Chapter Text
Something warm and wet dripped down on his face rousing him. He felt the dripping again and his eyes fluttered open. Darkness concealed the source but the wetness spread down his cheek. It was just a few drops. Had he been crying? Hastily Stiles threw his sheet off, sat up and reached for his lamp. A drop of something warm trickled down his back. Stiles craned his neck upward then jumped off the bed. His father was hanging from the ceiling, his throat slit, uniform stained with blood, blood that was now dripping onto Stiles’s blue sheets. The Sheriff’s own handcuffs gleamed in the dim light as he swung gently from his wrists. “DAD!” he screamed, “Oh God no! DAD!” Panicking he jumped up onto the bed and shook his father. Managing to just get his arms around his legs he pulled and droplets of blood rained down onto the bed and in his hair. “Dad,” Stiles choked, “please. Please.” His body was shaking from the effort of pulling, he could feel the body bloating and stiffening under his fingers. He wasn’t thinking straight. Of course he couldn’t pull him down. He needed a ladder and the keys, or at least something to pick the lock. Stiles fell to his knees looking up at his father’s swaying body. “Dad, I’m going to get you down,” he sobbed. The Sheriff’s eyes snapped open and he tried to say something but all that came out was a gurgled groan and more blood seeping from the wound in his neck. His eyes bulged as he looked at his son, “Stilesssssss.” “Dad?” he asked in a shaking voice. “Stiles, wake up!”
***
Hands were holding him down. “STILES! CALM DOWN!” He opened his eyes and saw his father looming over him gripping his shoulders. The worry and concern shone in his dad’s gaze as he gave his son a cursory glance. “Stiles? I’m going to let go now okay?” Stiles nodded and bolted upright grabbing his father into a crushing hug. The Sheriff rubbed his back, “Another bad dream?” Stiles nodded still not trusting himself to speak, not wanting to let go of his father quite yet. “Breathe, Stiles.” He knew he was on the verge of a panic attack. Stiles concentrated on his breathing, in and out, nice and slow. Count to three on the inhale, count to three on the exhale. After a few minutes he loosened his grip.
His father pulled away slowly. “You okay?”
Stiles ran his hands through his hair and looked back at his father, “Yeah.”
“I’ve got to get to the station. You going to be all right? You want to come with?”
Stiles shook his head and rolled his shoulders back, “I’m fine.”
When he heard the cruiser pull out of the driveway Stiles reached for his phone and flopped back on his bed. The glow from his phone illuminated his face and in the pallid dawn hour his fingers swished across the screen taping rapidly, Can you come over? He received a reply a few minutes later. Stiles didn’t bother getting dressed and lay on his bed trying to analyze his dream. When he heard the doorbell ring about half an hour later he roused himself and lumbered down the stairs. Scott stood on the porch with a steaming cup of coffee. Stiles gratefully took it from him and started chugging the warm brew down. He led the way to the kitchen and Scott settled into a chair around the small kitchen table.
When he came up for air Scott asked, “Dreams again?”
“Yeah.”
“You?”
“Yeah.”
“Same one?”
“No, not this time. But my dad was still dead and I couldn’t save him.”
Scott scratched his neck, “I sort of wish mine was.”
“That much fun around the McCall house lately huh?”
Stiles started pacing in front of the fridge as Scott continued, “I don’t even know why my mom lets him in. She knows I don’t want to talk to him.”
“Maybe she is just being nice.”
Scott laughed, “Yeah sure,” he paused, “I think it’s getting to her though.”
“Your dad being back in town?”
“Yeah, all of it. She knows something is off with me. She can tell I haven’t been sleeping well.” Scott went to the fridge and poured himself a glass of orange juice. “I mean I don’t wake up screaming as much as you do,” he said taking a sip settling back down at the table, “but I know she can sense it.”
“Deaton said it will be a while, that there will be an adjustment period.”
“I tried to explain that to her but how can I explain something that I don’t even understand myself?”
“I can’t decide if it’s a good thing or a bad thing that we are on break now.”
“What do you mean?”
“At least school was a distraction.”
“Stiles you are almost always distracted,” Scott grinned.
“Yeah, yeah. Psycho alphas on the loose? Check. Evil Darach druid thing? Check. Creepy Uncle Peter being his creepy self? Check. Derek losing his alphaness and boning out. Check. I’m not distracted Scott there are a lot of balls in the air.”
