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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Chapter 5

Stiles wakes up early the morning of the deposition, not having slept much. He doesn’t have a lot of dress clothes, but his dad had taken him out the week before for slacks that fit, a dress shirt, and a navy blue tie. Stiles showers and dresses carefully, and he finds his dad waiting in the kitchen.

He has a pot of coffee and a plate of scrambled eggs and toast waiting for Stiles, and he reaches out to straighten Stiles’ tie. “Looking good, kiddo.”

“I’ll be okay,” Stiles says. “And I’ll feel a lot better knowing that you’re here with a whole station standing behind you.”

“I’d feel better if the whole station was with you,” Noah admits. “But you’re going to do fine. I have to work today, but I’ll keep my phone on me. If you need me for anything, just call.”

“I will,” Stiles promises.

Derek wanders down from his room, which no one is even pretending isn’t his anymore. He still has his efficiency apartment, and Stiles figures that if Derek ever dates someone, that’s where he’ll take them.

Not that he loves the idea of Derek dating someone, but he does like the idea of Derek being happy.

He casually touches Stiles’ shoulder. “Looking good.”

“Thanks, man,” Stiles replies.

“Call if you need me,” Derek says. “I’m just going to be studying.”

“Dave is going with us, so I think we’ll be covered, but I promise to call the cavalry if necessary,” Stiles promises, knowing why both his dad and Derek are making that point.

Stiles has been known to avoid calling for help, but he’ll have Moira and Dave along with him, so he’s feeling okay about things.

The front door opens as Stiles is finishing his breakfast, and Moira calls out, “We’re here! I met Dave coming in.”

“We’re in the kitchen,” his dad calls.

Moira is looking chic in a navy blue pencil skirt and peach blouse with high heels. Dave is wearing plain clothes—jeans, work boots, and a green henley that stretches across his broad shoulders, with his shield on a chain around his neck.

Stiles is—definitely not straight. Definitely.

Derek and his dad shoot him identical smirks, and Stiles closes his eyes, wondering if maybe the floor could open up and swallow him. Because that would be swell.

“Thanks for doing this, Dave,” his dad greets him, without saying anything about Stiles, thank god.

“Yeah, sure, no problem,” Dave says easily, his eyes going to the coffee pot. “You mind if I top up?”

“Not at all,” his dad says. “Moira? I have a spare travel mug if you’d like one.”

“Love some,” Moira replies.

Stiles finishes his breakfast and loads his dishes in the dishwasher, and then grabs a Coke out of the fridge.

“We should get going,” Moira says. “We don’t want to be late.”

She gives his dad a significant look, and Stiles wouldn’t be surprised to find out that his dad has given her and Dave additional instructions.

“Come on, kid,” Dave says. “I’m driving.”

Stiles isn’t terribly surprised to find out that Dave’s personal vehicle is a well-maintained Subaru, with the faint scent of dog. “Sorry,” Dave says. “I did vacuum, and I have a couple of lint rollers if we need them once we get there.”

“What kind of dogs do you have?” Stiles asks, stretching out in the backseat.

“Two German shepherds,” Dave replies. “Cocoa and Nibs. They’re brother and sister.”

Stiles snickers at the names. “That’s awesome. Are you worried about them freaking out about the bite?”

“Nah,” Dave says easily. “I figure I’ll just be the leader of my own pack. They’re fine with Paul, and I’ve brought them to see Deaton recently for their yearly check ups while Scott was there. They were fine with him, too.”

Dave regales them with the adventures of Cocoa and Nibs on their way to San Francisco, which is where the deposition is taking place. “I wanted to get them certified as K-9s, but they like to egg each other on, and if I certified just one, the other one would never stop pouting.”

Stiles laughs. “I need to meet your dogs, dude.”

“We’ll swing by my place on our way back into town, and you can,” Dave promises. “They love meeting new people. They do not have a killer instinct.”

Stiles cackles. “So, everyone is their BFF?”

“I have faith that they’d protect me if an intruder came in,” Dave replies. “At least, I think they will.”

Dave is like that—a jokester who refuses to take anything super seriously, which is why he’s one of Stiles’ favorite deputies.

Then again, Stiles likes all of his dad’s deputies.

“You may get a chance to try that out,” Moira warns him. “If you take the bite.”

“The sheriff offered and I accepted,” Dave says easily. “And maybe so, but I don’t have any family that would claim me, so the idea of being part of the pack is pretty alluring. I was taught from an early age to hold family above all else. I just didn’t realize it meant that I wouldn’t be included if I was gay.”

“Sucks, man,” Stiles replies, for lack of anything better to say.

Dave shrugs philosophically. “People who put strings on you don’t really love you. I’d rather surround myself with people who accept me unconditionally.”

“That’s a very healthy point of view,” Moira comments.

“I’ve had time to wrap my head around it,” Dave replies as he pulls into a parking garage near Kate’s attorney’s office.

From what Stiles knows, Allison and Kate Argent are being represented by big shot lawyers from San Francisco, although they’re from different firms. Today’s deposition is for Kate’s case, so Stiles is a little surprised to see Allison and her parents through the glass walls of a conference room visible from reception.

A tall, slim woman who looks to be in her mid-thirties meets them. “You must be Stiles. I’m Amber Steinhauser, the ADA. Let’s take this somewhere a little more private.”

She leads them to another conference room, this one with a marble-topped conference table and large, leather office chairs. “Have a seat, Stiles,” Amber says. “I thought your dad was going to be present today.”

“He couldn’t make it,” Stiles says bluntly. “This is Moira Keynes, a family friend, and Deputy Dave Anders, here for my security.”

Amber nods. “Very well. First of all, I want to make it clear that you’re not in any trouble.”

Stiles shifts and frowns. “I didn’t think I was.”

“Allison’s attorney reached out to me last week to indicate that Allison’s testimony had changed,” Amber continues. “I thought it best to meet with her ahead of your deposition, so we’re prepared.”

Stiles feels his stomach flutter with anxiety. “Do you think I’m lying?”

“No, I don’t,” Amber says shortly. “But they’re going to accuse you of being untruthful about something. Until now, Allison’s story has matched yours closely, which is why we were willing to make a deal with her. If she’s changing her story now, it’s either because she thinks she’s going to get a better deal, or she’s decided to protect her aunt. My hope is that she’ll change her mind about doing that once she sees you in person.”

Stiles relaxes a bit at that. As long as Steinhauser doesn’t think he’s lying, he can deal with the Argents.

“That seems a bit unfair to Stiles,” Moira objects in a mild tone.

“It is,” Amber says bluntly. “But I’d be bad at my job if I didn’t prepare for any eventuality, and Stiles stands the best chance for shaking the truth out.”

Stiles shrugs. “It’s fine. I’ll do it.”

Amber smiles at him, and it’s a shark’s smile. “Good. Thank you. We’ll get through this meeting, and then start the deposition with Kate’s attorney.”

She leads the three of them into the other conference room, where the Argents are sitting with Allison’s attorney. Stiles immediately notices that Chris is haggard and weary, while Victoria glares at Stiles icily. Allison’s hands are twisted together in her lap, and she’s staring down at them.

Stiles takes the seat across from Allison at Amber’s prodding, and Moira sits to his right, across from Victoria. Allison’s attorney, a blonde woman in her forties, nods at them. “Thanks for agreeing to meet with us. I believe we can get this cleared up quickly.”

“Stiles, this is Renee Martin,” Amber says. “And you already know the Argents.”

Stiles bobs his head but doesn’t say anything.

Renee clears her throat. “There are conflicting reports on how you were freed, Stiles. New information suggests that you would have been unable to free yourself.”

“I don’t know why you’re lying about it,” Victoria bursts out. “You should just tell the truth. Someone else unlocked those handcuffs.”

Stiles raises his eyebrows. “Deputy Anders? Could I borrow your cuffs?”

Dave takes his cuffs out of the pouch on his belt and hands them to Stiles. Stiles takes a piece of wire out of his pocket. Partly, he’d been expecting this line of questioning, and partly, he doesn’t leave home these days without something on his person that he can use to pick a lock.

With a defiant look in Victoria’s direction, he snaps the cuffs on himself, then picks the locks in under three minutes. He hands the cuffs back to Dave and puts the piece of wire back in his pocket.

“That doesn’t prove anything,” Victoria sneers. “The circumstances were completely different.”

Allison’s head comes up, and Stiles can see the heat in her eyes. “Oh, my god, Mom, I’m not going to change my story to suit you!”

Stiles is confident that he can literally hear the sound of a record scratching.

Amber straightens in her chair. “Excuse me? I thought we were here because you were changing your testimony, Miss Argent.”

“Allison!” Victoria hisses. “We talked about this.”

“No, you talked, and I just nodded along,” Allison replies hotly. “Do I wish that I had gone back to free Stiles? Yes, of course I do. Do I wish that Kate had a change of heart and gone back to let him go? Yes, but we all know that she didn’t, because she was at home with us until someone called her to tell her that Stiles escaped!”

Amber glares at Renee. “Did you know about this?”

Renee swallows audibly. “No. I was just notified that Allison wanted to change her story.”

“I don’t feel comfortable continuing this conversation in my mother’s presence,” Allison announces.

Renee looks at Victoria. “Mrs. Argent, I’m going to have to ask you to wait for us in the lobby.”

“May I remind you who pays the bills?” Victoria asks icily.

“And I will remind you, as I have on multiple occasions, that Allison is my client, no matter who pays my fees,” Renee replies, just as stiffly.

“Victoria,” Chris says, and his tone has an air of finality.

Victoria stands and walks out, her back ramrod straight.

Allison looks at her dad. “I warned you.”

“Yes, you did,” Chris admits. He stands up and kisses Allison on the forehead. “I promise, I will fix this.” Then he follows his wife out.

“I’m really sorry, Stiles,” Allison says. “Really sorry.”

“Yeah, you said that before,” Stiles says slowly. “And I said that I didn’t forgive you. I’ve changed my mind.”

Allison’s dimples flash briefly.

“Allison, you should have told me that your mother was pressuring you to change your testimony,” Renee says wearily.

Allison glances at her. “You don’t have to live with her.”

“And now, neither do you,” Amber inserts. “Suborning perjury is a crime.”

“I already warned my dad that I wasn’t going to continue living with the both of them if she went through with this plan,” Allison replies. “That’s what he meant. Dad agreed that we’d either find a different place to live or that she would.”

Renee shakes her head. “I still wish you’d found a way to tell me.”

“You don’t know my mother,” Allison mutters.

Stiles bites his tongue, because there are many things he could say, and none of them are nice.

“So, you’re not changing your story,” Amber confirms.

Allison shakes her head. “No one freed Stiles, at least no one I know of.”

Renee clears her throat. “Allison, I’m going to insist that you contact me if your dad doesn’t keep his end of the bargain. At any hour of the day or night. If you can find a pay phone, you call me collect.”

Allison nods. “Promise.”

Renee sighs and glances at Amber. “Are we done here?”

“More than,” Amber replies.

“I’m sorry to have wasted your time,” Renee says.

Amber shakes her head. “I don’t view this as a waste of time, and I’ll be informing Mr. Brogan and the judge that your client maintained her honesty even under great parental pressure.”

Renee manages a smile even as she ushers Allison out of the conference room. “Thank you, Amber. I always thought you played fair.”

“I do when they deserve it,” Amber replies. She turns to Stiles after they’re alone. “Thank you. I don’t know if she would have gone along with her mom’s play if you hadn’t been here.”

“She wouldn’t have,” Stiles says, tipping his head back. “She didn’t want to be here, doing this. That’s why she apologized. She was using this to get some separation from her mom. It’s leverage on her dad.”

“At least her dad has his kid’s best interests in mind,” Dave mutters from his position behind Stiles.

Moira hums under her breath. “He does. Victoria has the family in mind. She’s trying to save the Argents as a whole.”

“Who does that?” Amber asks under her breath. “Okay, I’m going to get us set up for the deposition. I’ll have the receptionist bring you guys something to drink.”

Moira glances at Stiles when she leaves. “Do you really forgive her?”

“I wouldn’t wish Victoria Argent on my worst enemy,” Stiles replies. “And that’s not Allison. She sucks on a cellular level.”

“She made my balls crawl back up into my body,” Dave mutters. “And I don’t even know the woman.”

Moira chuckles. “I agree that she’s the biggest threat from the Argents, at least among those not currently behind bars.”

“Do you think Amber is going to charge her?” Stiles asks.

Dave snorts. “No, but she will use it as leverage to keep her star witness from interference.”

Stiles takes a deep breath. “Well, my bet is that Kate’s lawyers are probably going to hear from Victoria that she was unsuccessful, and this deposition is going to go very differently than they thought.”

“I guess it makes sense,” Dave says slowly. “Allison is already getting a good deal.”

“Some hunter families are known to be matriarchal,” Moira says. “Allison is already getting a bargain, so they would use her to try and save Kate.”

Stiles frowns. “But she has murder charges, and that’s worse than kidnapping!”

“Could be that they think they can beat the murder charges,” Moira replies. “It wouldn’t be the first time someone thought they could go to trial and be acquitted.”

Kate is in prison, of course, so it’s just her attorneys doing the deposition, a man who looks to be about Gerard’s age, and another who has to be his son.

Stiles really wants to make a smart ass comment about lawyer families running with hunter families, but he knows better, and he knows that he needs to mind his p’s and q’s.

From the first question, Stiles can tell that they’re irritated, probably because they didn’t get what they wanted out of Allison.

They hammer away on him with regard to his escape, and Stiles once against asks to borrow Dave’s handcuffs and demonstrates his ability to pick them.

“That doesn’t prove you did that under the circumstances as they existed at the time,” the older man says irritably. They’re both named Mr. Bellows and hadn’t offered their first names, so Stiles is mentally referring to them as Old Asshole and Younger Asshole.

Stiles leans back in his seat and pulls up him most insolent expression. “Well, you could always suggest field testing it. You kidnap me, electrocute me, smack me around, and cuff me to a bed frame, and we can see if I’m able to do it again.” He pauses for effect. “Of course, that would be illegal, and you’d probably be disbarred, so your mileage may vary on that.”

Younger Asshole has apparently been appointed to play nice cop. “Come, Mr. Stilinski. You can see why we’d find it hard to believe that you freed yourself.”

“I don’t,” Stiles replies, “since I just demonstrated my skills, and Allison has already said that she didn’t free me, and Kate was with them when she received word of my escape.”

“You could be covering for someone else,” Younger Asshole says, in what he probably thinks is a persuasive tone.

“I’m not,” Stiles says bluntly. “I’m a self-rescuing princess, thank you very much.”

There’s a muffled snicker-snort from Dave that he turns into a cough at the last moment.

Neither asshole seems to know quite what to do with Stiles, and they abandon that line of questioning after a couple of more snide inquiries. After that, they move on to other questions, probably hoping to catch Stiles out: how does he know that it was Kate with Allison? Did he really think that Kate was going to kill him? And so on.

Stiles keeps his answers to what he experienced, refusing to opine on Kate’s motives or her plans for him. He doesn’t know what she was trying to accomplish; he isn’t inside her head. He couldn’t say why she’d kidnapped him rather than someone else.

Finally, Old Asshole says, “I think we’re done here.”

They don’t say anything else to Stiles, not even to thank him for his time, as they file out of the room.

Amber waits until they’re gone to say, “That went very well, Stiles. You did great.”

“Dad said to keep my answers short, to the point, and concrete,” Stiles replies.

Amber nods. “That was good advice. This should be the only deposition required of you.”

“What are the odds that she pleads out?” Stiles asks.

Amber shakes her head. “It’s zero at this point. We’re not offering her a deal that would entice her to do so, and she has murder charges pending in multiple jurisdictions. Plus, I wouldn’t put it past the Argents to try another escape attempt.”

Stiles frowns. “What about Gerard?”

“He’s not doing well,” Amber replies. “If he makes it another month, I’ll be surprised.”

Stiles nods. “Thanks for your help today.”

“Take care of yourself, Stiles,” Amber replies. “I’ll be in touch if anything changes.”

As they leave the office, Stiles asks, “Can we get In-N-Out? Because I could really go for a burger.”

“After that performance, you can have whatever you like,” Moira replies, putting an arm around his shoulders. “Because that was quite impressive.”

Stiles grins and fires off a quick text to his dad to let him know that they’ve finished up, and will be heading back.

“You still want to stop by and meet Cocoa and Nibs?” Dave asks.

“Absolutely,” Stiles replies readily. “I could use some doggie company after swimming with sharks.”

~~~~~

Noah is relieved when he gets Stiles’ text, letting him know that they’re finished with the deposition and will be heading back. Stiles knows how worried he is, so Noah gets a string of texts at steady intervals after that: a picture of his double cheeseburger from In-N-Out, Moira stretched across the backseat, her feet propped on the side door, and finally, Moira sends a picture of Stiles under a mountain of dog.

“Oh, no,” Noah mutters, and leaves his office.

Paul is typing up a report in the open area where the deputies’ desks are, but he glances up when he sees Noah barreling down on him. “Do we need to mount a rescue mission, sir?”

“We do,” Noah replies, turning the phone so Paul can see the grainy picture.

“Aren’t those Dave’s dogs?” Paul asks.

“Pretty sure,” Noah says.

Paul frowns. “Okay? They’re just puppies, really. Stiles isn’t in any danger.”

“It’s not Stiles I’m worried about,” Noah replies. “It’s the state of my couch when Stiles inevitably argues for getting a couple of dogs.”

“Just because he argues for it doesn’t mean it’s going to happen, sir,” Paul says, clearly amused. “You could put your foot down.”

Noah shakes his head. “I could, yes, but I know my kid, and we’re going to end up with a dog. Next thing I know it’ll be a certified service animal, and I’ll have to deal with reports from the school about how it growled at Stiles’ chemistry teacher, because god knows I want to growl at him.”

Paul eyes light up with laughter. “You sound awfully sure about something that hasn’t even happened yet. He could just be getting grass stains on his nice clothing and having some fun with Dave’s goofy dogs.”

“Dammit, he’s definitely getting grass stains,” Noah grumbles, but he feels his lips tilt up in a smile. “Good thing the dry cleaner here is good.”

“Tara’s working the night shift today,” Paul says. “Think I might follow you home, if that’s all right.”

“You’re pack,” Noah murmurs. “I don’t mind a bit.”

He sees a couple of curious looks sent their way, and Noah knows that some of those at the station will ask for the bite, and not just Dave. Dave comes from a large, close-knit family that had rejected him when he came out, and he craves that same connection. There will be others who feel the same way.

And some, like Mark, have their own families, and will be content to be pack-adjacent.

“You hear from Stiles?” Mark calls out as he enters the station.

“He said it went well,” Noah replies. “I’m sure I’ll get all the details from him when I get home.”

“Tell him we’re all thinking of him, Sheriff,” Maria says, pausing on her way to her desk.

“He’ll appreciate that,” Noah replies. “Let’s get out of here, Paul. I’m not sure what Stiles will get up to in my absence. He might have already found a dog. Scott knows he has some making up to do, so lord knows he’d help.”

Stiles hasn’t made it home yet, but the others are there. Derek appears to have succeeded in herding them all into the dining room, where they’re working on homework.

All of them look up when Noah enters. “Have you heard from Stiles?” Erica asks anxiously.

“He’s fine,” Noah says. “I came home to stop him from adopting a dog—or more than one.”

Scott frowns. “Why does Stiles want to adopt a dog?”

Noah pulls the picture up on his phone and shows it to the rest of the pack. “Oh, those are Deputy Anders’ dogs, Cocoa and Nibs,” Scott says easily. “They’re really great. Stiles looks like he’s having a great time.”

“Dave probably took Stiles by as a treat after the deposition,” Paul says. “He likes to show off those dogs like some people show off their kids.”

Noah catches his sly expression, and he gives Paul a look to indicate that he’d caught the subtle dig and isn’t rising to the bait.

The front door opens and Stiles comes in. “Dad! What are you doing home? Is everything okay?”

Noah puts his hands on his hips when he sees the two huge German shepherds on either side of him. “Moira sent me a picture.”

Stiles grins broadly. “Yeah, aren’t they great? This one is Cocoa, and this one is Nibs,”

Both dogs are staring at Stiles adoringly.

Noah glares at Dave. “Seriously?”

“I didn’t know my dogs were going to fall head over heels!” Dave protests. “I just thought it might be a nice stress relief after his deposition!”

Moira scoots inside behind Dave. “I could have told you that, you know. Stiles’ connection to the earth is profound, as are most animals’.”

“I’m just a new, shiny toy, that’s all,” Stiles says, glancing down at the dogs. “Go to your dad now. I’ll still be here.”

They push their noses into Stiles’ dangling hands and then go right to Dave.

“Well, that’s a relief,” Dave mutters.

“However, that does bring me to my next point,” Stiles begins.

Noah’s eyes narrow. “If this sentence starts with you needing your own dog…”

“Emotional support animal,” Stiles replies with emphasis.

Noah pinches the bridge of his nose. “My office, and we can discuss this.”

There are snickers from the rest of the pack as Stiles follows Noah to his office, but then there’s immediate cooing from Erica over the dogs, who don’t seem to mind being around a pack of werewolves.

“Sit, and tell me how it went,” Noah says, pointing to the chair in front of his desk. “And before you repeat yourself, I am maybe willing to consider it. Maybe. If Jack says it would be helpful, and it’s not just a passing fancy.”

Stiles slumps in his chair. “I just think the panic attacks would be easier to handle if there was a dog to hug.”

“I thought the panic attacks were getting better,” Noah objects.

“Jack’s breathing techniques have been helpful, and I can mostly wake myself up from nightmares before I start screaming,” Stiles mutters. “But I already emailed him for another session this week over video.”

Noah sighs. “You could have told me.”

“My actual therapist is getting paid to deal with my shit,” Stiles points out.

“I’m your actual father, which means I’d like to know about your shit, Stiles,” Noah says. “Next in-person session, I’m taking the first fifteen minutes to talk to him about this.”

Stiles nods. “Yeah, okay, I get it.”

“Now, the deposition,” Noah prompts.

His kid sighs and rubs his eyes. “Short story, we had a meeting with the Argents prior to the deposition. Victoria Argent tried to force Allison to lie and say that she or Kate—probably Kate—had a change of heart and freed me, rather than me getting loose. Good thing you sent Dave with me. I could display my handcuff picking skills to everyone.”

Noah raises his eyebrows. “What did you use to pick the locks?”

With a completely straight face, Stiles says, “Magic.”

Noah glares at him. “Stiles.”

Stiles pulls a piece of wire out of his pocket with a smirk. “I used this.”

It looks like something that could come off a bed frame, which makes it absolutely perfect for demonstration purposes. “I should have known. Okay, good job. What did Allison do?”

“She told her mom that she wasn’t going to lie for her, and then basically told her dad and everyone present that she was divorcing her mom,” Stiles admits. “If we can drop the restraining order against just her at the beginning of the next school year, I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”

Noah frowns. “Why?”

“She backed me up, and her mom is a hell beast,” Stiles says.

Noah grimaces. He can’t imagine trying to get Stiles, or anyone, to lie on the record. Granted, they’re not being terribly forthcoming about what he’d used to pick the locks, but they’re not lying about him getting himself out of them.

“All right,” Noah says slowly. “Tell you what, I’ll think about it. If her mom—and the rest of the Argents—are willing to try and force her to lie, and they’re willing to shoot up a sheriff’s station in broad daylight… Maybe the protection order is just a piece of paper, but it’s also an enforcement mechanism.”

Stiles nods. “Yeah, I get it. And I don’t want Chris Argent to get the idea that he can start harassing us either. I just thought—you know. She did me a solid today.”

“No, she did the bare minimum required of her,” Noah replies. “I won’t dispute that she’s under a tremendous amount of strain, but she has an obligation to tell the truth.”

Stiles just shakes his head. “I know that, Dad, but that doesn’t mean it’s always easy to do.”

“Do you think Allison would want to come back to school here?” Noah asks. “I wouldn’t ever tell anyone in the pack who they could or couldn’t date, but I’m going to disapprove of Scott taking back up with her pretty heavily.”

Stiles nods. “It’s too big of a risk.”

“Yes, exactly,” Noah replies. “So, as I said, I’ll think about it, but I’m not sure it’s a good idea, and that’s not about punishing Allison.”

“No, I get that,” Stiles replies, “so thanks for thinking about it.”

“How did the actual deposition go?” Noah is almost afraid to ask.

Stiles shrugs. “They questioned me pretty hard about how I got out, and I had to demonstrate my prowess again. Both of the attorneys seemed pissed off that Allison wouldn’t agree to lie for her aunt, but I think it went fine overall.”

“Good,” Noah replies. “I’m glad you got through it. I think Scott has your homework assignments.”

“Thanks, Pops,” Stiles says.

“Put your pants in the hamper in my room, and I’ll take them to the dry cleaner with my uniforms!” Noah calls as Stiles leaves his office.

Stiles waves. “Will do!”

Noah sighs. He’s growing a little more worried by the day, between the bodies dropping, some concern as to what the Argents might try to do now that their plan to have Allison lie hasn’t worked for them, and the rest.

Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea for Stiles to get a dog, preferably a large one that could double as physical security. Noah could get behind that.

