Reading Time: 81 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 5

Noah files his request for assistance with the AG’s office Saturday morning, knowing that it will probably be Monday before he gets a response. He sends Derek home, but asks Parrish to come in on Sunday to keep going through the data.

He can’t afford a ton of overtime, but he can afford some.

Noah also gets word that Rafe McCall is in town again and making a nuisance of himself, and that the Yukimuras are willing to meet them Sunday afternoon.

There are a lot of irons in the fire, and Noah has to somehow keep track of all of them.

But that’s why he’s the Sheriff. He supposes that’s why he’s the Alpha, too.

He makes sure that everyone at the station is ticking along, with Parrish and Mark reviewing the data they collected from Eichen House.

Noah plans to roll up his own sleeves and start collating data, but after the meeting with the Yukimuras. “Head home at 5,” Noah says. “Whether I’m back or not. This is going to be a marathon, not a sprint.”

“You got it, Sheriff,” Mark promises. “My wife is making pasta for dinner tonight, so I might drag Parrish home with me.”

Parrish perks up at that. “I love pasta.”

“Good,” Mark says. “It’s good to make connections.”

Parrish is in good hands, and Noah heads home, pulling up just as a gray Honda Accord does. The couple that gets out of the car looks to be around Noah’s age, although he knows better, based on what Moira said. A young woman he’s seen before also climbs out of the car, and Noah blinks rapidly, thinking that maybe his eyes are playing tricks on him.

But no, the girl now has an aura that Noah can see, and there’s a golden shadow of a fox. It’s not just the scent of ozone marking her as something other than human.

The woman looks surprised when she sees Noah, and then her expression turns rueful and knowing. Noah inclines his head. “Mrs. Yukimura, I presume.”

“You would be correct,” she replies. “But please, call me Noshiko. This is my husband, Ken, and our daughter, Kira.”

Ken has a firm handshake. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Sheriff. Stiles speaks highly of you.”

“That’s nice to know, but call me Noah,” he replies. “Come on inside. Kira, Scott has had nothing but nice things to say about you.”

Kira smiles, dimples flashing. “He and Stiles have been very welcoming, sir. I’ve really appreciated that.”

“That’s good to know,” Noah replies. “Come on in.”

Noah has kept the meeting smaller than he could have—just Derek, Moira, Stiles, and Scott. Noah can’t even say why he made sure Scott would be there, other than the fact that he feels the need to keep Scott close.

He hadn’t invited Kira, but Noah assumes that her presence means they’re laying all their cards on the table.

Noshiko looks at Moira as they enter the living room. “You didn’t say you were with a pack.”

“I’m the interim emissary until Stiles has been trained, and is ready to take over,” Moira says equably. “And if you know anything about what has happened in Beacon Hills, then you know that we have a reason to keep it quiet.”

“Mom?” Kira says. “What’s going on?”

Noshiko glances at her. “I need you to stay calm, Kira. I told you I would provide an explanation.”

Kira just appears bewildered.

Noah flashes his eyes. “I’m a werewolf. I’m the Alpha werewolf of this pack, specifically, and Scott is a member of my pack.”

Kira shakes her head. “No, that’s not—is that what I am?”

“No, sweetheart,” Noshiko says. “You’re a kitsune, a fox spirit. I thought it would take longer for those traits to manifest, but I think being here has accelerated your development.”

Kira looks at her dad with slightly wild eyes. “Not me,” he says. “I just happened to fall in love with a kitsune.”

Kira holds out a hand, and electricity sparks from her fingertips. “When were you going to tell me?”

Noshiko grimaces. “When the time was right.”

Kira’s expression can only be called betrayed, and Noah can understand why. Apparently, there’s a lot going on within the family, and a lot of secrets coming to light. He’s had his own experience with that, and he believes that honesty is the best policy, but he’s not going to say as much.

Ken holds out a placating hand. “We’re sorry, Kira, but with the nogitsune active, we wanted to keep you out of things as much as possible. That’s no longer feasible, and… Well, you deserved to know the truth.”

Kira is clearly only slightly mollified with that explanation.

“Hey, why don’t we grab drinks for everyone,” Stiles suggests out of the blue. “Mr. and Mrs. Yukimura, would you like anything?”

His kid is awesome, defusing the tension with a smile and impeccable manners.

“If you have any tea, I would take that,” Noshiko replies, and Ken echoes her.

“Green okay?” Stiles asks. He gets confirmation, then herds Scott and Kira to the kitchen.

Noshiko shakes her head. “I do not envy you, Noah. At least I know what it’s like to be kitsune.”

Noah shrugs. “My wife was fairly magical, at least I thought so. Stiles takes after her mostly, and I had some good years with her.”

He glances at Moira, who quickly takes over. “We’ve had at least two incidents that we believe were caused by influence from the nogitsune, and another person we think might currently be influenced.”

Noshiko frowns. “I have a way to see whether the person is still themselves, but it’s costly. How certain are you?”

“My dad has been acting out of character,” Scott says bluntly as he comes back in the room. He’s carrying a tray with four steaming mugs, and Noah accepts the mug of coffee. Noah can only assume that Moira and Stiles had planned ahead. “Really out of character. Or maybe he’s changed that much since he left my mom, but he’s an FBI agent who’s risking getting arrested.”

Noshiko raises her eyebrows, but she nods slowly. “All right. I can break a tail to see if he’s still himself.”

“What does it mean to break a tail?” Stiles asks. He and Kira have brought three cans of Coke, and Stiles hands one to Scott as they take their seats at the table. He then hands Derek a bottle of water.

Derek smiles. “Thanks.”

Derek has been pretty quiet, but Noah can tell that he’s taking it all in, taking the measure of the Yukimuras, and making his own judgments.

Noshiko hesitates. “Every kitsune has a certain number of tails. The older we are, the more tails we collect. If I break one, I can call on the ohni, who will determine whether someone is still themselves.”

“What happens if you run out of tails?” Stiles asks.

Noshiko gives him a sharp look. “Do you always ask so many questions?”

“Always,” Moira says at the same time Noah does.

They all laugh, even Stiles, although he shrugs unrepentantly. “I won’t bug you if you tell me that it’s none of my business.”

Noshiko gives him a sharp look. “Time rules us all, Stiles, and that is all I will say.”

Stiles smiles. “Well, I had to ask.”

“My tails are in a safe place, but I can deploy the ohni tonight,” Noshiko finally says.

Scott grimaces. “I don’t know where my dad is.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Noshiko replies. “The ohni will find him, and they’ll search for anyone else who might be particularly susceptible to the nogitsune’s influence. Not that it will be anyone in the pack or the station, I don’t think. The coven’s wards are too strong.”

Noah glances at Stiles, and sees that he just looks quietly pleased with himself, and Moira smiles proudly. “Stiles is already a force of nature, but with the proper training, that will be even truer.”

“I can see that,” Noshiko replies. “I should go.”

“Mom, can I stay?” Kira asks. “I brought my homework, and we’ll study.”

Noshiko hesitates, but Ken smiles. “Of course, Kira. I think you’ll be safer here than just about anywhere else.”

Noshiko finally nods, a little reluctantly. Noah suspects that she would prefer Kira to remain apart, separate from others who might inherit a special power. Noah gets the sense that they had come solely for the nogitsune, probably because Noshiko feels a sense of responsibility, but they hadn’t wanted anything to do with the Nemeton.

At least, Noshiko hadn’t, but Noah can already see the signs of fascination on Kira’s face, and Ken seems the sort to indulge his daughter, and maybe even to push her to get out of her shell.

Noah can sympathize with both of them.

Noshiko isn’t quite ready to give in. “I think Sheriff Stilinski might have something to say about it. I taught you better than to invite yourself somewhere, Kira.”

Kira looks abashed by that, and Scott is clearly torn between staying out of it and defending her honor.

Stiles defuses the situation by saying, “All of my friends basically have a standing invitation to spend as much time here as they like, unless Dad says otherwise, Mrs. Yukimura,” Stiles says. “And if they’re pack or they know about pack, that means they’re doubly welcome.”

Noshiko looks at Noah, seeking confirmation, and Noah smiles. “It’s been a pleasure, to be honest. I like having the kids around, and if they’re at my house, they’re not getting into trouble.”

Noshiko laughs at that. “All right, Noah, I will grant that. I assume they’ll be chaperoned?”

“Derek is off today, and I’m planning to work on paperwork, but I can’t make promises that I won’t be called in.”

Noshiko gives Derek a dubious look, but finally sighs. “I suppose it’s fine.”

“We’re making tacos tonight,” Stiles announces. “Kira is welcome to stay for dinner.”

Noshiko shakes her head, but there’s a smile playing around her mouth. “I think you would have made a good fox, Stiles.”

“Instead, I’m just magic,” Stiles replies cheerfully. “And that’s enough for me.”

Noah thinks his kid is a little more than “just” anything, but he doesn’t say anything.

He shows Noshiko and Ken to the door, and says, “I’m sorry if Stiles overstepped, but he’s right. I really don’t mind having him and his friends around, and if Kira would like to be part of that number, I don’t mind that either.”

Noshiko looks a little discomfited. “Wolves and foxes do not mix well.”

Noah snorts. “I was bitten, not born, and I don’t particularly care about what a person is so much as what they do.”

Ken reaches out a hand, and Noah shakes it. “It’s refreshing to find a man with your open mind.”

Noshiko inclines her head. “Refreshing because it’s so rare.”

He can tell that she still has her doubts, but Noah knows that trust is built over time, and often hardship. “Please let me know what you find out about Scott’s dad. He’s become a concern.”

Noshiko’s expression softens. “I can tell that you view Scott as one of your own, and even though Deputy Hale didn’t say much, he was looking to you.”

“He’s my right hand,” Noah offers.

“Ah,” Noshiko says. “That explains it. My thanks for your welcome, and your candor, Noah.”

Noah inclines his head. “Of course.”

With Kira there, Noah isn’t going to talk about pack business, but Moira says, “Stiles and I are going to run over to the Mahealanis, and we’ll pick up what we need for dinner on our way back.”

“Derek, if you have a few moments, I’d like to talk to you about station business in my office,” Noah says.

“We’ll just be here working on homework,” Scott says, with a slightly shy look in Kira’s direction.

Noah is just glad that Scott is interested in someone who isn’t a hunter.

Derek follows him up to his office and sits down across from his desk.

“Thoughts?” Noah prompts.

Derek shrugs. “Noshiko doesn’t trust werewolves. I’m pretty sure if it wouldn’t have been the height of rudeness, she’d have hustled Kira out of here. I’m also sure that if she’d known Stiles was part of a pack, they wouldn’t have brought Kira along at all.”

“That was my take as well,” Noah admits. “Do you foresee a problem with that?”

Derek smiles. “If we earn her trust, no, but I don’t think that will be easy to do.”

“I suppose if I’d been alive for more than 900 years, I might have a fairly dim view of humanity,” Noah jokes.

“I didn’t need 900 years for that,” Derek replies.

Noah barks a laugh. “Yeah, same here.” His phone beeps with an incoming text, and Noah checks the message. “Looks like they need me at the station. Will you stick around here as the chaperone?”

Derek snorts. “I don’t know when I became the responsible adult.”

Noah pats him on the should on his way out the door. “Certainly about the time you put on the badge.”

Really, though, Noah feels as though he has a good team in his corner, and if he has to run a couple of foxes out of Beacon Hills, he’ll do that.

When he gets to the station, Parrish is nearly vibrating with excitement, but Mark just looks tired. From Noah’s experience, that means something along the lines of a serial killer—which for a new deputy is exciting, and for an experienced one means a hell of a lot of work.

“How bad?” Noah asks Mark, trusting his judgment.

Mark lets out a mirthless chuckle. “Serial killer. How many of those can we have at a time?”

Noah considers the question—Kate Argent, Deucalion, Brunski—and says, “Well, at least we’re not in the 1970s or 1980s.”

Mark nods philosophically. “Fair.”

“What was going on then?” Parrish asks, sounding bewildered.

Mark actually facepalms, as Stiles might say, and Noah sighs. “The most prolific serial killers in history—that we know of—were all operating then.”

The light dawns on Parrish’s face. “Bundy, Gacy, Ridgeway, and the rest.”

“Exactly,” Noah replies. “But we’re not living in that time, and let’s all give thanks. Tell me what you found.”

“Trophies,” Parrish says. “We think, but we’ve managed to match them up to at least two other deaths.”

Noah pinches the bridge of his nose. “Son of a bitch. Are your reports done?”

Mark nods. “Preliminary ones, yes. We thought you might want to contact the feds.”

“The feds and any other help we can get,” Noah replies grimly. “We don’t have the manpower to investigate a residential facility, or a serial killer, and we certainly don’t have the capacity to investigate both at once.”

“Thank god for a sensible boss,” Mark says fervently. “I made sure the pieces were all there to get the feds to agree. Please get them to agree, because this is going to be massive, sir.”

Noah gives him a sharp look. “How sure are you, Mark?”

