Reading Time: 134 Minutes

Title: A Brokered Peace
Series: What We Gain
Series Order: 5
Author: enigmaticblue
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Genre: Action Adventure, Drama, Family
Relationship(s): Gen
Content Rating: PG-13
Warnings: *No Mandatory Warnings Apply.
Word Count: 86,000
Summary: There’s finally movement on the Argent front, and they have a new magical creature to deal with in Lydia. Plus, there’s always the issue of the Nemeton and the nogitsune.
Artist: ringspells

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Chapter 3

Stiles is a little surprised when Moira returns to the house and asks him to accompany her. It’s nearly eight, and while Stiles isn’t exactly an early to bed person most of the time, he thought that Moira was going home after their trip to the medical examiner’s office.

Not that Stiles ever minds a chance to do magic or learn from Moira and the rest of the coven.

“What should I do?” Scott asks as Stiles pulls on his jacket.

“Stay put, dude,” Stiles tells him. “Hang out with Derek, finish your homework. Your dad isn’t going to come here.”

“And if he does?” Scott asks.

Stiles shrugs. “Tell him that he’s trespassing, and you don’t have to call the police, because Deputy Hale is already here.”

Scott grins crookedly. “I’m sure my dad would love that response.”

“It’s a response,” Stiles says. “And it isn’t one he can really argue with.”

“True,” Scott says. “I’ll stay here tonight. You mind if I sleep in my fur?”

“No, of course not,” Stiles replies. “I have to go.”

“Be careful,” Scott says. “There’s something weird going on.”

“There usually is in Beacon Hills,” Stiles counters.

Stiles joins Moira by the front door, and they leave for the Mahealanis’ in her Prius. “What are we looking at?” Stiles asks as he gets into the passenger seat.

Moira sighs. “Magical corruption. It infected Barrow, and drove him to commit murder. Or, well, that’s not accurate. It gave him the means to commit murder.”

“I don’t figure he needed much drive to do it, given that he’s already killed at least four people,” Stiles comments.

“Just so, but it allowed him to wake from the anesthesia and kill his surgeon,” Moira says. “I have an idea, but I want to get Noelani’s opinion before I say anything.”

“Fair,” Stiles says. “So, magical corruption. In a general sense, how bad are we talking?”

“That depends,” Moira replies. “Which I know isn’t terribly informative.”

Stiles snorts. “But it’s probably better than you giving me an inaccurate answer.”

“Correct,” Moira replies, taking a sharp turn. “The nogitsune, in Japanese culture, is not normally associated with decay or evil. They’re tricksters, but not necessarily malicious. Barrow was having a tumor removed, and according to the nurse, it was full of flies.”

“So, it could be that there’s an entirely different magical corruption than what was contained in the Nemeton,” Stiles says.

Moira nods. “Precisely.”

Stiles drums his fingers against the door, thinking through the possibilities. “Do you think we’ll be able to fully cleanse the Nemeton?”

“I don’t know,” Moira admits. “But we’re going to try.”

Moira pulls up in front of the Mahealanis’ house, and Alana is the one to answer the door. “Sorry for the late hour,” Moira says.

“The best defense in this situation is knowledge,” Alana replies philosophically. “Let’s go into the backyard again. I’d rather not have anything like that in the house.”

Stiles prefers to do magic outside, where he can feel the earth, so he has no objection. Someone has turned on the heat lamps, so the area of the yard where they usually form their circle is comfortable.

Noelani and Danny are already there, seated, and Noelani says, “Alana passed along your message, Moira. Are you sure this is related to what was locked inside the Nemeton?”

Moira shakes her head. “I’m not sure of anything right now. All I know is that a man had a tumor full of flies, and he was able to come out from under anesthesia to murder his surgeon.”

Noelani grimaces. “Well, let’s see what you’ve got.”

Moira produces an evidence vial, and Stiles leans in to see the dead fly at the bottom. “What are we going to be able to tell from a dead fly?”

Noelani laughs a bit. “Magical corruption is easy to sense, at least for someone with my experience.” She glances at Moira. “But perhaps this could be a learning experience for Stiles.”

Moira inclines her head. “Hold out your hand, Stiles. Earth is your affinity, and insects—even dead ones—should still feel of the earth.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Stiles asks.

“You’ll know,” Moira replies dryly.

Stiles hesitates, but he holds out his hand, and Moira tips the fly into his palm. Stiles immediately gags. “Oh, that’s gross.”

“Give it to me,” Noelani says immediately.

Stiles can’t hand it over quickly enough, dropping it into Noelani’s palm, then rubbing his hand briskly on his jeans. “That might look like a dead fly, but it’s not.”

“Hm, no, you’re correct about that,” Noelani agrees. “This is a piece of something very dark, probably what was locked up in the Nemeton.”

The fly goes up in a puff of green flame, and Noelani shudders. “I think it was called here originally. It’s not a true nogitsune. Whatever it is, was called in an act of vengeance, and probably as an act of desperation.”

Stiles frowns. “You could sense all of that?”

“Both Moira and I have been called to cleanse areas where people have been…” She pauses. “Let’s say misused and oppressed. What happens when someone is kicked too many times, Danny?”

“They start kicking back,” Danny says readily. “And sometimes, kicking means calling on powers they can’t control.”

“Like Matt Daehler,” Stiles murmurs.

“Well, calling on a demon to get revenge on your childhood bullies is a bit of an overreaction,” Moira replies. “But yes, similar to Daehler.” She looks at Noelani. “Are you thinking about that situation in Kosovo?”

“I am,” Noelani replies.

Moira hums under her breath, and then says, “This is older, I think. It’s been in the Nemeton for decades. I felt the extent of the rot when I first observed it.”

Noelani nods. “But similar in nature.”

“Yes, quite similar, although the one in Kosovo had a passing resemblance to a striga,” Moira agrees. “Take note, boys. Demons require a ritual to call, and if not done correctly, they will turn on the summoner, as Daehler experienced. Vengeance spirits look for an opening, and they will often take the shape of whatever makes sense for the summoner’s culture, but they don’t always follow the same rules.”

Stiles frowns thoughtfully. “That’s why it might take the form of flies, since they’re associated with decay in most Western cultures, but feel like a nogitsune. Whoever called it was probably a product of both cultures.”

“Possibly,” Moira cautions. “We shouldn’t jump to conclusions this early, but those are good instincts, Stiles.”

Danny frowns. “But what could have happened in Beacon Hills that would have warranted that sort of call for vengeance?”

Stiles frowns. “I don’t know, but our new history teacher seems to have a pretty good handle on obscure historical facts. We could ask him.”

“We do have that history project we’re supposed to be working on,” Danny points out. “I don’t have a partner for it yet. Do you?”

Stiles shakes his head. “Nope. Wanna be study buddies?”

“Us witches have to stick together,” Danny says with a grin.

Stiles offers a fist bump, and he feels a little bit better, thinking that they might be closer to some answers.

~~~~~

Derek has decided that he doesn’t hate beer as much as he thought he did, and drinking one with Parrish at the dining room table while Scott quietly freaks out is a pleasant way to pass the time.

“I just don’t know what he wants!” Scott bursts out. Isaac and Cora left not long after Stiles did, with Cora meeting Erica after her shift, and Isaac heading back to the apartment he shares with Boyd. It had been clear, to Derek at least, that they hadn’t wanted to stick around for Scott’s drama.

Not that he blames them. Hearing about how someone’s parent wants to connect—no matter how shitty the parent might be—probably doesn’t feel great to a pair of orphans.

“You could ask him,” Parrish says hesitantly. It’s clear that he doesn’t know whether he should get involved, but is also interested in investing more in the pack and its dynamics. “I mean, I don’t know. Maybe he’s a shit father, but he’s still showing up.”

“The question is why, though,” Scott counters. “He up and disappears, then he starts reappearing, disrupting my life.”

“Maybe that’s exactly what he wants to do,” Derek suggests. “So you can’t ignore him.”

“Well, it sucks,” Scott declares. “I wish he would just leave me alone.”

“Maybe you should just talk to him,” Derek suggests. “Rip the bandaid off, get it over with. You’ll at least have the satisfaction of telling him to fuck off to his face.”

Scott slips. “I couldn’t say anything like that! He’d tell my mom, and my mom would kill me.”

“So, tell him to fuck off politely,” Parrish replies. “Just use your words instead of bailing as soon as you see him.”

Scott actually seems to be taking their advice on board. Derek has noticed that he’d seemed more settled, more interested in listening to the opinions of the rest of the pack.

More interested in being part of the pack, period. Derek thinks that Deaton’s influence has finally worn off completely.

“How do I do that?” Scott asks. “You don’t know my dad. He tends to just steamroll over everyone and everything.”

Derek doesn’t know Scott’s dad, but he’s had family members like that. “It’s best to choose the place of confrontation, and then offer a meeting,” he replies. “That way, you’re controlling the situation, and he’s not catching you on the back foot.”

Scott perks up a bit at that. “You mean like invite him over here, or ask to meet at a public location?”

“Exactly,” Parrish says. “You control the location, and you tell him to stop showing up at your school and place of employment. He’s the one who left, right?”

Scott shrugs, looking away, his cheeks flushing a dull red. “Technically, I think Mom kicked him out after…” He stops. “It wasn’t great, but he never even tried to apologize.”

“Then I think you get to set the terms on how and whether he’s back in your life,” Parrish says. “And don’t hesitate to hold him accountable. He has to earn back your trust.”

Scott blows out a breath. “You don’t think I should just forgive him because he’s my dad?”

Parrish just gives him a look. “I was put in foster care for a reason. I’m the last person on the planet who’s going to tell you to give someone a free pass because they’re related to you.”

Scott stares at him for a moment, and then he offers a hesitant smile. “Thanks.”

“Do you have any homework you should be doing?” Derek asks. “I think everyone else got theirs done earlier.”

Scott blows out a breath. “Yeah, I do.” He pauses. “Thanks for listening—both of you. I know it probably seems like I’m oblivious, but I’m not that clueless.”

“I didn’t think you were,” Derek replies, finishing up his beer. “And we don’t need to compare parental wounds, Scott.”

That causes Scott to smirk at him. “Big words. Did you learn that in therapy?”

Derek refuses to rise to the bait. “Absolutely.”

Parrish also finishes his beer. “I should get going, too. Hang in there, Scott.”

Derek walks him to the door. “Crazy couple of days, huh?”

Parrish laughs. “You know, I really thought I knew what I was getting myself into, but I guess not. Still, it was—fun isn’t the right word, but nothing is making me regret my choices.”

“Same,” Derek replies, and they exchange a quick bro-hug.

The house is emptier than usual at that point, just him and Scott. Derek figures that at one point, it would have been uncomfortable, but Derek pulls out a book, and Scott works on his homework.

Noah is the first to arrive home, and he doesn’t seem surprised to see that Scott. “You staying here tonight?” Noah asks.

Scott nods. “If that’s okay.”

“You know you’re always welcome,” Noah replies. “Did you let your mom know?”

Scott pulls out his phone. “I’ll text her now.”

Derek goes on with his reading, and Scott keeps on with his homework. Noah heads upstairs, and Derek can hear his cell phone ring a few minutes later.

Derek isn’t trying to listen in. There isn’t much privacy with so many werewolves around, and so they all try to respect things like closed doors and phone calls taken while the other party isn’t on speakerphone.

Still, he can’t help but have his attention drawn when he hears Noah say, “Oh, for fuck’s sake!”

Scott’s head comes up, too, and he says, “I think the sheriff is talking to my mom.”

Derek cocks his head. “It sounds as though your dad is making himself even more of a nuisance.”

Noah says, “Yeah, I’ll send Dave and Paul over to tell him that he needs to leave, and he’s making the neighbors nervous. What the hell is he thinking?”

It’s probably a rhetorical question, but Mel responds with, “I think he can sense that he’s already lost his son, and it’s making him desperate.”

Noah snorts. “What? Did he think he could just put his kid on a shelf and he’d be right where he left him, in the same state he left him in?”

“Knowing Rafe, probably,” Mel replies, and now she sounds mostly amused. “Thanks, Noah, and thank you for keeping Scott there tonight. At this point, I’d prefer that Scott isn’t alone when he meets with his dad.”

“Agreed,” Noah says. “I’ll take care of it, Mel.”

“Thank you,” she says.

Noah comes back to the dining room with his cell phone in his hand, and his expression is a mixture of exasperation and amusement. “How much of that did you hear?” he asks.

“Let me guess, my dad is sitting outside our house, waiting for me,” Scott comments.

“So, most of it, then,” Noah comments. “Give me a second.”

They watch and wait as Noah dials a number. “Paul? Where are you guys?”

Derek can hear Paul reply, “We’re out on patrol, sir. It’s been a pretty quiet night so far.”

“I need you to go by the McCall place,” Noah says. “Mel is at work, and Scott is spending the night here. Apparently, Mel’s ex-husband is parked outside their residence, making the neighbors nervous. One of them called Mel at the hospital.”

“You want us to move him along?” Paul asks.

“Yeah, I do,” Noah replies. “Fair warning, though, he’s an FBI agent, so he might try using his badge.”

Paul snorts. “Nothing against the feds, sir, because they were pretty damn helpful with the Argent case, but he’s got no jurisdiction.”

“I think he wants to talk to his kid, but Mel has full custody, and Scott isn’t interested right now,” Noah says. “So, you’re absolutely correct on that front.”

“I’ll let you know how it goes,” Paul replies.

Scott’s face is a perfect picture of dismay. “What does he want?”

“Right now, evidence suggests that he just really wants to talk to you, but your mom is right,” Noah replies. “Best if there’s a witness. Paul and Dave will move him along, and we’ll figure it out.”

“What if he comes here?” Scott asks, sounding genuinely distressed, and Derek thinks he understands. Someone who actually cared to establish or maintain a good relationship wouldn’t be stomping all over Scott’s boundaries.

“I have no problem arresting him for trespassing and letting him cool his heels in a cell overnight, Scott,” Noah says patiently. “But I have no doubt that Paul and Dave will get the point across.”

Scott sighs. “Yeah, I know. I like Paul and Dave.”

“I’m pretty sure everyone does,” Noah replies.

Stiles arrives home at just that moment, looking a bit wrung out but otherwise in good shape. “Hey,” he calls. “Did I miss anything?”

“My dad’s apparently camped outside my house,” Scott says sourly.

“Good thing you’re here then,” Stiles says cheerfully after a moment’s pause.

Scott grins briefly. “Yeah. True.”

Noah glances at Stiles. “Did you and Moira get any information?”

Stiles throws himself into a chair. “Yeah, it’s actually pretty interesting. We think someone called up a vengeance spirit, probably someone who was abused in some way. And maybe someone who had exposure to both western and Japanese cultures, but Moira told me not to jump to any conclusions. Danny and I are going to do some historical research.”

Scott frowns. “Does that mean you’re going to partner with Danny on the history project?”

Stiles grimaces. “Sorry, Scotty. But I’ll still help you if you want!”

Scott shrugs. “It’s cool. I don’t think Isaac has a partner yet, so I’ll ask him if he wants to work with me.”

Stiles smiles. “Thanks.”

Derek thinks that’s a pretty good sign that things are going back to normal between the two of them.

Noah nods. “All right, but be careful. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about cold cases, it’s that they can heat up without warning.”

Stiles bobs his head. “Yeah, I get it, Dad. We’ll keep an eye out. I think I’m going to get ready for bed.”

“Me, too,” Scott says. “I got all the important stuff done. Thanks again for letting me stay here tonight.”

“As I told your mom, you’re always welcome here, Scott,” Noah replies.

The two boys head upstairs, and Derek gives Noah a long look. “How are you doing?”

Noah shrugs. “About like how I was doing after the deaths of the alpha pack, or Jennifer Blake. Barrow needed to be put down, and I did the job.”

Derek isn’t too surprised by that response. Barrow had proven himself to be an enemy, and Noah takes that very seriously.

Wolves can be ruthless when it comes to a threat to the pack.

“I’m glad you’re not going to lose much sleep over it,” Derek offers.

“Try none,” Noah says. “The only thing I might lose sleep over is whether Rafe McCall is going to be a problem.”

Derek understands that. An FBI agent causing problems is a tougher problem to solve than a serial killer, or a bunch of insane werewolves.

“Maybe you should try calling Agent Marsh,” Derek suggests. “He might have some pull, or at least some idea if there’s anything else driving this.”

Noah nods slowly. “That’s a good idea, Derek. Thanks.”

Derek shrugs. “Think I’ll head up to bed, too. Tara said you hate it when your deputies are late.”

“It’s not my favorite,” Noah says with a snort. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Derek sleeps just fine that night, and he runs into Scott and Stiles in the kitchen the next morning, quickly eating bowls of cereal. “Be careful today, huh?” Stiles says as he rinses out his bowl in the sink.

Derek smiles briefly. “Pretty sure Tara will look after me.”

“Okay, so look after Tara, too,” Stiles replies. “It’s my turn to cook tonight. I’m thinking pasta.”

“Sounds great,” Derek replies. “See you two later.”

Derek makes it to the station with fifteen minutes to spare, seeing that Noah is already in his office. Tara’s also there. “Hey, Derek. You doing okay?”

Derek shrugs. “I’m happy to have the sheriff back on the job, but I’m fine.”

“You know, there was an officer-involved shooting a few years ago, and that definitely rattled me,” Tara admits. “And this one just didn’t.”

“You’re a ‘wolf now,” Derek points out. “Barrow was a threat to the pack, and the Alpha killed him.”

Tara frowns in thought, and then she laughs a little as she shakes her head. “You know, sometimes I forget.”

“Forget what?” Derek asks.

“I forget that being a werewolf changed me. I don’t feel much different, all things considered, but you’re right,” she says. “It really is that simple now, and it wouldn’t have been before. I can’t say I mind it.”

Derek hesitates, and then he says, “It’s also the difference between having a strong alpha that you trust to do the right thing and—not. I can’t say you’d be so accepting if someone else had been Alpha.”

“Let’s hope we never have to find out,” Tara replies. “Now, are you ready to go out on patrol? We have a couple of follow ups today.”

Derek nods. “Yeah, definitely ready.”

His first few days on the job had been all about preparing for Barrow’s surgery, and then it had been about guarding the hospital. Derek’s ready for something a little more normal.

If normal even exists in Beacon Hills.

~~~~~

Noah heads into the station early mostly to check in with Dave and Paul. He wants to catch them before they go off-shift to find out what Rafe McCall had to say for himself.

Noah gets to the station around six, and is pleased to find that there’s a full pot of coffee. It’s not good coffee—that isn’t in the budget—but Noah is used to shitty coffee between his time in the Army and his time at the station.

He retrieves his favorite mug from his office, the one that says, “#1 Dad,” and fills it.

Dave and Paul enter the break room a few second later, and Paul grimaces. “You’re here early, sir.”

“I was curious as to how the call with Scott’s dad went,” Noah admits freely.

Dave groans. “God, what a fucking asshole. I can see why Scott has issues with authority.”

Noah snorts. “You noticed that?”

“He wears his issues on his sleeve,” Dave says. “Also, I knew a lot of guys like that in the Army.”

“Yeah, well, he comes by his issues honestly, which is why I’m willing to cut him some slack,” Noah admits. “Come on into my office.”

Paul and Dave take the seats across from his desk, and they look at each other, clearly debating who is going to deliver the report.

“We didn’t arrest him,” Paul says finally. “But it was a near thing. He got belligerent, called us a couple of fucking Keystone cops—his exact words— and told us he had the right to see his kid. He finally left when we told him we were quite comfortable arresting him for trespassing and tossing him in a cell until you arrived at the station today.”

Dave shifts slightly. “I might have needled him a bit after he called us Keystone cops.”

Noah raises his eyebrows. “What did you say?”

“I told him that teenagers avoiding their parents was practically an Olympic sport, and congratulated him on his son’s prowess,” Dave admits.

Noah can’t help it; he starts laughing. “Well, you’re not wrong. Thanks for handling it. I’m going to give Agent Marsh a call a little later to see if he knows anything, or can give me any intel.”

“Makes sense,” Paul replies. “But if I were you or Scott’s mom, I’d make sure their meeting takes place in front of witnesses.”

“Mel has already requested that Scott not see his dad without someone else there,” Noah says. “I’m going to put out an unofficial caution to the department.”

Dave smirks. “You mean, you’re going to tell everyone to keep an eye out for him without actually putting out a BOLO.”

“Exactly,” Noah agrees. “Again, I appreciate you two running him off last night. I doubt it would have gone well if I’d done it. We’ve had a somewhat contentious relationship.”

Paul raises his eyebrows. “Because you know he’s a mean drunk?”

“Pretty much,” Noah says. “You’re nearly off the clock. Write up your reports, and bring the dogs by tonight, okay? I think Stiles could do with a visit.”

Dave flashes a quick grin. “Sure thing, Sheriff. They would love to see their BFFs, too.”

“We’ll contribute to dinner,” Paul offers. “I’ll text Stiles to see what you all need.”

Not for the first time, Noah is grateful that everyone in the pack is willing to contribute to food costs. Derek has been buying at least half the groceries, but everyone chips in.

