I do not own Teen Wolf.

Just a little one shot here that came to me and wouldn't leave. I hope you enjoy it. I love me some Sheriff Stillinski...he's yummy! I went with the name John instead of Noah. I have a nephew and goat named Noah,lol.

My facebook name has been changed to Miste Potter, come find me.

Please leave a review and let me know what you think. Thanks!


Stiles chewed on his bottom lip and bounced his left leg anxiously up and down as he stared at the man in uniform standing at the front of his classroom. It was career day in his fourth grade class and Sheriff Stillinski was here to talk about being a cop. Officer Jones was supposed to give the talk, but at the last minute he got sick, so now the Sheriff was here.

Swallowing nervously, Stiles continued to stare wide eyed up at the sheriff. For the first time ever he wished that his seat was at the front of the classroom so he could be closer to the man, but because of his ADHD, his teacher had moved him to the back to keep him from disrupting the other students. He couldn't help how he was, it wasn't fair he was being punished for something he couldn't control.

Feeling a hand on his leg, Stiles looked to the kid sitting next to him. "What?" He asked, while still keeping one eye on the sheriff.

Scott gave his best friend's leg a gentle squeeze. "Stop with the leg, man, you're shaking the entire table and making me sea sick."

Blushing, Stiles immediately stilled his leg. "M'sorry." He mumbled.

Scott smiled softly and bumped his shoulder against his friend's. "Hey, don't worry about it. What's with you today? You're more anxious than normal."

Stiles opened his mouth to answer, but froze when he felt an ominous presence behind him. "Mr. McCall, Mr. Dixon, do you have a question for Sheriff Stillinski?"

Dropping his shoulders in shame and embarrassment, Stiles shook his head at his teacher. "No, sir. Sorry."

"Then I advise for you two to stop talking or else I will have to send you to the office."

"Please no." Stiles whimpered, his eyes seeking and landing on the Sheriff. He couldn't leave, not now, not after he finally found him.

"Eyes and ears on the front then." The teacher scolded impatiently.

Stiles shrugged Scott' hand off his knee and focused all his attention on the Sheriff. His heart started racing when he saw that the man was staring at him with intense, blue eyes. Eyes that looked incredibly sad and weary. Why was the sheriff so sad? Was it because of him?


Sheriff John Stillinski couldn't take his eyes off the boy at the back of the classroom. This was why he didn't want to come here today, it was just too damn painful for him. His little Mieczyslaw would be the same age as these kids, and it hurt looking at them...especially the talkative, hyper boy in the back.

When he pictured what his son would look like today, that little boy in the back was what he pictured, with his shaggy brown hair falling into deep, brown eyes, his face peppered with moles, and eyes lit up with eager excitement. Being here, and looking at that boy, was tearing his heart out.

Mieczyslaw, his baby boy, had been his entire world from the minute his wife had told him that she was pregnant. He had always wanted to be a daddy, and those nine months awaiting his arrival had been the longest, most brutal, nine months of his life. Every second that he could he would hold his wife's belly and talk to his baby, thrilling in each little movement. The day Mieczyslaw came into the world had been the best day of his life.

Claudia, his wife, didn't want to know their baby's gender before birth, and while he would have been equally happy with a daughter, he had secretly prayed for a son. Mieczyslaw came into the world screaming at the top of his lungs, and that screaming didn't stop as he grew. Mischief, as his wife fondly nicknamed their son, was always letting you know when he needed something...day or night.

Mischief, had been an incredibly hyper child. At the age of eight months he had taught himself how to bounce in his crib while holding onto the bars. And bounce he did...all the time. He use to worry that all that bouncing would injure his son's neck or his brain, but his wife had reassured him countless times that he was fine. She said their son wouldn't be bouncing like that if it hurt him. He didn't even know that babies that young could do stuff like that.

Talking was another thing he started at a very young age. Once he started, he never stopped. Half the times he had no idea what his son was saying, but he would smile and nod his head anyway. Mischief would sit on his lap and talk, more like babble, his ear off for hours...and he loved every second of it.

And then one day his little Mischief was just gone. His last memory of his baby boy was when he snuck into his room at 5am to kiss his sleep flushed cheek goodbye before going to work. Mischief had been laying on his tummy suckling away on his middle and ring finger with his favorite stuffed wolf tucked under his arm. He could even remember what Mischief had been sleeping in, it had been his favorite Batman pajamas. He still had those pajamas up in his room tucked safely away in a fireproof lock box with a few other items that were Mischief's favorites.

Mischief had been two months shy of his third birthday when he had been taken away from him. He left for work that morning like every other morning. After kissing his son, he double checked that his wife was comfortable and that the nurse he had hired to look after both his wife and son had everything that she needed for the day. During her pregnancy, Claudia had been diagnosed with frontotemporal dementia, and her mental state was quickly deteriorating. Most days anymore she didn't even know who he was. Once he made sure everything was in order, he left for work, confident that his son and wife would be well looked after.

Before hiring the nurse, he had did a thorough background check on her. He was a cop after all, he knew the dangers of hiring just anyone off the street with a few references. This woman was going to be responsible for not only his wife, but also his sweet little boy...his entire world. She came highly recommended from the hospital, and had no criminal history whatsoever, so he had trusted her to look after the two most important people in his life.

When he returned home that evening, the first thing he noticed was his wife sitting on the kitchen floor, still in her nightgown, munching on a box of donuts. Judging by the mess, both on the floor and on her face, she had been sitting there for a while eating. Thinking that the nurse was busy bathing Mischief, he helped Claudia up, cleaned her face, then settled her on the kitchen chair. It seemed his wife was having a bad day, a day where she was more like a toddler than the beautiful, smart, high spirited woman he had married. After kissing her on her head, he took the stairs two at a time to check on his son.

Immediately he knew that there was something wrong, the upstairs felt too empty, too quiet. Sprinting to his son's room, he not only found it empty of his baby, but the dresser drawers were wide open and empty. Blood running cold, he rushed to the crib and tossed the blanket aside, even though he knew that he wouldn't find Mischief.

It only took him seconds to tear through the entire house and then to call the station to report his son kidnapped. The panic he felt had been so great that he literally thought that he was dying. His son, his world, was missing.

The entire station, even cops off duty, reported in to help find Mischief, and most worked around the clock for weeks, but they could find nothing on him or the nurse that kidnapped him. Even at the darkest of times he never gave up hope, to this day he was still looking for his baby boy, following up on the tiniest of leads. Every police station in America had a picture of his son from when he was a baby, and one created by an age progression specialist to show what he would look like today, almost six years later. Even though it had been over six years, he still believed that Mieczyslaw was alive.