“Wait until you see what we gathered, Sheriff,” Mark replies. “The noose is tied to the most recent death, but there were two other pieces that we connected to other deaths, and there were at least five additional trophies, and probably more as we unearth them. If we unearth them.”

Noah sighs deeply. “Well, no rest for the wicked, and the righteous don’t need any, as my dad used to say. Of course, my dad was a son of a bitch, so what did he know?”

“He knew that the righteous don’t rest, because the wicked never do,” Mark replies, causing Parrish to smile. “But even sons of bitches know that.”

Noah decides to let him have the last word.

~~~~~

When his dad walks the Yukimuras out, Moira leans in close to Stiles. “We need to fill in the coven, and I think Scott and Kira might deserve some time alone.”

Stiles glances over, and sees Scott and Kira making eyes at each other. “Yeah, agreed. I’m rooting for those two.”

“Her mom may have something to say about that,” Moira comments. “She doesn’t have much faith in ‘wolves.”

Stiles shrugs. “She doesn’t have to have faith in the ‘wolves to have faith in the coven. You’re our secret ingredient.”

“Let’s hope so,” Moira replies. “But we know how to work around foxes.”

Stiles gives her a look. “Well, you do. I’ve never dealt with a kitsune before.”

“You’re more like a fox than you think, young spark,” Moira replies. “But we can take a few precautions.”

“And that’s what the coven is for,” Stiles says.

“Pretty much,” Moira agrees. She speaks briefly with his dad while Stiles puts Batman’s vest on him and clips on his leash. He grabs his duffel bag with his judo gear, and he and Batman climb into Moira’s Prius for the trip across town.

Stiles doesn’t know if they’re expected or not, but he knows Moira well enough to know that she’d at least texted ahead.

Noelani greets them at the door, and ushers them inside. “How did she take it?” Noelani asks, diving right into it.

“She wasn’t a fan,” Moira admits. “I suspect she’s had a bad experience with werewolves in the past.”

Noelani nods, as though the news is expected. “Probably with Satomi.”

Moira blinks. “Well, fuck me,” she says. “I can’t believe I didn’t put those two things together. She’s still in the area?”

Noelani nods. “I reached out to her. She’s friendly with the sheriff of that county, Shelly Morrison.”

“My dad knows Sheriff Morrison,” Stiles blurts out. “She mentioned another Alpha, but was kind of cagey about it, from what he said.”

“Well, things come full circle,” Moira murmurs. “Was she also in the camp?”

Noelani nods. “She was. She was bitten at some point, although she hasn’t been willing to talk about the circumstances.”

Stiles blinks. “Wait—does that mean… How long is my dad going to live?”

Moira glances at him. “Given his status as a born wolf who’s been bitten, and the strength of his pack? He could live decades longer than he might have. And as you may have already picked up, magic is a great preservative as well.”

The thought has crossed Stiles’ mind before, but now it really sinks in. The fact that there’s a local Alpha who had been an adult during World War II, and had survived an internment camp, and is still kicking and vital?

Well, there’s comfort to that. His dad could very well be around for a long time to come.

“Okay, so what does that mean for us?” Stiles asks. “Beyond the obvious benefit to me that my dad will be around for a long time.”

“Let’s sit,” Noelani suggests. “It’s just me here, but I think that might be for the best. Do you want anything to drink?”

Moira shakes her head. “No, I’m good. Stiles?”

“Maybe some water?” Stiles says. “For me and Batman.”

“You know where it is,” Noemi says with a wink in his direction.

Stiles does know where the glasses are, and he fills one with the filtered water from the fridge, as well as the spare water dish for Batman. Noelani and Moira are chatting quietly in the living room, and Stiles hears a snippet as he approaches.

Moira says, “No, dear heart. I’ve committed to staying here for the long run.”

“I have enjoyed spending more time with my daughter and my grandson,” Noelani admits. “And while I will have to go back to ensure everything is going well a couple of times per year—“

They break off the conversation when Stiles gets closer, and Stiles realizes that their relationship is closer, and deeper, than he thought.

Stiles keeps his mouth shut, though. It’s none of his business, and he just hopes they make each other happy.

“Let’s talk, Stiles,” Moira says. “This goes beyond just coven business.”

Stiles puts Batman’s dish on the ground and sits next to Moira. “Okay.”

“Eventually, you’ll be the emissary of your father’s pack, and then likely Derek’s, when it passes to him,” Moira says. “I expect you’ll go to college, and will probably work outside Beacon Hills for some years, perhaps a decade or more.”

Stiles feels a pang at that. “Yeah, but I don’t have to.”

“No, no, mo chroi,” Moira quickly says. “You mistake me. People like us—we travel. We make connections. We make friends, and sometimes we make enemies. When you graduate from high school, and you are ready to leave, Noelani and I will be here. We’ve both decided that this is where we need to be, to hold it in trust for you.”

Stiles blinks, trying to digest her words. “What does that have to do with Satomi or the Yukimuras?”

“Noelani knows Satomi well, because of her travels, and we can help them bury the hatchet if necessary,” Moira says.

“And Moira has a strong reputation,” Noelani says. “Her presence here will only help your father.”

Stiles is beginning to understand. “And I’m going to travel and make connections so that when I’m ready to take over, I’ll have that strong reputation.”

“Exactly so,” Moira replies. “But first, we must discuss what it means to make peace between ‘wolves and foxes.”

Stiles frowns. “If we neutralize the nogitsune, wouldn’t that do it? I mean, from what she said, Mrs. Yukimura is responsible for calling it here. If we put an end to it, wouldn’t that help?”

“It might,” Noelani agrees. “But it might also send the message that we’ve done what she couldn’t.”

Stiles frowns. “Okay, I guess we want to be as gentle as we can be, but we’re talking about a vengeance spirit and a possible possession. I think the only reason it didn’t try to get to me is because I have the tattoo.”

“My wards are robust,” Moira comments. “But there’s a reason I agreed that you should get it.”

“Could it possess a werewolf?” Stiles asks.

“It could certainly influence one, and Derek had very good reasons to remain free of influence,” Moira replies.

Stiles looks at Noelani. “Are you going to reach out to Satomi?”

“I will,” Noelani replies. “And frankly, there’s a reason that your father hasn’t met her yet. She’s friendly with Sheriff Morrison, but Satomi isn’t going to allow her to set up a meeting. She might agree if I make the overture, though.”

Stiles feels his eyes go unfocused, and he dimly hears Batman whine gently next to him. He feels as though he’s being pulled along the telluric currents, gagging when he runs through a spot of rot, washed away by the clean magic in other spots.

“Stiles? Stiles, what’s wrong?” Moira asks, but Stiles isn’t able to respond, and he hears Noelani say, “Leave him, honey. The earth has something to tell him.”

Stiles briefly sees Mr. Yukimura take a book off a shelf in his classroom and open it. There are hollowed out segments in the pages, and Mr. Yukimura removes a thin object that looks a bit like a knife and breaks it.

Dark smoke coalesces into shadows, which form into human figures wearing black masks, black clothing, and glowing yellow points for eyes behind the masks. They look like something out of a samurai film. The figures then dissipate, and Stiles is borne along the telluric currents again.

Rafe McCall is sitting in a nondescript sedan outside Mrs. McCall’s house, parked across the street and a couple houses down. The ohni begin to appear outside the car, surrounding it.

McCall’s eyes narrow, and he climbs out of the car, moving slowly and deliberately. “Do you really think you’re going to get anywhere with me?”

Stiles is pretty sure that means that McCall is at least under the influence of the nogitsune, if he isn’t possessed.

The ohni advance on him, drawing closer, and McCall’s hand shoots out abruptly, disappearing into the chest of the ohni closest to him, and then withdraws. He opens his closed fist to reveal a dying firefly.

The ohni disappears, and McCall does the same thing to the other three menacing him, moving more quickly than Stiles would expect.

At the end of it, the ohni have been neutralized, which isn’t great, but it does confirm who’s possessed—or whatever you’d call it.

The vision releases him at that point, and Stiles comes back to himself. Batman is half in his lap, whining, as Stiles blinks to clear his vision.

“I think the Nemeton was helping me,” he finally says after a long moment. “It wants to be clear of the corruption. That’s why I’ve been feeling so off balance. It’s been trying to reach me.”

“What did you see?” Moira asks.

Stiles relates what he’d just witnessed, including the fact that McCall had taken out the ohni without breaking a sweat.

“I think that tells us that the nogitsune has full control,” Moira says grimly.

“Can we exorcise it?” Stiles asks.

Noelani shakes her head. “It’s not like a demonic possession, Stiles. There’s no exorcism spell for something like this. It takes over the entire person.”

“You know, normally I would say that almost anything would be an improvement on the original Agent McCall, but maybe not,” Stiles mutters.

Moira snorts. “Well, no, possession is rarely an improvement on anything.”

Stiles scratches behind Batman’s ears. “Why can’t there be dog possessions? People getting possessed by the spirit of a Golden retriever wouldn’t be terrible.”

Noelani smiles. “If only. But that’s not where we are. We’ll have to find a way to get rid of the nogitsune. I hate to say it, but it will be easier to do now that we know it’s found a home.”

Stiles glances at the clock on the wall. “I have judo, and Sensei O.B. isn’t going to be happy if I’m late.”

“I’ll drive you,” Moira replies.

Noelani says, “Why don’t we all go together? We can make a plan at the coffee shop during Stiles’ class.”

“Wonderful,” Moira agrees.

Stiles is rather amused that Moira and Noelani are using his judo class to go on a date, but he can’t blame them.

Stiles walks into the dojo, and he feels the same sense of safety that he always does. Here, Stiles is just another student, learning how to use his body in a different way.

He has his next belt test soon, and Stiles has every intention of getting his green belt. He’s passed the tests for his yellow and orange belts the first time, and he wants to continue that streak.

Leigh greets Stiles as he enters. “Stiles, good to see you today. Did you want to go over the testing next week?”

“Yeah, that would be great,” Stiles says quickly. “But it’s not necessary.”

“I don’t mind helping my favorite student,” Leigh says with a wink. “That just makes me look good.”

Sensei O.B. calls the class to order. There are only about half a dozen students, and he says, “All of you are testing for your belts next week. I want all of you to pass, so I made sure there were enough teachers here to ensure that happens. Do not disappoint me.”

Leigh grins at him. “I told you. I called dibs on you, by the way.”

“I kind of love you,” Stiles admits.

“I kind of love you right back, kiddo,” Leah replies. “Have you thought about how Batman might help you in a fight?”

Stiles has given it some thought. “Yeah, a little bit. But he’s super innocent, so I don’t want to hurt him. I have worked on a certain order, though. Batman, protect!”

Batman bares his teeth and growls loudly. “Batman, friend, she’s cool.”

Batman sits and pants, opening his mouth in a wide, doggy grin.

“Batman, make friends,” Stiles says.

Batman sidles up to Leigh and offers his paw to shake.

Leigh shakes his paw, looking absolutely delighted. “You are a great protector.”

“That’s what we’ve worked on,” Stiles says. “Batman is really responsive to me, so I think if there was a real threat, he’d respond even without me telling him, but we haven’t tested it.”

“Well, you have a really good boy here,” Leigh replies. “So, let’s get cracking.”

Stiles is sweaty and spent by the end of their session, but he’s confident that he’ll pass his belt test next week. “Thank you, Sensei Leigh.”

“You are, as always, an excellent student, Stiles,” she says. “But you seem tired. Is everything good at home?”

“We’re good,” Stiles insists. “I’ve just been busy, that’s all.”

Leigh smiles. “I’m glad that’s all it is.”

Stiles finds Moira and Noelani waiting for him outside the dojo, and they drop Noelani off at home before heading to the grocery store for dinner supplies.

“What are we going to do about Agent McCall?” Stiles asks as they start gathering supplies. “It seems like he’s targeting Scott and Mrs. McCall.”

“The nogitsune seeks chaos and strife,” Moira replies. “But it still has to work with the material it’s given.”

“So, because Agent McCall is focused on Mrs. McCall and Scott, so is the nogitsune?” Stiles asks.

Moira nods. “Precisely. There’s a lichen that’s long been used to kill foxes, coyotes, and wolves. It won’t kill a supernatural creature, but it will weaken it. Noelani will be over here in a little bit with the solution, and we’ll use Scott to bait the trap.”

“Oh, goody,” Stiles mutters, but he can see the wisdom of the plan. “And then?”

“Then we find a way to trap it or destroy it,” Moira replies. “The same way we found a way to stop Jennifer Blake.”

“You seem really calm about all of this,” Stiles feels compelled to point out.

Moira pats him on the shoulder. “Up until now, the nogitsune hasn’t been able to fully possess anyone, just influence them. Now, it’s in one person, and we know who. That was its mistake.”

Stiles begins to understand. Instead of being a vague threat, the nogitsune has become a very specific one.

Moira’s cell phone chimes with an incoming text. “Noelani can obtain the ingredients, so we’ll be able to proceed this evening. Check to see where Scott is, will you?”

Stiles texts Scott and quickly gets a response. took kira home her mom wants 2 talk 2 u & moira

“He took Kira home,” Stiles says, “and Mrs. Yukimura wants to talk to us.”

“Not surprising,” Moira comments. “Ask him to have her meet us at your house.”

Stiles passes word along, and they head back to the house. It’s empty, and Stiles finds the Post-It note on the fridge, indicating that Derek had gone out on a run when Scott and Kira left.

The doorbell rings, and Stiles frowns, feeling the wards around the house ping in a way that suggests a supernatural creature is present, one not recognized by the wards. “That must be Mrs. Yukimura.”

“As expected,” Moira admits. “She’ll have realized that her ohni were unsuccessful, and she probably wants to know what we’re going to do about it.”

Stiles goes to the front door, and sure enough, it’s Mrs. Yukimura, although she’s come alone this time.

“Come on in,” Stiles says, stepping aside.

“You already know,” Mrs. Yukimura says flatly.

Stiles shrugs. “I saw it. I think the Nemeton wanted me to know.”

He leads her back to the kitchen, and Moira looks over her shoulder where she’s stirring the taco meat on the stove. “I do appreciate you flushing it out.”

“Then you have a plan?” Mrs. Yukimura asks.

Moira nods. “Noelani and I have worked it out. We’ll bait a trap for it tonight.”

Mrs. Yukimura shakes her head. “Then what was all that about?”

“The Hale pack protects this territory,” Moira says quietly. “We can work together, but if we work separately, I believe that we will fail.”

Mrs. Yukimura sighs audibly. “I’m not used to trusting others.”

“You trust your husband,” Moira points out.

Mrs. Yukimura still appears unconvinced, but Stiles can see that she’s on the ropes. It’s not like she has much choice in the matter. Her ohni were ineffectual against the nogitsune, and she doesn’t have much of a plan past that.

“I hope you can do what you claim to be able to do,” Mrs. Yukimura finally says. “Because the only way I know of to get rid of the nogitsune at this point would be to kill the host.”

Moira gives her a look. “And then it would simply find a new host and perpetuate the problem. If we don’t want to continue dealing with it, we need to trap it.”

“Granted,” Mrs. Yukimura eventually admits. “I’m sorry to have interrupted.”

“Come back later tonight,” Moira invites. “And we’ll see what we can do to bring this creature to an end.”

Mrs. Yukimura smiles. “I certainly hope so.”

The front door opens, and Scott calls out, “Hello?”

“Back in the kitchen, Scotty,” Stiles replies.

Scott comes through, looking a little hesitant. “What’s up?”

Mrs. Yukimura says, “I’ve taken up enough of your time, Moira. I’ll see you later.”

“Stiles, would you see her out?” Moira asks. “I need to talk to Scott for a moment.”

Stiles knows that means she wants a moment to break the news to Scott that his dad is possessed, and they’re using him as bait.

He escorts Mrs. Yukimura to the front door, and she pauses there. “I did some research, Stiles, and I think I know what triggered your magic.”

Stiles hesitates. “If you did your research, you probably do. The hunters have a lot to answer for.”

“Kitsune usually do not attract notice from the hunters,” Mrs. Yukimura says. “It makes me hesitant.”

“My dad knows how to use the law,” Stiles replies. “And sometimes, he knows how to get around the law.”

Mrs. Yukimura nods slowly. “I see. I’m sure being a werewolf has complicated matters for him.”

Stiles shrugs. “We’re making it work.”

“I see that,” she replies. “Thank you, Stiles.”

Stiles plants himself in the living room, waiting for the all-clear from Moira, playing a game on his phone.

Scot emerges from the kitchen a few minutes later and sits next to him on the couch. “I know I said my dad was maybe possessed, but dude.”

“At least you know that he hasn’t turned into a raging psychopath?” Stiles offers.

Scott snorts. “Well, I guess there’s that.”

“You okay with this? Being bait, I mean,” Stiles clarifies.

“If it saves my dad’s life, yeah,” Scott replies. “He’s an asshole, but I don’t want him possessed by a chaos demon, or dead.”

Stiles puts an arm around Scott’s shoulders. “I know you don’t, buddy.”

“Do you really think we can save him?” Scott asks.

Stiles leaves his arm where it is. “Yeah, I do.”

He believes the pack can do just about anything if they work together.

