Reading Time: 53 Minutes
Title: A Terrible War
Series: What We Gain
Series Order: 8
Author: enigmaticblue
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Genre: Angst, Drama, Family, Hurt/Comfort
Relationship(s): GEN
Content Rating: PG-13
Warnings: *No Mandatory Warnings Apply
Word Count: 85,187
Summary: The hunters finally make their play. Noah has to gather his allies. Derek has to hold on. Stiles—Stiles has to survive.
Artist: ringspells
“If we don’t end war, war will end us.” ~ H.G. Wells
Chapter 1
Noah doesn’t love that his kid is having vivid nightmares of the entire pack dying. He also doesn’t love that Lydia and Parrish are apparently sharing those nightmares, or that Lydia keeps getting the urge to scream around the pack.
Stiles knocks on the door of Noah’s room two days after the full moon, looking a little shame-faced. “I, um, might have texted Chris Argent, and he gave me some information. I should have told you this before.”
Noah knows how his kid’s brain works. “When did this happen?”
“Right after I healed Derek, and before I passed out,” Stiles admits. “I got the idea to contact him about who might be attacking us, and he said to tell you to call him, but he also gave us some info.”
Stiles hands his phone to Noah, and Noah reads the texts. “Huh. Well, I’ll certainly contact him, since he asked so nicely. Anything else you’re not telling me while we’re having a confessional?”
“Nothing you need to hear,” Stiles says quickly.
Noah raises his eyebrows, not above getting a little teasing in. “You and Lydia?”
“We’re being exceedingly careful,” Stiles assures him. “And we’re doing fine.”
“Good,” Noah replies, relenting. “Do you want to talk about your dream?”
Stiles sits in the chair across from the desk Noah has set up for his home office. “No more than I already have. Moira and I figured out that it was probably aerosolized wolfsbane, and that it could have similar effects on were-coyotes and kitsunes. Hell, wolfsbane can kill a human, too.”
“Don’t I know it,” Noah mutters, thinking about how Stiles looked after he pulled the wolfsbane into his own body while trying to heal Derek. “Does Moira have any other insights?”
Stiles shakes his head. “It’s too soon to tell. We’re going to keep using the scrying bowl and rune stones to see if we can get answers.”
Noah sighs, not loving that response, but expecting it. For all that magic has given Stiles, it rarely provides immediate answers, and often those answers are vague at best.
“All right,” he says. “I won’t tell you not to worry, but at least try. We already knew the hunters were out there, and we’re going to work the problem. I’ve asked Alana to see if anyone from her list of potential hunters is in the area, and I’ve asked Sheriff Morrison to be on the lookout, too. We have investigative avenues to go down besides magic.”
Stiles grimaces. “What does that even matter, Dad? Yes, Derek could have died, but there’s no evidence of the injury. And you can’t arrest someone for something they haven’t done yet.”
His kid has a valid point. Noah probably should have insisted that Derek go to the hospital for his injury, just for evidentiary purposes, but saving Derek’s life is obviously more important than making a case.
Knowing the hunters, they’ll make another move, and Noah will have to do his best to make charges stick when that happens.
“I realize that,” Noah admits. “But sooner or later, they’ll probably try again, and if they’re shooting at a member of this pack, most of us are authorized to shoot back.”
“But not everyone,” Stiles points out.
“No, not everyone,” Noah replies, thinking of the younger members. His desk has been set up near the French doors leading out to a small, stone patio. The bedroom is decorated in masculine blues and grays with white trim and light gray carpet.
He largely prefers to work at the station, but on days like today, when he wants to talk to Stiles and shield him from the scrutiny of others, it suits him to be here. He can glance over and see the trees, most of which are bare of leaves. Clouds are gathering, and Noah can sense a coming thunderstorm.
Stiles slumps even deeper into his chair, and he says, “I don’t know what to do, Dad.”
“I don’t think there’s anything we can do,” Noah admits heavily. “We’ll take precautions and keep a sharp eye out.”
Batman is sitting next to Stiles’ chair, and Stiles’ hand drifts down to rest on the dog’s head. “I think I know that,” Stiles finally admits. “Even if I hate it.”
“What are you doing the rest of the day?” Noah asks.
Stiles shrugs. “I don’t know. Moira and I are going to try to do a true seeing with Lydia and Parrish present, and part of the coven. Maybe that will help.”
Noah hesitates to ask, but he’s been trying to separate dealing with his deputy, Parrish, from dealing with the Hellhound, Cerberus. “Other than Lydia feeling an urge to scream, any information from that quarter?”
Stiles shakes his head. “No, but when we tried yesterday, Cerberus admitted that the destruction of a pack our size would be something he’d try to hide from the non-supernatural world.”
“Great,” Noah mutters.
Stiles shrugs. “At least you have another investigative string to pull with Chris Argent?”
“At least there’s that,” Noah admits. “Go on. I still have some work left to do. Who’s on dinner duty tonight?”
Stiles shrugs. “I was going to take it. I can’t do anything about this, but I can at least make food.”
“Let me know if you need help,” Noah replies. “I should be done around six.”
Stiles trudges out of Noah’s room, Batman on his heels, and Noah knows he has paperwork to get through. He also knows he’s not going to be able to focus on that paperwork until he at least puts in a call to Chris Argent.
He texts first, a quick, This is Noah Stilinski. Stiles told me he contacted you. If you have some time, I’d like to speak with you on the phone.
With that sent, Noah turns back to his budget reports and growls at the numbers. He needs to find some additional room, but the margins are way too thin.
And Noah needs to find more money for investigating the hunters. He can’t even ask Derek to pay for Alana’s services, because it would cast doubt on the provenance of the information. If the hunters are going to face human justice, Noah will have to make sure everything is as aboveboard as he can make it.
He doesn’t have long to wait for Argent’s response, though. It comes through fifteen minutes later and says I have an hour before my next appointment.
That’s a more generous time frame than Noah expects, so he calls immediately.
The first thing out of Argent’s mouth is, “To be honest, I wasn’t sure I’d be hearing from you. I didn’t know if Stiles would come clean.”
