The Sheriff was pouring over the photos from the newest crime scene for what seemed like the hundredth time that night when something caught his attention about the body.

He immediately reached for his phone and dialed Stiles's number.

"Hi you've reached Stiles Stilinski. I'm either out hunting werewolves right now or I don't want to talk to you. Leave a message if you want."

Stilinski checked his watch. It was 11:30 pm, Stiles should be at home getting ready for bed at this time. His stomach instinctively began to churn in what he hoped was just normal parental worry, instead of parental intuition.

Without having to think about it he dialed the number of the one person who always seems to know where his son is.

"Hello? Sheriff?" Scott answered on the third ring.

"Hey Scott, I know it's late, but you aren't with Stiles right now by any chance, are you?"

He could hear Scott's breathing catch on the other end, as he could sense the Sheriff's unease.

"No, he's not with me. I saw him a couple of hours ago, though, and he left kind of upset. I was actually considering going over there and seeing if he was still mad. Is everything okay?" Scott couldn't hide the nervousness that crept into his voice.

"I don't know. He didn't answer my call and I just have a really bad feeling. It's probably nothing, but would you mind going to the house to check on him?" The Sheriff could already hear Scott's motorbike growling as it started up and he couldn't help but smile. Stiles truly was lucky to have Scott as a best friend.

"I'm on my way." Scott hung up and sped towards the Stilinkski residence, dread already pooling in the pit of his stomach.

When Scott arrived at Stiles's house, the first thing he saw was the light blue Jeep sitting idly in the driveway. Scott sighed in relief at the sight of the old hunk of steel because that meant that Stiles was safely inside, probably playing video games or pouring over research about the mystery killer.

Scott hesitated after turning off his bike. He briefly worried how Stiles would react to him after what happened at Derek's flat, but he soon realized that their friendship had gone through much worse and that Stiles was probably sitting inside waiting for him to come over.

The relief he felt at seeing the Jeep soon turned to panic, however, when Scott noticed that the front door was hanging open. His senses went into overdrive and he allowed himself to wolf out slightly as he cautiously approached the door.

When he stepped over the threshold his nose got assaulted with smells. He shut his eyes to try and focus on the specifics and he was even more terrified by what he found. He was able to distinctly smell fear and pain and blood. Lots of blood. Stiles's blood.

Terror flooded his body and his brain immediately began looking for clues as to what happened. He found Stiles's cell phone smashed on the ground and his shoes had been kicked off. The attacker must have been waiting for Stiles when he came home, which made Scott feel even worse that he hadn't come directly over after the meeting.

Scott pulled out his phone to call the Sheriff when something shiny caught his eye. He walked back to the front door and found a picture tucked into the door hinges. When he unraveled it he almost threw up.

The photo was of Stiles, bound and gagged to a chair. He seemed to be unconscious, which didn't surprise Scott at all, as his entire face was covered in cuts and bruises. His left eye was swollen shut and blood was trickling down his face from a particularly nasty wound near his forehead.

Scott shakily turned over the picture in his hand and found writing on the back.

Find him. Come alone. Nobody else gets hurt.

The uneasiness in Scott's stomach intensified as he slowly put his phone back in his pocket, discouraged from calling the Sheriff. He could practically smell the trap, but when it comes to Stiles, he would be willing to walk into any trap to make sure he was safe. Scott felt so guilty about the way he had treated Stiles recently. He thought about how Stiles had never let him down, even though Scott had ignored him time and time again because of Allison. Scott had simply come to expect Stiles to always be there for him and he had let his obsession with Allison and the pack take him away from focusing on Stiles and their friendship.

Scott felt tears sting his eyes as he looked down at the picture one more time before crumpling it up and stuffing it into his pocket. His eyes glowed red and he realized that he was beyond angry. He was going to find whoever kidnapped Stiles and rip them limb from limb.