~~~~~

Derek walks through the front door to the scent of spiced meat, and the sight of Stiles and Scott huddled together on the couch.

“What happened?” he asks.

He’d gone for a run once his services as a chaperone were no longer required, and he’s feeling centered again. As much as he loves his pack, and he loves being around them, he needs space and solitude, too.

But Derek isn’t expecting to return home to find Scott looking like his entire world had come to an end.

Stiles glances up at him. “We confirmed that Scott’s dad is possessed by the nogitsune. We’re setting a trap for him tonight.”

“Does Noah know?” Derek asks.

“Moira was going to call him,” Stiles replies.

Derek nods and goes back to the kitchen. “I heard your question, and Noah is on his way home now,” Moira says when he enters. She’s drinking a glass of wine, and appears tired. “Noelani will join us after dinner. Other than you, Scott, and Stiles, I’ll be asking the other pack members to find somewhere else to be.”

Derek grabs a bottle of water out of the fridge. “Do you think we’ll be able to resolve this tonight?”

“I don’t know, but if we can’t, I’m not sure what we’ll do,” Moira admits. “We cannot allow the nogitsune to run around now that it has possessed Agent McCall. The more chaos and strife it causes, the stronger it will become.”

“And it’s going to target Scott,” Derek says flatly.

Moira tips her head in acknowledgement. “And by extension, the pack, yes. I have a few tricks up my sleeve if we can’t banish the nogitsune, but I have no idea if they’ll work on this sort of spirit.”

“We’ve always managed it,” Derek says. “We’ll muddle through again.”

Moira smiles. “I appreciate your faith, Derek.”

“It’s never been misplaced before,” Derek replies.

Moira pats him on the arm, her expression fond. “Noah is lucky to have you as his right hand.”

Derek feels himself blush. “I should go get cleaned up.”

Moira chuckles as he flees. He takes a quick shower and changes into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, since they’re expecting company later.

Plus, if the nogitsune is going to show up, Derek wants to be ready for a fight.

When he goes downstairs, the other pack members have started arriving. It’s just the younger ones tonight: Erica, Boyd, Isaac, Cora, and now Malia, as well as Scott and Stiles. Derek is a little surprised to see Dave enter the house with Cocoa and Nibs in tow.

Batman greets the other dogs rapturously, and Dave says, “I’ll just put them out in the backyard, if that’s all right, Stiles.”

“Yeah, that’s great,” Stiles replies. “Thanks, Dave.”

“Did Moira contact you?” Derek asks, following Dave out to the back deck.

“I’m the left hand,” Dave reminds him. “Which means I should be here. Tara agreed to cover my shift, and the Sheriff should be here shortly.”

“How are things going?” Derek asks.

Dave shakes his head. “We’re going to have our work cut out for us, that’s for sure. It’s early days yet, but we think Brunski had a number of victims, at least half a dozen, but possibly more.”

Derek frowns. “How long is the investigation going to take?”

“Months?” Dave guesses. “Years? These sorts of investigations always take longer than you’d think, unless someone confesses and pleads guilty.”

Derek blows out a breath. “I guess it’s at least a good thing that Brunski is out of commission.”

“Certainly,” Dave replies. “Let’s get something to eat. Whatever Moira is making smells delicious.”

Derek sighs. “We’ll likely need our strength.”

The food has been set out in the kitchen, waiting for folks to fill their plates. There are hard and soft taco shells, shredded cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, salsa—basically anything anyone might want.

Erica is the one to broach the subject. “So, what’s the big deal for tonight?”

“We’re going to take care of the nogitsune,” Moira says firmly. “But that means it will be coming here, and I want the rest of you to be safe.”

“Could it influence us?” Isaac asks, as Noah enters the house and heads for the kitchen. “Should we have gotten the tattoo?”

“That would always be up to you,” Noah comments. “Bodily autonomy is important.”

Isaac looks at Derek expectantly.

“I got it for my own reasons,” Derek says. “And it wasn’t all to do with the nogitsune.”

Cora shrugs. “I wanted to support my brother, and I don’t really want anything messing with my head.”

“I thought I’d be a target,” Stiles says. “And if it got ahold of me and my magic, it would be a little too powerful.”

“I’m glad I’m not that special then,” Boyd mutters.

Stiles grins. “You’re very special, Boyd.”

Boyd rolls his eyes. “Don’t be a dick.”

“I was being completely sincere,” Stiles protests.

The thing is, Stiles sounds sincere, and not like he’s trolling, and Boyd smiles. “Thank you, Stiles.”

“Everyone in this pack is special in their own way,” Noah says, although there’s a twinkle in his eye. “Where is everyone spending the night tonight?”

“Boyd and I are going back to our place,” Isaac says. “And folks are welcome to join us.”

“I’d prefer if you all stuck together,” Noah admits.

Erica nods. “I already told my parents we were having a sleepover. It’s easy enough to stay with the boys.”

“Please stay out of trouble,” Noah says. “There’s too much going on to be rescuing anyone.”

Boyd’s expression is serious. “Straight to our place, and we’ll stay there all night unless you need us.”

“Their place is well warded,” Moira adds. “The whole building is, since Parrish lives there, too.”

Derek knows that both Isaac and Boyd are responsible, but if Boyd says they’ll go straight home and stay there all night, then they’re not stirring from the apartment until tomorrow morning. Boyd might not say much, but he’s emerged as a quiet leader among the younger pack members.

“Good,” Noah says. “I’m holding all of you to that.”

Erica nods, her expression resolute. “Got it. We’ll stay out of the way so you can take care of the bad guy.”

“It’s much appreciated,” Noah replies.

“We should probably stop at the store along the way for snacks,” Isaac says. “We don’t have much in the apartment.”

Noah frowns. “Do you need anything?”

Boyd shakes his head. “No, we’ve got it covered. Thanks, though.”

Derek resolves to have a private word with Cora before they leave, and to slip her a twenty if necessary.

Once most of the food has been consumed, and the rest has been put away and the kitchen cleaned up, the kids put on their coats and get ready to leave.

Derek pulls Cora aside and hands her some money. “In case you need it.”

Cora smiles. “We got it, bro. You take care of the evil fox spirit.”

Derek gives her a hug. “We will. I’ll text you when it’s over.”

“Look after Stiles and Scott,” Cora says. “Scott hasn’t said much, but I know he’s pretty freaked out.”

“I will,” Derek promises, knowing what it means that Cora is asking that of him. She’s developing deep bonds with the rest of the pack, and he’s glad to see it.

Cora gives him another quick hug, and then they all troop out. That leaves Derek with Noah, Moira, Dave, Scott, and Stiles.

“Noelani is on her way,” Moira says, looking up from her phone. “She has what we need. Scott, I spoke to your mom, and she’s staying with Detective Rossi tonight. We need to limit the number of targets that the nogitsune has. Noshiko is also on her way over. We’ll all get into place, and then you’ll text your father.”

Scott grimaces. “What am I supposed to say?”

“You’re going to tell him that you want nothing to do with him,” Moira replies. “And he’s going to come here to force the issue, which is when we’ll have him.”

Scott frowns. “But you’re not going to hurt him, are you?”

“What we’ll give him might make him sick for a time, but it won’t kill him,” Moira assures him. “But we cannot allow this to continue. The nogitsune will grow stronger through chaos and strife. Two people have already been influenced to do things they wouldn’t normally do. If your father remains possessed, he may well jeopardize both his career and his freedom.”

Scott heaves a deep, audible sigh. “I understand, and I get it. I don’t want anything bad to happen to him.”

Moira nods. “At the end of this, Scott, you’ll have to decide how much you want your dad to know. I don’t think you can hide everything, though.”

Scott nods. “I understand. I want to talk to my mom before I make any decisions.”

Moira nods approvingly. “We’ll call her once we have the nogitsune contained.”

Stiles sticks close to Scott in the living room as they wait for Noelani to arrive. She turns up in about fifteen minutes with a small pouch.

“With us, Stiles,” Moira says. “We’re going to prepare the solution in the kitchen, and we’ll need your intent.”

Stiles pats Scott on the shoulder. “You’re going to be fine, and so will your dad. We’re going to make certain of it.”

Derek sits next to Scott, and he’s staring at his hands, the muscle in his jaw working overtime. Hesitantly, Derek puts a hand on Scott’s shoulder, uncertain how to offer comfort, but then Scott leans into his touch.

