Stiles meets Deaton by the underground roots of the Nematon. He's already set up a blanket to sit on and a few unscented beeswax candles for both light and 'energy.' He sits on one side of the blanket, legs and hands folded, patiently awaiting Stiles' arrival. When Stiles reaches the foot of the stairs, he's met with a welcoming and warm smile. Ahh, Deaton, you wonderful bastard.

"Stiles, I was just starting to get worried. Sit, I have a crucial lesson planned for you this week." He motions to the unoccupied space across from him. Stiles obeys him wordlessly, taking a seat across from him and sighing. "What's wrong?"

"Huh?"

"Your mind is troubled, I can tell. The energy in the room just shifted dramatically from comfortable to tense." Stiles sighs and rolls his eyes. "So, may I help?" He takes Stiles' hands in his own, the way they do when they meditate. It's a kind and intimate gesture, but neither ever thinks anything of it. Stiles closes his eyes. "Why don't you tell me what's really on your mind? And can we skip the sarcasm, please?"

Stiles shakes his head. "How the hell can you even tell? Whatever." He rubs his face hard with both hands. "It's...complicated."

"If you haven't noticed by now, Stiles, I'm more than capable at handling 'complicated.' And so are you. So whatever is troubling you must be very heavy to be weighing you down with such force. I think you'll find by sharing with a third party, the pressure will be eased quite dramatically."

He exhales hard. "Okay. Sure. Fine." He pauses. Deaton goes to say something, but Stiles stops him. "It's just... okay. So, I have this friend..." Deaton raises an eyebrow. "Hell, who am I kidding? It's me. I may have...hypothetically gotten myself in too deep with a person, whom I will not name." Deaton raises both hands as if to say 'I'm-not-accusing-you-of-anything.' "They're like absolutely perfect. They make me feel fantastic and leave a sort of brilliantly blazing afterburn... whatever. T-M-I. I'm starting to sink with my schoolwork and got into a fight with my dad about why I'm so inadequate and I just... It's not like I can talk to, you know, Scott about any of this."

"And why is that?

"Because he's all 'True Alpha' now and has werewolf friends and a girlfriend. And then there's just me - stupid, fragile, good-for-almost-nothing me."

"Stiles, I think we've established by now that you're more than useful to the pack. I will not stand by while you stomp all over your self esteem like it's a bug." Deaton gives Stiles a glowing, sincere smile. "So tell me more about this person, the one that gives you butterflies."

More like the one that gives me an everlasting hard-on. "H...they are like straight out of my wildest dreams. We have perfectly opposing personalities. Polar opposites about everything. And they're like, basically a sex god, and I can't stop thinking about them."

"Stiles, you know you can say he, right? I won't judge you."

"Fine, he. He is like a sex god. He is the sexiest person I've ever seen. He is everything I hate and everything I could ever want. And I can't get him out of my mind."

"This has nothing to do with Scott, does it?"

"Oh...oh god no. Ewh - I can't... blech. Scott? A sex god?" He shudders at the thought.

"I don't know, Stiles. There's a lot you wouldn't know about a person until you've been in bed with them."

"Words of wisdom about sex, from Deaton, the mysterious veterinarian-slash-druid."

Deaton laughs like Stiles has never seen before. He's letting loose, his laughter sounding jolly and hearty. "I'm not Gandhi, Stiles, as much as you all would like to think." Stiles gasps sarcastically, his eyes wide, and he slaps both hands to his cheeks. "In all seriousness, I have a few questions - number one, have you told Scott that you're gay?"

"I'm not gay. I'm...just...not. And I don't think I'm bisexual either."

"Okay, so have you told Scott that you're pansexual?"

"Pan...wha?"

"Pansexual. Meaning you can be pretty much attracted to anyone, regardless of their gender, race, or otherwise. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, I get it. Pansexual. And no, I haven't."

"Maybe you should. And I'm guessing you haven't told your father either?"

"I...I tried once. He didn't believe me."

"Try this: sit him down in a quiet setting, with just the two of you in your home. Preface the conversation by saying that you are completely serious and are only looking for his support. Then explain to him what you feel. Simple as that. It all has to do with the setting and the feel of the situation."

"Are you sure you're not Gandhi?" Deaton laughs again. "I'll definitely do that. Hang on."

He pulls his notebook from his bag and scribbles that all down, asking again the definition of pansexual. Deaton repeats himself slowly, then adds, "Just tell him what you feel. He's your father - he's been there with you for some of your purest and more genuine moments of feeling in your life. If you are one-hundred percent honest, and try to convey sincerity, he will undoubtedly believe you." Deaton smiles. "And if he says he doesn't, he's lying. Let him process all of it; you can't expect him to accept something so big in so little time."