~~~~~

Stiles’ next therapy appointment, as it so happens, is the following week, and Noah drives him to Jack’s office. He’s only been there a few times, since Stiles and Jack meet in person once a month, but over the phone every other week, and more often when necessary.

Noah follows Stiles inside, and Jack greets them in the foyer. “I got your message, Stiles. Good to see you again, Noah. Come on back.”

It’s raining, and the big windows are streaked with water, the drenched garden and overcast skies just beyond.

Stiles takes a seat and rests his forearms on his thighs, but doesn’t break the silence. Jack clears his throat and says, “Why don’t I start? What’s worrying you this week, Stiles? You’re past the deposition.”

“Well, there’s the alpha pack,” Stiles admits. “And the Nemeton is resisting our probes, so we don’t know what kind of threat is inside.”

“But that wasn’t the focus of your message,” Jack presses. “You said your dad wanted to talk to me.”

Stiles takes a deep breath. “I’m trying to talk him into an emotional support dog. He said he’d have to talk to you first.”

Jack nods slowly. “All right. How long has it been since you had a panic attack?”

Stiles winces. “The breathing techniques have been really helpful.”

Noah knows a deflection when he hears one, and Jack clearly does, too. “Then tell me this, and be honest, Stiles: on an average day, at any given point in time, how bad is your anxiety on a scale from one to ten?”

Stiles opens his mouth, then stops, looking down at the floor. Noah can see Stiles wrestling with whether or not to be completely honest. “Maybe a six.”

He’s downplaying it, but Noah keeps his mouth shut.

Jack nods. “And on a bad day?”

“About a nine,” Stiles admits.

Jack’s frown is mild, but still there. “You haven’t said anything about that, Stiles. You said you were doing better.”

“Before I started seeing you, I would have said a nine and a twelve, respectively,” Stiles says. “Like I said, the breathing exercises have helped, and I don’t want to take medication.”

“As it happens, I agree with you,” Jack replies mildly. “A benzodiazepine would be most helpful, but can be habit-forming. I don’t have any serious concerns about that, but you’re a little young to be starting on medications unless there are no other options.”

Stiles nods his head but doesn’t respond verbally.

“I’ll ask you again: what is causing you the most anxiety, Stiles?” Jack asks gently.

Stiles takes a deep breath. “The alpha pack. The Argents, too, but less so.”

Jack leans forward. “You do realize that nothing the alpha pack does is your fault, don’t you?”

“I didn’t create them, I didn’t weaponize them, and I didn’t invite them to the party,” Stiles agrees. “But I can’t quite shake the feeling that they wouldn’t be targeting my dad if I hadn’t dragged Scott out to see Derek’s dead sister’s body.”

“We’ve talked about that, too,” Jack says in that same gentle tone.

“Childish curiosity should not be punished with death and mayhem, but sometimes is,” Stiles mutters. “Yeah, I remember.”

“Would a dog make you feel more secure?” Jack asks.

Stiles shrugs. “I just know how I felt around Dave’s dogs.”

“How did you feel?” Jack queries.

“They were looking at me like—I don’t know,” Stiles admits.

“Like he hung the moon,” Noah supplies. “Moira says it’s because of Stiles’ profound connection with the earth, or something like that.”

Stiles frowns. “I didn’t think you were listening.”

“I was worried you were going to steal my deputy’s dogs from right under his nose,” Noah replies dryly. “So, yes, I was paying very close attention.”

Jack chuckles. “Well, Stiles, I’m willing to recommend you to someone I know who trains support animals, specifically for those living or working in a supernatural context. They won’t react poorly to magic or werewolves.”

Stiles’ head comes up. “I thought you’d tell me to suck it up, or that I wasn’t doing the breathing exercises right.”

“When have I ever suggested such a thing?” Jack asks, still amused.

Stiles shrugs uncomfortably. “First time for everything.”

“I have heard of the alpha pack,” Jack admits. “Second- and third-hand, anyway, so I can’t make any promises as to the veracity of my information, but you know that most animals kill quickly and cleanly.”

Stiles nods. “Yeah. They don’t play with their food. Except maybe cats.”

Jack smiles briefly. “Not even most cats, not if they’re hungry. But some animals, they do like to play with their food.”

“The alpha pack likes to do that,” Noah says flatly. “You’re saying they’re not going to tip their hands too soon. They’re going to keep messing with us.”

Jack shrugs eloquently. “I can only tell you what I’ve heard, and based on that, it’s not going to be an easy or a quick resolution, which means that your anxiety is not going to subside any time soon, Stiles.”

“A service dog is going to last a lot longer than the alpha pack,” Noah points out.

Jack raises his eyebrows. “And you think this is going to be the last stressor that Stiles faces? Ideally, in a few years, he won’t need a service dog. But life is rarely ideal.”

“Granted,” Noah says. “All right, Stiles, if Jack can hook you up with someone who can provide you with a dog, I’ll pay for it.”

He pauses. “And son, I’m going to need you to be a little more forthcoming with Jack. I know you’re trying to keep a lid on things, but you won’t get better if you’re not honest.”

Stiles ducks his head. “Yeah, I get it, Dad. Promise.”

“We’ll discuss this at length, Noah,” Jack says. “We’ll be fine.”

Jack isn’t going to press in front of Noah, and that makes sense. Noah just nods. “I’ll be at the coffee shop. Let me know when you’re ready, Stiles.”

Noah spends almost 90 minutes at the coffee shop before he gets a text from Stiles, indicating that he’s done. That means it had been an extra long session, and that Jack had made time for it.

Noah pulls up in front of the old Victorian, and Stiles climbs into the passenger seat, looking completely wrung out. “Do you want to talk about it?” Noah asks. He’s been trying to be more present for Stiles.

“Jack says the breathing exercises might have been helping, but they’ve also allowed me to sublimate my anxiety rather than dealing with it,” Stiles mutters.

Noah reaches over and grips the back of Stiles’ neck. “You do realize that it’s okay that you’re not okay, right?”

“That’s what Jack said.” Stiles leans his forehead against the glass. “Sorry, Dad.”

“Don’t apologize,” Noah orders. “But besides a dog—which will take time—and medication—which is out for the moment—is there anything that would help you manage it, Stiles?”

Stiles takes a deep breath. “Jack asked me the same thing, and there are really only two things that help: information, which we don’t have, and being prepared.”

Noah knows that about his son. “And what would help you feel prepared?”

“Self defense lessons?” Stiles suggests. “And maybe a few more trips to the range?”

“I’m not going to get you a gun,” Noah warns. “Not until you’re at least 18. But self defense classes and additional trips to the range are within the realm of possibility. I’ve been meaning to do that anyway, and bring Derek along to give him the practice.”

Stiles relaxes. “Yeah, that would be good.”

Noah is glad that Stiles has at least given him some suggestions that are doable, and even helpful. He wants Stiles to be able to pick up a gun and defend himself if necessary, or to pick up a lacrosse stick and do the same. “Then we’ll work on it together.”

Stiles nods, then gives Noah a pleading look. “Can I get some curly fries?”

“How about we wait until we hit Beacon Hills, and we see who else wants to join us?” Noah suggests.

Stiles shakes his head. “No offense, Dad, but I’m feeling a little raw right now.”

“All right,” Noah says soothingly. “Then we’ll go to that diner we went to last time, even if the curly fries are subpar.”

Stiles snorts. “Curly fries are curly fries.”

“Now that we can agree on.”

Chapter 6

Derek is tired when he gets home from class, and it’s late. The physical aspects of training aren’t difficult, except from the standpoint that he always has to be on his guard. Derek has to be strong and fast in order to do well—but not too strong, or too fast. It’s a delicate balance, but worth it. Derek needs to do well; he wants to justify Noah’s faith in him.

There’s a light burning in Stiles’ window, and Derek raps on the door jamb as he passes.

“Hey,” Stiles says, glancing up from his chemistry textbook. “How did things go today?”

“I had to hold back, but I think I did well,” Derek replies. “How is studying going?”

Stiles shrugs. “I’m planning on acing my chemistry final to really stick it to Harris.”

“He let up on you?” Derek asks.

Stiles nods. “Dad had a word with him at the last parent-teacher conference, and said he’d be filing a formal complaint with the school district, considering my delicate nature and victim status, and Harris’ role in putting me in the crosshairs. Now, he mostly ignores me.”

“That sounds like an improvement,” Derek comments.

Stiles snorts. “Yeah, well. It could be said. You going to be around tomorrow?”

“I am,” Derek confirms. “Dave still wants to go through with it?”

“He’s pretty excited,” Stiles says. “I think he’s going to make a good wolf.”

“Tara certainly has,” Derek confirms.

Stiles stretches, and Derek can hear the crack of his spine and see a thin strip of skin between his jeans and his t-shirt. He quickly looks away, knowing better.

“How is Parrish doing?” Stiles asks. “That’s your friend, right?”

Derek is pleased that Stiles remembered. “Yeah, and he’s keeping up to me, so he’s doing well. How are things going with Danny?”

“Magic is on hold for now until we get through finals,” Stiles admits. “Moira said to focus on that, and then we research the Nemeton in more depth over the summer.”

“And you and Scott?” Derek asks.

Stiles shrugs. “I don’t know. I think we’re back on an even keel, but we both have a lot going on, and there are things we just can’t talk about. It makes it difficult at times. Plus…” He trails off.

“You both have the pack,” Derek supplies. “It’s not just the two of you anymore.”

Stiles nods his head. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“I can’t say what would have happened if Laura had tried to form a pack,” Derek admits. “We were close because we didn’t have anyone but each other. I don’t know that we would have continued to be as close with the addition of more people.”

Stiles blows out a breath. “Yeah, I get that. Thanks.”

Derek reaches out to squeeze Stiles’ shoulder. “It’ll get easier. You’ll either get past it, or you’ll find a new normal.”

Stiles smiles and says, “Go to bed, dude. You look like you’re about ready to pass out.”

Privately, Derek thinks that it’s probably good for everyone that the pack has become as diverse as it has. It’s big enough to give balance; small enough for everyone to still know each other well, although some better than others.

While there’s still the threat of the alpha pack, they’re no longer hunkered down as if at war. It might be the calm before the storm, but at least there is calm.

Derek takes the time to shower before he falls into bed, sprawling under the covers. He can’t hear the sheriff’s heartbeat, which means he still must be at the station, and when he hears the tell-tale sounds of Stiles getting ready for bed, Derek realizes that Stiles had waited up for him.

Derek smiles and drops off into sleep.

The next day, Derek wakes up late, well after the time Stiles leaves for school, and the sheriff would normally leave for the station. Today, though, Noah is in the kitchen, drinking coffee, and apparently waiting for him.

“You up for a little bit of range time this coming weekend?” Noah asks. “Stiles wants to go.”

Derek nods. “Yeah, that would be good. I could use the practice. I still feel like I’m struggling not to flinch when I squeeze the trigger.”

“That can happen even if you’re not a werewolf,” Noah says, sounding slightly amused. “But thanks. Stiles hasn’t been managing his anxiety quite as well as he claimed.”

Derek winces. “I could have told you that.”

“Yeah, but Stiles is allowed his privacy, and he also needs to be honest with his doctor to better manage things,” Noah replies. “I don’t need you to spy on my kid for me, Derek. I wouldn’t put you in that position unless I had no other choice.”

Derek nods and pulls a bottle of water out of the fridge. “Anything I can do?”

Noah shakes his head. “But I would like you here this evening, and I’d appreciate it if you kept an eye on Dave afterward.”

Derek agrees readily, because it’s no hardship, and it’s part of his role as right hand. “Of course.”

Noah nods. “I hate not being here myself, but I need to be at the station. You can call if anything happens.”

“I think we’ll be fine,” Derek assures him. “Are you worried about the alpha pack?”

Noah shakes his head. “Am I worried about the threat they present to us? Not really. I have the entire station on my side, and a strong pack. They won’t find an easy target. I am worried about the amount of damage they’ll do along the way.”

And that just goes to show what kind of Alpha Noah is. It’s not just his own pack members he cares about, but the territory as a whole.

“Peter had a few contacts with other packs,” Derek says slowly. “We could try reaching out to them.”

Noah grimaces. “Maybe. Let me give it some thought. I don’t know them, so I’m not sure I can trust them.”

Derek snorts. “You know that’s why there isn’t a strong network. We don’t trust each other.”

Noah shrugs. “Hopefully, we’ll have time to fix that.” He pauses. “How’s that kid looking? Parrish, right?”

“Keeping up with me,” Derek replies. “I have a good feeling about him.”

Noah nods. “When you’re done with the module, we’ll celebrate, and you can invite him for a cookout. I have room in the budget for two—or I will when you two are done with the second module as reserve officers. If you have a good feeling, I’d like to meet him.”

Derek feels a warm glow. Parrish is the first person he’s had an inclination to invite into the pack, and it feels good to have Noah accept his recommendation so easily.

“And if you meet anyone else you might want to invite over for a meet and greet, I’d be open to that, too,” Noah says. “I trust you, Derek.”

Derek looks away, unable to meet his eyes. “Even after—“

“When we make a mistake, we hopefully learn from that mistake,” Noah says gently. “And I think you probably have a good sense for untrustworthy people at this point.”

Derek takes a deep breath. “Thanks.”

“You sticking around here today?” Noah asks.

“I’m going to make a grocery store run,” Derek replies. “I’ll make dinner for the pack tonight, something that’s easy to reheat if you, Tara, and Paul can get away.”

Noah nods, and then he reaches out and clasps Derek’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you, Derek. You’re doing really well.”

Derek feels his face heat. “Thank you, Noah.”

Noah pulls him into a quick, rough hug. “I’ll see you later today.”

Derek takes a deep breath, and he can smell pack—the house is saturated with the scents of Stiles and Noah, but the other members are there as a counterpoint. Derek can’t imagine living anywhere other than with his pack at this point.

He does go to the grocery store and buys enough supplies to feed everyone for a few days, since he has some time until his next class. At the last minute, Derek decides to go for a couple of pans of lasagna instead, because inducting a new member into the pack seems to call for something a little fancier. He thinks Moira would agree, and he and Stiles have both been taking lessons.

The pans are about ready to go into the oven when the kids come home, and it’s everyone—Boyd with his arm slung over Erica’s shoulders, Scott and Isaac jostling each other, Stiles bringing up the rear, smelling wistful.

“Oh, hey, is that lasagna?” Stiles asks when he catches sight of what Derek is doing.

“I figured a celebration was merited,” Derek replies. “Since I believe it will go well.”

Stiles nods. “Oh, yeah. Dave already feels like pack, so this is just making it official.”

Derek has no doubt that Stiles will make sure of it. “Where’s Moira?”

“She had a stitch and bitch session at the coffee shop,” Stiles says. “She should be here soon.”

The front door opens, and Moira calls out, “Now, who has been taking cooking lessons, because that smells delicious!”

Derek will never admit that he watches the Food Network to relax. “That would be me.”

“Ah, here are my kiddos,” Moira says. She hugs Erica, touches Boyd’s cheek, gives Isaac a long hug with a kiss on the forehead, and finally gives Scott a long look. “How are you, boyo?”

Scott shrugs. “I’m okay.”

“Okay isn’t great, but we’ll work on it.” Moira pats him on the shoulder. “I hear we’re receiving a new pack member tonight, and Derek, it seems you’ve prepared better than I could have.”

Derek shrugs. “We’ll see how it tastes.”

Moira smiles. “I have a tremendous amount of faith.” She winks, probably because she knows that he watches Food Network.

She knows everything, it sometimes seems.

Derek shoves the pans of lasagna into the oven as the kids start studying, and Moira pulls Stiles aside, saying, “You have a lesson. You’re ready for your final tomorrow.”

“But I could help the others!” Stiles protests.

“You can help them after,” Moira says implacably. “And Derek has dinner well under control.”

Derek appreciates her faith, and he soon hears the sounds of furniture being moved.

“You can help with algebra, right?” Erica asks. “I really don’t want to do summer school, but I missed so much time…”

She trails off, batting her eyelashes at him.

“First of all, that won’t work,” Derek says. “Second of all, I’m happy to help, just ask.”

Derek remembers Laura doing this with the younger pack members, and some of the other adults, too. Everyone had a role, and Derek is starting to realize just how restrictive his had been. He’d been relegated to the fuck-up, little brother role after Paige, and no one had ever suggested that he could be more, not even Laura, not even after they’d left.

“Hey, earth to Derek,” Isaac says, but his tone is gently teasing. “You okay, man?”

“Just thinking,” Derek admits. “What’s the plan for the summer?”

“I’m going to get a job!” Erica says, dancing in her seat. “I’m going to do the normal girl thing and get a normal job, and I’m going to learn how to drive.”

“Agreed,” Derek says. “We’ll start the weekend after school is out.”

“I picked up a second job,” Boyd admits.

“Same,” Isaac agrees.

Derek clears his throat. “Why don’t you two take my apartment? We can put some bunkbeds in, although it’s not much. I’ll continue paying the rent until you guys can cover it, or through high school.”

Isaac and Boyd look at each other, and Derek figures they’re doing the mental math as to how often Boyd will stick a sock on the door, and how often Isaac can intrude on the hospitality of others.

“Two days per week,” Boyd says.

Isaac nods. “Yeah, that works. I know I can always crash with the sheriff.”

There’s a proprietary sense to his tone, as though he knows that Noah will always offer him a safe place to land.

“Good, Stiles, good,” Moira says, and it catches his attention for some reason. “What do you see?”

“Fireflies,” Stiles replies, sounding almost drugged, and then he lets out a sound that Derek can’t adequately define. It’s an inhuman noise, and he bolts for the living room.

“Sit behind him, and wrap your legs around him, Derek,” Moira orders. “Never mind appearances. If it’s not his dad, it has to be you.”

Derek knows better than to argue with Moira when she uses that tone of voice, and he sits behind Stiles and pulls his stiff, trembling body close. “What happened?”

“He got a little too close to whatever is in the Nemeton,” Moira admits grimly. “We still don’t have a good idea as to what’s corrupting it, but Stiles has a stronger connection based on his affinity for the earth, and his connection to the pack.”

Stiles’ breathing is beginning to slow, the shudders subsiding. “I’m okay,” he says. “I’m okay.”

Scott kneels down next to them and shoots Moira an accusing look. “You had to do that?”

“We must determine what’s corrupting the node,” Moira replies fiercely. “This is as close as we’ve come to date. Stiles, do you think you could follow it again with Alana and Noelani?”

Stiles nods, pulling away from Derek. “Yeah, I think so. I think it was trying to get into my head, and it wasn’t being polite about it.”

Moira grimaces. “Well, between fireflies and possession, that does narrow our options.”

“What will having Danny’s mom there do?” Scott asks, still sounding suspicious.

Moira glances at him. “Their presence will provide more protection. And Stiles, you’re inside a salt line, so you wouldn’t be possessed—but that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t try.”

Stiles scrubs his hands over his face. “Okay, well, I guess we’ll try again. Can’t wait, so fun.”

“Are you okay, dude?” Scott asks urgently.

Stiles shrugs. “Yeah, I’m fine. It was just a bad moment, that’s all.”

Scott stares at him. “You didn’t hear yourself, Stiles. It sounded like you were being murdered.”

