She wanted to claw out of her skin, she wanted to fly.

She flew.

But she left him and his dad, and Stiles can't blame her. He now knows what she went through, he wants to soar.

Chapter Text

Stiles has taken special notice to a few locals there's a blond guy with curly hair and eyes tha never seem to smile, a brilliant blue stuck in sadness. When stiles sees him milling around the graveyard like he's saying hi to old friends the skin on his back itches just begging to be scratched. Then there's the blond girl who works at the coffee shop and smile is always fake. Shes the kind of person everyone believes is fine but she really isn't. Then there's the other guy tall, dark, and handsome and not a friend in the world besides the two blonds and all their repressed feelings for one another. There's the lonely town sheriff. The lonely nurse with a troublesome but sweet teenage boy who's the only truly happy person Stiles has seen in this town. But his girlfriend seems to need more than just him. It's all so overwhelming, all these people going through life empty it makes Stiles skin crawl and the urge to fly feels almost unbearable. He knows he has to be strong, he can't be weak, can't fall prey to these feelings like his mom had. He doesn't want anybody to find his body at the base of a building, smiling face haunting every witness. He doesn't want it to end like that he doesn't want to die but he can't repress these feelings, seeing these people and the pain everywhere.

He remembers when it started it was right after his mom died trying to fly, his dad's sadness would suffocate him wrap him in its tendrils and squeeze him until he blacked out. He would claw at his back for hours, they thought he was going crazy; he thought he was going crazy but he knew something was underneath he just needed to find it. He just needed to find it!!

His mom died in the fall of his junior year of high school by the summer he was in therapy and counseling at school. His dad told him he couldn't bare to be around him, that he loved him but all he saw was his mom when he looked at him. During that summer his dad told him that his mom used to claw at her back too used to cry and carve at herself trying to release everything she felt. What his dad didn't know was that it wasn't her feelings it was everyone else's they ate at her making her practically insane with anguish; pulling her smiling face down with their pain. Stiles feels that, everyday he feels a step closer to the edge of that same building his mom went over.

Inner Beacon Hills was even worse than the cookie cutter colorful houses surrounding it. It was seedy and desperate like its occupants the misery was tangible yet disguised as fun. He was lucky his less than attractive apartment building was pushed to the very edge of town only there because some big company needed somewhere to house there monkeys, said monkeys were Stiles grumpy neighbors that made his life even more miserable. Thanks big business.

He didnt know how he was going to survive… inner Beacon Hills made him cringe, the people were like leeches sucking away his control the urge to claw out of his skin was back in full swing. The two best friends aching to climb into bed together but the red head hanging off the arm of one was an obstacle not that she even wanted to be with the blond and couldn't feel the electricity between the two friends, maybe she was too lonely herself to let go.

Stiles set off on another path to get to the Argent's apartment not wanting to come to close to that much sadness and sexual frustration. He could feel a presence following him but he couldn't sense any emotions- the person was too far away. Stiles went on faux nonchalantly and kept his guard up, he knew how these things worked.

Derek followed the boy to the Argent's apartment he was deffinetly a supernatural creature but what kind and why is he selling the Argent's arrows. Derek saw him avoid Jackson he was probably aware of Derek's pack. Who was this guy? He was wearing tight jeans and a loose almost flowy tank top like something a girl would wear but he looked good his sharp collar bones on display and his lean arms and strong hands, Derek could tell he was an archer maybe even a hunter. Whatever he was he was dangerous and too unknown for Derek's liking. He needed to find out more.

Derek follows him to the edge of town using his werewolf speed to keep up with his jeep. They ended up at a seedy apartment building Derek doesn't know if its a trap or the guy actually lived here. He waits for him to leave his car hiding behind another car in the parking lot.

"I know you're there." The guy sing songs as he exits his car," I don't know why you're following me but if you're looking for something special you're wasting your time."

Stiles sighs. The stalker is very persistent and he doesn't have time for it.

"What do you want!?" Stiles yells pissed off.

A man steps from behind a nondescript car looking like a stereotypical bad guy in a good porno. Well… Stiles wasn't expecting this. The guy steps closer and Stiles almost chokes on the loneliness radiating off of him in waves. He feels like suffering, loss and failure. Stiles steps back, the man halts his advancements.

"Who are you?" Stiles squeaks out. "Wait why am I asking the guy who stalked me here who he is… wait no, yeah who are you?" Stiles takes another step back.

