W….. T F. I was NOT prepared for that. Were you!? I wasn't!

OoooO

Scott had lost count of the hours he'd racked up sitting at his kitchen table, staring at the door as if he expected Stiles to just walk in. Of course, that hadn't happened. Two weeks had passed and it hadn't happened. No matter how much he tried to deny it, Scott knew that the others were starting to lose hope… and so was he.

"Honey," said his mother, suddenly appearing at his side. He spared her a small glance, but otherwise remained silent. Melissa took a seat across from him and gingerly grabbed his hands. "Scott."

The alpha pulled his hands away. His mother tried to hide her hurt expression. "…I'm sorry," he said, running a hand over his face. "Mom, I'm sorry… It's just-"

"I know, honey," she replied. She offered him an understanding smile that lifted a small bit of the self-loathing from his heart. "I know."

"I just don't understand how he could have disappeared," Scott whispered. How many times he had said that, he didn't know… but it was an ever-persisting truth. Stiles had just… vanished.

His sorrowful train of thought was interrupted by the steady vibration of his phone on the table. Deaton.

"Hello!? What'd you find!?" he said, barely sliding the answer bar in time. He couldn't help his overzealousness; trying to find out more about the maagrim and what she had done to Stiles – how she had changed him – was all he had left to occupy his mind.

-Two Weeks Ago-

"You're sure this is the one?" Allison asked as they lined up quietly outside the station's back door. According to their deductions, this was the only place that the maagrim could be hiding Stiles. They had quickly thrown together a game plan and set out to rescue their friend.

"I'm sure of it," he replied, his voice firm. "Time to split. Derek, Isaac, go around to the tunnel entrance… just in case. Then we'll-"

"Wait!" Isaac said, startling them all.

"What!? We're wasting time! We need to move out now!"

"Without telling them what Stiles can do!?"

Scott blinked. 'Oh…'

"Scott? What's he talking about?" Lydia asked.

How could it have slipped his mind? Scott suddenly felt incredibly foolish. Here they were, woefully unprepared for what could potentially be the worse monster they've fought yet… and he completely forgot to mention that not only did Stiles fight them… but he did it with abilities that he ought not to possess. If they were going to rush into this without asking questions first, then he'd best prepare them as well as he could.

"Scott?" Allison said, lowering her bow.

The alpha sighed. "When Isaac and I tried to confront him… I don't know how he did it, but he was able to fend us off. Not just by running away… Hell, he didn't even touch us."

"He basically force threw us," Isaac elaborated. The others stared at Scott in silence.

"I don't know how strong it is… how he does it… if it's the maagrim, or what… But that's that. And, honestly… it's not going to stop me from going in there and finding him."

"You really thought neglecting to mention that little detail was a good idea?" Derek asked, obviously irritated. Scott sighed through his teeth.

"Do you really think it matters right now!? We're here! Let's go!"

-Present-

But they hadn't found anything.

There wasn't even a trace of Stiles' scent – his or the maagrim's. It had been a bitter disappointment further exacerbated by the fact that they had been searching for nearly two weeks and had yet to find a single clue. At this point, Scott would take anything as far as intel on Stiles was concerned.

"I'm sorry, Scott," Deaton finally replied. "I've been digging up as much as I can on these creatures, but… I can only speculate at this point."

Scott's heart dropped into his feet. He hung up on his mentor without a proper goodbye and slid his phone across the table in frustration. Luckily, his mother caught it before it went sailing off the edge and shattered into a million tiny pieces. She looked at him in an attempt to console him, but the teen already put his head on the table. There was nothing Melissa could do and it broke her heart.

OoooO

He had no idea where he was. The crumbling concrete and unfamiliar scent of rotting wood only further masked the identity of his location. The scenery was dull and grey, the sounds muddled from the fog and rain outside, and the building dark from lack of electricity. Nothing about it was homely or comfortable. Nothing about it made Stiles feel any less disgusting than he already did… nothing other than the sweet release of oxy in his body and the gnashing-yet-tender bites from Daliah. Only these things seemed to quell the unrest in his mind and body. Until the pain began, he would just sit there alone and staring out of the unfamiliar window into a dingy, unfamiliar street… waiting.

