Chapter 1: One forgives to the degree that one loves – Francois De la Rochefoucauld

Sheriff John Stilinski was just finishing the routine shift hand over to his Deputy Derek Hale when the call was put through to his desk. He sighed. God damn it he was tired, so tired, he just wanted to finish this double shift, go home, no not home, it hadn't been home since Stiles…No he stopped the wayward thoughts right there, he was in work, he could spill his guts when he was home, and once he had found that bottle of Jack he had bought specifically for today then he could really let rip. Today had been a bitch, in more ways than one. It seemed like everyone and their dog in Beacon Hills had decided to break, bend or downright ignore the very existence of the law notwithstanding that today was also one of the hardest days of the year for him personally.

It had been seven years, seven cold guilt filled empty desolate years since his boy had left in fear and anger and desperation. Since his only son, the image of his adored mother, had left believing his own father had abandoned him, after he had been rejected by his best friend and the pack he had nearly killed himself to protect. Damn it. He was getting maudlin whilst he was still at work when he needed to be professional. Only another ten minutes and he could head back to his empty house to wallow in his own misery.

Two nights a year he allowed himself the right to that misery. The anniversary of his wife's death and the wretched day his boy had left. The rest of the time, he had taken Stiles last painful bitter words to heart.

He had cleaned himself up, only drinking on the very rare occasions when putting alcohol into his mouth was the better option than the barrel of his service revolver. He had opened himself up to people again or more accurately he had become a member of the Beacon Hills werewolf pack which meant he was no longer alone unless he wanted to be, and even then the others, his pack mates still didn't seem to understand personal boundaries.

The offer had been made and god help him accepted when Scott had finally been able to look John in the face again six months after Stiles had left, when the Alpha had come by the house, sobered the Sheriff up, poured away all the liquor he could find and sat and cried his guilt and apologies all over the grieving older man through the night until in the cold clear light of morning, the older man had hugged the younger one, remembering that they both loved Stiles even though they had let him down so badly.

They had both shared the blame for that awful day, and he couldn't cut himself off from someone else who had loved Stiles too. He even had three of Scott's betas working as deputies, the two Hales Derek and Cora and Vernon Boyd.

In the intervening years, he had tried to date Melissa McCall which had been an utter disaster, they knew too much about each other, and the spark had never been there, not really, so now they were friends with benefits. The pair of them were comfortable having sex after their initial disconcerting fumbling which had made the two of them laugh hysterically but they just weren't in love with each other, they both knew loneliness that cut into their very skin, so a warm friendly body and soft kisses from an old and valued friend were appreciated by the both of them. Scott, bless his heart had been offended when he found out that John had no intention of marrying his mom, but the full blown Alpha temper tantrum had been averted by the forefinger and thumb of his determined mother gripping his earlobe painfully and a straight no nonsense facts of life talk which had left the young Alpha blushing, whimpering, begging for bleach so he rinse his brain out and then skulking out of the door to hide for a few days until he could face his mom or John without flushing a bright pink. He had seemingly accepted their relationships, or more likely had decided to ignore it was happening, becoming true Alpha hadn't changed Scott's fundamentally oblivious nature too much, only scowling ferociously when his mother made things obvious.

Dear God how Stiles would laugh if he heard the phrase "friends with benefits" coming out of his old man's mouth. Especially if it referred to John and Melissa, Stiles would so enjoy giving Scott shit for it. But he wasn't here to give Scott shit for it was he? Stiles didn't know anything that had happened in Beacon Hills over the last seven years, because he had never come home. Stiles had never contacted anyone, not his father, not his best friend, not his former pack mates. No one from Beacon Hills had heard from him once he had passed the boundary lines. He had sold his beloved Jeep three towns away, taken a train to San Francisco and then Stiles had disappeared off the face of the earth. No-one had been able to find him, not Danny with his electronic wizardry, not John with his police contacts and resources, and not even Peter with his supernatural networks.

The shrill ringing of his direct line was insistent and Derek shot him a surprised look, those damn eyebrows of his raised in silent enquiry as to why he was slow in picking the damn thing up.

