Hey all! So my schedule this week has been more condusive to editing than writing, so I went with it and you guys get a chapter this week after all. This one gave me some trouble... I swear I spent just as much time staring at the screen as I did writing. It has a lot more of the adult character than I'd originally thought it would, but I think seeing events from their perspective gave it a different sort of depth. Also not the predictable approach and since when have I ever wanted to be predictable? ;)

Thanks to everyone who read and/or reviewed the last chapter! Only the two-part finale to go after this!

Chapter 34

To say Sheriff Stilinski hadn't been expecting this would've been a blatant lie. That, however, didn't make him any happier when Rafe McCall cornered him in his office the next day. The relief he'd felt when he'd finally brought Stiles home this morning had dispersed the humming tension that had plagued him throughout the whole ordeal, allowing his body to finally make him pay for his neglect. Sanuye had left him with an herbal mixture that would, according to her, help him regain his energy. Although, he was starting to suspect that it did so by putting him to sleep.

In short, he was tired and bleary-eyed and in absolutely no mood to deal with FBI Agent Rafe McCall. The moment Rafe walked into his office, the sheriff eyed the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet where he kept his emergency bottle of tequila. Unfortunately, he realized with a sigh, that would be giving Rafe a moral high ground he refused to allow him. Also, coupled with his 'energy-restoring' drink, it probably would put him to sleep.

"Agent McCall, what can I do for you?" he asked, folding his arms on top of his desk as he looked up at the other man expectantly.

Rafe hesitated for a moment before closing the door softly behind him. Then he slid his hands into the pockets of his dress pants and turned to the sheriff with a blank expression.

"I thought you said Stiles was human," he said softly, his voice holding a note of accusation.

The sheriff narrowed his eyes at him. "Stiles is human. He's also my son, therefore not your concern."

"Really? And what exactly was that thing in the hospital parking lot again? That didn't seem like something an ordinary human could do."

He snorted. "Stiles has never even remotely resembled the word normal. Now he's just found a new way to redefine it and give me as many grey hairs as possible along the way."

"And you're okay with that?"

"I don't exactly have a choice in the matter. His motivations are noble and he's thankfully managed to find himself a good support system, people who will help him learn as safely as possible and maybe even keep him from doing anything too stupid."

"Not that I actually understand what happened back there – since no one will explain it to me – but I'm pretty sure Stiles nearly died."

"Saving your life. You'd be dead right now if not for Stiles and Lydia."

Silence stretched through the office and the sheriff wanted nothing more than to grab the man and shake him. And then throw him out of his office.

"Scott isn't talking to me," Rafe said softly. "He's... really mad."

Sheriff Stilinski sighed tiredly. "Of course he's mad. And no, he's probably not going to forgive you in any sort of hurry, if ever. Believe me, I know where you were coming from. I was here when this whole thing started and I knew something was going on, knew Stiles was lying to me. And, yes, there were definitely times where I was tempted to break out our meagre surveillance equipment and use it to find out what Stiles was hiding from me. Especially after half my staff was killed by a high school student with a grudge. And then Stiles disappeared right off the lacrosse field after winning the championship game and came home looking like someone's discarded punching bag. When he left with Lydia afterwards, I searched his room for evidence of drugs or gang activity."

He took a deep breath and looked Rafe in the eye, making sure the man saw every inch of his disapproval. "But search his room the one time was all I ever did. Sure, I thought about running a tap on his phone, but I never went through with it, Rafe. I know my boy and I know that even with his craziest, stupidest ideas, his heart's always been in the right place – or at least not in an altogether wrong place. Forget the illegal part, what you did was just plain wrong."

Rafe's eyes turned stormy. "And what was I supposed to do? Scott wasn't talking, wasn't even admitting that something was going on and yet people have been dying all around him."

He could almost hear the snap as whatever had been holding his temper in check suddenly broke. Before he consciously realized it, the sheriff was on his feet, fury bubbling just beneath his skin. Hadn't he just said that Stiles had done the same thing to him? It had taken over a year for him to get the truth out of Stiles and he had lived through each day wondering if this was his fault, if he'd failed his son to point where Stiles didn't trust him. Wondered if Stiles would've been more willing to open up, to tell him the truth if he'd been there for him more...

"You could've trusted us!" he hissed angrily, part of him still conscious of the fact that he was inside the precinct and his office door wasn't sound-proof. "You were clearly aware, or at least suspected, that Melissa and I were aware of what was going on. Did you really think that if something needed to be done, we'd just stand around and do nothing? That we wouldn't have told you if the boys were in trouble? If you needed to know?"