Noah is fairly certain that Mel is just glad not to have to worry about feeding Scott most of the time.

“Thanks, guys,” Noah replies.

He waits until after nine to call Abel Marsh. Those on first shift have all checked in, and are either busy at their desks or out on patrol, and Noah is grateful that the rhythm of the station has gone back to normal.

He’s expecting to get the agent’s voicemail, but Marsh picks up on the second ring. “Agent Marsh.”

“It’s Sheriff Stilinski,” Noah says. “I hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time.”

There’s warmth in Marsh’s voice as he says, “Noah, good to hear from you. I just got into the office and was reviewing some reports. How are things in Beacon Hills?”

“About as quiet as things ever are,” Noah admits. “I was hoping to ask you for a favor.”

“Well, you can ask,” Marsh replies, sounding amused. “I can’t say whether I’ll be able to help, though.”

“I’m hoping you can tell me whether Agent Rafe McCall has been sent to Beacon Hills in an official capacity, or whether he’s here on a more personal mission,” Noah says.

There’s a long pause. “Can I give you a call back in about five minutes? I’d like to find somewhere a little more private.”

That sounds promising, as though Marsh actually has information, so Noah says, “Of course. I’ll be here.”

He hangs up when the line goes dead, and five minutes later, his cell phone rings. “Stilinski.”

“All right, sorry about that,” Marsh says. “It’s a bit of a tricky political situation, and probably not something I’d normally share, but his son is part of your pack, right? Stiles’ friend?”

“That’s right,” Noah confirms, looking out the window, but not really seeing anything. “Scott.”

Marsh hums. “Allison Argent’s boyfriend.”

“He’s coming around,” Noah says. “He’s been much more attached to the pack lately.”

“And that’s why I’m talking to you,” Marsh says on a sigh. “I know that a young wolf can be susceptible to the wrong influence.”

“You think McCall would be the wrong influence?” Noah asks.

“You’d know that better than I would,” Marsh replies. “From what I’ve heard, McCall has been bucking to get assigned to the Argent investigation so he can be closer to his son. The problem is, that’s not anywhere near his area of expertise. Usually, he’s working DOJ investigations.”

Noah frowns. “Am I under federal investigation?”

“Are you kidding me?” Marsh asks. “After how you handled the Argents? You actually invited us in, and not all small departments are willing to do that. You’re good—unless there’s something you need to tell me.”

Noah laughs. “There isn’t.”

“And you probably shouldn’t tell me even if there was something,” Marsh adds with good humor. “That’s the problem. He’s been angling to have an official reason to go to Beacon Hills, probably so he can find a way to strong-arm you into giving him access to his son, and no dice so far.”

“So, he might be here to find a reason to look into things officially,” Noah muses. “Well, isn’t that just peachy.”

“Has he been causing you problems?” Marsh asks.

Noah sighs. “Me? Not officially. Scott doesn’t want to see him, and McCall has shown up at the high school and Scott’s place of employment, so he stayed with us last night. Then McCall turned up at his ex-wife’s house, and a neighbor called her at work. I sent a couple of deputies to run him off, and he picked a fight before backing down.”

“Goddammit,” Marsh mutters. “Honestly, Noah, I advise you to keep things as aboveboard as possible. If he steps over the line, make an official report. I know we all hate doing that to a fellow law enforcement officer, but it will keep your hands clean.”

“Good advice,” Noah admits. “I’ll take it. I appreciate your candor, Abe.”

“I’m glad I was able to help,” Marsh replies. “I better get back to it.”

They say their goodbyes, and Noah lets out an audible groan. He’s been fairly lucky so far with the parents of the underage pack members. He and Mel are friends, and it had been a moot point with Isaac and Boyd. Erica’s parents are apparently so grateful that she’s healthy and has made friends that they’ve decided not to ask any questions.

But Noah has a feeling that Rafe McCall is going to be a problem without an easy solution.

Maria pages Noah on the intercom and says, “Sheriff, Mrs. McCall is here to see you if you have the time.”

“Send her in,” Noah replies.

Mel appears a moment later, still dressed in scrubs, looking tired and harried. “Noah, I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” Noah asks. “None of this is your fault.”

Mel just shakes her head. “I could have insisted that Scott talk to his dad.”

“Is this the same kid we’re talking about?” Noah asks, amused. “You know Scott has a double dose of stubbornness.”

Mel smiles. “Both from his dad, of course.”

“If that’s what you need to tell yourself,” Noah teases. “But I think maybe facilitating a meeting here or at your house is warranted.”

Mel nods. “I did call the school this morning to ask them to ban Rafe from the premises. At the rate he’s going, he’s just going to alienate Scott past the point of any sort of reconciliation.”

“All right, maybe you can get Rafe to meet you this afternoon, and I’ll corral Scott after school,” Noah offers. He checks the pack calendar. “Looks like there’s no cross country practice, and Scott doesn’t have work.”

“I’ll text Rafe,” Mel promises. “I do appreciate your help.”

“We’re family,” Noah replies simply. “I’ll see you this afternoon.”

Noah shoots off a text to Scott, telling him that it would be for the best if he agreed to meet with his dad, with his mom and Noah present, so they could put things to bed.

Scott sends back a frowny face.

Noah responds with, I know it’s the last thing you want to do, but I confirmed that your dad isn’t here in an official capacity.

fine

Noah shrugs philosophically. If he can get Scott and his dad in the same room and avoid bloodshed, he’ll have been successful.

He has to respond to a call from Tara and Derek on a traffic stop that turned into a drug bust. The driver had been pulled over for an infraction, but then both Tara and Derek had smelled marijuana. The driver had made the mistake of agreeing to a search of the vehicle, probably not realizing that with their sensitive noses, they’ll know exactly where to look.

Instead of a spare tire, Derek found five bricks of marijuana in its place. With a bust this size, Tara needs the extra hands, and they’ll be taking the car apart.

The kid driving the car—and he’s young, maybe mid-20’s—is sitting on the grass by the side of the road in cuffs, his forehead resting on his knees. Noah imagines that he hadn’t expected his day to end like this.

Noah and Mark pull up at the same time, Noah behind Tara’s cruiser, Mark ahead of the stopped car.

“Where’s Parrish?” Noah asks as he comes to stand next to Mark by the trunk.

Mark shrugs. “We busted a kid tagging the side of a building, so I left Parrish at the station to write the report. That’s a big bust, rookie,” Mark comments as he looks at the bricks of marijuana in the trunk. “Might even be bigger once we take the car apart.”

“Hey, I smelled it, too,” Tara protests.

“You already know how good you are,” Mark counters. “Derek’s new, and he might not realize how big of a bust this is for our department.”

“I have some idea,” Derek says deadpan, “but I appreciate the accolades.”

Derek pauses. “I feel sorry for him, though,” he comments, looking at the kid. “Maybe I shouldn’t, but…”

Tara claps him on the shoulder. “The day we lose our empathy is the day we need to hand in our badges and guns, Derek. Stupid kids are going to do stupid things, and sometimes the consequences are devastating. We can have compassion.”

“We should have compassion,” Noah says. “Tara, take our miscreant to the station, please. Give Derek the masterclass on how we book people. Mark and I will wait for the tow truck.”

Derek gives Noah a nod, and he’s gentle when he pulls the kid up from the ground. “Come on,” Derek says, not unkindly. “You’re going to be okay. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually.”

Noah honestly couldn’t be prouder in that moment. The angry young man he’d first met wouldn’t have reached out like that, but Derek has turned into a kind and steady presence.

“That was a good hire, sir,” Mark says once they’ve driven off. “Parrish, too. Those boys are going to be excellent additions.”

Noah smiles. “Thanks. I suppose I can’t take credit for all of it, but Derek has come a long way.”

“I think you can take a lot of credit,” Mark says. “I remember what he was like when you pulled him in after his sister’s murder.”

Noah actually laughs at that. “Yeah, he was snarly, wasn’t he?”

“He was more than that, Noah,” Mark says gently. “He was a kid who had just lost his last link to the living. You gave him a family.”

Noah remembers what he’d said to Mel, about Scott being family, and he’d felt that before, but he feels it even more keenly now.

He has a pack. He has a powerful, expansive pack.

“Sir, we have a report of a gunman at the Meadow Hills shopping center,” Maria says over the radio. “I’m sorry. I know you’re in the middle of a bust, but—“

“A gunman threatening the public trumps,” Noah says. “Has anyone been injured?”

“No reports of injuries yet,” Maria says.

Noah turns to Mark. “I’m going to grab Parrish. Do you mind waiting here?”

Mark shakes his head. “Not at all. I’ll stick around and make sure the chain of custody is preserved.”

“Thanks, Rossi,” Noah says, then heads back to his vehicle and puts on the lights and sirens. He radios Maria to ask her to have Parrish waiting outside the station with a vest on.

Maria informs him that she’s already dispatched Tara and Derek, and Noah breathes a sigh of relief. Tara has a good head on her shoulders, and she’ll keep Derek in line.

Parrish is waiting at the back of the station, and he jumps into the passenger seat wearing a vest, with an assault rifle strapped to his chest.

“You good?” Noah asks him.

Parrish nods. “I’ve been in the sandbox, sir. One guy waving a gun around is one guy waving a gun around.”

“Fair enough,” Noah replies, putting on lights and sirens as they race towards the mall.

Tara radios while he’s still three minutes out. “Hale and I made entrance on the south. The suspect is menacing a young woman working a kiosk outside of Sears. We’re clearing the area, but we can’t get closer without risking him killing the girl, not unless we use deadly force.”

“Hold off on that for now, Deputy Graeme, and focus on clearing out the civilians,” Noah orders. “I’d like to try to talk him down if we can.”

“Yes, sir,” she replies stolidly.

“We’re going in through the Sears entrance, and we’ll clear people out along the way,” Noah tells Parrish.

Parrish nods. “Copy that.”

Noah parks right outside the entrance, and they run inside the store. Noah uses hand signals to direct Parrish to the left, thankful that they both have Army training to fall back on, and Parrish understands what Noah intends to do immediately.

They move through the store, sending people out of the entrance, and then someone pulls the fire alarm.

Noah honestly isn’t sure whether that’s going to help or hurt. It’s certainly going to help to get people to leave the building, but it could spook their gunman.

He glances over at Parrish, who just shrugs. They continue making their way through the store, past women’s apparel and the home goods section, then out into the mall itself.

Activating the fire alarm in one store alerts the rest of the mall, so there are people streaming out, everyone other than their gunman and a young woman who’s crying hysterically.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” the gunman is demanding. “Did you think I wouldn’t know that you fucked him?”

The one saving grace of this whole situation is that the gunman is clearly so focused on the woman that he’s not paying attention to the fire alarm or the fact that law enforcement is in the process of surrounding him.

Noah takes in the scene: the young woman had apparently been working at a kiosk selling cell phone accessories. Derek is crouched behind another kiosk about fifty feet away from the gunman. Tara is sheltering inside another store front behind him and to the right.

Parrish looks at Noah, and Noah has an idea. It’s probably a stupid idea, but he doesn’t think the man has seen them yet. Right now, they need to draw his attention away from the woman.

Noah motions Parrish to take up positions inside a store front. “I’m going to do something to break his attention. For the record, this doesn’t go in your report. I can’t risk alerting Tara on the radio, so when I move, I need you to move.”

Parrish just nods. “Yes, sir.”

Noah changes into his fur, then starts running, making sure that he’s in the man’s line of sight.

He hears the man shout, “What the fuck? What’s a wolf doing in here?”

Noah gets to a place of concealment, even as he hears a wordless exclamation and a grunt. Noah quickly transforms back, and he turns to see that Derek had managed to tackle the man, holding him down for Tara to cuff him, while Parrish keeps his aim steady.

The woman is still screaming. “Oh, my god. Oh, my god.”

Noah goes to her immediately, putting a hand on her shoulder and tugging her away. “Come on, it’s okay. You’re okay. Come over here and sit down, take some deep breaths for me.”

“I can’t believe Kyle would do that,” she moans as Noah tugs her away and gets her seated on the ground, her forehead resting on her knees. “I didn’t even sleep with Ryan!”

“It doesn’t matter,” Noah tries to sooth her. “No one deserves to be threatened like that. Has he ever displayed that kind of behavior before?”

“No, never,” she replies. “He’s always been really sweet!”

Noah doesn’t know if he believes her. There have been far too many occasions in his career where someone claimed that the behavior came out of nowhere only for a lot of red flags to be identified later. “All right, what’s your name?”

“Kim, Kim Roberts,” she says, and now she starts to sob hysterically. “Oh, my god, he could have killed someone!”

“But no one was hurt,” Noah points out. “That’s what we need to be grateful for at the moment, okay?”

She nods, but isn’t calming down. Noah is very grateful to turn her over to the paramedics when they arrive. He can’t see any injuries, but she might need to be treated for shock.

Parrish has already radioed dispatch to let them know paramedics are clear to enter, and the EMTs descend moments later. One of them wraps a blanket around Kim’s shoulders as the other takes her vitals.

Tara sidles up to him. “That was an interesting diversion.”

“It worked,” Noah says. “At least he didn’t shoot anyone. Do we have an ID on him?”

Tara hands him the driver’s license she’d apparently fished out of his pocket. “Kyle Jameson. We’ll run the name, but he’s not a frequent flyer, or I’d have recognized him.”

Noah checks his watch. It’s just past the noon hour now, which means he still has a few hours before he has to corral Scott and figure out what’s going on with Rafe McCall.

“And I was thinking this might be a quiet day,” Noah mutters. “Okay, let’s divide and conquer. Can you go with the victim to the hospital and get her statement? Derek can stay here for now and get names and contact information in case we need additional statements. I’ll take Jameson back to the station and get him booked.”

“Take Parrish with you,” Tara says. “Derek got a lesson on booking today. Wouldn’t do to leave Parrish out.”

Noah snorts. “Yeah. Good to know they’re both going to be steady in a volatile situation, I suppose. Most deputies go years without this kind of excitement.”

Tara raises her eyebrows. “Most deputies don’t serve in Beacon Hills.”

“Fair enough,” Noah says. “Parrish, you’re with me.”

Noah walks over to where Derek is waiting with the subject. “Parrish and I are going to book him while Tara accompanies the victim to the hospital. I need you to stay here and get names and contact information, then go pick Tara up.”

Derek glances around at the looky-loos that have started gathering now that the danger has passed, and he sighs. “Yes, sir. I already read him his rights.”

Noah takes Jameson’s arm, and Parrish takes his other arm as they head back out through Sears to Noah’s vehicle. Noah notices that Jameson seems out of it now that he’s in cuffs, blinking slowly and hanging his head.

“Do you need medical assistance?” Noah asks him.

Jameson shakes his head slowly. “No, I’m not hurt.”

The words come out slightly slurred, so it’s possible that he’s on something. Noah makes a mental note to have them do a tox screen at the jail once he’s booked.

Noah loads Jameson in the back of the vehicle, and heads back to the station with Parrish in the passenger seat.

And that’s when it starts to get weird. Really weird.

“What—where am I?” Jameson asks.

Noah might have assumed that he’s faking it except for the thin thread of real panic in his voice. He glances in the rearview mirror, and sees Jameson’s pale, sweaty face. “You’re in the back of a sheriff’s vehicle, heading to the station,” Noah replies, trying to keep his voice gentle.

He’s learned that you generally catch more flies with honey—unless they’re a bunch of insane werewolves, and then you just shoot them in the head.

Jameson shakes his head. “No, I mean—what happened? What did I do?”

“Did you take anything, son?” Noah asks. “Any prescription drugs or other substances?”

Jameson shakes his head. “No! I smoked a little weed yesterday, but I was fine! Oh, my god. Was I at the mall? Is Kim okay?”

Noah exchanges a look with Parrish, who turns in his seat to look at Jameson, saying gently, “You didn’t hurt anybody. You were just waving a gun around, making threats.”

“Give him his Miranda warnings again,” Noah says, keeping an eye on Jameson in the mirror. “He might not have understood when Hale gave them earlier.”

Parrish dutifully recites the Miranda warnings from memory, and asks, “Do you understand these rights?”

Jameson says in almost a moan, “Yes, but I don’t understand why I’m here!”

Noah decides to take his words at face value. “Did you have any concerns about Kim cheating on you with someone named Ryan?”

“What? No!” Jameson protests, then pauses. “Well, not really. They’d been texting a lot lately, but Kim said it was for a group project. She doesn’t have a reason to cheat on me.”

Jameson chokes on something and begins to cough, and Noah is grateful they’re so close to the station. Noah hears Jameson say, “Huh. I wonder when I swallowed a fly.”

Then he starts to seize in the backseat.

“Sheriff—“ Parrish begins.

“I see him,” Noah replies grimly, turning on lights and sirens and making a U-turn to head for the hospital.

Maybe they should have taken him there first thing, but there hadn’t been any signs of injury. The most likely explanation is that he’d taken something and is having a bad reaction to it, but this is Beacon Hills, so it’s possible that it’s supernatural.

Then Noah thinks about that strange comment about swallowing a fly, and remembers that Barrow had a tumor full of flies. Stiles and Moira thought there was some kind of vengeance spirit on the loose.

Maybe there really hadn’t been any warning signs that Jameson could get violent.

“God fucking dammit,” Noah mutters. “I hope this doesn’t end up spiraling out of control.”

Parrish glances at him. “You know what he meant about the fly, sir?”

“Barrow’s tumor was full of them,” Noah replies. “And no, I don’t have any idea what that means, but I’m going to need you to collect that fly.”

Parrish nods. “Yes, sir.”

“You’ll have to be quick about it once we get to the hospital,” Noah advises. “There’s a small kit in the glove compartment.”

Parrish fishes out the kit as Noah radioes dispatch, and they hit the hospital with lights and sirens still going. Parrish scoops up the fly, and a medical team converges on them with a gurney.

Parrish hands Noah the vial with the dead fly, and Noah says, “Stay with him. I’ll check in with Tara, then send her your way.”

Parrish nods and trots after the medical team, who are wheeling Jameson away on a gurney.

Noah pauses by the reception desk in the ER and asks after their victim, but Tara must have heard his voice, because she pokes her head out of a room. “In here, sir.”

Noah murmurs a thanks to the nurse and goes to join Tara. “How is she?”

“She was treated for shock and given something to calm her down,” Tara reports. “She’s still insisting that he’s never displayed that kind of behavior before, and the only precipitating event she could recall was working on a group project with a classmate. The suspect asked her why she’d been texting him so much, she showed him the messages, and he seemed to accept it at face value.”

Noah shrugs. “It’s possible that he did.” He holds up the vial with the fly in it. “Jameson seemed out of it after we took him into custody, and he coughed this up on the way to the station, right before he had a seizure.”

“A fly?” Tara asks skeptically. “I know we’ve seen some weird shit, sir, but…”

“Barrow had a tumor full of flies that broke open during the surgery,” Noah points out. “I plan on bringing this to Moira.”

Tara nods slowly. “If it’s magical in nature, what does that mean for us?”

Noah takes a deep breath. “Bluntly, it means we might be looking at a lot of incidents like this one.”

“But if they’re possessed, they can’t be held responsible…” She trails off. “Except who’s going to believe that they were possessed by a fucking fly?”

“Exactly,” Noah replies. “We can’t worry about that right now. The chips will fall where they may. Did you get enough from the vic?”

Tara nods. “I assume you left one of the boys with Jameson.”

“Parrish, and yes,” Noah says. “Would you stay with him until Derek can pick you both up? I hate to do this, but if I don’t get things straightened out between Scott and his dad, I think it will get worse.”

Tara waves him off. “Don’t worry about it, sir. Let’s nip at least one problem in the bud today. Although, if Stiles can come up with a spell to swat all flies in a 12-mile radius, that might be for the best.”

Noah laughs. “I’ll ask. I doubt anyone would complain.”

At this point, Noah has about thirty minutes to get to the high school and pick Scott up. Mel had confirmed the plan just a little earlier.

Noah pulls up in front of the high school when a text from Stiles comes through: good luck

Noah knows that’s a subtle warning that Scott is not dealing with the situation well, and Noah can’t blame him. He knows how rocky things had been between Rafe and Mel at the end, and how angry Scott had been with his father over some of his behavior.

And now Rafe is stalking him, which is going to piss Scott off, and cause his wolf to be territorial and growly.

“I really did think today was going to be quiet,” Noah mutters to himself.

Scott approaches the vehicle with his backpack over his shoulder, flanked by Boyd and Isaac on one side with Danny on the other. A young woman trails behind, clearly wanting to be part of the group and not quite there yet.

Based on the description Stiles gave him, Noah thinks she has to be Kira Yakimura. Noah has the windows rolled down, so he easily catches the faint scent of ozone that seems to hang around her, and he has to admit that his kid had been right.

Whatever she is, Kira is certainly not human. Or not wholly human.

“You sure you don’t want one of us to come?” Isaac asks anxiously as they approach. “We can just hang around outside the house even.”

Scott manages a smile. “No, it’s okay. My mom and the sheriff will be there. I’ll be fine.”

“Text us later if you just want company,” Boyd says. “Or we can crash at the house tonight.”

