Yep another crossover from me. This one have a character death so turn back if it's not your cup of tea. Not beta read and I haven't watched Teen Wolf yet. Just read the fan fictions

Stiles knew this day would come sooner or later, what with his dad being the Sheriff of the town and all but he would rather it be way later where he is more prepared for it. Even if he would never be prepared to relieve the experience of seeing another black coffin being lowered into the ground. Never in a thousand year would he be prepared to once again stand in the cemetery, clad in a black suit that signified his mourning as the coffin that contained his dad's body was lowered into the ground, to be buried six feet under beside the grave that belonged to the love of his life.

Yet despite his best wishes, it still happened no matter what he had done to prevent it.

His dad is now dead and the worst part of it is because it was his fault. It was him whom Theo was after and his dad was the main piece that have to go in order for Theo achieve his objective of obtaining Void Stiles. Stiles could not help but think he was not that far from the truth because his dad had been his tether to his sanity after losing his mother. So going after his dad had been the easiest way for Theo to achieve his goal of drawing out the darkness inside of Stiles.

Never had he felt this lost. It was easier to deal with the death of his mother when his dad was there to support him but now he is in the same spot once again. Only this time, it is for his dad's funeral instead and he have no one to support him this time around. His dad was the stone that had anchored him to the living after his mother's death, the reason why Stiles had continued on living despite the crippling lost and now that the tether that bind him had been severed, Stiles is drifting away.

He is officially an orphan now and the world suddenly felt bleak.

He felt so numb as he stood over the polished wood of the coffin that contained the lifeless body of his father. The eyes that used to glimmer with mischief and mirth are now devoid of it, appearing as corrosive rust instead of the usual shade of molten amber. He could feel it, the gaping chasm that had opened in his chest. It left him feeling breathless and empty with nothing to fill it once again after having the warmth be ripped away so cruelly.

The funeral was a grand thing, a formal funeral with full honors, as expected for someone of his father's station, more so when he had died in the line of duty. Many people had attended it to give their final respect to the meritorious Sheriff that had served the public well. Condolence upon condolence were offered by those who attended and Stiles was too numb to really care about appearing as rude to them for not giving the appropriate reaction to them. He is just sick of the pitying look people sent his way.

He was glad though, for the presence of his father's deputies during the funerals. Most of them are people he had grown up around. They had seen him toddling around the station in only his diapers and some had even changed said diapers when his dad was out. They knew he needed his space to mourn for his father's death, so they had kept the well-wishing people at bay as Stiles gave his father his last respect.

Stiles wanted to cry. He wanted to rage about the unfairness of the situation. He wanted to chase all of these people away so that he could openly cry out his grieve in peace. But he held all of it in, all of these conflicting emotions that tore him apart from the inside because he knew that nothing would change. Even if he had cried himself dry or if his tears turned into blood, his dad would not return to life. Nothing would change even if he tore his throat from screaming.

So he is left with feeling empty, too tired to move on from the crippling blow of not only losing his mom but his dad too. Standing in front of the open casket, Stiles trailed the deceptively peaceful face of his father with his eyes, noting all of the lines and wrinkles that had appeared due to age and many sleepless nights of going through countless case files in order to make Beacon Hills a safe place to live in.

Stiles had seen this face morphing into varying types of expressions; from blinding happiness to heart wrenching sorrow. He had been there to witness his father being at the top of his life, at his peak and Stiles had also been there to bear witness of him being at his lowest. Stiles was more than aware that his dad was not perfect and he also knew that he tried to be so, to do better so that he can fix the damages he had done during his drunken grieving for his wife's death.

He loves his father and Stiles knew that this feeling was mutual because his dad always tried to show that he does cares for him.

Yet after that one fateful night in the wood, everything had changed for them. The white lies and omission of small miscellaneous details turned into outright lies and Stiles could not stop it once he started. He lied to keep his father safe, so that he would not be dragged into the supernatural mayhem when he already had so much on his plate to begin with. So he lied and lied until he does not know which one was the truth and which one was the lie anymore.

But despite all of his efforts keep him out, his dad always managed to get involved somehow, either due to his duty as a Sheriff or because Stilinski men seems to have rotten luck. They are either the cause of the troubles or are too nosy to keep their nose out of other's business. They are nosy bastard after all, such was said by those who know them or were exposed to their existence. But it looks like this time was one too many and his father had finally run out of luck to come out of it with his live.

Smiling blithely at the notion of them being nosy bastard, Stiles sank to his knees in front of the polished wood that contained the lifeless body of his father. He stared at the lax face for a long moment, trying to imprint the peaceful expression of his dad for the last time before he is buried six feet under beside his mother.

"I hope you're happy up there dad. You really deserved it. Tell mom I love her."

Feeling his breath hitching, his voice trailed off as his throat constricted painfully, preventing him to say anything else due to the emotions welling up in his chest. A burning sensation spread over his chest and Stiles squeezed his eyes shut as he balled his fingers into tight fists over the edge of the coffin, gripping the solid wood like a lifeline.

He is aware of what is happening, well used to the telltale signs of an incoming panic attack but he cannot let it consume him, not yet. There are just so many things he wanted to tell his dad, thing that he had not gotten the chance to say, things that he does not have the courage to tell him about. He has to say it now because this is the last chance he has to say it to his face, even if his dad is dead. He just need to have the closure now before it is too late.

