Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

John woke to up the sound of heavy footsteps stumbling down the hall way. The cop’s mind sharpened immediately, grabbing his firearm from the locked safe he kept in his wardrobe and turned the safety off, raising the gun and slowly making his way out to where the footsteps were making their way down the stairs.

John had his finger on the trigger and his muscles tense but sighed in relief and lowered his weapon when he saw Stiles shuffling down their carpeted stairs.

“What are you doing kid, you scared the hell out of me.”

Stiles made no indication he had heard, despite his father’s voice having boomed out in the silence of the near empty house, turning to go into the living room instead.

The Sheriff tucked his gun into his waistband and followed his son, clicking on the lights as he went as Stiles walked through the dark.
When he caught up he stopped in confusion. Stiles was standing there, in his pajamas, writing on the living room wall with a sharpie. John raced forward to stop his son but noticed, as he got closer, that Stiles didn’t even know he was there. In fact Stiles wasn’t even looking at what he was writing, his eyes unfocused and staring at the wall as his hand clumsily wrote the words the Sheriff had been hearing more and more lately from his son.

Stiles’ hands moved quickly, rushed and frantic as they wrote the same thing over in over, the words overlapping and spreading out across the wallpaper.

Wake up.

John remembered Stiles sleep walking as a child, wandering around aimlessly through the house until he or Claudia put him back to bed. But this writing was new and Stiles had stopped sleep walking at age elven when they had started giving him Adderall. John knew you had to be careful when dealing with sleepwalkers and approached his son slowly.

“Stiles? Son, I need you to….”

He almost said the words written eerily on the wall but chose to opt for something different, not wanting to use the words that were obviously haunting his son.

“Come back to bed Stiles.”

The teenager didn’t react to the Sheriffs voice but instead write faster and began mumbling the same words he was writing.

John slowly reached out to grasp Stiles’ wrist, gently pulling the pen from his hand, keeping his guard up and hands ready in case the boy reacted violently as sleepwalkers often could.

The Sheriff tugged his son from the wall, turning him to face him instead, hands grasping thin shoulders feeling them tremble in the thin t-shirt covering them.

“Stiles? Come one son, come back to me.”

It was creepy seeing his usually lively boy with such an empty expression, hands now limp at his sides and eyes staring at nothing and so he was relieved when those brown eyes he loved so much started blinking, finally focusing on his face.

“Dad?” Stiles’ face was creased in confusion and he immediately started shrinking in on himself, subconsciously making himself smaller in his scared state. The poor kid had no idea why he would be waking up in the middle of their living room.

“It’s okay son, you were sleep walking, just wandering around like when you were little. Do you remember? I woke up to find you staring at me one time, it gave me one hell of a fright even your mom woke up when I screamed.”

He was trying so hard to keep eye contact with his boy, desperately wanting to hide the words on the wall from him but Stiles turned around anyway.

“What was I doin…..did I write that?”

John dropped his hands from his son’s shoulders and sighed, carefully watching the teenager’s reactions.

“Yeah, it’s alright we’ll get it cleaned off in the morning.”

Stiles was staring at the words, unmoving and John would almost think he was in his sleepwalking trance again but he could see his pale hands shaking at his sides.

The sheriff stepped in front of him, covering the words that his son was so obviously afraid of. If only he would tell him what was going on, he could help and even if he couldn’t he could be there for him.

“Come on kiddo let’s get you to bed okay?”

Stiles was still looking at the damn wall and he had tears in his eyes now so John turned his son towards the door and pushed him to the stairs.

Stiles was sniffing and when they got back to his room he bowed his head and started playing with his thin fingers. John realized he was counting them and watched in fascination and a little fear at this knew habit that he had seen several times that day already.

But it was late and decided to let it slide till morning when he could ask him about it and waited patiently for him to finish pretending not to watch. The sheriff went to the bed and started straightening out the sheets, pulling the covers down to let Stiles in when he heard a shaky voice.

“Dad, why do you have your gun out?” John turned around, realizing Stiles had seen the gun at his waistband.

“I heard you sleepwalking but didn’t know it was you. You gave me a fright that’s all and you know how jumpy I can get.”

The kid nodded and walked over to John and hesitantly wrapped his arms around his Dads neck, burying his face into him. John returned the hug and rubbed his sons back as Stiles took deep shaky breaths.

“Sorry I scared you. I love you Dad.”

“Love you too Kiddo. Now let’s get you into bed, you have school tomorrow.”

They released each other and Stiles crawled into his bed allowing his dad to pull the blankets over him and press a palm to his forehead as he pushed his hair back affectionately.