Scott laughed and Stiles gave him a look. “Ugh balls are not funny right now Scott. Too much evil witchy crap going on.”
“Yeah well for me, also normal boring crap. Like what to do about my dad. And what am I going to get my mom for Christmas?”
Stiles rolled his eyes, “Dude. Ignore him and scarf,” he gestured between them, “Bigger fish to fry here! Have you talked to Allison?”
He could see Scott deflate a bit. “No. Have you?”
“I’ve had a few texts. I think we should have a meeting and compare notes.”
“Notes?”
“Yes. Maybe she is having the weird dream thing too.” Stiles pulled out his phone and started tapping away. “Okay, let’s go,” he said grabbing his keys off the counter.
“Where?”
“To see Allison.”
Scott reached over and took the keys from him, “You maybe want to put some real clothes on first?”
***
They took the jeep and met Allison at an abandoned warehouse downtown that had become a sort of de facto training center for Hunters. An arrow sailed across the room and embedded itself in the doorframe where Scott stood in front of Stiles.
“What the hell Allison?!” Stiles squawked from behind Scott clutching his chest.
“Sorry, you can never be too sure.”
“It’s the middle of the day and you agreed to meet us!” Stiles adamantly reminded her.
Lydia sat on a couch across the room and wrinkled her nose. “Will you all just kiss and makeup so we can get this going?”
Stiles flushed. He still remembered what it felt like. Her soft lips moving slowly and softly against his. He had dreamed of that moment for years. He was pretty damn sure that kissing someone is not the way to stop a panic attack, he googled it like a million times, so her excuse was flimsy. But to his surprise it hadn’t felt the way he had imagined it. It was nice but, maybe it was the panic rising in his chest, the imminent sense of doom and despair, worry about his dad, but he hadn’t felt it. That spark that he was told about, that he used to dream about. He saw how Scott had been draw to Allison immediately. They had definitely sparked. Maybe he had built it up too much. But she hadn’t called or texted him after the whole I’ve been kind of been dead for hours thing. Stiles knew Lydia was sort of with Aiden and that she was still in contact with Jackson. He hadn’t really expected anything but it felt that maybe his crush on her was finally fading away. Maybe it was the near death experience. Maybe they just would have never worked, but somehow Stiles felt his attachment to her lessening. Again, he couldn’t really tell what it was though, especially with Deaton’s ominous warning that they would all have a kind of darkness around their hearts. Stiles shook his head and refocused himself.
The three of them walked across the room to join Lydia at the couch. Stiles sank down next to her, “Okay gang. Time for show and tell,” he said rubbing his hands together. Lydia rolled her eyes.
“Dreams?”
Lydia interrupted him, “She’s been having them. Mostly nightmares. She wakes up screaming every other night,” she finished sweetly.
“Lydia!” Allison cried her arms folded across her chest.
“What? It’s all cards on the table time if we are going to try to figure something out.”
“Scott and I have been having them as well.” Stiles looked at Lydia, “Have you?”
“No, I mean no more so than my usual dreams, but then again I wasn’t dead for 16 hours.”
Stiles turned to Allison, “What are the dreams about? What happens?”
“My dad is dead. Sometimes my mom and dad are both dying. Mostly it’s just my dad,” she said softly.
“Me too,” he said quietly, “I can never save him.”
Scott looked down to the floor, “It’s my mom in mine.”
Allison looked across their little gathered circle at Lydia, “Well she’s been having dreams about Peter.”
“Creepy Uncle Peter?!” Stiles stuttered, “No more than your usual dreams?”
Lydia turned a bit pink.
“What kind of dreams?” Scott asked.
Lydia narrowed her eyes at Allison.
Stiles continued, “He’s already been resurrected thanks to you. What now?”
“It’s a younger version of himself,” she started but then shook her head deciding better of continuing.
“What happened to all cards on the table?” Allison mocked.
Stiles looked between Allison and Lydia, “What kind of dreams? Dreams in which he is dead and disemboweled I hope.”
“They are personal.”
“Personal? Personal?! All dreams are personal! How personal? Naked personal?”
Lydia shot Allison a death glare. Allison gave her a tight smile and tried to change the subject. “Let’s just stick with personal,” she recommended.