Rafe was silent, seemingly surprised by the sheriff's anger. The sheriff took a deep breath to try and calm himself down.

"Scott had no reason to trust you, Rafe. You and Melissa divorced and you left Beacon Hills before the ink had dried."

"I had an assignment-"

"And that Scott would've understood, had you bothered to stop by at any point before a second assignment brought you back to Beacon Hills. And even then, you still had the chance to make things right. I mean, you seemed to be on the right track from what I'd managed to observe. Did it never occur to you that you that, maybe, your relationship with your son might take precedence over learning the truth as quickly as possible?"

Rafe was silent for a few moments. "I guess I thought the ends justified the means."

"And did they?"

Rafe didn't answer. The sheriff sighed and sat back down, feeling suddenly drained. The door opened quietly as the FBI agent left. He waited for a full minute before getting up and crossing to the filing cabinet.

Now he really needed that tequila.

Storm soared high above them as Stiles and Sanuye made their way through the forest, the packs on their backs loaded down more than usual. They walked in silence, Stiles watching where he stepped and listening to the forest around him. He could listen and talk, but he couldn't listen closely and talk. And he was savouring the silence.

He hadn't even realized it until his spirit jaunt inside Storm, but Beacon Hills was loud. Most people wouldn't have heard it at all and to those like Stiles who did, it was a continuous rhythmic background noise. Always there, and yet easily overlooked. He wondered how loud it would get – and why it felt it was building up to something. Actually, the second part filled him with dread and made figuring things out feel all the more urgent.

March Break was the perfect time to get away from the sound, from the constant source of tension he hadn't even realized was there. Sanuye had suggested they go camping. His dad had negotiated for the last four days of the break, which he was taking off so they could do some father-son stuff of a yet-to-be-determined nature. Stiles felt a bit like he was being shuffled between two parents.

Camping with Sanuye involved a lot of walking. And herb-gathering.

They crossed a small stream just past mid-afternoon. Sanuye knelt at its bank and observed the ground. Stiles walked over and knelt beside her. The grass had clearly been trampled down and, in a bare spot of the muddy shore, he saw several hoof-prints.

"Deer?" he asked softly.

Sanuye nodded. "A herd. Look how trampled the grass looks, there are many prints all on top of each other."

Stiles nodded, following her hand as she pointed out the varying print sizes. Then she motioned for him to go ahead. Stiles swallowed before slipping ahead of her, his eyes darting from the ground to the surrounding foliage as he put the skills Liwanu and his brother had taught him to use.

An hour later, he found his reward grazing peacefully in a sunny clearing. It didn't seem like a large herd (assuming they were all inside the clearing). The lead stag was immediately visible as he carefully watched the forest for danger, chest puffed out and antlers standing proudly atop his head. He looked like the king of the forest. And, for all Stiles knew, maybe he was. At least of this part of it anyway.

Stiles smiled as he watched the herd, feeling Sanuye as she sat down next to him.

Sometime later, Sanuye touched his arm and then silently gestured for him to follow. He gave the herd one, last look before he did. They walked far enough away so as to not disturb the deer, going over a small ridge with a large moss-covered stone at its base that looked a bit like a frog. On the other side, nestled between two old maple trees, Sanuye suggested they make camp.

Stiles had been camping before. His earliest memories were faded with age, but he still remembered lighting the fires with his mom and sitting on his dad's knee as he pointed out constellations in the night sky. There were memories with just his dad later on, but those usually had Scott – and sometimes Melissa and only very occasionally Rafe – with them as well.

Sanuye showed him how to make a quick, makeshift firepit and then how to light a fire without matches. Then she put it out and let him try. Stiles tried and tried until his hands were sore, until he finally gave up with a frustrated huff. Sanuye laughed and pulled out a box of matches.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "If you always carry matches around, why do it the hard way?"

"Because here I am teaching and you are learning," she said. "Camping is about survival, about learning to survive when you have no choice. Fire is necessary for warmth, but matches can be forgotten or they can get wet."

"It could be raining and then the rain will just put the fire out."

"That will be tomorrow's lesson."

"It's not like I actually learnt today's."

"No, but now you know how to practise. If you wish to learn, you will."

Stiles shook his head in amusement. He supposed it was a very economical way to teach. "You actually trust me not to burn anything down?"

"If you burn something down then it means you've managed to complete the lesson."

Stiles snickered. "That's one way of looking at it. Not sure dad will agree though."

