Reading Time: 140 Minutes

Title: A Gathering Storm
Series: What We Gain
Series Order: 3
Author: enigmaticblue
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Genre: Action Adventure, Drama, Family
Relationship(s): Gen
Content Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Author Note: Follows A Tempered Strength, with elements of S2 and S3, but very AU.
Word Count: 69,951
Summary: Noah knows better than most that choices have ripple effects. Taking the Argents off the board certainly qualifies, and they’re all going to feel it.
Artist: ringspells

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“The storm is out there and every one of us must eventually face the storm. When the storm comes, pray that it will shake you to your roots and break you wide-open. Being broken open by the storm is your only hope. When you are broken open you get to discover for the first time what is inside you. Some people will never get to see what is inside them; what beauty, what strength, what truth and love. They were never broken open by the storm. So, don’t run from your pain—run into your pain. Let life’s storm shatter you.” ~ Bryant McGill

Chapter 1

Noah pulls up in front of an old Victorian house on the outskirts of Santa Rosa, feeling more than a little relieved that the setting isn’t more medical in nature. He knows that Stiles still has some trauma around hospitals and doctors’ offices.

Of course, when Noah glances over at Stiles, he sees his son’s knee bouncing wildly. He puts a hand on Stiles’ leg and squeezes. “If you don’t like this guy, if it doesn’t work out, there are other names on Moira’s list, you know. We just go on to the next one.”

Stiles rubs his right hand against his jeans. “Yeah, I know. You said that before we got into the car.”

“Still holds true now,” Noah replies. “What’s really worrying you about this?”

“I don’t like talking about it.”

Noah doesn’t have to ask what “it” is. “There are other things you could talk about,” he offers. “Probably should talk about. I should have gotten you into therapy after your mom—“

“No,” Stiles says sharply. Then, more quietly, he repeats, “No. After Mom—I would have thought—I would have thought that you were worried about me being crazy.”

Noah moves his hand from Stiles’ leg to the back of his neck, squeezing tightly, almost like scruffing a pup. Stiles slumps slightly and leans towards Noah. “You aren’t crazy. And Moira is going to make sure you never have your magic corrupted, if that’s what caused it, okay? We’re tracing your mom’s family to see if there are any answers. We’re gathering as much information as we can. I know you do better with more data.”

Stiles nods. “Yeah, yeah, I do.”

“Okay, so we’ll keep gathering information,” Noah says. “We haven’t plumbed the depths of the Hales’ knowledge yet.”

“I’m leaving that to you, Daddio,” Stiles replies. “You’re the Derek whisperer.”

Noah snorts. “Yeah, well, I’ve dealt with enough kids out of their depths in a war zone to know how to handle them. Nothing special about it.”

“Like me?” Stiles asks.

“Yeah,” Noah replies. “Like you, although I never wanted you in a war zone, Stiles.”

“Not your fault,” Stiles replies. “Pretty much the exact opposite of your fault, actually. Maybe if I’d—“

“Stop.” Noah says it firmly, not allowing room for argument. “I can do things as the Alpha that I couldn’t as the sheriff. I’m not upset.”

Stiles nods. “We’re gonna be late.”

“Well, to be fair, your nerves are making us late, because we were here early,” Noah counters, teasing him gently.

Stiles snorts.

A man steps out on the front porch and puts his hands in his pockets. He’s wearing casual chinos and a collared shirt, untucked and open at the neck. Long, dark hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and a thick beard completes the look. He cocks his head in invitation, and raises an eyebrow.

Stiles sighs, and it sounds as though it’s coming up from his toes. He opens the Jeep’s door and climbs out slowly, and Noah follows at the same pace.

“Sorry I made us late,” Stiles says. “Stiles Stilinski.”

“Doctor Jack Denning,” he replies with an amused smile. “You wouldn’t be the first person to get stuck in a vehicle prior to an appointment. Is this your father?”

“Noah,” he says. As far as he’s concerned, his only role here is that of Stiles’ dad, not the Alpha or the sheriff.

“You can call me Jack,” Dr. Denning replies. “I prefer not to be too formal, although if that’s something you need, Stiles, just let me know.”

Stiles shakes his head. “No, Jack works for me. I’m not much for formality, but big on courtesy.”

Jack smiles at Stiles over his shoulder. “Then you understand the importance of calling someone by the name they prefer.”

“Exactly,” Stiles replies.

“Well, I like to set expectations right up front with the client and their parent or parents when the client is a minor,” Jack says, leading them into a sitting room with windows that look out onto a well-kept yard with a riot of flowers that catch and hold the eye. There’s a patio with a small table and a couple of chairs that Noah suspects Jack sometimes uses for his sessions.

Inside, there is, indeed, a couch, but it’s burgundy and overstuffed with enormous throw pillows. There are a couple of recliners, too, also overstuffed.

“Please, sit wherever you like,” Jack says.

Noah suspects that their seating choices will tell him something, and when Stiles glances at him anxiously, Noah figures Stiles knows that, too, and he’s freaked out at the idea of revealing too much too soon.

Noah takes a seat on the couch towards one end, leaving it up to Stiles if he wants to sit on the couch or one of the chairs. Stiles plops down right next to him, though, not quite touching.

Jack’s expression doesn’t give anything away, and he takes the chair closest to Stiles. “Usually, with the first appointment, I go over expectations, and your goals for our time together. Today, we’ll be talking about more long-term, overarching goals, but at the beginning of each session, I’ll be asking what your specific goal for that time is.”

Stiles bobs his head. “Okay, sounds good.”

Jack clears his throat. “The other thing I need to make clear is that you’re my patient, Stiles. There may be times when it makes sense to include your dad, but if he needs therapy, I won’t be providing it. What you share or don’t share with him about our time together is up to you.”

Jack is looking at Noah when he says that last part, and Noah shrugs. “I understand. I’m just here to support my kid, whatever that means.”

Jack breaks out in a smile. “Good. I’m glad to know that you’re going to reasonable. Not every parent understands who the patient is.” His blue eyes focus on Stiles. “Now, do you want your dad here for the initial consultation? I have a library he can hang out in if you’d prefer.”

Stiles audibly swallows. “Can he stay here?”

“Of course,” Jack says gently. “It’s all about your comfort at this point. Tell me, is it the fact that he’s your dad or your Alpha that makes you feel safer?”

Stiles blinks and looks at Noah, who shrugs. “Um, both? Mostly that he’s my dad, but also, he’s my Alpha. I’m still getting used to that.”

“How about we talk about how all of this came about, and I get a history from both of you?” Jack suggests. “Today can just be low key.”

Stiles bobs his head again. “Yeah, that’s good. I can do that.”

“Okay,” Jack says. “Tell me about the first time you realized you were dealing with the supernatural.”

Stiles launches into an explanation, and it’s a new one for Noah to hear. He’s heard an abbreviated version from Stiles in the past, but Stiles clearly left out a lot of details. Today, with Jack, he’s a little more forthcoming about what he’d gone through with Scott, and the sheer terror of facing down the Alpha.

Noah had no idea how violent Scott had become with Stiles, although he did know about Derek getting shot and Stiles nearly having to cut his arm off.

The story falters when he gets to his abduction, and Stiles falls silent after he describes being tased.

“It’s okay, Stiles,” Jack says gently. “Take your time.”

Stiles shakes his head. “I’ve had to tell so many people the story already.”

“You’ve had to tell police officers, your father, and others for law enforcement purposes, not for therapeutic purposes,” Jack points out. “We’re here to help you reprocess that trauma. We can do it in stages if necessary. We don’t have to do it all at once. Let’s just stop there for now.”

Stiles takes a deep breath, then blows it out audibly. “Yeah, okay. That would be good.”

“Why don’t you tell me how it felt to know that Allison was helping her aunt?” Jack asks gently.

“Wow, you don’t pull your punches, do you?” Stiles asks with a mild glare.

Jack shrugs. “I suspect that might be the easiest thing for you to talk about right now.”

“I thought she at least loved Scott enough that she wouldn’t kidnap and torture his best friend,” Stiles snaps.

Noah opens his mouth to object to Stiles’ tone, but is stopped by a quick shake of Jack’s head.

“You’re angry,” Jack observes mildly.

“You’re fucking right I’m angry,” Stiles replies bitterly. He glances at Noah and says, “Sorry for the language.”

“I’m not the boss of you when you’re not here, Stiles,” Jack says, still using that same mild tone. “But in this room, there’s no judgment of your feelings or the language that you use to describe those feelings.”

Noah sits back, and he has to acknowledge that Jack is the expert. He just nods at Stiles to continue and maintains his silent, but supportive presence.

He hopes Stiles finds him supportive at least.

“Are you still comfortable having your dad here, Stiles?” Jack asks.

Stiles nods. “Yeah. Dad might not like the language, but it’s not like he hasn’t heard it before.”

“It’s not like I haven’t used that language before,” Noah mutters, getting a laugh from Stiles.

“That, too.” Stiles admits.

“How do you feel about Scott, Stiles?” Jack asks quietly.

Stiles shifts uncomfortably. “He’s my best friend. He’s like a brother to me.”

“Friends fight,” Jack says, still with that same neutral expression. “Brothers fight. Sometimes they fight quite badly, and then they make up. Sometimes they fight and don’t make up. Have you expressed to Scott how you feel?”

“Why should I?” Stiles asks. “Scott can’t see her. He isn’t supposed to talk to her.”

“But from the information that Moira and your dad gave me, he did talk to her,” Jack replies. “She said that he was texting with someone he thought was Allison quite recently.”

Stiles blows out a breath. “Yeah, but Scott’s been led around by his dick ever since he met her.”

Jack is silent, regarding Stiles with a warm, steady gaze.

Finally, Stiles admits, “I’m kind of pissed with him, too, for even thinking that it was a good idea to be with a hunter once he found out who her parents were. There are plenty of fish in the sea, right?”

“There are,” Jack agrees. “At least, in theory. Not everyone agrees with that idea.”

Stiles snorts. “Scott would probably say that he and Allison are soulmates, but I don’t buy into that.”

“Which I’m sure makes it even more difficult to understand why Scott would choose her, since you two have been friends for how long?” Jack says.

Stiles rubs a hand over his head. “Since preschool.”

“But he didn’t choose you,” Jack says in a gently implacable way.

“No, he didn’t choose me!” Stiles says, his voice rising. “He didn’t fucking choose me, okay? Why does that matter?”

“It matters because I think you have some unresolved feelings about your kidnapping that have nothing to do with Allison or Kate,” Jack replies. “Yes, those memories are traumatic, as they would be for anyone, but it’s more than that, isn’t it, Stiles?”

Stiles stares out the window. “Yeah, it is.”

“Until you deal with those emotions, it’s going to be difficult to move past it,” Jack says. “What about the rest of the pack?”

Stiles’ crossed arms drop, and he relaxes completely. “The rest of the pack is great. Derek and I had a rocky start, but he’s been really solid, and Erica is adjusting quickly. Isaac is finally starting to relax. Dad’s going to offer the bite to Boyd next week after the full moon. We’re hoping he adjusts just as well as Erica and Isaac did. I guess there’s the full moon coming up, but Moira says she can help.”

Stiles’ happy chatter is a far cry from the misery he’d been projecting talking about the kidnapping and Scott. Of course, Noah notices that Stiles doesn’t mention Scott or his position in the pack.

Jack smiles. “From everything Moira has told me, you’re going to make an excellent emissary. I think, with time, you’ll be able to put the traumatic memories where they belong. But I also think you’re going to need to have an honest conversation with Scott at some point, maybe here, where I can mediate.” Jack pauses. “Or where your dad can as the Alpha.”

“I’m sorry,” Noah says quietly. “I should have dealt with Scott as the Alpha. I let Melissa handle it as his mother, but I had a separate responsibility to the pack.”

Stiles’ breath hitches briefly. “Dad, it’s fine.”

“It’s clearly not fine,” Noah says with some asperity. “And while I might be your dad and your Alpha, I need you to tell me when I’m fucking something up.”

Stiles laughs. “Dad, I didn’t even know it was a big deal until Jack tried to make me talk about it.”

Jack grins. “Part of my job is letting you talk about what you want to talk about. But part of it is gently prodding you to talk about things you would rather not. What’s your preference with Scott?”

“With Dad first, I think,” Stiles says thoughtfully. “But if that doesn’t work, with you.”

Noah clears his throat. “I told Derek that I’d ask about a therapist for him. Honestly, I figure everyone in the pack could use one, but I’m not really sure how to go about that.”

Jack hums thoughtfully. “I could probably see Derek on an individual basis, at least to start out. From what I understand, his issues largely predate the former Alpha rampaging through Beacon Hills, but if those issues ever overlap, it could present a conflict. Now, those conflicts can be waived if everyone consents, and that often happens in the supernatural world. There just aren’t enough therapists to see everyone, so we make do, and sometimes make different ethical choices than we would have otherwise.”

“But?” Noah prompts.

“But I don’t think that’s what your pack needs right now,” Jack replies. “I know someone who works with whole packs. It’s a bit unorthodox, since she uses a form of group therapy, but it can be very effective. I can contact her and see if she’s willing to come for a few sessions. I’ll warn you that she’s very busy, so it might take some time for her to be available.”

Noah frowns. “Will that be enough?”

“I have no idea, but once you establish the relationship, you can always ask her to return if necessary,” Jack replies. “She’s a licensed clinical social worker and also a wolf, so she’s qualified.”

Stiles leans forward. “Doesn’t she have a pack?”

Jack hesitates. “Not in the same sense that you do, but she’s found a way to stay grounded. The rest of it is her story to tell.”

Noah nods. “I’ll keep that in mind. I’ll ask Derek what he wants to do, too.”

“It was a pleasure meeting both of you today,” Jack replies, standing and holding his hand out. “Noah, don’t take this the wrong way, but next time, there’s a coffee shop three blocks to the north and two to the west.”

“No offense taken,” Noah replies, and wraps an arm around Stiles’ shoulders. “I’m just glad Stiles felt comfortable enough to let me sit in on this first session.”

Stiles leans into him briefly, and then shakes Jack’s hand. “Thanks for letting me have my comfort blanket.”

Jack frowns and then leans in. “Stiles, your dad’s presence is entirely up to you. If you want him here when we have difficult conversations, that’s fine. If you want to kick him out so you can complain about him non-stop, that’s also fine.”

Stiles glances over at Noah with a hint of a smirk. “Well, not non-stop. My dad’s pretty awesome.”

Jack laughs at that. “Get out of here. I’ll see you next month, but I’m available by phone in between.”

He escorts them out of the house, and Stiles tips his head back to look at the sunny sky. “That felt like it lasted forever.”

“A bad forever, or—“

Stiles shakes his head. “No, it’s good. He was right. I’m a lot angrier at Scott than I’ve let on.”

Noah squeezes his shoulder. “I would have been very surprised if you weren’t, kiddo.”

Stiles blows out a breath. “But I don’t want to think about it or talk about it right now, so can we get curly fries?”

“Curly fries are definitely on the agenda,” Noah agrees.

~~~~~

Derek hasn’t said anything about applying to take the basic course for policing earlier than planned. The program he’s chosen is meant to be done part-time, specifically for those who are already working and aren’t able to go to an academy full-time. Derek could finish up his degree first, but he’s decided that he’d rather get it all over with.

If he does both at once, he can be on the job that much faster, and he feels as though he needs to watch Noah’s back. Granted, Noah has Tara and Paul—and will probably have Dave sooner rather than later, maybe even the rest of the station.

But Derek feels his role as right hand keenly, and he knows his place is with Noah.

In all honesty, he hasn’t mentioned it because he hadn’t thought he’d get in on his first try, and he didn’t want to have to tell Noah that he hadn’t been accepted.

Except now he’s looking at his acceptance letter, and he starts in just a few weeks. He’d thought it would be too late to get into the next cycle, but there had apparently been a couple of drop outs, and they were able to squeeze him in.

Derek takes a deep breath and folds the letter back up, then cracks his sociology textbook. He has an examination coming up, the first one of the semester, and he wants to start off on the right foot.

He’s still studying when the front door opens, and Stiles and Noah come in after Stiles’ first therapy appointment. He can smell curly fries and sadness, and the acrid aftertaste of anger, but he doesn’t think the anger is between the two of them.

“No, I’m not saying they were bad, but they weren’t as good as the ones from the diner in town,” Stiles says animatedly. “I’m not sure I’ve ever had a bad curly fry.”

“I still think I liked them just a bit better,” Noah claims, a teasing note in his voice. “Derek, how’s it going?”

“Good,” Derek replies. “Just studying.”

“If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go check on Tara, Stiles,” Noah says. “I’ll be back for dinner.”

“Bring Tara with you if she’s feeling up to it,” Stiles calls. “It’s my turn to cook.”

Noah waves and is back out the door again.

“Did you bring enough curly fries for me?” Derek asks, propping his book on his chest.

Stiles snorts. “That was, like, an hour ago, dude. I needed sustenance after my therapy session.”

“How did it go?” Derek asks.

Stiles shrugs and throws himself onto one of the recliners. “I liked him—Jack, that is. He said he could probably do sessions with you if you wanted to waive the potential conflict.”

“Maybe,” Derek says slowly, giving Stiles a once over. “I’ll give it some thought. Why do you smell angry?”

“Because I’m working through some feelings of anger,” Stiles replies sarcastically. “Why do you think?”

Derek just gives him a long look.

Stiles sighs. “I have some unresolved feelings around Scott’s choices that I hadn’t acknowledged.”

Derek snorts. “You think?”

“How come everyone else already knows this?” Stiles demands.

“I don’t think they do,” Derek replies mildly. “I’m a little pissed off at him, and I wasn’t the one who got kidnapped and tortured. Your dad knows a lot about you, so he probably at least suspected. Scott is an oblivious idiot, so he wouldn’t have a clue.”

Stiles clearly wants to object, but then subsides, just looking thoughtful. “Okay, you may have a point.”

“Erica is too new, and Isaac is too caught up in his own issues to pay attention,” Derek adds. “Boyd hasn’t been around long enough.” He raises expectant eyebrows. “Are you going to talk to Scott?”

“Dad and I are going to do it together,” Stiles replies with a deep sigh. And then he frowns. “Why do you feel—conflicted?”

Derek frowns at him. “Seriously?”

“What? You have chemosignals, and I can feel you through the bond,” Stiles protests. “It’s not like I can read your thoughts or anything. I just know that you feel conflicted, which I would probably still know if I had your nose.”

Derek has to concede the truth in that statement. “Okay, fine, and yes, a little conflicted.”

“So?” Stiles prompts.

Derek looks at Stiles’ bright eyes and feels a surge of fondness for him. He finds himself noticing the constellation of moles on Stiles’ skin, and he quickly shakes off that thought. He doesn’t need to be thinking about Stiles in that way. Not for at least another couple of years. Maybe not even then.

“I got in to the basic course for policing,” Derek admits.

Stiles frowns. “I thought you were going to wait to finish your degree.”

“I can do both at the same time, and finish up the last couple of classes after that,” Derek replies. “I feel it’s really important that I’m there to watch Noah’s back.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Stiles says. “Tara and Paul are great, but you’re Dad’s right hand. I trust you with him.”

Derek knows how much that means. “Thanks. I just—I can do both at once. Your dad has a job, as does Tara, and the rest of you are in school.”

“So, you have the time,” Stiles says. “And you want to charge through and get it done so you can move on to the next stage of your life. I get that.”

Derek nods. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“So, why conflicted?”

“It wasn’t the plan,” Derek replies. “The plan was for me to finish school and then do the course.”

Stiles shrugs. “Plans rarely survive first engagement. I take it you didn’t expect to get in.”

“I didn’t, not this round, but there were some drop outs, so they could take me,” Derek replies. “Otherwise, it would have been the next round…or maybe never.”

“You don’t have a criminal history, Derek,” Stiles reminds him. “You were taken into custody, but charges were never filed. Dad listed you as a witness in the attack at the high school, not a potential suspect. What they saw when they looked is that you were the victim of a crime, and the Sheriff of Beacon County took you under his wing.”

Derek knows all that is true. In his application, he’d talked about losing his family to a serial arsonist and how Sheriff Stilinski had helped him, had shown him the importance of law enforcement, and what it could do for the community.

“Yeah, that was in my application,” Derek admits. “I honestly didn’t think they’d find it compelling.”

Stiles snorts. “It’s pretty fucking compelling, Derek.”

Derek raises an eyebrow. “Language.”

“You’re not my father, and as my therapist said today, there’s nothing wrong with using the language appropriate to the situation,” Stiles replies.

Derek barks a laugh. “Fair. So, is your dad gonna be mad?”

“Derek, he’s going to be proud as hell,” Stiles replies. “And to celebrate, I’m thinking about cooking something complicated. How about chicken alfredo? It feeds a crowd, and there might even be leftovers, depending on how hungry everyone is.”

“Sounds good to me,” Derek replies.

“Great!” Stiles says happily. “I think we have everything we need, but I’ll double check to be sure.”

“Let me know if you need to run to the store, and I’ll go with you,” Derek calls as Stiles heads for the kitchen.

Stiles glances over his shoulder. “The evil Argents are in custody, Derek.”

Derek shakes his head and goes back to his book, but not before saying, “The ones we know about, sure, but I wouldn’t put anything past the remaining Argents—especially since you’re a witness.”

Stiles just waves a hand and goes into the kitchen, and Derek goes back to studying.

It’s Saturday, so they’re expecting the rest of the pack eventually. It’s the day before the full moon, and they’re going to want to stick close.

Erica is the first to arrive, walking through the front door with a cheery, “Hey, everyone! Doctor Strange, did you survive therapy?”

“Sure!” Stiles calls from the kitchen. “Come on back.”

Erica waves at Derek as she passes through on the way to the kitchen, and he hears her ask, “What are you making? Is it—are we celebrating something? It looks complicated.”

“Because it is complicated, and yes, we are celebrating something, but the announcement will have to wait until everyone has gathered,” Stiles replies.

Scott, Isaac, and Boyd are the next to arrive, Scott and Isaac jostling each other on their way inside the door, and Boyd looking on with a judgmental mien.

“Hey, Derek,” Isaac says carelessly.

“Hey,” Scott echoes.

Boyd, on the other hand, comes to sit in one of the recliners. “Hey.”

Derek finds Boyd’s presence restful. “Hey.”

“Studying?”

“Got an exam coming up,” Derek replies.

“We’re going to study and do homework after dinner,” Boyd offers. “If you want to join us.”

Derek nods. “Yeah, sure.”

He feels as though he’s straddling the two sides of the pack—there are the kids who are still in high school, and then Tara, Paul, and Noah, who are adults and at the station. Derek wonders if Noah will want to replace him as the right hand with Tara and Paul joining the pack.

Boyd levers himself up from the chair. “I’m gonna get a soda. You want one?”

“No, I’m good,” Derek replies. “Thanks.”

Boyd offers a salute and a smile, and then heads into the kitchen.

Derek goes back to studying, letting the voices of the others become white noise. He can hear the banging of pots and pans, and it’s good being in a pack house again, one that’s full of life and color.

The front door opens, and Noah walks back through, leading Tara and Paul inside. “Stiles! We have company!” he calls.

Stiles comes out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. “Hey, Tara, hey, Paul. Glad you could join us. I’m making chicken alfredo.”

“Sounds delicious,” Tara replies.

She and Paul are both wearing jeans and t-shirts, although Paul is wearing a plain blue shirt that brings out the blue in his eyes, and Tara is wearing a faded Def Leppard shirt under a leather jacket.

Tara looks good, though, and Derek can see how well the bite has taken. Her hazel eyes are warm and bright, there’s a glow to her skin, and a delicate pink flush to her cheeks.

“Hey, Derek,” Tara says warmly. “How are things?”

“Things are good,” Derek replies, and he’s a little hesitant to share his news.

Stiles isn’t. “Dad, Derek got into the basic course!”

Derek shoots him a mild glare, but he nods when Noah looks at him. “I thought you were going to wait,” Noah says, although there’s no censure in his voice.

Still, Derek shifts uncomfortably. “I thought it was important to get through it sooner rather than later, and I didn’t think I’d be accepted for this round.”

Noah breaks out in a smile, and he comes over and reaches down, pulling Derek up into a fierce hug. “I’m proud of you. That’s something to celebrate.”

Tara is the next to hug him. “It’s going to be good having you at the station, although I’m still calling you ‘rookie.’”

“Fair,” Derek decides, and accepts the handshake from Paul.

“It will be good to have you on board,” Paul says, clapping him on the shoulder.

It’s the kind of welcome that Derek would expect from packmates, and he feels warmth bubbling up in his chest. “Thanks.”

“I’ll grab the beers,” Noah says, and he rubs the top of Stiles’ head as he passes. Derek hears him greeting the others, too, and sounds that signify rough hugs or head or shoulder pats, as each member needs.

“You’re pretty in tune with the pack,” Tara says softly. “Are they—“

Derek shakes his head. “It’s fine. It’ll be nice to have another responsible adult around.”

“I heard that!” Stiles yells from the kitchen.

“You’re also not an adult by definition!” Derek hollers back.

Paul snickers at that, and Tara smiles.

“Hey, Sheriff, can I invite Mom? Her shift doesn’t start until seven,” Scott says.

“Yeah, of course,” Noah replies, and returns to the living room with four bottles of beer.

Derek hasn’t really developed a taste for beer, and he can’t get drunk, but he doesn’t mind drinking to be sociable under the circumstances. It’s another dividing line between him and the younger pack members, a reminder that he’s a grown man.

Not that he needs a reminder, but sometimes it’s nice.

“We’ll talk later about your plans, but for right now,” Noah says raising his bottle. “You did good, Derek. Congratulations.”

Derek isn’t sure why he’d been worried about telling Noah the news, because his reaction is everything he’d hoped for.

And there’s a part of him that knows his family would be proud, too.

