“Just — just give him a few.” You insisted as you and Scott waited outside Deaton’s clinic for Stiles to arrive. You tried to get as much shelter as you could under the small bit of awning that hung over the building to avoid the rain.

He said he was on his way a while ago, but he still wasn’t here. It was unusual, especially for Stiles.

The clock ticked, and you had both almost come to the conclusion that Stiles, surprisingly, turned out to be a no show. But you knew him better than that. And you couldn’t shake the feeling there was something more to his odd lack of punctuality.

So, after convincing Scott to wait a little longer, the instantly recognisable Jeep pulled up in the parking lot outside the clinic, and out hopped Stiles, apologising for the delay and explaining how he’d had trouble getting the Jeep started.

He would’ve continued, but he was cut short by Scott, the three simple words which left his lips causing a heavy silence to fall amongst the three of you.

“You killed Donovan?” Suddenly, it all clicked to you. That would have explained why Stiles had been so off recently. So paranoid and fidgety.

“You think I had a choice?” Stiles replied, raindrops trickling down his face as he attempted to defend himself from the disappointment evident in Scott’s facial expression and tone. “Some of us have to make mistakes, some of us are human!”

It wasn’t easy to witness.