RECOVERY ° S. STILINSKI

la bête de Gévaudan

            One place I never thought I would be walking into was a rehab facilitation. Especially not Stepping Stones. The place wasn't the worst, there were plenty of places that we could be going to that would stir something worse up but this place was still weird.

          One of my elementary friends had to be admitted here when she was in middle school because of stuff she went through so it felt weird coming in just to see a teacher that wanted nothing to do with Beacon Hills High School.

      "Guys, are you sure this is our only choice? I mean, I get he's our coach but we could always just spill the deal to our current coach and call it a day." I spoke as we left the jeep, slowly walking to the front door of the building. "And risk him telling everybody in town? Yeah, let's try to keep Scotty here alive." Stiles replied and I shook my head.

       "Fine. Let's go and get this over with." I huffed, glancing in the doors before sliding into the building. The walls were white and the couch that sat in the middle of the room was light gray and there was a head hanging over the top. As I moved closer, I realized that the head was of Finstock. I tapped Scott's shoulder and nodded towards him, causing the three of us to surround him.

          Scott and Stiles sat on opposite sides of him and I squatted down behind the couch. "Hey, Coach, it's Scott and Stiles." Scott tried to get through to him but his eyes were blankly staring at the ceiling. "Coach, You're in rehab. You didn't have a lobotomy." Stiles spoke and I furrowed my brows, waving my hand over his eyes hoping he would at least blink in reply. "Coach?" I muttered.

          Stiles shrugged and glanced at the table where there was an ongoing chess game. He went to move a piece but Finstock's hand shot out, gripping his wrist. "Don't you touch it. I've got Nurse Gonzalez by the balls of the last three moves," He chuckled between his words, "and she knows it." He was smiling but when Stiles didn't release the piece he glared, "Let it go. You're checking out of this place now." Stiles said.

          The three of us stood up, ready to walk out the door with Coach but his reply caused us each to go back down. "Not a chance." Scott and I exchanged worried glances before focusing on Finstock. 

         What does he mean by not a chance? As far as the boys say, he's our only hope. "Okay, Coach. But, we know you're fine." Scott spoke up causing Coach to shush him loudly sitting up slightly.

         "I have a debilitating disease. It's called "I'm not going to take another arrow to my stomach-phobia." Look it up." He said and I furrowed my brows. That was all the way back in Junior year, back when Stiles was possessed by the Nogitsune.

        "Nobody's shooting arrows at anyone, okay? We just need you to coach the charity game." Stiles explained but Coach just scoffed loudly.

       "Charity? Not a chance." He said, looking forward, ignoring our words nearly completely. This was harder than any of us thought it would be. "How exactly have you been conning them into letting you stay here?" Stiles questioned. Coach turned his head his eyes slightly wide. "I, uh... I have relapses. It's... It's serious. I've had seven of them." He stuttered, nodding vigorously as he spoke.

         "So once a month?" I deadpanned and he nodded slightly, "Yeah, you see, uh, every time they are just about to discharge me," He clicked his tongue. "I relapse." He described his fail-proof plan to us.

          Of course, he had a plan to stay here, I mean, who wouldn't? There must be good food, a place to sleep. Not only that but it's basically free. The thought of that was a good thing but you'd think they'd be a little more lenient to leaving.

          "And no one's noticed that pattern?" Stiles questioned and Coach just smirked, "I have phenomenal health insurance. So why don't you guys get the hell out of here? I hate charity games. They're meaningless." He spoke and I pursed my lips.