Chapter Text
The sheriff was out of options, he didn't know what to do about Stiles. He didn't want to search Stiles's room, afraid of what he would find. He hated the look on Stiles's face though, the one where the Sheriff knew he knew he was lying, that he was into something that was pulling him under, drowning him under the pressure. He saw the bruises Stiles tried to hide, the way he stood stiff and awkward the day after bodies showed up. Seemed like Stiles was always injured the day after something terrible happened, and the Sheriff couldn't take it anymore.
Stiles was out god knows where, and for once the Jeep was in the garage. The Sheriff slid himself into the drivers seat, searching in all the normal spots. He carefully slid his hands under the seat, closed his eyes in disappointment when he found a gun underneath it. He knew it wasn't registered, and wondered where Stiles had bought it. He sniffed the barrel, sighing at the smell of gunpowder and, something else he couldn't place. Fired recently then. He found a button under the passenger's seat, pressed it and then jumped a little as the seat moved back.
What the hell? There was a book, older then anything the Sheriff had seen, in Latin he thinks. There were jars of something black, bags of various strains of what looked like wolfsbane. The only other time the Sheriff had seen wolfsbane was in relation to the Hales. Derek Hale. The Sheriff was going to kill him if he had gotten Stiles into whatever the hell this was. There were knives sitting next to a clear liquid, one that looked an awful lot like that stuff that had been on the door handle at the garage where the mechanic was killed. They had never figured out what that stuff was, but the Sheriff suddenly wondered if Stiles had known all along.
He pushed the button again, watching it slide back up in fascination. He knocked over Stiles's lacrosse stick when he leaned over to look in the glove box, hurried to settle it. He paused, hefted it's weight. This was no ordinary lacrosse stick, it was much too heavy. As he looked closer he realized that it was solid wood on one half, like a handle, and there were markings all over it. He inspected it carefully, grinning slightly as he saw the line, and twisted it to the right. He startled as it came apart in his hands, revealing an incredibly sharp blade that curved slightly at the tip.
The Sheriff's breathing came faster. What in the world was Stiles doing with all of these weapons? Why was he coming home with bruises? What was all this stuff!? The Sheriff reached over to look in the glove box, pulled out an extremely wrinkled piece of paper. As he read it his heart dropped, while his mind raced.
You are human. There are wolves in sheep's clothing. The Sheriff clenched his fist as it all became clear. Of course. Werewolves. It all made sense now, the bruises, Hale, Stiles gaining new friends seemingly overnight. The weapons, the secrets, the lying. Obviously he was the he in the paper. The Sheriff sighed, he remember his wife saying they had werewolves in the neighborhood. She had sounded so excited, happily talking about how nice it was to connect to a pack again. But when they had died, she had started to fade so quickly. He was desperate, anything to save her. In the end he could only watch her die, wondering desperately how he was going to take care of Stiles, if he would ever start to ask questions.
Looks like Stiles went out and found the answers for himself. He wondered if his wings had come in yet, if Stiles knew what he was. He wondered if Hale had approached Stiles, or Stiles him. Or was it simply unavoidable, the two drawn to one another like she was to the Hale pack. A Protector, that's what she had called herself. That's what Stiles was.
The Sheriff stiffened suddenly, then started laughing. Of course, Scott was a werewolf! Bitten by Peter Hale most likely, which would explain why Peter miraculously healed after being a coma for so long. All those kids Stiles had been hanging around with lately, Issac, Boyd, Erica, even Jackson. He was happy to see Hale included humans in his pack too, thinking of Allison, Danny, Lydia, and Stiles. He sobered at the memory of his wife fading away after the death of the Hale pack. He'd be damned if he would lose Stiles the same way. No, the Sheriff was going to do everything he could to keep them all alive.
Starting with having a 'heart to heart' discussion with Stiles and Hale.