Stiles really wasn't listening to what Sheriff Stillinski was saying, if quizzed he would fail miserably, he was just staring at the man, taking in every little detail. His heart in his chest was pounding so hard that he could literally see it beating through his well worn and old, Mario Brothers t-shirt. There was a tingling, a prickling under his skin, and he felt both hot and cold at the same time. Everything in him was screaming at him to grab onto the sheriff and never let go, but the man would think that he was crazy if he did. A lot of people thought he was crazy, that was why he had no friends. Except for Scott. Scott was his bestest, best friend in the entire world.

Stiles was shocked out of thoughts when his teacher clapped his hands. "Alright, class, are there any questions for Sheriff Stillinski?"

Stiles' hand shot up in the air before he even thought up a question. It was like his arm had a mind of its own.

Sighing, the teacher pointed to Stiles. "Stiles, do you have a question for the Sheriff."

Stiles felt like a deer caught in the headlights. The Sheriff was staring right at him again. "Uhm...I...I..." Feeling sweat beading on his forehead, Stiles dropped his head in shame. He so badly wanted to talk to the Sheriff, but he didn't know what to say.

Sighing again, the teacher shook his head in exasperation. "Does anyone else have a question?"

Stiles could feel his eyes filling with tears. He desperately wanted to talk to the Sheriff, he needed to talk to him, he just didn't know what to say.

John wetted his lips, his mouth suddenly going dry. Why did he feel so drawn to that kid? There were twenty other kids in the classroom, but he couldn't take his eyes off the boy in the back. The boy was wearing a well worn, stained shirt that was a size too small for him, and jeans that had seen better days, and there was a suspicious bruise on his left temple, but that wasn't what was drawing his attention...it was the boy's eyes. Eyes that painfully reminded him of Mischief's eyes.

"Class, everyone please thank the sheriff for coming in today, after all, he is a very busy man."

John cringed slightly when twenty voices screamed "thank you" at him at the same time. Only twenty voices though. The boy in the back had his head down with his shoulders slightly trembling. Was he crying? Why did he want to rush over and comfort him?

"Alright, class, line up and walk quietly to the playground while I talk a minute to the Sheriff."


Frowning, Scott tugged on his best friend's arm. "Come on, Stiles, all the good swings are going to be taken if we don't hurry. Today I'm going to do it. I'm going to swing all the way around the bar."

Quickly wiping his eyes, Stiles got to his feet, throwing a longing glance back at the sheriff. For once he didn't want to go outside and play, he wanted to stay right here with the sheriff. Sniffling a few more times, he followed his best friend out the door.

John had to literally bite his tongue to keep from calling the young boy back. He didn't want him to go, it didn't feel right.

"Thanks for coming today, Sheriff." The teacher said, holding his hand out to shake.

John reluctantly took his eyes off the boy to shake the teacher's hand. "It was no problem." He reassured. "You have a good class. All the kids are very well behaved."

"Well, I don't know about that." The teacher chuckled. "Stiles Dixon and his side-kick, Scott McCall can be a real handful. Those two are trouble with a capital T."

"McCall." John said thoughtfully. "As in Nurse Melissa McCall?"

The teacher chuckled. "The one and only. Scott is a good kid, but when he's with Stiles, those two are holy terrors,"

"And Stiles?" John asked with a frown. It almost sounded like the teacher didn't like the boy, and for some reason that really pissed him off.

"Excuse me?" The teacher asked.

"Is Stiles a good kid?" John clarified shortly.

Grimacing, the teacher rubbed at the back of his neck. "Don't get me wrong, Stiles isn't a bad kid per se, he just has some issues. The kid is extremely ADHD and his father won't put him on medication. Keeping him focused and from constantly interrupting the class is a never ending job for me. His first grade teacher said he was one of her best students when he was on Adderall, but when his mother died his father took him off the pills. The kid is damn near a genius, the smartest in the entire fourth grade, but his name should have been Mischief instead of Stiles. The things that boy gets into!"

John felt as though he had the oxygen punched out of him when the teacher said the boy's name should be Mischief. He should have just stayed home today, everything about the day has been one great big, painful reminder of what was stolen from him. "Can't the school nurse talk to his father about putting him back on Adderall?" What father wouldn't want to do what was best for their son?

"She has, multiple times, but Bo Dixon doesn't want to hear it. The man isn't exactly on the friendly side."

John knew Bo Dixon, had actually arrested him three times, once for drunk driving, and twice for starting bar fights. The man was a racist jerk who didn't deserve a son like Stiles. He didn't even know the man had a son. "Yeah, Dixon is a real piece of work. Well, I have to get back to the station."


Stiles kept peeking around the corner hoping to see the sheriff. What was taking him so long? He told Scott that he was only going to run to the bathroom real quick, but it had already been ten minutes. He just wanted to see see the sheriff again, maybe even say hi to him. If he didn't hurry then he was going to end up missing him, he didn't want Scott to worry.

Hearing his classroom door open, he ducked back around the corner, slamming his head rather painfully on the wall. With both his heart and head now pounding, he squeezed his eyes shut tight before saying a prayer. He just wanted to say hi to the Sheriff. Taking a deep breath, he stepped around the corner, and right into the sheriff's legs.

John quickly reached out and grabbed the boy's shoulders to steady him. The kid hadn't hit his legs hard, but it was enough to knock him on his ass if he hadn't caught him. Years of being a cop kept his reflexes quick. "Whoa there, cowboy, where's the fire?"

Gulping, Stiles slowly looked up at the Sheriff. The sheriff hadn't looked so big and intimidating while in his classroom.

John could literally feel his heart shattering. It wasn't fair! What demon would give this boy his son's eyes. With a large lump in his throat, John reluctantly released the boy's bony shoulders. Too bony, he filed away.

"Stiles, right?"

Stiles' eyes widened. "How...how do you know my name?" Did the sheriff know who he was?

John chuckled, his eyes drinking in the boy. "I heard your teacher call you Stiles, remember?"

Stiles' shoulders slumped. Of course, how could he forget...stupid Mr. Baxter and him always picking on him. "H-Hi!" He finally choked out, his head tilted back so he could see the man. He was on the short side for a nine year old, almost ten, and stupid Jackson was always picking on him for it. It wasn't his fault he was the shortest boy in the classroom.

John had to clench his fist to keep from reaching out and caressing the boy's cheek. What the hell was wrong with him? This wasn't his Mischief? There was no way his Mischief still lived his town.

"Hi, back at you." John said, inclining his head. "That's one heck of a bruise you got there on your left temple. Mind telling me how you got It?"

Stiles cupped his temple and took two steps back. "I-I fell...out of my bed." He quickly added.

