Melissa McCall was grateful to see both the sheriff's squad car and Stiles' jeep when she pulled into the Stilinski's driveway. Her old car rattled as she put it in park and shut it off. Grabbing her tote bag, she made her way to the front door, intent on getting the answers she wanted. She rang the bell.
She could hear the TV blaring as one of the occupants walked to the front door. She steeled herself, hoping she didn't sound too ridiculous, when the sheriff opened the door.
"Melissa? How are you?" Mr. Stilinski was still in uniform and looked tired. Melissa knew that look, since she so often wore it herself.
"Hi. I was hoping I could talk to Stiles," she paused. "It's about Scott. I know it's late but this really can't wait."
Mr. Stilinski looked concerned. "Sure, sure, come in." He stepped aside to let her in. "Scott hasn't been here today, I don't think." He led her into the living room where Stiles was sitting on the couch, a large bucket of fried chicken in front of him. "Stiles? Mrs. McCall wants to talk to you."
Upon seeing her, Stiles sat up straighter. Stiles said hi or something like it. It was hard to tell with a drumstick in his mouth. She watched as his father motioned for him to take it out. "Hey, Mrs. McCall, what's up?" he tried to sound cheerful, like usual. She studied his expression briefly, trying to judge if he knew why she was here. Melissa sat down in the arm chair next to Stiles, with his dad across from her on the other end of the couch. She noticed Mr. Stilinski's glass of whiskey on the table. He caught her staring. "Uh, would you like some?"
Melissa smiled politely but declined. She instead turned the focus immediately to her topic. "It's Scott."
Pointing the remote at the TV, Stiles turned it off. "What about Scott?" he asked, shrugging his shoulders. He gave both adults a lopsided smile, a small attempt at diffusing the tense parental situation in front of him.
Melissa took in a breath before she started. She looked Stiles in the eyes and asked, "What is going on with him?"
"Ah, what do you mean?"
"You know what I mean, Stiles. You of all people should know what I mean," Melissa sighed. "Scott's been different, ever since the beginning of the school year."
Stiles looked down, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, no offense, but he's had a lot stuff... change this year, you know? Making first line and dating Allison, those are pretty big changes for Scott." He looked from his dad to Melissa trying to smile. The stony glare he got from her wiped it right off.
"No," she shook her head, "no, that's not it. And you know it's not what I'm talking about. I've brought this up with you before and you keep trying to brush it off."
Stiles sat there, staring at the bucket of chicken, for once unsure of how to respond to his best friend's mother.
With no response from Stiles, Melissa decided to try another tactic. "What were you and Scott texting about earlier?" she tried to ask nonchalantly.
"Texting? When?" Stiles looked up, confusion apparent on his face. "My phone's been charging in the other room since I got home." He paused. "I definitely haven't texted him since this afternoon." He got up to get his phone. Sure enough, when he returned, he showed the log of his incoming texts. The last one to Scott was at 3:32 pm. The last one from Scott was at 3:37 pm.
Melissa took the phone gently from him, looking at the text messages. They contained totally mundane high school banter, nothing out of the ordinary. She handed his phone back and rummaged through her bag for Scott's phone. "During dinner, Scott kept getting text messages, saying they were from you." She turned the phone on and showed the screen to Stiles and his father. "The only messages he got in the past hour were from a 'Derek Hale.'"
At the mention of the recent fugitive's name, Mr. Stilinski interrupted. "Stiles, why the hell would Scott have Derek Hale's phone number? And why would Scott be texting him?"
Now Stiles looked very uncomfortable. He was biting his thumb nail; a habit Melissa remembered was leftover from elementary school. It was a sure sign she was close to something. She decided to keep pressing Stiles.
"How did he get so good at lacrosse so fast? Why doesn't he need his inhalers anymore?" she paused. "This is way more than a new girlfriend and becoming the lacrosse co-captain. I'm not leaving here until I get the truth about what's going on with Scott. And you know. You know exactly what's going on with him." Melissa knew her voice was rising in volume but she didn't care.
Stiles steeled himself and said quite certainly, "I don't."
"Ok, fine. You want to play hardball, I'm game." Melissa reached again in her bag and pulled out the dog bowl with Scott's name on it. "I found this in Scott's room. Do you know where it came from?"
"Nope, never saw that before," Stiles shook his head.
Melissa turned it over to show the bottom. In sloppy handwriting, "made with love by Stiles" was on the bottom of the bowl. "Start talking."
Mr. Stilinski looked at his son. "Stiles, you'd make a horrible criminal mastermind, you know that?"
Stiles sighed, admitting his guilt. "Ok, so I have seen it before. I gave it to Scott as a joke."
"Why would he think it was funny? A dog bowl?" Melissa pressed.
"He didn't actually. He threw it at me," Stiles explained.
"Stiles," his father started, "if you know something, you better spit it out quick." Both parents were losing patience with him, and Stiles knew he couldn't get out of this.
Stiles pursed his lips together in aggravation and stood up. "I'll be right back," he mumbled. He disappeared from the living room and they could hear him bound up the stairs.
