AN: So this was just a little something I was playing around with in my head that I decided to write down. I love the idea that Stiles could be a Winchester so I really wanted to do something with that. This fic takes place after 3b but Allison didn't die and Isaac didn't leave., and sometime after season 11 for supernatural or something. I'm not going to be to specific there and just leave it up to you guys to decide when.
It was odd really, how one day can change so much in one's life. The day had started out normal though. Stiles had woken up, eaten quickly, and driven to school in his old jeep, which probably needed a tune up or an oil change. He'd met up with Scott and Kira outside homeroom and chatted for a few minutes before the bell rang. First period had gone just as smoothly as it could for the hyperactive teen, only getting one warning to pay attention and to stop jiggling his leg so much. Second and third were much the same, with lunch being a nice affair where he ate at a table with the pack, Scott, Kira, Isaac, Allison, and Malia. Lydia had decided not to eat with them as they weren't actually in the same social circles. But then came forth period.
Fourth period was Eco with Couch, or rather, Mr. Finstock. Stiles didn't particularly like the class, as Couch had called him Balinski for two years straight, despite having told him numerous times that wasn't his name. Also, the man never took him or Scott seriously in class, not that he didn't have good reason to though. The two were always goofing off or just being idiots. But today was different.
The class had started off the same, with roll call, and then a lecture about trade and capitalism globally. Nothing interesting for Stiles. Then a knock came from the door, and Stiles recognized the head that poked through. It was Deputy Jordan Parrish. Why would he be at the school? Stiles frowned in confusion.
Finstock, noticing the deputies' presence, stopped the lecture, and went over to talk to the man. The two exchanged a few words that Stiles couldn't here from where he sat, but seemed important. When Parrish was finished, Couch nodded and turned back to the class.
"Stalinski," he started, startling the teen.
"M-me?" Stiles asked, pointing towards himself in surprise.
"Yeah, get out there." He waved vaguely towards the door. Confused, Stiles got up and walked towards where Parrish was apparently waiting for him at the door. Parrish closed the door after him and then stood still, worrying his lip.
"Stiles," he started slowly, his eyes not meeting the confused gaze of the teenager. "I uh, I don't know how to say this…" his voice trailed off. But Stiles got the message. If the look on the Deputies face was anything to go by, whatever had happened concerned Stiles, and it wasn't good. But most cases if it concerned Stiles and the law, it would be his father standing in front of him, not the deputy. But because it wasn't his father, it could only mean one thing…
"No," Stiles breathed. It came out as a rough whisper though. Parrish could only give him a look of pure sympathy. No, no it wasn't true. It couldn't be. "No!" He said, feeling panic tighten in his chest. His breathing became more rapid as he prayed what Jordan was telling him wasn't true. "You can't be- that's not- you can't-" Stiles tried to get the words out, but his throat was closing up fast and tears were starting to burn in his eyes.
"I'm so sorry Stiles," Parrish managed, clearly in pain as well. "He's gone. I'm so sorry."
"NO!" Stiles finally cried. He felt his legs grow week and start shaking. He would have fallen if not for the deputy in front of him grabbing him and bringing him into a sort of hug. "He can't be dead, he's not dead, dad's not dead," he found himself saying, or rather sobbing, into Jordan's shirt. Sobs wracked his thin frame as he tried to wrap his mind around it. He clung to the fabric like a lifeline, burying his face in it. If he tried, he could pretend it was his dads' shirt his face was pressed against and that he had just woken up from a bad nightmare and nothing was wrong. But opening his eyes proved that theory to be false.
Apparently his shouts had caught the attention of his classmates, a few of whom were standing just outside the doorway nearby. His vision was blurry from his tears, but he did manage to make out the confused, and horrified faces of his friends. Kira's hand was over her mouth in shock, and Lydia had just stood there frozen, eyes wide and face pale. And then Scott…
Scott had a look on his face that told Stiles he'd heard everything. The young Alpha's eyes were drawn into that god forsaken puppy look and his hands were clenching and unclenching, as if unsure whether he should do something or not. Stiles didn't care what he did though. The feeling of a panic attack coming was too strong now. But he couldn't bring himself to care. His hands were shaking hard, and his breath came in short, erratic burst. The tears had started streaming down his face by now, so the ones from the panic attack didn't look at all out of place. But he didn't fight it. He didn't care. Because the only thing left in the world he still had, the only person he'd always had and that was always there for him, was dead. His dad was dead. So he didn't care when he finally succumbed to the panic and fear and sorrow and all the overwhelming emotions that swirled like a tempest inside him. Because his dad was dead.