~~~~~

Stiles notices that Scott is still somewhat subdued after the whole fake-Allison fiasco. Scott slinks around his dad a bit, probably because of the whole “disappointing his Alpha” thing, and also because he knows he blew it.

He hopes Scott is at least talking to someone about it. Maybe Isaac, but Stiles is glad that he’s not the chosen audience.

Maybe Scott has figured out that Stiles isn’t the one to vent his frustrations to over the whole Allison thing.

“I have no cooking ability at all, but I’m willing to help,” Erica announces.

“Same,” Isaac offers. “I can help.”

“I cook,” Boyd says. “Some.”

Stiles points at Erica. “You’re on cheese grating duty. Boyd, you and Isaac can make the salad. Scott, do you know how your mom makes garlic bread?”

Scott smiles for the first time in what feels like a long time. “Yeah, I can do that. Carb load initiated.”

Stiles grins. His love for Scott is unabated, even if his anger has been unearthed. “Good man.”

He’s been keeping a loaf of French bread in the freezer for just this reason, and he pulls it out. “It will thaw quickly if you don’t want to saw through it.”

Scott shrugs. “No problem. I can hack it,” and then he cracks himself up.

Stiles cracks a smile, but he’s focused on the alfredo sauce that he’s building. A good one takes time and attention, garlic and butter and flour and then milk added in a slow and steady stream.

“I’ve got this,” Moira says, and Stiles hadn’t sensed her come into the kitchen. “You get the pasta water boiling.” She squeezes his shoulders in a way that Stiles imagines his mother might have done had she still been alive.

Stiles gives her a grateful look. “Thanks.”

She pulls him down to kiss his temple. “You had a hard day, mo chroi. Keep doing what you’re doing.”

Stiles leans into her briefly. “I think you’re really awesome.”

“Right back at you, young spark,” Moira replies.

Stiles abandons his sauce to focus on getting the pasta water on and rummages for a grill pan. It’s not the same as grilling the chicken, but he likes the flavor better.

“Stop that,” Derek orders as he enters the kitchen to pull the already-seasoned chicken out of the fridge. “Your dad and I are going to grill. I know you prefer it that way.”

Stiles has never told Derek as much, but he’s somehow not surprised that Derek knows. He also knows without being told that Derek is afraid his dad will replace him as his right hand now that Tara is back on her feet.

He pulls Derek close in a tight hug and whispers in his ear, “Dad isn’t going to change his mind, not when it comes to pack business. Relax, Der.”

Stiles feels the tension leave him, and Derek mutters, “How do you do that?”

“Secret emissary thing that Moira’s been teaching me,” Stiles replies.

Derek rubs the top of his head in response and heads out to the back, where his dad is already prepping the grill with Paul and Tara.

“How did you get stuck inside with the kids?” Stiles asks Moira.

She sniffs. “I happen to enjoy the energy of young people, Stiles. It keeps me young myself.”

Moira is wearing her usual uniform of skinny jeans and a blouse with color-coordinated Chucks, this time in red. Stiles has come to believe that she either has an unlimited supply of shoes in different colors, or she changes the color using magic. He hasn’t asked which it is yet, mostly because Moira is very free with telling him when something isn’t any of his business.

Stiles salts the water for the pasta and dumps in the fettuccine. Moira is whisking the alfredo sauce, and Stiles checks on the progress for the salad and garlic bread.

There’s a call from the front door. “Hello!”

“Hey, Mom!” Scott replies. “We’re in the kitchen.”

Melissa comes in with a bottle of wine. “I have no food to offer, and I have a shift, but I think you prefer white, Moira?”

Moira smiles. “I do, thank you, Melissa.”

The meal comes together quickly after that, and the extra leaves in the dining room table have become permanent additions. They leave everything but the garlic bread in the kitchen so that people can serve themselves, and the ‘wolves load up on pasta, sauce, and chicken.

They probably would have skipped the salad, but with disapproving looks from both Melissa and Moira, everyone takes at least a serving.

“Let’s talk about the full moon,” Noah says as soon as they’ve all sat down.

Tara, Erica, and Isaac perk up at that, because it will be their first. “Will we need to be chained up?” Erica asks hesitantly.

Moira shakes her head. “There are other methods to deal with aggression besides chaining someone up. Established packs will typically use wards to keep things calmer for new wolves or young ones who haven’t gained control.”

Stiles can see Derek’s surprise. “I thought—“

“You probably didn’t need to worry about that when your mom was alive,” Moira says gently. “A strong Alpha will keep people in check, and while Noah is relatively new to being an Alpha, his strength is apparent. Tara, you’ll probably have an easier time of it with your age and experience.”

Noah nods. “We’ll be heading out to the Preserve. In talking to Paul, I think being able to run will help. Paul is going to run the shift at the station and take point there. Tara is technically still out on disability. Derek and Scott, I’m going to rely on you two to help Isaac and Erica.”

“Stiles and I will ward an area for you to spend most of the full moon,” Moira says easily. “He’ll need to know how to do it anyway.”

Stiles really enjoys ward work, and he appreciates the chance to help the pack. “Sounds great.”

“We’ll start tomorrow afternoon.” Moira sounds supremely confident, like there’s going to be no problem at all.

Stiles is pretty sure that even if she were freaking out, she’d still sound supremely confident. The first rule of magic she’d taught him was to be safe, but the second was to believe in his own abilities.

The garlic bread has completely disappeared—as has pretty much everything else—by the time they finish their meal. Melissa has to get to work, but the cleanup goes quickly with everyone helping, and then they all settle around the table to work on homework.

Stiles notices that Erica and Derek sit on either side of him, providing a buffer from Scott. Stiles will get over it eventually, but he’s glad to have a little space.

Derek has his sociology test to study for, Scott is still struggling with history, Stiles has math, and Boyd, Erica, and Isaac all have an essay for their civics class.

Stiles can hear his dad chatting with Tara, Paul, and Moira in the living room, and after his therapy appointment, it’s a little piece of normal.

Well, the new normal anyway.

“See you!” Tara calls as she and Paul leave, and Stiles realizes that the energy of the pack has shifted with another couple of adults involved. It feels a little like relief, because it means there are two people watching his dad’s back at the station.

Stiles finishes his trig problems just as Moira comes over to him. “If you’re at a stopping place, we can go over the warding for tomorrow,” she offers.

Stiles nods. “But we should probably move it to the living room.”

“We can do that,” Moira replies, and they pass his dad on the way, who gives Stiles a side-hug.

“How are you doing, kiddo?” Noah asks, keeping his voice low, but there’s still real concern.

Stiles takes a deep breath. “I’m okay.”

“Let me know if that changes,” his dad orders. “I need to go over some reports, but I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

Moira gives him a sharp look. “Are you going to be okay for this?”

Stiles nods. “We can talk about it tomorrow.”

Moira tucks her curly hair behind her ears, and smiles. “Of course. We have to go out to the Preserve tomorrow anyway.”

Stiles drops down on the floor as Moira retrieves her bag, and she reaches in and pulls out the cloth she uses for most of their rituals. She told him that it’s magically neutral and protects the elements from any interference.

“We’re using a mixture of agate and chrysocolla,” Moira says. “They are not ideal for long-term protection, but they’ll be sufficient for the time being.”

Stiles nods. “Agate for discernment and stabilization of the aura, chrysocolla for harmony and being attuned to the earth.”

Moira nods. “Exactly. I’m glad you’ve been doing your reading. Now, we add runes. Which would you choose?”

Stiles takes a deep breath, because he’s been studying, but also because he knows his magical instinct should guide him. “Wunjo, for alignment, Mannaz for balance and rational thought, and Othala for a sense of belonging.”

Moira lifts an eyebrow, but she says, “There are others you could have chosen, but this is a conservative array for a first full moon, and will be especially beneficial for new wolves, of which your father may have many before all is said and done.”

“Do you think it will be a problem?” Stiles asks. “I mean, we think the Argents are still around somewhere.”

Moira takes a deep breath. “It’s a concern, which is why I plan on being there. I’m sure that Christopher Argent, in particular, would love to catch your father out.”

Stiles rubs sweaty palms on his pants. “Do you think he’ll come after me again?”

Moira shakes her head. “I’d like to say no, Stiles, but I can’t make that promise. He almost certainly doesn’t know that you can use magic, and so you might look weak to the hunters.”

Stiles sets his jaw. “Then I need to become a harder target.”

Moira nods. “We can work on that. Right now, though, we need to protect the pack, and that means not giving the Argents any reason to invoke their code.”

Stiles knows that Moira is right. “Will this work?”

