Beacon Hills was a large town set in quiet northern California. It was surrounded by country and wilderness and had a large reserve that spanned across miles of woods. It wasn't all that interesting of a place, with the most exciting thing being the movie theater that showed all the newest films. Over all, it wasn't where Dean would have wanted to settle down in permanently in any lifetime. The only reason he did though, was because of the high death rate. Highest one the county. Most of them were animal related deaths, or other things one would consider a freak of nature or an accident. Dean, being the seasoned hunter he was, knew it was something supernatural, which was why he chose this town to live. If Sam wanted him out of the hunting life, so be it. He couldn't help it if the hunt came to him though. That wasn't what he told Cas though.
"Dean, have you seen the recent headlines from the local paper?" Cas piped up, looking down at the news paper in his hands. They were moving boxes into their new house, which was fairly small but not horribly so. It was what they could afford, and Cas had stopped to pick up the old paper that had been sitting on the driveway for who knows how long when he paused for a break from moving.
"No," Dean answered, lifting one of the bigger boxes and heading toward the front door. "Why?"
"Because most of them are about local deaths," he reported, still reading the paper. "Are you sure this is a good place to raise a child?" Cas asked suspiciously, narrowing his blue eyes at his husband, who had disappeared inside to put the box away. Dean returned a moment later and offered a simple shrug, feigning innocence. Cas however could see right through the ex-hunter.
"Dean," he sighed, defeated.
"What? You can't expect me to just give up hunting entirely," Dean countered defensively, crossing his arms. "I figured this place would be a good transition for us. We can still hunt the little stuff. This town seems to be riddled with it after all. It won't be anything we can't handle."
Cas could only glare at him, unable to argue because he knew the man was too stubborn to listen to reason.
"Plus we've already bought the house and we're halfway moved in," Dean added. Castiel rolled his eyes, he REALLY couldn't argue with that logic.
"Alright," he sighed again. Then grabbing a box himself and heading towards the house, he changed the topic. "So how are we doing with the legal papers?" He asked, referring to process they were still going through to be able to foster a child together. It wasn't easy either, considering neither of them really existed in the eyes of the law, seeing as Dean was officially dead and Castiel wasn't even a human, but in a human known as Jimmy Novak who had gone missing years ago and whose soul now resided in heaven.
"Almost done," Dean said, a smile creeping into his voice. "Just need to fill out the last bits and then we get to have a little gremlin running around the house." Cas knew Dean was trying to down play it, but he knew the man was ecstatic about getting a kid. He was great with them after all, as he had shown many times before. Cas however was terrified. He didn't know the first thing about child care. The one time he had tried, it hadn't exactly ended well. So the idea of raising a kid with Dean was both exciting, and extremely terrifying. He hadn't exactly voiced these thoughts to Dean, but it seemed he didn't have to, as Dean seemed to notice his dilemma, seeing as he bumped his shoulder playfully.
"Hey, we'll be okay," Dean promised, seating the box in his hands down on the kitchen table. "I'll be with you every step of the way."
Castiel felt himself smile at that, crinkles forming in the corners of his eyes. "I just don't want to mess this up," he said.
"Cas," Dean sighed, a smile pulling at his lips. "We've stopped the apocalypse, we've fought leviathans, demons, angels, you name it. And we always came out the other side." Dean stopped to chuckle for a moment. "We've literally been to Hell." Then, "We'll be fine."
Cas finally looked up into his husbands vividly green eyes. He remembered the first time he'd seen them, and how he had fallen so quickly for them. He loved dean so much, so he couldn't help but believe his husband's little speech. Castiel smiled. "Just as long as you're with me."
Dean smiled, then pulled him into a long, passionate kiss.
The funeral had been a large affair. All of the officers who had worked with Stiles' dad had chipped in enough for a decent funeral, and practically the whole station came. Scott and his mother had also come, accompanied by an awkward Isaac. Stiles knew the boy was still living with his friend, but he wasn't going to hold it against him if he hadn't come. The werewolf had hardly known his dad after all. Stiles didn't cry once when people were giving their eulogies, nor when they were lowering the casket into the ground. It had been a closed casket funeral, for modesties sake, so he didn't even get the chance to see his father face one last time before he was buried six feet under the ground. But even so, he didn't cry.
