When the sheriff left his house it had been late in the evening. He drove around aimlessly for awhile before he found himself at the station. He sat in the parking lot for a long time just mulling things over. As scary as it was to learn all that Stiles had gotten himself into, there was a bit of relief, as odd as it may sound. Danger aside, Stiles wasn't really losing his mind and he thought that maybe...just maybe, things would return to somewhat normal.

He missed actually being able to know his son. After Claudia died it was hard to think he still had to live. It just seemed impossible without her. But he did...for Stiles. There were a lot of rough patches but they got through it...together. So when Stiles became even more sneaky, or actually sneaky, because before he could guess with full accuracy as to what Stiles was up to.

So all the secrecy hurt. Then you add in all the actual danger his son had been getting into right under his own nose and it just makes things worse. He was supposed to protect Stiles and here he comes to learn Stiles has come close to dying one too many times!

Stiles had promised no more lies...and it seemed like that was a lie. While cleaning up the murdered victims of whatever had passed through Beacon Hills this time, he had caught sight of Derek Hale and his posse of rag tag team he calls a pack. He hadn't seen Stiles directly but the way things seemed to have worked were that where one was, the others couldn't be too far behind.

It was one thing to think his son, his only son, was running around with a (cleared) potential murder suspect and involved with things like...under age sex or drugs or something normally violent, but the whole supernatural thing? That was too much some days.

No matter how many times he reminds himself, or sees it, he can't fully accept it. And it makes him feel tired. Makes him feel old. Older.

So he did a cowardly thing. Rather than stay and discuss matters with his son like a responsible parent should do, he ran. He got into his car and drove and really...he won't be going back for a while. He turns off his cruiser and heads inside. He gets odd looks but his face must have said enough because no one bothers him. He makes it to his office and locks himself inside. He sits on his chair and forces himself to close his eyes. Forces himself to not think. Forces himself to avoid the world and it's craziness...just for a few hours.

.:~*~:.

Somehow he'd fallen asleep. He had a kink in his neck and his back hurts, but he had gotten some sleep. He wiped the drool from his mouth on his sleeve and stretched, letting his muscles pop. Blinking the sleep out of his eyes he grabbed his keys and head out.

Again no one told him anything other than the casual 'good morning sheriff', which he was thankful for. Though he was sure rumors and whispers would begin and spread. Small town drama and all that.

Getting into his car he began to drive again. Home however was not his destination. He was feeling rebellious and a bit indignant. So he pulled up to one of his favorite diners, not caring how he must look like after a night sleeping in his chair and sat down and ordered a big ol' American breakfast. Pancakes, eggs, bacon...the works!

He finished it on his own pace, dragging a bit, and even stayed for a third cup of coffee.

After he could no longer lie to himself about the fact that he was stalling and trying to delay going home, he paid and walked back out to his cruiser.

"Sheriff?"

He turned to the caller of his title and saw that it was Isaac. Nodding to the boy he gave a stiff, "Morning." he wasn't all too cheery, even if he had had real bacon for the first time in a long time.

"H-hey...um...h-how's Stiles?" the boy asked, causing the sheriff to raise an eyebrow in question. Maybe the kid knew Stiles was in trouble for lying to him again? Maybe he felt guilty about getting him in trouble? Or at least guilty that the sheriff had found out.

"At home most likely. And in trouble. I don't care how many superhero movies he watches. He's not a hero and I don't appreciate him getting into danger like that. Or lying to me about it. He should have come to me when you all decided to go after whoever was killing these people!" he lashed out some of the anger he had felt over this situation.

It was the look of confusion on Isaac's face that settled the first knot in his stomach of something really being wrong with today. The second one came when Isaac spoke, "Stiles wasn't involved in that..."

"What?" the sheriff demanded as if Isaac had spoken in some odd language he didn't understand.

"Derek sensed that whatever it was that was out there was too dangerous. He didn't want..." looking around to make sure no one was listening, but still speaking in a lower voice, "non-wolves involved cos this thing was just...off. I...I mostly saw Stiles at school and well...I just...is he okay?" Isaac blurted out the last part as if he couldn't contain himself and sounded small, like a little kid.

The sheriff however didn't notice much of Isaac's turmoil as he sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. His defiant breakfast sitting heavily in his stomach. He'd yelled at Stiles. Accused him of lying and breaking his trust. And his son was innocent.

