"So you think he'll be back before your dad?" Scott asked, stabbing his pancakes with his fork. He dripped syrup on the table as he shoved them in his mouth. Stiles shrugged as he cut his own pancakes.

"I don't know. Shopping for a baby after a house fire seems like it'd take awhile. I wonder how long it'll be before they're back in their house? A month? So after graduation."

"Yeah," Scott said, looking at his pancakes, his chewing less enthusiastic. Stiles noticed, and narrowed his eyes with intrigue.

"What? What's up?"

"About graduation," Scott said, and looked at Stiles sheepishly, "I'm not going to be walking with you. Don't tell my mom yet, I'm not sure how I'm going to break it to her."

"You're not going to what? Wait, what?" Stiles put down his fork in shock. "You're not graduating? What happened?"

"Look, it's not a big deal. I have to redo my senior year," Scott explained as he shook his head, "There's nothing to it, okay? I knew I was doing bad but after midyear finals I realized my grades were probably not going to pass. I've been hiding my report cards. I actually, I gave my mom one from junior year I found under my bed and she thought it was from the previous semester, so..."

"Scott! Scott, why didn't you tell me?" Stiles said angrily, his fists clenched as he gave his friend a hurt look, his eyebrows knit together. "I would've helped you!"

"I know you would've dude, but I just wasn't getting the stuff. I didn't want you bother you. I mean, you were in advanced classes, I didn't want your grades dropping because you spent all your time trying to help me." Scott frowned as he stabbed at his pancakes again. "I applied for a job and got it at this vet clinic, I'll be working in Beacon Hills for another year while I finish high school. That's why I got my licenses, so I could drive myself."

"Scott. We had all these plans for going to college together, we were going to live in the same dorm! We were going to join a fraternity and do crazy stuff together!"

"I know, dude, don't you think I'm pissed at myself enough? Look, you'll do great in university. But I think I'm just going to go to community college."

Stiles shoved his dish forwards on the table and then stood up and walked straight out of the room. He heard Scott clamor to his feet, following after him. "Don't, Scott, I'm pissed right now." He said as his friend put a hand on his shoulder, trying to turn him around. He shoved Scott back, and raised his voice. "The only reason I was looking forward to university was because we were both going! I'm going in as undecided, I don't know what the hell I want to do with my life! It's always been you and me and now you're telling me you're staying here, in Beacon Hills, you got a job, and you're starting this life completely split from mine - fuck you! I can't believe you decided all this without me! Of course I would have probably gotten a B in advanced classes instead of all A's but I would have done it gladly to help you pass your courses! I don't believe you wanted to be a senior senior, you know how embarrassing that is?" He shoved Scott again, fury written all over his face. Scott opened his mouth, looking offended but couldn't get a word in edgewise. "We've been together since preschool, Scott! We're like brothers! We're closer than brothers! Besides my dad, you're the closest thing I have to family," His eyes watered as he clenched his teeth together, pained.

"Stiles," Scott said quietly, pulling the other into a tight hug. "It's going to be okay. I'll spend my weekends with you, okay? I could've biked to work. I learned to drive so I could visit you, man." Stiles limply moved his arms to hug Scott, leaning on him. "I'm sorry. I'm just not as smart as you are."

"No. No, I don't believe that," Stiles said grumpily into Scott's shoulder, still embracing the other. "We'll get your grades up."

Scott smiled, leaning back to look at Stiles. "Look, you've got so much going on right now. After I do a few years in community college I can transfer, I can go to university with you for your senior year."

"We'll get your grades up Scott," Stiles insisted, then moved away from Scott. "What classes are you failing?"

"Spanish, calculus, geometry..." Scott started listing uneasily, looking away. "...American history..."

"How can you fail American history?" Stiles looked baffled, but waved for Scott to stop. "Those are the only ones, then?"

"Yeah."

"I can help you with calculus, geometry and history, but I don't know any Spanish. I think I can probably get a rosetta stone program and start learning it though...you're in second year Spanish?" Scott nodded slowly. "I can learn it fast. It'll take awhile, but I can do it."

"Stiles, come on. You can't learn an entire language yourself, we've got like a month and a half left."

"But we still have spring break next week," Stiles cautioned, walking away as he put his hand thoughtfully on his chin. "I can do it in a week. It's like that time I had to learn Japanese to play that game that never came out in the U.S. It's doable." He looked at Scott. "Do you trust me?"

"Yeah," Scott said assuredly. "Of course I do."

"Then we're going to find a way for you to pass."

Stiles and Scott turned when they heard the lock click in the front door, and Mr. Stilinski burst through the door.