“The house” is always a reference to Noah’s house.

Scott looks past them at Kira. “I’ll call you later? Maybe we can study?”

“Sure,” Kira says with a hopeful smile.

Scott climbs into the passenger seat and drops his pack on the floor. “Sorry about that.”

“Sorry for what?” Noah asks. “And tell Kira she can join you at the house if she wants. Or you can go to her house, since your dad doesn’t know where she lives.”

Scott snorts. “She doesn’t want to deal with my mess.”

“Word to the wise, everybody has some level of mess,” Noah advises. “And that girl definitely has more going on than what’s immediately obvious.”

“I think it’s getting stronger,” Scott admits. “I mean, I could sense it a bit when I first met her, but not as much.”

“I could smell the ozone,” Noah says. “So, let’s not reveal our secrets, but she’s welcome to come over.”

Scott nods. “Thanks, Noah.”

“That being said,” Noah begins. “I’m going to need you to keep your cool today. We cannot risk your dad finding out about werewolves right now. Maybe we can tell him eventually, but his behavior so far has been somewhat erratic.”

Scott tips his head back. “What does he want?”

“He’s been trying to find an official reason to be in Beacon Hills, according to my contact,” Noah replies. “Which means he’s here for you.”

“What if I don’t want him here?” Scott mutters. “It’s not like I need or want him around. I have the pack. I have you.”

“Do me a favor, and don’t say that, okay?” Noah asks. “If he feels like you’ve replaced him, that’s going to make things worse.”

Scott takes a deep breath. “I need to treat this like dealing with the Argents, like he’s the enemy, but he doesn’t know I’m looking at him like the enemy.”

Noah is proud of Scott for figuring that out. “Pretty much.”

“And not make him super interested in the pack and trying to win me back or whatever,” Scott adds. “I suck at lying.”

“You’re not lying,” Noah says as he drives away from the school. “You can be angry with him, because he’s going to expect that. You can tell him that you’ve learned how to live without him. That much is true. Let him convince you that he wants some amount of contact, and agree to go slowly.”

Scott gives him a look. “You do realize that Stiles is the one who wants to go into the FBI, not me. I want to be a veterinarian.”

“Do you love this pack?” Noah asks, although he already knows the answer.

Scott nods. “More than anything, other than my mom.”

“Well, your mom is part of the pack, so there’s no competition,” Noah replies. “But we all protect the pack in our own ways. You’re going to be fine.”

But Noah thinks about the vial with the fly in his pocket, and feels a niggling sense of doubt.

There are never any guarantees in life, but Jameson going a little bit crazy through no fault of his own? It’s the stuff of nightmares.

Noah pushes that doubt to the side, though, and then pulls up in front of the McCall house. He can see Mel’s car in the driveway, next to a four-door sedan that’s completely unremarkable.

“Just be cool as a cucumber,” Noah advises.

Scott gives him a look. “Now you sound like Stiles.”

“Where do you think he gets it from?” Noah asks.

Scott trudges into the house with every evidence of reluctance, and maybe he feels the same. Noah follows a couple of steps behind.

Noah probably should feel as though he’s intruding on private family business, but Scott and Mel are both part of his pack, and Rafe McCall isn’t. He feels a protective urge.

McCall is standing in the middle of the living room, wearing a suit and tie, his stance already aggressive. That doesn’t bode well.

Mel is standing over to the side, her arms tightly crossed, and Noah knows her well enough to see the stress in her expression.

McCall’s eyes immediately go to Noah. “What is he doing here?”

“I asked him to come,” Scott replies. “Since things seem to be escalating.”

“I just want to talk to you,” McCall replies, clearly striving to keep his tone even.

Scott crosses his arms. “So? Talk.”

McCall is clearly floundering at that. Noah gets the sense that McCall would have preferred to have an official reason to be here, just to have a place to start.

Scott has a good heart, and his expression softens slightly. “Dad, I just wish you’d stop showing up places. You haven’t even texted me. You’ve been ambushing me.”

“I’m sorry,” McCall finally says. “I didn’t realize how that would look.”

Noah barely refrains from rolling his eyes. He refuses to believe that a highly trained FBI agent wouldn’t know how it looks; ambushing Scott had been the point.

“Okay, Dad,” Scott says. “I think we can probably have a conversation if you promise to stop stalking me.”

McCall actually cracks a smile at that. “I promise.”

Scott glances at Noah. “I think I’m good.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Mel says.

“You okay?” Noah asks by the front door.

Mel sighs. “He tried to tell me he was here on official business and bluster his way through, but I called him out, and he admitted that he just wants to reconnect with Scott.”

Noah nods. “Okay, well—be careful. I had someone with no criminal history waving a gun around the mall today.”

“Something tells me that it’s part of the Beacon Hills weirdness,” Mel says wearily.

Noah hitches a shoulder. “I’ll be asking Moira for her expert opinion, but yeah.”

“I’ll be careful,” Mel promises. “And I still have that Taser you gave me.”

Noah offers a hug, and she accepts, clinging tightly for a moment. “Thank you for whatever you said to Scott,” Mel whispers.

“I wish I could take credit,” Noah says. “That was pretty much all him. You raised a good kid.”

“You deserve a little bit of that credit,” Mel says.

Noah holds his thumb and forefinger about an inch apart. “I’ll take that much.”

Mel laughs. “I’ll give you a call later.”

Noah just hopes that things don’t go off the rails.

~~~~~

Stiles knows that Scott is dreading the meeting with his dad, and he really wishes that he could make him feel better. “You know it doesn’t matter, right?” Stiles says as they’re collecting their lunch trays. “No matter what, you’ll have my dad as the Alpha.”

“Yeah, I know,” Scott replies. “I’ll be fine. I just want to get it over with and get past it.”

Lydia has been sitting with them at lunch regularly, but she looks troubled today.

“You okay, Lydia?” Stiles asks her as he sits down.

Lydia grimaces. “No. I’ve been having nightmares about deaths, but I can’t figure out who I’m screaming for. And Mom wants me to see a psychiatrist, even though I told her it would be useless.”

“Danny and I are meeting with the coven after school tomorrow,” Stiles says. “Why don’t you come with us? Maybe we’ll be able to hone in on it somehow.”

Lydia shrugs. “It’s not the worst idea I’ve heard.”

That’s high praise coming from Lydia Martin, so Stiles just shrugs.

Danny sits down a moment later, and Stiles says, “I invited Lydia to go with us after school tomorrow.”

“Tutu will probably enjoy meeting her,” Danny says easily.

“You’re seeing your dad after school, right?” Isaac asks Scott.

Scott grimaces. “Yeah. But the sheriff said he’d be there, so it will be fine.”

“The sheriff is awesome,” Erica agrees. “I have no idea what he said to my parents, but they’ve been cool.”

“Really cool,” Cora corrects. “They were basically okay with me moving in.”

“Probably because they don’t have to feed you,” Erica comments. “Or me. I mean, I’m pretty sure they don’t care about us sleeping there because they have literally zero worries.”

“They offloaded all that onto the sheriff,” Cora adds. “But we get what we want, so who are we to complain?”

“Exactly,” Erica agrees.

Stiles really does appreciate the fact that everyone else has come to understand just how awesome his dad is. “My dad is the best.”

“No question,” Boyd murmurs his agreement. “But it’s a little weird to have reliable adults around.”

“Very weird,” Isaac agrees.

“Are we talking to Mr. Yukimura after lunch?” Danny asks Stiles.

Stiles nods. “Yeah, I think so.”

“About what?” Lydia asks.

Stiles glances at Danny, who replies, “We’ll tell you after school.”

That’s probably the right call, so Stiles doesn’t disagree.

Lunch over, they dump their trays, and Stiles loops Batman’s leash over his wrist. History is their next class, so he and Danny head there immediately to catch Mr. Yukimura before anyone else arrives.

Stiles likes Mr. Yukimura and his teaching style, and he hopes that he can at least point them in the right direction.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Mr. Yukimura says as they enter the classroom. “Have you decided what your project is going to be yet?”

“We actually had a question for you,” Stiles says. “About the history of Beacon Hills.”

Mr. Yukimura crosses his arms, his expression somewhat amused. “You do realize I’m from New York, right?”

“But you seem to know a lot about the area,” Stiles says, hoping he sounds persuasive.

“Go on,” Mr. Yukimura says. “If I can answer your question, I will.”

Stiles glances at Danny, who asks, “Was there an internment camp in this area?”

Surprise flickers in their teacher’s eyes, and he seems taken aback. “Why would you ask about an internment camp?”

“Curiosity?” Stiles ventures. He’s not sure he and Danny should cop to the fact that they think there was some past event that would demand a call for vengeance.

“And that’s it?” Mr. Yukimura says. “Just curiosity?”

Danny hesitates. “My grandmother says that Beacon Hills has a tendency to attract certain things, and more so when there have been certain—events. It’s like there’s a magnet running through the town.”

“You’re talking about the telluric currents,” Mr. Yukimura eventually says.

Stiles looks at Danny, and he shrugs. “Tutu didn’t say we couldn’t.”

Stiles takes a deep breath and holds out a hand, calling a small flame. If Kira isn’t human, then it stands to reason that one or more of her parents might not be either. He doesn’t have permission to say anything about the pack, but the reveal of his magic is different.

Plus, it might get them the answers they need that much faster. Stiles has a feeling that time might be of the essence.

Mr. Yukimura takes a deep, audible breath. “I see.” He glances towards the door. “We can talk more about this after school.”

Stiles assumes that means there’s something more to talk about. He and Danny make their way to their seats, and Danny leans in close to Stiles. “Was that wise?”

Stiles shrugs. “I don’t know, but it felt important. We need those answers, and he might be more willing to tell us what we need to know if he knows I have magic.”

Danny blows out a breath. “You’re going to be the one to tell Moira.”

“We can tell her together,” Stiles counters. “You were the one who brought up the telluric currents.”

“That’s fair,” Danny admits after a moment.

They’re discussing the Pacific theater during WWII, and Stiles does find the subject matter interesting. With Batman leaning against his leg under the desk, it’s easier to stay present, even with the worry sitting in the back of his head.

He has krav maga after school, so hopefully the conversation with Mr. Yukimura won’t take too long.

Stiles finishes out his day in gym, but doesn’t bother with the shower since he’s just going to get sweaty again. He claps Scott on the shoulder. “It’s going to be cool, dude. My dad is great backup.”

“I know,” Scott says glumly. “And I know it needs to be done. Dad doesn’t stop once he gets an idea in his head, and I don’t want him to keep showing up places unannounced.”

“Just remember that you have the pack,” Stiles says. “And pack is forever, even if your dad is an asshole.”

Scott manages a smile. “Yeah, I know. Thanks. Do you think Mr. Yukimura will tell you what’s going on?”

Stiles shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t even know if the answers he can give us will help.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Scott says. “Or you and Moira will.”

Stiles slings an arm over Scott’s shoulders. “Just remember to keep your cool, okay?”

“I will,” Scott promises.

Stiles squeezes his shoulder and then disengages. He meets Danny outside the locker room, and Danny raises his eyebrows. “No shower?”

“No judgment,” Stiles says. “I have krav maga after this, so I’m just going to get gross again.”

Danny shakes his head. “Is that why you gave up on lacrosse? I thought you just hated physical activity.”

“I hate physical activity that I suck at,” Stiles replies. “Turns out, I don’t suck at judo or krav maga.”

Danny gives him a sideways grin. “You really did kind of suck, although you had your moments of brilliance.”

Stiles hitches a shoulder. “Turns out what I’m best at is that thing we both do, so I can live with it.”

“Once more into the breach?” Danny asks.

“I guess so,” Stiles says. “It would be nice if there wasn’t a breach at some point.”

“Guess we’d better get on cleansing the Nemeton and the telluric currents then,” Danny says wryly.

Stiles laughs and pets Batman’s ears. “No pressure, though.”

Mr. Yukimura is waiting for them in his classroom. “I had to speak with my wife. There are secrets that aren’t mine to tell, but she’s agreed to speak with your grandmother, Mr. Mahealani, if you would arrange it.”

Danny blinks. “It’s not just my grandmother. It’s our coven.”

“She assumed as much,” Mr. Yukimura says with a knowing smile. “She sensed the wards, and she said she thought there was a coven in Beacon Hills.”

“I have krav maga after this,” Stiles blurts out.

“I’ll text Tutu,” Danny says. “We can meet up at our place after you’re done, and you can eat at ours.”

“That works,” Stiles replies, then looks to Mr. Yukimura. “Does that work for you?”

He smiles. “Well, it’s a better situation than we thought we’d face when we got here. We thought the nogitsune would have already possessed someone, and we’d be dealing with the resulting chaos.”

Stiles hitches a shoulder. “Small favors, I guess. I’ve been worried about the nogitsune for months now, ever since it broke free of the Nemeton.”

“Are you worried about yourself?” Mr. Yukimura asks.

Stiles pulls the neck of his t-shirt down to display his tattoo. “Nah. I got this.”

“Damn, dude,” Danny says. “Is that—there’s a magical signature?”

Stiles shrugs. “Yeah. Moira has a guy.”

“I might need to talk to her later,” Danny replies.

“It’s a conversation worth having,” Stiles agrees.

Mr. Yukimura is watching the entire conversation with an odd expression on his face. “I have to say, Beacon Hills has been something of a surprise.”

Stiles hitches a shoulder. “Some of the surprises have been good, I hope.”

He chuckles. “A few of them, yes.”

“I’d better get going,” Stiles says. “You’ll text me, Danny?”

“Sure thing,” Danny agrees easily.

Stiles needs to move if he doesn’t want to be late, so he jogs out to his Jeep with Batman and secures him in the backseat.

The dojo is only about fifteen minutes away, and Stiles grabs his gym bag and heads inside with a few minutes to spare.

“Hi, Stiles,” Leigh calls. “Busy day?”

“Moderately,” Stiles admits. “But not too bad.”

He’d changed into a pair of joggers and a fitted t-shirt after gym, so he’s ready to go. Stiles finds a place on the floor and starts to stretch. Batman stretches out next to him, his head on his paws.

Sensei O.B. appears right on time, and he and Leigh lead the class as usual. Stiles likes the rhythm and discipline of the class, learning how to strike and block, how to stay on your feet and respond to various situations and get out of holds.

It’s a good secondary practice to judo, which teaches a lot of the same skills, but with more of an emphasis on self defense. By the end of the hour, he’s sore and sweaty, but feels more at ease.

Not that krav maga is going to help him stave off possession, but that’s what the tattoo is for.

“Good work today, Stiles,” Sensei O.B. says gruffly. “You’re coming along.”

“I’m trying to not flail so much,” Stiles admits. “So, thanks.”

“It takes some people longer than others to grow into their limbs,” Sensei O.B. says with a wry smile. “Keep it up.”

Stiles checks his phone as he leaves the dojo and sees a text from Scott: all good having dinner with mom and dad 2nite

That’s a little surprising, but maybe Scott agreed to it in order to calm things down. Stiles figures he’ll get the full story either later in the evening or the next day.

He also has a text from Moira: We’re having dinner with the coven tonight. We’ll meet with the Yukimuras after.

Stiles kind of loves that Moira refuses to use anything other than complete sentences and proper punctuation while texting.

Once he gets home, Stiles takes Batman’s vest off and lets him out into the backyard. He’s not surprised to find the house empty with his dad and Derek at work, Scott with his parents, and everyone else picking up shifts after school on days when there isn’t cross country or lacrosse.

Stiles heads upstairs and gets cleaned up, pulling on a pair of his nicest jeans and a long-sleeve polo. He figures it never hurts to make a good first impression, and based on what Mr. Yukimura had said about needing to talk to his wife, Stiles thinks she might be an obstacle.

He shoots off a text to his dad to let him know where he’ll be for dinner, and calls Batman back in to put his vest back on. “Sorry, buddy,” Stiles says. “It’s going to be a working evening tonight, but I promise I’ll get Dave to bring your BFFs over and we can get some play time in.”

Batman whuffs and licks Stiles’ face, as if to reassure him that he doesn’t mind an evening on duty.

“You’re the best boy, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise,” Stiles says, pressing his forehead to the top of Batman’s head.

Batman rests his chin on Stiles’ shoulder, and Stiles lets himself just stay there for a long moment.

There’s a brief knock on the door and then the sound of a key in the lock. Everyone in the pack has a key to the house, but Stiles is fairly certain that it’s Moira.

Sure enough, she buzzes inside with her characteristic energy, wearing dark green pants, a green and white patterned blouse, matching green Chucks, and a brown leather jacket.

She sees him on the floor with Batman, and asks sympathetically, “Rough day, mo chroi?”

Stiles shakes his head. “Not especially. I just really wanted to hug my dog.”

She smiles and smooths down his collar when he stands up. “That’s what he’s there for.”

“You’re not mad about me showing magic to Mr. Yukimura, are you?” Stiles asks anxiously.

Moira shakes her head. “No, it’s your magic, and you had good reason to do so. There will be times when it serves us to reveal the coven without revealing the pack, and vice versa.”

Stiles just shakes his head. “I don’t know, Moira. I just got a feeling.”

“Listen to your gut,” Moira advises. “You’re a smart boy, and you’ve learned how to use your head.”

“You mean, I’ve learned how to let the adults adult?” Stiles asks slyly.

Moira laughs. “Yes, I do mean that. Come on. Noelani is a great cook, and I would hate to be late.”

She drives them in her Prius, with Batman in the backseat. Alana is the one to meet them at the front door, and she busses Moira’s cheek then does the same to Stiles.

“Well, won’t this be fun?” she says brightly with a hint of mischief in her eyes. “You do meet the most interesting people, Stiles.”

“Maybe I’m as much of a beacon as the town,” Stiles jokes, but immediately realizes that the joke falls flat.

“Don’t even put that in the universe, Stiles,” Moira replies seriously.

Stiles winces. “Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Alana says comfortingly. “But Moira is correct. Best not to invite that sort of thing, because the Nemeton is already acting as a pull. I can guarantee that the werewolves and the banshee you know are not the only supernatural creatures in Beacon Hills.”

Stiles blows out a breath. “Yeah, I figured.”

“I checked with Moira, and she said you weren’t allergic to shellfish, but I probably should have asked whether you liked shrimp,” Alana says, putting an arm around Stiles’ shoulders.

Stiles enjoys the more masculine energy of the pack, as well as the more feminine energy of the coven. “I do,” Stiles admits. “We don’t have it very often, but I like it.”

“Good,” Alana says. “Mom is making garlic shrimp.”

Stiles figures that must be a traditional dish, based on her tone, but he knows almost nothing about Hawaiian cuisine, other than what he’s previously eaten from the Mahealanis.

“I’m sure it will be great,” Stiles says. “Everything you all have cooked has been.”

“Well, we’ll have a good meal before the Yukimuras arrive,” Alana says.

Noelani is standing next to Danny at the stove, but she turns as Stiles and Moira enter the kitchen. “Come over here, you two.”

She gives Moira a kiss on the lips, chaste but intimate, and then gives Stiles a kiss on the forehead. “There’s our bold one.”

“Sorry?” Stiles offers.

Noelani snorts. “Fortune favors the bold sometimes, child. And you had reason. Set the table, will you?”

“Is Mr. Mahealini joining us tonight?” Stiles asks.

Alana shakes her head. “No, he’s on a business trip, so it will just be the coven for dinner.”

Stiles knows his way around the kitchen at this point, and he puts out plates—real plates—and silverware, as well as the cloth napkins that Alana favors.

The platter of shrimp and a large bowl of rice goes on the table, as well as a dish full of steamed broccoli. Stiles is hungry, but he’s cautious about taking too much.

The shrimp is succulent, slightly spicy and intensely flavored with garlic, and the rice is fluffy but also fragrant and slightly sticky.

“This is good,” Stiles says enthusiastically. “Really, really good.”

“We should go to Hawaii sometime, Stiles,” Danny says. “Have you ever thought about surfing?”

Stiles grimaces. “Not really?”

Danny grins. “Well, if we go, you should try it, but no pressure.”

Stiles likes the idea of going to Hawaii, although he has no idea when that would happen, or how they’d be able to afford it. “It would be fun.”

“Maybe a graduation gift for the pack,” Moira muses.

Stiles thinks that would be awesome, but he knows better than to hold his breath. With their luck, something will come up and prevent them from going anywhere.

Still, it’s a nice thought: graduation, vacation, college. A career. Maybe not the career he dreamed of before Kate happened—who ever heard of an FBI agent with a service dog?—but a career.

“Don’t worry, mo chroi,” Moira says, apparently doing that mind reading thing that she’s so good at sometimes. “It’s my job to make sure you get a chance to experience any number of beautiful things.”

“It’s a little ways off,” Noelani says. “And that gives us plenty of time to plan.”

Danny looks a little wistful. “A big vacation with the whole friend group would be a lot of fun.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Alana says firmly. “Now, let’s talk about what we’re going to tell the Yukimuras.”

“They already know about the coven,” Stiles says. “And we know they have something a little extra going on.”

Moira shakes her head. “We can’t talk about the pack, but it’s likely to come up.”

“Along with everything else that has happened,” Stiles says. “I understand.”

“It’s going to be fairly difficult to talk about things without werewolves coming into the picture,” Danny points out.

Stiles frowns. “Should I call my dad?”

“Let’s hold off,” Alana says. “In the past, foxes and wolves haven’t really gotten along.”

Stiles grimaces. “So, does that mean we have to worry about another Argent situation?”

“Not getting along doesn’t mean mortal enemies,” Moira says with amusement. “And we all know that generalizations are just that.”

“True,” Stiles says, comforted. He likes what he’s seen of Kira so far, and he really hopes that she and Scott will be good for each other.

Moira nods. “As long as we’re agreed that we’re not going to say anything about the pack.”

“I agree,” Noelani says.

Alana and Danny both nod, and Stiles adds, “They probably searched my name, so they’d have a pretty good idea what triggered my magic.”

“We’ll keep the focus on that aspect,” Moira says. “And we’ll see what they have to say.”

Stiles helps with the clean up, having been around enough to be considered one of the family.

“Hey, you worried about this?” Danny asks, squeezing Stiles’ shoulder.

Stiles shakes his head. “No, I’m good.”

Danny nods. “Let me know if that changes.”

The thing that Stiles has learned over the last couple of years is that it’s possible to have multiple homes. He has his dad, he has the pack, he has the coven, and he has the dojo.

They’re not all equal, but they are all important.

The kitchen is sparkling once again by the time the Yukimuras show up at half-past seven. Alana leads them into the living room, and Mrs. Yukimura stops cold at the sight of Moira and Noelani sitting next to each other on the couch.

“I should have known,” she says after a moment. “I thought the warding signature was familiar, but it was different enough that I didn’t put two and two together.” Mrs. Yukimura glances at Stiles. “I assume that’s because your student was involved.”

Moira smiles. “It’s good to see you again, Noshiko. It’s been too long.”

Mrs. Yukimura sighs, looking at Noelani. “I definitely should have recognized your magical signature.”

“I didn’t have anything to do with setting the wards,” Noelani replies, clearly amused. “That was all Moira and Stiles. I came after my daughter and grandson told me that an old friend had come to town and was interested in forming a coven.”

Mrs. Yukimura just shakes her head. “This is my husband, Ken.”

“My student, Stiles Stilinski, Noelani’s grandson, Danny, and her daughter, Alana.”

They all sit down in the living room, and Alana asks, “Would you two like some tea?”

Mrs. Yukimura says, “I would, thank you.”

“I would also take tea,” Mr. Yukimura replies. He seems content to let Mrs. Yukimura take the lead.

Alana smiles. “I’ll be right back.”

Mrs. Yukimura takes a deep breath. “I’m not sure how to begin now.”

“Let me help you,” Moira says gently. “The nogitsune was trapped in the Nemeton. It’s a vengeance spirit that is taking the form of flies for right now, and the wards have slightly weakened it.”

“I am older than I look,” Mrs. Yukimura begins.

Stiles feels the pieces fall into place. “Wait, you’re a kitsune. That’s where Kira gets it from. You called the nogitsune. You were—you had reason to call for vengeance.”

Mrs. Yukimura’s eyebrows keep going up, and she turns to Moira. “Is he always like this?”

“Stiles is always and forever himself,” Moira replies. “He’s been my best student, and his instincts are quite good, when he allows himself to think through things.”

Stiles winces, but he knows that Moira is right about that. Too often, he tries to handle things on his own, although he’s getting better.

“Ah, well, I also have a teenager,” Mrs. Yukimura says. “How did you know about Kira?”

“Her aura flares,” Stiles admits once Moira gives him a nod. “Sorry, and not to get her into trouble, but it’s pretty obvious.”

“She’s young,” Mrs. Yukimura says after a pause. “As she gains more control, it won’t be so obvious. She’s a very young fox.”

“How long can kitsunes live?” Stiles asks, his curiosity piqued.

Mrs. Yukimura replies. “It depends. I’m 900 years old, but Kira is just as old as she appears.”

Stiles manages to hold back his holy shit with some effort.

Mr. Yukimura smiles. “I can see you just bursting with questions, Stiles.”

“I have so many questions,” Stiles says. “I mean, history is super interesting, and you’ve seen so much of it.”

Mrs. Yukimura laughs, but she sounds a little sad. “I have, including things that caused me to call for vengeance.”

“There was an internment camp here,” Stiles says, locking eyes with her.

“There was,” she confirms. “And the man I loved was killed in the worst possible way. They sought to cover it up, and I had to prevent that from happening.”

“But they covered it up anyway,” Stiles guesses.

“The camp was in the same location that Eichen House is now,” Mrs. Yukimura agrees.

Stiles drums his fingers on his leg, his other hand going to pet Batman’s ears. “Huh.”

Moira turns toward him. “Do you have an idea?”

“I’m still thinking about it,” Stiles replies. “I’ll let you know.”

Moira smiles. “As I said, Stiles has good instincts when he has time to think about it.”

Stiles thinks about the echoes of the past, how they reverberate, and he wonders if Eichen House might still be haunted by those ghosts.

“Do we need to be worried about additional problems?” Danny asks.

Mrs. Yukimura says, “This sort of spirit lives to cause chaos and strife. It feeds off of it. I think we can count on it.”

Moira takes a deep breath. “Well, then, the only thing we can do is exactly what we’ve been doing. We’ll take the precautions that we can.”

Stiles definitely gets the feeling that there’s more going on than what the Yukimuras have said—someone who’s lived for 900-plus years is bound to have a few tricks up her sleeve.

Still, they’ve barely met, and Moira isn’t telling them everything either.

When they leave, Stiles says, “I don’t think they were telling us everything.”

Noelani snorts. “No, they weren’t. If nothing else, I would assume that they have a way of sensing when someone is possessed.”

“Because she said that no one had been possessed,” Danny says. “I noticed that, too.”

Moira hums. “We’ll need to talk to your father about Eichen House, Stiles. If there’s anything trapped there, we’ll need to cleanse it, and that might prove tricky.”

Stiles nods. “Yeah, okay. He was on the day shift today, but I’ll send him a text to see if we should stop by the station or just go straight to the house.”

His dad responds almost right away, letting Stiles know that he’s still at the station, and he and Moira should drop by.

Stiles frowns at his phone. “Dad’s still at the station, and I think he wants to see you, Moira.”

“Ah, then perhaps we have an answer as to whether the nogitsune is influencing things,” Moira murmurs. “I’ll see you both tomorrow,” she adds, looking at Noelani and Alana.

The sheriff’s station isn’t that far from the Mahealanis’ house, so it takes about 20 minutes to get there.

Dave and Paul are seated at their desks, and Tara and Derek are there, too.

“Uh, oh,” Stiles says under his breath. “Something definitely went down today.”

Moira puts a hand on his shoulder. “Easy there, young spark.”

Derek looks up and waves. “Your dad said you guys should go straight back to his office when you got here.”

“How’s it going, Stiles?” Dave calls.

“I’m good,” Stiles replies. “I see you guys are busy.”

“Derek had his first drug bust today,” Tara says. “And then we got interrupted before we could finish our reports, so here we still are.”

Stiles takes a detour to offer Derek a fist bump. “Congratulations, dude.”

Derek actually cracks a smile at that. “Thanks.”

Stiles follows Moira back to his dad’s office, and his dad is behind his desk, a weary expression on his face, although he smiles at the sight of Stiles. “Hey, kiddo. How did dinner go?”

“Good,” Stiles replies. “We have some info, but it sounds like you may have more.”

“Have a seat,” he says, and reaches into his desk drawer, handing a plastic vial to Moira, reaching across the desk to do so. “You tell me.”

Moira opens the vial and shakes a dead fly out onto her palm. She frowns at it, and it goes up in a flare of green fire. “It has the same magical signature as what was found in Barrow’s tumor. What happened?”

“A kid with no rap sheet, and no history of violence, threatened his girlfriend at the mall with a gun,” Noah says grimly. “We were transporting him back here when he coughed that up. He ended up having a seizure, so he’s currently in the hospital.”

“Was anyone hurt?” Stiles asks, feeling a dawning sense of horror.

Noah shakes his head. “No, thank god. No one was harmed, although there were a few traumatized folks, including the girlfriend.”

“Well, I guess there’s that,” Stiles mutters.

“Can we expect more of this?” Noah asks Moira.

Moira nods slowly. “I think we have to.” Then she starts going over what they’d found out from the Yukimuras.

“I want to meet them,” Noah says firmly. “I don’t want to scare them off, but I think they need to know the lay of the land, and I want our cards on the table.”

Moira nods. “I agree that would be wise.”

“All right,” Noah says. “You have your regular coven meeting tomorrow, right?”

Moira nods. “And the full moon is the day after that.”

“Pack meeting on the full moon,” Noah finally says after he stares up at the ceiling for a long moment. “Everyone will be off work. We tell everyone what’s going on and lay all of our cards on the table.”

Moira nods. “I agree. At the very least, the pack needs to be on the look out for odd behavior.”

Noah glances at Stiles. “What about you, kiddo? You got any thoughts?”

“I have a lot of thoughts,” Stiles admits. “But nothing super concrete yet, other than we probably need to find a reason to visit Eichen House, sooner rather than later.”

His dad leans back in his chair, rocking back and forth. “Let me give that some thought.”

Stiles opens his mouth, because he has a fairly wild idea, and Noah raises his hand. “You’re not going undercover.”

Stiles deflates. “It was just a thought. I mean, I have a service dog, so I look crazy enough.”

His dad fixes him with a look. “Have you thought about the fact that they’re not going to allow you to have him with you?”

Stiles pauses. “That…had not crossed my mind, no.”

“I didn’t think it had,” his dad replies, sounding amused. “If anyone goes in undercover, it’s not going to be you, kiddo.”

“I could at least use magic to get myself out,” Stiles says. “And I have an anti-possession tattoo.”

“You’re still my son,” his dad replies. “And it’s still not happening.”

It’s not like Stiles really wants to get locked into a mental health facility, so he doesn’t argue further. “Got it.”

“Go on home, and tell Derek to leave, too, if he hasn’t already,” his dad says. “I’ll probably be there in an hour or so.”

Stiles nods. “Sure thing.”

He’s not terribly surprised when Moira remains seated.

Derek is still at his desk, although Tara has apparently left. “Thought I’d offer you a ride,” Derek says. “I’m assuming Moira drove.”

“She did,” Stiles admits, although that’s probably not a surprise, given that Moira prefers to drive if given an opportunity.

Derek stands up, and Stiles has to admit that the sight of Derek in uniform is certainly reaffirming his bisexuality. He should probably try to tamp that down, but in his own defense, so many people at his dad’s station look really hot in uniform.

Stiles just can’t allow himself to think about it too much.

“So, Dad said there was some excitement today,” Stiles comments as Derek drives them back to the house.

Derek blows out a breath. “You could say that. It was an interesting day.”

“Still set on a career as a law enforcement officer?” Stiles asks, mostly just to make conversation.

Derek nods. “Definitely, especially in Beacon Hills.”

“I will admit that having the sheriff’s department in the know has made things easier,” Stiles admits.

Derek glances over at him. “I get why you wouldn’t want to get him involved, but I have to agree.”

“I still think we need to find a way to get into Eichen House,” Stiles mutters.

“If there’s a way, your dad and Moira will find it,” Derek says soothingly. “You don’t need to worry about it.”

Stiles sighs. “I know. They’re great, and very competent, but—I just have this feeling.”

“Don’t you always have that feeling?” Derek asks.

Stiles glances over his shoulder to see Batman in the backseat. “Yeah…”

“So, maybe give them a little time to work,” Derek replies.

“Right,” Stiles replies.

Derek pulls up in front of their house, reaching over and squeezing the back of Stiles’ neck. “We’ll keep an eye out. I’m glad you pushed for that tattoo, though.”

Stiles touches his chest where his tattoo is located. “Same.”

They enter the silent house, and Stiles assumes that the rest of the pack is elsewhere. It’s becoming more common for folks to spend time at home, or over at someone else’s house, especially when no one is cooking.

Stiles thinks it’s probably a normal, healthy sign of growth that they don’t need to be together at all times.

“How’s the house coming?” Stiles asks.

Derek shrugs. “Construction is on schedule. If you wanted, we could go over there after you’re done with school tomorrow. It’s a short day for me.”

“Yeah, I’d like to see it,” Stiles admits. “I have a coven meeting after school, but before I head over we could swing by.”

“Sounds good,” Derek replies. “I’m going to get cleaned up and head to bed.”

Stiles still has some homework that he wants to finish, so he heads up to his bedroom and starts on his math problems. He’s still working when his dad gets home, poking his head into Stiles’ room.

“Hey, kiddo,” Noah says. “How are you doing?”

“Me? I’m good,” Stiles insists. “Just, maybe a little worried.”

“I got a phone call from the D.A.,” Noah replies, easing his way inside the room. “We’re still waiting on a date for the sentencing hearing, but he thinks it will be soon. He also said you can give a statement if you’d like. Are you still okay with her pleading out?”

Stiles shrugs. “I mean, if she wants to plead guilty to the crime we can definitely prove she did, there really isn’t anything I can do, is there?”

“No, there isn’t,” Noah replies, sitting down on the edge of Stiles’ bed. Batman, who had been stretched out on the bed, wriggles over so he can rest his chin on Noah’s leg. “Truth be told, it’s out of both our hands.”

“I think that’s what’s bothering me,” Stiles finally admits. “Before, I knew I’d have to testify, but it was out of sight, out of mind. Now, it really is out of my hands, and I just have to let the system work.”

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help,” his dad says. “And be sure to reach out to Jack if you need an extra session.”

His dad scratches behind Batman’s ears in just the way he likes, and Stiles smiles. “I have another lesson with Moira tomorrow after school, but Derek and I are going to swing by the new house on the way.”

His dad looks amused, but thankfully doesn’t comment on Stiles’ ongoing crush. “Full moon the night after tomorrow.”

“Moira and I are going grocery shopping after my lesson to get supplies,” Stiles replies.

Noah stands with one last pat to Batman’s head, and presses a kiss to the top of Stiles’ head. “Don’t stay up too late, okay?”

Stiles can feel the bond thrumming between them, love and warmth and everything else.

And that’s one of the reasons that Stiles isn’t too worried about the pack spending their time in other locations: he knows that they’re all just fine.

