Reading Time: 137 Minutes

Title: A Rock and A Hard Place
Series: What We Gain
Series Order: 6
Author: enigmaticblue
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Genre: Action Adventure, Drama, Family
Relationship(s): Gen
Content Rating: PG-13
Warnings: *No Mandatory Warnings Apply.
Author Note: Man, the timeline of Teen Wolf is just absolutely nuts. This is where I start taking huge liberties, FYI. I’ve done my best.
Word Count: 68,757
Summary: Chris Argent’s warnings about the hunters come to fruition, putting Noah in the difficult position of having two major investigations to conduct with a target on his back. Somehow, he has to keep his pack safe.
Artist: ringspells
Artist Appreciation: I always love working with you, ringspells! Thank you for the amazing work again.

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Chapter 1

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

Maria pokes her head inside. “Sir, Agent Rodriguez from the BI is here to speak with you. Are you available? I didn’t see an appointment on your calendar.”

“Send her in,” Noah replies. “I wasn’t sure if she’d be able to make it today.”

Maria bobs her head. “If you don’t mind, sir, I need to leave a bit early today for a meeting with Rosa’s therapist. Cindy said she’d cover.”

“Yes, of course,” Noah says easily. “I hope everything is okay.”

“It’s about her IEP,” Maria admits. “I think they’re going to provide some additional services, so hopefully things will be easier going forward.”

“I hope so, too,” Noah replies.

She smiles. “Thank you, sir.”

She retreats, and a tall woman in a black suit and sharp white blouse enters. Her long, dark hair has bright red highlights, and is pulled back in a ponytail. When Noah stands to greet her, he realizes that she has an inch or two on him.

“Agent Rodriguez?” Noah says. “Noah Stilinski.”

She has a firm handshake and smiles briefly. “I have to say, I was impressed with the report you filed with the AG.” She bypasses the pleasantries entirely, getting right down to business, which Noah appreciates.

“We need the help,” Noah says bluntly. “I just hired two reserve deputies who will be going through the third module in their spare time, but what we’ve uncovered so far suggests that the rot runs deep in the place.”

And it’s not just the murders that Brunski had committed. Noah is talking about Eichen House itself, and the way its been run, since a serial killer had been allowed to stalk its halls.

Rodriguez sits down across from his desk, propping her right ankle on her left knee. “Unfortunately for you, our operations were scaled back in 2012, and we don’t have a lot of resources.”

Noah knows that, and he sighs. “I realize that, and I appreciate you making the trip out here.”

Rodriguez raises her hand. “I said that we don’t have a lot of resources, but that doesn’t mean I can’t help. You’ve managed to do quite a bit, and I’m scrappy. I think between the two of us, we’ll figure this out.”

Noah blows out a breath. “I’ll take any help I can get, to be honest. I’ve had my two reserve deputies, Derek and Parrish, going through the medical records, trying to sort out victims from accidents or those who self-harmed. We’re up to seven so far, and while we have more than enough to charge the head orderly, we think it goes deeper.”

“You don’t think it’s the location itself, do you?” Rodriguez asks.

Noah frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Eichen House,” Rodriguez replies. “The rumors are that place is bad ju-ju.”

Noah takes a deep breath. “It’s built on the site of a Japanese internment camp that was liquidated prior to the end of the war. Based on what I’ve seen, that’s entirely possible. I wouldn’t have said that at one point in time, but I’ve seen enough now.”

Rodriguez’s lips tilt up in a smile. “It’s not often I meet another law enforcement officer who will even countenance the idea of bad ju-ju.”

“It’s not every LEO who’s the Alpha of a werewolf pack with a coven in his territory,” Noah counters, since she’d already put her cards on the table about being a were-coyote.

She chuckles. “I think we’re going to get along just fine. I have one analyst assigned to me, and we have three big cases right now. I can give you maybe ten hours a week, unless or until we hit a crisis point and your case moves to the front burner. I’ve put some pressure on my contacts at the Department of Social Services to appoint an interim director. They don’t like egg on their faces, so I think they’ll move quickly. At least the current patients will be protected going forward.”

Noah has to admit that’s better that he’s been able to do. Although Healy was arrested on obstruction charges, the remaining staff have been playing dumb, insisting their official records are hard copy, and there’s no electronic data.

Digitizing the hard copies will take time that they may not have. It’s been easier to have Derek and Parrish review the files, at least initially.

After that, they’ll have to find the resources—or have someone give access to the electronic files. “That’s good,” Noah says. “They tried to bury us in paper.”

Rodriguez frowns. “What?”

“They claim there aren’t electronic files,” Noah admits. “Or that they can’t give us access.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Rodriguez snarls, and Noah can see the were-coyote in her. “I’ll reach out to DSS. My guess is that Healy made that a policy to make it harder to get answers. I’ve seen that happen before. Even if they can’t give you full access, there are options, and DSS will know how to get you the information you need.”

Noah smiles. “I would appreciate that. Any help I can get, honestly.”

Rodriguez shakes her head. “You seem to have a lot on your plate, Sheriff. I saw that Kate Argent was sentenced, so at least you don’t have that hanging over your head.”

Noah shakes his head. “And while that’s a relief, I have an arson and multiple murder that I’d like to solve. Eight years in prison isn’t enough for everything she did.”

“Agreed,” Rodriguez says. “What do you know about the other hunter families?”

Noah hesitates. “Chris Argent said Allison was taking over. I’m hoping she’s solidified that hold by the time Kate gets out—if we can’t keep her behind bars. He put a bug in my ear about the other families taking notice of Beacon Hills.”

Rodriguez nods. “Good. I’m glad you’re aware. There’s no chance that they don’t know you’re a werewolf at this point, and with Gerard Argent dead and Kate behind bars, they might get ideas that they need to act to take you out in the Argents’ place.”

“Great,” Noah mutters, although he’s figured that much out for himself. It’s possible that while the charges are pending against Allison, the hunters have held back. Once her sentencing takes place next month, they won’t have that impediment.

“I’m not saying that the hunters are cool with other weres,” Rodriguez says, “but they really hate werewolves, as I’m sure you’ve figured out.”

“Because we form packs,” Noah replies. “Which means we can challenge them.”

“That’s my assumption,” Rodriguez agrees.

Noah scrubs his hands over his face. “Right, well, I do appreciate the warning. I’ll put the station on alert.”

Rodriguez smiles warmly. “It’s another reason I wanted to see you in person. You’re the first Alpha I know of who’s been able to get an entire department behind you.”

“I have good people,” Noah replies. “And we’ve built a good thing here.”

“And he’s modest, too,” Rodriguez jokes. “I’ll reach out to my contact at DSS, see if I can’t do something on that end. If we turn up anything, I’ll let you know, and I know you’ll do the same.”

“Of course,” Noah promises. “I appreciate the visit.”

Rodriguez stands up and shakes his hand again. “I can’t stay long. I have another appointment a couple of towns over, which is why I could justify the trip. I hope the next time I visit, I might be able to meet some of your pack.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Noah replies. He knows that Sheriff Morrison vouched for her, and he likes what he’s seen so far, but he’s going to wait and see.

Rodriguez laughs. “Trust, but verify? I understand. Thanks for your time.”

Noah stands up. “I’ll see you out. Next time, maybe you can stay a little longer, and I’ll introduce you to the best curly fries in the state, according to my kid.”

“There aren’t a lot of things I would trust coming from a teenager, but the quality of curly fries is one of them,” she admits.

Noah smiles. “Stiles has opinions about a lot of things, but he’ll also be the first one to tell you that he can be full of shit.”

“Have a great day, Sheriff,” Rodriguez says as they reach the door.

“You, too,” Noah replies.

Maria is still at the dispatcher’s desk after Noah shows her out, and she asks, “Are they going to help?”

“We’ve got ten hours a week, most likely,” Noah replies. “So, not a lot of help, but I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.”

Maria frowns. “Can we trust her?”

“I don’t know yet,” Noah admits. “I’m going to be cautious. I think that’s the best we can do.”

Tara bustles into the station, fresh off of patrol. “Sheriff, I need you. I checked out that anonymous tip like you asked, and based on what I smelled, we have a meth lab on our hands.”

Noah heads back to his office for his gun belt, which he’d taken off, since it’s uncomfortable to wear at his desk. Tara follows him, which is what he’d wanted her to do. “Anything beyond the smell and the anonymous tip?”

“Nothing I could see,” Tara replies. “But it’s an abandoned barn outside of town, and I contacted the landowner. He gave me permission to check things out, and said he hadn’t authorized anyone to use the property. If someone is there, they’re trespassing. I would have just run them off, except for the smell.”

Noah buckles on his belt. “Yeah. That makes sense.”

“Who was it I just saw leaving?” Tara asks as they head out.

“Agent Rodriguez of the CBI,” Noah says. “Sorry, the BI. I can’t get that straight.”

“I still think BI is a little pretentious, like there aren’t other bureaus of investigation,” Tara says cheekily. “CBI keeps it in perspective.”

Noah laughs. “Yeah, let’s go with that. Did you call anyone else in?”

“Mark is sitting on the place,” Tara admits. “And he said he can smell it, too, so we’ve got other senses involved.”

“Good enough,” Noah replies. “I’ll let you drive.”

Derek and Parrish are off today. Noah has been utilizing them heavily for document review, since they’re detail oriented and can be trusted with it. But Noah also has to be cognizant of overtime pay, and he can’t justify a lot of it right now.

As much as he hates it, Brunski is in custody, and the Eichen House investigation is going to take time. Since it’s a marathon, not a sprint, Noah has to conserve resources.

Tara pushes the speed limit a bit, but she’s a competent, careful driver, and she makes sure to signal appropriately and follow the other traffic laws.

As they approach the property, Noah recognizes it. “This is the third tip we’ve had, isn’t it?”

“Sure, and we’ve driven by in the past, but no one saw anything,” Tara replies. “But we’ve never sent a werewolf, and no one ever contacted the landowner to see if anyone had permission to use the property.”

Noah grimaces. “Fuck. That was an oversight on my part.”

Tara frowns at him. “Sir, the first tip came in just after we found Laura Hale. We’ve been a little busy.”

“Sometimes I wonder if this whole thing is too much of a distraction,” Noah mutters.

Tara snorts. “Well, it is, the same way a severed limb is a distraction from a hangnail. Not saying we don’t shut down drug operations when we can, but it’s not a fucking serial killer.”

Noah appreciates the perspective. “Thanks.”

“Always here to keep you from getting too far up your own ass, sir,” Tara says cheerfully as she pulls up next to Mark’s vehicle, about a hundred yards away from the barn.

“Mark,” Noah says as they get out. “Anything?”

Mark shakes his head. “Nothing.”

Noah eyes the barn, and he spots a generator on the western side of the building. “I don’t suppose you asked the owner about the generator,” Noah comments.

Tara shakes her head. “No, but he said the place should be empty, which means the generator doesn’t belong here.”

“All right,” Noah says. “Tara, why don’t you go around back, prevent anyone from escaping that way. Mark and I will go in the front.”

“Sure thing,” she replies. “Just give me a few minutes to get into position.”

Tara lopes off, moving in a wide circle to make it less likely for her to be seen.

As they’re waiting, Mark asks, “Did the agent from the BI show up?”

“Yeah, she did,” Noah admits. “I liked her, but she’s stretched thin, too. She said she could give us about 10 hours a week right now, unless things heat up.”

Mark snorts. “Ten hours is still time we get back.”

“She also thought she could make some calls and get the electronic files sent to us,” Noah adds. “Which would certainly help us review the records.”

Mark grunts. “Yeah, it would. That would make contacting her worth it, even if that’s all we get.”

“All right,” Noah says. “I think we’ve given Tara enough time, don’t you?”

“Let’s go,” Mark replies.

Noah snaps off the safety loop of his holster so he can pull his gun quickly if necessary, and Mark does the same. Mark stands off to the side of the door so he can point his weapon at whoever opens it if necessary.

Noah pounds on the door. “Beacon County Sheriff!” he calls.

There’s no response, and Noah repeats himself, then pulls his service weapon and puts a hand on the doorknob. He gets a nod from Mark, and Noah gives the door a hard push to open it.

Mark leads the way inside, his weapon drawn.

“Please don’t shoot,” a young, female voice calls. “Please!”

“Come out with your hands up,” Mark orders gruffly. “Are you the only one here?”

The woman—barely more than a girl, really—is stick-thin, her hands raised above her head. She’s wearing a ratty t-shirt and jeans, and her sneakers are worn through at the toes. “My boyfriend left to get us some food. I was supposed to watch the place.”

The smell of the chemicals used to cook meth is nearly overwhelming, and only Noah’s experience is keeping his reaction under control. As potent as those fumes are, though, the place is in danger of going up at any moment.

“Let’s go outside,” Noah says. “This place isn’t safe.”

Mark holsters his weapon and grabs the girl by the upper arm. Noah leads the way back outside, and finds Tara standing a few yards away. She has a man who looks to be in his thirties in cuffs, and she says, “I found him sneaking around back.”

“You’re under arrest,” Mark tells the girl. “You have the right to remain silent.”

He continues reciting the Miranda warnings, and Noah turns to look at Tara and her suspect. He looks familiar, and before he can ask, Tara hands over a well-worn canvas wallet.

Noah pulls out the driver’s license, and reads the name out loud. “Richard Michaelson. I remember you. I think this might be the third strike.”

“Fuck you!” Michaelson snarls.

“I’ll pass,” Noah replies. “Mark? You got her?”

Mark nods. “I’ll bring her into the station.”

The girl starts crying hysterically. “No, please! I don’t want to go to jail! I didn’t want to do this!”

“Shut your fucking mouth, bitch!” Michaelson yells.

“Let’s go,” Tara snaps. “And keep a civil tongue in your head.”

Noah can already tell how this is going to go. The girl is going to roll on Michaelson, and Michaelson is going to wind up getting an enhanced sentence under the three strikes law.

“Third time unlucky,” Noah mutters. “Good work, asshole.”

Michaelson opens his mouth, probably to utter more profanity, and Tara tightens her grip on his arm as they walk back to the vehicle. “I strongly recommend exercising your right to stay silent,” she interrupts.

Noah gets on the radio to ask dispatch for a disposal team, since they’ll need hazmat suits to shut down the lab and deal with the chemicals.

As far as Noah is concerned, it’s been a pretty good morning. He made a contact, and they’ve shut down a meth lab.

