Alright, so I know I should probably be posting the next chapter to It's Like A Panic Attack, but I got stuck on it, so to make up for it, this is something I had sitting around since the finale. I edited it and read through it, so hopefully there are no mistakes. So please read and review and enjoy!

We were opposites at birth

I was steady as a hammer

No one worried 'cause they knew just where I'd be

And they said you were the crooked kind

And that you'd never have no worth

But you were always gold to me

Always Gold by Radical Face

Scott wanted Stiles to go talk to his dad? Then that's what he would do. He would go do that, because Scott was his best friend, and after the lies—after killing Donovan—this was the best he could do to make up for his mistakes. And for now, for now he wouldn't think about the way all of his worst nightmares were coming true.

It was still raining when he got to the sheriff's station. Stiles sat in the jeep for a moment, parked outside in front of the station where he knew his father was probably still working. He made no movement to get out, despite promising himself that he would go talk to his dad. For Scott. A part of him just didn't want to.

He wanted to stay in the car. Wail and scream and punch his frustration out. He wanted to feel like he wasn't balancing on the tip of a knife, dangerously close to falling off into an obscurity he had only experienced during his time being possessed by the Nogistune.

He wanted to feel happy.

A sharp rapping against the driver's side window startled Stiles out of his spiraling thoughts, causing the teenager to look up, wide-eyed at the male deputy standing in the rain next to his car looking very unimpressed. It was one of the newer deputies, one he couldn't name on sight.

It seemed like he couldn't name a lot of the deputies on first sight anymore. Not since Matt had completely devastated the station's forces by using the kanima to slaughter all of them. It was kind of a depressing thought.

Stiles slowly climbed out of the jeep, aware of the sight he was making. Damp, dark circles under his eyes, despairing look on his face. Yeah, he probably made a sight for sore eyes.

"Stiles?" the deputy asked, his voice deep and concerned, mirroring his deep and concerned blue eyes well. "Are you alright?"

Stiles nodded weakly, shaking a few drops of rain from his hair. The worst of the downpour had stopped, but it was still showering a bit. Enough for the little clothing that had dried on ride over to once again dampen and leave him shivering.

"I'm fine," Stiles said hoarsely. "Just a bit cold, you know. Torrential downpours aren't exactly the best way to stay warm."

The deputy gave Stiles a slight smile. "What are you doing here, Stiles?"

Stiles shivered slightly, wrapping his arms around himself as he struggled to keep himself somewhat warm as well as keep himself from falling apart. Licking his lips nervously, Stiles looked towards the sheriff's station. "My dad. Is my dad here? I want to…I have to talk to him."

The deputy didn't look at all surprised by Stiles' question. But then again, why else would he be here? This was the sheriff's station and his father was the sheriff.

"He's inside," the deputy said, gesturing Stiles to follow him. Paxton. That's who this was. Deputy Paxton. "Can I ask what this is about? You don't seem like you're just delivering dinner tonight."

Stiles rubbed his injured shoulder somewhat nervously as the two stepped into the front room where Karen sat at the front desk. Karen gave him a small, weary smile before she turned back to her computer and started typing. Stiles didn't blame Caren for the lack of pleasantries in the least. There were too many murders for things like that to be worth any time right now.

Stiles' stomach lurched at that thought. Murders. Stiles had murdered Donovan and Scott didn't believe it had been in self-defense and now Stiles had to talk to his dad—

"Stiles?"

Stiles' head snapped up to stare at the Deputy Paxton, who was a good eight or so feet in front of him, stopped and turned towards him. That's when Stiles realized that he had just stopped in the middle of the room, too engulfed in his warring thoughts.

"Stiles, are you sure you're okay?"

Nodding, the teenager forced himself to start walking forward again, towards his dad's office. His stomach was still lurching, but he had promised himself he would do this. This was going to be how he started to make up for killing Donovan. This is where it started.

