Scott McCall casually leaned against the door frame of his grandchildren's room, clutching a worn, leather-bound book in his rough hands. His dark brown eyes sparkled and his crow's feet bunched together slightly as he looked at the two perfect beings in front of him. Scott lived for moments like these.
"Okay kiddies, who wants to hear the next chapter of Great Uncle Stiles' adventure?" Scott asked in a fake gruff voice as he wiggled the book in the air. He gimped toward the kids, shoulders hunched, and plopped down in the rocking chair between their beds. He loved when his grandkids came to visit; goofing off had always been, after all, his specialty. Even though he was over 60 now, he was still just a big kid himself.
Tasha, the youngest at six years old, quickly shot up off her pillow and clasped desperately onto her grandfather's arm. "I do, Pop Pop, I do" she squealed, her dark eyes glowing with excitement.
"Yeah Pops! It was starting to get really good last time…then you stopped," Lowell fake pouted, his dark wavy hair dangling over his chocolate brown eyes as he hung almost completely off his bed, trying to get a glimpse of his grandfather's treasured story book. Lowell was nine now and such a good kid. Scott wished Stiles was still around to see it; they would have had a blast together. Scott had been writing the adventures of their lives, collected in this one book, and planned to keep filling it with more. He knew he'd pass the book on to Lowell and Tasha so they could read the tales to their own children.
Scott gave his finger a dry lick and flipped to where a photo was being used as a book mark. Scott pulled the picture out and ran his fingers across aged, glossy paper. Looking back at him were a teenage Scott and Stiles, arms around each other's shoulders and smiling like idiots. The older man took a slow breath through his nose, letting it out with a quiet sigh. He put on a playful face for the kids so as not to ruin the mood with his heartache. "I really needed to find a new book mark," he thought.
"Well, Lowell, it was getting late last time and you both had school the next day. What kind of adult would I be if I let you sleep in and skip school?" he asked rhetorically.
"The best kind," Lowell answered wistfully.
Scott threw his head back and enjoyed a full belly laugh at his grandson's honesty. "Those would have been my exact thoughts at your age" he said, continuing to chuckle. "Okay, so where exactly were we? Do you need a refresher?" the old wolf asked as he flipped pages.
"Uncle Isaac just showed up to find you and Uncle Stiles and help Uncle Derek, 'cause he was kidnapped by Alpacas and they poisoned him" Tasha hastily stated with conviction.
Unable to resist correcting her, as big brothers often do, Lowell rudely jumped in. "It was a pack of Alphas, not Alpacas! And they 't poison him, one of the Argents men double-crossed Derek after helping him kill the Alphas, remember?" The young boys eyes flashed a golden yellow color as he seethed at the audacity of that no good werewolf hunter. They were supposed to follow the code to protect humans, not murder wolves.
" Hmm...and we were justgetting to the good stuff you say?" the older man razzed, bringing a blush to the boys round cheeks. "Let's see here...oh yes, here we go" Scott began, pulling out his reading glasses and locating the passage he had last ended with. He leaned forward, glancing back and forth between the two expectant kids and speaking in a hushed voice. "Well, you see, Stiles and I were looking for important research that could possibly save your Uncle when suddenly there was a tapping on the window..." he began as the kids' eyes widened with anticipation.
Isaac quickly made his way up the Stilinski driveway, leaves and pebbles crunching under his feet; every sound was amplified when he was wolfed out. The agile teen gracefully scaled the side of the two-story house and crept his way over to the gable window which was emitting a soft yellow light. Isaac placed a clawed hand on the pane of glass, his feet placed precariously on the edge of the rooftop. Isaac spotted the teens he was searching for, hoping against hope that they had found Stiles' research on wolfsbane. Isaac rapped his claws against the glass. Spotting the yellow eyes of his fellow Beta, Scott made his way over to the window and flung it open with ease.
"Did you find anything yet? We don't have much time" Isaac blurted out, letting some of his worry seep out onto his delicate features. If they didn't get back to Derek with the correct antidote, his Alpha was as good as dead.
Scott could see the worry etched in the lines of Isaac's forehead and placed a reassuring hand on the young wolf's shoulder. Although Derek and Scott were not close, he didn't want to see him dead.
"Don't worry, we'll find it okay. We're going to save him!" Scott reassured while squeezing his hand a little tighter, seemingly reading Issac's mind.
Both teen wolves were startled as Stiles suddenly began shouting, flailing the air with a piece of paper. The quiet moment obliterated, they shot their heads up in unison to see a frantic Stiles charging across the room and digging around in his desk drawer.
"THIS IS IT, THIS IS IT! I found it! I know what to do!" Stiles shouted, his voice faded in and out as he stormed back and forth between the desk and the bathroom.
"Isaac, you said you saw the wolfsbane the Argents were using, right? Was it a bright yellow flower with a bulbous center?" Stiles demanded impatiently.
