Hey guys! Sorry I'm such a dick with the last chapter… lol. It just gives me such a delight to be a prick. I was pleased with the reaction, but I do want to clarify something, just so there's no confusion:

NATHAN IS, IN FACT, DEAD.

The only reason I call it out like that is because I feel like Jeff Davis & Co. took some liberties to bring Kate Argent back, but I don't intend on extending the same to Nathan. Although, I am extending some liberties myself with the next plot points, but I suppose I can do that because it's my fic! *evil laughter in the distance*

Let's get started, shall we?

Chapter 9

Something Wicked This Way Comes

Nathan was declared dead an hour ago, but they're still the only two in the hospital.

Scott keeps opening his mouth, trying this think of something to say to Stiles, but comes up empty every time. He's sitting there, gravely silent and soaked in Nathan's blood, his eyes dead and distant. For the first time in five months, Scott's afraid. Not afraid in the 'run for your life' sense, but afraid that a repeat of five months ago in the bathroom might be an actual possibility.

His eyes are just so dead. They've been looking at the wall opposite of both of them for the entire time they've been seated here, unmoving and unblinking. If it wasn't for his ability to hear the steady beat of his heart, Scott genuinely would've thought he'd gone comatose. He's gripping the sides of the chair and his knuckles are a ghastly white.

The hospital doors swing open and several figures sprint down the hallways. Scott jumps from his seat when he sees Nathan's mom and the Sheriff sprint down the hallways of the hospital, past Melissa, who shouts a quick, "No running, please!" in futility as they pass. Scott knows his mom had been at the nurses station, eyeing Stiles just in case anything happened for a while now. She's probably the reason the Sheriff is even here instead of the crime scene, knowing what this incident would mean to Stiles.

Nathan's mom approaches the two boys and Scott steps in front of the still Stiles protectively out of instinct, putting his hand up. "Where is my son!" She cries out, her eyes not leaving Stiles or his blood-stained shirt. When Stiles doesn't answer, she screams it out again, "Where is my son?"

Stiles' eyes finally snap from their resting place on the wall and gaze up at her, stricken. He leaps from his seat and stares at her, his eyes wide and watery. "N-Nancy—" He tries to say more, but it catches in his throat and breaks off, a tear sliding down his cheek.

Scott can see the anger building up in the woman and casts a weary look at the Sheriff, who looks like he's contemplating handcuffing the woman, simply to prevent her from lashing out at his own son.

"Where is my son?"

"Ma'am, we didn't even know he'd been following us," Scott tries to get out, keeping Stiles a safe distance from her. "We didn't know he'd be at the graveyard, we're so—"

"Was I asking you?" Nancy spits, her voice poisonous and harsh. "Do you even think I even care about you at all, you… you… DOG."

Scott recoils from her words, the amount of venom coming from the woman a little overwhelming.

Stiles presses a hand on Scott's shoulder, moving him to the side so he's no longer in between the two. He gives Scott a sad, beaten look as he steps toward the grieving mother.

"He trusted you," she cries out, tears streaming down her face. "He trusted you!"

Stiles can't control his own tears. He mutters, "I-I'm so sorry—"

SMACK.

Everyone freezes in the room. Stiles doesn't even touch his cheek where Nancy's hand just contacted with his face, his skin already blazing a bright red from the contact. He looks a little startled, but after a moment, his face falls and Scott knows that he believes he deserves it.

"It's not often I'm willing to admit this, but here I am," Nancy says in a low voice, poison dripping from her words. "But I was wrong. I was wrong to bring him here. And most of all, I was wrong to ever believe you could help anyone!"

"Hey!" Scott shouts, pressing forward, but Stiles' arm is so quick, he's stopped before he can reach the woman. He could be handled being called a dog, but he cannot handle this. Not when he was showing glimmers of getting better. "Don't talk to him like that!"

She barely even registers that Scott's there. "I could never understand why Nathan was chosen – he was just a boy. An innocent. But I have no doubt in my mind why it chose you." She screams and Stiles' eyes widen just slightly – small enough so that Scott thinks that he's the only one who can see.