Moira just smiles. “That’s what I’m here to make sure of.”

~~~~~

Noah glances up when he hears the knock on the door, and he calls, “Come in!”

Isaac pokes his head through door. “I don’t want to bother you.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Noah replies, although he’d been hoping to get through all of his reports before being interrupted. Still, it’s Isaac, and Noah knows that even a slight frown will chase him off, although he’s starting to relax. “Have a seat. What can I do for you?”

Isaac slouches into a chair and stares at his clasped hands, resting his forearms on his legs. “Will you help me get emancipated?”

“Is that what you’ve decided you want?” Noah asks. “We still have to finish settling your dad’s estate. Social services seems to be content that you have a place to stay for the time being. You wouldn’t need to do anything.”

Isaac shakes his head. “I know, and I—don’t really want anything to change, but I want the certainty of knowing social services won’t change their minds, and that I can make decisions for myself.”

“You’ve been doing that already,” Noah points out. “You were the one who chose to take the bite, and sooner than would have been my preference.”

Isaac nods, his blue eyes troubled. “Why did you hesitate? I mean, I know why you moved quickly with Erica, but did you think I would be like my dad?”

“Not exactly,” Noah says. “But I wanted you to be sure that you were doing it for the right reasons—not just because you were afraid.”

Isaac shakes his head. “It’s not about that, though, is it? It’s about the needs of the pack, and I can add my strength to yours.”

“Something like that,” Noah agrees. “I’m glad you understand. And yes, I will be happy to help you get emancipated.”

Isaac blows out a breath, and Noah can actually smell the relief on him. “Thank you, sir.”

Noah snorts. “You’re not one of my deputies, Isaac. I think you can call me Noah.”

There’s a hint of sass when Isaac replies, “Yes, sir.”

Noah waves him out. “Get out of here. Are you staying here tonight or with Scott?”

Isaac hesitates. “With Scott, I think. He’s still—he’s still a little freaked out about the whole thing with Allison, and he doesn’t want to talk to Stiles about it.”

“Good,” Noah says. “Then he’s showing a modicum of sense.”

That actually pulls a laugh out of Isaac. “I might have had something to do with that.”

“I already knew you had a modicum of sense,” Noah replies. “Thank you. And you’re already contributing to the pack, Isaac, just by being here.”

Isaac blushes and then slouches out of his office.

Noah shakes his head and goes back to his reports. He wants to get through the full moon, and then he’ll offer Boyd the bite. The jury is still out on whether he’ll accept, but Boyd is definitely getting sucked into the pack.

There’s another knock on the door when Noah still has at least an hour’s worth of work, and he sighs but calls out, “Come in.”

Moira enters and sits down across from him. “I’m sorry to interrupt.”

Noah shakes his head. He likes Moira a lot, and she’s been a steadying presence for Stiles. “I always have time for you. I appreciate everything you’ve been doing for Stiles.”

Moira gives him a look. “Noah, I hope you understand that Stiles is the sort of student that a teacher waits their whole life for. And am I wrong in thinking that you want to build a sanctuary town?”

“It’s a goal,” Noah admits.

Moira nods. “I would love to help with that, but that’s not actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Noah nods. “Do I need to turn on the white noise generator?”

Moira considers it for a moment. “No. There are actually two things. The first is about the Argents, and the wolves need to know what the risks are.”

Noah blows out a long breath. “This is about spending the full moon in the Preserve.”

“To be fair, you did the right thing by keeping Kate and Gerard alive,” Moira says. “They could still decide they have a vendetta, as could any hunter. They like to claim that werewolves are animals, but I think the hunters are worse. In any case, there’s at least a chance they’ll show up tomorrow night. It will be incredibly important for you to maintain control.”

Noah accepts her admonition with good grace. “Especially since we’ll have three new wolves. I hear you. You have any advice on that?”

“I’ll be there,” Moira replies. “And I will respond with extreme prejudice if the Argents show up and present a threat.”

Noah can’t argue with that, and he has a feeling that Moira will take care of the bodies as well. “What else?”

“We need to start thinking about other threats, besides the Argents,” Moira replies. “We’ve already seen that by taking out Kate, you invited Gerard’s attention.”

“And in taking out Gerard, we may have drawn attention from others,” Noah says. It’s something that has crossed his mind.

Moira shrugs. “I know you’re building the pack, and while you might not have offered Tara the bite except to save her life…you need adults in the pack, Noah.”

“I have Tara, Paul, and Derek,” Noah replies. “And Mel.”

“I mean wolves,” Moira replies.

“I might have another deputy who can be read in,” Noah admits. “We’re still vetting him. And I’m hoping that Derek can scope out one or two more at the academy. I have a couple of openings.”

Moira nods. “As Paul has demonstrated, we can accept other magical creatures into the pack.”

Noah raises his eyebrows. “‘We?’ Does that mean you’re staying? Because I would love that.”

Moira hesitates, and then says, “Stiles’ training will probably last through his college years. Maybe after that. Much like the human brain, magic doesn’t fully settle until we’re in our late 20’s. At that point, I might very well be ready for retirement in a sanctuary.”

Noah shakes his head. “You aren’t that old.”

“I’m older than I look,” Moira replies with a dimpled smile. “But thank you for that.”

Noah just raises his eyebrows. “You look younger than I do.”

“Magic is a great preserver,” Moira counters. “And a lady never reveals her age.”

There’s a hint of flirtation in her voice, but Noah knows better than to take it seriously.

At least, he’s not going to take it seriously. He’s still in love with Claudia, and he doesn’t see that changing. Noah still misses his wife like a missing limb.

But maybe Derek had been right, and there’s a history of born wolves in his family. He’s heard that wolves mate for life, but he has no idea if that’s true for werewolves.

“You have the signs of a broken bond,” Moira says, as though reading his mind. “Your wife was the love of your life.”

“Claudia,” Noah says, and he hears the grief heavy in his voice. “It was—traumatic.”

“Wolves might mate for life, but it doesn’t mean they can’t find another partner if something happens,” Moira says gently. “But I’m not pressing. You have quite enough on your plate at the moment.”

Noah appreciates that. “Thanks.”

“In order to create a sanctuary town, we’ll need to cleanse the Nemeton,” Moira says. “Unfortunately, that work is probably years out. I’ll need a gathering of magic users, and probably several visits. I thought I had a couple who would be willing to come, but their attention has been diverted to what they feel are more pressing matters.”

Noah nods. “Then you’ll need to recruit?”

“Quite possibly, and I’m still mulling over the options,” Moira replies. “If you want to maintain a sanctuary, you’re going to need more magic users than just myself and Stiles.”

Noah has to admit that he hasn’t really thought that far ahead, and he knows that he needs to start planning. “Right.”

“We don’t have to figure it out tomorrow, but I wanted to put it on your radar,” Moira says. “Besides, tomorrow is the full moon.”

Noah snorts. “Right, well, that should be fun.”

“Tara will be fine,” Moira predicts. “Erica will be a handful. Isaac is quite self-contained. I suggest you stick with Tara, and let Derek run the young ones ragged. But I don’t anticipate any trouble as long as we don’t have unwanted company.”

Noah appreciates the advice. “Thank you.”

Moira smiles and stands. “I consider myself the pack godmother at this point, Noah. I’ll leave you to your work.”

Noah doesn’t go back to his reports, though. Instead, he leans back in his chair and puts his feet up on his desk, closing his eyes and thinking, letting the scenarios play out in his mind.

He’s not surprised when there’s another knock on his door, but he is surprised when Scott pokes his head inside.

“Come on in, Scott,” Noah says. Scott might be a dumbass, but as Stiles would say, he’s their dumbass. “How are you?”

Scott slouches into the chair across his desk. “Is Stiles mad at me?”

Noah feels like he’s entering into dangerous territory. “Have you asked Stiles that question?”

“Isaac told me that I can’t push my discomfort onto Stiles, because he has enough issues around Allison and the Argents,” Scott admits. “So, I thought I’d ask you.”

The puppy-dog eyes might have been effective when Scott and Stiles were five years old, but he’s immune at this point. “Do you think that Stiles has a reason to be upset?” he counters.

Scott fidgets. “Yes?”

Noah frowns.

“Yes,” Scott says more definitively.

Noah really feels as though he’s out of his depth. “I agree that you shouldn’t put your feelings regarding Allison on Stiles, but if you want to work things out with him, you’re going to need to talk to him.”

Scott shifts uncomfortably, and he finally blurts out, “Are you mad at me?”

Noah realizes that Scott is asking both his Alpha and quasi-father figure. “Scott, you’re the closest thing that Stiles has to a brother, and to me having another son. Am I disappointed? Yeah, because I know you knew better. Am I mad at you? Only if you choose not to learn your lesson.”

Scott actually flushes. “Yes, Sheriff. I’ll try.”

“That’s all I can ask,” Noah replies. “Go on, get out of here. I have work to do.”

Scott ducks his head and says, “I’m really sorry.”

“I know, Scott,” Noah replies gently. “Now, scram.”

Scott leaves, and Noah just knows that he’s not going to be the last visitor.

“Why the hell did I become an Alpha in the first place?” Noah mutters to himself.

And then, of course, there’s another knock, but this time Stiles steps in and closes the door behind him, a text book in hand. “I’m going to read ahead for my history class and let you work,” Stiles announces. “We get both quiet time and time together.”

Noah honestly isn’t sure he could love his kid more in that moment. “Thank you.”

Stiles just smiles at him. “I love you, Pops.”

“Love you, too, kiddo,” Noah replies. “I think I’ll go out to the Preserve with you and Moira tomorrow.”

“I think that will be great,” Stiles replies, and he props his feet up on Noah’s desk. After a moment’s hesitation, Noah does the same.

He can review reports tomorrow; right now, he can just relax, listening to the steady beat of his son’s heart.

Chapter 2

Tara is on disability from the shooting, although she’s completely healed at this point. Noah had insisted that they treat the injury and recovery as they would have had Tara still been human. Besides, they don’t know how she’s going to do during the full moon, and she needs to be steady before she comes back to the job.

Right now, though, Noah is pacing around the clearing in the Preserve where Stiles and Moira are placing the wards, getting a feel for the area. He knows it’s a bit of a risk to be outdoors, rather than being locked down somewhere.

Moira and Paul had both made the suggestion, and Derek backed them up. “My family always did,” Derek admitted. “It’s why the Hale house was originally built in the Preserve. Normally, I wouldn’t suggest it for new wolves, but…”

“And you don’t think they’ll run wild?” Noah asked.

Derek shrugged. “Honestly, they’re pretty invested in you as the Alpha. I think you’ll be able to control them.”

Noah hopes Derek and Moira are right about that, but his instincts are telling him that being out in the open is the correct choice.

Moira and Stiles are sitting on the ground across from each other, cross-legged, a collection of stones between them.

“I feel like we could use the earth’s energies to help power the stones,” Stiles is saying. “Am I way off base?”

Moira beams at him. “You’re exactly right. Good, Stiles. You’re listening to your instincts. Tell me what you’d do first.”

“Feel the ley lines, draw up energy, and charge the stones like batteries,” Stiles says readily. “I’m the conduit for the energy.”

“Close enough,” Moira replies with pleasure. “I know it can be hard to describe how you’re performing a magical act.”

Stiles nods. “It’s still weird to realize I can feel the currents. Is that a normal thing?”

“It is for you,” Moira says. “Your magic would likely have surfaced over time, but terror and trauma have a way of supercharging things.”

“Yay, terror?” Stiles jokes.

Moira snorts. “If you want to look at it like that, then sure.”

Stiles shrugs. “Better than railing against fate, right? Or crying over spilled milk.”

“There is that,” Moira agrees. “Now, before we get started, let’s talk about some of your residual feelings so they don’t color our work.”

Noah keeps pacing the perimeter, but he’s listening to everything they’re saying, and he’s very interested in Stiles’ response.

“I’m really mad at Scott,” Stiles says bluntly. “Like, really, really mad. Madder than I’ve ever been, even when he was being a dumbass with Allison and getting off track, and I thought I’d have to cut off Derek’s arm.”

Moira nods. “Are you mad that he dated Allison in the first place, kept dating her after he knew about her family, or are you mad that he started talking to her again after what she did to you?”

Noah can hear Stiles’ sharp inhale. “Does it matter?”

“I think it matters very much if we’re going to move forward,” Moira replies. “Because it goes to the root of the issue, and whether we can move forward with Scott in the pack.”

Stiles takes another audible breath. “I don’t blame him for dating Allison in the first place. I get infatuation. Maybe I get love, too, but I’ve never been in love. I’m a little mad that he kept dating her after he knew what her family was, and I’m a lot mad that he’d fucking take up with her again after what she did to me!”

That last comes out in a roar worthy of a wolf, and Stiles is on his feet. The trees tremble, and it’s not the wind, or an earthquake. Noah can feel his rage, and he’s grateful that it hadn’t come out in Jack’s very nice living room.

The earth can take Stiles’ rage; Jack’s bay windows, maybe not.

Noah finds himself on edge and at the ready as he waits for Moira to respond to Stiles.

“Get it out of your system, Stiles, before you try to charge the stones,” Moira says. “You need to be rock solid.”

“How?” Stiles demands. “He’s in the pack, and I love him like a brother, so I don’t want him to not be pack, but he chose his fucking psycho girlfriend over me!”

“Is there anyone you would choose over Scott?” Moira asks, still seated, still calm.

“My dad,” Stiles admits after a pregnant pause. “Maybe Derek. Depends on the circumstances.”

“What would it take for Scott to earn your forgiveness?” Moira queries.

Stiles pauses at that. “He shouldn’t have to.”

“He’s a pack member, which means he’s subject to the mores of the pack, and there’s a hierarchy,” Moira points out. “Derek is the right hand, and you’re the future emissary and the Alpha’s son. He has harmed you, and he needs to make amends.”

Stiles stops moving and his fists unclench. “How?”

“Tonight,” Moira replies. “You tell him how you feel in front the pack and air your grievances. You stand as emissary, and you call him out.”

Stiles shakes his head. “I’m not the emissary yet.”

“You are,” Noah says. “You aren’t trained yet, but this is pack business, Stiles, because he put all of us at risk.”

It’s heavy, and it’s a lot, but Noah can’t argue with his instincts. Having it out in public, not letting things fester, is for the best. He doesn’t think Stiles is the only one who feels that way.

“So, you want me, fragile, human me, to be around a wolf pack during a full moon,” Stiles says.

“Oh, mo chroi,” Moira says. “Before everything is said and done, you’re going to be able to handle an entire pack by yourself. For tonight, though, you’ll be with me, and you’ll have this.”

She pulls something out of her pocket and tosses it to Stiles, who catches it easily. “What is this?”

“It will help you channel the earth’s energy,” Moira tells him. “Your dad’s also very attuned to the earth, and the pack will reflect that.”

Noah raises his eyebrows, because he can sense that Moira isn’t telling the entire truth, and it’s not the first time. He trusts that she knows what she’s doing, though, and that she cares about Stiles and wants what’s best for him.

From what Noah has figured out, Stiles’ ability rests at least partially on his faith and belief, so Moira telling him that the amulet will protect him means that it will. His faith will fuel it.

Stiles just pulls the leather cord over his head, and Noah’s curiosity gets the better of him. He moves closer and sees that it’s silver, a knot in the shape of a cross woven around a circle.

“It’s called a witch’s knot,” Moira offers. She doesn’t say more, but Stiles just nods as though he knows what that means, and he tucks it under his shirt.

“Now we have to place the stones,” Stiles says.

“Exactly so,” Moira replies. “Follow your instincts, Stiles.”

Noah has no idea how Stiles decides where to place the stones, but he wanders around the perimeter of the clearing with the stones and a small trowel, and Noah sits on the ground next to Moira.

“Do you really think it’s a good idea to put Stiles in the middle of the pack?” Noah asks.

“I do,” Moira says easily. “It will build his confidence, and this is a pack issue, Noah. When he started talking to the person he thought was Allison, Scott betrayed Stiles, but he also betrayed everyone else, whether or not they fully understand that. The correction needs to take place in front of everyone.”

Noah has always been more of a praise in public, correct in private sort of leader, but he can appreciate the power of a public correction for morale. “I don’t normally do that sort of thing.”

“Because you’re a good leader,” Moira says. “I wouldn’t normally advise it, but Scott needs it as much as the rest of the pack does. Correct him, let Stiles vent his spleen, and then be done with it and move on.”

Noah can see her perspective. Stiles is the Olympic champion of grudge-holding, so figuring out how to let go of the anger is important. If having it out in front of the pack will take care of it, then Noah is on board.

“All right,” Noah says. “We’ll try it. Stiles doesn’t like being angry with Scott, so he’ll be motivated to let it go.”

Stiles wanders back over with the trowel, but minus the stones, and Noah can see the dirt under his nails. “I think we’re good. How does it feel?”

Moira takes a deep breath and then nods. “Good work, Stiles. Noah?”

Noah has no idea what he’s looking for, but he closes his eyes and focuses. The clearing feels—calm. “Feels great.”

Stiles grins. “Awesome.”

“I’m going to go check on Tara,” Noah says. “And probably visit the station.”

They’d driven separately for just that reason, and Noah drives to Tara’s house. She lives in a neat little ranch-style home about a mile from the station, and he knows that she often walks to work.

Noah had advised her to stay home as much as possible today, and he rings the doorbell. Tara answers the door, looking frazzled, but her expression turns relieved as soon as she sees him.

“Feeling antsy?” Noah asks.

“How are you so calm?” Tara demands, stepping aside to let him enter. “Paul has already been by to check on me. He said I should call you if I still felt wired.”

“Come back to the house with me,” Noah replies. “You’ll feel better if you’re around the rest of the pack.”

“No offense, sir, but they’re kids,” Tara grumbles, a sheen of sweat on her brown skin. “Nice kids, but still kids. And I never wanted any.”

Noah laughs. “You have Derek and Paul for company.”

“Derek is also a kid,” Tara mutters.

“He is,” Noah agrees. “Welcome to the club of feeling old on the regular, as they like to say.”

Tara snorts. “When are we bringing Dave in?”

“Soon,” Noah replies. “I’d like to offer the bite to Boyd and get him through his first full moon before starting on the rest of the station.”

Tara gives him a look. “Dave is the easy one, and he’ll help bring the others on board. Would you offer him the bite?”

“I will if he asks for it,” Noah admits. “Although not right away. Boyd will have priority, and I don’t want too many newbies at once.”

“Is that how it’s going to be?” Tara asks. “You’re going to reserve it for kids and dying people?”

Noah shakes his head. “I don’t want to pressure anyone into getting the bite, and I’m not interested in having anyone in the pack who’s not all in. Unless I’m saving their life, and I like them already.”

Tara laughs at that, and she says, “I’m glad you like me, sir. Granted, this is like the worst PMS ever, but I’ve been dealing with that since I was a teenager.”

Noah isn’t put off by the comment about her period. Claudia had made it clear that Noah wasn’t allowed to have a problem with women talking about the things that came with nature. “Well, I guess we’ll see how Erica and Isaac are doing.”

Noah drives Tara over to his house, and he finds the kids hanging out in the living room, having a Mario Kart competition. Erica is right in the middle of it, working out her aggression through video games.

“Maybe you should play Mario Kart,” Noah suggests.

Tara sends him a mild glare. “I’m a little mad at you for making it so that alcohol doesn’t work on me.”

Noah shrugs. “I can’t get drunk either, you know.”

“Doesn’t make me less irritated,” Tara admits.

“Yeah, I was a little mad myself,” Noah says.

Moira emerges from the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel. “Just because alcohol can’t get a werewolf drunk, doesn’t mean that you’re not susceptible to other substances.”

Tara perks up at that. “Does that mean I can still get intoxicated?”

“It means we can work on it,” Moira replies. “Stiles and I are working on dinner. We thought finger foods.”

“Can I help?” Tara asks. “I need to do something, and the answer isn’t Mario Kart.”

Moira laughs. “Of course.”

Boyd is just watching, so Noah calls to him. “Come on over.”

Boyd stands with a wary expression, and Noah leads him to his office. “Have a seat.”

He sits, his hands resting on his knees, a blank expression on his face.

“You’re not in trouble,” Noah says. “But Stiles is joining us tonight. It’s not safe for you to do so, but after the full moon, you will have the opportunity to take the bite. If you opt not to, it won’t change your place in the pack, because you have one.”

“I want it,” Boyd says resolutely. “And I want to be emancipated. Isaac and I have been talking about it.”

Noah is definitely surprised by that. “Okay, if that’s what you want, we can work on that. You live with your grandmother?”

Boyd nods, but doesn’t say anything else.

“We can talk through that some other time,” Noah says. “But I want you to stay inside tonight. I’m not worried about the hunters, and I plan to send Stiles back here after the first part of the evening, but if something happens—“

“I’ll stay here and wait for Stiles to come back,” Boyd replies. “I already told my grandma that I was staying with a friend.”

Noah nods. “All right, get out of here.”

He sets a reminder on his phone to look into Boyd’s sister’s disappearance. With everything that’s been going on, the cold case has been put on the back burner, but Noah needs to know more about Boyd’s home life.

Boyd seems to be the strong and silent type, but Noah has cracked tougher nuts. He knows it’s going to mean getting Boyd alone, though, and he’ll work on that.

Noah calls Paul just to check in. “How are things?”

“Things are good,” Paul replies. “Dave came in to back me up.”

Noah can hear the unspoken question. “After the next full moon.”

Paul breathes a sigh of relief. “Good. We could use the additional support.”

Noah snorts. “I don’t disagree, but let’s proceed cautiously.”

“Oh, for sure,” Paul agrees. “I promise, I won’t contact you tonight unless the world is burning down.”

“I appreciate it,” Noah replies. “And pull the case file on Alicia Boyd’s disappearance, would you?”

Paul hesitates. “You want me to start looking into it?”

“If you have time,” Noah replies. “I won’t say anything about it being a quiet night.”

“You probably already jinxed me,” Paul says sourly. “So, thanks ever so much.”

“Have a good night,” Noah says on a laugh.

Now, they just have to get through the evening.

~~~~~

Derek knows there’s some concern with how everyone will do, but Noah’s house is humming with excitement and good cheer. Derek isn’t interested in playing video games, so he leaves that to the younger pack members and goes to sit in the kitchen to read one of the recommended books for the basic policing course.

Stiles, Moira, and Tara are working on the food—a platter of chicken wings, some sort of melted cheese dip that smells heavenly, and a platter of veggies. Tara is mashing something green with enthusiasm.

“What are you making?” Derek asks.

Tara smirks. “I make a mean guacamole, and smashing avocados is cathartic, so it’s a win all the way around.”

“It’ll get easier,” Derek offers. “In another couple of months, it will probably just be a blip on the radar, if that.”

Tara smiles at him. “Thank you, Derek. Not too long from now, you’ll be wearing a uniform.”

“Yeah, that’s gonna be a little weird,” Stiles mutters, and Derek is confused when his ears turn pink.

Tara exchanges a knowing look with Moira, who just shakes her head with a chuckle. “I’m sure Derek will look wonderful in uniform,” Moira says, smirking.

Stiles goes even redder, but he doesn’t say anything as he chops tomatoes.

Derek shoots a questioning look at Moira, and she just shakes her head.

“Are you going to be okay with the pack tonight?” Derek asks.

Stiles pulls an amulet from under his shirt. “Moira says I will be.”

“And I’ll be there,” Moira says. “The day I can’t handle a pack of werewolves during the full moon is the day you’ll find me six feet under.”

Derek believes her; he’d seen how she dealt with the hunters not all that long ago.

“I aspire to be half the badass that you are,” Stiles declares, his blush starting to fade.

Tara gives him a look. “You’re going to need self-defense lessons, Stiles. Forget lacrosse. Take up judo or krav maga.”

Stiles seems to deflate. “Yeah, I know. It’s not like I’ll get a chance to play with Jackson and three werewolves on the team anyway.”

“You have your magic studies, too,” Moira reminds him. “You don’t need to overload your plate.”

Stiles just shrugs. “It’s fine. Tara is right. Self-defense is more useful, so I’m considering dropping lacrosse.”

Moira pulls him in to drop a kiss on his temple. “I’m proud of you, Stiles.”

Stiles flushes and smiles. “Yeah, well.”

Derek privately thinks that the combination of Noah being in on the secret and Moira’s presence has been really good for Stiles. Moira adds an energy to the pack that’s stabilizing.

“Can you stay forever?” Derek blurts out.

Moira’s eyes twinkle, and she busses his cheek as well. “I’ll stay just as long as I’m needed, and then I might retire here.”

“Dad might need bossing around,” Stiles says.

Moira laughs. “And I am an expert in bossing people around.” She leans over Stiles’ shoulder. “Those are very pretty knife cuts, Stiles.”

“I may have watched a few videos on YouTube,” Stiles admits.

“Good job, keep it up,” Moira replies.

Derek had grown up in a pack with a strong maternal presence, between his mom, grandma, and older sister. In comparison, Noah’s pack has a very masculine energy, but Moira and Tara’s presence help bring balance.

Boyd wanders in, and asks, “Can I help?”

“You can chop the cilantro,” Moira says. “I won’t be so cruel as to make you chop the onion.”

“Appreciated,” Boyd says dryly.

Derek keeps reading, letting the background noise wash over him. He’s reminded of full moons when his family was still alive. It was traditional to make a big meal, to eat together, and then to run through the Preserve. The energy is high, but it’s more anticipatory than anything else.

Isaac, Scott, and Erica wander in and out, stealing a veggie or two from the tray, until it’s time to sit and eat.

They all pile around the dining room table, and the kids fall on the food like they haven’t eaten in a week. Derek groans when he takes a bite of Tara’s guacamole.

“Told you,” she says, sounding smug.

“It’s amazing,” Stiles agrees. “So good.”

Everything is good, and there’s nothing left by the time everyone finishes eating, pushing back from the table with contented groans.

There’s another reason to greet the full moon with a full belly—a satiated wolf is a lazy wolf.

“I can do the dishes,” Boyd offers. “Let you all get to it.”

“That’s kind of you,” Noah replies. “Thank you, Boyd. Stiles—“

“I’ll be driving separately,” Stiles says. “And heading back here immediately after my business is complete.”

Scott frowns. “What business? I thought Stiles was going to stay here with Boyd.”

“There’s some pack business to take care of,” Noah says mildly. “And that requires Stiles’ presence. I’m sure he’ll fill Boyd in when he returns.”

Scott’s gulp is audible, and Derek figures that Scott has an idea of just what the pack business is going to entail.

Derek drives Erica and Scott to the Preserve, and Scott asks from the backseat, “What’s the pack business?”

“If Noah wanted you to know, he would have told you,” Derek replies mildly. “And he didn’t give me permission to share.”

Scott slumps in the backseat. “I haven’t had any contact with Allison!”

“You shouldn’t have responded to her texts to begin with,” Derek replies, and Erica twists around from the front passenger seat to flick Scott on the nose.

“Ow!” Scott says. “What was that for?”

“For being a dumbass,” Erica replies. “Come on, dude. Your ex-girlfriend helped kidnap your best friend, and you just started talking to her again?”

Scott shifts. “You don’t understand! It’s Allison.”

“I understand that there are plenty of fish in the sea who haven’t committed felonies!” Erica replies.

“Truth,” Derek mutters.

Scott leans his head against the window and groans. “Why can’t Stiles just yell at me in private?”

“Maybe because what you did affected the entire pack,” Derek suggests.

Scott sighs.

“This is going to be fun,” Erica says brightly, with a definite edge of sarcasm.

“It’s going to be fine,” Derek replies firmly. “Pack business is always handled this way.”

Derek parks next to Noah at the trailhead, and Stiles pulls up beside him, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his hoodie. He trudges into the woods with barely a glance at anyone, and Erica takes a couple of quick steps to put her arm through Stiles’.

“You okay, Doctor Strange?” she asks.

Stiles leans into her. “Five by five, Catwoman.”

Derek follows them, feeling Scott walking behind, dragging his feet. When they cross the perimeter into the clearing, Derek can feel the difference in the air. Erica and Tara immediately relax, and Derek feels—

Well, he feels Stiles, like Stiles is holding the pack.

“Is that you?” Erica asks, wonder in her voice.

“It’s partly me,” Stiles replies. “Some of it is Moira.”

Moira snorts. “I walked you through it, but that was all you, young spark.”

“I can feel it,” Tara says. “It’s interesting.”

Derek makes sure that Stiles stays between him and Erica. She’s protective of him, and Derek knows how important it is to keep Stiles safe. Isaac is sticking close to Noah, obviously seeking the comfort of his Alpha.

The rest of the pack form a rough circle, and Scott stands across from Stiles, chin lifted and arms crossed tightly over his chest.

Stiles just stares at him, and then he looks at his dad.

“However you want to play this,” Noah says. “It’s up to you.”

Stiles’ jaw works, and then he just sighs. “You really hurt my feelings, dude, and I’m mad at you. I’ll get over it eventually, but it’s going to take me time.”

That causes Scott to drop his defenses, and his arms drop as he hangs his head. “I’m really sorry.”

Stiles nods. “Yeah, I’m sure you are, but I think you’re mostly sorry that you got caught.”

Scott looks away. “I know what she did to you, okay? It was shitty, and I—it’s not fair that she targeted you.”

“Thanks for saying that,” Stiles replies. “That’s it. That’s all I really want to say about it.”

“Hug it out?” Scott suggests.

For a moment, Derek thinks Stiles might refuse, but then he shrugs. “Yeah, sure.”

Scott pulls Stiles in for a hug and whispers, “I really am sorry. It was shitty of me to put the pack in jeopardy.”

“Just don’t do it again,” Stiles replies, clapping him on the back, but the gesture seems half-hearted. There’s no way that Stiles is over it just like that, but at least he’s cleared the air.

Stiles waves at everyone as he leaves the clearing, and Erica moves closer to Derek. “How is it that it feels so much better here?” she asks. “I don’t feel like I want to crawl out of my own skin.”

“Stiles wanted to make sure that the pack is taken care of,” Moira says. “And he put every bit of belief and faith into making sure that happened.”

Derek doesn’t know as much about magic as he would like, but that rings a bell, and he realizes that Stiles is a fucking spark. He keeps his mouth shut, because he knows just enough to know that sparks have to be handled carefully.

Moira catches his eye and gives a brief nod.

“Right,” Derek mutters.

Erica shoots him a questioning look, but Derek just shakes his head. He’s not about to open that can of worms.

“For those of you who are feeling steady, we have the run of the Preserve,” Noah says. “For those who aren’t, the clearing is a safe space.”

Derek is anxious to run, but he also knows that Tara and Erica are in a vulnerable place.

“Can I run?” Erica asks. “At least a little bit?”

“Derek, stay with her,” Noah says. “You can get her back here if necessary?”

Derek nods. “Not a problem if Scott is with me.”

Scott nods reluctantly. “Yeah, okay.”

Noah smirks. “Feel free to drill some sense into his head while you’re at it.”

That leaves Noah and Moira with Tara and Isaac, but they both look fairly relaxed. Tara is sprawled out on the ground, hands behind her head, looking up at the stars. Isaac is wandering around the clearing, sniffing the air, his face shifting back and forth.

“Seriously, sir, your kid is amazing,” Tara says.

Noah sits down next to her. “He really is, isn’t he?”

“Let’s run,” Derek says.

Scott struggles with control, too, but they spend the evening running through the Preserve, with frequent breaks in the clearing.

At one point, Scott asks him, “Have I ruined things with Stiles?”

“You’re as close to a brother as Stiles has,” Derek replies. “You think I wouldn’t give my right arm to get my sister or any of my family members back?”

They’re not in the clearing, but are taking a break just outside of it to see how Scott, Erica, and Isaac do without the warding. So far, they seem to be okay, but the full moon is beginning to set.

Erica stretches out on the ground, crossing her legs at the ankle. “Derek’s right. Stiles will forgive you—if you stop being a dumb shit.”

