Hero (Sterek)

Chapter 18

Stiles recovered his jeep and practically flew back to his house. His father was still comatose on the couch when he walked in. And Stiles felt the pang in his gut as he walked by. But he had a goal. And he searched for that goal through all of his father's things.

After nearly ripping apart the entire house, he found it. The kid's file. He scanned through the documents and found what he was looking for.

"He drives a mystery machine?" Stiles muttered incredulously. He flipped back to the photo. "Well...if your hair were lighter."

Stiles quickly wrote down the address, looked it up on Google, and then booked it out of the house. Stiles didn't bother with traffic lights. Until he made it out of the city and all of the sudden life started to trickle back into view and then he slowed it down and remembered traffic laws and such.

Christopher Bailey's house was more like half a house. It sat on one of those streets where it looked like all the houses were cut in half. They were all separated by a wire fence about half Stile's height and looked like it would be painful if he tried to jump over it and failed. His house, specifically, was yellow—a really ugly, peeling yellow with a white roof and a door that looked like it was going to fall off when it opened again. A dog was barking somewhere.

Stiles pulled up and killed the engine.

"Alright, Stilinski," he told himself, glancing in the rear mirror. "You can do this. I'm so sorry for your loss. No that sounds like I'm trying. I mean, I need to try but I don't need to sound like a heartless douchebag out for their money or something. Hello, Mrs. Marcus, I hope things are well. I knew your son from coll—so now I'm a liar? Well, that's not new." Stiles pursed his lips and tapped his fingers on the wheel.

"Fuck it." Stiles got out of his jeep.

He pushed past the gate, stomped up the steps, and then knocked on the door.

The neighborhood was quiet. "Too quiet..." he muttered, eyeing the sunny emptiness. The sun was also weird. But then again it was California.

"Can a help you?" a smoky voice said.

Stiles jumped around. "Oh, hi! Mrs. Bailey...?"

She was a ginger woman maybe in her fifties with saggy blue eyes. "Yeah?" She put a cigarette to her lips and took a breath.

"Uhhhhhh...."

"You need money for some high school fundraiser or can I shut the door?"

"You'd give me money for a school fundraiser?"

"No."

Stiles shook his head. "I was a friend of um Chris—from school."

She raised a brow. "You don't look like a college student."

"I get that a lot. Um, look Chris had some of my stuff in his car and I was hoping..."

"Yeah, look, I don't really care." She took another long draw from her cigarette and then blew it in his face. Stiles forced himself to not breathe. "The cops already took his car. I don't know what's happening."

"Yep," Stiles said, still holding his breath as smoke pooled around his face, "thanks."

He got out of there as soon as he could. Mrs. Marcus sneered and slammed the door. When Stiles got back into his jeep, he pulled out his phone ready to call...someone. Except no one was available. Except maybe Lydia, but then again what if she was asleep, too?

He tried it anyway. She picked up on the third ring. She sounded tired.

"What do you want, Stiles?"