“I don’t like that Peter is still around. Especially with Derek gone,” Scott chimed in.
Lydia shivered, “Me either but I’m going away for a while so hopefully he won’t be here when I get back or he’ll be back in the ground.”
“Family vacation?” Scott asked.
Lydia gave a bitter laugh, “Hardly. I’m going to London to visit Jackson for the break.”
“Because of Peter?”
“Because of a lot of things. Besides Allison is going to France. We’re flying to London together, I’ll be with the Argents, and then they will continue onto France.”
“You’re leaving?” Scott asked in a sad tone.
Allison looked up at Scott, “My dad thinks it will be better for me to regroup and retrain in the motherland. Says that they have some herbs or something, a coven of witches in Provence that could help with the um, aftereffects.”
“Plus while I’m in the UK I can do some druid research,” Lydia said.
“I guess the more information we have the better. Deaton only knows so much and he hasn’t exactly been that forthcoming with what he does know,” Scott admitted.
“I think we are in uncharted territory here,” Stiles said.
***
They drove back to Stiles’s place and played Call of Duty on his X-box for a while. Nothing like pretend killing things to mitigate things actually trying to kill you.
After a few hours of mindless playing Stiles got up to stretch. He craned his neck around to look at the clock, “I’m going to start dinner. You want to stay?”
“Can’t have to pick up my mom.” He followed Stiles into the kitchen.
Out came an onion, garlic, broccoli, carrots, asparagus, a jar of capers and lemons. As Stiles sliced and diced the kitchen filled with the warm delicious smell of a home cooked meal. He sautéed the onions first, then added the garlic and carrots.
“Dude how did you learn to make this? Are you following a recipe?” Scott was always appreciative of anyone who could make food in any capacity.
“No, it’s just something I’ve thrown together before. Once you learn a few basics it’s pretty simple.” He added the chopped broccoli and asparagus before going over to the fridge to pull out a bottle of white wine. Stiles poured a bit over the mixture and listened to the sizzle. Then he added the capers and the juice. “You want to help?”
Scott looked frightened. “Can you cut that lemon in half?” Getting up from the kitchen table he went to the cutting board and carefully sliced the lemon in half vertically. Stiles raised his eyebrows when Scott asked him, “Now what?”
He looked down at the lemon and then back at Scott, “Seriously? That is how you cut a lemon?” Confusion bloomed across Scott’s face. “Nevermind. Just squeeze it over the pan, don’t let the seeds inside.”
Scott stood at the stove and squeezed one half then the next. Stiles meanwhile added some butter and olive oil to the mix. He stirred the mixture and then shut off the heat moving the pan to another burner.
“Please don’t tell me you’ve never boiled water before.”
“Ha, ha.”
Stiles pulled out a big pot and Scott filled it with water setting it on a burner while Stiles prepped a salad.
“Make sure you salt the water.”
The sound of the front door opening filtered back into the kitchen, “Stiles, I’m home,” his father called.
“Hey dad, we’re back here.” Sheriff Stilinski entered into the kitchen looking a bit weary. “Dinner is almost ready,” Stiles said taking a package of quinoa pasta from the cupboard and dumping in into the boiling water.
The Sheriff eyed the box and recognized that it was some sort of healthy pasta, “Great,” he said suspiciously.
“You’ll love it,” Stiles countered sensing his hesitation.
“Scott you staying for dinner?”
“No, actually I’m going to pick up my mom.”
“I’ll walk you out.”
The Sheriff pulled Scott up short as he walked to his motorcycle. “He’s been screaming almost every night,” the Sheriff said in a hushed tone. “What the hell happened to you guys?”
Scott looked guiltily back at the Sheriff, “Deaton said there would be consequences.”
“Consequences?”
“Stiles barely sleeps as it is! You know how his brain is always going. And now he,” the Sheriff paused, “And now this. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to help him. Do you?”
Scott thought back on his own nightmares and shook his head. “No.”
“Look I know I’m new to the inner circle or whatever, but we need some answers, we have to do something.” The Sheriff took in the darkness under Scott’s eyes and narrowed his gaze. “The same thing is happening to you isn’t it?” Scott looked away and nodded weakly. Sheriff Stinlinski pulled out his mobile phone, “Melissa? We need to have a little chat.”
