Reading Time: 112 Minutes

Title: A Raging Tempest
Series: What We Gain
Series Order: 4
Author: enigmaticblue
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Genre: Angst, Drama, Family, Hurt/Comfort
Relationship(s): Gen
Content Rating: R
Warnings: Rape/Non-con/Dub-con (between Derek Hale and Jennifer Blake where she uses magic to roofie him)
Word Count: 68,278
Summary: Noah realizes that integrating as many pack members as they have is going to present problems of its own. With pressures building inside and outside the pack, Noah finds himself in the midst of a storm that may devastate his pack and Beacon Hills alike.
Artist: ringspells

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Chapter 2

“Are you certain of your sister’s identity?” Sam asks.

Derek pulls out his cell phone and shows the picture he’d snapped.

Sam snorts. “She certainly has the Hale look. Well, your accounts are healthy, so covering her expenses is easy. Have you given any more thought to tearing down the old house?”

“I want to do it,” Derek replies. “I plan on letting Cora see it, but I want to start construction on a new house soon.”

Sam pulls out the blueprints Derek had commissioned and spreads them out on his desk. “I would estimate at least 9 to 12 months to build a house of this size, but the financing is available. If you want, I’ll start looking for a contractor.”

“I do want that,” Derek agrees.

Sam Jones has been the Hale financial advisor for three decades now, and so his dark eyes and skin, gray hair and beard are familiar to Derek. He’s been managing the Hale money with great success, and neither Derek nor Cora would have to work again if they chose that route.

“All right,” Sam replies. “To be honest, Derek, I’m not sure I’d choose to rebuild on that land in your place.”

“I don’t like leaving it as a burned-out hulk,” Derek says. “I think rebuilding will serve as an appropriate memorial.”

Sam nods. “Well, it’s your family, and your decision. I’ll be in touch once I’ve found a contractor.”

“Thanks,” Derek says. “I appreciate your time. I know it’s a bit late.”

“I understand that you’re trying to finish up your education,” Sam says, reaching out to shake Derek’s hand. “Good luck with that.”

Derek had a class, as well as some other errands, not just the meeting with Sam, and Sam had been kind enough to meet with him after his regular office hours. He stops for dinner, knowing that it’s going to be well past that time before he gets back to Beacon Hills.

His final errand is a stop at Target to pick up the things on the list the rest of the pack had made—everything from laundry detergent to shampoo. It’s when he’s checking out that his phone buzzes with an incoming text. He glances down to see the message from Noah.

We’ve had a kidnapping, and a potential murder. There’s no need for you to rush back, but I wanted to let you know what’s going on.

He quickly finishes paying and loading the car, then starts the drive to Beacon Hills. Derek had been hoping that after the alpha pack things would calm down, but a kidnapping has put paid to those hopes.

It’s probably a mark of how the pack has matured, because Derek believes that things are being handled. They no longer have a small, vulnerable pack; it’s larger, with the entire station aware, and with a budding coven.

Derek just hopes that Cora can eventually see how strong the pack is, and that it wouldn’t have come about if Derek had been the Alpha.

And he hadn’t missed the way she’d said Ennis’ name. Derek knows there’s some deep trauma, but she won’t talk about it. He won’t force it out of her, though, and he just hopes that if she can’t tell him, she’ll tell someone.

Even though Noah said the issue was handled, Derek drives straight to the station, wanting to get a better idea of what was going on.

Deputy Maria Delgado is the only deputy there, but Derek can see the light burning in Noah’s office. “Hey, Derek,” she says. “You can go on back. The Sheriff said you might stop in.”

“Thanks,” Derek replies, very familiar with all of the deputies by now.

Noah waves him to a seat across from his desk, and Derek makes sure to close the door. “You didn’t have to stop in, but I’m not surprised that you did.”

“Your text wasn’t super specific, and I wanted to see if I could help,” Derek admits.

Noah sighs. “We’re in a bit of a sticky situation at the moment. Stiles saw a girl get kidnapped, but the person used magic and didn’t leave much in the way of a crime scene. She hasn’t been reported missing yet, and it would be difficult to explain why we’re looking for her, or even what happened.”

Derek grimaces. “So, what are you going to do about it?”

“Dave, Paul, and Tara are out looking, but we have no idea where she might have been taken,” Noah admits. “What’s worse is that, according to Moira, this isn’t going to be the last death unless we can identify the perpetrator and stop them soon.”

“Do we have any ideas?” Derek asks.

“Dark magic user,” Noah says. “But I’ll admit that this all goes right over my head.”

Derek blows out a breath. “Same, to be honest. Should I join them?”

“I can hide their involvement as being out on regular patrol,” Noah says ruefully. “I can’t say the same for you. Why don’t you head home and check on Scott and Cora? They were with him when the kidnapping occurred, and they’re both unharmed, but I’d like someone to put eyes on them.”

Derek nods, because that’s the least he can do. “Of course. Let me know if there’s anything else.”

He drives to the house, and wonders when they can begin work on the pack house. He’d hoped it would stay quiet so he could focus on that and school. When he pulls up, Stiles’ Jeep isn’t in its usual place, and Moira’s car is also missing.

Derek parks in front, and enters the house. The front door tends to remain unlocked, because there are so many pack members who come and go, and with werewolves and magic users involved, a locked door isn’t going to provide much protection.

He’s not surprised to see most of the pack present, at least the younger members. “What’s going on?” Scott demands, getting to his feet. “What did the Sheriff say?”

“He asked me to come home and check on all of you,” Derek replies, and he turns to Cora. “Are you all right?”

Cora shrugs. “I didn’t see anything. I mean, we saw Stiles running down to the basement, but once we got down there, everything looked normal.”

Boyd’s expression is skeptical. “Are you sure something happened?”

“Stiles said it did, and so did Moira,” Scott says stoutly. “I believe Stiles.”

Derek doesn’t know what’s going on with Scott these days. He could feel Stiles’ upset through the bond earlier, and had texted Cora to tell her to accompany them to the party. Derek figured that she could at least provide a buffer or a distraction, and maybe make up for verbally attacking him. He’s not getting much from Scott, though.

“Hey, if Doctor Strange said it happened, then it happened,” Erica says, elbowing Boyd.

Isaac nods slowly. “Who was taken?”

“An old friend of Stiles, Heather-something,” Scott replies. “I think Moira was taking Stiles to the Mahealanis because of the magic stuff.”

Derek looks at Scott. “You want to tell me what happened earlier?”

Scott flushes and shakes his head. “It was between me and Stiles. We worked it out.”

Isaac gives Scott a disbelieving look. “We all felt Stiles getting upset through the bond, dude. You’ve been squirrelly about the pack lately.”

“Dr. Deaton says I’m meant for bigger and better things,” Scott mutters. “That’s all.”

Derek can imagine the impact of those words on Scott, and why Scott would need to hear them. But there are many ways that can be understood—and one of those ways would be sure to upset Stiles.

“Please tell me that you didn’t make a comment about being the Alpha,” Derek says, feeling tired.

Scott just looks shifty.

Cora is closest to him, and she punches Scott in the shoulder. “Dude! You just insinuated that you wanted to kill the Alpha!”

“No, I didn’t!” Scott protests. “I said I wouldn’t be able to reach my full potential here in Beacon Hills! There’s a difference. I don’t want anything to happen to Sheriff Stilinski.”

Derek just shakes his head. “You’re seventeen, Scott. Even if you eventually become the alpha of a pack, it likely won’t be for decades. It shouldn’t be for decades, and by then, you might not even be living in Beacon Hills.”

“But I have a magical destiny the same way that Stiles does!” Scott protests. “Dr. Deaton says so.”

Derek has no idea what he might have said if Stiles and Moira hadn’t walked into the house at just that moment.

Stiles seems to sense the tension in the room, and he freezes. “What’s going on?”

“Dr. Deaton seems to think that Scott has a magical destiny,” Derek says mildly, because he thinks getting that out in the open is important.

Moira raises her eyebrows. “Oh, does he?”

Scott crosses his arms over his chest. “I was talking to him about Stiles, and Dr. Deaton told me that I had a destiny, and I was meant for something more.”

“Did he tell you that you have the potential to be a ‘true alpha?’” Moira asks, and while she doesn’t actually deploy air quotes, Derek can definitely hear them.

Scott shrugs. “Something like that.”

“And how on earth are you going to be a ‘true alpha’ if you’re alienating the other pack members?” Moira asks with exasperation. “Your friends?”

“I didn’t mean to!” Scott protests. “I just want something more!”

“And that’s very natural for someone your age,” Moira replies, her voice gentling. “Perhaps focus on being the best student you can be, the best pack member, the best son, the best friend. When you do that, then you will be ready to be a true alpha.” She looks around the room. “No one can say what the future will bring, or what we will be called to do, or what tragedies we might face. Being the best version of ourselves, and being true to the pack, that is what we can do right now.”

Moira doesn’t give speeches to the pack, not as a general matter, but Derek can see her words sinking in and taking hold. Even Cora sits a little straighter, and he can see a light in her eyes as she takes in what Moira is saying.

“I want to be in the pack,” Cora blurts out.

Stiles’ eyes start to glow beta-gold. “If you want to be in the pack, you can be, as long as you acknowledge my dad as the Alpha, Derek as the right hand, and Dave as left hand.”

Cora nods. “I do.”

“All right,” Stiles says, and he presses a hand to her chest. “Be part of our pack, Cora.”

Derek feels the bond bloom bright, the same way it had when Stiles had announced that he was pack. He can feel those Noah had offered the bite, but not in the same way. The bond that Stiles forges is different, and somehow more.

Cora’s eyes glow gold as she gasps. “Oh, my god.” She starts to cry, heart wrenching sobs that have every pack member surrounding her—everyone other than Scott, as they try to comfort her. The Hale pack bonds had frayed so badly that while Derek had known she was miserable, he hadn’t known the depths of her misery.

Off to the side, Derek can hear Moira asking, “Scott? What is it?”

“I can’t feel Cora,” Scott says, sounding bewildered. “I can’t really feel anyone. I can’t believe I didn’t notice.”

“Stiles, come here,” Moira orders, sounding very stern. “I need you to do the same thing for Scott that you did for Cora.”

Derek’s head comes up, even as he continues to comfort his sister. Moira looks absolutely furious, and Stiles reluctantly breaks away from the rest of the pack in their little huddle. “What’s going on?”

“Someone has been working to erode Scott’s pack bonds,” Moira says grimly. “I need you to renew them.”

Stiles frowns, and Derek is a little surprised when Stiles hesitates. “Really?”

“Stiles, I had no idea,” Scott protests. “I just—I just thought that I was… I don’t know.”

Cora is still crying, although her sobs are quieter now. Derek’s attention is split between his sister, whom he wants to comfort, and the drama going down between Stiles and Scott. Both feel equally important at the moment.

“I’ve got her,” Erica murmurs, moving into Derek’s place. “Take care of the pack.”

Erica folds herself around Cora and murmurs, “We’re sisters now. It’s okay. I have you.”

“We’re pack,” Isaac says, crowding against Cora’s back, keeping her bookended.

That allows Derek to extricate himself to deal with the brewing conflict between Stiles and Scott. Moira is clearly seeing something that Stiles either cannot see, or that he won’t allow himself to see.

Stiles is bristling at both Scott and Moira, and Derek knows that it has to do with hurt—hurt from Scott’s earlier comment about wanting to be an Alpha, and hurt over what had happened to his friend.

“Moira,” Derek says softly, resting his hands on Stiles’ shoulders. “Let me talk to him. This is a really high pressure environment, and Stiles has had a shit night.”

Moira takes a step back, taking an audible breath. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Stiles. This is your choice, and I shouldn’t have pushed.”

Stiles looks distressed. “I don’t, I can’t—“

Batman starts crowding Stiles, giving Derek a look that clearly expresses his disappointment in Derek’s performance. Derek has no idea how a dog could look so judgy.

“Right,” Derek says. He glances at Cora, who is almost in Erica’s lap and clearly being comforted by the rest of the pack, and maybe this is exactly what she needs. She might need her brother, but she needs the comfort of her pack more—maybe just the knowledge that she has a pack.

At this very moment, though, Stiles needs him. He needs his father’s right hand.

Derek gets Stiles into the kitchen and sits him down on the floor to give Batman better access, while Derek sits down across from him. Stiles hugs Batman’s neck and buries his face in the dog’s fur, and Derek can hear him trying to breathe normally.

Derek’s phone vibrates, and he answers it immediately. “What the hell is going on?” Noah demands.

“Cora announced that she wanted to be a part of the pack, and Stiles obliged,” Derek says succinctly. “Then Scott realized that he couldn’t feel Cora’s presence in the pack bonds, and Moira said that his bond to the pack had been corrupted somehow.”

“Stiles is panicking,” Noah says bluntly. “Is that why?”

“Stiles hesitated to renew the bonds when asked,” Derek says briefly. “And now he has Batman, and we’ve separated ourselves from the rest to allow him to calm down.”

“I’m coming home,” Noah says. “If I bit Scott, what would that do?”

“Nothing, as far as turning him or changing his circumstances,” Derek replies. “Psychologically, or with the bond, I don’t know. I’ve never been in this situation before.”

Noah sighs audibly. “Okay. How is Cora? I can feel her through the bond, and I can’t quite figure it out.”

“I think she’s overwhelmed with having a pack and feeling those bonds,” Derek replies. “And there’s some trauma there, of course.”

Noah growls a bit. “I’ll be there shortly.”

Stiles is calming down at least as Derek puts his phone away. “I feel stupid. This is Scott.”

“Yeah, it’s Scott,” Derek says dryly. “Is it possible that you still have a little residual anger?” Stiles just gives him a sour look, and Derek takes that as a yes. “And then he let the pack bonds go, whether that was his fault or not.”

Stiles shrugs uncomfortably, and it’s unlike him to be this silent.

Derek scoots over to sit next to Stiles, so that he and Batman are bookending him. “Well, this has been a very shitty evening in a lot of ways,” Stiles mutters after a long few moments.

“Do you want a hug?” Derek asks, feeling a little out of his depth.

“Yeah,” Stiles admits.

Derek wraps an arm around Stiles’ shoulders. “Sorry it’s been such a shitty night.”

Stiles rests his forehead on Derek’s shoulder and doesn’t say anything else.

Derek can hear when Noah arrives home, and there’s a bit of a commotion in the living room, with Scott protesting that he hadn’t done anything wrong. Cora says, “I’m sorry, I should have waited for you.”

“I trust Stiles to know what to do in these situations,” Noah replies. “Scott, sit down and shut up, please. We’re going to sort all of this out. In fact, everyone please sit down.”

Derek can track Noah’s movements towards the kitchen, and Noah comes to crouch in front of Stiles. Noah is quiet for a moment as he studies Stiles. “I’m making an emergency appointment for you with Jack for tomorrow, and I’m going to try to get that pack counselor here ASAP.”

Stiles nods but otherwise doesn’t move. Derek can tell that Stiles has just shut down, but then he’s had a very rough night.

Noah pats his knee. “Why don’t you go upstairs and get some sleep?”

Stiles takes a deep shuddery breath that Derek can feel, and then Stiles pulls away. He shakes his head and says, “No. I need to handle my business. We can’t afford to have a weak link right now. Someone is trying to weaken the pack, and if Moira is right about the Darach, they’ll use that, too.”

“You don’t have to do this tonight,” Noah says, his face creased with worry.

“Yes, I do,” Stiles says, his face set with both anger and determination. “Come on, Batman.”

Stiles walks out of the kitchen, his back straight, and Derek can feel his resolution. Derek admires him a lot in that moment, because Stiles is putting the pack before his own comfort.

Derek and Noah follow him out, and Stiles is looking at Moira, not Scott. “Are you sure that this was outside influence?”

“Positive,” Moira says firmly. “Because the bonds were created by magic, they can also be eroded by magic.”

Stiles nods. “Do you even want to be in this pack, Scott? Because I’m getting some really mixed messages from you right now.”

“Yes, I want to be in the pack,” Scott replies, desperation in his voice. “I didn’t know. I didn’t have any idea until the bond formed with Cora, and I couldn’t really feel it.”

“Maybe there’s a reason for that,” Stiles says. “Do the pack a favor and think about it.”

Scott nods miserably, and Derek really has to wonder how oblivious Scott has been.

“All right,” Stiles says, and presses his hand against Scott’s chest, his eyes glowing gold.

Scott gasps, and his eyes glow gold, his face shifting, fangs descending. Derek realizes that Scott’s connection to the pack had been fading, and there’s some lingering discomfort that Derek can’t quite figure out.

“It was a druid,” Stiles says flatly. “The one who tried to undermine the pack bonds. That connection had a similar flavor as the Darach, just less gross.”

Moira nods. “I agree.”

“I’m going to bed,” Stiles announces. “And I don’t want to be disturbed.”

He stalks up the stairs, and Noah turns to Moira. “Is there a way to protect Scott, other than having him quit his job?”

“What? No!” Scott immediately protests. “Why would I quit my job?”

Moira sends Scott a pitying look. “It’s obvious that Dr. Deaton is the druid.”

“He wouldn’t hurt anyone!” Scott says heatedly. “You can’t say that.”

“I don’t think he was trying to hurt anyone, and he’s not trying to hurt you,” Moira says with asperity. “But the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and what he tried to do undermined the pack as a whole.”

Derek frowns. “But why?”

“Because Deaton apparently believes that Scott is meant to be a ‘true alpha,’ which is one who rises through adversity, without having to take or accept the alpha spark from someone else,” Moira says. “There’s some evidence that such a thing exists, but it’s by no means a sure thing.”