"Y'know… I never really understood why I was so drawn to your family… to you…" Daliah said as she walked from the darkness. Stiles turned from the window and walked further into the building, plopping down on an old mattress in the center of the room. Daliah followed him. "Not until now."

"Oh?" he asked, his voice scratchy from disuse.

"Your cousins were… quiet appetizing," she explained with a tone of amusement, "but not so filling as you are." Stiles felt the edge of the mattress depress beside him and he closed his eyes. "It's more than just misery that runs through your veins."

"I thought you didn't drink blood," he commented. Daliah chuckled.

"Not blood, Stiles… Power."

His breath caught as he felt Daliah's hands upon his torso. She took little care in whether or not her nails scratched the wounds she had left there. "Wha… what power…" he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. The teen may have succumbed to her bite, but it was taking everything he could to resist everything else… He was weak… Weak and pathetic… Those words alone kept him as vigilant as possible.

"I would've never known you, Stiles," she replied, placing a gentle kiss upon his brow. He felt her weight on his stomach as she straddled him. "If not for the Nemeton shouting it to the world… to those who listened for it…"

"The Nemeton?" Stiles asked, accidentally opening his eyes. Daliah was mere inches from his face and he was instantly lost in her gaze.

She slowly unzipped Stiles' hoodie, running her nails down the bared chest underneath. "And to think… all it took was a supercharged Celtic tree to open that door for you."

Something deep within the recesses of Stiles' mind reached out… something almost forgotten… "A do-"

Daliah's lips silenced his own. Unable to resist her sway, Stiles felt his willpower fading… And, before long, he was kissing her back, stripping the rest of his hoodie so that she could bite him, drink him, have her fill… and leave him in a blissful, numb haze of nothingness.

No weakness lay there.

No pain.

No memories.

Just sweet, sweet, nothing.

OoooO

It looked the same as when he'd left it. A few books tossed here and there, socks and a pair of pants haphazardly thrown in the vicinity of the clothes hamper, an open laptop and various food wrappers surrounding it atop his desk… The sheriff hadn't touched a thing since Stiles had gone missing. Despite the looks everyone had started to give him, the sheriff knew that Stiles would want it just as he'd left it when he got back.

If he came back at all.

Sheriff Stilinski shook his head. That was one outcome he just wasn't willing to accept yet. It didn't matter how long Stiles had gone missing… or under what circumstances. He was going to keep looking, just as he knew that Scott and the others were looking… Unless he was holding Stiles or Stiles' body, he wasn't going to stop.

After waiting a moment longer, the sheriff stepped into his son's room. Despite the horror stories he'd been told about the monster they were hunting, nothing in Stiles' room seemed amiss. So with a heavy heart and a careful hand, he began to search Stiles' room. He wasn't sure what he would find; he didn't even really know what he was looking for. All he knew was that sitting idly on his hands for the better part of two weeks was killing him.

"Come on, Stiles," he mumbled as he sifted through various papers and overturned pile after pile of his son's things. Maybe there was a clue to where he was… it was just hidden. Maybe the sheriff would find evidence of Stiles' slip into the monster's control. Maybe this, maybe that… It did little to calm the sheriff's nerves as he continued searching.

"Damnit, Stiles, there's gotta be something here," he growled. His searching became more frantic; what had started out as slow rummaging became a flurried rampage through the teen's belongings. The harder he looked, the more control the sheriff lost… until he finally collapsed against his son's bed.

Nothing.

Not a damn thing.

"Where are you…" A whimper slipped through the sheriff's lips as he looked around his son's room. What was once organized messiness was now complete and total chaos… nothing of it seemed like his son… the boy that had disappeared two weeks ago seemed nothing like his son… he was losing everything.

With only one tear, the man stood and began to tidy Stiles' room.

OoooO

A knock at the door finally brought Scott back to reality. He hadn't realized how long he'd kept his head down, wallowing in misery. He still wasn't motivated enough to answer the door, though, so his mother took the liberty. Scott didn't bother listening in, instead opting to put his head right back down on the table.