John's eyes narrowed. That had to be the most unconvincing lie he ever heard. "Fell on a toy, did you?"

Stiles quickly nodded his head. "Yeah...yeah...I fell on a toy, sir. My dad says I'm the clumsiest kid on the plant."

John didn't buy if for one second, unfortunately there was nothing he could do about it. Just because Bo Dixon was a bully, didn't mean that he beat up on his kid. Maybe he would have a talk with Nurse McCall, there was a chance she suspected something since her boys were so close. "Maybe if you kept your room clean you wouldn't get bruised on your toys."

Stiles grinned. "Yeah, but cleaning your room is no fun. I would much rather play video games with Scott, my very best friend in the whole big world, or read comic books. I love Batman, he's my favorite."

John just wanted the ground to open up and swallow him already. Closing his eyes, he could vividly see the last time he saw his Mischief, sound asleep in his favorite Batman pajamas. His boy loved Batman. Why was he being punished like this?

"Are you alright, Mr. Sheriff Sir?" Stiles asked softly. All of a sudden the sheriff looked like he was going to pass out. He knew what that looked like, his dad passed out all the time when drinking.

John couldn't stop himself from reaching out and patting the boy on the head. "I'm fine, son." He said around the lump in his throat. "Stiles, I have to go now, but if you ever need anything, anything at all, you can call the station and ask for me, or even come in person. Ok, son!"

Stiles' face broke out in a huge grin. "Really? I can come and see you again? I won't be a bother will I? My dad says I'm always a bother."

John face darkened. "No, son, you won't be a bother at all. If you need help, or even just someone to talk to or help you with your homework, you come find me."

Stiles' threw himself at the sheriff, his skinny arms wrapping around the man's waist. "I can't wait to see you again, Sheriff."

A few tears slipped past John eyes. It was so easy to pretend that this boy, this perfectly beautiful with a heart of gold boy, was his little Mischief. Sniffling, he stepped around the boy and headed quickly for his squad car. He needed to break down and he didn't want to do it in front of the boy.


"Mom, I'm home!" Scott yelled as he burst through the front door, flinging his shiny blue backpack onto the couch.

"Momma McCall, I'm home too!" Stiles yelled after Scott, his old, beat up, red backpack following his friend's.

Melissa McCall stepped out of the kitchen, a grin on her face and a plate full of sandwiches in her hand. When spotting the fresh bruise on Stiles' face, her grin fell. "Walk into a door again, Stiles'?"

"Nope!" Stiles' grinned as he grabbed a sandwich. "Fell out of bed and onto a toy."

Melissa shook her head at the obvious lie. Bo hadn't bought his son a toy since his wife passed two years ago. "Do you need me to look at it?"

Stiles quickly shook his head no. "Nah, momma, I'm good. It's just a little bruise."

Melissa frowned. She knew if she went searching she would probably find more bruises. "If you say so, Stiles. Boys, eat your snack then get homework going, I have to get ready for work."

Scott happily grabbed the plate from his mom. "Come on, mom, it's Friday, why do we have to do homework now? Stiles' and I have the whole weekend planned. We're going to have so much fun."

With a heavy sigh, Melissa pursed her lips as she prepared herself to deliver bad news. She hated disappointing the boys. Originally Stiles was supposed to spend the weekend with them, but Bo called earlier and said he wanted his son home. She hated Bo Dixon with a passion. "Sorry, guys, your dad called earlier, Stiles, he needs you home this weekend. He'll be here at eight to pick you up."

Melissa didn't miss how the sandwich in Stiles' hand started shaking. She had loved Stiles' mother, Allison, they had practically been sisters, but her husband Bo was a nasty piece of work. When alive, Allison had managed to keep Bo in check, the man had adored her and would have done anything for her, but ever since her passing, Bo Dixon had become a mean and abusive drunk. She tried reporting him once a year ago when she found a couple bruises on Stiles's back and handprint bruises around his upper arms, but child services didn't do anything, not with Stiles' swearing that an older kid on the bus had done it. She was stuck between a rock, and a hard place. She wanted to confront Bo, to report him again, but she didn't want to risk Bo keeping Stiles from her. She loved that boy as much as she loved her own son.

Stiles placed his sandwich back on the plate, no longer feeling hungry. If anything, he was now feeling sick he his stomach. "Did...did he say why he wanted me home?"

"I'm sorry, Stiles." Melissa sighed. "He just said he would be by later to pick you up. Maybe he'll let you come back tomorrow."

Stiles sadly nodded his head. His dad wouldn't, he was going to be stuck with the man all weekend. He probably had a list of chores as long as his arm for him to do while he drank himself into unconsciousness and did drugs. He just hoped he wouldn't get beat for anything, he was still hurting from his last encounter with the belt.

Scott reached out and took his best friend's hand and gave it a squeeze. "Come on, let's play some video games and forget about your dad for now." Sandwiches forgotten, both boys retreated forlornly up the stairs to Scott's room.


Stiles flopped onto Scott's bed as his friend set the game system up. He had so been looking forward to this weekend. He looked forward to anytime spent away from his dad. His dad use to be pretty cool and fun, until his mom died. They were never really close, not like other fathers and sons, but the man had never really yelled at or hit him when his mom was still alive.

His missed his mom. Not a day went by that he didn't think about her and wish that she was still around. She use to give the best hugs and lay in bed with him caressing his head and playing with his hair until he fell asleep. She also use to sing to him, she had a beautiful voice.

His mom, unlike his dad, understood him, she got him. When he was diagnosed with ADHD, he remembered her smiling at him and kissing him on the cheek and telling him that is was going to be ok. She made sure that he ate the right foods, because some foods made him even more hyper, and she made sure that he always took his Adderall.

He always tried to do his best for his mom, but there were times, even while on meds, where his ADHD was just too much for him. Those times were more frequent than not. His mom never got mad at him. Sometimes she would take him outside to let him run off some excess energy, she would play games with him that helped him with his focus, taught him fun ways to remember things in school, like making rhymes or songs about what he was learning, his mom had been the best. Momma McCall was a good mom and he loved her with all his heart, but his momma had been the best, of the best, of the best.

As far as he was concerned, his life had been perfect. Well, as perfect as a seven year old's life could be...and then his world had come crashing down in a single night. His mom, while driving home from a shopping trip, had gotten in a car crash and died.

He remembered the moment his dad and him had found out as if it had only happened yesterday. He had been on the couch watching cartoons, almost asleep, when a cop knocked on their door. It had been the first time he had seen his dad cry. It had also been the last time his dad hugged him or said a kind word to him.

