Chapter 2: Advice

Scott's mother was not pleased to come home and discover her back door in the middle of her backyard.

Scott and Stiles lied, taking the blame by telling her they wrestled and accidently knock the door down.

"So, you decided to take it outside?"

"Yeah." They both said in unison.

Mrs. McCall sent Stiles home immediately and made Scott pick up the broken pieces of the door.

"Scott, I don't know what's happening with you lately," she said and Scott watched his mother's eyes droop down in exhaustion. "You've become a different person. Do I need to send you to a psychiatrist?"

"A psychiatrist?"

"I don't know," said Mrs. McCall, throwing her hands up. "I've tried talking, but it's not working." She paused, nibbling the bottom of her lip. "Should I call your Dad?"

Scott's heart skipped a beat. "Dad?"

"Yeah! You're father?" said his mother. "Is this all because you are, well, need a father…"

Scott shook his head. "No! No, I'm fine. I'm just stressing with other things. No, I don't need to speak to him."

Mrs. McCall let out a sigh of relief. "Okay, well, I know it hasn't been easy for you since the whole divorce thing."

"Yeah."

"But, I'm going to change my shifts around so that I can spend more time with you," said his mother, caressing her son's hand. "Okay? Then, maybe we can talk about what's really going on here."

Scott nodded his head though he doubted his mother had anything to say about what he's going through at the moment.

Scott's mother smiled. "Good, now, clean this up and you're grounded."

Scott snapped up. "What?"

"You are only allowed to go to school and the vet's office. Then straight home. No more Stiles or Allison or parties. No more. And you're going to buy a new door and put it back together."

After the final punishment, Mrs. McCall stepped upstairs and Scott heard it start washing her teeth. Scott growled softly before barricading the open space with the broken door and the kitchen table.

Then, slowly, he went upstairs passing his mother's room on the way when he got to thinking. He tapped on his mother's door and Mrs. McCall opened.

"What is it honey?"

"Could you tell me about Dad?"

Mrs. McCall looked surprised. "You know your father."

"I mean," said Scott. 'What he was like before me?"

Mrs. McCall arched an eyebrow. "Before you? You mean, how I met him?"

Scott nodded. "Yeah. Was he different? Was he from around here?"

Mrs. McCall shook her head. "No, he wasn't from around here. We met at one of the local bars. He was sincere and everything. A nice man for the most part. Kept mostly to himself." Mrs. McCall stopped and her eyes faded into a recent memory before coming back to reality. "Then, he changed and didn't become the man I married or the father I would want for my child."

Scott nodded. He remembered his father's taunting words and rising temper. He was devastated that his parents got in a divorce. Most kids were. But, he was also secretly happy his father was out of his and his mother's lives.

Mrs. McCall stared at her son, concerned. "Are you sure you don't need to talk to your—"

"No, I'm good," said Scott. "I was just wondering because a guy from town knew him. I just wanted to know."

Mrs. McCall nodded slowly. "Yeah, well, he'd lived here for twelve years. People are bound to remember him somewhat." Then, she whispered. "Even if we tried not to."

Scott, seeing the sad look upon his mother's face, reaching over and embraced her. "I love you Mom."

Mrs. McCall returned the hug. "I love you too."

They broke off and both went their separate ways. Scott changed into his sleeping shorts and listened to his mother's steady heartbeat that assured him that she was now asleep.

Scott rolled over, thinking about what Peter Hale said. Did his father hang-out with werewolves?

The question haunted him throughout the night.

BREAK

The next school day was dull. Every student passed through the hallways like a routine. Go from one classroom to the next. Stop, talk, grab books, go to class, and repeat. The teachers were busy putting lesson plans from ideas to actions and the kids tried their best not to fall asleep as the teacher spoke.

For Scott, his mind was buzzing, but not over the tales of the Battle of Shiloh. The moment Scott saw Stiles in the morning, he told Scott the bad news: Allison's mother passed away.

"Died? From what? How?"

Stiles shrugged. "I don't know,, but it seems like she committed suicide."

"Suicide?" repeated Scott. "Why would she commit suicide?"

"I don't know. Do I look like the type of person she confides to?"

Scott leaned back against the row lockers. "Why He kept thinking about Peter Hale, the big bad that's coming, and his father. Not to mention, Allison wasn't in school today and nobody seemed to know why. He tried to call her several times, but she wouldn't answer. He left text messages, but, again, no answer. He began to panic, but Stiles calmed him down.

"Stop! Just listen," Stile said. "Can you hear here?"

Scott concentrated, listening for Allison's voice. He scanned the walls of school, then to her house. It was there that he heard Allison's voice. It was cracking and sniffling. She was crying.

"She's crying," said Scott.

"Well, she did just lose her mother," reminded Stiles. "Is she safe?"

"She's at her house."

"Good," said Stiles. "Now you can focus on the main problem at stake."

Stiles kept talking about the other night as well, blubbering on and on about Peter and what to do next throughout the school day. Scott answered, unconvincingly, that he didn't know. He was too busy thinking about Allison and her mother.

"Scott, this is serious," said Stiles as the last bell rang freedom to the teens' ears. "With Peter Hale back, we're all doomed. We are all on his hit list."

"He said he wouldn't kill us."

"Uh—No, he said he wouldn't kill you," corrected Stiles. "Big difference from "you" and "us." I mean, he's going to claw us down like chew toys."

"Stop it!" cried Scott, his heart rate picking up and prickles of facial hair grew along his jaw line. "Stop…stop talking about it okay?"

Stiles bowed his head. "Sorry, sorry, I'm just…scared."