"I'm fine," Stiles remembered to verbally reassure the deputy, just to make his case stronger. The two began walking again, past all of the deputies' desks and towards his father's office. "I just got lost in thought for a second. I'm going to go check on my-"

"Stiles?"

The teenager froze, shoulders tensing and whiskey colored eyes darting to the form of Lydia Martin.

"Lydia?" Stiles asked, wondering for a second if this was a nightmare. First Scott found out and didn't believe in him, his friendship with Scott was ruined, he had to have this impending talk with his father about how he had murdered a chimera, and now Lydia Martin was walking towards him with that "you are in so much trouble and I'm really concerned but more angry than worried" look in her eyes.

The strawberry blonde stopped just before him, eyes scrutinizing his damp clothes and his overall appearance.

"What happened?" she asked. "What's going on that I don't know about?"

Stiles, very aware of the very human deputy standing next to him, fidgeted slightly. "The doctors got to Hayden," he said in a hoarse whisper, eyes cast downward. "It's- Theo and Liam took her to Deaton's but I don't-"

Stiles faltered, the conversation with Scott coming back to him and relaying in his head for the tenth billion time. Would this nightmare ever end?

"Stiles," Lydia called, snapping her fingers in front of his face. "Stiles, what is it? Where are Scott and Malia?"

He didn't know. Stiles wasn't supposed to be doing this. He wasn't supposed to be looking for Malia and he wasn't supposed to be talking to Lydia. He was supposed to be talking to his dad and being ignored by Scott and trying to make up for killing the man who was going to kill his father.

All of the sudden, Stiles felt so world weary. Ever since the Nogistune, it was one thing after another. It was like they could never do enough. They were always struggling to try and keep everything together. To make sure nobody died. They were always trying to save everybody else.

And now, maybe it wasn't everybody else who needed saving. Maybe it was them. Maybe it was the pack that needed saving. They were always trying to save others, but how could they do that when they couldn't even save themselves. Was everything just hopeless?

"Stiles!" Lydia yelled, fear reflected in her green eyes.

"Stiles?" Paxton asked, his deep eyes concerned again. "Are you okay? That's the third or fourth time you've spaced out since you got here."

Stiles shook his head, as if he could just shake off the thoughts plaguing his mind and dragging him down into the deepest pits of despair. "I'm fine. Can you just go find my dad, please?"

Paxton left to go find the sheriff, but not without a glance backwards. When Paxton was no longer in sight, Lydia turned her gaze on Stiles.

"You should call Scott," Stiles said quietly in response to her pleading eyes. "Scott…he, Liam, Theo and Hayden are at the animal clinic. You should call Scott and get over there."

Lydia held his gaze a moment longer, searching for something in Stiles' own eyes. "And if it's so important, then why aren't you there?"

"I have to talk to my dad."

"About what?" she asked, looking almost desperate. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Stiles rubbed his shoulder again. He felt trapped. He had to tell his dad, he promised himself to tell his dad, but he didn't have to tell Lydia. But what if this was part of it, too? What if this was how he finally rid himself of the nightmare. By getting through it and spilling his lies and mistakes to everyone?

"Scott's mad at me," Stiles whispered, his voice breaking. "He's mad at me, and I just made it worse by saying all that crap about stuff he can't control. It's not his fault he's a true alpha. It's not his fault he's not human. It's not- It's not his f-fault that he wants to save every- everyone."

Stiles was practically sobbing now, and Lydia was looking at him with concern and confusion.

"What are you talking about, Stiles?" she asked gently, as if trying to comfort a child. "Why would Scott be mad at you?"

Rubbing his face agitatedly, Stiles took a shaky breath, trying to calm himself down. He couldn't break down right now. He still had to get through this nightmare.

"The chimeras," Stiles said, hands gesturing wildly as he tried to explain what was going through his head. "It's- I don't- It's-"

"Stiles!"

Stiles had never been so relieved and terrified to hear his name.

