Stupid pixies. Stiles thought to himself angrily as his numb fingers fumbled at the rope around his ankles. The rope itself wasn't really the problem here; it was the heavy weight attached to the end of it. Oh, and the fact that Stiles was in ten feet of frigid water. Apparently the pixies hadn't taken too kindly to being called, "The less sparkly version of a fairy." It wasn't the first time Stiles' mouth had gotten him into hot water. Or, cold water, as the case was now. If he couldn't get the waterlogged knots out soon then his mouth would never again have the chance to get him in trouble.

That was probably for the best anyway. It was only a matter of time really before he got someone else killed with his sarcastic words. Wasn't it better to get himself killed than to practically murder another pack member? He was hardly pack anyway. He mostly just dragged everyone down and annoyed them to no end. They'd probably all be happier in the long run if he was gone. They'd probably have been happier to begin with if he had never darkened their lives with his bothersome presence.

Maybe it was the icy pressure of the water trying to push down into his lungs and maybe it was the way the ache for oxygen was quickly turning into a burning need but all Stiles could think about was how good his death would be for the pack. Even with that thought in his mind, he still fought with desperation to keep the water out of his body. Call it a survival instinct or just the stubbornness that seemed to come standard with Stiles but either way he kept holding on to the last dying tendrils of air in his lungs.

When had he stopped trying to undo the knots? He didn't remember shutting his eyes but they were closed so he must have. Why wasn't he breathing? He should be breathing. He took a deep breath in and his burning lungs exploded in pain. Feebly he tried to cough out the water and replace it with air but only more water showed up. He couldn't feel his body anymore. He couldn't feel anything. It was dark and miraculously the pain had ended just as his heart had.

A warm presence filled his mind and he forced his eyes open to see who it was. An unfamiliar woman smiled sadly at him and reached a hand out. Stiles stared at it for a moment and then looked back at the woman. "You're not who I expected to see." He told her.

"I know. You can't see you mother quite yet though. You have to see me before you can continue on to where Claudia waits. My name is Death and honestly, Stiles, I had hoped not to meet you for quite some time." The voice echoed in his head but the lips of the woman – Death apparently – did not move.

Stiles snorted out a quick chuckle before he replied, "Really? I spent my time running around with werewolves and yet you somehow thought I'd manage a long and happy life? I figured Death would be a bit smarter." There goes his mouth again. Even once he was dead it still seemed capable of trying to get him in trouble. He wondered if Death could kill him a second time if he bothered her enough. What would that even be like? Would he become a zombie spirit or something?

"Focus, Stiles. I'm not going to make you a zombie spirit. I couldn't even if I wanted to." Death quirked an eyebrow at him as if she was laughing at his stunned expression. "And I assure you I am quite smart."

"Oh. Well, uh… Sorry? Cool mind reading trick by the way. That seems a bit like cheating but I suppose that Death probably plays by different rules. Honestly though it shouldn't be a surprise that I got myself killed. Getting myself into life threatening situations was pretty much all I was good for anyway. At some point I had to manage to put myself in danger without anyone around to save me. They'd never admit it to me but I think they'll all be happier without me around. They'd have been happiest if I'd never even existed though."

The sad smile crossed Death's face again and for a second time she reached her hand out towards Stiles. "I want to show you something. Will you come with me?"

This time Stiles cautiously took her outstretched hand and suddenly he found himself at Scott's house.

He instantly wanted to leave. He stared in horror at the sight in front of him. The door had been torn off its hinges and thrown halfway across the yard, several windows were broken and claw marks marred the doorframe and Stiles was sure he would find more inside the house. The worst part though – the part that made Stiles want to gouge his own eyes out simply to stop seeing it – was Scott.

He sat on the first step of the porch. By his feet was what Stiles could only assume had once been Melissa. Scott's fingers dripped blood as his eyes leaked tears. He rocked slowly back and forth emitting a high pitched wailing sound from somewhere deep in his chest. Stiles tried to run to Scott but the firm grip Death had on his hand stopped him. Instead he shouted Scott's name. There was no response and in frustration he rounded on Death and demanded to know what had happened.

"Don't worry. This hasn't happened."

"Then why the hell are you showing it to me? Make it go away!"

"This is what would have happened if you had not existed."

Stiles was speechless for a moment. "That's not true. It can't be true. If I hadn't been there to drag Scott to the woods he would never have been bitten. He wouldn't even have been a werewolf."

"You misunderstand Peter's reasons for biting Scott to begin with. He didn't bite Scott because he was convenient. He bit Scott because he wanted Scott specifically. He had been scouting for betas and had already chosen Scott. You bringing him to the woods made it easier for Peter to attack him but the bite would have happened regardless. Then without you to guide him Scott quickly lost control. He never had the chance to find his anchor or to learn how to keep the wolf inside when he was angry. Melissa was an unfortunate casualty. If you had never existed Scott would have gone to jail where he would soon kill another prisoner. The rest of his life would have been spent in solitary confinement for the safety of those around him."

