Author's note: Just a little something warm and fuzzy as a post-holiday thing. I'll finish my teen wolf fic soon, promise.

Outside her office people were typing and phones were ringing. It was a typical Friday morning. Everyone was rushing for the weekend. Except Phoebe. She left a bit early the day before because of a demon, so she knew she was going to be late today. So she accepted it, sorting through the letters from her readers. She had gotten through most of them fairly quickly when, near the end of the pile, she paused.

What drew her attention more than anything were the stickers. Phoebe honestly couldn't remember the last time she got an envelope with stickers on it. Especially transformer stickers. The hand writing was careful, like a child just learning cursive.

Dear Ms. Ask Phoebe,

My name is Scott. I am 8 years old and my mom reads your advice every week because she says you help people with their problems. So, if it's not too much trouble, could you help me with mine?

My mom and dad are getting divorced. My dad left a few months ago and now he only calls on the phone once in a while. How do I make my dad come back home with us and my mom and dad to stop yelling?

I hope you answer is in your advice thing. Mom says people write anomously. Which means they don't put in their names. You can put mine in though. I don't mind.

Sincererly,

Scott McCall

P.S. My mom doesn't know I'm writing this, but if she did she would say hi.

It certainly wasn't every day that Phoebe got letters from kids. This little boy Scott was able to mail the letter with proper postage and everything. The address said Beacon Hills, California. That wasn't far, was it?

"Elise!"

"Yes?" Her boss poked her head through the door.

"I need your help finding a little boy."

Elise stepped all the way into the room. She looked towards the ceiling as though asking for divine guidance.

"You've done some weird things Phoebe, but kidnapping is on a whole other level."

"No, not like that, God!" When did she get a reputation as the crazy one in the office? Probably on the first day, really. "This boy wrote to me and I want to find him."

"Why?"

"Because sometimes you need more than a column to answer a question."

Luckily Melissa McCall was on desk duty the day the daycare closed early. Her son played with his game boy behind the desk. She could keep an eye on him while she worked. Scott was so quiet that no one minded.

"Second floor, take the elevator and first door on the left." The man thanked her and walked away.

"He'll take you back to his office in about five minutes." The woman nodded. She carefully sat in a chair, hissing in pain.

"Your sister will be done shortly. You can wait there until she's ready." The boy thanked her.

Directing people could be exhausting. Especially on a busy day like today. Melissa leaned back in her chair. Only two more hours. And then she had extra hours tomorrow because like she'd trust Rafe with alimony checks. At the moment, no one was waiting to be seen. Melissa flipped through a magazine.

"Mom, can I go to the bathroom?"

"Sure sweetie."

As soon as Scott turned the corner a professional looking woman briskly walked up to the front desk. Her high heels shoes clicked against the linoleum floor. She looked around, like she was there to meet someone. Maybe she knew one of the staff. She looked familiar.

"Hello, I'm looking for Nurse McCall. Is she working today?"

"Um yes, actually I'm her. Can I help you?"

"Yes. I'm Phoebe Halliwell. I write a column in the Bay-"

"You're Ask Phoebe?" Melissa squinted her eyes. Her hair was different, that must be why she couldn't tell. She held out her hand. "I'm Melissa, you already knew that. Hello."

"Hi." She smiled.

"What are you doing here?"

"Well, I got a letter from a little boy named Scott." Phoebe held up a sticker-covered envelope.

"That's my son, wait, he wrote to you?" As far as she knew he only read the comic section.

"Yes, and he talked about his parents getting a divorce."

"My husband, well, ex-husband, and I told him about a month ago."

"Well I was just in the area and I thought that maybe I could answer his question in person? If that's okay with you. I have kids myself and I know that it's hard for them to understand things sometimes."

Of course right then Scott ran back from the bathroom. Melissa watched her son walk behind the counter without glancing at the famous columnist he apparently summoned.

"Um Scott, hey, do you know who this is?" Scott balanced on his tip toes as he peeked over the counter.

"No."

"Hi Scott." Phoebe rested her arms on the counter. "My name's Phoebe. I'm the one you sent the letter to."

Scott ducked behind the counter. He hid behind Melissa, who instinctively brushed her hand over his hair.

"Sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry sweetie. That's my job. Now I was just asking your mom if I could talk to you for a bit." She looked at Melissa.