Scott covers his face with his hands. “I know I can’t have contact with Allison, okay?”

Derek glares at him. “Yes, we know that you know. But it’s not about Allison or her plea deal. You get that, right? She betrayed the pack.”

“I know!” Scott moans. “Of course, I know. She betrayed me, too! She—she hurt my best friend! She didn’t even care what that would do to me.”

“Oh, my god, he can learn!” Derek exclaims.

“Fuck off,” Scott replies. “But I still love her.”

Erica sits up. “Loving someone isn’t dependent on their good behavior, Scott. My parents have not been especially great, but I still love them.”

“What Erica said,” Isaac says. “She’s right. I feel similarly about my dad.”

Scott stretches out. “Why does it feel so much better being out here?”

Derek hears the howl from Noah, and the answer from Tara. He tilts his head back and howls his response. The others follow suit, and when the howls subside, Derek says, “Because this is how it’s meant to be, and we don’t have to worry about the hunters at the moment.”

If Noah is successful, they might not have to worry about them ever again.

~~~~~

Stiles lets himself into the house and hears the call from Boyd. “How did everything go?”

He can’t blame Boyd for being a bit anxious. He wants the bite, and will soon get it if he doesn’t change his mind. “It went well,” Stiles replies. “I told Scott I was really disappointed in him, and then we hugged it out.”

Boyd gives Stiles a look that has the tinge of horror. “Did you use those words?”

“Pretty much,” Stiles replies, and goes into the kitchen to grab a soda. He’s not quite ready to go to bed yet.

Boyd is still looking at him. “What?”

“I think you just channeled the Sheriff,” Boyd says.

Stiles laughs. “Well, I might want kids someday, but I’ll be the emissary for sure, which means I’ll need to be able to glare werewolves into submission.”

“Are you okay?” Boyd asks.

Stiles shrugs. “It’s not the first or the last time that Scott and I will have our differences. We’ll be fine once I get over being mad.”

Stiles really does believe that. He loves Scott more than just about anyone other than his dad. Eventually, this whole thing will be something they laugh about, but that’s probably at least a few months away.

“Fair,” Boyd says. “I would feel the same way.”

Stiles takes a deep breath. “Video games or a movie? I’m not ready to go to bed.”

“Movie,” Boyd says definitively.

“Preference?” Stiles asks.

Boyd tilts his chin up. “Do you have Star Wars?”

Stiles gives him a look. “Of course. Where do we start?”

Boyd gives him a deeply unimpressed look. “A New Hope, of course.”

“A man after my own heart,” Stiles replies, and he grabs the DVD.

Stiles kind of wants to cuddle, but he’s not there with Boyd yet, and he isn’t a wolf.

Boyd scoots a little closer, though, until their shoulders are touching. He doesn’t look at Stiles as he does it.

Stiles slumps against the cushions. “You still want it?”

“More than ever,” Boyd replies. He pauses. “Your dad is really great, you know?”

Stiles smiles. “Yeah, I do know. I never wanted to tell him about this, but he’s handled it like a boss.”

Boyd shakes his head. “You’re an idiot.”

“Probably,” Stiles admits. “I’m not mad that Dad found out about things now.”

“I’m glad he’s the one in charge,” Boyd admits. “He makes me feel safe.”

“Better him than Scott or Derek,” Stiles agrees. Stiles honestly can’t imagine Derek as an Alpha, at least not right now. He’s great as a right hand, but Stiles is pretty sure Derek is glad to follow someone else’s lead. It would make sense, since his mom was the Alpha, and then his sister.

But as a right hand, Derek seems content, even though Stiles isn’t really looking at him like a brother.

Derek is hot like burning. Stiles isn’t immune to said hotness, even though he knows better than to go there.

“You’re blushing,” Boyd says flatly.

Stiles scowls and presses play. “Watch the movie.”

Boyd actually laughs at that, and he leans into Stiles a little harder as the opening theme to Star Wars begins, and the title card comes up.

Stiles falls asleep halfway through, although he’s not sure when. One moment he’s finished his soda, and the next he’s waking up on the couch. He’s not sure where everyone is, but he feels a callused hand rub his head. “How are you?”

Stiles blinks gummy eyes to see his dad looking at him. “Good, I think. Where’s Boyd?”

“Pretty sure he’s in your bedroom,” his dad replies, clearly amused. “He left you here on the couch, although he did at least put a blanket over you.”

“We were watching Star Wars,” Stiles mutters. “How did the wards work?”

“They worked great, kiddo,” his dad says fondly. “Moira says you’re a natural.”

“Better be,” Stiles says, feeling his eyes sliding shut again. “Don’t wanna accidentally end the world.”

“I trust your heart,” his dad murmurs. “Go back to sleep, Stiles. You still have a couple of hours.”

Stiles has no problem doing that, but he’s glad that his dad is home. “The rest of the pack?”

“Here and safe,” his dad assures him. “Good job with Scott.”

That reassurance is enough to send Stiles back to sleep, and he wakes up to the smell of bacon. Stiles can’t even be mad about it; his dad’s cholesterol is no longer a concern.

“We’re working on breakfast sandwiches,” his dad calls. “Go ahead and get cleaned up. My bathroom is free.”

Stiles rolls off the couch and up to his feet, and he does feel better having confronted Scott. The anger doesn’t feel so overwhelming, and Stiles grabs fresh clothing and a quick shower in his dad’s bedroom.

He likes using his dad’s products, which are just slightly different than his own. It’s a little weird, maybe, but he’s learning just how powerful scent is.

The thing is, Stiles hated lying to his dad, and now his dad knows, and he’s being a boss, and Stiles—

Stiles loves him for it.

There’s a breakfast sandwich assembly line situation going on in the kitchen when Stiles gets there. Erica is manning the toaster, Scott has the butter, the bacon is in the oven, and his dad and Derek are frying eggs in a two-man team at the stove. Boyd and Isaac are cutting up fruit, and that doesn’t leave much for Stiles to do.

Although, when he checks the coffee pot, he finds it almost dry, so he pours the rest into the cup next to his dad’s elbow and starts the pot again.

“Where are Tara and Moira?” Stiles asks.

“Both of them left to get cleaned up,” his dad replies. “They’ll be here shortly. You want to pull the bacon out of the oven?”

Derek and his dad move aside, and Stiles pulls the bacon out and puts it on a paper-towel lined plate. He grabs the cheese slices and condiments from the fridge, and then everyone starts to assemble their own sandwiches.

It’s not like they’ve had a ton of mornings like this, but Stiles is starting to think they’re going to need a bigger house if the rest of the pack is going to sleep over a lot.

Tara and Moira arrive together, just as his dad and Derek finish up the last of the eggs. Stiles puts eggs on the grocery list hanging on the fridge without being asked.

“I can make a grocery run after school today,” Stiles offers.

“I can take that,” Derek says. “It’s not a problem. I can make dinner tonight, too.”

“I’ll help,” Tara offers. “It’s not like I’m doing anything else today.”

Noah glances at her. “I’ll put in the paperwork for you to come back, since you did so well. After the next full moon, we’ll bring Dave in.”

Tara nods. “I think he’ll take it well, to be honest. There really isn’t anyone at the station I have serious concerns about. They’re all loyal to you.”

“We don’t have anyone who might be sympathetic to the hunters?” Noah presses.

Tara shakes her head. “No, but you might ask Paul today. He said he was going to be sniffing around.”

“Probably literally,” Stiles comments.

Tara smiles at him. “He says that hunters smell like gunpowder and aconite, so yes.”

“Are you good with helping get the kids to school today?” Noah asks Derek.

Derek shrugs. “Sure, no big deal.”

They all finish up their sandwiches, and then it’s a mad scramble to get out the door. Stiles doesn’t mind that Scott climbs into the passenger seat of Roscoe, or that Erica gets into the backseat. Isaac and Boyd go with Derek in his Camaro.

“Are we okay?” Scott asks anxiously.

Stiles figures that Scott had probably talked with Erica last night if he’s willing to talk about it in front of her. “We have fought before, you know,” Stiles points out.

“This feels different,” Scott says anxiously.

Stiles sighs. “Have you thought about the fact that it’s not actually about us, and it’s about the pack?”

Scott is silent for a really long time. “No. But—yeah, that’s what it is.”

“Dad forgave you for being a dumbass, and so have the rest of us,” Stiles replies. “Just don’t do it again.”

Stiles is definitely feeling better after having it out in front of everyone Scott could have harmed with his choices. Moira had been right about that.

Scott sighs. “I get it.”

“Why would you want to date someone who hates you, anyway?” Erica asks.

“She doesn’t hate me!” Scott protests.

“She hates what you are,” Erica points out.

Scott turns to glare at her. “No, she doesn’t. Her family hates what I am.”

Erica raises her eyebrows. “And if they hated you for being Latino? Would you be willing to ask her to break things off with her family and never talk to them again?”

Stiles doesn’t think that anyone has asked Scott that question, or put it just in that way.

“No, of course not,” Scott says. “Allison loves her parents.”

“So, you’re okay with them tearing you down and threatening to kill you,” Erica says flatly. “And you’re okay with Allison letting them do that.”

Scott shakes his head. “That’s not what would happen.”

“What if they went after Stiles again because he can do magic?” Erica presses.

“I wouldn’t let them!” Scott protests.

Erica just stares at him.

Scott slumps against the passenger door. “Fuck. It’s never going to work, is it?”

“Congratulations, you no longer sound like a dumbass,” Erica says, throwing up her hands. “I’m not saying that it will never work, but you need to be realistic. Romeo and Juliet is not a how-to manual.”

Stiles cracks up at that. “I kind of love you.”

“I kind of love you, too, Doctor Strange,” Erica replies.

“Do you think we need to still be worried about the Argents?” Scott asks.

“Not if they don’t want to land in a jail cell alongside bad grandpa and psycho Kate,” Stiles mutters. “And if they do give us any trouble, we’re going to respond accordingly. I should probably talk to Moira about curses.”

He’s pretty sure she’s not going to be down to teach him how to curse someone, even if it is an Argent.

But it never hurts to ask.

Stiles parks, and they walk in together. Isaac and Boyd are waiting for them right outside, and Stiles knows they probably look like what they are—a pack.

Lydia gives them all a disdainful glance as she and Jackson pass them on their way inside. “I see the losers’ club is in session.”

“Always and forever,” Stiles replies cheerfully. “And you can join us any time.”

Lydia sniffs. “No, thank you.”

“Well, we’ll be here if you change your mind!” Stiles says cheerfully.

“Why on earth would you want her to join us?” Erica hisses.

Stiles shrugs. “I don’t know. I have a feeling about her, that’s all. She feels—sort of magic-y.”

“That’s not a word,” Boyd says, and he sounds very judge-y.

“It is, because I just made it up,” Stiles replies.

“What Stiles said,” Scott says. “I like the word.”

Scott’s basically supercharged to agree with him right now, but Stiles will take it. “Hey, maybe I have another superpower?”

“Don’t get a big head,” Isaac replies. “You only get one superpower.”

“Maybe I’m like a super-Skrull!” Stiles says.

Isaac puts him into a headlock as Stiles cackles, but nothing is going to dent Stiles’ happiness.

Stiles probably shouldn’t have allowed that thought to cross his mind.

~~~~~

Noah walks into the station for his usual shift. He’s back on days—not that it means anything, since he rarely keeps regular hours. Tara insisted on accompanying him, since Noah is going to sign off on her returning the following week.

Paul and Dave are bleary-eyed and drinking coffee at their desks. Noah left Paul in charge overnight with Dave as backup, and they both grin when they see Tara.

“How is it that you look better than you did before you got shot?” Dave demands, holding out his arms for a hug.

Tara obliges with a laugh. “I don’t know about that.”

“I do,” Paul says, and claims his own hug. “You look phenomenal. It’s like you’re glowing.”

Of course, Paul’s in the know, and he gives Tara a sly wink.

The commotion has alerted the rest of his deputies, both the ones coming on shift and going off. The response is just as positive from everyone, and they’re all excited to see her looking so well.

“When are you coming back?” Mark asks eagerly.

Tara smiles. “The boss says Monday. I got through my last checkup with flying colors.”

“Only you would get shot and then come back in no time flat,” Mark says cheerfully. “I thought you’d be out for months.”

Tara shrugs. “I’m just lucky the sheriff got here when he did. Otherwise, I would have bled out.”

“Well, I would have hated to lose my favorite deputy,” Noah jokes.

That gets a chorus of “heys” from his other deputies, but Tara shrugs. “You all know it’s true.”

“Just for that, you can take the night shift out to breakfast,” Paul says. “Since you’re coming back to work next week.”

Tara shrugs. “I think I can handle breakfast since the boss fed me.”

Paul raises his eyebrows. “You still running a home for wayward teenagers, sir?”

Noah snorts. “It keeps me young.”

“Keep telling yourself that, sir,” Dave says. “You’re not getting any younger.”

“Get out of here, you’re off the clock,” Noah orders. “Tara, do your best to keep them out of trouble.”

Tara smirks at him. “This is why I’m your favorite.”

“It’s a big factor,” Noah admits.

Maria enters the station, running just a bit late as usual. “Oh, Tara! You look awesome! How are you doing?”

“Great,” Tara says. “We need to get coffee soon.”

“Are you coming back?” Maria asks. “Because you’ve been sorely missed. Although, you shouldn’t come back before you’re ready.”

“Monday,” Tara replies. “I’m ready, and I have a clean bill of health.”

Maria hugs her quickly. “I’m glad to hear it.”

The whole exchange reminds Noah of why he loves his job and his people. Derek is going to fit in well, and Noah has to admit that the station feels like a different sort of pack house.

And he really might need to consider getting a bigger place. He just doesn’t know if that’s going to be feasible.

“All right, what have we got going on today, Mark?” Noah asks.

Mark nods. “I have the briefing ready for you, sir.”

“Let’s go into my office,” Noah replies.

The report is fairly short. One instance of criminal mischief and a couple of interrupted drug buys, but things have been quiet since they captured the Argents.

“Any peep out of the Argents?” Noah asks.

Mark shakes his head. “As far as we know, they’ve picked up stakes and moved to Sweetwater. The girl has to report her whereabouts to the court, so that’s how we know where they are. They’d be stupid to do anything other than hunker down.”

“I’m not putting much faith in the Argents’ common sense,” Noah replies dryly. “I’ll call the sheriff of the county, though, make sure they’re keeping an eye out. They’re about as short staffed as we are, so I doubt they’ll be able to do much.”

Mark clears his throat. “Are we hiring, sir? I know the budget is a concern, but—“

“Derek Hale got into the basic course,” Noah says. “He’ll come on as a reserve officer as soon as he’s cleared to do so. I plan on asking him to keep an eye out for potentials. They won’t have experience, but the fresh blood will be good in its own way.”

Mark, who probably has ten years on Noah, just laughs. “You partner one of them with me, would you? They can be the one to chase after a suspect, and I’ll play the tired, old cop.”

Noah laughs at that. “Yeah. Appreciate the report and the info, Mark.”

Mark nods, but he hesitates on his way out the door. “Look, Sheriff, we all know there’s more going on than a wolf-hybrid or a cougar that’s lost its fear of people. Stiles probably should have died at Kate Argent’s hands, and we’re all really glad he didn’t, but that’s some supernatural shit right there.”

Noah frowns. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that when you want to tell us what kind of weird shit is going on, it won’t matter to us,” Mark says. “You saved Tara’s life. We don’t know how you did it, but you did.”

Noah takes a deep breath. “I’d have done the same for any of you.”

“Which is why we’d follow to hell and back,” Mark replies. “And we might not know exactly what’s going on, but something is.”

Noah nods slowly. “You’re right. Something is. You’re smart enough to know that. I don’t hire idiots.”

“No, you don’t,” Mark replies. “You should loop Dave in first. He and Paul have a thing.”

Noah chuckles. “Yeah, I know. I’m just glad they work well together, and what I don’t know—or take official notice of—won’t hurt anyone.”

Mark tips his head. “You see a lot when you decide to, Sheriff.”

Noah takes a deep breath. “Yeah, you could say that. I’m really glad I started to pay attention.”

Noah remembers the tenor of Stiles’ voice that had pinged his radar, when he’d known Stiles was lying, and had decided to find the root cause. He could have dismissed it. Stiles is a teenager, and Noah is used to Stiles either outright lying or shading the truth. He could have very easily chalked it up to Stiles’ usual shenanigans.

He hadn’t, though. Some instinct had been activated, and he would be forever grateful. He doesn’t know what might have happened, but he can’t imagine that the outcome would have been better.

“When we pay attention, we learn things,” Mark replies. “My old gunnery sergeant used to say that to me. He wasn’t wrong.”

“No,” Noah agrees. “He wasn’t wrong.” He pauses, and then he says, “Soon, I promise. There are a few things I need to get past first.”

Mark nods. “I’ll pass along the word. Just remember, sir, we’ll follow you.”

Noah isn’t entirely sure what to do with that, but he’s grateful for it.

When he’s alone, he shoots off a text to Melissa. I think I might be able to get the whole station. How are your recruitment efforts going?

He doesn’t expect an immediate reply, but then he gets, The surgeon who attended Tara has questions, and he seems open, as do a couple of nurses and the doctor who stitched up Stiles. Not sure I can get the whole hospital behind me, though.

“Fair,” Noah says out loud. Good start, is what he texts back.

Noah still isn’t sure how he’s going to turn Beacon Hills into a sanctuary, but he thinks they’re taking steps in the right direction.

Starting with the boys, as he’s begun thinking of them.

When Noah gets home that night, he’s not surprised to see the whole pack gathered, including Melissa. Her presence is unexpected, but he’s glad to see her.

“Noah,” she says, pulling him in for a quick hug. “I’m sorry for gate-crashing, but my curiosity got the better of me.”

Noah smiles. “It’s good to have you here. I hope we don’t need a medical professional, but we might.”

“Let’s hope not,” Melissa replies.

Noah is used to having the whole pack around by now, and it’s easy to greet Stiles with a hug, Derek with a shoulder-clap, Scott with a ruffle of his hair, and Erica with a side-hug.

Moira smiles at him. “I have a ham in the oven. I thought it might be cause for celebration.”

Boyd is staring at him with as much eagerness as he’s ever shown. Noah is glad that Moira had thought to have a celebration, given that they’re really welcoming several new pack members.

“We’re just waiting on Tara and Paul,” Noah says. “They wanted to be here, too.”

Thankfully, they don’t have to wait long. Tara and Paul arrive together a few minutes later, and greetings are exchanged with them, too.

“I have to admit that I’m curious to see this from the other side of things,” Tara says. “Although I was pretty much unconscious when it took effect.”

“If all goes according to plan, you’re just going to see me biting Boyd, and then we’ll eat dinner together,” Noah replies.

Paul shakes Noah’s hand, and they use the opportunity to scent each other. Noah has decided not to find that weird. It’s a work in progress.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Paul admits. “Sorry I invited myself along.”

“Mark said he’d stay longer to back up Dave,” Noah replies. “And that we ought to come clean sooner rather than later.”

Tara shakes her head. “You should have known he’d figure something out, sir. He’s a Marine, but he’s a smart one.”

Noah snorts. He and Mark give each other shit all the time about their respective branches of service, and the rest of the station has picked up on that. “I do know that. It’s why he was hired in the first place. Let’s get Boyd through the next full moon, and then we’ll read in the rest of the station.”

Tara nods. “Makes sense to me.”

Boyd steps up, his dark eyes solemn. “I’m sure,” he says without prompting.

“Still sure about the emancipation, too?” Noah asks.

Boyd nods. “I have the pack now.”

“You do,” Noah replies. “And you always will.”

Boyd holds out his arm, and Noah pulls out his Alpha, biting down as gently as he can. Scott bandages him up, and there’s this moment of silence as they all stare at each other.

“Let’s eat,” Moira says. “We can keep an eye on Boyd while we do.”

Erica glomps onto Boyd. “Oh, my god, this is amazing!” Erica says.

Noah catches a bit of a wistful look from Stiles, and he wants to go to him, but he sees Derek sling an arm over Stiles’ shoulders and whisper something in his ear that makes Stiles laugh a little. Noah thinks Derek said something about the pack only having one emissary.

There’s just enough room for the whole pack at the table with all the leaves in, and if they expand, as they’re planning to do, Noah knows they’ll need more room. Moira pulls the food out of the oven, and they leave it in the kitchen to allow everyone to serve themselves.

Moira has a spiral cut ham, a large pan of potatoes au gratin, and green beans stewed with bacon, along with rolls. The kids fall on the food as though they’re starving, and Noah sidles up to Moira. “This is awesome. You really have outdone yourself.”

Moira shakes her head. “You were able to lead the pack through a full moon without issue, and you have several new pack members. That’s worthy of celebration.”

“Still, you wouldn’t have had to cook for us,” Noah replies. “I could have ordered something.”

Moira shakes her head. “You’re not the sort of Alpha to suddenly become entirely domesticated, but sitting down and eating together—and not just over take-out—is important to forming bonds. Between Stiles and Derek, you’ll be taken care of in that respect.”

“And you’re providing that example,” he says knowingly.

“And maybe a few recipes along the way,” Moira agrees. “Stiles has a natural tendency to take care of the people he cares about, and a ruthless streak for those he doesn’t.”

Noah knows that all too well “He would make a good wolf in that respect.”

Moira shakes her head. “Magical power doesn’t always react well with the bite. Maybe, in the future, once his his power has completely settled, you could offer it to him. Right now, he just feels a bit left out.”

Noah frowns, thinking about that. “Well, I think I know something I could do to fix that. I might take him to the firing range.”

“Take Derek, too,” Moira advises. “It will help him, but beyond that, it will help cement their places in the pack.”

Noah is willing to take her advice, and he can see her point. He knows that Derek is a little uncertain about his place in the pack with Tara and Paul being with him at the station.

Still, he’s going to make it a point of taking Stiles out to dinner after his next therapy appointment. They should spend some time with just the two of them. He hadn’t been doing enough of that before he knew what was going on.

“Dad, are you going to eat?” Stiles calls. “No one’s gonna start until you get a plate.”

“Go ahead,” Noah says. “The cook shouldn’t be the last to eat.”

