Chapter Twenty-Nine:

When Stiles climbed out of bed the next morning he wasn't answering the warning tones of his alarm, reminding him that it was a school day. No, it was too early for that. Instead he was simply accepting the fact that he wouldn't be getting back to sleep any time soon.

While it was true that Stiles had been running on less sleep these days than he used to, there was a difference between needing less sleep and wanting to sleep but failing in the attempt. Last night – this morning – had certainly been the latter.

Perhaps naively, Stiles hadn't expected the previous day's events to affect him. He'd already known how Isaac's father treated him, even if the knowledge itself had been acquired third-hand, so it wasn't like he was being confronted with new and shocking information. The unrestful pockets of sleep he'd managed between long periods of frustrated wakefulness told a different story altogether.

It was the sound of Isaac's voice on the phone, and the look on his face when Stiles first opened the freezer… Everything had been fine until he went to bed, but afterwards they flooded his mind and wouldn't leave.

Even now, standing beneath the spray of slightly-too-cold water in the shower as Stiles tried to wake himself up properly, those memories lingered at the back of his mind, waiting for his attention to drift so they could sneak back up on him.

oOoOo

When Stiles made it down to the kitchen, he found a note lying on the table. His dad must have left it there before heading to bed.

In it, he strongly suggested that Isaac stay home from school for the day, and offered the same school-skipping privileges to Stiles. The latter was obviously for Isaac's sake rather than for Stiles' benefit. Being alone in an unfamiliar house with a law enforcement officer? It wouldn't be the greatest time, even on the best of days.

Gossip spread like wildfire in towns like Beacon Hills, and those flames would be fanned regardless of whether or not Isaac showed up to school. Thankfully, it was Friday, so he could take the weekend for himself without skipping a noticeably significant amount of school. (Isaac could still skip if he felt like he needed to come Monday, but the longer he stayed away from school the worse the looks people would send him would get.)

At any rate, it was something of a relief, as Stiles himself hadn't even started to think about what he was supposed to do After. His entire plan had consisted of gaining Isaac's trust and trying to convince him to speak out against his father. After last night, his plans had reached their end; he was now at a total loss.

(He would say he was walking into this blind now, but where Isaac was concerned what little he did know from the Future-That-Isn't hadn't amounted to much in the first place. He'd always been flying blind.)

Knowing that he had some breathing room, that he didn't have to march straight into school and figure out how to do damage control on the fly? It was a weight off his shoulders. It was one thing he could set aside to think about later.

oOoOo

Maybe Isaac had sensed that something was different about today; had noted the significant lack of noises that would indicate Stiles getting ready for class and correctly interpreted it. Maybe he hadn't wanted to leave the room, happy to shut himself away as long as no one came to fetch him. Maybe he'd just been asleep.

Either way, Isaac didn't come downstairs until Stiles heard his dad shuffling about upstairs, and that suited him just fine.

After spending perhaps a little too much time wracking his brains to try and kick-start any sort of new contingency planning and staring out the kitchen window at the gradually brightening skyline, Stiles had ultimately come to only one decision: that this potentially sombre day needed a good breakfast to try and lighten the mood.

So, Stiles spent the time preparing pancakes. He even fried up some bacon – that he was actually going to let his dad eat – because he thought they all sort of deserved it after their collectively shitty day.

He was on what he estimated to be the second-to-last pancake, humming quietly to himself as he cooked, when Isaac hesitantly wandered into the kitchen.

Stiles tossed a casual "Morning," over his shoulder at his appearance, because Good Morning felt too flippant all things considered.

Isaac blinked at him, glanced over at the wall clock, then looked back with a raised brow.

"It is still morning," Stiles protested without heat. It wasn't that late. He knew that wasn't what Isaac was really asking though. He gestured at the note he'd left on the table with his free hand. "Rest day," he elaborated without prompting. "Sheriff's orders."

Isaac snatched up the note to read it for himself.

Really, Stiles mused, so untrusting.

"That's…" Isaac's shoulders slumped, not weighed down in exhaustion but slack with relief. "Okay then." Without further comment, he pulled a chair out from the table and folded himself into it.

Isaac almost looked like he wanted to pillow his head on his arms atop the table and go straight back to sleep, but Stiles may have been projecting that particular desire onto him.

Pouring the last of the batter into the pan, Stiles chucked the mixing bowl in the sink and gave it a quick rinse. He could hear his dad heading for the stairs, which was good – if unintentional – timing.

"I must still be half asleep," John mused aloud in lieu of a greeting, voice growing louder as he got closer. "Because I can smell bacon, even though I could've sworn you said something about this being a no-bacon zone."

Wide-eyed, Isaac glanced over his shoulder as the sheriff appeared in the doorway.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Stiles kept his gaze on his hands as he set the table and finished plating everything up. He was trying not to laugh; his dad always kicked up such a fuss about food. "There's plenty of bacon in the house. It's not my fault if you can't find it."

