Series Rewrite (A Teen Wolf Fanfiction) Continued

Sundowning Pt 3

"Dammit, Liam," I groaned as we walked into the house. Melissa had to go back to the hospital, but she made sure we knew exactly how angry she was. Good thing she went back, too, because if she had to come home to this mess on top of what we'd just pulled, someone would not a happy camper and I'm not talking about her.

The house was trashed on account of the party Liam threw. The table full of empty alcohol bottles told me it was a rager. Oddly enough, it was also covered in leaves. I didn't even want to know why our floor looked like our lawn. One of the posts on the staircase railing was split in half. That would be a bitch to fix. I frowned at Liam, who had the sense enough to look guilty.

"You said to find a safe place," he argued. "So we brought the party here."

"Who said to throw a party at all?" Scott asked, his entire body looking defeated from the day we'd had.

"At least we saved Gwen."

"At least," I scoffed, making Liam frown. I realized then why there might be leaves here. "The Ghost Riders came, didn't they? Did you see one?"

"Corey made him visible so we could fight him."

"Alright, but doesn't the book say that if you see the Wild Hunt, you'll be taken, too?" Scott asked, and my anger at Liam drifted into worry.

"Everyone at the party saw him." It's official. We were boned. Noticing our expressions, Liam became worried, too. "Does that mean that..."

"They're all gunna be taken," I finished with a nod.

Glass crunched under Scott's shoe. "We should've been here."

So we couldn't dwell too long, I pointed at Liam. "You, grab a trash bag. Start cleaning up down here, we'll start upstairs." Liam nodded and went into the kitchen. He came back with a handful of trash bags, giving some to us, and we went upstairs.

Both of our rooms were completely littered with crumpled red solo cups and my floor had a used condom on it. My whole room smelled like sex. I was definitely washing my sheets tonight. We started in Scott's room, deciding to work together.

Since we were quiet, I had time to stew in my own thoughts and it sucked. The more I watched Scott, the more I realized how wrong everything was. It was unfair to continue the way we were when I couldn't give him what he deserved.

"Scott?"

"Hm?"

"Can I tell you something?" My back was to him so I could pretend I was talking to myself.

"Yeah, what is it, babe?"

"I don't know if you've felt it, but there's this, like... Like a hole in my head, you know?"

Scott stopped, his brows furrowing in confusion. "What, you mean like memory lapses?"

I sat down on his bed with a sigh, my body feeling tired. "No, it's not like that. It's like deep in my soul something just feels wrong." I kept my head down, playing with the pull string on the trash bag. "Like being with you, for instance. It doesn't feel right."

Scott was dead silent, but I could hear his heart hammering in his chest. The bed shifted as he sat down next to me, his sad face looking at mine. "Are you breaking up with me?"

I stood fast, groaning as my words refused to come out right. "No! That's the point. I don't think we were ever actually together. Not really."

"I'm not following." He stared at me with confused eyes, but I didn't blame him. Maybe I was acting crazy.

"I'm saying I don't think this is real. I think whoever this person, this-this guy is... I think I was in love with him." Saying it for the first time, I knew I was right about this. I wanted him to be mine, and I just needed to see the proof.

Scott didn't answer, and in the middle of a deep breath he took, Sheriff surprised us by poking his head in. He was out of uniform, which was strange to see, but I wondered what he was doing here, especially this late at night.

"Looks like a hell of a party," he chuckled. Scott stood quickly, standing by my side as a respectful greeting to him.

"Yeah, uh... Hopefully we get it all cleaned before my mom comes home," Scott sighed, looking around his room at the mess. Sheriff offered to help, picking up a few cups with a grunt. "Hey, Sheriff. I'm really sorry."

"Yeah, me, too," I said sincerely. "We never should've gone to see your father." No matter how useful his final outburst may have been.

"No, no. It's okay," he said, waving it off. "I should've been clearer about who he is. Maybe a part of me just didn't want to have to admit it." Sheriff set the trash down on the desk before pulling his shirt back to reveal a nasty scar on his left clavicle. "This is my dad, guys. He pushed me through a glass table going after my mom. There's still tiny pieces of glass in there. The doctor told my mother that they'd probably be in there for the rest of my life, working their way out." Neither I nor Scott knew what to say to that. Sheriff was always so strong and to hear this only made me see him as stronger. He shrugged like it wasn't a big deal. "Small price to pay to keep him away from her. That time."

"I'm sorry, Sheriff," I said quietly. He nodded and sat down on the small bench at the foot of Scott's bed, pushing aside cups to do so.

"You know, something you guys said has just been bugging me all day. Something about memories."

"What do you mean?" Scott asked.

"Have you ever had a dream that's so real that you thought it was a memory?" I knew the exact feeling he was talking about because I felt it every night. The only reason I could tell it wasn't real was because the man in my dreams never had a face, but he always wore that same plaid flannel.

Scott, however, didn't because his eyes jumped around like he was thinking real hard, so Sheriff set out to help him understand. "Okay, in this dream, I'm lying in bed with Claudia. It's a couple weeks before we graduate college and we're talking about the future and kids and what we'll call them. And I tell her that if we have a son, I want to name him after her father. And she laughs at me and she says, 'Why would you want to saddle some poor kid with a name like that?' And I told her, 'Because he's a great father, the kind of father I wish I had, and the kind I hope to be.'

"At that point in the dream she smiles, kisses me, and says, 'Okay, we'll name him that, but it won't matter. He'll just be called Stiles anyway.'," he finished. My suspicion was confirmed with that story, that Stiles was Sheriff's son. Sheriff might not have been totally sold, but I could tell he was on his way towards accepting the possibility. It felt so right to say that Stiles was a Stilinski, and it only made me miss him even more.