"Dad," Stiles breathed, turning to look at his father stalking towards him. He was aware he looked like hell, and if his dad's concerned once over was enough, Sheriff Stilinski saw it, too. Paxton was behind him, but instead of stopping when his dad did, the deputy walked past them and towards the front desk.

His dad looked between the two teenagers, the serious looks on their faces drawing his expression into a worn out, but hardened one as he readied himself.

"Do we need to take this into my office?" the sheriff asked.

"Yes," Lydia said, her eyes never leaving Stiles' face. "Yes, I think we do."

But Stiles, while it would make it easier on him in the future, didn't want to have this conversation with the two of them together. If that happened, he was going to be pulled into two different directions. When Lydia was around, he had to be strong for her. He couldn't break down. But when he was with his father, that's exactly the thing he wanted to do.

He wanted his dad to wrap his arms around him and tell him that everything was going to be okay. That they were going to make it out of this only a little worse for the wear. That his dad would be here to protect him, just like always.

He couldn't have that—even if that wasn't going to happen with the way he predicted this conversation going—with Lydia around.

So he settled a glare towards the strawberry blonde, silently hoping that she would understand his conflict.

"Go to the animal clinic," Stiles said. "Please, Lydia, just go find Scott."

Lydia shook her head. "No. No way am I just leaving-"

"Lydia! Please! I just- I can't do this right now! I already have Scott giving me hell, I don't need that from you, too," Stiles pleaded, his voice cracking. Both his dad and Lydia's expressions softened at his distraught plea.

"Stiles," Lydia urged in a gentle tone. "I'm not going to leave you here like this."

"Lyd-"

She held up her hand, stopping Stiles from continuing. "No, Stiles. That's not what I meant. Just…I'll wait out here, okay? You talk to your dad and then you can tell me after. Does that sound okay?"

Oh, god, it sounded like Lydia was trying to bargain with a child. And as much as Stiles knew how closely he was resembling one at this moment, Stiles didn't appreciate his brain coming up with the analogy.

In the end, Stiles just nodded and turned to his dad. "Can we…can I talk to you?"

"Always, kiddo," his dad said, bringing a comforting hand to rest on his uninjured shoulder.

His dad led him into his office and shut the door. Outside the window, Stiles watched as Lydia settled herself on the bench, giving him a small, but sad smile as she nodded to him. Turning back to his father, who was now leaning on his desk with his arms folded over his chest, Stiles ran a hand down his face.

Why had he promised to do this again?

"What's going on, Stiles?" the sheriff asked. "Are you okay? Did something happen that I need to know about?"

"Um, I guess not really," Stiles said.

The sheriff raised his eyebrow. "To which question?"

Stiles shrugged. "Both."

Now that he was here, now that he was faced with his father's worried eyes—always worrying, his dad. Stiles was going to have to make sure his dad was still eating healthy. When was the last time he had done that—he wanted to chicken out of this. To screw it all and just start crying and not explain himself and—

"Stiles?" his dad asked, his tone soothing and gentle, just like the one he used when Stiles was about to have a panic attack. "Stiles, listen to me, you need to breathe."

And it was only then did Stiles realize that he wasn't balancing on the tip of the knife. He had already fallen off the edge. All he was doing now was trying to save himself from falling further down into hell. And it wasn't working. Nothing was working.

Stiles was taking shallow breaths, and some part of his brain that wasn't overwhelmed by all of this recognized that his dad was probably going to think this was a panic attack. But his chest wasn't tight. He wasn't panicking. No, he was just trying to stop himself from breaking out into sobs, hoping that if he didn't breathe too deeply, the breath wouldn't get stuck in his throat and he wouldn't have to explain to his father why he was crying.

A rough, calloused hand cupped the back of his head, the other stretching around his back and pulling him into a hug. Stiles found himself melting into his father's hug, a sob escaping his chest before he could stop it.

"I killed him," Stiles whispered into his father's shoulder as he closed his eyes. "I- I killed him, dad. I killed him."