“Wait, Deaton would undermine Scott’s pack bonds for that?” Noah asks, sounding confused.

“He wouldn’t be as motivated to be a ‘true alpha’ if he’s in a pack, and he’s happy,” Moira replies.

Noah rubs his eyes, and then his cell phone chimes with an incoming text. He glances at his phone and frowns. “Derek, kids, I need you all to stay here tonight. We have another body.”

“I’ll come with you,” Moira offers.

Noah meets Derek’s eyes. “I can’t send anyone back here, so it’s just you.”

Derek nods. “I’ll man the fort.”

Noah and Moira leave hurriedly, and Derek turns to face the others. Scott looks crushed. “I don’t think Dr. Deaton wanted to hurt me.”

“I’m sure he didn’t,” Derek replies neutrally. “But you’re going to have to figure out how to move forward, Scott. You said you wanted to stay in the pack. That may mean making some choices that you don’t want to make.”

Erica frowns. “But why Scott? And what’s the point? Beacon Hills has an Alpha.”

“We might just have to ask him,” Derek replies. “But not right now. Right now, let’s get the sleeping bags and blankets, and we’ll stay down here.”

Cora hesitates. “Should we let Stiles know?”

“You heard him,” Derek replies. “He didn’t want to be disturbed, and we’re going to honor that. If he wants to join us, he can.”

Derek is going to make sure that Stiles isn’t disturbed before he chooses to be. He can at least do that much.

~~~~~

Noah hates the feeling that chaos might be creeping back in to Beacon Hills. He drives to the address Tara directed him to, and pulls up in front of one of the town’s public pools.

Noah sees Tara and her patrol car, lights flashing, and there’s an ambulance, too. He’s surprised to see Lydia Martin standing there as well, though, wringing her hands, and appearing quite distressed.

His initial reaction, which he does not voice, is, great, another upset teenager. What he actually says is, “Ms. Martin, what are you doing here?”

“I don’t know!” she says, and she’s pale and trembling. “I just got here, and I found the body.”

“Why don’t you put her in the back of the car?” Noah suggests to Tara. “We’ll call her parents from the station.”

“They’re not in town,” Lydia admits. “Both of them are on business trips.”

“Is there someone we can call for you?” Noah asks. They’ll need to get her statement, but he’s leery of doing that without a parent’s permission.

Not that he thinks Lydia had anything to do with the death, but he’s always cautious about questioning a minor, even under these circumstances.

Lydia shakes her head. “No, not really.” She dashes away tears. “I’m sorry, I don’t even know why I’m here, but I just—felt drawn.”

“Okay,” Noah says soothingly. “We are going to need to get your statement, but I need to make sure the scene is secure first.”

Tara takes off her jacket and wraps it around Lydia’s shoulders. “Come on, Ms. Martin. My vehicle is at least warmer.”

Moira has already approached the body, hands behind her back, clearly looking at as much as she can without getting too close and disturbing the scene.

“What are we looking at?” Noah asks her in an undertone.

“Threefold death, based on just what I can see from here,” Moira says. “There will be a third body in very short order.”

“You’re sure about Heather, then,” Noah murmurs.

Moira nods. “There may be a gap between this trio and the next as the Darach incorporates the power they’ve gained from these sacrifices, but then there will be another three.”

“And you think these three are all virgins?” Noah whispers.

Moira shrugs. “We won’t know for sure until you can confirm, but it’s a traditional foray when beginning the Fivefold Knot, and since they’ve used the threefold death, that’s almost certainly what they’re going to try.”

“Threefold death?” Noah asks.

“Blow to the head, a cut to the throat, and strangulation by garrote,” Moira replies. “I’ve only seen it once before, and it’s likely that they’ll get lazy as the Fivefold Knot progresses.”

“You don’t think we’ll be able to stop them before then?” Noah asks, feeling horrified.

Moira hesitates. “A Darach is a different creature entirely, Noah. They are secretive, and go to great lengths to remain hidden. With Stiles’ power, we might stand a chance at locating them, but I’m not sure. I’m more uncertain still because we have a druid undermining the pack bonds, and we still have the Nemeton, and what lies beneath it.”

Noah feels completely out of his depth. There’s no real police work that he can do when it comes to magic. He can’t marshal his forces. He can’t even really start looking for Heather, because she hasn’t been reported missing, and probably won’t be for another 12 to 24 hours.

He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Shit.”

“This is not going to be an easy time for you, Noah,” Moira warns in a low voice. “Stiles will need to be involved.”

Noah shakes his head reflexively. “He’s a kid.”

“We haven’t talked about Stiles’ immense power yet,” Moira says. “And we need to have that conversation, but not here.”

“I’m making him an emergency therapy session, and I’m pushing for the pack therapist to be here sooner, rather than later,” Noah says. “Is there any reason I should wait?”

“Werewolves are generally not targets of this sort of ritual,” Moira admits. “A werewolf’s energy is unpredictable. But the non-werewolf members of the pack could become targets, depending. Five-Fold Knots typically target four other groups: warriors, healers, philosophers, and guardians, but that interpretation can be broad.”

“Great, so we know that at least 12 other people will be targeted, but not who they are,” Noah says grimly.

Moira nods. “That is what I’m saying.”

Noah shakes his head and looks up at the sky. “I need to get Lydia’s statement, but we need to talk about Stiles, and we probably both need to speak with Mel about Scott.”

Moira nods. “Tell Derek to keep all the kids at the house. I know they have school, but the Darach is going to get a massive amount of power from these sacrifices, and they might try to act against the pack. The house is well-warded, so they’ll be safe.”

“And my deputies?” Noah asks.

Moira smiles. “Well, in that there’s some safety. Since they are your deputies, the Darach will likely choose other targets, since it would be difficult to know for sure which of them are werewolves without getting close.”

Noah sighs. “All right. Do you need a ride somewhere?”

“I left my car at the station when Stiles and I went over to the Mahealanis,” Moira replies. “So, just back there.”

Noah nods. “Easy enough, then.”

It has been an eventful night, and it’s not over yet. He still has his deputies out looking for Heather, but he doesn’t have much hope of finding her alive.

Moira hops out of the car with the movements of a much younger woman and waves at him, and Noah really wishes he had time that evening to get some answers about Stiles’ role in all this.

He doesn’t, though. He needs to get Lydia’s statement and then make sure she gets home safely.

Tara meets him just inside and says, “The boys are still looking, but there’s no sign. They’re willing to keep at it, but…”

“No,” Noah replies. “There’s no sense in exhausting ourselves now when we know this is going to be more of a marathon than a sprint. Moira thinks we can expect up to fifteen bodies to drop.”

“People are going to start fleeing Beacon Hills in droves, sir,” Tara mutters. “This used to be a good town.”

“Moira is working on the root of the problem,” Noah replies. “But I would agree. Where’s Lydia Martin?”

“I set her up in your office,” Tara replies. “There’s a tape recorder, so you’ll have audio, but no video.”

Noah grimaces. “I’d like you to sit in. I don’t expect there to be a problem, but I’d prefer to avoid even the appearance of evil.”

Tara nods. “I would agree.”

In the overhead light of his office, Noah can get a better look at Lydia than he had at the crime scene. He’s met her before, of course, and he’s heard his son talk about her rapturously in the past, although that has tapered off considerably. He’s always found her impeccably dressed and coiffed, but she appears a bit disheveled tonight, her red hair disordered, wearing jeans and a t-shirt that look as though she hastily threw them on.

Lydia still has Tara’s coat around her shoulders, and she’s hugging herself tightly, dark circles under her eyes.

Noah takes a seat next to her, making sure to leave plenty of distance. “Ms. Martin, I just need to get your statement, and then Deputy Graeme will take you home. Are you sure there isn’t anyone I can call for you? A friend or family member?”

“Maybe Danny,” Lydia says softly. “Danny Mahealani.”

“I know him and his family,” Noah replies. “I can give him a call once we’re done here, or you can. That’s up to you.”

Lydia shakes her head. “I’ll call him once we’re done. I really don’t have anyone else.”

“I know you said your parents are out of town, but no one else?” Noah presses.

Lydia shakes her head. “Allison was my best friend, and you know… Well, you know. Jackson’s parents moved to London at the beginning of the school year.”

In that moment, all Noah sees is a vulnerable young woman who appears to be incredibly lonely.

“All right,” Noah says. “In your own words, tell me what happened this evening.”

“I don’t know,” Lydia admits. “I was at home, getting ready for bed, and I just had this urge. It was a compulsion, I guess. I left the house and started walking, and I found myself in front of the pool. That’s when I discovered the body, and I immediately called 911.”

Noah asks a few more questions, mostly rephrasing his earlier queries, but he gets the same answer every time. Lydia had no idea how she wound up in front of the pool, what had drawn her there, or what had notified her that there was a body.

“One last question,” Noah says gently. “Were you at a house party thrown by a girl named Heather Smith?”

Lydia frowns, and her gaze sharpens. “She used to go to school with us, right?”

“That’s right,” Noah confirms.

Lydia shakes her head. “No, I haven’t talked to her in ages. We lost touch, and we were never that close to begin with, so I don’t know why she’d invite me to her party.”

Noah smiles. “Yes, well, I just needed to ask. I appreciate your time tonight. If you feel uncomfortable at any point, don’t hesitate to call us.”

“You have my card,” Tara says smoothly. “Come on, I’ll give you a lift home, unless you’d prefer Mr. Mahealani meet you here.”

Lydia shakes her head. “No, but thank you.”

When she’s gone, Noah blows out a breath. “Well, hell.” It’s not as though he’s unused to strange and even inexplicable events. He has a werecoyote in his pack, and Noah is almost certain that Jordan Parrish isn’t entirely human, although Noah is certain he’s not a were.

It’s possible that Lydia has some sort of ability that’s just now waking up, part of the exposure to the Nemeton, as he understands it. But it does mean that he has an evil druid, strife within his pack, and whatever the hell Lydia is—all at the same time.

Noah rests his head in his hands and takes a few calming breaths, then checks his messages. He’s relieved to see the text from Jack.

I can do a telehealth appointment tomorrow at noon, and I’m free until 2, so we can take as long as necessary. As for my referral, I reached out again tonight, and she said she can be there the day after tomorrow. She tends to prefer to do weekend intensives, and shorter appointments in between.

That’s better than Noah had expected, and he sends back a quick, We’ll make it work. Thanks.

After that, he calls Mel, although he’s a little surprised when she picks up, since he knows she’s at work. “Noah? Is everything okay?”

“Scott is fine,” Noah says immediately. “And he’s not in any kind of trouble. We did have some trouble earlier this evening, and we have one DB and one missing, but it’s not a pack member.”

“But there has been some trouble,” Mel says knowingly.

“You were more right than you know about Dr. Deaton,” Noah admits. “It all came to a bit of a head tonight, and I have a pack counselor coming to help us work through some of these issues.”

“Between Scott and Stiles?” Mel asks. “I thought they worked that out.”

“I thought they had as well,” Noah admits. “But Deaton somehow managed to corrupt Scott’s pack bond, and that could explain some of his recent erratic behavior. Moira asked Stiles to renew the bond, and Stiles balked initially, but then agreed.”

“That son of a bitch,” Mel mutters. “I thought Dr. Deaton actually cared about Scott.”

Noah sighs. “I don’t think we can assume bad intentions, as much as I’d like to do so. I think he believes that Scott has the potential to be greater, and thought that potential wouldn’t be fulfilled if he’s part of a stable pack.”

“Listen to yourself,” Mel snaps. “That would be like me arguing that I should have stayed married to Rafe because of the statistics on what happens to children from single-parent homes. Whatever his intentions, he actively worked to harm my child by taking away something that was helping him!”

Noah blows out a breath. “Okay, that’s fair. Thanks for calling bullshit on that. I just—don’t know what to do.”

Mel snorts. “Well, as the head of the pack, maybe you feel uncomfortable telling Scott that he needs to quit his job, but as his mother, I have no problem with it. I’ll talk to him. Where is he now?”

“He’s at the house,” Noah replies. “I have Derek staying with all of the younger pack members for right now. I don’t think there’s any threat to Scott or the others, at least other than potentially Stiles, but I’m not taking any chances.”

Mel makes a sound. “I really thought things were getting quieter.”

“We probably jinxed ourselves, because I was thinking the same thing,” Noah admits. “I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

“I’d better get back to work,” Mel says. “But I appreciate the update, and your support. I care about Scott’s potential, of course, but a teenager doesn’t need to be worried about leading a pack. Scott’s focus should be on school.”

“You’re preaching to the choir,” Noah replies. “Thanks, Mel.”

“Be safe,” Mel says.

“You, too.”

Noah rubs his eyes, and then he decides to call it quits for the day. They won’t get the autopsy results until the next day, and he’s already called off the search for Heather. He knows another body is likely to drop soon—not just Heather’s—but there’s nothing he can do to prevent it.

And right now, Noah just wants to be with the rest of his pack, and he wants to know that his kid is okay.

~~~~~

Stiles hears his dad open the door and poke his head into his bedroom, but he feigns sleep. He’s glad that his dad is home, although he’s been acutely attuned to the pack bonds since creating the bond with Cora and renewing the one with Scott. He’d known his dad is safe, just like he knows Dave and Paul and Tara are safe, just like he knows the rest of the back is downstairs sleeping in a puppy pile.

Batman has a dog bed in Stiles’ room, but on a night like tonight, he stretches out next to Stiles, allowing himself to be used as a body pillow.

Stiles is hoping that having his dad home will help calm him down, enough so he can sleep, but he’s not counting on it.

He keeps asking himself how he’d missed someone attacking a pack bond that Stiles had created. If he’d noticed sooner, would things have been easier?

“I know you’re faking it, kiddo,” his dad says. “You have an appointment with Jack tomorrow at noon, and he has two hours clear. The pack therapist will be here the day after tomorrow. I need you to engage with the process.”

Stiles considers not doing anything to acknowledge that, but instead, he offers a thumbs up while pressing his face into Batman’s shoulder.

“Okay,” his dad says, but he does come over to press a kiss to the top of Stiles’ head. “Don’t worry about breakfast tomorrow, okay? We’ll get it figured out.”

He rubs Stiles’ back for a few moments, and then Stiles says, “Sorry, but can you stay?”

“As long as you need,” his dad replies, sitting on the edge of Stiles’ bed. “What can I do?”

“Just be here,” Stiles mutters. “I’m sorry. You could be with the rest of the pack.”

“I could be,” his dad says, scooting so that his back is against the wall and he can rub Stiles’ back. “So could you.”

Stiles huffs. “How did I miss it, Dad?”

“Stiles, I don’t think you missed anything,” his dad says. “Scott is doing better in school, and he’s participating in classes and activities that you’re not, and vice versa.”

“But somewhere along the way, I stopped checking on the pack bonds so closely, so I didn’t notice that Scott’s had changed,” Stiles replies, rolling to look his dad in the face. “I knew he was getting more distant, but I thought that was just us spending time apart. That’s on me.”

His dad hums. “Is it, though? I didn’t notice either, and I’m the Alpha. You have plenty on your plate, Stiles. Don’t take this on. Some of it is on Scott, too.”

“He’s defenseless against Deaton,” Stiles mutters. “You know, I haven’t been to the clinic since before my kidnapping. Maybe I should stop by.”

“How about you let Moira take care of that?” his dad counters. “Mel is going to talk to Scott about quitting his job.”

Stiles turns back to Batman. “I just really want everything to calm the fuck down.”

His dad doesn’t even chide him on his language. “I know.”

He falls asleep between one breath and the next, and when he wakes up, Batman is nosing at his neck, and the sun hasn’t quite risen.

“Sorry, buddy,” Stiles murmurs. “You probably need to go out, huh?”

Batman whines softly, and Stiles motions him to get down before rolling out of bed, shoving his feet into a pair of shoes and throwing on a hoodie. The puppy pile in the living room is still going strong, and Stiles lets Batman outside, sitting on the back steps as Batman does his business.

He can sense someone coming up from behind him, and he knows who it is. Somehow, he’s not surprised that Erica is the one to approach him.

“How’s it hanging?” Erica asks, sitting next to him and looping her arm through his.

“I feel pretty stupid,” Stiles admits.

“Don’t,” Erica says shortly. “None of us noticed, because Scott was hiding it from everyone, just like he hid his text messages to fake-Allison. It’s not like we have a lot of privacy in the pack, so when Scott said he was going through some shit, we let him have his space.”

“But it’s Scott,” Stiles protests.

Erica sighs. “I know you’ve known Scott forever, but—you have your own thing going on, too, Stiles.”

“What do you mean?” Stiles asks, although he’s pretty sure he already knows.

“You have magic,” Erica says softly. “You’re going to be the pack’s emissary once you’re ready. You gave up lacrosse so you can take judo and whatever else. You’re also the Alpha’s son. And in the middle of all that, Dr. Deaton tells Scott that he’s special, really special, one in a million, and if he just distances himself from all of us, he can be a ‘true alpha.’”

Stiles feels sick to his stomach. “That—that’s grooming behavior.”

“Yep,” Erica says, popping the syllable. “I had a doctor start pulling that shit when I was twelve, but my mom overheard some of it and threatened to sue him within an inch of his life. I got a very thorough lecture on grooming after that.”

“What do I do?” Stiles says.

“You keep being you,” Erica replies. “Let us set Scott straight. It doesn’t all have to be on you.”

Stiles sighs. “Okay, fair enough.”

