Nothing Personal

The Next Day…

Scott was definitely on edge. Other than the fact Allison was grounded and was forbidden to see him for God-knows how long, he knew someone must have alerted her parents, and they sure as hell weren't a "Jennifer Hooley." He felt cornered and hopeless. He wanted to protect her, feeling anxious knowing he couldn't step twenty yards away from her without getting his head blasted into pieces from her livid father. He jittered in his desk as Stiles stared at him questionably.

Stiles glanced back at Danny, wondering if he could manipulate his classmate in searching the number for him –and Allison –as Allison had asked him to work his wonders, too, as a mutual friend between her and Scott. And to add another mouthful on his plate, Derek "requested" his presence after school. He was wondering how the hell he'd be able to do that before the clock hit 12, especially with Mr. Harris on his ass. He wondered if Derek could rough house the douche of the teacher to get him out early.

As the class progressed, Stiles anxiously waited in his seat, waiting for the bell to ring. When it did, he bolted, rushing towards Madison who was just leaving her Physics class. He was running at such a velocity, he almost rammed into her and settled with a locker instead, loudly connecting with the metal and bounced off onto the floor. Madison stifled a laugh and kneeled down to help him up.

"Aubrey! I really need to talk to you," he spewed out, barely coherent as he rose off the tile.

"About what…?" She asked hesitantly.

"About Tabitha," Stiles breathed out, massaging his sore shoulder that had pounded against the locker. He had hit it so hard it left a minor dent but he didn't notice, too focused on the blond in front of him. "She's the Alpha, yeah?"

Madison nodded her head slowly, keeping up her act, nervous about what Derek could have said to him. "Is there anyone else in the pack?"

"Um, a few but I don't know them personally. She bit them after I moved here. I only remember one of their names, Lucas. Why?"

Shoot, none of them even remotely close to 'Mads.' Stiles gulped. "We came by her place a few days ago. We overheard her on the phone with a Mads, we don't know what it's short for… would you have any idea?"

Playing oblivious, she shrugged. "I don't know, maybe it one of her family members?"

"I doubt it. She was talking about how she pulled a gun on Chris after he came by. It was definitely Pack related."

"Chris who," she faked confusion, knitting her neatly plucked, perfectly symmetrical eye brows together.

"The hunter," Stiles explained.

Feigning shock, she gasped and covered her mouth. "Why would he go over there? How did he learn where she lived? Most importantly, how the hell did he survive? Is he alive?" Her eyes widened as her lips parted in 'shock.' Stiles nodded. "I'm surprised. Tabi could have killed him in an instant! Out there, that's like the Old West. No rules, no authority. He's stupid to ever try that again."

"Wait, she didn't tell you?"

"No!" Madison objected. "She's been leaving me out of the loop recently. I barely know what she's up to."

Stiles believed every word of her bullshit.

"Okay," he tried another approach. "Do you think she would still be upset about it that, I don't know…She'd be willing enough to break into his house or stalk him?"

Madison shrugged. "You'd have to ask her."

"I, uh, we can't."

"What do you mean?" Madison asked, scrunching her eye brows together.

Scott and Stiles fidgeted in within the confined space of the large vehicle, admiring the sleek leather interior as Scott ran his hand over the smooth texture while Stiles stared at Tabitha from the side, not thinking she'd notice his intent gaze from her peripheral vision. He thought she was too focused on the dirt road ahead of her. Unfortunately for him, Tabitha could most definitely feel his gaze but resisted the urge to slap him for it. She promised herself that she would be on her best behavior, for Madison's sake.

"So is your family really connected to the cartel?" Stiles loud mouth blurted out. Scott shot him an angry look but before he could apologize on his friend's behalf, Tabitha waved him off.

"No," she tried to reply calmly but felt her voice strain. "Where did you hear that?"

"No one…" Scott covered for his friend before Stiles blurted out another fatal mistake. It was too late though, as Tabitha already suspected who spilt the beans on her family history. She reminded herself to confront Madison afterwards to chew her out for sharing her little secret.

