Sheriff Stilinski sighed loudly and ran his hands through his hair. The mountain of paperwork he had been working on all morning seemed to have multiplied when he turned his back. He could have sworn he was almost done but there it loomed in front of him, promising hours of more tedious reports to read and duplicates to make. He sighed again, and then once more for good measure.
His secretary Maria overheard him and looked over at his desk with a raised brow. Everybody in the station who knew the Sheriff and his son knew that Stiles took after his mother in many things, but some traits – like a lack of patience – came directly from his father. Although the Sheriff was very good at hiding his impatience on most days, today wasn't one of them.
"Why don't you make yourself scarce for a little bit, Sheriff," Maria said, rolling her eyes at him. "A bit of fresh air might be good for you."
The Sheriff threw down his pen and stood up, stretching the tension from his shoulders and walked out of his office.
"And for the rest of us," Maria added under her breath, loud enough for him to hear.
"Alright, I can take a hint," he said, chuckling. "Any calls come in?"
"There's a call we got about a suspicious looking vehicle out by the old Hale place," she said, looking down at the log book. "And Mrs Collins called again about her dog going missing."
The Sheriff nodded as he strapped his gun into his holster. "Ok, I'll head over to the Hale place and keep my eyes open for Toto."
And with that he headed out towards his cruiser.
/
Stiles opened his eyes with a groan. There was a pounding in his head that matched the frantic rhythm of his heartbeat and a stale metallic taste in his mouth. He tried to turn his head to the side to survey his surroundings but the movement made him dizzy and his stomach lurched. He gagged, and held himself very still as he waited for the room to stop spinning. Wherever he was was very dark and the sounds of dripping water on concrete echoed throughout the space. Stiles felt a cool draft caress his face and he inhaled slowly, trying to get his wits about him.
When he felt better enough to try to move again, and the pounding in his head had receded to a dull ache, he tried to lift his arms to push himself into a more comfortable position but found that they were tied to the arms of the chair he was sitting in. He slowly tilted his head to the side and saw a dim shaft of light piercing through a grimy window placed high up in the wall. To the other side was a heavy looking door, the kind that bolted from the outside and turned the room he was being held captive in look more like a dungeon or a jail cell than he was comfortable with.
He tried calling out for help, but his voice was hoarse and clearing his throat brought a sharp edge to the throbbing in his head.
It looked like he had no other option but to sit and wait for someone to rescue him.
Stiles snorted, and then promptly let out a low moan as the noise sent a spike of pain lancing through his head. Yeah, sit and wait to be rescued. By who? Dad's working a double and Scott's probably too busy with Allison to even notice I'm gone. That leaves Derek… Who probably wouldn't care either way, he thought to himself. He probably waited for me to fall asleep last night and then skipped town so he wouldn't have to deal with an embarrassing teenager crushing on him. He's probably halfway across America by now.
With a sigh, Stiles shifted as much as his bonds would let him and focused on flexing his wrists back and forth in an effort to fray the rope against the old splintered wood.
/
"So you two are Stiles' cousins?" Derek asked. "And you had no idea about it. How does that even work?"
Dean opened his mouth to reply but shut it when Castiel shot him a look and Sam sighed loudly.
"It's because our Dad never told us about his family," Sam said with frustration. "He got into the hunting business bent on revenge after a demon killed our mother. Mom came from a hunting family but gave up the life and never told Dad about it. We knew Dad had a brother who died when they were kids named Michael and that's where Dean's middle name came from, but Mom was an only child. Dad never mentioned anyone else so I guess we assumed that Michael was his only sibling."
"But you think that Stiles' mom was his sister and what? They just never spoke to each other in all the years since your mom died?" Derek said incredulously.
"Listen here wolfman," Dean said angrily, rising to his feet. "Just because our family wasn't anything like your little wolf pack, singing kumbaya and howling together under the moon, doesn't make you better than us."
Derek's eyes glowed briefly, and his hands twitched as he fought to keep his anger under control. "No," he said tightly. "I'm just having a hard time understanding how two Hunters, whose job it is to pick up on the tiniest pieces of detail and piece together the big picture, failed to realize just how much Stiles looks like Dean."
The Winchester brothers looked at each other dumbfounded while Castiel snorted, an action that seemed incongruous from an angel but was strangely suited to him. And frankly, it's adorable, Dean thought before his eyes widened and he stared ahead in horror at his use of the word adorable, especially in describing Cas. What the hell?
"The physical similarities to Dean are quite remarkable, and I would say, judging on what the Sheriff has said, that Stiles also seems to take after Dean in his penchant for getting into trouble," Cas said drily.