***
The Sheriff went back into the kitchen as Stiles was laying down plates of salad on the table. “Got to get some greens in you. Green things are good for you!” Stiles saw his dad sit down and pick up a fork. He emptied the pasta from the water and mixed it into the sauce before joining his father at the table. “So how was work?” he asked unfolding his napkin.
“It’s been fairly quiet lately so we are working on some backlogged case files.”
Stiles munched down his salad. “That sounds a bit less stressful.” They ate for a few minutes in silence then Stiles went to the stove to dish out the pasta.
The Sheriff looked skeptically at the dish before taking a forkful, “This is pretty good.”
Stiles beamed, “Thanks.”
“Stiles,” he started, “You’ve been having a lot of trouble sleeping,”
“I’ve always had trouble sleeping,” Stiles interrupted.
“This isn’t about bedtimes anymore.” The Sheriff put down his fork and looked at his son, “Will you please tell me what is going on?”
Shoving pasta in his mouth so he couldn’t talk Stiles merely chewed at his father, but he knew that he wasn’t going to avoid his questions for long. He swallowed slowly watching his father’s patience wearing thin, “I told you, I haven’t been sleeping well.”
“What are the nightmares about?”
“Who said I’m having nightmares?”
“Stiles you’ve been waking up screaming almost every morning and on the verge of a panic attack.”
“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” he said evasively.
The Sheriff slammed his hand down on the table causing his plate to jump up, “Damn it Stiles! I’m worried about you. You’ve told me about all this werewolf crap. What is it that you can’t tell me now?”
How about that I was technically dead for about 16 hours? He didn’t want to lie to his father but he also didn’t want him to worry about something that no one had any control over, least of all his dad. “When we were trying to locate you, Ms. McCall and Mr. Argent, there were complications.”
“What sort of complications?”
“Deaton knew of a way to locate you, a sort of spell or ritual, but it had a price.”
“What price?”
Stiles scratched his head, “Well, that is actually what we aren’t so sure about it.”
“We? Who took part in this ritual or whatever it was?”
“Well Deaton, Lydia, Isaac and Allison, me and Scott. But the three of us were affected most.”
“You, Scott and Allison?”
“Yes.”
“And now you think these nightmares are some sort of what? Consequence?”
“That’s about it.”
The Sheriff picked up his fork again and started to finish his pasta, “Is that everything?”
“It’s about all we know right now.” They went back to eating in silence.
“I’ll be around tomorrow, I’m working the graveyard shift tomorrow night.”
“Great,” Stiles said trying to be enthusiastic, “Maybe we could go for a jog?” His father groaned.
***
Stiles walked up to the nematon feeling the power pulsing from it, drawing him closer and closer. Something slid underneath his feet as he walked. He walked and walked yet still wasn’t closer to the thing and the ground kept feeling softer and more slippery. When he almost slipped Stiles looked down. Viscera and blood made a sort of macabre yellow brick road leading to the strange pulsating object of power. He stepped on an eyeball feeling it squish between his toes. Another one lay further ahead. Bending down to examine the thing it looked vaguely familiar to him. Stiles continued down the path and tripped over what he assumed what a small intestine. He felt a sense of longing; he needed to get to the nematon. As he continued down the path his foot hit something hard and Stiles tripped landing on his left hip. Slowly he turned around to see what he had tripped over. It was a head, the back of a head to be precise. A growing sense of unease shot through him, the hair looked familiar. He crawled on the ground toward the head, his skin feeling slick and wet with blood and gore. Gently he picked up the head and turned it around in his hands. His father’s empty sockets stared blankly back at him. Stiles felt the scream start in the back of his throat and tear through him.
***
He was being shaken, violently and was screaming. As the awareness of warm hands came to focus Stiles stopped screaming and opened his eyes. His father was looming over him. “Dad,” he whispered his breathing shallow. He sat up quickly noticing how his father’s arms hadn’t left him. The Sheriff looked at his terrified son. Stiles didn’t blink for a whole minute. “Stiles, it’s okay. You’re safe,” he said softly. Stiles shook his head and blinked slowly. The Sheriff got up and went into the bathroom. Running water sounded. He pulled Stiles up and pushed him toward the bathroom. “Take a shower, it will relax you.” “Coffee?” Stiles asked weakly. His father nodded and left him.
