Not So Sweet Home

Chapter 1- The Call

                                               Chapter 1- The Call

"Stiles? Earth to Stiles."

"Huh?" Stiles responded, turning away from the crime board and to face his partner.

"What are you thinking about?" JJ asked.

"Uh... nothing. What do we have on the case?"

JJ assumed that if Stiles wanted to talk about whatever was bothering him, he would. "Garcia found a few names that match the description, but she has no way to narrow the list down."

Stiles pulled out his cell and dialed Penelope Garcia's phone.

"What you got for me?" Her cheery voice sounded through the phone.

"There is obvious overkill, either he knows the victims or they are surrogates for the real source of his anger. Try searching for someone that was involved in a similar accident that took place on the frontage road."

"You work magic, Stiles. That brings us down to two options. Michael Bane and Levi King."

"Did either accident involve another passenger?" JJ asked.

"Yes!" Penelope exclaimed. "Michael Bane was driving with his daughter in the back seat. She was in the ICU, until...a week ago. She didn't make it."

"There's the trigger," JJ answered.

"Thanks," Stiles said before quickly hanging up and following JJ out of the Police Department.

                                                                ***

"You know you can talk to me," JJ claimed as she sat down next to Stiles on the plane.

"I know," He answered.

"So, then what's up?"

"Um... I can't tell you," Stiles said hesitantly.

"Well then tell me when you can," She responded before getting up and walking away.

Stiles leaned his head against the small window and took in the view, as he thought back to the phone call that morning.

***

"Hey Dad, What's up? I'm on a case. I don't have much time."

"You need to come back home," His dad blurted out.

"What?!"

"The Nogitsune, it's gone."

"What do you mean it's gone! It was trapped in that jar and locked away."

There was silence on the other end of the line.

"Dad?"

"Just think about it. Please," His dad begged before hanging up.

                                                              ***

What was he supposed to do? He had a job here. He couldn't just drop everything and go back home. It can't be gone, he thought to himself. It can't be.

"You good?" Derek asked, interrupting Stiles' thoughts.

Stiles looked up to the buff man sitting across from him. "Yeah. I'm good," he said but it didn't come out as convincingly as he wanted.

"I'm not convinced. What's up?"

"Um..." he began. " I, uh. I..."

"Wait, Stiles is at a loss for words," Derek joked, which received a small laugh from Stiles. "No seriously kid, what is wrong."

"Something back home. My, uh, dad called. Someone I thought I would never have to deal with again, might be back and..."

Derek could see the fear on Stiles' face and hear it in his voice. The usually daring and sarcastic Stiles Stilinski was scared.

"You're scared?"

"I'm terrified," Stiles responded.

"What did this person do?"

"I can't tell you."

"You always can't tell us. We know nothing about your past, because you 'can't tell us'!"

"It's better if you didn't know."

"Better for who. Clearly not you. You keep everything to yourself, and it tears away at you. We all can tell."

"It's better for you. All of you." At that Stiles stood up and walked to the other side of the plane.

Derek decided not to push. He stayed where he was and pulled his headphones back on. Soon he dozed off, along with the rest of the team, well except Stiles.

Stiles was scared to close his eyes. He didn't want to remember the pain he caused. He didn't want to relive those events, and yet here he was being forced to. He was terrified of not knowing if he was awake or dreaming, so he drank more coffee and forced himself to stay alert.

                                                               ***

As the team walked back into the bullpen Hotch called out "Round table in five!"

"We just got back!" Emily complained.

"It's a rapidly evolving case. They need us ASAP."

The team moped their way into the conference room. As they entered Garcia was already waiting to present the case.

"It's a gory one."

The team began to flip through photos of the crime scenes on their iPads, well all of them except, technophobe Dr. Spencer Reid, who looked through a physical file.

"What could do that?" Reid began.

"A sword," Stiles quickly responded, before rushing out of the room.