Title: Bitter Dregs
Amnesty Challenge: #23, Secrets
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Rating: G
Length: 1808 words
Author's notes: Deputy Tara Graeme appeared in S3E3 "Fireflies", no spoilers for the episode in the story other than her name being used.
Summary: Sometimes Sheriff Stilinski felt useless, as both a sheriff and a father.

The call came ten minutes before the end of his shift.

He was at his desk, trying to make a dent in the never ending pile of paperwork, and purposely didn't answer the phone. Whatever it was, it could wait; he wanted to get out of the office on time for once, he hadn't made it home for dinner in days but he was determined that tonight that would change.

The phone had been easy to ignore, the incessant knocking? Not so much.

He didn't even bother to look up to see who it was, just ground out a gruff "busy" and continued on filling out the forms.

"Sheriff? Sheriff, you need to hear this." It was the tone of voice that got his attention. It wasn't 'deputy to sheriff' or even 'frustrated underling to annoying boss' but rather the terribly familiar 'cop delivering bad news to family member.' It was a tone he was well familiar with, but never from the receiving end.

All in all he had to have the news repeated to him three times before all the details sank in.

Stiles' jeep had been found abandoned at the side of the road.

The passenger door appeared to have been pried off its hinges.

There was blood on the steering wheel as well as the dashboard and a bloody handprint on the driver side window.

There was no sign of Stiles or Scott, although items belonging to both boys were found inside the jeep.

He stood up, pen still dangling from his hand and the half finished report still sitting on the desk.

He needed to get to the scene.

He needed to find his son.

He needed the tightness in his chest to go away.

Later

Calling for an ambulance was completely unnecessary and the suggestion he go to the hospital was utterly ridiculous- he was going to fire someone over this. Or at least yell at them. Loudly and multiple times.

"Look, I got dizzy, but I'm fine now. I need to get out there, I have to find my son!"

He was seriously going to fire every single idiot in his damn office. Why were they standing around, staring at him? They shouldn't have wasted time and resources on him when Stiles was out there. Missing.

"I'm going now. Get out of my way." He shoved past the crowd of morons, only to stop when Melissa McCall appeared in the doorway.

"Melissa," he began, but he didn't know what to say. Obviously she'd heard the news or she wouldn't be there; the grapevine in Beacon Hills worked with a cutthroat efficiency when it had to.

"Our boys will be fine," she said, her voice firm and unwavering. "They'll be found and will be all right, I just know they will. You need to take care of yourself right now."

"That is my son out there! And yours too! I need-"

"You need to be okay, Stiles would never forgive you otherwise. They said you passed out. There are already... people at looking for Stiles and Scott. You can coordinate the investigation from here while I look you over."

Despite being taller, stronger, and even armed there was something about her stance that made the sheriff decide against pushing past her. "Get me a damn radio," he shouted to the office at large as he sank into a chair.

"You're doing the right thing," Melissa assured him as she grabbed his arm and began taking his pulse. "They'll find him."

She seemed so certain he almost believed her.

Almost.

Later

No one went off duty. He didn't ask anyone to stay, they just... didn't go home when their shifts ended and it was getting crowded as more and more people kept arriving. Sheriffs and deputies from nearby counties, officers from the highway patrol, the local volunteer fire fighters, parents from Stiles' school. So many people.

He should be out there, helping with the door-to-doors, or at least in charge of the radio coordinating the search but instead he was still at his desk, useless. You're too close to this, Sheriff, they kept telling him whenever he tried to find something to do, We'll find him. Don't worry Sheriff, we'll find him. And, intellectually, he knew they were right. He was a parent in this case, not the town's sheriff, a concerned party instead of law enforcement, but it burned to stay back and not be able to help, to only be able to sit and worry.

"Drink this," Melissa ordered, pressing a cup of tea into his hands.

He was going to refuse but she grimaced and pursed her lips and it was such a familiar look- the 'you're going to do what I say, buster, because you don't even want to consider what will happen if you don't' face- that he found himself taking a sip before he even realized what he was doing. It was terribly sweet, probably in an attempt to help stave off shock or some kind of nonsense like that, but still horribly bitter.

"Those boys," he huffed, wrapping his hands around the mug.

"Trust in your officers, they're good people. They'll find them. Our boys will be walking through the doors before we know it."

