Title means: In The Name Of The Father And The Son And The Cursed Moon.
Fic inspired by a prompt on Tumblr: Stiles has been a decently good-natured demon this entire time, possessing the body of a kid who would have otherwise died already. Stiles is still Stiles, he just happens to be a demon.
There was sunshine and wind and a myriad of sounds and for the first time Stiles felt something that wasn't hate.
Hell was full of hate. Fear, pain and hate. Earth was so different it was overwhelming.
If Stiles focused his essence he could even taste it, the happiness and peace - it was intoxicating in a way Stiles had never imagined, but also surprisingly exhausting. So in the end Stiles sought out the one place that didn't emit life and joy: The Beacon Hill hospital.
It was here he found the man. He was asleep, slumped across the dying body of a woman. Stiles could feel the sorrow and pain and guilt and it felt like home. This would be his vessel. This man. He would lose his wife soon - it was a matter of hours - and then he would be alone.
"Dad?"
Stiles whirled around in the shadows, essence reaching out to examine the new human in the room. It was a child - a boy - and he too was dying, even if the sickness in him was far less progressive. He would live a while yet, even if death for him was as certain as it was for the woman. The child's mother, Stiles reasoned. Well, that changed things. Stiles had not come here to make orphans.
A nurse walked in, emitting waves of busy determination. "Mr. Stilinski, go home and sleep, please? Your son needs a real meal and his own bed. She'll be asleep until tomorrow and we'll call you if there are any changes."
Stilinksi? Well, that was just too convenient. And right at that moment Stiles made his choice. It would have to be the boy. Stiles couldn't cure him, but he could keep him alive, let him have a dormant existence and keep his dad happy.
That night Mr. Stilinski told his son to go get ready for bed and while the boy brushed his teeth the father washed tears out of his eyes in the kitchen sink.
The boy had the warmest soul Stiles had ever met, but of course Stiles had mostly dealt with sinners. This boy was pure and full of love and it took a while to settle in and adjust to the new confinements and the effect the boy's soul had on Stiles' essence.
"I'm sorry I fell asleep on you in the hospital, son. I promise I'll give you more attention now." Mr. Stilinski sat down on the bed. "You know I love you, right?"
"I know, dad." Stiles said and the action was new and took some getting used to. But he liked it - liked saying words. "I'm gonna be Stiles from now on." Stiles said and the man - his new father - smiled a sad little smile.
"Is it because you're mad at your mom? You know this isn't her fault? You know how much she loves you, right?"
"I know." Stiles said and reached out to take his dad's hand. It was shaking, but warm. "And it's not because mom named me. I'm not mad at her, it's just… I don't want to always be reminded."
"Well, Stiles." His father said and let his free hand run through Stiles short hair. "If that's what you want."