"Hello, Mrs. McCall. This is a courtesy call from Beacon Hills Pharmacy. We have three refills of your son's inhaler waiting to be picked up. Its been a few months and we wanted to make sure that he was taking the medication. If there's been a change in his treatment, please call us back and let us know so we can cancel the prescription. Thank you."

Melissa McCall replayed the message from her voicemail again. "Scott hasn't picked up his inhaler refills." She said it aloud, to no one. "Scott hasn't picked up his inhaler refills in three months." She said it again to herself, just be sure she got it and it didn't float to the back of her mind when Scott managed to avoid a concrete conversation with her. Again.

Melissa looked at the microwave clock. It was 7:52 pm. Lasagna and salad were waiting on the table. Scott should be home soon, with the milk he promised to pick up for dinner. Melissa had agreed to switch her shift with a co-worker and was able to work the 7 to 3 instead of her usual 7 to 7 overnight. It was a nice change of pace for once. She was looking forward to making dinner and eating with her son, a rare occasion lately. Her shifts at work were at odd hours for the past two years, ever since Scott started high school. Melissa had felt he was ok spending one or two nights a week on his own or at the Stilinskis. But with the beginning of his junior year, their paths seemed to cross even less. They were becoming more like roommates and less like mother and son lately. She needed to make sure that changed. Scott needed a mom now more than ever, if their conversation before the semi formal was any indication.

Melissa got up from her kitchen chair with a sudden impulse. Walking into the living room, she went to the bookcase and took out the photo album, its brown cover worn and old. She brought it back to the kitchen table and sat down again. She flipped through the pages, a small smile growing across her face as she relived small moments in their lives. First smile, first steps, first day of school, first ER visit, first sleepover, and soon, first lacrosse game, once she got the photos off her digital camera printed out. So many firsts in Scott's life were such great memories for her, especially after her husband left. Her ex was never in any of the photos. Melissa used to think it was such a shame that he always played photographer and never posed with Scott. Now, it was more of a blessing, not being reminded of him in their lives over and over again.

Still flipping through the pages, she watched Scott grow up all over again. She hadn't done this in awhile, it stirred up all those maternal feelings she usually tried to keep at bay since Scott protested how embarrassing it was. She internally 'awwwwwed' at her son in all his awkwardness, remembering how he would smile at her, like she was the only person in the world.

He really was a good son. 'Things could be a lot worse,' she reasoned, other than the recent bad grades and elusiveness. 'He's just growing up.'

Again, glancing up at the microwave, Melissa saw that it was almost 8:30. She made an annoyed sound and grabbed her cell, ready to call Scott when he burst through the front door.

"Hey Mom, sorry I'm late, I didn't finish until like half an hour ago but I still remembered to stop and get the milk," he said as he dropped his bag and shrugged off his coat. He came into the kitchen, holding the half gallon of milk triumphantly, smiling. Melissa internally started to 'awwwww'.

"Thank you. Dinner. Sit." Melissa pointed to the food and the table with a smile.

"You madelasagna? Like from scratch?" Scott said incredulously.

It had been awhile since Melissa had really cooked a homemade meal and she knew Scott adored the family lasagna recipe. A confident smile began to grow across her lips. "Well, I figured making a whole pan will give us plenty of leftovers for the rest of the week." Then looking at Scott's plate already overflowing with food, she continued sarcastically, "or maybe a day at the rate you're going. That's a lot of food. You sure you'll finish that?" Melissa asked, as they both sat down at the kitchen table.

Scott nodded, his mouth full. "Yup, I'm starving." Melissa made a mental note to check her grocery bills. Had they gone up recently?

"Did you make peanut butter cookies too?" Scott actually sniffed the air like she spent the entire afternoon in the kitchen.

"I bought some. They're put away in the pantry." She looked at Scott quizzically. "How did you know?"

"Oh, uh, no reason. Just a lucky guess," Scott replied, trying to shrug it off. He turned his focus back to his half empty plate.

"Geez, go easy on that, you'll get sick eating so fast." The rate Scott shoveled food into his mouth was beginning to put his father to shame. She laughed quietly, remembering.

Scott noticed. "What?" he asked indignantly

Melissa shook her head slightly. "Its nothing. Its just, I remember when it could turn into World War III trying to get you to finish half of what's on your plate and now I have to fight you to leave leftovers for lunch."

Scott smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, well, you didn't make me lasagna every night, maybe I would have."

They made up a few moments of small talk about their days, when Scott's phone made a noise. He checked it quickly and typed a response. He looked at his mother and abashedly said, "Sorry, its, uh, Stiles."

Melissa stared at his phone for a second. "Oh that reminds me," she started. She picked up her own cell phone, dialed her voicemail and placed the phone on speaker, laying it down between herself and Scott.

She watched his face as the message from the pharmacy played. Scott listened to the message, his eyes focusing on the phone as if it had suddenly become a deadly weapon.

"So, wanna tell me why you haven't gotten your inhalers for the past three months? And why the co pays are still coming out of my checking account?" She put her best Don't-Mess-With-Me-Mom look on and waited for a good answer.

She could tell Scott was trying to come up with something to explain it away, but he was taking too long so she knew it wouldn't be the truth. Melissa was getting fed up and the "awwwww" moment had long since disappeared.

"Mom, I -" he began and his phone beeped again. Immediately, he grabbed the phone to check the text that came in. As he began texting a response she reached over and took the phone out of her son's hands.