The reception afterwards was held at Stiles' house. It was packed to the brim with grieving people, and they kept coming up to Stiles and telling him how sorry they were. But he didn't want them to be sorry! He just wanted his dad back.
He barely remembered that day two weeks ago when Parrish had come to the school. He remembered the sinking feeling in his stomach, and how it felt like the world had stopped and disappeared beneath his feet, but nothing else from that day. According to Scott, he'd had one of the worst panic attacks his friend had ever seen, and aided by Parrish, Kira, and Lydia, had helped get him out of the hallway and to somewhere more privet, away from the eyes of their classmates. It had taken him an hour to calm down, and by then he was just babbling nonsense. About his dad, his mom, Allison, and basically everyone who'd ever left him. Stiles couldn't recall saying a thing though.
The week after had gone by slowly, and at the same time, way too fast. Scott and his mom had let him stay at their place, because he just couldn't go home. Isaac had offered him his room, but Stiles had declined, accepting Scotts invitation to sleep with him in his room. It should have been awkward, seeing that two guys don't normally share a bed unless something else is going on, but Stiles didn't care. Neither did Scott, it seemed, and for that, Stiles was immensely grateful. It also helped when he woke up screaming after a nightmare.
He hadn't been to school for the past two weeks either. Thankfully Melissa had called ahead and explained the situation so the school wouldn't be breathing down his neck. You'd think they'd have a bit more pity for someone who just lost their parent, but no. Not really.
Scott had stayed with him for the first day, never leaving his side unless it was for the bathroom or getting him food, which he didn't eat anyway. But he was back to school by Friday, at his mother's insistence. But Stiles couldn't stay with them forever he knew. It was hard enough for Melissa to stay afloat with the two teens living in her house already, and adding a third, now traumatized teen, wouldn't go very well. So now he was faced with life in the system. A thought he really didn't want to dwell on. He'd heard stories about how kids in the foster system were abused, and how they were more likely to revert to crime or drop out of high school. That wasn't something he wanted, but there was no one else that could take him. And he'd already asked.
Shaking off his thoughts, Stiles brushed past an old couple that had tried to give their condolences and made his way into the upstairs bathroom and shut the door after him, locking it before falling down onto the closed toilet. He had been holding back his emotions for over two week now, and he couldn't do it any longer. He just wanted to be alone, but that was hard to do at a funeral. To be away from everyone who kept asking if he was okay. No he wasn't okay! He had already lost one parent, and now the other one had been taken from him. One that he knew was dying, and one who was gone in the blink of an eye. It wasn't fair, this shouldn't be happening, how was he going to-
Stiles' train of thought stopped abruptly as he realized he was on the verge of a panic attack. He had let himself have one when he had gotten the news. And of course it had been in front of all of his classmates, but they probably wouldn't hold it against him, even if he had been a sobbing mess clinging to the deputy like a child. But now, no one was here now. For the past week he had been constantly surrounded by people, so he couldn't let himself break down. But it would be so easy to right now, to just let it all out, to succumb to the raw emotion still boiling inside him.
"Stiles?"
Stiles looked up at the door sucking in a breath of surprise and wiping his eyes. He had started crying sometime while he sat, unsurprisingly.
"Stiles, come on, open up." It was Scott standing outside. He didn't sound worried or overly concerned, he was just there.
Stiles hesitated for a moment, not sure if he wanted company yet.
"If you don't open up, I'm going to break this door down."
Fine, if he wanted to be that way.
Stiles sighed and stood up, opening the door for his friend. "Then you'd have to pay for it, 'cause I'm broke," Stiles said, trying to crack a joke, but his horse voice made it fall flat instead.
Instead of answering, Scott just squeezed his way past him and into the small bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him. The two stood in silence for a moment, neither willing to speak. They had been in this situation before, but then Stiles had had his dad, and he and Scott were only ten, not really old enough to fully understand what was happening. Now though…
Scott ended the tension between by grabbing Stiles and pulling him into a hug. Stiles didn't resist. Scott hadn't hugged him since when he first found out, and by then Stiles had been in full blown panic attack, not really registering anything that was happening to him.
"It's okay, Stiles, I got you," he heard Scott mumble under his breath. Stiles hadn't realized it but he was sobbing into his friends shoulder. He wanted to stop himself, to not embarrass himself further, but Scott didn't seem to care, because he still held him in a tight embrace.
