A/N1: I usually wouldn't do this, but I feel a need to reply to the few rather aggressively negative guest reviewers. You are all entitled to your own opinions and I'm fine with you not liking my stuff, but for crying out loud; grow a pair and log into an account so I can reply to you personally instead of here!

The fact that Stiles didn't hit the principal back seems to get a rise out of you, but I disagree that he would do that. Stiles is smart and would know and understand that punching a grown man (wielding a freaking paddle!) would most likely get him arrested and thrown in jail, which would in turn make it damn near impossible to get back to 2012.

Had this story been set in 2012 the principal would have been doing something illegal and Stiles would never have submitted to it, imo. I think he would have walked away after making some smart ass comment. If a teen took a swing at him, yes, Stiles would probably hit him back, and rightfully so, but teachers and parents smacking the bejesus out of you in 1957 is a different story.

A/N2: To all you awesome people leaving great (guest) reviews, thank you so much. I'm glad you like the story so far, and keep those reviews coming, haha, they make my day :)

Stiles stole a glance at his mom when he helped set the table. A warmth blossomed from deep within him and he suddenly felt like crying. The thought of ever losing her all over again made him sniffle and Claudia looked at her son.

"Are you crying?"

Stiles shook his head.

"Nah, my butt just bumped into something," he said and cleared his throat.

"Well, that serves you right," his mom said sternly, "if you ever hit Scott again and cause and attack like the one he had today I'll wallop you myself!"

Stiles let out a little snort at the thought of his rather petite mother whooping him, and instead tried focusing on placing the forks and knives on the table.

"You're doing it wrong," Claudia fussed and rearranged the cutlery.

Before placing the last fork she flipped it around and thumped Stiles on the head while sending him a warm smile.

"Do you have to tell dad?" Stiles asked, "I mean, nothing really bad happened and he'll just go completely mental."

"Mental? What does that mean?"

"You know, lose his shi-get really mad," Stiles quickly changed his words when he saw the horror in his mother's eyes.

"Stiles," Claudia said and tilted her head a little, "you know your dad and I don't keep secrets from one another. I have to tell him."

Stiles sighed and turned his head as the front door opened.

"Honey, I'm home," a voice called from the hall and Claudia raised a brow at Stiles, as if preparing him for the coming outburst of anger.

-xxx-

"Get your elbows off the table, Stiles," his mother scolded gently, and Stiles removed his arms with a little grunt.

"So, how was school today, son?" his dad asked and Stiles nearly dropped his fork, "did you make it in time?"

"Uh, almost..."

"Hmm," the sheriff huffed, "and what did Mr. Harris think about that? Wasn't this the third time you were late in just a few weeks?"

John stared hard at Stiles, who squirmed a little in his seat.

"Yeah, apparently," he said with a little eye roll, "he-uh-wasn't too happy, I guess. But you know, he's Harris, so when is he ever happy?!"

"He values punctuality and discipline, Stiles, and so should you!"

Stiles didn't say anything, but just looked down.

"How was your day, darling?" John then asked Claudia and Stiles gulped down a huge sip of water.

"It was quite nice, dear," she answered and wiped her mouth with a napkin, "at least until I received a phone call from the principal."

John raised a brow and slowly lowered his fork before shifting his eyes back to Stiles.

"Anything you want to tell me?"

"I-uh..."

"The principal called to let us know that our son had gotten detention for disrupting class, again one might add, and then later received a paddling for punching Scott McCall so hard he had an asthma attack!"

Stiles glanced at his dad, whose face was turning redder by the second.

"Dad relax, I can expla-"
"Well I would love to hear that, Stiles. Now!" John growled.

"I know, just take it easy."

Stiles sent his dad a quick look and sucked in his lip when he saw the anger looming in his eyes.

His 2012-dad could be a real hard-ass on him, and Stiles had no doubt in his mind that a 1950's-version of Sheriff Stilinski wasn't exactly more laissez-faire. The occasional neck-pinch or smack to the head in 2012 probably didn't cut it here in 1957, and Stiles swallowed at the mere thought.

"I needed Scott's help with something really important, and-uh..." Stiles didn't really know how to go on.

"So you punched him?"

"No, not- well yes, but it wasn't like it was supposed to give him an asthma attack! I just needed him to get angry so he could help me..."

John massaged the spot between his eyes and sighed deeply.