“He just came clean, but we’ve been a little busy, so I’m not holding it against him,” Noah replies.
“I don’t know who took the shot,” Argent says. “And I’ve been in touch with Araya Calavera, and she says she didn’t authorize the hit.”
Noah blinks. That’s certainly more than he thought he would get. “Did you know that Victoria was staying with the Calaveras at some point?”
“Oh, I knew the whole time,” Argent says grimly. “I’ve been helping Allison negotiate an alliance with them.”
Noah takes that in. He knows that he can’t treat Argent as a suspect, but more like a potential confidential informant, which means he has to romance him a bit. “What’s your read on Araya Calavera?”
“She’s willing to live and let live, assuming that you’re not giving succor to the Desert Wolf,” Argent replies.
Noah hums. “I’m sure you’ve probably seen the news about the attack on Malia Tate that ended tragically.”
There’s a pause. “A woman was killed.”
“She attacked Malia, so it was a good thing that one of my deputies was target shooting not far from her,” Noah says carefully.
“You haven’t released the identity of the woman yet,” Argent says, just as carefully.
“It should come out tomorrow,” Noah admits. “Corrine Winters, who was wanted in connection with a number of other crimes, including an assault with a deadly weapon in my jurisdiction shortly before.”
Argent makes a sound that might almost be a chuckle. “All right. I’ll let her know to keep an eye on the news coming out of Beacon Hills.”
“I know you weren’t behind the shooting, but if I gave you a few details, could you at least keep an eye out?” Noah asks.
“I can’t make any promises, Sheriff, but the letters that you and Stiles wrote for Allison were very helpful during sentencing,” Argent admits. “We both owe you.”
Noah takes a deep breath and considers what to share. It has to be enough information to be useful, but not so much that could be used to undermine the investigation—such as it is.
“The shooter was about 1200 yards away,” Noah begins. “It was a smaller caliber for a sniper rifle, a .223. They used yellow aconite, and hit Derek in the left flank,” Noah says. “It would have been a flesh wound but for the aconite, and there was no exit wound.”
“It wasn’t an experienced hunter,” Argent says quickly. “Even if they weren’t going for a kill shot, they would have used a larger caliber, one that would have punched a hole in the target.”
Dave reached much the same conclusions. “And the yellow wolfsbane?”
“It was a strain my dad favored,” Argent admits. “But it’s not rare. It’s not the most common, but it’s not hard to obtain.”
“Do you have any guesses?” Noah asks.
Argent sighs. “I have a guess, but that’s all it is, and I can’t offer to obtain evidence for you.”
“That’s fine,” Noah assures him. “I have my own resources.”
“My dad was mentoring a woman,” Argent admits. “Tamora Monroe. I don’t know how he found her, but he thought she had a lot of talent as a hunter.”
That is not an avenue Noah expected to go down. They’d been so busy researching the known hunter families, they hadn’t even considered that Gerard or Kate might have an unrelated student.
“You think it was her who might have taken the shot?” Noah asks.
Argent pauses. “No, not her. She followed my dad’s playbook pretty closely.”
He leaves unsaid that Gerard would have done a lot worse, and he would have made sure the target ended up dead.
“Right. I appreciate the information,” Noah finally says. “If there’s anything more you can tell me—”
“Sorry,” Argent says. “There isn’t, but I can promise that you aren’t going to have a problem from us or anyone allied with us.”
Noah doesn’t know if he trusts Argent, but he’s pretty far down Noah’s list of suspects. Not that he has a list of suspects.
“I appreciate that,” Noah finally says.
“Good luck, Sheriff,” Argent replies.
Noah hangs up and takes a deep breath, knowing that his next call needs to be to Alana. Now that they have a name, she can add Monroe to the list of people she’s investigating.
He finds her number in his contacts and calls, figuring he’ll leave a message if she doesn’t answer. Instead, she picks up on the second ring and says warmly, “Hi, Noah. What can I do for you?”
“I have another name for you,” Noah says. “Hot off the presses from Chris Argent himself.”
“I’ve run into a dead end here,” Alana admits. “So, a new thread to pull would be great.”
Noah says, “It turns out Gerard Argent had a student, Tamora Monroe. Chris said he didn’t know how the old man found her, but she follows his playbook pretty closely.”
Alana hums thoughtfully. “That’s a new name, and it raises a number of questions.”
“Frankly, it makes me wonder how many others there are out there,” Noah admits. “I’ve been so focused on the hunter families, I hadn’t considered whether Gerard might have been mentoring someone.”
“If that’s what you want to call it, since we’re basically talking about serial killers,” Alana replies wryly. “And we’ve researched what we knew or could reasonably find out. Now, we have a new name.”
Noah knows she’s right, and this is the way investigations often go. Sometimes, there’s a perpetrator you’d never expect. “I know. Do you mind looking into her? The department will pay the invoice.”
Noah will just have to find the money in the budget somehow.
“I always offer law enforcement a discount,” Alana replies. “At least the ones I like.”
He chuckles a bit at that. “Thanks.”
“I’ll be in touch as soon as I have something,” Alana promises. “Be careful, Noah. Stiles has a genuine gift.”
“You think his dream was prophetic?” Noah asks heavily.
Alana hesitates. “I think Stiles is uniquely attuned to the earth, especially when he’s within your territory, and there was a hunter on your territory.”
Noah is well aware that Stiles is gifted, but magic is one thing. Prophetic dreams are something else. “Well, shit.”
“Just—be careful,” Alana repeats.
“I’m planning on it,” Noah assures her. “Thanks for your help.”
“Any time,” she replies.
He puts his cell phone down and turns his chair so he can stare out into the backyard. If Stiles’ dream had been something more than just a nightmare, if he’d sensed the shape of the threat without quite realizing it, then they might face an airborne attack.
And how are they supposed to guard against that?
~~~~~
Derek pauses as he pulls his t-shirt on over his head, his eye caught by his own reflection in the mirror. He turns so he can see his left flank where the bullet had entered, but the skin is unmarred. All that pain, all that fear, the certainty that he was going to die, and it hadn’t even left a mark.