Sanuye rolled her eyes. "Then don't practise in the kitchen. And pay attention when you are practising; a fire always starts out small. If it goes out of control, it is because your mind has wandered."

"Aaand I'm already seeing a problem here."

Sanuye chuckled, but didn't reply, instead stoking the fire and then showing Stiles how to make a stand out of twigs to hang their pot from. She then sent Stiles to fetch water while she set about preparing ingredients for supper.

The sun had long gone down by the time they each settled with a bowl to eat. It wasn't the most delicious meal Stiles had ever had, but after the long day of walking, he devoured his first bowlful ravenously. He went slower on his second bowl.

"So, you and my dad have been getting on really well," he said casually, breaking the silence.

Sanuye raised an eyebrow at him. "It's the consequence of having a pupil who keeps ending up in comas in the hospital."

Stiles flushed. "And none of those were my fault, you know. And the second time I wasn't really in a coma..."

"No, you were clinically brain-dead."

Stiles blinked. "Really?"

No one had told him that. Huh, well that certainly explained the way everyone seemed to cling to him afterwards. Part of the reason he'd so quickly agreed to the camping trip was to get away from his newly-formed pack of mother hens. Of which his dad was, surprisingly enough, the least intrusive. He'd gotten more touchy-feely, more likely to squeeze his shoulder as he walked by or touch his arm when he came up to him – as if he needed to reassure himself that Stiles was real and here. Stiles didn't really mind it, in fact there was a not-so-small part of him that liked it. But it was part of the whole picture: of Scott barely leaving his side while they were at school, Lydia hijacking him at every available opportunity to help her with things she didn't actually need help with and Scott's mom coming over with casserole and cookies way more often than usual.

Okay, he wasn't going to complain about the casserole and cookies. He loved the casserole and cookies.

And he was getting off-topic inside his own mind.

Stiles shook his head. "Right, okay, well no one told me that. I'm also not entirely sure I needed to know that I technically go brain-dead every time I leave my body or spirit travel or whatever."

"Perhaps you need to make a sign to tell people you're not dead."

Stiles blinked and looked up at her across the fire. "Have I told you yet that you're, like, one of my favourite people ever?"

The corners of Sanuye's lips quirked in amusement.

Stiles swallowed and averted his eyes in order to stare into the crackling fire. His palms suddenly felt sweaty. "Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that, uh, if something were to be going on between you and my dad – not that there necessarily has to be or anything, just, you know, if that's ever a possibility that's on the table or anything – that you, uh, don't have to be worried about me. 'Cause I'd be fine with whatever happens... or doesn't happen. I mean, I'm not trying to push anything here, although I do think my dad's a really great guy and deserves to have someone equally awesome to be with. Not that I want details. Actually I really don't want details-"

"Stiles."

Stiles' mouth shut with an audible snap and he looked up at Sanuye, apprehensively. Maybe he was reading everything completely wrong. It wasn't like his dad couldn't be friends with a woman – hell, Scott's mom was pretty much his best friend - and he really didn't want to go jump the gun on anything...

"Stiles." Sanuye's amusement was noticeable even in the odd lighting cast by the fire. "I know how much you care about your father and I'm flattered that you would consider me a worthy partner for him."

Stiles opened his mouth to speak, but Sanuye silenced him with a gesture.

"In return, I will be equally honest with you. The possibility of this 'something' you're talking about is not zero. But neither one of us are people who rush into things. At the moment we are connected through you. It is a tentative connection, though there is the possibility for it to grow into something stronger. If it does, it won't be soon."

Stiles nodded silently.

"Just to be clear, I-I won't be disappointed if you and my dad become just friends or casual acquaintances – okay, maybe a little bit, but I'll get over it. I just... I don't want to be the thing either of you thinks is standing in the way of it."

She smiled at him. "I understand. And thank you."

Stiles smiled back at her. Then he yawned. "And on that note, that lumpy, hard forest floor is looking way too appealing at the moment."

Sanuye chuckled. "You probably won't think so in the morning."

"Oh I know I won't."

"Goodnight, Stiles."

"Goodnight. Hey, do we need to do watch shifts or something?"

"Why, are you expecting bandits in this forest?"

"Uh, no. I hope not?"

"Goodnight, Stiles."

"Right. Goodnight, Sanuye."

Kik kik kik

"Yeah, you too Storm."

