Reading Time: 101 Minutes

Title: A Tempered Strength
Series: What We Gain
Series Order: 2
Author: enigmaticblue
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Genre: Action Adventure, Drama, Family
Relationship(s): Gen
Content Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None apply to this fic
Word Count: 55,000
Summary: As the newly minted Alpha, Noah knows that he has a responsibility to his pack, and to his territory. He just wishes he didn’t have to deal with the Argents.
Artist: Ringspell

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“A human life gains lustre and strength only when it is polished and tempered.” ~Mas Oyama

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Chapter 1

Noah feels the red rage boil up, and he swallows it down. He understands why he can run free, not on his first full moon, not when they don’t know how much control he’ll have.

But, oh, he wants to be out in the Preserve, howling at the moon. He wants to run.

Derek and Scott are watching him warily. Neither had been willing to chain him up, so the agreement had been struck that they would stay in Derek’s efficiency apartment that he uses only for show, and they would control him if necessary.

So far, it hadn’t been necessary.

“You’re doing really well,” Derek comments, when Noah manages to fight off the desire to go out through the closed window for the fifth time that night.

“It doesn’t feel like I am,” Noah admits, taking a deep breath through his nose and letting it out again.

Scott is watching anxiously, eyes golden and with a mouthful of fangs. “No, you are. I about killed Stiles more than once when he was trying to help me.”

Noah growls. “Now is not the time for that conversation, Scott.”

Scott ducks his head, angling his head to expose his throat in a gesture that’s probably instinctual but that does a lot to calm the spike of anger Noah feels.

Derek takes that in and makes the same gesture, and something inside Noah’s chest settles. This is my pack, he thinks, and although the words are foreign, the emotions aren’t. It’s not unlike when he’d been a squad leader in the Army and he’d thought, These are my men.

He no longer feels as though he’s on the edge of losing control, and he feels his face shift.

The tension in the room ratchets down about ten notches, and Scott’s face changes back. “How are you so good at this?”

“I swear, there are born wolves in his history,” Derek mutters. “But also, life experience and not being a teenage idiot probably helps.”

Noah really knows next to nothing about his extended family, so Derek’s theory isn’t beyond the realm of possibility. He’s just glad that he’s in the know, and that he can protect his son and his town.

“Let’s just be glad that I seem to be handling it better than most,” Noah replies. “I got away with it this full moon, but I can’t take time off every month, and I need to maintain control in the field.”

“You will,” Derek says quietly. “I’m not lying. You have the control of a born wolf half your age, which means you probably won’t feel more than a little antsy when the next full moon rolls around.”

Noah is thirsty, so he grabs three bottles of water out of the fridge and hands them around. “How are you doing, Scott?”

“It’s easier,” Scott admits after a moment. “Having you as the Alpha helps. It’s—it’s a little weird.”

“I’ll take weird,” Noah replies. “Is your mom expecting you back home tonight?”

Scott shakes his head. “No, but I wouldn’t mind sleeping in my own bed.”

“You good?” Noah asks, knowing that his tone of voice is a warning against any lies.

Scott smiles. “Yes, sir. I’m solid.”

“All right, get out of here,” Noah orders. “Be careful.” Things have calmed down enough that Noah is comfortable letting Scott go home on foot; Derek’s apartment isn’t far from the McCall house anyway.

But there’s something about this full moon that doesn’t sit right with him, and as he drinks his water, he mulls it over. Finally, he realizes what isn’t sitting well.

While the pack feels they’re pretty solid, he also knows that they’re small, and there are outside forces at play. Noah has no idea how large a pack needs to be, but the Hale pack hadn’t been big enough to withstand Kate Argent, and the size they are now is making him uncomfortable. Stiles would say that his Spidey sense is tingling.

He knows that the five P’s apply: prior planning prevents piss-poor performance. Stiles would argue that’s six P’s, but a hyphenated word is one word to Noah.

So, after Scott leaves, he asks Derek point blank, “How big does the pack need to be?”

Noah isn’t interested in biting anyone who isn’t willing, and he isn’t sure how to go about choosing potential pack members. What he wants is safety. He wants to know how he can go about providing it.

He’d feel that way even if he weren’t the Alpha, but because he is, it’s a pressing drive, and it can’t be put off.

Derek grimaces, taking a pull from his bottle of water. “That’s hard to say. We’re a very small pack. I’d say enough that people can go out in groups of two or three, at least, but that’s made more difficult by the fact that Melissa works at the hospital, and Stiles is a high school student. I point that out mostly because if the hunters really want to exploit us, they’ll go after the human members of the pack.”

“Well, that would be stupid,” Noah says bluntly. “It would be difficult to prove a crime against a werewolf, unless they were killed. A crime against a human would be far easier to prove in a court of law, and the hunters are human.”

Derek blinks. “Huh. I never thought of it that way. I thought—well, most human members of a pack would hesitate to contact law enforcement, because it would be hard to explain.”

“Hunters are human, and the news is full of people who take part in weird paramilitary groups,” Noah says easily. “And who believes in werewolves?”

Derek laughs. “If I’d known—I wish I’d known there were people in law enforcement like you. Maybe if you’d been sheriff when the fire happened…” He trails off. “But all that to say, I don’t know. More members than what we have now, but my family was strong and had been in the area for generations. Our numbers didn’t protect us.”

Noah nods. “A determined serial killer is just going to look at the numbers as a challenge, most likely.”

Derek rubs his eyes. “Yeah. I guess she was that, wasn’t she?”

“She was,” Noah says. “So, advice?”

Derek stares at him. “Why are you asking me?”

“Because, in spite of your own misgivings, you have a good head on your shoulders when you stop and think,” Noah says, teasing him.

It’s a mark of how much more comfortable with each other they’ve become that Derek just rolls his eyes. “You want people who will be loyal to the pack,” Derek says. “To a certain extent, people who don’t have ties outside of the pack, although that’s not strictly necessary.”

“Also, abusive,” Noah mutters. “I don’t want to feel as though I’m creating a cult.”

Derek nods. “Or, you can lay out the facts for them, and let them choose. They can still be part of the pack even if they don’t take the bite. We can treat it like dating. Even if you don’t stay together, it doesn’t mean you can’t be friends.”

Noah raises his eyebrows. “And how many exes are still friends with you?”

Derek flushes. “It’s only been the one girlfriend, and she—she died.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Derek,” Noah says gently.

“I’ll tell you more about it sometime,” Derek says awkwardly. “But, um, it was bite rejection.”

Noah nods slowly. “I see. So, there’s a chance that anyone I offer the bite to could die.”

Derek glances away. “I don’t know what the statistics are, but yes.”

“Fuck,” Noah says. “Is there anything that reduces the risk?”

“I think age?” Derek hazards. “But I don’t remember. My mom knew that Laura would be the next Alpha, so she was the one who got the training. I don’t know enough. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Noah says, keeping his voice even with some effort. “Things happen to people, and your mom should have prepared you, too.” He holds up a hand when Derek opens his mouth. “I am not blaming her. I can’t say I would have done any differently, but hindsight being 20/20, I would have really appreciated it if she’d prepared you a little more.”

Derek laughs. “I shouldn’t laugh, but I’d have paid money to see you say that to her face.”

Noah smiles. “I met your mom on a few occasions. She would have told me to mind my own business.”

“She would have, but I think she’d have respected you for saying it.” Derek shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to tell you. I feel like the pack needs to be bigger, but—“

“We have to be careful about it,” Noah agrees thoughtfully. “I’ll ask Stiles to keep his eye out, and you do the same. Meanwhile, I’ll tell Mel to keep an eye out at the hospital, and I’ll prospect at the station.”

“At the hospital and the station?” Derek asks.

“You said we should be able to go out with a group, and that means having people at our workplaces,” Noah says. “Besides, if there are other pack members at both locations, we have an in to two of the most important institutions of the town: the hospital, and law enforcement.”

Derek stares at him. “You want to—take over the hospital and law enforcement. You’re still thinking about creating a sanctuary town.”

“I want to make it safe for us,” Noah counters. “And that means both being known, and keeping it quiet, I think. Sympathetic people who know, who care, and are going to help protect us.”

Derek takes a deep breath. “You’re changing things.”

“I won’t risk my son,” Noah says flatly. “I won’t risk my family, and I won’t risk my pack. I will do everything in my power to make us safe, even if it means bucking tradition.”

Derek’s shoulders straighten, and he says, “Tell me what I can do.”

Noah smiles. “I have a couple of deputies who seem promising. You’re planning on becoming one eventually. I’m going to ask them to give you an honest assessment of the department and what you’re getting into. I want you to do the same for me.”

Derek nods slowly. “Yeah, I can do that. I’m not the friendliest person.”

“Under these circumstances, it doesn’t matter,” Noah says with some amusement. “Treat it like a job interview.”

Derek visibly hesitates. “I don’t have a lot of experience with those.”

“No time like the present,” Noah replies easily. “You can come to the station tomorrow for dinner.”

He knows that he can’t give Derek too much time to think about it, but he also wants to lay the groundwork for him. Noah already has an idea that Tara will be a good choice, but there are a couple of others who might be good options. Noah wants to get Derek’s take on them.

“Yes, sir,” Derek replies. “I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all I ask,” Noah says, and he’s very grateful for his years of managing people, both when he served in the Army, as well as sheriff. He knows the value of encouragement and positive reinforcement, just as he knows the value of a good swift kick to the ass when necessary.

Noah figures that Derek has been kicked in the ass enough by life; he doesn’t need one from Noah.