“Fucking hunters,” Derek mutters and jerks his shirt down, tucking it into his uniform pants. He pulls on his uniform shirt next and buttons it quickly, tucking that in as well.
He checks his reflection in the mirror, making sure everything looks right, then buckles on his belt. He grabs the olive-green coat from his closet as well, since the forecast is calling for rain. He might not feel the cold as much as a human, but Derek doesn’t like getting wet.
He finds Stiles in the kitchen with Batman, guzzling a can of Coke, The dark circles under his eyes hint at a sleepless night.
“You okay?” he asks.
“How is it that I can’t remember them, but I know I had nightmares all night?” Stiles asks, sounding unutterably weary. “Never mind.”
Derek doesn’t hesitate to pull him in to a hug. He doesn’t even think about it anymore. Stiles is a part of the pack, and he looks like he could use one.
Stiles sags against him, and Batman whines softly. “Are you sure you want to go to school today?”
“I’m not going to play hooky just because I’m fucking exhausted,” Stiles replies. “Because I need to finish my senior year, and as long as the hunters are a threat, I’m probably not going to be sleeping well.”
“For the record, I hate that,” Derek says.
“Yeah, me, too,” Stiles replies.
When he pulls back, Derek lets him go. “Maybe you shouldn’t drive.”
Stiles laughs. “Yeah, and who’s going to drive me?”
“Oh, ye of little faith,” Moira says as she enters the kitchen. “As it so happens, I agree with Derek. I’ll drive you and the girls in.” She’s holding a mason jar and hands it to Stiles. “Drink this on the way.”
Stiles holds it up to the light. “What is it?”
“An electrolyte beverage of my own creation,” Moira replies. “And it should give you a bit of a boost, enough to get through the day.”
Stiles shrugs. “I’ll take whatever help I can get.”
Cora and Malia enter the kitchen, and they each grab a breakfast bar from a basket on the counter.
“Good, let’s go,” Moira says. “Derek, be careful today.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Derek replies.
He doesn’t ask if she has a reason to be worried, because they all have a reason to be worried right now.
Derek follows them outside and locks the door behind him. He’s been back at the station for a couple of days now, after having a few days off to deal with his injury and the full moon. He pulls into his usual parking spot, but as soon as he enters, Tara calls out, “Hale, you’re with me today. We’re going on patrol.”
Derek doesn’t even get a chance to take his coat off, just following Tara out to her county vehicle. “How are you doing?” Tara asks as she cranks the engine.
Derek frowns. “How do you mean?”
“You were shot,” Tara points out. “And yes, I know you’ve recovered physically, but there are other aspects to consider.”
Derek rubs his left side. “There isn’t even a scar.”
“At least I have a scar,” Tara says ruefully. “To be honest, some days it’s a relief because at least I can look back and say that it left a mark on something other than—I guess you’d say my psyche.”
Derek sighs. “Yeah, I understand that.”
“So?” Tara prompts. “How are you?”
Derek shakes his head. “Worried. Mostly about Stiles. And also wondering why they targeted me.”
“Maybe they knew what losing you would do to the pack,” Tara replies. “You’re important for more than one reason. Speaking as one right hand to another.”
Derek wonders sometimes about how Noah keeps everything straight in his head. There’s the station pack, the home pack, the coven, all these disparate parts that Noah seems to handle with aplomb.
“They’re going to come at us,” Derek finally says. “And that was just the opening salvo.”
Tara hums. “Tell me what you’re thinking, Derek, because you have a good head on your shoulders when you use it.”
Derek feels around the worry that’s been gnawing at the back of his mind over the last few days. “Either they were a shitty sniper, or they did exactly what they planned on doing.”
“And what was that?” Tara asks. “Do you think they were trying to maim, rather than kill?”
“I would have died if it hadn’t been for Stiles,” Derek says. “And we all know that what Stiles was able to do is pretty remarkable.”
Tara makes a small, shocked sound. “You think they were testing the waters, to see if Stiles could heal you?”
“I don’t know,” Derek replies. “But yeah, that’s one of my worries. We don’t talk about what Stiles can do, and for good reason, but that always meant Stiles is the pack’s ace in the hole.”
“And you think we just revealed his abilities,” Tara comments. “I don’t even know that you’re wrong, but so what? It’s not as though Stiles could have done anything else.”
Derek sighs. “No, I know that, but it maybe gives them a weapon that they didn’t have before. Maybe the next time they come at us, it’s not with a sniper’s bullet, but something we can’t fight off.”
Tara drums her fingers against the steering wheel, and she finally says, “I hear you. What do you want to do about it?”
Derek really thinks about the question, but he doesn’t have an answer. If the hunters come for Stiles, if they figure out how to disable a spark, what can the rest of them do?
“I don’t think there’s anything we can do,” he admits. “But it helps to say it out loud, I guess.”
“Have you spoken to Noah or Moira about it? Or even Dave and Paul?” Tara asks.
Derek shakes his head. “No, mostly because I hadn’t really been able to put it into words until just now.”
“Talk to the Sheriff after your shift today,” Tara urges him. “Maybe there isn’t anything we can do, but he should know about your concerns.”
Derek nods. “I will. Thank you for asking the question.”
“You know, I didn’t really want to get roped into dealing with a bunch of kids,” Tara comments. “I chose not to have them for a reason. Yet here we are.”
Derek laughs at that. “I’m pretty sure the Sheriff wasn’t planning on this either.”
“No, but he didn’t try and keep his distance, and he could have,” Tara comments. “But I think we’re all glad that he was willing to step up. The town is certainly safer.”
Patrol is relatively uneventful that day, with just a few traffic tickets, at least right up until the end of his shift. At that point, Maria calls them over the radio and says, “We have a report of a foul odor coming from a house on Delancey Street,” she says. “The neighbors asked us to do a wellness check.”
Tara signals a left turn with a nod towards Derek, who is the one to respond. “Copy that, Maria. We’re on our way.”
“Be careful,” Maria says in reply.
The address leads them to a nice, normal house on a nice, normal street. There’s absolutely nothing remarkable about it other than the smell, which hits them as soon as they get out of the vehicle.