Now, his dad would rather backhand him than look at him. He was always yelling at him and hitting him, and he tried his hardest to stay out of the man's way. Unfortunately he didn't need to be in the way or do something bad to get his ass beat. His dad hit him most of the times just because he was there.

His dad also loved to tell him how much of a worthless spaz he was and how his mom's death was his fault because she had been buying food for him. He didn't understand that, the food she bought was always for everyone. His dad blamed him though, that's why he liked to withhold food from him. He said it was his punishment for getting his mother killed. If it wasn't for momma McCall, he would go days without eating.

Stiles knew it wasn't right, but he hated his dad. He hated him so much that he wished it had been him who had died in the car crash instead of his mom. Scott would sometimes say that he hated his dad, but deep down he knew that Scott didn't. Scott loved his dad, he was just mad at him for leaving. Well, he truly hated his dad.

It wasn't like he was his real dad anyway.

Scott snapped his fingers in front of his friend's face. "Hey, space man, you in there?"

Giggling, Stiles smacked Scott's hand away. "Don't be silly, of course I'm here, I'm just waiting for you, Mr. Slowpoke, to get the game ready."

Scotty fell dramatically onto his bed, almost bouncing his smaller friend off of it. "So what was up with you today? You were acting odd...well, odder than normal anyway. Why were you all weird with Sheriff Belinski.

Facing lighting up, Stiles sat up, tucking his stained socked feet under him. "Stillinski, Sheriff John Stillinski." He corrected. "And he's my dad."

Scott rolled over onto his back and frowned up at his best friend. "Your dad? But Bo is your dad. How can Sheriff Bel...Stillinski." He quickly corrected, "be your dad when Bo is your dad."

"Butt-Munch-Bo is not my dad." Stiles spat. "Did you forget that I'm adopted?"

"Oh, right." Scott said sheepishly. "But how do you know the Sheriff is your real dad? Did your mom tell you?"

Stiles shook his head then rubbed at his chest right above his heart. "I know it in here. Sheriff Stillinski in my real dad."

Scott sat up and leaned against his friend. Him and Stiles had been best friends since as far back as he could remember. He knew the last few years, ever since his mom's death, had been pretty hard on him, and he knew that Stiles' father wasn't a nice man, but it didn't make sense that the sheriff was his dad. He didn't want Stiles to get his hopes up only to be crushed when he found out he wasn't. "You can't tell that someone is your dad just by looking at them."

"I can." Stiles said with conviction. "Remember when I knew something bad was going to happen to you when you went to visit your grandmother and you ended up breaking you leg? How about when you had to have you appendix out? I told you all day long that there was something wrong with your stomach and that you needed to go to the hospital. Sometimes I just know things, and I know that Sheriff Stillinski is my real dad."

Scott couldn't argue that, Stiles did have a weird way of knowing things and he was very seldom wrong. "Ok, if the sheriff is your real dad, why did he give you up?"

Stiles chewed harshly on his lips as he thought. He didn't feel that the sheriff gave him up because he didn't want him, or because he didn't want to be a dad, he felt that there was another reason. "Well, my dad's a cop, right? Maybe a bad guy he pissed off took me to get back at him. Or, maybe he had to give me up to keep me safe from some bad people. I don't know why he gave me up, but he's going to save me from Bo, I just know it.

With tears falling from her eyes, Melissa stepped away from her son's door. She wished that Stiles was the sheriff's kid, the both of them needed someone to love, but Alice had adopted Stiles in Texas where her sister-in-law had worked for a private adoption agency. Stiles biological father had been a soldier who had died while fighting overseas, and his biological mother had died from cancer a year and a half later. Stiles had only been three years old at the time and there had been no other family to take him in.

This was breaking her heart. Poor Stiles was going to be devastated when he learned that the sheriff wasn't his father.


Rubbing her eyes, Melissa looked up from behind the desk, grinning when she spotted Sheriff Stillinski walking towards her. She had only been at work for three hours, but it already felt like ten. She was having a hard to getting what Stiles said out of her head and seeing the sheriff brought it all back again.

"Sheriff Stillinski, good evening." Melissa greeted warmly. She knew the sheriff well, she had been one of his wife's nurses after she got admitted, she had even been with the woman when she passed. The sheriff had a rough and devasting few years, first with his wife being diagnosed with an incurable disease, then the kidnapping of his only child, and finally the passing of his wife, her heart went out to the man. Despite all his suffering, he was a kind and compassionate man and damn good cop.

"Nurse McCall, how many times do I have to tell you to call me John?" John grinned.

"As many times as I have to tell you that when wearing that uniform, I will address you as Sheriff Stillinski...Sheriff. Now, what brings you to my neck of the woods. You're not accompanied by your normal drunk in need of his head stitched."

"Fair enough." John chuckled. "Anyway, I'm here on more of a personal matter, though it may turn professional."

Melissa automatically thought of Stiles, though why would John question her about him? "Alright." She said as she walked around the desk. "Lets go to the break room."

John followed the nurse trying not to get lost in thoughts of his son. All day, ever since he talked to the students and met Stiles, all he had been able to do was think about Mischief. He also hadn't been able to get his mind off Stiles and his concern for his home life.

"I heard you were quite the hit at the elementary school today." Melissa said as she entered the break room and headed straight for the coffee pot. Overnights were exhausting.

"That's actually why I'm here." John said getting straight to the point. "I'm here to question you about your son's young friend, Stiles Dixon."

Frowning, Melissa offered the sheriff some coffee then took a seat. "What would you like to know about Stiles."

"Have you known him long?"

Melissa nodded her head. "I first met Stiles and his mother when she brought him here to be tested for ADHD. It was right before the start of pre k. Allison and I became close friends, and Stiles and my son have been inseparable ever since."

"And he lives only with his father, his mother has passed?"

"John." Melissa sighed sadly, "I'm surprised, yet not, that you don't remember Allison Dixon. She died in a car crash...the same night as Claudia died."

Paling, John slid into a seat across from Melissa. Closing his eyes, he thought back to that dreadful night. "It was her, how could I forget?"


"I...I couldn't leave her, even when she told me if I wanted to be with her I needed to leave. I knew she was talking about my Claudia, but I couldn't just let her die alone. I was first on the scene, backup and emergency crews hadn't arrived yet."

Melissa reached across the table and took the sheriff's hand. She gave it warm squeeze when she felt that it was trembling. "John, Claudia didn't know you weren't there, she never woke up. She passed peacefully in her sleep. Claudia, before her sickness, was an amazingly compassionate woman, she would have wanted you to stay with Allison."

John jerkily nodded his head. He knew Melissa was right, Claudia had been in a coma for four days before her passing, but he would never forgive himself for not being at her side, holding her hand, as she left this world. Claudia had been the love of his life.