Sheriff Stilinski bustled happily about the kitchen. It'd been a long time since he'd made dinner for the two of them since Stiles was usually home before he was so it'd just become habit for them to either order in or for Stiles to cook (they'd eaten a lot of macaroni and cheese for a while until even Stiles had gotten sick of it). He looked at the clock: he had about half an hour before Stiles was due to arrive. Perfect time to stick the fish into the oven.

No sooner had he done that, the doorbell rang. The sheriff threw his oven mitts onto the counter, set the timer and went to answer the door.

Melissa stood on the doorstep, looking lost, like she was barely held together. "He left," she said quietly, her voice distant. The 'again' didn't need to be said.

He opened the door wider. "Come on in," he said with a sigh.

He ushered her into the living room and onto the couch. He sat down next to her. "Does Scott know?" he asked.

She nodded as she looked down at her hands, her arms held close to her body. "He came to see me in the hospital. To say good-bye... Said he'd already said good-bye to Scott."

"Have you been home yet?"

Melissa shook her head. "I tried to convince him to stay. I... I don't want Scott to hate his father. I don't want him to think he's not worth the effort, to get stuck on how his own father left him because it was easier or because he didn't love him enough or-"

"Melissa," the sheriff gently interrupted her, taking her hands in his. There were tears in her eyes now, just waiting to fall. He met her anxious, heart-broken eyes and smiled. "Melissa, no matter what Rafe does, Scott still has you. He will always, for the rest of his life, remember how you stuck by him, how you didn't leave, how you loved him no matter what he did." He paused. "No matter what he became." Melissa chuckled humourlessly at that. "And the rest of us will also stand by him. He'll always have you and me and Stiles and, I suspect, the rest of the pack no matter where they scatter to after graduation."

"Oh my god, don't even say that," said Melissa as she wiped at the tears that had begun to . "That's only just over a year away."

"I know. It's a bit terrifying to think that in just over a year, Stiles will be let loose on the rest of the world."

"You think it'll survive the shock?"

"We'll definitely find out soon enough."

"Way too soon for me."

He took a deep breath and put his arms around her. "Yeah, me too."

She returned his embrace and held on tight. He felt her trembling in his arms as she struggled to pull herself together and squeezed tighter. She was his oldest, most precious friend and he would be her rock for as long as she needed him to be. She'd been there for him when Claudia had gotten sick and then afterwards it'd been her who'd pulled him away from his bottles and forced him to see how he'd been neglecting his grieving son. He'd seen her through the last months of her marriage, stood by as she'd made the most difficult decision of her adult life and held her as she cried after the first time Rafe left with barely a good-bye to anyone.

The timer in the kitchen went off just as he heard the jeep pull up into the driveway. For what it was worth, his timing had been impeccable.

"Sorry, I'll be right back," he said as he gently pulled away from her.

Melissa nodded, wiping at her eyes. "I-I'll just go use your washroom if that's okay?"

"Help yourself."

He quickly turned off the timer and the oven, before running out to the front door. Stiles was just getting his gear out of the trunk.

"Oh, hey dad," he said with a happy grin, looking dirty, rumpled and relaxed. His easy grin faded as he noticed the look on his dad's face. "Uh, dad? Is something wrong?"

"Stiles, go to Scott's," he said. Stiles immediately shoved his camping supplies back into his trunk and slammed it shut. "Melissa's here and... she just needs a couple minutes." He took a deep breath. "Rafe left."

Stiles' expression turned hard, his jaw tensed and his eyes burned with anger. "Just like that? Did he at least say good-bye properly this time?"

The sheriff took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. "He went to see Melissa at the hospital. She has no idea what he told Scott, only that he did say good-bye to him in person."

Stiles snorted. "That's a slight improvement." He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. "Okay, I'll head over there now. I'll, uh, text you once I know what I'm doing."

The sheriff nodded. "Melissa will probably come home shortly, she just..."

"Yeah, I get it dad."

He watched as his son drove off to comfort his best friend. "Dammit, Rafe," he whispered, wishing he'd punched the bastard when he'd had the chance.

Later that night, as Agent Rafe McCall sat alone in the dim-lit comfort of a family-run motel room staring at the striped wallpaper, he received three text messages.

Stilinski: You're a coward.

Stiles: You complete dick! If you're just going to come back and then leave again when things get tough then don't fucking come back!

Unknown: I put a good friend of mine in danger in order to save your life. That won't happen again. -Lydia

Rafe's grip tightened on the bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand. Then he threw his cellphone against the far wall, listening to the satisfying crunch it made as it hit the wall and then fell onto the stained brown carpet. He took another swig of his bottle.