Tara swears bitterly. “Oh, fuck. There’s only one thing that could be. Keep your weapon loose, just in case someone is still around.”
Derek does as she asks, unsnapping the safety loop on his service weapon. He wants badly to put a hand over his nose, but it would be a futile gesture. He already knows that he’s not going to be able to get that odor out of his nose even after a hundred showers.
Tara knocks on the door with three hard pounds of her fist. “Beacon Hills Sheriff! We’re here to do a wellness check!”
There’s no answer, and Tara tries the doorknob. The door swings open without resistance, and she leads the way inside. The odor of rotting flesh intensifies, and they don’t have to go far to find what they’re looking for.
A middle-aged couple is sitting in the living room just off the front door, both of them with their throats torn out. Decay has set in, the bodies beginning to bloat, although it’s hard to say how long ago they’d died.
His stomach turns over, and Derek controls the urge to vomit with some effort.
“Head outside and call it in,” Tara orders.
Derek grimaces. “Tara—”
“Go outside and call it in,” she says again. “Keep the front door secure. Can you hear anyone else inside the house?”
Now that she’s asked the question, Derek realizes that there are no heartbeats other than their own. He won’t be leaving her alone inside with no back up. “No.”
“No sense in both of us wanting to lose our lunches,” Tara says. “And I’m the senior deputy.”
Derek gives in, feeling wordlessly grateful for her rough care. Even though he can still smell the decomposition outside, it’s far less concentrated.
“Maria, this is Deputy Hale,” he says after activating his radio. “We have a 10-55. We’re going to need the ME and a response team to the address you provided.”
“Copy that, Deputy Hale,” Maria replies, her tone grim. “Anyone else on scene other than you and Deputy Graeme?”
“Negative,” Derek says. “Not sure what the time frame is, but likely days.”
“I’ll dispatch another unit and the ME to your location,” Maria says briskly. “Sorry, but it’s probably going to be a long afternoon for you.”
“Copy that,” Derek replies, wishing there was somewhere he could go for fresher air. That would mean moving farther away than procedure allows, though, so he just grabs the yellow tape from the patrol car. At least he can make sure the scene is secured.
Derek isn’t surprised when Noah is the one to show up, although he’s followed closely by Mark. Two murders—suspected murders, anyway—is a big enough issue to require senior people on the scene.
Noah’s nose wrinkles as he gets out of his vehicle. “Well, that’s definitely decomp.”
“Even I can smell it,” Mark comments as he joins them. “Dr. Kelly should be on the way. I can go in and take over from Tara since I don’t have her nose.”
Derek shrugs. “She sent me out here, said she was the senior deputy.”
Mark claps him on the shoulder. “There’s time enough to inure yourself to that smell, if that’s even possible.”
“I’ll go in and check on her,” Noah counters. “I’d like to get a look at the scene for myself.”
“Then we’re out here,” Mark says. “Why don’t you grab the camera and start shooting the outside of the house, rookie?”
Derek doesn’t argue. He’s getting better at using the camera, and the department has a digital one, so it’s really just a matter of over-documenting the scene to make sure he captures all the details.
He’s photographing the areas under the windows for any sign of a break in when Dr. Kelly arrives with the van and a gurney.
“Deputy Hale.” Dr. Kelly greets him genially. “Maria said there were two bodies?”
Derek nods. “It looks like they’ve been in there a while.”
“I was kind of getting used to not having any murders,” Kelly mutters.
Mark is busy checking for prints around the door handle, so he opens the door for Dr. Kelly with a gloved hand. “Go on in, doc.”
“Appreciate it, Rossi,” Kelly replies. “How are Maggie and the kids?”
“They’re great,” Mark replies. “And Jenny and Drew?”
Kelly smiles. “Still putting up with me.”
Derek makes a mental note of the names. He’s watched how people respond when Noah and the other deputies remember names and relationships. It makes a difference.
And Derek can admit that he likes the difference it makes.
He goes around the entire perimeter of the house and finds no sign of a break-in, which means the murderer either knew the couple or lived in the house.
And that someone had likely been a werewolf, or other were, based on the type of injuries to their throats.
Derek packs the camera away and leans against the car as Kelly brings out the first body in a black bag. There’s apparently room in the van for both bodies, since Kelly soon has the other one loaded up.
Tara emerges after the second one and joins Derek. “Noah is sending us back to the station to write our reports and log the evidence.”
Derek nods. “Did they find anything inside?”
“Evidence that Theo Raeken lived here,” Tara replies. “I don’t know that they were actually his parents, but our preliminary review of the scene suggests they were at least posing as such.”
Derek thinks about the kid who attacked Stiles outside Tracy’s house, complaining that the Dread Doctors hadn’t been able to finish the job.
“Well, hell,” Derek mutters. “It looked as though they had their throats torn out.”
“He might not be a werewolf, but he has the teeth and claws of one, based on what the Sheriff said,” Tara replies. “And he’s all of sixteen, too.”
Derek grimaces. “You know a prison cell won’t hold him.”
“We’ll call that a problem for another time,” Tara replies. “We’re going to have to find him first.”
“True,” Derek says. “I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
~~~~~
Stiles doesn’t think he’s had a decent night’s sleep since before the full moon, and he doesn’t see that changing. Moira pulls up in front of the school and says, “Try to have a good day.”
“I’ll try,” Stiles promises.
“We’ll do what we can to make sure of it,” Cora says.
Stiles hands the mason jar back to Moira. “Whatever you put in it, it was delicious.”
“Thank you, mo chroi,” Moira replies.
Stiles grabs Batman’s leash from Malia, since his dog had been sitting in the backseat between the girls. Scott and Kira are waiting for them on the steps, and Scott frowns. “Dude, you look like you’re about to pass out.”
“I’m fine,” Stiles says. “Well, not fine, since I’m exhausted, but I’m not sleeping. Even when I don’t know I’m having nightmares, I’m pretty sure I am.”
Scott slings an arm around Stiles’ shoulders. “Just let us know what we can do. You got me through sophomore year, and we’ll get you through this one.”