"Scott…?"

The teen's head jerked up at the familiar voice. Warm yet sad brown eyes met his own. "…Allison."

The girl smiled and took a seat adjacent to Scott. "Hey… You're mom let me in… I hope that's okay…"

"It's fine," Scott replied with a shrug of his shoulders, though he didn't linger in her gaze for long.

"Scott… Talk to me. Please." The alpha was silent. "Lydia… she blames herself. She won't talk to me… and all I know is that everyone else is worried about you. Scott, I'm worried about you… You need to talk to me."

It took a moment, but the alpha finally managed to look up at his friend. "…since when did you become a counselor?" he asked, his voice neutral.

Allison smiled sadly. "I'm not here to patronize you, Scott… I'm worried. We're all worried about each other, you know? It's just… you and Lydia are taking this the worst out of all of us… That," she paused as her cheeks flushed ever so slightly in embarrassment, "and your mom was nice enough to let me in."

Scott allowed his expression to soften slightly. "…you're right. I'm sorry," he said quietly. "It's just that… I've been thinking about where we are and where we were…" He looked fully at Allison, allowing her to see every bit of sorrow and remorse in his eyes. "Remember when we skipped school? And that was the challenge of the year?! About hiding from your dad or… or… or me keeping my grades up!? Remember when that was the worst of our worries?"

Allison lowered her gaze. "I remember."

"And, now… now people are dying. Erica, Boyd, our friends… I thought I could handle it, y'know? I thought I could do everything and anything that was required of me to be an alpha… to protect the ones I love…"

"Scott-"

"And I let my best friend slip through my fingers…"

Allison remained silent.

"I let him slip through my fingers, Allison. And you… I let you slip right through them, too… I couldn't help Jackson or Erica and Boyd… Isaac as well… I let everyone down… I was so wrapped up in myself that I let everyone around me slip away!" He paused and Allison met his eyes – they were nearly frantic. "I can't… I can't lose anyone else, Allison… If I can't keep those around me safe, how can I call myself an alpha? How can I say that… when I can't protect people I love, even Deaton, or my mother, or… you? How!?"

At that last statement, Allison froze. Scott could hear her breath catch in her throat… it made his chest ache even worse.

"I know," he said, "I know that you and I are through. That we're over. And I know about Isaac and all of that and just… I know… But…"

Suddenly, Allison's slender hand reached out and grabbed Scott's. "Scott," she said hoarsely. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Scott, listen to me… I'm not going anywhere."

"But, Stiles-"

"No, Scott. Nothing will snatch me away. Nothing and no one. As long as there is evil and darkness to be fought here, then I'll be here just the same… There are people here that I love and want to protect, too, Scott… and nothing will stand in the way of that. I'm not going to be taken away, I'm not going to abandon you or Stiles, and I'm not going to die. Nothing is going to stand in the way of protecting my friends. And that's coming from a human… Scott…"

"…"

She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "Nothing should be able to stand in your way, either."

OoooO

There was a very light click-clack as the last couple oxy fell from the pill bottle and into Stiles' mouth. He stared at the container with contempt as he dry-swallowed the tiny favors. He was out… Completely and totally out of the only other thing that kept him functioning…

And that was just it. Without them, he would cease to have his own mind, his own heart, his own will… He would have to venture out and retrieve more.

The thought of leaving his strange encampment become more appealing the more he thought about it. He couldn't deny that the idea of fresh air was better than sitting in solitude for much longer. It puzzled him as to why he hadn't considered exploring his surroundings earlier. However, he quickly solved the riddle; what use was it to wander? He wasn't going anywhere anyways… There was nothing left for him, save this… And this would only last until every last drop of his humanity was drained from him by the monster Daliah.

However, this was an issue… The only way he survived the periods between her bites was with the drugs. Without them, he'd be her slave completely… with no ability to resist her in any capacity. It was his lucky night, then, for she had already left for the evening. Stiles had no idea what she did during her wanderings… only that they were random. More often than not, she was with him, either sleeping during the day or draining him in the night.

