He wanted to stay home and talk to his mother, but she insisted that he go to school since she had to watch over his father .

"I'll come by soon. I promise. I'm never too far away from you when you need me." She promised as she "sat" next to him in his jeep, parked right outside of his school.

"I guess you around me more often now, huh?" Stiles tried to joke, he could feel his chest tighten over the thought of his mother trying her best to watch out for him as he fought against Peter, Jackson, Michael, and (of course) Derek. He had to admit, he probably was causing his mom more of a panic attack now versus when he did when he was little.

"I don't know who to be afraid for more, you or your father. You both are involved with things that can hurt you." His mother sighed as she started to evaporate, "I'll be back, I promise."

He never doubted his mother when she was alive.

So why doubt her now?

He had gotten some info from her on his drive to school. Things like she couldn't be in two places at once, that she had limited power: meaning that were some things she couldn't protect him from.

"You have no idea how much I wanted to hurt Matt when he let Jackson hurt you." His mother seethed as she recalled the memory.

"So why couldn't you?"

"There are just times were you just have to let things happen in order for the world to continue. Everything is already written and there is only so much things you can change from the afterlife. I've stopped lots of things from happening to you and your father."

Stiles bit his lip, he felt guilty after his mother died because part of him knew he had killed her.

But knowing that he was causing her grief and worry in the afterlife pained him more.

"But I know that there are some situations that have to happen in order for you and father to move on."

Stiles didn't want to say that he and his dad were moving on, but were just ignoring the big fat elephant in the room that was no doubt growing bigger with each passing day.

As his mom had promises, she returned to him during history class. Stiles let out a muffled squeal as his mom stood beside him.

"You can talk to me telepathically if you want. No one can hear me besides you." His mother informed him.

Stiles let out a telepathic snort, 'Or you know see the dead people walking around school. How many people have freaking died here?!' Stiles asked her, he was beyond freaked out and scared as he walked to each of his classes and noticed ghosts drifting past him. A few had realized that they could be seen by him.

Stiles noticed that some had died years ago (God, how bad were the clothes in the 60s and 70s?) and others not too long ago. He recognized a few from old year books.

"There a lot of people who have unfinished business and some just revel in the good years."

She saw the sour look on Stiles face.

"Or are haunted by the nightmare that is high school." She sighed as Stiles massaged his head. She brushed her fingers through his hair or at least tried too. Stiles couldn't help but wince as he felt his mother phase through him.

The cold chill eased him a width of a toothpick.

"Mr. Stilinski, are you feeling alright?" His history teacher asked, looking slightly worried.

Alison turned to look at him and frown.

(Did he look pale or something?)

Stiles cleared his throat. "I'm fine."

He winced again, his voice sounded so rough and raw. He blinked back the tears and nodded his head, "Just a migraine. Sorry." He added quickly, casting his eyes down to his work sheet.

"Alright. But if you start to feel ill, please speak up." His teacher duly noted and returned to the lesson at hand.

"I have to admit, when you were little you used to complain about your teachers not liking you. Didn't really believe it until I saw how Harrison and your coach were treating you." His mom shook her head and smiled. "How is it that you manage to get yourself into all sorts of trouble?"

'Trouble? I'm just an innocent-' his mother 'look 'stopped him from continuing (He missed the 'look' she would give him when he would get into trouble) and smirked playfully. 'Innocent looking? At least give me that! I mean I can't pull of that sad puppy eyes look like Scott. That sounds weird now considering what he is and also so wrong since puppies are cute and can't rip your throat out.'

His mom waited a beat. God bless that woman for having the patient of well, an…(Angel?(yeah, sure why not? The patience of an angel.)) "I've came to a conclusion that they are just jealous of your brain."

'And my face, you can't admit I don't have a pretty face.' Stiles quipped, knowing he looked like an idiot smiling at nothing.

"And your face." His mom agreed, smiling back proudly.

(He missed her. Truly missed her.)

'I know we covered this on the car ride here, but explain it to me again how you don't count as an angel. I mean you said you protected dad and me every day; doesn't that count as a guardian angel? At least? Or does God have ranks?'

"Guardian angels are sent out to those who don't have love ones on the other side protecting them, they are for people who shouldn't meet with the angel of death but occasionally have brush in."

Stiles was beginning to get the hang of this After Life Political Ranking stuff. As far as his mom could explain, no one passing to the other side actually met God. They weren't really sure if God actually existed (Oh the 700 Club would have a freaking hissy fit if they knew that!), they were usually meant with angels who told them where they were staying or they were given options if they truly didn't have any unfinished business: stay on earth and protect your love ones or move on.

'So can ask you another question?'

"Stiles, don't you have to focus on your school work? Pretend I'm not here."

Stiles actually turned to face his mom. 'I could never do that. Especially not now.'

His mom bit her lip, "I'll answer one more question, and then you go back to paying attention in class."

