“There’s–always been something wrong, I think. Or maybe it just started in middle school. I don’t know.” That was when he’d started noticing, at least. He already knew he was different, wasn’t human. Had to keep track of what everyone else was doing anyway so he could fake it, if he had to. He just didn’t know what to do when he realized he was faking something his sisters hadn’t had to. “I just know I’m not–haven’t ever–wanted. People. Like that.”
“What? It’s totally an improvement. He’s not scowling, or dating bad guys, or slinking around in unsanitary places. Still a bit paranoid, but what can you do. At least he’s a lot easier to get along with when you can buy his affections with ear rubs.”
“And you always wanted a dog,” Sheriff added wryly.
“And I always wanted a dog.”
“We have received confirmation that there is a hostage situation in progress at a warehouse compound two hours out of Los Angeles, following a multiple-vehicle pileup on Highway 101 this morning…”
The one in which Stiles has lived to (legal) adulthood and, along the way, become a bit of a badass himself.