"Question is who are you?" The man looms closer. Stiles walks up the stairs to the door of the building with out taking his eyes off the man.

"I asked you first." Stiles says. He feels the man emotions snatching at him trying to reach him. Suddenly the man bounds up the stairs Stiles tries to get away but before he can he's being thrown up against the door the man pressed close to him hands fisted into Stiles top. The mans hazel eyes lock onto his and his harsh breaths ghost over him. Before he can say anything his body starts reacting to the sadness palpable over the man like a cloud of doom.

He felt like the world was crashing down around him. He suddenly couldn't breathe like his lungs gave up on him. He felt tears stream down his face as he attempted to gasp for breath. It felt like his insides were being ripped open and torn out. His blood ran cold with fear as he began to convulse.

"Get away!" He managed to stutter out. He was shaking so hard he could barely open the door. The man followed him, Stiles had to get him away. "You're fucking killing me!" Stiles cried as he tried to run away. He scrambled for his keys fumbling with the lock as he pushed into his apartment slammed and locked the door.

He could still feel the man on the other side of the door so he scrambled to his bed. The itch on his back was more like an inferno now he ripped off his shirt and began to claw at his back the familiar feeling of blood and skin under his finger nails. Something was starting to shift under his skin, something poked at his back and he pulled at it finding a bloody feather. Oh my god what was happening to him? He felt his back rip open the pain making him scream before he blacked out.

Derek burst into the room to find the boy passed out covered in blood white wings covering him. There was blood but his wounds were healing rapidly, faster than Derek ever could. The boy's breathing evened out. He was okay.

Chapter Text

Stiles was dead. Or at least he felt dead, his back felt like it had been ripped apart, like someone took a knife and dragged it down his back through skin and bone in two sharp lines. He had been sure he’d gotten away from that guy, but he blanked out and couldn’t remembered what happened after he ran inside.
He opened his eyes slowly and recognizing the familiar cement of his apartment walls, everything looked to be normal, no signs of a struggle just the burning pain in the center of his back. What if he’d had another attack and this time he’d used a weapon, lord knows he had access to hundreds of arrows and carving and cutting tools. Stiles pushed himself up on shaking arms from where he lay on his bed quickly noticing splatters of blood littering the white sheets, still a deep, fresh, red. Oh God what did he do? He slowly brought his hands to his face almost retching when he saw blood stained finger tips. He shot up like a bolt not noticing the unfamiliar weight on his back until it unbalanced him leaving him staring up at the exposed light bulb hanging from his ceiling from his new position on the floor.
A familiar sense of pain and loneliness began to overtake him before he saw a slightly familiar figure staring down at him from his desk chair. He jumped quickly flipping the figure right side up recognizing the figure as his stalker.
“Calm down.” The man said before he could even scream.
He still screamed.
He turned to run but an unfamiliar weight slowed him down. Stopping stock still Stiles reached for his back, freezing when he felt feathers and something hard like bone. Turning to the man slowly coming towards him palms out like he was a startled animal. Every time the man took a step forward Stiles took a step back until his legs hit the bed then he scrambled back until he hit the wall. Pain lurched through his back with the contact. A shallow moan escaped him at the pain.
“What the fuck did you do to me?!” he screamed at the man still at the foot of his bed. He reached back grabbing at the tender appendages spanning from his back. They were coming out of his skin, oh God, he fingered at the center of his back where he could feel the bone like structure protruding from his back and arching out towards his shoulders.
“What. The fuck. Did you do. To. Me?!!!” Stiles screamed at the stranger. The man’s face seemed to harden from where he still stood at the foot of the bed. The bed oh God it looked like a crime scene red blood splatter everywhere amongst the wrinkled sheets. The wings, Stiles noticed and yes he had wings, spanned at about his arm’s length, but unlike the depictions of Angels he’s seen they weren’t as long as his body, they were only about a foot and a half long at his longest feathers which were at the tips and his wings got skinnier the closer to his back the part protruding from his body only about five inches long. What the fuck was happening to him.
“I didn’t do this to you,” his attention snapped towards his stalker, “when I heard you scream I broke into the room and found you like this. I don’t know who or what you are but this is my territory and I don’t take kindly to strangers barging in unannounced!”
“YOUR territory?! What the fuck are you talking about? You stalked me! And then I wake up with WINGS! THIS IS YOUR FAULT! You and your creepy aura and cloud of misery hanging around you! I told you to leave me alone you psychopath!” Stiles quickly grabbed the cross bow he kept between the wall and bed and pointed it at the stranger. “Now tell me what you did to me!” Stiles adjusted the bow focusing it on the stranger’s eye, then chest, and back picking his soft spot.
“You think that’ll hurt me?” the stranger smirked, his eyes suddenly flared a bright red, before he seemed to transform. From one moment to the next Stiles was no longer staring at a man but a monster. Fuck. Stiles scanned the room for a way out but his apartment had no window he could get to he would have to fight this Monster.
“What are you?! Why are you doing this to me?!” Stiles demanded before suddenly he could see the life of the man flash before his eyes, time seemed to move backwards, stopping at every terrible thing that ever happened to him starting with him ripping out the throat of a severely burned man, being tortured by a blond woman, almost dying from a bullet wound, finding half the body of a women Stiles would assume was his family from the familiar features, moving to New York with the same woman, standing outside of a burning home with the same woman now a girl, crying over the body of a young girl at what appeared to be the base of a tree.
Derek watched the winged boy’s eyes go blank, literally turn completely white, as he stared at Derek in his beta-form. The blank look caused Derek to change back, the boy looked frozen where he stood trapped in his own mind. Oh God he had broken the kid. He did the only thing he could think of and called Deaton.
“Hello?” Deaton answered in his fake polite but really ‘why did you bother me?’ voice.
“Deaton, I have a problem I just found this kid who apparently doesn’t know he can grow wings, and now his eyes are completely white and I’m not even sure he’s breathing honestly he looks frozen.” Derek stared at the kid, maybe young man, in front of him.
“What did he act like before he grew the wings?” Deaton asked, the urgency in his voice making Derek tense up.
“He screamed at me to get away, said I was killing him and ran from me, he looked like he was in pain, but I didn’t actually see him change. By the time I burst into his room he was passed out on his bed bloody wounds from where the wings grew healing extremely quickly.” Derek impatiently waited for Deaton to tell him why this was important.
“Derek,” Deaton said his voice cautionary, “I need you to leave him-”
“What?!”
“Derek! Listen to me, he’s not dangerous, but if you stay there you will overwhelm him. His kind are tuned in with the feelings of everyone around them, things like sadness, guilt, stress, and other negative emotions can trigger them in extremely negative ways, and unfortunately you are plagued with all those emotions, so please leave him, come here I’ll explain it all to you.” This being the first time Derek had ever heard Deaton speak with any kind of emotion he was inclined to listen. He gave a short okay and left the boy making sure to shut the door so that his neighbor’s wouldn’t see him like this, with one last look Derek headed to Deaton’s. Belatedly he hoped the kid was okay.