“I’m pretty sure it was trying to eat my soul,” Stiles mutters. “So, yeah, kinda.”

Derek senses that he’s no longer needed, and heads back to the kitchen. The rest of the pack stayed at the table, and they all look at Derek. He gives a quick shake of his head, and everyone settles without argument.

Stiles and Scott join the rest of the kids at the dining table and get to studying. The rest of the evening passes without incident, at least. They clear off the table for dinner, and Derek’s lasagna gets rave reviews.

Derek is glad that he made two pans, because they get through one easily and make inroads into the second, although Derek makes sure that there’s enough left over for Noah and his deputies.

Noah comes in with Tara and Dave in tow, and he says, “Smells good, Derek. Thanks.”

The kids move to the living room while Noah, Tara, and Dave eat, but Derek stays put, and so does Moira.

“Everything okay?” Noah asks between bites.

“You’ll probably hear about it,” Moira says ruefully. “We attempted to get closer to the corruption in the Nemeton, and Stiles made contact. No harm done, but he got a bit of a scare.”

Noah winces. “Well, that’s not great, but I understand that the investigation needs to be done.”

Moira nods. “Thank you for understanding.”

“My kid is magic,” Noah says with resignation. “I’ve come to accept that comes with sacrifices.”

“Unfortunately,” Moira replies with an apologetic smile.

Once Noah and the two deputies finish eating, they go out to the living room, and Noah asks, “Where is everyone staying tonight?”

Erica grimaces. “Mom and Dad said they want me home.”

Boyd says, “I should get home, too. My grandma asked me to do some laundry tonight.”

“I need to do laundry, too,” Scott admits. “I promised Mom I’d help out a little more.”

“I’ll go with you,” Isaac says. “I don’t mind helping.”

Noah nods. “All right. I’ll have my cell phone on me if anyone needs anything. I’m not expecting any trouble, but keep an eye out.”

They all agree and troop out, apparently not caring to stick around to see Noah bite Dave. Then again, they’d all been through it before, and as long as there’s no bite rejection, it’s about as exciting as watching paint dry.

Noah’s eyes turn red, and his mouth fills with teeth, and he bites Dave on the wrist. Moira bandages him up, and Dave mutters, “I don’t think I’m going to get used to that.”

“You’d be surprised,” Noah replies.

Tara pats him on the shoulder. “We’ll stop by and check on the dogs on our way back to the station.”

“Thanks,” Dave replies, frowning at the bandage. “It didn’t hurt as bad as I thought it would.”

Moira smiles. “If that changes, just tell Derek. He can pull your pain. I need to go check on something, but I’m available if you need me, too.”

Stiles seems a little subdued as everyone leaves, and then he says, “I have my chem final tomorrow, so I’m going to study in my room. Welcome to the pack, Dave.”

“Thanks, Stiles,” Dave replies.

He looks a little uncomfortable, and Derek says, “Do you want to watch something?”

“Yeah, let’s see if there’s a game on,” Dave replies.

Derek isn’t going to leave Dave alone, and the evening wears on as they watch a baseball game. Eventually, Dave changes out of his uniform into sweats and a t-shirt, and Derek does the same.

Occasionally, they’ll hear a sound from upstairs as Stiles moves around, but he doesn’t seem inclined to join them. “Can I ask you something?” Dave asks.

Derek gives him a look. “Sure. I can’t promise to answer it, though.”

“Do you live here?”

“I have my own apartment,” Derek replies defensively.

“That doesn’t actually answer my question,” Dave points out.

Derek blows out a breath. “Yeah, well, I like being around pack. You’ll—“ he stops.

“I’ll understand once the bite takes hold?” Dave asks.

Derek winces. “I wasn’t going to say it.”

Dave shrugs. “I know what it’s like to be a part of a big family, and then to lose it. Not to death, but you’d never know given how little contact I have with them.”

“I’m sorry,” Derek says.

“I won’t say it’s okay, but I will say that I don’t blame you for wanting to stick close,” Dave replies.

Dave’s easy acceptance relaxes Derek, and not long after, he’s ready for bed, and he grabs the bedding for the couch. Derek is deeply asleep when something disturbs him. It takes a few seconds for him to realize that he’s hearing faint whimpers from Stiles’ room.

He rolls out of bed, and he’s just reached the door when he hears Dave’s quiet, “Hey, Stiles, hey. You’re safe, you’re okay.”

Derek pauses by Stiles’ bedroom door, just out of sight, waiting to see if he needs to step in and offer his own comfort.

“Dave?” Stiles asks. “Are you okay?”

“I should probably be asking you that, bud,” Dave says easily. “It sounded like you were having a doozy of a nightmare.”

There’s a pause. “I don’t know why,” Stiles mutters.

“Mind if I sit?” Dave asks.

There’s another pause. “No, I guess not.”

Derek hears the creak of the rolling chair Stiles has in his bedroom, and he sits in the hallway.

“When I was in Afghanistan, the second time, I was in a convoy,” Dave says conversationally. “We were in the Humvee behind the lead vehicle when it ran over an IED and exploded. Our driver was on top of his shit and pulled to a stop, but the vehicle behind us wasn’t able to, and we got rear ended.”

Derek wonders where this story is going, and he imagines that Stiles is probably wondering the same thing, although he doesn’t say anything.

“Anyway, things are chaotic, as they usually are in the middle of a firefight—bullets flying, ordinance exploding—and I forgot all about being rear ended,” Dave continues. “It was just part of it. That was my last deployment, and I chose not to re-up. I didn’t think I’d get that lucky again.”

“What happened?” Stiles asks, sounding a little sleepy now.

“I thought I was holding it together,” Dave admits. “I started at the police academy, and everything was fine. Until a lady rear ended me in a parking lot. There wasn’t a lot of damage—some paint transfer, and I needed a new bumper—but it took everything I had not to have a complete breakdown as we were exchanging information. Anybody else would have just contacted the insurance company and gone about their day. I went home and sat in a dark room and called in sick.”

“Getting rear ended was a trigger,” Stiles says slowly.

“One I didn’t even know I had,” Dave confirms. “These things can sneak up on you, Stiles, and there’s no shame in it.”

Stiles takes a deep, audible breath. “What did you do?”

“Well, I had a buddy at the academy who was also a veteran and got suspicious when I called in sick,” Dave replies. “He hauled me to a support group at the VA, and then shoved a couple of puppies at me once we graduated. On a good day, I take the dogs for a run and I don’t even think about Afghanistan. On a bad day, I hug the dogs and take them for a run, and use those breathing techniques that I’m sure your psychiatrist taught you.”

Stiles’ breath hitches. “Those can help.”

“I’ve found them useful,” Dave says.

“Can I ask a stupid question?” Stiles asks.

Dave is clearly amused as he responds, “If the question comes from you, I doubt it’s a stupid one.”

“What was your job in the Army?” Stiles asks, his voice fading slightly.

“I was a sniper,” Dave replies. “Didn’t think I’d ever need those skills in a place like Beacon Hills.”

“Could come in handy, though,” Stiles murmurs, and Derek can hear when his breathing evens out in sleep.

Dave comes out of Stiles’ room and sits down on the floor next to Derek.

“How’s the bite?” Derek asks.

Dave peels the gauze away to reveal a faint bruise. “I’m assuming that’s normal.”

“Yeah, if it takes,” Derek replies. “Thanks for that. We can reassure him, but…”

“I’m just glad I could help,” Dave says.

Derek takes a deep breath. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“There’s a reason I like working the night shift,” Dave admits.

Derek realizes that Dave is probably going to be the left hand of the pack. “Welcome to the madhouse,” Derek offers.

