"Stiles. Stiles, wake up."
He could feel the hair on his arms rise before his eyelids even snapped open, and he was startled into awareness. He knew he heard his father, but he flung himself against the headboard as he sat up suddenly, wary of his surroundings. After what he witnessed, his brain subconsciously woke up in fight or flight mode. Sheriff looked at him dubiously, his voice calming.
"It's okay, you're okay." His father reached out and grabbed Stiles' hand, and Stiles looked at him in a bit of a daze. "They brought you back here. That's it, Stiles. They told me it was finished. You can talk to them, but I don't want you involved in anything like this again."
"Dad," Stiles said, not really objecting, but as a way to acknowledge his comment. Sheriff leaned over as he sat on the edge of the bed, putting both hands on Stiles' hands, gripping them tightly as he looked at him with a seemingly unbreakable connection between their eyes.
"I lost your mother to something I didn't understand. I'm not losing you to something I don't understand, and probably never will. Maybe you understand the situation, but from my point of view, and from what they've told me, which as a father I am strongly disappointed that I don't know more..." His brow furrowed as he continued, "But I'm telling you the same thing I told everyone involved. You aren't getting involved with this again."
The tone his father used was unlike any he had heard before. It sounded familiar, but he couldn't recall where he heard his father speak so forcibly. It was almost as if because he said it, it was going to be true. Before this moment, he would have found it hard to believe that his father told an entire pack of werewolves an order and they listened - but now that he commanded such authority, he knew he was serious. He looked at their hands, and then frowned. "Well, yeah, when you put it that way. I mean, it's over, I'm not going to go looking for trouble."
"I find that hard to believe," Sheriff Stilinski said, a small playful grin tugging at the edge of his lips. "I'm going to be watching you like a hawk."
"I know, dad."
"I'm serious. You thought I was in your business before? You're officially number one fugitive in Beacon Hills now as far as I'm concerned. That means I'm going to be watching you twenty four seven, whether you like it or not." He stood up, putting his hands on his hips. "And when you get in trouble again, that's it. You're grounded for life. As it is, you're grounded for three weeks."
"Really?" Stiles frowned, leaning against the headboard. "You're grounding me? After I almost died! Dad, come on. Have a heart."
"I have a heart, that's why you're grounded."
"But dad," He couldn't keep the whine out of his voice as he complained, "I have like- what, four weeks before graduation? Dad, come on. Does it ban Scott? Can I see Scott? Dad- it's spring break next week, I gotta see Scott. I promised him I would help him with improving his grades!"
"Of course you can see Scott. He's family." Sheriff shrugged as he headed towards the door, opening it and looking over his shoulder. "But no Hales. I don't want to see one Hale on this property for two weeks, you hear me?"
"Aren't they living with us?" Stiles said with a confused squint. "I mean, how is that going to work? Are they pitching a tent on the street?"
"No, of course not. Their house finished construction yesterday. Said they had a lot of community help, it went quick." He patted the door frame as he stepped out. "Well, get some sleep. And remember, if you try anything, I'm going to know. I know a lot more than you think I do." Sheriff closed the door behind him, and Stiles slumped in his bed, sinking below the bed covers.
"This sucks," Stiles muttered under his breath. Last few weeks in Beacon Hills, and he was stuck inside. He reached over and grabbed his phone. Sixty eight missed texts from Scott. "Wow, Scott. Emergency baby sit and you have a melt down." He scrolls through the texts, trying not to laugh out loud at the comments. He couldn't help talking to himself as he mused over them. "Oh my god. You told your mom the baby got hairy sometimes, and your mom said she had a 'herniaism'. It's hirsutism, not herniaism. God Scott. What a fucking cover up. I mean, come on. Did your mom even fall for that," He said as he started typing back and muttered under his breath. "Fucking priceless."