Moira pats his shoulder. “You make an excellent Alpha.”

Noah really hopes so, because he has a feeling that they’re experiencing the calm before the storm.

~~~~~

Stiles likes the feeling of Derek’s arm over his shoulders, pulling him close. He knows that the pack is expanding, that relationships are changing, and that actually helps his anger with Scott.

His life is no longer defined solely by his relationship with his dad and Scott, and his relationship with his dad is better than ever. Plus, he has Derek and Moira, and the rest of the pack as well.

Stiles can be angry at Scott without it feeling like the end of the world. Eventually, things will normalize, and they’ll be fine again. In the meantime, Stiles has more family than he really knows what to do with.

Derek says in his ear, “You hold a certain position in the pack. You’re Noah’s favorite son.”

That causes Stiles to laugh, and he goes to fill his plate once the food is ready. Tonight, he winds up tucked between Moira and his dad, with Stiles sitting on his dad’s left hand, Derek on his right and across from Stiles.

“I need to talk to you both after dinner,” Moira says, glancing first at Noah, then at Stiles. “It’s nothing bad, but I do have some interesting information.”

Noah nods. “My office. We’ll let the others handle the dishes.”

With so many ‘wolves present, they don’t have a lot left over. Stiles thinks they might have enough for a few ham sandwiches, but that’s about it.

They’re really going to have to discuss the food budget soon. And a bigger place.

Stiles allows himself to be ushered into his dad’s office by Moira, his dad closing the door behind them.

“I have to admit to being wildly curious,” Noah confesses as he sits down behind his desk.

“The information just came in this afternoon,” Moira says. She looks at Stiles. “I haven’t been able to come up with any information on your mother’s side of the family, mo chroi. Or, rather, I have a lot of information on a number of Gajos, but nothing that I can definitively tie to her or her family.”

Stiles nods. He doesn’t remember his mom ever talking about her family, but it’s possible that she hadn’t known very much either. Perhaps she didn’t know much for a reason.

His dad appears to be mentally bracing himself. “But my family?”

“Both of your parents were Polish?” Moira asks.

His dad shrugs. “I’m not actually sure. My mom was, but my dad’s history was a little more obscured. He swore that their name was altered at Ellis Island, but, well, I’ve never been that interested in genealogy until now.”

Moira smiles briefly. “From the information you gave me, I’ve been able to trace your mother’s family. Your father’s is a little more elusive, so it’s entirely possible that the name was changed. But it turns out that your mother’s family is absolutely lousy with born wolves. She’s connected to the largest pack in Poland, some 100 strong.”

Stiles whistles. “Oh, man.”

“Your mother is the descendent of a human pack member who left sometime in the mid-1930s and emigrated to the United States,” Moira continues. “So, I think this was baked into your genes.”

“That actually makes me feel better,” Noah admits. “I keep thinking that the other shoe is going to drop and I’ll lose control, but…”

“We know that those with born wolves in their familial line rarely suffer bite rejection, and often respond better when bitten,” Moira says. “It’s for that reason that even human pack members are offered the bite in some packs.”

“Not in that pack, though,” Noah comments.

Moira shrugs. “According to the Nowak emissary, they are, but not when they choose to marry someone someone who wasn’t approved by the Alpha.”

Noah grimaces but says, “Well, that just makes sense.”

Moira laughs. “You say that as an Alpha.”

“I feel the same way,” Stiles admits. “I’m not saying that we should completely shun someone who makes an unsuitable match, but…”

Noah nods. “The pack has to come first.”

Moira hums. “Well, those instincts run deep. Obviously. Their emissary has not invited contact at this time, but we plan to stay in touch. If that changes, and you’re interested, I’ll let you know.”

“Maybe,” his dad allows. “We’ll see how things go.”

Moira nods. “I’ll keep working the other angles, but I’m going to head home. Good night, both of you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She leaves, and Stiles stares at his dad. “Derek was right.”

His dad laughs. “Yeah, he was at that. Apparently, I do come from a long line of born wolves. I’m sorry Moira couldn’t find out more information about Claudia’s family.”

Stiles just shakes his head. “Gajos is a really common surname in Poland. I’ve done a bit of my own research, but that complicates things.”

“I should have known you’d do your own research,” his dad admits. “All right, now we know. What do you say we take Derek to the firing range this coming weekend?”

Stiles blinks. “Just the three of us?”

His dad smiles. “Yeah, just the three of us. You did great against Kate and Peter, and I want to be sure that you can continue to pick up a gun to protect yourself if necessary. And Derek is going to have to be comfortable with a weapon.”

Stiles feels cautiously optimistic. “If you’re too busy—“

“I know we both have the pack, Stiles, but you’re my kid,” his dad says. “And I haven’t done a good enough job at making time for you.”

Stiles shakes his head reflexively. “No, Dad, that’s not true.”

“It is true,” Noah insists. “So, we’re going to the range on Saturday.”

“Yeah, okay,” Stiles replies.

And they do go, and it’s good. Stiles remembers all the lessons his dad has imparted, and so he gets to be better at something than Derek, and his dad is full of warm praise.

Stiles had no idea how much he’d been missing his dad’s attention, but it feels good.

Better than good. And maybe, he thinks, magic might be baked into his blood the same way being a werewolf had been baked into his dad’s.

Maybe this is what Stiles was always meant to be.

Chapter 3

Derek takes a deep breath as he pulls up in front of the training center. He’s been preparing as much as he could over the last two weeks, reading the manuals and other materials recommended both by Noah and the list of books he’d received along with his acceptance letter.

He climbs out of his car, feeling a frisson of nerves. His plan is to do the extended modular training, which will allow him to work as a reserve officer after the second module, and should give him plenty of time to spend with the pack in between the online classes he’s taking to finish his BA.

He’ll be required to wear a uniform, but they apparently make them available for students to purchase during orientation. Derek hopes he doesn’t stand out too much in his jeans and black t-shirt with his usual leather jacket.

Derek finds his way into the building, following the directions that came in the orientation packet. As he reaches the door, he hears footsteps behind him, and he looks over his shoulder to see a man about his age approaching. “Are you going to the orientation?” Derek asks, holding the door for him.

“Yeah, thanks,” the man replies. He has light brown hair and green eyes, and he wears a friendly expression. “Jordan Parrish, but everyone calls me Parrish.”

“Derek Hale,” Derek replies. “Are you doing the extended modular program, too?”

“Yeah, first module,” Parrish says. “I couldn’t afford to do the intensive. Gotta keep my day job, you know?”

Derek doesn’t know, but he says, “Yeah, I’m trying to finish up my BA, so I get it.”

“What’s your degree in?” Parrish asks, and takes a seat next to Derek.

“Sociology,” Derek replies. “It got interrupted for a family emergency.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Parrish offers. “Are you being sponsored by a particular department?”

Derek shrugs. “Sort of, unofficially. I have the promise of a job offer from the sheriff of Beacon County.”

Parrish perks up at that. “Are they hiring more people? I’ve heard good things about Sheriff Stilinski. He had that big case with the Argents that involved a kidnapping, right? And the FBI?”

Derek isn’t surprised that Parrish knows about the case. It had been huge regional news, plus made national news, and the fact that a deputy was shot in the chest and lived had just been the cherry on top of the shit sundae.

“That’s the one,” Derek replies.

Parrish frowns. “His kid was the one kidnapped, right? How’s he doing, do you know?”

“Yeah, I’m friends with the family,” Derek says. “And he’s doing a lot better than he was.”

Parrish grimaces. “Poor kid.”

They’re both early, so other students are just beginning to trickle in, followed by a man in uniform, who’s obviously their instructor. He’s wearing a black collared shirt and black pants with black boots.

“Good morning,” the instructor calls at 8 am on the dot. “Please find your seats.”

He and Parrish glance at each other, and while Derek has never really had friends outside his family and pack, he doesn’t mind the idea of having someone else to go through this with.

“Welcome to your orientation, ladies and gentlemen,” the instructor says once everyone has settled down. “I’m Officer Jenkins. We’re pretty formal here, so please proceed accordingly. We have one of the best regional training academies in the area, primarily supplying smaller departments and agencies in northern California. As you all know, this extended modular program allows students to work or go to school at the same time. It does not mean that our standards are lower, however.”

If there’s anything that Derek isn’t worried about, it’s the physical requirements. He fully intends to be at or near the top of the class—without letting on that he has an advantage.

Derek doesn’t have a problem with werewolves playing sports—if they can keep it under wraps. He feels the same way about his performance here.

Orientation is a full day, and by the time they’re done, they have their uniforms, schedule, equipment, and a head full of information and new terminology. The entire class seems a little shellshocked on their way out—or some mixture of shellshocked and excited.

“Hey,” Parrish says as they exit the building. “Do you want to exchange numbers?”

Derek smiles. “Yeah, that would be great. It would be nice to—“

“Kind of have a comrade in arms?” Parrish asks. “For sure. And maybe if I impress you, you’ll put in a good word with Sheriff Stilinski?”

Derek smirks. “If you impress me, sure.”

Parrish holds out his unlocked phone, and Derek exchanges it with his own. He quickly programs his name and number in, and wonders if his read on Parrish is accurate. He hopes it is. Having someone else start at the station at the same time would definitely cut down on the teasing about being a rookie, or would at least spread it around a bit.

Derek is definitely getting a gut feeling that Parrish might be a good fit.

“It was good to meet you, Derek,” Parrish says, holding out a hand.

Derek shakes it willingly. “Good to meet you, too.”

The academy is about an hour away from Beacon Hills, and Derek turns the radio on, keeping the volume low. It’s been over a month since Tara returned to work and Noah bit Boyd. Boyd had come through his first full moon with flying colors, as steady as a werewolf as he had been as a human.

Their pack is filling out and settling down. The addition of Tara and Paul has helped considerably to balance things out.

And, from what Derek understands, the pack is going to get bigger. Noah wanted to wait until after Boyd’s first full moon to tell the rest of the station, to give time for the dust to settle.

Derek grabs his duffel with all the new equipment and uniforms from the backseat and enters the house. It’s a lot quieter than he expects, but he smells something cooking.

“Hey, man,” Stiles says, coming out of the kitchen. “How did it go?”

Derek smirks at him. “I think I made a friend.”

He’s half-joking, but Stiles beams at him. “Yeah? That’s great, Der. Any chance he’s a new recruit?”

“For both the station and the pack,” Derek admits. “He seemed nice, but I guess we’ll see.”

Stiles moves closer and gives him a one-armed hug. “I have stew in the crock pot, and biscuits are in the oven.”

“Where is everyone?” Derek asks.

“Mrs. McCall is vetting a doctor from the hospital with Isaac and Scott, Boyd and Erica are at the movies—although they swear it’s not a date—and Dad, Tara, and Paul are stuck at the station,” Stiles says. “Dad says he’s coming home for dinner, but might have to go back again, depending.”

Derek frowns. “Problems?”

Stiles shrugs. “Maybe. He’s not ready to say, and I didn’t want to press too hard.”

“What about Moira?” Derek asks, setting his bag down and following Stiles into the kitchen.

“She had a client consult in San Francisco and won’t be back until Monday,” Stiles replies. “She says she still has to pay the bills.”

“Therapy?”

Stiles shrugs. “It was fine.”

Derek’s eyes narrow. “It was hard.”

Stiles sighs. “We talked about my mom, so yeah. A little bit.”

Derek leans against the kitchen counter, and watches Stiles with concern. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I think I’ve done all the talking about it that I want to do,” Stiles replies wryly. “I mean, my mom died, and it sucked. And then I almost lost my dad, too, you know? I feel like I’m finally getting a lot of that back. Dad is the Alpha and the sheriff, so I’m not going to get much of his undivided attention, but I have the pack, and that makes up for a lot of it.”

Derek frowns. “But not everything.”

Stiles gives him a look. “No, not everything. But let’s talk about your orientation.”

Derek allows the subject change. “There really isn’t much to talk about. We got lectures on what’s expected out of us, they issued our equipment, and we got our first set of uniforms.”

“Still planning on going through with it?” Stiles asks, stirring the stew and not quite looking at Derek.

“I haven’t changed my mind,” Derek says evenly. “But maybe you aren’t excited about it.”

“I’m jealous,” Stiles blurts out. “I know it’s going to be months yet, but you’re going to be working with Dad, and I just—I wish I could do more.”

Derek doesn’t try to tell Stiles that he’s nuts. There’s no way that Noah is going to allow Stiles to be involved any more than he already is, not while he’s still in high school. “Don’t you have a deposition in Allison’s case coming up? I think you have enough on your plate.”

Stiles worries his bottom lip with his teeth. “Yeah, and what if I screw that up?”

“You just go in there and tell the truth,” Derek reminds him.

“But not the whole truth,” Stiles points out. “And if her lawyer figures out that I’m leaving something out, they’re going to come after me hard.”

Derek knows that Stiles is right, but he points out, “You’ve done well so far, Stiles. It’s possible that her lawyer already knows that you have something more going on. There’s no chance they don’t know about the sheriff, and she might have told her attorney more.”

Stiles swallows audibly. “Yeah, and?”

“And the deposition is going to be a court record,” Derek reminds him. “I know your dad has talked to you about that.”

“That the hunters can’t afford to go public, and wouldn’t do it anyway, because they operate in the dark,” Stiles mutters. “But they attacked a sheriff’s station in broad daylight. I’m not holding out a lot of optimism for their common sense.”

Derek snorts. “That’s fair. The good news is that your dad is wise to their tactics, and he knows how to stay inside the lines, even when they tempt him to cross them.”

“And I can always shoot them,” Stiles mutters.

Derek laughs. “You don’t have a concealed carry permit.”

“Moira and I are working on something,” Stiles replies. “Not bullets, of course, but something.”

“Don’t overdo it,” Derek orders.

Stiles just smirks at him. “I know better. Anything I do reflects on my dad, and they’ll use my transgressions against him. I get it. But if someone were to have a heart attack, well…”

Derek knows how ruthless Stiles can be, and he doesn’t doubt that Stiles could figure out a way to kill someone with just his magic. If they’re threatening the pack or his dad while they’re at it, Derek is pretty sure Stiles won’t even lose sleep over it.

And if anyone could manage to make murder look like an accident or natural causes, it’s going to be Moira and Stiles.

“You two are trouble,” Derek mutters. “Just remember to maintain plausible deniability.”

“Aw, big words!” Stiles teases. “Did you learn that in the academy orientation?”

Derek grabs for him, but Stiles dances out of the way, cackling. Derek makes another grab, and it probably would have devolved into gentle wrestling—gentle on Derek’s part anyway—except that the front door opens, and Noah calls, “Who’s home?”

“We’re in the kitchen, Dad!” Stiles calls back, and then sticks his tongue out at Derek.

“Very mature,” Noah comments as he comes into the kitchen, smiling at Derek and pulling Stiles in for a hug, Tara and Paul on his heels. “How was your orientation?”

“I feel very oriented,” Derek says dryly. “And I made a possible friend, maybe a pack member. He’s heard about you, he’s not sponsored, and he’s very interested.”

Noah nods. “Good. Keep vetting him. If you still like him, and he does well, bring him for a visit.”

“I will,” Derek promises.

The oven timer beeps, and Stiles pulls out a large pan of fluffy biscuits. They smell and look delicious, and Derek’s mouth is watering.

“Do you have to go back to the station after dinner?” Stiles asks.

Noah is clearly hesitant to say anything. “Stiles, I need you to not do anything about this, okay? I mean it. I’ll ask Derek to sit on you if I have to.”

Stiles flushes a dark red, but it’s not anger. “Yeah, I promise. No threats necessary. Tara is a bigger badass than anyone in this room.”

Paul laughs at that and rubs a hand over Stiles’ head. “You’ve got that right, kid.”

Derek has noticed that Paul and Tara both have become more integrated into the pack over the last few weeks. He wonders what will happen when Noah reads in the rest of the station. Most of them have families, so it’s not like they’re all going to end up at the Stilinskis’ house, but the pack could expand rapidly.

But Stiles grins at Paul, and he’s clearly a hell of a lot happier with more people around, people who have taken an interest in him.

“When are you telling the rest of the station?” Derek asks.

“Very soon,” Noah replies. “I want to do it before Stiles’ deposition.”

Stiles glances at Tara. “How worried should I be?”

Tara holds up her index finger and thumb to indicate about two centimeters. “That worried. Mark has already figured out a lot.”

“And Mark leads the way,” Stiles jokes.

“He’s pretty influential, and he’d follow the boss to hell and back,” Paul says. “And if the food tastes half as good as it looks and smells, we’re going back to the station well fed.”

“Which reminds me that you haven’t explained what’s going on,” Stiles comments with a pointed look at Noah.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on the old Hale house,” Noah admits with an apologetic look his way. “We’ve noticed some signs of occupation, and there have been a couple of bodies, one here, and one in a neighboring county. I’m working with the other sheriff on it.”

Stiles frowns. “You think it’s hunters.”

“I think it’s a possibility, and I’m not willing to take a chance,” Noah replies. “Kate and Gerard are in jail, and I don’t think Christopher or Victoria would be willing to risk their daughter, as long as Allison and Scott aren’t involved with each other.”

“So, other hunters,” Stiles says flatly. “Moving into our territory.”

Derek raises his eyebrows. The way Stiles says that is interesting, and very territorial. He would expect it from a wolf, but not from a human.

But then, Stiles isn’t entirely human.

“It’s hard to say right now, because we have no clear signs,” Noah says. “I need you to leave it alone, though. I’m talking with the sheriffs of the neighboring counties, and we’re working together as much as possible.”

“Have you called the FBI?” Stiles asks, filling a bowl.

“I talked to Agent Marsh today,” Noah confirms. “Trust me, Stiles, we’re bringing everything we have to bear. I need you not to draw attention to yourself.”

Stiles blows out a breath. “They already know about me, Pops. More than that, the hunters probably know I can use magic.”

“But we’re not giving them confirmation,” Noah says firmly. “Promise me, Stiles. You know what it would do to me to lose you.”

“I know,” Stiles says after a moment. “I promise to do my best to not get involved or show up to any crime scenes.”

Noah breathes out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. Now, let’s eat. This really smells good, kiddo. I might start to think you’re magic in the kitchen, too.”

“Feel free,” Stiles replies with a cheeky grin.

It’s probably a good thing they are only four people at dinner, because they clear the crock pot and eat most of the biscuits. There are just enough left over to make breakfast sandwiches the next morning.

“We’ll take care of the dishes real quick,” Paul offers, grabbing Stiles’ bowl and plate. “Great job, kid.”

Stiles blushes. “Thanks. Moira left detailed instructions.”

“I still would have burned it,” Paul replies.

Tara says, “I’m going to need that recipe, Stiles.”

“You got it,” Stiles replies. “I’ll email it to you.”

“I’m wiped,” Derek admits. “You want to watch a movie?”

Stiles bobs his head. “Yeah, I could go for that.”

Noah, Paul, and Tara leave as soon as the kitchen is clean, and Stiles starts up Lilo & Stitch. Derek gives him a curious look, and Stiles grimaces sheepishly. “It was a movie Mom and I watched together a lot.”

Derek just shifts closer to him. “I get that.”

If anyone understands loss, he does.

“Is there a favorite for you?” Stiles asks as the opening scenes begin to roll.

Derek hesitates, and then he says, “My whole pack really liked Star Trek, all of it. Mom always said it would be nice to live in a world that embraced diversity and disdained fear.”

Stiles leans against him slightly. “Yeah, I would agree with that.”

And Derek knows that Stiles has a crush on him, just like he knows that he doesn’t plan on doing anything about it, but he has to admit that he likes the feeling of Stiles leaning into him.

The pack that he’s gained might not be identical to the pack that he lost, but it’s good all the same.

~~~~~

Stiles slams the door to his locker shut and startles when he sees Lydia standing there, staring at him. “Lydia! What, um, what do you want?”

Lydia’s eyes narrow. “I want to know what’s going on with you.”

“Going on with me?” Stiles squeaks out. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Lydia starts ticking off the points on her fingers, one by one. “Allison helps kidnap you, and apparently gives you a complete personality transplant. Then Jackson has a total personality transplant!”

Stiles holds up a hand. “Sorry, Lydia, but I’m pretty sure he’s still a douche.”

“Yeah, to losers,” Lydia replies. “But he’s been really sweet to his parents recently. He talks about how grateful he is that they adopted him.”

Stiles is actually kind of glad about that. “Huh. Well, good for him. And his parents, I guess. I’m sure they’re relieved.”

“And then you form a gang!” Lydia says. “And you stopped following me around.”

“I didn’t think you liked me following you around,” Stiles replies. “Look at me, respecting your boundaries.”

Lydia makes a sound that’s pure frustration. “Stiles! What the hell is going on?”

Stiles decides to be as literal as possible. “I started talking to my dad.”

Lydia glares at him. “And what the hell made Allison go completely psycho?”

“You’d have to ask her about that,” Stiles replies. “Since I’m the victim, and I’m not allowed to talk to her.”

“She won’t reply when I text her.” Lydia’s shoulders slump. “And I know she used me to entrap you.”

Stiles just shrugs. “I don’t hold it against you. That was all Allison.”

Her expression softens. “I still think something is going on.”

“There are many things going on,” Stiles replies. “At any given time, and all over the world.”

Lydia glares. “You know what I mean.”

“And I also know that I don’t owe you an explanation,” Stiles replies. “I made some new friends. I reconnected with my dad. I’m learning a few new things, too. I figured you’d be happy about that, at least about me leaving you alone.”

Erica comes up from behind him, and Stiles doesn’t startle only because he can feel her coming. She loops her arm through his and smirks at Lydia. “Is this—person bothering you?”

“Lydia thinks things have changed,” Stiles comments.

“Things have changed,” Erica says cheerfully. “For the better. I think I’m hotter than her now.”

Stiles gives her an obvious once-over. “I’d put you at a 10.5. Lydia remains a 10.”

Lydia makes another sound that’s pure frustration, and then flounces off.

“Thanks for the rescue,” Stiles says. “She was getting a little pushy.”

“Pretty sure that’s her MO,” Erica replies.