"Allison was a beautiful woman." Melissa smiled wistfully. "She was incredibly devoted to Stiles. She was the type of mother that we all dream about being when we first find out we're pregnant, but never quite live up to. Stiles was her entire world."

Melissa wiped away a stray tear. "Her death almost killed Stiles. He stopped eating, drinking, and talking for almost two months. He was close to being hospitalized because he was losing too much weight. Scott was finally able to get through to him, those two boys are more like brothers than friends."

"And Bo, is he a good father? I don't want to jump to conclusions, but the bruise on Stiles' face and what the boys' teacher told me, didn't exactly paint a pretty picture."

Sighing, Melissa leaned back in her chair. "Is this off the record?"

"For now."

"I can't lose Stiles." Melissa exclaimed. "I can't have Bo keeping him from me if he thinks I'm talking to the cops, or him running with him. I love that boy like he's my own."

"Nothing you say will leave this room." John quickly reassured.

Melissa relaxed, she trusted John Stillinski. "Bo Dixon is an ass. I don't think he ever loved that boy, or even liked him for that matter. He tolerated Stiles when Allison was alive and was somewhat fatherly towards him, but he was never caring or participated in raising him.

That bruise on Stiles' face, it's not his first. I did anonymously report him once, but Stiles denied any abuse. I'm scared to keep reporting him in fear he will eventually figure out it's me and then forbid me from seeing Stiles. At least right now I can keep an eye on Stiles and be there for him if he needs me. I also don't think Bo feeds him much. Stiles' is so skinny despite damn near eating me out of house and home every time he's over."

John was seething. If there was one thing that could really push him over the edge, it was child abusers. Here these people were, neglecting and beating on their children, when there were people out there desperate to be loving parents. Or like him, people who had lost their children through kidnapping or death, who would sell their soul to the devil for more time with their children. He would gladly rot eternity in hell to be able to be with Mischief again. He would sell his soul now just to find out what happened to his baby. Was he alive? Was he happy? He just needed to know.

"John." Melissa called, using the sheriff's first name. She could tell that what she had said had greatly upset him. "I don't know if I should say anything, I don't want to open old wounds, but I'm afraid if I don't say something it's going to hurt you worse if you aren't warned. Stiles is a very stubborn boy and once he gets his little mind set on something there's no stopping him."

Melissa took a deep breath preparing herself. She knew any mention of the sheriff's son upset him. "I overheard Stiles and my son talking, and he has convinced himself that you're his biological father."

John almost fell out of his chair. Heart racing, he shook his head. "How? What? Why would he think that? I... My Mischief... Why would he think that, he has a father?"

"Allison and Bo adopted Stiles when he was three. Bo's sister worked for a private adoption agency and set everything up after Stiles' mother passed. Allison wasn unable to have children, but was desperate to be a mother. She had been on a waiting list to adopt a baby for years."

John got to his feet and started pacing, his insides quivering. "Mischief was just shy of his third birthday when he was kidnapped. Does Stiles know about my son? Why would he think that he's my Mischief?"

Melissa got up and approached the visibly, extremely upset man. "John, Stiles doesn't know about your son, he didn't even know your name before today. At the risk of sounding like a nut case, and please remember that you have known me for a very long time so you know I have no mental issues, but...Stiles just knows things."

"Excuse me? John choked out.

"I know I sound crazy." Melissa grimaced. "But it's true. Stiles knows things that he shouldn't. Three years ago I was taking Scott to visit his grandmother in Los Angeles. Scott was very excited about the trip. Stiles, he started crying and saying if we went that Scott was going to get hurt. I thought he was just upset that we were going to be gone for a week, but two days into our vacation Scott fell out of a tree he had been climbing and broke his leg."

"That doesn't prove anything."

Melissa raised a single eyebrow. "Last year, Stiles was being extra clingy with Scott. He kept checking him for a fever and asking him if he had a belly ache. Concerned, I checked Scott over and found nothing wrong. Stiles kept mothering Scott and refused to go home that night. Three o'clock in the morning Scott woke me up with extreme pains in his stomach...it was his appendix."

"That is a bit strange." John conceded weakly.

"There have been other strange coincidences concerning Stiles. I don't know what to call it, but the boy knows things."

John didn't know what to think. The chances of Stiles Dixon, a boy that had been living in his town almost his entire life, of being his kidnapped son were like one and a trillion. "This...I don't know..." John covered his mouth with his hand to stop from whimpering.

Eyes softening, Melissa cupped John cheek. She hated seeing the man so distraught. "I could lose my job, but I'm willing to run a DNA test. That boy is worth being fired over...just try not to get your hopes up."

John pulled Melissa into a bone crushing hug. How could he not get his hopes up? Stiles, a boy that he felt strangely drawn to from the moment he laid his eyes on him, could possibly be his kidnapped baby. He was already saying every prayer that he knew that he was.


Whimpering and gasping for breath, Stiles carefully pulled his shirt over his head, mindful of his injured shoulder. His dad had gotten upset with him that morning during breakfast and had tossed the pot of water on him that he had boiled the eggs in. The pot had been full of scolding hot water.

Seeing his blistered and oozing shoulder, Stiles slumped down onto the floor and started crying. Why did his mom have to die? He had never been close to his dad, but he missed the man that he use to be. He never drank and did drugs when his mom was alive, and he never hurt him.

Closing his eyes, he tried to block out the pain by thinking about the sheriff. Scott may not believe him, but he knew that the sheriff was his real dad. He couldn't explain how he knew things, he just did. Sometimes it was just a feeling, but other times it was like he could see something happen before it did. With the sheriff, he just knew in his gut and in his heart that the man was his dad. He also knew that he could trust him.

Getting shakily to his feet, he wiped at his damp eyes before reaching for the burn cream. He was going need a lot, but his tube was almost empty. He was going to have to scrounge for enough change to buy more then sneak out to the drug store. The burn was bad, he really needed a doctor.

Tiptoeing down the stairs with five dollars in change in his pocket, Stiles quietly crept past the living room where his father was passed out on the sofa, a pile of beer cans next it, and slid out the door without making a sound. Sprinting around back and through the woods, he uncovered his bike from the leaves that he had hiding it. This bike was the last gift his mom had given him, and it meant the world to him. His dad had ordered him to give it to him so he could pawn it, but he refused. Even after the old man beat him, he still refused. His bike was starting to rust from being left out in the elements, but it was still a beautiful bike to him.

Climbing onto his bike, he grit his teeth through the pain and took off for the nearest drug store. His father more than likely wouldn't wake up for hours, but he had to be back before he did. It had already been a bad weekend, he didn't need to make it worse by his father finding out that he left the house after being ordered to stay in his room and not come until he he gave him permission. He hated Bo Dixon.