***
Melissa McCall was just getting off a graveyard shift as the cruiser pulled outside of the hospital. She walked round to the passenger’s side and got in. The Sheriff was also just getting off so he figured this would be a good time to talk to Melissa and also sneak in a breakfast at the diner. She yawned as they pulled up to Polly’s Pancakes.
“Long day?”
Melissa shot him a glare, “I have a feeling it’s about to be longer.”
The Sheriff held the door open for her and they settled into a booth. The place was almost empty except for Joe Stello nursing a cup of coffee at the counter. Sue came around with two mugs.
“Decaf,” they both said at the same time.
She mixed in two sugars and added some half and half and took a sip. Melissa smiled a weary smile at him from across the table. The coffee helped ease the burden of the morning.
“Thanks for meeting with me on such short notice,” the Sheriff started, “I thought since you and I were both working late this would be easiest.”
“Yeah well I know that we both just want to crawl into bed right now,” she noticed the Sheriff turning a bit red, it crept up from his neck and into his cheeks, “but wolf emergencies wait for no one.”
“Right,” he said gruffly. He cleared his throat, “I wanted to ask you about Scott. How has he been doing since, well you know.” He took a sip of his own coffee.
Melissa played with her spoon. “I’m not entirely sure but I know that it isn’t good. His appetite is affected, I see evidence of disturbed sleep.”
“Stiles is barely sleeping and when he does he wakes up screaming.” Sheriff Stilinski shook his head, “It’s almost every night.”
Sue came back with her order pad in hand, “What will it be?”
“Two plus two plus two plus two, please.” “Scrambled? With bacon, sausage, white toast and a short stake?”
“Yes, please Sue.” Melissa gave him a look, “Um, better back that a two plus two plus two. Scrambled, bacon and wheat toast.”
“And for you?” she asked turning to Melissa. “I’ll have two eggs sunnyside up, sausage and the short stack.”
“Thanks hun,” Sue said turning away from them.
They nursed their coffee while waiting for their breakfast. Melissa frowned, “I wonder if the sleep issue is happening to all of them then.”
“Have you talked to Chris?”
Melissa couldn’t help but catch something in his voice, “No.”
“Have you?”
“No,” he took a sip of coffee and sighed, “Maybe we should loop him in on this as well.”
“The more information we have the better,” she agreed.
The Sheriff ran a hand through his short hair, Melissa smiled thinking of Stiles. “You know Stiles has problems with anxiety,” he said quietly.
Melissa nodded.
“Every morning it’s like he’s fighting off a panic attack.”
She could see the worry in his eyes. Melissa mirrored his concern. Sue arrived a moment later with their food. They tucked in Melissa buttering up her pancakes and setting them aside, going for her eggs and sausage, the Sheriff buttering his toast.
Sue returned a moment later with a carafe of coffee, “Top up hun?” she asked Melissa.
“Sure.”
She moved toward the Sheriff who nodded his head. Sue topped off his mug and walked back behind the counter. They ate for a few moments in silence. The warm food settling just right. She couldn’t wait to get to sleep. When she finished with her eggs she moved a pancake off the stack and onto her plate. “What are the dreams about?”
“I don’t know, he won’t tell me.”
“Scott is the same. He just says that they are the after effects of whatever it is they did that night to help locate us.”
“I asked him about that, he doesn’t seem to know much about it or when it will stop.”
Melissa shifted the pancake plate over to the Sheriff. He looked across at her and she nodded, “I won’t tell.”
The Sheriff doused them in syrup and began to devour them in earnest.
“Scott has been sort of distant and moody. Well, more so than usual anyway. He was worse after he and Allison broke up. Sometimes I try to talk to him and it feels like he’s a million miles away.”
“It’s the opposite with Stiles, he is always hyperaware, now it seems even more so.”
“Things with his father are strained.”
The Sheriff did not know what to say, he couldn’t possibly imagine being estranged from his son. Stiles was everything to him.
“I’m thinking of taking him away.”
“Away?”
“Something to take his mind off things. A little vacation. Something that will look good on the resume for college. I’m thinking Habitat for Humanity in Haiti.”
Sheriff Stilinski rubbed his face. “I wish I could have time off to take Stiles somewhere.”
Melissa could see the guilt etched in his face. Reaching out she laid her hand on top of his looking him in the eyes, “You are a good father. You are doing everything you can for him.”
