Hey you lovely people! So I got so many reactions to the previous chapter, and I have to take a moment to tell you all how honored I am that you all are so intrigued with my story and that it is a great honor to have so many people read it. You guys are wonderful and don't ever forget it. Also, I am so sorry that it took so long to get this chapter up. I was intentionally holding off on posting that way the previous chapter had more time to sink in with you lovely readers. I'm sorry. Anyways, you've waited long enough…Chapter 28!

"With all due respect sir, may I ask why the hell you are still here?" Deputy Graham's voice floated sternly from where she stood in Sheriff Stalinksi's doorway.

"C'mon now Tara," The sheriff looked up from the paperwork on his desk that he had reviewed for the thousandth time. "We have a lot to sort out with this Charles case still…"

"How far have you gotten with it?" Deputy Graham's eyes stayed trained on him.

"Nowhere…" The Sheriff admitted. "Which is why we have the FBI in town and helping with it."

"Then leave it with the FBI…" Deputy Graham stepped towards his desk. "You're running yourself rugged. They can do a hell of a lot more with this case than we can."

"Yeah I know…I'm just—"

"You're just avoiding something."

The Sheriff chuckled—as always Deputy Graham cut straight to the chase without any bullshit. She always had a knack for finding out the truth. She'll make one damn good sheriff one day.

"Nothing gets past you." The Sheriff chuckled.

"That was just a shot in the dark." The deputy smiled. "But now that you've admitted it, why don't you tell me what the hell it is you're avoiding."

"I don't think that would be appropriate for the venue." Sheriff replied.

"Sir, as a Deputy I'd be happy to restrain you until you talk." She folded her arms, not forfeiting her resolve.

The Sheriff looked at her for a moment and then sighed in defeat—she wasn't going to leave.

"Alright. Stiles and I had a pretty bad fight this weekend, and we both said things we shouldn't have to each other." He admitted. "When Claudia died, I promised myself I wouldn't be one of those fathers who was never there for his kid." The Sheriff spilled. Where the hell is all of this coming from? Now that the dam had broken, the Sheriff found he couldn't stop what lay behind. "Turns out that is exactly what I became…one of those fathers." His eyes fell to his paper-covered desk. "You're right Tara. I'm here way too much, but I need to be… It's my job to keep this department running and to find out what the hell is going on out there. What's worse is that I never have any idea what the hell is happening and why all of these cases are so bizarre. Then I get wrapped up here and am never there for my son when he needs me, and then things happen like they did this weekend. Stiles told me that I haven't been there for him…which is true…I haven't. But then there are other variables going on here, variables with Stiles that I have no idea how to deal with. They are out of both of our control, and I shouldn't be holding him accountable but I do." Sheriff Stalinski let out another sigh. "We both just haven't been right since Claudia died."

Deputy Graham absorbed everything the Sheriff had told her for a few moments before she began speaking. "So that's why you've told me not to let him back to see you." She murmured softly.

"Right."

"Well Sheriff, you of all people should know that a problem left untouched is a problem left unsolved." Deputy Graham pointed out. "Like you've mentioned, it sounds like there is a disconnect between you and your son."

"I know that Tara, I just don't know how to un-disconnect it." The words felt funny falling off of his tongue.

Deputy Graham laughed softly. "Stiles is a teenager." She pointed out. "Understanding them is like understanding how the universe was created. There isn't a solid answer. You were in that stage once too."

"But I never had a problem with my parents." The sheriff looked back at her.

"Your mother didn't die when you were eight." She shot back. "You're family has taken a major hit Sheriff," She said lightly. "Your son lost his mother, and you lost your wife. No one is ever simply alright with that, no matter how much time has passed."

The Sheriff stared at her in awe at the insight his deputy had given him.

"You are right sir, your son needs you." She reiterated to him. "Yes, you may not have been there as much as you could have because of your job. But you were his father before you were the Sheriff, and I think you and I both know which job comes first."

"But how do I fix this?" The Sheriff asked wearily, rubbing his temples with his fingers.