Opening his eyes again to see Isaac looking at him with these huge wounded puppy eyes, he shook his head to try and clear it of his thoughts. "I need to go."

He headed back towards his cruiser but stopped when Isaac's voice rang out, voice slightly panicky and if he wasn't in a hurry to get home and check on Stiles, he would have been concerned. "He's alright, isn't he?"

He should have said yes. Of course Stiles was alright. He had to be. He couldn't deal with any alternative to that statement. And yet...

"Stay out of trouble."

As he drove home his last words to his son echoed loudly in his mind.

.:~*~:.

Stiles was in the kitchen preparing dinner for himself and his father then the sheriff walked into the house. He gave a tired sigh that Stiles has come to recognize as the one that meant the day had been far too long for a mere 24 hours. He smiled sympathetically and was going to go into the fridge to see what not so healthy treat he could serve his dad to make him feel better.

"Stiles." his father's voice was hard and a bit cold.

Stiles shut the fridge as his back tense. He hated that voice. It was never good when his father used that voice. He was almost always in trouble when that voice was used. He tried to think that he had done to upset his father but it was hard to recall anything. All he could think about was the three months he had been with the Doctor. Running from monsters, saving people, seeing things no one will probably ever see. With all those marvels, he can't really remember if he forgot to do the laundry or take out the trash, because really , he had saved civilizations! One night of forgetting to take out the trash wasn't really worth that voice!

"Yeah, dad?" he called out and went to meet his father in the living room. Looking at his father he knew that today was not going to be a good day. But like always, he tried to lighten the mood, "Hey daddy-o. The scum of Beacon Hills driving you up the wall?"

"We had a deal." was how his father replied.

"Excuse me?" Stiles asked, more confused than he was a moment ago.

"You're still going to lie? What's the point, I was going to find out eventually."

"O...kay. I think we need to take a step back so we're all on the same page. Or hell, even the same book because I have no idea what you're talking about. Is this about the garbage cos if it is, it's no biggie, really. I'll to take it out now if you want. No harm, no foul."

"Stiles!" his dad stressed and he promptly shut up. That was real anger in his father's voice. He would get chided a lot sure, but there was rarely anger. Mostly just tiredness. Stiles swallowed thickly but remained quiet, shoulders slumped and arms crossed over his chest as he tried to hide himself.

"Answer me!" the sheriff demanded.

"What do you want me to say? I don't know what you're talking about!" Stiles cried as he flailed his arms around.

"I'm talking about whatever was killing my people that's my job to protect! The one you didn't think I should know about! The one that you and that...that...pack apparently took care of without informing the proper authority!" his father cried.

Stiles froze. He remembered the Doctor talking briefly about something but after a look around, saw nothing and with wanting to show Stiles the past and the future, they hadn't really over thought it. But now it seemed like people had died. People were in danger and his friends had done something about it...without him.

"I didn't know..." Stiles says quietly.

"Don't lie to me...you said you wouldn't lie anymore." his father said as he looked at him with this disappointed look that made Stiles' chest ache horribly. God, he was going to be sick with the pressure and hurt that look was causing him.

"I'm not lying! I didn't know!" Stiles was begging for his father to believe him. He may or may not be able to fix things with his so called friends, but he couldn't mess up more with his dad. He just couldn't.

"Stop lying!" the sheriff cried as he grabbed his hair in desperation and turned away from his son. You could hear him losing control...you could also start to see it and Stiles was becoming frightened.

"Dad I swear I didn't know!" Stiles insisted.

"Enough!...just...enough. I thought we had an understanding but I guess...I guess we don't. Go to your room...I...I can't do this right now." and without letting Stiles add in anything, he turned and went outside.

.:~*~:.

As he got closer to the house a lot of things went through his mind aside from the memories of last night. Thoughts of before when the most he had to worry about was making sure he could give Stiles the education he'll need after high school. Or how their biggest crisis, and he used that term loosely, would be Stiles having a sexual identity episode. Not that it would matter because so long as whoever his son chose loved cared for him, whatever their genitalia turned out to be was Stiles' concern when they were behind closed doors. He thought of his son in general. How even though he was a hassle, how even though he was extra work for a single parent, he was still his baby.