The large wheels of the Ford 150 sped on the deserted road, leaving behind a dense and blinding trail of dust. Stiles made the mistake and rolling his window down to escape the tense-thick air of the small passenger's compartment and got a face full of dust, causing him to cough violently. Scott shot him a concerned look but Stiles waved him off as he slowly recovered while rolling the window up.

"Do you usually drive this truck?" Scott asked politely, trying to get on her good side.

She shook her head. "No. It's usually the guy's ride but sometime I have to drive it to haul a big load if they are busy. Most of the time, I just take my Escape. It's a smaller compact SUV but it still can get the job done, for my chores at least. How about you? What do you drive?"

"A crappy ass Jeep," Stiles shrugged. "Just ask anyone." Scott nodded in agreement.

"At least it's a car, so you should feel grateful," she insisted. Stiles nodded.

Tabitha could cut the tension with a knife and felt suffocated in the small space. Time for action, she told herself. "I know you have questions," she started, "so go ahead and ask. Let's get this over and done with."

Scott and Stiles exchanged questioning looks at each other, hesitant and doubtful but also desperate.

"Why did Chris come over?" Scott asked.

"To intimidate me," Tabitha replied with a grin. "He didn't expect me to pull out my Magnum on him. I also slipped in a few threats to make sure he keeps his distance. I don't think he'll bother me again or else he's the stupidest person I ever me, second to you, Stiles."

"What!" Stiles objected. "You don't even know me! You can't know if I'm stupid or not!"

"Please," she retorted with an eye roll, "you hid in a fucking supply closet, thinking I wouldn't smell you. Talk about the worst place ever."

"It's hard to think on the spot!" Stiles defended his actions. Scott watched from the backseat with a bewildered expression, curious about the exchange, and also realizing this was the chance to better understand the circumstances that placed his best friend on a gurney. "I didn't have many places to go! I was right in the open!" Stiles continued.

"You could have gone the other direction," she retorted. Scott heard Stiles hitch his breath as his face heated up. Scott was surprised a girl could get Stiles this agitated but Scott confused the red on his cheeks for something than what it really was: blush and embarrassment. Tabitha saw it though and laughed. "Oh don't worry, I still think your idiocy is adorable," she crossed the line by pinching his cheeks. He slapped her hand away and moved farther away.

"That's why you kissed me?" Stiles accused with slit eyes.

Tabitha laughed, "that and because you had this look, this expression. I can't explain it but it was irresistible Too bad you-"she was cut off by his hand as he launched his palm to cover her lips. Surprised, she stared at him with wide orbs for a moment before glancing back at the road and then back to him, feeling completely in control of the wheel. She took her hand off the wheel for one second to pry his hand off her face but underestimated his strength as he applied more pressure. Realizing driving was more important she dropped her hands back on the wheel but glared at him from her side. He wasn't moved by her hostility.

"You will not speak of that, ever, do you understand me? Forget about it, it never happened," Stiles demanded, not able to face the embarrassment of his best friend knowing he was wimp and fainted at his first, actual kiss. Tabitha raised a dark brow skeptically but nonetheless nodded.

"What the big deal anyways," she rhetorically asked. She fully understood that a male's pride was as big as their whole body pretty much. She hummed at him as she tilted her head to mock innocent curiosity.

"Just shut up about it," Stiles demanded. She didn't understand why was amused by this but all she wanted to do was mess with the guy. With a sultry grin, she lifted one hand off the wheel and stretched it over, skimming her hand over his leg, a little too close to comfort, making him shiver violently, gasping and stuttering as he couldn't figure out a way to respond smoothly. She was purposely trying to get him excited and not in the way he wanted –not in front of Scott that is. It made him mad and his face showed it perfectly. She just grinned at it and even went as far to send a wink.

Tired of her shenanigans, he decided he was going to play just as dirty. He made the bold move to lean over, pressing his nose to her cheek as he whispered into her hear harshly.

"You need to quit it, now," he demanded, pressing his palm against her thigh. She squeaked, stunned by his boldness. His warm breath against her neck gave her goose bumps and he saw it. He hid his satisfaction well behind a serious face.