“We’re going to be fine,” Erica insists. “Also, good job on Cora’s pack bond. I don’t think it was about your very obvious crush on Derek, but her jealousy over what Derek has here. Now that she has it, too, she’s settling—and you gave that to her. Don’t freak out if she’s weird about it.”

Stiles glances over at her, seeing the humor and affection in her expression. “How did you get so smart?”

“Hm,” Erica says, pretending to think about it. “I know where she’s coming from. Also, I’ve always been this smart, but between the seizures, the meds, and my shitty parents, I never had the chance to demonstrate it.”

“Have you thought about a career in law enforcement?” Stiles asks. “Because I think you’d be a great deputy.”

Erica just grins. “Only if you’re going to be my partner.”

Stiles holds up a pinky finger. “Completely platonic life partners?”

“You’re on,” Erica says, hooking her pinky finger around his. “You wanna join the puppy pile?”

Stiles shakes his head. “I think I might go for a run, actually. I know it’s early, but I don’t think I’ll get back to sleep.”

“The Sheriff might have something to say about that,” Erica counters.

“The Sheriff is happy to go with him,” his dad says, stepping out onto the back porch. “And we can jog right past the bakery to pick up donuts.”

Erica bounces up and presses a kiss to his dad’s cheek. “Thanks!”

“Derek might want to come,” Stiles points out. “Others might, too.”

“If they’re waiting by the front door by the time we’re ready, they can join us, as long as there are at least two remaining behind,” his dad replies.

Stiles lets out a low whistle, and Batman comes running. “Want to get out for a run?”

Batman gives a full body wriggle in sheer excitement.

“I think that’s a yes,” Stiles says.

He puts Batman’s vest on, if only so they can enter the donut shop without issue. Stiles is a little surprised when Isaac and Boyd join them, but Derek elects to stay behind.

Then again, maybe Isaac and Boyd just want to have some time with the Alpha, away from the rest of the pack. Stiles knows that he often craves time with his dad.

“What’s going to happen with Deaton?” Isaac asks as they start stretching in front of the house.

His dad shrugs. “I’m leaving that up to Mel and Moira.”

“I should have noticed,” Stiles mutters.

Boyd gives him a look. “Don’t be stupid. It’s not your fault. Scott has been standoffish lately—with everyone, not just you.”

“Yeah, but I created that bond,” Stiles argues. “I should have noticed.”

“Maybe you weren’t supposed to,” Isaac points out, his tone entirely reasonable. “I didn’t want anyone to know what my dad was doing, so I made a lot of excuses.”

Stiles knows that Scott is really attached to Deaton, so he can see that. Scott has issues with authority figures—particularly male authority figures—if it’s not Deaton. “It just makes me wonder.”

“We’ll keep an eye on him, too,” Boyd offers. “The whole pack will. You know that.”

Stiles realizes that they decided to come running with them in part to reestablish the relationships, and they want to reassure Stiles. It’s a subtle declaration of their loyalties—to the pack, to his dad, and to Stiles.

If Scott thinks he’s going to be an Alpha, he’s going to do it without the rest of the pack.

“All right,” Stiles replies. “Thanks.”

Stiles knows that the werewolves could easily outrun him, but they allow him to set the pace. Batman runs next to him, tongue lolling out in a doggy grin, and he finds some of the tension melting away. He has the rest of the pack; it’s not just him and Scott anymore. Maybe that’s part of it, too.

Scott isn’t the entirety of his focus anymore, and their relationship is still evolving. They’re still figuring out what they’ll be to each other when they each have separate interests and relationships.

There aren’t a lot of people out and about at this early hour on a Saturday, but those who do see them and recognize his dad call out greetings. No one seems surprised to see Boyd and Isaac with them, and Stiles guesses that folks just assume that his dad is taking care of a couple of teenagers out of the goodness of his heart.

Their chosen route takes them past Tara’s place, and Stiles isn’t surprised to see her waiting out front with a travel mug in hand. “I’ll meet you back at your place,” Tara says. “I just need to pick up the donuts.”

His dad raises his eyebrows. “Are you managing me?”

“Always, sir,” Tara admits cheerfully. “I’m conspiring with Derek. He said it would be easier that way, and the donuts would still be warm.”

Noah snorts. “I see how it goes. My two right hands are ganging up on me.”

“We’re taking care of you,” Tara counters. “There is a difference.”

“Any news from Dave or Paul?” his dad asks.

“They’re sleeping the sleep of the exhausted, as far as I know,” Tara replies. “But I’ve alerted the patrols on what we’re looking for, and they’re going to keep an eye out.”

Stiles knows that’s a coded way of saying they’re going to look out for a body, and he rests a hand on the top of Batman’s head, seeking comfort. Batman noses Stiles’ leg, and it does help ground him.

Tara shoots him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry about your friend, Stiles.”

Stiles just nods, because there’s nothing to say.

“I’ll see you all in a bit,” Tara adds.

They finish up the run, without a stop by the donut shop, and his dad sends him up to shower first.

Stiles keeps it short, because he knows their hot water supply isn’t limitless, and then pulls on clean jeans and a t-shirt. He jogs down the stairs, and he heads for the kitchen, only to be stopped by Scott. “Hey, can we talk?”

Stiles hesitates, and then says, “Yeah, sure. We can go out into the backyard.”

Scott’s hands are shoved in his pockets as he faces Stiles on the back deck, his shoulders hunched. “Dr. Deaton asked me not to tell you anything. He knows about Moira, and he said she’s dangerous.”

Stiles blinks, because that’s not what he’d expected at all. “Excuse me, what?”

Scott scratches the back of his neck. “The way he explained it, it sounded reasonable at the time, you know? I mean, I know Moira is great, but you’re her main focus.”

“Because she’s my teacher,” Stiles replies. “She came here specifically to teach me.”

“Yeah, and that makes sense,” Scott says. “But the way Dr. Deaton put it, it—it’s stupid.”

Stiles really isn’t sure what to say to that. It’s clear that Deaton had attempted to cut Scott off from the pack. And then he has a sinking realization. “Did you tell him about the pack meeting? The one where I called you out?”

Scott shifts guiltily. “Maybe.”

“How much have you told him about pack business?” Stiles demands.

“I don’t know,” Scott admits. “Sometimes we’ll just be talking, you know? And it hasn’t been the same since you quit lacrosse.”

Stiles feels Batman press up against his leg, and Stiles welcomes his presence. Stiles tips his head back and wishes that he had more patience. “Are you seriously jealous of me?”

Scott shifts. “I don’t know. Not really? But it’s like you have this grand destiny or something, and that doesn’t really include me anymore.”

“I love you,” Stiles says after a long moment. “You’re my brother. I understand that this whole situation has been difficult for you, but we all have our issues. I strongly suggest that when the pack therapist gets here, you actually talk about how you’re feeling.”

“I want to make things right with you, Stiles,” Scott protests. “And I don’t need a therapist.”

Stiles snorts. “Therapy is great, dude, and I guaran-damn-tee that everyone in this pack needs some, including you.”

“I don’t!” Scott protests. “I’m fine.”

“So fine that you cut yourself off from the pack,” Stiles counters. “Sure. You keep telling yourself that.”

Scott glares at him. “It wasn’t on purpose. I was still spending time with you guys. We’re still in classes together, we still eat lunch together, and I have cross country with Isaac and Boyd.”

Stiles nods. “But you felt the bond when I first created it, right? You knew what a strong bond felt like?”

Scott shuffles his feet. “I mean, not really? It actually faded pretty quickly. I just thought that was normal.”

Stiles blinks, and everything starts to shift into place. “How soon?”

“Maybe a few days?” Scott asks. “Shortly after Kate kidnapped me, anyway.”

Stiles points at him. “Don’t move.”

He goes back into the house. “Derek! I need you.”

Derek wears a frown as he steps outside, but he also carries a couple of donuts. “I didn’t want you to miss out,” he tells Stiles, handing him a butterscotch Long john. Scott gets a plain glazed, even though Stiles knows that Derek knows that Scott prefers jelly or a cinnamon sugar.

Clearly, Derek is still irritated with Scott as well, and he’s being petty. Stiles approves.

“I was the one to create your pack bond,” Stiles says without preamble. “Has it faded?”

Derek frowns. “No, and I would have said something if it had. That might have something to do with Noah naming me his right hand, since I was pretty invested in things at that point. Pack bonds tend to go both ways. Both sides have to put the work in.”

“Scott says his started fading after Kate kidnapped him,” Stiles says.

Derek is already shaking his head. “No, that doesn’t make any sense. Maybe after a few months, but that would have required…” He trails off and looks at Stiles. “I’m going to grab my uncle’s laptop. Scott, how long has Deaton been in Beacon Hills?”

Scott looks terribly confused. “I don’t know. At least ten years? Maybe more?”

“So, long enough for Peter to possibly know his schtick, if he has one,” Derek says. “I’ll start looking.”

“What the hell?” Scott asks. “Why would Peter know anything about Deaton?”

“Because Peter liked collecting information, and he was the pack’s left hand before the fire,” Stiles says patiently. “Even if you hadn’t invested anything into the pack, or your bond, it should have lasted longer than it did, unless there was some sort of outside influence. Deaton clearly knows more about the supernatural than he wants to admit, ergo, Deaton may have chosen to interfere without you knowing about it.”

It’s nothing that Moira hadn’t guessed the prior night, or that Stiles hadn’t figured out after a good night’s sleep, but the timeline is far more suspicious now. If it hadn’t been a recent thing, if Deaton—or someone else, but most likely Deaton—had started interfering in Scott’s bond with the pack almost immediately, then it could explain a lot.

Scott is finally starting to get it. “But that would mean that he tried to cut me off from the pack months ago!”

“That is what that would mean,” Stiles replies, not without sympathy.

Scott shakes his head, and then shoves half his donut into his mouth, clearly upset.

“I’ll get the computer and start a search,” Derek says, squeezing Stiles’ shoulder. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

Stiles focuses on his own donut as Scott processes. “I hate this,” Scott says, once he’s finished, starting out into the backyard. “I don’t—Stiles, I don’t think I ever would have texted back if… I feel it now, and I wonder how I missed it before.”

“Magic is a tool, Scott.” Moira steps into the backyard, and Stiles is glad, because he has no idea how to respond to him. “It can be used for great good, great evil, and many things that exist somewhere in between.”

“Then what did Deaton use it for?” Scott demands. “If it really was him.”

He mutters that last bit, but Stiles knows that denial will fade, especially if they get proof.

“I don’t know him well enough to say,” Moira says gently. “As I said, he may have had the best of intentions, but that’s what the road to hell is paved with.”

Scott stares at the ground, and then he glances up, his face set in grim lines. “All right, I’m going to need proof that it was him, but if it was, I’m not going back, and I don’t want him to stay in Beacon Hills, because he’s a danger to the pack.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Moira promises. “But I don’t know what that will look like.”

Scott just nods, then he looks at Stiles. “You were right about the pack therapist. Thanks for last night.”

“I want you in the pack, Scott,” Stiles says with some asperity. “It’s not your fault that your boss has ulterior motives.”

Scott breaks out into a quick grin. “Now, there’s an SAT word.”

The sign of his usual good humor is welcome, and Stiles grins back. “We’ll get there, dude.”

“Sure, we will,” Scott replies.

He goes back inside the house, but Moira stands next to Stiles, looking fresh-faced and well-rested, even though Stiles knows it had been a really long night for her as well. But maybe that’s just part of her magic.

Stiles feels something harden inside his chest. “How big of a problem is Alan Deaton?”

“Spoken like a true emissary,” Moira says approvingly. “And the answer is—we’re going to find out, and then we’re going to take the appropriate action. I believe that Deaton is a druid, and as we’ve discussed, druids always have their own views. They protect the ‘balance,’ and it’s possible that Deaton views this pack as creating an imbalance.”

Stiles frowns. “He’d want the pack to stay weak and vulnerable to attack?”

“A druid might see your dad’s decisive action against the Argents, and the fact that he’s been able to run the hunters out of town as an imbalance,” Moira admits. “I can’t say for certain, but it’s possible.”

“The trials are still a year or more in the future,” Stiles objects. “I mean, once that’s done—if they get off—they could easily come back here.”

Stiles doesn’t think they’ll be acquitted—at least he hopes not—but he’s a pessimist at heart. He probably wouldn’t mind so much if Allison gets off, but if Kate and Gerard do…

“If Gerard and Kate Argent are acquitted, they will not survive to return here,” Moira says grimly.

Stiles feels those words in his bones. “I didn’t think we killed people.”

“You aren’t killing anyone,” Moira replies, with a bit of humor. “But there are some people who simply cannot be given another opportunity to harm us.”

Stiles likes the way she puts it. “Okay.”

And he feels better, because he believes that Moira is as good as her word.

The house has pretty much cleared out by the time Stiles goes back inside. Isaac and Boyd have their weekend jobs, while Erica has declared that she and Cora are going to be BFFs, and will be hanging out at her house. Melissa wanted to talk to Scott alone, and insisted that he call out sick to the animal clinic. That leaves his dad, Moira, and Derek, and Stiles is glad of it. He doesn’t really want the others listening in to his session with Jack, but he had underestimated Moira’s commitment to his privacy, because she wards the door for sound, giving Stiles complete privacy.

Stiles has been doing most of his sessions through telehealth, because it’s easier. His dad doesn’t want him driving himself, because Roscoe isn’t entirely reliable.

Jack’s face appears on the screen of Stiles’ laptop, and Batman rests his muzzle on Stiles’ leg. “I hear you had a very rough night,” Jack says, blue eyes warm with sympathy.

Stiles blows out a breath. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“Why don’t you start from the beginning, and just tell me what happened? Then we can talk about your feelings,” Jack suggests.

Stiles begins a recital of events, starting with getting ready to go to the party, and Scott’s comments about not being able to reach his full potential, going to the party and seeing Heather disappear, the ritual with the Mahealanis, forming Cora’s pack bond, and then what happened with Scott.

When Stiles gets to the end, he can’t quite believe that all of that had happened in the course of a single night. It reminds him of the nights right after Scott was bitten, when it seemed like events were rushing along without a chance to stop and think.

At least last night, Stiles had immediately called his dad.

“First, let’s focus on what went well last night,” Jack says. “So, good job on calling your dad and Moira, and letting them help you.”

Stiles manages a smile. “Thanks. That’s what Moira said, too.”

“The other thing that you did really well was in setting a boundary, and not immediately restoring Scott’s pack bond, even though you were pressured to do so,” Jack says. “Let’s talk about why you eventually agreed after you took a breath.”

Stiles takes a deep breath. “Because I thought it put the entire pack in danger if I didn’t.”

“It wasn’t about Scott, then,” Jack says.

Stiles shakes his head. “No, and if it had been, I don’t know what I would have done. I mean, I love Scott, but it doesn’t really seem like he wants to be a part of the pack, except when he does.”

Jack hums thoughtfully. “That may be, but may I offer a different perspective? One that you don’t have to adopt, of course.”

“That’s why I’m talking to you,” Stiles says wryly.

“Could Scott be feeling especially vulnerable because one of the key relationships in his life is changing?” Jack posits. “And that has made him vulnerable to the manipulations of others?”

“Can I be really selfish for a minute?” Stiles counters.

Jack smiles. “Of course, you can. This is your therapy session, Stiles.”

“I don’t care,” Stiles bursts out. “I feel like Scott’s needs have come first. Scott lost his girlfriend, and never mind that she helped kidnap me. I decided to stop doing an activity that I wasn’t good at and wasn’t enjoying much, and Scott used the opportunity to sling a lacrosse ball at me at full power. Scott talks about how he can’t reach his full potential here, when him becoming an alpha would probably mean my dad is dead! Scott allows his pack bond to be corrupted, and I’m supposed to fix it. It’s all about Scott.”

Jack is nodding. “Those are all reasonable emotions and reactions to the circumstances.”

Stiles realizes that he’s crying, and he hastily wipes his eyes. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Jack replies. “This is a safe space. Are you upset with Moira for asking that you renew Scott’s pack bond?”

Stiles shakes his head. “She was right, and the pack was vulnerable if Scott’s pack bond wasn’t strong.”

“But that still means that your emotional needs took a back seat to the needs of the pack in that moment,” Jack counters. “Remember that we talked about setting good boundaries, and how important that is when serving as an emissary.”

Stiles takes a deep breath. “Yeah, but this was about the pack, and other than being upset, I was fine. And then I retreated to my bedroom and just snuggled with Batman. That was my boundary, and everyone respected it.”

“Who, in that moment, made sure that you were in a good place emotionally?” Jack asks.

“Derek,” Stiles says immediately. “He made sure I had space to make my own decision.”

Jack smiles. “Did that help or hurt your crush on him?”

Stiles snorts. “I don’t know. I mean, we’ve talked about this. Derek is off-limits until I’m 18 anyway, and we need a good working relationship for the pack’s sake. But I trust him, and he has my back, so even if nothing ever comes of it, I’m fine with it.”

“Good,” Jack says warmly. “That sounds very mature, Stiles.”

Stiles shrugs. “I’d rather get my rocks off elsewhere, anyway. I don’t want a serious relationship right now. I have too much on my plate.”

“That is a healthy point of view,” Jack says. “But I hope you leave yourself open to a relationship if an opportunity comes along.”

Stiles scrubs his hands over his face. “I was supposed to have sex with Heather. I was looking for a condom when I felt the dark magic.”

Jack hisses. “That must be very difficult for you to process.”

“I have this weird feeling like it’s my fault,” Stiles confesses in a rush. “And I know it’s not, but we’re pretty sure she was targeted because she was a virgin, so if I hadn’t been committed to safe sex…”

“Let’s interrogate that a bit,” Jack says. “Because I know that you know that’s not true, and that you made the right call to get protection.”