Derek leaves his hand where it is, and he’s glad they’ve come this far.

~~~~~

Noah had spoken to Mel himself before leaving the station, explaining the plan—luring Rafe in, using Scott as bait, and then neutralizing the spirit that has possessed him.

He doesn’t tell her that Moira has some doubt as to whether they’ll be successful, nor does he tell her that they have no idea what they’ll do with McCall if they can’t contain the nogitsune.

Then again, he’s expecting her to focus on the fact that they’re using Scott as bait, and he’s proven correct.

“You’re not using Scott as bait,” she orders.

“He’s fixated on Scott, and on you,” Noah counters. “And he’ll be with me, Derek, and the coven, Mel. We need to contain the threat as quickly as possible, and I need you to be safe.”

“Why not use me as bait?” Mel asks, sounding a little desperate. “Keep Scott out of it!”

“Scott is a werewolf,” Noah replies patiently. “He’s a lot more damage-proof than you are. I’m sorry, but I want you to stay with Detective Rossi tonight. One way or another, we’re going to get this wrapped up.”

There’s a long pause. “What do you mean, one way or another?”

Noah takes a deep breath. “The longer the nogitsune is allowed to rampage, the stronger it will get. I hate to say this, but we’re lucky that we know who it’s chosen before it had the chance to do much damage.”

Mel makes a sound of frustration. “We’ve seen an uptick of assaults and other unexplainable accidents. Is that part of it?”

“That, and the thing at Eichen House,” Noah confirms. “Although, we can’t say for certain. It could be a fluke.”

“I don’t think so,” Mel replies grimly. “All right, Noah, we’ll play this your way. God knows I don’t want Rafe to…”

She’s probably thinking about what it would be like if McCall managed to harm, or even kill his only son.

“I don’t want that either,” Noah says. “Look, stay with Mark tonight. No one will know that you’re there, other than him and the pack. If Scott knows you’re safe, it will make this a lot easier.”

“I trust you,” Mel finally says. “Of course, I trust you, and I’ll stay with Deputy Rossi tonight. Please let me know when it’s done.”

Noah breathes out a sigh of relief, because he hadn’t been sure she would agree. “I will. I’ll call as soon as it’s over, or at least calmed down.”

“Look after my son,” Mel says. “I trust you, Noah.”

He knows what she’s not saying—she trusts him, but she’ll hold him responsible if something happens to Scott. It’s only fair, because Noah will hold himself responsible.

“You know I’ll look after him like he’s my own, because he is,” Noah says.

Mel lets out a slightly watery chuckle. “Thank you, and I’m only agreeing because I know the alternative means that Rafe comes after one or both of us in an uncontrolled environment.”

“I understand that,” Noah replies. “I’ll keep you updated.”

Noah puts his cell phone down and looks around the interior of his office without really seeing it.

Not for the first time, Noah feels as though he has way too much on his plate. If they can contain the nogitsune, and get through the sentencing, then Noah can focus on his pack and the investigation into Eichen House.

Of course, they’ll have to navigate a move to the new house, and whatever else gets thrown at them, but Noah is willing to ignore that for now.

The nogitsune tonight, then the sentencing. One thing at a time.

Noah breathes, and reminds himself that he’s been through worse. His son is at home, safe, and they have a plan.

They always do better if they have a plan.

He knows that he need to get moving if he’s going to be there in time for dinner, and tacos are always very popular.

Noah stops by Tara’s desk on his way out. “Thanks for covering Dave’s shift.”

“Happy to help,” she assures him. “And if you need any of us, just call. We’ll make sure everything is covered.”

Noah smiles. “I have the best team.”

“Yeah, you do,” Tara replies. “And we won’t let you forget it.”

Noah normally takes his gun and belt off as soon as he gets home, but he leaves it on tonight. He’s never without a weapon, but the last thing he wants is to accidentally turn McCall.

Noah doesn’t want that asshole in his pack.

Dinner is usually raucous when the kids are all there, and tonight is no exception, even if Scott is fairly quiet.

They send the rest of the kids to Boyd and Isaac’s apartment, and Moira and Noelani disappear into the kitchen once Noelani shows up with the necessary ingredients for whatever potion they’re using to subdue McCall.

And Noah is no longer surprised about the weirdness that is his life.

He’s glad to see Derek reaching out to Scott, offering comfort, and Scott accepting it without protest. That tells Noah just how well the pack has gelled.

He and Dave sit at the dining room table, and Noah can hear the dogs whining at the back door.

“Should we let them in?” Dave asks.

“I’d rather not,” Noah admits. “I don’t want to risk them. If anything happened to those dogs, Stiles would never forgive himself.”

“It wouldn’t be his fault, but I take your point,” Dave replies. “Maybe we could put them in Stiles’ room? It smells like him, so they’ll probably settle down.”

Noah considers it. “Yeah, let’s try it. I suppose they could startle McCall by barking, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

Dave gets the dogs inside and herded upstairs to Stiles’ room, and Stiles, Moira, and Noelani emerge from the kitchen with a syringe and a large vial of yellow-green liquid.

“All right, Scotty,” Stiles says. “I think we’re good to go if you want to text your dad.”

Scott grimaces. “I think it would be going too far to say that I want to text him.”

Noah can see Derek squeezing his shoulder.

“But I will,” Scott adds, pulling out his cell phone. “What am I saying again?”

“Be as bratty as possible,” Noah advises. “If you piss him off enough, he’s not going to even wonder if it’s a trap.”

That pulls a grin out of Scott. “I shouldn’t have any trouble with that.”

“You said it, I didn’t,” Noah teases.

Scott taps out a message, then holds his phone out for Noah to see before hitting send.

we r done. i hv a family & it doesn’t include u. i’m staying with the sheriff. DO NOT COME.

Noah chuckles. “Well, that’s certainly throwing down the gauntlet. I think it will work.”

Moira glances over his shoulder. “Hm, only slightly less bratty than a five-year-old announcing they’re running away from home because you hurt their feelings. I might add something slightly more insulting, like how he’s never done anything for you.”

Scott smirks. “I didn’t know being mean could be this fun.”

“He did kind of pick a fight with the entire pack,” Stiles points out. “And disrupt your life. And nearly get himself arrested while doing a little light stalking.”

“True,” Scott muses, and then types out something else, adding, all u do is make my life worse

“That ought to do it,” Noah agrees.

Moira claps her hands together. “Places everyone. Stiles, McCall will expect you and Noah to be here, but the rest of us, not so much. Scott, let him confront you, and keep him distracted so we can inject him.”

Scott nods, a determined tilt to his mouth. “Got it. Between me and Stiles, we can definitely keep him fixated on us.”

“And I will be right here making sure you don’t get yourselves killed,” Noah mutters.

Derek rises from the couch and pats first Scott, then Stiles, on the shoulder. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Noelani has been watching all of this with bright eyes, and she hands off the syringe to Moira. “I think you might have better aim, hon.”

“If you can provoke him to attack you, all the better,” Moira says cheerfully. “That will give Noah an opportunity to intervene, and then I can stab him with the syringe.”

Stiles’ eyes narrow. “You seem rather excited by the prospect.”

“I haven’t stabbed anyone in ages,” Moira replies with a wink.

Noah decides that he’s not going to ask about the last time Moira stabbed someone—if she’s being serious. He’s pretty sure she is.

Moira also retreats to the kitchen, and they don’t have to wait long for the banging on the front door to begin.

“He must have been in the neighborhood,” Scott mutters.

Stiles shrugs. “Not a bad guess if he couldn’t find you at your house.”

“Should I answer?” Scott asks.

“Scott!” McCall bellows from the porch. “I know you’re in there!”

“I’ll answer the door,” Noah says. “I need you boys to stay on the couch. Let him work himself up into a froth, okay?”

Stiles and Scott both nod, and Noah goes to the door, pulling it open abruptly. “If you keep up that racket, the neighbors are going to call the cops,” Noah says, stepping aside to allow him entrance, even though he doesn’t want to.

McCall storms into the house, still yelling for Scott.

“I’m right here, Dad,” Scott says, and Noah is glad to see that he’s following instructions and staying on the couch.

Noah has been in plenty of volatile situations in the past, but McCall seems almost unhinged. The veins in his neck and forehead bulge, his face is ruddy with temper, and Noah can see spittle coming out of his mouth as he talks.

He remembers what Moira had said about the nogitsune having to work with the material it had, and McCall had always had a temper.

In some ways, it’s a blessing to have the nogitsune so focused on Scott, because Noah shudders to think of the damage it could have caused had it gone hidden longer, or had it not been so fixated.

“You need to come with me right now,” McCall orders. “Your mother has clearly turned you against me.”

Scott shakes his head stubbornly. “No. I want to stay with Mom and my friends. You were the one who left.”

McCall crosses the living room in two long strides and grabs Scott’s arm. “Stop being such a brat!” he yells.

Noah takes that as his cue to grab McCall. McCall is taller, but Noah has the element of surprise, using his speed to lock an arm around his neck.

“Moira!” he calls.

Moira is there, quick as a snake, and she stabs McCall’s neck with the syringe.

“What?” McCall manages to say before his eyes roll up into the back of his head, and he collapses.

Noah breaks his fall and lays him out on the floor. McCall is wearing a polo under his suit jacket, and Stiles tosses him a pillow from the couch, which Noah puts under his head.

Moira takes his pulse, and she says, “Vitals are strong and steady. He should be unconscious for a bit. We probably have three days to figure out how to get the nogitsune out of him before it exerts control again.”

Noelani kneels on the other side of McCall. “Can you sense it?”

“It has a hold on him, but not as strongly as it could,” Moira says grimly. “I think we might have reached him in time.”

“What would happen if you hadn’t?” Scott asks, sounding worried.

Moira gives him a reassuring look. “We would find a way, Scott.”

“Could I use the Nemeton?” Stiles asks.

Moira frowns. “It did give you the vision.”

There’s another knock on the door, and Noah frowns. “Who could that be?”

“Probably Mrs. Yukimura,” Stiles replies. “She was here again earlier, because she figured out her ohni didn’t work.”

Noah keeps his groan purely internal. “Just what we need, an audience,” he mutters.

Dave is standing near the door, his green eyes glittering, and Noah knows that he’s poised for a fight.

Noshiko and Ken are standing on the other side of the door, but at least they haven’t brought Kira. “Is it done?” she asks.

“He’s unconscious,” Noah confirms. “We’re deciding on next steps right now.”

He doesn’t really want to let them inside, but he steps aside anyway.

Noshiko sees McCall on the floor. “You managed to knock him out?”

“We used a solution with a particular kind of lichen,” Moira replies. “He’ll be out for a while, and the nogitsune should be quiescent for about three days.”

“I don’t think we can wait that long,” Stiles says. His eyes are glowing golden.

Moira frowns. “Stiles, we should be cautious about this. We have a little time.”

Stiles shakes his head vehemently. “We have to hit it while it’s at its weakest, Moira. That’s what the Nemeton’s message meant.”

“I thought he wasn’t a wolf,” Noshiko says, obviously confused. “Or a fox.”

Stiles glances up at her. He’s kneeling next to Moira on the floor, and he grins. “I told you: I’m magic.”

Moira sighs. “We’ll move this outside. Noelani—“

“I’ll call Alana and Danny,” Noelani promises. “We can at least form a circle for safety.”

“Dave,” Noah says.

“Derek and I will get him,” Dave says.

Scott hops to his feet. “I’ll get the heat lamps started outside.”

“Are you sure you can do this?” Noah asks his son. “Without hurting yourself?”

Stiles nods. “I’m sure. The Nemeton wanted to be rid of the taint, and it gave me the vision. We can’t wait for it to get more of a hold, or find a more suitable host. The more damage it causes, the harder it’s going to be to cleanse the ley lines, and the Nemeton.”

Noah swallows. He’s recognized that his kid is magic, and that sometimes means that he’s more involved than Noah would like, and doing things that Noah doesn’t entirely understand.

“All right,” Noah finally says. “Do what you have to do, Stiles, but be careful.”

“Careful as I can be,” Stiles promises.

~~~~~

Stiles doesn’t know how he knows that they have to strike now—plan or no plan—but he’s certain of it. The nogitsune is weak, but if they give it a chance to get stronger, it will be so much worse.

He knows that with the same certainty he’d known how to burn Jennifer Blake out of Derek.

But Stiles is a spark, and he’s beginning to understand when to let instinct take over.

Once his dad decides to go along with it, things start to move very quickly. Scott turns on the heat lamps around the deck, and Stiles uses the same tactic they’d had for divesting Derek of Jennifer’s influence.

There’s no indication that salt will work on a nogitsune, but Stiles believes that it will at least provide them some protection once he gets it out of Mr. McCall.

He believes, and he’s a spark. Stiles will make it work.

The salt water lines dry fairly quickly, and Stiles is grateful that it’s at least not raining, which would have complicated matters considerably. Once he gives the signal, Dave and Derek carry out McCall’s still form and lay him in the center of the circle where Stiles points.

“What else can we do, Stiles?” Dave asks.

Stiles shakes his head. “Nothing for right now. We’ll wait to start until the rest of the coven arrives.”

Stiles sits on the edge of the circle, and Scott sits down next to him after he spreads a blanket over his dad. “Are you sure you can do this, Stiles?”

“I have to try,” Stiles finally says after a long moment. “My gut says I can do it, but it has to be now.”

Scott nods. “Okay.”