Licking his lips, Stiles stood looking at the freshly made donuts behind the glass. Looking down at the burn cream in his hand, he debated putting it back so he could get something to eat. He was so hungry, the last he had eaten was Friday night at Scott's and it was now Sunday afternoon.

His shirt painfully rubbing against his burn reminded Stiles why he desperately needed the burn cream. Sighing sadly, he dropped his head in defeat, his stomach clenching painfully. This wasn't the first time he has went days without eating, but being this hungry was something you could never really get use to.

"I'll take a dozen of mixed donuts."

Recognizing the voice coming from behind him, Stiles spun around, a huge grin on his face. "Mr. Sheriff Stillinski sir." He cried as he wrapped his good arm around the man's waist.

John felt as though his heart was going to explode out of his chest. He didn't need a DNA test, deep down he knew that this was his Mischief. He had been drawn into this store as he was driving by, it was as though a force had been pulling him to it. When he saw Stiles damn near drooling over the donuts, he knew that force had been his boy. Something was wrong with Stiles, he just knew it. Stiles needed him.

John dropped to his knees so he could be eye level with the nine year old. Taking a good look at the boy, he noticed that he was sickingly pale with dark circles under his eyes and a fresh bruise on his jaw. "Are you alright, son?"

Stiles just stared into the sheriff's kind eyes. This was his dad, not Bo Dixon. Everything was screaming at him that he could trust him. Slowly he shook his head no.

Pursing his lips, John cupped the boy's cheek. "Are you alone?" When the little boy nodded his head, John motioned towards where the drinks were kept. "Go pick yourself out something to drink, then we'll pay for everything then find a quiet place to talk."

Biting his bottom lip, Stiles held the burn cream out in front of him. "I have to get this. I have my own money." He said in a small voice.

With a frown, John took the cream and read it, "Is this for you? Do you have a burn?"

Stiles slowly nodded his head then pointed to his shoulder. "I-I knocked into a pot of boiling water." He lied.

John was frantic to check the boy's injury, but the middle of the store wasn't the place to do it. "I'll get the cream, go pick out some juice or milk."

Stiles hurried and did as the sheriff ordered. If the man was buying him a drink, maybe he would share one of his donuts too. He knew that he was going to get it good when he got home, but right now he didn't care about his dad, Bo. Right now all he cared about were the sheriff's kind eyes and the loving and comforting way in which he held his face. Bo may be big and tough, but he wasn't as big, or as tough, as Sheriff Stillinski. He felt safe with the sheriff.

Quickly paying for the purchases, John shuffled Stiles out the door and towards his police cruiser. He wanted to place a comforting hand on his back or something, but was afraid to touch him because he didn't know where else he was hurt at. He was almost to his car when he felt a tugging on his shirt.

With one hand gripping the sheriff's shirt, Stiles pointed towards his bike with his other hand. "I can't leave my bike, sheriff sir. I don't want someone to steal it."

"Not a problem." John was quick to reassure. "It should fit in my trunk."

Stiles grinned in relief. "Thank you, sheriff sir, my mom gave it to me."

"Then it's a very special bike." John proclaimed, his heart bleeding. Stiles should have meant Claudia when talking about his mother, but Claudia never got to be a real mother to Mischief. She had about eight good months after his birth before her brain started to quickly deteriorate.

As the sheriff was getting his bike, Stiles peered excitedly in the cop car window. He had never been in a cop car before, he wondered if the sheriff would turn the siren on for him. That would be awesome. Scott would be so jealous.

John wasn't sure where he was going to take Stiles, but he needed to check on his burn. If it was bad enough he would take him to the hospital. "Alright, son, why don't you show me your burn and then we will figure out what to do. Ok?"

Grimacing, Stiles pulled down his shirt, whimpering when he pulled on his burn. It hurt so bad, and his shirt sticking to it didn't help.

"Shi..." John stopped himself at the last minute from cursing. The burn was bad, way worse than what he was expecting. The boy had a serious second degree burn, if not third. "Stiles, I'm going to have to take you to the hospital. This needs to be looked at by a doctor."

With tears in his eyes, Stiles shook his head no. "I-I bought the burn cream."

"And that was smart of you, son, but you're going to need this properly cleaned and dressed with a prescription strength cream, not an over the counter one. You may even need antibiotics."

Stiles tried to be brave, but he was tired, hungry, and in a lot of pain. Nodding his head, he started crying. His dad is going to kill him when he found out he went to the hospital.

John carefully hugged the upset boy. "Why don't you snack on some donuts while I drive?" Standing up, he opened the back door for him. He knew that Stiles was lying about how he got burned, he was a cop and trained to detect lies. Stiles also wasn't a very good liar. He just wanted to take this boy and shield him from the world, even if he wasn't hasn't his Mischief. He already cared a great deal for Stiles.


Stiles hid nervously behind the sheriff's back as the man talked to the nurse. He didn't want this nurse, he wanted Scott's mom. Tentatively, he reached out and took the sheriff's hand.

John turned away from the nurse when Stiles took his hand. "You're lucky, Nurse McCall is on duty and she's being paged. Why don't you climb up on the bed?"

Stiles was reluctant to let go of the sheriff's hand but did as ordered. He knew he was going to have to take off his shirt, and he wasn't looking forward to doing that. He still had some lingering bruises, and some fresh ones, from where his dad had hit him with his fists, and taken a belt to his lower back. There was no way he was going to be able to lie about those bruises.

John grabbed a chair and placed it next to the bed. "Stiles, is your dad at home or at the garage where he works? I have to send an officer to inform him that you're here. As a minor, your guardian has to be here."

Stiles eyes widened in fear. "But...but, he's not my real dad. I'm adopted."

"But he's your legal guardian." John stressed. Then again, was he? If by some miracle Stiles was his Mischief, it was possible that Bo Dixon wasn't his legal guardian, unless he had forged paperwork. He was probably going to have to call in child services too, he had a feeling they were going to find more than just a burn on the boy's shoulder.

"When I left, my dad was passed out on the couch. He was drinking all night and I saw him do some drugs this morning."

John had to bite his tongue to keep from cursing out loud. "I'll have one of my men check on him and inform him that you're in the hospital."

Melissa came bursting through the curtain, her eyes clouded with concern. "Stiles." She proclaimed somewhat breathlessly. She had ran all the way from the third floor knowing that Stiles was in the emergency room, but not knowing why.

"Momma McCall!" Stiles grinned. He loved Scott's mom and having her as his nurse made him feel better.

