Wicked Witchcraft (Stiles Stilinski)

Prepared to Die First

Stiles was not having any luck convincing his father of the supernatural's existence. Following the events of Cora's collapse, he trailed after his dad in the hospital.

"What did you see, that night at the bank, when Scott was trying to save Deaton?" Stiles tried. It was one of his many attempts to convince the sheriff that not everything was what it seemed.

The sheriff was losing his last shred of patience as his son kept talking. "Nothing." He replied, walking down the hallway.

"Dad, you saw him healing himself, after he tried crossing the mountain ash," Stiles argued, and the sheriff wasn't having any of it.

"I don't know what I saw."

"You saw something that you can't explain!"

"Stiles," the sheriff whirled around to face his son. "I have seen a lot of things I can't explain in this town. That doesn't make them supernatural, and that doesn't make them real! They just found another body, that's real. And that's the lead I'm following." He started to turn around and head for the hospital doors.

Stiles shook his head fervently, "Dad, another teacher's going to die if you don't start listening to me!"

"I AM LISTENING, I HAVE BEEN LISTENING!" Stiles' father yelled. He was reaching a breaking point with his son. The murders going on in the town, half of the state and the FBI breathing down his neck, the last thing Noah Stilinski needed was his son to be telling him things that were not real, and didn't help him in any way.

"You just don't believe," Stiles said in a small voice. The sheriff, without another word, walked to the doors once more.

He froze when he heard the words, "Mom would've believed me," uttered behind him.

Stiles walked away from his dad into the hallways of the busy hospital. He sat down in a chair outside of Cora's room when he got a call from Scott.

Scott had just finished up making sure that Ginny Child was as safe as could be inside her home when he got the call. Allison and Isaac had found the body of Mr. Westover, confirming that philosophers were indeed a target. Scott called Stiles to tell him the news.

"Scott?"

"It's philosophers, as in teachers. Allison and her father just found Mr. Westover," Scott told Stiles over the phone.

"That makes sense. Tara, she wasn't always a cop, she used to teach middle school."

"Then, the last one's going to be a teacher!"

"Yeah, but there's dozens of them, Scott. And they're all headed home."

Scott stopped in his tracks, "No, no they're not. They're all going to the recital!"

"Isn't June helping out at the recital tonight?" Stiles asked him, suddenly getting up from his seat.

"Yeah, she is. Look, I'm getting on my bike and I'm headed to the school. Call June, and tell her that the darach is there. The darach is there, and he's going to take another teacher."

Stiles was already out the doors of the hospital, and walking briskly to his jeep. "Okay, I'm leaving the hospital now, I'll meet you there."

As soon as he hung up on Scott, he dialed June's number. It kept ringing too long for his liking. "C'mon June, pick up pick up pick up."

He didn't know that June's cell phone was ringing on deaf ears. For June was tied to a chair, unconscious and her mouth taped shut.

"Dammit, June pick up the phone!" When she didn't answer for the seventh straight time, he threw his phone to the passenger's seat in an anxious manner. He shifted gears on his jeep, and pressed further down on the accelerator.