"Yeah, well, he's a nerd like Sammy," Dean retorted.
Sam just rolled his eyes.
/
The drive to the Hale house was quiet and the Sheriff rolled the windows down to enjoy the fresh air after being cramped in the office for so long. He drove at a lazy pace, knowing there wasn't much he would find at the Hale's old place when he got there. Generally, when a suspicious call came in, it turned out to be a couple of teenagers breaking into the old wreck on a dare or a couple making out in the woods. Once it had been skinny-looking photographer, wearing an out-of-season scarf and black framed glasses the Sheriff suspected didn't even have lenses, who had been taking pictures of abandoned houses for some art project.
As the Sheriff neared the turn-off into the woods, he slowed his cruiser and pulled over on the side of the road. Looking around, he crossed the road and took a few steps into the forest. After years, he quickly found the tree that had been marked 17 years prior – a faded heart adorned one of the lower branches of an old birch tree, and below it a set of completed dates more recently traced into the bark. He placed a palm on the tree and closed his eyes.
"Cassie, I really need you," he said quietly. "You'd know what to do about Stiles. He won't talk to me anymore and I feel like he's hiding things from me. Important things."
He let out a huff of a laugh.
"Well, I guess I can't complain too much about him keeping important things from me. After all, I'm pretty sure he'd think me keeping things like demons from him pretty damn important."
He paused and took a deep breath. "The boys are in town again. I asked them to come because I'm pretty sure that thing that took you away from me is back. And I'll be damned if it takes our son away too."
A soft breeze picked up and leaves from nearby trees swirled around the Sheriff who stood in the middle of the floral cyclone. He felt the wind caress his cheek and a feeling of peace and determination stole over him. It's almost over, it seemed to say.
He closed his eyes again and bid his wife goodbye before he turned around and walked back to his cruiser without a backwards glance.
The leaves formed a shape that seemed to reach out to him as he walked away, but then the wind died and it was gone.
Not many people knew about the secret marker the Sheriff had made for his wife just meters away from the place where she died, not even Stiles. Even fewer knew the significance of the spot, or the tree where their names were carved. It was in the clearing marked by the birch tree that Cassie had told him that she was pregnant with Stiles. They had been walking around the forest shortly after moving to Beacon Hills and had stopped to have a picnic underneath the tree. Although his wounded shoulder was still healing, he had been carving their names in the tree when Cassie came up behind him, took the knife and added a +1 underneath. Despite his injuries, he had picked her up in his arms and twirled her around the clearing.
He continued towards the Hale house, memories of happier times clouding his thoughts as he parked out front and exited the vehicle.
Distracted, he noticed several different tire tracks and the scuff marks from a couple pairs of feet but couldn't discern which direction they were headed in. He walked towards the front door – which had been nailed shut when the county had declared the property unsafe – but was now hanging ajar. Entering the scarred ruins of the house, the Sheriff noted that there appeared to be fresh tracks in the dust leading towards the living room and up the stairs. A brief glance into the living room showed him that the empty room held no clues about the intrusion, so he headed up the dilapidated stairs, carefully skirting the massive hole in the centre, treading carefully in case a board decided to break under his weight. Once on the second floor, he cautiously began checking through bedrooms. He knew from the coroner's report that the majority of the family had been trapped in the basement when the house caught fire – which, while suspicious, did not warrant any further investigation into the matter – but he still averted his eyes from the large stains on the floor of one of the bedrooms.
It was in the final bedroom at the end of the hall that the Sheriff found what he was looking for: a pile of blankets in the corner and a few empty coffee cups and takeout bags scattered around. It was clear that someone was living in the old house, but the question was who? Who would dare try to live in a burnt out shell of a building where so many innocent people died?
The Sheriff stood above the mess on the floor and tried to find more clues about the squatter but he found nothing to point him in the right direction. A glance out the window into the backyard didn't reveal any more answers and he turned to leave, when something caught the corner of his eye. An errant beam of sunlight glinted off something metallic hidden in the leaves in the backyard. He headed downstairs carefully and walked around the house to the backyard, eyes scanning the ground to find the object, growing frustrated when he couldn't locate it again.
Suddenly, there it was again – sunlight glinting off the metal, revealing itself as a set of keys.
The Sheriff bent down to pick them up and nearly dropped them when he saw what they were for.
Car keys to a Jeep.
Stiles' Jeep.
/
Stiles paused in his attempt to fray his bindings, and listened closely. The repetitious drip, drip of water somewhere had nearly driven him crazy at first, but now he could tune it out and he struggled to hear beyond the confines of his concrete cell.
Nothing.
He heard nothing.