"No it's not," Stiles managed to say. "It's not okay, it'll never be okay. He's gone, dads gone." He drew in a rattling breath. "And I'm trying to be strong, I really am, but I can't do it, Scott, I can't do it." Then after a pause, "I'm not okay Scotty," he whispered, knowing the werewolf could hear him. "I'm not okay. He's gone and I'm not okay!" The sobs broke his sentence at the end, making him hiccup and blubber like a child. Scott just kept holding him.
"You still got me," Scott murmured softly. "I promise I'm not going anywhere."
An hour after their hug fest in the bathroom, Stiles had found his way back downstairs. His throat felt horse from all the crying, and his eyes were red, but then again, so were everyone's here.
He was standing by the kitchen counter, where they were trays of fruits and cheeses that people had hardly touched, when Melissa found him.
"There you are, Stiles," she sighed. "I've been looking for you forever." Stiles glanced up at her, confused, but didn't say anything. "There's a man here to see you, he works for CPS," she explained. Her face betrayed no emotion other than mild concern. Ut then again, she must have had loads of practice, what with being a nurse and all.
"CPS?" Stiles echoed, his voice scratchy.
"Yes, he's here to talk to you about a couple that would be willing to foster you."
That was unexpected. Stiles blinked, surprised, forgetting for a moment his grief. "Already? H-how did they, who- why would-" stiles kept trying to come up with the words to express his shock, but Melissa only shook her head.
"All he said was that there was a couple interested in fostering you and that he'd like to speak with you about it," she informed him. Then, giving his shoulder a comforting squeeze, she said, "They sound like good people if they're willing to do this so soon. I'd suggest you talk with him."
Stiles nodded his head mutely, not sure what to say. Melissa seemed to understand what he wanted though, and said, "He's in the dining room right now. If you want."
Stiles murmured a thank you and found his feet carrying him over to the dining room. His heart was thumping hard against his breast bone, and he understood why. He didn't know whether to feel excited or nervous at the prospect of someone willing to foster him so soon. His case file had just been opened for it, and he wasn't exactly a great kid to want to raise. Either they didn't know what they were getting into, or they wanted the money that would come with him. Either way, it couldn't be that good.
"Ah, Mr. Stilinski," a voice suddenly said. Stiles looked up to see a short, middle aged man with a shock of salt and pepper hair standing by the head of the table in the dining room. He was wearing a suit and had a briefcase with him. Very official looking. "I'm Mr. Ferguson with the Child Protective Services," he introduced, offering a hand to Stiles. He took it reluctantly. "If you would please sit down," he continued, gesturing to the chair opposite him. "I'd like to discuss your future guardianship with you."
Stiles sighed, not wanting to have the conversation, but accepting it had to happen anyway. He took a seat across from him and waited for him to start.
"So," Mr. Ferguson started. "As you're probably aware, your fathers will left no guardian that would take you in in the event of his passing, so we're at a loss of what to do," he started. Stiles had already known that. His dad had meant to update the will when his last would-be guardian passed away two years ago, but he had been so busy with work and Stiles, he had never gotten around to it. "However," he continued. "A couple has approached us with the offer to take you in."
Stiles raised a weary eyebrow. "And how do you know that they don't just want the money?" He asked, bitterness creeping into his voice.
Mr. Ferguson sighed, resigned. "It is an issue that some people would take advantage of this situation for their own benefit," he admitted. "But I assure you, we have run background tests on this couple and nothing out of the ordinary has come up. They seem like great people, and truly have your best interests at heart."
Stiles found that hard to believe. "Then why foster a fucked up kid like me?" He asked bluntly.
"I think that they're looking to adopt a child soon, and probably want experience," he said. "Although I don't think it's the best way to do it, I understand their reasoning."
"So, first time parents just getting in some practice before they get themselves their own kid?" He summarized. Why on earth would they think that's a good idea? And if they did why on earth would they chose Stiles? He was probably the most fucked up orphan in Beacon Hills, maybe even Beacon County. Surely they knew what they were getting into.
"That's only what my thoughts are," The CPS officer explained. "I'm not saying that's how it is."
Sure buddy, whatever you say.
"Fine," Stiles sighed, resisting the very strong urge to role his eyes. "What are their names?"
"Dean and Castiel Winchester."