And now all he could see was the confusion and hurt in his baby's eyes from yesterday.

His son had been honest. He'd been trying.

And he'd jumped to conclusions and ruined everything.

Yeah, he wasn't ever eating anything remotely unhealthy anytime in the near future. That all American breakfast was making feel nauseated.

His cruiser slowed down as he approached his house that was now in view. Out of all he had expected this was one of it's worse case scenarios. Not even stopping in front of his own house, he put the cruiser in park and ran to his house. A firetruck in their driveway with two cruisers.

He found Parrish on the front porch speaking in hush tones with a fireman as he ran up.

"Sheriff," the young deputy greeted. His demeanor was tight and careful.

"What's going on?" the sheriff demanded as he tried to get a view of his house, "Where's Stiles?"

"Your fire alarm went off. Neighbors heard it and saw a bit of smoke and called it in. It being your house, sir, we came as soon as we could. Seems someone left something cooking." the sheriff's eyes grew wide and the fireman was quick to reply with, "No harm done. I mean the food was ruined and you may not be able to use that pot again but other than some smoke, that was all that was going on in the kitchen..." the way he talked suggested there was more he wanted to say but couldn't bring himself to do so.

So the sheriff looked expectantly as his deputy. His mind was tired and hazy while trying to be alert thanks to his earlier discovery of Stiles' innocence and his own guilt.

The fireman saw the look and excused himself. Deputy Parrish straightened his back and seemed to be mentally bracing himself.

"Well?" the sheriff demanded.

"I...sir...we can't find Stiles."

The Sheriff stared at his deputy, the words not registering in his mind. He blinked several times as he looked at the younger man who was squirming under his intense gaze. He licked his lips, idly realizing they were very dry. Without a word he moved past the deputy and stalked into the house. Ignoring everyone who was...invading his and his son's home, and marched up to his son's room.

What he was greeted with stole the breath from his lungs. Alarms rang in his head, dread creeped into every fiber of his being, his chest ached horribly with pain, and the guilt, oh the guilt, it was devouring him from the deepest pit in his stomach.

He barely made it to the tipped over trash bin as he threw up the contents of his breakfast.

Parrish ran to his side when he heard the thud of the sheriff's fall and then the wrenching. "Sheriff!"

"Jeep..." the sheriff's throat was burning and his voice was rough, but none of that mattered, "Where's his jeep?"

"It was gone when we got here. So were his keys." Parrish answered as he helped the older man to his feet.

The sheriff nodded as he steadied himself and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. Without another word again, he began to make his way downstairs, Parrish hot on his heels.

"Put out an APB and AMBER alert on Stiles and his jeep." the sheriff ordered as he dug a bit maniacally into his pockets for his keys before he remembered he left his cruiser running.

"Whoa! Where are you going, sir?"

"To look for my son," stated the obvious.

Parrish looked torn for a moment before he dug into his own pockets and tossed his cruiser keys to his partner who nodded in understanding. The younger man then ran and got into the passengers side of the sheriff's cruiser. "I'm going with you...I...we don't know what happened. This is law 101 and you're too involved. I know I can't keep you from looking for Stiles, but I'm gonna be with you as you look. Two pairs of eyes are better than one, right?"

The sheriff only spared a quick, hard glare before he agreed. Two pairs of eyes were better than one and right now he didn't give a damn how many people he had to babysit him so long as he was out looking for his baby. His baby that he hurt.

Images of Stiles' room flashed before his eyes and all he could see was anger. As angry as he was yesterday for thinking Stiles had lied to him again, Stiles was angrier at not being believed.

.:~*~:.

When Isaac lost sight of the cruiser he took off in a run. He really didn't care if he used some of his supernatural wolf speed to get him there. The scent of guilt and regret had come off in drowning waves off of the sheriff. He whimpered as he ran, his inner wolf in a fit, wanting to make sure Stiles was alright.

The sheriff never answered his question. And from what he had gathered, Stiles had gotten into trouble because of them.

His wolf howled in his mind and heart. A painful howl of sorrow and guilt because Stiles was pack and pack was supposed to be there to protect one another and this felt like a betrayal. It was only made worse as he remembered the reasons as to why he had approached the sheriff in the first place. He was on his way home from practice when he smelled Stiles' scent.