“Good night Stiles.”

John turned off the light and shut the door as he left, returning his gun back to the safe before getting into his own bed. He didn’t know what was up with Stiles but he decided he would keep an eye on the teenager and ask him about what was going on tomorrow.

Sighing in the quiet dark the Sheriff rolled over in his bed and hoped the words on the wall didn’t mean anything and knowing he wouldn’t know what to do if they did.

Chapter Text

John knew he should have been used to it by now, and he certainly had enough experience in dealing with it but Stiles’ impulsive behavior was unnerving.

When the boy was younger it was sweet, he would come home from school with flowers for Claudia, ones that he had taken from someone else’s garden but the thought was there. He made decisions based on emotion with no further thought of consequences.

As Stiles got older the behavior grew to be more problematic but had largely stopped when he started taking Adderall. John had once gone out in a panic to find his son in the middle of the night only to get a call from Melissa saying she had found him in Scott’s room, the both of them playing video games. Stiles just put no thought into why sneaking out at night was a bad idea for the twelve year old son of a cop.
And now, after years of those impulsive decisions being calmed, The Sheriff was back to searching for his son at one in the morning. He had come home from work at the station looking forward to getting some sleep and had gone in to check on Stiles only to find an empty bed.

The most worrying thing was that his phone was still on his bedside table. John had immediately called Scott asking if he knew where he was but the teenager had no clue. John was getting worried, thinking maybe his son had gone sleepwalking again.

“I just. We need to find him Scott it’s not safe.”

“I’ll get Isaac and we’ll go look for him. Don’t worry Sheriff we’ll find him.”

John hung up and started the car again, driving through the neighbourhood, and tried to keep his emotions in check. He had to keep calm to find his boy. And he would find him.

The father thought back on how reckless his son had been lately, sparing no forethought before diving head first into one of the packs plans, and it scared him. Stiles could get into some serious trouble and John still had no idea where he was.

Scrubbing his hand down his face and taking a deep breath the Sheriff trued to think rationally about where Stiles might have gone.
Although applying logic to this situation would hardly help him find Stiles since his son wouldn’t be thinking about his actions before he did them. The Sheriff quickly parked his car as he thought it through. Stiles would be making his decisions based on pure emotion and whatever thought followed so he figured maybe Scott would be able to sniff out what the kid was feeling when he left.

Quickly grabbing his phone, he dialed and tapped his fingers against his knee in anxious anticipation.

“Sheriff! Did you find him?”

“Not yet Scott but I was hoping you could get a read on what Stiles’ emotions were like when he left. I have a feeling he’s gone out on one of his impulse decisions and if so he’s chosen his destination purely on emotion.”

John waited for Scott to run to Stiles’ room, hearing his panting breath and heavy footfalls as he ran. They were lucky he was already close to the house so it didn’t long till he heard Scott and Isaac sniffing around the human’s room.

“It smells like….grief? I don’t know it’s sort of like nostalgia too.”

The Sheriff heard Isaac in the background say something about the scent of flowers and immediately knew where his son would be.

“Thank you Scott I’ll check a few places and call you if I find him. You boys should get to bed I don’t want to be the reason your failing school.”

“There are a tonne of reasons why I’m not doing great at school but they are all worth it.”

Scott wouldn’t be heading to bed until he knew his best friend was safe and they both knew that but said their goodbyes anyway so the Sheriff could keep driving.

John soon pulled up to the graveyard and saw where his son was sitting at the familiar gravestone.
The father sighed in relief at seeing him okay and tried to calm his emotions so he could talk to Stiles calmly.
Stiles didn’t seem to notice his father’s presence and kept talking as John approached.

“So then Scott laughed at me but Lydia and I closer than we used to be and she calls me like every day after school and if that’s not progress than I don’t know what is.”

Stiles finally turned around when a stick snapped under the Sheriffs heavy boot and the teenager smiled at his dad.

“Dad? What are you doing here, I thought you were at work? Well anyway I couldn’t sleep and I was thinking about Mom so I thought I’d come visit her and I brought flowers since the last ones were stolen again and….”

John interrupted and knelt down next to the rambling boy.

“Stiles it’s one O’clock in the morning.”

Thin shoulders shrugged as pale fingers fiddled with the flowers still in his lap.

“Yeah?”

“Stiles it’s dangerous. It’s dark and cold and you don’t even have your phone on you, what were you thinking?” The father draped his own sheriff’s jacket over his sons shaking shoulders, knowing that Stiles probably wouldn’t even notice how cold he was.