And then he smells it. It starts rolling off of Stiles in waves; guilt, anger, self-loathing, and sorrow. It swirls around him like a tornado, wrapping his best friend in an armor of hatred for himself.

The Sheriff's face is screwed up in distress – unsure of what to do – but he finally gets out, "It's time for you to go."

"No!" She shrieks, her words becoming more panicky and deranged. She won't take her eyes off of Stiles. "You murdered my son! You killed him!" She's screaming and before anyone can react, she pushes Stiles so he stumbles into the wall. She starts swinging, her frantic shots hitting Stiles in the face, shoulder, and chest, but he doesn't even try to defend himself. He doesn't put his hands up and he doesn't argue. "It's… all… your… fault!"

"That's enough!" The Sheriff snaps, grabbing the woman's arm and pulling her away from his son. "That's enough!" He shouts, his grip steely until she stops flailing around. When she calms, her chest is heaving and she's still staring poisonously at Stiles. "Be thankful that I'm not going to charge you with assault."

"Protecting him, again?" She spits. "You should be protecting people from him!"

The Sheriff only scowls, dragging the delirious woman from the area. Scott turns his attention to his best friend, who hasn't move, his face a bright red with a few scratch marks littering his skin. His eyes are empty.

XXX

He doesn't say anything the entire ride home. He brushes past the Sheriff and Scott when they reach the house and before either can say anything, the door to his room slams shut. Scott can hear the locks click in place.

XXX

Stiles looks around his room, the blank walls taunting him. His hands are trembling and he can still feel the sting of where Nancy slapped him on his cheek.

Besides his trembling, he's shockingly calm.

Calm because he's resolute. He knows now. He knows that this needs to be made right and if that means that he's reached his final days, he's okay with that.

Because, quite simply, he cannot continue on like this. It's too much. There's too much darkness for any normal human to endure. It's cruel. Before, when these dark thoughts descended, he was never sure if it was the Nogitsune or himself. This time, he's sure. He's certain that this is him. And he's contented with that.

"When you finally 'figure this one out,' like you always do Stilinski, I know you'll do the right thing."

Kate's words echo in his ears as he scrambles under his bed. It's a good thing his father didn't throw anything out while he was gone, because his hands hit the box he's searching for. He pulls it out from under the bed, the different colored yarns coming into view as he pulls it out.

His hands brush against the red yarn, taking a few breaths to calm himself down. He unravels a long piece of the red, curling it around his finger. Closing his eyes, he cuts the first string, tacking a few pictures to the wall.

"Alright, Stiles," he says softly to himself. "Time to figure this out."

XXX

Scott and the Sheriff sit in the kitchen in an uncomfortable silence. The Sheriff's phone continues to go off as they sit there, probably because he's not at the crime scene of the small boy, but Scott knows that he wouldn't be able to do his job properly anyway.

Scott listens to the general rustling of Stiles upstairs to calm himself down, focusing on his heartbeat fiercely. Neither of them will say it out loud, but both know there's one very important job Scott must do now. Stiles-watch. Scott counts heartbeats like it's keeping him grounded to the world. Maybe it is. But his heartbeat is strong and steady which, if Scott is being honest with himself, is shocking. No hints of panic attacks, no screaming. Just a steady and calm beat of his heart.

The phone beeps again and the Sheriff glances at it with a sigh. "The autopsy report on Nathan is complete." The Sheriff says with a voice that sounds like he's hundreds of years old. "They're calling it a mountain lion attack based off of the claws."

"Yeah," Scott says distantly, still counting heartbeats.

"This is going to get bad, isn't it?" The Sheriff says suddenly, rubbing his hands down his face.

"Yeah."

"It's moments like now that I could really use a drink." The Sheriff moans. Scott tears his attention away from heartbeats to look at the Sheriff, confused. The man shrugs. "Now's not a time to have my inhibitions lowered, as much as I wish it was. I fell apart when my wife died, leaving Stiles on his own for a while. I can't do that to him now. Never again."