He’s certainly had worse days on the job.

~~~~~

Stiles watches as Erica loops her arm through Malia’s, with Cora on her other side. As a pack, they’d agreed that Malia wouldn’t be left alone, to hopefully avoid another situation like the one with Les Anderson.

His dad certainly isn’t sending Malia back to Eichen House, and Mr. Tate still hasn’t turned up. Of course, if Tate left the state, the best his dad can do is to put out an APB. Abandoning his child, while certainly a crime, isn’t going to trigger a manhunt.

Of course, the argument could be made that Tate hadn’t abandoned his child, since he’d left her in the care of Eichen House. If he stays gone until Malia turns 18, he probably won’t be charged with a crime.

If Tate couldn’t handle Malia being a were-coyote, or her role in the deaths of her mom and sister, Stiles thinks it’s probably best for him to stay away. The pack can give Malia what she needs.

“Did you pick up another pack member?” Lydia asks, appearing next to Stiles’ locker.

“You remember that tip you gave me about Eichen House?” Stiles asks her. “She was in there, and it wasn’t a good place.”

Lydia shudders a bit. “No, I got that.”

“So, we couldn’t exactly leave her there, and her dad is currently MIA,” Stiles adds. “There weren’t a lot of other options.” He pauses. “Have you told your parents anything?”

Lydia shakes her head. “No. My mom and dad’s divorce was recently finalized, and Dad and I were never close. Mom—“ Lydia shakes her head. “I don’t want her to think I’m crazy.”

Stiles can sense a story there, but he doesn’t press. “I get that. I always had that worry after what happened to my mom.”

He’s not telling her much that she doesn’t already know. Beacon Hills isn’t that big; everyone knows that Stiles’ mom had died young and tragically.

Lydia sighs. “My grandmother died at Eichen House. My mom claimed she was mentally ill, but in speaking with my teacher, I think it was her banshee abilities manifesting.”

“My teacher thinks it was my mom’s magic turning in on her,” Stiles admits, and holds Lydia’s gaze when she stares at him.

He can feel the burgeoning connection between them as they turn to walk to physics class together.

“I’m glad your dad is investigating that place,” Lydia murmurs. “I’ve always wondered about what happened to my grandmother there.”

Stiles hesitates. “Maybe my dad will find answers for you, too.”

“Maybe,” Lydia replies dubiously. “Nothing against your dad, but I don’t want to get my hopes up.”

“I don’t blame you,” Stiles replies.

Stiles is glad that he and Lydia have reached an understanding. He has a lot of classes with her and Danny this year, since he’s decided to take as many advanced placement courses as he can. His goal is to have at least one, and maybe two, semesters worth of credits before he goes to college.

Lydia and Danny seem to have the same idea, although Boyd plans to take a couple of AP classes senior year. Boyd’s grades have always been solid, but he’s been putting in more effort now that there are people who give a shit. Isaac and Scott are average students, but they’re doing their best. Jury’s still out on how Erica and Cora will do, since both of them lost a lot of time with their respective troubles.

It’s another way that Stiles is set apart from his pack members, so he’s glad to have his friendship with Danny and his burgeoning connection with Lydia.

To Stiles, it feels like the pack is growing in a more natural way now, with people being added to the pack as they come across them, rather than actively recruiting.

Once class is over, Danny—who’s sitting in front of Stiles—says, “Do you want to invite Lydia over for our lesson after school?”

Stiles thinks about, and he nods. He’s not sure how Lydia fits in with the pack yet, but Moira has some ideas for how Lydia’s banshee abilities might tie into Stiles’ affinity with the rune stones, and her own abilities with the scrying bowl.

“Yeah, I’m down,” Stiles says. “I know Moira has said she’s interested, and she knows Lydia’s teacher.”

“I heard my name,” Lydia says pertly as she stands in front of Danny.

Danny grins at her. “Do you want to come over to my house after school for a study session?”

Lydia’s eyes narrow, and then she shrugs. “Sounds like fun. I’ll see you then.”

She heads out as Stiles shoves his things into his backpack, looping Batman’s leash over his wrist. “Is it weird that things feel so normal?”

Danny snorts. “No, I just think your view of reality is warped. Things are supposed to feel normal.” He pauses. “Are you going back out to the clearing today?”

“No, I promised Moira that I’d only go once a week, and only with her supervision,” Stiles admits. “We’ve been working that into my Sunday lessons.”

“And how hard was that for you to agree to?” Danny teases.

Stiles shakes his head. “After everything that’s happened? I’m willing to do pretty much whatever Moira asks of me.”

It goes further than that, though. There are very few people in Stiles’ life since his mom died that he can trust to be there for him no matter what.

Stiles loves his dad, but he’s always known that he shares him with the rest of the county. He loves Scott, but after Allison, Stiles knows that there’s going to be a day when he loses Scott, too. Moira, though, views Stiles as her primary responsibility.

“I get it,” Danny says unexpectedly. “I feel the same way about Tutu.”

Stiles frowns. “Does that whole thing make us like step-grandkids or something?”

Danny rolls his eyes, but it’s good natured. “Don’t label it, Stiles.”

“Fair enough,” Stiles replies, then heads off to his next class, which doesn’t include Danny.

He’s glad that Batman’s presence is no longer remarkable. There aren’t curious looks anymore, and no one tries to pet Batman. Stiles gets through the rest of the day, and everything is very, very normal.

Stiles doesn’t trust it, but he’s learning to enjoy it a bit. He’s had enough excitement to last several lifetimes.

He’s at his locker at the end of the day when Scott shows up. “Do you have a lesson today?”

Stiles glances at him. “It is Tuesday, so yes. You have a shift at the shelter, right?”

Scott nods, but he appears troubled. “I asked Kira out on a date on Friday.”

Stiles finishes loading up his backpack. “Mazel tov.”

“I haven’t told her about Allison yet,” Scott confesses as they walk out of the school.”

Stiles looks at him. “Scotty, man, you know I love you, but the chances of Kira not having heard the whole gruesome story is basically slim to none. Yes, she should hear it from you, but you have a lot of things going on that don’t involve your ex-girlfriend or other things having to do with the full moon.”

He pauses. “Besides, Kate’s plea deal made the local news, so she certainly heard about that.”

Scott sighs. “I’m just worried.”

“About what?” Stiles asks. They’re standing by Scott’s bike, and Stiles knows he needs to get home to meet Moira.

“Kira thinks her parents want to move back to New York now that the nogitsune is gone,” Scott says. “And I don’t want to start something if she’s just going to leave.”

Stiles has had enough therapy at this point that he thinks he could convincingly play a therapist on TV. “So what? Enjoy what you have now. We’ve both had experiences that have shown us just how short life can be. Don’t take it seriously—until it gets serious.”

Scott bobs his head. “Thanks, Stiles. That’s—that’s actually good advice.”

“Well, I’ve received enough of it,” Stiles jokes. “I’ll see you later?”

“Probably not,” Scott admits. “Mom is off tonight, and she said she wanted me at home. I think Isaac is going to eat dinner with us, but Boyd has a shift.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Stiles replies.

He’s not surprised to find Moira in the kitchen with Derek, or to smell something cooking. “Hey, what’s that I smell?”

“Right now, it’s a batch of cookies,” Moira replies.

“And I’ll start dinner in a bit,” Derek adds. “I’m trying a new recipe tonight, since I think it’s just us and the girls—chicken paprikash.”

Stiles grins. “I think I remember my mom making that a couple of times.”

“I hope it tastes good,” Derek replies. “It should be ready by the time you finish your lesson.”

“Awesome,” Stiles says. “When does your next module start again?”

“Five weeks,” Derek replies. “To be honest, I’m enjoying the break. I’ve been working ahead as much as I can since I know that the Eichen House investigation is going to take up a lot of time.”

Stiles grabs a cooling cookie from a wire rack on the counter. “Yeah, I figured. At least Brunski isn’t in a position to hurt anyone.”

Moira is packing some cookies in a container. “You’ll keep an eye on those last trays, Derek?”

Derek nods. “Of course.”

Stiles grabs a second cookie, and follows Moira out to her vehicle.

“Anything interesting happen today?” Stiles asks.

“I worked on some ward stones for a new client,” Moira replies. Stiles knows his expression makes his disappointment clear, and she adds, “With new clients, I don’t want them getting any ideas. They only paid for the basic set.”

“And I might accidentally power them up a little too much,” Stiles adds with understanding.

Moira nods, climbing behind the wheel, handing the container of cookies to Stiles after he’s secured Batman in the backseat. “Eventually, it won’t matter so much, and may even be to our advantage for people to understand just how much power we have. Right now, that’s not the case.”

Stiles is still a little disappointed, mostly because he really enjoys creating wards. Pretty much every location in Beacon Hills that can and should be warded has been, so working on projects for Moira’s clients is something new and different.

She’s allowed him to assist on a few projects, but only for long-standing clients that she trusts not to ask too many questions.

“I get it,” Stiles says. “Danny and I asked Lydia to join us today, and she agreed.”

Moira nods, apparently satisfied with that bit of news. “Good. I’d like to see how she does in the circle with us.”

“Since she’s a banshee, would she be able to forecast death?” Stiles asks.

“Not exactly,” Moira replies. “Banshees can sense connections, though, and I’d like to find out what, if anything, she can sense when you use the rune stones, and when I use the scrying bowl. It might be nothing, but perhaps we’ll be surprised.”

Stiles hums under his breath. “I have to admit to a little curiosity about Lydia’s gifts. Maybe it was just a coincidence, but her tip led my dad to Brunski, which then led us to Malia.”

Moira nods. “Malia seems to be doing better.”

Stiles concentrates on her pack bond. He can feel everyone added to the pack from the bite, but the bonds he created give him more information.

“I think knowing she has an Alpha really helped,” he finally says. “Erica has been kind of taking the lead with her. Cora’s a bit feral herself, so she and Malia definitely vibe.”

“Yes, well,” Moira begins, and then stops.

“Are you involved somehow?” Stiles asks suspiciously, because he knows what Moira sounds like when she’s interfering.

Moira shakes her head. “Not exactly. Tate left Malia at Eichen House, and then left Beacon Hills of his own accord.”

“But he’s not going to be returning any time soon, is he?” Stiles asks.

“No, he’s not, but I didn’t have anything to do with that either,” Moira says. “It’s not really a surprise. He has to know that he would likely be charged with child abandonment if he returns, and he knows about Malia’s role in the deaths of his wife and younger daughter.”

“But?” Stiles prompts as they pull up in front of Danny’s house.

“But I may have quieted Malia’s desire to reconnect with him,” Moira replies. “And I’ve encouraged her to feel at home with the pack.”

Things start to fall into place. “The blanket?” Stiles asks, letting Batman out of the back.

Batman shakes himself and whuffs at him.

Moira slings her bag over her shoulder. “I had a feeling we’d need something like that eventually,” she confirms.

Stiles knows that Moira’s gifts are in high demand, and most of the pack members—the younger ones, anyway—have one now. She also seems to have one in reserve at all times, just in case they have another situation like the one with Cora, or Malia, where someone needs a comfort item to feel at home.

“That seems to be how we’ll probably add pack members in the future,” Stiles says. “It’s not about size anymore; it’s about individual needs.”

“Precisely,” Moira agrees. “Although, by being more flexible about how people are added to the pack, and what being pack means, your father got to the right size quickly.”

The door swings open as they approach, with Danny on the other side. His dark eyes land on the cookie container that Stiles is holding, and he grins. “You brought snacks.”

“That was all Moira,” Stiles replies, handing off the container.

“Come on in,” Danny says. “Lydia arrived a few minutes ago. We decided to use the basement workroom today.”

Stiles prefers to work outside, because he finds it more comfortable to his magic, even if it’s hot or cold. The day is chilly, though, and they have Lydia with them, so he resolves not to complain.

Lydia is in the kitchen with Alana and Noelani, drinking a diet soda.

“Hello again, Lydia,” Moira says.

“Hello,” Lydia replies politely. “It’s nice to see you again, Ms. Keynes.”

“I think you can call me Moira,” she replies, pausing to give Noelani a quick kiss on the lips. “I brought cookies.”

Noelani’s eyes light up. “Are those the dark chocolate chunk cookies?”

“With macadamia nuts,” Moira confirms.

Noelani winks at Stiles. “I know most people prefer white chocolate with macadamia, but I’m a sucker for anything dark chocolate.”

“Me, too,” Lydia says, eyeing the container.

“Go on, dear,” Alana says knowingly. “One cookie won’t kill you, and magic tends to use energy—more energy than you might think.”

Once they’ve all eaten their cookies, Alana leads the way down to the basement. Stiles immediately notices a difference in the way the space feels as they enter the workroom set in a corner.

“Did you guys do something different?” Stiles asks.

Noelani nods. “Well caught, young spark. Now that we’re forming a full coven, the space needs to be comfortable for those of all affinities, including the earth. We changed the configuration of the circle slightly to allow for that.”

“It feels more welcoming,” Stiles admits.

“You have a strong affinity for the earth,” Alana replies. “We reinforced that aspect in particular.” She looks at Lydia with kind, dark eyes. “Do you have any questions, Lydia?”

“I have a lot of questions,” Lydia replies. “I’m not even sure where to start.”

The workroom reminds Stiles a bit of Iwan’s tattoo parlor, since it has a protective circle inlaid into the concrete floor, which has been highly polished. Stiles has only been in the workroom a couple of times, but he can identify several new symbols etched into the floor.

He doesn’t recognize them, so he leans down to get a closer look. “Are these—“

“From our own folkways?” Alana asks. “They are. We’re versed in Moira’s as well, but even though this circle is for the coven—“

“It’s still your circle in your basement,” Moira says with an understanding smile. “I believe we have something similar planned for the new pack house. There will be times when my traditions are better suited for the occasion, and times when yours will be.” She pauses. “And perhaps Stiles will create his own traditions that work uniquely to him.”

Lydia frowns. “I don’t understand.”

“Every culture has their own traditions and rituals, yes?” Noelani asks. “Our magic is rooted in the Hawaiian folkways. Moira’s is more rooted in the Celtic pagan traditions.”

Lydia turns to Stiles. “What about you?”

“I don’t really need rituals,” Stiles replies. “But sometimes they’re helpful with getting into the right head space.”

Lydia shakes her head. “I don’t understand.”

“The important part is that Stiles’ magical potential is similar to what he’s said your intellectual potential is,” Moira inserts. “Almost unmatched.”

The light dawns, and Lydia says, “Okay. I don’t know anything about this, and my teacher said that I might not be any use in a magical circle, but I do think it’s interesting.”

“Let’s start with rune stones,” Moira says. “Alana, will you hold the space for us?”

“Of course,” Alana replies.

Stiles immediately realizes what role Moira will ask Lydia to take. She doesn’t come right out and say it, but as she arranges them around the circle, Lydia is at clearly positioned where someone would be for spirit.

Moira pulls the silk cloth out of her bag, and then the bag of rune stones, handing it to Stiles.

“What do those do?” Lydia asks.

“I ask questions, and I get answers—or at least vague directions—depending on which stones land face-up,” Stiles explains. “It’s not an exact science.”

Lydia’s nose wrinkles. “That seems terribly imprecise.”

“I can’t say it isn’t,” Stiles admits.

“It helps to have a knack for it,” Moira replies. “If you don’t, they’re rather frustrating.”

Stiles holds the bag in his hand, tossing it in the air a couple of times. “I have no idea what to ask.”

There’s no real enemy that he knows of, and no pressing questions for the pack. Maybe if the rune stones could tell him where to find Brunski’s diary of all the murders he committed, he might ask for that, but Brunski is a human, and human justice has to suffice.

“Let’s go with a generic question,” Moira suggests. “Ask it what’s coming.”

Lydia grimaces, but Stiles had asked the stones what was coming before and got an idea of Kira and her family’s role in things. It’s worth a shot.

“Is there anything coming that we should worry about?” Stiles asks.

The runes that land face-up are not comforting.

“Nauthiz, hagalaz, eihwaz, and perthro,” Stiles says. “Basically, conflict, wrath or being tested, death, and mystery. In short, nothing great!”

“There are more positive readings,” Moira suggests gently.

Stiles leans closer. “That’s not what they’re telling me. I’m just getting a lot of doom out of it.”

He knows there are more positive readings for all of the runes, but this is part of Stiles’ gift. In this configuration, he’s not feeling hopeful.

“How are you getting that out of those?” Lydia asks.

Stiles thinks about the question for a moment. “Close your eyes.”

Lydia gives him a skeptical look, but Stiles knows she’s decided to engage with the process when she follows his instruction.

“Deep breath in, and let it out,” Stiles says, thinking about what Moira said about banshees. “On some level, you feel vibrations and connections. When you think you’ve tuned in, open your eyes.”

Lydia takes a deep, audible breath, and then her breathing slows. Stiles suspects that her teacher has been giving her similar instructions from the way she settles into it. Then Lydia opens her eyes—and she screams.

The sound has Stiles wanting to grab Batman, who’s in one corner of the room, watching the activities with interest.

After a long moment of silence once the scream ends, Lydia takes a deep breath. “Right. Stiles is right. There’s definitely death coming.”

Danny blinks. “Awesome,” he says faintly.

“And I think death might be coming for someone we know,” Lydia adds. “I don’t know why.”

That brings up another question for Stiles, and he scoops up the rune stones, saying, “Is it the supernatural under attack?”

Othala turns up, and it’s the only one that does. “Ancestry. That’s ambiguous.”

“I think that’s a yes,” Lydia replies.

Moira nods, as though she’s had something confirmed. “Stiles, I think we’ve asked all we can of the rune stones, but I’d like to try a true seeing.”

Stiles nods and pours the stones back into the bag, handing it to Moira. She puts it away, and pulls out the scrying bowl.

There’s a small fountain in one corner of the room, and Alana fills the bowl from that. She hands it to Moira, who places the bowl in the center of the circle.

“What are you looking for?” Stiles asks.

Moira frowns, apparently thinking about the question. “I’m going to ask who the target is. It might not be enough to provide a true seeing, but we’ll find out.”

“What do I need to do?” Lydia asks.

“Honestly, I’m hoping that you being here will give me some direction,” Moira replies.

Stiles is used to Moira staring into the bowl. If he uses it, he can make it project the images shown, but that seems to be a skill unique to Stiles.

“It’s hazy,” Moira finally says. “I’m getting flashes, but they’re moving so quickly that I can’t identify anyone.”

Stiles frowns. “Does that mean there’s a variety of targets?”

“It might,” Moira admits. “I’ll ask if there’s another pack being targeted. That might narrow things down.”

After a few more minutes, Moira makes an inquiring noise. “Dear heart? What does Satomi look like?”

“Japanese, older than us,” Noelani replies. “Why?”

“Because I think that her pack might be targeted,” Moira admits. “I know she’s been hesitant to meet with us, but now might be the time. If there’s someone—or a group of someones—targeting the supernatural, then I think it would be prudent to work together.”

Noelani nods. “I’ll speak with her, and emphasize the need. It may help we offer to meet with her emissary first.”

“Of course,” Moira replies. “Whatever makes her most comfortable.”

“And it would likely help if Stiles also attends the meeting,” Noelani adds.

Moira grimaces. “I won’t say no categorically.”

“Then I won’t offer it, but if she insists, I’ll let you know,” Noelani replies.

Moira drums her fingers on the side of the bowl, apparently deep in thought.

“What about asking who is doing the targeting?” Lydia suggests hesitantly.

“Not a bad idea,” Moira agrees, and then she looks again. “Hm. Interesting. I believe that Brunski would have been involved, but isn’t anymore.”

Stiles raises his eyebrows. “So, Dad’s investigation into Eichen House stopped him from targeting the supernatural?”

“It appears that way,” Moira agrees. “Based on the rune stones, there’s someone or something else that is likely to present a danger, though. We need to be careful, but there’s no cause for alarm at the moment.”

Noelani hums. “I’ll contact Satomi. If someone targets the supernatural in this area, we’ll all be in danger.”

“No one knows about me, though,” Lydia protests. “Other than the people in this room, and my teacher.”

Something occurs to Stiles. “Right, but given what we can do, isn’t there a possibility that there are other people who can sense the supernatural?”

“It’s entirely possible,” Moira admits. “Another banshee could do it, but there are other supernatural beings—those with the right gifts—who could, too.”

Lydia grimaces. “So, we just—wait?”

“No, we marshal our resources,” Moira corrects her. “And we continue to peer into the future as best we can. It’s the only thing we can do.”

Stiles shrugs. “The future is always uncertain. We need to be prepared to deal with whatever comes, one way or another.”

“I’m not used to this,” Lydia mutters.

“I hate to say it,” Stiles begins. “But you’ll get there.”

Lydia shakes her head. “I’m sure.”

She doesn’t sound at all sure, but Stiles also knows that Lydia has about as much say in being a banshee as he did about being a spark.

“But I’d like to continue to attend these lessons,” Lydia admits. “I understand that this isn’t something I can ignore.”

“I’m glad to know that my faith in your teacher was not misplaced,” Moira says dryly.

“I think my grandmother was a banshee,” Lydia says after a moment. “And I think it got her killed at Eichen House.”

Moira’s expression is soft with sympathy. “I’m very sorry to hear that, my dear.”

Lydia shakes her head, as though to push off the thoughts. “Yes, well, I’m hoping that Sheriff Stilinski can find some answers.”

“If anyone can, my dad will,” Stiles asserts.

“Are you doing anything for dinner, dear?” Noelani asks. “Because you’re welcome to stay if you’d like.”

Lydia shakes her head. “No, my mom and I always have dinner together on Tuesdays, but thank you.” She offers Moira a smile. “I really liked the cookies.”

“I’m glad,” Moira replies.

Danny gets to his feet. “I’ll show you out.”

That leaves Stiles with Moira, Alana, and Noelani. “What do you think, young spark?” Moira asks.

“I think that Lydia could be very useful, and that even beyond what the runes indicated, her screaming means that there’s death and mayhem coming,” Stiles finally says.

“We’re at a delicate moment,” Alana asserts. “The Nemeton is still drawing the supernatural here, but it’s yet not capable protecting the ley lines or anyone inside the territory.”

“Then it falls to us,” Noelani says simply.

To Stiles surprise, Moira starts laughing.

“What is it?” Noelani asks, a smile on her face, although her expression is vaguely bewildered.

“I think we’ve found our maiden, ladies,” Moira says.

Stiles frowns. “Like the Fates?”

“Your father was the one to ask if we were their embodiment,” Moira replies with a smile. “And we joked that we were short a maiden.”

Stiles raises his eyebrows. “Where does that leave Danny and me?”

“We’re not the Fates, so there’s no need to worry,” Moira assures him. “But even if we were, I believe that would leave you as our instrument, and Danny as our messenger.”

But there’s something about her words that rings true. Maybe they aren’t the Fates, but that doesn’t mean they don’t have a similar role to play.

~~~~~

Now that Derek has started working for the sheriff’s department, he just wants to get through the rest of his schooling and be done with it. He’s taking his last classes online for his BA, and will graduate in December. The next module starts in January, lasting a few months, which means he’ll be done in late spring.

Still, he’s enjoying the break. Construction on the new house is reaching a crucial point, requiring a lot of oversight, so Derek is there several times a week. He’s picking up more of the cooking and grocery shopping duties, and he’s started educating himself about the family finances.

That includes going through Peter’s laptop again for anything he can find.

And then Derek stumbles on a subfolder that’s several folders deep. Malia, Erica, and Cora are at the dining room table working on homework, while Derek is on Peter’s laptop. He would probably be at the station if he hadn’t maxed out his hours, but since he can’t work on that, he has an itch to look at another mystery.

Derek might have caught the bug. Stiles will be so pleased.

He opens up another file, and something immediately jumps out at him. Peter writes, We put that item in the vault.

“What vault?” Derek murmurs.

“What?” Erica asks.

Derek shakes his head. “My uncle mentioned a vault, but I don’t think he meant the one we used under the house.”

“Your mom knew a lot of stuff that she didn’t tell you, right?” Erica asks.

Derek nods. “That’s right.”

“So, maybe she stored certain, important things somewhere safe,” Erica suggests. “She couldn’t have known what was going to happen, but maybe there were things she didn’t really want her kids to find.”

Cora is nodding. “Mom hid things from us.”

“The question is where it is,” Derek mutters. “That part isn’t clear.”

Cora frowns. “Now that you mention it, there was that one time Mom took me to the high school.”

“Mom came to the high school all the time for my basketball games and Laura’s stuff,” Derek replies.

“Yeah, but you didn’t have a game, and Laura had graduated by then,” Cora replies. “She parked me in a hallway with a Gameboy and told me to stay put until she finished up.”

Derek considers Cora’s words, and he has an idea. Peter had a tendency to hide things, and to never be direct about anything, which means that he’s not going to come right out and say where the Hales’ hidden vault might be.

But Peter might have written down the coordinates somewhere.

Derek quickly does an internet search for the high school’s coordinates, then searches for them in the laptop’s files.

That pulls up a document with a list of coordinates with no descriptions, including the high school.

“Too bad it doesn’t include a location for the entrance,” Derek mutters. “If we went back to the high school, do you think you can locate the door Mom parked you next to?” he asks Cora.

She thinks about it for a long moment. “Yeah, I think so. I’m pretty sure it’s in the basement.”

Derek nods. “I’ll stop by after school tomorrow, and we’ll see if we can locate it. If anyone asks, I’m checking on you.”

Cora grins. “It’s like a secret mission.”

Erica wriggles in excitement. “Awesome. I’m down.”

“So am I,” Malia declares, and Derek thinks that where goes Erica, so go the other girls in the pack. He’s not mad about it; Erica has embraced being a wolf wholeheartedly. She’s embraced being a member of the pack with equal enthusiasm. With her leading the way, Cora and Malia will be fine.

Erica will make sure of it.

“All right,” Derek says. “Tomorrow afternoon it is.”

“Can we see the pack house after that?” Erica asks.

“Of course,” Derek replies. He knows that progress is moving quickly now, and things are changing day by day.

He also knows that Erica is eyeing the loft for the girls, especially with Malia added to their number. At least at the pack house, even if Erica has to sleep at her parents’ house, she’ll have the space to be with her pack mates.

Derek gets up to check on the chicken on the stove in a slow braise, and judges that it’s time to start the egg noodles.

His mind is occupied with what he might find in the vault as he gets the water boiling.

“Can I help?” Cora asks.

“I’m just going to cut up some raw veggies to placate Moira,” Derek replies.

“Point me at it,” Cora replies. “I feel like we haven’t been able to spend much time together.”

Derek pauses. Initially, he wants to take that as a critique, but Derek has been working with Jack at not being so reactive. “I’m sorry,” he offers.

“No, don’t apologize,” Cora orders. “We didn’t spend that much time together before the fire either. It makes sense that we have to work on it.”

Derek thinks about that for a moment. In a family pack, it hadn’t seemed as important to be intentional about spending time together. In fact, Derek had longed to escape, to spend time with his friends instead of his parents and siblings.

That’s not the case now, though. They all have school and jobs and extracurricular activities. Spending time together is as much a choice as anything else they do, and if they want to build their relationship, that’s going to have to be intentional, too.

“I think we should try,” Derek offers.

Cora smiles. “I’d like that. I still don’t see the point of running, but maybe something else.”

Derek chuckles. “Fair enough. We’ll figure it out.”

He pours the egg noodles into the boiling water and starts to chop the parsley as Cora cuts up the carrots and celery to serve on the side.

“What part do you not understand?” Erica asks Malia in the dining room.

“All of it,” Malia moans. “I’m going to flunk out, and it’s not like I can tell normal people that I spent the last eight years as a feral coyote.”

“You’re not going to fail,” Erica insists. “And we don’t have to tell people that you were a feral coyote. We can say you were kidnapped and kept in a psycho’s basement. That explains basically everything.”

Derek snorts. “Is that the story Erica is going with?”

Cora shrugs. “We have to tell people something, so that’s what we went with. It explains why her dad thought Eichen House was a good place for her, too.”

Derek has to admit they have a point. “And her staying with the sheriff?”