"Um, yeah, of course." Melissa probably wouldn't have objected even if she fully grasped the situation. "Scott, do you want to talk to Phoebe?"

Scott stuck his head out. He stared at Phoebe for a few seconds. To her credit she didn't react, just smiled.

"Okay."

"Okay, well there's a cafeteria downstairs. Scott knows where it is. There's ice cream." Melissa reached for her purse before remembering it was in her locker.

"Oh don't worry I'll cover it." She held out her hand for Scott. To Melissa's surprise, he rested his fingers in her palm. The two of them made their way down the hall, past nurses and orderlies and patients. Scott wasn't tugging on his hair or looking at the ground. He usually hated strangers.

Melissa eased back into her chair. It took a second before she realized that someone was talking to her.

"Miss, I'm looking for my husband's room."

"Okay, can I see your ID?"

For the next half hour she answered phone calls and gave directions and tried to ignore just how unreal this was.

Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital Cafeteria was a small room with metal chairs and tables. The linoleum floor reflected the people eating cheeseburgers and staring at their phones. Only a few people were there.

Scott clutched a snickers cone in his hand as Phoebe gave money to the cashier. (She said he could call her by her first name, like grownups did.) She liked snickers cones too. She also said she liked the stickers he put on his envelope. Stiles had said he shouldn't have put stickers on because he should try to sound older. Scott couldn't wait to tell Stiles. He hated being wrong.

Phoebe led him to a booth in the back of the room. The seats were almost too tall and he had to climb up to get there. She didn't say she could help. She let him do it himself, which he liked.

"So, Scott, you're in 3rd grade, right?"

Scott nodded. "I'm going to turn 9 in June."

"Wow, you're getting big huh."

He liked Miss Phoebe.

They talked for a few more minutes about school before she held out the letter.

"So, Scott, you said in your letter that your dad left a few months ago?"

Scott licked the ice cream dripping off his cone. "Yeah. They had a fight. I don't remember what happened but the police showed up. My friend's Stiles' dad works for the police and he was there and he said my dad was probably going to leave. And he did." Too late he remembered his mom said not to talk about that. But Phoebe seemed nice. She wouldn't get mad.

"Did your dad yell a lot?"

"Only when he was drunk. He was busy a lot though. And one time I needed my inhaler but he wouldn't give it to me."

"I'm sorry that happened to you. That must have been scary."

Scott shook his head. "My mom came and gave it to me. She helped me."

"That's good. When I was really little, my parents divorced and my dad left. I know how it feels to miss him."

"Did he yell too?"

"No, he and my mom just wanted different things."

"Did he ever come back?"

"Well, when I was an adult I went to New York to find him. It took a while, but eventually we started talking again. My kids go to his house all the time and they love spending time with their grandpa."

"So it was just you and your mom always growing up." Scott set the ice cream down on a napkin. He wasn't hungry anymore. His dad was going to be gone forever.

Phoebe tucked her hair behind her ears. "No, actually my mom died not long after my dad left. I grew up with my sisters and my grandma."

"Stiles' mom died too. He stayed over a lot afterwards and he cried a lot. But my mom says she watches over him from Heaven." Scott didn't say I'm sorry because Stiles didn't like that."

"She does. And my mom watches over me too." Phoebe touched his hand with the tips of her fingers. "I know it's hard, your dad leaving. And I know what it's like to miss him. But I don't think he's coming back anytime soon. And it might be for the best. Your parents didn't sound like they were happy together. At least now you won't have to listen to their yelling all the time."

Scott didn't want to cry in front of a stranger. Especially someone cool like Phoebe. So he stared down at his sneakers hoping the tears would go away. Hoping she wouldn't notice. But instead it was like she knew just how bad he felt. Phoebe scooted over to his side of the booth and touched his shoulder.

"I know it sucks. But you still have your mom. And your friend Stiles. And you have me." She wrapped her arm around his shoulders like his mom did. "If you ever need to talk to me, write to me and I'll write back as soon as I can. Promise."

Scott wiped the wetness from his eyes. "Thank you Phoebe." Without thinking he hugged her waist. She ran her hand through his hair, like his mom. But suddenly she gasped. Scott looked up and Miss Phoebe had this weird look on her face. Her eyes were closed but it looked like she was seeing something. Something scary.