The sheriff shushed him gently. "That's enough of that, Stiles. What are you talking about?"

"Donovan," Stiles explained shakily. His father's hands faltered in the rubbing motions Stiles hadn't realized his father was doing on his back before picking up again. Stiles went on. "I killed him. He was going to kill you. He was going to kill me and then he was going to go after you, too. I thought I could- I thought I could run away. After he- After he caught up- up to me in the library, the scaffolding, it came down, and then- oh god. I killed him, dad."

"Whatever happened, it wasn't your fault," his dad said, and Stiles stilled. He knew he should have expected that response from his dad, but after Scott, he had been seriously expecting the worst. This was supposed to be a nightmare after all. "From what you're saying, it sounds like he was coming after you. It's called self-defense for a reason, Stiles. If he was going to kill you, and you stopped him, then you did what you had to to survive."

"You're not mad at me?" Stiles asked weakly. "I killed Donovan. You said he was just a kid and-"

"I know what I said," his dad said, sighing. "But you didn't mean to kill him, right? You didn't do it with malicious intent, did you?"

Stiles shook his head into his father's shoulder, breath coming in short puffs of air. "He- He said he was going to – to eat my legs," Stiles said quietly. "And I saw the pin, and I- I thought it would stun him long enough for me- for me to run or something. Or for someone to save me. B-But it- the pipe- he just- he died."

The sheriff sighed and pulled away from Stiles, wiping away the stray tears from Stiles' cheeks. Hs dad had that worried look in his eye again. "You're okay, Stiles. You did what you had to."

Stiles nodded numbly, refusing to meet his father's eyes. As much as he was happy that his father didn't blame him for what he did to Donovan, it still didn't change anything. It didn't change the guilt that was threatening to engulf him. It didn't fix things with Scott. It didn't change the fact that he had lost his best friend.

It didn't change the fact that Stiles had killed Donovan.

"Dad," Stiles said suddenly, gripping his father's forearms desperately. "Dad, I don't know what to do. I need help. Please."

His dad looked him over and gave him a warm smile. "Stiles, you know I'm here for you, kid."

"Scott- I said some things to him. Some things that I didn't mean. And I don't know how to fix it. I lost Scott when I killed- when I killed Donovan. And I yelled at him for some- some things he can't control, that he- he didn't choose. And- oh god, I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do, dad."

"How about you start by apologizing?" the sheriff suggested. "This is Scott, we're talking about. You two have been best friends since you were little."

"Brothers," Stiles added forlornly. "But he won't even believe me. He said he wanted to, but he won't. I thought- thought that Scott was supposed to have my back. I thought he would- GAH!"

Stiles let go of his dad and swung his fist at the wall in his pent up frustration and anger. The pulsing pain, even though he knew it didn't solve any of his problems, grounded him. The sheriff, unable to stop Stiles from hurting himself, grabbed the injured hand and gently led Stiles out of the office. To where Lydia sat, frowning at the two.

The sheriff glared at him when he tried to pull away. "What the hell, Stiles." It wasn't even a question. More like a resigned grumble.

"Dad, I'm fine," Stiles protested, although his voice was a little tight. "I don't even think it's broken."

"That's not the point and you know it, Stiles," his dad reprimanded him.

"What happened?" Lydia asked, still frowning as Stiles sat down next to her. The sheriff knelt in front of Stiles and started to inspect his injured hand. It was shaking, but it just looked bruised. Nothing too serious. "One minute you guys are having a hug fest and then the next thing I know Stiles is driving his fist through a wall."

"I didn't drive it through the wall, Lydia," Stiles defended himself. "Do I look like I have any kind of werewolf strength?"

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Whatever. You know what I mean."

The sheriff sighed. "Next time you want to get some frustration out, I recommend hitting a pillow, not a wall."

"You didn't have any pillows on hand," Stiles shot back.