Maybe the dripping water had driven him crazy.
Just as he was about to start rubbing the ropes against the edge of his chair again, the sound came again. Faint, but clear as day.
His name.
Someone was calling his name. Stiles was gobsmacked. Not only had someone noticed he was missing, but they were actually actively looking for him before 24 hours had passed. It was more than he ever hoped for.
Just as he opened his mouth to yell his location (although he still wasn't quite sure what that was, exactly, he did have a horrifying idea of where he was being held) the door to the room swung open on oiled hinges and a large cocker spaniel rushed in to lick his face.
"Toto?!" he gasped. Had it been old Mrs. Collins who had found him? Not good, not good at all. "Mrs. Collins, quick call 911 and get out of here, it's not-" The words died in his throat as he saw who walked through the door.
"It's not what? Safe?" Kate Argent purred as she sauntered into the room. The dog cowered behind Stiles' chair. "It's just lil old me, what's there to be afraid of?"
She blinked and her eyes were as black as night. Toto began growling and bearing his teeth at her and she tilted back her head and laughed.
"C'mere, mutt," she said as she lunged towards Toto and grabbed him by the collar. With one swift motion, she pulled a wicked looking dagger from the holster at her hip and moved to draw it across the dog's throat. Stiles closed his eyes tight and he heard Toto give a high pitched whine as Kate whispered something he couldn't make out. A rush of wind invaded the small room briefly and a red glow pushed itself past his eyelids. He gasped as he opened his eyes and saw Kate hunched over the dog's body, while the red glow passed from Toto into a pendant hanging from her neck.
And seriously? First werewolves and now soul-sucking demons?
"I seriously do not get paid enough for this," Stiles muttered to himself before turning to the demon on the other side of the room. "Hey, psycho! I'm not much into voyeurism, so this whole show is lost on me. Why don't you say your evil monologue, detailing your whole plan, so that when my dad comes busting through that door to save me and kick your ass, everyone will know just how much of a nut job you truly are."
Stiles' sense of self-preservation winced internally at his words. His bravado, as per usual, not only covered up his sheer terror at the situation he found himself in, but also the quiet sound of him struggling harder against his bonds. He knew he probably shouldn't provoke the supernatural creature who clearly had no qualms about killing things, but never one to listen to that little voice inside his head, he continued.
"So killing small, helpless animals is your thing, is it?" he said. "You know the next step after that is holding innocents captive in basements and going on a serial killer rampage."
The demon turned to Stiles and a slow, evil grin spread across its face. Flicking its eyes back to human, the monster with Kate Argent's face laughed and said, "Looks like I can cross those both off my list already."
The blood in his veins turned to ice water as he recognized the laugh and all the little pieces fell into place. If his hands had been untied, he would have facepalmed himself for stupidly saying anything at all.
But he wasn't, and he couldn't, so he went with the next best thing: keep talking.
"I thought I recognized your voice. You were the one who trapped the Hales and burnt their house down," he said angrily. "You were the one who killed my mom."
Kate's eyes flicked back to black. "Interesting, so you're the Seer's son… It looks like a Gift has been passed down to you as well. Even better. It seems I shall wrap up all my loose ends tonight – the last of the Hales, the son of the Seer who thwarted me and those damned Winchesters."
Stiles' head was reeling from the information the demon had given him. What the hell does 'Seer' mean? Is that why Mom knew all that stuff before it happened? Is that why I knew what happened that night? And what does she want with Derek and Sam and Dean?
"Derek, ok, I get what you want with him – last of his family and all that jazz. I take it you were the one who cut his sister in half?" A glance at Kate confirmed his suspicion. "Yep, thought so. So him – I get. But what do you want with Sam and Dean? And what the hell is up with you saying my mom 'thwarted' you? What is this, a Scooby-Doo mystery?"
The demon rose to her feet and sauntered over to Stiles' chair. Eyes flicking back to normal, she swung a leg over his knees and sat down in his lap. Kate grinned wickedly as she bent close and ran her tongue up his neck. Stiles gasped in shock and tried to shy away from the contact but the chair prevented him from leaning very far. Kate laughed and ran her hands slowly up and down Stiles' chest and he felt his heartbeat ratchet up a couple notches and his breathing started coming in short, angry gasps. Now is so not the time for a panic attack Stilinski, get it together. He took a deep breath and tried to calm down as Kate slid deeper into his lap, pressing herself up against him and leaning in to kiss his neck.
"What's the matter, handsome?" she purred into his ear. "I thought you liked monsters in your bed."
/
The Sheriff took a deep breath and called his son's name one more time before heading to his cruiser. He searched for his phone and dialed Stiles' cell phone.