Stiles blows out a breath. “Is it weird that I still find her attractive?”

“She’s kind of hot,” Erica admits. “I still think I’m hotter.”

“I’m going to plead the Fifth on that,” Stiles replies. “Mostly because Boyd could break me in half.”

Erica frowns. “It’s not like that.”

“Not yet,” Stiles counters.

Erica smiles. “Not yet. But you’re still our Doctor Strange.”

Stiles grins. “I am. I want to do a research project on the telluric currents.”

Stiles doesn’t expect Erica—or anyone else in the hallway—to know what he’s talking about, but Danny is passing by just then and he says, “You know about the telluric currents?”

He blinks. “Um, yes? You know about them, too?”

“Yeah, I was going to do a paper on them,” Danny replies. “How do you know about them?”

“How do you?” Stiles counters.

Danny hesitates. “I don’t want to talk about it here.”

“Fair enough, we can go back to my place,” Stiles replies. “I was going to just do homework anyway.”

Danny nods. “Okay, fair enough. Are we going to have privacy?”

Unlikely, Stiles thinks, but he doesn’t say that out loud. “Sure, of course. And if I like what you have to say, I’ll introduce you to my teacher.”

Danny raises his eyebrows. “Is that a threat?”

Stiles laughs. “Nah. She’s great, but she’s pretty picky about who she takes on as a student.”

“I didn’t say I wanted to be anyone’s student,” Danny objects.

Stiles shrugs that off. “If you knew what Moira had to offer, you wouldn’t be saying that, but it makes no difference to me.”

“I’ll meet you at your house after school, then,” Danny says. He’s shaking his head as he moves away, muttering under his breath, and Stiles knows it’s because Danny thinks he’s kind of an idiot.

Stiles has to admit that he can be a bit of an idiot, but he also likes to think he’s done a hell of a lot of growing up in a very short period of time.

Sheer terror and having Moira around have helped with that.

“What do you think he knows?” Erica asks quietly, having observed the conversation.

Stiles shrugs. “My guess is that he knows something about magic. Beyond that, who can say? It’s not like we’re going to be best friends or anything, not when he’s Jackson’s BFF.”

“How does that even happen?” Erica asks. “Danny is like the nicest person at school, and Jackson is the worst.”

“Maybe opposites attract?” Stiles suggests. “Come on. We’ve got a free period, and I want to get a head start on my homework.”

“Is Harris still being a dick to you?” Erica asks as they head for the library.

“Yeah, a little bit,” Stiles says. “And yes, I’ve told my dad, and he said he’d have a word with him at the next parent-teacher conference.”

He and Erica have their free period together this semester, and Stiles tries to use it to get ahead on his homework to give himself more time for his lessons with Moira.

Stiles is happy to have someone to hang with outside of Scott. He’s getting past his anger, and it’s helped that Scott has avoided talking about Allison around him, but Stiles has found that he likes the variety.

He’s never going to be Mr. Popular, but the stimulation is good. As Moira has said to him more than once, it’s not good to have all your eggs in one basket.

To which Stiles usually replies, “But I only had one basket in the past,” and Moira will say, “That’s not true anymore.”

“Would you look over this for me?” Erica whispers, sliding her math homework in Stiles’ direction. She isn’t the best student, although Stiles is aware that’s largely due to her past health problems. With that resolved, and his dad taking an active interest in the grades of everyone in the pack, she’s been motivated to do a little better.

Stiles quickly reviews her algebra problems, and then grins at her. “Yeah, looks good to me.”

Erica smiles, clearly pleased with herself, then cracks open her history textbook. Stiles mostly has reading to do, and he gets through his history reading, then English lit, then economics. That leaves him with his own math homework and chemistry to do that evening.

Stiles’ next class—economics—is also his last class of the day, and there’s no practice after school, so Stiles plans on heading straight home to meet Danny. As usual, they all meet outside to figure out who needs a ride.

“I’ve got my bike and work,” Scott says. “And Mom wants me home for dinner.”

“I’m supposed to meet your dad at the station to discuss emancipation,” Boyd says.

“Same,” Isaac adds.

Erica clears her throat. “Think I’ll stick with them, unless you need the protection, Stiles.”

“I’ll be fine, and Danny did ask for privacy,” Stiles replies. “I can drop you guys off,” Stiles replies. “No problem.”

Scott frowns. “What’s this about Danny?”

“Danny overheard me talking about telluric currents, and he got interested,” Stiles replies. “We’re meeting at the house, since he didn’t want to talk about it in the hallway.”

“Jackson won’t be there, will he?” Scott asks.

Stiles shakes his head. “I doubt it. Jackson seems to have a distinct aversion to anything werewolf these days, and we all know why.”

They break up after that, Scott getting on his bike and heading for the vet clinic, and Stiles driving the other three to the sheriff’s station.

“Text if you need anything,” Erica orders.

Stiles hitches a shoulder. “I’ll be fine.”

Danny is parked in front of the house when Stiles arrives, his red Mustang on the street, and Danny leaning on the hood.

Stiles parks in the driveway as he usually does and waits for Danny’s approach.

“Where’s the new entourage?” Danny asks casually.

If he’d sounded mocking, Stiles probably would have turned him away right there, but he doesn’t. He just sounds curious. “Busy with other things. Besides, you asked if we’d have privacy.”

Danny follows him inside, hands tucked in his pockets. Stiles can tell that the house is empty, but he’s not worried. “I know you’ve always had a lot of varied interests, but the gang is new.”

“Is that what people think?” Stiles asks. “That I started a gang?”

Danny laughs. “To be honest, I’m not sure anyone knows what to think. Jackson is acting differently, and so are you. It’s like the world has tilted sideways just a bit.”

Stiles takes a deep breath. “Tell me how you know about telluric currents, and maybe I’ll fill you in.”

Danny’s dark eyes are wary, and then he nods briefly. “Yeah, okay. I know because my mom leaned the old ways from her mom, and she’s teaching me to keep the traditions alive. She’s the one who taught me how to sense the telluric currents. How do you know about them?”

Stiles takes a deep breath. “Because I figured out how to use magic.” Stiles knows the value of a good distraction, and he holds out a hand, calling fire. It’s not his primary element, but he can get a small flame to dance in his palm.

To his credit, Danny doesn’t even seem all that surprised. “That’s how you escaped.”

Stiles shakes his head. “That’s not the official story.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be, would it?” Danny asks. “I get it, and I’m not going to say anything. Allison and her aunt hurt you, and you escaped. That’s the important thing.”

Stiles extinguishes the flame and feels his shoulders slump. “Thanks. Do you want a soda?”

“I’d take one,” he says.

They settle in the kitchen, sitting at the counter, and Stiles finds himself in the odd position of sharing one of his deepest secrets with someone he likes but doesn’t really trust all that much.

“Did you do something to Jackson?” Danny asks, after taking a long sip of his soda.

“Define ‘something,’” Stiles replies. “Because from what Lydia said when she confronted me today, it sounds as though Jackson had something of a revelation.”

Danny nods. “He’s happier. Pretty sure his parents took him in for a head CT because he’s been really sweet to them. He actually got his mom flowers for her birthday and thanked her for adopting him.”

“Scan was clear?” Stiles asks, although he already knows the answer.

“No concussion, no obvious signs of trauma,” Danny confirms. “He’s just a hell of a lot nicer to his parents, seemingly okay with his adoption for the first time ever, and he made up with Lydia.”

Stiles doesn’t reply right away, and Danny adds, “It’s almost like someone put the whammy on him.”

Stiles really isn’t sure what he might have said had Moira not chosen that moment to enter the kitchen.

“Hm, you do bring the most interesting people home, Stiles,” Moira says.

Stiles takes his cue easily. “Moira, this is Danny Mahealani. Danny, Moira Keynes.”

Danny, polite as always, stands and holds out a hand. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

Moira’s eyes narrow. “Any relation to Noelani Kekoa?”

“My maternal grandmother,” Danny says with obvious surprise. “You know her?”

“We’ve met a few times,” Moira replies. “And I met your mother, too, when she was younger, not that she’d be very old now.”

Danny blinks. “I didn’t realize.”

Moira gives Stiles a pointed look, and Stiles says, “Danny overheard me talking to Erica about telluric currents, and he stopped to ask about it. He’s writing a paper.”

“I would suggest you not do that,” Moira replies. “You’ll just bring unwanted attention to yourself. But I would dearly love to see your mother again.”

“I can give her a call,” Danny offers. “Maybe you’d want to come to dinner sometime?”

Moira smiles. “I would like that, and perhaps you and your mother would like to come to one of Stiles’ lessons.”

Stiles realizes just how neatly Moira has taken the wind out of Danny’s sails. She’s claimed a relationship that sets him at ease, but also makes it clear that she expects to deal with his mom, not just Danny.

That seems to be par for the course for Moira, who insists on the involvement of responsible adults as often as possible. If there is no responsible adult, then she finds one.

Danny glances at Stiles with a slight smile. “Yeah, I see what you meant, Stiles. See you tomorrow.”

Once Danny has left, Moira turns to Stiles, her hands on her hips. “Stiles. Please tell me you weren’t going to tell him anything about the pack.”

“All he was going to hear from me was that I know about the telluric currents, and I could do a little bit of magic,” Stiles protests. “I wasn’t gonna say anything about werewolves.”

Moira raises her eyebrows. “And Jackson?”

Stiles shrugs. “I got confirmation that the whammy worked, and Jackson is a much nicer person, at least to his parents. I wasn’t going to confirm we were the ones to put the whammy on him.”

Moira shakes her head. “All right, I believe you, but I think the business of magic should be treated like pack business, Stiles.”

Stiles mimes zipping his lip. “Got it.”

“Good, I’m glad you do,” Moira replies, then unbends enough to put an arm around his shoulders. “That being said, I like the Kekoas.”

“Do you know all of the magic users?” Stiles asks.

Moira snorts. “Hardly, but I do know them. Noelani is probably the strongest magic user in Hawai’i, and I enjoy exploring other magical traditions. I find that it helps me with my own practice, so I sought her out some years ago, which is when I met Alana.”

Stiles takes a breath. “I’m sorry. I guess I kind of let my enthusiasm get the best of me.”

“I understand, and I’m not upset,” Moira insists. “It’s natural to feel alone, and to want there to be others like you. It’s not just werewolves who need a pack, Stiles.”

“I know I’m not alone, and I have a pack, but they don’t understand things like telluric currents,” Stiles says. “I mean, Derek would probably listen, and would probably learn something, but I don’t really want to bug him.”

Moira gives him a knowing look. “Because you have a crush on him?”

Stiles feels his face heat. “Is it that obvious?”

“You live in a house with a bunch of werewolves, mo chroi,” Moira says with amusement. “Frankly, I’d be a little worried if you could hide it from all of them. But I think that, other than your dad and Derek, they’re probably oblivious.”

Stiles groans. “But that’s the worst! I mean, not my dad, but Derek. I won’t be able to look him in the eye ever again.”

Moira laughs. “Stiles, Derek isn’t going to touch you with a ten-foot pole until you’re at least eighteen. He’s the safest crush you could have right now.”

“But you think my dad knows?” Stiles asks. “I mean, it’s not like I’ve told anyone that I’m bi. Or maybe pan? I’m not entirely sure.”

Moira smiles. “Except for me, just now. Thank you for trusting me with it.”

“I figure that Scott probably knows,” Stiles admits. “But I haven’t told my dad.”

“He’s not going to care one way or another,” Moira says. “Now, do you have pressing homework, or do we have time for a lesson?”

Stiles is eager to begin. When he’s doing magic with Moira, it feels amazing. “No, I got most of it done during my free period. What are we working on today?”

“We’re going to work on the art of forecasting,” Moira says. “You’ve dipped your toes into scrying with water, but there are a few other ways, and you should figure out what works best for you.”

Stiles points at her. “That was a pun. You just made a pun.”

Moira gives him an impish grin. “I can be punny.”

Stiles grins. “Clearly. Okay, what other methods of scrying are there?”

“There’s the use of runes, as well as spirit walking or astral projection,” Moira replies. “But that tends to be the preferred method of those with an affinity for air or spirit, not earth. It’s also a fairly advanced technique that takes a long time to master, so that’s not where we’re going to start.”

“Runes,” Stiles says. “Because I’ve already shown an affinity.”

“Just so,” Moira says approvingly. “There’s also the use of other tools—fire, smoke, mirrors, coffee grounds, tea leaves, Tarot cards—but we’re going to start with runes.”

As usual, they have their lesson in the middle of the living room floor, and Moira pulls out the silk cloth she typically uses. Then she pulls out a leather pouch. “I haven’t used these before. I got them especially for you.”

“What if they don’t work for me?” Stiles asks.

Moira shrugs. “You’ll have a nice souvenir, but I have a good feeling about it. I wouldn’t have gotten them otherwise.”

Stiles holds the pouch in a hand thoughtfully. “Okay. What do I do first?”

“Is there something you want to know that you can verify later?” Moira asks.

Stiles takes a deep breath. “I don’t know about verification unless you do it for me.”

“The bodies,” Moira says.

Stiles nods. “The bodies.”

“I’ll ask your dad and will let you know,” Moira promises.

“Got it,” Stiles says. “So, I hold the question in my mind, throw the rune stones, and—“

“Then we interpret,” Moira says. “And that’s definitely more of an art than a science, so I want you to understand that, Stiles. Rune stones will give direction. You know we used the scrying bowl to help find Matt Daehler. This is different.”

Stiles thinks he understands. “So, I get clues, but not answers, and I should trust but verify.”

Moira nods. “Good. You understand. Let’s begin.”

Stiles pours the rune stones out into his hand, and then he tosses them out onto the cloth. He has no trouble interpreting them, having studied their meanings intensively. “Oh, that’s not good.”

“Tell me what you see,” Moira says.

“I see a gathering storm,” Stiles replies, pointing to the rune that represents just that. “From multiple enemies who mean harm. And division, maybe within the pack if we aren’t careful.”

Moira smiles, but it’s faint. “What’s the answer?”

“That’s a separate question, isn’t it?” Stiles asks. “So I should cast again.”

Moira nods, and he picks up the stones and tosses them again. Just like the first time he tried, only a few stones land face-up. “Marshal allies and act decisively against our enemies.” Stiles frowns and points at one of the stones. “I don’t know about that one.”

“That one is ambiguous,” Moira confirms. “But it generally means danger not easily countered in this configuration.”

“Cool,” Stiles mutters. “So cool. Maybe I should cast again to find out how my deposition is going to go.”

“It’s going to be fine, Stiles,” Moira soothes. “And maybe it’s referring at least partially to your meeting with Danny today. We could stand the extra firepower.”

Stiles blows out a breath. “Or maybe I just fucked everything up.”

Moira reaches out and taps him under the chin in a maternal gesture that Stiles has come to appreciate. “You could have, but you didn’t.”

“But no discussing magic in the hallway,” Stiles says.

Moira smiles. “That would be a good idea going forward. You never know who might overhear and understand even a cryptic reference.”

“Live and learn,” Stiles mutters.

~~~~~

Noah gets buzzed by Tara, who says, “The kids are here.”

“Which ones?” Noah asks, knowing that he asked Isaac and Boyd to show up, but that doesn’t mean others haven’t also tagged along.

“Erica, Boyd, and Isaac,” Tara replies. “Isaac says you’re expecting them.”

Several months ago, “the kids” would have been Stiles and Scott, but now he has options. Noah doesn’t mind. “I am. Send them back.”

Erica bounces into the room first, and Noah can’t help but smile. The transformation has probably been the most stark with her, and he knows that her parents put up with her being over at his house as much as she is because she’s obviously happy, healthy, and absolutely brimming with life.

Boyd and Isaac’s changes are a little more subtle, but it’s more in their confidence and desire to leave their pasts behind. Noah has looked into the disappearance of Boyd’s sister, but he has to agree with past investigators: there just isn’t much evidence. Maybe if Noah had been on the case at the very beginning, he could have picked something up, but the crime scene has long gone cold.

“All right,” Noah says. “We’re still a little ways out from it being finalized, but I wanted to fill you both in on what’s going on. The paperwork has been filed, and we will have a hearing. Generally speaking, the judge will want to know you’re capable of self-support if you’re emancipated, but in this situation, I’m willing to tell the judge that I’m your fall-back, and you won’t be left without care.”

“What does that do for us?” Isaac asks. “If I went into foster care, what would be the difference?”

Noah glances at Erica. “Are you okay having her here for this conversation?”

“There aren’t many secrets in the pack,” Boyd says dryly.

“True enough,” Noah agrees. “In order to foster you, I’d need to become a certified foster parent. And no offense, but by the time I got that taken care of, you’d both be 18.”

“I don’t want to put you out like that,” Isaac says.

“Besides, foster care would end when you’re 18, and pack is forever,” Noah says simply. “I estimate another month before we get the hearing scheduled, but I’ll try to push it.”

Isaac gives him a relieved look. “And you’ll be there?”

“Of course,” Noah promises. “Unless something comes up, and I don’t have any choice but to miss it, but even then, another pack member will be there.”

Isaac and Boyd both nod, not exactly looking thrilled by that idea, but Noah knows that they’ll get more comfortable with the other adults in time. And now that they’re past Boyd’s first full moon, it’s time to bring in the rest of the station, starting with Dave.

“We get it,” Boyd says. “Thanks.”

Erica drapes herself over Boyd’s broad shoulders. “Yay! You’re going to be free.”

“Free-ish,” Boyd replies.

“I’m going to keep looking into Alicia’s case,” Noah promises. “Technology changes all the time, and you never know when a break will come.”

Boyd swallows obviously. “I really do appreciate you looking into it.”

Noah reaches out and taps a pile of case folders on his desk. “These are the cases that I’ll never close—not until they’re solved. Your sister’s case will remain in this pile as long as I’m the sheriff.”

Boyd looks away, his throat working. “Thanks.”

“Okay, I need to get back to work, and you three probably have homework,” Noah says. “Especially if you boys want to stay on the lacrosse team. And Erica, if you finish the semester with B’s or above, I’ll make sure you get driving lessons.”

Erica stares at him. “How did you know?”

“You turned sixteen not that long ago, and I remember how anxious Stiles was to learn,” Noah replies dryly. “Boyd, Isaac, same goes for the two of you.”

Boyd just looks quietly pleased. “I have a 4.0.”

“I already know how to drive, but I don’t have my license,” Isaac admits. “It’s why I haven’t taken my dad’s vehicle.”

That reminds Noah that he needs to check on the status of closing Lahey’s estate. The sale of the house and its effects will only help Isaac’s financial situation. Boyd, on the other hand, doesn’t have a lot of resources either way, but Noah is prepared to promise that he’s not going to wind up on the street.

“We can fix that,” Noah replies and checks the calendar. “I can take you next week, or you can ask Stiles. He might let you use his Jeep for it. Mel might let you use her car, or maybe Derek. I can’t let you use the county vehicle.”

Isaac stares at him. “Really?”

“There’s no reason for you not to be able to use your dad’s car,” Noah says. “And having another vehicle for the pack’s use would be helpful.”

Isaac ducks his head. “I’d like to help.”

“Good,” Noah replies. “Do you three need a ride home?”

Isaac shakes his head in response for all three of them. “We’re going to the coffeeshop to do homework, and Derek said he’d give us a ride after that.”

Noah happens to know that Derek is meeting the guy he’d scoped at orientation at the coffee shop. “See what you think about Derek’s classmate.”

Erica grins wickedly. “You want me to test him?”

“Let’s slow roll that,” Noah replies, amused. “Let Derek make a friend.”

“Pretty sure it’s a first,” Boyd mutters. “So we’ll be gentle.”

Noah jerks his chin. “Get.”

They all troop out, laughing and jostling each other, and Noah takes a deep breath, then presses the intercom button. “Tara, are Dave and Paul here yet?”

“Yes, sir,” she says. “You ready for us?”

“Come on back,” Noah says.

They’re using Dave as the test case for the rest of the station. Mark would have been a good one, since he knows a lot already, but Dave and Paul are two peas in a pod, and Paul had rightly asserted that Dave would be pissed if he wasn’t told first. Besides, Noah knows they’re an item, even if they’re keeping it quiet.

Dave looks a little nervous as he takes a seat in front of Noah’s desk. Paul sits down in the other chair, and Tara leans against the closed door. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on, sir?”

“What makes you think something is going on?” Noah asks, wondering what, exactly, Dave has noticed.

Dave’s expression is incredulous. “Well, there was the whole thing with the Argents. I mean, who kidnaps the sheriff’s son? Or shoots up a sheriff’s station in broad daylight?”

“Lunatics?” Paul suggests.

“There’s something more to it than that,” Dave protests. “Besides, there was how they targeted the Hales, not to mention Tara!”

Tara raises her eyebrows, amused. “What about me?”

“No offense, Tara, because you’re a badass, but I saw your chart when I visited you in the hospital, and my mom was an ER nurse. That injury should have put you out of commission for a minimum of six months, and the normal course would have probably put you on the permanent disabled list,” Dave says. “If you survived.”

Noah grimaces. “That was a concern. Anything else?”

“I believe that Stiles can pick locks, for sure, but no way did he manage to get those handcuffs open with a piece of wire,” Dave says with a rueful look. “Not that I’d say that to anyone but the people in this room. And you seem to have adopted a whole bunch of kids. We’re all used to seeing Stiles and Scott around here, and I wasn’t surprised when you took Derek under your wing, but then there are the others, too.”

Noah chuckles. “Have you been holding that in for a while, Dave? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say so much at once.”

Dave shrugs, and then slumps in his chair. “I wasn’t sure how to bring it up without sounding like I was accusing someone of something.”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” Noah says. “Paul, you want to show him? It might be easier coming from you.”

Plus, Paul can do the full shift, and a coyote is a lot less threatening than a wolf.

Paul stands and transforms, leaving a coyote standing in his place.

“Holy shit,” Dave breathes. “Does that—can you all do that?”

“Not quite,” Noah replies with amusement, letting his eyes flare red. “I can’t quite manage the full shift yet.”

Dave glances at Tara, whose eyes flash yellow, and then she allows her face to shift.

Paul lets out a little yip and then changes back. “I was born a werecoyote.”

“I was bitten,” Noah says. “And I bit Tara to save her life.”

Dave’s eyes widen, and then he looks up at the ceiling. “Holy shit.”

Noah watches his face as the pieces start to fall into place, remembering how it had felt for him, once he started realizing what Stiles and Scott got themselves into.

“So, the Argents are—what? Werewolf hunters?” Dave asks.

“He’s not just a pretty face,” Paul teases.

Noah laughs. “Correct.”

“That’s why they kidnapped Stiles?” Dave asks.

Noah shakes his head. “Stiles isn’t a werewolf, but they thought he was. He has magic. That’s what he used to pick the cuffs.”

“Well, thank fuck for that,” Dave mutters. “Sorry.”

Noah doesn’t mind the language under the circumstances. “They would have killed him if he hadn’t escaped.”

Dave nods. “The kids are werewolves, too?”

“Scott was bitten by the previous Alpha,” Noah confirms. “I bit Erica Reyes because she had a medical condition that could have killed her. Isaac Lahey and Vernon Boyd requested the bite because they needed somewhere to belong.”

Dave tilts his head, and then he shrugs. “All right.”

“All right?” Noah asks.

Dave glances at Tara. “I’ve known Paul for years now, and it’s not like I noticed anything weird beyond his face.”

“There is nothing weird about my face!” Paul protests.

Dave’s grin turns sly. “You keep telling yourself that, man. Besides, it saved Tara’s life, and it seems like the Argents are the real assholes in this situation.”

“An out-of-control werewolf can cause a lot of damage,” Noah replies. “Peter Hale proved that.”

Dave shakes his head. “Yeah, well, a bad guy with a gun can create a body count, too, you know? We can all be dangerous given the right circumstances.”

“How do you think the rest of the station will react?” Noah asks.

Dave considers the question. “Mark already knows, or he knows enough, and now that I look back on it, he’s been dropping hints. I don’t see anybody having a problem with it. We all know that something is up, but—we’re all relieved that Tara’s back and healthy, and we all think the Argents are assholes.”

“That’s because they are assholes,” Tara mutters. “They’re the assholes who shot me.”

“All’s well that ends well,” Noah says. “But I agree.”

“Does that mean you’ll offer the bite to everyone at the station?” Dave asks.

Noah raises his eyebrows. “Do you want the bite?”

“I don’t know,” Dave admits. “I might. I’ll have to think about it. But I do know that if you need to do it to save my life, you have advance permission.”

“Good to know,” Noah replies. “We do plan on telling the rest of the station, but I’d appreciate if you kept things quiet for now.”

Dave grins. “You got it, sir. Thanks for telling me before everyone else.”

“Paul insisted,” Noah replies.

“Should I get a harness and leash?” Dave asks. “Offer to take you for walkies, Paul?”

Paul pokes him viciously in the side and says, “Watch it.”

“Get out of here,” Noah orders. “And no dog jokes at the station, Dave. You start it, and it will never end.”

“You’re the boss,” Dave calls.

“Not that anyone would believe that sometimes,” Noah mutters.