“Protective custody,” Cora replies. “That story was even easier, especially since the investigation into Eichen House has been in the news.”

“We can get a tutor, or multiple tutors,” Derek replies. “I’ll start looking. Maybe even someone who’s pack-adjacent.”

Stiles is a little too busy to give Malia all the help she needs, and Danny is as well. Derek isn’t sure who else would suit, but surely there’s someone who could offer their tutoring services.

As though his thoughts had summoned him, Derek hears the front door open. “Hey all!” Stiles calls out.

Derek hears the tell-tale sounds of Stiles taking Batman’s vest and leash off. “Okay, you’re off duty, buddy. How is everybody doing?”

“I can’t do math,” Malia complains. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Dinner is in five!” Derek calls.

“Put it aside for now,” Moira advises her. “We’ll take a look after we eat. You’ll think better after a meal anyway.”

Derek drains the noodles and tosses them with butter and parsley, then calls, “Come and get it.”

They dish up from the stove to save on dishes, although Derek puts the carrots and celery on the table for everyone.

“How did things go today?” Derek asks. “Did Lydia join you?”

Stiles nods. “It was—interesting. She screamed for one of the runic configurations, but we couldn’t really see anything in the scrying bowl other than flashes. We think someone will target the supernatural, and that they were originally going to use Brunski, since that’s the one person we could see clearly.”

“But he’s in jail,” Derek comments.

“Where he’ll stay,” Stiles affirms. “So, maybe Lydia’s tip and my dad’s investigation bought us a little time before anyone acts. We’ll keep an eye on things.”

Stiles spoons additional gravy over his noodles. “This looks and smells great, Der.”

“I hope it tastes just as good,” Derek replies.

It’s a smaller group than usual, just Moira, Stiles, Derek, and the girls. Malia falls on the food like she’s starving, as though she hadn’t had an afterschool snack, and then seemingly remembers that she’s supposed to use her manners.

Erica spent so long not enjoying her food that she never takes it for granted, and she moans around a mouth full of noodles and chicken. “This is so good, Derek.”

“It really is, boyo,” Moira adds. “You’re really coming along.”

Derek shrugs modestly. “I’m never going to be a chef, but I do like feeding people.”

It’s a simple way to care for his pack, requiring a little planning and effort, but Derek feels like it’s worth doing. Just the act of sitting down together, even if it’s a smaller group, helps to reinforce the bonds that will keep them together.

“What are the next steps?” Derek asks Moira.

“Noelani is going to approach Satomi on our behalf,” Moira replies. “She may or may not be receptive.”

“It’s been teased for a while, hasn’t it?” Stiles asks. “I mean, we keep talking about it.”

Moira shakes her head. “You saw how Noshiko responded to the pack, and another werewolf pack may be even more cautious given how much attention the Hale pack has garnered from the hunters.”

Stiles frowns. “But Dad dealt with them.”

“We’re a stalking horse,” Derek says, the realization coming swiftly and certainly. “Even if they meet with us, they’ll probably always see us as a potential shield.”

“Just so,” Moira agrees. “And due to the nature of Noah’s position in the county, he’ll likely always be something of a shield.”

Stiles sighs. “Well, that’s the whole point of a stalking horse, isn’t it?”

Malia frowns. “I don’t know what that is.”

“The idea, in this instance, is a distraction for the enemy, or for the thing you’re hunting,” Moira explains. “The enemy, or the prey, sees the distraction and doesn’t pay attention to you.”

Malia nods slowly, and Derek suspects that the hunting analogy has set her at ease, and is something that she can understand. Malia had been hunting her own dinner for years.

“Like when a mother bird acts injured to lead you away from the nest of baby birds,” Malia says.

“Precisely,” Moira says approvingly. “Now, what’s troubling you about math?”

“I hate it,” Malia replies. “What are the letters even supposed to mean?”

Cora grimaces. “Algebra. The letters stand in for numbers.”

“Letters and numbers aren’t the same thing!” Malia protests.

Moira gives her a sympathetic look. “No, they aren’t. We’ll get you a tutor, dear, someone who can walk you through everything you don’t know, to get you to where you need to be.”

“A tutor?” Malia asks. “I thought I was just supposed to figure it out.”

Stiles shakes his head. “We can find help. There’s no shame in that. It’s not like you had the eight years of foundational principles needed in order to make algebra make sense.”

“I have no idea what you just said,” Malia admits.

“What does it take to be a good hunter?” Derek asks quietly.

Malia frowns. “You have to know your prey, I guess. And your own abilities, your strengths and weaknesses.”

“How long does it take?” Derek asks.

Malia shrugs. “Depends on your observational skills.”

“So, if there was someone to teach you, to explain how prey behaves, and how to hunt it?” Derek prompts.

“It would be faster,” Malia says.

“Do you want to stay in school?” Moira asks gently. “You could stay out for the rest of the year, use tutors to catch up, then rejoin your pack mates.”

Malia shakes her head. “No, I need to be with them. That would feel wrong.”

“Okay, tutors it is,” Moira replies. “I’ll start working on that tomorrow.”

“Meanwhile, tonight, let’s see if we can make it make a little more sense,” Stiles says. “Maybe we can figure out a workaround, or I’ll help you a lot until you get more caught up.”

“She’s not going to learn like that, Stiles,” Moira reproves.

Stiles gives her a look. “I know, but she shouldn’t have to get failing grades just because she got stuck in were-coyote form for eight years. We’ll just help her fake it until she makes it, unless there’s a way to beam eight years of school into her brain with magic.”

“Don’t even try it,” Moira says, a forbidding note in her voice. “While it might be possible, you don’t know what kind of damage it would cause. It might be none, or it might be a lot.”

Stiles nods. “I understand. I won’t mess with people’s brains.”

Derek suspects that he’s thinking of Jackson, and fucking with his brain.

Derek makes a bid to change the subject. “Peter made a reference to a vault under the high school. I’m going to check it out after classes are over tomorrow.”

Stiles grimaces. “I have krav maga tomorrow.”

“I know,” Derek replies. “But not until 5. So, there’s a little time after last bell if you wanted to join us.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “I am expecting a cave of wonders, Derek, and if that exists, we’re not going to have enough time to explore.”

“You won’t,” Derek counters. “I’ll have plenty of time to explore to my heart’s content.”

Moira hums thoughtfully. “I would like to see this vault at some point, if you don’t mind, Derek. There might be artifacts in there that are related to the emissary, or past emissaries.”

Derek doesn’t have a problem with that. “No, of course not, you’d be welcome. I have no idea what we’re going to find, to be honest.”

“It’ll be an adventure,” Stiles says. “Now, let’s get the kitchen cleaned up, and see what we can do about algebra.”

Derek really doesn’t think that’s going to go well, but after the kitchen is clean, Stiles says, “Right. Letters are not numbers, but! Let’s look at the completed equation so you can see what the result is supposed to be.” Stiles says. “Let me grab my murder board.”

“Why would a murder board have anything to do with math?” Malia asks, clearly bewildered.

Derek has a little bit more of an idea when Stiles brings down his cork board with a bunch of different colored Post-It notes.

“Okay, I think I’ve figured out the problem,” Stiles announces.

Batman is following him, and his white eyebrows give him an incredulous expression similar to the one Malia is wearing.

“What is the problem, Doctor Strange?” Erica asks, leaning back in her chair.

“How is Malia supposed to know how to solve algebraic equations if she doesn’t know how to do multiplication?” Stiles asks.

“I know multiplication,” Malia protests. “But only up to fours.”

“So, we’re going to start with a refresher on one through four,” Stiles says. “But in the meantime, we’re going to talk about how algebra works, and why letters actually make sense, with visual aids.”

Derek sits down at the table, because he really wants to see this.

Stiles starts drawing symbols and numbers on Post-Its, and then he slaps up 2+2=4.

“A five year old knows that,” Malia says, sounding about two seconds away from tearing Stiles’ throat out.

“Right,” Stiles replies. “But here.” He swaps a 2 out for an x. “So, you know that two plus two equals four, but you swap out a two for an x, which is a stalking horse for…”

He tails off, looking at Malia expectantly.

Malia’s eyes light up. “Oh! The x is two!”

“You just did algebra!” Stiles says. “But that’s why algebra requires knowing the basics, and if you don’t, it’s not going to make even a little bit of sense.”

Malia glares at him. “Then how am I supposed to figure it out?”

“As each problem comes up, we’ll figure out the math behind it, and then figure out the algebra problem,” Stiles explains. “And before you say it, I know it’s going to take time, but the tutor will help, and we’ll get there.”

Malia says, “Replace the x with the two again.”

Stiles obliges.

Malia smirks. “I’m just messing with you. I get it.”

Stiles points at her. “That was funny. Good. Sense of humor, I love it. You’ll probably need it to deal with math.”

“History, too,” Cora mutters.

Derek is actually impressed. He’d had no idea how to explain why letters stood in for numbers in algebra, but Stiles has managed to explain it in a way that Malia understands.

The going is slow, but Stiles at least manages to get Malia through her math homework. “I wonder if getting a dyscalculia diagnosis would help,” he muses as they finish up.

Derek isn’t sure what that means, but Moira says, “Let’s see if we can solve this with tutors first. The strategies to address dyscalculia are going to be different than what’s required to catch up.”

“True,” Stiles acknowledges. “I get it.”

“Where is everyone staying tonight?” Derek asks.

Erica gives Stiles a hopeful look. “Do you think your dad would mind if we stay here?”

“Of course not,” Stiles replies immediately.

“I sleep better here,” Malia admits. “I can smell the Alpha, even if he’s not here.”

Derek checks the time on his phone. It’s getting late—almost ten pm—and Noah hasn’t shown up yet. Of course, as the sheriff, he’s on salary, which means he can rack up the hours and drive himself harder than he does his deputies, which he often does.

“Probably best that you guys stay here anyway,” Derek comments. “It’s getting late.”

“I’ll grab the bedding,” Cora announces, heading down to the basement, Malia on her heels.

Moira stands up. “Well done today, Stiles. I have a client consult tomorrow, so I may not see you, but you can call if you need me.”

Stiles nods. “Good luck!” he replies cheerfully.

Once again, Derek thinks it will be good to have the pack house done. He wishes it would be completed in time for the holidays, but they’re on schedule to finish in late January or early February.

The girls bed down in the living room, while Stiles and Derek head upstairs. Derek has his door open a crack, reading ahead for his third module, waiting until he’s tired enough to sleep, when he hears the sounds of Noah arriving.

He glances at the clock, seeing that it’s now close to midnight, which means that Noah is definitely burning the candle at both ends.

Derek hears him making his way down the hall, poking his head into Stiles’ room, then stopping by Derek’s.

“You’re still up?” Noah murmurs.

Derek holds up the textbook. “Thought I’d read ahead, and I wasn’t all that tired yet.”

Noah slips inside and closes the door behind him, probably to avoid waking any of the kids. “I see the girls stayed over.”

“Malia said she sleeps better here, and they were working on homework until late,” Derek replies. “Malia’s struggling with her classes.”

Noah sighs. “I can’t say I’m surprised by that.” He scrubs his hands over his face. “Actually, I’d be more surprised if she weren’t. I should work on finding her a tutor.”

“Moira’s on it,” Derek replies. “You have your hands full, and if Moira can’t find someone, I probably can.”

Noah sighs. “I appreciate the help. This investigation is going to take a lot of time and resources, although the BI will help some.”

“Let me know if there’s anything else I can do,” Derek offers. “I know there are some restrictions at the station, but if there’s more I can do at the house, or for the kids, I’m happy to take that on.”

Noah smiles. “I appreciate that, Derek. I couldn’t keep things together without you, that’s for sure.” He sighs. “I need to turn in. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Derek realizes that part of what has been keeping him awake is the need to know his Alpha is safe at home. As soon as he hears Noah’s door close, he sets his book aside, and he drops off to sleep almost immediately.

When his alarm goes off the next morning, Derek is grateful that he doesn’t need much sleep. He’s working 7 to 3, so he rolls out of bed and pulls on his uniform.

Stiles’ door is closed, and the girls are still asleep in the living room. No one else is up yet, it seems, so Derek starts the coffee pot for Noah and pours a bowl of cereal with milk. He finishes his breakfast without disturbing anyone and heads out.

Mark is already at the station when Derek arrives, and he waves him over. “The BI agent delivered. She got the electronic files released to us, so it should be a little easier going forward.”

Derek would have gone through every paper file if necessary, but he’s just as glad that he doesn’t have to. “Great. I’m surprised she got that done so fast.”

“The sheriff said she seemed pretty competent,” Mark admits. “She might not have much time to give us, but she does have a lot of contacts, and apparently a lot of influence.”

“We all bring something to the table,” Derek comments. “Where do you want me to start?”

Mark seems to think about it. “As much as we might want to spend most of our time on Eichen House, we have other crimes to solve, too.”

“Morning reports?” Derek asks.

Mark nods. “Morning reports.”

They spend the first three hours of Derek’s shift going over the morning reports, making phone calls to follow up with witnesses and court personnel, and calling the state lab to see if results have come in for pending tests on other cases.

Derek makes sure he documents everything, and once they work through all of that, Mark is ready to go out on patrol, but directs Derek to stay behind.

“Start working through the electronic files,” Mark says. “I’ll take you out on patrol tomorrow.”

Derek would rather go with him, but he understands the need, so he parks himself behind a computer.

Parrish comes in at noon to start his shift, and he has a paper bag from the local deli. “I got an extra roast beef sandwich if you want it,” he offers.

Derek realizes just how hungry he is, and how long ago breakfast had been. “That would be great. Thanks.”

“Of course,” Parrish says easily. “I figured if you didn’t want it, I could find a taker somewhere. How’s it going?”

“A lot easier with the electronic files,” Derek replies. “I’ve downloaded about a hundred, and run them through OCR to make it easier to search.”

Parrish nods. “Cool.”

“Eat your sandwich and then help Derek,” Tara tells Parrish as she walks past them. “We’ll go out on patrol later this afternoon.”

“Sounds good,” Parrish says cheerfully.

Searching through the records is at least a little less tedious when he’s with Parrish, and Derek gets through a dozen more files, adding the information he finds to their database.

He’s not sure how far back they’re going to go, but Brunski has worked at Eichen House for years, so probably at least as far back as when he started there.

That’s a lot of patients, though, and if Derek allows himself to think about it, he’ll get daunted. So, he only focuses on the file in front of him.

At three, Noah pats him on the shoulder. “Head home, Derek. What are your plans this afternoon?”

“I’m going to check out one of my family’s holdings, to see what I can find there,” Derek replies. “The girls asked to tag along, since it’s under the high school. Stiles is going to join us until his krav maga class starts.”

Noah nods. “Well, if you need anything, give me a call. I’m not sure when I’ll be home tonight, but I’ll try to be there earlier than last night.”

“But no promises,” Derek comments.

Noah just shakes his head. “You know how it goes.”

Derek goes home and changes out of his uniform, pulling on jeans, a burgundy henley, and his leather jacket. He drives over to the high school and parks, checking in at the office.

“I’m here to check on my sister,” Derek tells the secretary, Mrs. Jones. He’s pretty sure she’s worked here since his uncle was in high school.

“Oh, Deputy Hale, of course,” she says. “Stiles mentioned that you were wearing a badge now.”

Derek smiles. “I am, actually.”

“How wonderful,” she gushes. “And your sister is doing so well! She and Erica Reyes are just thick as thieves, and they’ve taken Malia Tate under their wing. It’s so nice to see.”

“Cora has a generous heart when she wants to,” Derek replies. “I appreciate hearing that.”

Stiles enters the office, and Derek wouldn’t be surprised to find out that Stiles had been keeping an eye out for him. “Hey, Derek.”

“Stiles,” Derek says. “How was your day?”

“Good,” Stiles says, although he rests a hand on Batman’s head. “I just saw Cora in the library if that’s who you’re here to see.”

“Am I good to go?” Derek asks.

“Of course, Deputy Hale,” Mrs. Jones replies.

Stiles snorts as they leave the office. “The badge will give you a lot of leeway.”

“If it gets me into our family vault, I’ll take it,” Derek replies. “Was Cora really in the library?”

Stiles smirks at him. “Well, she certainly was, but they’re keeping the coast clear for us right now.”

Derek follows Stiles to the hallway with the door that Cora had described, leading down to the basement. Sure enough, Cora is waiting for them, and she says, “Erica and Malia already went down.”

They’re alone in the hallway at least, so Derek waves Cora and Stiles ahead of him, following them down the stairs. He glances at the doorknob and sees that it’s been broken.

He suspects that was Erica’s work.

When they reach the basement, Erica calls, “I think I found something.”

Derek heads towards the sound of her voice with Stiles and Cora. Erica looks excited. “Here.”

On one of the walls in the far corner of the basement, there’s a triskele, and Derek leans in close to look.

“What’s the importance of that symbol?” Malia asks.

“It can mean a lot of things,” Derek murmurs. “My mom had a talisman with this symbol on it to help betas focus during their first shifts, to help with control. Each spiral represents alpha, beta, or omega, reminding ourselves of where we begin, and that we can either rise to become an alpha, or fall to being omega.”

He runs his fingers over the symbol and finds five slight indentations. Derek brings out his claws and slots them in, then twists his hand. The vault door slides open, and Derek steps inside.

“Dude,” Stiles says from behind him. “Was this basically the equivalent of a safety deposit box?”

“I guess it was,” Derek admits. “We stored a lot of important artifacts and family heirlooms in here. I—I think I’ve been here before, but I didn’t remember it. I’m not sure why.”

Stiles makes a thoughtful noise. “Well, your family hid a lot of things from you, and Moira has said that there’s a way for an alpha to get rid of or cover up memories.”

“Maybe,” Derek admits. “It’s certainly possible.”

He starts to wander around the room, stopping at a briefcase and opening it. He sees the bearer bonds and lets out a low whistle. “Well, fuck.”

Stiles looks over his shoulder. “Are those bearer bonds?”

“They are,” Derek replies. “And before you ask, I’m sure my family put them in here for safekeeping.”

“I guess they’re pretty safe,” Stiles says dubiously.

Derek shakes his head. “We’ll take them with us when we leave. I can understand why someone would think it’s a good idea to keep them here, but they’re untraceable.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Erica asks.

“Sure,” Derek replies. “If a member of the pack needs an untraceable source of income, but it also means that if someone steals them, they can use them without us having any recourse. They’re also just sitting here, rather than making more money.”

Malia holds up a metal disc. “What is this? There’s the symbol again.”

“That’s the talisman I was talking about. Mom had us stare at it during our early shifts,” Derek explains.

Cora is also wandering around the vault, picking things up and putting them down again. She picks up a folder from a shelf and flips through the documents inside.

“Uh, Derek?” Cora calls. “Why would Malia’s birth certificate be in our family vault?”

Derek closes the briefcase, and goes over to Cora and the folder she’s holding. He starts to flip through the documents inside, and he sees the birth certificate with the names of Malia’s birth mother and father—Corinne Malis and Peter Hale. Behind the birth certificate are adoption records, confirming that the Tates had adopted Malia.

“What is it?” Malia demands. “Is it bad?”

Derek shakes his head. “No, it’s not bad. At least, I don’t think so.” He sees some additional paperwork, signed by his mom, so it’s possible that Peter hadn’t even known about Malia, although his mom clearly did.

“What is it?” Malia demands.

“It looks like my uncle was your birth father,” Derek finally says. “I’m not sure whether he knew about you, though. There’s a report from a private investigator about the Tates, and it looks like my mom signed off on the contract to make sure they’d be a good family.”

Malia blinks. “Wait. What does that—what does that mean?”

“It means you’re our cousin,” Cora says, grabbing Malia in a tight hug. “It means we’re your family. Forever.”

Malia just looks bewildered. “I don’t understand.”

“We might never understand,” Derek admits. “Most of the people who knew the whole truth are dead. But Cora is right. Whatever happened, why my mom hid this information, why she might have hid it from—whoever, you’re our cousin.”

He joins the group hug, then motions to Erica and Stiles. “Come on. We’re all pack.”

“We should catalogue everything in here,” Stiles says. “I can set up a spreadsheet. I mean, if there are bearer bonds and adoption records, who knows what else there is? Maybe there’s even a history of the Nemeton, or more information on Deaton.”

“Maybe,” Derek says, but he tightens his arms around his family. His pack.