"I trust them," he muttered into tea. He trusted his deputies, he did. "It's just... Stiles." His son's name came out like a sigh, although if it was of frustration or despair, he wasn't sure.

Later

Melissa wasn't telling him something. She was worried, that much was obvious, but not desperate. Parents with missing kids gave off a horrible despondent air, he should know, he'd seen it far too many times in his work. He'd felt it that night Stiles had disappeared off the lacrosse field and he was experiencing it now. But Melissa, she... wasn't. She was upset and concerned, that was easy to see, but it almost seemed like it was more for him than for Scott and Stiles. No matter how it appeared, he must be reading her wrong because that couldn't be right. That shouldn't be right.

What kind of woman worried more about a grown man, who she could see with her own eyes was safe and sound, than her own, missing son?

It didn't make any sense. So many things didn't make sense anymore. Murders becoming commonplace? Animal attacks this frequent? Teenager after teenager being declared missing?

He was the sheriff, he was supposed to keep Beacon Hills safe.

Who was he kidding, he couldn't keep his own son safe.

"Sheriff?" Graeme hovered in the doorway, staring at the file in her hand like she was worried it would explode.

It took a second before he could grind out a reply. "Just tell me."

"Reports are back."

"And?"

"The blood found at the scene matched Stiles' blood type." Graeme turned, addressing Melissa as well. "None of it appears to have belonged to Scott."

Of course. Of course it was Stiles'. That boy could find trouble locked up in a padded room, which, come to think of it, was sounding pretty good right about now.

Melissa looked at him, her face pinched with concern. She was about to speak when her phone began to blast "Bad Moon Rising."

The sheriff refused to get his hopes up as he watched her take a few steps back as she pulled it out to answer it. "Hello?" He sighed. Not Scott then. But who? She obvious knew the caller well enough to program their number into her phone and it was unlikely she'd have a ringtone like that for work... His musing came to an abrupt halt when he saw the tension leave her as she listened to whatever the person on the other end was saying. "All right. Yes. No, that makes sense. I'm with the sheriff now, I'll let him know. Thank you. We'll meet you there."

"Let me know what?" he asked once she'd hung up.

"They found the boys. Stiles is a little banged up, nothing too serious I don't think, but since it's better to be safe than sorry he's going to get checked out at the emergency room and we'll meet them there."

"Oh, thank god." He grabbed his coat and keys. "Thank god. I'll drive."

Later

"I just want to go home and get cleaned up," Stiles complained.

"I know, kiddo, but that's not going to happen. The doctor wants you here for observation for eight hours so get those shoes off and get your butt back in that bed before I handcuff you to it."

"Oh, kinky." Stiles was going to try to argue his case some more but the sheriff just raised his eyebrow and crossed his arms. Always one to know how to pick his battles, Stiles capitulated and plunked back down on the bed and toed off his shoes. "Fine. You win."

"Well, now that that's settled, want to tell me what happened out there today?"

"It's not a big deal, dad. It was just Scott being stupid like always. Or me being stupid. Or both of us. Or something. What's in the cup?" he asked, pointing to the styrofoam cup the sheriff had abandoned on the table when Stiles had tried to make a break for it.

"Coffee. And, no, you can't have any of it." Grabbing it, he took a long sip, just because he could.

"You shouldn't be drinking coffee this late. Early. Whatever."

"My son was missing for hours, I'm entitled a little coffee."

"Dad."

"Stiles."

Stiles huffed but had the grace to look slightly ashamed.

"Are you ready to tell me where you were? The entire force was looking for you. They were all worried."

"I'm sorry about that, I am. It was stupid. We were stupid. There was... a dog in the road and I swerved to miss it but lost control and crashed. Then Scott had the brilliant idea of taking a shortcut to get back to town instead of following the road. We got lost. I'm sorry." Stiles leaned back, sinking into the pillow and closed his eyes. He looked exhausted. And even though the sheriff knew he was lying, he didn't have the heart to call him on it. Not now, not when there was still flakes of dried blood all over his son's face. Not when the gnawing fear of those hours when Stiles was missing was still so fresh.

What had happened? And who had called Melissa? How had the boys gotten all the way to the hospital without one of his deputies spotting them?

He had so many questions.

Not for the first time he felt like an outsider not only in his own town, but in his own son's life. He gulped down the end of his coffee and winced at the bitterness of it all.