“That’s it?”

“If you say you have to try, and you think you can do it, then you can do it,” Scott says simply. “I’ve felt your magic, Stiles.”

Scott’s faith buoys him. “Thanks.”

Danny and Alana arrive in less than half an hour, and Danny pulls Stiles up and into a hug. “You guys okay?”

“We’re good,” Stiles says. “Just, you know, about to do the impossible again.”

“Oh, so it’s a day ending in Y,” Danny jokes, turning to Scott, pulling him into a hug as well. “What about you? You okay?”

“Maybe a little freaked out,” Scott admits. “I know my mom said Dad has a temper, but I don’t remember ever seeing him like that.”

Stiles knows exactly why Scott doesn’t remember seeing his dad in a temper, but he keeps his mouth shut. Rafe McCall was a drunk asshole back then, but right now, he’s possessed. He might not be nearly as much of an asshole once Stiles gets the nogitsune out of him.

“Stiles, you’ll be anchoring the circle,” Moira calls. “If you’re still certain.”

Stiles nods. “I’m sure.”

He takes his place at the northern point, with Danny across from him to the south. Today, Noelani takes the western point, and Alana the east.

“I’m going to hold the space, along with Noshiko,” Moira says. “Focus on the nogitsune.”

Stiles nods. “Got it.”

He closes his eyes, feeling the call of the ley lines in the earth, a faint sound like a heartbeat echoing in his ears that he knows is the Nemeton.

Without the influence of the nogitsune, the Nemeton is starting to assert itself. Stiles might be worried about that, but the Nemeton is helping him right now, and that’s a worry for another day.

“Spirits of the north, I invoke you,” Stiles says. “Let earth hold and sustain us as we cleanse it.”

Noelani says, “Spirits of the west, I invoke you. Let the air buoy and sustain us as we cleanse the earth.”

Danny clears his throat. “Spirits of the south, I invoke you. Let fire help purify the earth.”

Finally, Alana says, “Spirits of the east, I invoke you. Let water quench the fire and regenerate our mother.”

Stiles takes a deep breath and focuses on the man in the circle, forgetting that it’s his best friend’s dad, and just thinking about him like he’s a victim of the supernatural.

And then the vision takes him, but this time Stiles knows what’s happening, and he just relaxes into it.

He finds himself sitting on the wide stump of what remains of the Nemeton, but he can feel the magic surging under him.

It wants to be free, but there’s a danger, and that danger is sitting in front of Stiles, looking just like him, and not Agent McCall.

“Wow, you really did want me, didn’t you?” Stiles asks. “I have to say, I’m flattered. Also, very glad I got that tattoo.”

His double grins at him. “Your magic is seductive, Stiles. Even if it hadn’t been awakened, your magic still would have been seductive. I could have taken it and used it to power myself, my aims, everything. I would have sucked you dry.”

In another universe, Stiles thinks that the nogitsune would have used him, used his cleverness, used his magic, and any magic in Stiles would have been drained, if it wasn’t completely corrupted.

Losing it probably would have been the better fate.

“Well, lucky for me my magic was active, and I took steps to protect myself,” Stiles replies. “Also, lucky for me, I have Moira.”

“That bitch,” the nogitsune hisses, and from his own lips it’s a foreign word. Stiles would never use that word for a woman that he loves.

Really, the only woman who might have earned that moniker is Jennifer Blake, and she’s dead.

“Keep a civil tongue in your head,” Stiles says mildly. “Because I’m about to destroy you.”

“Could you really destroy yourself?” the nogitsune asks.

“Sure I could,” Stiles replies. “If you’d taken control of me, I’d have asked Moira to slit my throat, and I would have let her do it.”

His own face blinks at him. “What?”

“I have a duty to my pack, and to this territory,” Stiles says, because his duty is becoming clear. “But you know that. You took control of my best friend’s dad for a reason, didn’t you? You wanted to get back here.”

The nogitsune shifts. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You spent years in the embrace of the Nemeton,” Stiles says. “You got ejected, and you want back in. You need chaos to survive, but you want peace, too. You’re fucked, my dude.”

“I don’t want peace,” the nogitsune says with his mouth, but that’s the thing, Stiles knows when he’s lying.

“Yeah, you do,” Stiles says. “I mean, you’d starve to death, but when you’re ready to do that, you can come back here.”

His own face blinks at him. “What?”

“Why don’t you go somewhere else?” Stiles suggests. “Why don’t you go bother some dictators or something? I can give you a list if that would help.”

The nogitsuna stares at him.

“Come on,” Stiles says. “You’re free to leave, right? You can go anywhere. Anywhere in the world. And maybe if you go cause chaos for some dictators or serial killers, or other terrible people, you can earn your way back here to the sanctuary we’re building. And then you can rest.”

His own face is wears an expression of such longing, such desire, that Stiles feels a reluctant sympathy. He’s known that longing. He’s known that yearning.

“Come on,” Stiles cajoles. “You could go cause chaos and yet do good in the world at the same time! But most importantly, you wouldn’t be doing it here.”

“I wish I could have taken you, Stiles,” it says, and the nogitsune changes from Stiles’ form to a bandage-wrapped person in a leather bomber jacket. “You would have been delightful.”

Stiles suppresses his shudder with some effort. “Then you’ll leave?”

“I can feel your power,” the nogitsune says sulkily. “And I am weak right now. I will go, and I will think about your advice.”

And then Stiles slams back into his body, into the circle, and then a swirl of fireflies rises from Rafe McCall’s chest and disappears.

Stiles takes a deep breath. “Let the circle be closed but remain unbroken, and let the earth be satisfied with our cleansing.”

He’s not entirely surprised when a form appears, floating above McCall’s unconscious body. “Well done, Stiles.”

“Do you have a name?” Stiles asks, ignoring everyone else for now, although he knows there will be questions later.

“I am the Nemeton,” they say. “That is all the identity I require. I just hope that you will be a better custodian than my last one.”

Apparently, tree spirits have a lot of personality, because the Nemeton sounds somewhat dubious of humanity.

Which, fair. Stiles shares that opinion the vast majority of the time.

“I can only promise that I’ll try,” Stiles says.

“Wise not to make promises that you may not be able to keep,” the Nemeton replies. “You will finish the cleansing when you’re ready.”

And then the Nemeton is gone.

“What the hell was that?” Noah asks, at the same time as Mrs. Yukimura asks, “The nogitsune?”

Stiles holds up a hand. “One at a time, please. That was—a lot.”

Mrs. Yukimura inclines her head in his dad’s direction, and Noah raises his eyebrows. “What the hell was that, Stiles?”

“That was the Nemeton,” Stiles replies. “And she apparently needs no other name.”

Moira hums. “No, I don’t imagine she does. Nemeton is as much of a name as Yggdrasil.”

“And the nogitsune?” Mrs. Yukimura presses.

“Not here anymore,” Stiles replies, “and it’s been weakened. I suggested that it go feed itself on the tears of a dictator, and it said it would think about it.”

Mrs. Yukimura frowns. “You didn’t destroy it or trap it?”

“The first law of thermodynamics is that energy can neither be created nor destroyed, and trapping it here means retaining the taint in the ley lines,” Stiles replies, glancing at Moira.

Moira grimaces, but she nods. “Stiles is correct. Destroying a spirit of vengeance is no small undertaking, and Stiles has been charged with cleansing the Nemeton.”

Stiles shrugs. “No offense, but you didn’t conjure the nogitsune out of thin air. You called, and it answered. It would have been off terrorizing other people for the last 70 years if you hadn’t trapped it.”

“There are a lot of things that go bump in the night,” Noah says wearily. “And speaking as a law enforcement officer, sometimes, you just have to get comfortable with the fact that you’re not going to catch every bad guy.”

“But my dad?” Scott asks, piping up from the sidelines.

Stiles looks to Noelani, who shrugs eloquently. “He may have some after effects from the medication we gave him, but the bigger question is how he’s going to explain his actions here without getting into more trouble.”

“And how he’s going to respond to me being a werewolf,” Scott mutters.

Stiles frowns, drumming his fingers on his leg. “He might not have to know.”

Dave raises an eyebrow. “What are you thinking, Stiles?”

“Well, he came over here to raise holy hell, didn’t he?” Stiles asks. “If he remembers that much, what would he expect to happen?”

His dad starts to smile. “He’d expect to get laid out flat.”

“Even if his memories aren’t completely clear, Scott sent that text message,” Stiles points out. “He was nearly arrested recently. He might chalk the whole thing up to a regrettable incident where he drank too much, pissed off his son too much, and then nearly did something unforgivable. He might be so grateful not to be arrested or reported to his superiors at the FBI that he won’t ask too many questions.

“So, maybe we let him make assumptions, and we just don’t correct them,” Stiles adds with a shrug. “And if and when he demonstrates that he’s worthy of our trust, we can tell him the truth.”

Mrs. Yukimura is staring at him, shaking her head. “Are you sure you’re not a fox, Stiles?”

“Pretty sure, yeah,” Stiles says, but he grins. “But I think that means he has to wake up here without a crowd.” He pauses. “Well, not here here, but on the couch, anyway.”

Noah nods. “We’ll play it that way for now. Derek, Dave—“

“We’ll get him settled on the couch,” Dave says. “I’ll stick around with Derek. It would make sense that you’d call in a couple of deputies to deal with this mess.”

Noah nods. “Good enough.”

Stiles looks at Moira. “Do you want to stick around?”

“I think I might head over to Nolani’s for a nightcap, young spark,” Moira replies, accepting Stiles hand once he stands up.

Danny does the same for Noelani, and she accepts with a laugh. “Thank you, my boy.”

Stiles busses Moira’s cheek. “Thanks.”

“You did very well tonight,” she says softly. “You are growing in leaps and bounds, mo chroi.”

“Thanks to you and the pack,” Stiles counters.

She pats his cheek. “Get some rest tonight.”

“I’ll try,” Stiles replies. “Maybe the Nemeton will actually give me an assist.”

“One can live in hope,” Moira replies.

“We should get together for some lacrosse practice soon,” Danny says.

Stiles finds that the idea of just shooting the ball with his friends doesn’t bother him.

Dave and Derek get McCall settled on the couch in the living room, and the rest of the coven, including Moira, take their leave.

Stiles stands next to his dad in the living room, and asks, “How do you want to play this, Dad?”

“Oh, so you’re letting me take charge of it now?” his dad asks, but there’s a twinkle in his eye.

Stiles shrugs. “It’s not like he’s going to listen to me.”

Noah rolls his eyes and ruffles Stiles’ hair. “Take Dave, Derek, and the dogs into the kitchen and hang out there. If we need you, we’ll holler.”

Stiles retrieves the dogs, and they go into the kitchen, standing around the counter. “Does anybody want a snack? Because I’m craving something sweet.”

Derek wordlessly goes into the freezer and takes out a plastic container. “Moira mentioned leaving this. She thought you might want it.”

Stiles knows exactly what’s in that container. “Peanut butter?”

“She made some for the dogs, too,” Derek adds, and removes a smaller plastic bag from the container.

Stiles glances at Dave. “Can I?”

“One each,” Dave says. “But only if you’re sharing.”

Derek puts the container on the counter, and Stiles tosses one of Moira’s special dog cookies to each of the dogs, who happily munch them down, even as the humans enjoy their own share.

Dave tilts his head. “McCall is waking up.”

“Show time, then,” Stiles says. “Better save at least a few of those for Dad and Scott, Derek. Scott’s had a very trying evening.”

Derek puts the lid back on the container, and Stiles whispers, “Can you hear anything?”

“Confusion and complaints about his head hurting,” Dave murmurs. “And he isn’t sure how he got here.”

“Did you know that Scott could cry on cue?” Derek asks in a low voice. “Because he’s telling his dad that he was scared of him.”

Stiles grins slowly. “Atta boy, Scotty.”

“Now McCall is trying to appease him, while not acknowledging what he did, probably because he doesn’t remember, but—damn. Noah is threatening to report him to OPR,” Dave says.

Stiles frowns. “Isn’t that the internal affairs division of the FBI?”

Dave nods. “Office of Professional Responsibility, and he’d probably face some serious consequences if your dad did that.”

Stiles winces, knowing that not everything had been completely McCall’s fault, although it’s hard to say how much of it had been the nogitsune. “It’s not all his fault.”

“And about the only person who might be able to explain that is Agent Marsh,” Derek points out in an undertone. “Besides, this gives Scott leverage over his dad so he can establish the relationship on his own terms—if he chooses to do so.”

Stiles strongly suspects that Scott is eventually going to forgive his dad unless his dad makes a move against the pack. “Good bet,” Stiles says.

“He does seem the forgiving sort,” Dave murmurs. “McCall is backing off. He’s asking Scott what kind of relationship he wants, and how much time he wants to spend with him.”

“Oh, look, he’s finally asking the right questions,” Stiles snorts.

Derek smirks. “Amazing what can happen if you figure out what questions to ask.”

“Or if you actually ask someone’s opinion instead of forcing your own on them,” Stiles replies.