The entire contents of this vault could go up in smoke, and Derek would still have everything he needs.

~~~~~

Noah knows that he has to be careful not to push too hard. Slow and steady wins the race in any investigation where the perpetrator is in jail. If it’s a manhunt, if there are exigent circumstances, if they’re racing to save a life, it’s one thing.

But right now, it’s just the careful building of a case.

It’s the part of police work that Noah both loves and hates in equal measure. He’s good at it, so he loves it, but also, it’s tedious as fuck, as his kid might say.

But that means that Noah could very easily burn himself out and not see his pack for years, because that’s how long these investigations might take.

Dave sticks his head in Noah’s office around 8 pm. “Sir, I’m sorry if I’m overstepping, but you need to go home. We have things under control here, and your kid is texting me.”

“What is he texting you?” Noah asks, suddenly curious, although he knows that Stiles is close with the deputies who are also pack and not just pack-adjacent.

Dave shows his phone to Noah, and he just starts laughing helplessly. His kid has sent half a dozen pictures of Batman with his head on his paws, giving the camera the saddest possible puppy eyes.

“Stiles sent that to you knowing you’d show it to me,” Noah comments.

Dave shrugs. “I’m left hand, and Tara is gone for the day, so yeah. Your kid sends me sad dog pics to tell me to tell you to go home.”

“I’m glad that my son has decided to use his powers for good, instead of evil,” Noah replies. “But thank you.”

Dave tosses a set of keys to Noah. “If you want to pick up the doggos, you might be able to distract your kid from your ongoing absence.”

“Dave, you are a delight and a joy forever,” Noah says. “But mostly because of your dogs.”

Dave laughs. “Yeah, well, I don’t need game. I have settled into happily married life, and the dogs bring in the kids, so we’re covered.”

“Thanks,” Noah says. “I appreciate you looking out for me and the pack.”

“That’s kind of my job,” Dave replies.

Noah powers down his computer, and he does what Dave suggested—he goes and picks up Cocoa and Nibs from Dave’s place. They know him now, and Noah has done this a few times, so they’re excited to see him, knowing what’s coming.

“All right, guys, into the car,” Noah says. He doesn’t even bother with their leashes, knowing that they’ll follow his direction. The dogs know he’s the Alpha, and Noah trusts that, just like they trust him.

He gets them into the backseat, and heads home. He sees Isaac and Erica’s cars, Scott’s bike, Roscoe, the Camaro, Apparently, the whole pack is here, at least the younger members, and Noah gets it. He hasn’t been around much recently, and they need him.

It’s a different kind of need than what he feels in the station. More than anything else, they just need his presence and care, and he’s found that’s fulfilling in a different kind of way.

Noah lets the dogs out of the backseat and then into the house, where they’re immediately greeted by Batman, who whuffs, too well-behaved to bark.

Cocoa and Nibs are just as well-behaved, and they dance around, jumping on each other, whuffs of greeting and joy.

Stiles emerges from the living room, and he grins. “Dad! I wasn’t sure if my ploy would work.”

“The ploy was very successful,” Noah admits. “Dave sent the dogs in apology.”

He pulls Stiles in for a hug, holding him tightly. He’s doing this for his kid, and to save other people’s children, and having Stiles in his arms reminds him of that.

“Oh, dogs!” Isaac calls out. “Did Dave send them? Cocoa!”

There are calls from the rest of the kids, and the dogs make their rounds, sniffing and licking and accepting hugs.

Batman is a working dog, but Cocoa and Nibs are just pure joy.

“There’s a reason Dave’s my favorite deputy, and it’s mostly because of the dogs,” Stiles jokes.

“How was your day, kiddo?” Noah asks.

“School was fine, but there were some surprises in the vault,” Stiles replies. “We’re distracting ourselves with video games.”

“I’m going to find something to eat,” Noah says. “Come tell me all about it.”

Stiles follows him into the kitchen, and Derek is already there, pulling things out of the fridge. “We have leftovers from yesterday, leftover Chinese from tonight, and stuff for sandwiches,” Derek says.

“I’ll take the leftovers from yesterday,” Noah replies. As he starts dishing up, he asks, “What did you find in the vault?”

Derek takes a deep, audible breath. “Well, I found over a hundred million dollars in bearer bonds to start.”

Noah frowns. “Those are illegal in the U.S. now.”

Derek nods. “I’m aware. I did find the documentation, so I can at least redeem them with the Treasury Department. I’ll contact my financial advisor and the family lawyer tomorrow.”

Noah leans against the counter with his reheated food and says, “Sounds like a good plan, but I don’t think that’s all of it.”

“It’s not,” Derek admits, and he glances at Stiles.

Stiles grimaces. “It turns out that Talia Hale arranged for Peter’s daughter to be adopted.”

There’s only one adoptee in the pack, and Noah frowns. “Malia?”

Derek nods. “I brought that paperwork, too. It looks like my mom paid a PI to investigate the Tates to make sure it was a suitable placement. I think she hid it from Peter, though. If she hadn’t…”

Derek trails off, and allows the thought to remain unspoken, but Noah understands. Had Peter known he had a daughter, he would have sought her out, either before or after he became the Alpha.

“I suppose we’ll never know why unless your mom left some sort of clue behind,” Noah comments. Frankly, holding a seance to contact some of these people has crossed his mind more than once. Noah didn’t think he believed in that sort of thing, but he has real questions that he doesn’t think he’ll get answers to any other way.

Derek shakes his head. “No, and it seems like she might have been indirectly responsible for the deaths of Mrs. Tate and the younger daughter as a result. She would have known that as the daughter of two weres—a werewolf and a were-coyote—the chances of Malia not manifesting those abilities would have been slim to none.”

“So, she decided that hiding Malia was more important than ensuring that she had the support she needed during her first shift,” Noah muses.

Derek nods. “It seems that way. I’ve been reinforcing that she’s family with Malia. I’m not sure it’s all really sunk in yet.”

“All” likely includes the fact that her biological father is dead, that he had been a rampaging murderer, and that her biological family had set Malia up to have a first shift where she had no idea what was happening.

Noah hasn’t met anyone who has a bad word to say about Talia Hale, but he has questions about some of her decisions, to say the least.

“I’m sure your mom had her reasons, but I can’t really think that there’s any justification for that,” Noah mutters.

Stiles has been fairly quiet. Batman is still out in the living room with the other dogs and the rest of the kids. He’s drumming his fingers on the counter, and he says, “I think we need to catalog everything in the vault.”

“I agree,” Derek says. “We can start this weekend. There’s another entrance that isn’t inside the school. That one might be easier to access on the weekend, and I don’t work on Saturday.”

Stiles nods. “I don’t have anything better to do that day. Well, I have judo in the afternoon, but otherwise I’m free.”

Derek nods. “All right. Maybe we’ll find more information once we look through everything.”

Noah clears his throat. “I think I can take some time on Saturday if you want my company. I’d kind of like to see this vault.”

Derek nods. “You’d be welcome. Only a Hale shapeshifter can access the Hale vaults, and we have to use our claws to do it.”

“How many of these vaults are there, and why is one of them under the high school?” Noah asks.

Derek shrugs. “I don’t know how many for sure, and the vault was there before the high school was built. What little information I have, I gathered from Peter’s laptop. My family sold that land to the town when they moved out to the Preserve, and the town built the school on top of it. The memories my mom suppressed started coming back once I accessed it.”

“But why wouldn’t they have moved the vault?” Stiles asks. “I get that it has security, but if someone knew where it was, they could still blast it open. Wouldn’t they want those valuables somewhere a little more secure?”

Derek shakes his head. “I don’t know, Stiles. To be honest, I think it’s mostly because that’s how it was always done. Until the fire, there wasn’t anything that suggested we’d be vulnerable in that way.”

Noah wonders what might have happened had Talia survived the fire. What long-standing traditions would she have changed, realizing that they no longer served?

“We’ll probably never know,” Noah replies. “And maybe that helps us establish our own traditions, and avoid the mistakes of the past. If we don’t know what was done or why, we can come up with traditions that make sense for us.”

And keeping illegal bearer bonds certainly isn’t one of those things. He’s glad Derek is taking care of it.

Noah finishes his dinner, and then changes out of his uniform before he joins the kids in the living room. Stiles is sitting on the couch, Batman half in his lap, with Cocoa on the couch next to him. Nibs is on the floor between Isaac and Scott, happily accepting belly rubs.

Noah sits on the other end of the couch, and he has to admit that he doesn’t mind when Cocoa wriggles around to rest her head on his thigh.

He scratches her ears, and hears her sigh in bliss.

The kids have apparently moved on from their video games to a TV show. “What are we watching?”

“Friends marathon on one of the cable channels,” Stiles says. “We thought something low key might be the ticket tonight.” Stiles pauses. “Just don’t think too hard about the size of the apartments.”

That causes Noah to laugh. He realizes he needs this time with his pack probably as much as they need time with him.

Around 10, the boys start packing up to go home, as does Erica. It looks like Cora and Malia are going to stay, though, and Derek says, “You guys can take my room if you want. I’ll sleep down here in my fur.”

“Are you sure?” Cora asks. “We’re fine down here.”

Derek shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be just as comfortable on the couch, and Stiles is going to be covered in dogs.”

“Fact,” Stiles agrees.

“I should get to bed,” Noah says. “I’ll leave you to work out the sleeping arrangements.”

He’s happy to go to bed, and happy to know that his pack is safe.

Noah hates to admit it, but he’s starting to get used to careening from one emergency to the next. Granted, they have the investigation into the Hale murders they’re contributing to, and the one into Eichen House, but those don’t constitute emergencies.

If he wants to maintain strong, good relationships, he’s going to have to remember that.

The rest of the week, Noah makes an effort to be home at a reasonable hour, and to check in with Stiles and the pack members he doesn’t see at the station.

Friday night, they decide to invite everyone over for dinner, although Noah doesn’t make it mandatory. He just asks everyone to let Stiles know whether they’ll be able to make it, and to bring something to share if they are going to be there.

Derek grabs him late Friday afternoon before he gets off shift. “Did you want to come to the new house? The contractor wanted to meet with me to go over some change orders.”

“Sure, if you want me there,” Noah agrees easily. He knows that most of the pack members have visited the house at least once, but Noah has only seen it during the early stages.

“I’d like you there,” Derek admits. “I should introduce you to the contractor anyway, just in case I can’t make it over there in an emergency.”

Noah nods and checks the time. “Yeah, I can be ready to go in about an hour.”

Derek smiles briefly. “That works.”

Noah has every intention of not working over the weekend. He’s going to help Derek with the vault and get a few things done around the house. He’s leaving Mark in charge on Saturday, and Tara on Sunday as part of his resolution to actually spend more time at home.

And if he does decide to put some time in, he can do it from the house.

Granted, there’s every chance that he’ll wind up at the station for some emergency, but Noah is at least going to make an effort.

Noah powers down his computer and grabs his gun belt, buckling it on. Derek is waiting for him in the parking lot at the back of the station, standing next to his Camaro.

“I’ll follow you over,” Noah says.

He drives through the town out to the Preserve, keeping a sharp eye out as he does. Everything seems peaceful, though, and Noah knows it’s for the best if his constituents never find out just how much trouble Noah has nipped in the bud.

Noah has no idea how many lives they’ve saved, just by having a werewolf as sheriff, but he thinks it’s more than a few.

The Preserve is quiet for the most part, but there’s a battered pickup truck with Garza Construction on the side parked out front.

The man waiting for them on the front porch is wearing a worn leather work belt with tools hanging from it, his jeans and t-shirt paint-spattered, and a baseball cap pulled down low over his eyes.

“Mr. Hale,” he says.

Derek shakes his head. “What have I told you about that?”

“Derek,” he says. “You’d be shocked to know how many of my clients change their mind about something like that, especially when it’s in front of their boss or their wife.”

Noah takes that as his cue. “I’m Noah Stilinski.”

“Sheriff,” Luis replies. “I just want to let you know that I voted for you.”

“Much appreciated,” Noah replies. “But it’s not going to get you out of a ticket if I catch you speeding.”

It’s a tired, old joke, but it still pulls a smile out of Luis. “I can appreciate that, Sheriff. Let me show you what we’ve got, Derek.”

When they step inside, Noah can immediately see the potential in the open floor plan. The kitchen cabinets have been installed, and are just waiting for the counters. There’s a large area between the kitchen and what’s clearly going to be a den/rec room.

The paint is a light, but warm gray, the trim is white, and it seems to be finished. There’s a hallway leading to the back of the house, but they don’t head back that way. Instead, Luis leads them to a door off the kitchen, and then down a set of stairs.

The basement is open and unfinished, and Luis says, “I have a couple of options for you based on what you asked for. The outlet for the sewage line is in that corner, so I don’t think we should move the bathroom. However, I could put the vault you want in the opposite corner.”

Derek grimaces. “That would work. What about a bedroom?”

Luis points. “It would have to be in that area. There has to be a point of egress.”

“How many bedrooms are you looking for?” Noah asks, since he figures that’s part of why Derek had wanted his presence.

“The master bedroom is on the main floor,” Derek replies. “There are four bedrooms on the second floor, and the third floor has a loft space that could sleep or entertain several. I was hoping to have at least one more bedroom down here.”

Luis clears his throat. “There’s also the apartment above the garage that we talked about. That’s going to get finished last.”

Derek nods. “I figured as much.” He turns to look at Noah. “I was thinking that space could be Moira’s if she’s interested. The girls can take over the loft, and we’ll have enough bedrooms for anyone who wants to stay here.”

Noah understands what he’s asking. “That should be sufficient, even if there isn’t a bedroom down here.”

Mel might be fine with letting Scott sleep over, but she’s not going to let him move out until he leaves for college. Boyd or Isaac might decide to move in, but they’re both used to living on their own at this point, and they haven’t mentioned it.

“Derek said that you often host your son’s friends at your house,” Luis says, sounding both curious and careful.

“Stiles tends to collect people, and they often wind up at our place,” Noah says. “Two of them are emancipated, and we’ll probably be working on getting another through that legal process.”

Luis nods slowly. “Sounds like my mom’s house. She always had a crop of foundlings passing through. Given those requirements, may I make a suggestion?”

“Please,” Derek replies.

“Make the bathroom down here bigger, and separate the commode from the shower and sink, so two people can be in there at once if they don’t mind,” Luis suggests. “Make this a large rec room with a corner bedroom that can be used as a changing area. We can put storage down here for cots, foam mattresses, blankets and pillows.”

Derek nods slowly. “Yeah, that would work.”

Noah looks around the area and he can see it now. Really, their biggest problem is the lack of sufficient bathroom space, and this house will fix that.

Luis smiles. “Trust me, if people are going to be using your space as a crash pad, you don’t want to make it so comfortable that they never leave. You just want enough space to accommodate the people who really need it.”

Derek looks at Noah, and Noah says, “That’s a great suggestion.”

“Come on upstairs, and we can finalize the rest of it,” Luis says.

The bedrooms on the second floor are all a good size, and there’s a room at the end of the hallway with enough room for a couple of desks.

“I was thinking that we could use this as a home office, or space for homework,” Derek says.

There are also two bathrooms, one on either end of the hall, each big enough for a double vanity, a commode, and a spacious shower. The loft area has a small bathroom with a shower, sink and toilet, but it’s wide open otherwise. They could set it up dorm-style with bunk beds or even twin beds with privacy screens.

“This looks good,” Derek says.

“Really good,” Noah echoes. “This is better than I even imagined, Derek.”

Luis smiles. “Come on downstairs. I’m guessing you’re taking the master bedroom, Sheriff.”

Noah looks at Derek. “I think that’s up to him.”

“It’s your room, Noah,” Derek insists. “It makes sense, and there are a couple of other things I should show you before we leave.”

The master bedroom is large, big enough to accommodate a bed and sitting area, with a generous en suite bathroom. There are also double French doors that will open up onto a small patio once they get the landscaping done.

“This is incredible,” Noah says.

“Come outside,” Luis replies. “I think you’ll be happy about this, Derek.”

Noah had noticed the doors in the office on the second floor, and at the back of the room in the loft, and when they go behind the house, he can see the purpose. Luis had basically built a fire escape, with a wrought iron staircase going from each of those doors.

“You asked me to ensure that no one got trapped in case of a fire,” Luis says. “This was the best I could do.”

“This is great,” Derek says hoarsely. “I had no idea how nice it would look.”

“Just because something is functional doesn’t mean it can’t be attractive,” Luis replies.

“So you’ve said,” Derek replies. “With this, there are multiple points of egress, and not just windows.”

Luis grimaces. “I’m so sorry about your family, Derek. I’ve tried to put in as many safety measures as I could think of.”

Noah smiles. “That’s clear.”

“Do you have everything you need?” Derek asks. “We have a family dinner tonight.”

Luis nods. “I’ll call you with any other questions I haven’t thought of, but I think we’re good. You’re going to have a beautiful home at the end of this.”

“Thank you,” Derek replies.

Noah has to admit that he’s excited about the house for the first time. Up until now, he hasn’t had a lot of space to breathe, and he’s been focused what a pain moving will be. Now, he’s thinking about the possibilities.

“So, that’s the house,” Derek says when they’re back outside.

Noah claps Derek on the shoulder. “You’re building a real pack house.”

“It’s your house,” Derek counters.

Noah chuckles. “Sure, for now, but if anyone can figure out how I can pass on being an alpha to you and just retire, it’s my kid.”

“I hope that’s a lifetime from now,” Derek mutters.

Noah puts him on the back. “We’ll talk in another 20 years, how about that?”

Derek laughs. “Yeah, we can talk then.”

They drive back to the house, and the lights are all on. When they walk inside, there’s a clamoring for attention.

Noah holds up a hand. “Let us get changed, and then we can talk.”

There’s a cross country meet tomorrow, but nothing else so most of the younger members of the pack are present. Parrish has also shown up, and tonight is Dave and Paul’s night off, too.

Parrish has shown up with a crock pot full of chili con carne, and Dave and Paul turn up with a vat of tortilla soup between them. Isaac and Boyd bring a couple of veggie trays with dip, and Erica, Cora, and Malia have spent the afternoon making cookies.

His kid and Moira have apparently conspired with everyone else, and made guacamole and pico de gallo. It means that the burden of cooking hadn’t been on them, which is nice.

Once Noah has changed out of his uniform and into jeans and a flannel, Stiles sidles up to him in the kitchen as the rest of the pack dishes up. “So, uh, Scott had a date with Kira tonight, but he said they’d come by after that, and I invited Lydia. She said she’d be here.”

Noah catches the unspoken fear in Stiles’ voice. “Listen, kiddo, maybe just focus on getting to know Lydia right now. You’re figuring yourself out, but so is she. Be her friend, then figure out the rest of it.”

Stiles grimaces. “I know. That’s the general plan, Dad, but…”

Noah cups his son’s cheek, knowing that when his kid decides that he’s all in, he’s all in. “You have some years to play the field, Stiles. Safely, please, but still.”

“You knew Mom was the one, though,” Stiles says in an undertone.

Noah laughs. “Yeah, but I was about to separate from the Army when I met your mom, and if you think I didn’t use that uniform to my advantage, you’d be mistaken.”

Stiles laughs, although the sound is a little wet. “Thanks for doing this tonight. I think we all needed it.”

Noah pulls him close. “I know we did, kiddo. I’m sorry I got so caught up.”

“Only for a hot second in the grand scheme of things,” Stiles says. “But thank you.”

Noah cups the back of his head. “You keep me honest, Stiles.”

“I love you, Dad,” Stiles whispers.

Noah will never regret becoming a werewolf, not when he has this. Not when he has so many anchors to the living. “Love you, too, kiddo.”

He grabs a bowl of soup and goes to sit at the dining room table, and is soon joined by Isaac, Boyd, Moira, and Stiles. “Thanks for doing this, Sheriff,” Isaac says.

“It’s my pleasure,” Noah replies. “I take it you and Boyd don’t have hot dates tonight.”

Boyd snorts, and Noah can hear the girls giggle from the living room. “Erica has her hands full with Malia, and I understand that.”

Moira smiles. “I’ve been really impressed with how Erica has taken the lead.”

Boyd’s expression is both pleased and proud. “That’s my girl.”

Noah raises his eyebrows. “So, it’s official now?”

Boyd hesitates. “Yeah, it’s official, but we’re not labeling it. Since we’re going to the Winter Formal together, we figured it would come out.”

“It wasn’t much of a secret, dude,” Stiles points out.

Boyd shrugs. “There’s a difference between hooking up and being in a relationship.”

Noah isn’t sure he wants to hear any of this, but he keeps his mouth shut. He’s just glad they’re willing to talk to him about what’s going on. “How’s everything else going?” he asks.

Isaac shrugs. “Good. I’ll make honor roll this semester for sure.”

Boyd smiles. “Same.”

“That’s worth celebrating,” Stiles says. “What do you guys want to do?”

“I think everyone is going to make the honor roll this semester,” Isaac says, deflecting. “It’s kind of pointless to celebrate.”

“A celebration is never pointless,” Moira says firmly before Noah can. “You’ve all been working hard.”

Isaac grimaces. “I’ll still probably wind up with a B in history.”

Noah remembers that Isaac had been in conflict with his dad over a grade at the time of Lahey’s death. As Noah recalls, it hadn’t even been that bad of a grade, all things considered.

“But that means your other grades are good enough to get you on the honor roll,” Stiles argues. “And a B is still a good grade.”

Boyd gives Isaac a look. “What have I been telling you, bro?”

“Stiles and Moira are both right,” Noah says. “And you’ve been able to succeed even in the face of incredibly challenging circumstances.”

Isaac blushes. “I couldn’t have done it without the pack’s support.”

Boyd nods. “Yeah, it’s been good. It’s a definite improvement over how it was before.”