"Talk to him. If he doesn't listen or want to talk, give it a day and then try again. Try as many times as you need to, Sheriff. Stiles will eventually come around. He just needs to know that you are in fact there." She emphasized the last word.

The Sheriff simply laughed. He knew she was right. Damn, Tara is going to go far in life.

"Alright alright, you've made your point." The Sheriff chuckled. "Let me just finish this report review—" Before he even finished his sentence, Deputy Graham had snatched the folder for the Charles case from the desk and smacked him in the back of the head with it.

"Sheriff, what in the hell did we just talk about?!" She scolded him. "You know better than to disobey a black woman. I don't care what title you have with the county."

"Alright I'm going!" The Sheriff rubbed the back of his head before putting his hands up in defeat.

"You best be, don't make me hit you again." She chuckled. "I'll take care of this review tonight, sir." Her voice softened. "You get to your other job."

The Sheriff looked at her smile. "Thanks Tara…I mean it." He said sincerely.

"Good luck Sheriff." She replied and exited the office.

The Sheriff sat back in his chair for a brief moment, reviewing what his deputy had told him tonight. He checked his watch.

9:45pm.

He still had time to pick up a pizza or something from the local pizza parlor before it closed. He would need to leave now, and that he did.

Within two minutes he was in his cruiser, driving home.

xXxXxXxXxXx

The Sheriff parked his cruiser next to Stiles' jeep in the driveway. It was now ten thirty, and the Sheriff was now a little nervous for his conversation with his son. He opened the door to his cruiser after taking a deep breath in, grabbed the extra-large meat lover's pizza he had picked up for an icebreaker, and headed inside.

Inside, the house was pitch black to his surprise, as Stiles usually left some sort of light on for when he came home. He probably just elected not to do it because of our argument. That seemed plausible enough for the Sheriff. He fuddled his way through the dark foyer to the kitchen where he flipped on the light and set the pizza box down.

"Stiles!" The Sheriff called up the stairs. "I have an extra-large pizza with every edible animal on earth used as a topping! It looks extremely unhealthy so I think you should come and stop me!" Sheriff Stalinski chuckled to himself at his joke. Stiles would sure enough come running down the stairs in a moment to 'confiscate' his pizza and force him to eat a salad or something.

The Sheriff took the opportunity to unhitch his gun holster and utility belt and hang them up before he quickly grabbed a slice of pizza to eat. Stiles did not come running down the stairs.

Damn… He must really be pissed at me. The Sheriff was surprised to find he was a bit hurt at the realization of his son's emotions. I guess I can't really blame him though. The Sheriff quickly finished the last bit of his slice of pizza, and headed upstairs.

The hallway was just as dark as the foyer, and there was no light shining from under Stiles' bedroom door. Maybe he went to bed early. The Sheriff flicked on the hall way light and began to head towards his son's room when he saw his own bedroom from the corner of his eye.

Socks and boxers and random articles of clothing littered his bedroom floor. The Sheriff entered his own bedroom to investigate further, and he cursed under his breath when he saw the damage to its full extent when he turned his light on.

His floor was covered in the contents of his dresser and the mirror on top looked like it had been smashed with a bat. The cracked glass spider-webbed itself to the extent of the mirror, and tiny shards lay scattered on the dresser surface.

"Stiles, what the hell happened to my bedroom!?" The Sheriff thundered, immediately spinning on his heel to charge into his son's bedroom.

He threw the door open to a dark and silent room. The Sheriff hit the light switch with a violent flick of his wrist, and then he leapt back in horror.

The floor was covered in shards of broken glass and little white tablets, and the Sheriff's whiskey bottle lay empty near Stiles' desk. Dried blood covered the hardwood—then his eyes fell on the still body of his son.

Stiles' silent body lay unmoving in the center of the horrific maelstrom, his torso bare and mutilated in hundreds of congealed gashes.

"Stiles!" Sheriff Stalinski rushed forward to his son's side, his jaw agape in horror. "Stiles! STILES!" He shook the body of his son, but no response came. "STILES! WHAT DID YOU DO TO YOURSELF!?" Nothing left the pale blue lips of his son.