At least, not yet.

~~~~

“So?” Stiles prompts as soon as his dad arrives home the morning after the full moon. He needs to head to school in a few minutes if he doesn’t want to be late, but he’d put it off to the last minute in order to see his dad.

His dad raises his eyebrows. “Shouldn’t you be heading to school?”

Stiles makes a point of checking his phone for the time. “I have three minutes for you to tell me how everything went last night.”

“Everything went fine,” he replies, giving Stiles a quick hug. “I got the hang of it fairly quickly. I think Scott was jealous.”

“Well, you do seem to be rocking the whole werewolf thing,” Stiles admits, “and Scott still struggles.”

“Benefits of having a lot of life experience under my belt,” his dad replies. “Now, get going. You don’t want to be late.”

Stiles figures that he can get confirmation from Scott at school as to how things went.

He’s been back at school for a couple of weeks now, and most of the bruising and soreness have faded. Stiles is pretty sure he’s still the subject of wild speculation, especially since Allison hasn’t returned to school.

But Stiles hasn’t really cared what anyone thinks about him for a while now—not unless it’s Scott or his dad.

“Scott!” Stiles calls as Scott stands next to the bike rack, typing out a text on his phone. “Hey.”

Scott quickly shoves his phone in his pocket. “Hey.”

Stiles frowns, thinking that Scott is acting a little shifty, but that could just be Scott’s face. “How was it last night?”

Scott shrugs. “Easier than it ever has been.” He lowers his voice to a whisper. “Your dad is just super steady, and it made it easier for us.”

Stiles feels his shoulders slump in relief. Not that he hadn’t believed his dad, but it’s always nice to get confirmation. “That’s great.”

“Relax,” Scott says, clapping him on the shoulder. “We’re doing great!”

It’s the most cheerful Scott has been since Allison’s arrest and the ban on communication, and Stiles is grateful that Scott seems to be going back to normal.

In fact, school that day goes exceptionally well, since Harris is apparently sick and they have a substitute. Stiles hasn’t had a day that good in a while.

Derek is reading on the couch when Stiles comes home with Scott in tow, and Derek says, “Your dad wants us to meet him for dinner at the station later. He said he wants curly fries.”

“This werewolf thing has really gone to his head,” Stiles mutters. “He thinks he can have curly fries any time he wants them.”

Derek glances up with a smirk. “Technically, he can. He doesn’t have to worry about cholesterol anymore.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles mutters. “It’s going to take me a little longer to wrap my head around that. Do you know what he wants to talk about?”

“Yes.”

Stiles raises his eyebrows. “Okay? Do you want to give me a clue?”

“We’re looking to build the pack,” Derek replies.

Stiles frowns, feeling a sense of alarm. “He wants to bite more people?”

He knows that he’s being insecure right now, that the size of the pack is more about safety than anything else. But Stiles can’t help but hear “grow the pack” and think that means replacing Stiles.

Scott rests a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “Come on, Stiles. It wouldn’t even have to mean giving people the bite. It’s like my mom, right? She’s pack. This is just about having more people involved, right?”

Stiles manages to nod. “Yeah. I just—I thought we’d wait a little longer. Dad has been an alpha for a hot minute”

Derek shakes his head. “There are multiple ways to strengthen the pack. It doesn’t need to be done tomorrow, and prospecting usually takes time. But Noah made it through his first full moon and pretty much maintained control the whole time. Now is the time to start thinking about who we might invite.”

Scott says what Stiles is thinking before he can say it. “The sheriff wants our help?”

“It’s your pack, too,” Derek points out. “In fact, the argument can be made that it’s mostly Stiles’ pack, considering that he’s the one that forged the bonds the way he did.”

“I didn’t mean to!” Stiles protests, still feeling vaguely guilty, as though he’d forced something on people. There’s one word for that.

Derek frowns at him, “Stop that,” he snaps. “You strengthened something that was already there but weak. It’s to the pack’s advantage.”

Scott punches Stiles in the arm. “I told you, it’s fine. I don’t even mind being connected to Derek. It feels safe. If we always know where the other members of the pack are, we won’t have to worry about someone kidnapping us. Again.”

Stiles knows that Scott mostly means him, but that’s fair. Stiles had been kidnapped—by Scott’s girlfriend, but he’s not going to poke that sore spot. Not now that Scott seems mostly accepting of the situation, namely the no contact order.

Once it’s all said and done, Allison will probably testify against Kate in exchange for a slap on the wrist, and go back to her normal life, whatever that looks like.

Stiles feels a bit jaded at that. The hunters seem to have a long reach, and while he trusts his dad, he’s not sure he trusts everyone else involved in the process.

Stiles might have some trust issues.

“What time did he say he wanted to meet?” Stiles asks.

Derek reclines back on the couch. “He said around seven.”

“Time enough to get our homework done, huh, Scottie?” Stiles asks. He’s on a mission to help Scott get his grades up.

Scott frowns. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Gotta be done,” Stiles says. “If you want to play lacrosse, you have to improve your grades.”

Privately, Stiles thinks it’s a good thing that Scott won’t be distracted by Allison, not even having her at school. Scott had been a decent student before Allison, and assuming he can get caught up, he’ll be a decent to good student again.

They sit down at the kitchen table and start working on their homework—history reading for Scott, and math for Stiles. Stiles has an English paper to write, too, but he’ll do that after dinner. He does his best paper-writing after eating curly fries.

When Scott gets distracted, Stiles forcefully reminds him about lacrosse. “Dude, you have a lot of catching up to do.”

“I know,” Scott says mournfully. “How did I get this far behind?”

Stiles raises his eyebrows but doesn’t dignify that question with an answer. If Scott doesn’t already know, Stiles can’t help him.

Scott scowls in response. “Don’t remind me.”

“Did I say anything?” Stiles asks.

“Your face says everything,” Scott replies. “You don’t know how hard it is, Stiles.”

“No, I don’t,” Stiles says shortly, in no mood to debate who’s having the hardest time.

Scott subsides at that, and focuses on his history reading, and Stiles gets through his math problems and turns to economics.

Stiles can hear Derek moving around on occasion, but that’s become background noise. Stiles knows that Derek has started reading some of his dad’s books about constitutional law and police procedures and forensics, preparing to go to the regional police training academy that serves small departments like the Beacon Hills Sheriff.

From what Stiles knows, the modular program runs 20 hours per week, and will allow those attending to still work. Or, in Derek’s case, not spend so much time away from the pack.

“Hey,” Derek says, poking his head into the dining room. “We should leave. Do you want to ride with me?”

“Will you give me a ride home after?” Scott asks. He has definitely relaxed in Derek’s company.

Derek nods shortly. “Of course.”

They meet up at the local diner that Stiles is certain has the best curly fries in the state, if not in the country. His dad is waiting in his county vehicle when they pull up, and he immediately holds out an arm. His dad has always been a hugger, but since becoming a werewolf—and especially since Stiles was kidnapped—he’s much more tactile.

Stiles doesn’t mind, and his dad wraps his arm around Stiles’ shoulders. “Did you get your homework done?”

“I have an English paper, but that’s no problem,” Stiles says. “It’s not due until Monday.”

His dad rubs his hair. “Good. Scott?”

“Almost done,” Scott admits. “Stiles kept me on task.”

“Come on,” his dad says. “Let’s eat.”

There are cheeseburgers and curly fries all around, and Stiles orders a vanilla shake to boot. He’s not sure why, but he’s been ravenous ever since the kidnapping.

His dad clears his throat once their food has been served. “I’m not too worried about being overheard, but I’m still going to speak in code. Do you understand?”

Stiles nods eagerly. His dad is playing into every spy fantasy Stiles has ever had. His dad’s amused expression suggests he knows that.

His dad looks at Derek, who nods resolutely, and Scott, who looks a little more uncertain, but he also nods.

“Good,” his dad says. “I’ve asked Derek to scout possible friendlies at the station, and the same will be true during training. I’m asking you two to do the same at school. Do not make any promises, or tell anyone about us. This is just a scouting mission.”

Stiles nods, and he wonders at it. Earlier, when Derek had said it, Stiles had bristled. Now, when his dad lays it out, Stiles no longer feels resistance. He wonders it that has to do with the fact that it’s his Alpha asking, or if it’s because it’s his dad.

But then his dad says, “This is about making us stronger. Making us safer. I’m going to ask Mel to look for friendlies at the hospital, too. Derek is going to look for them at the sheriff’s department, as am I. Beacon Hills is going to be safe for us.”

Stiles feels that promise to his very bones. Scott’s uncertain expression firms up, his jaw tilted stubbornly, and he says, “Yes, sir.”

Derek just smiles faintly and nods.

His dad nods. “Good. Stiles, your prospective tutor will be here on Saturday. She was able to clear time in her schedule sooner than anticipated.”

The fear and trepidation are immediate. “Did she say why?”

“She just said that she had an opening in her schedule,” his dad says soothingly. “I don’t think it’s anything to worry about.”

Stiles takes a deep breath and tries to put it out of his head. He liked the FBI agents, and Marsh seemed like a decent, knowledgable person. He’s the one who gave his dad the name, and Stiles is just hoping that he can do his dad proud.

They finish up their burgers and fries, and his dad has to head back to the station. Derek drops Scott off at home, and then drives them back to the Stilinski residence.

“You staying tonight?” Stiles asks.

Derek hesitates. “Do you want me to?”

Stiles hates to admit it, but Derek had actually let him snuggle him like a pillow after he was kidnapped, so Stiles doesn’t have a lot of shame at this point. “Yes. I still—I feel safer when I’m around pack.”

“Then I’ll stay,” Derek says easily. “Because I do, too.”

Stiles feels something inside him relax. “Do you think it’s a bad sign that this person is coming sooner than expected?”

Derek visibly hesitates. “I don’t know.”

There are times when Stiles appreciates Derek’s brutal honesty. This is not one of those occasions, but he sucks it up anyway. “Right, well, good talk.”

Derek puts a hand on Stiles’ arm. “Hold up. I don’t mean that in a bad way. It’s just—the strength of the bonds you created—it’s unique, and you aren’t trained. Beacon Hills sits on a nexus of ley lines, which means there’s a lot of magical energy that could be harnessed. People who are dialed in to that magical energy might have felt it.”

Stiles thinks about the non-existent paperclip he’d used to pick his cuffs. “How rare is it to do what I did in order to escape?”

Derek shakes his head. “I don’t know, Stiles, but I think it’s pretty rare. I’m glad that the FBI agent had some names of people your dad could trust.”

“What am I looking for in a new pack member?” Stiles asks.

Derek laughs. “Well, I think you’re looking for someone you can forge a connection with. Of all of us, you’re probably uniquely cut out to make that call. Your dad might be the alpha, but you’re the one who’ll probably be forging the pack bond.”

“I didn’t even mean to do it,” Stiles protests. “I’m not sure I could do it again if I had to think about it.”

Derek nudges him. “You have a paper to write.”

Stiles nods. “Yeah, I do. Thanks for staying tonight, Derek.”

“Anything for pack,” Derek replies.

Stiles goes upstairs to his bedroom and starts writing his paper on the class differentials in The Great Gatsby. He’s supposed to be writing about the symbolism of colors, but that feels obvious, and not nearly as interesting as analyzing the ways that Jay Gatsby is making up for a poor upbringing by making himself out to be something other than what he is.

He does add a few paragraphs about how that ties into some of the symbolism in the novel, just to appease his teacher, and then he turns in.

The next day, Stiles picks Scott up from his house and drives them both to school. “I have no idea what we’re supposed to look for,” Scott frets. “I mean, why would your dad ask us to look for prospective pack members?”

“Because we’re going to have to live with them?” Stiles asks. “I mean, if we hate them, they’re probably not going to fit in with the pack, right? Can you imagine if Jackson were part of the pack?”

Scott groans. “That would be the worst.”

“So, we just keep an eye out for people who might fit in, and take it from there,” Stiles says reasonably. “Maybe figure out who would be helped by the bite.”

Scott shrugs. “Okay, I guess I’ll just keep an eye out.”

Stiles is turning the idea over in his head as the day goes on, but he’s also thinking about his prospective tutor. Stiles knows that his gift—whatever it is—could be used for good, but it could also be used for evil.

And what if Stiles does something inadvertently? What if this person tells his dad that Stiles is dangerous?

He sits with Scott at lunch, and distracts himself by watching the other students. There’s the table with the popular kids—Lydia, Jackson, and Danny, among others. Stiles dismisses them out of hand. At a table in one corner, Vernon Boyd is eating lunch alone, as usual. Stiles doesn’t know much about him; Boyd keeps to himself.

Erica Reyes is also eating by herself, although at a different table. Stiles remembers when one of the crueler students had taken a video of her having a seizure and sent it to the rest of the student body. Stiles files that away for consideration.

“What are you thinking?” Scott asks.

Stiles shrugs. “Loners. People who might be interested in having a pack, who don’t already have one, you know?”

Scott nods slowly, his eyes going to Boyd, then Erica. “Yeah, and Isaac Lahey. I think he’s friends with Matt Daehler, but he doesn’t really talk to anyone else.”

Stiles figures that one loner knows another, and that’s probably a decent place to start anyway. “We’ll keep an eye on them, I guess. At least we can tell my dad that we have some potentials.”

But he’s still a little worried about the upcoming visit, and he’s thinking bout that more than he’d like.

~~~~~

Derek walks into the station, feeling a strange sense of deja vu, but also a sense of dislocation. A lot has changed in the last few months—so much has changed. Months ago, he’d been hauled into the station in handcuffs, and now he’s thinking about putting on a uniform.

“Hey, Derek,” Tara calls. “The sheriff said he’d be right with you. He’s back there with Mr. Argent right now.”

Derek nods. “That’s okay. I don’t mind waiting.”

Tara waves him into the seat next to her desk. “The sheriff says you’re thinking about going to the academy.”

Derek nods. “Thinking about it. I need to finish my degree, but I think I can do most of that online.”

Tara gives him a sympathetic look. “Life kind of got interrupted, huh?”

Derek sighs. “Yeah, you could say that, but the sheriff has been really good to me.”

“He’s like that,” Tara says warmly. “Best boss I’ve ever had. He’s tough, but he’s fair. I think you’ll fit in here if that’s what you want.”

Derek gets the sense that Tara would make a really good wolf, and he thinks Noah might be right about bringing others on board. He has no idea how to broach the subject, though.

“I knew your sister a bit,” Tara says. “Not well. I was a few years ahead of her in school, but I did know her.”

Derek never really knows quite what to say to that, and when he doesn’t reply right away, Tara says, “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know that I knew her, and she always seemed really connected to her family.”

Derek nods slowly. “Yeah, she was.”

“You should talk to Paul, too,” Tara says. “He’s been working with the sheriff longer than me, and he’d be a good one to ask for a ride along.”

Derek raises his eyebrows. “Not you?”

“Oh, I’d already planned on dragging you on one,” Tara says. “But you’ll get a slightly different perspective if you ride along with Paul. He’s probably the best we have at sniffing out illegal drugs. The Sheriff joked once that we probably don’t need a K-9 officer with him around.”

Derek laughs at that, and Tara just shakes her head. “You should do that more often.”

“Do what?” he asks.

“Smile, sweet cheeks,” she says dryly. “Stiles did say you were pretty great once you got past the murder brows, and he wasn’t wrong.”

Derek hesitates, and then he says, “I haven’t had a lot to smile about until recently.”

She pats his hand. “The sheriff knows all about that, too. I think you’re in the right place.”

The sheriff emerges from his office with Chris Argent, a grim expression on both their faces. Argent shoots Derek a hostile look as he leaves the station, but he doesn’t say anything. Noah waves at Derek. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Derek. I’m glad you’re here, though.”

Derek wonders what the rest of the deputies think about Noah taking such an interest in him. Tara doesn’t seem to mind, and Paul and Dave both give him a nod as Derek passes their desks.

“We have a problem,” Noah says without preamble as Derek closes the door behind him. “Gerard Argent is in town, and Chris thinks there might be a feral omega.”

Derek sighs and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Fuck.”

“I asked Argent to explain it like I’m a child, so I’m pretty sure I know what that means, but I need to hear it from a werewolf’s point of view,” Noah says, perching on the edge of his desk.

Derek sits down heavily in the chair. “Wolves can become unstable if they don’t have a pack. Not all, not always, but it increases the likelihood.”

“Can they be rehabilitated?” Noah asks. “If we get to them before the hunters do?”

Derek holds out a hand and makes a so-so gesture. “Maybe. What the hunters think is too far gone is questionable, especially coming from an Argent.”

Noah stands up and reaches for his gun belt. “Then we need to find them before the Argents can. Do you think Scott would be an asset?”

Derek shakes his head. “No, I don’t. He’s still learning, and this is going to be difficult. We may have to outrun the hunters while still tracking down the omega.”

Noah nods. “That was my thinking as well. Are you up for this?”

“More than,” Derek replies, suddenly itching to help. Even if the omega is too far gone to help, they can at least give him an honorable death, rather than allowing them to be hunted for sport.

He pauses. “I don’t—this is going to sound awful.”

“Spit it out, Derek,” Noah replies.

“If the omega is too far gone to help, and the hunters find him, they’ll probably take a video of it,” Derek offers.

“Which either means we’ll have obtained a video of them killing a monster, and that won’t help us,” Noah replies. “Or it will appear that they’re killing a human. Do you have any sense what it will be?”

Derek sighs. “No, but if the omega is that far gone, probably the former.”

“As much as I’d love to scoop up a few more hunters on charges they can’t escape from, I don’t think this is the right opportunity,” Noah replies. “But I appreciate the fact that you’re thinking strategically. We’re going to need to do that going forward.”

Derek smiles at that, pleased by the praise. “Thanks.”

“There are no stupid ideas here, Derek,” Noah tells him. “Unless you’re suggesting sacrificing innocent lives, and then we’ll have a serious talk.” He pauses. “That includes self-sacrifice, by the way. I tell my deputies that while they may be asked to lay down their lives in service to their community, it’s not something I want. Do you understand?”

Derek nods. “I do.” He pauses. “Tara would make a good wolf.”

Noah snorts. “Don’t I know it. I’m hoping to find a way to break it to her gently.”

“Well, if you bring her along with you more often, she might just stumble on the truth,” Derek points out.

“Probably,” Noah agrees, “but tonight is not the night to start.”

“Something up with the Argents, sir?” Tara calls as they leave Noah’s office.

“You could say that,” Noah replies. “Nothing serious, though. Derek’s going to ride with me tonight, and I hope you’ll consider having him along some time.”

“Already told him I was dragging him along with me,” Tara says cheerfully.

“Hey, so did I!” Paul protests.

“You just want to be the sheriff’s new favorite,” Tara replies, a teasing note in her voice.

Noah frowns at them. “I don’t have favorites. Unless it’s Stiles, and he’s my favorite son.”

Derek could say that Stiles is his only son, but that would be redundant, and probably Noah’s point. But that exchange makes the station feel more like a pack house than ever.

“Where are we going?” Noah asks, climbing behind the wheel of his cruiser.

“From what my mom said in the past, probably in and around the Preserve,” Derek says.

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Noah mutters. “I don’t suppose there’s an easy way to track them down.”

Derek shakes his head. “But they aren’t usually big on personal hygiene, so we might be able to track them down by scent if we cross their trail.”

“Let’s hope for the best, then,” Noah replies.

He drives to the edge of the Preserve, near one of the trailheads, and parks there. “Let’s move around the edges for now,” Noah suggests. “If he’s come in or out, we’re more likely to catch his scent that way.”

Derek nods his agreement, and they set off, moving around the edges of the Preserve. He’s the first to catch the scent, near a cemetery at the periphery, and Derek hears the sound of heavy equipment.

Noah isn’t too far behind him, though, and his eyes glow red briefly as he takes off for the cemetery. As far as Derek can tell, Noah had been fairly fit prior to the bite, but he’s pretty sure if any of his deputies saw him running full out now they’d know something big changed.

He moves with the speed of a much younger man, and then faster, Derek on his heels, just managing to keep up. They arrive at the cemetery in time to see the omega hit the backhoe and topple it, and Derek can see the kid inside the cab.

“Get the boy, I’ll get the omega,” Noah orders.

The omega is too focused on the fresh corpse in the coffin to pay any attention to them, so Derek does as he’s been ordered. Noah tackles the omega, dragging him out of the grave and holding him face-down on the ground. Derek moves the backhoe, knowing that there’s no way to prevent the kid from seeing things they’d rather him not see.

Derek moves the machine with brute strength and helps the kid out. He’s about Stiles’ age, with curly, blond hair, blue eyes, and a bruised face. Based on the color of the bruising, the injury is at least a couple of days old.

“You okay?” Derek asks him.

The kid nods hesitantly. “Yeah.”

“Settle!” Noah snarls, his eyes flaring red. “Settle!”

Derek can see that the omega is beyond sense. The man is unwashed, his hair and beard tangled and unkempt. He’s shifted, and his eyes glow gold. He’s not even speaking intelligibly, just wordless grunts and noises that make him sound more like an animal than a human.

“We could take him somewhere, “ Derek says. “My old house, or one of the abandoned warehouses.”

Noah shakes his head. “No, we’ll need somewhere the hunters don’t know about.”

He can see the realization dawn on Noah’s face, even as it dawns on Derek: there isn’t anywhere to take the omega other than the sheriff’s house, and that would place Stiles in danger.

“Text Stiles, and tell him to go over to Scott’s tonight, at least until we can figure out another solution,” Noah orders, putting cuffs on the omega. The man must be weakened from lack of pack and lack of food, because even though he growls in protest, he can’t break them.

Derek nods. “Anything else?”

Noah sits back on his heels and focuses on the kid, his eyes narrowing. “You’re Lahey’s boy, aren’t you?”

