Stiles is changing. His humour fading, the light in his eyes turning darker with everyday, he was becoming more and more like the dark spirit they just defeated. His friends notice it. His dad notices it. Stiles knew this.
But what he didn't know...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Phil sat in Lola, running his hands up and down her steering wheel as he thought. His mind plagued with the demonic images of his nephew from the previous evening. Finally he reached inside his suit pocket and pulled out his phone, scrolling through the contacts until he reached one he hadn't touched in nearly six years.
Hovering over the contact for a moment, he eventually gave in, pressing on the name and putting the metal object to his ear. The monotone ringing drilled into his skull, his heart pounding, filling his body with regret. He shouldn't be doing this. It was against protocol.
But he had to know.
"Hello?" The deep voice of the Sheriff filled the agents ears, his hands shaking at the sound of the brother-in-law he abandoned in his grief all those years ago. "Is anyone there?" Noah asked, his voice filled with exhaustion. "If this is some sort of sick prank, I'll have you know that I could get you arrested." The old man threatened, about to put the phone down. Phil sighed.
"Noah it's me." The line went silent. All the agent could hear was the uneven breathing coming through the speaker at his ear. Coulson took in a shaky breath. "I think we need to talk." He heard a cold laugh echo through the line, making the agent shift in his seat.
"Well you're about six years late for that Phil." Noah snarked sourly, his distaste however half hearted. The Sheriff took a long sigh, the anguish and pain he had been feeling these past few months released in a single breath. "I need your help. Something happened." He muttered, sadness clogging up his voice.
"With Stiles?" Phil asked, pity in his voice. Noah coughed, clearing up his throat.
"He's not been the same." The Sheriff began, relieved at finally being able to express his pent up emotions. "For months now, since the death of one of his friends. He hasn't been sleeping, eating, constantly on edge. I just- I don't know what to do anymore." Noah cried, his voice breaking with tears. "He's not the person he used to be and I don't know how to help him."
Phil smiled grimly. The menacing evil grin still plastered in his mind, the coldness in the boy's eyes still bearing daggers into his head. He defiantly isn't the person he used to be.
"Where is he now?" Phil asked, already knowing the answer. "Is there anything I can do to help?" Give me something. He thought. Anything, tell me what went wrong, what's wrong with my nephew?
"I- I don't know Phil." The Sheriff whispered, desperation lacing his words. "I don't know where he's gone, he just disappeared. I just want my son safe. I want him home." Noah cried, his sobs filling the agent's ears, causing his own to brim with water. With emotion clouding his judgment like a heavy hand wrapped around his heart, Coulson made a decision.