It rang several times before it went to voicemail. Tersely, he left a message instructing his son to call him immediately.
He sighed as he dialed Scott's home phone number. Melissa answered and told him that she hadn't seen Stiles at all that day, but that Scott had left early that morning and maybe they were together?
The Sheriff thanked her and hung up, immediately dialing Scott's cell phone as he put the cruiser into gear and turned around in the yard, heading for the road. There's no need to panic, one's an incident and two's a coincidence. Nothing's wrong.
Scott picked up on the fifth ring with a sleepy 'hello?' and the Sheriff knew his son wasn't with him.
"No, sorry Sheriff, I actually haven't heard from Stiles today," Scott said. "I've been hanging out with A- another friend."
"Thanks Scott. If you see or hear from him, tell him I'm looking for him," the Sheriff said, hanging up as he headed towards his house.
Three's a pattern. A lump settled itself in his stomach, as he considered the implications.
There's something on the loose in this town, tearing up animals and people, and my nephews who hunt supernatural things are in town investigating possible demon omens. He pulled up in front of his house and stared at the empty driveway.
And now my son is missing.
/
A white hot rage clouded his vision at the mention of Derek and with a wrench, he snapped the frayed rope holding his hands down and shoved the demon bitch off his lap.
"What do you want with them?!" Stiles demanded. Only 'them' came out as 'him' and Stiles found himself not caring about the implications the difference meant.
Kate looked up at him from where she was still sprawled on the floor – blocking the only exit. Great.
With a smile, she flicked her hand and Stiles felt himself go flying backwards, hitting the concrete wall and being held immobilized six inches off the ground.
Bottomless black eyes found his again and she laughed. Seriously, what is it with evil villains and their laughing? It doesn't do anything to prove their mental stability, Stiles thought idly to himself.
"What do I want with him? The same thing I wanted with his whole family – their souls, or whatever life force passes itself off as one in werewolves. I'm going to open a gateway, and I need a lot of energy to do it," she said rising from the floor. "And from that gateway will emerge a most terrifying creature and he will do my bidding, and when we capture the infamous Winchesters the Master will reward us. You will only serve as petty retribution because your mother thwarted my attempts to collect the souls of those trapped in this house when we set it on fire."
"But why them?" he asked, desperately trying to free himself to no avail. "Why not find another family of wolves?"
The demon shrugged. "Sentimentality, I guess. When I took over this body, she was already trying to learn as much about the wolves as she could. So much potential, she had. I just gave her a little nudge in the right direction."
"How?"
The word was out of his mouth faster than he had time to think and not surprising to him – his brain-mouth filter was faulty on the best of days – but the glint in the demon's eyes sent a shiver down his spine, and suddenly he wasn't so sure he wanted to know.
With a smirk on its face, the demon told Stiles everything – in incredible detail – and Stiles tried very hard not to throw up.
/
The Sheriff scrubbed a hand over his face and turned his cruiser around, heading for the motel at the edge of town he had directed the Winchesters to two nights before. He asked the clerk at the front desk which room they were in and headed down the side of the motel before stopping at the right door. He raised his hand to knock but suddenly the door wasn't there anymore. Instead, a dark-haired man in a trenchcoat stood in its place.
"Sheriff, it is a pleasure to finally meet you," he said in a gravelly voice. "I've heard much about you. I'm assuming you're here to discuss the demon."
"Cas," came a voice from inside the room. "I told you: you answer the door after they knock and then invite them in before you bombard them with information."
Suddenly the door opened wider and Dean was standing next to the strange man in the doorway.
"Sheriff," he said with a tight smile on his face. "Or should I just call you 'Uncle'?"
The Sheriff let out a sigh and rolled his eyes heavenward. "John never told you." It wasn't so much a question as it was acknowledgement of what the Sheriff knew about their father.
"Call me Jonathan and it seems like we have a lot to talk about," he began, shouldering past them into the room, nodding to Sam who was seated in front of his laptop. "Like who is the angel who answered your door and what else do you know about your family? But first of all, where the hell is my son?"
The room erupted into questions as the Sheriff's tirade finished.
"How did you about-" Cas and Dean both started to say.
"What else is there to know about our family?" Sam asked.
"What about Stiles?" a voice from the back of the room growled.
The four men stopped and turned as one to Derek, who had been summarily forgotten in the Sheriff's arrival. His eyes were electric blue and his fangs and claws gave him away as the supernatural being he was. There is no more hiding it from the Sheriff, he thought to himself, that will make it easier for Stiles. His heart pounded in his chest as his mind processed the Sheriff's words. Where the hell is my son. He growled.