~~~~~

Derek has an early morning. He and Parrish meet up for a run before work, and then they’re at the station by 7. Mark is already there, and he gets them started on reading through the reports that came in over night.

The rhythms of the station are still slightly unfamiliar but welcome. Derek likes being busy. At this point, he’s looking forward to finishing up the third module so he can be a fully fledged deputy.

But the third module starts soon, and then he’ll have to juggle school, work, and life with the pack.

“All right, Derek, you’re with me today,” Mark announces once they get through the reports. “We’re on patrol. Parrish, you’re going to be with Maria.”

As though his words had summoned her, Maria comes through the front door of the station. “Sorry! Sorry!”

Mark frowns at her. “Maria, we talked about setting an example for the newbies.”

“I know, it’s just that Rosa absolutely refused to get dressed this morning,” Maria replies, sounding a little frantic. “Just threw herself on the floor and screamed her little head off.”

Mark laughs. “I don’t miss those days, that’s for sure.”

Derek follows Mark out of the station to his county vehicle, and he hesitantly asks, “Can I ask a question?”

“If it’s about why Maria gets away with being late every damn day, it’s because her kid is autistic,” Mark says, anticipating Derek’s question. “She’s a single parent who’s really struggling, and the sheriff has a soft spot. Also, when she is on the job, she’s great.”

Mark pauses. “But this is a fairly small department, and we were lucky to get you and Parrish, to be honest. If someone is good, we’ll probably make more allowances than most places would.”

“I don’t plan on going anywhere else,” Derek admits.

Mark looks over at him. “Look, kid, I’m talking about 20 years from now, but you could run for sheriff when Noah is ready to retire. The Hales were beloved in this town, and people will remember that.”

Derek blinks. “What?”

“I figure that’s part of Noah’s plan,” Mark says. “We haven’t talked about it, but the last three sheriffs have all basically appointed their successors, and it’s worked well so far.”

Derek hesitates. “It’s not political?”

“Maybe in some places it is, but we’ve set up a pretty good system,” Mark says. “People around here want a sheriff who’s more interested in keeping the peace than politics.”

Derek just shakes his head. “I guess I’ll think about it. It’s a really long way off.”

“It is,” Mark says. “But it’s a reminder from me to keep your nose and your record clean, because you have a future here.”

Derek takes in a deep breath. He’s heard that from Noah, of course, and even from the rest of the pack, but to have someone outside the pack tell him that…

“Thank you,” Derek finally manages to say.

“I was a punk-ass kid, too,” Mark says, with a smile to soften the words. “Between the Marines and being a cop, I figured my shit out. You’re going to do just fine.”

Derek enjoys the day spent with Mark, who has 20 years of experience in uniform as a deputy, plus another 8 years as an MP in the Marines. The sheer amount of knowledge that he has is astounding, and he passes along the information as easily as he breathes.

That day, things are fairly quiet. They catch a couple of kids tagging and confiscate the spray paint and take them home. There are a few traffic stops for speeding, following too closely, and failure to signal.

No one waves a gun around, and Mark supervises his ticket-writing to make sure he does it correctly, but then his shift ends at 3 pm. Derek heads to the house to get changed, and Stiles calls out as Derek is pulling on a red henley.

“Derek! You here?” Stiles calls.

“I’m coming down,” Derek calls back, grabbing his leather jacket from the back of his desk chair.

Stiles has dumped his pack near the dining room table, wearing his usual jeans, t-shirt, and flannel. “What time is your lesson with Moira?” Derek asks, wanting to make sure they have enough time.

“Not for another hour or so,” Stiles replies. “And I told Moira we were going to check out the new pack house. I think Erica and Cora were going to meet us if that’s cool.”

“Of course,” Derek says easily. “I feel like I don’t see Cora all that often.”

Stiles snorts. “That’s because you don’t. She spends most of her time at Erica’s house, but I think that’s because they really are BFFs, and there’s more space. But also, the pack bonds are strong, and don’t need much reinforcement.”

“I can tell,” Derek admits. “It feels easier than it did when she first got here.”

Stiles buffs his nails against his shirt. “I make strong bonds, what can I say?”

Derek gives him a look. “You are rather good at it, even if it was by accident.”

“The last time wasn’t an accident!” Stiles protests, following him out of the house with Batman on his heels. “That was all me, Derek.”

Derek isn’t going to argue with him—not when Stiles is right—so he changes the subject. “What did Scott say about the meeting with his dad?”

Stiles secures Batman in the backseat and takes the passenger seat. “I don’t know. He said it was fine, but he wouldn’t say much more than that, and usually I would have been subjected to a lot of bitching.”

“And when Scott stops talking to you, you start worrying,” Derek says.

“The last time he stopped talking to me, the pack bond had eroded,” Stiles says morosely.

“And what is the bond telling you now?” Derek asks.

Stiles frowns. “It’s still strong. He’s feeling conflicted.”

“So, pay attention to that,” Derek urges. “Scott will talk to you when he’s ready

Stiles glances over at him. “When did you get so smart?”

“About the time I got the space to actually use my head,” Derek admits. “Your dad gave me that.”

Stiles is quiet for a long moment. “Why the hell didn’t I tell him sooner?”

“You had your reasons,” Derek replies. “Hell, I wouldn’t have told him either. I’m still shocked at how cool he was about everything.”

“That’s my dad,” Stiles jokes. “Cool as a cucumber.”

Derek turns into the long drive up to the new pack house, and he sees that Erica is already there. She’s driving the used Honda SUV her parents got for her after she’d been seizure free for six months, and gotten her driver’s license.

She and Cora are sitting on the hood of her car, a shared blanket around their shoulders, sipping from to-go cups from the local coffee shop.

“Hey, Derek,” Cora says as he gets out of the Camaro. “How was work?”

“Thankfully uneventful,” Derek replies.

“Are you sure you spent the day in Beacon Hills?” Erica teases.

Derek rolls his eyes, and Erica adds, “How’s it going, Doctor Strange?”

“Just stopping by before my magic lesson,” Stiles says. He turns to look at the house, his hands on his hips, and he lets out a low whistle. “Damn. I had no idea things were this far along.”

Derek looks at the house. There are trucks parked out front, and the framing has been completed. As he watches, a construction worker walks out, grabs a couple of sheets of drywall, and carries them back inside.

He’s been getting regular updates, so he knows the plumbing and electrical work is done, and now they’re putting in drywall. Once that’s done, they’ll have to start doing things like choosing paint colors and carpet and the rest.

Derek figures it’s going to be a whole pack meeting, and he’s kind of looking forward to it.

“Yeah, it’s looking really good,” Derek says. “It will be great when it’s done.”

“How long?” Cora asks eagerly.

Derek pulls up the last email he got with the progress report on his phone. “Probably February. Could be sooner, could be later. I’ve been told delays in construction are normal.”

“I wonder if magic could make it go faster,” Stiles muses out loud.

He’s leaning against the hood of Erica’s car near Cora, who pokes him in the side. “Haven’t you seen Fantasia? And what would Moira say?”