“I just missed Mom. I wanted to see her.”

The tired man sighed and sat down. He couldn’t get angry at Stiles when the boy didn’t even understand why he would be. It pained him though to see his son so confused.

“I was worried about you kid. But everything’s alright now.”

He wrapped an arm around the teenager’s shoulders and drew him in for a tight squeezed hug before standing up and pulling the boy up with him.

“Come on Stiles we need to go home now.”

Stiles scrunched his eyebrows down and frowned at his dad.

“I’m not finished talking to Mom. I don’t want to go home yet.”

The Sheriff sternly but gently took hold of the boys thin arm.

“It’s time to go home Stiles and as long as you tell me where you’re going first you can come back tomorrow. Say goodbye to Mom.”

The kid obviously didn’t understand why they had to leave but waved to the gravestone anyway, telling his Mom goodbye and that he loved her before following his Dad back to the car.

When The sheriff had settled Stiles in the car and buckled his seat belt for him, he got in but paused before starting the engine.

“Stiles do you understand why it’s not okay to go to a graveyard, or anywhere, at this time of night? Especially without telling anyone where you were going and forgetting your phone?”

The boy sat in his father’s too big jacket and said nothing, his slender fingers coming up to rub at his tired eyes instead.

“I didn’t mean to scare you Dad, I just wanted to see her. I miss her.”

John nodded and started the car.

“Me too bud and I know you didn’t mean to scare me but you have to tell me if you want to go out somewhere okay?”

“Kay.”

John knew that Stiles was still confused about everything and decided to just get him to bed and deal with everything else in the morning once they had both gotten some sleep.

Stiles was so tired now that John had to lead him up the stairs and help take his jacket and shoes off before tucking him into bed.
The father smoothed a hand over his son’s forehead and thanked the stars his boy was back. Once he had turned out the light and closed his son’s door the sheriff walked to his own room and called Scott to let him know Stiles had been found and was okay. The McCall kid sighed in relief and told John he would stop by to see Stiles the next day.

Once they had each hung up John got out his Sheriff’s notepad and looked sadly down at the small space of paper before writing down something he hoped would start and end the list he was creating.

- Impulsive.

He desperately hoped that this would be the only symptom his son would share with his mother but new that others were creeping up as well. He would have to talk to Stiles about it soon, Melissa too and there would be tests. There would be a diagnosis. John shook his head at how ahead of himself he was getting. It was one bullet point. One symptom. They would be fine.

Slipping the notepad into his bedside draw John toed his shoes off and crawled under the covers hoping that he would wake up to a healthy, safe son.

Chapter Text

John was keeping a close eye on his son after the last incident. It hurt to be so un-trusting of his son, they didn’t really have that much trust between them to start with, but to have to be so wary of his sons own sanity hurt The Sheriff so deeply. He needed someone to talk to about what was going on, someone to at least share this burden with him.

The only person he could really talk to about everything was Melissa but she had so much to deal with already what with her ex being in town.

With everything that was happening to Stiles and it all being so achingly familiar it was hard not to think of his wife every time he saw Stiles’ hands shake or eyes glaze over.

He had promised a trip to Claudia’s grave anyway and so packed Stiles into the car for a visit.

The car ride was a quiet one, Johns hands gripped tight on the wheel trying not to think about everything at once and cursing his overly full brain while Stiles watched the scenery pass by out the window.

The Sheriff didn’t know how much Stiles remembered about his mother’s symptoms or disease, he wasn’t even entirely sure how much Stiles registered about his own state of mind. Looking at his kid now he knew he didn’t want to cause any unnecessary stress but at some point they would have to talk about the possibilities of what was happening.

Shaking his head minutely the father reminded himself that there were only two symptoms on the list and both could be simply a coincidence in their closeness. Two’s a coincidence, threes a pattern.

John was watching the empty road in front of him when Stiles suddenly started yelling.

“Dad, watch out!”

Stiles was pointing to the road and grabbing the Jesus handles as he yelled and John still didn’t know what was happening.

“What? Stiles, there’s nothing there.”

But the kid was scrambling in his seat like they were gonna crash any second and finally started tugging on the steering wheel to make The Sheriff swerve on the road.

“Stiles stop! What the hell are you doing?!”

John thanked every deity he knew for the fact that the road was empty as he pumped the breaks in his swerving car; the vehicle drifting a little before coming to a wonky stop in the middle of the road.

“The woman, you almost hit her!” Stiles was starting to take off his seat belt and John tried to stop the kids flailing hands.

“Stiles, there was no one there. Stop and let me talk to you.”