~~~~~

Derek stands as Jordan Parrish enters the coffee shop, and they exchange a quick handshake. “Thanks for meeting me,” Parrish says. “I kind of wanted the chance to scope out Beacon Hills, assuming I have a shot.”

“I think you do,” Derek replies. “I mean, do well enough and you’ll have your pick of stations, right?”

“That’s the idea,” Parrish admits. “It seems like a nice little town.”

“It’s where I grew up, so I might be a little biased, but I think so,” Derek admits. “How’s work?”

Parrish shrugs. “It’s fine. Tending bar pays the bills, and that’s really all that matters.”

Derek clocks Isaac, Erica, and Boyd as they enter the coffee shop, and he gets a nod from Boyd.

“You know them?” Parrish asks.

Derek nods, since Parrish is going to need to know the lay of the land. “They’re friends of Stiles, the sheriff’s son. I’ve gotten to know them over the last few months.”

Parrish frowns. “So, Sheriff Stilinksi collects people?”

“That’s one way to put it,” Derek replies. “Not that I mind.”

Parrish looks a little wistful. “Kind of like having a family, huh?”

“Kind of like that, yeah,” Derek admits. “Noah was really good to me after my sister died, and I just got wrapped up, you know?”

Parrish seems to sense that’s still a bit of a sore subject for Derek, and he doesn’t press. Instead, the conversation turns to their next class, and what they’ve been studying to get ready for it.

After an hour or so, Parrish has to leave for his bartending job, and Derek considers whether he should do some studying of his own, or round up the kids to go home.

Just then, a pretty woman sits down at the table with him without even asking. “Hi.” There’s definitely a flirtatious note in her voice. “I know I could be reading things wrong, but it didn’t look like you were on a date.”

“I wasn’t,” Derek replies cautiously.

She reaches and out and puts a hand on his arm. “It’s a shame to see such a handsome man sitting alone.”

Derek feels himself stiffen and freeze. He’s having flashbacks to Kate, and he wants to dislodge her hand and tell her he’s not interested, but Derek is having a hard time forcing the words out.

“Oh, he’s not alone,” Erica announces, draping herself across his shoulders. That breaks the impasse enough that Derek can jerk his arm away as though he’s been burned. “Hey, big bro. Is it still cool if we get a ride from you?”

Erica has turned tactile as a wolf, and he’s never appreciated it more than at this moment. “Yeah, of course,” Derek says easily. “Excuse me.”

He disposes of his cup as they leave, and Derek doesn’t even look back. “She’s lucky Stiles wasn’t there,” Isaac mutters. “He would’ve hexed her so fast.”

“Stiles doesn’t hex people,” Derek replies.

“He would have made an exception,” Boyd says. “If you’d been tenser, you would have shattered.”

“I don’t like that kind of attention,” Derek explains uncomfortably.

“Well, that was obvious,” Erica says. “Count on me to play the very annoying little sister any time.”

“What you did was not even a little bit annoying,” Derek admits. “It was a pretty effective rescue.”

Erica beams at him. “Just call me Catwoman.”

“I’ll let Stiles do that,” Derek says dryly. “Where are the two stooges, anyway?”

“Stiles was meeting up with Danny, and Scott had a shift at the clinic,” Boyd replies. “Stiles dropped us off for our meeting with the sheriff.”

Derek hums thoughtfully. “When’s the hearing?”

“In a month or so,” Isaac replies.

“Excited about it?” Derek asks as he climbs behind the wheel. Boyd and Erica are in the backseat, and Derek knows that only Noah’s order as their Alpha has kept them from fucking.

And that’s not going to last forever, so Derek resolves to stash some condoms somewhere. He feels like it’s his duty as the right hand.

“Yeah, for sure,” Isaac says. “Noah said I could get my driver’s license, but I can’t use a county vehicle for the test.”

“I’ll take you,” Derek says definitively. “I don’t mind if you use mine.”

Isaac turns hero worshipping eyes on him. “Really?”

“Yeah, not a problem,” Derek replies, and glances into the rearview mirror. “What about you two?”

Erica perks up. “You’d teach me how to drive?”

“Sure,” Derek replies. “Boyd?”

“What’s the point?” Boyd says. “It’s not like I’m going to be able to afford a car any time soon.”

Derek sighs. “Boyd, I have a lot of money from the insurance pay-outs. I can get you a car. It makes sense that the pack would have another responsible driver with a reliable car. Stiles might count as a responsible driver, but his car is not reliable.”

Erica laughs. “You’re not wrong about that.”

“What’s up with the Jeep anyway?” Isaac asks.

“It belonged to his mom,” Derek says shortly. “Stiles is going to be driving Roscoe until the day it dies for good.”

“You mean, after he’s rebuilt it at least three times,” Boyd says.

“At least that,” Derek agrees, and pulls up into the driveway.

When they enter the house, Derek takes a deep breath, and he’s not sure what he’s smelling, but his mouth is already watering.

“I swear I eat better here than I have in my entire life,” Boyd mutters. “What is that?”

Stiles pokes his head out of the kitchen. “That, my friends, is a new recipe. We’re making chicken souvlaki tonight.”

“Can I help?” Derek asks, taking off his jacket and throwing it over the back of a chair.

“Yeah, we’re working on a tomato and cucumber salad, too,” Stiles says. “If you want to help chop.”

Derek goes straight to the kitchen, and Stiles bumps his shoulder. “You okay, man?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Derek asks.

Stiles pokes him in the ribs. “You weren’t happy earlier, but Erica made it better.”

“A woman approached me,” Derek admits.

Stiles’ eyes narrow, and then he says, “Rude. I’m glad Erica could rescue you.”

Derek is relieved that he doesn’t have to offer an explanation.

“Relax, Der,” Stiles says. “If someone made you uncomfortable, then we don’t like them.”

“Did she remind you of someone?” Moira asks sympathetically.

Derek can only nod.

“Fucking Kate Argent,” Stiles mutters darkly. “That fucking bitch.”

Derek snorts. “I thought you were in therapy to deal with that.”

“I am in therapy!” Stiles protests. “Jack says my anger is justified, and I don’t have to forgive her if I don’t want to. And I don’t want to. She sucks.”

Derek smiles at that, feeling the last of the tension dissipate. “She’s the worst.”

“Listen to your gut, Derek,” Moira says gently. “Something about the woman who approached you today reminded you of Kate. One predator knows another.”

“And prey knows a predator,” Derek murmurs.

Moira reaches out to touch his cheek. “Yes, exactly. We are all capable of being both prey and predator. You can use that to your advantage, even if it felt like a weakness today.”

Derek blows out a breath. “It did.”

Erica comes into the kitchen and wraps her arms around his waist. “She was being super gross. Stiles, if you had been there, you would have hexed her. I could smell it on her.”

“What could you smell on her?” Moira asks sharply.

Erica frowns and closes her eyes. “Lust, but it wasn’t sexual. She wanted something really badly, though.”

“I think your gut was working just fine,” Moira says. “But I think that’s a good reminder for all of us that there are forces out there, and we should be cautious.”

Erica hugs him again. “I’ve got your back.”

Derek loops an arm around her, and briefly mourns his siblings. The edge of grief is dulled, though, and he’s grateful for what he does have.

Chapter 4

Stiles straightens his shoulders and reminds himself to be on his best behavior. It’s taken time to set up dinner with Danny and his family. Stiles suspects it’s because Danny’s mom wanted to vet Moira—and probably him, but he’s known Danny since grade school. There’s not much to vet.

That said, Stiles doesn’t want to act like an idiot when meeting Danny’s mom for the first time.

Moira puts a hand on his back. “Relax, Stiles. No matter the outcome of this meeting, you’ll still be my student.”

Stiles bobs his head, grateful that Moira doesn’t seem to mind it when he’s an idiot.

Moira rings the doorbell, keeping a hand on Stiles, calming him.

The door opens to reveal a gorgeous woman who has to be Danny’s mom. “Moira, it’s been a long time.”

“Alana, you’re looking as lovely as I remember,” Moira replies, accepting Alana’s hug. When she pulls back, she prods Stiles forward. “This is my student, Stiles Stilinski.”

Alana smiles. “Oh, I’m aware. I’ve been hearing stories about Stiles for years now.”

Stiles feels his face heat. “I hope some of those stories were at least funny.”

“Danny was amused—mostly,” Alana replies, stepping aside to let them enter. “I was entirely amused. And I have to say that I quite like your dad and his work.”

“I’m pretty fond of him myself,” Stiles jokes.

Alana leads them into the kitchen, where there’s a woman who looks almost exactly like her, just with salt and pepper gray hair. Her skin is barely lined, and she beams when she catches sight of Moira. “My friend.”

“Noelani!” Moira immediately hugs her tightly. Stiles is used to how diminutive she is, but she and Noelani are the same height.

The embrace could hint at a past and something more than a friendship, or just sisterhood; Stiles can’t tell, and by Alana’s raised eyebrow, she can’t either.

Danny comes into the kitchen on the tail end of the hug, and his eyebrows also go up. He glances at Stiles, but Stiles just shrugs. He has no idea what’s going on.

“Just wait until you’re old enough to have grandchildren,” Moira says, catching the look. “If you’re lucky, you’ll have old friends to greet.”

“Also, old lovers,” Noelani says with a twinkle in her dark eyes. “You didn’t think you were the only queer person in the family, did you, Danny?”

Danny’s eyes are wide. “Um…Mom?”

“Your tutu may have given me a pep talk when you came out,” Alana admits. “But it’s never come up before.”

“You could have just said, ‘Hey, Danny, Tutu is also gay.”

“Technically, bisexual,” Noelani replies, patting him on the arm. “I loved my husband, but I met Moira a couple of years after he died, and we had a very nice summer together.”

Moira smiles impishly. “It was a very good summer.”

Danny’s expression indicates that he’s trying really, really hard not to think about it. “I’m trying to figure out a way to blame you, Stiles.”

“I was bisexual long before he was born, Danny,” Noelani says with a laugh. “Besides, maybe you’ll tell me about your boyfriend now. I know a thing or two about breakups.”

“My mind is blown,” Danny admits.

Alana laughs. “I would have said something if I had known that your tutu’s bisexuality was more than a theory.”

Noelani looks at her. “You walked in on us, Alana.”

“I thought you were having a sleepover!” Alana protests.

Stiles is doing everything he can not to laugh himself silly. Danny is always so calm, cool, and collected, and it’s nice to know that he has his own issues.

“We were having a sleepover,” Noelani says with a little smirk.

Danny covers his face with his hands. “Oh, my god.”

Stiles just giggles, and Noelani focuses on him. “You must be Moira’s student. Noelani Kekoa.”

Stiles decides to brave it. “Miecylaw Stilinski, but everyone calls me Stiles.”

“No wonder,” Danny mutters.

“Danny, be polite,” Alana says. “I’m sure Stiles’ name is a family one.”

“It is,” Stiles admits. “But it’s not like anyone can pronounce it correctly. I couldn’t even pronounce it for the longest time.”

Danny frowns and says, “Miecyslaw. It’s not that hard if you try, but Stiles fits you better.”

“Thanks,” Stiles says, a little surprised.

“Come, I’ll get us coffee,” Alana says. “Stiles, do you want coffee or a soda?”

“Coffee is great,” Stiles replies. “Thanks.”

They sit around the kitchen island, and Stiles sips his very good coffee as the adults exchange news. Danny’s dad is on a business trip to New York, and it turns out that part of the delay in scheduling their conversation had been Nolelani’s desire to see her old friend.

“What are you doing this coming summer, Stiles?” Alana asks eventually.

“Helping my dad at the station with filing and stuff, and studying for the PSATs,” Stiles replies. “Oh, and lessons with Moira. She said she was going to bring me into the business side of things.”

“And I am,” Moira replies, amused. “We’ll keep you busy and out of trouble.”

Danny smiles. “So, you are magic.”

Moira laughs. “I am, indeed.” She turns to Noelani. “How much have you taught him?”

“I taught Alana, and Alana is teaching Danny,” Noelani replies.

“I don’t have a lot of natural talent, but the telluric currents are fascinating,” Danny admits. “That’s what got me thinking about doing a paper on them, but Mr. Harris discouraged me, and then Moira said it wouldn’t be a good idea.”

Noelani nods. “Drawing attention to yourself in this territory would be unwise.” She turns to Moira. “You know what it is?”

“The Nemeton would have been a beacon anyway, but there’s something within it that’s drawing the wrong sort of attention,” Moira admits. “Stiles helped me put up wards after I arrived, but they’re eroding more quickly than I anticipated.”

Noelani nods slowly. “I also felt the corruption when I arrived. I don’t like traveling, or I might have caught it before now.”

Moira reaches out to grasp her hand. “I’m so glad you did travel. It’s been too long.”

Stiles glances away, feeling a little uncomfortable, although he couldn’t say why. Maybe it’s the discomfort of watching parental figures engage in PDA.

Danny is also looking away, though, and his eyes meet Stiles’. Stiles just shrugs, and Danny smiles, and Stiles wonders if his means they’re going to be friends, and not just friendly.

“I think I might stay for a bit,” Noelani admits. “Are you starting a coven here, Moira?”

Moira shrugs. “I don’t know about a coven, but we’ll need a group to cleanse the Nemeton. I do think it would do Stiles good to be exposed to other magic users, though. His affinity is for the earth, and I think he’ll grow deep roots here.”

Noelani hums. “I see. Well, we can work with that.”

Alana turns to Danny. “Why don’t you take Stiles downstairs?”

Stiles takes that to mean that they think he and Danny should leave them to get reacquainted, and that sounds like an excellent idea to Stiles. Clearly, Danny agrees, because they go downstairs to the basement.

“So…that was unexpected,” Stiles comments.

Danny snorts. “You’re telling me.” He pauses. “Although, looking back, Tutu was very cool when I came out. She was the first person I told, actually. She caught me looking at a surfer.”

Stiles hesitates. “Can I ask you a question?”

“If I said no, would that stop you?” Danny asks wryly.

Stiles squirms slightly, but Moira has been very clear about consent. “Yes.”

Danny’s expression is considering, but he says, “Okay, shoot.”

“When did you know you were gay?” Stiles asks.

Danny shrugs. “I can’t remember not knowing.”

Stiles leans back into the couch he’s sitting on, and he drums his fingers on his leg. “Ah.”

“It’s okay not to know,” Danny says suddenly. “And it can change over time.”

Stiles grimaces. “I’ve been in love with Lydia Martin since third grade.”

“Oh, we’re all aware,” Danny replies, rolling his eyes. “But you’ve been hitting on me for at least a year now.”

Stiles glances at him. “Would you believe me if I said I was joking?”

“Would that make you feel better about it?”

“I honestly have no idea,” Stiles admits. “Maybe?”

“Then, as a joke, let me tell you that I’d probably make out with you,” Danny replies. “The only thing stopping me is the fact that you’d get a big head.”

“I wouldn’t!” Stiles protests. “Besides, nobody would believe me.”

“You might be surprised,” Danny says. “So, is Moira like your pack mom?”

Stiles blinks. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Danny gives him a very unimpressed look. “Look, Stiles, Jackson was talking about nothing but werewolves and then he suddenly stopped. I asked my mom, and she confirmed that there are supernatural creatures, and they’re going to be drawn here.”

Stiles shifts uncomfortably. “I can’t—I can’t talk to you about this, Danny.”

“I should direct my questions to your dad, then,” Danny says smugly.

“You’re welcome to direct any questions you have to my dad,” Stiles replies. “He’s always happy to hear from his constituents. Or constituents-to-be.”

Danny shrugs. “Fair enough. There are things my mom would kill me if I told you without her express permission.”

“You get it,” Stiles replies.

“You want to play some Halo?” Danny offers.

Stiles is relieved to be past the danger zone. “Yeah, that sounds great.”

The thing is, everyone likes Danny for a reason. He’s even nice when he’s trash talking while playing a first-person shooter.

“You don’t seem as attached to McCall these days,” Danny comments as they’re killing some bad guys.

Stiles executes a difficult move and crows in triumph, then says, “We both have more friends now.”

“And his girlfriend kidnapped you,” Danny points out.

“I will admit that my feelings about Allison Argent are complicated at best,” Stiles agrees. “But we’ll be fine.”

“Well, you can always hang out with me if you need a break,” Danny offers.

“I thought this hang out sesh was just because your grandma wanted to get reacquainted with her old friend,” Stiles says, moving his shooter down a hallway.

Danny glances at him. “Jackson is moving to London.”

“What? When? Why?” Stiles asks.

Danny snorts. “His dad got an offer from an international law firm that he couldn’t pass up, and Jackson actually seemed pretty excited to go. So, soon.”

“I’m happy for him,” Stiles says honestly.

“You think he’s a douche,” Danny comments.

“Because he is,” Stiles replies. “But I can admit that part of his doucheyness comes from being deeply insecure, and that sucks.”

Danny bumps his shoulder. “You’re actually not terrible when you’re not acting like an idiot.”

“It turns out that getting kidnapped, tortured, and nearly dying, then finding out I can do magic, burns the idiot right out of you,” Stiles replies. “And whatever that experience didn’t, Moira is taking care of the rest.”

Danny grins. “Yeah, well, if she’s anything like Tutu, I could believe it.”

They exchange grins, and Stiles wonders if maybe he’s making another friend.

“Are you going to play lacrosse next year?” Danny asks.

Stiles grimaces. “Is there any point?”

“We have the whole summer ahead of us to find out,” Danny replies. “If you want.”

“I think Boyd and Isaac are going to play, too,” Stiles says. “And you couldn’t pay Scott to stay away.”

“So, we all practice together this summer,” Danny suggests. “In between magic lessons, I guess.”

Stiles smiles, and they play Halo until Alana announces that dinner is ready. Maybe he and Danny aren’t a lot alike, but they do have a couple of important things in common.