"You're not making a lick of sense here, Stiles. I am getting VERY tired of these shenanigans that you've been pulling lately, and I felt certain that there wasn't going to be any more trouble with you after our last, little chat!" John rumbled and air-quoted the last word.

Stiles felt his cheeks heat up at what his father was implying and looked down.

"I'm sorry..." he mumbled and felt his heart beating.

Constantly being unsure of how the people around him would react was wearing on him, and Stiles ran a hand through his hair.

"You should be," Claudia said and sent Stiles a stern glare, "since when has it been alright to hit your best friend? Or constantly be late for class? Or steal your father's police car?"

Stiles looked up.

"Your car?" he muttered to himself.

"Yes, my car, Stiles," John growled angrily, "don't tell me our conversation from that evening has already slipped your mind."

"Uh-no?" Stiles said in a low voice and drew out the "no".

"What did I promise you that night?"

Stiles sucked in a breath and furrowed his brows.

"Uhh..."

"ANSWER ME, STILES!" the sheriff practically yelled and slapped a hand down the table.

"That-uh, that I wouldn't-" Stiles fumbled for the words and tried reading the look on his father's face, "that I wouldn't like what would happen, uh, if I got in trouble again?"

The sheriff narrowed his eyes and took a sip of water.

"Close enough," he hissed and Stiles let out a puff of air, "after dinner we're going to the study to take care of this!" John continued and pointed a long finger at his son.

Stiles felt his heart pound like crazy, and all of a sudden he wasn't the least bit hungry despite this being the tastiest homemade meal he had had in years!

-xxx-

Stiles gulped when his dad grabbed him determinedly by the arm and started dragging him towards the study.

"Dad, please, I'm waaay too old for this!"

The sheriff stopped in his tracks and sent Stiles a confused look.

"Stiles, it's merely been three weeks, you haven't exactly aged a whole lot in that peroid of time."

"Oh," was all that Stiles could muster and wanted nothing more than to rip free and flee the house.

"Besides," John said, "the rule has always been, and will continue to be, that when you get in trouble at school you get in trouble at home!"

That one wasn't new and definitely still existed i 2012, Stiles mused, just not in quite as physical a way!

The study looked almost like itself and Stiles briefly shut his eyes when John closed the door. They could hear Claudia rummaging around in the kitchen and Stiles sent his father a begging look.

"Please don't do this, dad," he said in a small voice when the sheriff started taking off his belt.

John didn't say anything but sent his son a grave look that made Stiles lick his lips nervously.

"Turn around, Stiles," the sheriff ordered and felt a surge of anger when the teen just kept looking at him," NOW!"

"Seriously, dad, my ass can't take anymore! Can't you just yell at me?"

"We're past yelling here, Stiles! You hit your best friend, you were late for school, AGAIN, and your language is running amok! Now, bend over the desk."

But Stiles couldn't get himself to actually do it. It had been one thing with the principal, but having your dad about to whoop your ass at his age made Stiles blush and freeze up. John took a long step to his son and grabbed him around the neck. With the well-known pinch he pushed him forward and Stiles nearly stumbled. He grabbed the table for support and swallowed when he sensed his dad pull back his arm.

Then he heard the whoosh of air and Stiles grimaced when the leather struck his skin with a loud CRACK.

"Ah, FUCK!" he yelped and jumped.

"Watch your mouth!" John hissed and swallowed. It wasn't like he enjoyed this, and usually Stiles was rather stoic and took his punishment without making a fuss, making the whole thing a little easier for his dad.

Just as the sheriff was talking himself into landing another branding lick, the door opened and Claudia grabbed her husband around the forearm before he struck Stiles again.

"John, there's been another murder," she said in a shaky voice, "they need you at the station immediately!"

Stiles whipped around at his mother's words and registered the fear in her eyes.

"Who's been killed?" he asked and winced when he brushed a hand carefully across his sore backside.

"That doesn't concern you, Stiles," John said and quickly put on his belt before reaching for his gun and holster.

Then he kissed Claudia on the cheek and sent Stiles a stern but caring look.

"You behave from now on, son, or your butt won't like you at all!"

Stiles blushed and gave a nod with his eyes averted.

-xxx-

Stiles waited a while before excusing himself to his room, using homework as a cover to be alone. Then he arranged his bed so it looked like he was huddled up under the duvet and quickly opened his window. With a sigh he grabbed the downspout and started his descent. Murders in Beacon Hills were rarely normal and if something supernatural was roaming the town Stiles wanted to know what, or rather who, it was!

Anyone think they can guess who is dead? :)