'Alright, fine. Just so you know, there's like a twenty percent that I would pay attention, even if you …and her,: He jutted his chin slightly at the ghost of a middle age woman, (50s, definitely from the 50s. (Hair that high should be illegal.) "Weren't here in front of me. What happens to the people who were evil or did bad stuff, liking killing or what not?'

She took a deep breath (Again, "deep breath" wasn't the best words to use. She couldn't actually breath), "People who kill for fun or for revenge or in anger don't go to hell. At least not the kind we think of when we are alive. Those who truly kill and have no conscience or guilt about it live out their own personal hell." She paused for a moment, looking as if she were fighting with her inner demon (That just sounded weird now!).

"I'll show you what I mean after school."

Stiles frowned at his mother's wavering voice. Clearly she had seen someone going through their own personal hell. He nodded slowly; ignoring the odd looks he was given. 'Uh, just one more thing? How come you-'

"Stiles, focus."

Stiles pouted, ignoring the odd looks Alison was giving him. 'Fine, fine. Not like I haven't learned and studied the fall of the Soviet Union before or anything.'

"Gemin!" His mother hardly ever used his given name. Except when he was in trouble with her (Which was rare.)

He knew he would wince at that. He hated it when his mom would call him that. He felt like a three year old again being scolded her.

It was really annoying whenever his mom call him that.

But now…

He didn't mind it so much.

He smiled at her and went back to listening to his teacher, not caring to respond to Allison asking him if he was alright.

"Scott, I love you. You know that? So what I'm about to say means really nothing. But if you could please, stop sniffing me in the school parking lot."

Stiles knew that Scott's sense of smell was crazy good. Good to the point where it freaked Stiles more than the whole werewolf thing did.

He was used to it, being sniffed out by Scott if he all of a sudden changed his cologne or body wash (Stiles from then on had to make sure that he told or text Scott about the change (No more sniffing at school, got it?)) or if his father decided to buy a different laundry detergent.

It shouldn't have surprised him that Scott could smell the difference with him.

He just didn't expect it to such a strong and palpable scent difference.

"Dude, what the hell?" Scott asked after school had ended. He had gotten a few texts from Allison warning him about Stiles behavior. "Allison told me you were acting weird in class. I thought you over did it on the Adderall again. But now…" he took a big whiff of Stiles' neck and growled.

Stiles jumped back and made a face. He looked around the parking lot and noticed the odd and amused looks on some of his classmates' faces. "Okay two things. Ease up on the werewolf growling. I don't need you to go feral in broad day light at school and two, and mostly importantly: No more sniffing me."

He could hear his mother laugh at them.

He never was much of a glarer. Never could pull of the 'I'm-the-big-ass-evil-dude-who's -going -to-glare-at-you-till-your-face-melts'. (The winner and all around champion of that was definitely Derek Hale (And the crowd pees in their pants as they run in fear)

'Would you please? This isn't funny.' Stiles pleased with his mother. Sounding more like a three year old than ever.

She was still laughing. "I'm sorry. It's just you two were always cute together. It's like watching two puppies fighting over a toy bone."

'That would sound cute if it wasn't for the fact that Scott can actually turn into a werewolf' Stiles thought as he tried not to grit his teeth in annoyance, more at Scott than his mother. The same Scott who was still freaking sniffing him.

"Dude, again. Stop with the sniffing. Do not make me bring out the spray bottle!" Stiles stepped back to let some space between them.

"You did it again." Scott's eyes zeroed in on Stiles. "You kept looking somewhere else. It's like you're here but you're not really here."

Stiles opened his mouth and closed it again. He hated to admit it, but he did find Scott pretty dumb at times. And other times-completely off the charts smart.

He sort of wished now would be one of those times. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Scott pouted, "You're lying to me? Since when have you ever lied to me?" he sounded truly hurt.

"You know I don't think you have ever lied to Scott before, much less hidden anything from him." His mother stated sounding both intrigued and amused. "You two are so much like real brothers."

Stiles didn't notice he wasn't looking at Scott till Scott flicked his forehead. "Dude, are you even listening?"

"What? Yeah, I'm totally listening! You don't have to worry buddy. I'm here, alright?"

Scott sighed and stepped closer to his best friend, "You're lying to me again."

Stiles bit his lip, he hated lying to Scott. Of all the people in the universe, he had never been dishonest with Scott.

But explaining that you can see and talk to ghost seemed like an impossible discussion to have. (Even with your best friend who happens to be a werewolf…(Alright, I'm lying to myself. Can't I just keep the fact I can talk to my mom a secret for a while?)

"Stiles, if something is wrong you can tell me. You know that."

"Nothing is wrong Scott. Okay? Look, I just took one too many pills and I've been staring at the computer a lot more now. It's nothing."

Stiles hoped he had on his best "I'm perfectly 100% great" and "End of Discussion" face on.

"Really? Then why do you smell like death?"

((Okay, so totally was not expecting that as a response))

Stiles reeled back and flinched; he looked around and ran his fingers through his hair. Extremely put off and scared now, he took a chance to look at his mom-who looked just as put off.

