Stiles sneaks out of the warehouse after Scott leaves for Allison's, trying to focus on how lucky he is that that the Kanima hadn't seriously damaged his jeep- not that the Kanima is now werewolf Jackson or that he and Lydia are riding off into the sunset or that Gerard Argent is missing or that Peter psychowolf Hale is apparently alive.
His Dad is waiting up for him and takes one look at his face before pulling him into another tight hug. Having his dad's pride is a feeling he's missed, replaced by distrust and disappointment, and despite the sour of Stiles' misdirection the reassurance makes the ache in his chest lessen. His dad lets him retreat to his room with promise to go to the ER in the morning.
Stiles is surprised that he fell asleep in the first place when he wakes up- clock flashing 7:17- in a cold sweat, heart pounding in time with his nightmare of Allison pounding his face in. His cheek throbs in sympathy. He can't stop analyzing the look that was on Allison's face as her dad reassured Stiles that he'd let Erica and Boyd go. She'd known about their capture. Had she seen Gerard's bloody knuckles? Connect the dots to Stiles' face? Did she know while it was going on? Help her grandfather shoot down her classmates in the first place? Stiles tries to give her the benefit of the doubt, more for Scott's sake than their own friendship, but questions still tumble through his head.
The smell of frying eggs and bacon permeates his room so Stiles heaves himself out of bed. His phone has run out of batteries, but he leaves it on his dresser, unplugged.
After breakfast his dad drags him to the hospital to get an x-ray of his face and Scott's Mom is on shift. Stiles is glad Mrs. McCall knows about werewolves now, accepts Scott. He's also glad that his Dad doesn't know- believes his story about the loosing La Crosse team and thought nothing of it when he chased after Lydia the night before. When she sees Stiles' bruise he knows that Scott hasn't had time to think about what happened.
Mellissa McCall had never really liked Stiles as Scott's friend (Hyperactive and impulsive, who could blame her with Scott's severity of asthma. Especially with Stiles constantly dragging her son into trouble when Scott should be trying to improve his abysmal grades), but she'd accepted him as his best (pretty much only) friend. Over the years she'd developed a grudging affection for Stiles, especially after Scott's dad had left and he stuck around through Scott's moody phase.
"Stiles," she says breaking his train of thought. Stiles looks up. They're alone in the room and she looks slightly uncomfortable. Stiles can't meet her eyes, wanting nothing less than to be interrogated about all the supernatural things that have been happening.
"Scott's been telling me what's been happening the past year and I just." She pauses. Swallows. "I want to thank you-"
And of course Scott didn't tell her that it was Stiles that dragged him into the woods that night. Scott probably doesn't even think to blame him, but Stiles can't handle the grateful look directed towards him. He jumps up, paper crinkling, and holds out a hand.
"Please don't."
She squints at him, confused, and her mouth snaps shut. Stiles squeezes his eyes closed and rubs a hand harshly down his face, flinching when a finger brushes over his bruise. It feels as painful as he remembers his arm being when he broke it in the second grade. He'd cried until his mom had lifted him up- even though he'd been too old, too heavy- and god, he can't even remember what she'd said to distract him. If she'd told him a story or-
Mrs. McCall is still standing there. Stiles lowers his hand to fiddle with the hem of his flannel shirt. "Look," he starts, for once at a loss for words. He doesn't want to say anything at all, but her eyes are still heavy on his face. "I'm the one who convinced Scott to llok for a body in the middle of a police investigation. I'm the one who left him there when my Dad found me. I-" Stiles breaks off.
Mrs. McCall's eyes are narrowed and Stiles thinks that she's about to kill him (after surviving a newly turned werewolf, a psycho killer alpha, his murderous stalker classmate, and Kanima Jackson of course he was going to end up killed by his best friend mom), but then she pulls him into a bone crushing hug.
"You're such a dumbass," she says, choked against his shoulder, an Stiles is too surprised by the hug to note her word choice. "You are sixteen years old. It's in your job description to make idiotic life choices. Everything that's happening to Scott is not your fault." There's a warm wetness seeping through the fabric of his shirt to his shoulder and Stiles realizes that he's crying too. And when the lump in his throat dissolves, Stiles takes his first clear breath since he saw claw marks in his chair.