The kid’s head bobs up and down. “Yes, sir. Isaac Lahey.”

“Are you hurt?” Noah asks, standing and dragging the omega along with him. “Other than that shiner, anyway. That has to be, what? Three days old?”

“Yes, si—“ isaac stops, chokes a little bit on the word, clearly realizing that he’s confirmed something he probably never meant to confirm. He goes silent, still as a rabbit under the gaze of a predator.

Noah just hums. “Do you have a way to get home?”

Isaac shrugs. “I’ll walk. It’s not far.”

“I don’t think that’s wise,” Noah says mildly.

Derek can see Isaac tremble. “I won’t say anything to anyone, Sheriff.”

“I’m not sure anyone would believe you if you did,” Noah says, his expression inscrutable. “But when I’m not dealing with this problem, we’re going to have a conversation about that black eye, Isaac.”

“My dad is going to kill me,” Isaac whispers, and Derek doesn’t think he’s exaggerating.

“After you finish texting Stiles, would you mind making sure the backhoe is still working, and get Isaac home?” Noah asks. “Maybe let him know about his options.”

Derek immediately knows what Noah means. “Sure, of course.”

Noah keeps hold of the omega by the back of his dirty, tattered jacket and walks him back to his vehicle, leaving Isaac to stare at Derek.

“What do you need to do tonight in order to appease your dad?” Derek asks, cutting straight to the point.

“Finish the grave,” Isaac says, his voice quiet, not quite meeting Derek’s eyes.

“I’ll help,” Derek says simply. “We’ll get done faster that way.”

Derek helps Isaac finish filling in the grave, and then makes sure the backhoe he’d been using is secure. It doesn’t seem to be damaged, and if there are more scuffs and scrapes, it had been a work-worn vehicle before, and it’s not obvious.

“What’s going to happen to him?” Isaac asks as Derek walks him to his house.

Derek doesn’t pretend not to know what Isaac is asking. “Noah will do everything he can to help, and if he can’t help, he’ll prevent him from hurting anyone else.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Isaac asks.

Derek hesitates. “You ever thought you might snap and hurt anyone and everyone in your path?”

Isaac grimaces. “Yeah.

“We may never know what caused it, but that’s what happened,” Derek replies.

They approach a house, and Isaac pauses. “I can make it from here.”

“Your dad won’t see me,” Derek says. “Do you have a phone?”

Isaac frowns, but he pulls his phone out of his pocket and hands it to Derek, and Derek swiftly programs in his number. “Call me if you decide you don’t want to be scared all the time.”

“No one can protect me,” Isaac says reproachfully.

Derek just smirks at him. “You don’t know the sheriff.”

“No, I don’t,” Isaac says flatly.

Derek takes a deep breath. “Do you want to be strong?”

“Like you?” Isaac asks. “Or like the sheriff?”

“How about both?” Derek counters.

Isaac blinks. “Yes.”

“Then text or call me,” Derek replies. “And maybe we can help.”

He walks away and his phone buzzes with a text from Stiles. at Scott’s what’s up?

Derek thinks it’s a small favor that Stiles had gone to Scott’s without an argument. We needed a place to stash a feral omega, and your dad didn’t want to put you in danger.

shiiiiiiit u guys ok?

Derek snorts. Not a scratch.

He’s surprised that Stiles doesn’t try to argue more, but then he realizes that the bonds are humming between them, and Stiles has another way of knowing that everyone is okay and safe.

look after him comes the reply.

And Derek feels the thrum of the pack bonds and smiles.

~~~~~

Noah manages to secure the omega in his basement with rope, and then steps back, hearing the growls and snarls of a werewolf that’s so far gone Noah might not have a choice on his disposition.

There’s a part of his mind that understands what’s likely to happen, what he might have to do. He can’t allow a feral omega to have the run of Beacon Hills, attacking innocents, and he can’t just transport the omega to another jurisdiction and make it their problem either.

The wolf in him knows that an omega is a danger to everyone in his territory, and too tempting a target for the hunters. If Noah takes care of the problem, an honorable hunter will have to concede that Noah is policing his territory appropriately.

“I don’t want to kill you,” Noah says conversationally. “I can give you 24 hours to get yourself together enough to be released, but that’s it.”

Slowly, every so slowly, the omega’s face shifts to a human visage. “Kill me,” he mutters hoarsely.

“I don’t want to do that,” Noah replies. “Can you tell me what happened to your pack?”

“Hunters,” the omega snarls, his eyes flashing gold.

Noah takes a deep breath, keeping his temper under tight control. “Is there anyone I can call for you? Anywhere you can go?”

The man starts sobbing brokenly. “Just kill me. Why won’t you just kill me? My pack is gone. They’re all gone.”

Noah hesitates, and then can’t resist pulling the man into a hug, even though he smells of unwashed human and wet dog. “Okay,” Noah murmurs. “Okay. I’m going to do what I can for you, but I need you to agree to stay here. My son and the rest of my pack are here, and I can’t risk you hurting them. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” the man sobs. “I won’t hurt your pack.”

Noah texts Derek, who quickly responds, On my way.

Noah looks at the man and thinks wonders if this could have been Derek. He remembers how unmoored he’d been after Claudia’s death, but at least he’d had Stiles.

Derek thunders down to the basement and stops when he sees Noah holding the man. “What happened?”

“Hunters,” Noah says grimly. “He’s agreed not to try to get free, but someone needs to stay with him.”

Derek draws in a sharp breath. “Shit. Yeah, okay.” He kneels next to them. “Hunters killed my pack, too. What’s your name?”

The man looks up through his tears. “What does it matter? I’m nothing.”

“There are other packs in the world,” Derek says gently. “And there are people who can forge those bonds. Tell us your name.”

There’s a note of pleading in Derek’s voice, and he adds, “If you die, we can follow the old rituals for you. I’m a born wolf. Let us do that for you.”

The man looks up, and Noah suddenly knows how this is going to end, and it’s not going to be pretty. He’s not even sure they can stop it, or that they have the resources to stop it.

But what Derek is offering is a kindness, and the man seems to be aware enough to know that. “My name is Joe. Joe Douglas.”

“Okay, Joe,” Derek says. “We have to let the sheriff get back to work, but I’ll sit with you. You can tell me about your pack. Someone should remember them, even if you’re not around to do so.”

Noah extricates himself and then climbs upstairs heavily, feeling the old grief well up in him again. His phone vibrates with an incoming call, and he picks up, already knowing who it’s going to be. “Hey, kiddo.”

“What happened?” Stiles demands in a hushed voice that tells Noah he’s probably trying not to let Scott or Melissa hear.

“We tracked down a feral omega tonight,” Noah admits, because honesty goes both ways, and he knows that Stiles is probably feeling his renewed grief. “Hunters got his pack.”

“Do you want me to come over?” Stiles offers. “I mean, I don’t know how I formed the pack bonds to start with, but maybe—“

“No,” Noah says definitively. “It’s very kind of you to offer, but—I think it would destabilize us, and we have other things to worry about.”

There’s a pause, and Stiles asks, “What’s going to happen to him?”

Noah lets the silence hang, and then he says, “The important thing to focus on is that he’s not in the hands of hunters, and he won’t be, whatever he decides to do.”

“Why do you feel so sad?” Stiles asks.

“Because I was remembering your mom, and I see that poor man and I think about what I might have become if I hadn’t had you,” Noah says honestly.

Stiles is quiet for a long time after that, and then he says, “I know you told me to come to Scott’s, but I think I should be there.”

“Why?” Noah asks.

“I just think I should be,” Stiles says stubbornly. “Derek should have pack with him, and you have a shift.”

A shift Noah really needs to get back to, he knows. “Bring Scott with you if Mel will allow it,” he replies. “The omega is strong, and he’s not entirely in his right mind.”

“Duh,” Stiles says, sounding more like the smart-ass teenager Noah knows him to be.

“I love you, kiddo,” Noah says.

“Love you, too, Daddio,” Stiles says, trying to sound flippant and failing miserably.

When Noah gets back to the station, Paul and Tara are still there, which means it’s been a quiet night. “Anything?” he asks.

Tara shakes her head. “No, sir. What was all that about earlier?”

Noah has been thinking about the lie he needs to tell to throw his deputies off the scent, but also to make them aware of what might be coming. “Argent’s father is in town, and I wanted to tell Derek privately. Based on the evidence we’ve gathered so far, it’s clear that Kate Argent’s father probably fed into her madness.”

“Geez,” Paul mutters. “Just when you think things couldn’t get worse.”

Noah takes a deep breath, thinking of the poor man currently tied up in his basement, and about how they’ll probably have a body to bury. If not tonight, then tomorrow.

But at least the man will receive a proper burial, rather than being used as a plaything for the hunters.

~~~~~

Thankfully, Stiles doesn’t have to worry about convincing Melissa McCall to let him and Scott go back over to his house. She’s working nights right now, so she’s not there, and it’s not uncommon for Scott to come over to Stiles’ house under those circumstances, even when they have school the next day.

Scott is quiet on the drive, at least until Stiles pulls up in the driveway. “Do you think it could have happened to me?” he asks.

Stiles takes a deep breath. “I think you have your mom and me and Dad to keep that from ever happening.”

He doesn’t mention Allison. They don’t really talk about Allison, not anymore.

“Yeah, but if something had happened to you,” Scott says slowly. “If Kate Argent had killed you, or if they’d gone after my mom and something happened to her.”

Stiles thinks of the raw grief in his dad’s voice, the sadness he still felt through the bond. “I think we all know how important pack is, Scottie.”

“What do you think is going to happen to him?” Scott asks.

Stiles shakes his head, already knowing the answer to that. “Dad will make sure he can’t hurt anybody, and that the hunters can’t get to him.”

Scott’s expression is stricken. “Do you think there’s something you could do?”

“I offered, but Dad doesn’t think it’s safe for us to add him to the pack,” Stiles admits. “But I don’t know. Maybe—maybe he’ll pull himself together?”

They troop into the house, and Derek meets them in the front room. “I don’t think you should go downstairs, Stiles,” Derek says.

“What if there’s something I could do?” Stiles whispers.

Derek shakes his head. “There isn’t. Stiles, he’s too far gone.”

Scott shakes his head stubbornly. “No, he’s alive, isn’t he? If he’s alive, there’s still hope.”

Derek looks from Scott to Stiles and back again, and then he nods shortly. “Fine. But be careful. He’s promised not to hurt the pack, but he’s not completely in control of himself.”

Scott heads downstairs, and Stiles follows on his heels, feeling vaguely guilty, like they’re going to see an animal in a zoo when it’s really a person.

The smell hits Stiles almost immediately, and if it weren’t for the glowing eyes, Stiles would have just assumed that he was looking at a homeless person. The man doesn’t seem capable of controlling the shift, though, and his eyes are golden, and his canines are longer than they ought to be when he bares his teeth.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Scott says, crouching down, using the tone of voice he uses to soothe spooked animals at the clinic. “Are you okay? Do you want something to eat or drink?”

The man lets out a howl. “Why won’t you just kill me? Let me go, let the hunters kill me.”

Scott rears back, and Stiles knows that they can’t let the neighbors hear his howling. That might just bring the hunters to their doorstep. He thinks that it would be better for everyone if the man slept—better for them and for him.

Stiles wishes the man would sleep, and he suddenly slumps over, and his breathing evens out and deepens.

“What the hell?” Scott asks. “What happened?”

“Um, I might have thought it would be better if he slept,” Stiles admits sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to actually put him to sleep, but…”

“It was a good thought,” Derek says, placing a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “He was going to draw attention if he kept howling, and it’s probably been a long time since he slept.”

Scott stands up slowly. “What’s going to happen to him?”

“Maybe sleep will help him,” Derek replies, although Stiles knows that he doesn’t actually feel much hope. “Let’s go upstairs, give him some space.”

They sprawl out in the living room, and Stiles understands the depth of his dad’s grief. There’s no way this ends well.

“Anything else happen tonight?” Stiles asks, just to make conversation. He has a feeling that the three of them will end up sleeping in the living room, needing the reassurance of the others.

Derek blows out a breath. “Chris Argent’s dad is in town.”

Stiles knows enough about the case, and his dad’s theories of the case, to know that his dad strongly suspects that Chris Argent is the best of a bad bunch. “That’s not good.”

“No, it’s not,” Derek agrees.

“Why?” Scott asks.

“Because someone probably helped Kate to become the psycho she is, and he’s our prime suspect,” Stiles replies.

Scott frowns, but he doesn’t try to argue.

“And we ran into Isaac Lahey, and he now knows about werewolves,” Derek says. “The omega tipped over the backhoe he was operating, and we didn’t have much of a choice.”

“Is that going to be a problem?” Scott asks, but he sounds hopeful.

Derek shrugs. “I don’t know. I figure we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, but Noah wanted me to talk to him, and I gave him my number.”

“Was there something else?” Stiles presses, because he can sense Derek’s disquiet.

Derek rubs his eyes. “The kid smelled like pain, and he had a black eye.”

Scott frowns. “I think it’s just him and his dad.”

That’s the thing about Beacon Hills, Stiles thinks. It’s just small enough that most everyone knows others’ business—like they know Jackson had been adopted, and that Erica has epilepsy, and that Boyd’s little sister had gone missing. The way almost everyone knows that Stiles’ mom had died young, of a mysterious illness.

“His mom died, and his older brother died while deployed,” Stiles says. “I don’t remember where.” Stiles takes a deep breath. “But Dad will get it figured out.”

If there is anyone in his life that Stiles has perfect faith in, it’s his dad.

Eventually, they all do fall asleep in the living room, only to be woken by his dad when he comes home in the early hours of the morning.

“Is everything okay?” his dad asks.

“I might have put the man to sleep,” Stiles confesses around a yawn.

His dad rubs the top of his head with a sigh. “I’m glad your prospective tutor will be here this weekend, kiddo. I’m not saying it wasn’t the right call, and he probably needed it, but your tone tells me that you didn’t mean to do it.”

“I didn’t,” Stiles admits. “I don’t know, Dad. What if they say I’m dangerous?”

“We’re all dangerous,” his dad says dryly. “I’m going to go check on our guest, okay? Stay up here.”

Stiles doesn’t love the idea, and when his dad comes back up the stairs, his expression is heavy with regret. “I think you boys should get ready for school.”

“What’s going on?” Stiles asks.

Noah shakes his head. “He’s still pretty convinced that he shouldn’t be alive. I’ll handle this.”

“You shouldn’t handle it alone,” Derek says insistently, but softly. “There’s a place in the Preserve we can go.”

“Wait,” Scott objects. “You’re just—you’re just going to let him commit suicide?”

Stiles thinks about how fast a werewolf heals from normal wounds, and he knows that suicide isn’t the likeliest option. Wounds inflicted by an alpha werewolf take longer to heal, which means that his dad is going to do it.

The other option would be a wolfsbane bullet to the head, but Stiles remembers Derek’s suffering and Peter’s—before his dad put Peter out of his misery.

“If I don’t allow it, he’s going to seek out the hunters so they can do it for him,” Noah says gently. “And if he does that, the hunters will come for us next. We can’t afford that sort of scrutiny, Scott. Do you understand?”

Scott nods unhappily. “It would put all of us in danger.”

“We have the upper hand at the moment, and we can’t afford to lose it,” Noah replies.

Scott scrubs his hands over his face. “I understand.”

Stiles knows that some part of Scott does. There’s the part of him that sees a wounded animal and wants to do everything in his power to care for it.

And there’s part of him that’s a wolf that understands nature is red in tooth and claw.