.:~*~:.

He hadn't seen Stiles in the meetings for some time and even though they went to school together, that didn't seem to make a difference. The scent that had become Stiles scent also bugged him.

Stiles, who once smelled like body wash, medicine, and his own reserved scent that Isaac had somehow and without knowing, associated it with home, now smelled...bad. Not bad as in rotten but...Stiles shouldn't smell like that. It was like...defeat and misery but giving way to nothingness. Stiles scent was turning into a void and it sent Isaac and his wolf into a frenzy. He momentarily lost control and began to shift as his wolf demanded to be freed to run to his packmate and comfort them.

With effort, Isaac reeled the wolf back under control and approached Stiles and called out tentatively. "Stiles..."

Stiles stiffened and began to pack his things up in a hurry. Seemed like he had been studying or doing work out in the open, away from home or prying eyes. His scent changed to add in a bit of hate. Not annoyance or distaste but real, burning hatred that made Isaac recoil and whimper quietly.

But he wouldn't be deterred. Stiles pointedly ignored him as he shrugged his backpack over his shoulder and headed to his jeep. Isaac, wanting answers, ran and cut him off. Stiles' stare was a bit shocked but it turned cold with a tinge of anger. He remained quiet though. Breathing deeply from his nose he racked his brain for what to ask before he settled with stating, "You weren't at practice."

"Like I'm missed." Stiles answered bitterly as he tried to move around the werewolf to get into his jeep.

"You are." Isaac said with as much conviction as he could. And maybe he wasn't talking about practice as much as he meant the pack meetings. And maybe he wasn't talking about everyone else as much as he meant him. He missed Stiles. Stiles had been a constant in the pack, at school, in his new life as a werewolf. Now that he wasn't there, his space remained vacant and he could feel the void in the back of his mind and it bugged him. Werewolves were both man and wolf, but a lot of the times people just associate them with mostly as wolves. Hell, even they think themselves mostly as wolves than human...but they still were. And Stiles was the best representation of that. A reminder of a stronger version of what they were, of what they were meant to protect now that they were more than just human. Stiles was his Querencia, his Saudade, his Hiraeth.

Lost in his little epiphany he was just having about just how much Stiles means to him he didn't see the pained look that crossed the other teens face. Didn't see when the pain turned to exhaustion and settled on just tired.

"Leave me alone, Isaac."

Isaac blinked up when he heard that tone. He's heard it plenty times before. It was a tiredness voice of someone who just gave up. Someone who didn't have purpose. Who was falling and was just waiting for the fall to hit and shatter him. That was his voice for what seemed an eternity as he lived with his father.

"I..." he swallowed thickly. He didn't really have a script for this. "Want to come over?" he blurted out and he and Stiles locked into a bit of a stare down. Isaac's eyes like that of a scared child, pleading, and full of emotion. Stiles' once expressive eyes were dull. That's it. Just...void. Isaac didn't like it. At all! So he began to elaborate, "We can finish our homework and then get some food? My treat. And-"

"Stop!" Stiles held up his hand and closed his eyes. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he let out a breath trying to keep his patience. "Just...let me get into my car and leave me alone."

"No..." Isaac said slowly, shaking his head to add conviction, as he straightened his back and stood firmly between Stiles and his jeep.

"Look Lahey, I'm not in the mood so will you just move out of the way?" Stiles demanded. "If Scott's too busy with his head up Allison's ass to pay attention to you right now, I'm sure you can go pester Derek or Erica or anyone else because no one can seemingly turn down your bouncy curls and pretty blue eyes. Need help studying? Go find Lydia. Need anything, there is always someone out there better than me that makes better company. I get it! The Swedish supermodel rule wins here. Your blonde hair, blue eyes, perfected body with werewolf senses, and that sweeter than honey persona you have...I get it, you're perfect! Well, I don't have anyone else for you to steal so if you can just do me the favor and leave me the fuck alone to rot and fester in my worthlessness, that'd be great! I don't need to be reminded how I was replaced by my supposed best friend for a better model that I can't ever match up with!"

Stiles stood there panting, tears of anguish, hurt, and anger staining his cheeks before he wiped at them angrily. His nails leaving scratch marks across his face as he did, and shoved his way past Isaac. The blonde had been so shocked by the other's words that he had moved enough to let Stiles through and into his vehicle.