“I just said that I wondered!” Stiles protests.

“You do magic just by thinking it,” Cora reminds him. “So, stop wondering.”

Derek can’t help but laugh at that. Cora isn’t wrong, but her imperious tone and prodding finger is such a little sister thing to do.

Stiles rolls with it, though, moving away from her finger and laughing. “I’m not going to do anything. I have enough control at this point not to do accidental magic.”

Cora gives him a look. “Good.”

Erica just shrugs. “Hey, I wouldn’t mind if it got done faster with magic.”

Cora elbows her, and Erica elbows back, and then they both crack up.

And Derek just puts an arm around Stiles and pulls him in for a hug. Stiles leans against him, and Derek knows he’s looking into the future.

~~~~~

Noah knows that Derek had a short day, and he’s taking Stiles over to the new pack house before Stiles has his lesson with Moira. All that to say, he’s not really expecting to see any of the kids prior to the full moon, unless he runs into Stiles or Derek.

And then there’s a knock on his office door, and Cindy pokes her head inside. “Scott McCall is here to see you, sir.”

It’s been fairly quiet for a change, and Noah doesn’t have anything pressing on his desk. “Send him in, Cindy.”

Scott slouches into his office and plops into one of the chairs opposite him.

Noah stays silent, waiting for Scott to begin, but Scott seems to be stuck.

“Talk to me, son,” Noah invites, using that word deliberately, to remind Scott that he’s speaking to his Alpha.

“Dad wants me to forgive and forget,” Scott finally says. “He was talking about me spending Spring Break with him, and maybe the entire summer, too. I didn’t want to tell him no, but I don’t want to stay with him.”

“Your mom has full custody,” Noah reminds him. “And you’re almost an adult, so you have some choice in the matter.”

Scott shakes his head. “It’s more than that, though. I didn’t understand what Deaton was doing until Stiles repaired the pack bond, and then I could see he was a threat. I feel like my dad is that kind of threat now.”

Noah frowns. “Like he wants to undermine the bonds you currently have?”

“Like that,” Scott admits. “And like he might not take no for an answer.”

“Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it,” Noah says. “But your mom has more of a say than he does in the eyes of the law, and what does the pack do with threats?”

Scott’s expression lightens. “We take care of them, one way or another.”

“There you go,” Noah says. “What have you got going on tonight?”

Scott shrugs. “I called in sick to work. I was hoping to hang out with Stiles, but then I remembered he had a magic lesson, so I came here instead.”

“I don’t think Stiles had dinner plans,” Noah says. “Let me text him to see if he wants to meet us at the diner with whoever else might like to go. In the meantime, why don’t you stay here? Your dad won’t have any idea where you are, and you can just do your homework, or I’ll find some filing for you.”

Scott gives him a relieved smile. “I don’t mind helping out, but I do have some homework. It’s been hard to concentrate with my dad hanging around, and I don’t want to get behind again.”

“Focus on your homework then,” Noah replies. “If you finish, and there’s still time, you can help out and I’ll slip you some money.”

“I’d help you for free,” Scott admits.

“I know that,” Noah replies. “Let one of us know if you need help. Between everyone who’s here, we might be able to assist.”

Scott grins. “Or I’ll just wait to ask Stiles.”

“Or you can do that,” Noah replies, amused.

Scott spreads out on the couch, using the small table in front of it for his books and laptop. It’s not quite the same comfort Noah would have with Stiles hanging out in his office, but he can feel the bond thrumming with contentment between them.

Noah gets an answer about fifteen minutes after he send his text. curly fries ftw! 7?

Works for me, Noah sends back. “Diner at seven, Scott.”

Scott grins. “Yeah, okay, that sounds good.”

Noah sends out a general Meet us at the diner at seven if you can make it. If not, pre-full moon slumber party at my house for anyone who wants to stop by after.

When Scott sees the text on his phone, he grins. “That sounds really good. I feel like we’ve been scattered.”

Noah realizes that what for some feels like a natural dispersion and growing apart, for Scott it had felt like abandonment, especially in the face of his dad showing up and acting like a stalker.

Noah makes a note to have mandatory pack gatherings at least twice a month, and not just on the full moon. The big meal before their time in the Preserve is great, and a good time to connect, but they need more than that.

Noah has started to figure out that part of why he and Stiles grew so far apart was that Noah hadn’t been intentional about spending time together. And while he could offer a litany of excuses, none of it really matters.

Noah is the Alpha, and he has a responsibility to the pack, and to each member of the pack individually.

The afternoon passes peacefully, with Scott doing his homework, and then helping with filing once he’s finished. At quarter of seven, Noah powers down his machine, and he drives Scott over to the diner.

Derek, Parrish, and Tara are already there and Erica and Cora turn up about five minutes after Noah arrives. “Isaac should be here soon,” Erica says cheerfully. “Boyd is stuck at work, but he said he’ll sleep over tonight.”

Stiles turns up ten minutes later, apologizing, Batman by his side in his vest. “Sorry! I got a little bit caught up in the lesson, and we lost track of time.”

“No big deal, kiddo,” Noah replies, scooting over to give Stiles room to sit in the booth where he’s sitting across from Scott and Derek. “I’m glad you could make it.”

Stiles focuses on Scott. “You doing okay, bud?”

Scott shrugs. “My dad is being really pushy.”

“We’ve got your back,” Stiles says. “And if it gets too weird, we could probably go camping in the middle of nowhere where he can’t find you,” he adds.

That causes a smile to blossom on Scott’s face. “I thought you hated camping.”

“Sacrifices can be made,” Stiles replies. “Or you can just keep hiding out at our house.”

“I might,” Scott admits. “But I’ll play along for now.”

Tara, Erica, Cora and Parrish have taken over a nearby booth, and when Isaac arrives, he grabs a chair and sits at the end with them.

They’re finishing up when Dave and Paul enter in uniform, clearly on break, to order to-go cups of coffee and check in.

“How’s it going, Stiles?” Dave asks, lingering next to their table.

“Five by five,” Stiles says. “At least for right now.”

“Where’s Moira?” Dave asks.

Stiles flushes a bit and shrugs. “She said she and Noelani were getting dinner together tonight, and she wasn’t in the mood for curly fries.”

Dave laughs, but not unkindly. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

They finish up their food, and head back to the house, minus Parrish, who says he needs to get home. Boyd arrives around nine, with a backpack and an overnight bag. The kids create a nest in the living room, and Noah notices that they’re keeping Scott in the center.

Erica, in particular, is cuddled up next to Scott, although it looks platonic. Stiles takes the other side, and they start a video game.

“Don’t stay up too late,” Noah says, although he has no intention of staying up to monitor them.

Derek is stretched out on the couch behind them, and he waves to Noah as he heads upstairs.

Of course, he’s no sooner undressed and gotten into bed when his cell phone rings. “Ah, hell,” Noah mutters, but he knows better than to ignore it. “Stilinski.”

“Sorry to bother you, sir,” Paul says. “We have a bit of a situation at the hospital. We probably wouldn’t have bothered you, but Mel is involved.”

“What kind of incident?” Noah asks, rolling out of bed and pulling on his uniform pants with the phone tucked between his shoulder and ear.

“One of the residents snapped and held a scalpel to Mel’s throat,” Paul replies, sounding grim. “She just has a small cut; another doctor was quick on their feet and injected him with a sedative from behind, but Mel is pretty shaken up.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Noah says, because it’s an easy answer.

He knows that he’s not going to be able to get out of the house without alerting the kids and Derek that he’s leaving, and he’s torn on whether to tell Scott anything.

The kids are all invested in their game, but Derek meets him in the hall. “Can I help?”

Noah shakes his head. “No, stay here and keep an eye on things. It feels like things are starting to ramp up, and I’d like there to be a responsible adult present.”

“And Batman doesn’t count?” Derek jokes.

“He almost counts,” Noah replies. “But he can’t really split his focus.”

Derek smiles. “Fair enough. Do you want me to tell Scott anything?”

“Mel is fine,” Noah says. “That’s the only thing he needs to know right now.”

Derek nods. “I’ll be sure to emphasize that fact.”

Noah pats him on the shoulder. “Thanks, Derek.”

He’s surprised to be getting out of the house without getting intercepted by anyone else, but he does get a text as he’s pulling out of the driveway.

It’s Stiles, of course. be safe

That’s all he says, but Noah appreciates the sentiment. He drives to the hospital at a normal speed, knowing that Paul has the situation well in hand.

He parks and heads inside, and he’s not terribly pleased to see McCall hovering around Mel, looking as though he’d like to intervene, or otherwise make a pest of himself.

Dave is standing nearby, looking as though he wants nothing more than to forcibly eject McCall from the premises.

Mel has a small bandage on her neck, and she looks at Noah in relief. “I told Deputy Myers not to call you.”

“I’m glad he did,” Noah says soothingly. “Hey, why don’t I bring you to the station so you can give your formal statement and get it over with, and then I’ll drive you home? You can let me know tomorrow when you want to pick up your car, and I’ll give you a ride.”

Mel takes a deep, shuddery breath. “Okay. I hate to leave them short-handed, but I’m not sure I’ll be much good tonight.”

McCall takes a step forward. “I should go with you.”

Mel visibly recoils. “Rafe, I can’t deal with you right now. You showed up to my place of work.”

Noah is suddenly very sure that McCall has a police scanner and he’s using it. “Were you here at the time of the event?” Noah asks, more politely than he’d like.

McCall shakes his head after a moment’s hesitation.

“Then I’m going to suggest you find somewhere else to be and let us do our jobs,” Noah says firmly. “I’m sure you understand that, since we’re both in law enforcement.”

McCall nods tightly and stalks out.

“Thank you,” Mel says, pressing her fingers to her eyes. “Where’s Scott? He told me that he wasn’t going into work today.”

“He came to the station,” Noah assures her. “He did his homework, helped with some filing, and then we went to the diner for dinner. Right now, he’s at my house with the rest of the kids. Derek is there to provide adult supervision.”

Mel moves a little closer to him, and Noah puts an arm around her shoulders. “And if you want me to, I can call a deputy to sit outside your house to make sure you’re not disturbed.”

Mel takes another shaky breath. “I would honestly feel better if I could see Scott tonight.”

“Come back to my place,” Noah says quietly. “We’ll find a bed. You shouldn’t be alone tonight if you don’t want to.”

Mel nods, and Noah turns to Dave and Paul. “Where’s our perp?”

“Sleeping off the sedative cuffed to a hospital bed,” Dave says readily. “We’ll stay here to keep taking statements, and once he’s awake, we’ll book him.”

“All right, thank you both, and if I don’t see you back at the station, I’ll see you tomorrow night,” Noah says.

Dave and Paul prefer to work the same shift, and they’re used to working nights. At this point, they handle full moons easily mostly because they’re used to being awake, and because they’re both steady as a rock.

Noah drives Mel back to the station to get her statement, electing to do it from his office with a recorder. If they need a videotaped statement later, they can bring her in.

Noah grabs a spare bottle of water and hands it to her. “Are you okay with this being recorded?”

Mel nods. “I know it’s necessary.”

“If at any point you’re uncomfortable, or you need to take a break, just let me know,” Noah says.

Mel nods.

Noah presses record, and says, “Sheriff Noah Stilinski here with Ms. Melissa McCall.” He recites the date and time, and then says, “In your own words, tell me what happened.”

Mel takes a deep breath. “We’ve been a little shorthanded, so the residents are all short on sleep. I think Ben had been at the hospital for close to 24 hours, although it’s been quiet enough today that he should have been able to get a nap.”

Noah nods encouragingly.

“I honestly don’t know what happened,” Mel says slowly. “We’d just had a car accident victim come in. Nothing too complicated, just a concussion and a broken arm, maybe a couple of fractured ribs.”

She takes another deep breath, then a swig of water. “We paged Ben as the resident on duty. He—he didn’t look like he was entirely with it, and I was worried about him. I asked if he was okay.”

Noah nods. “Go on.”

“He—I don’t know,” Mel says helplessly. “He lunged for the nearest surgical tray, grabbed a scalpel, and he had me in a headlock before I knew what was going on. He had it to my throat, and he was shouting something about being taken advantage of, and no one understanding his value.”

“Is that out of character?” Noah asks.

Mel shrugs. “Well, he’s certainly never held a scalpel to anyone’s throat before. It seemed to come out of nowhere.”

Noah remembers what their last victim had said, about how it came out of nowhere, and he had never threatened her before. “You said he looked out of it? Is it possible that he’d been drugged?”

“It would be the most reasonable explanation,” Mel agrees. “Nothing else makes sense.”

Noah nods. “And how did it end?”

Mel takes another breath. “One of the other residents had been responding to a psychiatric emergency. There was a syringe of Haldol prepped for that patient when she heard the commotion. She snuck up behind Ben and injected him. I got cut as he collapsed.”

Noah frowns at her.

“I just needed a bandaid, no stitches,” Mel says. “It could have been much worse.”

“I’m very glad of that,” Noah says quietly.

Mel eyes the recorder. “I want to talk to you about something, but I don’t want—“

Noah holds up a hand. “This interview is complete.” He rattles off the time, and then stops the recording. “All right. We’re off the record.”

“I should have done this sooner, but—I don’t want Scott to go to his dad if something happens to me, unless that’s what he really wants,” Mel says. “And I don’t know how to make sure that Scott ends up with you. Or if you’d even agree.”

“Of course, I’d take Scott if something were to happen,” Noah says immediately. “And I think we should probably talk to an attorney about that, and see what our options are. I’ll split the cost with you if you’d like.”

Mel’s face relaxes in relief. “Thank you. I know it’s a lot, and I hope that nothing like that happens, but—“

“It’s Beacon Hills,” Noah says. “And I feel the same way about Stiles.”

Mel reaches out and squeezes his hand. “Thank you, and yes, I’m happy to be on record as Stiles’ alternate guardian.”

It’s something Noah knew she’d do, but hadn’t asked of her. It would be a relief to have something formalized. Noah would be comfortable with Derek taking guardianship, so that’s his second option, but he doesn’t want to put either of them in an awkward position.

Noah knows that his kid has a crush on Derek, and that his interest isn’t entirely unrequited. He also knows that Derek isn’t going to do anything until Stiles is at least 18. If something happens to Noah, and Derek feels responsible for him, it’s going to be a lot longer than that.

And there’s no part of Noah that wants to deprive Stiles of whatever comfort he might need in that situation.

Noah is true to his word and drives Mel back to the house. He plans on letting her take his bed or Stiles’, depending on whether Stiles is sleeping with the rest of the pack.

They slip inside, and Mel goes to the entrance of the living room. The kids are in a pile, with Scott in the middle, in the place of most protection. Erica has an arm thrown across Scott’s chest, and Boyd is spooning behind her. Cora has her back to Boyd, pressed close.

On Scott’s other side, Isaac is curled around him, but Stiles is sitting up, cross legged, Batman’s head resting on his thigh. His kid opens his eyes, and they glow gold. “Hey, Pops, Mrs. McCall.”

Noah realizes that Derek is stretched out on the couch behind them, an arm over his eyes, sleeping deeply.

“Wards are working like a champ,” Stiles says as he approaches. “I changed my sheets earlier, so you can stay in my bed if you’d like.”

“Thank you, Stiles,” Mel replies. “How is Scott?”

“He’s surrounded by his pack,” Stiles replies. “So he’s fine for right now.”

“I don’t want to wake him up right now,” Mel says, “but…”

Stiles seems to understand exactly what she needs, and he gives her a tight hug. “We’re okay,” Stiles says. “And as time goes on, we’ll be even more okay.”

Mel hugs him back. “Thank you, Stiles.”

Noah doesn’t need much to be proud of his kid, but he’s proud as hell in that moment. Stiles has been through so much, but he’s come so far. Noah might be the Alpha, but Stiles is the heart of the pack.

“I’ll show you upstairs,” Noah says when the hug breaks off.

“How did we get so lucky in the kid department?” Mel muses as she trails Noah up the stairs.

Noah smiles. “No idea.”

But they really did luck out.

~~~~~

The morning of the full moon, Stiles wakes up early. He might not be a werewolf, but he can feel the itch through the pack bonds, and it makes him a little restless.

Stiles is the first one awake, and he gets the coffee pot started. It’s Thursday, so they have school. Stiles doesn’t have time to make breakfast for everyone, so he heads upstairs and hops in the shower.

He’d grabbed everything he needed the night before, knowing that Mrs. McCall would probably sleep a little later. Stiles pulls on clean clothing and heads back downstairs to see his dad in the kitchen.

“What do you want to do for breakfast, kiddo?” his dad asks.

Stiles shrugs. “We can hit a drive-through on the way to school, no big deal.”

“Full moon tonight,” Noah reminds him.

Stiles laughs. “Yeah, I know. Not only do I have an alert on my phone, I can feel it through the pack bonds. Moira says she has plans.”

“She usually does,” Noah replies. “Once we’re past the full moon, I want to meet the Yukimuras.”

Stiles shrugs. “Sounds good. The incident at the hospital…” He trails off. “It was like the one at the mall, wasn’t it?”

Noah nods. “Keep your head on a swivel, Stiles. There’s no telling who might wind up infected. It seems to be affecting people without any history of violence, but who may have some mild resentments.”

“Which is probably about everyone at the high school,” Stiles says. “I’ll be careful. We’ll watch each other’s backs.”

“See that you do,” Noah replies, pressing a kiss to the top of Stiles’ head.

The rest of the pack wakes shortly. Most folks who wanted a shower grabbed one the night before, and now they grab coffee or a Coke from the fridge.

They load up in the various vehicles and caravan to McDonalds, then to the school. Stiles knows why the entire school thinks they’re in a gang, but he still finds it incredibly amusing.

Scott clears his throat as they approach the school entrance. “My dad is parked in the lot.”

Stiles turns to look in that direction. “Your dad is shaping up to be a real problem, Scotty.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Scott says.

“Nothing for right now,” Stiles replies. “He’s just here, but he’s not making any threats, and he’s not being a nuisance.”

“You should talk to the office,” Isaac says. “Tell them you want to focus on school, and your dad is making that difficult.”

Scott takes a deep breath. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

Stiles can see that just the idea that Scott could take some small action that would put him more in control of the situation is making him feel better.

“I’ll go with you,” Cora offers.

“Buddy system today, guys,” Stiles announces. “It’s not just Scott’s dad. We know that there’s something going around influencing random people. If you start feeling weird, or suddenly have an urge to hurt someone, tell your buddy.”

Everyone agrees, and Erica sticks with Stiles as he heads for his locker. “I have no internalized resentments, for the record,” Erica comments. “If I have resentment, they know about it.”

“It’s one of the things I like best about you,” Stiles replies. “What about Boyd?”

Erica shrugs. “We have a good time together, but neither of us is under the illusion that we’re soulmates.” She pauses. “Not like you and Derek.”

“Stop that,” Stiles says. “Even the mention makes Derek uncomfortable.”

Erica shrugs. “I’m just saying. But I’ll refrain from mentioning it again until after you’ve graduated from college, if you and Derek are both still dancing around it.”

There’s some part Stiles that can’t even imagine reaching adulthood, that can’t quite believe he’s alive right now. The idea that he even has a shot with Derek sometime in the distant future is not a scenario that he can entertain.

They hit Erica’s locker next, and then head for home room.

During lunch, Stiles keeps an eye out for Malia, as he’s been doing since they prevented the assault from getting worse.

“Who are you looking for?” Cora asks, midway through their lunch period.

“Malia Tate,” Stiles admits. “Just in case she wants somewhere to sit.”

Cora frowns. “Come to think of it, I haven’t seen her recently. I think she was here the day after the incident, but not since.”

Stiles frowns, wondering how he might find out where she is, just to make sure she’s okay, but it’s not as if they’re friends. For all Stiles knows, her dad decided to move them to a different town.

The day passes uneventfully other than that, and no one has any after school activities. Everyone makes sure they don’t have a shift or anything else the day of the full moon if at all possible.

Moira usually makes dinner for everyone to share, and tonight is no exception. Tonight, she has a slow-braised pork butt for pulled pork sandwiches, as well as warm potato salad and coleslaw. Dave, Tara, and Paul all turn up with sides of their own as well as the buns, condiments, and pickles. Parrish and Derek bring the drinks.

Stiles remembers how terrifying the full moon had been when Scott was newly bitten, but they’re the exact opposite now. Pack members are chill, the food is good, and it feels like an extended family.

It’s a little cold outside, so they all find places to sit and eat in the house—in the kitchen, the living room, and the dining room.

Stiles winds up in the living room with Moira and the younger pack members, with his dad and deputies in the dining room. Batman lies between Cocoa and Nibs halfway between the living room and kitchen, since Stiles declared him off-duty.

Moira is sitting behind Stiles on the couch, and she squeezes his shoulder. “How are you doing?”

Stiles thinks about his answer. “I don’t know. Weirdly, now that we know how the nogitsune is manifesting, I’m less on edge.”

It’s not that his pack is completely safe, but more that Stiles understands the shape of the threat better, and he always does better with more information.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, but still keep a sharp eye out,” Moira urges him. “A vengeance spirit is not easily deterred.”

