Title: Legacy
Fandom: Teen Wolf, Supernatural
Pairing: gen, with past-Mama Stilinski/Papa Stilinski (and background Derek/Stiles)
Categories: Drama, Character Study, Crossover, Family
Length: Medium (3,284 words)
Warnings: references to canon character deaths, canon-typical violence, spoilers through mid-season 2

Author on LJ: scarletjedi
Author Website: scarletjedi

Author's Summary:
For Campbell men, family was everything.

Review:
This story is an ode to Sheriff Stilinski, retired hunter, and uses the world of Supernatural to give the elder Stilinski an intriguing backstory and depth. Raised by his extended Campbell family as a hunter, he lives that life until he falls in love with a not-entirely-human woman and retires. When he loses his wife, Leslie (his name in this story), closes the book on his past for the second time and can't talk about it. Watching from the outside, he sees werewolves and hunters return to Beacon Hills and sees his son become embroiled in the supernatural. It's when Stiles is in danger that he finally is able to come out of retirement and also share his deeply-buried secrets.

This story feels larger than its word count, and I wish the author had continued on. However, the story works as is, and is a fun study and expansion of a interesting but minor character in the show.

It also features both the Stiliniski men being BAMFS, which I'm a sucker for.

Derek started coming around to dinner, or breakfast. Whichever was the communal Stilinski family meal that day, and Les ignored that he had an Alpha werewolf sitting at his table and Derek looked socially awkward but Stiles beamed like it was Christmas everyday. And when Les saw how Derek looked at Stiles when he thought he couldn’t be seen, well, Les decided to keep the silver knife hidden when he gave the “hurt my son I cut off your balls” talk.

Les came out of retirement two months before Stiles’s eighteenth birthday. It was the summer solstice and a new moon and Stiles had been missing for two days.

Les grabbed his old leather duffel and his journal, his supply of holy water and put a protection charm around his neck. He put the sawed-off in the bag and his pistol on his hip. He grabbed extra rounds and a trowel to dig up the special ammunition. Silver bullets. Cold iron. Rock salt rounds. The rest of the weapons whet into the bag with whatever else he could think of and he slipped it over his shoulder. He left his Sheriff's badge at home and grabbed his leather jacket and started walking. He couldn’t take the county car, and Stiles’s jeep was in lockup.

Chris Argent pulled up next to him five minutes from his house.

“Not a good place for you to be, Sheriff,” Chris called through the open window.

“I’m not wearing a badge,” Les said. He met Chris’s eyes. “My son is out there.” He’s all I have left.

Legacy