But the kid was already opening the car door and jumping out. The Sheriff followed as quickly as he could but didn’t reach him before he disappeared into the trees of the woods.

“She’s in the woods, we have to find her!”

“Stiles stop!”

The teenager may have been moving fast but he was noisy and clumsy and The Sheriff caught up with him quickly. Stiles was still muttering about the woman in the white dress as he tripped over roots and John grabbed his arm in an attempt to make him stop.

“Just wait a minute kid, let’s talk about it for a minute.” The boy stopped only long enough to insist that they didn’t have much time before pulling his arm from his father’s grip and continuing on through the trees.

“Dad we have to find her she could be hurt.”

The Sheriff marched in front of his son and gripped his arms to hold him still long enough to get him to look him on the eye.

“Stiles she isn’t real, there’s no one there.”

One pale freckled nose scrunched up as the teenager shook his head.

“What are you talking about Dad, I saw her. She’s got brown hair and a white dress on but her feet were bare and you nearly hit her with the car.”

John forced the bitter tasting words through his mouth.

“You were hallucinating kid. There’s no one there.”

Stiles couldn’t understand what was happening. His mind had conjured the image of the woman and made him believe she was there and John knew it wouldn’t be easy to convince Stiles it was a hallucination. Stiles was getting angry at his father for not believing him and The Sheriff was getting more desperate for his son to understand.

Stiles roughly shook off his father’s hands and pushed past him to carry on through the forest. The Sheriff squeezed his hands into fists in frustration. His chest was tightening and he took a deep breath to calm his emotions. He wasn’t mad at Stiles, it wasn’t his fault, he was mad at the situation.

Because of course it had to be on the way to the cemetery to see his dead wife that he would realize his son would be buried there before he was.

Pushing his emotions down for now as he did at crime scenes and during police work he let his logical, practical mind take over. Following his son through the woods he walked fast enough to get in front of the kid.

Stiles tried pushing him away again but John simply wrapped his arms around his child and picked him up, walking away with him back to the car. With John’s arms around the kids waist and those sneakered shoes lifted off the ground Stiles could do nothing but watch the trees move past them as they retreated from the woods.

The teenager saw a glimpse of white in the woods as the woman weaved between trees but as she stopped and stared at him in the darkness he realized who it was.

When he was eight years old he had gone to visit his mother in the hospital only to find her missing from her room. He had panicked, thinking she had finally gone to heaven like Daddy said she would except she hadn’t said goodbye to him and he knew that she could never leave him without saying goodbye. And so, with small, panicked puffs of air, he had gone running through the halls of the hospital to find her.

He had heard her calling for him as he ran and had caught glimpses of her white hospital gown as she evaded him in the winding hallways. In his terrified eight year old mind she was running from him because she didn’t want him anymore and their game of chase turned into a nightmare that had haunted him for weeks as a child. His Dad had eventually found him after the nurses took his mother back to her room.

Tears ran down Stiles’ face as he watched the image of his mother disappear into the dark woods and he wrapped his arms around his dad as he was carried back to the car. He was cold now and he shivered as he tucked his face into The Sheriffs neck, not wanting to see those trees anymore.

“Daddy, I want to go home.”

John rubbed his kids back as Stiles shook in his arms and was relieved to finally see the car again. Settling Stiles into his seat he took off his jacket and draped it over his son’s shoulders, who gratefully gripped the material as John did up his seat-belt for him.

John got in his own seat and started the car but he could tell Stiles was scared and they would have to talk about what was happening eventually but for right now he just wanted to get him home.

Turning the car around, John started heading home, sending careful glances to his son every few moments. Stiles was looking out the window as silent tears ran down his face and dripped off his chin.

Neither could visit Claudia today, not when the symptoms of her fatal disease were becoming present in her son. John patted the boys shoulder and waited till he looked him in the eye before talking.

“It’ll be okay, I’m here. We’ll be home soon.”

Stiles nodded and sniffed, turning back to the window. The rest of the drive was in silence and Stiles got out of the car as soon as they arrived at home, going straight upstairs to his room.

John went to his own room and pulled out the notepad, adding the newest symptom.

Hallucinations.

There was something else in that drawer and he took it out though it was painful to look at it. It was a photo of Stiles first birthday. Claudia had a chubby baby Stiles on her lap and John was sitting behind her with his arms around the both of them.

This world was so hard without her in it, she had been his bright light in the darkness that police work often was and then Stiles had become his light. And now with all the new supernatural threats he knew that he could not live in this world without his son.

