Stiles is changing. His humour fading, the light in his eyes turning darker with everyday, he was becoming more and more like the dark spirit they just defeated. His friends notice it. His dad notices it. Stiles knew this.
But what he didn't know...
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"Are you absolutely certain it's from him?"
Phil asked his brother-in-law with a frown, his voice holding no kindness. Noah narrowed his eyes in distaste at the agent, unhappy with his tone.
"Yes. It's from Stiles." The Sheriff replied sourly, gazing over at Tony and Natasha who were standing next to them, listening intently. "I know my son." He pointed to the scrawny handwriting on the sheet of paper before them. "And this is definitely from him." He raised his eyebrow in challenge at Coulson.
"Fine." Phil stood back and spoke to some agents in the back of the room in hushed whispers. Noah rolled his eyes as he looked over at the two Avengers in the room.
"Why does he have to be all 'agent' about it?" Noah complained to Tony and Nat, watching his brother-in-law with a frown. "We all want to find Stiles, it's like he doesn't even care." The Sheriff crossed his arms over his chest as Natasha cleared her throat.
"Oh, he cares all right." She muttered, bringing Noah's attention back to her. "We all care, and we all want him home. Wasting time on a false lead is detrimental to the search, and the longer he is missing..." Natasha's voice broke, as her eyes welled up. She shook her head, desperately blinking away the tears as she cleared her thoughts. "It doesn't matter now. This is a lead, and I swear we will find your son, Sheriff."
Noah smiled gratefully at her, the wrinkles around his tired blue eyes more prominent from the recent stress. Quickly, he pulled her into a tight embrace, his voice cracking as tears began to brim in his eyes.
"Thank you." He whispered. "Thank you for everything."
——————
The open plain was dim and quiet, the light from the setting sun had not yet fallen over the dew-filled grass, and left the clearing in an anticipatious silence. The cool water trickled slowly down the river bed, dodging rocks and plants in its way as it flowed downstream, away from what was about to occur.
Noah Stilinski stood on the north side of the river, watching the wind race through the grass with glassy eyes. Memories of many years ago filled his tired mind as he saw his son running through the blades of grass, calling out to his mother only a few metres away. This is where Stiles had told him to meet. That's how he knew it was definitely him.
"You good Sheriff?" Natasha called through the coms in his ear. Noah shook himself out of his daze at the sound of her words echoing in his ears. Slowly he nodded his head in answer, aware that she could watch his every move from the quinjet, invisible in the sky.
"Dad?"
Noah froze at the sound of the voice. The familiar tone sending shivers down his spine. Slowly he turned around, his hands trembling in fear and anticipation.
"Stiles?" He whispered in shock, seeing his son standing before him in the flesh for the first time in months. Stiles looked tired, his clothes days old and his mousey brown hair scruffy as always. And yet Noah noticed something different about his son, Stiles seemed content, he seemed free from the worries that had plagued his life previously, he seemed happy.
"Hey Dad-" Stiles was cut off as Noah jumped into his arms, pulling his son into a tight embrace as cool tears trickled down his exhausted cheeks. It was that moment, when he was holding his son in his arms, that the Sheriff felt one overpowering emotion, an emotion that sent any rational thoughts from his mind as all he could feel was this. Guilt.
Quickly Noah pulled away, wiping the tears from his eyes he began shaking his head in shame.
"No no no no no, this isn't right, it isn't." The Sheriff cried as he began pulling at his ears. Stiles watched in confusion as it seemed his father had gone insane. Suddenly the teen's eyes widened as he realised what he was looking for, tears of betrayal gleamed in his whisky orbs as Noah pulled out an earpiece from his ear.
"Why Dad?" Stiles shook with rage. "I trusted you." The teen spat at his broken father, who had collapsed onto the ground unable to bear to look at the son he had just betrayed. "Why does everyone I trust betray me." He muttered to himself as the wind picked up around him, the eerie sound of helicopter propellers filled his ears as he was brought back to that moment in the forest last year.
Stiles closed his eyes, preparing himself as shouts filled the clearing. He could feel the guns on him, aimed to fire as his father cried lowly beside him. The teen held his breath, awaiting the hands to grab him, pushing him to the ground. But they never came.
Instead he heard confused shouting, gunshots firing, but not at him. Confused, he slowly opened his eyes, his jaw dropping in shock as his whisky iris' adjusted to the blistering evening sun.
Agents were lying motionless on the floor around him, he could see the soft movements of their chests displaying a small sign of life despite their present condition. The clearing was eerily silent, the air thick from the events that occurred just before.
Alarmed he quickly checked for his father behind him, his face paling as he spotted the Sheriff lying in the grass. Hurriedly he ran over to him, kneeling down to check his pulse as his forehead sweater profusely.
"Dad?" Stiles called to his unconscious father as he gently shook his limp body. "Dad!" The teen shouted, the panic crawling up his throat as he got no reaction, no reply. Just as he felt his worry closing in, someone cleared their throat behind him.
"He will be ok you know."
A soft male voice crept up from behind, dragging Stiles' watery eyes from his fathers body to the pale man before him. The teen's eyes took in the man's figure, from his lanky frame to the gently curves of his chocolate brown hair. The man was unusual, and yet intriguing. Stiles felt a sense of familiarity as he looked upon the man before him, the same feeling he felt when he was around Sierra. It was against every instinct the boy had but he was calm. A quiet bliss before the storm.
"Come with me, I'll keep you safe." The man beckoned his arm outstretched. "It's about time the four horsemen were together once more."
And without a second thought, as if stuck in a trance, Stiles reached out and took the man's hand just as Noah began to open his eyes. The only thing the Sherriff could see through his hazy vision as was a flicker of smoke before his son and the mysterious man vanished into thin air.
All that was left for the old man was the sound of the water in the stream, running through the rocks as the sun began to set over the meadow. Noah Stilinski had lost his son again. And it was all his fault.