"Yes it..."
"Pop Pop, what's bulbous?" Tasha sweetly interrupted, Lowell's eyes almost rolled eyes completely out of his head.
"Umm, it's when something is sort of oversized and round," he explained.
"Oh...doesn't Grammy have flowers in the yard that look like that too? Is that why we can't play in the back garden?" she questioned with gentle eyes.
" That's right, sweetie. Wolfsbane can't hurt her, so she is in charge of growing it to help the whole family: wolves andhunters," Scott told the little girl.
"Oh…okay," she nodded in understanding before allowing the story to continue
Stiles pulled a small plastic bag of yellowish orange powder out of his pocket, flicking it with his middle finger.
"This should solve all our problems...or kill Derek. It's a fifty-fifty shot," Stiles deadpanned. Scott gave him a shocked "what the hell" sort of look. "What!? It's not like I have a ton of willing werewolf volunteers for my evil aconite experiments, Scott," Stiles justified. "Let's just go, okay, before Derek's skin melts off or something" he said, mostly joking. Isaac whipped his head around and stared at Stiles with something akin to panic. The lanky teen spun on his heels and gripped the window sill, jumping through head first and landing effortlessly on his Chuck Taylors. Scott and Stiles ran through the house, meeting him at the front door albeit with far less flare. The three teens piled into the trusty blue jeep that Stiles referred to only as "his baby". Putting it in gear, he drove off quickly toward the ruined Hale estate where Derek was waiting for a miracle.
"Pops, what happened to Uncle Stiles' Jeep? I haven't seen it since I was real little," Lowell asked
"Umm, I think Derek probably still has it stored away in his garage. I don't think he could bear to sell it, especially after your Uncle's heart attack." Scott wouldn't have let him anyway: too many great memories in that death trap.
"Do you think I could drive it someday, when I'm older?" Lowell asked hopefully.
"That's up to Uncle Derek. It probably needs a lot of work. Maybe that is something you guys can do together," Scott offered. A small smile played across the boy's face as if he quite liked the idea of learning how to fix a car: and with Uncle Derek, who was just the "coolest".
"I hope Uncle Derek makes it" Tasha said, sleep heavy in her voice.
"Of course he made it. We just had dinner with him last week, Tasha!" Lowell loudly whispered.
"Oh yeah," she replied, barely able to get the words out before her eyes closed.
"Can you finish Pops?" the boy pleaded quietly.
Stiles drove at nauseating speeds, making some questionable driving maneuvers his father, the Sheriff of Beacon Hills, would have cringed at. He tore through the S-curves of the dark, narrow, forest roads leading to the entrance of the Hale property. Stiles banged a hard right, nearly fish-tailing into a large oak tree while the tires whipped rocks and other debris in all directions. The teen driver's heart was racing; he was certain that both Scott and Isaac could hear the blood rushing through his veins. "Hold on tight, guys," the short-haired teen warned. "We're coming in fast!" Slamming both feet on the brakes, he brought the two-ton vehicle to a skidding halt about six inches from the porch stairs.
"Holy crap, Stiles! Coming in fast? We almost drove through the front door!" Scott screamed dramatically, hands still clutching his chest.
"You should have buckled in, buddy…it saves lives!"
Climbing out of the jeep, Isaac, legs still quivering, led the way into the dilapidated house where Derek was slowly dying. "He's through that door," Isaac directed Stiles with a long pointed finger. "It was the only part of the main house that still had a full ceiling left."
"You two stay out here. This might not work and I have no idea what it will do to wolves who haven't been infected with the roots poison. It's better to be safe than sorry" Stiles turned and began walking toward the room. Scott, however, grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks.
"No, Stiles, I...I don't want you to go in there alone. What if something happens? What if it doesn't work? What if you get killed?" Scott asked, fear dripping from his voice.
" Scott, we can't play the "what-if" game. Yes, if I give him this antidote he could die. But if I don't, he willdie. We can't waste time waiting around for a second opinion. There's no more research, we're out of time, and so is Derek. Please, you have to trust me. We need to do this now!" Stiles was breathing heavy, his gaze fierce and leaving no room for arguments.
Scott sighed, breaking his gaze and releasing Stiles' arm. Stiles took off toward the room Isaac pointed out. Listening carefully for any sign of life in the dark, dank room, he cautiously stepped forward toward the sounds of labored breathing coming from the left corner of the room.
"Derek...Derek, it's Stiles. I…I think I have something that can help you. Please don't eat me!" Stiles approached the Alpha painstakingly slowly. Hearing no response, Stiles got to his knee next to Derek's leg. Derek looked dead; only his faint, raspy breathing convinced Stiles that he wasn't too late. Pulling the packet of homemade powder and a small vile of water from his pocket, he began to make a paste in the palm of his hand. As his eyes fully adjusted to the darkness, he spotted the wolfsbane-laced arrow head sticking in Derek's side.
