Stiles was doing his homework in his room, when he heard the phone ring. He instantly jumped out of his seat, and hurried into the hallway.
"I got it!" He heard his dad shout from the living room. Stiles picked up the receiver, and listened in.
". . . Dr. Ford, Glad to hear from you." John said. "Do you have the MRI results?" he asked, sounding anxious.
"I do, John. It's not looking good." Dr. Ford said, sounding apologetic. "We believe Claudia has what is called frontotemporal dementia." He said. "Her frontal and temporal lobes in her brain are shrinking, which is why she's been having those nightmares, and massive headaches."
"What do we do? Is there surgery or something?" John Stilinski asked, hoping for good news.
"Unfortunately, there is no cure for FTD. There's nothing we can do for her. She will eventually have to be hospitalized, i'm so sorry, John." Dr. Ford said. "We don't know how long she'll live. It may be months, or years."
"There must be something you can do." John pleaded, the voice of a desperate man.
Stiles carefully hung up the phone, and went into his room.
"Scott?" He said on the walky-talky. "Please answer me. I'm freaking out right now."
After a few minutes of silence, the radio crackled to life. "Stiles, what's up?" Scott asked.
"My mom might be dying. I'm coming over." He said, putting on his hoody and going downstairs. Stiles saw his dad was still on the phone with Dr. Ford, and he slipped out the front door.
"Okay, tell me again what you heard." Scott said, sitting cross-legged beside his friend.
Stiles took a deep breath, and started from the beginning.
"We should research it." Stiles said, hopping off the bed, and prying open the lid of Scott's laptop. "If my parents aren't going to fill me in on what's going on, I'm gonna find out as much as I can about this disease on my own." He said, opening google and Wikipedia.
When Melissa came home from work, she found the two boys working hard at the computer. Scott jumped up to greet her.
"We're doing a science project." He lied, as she curiously glanced at the screen.
"Really?" She asked, wondering why her son looked so flustered. Looking at the screens, she found six tabs of medical websites. "That's some heavy reading material, Stiles." She said, smiling down at him. Stiles shrugged, and continued reading. "Okay, well, have fun guys." She said.
As soon as she left the room, Stiles took a swig of his pepsi, and glanced over to see Derek sitting on Scott's bed. He suddenly had an idea.
"Derek, how do you turn someone into a werewolf?" Stiles asked.
"The Alpha needs to bite the person. And if they survive the bite, they become a Beta or an Omega."Derek said.
"You have to give her the bite." Stiles insisted.
Derek raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I can't."
"Why not?" Scott asked. "What if it saves her?" He asked, hopeful.
"You're forgetting that i'm imaginary. I can't actually bite anyone even if I wanted to." Derek said, scowling at the kid.
"You have to do something. We have to save her. She's my Mom, Derek." Stiles said, standing up. "Please."
Derek shook his head.
"I don't mind if mom's a werewolf. I'll take care of her on full moons." He said, pleading.
Derek stood up, and wrapped his arms around Stiles. He pulled Scott forward by his t-shirt. "Come here." He said, hugging both nine year olds in a bear hug.
"I'm really sorry about your mom." Derek said, finally releasing them.
There was a knock on the door, and John Stilinski walked in. "Stiles, I've been looking everywhere for you." He said, as his son glanced uneasily at the laptop.
"Hey, Dad." Stiles said, closing the lid on Scott' s laptop before his dad could see what they'd been researching.
"It's nearly suppertime, grab your coat." John said.
Scott and Stiles exchanged a quick look as Stiles followed his dad out of the room.
"I'll call you later!" Stiles said, as he walked down the stairs. "Bye, Melissa."
Stiles got into the backseat of his dad's vehicle, and buckled his seatbelt.
"What say we go to McDonald's?" John asked, looking to his wife.
Stiles gave his dad a suspicious look. "We never go to mcDonald's." Stiles realized his parents were probably treating him so they could break the news about Claudia's illness.
"Is this about the MRI results?" Stiles asked. John turned around in his seat to look at him, surprised.
"I heard you on the phone earlier. Frontotemporal Dementia." Stiles explained. "Mom, you're dying, aren't you?" He said.
"Yeah." Claudia said. "I am."
"We don't know how long she has. Months or years, maybe." John said, defeated. "She's going to be in the hospital for a long time."
They drove to the restaurant, and Stiles chose a booth near the back. He took a sip of soda, his appetite gone.
"Are we gonna be okay?" Stiles asked. "Mom usually drives me to school, and helps me with homework and stuff." Stiles said, trying to envision his dad taking on both parental roles. Being a single parent.
"We're gonna have to learn to adapt." John said. Stiles slid out of the booth, and hugged his mom tightly. "I love you, mom." He said. Stiles let go, and hugged his dad. "I love you, dad." He said.