Melissa eyes' flicked to the Sheriff, the tension leaving her body when she saw that Stiles was ok. "Sheriff Stillinski." She greeted. "What brings you two handsome men to my neck of the woods?"

John cleared his throat, blushing at the compliment. "Well, I ran into this young man at the store drooling over donuts and holding a tube of burn cream. It seems Stiles got on the bad side of a pot of boiling water."

"Stiles?" Melissa questioned in concern,

Sucking in his bottom lip, Stiles pulled down his shirt. "It-It was an accident."

Melissa gasped, her eyes widening. "Stiles Dixon, why didn't you call me immediately? That's a very, very, serious burn. You better get comfortable, young man, you're going to be here for a while."

Stiles eyes filled with tears but he refused to let them fall. "M'sorry, momma."

Melissa eyes softened. "It's going to be alright, Stiles, but we're going to have to inspect and clean that burn and it's not going to be fun. Are you in pain?"

Stiles opened his mouth to lie and say no, but one look from the sheriff had him rethinking his answer. "It hurts a lot." He admitted shamefully.

Melissa smiled sadly at the boy she loved like her own. "I know how you feel about needles, kiddo, but I'm going to gave to hook you up to an IV."

"Why?" Stiles whined loudly. He hated needles, just thinking about getting stuck with one was enough to make him throw up.

"Stiles love, that burn is very bad. By putting an IV in I can start you on some fluids, give you some pain meds that will take most of the pain away, and there's a good chance that the doctor may want to start you on antibiotics. That burn is a few hours old and we don't want it to get infected."

Stiles' bottom lip started quivering. "Will you stay with me?" He asked the sheriff.

John looked to Melissa. "Can you treat him without his f-father?" He asked tightly, having to force the word father out.

"Allison had me listed as an emergency contact for Stiles and she was an emergency contact for Scotty. When she passed, Bo had me listed as someone allowed to make decisions if he wasn't around."

John got up and patted Stiles on the knee. "I will stay with you as long as I can."

Relieved, Stiles leaned into the sheriff. "Thank you. I don't want to be alone."

John wanted to reassure Stiles that he would never leave him, but he couldn't do that until a DNA test was done. He may know in his heart that Stiles was his son, but until he could prove it he didn't have any rights. He couldn't even demand a DNA test without having proof of Stiles possibly being his. It was a good thing for him Melissa didn't mind taking matters into her own hands.

"Well, young man,." Melissa said, her voice wavering. It was heartbreaking seeing these two together. She was praying that Stiles was Mischief, they both were going to be devastated if he wasn't. Though, now seeing the two side by side, she could easily see the resemblance. Hopefully it just wasn't her mind wanting to see a resemblance. "We're going to have to take that shirt off. We can either do it the easy way and cut it off, or the hard way and take it off over your head, but by doing that you will have to move your shoulder."

Stiles had been dreading this. He didn't want them to see his bruises, but he knew that there was no way he could get out of it. "Cut it." He mumbled softly.

"I'll buy you a new one, kiddo." Melissa reassured as she grabbed a pair of scissors.

Stiles hung his head as momma McCall started cutting away at his shirt. He knew immediately when they spotted his bruises because they both gasped loudly. "I fell." He lied, his voice barely above a whisper. He knew he was going to have to tell the truth, but old habits were hard to kick. He had been lying about his bruises for two years.

"Young man, don't you lie to me!" Melissa snapped. "Unless you fell down three flights of stairs, there's no way falling would give you bruises like these. Now, let's try the truth."

Sniffling, Stiles swiped at his nose. "Sometimes my dad drinks too much and gets mad at me. He blames me for my mom dying. He just really misses her."

Melissa hated having her suspicions of child abuse confirmed. "I'm going to have to report this." She said to John.

John nodded grimly. "Is there anyway we can get him admitted for a few days so he doesn't get taken to a home? I just need a few days."

"I'll make it happen." Melissa said with determination.

Stiles grabbed the sheriff's hand as tightly as he could. "Can't you take me?" He wailed. "You're my real daddy. I don't want to go to an orphanage. I promise I'll be good. I promise."

John couldn't stop himself, he scooped Stiles off the bed and crushed him to his chest...mindful of all his injuries. The poor boy's back was just littered with bruises. "Son, we don't know for sure if I'm your daddy. We have to run special tests."

"But I know." Stiles cried. "I know it! I know that your my daddy. How come you didn't want me? Was I bad?"

Crying, and at a loss for words, John looked to Melissa for help. Why did Stiles think that he was his son? What special gift did the boy have?

"Stiles." Melissa said gently. "We don't know yet for sure if you are the sheriff's son. See, Sheriff Stillinski's little boy was kidnapped when he was three years old. If you're his son, he never gave you up."

"I am. I am. I am." Stiles kept repeating over and over again as he clung to the Sheriff.

Melissa tried to calm the distraught boy, but nothing she said helped. Worried about his health, she decided to give him a shot that would calm him, and more than likely put him to sleep.

With Stiles now calm and sleeping, John lovingly brushed the hair away from his red, and tear stained face. "I'm no doctor, but he feels a little warm."

Melissa quickly placed her hand on Stiles' forehead. "You're right. I'll see what's taking the doctor so long."

John reluctantly stepped away from the bed. "I'll check on the doctor. I have to check in with the station anyway. Bo should have been here by now."

Smiling, Melissa patted John on the arm. "Everything is going to be alright."

"And if he's not Mischief?"

"He'll still be a little boy in need of a daddy."

John nodded his head. "I pray to god that he's my Mischief, but if he's not I still want him. I have already been approved for fostering, I just never had time to follow through with it. I felt like taking in a kid was giving up on Mischief."

"He needs you John, just as much as you need him."

Nodding his head, John left the room with a lot to think about.


John watched from the waiting room as the woman from Child Protective Services left Stiles' room. He would have liked to have been in there while she talked to Stiles, but he was too close to the case. Instead one of his deputies had taken Stiles' statement.

"How did it go?" John asked, lunging to his feet when Melissa came out.

"Stiles did good, he's resting now."

John relaxed at hearing that. "Bo Dixon has left town. It seems after my officer informed him that Stiles was in the hospital with me, he packed a few things and left."

"Bastard!" Melissa spat.

"I have an APB out on him and my best guy is digging up any and all information they can find on him. He's not going to get away with this."

"Good." Melissa sighed tiredly. "I took a cheek sample from Stiles, I should have the results in a couple days?"

"And Stiles? What going to happen to him in the mean time?"

"Well, as much as I hate seeing him hurt or sick, he does have an infection that will keep him here for a few days, so that worked in our favor, and we should have the DNA results before he's discharged. Just to be on the safe side, I did volunteer to take Stiles in. I was listed in Allison's will as a guardian for Stiles if he should ever need one. I won't let him get sent to a home or sent to strangers."