The Sheriff gripped the photograph of what his heaven would look like and cried for his lost wife and for his child.

Twos a coincidence, threes a pattern.

Chapter Text

Stiles stumbled in through the door and remembered to be quiet only after dropping his phone and seeing the screen blink alive with the time.

3 AM. Damn, Dad’s home.

Creeping through his dark house, the teenager prayed his father wouldn’t wake up and ask his usual million questions. Because while he loved him, being honest with his Dad was something that sounded good in theory but never really worked out in practice.

He couldn’t tell his Dad he had almost died every time he went out because while it was true there wasn’t any way that he could stop helping the pack and telling his Dad would lead to even more overprotective behavior that he couldn’t deal with right now. Or at any time.
Stiles pulled his heavy legs up the stairs, exhausted. All he wanted was a hot shower and his warm soft bed to crawl into.

God he was exhausted. His whole body felt weighed down and his muscles were wobbly with fatigue. He was just getting through his bedroom door when his Dad’s bedroom door opened from down the hall.

“Stiles? Did you just get in? I was gonna wait up for you but I must have fallen asleep. Are you okay?”

The teenager sighed and turned enough to see his Dad, in an old police sweatshirt and loose pajama pants, and leaned against the door frame.

“Yeah I’m okay Dad, just tired. And you don’t have to wait up for me, I don’t want you to worry.”

The Sheriff came down the hall to his son and dropped a heavy hand on the kids’ sagged shoulders.

“Yeah but I always do. I’m glad you’re okay son.”

Stiles looked at his father’s misty eyes, confused. What was he getting so emotional about?

“Umm, are you okay Dad?”

The Sheriff wiped his eyes and cleared is throat a little as he took his hand off his shoulder.

“Stiles, son, we should probably talk about what happened at the…”

He hesitated and Stiles knew he was talking about what happened on the drive to his mother’s grave. Stiles wasn’t entirely sure about what had happened but he knew he would rather forget the whole thing than talk about it with his dad.

“I’m really tired Dad, I was just gonna go to bed and I’m pretty sure you have work tomorrow so… whatever you want to talk about can wait till tomorrow right?”

His father hesitated again, looking down at his Sheriffs notebook that Stiles only just noticed in his hand.

“Yeah it…….it can wait. You get some sleep kid. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Stiles watched his Dad walk back to his own bedroom before sighing and flopping onto his beloved bed.

Whatever the hell that whole hallucination thing had been, was probably just another lovely side effect of being a human sacrifice. He hated worrying his Dad and whatever was in his Dad’s notebook was probably nothing to worry over, probably just some case he was working on. Right?

Stiles groaned into his pillow, letting out all the air in his chest before puffing in a breath and starting the groan again because he already had so much crap to deal with.

He would admit to having a few……weird things happen that some people may call incidents or episodes but whatever the sleepwalking, the hallucinations were probably just part of the being temporarily dead thing.

Scott and Allison had both been having hallucinations. Scott was having trouble controlling his shifts and Allison kept accidentally almost killing people so his problems, while terrifying and definitely progressing the loss of his mind, seemed small in comparison.

If only he could sleep than maybe he could deal with everything properly. Being so exhausted all the time made it hard to deal with emotions and pretty much any other human being. Plus his brain was all over the place, he couldn’t think straight or concentrate and he was so damn tired.

But every time he tried to sleep he couldn’t. He felt like he was standing at the top of a very tall cliff and it should be easy to fall right off, he wanted to just jump right down into sleep but for some reason he just couldn’t tip over that edge. Either his brain was too loud or he had too much to worry about not to feel guilty for sleeping.

Some nights, after he finally fell off that cliff into sleep, he would wake up before he hit the bottom and it would have only been a couple of hours. After waking up he was awake and sleep wouldn’t come again that night.

As exhausted as every cell he had was, sleep was a faraway dream to him. As unattainable as any hope for this town to be peaceful and monster free for just one night.

Stiles kicked off his shoes and got changed for bed before properly snuggling under the covers, praying for a good night’s sleep for once.
His eyes closed, his tired and tense muscles relaxed, his mind drifted.

And he was awake again. He wasn’t even really sure when he woke up he just slowly came to the realization that his eyes were open and he was not, in fact, sleeping.

Looking at the clock Stiles bit his lip and hoped it had been more than the twenty minutes it felt like.

Four thirty five. Well that’s more than twenty minutes but definitely doesn’t count as a win. But now his brain was awake and it was too loud and he knew he would not be sleeping again tonight. Although his brain was awake his muscles were still sore and tired and he was not moving from his bed.