"Sorry man, this is going to suck," Stiles said out loud before unceremoniously ripping the arrow out of Derek's flesh with one hand and stuffing the yellow paste into the gaping wound with the other. Stiles worked the paste in the gash with his fingertips, needing to make sure that the antidote absorbed completely. Derek jolted from his spot in the corner as if struck by electricity, his howl loud and deep enough to shake the very foundations of the ruined house. His fangs elongated and his eyes blazed red, every muscle tensing as he grabbed at Stiles shirt.
"Stiles, I am going to kill..." Derek exclaimed through gritted teeth before passing out completely from the pain.
" Always with the death threats…thank youwould be just fine!" Stiles retorted to the still body in front of him. "Next time, I..." the teen was cut off by Scott's entrance.
"Pops? I thought Uncle Stiles and Uncle Derek were friends. They even lived together for a while, right? How come in all these stories they are always fighting?" the boy asked curiously.
Scott had to laugh at the truth of Lowell's observation; no one aggravated Derek quite like Stiles. "Well, it takes a long time for people to trust each other. Stiles and Derek took longer than most, but once they realized how much they could count on one another, they never looked back."
"Is that why Uncle Derek is still so sad?" the boy blurted out.
"I think it could be. Derek has lost a lot of family and Stiles was very important to all of us. We all miss him, son," Scott confessed. "Shall I finish?" Scott quickly asked, not wanting to dwell. Lowell tipped his head quietly in response
"Stiles, are you okay?" Scott shouted as he and Isaac burst through the door.
" I'm fine man, I'm fine. I think the paste may have stung a little," Stiles said with sly but relieved smirk. He could already see the black webs of poison that were overtaking the veins begin to recede from the Alpha's body as black ooze began to seep from Derek's pores. Smiles crept across the faces of the two strung-out wolves. They all slumped to the floor in an effort to catch their breath. If the night they almost had to kill Jackson had been the night from hell, then tonight must have been the 7thlayer of damnation where Satan himself resided.
"I know we aren't completely out of the woods yet, but I think I have earned some curly fries. I haven't eaten since this whole fight started!" Stiles complained.
"Only you would think of food right now" Scott teased, his eyes still closed.
"Hey! I'm a growing boy and you wolves are giving me a workout. Who needs the gym when I have all of your shenanigans to deal with, McCall?" Stiles ribbed back.
Isaac turned his head to regard the only human in the room. "Thank you, Stiles. Derek would be dead without you."
"I am glad I could help tonight, even though Derek and I are not big fans of each other...I think we have all lost enough people in our lives." Stiles and Isaac shared a look that only kids who had lost a parent could understand. "Besides, if Derek died, I wouldn't be able to lord it over his head that I am winning the "lifesaving" game. He hasn't had to save me in a good long while...Stiles one million, Derek six.! he joked, trying to lighten the mood.
The boys shared a laugh and waited patiently for Derek to rise from his coma. Seeing Derek's eyes begin to flutter with consciousness, Stiles declared, to manyeye rolls, "Curly fries for everyone!"
"…and that's it, kids. The end of another adventure!" Scott said as he closed his journal. Tasha had been asleep for a while now, but Lowell remained gripped until the end.
"Wow grandpa! I hope I can grow up and be as awesome as you and Uncle Stiles. Then maybe I wouldn't get picked on so much," Lowell said as he stared pensively at the ceiling.
Scott let out a big sigh before he addressed his grandson. "Do you know what Uncle Stiles was always best at? What kept him going through the hard times?" Scott asked his grandson.
"No Pops, what?" Lowell asked, looking at the old wolf as if his next words might unlock all the mysteries of the universe.
" He always made the best out of what life handed him. He lost his mother at a very young age, he wasn't popular, and he got picked on a lot too. Stiles never make excuses, though. He never let anything stop him from doing what he knew was right and he never used those struggles as an excuse to treat others badly. That'swhat made him brave, son. That'swhat made him honorable." Scott held his grandson's stare until he was sure the message had sunk in. "You make me proud everyday, Lowell. You remind me so much of him and I know he would be proud of you too. You're growing into such a smart young man...too smart," Scott teased, his eyes shining a bit as he tried not to tear up: always the sensitive one, Scott was.
Placing a kiss on both his grandkid's heads, he walked to the door and flicked off the light. "Good night, kids. Have pleasant dreams and I'll make pancakes in the morning," Scott promised.
"'Night Pops. I love you!" Lowell said "I love you too, Uncle Stiles," he added, so quietly Scott's keen hearing nearly missed it.
Taking a staggered breath, Scott made his way down the hall to the room he shared with his wife Allison. Telling those stories was hard, but important. They helped him remember that a little piece of his dear friend lived in every one of his family members and that each one helped fill the hole in his heart left behind by Stiles.