Stiles sighs. “Yeah, I know.”

They talk about survivor’s guilt, and some techniques for dealing with it. Jack also checks in on how Stiles is feeling about his dad.

“He’s the best,” Stiles says immediately. “He’s been great.”

“Who else do you have a relationship with that’s not a source of stress?” Jack asks.

Stiles takes a breath. “Erica, and Isaac and Boyd went running with Dad and me this morning. I think it was a signal.” He pauses. “And I know Moira has my back, but she also has to act for the good of the pack.”

“Does that make you conflicted?” Jack asks.

Stiles takes a moment to think about it. “No, because I want to be her when I grow up, and I know that she’s going to act for the good of the pack, and that includes me.”

“But if you do feel conflict, this is a safe place to talk about it,” Jack insists. “You know that, right?”

Stiles nods. “I do.”

“Good,” Jack says. “Anything else we need to address?”

Stiles shakes his head. “I don’t think so?”

“Okay, then let’s review breathing techniques,” Jack says.

It’s typically how Jack ends a session, giving Stiles a moment of pause before he concludes a session, so he can move into the rest of his day as unburdened as possible.

“Call if you need me,” Jack orders before they sign off. “I know there’s hope for Heather, but…”

“There really isn’t,” Stiles says soberly. “And I know that. I’ll call if I need another emergency session.”

“Hang in there, Stiles,” Jack says. “I know things are rough right now, but I do believe that it will get better.”

Stiles might be a pessimist at heart, but he glances down at Batman’s soulful brown eyes, and there’s some small part of him that agrees.

He has his dad, and the pack, Batman, and the protection of his coven “Thanks. I really hope so.”

it’s the best he can do for now.

~~~~~

When it comes time for Stiles’ therapy appointment, Noah sets Stiles up in his office, and Moira does the same thing she’d done in the past to ward the door for sound. A white noise generator will not be nearly as effective.

Derek has his own mission, though, and he wants to know if his uncle had anything on Deaton.

He’s working his way through the various dossiers when he finally stumbles across the one Peter had put together on the town veterinarian. Derek feels a chill when he confirms that Deaton had been their pack’s emissary.

Moira sits down next to him at the dining room table and rests a hand on his arm. “Is it as I suspected?”

“You knew he was the pack’s emissary,” Derek says flatly.

Moira sighs. “I—I didn’t know, but druids tend to be secretive, and you didn’t know his identity. Not all druids, by the way. I’ve met a few good ones who didn’t pretend to be divorced from human emotion and connection.”

“So, no one really knew, but you suspected as soon as you realized someone had eroded Scott’s pack bond,” Derek says. “And Deaton has been filling Scott’s head with ideas that he should be an alpha.”

“Other than the pack, there’s no one else Scott spends that much time with, and I include Mel with the pack,” Moira agrees.

“Did he get my family killed?” Derek asks, a hot anger rising up in his chest.

Moira shakes her head. “There’s only one way to find out.”

Derek looks at her, alarmed. “We’re just—going to go talk to him?”

“I’ve found that being direct is often the best course of action,” Moira replies. “And a druid like Deaton is going to hate the exposure. But before we do that, go through your uncle’s files and find out if Peter wrote anything about the Nemeton.”

Derek frowns. “You think Deaton had something to do with the Nemeton being cut down?”

“Perhaps,” Moira replies. “Or perhaps he’s here because someone cut it down, and he had room to act. Let’s see if your uncle’s files give us an idea, because then we might be able to figure out a plan of attack.” She pauses. “Or a better plan than what I currently have, which is to shove a knife in his gut and twist it until he tells us what we want to know.”

Derek hasn’t heard Moira use that fierce of a tone before, and he suspects that there’s a lot going on that he’s not quite aware of. “Yeah, okay,” Derek replies. “I should have been mining the data all along.”

Moira snorts. “It’s not as though you’ve had a lot of free time, Derek, not with pack business and school. Don’t beat yourself up.”

“That’s kinda my thing,” Derek admits.

“I know, boyo,” Moire replies. “Which is why you really need therapy, quite frankly. Let me know what you find out.”

With those directions, Derek can do a deep search for the Nemeton, druidic tree, or whatever else makes the most sense.

He finally finds a document that seems to be a timeline of his family in Beacon Hills, and it indicates that the Nemeton had been cut down shortly after Derek’s birth, mostly on the advice of the pack emissary. The idea had been that the Nemeton had been drawing dark creatures, including omega werewolves that put the pack in danger.

Other than the bullet points with events right up to the fire, there are notes from Peter. The list of events includes the werewolf summit where Deucalion was blinded, Paige’s death, the murder of Ennis’ beta, and Peter’s thoughts.

Deaton thought cutting down the Nemeton would help. It hasn’t. I don’t trust that motherfucker.

Hunters are getting bolder. I warned Talia about the Argents, but she doesn’t want to listen.

I think Derek learned an important lesson today.

That comment is appended to Paige’s death, and Derek wonders what lesson his uncle had wanted him to learn. Was it supposed to teach him not to date outside the pack? That shit happens? Not to listen to Peter? Not to disobey his parents?

Derek just can’t figure it out. He knows that his uncle had been manipulative, and Paige’s death is when he’d started to understand that, but he can’t understand the motivation.

“Are you okay?” Noah asks, sitting down next to him at the dining room table. “You seem distressed.”

Derek shakes his head. “I don’t know. I found a document Peter created, and it has a timeline of the Hale pack, including Paige’s death, and his notes.”

“May I?” Noah asks.

Derek just turns the laptop screen to face him.

Noah frowns as he reads it. “Wait. Didn’t you tell me that it was Peter who encouraged you to approach Ennis to bite Paige?”

Derek nods.

“So, he was doing it to teach you a lesson,” Noah says flatly. “And you have no idea what that lesson would be.”

“Something like that,” Derek agrees.

Noah just shakes his head. “Put it out of your mind, Derek. The man is dead, and unless he’s somehow resurrected, or he speaks from beyond the grave, you’ll never know.”

“I still blame him for Paige’s death,” Derek admits. “I knew my mom would never offer her the bite, but if I’d just told her the truth…”

Noah squeezes his shoulder. “I think it’s fair to blame Peter. You were a child, and he was an adult, who should have had your best interests in mind.”

Derek is starting to understand how much had been taken from him as he watches Noah with the younger pack members. Laura had been protective of him, but had also chivvied him into adulthood as quickly as possible. Derek hasn’t been a child since Paige’s death.

“I’ll go grab Moira,” Noah says.

“Where’s everyone else?”

“Mel wanted to speak with Scott privately, and the other three had to work,” Noah replies. “Dave and Paul said they’re bringing dinner over for everybody.”

“Do we trust them to do that?” Derek manages to joke.

Noah barks a laugh. “We’re going to find out. If it’s terrible, Stiles will have to choose a new favorite deputy.”

Derek raises his eyebrows. “I’ve heard rumors that Mark can cook. Can we recruit him?”

“I think he’s pretty happy being pack-adjacent, but I could request cooking lessons, or you or Stiles could,” Noah says. “Mark likes you two a lot.”

“I get why Stiles, but why me?” Derek asks, confused.

Noah just shakes his head. “Call it transitive fondness for your parents, both of whom he knew. If you want to talk to him about them, I’m sure he’d be okay with that.”

“I wouldn’t mind going on a ride-along with him,” Derek admits. “It seems like he’d have a different perspective.”

Noah hesitates, then says, “I’m planning on pairing the two of your for your training period once you join us. I’ll assign Parrish to Tara.”

“Why?” Derek asks, mostly just curious.

“Mark has a lot of experience, and he can show you how to be a deputy without your werewolf senses,” Noah replies. “Tara is patient and steady, and I think she’ll be a good match for Jordan.”

Derek nods slowly. “Yeah, for what it’s worth, I agree.”

Moira comes back, and says, “Let’s see what you found.”

Derek shows her the timeline, and the dossier Peter had gathered on Deaton.

“So, he was responsible for cutting the Nemeton down,” Moira murmurs. “A druid should know better, although it’s possible that he mistook the thing buried in the roots as the Nemeton.”

“Then he’s a shit druid,” Derek replies causticly.

Moira nods. “He would have known how to ward the property against fire, and he should have done so. It’s standard procedure, especially on a property where there are so many people, and so many children.”

Derek presses the heels of his hands into his eyes as he tries to take that in. “Fuck.”

“I’m so sorry, Derek,” Moira says. “I can take Noah with me to confront him if you want.”

Derek shakes his head. “No, I want to be there. Maybe seeing me—seeing the evidence of what he did—will shake the truth loose.”

Moira nods. “That’s your right, boyo. But let’s give it a little time. It would be best to go into this conversation with clear minds, and I know the pack therapist is arriving tomorrow. As long as Scott stays away from him, Deaton isn’t a threat.”

Derek can’t hear anything from Noah’s office, and even his sense of Stiles through the bond is muted. “You gave him privacy.”

“He just renewed the bond with Scott and that’s going to be fresh,” Moira replies. “This was the best option to allow Stiles to have as much privacy as possible.”

Derek knows that Moira is loyal to the pack, but she’s here for Stiles first and foremost. She’ll do whatever it takes to keep Stiles safe, and Derek finds that relieving.

Noah might be the Alpha, but Stiles is the heart of the pack in a very real way.

“Can I ask you a question?” Derek says.

“Of course,” Moira replies.

Derek takes a deep breath. “I don’t understand the role of an emissary. It seems that Deaton’s role in our pack is very different from yours, or what Stiles’ role will be.”

“Ah, yes,” Moira says. “I don’t want to disparage all druids, or packs that choose to use druids as emissaries. Other magic users can make mistakes, and they—or we—can turn to dark magic, especially if we’re pushed too far.”

She pauses, and Derek keeps his peace, seeing Noah standing in the doorway behind her, clearly interested in the conversation.

“I can see why the Hale pack would have been drawn to a druid emissary,” Moira finally says. “A druid will usually want to keep the pack at arm’s length, other than the Alpha. They want to remain anonymous. Other magic users might want to be more involved in pack business or making decisions for the pack.”

Some of the pieces are starting to fall into place for Derek. “My mom was a force of nature.”

“A druid makes sense for someone like your mom,” Moira says gently. “She was in control of her pack, and she wasn’t interested in outside input. To be fair, she didn’t need it. She was the Alpha of an established pack in a family territory.”

“She thought,” Derek mutters. “She could have accepted advice from other sources. I might not have been so unprepared.”

“We all make mistakes,” Moira replies. “Your mom made mistakes, but did she love you?”

“Without a doubt,” Derek says immediately.

Moira pats him on the shoulder. “That’s what you need to focus on.” She glances over her shoulder at Noah. “Now might be the time to talk about Stiles’ gifts.”

Noah sits down across from Moira. “I would agree.”

Moira takes a deep breath. “What you need to know is that there are a number of types of magic users. Many reject labels altogether, but there are two labels that have stuck under certain circumstances. Druids have their own label for a variety of reasons, and we can have a discussion about that at some later date. The second label is what’s important to our conversation right now, which is that of a spark.”

Derek has an idea of what a spark is, but he just knows that it’s incredibly dangerous—for Stiles.

“And what’s that?” Noah asks.

Moira takes a deep breath. “Let me use a sports analogy. Think about a baseball player who could play any position, from the catcher to the outfielder, equally well.”

Noah blinks. “You’re talking about a unicorn.”

“And that’s a spark,” Moira replies. “They are incredibly rare, and they can be incredibly powerful. Most magic users need ritual or ingredients or something else, like tradition. A spark needs none of that. They can do a lot with basically nothing but their own belief.”

“That’s how Stiles was able to get the handcuffs unlocked,” Noah murmurs. “And how he forced the omega to sleep.”

Moira nods. “There are two things to be wary of with a spark. One would be limiting their potential by making them doubt their abilities. The second would be letting them remain untrained.”

“Because they could potentially end the world,” Noah comments.

Moira shrugs. “Unlikely, unless they have a very good reason for doing so.”

Derek frowns. “What would be considered a good reason?”

“The death of a pack member, or an assault by the hunters,” Moira suggests. “There might be other circumstances, too, but those would be the two most foreseeable.”

Derek realizes just how powerful Stiles is. He had suspected as much, but getting confirmation signals just how dangerous Stiles could be. But another question pops into his mind. “How much danger is Stiles in?”

Moira glances at him. “That would entirely depend on who discovers Stiles is a spark.”

“What would they do if they knew?” Noah asks.

“They would either kill him or try to use him,” Moira replies bluntly. “But that’s part of why I plan to stay here until he’s fully trained, and capable of defending himself.”

Noah nods, appearing relieved. “I’m glad of that, to be honest.”

Whatever might have been said next, Stiles emerges from Noah’s office, looking worn out, his eyes red from crying.

“Are you okay?” Noah asks.

Stiles nods, resting a hand on the top of Batman’s head. “It was just a tough session, that’s all.”

“Why don’t you go take a nap?” Noah suggests. “You didn’t get much sleep last night.”

Stiles shrugs a little listlessly. “Yeah, that seems like a good plan.”

As Stiles heads upstairs, Derek’s phone chimes with a text, and he glances down. “Looks like Parrish has a move in date of next weekend.”

“Does he need help?” Noah asks immediately. “Because I can make sure he has it.”

“Yeah, he’s asking for my help, which I already promised,” Derek replies. “He’s renting a U-Haul, and I told him I’d help load and unload.”

“We’ll check in with the rest of the pack when they’re here tonight,” Noah replies. “Between all of us, we’ll make sure there’s plenty of help. It’s the least we can do for a future deputy.”

Derek nods, but he’s not surprised. Noah is the sort to take care of his people, or to take care of people who are going to be his. “I’ll let him know. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

He swiftly texts back, confirming that he would be helping, and that Noah is going to provide additional assistance.

Parrish’s response is immediate: tell him thank you!

“I’m just looking forward to having the extra help,” Noah comments when Derek passes that along.

Derek knows it’s more than that, but he’s looking forward to having a friend in town.

It might provide some much-needed balance.

Chapter 3

Noah ushers Dave and Paul into the house, both of them carrying giant crock pots, with Cocoa and Nibs close on Dave’s heels. “We took the easy way out and made chili,” Paul confesses. “Since we don’t have any vegetarians in the pack, one is chicken, and the other is beef.”

“I just appreciate you both cooking,” Noah replies. “It’s been a little bit crazy around here.”

“What, adding yet another person to the pack and the house?” Dave jokes. “I mean, that’s just another day ending in Y around here, sir.”

Noah sighs. “You make a good point, but it’s still been a bit much. Any word on the case?”

Neither of his deputies has to ask which case, since there’s really only one right now. “Not yet,” Paul replies. “Everyone is keeping an eye peeled for Heather, but… I mean, it’s one thing to believe in werewolves, but an evil druid who kidnapped a kid with no signs of a struggle?”

“You can see werewolves,” Moira comments as she enters from the kitchen where she’s been cutting up veggies for a tray. “What if you could see magic?”

All of a sudden, a wind starts whipping around the living room, lifting the furniture, and threatening to make a mess. Noah wants to protest, but he knows Moira well enough to know that she’s not going to destroy his house.

Sure enough, the wind dies down, and there’s no sign of anything having happened.

Dave blinks. “Yeah, okay. Magic is fun.”

Noah barks a laugh. “You could say that.”

“Okay, I’m going to plug this in,” Paul says, sounding a bit shell shocked. “In all my years…”

He wanders back to the kitchen just as Stiles thunders down the stairs. “I felt magic. What—“ He glances around. “Demonstration purposes?”

Moira smiles. “Demonstration purposes.”

Stiles blows out a breath. “Any word on Heather?”

Dave shakes his head. “Sorry, kid. No word, good or bad. I have a bag in the car with sides if you want to grab it.”

“Yeah, of course,” Stiles replies. He glances down at Batman. “Go play with your friends.”

That releases all three dogs, and they greet each other in a joyous reunion.

Noah knows that Batman has been fixed, but he thinks that a cross with Dave’s dog might yield good results. “Are you planning on breeding them?” Noah asks.

“Already have,” Dave admits. “Nibs is available as a stud, and is very much in demand. I haven’t bred Cocoa yet, but I’m considering it. They both have qualities that make them ideal as service animals or K-9s.”

“Are you interested in certifying them?” Noah asks. “Because I could get a grant for that.”

“They’re too old for the training at this point, although I’ve been training them as search and rescue dogs when I can. They’ll never be official, though. I can say that if you want a dedicated K-9 officer, talk to Deputy Waters. She worked with dogs in the military, and she’s always been good with animals.”

Noah nods. “Let see how your two do with searching for Heather tomorrow. I expect a missing persons report by then.”

Dave nods. “I’ll just go plug this in.”

Noah closes his eyes and concentrates. Scott is with Mel, and feeling contrite. Erica and Cora are at Erica’s house, and Noah gets the sense that they’re pleased with their current circumstances, whatever those happen to be. Boyd is finishing up his shift and is getting ready to head to the pack house with a sense of relief, and Isaac is much the same. Tara is on her way over, finagling a couple of hours of coverage out of Maria.

His pack is safe, his family is safe, and Noah shouldn’t feel relief, but he does, even knowing that there are others in serious danger.

“Do you need any help?” Stiles asks.

“Come help me finish cutting up the veggies,” Moira says, putting an arm around his shoulders. “How are you feeling?”

“A little tired,” Stiles admits. “The nap helped, though.”

“Good,” Moira replies. “You may not have realized it, but renewing Scott’s pack bond is complex magic that takes a lot of power. You’ve done it out of sheer instinct, but there are experienced magic users who would hesitate to do what you’ve done.”

Noah takes a breath, glancing over at Derek, who is apparently texting back and forth with Parrish. Derek is smiling, and Noah has to admit that he has a sense of pride that Derek has settled in so well, and that he’s made a friend. Noah has some idea of just how difficult that is for him, and he can see just how open Derek is becoming. It’s great to see.

“Not to interrupt,” Noah says. “But we need some ice from the store for the drinks.”

Derek immediately tucks his phone in his pocket. “Yeah, I’m happy to go. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

“Thanks, Derek,” Noah replies. “And I’m glad you made a friend.”

Derek frowns at him. “Okay, thanks, Dad.”

Noah just smirks at him, and Derek snorts as he grabs his keys. Noah enjoys giving the members of his pack a hard time, as long as it does no harm.

His phone chimes with a text, and Noah glances at the screen, seeing a text from Tara. Call me ASAP

Tara would know that they’re having a pack dinner that night, so she’d resort to using her cell phone, rather than the radio. Noah retreats to his office and calls her. “What have we got?” Noah asks.

“We found Heather’s body,” Tara replies. “She was out in the woods, and killed in the same manner as the first vic.”

Noah exhales sharply. It’s not a surprise, but it’s still terrible news. “Shit.”

“Yeah, I’ve already called Dr. Kelly, and he’s going to meet us at the morgue,” Tara replies. “And by ‘us,’ I mean me and Rossi. You should be with your kid.”

Noah rubs his eyes. “I should be the one to break the news to her parents.”

“Rossi already took care of that,” Tara says sympathetically. “Someone must have seen the ambulance and called them, because they showed up on the scene. Her dad broke past the police line before we could stop him.”

“Right, well, if anyone knows how to deliver bad news in a sensitive manner, it’s Mark,” Noah admits. “How did they take it?”

Tara hesitates. “About like you’d think since they lost their baby girl. I have to admit that it’s one of the reasons I never want to have kids.”

Noah winces, and then he feels a brief sense of alarm through the pack bond. He thinks it came from Derek, but other than that small ping, Derek seems fine—in a good mood, even.

“Are you okay, sir?” Tara asks. “That wasn’t offensive, was it?”

“I’m not offended,” Noah says. “And you’re not wrong. Children are a source of worry. Did you just feel something from Derek?”

“I’ve never felt the others as strongly as you do,” Tara admits. “I could probably locate any of the pack members in a pinch, but that’s about it.”

Noah blinks. “Did you feel the pack bond with Cora?”

Tara pauses and says, “I did, but in a vague way. I can tell you that she and Erica are together, but nothing other than that.”

“Okay, that’s helpful information,” Noah replies. “Thank you, and tell Mark thank you as well. I know death notifications are one of the hardest parts of the job.”

“You have to tell your kid,” Tara counters. “We know that’s going to be hard, too.”

“My kid already knows what the most likely outcome was going to be,” Noah replies. “Feel free to stop by for a bowl of chili if you get a break.”

Tara snorts. “Maybe, but I doubt we’ll have the time.”

“Then I’ll bring something to the station once we’ve wrapped up dinner,” Noah replies. “I think I need to be there, and I’ll leave Derek here.”

“Up to you, sir, but we can hold down the fort if you want to spend time at home,” Tara counters.

It’s not that Noah doesn’t believe that Tara and Mark can handle things, but he feels strongly that he needs to be at the station tonight. He can’t say why, but he’s learning to trust his instincts.

“I’ll see you later,” Noah says firmly.

He hangs up, and Noah braces himself for what’s to come. Stiles might know the most likely outcome, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy, or that he didn’t have hope.

Noah doesn’t have to call Stiles into his office, however. Stiles is standing outside the door when Noah opens it. “I already know,” Stiles says, and then steps directly into Noah’s proffered hug.

“I’m so sorry, kiddo,” Noah says.

“Has someone told her parents?” Stiles mutters into his shoulder.

Noah cups the back of Stiles’ head. “Someone notified them when the body was found, so Mark handled it. He didn’t have another choice.”

“Other than you, Tara and Mark are probably the best for that job,” Stiles murmurs, shudders running through his body. “Sorry. I know it’s not about me.”

“She was your friend,” Noah replies. “You’re entitled to be upset.”

“I hate this,” Stiles says.

“I know,” Noah replies. “It’s a terrible situation.”

Stiles pulls back and looks at him. “Did you feel the thing with Derek?”

“I did, but I don’t know what it was, and he feels fine now,” Noah replies. “Tara said that she could probably find members of the pack, but she doesn’t get the same sense through the pack bonds that we do.”

Stiles frowns. “That’s probably because of me and my magic. Maybe I should try to reinforce the bonds for everyone.”

“Talk to Moira about it first,” Noah advises. “That sounds like a huge undertaking, and may not be necessary. Tara seemed fine with it.”

Stiles nods unhappily. “I want to go to the funeral.”

“We’ll go together,” Noah promises, because it’s the least he can do. “Can you feel anything else from Derek?”

Stiles shakes his head. “No, and he’s heading back here with the ice, and seems fine.”

Noah ruffles his hair. “Okay, well, it must just have been a random thing. Let’s go see where we’re at for dinner prep.”

Erica and Cora have turned up, and they’re working under Moira’s direction to finish cutting up carrots and celery. Cora glances at them with a smile, subtly tilting her head, and Noah has to admit that between Erica taking the girl under her wing, and Stiles creating the pack bond, Cora seems a lot happier.

It’s still early days, but at least he’s not worried about a fight breaking out anymore.

“Where’s Derek?” she asks.

“I sent him out to get ice,” Noah replies. “He’ll be back shortly.”

“Everything okay at the station?” Paul asks.

“We can talk about it after dinner,” Noah replies. “But Tara and Mark have it under control.”

Dave and Paul seem to accept that at face value, and Noah is glad to have a solid team in the know who can be trusted to handle even the most difficult problems.

Boyd and Isaac are the next to arrive, each of them carrying a couple of bags of chips, and Noah asks, “Everything all right, boys?”

“Work was fine,” Boyd replies. “Nothing exciting happened.”

“Same,” Isaac admits. “Dave texted and said we needed chips.”

“We’re having chili,” Stiles says. “So, yes.”

Isaac gives Stiles a worried look. “You okay?”

Stiles just shakes his head. “They found Heather’s body.”

Isaac and Boyd both look immediately sympathetic. “I’m sorry,” Boyd says. “That sucks.”

Stiles just shrugs as Derek enters the house with two large bags of ice. “There are sodas in the car, too,” Derek says.

Isaac hands the chips to Stiles. “I’ll go grab them.”

Scott and Mel are the next to arrive, and Mel has two pans of brownies that smell divine, and Noah takes a deep breath. Things aren’t ideal, but at least his pack is safe for now.

Noah offers Mel a hug and murmurs, “How did it go?”

“Scott is going to tell Deaton that he has too much homework, and he’s worried about failing a class,” Mel replies. “At least for the next few days.”

“I think Moira is going to confront Deaton soon,” Noah replies. “With any luck, he’ll leave the territory.”

Mel pulls back. “Do you really think that’s likely?”

“I think if he knows what’s good for him, he will,” Noah says. “He’s a threat to my pack. I won’t tolerate his presence for long.”

“Fair enough,” Mel replies. “I’ll certainly sleep better once he’s gone. I don’t want to see Scott so upset again.”

Noah doesn’t want to see Stiles so upset again, but he knows that’s a futile hope. He understands what Moira had relayed to him.

Stiles might be the only one who can stop this Darach, and he’s likely to see and do things that will scar him.

But at least if Noah can get rid of Deaton, Stiles won’t have to worry about renewing Scott’s pack bond just because Deaton thinks he knows best.