Namely, magic, and otherwise being normal.

~~~~~

Noah lets out a breath as Mark leaves his office. Noah had left him for last, mostly because he’d been pretty clear about what his response will be, and he trusts Mark to keep the others in line.

“Tell me something I didn’t already know,” had been Mark’s response. “Also, glad you survived. I’d hate to have to break in a new sheriff.”

And that’s the entire station on board. Noah knows that one of his deputies could change their minds; they might have hidden their discomfort only to turn on him later. Right now, though, he’s going to believe that he can trust them.

“Hey, sir,” Tara says. “Moira is here if you have time.”

“Yeah, send her back,” Noah replies. He knows that she was meeting with the Mahealanis that day.

Moira enters his office wearing a green dress and a dark blue denim jacket. Noah can admit that he catalogues those sorts of things—clothing, height, weight, eye and hair color—because of his training, not interest.

Still, he’s grown quite fond of Moira. She mothers Stiles in a way that Noah knows he needs, but without putting his back up or truly trying to replace Claudia. She does the same for all the younger pack members.

“How did the meeting go?” he asks.

She laughs. “Well, I got an answer for why Alana Mahealani was stalling me. Noelani wanted to see me again.”

There’s an undercurrent to the words that’s easy to pick up on. “Did you scandalize Stiles?”

“In the same way anyone scandalizes a teenager when they think an adult is too old for sex,” Moira replies, clearly amused. “I don’t know that we’ll start anything up again, but it was good to see my old friend.”

Noah nods. “Good, I’m glad, but that’s not why you stopped by.”

Moira takes a deep breath. “No,” she admits. “First, I’d like to tell Noelani and Alana about the pack, and necessarily Danny. Noelani plans to stick around awhile, and I’ll need her help to deal with the Nemeton and whatever’s coming. I trust her implicitly, and if I had thought she’d be willing to travel, I would have asked sooner.”

The idea sticks in Noah’s craw, but he can understand where Moira is coming from. The threat of the Nemeton—or whatever is contained inside it—is not something he can do much about. If Moira thinks the Mahealanis would be good allies, he trusts her. “Okay. I will agree to that on the condition that I meet with them when you do so.”

“Deal,” Moira says instantly. “Second, our castings have become more ominous. I need to know what’s been causing you to put in such long hours.”

Noah sighs. “I think someone is testing the boundaries. We’ve had a couple bodies drop, but one was in another county, so we’re not sure that it’s related.”

“Define ‘a couple,’” Moira says severely.

“Two since the last time we talked about it,” Noah replies. “And their throats were torn out.”

Moira frowns. “Is there any way I could see one of the bodies?”

Noah nods slowly. “Sure. The last one is with the M.E. We can head over there now if you want.”

“I do,” Moira replies. “I think it’s important.”

Moira has been around the station often enough that everyone calls out cheerful greetings. “How’s Stiles doing, ma’am?” Dave asks.

It’s now an open secret that Stiles has magic, and that Moira is his teacher; she’s becoming something of a fixture around the station.

“He’s doing just fine, Dave,” Moira replies with a wink that causes Dave to flush.

They head for the M.E.’s office, and Noah knows that Dr. Kelly normally works late, so he’s there when they arrive.

“Sheriff, I didn’t know you were coming,” he says, glancing at Moira.

“Just go with it,” Noah says wearily. “I’m ready to try anything.”

“Fair enough,” Kelly replies. “I’d be willing to consult a witch doctor at this point, because this is a mystery. It’s just the throat, no other depredations, but it’s just slightly different to the other animal attacks Peter Hale facilitated.”

He pulls the drawer open to reveal the most recent body, which is that of a man around Noah’s age, and he looks like he’d been living rough. Noah isn’t sure whether he’d been an omega, but he thinks it’s a distinct possibility.

Moira leans over the corpse and frowns. She puts a hand over his chest and closes her eyes.

“I was joking about the witch doctor thing,” Kelley murmurs.

“You might have been joking, but you aren’t wrong, either,” Noah replies.

“I’m no witch doctor,” Moira replies. “But I do know a thing or two about reading a body. Dr. Kelly is correct. This man was killed with one sharp blow. If a wild animal had done it, you would have seen additional injuries.”

“We also know that they were killed elsewhere and then dumped,” Noah says.

Moira reaches into her voluminous bag and pulls out what looks like a toothpick. She pricks the man’s arm, and to both Noah and Kelly’s surprise, a thick, black liquid oozes out.

“What the actual fuck?” Kelly demands, leaning in close. “I’m going to need a sample of that.”

Moira glances at him. “And what do you think you’re going to find?”

Kelly sighs. “I don’t pretend to understand everything that’s been going on, but it would be nice to have a few answers.”

Moira holds out a hand, and a small flame appears, dancing merrily. “There are more things on heaven and earth than dreamt of in our philosophies, Horatio.”

Kelly stares at her, and then he just shakes his head. “You know what? In a past life, I did my residency at one of the busiest ERs in the country, and the full moon is a whole thing.”

“You’re not wrong,” Noah says, and flashes his eyes. He knows it’s a risk, but it’s a calculated one, and Kelly has kept a cool head through everything.

“Huh.” Kelly slowly nods. “Yeah, okay. There are a lot of things that are starting to make sense. When did that happen?”

“Around the time Peter Hale died,” Noah admits. “He was responsible for the animal attacks, but Lahey and the others were killed by a demon.”

Kelly just shakes his head. “I don’t know why I’m not surprised.”

Moira has extinguished the flame in her hand. “It’s because there’s some part of you that knew something was up, just like you knew there was truth behind the full moon affecting people.”

“It makes as much sense as anything else does,” Kelly admits. “All right, so what am I going to find when I check that sample?”

“Blood,” Moira says simply. “And you’re going to be really surprised by that, because there will be debris in the blood that you can’t explain.”

Noah frowns. “What did you prick him with?”

“Mistletoe,” Moira replies. “It will pull a reaction out of a werewolf, even if they’re dead.”

Noah blows out a breath. “Motherfucker. Whoever is doing this is—what? Taunting me? Testing me?”

“Possibly both,” Moira admits.

“Hunters?” Noah asks.

Moira shakes her head. “I doubt it. Most hunters use wolfsbane bullets, although Gerard Argent preferred cutting werewolves in half.”

“Ah, shit, Sheriff,” Kelly says. “There was that case—“

“There was, and we’re pretty sure that it was Gerard Argent, but I have no proof,” Noah admits. “Now he’s in prison for shooting up the station, and I don’t think he’s getting out before the cancer kills him.”

“Small favors,” Kelly mutters. “Okay, well, I’ll still run pathology, just for my own curiosity if nothing else. Let me know if there’s anything else you need from me.”

“Same here, Dr. Kelly,” Noah replies, and then they leave the morgue and exit the hospital.

Noah sighs as they climb into his county vehicle. “I don’t like this.”

“No, I don’t either,” Moira says. “Whoever this is, they’re definitely testing the waters. It might just be another werewolf, or a were-creature, but—there’s a rumor.”

“Hit me with it,” Noah replies, just sitting behind the wheel, not turning the key.

Moira sighs. “There’s a pack of alphas that like to add other strong alphas to their number. They’re actually the sort of werewolves the hunters ought to go after, because they force—or attempt to force—the alpha to kill their own pack members.”

“But the hunters don’t go after them, because this pack targets werewolves, not humans,” Noah mutters. “I could really grow to hate those assholes.”

Moira snorts. “You’re not the only one. But Noah, this is a pack full of alphas. If they’re testing you—if they target you and your pack—they’re going to be hard to take down. And you will have to kill at least some of them.”

“I’ll take out the whole pack if I have to,” Noah says evenly. “I didn’t hesitate to protect my pack with the omega, and I won’t hesitate with the alphas either. Besides, I have no problem using dirty tricks.”

Moira smiles. “The beauty of having a mature Alpha, Noah.”

Noah likes Derek a lot, but he would have been flailing around for sure. He’s certainly not going to put the kids in a position where they have to fight. The whole station is in the know now, and so is their medical examiner. There are at least a couple of doctors at the hospital that they plan to read in, so they’ll have allies there, too.

“This alpha pack isn’t going to get much purchase in Beacon County,” Moira adds. “But I’ll come up with a few things just in case. I’d like to know where the bodies were dumped, just in case there’s some significance.”

Noah knows exactly where the bodies had been found, and he doesn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed when she says, “It appears to be random. If there’s any significance to the locations, I can’t sense it.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing,” Noah mutters. “All right, let’s get home. I kind of want to check on the kids now.”

He’s glad to find everyone there when he walks through the front door. All of the kids—including Derek—are sitting around the dining room table, working on homework. Scott’s grades have improved tremendously, and Erica has buckled down as well. All of them will finish out the year with a 3.0 or above.

“Hey, Dad,” Stiles says, looking up with a grin. “Everything okay?”

Noah makes a split-second decision. “I’m glad you’re all here. I wanted to talk to you about what’s going on.”

Stiles, especially, doesn’t do well with a lack of information, and Noah doesn’t want him poking around, trying to “help,” and then getting himself into trouble.

And Stiles is certain to know about the additional bodies. His kid is going to make a great detective one day, but that is a day far in the future.

Everyone looks up from what they’re doing, closing text books or putting their pencils down, and they give him their full attention. Derek’s brow creases in concern, and Stiles worries his bottom lip.

Scott and Erica just look interested. Boyd and Isaac have neutral expressions.

Noah sits down at the head of the table, with Moira taking the other end. “I don’t want you all to worry.” He looks at Stiles when he says it. “But as Stiles probably already knows, we’ve found a body inside the county line, plus a couple of others outside it. It is likely that someone is testing our boundaries, and maybe taunting me. It’s not an emergency, there’s no need for the buddy system yet, but Stiles—I need you not to go poking into it.”

“It’s more than that,” Stiles says flatly. “You wouldn’t be trying to reassure me otherwise.”

“There is a rumor,” Moira says slowly. “Of a pack of alphas. Their leader targets other packs, trying to force that alpha to join him. Of course, a strong alpha is able to resist him, so he’s not always successful.”

“You think they might be targeting my dad,” Stiles says, his voice dull. “I did this.”

Noah takes a deep breath. “Stiles, look at me.”

Stiles is staring at the text book in front of him, and he reluctantly looks up. “I did this. I got Scott bitten, therefore, I’m responsible.”

“First of all, you aren’t responsible for anyone’s actions but your own, and you couldn’t have predicted werewolves,” Noah replies. “Second, you weren’t the one who bit me. And finally, I’m the sheriff of this county. I am responsible for this county, and everyone in this pack. Even if they try something, I’m going to respond appropriately. I’m telling you all this so you’ll be on your guard, not to scare you.”

Noah holds Stiles’ gaze, and he waits until Stiles nods. “Got it, Pops.”

“Good, I’m glad you do,” Noah replies. “This isn’t a code red, but I do want everyone to keep an eye out.”

Derek clears his throat. “Do you think we’ll have any more trouble with the hunters?”

Noah shrugs. “I would hope that I’ve made it clear that I’ll hold them to the rule of law, and if they step out of line, I won’t hesitate to arrest them, too.”

“You’ve protected us up to now,” Scott says blithely. “I trust you’ll keep us safe.”

Isaac, Erica, and Boyd all nod, completely relaxed, and Noah can’t help but be pleased by the faith they have in him.

~~~~~

Derek hasn’t heard about an alpha pack, but that doesn’t surprise him. He’s realized that there’s a lot his mom hadn’t told him. Maybe she’d told Laura, maybe Peter had known, but Derek hadn’t been deemed worthy of the information.

Than again, before the fire, Derek had been wrapped up in his girlfriend and basketball. Being a werewolf had just been background noise.

Laura had been the designated future alpha, not Derek. Derek had assumed he’d go to college, then stay in the Hale pack. He hadn’t even thought to have a position as right hand; someone else with more experience would have been chosen.

Derek is reviewing search warrant procedures for his upcoming class, and he can see how antsy Stiles is. His deposition is the following day, on Monday, and the news about the possible alpha pack has made him even more anxious than he would have otherwise been.

“Come on,” Derek says, closing his book. “I need to run an errand, and you’re going to come with me.”

“What?” Stiles startles. “Why?”

“Because you need to burn off some energy, and I want to see if my uncle left anything at the old house,” Derek replies.

Stiles frowns. “Haven’t you already looked?”

“Might as well look again,” Derek replies. “We could get lucky.”

Stiles’ eyes narrow, and then he says, “Yeah, but let’s stop by the station first. I have an idea.”

Derek is willing to go along with it. A focused Stiles is a much less anxious Stiles.

The rest of the pack have scattered for the day. Boyd and Erica are out on what they insist isn’t a date, and Scott and Isaac decided to blow off steam by playing lacrosse.

Stiles had begged off lacrosse in favor of magic, and Derek wonders whether Stiles will give it up. He’s talking about taking self defense courses as well, but he keeps going back and forth.

Derek drives the Camaro, and they enter the station. Tara is out front, and she smiles when she sees them. “Derek, Stiles, how are you?”

“We’re good,” Stiles replies. “How are you?”

“Five by five,” Tara says. “Your dad is out on a call with Paul and Dave right now.”

Stiles grimaces. “Another body?”

Tara gives him a look. “You know I can’t give you that information.” Stiles responds with a pleading look, and Derek watches Tara soften. “It’s actually a drug case. We got word about a possible meth lab, and your dad and Paul thought they could sniff it out.”

Derek watches as Stiles’ shoulders drop. “I guess that’s not great, but…”

“I know what you mean,” Tara says sympathetically.

“We aren’t actually here to see him,” Stiles admits. “Do you think we could borrow the metal detector?”

Tara’s eyebrows go up. “And why on earth would you need that?”

“To see if there was something left behind at the old Hale house,” Stiles replies. “In a secret location, because Derek has already looked.”

Tara frowns, her dark eyes thoughtful. “All right. But you’ve got three hours, and then you bring it back.”

“You got it,” Stiles promises.

“Why are we borrowing a metal detector?” Derek asks as they leave the station with the machine.

Stiles glances at him. “Would you say that your uncle was fairly technologically savvy?”

Derek nods. “Yeah, I guess.”

“So, if he was storing information on or in something, it probably wouldn’t be in a notebook, right?” Stiles says. “It would probably be on a laptop, or something like that.”

Derek is impressed with Stiles’ ingenuity. “I looked for that, too.”

“Right, but Peter kept things under wraps for a long time,” Stiles says patiently. “He probably put it in a secret compartment. With any luck, he’ll have assumed that he was the only one who knew where it was, and we won’t have to figure out his password.”

“Yeah, let’s hope so,” Derek replies, “because I have no idea what that would be.”

Derek pulls up in front of the burned-out hulk of his old house. Seeing the place still fills him with an overwhelming sense of grief. Next to him, Stiles shudders. “Gah, this place gives me the creeps.”

Since it’s where Stiles was tortured and nearly died, Derek can’t blame him for the reaction. “Sorry.”

“No, no, I’ll be fine.” Stiles takes a deep breath and rubs his hands on the legs of his jeans. “Let’s do this.”

They get into the house, and Stiles switches on the metal detector, and it looks a lot more high-tech than any Derek has seen before. “Why would the station have something like that?”

“There were a lot of grants available after 9/11,” Stiles says absently. “To help combat terrorism. Even smaller departments like ours jumped on that bandwagon. The powers-that-be thought the metal detectors would help with locating explosives. Dad has tested it out, and he actually found some spare change in the backyard.”

Derek snorts. “How much?”

“Not even enough to buy a candy bar,” Stiles admits. He runs the metal detector over the dusty floorboards without much success. “Let’s try the stairs.”

They get a reaction on the third riser, with the metal detector beeping. “Here we go,” Stiles crows.

Derek extends his claws and pries away the wood to reveal a box, and inside the box is a laptop with a power cord. “Let’s get this back to the house,” Derek says. “We can find out what Peter had.”

Stiles looks around the house before they leave, and he says, “I think you should tear this place down, Der.”

“Planning on it,” Derek admits. “I’m kind of hoping to convince your dad to build a pack house here.”

“That would be good,” Stiles replies. “We’re going to need the space, and I know it would make Dad feel better if Isaac and Boyd had their own rooms and stuff, instead of just crashing wherever. You should talk to him about it.”

“You worried about the deposition tomorrow?” Derek asks.

“A little,” Stiles admits. “I mean, I figure it’s where they’ll really grill me on how I escaped, and maybe cast doubt on my story.”

Derek frowns. “But you can demonstrate your lock picking skills.”

“I can demonstrate my lock-picking skills while I’m not under duress,” Stiles corrects him as they load the metal detector into the car. “But for every argument that humans can do amazing things while high on adrenaline, there’s another where I wouldn’t have been able to do what I did, and therefore am not telling the truth.”

Derek shakes his head. “Stiles, they have photos of your injuries.”

“Oh, I don’t think there will be any doubt about whether I was kidnapped,” Stiles says. “But I also don’t think that Allison’s parents are going to back down without a fight. The real question is what they’re willing to sacrifice, or attempt to sacrifice, in order to get her off.”

Derek has to acknowledge the truth of that statement. He wouldn’t put much past the Argents at this point, including encouraging Allison to lie under oath.

“Kate won’t get off on the murders, though,” Stiles adds, “and I already knew that Allison would get a sweetheart deal on the kidnapping.”

“I guess that’s the best we can hope for then,” Derek says grimly.

He and Stiles drop off the metal detector before heading home. They sit down at the dining room table with the laptop between them, and they plug it in and boot it up. “And what do you know?” Stiles crows. “Peter didn’t bother to password protect the laptop.”

“I doubt he thought anyone would be able to find it,” Derek mutters. “It looks like there are a lot of files on here. It’s going to take time to get through them.”

Stiles cracks his knuckles. “No time like the present to start.”

Derek clicks through a few files, finding random lists, none of which tell him much. He does find what looks like a list of holdings, and maybe a list of packs and hunter families, with contacts in both. None of it is labeled in a way that makes it easy for Derek to identify the contents.

“This is going to be tedious,” Stiles comments.

“I can go through it by myself,” Derek offers. “If you have something else you need to do.”

Stiles sighs. “Yeah, I should probably study for my math final. I doubt I’ll be up for it tomorrow.”

“I’ll let you know if I find anything interesting,” Derek promises.

Stiles goes and grabs his text book, and then settles down at the table next to Derek. They work in companionable silence until Moira returns from her errand, whatever it had been. Based on the faint floral scent that isn’t her own, Derek suspects she’d been with Noelani—not that he’s going to say as much.

“Is your dad home yet?” she asks Stiles.

Stiles shakes his head. “No, but he promised he’d make it home for dinner if he could.”

The front door opens, and Noah calls, “Stiles?”

“In the dining room, Dad!” Stiles replies.

Noah comes in alone, and he frowns at Stiles. “What did you need the metal detector for?”

“We found Peter Hale’s laptop in a hidden compartment,” Stiles replies. “We needed the metal detector to locate it.”

Noah shakes his head. “Well, I’m glad you found what you were looking for.”

Moira clears her throat. “Noah, we need to talk about tomorrow.”

Derek half-rises. “I can leave.”

“No, stay,” Noah says. “If Stiles is okay with it.”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Stiles says quickly.

Moira takes a deep breath. “I don’t think you should go with Stiles, Noah. In fact, I don’t think any of the werewolves—and I include Paul in that—should go.”

Noah frowns mightily. “And why wouldn’t I go with Stiles?”

“Because I think the Argents might attempt to either trigger you or otherwise harm you,” Moira says bluntly. “You’re too tempting a target.”

Stiles rubs his eyes. “She’s right, Dad. You know she is. They could use wolfsbane, try to shoot you, or just make it look like you’re unfit to be in office somehow.”

Noah tips his head back with a groan. “I hate that you’re both right. Okay, Moira, I’m assuming you’re willing to go with him.”

Moira nods. “Yes, of course.”

“I’m going to call Dave, see if he’s available,” Noah says. “Him or Mark would be my preference.”

“I like Dave,” Stiles says. “I mean, I like Mark, too, but Dave’s my preference.”

Noah gives Stiles a look. “You just think he’s pretty.”

Stiles turns a deep red. “Dad! Rude!” He pauses. “I didn’t think you knew.”

“That you were bi?” Noah asks wryly. “Oh, that cat’s well out of the bag. For the record, I don’t care, as long as you’re safe.”

Stiles slumps down in his chair. “Yeah, well, no one to be safe with, so I am 100 percent safe. Nothing to worry about here.”

Noah snorts. “Let me call Dave.”

When Noah leaves the room, Stiles scrubs his hands over his still-red face. “Oh, my god, did that just happen?”

“Not a lot of privacy in a pack with an involved Alpha,” Derek says soothingly. “And it’s not like it matters. Not unless you fall in love with a hunter.”

“That’s Scott’s bag, not mine,” Stiles replies. “Besides, I’m not risking my dad’s life, or the safety of the pack, when I could find someone else to get my rocks off with.”

Moira raises her eyebrows. “But not fall in love with?”

Stiles shrugs. “I’m sixteen. I don’t have any delusions that the person I fall in love with today will be the person I grow old with tomorrow. Statistically speaking, the divorce rate decreases as a function of the couple’s ages when they get together.”

Derek frowns. “So…you don’t believe in love.”

“I didn’t say that!” Stiles protests. “I believe in love—familial love, platonic love, even romantic love. But I’ve been trying to woo Lydia Martin with grand gestures for years now with no joy. I’d rather focus my attention on something I can control.”

And Derek knows that’s magic and pack business, and Stiles’ own choices. Derek gets it; he knows what it’s like to have that choice taken away from you, and then to cling tightly to whatever sense of control is left.

“I love my pack,” Stiles adds softly. “And the pack is always going to come first, because I know that it will always come first for my dad, too. Before, it was my dad and Scott, and now it’s expanded, but the feeling is the same.”

“Which is why you’re going to do great tomorrow,” Noah says, coming back into the room and dropping a kiss on the top of Stiles’ head. “Dave is going to go with you, but not in uniform.”

“Did he ask you for a favor?” Stiles asks, smiling up at Noah.

“Soon as we’re past the next full moon, I’ll give him the bite,” Noah admits. “But I was planning on doing that anyway, since he wants it. Paul will likely be a bit put out that I’m not sending him, but I agree with you,” he says, looking at Moira. “We don’t need to give them a shot at the pack, or at me.”

Derek frowns. “At least not more than they have already.”

“Depositions are a natural consequence of a case of this nature,” Noah says. “That said, the prosecutor has asked that you be there an hour early, Stiles. She wouldn’t say why.”

“It’s not the DA?” Stiles asks. “Mr. Brogan?”

“No, it’s a new ADA, Amber Steinhauser,” Noah replies. “But I wouldn’t worry about it too much. Brogan has a lot on his plate, and handling one deposition…”

“He delegated,” Stiles says.

Noah rubs the top of his head. “He delegated. Now, are you all hungry, and do you know who’s going to be here for dinner tonight?”

Stiles pulls out his phone. “Yes, and I can find out.”

There’s something about this whole situation that’s making Derek uncomfortable, but he sets it aside. Stiles is worried enough right now; he doesn’t need Derek’s concern on top of his own.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” Derek murmurs after Stiles shoots off his group text.

Stiles glances up, his brown eyes having just a hint of gold. “Yeah, I know,” he replies. “You and Dad will make sure of it.”

And it’s that perfect assurance that lets Derek know how much faith Stiles has in him—and Noah.

---