Stiles thinks back to Malia’s absence at school. “Would you know how to track someone down?”

“That would depend entirely on who we’re talking about, and why you want to find them,” Moira replies.

“Remember the were-coyote, Malia?” Stiles asks

Moira hums. “Hard to forget.”

“She wasn’t at school today,” Stiles says.

Cora chimes in. “And I don’t think I’ve seen her since that asshole grabbed her ass, and she slugged him.”

Moira frowns. “Are you concerned about her?”

Stiles shrugs. “I don’t know. I just have an itch.”

“Listen to your instincts,” Moira says. “And yes, we can do a true seeing this weekend to at least get a general location. If she’s safe, though, we should probably leave it alone.”

Stiles agrees immediately. “Absolutely. I just want to be sure she’s safe somewhere. She hasn’t had a lot of support.”

Moira nods. “We’ll see what we can do.”

“I wonder how many of us are out there,” Scott says. “Supernatural beings that is. I mean, there was a were-coyote out in the Preserve for years. Surely, there have to be more.”

“And quite a bit more varied,” Moira agrees. “It’s hard to say without doing anything that would expose them to elements that might present a threat.”

Boyd frowns. He’s been fairly quiet, but that’s not unusual. “Does that mean that someone or something else could locate them?”

“It’s always a possibility,” Moira admits. “Although, hunters tend to use the standard methods, so if a supernatural being doesn’t tip their hand by attacking someone, or doing something else that would draw attention, they’re unlikely to be discovered. Hunters don’t use magic as a general rule.”

“Why is that?” Scott asks. “Do they not like it?”

“They’re not opposed to using any tool in their arsenal, but what was one of the first things I taught you, Stiles?” Moira asks.

Stiles frowns, thinking back to those early lessons, and then he remembers what rule she might be referring to. “Any harm you do comes back to you threefold,” Stiles says.

Moira nods. “Magic users among the hunters either burn out quickly, or they use their abilities only to seek out those who have hurt others and are dangerous.” She pauses. “That’s why it’s rare to have a magic user who is also a hunter.”

“Because they either stop being a hunter, or they lose their magic,” Isaac guesses.

“Correct,” Moira replies.

Stiles frowns. “I wonder if there’s a way to set up an early warning system, just in case.”

“There might be—once we set up a sanctuary,” Moira replies. “It’s going to require a node like the Nemeton, as well as the use of the ley lines. I have no doubt that we’ll be able to accomplish it, but it’s going to take time and effort.”

That doesn’t surprise Stiles, but he’s a little disappointed. He wonders if an early warning system wouldn’t help them with threats like the nogitsune.

Maybe it’s not possible today, but for the future? Stiles is willing to work on it.

The full moon just isn’t that big of a deal with his dad as the Alpha, and with the wards keeping things calm. They go to the Preserve, to their usual clearing. The ‘wolves perform the full transformation and go running among the trees, and that leaves Moira, Stiles, and Parrish in the clearing.

“Tell me more about yourself, Jordan,” Moira says.

Parrish shrugs uncomfortably. “What’s to tell? I grew up in foster care, joined the Army as soon as I turned 18 and got my GED, then bartended while going to college.”

“Favorite food?” Stiles asks as he strokes Batman’s soft ears.

At this point, they’ve judged it safe for the dogs to come. Batman’s vest is off, but he’s crawled into Stiles lap. Cocoa is running with the ‘wolves, but Nibs is on his back next to Parrish, begging for belly rubs.

Parrish doesn’t seem to have any problem indulging him, and he says, “Honestly, I love a good cheeseburger. Or anything involving pasta.”

“Favorite soda?” Moira asks.

“I don’t really drink it,” Parrish replies. “I never developed the taste. One of my foster moms thought soda was the devil, and I keep hearing her voice in my head when I try to drink it.”

“Favorite movie?” Stiles counters.

Parrish hesitates. “Don’t judge me.”

Stiles puts his hand over his heart. “I would never.”

“The Karate Kid,” Parrish finally says. “I always wanted my own Mr. Miyagi.”

“Truth,” Stiles replies, holding out his hand for a fist bump.

Parrish smiles and obliges.

“Favorite comic book hero?” Stiles asks.

“DC or Marvel, because I have opinions,” Parrish admits.

Stiles grins. “I want to hear them.”

They spend an hour debating DC versus Marvel, and the best superheroes and supervillains, and they pass a pleasant few hours until the ‘wolves wear themselves out and are ready to sleep.

The next day is a Friday, and Stiles had planned ahead and made a slow cooker full of steel cut oats, and there are various add-ins, plus protein bars for anyone who doesn’t want oatmeal.

It turns out that everyone likes the kind of oatmeal that Stiles makes, flavored with Earl Grey teabags.

“Dude, what did you put in here?” Scott asks. “I don’t normally like oatmeal.”

“Earl Grey teabags,” Stiles says. “I read about it somewhere.”

He’s taken to looking up big batch recipes online to feed a crowd and save money, and this had been one that he’d found. Turns out, it’s a hit.

“I like this,” Isaac admits. “More than the usual kind of oatmeal.”

“Steel cut oats have a different texture when cooked,” Stiles says. “And some people say more health benefits, but I’m not sure about that, to be honest. I just like the texture better, especially when cooked in the Crockpot.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Boyd says. “But yeah, this is a lot better than my grandma’s oatmeal. Hers was mush.”

Stiles just smiles smugly as he keeps eating.

They caravan to the high school, and Lydia is waiting for them on the stairs. “Stiles, I need to talk to you, and it’s private.”

Stiles decides to give a little, and he nods at the others. “We’re good. I’ll see you all inside.”

“Buddy rule remains,” Scott says stubbornly.

“Scott can stay,” Lydia announces unexpectedly. “That’s fine.”

“I’ll see you guys inside,” Stiles says.

He and Scott move off to the side, and Lydia looks around to ensure they’re alone. “You know I’ve been working with the other banshee to learn how to use my powers.”

Stiles nods, trying not to let his impatience show.

“I screamed last night for someone in Eichen House,” Lydia says bluntly. “I don’t know who it was, just that it’s no one I know personally, but I also know Malia Tate is there. I have a bad feeling about it.”

“How do you know?” Stiles asks.

Lydia tosses her hair over her shoulder. “I might have overheard Mr. Tate withdrawing her for the rest of the school year.”

“When was this?” Scott frowns with concern.

Stiles shares his concern. A were-coyote locked in a facility like Eichen House is going to struggle with the full moon, and with adapting just in general. He doesn’t think it’s the right place for someone like Malia. Knowing that there might be remnants of the nogitsune there makes it an even worse place for her to be.

“The day after the incident in the cafeteria,” Lydia replies.

Stiles frowns. “Okay, I’m going to text my dad. If someone died at Eichen House, the department should have been notified.”

Lydia appears relieved. “I don’t have perfect control, but I got a sense of Eichen House as being a place where there has been a lot of death, and there might be more in the future.”

“You’re not wrong about that,” Stiles mutters, pulling out his cell phone and sending a quick text to his dad.

He doesn’t have to wait long for a response. Thanks. I’ll look into it.

Stiles suspects that Eichen House hadn’t notified anyone of the death yet, and if his dad can figure out a way inside, he might get some answers.

“All right, Dad’s looking into it,” Stiles says. “We’d better get to class before we’re late.”

Lydia reaches out to grip Stiles’ forearm. “I know I haven’t always been kind, Stiles, but my teacher has impressed upon me the importance of making alliances, if not friendships.”

“Eat lunch with us again today,” Stiles invites. “It’s going to take time, but I think we can get there.”

Lydia nods. “I will.”

Stiles feels better for all that. Supernatural folks need to stick together.

He feels that in his bones.

Chapter 4

Derek turns up for his shift, and he does the usual morning paperwork, reviewing what came in the night before, especially since none of the pack members were on duty.

He’s getting through the last of the reports when Noah comes out of his office, where he’d retreated first thing.

“Mark, call the medical examiner and find out if they brought in a body overnight,” Noah orders. No one is out on patrol yet, since they’re still waiting for their assignments. “Derek, I need you to call the hospital, see if there were any suspicious injuries brought in.”

Derek immediately picks up the phone as Noah starts issuing additional orders. He gets the front desk of the hospital, and Derek takes real pleasure in being able to say, “This is Deputy Hale. I’m calling to ask if there were any suspicious injuries brought in overnight.”

The nurse on duty hums. “I’m going to need your badge number, Deputy Hale. I don’t think I know you.”

One of the lessons they’d been taught was to memorize their badge numbers, so Derek rattles it off without having to look.

“No, no one brought in with anything more serious than a sprained wrist,” the nurse replies after a moment. “And he said he fell off a ladder while changing a light bulb.”

“Thanks,” Derek replies. “I appreciate it.”

He hangs up the phone and shakes his head, even as Mark is having a low conversation with the ME. “Yeah? Okay, thanks.”

When Mark hangs up the phone, he says, “There was a body brought in from Eichen House. They said death by suicide—a hanging to be precise.”

Noah frowns, and Derek is pretty sure that a normal person could probably see his rising temper from orbit. “They didn’t call the authorities?”

What he’s not asking is why they didn’t call the sheriff’s office, but it doesn’t need to be said, and he meets Parrish’s eyes across their desks.

Mark shakes his head. “Dr. Kelly seemed pretty pissed off, too, sir.”

“Derek, with me,” Noah orders. “We’re going to talk to Dr. Kelly, and then we’re going to Eichen House. Mark, you and Parrish remain on standby. I’ll radio you when we’re ready to head over. Having a kid die in state custody requires an investigation, and if they’ve been skirting the law, I’ll need back up.”

Now that Derek has been through a couple of modules, he understands the skill level that Noah brings to the job. He’s quick, decisive, and he keeps an open mind.

“Isn’t Eichen House a state-fun facility?” Derek asks.

Noah sighs as they head out to his Jeep. “It is, but oversight isn’t great. Honestly, I probably would have never found out about the death, except that Lydia Martin told Stiles that she sensed one, and Stiles texted me. I’m just glad he did that rather than trying to get himself admitted.”

Derek snorts, because Stiles probably would try something like that, although he’s a lot better than he had been.

Maybe because the actual adults in his life have proven trustworthy.

Dr. Kelly is waiting for them at the morgue, and he ushers them into the autopsy bay. “I’m sorry, Noah, I assumed they already called you.”

Noah shakes his head. “Not your fault. They should have, and that’s on them. What have you got?”

“Teenage male, sixteen years old, death by hanging,” Kelly replies succinctly. “He was in Eichen House because he was having suicidal ideation, so I probably wouldn’t have looked any deeper if Deputy Rossi hadn’t called. The fact that they didn’t call law enforcement is a red flag.”

“Agreed,” Noah replies. “What did you find that seemed anomalous?”

Kelly hesitates. “I’m not putting this in my report, at least not yet, since I don’t have solid proof. I’m just telling you.”

Noah nods.

“They didn’t bring the noose in with him,” Kelly begins. “I had assumed that was because it was taken into evidence, but I’m guessing not.”

“If they did, they didn’t tell me,” Noah says.

Kelly points to the neck, which seems to be at a slightly unnatural angle. “It was a clean break. There was no petechial hemorrhaging, meaning that he wasn’t strangled. I have never seen this in a suicide. Granted, he apparently jumped from a height, but there’s a reason that you had executioners back in the day. They knew how to tie a knot to ensure the person’s neck snapped, rather than slowly strangling them.”

He pauses. “Well, some. There are reports of drawing it out, but the fact remains.”

Noah stares at the body. The kid is about Stiles’ age, and aside from the bruising on his neck and his pallor, he could be just another high school student.

Derek knows that he’s thinking about Stiles, about all of the younger pack members, any of whom could be the kid on the slab.

He suddenly thinks that he might be sick, but he swallows back the bile.

“There’s a waste basket in the corner, Deputy Hale,” Kelly says. “You’re looking a little green around the gills.”

Derek shakes his head. “I’m good. I shouldn’t—I’m fine.”

“No one is fine when they look at a kid on an autopsy table,” Noah says kindly. “And if they are fine, they’re in the wrong line of work.”

With that tacit permission, Derek does turn away, although he doesn’t lose his breakfast.

He stares, unseeing, at the wall, and suddenly remembers the voice he’d heard at the Nemeton when Jennifer had been controlling him. He’s grateful for the tattoo, because he’s been clear-minded since then.

There’s no way to clear Beacon Hills of everyone with a score to settle, which means that the nogitsune could strike again at any time, without warning.

And could the nogitsune be behind this suicide as well? It’s probably impossible to know, and the kid had been in Eichen House.

“All right,” Noah says. “That gives me grounds for a search warrant. It’s in our jurisdiction, and we should have been called to the scene. Derek, are you good?”

Derek nods. “Yes, sir.”

“Has anyone notified next of kin?” Noah asks.

Kelly winces. “Again, I’m not sure. I would have assumed as much, but if they didn’t call you, and didn’t preserve evidence, then there’s a possibility that they haven’t yet.”

Noah sighs. “Come on, Derek. Let’s get to the bottom of this.”

They don’t go straight to Eichen House, of course. Instead, they go back to the station and Noah walks Derek through drafting a search warrant based on an unreported suspicious death.

Then they go to the courthouse, and they cool their heels until they find a judge who’s free to review the warrant and sign off on it.

Judge Wilson meets with them in her chambers, and she says, “It’s good to see you again, Noah.”

“Always a pleasure, Judge Wilson,” Noah says pleasantly. “This is one of my newest deputies, Derek Hale.”

Wilson’s gaze sharpens. “Any relation to Talia Hale?”

“She was my mother,” Derek admits.

She hums. “I knew her, and had a great deal of respect for her. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks,” Derek replies. “It’s always nice to meet someone who knew my parents.”

“Well, based on what I knew of your parents, I expect great things from you, Deputy Hale,” Wilson replies. She turns her attention to the warrant, and starts to frown. “If this is true…”

“I know,” Noah replies. “But you know Dr. Kelly’s reputation. I have no reason to doubt him.”

“How did you find out about the death?” Wilson asks as she signs it.

“There was an anonymous tip from a student at the high school,” Noah replies. “I had Derek call the hospital, and Deputy Rossi called the ME. Kelly assumed we’d already been contacted.”

Wilson shakes her head grimly. “Please get to the bottom of this, Noah. You and I both know that people have become intolerant of abuse in state-run facilities, especially when directed at children.”

“I’ll do my best,” Noah promises.

Noah checks his watch as they leave the courthouse. “It’s probably going to be a long afternoon. I’m going to make sure Mark and Parrish are free, because we’re going to need at least two more people. If you’ll to to the deli and grab us a couple of sandwiches, that would be great.”

“Yeah, of course,” Derek agrees.

Noah drops him off at the deli, which is just down the block from the station, and Derek orders a couple of turkey sandwiches on sourdough, knowing Noah’s preferences.

It takes a few minutes to walk back to the station, and Noah is on the phone, probably with Tara given the tenor of the conversation. “Great,” Noah says. “We’ll meet you there.”

Derek removes his sandwich, then hands Noah the white paper sack. “Thanks, Derek,” Noah replies. “We’ll eat on the way. Mark and Parrish are meeting us there, along with Tara.”

Noah manages the drive to Eichen House with ease, even as he takes bites of his sandwich, holding it in one hand, the other on the wheel.

Derek wolfs down his own sandwich in quick bites, and he finishes it up as they pull up in front of Eichen House. Tara is already parked out front, and Mark and Parrish pull up moments later as Noah finishes his meal.

“All right, we have a warrant to search the premises,” Noah says. “There was an apparent suicide overnight, but the facility didn’t contact us or any other law enforcement that we know of. We need to find the rope or other implement used, if possible.”

“Has anyone contacted the parents or guardian?” Tara asks.

“We need to get that information, too,” Noah replies. “I’m not sure why they thought they could cover it up since the body went to the medical examiner.”

“Makes you wonder what else they’ve covered up,” Mark mutters.

“Exactly,” Noah replies. “We’re going to dig in.”

Search warrant in hand, Noah leads the way inside Eichen House. The orderly at the front desk immediately bristles. “You can’t be here!”

“I have a search warrant,” Noah counters. “So, call whoever you need to call, but we have every right to search.”

The orderly picks up the phone, flushing a dull red in anger, and maybe fear. “Derek with me,” Noah says. “Parrish, stick with Mark. Let’s get going.”

They start on the main level, while Mark and Parrish start in the basement, and Tara heads up the stairs. A doctor with a name tag that reads “A. Healy” tries to intercept them just outside his office. “What’s the meaning of this, Sheriff Stilinski?”

“You had a death overnight, and failed to report it to the authorities,” Noah says bluntly. “You should have called us.”

“It was a suicide,” Healy says dismissively. “The young man was very troubled, and while we take every precaution we can, we’re not always successful in preventing these poor young people from self-harming.”

Noah raises his eyebrows. “You had an unattended death in a state-run facility, and the medical examiner has questions about whether it was actually a suicide. I need the implement used.”

“It’s been disposed of,” Healy says defensively.

Noah’s weathered face creases in disgust. “That was less than 12 hours ago. Where is it?”

“Our head orderly took care of the scene,” Healy replies. “You’ll have to ask him.”

“Great, get him here,” Noah counters. “Have the parents or guardians been notified?”

Healy also flushes a dull red. “We were going to do that later today.”

“Not in a huge hurry?” Noah asks sarcastically. “Never mind. Call the head orderly, and do it now.”

He follows Healy into his office as he picks up the phone, and Derek stays in the doorway. Healy pages Brunski to his office, and it takes about ten minutes before the man swaggers through the door, deliberately brushing against Derek as he does.

Derek feels the hair on the back of his neck go up. This guy is like the hunters who set out to make his life miserable just because he was a werewolf, not because he deserved it.

This guy is dangerous—not to Derek, not to the Sheriff or the pack, but definitely to anyone under his authority.

“What can I do for you, Dr. Healy?” Brunski says, oozing with smarm.

Noah fixes him with a glare. “I need you to hand over the noose used for the suicide.”

Brunski scoffs. “What? I got rid of it.”

Noah nods. “Put your hands behind your back.”

“What?” Brunski asks, sounding very surprised.

“You’re under arrest for obstruction of justice,” Noah says. “And probably a few other charges I’ll think of later.”

That breaks through Brunski’s confidence. “What? No! Dr. Healy, you said—“

“I didn’t say anything,” Healy says quickly, cutting him off. “I thought you’d contacted the authorities as required.”

“Derek, would you do the honors? We’ll sort this out at the station,” Noah says.

Derek smirks. “My pleasure.”

Brunski squawks as Derek pulls his right wrist behind his back and cuffs him even as he starts giving the Miranda warnings. “What are you doing?”

“I’m arresting you,” Derek says conversationally after he’s through his recital. “Because you failed to report an unattended death to local law enforcement, which is a violation of California law. And since you’re running a state facility, you should be aware of California law.”

He refrains from tacking on an “asshole,” because he’s a professional.

Ostensibly.

“Wait, wait,” Brunski protests. “I have the noose! And everything else.”

“Too late,” Noah says grimly. “Although your cooperation in finding it will be noted in your prosecution.”

“It’s in the basement,” Brunski says. “I didn’t have the chance to get rid of it yet.”

Derek hears his heart skip a beat, and he goes on high alert, because that sound like a serial killer who has been collecting trophies.

“Let’s go, asshole,” Noah says. “Derek, stay with Healy, and make sure you Mirandize him.”

“Yes, sir.”

Noah leaves with Brunski, and Healy says, “I care about all of my residents, whether they’re minors or adults. We’re one of the only residential facilities in the county, and if we close down, many people will be left without options.”

Derek just raises his eyebrows, then recites the warnings again before saying, “Maybe you should have thought of that before you tried to cover up a suicide.”

Healy gives him an indignant look. “These are troubled children!”

Derek just crosses his arms over his chest. He’s not about to stand there arguing with an idiot. “Sit down. If you want to make a statement, you’ll get a chance to do that at the station.”

Healy frowns. “I think I want to talk to a lawyer.”

“That’s maybe the first intelligent thing to come out of your mouth,” Derek mutters.

Derek has no problem holding his silence, even as Healy shifts uncomfortably. He thinks it’s probably half an hour before Noah returns with Brunski still in handcuffs, and an evidence bag with a noose.

“We’re taking them both in,” Noah says, sounding grim. “The others are going to keep searching. We need to draft an additional search warrant for Mr. Brunski’s residence, as well as medical records.”

Derek raises his eyebrows. “Are we transporting them together?”

“No, I called Maria,” Noah replies. “She should be here in about ten minutes, and she’ll book Healy.”

Derek wonders just what Noah had seen in the basement, because it sounds like there’s a lot more going on.

Maria does show up in about ten minutes, and she wears an uncharacteristically serious expression. “I’ve got him, Derek,” she says. “Did you read him the warnings?”

Derek nods. “He said he wanted to speak to his lawyer.”

“It will be a quiet ride back to the station, then,” Maria says. “What am I booking him for, Sheriff?”

“Obstruction of justice to start,” Noah replies. “We’ll see if we can make a case for accessory to murder after the fact.”