~~~~~

Derek is mentally debating how much ice to get when he feels someone brush up against him. The store is fairly busy, so he’s not surprised, but something about the contact startles him, and he whirls, but sees no one there.

He shakes off the feeling, figuring that he’s just imagining things. After all, a murderous witch is running around killing virgins; there’s good reason for a little paranoia. He grabs two large bags of ice and puts them in the cart. He’s already grabbed several six-packs of sodas, knowing just how much soda the pack can guzzle down.

Derek feels fine at dinner that night. He enjoys a couple of bowls of chili, and hangs out with those who choose to stay. There doesn’t seem to be a real reason for everyone to be there, so Derek isn’t surprised when everyone scatters. Isaac and Boyd go back to their apartment, Erica heads home, and Cora prepares to bed down in Derek’s room.

She seems content, and Derek says, “How are you settling in?”

Cora sits cross-legged on the cot they’ve set up. “I want to go back to school.”

Derek blinks. “Okay. When do you want to start?”

“As soon as possible,” Cora replies. “And I want to be in Erica’s grade, even if I have to take tutoring or summer school, or whatever.”

Derek nods. “I have you set up on the family accounts now, so we can take tomorrow, get you registered, get supplies, and figure out what else we need to do.”

Cora pulls her knees into her chest and says, “Does Stiles’ magic always feel this warm?”

Derek raises his eyebrows. “You feel Stiles’ magic?”

“Don’t you?” Cora counters. “I think that was part of the problem before.”

“What do you mean?” Derek asks.

“It just felt—weird, and then he made the pack bond, and it was like…” Cora blows out a breath. “Before, it felt dangerous, and now it’s like the fire in a fireplace, just—cozy.”

Derek considers that analogy for a moment, and then says, “I would agree, actually. Although, Stiles’ magic wasn’t active when I first met him, so I guess I don’t have a comparison. But when Stiles formed the pack bond, it definitely felt cozy.”

“I’m sorry I was such a bitch about you not being the Alpha,” Cora says all in a rush. “I just didn’t think I could really belong to a pack if you weren’t. I didn’t even consider that an emissary could make the bond.”

“Well, I didn’t either, and then Stiles just went ahead and did it,” Derek says, amused. “In fact, I’m pretty sure that Moira has specifically said that no one would have attempted what he did on instinct.”

“He’s a spark, right?” Cora asks.

Derek gives her a look. “How did you know?”

Cora’s expression is deeply pitying. “Bro, didn’t you ever eavesdrop on Mom?”

“Not really?” Derek says. “Mom always said that Laura would be the next Alpha.”

Cora just looks at him. “And you didn’t think you might want more?”

“I was a kid,” Derek defends. “I had no idea what I wanted.”

Cora’s expression is judgmental. “Even I knew that I didn’t want to be Laura’s minion forever.”

Derek gives her a look. “Yeah, but you and Laura never got along, and I was pretty okay with not being in charge.”

“It’s a lot,” Cora agrees. “I see how much the Sheriff does. And he basically got the whole town on board.”

“At least the station, and we’re working on the hospital,” Derek admits. “And we have Moira, and the people she’s recruited. It’s more than I would have been able to do.”

“I really like the Sheriff,” Cora admits. “He feels safe.”

That’s it in a nutshell, and Derek says, “Yeah, I know. It’s why I asked him to kill Peter. It could have been me, but I didn’t think it was the right move.”

“I get it now,” Cora replies. “Now that I feel the bond.”

Derek raises his eyebrows. “I’m not as much of an idiot as you think.”

“I don’t think you’re an idiot,” Cora admits. “You figured out how to build a strong pack, even if you’re not the Alpha. And I really like Erica and Moira. They’re awesome.”

“You two seem to be thick as thieves,” Derek comments.

Cora shrugs. “I think she’s glad to have another girl in the pack, and we’re kind of figuring things out together.”

Derek gives her a look. “You don’t have to talk about it, but I hope you know that if and when you want to talk, you can.”

Cora’s expression shutters. “Yeah. I know. Maybe someday.”

“Okay,” Derek replies. “I’m going to sleep. We’ll get you registered for school and get supplies tomorrow.”

Cora smiles. “Thanks.”

Derek turns out the light, and goes to sleep hearing his sister’s heartbeat, feeling her through the pack bond in a new way.

Stiles really does build strong pack bonds; Derek can’t understand how Scott hadn’t noticed that his was so diminished.

The following morning, he takes Cora to the store to get basic supplies—a backpack, notebooks, folders, pens and pencils, all of it. Derek also takes her to a department store to get more clothing, knowing that what Moira had purchased was a stop-gap measure. When Cora expresses interest in makeup and nail polish, Derek just shrugs. “Go crazy. We have the money. You’ll have an allowance after this, because we need to safeguard our funds, but right now, let’s just focus on getting everything you need.”

Cora gives him a bright, quick smile. “Thanks, Derek.”

Derek is beginning to understand that a lot of Cora’s anger had been because she felt insecure. Now that she’s secure in the pack bond, a lot of the anger has dissipated. What remains is aimed at the alpha pack, but most of them are dead. Derek just hopes that she continues to settle, and that the pack therapist can help with the rest.

While Cora is in the changing room, trying on a few pairs of jeans, a young woman approaches him. She’s pretty, and Derek feels a vague uneasiness, but that quickly dissipates. She’s really pretty, and Derek finds himself smiling at her.

“Is that your sister?” she asks.

“Yeah, it is,” Derek replies. “I’m Derek Hale.”

“Jennifer Blake,” she replies, holding out a hand for him to shake. He has a strange feeling when he grips her hand, almost like what he’d felt at the grocery store the previous day, but that also dissipates almost immediately. “What is it that you do?”

Derek says, “I’m a student right now, and attending the police academy. What about you?”

“I teach high school English,” Jennifer replies.

“That’s great,” Derek replies.

Jennifer smiles at him. “You know, if your sister has any trouble with her English classes, you could give me a call. I offer private tutoring as well.”

“Sure,” Derek replies. “I’m happy to exchange numbers.”

He programs his number into her phone, and doesn’t question it when she says, “Sorry I have to run. I’ll be in touch, though.” He doesn’t even think about the fact that he hadn’t gotten her number in return.

She’s walking away when Cora exits the changing room, and his sister frowns. “Who was that?”

“Jennifer Blake,” Derek replies. “She’s a teacher, and she said she offered private tutoring. She seemed nice.”

Cora stares after her. “I don’t like her.”

“You didn’t even meet her,” Derek objects. “I don’t see how you could dislike her.”

“I just don’t,” Cora replies. “I don’t think you should contact her.”

Derek feels his back go up, but he knows that arguing with his sister will do no one any good. “I don’t even have her number. It was just a chance encounter anyway.”

Cora doesn’t look as though she believes him, but she finally shrugs. “Okay.”

Derek had forgotten that it was the weekend, and the school would be closed. They would need to Monday morning to register Cora, but that will be easy enough. Derek has established her identity, and he has her vital documents to get her enrolled.

When they get back to the house, they walk into the living room and find Moira there with Stiles, and another woman that Derek has never met. “I see you two were successful,” Moira says, glancing at their shopping bags. She gives Derek a sharp look. “Are you feeling okay, Derek?”

“I feel great,” Derek says easily. “We had a good time today.”

Moira doesn’t appear convinced, but she nods. “Derek, Cora, this is Sabra Rubens. Sabra is the pack therapist that Jack recommended. She’s here to do some ground work before she starts the actual therapy.”

Sabra stands and shakes Derek’s hand, then Cora’s. She’s a dark-skinned woman with a waterfall of braids and round cheeks, her eyes a startling shade of hazel. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” Sabra says. “Moira and Stiles have been telling me a little bit about your situation, but I’d love to get your perspectives.”

Derek hesitates. “Shouldn’t we do this privately?”

“No, the way I work is to ensure everything is out in the open,” Sabra says. “Everyone has secrets, and I’m not advocating for revealing all of them to the group at large, but your feelings about the pack are relevant to the other members. From what Jack said, those are the feelings that have been allowed to fester, and perhaps allowed this person to exploit a vulnerability.”

Cora sprawls out on the floor. “Yeah, okay, I’m game.”

Stiles nods at Derek, giving tacit approval, as though sensing Derek’s hesitation.

“I realize that you don’t know me,” Sabra says. “And you have no reason to trust me. I don’t have any interest in your pack other than to help you to function better.”

Derek sits down next to Stiles, in a subtle pledge of allegiance. Noah, as the Alpha, is his first loyalty, but Stiles, as the emissary, is his second. Derek wonders what might have happened had Deaton been as invested in the pack as Stiles is.

He doesn’t think there ever would have been a fire.

Sabra raises an eyebrow and just smiles. “It’s important that the pack hierarchy be on the same page, and it seems that you are. That’s good.”

Derek glances at Stiles. “Our relationship hasn’t been an issue since Stiles created the pack bonds.”

“And you, Cora?” Sabra asks.

“Same,” she admits. “When I first arrived, I was unsettled, for sure, because I didn’t get it. I didn’t know the Sheriff, and Stiles’ magic felt—it felt like a forest fire. Then he created the pack bond, and I felt the Sheriff, and now his magic feels—cozy.”

Sabra’s eyes glow beta-gold. “I would like to feel your magic, Stiles.”

Stiles glances at Moira, who nods. “Go ahead, Stiles. Remember how I told you that magic and werewolves don’t often mix? Sabra is someone with a small gift, which she can use in limited circumstances.”

“What should I show her?” Stiles asks, and he sounds nervous.

“Show her something beautiful, mo chroi,” Moira says.

Stiles hesitates, and then he opens his hand, and a flame flickers to life. It doesn’t just burn one color, though. It burns the colors of the rainbow flag.

Sabra laughs. “A spark, then. I wondered. Jack was very insistent that I drop everything and come here, because he thought I’d find a pleasant surprise.”

Derek can see the realization in Stiles’ eyes. “You were a spark, too.”