"You're not the only one," said Scott, feeling his inner wolf retreating back into hiding. "We still have to deal with Matt."

"Who was inconveniently not here today," said Stiles.

"And neither was Jackson," added Scott.

The two arrived to the bikes and Scott began to unlock his bike.

"Why don't we just go to his house and stop him?" suggested Stiles.

"With what?" asked Scott, "Your ADHD and my furry wolf problem? He's not exactly stoppable at the moment."

"Why don't you talk to your doctor friend?" said Stiles. "Your boss."

"Dr. Deaton?"

"He knows a lot about the supernatural than we do."

Scott agreed. "All right," he said. "I'll ask him for help. You just…stay safe for now."

"And how do I do that?"

"Be around water."

BREAK

Scott was busy cleaning and sterilizing the metal examine table when Dr. Deaton came around to him.

"Busy day, busy day," said Dr. Deaton. "Thank goodness I can go home and relax now."

Scott put down the spray bottle. "Dr. Deaton," he started. "We're in trouble."

Dr. Deaton turned around, his face growing serious. "Trouble? What kind of trouble?"

"The Kanima master," said Scott. "We figured out who it is, but we don't know how to stop it."

Dr. Deaton stepped over to the examine table, the light shinny his baldhead. "Well, Scott, there are two options to stop the Kanima master."

Scott perked up. "How?"

"Kill."

Scott's face fell.

"Or save the Kanima."

Scott perked up again. "Save Jackson? But, how?"

Dr. Deaton pulled his jacket off and draped it over a nearby chair. "Jackson's a kanima because he has gotten over something from his past. Correct?"

Scott nodded. "Yeah."

"So, the only way to get him out of the Kanima master's control is to—."

"Resolve Jackson's past," finished Scott. " Solve the problem that has defined Jackson."

Dr. Deaton nodded. "Do you know anything that has bothered Jackson or troubled him before?"

Scott didn't need to think. "Yes, the death of his parents."

"Then you need to resolve it," replied Dr. Deaton. "Help Jackson resolve his desire for his biological parents. Then, he will no longer be a kanima and the master will lose control."

Scott thanked Dr. Deaton and picked up the sprayer and rag, but the vet could see through the relieved façade. "There's something else on your mind, isn't there?"

Scott shook his head. "No, no nothing. Just…I got a lot of things."

He didn't fool the vet. "Scott, what's really troubling you?"

Scott set the spray and rag down again. "Allison…her mom."

"Ah…yes, I heard about it," he said. "That must be tough. To lose a mother."

Scott agreed, not wanting to image his own mother lying in a coffin. "Yeah, but I don't understand why she would do that? I mean, she tried to kill me and—."

"Sometimes, people can't explain the actions of others," said Dr. Deaton. "It is best to simply be there for comfort and to listen."

"I feel like it's my fault though," said Scott. "Maybe if I had died, then she—."

"Dying wouldn't solve the problem Scott," Dr. Deaton strongly stated. "It would only make things worse."

Scott let out a long, uneasy breath. "I just wish things would get simpler rather than more complicated."

"That's how life works, Scott. Especially for you."

"Yeah," mumbled Scott. "Tell me about it."

The mumbled and the agonizing pain etched on Scott's face convinced Dr. Deaton there was more going on behind those brown eyes.

"Is that all that's bothering you Scott?"

Scott flicked his eyes up to his boss. Then, let out murmured. "Peter Hale is back."

Dr. Deaton didn't seem surprised, but a look of alertness was present in his eyes. "I see," said the vet. "Did he come for you?"

Scott nodded his head. "Yeah, he asked me to side with him."

"What did you say?"

"No."

Dr. Deaton took a long moment to himself. "I'm not surprised that he managed to come back beyond the grave."

"You mean you knew he would do it?"

Dr. Deaton shook his head. "No, but I knew it was possible. Power hungry people don't give up, Scott. That's what makes them monsters."

"So, he is going to try to kill us," mumbled Scott and Dr. Deaton looked away.

"I'm sorry Scott," he said.

"What I don't get is," continued Scott, who didn't hear Dr. Deaton, "why did he ask me to join him again? I tried to kill him! We succeeded in killing him."

Dr. Deaton shrugged. "I don't know. Possible attachment since you were his first bitten werewolf. Possibly think he owns you since he bit you."

"He doesn't own me," growled Scott.

"I'm just listing out theories," said Dr. Deaton, lingering a moment at Scott's face before glancing about the room. "Listen, Scott, I think you've done enough today. Maybe you ought to go home. Get a good night's rest before school tomorrow. I'll close up tonight."

Scott rubbed his face, his eyes weary. "With everything going on right now," he said. I doubt I will be able to sleep. I could barely sleep last night. When Peter mentioned my dad—."

Dr. Deaton snapped his attention to Scott. "What?"

Scott jumped back by Dr. Deaton's sharp tone. "I, um, Peter Hale. Mentioned—He said something about my dad being proud of me."

Dr. Deaton's face turned grave. Suddenly, his shoulders drooped low. He rubbed his forehead as if received a headache pang. For a moment, the two didn't speak to each other. Scott heard his boss's heart beat faster. He looked somewhat devastated then as if someone laid a guilt blanket on him.

Scott walked around the examine table. "Why? Did he know him? Did Peter know my dad?"

Dr. Deaton dropped a hand onto Scott's shoulder. "Scott," he said. "I think it's about time you know the truth."

Scott was puzzled. "The truth?"

"Yes," said Dr. Deaton, pulled two chairs together and gesturing Scott to take a seat. "The truth about you and who you are."