"Stiles!" He said loudly, abandoning his bag by the front door. He hurried over to Stiles and threw his arms around him, giving him the tightest bear hug he could. "I'm sorry I didn't come by quicker. I fell asleep trying- I want to know exactly what happened, tell me everything. Are you okay? I made you a doctors appointment for an hour from now." He looked at his watch, and then looked displeased. "Well, forty five minutes. Okay, let's go now, you can tell me in the car. Scott, can you stay here? I need to talk to my son alone."

"Sure," Scott said, and Stiles wheedled his way out of his dad's arms. He motioned for his dad to wait as he walked upstairs. He grabbed a book from his bedroom and then came back down, and shoved it in Scott's arms.

"Study chapters twelve through eighteen. And when you finish reading them read them again." Stiles said, and then turned to his dad, and motioned for him to follow him out front. They hopped in the police car his father had parked in the driveway.

"Stiles, I'm sorry I didn't come by sooner. There's a lot of major crimes going on right now," His father said as he turned on the car, backing out. Stiles shook his head and smiled faintly at his father.

"It's okay dad, you have stuff to do. I'm fine. I really am fine. Mrs. McCall checked me out this morning and everything." Stiles said as he looked out the window.

"She said she couldn't tell if you had damage to your lungs from smoke inhalation, so we have to get it checked out. I...I wanted to talk to you about something." Stiles looked over at his father, and Sheriff Stilinski glanced at him before he looked back at the road. "I'm out a lot. And I know right now you're in way over your head in something I don't even understand. But Stiles, I care. You're my boy, my son. And I promise I will make sure you're safe. Even when it seems like I'm not around, trust me, I am trying."

"...dad, what do you know about the Hales?" Stiles asked curiously, his eyes resting on his father's face as the other looked on.

"The Hales." Sheriff sighed roughly. "When I got into the position of Sheriff, I wasn't really briefed over anything. I was young. You'd think in a small town like this you wouldn't have a huge amount of crime, but it's not a safe area, Stiles. I try to make it a safe place, but this town has more unsolved cases than a large city. We had to purchase a building next door to the station to store the files that are still a mystery." Sheriff tapped his fingers on the wheel, and Stiles glanced at his hands. It was the same thing he did when he was thinking of how to word something and multitask driving at the same time. "Within a week there were three cases where people were found chopped in half. That was the beginning of my career. I've seen beheaded bodies abandoned in the forest around town. The strange thing, Stiles, is whenever we get close to nailing someone for the crimes the evidence disappears. It's like a black hole exists in the station and no matter how many people are on duty, we lose these important pieces of evidence that could convict the people like the Hales. I've been threatened before Stiles - people have threatened my family for throwing out evidence on the Hales. I didn't want to lose the evidence. Fortunately I've kept us safe this long."

"Did Derek Hale babysit me once?" Stiles asked, giving his dad a quizzical look. Sheriff grimaced and nodded.

"Back when your mother was sick and I was working, I was putting in a lot of late hours and we needed a babysitter. Talia Hale is actually a very pleasant woman when you first meet her. She's very personable and easy going. She said she wanted to teach her son to be responsible and hardworking, so I said he could try babysitting you. You were like five or six." He itched his face with his free hand, one hand still on the wheel. "But then I started digging deeper in the case files and found things about the Hales I didn't like, and I let Derek go. He actually was a nice kid when he was younger. Said you were fun but he understood. You actually thought he was your brother for a little bit."

Stiles was quiet as he looked out the window, thinking back. He couldn't recall any of this, so he didn't have the words to describe how it made him feel.

"Stiles, there's unexplained things in Beacon Hills. I actually...I thought about moving several times, but you had your life here, so we stayed. You seemed happy. And I didn't want to rob you of that. Because..."

"Dad," Stiles warned, knowing where this was going. Sheriff stopped, and then sighed.

"I'm sorry, Stiles," Mr. Stilinski said as he turned down one of the country roads. There was a burning stack of chairs in the middle of the road. They both looked towards it, both as confused as the other. "What the hell..." He slowed down, rolling past the burning chair. Stiles gripped the car handle as he looked around the edge of the road. Sheriff hit the brakes, reaching down for his gun. He grabbed the radio and then said, "Stilinski on call. We have a 10-53 situation on the turn onto Cranberry road from Dusk road. No traffic. I'm going to investigate, 10-12, standby for further report. I repeat, 10-53 on Cranberry road." He put the radio back on the lock and looked at his son. "Stiles, stay in the car."

"Dad, don't get out," Stiles said worriedly, watching as his father unbuckled and opened his door slowly. He gave a pleading glance to his father as he watched the other walk around the car, looking around. Stiles immediately opened the door and stepped out into the road.

"Stiles, get back in the car!"

"Dad, you get back in the car too. Let's just drive." Stiles said arguably, hearing a shuffling behind him. He barely turned around in time to see Sean Walcott and his father. He opened his mouth, but Mr. Walcott grabbed him and stabbed his arm with what felt like a needle, pressing painfully hard into his skin. Stiles went cross eyed as he fainted.