Hey guys! This is a little tag to Weaponized, which is the seventh episode in season 4. Go watch it or it won't make sense.

Also, I named "The Chemist" Mr. Davidson, JSYK.

I'm prewriting a lot ATM, one is Austin and Ally, and the other was originally a one shot requested by a guest that is now a full blown story, plus random one shots like this that was written in 24 hours, so that's why my updates haven't been consistent. Sorry.

And now, on with the story!

Stiles was terrified. His best friends had just been dying in a cellar, he was sick with some wolf plague that was slowly making it harder and harder to focus, his girlfriend just found out a maniac was her father, and on top of that, he just had a gun held to his head.

"Stiles." Scott broke him out of his thoughts by shaking his shoulder. "Come on, we need to get upstairs. Our parents are gonna freak out if they can't find us."

Stiles stood up slowly, his legs shaking under him as he balled the deadpool in his fist, clearly upset that he may have just lost Malia over it before following Scott and Kira out of the vault and into the basement of the school and after going up stairs and leaving rooms, they finally got back to the entrance where Kira immediately hugged her Dad.

The Sheriff felt a wave of relief wash over him when he saw Stiles alive, especially after the chilling details he had been given from Raphael, and went to hug his son, but then noticed he was still pale, sweaty, and had a rash creeping up his wrist. Not to mention soaked in a assassin's blood, translating to the fact he was still sick and most likely traumatized as well.

"Stiles? I think we need to get you checked out." He insisted, pushing the hair out of his face, and Stiles finally looked him dead in the eyes, whimpering like a puppy before sliding against the wall to the floor.

"Sheriff? What's going on?" Natalie asked, looking the seventeen year old up and down. "Is he still sick?"

"Yeah. Can you go get a doctor please?" Noah asked, before feeling a loose grasp on his wrist and a hoarse voice pleading.

"I-I'm fine, Dad. Don't w-waste more m-money on me."

"Stiles, it's fine. The insurance will most likely pay for this, and if they don't, the school probably will cause they hired a assassin. So can you please just let me handle it for once?"

Stiles nodded, letting his head fall to the side while Noah sighed, seeing the trauma that would unfold in the following months from some asshole wanting to make everyone sick and kill off every supernatural being in the school.

"Sheriff. Let us take care of your son, alright?" Doctor Wentz brought him out of his thoughts, before kneeling down beside Stiles. "Hey, Stiles. Can you hear me?"

The response was the teen muttering something very disturbing, but sadly, very reasonable as well. "I taste blood...i-it's everywhere."

"We'll get you cleaned up and into some different clothes. Do you think you can walk?"

The seventeen year old shook his head, and he was soon being lifted into his Father's arms, who was panicked at the fact his son was so light, but he would have to talk to him about that later. He took him up the stairs to where the quarantine had taken place so they could clean him up and ask him about the assassin while they waited for an ambulance.

"Stiles? Wanna tell us what happened?" Noah asked as Doctor Wentz gently wiped his face clear of all the blood and brain matter from the assassin.

"I w-was scared." Stiles refused to look at either of them, and instead fidgeted with his fingers. "I t-thought Kira, s-Scott and m-Malia weren't g-gonna make it...e-everything is hard t-to focus on a-and I h-had a gun held t-to my h-head. S-so no, I'm n-not fine. S-sorry that's a s-shocker to y-you."

Noah wanted to screw the entire investigation and ruin the evidence just to give him a hug and take him home. Instead, he had to continue watching doctors poke and prod at his son.

Stiles himself was numb, watching as doctors took blood samples, pulled his jacket and shirt off of him, replacing it with a hospital gown, checked his temperature and hooked him up to a IV, but the worst part was the fact his Dad was having to question him about the fact he had almost lost his life, which the teen knew was breaking him.

"You can take him home. He's still got a fever, but he just needs to sleep it off. The rash should fade within a few hours. If there re any complications, take him to the ER immediately."

"Thank you, Doctor Wentz."

"No problem, Sheriff." The doctor started unhooking Stiles from the medical equipment. "We'll have his shirt and jacket returned after we run tests on it so we can prevent another outbreak of this variant of smallpox."

Noah nodded, before gently laying his hand on Stiles' shoulder. "Hey, kiddo. We're gonna go home, alright?"

Stiles nodded, letting his dad hold his hand as he stood up due to the fact he was still a bit disoriented before leading him outside and to the police cruiser. He sat in the passenger seat and laid his head against the cool window, shivering in the thin gown he was still wearing. He started to fall asleep as the quiet hum of the car started to calm him down, then he felt his Dad's jacket laid over him, and that's when he finally drifted off into darkness.

At least, that's what he thought.

He stumbled out of the principal's office with Mr. Davidson behind him,holding a gun to his back while trying to convince him to tell him where Malia, Scott and Kira were. "Still a bit feverish, Mr. Stilinski. But you should know something, the virus doesn't kill humans, you'll get better. So don't you think you should tell me where they are? Shouldn't one of you get to live?"

"I think I saw them in the library. Or it might've been the cafeteria. It was definitely one of those two." Stiles stuttered, trying to pass it off as truth, but the assassin was not buying it.

"I'm going to count to three, and then I'm going to kill you."

"Think you can scare me?" The teen asked, turning to face him, which the response he got was a gun clicking.

"No, I think I can kill you. I just thought the countdown would make it more exciting. So One." He placed the gun on his head. "Two." He added with more anger, and Stiles accepted his fate, closing his eyes as he shook.

Then a gun sounded.

Noah had just pulled into the driveway to their house when he looked over and seeing Stiles gripping on the arm rest while shaking. He leaned over, placing his hand on his son's shoulder, gently shaking him while saying. "Stiles, it's okay."

Then a ear piercing scream rang out as Stiles awoke, panting and trying to get away from what was restricting him. In this case, it was his seatbelt.

"Stiles, Stiles, hey. I'm right here."

Stiles stopped shaking when he saw his Dad, looking at him with a calm yet concerned face, which almost had him break down right then and there, but instead, he held his composure as his father unbuckled his seatbelt, exited the car, came around, and helped Stiles out. "Let's get you to bed. You've had a long day and you're still sick."

The teen was too tired to fight as he let his Dad lead him to the large room and pull out the grey Adidas shirt that Stiles often stole from him far too often and some slightly baggy pants

Stiles shrugged off the jacket and took off the gown and pants before sliding into the pajamas.

"Get in bed. I'm gonna go find the thermometer." Noah told him, but Stiles protested, still not ready to be alone.

"D-don't leave. P-please."

"Alright." Noah smiled softly, feeling his heart melt when he saw how young Stiles looked, and he coaxed his son under the blankets. "Get some sleep, bud. I'm gonna stay here the whole time."

Stiles nodded, starting to lay down, but sat straight up. Luckily, the sheriff was prepared as he pulled out Stiles' pillow, laying it down in place of the extra ones. The teen laid down fully, falling asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, finally bringing the sheriff to ease.

He was gonna be okay.