Stiles appreciates that show of support. “Thanks, Scotty.”
“Don’t mention it,” Scott replies.
Kira loops her arm through Scott’s free one. “I have faith,” she announces. “And you can always ask my mom for help. She’s warming up to the idea of being connected to a werewolf pack.”
Stiles grimaces. “Well, based on Satomi’s willingness to let my dad solve her problems for her and offer nothing in return, I can’t exactly blame your mom.”
Kira laughs at that. “Mom said Satomi was kind of an acquired taste.”
“I’m sure the members of her pack love her,” Scott says hopefully.
“You’d probably love her,” Kira says fondly. “You see the best in everyone.”
Danny meets them just inside the front doors, and he says, “Hey, Stiles. Tutu made something for you. It’s from our folkways, and she thought it might help you sleep.”
“If your tutu can do that for me, I’ll kiss her feet,” Stiles says fervently.
Danny laughs. “I don’t think she’d ask for that, but she wants to help, and her affinity is for the earth, too.”
“I have judo after school, but I can swing by before that,” Stiles offers.
Danny gives him a look. “Are you sure you’re not going to get your ass handed to you?”
“I’m not sure of that at all, but I also know what Sensei OB will say if I miss another class,” Stiles replies. “Besides, if I can do well when I feel like ass, I can probably take care of myself any other time.”
Danny shakes his head. “I guess Moira can patch you up.”
Boyd, Isaac, and Erica also give Stiles concerned looks when they see him, although they don’t say anything. Maybe they figure everyone else has said it already.
Lydia just sighs and gives him a peck on the lips when she sees him. “I hope whatever Noelani has cooked up helps.”
Stiles is tired all day, but whatever Moira gave him does seem to provide enough energy to at least get through his classes. He keeps an eye out for Theo, but there’s no sign of him, and Stiles isn’t sure whether that’s a good thing or not.
His instincts tell him that Theo is going to be a problem, maybe a big one, and they already have enough of those. Stiles would rather be able to see the threat coming.
After school, Isaac and Boyd offer to drive Cora and Malia when Moira comes to pick him up. “Get some rest, Stiles,” Boyd urges.
“Let me know if you want me to come over later,” Lydia says. “If it will help.”
“Thanks,” Stiles says. “I’ll text you.”
As Stiles puts Batman into the backseat of Moira’s Prius, she says, “I grabbed your gi from the laundry room, just to save a trip.”
Stiles sends her a grateful smile. He sometimes wonders if this is what it would be like to have a really cool grandma, or maybe an aunt. “Thanks.”
“You have a hard enough road to walk as it is, young spark,” Moira says wryly. “Whatever I can do to help you, I will.”
“I’m worried about Theo,” Stiles admits in a rush.
Moira hums under her breath. “What’s worrying you about him?”
“He was clearly part of the Doctors’ plans, but now the Doctors are gone,” Stiles says slowly. “What if Theo could still manage to pull it off, whatever ‘it’ is?”
“Well, I don’t think Theo would be able to resurrect the Beast of Gavaudin,” Moira says. “But creating other chimeras? Or taking revenge? A motivated young man with the teeth and claws of a werewolf could do a great deal of damage.”
Stiles lets out a breath. “Yeah, that’s it exactly, and based on his attempts to make us look bad to Liam, I think he wants revenge, even if he doesn’t know how to get it.”
“Put a pin in that,” Moira suggests. “Let’s acknowledge that Theo could be a pain in our collective asses, and also that you could theoretically take him out the same way you took out the Darach.”
Stiles feels a sense of relief at that. “I just—can’t take on a werewolf.”
“You can,” Moira assures him. “But perhaps not in the moment when they’re tackling you out of nowhere. That’s what judo and krav maga are for, to help you get the space you need to use your magic.”
“Right,” Stiles says. “That’s kind of what I needed to hear.”
Moira gives him a little smirk. “And what your magic can’t take care of, I’m sure Dave will handle with his sniper rifle.”
Stiles laughs at that. “He really does love that gun.”
“Most people love the tools they’re really good at using,” Moira jokes as she pulls up in front of the Mahealanis’ house.
“I guess that could explain it,” Stiles replies.
When they reach the front door, it swings open before either of them can knock. Noelani takes one look at him and says, “Oh, my dear. Come in, and let’s see if we can do something to ease you.”
She puts her arm around his shoulders and draws him inside. They head through the house and into the backyard.
“I think you need to feel the earth today,” Noelani says. “Perhaps if you can do that, you can start to filter out the true warnings from the false echoes.”
That’s a good way of describing how Stiles has been feeling since his initial nightmare. He can’t remember his dreams from the last couple of nights, but he knows his sleep hasn’t been restful. Not like he’s been getting warnings, but like he’s feeling the echo of the warning he already got.
“That’s it exactly,” Stiles admits. “I just couldn’t put it into words.”
“Let’s sit,” Noelani says, as they take their seats in the circle. “Moira and I have both been in places where the echoes of the past are louder than they ought to be.”
Moira sighs audibly. “You’ve always been more sensitive than I am. It’s a quirk of our affinities.”
Stiles nods slowly. “Because water washes things away, and earth retains.”
“There are things that water will hold,” Moira replies. “But you’re not wrong.”
“Those of us with an affinity for the earth are sometimes called to cleanse it,” Noelani says gently. “And with the strength of your gift, it may become your calling as well. That gift can swallow us up if we cannot filter out the echoes that do not serve us.”
Stiles nods. “I understand.”
“Unfortunately, time is the only teacher I know, so we’ll rely on a crutch,” Noelani says. “I’ll key the talisman to your signature, and you’ll wear it when you sleep. You may want to try sleeping without it every few days, just to see if you get a true warning instead of echoes.”
Stiles nods. “I understand.”
“Hold out your hand, Miecylaw,” Noelani says.
Stiles does as she asks, and she drops a round, wooden object in his hand. “It can go on the same chain as the charm Moira gave you. Close your eyes, and feel the embrace of the earth. It will offer you comfort, even as it seeks to warn you of danger.”