He almost wanted to cry. All he wanted to do was sleep. His body needed sleep. He wanted to fucking sleep. He wanted to slip from this world and just stop being for a while. He wanted to stop worrying, to stop being scared, to stop thinking just for a few blessed hours.

He knew what excessive exhaustion did to a person and he knew what insomnia was. He was self-diagnosed and very aware that without sleep his body and mind wouldn’t be able to keep going. He was also aware that humans could last only eleven days without sleep. The record had apparently been set by a kid for his science project.

The ironic thing about insomnia is being able to research it while experiencing it. Another thing that Stiles knew was that when humans sleep our brains are cleared of a crust like substance that builds up during the day or whenever we are awake. Without sleep this crust isn’t cleared and it accumulates which is said to cause the lack of concentration, memory loss, confusion and other side effects.

Stiles new what his lack of sleep was doing to him, and what it would continue to do but nothing he was doing was working. He couldn’t sleep and it was all he wanted to do.

Sheriff’s POV

John knew he needed to talk to Stiles about his symptoms but he didn’t know where to even begin. The list was sitting heavy in his hand and in all his years of police work his notebook had never been heavier. Wiping a tired hand down his face the Sheriff climbed back into his bed and hoped Stiles would actually go to sleep and not sneak out for another pack mission.

John went to sleep only to be woken an hour or so later by a thump on the wall. Immediately jumping from his bed and sprinting to his sons room, The Sheriff hoped the kid wasn’t having a nightmare or another sleepwalking session.

When he got to his sons door however he paused, waiting behind the shut door because there were noises coming from inside. He heard a soft ‘dammit’ from Stiles and a few more thumps as his son presumably had a mini tantrum before the sound of a laptop starting up could be heard.

Peeking through the crack in the door The Sheriff watched as his son, wide awake but obviously still exhausted, called Scott. He listened guiltily to the one side of the conversation he could hear.

“Sorry man I just needed to know what that thing was that I was supposed to research.

Yeah I know but I can’t sleep.

Dude I tried I just woke up again.

No it’s fine, besides your mom’s busy enough. If I want to go to the doctor I will……. Which I don’t

Yeah okay, I’ll get it done.

Yeah I’ll try, don’t worry about it Scotty just get some sleep yourself. Bye”

John debated with himself weather he should go in and talk to the boy or not. Looking through the crack again he saw Stiles hang up and heave a weary sigh before starting in on the research. Backing up from the door John decided to talk to the kid later, as it was an ungodly hour and he had hardly gotten any sleep himself.

He knew Stiles didn’t like to worry him and he knew that the kid thought he hid everything better than he actually was. Going back to bed The Sheriff pulled the now hated notepad from the nightstand and added yet another symptom to stress over.

Insomnia

Chapter Text

Stiles used to love his bed. Those puffy pillows and big thick blankets used to look like heaven to him and it would be his absolute pleasure to sink into that well known mattress every night. Now his bed was a dreaded limbo where time didn’t pass and sleep never came.

Lying in that bed for hours every night, begging his mind to turn off and let him sleep, only left him sore and more tired than before. Those precious hours that he did sleep were so rare now that it felt as if he was cursed, because along with all the other shit he had to deal with, night terrors had to be added to the very long list of bullshit in his life.

The insomnia made him long for sleep but night terrors…… He felt like he never wanted to close his eyes again. Lying in his bed now, staring up at the ceiling and gripping his sheets tight in his fists, the boy let out a little whimper. He was so tired he was worried his body might shut down, eyes rolling back and body dropping to the floor empty of all consciousness, in the middle of class or whatever supernatural disaster they had to deal with next.

He was worried about Scott and Allison too. Scott couldn’t control his shifts and Stiles didn’t know how to help him, Scott hadn’t even let him. Stiles mind took him back in vivid, terrifying flashes, of his best friend burying his own claws into his hands in order to stay human. The roar that had come from him, the pain in his face, the thick trails of red that filled his palms and rolled down his arms. And then Stiles had watched as his alpha had sagged to the floor, panting and exhausted from his efforts to stay human, to be in control.

And then there was Allison. Being haunted by her dead aunt, having hallucinations and ending up in places and not knowing how she got there. Stiles and Allison had known each other for a long time now and together, had survived some scary ass crap, but her hands had never shook like they did now. It was constant and Stiles hadn’t missed it or the way she would put down her pen and sigh in frustration during class.