"Son, you're just lucky I never have the time and energy to hunt down your secret stashes, or these pesky dietary restrictions of yours would be gone with the wind."

"Best of luck to you, old man."

Stiles didn't actually have particularly plentiful food stashes, nor was it a serious threat. If he was that fed up with things then he was an adult perfectly capable of going shopping for himself. It was merely a familiar back-and-forth at this point.

Before taking his own seat at the table Stiles switched on the radio, letting the low hum of music fill the room. He didn't really care about silences during meals one way or another, but they could be imposing in unfamiliar spaces. Isaac didn't need any extra provocation to start feeling pressured or uncomfortable.

When they did talk during the meal, it was only about inconsequential things, but for the most part they didn't talk at all. The liveliest chatter was a brief back-and-forth about whether John should be allowed the last slice of bacon, which Stiles ended abruptly and unashamedly by putting it on Isaac's plate instead.

Honestly, Stiles thought that moment might have been the most bewildered he had ever seen Isaac. The thought made something in his chest ache as his mind threatened to spiral off into potential reasons for that, so Stiles quickly shoved it into the deep recesses of his mind.

"Okay then," John said afterwards, when he had a mug of coffee in front of him and Stiles had finished clearing the table. "I think there are some things we should probably talk about."

Stiles murmured an agreement. Isaac nodded stiffly.

"Regarding your living situation, Isaac, I think it's best if we don't continuously move you about during such a tumultuous period. To that end, you can stay here until the whole situation is dealt with, one way or another. We can revisit the topic again then."

Stiles sent his dad a grateful look. Putting teenagers into the system was rough enough already; it absolutely wasn't something that needed to be dumped on top of someone going through court proceedings or anything close to it.

Isaac muttered a quiet "Thanks," while staring resolutely down at the table.

"All right then. Now, this next point is just a suggestion, okay?"

John waited until Isaac nodded again.

"Okay. I think you should find someone to talk to about all this." He raised a palm to forestall the immediate protests he could see forming in Isaac's expression. "I wouldn't personally recommend choosing myself or Stiles. I wouldn't be able to promise to keep whatever you tell me 'off the record' and not let it reflect upon my dealings with your father. As for Stiles, regardless of how much he might already know, it would probably be better to talk about it with someone outside of this house. You'll want a safe space to talk, and a safe space removed from those discussions."

He definitely wanted to say something insulting about me, Stiles thought to himself, but he swerved around it pretty well.

"But having said that, I'm not saying you have to find a professional, or spend time at the hospital talking to someone on staff there. Just find someone – anyone – who you think you'd feel comfortable talking with."

"You could talk to Miss Morrell," Stiles suggested. "You can hide out in her office for a while if school sucks, and you don't even have to talk to her about this stuff if you don't want to. She can be a little bit, uh… intense, sometimes, but she's very open-minded." Catching a glimpse of his dad's confusion, he added, "She's the school's guidance counsellor. I've only talked to her once, but I don't think she's a bad option."

"I'll… think about it," Isaac hedged.

Stiles shrugged. That was a positive enough reaction for now. God knows Stiles never wanted to talk about the festering darkness in his own mind, he didn't have much right to go about telling other people to talk about their feelings.

oOoOo

Isaac didn't talk much that day.

Stiles set himself up in the lounge instead of his room in case Isaac wanted company but might've balked at the prospect of asking permission to be in his private spaces.

He drifted in and out over the course of the day, always quiet. Stiles exerted a conscious effort not to track him as he wandered about the rest of the house, determined to allow him the privacy Isaac would assume he had, even though worry made it harder to do.

oOoOo

Shut away in his room that evening, Stiles dug out his Tale-of-Future's-Past notebook. Opening it up to a blank page he dated it and wrote UPDATE at the top. He had a few thoughts that needed sorting.

· Isaac is staying with us, indefinitely I guess. He's probably going to let us lay charges against his father? I'm optimistic anyway. CPS will want to put him into the system after that, but it would be better to avoid that if we can. I'll talk to dad about it later. They obviously didn't care that much last time if they just let him bounce between Derek's place and the McCalls' without comment.

· Kate is still in town? I thought she was just here to visit, but she must've caught wind of Derek being back in BH and now she doesn't want to leave. Apart from the fact that she stopped me in the street and forced Allison to introduce me to her (honestly, fuck that) I've been trying to avoid her as best I can.

· Kate is dangerous and conniving, but as long as Gerard stays way the fuck out of town I think I can deal with it.

· Note to self: don't do anything that might make Gerard want to poke his nose into things. (Ask Chris/Allison to give me a heads up if they hear he's coming to visit?)

· For the time being, my contacts haven't said anything to imply that Deucalion might be heading our way. Let's hope that stays true. I'd rather see him than Gerard, but the best outcome is obviously neither of them barging into town.

Sighing down at what he'd written, Stiles shoved the notebook aside with a tired huff and booted up his laptop. He had homework to do and, no matter how repetitive it might seem, unfortunately it wouldn't do itself.