“I worry that he’s scared, but he won’t tell me what he is afraid of. Doesn’t being part of this,” he lowered his voice, “wolf thing, mean that we get to know about all the things that go bump in the night? I just wish he would talk to me. After those kids beat him up last year I almost had a heart attack. And now who knows what we’re facing.”
“Don’t joke about that,” she admonished. Melissa was well aware that Stiles constantly worried about his father’s heart and his blood pressure, hence always harping him about his diet.
“He needs an outlet. Something to take his mind off things. You know boys. They have to wear themselves out to get any peace of mind. Has he been exercising?”
The Sheriff felt a flash of guilt, they were supposed to go on a run together the yesterday but he had put the kibosh on that one. “I don’t think so.”
“Exercise is important, not just physically, but mentally and emotionally as well, it releases endorphins. Helps keep things in balance.”
“Maybe I should sign him up for a class? Or are they too old for that now?” he asked sheepishly second guessing himself.
“Well it’s not like you can sign him up for little league. And there isn’t any lacrosse training right now.” Melissa looked thoughtful, “What about something like a self defense class? There are all these websites online now, these companies have daily and weekly deals they promote, everything from fitness classes to flying lessons to discounted spa treatments. Maybe you could look for something on one of those sites.”
“Maybe,” he said unsure of himself.
“It could be like a gift.”
***
Melissa’s suggestion seemed like a good idea. Stiles needed to get out a bit. Move. Go be with normal people. As the Sheriff pulled open his covers and got into bed he couldn’t help but think of his wife. The holidays were always her favorite time of year. The shopping, the look of surprise on someone’s face as they opened a gift. She was the best gift giver. Each one was something unique to the person it was intended for, none of this gift card crap. She delighted in surprising Stiles. Her smile, etched in his memories, soothed him as he fell asleep at last.
***
The Sheriff woke around 2 p.m. Stiles wasn’t in his room. He was probably out with Scott. The Sheriff padded down into the kitchen heating up one of the pop tarts Stiles kept hidden in the pantry. When the toaster dinged he grabbed the hot pseudo pastry and walked into his home office. Bringing up a search for Groupon, he soon was creating an account. Wow, Melissa was right. They had everything on here. There were so many activities and restaurants offering deals and discounted goods. Too many things really. Which was when it hit him. Chanukah. That was it. He was going to bring back Chanukah. He looked up when it started. They hadn’t celebrated in years. But why not? Two days from now. Perfect timing. It would be just what they needed, a little extra holiday cheer. He started clicking away.
The whir of the printer started up as he printed out each one. Pulling open a drawer he found envelopes and sealed each one into a separate envelope. Well they certainly made shopping easier these days now that everything was online. This would be much better than the iTunes gift card he picked up for Stiles last Christmas. On his way to work he stopped at a CVS and bought some Chankuah candles. He wasn’t sure if they still had any left and it would be hard enough to find the menorah. He called Stiles from the car, making sure to use the bluetooth option.
“I want you to be home for dinner tomorrow night.”
“Okay. Why?”
The Sheriff stalled not wanted to ruin the surprise, “I want to have a talk, spend some family time together.” He could hear his son groaning from the other end of the line.
“Dad, we talked already.”
“Tomorrow night Stiles. No excuses.”
“Fine.”
***
Stiles flopped back onto Scott’s bed.
“What’s up?”
“My dad wants to have another ‘talk’,” Stiles muttered.
“Dude, he’s just worried. He talked to my mom about everything.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I think she helped calm him down.”
“Good, nothing like a little wisdom from Ms. McCall.”
“Yeah, I’m sure it will be fine.”
“I told him part of what happened.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well I told him that we did some spell or ritual thing to locate them, and that it had consequences. Which is about as much as we know at this point.” Stiles popped up and started pacing.
Scott threw a lacrosse ball up in the air and caught it as it came back down. “You didn’t tell him about the tubs did you?”
“Of course not. What was I suppose to say? ‘Oh by the way, we were also sort of maybe dead for 16 hours, no biggie?’”
“Yeah, I guess not,” he paused to throw the ball up again. “So Allison is leaving.”
“That’s what she said. It won’t be long now. I’m sure you guys will be back to making secret googly eyes at each other soon enough.”
“What if she meets someone over there?”