The Sheriff looked frantically around, the empty bottle of whiskey lay nearby, and a white plastic bottle lay next to it. White tablets surrounded it. Sheriff Stalinski reached a shaky hand to pick up the bottle.

'Maximum Strength Sleeping Tablets 100ct.' The Sheriff tossed the bottle away and saw the bloodied razor on the floor. Tears began to spill from his eyes.

"Stiles! Stiles please wake up! Please wake up! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE WAKE UP!" The Sheriff screamed at his son, deftly shaking his mutilated and cold body.

His eyes trailed down the chest of his son. On every inch of his son's visible flesh, the word 'PERFECT' was etched, and the gashes looked deep and inflamed. The Sheriff pressed his ear to his son's bloody chest, praying for a heartbeat…He found none. Stiles was completely silent, and his flesh was cold.

Something metallic glinted. The Sheriff's eyes shot to what Stiles' cold hand clutched too… There, smiling at him from a mangled, shattered, and blood stained picture frame, was Stiles' mother. The last thing his son had held on to…

Tears now fell freely from his wrinkling eyes, and he was praying to anyone who could hear him. Please let him live… please please let him live… He sobbed. Stiles needed to get to a hospital.

The Sheriff shoved his arms under his son's body and hoisted him up. Blood began seeping from the gashes (as they had torn open) and onto his hands. Sheriff Stalinski ran as fast he could with his son in his arms downstairs. Kicking open the front door, the sheriff rushed to his cruiser. Keeping an arm around Stiles' bleeding body, he pulled his keys out and unlocked the car. After gently laying his son in the back seat, the Sheriff sprinted to the driver's side, turned the car and his sirens on, and in seconds, was speeding through the night in the direction of Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital.

xXxXxXxXxXx

Scott breathed in the scent of Allison's long brunette curls. She had fallen asleep to the movie they were watching. It was a flick about Reese Witherspoon trying to find out which of two secret agents was a better boyfriend yadda-yadda-yadda. Chris Argent had become tolerant of their relationship, so he had said nothing after dinner. Scott yawned.

"Hey... babe…" Scott whispered. "Allison…wake up."

She stirred, and then looked around. "Sorry…" She murmured, rubbing her eyes and stretching. "How was the movie?"

"I couldn't quite hear it over your snoring." He teased and kissed her on the cheek.

"What time is it?" She groaned.

"I'm not sure. I think I left my phone in your room." Scott replied.

After looking at the clock on the wall, they both found that it was a bit past 11:30pm.

"I'd better go." Scott whispered.

"If you have to…" She pouted, and Scott made up for it with a quick kiss.

They both threw off the afghan they had covered themselves in preparation for the movie, and headed back up to Allison's room to grab Scott's things.

Scott slipped his shoes on and retrieved his phone from the floor where he had tossed it earlier. Unlocking the screen he saw he had seven missed calls.

"Damn I'm popular." Scott chuckled to Allison, while checking who the missed calls were from.

Six were from the hospital, undoubtedly his mom. Shit, I forgot to bring her dinner… Scott scolded himself. The other was from Stiles, and there was a voicemail. Entering his voicemail box, the robot commanded him to type in his password.

"You have one unheard message…First unheard message…"

"Um…."There was a short break in Stiles' voice. "Hey Scott… Look I—"

The message was cut short of a long beep signifying an incoming call. Frustrated, Scott checked who was interrupting Stiles' message. The hospital number portrayed itself on the screen.

"Hello?" Scott answered.

"WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?!" His mother yelled from the other side of the line. Various beeps and announcements of the ER sounded in the background.

"I was watching a movie with Allison and I forgot my phone in her room…" He replied defensively. "I'm sorry I forgot your dinner."

"I don't care about dinner." Melissa retorted into the line. "I just thought you would like to know that Stiles is here."

"Why is Stiles there?" Scott asked, confused. "He called me earlier, but I didn't know it was him. Is he looking for me? What does he want?"