Rubbing at his eyes, his dad just smiled tightly. "That's because you tend to start sleeping here when I do."

Stiles and his dad shared a smile for a moment before Stiles dropped his gaze to the floor, his smile falling away and his guilt and frustration for the whole situation with Scott rearing its ugly head again.

"What am I supposed to do, dad?" Stiles asked, unaware of how much that sounded like what he had asked Scott until the words were out of his mouth. "How do I fix this?"

"First you need to figure out what needs fixing," his dad said, tilting Stiles' chin up so that they were looking at each other again. "Are you trying to fix it, or restore it? Things aren't always going to go back to the way they were before. That's not how fixing works."

"I know," Stiles said. "I know that. But you didn't see the way Scott looked at me. Like- He looked at me like I was a stranger. Like everything we had built between us was nonexistent. And for one, I can't say I blame him. Not after what I did."

Lydia was looking between father and son curiously, but wisely kept her mouth shut. For that, Stiles was grateful. The faster he got his shit together and figured out what to do—the faster he had a purpose—the faster he could answer her questions.

The sheriff sighed. "I don't know exactly what went on between you two, but did it have anything to do with Theo?"

Stiles looked up, startled. "What?" he asked, breathlessly. "Why- Why would you think that?"

"Because this afternoon, when I questioned Theo about why both of your cards were used at the library that night, Theo told me the exact same story, only it was Theo who was being chased by Donovan. He made it seem like Donovan had your card, and when you said you lost it-"

"There was no reason not to believe Theo," Lydia finished, causing both Stilinski's to look at her. "What? I can catch on fast. Stiles, you killed Donovan in self-defense. And that's how you hurt your shoulder."

"You what?!" the sheriff exclaimed, looking his son over carefully. "Show me."

Stiles immediately protested. "It's not that bad, Dad. Really."

"Stiles."

Yeah, there was no way in hell he was getting away with this one. Sighing and shooting a scathing look at Lydia—which she smirked at—Stiles pulled down his collar, revealing his right shoulder and the Wendigo bite that was barely half-healed.

Lydia's smirk dropped immediately and his dad took a sharp intake of breath, which Stiles found as his cue to cover the bite back up. This was not the conversation he wanted to have right now.

"Can we got back to Scott now?" Stiles asked quietly. He thought a moment before adding, "And Theo."

Lydia smoothed out her dress and sat up a little straighter. "So what exactly is going on?" she asked. "I'd like to hear the whole story."

And so, Stiles told both Lydia and his dad the whole story, much calmer this time around. He started from getting attacked by the jeep to pulling the pin from the scaffolding and accidentally killing Donovan to the 911 call and the body disappearing. He told them how Theo had said he'd seen the end of it. And he told them about his conversation with Scott. That part…that part he'd started to choke up.

"I don't know what to do," Stiles finished, aggravatedly running his hands through his slightly damp hair. "Scott doesn't believe me and he doesn't trust me anymore. He told me not to worry about you or Malia, who I haven't seen in hours. He just said to go talk to my dad. And then he left me. I drove straight here, after that. I just- I don't know what I'm supposed to do to fix this."

Lydia hummed thoughtfully. The strawberry blonde was taking this whole situation a lot calmer than Stiles would have guessed, especially with the whole Parrish thing on her plate, too.

"How did Scott find out?" Lydia finally asked.

"What?" Stiles asked. "What do you mean? He had the wrench-"

"Which could have meant anything," Lydia interjected. "Somebody must have at least told him something. He wouldn't automatically be so set on the fact that you killed Donovan"—Stiles flinched slightly—"would he? Sorry," she tacked on.

"You mean someone like Theo?" Stiles asked, ignoring her apology and barely daring himself to hope.

"All that time spent on trying to prove he's suspicious and now that the proof is coming to bite at your heels you're reluctant to believe it?" the sheriff asked. "Remember what I said, Stiles. If he's guilty, he's going to make a mistake. Donovan had Theo's library card."