"Phoebe?"

She opened her eyes. Then she hugged him really, really tight.

"It's nothing, sweetie. Sorry I scared you."

"It's okay. What happened?"

"Uh, just a little headache is all. I'm fine." She tucked her hair behind her ear again.

For the next half hour they talked more about school and how he wanted to be a nurse when he grew up, just like his mom, and her daughters, who were a little younger than him. Scott finished his ice cream. They walked back to where his mom was, and by that time he forgot about the weird look.

Phoebe watched Scott scamper back to his place behind the front desk. His mother Melissa gave her a grateful smile, the kind of smile from a tired mother who just got a little bit of help.

"Thank you."

"Any time. And Scott?"

Scott looked up from the game he was starting.

"Any time you need to talk to me, write to me. Promise?"

"Okay." He ducked his head below the table again, as shy as her second daughter Parker. Phoebe thanked Melissa and said her goodbyes. She would let things alone for now.

It wasn't until she was sitting in her car that she pictured her vision in her mind.

A teenage boy, Scott, stands in a darkened library. His eyes aren't a dark brown but rather a bright, unnatural red. His teeth have grown until they sharpened to a point. Before him was a big black beast. Not a man, but a thing of shadow. It roared.

And Scott roared back.

Phoebe didn't know what that meant or when that was going to happen She didn't know if Scott was a type of shifter or would become one later in life. But the feeling she had her vision was an intense protective instinct. He was standing between whatever that thing was and the innocents around him. He was protecting them. So she in turn was going to protect him.

Power of the witches hear my plea

Protect this child of the night

And when he receives his destiny

Give him the strength needed to fight

Knowing that was all she could do, Phoebe started her car. It was a couple hours back to San Francisco and getting stuck in rush hour wouldn't help anyone.

Dear Phoebe,

I'm starting my second semester of sophomore year tomorrow. Despite my asthma I'm still going to try to make first line in lacrosse. Stiles said that it's never going to happen, but you never know until you try, right? I also want to really knuckle down and study this semester. My grades aren't bad, but vet school is harder to get into than medical school. I need to start preparing now.

I also am going to take your advice and ask out a girl. You're right, even if she says no, it's good to push yourself out there. I don't like anyone right now, but maybe I'll meet someone.

I hope work is going well and your family is okay and your sister's restaurant is doing well. If I ever go to San Francisco my mom says that's the first place we'll eat at.

Wish me luck.

Sincerely,

Scott

Scott stuck the letter in his bag. He'd mail it tomorrow before work. Right now he was going to do a few pull ups and call it a night. Sleep deprivation wasn't going to do anyone any good.

It was weird, he thought as he started his exercises. An advice columnist was his pen pal. Every month or so he would write a letter and she would answer back, telling him what to do about bullies, homework and his deadbeat dad. She would talk a little about her life too, her family and her work. She even sent him a signed copy of her book out of the blue. It had nothing to do with her column or anything. Phoebe was just that kind of person. Scott didn't talk about it to other people-they'd either demand autographs or think something was weird-but Stiles said once that maybe she related to him because of her own sad childhood. Scott didn't know. He never asked why she kept writing or why she came down to see him all those years ago. Some people simply wanted to help others.

Scott was startled out of his thoughts by strange noises outside his house. It sounded like someone was trying to climb the porch roof to the second a deep breathe, Scott threw on a shirt and grabbed the family bat. He stepped outside and-

"Aaahhh!"

"Aahhh!"

Stiles hung upside from the porch roof. Scott didn't know whether to hit him with the bat or go back inside.

"Stiles what the hell are you doing?!"

"You weren't answering your phone. Why do you have a bat?"

Classic Stiles. Scott gave and let Stiles tell him about the dead body in the woods that apparently was half missing and they had to check it out, it was like what if their town got famous for some backwoods Charles Manson or some shit?

So Scott reluctantly climbed into Stiles beat up jeep and they took off for the woods. It was a stupid idea, but he had to admit he never saw a dead body before, much less half of one.

Maybe he would add something to the letter about their little adventure, he thought as they pulled up to Beacon Hills Preserve. Phoebe would probably find it funny and tell him not to do it again. But then again, maybe he wouldn't bother. They probably wouldn't find anything out here anyway.