Dave just chuckles. “Nah, this isn’t all that crazy.”

~~~~~

Stiles really doesn’t want to do this, but he knows there isn’t a choice. They have to figure out what’s corrupting the Nemeton, and Stiles’ connection to the earth, both through his magic and through the pack, makes him uniquely qualified to delve deeper.

Moira pulls up in front of Danny’s house and pulls into the driveway. “We don’t have to do this, Stiles. I know I’ve been pushing you, but we can move more slowly.”

Stiles shakes his head. “No, I have to do this. We have to figure it out, right?”

“Derek said you had a nightmare,” Moira comments.

“I have nightmares a lot,” Stiles admits. “I’ve just gotten better at hiding them.”

Moira sighs. “Oh, Stiles.”

“I’m sorry!” Stiles bursts out. “I know it’s stupid, but I thought if I could just force myself to get through it, it would go away.”

“You should know better than that,” Moira scolds. “I told you that emotional upheaval would affect your magic.”

Stiles shakes his head. “I just wanted to help the pack.”

“You are, and you will,” Moira promises. “Even if we don’t come up with answers today, or for a while, we will figure it out, okay? But if you need to pull the plug, I need to know that you’ll do that.”

Stiles nods. “I promise.”

“Okay, then we’ll move forward,” Moira says. “We’re going to be in the clearing for the full moon tonight, so we’re not going to push too hard.”

It’s not just Dave’s first full moon, but also the night that Paul and Moira have agreed to help facilitate the full transformation for all of the pack members, including Dave.

Stiles wonders if anyone will be successful, and what the reaction will be if someone doesn’t get it.

“Don’t worry so much,” Moira murmurs as she presses the doorbell. “It will be fine.”

Stiles just shrugs.

Danny opens the door and smiles at Stiles. “Hey, man. Ready to get witchy?”

Stiles laughs and accepts the hand Danny offers. They’ve done this a few times now, and Stiles finds that he appreciates Danny’s company as another person who has an understanding of magic. “Yeah, sure. I nearly had it the other night, but got freaked out.”

“Anything that can corrupt a Nemeton is something to be scared of, young spark,” Moira says. “At least you have the sense to be scared, whereas some would just rush in.”

“Well said,” Noelani says, coming to greet Moira with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “I have us set up in the backyard. I thought it might be more conducive for Stiles’ gifts.”

Moira nods. “I concur. Stiles, you’ll be anchoring the circle today, Danny across from you to provide balance, and Noelani and I across from each other. Alana will be outside the circle, monitoring.”

Stiles gulps, but Moira has been preparing him to anchor a circle. “Got it.”

“You’ll be fine,” Danny says encouragingly.

That’s typical Danny, but Stiles appreciates the support. “Thanks.”

They step into the backyard, and Alana is waiting for them with the space prepared. Stiles can feel the salt line as they step across it, and the protections are definitely strong.

“Hello, Stiles.” Alana wraps an arm around his shoulders, her warm smile a mirror to Danny’s. “How are you?”

“A little nervous,” he admits.

She gives him an extra squeeze. “You’re going to be just fine, I promise, and I’ll be watching your back.”

“Is that normal in a coven?” Stiles asks.

“For something like this, yes,” Alana replies. “What we’re dealing with is old and nasty. If we were a larger group, perhaps not, but that would depend on the threat.”

Stiles nods, and then takes his place at the northern point of the compass. Danny takes the south, Moira the west, and Noelani the east. Stiles thinks it’s an interesting choice to have Danny take the south, since fire doesn’t really seem to be in his makeup.

As though reading his mind, Danny smirks, and all the candles light at once. “Fire is easy.”

“Expectations rearranged,” Stiles admits.

Alana chuckles. “Fires can be banked and smolder, Stiles, then flare up into a conflagration.”

Stiles inclines his head. “Makes sense.”

The candles burn strongly and steadily, and Stiles takes a deep breath. “Okay, I think I’m ready.”

“Don’t think,” Moira orders. “Feel it in your bones, Stiles. You are ready. We’re here.”

Stiles nods, closes his eyes, and sinks himself into the earth, the way he’d done when he’d first sensed the corruption in the Nemeton. Danny, at the southern point, is a strong, masculine presence. He can feel the fire, deeply banked and steady.

He’s used to Moira’s energy, and Noelani has a lightness about her. In their company, with Alana providing support, Stiles feels comfortable sinking more of himself into the earth.

Stiles sees fireflies again, and then he feels the sucking darkness. He’s not really sure how to describe it, but it feels like a void, one that wants to consume everything it can.

“Who are you?” Stiles murmurs.

The voice that replies feels like it’s coming from inside Stiles, maybe inside his very soul. “I’m you.”

Stiles feels the flare of fire, and he hears the rush of water and air. “No, you aren’t.” It’s easier to feel the separation with the others around him, and he feels the whisper of strength from Alana. “But you want to be. What are you?”

“I am the Void,” and then Stiles feels the fireflies swirl around him.

Again, there’s fire, air, and water, and Stiles presses a little harder as the fireflies are swept away. This time, Stiles gets close enough to see a figure wrapped in bandages, almost like a mummy, but Stiles senses that there isn’t much behind them.

Noelani hisses, “Nogitsune.”

Stiles loses the connection at that point, and he blinks his eyes open. “What? What is that?”

“It’s a wild fox spirit,” Noelani replies. “And it is known for troubling humans. This one is—different than ones I’ve seen in the past. I don’t know what that means, but it does suggest that it’s going to be difficult to root out.”

Stiles sits down on the ground hard, exhaustion hitting him. “It wants me.”

“It does,” Moira agrees. “And I’m glad you recognize that. I was wrong to push you to confront it without additional support, Stiles. I’m sorry.”

Stiles shakes his head. “You didn’t know, and we needed to find out. Now, at least we have an idea of what it is, even if we don’t know how to get rid of it.”

Alana kneels next to him and hands him a glass. “Drink up. This is an electrolyte beverage of my own creation.”

Stiles thinks it tastes delicious—a little sweet, a little salty, and tasting a bit of lemon. “This is great.”

Alana hands the others their own glasses, and they all sit in pensive silence. Stiles isn’t as shaken by this encounter as he was the last, largely because he had felt the support of Noelani and Danny, with Alana standing guard. He trusts Moira to have his back, but he’s beginning to understand why magic users enjoy working in groups.

“Is this like a coven?” Stiles asks suddenly.

Moira snorts. “It’s not ‘like’ a coven, Stiles. It is a coven.”

“Even though Danny and I are here?” Stiles asks.

Danny just shakes her head. “Most practitioners, male or female, are fine with the generic term of witch. Although there are different categories of magic users, and some people get hung up on that.”

“Particularly druids,” Noelani mutters. “But then I’ve met maybe one druid I could trust in the course of my life.”

Stiles frowns. “I thought druids would be good.”

“Druids tend to have inscrutable motives, and they tend to work alone,” Moira says, somewhat more diplomatically. “Other magic users find them frustrating as a result.”

“And when they go bad, they tend to go very bad indeed,” Alana adds. “I wouldn’t say that druids can’t ever be trusted, but never assume they’re telling you the whole truth.”

Stiles finds that pretty telling, and they wrap up once they finish their drinks. “I would advise that you take a nap,” Moira says as she drives them back to the house.

Stiles nods and yawns. “Yeah, I agree. That seems smart.”

He doesn’t even bother undressing or getting under the covers. Stiles just collapses on top of his bed and falls into a deep sleep. When he wakes a couple of hours later, he finds Scott sitting next to his bed. “Hey,” he says sleepily. “What are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you, too,” Scott replies, although he has a smile on his face.

Stiles yawns and sits up slowly. “Watching me sleep is kind of a creeper move.”

“It was Derek for the first hour, but then Moira wanted him to go with her on a grocery run,” Scott says. “And Moira said she was worried about you having nightmares.”

“No nightmares,” Stiles replies, stretching. “But thanks for looking out.”

Scott shrugs. “My mom said I should thank you.”

“For what?”

“I finished with a B average,” Scott says. “And I was on track to have to go to summer school.”

Stiles is uncomfortable with the idea. “Scotty, no. I might have helped keep you on track, but you did the work.”

“She wasn’t wrong, though,” Scott says. “I haven’t been a very good friend to you.”

Stiles takes a deep breath, and he isn’t sure how to respond. “You lost your first serious girlfriend, who turned out to come from a family of psychopaths. You’re not just my friend; you’re my brother.”

“And I should have chosen you right off the bat,” Scott says sincerely. “I should never have asked you to forgive her, or forgiven her myself.”

Stiles feels something in his chest loosen. “Yeah, well, I almost kind of do forgive her, and I know you’re in love with her.”

“I was,” Scott says with emphasis. “Maybe a part of me will always wish things could have worked out, but it’s not gonna happen, Stiles.”

Stiles is relieved to hear it. “That’s good, because even if Allison has had a true change of heart, I think her parents—especially her mom—would still probably try to kill you.”

Scott snorts. “Yeah, well. True.”

“Look, I gotta take a shower and get cleaned up,” Stiles says. “But thanks for being here.”

Scott hauls him off the bed and into a hug, and Stiles hugs him back. “Always, dude.”

“Stiles…” Scott stops whatever he was going to say and just shakes his head. “Never mind. We can talk about it later.”

“If you say so,” Stiles says around another yawn. “You doing okay? With the full moon?”

Scott nods. “Yeah. Things are a lot better with your dad as the Alpha.”

Stiles grabs some clean clothing and quickly showers, the hot water waking him up all the way. He gets dressed and runs a hand over his hair. It’s normally about the time he’d buzz it off, but Stiles kind of wants to grow it out a bit. He feels like it’s time for a change.

There are sounds coming from the kitchen, and Stiles heads downstairs to find it busy. Moira is tossing pasta salad in a huge bowl, and Derek is prepping a tray full of burgers and brats for the grill.

Scott has been put to work cutting up vegetables, and Stiles smells bacon. “Can I help?”

“Check on the bacon in the oven,” Moira says. “And I have onions sliced that need to be cooked.”

Stiles knows that Moira likes cooked onions on her burger, and there are two piles: sliced, ready to be cooked, and chopped, ready to be added raw. He melts a couple of tablespoons of butter and starts browning the pile of sliced onions.

By the time the others assemble for dinner, everything is ready. The burgers and brats are on a platter on the table, there’s a pasta salad and green bean salad, and the entire pack is there.

“Who’s watching the station tonight?” Stiles asks, knowing that Paul is going to be with the pack.

“Mark is watching over things,” his dad says, eating his brat in quick bites. “How did things go today?”

Stiles shrugs. “We have an idea of what it is, but no idea what to do about it, so mixed results.”

“At least that’s something,” Noah replies. “You’ll figure the rest of it out in time.”

Stiles thinks his dad is being a little too optimistic, but he appreciates his faith as well. “I hope so.”

“I know so,” his dad says with a smile.

After they’ve all eaten, silverware in the dishwasher and paper plates in the trash, they head out to the Preserve, to the clearing they’ve staked out as their own during full moons.

Scott has definitely come a long way since he’d first been bitten, and Dave doesn’t seem to be struggling at all. Stiles sprawls next to him, because as much as he likes all of his dad’s deputies, Dave is a favorite. “How come you’re so calm?”

Dave snorts and waves a hand. “Are you kidding me? I’ve been working on maintaining a steady emotional state since I got diagnosed with PTSD. The full moon doesn’t bother me as much as an unexpected trigger does.”

“That makes sense,” Stiles replies.

Everyone is ranged around the clearing, sitting on the ground. Scott sits next to Stiles, Isaac on his other side, Erica half in Boyd’s lap. Tara sits on Dave’s other side, but his dad, Paul, and Moira stand in the center of the clearing.

“All right, sir, just take a deep breath,” Paul advises. “You want to focus on the wolf inside and embrace it. Let go of whatever reservations you have.”

Stiles loops his arms around his bent legs as he watches with interest. His dad is clearly trying to follow Paul’s less-than-clear instructions. His face shifts, red eyes flare, and he grows a mouth full of teeth.

“You’re feeling it in your head, not your gut,” Moira says. “Stiles, come over here. I think you can help.”

Stiles levers himself to his feet. “What do I need to do?”

“Put your hand on his chest and think about the werewolf spark,” Moira instructs.

Stiles feels a little awkward about it, but he shrugs and does as instructed. The thing is, Stiles can feel the spark, since it’s part of their bond, the thing that connects them.

Stiles pokes that spark with a bit of his magic, and his dad howls, then drops to all fours as the transformation settles. The wolf standing in his dad’s place is huge—his head even with Stiles’ chest, longer than he is tall, with sandy-gray fur and glowing, red eyes.

His dad whuffs at Derek, and it’s a clear order. Derek gets to his feet, and they repeat the process. Derek isn’t quite as big as his dad, and his fur is black, his eyes glowing blue.

“Me next!” Erica crows. “Please?”

His dad tosses his head. Erica doesn’t need Stiles’ intervention; she’s never hesitated to embrace her inner wolf, and so it’s easy. She’s much smaller than his dad, with similar coloring and golden eyes.

Isaac and Boyd are next—sandy-gray and black fur, respectively—and embrace it just as easily as Erica. Tara needs a little help, but Dave doesn’t, and then that just leaves Scott.

Scott is on his feet, clearly waffling as to whether he even wants to try.

His dad reverses the transformation, his expression concerned. “Is something wrong, Scott?”

“I just—I don’t know,” Scott says. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“What’s the problem?” Stiles asks.

Scott bites his lip. “I just don’t know.”

It’s clear that there’s something boiling under the surface, something that Scott isn’t willing to own up to right now.

“This isn’t about Allison, is it?” his dad asks suspiciously.

Scott shakes his head emphatically. “No, it has nothing to do with that.”

Stiles’ eyes narrow. “Do you want to be part of this pack?”

“Yes, of course,” Scott says quickly, but there’s something that rings a bit hollow for Stiles.

Moira clears her throat. “Scott, being a member of the pack now doesn’t mean you have to be in this pack forever. We’re not talking a lifetime commitment here.”

“You’ll always have a place in this pack,” his dad adds. “But Moira is right. You’ll likely leave for college, maybe get married and have a pack of your own one day. But I think you know that today is not that day.”

Scott laughs, and then he hangs his head. “I think I might need your help, Stiles.”

“You got it, dude,” Stiles says, putting his hand on Scott’s chest.

Stiles can still feel Scott’s disquiet through the bond, but it’s not about Allison; he believes that. It’s something else, and Stiles can’t put his finger on what, and he wonders if it’s the disquiet that’s making the bond feel somewhat muted.

He figures he’ll get it out of Scoff eventually, and just pushes magic into that spark.

Scott’s a lanky wolf, brown-black fur that curls every which way. His dad transforms back and howls, and the rest of the pack howl right along with him.

After a moment, there’s an answering group of howls, coming from outside the clearing. Stiles suspects that’s the alpha pack, trying to intimidate them, but the rest of the pack don’t seem scared. There are snarls and redoubled howls, fiercer and not as joyous as they had been.

The howls from the other pack retreat at that point, and his dad transforms back. “We all stick together tonight,” Noah announces. “No one goes off on their own.”

“Stiles and I will stay in the clearing,” Moira says.

The ‘wolves need to run, and that leaves him with Moira, and Stiles says, “I need to sign up for self-defense.”

“We’ll go tomorrow,” Moira promises.

Stiles hesitates. “I think you were right about Scott’s reason for hesitating, but I don’t think it was really coming from him or his mom.”

“Then who?” Moira asks.

Stiles shakes his head. “The only other person in Scott’s life with that much influence is Dr. Deaton. He knows about werewolves, and I’m pretty sure he knows a lot more than what he’s saying.”

Moira snorts. “Well, that sounds like a druid to me. I’ve been meaning to check into him, but we’ve had much bigger fish to fry up until now. If he’s undermining Scott, though, we ought to be aware.”

Stiles makes a face. “I really hope not, because trying to convince Scott that Deaton doesn’t have his best interests in mind would be harder than convincing him that Allison kidnapped me.”

“There are some people who just take a little longer to figure things out,” Moira says diplomatically. “Doesn’t mean they won’t get there in the end.”

Stiles laughs at that. “That was the alpha pack tonight, right?”

Moira smirks. “Yes, but they did not achieve their goal. There was no intimidation here.”

“This is dumb, right?” Stiles asks. “We’re bigger now. We have the whole sheriff’s station on our side, and at least a couple of people at the hospital.”

Moira glances at him, and then she smiles. “Stiles, they’ve never met an Alpha like your father, or a pack like ours. And they’ve never met us.”

Stiles laughs, and for the first time since they found out about the alpha pack, his worry starts to ebb slightly.

They’re going to be just fine. He knows it as he hears the joyful howls from his pack.

Chapter 7

Derek shakes his instructor’s hand, and Officer Jenkins smiles warmly. “I hope to see you at the next module, Mr. Hale. Your performance during this one has been excellent.”

“That’s the plan, sir,” Derek says formally. “I’m looking forward to starting my career.”

“I hear that there’s a spot waiting for you in Beacon Hills,” Jenkins replies.

Derek nods. “That’s the current plan. Sheriff Stilinski has been really great to me.”

“I did some background research,” Jenkins admits. “I’m sorry about your family.”

“Thank you, sir,” Derek says. He never really knows how to respond to expressions of sympathy.

He moves aside for the next student collecting their certification. They’ve finished the first module, with the next starting in four weeks, so they have a bit of a break. He’ll start it about a month after the kids start their junior year of high school.

Tonight, though, he’s bringing Parrish back to Beacon Hills to formally meet Noah, to see if inviting him to join the department as a reserve officer makes sense after the next module.

He and Parrish had been neck-and-neck with their scores from the beginning, coming in first and second in their class, respectively. Noah wants a closer look, and to see how the rest of the pack reacts to him.

Derek waits for Parrish to get through the relatively short line—they’d gone in alphabetic order—and then they walk out together. Once they’re out in the parking lot, Parrish lets out a whoop and claps Derek on the shoulder. “One step closer!”

Derek grins and returns the gesture. Over the last few months, they’ve become friends in between classes and study sessions, and a couple of trips to the range to practice.

Like Derek, Parrish is an orphan without any family to claim him, and he’s told Derek that part of his desire to become a cop is the brotherhood.

“You still up for a trip to Beacon Hills?” Derek asks.

Parrish nods eagerly. “Yeah, for sure. You sure the sheriff still wants me there? I was a little surprised that he wasn’t here today.”

Derek shakes his head. “There have been some disturbing events recently, and he didn’t want to go too far from home.”

Parrish seems to relax at that. “That makes sense, although I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Derek insists. “I wouldn’t have invited you if you weren’t welcome, and Noah wants to meet you, anyway.”

Parrish nods. “I’ll follow you, then.”

The drive back to Beacon Hills is peaceful, and Derek allows his mind to wander freely. There have been signs of the alpha pack coming into town, leaving triskele painted in various places.

There have been no actual sightings, and Derek knows that they’re engaging in psychological warfare. They’ve thoroughly investigated Peter’s laptop for anything he might have had on them, but it’s not much.

Other than that, though, it’s been fairly quiet. Stiles has been working extensively with Moira on magic, as well as picking up judo. The other kids all have summer jobs, plus practicing lacrosse whenever they can.

In spite of the danger posed, Derek feels as though everyone has settled into their roles. Dave has been through two full moons now, and he’s taken to being a wolf with the same ease as Noah.

As goofy as Dave can be, Derek already knows what role he’ll take in the pack—that of left hand, probably both at home and the station. Tara is right hand at the station, which functions like a second pack in a lot of ways.

Derek thinks it’s interesting that Dave is slotting more into the structure of the family pack, rather than the station, but it’s clear that Dave is searching for more than just a job.

He pulls up in front of the house, and waits for Parrish to do the same. Parrish parks on the street, and then follows Derek inside. “Wait, you can just walk right in?” Parrish asks in a low voice.

“I stay here sometimes,” Derek admits. “When I say that the sheriff took me under his wing, I mean that literally. Anybody home?”

“Derek, hey!” Stiles says, coming out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. “We’re grilling—chicken and veggies. We have sides and stuff, too, to celebrate.”

“It’s just the first module,” Derek replies. “You can congratulate me when I get through all of the training.”

Stiles smirks at him. “Milestones are important, Der.” He holds out a hand to Parrish. “I’m Stiles Stilinski.”

“Jordan Parrish.” He shakes Stiles hand without a hint of the condescension with which a lot of people treat him. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Same,” Stiles replies cheerfully. “It’s nice to know that Derek has someone to watch his back in class.”

“Watch my back and offer some competition,” Derek inserts.

Parrish laughs. “True. We were neck-and-neck the entire module.”

“Well, welcome,” Stiles replies. “I know Dad is excited to meet you. He’s still at the station, but he said they’d come home for dinner, even if they have to eat and run. You can probably get the nickel tour if you ask nicely, Mr. Parrish.”

Parrish shakes his head. “Just Parrish. Is there anything I can do?”

“Come on back,” Stiles says. “Nothing for right now, but Moira left to restock beverages, and she might have a different answer.”

Stiles is putting on a good front, but Derek can sense the anxiety simmering just under the surface. In a lot of ways, therapy has been good for Stiles, but it also helps him mask the panic attacks from the rest of the pack.

Derek resists the urge to ask him how he’s doing, because it’s pretty obvious, and there’s no way Derek will get an honest answer in front of Parrish.

“Where is everyone else?” Derek asks.

Stiles glances at him. “Erica is at work, but should be here soon. Everyone else is practicing lacrosse, and their arrival is also imminent.”

“Why aren’t you practicing?” Derek senses that something is off.

“Because I was getting food ready, and because Moira and I had an afternoon consultation with Noelani,” Stiles replies. “Besides, with those four on the team, the chances of me riding the bench are incredibly high.”

Derek frowns. “That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try.”

Stiles gives Parrish a quick glance. “I have bigger fish to fry right now.”

Derek knows he’s not going to get a better answer, so he says, “How did the meeting go?”

Stiles shrugs. “Fine.”

Now it’s Parrish’s turn to look at Derek, and Stiles sighs and says, “I’m fine, Derek. Dad got notified of a body the next county over—looks like another vagrant.”

“Same MO as the others?” Derek asks.

Stiles nods. “From what I heard, yeah. It’s statistically unlikely that they’re unrelated at this point, but there’s nothing to point to who’s doing it.”

Parrish frowns. “You know a lot about the investigation.”

Stiles smirks. “I keep my ears open, and I was here when he got the call. Also, I have a police scanner that I use liberally.”

“Stiles is a little paranoid,” Derek adds. “At least about the sheriff’s safety.”

“He’s the only dad I have, and I’m rather fond of him,” Stiles says as the front door opens.

“Stiles! Come help me,” Moira calls.

“We’ve got it,” Derek says.

“It’s your party,” Stiles objects.

Derek just pats him on the shoulder. “Yeah, and we’ve still got it.”

“And who is this handsome stranger?” Moira asks as Parrish trails after him.

“This is Jordan Parrish,” Derek replies.

She smiles. “Ah, the friend from your course that Noah is hoping to recruit. Pleasure.”

“The pleasure is mine, ma’am,” Parrish says earnestly, and then shoots a look at Derek.

“This is Moira Keynes, and she’s a family friend,” Derek says, although he knows that’s no explanation at all.

“How big is this family?” Parrish asks as they head out for Moira’s vehicle. She’d long since given up her rented vehicle.

“Noah tends to collect people,” Derek replies mildly. “Chances are pretty good that he’ll try to collect you, too.”

Parrish’s eyes narrow. “This isn’t a cult, right?”

Derek barks a laugh. “Hardly.”

Of course, as he says that, Isaac pulls up in his dad’s old car with Boyd and Erica as passengers. “Hey, Derek. Can we help?”

The boys are sweaty, and Erica just looks pleased with herself. “We have drinks.”

“Congrats, man,” Boyd murmurs, pulling Derek in for a hug.

Erica, as usual, just jumps on him. “Congrats!”

Derek can’t really tell her no, not when she reminds him so much of his younger sister. “Thanks. This is Jordan Parrish.”

“The friend,” Erica says. “Derek says you’ve been watching his back while he’s there. Thanks!”

Parrish doesn’t really seem to know what to do about that. “You’re welcome?”

“Derek’s the best honorary brother ever,” Erica declares. “Except maybe Stiles. It’s neck-and-neck.”

Parrish glances at Derek, and he just shrugs. He can’t explain his life, not unless or until Noah explains the pack. But when Derek shrugs, Parrish says to Erica, “Maybe you’ll show me the ropes,” and the way he says it is like another older brother, not flirtatious at all.

Boyd and Isaac share a look, and Isaac smiles. “Isaac Lahey, and this is Vernon Boyd, but he prefers Boyd. Welcome to the madhouse, Mr. Parrish.”

“Just Parrish,” he says again.

They cart the drinks inside, and Stiles directs them to the cooler out on the back deck. “Just go ahead and put those on ice.”

“Missed you today, Stiles,” Boyd says.

Stiles snorts. “Oh, you missed hurling lacrosse balls at me? I doubt it.”

There is definitely a story there, because Boyd looks away, and Isaac and Scott shuffle their feet. “Yeah, didn’t think so,” Stiles mutters.

“What the hell happened?” Derek asks.

“It’s between us,” Stiles says firmly. “But I’ve decided to focus my efforts on judo anyway. I won’t have time for my lessons and cross country when school starts. I’ll have AP classes this year, too, and I want to pick up as many college credits as I can.”

“Stiles,” Scott protests. “It won’t be the same without you.”

“I’m sure I’ll find time to go running alone or with someone else,” Stiles replies. “I did this morning.”

Stiles smiles broadly. “Today is about you guys, though. We’re celebrating your milestone.”

Derek knows a subject change when one is lobbed his way. “When do you get your dog?”

“Next week,” Stiles replies. “Another reason lacrosse isn’t going to be my jam. I doubt Finstock will be cool with an emotional support animal at cross country or lacrosse.”

“Stiles,” Scott begins helplessly.

Stiles just shakes his head. “Closed topic. We’re here for Derek and Parrish, end of story. Sorry to subject you to the usual teenage drama, Parrish. Derek’s used to it by now.”

Parrish smiles. “Honestly, it’s pretty much what I heard being in a family was like. I never had one, so I wasn’t sure.”

“My dude, you have come to the right location,” Stiles exclaims. “You will get all the family feels you need here, and probably more than you wanted.”

Parrish shrugs. “I doubt it.”

“Good,” Stiles replies. “You’ll fit right in.”

“Can I get you something to drink?” Derek asks Parrish. “Noah usually keeps beer around, but there’s soda and water, too.”

“I’d take a beer, if that’s all right,” Parrish replies.

Derek grabs two bottles and hands one off as Stiles retrieves the bottle opener.

“Does someone need to start the grill?” Derek asks.

Stiles shakes his head. “Nah, we got it going. It’s your party, dude.”

“I’m still happy to help,” Derek replies.

“I appreciate that about you,” Stiles says cheerfully, “but Moira and I have got it.”

When feeding a large number of hungry teenagers, a grill can be super helpful, cooking plenty of burgers, hot dogs, chicken, and even vegetables. Today, it looks like Stiles is corn on the cob to go alongside the meat.

Derek and Stiles had gone in with the rest of the pack to purchase a larger grill for Father’s Day in June, although Derek thinks Stiles has used it more.

“Can we do anything?” Isaac asks hesitantly.

“It’s all taken care of,” Moira replies, firmly. “Now, give us room.”

There’s definitely a note of disapproval in her voice, so Moira knows what happened.

Derek has been busy getting ready for his finals for the first module, so it’s entirely possible that he missed something.

He’s going to get to the bottom of it as soon as possible.

“Come on,” Derek says to Parrish. “Let’s go out back. We can keep an eye on the grill that way.”

The back deck is a decent size, just a step off the ground, with a small patio table and a few chairs. At this time of day, the sun is on the other side of the house, so it’s very comfortable.

Parrish takes a pull from his beer. “So, what was that?”

Derek just shakes his head. “Stiles is developing some different interests, and Scott’s ex-girlfriend helped orchestrate his kidnapping. Like in all families, things don’t always go smoothly.”

Parrish nods. “Yeah, I get that. Stiles and Moira seem close.”

“They are,” Derek confirms. “Honorary aunt.”

Parrish hums under his breath. “You know I’m not an idiot, right?”

“I do know that,” Derek replies, amused. “You wouldn’t have graduated right behind me if you were.”

“Then you have to know that this whole thing smells like there’s more going on than what’s obvious on the surface,” Parrish says.

“I would be really concerned about your sense of smell if you hadn’t realized that,” Derek replies.

Parrish takes a deep breath. “So, that means the sheriff wants to vet me to see if I want to be a part of it.”

“Partially,” Derek admits. “Also, I like you, you’re second in our class, and he has room in the budget to hire two people. I’m a given; he’s hoping you’re a good candidate, too.”

“I like him,” Stiles announces as he comes outside with a giant foil pan of raw chicken parts.

Parrish smiles. “You don’t know me.”

“I get feelings about people,” Stiles replies, lifting the lid of the grill. “And I have a good feeling about you.”

“I like what I’ve seen of Beacon Hills,” Parrish admits. “And I like what I’ve heard about the sheriff.”

The sliding glass door behind them opens again, and Noah steps outside, still in uniform. “Good to know. Derek, I’m sorry I wasn’t at home when you got here.”

Derek stands and accepts the hug Noah offers, and Noah claps him on the back. “It’s okay. Stiles explained.”

“Still, I’m sorry I couldn’t be there,” Noah replies.

Derek is warmed, but shakes his head. “It’s okay.”

Noah cups the back of Derek’s neck. “It’s not, but at least we have a party.”

He turns to Parrish and holds out a hand. “You must be Jordan Parrish. I’m Noah. Derek’s spoken really highly of you.”

Parrish blushes. “It’s nice to meet you, sir. Thanks for having me.”

“It’s good to have you here,” Noah replies. “Derek mentioned that you don’t have much family.”

Parrish shrugs. “I aged out of foster care at eighteen.”

“Well, I hope you’ll make yourself at home,” Noah replies. “A few of my deputies will be here, too. Feel free to ask them any questions you like. Things are informal tonight, but from what Derek has said, you’d be a good fit. I hope you’ll see if things feel right on your end.”

Parrish smiles. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

Noah crosses to the grill and pulls Stiles into a hug, and it’s only his senses that allow Derek to hear his whisper, “You okay? Moira said there was some trouble.”

“There was a difference of opinion,” Stiles replies. “I’m not doing sports this year.”

“You know I’ll support you in whatever you decide,” Noah finally says. “But I also hope you’ll talk to me if you need to.”

Stiles gives his dad a quick smile. “It’s just fodder for Jack.”

Noah ruffles his hair, which Stiles has grown out. “All right.”

He sends a questioning look Derek’s way, but Derek just shrugs.

The sliding door opens again, and Dave, Paul, and Tara step out onto the deck, followed closely by Dave’s dogs, Cocoa and Nibs.

“Hey, there’s our rookie!” Dave calls, and he’s the first to pull Derek into another hug. “Sorry we couldn’t be there.”

Cocoa is doing her best to bowl Stiles over for kisses, while Nibs tries to climb into Parrish’s lap with joyful whines.

Derek glances at Parrish, but he doesn’t appear distressed. Instead, he’s scratching Nibs’ ears and saying, “Oh, who’s the best boy? Such a good boy!”

“As I told Noah, it’s really fine,” Derek insists. “No one else had family there.”

“Still, we’re proud of you,” Tara says, pulling Derek into a hug of her own.

Paul takes his turn. “Yeah, can’t wait until we get you as a reserve officer. Is this the new blood?”

“Nibs! Cocoa!” Dave barks. “Down!”

With a final whine, Nibs backs off and lays down. Cocoa is slower to respond. She looks at Dave like he’s just ruined her life, which makes Parrish laugh more freely than Derek has heard to date.

“Cocoa, down,” Stiles says. “You can have some chicken later.”

With a disappointed whuff, Cocoa lies next to Nibs.

“Oh, my god, those are great dogs,” Parrish says enthusiastically.

“Yeah, that’s Cocoa and Nibs,” Dave replies. “Dave Anders, nice to meet you.”

Parrish holds out his hand. “Jordan Parrish.”

The introductions go quickly after that, Parrish looking a little overwhelmed at the warm welcome he receives.

“Hey, Dad, could you grab the sauce from inside?” Stiles calls. “I need to baste.”

Noah hasn’t sat down, so he’s quick to go inside and grab the dish of barbecue sauce and a silicone brush. He and Stiles put their heads together over the perfect cook on the chicken, while Tara and Paul sit with Derek and Parrish, and Dave distracts the dogs with a tennis ball retrieved from a basket where Stiles likes to keep the dog toys.

“This is—really awesome,” Parrish says slowly, looking around. “Are all of the deputies this close?”

Everyone keeps a perfectly straight face. “Not everyone, but it’s a tight station,” Tara says. “The three of us are single and don’t have any family, so we tend to gravitate towards the sheriff’s house.”

“I also feed you!” Noah calls. “Don’t forget that.”

“It’s why we tend to spring for pizza or Chinese once or twice a month,” Paul murmurs.

Melissa comes out to the backyard with one of the doctors she’s been courting. “Derek, I hear congratulations are in order.”

Derek stands and accepts the hug she offers, then holds out his hand to the doctor who had treated Stiles’ gunshot injury. “Nice to see you again.”

Ellie smiles. “Congratulations, Derek.” So far, while she’s been receptive to their overtures, she hasn’t indicated that she wants to be pack—although she seems to have no problem being pack-adjacent, like Melissa.

“Thanks for coming,” Derek replies. “This is Jordan Parrish.”

Parrish shakes her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Congratulations to you, as well,” Ellie replies.

Stiles starts to take chicken off the grill, transferring them to a clean foil pan, and they soon sit down to eat. Parrish looks a little overwhelmed. There are half a dozen conversations going on at once, people eating outside, at the dining room table, and the living room. There’s the barbecued chicken, baked beans, coleslaw, and corn, and Derek relaxes into the chaos.

He ends up eating outside with Parrish, Noah, Stiles, and the rest of the deputies, who either sit at the table or nearby on the edge of the deck.

“Stiles,” Noah says.

“You know I like hanging out with Derek,” Stiles replies. “And Parrish is looking like a likely prospect.”

Parrish frowns. “For what?”

“For the station,” Stiles replies, just as Moira comes out.

“Hmm, I’d agree,” she says. “You should lock him in sooner, rather than later, Noah. He did graduate second.”

Noah sighs. “Right, well.” He gives Parrish’s plate a judicious look. “We’ll make the pitch after folks have eaten.”

Derek is amused when Parrish starts to shovel in his food, clearly wanting to get to the explanation.

Derek finishes off his own meal, and he glances at Stiles. “The food was really great. Thank you.”

Stiles flushes. “You’re welcome.”

Parrish is licking his fingers. “Best celebration I’ve had in my entire life. Thanks. That was awesome.”

Stiles’ blush deepens. “You’re also welcome. Anybody want seconds?”

No one does, and Stiles gathers the paper plates and silverware to take them inside.

“I like Beacon Hills, sir,” Parrish says earnestly. “I like the idea of serving here, and nothing I’ve seen today has changed that.”

Noah nods slowly. “Well, I hope what you see next doesn’t change that opinion, but I am going to ask you to keep it to yourself.”

Noah doesn’t say that Moira is on standby to wipe Parrish’s memory if necessary.

“Yes, sir,” Parrish says steadily. “I’m ready for anything.”

Noah’s eyes flare red, his face changes, and his fangs drop.

Parrish stares, but then just nods. “Yeah, okay.”

“You’re okay with that?” Noah asks, pressing slightly.

Parrish shrugs. “I saw a few things when I was in the system, so I know the supernatural exists, and it explains a few things. I think I’ll try to find a job locally.”

“I can help with that,” Paul says. “I have a friend who owns a bar in town, and Derek mentioned that you bartend. I’ll give you his number.”

“That would be great, thanks,” Parrish says, and that’s pretty exciting. Derek feels like he’s somewhere in between the adults of the pack and the kids, and this is one person who’s actually his peer.

And a friend.

~~~~~~

Noah is pleased with Derek’s recruitment of Jordan Parrish. He’d taken the revelation about werewolves with more equanimity than expected, and Noah had already tasked Mark with running a background check. He’d been in the system most of his life, although it’s unclear why he wound up in foster care.

Parrish’s record is squeaky clean, his scores from the first module were second only to Derek’s, and he has an earnestness that Noah finds endearing.

By the time Parrish regretfully takes his leave, it’s clear that Tara, Paul, and Dave are all itching to take the kid under their wing. All three of his deputies offer their contact information and make sure to get his, and Noah checks to make sure he’s good to drive, since it’s late.

“Yes, sir, I’m good to go,” Parrish replies. “I really appreciate the opportunity.”

