"Nana Becca where are you? We've been worried sick. " the young male voice sounded frantic "Dad is just parking the car, I couldn't wait for him. Are you okay? Why didn't you answer your phone? We haven't been able to get hold of you for over ten days. We had to drive for nearly six of those days to get from North Cali because there's nothing flying in or out of this stupid place. Not even stupid freaking helicarriers which fall out of the sky on the poor fools who live in this hell hole. None of that falling shit, er sorry Nana, I mean debris damaged the neighbourhood did it? Five days on the I-80 E Nana, five days! Don't be dead. You better not be dead or I will find an actual necromancer to turn you into a Zombie and make you watch the Star Wars Prequels ad infinitum. Swear to whatever God you want, I will do it if you're dead Nana. Don't be dead. Don't be dead."

Did this kid actually stop to take a breath at any time, ever? The rant continued

"This stupid city is freaking insane. First there was an Alien invasion, actual Viking Gods having a smack down, muscly de-iced Captain Corpse and his merry band of a green berserker, flying weaponised tin can, Robin Hood in purple tights and the deadliest Maid Marion in history, then you have got some pyjama clad web slinging vigilante and now this "super-secret-spy-take-over- the-world-oops-we dropped-our-flying-ships-on-the-city-our-bad" nonsense. You aren't safe in this hellhole. That's it Nana, you are coming to live with us in Beacon Hills if I have to get Dad to arrest you to do it. Don't think I can't trump up some charges and make them stick…"

The kid finally seemed to run out of breath at the front door, either that or he couldn't turn the key in the lock and work his mouth at the same time.
How the hell he had managed all those words whilst running up the three flights to the apartment because the elevator was broken was a complete mystery.

At the first sound of the key in the lock, the dark figure had risen to his feet as poised and deadly as a swaying cobra.

"Now you just cut that out" the little old lady growled fearlessly at the muscular figure, "that's my great grandson…" before she could continue the great grandson launched himself through the doorway and landed face first on the wooden floor as he tripped over his own feet. The kid looked like all of 147 pounds of pale skin and fragile bones in his plaid shirt and jeans.

The dark figure risked a quick look at the old lady, one eyebrow rising in disbelief, his professional assessment told him that the kid's mouth was probably his best weapon and only defence. He relaxed his threatening posture slowly as he allowed the first stirrings of amusement that he had felt in a very long time.

The old lady was shaking her head in fond exasperation.

"Ouch Nana" the disgruntled grumble brought a wicked grin to the old woman's face. For just a second she looked like she had when she was a teenager herself, that same evil smirk that all the siblings had worn when they were up to no good.

Her eyes were laughing as she drawled with utter fake sympathy in a thick Brooklyn accent.

"Does Nana's little Mischief need her to kiss his owies"

The kid raised his head and glared at her. "I hate you so much right now but you are still coming to Beacon Hills", he began to raise himself up only to catch sight of the menacing figure standing near the picture window.

He yelped and fell backwards on to his ass.

An amused snort came from the direction of the menacing figure but his face remained blandly terrifying.

The kid ignored him. Instead he turned to face the old woman with a triumphant smirk. What?

"Ha, got you now Nana. I don't need to trump up any illegal activity, you've got a drug dealer in your apartment"

The menacing figure in the grey clothes, cap, and gloved hand forgot to menace for a second as he realised what the kid had said. Wait what?

The kid continued, oblivious to the offended glower that emanated from said drug dealer. Seriously decades as an utter bad ass and now he gets compared to some low-life pusher by a mouthy teenager.

"Just wait til Dad comes in. He got you that license for medical marijuana to stop you getting into situations with dealers Nana, why the hell would you invite one into your home?"

The boy's dark eyes widened as his brain seemed to finally catch up with his mouth. He leapt in front of the old woman as if his scrawny ass could protect her from any threat.

"Nana, what the hell, you've got a drug dealer in your living room?" he half yelled half whispered, then turned to point an accusing finger at the bemused so called drug dealer.

"Dude, shame on you taking advantage of an old lady. Just so you know, my Dad, he's a Sheriff and he's on his way up now and he will arrest your grungy ass if you don't get gone before he gets here", his hands making a shooing motion as he hissed threateningly or at least tried to.

The kid watched as the damned drug dealer ignored him and turned to the old woman instead with the kind of expression his Dad habitually wore when he was summoned to the High School or came out of Parent/ Teachers events.

"Damn it Rebecca Barnes you been using Muggles again. Ya know Ma woulda boxed your ears" The deep voice had a strange mix of Brooklyn and Russian.

The kid's eyes flicked between the two adults. He rubbed at the buzz cut as his confusion grew worse. "What the he..ck does Harry Potter have to do with anything?" he squeaked.

The two males scowled at each other with an utter lack of comprehension.

"Is this Harry Potter the local Pusher?" the deep voice was getting growly again. He had a name now so he could warn the scum off from going near the old woman

"Harry Potter's a British wizard at a magic High School Dude" was the singularly unhelpful response.

The tilt of the head, slow exhale of breath and unimpressed raised eyebrow was the same thing his Mom used to do and his Nana still did. Proof that this creep had been taking advantage of his Nana for some time. The kid's eyes narrowed.

But the scary guy seemed to give up on that as a lost cause and instead intoned with exasperation

"I was talking about Mary Jane, loco weed, Indian hay, love weed, bambalacha, mohasky, moocah or even grass kid"

It didn't help that the damned old lady outright howled with laughter. She was literally clutching her sides.

"Cannabis, Stiles, the gentleman is talking about cannabis, using terms that were in use when Nana Becca was just a little older than you", the calm voice of Sheriff Stilinski cut through the tension and the sound of laughter like a sharpened blade.

Rebecca Proctor, nee Barnes, straightened up and moved to stand beside the unknown male. She took his ungloved hand in hers and patted it gently, then took a deep breath and turned to her grandson in law and her great grandson. Her smile was wickedly gleeful despite the touch of sorrow lingering in her eyes.

"Boys, meet my big brother, James Buchanan Barnes. He's been the brainwashed and deep frozen patsy of Hydra since the War. He came by to visit after a little scuffle with his best friend gave him his memory back. Now sit your asses down at the table while I get us some coffee."

The kid's eyes lit up with glee as he asked innocently. "Nana, can we have some of your special brownies too?"

"Rebecca Barnes" "Nana Becca" rang out simultaneously from the outraged older males.

Whilst the adults were distracted, the kid smirked with satisfaction. No way would either his Dad or the miraculous Barnes brother let her stay in this dangerous dealer filled place now.

Yep, Nana Bec would be coming to Beacon Hills after all.

AN:

Couldn't resist the title when I found out what one of the slang words for Pot was in the thirties... Love it. Wonder if JK did it on purpose?...

My keyboard takes no account of Canon, timelines, or actual realistic issues caused by brain wiping.