Scott gaped, not believing the exchange between the two, in utter disbelief, trying to comprehend what the hell was going on.

"Make me," she challenged loudly, grinning. Stiles took a deep intake of breath, realizing she was enjoying this way too much –the opposite effect he wanted. Clenching his teeth, he pointed to the side of road, wanting to put an end to it.

"Pull over," he demanded. Interested, she complied and pulled closer to the fence, switching her vehicle to PARK and stared at Stiles questionably.

"What next?" She asked. He pointed outside as he unbuckled his seat belt.

"Outside, now," he ordered. She stayed in her seat until he reached over and unbuckled her seatbelt for her, tugging on her arm. He was too pissed off to care that he was challenging the presumed Alpha or that he'd get his shit kicked out of him. He just wanted to set the record straight. "You stay inside Scott."

"But," Scott protested, not trusting Stiles to be in a similar situation as before, but Stiles gave him a tense look. Scott let him think he was staying behind as the pair walked farther towards the fence and even began to scale it. Scott waited for his moment to bolt.

Leaning against the fence, Tabitha stared at the daring eyes of Stiles' honey brown orbs.

"Okay Mister," she used her trademark sass, "what's the matter?"

"You," Stiles exploded, throwing his hands in the air before pointing at her. "You and your wandering fingers," the memory still had him in shivers, "your I-Can-Do-Whatever-I-Want-To attitude and how you scare the shit out of me half of the time," he accused. He purposely kept to himself the way she raised his blood pressure, among other things. "You drive me insane! I don't know why you focus on me. I didn't do anything to you!"

Tabitha knitted her brows together in confusion. "What do you mean…? Are you insisting that I…. do this to make fun of you?" Stiles nodded furiously. Tabitha gaped, astounded by his accusations. "Why on earth do you think that?"

"Because," he stuttered. "I mean, look at you," he motioned to her, and he thought, 'even in simple jeans and a flannel shirt, she looks like she walked out of a fashion catalogue.' "The exotic beauty, the girl who can get any guy she wants, and you want to flirt with me, the awkward pariah? Seriously," he questioned, comparing them with hand gestures. She couldn't believe the words spouting from his mouth. "You're up to something and I know it," he concluded, staring her straight in the eyes. Determination was set in his gorgeous brown orbs, alluring her. She couldn't fix her mouth and soon she felt her lips form into a gentle smile.

"What the hell are you smiling about?" He exasperated, throwing his arms in the air again. She just chuckled with a wide-spread grin on her face.

"I don't have an agenda, Stiles," she answered, shaking her head. "When I do this," she lifted her hand to skim the back of her hand against his soft cheek, making him tremble, "it's not because I plan on knocking you out, it's because I want to cup your face and do this," she demonstrated by grabbing his face gently and pulling it down to the same level as hers, with their noses skimming each other. She could keep his nervous breath hitch as he could smell the refreshing hint of lemonade on her breath. He closed his eyes, expected her to finish was she started but realized after a moment, when he still didn't feel the warmth of her lips, he lifted his eye lids and saw her face contorted into a dilemma. She pursed her lips in a firm line, trying to keep serious as she struggled to accept what he could be thinking, what doubts he had, and how she could counter them.

"And," she continued, "When I say you're cute, I mean it," she said sincerely. "You don't acknowledge yourself as handsome or attractive because of what? …because of your friends, social status, or the fact the girl you adore hasn't returned your affections for years?" She shook her head. She knew most of this from Madison but Stiles was trying to figure out how the hell she knew. "You are an attractive guy, Stiles. You're tall, you're funny, you're loyal, and you're clever. Don't underestimate yourself."

"And when I do this," she leaned forward, closing the space between them, holding her hands at his sides, underneath his rib cage, "I want to get close to you, not because I want to kill you or hurt you but because I love your scent. It's intoxicating, with a hint of Jade and peppermint, odd but amazing."