By the time he got his senses back, Stiles was gone. He bit his lip hard as he thought of what to do. Go after the distraught teen and try to make up for all the feelings he seemingly has caused. Or give the other some time.

He decided to let Stiles cool off so when he saw him next he would stand a chance to remotely get to talk with him. In the mean time he thought over all that Stiles had said and all that he could say to make it up to him.

He wanted to deny Stiles accusations but thinking back...when was the last time they had actively included Stiles? When was the last time Scott had set time aside for his childhood friend? Or mentioned him? And not just Scott, but anyone else too. Stiles was important to the pack, he was!

He had to fix this. He had to fill the void that Stiles' absence left and that only could be filled by Stiles himself.

.:~*~:.

When he arrived on Stiles' block he easily heard the rise in activity very close to said human's house. Going the long way around and being super careful, he finally saw what was going on. Instantly his heart began to race with fear and panic.

It wasn't odd for there to be cruisers there, it was the sheriff's house, but why were the firemen there too?

Taking a whiff of the air he smelled something burnt. It made his nose twitch. Stiles' cooking was always delicious and amazing and he loved it when he brought something over. It just enforced that caring feeling he always felt when around Stiles. His wolf loved the caring attention Stiles gave them, nurturing them and feeding them with food that was meant for the gods! Okay maybe he was exaggerating but only by a bit.

He strained his ears to see what he could hear.

"-still missing, huh?"

There was a sigh, "Yeah. They're checking the school and local hang outs but no sign of it. Neighbors say he might have left last night..."

"He's got a full night ahead of us, huh?"

"He wouldn't run off!"

"Did you see his room? And you've heard what they've said..."

"Just rumor, can't hold that to fact."

"No? $50 says when we find him Hale and his teenage posse will be involved somehow...I just hope we find him alive."

"Did you really have to put that in my head?"

"I'm just saying man...he's at that age. Drugs and whatnot. And hanging out with people like Hale? God knows what sort of shit he'd got the kid on."

"I've seen Stiles...he's an odd kid, yeah, but he's not like that. You've seen how he's about keeping the sheriff on the up and up with his diet. I don't think drugs are related here."

"Then what's your theory, Sherlock?"

"...I ain't gonna lie and say I didn't notice his interactions with Hale. But like I said...Stiles is a good kid. Not the most popular. Attention like that from someone who looks cool like that...I think Stiles was just used, ya know? I mean, kid lost his mom, his dad's working hard protecting this town and trying to make ends meet, a little attention goes a long way at that age..."

"Still didn't hear what you think happened."

"I don't know. Let's stop trying to guess and go and look for him and get the sheriff's son back...alive."

"...yeah. Okay."

Isaac waited until the voices cleared some and though it was extremely risky right now, he couldn't help himself. He climbed through Stiles window and took in the sight of it.

He didn't want to overthink things and get psychological, but considering he goes to therapy to help him with what happened with his father, he did take the psychological route. It was that or the emotional one and right now Stiles probably needed someone emotionally stronger. A room, someone's personal space, was sacred. It was theirs to do with what they will. It was the room that breathe someone's persona into life. Telling others things that the owner of the room may never tell.

And Stiles had destroyed it. Isaac's been around anger enough to know the who and what and why they caused it. From their previous conversation Isaac would jump to the assumption that Stiles was angry at himself as much as he was at the world. He didn't see himself as enough and with whatever sense of self preservation he had left, destroyed the next best thing of himself that he had.

He jumped out the window and ran. Thoughts swirling in his mind. Acts like that often escalated quickly. Stiles was in a dark place and he needed to be saved. He needed his pack...his friends...his family.

Reaching the Hale residence, he didn't slow down or pause and just crashed in and yelled, "DEREK!"

.:~*~:.

The idea to visit Achilles actually happened when they were at least 3000 years into the future. Stiles had made some comparison and the Doctor smiled and made some comment about how it was cute people thought that. Stiles asked about once they were out of danger and safely in the Tardis and merely drifting through time and space as they decided where to go next. Apparently the Doctor had met Achilles previously and helped just as he does with all those he meets.

When they arrived and met the warrior and legend the first thing Stiles said was, "He doesn't look like Brad Pitt."