"So... any advice on how I should talk to Scott about it?"

"Honestly, I'd say the same thing. It's prudent that you get Scott alone, away from Allison and the rest of the pack, and in a private setting, like your bedroom. Scott has been there for you since when, kindergarten? He's been there for you for all of the genuine moments your father hasn't witnessed, so you can count on him to believe you too. Scott may not understand immediately. Don't expect him to - he may take longer than your father." Stiles scribbles it all down and shoves the notebook aside. He folds his hands on his lap. "Now, I sense there's something about this man that is keeping you from wanting to share your relationship - something more difficult to grasp than his gender."

"I don't know if I'm ready to share that just yet."

"You can tell me when you're ready. Or, you don't have to tell me at all. Whichever is fine by me."

"Thanks, Doc. You're the best."

He laughs. "You're very welcome, Stiles. Now, I'd say 'let's get to work,' but I think you've tapped into your emotions enough this week." Deaton turns around and pulls a bundle from his laptop bag and unwraps it. It's a thick, dark brown, leather-bound book with a symbol of a tree emblazoned in to the cover in a jade green color. "I want to give you this. Have you heard of the term Grimoire?"

Stiles nods. "Isn't it like an Encyclopedia for witches?"

"Not quite. It's their life's work - they detail every encounter they've had with the supernatural and chronicle everything they've learned about being a witch that is important to them. They write in the spells they've written and the potion recipes they've discovered, all for future reference."

"So this - what you're giving me - is a Grimoire?"

"It's an idea that came to me that I think will help you. You handle situations best with reason and by being able to see the whole board - I think writing everything you learn down will help clear up some of your brain fog, while also helping you to remember small things you've forgotten. It's meant to be sort of like the remember-all from Harry Potter." He. Did. Not. "But that's not all it's meant for. I want you to be able to look back on everything you've learned. I want it to be a reminder of fond memories and every trial you've endured. It doesn't all have to be related to the supernatural. You can write in here of love and loss, of grief and can show this to your children or your grandchildren or let your father read through it to help him understand about the supernatural world, whenever you decide it best to introduce him." Nobody has every done anything like this for me. "This book is to a druid as a Grimoire is to a witch. Do you understand?"

Of course, everything Stiles says lacks sincerity and has a sarcastic tone. "Underneath the structure of an SAT question, yeah, I think I get what you're saying. You want me to write what I learn in here so I can look back on it in the future. Just like taking notes so you can study for a test."

"Precisely." He hands the book to Stiles, and it feels like lead in his hands. "I had it custom made by a crone - blessed with moon water and bound by hand. I told her of your personality and your spark, and she constructed each element with you in mind. The etching of the tree inscribed on the front is to symbolize your innate sense of good and evil, and your gift of common sense. Both of which you have more of than anyone - druid, witch, human, or werewolf - that I've ever met." Tears well up in Stiles' eyes. It's such a personal and intimate sentiment. "You're blossoming more and more each day, and I don't want you to think your progress goes unnoticed. Take good care of it, and I think this will prove to be your greatest asset and defense in the future."

"No more spiral-bound notebooks." Deaton nods with a smile. "This...this is beautiful. Th-thank you." Aaaaaaaand the dam that's been holding up so long in Stiles' eyelids bursts. Stiles just stares down at the book, and a tear falls into his lap. Deaton rests a hand on Stiles' forearm, but says nothing. It's comforting how Deaton knows exactly how to console Stiles. Stiles opens the front cover of the book, and on the first page, etched in deep red ink, he reads:

"It is our choices that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities."

- Albus Dumbledore

"All I can say is - th...thank you."

"Contrary to what you may believe true, Stiles, you deserve it.

A/N:

I tried to capture the essence of Deaton's character and his importance as a foil to the individual characters in the show - namely, Stiles, ultimately highlighting their bond. Deaton is like the cool uncle, if you will. I think they'd do well in the show to write more scenes for the two, because I think it'd help develop their characters on a completely different level.

The irony in this chapter is that Stiles doesn't believe anyone can help him - which is why he refuses to see a therapist - but ends up seeking solace in Deaton. Deaton is essentially meant to portray Stiles' counselor, but also acts as an encouraging force that helps Stiles to believe that all is not lost. I think the dynamic is actually rather beautiful.

Chapters 4 and 5 are very deep, so I'll definitely space those ones out. I'll probably post 4 on Tuesday and 5 on Friday, or something along those lines. Leave me comments/kudos/whathaveyou to let me know how I'm doing so far! You're input is really appreciated.