"No Scott, Stiles isn't here for you." His mother's voiced dropped. "Stiles was admitted here into the ER about forty five minutes ago…"

"What happened to him?!" Scott's stomach dropped. "Is he alright? What happened?"

"Scott what's wrong?" Allison said from his side, worry saturating her voice.

"Honey…" Melissa said solemnly. "He tried to kill himself…"

Scott's jaw dropped and his heart plummeted into his stomach. The breath left his lungs, and his head began to spin. He reached out for Allison to support him.

"I'll be there in ten minutes." Scott whispered hoarsely and hung the line up. "We have to go."

"Scott! Hold on a minute! Go where?! What's wrong?!"

"Allison we don't have time!" Scott yelled at her. "Stiles tried to commit suicide and is in the hospital as we speak!"

Allison's hands flew to her mouth and her eyes bulged.

"Let's go." Scott growled and sprinted for downstairs, Allison close on his heels.

Angry thoughts raced through his mind. Scott cursed himself, cursed the fates, cursed Derek…everything. Worry stuck to his heart like glue, and his breath was shallow and hard to come by.

They both climbed into Allison's car, and sped towards the hospital. The drive was usually about twenty minutes, as the hospital was in the center of Beacon Hills. Allison and Scott made it in about five.

They didn't even bother to find a decent parking spot; they simply found an empty one and dashed from the car towards the emergency wing as quickly as possible.

Before entering, Scott through his head back and roared to the sky above, signaling to Derek and the pack that something was wrong and that they needed to be there.

Then they entered together, praying that Stiles would be alright.

xXxXxXxXxXx

Derek strolled aimlessly through the dark woods. It was something he did shortly after his family had died. Being one with the dark forest around him somehow made him feel less alone in life, and that was something Derek desperately needed. With Stiles out of his reach forever, Derek had felt more alone now than he had in his entire life.

His eyes turned skyward, looking into the face of the half-moon above his head. The stars speckled the sky, twinkling with a whimsical beauty. Then an echo broke the silence.

Scott's roar sounded through the night—signaling for help…signaling that something was wrong.

The alpha pack is gone…what kind of help would Scott need? All Derek wanted to do was ignore the call. Scott could handle himself, and Derek was in no mood to be with anyone. His inner wolf however, had other ideas. This was an instinct Derek could not refute. The wolf lived for the pack, so when one called for help, he could not refuse.

In frustration, Derek turned and sprinted in the direction of Scott's howl.

xXxXxXxXxXx

The Sheriff held his head in his hands. There was no one in the waiting room other than himself, Scott, and Allison. The hospital staff wouldn't let him see his son.

The tears in Sheriff Stalinski's eyes would not dry up. On they poured in an endless cascade of darkened sadness. The Sheriff had never felt this worthless in his entire life. His son was dying, and there was nothing he could do about it except sit. He shook with a sob.

Allison turned her teary-eyed consolation from Scott to rub a soothing hand onto Sheriff Stalinski's back. Scott squeezed her other hand.

The outside doors slid open automatically, and Scott's red and swollen eyes shot up. Derek strode in, originally wearing an expression of anger which soon morphed into worry when he laid eyes on the crying trio.

Scott stood to meet him.

"Scott…what's going on?" Derek asked, his voice guarded.

"It's Stiles…" Scott choked out.

"What happened…" Derek's eyes immediately shifted to a glowing ruby.

"He…" Scott inhaled a shaky breath. "Tried to commit suicide."

Derek's world stopped. Everything went quiet…everything except his heartbeat. It pounded in his chest, so hard that Derek feared it would rip itself out from underneath his sternum. Scott's eyes fell to his chest, seeming to see the erratic pulse.

"I'm scared Derek." Scott whispered.

"What did he do?" Derek's voice choked out hoarsely. The alpha within him whimpered. He couldn't tough this out. Not when it came to Stiles.