“Go get ready,” Noah says, and Stiles and Scott go upstairs to get cleaned up. Scott has brought something to change into, and a few toiletries, and Stiles decides they both deserve breakfast sandwiches, and hits a drive-through on their way to school.

“Do you think we should say anything to Isaac?” Scott asks.

Stiles thinks about that for a moment, and then shakes his head. “No. Dad probably wants to do some investigating, and it might draw attention.”

“Should we say anything to anyone?” Scott asks plaintively.

“I don’t think so,” Stiles replies with finality. He thinks it’s probably bad enough that the two of them know.

That afternoon, Stiles has gym, and they’re going up the climbing wall. He’s paired with Erica Reyes, and Stiles is outraged, but doesn’t want to say anything to Finstock. He knows what the assholes around the school say about her and her disability, and he knows the coach is oblivious. He doesn’t want to draw more attention to her, attention that would be unwelcome. Stiles also doesn’t think it’s smart to send the epileptic up the climbing wall.

Stiles can see her anxiety, and since he and Scott had already tentatively identified her as a potential pack member, he wants to be gentle. “Hey,” he says, right before Finstock blows the whistle. “Do you want me to fake a cramp and fall off the wall? Because I will if that would make you feel better.”

That actually gets a smile from her. “I’m okay.”

“Sure, but the offer stands,” Stiles says easily. “Everyone expects me to be a klutz.”

Erica shakes her head stubbornly. “No, I’ve got this.”

She doesn’t have it, though. They’re halfway up the wall, Stiles mostly matching her pace, when she starts to panic. Stiles can see it happening, even as she tries to fight against it, because he has panic attacks of his own.

“Erica,” he whispers. “Take a deep breath. You’re okay. The ropes have you.”

She just shakes her head, her anxiety clearly getting the best of her, and she’s frozen on the wall.

“What’s going on?” Finstock yells. “Get your butt moving!”

Stiles sends a significant look to Scott, who sidles up to Finstock and whispers something in his ear. “Oh, all right,” Finstock grumbles. “Reyes, you’re excused. Get off the wall. Bilinski, help her.”

“Look, we’ll go down together, okay?” Stiles says. “Piece of cake.”

Erica shakes her head desperately. “I can’t, Stiles.”

“You can’t stay on the wall forever,” Stiles points out. “You have a harness and ropes, and we’ll take it slow.”

Scott moves to stand underneath her. “I’m right here, too.”

Slowly, inch-by-inch, Stiles talks her down the wall, and Scott encourages her from below.

Finstock is clearly irritated and impatient, because he snaps, “Get out of those harnesses. McCall, you’re up next.”

Erica is sniffling and blinking rapidly, and Stiles wants to offer comfort, but he has no idea what to say that isn’t going to make matters worse. It’s not like they’re best friends.

So, he doesn’t say anything, and heads for the locker room with the other boys when Finstock releases them. Stiles is changing clothes and talking idly with Scott when Scott’s head whips around, and he leaves the locker room at a sprint.

Stiles frowns and finishes shrugging into his shirt before following. He finds Scott kneeling next to Erica, who is clearly in the middle of a seizure.

Stiles whips out his phone and quickly dials 911. “911, what is the nature of your emergency?”

“This is Stiles Stilinski at Beacon Hills High School,” Stiles says. “There’s a 16-year-old female, known to have epilepsy, currently having a seizure. I’m not sure if there are any injuries.”

Scott shakes his head. “No injuries. I was able to guide her to the floor.”

“My friend says no injuries,” Stiles adds.

“EMS is on the way,” the operator says. “Is there any additional information I need to pass on to the paramedics?”

“We’ve turned her on her side, but we haven’t intervened beyond that,” Stiles replies. “But we’re in the gym, and there are mats.”

“You’re doing the right thing,” the operator says. “Can you stay with her?”

“Yeah, of course,” Stiles says. “But I should probably let the front office know.”

“Can you call them or do you want me to do so?” the operator asks.

“I can do it,” Stiles replies. “Once I’m off the phone with you.”

“Have a nice day,” the operator replies.

Stiles grimaces. “Yeah, you, too.” He quickly dials the number for the front office and informs Mrs. Jones about what’s going on, and that he and Scott are staying with Erica.

“You do that, Stiles,” she says warmly. “I’m glad you and Scott were there. I’ll send the paramedics your way when they arrive.”

Stiles hangs up and hunkers down next to Scott. “What happened?”

“She was trying to climb the wall without a harness,” Scott says. “I heard her from the locker room, and just managed to catch her as she fell.”

Stiles blows out a breath. “She’s lucky you were there.”

“Yeah, lucky,” Scott murmurs. “You know, we’ve run into each other at the hospital a few times. Her epilepsy is nearly as bad as my asthma was.”

Erica is still now, pale as death, and unconscious.

“I think we should talk to my dad about it,” Stiles says. “I mean, if it would help…”

Scott nods slowly as Erica starts to come around, blinking slowly and appearing dazed. “Hey, you’re okay,” Scott says immediately. “Everything is okay. The ambulance is on the way.”

Erica moans. “No, I don’t want a fuss.”

“It was a pretty bad seizure,” Scott replies. “And you fell off the wall.”

A little more sense comes into her face at that. “You caught me.”

Scott shrugs. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

Erica starts to sit up slowly. “At least you guys didn’t film my seizure for everyone to see,” she mutters, apparently realizing that it’s just the three of them in the gym.

“Total dick move,” Stiles says firmly. “That sucked.”

Erica shoots him a faint smile. “Thanks.”

Stiles is just glad he’d deleted the video immediately when someone sent it to him. The asshole had sent it to their entire class, maybe the entire school.

Stiles would never claim to be a good person, and he knows he can be an asshole, but he tries not to kick a person when they’re already down.

The paramedics come into the gym just then with their medical bags and a gurney, and Stiles and Scott back off to let them work. At least gym is the last class of the day, so they’re not missing anything.

He and Scott walk outside, and Stiles bumps Scott’s shoulder with his own. “Good job on probably saving Erica’s life today, dude. That was like some superhero shit.”

Scott grins, clearly pleased with the praise. “Yeah, well, you were really good on the phone with the 911 operator.”

Stiles shrugs. “I’ve heard my dad on calls enough now to know what information they need and how to deliver it in an efficient manner.”

“You still thinking about becoming a cop?” Scott asks.

Stiles shakes his head. “FBI, I think. After meeting Agent Marsh, I’m very interested.”

“You’d be great, dude,” Scott replies.

And Stiles is starting to feel like they’re both on the same page again.

~~~~~

Derek thinks that this is probably one of the hardest decisions an alpha has to make: when to accept that an omega werewolf in their territory is too far gone to be saved. His mom might have made another choice when the pack was large and healthy, and the territory seemed completely stable. Laura would have done exactly as Noah is doing, though.

There’s a place in the Preserve where the Hales had buried their dead—the ones who hadn’t died of old age anyway. Noah puts the man in the back of his Jeep, and then they drive out to one of the trailheads and hike in.

Noah had pulled an all-nighter, and Derek expects him to show some sign of fatigue, but he doesn’t. They make the trip in silence, and there’s a part of Derek that wants to stop all of this, but he knows that Joe wants to die.

If Noah releases him, he’ll either wind up killing someone, as he’d almost killed Isaac Lahey the night before, or he’ll bring the attention of the hunters.

There are no good options here; only the least bad one.

“We don’t have to do this,” Noah says quietly when they’ve reached the creek. “Even if you can’t stay here, there has to be another place you can go.”

Joe shakes his head. His eyes are clearer today, and maybe that’s the sleep Stiles had given him, or the breakfast they’d fed him. Without a pack to help stabilize him, though, it’s not going to last.

“I want to be with my pack,” Joe says. “I slept last night, Sheriff, for the first time in ages, and if you don’t want to do it, and you want to give me a gun with a wolfsbane bullet, I’ll take it.”

“What do you want?” Noah asks. “I’ll give you whatever peace I can at the end.”

“I want to die by the claw, and not a hunter’s weapon,” Joe replies plaintively. “Please, Alpha.”

Noah’s expression is pained, and he puts his head down for a long moment. Joe’s expression falls, and he opens his mouth, probably to beg, and then Noah’s eyes glow red, and his claws come out. Joe is dead a few seconds later, his throat torn out.

If anyone finds the body, they’ll think it was a wild animal. A bullet would have indicated suicide, Derek is sure. In any case, Joe hadn’t seen it coming, and Derek is quick to catch him, easing his body down gently.

Joe’s eyes are wide open in death, and Derek reaches out to close them.

“I told him that we’d bury him,” Derek says. “We didn’t bring shovels.”

“No, we didn’t,” Noah says heavily. “Let’s see if we can find a resting place for him.”

Derek remembers how Stiles and Scott had found the half of Laura’s body that he’d buried, and he understands. A wild animal doesn’t bury its kills; people who commit suicide don’t bury themselves.

Derek can make all the promises he likes, but the good of the pack has to come first. “I know, but I promised.”

Noah rests a hand on Derek’s shoulder. “We’ll do the best we can, okay?”

They manage to find a cave not far away, and they carry the body in there. “We can come back in time,” Noah says. “And bury the bones.”

Derek nods. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry, son,” Noah says heavily. “I really am.”

“You’re doing the right thing for the pack,” Derek says hoarsely. “I know you’ll always do the right thing for us. This is—this is the hardest thing my mom ever dealt with, and she usually sent her left hand for that. You did it yourself.”

“I had to,” Noah admits. “I couldn’t ask anyone else to do it. And what do you mean by left hand?”

“There are traditional positions in the pack,” Derek says quietly, looking down at Joe’s body. “The right hand, the second in command. The left hand, the enforcer, the one who does the pack’s dirty work. There’s the emissary, which is always a magic user.”

Noah nods. “I don’t know who I’d make my left hand, Derek, but you’re my right, and Stiles will likely be emissary when he’s trained. Until then, I’ll take care of my own dirty work. But I don’t consider this to be.”

Noah touches Joe’s forehead. “He needed a way out, and he took it. He made the honorable decision at the end.” Noah stands, and he says, “Do what you would usually do, Derek. We can’t bury him now, but we’ll do what we can for him.”

Derek clears his throat. “Joe was husband to Diana, father to Joey and Jenny.” He had gotten all of the names of Joe’s pack from him before Scott and Stiles arrived home, and he recites them now.

He hadn’t asked for the names just for this reason, though, but also to pass along to the FBI to investigate. It hadn’t been a large pack—about twelve individuals, mostly family and extended family.

In the end, Derek has to focus on the fact that they’d given Joe Douglas some measure of peace, and someone would remember the names of the dead.

“Are you okay?” Derek asks Noah.

Noah shakes his head. “I shouldn’t be, but I am. I don’t feel all that differently from when I put Peter out of his misery.”

Derek isn’t too surprised by that. The alpha instincts can be very strong, and push werewolves to do things they would never do if they’d been a beta.

“I need to get some sleep before I go back on shift again,” Noah says. “I’m going to see if I can get some additional information on Isaac Lahey, too. I suspect there’s abuse going on.”

“What can you do about it?” Derek asks.

Noah’s expression is rather wolfish. “Well, if I’m nearby and overhear something, I can intervene due to there being exigent circumstances.”

Derek frowns. “Do you want me to do the same? I don’t mind keeping an eye on the kid.”

He hates to see someone being abused, and it seems clear that Isaac is.

Noah hesitates, and then says, “Yeah, but be careful. We won’t be able to explain an assault on a human if it’s not justified in the moment.”

Derek snorts. “I don’t need to hurt him to stop him from hurting someone else.”

Noah goes straight to bed when they get back to the house, but Derek had enough sleep, and is still feeling a little wired. He decides that running will help burn off some energy, and he can do some recon around town.

He avoids the area where he knows the Argents are living, and instead takes a loop around the Preserve and past the Laheys’ residence. School is still in session, so he doesn’t expect to see or hear anything.

Derek makes a note of where the house is, though, and he figures that one way of protecting himself and the pack is to become a common fixture, so his presence is unremarked upon.

He stops for a coffee and a sandwich, and then, on a whim, runs out to the Preserve, and to the old Hale house. Derek stands in front of the ruins, and feels as though a hand is squeezing his heart.

There’s no forgetting his past, but Derek knows that he can’t let the past define him. He has a new pack, and a position as the alpha’s right hand.

Derek can’t get the picture of Joe’s face out of his mind, the torment, and he knows how easily that could have been him.

But it’s not.

~~~~~

Noah takes a long nap when he gets back home, getting up midafternoon, just before Stiles and Scott arrive home.

He’s in the kitchen, drinking coffee to wake up. Noah knows that something is going on because Scott and Stiles are jostling each other and giving each other speaking looks.

“Spit it out, boys,” Noah says. “I’m too tired to play charades.”

“How did things go today?” Stiles asks hesitantly.

“It’s been taken care of, and that’s all we’ll say about it,” Noah says with finality. “I understand that you’re both probably curious, but it’s best that you don’t know more.”

Stiles takes a deep breath. “What we don’t know, we can’t tell anyone.”

“Pretty much,” Noah says. “And no one needs to know where that poor man is right now. He’s safe from the hunters, and that’s the important thing.”

That’s clearly not the point of the conversation, though, because Scott says, “We think we might have a potential pack member.”

Noah nods. “Shoot.”

“Erica Reyes,” Stiles says succinctly. “She’s in our grade, and she has severe epilepsy. She had another seizure today, and could have been seriously injured. Also, pretty sure she has some idea Scott is a werewolf since he caught her falling off the climbing wall.”

Noah hums under his breath. “What about her parents?”

Scott shrugs. “I think I might have seen her mom a few times at the hospital when we were both there.”

“Where is she now?” Noah asks.

“They took her to the hospital,” Stiles says. “She—Dad, it’s been bad. She’s had seizures before, and some assholes filmed it and sent it to the rest of the school.”

Scott grimaces. “People were pretty awful, too.”

Noah knows what can happen during a seizure, so he can just imagine. “All right. I was going to have a chat with Mel anyway, and I know she’s working nights. I’ll stop by the hospital and see if I can catch her.” He straightens. “And Stiles, don’t forget that we have that meeting on Saturday.”

Stiles nods. “I remember.”

He doesn’t sound too happy about it, and Noah rubs his hand over the top of Stiles’ head. “It’s going to be fine, kiddo. I promise. If this teacher doesn’t work out, I’ll reach back out to Agent Marsh and get another name.”

Noah finishes off his coffee. “There’s money in the drawer for dinner. Do you guys have homework?”

Stiles nods. “Yeah, we both do.”

“Better get to it, then,” Noah replies. “You can play video games later.”

“Sure thing, Dad,” Stiles says easily. “Work first, play later.”

Noah looks at Scott. “And you?”

“I’ll get it done,” Scott promises.

“Scott, you’re welcome to stay tonight, and I’ll let your mom know that I issued the invitation,” Noah says. “But you know that she and I both are interested in you getting your grades up.”

“I’ll keep him on task, Dad,” Stiles says.

Noah imagines that it’s probably a lot easier for Stiles to do that these days with Allison out of Scott’s life for the foreseeable future.

He gets cleaned up and changes into his uniform, making his first stop the hospital. He has no idea how long Erica is going to be in the hospital, and that’s the most natural place to arrange to run into her.

To his pleasure, Mel is working the admissions desk when he enters. “Noah,” she says with a smile. “Is everything okay?”

“The boys are at my place, and they have money for dinner,” Noah assures her. “Stiles is riding herd on Scott to make sure he gets his homework done.”

Mel smiles. “I’m glad he has someone who won’t distract him, and will instead keep him focused. But I’m sure that’s not why you stopped by.”