Boyd isn’t terribly effusive at the best of times, so Noah takes that as the high praise it is.

“You’re both doing really well,” Noah says. “And you should be proud of yourselves. Have you given any more thought to what you want to do after high school?”

They’re both halfway through junior year, but Noah hasn’t wanted to press too hard, knowing they both have a lot on their plates.

Boyd shrugs. “I used to think about maybe joining the military, but I don’t know if that’s even possible now.”

Paul is passing through the dining room as Boyd says that, and he says, “Let’s talk about that. If enlisting is something you still want to do, being a shifter wouldn’t preclude that if we take some precautions.”

Boyd blinks. “Really?”

“Sure,” Paul says easily. “I did my hitch as a were-coyote, and I did just fine. You have a strong Alpha, which is going to help even if you’re not in close proximity.”

Boyd’s expression lightens. “Yeah, I’d be interested in talking about it.”

“Come find me once you’re done eating,” Paul invites. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

“What about you?” Noah asks Isaac.

Isaac shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t really have a lot of interest in college, and I have no idea what I’d study if I did go.”

“What do you enjoy doing?” Moira asks.

Isaac shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t hate digging graves.”

“So, using heavy machinery is cool,” Stiles points out. “You could go for a certification in project management or seek an apprenticeship. Construction is always going to be a thing, but if you have a certificate or become a master whatever, you could actually be the boss.”

Isaac frowns thoughtfully. “I like that idea.”

“Plus, you’re a werewolf, dude,” Stiles points out. “The job is going to be a lot easier for you than for a regular human.”

Isaac nods. “I guess my dad just always expected me to go to college.”

“Nothing wrong with going to college,” Noah says. “There’s also nothing wrong with taking a little time to figure out what you want to do. You’ll be more invested if you know college is something you really want.”

Isaac glances at Noah. “You won’t be disappointed?”

“The only way I’d ever be disappointed is if you turned to a life of crime,” Noah replies. “Or if you didn’t try your best at whatever it is you decide to do.”

Isaac smiles slyly. “So, no half-assing things?”

Noah shakes his head. “No, make sure you whole-ass anything you do, unless it’s crime.”

Isaac holds up his hands. “Definitely no crime for me. I wouldn’t look good in orange.”

Boyd barks a laugh, as does Stiles, and that’s when the doorbell rings.

Stiles gets to his feet immediately. “I’ve got it.”

Noah realizes that a pack member would just walk in, and they’re not expecting anyone from the coven, although maybe they should have invited them. That leaves Lydia, and Noah knows that he’s not the only one who noticed Stiles’ eagerness.

Isaac shares a look with Boyd. “She grows on a person. Kind of like a fungus.”

“Fair,” Boyd agrees. “She’s been a lot friendlier recently.”

“She’s coming into her own,” Moira murmurs. “And she didn’t have an Alpha to shepherd her through it.”

After a few minutes, Stiles reappears with Lydia in tow. “Thanks for letting me come tonight, Sheriff,” she says politely.

“I think you can call me Noah, at least while we’re at home,” Noah replies. “I’m glad you could make it.”

Lydia shrugs. “Well, Danny is out on a date tonight, so this was—it was a welcome invitation.”

“Are you hungry?” Stiles asks. “There’s more food in the kitchen, or if you want something sweet, there are cookies.”

“I’m a little hungry,” Lydia admits.

Stiles’ smile is nervous. “I’ll show you back.”

“Stiles and Lydia, sitting in a tree,” Isaac says under his breath, too quiet for Stiles or Lydia to hear, but the rest of the table can catch it.

“Pretty sure he’s been in love with her since third grade,” Boyd comments. “Dreams, man, you gotta have them.”

Isaac nods. “Fair.”

Stiles returns with Lydia, and she has a bowl of chili with chips crumbled on top. “This is really good,” she says after the first bite.

“Parrish brought that,” Stiles says immediately. “I had some, too. It was really good. I think we should add him to the rotation.”

“The rotation?” Lydia asks.

“For cooking,” Stiles explains. “People who have the skills take turns.”

“What about the people who aren’t good at it?” Lydia asks.

Stiles shrugs. “They bring a bag of chips or a veggie tray. No sense in making everyone miserable.”

“Well, that I could do,” Lydia says. “Otherwise, my repertoire runs to salads and smoothies.”

Noah knows that his eyebrows have gone up at Lydia’s assumption that she would be included in that, but he can see Stiles’ desire to include her, so he keeps his opinion to himself.

But he sees the look that Boyd and Isaac exchange, and he knows he’s not alone in his surprise.

And then Scott arrives with Kira in tow, and the feeling of the gathering shifts from being about the pack to being a high school party—even if it’s rather tame. Dave, Paul, and Parrish leave soon after that, and Derek retires to his bedroom. Noah goes to the kitchen to help Moira finish cleaning up.

“How worried do I need to be?” Noah asks her.

She sighs. “Ah, Noah. Loss and hardship shape us into the people we become, just as much as joy does.”

Noah glances at her as he finishes putting the soup away. “Moira.”

“Lydia is a beautiful young woman who knows very well that she doesn’t have a future in Beacon Hills,” Moira says after a pause. “And Stiles is a young man who sees a beautiful young woman and isn’t necessarily thinking that he’s met the love of his life.”

“But he is someone who has a young woman giving him the time of day,” Noah says.

“It’s healthy,” Moira replies. “He hasn’t fallen all over himself, and he’s insisting that she treats the pack members right. He’s making her prove herself. But it’s good for him to have outside interests, besides the pack and magic.”

Noah grimaces. “I know you’re right. I just worry about him.”

“She’s not going to break his heart,” Moira replies. “Not more than the usual amount that comes from a first girlfriend or boyfriend. Frankly, she and Stiles weren’t on an even playing field before, and now they are. In fact, Stiles might have the advantage.”

“Because of his knowledge of the supernatural and magic,” Noah says.

Moira nods. “Indeed. She’ll be good for his confidence, and he’ll help ground her. I wouldn’t worry too much.”

Noah trusts her read on the situation. “Thank you.”

“If I thought they would be bad for each other, I’d very subtly steer Stiles away, but I think they’ll help each other grow in the long run,” Moira says. “And I’m glad you pulled your head out of your ass without me having to say anything.”

He sighs. “I’ve made mistakes with Stiles, and I know that. I’m trying to do better. I’ll get distracted again, I’m sure, but I have great people working for me, and the investigations are slow going. I can trust them to handle things this weekend so I can be with my pack.”

Noah will go to the cross country meet, he’ll help Derek with his family business, and he’ll take care of things around the house.

“You’re a good Alpha, and you’re a good father,” Moira says firmly. “And I appreciate both of those qualities.”

“What do you think is coming?” Noah asks. “Because I don’t trust the quiet.”

Moira shakes her head as she dries the crock pot that had held the tortilla soup. “I don’t know. I think we’ll just have to be vigilant.”

Noah can’t really disagree with that, and it’s no different than the usual course of events. They always have to be careful.

 

Chapter 2

Stiles doesn’t make it to a lot of the cross country meets, but his dad wants to go to support their pack members, and it turns out that Noelani and Alana are there for Danny, which means Moira is also present.

“Come join us,” Alana calls from the picnic blanket they’ve spread out near the finish line.

“We have coffee,” Noelani adds with a smile. “And donuts.”

Stiles is happy to join them. He has his own travel mug of coffee, but he skipped breakfast given the early hour. The werewolves are under strict orders to not give themselves away, so Stiles doesn’t expect any excitement.

“Moira thought you might be here,” Noelani says as she hands Stiles a butterscotch Long John.

Stiles happily takes a bite. “Thank you!”

“Where are the girls this morning?” Alana asks.

“Erica has an early shift, and Cora and Malia decided to sleep in,” Noah replies. “I thought we might get lunch after.”

“Or we could all go back to our place,” Alana suggests. “It’s the last cross country meet of the season, and Kekoa is cooking. We were planning to invite anyone we saw here, but it’s up to you.”

“That sounds great,” Noah replies. “And probably better than the pizza I was planning to provide.”

“It would be our pleasure,” Alana insists.

“Then we’re happy to accept,” his dad says.

Stiles appreciates the fact that the pack and the coven are getting closer, although it does push back the start time for cataloging Derek’s family vault.

“I have a prior engagement after that, though,” Noah adds. “I’ll let Stiles make his own call.”

“I promised I’d help Derek with the thing, too,” Stiles says, feeling the pull of loyalty towards Derek. “So if you don’t mind, we’ll both eat and run.”

Noelani pats Stiles on the shoulder. “Of course. Happy to have you for any length of time.”

The thing is, Stiles believes her. He’s been working on that with Jack, believing that the people who say he’s welcome are actually welcoming him.

Batman wriggles around to rest his head on Stiles thigh, letting out a happy noise. Stiles finishes his donut and allows Batman to lick his fingers clean.

Donuts aren’t good for dogs, but Batman deserves a taste at least.

Mel turns up around 10 am, which is right around when Scott and the other pack members are due to start their race. She comes to sit with them, looking a little wrung out.

“How are you, Mel?” his dad asks as she joins them.

She sighs. “It was a long shift, but I’m fine.”

His dad raises his eyebrows. “Anything I need to be worried about?”

Mel shakes her head. “Not unless someone has found a way to weaponize the norovirus. It was a lot of anti-nausea medications, IVs, and all of the bodily fluids.”

Stiles grimaces. “Gross.”

“That’s the word for it,” Mel agrees.

Stiles can see his dad’s relief. While a norovirus outbreak means a lot of puking, it’s nothing supernatural, and he knows that his dad is just as worried as he is about what might be coming. Something is; it’s just a question of time and threat level.

The first athlete across the finish line is Isaac, but Stiles has seen him move on the lacrosse field, and he knows Isaac had been fast even before the bite. Scott is close behind, followed by Boyd and Danny, meaning that Beacon Hills has dominated the varsity boys’ race.

Stiles wonders just how devastated Coach Finstock will be when Scott and the others graduate next year, especially since Finstock is at the finish line, shouting, “Yes! Yes! That’s right!”

Stiles is fairly entertained, but he also has a higher appreciation for Sensei OB’s understated style after witnessing Finstock’s antics.

Scott and the others approach, sweaty but clearly pleased with themselves. “Mom, I wasn’t sure if you were coming,” Scott says.

Mel gets up and pats his cheek. “I wanted to come to the last meet of the year.”

Scott frowns. “Are you okay? You look tired.”

“It was a long night,” Mel admits. “Lots of norovirus.”

Scott clearly knows what that means. “Ugh. I’m sorry.”

“Part of the job,” Mel says philosophically.

“Did you want to join us for lunch?” Alana asks. “We have enough for everyone if you do.”

Mel smiles. “That’s so kind, but I think I’m going to get some sleep.”

“Do you need anything?” Scott asks. “Is there anything I can do?”

“There’s about a mountain of laundry,” Mel admits. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

Scott smiles, clearly pleased to have been given a task. “I’ll take care of that tonight.”

Mel kisses his cheek. “Thank you, sweetheart. Congratulations on winning.”

Stiles has noticed that Scott is making more of an effort to pay attention to the people around him.

“Kira’s race is next,” Scott says. “I’m going to stick around until she’s done.”

Mel nods. “I’ll see you later then. If you decides to stay over at someone’s house tonight, let me know where, okay?”

“Sure, Mom,” Scott says easily.

Danny is stretching and cooling down, as are Isaac and Boyd. “Are you guys coming over for lunch?”

“That’s the plan,” Stiles replies. “We’re helping Derek with a project this afternoon, though, and then I have judo.”

No one seems to care that Stiles has judo or krav maga anymore, just like they don’t seem to be fazed by Stiles’ magic, or his involvement with the coven.

But then the pack is big enough that they don’t spend all their time together, and they all have other outlets.

“Great,” Danny says, sounding pleased.

Stiles wonders if Danny might be a bit lonely with Jackson gone. As far as he knows, Danny isn’t seeing anyone seriously, and while he’s friendly with a lot of people, Jackson had been his best friend.

“We were rather hoping to run into you all here,” Alana admits. “It’s been so nice getting to know Stiles.”

Stiles feels his face heat up. “Uh, thanks.”

“We’ve enjoyed getting to know more of Danny’s friends, too,” Noelani adds.

“The varsity girls’ race has started,” Isaac announces.

Scott bounces a bit in place. “I think Kira is going to take first place. She’s been running a lot, and she’s fast.”

Stiles is pleased to see Scott so excited about a new relationship, even if he’s taking things a lot slower than he had with Allison.

It also helps that Kira is a kitsune, and not from a hunting family.

Soon, Kira is crossing the finish line, and Scott is right: she comes in first by a few seconds.

Scott immediately runs over to congratulate her, and Kira gives him a big hug.

“Like a couple of puppies,” Moira murmurs.

Stiles laughs. “Yeah, something like that.”

There’s one more race after that, and they stay for the final. One of their rival schools takes first place, but a sophomore from Beacon Hills comes in second.

After that, they all pack up and head out. Alana insists that there’s no need to get cleaned up, and she extends the invitation for lunch to Kira as well.

Kira’s dimples flash as she smiles. “Oh, that’s so nice! My parents had a thing today, so they couldn’t be here, but I don’t want to impose.”

“There’s no imposition,” Alana insists. “We knew everyone would be here today, and wanted to invite all those who wanted to attend. Whatever doesn’t get eaten will go in the freezer.”

Stiles figures out what that means once they arrive, because there are spicy pulled pork sandwiches fresh from Kaleo’s smoker on Hawaiian buns, piles of coleslaw, and plenty of fresh veggies with dip. It’s the kind of thing that would be easy to portion out and freeze, then defrost for a quick dinner, but can also feed a crowd.

It’s also the first time they’ve all gathered at the Mahealanis’ house, and Kekoa seems genuinely happy to host everyone. They have the heat lamps on in the backyard, and Kekoa is speaking with his dad, Moira, Alana and Noelani. Scott is sitting close to Kira on a lounge chair, with Isaac and Boyd nearby.

“Dad never gets to do this,” Danny confides in a low voice as they eat their sandwiches. “He loves hosting, but his job keeps him on the road a lot, and I’ve never been one to have a lot of people over.”

“I just realized that I never asked, but how much does your dad know?” Stiles asks.

Danny shakes his head. “He knows as much as he wants to know, I guess. Tutu is the one with the real gift. Mom and I have some power, but nothing like her, and certainly nothing like you or Moira. Dad—he finds the whole thing mystifying, but he loves us, so he accepts it.”

“I’m pretty sure my dad finds magic mystifying,” Stiles says.

Danny laughs. “Lydia said she was going to your place last night.”

Stiles thinks about his response before he replies. “I know I’ve had a crush on her since grade school, but I want to take it slow.”

Danny pauses. “They’re both my friends, but I never really understood Jackson and Lydia’s dynamic. She’s changed since Jackson moved away.”

“Some people bring out the best in each other,” Stiles says. “And some don’t. I’ve decided that I want to surround myself with the people who bring out the best in me.”

Danny glances at him. “I’m sure Moira has something to do with that.”

“Your mom and grandma, too,” Stiles admits. “The thing is—“ He stops, uncertain if he should say what’s going through his head.

“Go ahead,” Danny says.

“When you have people who say you’re worth having around, it’s easier to believe that,” Stiles says. He pets Batman’s ears.

“Yeah, I get that,” Danny replies. “I always had that with Tutu. My parents, too, but they were busier with work.”

Stiles thinks it’s probably similar to what Moira is to him. “Yeah. It helped when Moira showed up.”

“Lydia wants to join the coven,” Danny comments.

Stiles laughs. “I got that. I’m not opposed.” He pauses. “Are you dating anyone right now?”

“A senior from Devenford, although it’s not serious,” Danny admits after a moment. “I was actually tempted to graduate from high school early, but with Tutu here, I think I’m going to stick around.”

Stiles feels an immediate sense of relief at that. He likes Danny a lot, and he’s come to depend on the coven. Danny’s presence balances the energy. “First choice of schools?”

“Stanford or UC Berkley,” Danny admits. “You?”

“I don’t know,” Stiles admits. “A lot of it is going to depend on the scholarship and financial aid package offered. I want to stay in California, though.”

Danny smirks. “That tree baby of yours?”

“You’re free to visit the tree baby on Sunday when I go with Moira,” Stiles offers.

Danny shakes his head. “It might get attached to me, and that is definitely your thing.”

“The perils of being a spark,” Stiles jokes.

“It is a peril,” Danny says seriously. “Mom and Tutu have talked to me about it. It’s the other reason I decided to put off graduation. I know you have to consider the financial aid, but I think you should go to school with at least one of your pack members if we don’t wind up in the same place.”

Moira has been dropping hints about that for the last couple of months, ever since Stiles’ PSAT scores came in. He did well, so he thinks he’ll probably get some scholarship offers, but he has no idea what that’s going to look like.

“Yeah,” Stiles says after a moment. “Moira has indicated as much. I don’t know what the other pack members will do, but I also know that I can’t allow my choices to revolve around theirs, not entirely.”

“Smart,” Danny replies. “Just keep it in mind.”

His dad waves to Stiles. “You ready to go, kiddo? I told Derek that we’d be there around one.”

“Good talk, Danny,” Stiles says.

“It’s always interesting, Stiles,” Danny replies.

Stiles tosses his paper plate in the trash and deposits his silverware in the sink. They end up meeting Derek at the house, and Derek drives his dad over, while Stiles follows in his Jeep, since he’ll need to leave for judo in a few hours.

Derek has apparently found the second entrance under the Beacon Hills High School sign.

“I’m sorry, but what the actual fuck was your mom thinking?” his dad asks incredulously. He and Derek each have an empty banker’s box in hand. “If they need the things in the vault, they would have either needed to break into the high school or come here.”

His dad rarely swears, but Stiles has to agree that it demands that word, because “what the actual fuck” is the mildest query he can think of.

“I swear to god, it made sense when I was fifteen,” Derek mutters, “but I am definitely right there with you now.”

“When we learn better, we do better,” Stiles says. “We learned better, so let’s do better.”

Derek glances at him and then cracks a smile. “Thanks.”

“Let’s just agree that there was a Beacon Hills before hunters and after hunters,” Stiles replies. “And we can all agree that no one is prepared for the Hunter Inquisition.”

“I hate the Hunter Inquisition,” Derek mutters as he opens the door to the vault.

“Who doesn’t?” his dad asks.

Stiles feels a chill go up his spine when his dad says that, and he tucks that away for later.

Moira told him to pay attention to his instincts, and Stiles thinks there might be something there.

God, he hopes it’s just his affinity for the rune stones and not a burgeoning precognitive ability.

Once they enter the vault, Stiles quickly moves past his initial “why the hell is this” to “what are we going to do with all of this.”

He starts looking around figuring out what they need to get out immediately—provided that Derek agrees, of course.

“So, I have some opinions, but I am willing to take direction instead,” Stiles says.

Derek glances at him, and then he says, “You know what? I trust your instincts. I can’t say I’ll agree, but I’m willing to listen.”

“Valuable, easily portable items first, and I don’t mean bearer bonds,” Stiles says. “I mean valuable to you.”

“Yeah, I’m good with that,” Derek agrees.

His dad is surveying the contents with his hands on his hips. “I’m still stuck on how your mom was going to retrieve something from the vault if she needed it immediately.”

“This isn’t really a place you store things you know you’re going to need,” Derek replies. “It’s more of a ‘break glass in case of fire’ thing.”

“Hence the illegal bearer bonds,” Noah says.

Derek nods. “I guess.” He starts to look around. “I think the documents should come first. I’d like to know if there are going to other big surprises.”

“Records would be good,” Stiles agrees. “And they’re portable.”

There are folders full of documents, and there’s a filing cabinet that appears to be filled with old school ledgers. Stiles opens his laptop and pulls up the spreadsheet he created as Derek hands him one of them.

Stiles flips open the cover and quickly begins to skim the contents. “This looks like a list of properties.”

“We should bring it along,” Derek replies. “I’ll take it to our financial advisor, and we can compare records.”

Stiles sets that to the side, and they move on to the next one. There are family trees, indicating that there are multiple Hale branches spread out over the country.

“Did you know about the other Hales?” Stiles asks.

Derek shrugs. “I knew they existed, but I’ve never met any of them, and I have no idea if they’d even be open to it.”

“You’d think they’d want to band together,” Stiles mutters, but he’s decided not to be surprised by anything at this point, even if it makes absolutely no goddam sense.

Derek shrugs. “I think they mostly did things the way we’ve always done them, and then Laura just ran. We never really thought about why we were doing things a certain way.”

“We have time to think about it now,” Noah says firmly. “And we will.”

Stiles has noticed that his dad tries not to criticize Derek’s mom too much, and he understands why. Stiles probably wouldn’t accept any criticism of his mom either, and there’s no sense in putting Derek on the defensive.

“I think this might be a hunter family tree,” Derek says as he opens the next ledger. “It’s on the Argents.”

“Well, that might be helpful,” his dad says. “It might help us figure out who’s in charge now. I don’t think it’s Chris Argent or Allison for that matter.”

Derek flips a page. “This one is on the Calaveras family. It’s probably wildly out of date, though.”

“It gives us a place to start,” his dad replies. “If you agree, I think we should contract with Alana, pay her to do deep dives on the hunter families that we find records for here. I can’t devote station resources to it, but the pack can pay for the research, and Alana is great at what she does.”

Derek immediately nods. “Yeah, that sounds good. I have the money, and we need that intelligence. If not right now, then certainly for the future.”

“Sometimes, the cheapest thing to do is buy it,” Noah replies.

Derek frowns thoughtfully. “I’ve been meaning to check in with my financial advisor again anyway. I’ll do that this week, and contact Alana for assistance.”

“Good,” his dad says.

Stiles works on the spreadsheet, cataloguing the ledgers in one tab. It helps that he finds a number in each one inside the front cover, so he can put that and a general description of the contents in the spreadsheet.

When it’s time for him to leave for judo, Stiles hands his laptop over to his dad, and he makes his way out of the vault to his Jeep.

Stiles has a foreboding feeling, but he knows they’re doing everything they can to protect themselves and others. That’s the best they can do.