She was a hunter, but now she was a hunter that couldn’t use a bow and Stiles knew how much that hurt her. The worst was when she would black out and wake up just in time to see her almost kill someone. Stiles and Allison were friends. He knew that she was terrified. She had vowed to protect people, her pack, her friends. And now she had almost killed them.

Stiles hadn’t been there but had heard about what happened during the hunter and the banshee’s archery practice. He had given Isaac a heartfelt ‘thank you’ when he heard the beta had saved Lydia. Stiles was supposed to come up with solutions, he was supposed to help, but the human had never felt more useless.

These night terrors were suffocating and inescapable. When he wanted to sleep he couldn’t and when he wanted to wake up and end his stay in the hell in his mind he was trapped. It was maddening. He had told Scott he was having trouble telling what was real and what wasn’t. He couldn’t tell if he was awake or just trapped in another layer of a nightmare.

Last night had been a bad one. Waking up only to realize he’s still dreaming then waking up again and again. And being trapped in his own mind until he screamed and fought himself back into reality. Or what he hoped was reality. Last night he had struggled awake and found himself in his father’s arms, holding him against his chest and stopping him from thrashing around too much.

Stiles had clung to his father, listening to his soft reassurances and prayed he was awake for real this time.

“It’s okay Stiles. I got you. I’m here, you’re okay.”

His father held him and rocked slightly as his tears dripped onto his dad’s arms. He hadn’t been able to sleep again that night but his Dad stayed anyway, holding him for more than an hour before Stiles reassured him that he was okay.

“It’s fine Dad. You should get some sleep. I’m sorry I woke you.” Wiping down his wet face with his t-shirt he looked down at his hands, avoiding the worried eyes of his father.

“Stiles….”

And that tone. That apologetic, concern that he had caused. He hated making his dad worry. Finally raising his head, the boy spoke with as much confidence as he could muster.

“I’m okay. It was just a nightmare.”

His father nodded and left but they both knew it was more than a nightmare. Once his dad was gone Stiles counted his fingers. Ten. He sighed and sank back down into his mattress before counting his fingers again. He had to be sure because he was sure of almost nothing these days.

........................................

(The next night)

John sat at his kitchen table and looked guiltily at the cabinet he kept his lone bottle of scotch in. He knew Stiles hated it when he drank. He hated it when he drank. After a long, hard day at work he would often have a glass or two but when he really drank, those nights when his vision got so blurry he slept on the couch instead of risking the stairs, that’s when the guilt came.

Because when Claudia died and their house, his bed, was empty and every scent and piece of their home reminded him of her, it was the only thing that made him sleep. The long stretch of years between then and now had helped ease the pain of her absence but now….. John could not lose his whole family in one house. If he lost Stiles, his son, his everything, he would never be able to come back to this empty building.

Tears dripped onto his notepad as it lay open on the table and The Sheriff wiped his face quickly, not wanting to allow himself to dissolve into grief before anything was confirmed. Ever since Claudia, John had been worried about the possibility of Stiles inheriting the disease and once the kid had hit his teenage years the father had kept a close eye on anything that could look like a symptom.

It had been so good for a while, his son was healthy and safe and happy. The Sheriff shook his head sadly. His son didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve this. No parent should have to tell their kid that they were dying. No child should have such a short time on this earth.

The list sat in front of him and even looking at it made him feel sick. There was no denying it now. Those three scribbled symptoms, so small yet so devastatingly painful to look at, had confirmed all of his worst fears. Slowly, mournfully, John wrote yet another one down.

-Night terrors.

Gripping his head in his hands the Sheriff closed his eyes and resisted the urge to get a drink. There wasn’t any way to deny what was happening. If three’s a pattern what was four? A diagnosis? God, how could this be happening? It wasn’t fair.

Getting up from his seat The Sheriff was just about to go for the bottle in the cupboard when the screaming started from upstairs. The tired man’s heart sunk and he dropped his notebook as he ran up the stairs, tears blurring his eyes as he went. His son needed him and although every terrified scream broke his heart a little more, he would remain strong.

Chapter Text

Stiles had been on his way up to his room when his dad stopped him.

He looked nervous as he cleared his throat and gestured to the table.

"Stiles, can we sit? We need to talk.”

Usually those words, “we need to talk”, would make him nervous and mentally list off the many things he could be getting in trouble for. Now though he just felt tired.

Stiles sighed and sat at the table, The Sheriff sitting across from him. His father cleared his throat again and looked down at his clasped hands that were sitting on the table. Stiles watched with narrowed eyes. His dad looked like he was about to tell him bad news. His eyes were shining wet with the promise of tears.