He follows her instructions, holding the talisman in his hand and closing his eyes. Noelani starts singing in Hawaiian, and Stiles lets the sound and the words wash over him. He doesn’t understand the language, but he can feel what Noelani refers to as the embrace of the earth.
Stiles can feel when the talisman aligns with his magical signature, like a key fitting into a lock. He can almost feel the click as Noelani’s song trails off.
He opens his eyes, and Noelani is smiling at him gently. “How do you feel?”
“I could feel the earth’s embrace,” Stiles admits. “Thank you.”
“If that doesn’t work, you let us know,” Noelani says. “We can try something else.”
Stiles nods. “I will.”
“Come on,” Moira says. “You don’t want to be late.”
Noelani gets to her feet with enviable grace and pulls Stiles into a hug. “Feel free to change in the bathroom up here, Stiles.”
“Thanks,” Stiles replies. “I really appreciate it.”
Moira pulls out a book when she parks in front of the dojo, and Stiles glances at her. “Not that I don’t appreciate everything you’re doing, but is there something I should know? Because you’re sticking awfully close.”
“Let’s just say that I have some concerns, and I know that you’re not at your best right now,” Moira replies. “But I don’t want you to worry.”
Stiles snorts. “Too late for that, Moira.”
She pats his knee. “I don’t want you to worry about something that might not even be an issue, let’s say.”
Stiles has an idea that he might be able to figure out what concerns her if he weren’t so fucking exhausted, but he also has judo. Maybe he’ll get his ass handed to him, but judo is a chance to get out of his head for an hour, and he needs that badly.
“All right,” Stiles says. “Thanks for looking out for me.”
“Thank you for being a good sport about it,” Moira counters.
Stiles collects Batman from the backseat and heads inside.
Sensei OB takes one look at him and says, “You’ll be with me today, Stiles.”
Stiles winces a bit and nods. “Yes, Sensei.”
He goes through the calisthenics and stretches they always start class with, and then Sensei OB calls Stiles to the front to demonstrate some of the advanced techniques.
Stiles sees Becky, but by using Stiles to demonstrate, Sensei OB neatly prevents her from approaching him. Stiles is grateful, because he’s not sure he has the resources to put her off right now.
When class ends, Sensei OB asks, “Do you have a little time, Stiles?”
His voice is gentler than usual, but Stiles figures that shouldn’t surprise him. Everyone has been acting like he’s fragile the last few days, even more than after he’d been kidnapped.
Then again, Stiles owns a mirror, and he knows just how drained he looks.
“Moira is waiting for me, but yeah, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind waiting a few more minutes,” Stiles replies.
“Come on back to my office,” Sensei OB says.
Stiles has been in the Sensei’s office a few times now, mostly to talk about his progress, upcoming tests, and competitions. There’s a small desk, which is neat as a pin, as well as a metal filing cabinet and a couple of chairs.
He takes a seat in one of the chairs, resting a hand on the top of Batman’s head to ground himself. Stiles is tired enough that he can’t quite bring up his usual smart-ass comment. “What can I do for you, Sensei?”
“You look like something the cat dragged in,” Sensei OB says bluntly. “Are you having trouble at home? At school?”
Stiles blows out a breath, considering how he wants to explain his life. “I’ve been having nightmares, bad ones. Pretty much constantly.”
“I get that,” Sensei OB says, and his tone suggests that he really does. “But there’s more than that going on. This have anything to do with the pack?”
Stiles frowns. “What?”
Sensei OB waves his hand. “Don’t bother denying or confirming. I’m sure your dad has warned you against spilling the beans to an outsider, and I don’t like being lied to.”
“Where does that leave us?” Stiles asks.
“Do you have people who are helping you?” Sensei OB asks.
Stiles nods. “Yeah, I do, and my dad’s aware and is doing everything he can.” He pauses, then asks, “Just hypothetically, if I were able to confirm, how did you know?”
Sensei OB snorts. “Well, hell, son, I went to high school with a few Hales. I figure if a person grows up in Beacon Hills, or if you live here long enough, you either figure a few things out and accept them, or you embrace willful ignorance.”
Stiles has to laugh at that. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“If I thought my advice wasn’t coming too late, I’d have told you not to get mixed up in it,” Sensei OB admits. “But I figure that’s part of what brought you here in the first place, and what keeps driving you to get better.”
“You’d be right about that,” Stiles admits.
“Be careful with yourself, Stiles,” he replies. “I know you’ve got good people in your corner, but that world can easily swallow you whole.”
Stiles nods. “I know.”
Sensei OB smiles. “Well, then I’ve done my part, but—and I might be overstepping—Becky’s been coming to several classes per week, and she’s been asking questions about things I’d consider none of her business.”
“Thanks for the heads up, Sensei,” Stiles says. “I appreciate it.”
“Go on, and make sure you get some rest,” Sensei OB replies. “Take care of yourself.”
“Yes, sir,” Stiles replies.
Moira is waiting for him when Stiles comes out, and she tucks her book away as he puts Batman in the back of the Prius. “What did Sensei OB want to talk to you about?”
“He wanted to make sure I was okay, and asked about the pack,” Stiles says wryly. “Did you know he went to high school with a few Hales? He didn’t really say which ones.”
Moira snorts. “I knew he was a canny one. Did he press you?”
Stiles shakes his head. “No, he was actually really nice about it. He did say that if a person grows up in Beacon Hills, they either accept the weirdness or embrace willful ignorance.”
Moira nods and laughs a bit. “I can’t say that he’s wrong.” She shakes her head. “Well, I have a message from Scott saying that the pack is sticking close, so they’re going to take care of dinner tonight after practice. Before you ask, I have no idea what they’re planning.”
Stiles leans against the passenger door. “Scott’s really been stepping up.”
“He’s made his decision,” Moira comments. “Before, he was struggling to decide whether he wanted to grow roots or spread his wings, and now he knows that he can do both within the safety of the pack.”
“My dad’s good at that, isn’t he?” Stiles muses.
“Your father has certainly found his place in the world,” Moira agrees. “It’s quite possible that he was always meant to be an Alpha. He wanted to be the Sheriff for a reason, after all.”