"I think you mean Brat Pitt doesn't look like Achilles...no matter how muscly they make him." The Doctor replied with a smile as he approached the hero and reintroduced himself. Apparently they'd met while the Doctor had a different face. After a bit of chatter which Stiles suspects was Achilles grilling the Doc to see if it was really him. Then the hero smiled and pulled the Doctor in for a hug and Stiles let out a breath he hadn't know he was holding. It was something he's learned from traveling with the Doctor...you never really know who will be your enemy or who will be your friend.

Achilles showed them around some, this being before the Trojan War, the Doctor had whispered to Stiles. As they talked, the Doctor had wandered off to investigate something and that left him alone with a very good looking Greek hero.

"You have great strength in you, young one, and yet you carry so much doubt," Achilles told him after a brief silence.

Stiles blinked and shook his head vigorously, "I don't think so."

"But you do. Otherwise the Doctor wouldn't have taken you with him. With him, only the strongest, kindest, and wisest heroes get chosen. You should believe in yourself a bit more...there is a tiredness in your eyes...one I've only seen in other warriors who have been to Hades and back."

Stiles recalled the legend of Achilles and remembered that he was practically invulnerable except for his heel, which his mother had held him by as she bathed him in the River Styx.

"That's easier for you to say...you were raised to be a warrior. You were raised to expect all sorts of crazy and monsters and come out on top! You were raised to be a hero! Me? Yeah, no...I'm not. You're invincible for the most part and that's gotta be really helpful when dealing with things that want to kill you. Me? Yeah, I'm very breakable and weak and annoying and...and human."

"Nearly." Achilles said after another bout of silence. When Stiles wasn't going to reply, he continued, "I was captured by demons as a mere babe and was to be sacrificed to the River of the Dead. Had it not been for the Doctor catching me and pulling me towards safety, I would be dead. Of course bathing in that Styx, as dangerous as it is, does have it's benefits if you survive." Achilles explained.

"But the legends say it was your mother who dipped you in the river to make you stronger," Stiles said, confusion in his voice.

Achilles shook his head, "Tis what the Doctor had others believe. My mother had been raised on stories from the Doctor, so when I was kidnapped and the gods didn't answer her prayers, she prayed to him. And he came through. The Doctor listens to the loudest cries that call for help...when everyone else ignores those cries, be it family or comrades, and even the gods themselves, it's the Doctor who replies. Whatever reason you have to call on him, it was no mistake. No chance. No fluke. It was written in the stars...and trust me when I say this...those that travel with the Doctor are the greatest heroes to ever live."

Stiles eyes shone as tears swelled in them at the words. It'd only been two weeks since he left home for what he thought was for good but it was still a fresh wound. In the quieter moments he believed he still wasn't important enough to be the one having these adventures and maybe the Doctor had made a mistake. But here he was...still venturing through time and space. Swallowing thickly, he closed his eyes as a few tears fell and memorized the Greek Hero's words. He wasn't a fluke. He deserved this.

Achilles removed a necklace from his neck and passed it over. "I wish for you to have this."

Stiles accepted the necklace and inspected it. It was coin…overly sized, but a coin nonetheless. Though…it was nothing like what he's seen before. There were sketches and markings on it as well.

"Tis a talisman. It was gifted to me when I was but a young lad. An old warrior passing by had fallen due to thirst. I fetched him some water and he was most grateful at my kindness but also saw a great deal of power within my soul. He said it held the spirit, courage, and honor of many great men who were at one time lost and unsure of themselves. And when you see such a man, to pass it, and the characteristics it held to that lost soul who needed it. I can see you are lost now Stiles, and with the Doctor I do not doubt you will have many challenges awaiting you. So please, keep this as a token to remind you that even though the night comes forth and shrouds you with cold, bitter darkness, the sun has not been vanquished."

Stiles held on to the talisman tightly to his chest before donning it on and meeting the warrior's gaze with his own. He nodded and glad that when he spoke his voice didn't shake, "Thank you. I'll remember this every time I feel lost or uncertain. I...Thank you…really."

Achilles nodded and placed a hand on Stiles' shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. The Doctor then called him over and they were gone again.

.:~*~:.

Stiles yawned as he watched the Doctor fiddle with the console, "Where are we going next?"