Healy squawks. “Wait a goddamn minute!”

Maria just grabs his arm and starts to haul him out, while Noah motions Derek to take control of Brunski. It’s already been a long day, and Derek doesn’t see it ending any time soon.

They transport Brunski to the jail, and the deputies working there take over.

Derek knew better than to ask Noah what he’d found in the basement in front of the prisoner, but once they’ve dropped him off, he asks, “What did you find?”

“Other then the noose, there were a few other items that looked like trophies,” Noah admits. “I left those in place, but I have enough to request a search warrant for Brunski’s home and Eichen House records.” He shakes his head. “I have to wonder how many other suspicious deaths have taken place there.”

“Would we have ever known if not for Lydia’s abilities?” Derek asks.

Noah shakes his head. “I’m going to say no. This is going to be a huge investigation, and we may need some outside resources.”

“Not the FBI, right?” Derek asks. “Because it’s a state-run facility?”

“That would depend on whether there were any civil rights abuses,” Noah replies. “Something like that could lead to federal charges.”

“And the noose?” Derek asks.

“Kelly was right, and I’ve seen enough suicides and attempted suicides by hanging to know that most kids don’t know how to tie a true hangman’s knot,” Noah says grimly.

Derek has a feeling that this is going to be a thing, bigger even than the nogitsune and the Nemeton. The nogitsune is turning out to be no more than an annoyance so far, but the problems in Eichen House run very deep.

Noah is the one to draft the search warrants for Brunski’s residence, plus asking for authorization to go deeper into Eichen House’s records. There’s a need to move quickly, because it’s unlikely that Brunski will be held long, and they need to search his residence before he makes bail.

Noah calls Wilson on her personal number, since it’s coming up on six o’clock, and most magistrates and judges have gone home. She invites Noah to come to her house so she can sign off on the warrants.

Wilson is wearing a black apron that says, “May the Forks Be With You” when she greets them at the door.

“My son would love that apron,” Noah says with a smile.

“I’ve heard stories about your kid, Noah,” Wilson replies. “I think I’d like him quite a bit. Does he have any interest in the law?”

“I think he’s leaning towards law enforcement at the moment, but there’s still time,” Noah replies.

Wilson reads over the warrants with a frown. “Was this something other than a suicide?”

“I don’t know,” Noah admits. “But there were other items in the basement that looked a lot like trophies. At the very least, I think there have been some abuses there, and we owe it to those folks to get to the bottom of it.”

“As a community, we certainly owe them that much,” Wilson says. “I know you have reason to distrust the BI, but I think you need to call them in, Noah. This is going to stretch your resources very thin, even if you don’t find anything.”

Derek knows that a member of the California Bureau of Investigation had been involved with the Argents, and therefore with Stiles’ kidnapping, but also, asking for an outside agency to get involved exposes the pack.

Then again, with the whole station in the know, it will be easier to keep their secrets.

“I’m going to call a contact I have,” Noah replies. “If this is as big as I suspect, we’re going to need the help.”

Wilson nods. “Good luck, Noah. I mean that.”

“I appreciate that, Judge Wilson,” Noah replies. “Thanks for letting us stop by.”

“I know you won’t abuse the privilege,” Wilson replies.

“Always a pleasure,” Noah says, shaking her hand. She shakes Derek’s hand as well, and they head back to the station.

“What’s next?” Derek asks.

Noah blows out a breath. “Well, I’m going to call Sheriff Morrison, and see if she knows someone in the BI that she trusts. You are going home, because you’re already into overtime, and I’m going to need you fresh tomorrow.”

Derek wants to argue, but he knows better. Noah is both the sheriff and his Alpha, and if he tells Derek to go home, Derek is going home. “What can I tell Stiles? Because you know he’s going to ask.”

Noah snorts. “You can tell him that Lydia’s tip paid off, and we’re investigating the facility. And you can thank him for going through the proper channels.”

They enter the station, and Derek sees that Dave and Paul are at their usual desks, but there’s a teenage girl sitting in a chair near them, wearing nondescript sweatpants and a sweatshirt.

Noah stops dead in his tracks, and Derek doesn’t blame him. The fact that Malia Tate is sitting in the sheriff’s station probably doesn’t mean anything good.

Malia looks up and meets Noah’s eyes, and Derek can tell there’s still something slightly feral in her.

“Paul,” Noah says slowly. “What’s going on?”

“Malia approached Tara at Eichen House and said she wanted to make a statement,” Paul says evenly. “We’ve been trying to reach Mr. Tate, but he’s not responding.”

Malia snorts. “He won’t. He doesn’t give a shit about me, not now.”

Derek can feel his eyebrows go up, because he can smell her honesty. It’s not just what she believes; it’s the truth.

Noah scrubs his hands over his face. “All right. Derek, get your reports written and head home. Let Stiles know that we might need to accommodate one more. We’ll call it protective custody.”

Derek thinks that’s introducing an element of chaos to the pack when they’ve just started to become really stable. That said, it’s not like they can throw a half-feral were-coyote into the system and hope for the best.

It looks like they’re getting another pack member.

~~~~~

Noah is tired with a bone-deep weariness that only comes with cases involving children. And now he has a child whose father has gone completely MIA.

He definitely needs some help, but he’s not bringing a stranger into the mix who could be in the back pocket of a hunter. Noah knows they’re still out there, and the hunters could use the opportunity to undermine or even assault the pack.

Noah retreats to his office and shuts the door, needing fifteen minutes to just breathe. Once he’s done that, he calls Sheriff Morrison on her personal cell.

“Noah, to what do I owe the honor?” she asks cheerfully.

“I have a bit of a problem on my hands,” Noah admits. “We’re investigating a situation at Eichen House—a suspicious suicide they tried to cover up. It might turn federal, and my department doesn’t have the resources.”

“You need a trusted contact within the BI,” Morrison says knowingly. “Wasn’t one of the staties involved with the Argents?”

“And Stiles’ kidnapping,” Noah confirms. “Do you know anyone?”

“I sure do,” Morrison replies. “I went to the academy with her, and her investigative specialty is government corruption.”

Noah blows out a breath. “Okay, yeah, that works.”

“She also happens to be a were-coyote,” Morrison adds, sounding knowing. “So, she’s definitely not associated with any hunter family, and she understands packs.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Shel,” Noah says. “I have another were-coyote who’s basically been abandoned by her father. We’re trying to track him down now, but it looks like she might be staying with me for a bit until we figure it out.”

“Busy time for you,” Morrison comments. “I heard the news about Kate Argent.”

“Yeah, I’m still waiting on a date for the sentencing,” Noah replies. “Stiles hasn’t decided if he’s going to make a statement yet.”

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help,” Morrison says. “Even if it’s loaning out a couple of deputies to review data. Our county sends folks to Eichen House, too. It’s one of the few residential facilities for youth around.”

“So I’ve been told,” Noah replies. “Thanks.”

“You ready for that name and phone number?” she asks.

“Shoot.”

The BI agent’s name is Angelica Rodriguez, and Noah writes that down along with a phone number. “It’s her office number, but it’s a direct line,” Morrison says. “She’s pretty good about getting back to folks, too.”

“Much appreciated,” Noah says. “We really do need to get that beer sometime soon.”

Morrison laughs. “In our plentiful free time, sure, but maybe I’ll mosey along your way if you do need the support.”

Noah gets off the phone with her and immediately calls Special Agent Rodriguez. He’s expecting to leave a message, but a pleasant female voice answers. “Rodriguez.”

“Agent Rodriguez, this is Sheriff Noah Stilinski of the Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Office,” he says. “I got your name and number from Sheriff Morrison.”

She laughs. “Shelly, yeah. She texted me while she was on the phone with you. To be honest, you called a lot quicker than I anticipated.”

“I’m under a lot of pressure at the moment,” Noah admits. “I’m sure you’ve heard about my past with the BI.”

“Yeah, I’m glad you got that asshole off the force,” Rodriguez says. “But I can understand why you’d reach out to someone you trust first. So, tell me a little bit about this situation.”

Noah quickly outlines what he’s found and what he knows, and he can hear the scratch of a pencil on paper as she takes notes.

When Noah reaches the end of the story, she hums. “Okay, I have a few contacts in the AG’s office. I’m going to reach out and let them know your report is coming. I have enough pull to get assigned to the case, and this is right up my alley.”

“So, I should go ahead and request support from the AG’s office?” Noah asks.

“That’s the proper channel,” Rodriguez says. “Once you file your request, I’ll make sure it lands on my desk. If we need to pull in the feds, we can do that, too.”

“Do you know Agent Abel Marsh?” Noah asks.

There’s a pause. “As a matter of fact, I do,” Rodriguez says. “And his unit would be my first choice in a town like Beacon Hills, especially since you’ve already had to deal with the Argents.”

Noah blows out a breath. “Then you understand.”

“Very well,” Rodriguez replies. “Watch your back, Sheriff. Enough high profile cases, and another hunter family might decide to investigate. Most of them are as territorial as—well, as law enforcement, but not all.”

“I hear you,” Noah replies. “And I appreciate the warning.”

“Take care,” Rodriguez says. “I’m sure we’ll talk soon.”

Noah hangs up the phone and focuses on his report. He knows they’ll need help sooner rather than later, and he has to get the ball rolling.

Experience has taught him how to write a report efficiently, but he also needs to be thorough. An hour later, he has something ready to send to the AG’s office first thing in the morning, and he’s ready to go home.

When he emerges from his office, Paul and Dave are still there with Malia Tate, who is devouring a burger.

Noah has almost forgotten about this situation, and he raises his eyebrows in their direction. Paul gives Dave a look, and Dave rises from his chair. “Can I get a few minutes before you head out, sir?”

“Come on back,” Noah invites.

Dave closes the door behind him and sits down across from Noah, rubbing his hands on his uniform pants.

“What’s going on, Dave?” Noah asks in the face of his silence.

“Tara called us to come in early when Malia approached,” Dave says. “She said she wanted to make a statement about Brunski. She saw him taken into custody.”

Noah nods. “What is she doing here?”

“She’s a fucking were-coyote, sir,” Dave blurts out. “She should be free to run, and she was going fucking crazy in there. Sorry for my language.”

Noah had seen the place, and he can’t imagine any of the kids in the pack being there. “You’re excused,” Noah replies. “But again, what is she doing here?”

“She was a voluntary admission,” Dave says. “She wasn’t there as part of a court order, and Paul thought she could be in danger from other staff members if she spoke out against Brunski, since we don’t know who else was involved.”

Noah can’t say that he wouldn’t have made the same call had he been there. “Okay, I understand that part. What’s the deal with her father? He seemed plenty concerned when we found her.”

“That was before he found out that she was partially responsible for her mom and sister’s deaths,” Dave says grimly. “According to Malia, he dropped her off at Eichen House, and she hasn’t heard from him since. He hasn’t responded to our calls.”

“Did someone swing past his place?” Noah asks.

Dave nods. “Yes, sir. Cindy went by, and she said the place looked deserted. Locked up tight, no lights, no vehicles.”

“What the hell,” Noah mutters.

“I know Paul says that were-coyotes don’t need a pack, but—sir, she needs a pack,” Dave says.

Noah digs the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Fuck me. Okay. Honestly, I’d probably try to send her home with the two of you or Tara, but she responded to me being the Alpha, and I’ll make room.”

Dave hesitates. “Maybe you should have Stiles do what he did for Cora and Scott. Paul doesn’t need it. He feels the pack bonds, if not for himself, then through me. But maybe she needs the stability.”

“I’ll broach the subject with Stiles and Moira,” Noah says. “I’m not sure how he’ll respond to the request, especially with someone we don’t know all that well.”

Dave shrugs. “We’re happy to host someone if your place gets too full, and Tara is, too. From what Derek has said, it’s just a few months before the house is complete. We can limp along until then, sir. We’re a pack, and we take care of each other. I think Malia needs that certainty right now.”

Noah sighs. “I’ll brings her home with me tonight, and we’ll call it protective custody.”

He can’t hide in his office all night if he’s going to get Malia to a safe place, and it’s late. She’ll probably be happy to find a bed.

Noah follows Dave out of his office, and now that she’s eaten, Malia just seems tired and sad. She’s sitting in the chair next to Paul’s desk, her gray sweatshirt pulled down over her legs, a pair of canvas slides on her feet.

She’s not a small child, but in that moment, she reminds Noah of one, so he crouches down in front of her chair. “Malia, we don’t think it’s safe for you to go back to Eichen House right now, and maybe not ever. I’d like you to come stay at my house tonight, but only if you’re willing.”

Malia looks at him with dark eyes. “I want to stay with you. You’re the Alpha.”

“All right,” Noah agrees. “We’ll keep trying to reach your dad, but if he doesn’t respond, we may be forced to either get you emancipated, or press charges against him for abandonment.”

“I don’t want to press charges,” Malia says, and Noah can hear the distress in her voice. “It’s my fault.”

Noah shakes his head. “It’s not your fault that you transformed during the full moon. It was a terrible accident.”

Malia just looks away, and Noah figures he’ll keep telling her that until she believes it.

“Let’s get out of here,” Noah says. He glances at Dave and Paul. “Call me if something pops off.”

“Yes, sir,” Paul says. “Let me know if I can be of any assistance.”

Noah leads her out to his vehicle and drives home in silence. He doesn’t try to make small talk, and Malia seems disinclined to speak. Roscoe is parked in front of the house, as is Moira’s Prius, and Erica’s SUV.

They walk inside, Noah nudging Malia ahead of him. The kids, along with Derek and Moira, are in the living room. Erica is the first to say, “Welcome to the pack.”

Cora grins. “Another girl!”

The rest of the pack echo the welcome.

“The real question is whether you want to be a member of this pack,” Noah says softly. “You can take time to think about it if you want.”

Malia shakes her head decisively. “I don’t need time.”

Noah looks at Stiles, who appears pensive and a little uncertain. “Something wrong, son?”

Stiles shakes his head. “No, but I’ve never done it like this before.”

“What have I told you about things that we do by instinct?” Moira asks.

A faint smile forms on Stiles’ face. “That what we do by instinct can be brought under conscious control.”

Malia seems a little overwhelmed, and she asks, “What—um, what are we talking about here?”

“I can form a pack bond between you and my dad, and you and the rest of the pack,” Stiles says. “That way, you don’t have to wait to see if it forms on its own, and it might give you a little more stability. But it’s up to you.”

Malia shrugs. “If you think it will help, I guess that’s fine.”

“Deep breath, Stiles,” Moira advises. “You can do this.”

Scott has been pretty quiet until now, but he clears his throat. “Would it help to focus on the bond that I have?” he asks. “You renewed it recently.”

Stiles brightens at that. “Yeah, yeah, it might.” He stands from the couch, and Scott clambers off the floor. Stiles places his hand in the center of Scott’s chest, frowning. “Okay, I think I have it.”

Stiles then turns to Malia. “Do you want to be a member of this pack, Malia?”

Malia nods. “I do.”

Stiles looks at Noah. “Do you accept Malia as a member of our pack?”

“I do,” Noah agrees.

Stiles reaches out, but pauses before he makes contact, asking for permission with his eyes. Malia nods, and Stiles touches her sternum. “Then be a part of our pack.”

Noah feels the bond bloom bright and wild. He can feel her feral nature, and the deep well of grief underneath. Erica gets up and pulls Malia into a hug. Malia is stiff at first, then she relaxes into the embrace. Cora hugs Malia from behind, and that seems to trigger a big group hug.

Noah motions to Stiles, who extricates himself from the others and follows Noah into the kitchen. “Derek told me a little bit,” Stiles says. “I guess it’s a good thing that Lydia has been honing her powers.”

“I think it’s time to have a pack meeting,” Noah says. “That includes Lydia, the Yukimuras, and the coven.”

Stiles nods. “Yeah, that makes sense. We need to figure out how to take care of the nogitsune soon. With everything going on at Eichen House, you’re going to have your hands full with the investigation.”

“Sometimes, I think you’re too smart for your own good,” Noah comments. “I have someone I trust coming in from BI. I got her name from Sheriff Morrison.”

“She’s the sheriff in Sweetwater, right?” Stiles asks.

Noah nods. “That’s right. We keep meaning to grab a beer together, but it’s never quite worked out.”

Stiles leans against the counter and drums his fingers on the cabinet. “And we have the sentencing coming up.”

“We might have a full plate,” Noah admits. “But we’ll get through it.”

Stiles laughs. “We’ve done okay so far, Pops.”

“Come here, kiddo,” Noah says. “I need a hug.”

Stiles doesn’t hesitate, hugging Noah tightly. “Malia and the rest of the kids at Eichen House are lucky to have you, Dad.”

“I appreciate you saying that,” Noah replies, holding on tightly.

There’s a family out there tonight who won’t be able to hug their child, and Noah is going to figure out why.

~~~~~

Stiles doesn’t think adding Malia to the pack is necessarily a bad idea, but it does introduce an element of chaos to an already volatile situation. He has a better sense of Malia now through the pack bond, and it’s immediately clear to him that she needs the pack badly, and needs the stability the bond can provide.

They do the same thing they’d done when Stiles had created the bond with Cora, and renewed Scott’s bond, and create a nest in the living room.

Stiles stays near the edge of the group, though. He’s feeling a little strange, as though they’ve dodged a bullet, and he doesn’t know how to explain it.

“Hey, you okay?” Scott asks in a low voice. He’s stuck close to Stiles, and he leans in close. “You seem off.”

Stiles shakes his head. “I don’t know, dude. I feel like we dodged a bullet, but something else is coming.”

“What would Moira say?” Scott asks.

Stiles grins ruefully. “Probably to trust my gut.” He pauses. “Anything from your dad?”

Scott frowns and shakes his head. “No, but he had to go back to work. He said he was going to be here next weekend, though, and he wanted to spend some time together.”

“So far, so good, right?” Stiles asks.

Scott shrugs. “Time will tell.”

“Guys, seriously, get a room if you want to talk,” Isaac says sleepily. “The rest of us want to go to sleep.”

Stiles glances at Scott, who glances significantly at the stairs.

They head up to Stiles’ room, Batman at their heels. He and Scott stretch out side-by-side. “How are you feeling about Malia?” Scott asks.

“That she needs a pack,” Stiles replies. “But that she’s a bit rough around the edges.”

“She’ll have us at school,” Scott points out. “Your dad will hire tutors for her if that’s what she needs. We’ll make sure everyone gives her room.”

“Where is she gonna stay?” Stiles asks.

Scott hums. “You could always bunk with Derek, and let her stay in your room.”

Stiles pushes Scott’s shoulder. “Come on, Scotty.”

“The crush is pretty epic,” Scott teases.

Stiles groans. “I would have preferred to keep that to myself.”

“No secrets in a pack, dude,” Scott replies.

“I think I’ve figured that out,” Stiles mutters.

Scott smiles. “Hey, man, you’re magic.”

Batman whuffs and crawls in between them, and Scott laughs. “Yeah, I’m definitely spending the night in my fur.”

And that’s how Stiles finds himself sandwiched between his service dog and a wolf. In spite of his worry, Stiles sleeps like a baby.

Thankfully, the next day is a Saturday, so they can sleep in. Stiles wakes up with just Batman in the bed, but he smells something really delicious.

Stiles rolls out of bed and pulls on a hoodie so he can take Batman outside. “You’ve been super patient, buddy,” Stiles says. “Thank you.”

Batman whuffs in response.

Stiles takes him out through the kitchen, and he’s a little surprised to see Moira there, speaking in low tones with Derek, cups of coffee in hand.

Stiles lets Batman out into the backyard, and then pops back inside. “What am I smelling?”

“That, my young spark, is a hash brown casserole,” Moira replies. “It didn’t take much to whip up, and we’ll have breakfast in about 30 minutes.”

“Have I ever told you that you’re awesome?” Stiles asks.

Moira smiles. “More than once, but keep it up, because flattery will get you everywhere.”

Stiles gives her a peck on the cheek. “You’re the best.”

“The pack has to eat, and it’s important to welcome Malia,” Moira says softly. “It’s especially necessary right now.”

Stiles nods. “I understand. She’s at a very delicate point.”

“She feels better this morning,” Derek offers. “I think sleeping surrounded by the pack last night helped, and we have the weekend to get her squared away.”

“Erica and Cora have enough clothing that will work to get her started, but we plan on taking her shopping this afternoon,” Moira adds.

Stiles nods. “Sounds good. Has anyone seen my dad?”

“He already went to the station,” Derek says. “He said he’ll try to be back for dinner.”

Stiles snorts. “I’m sure he’ll try, but a case this size? Dad is going to be tied up for a while.”

Derek winces. “I did offer to help.”

Stiles quickly shakes his head. “Oh, no, Der. This is something that requires the Sheriff with a capital S. He’s going to have to coordinate with the BI, and any other agency that gets called in, including the feds. The investigation is going to take months, if not years.”

Derek raises his eyebrows. “How on earth do you know all of this?”

“Osmosis,” Stiles replies. “I mean, just look at the Argent case. That would have dragged on for at least a couple of years if Kate hadn’t agreed to plead guilty. We might get her on the murders before she’s released, but we’ll see.”