“I’ll let the school know that we’ll be sponsoring both of you for the next module,” Noah offers. “I’ve got a bit of room in the budget to help defray costs.”

Parrish shakes his head. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I like the idea of snapping up the best deputies coming out of that module,” Noah replies. “Drive safe now.”

“Yes, sir,” Parrish replies.

Noah steps back inside and finds an uncomfortable silence, with Derek glaring at Scott and Isaac, less so at Boyd, although Boyd still looks uncomfortable.

“You’re not going to change my mind,” Stiles says, sounding exasperated. “My no ought to be good enough for you.”

“What no is that?” Noah asks.

“I’m not participating in cross country or lacrosse this year,” Stiles says firmly. “I have my self-defense classes three times a week, plus magic lessons, plus I don’t think Coach Finstock is going to be okay with me having an emotional support animal at practice.”

Scott glances at Noah guiltily, and then says, “But we said we were sorry!”

“That incident was a minor factor in my decision, and I don’t think you want to rehash this in front of my dad,” Stiles snaps.

The disagreement has drawn Melissa’s attention now, too. “Scott, what happened?”

“We got a little carried away at our last practice,” Scott admits after a long pause.

Noah looks at Stiles. “Is that true?”

“They were showing off for each other, they weren’t paying attention, and I got hit with a lacrosse ball,” Stiles says. “It hurt.”

Scott’s expression is more than a little defensive. Isaac and Boyd are definitely sheepish. “You were fine! You shook it off.”

Stiles yanks up the leg of his shorts to show a bruise the size of Noah’s fist. “You told me to shake it off, and I decided not to make a big deal out of it. You’re the one making this weird, dude.”

Stiles has had worse injuries playing lacrosse in the past, but Noah knows part of this is Stiles feeling a bit of a divide between himself and the werewolves in the pack. Stiles is planning to take as many AP classes as he can to knock out a semester’s worth of college, at least.

And the judo lessons have been going so well that Stiles has already tested for his yellow belt.

“It’s Stiles’ decision what extracurriculars he wants to take,” Noah says with finality. “And if he doesn’t want to participate in lacrosse, he doesn’t have to do so, and that’s an end of the matter.”

Isaac and Boyd nod, apparently relieved not to be rebuked over Stiles’ bruise. Scott appears mutinous. “But Sheriff!”

Mel rubs her eyes. “Scott, come on. Drop it. Stiles is allowed to have a life that’s separate from you.”

“But he already has magic!” Scott protests. “And we’re not going to be taking any of the same classes, and—“

Teenage drama can be so messy.

“Noah, I think Scott might need an opportunity to sleep on this,” Melissa says.

“I concur,” Noah replies. “Scott, get out of here. Boyd, Isaac, I know you have somewhere to be, too.”

Erica knows how to read a room on occasion. “Think I’ll just head home. Derek, congratulations. Stiles—“ She gives him a hug and whispers in his ear, “I think you’re being smart.”

Ellie left a couple of hours before, and Noah’s deputies had gone back to the station, knowing that Noah wanted a little more time with the kids. So, at least the drama hadn’t reached a wider audience.

Stiles gives an exasperated sigh as soon as the others leave, but Noah is a little surprised when he turns to Derek. “You could have left it alone!”

“That sort of thing can fester in a pack,” Derek replies unapologetically. “So, no. I could smell the guilt on them. And you’re in pain.”

“I have a nasty bruise, but I’ve had worse,” Stiles says firmly. “I told you that it was handled.”

“You decided not to play lacrosse,” Derek argues. “That seems out of character.”

“Derek, I appreciate your assistance, but I need to talk to Stiles about coordinating the pick up tomorrow,” Noah says. “It’s getting late, and you’ve had a big day, so let’s get some sleep.”

He and Stiles retreat to his office. “Stiles.”

“Was it the alpha pack again?” Stiles asks in a clear bid to change the subject.

Noah decides to indulge him. “Yes, we think so. Same MO, although this time we’re pretty sure where he was abducted, and I have a call into Sheriff Morrison to see if they have any camera footage.”

Stiles nods, and Noah clears his throat. “Talk to me, kiddo. Help me understand. If you don’t want to do lacrosse, I won’t force it, but if it’s about pack business…”

“Moira and I have had some serious discussions about priorities,” Stiles admits after a pause. “I’m good at school, and I do want to take more AP classes. I’m good at magic, and it turns out that I might be pretty decent at judo, too. They don’t need me on the lacrosse team.”

“Do you want to play lacrosse?” Noah asks. “Because if you do, I think we can find a way to make that happen.”

Stiles shakes his head. “I want to do things that make me feel good about myself, not things that make me feel like shit.”

“Okay,” Noah says, accepting Stiles’ declaration at face value. “Do you want company tomorrow?”

Stiles nods. “Yeah, but you can’t go. You’re waiting on information.”

“Maybe you should ask Scott to go with you,” Noah suggests.

Stiles snorts. “I would have, but I asked Scott not to make a big deal about this. What you didn’t see was that he started pushing me to sign up for cross country as soon as you walked out with Parrish. Derek wanted to know why it was so important. It’s just growing pains, Dad.”

Noah sighs. “I know how that works. Okay, I’m sure Moira would go. I don’t want you going by yourself.”

Stiles nods. “I’ll talk to her.”

“Stiles—“ Noah takes a deep breath. “I’m proud of you, kiddo. You’re making smart choices for yourself, and that’s important.”

A smile breaks out over Stiles’ face. “Thanks, Dad.”

Noah takes a deep breath as Stiles leaves his office, and he’s not surprised when Derek slips inside next.

Noah leans back in his chair, waiting for Derek to break the silence. Derek finally sighs. “I’m sorry if I overstepped.”

“You feel protective of my son, and I’m not going to fault you for that,” Noah says. “If you’re going to apologize to anyone, it’s Stiles.”

Derek winces. “Yeah, that’s next.”

“I liked Parrish,” Noah says, changing the subject. “He was a good find, Derek. I hope you’ll keep that up.”

Derek blushes. “I’ll do my best.”

“Go on, get out of here,” Noah says. “I have some paperwork to catch up on.”

Derek hesitates. “Thanks for tonight. I know it meant a lot to Parrish, too.”

Noah smiles. “We’re pack—and that includes the one cousin you can’t fucking stand.”

Derek barks a laugh at that. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Noah does have paperwork, but he’s also hoping that Sheriff Morrison will call him back tonight; he said she could.

He’s relieved when his cell phone rings, and Sheriff Morrison is on the line. “Sorry, it took me some time to get the video footage.”

Noah blinks. “You have video?”

“Those assholes have been staying in an apartment building in town,” Morrison says grimly. “We got lucky, because one of the previous victims was panhandling at a gas station. One of them was caught on camera, and we started tracing them from there. I wanted to have some answers for you when I called.”

Noah blows out a breath. “You have more answers than most have come up with, Shelly. That’s good work.”

“As I said, we got lucky,” Morrison says. “We’d be nowhere if they’d noticed there was a camera. They’ve managed to avoid them so far.”

Noah takes a deep breath. “Yeah, well. They’ve done a lot of smart things.”

“If they hadn’t been dumping the bodies, they could have gotten away with it for a lot longer,” Morrison comments.

“They weren’t interested in getting away with it,” Noah replies. “They were interested in toying with us.”

“I just sent you stills from the video,” Morrison says.

Noah opens his email and pulls up the pictures. “Is—is one of them blind?”

“Or pretending to be,” Morrison says. “And one of them is running around barefoot for some unknown reason. We found footprints.”

Noah clicks on the next photo, and he can see what Morrison is talking about. “What the actual fuck?”

“Right?” she asks. “I mean, I like going barefoot, too, but why would you wear something on your toes?”

Noah knows why she’s asking the question, considering the claws that the werewolf is sporting. It’s an easier explanation to arrive at for someone who doesn’t know about werewolves. “I have no idea,” Noah says.

“Now that we have pictures, do you have a contact at the FBI?” Morrison asks.

Noah has spoken to Abe Marsh and Nikki Betancourt multiple times, but there are politics at play. It’s one thing when you have a sheriff’s son kidnapped, and a multi-state crime spree in the form of arsons with a bunch of murders, and then a sheriff’s station attacked in broad daylight. It’s another when it’s the bodies of several vagrants who appear to have been killed by a wild animal.

“I can pass it along,” Noah says. “But they’re short on resources.”

Morrison snorts. “No kidding. Find a new tune.”

Noah looks at the rest of the photos, including one of a big, bald guy, and another of identical twins who don’t look much older than the kids in his pack. “I’ll pass these around my department, and I suggest we do the same for the surrounding areas.”

“Already done,” Morrison says, sounding amused. “I’ve listed them as persons of interest, but to consider them potentially dangerous.”

Noah grimaces. “Yeah. Can I give you a piece of advice, Shel?”

“I’m willing to listen,” Shelly replies.

“Headshots,” Noah says succinctly.

There’s a pause. “You think they might have body armor?”

“I wouldn’t put it past them,” Noah replies.

Morrison is quiet for a long time. “Once we’re past this, I’m expecting you to buy me a beer and fill me in.”

Noah is quiet, because he likes Morrison, and he thinks she can probably handle the truth, but it’s still a significant risk.

“And if you want to tell me that the barefoot chick is a werewolf, I’d believe you,” she adds.

Noah snorts. “Shel.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know you are. Which is why I’m telling you that headshots are the way to go, and I will absolutely buy you a beer when this is over,” Noah promises. “And if you know any others who might be willing to hear an off-the-wall explanation, I’ll buy beers for them, too.”

Morrison laughs. “We have a pack of our own here, Noah. They’ve been watching the developments with interest. Good job with the Argents, by the way.”

“They fought the law, and the law won,” Noah jokes.

Morrison groans. “Oh, my god. Dad jokes.”

“I’m a dad,” Noah replies.

“Go away,” Morrison replies. “Correct yourself.”

“Take headshots,” Noah counters.

She hangs up on him, and Noah laughs.

The following day, Noah pauses in the kitchen to touch base with Stiles and Moira, who has agreed to drive Stiles to pick up his service dog. “Are you okay with this?” Noah asks her.

Moira sniffs. “We can use the drive to drill on the magical properties of various minerals.”

Stiles grins. “I’m ready.”

“Be careful today,” Noah says. He’s anxious about allowing his kid outside of his territory, but he’s glad that Moira will be with him.

Moira clearly senses that, because she pats his hand. “Don’t worry, Noah. I’ve waited too long for a student like Stiles to let anything happen to him. But you be careful, too.”

“Before you go, I want you to look at some pictures,” Noah says. “And if you see them, I want you to take whatever necessary measures to get away.”

Noah has already grabbed the printouts from his office, and shows them the grainy photos.

“Is that guy blind?” Stiles asks, peering at the photo of the man with sunglasses and a white cane.

“Or he’s giving people the impression that he’s blind,” Moira comments. “But look at this girl—she’s not even trying to hide. What the hell?”

“I mean, they’ve killed a bunch of people already,” Stiles points out, looking at the twins. “They look like they’re about my age.”

Noah nods. “And I want you to share those pictures with Danny, too. There’s a chance they’ll try to get an in that way.”

Stiles nods. “Got it, Pops. Just—be careful today.”

Noah pulls him into a rough hug. “Will do.”

He doesn’t want to let his kid go, but he knows this is important. “All right, you’d better get on the road.”

He has to get to the station anyway, and he heads over there without seeing Derek, although he knows that Derek has been going running in the mornings.

Noah steps into a busy station, and Tara immediately calls out, “Any news from Sheriff Morrison, sir?”

“I do have news,” Noah replies. “So, gather around, everyone.”

He passes around the pictures. “These are our suspects. I have a call scheduled in a bit with Agent Marsh, and I’m hoping the FBI can provide some help identifying them. Morrison has a BOLO out for all five as persons of interest. I’m going to tell you what I told her: if you feel threatened, and there’s a need to use deadly force—you take a head shot.”

Everyone looks at each other. “Sir?” Tara says hesitantly. “Won’t that be obvious?”

“It might,” Noah admits. “But they’ve killed a lot of people, and I’m not risking any of my deputies, understand?”

Paul nods. “Got it, sir.”

The rest of them chime in, and then Dave says, “You, uh, do remember what I did in the Army, don’t you, Sheriff?”

Noah does remember. “I’m keeping that in my back pocket, Dave, thank you.”

“What did Dave do?” one of the other deputies mutters.

“Sniper,” Paul replies.

Noah retreats to his office to call Marsh, and Abe picks up on the second ring. “I got the photos Sheriff Morrison sent,” Marsh says. “I’ve sent them to one of our consultants, since they’re too grainy for regular facial recognition. He’s a whiz with this sort of thing, though, and he says end of day, he might have something.”

Noah sighs. “Well, anything is better than the almost nothing we have right now.”

“I’m sorry we can’t be of more help,” Marsh says. “The problem is that it looks like animal attacks, and while I believe you that it’s the alpha pack…”

“The victims are not human, and even if you were able to catch the alpha pack, you wouldn’t be able to keep them,” Noah says with a sigh. “I get it. Any help you can give is appreciated.”

“Keep me updated,” Marsh says. “And good luck.”

Noah hangs up and rubs his eyes, and Tara sticks her head into his office. “We got a call about a couple of kids tagging. I can go or send one of the deputies—“

“I’ll go,” Noah replies. “I could stand to stretch my legs.”

“Take someone with you,” Tara insists. “Take Dave.”

“I’m keeping Dave in my back pocket,” Noah replies. “But you’re welcome to come and help scare off a couple of kids.”

Tara grins. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Dave and Paul look comically disappointed not to be asked to go. “We could totally scare them!” Dave protests.

Noah gives him a look. “I need you to make sure your weapons are clean and ready to go.”

That settles Dave down. “Yes, sir.”

When they head out to the warehouse where the kids were reported having been seen tagging, Noah sees the twins from the picture. “Tara, run,” he says.

She shakes her head stubbornly. “No, sir.”

The barefoot woman sprints out from the shadows, and Noah knows that he probably needs to start sparring with his people. He stays fit, because it’s important for the job, but he’s rusty on his hand-to-hand.

He rolls to get out of her way and sees a set of claws swiping at his face, then rolls the other way. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the shirtless twins merging to form one giant werewolf.

Noah kicks out blindly and connects with the back of a knee. He hears a grunt, and he fully transforms instinctually, tearing at the Achilles tendon before bounding away. His transformation has changed the balance of power, and then Tara changes, and they stand shoulder to shoulder, growling a warning.

The blind man emerges from the shadows, cane tucked under his arm, slow clapping in a super insulting way. “You’ve surprised me, Sheriff. I had expected to come here to find a weak alpha, and instead I found something else.”

Noah transforms back. “Yeah, I like to surprise.”

Tara stays fully transformed, her low growl fierce and uncompromising, promising torn tendons if anyone gets close. The alpha pack clearly doesn’t know how to fight fully transformed wolves; it’s also a strong advantage.

The ostensibly blind man smiles. “Indeed. Well, I’m sure you’d like to be rid of me, Sheriff, and I can tell you that it’s easy. Just kill one of your betas, and we’ll be on our way.”

Noah waits for the punchline, then realizes that he’s serious. “What.”

“You don’t know what a rush it is!” he replies, treating it like a question. “You absorb their power! Think how much better you’ll be able to protect your territory!”

Tara snarls.

“Yeah, no,” Noah says, relaxing his stance. “I’m not doing that. Every member of my pack is precious to me. Every one of them. Besides, who are you? Why the fuck do you think I’d do anything just because you ordered me?”

“Me?” the man asks. “I’m Deucalion! I’m the Demon Wolf! Surely, one beta wolf is worth the lives of ten or twenty? I can keep killing people, Sheriff, and leaving their corpses on your doorstep. Now that I have your attention, you know what you have to do in order to stop me.”

Noah knows that it won’t be long before pack members start showing up. The pack bonds are strong, and they’ll be able to feel his and Tara’s distress. Although the beginnings of a plan are starting to form, and it will involve Dave and his sniper rifle, Noah doesn’t want to give anything away.

Deucalion thinks a lot of himself, and not a lot of the strength of Noah’s pack; being underestimated will make it easier for him to set a trap.

“I assume you’d like me to kill them in front of you,” Noah says dryly.

“How else could I be sure?” Deucalion scoffs. “You’ll understand once you feel the power rush. The strong only become stronger.”

Noah nods slowly. “Got it. Well, it seems we’re at an impasse then. I suggest that you stay out of my town if you want to stay alive.”

“We’ll see if you feel that way after the next innocent dies, and you could have stopped it,” Deucalion replies and makes a hand motion.

The other werewolves stalk away, and Tara remains at his back, snarling quietly.

“That fucker,” Noah mutters. “What an arrogant piece of shit.”

Tara transforms back. “You know he’s wrong, right? You’re not responsible for anything that motherfucker does.”

“I am well aware of that,” Noah replies. “The only person I ever let send me on a guilt trip is my kid.”

Tara barks a laugh as Noah’s phone rings. He picks up immediately, and Stiles demands, “Are you okay?”

“We’re fine,” Noah replies. “We met the alpha pack, and they’re the biggest fucking assholes.”

“Dad, language!” Stiles says, but there’s laughter in his voice, and that’s what Noah had been going for. “You’d better text the pack. I could feel you and Tara through the bond, and it was really intense for about two minutes, then you guys just felt pissed off.”

Derek enters the warehouse at a run, looking around wildly. “Is everything okay?”

“I’ll send a group text,” Stiles says. “You calm Derek down. He’ll rile everyone else up otherwise.” There’s a pause. “And I want details for how you plan on taking these fuckers down.”

His kid hangs up before Noah can caution him on his language, and Noah has to admire that parting shot. Tara is patting Derek’s shoulder, reassuring him. “We’re fine,” she’s saying. “We both transformed, and that threw them off.”

Derek puts his hands on his knees and about doubles over. “I felt—I was out for a run, and I thought—“

Noah has some idea what Derek might have been thinking, and he closes the distance and pulls Derek into a hug. “It’s okay, son. I’m fine, and the pack is going to be safe. I have a plan.”

Derek buries his face in the side of Noah’s neck. “I thought—“

“I know,” Noah says quietly. “And I’m sorry for that. Your response time was excellent.”

“What did they want?” Derek asks.

“They want me to kill one of the members of my pack,” Noah replies. “Which I am not going to do.”

Derek pulls back. “What the fuck?”

“I need you to look at some pictures for me when we get back to the station, and then tell me if you recognize anyone,” Noah replies.

Derek nods. “Yeah, okay.” He shakes his head. “They—they want you to kill a member of your pack? That’s what this is all about?”

Noah snorts. “Trust me, Derek. Deucalion isn’t playing with a full deck, and I’m pretty sure the same can be said for the woman. I don’t know about the other three. She’s just wandering around barefoot with claws for toenails.”

“It was weird as fuck,” Tara mutters. “The whole thing was weird.”

Noah concurs with the “weird as fuck” summation, but then, criminals aren’t always terribly rational, and Deucalion is basically a serial killer. His motivations don’t have to make sense for Noah to know that Deucalion is no better than a rabid dog.

And there’s only one thing to do with one of those.

They head back to the station, bringing Derek along with them so they can show him the photos Morrison sent.

Derek follows Noah into his office, and leans over his shoulder as Noah pulls up the grainy pictures. He shakes his head at the picture of Deucalion, the woman, and the twins, but curses bitterly at the one of the big, bald man. “Yeah, I know him.”

“Do you have a name?” Noah asks.

“Ennis,” Derek replies. “That’s the only name I have. He was in Beacon Hills when I was in high school as part of a summit. He was the one who bit my girlfriend at the time, the one who had bite rejection.”

Noah blows out a breath. “I’m sorry, Derek.” A memory pings, something Noah hasn’t recalled until now. “Hang on.”

There had been a murder investigation around that time, and someone who looked a bit like Ennis had tried to claim the body prior to the investigation being wrapped up.

Noah had a confrontation with the man, who’d been angry, and Noah felt the threat of violence, but nothing happened. Noah has had a lot of confrontations over his years in law enforcement, so the moment hadn’t stood out to him, hadn’t even popped up in his memory until now.

But the murder investigation hadn’t gone anywhere, and Noah does remember that. The poor man was tortured before he was cut in half. At the time, when Ennis had tried to claim the body, Noah had attributed his upset to his friend being murdered.

Noah locates the file in the stack of cold murder cases with ease, and flips it open to one of the autopsy photos that just shows the body from the neck on up. “Do you recognize him?”

Derek looks carefully at the picture. “Maybe, I don’t know. Like I’ve told you before, my mom kept me out of a lot of this.”

“Because she thought Laura would be the alpha after her,” Noah says. “I just thought I’d ask. I remember having a confrontation with Ennis at the morgue when he tried to claim the body, but it was just one brief confrontation in the midst of an investigation.”

Derek sits down heavily and tips his head back. “Okay. I remember there was a summit at the time with a meeting of various alphas. It’s one of the reasons I thought it would be a good idea to broach the subject of me being a werewolf with my girlfriend. Peter—Peter convinced me to tell her, and to have an alpha bite her. I knew Mom wouldn’t agree, so he said he’d find one of the other alphas to do it, since there were several in town.”

Noah is very glad that Peter is dead at this point. “And then she suffered bite rejection.”

“And I killed her, yes,” Derek agrees.

“What you did was an act of mercy, Derek,” Noah says gently. “She would have died slowly and painfully otherwise. Did your mom know?”

“She said the same thing,” Derek admits after a long pause. “But—I never trusted it.”

Noah can hear the pain in Derek’s voice, and he says softly, “If Stiles came to me and told me a similar story, I wouldn’t look at him any differently. Your mom loved you, Derek, and I have no doubts about that.”

Derek nods. “You think this whole thing with the alpha pack has to do with something that happened back then?”

“I think it’s likely, but I don’t need to know, really,” Noah says. “I’d like to know, but it’s not necessary because Deucalion needs to be taken down, and probably the rest of the alpha pack as well.”

Derek nods. “All right. I kind of want to take a shower.”

“You want me to give you a ride home?” Noah offers. “Or I can ask one of the deputies to do that if you’d prefer.”

Derek hesitates. “I can find my own way, but can I come back here after?”