“I took the bite to save my life,” Sabra says. “And I don’t regret it for a moment, but it does mean that my magical gifts are far more limited than they might have been.”

“So, if I were bitten…” Stiles begins, and then trails off.

Sabra shrugs. “I don’t know. I was still young, and I hadn’t started my training yet. Maybe if I were further along, it would have ben different. Not taking the bite is not doing your pack a disservice.”

Stiles nods and looks at his hand. “So, I should focus on my magic.”

“You can do more for them that way,” Sabra replies. “And I agree with Cora: your magic does feel cozy. I want a s’more now.”

Stiles’ palm lights in a regular fire, and Derek can feel the heat. “We can accommodate that.”

“Enough, young spark,” Moira says, although she sounds amused more than anything else. “Showing off is unnecessary.”

“It’s very necessary,” Sabra replies. “I’m sorry, Moira. I don’t mean to undercut your authority, but Stiles will be the emissary of the pack, and I suggest that perhaps his power and his destiny is causing jealousy and unrest.”

Stiles slumps. “That’s not my fault!”

“No, it’s not,” Sabra says immediately. “But that doesn’t mean the undercurrents aren’t there. That’s what I’m here to find out.” She turns to look at Derek. “What about you?”

“I asked Noah to be the Alpha,” Derek says. “I believed that he would be the best choice, the one most likely to unite the pack members.”

Sabra smiles. “So, this is the pack you’ve chosen, much like your sister. You just did it in a slightly different way.”

Derek appreciates that framing, because that’s exactly what he’d done. “Yeah.”

Sabra nods. “From what I’ve heard so far, that was a wise and selfless action on your part, Derek. It’s no wonder that the Alpha selected you as his right hand with the home pack. Who is his right hand at the station?”

“Tara Graeme,” Derek replies. “We get along well.”

“His left hand in the pack?” Sabra asks.

“Deputy Dave Anders,” Derek replies. “He’s left hand at the station, too. Paul could do it, but Dave was a sniper in the Army, so he’s well suited to be left hand for both halves.”

“And you feel the two sides of the pack are well integrated?” Sabra asks.

Derek glances at Stiles, because he’s not sure how to answer that. For his part, it seems so, but he’s been oblivious to undercurrents before.

“The station will follow my dad through hell,” Stiles says. “And I might be a little shit, but I’m their little shit. Derek is considered their rookie. The rest of the pack is considered part of the station, too.”

“So, the larger, older pack, serves the younger,” Sabra says. “That isn’t uncommon in situations such as this one.”

“What situations?” Stiles asks eagerly, clearly curious.

Sabra smiles. “There are a number of packs that have a mixture of first responders and other pack members. Roles are duplicated as a result, with varying results. I’ll want to assess the pack structure at the station as well, but that bodes well, based on what you’ve told me.”

“The station pack works well,” Stiles says. “Dad is the sheriff, and no one wants his position, so there’s no rivalry.”

Derek can’t disagree. “It’s the home pack where there might be some feelings of jealousy.”

“Not entirely surprising, when the home pack is mostly made up of teenagers,” Sabra says with a dimpled smile. “Well, that gives me a good place to start.” She looks between them and hums. “But I see that you two are on the same page, and that’s good.”

Stiles glances at Derek and suddenly grins. “Well, we haven’t always been, but I like to think that I grew on Derek, like a fungus.”

“You’re not wrong about that,” Derek admits. “But honestly, once Noah figured everything out, he just kind of became the Alpha, and it was—it was a relief.”

Sabra gives him a sympathetic smile. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Derek, but you’re still young, and alphas almost always do better if they take the position when they’re over the age of 30.”

“I know that,” Derek says. “And I knew it would be easier for others to follow Noah than it would be for them to follow me. I don’t know what I would have done if Noah hadn’t presented as an option.”

“We’ll probably never know,” Sabra says. “But it seems to have mostly worked out. Cora, anything to add?”

Cora shakes her head. “No, I like the pack, and I like being back in Beacon Hills. Erica is probably my favorite.”

“Hey, now!” Derek protests.

Cora raises her eyebrows. “Do you want to paint my nails or do a makeover?”

“I really don’t,” Derek says immediately. “Taking you shopping for the things you need is pretty much my limit.”

“That’s why Erica is my favorite,” Cora says smugly.

“All right, the rest of the pack is coming for dinner, and I have a crock pot full of Bolognese sauce,” Moira announces. “Stiles, you want to help me with the garlic bread?”

“Sure,” Stiles says and pats Derek on the shoulder, then pauses. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay, dude?”

“I feel fine,” Derek insists. “Why?”

Stiles just shakes his head. “I don’t know. Never mind. As long as you’re good.”

Derek nods, but he wonders what the others are seeing that he’s not.

~~~~~

Sabra Rubens, the pack therapist, comes by the station first to meet with Noah privately in his office. “Thank you for coming,” Noah says. “I know I’m pulling you away from other clients.”

She shakes her head. “I appreciate that, Sheriff, but from what Jack has told me, and from what I know about Moira, Stiles needs a stable pack.”

“How much do you know?” Noah asks.

“I know that Stiles is special, and what you’ve built here is worth protecting from outside influences,” Sabra says carefully. “And I’ll leave it at that.”

Noah nods. “Do you want the rest of the station pack over for dinner tonight?”

“I do,” Sabra replies. “I realize that might be inconvenient, but I think it’s important to get a feel for things.”

Noah nods. “All right. I’ll invite them, and I’ll make sure they know it’s not optional.”

Sabra smiles. “I look forward to it, Sheriff. I plan on meeting with you all today, and then observing your pack over the course of the week. Next weekend, we’ll have our first intensive.”

Noah draws in a breath. “Sounds good.”

When Sabra leaves, Noah gets on the pack group text to let everyone know that there’s a dinner, and unless there’s a very good reason, they should be present. He gets an acknowledgment from everyone other than his deputies, so he’s not terribly surprised when there’s a knock on his office door.

Noah raises his eyebrows as Dave, Paul, and Tara all brace him. It’s late in the shift, and they’re all on days for a change.

“I really don’t think that we need a pack therapist, sir,” Tara says, standing across from his desk with her arms crossed. “We’re functioning just fine.”

“We are here,” Noah agrees. “But the station pack and my family pack are two halves of a whole, and you three are involved in both. Even if all you do is say that everything is fine, I still want you present.” Dave opens his mouth, and Noah cuts him off. “That’s non-negotiable, Dave. You’re the left hand for both halves, so suck it up.”

Dave sighs audibly. “I figured you’d say that.”

Noah looks at Tara. “And you’re the right hand here.”

Tara groans. “I hate drama.”

“I’ll make popcorn, and you’ll survive,” Noah says dryly. “Paul, I’m sure you’ll be there to support your fellow deputies.”

Paul groans. “Yeah, yeah. Pretty sure I’m contractually obligated to be there.”

Noah glances between Dave and Paul. “Something you want to tell me?”

“Private exchange of vows,” Dave says firmly. “But when we’re ready to take it more public, we’ll throw a big party. That won’t be until it’s legal for everyone.”

“All right, fair enough,” Noah says. “I’ll be happy to celebrate with you both when that day comes.”

Dave grins. “Thanks, sir. That means a lot. Do you know what Moira is making for dinner?”

“She said something about a giant vat of Bolognese,” Noah replies. “I’m assuming that means pasta.”

“I’ll put up with a lot for Moira’s cooking,” Paul admits. “Better than either of us can do.”

Dave inclines his head. “True enough.”

“Better than I want to do,” Tara admits. “I’ll be there. At least I’m getting a good meal out of it.”

They haven’t had any additional bodies drop, but there’s confirmation from Dr. Kelly that both of their victims had died in the exact same way—a blow to the head, strangulation, and cutting the throat. To Noah, it’s bizarre. Any one of those methods could have ended the victims’ lives, so the only conclusion is that it’s highly ritualized.

If Moira is correct, they’re just waiting on a third victim at this point, and Noah is expecting to hear about it any day.

Until that happens, though, Noah isn’t sure where to even begin to search for the perpetrator. So far, there’s been no evidence, other than the bodies. If his kid weren’t magic, he might start to hate it.

At the end of the shift, they all head home to change. Noah locks his gun in the safe i, and changes into jeans and a t-shirt. Once he’s comfortable, he heads to the living room where Sabra is sitting on the floor with Erica and Cora, and Cora is patiently painting Erica’s nails.

“You’re really good at that,” Sabra says.

“I’m a little torn,” Cora says. “I like doing this sort of thing, but I figure that I should probably do something a little more ambitious.”

“Why?” Erica asks bluntly. “We could open our own salon and offer werewolf-friendly products. I don’t know, it’s a thought.”

Cora pauses. “I like that idea. I could get a business degree, and an aesthetician license.”

Erica grins. “Same. We have time to think about it, but we’d do great.”

“Does Beacon Hills even have a spa?” Cora asks. “Because we could be filling a real need there.”

She finishes Erica’s nails, then turns to Sabra. “Are you next?”

Sabra holds up her hands, displaying perfectly groomed nails in a bright shade of red. “I’m good.”

“Your loss,” Cora says easily.

“But I can do patterns, if you want,” Sabra offers.

“Oh, will you show me?” Cora asks eagerly.

Noah can see that Sabra is spending time with his pack to get an idea of how everyone is functioning.

“We’ll start with you,” Sabra replies. “Your nails aren’t dry enough, but I can demonstrate on your toes first.”

Noah backs out of the room and goes to the kitchen, where Derek is tossing a salad, and Stiles is keeping an eye on a pot on the stove. “What can I do?”

“You can take a load off, Dad,” Stiles says. “We’re good here. Did the girls scare you out of the living room?”

“I really have no idea what my deputies would say if I turned up tomorrow with painted nails,” Noah admits. “So, yes.”

Stiles laughs. “I might let them paint mine.”

“You do you, kiddo,” Noah replies. “Paint your nails, wear makeup, express your truth.”

Stiles turns from his pot of boiling water to hug him. “You’re the best.”

“I’m so glad you realize that,” Noah says dryly, hugging him back, then grabbing a beer out of the fridge.

Tara is the first to arrive, and she enters the house like she owns the place, which is pretty typical for all of the pack members. “Oh, are we having a spa party?” she asks.

“Sabra is teaching us how to paint patterns,” Erica says cheerfully.

“I’m purely self-taught, so I can’t claim much expertise,” Sabra replies. “Sabra Rubens.”

“Tara Graeme,” she replies. “It’s nice to meet you.”

She comes into the kitchen and grabs a beer. She’s in her usual off-duty uniform—jeans, a t-shirt, and a leather jacket. “Hey, Stiles, how are things?”

“Things are good,” Stiles says. “Just cooking the pasta now.”

The rest of the pack arrive in short order, first Dave and Paul with Cocoa and Nibs, and Stiles releases Batman to the backyard so they can play. Mel and Scott are next, and Scott appears rather chastened. Then Isaac and Boyd, fresh off their shifts, and they wash their hands and immediately begin setting the table without prompting.

Noah pats their shoulders. “Thank you both. How were your days?”

He tries to spend a little extra time checking in with them, since they’re still both kids with no family other than the pack.

Boyd shrugs. “Good. Nothing exciting.” He glances in Stiles’ direction. “Anything here?”

“Nothing we need to talk about,” Noah replies. “Isaac?”

“Regular day,” Isaac says briefly. “We just had the one funeral.”

Isaac has kept his job at the cemetery, as well as picking up shifts at the hardware store. Boyd is working at the ice rink, and picking up a few shifts at the same movie theater where Erica is employed.

As far as Noah can tell—and he keeps an eye on them and their grades—they’re juggling everything, but Noah suspects that a lot of that has to do with Derek paying their rent, and them eating at the pack house as often as possible, not that Noah blames them.

But the pack takes care of its own, always.

“You two have any homework to take care of tonight?” Noah asks.

Isaac shakes his head. “We finished it up yesterday. We’re good. And we want to play lacrosse, so we have to keep our grades up, even if we weren’t planning on going to college.”

“Glad you’re thinking ahead,” Noah says. “Thanks, boys.”

They each give him a quick grin, and Noah is glad that they’re doing well. He finds Scott in the living room, giving in to Erica and Cora’s nail-painting efforts. Mel is watching with an amused expression. “How’s it going?”

Mel shrugs. “Scott expressed interest in being more involved in the pack, but beyond that, I can’t say. How is everything going here?”

“I think we’re approaching normalcy,” Noah replies. “But we’ll see.”

“Dinner is served,” Stiles calls.

Even with all the leaves in the table—a wishful thing on Noah and Claudia’s part, rather than actual planning for the future—there isn’t enough room. Noah makes a mental note to invest in a long table that will fit everyone, or maybe a couple of them. He fully intends on extending the pack further as the opportunities arise, either by offering the bite or making people pack-adjacent.

Noah says, “There’s seating outside and in the kitchen. Those of you who haven’t met with Sabra yet should find your way to the dining room.”

That leaves his deputies, Scott, Isaac and Boyd, but Moira prods Stiles in their direction as well. The girls head for the living room, which includes Moira and Mel, and Noah doesn’t blame them, getting away from any conflict.

Sabra makes a noise of appreciation as she begins eating. “This is excellent.”

“We eat well around here,” Noah says. “We switch off cooking duties between those who have the aptitude.”

Sabra looks at Isaac and Boyd. “We haven’t been introduced. I’m Sabra Rubens.”

Boyd smiles. “Vernon Boyd.”

Isaac bobs his head. “Isaac Lahey.”

“It’s good to meet both of you,” Sabra says. “Where are you two staying?”

“We have our own apartment,” Isaac replies. “We’re both emancipated.”

Sabra smiles. “Oh? Tell me about that. How did that happen?”

Isaac hesitates. “Well, my mom died, and then my dad was killed by a demon, so.”

Boyd shrugs. “My sister got kidnapped on my watch, and my grandma low-key hates me.”

Sabra, to her credit, doesn’t even blink. “And Noah supported your petition for emancipation?”

“Took us to the hearings, made sure we knew what it meant, and acts like we’re his kids,” Boyd says with a shrug. “I never knew my dad, but I figure that’s probably what one does. He’s more invested than anyone else has been.”

“He walked us through the whole process,” Isaac agrees. “I won’t say it was great, but he made it pretty easy.”

Noah knows that they might be talking him up, but there’s no skip in their heartbeats to indicate that they’re lying, and Sabra would know that, being a werewolf herself.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Sabra replies. “What’s been your experience with the pack?”

“Family,” Boyd and Isaac say in unison, then they look at each other and laugh. “Jinx.”

Also in unison.

They both cackle at that, and Sabra laughs as well. “I’m glad to hear that,” Sabra says. “Derek, what’s been your experience?”

“Oh, um, great,” Derek says, glancing up from his phone. As far as Noah knows, most of the people that Derek might be texting are here, but there’s Jordan Parrish, too. Noah assumes that’s who he’s talking to. “When I first got back to Beacon Hills, I didn’t think I had any family left other than Laura, and Noah took me under his wing. I wasn’t expecting him to respond so well to finding out about werewolves, but he took it in stride.”

Derek tucks his phone away, clearly refocusing on the pack meeting, and Noah sets aside any concerns he has.

Sabra looks at Noah. “Tell me about finding out.”

Noah shrugs. “I started paying attention. I knew that Stiles was into something, and I was afraid of what that might be. I have to say, I wasn’t expecting werewolves.”

“And your initial instinct was to accept it?” Sabra counters.

Noah shakes his head. “No, I accept people. If they happen to be werewolves, and they’re otherwise law-abiding citizens, I’ll treat them like anyone else. I’m paid to keep the peace, period.”

Sabra nods and turns to Tara. “And your experience?”

“Noah is the best boss I’ve ever had,” Tara replies. “And the bite saved my life. He’s good at his job, and competence is refreshing.”

“What about you?” Sabra asks Dave.

Dave shrugs. “I asked for the bite, and I don’t regret it. I have a family again, and that’s pretty great.”

Paul just smiles. “It’s nice to have people in my life who know me as a were-coyote, and I like being part of a large pack.”

Sabra nods slowly. “So, there are no issues, and everyone is getting along just fine?”

Noah notices that the only person she hasn’t polled is Scott, and he suspects that was deliberate on her part. He’s not sure what the angle is, but he suspects it has something to do with getting Scott to out himself and take responsibility.

Scott, god love him, probably hasn’t quite figured that out, although Mel’s expression suggests that she has.

Scott is a smart kid, unless he’s on the back foot, and he certainly is right now.

“It was me,” Scott blurts out. “I mean, not just me, but I didn’t realize that the pack bonds were being eroded, not until Stiles added Cora to the pack bond.”

Sabra turns to face Scott, her expression open and nonjudgmental. “Tell me how you didn’t realize that the pack bonds were eroding.”

Scott ducks his head. “Dr. Deaton was telling me that…um.”

He trails off glancing around the room for help, and Stiles jumps in, which tells Noah that Stiles is at least working on forgiving Scott. “Deaton is a druid, and the former emissary of the Hale pack—before the fire. The erosion of the pack bonds wasn’t Scott’s fault.”

“No, but most would have noticed,” Sabra comments mildly. “Although, the fact that Deaton is a druid does explain a few things. Druids can be tricky that way.”

“He just kept telling me that I was meant for bigger and better things, and that I should be an alpha,” Scott says miserably. “And Stiles stopped lacrosse and had other things, so I just… I don’t know.”

“Stiles, what’s your perspective on this?” Sabra asks.

Stiles blows out a breath. “I chose to withdraw from lacrosse because there are three werewolves and Danny on the team, and I was never going to play, barring another pink eye outbreak. I wanted to start self-defense for my own peace of mind. When you started dating Allison and had way less time for me, I didn’t stop being your friend.”

“That was different,” Scott protests.

“How is that different?” Stiles demands.

“I was in love!” Scott exclaims.

“And I’m in love with being alive!” Stiles counters. “So, I’m doing everything I can to make sure I don’t die. I would think you’d be supportive of that, given that I’m not a werewolf, and therefore more breakable than you.”

Scott just stares at him, and Stiles stares back, and Noah knows that this is the root of the problem, with everyone feeling as though they need to take one side or another, at least among the younger pack members.

Now that Cora has been added to the pack bonds, this really is the main issue. In a lot of ways, Stiles and Scott are the foundation of the pack. Scott being bitten—Stiles luring Scott out to look for a body—is what started all of it. Had Stiles not been a curious little shit, had he not convinced Scott to sneak around the woods, they might not be here.

Noah honestly has no idea where they would be. He doesn’t like to think about that, because as crazy as all this can make him, he loves this family they’ve built and can’t imagine his life without it.

“I never wanted anything to change,” Scott admits softly.

“We change or we die,” Stiles says bluntly.

Sabra holds up a hand. “That is not productive. What I’m hearing you say, Scott, is that you don’t appreciate some of the changes that have occurred. And Stiles, what I’m hearing you say is that things were changing before Scott was bitten, and Scott hasn’t acknowledged that.”

Scott doesn’t reply, just stares at the floor. Stiles throws up his hands and doesn’t say anything else.

“Cora, you’re the newest pack member,” Sabra says. “What is your perspective?”

“I think they’re both being fucking stupid,” Cora says. “You have a pack. You have people who love you. And Scott, you’re whining about Stiles quitting lacrosse? That’s what you have? I would have given my right arm to even have a fraction of what you’ve been given!”

Okay, Noah thinks. Not just Stiles and Scott then.

“Scott, how does that make you feel?” Sabra asks.

“Like shit,” Scott admits in a low voice. “I can’t imagine what Cora went through. I can’t really even understand what Stiles went through.”

“Can you all admit that even though you’re part of the same pack, you all have different experiences and backgrounds, and you may not understand the other person when there’s a disagreement?” Sabra asks. “Even when you’ve known each other for a really long time?”

Everyone other than Scott and Stiles accede immediately. After a moment’s thought, Stiles says, “Yeah, I think that’s pretty obvious.”

Scott is still staring at the floor, and Mel, who’s sitting next to him, puts a hand on his back. “Sweetheart? You want to tell us what you’re thinking?”

“I don’t know why I should even be a member of this pack,” Scott admits. “Everyone else was chosen.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Stiles snaps. “I fucking chose you, dude. You might be a dumbass, but you’re also my brother. And that’s not by blood, you absolute dickhead.”

That breaks the tension in the room, and everybody starts laughing, even Scott.

“You’re in this pack for a reason, Scott,” Noah says. “From the beginning, I viewed you as a pack member, even without Stiles creating the pack bond.”

“Everyone has that family member,” Derek comments. “Do better, and then maybe you’ll stop being that person.”

Isaac chimes in. “Seriously, dude, I’m not judging, but you have a lot going for you. Your mom thinks you’re awesome. She’s sitting right next to you. Maybe just accept what’s on offer.”

Boyd nods. “Isaac is right.”

Erica finally speaks. “Scott, you caught me when I fell off the wall. That was you. Stop, stop fucking doubting your place in this pack, you absolute dickhead.”

Noah suspects that’s going to become a thing as everyone laughs again, a moment of catharsis, even for Scott, who has had his position confirmed by consensus.

“You’re only a dickhead in this one particular instance,” Stiles adds. “You are otherwise a very good dude.”

Derek clears his throat. “I bought ice cream, if we’re done.”

“I think ice cream is a great idea,” Noah says.

Of course, Derek is in the middle of dishing up when Noah gets a call from Mark at the station. Noah excuses himself to answer it in his office. “What’s up, Mark?”

“We have another missing person,” Mark says. “A couple of kids went camping to get some alone time together. The one who reported it said that her girlfriend suddenly freaked out and went running into the woods. The witness searched for her but couldn’t locate her, so she called it in.”

Noah pinches the bridge of his nose, and asks, “Anything else strike you about this incident?”

“The witness reported that she wanted to make her girlfriend’s first time special,” Mark says, and Noah can’t quite read his tone. “Poor kid is devastated, and I didn’t know what to tell her.”

“I’m going to head in,” Noah says. “Is she still at the station?”

“No, I took her statement and asked Maria to drive her home,” Mark replies. “There really isn’t anything for you to do here, sir.”

“I can help look,” Noah replies. “The meeting is breaking up anyway. We’re on to ice cream.”

“Well, at least let Dave have a bowl of ice cream before you come in,” Mark jokes. “He’ll pout, otherwise.”

Noah laughs. “I’ll make sure of it.”

But he doesn’t have to say anything, because all three of his deputies are standing by the front door, Cocoa and Nibs already on their leashes. Batman is sitting next to Stiles, and staring up at his kid with puppy dog eyes.

“You’ll see them again,” Stiles soothes. “I know they’re your doggie BFFs.”

“I can live without ice cream,” Dave says. “And I can’t wait to have a couple of rookies at the station to draw fire.”

Paul claps him on the back. “You bring a lot of that on yourself.”

“I like to have a good time on the job,” Dave admits. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not good at it.”

Stiles clears his throat. “I already know the answer to this, but I thought I’d offer anyway: I can probably figure out where this missing person is if I’m in the vicinity of the attack, Dad. Both Moira and I felt the magical residue when Heather was kidnapped.”

“That might be, but that was also immediately after the incident, and in much less fluid circumstances,” Noah replies. “I don’t want to give this person a shot at you.”

Stiles nods. “That’s what I thought you’d say, but I wanted to offer.”

Noah reaches out and hugs him. “I appreciate that, kiddo, but I want everyone safe tonight. Buddy system until further notice.”

Moira comes into the hallway. “I’ll stay here tonight, Noah. Just to be on the safe side, not because I’m expecting trouble.”

“What do you think we’re looking at?” Noah asks.

“Probably a break while she locates her targets for the next cycle,” Moira says grimly. “And before you ask, they’ll be three of a type—like healers or warriors—but that can be broadly interpreted.”

Noah frowns. “You can’t do the same thing you did with Matt Daehler?”

“A true seeing?” Moira asks. “It’s very unlikely to be successful, although we’ll try, of course. Matt was a child, and an amateur, working with powers he didn’t understand. Whoever this is—is anything but.”

Noah doesn’t like the sound of that, but he’s well aware that crime isn’t easily predicted, and he supposes magically-driven crime is no different. “All right. It was worth asking.”

“It’s always worth asking,” Moira replies. “Stay safe.”

“Paul and I can go search once we get the location from Mark,” Dave offers.

“The four of us will go,” Noah says. “Four noses are going to be better than two.”

He just hopes they can put a stop to this before the next set of bodies drop.