~~~~~

Going through the ledgers sparks interest, but then Derek starts to run across items that bring back memories. There’s a box with jewelry that Derek remembers his grandmother wearing, along with a watch that had belonged to his grandfather. There’s a wooden chest with a full set of china and silver. He’s not sure he remembers it ever being used, but someone had thought it precious enough to save.

Noah comes across a pair of handguns with mother-of-pearl handles. Derek has no idea why there would be guns here, but it’s possible that someone in his family had used a hunter’s weapons for protection, or maybe they’d been taken from a hunter.

Then Derek stumbles across another folder, and when he opens it, he sees a report from a different private investigator. This one is addressed to his uncle, and as Derek flips through the pages, he realizes it’s a deep background search on Alan Deaton.

“What did you find?” Noah asks at the sound Derek makes.

“A report on Deaton from a PI,” Derek replies. “It looks like my uncle had his suspicions, too.”

Noah grimaces. “Hopefully, we won’t run into him again, but I suggest handing that over to Alana, too. It’s not like we got a lot of resolution to that situation.”

So far, Derek has a pile of things to take with them—the ledgers, the jewelry, the report on Deaton, other documents, with plans to slowly empty it. He has an itch between his shoulder blades, and he’s moving on instinct.

Derek has no intention of getting rid of anything, at least right now, but there are things here that hold very little sentimental value, and he’s comfortable leaving them behind. The ledgers and the report on Deaton are priceless sources of information, though, and Derek wants to keep the jewelry close.

Noah is going through the last of the ledgers, flipping through the pages, and he says, “I think we hit pay dirt. This looks like a lot of information on the Nemeton and the ley lines, which will make Stiles happy.”

Derek nods, glancing around him. “I have everything that I want to take with us today. I don’t want to leave the information here, or the jewelry. Everything else, we can come back for later.”

Noah nods. “Fair enough.”

Everything that Derek wants to take fits in the empty boxes they brought, and they carry them out to the Camaro.

When they get back to the house, they sit down in the living room, beginning to look into the ledgers more in depth. Derek is halfway through the book addressing his own family tree when Stiles gets back from judo.

He lets Batman off his leash and takes his vest off. “You’re off duty, buddy,” Stiles says, scratching behind Batman’s ears. “What were we thinking of for dinner?”

Noah grimaces. “To be honest, kiddo, we got distracted.”

Stiles pulls out his phone to look at the pack calendar and any messages. “Erica said that she’s having dinner at her parents’ house tonight with Malia and Cora. They’re having a spa night, and boys aren’t invited.”

Derek frowns. “Is it just me, or are Erica’s parents showing more interest?”

“I think they’re probably relieved to have a normal kid who wants to do normal things,” Stiles comments. “And they’re willing to indulge her for that reason.”

Derek can hear what Stiles isn’t saying, which is that Erica is manipulating her parents so she can do exactly what she wants. Derek can’t say he blames her, since it makes things easier for the pack.

“What about the boys?” Noah asks. He’s been reading through the report on Deaton, and Derek wonders what about it is bothering him.

“Scott’s doing laundry for his mom, and Isaac and Boyd said they’re doing the same,” Stiles says. “So, I guess it’s just us tonight.”

Noah smiles. “Well, I can’t say I mind that. What do you say to Lu’s?”

“Fried chicken?” Stiles asks with a grin. “Yeah, that sounds great. I can go pick it up. I’ll get enough for leftovers.”

“Thanks, kiddo,” Noah replies. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Stiles says happily.

Noah shakes his head as Stiles thunders up the stairs, Batman at his heels, playing rather than working.

“What’s wrong?” Derek asks.

Noah sighs. “I haven’t made enough time for him recently.”

“You’ve been keeping us safe,” Derek counters. “We all understand that. There are going to be times when you’re busier at the station, and other times when you can be with the pack.”

Noah smiles, the expression a bit sad. “Maybe I’ve just been reminded recently how short the time is for Stiles to still be living at home.”

Stiles and most of the other pack members are halfway through their junior year, so Derek understands. The next year and a half are going to speed right by, if the recent past is any indication.

“Stiles still has the tree baby to look after,” Derek points out. “And in his own way, Stiles is just as territorial as a werewolf. I don’t think he’ll go far or stay away long.”

“Thanks, Derek,” Noah replies.

Derek thinks that having the station pack is good for Noah, to keep him balanced and on track after Stiles and the younger pack members leave. Stiles will return, and he thinks the girls will stick close, too. Boyd will come back eventually, and Isaac is unlikely to leave at all. The jury is still out on Scott, but he seems far more settled recently.

“Do you think Deaton is going to be a problem?” Derek asks as Noah flips another page.

Noah just shakes his head. “From what Moira’s said, I doubt it.”

Derek stares at the ledger that he’s holding. “I think the hunters are more likely to be an issue.”

Noah nods. “I don’t think trouble will come from Chris or Allison, but if Gerard and Kate are any indication, that family tree is rotten to the core.”

“When is Allison due to be sentenced?” Derek asks.

“Next month, just after Christmas,” Noah replies. “I haven’t said anything to Stiles yet.”

“What are you expecting?”

Noah shakes his head. “Probably probation, community service, certainly no jail time. I warned Stiles at the outset that she’d get a sweetheart deal.”

Derek can find it in himself to dredge up some small bit of compassion for her. “I think we can blame her parents for letting Kate hang around her in the first place. They knew what she was and didn’t have a problem with it.”

“I agree,” Noah replies. “I think her dad tried to shelter her from the supernatural when he should have educated her. That lack of knowledge left her vulnerable to Kate’s manipulation.”

Derek isn’t sure he cares about Allison, but if he takes a step back, mentally, and puts himself in her shoes, he can dredge up some sympathy.

“How’s therapy going?” Noah asks. “And you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

Derek takes a deep breath. He’s still seeing Jack every other week, mostly via telehealth, although he has gone in person twice. Therapy has mostly meant recontextualizing things from his childhood, his relationship with Paige, and what Kate had done.

For whatever reason, Derek doesn’t have a lot of strong feelings about Jennifer Blake. She’d used him, but nothing bad had happened to the pack, and she’s dead. She’s been punished.

That puts a period on the whole episode, as far as Derek is concerned.

“It’s good,” Derek finally says. “I’ve been talking about my parents a lot recently. After what we found in the vault, that will probably continue.”

“I don’t think poorly of them,” Noah is quick to assure him. “Your parents, I mean.”

Derek shakes his head. “I know. That’s what I’ve been working on with Jack, you know? I’m working on understanding that my parents may have made mistakes with the best possible intentions, but those mistakes still have consequences.”

“Every parent makes mistakes,” Noah admits. “We just have to hope that our kids can live with them, and that they forgive us.”

Derek smiles. “I do, and I figure it just gives Jack more material to work with.”

Noah actually laughs at that. “Well, hopefully, I won’t add to that, but I’m sure I probably will.”

Derek hesitates, but there’s an air of wistfulness to Noah’s voice that tells him he needs to respond. “Jack also says that it’s all about the balance between bad and good. I already know the good you’ve done far outweighs the bad. The entire pack would say the same.”

Noah’s expression lightens. “Thank you for saying that, son. I’ll be right back.”

Derek stares at the ledger in front of him. As near as he can tell, it had last been updated about a year before the fire, so some of the information is still going to be good. The thing is, though, Derek has his pack, and he has his Alpha. Other Hale branches might look down on his choice to allow Noah to kill Peter to take the alpha spark. Cora certainly hadn’t understood at first.

He closes the ledger, and decides that he’ll leave that decision for the future. He needs to talk to Cora and Malia anyway, and see what they want to do. It’s their family as much as it is his,

Derek picks up the folder with the report on Deaton, which Peter had apparently commissioned. He remembers the notes his uncle had left on his laptop, about teaching Derek a lesson, and about Deaton.

Derek finds the engagement letter that Peter had sent to the PI firm. One sentence sticks out:

I’m concerned, because I believe he’s given my sister bad advice. He recommended a course of action that he promised would improve our circumstances, but it seems to have made the situation worse. I’m not sure he is who he says he is.

Derek can feel his eyebrows go up. He wonders if the course of action was cutting down the Nemeton.

“Anything interesting?” Noah asks as he rejoins Derek at the table.

Derek hands over the letter his uncle had written.

Noah reads it, and he has a similarly incredulous expression on his face. “Okay. This has to refer to cutting down the Nemeton.”

“That would be my guess, but I don’t know anything for sure,” Derek replies.

“What’s the report say?” Noah asks.

“I haven’t gotten that far,” Derek admits.

Noah shrugs. “Well, we have some time to get through it all.”

Stiles reappears, and Noah digs out his wallet, handing Stiles a couple of twenties.

“I’ll be back,” Stiles promises.

Derek looks at everything they have piled on the table, and he says, “We definitely need to hire Alana. There’s a lot of information here, and the only way we might get through it would be to make it a full time job.”

“Plus, Alana has some specialized computer skills that neither of us have,” Noah points out.

Derek nods. “I’ll set up a meeting with her early next week. I need to talk to Cora and Malia about our family tree. I’m not inclined to contact the other Hale branches at this point, but they might feel differently.”

“Don’t worry too much about it,” Noah says. “I’ll support you whatever you decide to do, but we’re in the same boat when it comes to extended family.”

“I know,” Derek says. “Thanks for going with me today.”

“Of course,” Noah replies. “You know I’ll do whatever I can to support you.”

Derek smiles. “I do know that.”

He has his work cut out for him, but at least he has a place to start.

~~~~~

Saturday night is one spent quietly at home, but Sunday morning, most of the kids gather at Noah’s house for donuts and homework. It’s become something of a tradition, just as Stiles always has a magic lesson Sunday afternoon.

Noah has every intention of tagging along to the Preserve today, wanting to see the new Nemeton’s growth for himself.

Another tradition that has formed is taking a run with whoever decides to go. Today, it’s just him, Stiles, and Derek, although Tara meets them outside the bakery.

“And what are you doing here, Deputy Graeme?” Noah asks her.

“Tradition, sir,” she replies cheerfully. “Sunday morning donuts are a thing, right after the Sunday morning run.”

Noah laughs. “And you’re in it for the donuts?”

“Cliches become cliche for a reason,” Tara replies. “Besides, I’m actually doing you a solid today.”

“And what’s that?” Noah asks.

“I have a cousin who teaches math at Devenford, and does private tutoring on the side,” Tara replies. “Moira somehow knew that, so I’m meeting her at your house.”

Noah blinks. “How the hell did Moira move so quickly?”

“I would assume magic,” Tara jokes.

Noah wouldn’t put it past her.

They collect the donuts, and Tara gives Noah a ride back to the house so he can get cleaned up and ready for the day, although Stiles and Derek opt to finish the run.

“Still working on my endurance,” Stiles says cheerfully. “Just save the butterscotch Long John for me.”

Noah shakes his head. “I don’t think anyone would dare touch it, son. No one likes those as much as you do.”

“Then mine is safe,” he replies.

“Derek?” Noah prompts.

Derek shrugs. “I’m not picky, but I do like a cruller.”

“Done,” Noah replies.

“Did anything major happen yesterday?” Noah asks as Tara drives them to his house.

Tara shakes her head. “Sorry, but no, we’re not talking about work. I’m not on duty, and neither are you. You said you needed a weekend with the kids, and I’m here as your right hand, not your deputy.”

Noah had asked for his people to cover things this weekend, and to only call him for emergencies. Since he hadn’t received a call, clearly there hadn’t been an emergency. “You’re right. Thanks for keeping me honest.”

“We both know there are going to be times when we’re working around the clock, but you have to take a breather when you can,” Tara replies. “Trust that someone would have called if there was something you needed to know.”

“I do trust you,” Noah admits. “I trust everyone at the station, and I appreciate the fact that I can.”

Tara comes into the house when they arrive, and she asks, “Do you have coffee?”

“Not yet, but give me a few, and I can make some,” Noah offers.

“No need,” Tara replies. “I’ve been here enough that I know where everything is. I’ll get a pot started while you get cleaned up.”

He takes a quick shower and pulls on clothes suitable for chores around the house and a hike through the Preserve later. Tara really does know his house well, because she has a pot of coffee going, and has pulled out the fruit salad that always seems to be ready for Sunday mornings.

Again, Noah thinks it’s probably magic, but there seems to be a lot of that going around.

When the doorbell rings, he goes to answer it, and finds a young woman with light brown skin and striking green eyes. “Sheriff? I’m Asha Graeme.”

“Tara’s cousin,” Noah says. “Come in. She ambushed me on my donut run, so she’s here. I think Moira should be here shortly.”

Asha’s dimples flash. “Ms. Keynes explained the situation to me. She said Malia is currently in your care?”

“Malia is staying with me, yes,” Noah confirms. “It was a matter of necessity, and after what happened at Eichen House, I didn’t think another institutional setting was appropriate. I’m not sure what her needs are for her other classes, but math has been particularly frustrating.”

Asha sighs. “Yes, well, Beacon Hills is a good school, but Malia’s needs would be challenging to meet even in a highly specialized setting. Gaps in knowledge require time and patience, and often one-on-one attention. If I think she might also have a learning disability, I’ll let you know. I’m not qualified to make a diagnosis, but I can provide some recommendations.”

“I appreciate that,” Noah replies.

Asha smiles as she sees Tara when they enter the kitchen. “Long time no see, cuz.”

“Work, you know,” Tara replies. “I appreciate you doing this. Malia is a good kid who got dealt a bad hand.”

Asha smiles. “You know how I feel about a hard luck case.”

Tara wraps an arm around her shoulders for a hug. “About like I do.”

“We might need a private space to work, Sheriff,” Asha says.

“Call me Noah,” he invites. “And you’re more than welcome to use my office, or one of the bedrooms. I’ll let Stiles know, and if he needs to pick up a few things, I’m sure he can.”

“Thank you,” Asha replies.

The front door opens, and Noah hears Erica call out, “Hello!”

“We’re back in the kitchen,” Noah replies. He turns to Asha. “Do you want a cup of coffee? I can’t guarantee its quality since Tara made it.”

Tara rolls her eyes. “I see a little bit of time off has gone straight to your head.”

“Maybe,” Noah jokes.

Asha says, “I’d love a cup if it’s no trouble.”

“No trouble at all,” Noah assures her.

Erica, Cora, and Malia enter the kitchen, and they quickly zero in on the box of donuts. “What’s off limits?” Erica asks, going straight to the chase.

“Stiles called the butterscotch, and Derek called a cruller,” Noah replies. “No one else has staked a claim.”

“Jelly for me!” Erica calls out. “Scott always calls dibs on the jelly.”

“We could get another jelly donut,” Noah points out.

Erica grins at him. “It’s more fun this way.” She zeroes in on Asha once she has her chosen doughnut in hand. “Hi. I’m Erica Reyes.”

“Asha Graeme,” the young woman says, not evidencing any surprise.

Cora then says, “I’m Cora Hale, and this is Malia Tate. You must be the tutor.”

Noah turns to her. “How did you know that?”

Cora shrugs. “Moira said she’d get a tutor. A tutor shows up. Moira is like Mary Poppins that way.”

Asha laughs. “And does anyone else need help?”

Cora thinks about it for a moment. “Could some of us use a bit of help? Sure, but we can probably figure it out on our own. Malia needs help.”

Malia doesn’t even try to deny it. “I need a lot of help, but Stiles helped me understand why there are letters in algebra. I can at least follow along now, even if I don’t get everything.”

“All right, then shall we get started, and see if we’ll work well together?” Asha asks.

Malia shrugs. “Sure, I guess. Fair warning, I kind of suck.”

“You don’t suck,” Asha says firmly. “You just haven’t been taught. The good news is we can fix that, and that’s what I’m here for.”

“Grab a donut,” Noah says. “There are enough.”

Asha grabs a napkin from the stack on the counter, and a chocolate glazed. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

Malia takes a deep breath. “Yeah, okay.”

They head to the dining room, and Noah says, “I like her.”

“When Moira asked me if I thought Asha would be a good fit, I knew she would be,” Tara admits. “She’s been volunteering as a tutor since she was in junior high, and she put herself through college getting athletes eligible to play.”

“That’s quite the resume,” Noah admits. “But I shouldn’t be surprised. Cora isn’t wrong about the Mary Poppins thing.”

Tara laughs. “From what I’ve seen, that’s the truth. Anyway, I need to get going. I mostly just wanted to steal a donut and get Asha settled.”

“I appreciate it,” Noah replies. “And for you covering for me this weekend.”

“We’re practicing for when you take a vacation,” Tara teases. “I’ve heard that Moira has designs on Hawaii.”

“So I’ve heard,” Noah admits.

“Enjoy the rest of your weekend, sir,” Tara says. “Good luck. Glad it’s you and not me.”

Noah laughs at that.

Derek and Stiles turn up at that point, and the other kids start filtering in. Shortly after noon, Moira turns up with a couple of bags full of food. “All right, kids, we’re trying something new today!”

“On the never-ending quest to expand our pallets?” Stiles asks.

“That’s the idea,” Moira replies. “I made muffulettas, but I also brought the basics for sandwiches if you decide it’s not for you.”

Noah had taken Claudia to New Orleans once, not long before Stiles was conceived. He remembers stumbling into a deli after a night spent carousing and making love, ordering a sandwich, and feeling as though biting into it had been a revelation.

He wouldn’t put it past Moira to know that somehow.

Moira’s muffulettas are on a round seeded loaf, piled high with cured meats, cheese, and an olive spread. One bite sends Noah back two decades, sitting at a small, wrought iron table in the French Quarter, across from his wife he adored.

Noah closes his eyes and breathes in, the sharp smell of the vinaigrette in his nose.

“Are you okay?” Stiles asks.

“The last time I had one of these was with your mom,” Noah replies. “And it tastes almost exactly the same as the one and only muffuletta I had when we were in New Orleans.”

Isaac says, “I didn’t think I’d like it, but I do. I like the spread.”

Boyd just nods, his mouth full, as do the rest of the kids around the table. Asha has her portion, since she had still been working with Malia when Moira arrived, and was invited to stay.

“My grandma was from New Orleans,” she says. “She’d make these for us every so often, and this one is just as good.”

Moira beams. “Oh, good. I’ve been to New Orleans a number of times, and I’ve been working on perfecting the recipe.”

Noah finishes his portion and can’t help but lick his fingers clean of the olive oil. “I’d like to go with you and Stiles today.”

Moira nods. “I thought you might. I think you should see it.”

After they finish lunch, there are only crumbs and a few seeds left. Asha says, “I feel as though we’ve made good progress this morning, so if you’re up for it, we can continue.”

Malia nods. “It’s starting to make sense, so yeah, I’m up for it.”

They leave the rest of the kids at the house and head to the Preserve. On Sundays, Stiles always has his magic lessons there, spending time communing with the growing replacement to the Nemeton.

Noah follows Moira and Stiles as they hike in, Moira quizzing Stiles on—he’s not sure, but it sounds like auras. He didn’t think that was a thing.

“But I don’t really have that ability,” Stiles objects.

Moira nods. “But the earth will still tell you things. If you can get them onto something other than concrete or pavement, it will tell you more.”

“What if I can’t?” Stiles asks.

Moira shrugs. “Then you’ll have to rely on your instincts, young spark, which are quite good. But I do think we need to work on that, especially if we’re to be introduced to Satomi’s pack. Have you ever been able to get a reading on me?”

Stiles shakes his head. “No, not at all.”

“Then we’ll work on that first,” Moira replies. “It won’t mean anything if you try to get a read on your dad, not with the bond, but if you can read me, you can probably read anyone.”

Stiles nods. “Got it. Did you know about the muffulettas?”

Moira glances over her shoulder at Noah. “No, I had no idea that your father thought of them so fondly. I had a client meeting recently with someone from New Orleans, and he mentioned them. I got a hankering.”

“It wasn’t an unwelcome memory, Moira,” Noah says. “Claudia loved exploring, and you’ve helped the whole pack do that through food.”

Moira smiles. “We’re going to find a way to help them all explore the world to their hearts’ content.”

They emerge into the clearing, and what Stiles calls the tree baby is now several feet tall.

“Go,” Moira says. “Be careful to act within the limits we discussed.”

Stiles nods. “Promise.”

Noah sits on the ground, watching his son. “How much is he giving it?”

“Just enough to grow and not exhaust himself,” Moira replies, sitting next to him. She’s wearing red jeans today, a white and red flowered blouse, and a black pea coat and black Chucks. “I’m sorry for any distress I might have caused you.”

“They were good memories,” Noah insists. “I took Claudia to New Orleans for a long weekend. We drank too much and slept too little. We had muffulettas for lunch one day, and they were perfect. I was remembering that moment.”

“You still love her,” Moira comments.

Noah looks at his kid, who isn’t paying any attention to them. “I probably would have laid down on her grave and died if not for Stiles.”

“I’m sorry,” Moira says gently.

“She was the heart of me, but at least I still had Stiles,” Noah replies. “And I know you never met her, but he’s the spitting image of Claudia.”

“And his heart?” Moira asks.

“Some combination of the two of us,” Noah admits. “And some of it is unique to Stiles.”

As Noah watches, Stiles keeps his fingers sunk into the ground at the base of the small tree, and the leaves tremble gently. He thinks he can almost see it growing. “What will that do for us?”

Moira hums under her breath. “The Nemeton sits on a node where several ley lines intersect. It’s a place of great power. Deaton may have thought that the nogitsune inside the Nemeton was corruption within the tree itself, and that’s why he recommended cutting it down.”

“Because it would serve as a beacon for the supernatural,” Noah says flatly.

Moira nods. “The fact that there is a beacon isn’t the problem, really. You’ll have relatively benign supernatural creatures be drawn in, like banshees, or were-coyotes, for example. But if it’s corrupted and attracts an unusual number of feral omegas or other dangerous elements, it could certainly present a problem.”

Noah looks at the young tree. “It doesn’t feel like this one is going to be a problem.”

“No, it’s new and pure, and Stiles’ magic is also pure,” Moira agrees. “By the time he leaves for college, it will be strong enough not to need weekly reinforcement.”

Noah sighs. He appreciates Stiles’ ambition, and he knows his son needs to stretch his wings, but he isn’t looking forward to the empty nest.

“I wouldn’t worry about it, too much,” Moira says, patting his knee. “When that day comes, you’ll still have the pack, and things have a way of working themselves out.”

Stiles moves away from the young tree at that point, and Noah thinks it’s probably grown about four inches.

“How are you feeling?” Moira asks as Stiles joins them on the ground, Batman lying next to him.

The dog doesn’t appear fazed by anything supernatural, and Stiles pets his ears. “Good. I stayed inside the limits, so I’m just a little tired.”

“Are you ready for a lesson?” Moira asks. “I know it’s a bit cold, but I think you might benefit from some time outdoors.”

Stiles grins. “The sun is out, and I used that charm you taught me, so I’m not feeling it.”

“Do you mind, Noah?” Moira asks.

Noah tips his head back to look at the bare branches above him, only a few desiccated leaves hanging on, and the clear blue sky above that. There’s something about this cleaning that’s inviting him to stay. “Not at all.”

He enjoys his time spent outside, and then his afternoon puttering around the house while the kids do homework, and later settle in to play video games. He even goes to bed that night at a relatively early hour.

All that means Noah feels fairly refreshed for a change when he walks into the station on Monday morning. His life and his pack are in order, and since he hasn’t received a call from his deputies, he’s hoping to find that in order, too.

Tara greets him with a cheerful wave. “You’re looking well rested, sir.”

“It was a nice weekend,” Noah admits. “Anything big happen?”

Tara shakes her head. “Some property crime, a few drug busts, a couple of parties with underage drinking—nothing out of the ordinary, really. Which is pretty out of the ordinary for Beacon Hills.”

Noah chuckles. “In the last few years, yes, but before Peter Hale started his rampage, we would have a few weekends like that every year.”

Tara laughs. “You have a point. Anyway, the weekend reports are on your desk, and I finished the requisition forms for your signature. Mark finalized the schedule, too.”

Noah knows better than to say anything about it being an easy day, since that would be sure to invite trouble. “All right, I’ll take a look at all that. Appreciate the help this weekend.”

Tara gives him a look. “You should have more weekends like that one.”

“Maybe if things stay settled,” Noah allows. “I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

Noah sits down behind his desk and looks at the neat stack of reports and requisition forms. When he checks his email, he sees a message from Mark with the schedule for the next month.

He leans back in his chair and thinks, Clearly, I need to take more time off in the future.

Not only has his station been in good hands, but Noah had been able to spend time with his pack. He knows he needs to take advantage of that while he can.

Because Tara is right—quiet weekends are all too rare in Beacon Hills.