The Sheriff sighed, gave his concerned Deputy and pack mate a lopsided grin and reached for the irritating phone, Derek could handle most things now, he was a good officer, one of John's best, the term poacher turned gamekeeper bandied about in the station in the early days of Derek's role was an insult really. The lad hadn't been a criminal, just a messed up grieving young man who didn't know how to handle the shit he had to cope with mostly alone.

John lifted the receiver and a young scared lisping voice asked in a stuttering whisper "Sheriff Stilinski?"

His fingers automatically went to the speaker button so that his Deputy could hear everything, even though he knew with Derek's enhanced senses he could hear it anyway, but it was a habit he insisted upon because not all his Deputies were werewolves. This child sounded so young, he couldn't even be sure if it was a boy or girl.

His heart sank, he hated the cases that involved kids, and his voice was impossibly gentle as he spoke "I am the Sheriff honey, what's the matter, how can I help you".

There was a pause, and the two men could hear the muffled sobbing of a very young child. The Sheriff looked at his Deputy, and was gratified to see that Derek had already moved silently to the door and beckoned to Boyd, his voice low as he told his pack mate to trace the call, then he came back to take up his previous position by the Sheriff's desk. John spared him one nod of approval before he continued speaking in that warm gentle encouraging voice

"Sweetheart, it's okay, everything's going to be okay, I'm here, can you tell me what's wrong so I can help you? I would really like to help you"

"Wha' does trace the call mean?" the crying young voice was now wary and suspicious, the stress in its tone much more evident. Both men looked at each other as surprise turned to shocked understanding. Derek spoke calmly but with a touch of compulsion "Are you Wolf little one?"

John looked at him in shock for a second at the question being asked aloud in his office but then remembered that the only Deputies actually in the station on duty tonight were either Weres themselves or were aware of the supernatural situation in Beacon Hills.

They heard panic and fear in the child's voice, "Who're you? Daddy told me to only speak to the Sheriff, Sheriff Stilinski, mustn't talk to strangers." Both men had the same mental image of the child slamming down the phone in panic if they didn't reassure the kid in time.

John reacted quickly, they couldn't let the distraught kid off the line. "It's okay Sweetheart, that's just my nice Deputy Derek but I am John Stilinski the Sheriff, you need only talk to me. Can you tell me your name and how I can help you?"

The pause grew longer and the only comfort John had was he could see Boyd returning with a piece of paper and nodding his head. Thank god they had a location now. Derek briefly checked the paper and then handed it to the Sheriff. The kid was calling from a motel about fifteen miles away from Beacon Hills. John jerked his head towards the exit and Derek was heading out, understanding his Sheriff's unspoken order to get going. His Deputy would be at the kid's location in under ten minutes.

"I can't wake Daddy" the little one finally wailed, "I've tried and tried but he won't wake up and I'm scared".

The multitude of horrific scenarios which ran through John's head didn't stop him from trying to sooth the little kid. Shit, they needed paramedics, but he had to know what situation they would be walking in on.

He tried to calm the distressed child, he had to get the kid to tell him what was going on, why had the kid asked for him specifically? Wild hope was singing in his veins battling with the terrifying fear that he might be too late. But he swept it all to the back of his mind as he focused on his job. "Its okay sweetheart we'll have an ambulance there straight away and your Daddy will be fine, but can you tell me what happened?"

The kid interrupted him in a full blown panic "No, No, only you come, only you. Daddy said only you. It has to be you. Daddy's magic dust will stop the nasty growly doggies and the bad men don't know where we are. But my Daddy won't wake up, he's just lying there and he won't wake up. I want my Daddy to wake up, please, please only you"

The colour drained from John's face and he looked up to see Derek stopped in his tracks, his muscular body still as a stone statue, neck rigid with tension as he twisted his head back towards the Sheriff, staring at him as if he had seen a ghost, and there was Cora and Boyd heading towards the Sheriff's office as if a fire had been lit underneath their backsides. All three Beta's eyes glowed as their wolves came to the fore because they could hear their human pack mate's heart start to pound heavily.

John didn't take his eyes from the blue intense gaze of Derek Hale, his Deputy's face was grim, lips pulled thin as if to keep his tongue between his teeth, and his muscular shoulders tight with strain. The Sheriff tried to hide the tension in his husky voice, he could hear his heartbeat drumming in his ears but it took a few deep breaths and two attempts before his tone was firm and soothing enough to continue the conversation with the frightened young child.