"I'm not out to mess with you, Stiles," she concluded, "what I do, is basic flirting, and I can tell that's foreign to you."

"No," he denied but his voice rose as he acknowledged to himself, he most definitely agreed with her, "I flirt all the time," he tried to object, "what I mean is, though, how can you be attracted to me?" He stuttered incredulously.

"Easy," she stared directly in his eyes, "you're a human but you are able to keep up with this werewolf business and as a new werewolf myself, I admire you, for being brave enough to surround yourself with danger for the sake of your best friend. You're clever and witty and managed to solve who the culprit was behind the Hale house fire. You don't realize what a huge accomplishment that is. Not only does that impress me but I admire your coolness to deal with the obstacles that come your way. Not many people would be able to hold their sanity."

"To be honest, I think I'm starting to lose mine," Stiles admitted solemnly. "But… how do you know those things? How did you even know Derek and the Hale House fire? And Kate, how did you learn about her?"

Tabitha shook her head. "I did a lot of research."

"How," Stiles questioned.

"That's for me to know and you to maybe find out, but for now, we better head back, your friend is getting impatient." Tabitha deterred, glancing at Scott whose face was pressed against her back seat's window. She scowled. She didn't want his face print smearing against the glass.

Stiles' was still shell shocked about her statement and kept his distance as they walked back to the Ford 150. He would shoot her weary glances from the passenger seat for the rest of the short drive, wondering what she was up to.

Tabitha felt dismayed at his rejection, how he didn't kiss her or make a move, tried to remind herself he was just one guy out of a billion. Not all of them had his sense of humor or was even aware of werewolves but she wanted to be optimistic about the chances that she destined to find someone who was similar to the honey-brown eyed boy. Hardened, she rudely kicked Scott and Stiles out of her truck when she spotted their faded blue, busted up Jeep (just as Stiles had described,) pulled off to the side of the road.

"One thing," Stiles said right before opening the passenger door to join Scott outside. She glared at him, wondering what could possibly come out of his mouth. "Thanks, for the, uh, well, what you said under the tree. I really appreciate it," he stuttered. She just gave him the cold shoulder. "And, I think you are beautiful, too, stunning actually. You're intelligent and witty, and badass, too. I never met a girl who could force a guy on his knees like you did with Derek," Stiles said –recalling Scott's account, speaking heartedly, sincerity in his eyes. She stood stone-solid-still, trying not to be moved by his words. "It's intimidating sometimes, knowing you could kill a man as easy with a swipe of a hand, but then, at the same time, to put it bluntly, is a huge turn on," he shot her a grin.

She didn't reply, determined to not let him get to her.

"I would kiss you back, too," he continued, startling her.

"What's stopping you?" She hissed, angry, betrayed by her own eyes as she felt the familiar sting of tears threaten to break over the brim of her eyes. Stiles extended his hand and used his thumb to brush away her access build-up of moisture. She retracted from his touch violently, disgusted by his advanced. She wouldn't be played with. She felt dirty and pathetic she let it get this far.

He cupped her face and pulled it closer to him, and as their brilliant eyes connected, he understood fully how human she really was, that despite her cold exterior, she was more delicate than he thought.

Tabitha tried to excuse it by saying she could do better than a wimp than him but felt guilty for insulting him. The truth was she never really felt a man's touch other than her father's or brother's and those never anywhere near romantic. She was never able to accept a man's advances in her school without her brother's scaring him off and the one chance she had a truly experiencing another man's concentrated affection was diminished when Stiles rejected her.

He made another bold move and lightly kissed her lips, separating quickly as he was well aware she wasn't in the mood anymore. Stunned and surprised, but also hesitant, she stared at him wearily.

"What was that for?" She asked harshly, pressing her fingers to her warm lips. Stiles fought a grin, feeling a spark between them.

He just gave her a look, unable to provide a solid answer.

And it was still this unanswered explanation he struggled with. It was something that was wasn't prepared to wing at Tabitha, knowing she expected something else. He wasn't quite ready to face her yet.

