Summary: The only way to save Stiles is to transfer the Nogitsune to another body and kill it there. The Sheriff volunteers. Drama, hurt / comfort, angst. Featuring Stiles, Scott, Sheriff Stilinski, Melissa and Derek. Written after "The Fox and the Wolf" but before "De-Void."

What Fathers Do for Their Sons

PenPatronus

Part 1 of 2

Martyr

"So how did Ethan—"

"Isaac." Melissa McCall would never admit that she loved to correct her ex-husband, not even to herself.

Scott's dad sighed. "Isaac. Right. How did Isaac and Derek meet?" He pointed at the two betas who stood talking with Scott on the opposite side of Derek's loft.

Melissa tugged on the stethoscope around her neck. "Are you trying to understand what's happening here or prepare a testimony for a prosecutor?"

"Melissa, I…" McCall dragged his fingers down his face. "I will never understand what's happening here. Do you? Honestly?"

Melissa avoided his gaze. "I understand that it will save Stiles. That's what matters."

"What matters is that a man is going to die!" McCall looked over his shoulder at the sliding iron door and the two figures talking in hushed voices there. "Granted it's a man who doesn't know his ass from a hole in the—" A smack across the cheek interrupted his sentence. Melissa's palm was so loud that everyone in the room turned and looked at them.

"You son of a bitch." Melissa's eyes looked like they were about to glow. "Don't you dare say a thing against him."

McCall grinded his teeth and he rubbed his sore cheek. "Look, Melissa, I admire what he's doing. I don't think it will work but—"

"You know what I admire about him?" Melissa snapped. "He's been like a father to my son. He has been his father."

McCall winced as if she'd slapped him again.

"All those years together in the Army… You two used to be best friends."

"Yeah! Before he—"

"Before you!" Melissa hissed. "Before your drunk ass caused that car crash the night Claudia died! You think he wanted to arrest you? He was doing his job!"

"He betrayed me!"

"He stuck his neck out for you in court. You would've had a much longer sentence if he hadn't. You would've lost your job!"

"M-Mrs. McCall?" a timid voice said. Lydia tiptoed over to them. "He's waking up."

"Excuse me. I need to do my job." Melissa swung her stethoscope over her head and followed Lydia towards the center of the room.

Allison was kneeling in front of Stiles who was chained to a chair. His face and lips were pale, his eyes weren't focused and he could barely lift his chin off of his chest. "How long was I out this time?" Stiles mumbled.

"Almost 36 hours." Allison rubbed soothing circles into his back. "How do you feel?"

"I'm not…" Stiles jumped when Melissa pressed the cold stethoscope to his chest. "I'm not sure. Is Scott – is Scott here?"

Scott heard his best friend's voice and raced over. "I'm here." He took Stiles' hand and looked at his mother. "Is he ok?"

Melissa pocketed the stethoscope and pressed her middle and forefinger on the inside of Stiles' wrist. "Maybe we should have an ambulance standing by. He should get right to the hospital when this is over."

"When what's over?" Stiles asked. He took a deep, steadying breath and lifted his head up far enough to see around the room. "Scott, what's going on?"

An oval of mountain ash, minus six inches, surrounded Stiles. There was an identical chair ten feet in front of him with a line of ash dividing the oval in half. Derek, Isaac and the Twins stood on the edge of the ash, their eyes fixed on Stiles with varying degrees of concern. Behind them Sheriff Stilinski was handing three objects to Alan Deaton: a piece of paper, his wedding ring and his police badge. Alan nodded and patted him on the shoulder. The four werewolves, Allison, Lydia and Melissa stepped aside as he approached. Tears swamped Scott's eyes. He hiccupped, coughed, sniffed. And then he threw his arms around Stilinski's neck and hugged him for a long thirty seconds.

"I'll take care of him," Scott whispered in the sheriff's ear. "I promise."

Stilinski trembled. "I know you will. Take care of yourself, too." He gently pushed Scott out to an arm's length and met his gaze with equally waterlogged eyes. "Thank you, Scott."

Scott shook his head. "Thank you," he tried to say but could only mouth the words. He pivoted, then. Scott walked into his mother's arms and hugged her, too.

"Dad?" Tears dropped one by one, every other second like clockwork, onto Stiles' pale cheeks. "Dad, what's happening?

The sheriff got down on one knee so that it was easier for his son to look him in the eye. "Stiles, do you remember what I write on your Christmas card every year?"

Stiles' fought against the restraints. "Dad, I don't understand. You're scaring me. Tell me what's going on!"

"Stiles." Stilinski suddenly he lowered his forehead and pressed it against his son's knees. He took an audible breath. "Stiles, what do I write?"

"Something – something about how you – you'd do anything for me. Dad—"

"That's right." Stilinski lifted his tear-stained face and forced a smile. "My precious son," he whispered, "there's nothing I wouldn't do to protect you. I'm proud of the man you've become. I cherish you every day. And I love you, Stiles." Stilinski leaned up and kissed his son on the cheek. "I love you, Stiles."

And then Stilinski stood up, marched across the oval and sat down in the chair. Eyes on Stiles, sitting stone still, he didn't put up any resistance as Derek and Deaton chained him down. Everyone took their positions: Lydia, Melissa and Allison took handfuls of mountain ash and closed up the entire oval. Ethan, Aiden and Isaac lined up behind Peter with their claws unsheathed and their fangs bared. Scott stood behind Stiles, just outside of the ash. The Yukimura's emerged from the shadows. Kira held her sword and her mother held a transparent jar. Both looked upset but determined. Peter Hale followed them and the three stood behind Stilinski's chair. Scott's dad folded his arms against his chest and leaned his back against the wall.

Alan Deaton stood in front of Stilinski with a book in his hands. "Are you ready?" he asked his friend.

The sheriff nodded. "Don't hesitate," he said to Kira, and then to Peter. "Make it quick."

Kira bit her bottom lip. Peter looked bored.

Deaton cleared his voice. "Here we go."

To Be Continued