Scott walked up to where Stiles was asleep, in a sleeping bag, on the floor. The vampire actually looked dead, completely silent and motionless, and it was a little bit scary for Scott to see. He knew, on an intellectual level, that Stiles was fine, but it still scared the shit out of him at first glance.

Quietly, he bent over before gently tapping his sleeping friend's shoulder in an attempt to wake him.

"Stiles," he called.

In a flash, he found himself pinned against the door, Stiles' hands grasping tightly at his wrists. He flinched slightly as the other hissed at him with fangs bared.

Instinctively, Scott flashed red eyes at the vampire before saying his name again in what Stiles called his "alpha voice."

This seemed to cause Stiles to come back to his senses, fangs retracting as he released the werewolf's wrists and stepped back.

Stiles shook his head and rubbed his eyes as he stepped back, trying to both wake himself up and come back to reality.

"Sorry. You uh...startled me," Stiles said, still not looking Scott in the eye. As a human, when startled, he would flinch or maybe even scream in extreme cases. It never caused him to attack anyone.

Scott cleared his throat.

"It's okay. I know you're still getting used to everything," Scott said.

With that, Stiles looked up, allowing Scott to see the pained expression in his eyes.

"It's not okay, Scott. I️ really could've hurt you," Stiles replied, horrified as he spoke. He never wanted to hurt anyone, and he especially didn't want to hurt Scott.

The scariest part for Stiles is that he wasn't quite sure what he would've done. He wasn't really planning to do anything, but he hadn't planned to pin Scott against the door either; it just sort of happened. How was he supposed to know what he was capable of if he literally couldn't control his own actions anymore?

The way in which Scott's heartbeat began to slow down to its normal pace did provide some comfort, but it wasn't quite enough to calm Stiles down completely.

"Stiles, hey, look at me," Scott said.

Stiles simply shook his head, continuing to look down at his face.

"Look at me," Scott repeated.

With some hesitation, Stiles looked up and into the alpha's eyes.

"I'm fine, okay? Everything's going to be fine. I️ know you didn't mean to," Scott reassured.

Stiles shook his head.

"But that's the thing, Scott. I️ didn't mean to. I️ didn't even think about it. It just happened. I️ can't control myself," he explained.

Scott sighed.

"Listen, when I️ first became a wolf, I️ had trouble controlling myself too, but I️ learned over time. We're gonna get through this, okay?" Scott said.

Stiles nodded. A part of him wanted to explain to Scott that it just wasn't the same. It's not like when Scott turned everyone around him was suddenly made of food to him. But it didn't matter. He knew his best friend, and he knew that he wouldn't give up on him regardless. He knew that he would always try to understand even if he simply couldn't. Besides, there was still a part of Stiles that just desperately wanted to conceal some part of the monster that he'd become as much as he could.

"Yeah, okay," Stiles replied, and that was the end of it. After everything he was too tired to argue with Scott, and he knew it was pointless anyhow.

After calming down a bit from the incident of attacking Scott, he started to become more aware of the light. Slowly, he turned around toward the direction of the window, only to be startled by how blinding the sun was. Involuntarily, he hissed, baring fangs, before using his arm to shield his eyes from the light briefly. He then rushed over to the window in a flash, shutting the curtain.

He then turned back around to see Scott staring at him.

"What?" Stiles asked.

Scott clicked his tongue, trying to place the words.

"It's just...look, don't take this the wrong way, but you are gonna have to try to act human before you can go back to school and everything," Scott said, hoping he didn't hit a sore spot for the other.

Stiles nodded pensively. Again, he hadn't really noticed his own inhuman behavior, he'd just done it.

"Right, so no attacking people, no hissing at the sun, and no super speed?" Stiles asked, trying to remain lighthearted about the whole thing despite how much he secretly detested how deeply embedded his new vampiric instincts were into him.

"And no fangs," Scott added unhelpfully.

"No fangs. Got it," Stiles said. He hated his fangs anyway but decided that that wasn't worth mentioning aloud.

Following that conversation, much of the day was spent with Stiles both trying to act as normal as possible, trying not to react to all of the things that his new heightened senses picked up on. He also spent a lot of his energy trying his best not to bite his best friend, which became increasingly difficult as he grew hungrier but was still trying to ration the remaining blood bags.

That was until he decided to rip the bandaid off and go to his dad's house. Scott asked him about a million times if he was sure, but he decided that it was best to just get it over with and also to go while he knew his dad was still at work and therefore wouldn't be home.

Scott insisted on accompanying him, probably worried that he might lose control and attack someone on the way there. Either way, it was probably for the best as Stiles didn't want to ask Scott, but he really didn't want to go alone to what was probably the biggest reminder of the life he'd just lost.

When he got there, it was as if there was a barrier preventing him from entering. He found himself frozen, staring at the door. He felt strange and out of place, knowing that the place he'd grown up in, the one that held so many memories, was no longer a home.

He was brought back to the present by the feeling of a warm hand gently touching his shoulder.

"You need a minute?" Scott asked.

Stiles shook his head.

"No, I'm good," he replied, beginning to fish for his keys in his pockets.

Once he got hold of them, he stepped toward the door before putting the key in the lock and twisting it.

After shaking the trippy feeling he got from actually entering his old house, he began to gather the essentials: some clothes, his toothbrush, school books, etc. He carried them to the jeep in silence.

It was when Stiles twisted his car key into the ignition and began to back out of the driveway that it felt official: the old Stiles was dead, and it was time to start a new life.