Chapter Text

"So you're telling me this kid is a sad Cupid?" Derek leveled one unimpressed eyebrow in Deaton's direction.

"His kind mostly fit with modern beliefs about what Cupid does but no he is not Cupid. Most legends refer to them as "Angels of love" or "Angels of misery" because of their urge to fix people with the power of love." Deaton leveled him with an eyebrow of his own.

"Oh great where was he when we needed him during the kanima" Derek deadpanned.

"Listen Derek this is serious, his kind don't have a lot of research done on them because they usually commit suicide before they ever present their wings. Usually the constant bombardment of everyone's negative feelings lead them to hurting themselves.

Because they are human until they grow their wings the act of trying to claw their wings out either physically wounds them or gets them institutionalized which just drives them crazier. Or they attempt to fly before they get their wings which leads to injuries, more questions about mental health, and mostly death. There hasn't been a lot of study done on what happens to areas that have an "Angel of love" amongst them, so while I do know he is innocent so far, I don't know what effect he'll have on Beacon Hills" Deaton handed Derek a flash drive. "This is all the information I have on his kind. Oh and I suggest you keep your distance from him for at least two weeks, his emotional connection to others will be at an all time high and won't do well with negative emotions." Deaton opened the door and smiled his "kindly get the fuck out" smile.

Derek said his thanks and left wearing his "I'm not really going to listen to your warnings" face.

……………………………………………

Stiles was losing his mind. Possibly in the most romantic way possible. After his weird vision of his stalker's tragic past he woke up with his bow aimed at nothing. But he still had wings, he'd been hoping it was all a dream, and furthermore hoping he could blame the stranger for his sudden transformation but he knew in his heart that this has been the reason for his mother's death. She tried to fly.

In a weird way it was comforting knowing that she wasn't aiming to kill herself but to free these wings just under the skin. He wished he could tell her he freed his own.