“Yeah,” Noah replies. “There are some things you can do around here if you’d like to stay busy.”

Derek’s expression is nakedly grateful. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me for taking care of you, Derek,” Noah replies. “That’s my job.”

Derek just shakes his head. “It bears saying.”

Noah just wants to get everything taken care of, so they maybe have some peace.

~~~~~

Derek can’t describe what it had felt like to sense Noah’s fear through the pack bonds, to feel like he might be losing members of his pack—his Alpha—yet again. Tara had been afraid, but there had been a fierce protectiveness, too.

He doesn’t even remember what happened between the time that he first felt the spike of fear and arriving at the warehouse. He’d been running, and he’d wound up there, operating only on instinct.

But Noah is okay and safe, and Derek is at home, standing under a spray of hot water, trying to convince himself of that fact.

Trying to convince himself that he’s not responsible for this, too—for the alpha pack targeting Noah.

He’s not sure he believes that, though. He can’t help but feel that the choices he made back then are haunting him now.

Derek finishes up his shower and pulls on clean clothing. He finds Noah waiting for him out in the hallway. “I thought I was going to meet you back at the station.”

“I got to thinking about it, and I didn’t want you getting too far up in your own head,” Noah admits. “Because that’s what’s happening right now, isn’t it?”

Derek winces. “I can’t help but think I caused this.”

“Whatever your choices were in the past, you didn’t cause Deucalion to show up and demand that I kill a pack member,” Noah replies dryly. “And nothing that you did as a dumb kid had any affect on what happened today.”

“I got my girlfriend killed,” Derek replies.

Noah shrugs. “Maybe. Or maybe she would have been bitten the way Scott was, and she’d have died that way. We can’t know what might have happened, son. No one can.”

Derek nods, and he’s reminded of his mom’s reaction after Paige’s death, how careful she’d been with him. Noah is just as careful with him now, and he puts an arm around Derek’s shoulders.

“You don’t have to take care of me,” Derek says, although it’s a token protest, because he also leans into Noah.

“You took care of me when Stiles was missing,” Noah reminds him. “And I’ll remind you that you’ve looked after Stiles and the rest of the pack. The fact that you might need some extra reassurance after this morning isn’t surprising.”

Derek takes a deep breath. “No one else seems to have noticed.”

“Stiles did,” Noah replies. “And Tara just texted me to let me know that Scott is hovering around the station, still dressed in scrubs, so he probably left work early.”

“So, he’s finally pulled his head out of his ass,” Derek mutters.

Noah laughs. “He’s working on it anyway. The best thing I can say about Scott is that for as hard as his head is, his heart is just as soft.”

“He has that going for him,” Derek agrees, and he feels a smile pulling at his lips.

Noah squeezes his shoulder. “Come on. We’ll go put Scott out of his misery and grab lunch, maybe some curly fries. I feel like we deserve them.”

“We definitely deserve curly fries,” Derek replies.

Scott is, indeed, haunting the front of the station when they arrive, and Derek is a little surprised to see Scott hug Noah tightly. “I came as soon as I could!” Scott says.

Noah responds by returning the hug and ruffling Scott’s hair. “I’m fine. Did Stiles text you?”

Scott nods against his shoulder. “I came as soon as I could when the group text came through. Stiles said you were okay, but I needed to see for myself..”

“We’re just fine, Scott,” Noah soothes. “Did you leave work early?”

“I told Deaton I promised Stiles I’d make sure you ate a healthy lunch,” Scott confesses. “He’s been—he’s been a little weird about things.”

“We’ll get lunch, and you can tell me all about it,” Noah replies. “But I’m insisting on curly fries.”

Scott nods, and Noah calls out, “Tara! We’re going to the diner. Text me everyone’s orders for lunch! It’s on me.”

There’s a muted cheer, and Tara calls back, “We’ll give you 30 minutes, and then I’ll call the order in.”

They find a corner booth, and they all order cheeseburgers and curly fries. Noah knows that Scott likes milkshakes, so he orders a caramel shake on his behalf.

Their drinks come out first—the shake, a glass of water for Derek, and iced tea for Noah. “All right,” Noah says gently. “What’s going on with you, Scott?”

Scott shrugs, staring down at the table and stirring his straw in his shake desultorily. “It’s nothing specific, but ever since I told Dr. Deaton about the alpha pack, he’s been telling me what a great alpha I would be.”

Derek opens his mouth, but Noah shakes his head, knowing that Scott needs time to get it out.

“And I think I probably will be a good alpha, in about twenty years,” Scott continues, sounding incredibly frustrated. “And that’s what I’ve told him! But he just—he keeps at it. It’s like he thinks I should step up and be an alpha, when I have a perfectly good one. It’s just weird.”

The words tumble out in a rush, and Noah leans forward. “Thank you for telling me that, Scott. It’s never okay for anyone to pressure you into doing something you don’t want to do, or aren’t ready for.”

Scott ducks his head. “It’s just—it’s Dr. Deaton.”

“You think I’ve never made a mistake with Stiles?” Noah asks. “Dr. Deaton is human; he can make a mistake. He can push you before you’re ready. He believes in you.”

Scott shakes his head. “I think it’s more than that.”

“Okay,” Noah says. “I trust your perception. How do you want to deal with it?”

Scott hesitates. “I don’t know. I guess—thanks. For trusting me. And, um, can I let you know?”

“You can trust me to have your back, Scott,” Noah says. “Whatever you need that to look like, okay? It’s not just about me being the Alpha or the sheriff. You know that.”

Scott flushes. “Yeah, I know. Thanks, Noah.”

Scott really never calls Noah by his first name, but Derek can see that Noah is pleased by it. “You’re very welcome.”

Derek is watching closely, taking in how Noah acts as Alpha—strong, confident, but also gentle.

Their waitress comes over. “Sorry to bother you, Sheriff, but I just got a call from Deputy Graeme, and she said you were paying?”

“I am,” Noah replies. “I find that food prevents the natives from becoming restless.”

She winks at them. “Smart man. The food will be ready in fifteen. I’ll put it all on one check?”

“If you would, Denise, that would be great,” Noah replies. “Thank you.”

Scott willingly helps them carry the bags back to the station, and then helps distribute the carry-out containers. “Thanks again, Noah,” Scott says, “but I should probably get back to the clinic.”

Noah claps him on the back. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“I’ll be there,” Scott replies. “I want to meet Stiles’ dog.”

“Come over here, Derek,” Tara calls. “I’ll show you how to run wants and warrants while I’m eating.”

Derek goes over willingly and sits in her chair, following her instructions as Tara eats her club sandwich.

“Okay, you put the name in there,” Tara says between quick bites, “and then hit that button.”

Derek appreciates the opportunity to do actual police work. “How do you know what names to run?”

“Generally, we do these checks when we’ve pulled someone over,” Tara replies. “But if someone has been arrested, we’ll check their backgrounds.”

Derek nods. “And what happens if something comes up?”

“Depends,” Tara replies. “If there are active warrants, it’s a reason to either arrest them or hold them, if what we have on them isn’t sufficient. It might be a chance to just issue an additional ticket.”

“Hey, can I borrow Derek for a minute?” Dave asks. “I need to talk to the sheriff.”

Tara glares at Dave, but then relents with a smile. “Yeah, sure. Go talk to the sheriff.”

Dave whispers to Derek, “I didn’t want to go behind your back.”

“I’ll support your petition to be left hand,” Derek replies. “I wish you’d been with him today.”

Dave shrugs. “I think he wanted to keep me in reserve. If the alpha pack doesn’t know about me, they can’t do anything about me.”

Derek has to acknowledge that’s true, and that Tara had been good backup. “Yeah. I know.”

“But I wish I’d been there, too,” Dave whispers before knocking on the office door.

“Come in!” Noah calls. Dave leads the way inside, and Noah waves them to the seats in front of his desk. “What can I do for you two?”

“Dave should be the left hand of the pack,” Derek blurts out, unable to help himself. “And we need to set a trap for them.”

Noah chuckles. “Well, good to know we’re all on the same page. Dave, are you okay with that? You understand what the role of the left hand is?”

Dave nods. “Yeah, Derek has talked to me about it, and I’m good with it. I fought for Uncle Sam, and I killed the people they told me to kill, but I know you a lot better than I knew most of them.”

Derek knows what he’s saying, that Dave would follow Noah through hell and back.

“All right,” Noah says. “I agree with Derek. You’re my left hand, Dave. I hope you have some experience planning an ambush. I think the two youngest alpha pack members might be salvageable, but the rest of them aren’t.”

Dave grins. “I already have some ideas, sir.”

Derek leans back in his chair, and he feels as though the last pieces are falling into place.

~~~~~

Stiles hangs up the phone and manfully resists the urge to demand that Moira turn around and head back to Beacon Hills. He does, however, send the group text to let the pack know his dad and Tara are okay.

“Good job, mo chroi,” Moira murmurs. “I know this is hard.”

“My dad has more people than just me,” Stiles says. “We all do. That’s a good thing.”

She reaches over and pats his leg. “Exactly right.”

Stiles stares out the window. “But also, change is hard, and it’s like I basically exchanged one worry for another. Before, it was about my dad’s heart health, and now, it’s crazy werewolves who are gunning for him.”

Moira pauses. “Well, it might not be entirely the fault of the crazy werewolf. The Nemeton is damaged, and it’s going to act like a beacon for things like that.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that he has a crazy werewolf after him,” Stiles mutters. “I didn’t even get a chance to ask what the dude wanted, but since Dad and Tara aren’t dead, I’m guessing it’s going to suck.”

“Don’t borrow trouble,” Moira orders. “We don’t know anything yet, and we won’t until we get back. Your dad has an entire station full of people who have no desire to break in a new boss.”

“Fair,” Stiles agrees. “And Tara is a badass.”

Moira shoots him a smile. “Good. Focus on that.”

The drive is almost two hours, to a large piece of property east of San Francisco. They hear dogs baying as soon as they pull into the long, gravel driveway. Moira parks in front of a large, ranch-style house. Jack is already standing in front, next to a couple of men who are tall and broad shouldered.

The men are built like redwoods, both of them well over six feet, both with red hair and beards that flow down their chests.

“Hi, Stiles,” Jack calls. “Nice to see you again, Moira.”

“It’s good to see you, too,” Moira replies.

“Stiles, I’d like you to meet the Bartling brothers: Joel and Donnie,” Jack says, as the two men shake his hand in turns. “Joel handles most of the training, and Donnie does public relations.”

Joel smiles. “We have three dogs for you to choose between. If none of them suit, we’ll have another batch in about six weeks.”

Stiles is a little surprised. “I didn’t realize I’d get a choice.”

“You and the dogs,” Joel jokes. “All three have been socialized around a variety of supernatural elements, including werewolves and magic, and all three are very good under fire.”

Stiles nods. “That sounds great. But what if none of them like me?”

“Jack has shared what you told him he could,” Joel replies. “And I have a good track record in setting people up with the right service animals.

“Yeah, okay,” Stiles says. “Fingers and toes crossed, I guess.”

“Come this way,” Joel replies.

Stiles follows the man, Jack and Moira trailing them. There’s a large, fenced-in pen with three dogs chasing each other around playfully. To Stiles’ untrained eye, it looks like all three are shepherd mixes of some sort.

Joel lets Stiles into the pen, and waves at the others to stay outside. “Let’s limit distractions.” He whistles sharply, and all three dogs trot towards them. At a sharp gesture, they sit obediently. “Good boys. This is Stiles. Stiles is a friend.”

He turns to Stiles. “Just kneel down and let them sniff you.”

Stiles plops down on the grass, and all three come over politely, taking turns at sniffing him. Once all of them have had a turn, Stiles is mobbed. One of them noses the back of his neck, another shoves his way under his right arm, and the third licks his chin.

Apparently, Stiles doesn’t have to worry about them not liking him. “Hey, hey,” Stiles says. “Okay, nice to meet you, everyone sit!”

All three sit in front of him. “How am I supposed to choose between you three?”

They all sit up taller, as though saying, “Pick me!”

Stiles sends a panicked look at Joel. “That was a serious question.”

Joel laughs. “Well, first chemistry test is good. Let’s try them out on orders. We tend to name litters based on a theme. You’ve got Batman, Flash, and Arrow.”

Stiles grins, absolutely delighted. “You named them after Justice League members?”

“I did,” Joel agrees. “The two girls from the same litter are Vixen and Zatanna, but they both got adopted last week.”

Stiles clambers to his feet. “Okay, I’m game.”

He follows Joel’s directions and tries each of them out on orders. In spite of his comic book counterpart, Batman is by far the goofiest of the three, and he’s also the quickest to follow Stiles’ directions. When Arrow gets a little too enthusiastic, Batman barks at him sharply, as though telling him to get his shit together.

Flash is the quickest physically, but he loses interest in Stiles after a while, going over to lie next to Joel’s feet.

In the end, there’s a clear favorite, and Stiles says, “Okay, guys, I’ve made my decision, but let’s have a group hug first.”

All three dogs seem to understand, because they mob him again. Stiles would honestly take all three home with him if he could, because they’re awesome, but he allows Joel to call Flash and Arrow out to the kennels, leaving Stiles with Batman.

Batman licks his chin, as though to comfort Stiles.

Moira enters the pen and says, “Can you grow a flower? Let’s see how he responds.”

“I already made my choice, though,” Stiles replies. He does put a hand out, though, and calls up a dandelion, and Batman hunkers down. He’s mostly black, with white eyebrows and a splash of white on his muzzle, and he sniffs at the dandelion as it appears.

When it fully blooms, Batman raises his head to look at Stiles, as if to ask, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Stiles shrugs. “You’ll get used to it, dude.” Batman bellies over and rests his chin on Stiles’ knee, and Stiles strokes his pointed ears. “You okay with this?”

Batman whuffs, and Stiles can’t help but kiss the top of his head.

“I’m glad to see you two bonding,” Joel says as he enters the pen. “I thought Batman might be the one for you.”

“He’s great,” Stiles replies.

“Let’s talk about how you guys are going to work together,” Joel says. “On your feet.”

Joel walks them both through commands, how to discourage people from interfering with Batman while he’s working, and what Stiles’ rights are as someone with a service animal.

“When he’s wearing a vest, he’s at work,” Joel says. “People shouldn’t pet him or talk to him, and that includes your pack members. When the vest is off, he’s not working, and he knows that.”

Stiles nods. “Got it. Should I have people refer to him with a different name while he’s working?”

Joel laughs. “Yeah, I’ve had good results with that technique in the past.”

“So, he’s Bruce while he’s working, and he’s Batman the rest of the time,” Stiles says easily. “That work for you, Batman?”

Batman whuffs.

Joel claps him on the back. “Good. You guys are going to do well together, I can tell.”

“Thanks a lot,” Stiles replies. “I already feel better.”

Batman shoves his nose into Stiles’ hand, and Stiles scratches the top of his head.

Jack joins them and says, “Let’s go for a walk, Stiles. Donnie said he’d put lunch together for us, but he needs a little time.”

“It will give you and Batman some extra time to get acclimated,” Joel agrees, handing Stiles a harness, vest, and leash. “And Moira said you’d had some excitement on the way here.”

“You could say that,” Stiles replies as he figures out how to put on the harness and vest, then clipped on the leash. He can tell that Batman knows it’s time to work, because he immediately heels and sits, looking up at Stiles. “Good boy.”

Batman’s tail wags at the praise, and Stiles says, “Let’s walk.”

He leads Batman out of the pen, following Jack. “We’ve talked a lot about managing your anxiety,” Jack says as they begin to stroll around the property.

Stiles takes a deep breath. “Hence the dog.”

“That’s part of it,” Jack replies. “But having a dog is not a substitute for therapy or other therapeutic techniques.”

“I know that,” Stiles says. “I do.”

“Good.” Jack has his hands shoved in his pockets, and he glances over at Stiles. “So, talk to me about what happened earlier today.”

Stiles shrugs. “The pack bond between me and my dad is pretty strong. I think a lot of that is because I created that bond, whereas most of the others were bitten by my dad. I still feel them, but not as strongly.”

Jack nods. “I remember you telling me that.”

“So, I just felt this huge burst of fear from Dad this morning, and I didn’t want to call because it might distract him and make things worse,” Stiles continues. “I waited, and then his mood changed from afraid to really pissed off, and then really, really fucking pissed off, and then just annoyed. That’s when I called, and he’d been confronted by the alpha pack.”

“And you didn’t insist that Moira turn the car around immediately?” Jack asks.

Batman noses Stiles’ palm and whines, grounding him. This is why Stiles has a service dog, to hopefully avert panic attacks. Stiles strokes the top of his head and says, “What good would that have done? We had this appointment, and I couldn’t do anything. But I could prioritize my mental health and pick up my service dog.”

“That’s a very healthy attitude, Stiles,” Jack says approvingly. “Good job.”

Stiles just scratches Batman’s ears. “Yeah. Well. You keep telling me that I can’t set myself on fire to keep others warm, and I have to make sure I have the spoons to deal with the things I need to deal with.”

“I’m glad you’re listening to me,” Jack says wryly. “What do you think has helped the most with being able to respond as you did?”

“The judo lessons,” Stiles admits. “I’m learning how to roll with the punches, you know? Pretty much literally.”

“I wanted to talk to you about that, Stiles,” Jack says. “I’m glad that judo lessons have been good for you, and I’m glad that you’ve decided to take more AP classes. But you’ve given up lacrosse to do it, and I can’t help but ask why.”

Batman rests heavily on Stiles’ leg as Stiles tries to calm down. Being seen so completely doesn’t give him a lot of places to hide, and it forces his honesty. He’s glad for it in one sense; therapy wouldn’t do him much good otherwise. In another sense, Stiles would prefer to deflect forever.

“You mean, it seems like I’m making choices not for myself, but for the good of the pack,” Stiles says flatly.

“Yes, that’s what I mean,” Jack replies. “And because many members of your pack are involved in lacrosse, it seems like you might be keeping yourself slightly apart.”

Stiles frowns. “Maybe I am. What’s wrong with that?”

“I’m not sure there is anything wrong with it,” Jack replies. “But I’d like you to try to articulate your feelings about giving up lacrosse. It’s a good therapeutic exercise.”

Stiles blows out a breath. “I don’t know.”

Jack just waits silently, and he doesn’t evidence surprise when Stiles sits down, puts his arms around Batman’s neck, and buries his face in his smooth coat. “You think I’m doing these things because I’m preparing myself for war.”

“Aren’t you?” Jack asks.

Stiles doesn’t look up. “Yes.”

“You’ve deliberately cut out the one thing that doesn’t prepare you for the future, that might just be fun,” Jack points out, squatting down. “Something that you share with three of your pack mates.”

Stiles looks up. “Yes, I did. I had to.”

“Can you speak to that?”

“I’m not good at lacrosse, which was mostly fine before Scott was bitten,” Stiles points out. “This year, I would be on a team with three werewolves. They’ll be first line, and I’ll be riding the bench, even with Jackson gone. And I’ll be on the team with three werewolves. They’ve already demonstrated that they tend to forget I’m a squishy human on the field.”

“Are you still angry?” Jack asks.

Stiles snorts. “No, of course not. They were being idiots, and I got hurt, you know? Someday, I’ll probably be an idiot, although I hope not too much of one, and then someone else will get hurt.”

“That’s a mature response,” Jack says.

“I’m not taking my toys and going home,” Stiles insists. “I just—refuse to do something that that has no meaning to me. I was doing it for Scott anyway, at least mostly. I never really thought I’d be first line.”

Jack hums. “Are you rejecting lacrosse because you’re refusing to be defined by Scott?”

Stiles blinks, because he hasn’t even considered that. “Maybe,” he says slowly. “Maybe I am.”

“How do you feel about that?” Jack asks. “About that notion?”

Stiles keeps his arms around Batman. “I feel like maybe, when it came time to figure out my own identity, I figured out that pack was going to be central. And how Scott feels about that is less important to me than the choices I’ve made.”

“Because of your dad?” Jack asks.

Stiles thinks about it, and then he shakes his head. “No. Well, partly. I think I always knew—from the time I realized that the supernatural exists—that I would be a part of it. Maybe there was some small part of me that always knew what I could be.”

“And what will you be, Stiles?” Jack asks.

Stiles smiles. “I’m going to be the emissary of the Hale pack.”

“Isn’t it the Stilinski pack now?” Jack presses.

Stiles shakes his head. “No, I’m pretty sure even my dad would agree that he’s holding the pack for Derek. It might be decades from now, but Derek will be the Alpha of the Hale pack eventually, and it will return to the Hale line. And I’ll still be the emissary.”

“What is your relationship to Derek, Stiles?” Jack asks.

Stiles closes his eyes and rests his forehead against Batman’s. “Right now, he’s just a very good friend, and that’s what he’ll remain until after I’m 18.”

“The part about you being 18 makes sense, especially given the little I know about his past, but you could express your own interest first,” Jack says.

Stiles shakes his head firmly. “No. I know that much. It can’t come from me. Maybe I can give him a few hints, but that’s it. Someone came onto him at a coffeeshop a while back, and he was—repulsed. I think Derek needs to be the instigator.”

“I believe you, and I think it’s wise of you to realize that,” Jack says. “You’re not going to do anything ridiculous like waiting for him, are you?”

Stiles laughs. “I’m not aiming to be a vestal virgin. And who knows? Maybe it’s just a crush, and ten years from now I’ll laugh about it, and he’ll laugh at teenage idiot me. Maybe I’ll meet a nice boy or girl, and I’ll fall in love, and none of this will matter. But if that happens, I hope that Derek can find a nice boy or girl, too. He deserves to be happy, and I really don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“That’s fair, Stiles,” Jack says gently. “Thank you for being so honest with me. Now, tell me, does having Batman with you help?”

Batman rests his heavy head against Stiles’ shoulder, and Stiles says, “So, so much.”

A voice calls, “Hey! Lunch is ready!”

“I guess I’m saved by lunch,” Stiles says.

Jack gives him a look. “This was a good session, Stiles. I think we’ve done good work today, and I’m proud of the strides that you’re making.”

Stiles knows that Jack is speaking as his psychiatrist, and only in that limited sense, but he’s glad to hear it. He feels tired and wrung out, and he suspects that he’ll nap most of the way back to Beacon Hills with Batman in the backseat.

