Stiles ran through the halls of the school looking in every classroom. Each one yielding nothing until he came to a sudden, horrid stop. There she was strapped to a chair, crying. He called out to her desperately, "Lydia! Lydia!"

But she didn't acknowledge him. In fact she didn't even seem to hear him. Her gaze was locked on something across the room. Following her stare, his heart froze.

His father was leaning against the clump of desks behind him with a knife hilt protruding from his chest. "No!" involuntarily tore from his throat. Movement pulled Stiles' attention from his father and he saw his teacher advancing quickly. "No! You leave him alone!"

Jennifer stopped in front of the Sheriff leering maliciously. With inhuman strength she reached down and plucked the man from the ground. When she spoke her voice was hard and cold. "To serve and protect, right Sheriff? A guardian of the people."

Braving a force unknown, he stood tall. "Always," Stilinski affirmed. Bitingly, he added, "You won't get away with this."

"Probably not," she agreed. "But I will have my revenge first."

"Revenge on who?"

"Doesn't matter. You will never find out." She spun around him to stand at his back. Her quick movements also produced her weapon of choice. The garrote circled the Sheriff's throat. For the first time, she acknowledged the frantic shouting and banging teen from beyond the blocked door. Her gaze flickered toward the door and speared the boy. Instantly, he stilled. Grinning, she advised loudly, "Better say good-bye now, Stilinski."

Brown locked with blue. In that heartbeat there was a lifetime of conversation that transpired. Two phrases cycled and repeated continuously between them – I'm sorry and I love you.

Life drained from those previously crisp blue eyes. A glint of a blade and a flick of the wrist stole the rest. The limp body crumpled to the ground. The Durach was gone.

Stiles was screaming, pounding on an unforgiving door. Blood flecked along its surface from knuckles ripped and torn. And then suddenly it sprung open, admitting the distraught teen. Stumbling inside, he made his way over to his father and collapsed. It was already too late.

"nonononono, dad. Dad! No, please! nonononono." The endless litany spilled from his lips. With trembling arms he scooped the older man up and cradled him against his chest. "God, please, No!"

Without warning, the Sheriff shot up and turned dead eyes to his son. He hissed, "It's your fault. You killed me."

Startled, terrified, Stiles fell backwards. "No," he begged; denied.

"You killed us both!" Stiles knew who his father meant by both. And now he was alone.

"NOOOOO!"

Black so deep that nothing could penetrate washed over him. Pain, Anger, Despair - poured out, shredding his vocal chords like razor blades.

And then there was light. Sharp, brilliant – scattering the darkness.

He didn't know where he was. His surroundings were not his room, nor his home. The man in front of him was not his father, but there was familiarity; trust there.

A gentle, soothing voice attempted to pull him from the nightmare. "Stiles, Stiles, you need to calm down. It wasn't real." The man approached as if he would a trapped and frightened animal.

And in many ways, Stiles was. Lost, confused in a foreign territory. Screaming, heart racing, sweating and in pain. Desperate and heartbroken. Angry and impotent. And most prominently – petrified.

He wanted his father. The one constant in his life that was always there for him, despite the long, irregular hours. Needed that gruff timber that meant love and safety. But his anchor was gone- stolen.

Tears coursed down his face. His chest felt tight and constricting. And there was a whole in the pit of his stomach that tormented his soul.

Again, that gentle voice spoke to him, "Come on, Stiles. I know it's hard but you have to relax. You won't do anyone any good like this, especially your father."

It was then that the voice finally registered. Tentatively, he whispered, "Deaton?"

"Welcome back," the vet smiled.

"How long was I out?"

"Not nearly as long as you should have been; only about two hours."

"Where am I?"

"In a back room at the clinic."

Glancing around, Stiles frowned. "You have a full on bed at the clinic?"

The older man shrugged. "I used to board pets and I used to have someone here 24 hours in case of emergencies. Never saw a need to get rid of it after I stopped boarding. It's actually been pretty useful, especially lately."

They sat there in silence for several minutes. Slowly, memories were starting to come back to Stiles. His gaze abruptly pierced the bald man. "You drugged me."

With a wan grin, the vet nodded. "You haven't slept in two days, since your father was taken. And it's obvious you haven't been sleeping well even before that. If you are going to be of any use in the few hours to come, you needed rest. And that Panic Attack from earlier didn't help your condition in any way. I felt it prudent to ensure you got a few hours in. Besides it gave me time to do a little research into our Guardian Sacrifice problem."

"And?" Anxious now, Stiles sat up straighter.

"I think I found something that might work but it is extremely dangerous."

"But it will save them, right?"

Deaton considered his answer for a moment. He had found something that could allow them to replace the sacrifice of the Guardians Jennifer had collected, however there was no guarantee she wouldn't kill them anyway. Looking into those caramel eyes, Deaton could see the worry and fear swirling in their depths. And after seeing his condition first hand after only two days of his father being taken, the vet knew the teen couldn't live without him. So if he gave a half truth or what some would consider false hope to ease the frantic teen's mind, who could blame him? Nodding, he spoke in a clear and matter-of-fact tone, "Yes."

Reassured, Stiles scrambled out of the bed and pulled out his cell. "I'll call Allison so we can start planning." He hurried out of the room without looking back.

Deaton sighed. He knew what he was about to propose would not be easy on any of them. But he also knew that the three friends would do whatever it took to save their parents. He wished there was a way to spare them the choice they would ultimately have to make, but he knew there was no other option. Thus he mentally prepared himself for the long night ahead and followed Stiles out to the examination room that everyone would soon gather in.

- TW – TW – TW – TW –

Well, I hope you all enjoyed this. The scene was nagging me and would not let me work on anything else until I got it out. That coupled with the fact that I did not have as much writing time this week as I hoped, I am thinking I may only be able to post a chapter to Silencer tomorrow. Sorry. –pout-

Now, this takes place after Deaton comes to collect Stiles at school and I am actually really surprised that I did not find a fic out there touching this moment in the series. It was a gap that needed filled in my mind. (If I missed one, please let me know as I would like to read it.) I hope I did alright. Just so you know, this was most definitely a One-shot. I have no plans or inclinations to make this a Series. I already have enough of those on my hands. lol Still, this was a lot of fun to write.

Oh, and one more thing. I wasn't exactly sure how I wanted Deaton to drug Stiles, I was thinking he slipped it into a drink or snuck up on him and poked him with a needle. Either way, I wouldn't put it past the man and I liked both options enough that I couldn't decide which one to go with. So I didn't write it in, I leave it to reader's choice. ;)

As always, thank you all for reading! Much love to you all. Catch y'all tomorrow in Silencer.

~Ari :D