Dave clears his throat. “I think it’s breaking up now.”

Stiles can hear the front door open, but Scott joins them in the kitchen, giving the container of cookies a look. “I hope you saved some for me.”

“‘course we did,” Stiles says easily.

Cocoa shoves her nose into Scott’s hand, and he drops to the floor and hugs her, burying his face in her fur, cookies apparently forgotten for the moment.

“You okay?” Stiles asks gently.

“Dad agreed that I could select where and when we would spend time together,” Scott says, his voice muffled. Nibs moves to press up against Scott’s back. “I said I needed a few weeks, because he kind of freaked me out. He agreed to wait for me to text him.”

Noah comes into the kitchen. He’s apparently taken a detour to put away his gun belt, and now he takes a moment to ruffle Scott’s hair. “You did really well tonight, Scott. You kept your cool, and you kept the pack safe.”

Scott looks up, a pleased flush on his face. “Really?”

“Really,” Noah replies, and grabs a cookie.

Scott gives Stiles puppy eyes, and Stiles hands him a cookie so he doesn’t have to get off the floor, or stop petting the dogs.

“Thanks, dude,” Scott says through a full mouth, shoving half of it in his mouth at once.

“We can still report your dad to OPR if he doesn’t play ball,” Noah says. “But if he keeps his word, we’ll keep it quiet.”

Scott nods. “I understand, and I agree. It wouldn’t be fair to get him into trouble for something he wasn’t totally in control of.”

Noah smiles. “Good. Let’s talk about how things are going to go tomorrow. Derek, are you going to attend the hearing?”

Stiles glances at Derek, but Derek shakes his head decisively. “My presence would just be a distraction. If Kate ever faces justice for the murders she committed, I’ll be there.”

Noah glances at Scott, who shakes his head. “Not unless you really want me there, Stiles. I don’t want to miss school.”

“No, man,” Stiles says easily. “Just make sure everyone takes notes for me, okay?”

Scott nods eagerly. “Done. Can I have another cookie?”

Stiles hands him another.

“It’s going to be an early day tomorrow, son,” Noah says. “I need to call Mel and let her know the coast is clear.”

Derek has been tapping away on his phone. “I already let the rest of the pack know that we’re good.”

“Good, thank you,” Noah replies. “Don’t stay up too late.”

Stiles turns pleading eyes to Dave, and Dave chuckles. “Yeah, okay. Cocoa and Nibs can spend the night here.”

“I’ll bring them by first thing in the morning,” Derek promises.

Dave claps him on the shoulder. “Thanks, Derek. Stiles, as always, you are magical.”

“Maybe that will be my next tattoo,” Stiles jokes.

“Not until you’re 18!” His dad’s voice floats through the house. “That was a one-time deal!”

Stiles laughs. “You got it, Pops.” He doesn’t yell, because he knows his dad will be able to hear him easily.

“I should get going, since I’m covering for Tara tomorrow,” Dave says. “I think Parrish is going with you guys, just for the extra protection.”

“I know Moira will be there, too,” Stiles says.

Dave laughs. “Well, she’s basically a whole platoon of commandos unto herself.”

“I should get to bed,” Derek says. “You guys going to stay down here?”

Stiles glances at Scott, who nods. “It’s a little crowded with all three dogs in the bed,” Stiles adds.

Derek sees Dave out and then heads upstairs, and Stiles and Scott go to the living room. Batman immediately climbs into Stiles’ lap, but Cocoa and Nibs lie down on either side of Scott, a head resting on each of his thighs so he can scratch both sets of ears at once.

“How are you really?” Stiles asks.

“I’m really glad you saved my dad,” Scott replies. “I know you didn’t do it just for me, but still.”

“I didn’t not do it just for you,” Stiles counters. “I’ve lost a parent.”

Scott sighs noisily. “I—I know Mom kicked him out because he hurt me. I don’t really remember it, but I know.”

Stiles thinks about that, and he finally says, “I want to believe that we all have the ability to be better than our worst moments.”

“That’s almost poetic,” Scott says.

Stiles grins at him. “I think Moira said something like that once.”

“Are you nervous about the sentencing tomorrow?” Scott asks. “Are you going to give a statement?”

“I haven’t decided,” Stiles admits. “I should probably have prepared something, but we’ve been a little busy.”

“You’re pretty good at off the cuff,” Scott offers. “You did good tonight, and that was at least half improvised.”

Stiles appreciates the faith that Scott has in him. “Thanks, Scotty.”

“Whatever you decide to say, I know it will be the right thing,” he adds.

Stiles hesitates, but then asks, “If Allison is there, do you want me to say anything to her?”

Scott shakes his head firmly. “No. That’s my past, not my future. I, uh, I think I might ask Kira to the Winter Formal.”

Stiles accepts the change of subject for what it is. If Scott doesn’t want to talk about Allison Argent, he’s not going to push it. “I think you should. She seems pretty awesome, and her parents are kind of great, too.”

“Her mom is a little scary,” Scott says. “But I think she at least likes me.”

Stiles gives him a look. “Probably more than she likes me.”

“You did get rid of the nogitsune,” Scott points out.

“I’m not sure that’s a point in my favor,” Stiles says. “But, hey, I’m not the one trying to date her daughter.”

Scott gives him a look. “What about you, Stiles?”

“Still too busy,” Stiles says.

“Lydia seems to be coming around,” Scott says, probably meaning to sound encouraging.

Stiles doesn’t want to think about Lydia Martin and any potential relationship. But he has to admit that he’d be feeling more hopeful about it if he allowed himself.

“Maybe,” Stiles finally says. “I’m not getting my hopes up, though.

“I can be hopeful enough for the both of us,” Scott says confidently. “Because if Lydia Martin can’t see how awesome you are, then she’s not nearly as smart as she keeps telling us she is.”

Stiles offers a fist bump, which Scott returns, and Stiles thinks that it’s just like old times—before werewolves, before Allison Argent, before magic, when it had just felt like him and Scott against the world.

