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Sixteen years later...

Stiles's head bobbed to the music from the radio as he cut through the desolate County Highway. The eerie silence of the night amplified the suspense that hung in the air. Glancing at the 15-year-old boy in the backseat, he felt a surge of unease. The dim glow of the moonlight cast haunting shadows on his face. It emphasized his youthful innocence juxtaposed with the burden he unknowingly carried. Stiles's grip tightened on the steering wheel as he broke the silence.

"You gonna be okay staying with Uncle Scott?" Stiles asked. His voice was laced with concern and an underlying tension that hinted at something more.

The kid nodded, his blond hair curling at his forehead. He didn't look up from his phone. The strands of his hair intertwined with the secrets hidden within his blood. "Uncle Scotty's cool. Aunt Allison bakes better cookies than you."

Stiles chuckled, his laughter betraying his attempt to maintain a sense of normalcy. "Hey, don't insult my cookies. Last week's batch was better than the last." His eyes rolled, but a flicker of apprehension lingered beneath the surface.

The boy snorted, nervous energy radiating from him, and resumed focusing on the device in his hands. The weight of their unspoken words hung in the air, shrouding them in a veil of uncertainty. Stiles and the kid drove in silence, the only sound the hum of the engine and the occasional crackle of the radio. The interstate was desolate. The dark road mirrored the tumultuous journey they had traveled.

Stiles found himself lost in a labyrinth of memories and emotions as he drove. He reflected on the past sixteen years. Memories of loss, betrayal, and a darkness that still clung to their souls. Memories of shattered innocence and the unrelenting horrors they had faced. Memories of their unwavering determination to rebuild their lives. 

Even in the face of unimaginable adversity.

Allison, he learned, was Claudia's great-granddaughter. A connection that bound them together through blood and tragedy. She had joined them in the States, seeking solace and a fresh start. Beacon Hills became their sanctuary. But the scars they carried ran deep. It infected their relationships with fear and doubt.

It took years for Scott and Allison to find their way to each other, their hearts scarred and wary. The memories of Gevaudan lingered, a constant reminder of the darkness they had faced. But fate intervened. A chance encounter after an earthquake in New Jersey brought them back together. Their love rekindled. They had embraced a new chapter in their lives as husband and wife. They worked side by side to create a haven in Beacon Hills.

Claudia had passed away not long after his return to the States. Her absence left a void, a bittersweet ache that resided deep within Stiles's heart. He couldn't help but wish Claudia and his great-grandmother had found solace together in the afterlife. United by the love they had bestowed upon them.

The years following Stiles's return were tumultuous. He was filled with resentment, tears, and a journey of self-acceptance. He struggled to accept the harsh truth of what had happened to him and Scott in Gevaudan. He was haunted by the knowledge that he carried the offspring of a monstrous creature within him. At first, he had resented the child, the living embodiment of his trauma. He had named him Eli, after Noah's father's less-than-ideal lineage, an act born of his pain and confusion.

Stiles had always wanted to be part of the FBI, and now his dream had come true. He was working in New York City and raising his son, Eli, on his own. Eli's birth had been a surprise, but Stiles had come to accept the child as his own. He recognized the innocence that lay within Eli, and he was determined to give him a good life. Stiles's father, Noah, had been a great help to him. He had been the unwavering sheriff of Beacon County until a stroke three years ago confined him to a wheelchair. But with the help of Scott's mother, Melissa. Noah regained his independence, taking small steps on his path to recovery.