Also, Stiles might have gone on a few research binges about average length of a court case and an investigation. Maybe more than a few.

Moira chuckles and shakes her head, even as Batman starts to whine at the back door. Stiles lets him inside, and Batman noses at his hand, as though to remind him that he needs to be fed.

Stiles feeds Batman his usual mix of wet food and kibble, and Batman starts wolfing it down.

“You want to help me prep the fruit salad?” Moira asks.

Stiles nods. “Of course.” Hands washed, Stiles begins to cut up the citrus—oranges mostly, along with a grapefruit and some berries with a touch of honey and mint.

He likes the way Moira makes food that everyone can get on board with, but with a bit of a twist, subtly expanding their horizons.

Stiles is finishing up when his phone chimes with a text, and Stiles checks the screen. “It’s Lydia. She wants to know what we’re doing this morning and to talk about what happened at Eichen House.”

Derek is texting even as Stiles is speaking. “I’m checking with your dad. If he gives the okay—“ He stops and looks at Moira.

“There’s enough for her to join us,” Moira assures him.

Derek gets a reply right away, and he says, “Your dad says to invite her. He’s going to stop by for breakfast to meet her before his phone call with the AG.”

come here for breakfast Stiles texts back. we hv food

15 min is Lydia’s response.

Everyone in the living room is beginning to stir, and between the two of them, Erica and Cora had apparently brought a bunch of clothes from their own closets, finding a few pairs of pants that would fit Malia, as well as some t-shirts and hoodies.

They’re up and around waiting for the casseroles to be done by the time the doorbell rings. Stiles has warned everyone that Lydia would be coming by, and they all have their preferred beverages—coffee, tea, or soda.

Stiles meets Lydia at the front door, knowing that he looks like a bit of a slob, since he hasn’t bothered to change out of his track pants, t-shirt, and hoodie. He’s wearing the wolf-paw slippers Scott gave him for Christmas last year, too.

But Lydia is far from her usual impeccable self in leggings, an oversized sweater, and tennis shoes, her hair on the top of her head in a messy bun.

Stiles blinks. “Hi.”

“It’s Saturday morning, Stiles, and I’ve been—I’ve been sensing things all night and couldn’t sleep,” Lydia says pertly. “I need coffee.” She pauses. “If you have it. Please.”

“Come on in,” Stiles replies, stepping aside. “There’s a breakfast casserole, fruit salad, and coffee.”

Lydia hesitates. “It all smells delicious.”

“I don’t know about banshees, but werewolves don’t really have to worry about calorie count, and if you were awake most of the night, so you could use the sustenance,” Stiles points out, leading her back to the kitchen. “You remember Moira.”

“I have to thank you for the teacher you recommended,” Lydia says very politely, aimed at Moira. “She’s been great, and I’ve been learning a lot about previously unknown parts of my heritage.”

Moira smiles. “I thought it might be a good match. I’m glad to know that it is.”

“And I think you know Derek,” Stiles adds.

“In passing,” Lydia admits. “I hear you’re in uniform now, Deputy Hale.”

Derek tilts his head. “I am.”

“Congratulations,” Lydia replies.

The rest of the pack had been upstairs when Lydia arrived, taking turns in the shower as needed, and getting into clean clothing. Stiles knows that everyone other than Cora and Malia have work that day, and Stiles figures he’ll help do whatever shopping Malia needs.

But when the girls enter the kitchen, they stop at the sight of Lydia.

Lydia is clutching her coffee mug, and she offers a tentative smile. “I’d like to be friends. I can help with shopping, if that’s something you want?”

Erica stares at her with narrowed eyes, while Cora and Malia look to her. It’s clear to Stiles at least that Erica has taken the lead role for the women of the pack, at least among the kids.

As such, it means that Erica will determine whether Lydia is allowed a foothold in the pack, at least where it counts.

“I can’t go shopping today, and I know Malia needs some things,” Erica says, putting her arm around Malia’s shoulders.

Lydia smiles. “Well, I can help with that. We’ll figure out Malia’s personal style. It’s just a matter of trial and error.”

Lydia actually sounds sincere, and Stiles waits to see how Erica responds, because Erica has a solid bullshit meter.

“Good,” Erica finally says. “They have no sense of style.”

“Hey!” Cora protests. “I just prefer jeans and t-shirts.”

Lydia gives her a critical look. “Well, that’s fine, but there are things we could do to refine it a bit.”

“I don’t have anything else today,” Cora admits. “It might be nice to have another set of eyes, although Moira’s probably more fashionable than all of us put together.”

All eyes turn to Moira, who’s wearing black skinny jeans, a purple tunic, and purple Chucks. She probably shouldn’t have been able to pull it off, but she always does.

“What do I know about what teenage girls wear these days?” Moira asks lightly. “I think that Lydia would be a welcome addition, and her mentor has spoken highly of her. I think the Sheriff should be here soon, and the casseroles are almost ready, so let’s get the plates and things out.”

To Stiles’ surprise, Lydia willingly helps put out plates and cutlery, and they’re just beginning to dish up when his dad comes in. “Hey, all,” Noah says. He pauses to give Erica and Cora quick hugs, claps Isaac and Boyd’s shoulders, touches Scott’s cheek, drops a kiss on the top of Stiles head, and pats Derek on the back.

When his dad gets to Lydia, he says. “It’s good to see you again, Ms. Martin.”

“Lydia, please, Sheriff,” she replies politely.

“I’m Noah,” he counters. “I’m glad you could join us, but forgive me if I’m in and out. Derek, I’m going to need your help this afternoon collating data.”

Derek definitely brightens up at that. “I’m happy to help.”

“Great,” Noah replies. “Stiles, I hate to put this on you, but—“

“Meeting assistance is a go,” Stiles says, anticipating his dad’s request. “And I’ll just assume that you’ll work around it.”

Noah nods. “That’s probably for the best, yes. Thank you.”

“No problem,” Stiles says easily.

The hash brown casseroles come out of the oven, one spiked with bacon, the other with sausage, but both are creamy and cheesy with crisp, browned bits on the sides and top. With the fruit salad offering both sharp and fresh flavors with the citrus and mint, it’s basically a perfect meal.

Stiles notices that even Lydia goes back for seconds on the casserole, although her portions are petite.

“All right,” Noah says as they finish up the meal. “Stiles, please set up the meeting. Tomorrow would be my preference. Derek, you’re with me at the station this afternoon. What does everyone else have going on?”

Boyd shrugs. “I have a shift at the rink, 3 to 10. I’ll work on homework until then.”

“There’s a burial this afternoon, and then I have a shift, too,” Isaac says.

“We’re taking Malia shopping,” Cora announces. “Lydia said she’d help.”

Noah nods. “Good.” He glances at Moira. “Let me know—“

Moira holds up a hand. “Let’s not keep score, Noah. We’re pack.”

Stiles hides a smile behind his hand. He’s pretty sure that only Moira could shut his dad down like that, with a sweet smile and a firm tone.

And really, the pack works well together. Stiles knows that Derek contributes out of the Hale pack trust, and he’s pretty sure that Mrs. McCall pitches in for food, since Scott eats at their place so often.

The one time Stiles had tried to broach the subject of money with his dad, he’d received a very firm, “You don’t need to worry about that. I have things covered.”

Moira had basically said the same thing, and when he’d asked Derek, he got, “Stiles, this is my pack, and the Hale trust is at its disposal.”

So, Stiles has decided to let the adults handle it.

He’s getting good at that.

~~~~~

Derek pulls Moira aside before he heads to the station with Noah. “If you need anything—“

Moira rolls her eyes. “Derek, I can take care of one shopping trip. I could take care of a hundred. My consulting fees are—quite high, and there are plenty of people willing to pay them. In a pack, we provide for each other.”

Derek can’t help but hug her at that. Moira’s words echo what his mom had said over and over. That it didn’t matter how a person contributed to the pack, only that each person did.

“Go, be awesome,” Moira murmurs. “Let me take care of our newest pack member.”

Derek presses his forehead against hers. “Thank you. Our pack is richer with you in it.”

“Both literally and figuratively,” Moira jokes. She cups his cheek. “You are where you need to be. Trust in that, Derek.”

“I do,” Derek replies. “Thanks.”

He kind of wishes he could be a fly on the wall during the shopping trip. Malia presents a unique challenge.

“Keep an eye on Noah,” Moira says. “I have a feeling.”

Derek frowns. “Stiles had a feeling, too.”

“Then there’s probably something coming,” Moira says. “Nothing that the sight will reveal, though, which means something.”

“What does it mean?” Derek asks.

“That fate will not be easily thwarted,” Moira says.

Derek begins to have an understanding of why Stiles had confidently predicted that the investigation would take months, if not years, when he gets back to the station. There are already six bankers’ boxes worth of documents at the station, and all of the documents need to be reviewed and sorted.

“Tara will get you started, Derek,” Noah says. “I need to call the DA’s office.”

Derek nods, and looks to Tara. “For some damn reason, Eichen House is still using paper files, and if they have them in electronic form, we haven’t found them yet, although the search is ongoing,” she says.

“What are we looking for?” Derek asks.

Tara takes a deep breath. “Anything that has to do with patient deaths or injuries. We’re concerned that patients have been abused, and that deaths have been covered up. We’ll put those into a spreadsheet to start collecting the data.”

It’s not glamorous work, but Derek had been prepared for that. His instructors had all emphasized the fact that it wasn’t all chasing bad guys or exciting shootouts. A lot of it was reviewing evidence and other documents and looking for minutiae.

Apparently, Tara has some programming skills, so she has a spreadsheet prepared that will translate into a SQL database that can be searched easily.

Tara emphasizes the importance of putting the data in correctly, but then allows him to get to it.

Derek starts going through patient files, noting name, date of birth, discharge date—if any—and any documented injuries while in custody.

There are a few other categories of information, and Derek does his best to move through the files quickly while capturing the right information.

He moves into a head space where he’s just focused on the work in front of him, and isn’t paying attention to anything else. At least until a paper sack drops onto the desk in front of him. “I know you’re focused, but take some time to eat.”

Derek looks up at Noah, surprised. “Did you talk to the DA?”

“Yeah, the sentencing hearing has been moved up to Monday,” Noah replies. “So, day after tomorrow.”

Derek hesitates, then asks, “What are we looking at?”

“Kate pleads guilty and sits in prison while the various agencies build their murder cases,” Noah says. “That’s the bottom line.”

Derek frowns. “You don’t think it has something to do with the hunting families, do you?”

“How do you mean?” Noah asks.

“The Argents are matriarchal,” Derek points out. “With Gerard dead, Kate would be the head of the family, but both she and Allison are in legal limbo until the case is settled.”

“So, Kate pleads guilty to leave Allison free to lead?” Noah asks.

“It’s a thought,” Derek admits.

“We’ll likely see the Argents at the sentencing,” Noah replies. “Maybe we’ll get some answers then.”

Derek goes back to work on the files as he eats his sandwich with one hand, and he finds it somewhat suspicious that a medical facility would still be working solely off paper files. From what he understands, it’s easier to track patients and their medications electronically.

He gets through one of the boxes before Noah sends him home for the day. “I can only afford so much overtime,” Noah says. “And the work will still be here on Monday.”

Derek decides that he could really stand to go for a run to work off some energy, and he wants to check on the progress for the new pack house. No one is home when he gets there, so he quickly changes into a pair of joggers, a t-shirt, and a hoodie.

For a human, the run out to the Preserve would have been a long one, but for a ‘wolf, it’s a pleasant afternoon jog.

There’s no one working today, but the walls are up, and the siding is nearly complete. The roof has been shingled, and the front door has been hung, although there’s no door knob.

Derek climbs up the stairs to the wrap-around porch slowly, then pushes the door open. The basic floors are in, but they haven’t started with the flooring yet, although Derek has made the selections. The drywall has all been hung and mudded, and the trim is almost finished.

As quickly as things are moving, Derek thinks they’ll be able to move in as planned, maybe even slightly before. He can almost see how it will look once the house is decorated.

“Is someone here?” a voice calls from the doorway. Derek turns to see the general contractor, Luis Garza, standing there. “Oh, Mr. Hale. Stopping by to see the progress?”

“Is that okay?” Derek asks.

“Of course,” Garza replies quickly. “I was just going to do a walk through. If you want me to give you the tour, I can.”

“That would be great,” Derek replies.

“Electric and plumbing are done in the basement and main floor,” Garza says, beginning to show Derek around. “We should have that and the trim work completely finished through the house by the end of the week, and then painting will start.”

“How long do you think that will take?” Derek asks.

“A couple of weeks,” Garza replies. “I got your paint and flooring selections, and the counters and cupboards have been ordered and will be delivered on time. We’re on track for an on-time completion date.”

“I really appreciate all the hard work you’ve done,” Derek says sincerely. He’d been warned how difficult a new build could be, but he’s been happy with the progress, and the lack of headaches.

Granted, Derek had hired a designer to select a lot of the fixtures for the house just to ensure that everything moved smoothly, and orders were made on time, and that helped.

They go through the rest of the house, and Derek can see where everyone might stay. There are five dedicated bedrooms, but there’s also a large loft in place of an attic that could be used as a large dorm, maybe for the girls if they want to stay there. There are also multiple bathrooms, which will make things easier, and a large rec room in the basement.

Overall, the house will allow most of the underage pack members to live here if they choose, with room for more, and ample space for large pack gatherings.

“It’s looking great, Mr. Garza,” Derek says as they finish the tour.

“I told you, call me Luis,” he replies. “And this house is really gonna be something when it’s done.”

Derek smiles. “That’s the goal.”

He circles the house, and looks at where the back patio is going to be. There are plans for a large grill, built-in heat lamps, and an outdoor seating area.

Derek begins the run home, and he’s just broken a sweat when he approaches to see a nondescript sedan parked out front. He doesn’t recognize it, nor does he recognize the tall man in a suit standing next to the car.

“Can I help you?” Derek asks cautiously.

“I’m looking for Scott McCall,” the man replies, and the tone is pleasant enough, but there’s something about him that puts Derek’s back up. He now recognizes the man as Scott’s dad, and he’d overheard Scott and Stiles talking. Rafe McCall hadn’t been scheduled to be here this weekend.

Derek hesitates. “He isn’t here. I think he might have had a shift today.”

He knows Mr. McCall isn’t supposed to be here. Derek also knows that McCall has been pushing Scott’s boundaries.

“I might go check there then,” McCall says pleasantly. “Thanks.”

Derek knows that if Scott is at work, he’s not going to be pleased with the interruption. Thinking quickly, Derek checks the pack calendar, and sees that Scott’s shift is ending soon.

He texts Scott a heads up and hopes Scott can get out of there without running into his dad. And that it doesn’t cause him any trouble.

Scott’s response is omg whyyyyyyy

Derek can’t do much for him, so he goes upstairs to take a shower and change into jeans and a henley. He checks to see who had indicated they’d be around, and sees that it’s going to be a smaller crowd.

The lacrosse players all had practice and then were going out for dinner. Erica and Cora are having dinner with Erica’s parents, and they’re dragging Malia along with them. Stiles has a judo class, but has indicated that he and Moira will be there.

Derek checks the fridge and sees the chicken thighs in the marinade, and the veggies that have already been cut up. The post-it note on the fridge reads: Sheet pan ftw, everything on a pan, 400F for 30 min. Dinner is at 6:30.

“Well, that makes it easy,” Derek says. He decides to take advantage of the quiet house to start studying for the next module, which will start after the winter break.

Derek has plenty of time, but he also doesn’t know how crazy work is going to get, so he wants to get a leg up on the academics. He’s confident that he’ll be able to perform in the more practical elements, especially since he’ll have been working at the sheriff’s office for a few months.

Around six, Derek throws the chicken thighs, cubed sweet potatoes, and green beans on the large baking sheet, and shoves it into the oven.

“Piece of cake,” Derek says.

He’s actually enjoying the empty house, although he’s a little concerned when it’s coming up on 6:30 and no one is home.

But at 6:29, Stiles and Moira come through the front door. “Hey, Der, can I get five minutes to shower?”

“The meal can wait that long,” Derek assures him.

Stiles thunders up the stairs with Batman on his heels, and Moira peeks into the oven. “We can probably let that go another ten minutes,” she predicts. “Chicken thighs are more forgiving.”

“Quiet house tonight,” Derek comments. “Your doing?”

“I encouraged Erica to bring Malia along with them for their standing weekly dinner,” Moira admits. “She needs to learn how to get along with normal people, and Erica and Cora will have her back.”

Derek nods. “How did the shopping trip go?”

“We got enough clothing to hold her over for a bit, and she’s fine sharing with the girls and even Stiles,” Moira replies. “In fact, I think exchanging clothing will help in the long run, because she’ll have the scents of the pack on her.”

“So, don’t be surprised when she steals one of my shirts?” Derek asks, amused.

Moira shrugs. “Something like that.”

Derek laughs. “You know what, I won’t even be mad. How feral is she?”

“She’s as feral as any child who’s spent eight years in the woods without civilizing influences,” Moira replies. “But she also has the hormones of a sixteen-year-old.”

“So, we should be very afraid,” Derek mutters.

Moira gives him a look. “I think with the influence of you, Noah, and Stiles, she’ll get there, but it’s probably a good time to talk about boundaries, since she’s likely to push them.”

“What kind of boundaries?” Stiles asks as he comes down the stairs. Batman is out of his vest, and he takes a detour to let him out into the backyard.

“I think the food is ready to come out,” Moira comments.

Derek pulls the sheet pan out of the oven and does a quick temperature check on the chicken.

For once, they’re going to have leftovers, with just the three of them there for dinner. Unless, of course, Noah or the deputies show up.

Stiles’ phone chimes with an incoming text message, and he pulls his phone out of the pocket of his joggers. “Uh, oh. Scott is apparently hiding from his dad.”

Derek grimaces. “Yeah, I sent him a heads up. McCall was outside the house when I came back from my run.”

Moira frowns. “Was he supposed to be in town this weekend?”

Stiles shakes his head. “No, they arranged for next weekend.”

“Did you get any sense from him, Derek?” Moira asks.

Derek shakes his head. “I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I didn’t get a good feeling, that’s for sure.”

Moira looks at Stiles. “Is the meeting with the Yukimuras set for tomorrow?”

“Yes, it is,” Stiles replies. “They’re coming over around 2 pm.”

Moira nods. “All right. We’ll ask Mrs. Yukimura to check on Rafe McCall. So far, the nogitsune has only briefly infected people. The ‘wolves are likely safe enough, but Mr. McCall is susceptible.”

Stiles frowns. “So, we think Mr. McCall might be possessed?”

“At least temporarily,” Moira replies. “I think we have to be careful.”

“What should I tell Scott?” Stiles asks.

“Tell him to go about his business as usual,” Moira instructs. “His father is intruding and crossing clearly set boundaries. Scott should avoid him as much as possible.”

Stiles types rapidly to pass along the message and Derek hopes things don’t go to hell before they have a chance to put the lid on it.

Once they’re sitting down at the table with their meals, Moira picks up the abandoned thread of conversation. “What I meant by Malia pushing boundaries is that she’s likely to proposition one or more members of the pack.”

Derek feels a rising disgust. “I would never touch her.”

“I know you wouldn’t, Derek,” Moira says gently, then turns her gaze to Stiles.

Stiles grimaces. “Okay, I see what you’re saying, I do. She might be sixteen chronologically, but mentally she’s eight years younger.”

“Precisely,” Moira replies. “So, if she comes onto you?”

“I will be very disinterested in the nicest possible way,” Stiles promises. “Because when you put it like that…”

“It’s kinda gross,” Derek says.

“That would be the word,” Stiles agrees. “But I might not have put those pieces together in the heat of the moment, so I appreciate the warning.”

“I do remember what it was like to be sixteen and DTF at all times,” Moira says with a twinkle in her eyes.

Stiles groans and puts his head in his hands. “Moira!”

“What? I’m up on today’s lingo,” she teases. “But I’m glad you’re taking this seriously, Stiles.”

Stiles shakes his head. “I don’t want to take advantage of anyone, and that’s what I would have been doing.” Stiles looks sick at the thought.

“Hey, you didn’t do anything,” Derek says insistently. “Nothing has happened, and now you have a different perspective, and you’re going to do the right thing if it ever comes up.”

Stiles shakes his head. “No, I know, but I should have thought of that. I should have anticipated it.”

Derek can tell that Stiles is starting to spiral, and he supposes it makes sense. Stiles had been an involuntary witness to his tryst—if you could call it that—with Jennifer Blake.

Moira reaches over and cups Stiles’ cheek. “Mo chroi. Take a deep breath. This isn’t about Malia. This is about feeling like the other shoe is going to drop, and that you might be the one to drop it. I don’t want you to think that Malia doesn’t have agency, or that she can’t make her own choices.”

“But we’re pack,” Stiles says. “And that means we have to be careful with each other.”

“Exactly,” Moira says. “But don’t beat yourself up over something that hasn’t even happened.” She pats his cheek. “So egotistical, thinking that Malia would proposition you.”

That makes Stiles laugh, and Derek is glad to see it.

They have enough on their plates without getting upset over something that hasn’t happened.

 

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