Like old times, but also better, because they have the whole pack, too.

~~~~~

Derek wonders if the pack will ever get too used to Stiles and Moira pulling rabbits out of their hats. They’ve been able to stop a demon, a darach, and now a vengeance spirit—maybe not easily, but certainly with panache.

He just hopes they don’t put too much on them in the future.

Derek wakes up Monday morning and rolls out of bed, feeling a rolling contentment going through the pack bonds. He’s pretty sure that’s why he’d slept so well the night before, because he can almost taste the happiness.

Derek grabs a quick shower and pulls on his uniform. Stiles, Scott, and Noah are already up and in the kitchen, Scott and Stiles appearing bleary, with dark circles under their eyes.

The dogs are all happily munching from their respective dishes, and Noah pours Derek a travel mug of coffee as he enters.

“Report to Mark today,” Noah tells him. “He’s in charge while I’m in court.”

Derek nods. “Got it. I’ll drop Cocoa and Nibs off on my way to the station.”

As though his words had summoned someone, the doorbell rings.

“I’ve got it,” Noah says, going to answer the door. Derek can hear him say, “Hey, Paul. Is something up?”

“Figured I’d save Derek the trip,” Paul says. “And check on things. How are you doing, Stiles?” he asks as he follows Noah back to the kitchen. “Nervous?”

Stiles shrugs. “I’m honestly too tired to be nervous at this point.”

Paul gives him a concerned look. “Dave said things went better than expected last night.”

Stiles’ expression is sheepish. “Scott and I might have stayed up too late talking. But hey! I’m not nervous?”

Noah shakes his head, but he looks more fond than annoyed, and Derek knows he can probably feel the thrum of connection between Stiles and Scott.

Derek is pretty sure the whole pack can feel it, and that’s a good thing. It will keep everyone calm today.

Paul just laughs. “Remember that you have the whole pack behind you, Stiles. And that Kate Argent blinked first.”

Stiles’ grin is blinding. “Thanks, Paul.”

“You two finished eating?” Paul asks, addressing the dogs.

All three are licking their dishes free of crumbs at this point, but while Nibs keeps his head down to keep licking his dish, Cocoa looks up with a whine.

“Batman is working today,” Paul says, not unkindly. “So, no, you can’t stay here.”

Nibs looks up, adding his own whine.

“Oh, my god, how do you stand it?” Stiles jokes.

Paul flashes golden eyes. “Like that.”

The dogs drop their heads in submission and join Paul as he gestures. “Good luck today, Stiles.”

“Thanks,” Stiles replies.

“Better go get cleaned up, kiddo,” Noah says.

Stiles nods. “See you tonight, Scotty?”

“I’ll stop by after cross country,” Scott promises.

Derek walks out with Scott. “You need a ride?”

Scott jerks his chin to the right, where his bike is parked. “No, I’ve got it, but thanks. And—thanks for last night, Derek.”

“We’re pack,” Derek says simply.

Derek drives his Camaro to the station and parks around back. Mark greets him as he comes inside. “We’re on patrol together today, Hale. Parrish is on his way to the sheriff’s house for added security.”

Derek nods. “Got it. I probably could have gone with the sheriff and Stiles, but—“

“Not necessary,” Mark says. “Besides, the Argents will be there, and your presence would be like waving a red cape in front of a bull. They don’t know Parrish, so he’s just going to look like another deputy.”

Derek feels a little bit of relief at that absolution. His instinct had been to avoid the Argents to prevent them from looking too deeply at Noah, and he’s glad that Mark—probably the most experienced deputy—agrees.

“Don’t worry about it so much, Hale,” Mark says kindly. “You’ll have another opportunity to watch their backs. There’s plenty of trouble to go around in this county.”

Derek is beginning to get used to the rhythm of the station, even if he hasn’t been on the job long. They check the reports that have come in overnight, but it had been pretty quiet.

The nogitsune is gone, and there aren’t any additional threats that Derek knows of. Well, there will always be threats, but at least it’s calm right now.

There are a couple of reports they need to follow up on, including re-interviewing the victims of a home break-in. Mark takes the lead on that one, soothing the nerves of the elderly couple who’d been burgled.

“Of course, we’ll do everything we can to catch them,” Mark says. “We got some really good prints, and we’re working with the state crime lab to see if they match anyone already in the system. I was just wondering if you’d noticed anything else missing that we might be able to trace to a pawn shop, or one of the fences here in town.”

Mrs. Everly frets over the fake pearl earrings that had gone missing, which aren’t worth much, but had belonged to her mother. Mr. Everly reports that the Purple Heart he won in Vietnam has disappeared.

“I just don’t understand why anyone would want that,” Mr. Everly says. “Any wounded soldier or sailor gets one.”

“Some people just see something shiny and grab it,” Mark says quietly. “Like magpies.”

Derek gets an idea. The house smells strongly of talcum powder and lilacs, but he suspects that Mr. Everly might have kept his medal in a private location frequented mostly by himself. “Would you show me where you kept your Purple Heart, sir?”

Mark doesn’t bat an eyelash. “Deputy Hale is new to the force, but he’s got a good eye for things other people miss.”

Mr. Everly reaches for his cane. “Sure, young man. I don’t mind.”

Mark continues to draw Mrs. Everly out, and Derek follows Mr. Everly’s limping steps down the hall towards the back of the house.

“Did you serve, young man?” Mr. Everly asks.

“No, sir,” Derek replies. “I—well, I stumbled into this line of work when Sheriff Stilinski took me under his wing.”

Mr. Everly grunts. “You’re one of the Hales, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I knew your mom slightly, and your dad,” Mr. Everly replies. “They were good people. And you’re serving the community now. They’d be proud.”

Derek takes a deep breath. He keeps hearing that, and every time he hears it, he believes it just a little bit more. “Thanks.”

“Survivor’s guilt will kill you, Deputy,” Mr. Everly says with a knowing look. “My Doris made me go to therapy for it.”

Derek barks a laugh. “So did the sheriff.”

“I knew I voted for him for a reason,” Mr. Everly replies. “Here we are.”

As Derek had expected, the small bedroom has clearly been repurposed as a study, or a man cave, and scent is faintly reminiscent of Old Spice and another smell that Derek has sadly become very familiar with.

Axe body spray. So, probably teenagers.

Derek inspects the wooden box that had held Mr. Everly’s medal, and he doesn’t see anything new. Another item catches his eye, though, and he leans closer to the photograph of what he assumes is Mr. Everly’s unit in Vietnam.

“Is this you?” Derek asks.

Mr. Everly smiles nostalgically. “I was part of the 101st. ‘Course, a lot of people were and are, but it has a storied past.”

“You saw a lot,” Derek comments.

“I think you have, too,” Mr. Everly says. “I don’t care about my medal so much, but it would mean a lot to me if you could recover my wife’s earrings. Maybe they’re not worth much, but—“

“I can think of a few things belonging to my parents that I’d give my right arm to recover,” Derek says quietly. “And none of them would be worth more than a few cents.”

Mr. Everly smiles. “Think I’ll keep voting for Sheriff Stilinski. He seems to have an eye for people. Stop by sometime, young man. I’ll spin some stories.”

Derek smiles. “I think I’d like that.”

Mr. Everly leads him back to the living room, where Mrs. Everly is still bending Mark’s ear.

Mark glances up with a slightly lifted eyebrow, and Derek gives him a small nod. “I hate to cut this short, Mrs. Everly, but we have some bad guys to catch,” Mark says. “I appreciate you speaking with us today.”

Derek shakes Mr. Everly’s gnarled hand. “Thank you for your service.”

“And I thank you both,” he replies. “Even if you don’t catch them, I appreciate you trying.”

Maybe Derek had mostly gone into law enforcement because it seemed like a decent option where he could make a difference, but he’d been thinking about werewolves and protecting the pack. He hadn’t really been thinking about people like the Everlys, who just wanted a family heirloom returned.

Derek finds that he really wants to recover those earrings.

“Did you get anything?” Mark asks as they go back to the cruiser.

“Axe body spray,” Derek replies. “I’m thinking teenagers.”

“Fucking magpies,” Mark mutters. “Yeah, that makes sense. I know a guy who might know something.”

“You know who might rob an elderly couple?” Derek asks.

Mark nods. “A couple ne’er-do-wells who like to smoke weed and fund their habit with petty crime. My nose isn’t as sensitive as yours, but I do know they stink. I thought it was weed, but they could be masking it with body spray.”

Derek frowns. “It’s not like they trained us on the smell of weed in our courses, but I’ve definitely smelled Axe.”

“You would,” Mark says with a snort. “Once we get to the station, I’ll take you back to the evidence locker, and you can sniff the drugs. I can’t believe I hadn’t thought of that. We can’t use that in court, but it could give us a direction.”

Derek has no problem with that. “Whatever I can do to help.”

“Ah, here we are,” Mark says as he pulls up in front of the house. “One of our local weed dealers. He won’t actually come to the cops, but he’ll usually answer our questions when we shake him down. Do me a favor, and look menacing.”

Derek frowns at him.

Mark smirks. “Mission accomplished.”

“Tara did say something about murder brows,” Derek admits.

“Oh, kid, yours are a lethal weapon, and that’s only to your advantage,” Mark says fondly. “All right, show time.”

Derek puts on his glower.

“Perfect.”

Mark leads the way to the front door of a small, unkempt house, and he knocks loudly. “I know you’re in there, Carson!”

The door opens, and a woman who’s probably Mark’s age. “It’s you again. What has my asshole son done now?”

“Probably nothing,” Mark admits. “But he might have talked to some teenagers who robbed an elderly couple.”

The woman shakes her head. “Yeah, I know who you’re talking about. I’ll call him up, but I have something for you. I’d hoped… Ah, never mind.”

She walks away, leaving the door open behind her, and Derek follows Mark inside. “Carson!” the woman shouts. “Get your ass up here!”

Derek shares a look with Mark, who just shrugs.

“What, Ma?” comes the shouted question.

“Deputy Rossi is here about those little assholes who were here the day before yesterday!” she calls back.

Derek hears the other person say, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, how the fuck.”

Only his sharpened senses allow him to hear that, but he murmurs, “I think we’re on the right track.”

“Is he trying to do a runner?” Mark asks quietly.

Derek shakes his head. “No, just reluctant. I can hear him dragging his feet, quite literally.”

The woman emerges from the back of the house with something that has been wrapped in tissue paper. “My son gave these to me. I hoped he was doing something thoughtful, but I’m guessing it wasn’t that.”

Mark nods, and Derek takes the small package, unfolding the tissue paper to reveal a pair of pearl earrings. He doesn’t know much about jewelry, but he can see immediately that they’re old, and not real pearls.

“Mrs. Everly’s earrings,” Derek says.

“We’ll have to take these, Mrs. Adams,” Mark says gently. “I’m sorry.”

She just shakes her head. “He has my phone number for when he needs bail.”

A young man emerges from what Derek assumes is the basement. He’s probably in his early 20’s, with shaggy brown hair, wearing baggy pants and an oversized hoodie, hands buried deep in the front pocket.

“Carson,” Mark says. “We know you’re in possession of stolen property. You want to talk about this here or down at the station?”

Carson ducks his head and shuffles his feet. “I didn’t know it was stolen.”

“Sure you didn’t,” Mark says dryly. “I’ll tell you what, if you can produce the Purple Heart and the names of the kids who gave you that and the earrings, we’ll let it go in exchange for your testimony.”

Carson withdraws something from the front pocket of his hoodie and hands it over. It’s a well-worn Purple Heart medal.

“Let’s go sit in the kitchen,” Mark says. “And we can talk about what you know.”

“Do you want coffee?” Mrs. Adams asks. “I can put a pot on.”

“That would be lovely,” Mark replies. “Thank you.”

“Since you’re saving my son from another charge, it’s the least I can do,” she says.

Carson drags his feet on the way to the kitchen, too. “They just wanted weed,” he finally says once they’re seated at the kitchen table, and Mrs. Adams is bustling around to get the coffee ready.

“You didn’t take those earrings and the medal as payment,” Mark counters. “What else did they take?”

“A VCR, a stereo, and a laptop,” Carson admits. “I haven’t taken them to the pawn shop yet.”

“I need names,” Mark says firmly.

Carson sighs. “Trent Olson and Skylar Brentwood.”

“Some of your best customers?” Mark asks.

Carson nods reluctantly. “Yeah, that’s why I let them have the stuff before I pawned them.”

Mrs. Adams clicks her tongue in disapproval. “Told you that would get you in trouble. I still don’t understand why you can’t just go to college, get a real job.”

“I have a real job,” Carson mutters.

“Working at a gas station isn’t a future, and neither is dealing weed,” Mrs. Adams snaps.

Mark just raises his eyebrows. Derek hides a smile behind his hand. Carson stares down at the table with a sullen expression.

“You know,” Derek says. “I’ve been going to Sonoma University. They have a great online program. You can take a class at a time, get your feet wet, see what you find interesting.”

Carson scoffs. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“You liked that medal, didn’t you?” Derek asks. “You thought it was interesting. Do you like history?”

Carson shrugs, but Derek can see a spark in his eye.

“So, maybe you take a history class, see how that fits you,” Derek says. “Just one class. Make your mom happy.”

“Maybe I’ll think about it,” Carson says reluctantly.

“I took American History 301 from Professor Jameson,” Derek says. “I know he teaches a 101 course, and he makes class really interesting.”

Carson snorts, but there’s that spark of interest again.

“I think I like this one,” Mrs. Adams says, patting Derek’s shoulder as she puts a mug of coffee in front of him. She brings Mark’s coffee next, and Derek sees her approving nod in his direction.

“Tell us a little more about Trent and Skylar,” Mark urges.

Carson sighs, and starts talking about the two teenagers who have been engaged in petty crime in order to fund their growing weed habit. Carson is a small-time dealer, mostly just selling to his friends and a few acquaintances, but Derek starts to understand why Mark might want to leave him in place.

As a small-time dealer, Carson can inform on the people supplying him, as well as the people he sells to.

Once they have as many details as they need to draft the arrest warrants, Mark writes Carson a citation for receiving stolen property, and they collect the rest of the stolen goods.

“You’ll have to show up for your court date if you don’t want a bench warrant sworn out against you,” Mark warns him.

Mrs. Adams clicks her tongue. “He’ll show up.”

As much as Derek would like to have returned the stolen property to the Everlys, particularly the earrings and the medal, he knows they have to go into evidence until the resolution of the case.

They go back to the station, log the evidence, write up their reports, and write up the warrants. In spite of the tedium of some of the tasks, Derek is pleased with their success.

They’d solved a burglary, and they’re going to be able to return stolen property to a nice, older couple. Even writing up the reports, and filling out the evidence logs feels satisfying.

“Let’s get these warrants signed, and then Cindy can pick up Skylar and we’ll grab Trent,” Mark says.

Derek makes sure his reports are saved and submitted before locking his computer.

Mark claps him on the shoulder. “You have a real knack for this work, you know?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t say this, but it’s kind of fun,” Derek admits.

“Nothing wrong with enjoying what you do,” Mark says with a grin. “That will carry you through the more difficult times. Just remember that.”

At the end of the day, they’ve solved a crime and arrested two suspects, and Derek checks his phone for messages as he gets off shift. There’s just one text from Stiles: chkn 2nite!

Chicken means a celebration, so Derek assumes that the sentencing went well, or at least according to plan. Not that Derek minds fried chicken—Lu makes the best he’s had.

And tonight, there seem to be things worth celebrating.

~~~~~

Noah isn’t attending the sentencing in an official capacity, but rather as the father of the victim, so he puts on a suit and tie. Stiles has also cleaned up, and is wearing the charcoal suit and tie he’d worn to Heather’s funeral, with Batman in his vest, ready to go.

“Looking good, kiddo,” Noah says. “You ready for this?”

Stiles shrugs. “I guess. I’m glad that my part will be over.”

Noah squeezes his shoulder. “Same. I just hope that the feds do their job and get her for the murders.”

The FBI is the agency best suited for a multi-state investigation, even if they’ll be assisting. The Beacon County Sheriff’s Office is going to have their hands full with the investigation into Eichen House, with the representative from the state police arriving tomorrow since Noah has the sentencing today.

In some ways, the sentencing is like hitting pause before they embark on the next big thing. With the nogitsune banished, Noah is hopeful that they can just focus on the investigation into Eichen House.

Hopeful, but he’s not holding his breath either. It’s Beacon Hills, after all.

After her escape attempt, Kate Argent has been held in solitary confinement in county lockup. Noah knows that the FBI is working on bringing federal charges, but nothing has been formalized yet, which means county is the place for her.

He and Stiles climb the stairs to the courthouse together, and Amber Steinhauser meets them. Noah is familiar with her from other cases they’ve had together, and she gives him a tight smile. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Sheriff Stilinski.”

“And you,” Noah replies.

Her smile for Stiles is warmer. “How are you, Stiles? Are you planning on making a statement today?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Stiles admits. “It’s not really going to make a difference in the sentencing, is it?”

She shakes her head with a sympathetic smile. “No, but it might make you feel better, having confronted her. It’s up to you, of course. Sheriff? Were you planning on making a statement?”

Noah shakes his head. “No. I have nothing to say to that woman.”

There’s a lot Noah could say, but none of it would suit the decorum required in a court of law.

Amber’s small smile suggests that she knows what he’s thinking. “Come on. Mr. Brogan sent me to guide you to the right courtroom.”

Noah notices Stiles’ hand straying to Batman’s ears for comfort, and he rests a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. He follows Amber up the stairs to one of the courtrooms where he’s given testimony many times before.

Amber points them to the prosecution’s side, and he and Stiles sit on a wooden bench just behind Brogan and Amber.

Brogan turns in his seat, giving Stiles a sharp look. “You doing all right, Stiles?”

Stiles nods. “Do you know why she agreed to the plea deal?”

Brogan’s eyes stray to the other side of the room, where Noah sees Allison sitting next to Chris Argent. There’s no sign of Mrs. Argent. “She might be a psychopath, but I think she has a fondness for her niece.”

Just then, Moira slides onto the bench on Stiles’ other side. “Sorry I’m late.” She pats Stiles’ hand.

“We were just discussing why Kate might have taken the plea,” Stiles whispers.

“The Argents are a matriarchal family, and this frees Allison up faster,” Moira replies. When Brogan raises his eyebrows, Moira adds, “You don’t have to accept that to realize that they believe it to be true.”

“Talk about a dysfunctional family,” Brogan mutters.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Stiles says.

The bailiff calls the court to order, bidding them all rise for the Honorable Judge Wilson. Noah stands, keeping a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. He can feel a minute tremble; no matter what kind of a brave face his kid puts on, Noah knows this is stressful for him.

“Please be seated,” Judge Wilson says, somber in her dark robes. “Deputy Green, what’s the first order of business?”

Noah has been in Judge Wilson’s courtroom often enough to know that she knows exactly what’s on the docket, but it’s a ritual.

“Change of plea in the matter of People v. Katherine Argent,” Deputy Green replies.

“All right,” Judge Wilson says. “Bring in the defendant.”

Kate Argent is wearing an orange jumpsuit. Since she’s changing her plea to guilty, she hasn’t been allowed to change into civilian clothing. Her hands are shackled to a waste chain, which is attached to the shackles around her ankles.

That’s what a violent escape attempt will get you.

Kate doesn’t so much as glance in their direction, and she doesn’t look at her brother or her niece either. Her expression remains hard and defiant, though.

“That’s not her original lawyer,” Stiles whispers.

“My guess is that Chris Argent is holding the purse strings now,” Noah whispers back as quietly as possible. He knows better than to disrupt the proceedings.

Judge Wilson looks up at Kate’s defense lawyer. “Ms. Carpenter, I understand that your client wishes to change her plea.”

“Yes, your honor,” the young woman replies.

“And Mr. Brogan, is the State satisfied?”

“We are, Your Honor,” Mr. Brogan says.