The Sheriff slowly reached for his holster as he spoke. "Derek Hale. What the hell are you and what do you know about my son?"
Derek shook his head and forced the transformation back, although his eyes remained bright blue. "How long has he been missing?"
Jonathan made an impatient noise. "Son, I'm the one asking the questions here. And somebody better start giving me answers pretty damn soon."
Derek took a deep breath. "I'm a werewolf," he said, pausing. "Sir."
"Loup garou," Castiel corrected. Dean rolled his eyes.
"Okay," the Sheriff said, re-holstering his gun. "Okay. So we've got a demon in town," he turned to Sam and Dean, "and a werewolf in town," he turned to Derek, "and an angel." He turned to Castiel. "Anything else I should know about?"
The first three just stood there gaping, while Castiel tilted his head, thinking for a moment.
"Well, aside from the family of Hunters that moved in a couple months ago, the only other thing you should know about is the seventeen-year-old Banshee across town, but I don't think she'll be a problem."
Jonathan gaped at the angel, and then sat down heavily in the chair next to Sam. "Well. That was a lot to process all at once. Someone want to start explaining just what the hell is going on here?"
Sam swung the laptop around to face the Sheriff and he began explaining the lore about the Nephilim and the 'angelic monsters,' as Dean had taken to calling them.
"So all Hunters are descendants of angel-human hybrids and werewolves do exist?" he asked after Sam had finished.
"Among other… things," Sam said awkwardly. "There's a lot out there to take in at once."
"So how does the demon factor in to all of this?" he asked turning to Dean and Castiel.
"We're not quite sure," Dean said. "But we're working on it. How did you know Cas here was an angel?"
"His aura," the Sheriff said simply.
Dean turned to squint at the angel. "His aura?"
"Yeah, when I was a kid, I could tell what kind of person someone was based on the colour of their aura. Given the fact that I haven't been able to do that for years and how Castiel," – he rolled the name around like it was a question, glancing at the angel to make sure he had pronounced it right – "given how Castiel's aura forms wings, it wasn't a hard conclusion to come to."
"You can see my wings?" Cas said, unsure.
The Sheriff nodded and turned to Derek. "So you're a werewolf?"
"Loup garou," Castiel muttered under his breath, clearly bouncing back quickly from the shock of finding out his wings were visible to the Sheriff.
"Yes, my whole family was, with a few exceptions," Derek said, pausing before quietly continuing. "That's why Kate Argent locked them inside my home before lighting it on fire."
A brief look of shock passed over the Sheriff's face before he schooled his expression. "I take it she was a Hunter?" At Derek's nod, he turned to the Winchester brothers. "Is that how you conduct your business too?"
"Lighting a houseful of innocent people on fire? No," Sam said. "We hunt the monsters that are attacking people and put them down, but we don't go after … people… who haven't done anything."
"Although, to be fair, we just found out there are good monsters out there," Dean started to say, but a look from Sam had him quickly backtracking. "But based off the murders committed by the monsters we've taken down, I think it's safe to say they weren't innocent."
"Something tells me, as a member of law enforcement, I don't want to know what 'taking down' consists of," the Sheriff said wryly.
Dean had the good grace to look abashed.
"So those animal attacks, were they committed by the demon?" the Sheriff asked the men gathered in the room.
"No," Derek said, shaking his head. "My sister came here to investigate the animal attacks before she was murdered. She thought there might be another werewolf moving into the territory but I never found out from her what she found. Whatever killed her wasn't another wolf though, the smell was all wrong."
"How do we know if it was the demon that killed her?" Jonathan asked.
"Well it's too late to check now, but usually if there's sulfur at the scene, it's a good indicator that you're dealing with demons," Sam said. "After we get this mess sorted out, Dean and I will give you a crash course on demons."
"And any other supernatural things that might come your way," Dean said, with a suspicious glance at Derek.
Derek caught the look, and snorted. "Don't think you have the right information in that book of yours to take care of my kind, Hunter. My family used to have a set of genuine silverware we'd use for special occasions, silver bullets won't put me down."
While Dean filed that information away for another time, Castiel cocked his head to the side and said, "We're about to have another visitor, Dean."
Sure enough the door to the motel room crashed open and Scott McCall tumbled in, fully wolfed out and growling at the strange men surrounding Derek.
"Scott?" the Sheriff said, startling Scott, who turned around and looked at the man with wide eyes.
Concentration on the perceived threat broken, Scott's features returned to normal. "Um, hi Sheriff Stilinski," he said with an awkward wave.
Jonathan looked up at the ceiling briefly before turning back to Scott.
"Well this explains so much."