~~~~~

Stiles thinks that Sabra might be a low-key genius. She’d pulled a lot of information out of Scott, and a lot of the emotions that had been simmering under the surface for a long time had been exposed. With that catharsis, everyone seems happy, and maybe a little punchy, other than Derek.

Derek keeps checking his phone in a way that’s unusual for him, and Stiles sidles up to Cora. “Is everything okay with Derek?” he whispers. Cora had volunteered to help clean up the kitchen, and Stiles followed to get the inside scoop.

Cora shrugs. “I don’t know. He gave his phone number to some woman while we were out shopping.”

Stiles frowns. “That doesn’t sound like Derek.”

“Yeah, well, you probably know him better than I do at this point,” Cora whispers. “He was really into girls when he was in high school.”

Stiles grimaces. “The last time a woman tried to flirt with him, Erica rescued him because her attention made Derek really uncomfortable.”

“Maybe this woman was more subtle?” Cora suggests. “I don’t know.”

Stiles sighs, knowing that he has enough to think about without worrying about Derek’s cell phone usage. “Are you going to register tomorrow? You could get your GED if you wanted.”

“If I wanted,” Cora agrees. “But I don’t know. Now that I’m a member of the pack, I want to be with the pack. I had a big family pack before, and you’ve basically created that here. Part of that is going to school, and it might be nice to have something approaching normal for a change.”

Stiles hesitates. “What was it like? In South America, I mean.”

He knows that Cora’s time with the alpha pack is not something that she wants to talk about, and he understands how important it is to respect that boundary.

“Oh, um, I found a pack, and they took me in,” Cora says hesitantly. “But they were never really my pack. They were kind, and they protected me, and made sure I had what I needed, but I never felt the bond with them.”

“That’s why you were so desperate to find a pack led specifically by your brother,” Stiles says, awareness dawning. “I’m sorry.”

Cora snorts. “Don’t be. Now that I have a pack bond, I’m not mad at all. Your dad is—I can feel your bond with him, too, you know, so he almost feels like my dad.”

Stiles offers a smile. “We can share him if you want.”

“I was kind of a dick to you,” Cora replies.

“I can be kind of a dick, too,” Stiles says. “I think we all can, as was discussed extensively tonight.”

Cora laughs, but then turns serious. “You like your therapist, right?”

“Yeah, he’s pretty great,” Stiles says. “You want me to ask him if he’ll see you?”

“Maybe,” Cora replies. “Eventually. I just thought I’d ask.”

Stiles gives her a long look, judging her sincerity, but Stiles thinks he’s getting a glimpse of the difference between a werewolf in a stable pack, and one who feels abandoned. He’s a little proud of himself for having given her that stability, even though he has no idea how he’d done it.

“Therapy is hard, but it’s worth it,” Stiles finally says. “So, if you decide you want that, or you just want to talk to someone who’s not pack, Jack is a good option, assuming there’s no conflict of interest.”

Cora shrugs, but doesn’t offer a verbal response. Stiles figures they’re making progress.

They finish cleaning up the kitchen, and everyone seems to be ready to head out. “Buddy system is in effect,” Moira says. “Who’s going where?”

Isaac hooks a thumb at Boyd. “We’re going home. I’ll drive us to school tomorrow.”

Cora hooks an arm through Erica’s. “I’m spending the night at Erica’s.”

Stiles sees Erica’s quick grin, and he knows she’s been hurting for a female friend. Cora seems equally invested in the relationship, so that’s good.

Scott hesitates, and Mel says, “I don’t have a shift tonight, so Scott and I will be going home. We have those wards you set up, Moira, so I’m not worried.”

“I wouldn’t be,” Moira agrees. “I think we’re in for a bit of a lull in the action, so to speak. But better safe than sorry.”

“I’ll pick you up for school tomorrow, Scott,” Stiles says. “Erica and Cora, too.”

Everyone leaves, other than Derek and Sabra, and Sabra says, “I’d like to speak with you privately, Stiles, if that’s all right.”

Stiles nods. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

“I’m heading to bed,” Derek says, going upstairs, and Moira smiles. “I’m going to put together something for breakfast, shall I?”

Sabra smiles. “Let’s sit.”

Stiles sits down and Batman, his constant shadow, sits down next to him and rests his muzzle on Stiles’ leg. Stiles strokes Batman’s soft ears as he waits for Sabra to gather her thoughts.

“You have done a remarkable job here, Stiles,” Sabra says slowly. “Derek and Cora’s pack bonds are incredibly strong, and I believe that part of that is because they’re born wolves. They grew up with those bonds, and they were probably desperate to have them again.”

Stiles swallows. “Yeah. I got that sense, at least with Cora. Derek tends to play things closer to the vest, but he’s pretty attached to my dad, not that I blame him. Either of them.”

“The pack members that Noah bit have strong bonds with your dad,” Sabra continues. “They view him as their Alpha, as is normal in packs.”

Stiles blows out a breath. “But not Scott.”

“Not Scott,” Sabra agrees.

“Did I force a bond?” Stiles asks, his fingers tightening in the fur at Batman’s ruff.

“Oh, Stiles, no,” Sabra says. “The bond you formed couldn’t be forced without some desire on the part of the other party. I believe that Scott wanted to be part of this pack. He views Noah as another parental figure, and he views you as a brother, just as you do him. But the pack is growing, and roles are changing. You have a decided future in this pack, and Scott doesn’t. His bond to the pack is never going to be as strong as the others’.”

Stiles realizes what Sabra is saying, that Scott’s connection to the pack may always be tenuous. “So, it might be enough to keep him stable until he’s ready to go to college, and maybe find another pack.”

“Or it might be enough of a connection to keep him stable, even if it’s not as rich or as deep as the other pack members’ bonds,” Sabra corrects him. “I think you figured out from Cora tonight that while a pack is necessary to keep a wolf stable, there are varying levels of connection. And there might come a day when Scott realizes that this is the pack he should be invested in.”

Stiles blows out a breath. “Right. Jack asked you to talk to me because this is a super delicate subject, because Scott is one of my primary relationships, and the idea that things are changing is a difficult one.”

“It’s like you have your own counseling degree,” Sabra jokes. “But yes.”

“I think I’ve been coming to terms with this ever since Scott showed up here after his girlfriend kidnapped me and tried to argue I was wrong,” Stiles says. “I’m not saying it’s been easy, or that I don’t have some feelings, but I’d still be doing cross country and lacrosse if I hadn’t figured that out.”

Sabra nods. “Jack said he thought you were in a good place, but he wanted me to check in on you particularly. I won’t ask you what you think about where everyone else is. How do you feel about tonight, though?”

“I think you’re a genius,” Stiles says. “I think you got more out of the pack than anyone has managed to do, and in the course of one evening, even though we’ve had multiple pack meetings.”

Sabra smiles. “It’s what I do, and I’ve seen just about everything at this point.”

Stiles hesitates. “Can I ask you a question?”

“You can ask, but I can’t promise to answer,” Sabra replies.

“Do you have a pack?” Stiles asks. “I just think that maybe if Scott knows there’s another option, he might be able to make a decision that makes sense for him.”

Sabra nods. “It’s a fair question, and the answer is that everyone is different. I have a pack, but we all have jobs that require us to travel. We make time each month to meet up and reconnect, and we do quite well. Some operate in packs that are much looser than your own, but that has a lot to do with the Alpha, his choices, and the needs of the pack members.”

“Is it a problem that my dad mostly chose kids who needed a family?” Stiles asks, even though he doesn’t think it is.

Sabra shakes her head. “No, Stiles. It means that your dad sought out the vulnerable members of his community, and gave them a place to belong. There are members of his pack at the station who have remained on the periphery, and others who have burrowed into the pack like Dave has.”

“Dave came from a big family, and he misses it,” Stiles says. “Now he has a bunch of younger siblings again, and I think he likes it. He’s my favorite. Tara should be my favorite, but it’s really Dave. He’s awesome.”

Sabra smiles. “I would agree. I think Dave is an excellent bridge between the family and the station pack.”

“I think that Tara needs the station pack, but Dave needs both,” Stiles continues.

“That’s a good insight,” Sabra says. “Thank you for that, Stiles, and thank you for your participation tonight.”

Stiles shrugs. “Therapy is great, and everyone probably needs it. They’ll have to choose that for themselves, of course, but we can at least make sure the pack is healthy.”

Sabra smiles. “That’s why I’m here. I’ll probably spend the next few days getting to know everyone, and then we’ll have another intensive on Saturday, barring any emergencies.”

Jack had warned his dad that Sabra liked to work that way, so Stiles just says, “Okay, sounds good.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Stiles,” Sabra says before she takes her leave.

Moira comes into the living room as Stiles locks the front door behind her, two steaming mugs in her hands. “You did well tonight, young spark.”

Stiles blows out a breath. “I don’t understand, to be honest. I get that I have magic, and that I have a particular role in the pack, but having a destiny isn’t always a picnic.”

Moira leads him back over to the couch, and they sit down. “This is also the same person who complained about being a werewolf, even though it meant he could play lacrosse without worrying about his asthma,” Moira says dryly.

Stiles grimaces. “Yeah, I know, and it’s the same guy who claimed that there was no reason to blame his girlfriend for kidnapping me, all evidence to the contrary.”

“I do think you handled that well, and Scott will have to work things out on his own,” Moira replies. “And I think you were wise to ask Sabra to give Scott another option, other than being enmeshed in this pack.”

“I just want him to be happy,” Stiles replies. “And I’d really like it if he could be happy for me, too.”

“It might just take him a little extra time to get there,” Moira replies soothingly. “Scott is on his own journey.”

Stiles nods. “I know that.”

Batman shoves his head under Stiles’ free hand, and Stiles rubs his soft ears. “But we should probably talk about this dark druid, huh?”

“It’s possible that they’ll try to use the Nemeton, and what is currently housed within it,” Moira admits. “And once they’ve decided to start the next cycle, there will be three more murders, and they’ll gain more power.”

Stiles takes a long sip of his tea. “So, you know, no pressure! Can we trace them? I know what you told my dad, but…”

“We can try with the rest of the coven,” Moira says, but she doesn’t sound all that hopeful. “If we get very lucky, we might be able to see them in the moment where their guard is dropped. But even if we manage that, dark druids like this one are skilled at using glamors. Who’s to say that the face we see in the midst of the ritual is the one they show us?”

Stiles frowns, and then takes another long sip of his tea. “Am I a match for them?”

“Fully trained?” Moira asks. “Yes, at least up to a certain point. If they manage to complete the ritual, it will take a full coven, and more than what we have right now.”

“Then we have to stop them sooner,” Stiles says, and he can’t help the cynicism creeping into his voice. “I’m sure that will be super easy.”