“Dude, it’s only a few weeks,” Stiles rolled his eyes, “besides you and she are destined, like the whole Romeo and Juliet thing.”
“I’ve seen the way she has been looking at Isaac,” Scott mumbled.
“Dude, snap out of it. Isaac is like a sad puppy dog that you want to pet, not bone.” Scott threw the lacrosse ball at Stiles and it bounced off his shoulder.
“Ouch! Take it easy!”
“Sorry.”
“I thought you and Isaac were cool?”
“We are. But I’ve seen the way he’s being looking at her, and the whole anchor thing…”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“What about you and Lydia?”
Stiles shrugged, “What about it?”
“Well you know, you’ve been into her forever. I thought maybe it was a sign.”
Stiles shook his head, “Naw. That ship has long past.”
Scott looked skeptically back at his best friend, “Since when?”
“Since we had that awkward kiss when I was having a panic attack. After that, the bubble sort of burst. Plus she clearly has a type and I’m not it. One hundred percent human,” he shoved his thumbs back at himself, “And I plan to stay that way. Relax about Allison. She will be training in France, getting even more badass like in some sort of awesome Angelina Jolie movie, she won’t have time to think about guys.”
“I guess so. My mom started to have the college talk with me.”
Stiles brightened up. “Oh yeah? How did that go?” He knew it was not one of Scott’s favorite subjects.
“She is happy that I improved my grades but she threw a curveball at me.”
“What do you mean?”
“She doesn’t think I have enough extracurriculars.”
Stiles spazzed out, “What?! You are captain of the lacrosse team!”
“She meant like volunteering.” “You volunteer at the animal clinic!”
“I think she meant helping people.”
“Like saving Beacon Hills on a regular basis doesn’t count as helping people?” he paused, “I guess I see her point though, can’t exactly write, ‘Stopped killer Darach from murdering more people’ on your brag sheet.”
“She wants us to go do Habitat for Humanity in Haiti.”
“What?! Dude that’s so random, but awesome.”
“We are leaving on Saturday.”
“Wow. You are actually going? Isn’t this kind of sudden?”
“I thought so too.”
“Wait. What is going to happen to Isaac while you are gone?”
“She wants him to come with us.”
“Really?”
“I think she has taken a liking to him. He is very polite. We’ll be gone for three weeks.”
“Too bad you can’t take Allison with you. She could put her French to some good use.”
***
The next evening the delicious smell of something frying hit him as he opened the front door. Stiles walked back to the kitchen noticing the table in the dining room was set for two.
“Dad what is going on? Are you cooking? Are you frying something?!”
Once in the kitchen he took in his father over a frying pan.
The Sheriff turned around, “Happy Chanukah!”
Stiles stepped up next to his father and saw the latkes frying in the pan and the words dried up in his throat.
“They are just from a mix. Applesauce and sour cream are in the fridge. I bought some brisket too.”
Chanukah? Tears welled up and he wiped his eyes quickly, “Dad. Why did you do this?” he cleared his throat realizing he may have sounded a bit rude, “I mean what brought this on?”
“I thought we could use an extra dose of holiday cheer this year,” he saw that Stiles looked upset.
“Hey,” he said putting the spatula down and putting a hand on his son’s shoulder, “I know it’s been a while. But we have to remember the good stuff too.”
Stiles nodded and cleared his throat, “Just give me a minute.”
Stiles went upstairs into his bathroom and splashed some cold water on his face. They hadn’t celebrated Chanukah in years. Not since his mom was still alive. She was sick their last Chanukah together but still managed to get Stiles all his presents and each night was a fun surprise. He thought back to how thin she was getting and the grayish hue to her skin. His breathing became shallow. When his breath hitched Stiles realized what was happening. Running his fingers through his hair he tried to breathe steadily. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. Though he tried to control his thoughts he kept thinking of her. The hospital. That night. Mrs. McCall sitting with him, wrapping her arms around him as he cried. Calling his father. STOP IT! It wasn’t always like that.
He thought back to previous years, when everything was simple. She was young and healthy and loved to play with him, no matter how much energy he had. She always helped him with his homework. He remembered her smile as she watched him open his presents. That was what he wanted to remember. How she made the best hot cocoa in the world and on Christmas morning she always had a cup ready and waiting for him before he tore into his presents under the tree. How she taught him how to light the candles each night and told him the story of how the oil lasted for eight nights. He remembered watching that Adam Sandler movie, “Eight Crazy Nights” and listening to the “Chanukah Rap” with her singing along. He blinked at himself in the mirror and noticed his breath was back to normal. He wiped his face on a towel and walked slowly back down the stairs.