"Stiles' dad said he found him in his bedroom on the floor. There was broken glass and sleeping pills everywhere. He said Stiles had cut himself…so many times. His entire body was covered in blood…"

Derek's heart shattered at the thought of Stiles hurting himself the way he used too.

"He also overdosed on sleeping pills and alcohol…" Another tear slid from Scott's eye.

"He's going to be okay right?" Derek pleaded. His voice was nothing above a whisper, bruised and broken.

"His dad said he couldn't find a heartbeat…" Scott looked down.

Derek stepped back. Stiles had to make it. He just had too… Derek's mind began racing, begging the heavens to spare his mate's life. Stiles couldn't die…

"What's he doing here…" It wasn't a question.

Derek looked up to see the Sheriff glowering at him with swollen, watery eyes.

"The same thing you are." Derek growled back. "I'm here for Stiles."

"You have no place here. You have no place with my son…" The Sheriff spat back.

"Mr. Stalinski please…" Scott stood between them. "You have no idea how much Stiles means to Derek."

"Oh I know how they are together." The Sheriff retorted. "But he isn't worthy of my son."

"I know." Derek stepped forward. "Stiles deserves way better than the likes of me. I told him as such just a few days ago. He can do so much better. But for right now, until I know that he is safe…I'm going to be here."

"I don't want you around him."

"I'm going to stay." Derek said with finality. "I love your son. Nothing will change that, and you can't stop it."

The Sheriff's eyes bulged, Scott's jaw dropped, and Allison's lips quivered at Derek's declaration.

"I know you don't approve Sheriff, but that's just how it is going to be."

The Sheriff stared at Derek for a moment, and then his eyes wavered. He turned as another sob wracked his body.

There was a noise, and then a gentle slam of a heavy wooden door. Melissa McCall walked wearily from it.

The Sheriff straightened immediately and rushed to meet her.

"Is he okay?! Is he alive?! Will he make it?!" He rained the questions on her before they even met.

"He's alive…" Melissa said solemnly.

Sheriff Stalinski visibly relaxed, though worry still tinted his eyes.

"His heartbeat was extremely low when he was admitted—so low the EKG could hardly detect it."

"What about everything else?" The Sheriff choked.

"Well…" Scott's mom searched for the correct words. "Stiles put himself through quite an episode of physical trauma. He lost a copious amount of blood through his self-inflicted wounds, which in and of itself would have made him theoretically easy to treat. However, the intake of alcohol coupled with the overdose of those sleeping pills sent his body into a type of metabolic shock. The loss of blood left him virtually defenseless against it. His body was already weakened, and the surplus of what he digested caused his systems to go into shock."

"He's not awake is he?" The sheriff looked at her, all hope seemingly vanished.

"No. An overdose of drugs usually causes the body to go into the shock I just described. We call it an Induced Coma. The doctors extracted what they could from his stomach, but there wasn't much. Most of what Stiles took had already been absorbed by his system. They gave him a blood transfusion as well, but all we can do now is wait and see if he wakes up…"

"He will wake up won't he?" Scott stepped toward his mother.

"That's the difficult part." She looked toward the floor. "Being in this type of coma, he is completely unresponsive and incapable of voluntary movement. The longer he stays under, the more likely his to enter a vegetative state… The longer he stays under, the less likely it is that he will wake up…"

Allison's eyes filled with tears and she grabbed Scott's hand. Derek swallowed hard, trying to keep his emotions at bay. Stiles' father just stared on, feeling like he had been hit in the chest with a sledge hammer.

"I'm glad you got him here when you did… had it been an hour more and he would've been beyond our help." She looked into the Sheriff's eyes.

The Sheriff gulped. "Can I see him?" He begged her.

"Follow me." She nodded, and the group followed her down the hall.

Within a few moments, she stood outside a curtained cubical, which she gently withdrew.

The Sheriff's intake of breath was audible as his eyes found the pale, motionless face of his son inside.

There Stiles lay, his arms, and what was visible of his shoulders underneath the hospital gown were wrapped securely in gauze, and an oxygen mask covered his mouth and nose. An IV tube stuck out from his left wrist, and a slow rhythmic beep sounded in place of his heartbeat. His dark-circled eyes remained closed.