The scene around them faded and Stiles hastily rubbed away the tears that had fallen from his eyes. He had yet to recover when he found himself relocated again. He recognized this part of the woods as Hale property and his heart jumped a little at the thought of Derek.

Derek would certainly be better off with him gone. Derek had always hated him anyway.

Speak of the devil, there was Derek running straight towards him. Stiles flinched as he braced for the impact but Derek ran straight through him without pause. Right. He was dead. Of course Derek wouldn't be able to see or touch him.

Stiles turned to follow Derek but before he could take even a step he heard the sharp crack of a gun. Derek went down with a roar of pain. He had barely even finished falling before Chris Argent stepped out of the shadows leveling a gun at the fallen wolf. Derek glared with cold blue eyes at the hunter but made no move to try and run. None of it was really too surprising to Stiles. Really it's not like the Argents and Derek were ever on good terms. What did surprise him was when Allison walked up behind her father and notched an arrow. It surprised him even more when without warning she released it straight into Derek's head.

Stiles' heart stopped for a moment as he watched the bright blue fade from Derek's eyes and the small trickle of blood that made its way out around the shaft of the arrow. He didn't even realize he was screaming Derek's name until Death started pulling him away from the ghastly sight.

This time she didn't even wait for him to ask, "When Scott killed his mom the Argents decided it was time to bring their daughter into the hunter business. She adopted the same attitudes towards werewolves that her mother and aunt had so she started killing any wolf she found. Without a pack, Derek was an easy target for her. She gets killed by Peter a month from the day she killed Derek."

"I can't possibly make that big of a difference. What about everyone else? Someone must benefit from me never existing. What about my dad?"

"When Claudia died he turned completely to alcohol; he got fired for drinking on the job and now he's living on the streets begging for money which he then uses to buy more whiskey."

Tears stung Stiles' eyes at the very thought. "What about Lydia?"

"With all the deaths in town her powers came out sooner. Her parents had no idea how to handle it and they locked her in a mental health institution."

"Isaac?"

"Killed by his father two weeks into his junior year."

"Erica?"

"Had a seizure while driving and ended up paralyzed in the resulting crash."

"Boyd? Boyd never even liked me. Things have to have been better for him." Stiles desperately hoped for just one person who had turned out okay without him.

"Boyd just kept eating lunch alone. He never fell in love with Erica and he never made any real connections with people."

"But that wasn't because of me. It has nothing to do with me."

"It happened because you weren't there for Scott and Derek when they needed you. That meant that they weren't there for Vernon Boyd when he needed them."

"I get it. I made a difference. You've made your point. I was useful to the pack and it was a good thing I was part of it for the time that I was." Stiles tried to hide the way his voice shook as he spoke. The scenes of Scott and Derek still flashed across his mind and he could almost picture the rest of the pack. He imagined his dad in tattered clothes curled up against a building for protection from the biting wind; the stench of alcohol permeating the air around him. He pictured Lydia in a strait-jacket, Erica in a wheelchair, and Boyd alone in a cafeteria of strangers. For the first time in his life – well, technically death now – Stiles was truly glad he had been a part of the small band of wolves living in Beacon Hills.

Death gave that same sad smile again and told him, "You're still part of their pack. Death does not remove you from your pack. They still need you just as much as they always have."

"Well sucks to be them." Stiles joked bitterly, trying to laugh his way out of the seriousness of the situation. "I can't exactly help them from beyond the grave.

Suddenly Stiles was standing at the edge of the lake he had drowned in. It was surreal seeing it again. When he saw someone burst from the depths of the water hauling his lifeless body to shore Stiles was tempted to hum the Twilight Zone theme song. As the figure got closer Stiles realized it was Derek and a jolt of relief ran through him. Seeing Derek alive and breathing again was a welcome vision after watching Allison murder him. He knew it hadn't actually happened, but it eased his mind all the same to physically see Derek okay.

The closer Derek got though the more Stiles wished he would go away. The look of anguish in his eyes as he dragged Stiles' body through the water was agonizing to see. The wolf's eyes were swimming in tears and Stiles had never seen anyone, especially Derek, look so lost and vulnerable. The second he reached shallow enough water he picked Stiles up and ran with him to solid ground. He dropped to his knees and gently placed the body in front of him. The lost look changed to a look of determination as Derek started CPR – Desperately trying to resuscitate a body that was clearly empty of life.

Words flowed out of Derek's mouth and each one made Stiles ache a little more. "Come on, Stiles. Wake up. Wake the hell up. Please, don't leave. Don't leave me. Don't-" Derek broke off with a sob but he kept valiantly fighting to revive the broken body in front of him.