“Thanks,” he says.

~~~~~

Noah wants to be home when Stiles arrives with the new addition, and apparently everyone else in the pack has the same idea. Scott is the first to turn up, still in his scrubs from the clinic. “When is Stiles going to be back?” he asks, a couple of grocery bags in hand.

He checks his watch. “Probably another hour and change. What’s up?”

Scott offers a hopeful smile. “Pack dinner? I thought I’d make tacos. It’s one of the few things I can make. Mom has to work tonight, but she sent guacamole.”

“That sounds great, Scott,” Noah replies. “Thank you for being so thoughtful.”

Scott ducks his head with a grin. “I figure Stiles can’t always do the cooking, and Mom says it’s a useful skill.”

“It is a useful skill,” Noah agrees. “I wish I were better at it. Let me know how I can help.”

“Erica and Boyd should be here soon,” Scott says cheerfully. “They both had shifts, but made sure they’d be here for dinner.”

“And Isaac?” Noah asks.

“He works until 7, but will be here right after,” Scott says.

Noah is happy that all of the kids are so industrious, although he plans on keeping an eye on that during the school year. Granted, Boyd, Isaac, and Scott will be playing lacrosse, and that will require them to keep their grades up in order to remain eligible to play.

“Okay, good,” Noah replies. “Derek, Dave, Tara, and Paul will be here soon as well. Derek opted to stay at the station a little longer.”

Scott nods. “Let’s hope I got enough hamburger.”

Boyd and Erica are the next to arrive, and they both immediately start to pitch in, Erica shredding cheese, and Boyd cutting up lettuce and tomato.

“Oh, my god, today was the literal worst,” Erica is saying. “That stupid cartoon movie is bringing in all the kids, and one of them tossed their cookies in the lobby. That started a chain reaction.”

Boyd and Scott groan. “Come on, Erica. That’s gross. We’re handling food,” Scott whines.

“It was gross!” Erica says. “I need to share my pain. Scott, you’ve talked about poop way too often to complain now.”

“She has a point,” Boyd agrees.

“You’re just saying that because she’s your girlfriend,” Scott protests, stirring the hamburger.

“No, I’m saying that because she has a point,” Boyd replies equably.

Erica catches sight of Noah in the doorway. He put his gun away and changed into street clothes, because now that he knows exactly who’s killing people, all that’s left to do is plan an ambush and take care of the problem.

What Noah really wants is a night at home with his pack; everyone has been so busy this summer that there haven’t been a lot of nights like this one.

Stiles walks inside, followed closely by Moira. The dog at his side has medium-length black fur with white eyebrows and white around his muzzle, giving him an inquisitive air. The dog is wearing a harness and service vest, and as everyone starts pushing towards the front door, Stiles holds up a hand.

“As long as he’s in the vest, he’s working, so it’s best not to crowd me or him,” Stiles says. “Batman, sit. These are friends.”

The dog sits, and his nose goes up, clearly scenting the air. He whuffs.

“Good boy,” Stiles says. “We’re home.”

Stiles removes the leash, vest, and harness, and Batman gives a full-body shake, then starts dancing around, clearly excited about meeting new people.

“We’re good,” Stiles says. “He knows he’s off-duty now, so you can pet him, but when the vest is on, that’s a no-go.”

“And his name is Batman?” Erica gushes. “How perfect is that?” She kneels down, and Batman allows her to stroke his ears. “Who’s a good boy? Are you the best boy?”

Stiles grins at her. The rest of them take their turns, with Noah going last. Batman immediately flops over for a belly rub, whining slightly in his throat.

“I think he knows you’re the Alpha, Dad,” Stiles says.

Noah obliges with a belly rub. “You’re going to take care of my kid, aren’t you?”

There’s another whine, another whuff, and then Batman gets to his feet and starts licking Noah’s face.

Stiles glances up. “So, are we going to talk about what happened?”

“Just as soon as everyone is here, and we’ve eaten,” Noah promises. “We’re going to discuss this as a pack, and come up with a plan together.”

Stiles’ eyebrows go straight up. “You mean, we get to be involved?”

“Maybe not in the actual ambush itself, but in deciding how we’re going to do it?” Noah asks. “Yes. I want everyone to understand what we’re facing.”

Noah thinks if he’d managed to impress upon Scott just how serious this whole thing was, he might not have responded to the text that fake-Allison sent.

He wants buy-in, and he wants them to understand just how important it is that they avoid everyone in the alpha pack.

Stiles nods. “Okay. That sounds good.”

Derek and his deputies arrive next, and they all greet Batman, who is completely unfazed by any of the werewolves. The dog is a little more interested in Paul, probably because of the unfamiliar scent of were-coyote, Still, Batman just takes an extra few sniffs and then accepts the pets offered.

“Who are we missing?” Derek asks.

“Isaac will be here soon,” Noah replies. “He works until 7 today.”

Derek rolls up his sleeves. “Who’s cooking?”

“Scott’s making tacos,” Erica says. “We’ve been helping.”

Derek loops an arm around her shoulders. “Good. He probably needs all the help he can get, so I should get in there.”

“Rude!” Scott protests on a laugh, and they head into the kitchen.

Noah does what he’s been wanting to do all day and pulls Stiles in for a hug. Stiles clings right back. “I’m really proud of you, kiddo,” Noah murmurs. “I know you wanted to turn right around.”

“I really did,” Stiles admits. “But I knew it wasn’t the right thing to do for me.”

“Really proud,” Noah repeats. “Was Jack there?”

“Yeah, and we had a mini-session,” Stiles admits. “He’s also proud of me for how I handled myself today. We can talk about the rest of it later.”

Noah ruffles Stiles’ longer hair, and he kind of misses the buzz cut. “You’ve got it.”

They hold dinner until Isaac arrives, just after seven. Isaac greats Batman with the same enthusiasm everyone else has, and then they start constructing their tacos. Scott brought chips, salsa, and has warmed up a couple jars of queso, so there seems to be enough food.

And, by the time they finish, there are only crumbs left.

“That was great, Scott,” Stiles says. “Good job, dude.”

They seem to be moving into a new normal. “Thanks,” Scott replies with a grin.

Many hands make light work, and the kitchen is soon clean, everything put away, and they repair to the living room.

There aren’t enough seats for everyone, but the kids take up spots on the floor, leaving the couch and recliners for the adults.

“This is a pack meeting,” Noah says. “What’s said in a pack meeting?”

“Stays in a pack meeting,” the kids echo back.

“Good,” Noah says, and then begins to describe the events of the morning. He makes sure to emphasize the fact that they’d been lured to the warehouse, and passed out pictures of the alphas. “Deucalion and the two adults should be avoided at all costs. If the two younger members approach, I want to know about it. SOS to the pack immediately.”

Erica studies the picture. “You think they’ll try to approach one of us?”

“I think they may try to force my hand,” Noah admits. “That means I need all of you to exercise caution. I know you’re all busy, and we’re not going to let this fester, but everyone needs to take care.”

They all nod, and Dave says, “And I’ll just remind you, once again, that I was a sniper in the Army.”

“Oh, I haven’t forgotten,” Noah says dryly. “And we’re going to use your skills, which means we need to set up a trap.”

Moira raises her hand. “Stiles and I were discussing this, and I believe I have a way to lure them out with minimal risk to the rest of the pack.”

“I’m all ears,” Noah replies dryly.

Moira smiles. “Deucalion will have realized that you have an established pack by now, far more than what he originally assumed. That means, he’ll suspect that you have an emissary.”

“And you’re our emissary,” Noah says.

Moira nods. “For the moment, yes. I can also claim to have used sympathetic magic in order to find him.”

Noah rubs his eyes. “Do we wait?”

“Until after the next body drops?” Tara asks.

Noah nods unhappily. “We know it’s going to happen.”

“But we don’t know when,” Tara points out. “You were pretty firm with him today. He might suspect a trap if we don’t wait.”

“He’s unlikely to expect a sniper, though,” Dave inserts. “And I’ll bet the Sheriff can make a good show of reconsidering.”

“I’m sure I could, and maybe we’ll go that route, but it’s going to be dependent on how quickly we can locate them,” Noah says. “Versus how quickly Deucalion murders his next victim.”

Moira leans forward. “Or, we can put some pressure on them. We know the town they’ve been staying in. If we reveal that we know that information, we might be able to force their hands.”

“I’m open to suggestions,” Noah says.

Stiles and Moira begin to outline the plan they’d apparently cooked up between them on the way back to town.

In the end, with some refinement, Noah declares it to be solid, and Dave agrees that it’s something he can work with. “I can set up a sniper’s nest,” Dave says. “It’s a definite kill shot for Deucalion and the two adults then?”

Noah nods. “Let’s see how the other two respond when we take them out. They’re young enough, I’m hoping they just leave the territory when they realize there’s nothing left for them here.”

“I’ll go tomorrow,” Moira says. “I should be able to track them down. If you’ll call Sheriff Morrison first thing and let her know I’m coming, I’ll liaise with her and track them down, then set our trap.”

Noah thinks it’s a good plan, and he agrees to it. “But tonight is for pack. We’re going to put on a movie and just hang out. What’s the curfew for everyone?”

Scott doesn’t have a curfew that night, since Melissa is working; Boyd and Isaac are emancipated. Erica says, “I’ll call my parents and clear a sleepover. It would really help if you introduced a few other girls, Sheriff.”

“I’ll take that under consideration,” Noah replies, amused, but also knowing that she’s right.

They do need to bring in more women, but Noah isn’t sure how to do that just yet, and isn’t interested in doing it until after the alpha pack is taken care of.

Erica gives him a cheeky grin. “Just putting a bee in your bonnet, Sheriff.”

“Go call your parents,” Noah orders. He actually likes Erica’s sass, but he knows that if he gives her an inch, she’ll take ten miles. “And let them know that I’m here all night to chaperone.”

She grins and pulls out her cell phone.

Noah is grateful to have the kids all under his own roof, just because he knows they’re safe that way.

Stiles is tapping away on his phone, and he says, “Danny has been warned, and I sent pictures. He says he’ll curse any of them he comes across.”

“Tell him that he’s invited to the next pack dinner, him and his family,” Noah replies.

Stiles is clearly passing along the message. “He says they’ll bring the chicken.”

“I hope he checked with his mom before making that promise,” Moira says dryly. “All right, my lovelies, I’m for bed since I have to be up early tomorrow.” She kisses Stiles on the cheek, and then drops a kiss on the top of Batman’s head.

All of the kids get up to give her a hug and a kiss, and Noah knows that Moira’s maternal energy brings a much-needed balance to the pack.

“I’ll give Sheriff Morrison a call,” Noah promises. “Thank you, Moira.”

“I’m happy to help,” Moira replies. “You lot stay out of trouble.”

Noah’s deputies leave with her, but everyone else—including Erica, who has secured permission from her parents—changes into sleep clothes. Noah is used to the kids bedding down in the living room when they have these sleepovers, pulling out foam mattresses, blankets, and pillows.

Batman makes himself at home between Stiles and Scott, alternating between licking their faces.

Noah is watching as Scott nudges Stiles, and Stiles glances over and smiles. The last remaining tension seems to drain out of everyone.

For his part, Noah knows that Scott is making strides, focusing on the pack, intent on doing the right thing for them as a whole. He’s always known that Scott would get there eventually. It’s just taking him a little longer than the rest.

Noah heads to his office to give Sheriff Morrison a call as a heads up, and then he heads to bed, knowing that he’ll need plenty of sleep for the following day.

In spite of everything, Noah sleeps well, but that’s no surprise. Knowing that Derek is just down the hall, and the kids are downstairs always helps him sleep better.

The next morning, Noah is up with the sun, wanting to be sure that all their ducks are in a row. Stiles is awake and dressed, sipping from a cup of coffee. “Pot’s full,” he says.

“How are you doing?” Noah asks, pausing to ruffle Stiles’ hair and pat the dog on the head.

Stiles shrugs. “I had a hard time sleeping. I just kept thinking about—well. About today.”

“It might not be today, kiddo,” Noah warns him. “I have faith in Moira, but realistically, it could take a lot longer to get this done. I don’t want you exhausting yourself.”

“I know,” Stiles replies. “But tell that to my brain.”

Noah fills his travel mug, and then he pulls Stiles into a tight hug. “Be quiet, Stiles’ brain.”

Stiles turns his face into Noah’s shoulder. “Be careful, Dad.”

“Always,” Noah promises. “I need everyone to stick to the buddy system today, okay?”

Stiles nods. “Derek and I will make sure of it.”

He’s at the station before the day shift starts, and he already has a message from Sheriff. “I’ll give Moira all due consideration,” she says. “And I appreciate that you’re taking care of this problem, Noah, because it is a problem. The local alpha has expressed interest in meeting you at some point once this is all over. Let me know if you’d be amenable.”

Noah frowns and drums his fingers on the top of the desk, but he figures making contact with other packs might help him figure out how to create a sanctuary town.

His next call is to Agent Marsh, and he’s a little surprised when the man picks up on the first ring. “Marsh, here.”

“Agent Marsh, it’s Noah Stilinski,” he says. “We think we might have a resolution to the situation in the next couple of days. I just wanted to give you a heads up.”

“Really?” Marsh asks. “You’ve been able to identify them?”

“Yeah, and they were here some years ago,” Noah replies. “I don’t know the full details, but it involves a cold case that I think the Argents were involved with.”

He can hear Marsh’s sharp intake of breath. “Do you have any proof?”

“Other than the fact that the victim was murdered and one of the members of the alpha pack tried to claim the body?” Noah asks. “No. Knowing what I know now, I believe the victim was a werewolf, probably one of the betas in Ennis’ pack.”

“So, the hunters tortured him to death, and that started this whole thing off?” Marsh asks.

“That’s the going theory,” Noah admits. “But we may never know the full truth. Based on what Derek’s told me, everyone who knows the truth of what happened is either dead, or unlikely to talk.”

“Or about to be dead?” Marsh asks.

“You know, I don’t think that’s something I want to get into,” Noah says pleasantly.

Marsh chuckles. “Fair enough. I wish I could be of more help.”

“We’ll get it handled,” Noah says. “That’s the important thing.”

“I’d be in your debt if you did handle it,” Marsh admits. “Those of us in the know are very much aware of the problem, but our hands are tied.”

“Mine aren’t,” Noah says simply.

“And I’m glad for that,” Marsh replies. “Good luck, I mean it.”

“Thanks,” Noah replies. “I’ll let you know how it turns out.”

“You do that, Sheriff,” Marsh replies.

Noah takes a deep breath, and hangs up. Right now, he has paperwork to do, while he waits for Moira’s call.

~~~~~

Moira may have extracted a promise for Stiles to stay out of things, but Stiles extracted a promise of his own. If he sits his ass at home and allows the adults to handle this part of the plan, Stiles can use the scrying bowl to spy on Moira.

Stiles fills the bowl with water and brings it out to the living room. Derek is back from his run, and he eyes Stiles suspiciously. “Should you have that?”

“Moira left it for me,” Stiles replies. “I sit my ass at home and let the adults handle things, but I also get to see what’s happening.”

Derek blinks. “Wait, Moira gave you permission to spy on her?”

“Pretty much,” Stiles says cheerfully.

“Where’s everyone else?” Derek asks.

“Donut run,” Stiles says. “Everyone decided to call in today to be on the safe side.”

“They know about the bowl?” Derek asks.

Stiles glances up at him, and has to tamp down any desire he has. He knows that Derek gets uncomfortable with that sort of attention. But a sweaty Derek whose t-shirt is sticking to his skin?

Stiles is only human, after all.

“Yeah, of course,” Stiles replies. “They need a reason to sit their asses at home, too.”

Derek snorts. “I’m going to grab a shower. I’ll be down soon.”

“I told them to get you a maple bacon donut!” Stiles calls after him.

Derek throws a grin over his shoulder. “Thanks.”

“I need to get a girlfriend or a boyfriend,” Stiles mutters under his breath.

Like he has time.

Stiles has been working with Moira over the summer to scry. His favorite method is still using the rune stones, but the scrying bowl is becoming easier to work with under Moira’s tutelage.

He clears his mind and focuses on the water, barely hearing when Derek comes downstairs, or when the others return, Scott using Stiles’ key.

“Anything yet?” Scott whispers to Derek, just as the picture begins to swim into focus.

“Shh,” Stiles says. “I’ve almost got it.”

Silence falls, and Stiles grins as he sees Moira walking into a sheriff’s station. “Looks like Moira is meeting with Sheriff Morrison.”

He’s honestly just pleased that it’s working, and all by himself, too. It’s the first time he’s tried outside of Moira’s presence.

“Here,” Scott says, and shoves a butterscotch Long John into Stiles’ hand.

“Thanks, man,” Stiles murmurs and shoves it into this mouth, since there isn’t much to report.

“Can you hear anything?” Isaac asks curiously.

Stiles shakes his head. “No, unfortunately. I’ll probably just narrate a la Seth Green from The Italian Job.”

Erica and Scott snicker, Isaac barks a laugh, and Boyd cracks a smile. “What does that mean?” Derek asks.

“Oh, we’re watching that tonight, my dude,” Stiles says without looking up from the bowl. “It’s a movie, and I can’t believe you haven’t seen it. It’s great. Looks like Moira is being her usual charming self with Sheriff Morrison.”

“I love Moira,” Erica sighs. “I wish she was my grandma.”

“I think she’s kind of all our grandma,” Stiles says absently. “But I recommend not saying that to her face.”

“She might get a little annoyed,” Boyd agrees. “I don’t think she’s that much older than the sheriff.”

“But she brings the grandma energy!” Erica protests. “And I mean that in the best possible way.”

“Then maybe put it that way,” Scott advises. “Rather than making it sound like she’s old enough to be our grandma.”

“She would make a good one, though,” Isaac says wistfully. “I really like the blanket she made me.”

Boyd gives him a side eye. “Stop rubbing it in.”

“Come on, she’s working on yours!” Isaac says.

“You were rubbing it in just a little bit,” Scott comments.

“Hang on, looks like Moira has tracked down our fuckers,” Stiles says, although he does enjoy the banter between the pack members.

“Language!” Erica, Boyd, Scott, and Isaac say in unison.

Stiles casually flips them off. “Okay, hang on.” He focuses and tries to dial in on the GPS unit. To his surprise, he can zoom in, and he calls out an address. “Someone look that up.”

Derek hunches over his phone and starts tapping in the address. “An apartment complex, and a high end one—at least for this area of California.”

“I wonder what other properties they have,” Erica muses. “My mom likes to say that you don’t shit where you eat. So they’re probably killing people somewhere else.”

“Smart,” Stiles says. “Okay, Moira is on the elevator up.”

Everyone leans forward, and Stiles wonders if he could make the bowl project like a pensieve from Harry Potter. He doesn’t want to pull people in, but if everyone could see what he sees…

The picture blooms over the top of the bowl, and Scott says, “Whoa, dude. Did you do that?”

“I wasn’t sure I could,” Stiles replies, very surprised.

“Clearly, you can,” Boyd says. “It’s really cool.”

They watch as Moira rides the elevator up to the top floor, and goes to one of two apartment doors. She doesn’t bother knocking, and Stiles suddenly realizes that she hadn’t needed to be buzzed in.

And then she waves her hand over the deadbolt, and the door swings open.

“I aspire to be that much of a badass,” Erica comments.

“Me, too,” Derek comments.

Moira strides into the apartment like she owns the place, startling the two youngest pack members, who had been lounging on the couch. They leap to their feet, mouths moving, and Stiles fills it in, giving them high, squeaky voices. “Who are you? Why are you here?”

Isaac snickers.

Moira’s mouth starts moving, and Erica jumps in. “Take me to your leader.”

They all laugh, and then Deucalion appears, and Isaac joins in. “Oh, look at me. I’m so special and important that I can tell other packs what to do.”

It’s a serious situation, but they all start laughing, even Derek. Of course, Kali comes in behind Moira, and Isaac shouts, “Behind you!”

Scott elbows him. “She can’t hear you.”

“You don’t need to worry,” Stiles says confidently. “Just watch.”

Kali freezes just behind Moira, her fist lifted, and it’s obvious that she can’t move.”

“Oh, you think your werewolf bitch could touch me?” Erica crows. “Go, Moira!”

Scott leans forward. “What do you think she’s saying?”

“She’s probably telling him that she plans to curse the shit out of him unto the tenth generation,” Stiles says. “I know I would.”

“Aren’t you already planning to do that, dude?” Scott asks with a grin.

“If Dave doesn’t manage to snipe him, sure,” Stiles replies. “A bullet to the head is probably too good for him.”

He knows he sounds bloodthirsty, but goddammit, Deucalion had asked his dad to do the thing that would hurt him most, in order to avoid more innocent deaths.

“True that,” Boyd says. “He wanted one of us dead. He can get fucked.”

Deucalion snarls at whatever Moira says, but she just smirks and speaks again.

“She’s threatening him again, pushing him to come find my dad,” Stiles says. “That’s the play here.”

Deucalion approaches, pointing his finger at her, and she just smirks at him in a way that Stiles knows is meant to be incredibly insulting. “Now, she’s probably speculating on the size of his dick.”

“Well, he’s probably compensating for something,” Erica comments.

“You don’t think it’s the loss of his eyesight?” Derek asks.

Stiles shrugs. “Why not both?”

“Fair,” Derek says.

Deucalion takes another step towards Moira, and she holds up a warning hand, then says something else that seems to rock him back a step. Moira flicks her hand, and Kali scrambles out of the way as Moira turns to leave.

Stiles really has no idea what Moira had said or done, but it looks like she’s managed to provoke the hoped-for confrontation. Stiles keeps the projection going until he’s certain that Moira is safe in her car and heading out of town.

As soon as the image fades, Stiles’ cell phone rings, and he recognizes Moira’s number. “Were you able to see?” she asks.

“See, but not hear,” Stiles admits. “We inserted our own narration.”

She laughs. “I’d have loved to hear it. But I believe our plan worked, which means I want you kids to stay put, okay?”

Stiles expects that. “Derek, too?”

“Derek, too,” Moira insists. “Deucalion knows the pack structure. It’s one of the reasons he’s stayed on the periphery, and why it took him so long to confront Noah directly. He’ll know that Derek is the right hand, or at least very important to him.”