“I wanted to speak with you about a half-assed plan I have, but I also want to talk to Erica Reyes,” Noah replies. “The boys said she’d been brought to the hospital right after school today.”

Melissa grimaces. “Yeah, poor kid. Do you think she’s into something?”

“I think I might be able to help her,” Noah counters. “Scott doesn’t have to worry about his asthma anymore.”

As the words sink in, Mel first starts to shake her head, and then she really stops to think. “I shouldn’t be talking to you about her medical condition, you know that, Noah.”

Noah nods. “I do know that, so tell me—in general, if someone has epilepsy and the medications aren’t working, what are the options?”

Mel purses her lips. “In general, the stronger the epilepsy medications are, the worse the side effects. Someone with severe epilepsy, the medications are going to be potent and the side effects will be almost worse than the cure.”

“And living a normal life?” Noah asks.

“Almost impossible,” Mel admits. “In general, and only hypothetically.”

Noah nods. “Got it. Any problem with me talking to her?”

“She’s alone, and she’s due to be released soon,” Mel admits. “The only reason she hasn’t been is that her parents weren’t available to pick her up until a little later tonight.”

Noah nods. “Where can I find her?”

“She wasn’t admitted, so she’s still in the ER, that way,” Mel says directing him.

Noah knows his way around the ER, and he finds the lone teenage girl sitting on the side of an ER bed, wearing Beacon Hills High gym clothes, her hair a frizzy mess.

“Hello,” Noah says, trying not to startle her.

Erica looks up, and she looks confused. “Sheriff Stilinski. Did something happen?”

“No, but my son tells me that you had a pretty rough day today,” Noah replies. “And since I was in the neighborhood anyway, I thought I’d stop in.”

Her expression is confused. “It’s not like we’re friends.”

“Maybe not, but they both expressed concern for you,” Noah says. “It seemed like the neighborly thing to do to check on you while I was here.”

She sighs. “Scott saved my life, you know? I have no idea how he got across the gym that fast, or how he caught me. He doesn’t look that strong.”

Noah gives her a look, and realizes that he can’t be the one to make the offer. It would be too weird. “Why don’t you talk to Scott about how he overcame his asthma?” Noah suggests. “Because it might work for you, too.”

Erica gives him a suspicious look. “It’s not some weird herbal remedy, is it? Because I can assure you that my mom has tried most of those.”

“It’s something completely different,” Noah replies. “And Scott’s mom knows about it, and so does Stiles. It’s a bit out of the ordinary, but you’ve seen what it’s done for Scott.”

“That’s all you’re giving me,” Erica says, showing a hit of fire.

“Anything else, and you’d probably think I’m being inappropriate,” Noah counters.

Erica smiles. “Well, you’re not wrong about that.”

“Talk to Scott and Stiles,” Noah says. “I think you’ll find it a revelation.”

Erica looks thoughtful. “Yeah. I bet. Thank you, Sheriff. And thanks for checking on me.”

On a whim, Noah grabs a card from his wallet and hands it to her. “You ever need me, you can call, okay?”

Erica flushes. “Thanks.”

Noah is getting a vibe, but he can’t quite quantify it, so he just says, “I hope you feel better soon.”

“I’m never going to feel better,” Erica mutters.

“Talk to Scot,” Noah says gently. “I think you might be surprised.”

When he heads out, he stops by the front desk to see Mel. “Do you have a break tonight?”

“In theory,” she says wryly. “Hard to say if that’s going to be a reality. But if you want to treat me to breakfast, I wouldn’t mind.”

“I’ll text you,” Noah promises, and he can’t deny that there’s something there. it might just be friendship, and the camaraderie of two single parents trying to raise teenage sons in a world that feels increasingly hostile.

But Mel is pack, and that means a lot.

The shift is quiet, the way it had been before Peter woke from his coma. There are no wild animal attacks, nothing much more than a couple of vandalism calls and one for a drunk driver.

Noah texts Mel as he’s getting off, and arranges to meet her at the local diner for breakfast. “How was it tonight?” Mel asks as she sits down across from him.

Noah shrugs. “It was quiet, which I’m not sure I really trust these days. What about you?”

“Same,” Melissa says. “A case of food poisoning, and a nasty laceration, but that was about it. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“I think we need to be prepared for that,” Noah replies. “Argent told me that his father is in town, and I don’t think that means anything good.”

Mel grimaces. “I don’t suppose there’s anything you can do to run him out of town.”

“I wish,” Noah replies. “I don’t know of any particular crime he’s committed, so he has the right to be here to support his daughter.”

Mel raises her eyebrows. “And if he’s the reason she turned out the way she did?”

“Then I’ll wait for him to slip up,” Noah replies. “And I’ll deal with him when he does. I think it would be helpful if we could identify some additional, key people who can be in the know and help protect us and our kids.”

Mel frowns. “What are you thinking? You’re not thinking about actually turning people?”

Noah shakes his head. “No, not necessarily. Just people who are sympathetic and won’t look the other way when the hunters attack.”

Mel nods and says, “We’ll need to be careful about it, but I understand what you’re going for, and I agree that it’s necessary. They hide in plain sight, and do whatever they feel like. If you hadn’t caught Kate in the act of kidnapping Scott, I’m not sure she would have faced any consequences.”

“Well, we had her and Allison for kidnapping Stiles, but I would agree that it makes things a little more difficult,” Noah replies.

Mel looks thoughtful. “A couple of people come to mind, actually. I’ll feel them out carefully.”

“That’s all I can ask,” Noah replies. “Thanks.”

“We’re in this together, right?” Mel says. “It’s not something I would have sought out, but it’s what we have to deal with.”

That about sums it up, Noah thinks. They’re in the middle of it, and it’s up to them to make the best of it.

Chapter 2

Stiles is feeling apprehensive about the next day and meeting his potential teacher as he eats lunch with Scott. “Cheer up, Stiles,” Scott says. “I’m sure it will be fine.”

“I’m not,” Stiles says. “It could be a complete disaster. It probably will be a disaster. They’re going to take one look at me and decide I’m hopeless.”

“You’re not hopeless.”

It’s not Scott saying it, but Erica, as she sits down next to him. “If we’re going to talk about someone being hopeless, it would be me.”

Scott sends Stiles a startled look. “Um, hi?”

“Hi,” Erica says. “The sheriff said I should talk to you about how you cured your asthma. Does it have anything to do with you making first line?”

“Maybe,” Scott says hesitantly. “Sheriff Stilinski said you should talk to me? When was that?”

“When he visited me in the hospital yesterday,” she replies. “And thanks for being decent.”

Stiles shrugs. “It’s what everyone should do, you know?”

“But not what everyone does,” Erica points out cynically.

“To answer your question, though, you can come to Stiles’ house after school today, and I can show you,” Scott says. “We’ve been doing our homework there.”

Erica looks a little skeptical about that. “This isn’t some weird thing, right?”

“Not like you mean,” Stiles says. “And before you ask, it’s also not a cult, not a faith healing thing, and not snake oil.”

Erica still looks skeptical. “That doesn’t leave a lot, and I’m not sure it makes me feel any better.”

Scott shrugs. “Suit yourself. You can come or not, it’s up to you.”

Erica gives him a long look. “Okay, I’m in, but if you try anything gross, I’ll end you.”

“That’s not our speed,” Stiles replies. “Promise. Meet us by my locker, and I’ll give you a ride.”

At least the idea of telling Erica what’s really going on is a great distraction for the rest of the day. Erica does meet them at Stiles’ locker, and she maintains a distrustful silence as Stiles drives them to his house.

“Okay,” Erica says as they enter. “Spill.”

“You want something to drink?” Stiles asks. “A soda, water?”

“I want to know what this cure is,” Erica says impatiently. “Come on.”

“You’d better sit down,” Scott says gently. “It’s a little surprising.”

“I think I can handle it,” Erica replies, crossing her arms. “Spit it out.”

“It’s easier if I show you,” Scott says, and then shifts, revealing golden eyes and a mouthful of sharp teeth.

Erica startles, her hazel eyes going wide. “What the actual fuck?”

“Told you that it wasn’t a cult, or snake oil, or anything like that,” Stiles says. “It’s called lycanthropy.”

Erica has a hand on her chest, and she’s breathing a little heavily, but Stiles can see that fear is quickly being replaced by fascination. “And you don’t have a problem with asthma at all anymore?”

Scott shifts back. “I haven’t needed my inhaler since getting bitten. Of course, I’m not pleasant to be around during the full moon.”

“Hell, that’s already true of me,” Erica jokes. “Where do I sign up?”

“You have to be bitten by the alpha,” Scott replies. “And that’s the sheriff.”

Erica raises her eyebrows. “Kinky.”

“Pretty sure that’s why he wanted Scott to approach you first,” Stiles points out. “It’s slightly less weird that way.”

“Slightly,” Erica replies. “But your dad is still going to have to bite me, you know.” She looks at Stiles. “What about you? Are you a werewolf, too?”

Stiles shakes his head. “No, but I might be able to do magic. Sometimes. When it’s super necessary.”

“Okay, that’s cool,” Erica says. “So, when can we do this?”

“I’ll text my dad,” Stiles replies. “Let him know that you’re interested.”

Erica throws herself down on the couch. “How long will I have to wait?”

“I don’t know,” Stiles says. “It depends on where my dad is and what he’s doing right now.”

He can’t blame her for being impatient. To have to deal with her condition for this long, being told there’s a cure—even if it’s something like becoming a werewolf—Stiles wouldn’t want to wait either. Especially since her seizures come on unexpectedly, and could strike at any second.

Erica crosses her arms and pouts, and she’s still looking pouty when Derek enters the house, wearing joggers and a hoodie. Derek looks around the room and asks, “What’s going on?”

“We told Erica about the bite,” Stiles replies. “She’s in.”

Derek raises his eyebrows. “Your dad gave you clearance for that?”

“He was the one who suggested I talk to Scott about it,” Erica says pertly. “To deal with my seizures.”

Derek blinks, and then he says, “Yeah, that makes sense. The bite will take care of that for you.”

“How?” Erica asks bluntly.

“Let me grab some water,” Derek replies. “Then I can answer your questions.”

He returns with a bottle of water and pulls his hoodie off over his head, the t-shirt he’s wearing underneath riding up a bit to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of toned abs.

Stiles catches himself looking, and quickly glances away, only to see Erica smirking at him, an eyebrow quirked.

He just hitches a shoulder. He’s beginning to think that he’s less than straight, but Derek is so far out of his league to be laughable.

But he’s very pretty to look at, and someday, maybe Stiles will be able to tell him that he helped Stiles figure himself out.

Derek sits down and says, “The short answer is that werewolves have a heightened healing ability. It’s not that Scott’s asthma is cured, it’s that his healing factor compensates for it. If you take the bite, it will work the same for you.”

“If?” Erica asks incredulously. “If you knew what my epilepsy did to me, you wouldn’t say that.”

“Bite rejection happens, and it will kill you,” Derek says bluntly.

“I think I’d rather die trying to improve my life than sit around being miserable forever,” Erica shoots back. “I’ll take that chance.”

The front door opens, and his dad calls, “I’ve got groceries, and I could use some help.”

They all hop up to help his dad with unloading and putting things away, and his dad says, “Good to see you up and about, Erica. How are you feeling?”

“Impatient,” Erica admits.

“Well, sit tight until we can get this taken care of, and then we can call for pizza for dinner, and discuss everything.”

Erica doesn’t argue with his dad, but helps where she can, and then his dad sits down with them in the living room.

“I’m going to grab a quick shower,” Derek says.

“Do you want us to wait?” Noah asks.

Derek shakes his head. “No, it’s good. I’ve said my piece.”

Noah sits down with a bottle of water, and he says, “The real question here is whether I need to contact your parents before we go any further.”

Erica shakes her head. “No. They don’t—they’d probably say no, but it’s my life, and I don’t want to wait another two years that I might not have, taking medications that make me miserable and barely work.”

Noah nods. “Derek explained to you what the risks are?”

“If it doesn’t work, I’ll die,” Erica says bluntly. “Which would suck, but I’d rather die trying than give up.”

“That’s fair,” his dad replies. “And I certainly don’t blame you. Did they explain what would happen around the full moon?”

Erica shrugs. “Just that I’ll be unbearable. If we can sync up my period to the lunar cycle, that might be for the best.”

Stiles chokes on a laugh at the look on his dad’s face. “I would have no idea how you’d do that,” his dad says. “So I can’t help you there. But I do need you to understand the risks, and the possible problems. And I need you to articulate them for me so that I know that you know.”

It might be the seriousness of his dad’s voice or maybe just that she understands that this is the barrier to getting what she wants. “I understand that the bite could be dangerous for me and the people around me, up to and including death. During the full moon, I could be dangerous to other people.”

“You may need to be restrained,” Noah says. “You won’t have a choice about that, not until I think you’re safe.”

Erica nods. “Got it. You’ll lock me up for my own good.”

“No, not your own good,” his dad says. “For the good of the pack, because that’s what you’ll be, Erica. You’ll be joining the pack, and I have an obligation to keep the pack safe. If you put that in jeopardy, I will take action. There is a hierarchy here, Erica.”

She takes a deep, audible breath. “I get it. You’re the head of the family, and you have to protect us. That’s more than my parents have been able to do.”

“I’d ask if you want to think about it, but I know the answer to that already,” his dad says. “And I should make you think about it, but I know that this offers you something that you never thought possible. You want it now.”

“Yes, I do, Sheriff,” Erica says. “I get it.”

“There are hunters who will kill us if we bring attention to ourselves,” his dad says. “They present a danger. If they know you’re a werewolf, you’ll be a target. There are things we can do to protect you and each other, but there are rules.”

Erica nods. “Got it. Look, Sheriff, I have to take my medications every day at certain times, or I get even sicker. I have rules about what I can and can’t do, okay? I’m used to that.”

“Okay,” Noah says. “Rule number one is that we don’t draw attention to who and what we are. Rule number two is that we do things by the book as much as possible. Sometimes, it’s not possible, but we make the attempt.”

Erica nods. “I understand.”

“Rule number three is that there are going to be times when I give orders to keep you and the rest of the pack safe,” Noah continues. “I have no problem explaining what my reasoning is, but may not be able to do it in the moment. There will be times when you’ll just have to follow orders and discuss later.”

Erica grimaces, but she says, “I get it, and I can do that.”

“Then I’m going to offer you the bite,” Noah says. “You can still think about it.”

Erica shakes her head. “No, I want this.”

His dad transforms, his eyes glowing red, and says, “Give me your arm. I’ll be as gentle as I can be.”

Stiles is a little surprised that his dad hasn’t insisted on talking to her parents, but he figures he’ll ask about that later.

Erica holds out her arm, and she doesn’t even flinch when his dad bites down.

Scott has already run up the stairs to the bathroom for their first-aid kit, and he’s ready with gauze, antiseptic, and medical tape, and he bandages her up.

“How are you feeling?” Noah asks.

Erica shrugs. “A little sore, but I don’t feel any different.”

“Best wait a couple of hours to see how things go,” Derek says, coming downstairs. “If you’re still feeling okay, then you’ll likely go through the transformation just fine.”

“I’ll call for pizza,” his dad says. “What does everyone like?”

When he dad goes to the kitchen to call their local pizza place, Stiles trails after him. “Dad? Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, you can ask,” his dad replies. “But I can’t promise to answer.”

“Why didn’t you insist on talking to Erica’s parents?” Stiles asks.

Noah pauses. “Ah, yeah. I can see why you might be wondering about that. I’m not sure I can fully explain it, but I just have a feeling. When you were in the hospital, I was either there, or I had someone sitting with you. When I went by the hospital, there was no one with her, and they were waiting to release her until one of her parents was free to pick her up. I want to know they can be trusted before I bring them into the pack, but Erica can benefit from the bite, and she shouldn’t be forced to wait and risk serious illness or injury in the meantime.”