Moira laughs. “I do like your enthusiasm, Stiles.” She ignores the sarcasm. “But you’re right. We do need to find and stop them before they complete the cycle.”

Stiles’ brain is racing, trying to figure something out that they haven’t tried yet. He managed to pick a set of handcuffs using his brain, and Stiles feels like maybe he could come up with an out-of-the-box solution.

“If we found a murder site, could I track them?” Stiles asks. “Like a magical bloodhound through the ley lines? I have a connection to the earth. Surely, this kind of dark magic can’t be good for it.”

Moira blinks. “I—I don’t know, Stiles. Maybe. It might be worth trying, but we would need your father’s permission.”

Stiles runs a hand through his hair, and Batman rests his head on Stiles’ leg. “Okay. He’s going to say no.”

“Stiles, he has three dead bodies and no leads right now, with the promise of three more bodies, and then three more after that,” Moira says patiently. “He just came out of a confrontation with the alpha pack with multiple murders. Most of them might have been killed outside of his jurisdiction, but these three weren’t. Do you think he’s going to pass up help, even when it’s from his own kid?”

“No,” Stiles replies. “No, he won’t.”

“What’s up?” Moira asks patiently.

“What if we try, and I can’t do it?” Stiles asks. “Then I get his hopes up, and for nothing!”

“It won’t be for nothing,” Moira says firmly. “It will be a potential avenue to try, and if it doesn’t work, your dad and the investigation won’t be any worse off.”

Stiles knows that she’s right, but it still makes him anxious. “I absolutely promise not to go off on my own to find a crime scene,” which is part of what he thinks Moira is asking, too.

“Well, that’s a relief,” Moira replies. “But I’m serious, Stiles. We might be called upon to stop this person, because that is the business of being a responsible magic user, but what we can do with magic is often limited. If we can’t find them, then we can’t find them.”

“It’s a game, isn’t it?” Stiles grumbles. “They have to know there are other magic users, so they do what they can to hide themselves, and we do our best to find them.”

“Is that so different than any other criminal?” Moira counters.

Stiles frowns. “Wait. Are there magical cops? Is that a thing that exists?”

“I would ask Agent Marsh that question,” Moira replies. “But if there isn’t already, there needs to be. Those of us who have been using magic for a long time take on that mantle, but our abilities are always somewhat limited.”

“I’ll ask him,” Stiles says. “I was thinking about going into the FBI anyway, so maybe I can be a magical cop of some kind, because you’re right, this person is a criminal, and they need to be stopped.”

Moira smiles. “You’re very focused on that goal, Stiles. What happens when you get into the Academy? The closest you might be stationed to Beacon Hills is San Francisco.”

Stiles has been thinking about that a lot, because he knows that he has a duty to the pack, to Beacon Hills, and to the Nemeton. “I go to college, and I do really, really well, and then I go to the FBI for a while. I learn everything I can, and then I come back and join the station here,” Stiles says simply. “Beacon Hills gets a trained FBI agent, and I get a lot of skills that I wouldn’t otherwise have.”

“I agree that your plan makes a lot of sense,” Moira agrees. “But I worry that you’re not giving yourself much room for fun, or to explore other options.”

Stiles finishes his tea and sets his mug on the floor, running his free hand through his hair. “I feel like I’ve been set on a path, and I have to follow that path to the end. It also feels as though if I don’t equip myself, someone is going to die. Maybe me, maybe someone in the pack, maybe the whole pack. I can’t explain it, but the feeling keeps growing stronger.”

He’s never articulated that feeling, operating mostly on instinct. He’s allowed the fractures between him and Scott, and even him and Isaac and Boyd, to grow, or at least remain without Stiles trying to fix it, mostly because he knows what path he needs to take.

Moira frowns. “How long have you been feeling this way?”

“I think since—maybe Matt?” Stiles ventures. “I don’t know. It’s been growing, and when I talk to Jack about things, it just seemed smart to sort of separate myself, because I’m going to have a separate path.”

Moira sighs audibly. “Focusing on the future isn’t a problem, Stiles, but you must also live in the present. Don’t cut yourself off from the rest of the pack just because you know your time here may be limited. You will pass up on forging deeper relationships now, and then when you return, the opportunity may be lost to you.”

Stiles feels those words hard. “Yeah. Okay. I get it.”

“You don’t seem to have the same problem with Derek,” Moira points out.

“Yeah, but Derek is my dad’s right hand,” Stiles counters. “Derek is solid. I feel him like a rock.”

He instinctively reaches for the pack bond, but it feels a bit strange, and not like it usually does. “Something is weird with Derek.”

Moira frowns. “My wards aren’t reacting to anything, but we’re talking about a Darach. Go up and check on him, but then I think you should get to bed. It’s been an eventful night.”

Stiles nods. “All right. ‘night, Moira.”

He knocks on Derek’s door when he gets upstairs and hears the call to come in. “Hey, you cool, dude?”

“Don’t call me dude,” Derek says easily. “And I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Stiles presses. “The bond feels different.”

“I promise, I’m fine,” Derek insists. He smiles, and it seems sincere.

Stiles bobs his his head. “Okay, you’re fine. Good to know. Let me know if that changes.”

Stiles still isn’t sure that’s true, but it’s just a niggling feeling, and he’s tired. Right now, he just really wants to get to bed.

~~~~~

Derek finds himself texting Jennifer Blake during the course of the day, any time he has a moment. She’s easy to talk to, asking Derek about his schooling and the classes he’s taking, books he’s read, movies he’s watched.

“You’ve been looking at your phone a lot,” Parrish comments. Derek had met him at his apartment to help him pack the U-Haul.

He’d been a little hesitant to leave Beacon Hills with the current emergency underway, but Noah encouraged him to go. “Parrish needs the help, and there’s nothing you can really do around here,” he’d said firmly. “He’s going to be pack.”

So, Derek headed out to meet Parrish, and helped him disassemble his bed and pack up his kitchen, not that there’s much. It’s clear that Parrish travels light, so it’s not a big load. But in between those tasks, he’s fielding texts from Jennifer.

Parrish’s comment brings Derek up short, though. “Am I?”

“Yeah, man,” Parrish replies as they put his mattress in the U-Haul. “I know that you text, but it’s been constant today.”

Derek grimaces and tucks his phone away. He thinks of texting as a useful tool, but it’s not a replacement for human interaction, and Derek is here to help Parrish. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t apologize,” Parrish replies. “It’s just unusual.”

“I hadn’t realized I was doing that,” Derek admits.

“New friend?” Parrish asks, a teasing note in his voice.

Derek shrugs. “I don’t know. Just someone I ran into when I took Cora shopping, and we exchanged numbers.”

Parrish frowns at him. “Should I be checking the sheriff’s house for pods in the basement?”

“I’m not a pod person,” Derek replies. “And why would you ask?”

“Come on, man,” Parrish says. “You got really weirded out when that woman approached you at the bar, and you said you’d been freaked out by the same woman approaching you at the coffee shop.”

“This was different,” Derek says defensively. “It was a completely different context, and it didn’t really feel like she was trying to pick me up.”

Parrish holds up his hands. “Sorry. It seemed out of character. I just wanted to be sure you knew what you were doing.”

“We’re just talking,” Derek says. “We haven’t even seen each other in person other than when I gave her my number.”

There’s a part of Derek that knows it’s a little out of character for him to even do that much, especially after Kate. Dating is a little foreign to him these days, but Derek thinks his actions are pretty normal.

“All right, you do you,” Parrish replies. “I just hadn’t seen you texting this much before.”

Derek shrugs and resolves to ignore his phone as much as possible when he’s around other people. It could be perceived as rude to be paying more attention to his phone than the person or people he’s with anyway.

And he stays off his phone while he drives with Parrish in the U-Haul back to Beacon Hills. Parrish has rented an apartment in the same complex as Boyd and Isaac, and when they arrive, the two boys are standing out front to help unload and unpack.

Derek can tell that Parrish is touched. “You guys didn’t have to come help.”

“You’re pack,” Boyd says simply. “Of course, we did.”

The saying is that many hands make light work, and that’s true here as they get everything unloaded, unpacked, and the furniture put back together in an hour and a half. Parrish has a one-bedroom efficiency apartment with a small kitchen, an equally tiny bathroom, and living room. It might have been depressing, but there’s a balcony with wide glass doors that let in a lot of light, and a large window in the bedroom that faces south.

“You guys want to eat?” Parrish asks. “You helped, so I’ll spring for pizza.”

Boyd and Isaac glance at each other. “Oh, uh, thanks,” Isaac says. “But we’re under strict orders to bring you back to the sheriff’s house for dinner. We aren’t allowed to kidnap you, but short of that…”

Parrish chuckles. “Yeah, okay, I’m not going to pass up a free dinner.”

“We can return the U-Haul and pick up our cars after that,” Derek offers.

Parrish nods. “That works. Thanks.”

“I can drive us over,” Isaac offers.

He has his father’s four-door sedan. It’s not an exciting vehicle, but Isaac has commented that at least it’s paid for and in good condition, unlike Roscoe.

It’s a quick drive to Noah’s house, and Parrish blinks as they enter to see a banner that reads “Welcome to Beacon Hills, Jordan Parrish!”

Erica, Cora, and Stiles are standing under the banner with hopeful expressions, and Parrish blows out a breath. “Wow, um. Thank you. That seems really inadequate, but thank you.”

Stiles just smiles and offers a fist bump. “Welcome to the pack. Glad to have you here.”

“Thanks, Stiles,” Parrish says. “I really appreciate the welcome.”

“Come on,” Erica says, looping her arm through Parrish’s, and Cora doing the same on the other side. “We have drinks out on the porch, and the Sheriff is manning the grill.”

Derek is a little surprised that Noah is at home when there’s a big case brewing, but maybe it makes sense, from the standpoint that there are no leads. No new bodies have dropped, and the three victims have all been found.

And maybe Noah is just trying to be more present for the pack, at least when he can be.

His phone vibrates in his pocket, and Derek glances around, realizing that everyone else is distracted, so he can answer without it being weird.

Everything okay?

He types out, Just helping a friend move, and we’re having a family dinner tonight.

The response is almost immediate. We should meet up soon. I have a place in where we could have privacy.

Derek has only been texting with Jennifer for a few days, and he’s definitely not ready for that yet. I’m a little too busy for that at the moment. Let’s stick with texting for now.

He puts his phone away, ignoring the sense of uneasiness he’s feeling. It’s not a big deal. She’s just eager, and all Derek needs to do is gently pump the brakes.

Derek goes out to the back deck, and Noah is at the grill. Dave, Paul, and Stiles are throwing balls for the three dogs, who look like they’re in doggy heaven, Parrish has a drink in hand, and is talking with Tara, Erica, and Cora, and Derek can hear Moira coaxing Scott, Boyd and Isaac through her semi-famous potato salad recipe.

Everything seems good for now.

That night, Moira comes to Derek and says, “I think tomorrow is the right time for us to confront Deaton. The other pack members will be at school or work, and I assume Deaton will know we’re coming at this point, considering how many days Scott has called out sick.”

Derek nods. “Yeah, okay. What time?”

“I’ll meet you here at nine, and we’ll go from there,” Moira replies. “But, Derek, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” Derek asks, feeling exasperated.

“Because we care about you, boyo,” Moira shoots back. “And you’re acting differently.”

Derek shakes his head. “I met a girl, and we’re texting, but it’s nothing more than that right now. It might be more at some point, but that’s it.”

“Okay, as long as you’re happy,” Moira says. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Derek feels a little on edge that evening, wondering if anyone else has noticed that he’s texting more than usual and is judging him for it, but no one says anything. Derek figures he’s just being paranoid, but he has his reasons for that.

He drives with Parrish to drop off the U-Haul that night so they can both pick up their vehicles, and then heads home late. He doesn’t sleep well, tossing and turning, wondering what it’s going to be like to confront his mother’s emissary.

Derek is tired the following morning, and he ignores his phone. He doesn’t want a distraction while he’s dealing with this threat, even though his phone is buzzing insistently. He feels a compulsion to answer, but resolutely doesn’t.

And maybe it’s just to prove that he can ignore it, after Parrish’s comments the prior day.

Derek climbs into the passenger seat of Moira’s Prius when she pulls up in front of Noah’s house, and he’s dressed to impress in all black—jeans, t-shirt, and leather jacket.

“Very nice,” Moira comments. “You look very intimidating.”

“That was the plan,” Derek replies. “I want answers.”

“You have the right to demand them,” Moira agrees. “Especially since he was the emissary of your old pack, and he’s been actively undermining your new one.”

Derek isn’t planning on losing his temper, but he knows there’s a possibility, especially if he doesn’t like what Deaton has to say. What he does know is that they can’t fight a war on two fronts. Having Deaton undermining the pack while they’re trying to track down a homicidal magic user is just going to split their efforts and attention.

Moira pulls up in front of the animal clinic, and there’s only one other car present, so Derek assumes that Deaton is alone.

Not for the first time, Derek wonders about that. It seems that Scott is Deaton’s only help, which Derek finds odd. He thought that most animal clinics would have more than just the veterinarian—a receptionist, a vet tech, other staff.

They walk into the clinic, and a bell rings overhead, although no one appears to be present. The clinic is clean and small, with just a few chairs in the waiting room, and a reception desk that bars entry into the back.

Moira steps up to the desk and draws in a breath, then makes a thoughtful noise. Deaton comes out of the back just then, forestalling any questions Derek might have asked.

“Good morning,” Deaton says pleasantly, wiping his hands on a rag. “How may I help you?”

Moira’s smile is wolfish. “I was wondering if you realized that the wards you have on your clinic will erode pack bonds if someone spends enough time here.”

“Is that so?” Deaton asks, sounding surprised. “I had no idea.”

The growl slips past his lips before Derek can help himself. Deaton’s heartbeat stays steady, so it’s not an obvious lie, but Derek doesn’t believe him. If Deaton had built wards that would erode pack bonds, then surely he could have built wards that would have prevented the house fire that killed most of his family.

Moira puts a warning hand on Derek’s arm. “Easy, Derek. Dr. Deaton, I’ll warn you now that Derek is aware that you were the Hale pack’s emissary at the time of the fire. He’s not inclined to listen to any dissembling or lies.”

Something flickers behind Deaton’s eyes. “I don’t answer to you, Derek.”

“The person who could have called you to account is dead, through your negligence,” Derek growls. “My mother, my Alpha, is dead.”

“And that is unfortunate,” Deaton says. “I’m sorry that it happened, but I wasn’t the one who set the fire.”

Moira sighs, the sound full of disappointment. “Alan Deaton, be careful choosing your next words. There is a coven in this town now.”

“I know who you are, Moira Keynes,” Deaton replies, and now his tone is cold, the pleasant facade gone. “And you do not frighten me.”

Moira frowns. “Then you are a fool.”

“That is your opinion,” Deaton replies, and the mask is back in place. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

“Scott will not be coming back here,” Moira replies.

“That’s not your decision to make,” Deaton snaps. “Scott can make his own choices.”

Moira snorts. “Scott is a child, and still subject to the rules that his mother and his Alpha set. Once they know that you’ve created wards at this clinic designed to undermine his connection to his pack, Scott will not be allowed to return.”

Anger breaks through Deaton’s placid expression. “You’re meddling in matters that are none of your business.”

“Your precious balance is not a consideration here,” Moira says sharply. “We’re building a sanctuary town, and magic users not dedicated to preserving the town, rather than the balance, will not be welcome.”

Derek clears his throat. “Let me be clear. Anyone who would allow an entire family to burn when they could have prevented it is not welcome in this town. The sooner you leave, the better.”

The mask falters again. “The pack was too strong, and was drawing the attention of the hunters. Your mother was instrumental in creating the conditions that resulted in the alpha pack, and in the Darach.”

“Oh, so you can see the future?” Moira asks snidely. “We know about the summit, and you were there, too. You could have prevented those events just as easily as Talia. You could have done so much more than watch your pack burn.”

“I could have,” Deaton says, and there’s a cruel twist to his mouth. “But it would have been an attempt to thwart fate.”

Derek feels sick to his stomach. “Leave town. You aren’t welcome in Beacon Hills.”

He turns and leaves the clinic, unable to stand being in the same room as Deaton a moment longer. Maybe he hadn’t set the fire, but he hadn’t lifted a finger to save his pack either.

Moira exits a few minutes later and says, “Deaton understands that it would be best for his health if he leaves Beacon Hills.”

Derek glances at her. “What did you do?”

“I put a geas on him,” Moira says. “It’s not something that I do often, but I deemed it necessary. He’s too dangerous to leave here.”

“He could have prevented the fire, and the deaths,” Derek says bleakly.

Moira glances at him. “He could have, but I question whether it even occurred to him to try, and he’s trying to justify himself after the fact.”

Derek frowns. “You think he just…wasn’t good at his job.”

“That’s exactly what I think,” Moira replies. “Which means it’s all the more important for Deaton not to be in Beacon Hills. He could do a great deal of damage without even intending it.”

Derek climbs into the passenger seat. “I could hate him very easily.”

“I know,” Moira replies, patting his leg. “But don’t waste your energy on the likes of him.”

His phone vibrates in his pocket, and Derek pulls it out, seeing the text from Jennifer.

Is everything okay?

It’s the fifth in a string of texts, and Derek feels a spark of annoyance that is quickly stifled. Jennifer is just worried about him, that’s all. Everything is fine. Just had an errand to run.

He puts his phone away and ignores the strange feeling he has. It’s just his anger against Deaton that’s making him uncomfortable.

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