Finally reaching a decision, Stiles prepared himself for the journey by lacing up his sneakers and zipping the hoodie over his naked torso. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him: he didn't actually have experience buying drugs. On top of that, he didn't even have any money.

"Damnit," he cursed quietly. He almost jumped at the sound of his own voice.

This only meant one thing: he'd have to return home for money… And, if anyone was home, he'd have to brave the ones he'd betrayed.

OoooO

One final sip and the druid's tea mug was empty. Deaton sighed; this night was proving to be more and more difficult. Not matter how many nights he had spent pouring over every source he owned, he just couldn't manage to find anything more on the maagrim and the effects they had on their hosts, aside from the obvious. He hated calling Scott every night with bad news, but he'd promised to check in daily… just in case.

The clinic phone began to ring. Since calls during the night were rare, he decided to let the machine answer. If it was an emergency, he'd respond, but other than that…

"Um… Hi. Hello. This is Melissa. McCall. Scott's mom…"

Deaton stopped what he was doing immediately and listened intently.

"I, uh… I don't have your personal number, so I thought that maybe this was the next best way to reach you… I know what you and Scott have been looking into and I think I mi-"

"Hello!" he answered, slightly out of breath. "My apologies, I was in my office and I assumed it was a client trying to set up an appointment."

"It's no problem," Melissa replied.

"You said you had something? Potentially?"

There was a sigh on the other end of the receiver. "I don't know if it'll help, but… at least it's something."

Deaton let out his own sigh. "At this point, I'm willing to hear anything… How's Scott, by the way? I haven't seen him since last week and…"

"He's taking it pretty hard," the boy's mother replied, "which is why I figured it'd be better to help where I could instead of assuming that this was nothing…"

"And by 'this' you mean…"

"Stiles' mother."

The druid had to admit… he hadn't been expecting that. "I… don't know much about her," he confessed. "From what little I've gleaned, she died several years ago, yes? Some sort of… terminal illness?"

"That's correct," Melissa replied. "It wasn't the easiest passing, either… which is why I think 'this' is important…"

"I'm listening."

Deaton waited patiently while Scott's mother listed off a variety of symptoms and similarities. As she continued, a certain idea began to form in the druid's mind. Under any other circumstances he would have labeled the idea impossible… But this was Beacon Hills…. Where the impossible became more than likely something that might drag you off into the woods and eat you.

"Could you stay on the line, please?" he asked, struck with inspiration.

"Yeah, of course…"

The sound of various papers being tossed about filled the receiver. Melissa McCall waited patiently while Deaton began to connect the dots to… everything. Finally, the entire ordeal made perfect sense.

"You need to send Scott here right away," he said.

"You have something!?"

"Please, just send him as soon as possible."

OoooO

The sheriff kept his gaze fixed on the fifth of Jameson. It sat innocently on his kitchen counter, new, completely untouched, seal unbroken, ready for the drinking… Stilinski couldn't even remember the last time he drank whiskey, though he was pretty sure that had something to do with Stiles pouring drink after drink down his throat to make him a little more forthcoming with information.

Thinking of his son's wily ways only made the pain of his absence worse. He wondered if he would have the willpower to resist drinking throughout this new ordeal… He'd been dangerously close to alcoholism when his wife passed… he didn't know if he could survive losing his last remaining family.

He was so lost in his somber thoughts that he almost didn't notice the squeak of his front door opening. 'At 10:30 at night' he thought, his heart skipping a beat. Then, another thought occurred to him and he rushed from the kitchen and into the hallway.

There stood his son, just as surprised to see his father as the sheriff was to see him… He was pale, sickly, and looked like death, but there he was. Stiles, his son… standing before him…

The sheriff ran to him, wrapping his arms around the frail boy. "Stiles," he whispered through choking sobs. "Stiles, my son…"

"Get… off me…"

The words stung as they fell from Stiles' mouth, but not as bad as the shove did. Sheriff Stilinski stared at his son incredulously as the teen kept his arm outstretched… Stiles could barely keep himself upright.