While they waited in uncomfortable silence, Melissa looked at Mr. Stilinski. "I think I'll have that drink after all." He nodded and got up to get her a glass. Melissa could hear Stiles coming down the stairs. He reappeared in the living room, carrying a box in his hands.
Melissa cocked her head to one side, questioning the reason for the box. Stiles walked over to the coffee table in front of her and laid the box down. His father returned with the promised drink for Melissa and handed it to her.
"Stiles, what is all this?" his father asked.
Stiles looked at Mrs. McCall. "So, you want answers? Here you go. This is what I used to put the pieces together. I figure you can too." She looked at him. The last time she saw Stiles this serious was his mother's funeral, years ago. The usually affable young man appeared stressed and upset.
Melissa put the drink down and started to sift through the box. It mostly contained library books. She picked one up. "European Myths and Legends?" Then another. "Creatures of the Night? Stiles, what the hell is this for?"
"What do you think it's for?" He indicated she should continue.
She reached in the box and pulled out another book and read the title to herself. Angrier than before, she stood up and threw the book back in the box. "Stiles, really? Do you and Scott think this is some kind of joke? Stop dicking us around!"
"That's actually a really good one," Stiles said, matter-of-fact, regarding the discarded book. He picked it up. "And it's not a joke. I'm not laughing." He held the book out, indicating she should take it back. Melissa looked at the book as if it would burn her. She wasn't going to touch it again. She didn't even want to look at it.
Stiles tried again. "You know it's not just Scott being good at lacrosse or not needing inhalers anymore that made you come over here tonight. Something happened tonight, right? What did you see? What did he do that made you come here?"
Melissa looked at her son's best friend. She saw the weariness now, the burden of carrying Scott's secret with him, in his face. 'He's too young to look like that,' she thought. She wanted to answer him, to tell him about the strange things she noticed: the howling, the way Scott reacted to it, his appetite, the claw marks on the window sill, his eyes...'No way,' she thought to herself, as she sat back down in her seat. She began to get a sick feeling in her stomach, like someone dropped an anvil inside her. Melissa reached for her glass and knocked back her shot of Jack anyway. She rested her elbows on her knees and placed her head in her hands. It felt like her heart dropped out of her chest to join the whiskey in her stomach. She needed a moment.
Stiles' father, however, had had enough of his son's antics. Putting down his empty glass, he took the book Stiles was holding so he could read the cover himself. "The Book of Were-wolves: A 19th Century Study of Lycanthropy? Are you serious, Stiles?" He then began to lay into his son about his odd behavior tonight. "You know what, this is ridiculous." Stiles tried to protest, but Mr. Stilinski held up his hand to stop him. "Tomorrow I'm calling the doctor to have them check your Adderall dosage..."
"NO! It's not the Adderall! This" he gestured emphatically to the books on the table "is all REAL! I wish to God it wasn't, but it is!" He paused looking back at Melissa. "I swear, I'm not lying. You wanted the truth, well, there it is, right in front of you! Scott was bitten by a werewolf out in the woods three months ago." The second the words were out of his mouth, Stiles immediately regretted saying them. He sighed and sat back down on the couch, with his hands rubbing his knees. "Oh, I really should NOT have said all that! Why did I say that? Why?" He heard his father drop the book on the table and he left the room.
Stiles looked to Melissa, who still had her head in her hands, but she wasn't crying - that was a good sign, right? he thought. He felt bad, like he just told her that her son had two weeks to live. Stiles sat there trying to think of something to say. He normally would have a lot to say. Maybe he should tell her about all the cool things Scott could do now? Still contemplating his next move, Stiles jumped a little when he heard Scott's mother speak up.
"No, no, no, no, this is so NOT happening right now," she was saying, mostly to herself, Stiles thought. Suddenly, an idea came to Stiles. He finally came up with something to say. He hoped it would make her see beyond what her mind said was impossible.
"You know, he could hear you that day a few weeks ago. We were in his room when you drove up." Stiles paused, hoping his last ditch effort would convince her. "You were in your car, leaving a message for that guy that tried to go out with you. Scott heard you crying." He hoped she listened to that last part. She must have because Melissa snapped her head up and stared at him, disbelief plain on her face. Before she had a chance to reply, Stiles looked to his left to see his Dad had come back, holding a file. Mr. Stilinski flipped through its contents and pulled out several photos. He handed them to Stiles.
"Those were taken from the security camera the night of the video store clerk murder." The series of photos showed what appeared to be a large animal crashing through the video store's window front, going past Lydia Martin's car. Except in the last photo, the four legged creature was clearly walking on two legs, like a man.
Stiles looked at the photos. "This is way better proof than the books! I didn't know you had these!" Stiles declared excitedly. He looked at his dad and became subdued at his serious expression.
Melissa reached over and took the photos. A worried look crossed her face. After a moment, she spoke quietly. "This," she started, trying to keep her voice from cracking, "this isn't Scott, is it?" she asked Stiles carefully.