“What did you say to get his pack to the location Dave set up?” Stiles asks.

“I told him that I would curse him and his pack if he didn’t meet with Noah to negotiate a truce, and then I demonstrated that curse on Kali,” Moira replies. “To demonstrate the precariousness of their position.”

She and Stiles have talked about curses and hexes in the past, and how it’s generally not good for a person’s karma. They can be used in defense of others, or against those who threaten harm, but never lightly.

Moira insists that they wait to explore curses and hexes until Stiles is much further along in his studies, and Stiles agreed. He doesn’t want to risk accidentally cursing someone—and he might.

Stiles thinks he’d probably be pretty damn good at it, and he doesn’t want that karma.

“When is it going down and where?” Stiles asks.

“Stiles,” Moira begins in a warning voice.

“I’m asking so I know where to send the troops if it goes too long,” Stiles replies. “Contingency planning.”

“All right,” Moira relents. “We’re meeting at seven at the old distillery. I anticipate that we’ll be home by eight, but give it at least until nine.”

“Got it,” Stiles replies. “We’ll order pizza or something.”

“Thank you, Stiles,” Moira replies. “Just be on your guard. They might still try to get at Noah through you.”

Stiles takes a deep breath. “Yeah, I get it. I know where Dad keeps his spare weapon, and I have the wolfsbane bullets, too.”

Moira had helped him obtain those when it became apparent that the alpha pack would be a problem. “I know you do,” Moira replies. “Do what you have to do in order to protect yourself.”

She hangs up, and Erica demands, “Did she say what happened?”

“They’re meeting at the old distillery at seven,” Stiles says. “She wants us all to stick together and stay inside.”

“What did she say?” Isaac asks.

“She cursed Kali, but I didn’t get the blow-by-blow,” Stiles replies. “She threatened the whole pack to get them to show up.”

“Now what?” Erica asks. “We just hang out until we hear otherwise?”

Stiles takes a deep breath. “Yeah. That’s what we do. Gotta let my dad and his people do their jobs.”

He’s not exactly excited by the idea, but at the same time, there’s relief, too. Stiles had helped come up with this plan, but he doesn’t have to carry it out. They can just stay safe at home.

“This is so weird,” Derek mutters.

“Okay, first we watch The Italian Job and then we play video games,” Scott says. “Mario Kart tournament, winner gets to pick the pizza toppings.”

Stiles grins. Scott will eat just about anything, so it’s a low stakes wager for him, but not for the pickier eaters in the group.

“You’re on,” Erica says with narrowed eyes.

So, they’re going to be distracting themselves. Stiles can use the scrying bowl again when it’s time to peek in.

~~~~~

Noah knows immediately when Moira walks into the station, and the rest of the deputies do, too. All of his deputies know that something big is about to go down, and other than the ones Noah has sent out on patrol, the rest of the shift is sticking close.

He comes out to meet her, and then escorts her back to his office, calling, “Tara, Paul, Dave, come join us.”

Noah sits on the edge of the desk, waiting for everyone to settle. “Did you already call Stiles?”

“He promised that they’re going to stay at home today, with the rest of the kids and Derek,” Moira replies. “The meeting is at seven at the old distillery, as we discussed. If we’re not back by nine, they’ll probably come to find us.”

Noah nods. “It should all be over by then. And if it’s not, they might need to come. You want to tell us what happened?”

Moira shrugs. “I showed up and let myself into the apartment. The twins asked me who I was and what I was doing. I told them to shut up and get their alpha, because I needed to talk to him. Deucalion emerged when he heard the commotion, and Kali tried to attack me from behind. I froze her, which is not a spell that I use lightly, and explained to Deucalion that we know exactly who he is, and that I would be happy to curse out of his entire pack if he didn’t agree to a meeting to discuss our terms. I gave Kali a taste of that curse, and they let me leave.”

“What sort of curse did you use?” Paul asks, obviously curious.

“It’s a variation of the blood boiling curse,” Moira says with a completely straight face. “I say variation because it won’t actually kill someone, but it will make them want to die.”

Noah knows that his eyes are wide and shocked, but he can’t argue with Moira’s methods, not knowing the body count that the alpha pack has racked up. “All right. Do you expect them to show up?”

“I do,” Moira replies. “But I think he’ll probably have one more trick up his sleeve.”

Noah nods slowly. “All right. Dave, I want you to head over there now. Take whatever precautions you deem necessary not to be seen or sensed. If Deucalion has a hostage, or brings someone else to the party, you have my go to take a shot as long as you can preserve the life of the hostage.”

“You mean, take the shot even if it means injuring the hostage, as long as they survive,” Dave clarifies.

Noah nods. “I trust you and your training, Dave. This isn’t a typical case. Deucalion is going to hear everything. I can’t give orders in the field.”

“How are you going to hide your heartbeat?” Moira asks.

Dave grins. “Werewolves don’t pay a lot of attention to domestic dogs, and I’ve been working with Cocoa and Nibs. They’re going to run interference for me.”

“With a couple of doggie heartbeats, Deucalion will have a harder time sensing yours, and he won’t expect that,” Moira says approvingly. “Great plan.”

Dave stands. “I’m going to get set up. I’ll let you know what the best angle is once I get there.”

“How did Stiles take the news that he’s benched?” Noah asks.

Moira shrugs. “I only bought us time.”

Noah nods. “That’s probably the best we can hope for. Okay, what’s your take on it?”

“Deucalion is insane,” Moira says immediately. “Kali is loyal to him and equally insane, but the twins are on the fence. I didn’t get a look at Ennis, so I can’t say anything about him.”

Noah nods. “So, we cut the head off the snake, and kick the twins out of town. I’m good with that plan.”

He texts the information to Dave, and then picks up the phone to call his kid. “What are you doing?”

“Right now, we’re watching The Italian Job, but a vicious Mario Kart competition is next, and winner picks the pizza toppings,” Stiles says. “Settle a bet: did Moira insinuate that Deucalion had a small dick or no?”

Noah has him on speaker, and Moira starts laughing hysterically. “Oh, my god, I should have!”

Noah looks at the ceiling. “You are both twelve. Are you going to stay at home?”

“I have the scrying bowl,” Stiles says cryptically.

He’s heard all manner of evasive answers to know what that means. “I need you to stay out of this, Stiles. All of you.”

“I can be used against you,” Stiles replies. “I know that, Dad. That’s why I have the scrying bowl in the first place.”

There are times when Noah wonders just what his life has become, and this is one of those times. Still, Stiles doesn’t do well when he’s kept in the dark, and if they can safely provide information as to how things are going, that’s for the best.

“All right,” Noah says. “Just be safe.”

“I think that’s my line,” Stiles replies. “Love you, Pops.”

“Love you, too, kiddo,” Noah says.

He hangs up and takes a deep breath. His life has definitely changed, and he’s grateful, if only because it’s brought him and Stiles closer.

“You’re doing well with him, Noah,” Moira says.

Noah shakes his head. “I’m in over my head, and I know that. But there’s nothing to do but move forward, right?”

“Who else are you bringing to the party?” Moira asks him.

“You, Paul, and Tara,” Noah replies. “Deucalion will likely be insulted that I haven’t brought more people to handle the situation. It will keep him off balance.”

Moira nods. “I agree. I’m glad you’re keeping Derek out of it. That boy deserves to be taken care of.”

“I’m well aware of that,” Noah says wryly. “He definitely needs looking after.”

There’s plenty to do around the station until the time comes to meet Deucalion. Noah knows he should probably be nervous, but he’s not. He has faith in Dave’s skills, and the plan they’ve made.

He meets Paul, Moira, and Tara outside the station. “We’ll take separate vehicles,” Noah says. “I want everyone to look sharp. They’re all alphas, and injuries from an alpha take longer to heal. We know he’s going to try and force my hand, and I’m not interested in losing anybody.”

Tara smirks. “We don’t want to have to break in a new Alpha or a new sheriff.”

“We’re pretty fond of the one we already have,” Paul agrees. “Dave will make sure they’re taken care of.”

Noah nods. “Okay, let’s do this.”

They drive out to the old distillery, the same place where the Argents had holed up, and Noah selected the location on purpose. He knows it holds some significance, but it also has a built-in sniper’s nest.

Noah half-expects Deucalion to be lying in wait for them, but the distillery is empty when they arrive. Noah and Moira take up a position in the center of the room, facing the door, Tara to Noah’s right, and Paul to Moira’s left.

The deception is purposeful; Paul’s position will cause Deucalion to draw the obvious conclusion as to his position in the pack. The true left hand will remain unseen.

Noah can hear a couple of dogs barking, and Dave’s plan seems to be working. Between the smell of wet dog permeating the air, and the quick sound of a couple of animal heartbeats, Dave’s presence isn’t all that noticeable.

He hears the sound of tires on gravel, and he feels his face shift. Next to him, Tara is starting to growl lowly, and Paul snarls as well.

Kali enters first, and she’s holding a girl about Stiles’ age in a headlock. The girl is struggling and snarling—clearly, she’s another werewolf—until she sees Noah. “What? Where’s the alpha? It’s supposed to be a Hale alpha!”

“Shut up!” Kali snaps, putting her claws to the girl’s throat. “Or I’ll shut you up.”

“No! Where’s the Hale alpha?” the girl demands. “Where is he?”

“I see you’ve met my present,” Deucalion intones as he enters. “Lovely, isn’t she? Bit of a spitfire, though.”

Kali’s claws have pricked the skin, and the girl goes still in her grip, apparently realizing how close she is to death.

“You seem to have me at a disadvantage,” Noah says, but more because he knows it’s expected of him.

Ennis and the twins enter. The twins stick close together, moving to flank Noah and his pack on the right, while Ennis goes to the left.

Noah knows where Dave is, and he knows that Dave still has the ability to take the shot.

“I’m surprised you didn’t bring Derek Hale with you,” Deucalion says. “You’re depriving him of a reunion with his sister.”

“Is that your play?” Noah asks. “You thought I’d bring Derek, and then you’d try to make me choose.”

“She’s his last remaining family,” Deucalion says. “You would do a lot for family, wouldn’t you, Sheriff?”

“I would,” Noah agrees. “You should probably have remembered that before messing with me and mine. I think Moira told you what would happen if you did.”

“Magic can be warded off,” Kali sneers. “Your witch can’t touch me now.”

Noah smirks. “What makes you think I’d try the same trick twice?”

Kali’s head explodes, and her claws dig into the girl’s neck briefly before Kali falls backward. The girl screams, and Deucalion roars, “KALI!”

He doesn’t have enough time to say more than that, and then his head explodes. The girl keeps screaming, her hands over her mouth, blood spattered across her face.

Ennis lunges at Noah, but he’s still a few feet away when he meets the same fate. The twins are staring at all of this, clearly stunned into immobility.

“Moira, see to the girl, please,” Noah says as he turns to face the twins, his deputies flanking him. “Now, boys, you have two choices here. You can leave town and keep your noses clean, or you can meet the fate of your friends. Up to you.”

“You—you shot them,” one of the twins says. “That isn’t fair!”

“Oh, and going around forcing alphas to kill their own pack members is fair?” Noah counters.

The other boy shakes his head. “But you killed them!”

“That’s my job—to protect my pack,” Noah replies. “Now, you have ten seconds to make a decision. Ten, nine, eight—“

That’s all the time it takes for them to turn tail and run, and Dave comes down from his sniper’s nest. “Cocoa, Nibs!” he calls with a sharp whistle.

“Good job, Dave,” Noah murmurs.

Dave nods. “What are you going to do with the bodies?”

“They were threatening a civilian, and they left us no choice,” Noah says simply. He turns to deal with the Hale girl, and he finally remembers her name. There’s only one person she can be.

“Cora,” Noah says quietly. “We all thought you were dead.”

“Where’s my brother?” Cora demands. “This is Hale territory!”

“Your brother is my right hand, and he’s currently guarding our younger pack members,” Noah says soothingly. “Maybe you remember my son, Stiles? Or his friend, Scott McCall?”

Cora’s breathing deeply, her hand over the wounds in her neck. “I want to see my brother.”

Noah’s phone buzzes in his pocket, and he has a feeling that he needs to see it. He glances at the screen, which says, derek is incoming. we couldn’t stop him.

It’s unlike Stiles to use full sentences, which means he’s feeling particularly distressed.

“Derek should be here shortly,” Noah says.

Cora hugs herself, shaking her head. Moira rummages in her bag and comes up with a wet wipe. “Here, sweetheart. Use that to wipe the blood off. You don’t want your brother to see you like that.”

Cora takes the wipe and scrubs the blood off vigorously.

“How long did they hold you?” Noah asks gently.

Cora shrugs. “A couple of months? I started hearing that the Hale pack was back, and I thought—“

“You’re going to be fine,” Noah promises. “There’s still a pack here. It might look a little different than what you expected, but there’s room for you if you decide to stay.”

Derek runs into the distillery, his eyes wild. “Cora?”

“Derek?” Cora drops the wet wipe on the ground, and Derek approaches hesitantly. “I thought you’d be the alpha.”

Derek shakes his head. “I didn’t want that kind of power. Once you get to know the sheriff, you’ll understand.”

“You have a pack?” Cora asks. “Is it big?”

“Big enough to take on the alpha pack and win,” Derek replies. “We have a couple of magic users, too. We’re building something really strong here, Cora.”

She’s wiping at her eyes. “I don’t understand.”

“I know,” Derek says. “It’s going to take time.” He takes another step closer. “Come here. We’re going to figure it out.”

Cora steps into Derek’s arms then, and he holds her close.

“Well, all’s well that ends well, huh, sir?” Paul murmurs.

“Or close enough,” Noah replies.

~~~~~

Stiles is narrating the action, without trying to add humor this time. “Okay, Dad and the others are in position. Just a matter of time now.”

“It would be okay if you projected it, you know,” Scott says. “We can handle it.”

Stiles shakes his head. “I figure I can spare you guys the gore.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you have to see it,” Derek points out gently. He doesn’t want Stiles to watch this either, but Stiles is being stubborn.

“I’ll close my eyes,” Stiles replies. “I know the signal.”

Derek sighs, knowing that he’s not going to convince Stiles not to watch.

“Okay, there’s Kali, and—she has a girl with her,” Stiles says slowly.

“What girl?” Erica asks.

Stiles shakes his head. “I don’t know. She looks kinda familiar, and she is—she’s completely freaking out.”

“She’s a prisoner then?” Derek asks.

Stiles nods. “Kali has her claws at her throat, so that’s an affirmative.”

“Is Dave going to be able to take the shot?” Erica asks.

“I guess we’ll see,” Stiles says. “Shouldn’t be too long now. Deucalion just appeared. I think he’s taunting Dad about the girl.”

“Figures,” Derek mutters.

“Wouldn’t be a villain without a monologue,” Erica comments.

Stiles leans in closer. “Um, Derek?”

He sounds uncharacteristically hesitant. “Yeah?” Derek prompts.

“Didn’t you have a younger sister? About my age?” Stiles asks.

Derek frowns. “Yeah, Cora. She died in the fire. Why?”

Stiles hesitates again. “I—I don’t know, man.” Stiles closes his eyes, and then the scene projects. Derek can see the girl Kali is holding, and while it’s been years, he knows her.

“That’s my sister,” Derek whispers. “That’s Cora.”

He’s on his feet before he even knows he’s moving.

“Derek, wait!” Stiles calls after him, but Derek just knows that he needs to get there. It will take him fifteen minutes, and the action is likely to be over by then.

He has to get to his sister. She’s going to have questions that only he can answer.

Derek tries not to speed too much on the way to the distillery, and when he drives up, he sees Moira’s car and three Beacon County vehicles.

He runs inside and sees the three bodies, then takes in Noah’s and the three deputies’ good health. Moira is attempting to comfort Cora, who’s staring at Derek with an expression that could only be called “betrayed.”

“Cora?”

Cora stares at him. “Derek? I thought you would be the alpha.”

Derek can see where she’s coming from. She doesn’t know Noah from Adam, and she has no reason to trust him. “I didn’t want that kind of power, Cora. Once you get to know the sheriff, you’ll understand.”

He really hopes that she does eventually, although he’s not going to be surprised if she’s a little snarly over the surprise.

“You have a pack?” Cora asks. “Is it big?”

Is it safe? she’s asking. Are they big enough to offer protection?

“Big enough to take on the alpha pack and win,” Derek replies, striving to meet her eyes. “We have a couple of magic users, too. We’re building something really strong here, Cora.”

She’s wiping at her eyes. “I don’t understand.”

“I know,” Derek says. “It’s going to take time.” He takes another step closer. “Come here. We’re going to figure it out.”

Cora closes the distance, and Derek pulls her into a hug. She’s stiff at first, and then she melts, burying her face in his shirt. She’s trembling, but Derek doesn’t think she’s actually shedding any tears.

“Give us a chance,” Derek whispers in her ear. “Please.”

“Okay,” Cora whispers back. “They did save my life.”

Derek waits until she starts to pull away, and then he lets her go. “Cora, this is my Alpha, Sheriff Noah Stilinski, Deputy Tara Graeme, right hand at the station, Deputy Paul Myers and Deputy Dave Anders, left hand of the pack.”

Noah chuckles. “What Derek isn’t saying is that he’s my right hand.”

Cora frowns. “What do you mean about the station and not?”

“The entire sheriff’s station knows about the pack,” Derek says quietly. “There are effectively two packs, since Noah is both Alpha and sheriff.”

She blinks. “Wait, everyone at the sheriff’s station knows?”

“And we’re making inroads at the hospital, too,” Derek says. “We have one of the head nurses and a couple of doctors on board. We’re working towards creating a sanctuary town, although that’s a ways off.”

Noah nods. “We’re making a safe space here, Cora. Now, I’ll bet you’re hungry, and you probably want to get cleaned up. Erica is about your size if you don’t have other clothing.”

Cora shakes her head. “I don’t know where they put my stuff. All I have are the clothes on my back.”

“That’s something we can fix,” Derek replies. “You want to come back with me? We’ll probably all crash at the sheriff’s house tonight.”

“You kids go on,” Noah says. “We’re going to clean up here.”

Derek feels torn. “Are you sure you don’t need my help?”

“I could use your help, but right now, I need you to take care of your sister and reassure the rest of the pack,” Noah says gently. He grips the back of Derek’s neck. “And if there isn’t enough pizza, order another for your sister.”

“Yes, sir,” Derek replies. “Thank you.”

“Never thank me for being your Alpha, Derek,” Noah replies. He looks at Cora. “You are more than welcome here. I hope you’ll stay, at least long enough to figure out what you want to do.”

Cora nods. “Thank you, Sheriff. For saving my life.”

Noah smiles gently. “You don’t have to thank me for that, either.”

Derek leads Cora out to his car, and she climbs into the passenger seat. “God, I feel gross,” she mutters.

“You can get a shower when we’re back at home, and we’ll find you some clean clothing,” Derek promises. “Then some food.”

“I can’t believe you let someone else take over as alpha!” Cora bursts out.

Derek sighs. “I didn’t want the power, like I said. And I didn’t want to kill Uncle Peter to get it.”

“I don’t understand,” Cora complains. “I thought Laura was supposed to be Alpha.”

“She was,” Derek says shortly. “And then Peter lured her back here, murdered her, and stole her power. And then he went on a murder spree.”

Cora is quiet. “Then why didn’t you want to kill him?”

“Would you want to be in charge of leading a pack and finding a bunch of new pack members so we’d be safe?” Derek demands. “Peter bit Noah, and he was willing to take the reins. He had the experience, and he had the support of the only other beta wolf in Beacon Hills. I did what I thought best.”

Cora is silent, almost sullen, and then she takes a deep breath. “Okay. I said I’d give it a chance, and I will. He did save my life.”

“He kind of saved my life, too,” Derek replies. “Thanks for giving it a shot.” He pulls up in front of the sheriff’s house and pauses. “I told you the pack was pretty big, right?”

Cora takes a deep breath. “How many?”

Derek does a mental count. “Uh, five here tonight. Four werewolves and the sheriff’s son, who’s the emissary in training.”

Cora winces. “Okay.”

Derek leads the way inside, and he finds everyone sitting in the living room. The scrying bowl is still in the center of the room, and everyone is trying to look like they hadn’t been spying.

“Hey, this is my sister, Cora,” Derek says, barreling right past the awkwardness. “Cora, Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Vernon Boyd—he prefers Boyd, Isaac Lahey, and Erica Reyes. Cora needs to get cleaned up.”

Erica leaps to her feet. “Oh, do you need something to wear? I have an overnight bag with a few things that should fit you. And toiletries. I hate using the boys’ stuff.”

“Hey!” the boys all protest at once.

“Shut up,” Erica replies. “I don’t want to smell like Old Spice, and I’m sure Cora doesn’t either. Come on, I’ll show you the bathroom.”

To Derek’s surprise, Cora follows her meekly, and Erica puts an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t worry. I was just telling the Sheriff that we needed more girls around here, and you appear! This is gonna be great, I promise.”

Derek collapses next to Stiles on the couch, who pats his leg. “We have a half a pizza left, and it’s in the oven on warm. If we need more than that, we can order another.”

Derek gives in to impulse and rests his forehead against Stiles’ shoulder. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re allowed a moment of emotional upheaval,” Stiles says, clearly amused. “Probably more than one.”

Isaac squeezes into the space on Derek’s other side, and Scott and Boyd join the group hug.

Derek is surrounded by pack, and he thinks that if Cora can just experience this for herself—if she can understand it—she’ll embrace it, too.

“Cuddle puddle!” Erica crows. “Come join us, Cora.”

Derek looks up and see Cora hovering at the threshold of the room even as Erica throws herself on Boyd. Not exactly a hardship, considering their relationship.

Stiles looks up and smiles, and he says, “Pizza’s in the oven on warm. I can grab you a plate if you don’t want to join us just yet.”

Cora sits on the edge, and Erica reaches out to grasp her ankle, connecting her, but barely.

“Maybe in a minute,” Cora says wistfully. “But thanks.”

Derek is torn between staying where he is and going to her, but he catches the expression on her face, and he thinks she needs to see what’s possible.

After all, Derek had needed to see it, too.

---