"I don't know what to say to her," he spun his words. Madison could see he was nervous but confused it for fear of Tabitha, totally unaware of the kiss, even if it was just a peck. He couldn't deny he felt the fireworks and a connection he couldn't explain.

Madison laughed. "I'll talk to her tonight, if that will help, all right? But I can't guarantee anything. If she hasn't told me about Chris coming over, I won't expect her to tell the truth to me over much else."

"Thanks Aubrey! I really appreciate it!" And he really did, with Derek on his ass to do this and that, having Allison and Scott depending on him to find out who 'Jennifer Hooley' really is, and ultimately find out who was watching her, for both their consciences. It was a lot to handle for a single human behind and let out a heavy sigh. He didn't know if he'd be able to finish it all but at least now he could focus on other things.

Later That Night

Stiles rinsed a plate under the heavy flow of water from the faucet as his father gathered the pair of glasses off of the table. Because it was just the two of them, the clean up after dinner didn't demand much. He wiped off the left over A1 sauce from the plate before drying it with a hand towel.

"Hey dad," he asked. The Sheriff looked up at his son with attentive eyes.

"Yeah son," he replied.

"Did you know a Sheriff Klein?" Stiles asked, remember Derek's demand over the phone two hours ago.

Sheriff was surprised by the random question but knew an adequate answer nonetheless. "The one from here," the sheriff assumed. Stiles nodded. "I met him once," the sheriff continued, "when I just started as a deputy officer. He was the one to sign my papers. Other than that, I don't ever recall meeting him or having a conversation. He was a busy guy. I actually took his place as Sheriff after he died."

"You know," The sheriff continued to muse, "It was odd, when he died. He was only forty something years old. He was in prime physically health, too."

"Did he die of natural causes…?" Stiles questioned.

"No," Sheriff answered. "He died of suicide but all of the other officers in the precinct are certain it was staged. We don't know what caused it." It was a mystery he couldn't explain. He had looked at the records when he was first appointed at Sheriff, a favor he promised rest of the office he'd do that and all though it all seemed suspicious, he couldn't point it to murder.

"How, I mean, like how did he kill himself?" Stiles asked curiously.

"What brought this up?" The sheriff questioned seriously, confused why his son had even heard of Sheriff Martin Klein.

"Nothing, really, just some friends were talking about it and I missed half of the conversation. So how did he die?" Stiles repeated.

"Gun shot in the head," his dad answered hesitantly, doubting his son's answer but feeding his interest nonetheless. He demonstrated with his fingers, making a mock gun with his index and middle fingers to make the barrel, and opened his mouth while the 'gun' aimed to his brain from inside his mouth cavity. "It blew his brains out."

"The thing is," Sheriff confided in his son, "there wasn't any reason for him to kill himself, at least not that we are aware of. His career was great, at its peak, he was due for another term with the upcoming elections, and his home life was stable. His wife was just successfully cured of cancer for the second time and his son just announced he was engaged. Why would he kill himself right before the wedding?"

Stiles frowned. He knew better to believe it was a suicide and from Derek's account, he was sure someone or something did it. Derek claimed it was the Alpha but even then, Stiles couldn't connect Tabitha with Sheriff Klein, but then again, he'd learn more tonight, and then he'd be able to make a better judgment. Another thing was itching at his mind, and as the conversation had already started, he felt fine letting it out in the open, hoping his father could help him out.

"Dad, there was another fire," he started. Derek didn't give him much details except for the fact there was a fire and a surname and possible a chance Sheriff Klein could have been connected to it. "Before or after the Hale house fire, I'm not sure, but it was in town,"

"Yeah…?" His dad drawled out, not knowing how to respond. "Stiles, you have to elaborate some more. There were a lot of fires in this town, believe it or not. Which one are you talking about?"