Stiles nods. “I guess I hadn’t really thought of it that way, but yeah. Dad does like to be in charge.”
“He’s not doing too bad getting out of the way either,” Moira teases.
Stiles laughs at that. “I think that’s mostly because he knows he can’t really compete with your expertise when it comes to magic.”
“Or your skills,” Moira points out. “How do you feel?”
“I don’t know,” Stiles admits. “Still tired, but it was good to get out of my head for a while, and it’s nice to know that Sensei OB has a certain level of knowledge.”
Moira gives him a look. “I think that, sometimes, when a person is forced to grow up quickly, it can be difficult to trust the adults in our lives to look out for us.”
Stiles knows that she speaks from experience. She’s shared enough about her own past for Stiles to know that she’d been on her own for a long time. “Yeah.”
“Just remember to let us look after you a bit, Stiles,” Moira says. “You’re so good at looking after the rest of the pack.”
Emotion wells up, and Batman whines in the backseat. “We’re okay, buddy,” Stiles manages to get out. “I’m okay.”
“You certainly will be,” Moira promises as she pulls up in front of the house. “Shall we go see what sort of a mess they’re making?”
Stiles nods, even as he pulls out his phone to let Lydia know that the pack is gathering and she’s welcome to be there. “Yeah, let’s go see.”
When they walk through the front door, there’s a bit of commotion coming from the kitchen. “Everything is under control, I promise!” Scott calls.
Stiles shares a concerned look with Moira, and they head that direction. “Hey, Stiles!” Kira chirps. “We put Boyd and Danny on the grill, since they’re the most responsible ones.”
Stiles laughs at that. “Scott, I thought you were responsible.”
Scott also laughs, but he says, “Hey, I got everything organized, and then I delegated.”
“The mark of a true boss,” Moira teases. “What’s on the grill?”
“We got hot dogs and pre-made burger patties,” Scott confesses. “And salads from the deli, but we all had cross country after school.”
“You did good, dude,” Stiles says. “As long as Danny and Boyd don’t burn the dogs or the burgers, we’ll be fine.”
Cora snorts. “Erica is keeping an eye on them, and you know she’ll keep them on track.”
“I brought cookies,” Isaac offers.
Stiles stares at him. “Did you buy them or bake them?”
“I—might have discovered stress baking,” Isaac admits. “I made them last night after Dave and Paul left for work, or there probably wouldn’t be any left.”
“We’ll save a few for you to stash in the freezer,” Stiles replies. “Dave needs his cookies.”
Isaac snorts. “Paul is the cookie monster. Dave typically goes for ice cream.”
“That still going okay?” Stiles asks.
Isaac smiles, somewhat shyly. “It’s like—I don’t know. It’s like living with Cameron if he’d been a decent brother, but there are two of them.”
“That’s great,” Stiles says. “I’m glad they’re treating you right.”
“Better than that,” Isaac admits. “When your dad said I could be in the pack, I didn’t think it would feel like this.”
“In a good way?” Stiles asks.
Isaac gives him a look. “Do you even have to ask?”
Stiles has been able to feel his and Boyd’s contentment through the pack bonds, so he just says, “Sometimes you need verbal confirmation, and not just for me, but for yourself.”
Isaac shakes his head. “If the law enforcement thing doesn’t work out for you, maybe you should think of doing therapy.”
“I’ve had enough of it,” Stiles jokes.
“Yeah, but in a good way,” Isaac says after a moment. “I still miss my family, but if I have to do without them, this is pretty great.”
“Same,” Stiles replies and offers a fist bump, which Isaac returns. “I’m going to go get cleaned up real quick.”
Stiles grabs a quick shower and changes into joggers and a hoodie. He’s just coming down the stairs when Erica opens the back door. “Dogs and burgers, only very slightly charred, coming up!”
The front door opens at the same time, and Lydia calls, “I hope I’m not too late!”
“We’re just getting ready to eat,” Stiles calls.
Lydia gives him a once over as she comes into the kitchen. “You look slightly better, and I feel marginally less like screaming.”
Stiles blinks. He does love her bluntness, but wow. “Okay. Thanks?”
“It’s not a compulsion, Stiles,” Lydia replies. “It’s just—a vibration, like death might be just around the corner. Sioned taught me how to pay attention to those sorts of things this summer.”
Stiles grimaces. “Did she teach you how to figure out what was going to cause the deaths?”
“I know as much as you do,” Lydia replies. “We saw the same thing.”
“Do banshees get visions of the future ordinarily?” Kira asks.
Lydia shrugs. “I believe my grandmother did, and some others do. I think the vision from the other night was at least partially due to Stiles and Parrish’s presence.”
Stiles hands Lydia a paper plate and says, “Help yourself.”
They fill their plates and sit around the dining room table. Stiles checks his cell phone for any messages and sees a text from his dad, which must have come in while he was in the shower.
Caught a case, and I’ll probably be late. Don’t wait up.
Stiles grimaces, wondering if the case has anything to do with the hunters. Or the Dread Doctors. Or Theo Raeken. Or some other enemy that Stiles hasn’t even considered.
Lydia puts her hand on his leg under the table and squeezes gently. “I didn’t have the urge to scream today, remember?”
Stiles takes a deep breath. “When do you think?”
Lydia shakes her head. “There’s been a lot going on. I couldn’t guess. Isn’t it best to put it out of your mind for right now?”
“Yeah, yeah, it is,” Stiles agrees.
“Do you want me to stay the night?” Lydia asks. “I told my mom that I might not be home.”
Stiles hesitates. “I don’t know. Noelani gave me a talisman that’s supposed to help me sleep.” He glances at Moira. “What do you think?”
“Maybe sleep alone tonight, young spark,” Moira replies. “If it doesn’t work, we’ll know we need to make adjustments.”
Lydia just pats his leg and withdraws her hand. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
Scott and Boyd have gone back for seconds, and the other werewolves look like they’re thinking about it, when Derek comes in. He looks tired, but he seems to perk up a bit at the sight and smell of food.
“Is there enough for me to have a plate?” Derek asks.