"Of course I will come sweetheart but first can you tell me your names. I need to know your names, and how was your Daddy hurt?"

The little one answered the last part of the question first and John felt nausea rise up into his throat. No child should have to witness violence. "Bad men and nasty doggies hurt my Daddy and now he won't wake up." The child drew in another breath and then as if remembering the rest of the Sheriff's questions carried on, pleading for help. "Please wake him up. Kit, my Daddy calls me Kit but I have the same name as my grandpa, my name is Linden… " then to their gut churning horror, they heard the child scream in absolute terror before they lost the connection on the phone.

The Sheriff and Deputy Derek Hale were in the lead patrol car, Deputies Boyd and Hale the younger in the following car. John had ran for that patrol car like a bat out of hell and it was only Derek's superior strength that allowed him to get to the car first and firmly declare he was driving. John hadn't argued, just buckled himself into the passenger seat and set the blues flashing. At Derek's frown, he merely grunted, "Just until we get to within a mile of the motel, it will keep people ot of our way, but no sirens" Derek shrugged his acceptance and concentrated on peeling out of the station car park as if all the devils in hell were after them.

Deputy Parrish had been left to co-ordinate the information from the motel and stay by the phone in case the child rang again so that it could be put straight through to the Sheriff in the racing patrol car. The only information they had so far was that a father and young son had booked into the motel in the early hours of the morning under the name of Ashby. The father had paid for two nights in cash and the clerk hadn't been interested enough to take any notice of them.

Derek was the first to speak, he glanced warily at the tense figure besides him. Derek could smell the anxiety, despair and guilt emanating from the man. The last time he remembered the Sheriff looking that stern and drawn was when their final resort in the search for Stiles, Derek's psychotic Uncle Peter, had reported that there had been nothing on the supernatural grapevine about the boy. Privately Derek had thought that was the day that the Sheriff had lost whatever hope he had left and had buried himself in work after one dark weekend with numerous bottles.

He cleared his throat, and saw the Sheriff's blank blue eyes slide towards him, the car now going well above the speed limits but since they were the law, in an actual patrol car and Derek could drive the car blind if he had to with only his werewolf senses as his guide, neither of them were too worried about the consequences.

Damn it, he would just say it, John knew Derek couldn't beat about the bush to save his own life,

"Whatever this is, it's bad, Cora has alerted the rest of the pack and they are going to meet us at the motel, Scott will probably be there before us, we will help the little one but I have to be honest, I thought for while this had something to do with Stiles"

John's voice was grim as he responded to the unasked prompt "What makes you think it doesn't?"

The car swerved, then was back on its correct course. "The kid said he was called Linden after his Grandfather" Derek murmured in confusion, not looking at the rigid man sitting next to him. But instead of anger the Sheriff's next words were filled with sadness and for a second Derek could scent the salty tears that filled the older man's eyes

"What do you think the L in John L Stilinski stands for?"

AN: No infringement intended.

Non compliant to the series, so everyone is alive (If I want them to be). First few chapters mainly family angsty. Selected Mature as the category because of the ongoing threat to a small child but not by family.

Warning lots of angst, (see title) some fluff.. please a werecat child, what's not to fluff.

This does not belong to me, will not ever belong to me and will never make money out of it. I am merely just enjoying playing with the characters from an imaginative tv series and spreading soul destroying sadness for personal development purposes but there again I must state that there is a fluffy werekitten, an incredibly fluffy werekitten, so much fluff on that werekitten it needs a brush.

Actually have this one planned out and should be about 8 or 9 chapters so enjoy some actiony angsty kidfic on a wet Sunday evening in May you lovely people xxx
P.s no beta, not American so if I write something too British for this let me know or even you know, let me know if you like it or if things need to be changed.
P.P.S I used the Sheriff's real name for the Kitty and their aliases, because I am just a rebel at heart...
P.P.P.S There will be a satisfactorily happyish ending because I can and because its May and there have been too many unhappy endings for me personally in May, so thats all I have to say about that.