"Dunno yet...thinking of what I want to show you. There is just so much! But while I figure it out, why don't you go get some rest?" the Doctor suggested.

On cue, Stiles yawned again and nodded. "Right...still in the same room?"

The Doctor smiled, "Your Avengers poster signed by Robert Downey Jr. is still there."

Stiles' smile grew wide, remembering when he got that, "Well in that case, yeah...I'll go snooze for a while." he patted his pockets and asked, "Have you seen my phone?"

"Huh?" the Doctor looked up from his controls and said, "No, but I'll keep a look out for it. Go to sleep. It'll turn up."

Stiles nodded and began to make his way to his room when the Doctor made a noise and jumped out of his seat.

"Oh! Nearly forgot." he ran up to Stiles and placed something in his palm.

Stiles looked at what was placed in his hand before looking up at the Doctor with a confused face. "It's a key..."

"Ah...not just any key. It's the key to the Tardis. Since it'll be your home now, I figured..." the Doctor shrugged, "It's your copy. Don't lose it, don't give it to anyone. Understand?"

Stiles nodded vigorously and put it on and tucked it under his shirt as it laid next to his talisman that Achilles gave him.

"Good lad. Now, off you go. Get some sleep. Who knows what sort of beasty we'll have to run from next time we land. You'll need your rest!" The Doctor said happily. Stiles' laughter bounced off the corridors as he went.

The Doctor waited until Stiles was in his room and waited even more until he was confident Stiles was asleep before digging into his pocket and pulling out Stiles' phone.

He read through the text messages before deleting them. Then he heard the voice mails before deleting those too.

"Stiles...son...I...I know you're angry. You have every right to be. I messed up, I know...but please just pick up. Call me. Just tell me you're alright. Please."

"Stiles?! It's Isaac, please pick up. Tell us where you are, please. We need to know. Call me. Call anyone in the pack. We'll be waiting...your pack is waiting."

"I don't know where you are but pick up the phone. I don't...look, I know we don't have the best relationship but this is not something I'm happy with okay? Call me back when you get this." (Derek)

"Stiles, bro! Isaac and Derek are freaking out...I sorta am too. They said you did that to your own room. I don't know if I want to believe it or not, but I don't like the idea of you having been kidnapped either. Call me, yeah?" (Scott)

The rest of the messages where like that too. All different levels of worry and crudeness. The Doctor was a bit happy that these people cared for Stiles after all, but hated that it was this what it took for them to begin to notice how much Stiles meant to their lives.

If Stiles ever realized he did this he may be angry at the Doctor but he needed to heal before he even thinks about going back. Stiles is still too broken to go back right now. And these people need to evaluate what they're feeling right now a lot more before the Doctor deems it right for them to reenter Stiles' life.

.:~*~:.

~One week after Stiles' disappears~

The sheriff rubbed his tired eyes as he poured himself another cup of coffee and went over more reports dealing with his son's disappearance. He's grilled Hale and even Scott but it seems all of them have no clue as to where his son may be and are just as distraught by the turn of events. But he cares little for their feelings. What he cares about is finding his son!

Derek and his pack were in his house after hours of patrol. They were tired but also sure that Stiles wasn't in Beacon Hills anymore. So they had to rendezvous and come up with a new strategy to find their missing friend. They were tired, cranky, wrecked with nerves and guilt. There had been plenty of accusations and blaming.

TV's were on in both the station as well as the Hale residence, though mostly as background noise to keep the silence at bay. But they turned their attentions to it when the breaking news bulletin appeared on the screen.

"The rangers doing their weekly rounds found the wreck after hikers called in with tips about smoke in areas not regulated for camping. Upon inspection it was found that a blue jeep had driven off of the mountain. The crash left the vehicle nearly indescribable. There is no word yet about the driver...but from what we saw of the wreckage...hope is very slim." the local news reporter of the town two towns over, explained.

Sirens blared loudly as the sheriff's police cruiser raced, joined by howls in the wooded areas, also heading towards the same direction. One name, one prayer, on multiple minds.

"Please Stiles...be okay!"

I know the summary didn't make sense for a while. I was trying to make it all make sense with the limited amount of characters they let me. I thought I had covered it all but apparently removing the spaces between the word and it's period erases some of the word so I know for a moment it looked like gibberish. Please forgive me. I think it's okay now though...