Stiles waited till his dad said the words that had been caught in his throat. It was the same conversation he had been trying to have with him for the past few weeks but had always been avoided. Until now.

“Stiles, I’m not sure how much you remember about your Mothers disease but-“

“My mother’s dead.” Stiles’ voice cut through the cold air, striking his father like one of Allison’s knives.

There was no emotion in his voice. It wasn’t a secret, just an elephant that lived in their house, never to be mentioned.

John gasped, shocked at the coldness of his sons voice.

“I was there when she died.” He spoke like he was reciting a prayer from a page, a religion he wasn’t a part of. It was something sacred, just not to him.

John’s heart squeezed in his chest. Stiles had never talked about that night, save for the whispers that escaped in his sleep. He knew he had been there when Claudia…. But he’d never told him what happened. He almost didn’t want to know.

The house felt silent and small, as if this small pocket of the universe had been frozen so nothing would interrupt this moment. He fought the urge to hold his breath as Stiles started talking again.

“I was holding her hand. She was cold and I wanted to get her a blanket but didn’t want to come back to find her asleep.”

His eyes, more golden than brown, flickered up to The Sheriffs face as he continued, watching the tears form in his father’s eyes.

“She asked about you, she was crying. I think she felt herself falling asleep and she knew what was going to happen when she did. She told me to take care of you. She said we had to take care of each other.”

John blinked at those words. It suddenly made sense why Stiles was always intent on him being careful with his diet. It wasn’t just about not losing his father, it was about keeping his promise to his mother.

Stiles had a small smile on his face, a sad grimace that showed his teeth.

“I was just glad she knew who I was. She hadn’t let me near her in a while.” He looked up at John again.

“You remember. She yelled at me. But that night she told me she loved me more than the world and more than whatever world she was going to next.”

John’s tears fell, trailing down his cheeks and dropping to hit the table before he could catch them. Stiles looked at it and paused a moment before continuing.

“I asked her to stay.”

John let a sob escape him. It erupted from his chest and broke the quiet of the kitchen. Stiles paused again at the sound.

“I sat on her bed with her and we hugged. She was holding me so tight. She knew who I was, she wasn’t afraid of me I thought she was better. I didn’t want to let go until….I realized she had stopped hugging back. And she wasn’t breathing. She died holding me.”

The Sheriff could barely breathe as he thought about the love of his life, the one he had been looking forward to walking this earth with till they were old, dying without him. And about his son, so young when it happened, holding his mother as she died.
And now Stiles could go the same way.

It was almost too much for his heart to bear. He clutched a hand to his chest as the sharp pain of grief struck and caved a hole into his chest, into his heart, where Claudia lived. He couldn’t lose Stiles.

Stiles watched his father cry and frowned. He knew he should be sad, he was, he loved his mother and his father. But as he told the story, the one that had weighed his heart like an anchor tied to a drowning man, he found…..nothing. There was none of that agonizing sadness he knew his father was feeling and that he had once felt. There was no panic at the thought of dying the same way. Because though they hadn’t talked about it specifically, he knew his dad was worried he had the same disease.

He was hollow. Maybe he was already dead. He certainly felt dead. He should ask Scott about that. If he couldn’t tell by scent alone he could certainly tell by the sound of his beating heart. Or possible lack thereof.

Stiles circled a hand around his wrist, nimble fingers pressing against the pulse point just to be certain.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

He was almost confused at the steady beat of life. He didn’t feel alive. He didn’t even really feel like himself. It was strange, this feeling. Like he was an astronaut floating in space that had drifted too far from the spaceship. It was empty and slow and he could look at the ship but he wasn’t connected to it and didn’t know how to get back. That’s what he felt like, sitting there and watching as his father cried.

He felt like he was outside of his body, nothing more than a witness or bystander.

Stiles blinked and took a breath big enough to fill his lungs full, before letting it slowly out. He may not have felt like his arms would move if he told them too, like they weren’t his to control, but he knew he should comfort his father.

Standing up from his seat, the pale boy sat in the chair beside his dad, dragging it close enough to reach for the man while sitting down.
The Sheriff was crying heavily, all the years of not knowing about Claudia’s last moments spilling out at once, as Stiles sat beside him and tucked himself into his side. He wrapped his arms around his boy and tried not to think of the way Claudia’s arms never held as much Stiles as he did now. He squeezed his son and cried for his wife and for the child Stiles had been when he lost his mother. For not being there when she slipped away from them.

There was something wrong with their son, and weather it was the work of a thousand year old fox spirit or the disease that stole the mind of the woman he had loved more than anything, he would not leave his son and he would not let go.