Stiles nods slowly. “That makes sense. But about this morning—“

Noah holds up a hand. “We’re not going to talk about that here. We can have a full discussion about it later, but not right now, okay?”

Stiles immediately understands what his dad is saying. “I understand.”

“Good,” his dad replies. “Same holds true for Scott, okay?”

Stiles nods, knowing that his dad and Derek might have rescued the omega from the hunters, but it’s not like a court of law would understand his dad’s actions. It’s best not to talk about it.

The thing is, Stiles trusts his dad, and he believes that he’ll act in the best interests of the pack.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Stiles says.

His dad wraps an arm around Stiles’ shoulders and presses his lips to Stiles’ forehead. “I love you, kiddo, and no matter what happens tomorrow, that’s never going to change. You know that, right?”

Stiles feels a warmth in his chest at that. “Thanks, Dad.”

After a couple of hours, Erica isn’t showing any signs of bite rejection, and they’re full on pizza and coke. The gathering takes on a bit of a celebratory feel at that point, and they start a Halo marathon.

Erica gives as good as she gets, and Derek even joins in, his dad warning them not to stay up too late before he goes into the station for his overnight shift.

They fall asleep in a pile around 3 am, which means morning comes all too early. Erica is alert and bright-eyed, though. The bite has already started to fade, and she’s clearly feeling really good.

“This is amazing!” Erica says. “Do you always feel this good?” she asks Scott.

Scott blinks. “Um, I guess? I was mostly just freaked out, though, to be honest.”

“Should I keep taking my medication?” Erica asks Derek.

Derek shrugs. “I’m not a doctor, but probably, at least until the bite fades entirely, and we know it’s taken.”

Erica nods. “Got it. That’s fine. I should probably get home, though. My mom might have noticed that I’m gone by now.”

Stiles frowns. “They wouldn’t have noticed last night?”

Erica shrugs. “They probably thought I went to bed early, or something. They work late a lot, and they know if I have a seizure, the hospital will call them.”

Stiles remembers what his dad had said about not quite trusting her parents, and it’s pretty clear that her parents are distant, and strangely unconcerned. Maybe there’s a reasonable explanation, but it strikes Stiles as a bit odd, too.

“I can take you home,” Derek offers. “Stiles, you should probably get ready.”

Stiles sighs. “Yeah.”

Scott rubs his eyes. “And I need to get to the animal clinic. Good luck today, Stiles.”

“What’s going on?” Erica asks.

Stiles shrugs. “I’m meeting a potential tutor for my magic.”

“Good luck!” Erica says cheerfully. “I’m sure you’ll do great.”

Stiles can’t help but compare Erica’s response to the bite to Scott’s. Erica seems to be embracing being a werewolf, but Stiles knows that Scott had viewed his asthma as an irritant, even though it could be life-threatening at times. Erica, on the other hand, has a debilitating condition with medications that have a long list of side effects.

Erica clearly has a new lease on life, and the hope of something even better, and Stiles doesn’t blame her a bit.

That all means that the house is empty by the time his dad arrives home from his shift. “Just got a phone call, and Moira Keynes will be here in about an hour,” his dad says, poking his head into Stiles’ bedroom. “Everyone else go home?”

“Derek drove Erica, and Scott needed to go to the animal clinic,” Stiles replies. “Erica said her parents probably didn’t even know she was gone overnight.”

Noah comes in and sits on the edge of Stiles’ bed. “I checked them out. Her dad is an insurance adjustor, and her mom is an attorney. I checked in with Mel, too. Her parents will pick her up from the hospital, but she said they don’t come running.”

“Did you know that Derek has taken up running?” Stiles asks.

“He’s keeping an eye on Isaac Lahey,” Noah replies. “And, since we’re alone right now, ask whatever you’d like to ask about the omega.”

Stiles hesitates, and then he just shakes his head. “I guess I don’t really have any questions. He lost his pack, and he didn’t want to be here anymore. I can understand that.”

“I hope that’s never an issue for you, son,” his dad says heavily. “But I’m glad you can extend empathy.”

“I’m just glad I could give him some sleep, I guess,” Stiles says. “Are you going to try to talk to Erica’s parents?”

“Eventually,” Noah replies. “I’m going to wait until she inevitably starts spending a lot of time here, and then I’ll talk to them and feel them out. Are you ready?”

Stiles nods. “As I’ll ever be.”

“You’re going to be fine,” his dad says. “I’ll get cleaned up. She said she was going to rent a car, and would be here by ten.”

Stiles rubs his hand over his head. “Yeah, okay. You want breakfast? I need something to do.”

“I’ll take whatever you want to make, kiddo,” his dad says.

Stiles goes downstairs and starts rummaging in the fridge. He finds a loaf of French bread and eggs and a package of breakfast sausage, and Stiles starts making French toast.

Derek enters the kitchen and asks, “Do you need any help?”

Stiles shakes his head. “No, I’ve got it. Thanks. Erica get home okay?”

“I walked her inside, and her parents left a note to let her know they’d gone out to brunch,” Derek says with a disapproving expression. “I asked her if she’d be okay at home alone, and she said she would.”

Stiles flips the French toast. “That doesn’t seem great.”

Derek shrugs. “People are weird, which is why I prefer wolves.”

“Wolves don’t abandon the sick or injured?” Stiles asks curiously.

Derek shakes his head. “No, anyone who’s sick or injured ends up looking after the young. Wolves take care of their own.”

There’s something about that blunt statement that sets Stiles at ease. “What if this tutor doesn’t work out?”

“You’ll still be pack, and we’ll find a different tutor,” Derek says easily. He rubs the top of Stiles’ head with his hand. “You built the bonds that pull us together, Stiles. Don’t worry about it so much.”

Stiles hopes that’s the case.

~~~~~

Noah takes a long, hot shower to wash off the grime of the night. He’s hoping that he’ll get at least 24 hours off, but he’s not going to hold his breath.

What he hadn’t told Stiles is that he knows the Reyeses. He knows that her dad had been the insurance adjustor for Jackson Whittemore’s biological parents, and her mom is an attorney working for an insurance defense firm in town. Noah has been a witness in a couple of her cases.

And Noah can’t remember a single instance where they mentioned their daughter, or that she had a serious illness.

Granted, Noah isn’t friends with them, not really, but he would have thought they’d have at least mentioned having a daughter Stiles’ age when he mentioned his kid.

Besides, Noah could smell the sickness on her, and sense her desperation, and he knows he can help. So much of his life is reacting to bad things that happen. With Erica, Noah has a chance to prevent something bad from happening.

But right now, Noah needs to focus on his kid and this prospective tutor.

He comes downstairs to find Stiles and Derek eating French toast and sausages, and Stiles says, “I stuck a plate for you in the oven, Dad.”

“Thanks,” Noah replies. “What’s up?”

Derek shrugs. “I’ve been jogging around the Laheys’ house, but I haven’t heard anything that would give me cause for concern.”

Noah glances at Stiles, who says, “Noted, Daddio. We can sic Scott with his puppy-dog eyes on him.”

Noah snorts. “That might just work.”

The doorbell rings just as they’re finishing their meal, and Derek stands up. “I’ll handle the dishes.”

Noah goes to answer with Stiles trailing after him, and when Noah opens the door, he sees a diminutive woman, who can’t be more than 5 feet tall. She has salt and pepper hair worn in a loose braid, with bright blue earrings dangling to her shoulders.

Her clothing is chic—a blue and white blouse, blue jeans, and a bright blue peacoat, with matching Chuck Taylors.

She is, in short, not what Noah had expected, but she smells faintly of ozone, like the air right after a lightning strike, both fresh and powerful. He has no doubt about her identity.

“You must be Sheriff Stilinski,” she says forthrightly. “I’m Moira.”

“I’m Noah,” he replies, shaking her hand. “Please, come in.”

She breezes inside with only a large tote bag over one shoulder, and immediately focuses on Stiles, who’s hovering in the living room, appearing torn between staying and running away.

“Well, look at you,” Moira says. “Tell me, young spark: what is the thing or the person that you believe in most?”

Stiles doesn’t even hesitate. “My dad.”

“Ah,” Moira says with a smile. “Then I think we might be able to do some good together. Let’s sit, and we can get to know each other.” She raises her voice. “And Mr. Hale, you can come out just as soon as you finish those dishes!”

Stiles blinks at that, then a cautious smile breaks out over his face, and his shoulders relax. “I thought—I didn’t—“

“You thought I’d take one look at you and decide that you’re hopeless,” Moira replies. “But what you are is young and untrained. Come, sit.”

Stiles sits down on the couch, and Moira sits next to him. Noah takes the recliner where he can keep an eye on things.

“Now, tell me,” Moira says. “Your father said you used magic to get yourself free in a situation where you were being held against your will. Tell me exactly what you did.”

Stiles takes a deep breath, and then he begins reciting the story that he’d given Noah and the FBI agents with a lack of affect that speaks of trauma. “I was kidnapped by a classmate and her aunt,” Stiles says. “Her aunt is a hunter. She tasered me and cuffed me to a metal frame. She hit me a few times and shocked me with more electricity. When she realized I wasn’t a werewolf, she said I could still be bait.”

He takes a deep breath. “They left me alone, and I knew that they would kill me if I couldn’t get free. I taught myself how to pick locks when I was ten. I—I was wishing for a lock pick or a paperclip, and then I thought I heard a sound like the tumblers moving. So, I just imagined that I was picking the lock.”

Moira hasn’t interrupted him, but now she asks, “Did you picture a lock pick, or did you imagine what a lock pick would do?”

That question seems to knock Stiles out of reliving the trauma, which is clearly what’s happening. He’s pale, and Noah can smell an acrid touch of fear. “Um, I—I imagined what a lock pick would do.”

Moira nods. “Then what?”

Stiles shrugs. “I found an open window. We were out in the Preserve, so I hid as best as I could. I knew Dad would find me.”

“Any other instances?” Moira asks.

Stiles glances at Noah, obviously conflicted.

“Unless you’re trying to kill someone without cause, your secrets are my secrets,” Mora says. “And until you’re ready to take over as emissary, your pack’s secrets are mine, as well.”

Noah nods. “Go ahead, Stiles.” He knows it’s a risk, but Marsh had recommended her, and Stiles needs training.

“We had a feral omega here,” Stiles says. “And he was causing a ruckus, so I thought it would be better if he slept.”

“And you put him to sleep?” Moira asks. “Just to sleep?”

Stiles nods. “Yeah. I didn’t want to hurt him, but I didn’t want to alert the neighbors either.”

“Any other incidents?” Moira asks.

Stiles shakes his head. “No, but it’s not like I meant to put him to sleep, and I’ve been trying to avoid it. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“I don’t think you will,” Moira says soothingly. “So far, you’ve only acted to protect yourself and your pack.”

Derek has joined them, and he clears his throat. “Stiles.”

Stiles flushes. “Oh, yeah, I, um, kind of strengthened the pack bonds.”

“Did you include anyone you knew to be unwilling?” Moira asks.

Stiles shakes his head. “No, I just included the people I already thought of as pack. I think they’re okay with it.”

“We’re all okay with it, Stiles,” Noah replies. “And it’s been helpful so far.”

Moira’s gaze sharpens. “It would. Have you used it to find another member of your pack?”

“A bit,” Noah says. “But I wasn’t the alpha then. I think I’d do a better job finding him now.”

“Where are the other members of your pack, Alpha Stilinski?” Moira asks formally.

Noah can feel something shift inside him. “Scott is at the animal clinic. Erica is at home, probably asleep.”

“She’s a new beta?” Moira asks. “One you bit?”

“As of last night,” Noah confirms. “She has—hopefully had—severe epilepsy.”

Moira nods. “The bite was an act of compassion then. Sometimes, it is. Have you tried strengthening your pack bond with her, Stiles?”

Stiles shakes his head. “No, I mean, even if I was sure of how to do it, it seems like early days yet, and—I don’t think I’ll need to?”

His inflection turns it into a question. “Why?” Moira asks.

“My dad bit her,” Stiles says easily. “She’s already pack. The bond will strengthen on its own.”

Moira smiles. “You have good instincts, young spark.”

“Why do you call me that?” Stiles asks.

Moira shakes her head. “Because you have a great deal of potential. More than that, you don’t need to know right now.”

Stiles grimaces. “Yeah, that doesn’t really work for me.”

Moira laughs, sounding delighted. “That’s fair. You don’t know me yet, and you don’t trust me. I sense that you don’t trust easily.”

Stiles shrugs, but doesn’t respond verbally.

“Come, let’s sit on the floor, and I’ll teach you something,” Moira says. “As we do magic together, you’ll learn to trust me. Just know that I don’t keep this information from you because I don’t think you’re capable of handling it, but because your magic is at a critical stage. You need to know that your magic will work, so I’m going to give you some tools to help with that. Someday, when you aren’t at such a critical stage, you’ll get all the details.”

Stiles nods reluctantly. “I’m getting the feeling that arguments would be futile.”

“Quite,” Moira says, and sits cross-legged on the floor with the ease of a much younger woman.

Stiles sits down across from her, and Moira starts pulling things out of her voluminous tote bag.

Noah blinks as her arm disappears almost to the armpit, and she might be small, and the bag large, but that suggests that her bag is even bigger than what it appears to be.

“It’s bigger on the inside than it is on the outside,” Stiles murmurs, sheer, childlike delight on his face. Noah hasn’t seen Stiles this excited in—well, not since Claudia died.

Moira smiles at him. “Just so. And this is why we’re going to be careful with your magic, Stiles. The sky could be the limit for you, within certain ethical guidelines.”

Giving Stiles a goal is one of the best ways to get him to cooperate, and he nods eagerly.

“Just don’t build a portal to Narnia, Stiles,” Noah says dryly.

Derek snorts, and Stiles grins. “No promises, Daddio.”

“Portals to other universes are advanced magic, and you will not try to open one,” Moira orders. “And I’m very serious about this, Stiles. You could literally end the world.”

Stiles gulps. “Got it. Promise.”

Moira nods. “Then that’s all I’ll say about it. Now, we’ll try a candle lighting spell. It’s okay if you don’t get it right away.”

She pulls out a scarf and lays it on the floor, then places a shallow dish in the center of the scarf, and places a thick, pillar candle in the center of the dish.

Noah watches as she instructs Stiles on the ritual. Where to put the dried flowers and other things, and the words to say to light the candle. The words sound like Latin to Noah, and Stiles mouths the words a few times before he tries for real.

The candle lights up immediately. “Oh,” Stiles says in wonder. “I did that.”

“You did,” Moira replies. “And on the first try, too! Well done. Now, let’s try levitating the candle.”

Stiles manages that without much trouble, and then Moira has Stiles do a few more things, like rotating the candle while still lit.

Each time, Noah notices, Moira gives Stiles some words to say, some small ritual to do, even though the magic he’s done so far hadn’t required anything of the sort.

He assumes that Moira has a reason for that, probably having to do with what she said earlier about not wanting to stifle Stiles’ magic.

By the fourth spell, Stiles’ eyelids are starting to droop, and he yawns. “I don’t know why I’m so tired.”

“Because magic is energy,” Moira says gently. “And you’re using energy. You’re going to need sleep and calories, but sleep is probably more important right now.”

Stiles knuckles his eyes like he had as a small child. “But you just got here.”

“And I’ll be here for a long time yet,” Moira says. “I’m going to train you, Stiles, and you’re going to do well. But right now, you need rest. You’ll gain more stamina as time goes on.”

“Go take a nap, Stiles,” Noah says. “You did good.”

Stiles levers himself off the floor, and then stumbles sideways.

Derek is there in a second, putting an arm around Stiles’ waist. “I’ve got him, Noah.”

“Thanks,” Noah replies, knowing that he and Moira are going to have a chance to talk, and he wonders if that had been part of her plan all along.

When Derek comes back downstairs, he says, “I poured him into bed. He basically fell asleep on the trip up the stairs.”

Moira nods. “I suspected as much. I’m sure you have questions, Alpha Stilinski.”

“Call me Noah,” he replies. “And I’ll let you start.”

Moira raises her eyebrows. “Tell me what you noticed.”

“Stiles didn’t need special words or rituals for the other things,” Noah says pointedly. “But you had him using them today.”

“Ah, yes, I wondered if you’d caught on to that,” Moira says. “I don’t know the extent to Stiles’ power yet. Encouraging him to use ritual also encourages him to think through what he’s doing, and why he’s doing it. But if Stiles truly needs his magic, it will be there for him, as it has been so far.”

Noah nods. The explanation makes sense to him, and he knows that Stiles had been afraid that he might do something terrible without meaning to do so. “Stiles has been afraid of that.”

“He might be capable of some serious damage,” Moira admits. “Or he may only ever be capable of some small magics. He’s very young, so it’s hard to say. But we can usher him into his full potential over time.”

Noah breathes a sigh of relief that he keeps purely internal. “Thank you. I want Stiles to be as safe as he can be.”

“His gifts will see to that, but I’ll work with him,” Moira replies. “In the meantime, you’re going to need warding for this house, and any others that your pack members regularly stay at. Mr. Hale?”

“I have an efficiency apartment, but I don’t stay there much,” Derek admits. “And you can call me Derek.”

“Derek,” she says. “I would suggest you keep that apartment as a stalking horse of sorts, and stay here.”

“I usually do,” Derek admits. “I just thought—I mean, I should have my own place.”

Moira shakes her head. “Are the hunters still in town?”

“Gerard Argent is here now, too, in addition to the rest of the family,” Noah adds.

Moira frowns. “I know that name. I think it’s best that your pack sticks close together, as much as possible.”

Derek nods. “I can do that.”

“Good,” Moira replies. “I’ll work on the warding, and I’ll bring Stiles along with me. It will be good for him to learn.”

Noah’s cell phone rings, and he picks it up. “Stilinski.”

“Sheriff, we have a dead body,” Paul says. “It’s Roger Lahey. One of the neighbors called it in.”

Noah takes a breath and considers that. “Any sign of his son?”

“Camden Lahey was killed overseas while serving in the Army,” Paul says, sounding confused.

“He has a younger son, Isaac,” Noah says, a sinking feeling in his chest.

“No sign of him, sir,” Paul replies. “He might have run off.”

“Any idea on the cause of death?” Noah asks.

“Looks like another wild animal attack,” Paul admits. “Seems like he stepped out his front door for some reason, and got his throat torn out.”

“I’ll be there shortly,” Noah replies. “Keep the scene secure.”

Noah knows that it wasn’t Peter, who’s dead, or any of his pack members, which means they have another problem on top of the hunters being in town.

He looks at Derek. “Stay here, and look after Stiles.” He turns to Moira. “I’m not sure where you’re staying, or—“

“Go, do your job, Sheriff,” Moira says. “I’ve always made my own way, but this may bring a new wrinkle.”

Noah nods and quickly changes into his uniform and buckles on his gun belt. He glances at Derek as he leaves and says, “I’d consider it a favor if you’d let Erica and Scott know that I want them both here as soon as they can make it.”

Derek nods. “I’ll collect them myself once Stiles is awake.”

“Or I can look after Stiles,” Moira offers.

Noah feels a tentative trust in her, but he can’t shake the strong desire to have Derek look after the pack. “Sorry, but Derek is my right hand. I trust him. I don’t know you well enough yet.”

Moira nods, apparently not minding. “Completely understandable.” She rummages in her bag and comes up with a ball of yarn, a crochet hook, and a some sort of project. “I’ll just keep myself occupied.”

Noah does push the speed limit a bit as he heads to the Laheys’ house. The elder Lahey is on his back on the front porch, his eyes open and unseeing. There are deep wounds in his throat, and other claw marks on his chest.

“Looks like the other victims,” Paul comments. “Do you think Peter Hale’s wolf is still around?”

“I don’t know,” Noah admits. “That might be what it looks like, but let’s wait for the forensics to come back to make any judgment calls.”

Paul nods. “Got it. We did go through the house, and we didn’t find anyone.”

Noah catches the acrid scent of fear, and while it might come from Lahey, from whatever he’d seen right before it tore out his throat, he doesn’t think so. He strains his hearing, and hears a faint heartbeat.

“Let’s do another search,” Noah suggests. “If he saw what happened to his dad, he might be scared and hiding. You take the second floor, and I’ll take the basement.”

Noah is fairly certain that the heartbeat he hears is in the basement, and he wants to be the one to find the kid, to assess his guilt or innocence.

The basement has the usual detritus, but there’s a chest freezer over to the side, and the first thing Noah notices is the lack of an electric hum that Noah is used to hearing from fridges and freezers.

And then he hears the heartbeat again, going rabbit-fast, and he sees the latch on the freezer. Noah feels the red rage clouding his vision and fights it back, trying to remember why he’s doing this. He’s doing it for Stiles, and rage will not serve him right now.

Noah unlatches the freezer and opens it, and he finds Isaac curled up, shaking visibly. There are nail marks visible on the inside of the lid. “You’re okay, son,” Noah says quietly. “I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m Sheriff Stilinski. You can call me Noah. Come on out of there now. You’re not in any trouble.”

Isaac has been in there for a while, and he whispers, “I really have to use the bathroom.”

“Let’s go upstairs,” Noah replies.

He’s not too worried about allowing Isaac to use the toilet. From a forensics standpoint, Noah can’t see the downside, and he sees a lot of upsides to giving Isaac some dignity.

“Where the hell was he?” Paul asks when Isaac is in the bathroom. “I looked all over the house!”

“Did you look in the chest freezer in the basement?” Noah asks grimly.

Paul shakes his head. “No, it was latched, so I thought…” Paul trails off. “Oh, fuck. He was in there when his dad was killed?”

“Yeah, I’m going to take him to the back of the house and question him, while you make sure the body is removed,” Noah replies. “I don’t want Isaac to see his dad like that, no matter what we might suspect happened.”

Paul nods. “Yes, sir. I’ll let you know when the coast is clear. Are you going to call social services?”

“I think I’ll give it a little time,” Noah says. “Until we know for sure it was a wild animal attack, we don’t know whether Isaac is also a target.”

Paul snorts. “You and your home for wayward children, Sheriff.”

Noah shrugs. “You know as well as I do that if I call social services, the poor kid will end up in juvie. There aren’t emergency placements for sixteen-year-old boys.”

“True,” Paul says. “You’re doing the Lord’s work, Sheriff. I wish there had been someone like you around when I was his age.”

Isaac emerges from the bathroom, his shoulders hunched as though waiting for a blow to fall. “Let’s go to the kitchen, Isaac, and we can talk,” Noah says.

The kid glances towards the front door. “What about my dad?”

“Let’s go to the kitchen,” Noah says gently, but firmly. “We can talk there.”

Isaac is still shivering a bit, more from shock than cold, since the freezer hadn’t been plugged in, so Noah takes off his coat and puts it around Isaac’s shoulders.

“Your dad was killed,” Noah says quietly. “We don’t know why or what did it yet, but we’re looking into it.”

Isaac scrubs his hands over his face. “I didn’t do it. I didn’t—I wouldn’t—“

“Isaac, stop right there,” Noah orders gently. “I don’t think you had anything to do with it. It appears that something or someone attacked him, and you weren’t in a position to do that. But I need you to tell me what happened.”

Isaac shakes his head. “I can’t.”

“Your dad can’t hurt you anymore,” Noah says gently. “I’m going to get your statement, and then I’m going to bring you home with me, and you’re going to have food and sleep, okay? You’re not in trouble. No one thinks you had anything to do with this. I just need to know what happened.”

Noah puts his phone on the table, opening up the notes app so he can record their conversation.

Isaac runs a hand through his curly blond hair, and he says, “Last night, we were arguing about my grades. I haven’t been doing as well in a couple of classes, and Dad was mad about it. He—do I have to say it?”

“You don’t have to give details right now, but at least give me the broad strokes,” Noah replies.

Isaac shrugs and touches his cheek, and Noah sees a small cut there. “He threw a few things, and when I didn’t respond like he wanted, he put me in the freezer. I was there until you let me out. Normally, he doesn’t leave me in there that long, so I knew—when you let me out, I knew.”

“Do you know anyone or anything who might have had it in for him?” Noah asks.

“Besides me?” Isaac asks bitterly. “No.”

“Isaac, look at me,” Noah says, and Isaac looks up from his perusal of the grain in the kitchen table. “Did you do this?”

Isaac shakes his head vehemently. “No, I would never. He’s—he’s all I had.”

And then his shoulders start to shake as the reality hits him, and Noah shifts his chair around so he can pull Isaac into a rough hug. “You’re going to be okay,” Noah promises, and knows that he’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen.