"No, Stiles," the sheriff whispered. His son could barely focus his gaze on the man as he tried to step past him. "No!" he shouted, lunging forward.

"Let go!" Stiles growled as he attempted to dislodge himself from his father yet again. "Please, Dad… Just let me go!"

"No," the sheriff sobbed as he clutched his son. "I'm here for you now… I'm not letting you go. I'm not letting you go back to that monster."

"It's the only way," Stiles whispered, his voice catching in his throat. "Please!" he continued to struggle. "This is the only way I can save you… Dad, this is the only way you live…"

"I don't care."

At this, Stiles' entire demeanor changed.

"I don't care what you think," he spat out with a voice like acid. He pushed away and backed against the wall. "I just came for more drugs."

The sheriff's eyes widened. "Stiles, you can't mean that…"

"I mean it!" he shouted. The exertion made his knees weak and he slid down the wall. "I need them… I need them to survive you! Not that monster… I see you got the booze out, huh? Come on, Dad, let me have a sip. Like father like son, you pathetic alcoholic…"

The sheriff just shook his head and whispered, "I love you, Stiles."

"I don't care…"

"Yes, you do!" his father plead. "And even if you mean that… you're still my son… and I love you… and I'm so sorry that I wasn't there for you…"

At this, Stiles grew still. His strength was beginning to fail him. "D… Dad…"

His father sucked in a breath. "I'm so sorry…" He reached out to his son and clutched him in his arms once more. "I'm so sorry…"

For a moment, all of his strength, that little tiny part of Stiles that had given him the strength to make the decision to stay away… the part that kept him from asking for help for fear of what he'd put his friends and family through… it fell away.

He gripped his father's jacket with renewed intensity. "I'm sorry," he whispered as he buried his head in his father's shoulder. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to be rid of Daliah, of the burden he carried, of the pain and misery… He wanted to be held, to be safe, and to feel happiness once again.

In that moment, he wanted to come home.

OoooO

"Deaton!" Scott called out as he and Allison entered the clinic.

"In here!" shouted the mentor from within. The two teens quickly made their way inside where they found Deaton in his office, surround by mountains of documents. "I'm glad you made it here quickly."

"Mom said it was an emergency," the alpha explained.

Deaton nodded. "It is… I think I've discovered what it is about Stiles… What makes his little 'show of affection' to you and Isaac possible."

Scott glanced at Allison before taking a seat on a small stool. "Tell me everything."

At this, his mentor sifted through several different documents before presenting a few of them to Scott and Allison. They mostly contained different species of shape-shifters known to humanity… At least, what little documented proof there was that was reliable. "I'm sure you recognize these; werewolf, kanima, and so on," Deaton proffered. Scott nodded.

"Yeah, all of these… Wow, I didn't even know half of these species existed…"

"Exactly. It's a vastly untapped resource, the supernatural world… But, even for all its vast weirdness, there are rules and such that make sense… that line up. There are Druids and kanimas and such, but there's a method to the madness… even to an ancient, Celtic tree stump." He pulled out a few more sheets of old paper. "Rarely, and I mean rarely does mutation occur within the species. The transfer of toxins from creature to human is a natural reaction… like being bitten by a snake. Or a spider. You're poisoned… or transformed, in this case. You either survive or you die. Nothing more, nothing less."

He stared expectantly at the two, but the teens were silent. Finally, Allison shook her head. "I don't understand… what does this have to do with Stiles?"

The druid grabbed the document with an illustration of a nasty-looking lizard on it. "Think of Jackson… He was bitten by a werewolf, so… by all logic, he should have become one, yes?"

"Yeah, but he didn't," Scott replied. Then, he paused. "…because there was something wrong with him…"

"Yes!" Deaton replied. "An anomaly. A pre-existing condition. Jackson's emotional instability was so damaging, so powerful, that it completely altered the outcome of The Bite. He was already an incredibly unstable human being. It only makes sense."

"So, the maagrim didn't pass on this power to Stiles then," Allison deducted.

