Emily was, as Stiles had supposed, a virgin before her mysterious disappearance. Despite Caitlin's use of an illicit drug, he had no doubt everything happened exactly as she said, up to and including her sighting of the wolves in the forest. Mrs. McCall and he exchanged glances when she described Scott, both thankful the Sheriff hadn't been as thorough with the witness or as believing. It worried Stiles how close his father was to the supernatural again, as always so close to the truth and danger.

"You need to go home now Stiles, get some rest."

They'd stepped outside Caitlin's room, and he slumped against the wall as his brain whirled frantically with all the added data.

"I can't...I can't sleep...not if what I"m thinking is true."

Threes. Everything came in threes. Three was a magical number present in the three major world religions - in Christianity it represented the three faces of God, in Judaism the Three Patriarchs of their religion, and in Islamic culture the three holy cities of worship. If monotheistic religions embraced the power of three, why not older, darker times? Think, think, think.

"And what is going on? How do you know what it is?"

Her words were harsh, but the tone gentle. Stiles knew it was her motherly instinct kicking in. She'd had a hand in raising him too, after all, and was as worried by his demeanor as she was with Scott gallivanting around in the woods. This year was as hard on her as it was on them.

"I've been learning from Dr. Deaton. Learning the history of the wolves."

Again, not a lie, but not the complete truth either. This was something else, a tune whose lyrics were on the tip of his tongue; it was maddening how familiar this was feeling, though he could swear he'd never seen anything like it before. Remember!

"Why?"

His eyes flashed up to hers, an anguished amber against pale clotted cream skin.

"Because I can't help Scott! I'm useless! I'm not as fast, or strong, or-or indestructible as him!"

Mrs. McCall reached out then, gently encircling his wrist with an implacable hold. She was small and fragile and female, but Stiles had never underestimated her strength or iron will, having seen it time and again when necessary to step between danger (both physical and emotional) and her son. Sons, a soft voice reminded him.

"Stiles, your existence is what helps Scott. Do you know why I was able to finally accept my son's condition?"

They always used code words to speak of werewolf business in public, but Stiles still hated the secrecy sometimes. She made it sound like Scott had an incurable disease instead of a magical gift. No matter how much their lives changed with the bite, a part of Stiles couldn't help the wonder and awe at the knowledge werewolves existed. They existed!

"Because you're an amazing woman?"

Mrs. McCall chuckled lightly at that, her hand shifting so her fingers threaded through Stiles'. It reminded him of when they were smaller and she would hold Scott's hand to cross the street; this persisted until he was nearly twelve. Stiles still didn't know why Scott stopped doing it, but he often wondered if it had something to do with his dad's desertion.

"I knew my baby boy couldn't be a monster, wouldn't be a monster, as long as he had you in his corner. You've stood beside him, behind him, and in front of him his entire life and haven't wavered. If you have that courage, then so must I."

Stiles ducked his head as tears pressed against his eyelids again. Crying was unmanly, or so society taught him, but ultimately it wasn't embarrassment that he hid this time, but gratefulness. Grateful that someone else could see him as well as Scott. Lately he really felt as if he were invisible, and he had the fanciful idea that he was Scott's imaginary best friend instead of a real boy.

"So are you going home or am I gonna have to call your dad?"

"Ahem, ah, yeah, I guess I will. But if you see or hear from Scott before I do...uh...tell him to call, or better yet stop by."

"You'll see him later today at school."

"It's important."

"Will you ever tell me what it is?"

Stiles had sufficient time to recover from his emotional moment and gently withdrew his fingers from hers. "I will, but...I need to think about it more. Make sure I'm right before I say anything."

Mrs. McCall was great and all, but ultimately she wasn't in it with them regardless of how understanding and accepting she was now. She wasn't there when it was Scott and him against the Alpha, then Derek and his merry band of feral idiots.

A fond smile graced her pretty face. "Night, Stiles."

"Night, Mrs. McCall."

He walked down the hallway and towards the bend in the corridor, conscious of her eyes on his back. Despite her professed affection, spoken in so many words, she knew him well enough to not exactly trust his word. Stiles wasn't offended and was kind of amused by it. Besides, he needed some time with his computer and the spread sheet he needed to start so he could fill in the information he'd gleaned here this (early early) morning.

It was the last coherent thought he had as the world melted around him in a sea of reds and violets, punctuated by gut-rending terror and pain.

A/N: This episode never actually shows how Stiles and Scott meet up at the hospital morgue, especially since Scott presumably didn't come over until well after he found Derek still alive and dropped off the unconscious betas. So it's morning by then - I only watched the ep once, so I could be mistaken, but I'm pretty sure it's still supposed to be a school day for them. It's a little weird for Stiles to be hanging out at the hospital all this time waiting on Scott, so this is my reasoning why (to clear up confusion - he's still experiencing everything happening to Derek, so he's feeling everything happening to Derek when Cora and Boyd go to town on him). There will be one more chapter for "Fireflies," before I move onto "Unleashed." Since ep 5&6 ("Frayed" and "Motel California") aren't standalone I'm going to write it as one section instead of splitting them up.