Stiles stripped the ruined sheets off of the bed first putting them into a garbage bag, he highly doubted it was worth his time and effort to attempt to scrub the blood out. He put on fresh sheets and re-hid his bow. He attempted to get the door to shut properly again surprised to find he was much stronger than before. All of a sudden he had the urge to craft an arrow and figured he might as well start on his next order for Argent seeing as though he needed the money as soon as possible.

The problem is he doesn't remember making the arrow, one second he sat down to work, the next he's in the alley in downtown Beacon Hills staring at two friends walking home from what looked to be an epic shopping trip. The girls giggled as they trotted along with bags draped from both arms.

It was the redhead, and Argent's daughter whom he'd recently met, Allison her name was. The absolute sexual tension between the two was enough to make his chest hurt and his fingers itch. That's when he noticed the bow in his hands. He wanted to shoot them.

Oh god he wants to shoot them! What the fuck is wrong, Stiles was not a murderer, he wasn't! He attempted to drop the bow and watched in horror as his hands lifted the bow of their own accord aiming at the redhead. He didn't want to do this! He didn't want to hurt anyone! He wanted to shoot her so bad. Stiles struggled to breathe as he felt his hands aim on their own accord. It was like his thoughts didn't matter he was a slave to his body. But he knew that even though on the surface he didn't want to hurt these girls there was a voice in the back of his head saying "shoot". With tears springing to his eyes he shot.

The arrow made a soft whoosh through the air and struck the red head in the chest making her gasp and come to a halt eyes dilating rapidly. He watched as for a split second she felt the sensation of her heart being pierced by the arrowhead before it suddenly erupted into thin air and her pain along with it. Stiles watched enraptured as she abruptly turned to her brunette friend. Her bags hit the cobbled ground with a dull thump before she had Argent crowded against the wall her own bags slipping out of her grip. Within a second the redhead attacked her with her mouth, using a grip on Allison's shirt to pull her closer.

As he watched them devouring each other's lust, satisfying their carnal desires for each other completely free of their former ties and setbacks, for the first time in a long time he felt satisfied.

Chapter Text

Stiles felt intoxicated.

He stumbled down the alley way wing tip dragging along the wall to his right as he swayed in that direction then the next. A smile lit up his face as he saw a dark haired man passing a mocha skinned woman. He aimed his bow and let go a wobbly shot, it went a little off kilter hitting the man in the shoulder. This only made Stiles giggle. Just like before he jolted pupils dilating and abruptly turned to catch up with the woman.

"Hey, umm, you're in my English 102 right…"
Stiles left giggling watching the guy rub the back of his neck and stumble through what most assuredly was an invitation to go on a date. Stiles walked the dim lit streets no particular direction in mind. Fifteen minutes had past before he realized how completely lost he was, looking up at the large apartment building in front of him he felt a familiar wave of misery.

"Oh lord the wolfman's here." Stiles sing-songed and continued to walk feeling the man's presence behind him.

"Well are you going to greet me wolfman?" Stiles laughed to himself.

"We prefer the term werewolf," Derek emerged from the shadows, "what are you doing out with your wings showing?"

"No one has seen me! And quit your grumpiness, not even your ball of misery can bring me down tonight!" Stiles sat on a bench further along the street.

"What about those arrows you make for the hunters lodged in your chest? Could that bring you down Stiles?" Derek loomed over him, waves of disappointment pouring off of him.

"Hunters? How do you know my name?!" Stiles jumped off the bench getting right into Derek's face.

"I do my research." Derek smirked not moving an inch when Stiles crowded his space. "The Argent's are hunters, you moron, they buy arrows from you to shoot supernatural creatures! You are now a supernatural creature, so you need to stop walking the street in full Angel mode before they put you down!" Derek growled.

"They burned your family…" fat tears spilled from Stiles eyes as a fresh wave of misery hit him full force. He jumped up stumbling back from Derek as he was hit with another powerful wave. "Oh my God they're murderers!" Stiles shook, lifting from the ground a little.

…………………………………………

Oh shit what did Derek just do? He watched as Stiles eyes flashed between his normal honey brown and a disturbing white color. Fuck! Deaton told him to stay away, shit!

"You were so young…" Stiles voice sounded oddly distorted registering on a deeper level that sent a chill up Derek's spine. Stiles eyes seemed to snap to him, he was floating. He was fucking floating.

"Stiles!" Derek yelled grabbing at his arms trying to ground him. "Stiles listen to me you need to find an anchor! Stiles stay with me, think of something that makes you feel good. What makes you happy?"