“Ms. Argent, are you changing your plea knowingly, willingly, and voluntarily?” Judge Wilson asks.

She scowls. “I am, Your Honor.”

“And you understand that once you enter a guilty plea, you cannot change it?” Judge Wilson continues.

“I do,” Kate replies, almost spitting out the words.

“You understand that you’re pleading guilty to kidnapping with a possible penalty of up to eight years in prison, with four years for assault?” Judge Wilson asks.

“I do,” Kate replies.

“If the State would read the charging document, please,” Judge Wilson says.

Brogan reads the amended charges that Kate is pleading guilty to, since they no longer include aggravated assault, torture, escape, or the weapons charges that had been tacked on.

Noah doesn’t pay much attention, since he knows exactly what she did. Instead, he watches Chris Argent’s face, which might have been carved from stone, and Allison, who looks visibly pained. Whether that’s because she truly regrets Kate’s actions, regrets her own, or some other reason entirely, Noah has no idea.

He doesn’t know Allison well enough to tell.

“And is it still your intention to plead guilty to the charges as they were read?” Judge Wilson asks.

Kate nods tightly. “Yes, Your Honor.”

Noah is honestly surprised that she’s managed to keep her decorum, but he assumes there’s been some pressure applied, either by her attorney or by Chris. Given that she’s being offered eight to twelve years, when the maximum had been twenty-five, maybe she’s acting out of self-preservation.

After all, her dad isn’t around to break her out of prison anymore.

“The court accepts the plea of guilty,” Judge Wilson says. “I have reviewed the agreement between the State and the defendant, and I find that the maximum sentence of eight years for kidnapping is appropriate, with the four years for assault to be served concurrently, given the defendant’s clean record. However, the court will offer an opportunity for victim impact statements.”

Amber glances over her shoulder to look at Stiles, and his jaw tightens. Noah feels his trembling, and makes a mental note to make sure Stiles has a therapy appointment this week.

Stiles hesitates, but eventually shakes his head, scratching Batman’s ears, clearly needing the comfort.

To Noah’s surprise, Allison clears her throat.

Amber stands. “Allison Argent has expressed a desire to speak to the court.”

Judge Wilson’s eyebrows go up, but she waves Allison up to the podium set up between the defense and prosecution tables.

Allison has a folded piece of paper that she smoothes out on the podium with shaking hands. “Kate, you were someone I looked up to, like more of a sister than an aunt. I thought I could trust you, that you would protect me, but instead you led me down a dark road. I know my actions were my own, and I’ve taken responsibility for the hurt I caused, but in spite of the guilty plea today, I know you haven’t.”

She takes a deep, audible breath. “I’m going to spend the rest of my life making up for the damage that you caused. I’m making that my life’s mission.”

Allison turns to look at Stiles as she says that, and Stiles nods.

“Thank you for the opportunity to address the court,” Allison adds, and then makes her way back to her seat.

“The defendant is remanded to the custody of the State of California to serve out her term,” Judge Wilson says, ending the proceedings.

There’s a natural break before the next hearing, and so they shuffle out of the courtroom. Chris Argent manages to reach the doors just ahead of them, and then he stops in the hallway, clearly meaning to have a word with Noah. Allison, meanwhile, is looking right at Stiles.

“Go on,” Noah says to his son and Moira. “You make the call.”

Stiles shrugs. “I don’t mind talking with her.”

He and Allison move a little ways off down the hall, with Moira drifting over to them, whereas Noah steps to the side of the doors with Chris Argent.

“I’m sorry about your father,” Noah says to break the ice.

Chris snorts. “No, you’re not.”

“My old man was a son of a bitch,” Noah says. “Doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt when he died.”

Chris’ expression softens. “Yeah, that about covers it.”

“What did you want to talk to me about?” Noah finally asks when the silence hangs heavy between them.

Chris sighs. “I’m sure you know the Argents are matriarchal. With Kate in prison, Allison is the head of the family.”

“I gathered as much,” Noah admits.

“Allison’s motto is that we hunt those who hunt others,” Chris says. “I twisted Kate’s arm to take the plea so Allison wouldn’t have to testify, and she’d be able to start her life sooner.”

Noah nods. “Makes sense.”

“Kate didn’t know—until today—that Allison is taking the Argents in the opposite direction that she and Gerard planned to go,” Chris admits. “There might be problems. Allison is aware, but I thought you should be, too. The word is out that the Sheriff of Beacon Hills has been able to quell a rogue Alpha, a demon, the Alpha pack, and a darach. The Argents will leave you alone, unless you have need of us, but there are going to be interested parties.”

Noah takes a deep breath. “Other hunter families, I assume.”

Chris nods. “We won’t be returning to Beacon Hills, but if you need us…” He hands Noah a business card for Argent Arms that has two phone numbers scrawled on the back. “My personal cell and Allison’s. Just in case.”

“I appreciate the warning,” Noah admits. “Thanks.”

“It’s the least I could do,” Chris says. “In a way, I’m—well, that sounds selfish.”

“You’re glad for what happened?” Noah asks. “I can’t say I don’t agree.”

His smile is fleeting but real, warming his cold, blue eyes. “I should have known you might feel the same. You know, Sheriff, in another life we might have been friends.”

Noah raises his eyebrows. “Who knows? In this life, we might yet be.”

He tunes in to the conversation that Stiles is having with Allison, just as she’s saying, “Yeah, I don’t know that we’ll stick around once everything is settled, but if you need us, we’ll come, Stiles. The other hunting families—“

“Don’t know who they’re messing with,” Stiles says smoothly. “I appreciate that.”

That’s really the only part of the conversation that Noah can overhear, and then Allison and her dad leave together, leaving Noah with Stiles and Moira—and Batman, of course.

“I think we should go visit the Nemeton,” Stiles says suddenly.

Noah frowns. “Don’t you think you’d better change out of your suit first?”

Stiles shakes his head. “No, it can’t wait.”

Noah glances at Moira, who shrugs. She’s wearing a light gray skirt suit with a lavender blouse, but she seems content to allow Stiles to make the call.

“All right,” Noah says. “I guess we’ll swing by the Preserve on the way home.”

Noah knows where the Nemeton is in a general sense, and he parks at the trailhead nearest to it. Moira parks her red Prius next to them, and she has managed to procure a pair of hiking boots to wear with her suit.

“Always prepared, huh?” Noah asks her.

Moira gives him an impish smile. “That’s what my bag is for, Noah. I’m prepared for anything.”

Of course, Noah and Stiles don’t have a mysterious, bottomless bag, so they make the trek to the Nemeton in dress shoes, but Stiles doesn’t seem to notice. He’s clearly fixated on his destination, and they’re just along for the ride.

Noah’s feet are starting to hurt a bit, feeling pinched, when they emerge from the trees into the clearing that holds the Nemeton.

Stiles orders Batman to sit before he approaches it, resting a hand on the stump. Moira joins him, but she doesn’t touch it.

“Stiles?” Moira queries softly. “What are you sensing?”

“The Nemeton wanted me here to meet, well, meet its tree baby,” Stiles says, sounding a little confounded. “Wow, that sounded really weird coming out of my mouth.”

Stiles snaps his fingers, and Batman joins him. “Find the magic, Batman. The Nemeton isn’t being terribly helpful right now.”

To Noah’s surprise, Batman whuffs as if he knows exactly what Stiles is asking and puts his nose to the ground.

“He can sniff out magic?” Noah asks, unable to help himself.

Stiles shrugs. “I don’t know, but Batman seems to know a lot of things.”

Moira adds, “An animal that spends a lot of time with someone who’s magical often picks up skills you might not expect, like sniffing out magic.”

Batman sits and gives one sharp bark.

“Good job,” Stiles praises, kneeling next to a sapling that’s about twelve inches high. “This is it.”

“What does it mean?” Noah asks.

Stiles blows out a breath. “It means that we’re in a very delicate place, and I’m going to have to pour some energy into it if it’s gonna be strong enough for me to go away to school.”

There’s no wind, but the small sapling trembles. Noah knows he’s not imagining things, and Stiles says, “Don’t worry, I’m not going super far away. I’ll come back and visit as often as possible.” He glances at Noah with a grin. “I’m shooting for Stanford.”

Noah breathes a sigh of relief. “Sounds good to me, kiddo.”

Stiles brushes his fingers over a fragile leaf, and then sinks his fingers into the ground next to the sapling. Noah watches as it grows about four inches.

“That’s enough, young spark,” Moira says gently. “You can feed it, but no more than once a week. It will take more than that from you if it can. Trees aren’t great at understanding human limitations or lifespans.”

“I think if I can get it to my height, it can grow naturally without much help from me,” Stiles says thoughtfully. He stands and goes over to pat the stump of the original Nemeton. “Thanks for introducing me to your baby. I’m honored.”

Stiles pauses, and then his smile grows. “Yeah, of course. I’ll look after your baby, and you look after my pack. Square deal.”

Stiles straightens, and he grins at Noah. “So, Kate’s in prison for a while, the nogitsune has been banished, and the pack is strong. I say we celebrate with fried chicken.”

Noah would do just about anything for his kid, and he knows that today has been stressful. Fried chicken for dinner is a relatively small ask, all things considered.

“Sounds great,” Noah replies. “Just make sure Lu includes a couple of pies. Since we’re celebrating.”

Of course, there are still things they have to talk about, and on the drive home, Stiles says, “Sorry, I was distracted on the way here because of the Nemeton. What did Mr. Argent say to you?”

“There might be other hunters who get interested in Beacon Hills,” Noah admits. “Chris offered their help if we run into trouble.”

“How nice of him,” Stiles mutters, and then he sighs. “I do think Allison really meant it, though. I think she’s trying to make up for all the damage that Kate and her family did.”

“It’s not something I’m going to worry about,” Noah says. “And it’s not something I want you to worry about either. Right now, we’re going to focus on the win, right?”

“Yeah,” Stiles says with a quiet smile. He hesitates briefly. “Can I invite Lydia for dinner? I mean, she might not want to come, but—“

“Invite her,” Noah says. “And if she can’t come tonight, I’m sure there will be another occasion.”

Stiles nods. “Okay. Yeah. Is it wrong that I’m happy that Kate Argent is behind bars for the next few years at least?”

“Well, if you’re wrong, I’m never in the right,” Noah replies. “I always like seeing bad guys behind bars.”

“I love you, Dad,” Stiles says softly. “I mean, I love our pack, too, and I love everything that we’ve built, but I just really love…” Stiles trails off, sounding a bit choked up.

“Yeah, I really love you, too, Stiles,” Noah says, squeezing the back of his son’s neck.

They don’t say anything else until Noah is pulling up in front of the house. “I’ll text Derek about dinner,” Stiles says. “And the rest of the pack. Thanks, Dad.”

“Thank you, Stiles,” Noah replies. “I couldn’t do this without you, you know. I wouldn’t want to do this without you.”

Stiles’ smile is soft. “Yeah.”

It’s a moment of calm, but those never last in his house. Maybe the trauma had been mostly concentrated on Scott without it spreading to the rest of the pack, but they all knew about Kate Argent’s sentencing, and Noah knows they’d all felt Stiles’ anxiety through the pack bonds.

Noah changes into jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, and he’s sipping a beer when the rest of the pack starts filtering in. He’s not surprised when the kids immediately tackle Stiles in a huge puppy pile in the living room in a mass of flailing limbs and the sound of laughter, even from Malia.

That said, though, Noah waits until Malia separates herself from the pack before he approaches her. “How’s it going?”

Malia glances up at him, then away immediately, and Noah knows she’s still a bit feral. “It’s good. Easier with the pack.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Noah says. “Tell me if it gets hard, okay?”

Malia bumps his shoulder with her own. “I will. I like that you’re my Alpha.”

“I like that you’re in my pack, even if it means your dad’s a dick,” Noah says.

That actually pulls a smile out of her. “He was always kind of a dick, to be honest.”

Noah nods. “I can’t say that I’m surprised.”

Derek walks through the front door, and Stiles immediately gloms onto him. “Derek! Kate Argent is going to prison!”

Derek is still in uniform, but he grabs Stiles in a big hug. “Yeah, she is.”

Stiles pulls back. “Did you have a good day?”

“Yeah,” Derek replies. “Caught a couple of burglars, solved a crime, just the usual.”

Stiles offers a fist bump. “We have to get food. Lu loves us, so she’ll throw in extra pie.”

“Let me get changed,” Derek replies.

Stiles sidles up to Noah. “Lydia said she could come, but we’re going to pick her up on the way back here.”

“I’ll break out the Chinette,” Noah says dryly.

“Fancy,” Stiles jokes, but he hugs Noah. “See you shortly.”

The rest of the kids are sprawled in the living room, and Noah finds a free recliner. Moira walks through the front door, and she perches on the arm of the chair. “You’ve built a very strong pack, Noah, but I’m not surprised. You also built a really strong son.”

“Yeah, I did, didn’t I?” Noah says with a smile.

And he has no doubt that no matter what’s to come, they’re going to be just fine.

 

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