"I honestly don't know," Stiles admitted, staring at his father's icy blue eyes but instead of coldness, he felt secure, like he always had since he was a kid. His father was the only sane, solid one in the house, especially after his mother died. He had looked up to his dad because of it, always into his rigid, stern blues. The feeling was mutual, as the sheriff felt deep warmth inside it heart whenever he looked into his son's eyes, the ones inherited from his kind mother. Stiles' was the only piece of her he had left and he valued every time he could look at his son and point out the uncanny similarities. "All I really know was that it a small house, with casualties, related to a family by the name of Dubolazov." He explained, pronouncing the Russian surname perfectly, as his own surname was Russian descent, too, and had similar vowels.

The last name struck something in the sheriff as he recalled the small fire, as it had happened right as he graduated from the police academy and entered the Beacon Hills workforce just after moving into town with his pregnant wife into the very house they lived in now. The event really stuck the young couple, as the house wasn't very far away from theirs. He remembered the two casualties announced within the charred remains of the once grand Victorian. The couple was young with a child, he thought, recalling his neighbor's testimony as well as his own memory, though he couldn't remember a kid. He never saw one at all but the surrounding neighbors assured him that indeed, there was a little girl. Her survival in question kept the newly wed Stilinski's awake for quite away, and was even behind some of his wife's tears.

"Yeah, I remember that distinctively," the sheriff mused solemnly, his eyes fading at the tragic memory. Stiles stared at him intently. "It wasn't that far from here, actually, about a block away from here." Stiles was stunned at the close proximity but stayed silent as his dad continued. "Sloane and Aubrey Dubolazov," he announced. "That was their names. I met them once, when they came over to introduce themselves to us, as we had just moved in. This was before you were born by the way, kiddo. The wife was attractive, with some kind of Native American or Italian heritage," he mused, remembering her dark contrasting hair and eyes against her pale, Caucasian skin, "and so was the husband but Sloane was a really serious, quiet guy." The sheriff felt intimidated by the man when he first met him, standing four inches above the average man's height. The pale blond, icy blued eyed gentleman was definitely a sight but the sheriff couldn't sense any ill will towards him or anyone in general. Sloane was just a plain mystery. "A man a few words, I guess," the sheriff continued, not recalling any conversation they could've shared. "His wife was very nice to. She got along with your mom just fine."

"Did you ever visit them?" Stiles asked.

The sheriff shook his head. "We were too busy unpacking and then suddenly, unexpectedly, their house caught on fire overnight." He shook his head. "I was told by my supervisors, seeing as I was a part of volunteer effort to take in witness testimony."

Stiles nodded a long, hanging onto every word. "There was something… off. The office kept it quiet but there was a little girl who survived the fire." Even though he didn't see her, he believed it, as he had more than enough support through witness accounts. Stiles' eyes widened, surprised. "Everyone on the block was sure there was a little girl in there. Sloane and Aubrey had a daughter, they insisted on that. They saw Aubrey play with a little girl who shared an uncanny resemblance towards her, some even went inside their house and saw a baby room specifically dedicated to her." The sheriff took a breath.

"How old was she?" Stiles asked, concerned and sympathetic as his eyes lowered sadly.

"Three or four," Sheriff estimated.

"Did she…die?" Stiles was scared to ask but did so anyways, his voice weak and feeble.

The sheriff shook his head. "I'm not sure. That's the puzzling part. When I visited the county morgue, I only noted two bodies –the adults." He shuddered at the sight.

They couldn't be considered bodies, just charred, blackened skeletons. It was hard to comprehend at one point one of them could have been the silk-haired, rosy cheeked woman and the other a brooding, pale man. It was a total contradiction, a revolting one, too. He was visibly upset just thinking about it.

"It's been a mystery ever since," he assumed, trying to regain an even voice after Stiles noted its shattered rhythm, "what happened to the little girl? No one knows. It's upsetting to think what could've happened to her. It's unnerving to think she… just disappeared into the air. She would've been your age now, Stiles."

Just hearing it out of his father's mouth made him tremble because it was, indeed, unnerving, wondering about all the different possibilities of the fate the girl could've faced. If she was alive –and his age –and given the strange circumstances of the activities happening around town, he wondered if it was really tied to the new mystery. But if she was dead, well, he felt really sorry she met such a painful and tragic end at such a young age.

