Stiles sat at the kitchen table, knee bouncing. His dad was in the other room on the phone with Will Redding, Stiles old Oncologist. He heard his dad hang up the phone and walk back into the kitchen. Stiles looked up at him before quickly looking down. He hated seeing that pained expression on his Dad's face. John sat down heavily in one of the wooden chairs.

"You have an appointment with Dr. Redding in an hour. You should go upstairs and get dressed."

Stiles nodded, unusually quiet, and went to go change out of his sweat pants. He walked into his room and closed the door, leaning against it.

"Stiles?"

Stiles jumped and pushed himself off the door. Scott was sitting on his windowsill, halfway climbing down.

"Damn it Scott! Bells! All you damn werewolves are going to wear bells!"

Scott smirked and dropped down into Stiles' room.

"Dude, were having a pack meeting soon. Come on, we have to go now or Derek will get pissed if we're late again."

Stiles let the smile drop from his face. Shit, there's a pack meeting today.

"Sorry dude, but I can't make it today. My-my Dad wants to spend the day with me."

Scott raised an eyebrow. It was a total Spock.

"Dude, don't give me the Mr. Spock eyebrow. He says it's like a father son bonding day or something."

Scott frowned but nodded.

"Yeah, alright man. But it's your funeral."

Scott jumped out the window and started to run towards the abandoned subway tracks. Stiles swallowed, suppressing the urge to throw up. But it's your funeral. Derek may not kill him, but Stiles had a feeling that he may not need to.

His cancer would most likely kill him first.

Stiles lifted up the plastic spoon and watched as the pink strawberry yogurt plopped back into the small container. He placed the spoon back in and pulled it up again. John Stillinski sat across the small table that was really only designed for one person to sit at. Right now they were sitting in the hospital cafeteria, waiting for 11o'clock to roll around.

When they first got to the hospital, Dr. Redding had examined Stiles and conceded that his leukemia was most likely back. However, to be sure, Stile would have to get a bone marrow biopsy and lumbar puncture. Both of which involved large needles and pain.

John sighed as his son lifted up a glob of yogurt, only to watch it drip back down.

"Genim, I know you're nervous, but you really need to eat."

Stiles just dropped the spoon into the plastic container and pushed it away from him.

"No thanks, Dad. You know that every time I get a bone marrow biopsy, I throw up."

The former sheriff reached across the table and tousled Stiles' short hair.

"Yeah, kid. Alright. Now why don't you tell me what you and Scott have been up to recently."

Stiles smiled.

"Well our little group of friends has gotten bigger."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. There's Scott and me, but now there's Allison, Danny, Lydia, Jackson-"

John interrupted his son.

"Wait, Jackson Whittemore? The kid who's bullied you and Scott since 3rd grade. That Jackson?"

Stiles chuckled slightly.

"Yeah, that Jackson. We're not the closest of friends, but he's pretty cool once you get to know him."

John nodded for Stiles to continue.

"Then there's Isaac-"

"The kid who was abused by his dad?"

"Yeah. We've all been working with getting him to open up. Trying to get him not so afraid. And then we have Boyd and Erica."

Stiles finished listing the pack, purposely leaving out Derek. Here was no need to give his Dad a heart attack. Of course, they were in a hospital. The teenager smiled at his own joke, and glanced at the clock. It was a quarter till 11.

John noticed his son's pale face and looked up at the clock as well. He stood and pulled on Stiles until he was following behind him.

"Come on squirt, let's go."

Stiles screamed as the needle forced its way through his bone. His hands clawed desperately at the thin white sheets that lay underneath him. Tears were streaming down his face as he yelled in agony. Another sharp blow from the hammer had the needle into his hip bone.

Six pairs of hands held him down as he tried to thrash away from the pain. Someone was calling his name, trying to draw him away from the pain.

"Stiles! Genim, look at me! It's okay, it's going to be okay!"

Through the haze, he recognized his father's voice. Before he could even try to respond, a sharp tugging feeling spread throughout his hip. Stiles threw back his head, eyes clouded over in pain. He screamed as more tears came. A sharp yank and the burning pain of the cold needle was gone.

Stiles dropped his sweaty head down onto the small white pillow. He could feel bile rise in his throat. He moaned a warning, but one of the nurses must have seen it coming and had a metal pale in front of him. Stomach acid and blood was all that came up, the blood coming from when he had bit the inside of his cheek. Stiles dry heaved a couple more times before spitting into the bowl.

His dad patted the back of his head and neck, trying to give him some comfort. The doctor held up a large needle with a syringe, and Stiles could see his bone marrow through the clear plastic. It was a dark sludgy red, darker and thicker than blood. The doctor nodded at Stiles before turning to the elder Stillinski.

"I'll give him an hour of rest, but then we need to do the Lumbar Puncture."

Stiles let out a strangled sob.