~~~~~

Derek had been asked to work a night shift to fill in for a deputy who came down with the stomach flu. He doesn’t mind working overnight, and as a werewolf, Derek’s never needed as much sleep as the average person. Besides, that gives him Monday free to contact Alana and explain what he needs her to do.

He gets her number from Stiles Monday morning before he leaves for school, and Derek gives her a call mid-morning, once he judges it to be late enough.

“Alana Mahealani,” she says.

Derek doesn’t know any of the coven members well, other than Moira, but he’s had a few conversations with her. “This is Derek Hale. Stiles gave me your number.”

“What can I do for you, Derek?” Alana asks warmly.

Derek takes a deep breath. “I recently found a vault that my family used to store important documents and other artifacts, and there are ledgers. From what I can tell, it’s information on other branches of the Hale family, and on some of the hunter families. I think we might need as much information as we can get.”

“And Noah can’t use department resources,” Alana supplies.

Derek snorts. “We also don’t have the bandwidth. Maybe if we could show they were a clear and present threat, but we already have two big investigations going on.”

Alana hums thoughtfully. “I can offer you the friends and family discount.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Derek assures her. “I’m willing to pay whatever the going rate is. I just think if we wait, when we do need the information, we won’t have the time.”

“I think you’re right,” Alana says. “And I’d like to keep Beacon Hills safe for my family and everyone else. Do you have time now?”

Derek heaves a sigh of relief, grateful that she’s taking everything he’s saying seriously. “Yeah, my shift doesn’t start until later this evening.”

“Bring over whatever you want me to analyze,” Alana replies. “I’ll make coffee.”

Derek quickly goes through the ledgers, making sure that he has all those he wants Alana to look at. He puts them in a box and drives over to the Mahealanis’ house.

He parks on the street outside their home, and hauls the box to the front door, which swings open as he approaches. Alana offers a warm smile. “Come on in, Derek. How are you?”

“I’m doing well,” Derek replies. “Just getting settled in before I start my last module at Sonoma.”

“I’m sure you’re excited to start the next chapter of your life,” Alana comments.

Derek nods. “That’s it exactly.”

“Let’s start in the kitchen, and we’ll talk about what I can offer and my rates,” Alana says, leading him back to the kitchen. “Do you want any coffee?”

Derek accepts to be polite. He doesn’t love coffee, and doesn’t drink it often, but it smells really good. “Thank you, that sounds good.”

Alana pulls out two bright blue mugs and fills them, and they sit down at the kitchen island as Derek pulls out the ledgers. “This is the one with the information on the other branches of the Hale family,” Derek says. “I’d like to know more, but I don’t need a lot of details. I haven’t had the chance to talk to my sister yet, so I’m not sure if she’s going to want to contact them or not.”

“Got it,” Alana says. “Basic background and perhaps their whereabouts, but no deep dive yet.”

Derek nods, pleased that she understands, and doesn’t ask why he wouldn’t want to contact them. “Perfect. These ledgers are the ones that contains the information on the hunter families. I view this as the most pressing part of the project.”

Alana starts flipping through, skimming the information. “Whoever put this together was quite thorough.”

“I’m sure some of the information is out of date,” Derek says. “It looks like the last time it was updated was before the fire.”

Alana shakes her head. “That doesn’t really matter. It’s a place to start. Bring those ledgers and follow me, and I’ll show you what I’ve already found—and that I did for free, so don’t worry.”

Derek collects his things and follows her down the stairs to a well-appointed room in the basement, which is clearly a client-facing space. “This is nice.”

“Thank you,” Alana replies, turning on one of the large monitors. “I thought it best to get more information on the Argents after we formed our coven, especially since my mom decided to stay here.”

“Do you think the coven could be a target?” Derek asks.

“I have no idea,” Alana admits. “But I’m not willing to take any chances. Lydia is Danny’s friend, and she could be a target. We know that Stiles would certainly be a target, if only because of who his father is, but also because of his magic. The hunters have also shown that they don’t care about collateral damage.”

“Fair,” Derek agrees.

Alana is typing on a keyboard, and Derek sees a number of pictures populate the screen. He recognizes all of them, since they’re all members of the Argent family or one of their known associates.

Gerard’s picture has a red X over it, which Derek appreciates. Kate’s image is listed as being in prison, and Chris and Allison Argent are apparently in Santa Rosa. Victoria Argent, however, is listed as living in San Francisco.

“Victoria and Chris are separated?” Derek asks.

“That’s what it looks like, but they haven’t filed any official paperwork,” Alana says. “I did make some inquiries at the jail where Kate was held, and from what I’ve been able to find out, the only Argent who visited her after her escape was Victoria.”

Derek nods. “That makes sense, given what Stiles told me. It sounds like Victoria was the one trying to force Allison to change her story.”

Alana taps the ledger with the information on hunters in it. “It might be that there is someone else pulling the strings, too, but this will help me suss it out. I’ll make it my priority.”

Derek smiles. “I appreciate it.”

“Well, you’re going to be paying me, but I’m glad to have the excuse to really get into it,” Alana admits. “I agree with you that this is important.” She stands. “Speaking of, let me get you a copy of my fee agreement.”

He already knows how good she is, based on her research into the members of the alpha pack, so he’s willing to pay almost anything. Her rates are hourly, and seem reasonable, and the fee agreement promises itemized statements.

Derek doesn’t hesitate to sign.

“No questions?” Alana asks.

“I’d be willing to pay a small fortune for this information,” Derek admits. “Your rates seem quite reasonable.”

Alana nods. “That’s because they are. I do appreciate the business.”

“I appreciate paying competent people for their work,” Derek counters. “And Noah said you did a great job researching the alpha pack and Jennifer Blake.”

Alana laughs. “Well, that one I did for free, but that’s because she was a darach, and it’s the business of magical folks to stop them when one of ours goes rogue. Anything else?”

Derek hesitates, then passes her the file that holds both Malia’s information and the report on Deaton. “Malia Tate is the biological daughter of my uncle, Peter Hale. I’m not sure if there’s anything out there about her mom, but knowing what happened, if there’s anything to know, might help. And we should probably know where Deaton is at all times.”

Alana smirks. “Moira put Deaton on our coven’s watch-list, so I can tell you that he’s currently in Chicago. I can also tell you that his credit score is in the tank, and he’s been placed on the no-fly list.”

Derek barks a laugh. “You don’t play around.”

“We’d have preferred more drastic measures, but karma is a bitch, so we settled for punishments that would make it very difficult for him to return to Beacon Hills,” Alana replies. “If we thought we could get away with it, I’m pretty sure the vote would have been to remove his magic entirely.”

Derek shakes his head. “As long as he doesn’t come back here, I don’t care, to be honest. He’s never going to see the judgement he deserves, not really.”

“Ah, Derek, magic judges sins of omission just as much as sins of commission,” Alana replies. “And magic judges us all, whether here or in the next life.”

Derek has never been religious, so he’s not entirely sure what to do with that statement. “I don’t know if I believe in an afterlife.”

“I didn’t say it would happen in the afterlife,” Alana counters. “Someone who has betrayed magic will suffer the effects.”

Derek frowns. “Moira said she thought he’d chosen the wrong rune, and that’s why what he tried to do eroded the pack bond.”

“And we’ll never know whether that’s because he’s completely incompetent, or because his magic is getting worse,” Alana replies.

Derek sighs. “Okay. Is there anything else you need, other than a check for your retainer?”

“That will get it done, and if I need anything else, I’ll let you know,” Alana promises. “I’ll get started on this right away.”

“Much appreciated,” Derek replies.

Alana smiles. “That’s the beautiful part of having an expansive pack or coven. You can bring all your skills in-house.”

Derek can’t take the skills of his financial advisor inside the pack, although Sam knows that he’s working with werewolves.

Speaking of— “I really appreciate it, Alana. I have to get to another meeting.”

“Go,” she says. “I’ll be in touch next week with what I’ve found so far.”

Derek heads out, and hits a drive through on his way to Sam’s office, since he’s a little hungry.

Sam greets him as he enters, saying, “I have to admit that dealing with you has been something of an adventure, Derek.”

“I hope it hasn’t been bad,” Derek says.

“For what it’s worth, I’ve known about the bearer bonds for years, and I advised your mom to cash them in and put the money in a more secure location, or at least put it somewhere it could earn more,” Sam replies. “When you didn’t say anything about them, I assumed you agreed with her position.”

Derek can feel his jaw firm up. “If there’s anything else you know of that you disagreed with my mom about, I’d like to hear it. I had no idea the bearer bonds were in the vault until we stumbled upon them.”

Sam blinks. “You’ve been doing really well, Derek, but I have no idea what your mom didn’t tell you.”

“Assume she told me nothing,” Derek says flatly. “Because she apparently hid a daughter from my uncle as well.”

He provides Sam copies of the paperwork, and Sam tsks. “Talia didn’t say anything about this?”

“No,” Derek replies. “Nothing. She’s a were-coyote, and Mom left her with a mundane family. There was fallout.”

Sam curses under his breath. “Okay. I’m sorry, I should have said something, but Laura always insisted she had things under control, and you never said that you didn’t.”

“I think we both know what happens when we assume,” Derek replies wryly.

“I assume that you want to add Malia to the family trust,” Sam says.

Derek nods. “I do. Her adoptive father has disappeared, and even if we found him, I wouldn’t leave her in his care.”

“Legally, based on what I know, you don’t have any rights to her, since Peter’s parental rights were terminated upon the adoption,” Sam says. “Although I’m not a lawyer, and I would suggest that you consult one if it becomes an issue.”

Derek thinks about it for a moment. “I don’t think it’s going to be an issue. She’s officially in Sheriff Stilinski’s protective custody.”

Sam nods. “Good. How long is that going to last?”

“I’m pretty sure Noah can make it last for as long as the investigation into Eichen House lasts, which could be years,” Derek replies. “Or at least until she turns eighteen.”

“That would be ideal,” Sam admits. “But I can recommend a good family lawyer if one becomes necessary. Now, let’s talk about the house, and how we’re going to deal with the bearer bonds.”

Derek hesitates, then decides to just jump right into it. “Did my mom say why she thought they’d need to leave those where they were?”

Sam grimaces. “Your uncle’s idea, from what she said. To be honest, I think he wanted to be a gangster, and the bonds fed into that mystique. No matter what I told her about the legality, or the difficulty of cashing them in, she wouldn’t listen. She just insisted that they were secure, and they were a good insurance policy.”

Derek frowns. “They’re also really easy to walk off with if someone accessed them. At least if my mom had put her money in gold, it would have been too fucking heavy for most people to move.”

Sam laughs. “You know, I said the same thing when I realized that she wasn’t going to see sense. I’m glad you do.”

“I’m probably going to make very different choices,” Derek replies. “I loved her, and she was great, but I’m coming to realize that I need to make my own decisions.”

Sam smiles approvingly. “Good. Very good. Let’s talk about the progress on the house. I got the recent update, and it looks like they’re going to be done a bit early, probably the third week of January.”

Derek is pleasantly surprised by that. “Wow. Okay, that’s sooner than I thought.”

“Bonuses are motivating,” Sam replies, “and you offered them a handsome one. So, talk to the sheriff about when he wants to move. I’ve set up a meeting next week for discussing final details with the contractor. If you can’t attend, you can send someone else or I can report the information back to you.”

Derek nods. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

“You’re the head of the family now, Derek,” Sam reminds him. “And you’re taking care of them.”

Derek probably needs to hear that from multiple sources. “Thanks.”

They move through the rest of the business at a fast clip, which Derek is glad of, because he has a date with Parrish.

There’s a firing range outside Beacon Hills’ city limits, and that’s where they meet. They’re about even on range scores, but the competition keeps them sharp.

“How are things?” Parrish asks once they’ve repaired to the diner for burgers and fries.

“Well, it turns out that Malia is our cousin, and my mom hid her from Peter,” Derek says bluntly, because he knows Parrish can handle the information, and he’ll probably hear about it soon enough.

Parrish blinks. “No offense, Derek, but your family dynamics make me happy to be an orphan.”

Derek isn’t even offended. “Yeah, well, it’s a whole thing apparently.”

“Are there any other family secrets?” Parrish asks.

Derek shrugs. “If there are, I’ll probably find out the same time everyone else does. I just don’t know why my mom thought she needed to hide Malia from Peter.”

“So, your uncle wasn’t always crazy?” Parrish asks around a bite of his burger.

Derek snorts. “Crazy like a fox maybe. He always knew how to get what he wanted. I don’t know if I’d go so far as to say by any means necessary, but not far from that.”

“If your mom thought Peter having a kid would be a problem for some reason, or would be a threat to the pack…” Parrish says, trailing off.

“She’d have done exactly what she did,” Derek confirms. “But why she thought that, I don’t know.”

“Maybe she left a note somewhere in there,” Parrish suggests. “Given everything else you found in the vault, it’s at least a possibility.”

Derek has to concede that’s true. “Anything new with you?” he asks in a bid to change the subject.

Parrish shrugs. “I’ve been working ahead as much as I can with the reading material. I know we can’t really work overtime, but I don’t want classes interfering with work.”

“Same,” Derek admits. “What do you make of the case with Brunski?”

“I think he got a position as head orderly specifically so he could abuse and kill people, and that he enjoyed it,” Parrish says bluntly. “If we find out that he tortured animals, set fires, or wet the bed, I’m not going to be surprised at all.”

Derek finishes the last of his fries and sits back in his seat. “Do you think he was working alone?”

Parrish shrugs. “Don’t most serial killers? I think he was working inside a system that enabled him, though.”

“Who cares about a bunch of crazy people?” Derek mutters, because he knows that’s part of why Brunski had been able to get away with so much for so long. It’s also why they’re investigating Eichen House so thoroughly.

“Pretty much,” Parrish agrees. “I saw it in the foster care system, too. There were a lot of people who viewed us as a burden on society.”

Derek doesn’t say anything redundant, like how much bullshit that is.

“When are you on the schedule next?” Derek asks.

“Tomorrow early,” Parrish replies. “You?”

“I took Cindy’s shift tonight,” Derek replies. “Since she has the stomach flu.”

Parrish nods. “I’m glad she asked you first. I’d have done it, but I’m still picking up hours at the bar, and I would have needed to find coverage there.”

“Still?” Derek asks.

Parrish grins. “The tips are good. What can I say? They love my pretty face.”

Derek shakes his head. “You sure about that? Maybe they’re paying to shut you up.”