~~~~~

“You weren’t insulted?” Derek asks Moira after Noah leaves.

She raises her eyebrows. “Now, why would I be insulted? We just met, and it’s his son’s safety at issue. You’re his right hand. It’s your job to look after the rest of the pack.”

Derek gives her a long look. “You’re not a druid.”

“Gods, no,” Moira replies, her crochet hook and fingers flying. “How dreadfully boring. Although, granted, being a darach would be exciting, but then I’d be corrupting both magic and my soul.”

Derek blinks. “I—I really don’t know what to do with that.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Moira says easily. “Your mom didn’t tell you anything, did she?”

“Just what I heard by being on the periphery,” Derek admits. He realizes that there’s no reason to hide anything from her. “She believed my sister would be alpha after her, and she was right about that.”

“Right, perhaps,” Moira says. “But I think you know more about magic users than you’ve let on.”

Derek shakes his head. “Just that there are a few different kinds. I couldn’t name them, though.”

Moira shrugs, the crochet hook still moving. “Well, I plan on ensuring the entire pack has a thorough education before I leave, but that can wait until we know more about Stiles’ abilities, and what else we’re working with.”

“Why would you drop everything to come here?” Derek asks.

Moira smiles. “I don’t know what Stiles’ power level will be yet, but there are students that come along once in a lifetime. I haven’t had one of those yet, but Stiles might be it. I couldn’t pass up on the chance.”

“Stiles is surprising,” Derek admits. “He’s a little shit, but he’s an endearing little shit.”

Moira barks a laugh. “Yes, I would believe that.”

She doesn’t say anything else, and Derek can’t leave until he knows that Stiles is awake, so he allows himself to watch her crochet. The movements are nearly hypnotic, and Derek relaxes in a way that he’s seldom allowed himself to relax since the fire.

“Do you want to learn how to crochet?” Moira asks. “It might do you good. I find it to be very meditative.”

Derek shakes his head, but he finds the offer more tempting than he wants to admit. “Maybe some other time.”

“Let me know,” Moira says cheerfully.

Derek watches as a square takes shape, and she ties it off and puts it in the bag, then pulls out a new skein of yarn and starts all over. “What are you making?”

“Eventually, it will be a blanket,” Moira replies. “A patchwork blanket of sorts. I always put a little bit of magic into whatever I’m making—comfort, or good dreams, something like that.”

“I imagine you put a little bit of magic into everything,” Derek observes.

Moira laughs. “Oh, bless you, no. That would be exhausting. But I’lll put a bit of magic into this.”

“You think that Stiles is a spark in the true sense of that term,” Derek says flatly.

Moira takes a deep breath. “It’s rare for someone Stiles’ age to be able to do what he did without any sort of training. More than that, I won’t say. Stiles doesn’t need our expectations, reasonable or not. He has to be able to discover his own abilities, and the boundaries of those, carefully.”

Derek nods slowly. “Yeah, I guess I can see that.”

Eventually, Stiles comes wandering back downstairs, scratching his stomach. “Hey, I’m starving.”

“I need to go pick up Erica and Scott,” Derek replies. “Your dad got called to a scene. Do you want to come with me? We can pick up food.”

Stiles nods eagerly. “Yeah, that sounds good. Um, Moira? Do you want us to pick up something for you?”

“That would be lovely,” Moira replies. “If you two don’t mind, I’ll wait here and work on starting to set up the wards. The initial phase works better with an empty house anyway.”

Derek doesn’t know what that really means, but he figures she knows her business. “You want to text your dad and let him know we’re picking up lunch?”

Stiles pulls out his phone and starts texting quickly. “You got it. I’m thinking hamburgers and curly fries.”

“Sounds good to me,” Derek replies absently.

“I’m texting Scott, too,” Stiles says. “He probably doesn’t get off for another hour or two, but he’ll accept it if Dad says it’s safer.”

Derek gets behind the wheel of his Camaro, and Stiles slides into the passenger seat, still texting. “Dad says to pick up food for him and Isaac. I guess he’s going to stay with us for at least tonight. Scott says it’s a slow day, so he’s fine with leaving.”

There is something about the exchange, the act of acting as Noah’s right hand, picking up the other kids that makes it feel even more like pack.

“And Erica?” Derek asks.

“Definitely down for burgers, fries, and hanging out,” Stiles replies. “Although, we should probably try to get some homework done. I don’t know what Erica’s grades are like, but Scott still has work to do.”

“Are you going to appoint yourself homework monitor?” Derek asks, amused.

Stiles rolls his eyes, which is nearly a full-body movement. “Scott wants to play lacrosse and become a veterinarian, but all this has made him take his eye off the ball. With Allison out of the picture, I think I can get him back on track, and then he’ll hopefully stay there on his own. I don’t know enough about Erica yet to know whether she needs or wants my help.”

Derek pulls up in front of Erica’s house, a modest ranch-style home with a well-manicured lawn, and she bounces out with a duffel bag in hand. She leans down at Stiles’ window. “Can you pop the trunk? My mom okayed me staying overnight.”

Derek pops the trunk, and Erica puts her bag back there and slides into the backseat. “Thanks. I’m glad you suggested lunch. I’m starving.”

“So am I,” Stiles agrees. “We’ll pick Scott up then grab food. Dad’s a little worried with the Argents running around.”

Derek glances in the rearview mirror, and he sees that Erica looks better. Her eyes are clear, her hair looks healthier, and she has it pulled back in a ponytail. She’s no longer wearing oversized clothing, but a pair of fitted jeans and a blue sweater.

“You look nice,” Derek comments.

Erica smiles. “Thanks! I feel so much better today.”

Stiles twists around in his seat. “What does the bite look like?”

Erica holds out a bare wrist, and Derek glances back to see unmarred skin. “That was fast.”

Erica grins. “Yeah, and I skipped my medications this morning.”

“What are you going to tell your parents?” Stiles asks.

“Well, the most optimistic of my doctors have told them in the past that I might grow out of it,” Erica says cheerfully. “So, I’ll just let them think that those doctors were right, and I did.”

“It’s arguably true,” Stiles jokes. “You’ve definitely grown out of it, with a little bit of supernatural intervention.”

“Exactly,” Erica says, pointing at him. “And how did the magic lesson go, Doctor Strange?”

Stiles frowns at her. “Seriously? You’re comparing me to that asshole?”

“He’s hot,” Erica replies. “And you are kind of an asshole.”

Stiles snorts. “But not hot.”

“I never said that,” she replies with a teasing grin.