John surprised even himself when he hugged Melissa. "Thank you so much."

"Hey, boss, you need to see this."

John released the nurse and turned to his best computer guy. "Did you find something?"

The cop was clinging tightly to a file. "I... Sir, just look." He said seriously as he handed the file over.

Opening the file, all the color drained from John's face. With trembling hands, he dropped the file and fell to his knees. "Mieczyslaw!" He wailed.

Melissa quickly picked up the file, but she really didn't know what she was reading. "What's wrong?" She asked frantically.

The cop pointed to a picture in the file. "This woman here, she's Bo Dixon's sister...she's also the woman who kidnapped the Sheriff's son."

"Stiles." Melissa said, a smile breaking out on her face. "Oh my god, Allison couldn't have children, so Bo had his sister kidnap Stiles."

The cop nodded his head. "She had been using a fake name at the time. I recognized her immediately and was finally able to trace her steps after she took Mischief. She drove nonstop to Texas where she had a fake birth certifiable, a very good fake one at that, made up, along with a fake mother's death certificate and papers signing the baby over to her. She then gave the baby to Allison Dixon, who knew nothing of the kidnapping, claiming that she had gotten him through a private adoption agency that she worked for. And, boss, LAPD phoned in, they got Dixon."

Unable to stop his tears, John climbed back to his feet. "I need to see him. I need to see my son...my baby boy."

"After you calm down and clean yourself up." Melissa smiled. "I don't know how Stiles knew that you were his dad, but that boy is amazing."

"I-I have a son!" John said breathlessly. "After all these years I have my son back. I'm never letting him out of my sight again."


"Doc! Doc! Doc!" Sixteen year old Stiles Stillinski cried as he raced to the back of the vet clinic. Stiles, now Stiles Stillinski, or Mischief as his dad called him when he was getting into trouble, burst through one of the exam room doors without knocking.

It had been seven years since Stiles found his real father and got to start a new life with him. He remembered the day it was confirmed that he was Mieczyslaw Stillinski, Sheriff Stillinski missing son, as though it happened only yesterday. That was because it had been the best day in his life. After two years of hate and abuse, he finally had a dad that wanted and loved him. Life wasn't always easy, but he loved his dad. John Stillinski was the best father in the world.

So much had changed over the past seven years, the biggest changes were his dad and Momma McCall marrying and Scott becoming his real brother, and Scott becoming a werewolf. Scott had gotten bit by Peter Hale after they had stupidly went wandering the woods in search of a dead body. Well, half of a dead body anyway.

"Stiles, how many times have I told you to knock first?" Deaton sighed in exasperation. Knowing he wouldn't get any work done until the teen had his say, Deaton put the cat he had been examining on the floor.

"Five or six times at least." Stiles answered with a blinding and excited grin. "But I couldn't wait to tell you. It's so exciting."

Deaton raised a single eyebrow. "Well, don't keep me waiting, child."

"I did something freaky with the Mountain Ash!" Stiles blurted out. "I didn't have enough to go around the building, not even close, so I started to believe that I had enough...and I did! I don't know how I did it, it was like magic."

"It was your spark." Deaton said knowingly. He had wondered when the boy's spark would manifest fully. Now that the boy's spark had been ignited, he was going to become very powerful and need proper training.

"My what?"

"Your spark. You have magic inside of you, Stiles. It's how you sometimes know things."

Stiles' mouth dropped open. "Like how I knew Sheriff Stillinski was my real dad the second he walked into my fourth grade classroom? The spark, that's how I knew?"

"Exactly." Deaton confirmed. 'You have always been a spark, I sensed it in you the first time I met you, but now that you're older and stronger you will need to be trained.

All these years Stiles wondered how he knew that the sheriff was his dad, and now he knew. He had magic, a spark, and that spark recognized the sheriff. His spark had given him the best gift ever...a dad. It was painful to think what could have happened, or where he would be right now, if his spark hadn't recognized his dad.

Seeing the boy lost in thought, Deaton went to his office and grabbed a book. "Start reading this." He ordered as he thrust the book in the teen's numb hands. "And knock next time!"

Stiles took the book, his mind reeling. He wondered how his mom and dad were going to take the news that he had magic? They took the werewolf news pretty well, even though his dad did shoot Peter for biting Scott. It had been a normal bullet so it didn't phase Peter, but the man now knew not to mess with Sheriff John Stillinski and his family. His dad was extremely protective of him and Scott.

With a grin on his face, Stiles left the vet's office and hopped in his blue jeep. The jeep had belonged to his biological mother, a mother he had no memory of, but his dad had told him loads of stories about her and he felt blessed to have had two mothers who loved him when he was younger. He now had Melissa, his third mother, and he was equally as blessed to have her in his life.

His life now, even with the supernatural drama, was damn near perfect. Well, maybe not perfect, but it felt perfect after living two years with a man that hated him and hurt him. His shoulder still carried horrible scars from when Bo had poured scalding water on it, but he loved those damn scars.

Every time he looked at those scars he saw the sheriff's tear stained face as he burst into his hospital room, crawled into bed with him, and held him after it was confirmed that he was his son. For hours the sheriff just held him, repeating over and over again how much he loved him.

For seven years he never once questioned the sheriff's love. They fought, like any normal teenager and father, but he knew that his dad loved him, and that his love was unconditional.

He knew he wasn't an easy kid to raise, even now on Adderall, but his dad took it all in stride. He even found it funny when he wrote a paper for his Econ class on the male circumcision. It wasn't what he was suppose to write about, but it had been a damn good paper.

He tried to be a good son, he really did, but trouble always had a way of finding him. He blamed his father for jinxing him with the nickname of Mischief when he was just a baby. If his dad had wanted him to be perfect, then he should have nicknamed him angel.

Pulling into the driveway of a home his dad bought after he asked Momma McCall to marry him, Stiles grinned when he saw that his dad was home. Even after all these years and being around supernatural beings with incredible strength and healing powers, he never felt safer than when his dad was around. His dad wasn't a werewolf, he couldn't lift a car or leap over a house, but he would do everything within his power, even give his life, to keep him safe. There wasn't anything his dad wouldn't do for him.

Seeing his dad at the door waiting for him, Stiles jumped out of the jeep and raced up the drive. Hugging his dad was something he never grew out of, or got embarrassed about doing. He loved burying his nose in his dad's neck and inhaling his Old Spice and leather scent. It was the scent of home to him.

"Love you, dad." Stiles mumbled into his dad's neck.

"I love you too, son."