Deaton shook his head. "No, the maagrim don't possess any natural abilities of telekinesis, or the ability to move objects with their minds… They're natural powers are the amplification of emotions, sensations, and the removal of these as well. They operate on a strictly emotion-based power scheme. In conclusion, they cannot cause random abilities to develop in a human…

"…unless the potential is already there," Scott finished. Deaton nodded again.

"Exactly."

Allison crossed her arms. "You mean… Stiles always had this ability? To, y'know… move objects with his mind?"

"Yes and no," the mentor replied. "We all know now that the maagrim are drawn to the miserable, yes?" The teens nodded. "And do you remember what I said about becoming surrogate sacrifices for the Nemeton?"

"You said it'd make this place a beacon… that it'd draw the supernatural here," Scott replied.

"Stiles is… not really the most emotionally stable person we know, either," Deaton said, careful not to sound harsh. "And by using him as a surrogate sacrifice, we broadcasted that information to the entire supernatural community. Not only that, but if he has this hidden ability, then that information was broadcasted as well… I don't know about you, but I'm a starving a monster, then I would want something filling, especially if it was so easy for the taking, not just any Joe Blow on the street with heartbreak."

"But we gave power to the Nemeton, not ourselves," Allison interjected.

"Ah!" Deaton said with a shake of his finger. "This is where you're mother came in handy, Scott."

"My mom?" the alpha inquired.

"She overheard many of our conversations," Deaton explained, "and she suddenly remembered something… about Stiles' mother." He sighed deeply as he plunged into the unpleasant topic. Allison listened intently; she could see the sorrowful expression on Scott's face deepen at the mention of his best friend's mother. Of course, she hadn't met any of them yet when Stiles' mother passed away, but she knew enough to never bring it up in casual conversation. "It seems," Deaton continued, "that as Claudia's health began to decline, she started claiming to have certain… abilities."

"Stiles' mom thought she had telekinesis," Scott said flatly.

"No, but there were other things she claimed she could do," the druid explained. "According to your mother, the worse she got, the stronger and more uncanny these claimed abilities became; she said she would speak with the dead, listen to what people's hearts truly wanted, sense the emotions of those around her… basically a epithet on steroids. The part that most often shocked people was the degree to which she was accurate."

Scott felt a chill run down his spine. "So… you think Stiles got it from her?"

Deaton shrugged. "That's the only logical assumption… Your mother would have dismissed it entirely if not for the similarity of the situation. It might be death that connects the two; as Claudia Stilinski became worse and worse, her powers became stronger and stronger… Stiles technically died… and I think that act of being the surrogate sacrifice was what connected the circuits inside him to allow this power to actually manifest."

"It would make him the ideal feeder," Allison reasoned bitterly.

"Ideal indeed," he replied. "You mentioned that Stiles spoke through Lydia briefly?" he asked the teens.

"Yeah… when Clyde was still alive. He was trying to locate them," Scott answered.

"I'm not sure how much you know about Stiles' parents and his mother's death, but the sheriff once shared with Melissa that his wife communicated with him through a dying girl… a car crash victim. The woman had told him it was okay to leave, to go back to his wife if he wanted, but he chose to stay. Back at the hospital, Stiles' mother could only speak of how proud she was of her husband… That she had given him an opportunity to be at her side, but he couldn't abandon the civilians he had made an oath to protect… Apparently, no one knew what she was talking about."

"So, you think that the whole thing with Stiles talking through Lydia… that was actually all Stiles' doing? No help from Clyde?" Scott asked. His mentor nodded.

"Yes, I believe so."

"Then we need to talk to the sheriff," Allison prompted urgently.

Scott's loud ringtone started everyone in the room. "Woah… sorry," he said sheepishly as he pulled it out. "Huh… Speak of the devil." Sheriff Stilinski was displayed across the top. "Hey," he answered. "I was just about… to…"

Allison and Deaton didn't need supernatural hearing to pick up the frantic voice of Stiles' father on the other end. Scott's eyes widened. Moments later, without a good bye, he hung up the phone.

"We need to get to Stiles' house. NOW."

OoooO

Exciting! I hope you enjoyed it… Things are getting crazy… So I'm gonna go stare at Stiles gifs on tumblr for a few hours.