Stiles eyes switch back to amber fresh tears spilling as he collapses into Derek's arms mumbling something that sounds suspiciously like "Love."

With a wish of displaced air Stiles was gone and Derek was stuck staring at his recently vacated spot. "Fuck."

Chapter Text

Lydia was in love. With her best friend. Fuck, what was she gonna tell Jackson? At the time she didn't think she just saw Allison and it was like all the puzzle pieces fit together like she solved the equation of life and the answer was love. Pure, unadulterated, life giving love. She had never felt this way about anyone but Allison was it for her it was perfect! Match made in heaven some would say. But she had a boyfriend and so did Allison.

That's when reality came crashing back. What the hell did they do about Jackson and Scott because Lydia did love Jackson and she knew Ally loved Scott but they loved each other more and what that meant she didn't know. She was a genius until it came to matters of the heart, useless.

She spent a considerable amount of time thinking of ways to rectify this situation, well an hour before she had the urge to see Allison again. Apparently they were thinking the same thing because not even a second later there was a knock on her apartment door.

They were in eachother's arms before the door was fully open. Lydia gasp as her back hit the wall across from her door Ally attacking her mouth like she needed it to live. She fought back just as hard gripping Allisons shirt pulling her impossibly closer and inside. Allison came up for air first gripping Lydia's hair and pulling her back once more.

"Fuck!" Lydia moaned into Allison's mouth, this was literally like nothing she's ever experienced before. The passion choked her leaving her breathless gasping into Allison's mouth holding onto her like a lifeline pulling her as close as possible.

"Lyds!" Allison gasped into her mouth conveying everything with one word, Lydia felt the same way.

…………………………………………

Derek searched all around town and still couldn't find Stiles, he checked angsty places, he checked happy places, he checked seedy places, he checked seedier places that part still made him cringe. Until finally he made his way back to Stiles' apartment following a thin trail of feathers from the parking lot, he was almost relieved until he saw what Stiles was doing.

Opening the door he let out an inaudible gasp. Stiles was shirtless hunched over his desk furiously carving the dowel of an arrow. Which Derek would like to note could've been done much easier using a lathe but what does he know. This sight wasn't overall startling if you didn't take into account that he had huge wings ripped from deep looking cuts in his back and his eyes were whited out in that weird blank look he gets sometimes. Sometimes like now they're whited out like storm from x-men, other times you can still see his pupils his eye color is just stark white. Being that Derek's own eyes change red he shouldn't be so uneasy about this but he is.

He goes to reach for Stiles but before he can Stiles rounds on him leaving them face to face not even a few inches apart.

"What do you want wolfman?" The eery deep voice back in full swing, Stiles takes a step closer putting them nose to nose.

"Stiles snap out of it!" Derek huffs taking a step back. This kid was seriously off his shit.

"Your first girlfriend died from a werewolf bite, you dated a werewolf hunter, the Argents killed you're family, your own uncle killed your sister, then you were forced to kill him. You're hurt Derek, you're guilty, I can make it go away."

Stiles was like lightning grabbing the arrow he was working on and holding it to Derek's neck.

"Stiles," Derek breathed careful not to puncture himself. "Stiles, listen to me. I'm fine, I don't want it to go away." Derek kept his eyes locked to Stiles' own, trying not to make any sudden movements and startle him.

"Derek I can feel it." Stiles gets impossibly closer to him the tip of the arrow starting to break skin. That's when Derek notices Stiles lips, warm deep red, accentuated by a perfect Cupid's bow (ironic). Derek's eyes travel to Stiles various moles making a constellation down to his collarbone and into his shirt. The tendons defined in his long neck leading back up to a strong jaw and beautiful honey eyes.
Honey.

Derek suddenly snaps out of his reverie watching as Stiles draws away from him with frantic mumbled apologies.

"Oh my god Derek I'm so sorry, shit, I just want to make it all go away, I want to fix it!" Stiles has this manic look in his amber eyes like he doesn't quite realize why he's saying what he's saying.

"I just want to fix it." His eyes water slightly gearing up for the water works. Shit.

"Stiles, look at me," Derek gently grips Stiles chin moving until they are eye to eye, " I know a doctor who specializes in the supernatural, he may be your best bet for feeling out how to deal with these feelings, he's helped some wolves from my pack."

Stiles wants to scream and shout "No!" He doesn't need help and he doesn't need the pity of a sourwolf but he still wants to stab Derek with an arrow so he figures he should see someone about this.