Sheriff Stalinski, Scott, Allison, and Derek encircled Stiles' bed. Tears fell freely from everyone's eyes except for Derek's. On he stared at the still body of his mate.

In trying to protect him, Derek had sentenced Stiles to death. From what he heard, there was a good chance that Stiles wouldn't wake up, though Derek was now willing to barter anything and everything he had just to ensure that Stiles would wake up. But standing there, looking at Stiles' pale face, knowing what he had done to himself—it was too much for Derek to bear. He felt it building inside him. Tears welled in his eyes. Stiles couldn't die. He just couldn't. Derek needed him… It's all my fault…

Before his emotions could take the best of him, Derek spun on his heel and hurried out of the ward, sprinting away into the darkness.

Meanwhile, the Sheriff gently stroked his son's forehead before he bent forward and placed a soft kiss where his hands had just caressed. This was his son…

The Sheriff blamed himself…Had he been there for his son, Stiles would still be awake. He wouldn't be standing here in a dark emergency room praying that the life of his son would be spared. Everything would have been alright. It's all my fault… Tears began to flood down his cheeks again.

Scott stood next to Allison, who simply stared at Stiles' enfeebled body. Stiles had tried to call him today. Scott had the chance to save his best friend, and he had thrown it away in ignorance. He had broken his promise to Stiles. He wasn't there when Stiles needed him.

Scott turned from Allison, the Sheriff, and his mother, and stormed out of the cubical. He could feel the breath rushing in and out of his lungs… He found a corner in the waiting room, and slid down it to the floor. He pulled out his cellphone.

Opening his voice mailbox, he held the device to his ear.

"You have one skipped message…" Scott waited. "First skipped message…"

"Umm…" Stiles' voice broke. He had clearly been crying. "Hey Scott… Look, I know you are probably busy with Allison and everything, but I was really hoping to talk to you…Something's really wrong Scott…and I have no idea what to do… I feel like I'm going insane and there isn't anything I can do about it…which is why I was hoping you'd answer…I need you to help me through this. I don't think I can handle feeling this way anymore Scott, I just can't. My dad…I screwed up so bad… and everything I say and do seems to make it all worse. There's no end to it… I'm sinking. I can't breathe anymore and it is all I can do to keep my panic attacks at bay. I need you Scott…I really…really…need you. Please help me through this Scott…I can't do it by myself anymore… If you get this…please come get me. You've always been like my brother Scott…you've always made everything better, and even just a few moments with you will help me through this. I've pushed my Dad away, Derek's pushed me away…You're all I have now… So please…if you can…please please call me back. I really need you..."

"End of message…To repeat this message—" Scott ended the program.

Stiles had cried his heart out to Scott's voicemail, and Scott didn't even so much as return his call. Scott buried his head between his knees, sobs wracking his entire body. If I had only just answered his fucking phone call….Scott screamed at himself. I could have saved him… I could have saved him… Scott shook all over and tears flowed freely down his cheeks. I'm so sorry Stiles… It's all my fault and I'm so sorry…

Scott could have saved him…

Derek could have saved him…

His father could have saved him…

But no one was there.

xXxXxXxXxXx

He shivered…

Stiles looked around, finding nothing but an expanse of misty white. He looked down at himself, finding what looked like a hospital robe. Then it hit him like a speeding bus.

Stiles saw himself standing in his bedroom, writhing in agony and screaming at someone who was not in the room. His body was mangled in bleeding gashes which spelled the word 'PERFECT' over and over and over again. They covered his entire torso. Stiles looked down, finding nothing but the hospital gown on his own body. His skin seemed untouched.

The memory disappeared, leaving Stiles gasping in fear.

"Stiles…" the whisper echoed around him.

Stiles immediately stood poised, waiting to hear the echo again.

"Stiles…" Stiles felt something warm on his shoulder.

He whirled around before doubling back in shock at what he saw.

"Mom?"