Authors note: This story takes place before the start of Teen Wolf season 3. Stiles knows that Derek is a werewolf, Sheriff Stilinski still thinks that his son is weird.

Day 1

Stiles opened the front door of his house quietly, trying desperately to not make a sound, but like many things in his life: it didn't work out the way he wanted it to. The creaked loudly and when he had closed the door and turned around, he knocked over the umbrella stand, sending it sprawling. "Perfect," he said under his breath and then heard a tired voice come from the dining room, "That you, Stiles?" He heard tiredness in that voice and sighed; his father had been working overtime for the past week, trying to track down this guy that had decided to blow up a part of a bar downtown.

Stiles walked into the kitchen and as his father looked up and smiled tiredly at his son, Stiles went behind him and hugged his father around the shoulder. "You're gonna work the color out of your hair, you know," he said and his father chuckled and shook his head. "Someone's gotta go it," he said and Stiles rolled his eyes and leant up, walking over to the fridge and pulling out a pitcher of water for his father. "Stiles," his father said and he turned around, "Whiskey." He looked at his father for a moment and with tight lips, he put the pitcher of water back into the fridge and opened a cupboard above the kitchen counter, extracting a bottle of Jack Daniels.

"Just one," he said as he sat down at the dining table and pour his father a measure of the amber liquid. His father raised an eyebrow at him, but nodded and downed the liquid. "So what are we looking for?" Stiles asked and his father pointed at him. "YOU are not looking for anything," he said and then put a finger to his own chest, "I on the other hand, am looking for some evidence of what this lunatic used to put a crater in my favorite bar." Stiles smiled and his father chuckled before setting down his glass and looking at his son. "Another, barkeep," he said and Stiles narrowed his eyes, but allowed one more measure of whiskey.

"So tell me what we've got so far," Stiles said and glanced down at the evidence on the table. "Mmph-" his father said, swallowing the drink, "We know that it was a homemade explosive, but we don't know if he was targeting someone or if it was a misfire." Stiles looked at the evidence, sifting through the images and processing everything he saw. "It… Kinda looks like a misfire actually," he said after a moment and his father looked at him. "What makes you say that?" he asked and Stiles showed him a picture of the overall scene. "Here, see," Stiles said, pointing to the point where the explosive would have gone off, "It didn't do any damage right? And it wasn't aimed at any of the retaining walls or foundation. So it was most probably faulty and the guy that made it must've been walking past the bar when it went off."

Stiles' father looked at his son with a small smile and shook his head. "You know, Stiles, you should be a detective," he said and put a hand on his son's shoulder, "You'd do great." Stiles smiled and was going to respond when his father's phone rang.

"Sheriff Stilinski," his father said, answering the phone and a frown began to crease his face. "What d'you mean… But I thought… Isn't there any other way? …I understand… No, let me, I'm a friend of his. Thank you, goodnight."

"Dad?" Stiles said questioningly and his father sighed and put his fingers on his forehead, motioning to the glass. Stiles poured another measure, but this time, his father just swirled it around in his glass. "What happened?" Stiles asked evenly and his father shook his head slowly and downed the liquid. "Derek," he said and Stiles' heart froze a little. Oh, god no, he thought but instead said, "What happened?" "You know, obviously you know, that he's been staying up in the Hale Manor, right?" his father continued and Stiles nodded, "Well, the county is taking the house back and the police are in charge of evicting him from the premises."

Stiles just stared at his father. "Dad…" Stiles said slowly, "Dad, Derek doesn't have anywhere to go. That place is his home." His father closed his eyes and sat back in his chair. "I know, Stiles. But the law…" "Screw the law!" Stiles said sharply, "Dad that's a man's home, alright! He doesn't have anyone to go to!" His father admired the front Stiles was putting on and then thought of something. "Well, he has me," his father said and Stiles stopped. "What?" Stiles inquired and his father sighed.

"When the Hale's still lived in that house, our families were friends. The Hale's were a well known, respected family. They were good people," his father said, "But a few weeks before the fire took them, Derek's mother came to us and asked my father and mother, your grandparents, that if anything were to happen to them, for them to take care of Derek and his sister. Two weeks later, I got a report over the radio that the Hale Manor was burning to the ground."

Stiles sat back and looked at his father. "I didn't know…" "That we were friends?" his father said and smiled, "Derek wouldn't remember me, they sent his sister and him away to study when they were young." Stiles nodded and sighed. "So we're going to help him?" His father nodded and smiled at his son, "I hope you don't mind, Stiles. I just owe it to his family and to him." Stiles leaned forward and put a hand on his father's arm. "I don't mind at all," he said and stood up, "I'm tired, gonna sleep." His father nodded and as Stiles was exiting the room, he said, "Thanks for the help on the case." Stiles saluted him and smiled before he practically flew up the stairs to his room and shut the room.

Derek Hale was going to stay in his house. In the Stilinski residence.

Stiles walked over to his bed and took out the journal that he kept under his mattress and sat on the bed.

Journal Dude,

I'm royally screwed.