Chapter Text

Stiles made his way through the shadows to the address Derek gave him, it was a dark night but he still stuck to the shadows because you know, wings, and… this can't be right. A fricken animal clinic?! He has to be joking, oh my god he has to be kidding! Stiles slammed a fist on the brick and was startled to see it crumble under his fist. Derek thought he was funny sayings VET!! helped some of his wolfy friends, but he wasn't! He was so far from funny with this bullshit. Just as Stiles turned to walk away the vet door jingled open.

"Stiles?" A guy with dark hair and a slightly crooked jaw opened the door. "You have to be Stiles I don't think anyone else in Beacon Hills has wings." The guy laughed and held the door open to him in a 'come on in' gesture. "I'm Scott, I'm a part of Derek's pack, I work here Doctor Deaton's inside."

Scott, Stiles recognized him as the nurse's son, the happy one. Stiles could feel no bad energy from him so he let himself be led to the back of the animal clinic staying alert incase this was some type of prank.

Stiles didn't know how to feel about the vet, he was… tranquil Stiles guessed you could use that word to describe Deaton. More like enigmatic.

"Stiles." Deaton smiled politely gesturing to the chair across from the exam table he was standing over. He was gently coaxing medicine to a kitten. "This is just my last patient then we can talk." Deaton smiled as he heard the kitten swallow. Stiles watched as Scott gently swaddled the little kitten in a blanket and left the room.

"So what's happening to me?" Stiles cut right to the chase not bothering to sugar coat his concerns.

"Well essentially you are Cupid, you feel the sadness of those around you and your instincts seek to fix that sadness or misery with the ultimate healing of love. This can be a terrible experience growing up not knowing exactly what's wrong with you, not knowing why you want to fix people or why you want to fly? It's all a lot for one person and as an effect a lot of your kind die very early on from what is thought to be suicide but is usually an attempt to free their wings. As for the arrows you will feel the urge to shoot people but the arrows will not harm them. You have a special brand of magic that's makes the arrow mostly painless and it disappears shortly after." Deaton laid out all the information that Stiles Had been formulating in his own head since his episode a few nights ago.

He was sort of stuck, it's not everyday you find out your some sort of magical creature. That his mom, was the same thing and she just happened not to survive it. Thoughts zipped through Stiles' head with no particular rhythm, he was a creature like Cupid?!?! Of all the super powers to get, who ever thought "oh! I want to shoot people and make them fall in love!" No one. Especially not Stiles it's like not even consensual now that he thinks about it, he's like a sugar coated serial rapist! Okay that is not the right train of thought. But it the feeling he gets when people fall in love, it finally fills the void. And those two girls were the beginning of it, oh shit!

"Oh shit!" Stiles exclaimed. Fuck! Fuck! One of those girls is Scott's girlfriend. Oh crap! He fucked up a relationship! He fucked up a whole relationship on his first try!

"Stiles! Stiles calm down!" Scott was shaking him. He held Stiles face to look straight at him. "Stiles what's wrong?" Scott's voice was pleasant and calming, but his face just reminded Stiles of what he'd done. He ruined Scott's relationship! Scott, the only truly happy person in this whole fucked up town and he ruined his relationship! Stiles is going to hell, white angel wings be damned, literally. He needed to get out of here.

Stiles felt an audible pop of air then suddenly he was in his apartment, exhaustion took over him before he could fight it and he fell asleep instantly sprawled in his white sheets.

……………………………………………………

Stiles woke up to the feeling of Derek close by, his familiar brand of misery making Stiles hiss.

"What are you doing here Derek?" he sighed, rolling onto his back to meet Derek's piercing gaze. "You know I want to stab you and yet you show up here over and over again." Stiles sighed.

"Scott thinks you hate him you know?" Derek says apropos nothing. "Why did you vanish from the clinic like that?"

Oh fuck, he fucked up. Sweet little puppy Scott thinks he hates him.

"Because I ruined his life!" Stiles sighs dramatically flopping back onto his bed.

"How'd you ruin bis life?" Derek asked doubtfully.

"Isortamadehisgirlfriendfallinlovewithherbestfriend." Stiles squeezed his eyes shut, hoping Derek would make his death swift and hopefully painless.

"What? Speak English Stiles." Derek stared at him with frighteningly intimidating eyebrows.

"I sorta made his girlfriend fall in love with her best friend." Stiles sighed looking at Derek for his reaction.