Stiles shook his head. Even if Donovan had Theo's library card, it didn't prove anything. "Scott knows that's my wrench. He could probably smell Donovan's blood on it."

"But why would he jump to the conclusion that you killed Donovan?" Lydia asked. "It doesn't make sense for Scott McCall, the person who looks for the good in everybody, to jump to the worst conclusion. To not give you the benefit of the doubt."

"Maybe I don't deserve the benefit of the doubt," Stiles retorted. "Maybe everything I've done is finally catching up to Scott and he's finally realizing that he can't trust his crappy best friend."

"You don't mean that," Lydia said quietly. "It wasn't your fault."

Stiles wondered if she was talking about Donovan or just the whole situation in general. Rubbing his hands together, Stiles kept his eyes forward, trained on his dad. "I still feel guilty about it."

His dad patted his knee. "And that's okay. But you need to learn to move on."

"What we need to do is figure out what Theo told Scott," Lydia said. "Stiles, I know that you may not believe this, but Scott does believe in you. If he's being manipulated by Theo, then it's our job to tell him the truth. If he knows the real story, I'm pretty sure that he'll believe you and he'll know it's not your fault."

Stiles was quiet for a moment, taking in everything Lydia and his father were telling him. They were suggesting Theo, the guy Stiles had been suspicious of from day one, was the one who was manipulating them and had an endgame of his own. They were telling Stiles that Scott hadn't truly meant what he had said because he didn't know the whole story. From Stiles' perspective.

And as much as Stiles wished that were true, it almost seemed like it was too much to hope for. Like a silly dream that he couldn't hope to ever have come true. How could he deserve something like that?

"Did you have to kill him?"

"Scott, he was going to kill my dad!"

"But the way that it happened…. There's a point where's it's just- it's not self-defense anymore."

"What are you even talking about?! I didn't have a choice, Scott!"

He could see it. He could start to see where the communication had failed. If what Lydia and his dad were saying was right, if what they were saying was true, then Stiles could see where everything had started to break down. Scott had thought Stiles had killed Donovan on purpose or whatever lie Theo had fed Scott, and that's what he had been talking about.

"There's a point where's it's just- it's not self-defense anymore."

They had each thought they were talking about the same situation. The same thing. And the lack of communication had ripped them apart. Stiles had failed to come clean to Scott about killing Donovan, and Theo had taken the opportunity to abuse that fact, ripping Scott away from Stiles.

Stiles looked to Lydia and his father. "Are you sure about this?"

"Stiles," Lydia said, sounding exasperated. "Come on. Why aren't you all over this? You've been trying to tell us for weeks that something isn't right with Theo."

The sheriff shook his head and took Stiles' hands in his own. "Look, kid, I know you're scared that if you try to accuse Theo and you're wrong, Scott won't ever believe you again, but you've got me and Lydia Martin backing you up. You aren't alone in this."

"I don't want to lose Scott," Stiles whispered. "He's basically my brother and I don't want to lose him. I've just lost too many people in my life and I'm not strong enough to lose him, too."

His dad nodded. "I know, kiddo, but if you want to clear this up, we need to go talk to Scott and tell him the truth, alright?"

Lydia nodded, her face softer than it was before. "Your dad's right, Stiles. We need to stop Theo before things get any worse."

Stiles took a deep, calming breath, the tension draining from his shoulders. Looking to Lydia and the older Stilinski for support, Stiles steeled himself for what was to come. Scott needed to hear the truth about what happened, and if Scott still blamed him afterwards, he knew he still had at least two people behind him, ready to catch him if he fell.

Stiles stood up. "Right, let's go to the animal clinic and find Scott."

He and Scott were supposed to be brothers, and that was worth more than gold to Stiles. If this would help him and Scott heal, then he would come clean and lay himself bare. Scott was his brother, so all Stiles had to do was believe, and maybe this would turn out okay after all.