Never Stop Running

F I F T E E N / E P I L O G U E

Lucky for them, it was the end. Of that situation, at least.

The four gladers struggled for months to fall back into a normal place in society, but they did with the help of the rest of the pack. Everyone graduated, and somehow Stiles beat Lydia for valedictorian, and it probably helped that WICKED had them learning insanely advanced things at their young age. Lydia followed close behind as their class salutatorian, and she still got to make a speech, so she was happy.

Shane and Stiles decided to attend the same college, and after loads of late-night discussions and a few arguments, they decided on Berkeley. It was close to home, and close to the FBI preparatory academy Stiles wanted to attend as well. Shane studied to become a teacher of language arts and literature, and Stiles is all for it to see him in his bulky glasses.

It was heartbreaking as Stiles was informed of what happened to his father, the man he never got to say goodbye to.

//Flashback//

"So where's my dad?" Stiles asked with a grin on his face as he finished his reunion with Mama McCall.

Melissa's breath caught in her throat, and she turned to Scott with a look between disappointment and disbelief. "You didn't tell him?"

Scott cowered under the glare and pulled his best kicked puppy face. "There wasn't a good time! I didn't know how to say it, either," he admits sadly, and Melissa's expression softens ever so slightly.

Stiles flails his arms a bit. "Guys, I'm right here. What happened to my dad?" His goofy smile falls as he catches sight of the tears in his second mother's eyes.

"Um, Stiles, how about you sit down for this?" Melissa's composure falls as she catches sight of her may-as-well-be son's crestfallen face. She leads him to the couch and pulls him to sit beside her, pulling his numb body into hers.

Scott sat opposite of them, guilt settling on his chest for keeping this from him so long. Especially since he heard his unconscious mumble to his dad last week in Deaton's office. "Stiles, you already knew we had met Deucalion before, and a lot of shit went down when he was here the first time. All Deucalion heard was the name Stilinski referring to the human that runs with the wolves, so he went searching. And well, he found a Stilinski," the teen began explaining, wincing at how pathetic he sounded.

"What did he do?" Stiles demanded, struggling to stand, but Melissa held him close to her chest. Tears had gathered in his eyes as he can kind of assume what happened.

Scott took a deep breath. "H-he wanted your dad in his pack, but Noah refused, as you could probably assume." His friend managed a weak smile remembering the signature stubbornness that ran in the family. "So Deucalion took him and bit him. And Stiles... he didn't survive the Bite." Scott kept his head down, too ashamed to look his best friend in the eyes. Too disappointed in himself that he couldn't protect his brother's father. The man that was more of a father to him than his own father.

Stiles was deadly quiet for a few minutes, except for the breathy sobs into Melissa's shoulder as she held him tightly. Then he suddenly looked up, eyes red and puffy and hair tousled, but he didn't care. "So, this supernatural stuff is what killed my dad? You brought my dad into this shit and let him die?!" Stiles' voice grew in volume the more hysterical he became.

"Stiles-" Melissa tried, but Stiles wouldn't hear any of it as he shoved her off of him and rose to his feet.

"No. Scott, please leave me alone. I can't- I can't do this right now, okay? He didn't deserve this." Stiles whimpered as his shoulders caved a bit. "I need to go," he mumbled before grabbing his keys and rushing out of the house.