the journal

mom

Stiles sat up in Derek's bed, heart pounding from a nightmare that refused to fade with the morning light. The thought had haunted him all night, even as he tried to ignore it: *What if his mom was in the basement?* He'd never been down there before. His dad had always kept it locked, saying it was a storage space filled with junk, nothing worth seeing. But that nagging feeling wouldn't let go.

"Hey, you okay?" Derek's voice broke through Stiles's thoughts, his hand warm on Stiles's shoulder.

"Yeah," Stiles mumbled, not meeting his boyfriend's concerned gaze. "I... I just need to check something at home."

After giving Derek a quick kiss goodbye, Stiles headed back to his house. The house felt different, as if it were holding its breath along with him. His hands shook as he dug out the key he'd swiped from his dad's desk and unlocked the basement door. The air down there was thick, musty, carrying a chill that crept up his spine. But he couldn't stop now.

As he moved further into the shadows, his flashlight beam caught something tucked away in the corner: a large, old trunk. Its once-bright brass edges had dulled with time, the lock rusty but loose enough to pry open. He could almost hear his heartbeat echoing off the walls as he lifted the lid.

Inside, there was no mistaking it—the clothes, his mom's favorite sweater and scarf. And beneath them, a cluster of brittle, bleached bones that crumbled at his touch.

The realization struck him like a punch to the gut, and he stumbled back, bile rising in his throat. His mom. All these years, she'd been right here. A mixture of shock and anger coursed through him as he pulled his phone from his pocket. His fingers hovered over the call button for 911, but instead, he dialed Agent Rafe McCall's number. He didn't know why; maybe he just trusted Rafe more to handle this... delicately.

After a few rings, Rafe answered, his voice gruff but concerned when he heard Stiles's shaken tone.

"Agent McCall, it's Stiles. I need... I need you to come over. There's something in my basement, and I think it has to do with my mom."

Rafe didn't hesitate. "I'll be there in ten minutes. Stay where you are."

As Stiles hung up, he sank onto the basement steps, his mind swirling with questions he wasn't sure he wanted the answers to. How long had his dad known? Had he been hiding this all along? He barely had time to process before he heard a knock upstairs, signaling that Agent McCall had arrived. Stiles let him in, numbness setting in as he pointed Rafe toward the basement door, barely able to speak.

When Rafe saw the trunk and the remains within, his face paled, his eyes full of sympathy as he turned back to Stiles. "Stiles, I'm so sorry. We'll figure out what happened. I promise."

Stiles nodded, trying to hold back the tears. He wasn't sure what hurt more—finding his mom's bones or realizing that his dad might've known all along.

Rafe watched Scott and Derek comfort Stiles from a distance, his heart heavy with what he had to do next. He'd been a family friend for years, and he knew Noah Stilinski as a good man, someone who'd dedicated his life to protecting others. But now, faced with the grim reality of what they'd found in the basement, he couldn't ignore his duty.

Taking a deep breath, Rafe turned to one of his senior officers. "It's time. We're bringing in Noah Stilinski."

The officer nodded, and within moments, a team was assembled. They drove to the station, where Noah was on duty, blissfully unaware of the discovery back at his own home. Rafe's team arrived in silence, moving with precision as they approached the sheriff's office. Rafe entered alone first, his expression a mix of sorrow and determination.