"Stiles can wait. We're talking about this. Now." She turned off the phone and placed it on the far side of the table. "Why aren't you using your inhalers? You know your asthma got worse after you got bronchitis freshman year. And then everytime you'd go to lacrosse practice? I think you used your inhaler more than your lacrosse stick on the field! Asthma doesn't go away overnight, Scott. I thought, maybe you had gotten better about using it and all that training you tried to do over the summer was paying off and helping you get a bit stronger, but I don't understand how you've been playing at the level you've been playing without your medicine. You're co-captain of the team for god's sake! How does that happen?" Melissa felt exasperated at the blank stare her son gave her. "Well?"

Scott was wrestling with something, inside his head. She could tell by the way his fists began to ball up and how he began to bite his lower lip, eyes shifting from side to side. She saw him take in a breath and then he spoke. "I guess, I just got better? I just...started not to need them? I forgot about the automatic refill they get." He looked at her, "I can pay you back for them."

Melissa was sure by look she was giving her son that he knew she wasn't buying it. He sighed. "Look, I don't know either, but I swear, I feel fine! I still keep an inhaler in my bag just in case. And I'm not on drugs, I promise! Just please don't worry about me?" He looked at her apologetically.

"I'm your mom. I'm supposed to worry about you. It's kinda my job," she gave him a wry smile. "I believe you, but I'm making you an appointment with Dr. Hax just to be on the safe side. Don't make that face at me, you're going. The last thing you need is to get a surprise asthma attack outta - " Melissa stopped. Outside, they both heard an animal howl.

Melissa furrowed her brows. "What's that?" She looked at Scott, who had froze, his face tense. 'That's odd,' she thought as she caught his expression. She got up from her chair and went to cross the room to the kitchen window. "I'm sure its just a coyote or something. Almost sounds like its right outside the door." She heard Scott get up behind her and place his dishes in the sink. She turned around in time to see him stalk out of the kitchen in silence. "Hey, we're not done here yet!" She went after her son, who was grabbing his discarded jacket and backpack from the floor. As she approached him, she reached out for his arm. "What's the matter? We didn't even have dessert yet."

Scott wouldn't look at her, couldn't look at her, it seemed. "Just...I'm gonna just go to bed, ok?"

"No! It's not ok. You were fine just a minute ago. Look at me," she pleaded. She brought her hand to his cheek and made him bring his head up to meet her eyes. "Please, you can tell me if something's bothering you." She wanted to make him understand that this was sincere and not just some sappy parent line from a bad TV show.

Again, they both heard the howl, more insistent than before. They both turned their heads to look at the closed front door, half expecting something to come right through any moment. She felt a tremor run through Scott and she looked back at him. She sucked in air, shock audible in her gasp. Scott jerked his head back to her, worried look on his face.

And bright, gold eyes. She saw Scott's eyes flash to an iridescent golden color as he looked to the front door.

"Scott what is wrong with your eyes?" she didn't mean to let the panic she felt show in her voice.

Scott squeezed his eyes shut. "Nothing! I'm just, just tired!" He tried to turn away towards the stairs but Melissa was having none of it. Not this time. She was too stubborn and well rested to let this go tonight.

She grabbed his arm as he went to take the first steps up the staircase. "Let me see your eyes! What's wrong with them? And Don't. Lie. To. Me." She spat out the last sentence as she reached out to get a closer look at his face.

Scott was sweating now. She could see a sheen of sweat on his forehead. He kept squeezing his eyes shut, looking anywhere but at her. He reached up to grab her hands on the sides of his face and pulled them away. "Mom! I just have to go to bed, OK?," he growled, teeth clenched. He ran up the stairs. She heard his door slam.

'Did he just growl at me?' Melissa thought. She continued up the stairs and found herself at Scott's door. She knocked.

There was no answer.

"Scott?" she called softly. "Can I please come in?"

Still no answer. She tried the doorknob. He had locked it.

Melissa got angry. Usually, she would give up by now; chalk the behavior up to boys being boys. Scott can't lock her out now, not like her ex husband did. She may have given up on him, but she can't allow herself to give up on Scott.

She walked briskly down the hall to the bathroom. In the drawer, she found a nail she kept there, to fiddle with some of the old locks in the house. Back at Scott's door, she inserted the nail into the hole in the middle of the doorknob until she heard a click.

"Scott?" she called again. "Scott, I'm coming in." She hesitated a small moment. She really didn't want to walk in on him doing...something she really didn't want to think about.

Still no answer. She opened the door. Scott wasn't there.

The desk lamp was on, but that was the only light in the room. His backpack was on the floor, tossed without care, books spilling out. The window was wide open, a breeze moving the old blue curtains.

"Why is the window open?" she exclaimed. "Does he even care how much my oil bills are gonna go up?" She marched over to the window, reaching up to slam the window shut. Until she noticed the marks on the sill.

Deep gouges decorated the wooden sill, made by something sharp, she guessed. She leaned closer and traced the marks with her finger tips. Some of the marks were older, but the deepest ones seemed to be most recent. How she knew, she wasn't sure. She looked out the window for any sign of her son, only to be met with a long empty driveway. Melissa could see the porch down below and saw her son's bike was still there.

She stood up. "Where would he go at 9:00 pm on a school night on foot?" she mused. She turned to leave the room, intent on finding out what was going on when she saw it. Near the door to his room, wedged between the wall and his computer desk was a white plastic dog bowl. She picked it up. Written in big block letters made of out Sharpie ink, was the name "Scott".

"What the hell?" She turned it over. Reading the bottom of the bowl, she found new resolve and stormed out of the bedroom and ran down the stairs. She grabbed her keys and cell phone and Scott's cell phone, which was still on the kitchen table.

'If Scott's not going to tell me what's going on, I'm going to someone who will. And I won't leave til I get an answer,' Melissa thought to herself. She left the house, slamming the front door.