“You shut up,” Parrish returns, and Derek just laughs.

~~~~~

Stiles is proud of Derek for contracting with Alana to do the information gathering. The pack doesn’t have the time, and the more information they have on the hunters, the better, as far as Stiles is concerned.

Besides, Stiles always does better with more information.

Lydia joins him at his locker as Stiles grabs his books for home room. “I have a proposition for you.”

Stiles glances over at her. “And what would that be?”

She’s looking good today, in a short plaid skirt and sweater, her hair up in a ponytail. “The Winter Formal is coming up.”

“It is, indeed,” Stiles says with a wince.

“I know you may have complicated feelings about the dance,” Lydia continues.

“And about all high school events in general,” Stiles inserts, thinking about Heather’s party that got interrupted by the darach.

“So, maybe you should rewrite those memories,” Lydia suggests. “We can go together.”

Stiles frowns. “Like a date?”

“How about we start as friends and see how that goes?” Lydia suggests.

He’s still not quite sure that he’s hearing her correctly. “I’ll need to have Batman there.”

Lydia shrugs. “So? I invited you, and I assume that involves your service dog. To do otherwise would be like asking someone who uses a wheelchair to leave that at home.”

It’s an apt analogy and one that Stiles appreciates. “Okay, but why me?”

“Because you actually helped me when I thought I was going crazy,” Lydia replies pertly. “I enjoyed meeting your special study group. Your friends are cool, and I’m sorry for the role I played in everything.”

Stiles shrugs off the apology. “Allison used you. I get that. It’s not your fault, and I don’t hold you responsible.”

“Okay, so, go to the Winter Formal with me,” Lydia says. “If we have fun, we’ll take it from there.”

Stiles doesn’t want to say yes. He’s liked Lydia for a long time, and now that she’s actually being nice to him and his friends, it’s a little more than that. But he also remembers what happened to Heather, and he doesn’t really want to lose someone close to him.

If he lets Lydia get too close, he’s going to get his heart broken, and he knows that, which is why he’s been so tentative about moving forward.

Moira has told him not to close himself off, though, not to let the opportunities to have relationships now pass him by for fear or concern of the future. Jack has said something similar. Maybe this is the first step in doing that, and he only has a year and a half of high school left.

“All right,” Stiles says with a deep breath. “The Winter Formal is a go.”

“Great!” Lydia says brightly. “I’ll let you know the color of my dress once I find it.”

Stiles shuts his locker and starts down the hall towards home room, Lydia falling into step next to him. “Cora also mentioned that Malia was struggling. Does she need a tutor?”

“Are you offering?” Stiles asks, a little surprised. He doesn’t think she would have the patience for tutoring.

Lydia shakes her head. “Oh, god, no. I have no patience. I was just curious.”

Stiles laughs. “Moira found someone. Asha came over on Sunday, and she’s great.”

“Good,” Lydia replies. “Malia deserves to get the help she needs.”

Stiles doesn’t think she’s only talking about Malia when she says that. “She will. We’ll make sure of it.”

“You’ve become really interesting, Stiles,” Lydia comments as they reach Stiles’ home room. “I’ll see you later.”

Stiles slides into his seat next to Scott, and Scott leans over. “Did Lydia talk to you?”

“Why do you ask?” Stiles pulls out his textbook as Batman gets settled under the desk.

“Because she stopped me on my way inside the building to ask if you had a date to the Winter Formal yet,” Scott replies. “And I told her that you didn’t, so I’m assuming she wanted to ask you.”

“She did,” Stiles admits. “I said yes, but as friends for right now. What about you? Weren’t you going to ask Kira?”

Scott flushes. “We kind of talked about it. I was planning on formally asking after school today. I don’t have a shift, so we were going to study together. I know you’ve got krav maga.”

Stiles appreciates that Scott remembered his schedule. “I do. Good luck, buddy, not that I think you’ll need it.”

Scott’s grin is just a bit goofy. “Thanks, Stiles.”

“All right, class, eyes up front, please,” Mr. Davies says.

Stiles is pleased that the only exciting thing that happens is Lydia asking him to the Winter Formal. He plans on doing exactly as his dad suggested and taking things slowly.

They still have gym at the end of the day, which Stiles prefers, because he can go from class to the dojo. He finds Moira waiting for him after krav maga.

“I thought Mondays were your usual days for client consultations,” Stiles says.

Moira smiles. “They are, as a matter of fact. It’s an old client, one I trust. If you’re interested, you can come along and meet her.”

Stiles grins. “I’m going to need to get cleaned up.”

“We’ll stop by your house first,” Moira replies. “And stop for food along the way. I already talked to your dad about it, and let him know that we might be home late.”

“Where are we going?” Stiles asks.

“My client lives in Petaluma,” Moira replies. “They’ve asked for some advice, and I agreed to do a true seeing.”

“Is that something you do for clients often?” Stiles asks.

“Only with those I know won’t misuse the information,” Moira replies. “So, no, not often at all.”

She waits until Stiles has showered and changed, and they’re on the road with Batman in the back seat, to ask, “Did anything happen at school today?”

Stiles takes a deep breath. “Lydia asked me to go to the Winter Formal with her.”

“You’ll need something a little fancier, young spark,” Moira says as though she isn’t surprised at all. “I’m sure Lydia will tell you her preferred colors, although my advice would be to go for the classic black, and match her dress with your pocket square.”

“You don’t sound surprised,” Stiles says.

Moira snorts. “I’d have to be blind or an idiot to be surprised, mo chroi, and I’m neither.”

“Yeah, but I don’t understand why I’m suddenly so interesting,” Stiles objects. “I’m still me.”

“You’re also somewhat unavailable now,” Moira points out. “You have a broad friend group, you’re involved in different activities, you have magic, and you’ve started to fill out. Also, power calls to certain people.”

Stiles can’t help but scoff at that. “I’m not powerful.”

“Your magic is,” Moira points out.

Stiles shakes his head, glancing out of the window at the passing scenery. “But most people don’t know I have magic, and we’re keeping it that way.”

“What did you think when you met me for the first time?” Moira asks.

Stiles shifts. “Honestly, I was just really hoping that you’d like me.”

“And after that?” Moira presses.

Stiles thinks back and tries to remember. “I don’t know. I felt drawn to you, I guess. Like, if you hadn’t been there to be my teacher, I would have wanted to spend time with you anyway.”

“What about Noelani?” Moira prompts.

“After I got done being surprised by your relationship?” Stiles asks, teasing a bit.

“After that,” Moira confirms with a wink.

“I guess I felt the same about her, and Alana, to a lesser extent,” Stiles admits. “Just drawn to them.”

Moira nods firmly. “Whether you knew it or not, that’s part of having power. People will be drawn to you, sometimes without even knowing why.”

“So, Lydia is attracted to me because of my magic?” Stiles asks, feeling oddly disappointed by that.

Moira laughs. “No, that’s just what made Lydia start looking in your direction, and wanting to know more. She’s interested in you, though, and everything you bring to the table.”

“I really like her,” Stiles admits in a rush. “And I’m afraid she’s going to break my heart.”

“The people we love always break our hearts, Stiles, at least a little bit,” Moira says. “Tell me that Scott hasn’t broken yours.”

Stiles takes a sharp breath. He hadn’t really thought about it like that, but he can’t deny the truth of it. “I can’t.”

“Do you regret your friendship with him?” Moira asks.

Stiles immediately shakes his head. “Not at all. I mean, we’ve had our moments, but Scott’s my brother.”

“And if he hadn’t pulled his head out of his ass?” Moira asks.

Stiles pauses and really thinks about the question. “I still wouldn’t have regretted it.”

“Then just make sure you don’t do anything that you’ll regret,” Moira advises. “Treat her with respect and honesty, and then you’ll have a clean conscience.”

Stiles nods. “Good advice.”

“’tis better to have loved and lost,” Moira says. “And Lydia won’t be the last person to love you.”

Stiles sighs. “Yeah, I know. It’s just that part of my crush on Lydia was because she was unattainable, you know?”

“And now that she’s within reach?” Moira asks.

Stiles nods. “I’m just worried.”

“Take things slowly,” Moira advises. “Whatever happens, you’ll do just fine. Now, let’s discuss the magical properties of plants. I think this summer, we should start a garden, but we’ll need to start the rosemary soon.”

“Sage, too, right?” Stiles asks. “And lavender?”

“Among others,” Moira confirms. “Herbs aren’t just good for cooking. Tell me about their magical properties and uses, since you clearly did the reading.”

There are some things about magic that Stiles can’t quite wrap his head around, like being able to do things with the power of his brain alone. Then there are other things that require knowledge and experience, like the meanings of runes and plant lore.

Stiles appreciates what his magic can do, and the power living inside him—it had saved his life—but it’s the knowledge that fascinates him.

They spend the entire drive to Petaluma, just over an hour, talking about the uses of various plants in magic and healing. Stiles can feel his fingertips itching.

“Why haven’t I ever started a garden?” Stiles asks. “My affinity is for the earth.”

“Because you’ve never thought about it?” Moira suggests. “Ask Derek about setting aside some land for it at the new house. You could probably keep the pack in vegetables and herbs at least.”

She signals to take the off-ramp. “But let’s talk about this client. She knows you’re my student, but she doesn’t know how powerful you are. I told her that you had some precognitive abilities, so she might ask you to use the rune stones, but you are free to decline if you’d prefer.”

“Why would I decline?” Sitles asks.

Moira shrugs. “Sometimes you just get a feeling about someone. I’ve known her for decades, but you may not like her. If you don’t, just say that you’re not feeling it today.”

Stiles frowns. “Is she supernatural?”

Moira hesitates. “She is.”

“Are we talking about a furry situation of some kind or more of a vampire thing?” Stiles asks.

Moira sighs. “It’s more of a were-jaguar situation. She was a hunter at one point, and when she was bitten, she did not do the honorable thing and commit suicide.”

“That’s…awful,” Stiles finally says when he’s processed that for a moment. “That suicide is considered honorable, I mean.”

“It is,” Moira agrees. “And she’s come a long way, but she still has some ideas that I would call questionable.”

“Right, internalized specieism is apparently a thing,” Stiles says.

Moira nods. “Exactly.”

She pulls up in front of a small house that has to be maybe 900 square feet total.

“By the way, if we play our cards right, we’ll get some information on the hunter families, too,” Moira says.

“But no pressure,” Stiles mutters.

“Alana is looking into them, and there’s no dirt she can’t uncover,” Moira replies. “This is just a bonus opportunity.”

Stiles follows her up to the front door, and watches as she knocks softly. The door swings open, and a woman who looks to be about Moira’s age is on the other side. She has iron-gray hair pulled back in a severe braid, as well as deep lines around her eyes and mouth, but her eyes are the most startling shade of blue-green. They remind Stiles of Chris Argent, and he just…

He almost blurts a question about whether she’s an Argent, but then physically bites his tongue to prevent it.

The woman gives him a look. “You’re a sharp one, aren’t you? I figured that Moira’s student would be. To answer the question you worked very hard not to ask, I was an Argent, but was from what’s considered a cadet branch. Come in.”

She walks away from the door, leaving it open and trusting them to follow. Moira nudges him, and Stiles walks inside. He’s pretty sure that his dad has no idea he’s meeting a were-jaguar who used to be a hunter. Stiles isn’t going to be the one to tell him either.

There’s a tiny living room, and the woman says, “I’ll grab a couple of beers. Coke okay with you, kid?”

“Yeah, that’s fine, thanks,” Still says quickly.

Stiles isn’t sure he’s ever been this nervous with anyone except Peter. This woman—she scares him. He suddenly understands what Moira meant.

“You both smell like werewolves, but I already figured you would,” the woman says gruffly.

“You could introduce yourself, dear,” Moira says sweetly, but with a thread of steel underneath.

The woman lets out a throaty chuckle. “Come on, I wouldn’t be myself if I didn’t try to terrify the young one.”

Moira just gives her a very pointed look.

“Fine,” she says with a sigh. “You never let me have any fun. I’m Janet Argent.”

Stiles takes in a sharp breath. “How are you related to them?”

“I was Gerard’s great-niece,” Janet replies. “Our family was never as militant, but I was still expected to kill myself after I got bitten. I disappointed all of them by running away from home, and that’s when I found Moira. She helped me through my first full moon, and then kept helping me for some fucking reason.”

“I liked you,” Moira says with asperity. “For some fucking reason.”

Janet cracks a smile then. “You like me because I wouldn’t lay down and die.”

“True,” Moira agrees.

Janet takes an audible breath. “And with that said, I have to admit that I asked you here under false pretenses, Moira. I don’t need a true seeing, but the hunters are used to you coming there, and I can’t be certain they aren’t watching.”

Moira frowns at her. “Are you fucking kidding me right now, Jan?”

“I do want you to do a true seeing,” Janet replies. “Just not for me. I want you to do it for you, with me present, after I tell you what I’ve heard.”

Stiles can tell that Moira is really mad, but she blows out a breath through her nose and says, “Fine. I’m listening.”

“I’m still in touch with a cousin in the business,” Janet says. “He says there’s been a split in the main branch of the Argent family. Allison has taken charge of those who are more traditional, those who agree that they should only hunt what hunts them. Victoria has taken charge of the rest of them, and that’s a sizable majority.”

Stiles frowns. “Fuck. That doesn’t sound good.”

“It’s not,” Janet replies. “Because I can guarantee that while Chris Argent might accept having a werewolf as sheriff if he’s keeping the peace, Victoria and the rest of the family certainly won’t.”

“Do you know of any specific threats?” Moira asks.

“No, that’s why I thought it might be a good idea for you to do your magic thing,” Janet replies. “And I didn’t want to risk calling attention to myself. Chris isn’t the only one with money and resources.”

Moira shakes her head. “I’m still pissed at you.”

“Yeah, I know, but if you get the necessary intel, maybe you’ll forgive me,” Janet replies with little inflection in her voice.

“We’ll start with the rune stones,” Moira announces. “Stiles, you’re up.”

Stiles sits on the floor, and Batman leans against him. Stiles knows that Batman is sensing his tension, because maybe Janet isn’t the threat, but her bringing them here like this feels like one.

Moira produces the silk cloth from her tote, then the leather bag. She meets Stiles’ eyes and gives him a firm nod, and Stiles returns it.

She sets out the cloth, and Stiles tosses the bag in his hand a couple of times, feeling the weight, trying to get himself in the right headspace for this.

Batman leans against him a little harder, and Stiles takes a long, deep breath.

Stiles pours the stones out into his left hand, transfers them to his right, and then asks, “Are the Argents a threat?”

The configuration doesn’t leave any doubt about that. “Indubitably,” Stiles mutters

“I already told you that,” Janet says querulously.

Stiles shoots her a dirty look. “I’m working up to it. I have a method.”

“He has a knack for this sort of thing,” Moira says mildly. “Hush.”

Stiles scoops up the stones, and asks another question. “Will they come after us personally?”

This configuration is less clear, with hagalaz, algiz, eihwaz, and nauthiz. “I don’t know,” Stiles mutters. “But I think this points to a feminine point of origin, but a group effort.”

“What is your gut telling you?” Moira says. “Remember, the rune stones will guide you, if you put it together with your knowledge of the events and the players involved.”

“Victoria Argent is sneaky,” Stiles replies. “She tried to get Allison to change her story. She likes to manipulate. But she also watched my dad hold Kate Argent legally accountable. She wouldn’t come at us directly, but she’d have no problem paying someone else to do it for her, especially if she could find a way to hide her tracks.” Stiles pauses. “And bonus points if she discredited my dad along the way.”

He picks up the rune stones again, then asks, “How do we counter her?”

Othala, thurisaz, and uruz turn up. “I think ancestry is going to be very important, but I don’t know if it’s mine, someone else’s, or someone we don’t know yet.”

“That gives us enough to start,” Moira says. “Put the stones away, and I’ll bring out the bowl.”

“Do you need water?” Janet asks.

Moira shakes her head, accepting the leather bag from Stiles and then handing him the silver bowl. “Stiles can fill it up from the sink. I prefer not to allow anyone but myself and my student to touch my instruments.”

The house is small, and Stiles can see the kitchen through a doorway on the other side of the living room. He starts to fill up the bowl from the tap, and he notices that Batman has stationed himself between Stiles and the living room, facing Moira and Janet, rather than looking at Stiles. Batman’s hackles are slightly raised, and Stiles is pretty sure that it’s not because Janet is a were-jaguar.

He carries the bowl back to the living room and sets it down in the center of the cloth, sitting down across from Moira. Once again, Batman presses up against Stiles.

“Deep breath, mo chroi,” Moira murmurs. “I’m going to need your head clear for this.”

Stiles pushes aside the feeling of imminent dread. He’s fairly confident that he could take Janet out the same way he had Jennifer Blake.

He’s just not sure whether what he’s feeling has to do with knowing that the hunters are definitely targeting them, or if there’s a clear and present threat here.

Stiles nods when he’s ready, and Moira puts her hands on either side of the bowl, and at her nod, Stiles places his hands over hers.

“I’m going to attempt to see the instrumentality of the threat,” Moira says.

Stiles focuses on the bowl, and on being able to see what Moira sees. They’ve done this a few times now, and so Stiles is practiced at the technique.

The water ripples, even without any circulating air, and Moira clicks her tongue. “It looks like a computer, but what’s on the screen is gibberish.”

“They’d probably encrypt it,” Stiles points out. “Or keep it on the dark web?”

Moira nods. “Most likely, yes.” She waves her hand over the bowl, dispelling the vision. “Now, let’s see if we can visualize the first victim.”

They take their positions again, and a face swims into view. Stiles doesn’t recognize him, nor does he recognize the mouthful of teeth or the milk-white eyes.

Stiles keeps his mouth shut with some difficulty, not wanting to reveal that he can see what Moira is looking at. “Wendigo,” Moira says. “That makes sense.”

She dispels the vision again, and tells Stiles, “Go dump the water out, please, Stiles.”

Stiles carries the bowl into the kitchen, and he hears Moira say, “I think you were right to avoid notice. I’m still not particularly happy with you, but I understand why you felt the subterfuge was necessary.”

“Thank you,” Janet replies. “I hope we can remain friends.”

“I wouldn’t throw away two decades of friendship over this, but I reserve the right to be salty over it for a bit,” Moira says as Stiles comes back into the room. “Especially since I brought my student along.”

“He’s strong,” Janet says, looking at Stiles with her disconcerting eyes. “He’d have made an excellent hunter.”

“Who says I’m not a hunter?” Stiles asks, hearing the challenge in his own voice. “I just hunt something other than what the Argents do.”

Janet smiles. “I suspect that they won’t know quite what to do with you, Stiles. It was truly a pleasure to meet you.”

“Wish I could say the same,” Stiles replies.

That just makes Janet laugh.

“Let’s go, Stiles,” Moira says, her expression amused. “Janet, I suggest you keep your head down lest Victoria decide to cleanse the family tree.”

Stiles doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s reminded of everything he knows about jaguars, and he knows they’re scary-smart and incredibly deadly.

“I have a feeling she wanted to eat me alive,” Stiles comments once they’re in the car and driving away, and he’s certain that she won’t hear him.

Moira sighs. “There’s a certain amount of truth to the adage: once a hunter, always a hunter.”

“She’s closer to the Victoria Argent school of thought, isn’t she?” Stiles asks.

Moira is quiet for a long moment. “She was bitten against her will when hunting a were-jaguar who was killing people. When she refused to commit suicide, she was shot with a wolfsbane bullet by her brother, and she only survived because I happened on the scene.”

“So, very complicated feelings,” Stiles sums up.

“Very complicated feelings,” Moira confirms. “I’m sorry, Stiles. I’ve known her for a long time, and I really thought she could be trusted.”

Stiles takes a mental step back and really thinks about the encounter. “I mean, I think she can be. She wouldn’t have had to tell you anything at all, but she did, and she went to great lengths to make sure it looked like business as usual.”

Moira grimaces. “You felt under threat.”

“I feel under threat any time the hunters are so much as mentioned,” Stiles counters. “And the subterfuge didn’t exactly make me comfy, but I also think she was sizing me up, and I think she really is your friend.”

“She’s a prickly bitch, but I like her anyway,” Moira mutters.

Stiles frowns. “Wait a minute. Does that—did you have a relationship with her?”

Moira gives him a look. “A lady never kisses and tells.”

“So, yes,” Stiles sums up.

“Not everyone finds their one true love, Stiles,” Moira replies. “Some of us are a bit more like honeybees.”

“Flitting from flower to flower?” Stiles asks, cracking himself up, because that could definitely be dirty.

Moira rolls her eyes. “Yes, Stiles, that exactly.”

“What are we going to tell my dad?” Stiles asks after a moment.

“Exactly what we found out tonight,” Moira replies. “But I don’t think there’s anything we can do at the moment. Even if I tried to find the wendigo in Beacon Hills, I doubt I’d be successful.”

“Why?” Stiles asks. “I don’t know anything about wendigos.”

“They’re cannibals, feeding on human flesh,” Moira replies. “And by that I mean it’s not a preference. They need to eat human flesh, and that sort of thing is very difficult to hide. If they’ve managed to fly under the radar in Beacon Hills, in your dad’s town?”

“They’re not killing in Beacon Hills,” Stiles says. “If they’re killing at all, and not sourcing it from cadavers or other dead bodies somehow. How much human flesh does a wendigo need?”

“Now, that is a really good question,” Moira replies. “I’m afraid we don’t know much about wendigos other than the basics. They’re cannibals, so they get hunted just by definition.”

“So, they might need a minimal amount of human flesh, which could be ethically sourced, but no one has ever stopped to find out,” Stiles says.

Moira draws in a deep breath. “You know what? You’re right. We should know more about them, and we don’t because we’ve never been curious enough to ask those questions.”

“I just think we should never stop asking questions,” Stiles says slowly. “But, obviously, if someone is gnawing on someone’s liver, shoot them. It’s just there might be options between those two ends of the continuum.”

“Stay curious, Stiles,” Moira says. “You’ll keep the rest of us honest.”

Stiles is deep in thought as they make the drive home, thinking about Janet. He doesn’t think he liked her all that much, but he can find it in himself to have compassion.

“What the fuck kind of assholes would want someone to kill themselves just because they’re a were?” Stiles finally bursts out. “There’s still a life after being bitten!”

Moira chuckles sadly. “There are, sadly, many people in this world who won’t accept differences. Not every hunter, but I would venture to guess that was part of Chris Argent’s hesitation.”

Stiles frowns. “He’d ask his own daughter to kill herself?”

“Well, I can’t speak to how reasonable Chris Argent would be,” Moira begins. “But he might.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Stiles mutters.

“Your mouth, mo chroi,” Moira chides. “I love you, but your father is going to blame me.”

“You don’t have a potty mouth,” Stiles says. “He definitely knows it’s all me.”

Moira gives him a wry look. “Maybe at least pretend to curb it until you’re eighteen. On that day, I promise to teach you to curse creatively in as many languages as I know.”

“How many languages do you know?” It’s a good bargain, so Stiles is going to take it, but now he’s curious.

Moira laughs. “Oh, at least four, and one that almost no one speaks anymore, so you can swear without anyone knowing.”

“Perfect,” Stiles declares. “It’s a deal.”

When they enter the house, there’s a light on in the kitchen, and his dad is standing at the counter devouring a sandwich. “Hey, kiddo. Did you have a good time?”

“We have a bead on our next problem,” Moira says. “The client that I met with tonight was a member of a cadet branch of the Argents two decades ago, and she wanted to warn me.”

His dad shoves the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth, and when he finishes chewing and swallowing, he says, “God fucking dammit, I knew they’d be a fucking problem.”

Which is how Stiles knows that his dad is just done with the hunters’ bullshit.

“Tell us how you really feel, Noah,” Moira says with good humor.

His dad goes to the freezer and pulls out the ice cream they have stashed. “Tell me everything, leave no detail out, and we’re going to make a plan.”

Stiles just really loves his dad so fucking much.

 

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