The Sheriff was just setting down their plates.
“Looks good.”
“Don’t get too excited, I bought the brisket, the latkes are out of a box and the applesauce out of a jar.”
“I always liked the ones from the box,” he sat down across from his father, “Really dad, everything looks great.”
His father smiled at him and sat down, “Well tuck in.”
He took a few bites. It wasn’t bad. Nothing like homemade though. “So, surprise Chanukah huh?”
“Yeah.”
“You could have warned me.”
“It was sort of a recent idea.”
“Well I think it’s good,” he said slowly, “It’s a nice way to honor mom.”
“Her favorite part about the holidays was seeing you smile.”
“Well my favorite part was the presents and lighting the candles.”
They finished their meal and Stiles stood up to clear the plates. When he walked back into the dining room his father had set up their old menorah with two candles in it. He handed Stiles some matches.
“You go ahead.”
Stiles light the candle in the center and then used that candle to light the remaining one in the branch. They were silent for a moment.
“She would have loved this.”
His father laughed, “No, she would have made everything from scratch and had a ton of presents wrapped since September for you,” he shook his head, “but I do have this,” he handed Stiles a plain white envelope. “Go on, open it.”
Stiles stuck a finger under the flap of the sealed envelope and pulled out a piece of paper. Stiles looked at his dad confused.
“I got you a Groupon.”
“For what?”
“A defense class.”
“Defense?”
“It’s pretty seriously stuff Stiles, it’s what the Israeli Defense Force uses.”
Stiles read over the print out in his hands, “Krav Maga?”
“Yeah, I think that’s what it’s called. The Groupon is good until February but I thought it would be a good idea for you to use over the break. Get out of the house a bit. Get some exercise.”
Stiles did a double take. “Who are you and what have you done with my father?”
“Ha, ha,” he replied sarcastically. “It’s good for two so you can take a friend.”
“A friend?”
“It says the lesson is good for two people. See?” He pointed to the print out. “This is a private lesson for two,” he read aloud. “You can take Scott.”
“Scott is leaving for Haiti soon.
“Oh so Melissa decided to do it huh?”
“Yes. She told him that she wanted him to have something good to put on his brag sheet for college.”
“Well that is true. He doesn’t have the grades that you do. Well, what about Allison?”
“She is in France with her father.”
“Oh. I didn’t realize Chris was taking off for the holiday,” he paused, “What about that girl you like?”
“I like all my friends dad,” Stiles emphasized, “And she is in London. Visiting her sort of on-again-off-again boyfriend. And also hopefully doing some research on druids.”
They were silent for a few moments. The Sheriff ran a hand through his hair, “What about that kid, Greenberg?”
“No way!”
“Well I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
***
The Sheriff had really screwed up. Damn it, he thought to himself. Chaunkah was here and he thought it would be a great idea to get Stiles a bunch of activities to do over the holidays. He had not anticipated that all of his friends would be gone. He bought eight Groupons for each night of Chanukah. They didn’t usually celebrate except the vague “Happy Chanukah,” to each other. They barely managed to pull it together for Christmas some years. But after Claudia died, he just didn’t have the heart to do it. It was always her thing. Wrapping a ton of presents to spoil Stiles rotten. Letting him light the candles each night. He could still picture her face glowing in the candle light. And now here he had gone and decided to bring some extra holiday cheer to the Stilinski home this year, revive Chanukah. Now all of his gifts were going to be sort of useless. He supposed Stiles could enjoy them on his own. But once the Sheriff had discovered the ways of Groupon and Living Social he had gone a little wild. Thinking that he could help Stiles woo that girl he had gone on about for years, he bought some fun things for him to do with her. Now that was a bit presumptuous on his part, he admitted that now, but there was something about clicking all those buttons on the site. And there were so many fun things to do! Okay, okay, he could admit it now, he had gone a little overboard. Well it was certainly going to be an interesting holiday time. Maybe Stiles would make some new friends. New, non-supernatural friends. Not that he had anything against supernaturals per se, but the kid could use a bit of normalcy in his life.