Minutes passed and managed to get himself under control once again. Letting out a soft exhale of shuddering breath, he unfurled the balled fingers to lay it flat over his father's unmoving chest. Just for a brief moment, he wished for it to still be rising up and down, drawing in breath that signified that he is alive but such was an empty wish. Taking in a couple of deep fortifying breath, Stiles opened his eyes again to gaze at his father's serene face. His eyes stung with unbidden tears because this hurts. It hurts so much that it is just too painful to breath normally.

"I love you dad, both you and mum so much that it hurts." Biting on the inside of his cheeks, Stiles struggled to keep the feeble control he has over his emotions.

"What should I do dad? I don't know where to start. I can't live without you dad. Please dad. I need you." He was already breathing through his mouth, trying to get in as much oxygen as possible into his suddenly collapsing lungs. He is left gasping desperately through the tears that burned his eyes.

"It should had been lying here today dad. I was the one who he was after. It was supposed to be me dad, not you." Because it should be him in that coffin, it was meant to be him to begin with. So why does life have to be so cruel on putting the one thing he cared for in that wooden structure?

"It's my fault that you died dad. All of these are my faults. I'm sorry dad. I'm so sorry for everything."

For lying to him.

For getting into trouble.

For making him worry all the time.

For going against his father's words

For being a bad son.

Despite his best attempt to hold it in, to keep the tears at bay, it still falls down in big fat droplets that stained the pristine suit his father was dressed in, the same one his father had worn for his mother's funeral. And that reminder sting. He silently cried over his father's body, body shivering from the force of the sobs that he tried to muffle. He did not make any noise, just letting the tears flow out from his grieving heart.

Stiles completely ignored the world around him as he cried his heart out.

He ignored the pitying looks that people sent his ways.

He ignored their murmured words of sympathy.

He ignored their offers of comfort.

He ignored all of it because all that had mattered to him is currently lying cold in this wooden coffin and about to be buried six feet under beside his mother. Nothing else held meaning anymore because the one thing that had kept him alive to this point are now dead. His pillar of support had crumbled and he is left flailing like a newborn fawn as his world crumbled to pieces around him.

There would be no more cooking up a healthy meal for his father. There would be no more bickering with his father about eating healthy. There would be no more scolding from his dead for staying up late. There would be no more of the warms hug that shielded him from the world when his nightmares haunted him. There would be no more of that small smile that never failed to make him feel so loved. There would be no more of the light crinkling around his father's eyes that showed just how proud his dad is of him.

And there would be no more of forehead kisses when his father went to check up on him after getting back from a late night shift.

All of that had come to an end with the death of his dad. Stiles is devastated because all he had left in this world was his dad and now he lost him too. He is an orphan and he had been there to witness the death of both of his parents, to see the life fading away from their eyes as they heaved their last breath. He is barely out of his teenage life and he is already so alone in this world, already so much.

Amidst his grief and dwindling dark thoughts, he jolted up in surprise when a hand settled at the back of his neck, a familiar gesture that his parents used to do in order to calm him down whenever he was worked up or at the edge of a panic attack. The weight of the hand was distinctly familiar and it tickled at the edge of his childhood memories. The thumb rubbing circles into the taut muscles of his neck managed to sooth the tension out of him is also something that are familiar to him. There's only one other person who had ever done this to him other than his parents and that person is his mother's brother.

Stiles did not bother to turn around in order to face him nor did he bother to stand up and greet him properly. If anything, Stiles just sagged under the hand that are doing wonder to his neck and leaned against the pair of legs that he knew belonged to his uncle. No words were exchanged between them despite it had been years since they had last physically seen each other because for some reason; his uncle always managed to understand the words that Stiles had left unspoken.

And Stiles is very grateful of it right now. He does not want to speak so soon after crying his eyes out over his deceased father. Closing his eyes, Stiles rubbed his tearstained cheek against the pant of the leg he is leaning against, staining the fabric with his drying tears. The hand on his neck tightened briefly but it did not set off the alarms Stiles' head because Stiles knew his uncle would never do anything to harm him. It relaxed just as soon as it tightened and the hand moved up to smooth out the wild mane that is Stiles' hair. The two of them stayed like that for a couple of minutes and Stiles tuned out the words spoken by his uncle to his father, already knowing what he is talking about and letting his uncle have the privacy of giving his final respect to his dad.

"Stiles." His uncle called for his attention and Stiles merely hummed absent mindedly as the fingers in his hair soothed him.

"Do you want to come live with me?"

The question brought up many prospects to him, opening many doors for him to start anew, to finally get out of this accursed town that had taken away so many things from him and leave behind all of the painful memories that continue to haunt him. Thinking about it, it is surprising just how easily it had been for him to take a shine to the idea of leaving this town, his home, his childhood world behind. Perhaps it is because there is nothing more that chained him to this town.

Yes, he would miss Melissa because that woman is practically his second mother growing up and he would even miss Scott too. Despite what had happened between them during Theo's agenda, Scott is still first and foremost his best friend, his brother. He would definitely miss Lydia because she will forever be the only girl he had loved, even if that love is now more of a familial love and also the ragtag group of teenagers he called pack. The thought of leaving them behind actually hurt because he cared for them but Stiles cannot stay in this town anymore.

He cannot live in the town that reminded him so much of what he had lost. At every corner of the town, he could see the ghosts of the memories he had made with his parents and it would definitely drive him crazy if he stayed in the house that are just so full of his memories of his parents. He needed a change of scenery so that he could heal, to be away from things that reminded him of his lost. He needed a new place to have a fresh start.

So with a timid nod, he accepted the offer made by his uncle.

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