"Dad," Stiles tried to offer a theory, "if she did survive, by some chance, what do you think could have happened to her?"

The sheriff shrugged. "It's unlikely but hypothetically, she did survive, and got away, she could've been titled an unidentified person, given a legal name from the government before being entered into a foster care system."

"Wouldn't anyone question her origins and send out some kind of alert to local police forces, in case she knew about her?" Stiles questioned. The sheriff shook his head.

"We didn't get any," the sheriff sounded sure of.

"Didn't the Dubolazov's have extended family that could've cared for her?" Stiles questioned further.

The sheriff shook his head again. "Sloane was a second generation immigrant from Russia. His father has passed away shortly after coming to America in New York and he moved here for a new start with his new bride, Aubrey, most likely because her brother lived here in California, in San Diego, but wanted the small town feel." He quoted Aubrey's words but not as gentle or delicate as he remembered them. She had a voice that was one of a kind.

"Didn't you contact the brother?" Stiles interrogated with hard eyes.

"To be honest," the sheriff complied, "I didn't. I wasn't allowed on the investigation. Because I was a 'newbie' and also because I also had met them, it was assumed it would present personal conflict with me. Martin Klein –the sheriff –had it."

That sparked something in Stiles who slit his eyes suspiciously at the information. "How did he handle the case?"

The sheriff looked down at his son, surprised by his keen interest on the random case, and wondered if there was more to it than it presented.

"I mean," Stiles tried to smooth his facial features, "how much progress did he make on the case? What did he deem it as? Was there arson?"

The sheriff shook his head. "Nope, just a gas leak, that's what he concluded on his report. It was a long case though, about three months' worth of extensive investigation for a simple house fire."

"Did he call the brother?"

"About the fire," the sheriff assumed. "Yes, he did. The poor guy was choked up about it."

"What about the little girl? Did he tell her about the girl?"

"That she was missing? I would assume so." The sheriff looked at him strangely. "Son, I hope you know there wasn't much we could do. There was no body, alive or dead, therefore we couldn't deliver her to him. She's gone with the wind."

Stiles nodded sympathetically.

"Did you look for her?"

"Desperately but as I said, she disappeared in thin air. No body, no evidence. It was all burned down. For all we know, she couldn't even have existed." He looked down at Stiles' solemn expression and patted his shoulders lightly. "I know, son, it's hard. It took a toll on your mother when she heard and it had me up all night for weeks," he admitted. "But we can only move on."

"One more question," Stiles asked curiously, "did you know her name?"

The sheriff tried to remember witness accounts but only recalled the first three letters. "Maddy, Madeline, Madison, something with a MAD in it."

The connection hit Stiles like a punch to the stomach and he struggled to support himself over the rim of the sink. The sheriff asked if he was okay but Stiles lied and waved it off, claiming it was a bruise from lacrosse practice.

After the dishes were finished, they separated into different rooms, while the sheriff pondered about the case in his bed, as fresh emotions popped up. He reminded himself it wouldn't be too much to ask to go into the cold case files and look at how much progress Klein really made. He started to recall how little information Klein let slip to other cohorts. He was very secretive about it, very suspicious now that he thought about it.

Was Madison even deemed a Missing Persons? He didn't recall her name being brought up outside office, not even broadcasted in the paper asking for any helpful information. It was like she didn't exist. It didn't settle right with him.

Resolved, the sheriff decided to take advantage of his position as the head of police and slip into the back of the office where the cases were held and take a full examination of the Dubolazov fire.

Stiles was anxious to meet with Derek to see the widow, full of questions as his father's answers weren't as satisfying as he would've thought, only feeding his curiosity further. He now connected that the missing child could be in fact the "Mads" Tabitha was talking to on the phone. Was it possible she was the Alpha or just a coincidence? Questions burned themselves into his brain. Maybe the fire wasn't even related? There were a lot of Madison's out there! Perhaps, her name wasn't even Madison but as the night progresses, he began to doubt coincidences.

Determined, he got out of bed to get dressed in warm attire, ready to search for answers.