"Wait? I smell like death?"

Scott nodded.

"Like bunnies dying death smell? Because I hang out with you guys a lot. It could be just the-"

Scott cut him off (Stiles didn't miss the eyes changing colors) "No, you smell like death. Like actual people dying. But it's weird."

"It gets weirder?!"

Scott rolled his eyes and pushed Stiles farther from a group of students who decided to make the parking lot their spot to chit-chat. "Yes it gets weirder. Does that honestly surprise you?"

Stiles shrugged, "You wouldn't think so but…" he waved his hands, wanting Scott to continue on.

"You smell like death, but like good death."

"Good death?" Stiles guffawed, "There's a good death? No one has ever used the adjective "good" or any other words synonymous with good to describe death before, Scott." Stiles had to give it to himself, he could definitely pull of "being hysterical" to a T.

He could feel his mom getting nervous.

And now not only was he starting to attract attention from his classmates but all of the wondering ghosts in the school parking lot as well.

((Great…))

Scott lowered his voice, "I just mean that you smell like death-"

Stiles shook his head. "Again, not at all comforting to hear."

"You smell like death, but also sort of like hope?" Scott face scrunched up.

"Hope? I smell like hope?" Stile let out a breath, completely incredulous about Scott's description.

"I-It's hard to explain, but you smell like peace." He growled in frustration, "Look, it's just that you smell like death but also something calming. I don't know how else to explain, but it's definitely creeping me out."

'Half part creepy and half part pretty cool considering I get to actually see dead people' Stiles thought to himself, not knowing his mom could hear his private thoughts as well.

"Part of me was actually hoping that you would make some sort of reference or joke about that movie." His mother bit her lip in order not to laugh. She rested her hands on Stiles' shoulder, "We should go. I want you back home in time to be with your dad."

'I still need to give him a reason though…I don't like lying to Scott.'

"Leave that to me." His mom whispered. He could feel something cold go through him.

"If you want the honest trust Scott…I was at the cemetery."

"Why?"

Stile gave him a knowing look.

It took about five seconds for Scott to get it. "Oh, Oh! Crap, now I feel like an idiot."

"Just now you feel like an idiot? Because I hate to break it to you, there have been other times." Stiles quipped as he walked to his jeep along side with Scott.

"Why didn't you just tell me then that you were visiting your mom then?"

"With everything going on I just needed some peace and quiet with her. I mean, you have the freaking pact to share everything with. Hell, even your mom knows half the crap we go through. My dad doesn't know anything yet and it's not like I can tell him or anything." He got into his car and started the engine.

"Wait, where are you going? We have lacrosse practice now."

"Ditching."

Scott shook his head, "You're ditching practice? You're MVP, you can't just ditch."

"Well first time for everything." He slammed the door, but Scott still held onto the door tight.

"And what about the pack meeting? You'll be there right?"

Stiles shrugged, "Not an actual pack member so I don't have to go. Derek should consider that an early birthday gift or something."

Scott sighed as he finally let go of the door, "Are you going to tell me where you're going?"

"Do I have to tell you where I'm going? God, it's not like you don't have about ten other people in your life that you can hang out with."

"Genim?" Stile's mom sounded worried and confused by the tone of his voice. Stiles rarely ever sounded bitter towards Scott, but he never once sounded angry at him.

Scott gaped at him, he looked like kick puppy (Which of course was hysterically iron-(No, please, no more jokes right now)). He walked back from Stiles. "Yeah, you're right. It's not like any of them are my best friend though."

Stiles nodded, he didn't feel too guilty about the outburst. He could feel his feelings, those God awful thoughts and feelings he had about Scott and the rest of pact simmering to the top. "Yeah, just one happens to be your girlfriend and one happens to be a big bad alpha werewolf who considers you to be his little brother." That sounded even angrier than the last and a whole lot bitter. Stiles didn't even wait for a response, "I gotta go. I'll talk to you whenever." He sped out quickly from the parking lot, ignoring the sharp sting of tears he refused to let fall.

"What was that?" Stiles asked, his hands clutching the steering wheels so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. "I never get angry at Scott or snap like that. Not even when dad got hurt, and that's saying something! And by the way, what was with the whole cold tingling spine thing? It felt like you were-"

"Controlling you."

Stiles looked at her in disbelief.

"Eyes on the road." She warned.

Stiles did a double take at the road and her before shifting his eyes on the road again (And yes, other drivers were noticing him talking to no one (Let's hope they think I'm using a hands free device)), "You-you can control people? I thought you said you weren't an angel?! Why do you have powers like that?"

"I'm not an angel, just a phantom-a ghost really. But we do have some leeway given to us by angels. One of them being we can push our love one when they need it."

Stiles nodded.

"That didn't make any sense did it?" His mom asked, reading him very well.

He shook his head, "No not at all, can you try explaining it to me like I'm four? And where are we going exactly?"

"The Hale house."

Stiles looked back at her.

"Stiles, look at the road, please."