Stiles freezes, and then seems to focus on the part of that exchange that he can actually deal with. “You read comics?”

“They’re my speed,” Erica replies. “And I had a lot of time to read.”

“DC or Marvel?” Stiles asks.

“Don’t make me choose,” Erica counters.

“Batman or Superman?”

“Batman.”

Derek can’t quite follow their conversation after that. He’s never really been that interested in comics, and so he doesn’t know much about them, but it’s clear that both Erica and Stiles enjoy them, and Stiles is quite obviously delighted, and so is Erica.

They’re still going strong when Derek pulls up in front of the animal clinic, and Scott gets in, wearing scrubs. “Hey, guys. How are you feeling, Erica?”

Erica holds out her wrist. “Free and clear.”

“You look really nice,” Scott says sincerely.

“Erica has been comparing me to Doctor Strange,” Stiles says.

Scott screws up his face. “Well, if the shoe fits…”

“Rude!” Stiles replies, but he has a grin on his face.

They stop at the diner for a mountain of hamburgers and curly fries, and by the time they’re back at the Stilinski house, the sheriff’s vehicle is parked outside.

When they enter the house, the three teenagers joking with each other, Noah is sitting on the couch in the living room next to Isaac Lahey, who’s hunched over with the sheriff’s coat over his shoulders.

All three the kids go silent immediately.

“Dad?” Stiles says.

“Moira’s in the kitchen,” Noah replies. “Go get started, and we’ll be there momentarily.”

Derek puts the large, grease-stained paper bags on the kitchen counter, and Scott whispers, “What’s going on?”

“Dad got called out for a dead body,” Stiles whispers back. “But that’s Isaac Lahey.”

Scott frowns. “Oh, shit.”

Moira is, indeed, sipping a cup of tea. “Stiles, are you still feeling okay?”

“I feel great,” Stiles replies. “And even better at the promise of curly fries.” He gets a stack of paper plates out of the cupboard.

Moira smiles. “I’m glad to hear it. Introduce me to your friends.”

Stiles winces. “Sorry, that was rude. I forgot that you hadn’t met them yet. Scott, Erica, this is Moira. She’s going to teach me about magic.”

“Like I said, Doctor Strange,” Erica points out.

“Stiles isn’t nearly the pain in the ass that Stephen Strange was,” Moira says with a smile that says she knows what she’s doing with that conversational gambit.

All three teenagers stare at Moira, and then Stiles says, “Okay, DC or Marvel?”

“Why should I choose?” Moira asks. “I’m bi across the board.”

Erica laughs loudly, Scott goggles at her, and Stiles just looks delighted.

Noah ushers Isaac into the kitchen. “Guys, Isaac is going to be staying with us for at least a couple of days, okay?”

Derek suspects that if Stiles raised a huge issue with it, Noah might change his mind, but instead, Stiles says, “You hungry? We got enough for you, too. There are burgers and plenty of curly fries.”

Isaac nods hesitantly. “Thanks.” His voice is so soft and hesitant as to almost be a whisper.

Derek knows what it means that Noah had responded to a crime scene with a dead body and for Isaac to be here. It means that it’s his dad who died, and Noah’s reaction to Isaac suggests that he’s a victim of some sort.

Stiles seems to understand that instinctively as well.

Scott grabs a paper plate and hands it to Isaac. “Do you want ketchup? I’ll grab it.”

Isaac seems a little overwhelmed at the response. “Yeah, ketchup is good.”

Isaac takes a burger and some fries, but not nearly as much as what the others do, including Noah.

They sit down to eat, and Moira starts to ask random, light-hearted questions: favorite superhero, favorite movie, favorite dance move. She doesn’t try to draw Isaac out so much as she keeps a space open for him to join.

They’re debating the merits of Mario Kart versus Super Mario Brothers when Isaac says, “I prefer Super Mario Brothers.”

“Valid, but defend your point of view,” Stiles says.

That seems to knock Isaac out of his funk a little bit, because he says, “It’s more interesting than just going around a track. There are more environments, and I like the boss battles more.”

“Fair,” Scott agrees.

“But Mario Kart is a group endeavor,” Erica argues. “And, like, I’ve never been in a group contest before, but it seems like more fun.”

Derek doesn’t have much to contribute, so he eats his hamburger and curly fries, and then gets up and puts another burger and another pile of curly fries on Isaac’s plate.

Noah gives him a grateful look and nods.

Derek smiles, and he figures he’s going to be a good right hand.

~~~~~

Stiles knows that it’s about a done deal that Isaac is going to become a member of the pack, and he can’t even be mad about it. He wants to be, but the only time he’s ever seen his dad react this way to someone is if they’re a victim. His dad is treating Isaac like he’s fragile, and could shatter at any moment.

Isaac seems tentative, even after he warms up, and at one point his dad stands up and Isaac flinches away, even though his dad isn’t even looking at him.

Stiles glances at Scott, to see if he caught it, and Scott looks grim. Stiles knows that Scott has dealt with abused animals at the clinic.

After they’ve eaten, Moira says, “Stiles, can Isaac use your bed for a bit?”

Stiles suspects that she’s going to give Isaac the gift of a restful sleep. “Yeah, of course. I think Erica is going to stay the night anyway. We’ll probably bunk down in the living room.”

His dad raises his eyebrows as Moira ushers Isaac up the stairs. “Did you clear that with your parents?”

Erica nods. “I think they’re just happy that I’m having a couple of really good days, and that I’m making friends. You can call them if you want. I told them that you might.”

“Thanks, I will,” his dad responds, but there’s a note in his voice that suggests he’s not entirely happy with the situation. Stiles has no idea what’s up with her parents, but his dad’s opinion of them is lowering with each revelation.

Moira comes back downstairs after a few minutes, and says, “He’s sleeping. Now that we’ve refueled, I think we should go on a little field trip, Stiles.”

“What kind of field trip?” Stiles asks, curious.

“We’re going to get the lay of the land,” Moira replies. “Meanwhile, Derek can stay here and make sure your friends get their homework done.”

Stiles has no idea how she’d known that was going to be his objection. It’s not that he doesn’t want to learn magic, but he’d actually been looking forward to hanging out with Scott and Erica.

“Don’t worry, Doctor Strange,” Erica teases. “We won’t have too much fun without you.”

Derek gives Stiles a look. “They won’t be having fun. I’ll make sure they get their homework done.”

“But that means I’ll have to do my homework at some point,” Stiles mutters, but he doesn’t argue beyond that.

“Are you sure you don’t need an escort?” Noah asks. “I don’t like the idea of you going out without some backup with the Argents still in town.”

Moira smiles. “I can handle myself, but you can come with us if that would make you feel better.”

“It would,” Noah replies. “Derek?”

Derek just nods.

Before long, Stiles is sitting in the passenger seat of Moira’s rental car, a four-door Honda sedan that is so nondescript to draw no notice. Stiles is a little surprised when they start heading for the Preserve. “What—what are we doing?”

“Do you remember what it felt like to draw on the magic this morning?” Moira asks.

Stiles nods. “Yeah.”

“I’m going to see how sensitive you are to environmental magic,” Moira replies. “It will help me assess your strength and come up with a training plan.”

Stiles drums his fingers on his leg, which he’s bouncing even though he’s trying not to let on to his nerves. This morning had showed him that his magic could be controlled, so he’s feeling a little better. But now he’s worried that his magical abilities won’t be strong enough to really be much help.

“I know it doesn’t help, but please try to relax, Stiles,” Moira says. “Even a small gift can help the pack, as you’ve demonstrated by strengthening the pack bonds. If you had been training longer, I would have asked you to ease Isaac into sleep, but he needed to sleep without nightmares.”

Stiles nods. “I understand.”

He makes an effort to calm his nerves, and Moira parks on the edge of the Preserve. “We walk from here,” she says.

They start to walk into the Preserve, his dad following behind. A hundred yards into the Preserve, Stiles is focusing on how he’d felt while doing small magics with Moira, and he starts feeling a deep sense of uneasiness.

Finally, Stiles says, “Ugh. Why does it feel so gross?”

Moira shoots him an approving look. “Because there’s a corruption in the ley lines, lines of magical energy that run through the earth, sometimes called telluric currents. There are places where ley lines cross and connect, sometimes just two, sometimes more than that.”

Stiles stops and closes his eyes, and he feels a connection to the earth, a knowing that goes far beyond just being told something. “Beacon Hills has a higher than average number, doesn’t it? And not just lines, but connections between those lines.”

“Very good,” Moira says. “And?”

“There’s something corrupting the energy,” Stiles replies. “It feels sick.”

“Very good,” Moira says. “Can you find the place of the corruption?”

Stiles opens his eyes and grimaces. “Do I have to? I can’t begin to tell you how gross it feels.”

“Your connection is to the earth, Stiles,” Moira replies. “I can sense these things, but not the way you do. We cannot hope to protect Beacon Hills if we can’t root out the corruption.”

Stiles rubs his eyes, and he hears his dad ask, “Is this really necessary?”

“Yes, it is,” Moira insists. “Right now, the ley lines are calling all manner of creatures, and the dark energy is going to call creatures like feral omegas and worse. To heal a wound, you first have to stop the bleeding.”

Stiles falls to his knees on the forest floor and presses his palms to the ground. “Embrace the suck,” he mutters. “Got it. Gotta root out the corruption before we can move forward. Come on, earth. Tell me what you have for me.”

Stiles stumbles to his feet and opens his eyes, taking a deep breath. He knows the way, but he’s not looking forward to it. He knows it’s going to suck, because it’s going to feel gross, like being immersed himself in a black vat of rotting vegetation. Stiles doesn’t know how he knows that, but he does.

By the time he reaches the clearing, his stomach is roiling, and he falls to his knees and dry heaves, wanting to puke out the poison, but he knows the poison isn’t inside him.

Moira puts a cool hand on the back of his neck and tips his head up and back so that he’ll look at her, and then murmurs a few words in what sounds like Latin to Stiles’ unpracticed ears.

The nausea fades, and Stiles feels as though his senses have been blunted. “What did you do to me?”

“I gave you some distance, child,” Moira replies. “I’m sorry, Stiles. Had I known how strong your gift was, I would have prepared you better. You belong to the earth, which is why you were able to strengthen the pack bonds. That connection is very rooted in the area.”

Stiles shakes his head. “I don’t, I was able—please, stop. I want to feel it.”

Moira shakes her head. “I know you do, but it’s not wise. You’re too new to be able to protect yourself from this darkness, and it would use you, Stiles. I know it feels strange right now, and we just met, but you need to trust me on this. You’ll want to come back here and try to heal the damage, but you can’t.”

Stiles hates it, he hates feeling muffled, but he nods. Now that he’s past the shock of it being muffled, it feels like a warm blanket shutting out the rest of the world.

He still hates it, though, because it means acknowledging that there’s someone else who knows more than he does.

“Oh, young spark,” Moira says, and pats his cheek in a way that should feel condescending but doesn’t. “It will be okay.”

She glances up and says, “Someone cut down the Nemeton. We’ll need to find a way to regrow her. That will be your great work, Stiles. But that is for the future. If you promise to follow my direction, I will release you, and we’ll insulate the threat together.”

Stiles nods. “Promise.”

“Good boy,” Moira says, and offers him a hand up.

Stiles takes it, and then he takes a few deep breaths, the feeling of being muffled fading. He can still feel the corruption, but he has some distance from it now. “Yeah, I’m good. Dialed in.”

HIs dad moves in close to him. “You don’t have to do this, Stiles.”

Stiles shakes his head. “Dad, I think this is what I was meant to do. It’s weird, but I’m okay.”

“Tell me if you’re not,” his dad orders.

Stiles nods and straightens. “I’m good.”

He doesn’t stumble, but Moira puts a hand on his shoulder, and he can tell that the corruption is deep, and centered on something that’s buried inside the Nemeton.

“Yes, I have it,” Moira says. “I’m not sure what it is yet, but at least we now know to be wary.”

Stiles can tell that she’s rattled by whatever is inside the Nemeton, and so is he. It feels dark and malicious, and Stiles can sense it reaching for them.

Stiles has been frightened on and off for months now, but that’s nothing to the terror he feels at the idea of whatever it is getting out.

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

Moira shakes her head. “Whatever is inside the Nemeton is incredibly dangerous, but it’s contained right now. We’ll need to deal with it, but first we need to know what it is.”

“How do we find out what it is?” Stiles asks. “Without, you know, actually releasing it?”

“I’ll need to do some research into the area,” Moira admits. “And there are some tests and rituals we can do. But for now, let’s at least stop the bleeding.”

Stiles frowns. “How do we do that?”

“Eventually, with warding,” Moira says simply. “But it’s going to take some forethought and supplies that we don’t have with us at present. Right now, I’d like both of you to promise that you won’t try to approach the Nemeton without me.”

Stiles nods fervently. “I have no desire to mess with it.”

Noah grimaces, and Stiles figures that his dad doesn’t like leaving a threat alone, but he’s also looking at something that’s a little beyond his ken. It’s certainly not something that he can just shoot. “Yeah, I get it.”

Moira puts a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “If you’re not tired now, you will be shortly.”

Stiles shrugs. “I think I’m okay for right now. Maybe it’s the curly fries.”

“You’ll need more than curly fries as you continue to do magic,” Moira warns him. “A balanced diet is important, but curly fries can be part of that.”

Stiles has no problem with that. Unlike some, he has no issues eating his vegetables. “Sure. I’ll balance out the curly fries with stir fry tonight.”

His dad rubs a hand over Stiles head. “I’m probably going to need to go into the station, but it can wait until after dinner.”

“Is this about Isaac’s dad?” Stiles asks.

His dad nods. “It is. I need you to keep this under your hat, Stiles, but since Isaac is going to stay with us for a little while, you have a right to know.”

Stiles knows that when his dad uses that tone, he’s being deadly serious. “Yes, sir.”

“Mr. Lahey was attacked by some sort of creature that left large claw marks,” Noah says. “I didn’t get a scent of a wolf, or I would have assumed it was a werewolf, or if I didn’t know about werewolves, maybe a large knife.”

Stiles knows his dad well enough to know he’s very sure that Isaac wasn’t the one who killed his dad, and Stiles remembers the cut on Isaac’s cheek. “But you’re sure it wasn’t Isaac,” he comments as they hike back to the car.

“Considering that he was locked inside a chest freezer when we got there, I’m very sure,” his dad says grimly.

“Shit,” Stiles mutters, and he can’t imagine how awful that would be. He’d probably lose his mind.

“I’d chastise you for your language, but that about sums it up,” Noah says grimly. “So, no, Isaac didn’t have anything to do with it, and if I called social services, he’d probably wind up in juvenile detention.”

“You’re going to offer him a place in the pack, aren’t you?” Stiles asks.

His dad hesitates. “I might. He’s pretty vulnerable right now, and I don’t want to take advantage of him.”

“I think you should,” Stiles says. “He doesn’t have anyone else, does he?”

“He doesn’t,” his dad confirms. “But that doesn’t mean he’ll be a good fit with us, Stiles.”

Stiles shrugs. “We can give him a day or two to settle in, and then talk to him about it. That should give us all time to figure it out.”

His dad looks at him. “I’m proud of you, Stiles.”

Stiles frowns. “Why?”

“For being welcoming to someone who’s having a hard time,” his dad replies.

Stiles shrugs. “It’s what I would want if I were in his shoes, I guess. He’s had a hard enough time already.”

His dad nods. “He has, and until we figure out who’s behind the attack, I want you guys to use the buddy system, okay?”

Stiles nods. “Got it, Dad. I’m pretty sure we’re just going to hang out anyway.”

And that feels like a novelty in and of itself, but a good one.

 

---