Stay With Me

Chapter Eleven: Disturbing

"If Jackson doesn't know what he's doing, then he probably doesn't know that someone's controlling him," Allison told Stiles and Scott over the phone. The boys were still in the sheriff's station, having not been allowed to leave after they'd found Jackson there.

"Or he doesn't remember it," added Scott.

"What if it's the same kind of thing that happened with Lydia when she took off from the hospital?" wondered Stiles.

"He'd have to forget everything," realized Scott. "The murder, getting rid of the blood..."

"He had help with one thing, though, the video," said Stiles. "Someone else helped him forget that."

"Whoever's controlling him!" Scott told Stiles.

"Are you sure Jackson has no clue about any of this?" asked Allison uncertainly.

"He thinks he's still becoming a werewolf, and that being with Lydia somehow delayed the whole thing," Stiles rolled his eyes as he spoke. 

"So...do we try and convince him he's not?" wondered Allison.

"If it helps us find out who's controlling him, then yeah," nodded Scott. 

"You think he'll talk to us, after what we did?" asked Allison.

"Yeah, it's us," shrugged Stiles. "He'll talk to us, right?" he looked over to Scott.

<<<<<<>>>>>>

"You will not go within fifty feet of Jackson Whittemore," Sheriff Stilinski read a restraining order off of a clipboard, once Stiles and Scott had returned to the sheriff's office. "You will not speak to him. You will not approach him. You will not assault or harass him, physically or psychologically."

Scott's head was hung; his mother had been summoned, and she was looking severely disappointed in her son, her hand at her mouth as she stood near the doorway.

"What about school?" asked Stiles.

"You can attend classes while attempting to maintain a fifty-foot distance," the sheriff told his son, just as severely disappointed as Melissa, if not more so.

"Well, okay, but what if we both have to use the bathroom at the same time, and there are only two stalls available, and they're right next to each other?" Every adult in the room - the sheriff, Melissa, and Jackson's father - all crossed their arms and huffed. Stiles stopped talking. "I'll just hold it," he decided. 

<<<<<<>>>>>>

"Do I need to remind you how lucky we are that they are not pressing charges?" demanded Sheriff Stilinski, once they had finished reading the restraining order.

"Oh, come on," groaned Stiles. "It was just a joke!"

"A joke?" Stiles' father stared at his son incredulously. 

"Yes, I didn't think it would be taken that seriously!" Stiles tried to get out of this. "Dad, humor is very subjective, okay, I mean, we're talking multiple levels of interpretation, here!"

Stilinski stared at his son for another minute. "Uh-huh," he finally said. "Okay, so how exactly am I supposed to interpret the stolen prison transport van, huh?"

"We filled the tank!" protested Stiles.

"Move," Melissa said gravely, walking behind Scott as they walked past Stiles and Sheriff Stilinski. Once they had made it to the hallway, she stopped her son for their own private chat. "It's not just this," she told Scott. "Although a restraining order is a new low that I didn't think that you would reach quite this soon. It's everything on top of it. The completely bizarre behavior," she began ticking things off on her fingers, "the late nights coming home, having to beg Mr. Harris to make up that Chemistry test that you missed - "