"What happens to them?" Stiles quietly asked Death. He was hoping she would say they all recovered just fine. That the pack went on without him in time and he eventually faded from their memory.

"They fall apart." Was the answer he got instead. "Derek goes mad with fury and he demolishes the pixies. Lydia blames herself for not being skilled enough with her powers to tell you were dying. Isaac and Scott blame each other for not watching out for you. Your father blames Derek because he's the one who brought your body home and he's the one your father trusted to keep you safe. After you die the pack ceases to exist. They aren't a pack anymore they're enemies at best."

"Why would you show me all this?" Stiles asked with sudden fury. "Did you think it would make me happy to know what happens? It doesn't. Not when this is the result. I never wanted to know any of this."

Death was unperturbed by his anger and she peacefully answered, "I showed you because you needed to see it. You have to know what your loss does to all of the people you love."

"Thanks," He bit out with his usual edge of sarcasm, "now I will hate myself forever for getting myself killed. Now can I just pass on or whatever the hell you want to call it?"

"No."

"No?"

"You have one more thing to see. I want to show you what your future could have been. You need to see what your life would have become if you hadn't died early."

Stiles felt a fresh sob threatening to burst out at any moment. "Great. Just great. One more twist of the knife. Awesome. Go ahead."

There was Derek again. He was smiling this time though and it was almost blinding in its radiance. He was sitting cross legged on the floor as a toddler took a few cautious and wobbly steps towards him. Right behind the little girl was an older looking Stiles with a smile to rival Derek's. He held his hands out ready to catch the child if she started to topple over. Another three tentative steps were taken and then the forces of gravity overcame her and she started to wildly pinwheel her arms as the leaned too far forward.

Derek and Stiles both reached for her at the same time but Stiles reached her first. He picked her up and spun her through the air while she laughed with delight. Derek had stood up to join them and as Stiles stopped spinning around Derek reached out to tickle the child who was already squirming with joy.

The whole scene was everything Stiles had ever wanted and as he stood beside Death and watched the future he would never get he broke. He crumpled to the floor as the full weight of what he would never have hit him. The bubbly little girl, the smiling Derek with a wedding ring on who was kissing older Stiles now that the tickle war had stopped, the bright warm house that felt like home… Stiles would never get any of it. Silent tears trailed down Stiles' cheeks as his heart ached. If he hadn't already been dead, Stiles was certain he would have died right then from the pain in his chest.

Knowing that this is where his life had been headed made it worse. Pretending that Derek hated him – that they had no future together anyway – had been a small comfort to him when he first died. To find out now that this glowing happy family was exactly where he and Derek were going to end up destroyed the final part of Stiles that had been okay with dying.

"None of this changes the fact that I died." He whispered half to himself and half to his watchful companion. "It's too late. I screwed up. I get it. I should have kept fighting to live instead of just quitting. I can't redo it now though so why the hell did you make me suffer more?" Even the last part, though fueled by anger, was said in a hushed voice that revealed nothing but pain.

"Because it's only too late if you want it to be."

The words didn't fully work their way into Stiles' head. He was too busy watching as Derek and the older Stiles laced their hands together and Derek took the smiling child in his free arm. They left the room and as the light went off Stiles felt pain bloom fresh across his chest.

This pain was different though. It felt physical instead of the burning emotional anguish he had been feeling before. He looked around in confusion for the source but saw nothing. He was surrounded by darkness and even Death seemed to be gone.

"Wait!" Stiles screamed into the darkness. "You're supposed to take me with you! Not just leave me wherever the hell this is! Come back!"

"Come back!" echoed back to him. It wasn't his voice though. "God damn it, Stiles wake up!"

There was that pressure on his chest again. Was that air filling his lungs? Couldn't be. Stiles looked around again for Death. There was a part of the surrounding darkness that was somehow darker than the rest and Stiles was suddenly certain he would find Death there.

"Don't leave me, Stiles! Don't you dare leave me!"

Something sparked in Stiles. The drive to fight reignited and instead of walking after Death he resolutely took a step in the opposite direction. The pain increased in his chest and this time he was certain he could feel breath being forced into his lungs.

He took another step. His entire body started to ache and his lungs burned at the intrusion of air where there was no space.

Another step and his lungs heaved violently as his eyes flew open. He had just enough time to register Derek beside him before he was coughing and spitting up all the water his lungs had welcomed in.

A reassuring hand rubbed soothingly across his back as his body heaved again and again trying to expel all the liquid. When the retching finally subsided his body turned to tremors that shook his whole frame. He was cold. He was very, very cold. His clothes clung to him and the steady drips raining down all around him reminded him that he was still soaked.

Then strong arms were wrapping around him and pulling him up against a warm chest. Derek's voice in his ear murmured, "You're okay, Stiles. You're safe. You're alive. I'm never going to let you get hurt again."