Stiles shook his head assuredly. "Oh no! No way. That," he pointed to the two legged figure in the last photo, "was the alpha."
"Alpha?" Melissa asked. She looked to Mr. Stilinski to see if he knew what it meant. He shrugged.
"Alpha werewolf. Leader of the pack," Stiles explained.
"Pack?" Mr. Stilinski repeated. He looked back to Melissa, trying to make sense of the supernatural revelation in his town.
Melissa brought her attention back to Stiles and continued her questions. "So who's this Alpha? Is it someone else in Beacon Hills?"
Stiles nodded. "Oh yeah. You almost went on a date with him. 'Til I rear ended your car." Stiles looked at her; eyebrows raised waiting for her comprehension. He waited for a moment. "And you're welcome," he finished.
Melissa's jaw dropped. Realization setting in, she stood up slowly and said, "Oh God," in a small, worried voice. She repeated it over and over again to herself, switching from worry to shock to extremely creeped out. She started to pace in front of the TV. "Why me?" she looked at Stiles.
"He was trying to use you to get to Scott. He threatened to turn you to get Scott to join his pack and help him kill 'the responsible ones'," Stiles replied, using air quotes to emphasize the last bit.
Melissa stopped pacing and stared at Stiles. She tried imagining her son being a killer. She shook as a chill ran through her body.
Meanwhile, Mr. Stilinski looked as if he couldn't believe he was having this conversation right now. That and he really wanted another shot of Jack. "What do you mean by 'responsible ones'?" he asked Stiles.
He looked at his dad. "The alpha was Peter Hale, Derek Hale's uncle. He's the one that killed all those people, not Kate Argent. He actually killed her too cause she was responsible for planning the fire that burned down the Hale house." He rolled his eyes, saying "it's a really long, complicated story actually. And technically, I really shouldn't be the one to tell it all." He looked pointedly at Melissa.
Mr. Stilinski was still trying to rearrange the details in his head. "So, what does Scott have to do with all this?"
"He's the one that bit Scott the night before school started - OW! What was that for?" Stiles looked at his dad, rubbing his head where his dad's hand had been.
"Scott was out there that night with you, wasn't he? Goddammit, Stiles!" Mr. Stiliniski brought his hand to the bridge of his nose, sighing in frustration at his son. He was about to continue, when Melissa cut in.
"Why?" Her voice sounded small, a foreign accent for a woman usually so direct in her communication. Melissa had sat back down in the armchair, after asking the last question she needed an answer to. Looking at Stiles, she asked it again. "Why Scott?"
Stiles threw his hands up in confusion. "I don't know. Fate? Wrong place, wrong time? I don't think there was a reason why. It could have easily been me that night."
Melissa was still looking at Scott's phone, scrolling through messages, not caring if she violated her son's privacy. "So where does Derek Hale fit in?" she asked finally.
"Derek Hale is the new alpha. He took it when he killed Peter Hale," Stiles explained. "So, it's like, Scott has to answer to him now."
Without hesitation, Melissa stated, "I want to talk to him. Where do I find this guy?" Stiles started to sweat as he noted she was getting that look in her eye again. The last time he saw it, he had been twelve and had accidentally gotten Scott trapped on the roof of the library with a ferret.
Stiles' eyes grew big with shock. This conversation wasn't going to way he thought it would. "Uh, I don't think that's the best idea."
"Why not? If he's involved with my son's life, he better be prepared to answer to me first."
"Yeah, I don't think he'd appreciate knowing that you and the town Sheriff know all about werewolves now." Stiles still thought Derek was scary. The last thing needed to make tonight a complete crapshoot was Scott's mom charging off and declaring werewolf war. That and the fact that he was pretty sure Scott was going to kill him for this.
Melissa was not deterred at all. "He wanted Scott to meet him tonight. Where would he go?"
"Probably the Hale property," reasoned the sheriff. "It's an isolated, private property. It'd be the first place I'd go."
Stiles looked at his dad, chagrined. "Dad, you're not helping here."
"Great, let's go then." Melissa grabbed her things and stood up. "Stiles, you know how to get there right? There's no way my car will make it through those woods, so you won't mind driving, will you?" She looked at him expectantly and smiled.
Stiles opened his mouth to respond, to try to say something to send her home instead. Too late, he realized, as his dad agreed with her.
"Yeah, we'll take you. Stiles, get your keys." The Sheriff went to a cabinet and took out his gun and holster.
"Dad, don't you - don't you think that's a bit much?" Stiles gestured to the handgun, the holster now secured around Sheriff Stilinski's waist.
"Nope. Get your keys." Super Sheriff mode had been engaged.
'Last chance, Stiles,' he thought to himself. "Are you sure you want to go right now? I mean, don't you have more werewolfy questions that I can answer?" He tried to look engaging and knowledgeable. It didn't work.
"You can talk and drive at the same time. Go. Jeep. Now." Melissa pointed to the door.
'Shit, she's gone to single word sentences. Not good.' In defeat, Stiles grabbed his keys and led them out the door.