Scott grows silent, unsure of how he feels about the Sheriff being so frank with him. He already feels like he's been forced to grow up far too quickly, but he isn't sure how he feels, being addressed like an adult. A part of him feels like he should feel appreciative, but it just makes him feel like the small child trying on his father's shoes. He doesn't know how to be an adult.

"Why would she kill an innocent 10-year-old boy?" The Sheriff asks.

It takes Scott a moment to realize that this question wasn't rhetorical. "Why would she murder all the Hales?"

The Sheriff frowns. After a moment of staring at his phone, he asks, "How is Derek handling her return?"

Scott's a little surprised by the question, but manages, "He's dealing. I can't say that he's entirely thrilled that the person responsible for his family's destruction is still around and more powerful than ever."

"Poor kid."

Scott can't help but look at the Sheriff with his remarks. He never really imagined Derek as a kid because he always seemed like such a mature force in their lives. But, the more he thought of it, his yard stick for maturity was Stiles and Isaac, and they leave a lot to be desired. Derek Hale is in his early twenties. Maybe he is just a kid.

They all are, really.

"Yeah."

The Sheriff gets out of his seat, the wood scraping loudly against the tile of the kitchen. "Do you want something to eat? We don't have much, but I think there's some leftover pizza in here."

Scott shrugs, not particularly hungry, but understanding the Sheriff's need to do something productive. He won't be the one to take that away from him.

The Sheriff places a plate in front of him with a questionable-looking slice of pizza in front of him (it's obvious that Stiles picked it out because it only had vegetables on it and what looks like a wheat-crust). The Sheriff has one himself and frowns. "This tastes like cardboard, by the way."

"Awesome."

The Sheriff huffs a chuckle. "Sometimes I think Stiles' obsession with my heart has gotten wildly out of hand."

"He just really loves you."

"Yeah, I know," The Sheriff says softly. After a moment of picking at his pizza, he groans, "I knew this was a terrible idea. I had a feeling in my gut – like I used to on cases with the supernatural that I couldn't quite figure out. I knew this was going to go horribly wrong and mess up every step of progress he's made."

Scott has to duck his head because he can feel the tears coming. "Me too," he agrees quietly.

The Sheriff shakes his head, his brows furrowing in anger. "I'm his father. I'm supposed to protect him. I'm supposed to make sure he's okay." He slams his fist on the table, causing everything to rattle and Scott to jump. "It's my most important job and I can't ever do it correctly. Ever since my wife died, I've be unable to keep him safe. I can't even do that for her."

"It's not your fault." Scott says, the words catching in his throat. Not just because it's what you say, but because it's true.

The Sheriff snorts. "It doesn't mean that I should get a pass for failing to make sure he's safe. He deserves to be safe and…" He clenches his fists. "I'm his father. I'm supposed to protect him."

"Sometimes, we can't protect everyone." Scott says softly, his own words hurting him.

He learned that one the hardest way possible.

The Sheriff opens his mouth to argue, but is cut off when an engine comes to life. He stares at Scott, his eyes wide. "It's the Jeep," he chokes out, getting out of his seat so quickly, the chair falls over.

The two rush to the door, the Sheriff yanks the door open, just as the Jeep rounds the corner and disappears from sight. The two stare at each other.

"How did I miss that?" Scott bellows, running to the driveway as Stiles' scent disappears with the back lights of the Jeep.

But the Sheriff is gone behind him. Scott frowns until he hears, "Scott!" from upstairs in the Stilinski house.

Scott rushes to Stiles room, stopping in the doorway as he does so.

It's too familiar.

The Sheriff stands in Stiles room, his eyes wide as he does so, looking around.

Pictures are scattered all along the wall, red string connecting all of them. The yarn criss-crosses around the room, pictures of places and people flanking either side of him. But then he sees it.

In the middle of the room. All the red threads converge into three pictures.

Stiles Stilinski.

Kate Argent.

…and Allison.

A/N: Sorry – this one is a bit shorter than most, but it's all important! Kate's plan will be revealed next chapter!

…with the reunion of an unexpected face!

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