“Yeah, of course,” Isaac says readily. “More than enough. I’ll put one aside for you if you want to get changed. Or are you going to have to go back in?”
Derek shakes his head. “No, I’m home for the night, barring any emergencies, and even then, I don’t think Noah wants to pay for overtime unless he has to.”
Isaac starts to fill a plate, and those who had been eyeing seconds settle back down, clearly willing to wait to make sure Derek has enough to eat first.
Derek returns in sleep pants and a t-shirt, and Stiles figures that whatever scene his dad was still on, Derek had probably been there, too. He also knows better than to ask at this point, because Derek’s a stickler for procedure.
“Thanks for this,” Derek says as he starts to dig in. “Everyone.”
“Rough day?” Erica asks sympathetically.
Derek glances up to look at Scott. “Have you seen Theo Raeken recently?”
Scott frowns. “Right before the full moon is the last time, I think, but I haven’t been looking. Stiles said Theo attacked him, so we don’t like him.”
A hint of a smile lights Derek’s face. “Just that easy, huh?”
“I’ve figured out my priorities,” Scott replies. “Why do you ask? Did he have something to do with the thing today?”
Derek sighs. “I don’t know, but we found some evidence that Theo was staying at the house with the two bodies we found. It looked like their throats were torn out.”
“Theo has teeth and claws,” Stiles comments. “How long had they been dead?”
Derek shrugs. “Dr. Kelly will give us a time frame once he does the autopsies, but it had been days most likely.”
Stiles frowns, drumming his fingers on the table. “So, maybe after we took out the Doctors?”
Derek shrugs, chewing and swallowing the bite of his hot dog. “Maybe. It was—pretty bad.”
“It can be difficult to figure out time of death when there’s an advanced state of decomposition,” Moira says. “And please don’t ask me how I know that.”
Scott’s nose wrinkles in disgust, but he asks, “Do you think the Sheriff will want dinner?”
Derek shakes his head. “I doubt it.”
“All right, let’s put the leftovers away, unless anybody wants more,” Scott says. “And then we can get started on homework. I really need to figure out AP Bio.”
Kira leans into him. “We’re going to get through it together.”
“I’ll start working on that,” Stiles says. “You guys start on homework, since you were the ones who cooked and organized dinner.”
“I’ll help,” Moira offers.
“I basically did nothing but show up, so I’ll help, too,” Danny says with a grin.
There isn’t much to do, really. The leftover buns and deli salads can stay in their containers, and there are a few burgers and hot dogs that need to be put away. They make quick work of it, and then they all grab what they need in order to do their homework and join the others at the table.
Derek is done with his coursework, but he grabs a book he’s reading and sits with them, propping his feet on the side of the chair Erica is sitting in.
Stiles has no idea how they’d known that this was exactly what he needed, but it is. Having his pack around him, warm and breathing, the bonds humming with contentment and love, helps Stiles settle a bit.
And maybe he just needs to prioritize spending as much time with the pack as he can. Even without the existential threats, they do have limited time. They’ll be going off to college not too long from now; they might as well spend as much time as they can together.
~~~~~
Noah finally heads home around midnight, knowing he can’t wait around for the autopsy. Hell, the autopsies probably won’t be done for a couple of days, and there isn’t a rush. The method and means of death were pretty clear.
Of course, Kelly’s report will probably state that the weapon is unknown, but Noah already has an idea of what needs to happen.
A prison isn’t going to hold Theo, and while Noah doesn’t want to be judge, jury, and executioner, he isn’t sure who else would be responsible for ending the threat.
Hell, they can’t even be certain whether the two people are Theo’s biological parents until the autopsies are complete.
Noah sees Moira’s Prius and Roscoe parked out front, along with Derek’s Camaro, but it doesn’t appear that anyone else has stayed over. He lets himself inside and heads upstairs first, wanting to check on Stiles.
He finds his son starfished on his bed, Batman asleep next to him, head resting on the small of Stiles’ back. Stiles doesn’t so much as stir, but Batman raises his head and whuffs at Noah as though in reassurance.
“Thanks for looking after him,” Noah whispers.
Batman just puts his head back down, and Stiles doesn’t even twitch.
Derek’s door opens and he pokes his head out. “How did the rest of it go?”
“Come downstairs,” Noah replies. “I don’t want to risk waking Stiles.”
Derek doesn’t argue, following him downstairs. Noah can tell that the only people at home are Derek, Stiles, Cora and Malia. He would normally put his gun in the safe right away, but he’s going to bed soon enough.
He pours a couple of fingers of whiskey even though it’s not going to help him sleep.
“Do you want a drink?” Noah asks.
Derek shakes his head. “No, it doesn’t do anything for me.”
“Me neither at this point, but I suppose it did enough for long enough that there’s a placebo effect,” Noah admits. “And it’s not going to kill me, and there’s no way I’m going to crawl into a bottle.”
Derek chuckles. “I don’t think there’s a bottle that big in the world.”
“Perhaps not,” Noah agrees. “But in any case, what did you want to talk about?”
“Was it Theo?” Derek asks bluntly. “I’m sorry, but I warned off everyone in the pack just in case.”
Noah shakes his head. “No, you were right to do so, especially Scott. I love that kid, and he’s come a long way, but—”
“Tonight, he said Theo attacked Stiles, so we don’t like him,” Derek says with a smile. “I think he’s made his choice, but I wanted them to be on their guard if Theo shows up at school.”
“I’ve already put out a BOLO, and I’ll probably be able to get an arrest warrant signed tomorrow if the testing comes out the way I think it will,” Noah replies. “There was no evidence of forced entry, and we found clear signs of Theo living there.”
“He’s not going to prison,” Derek says flatly.
“No, he’s not,” Noah agrees. “I’m tempted to say that he’s along the same lines as Peter, although I’d like to get him on record confessing, just in case we have to show that he’s a danger to the community.”
Derek is quiet for a moment. “How do you reconcile it in your head? I mean, I know how I do it, but I’m curious. You’re at least relatively new to this.”
Noah has wondered the same thing himself, and he’s not sure he has a great answer. “I think it was the thing with Kate and Peter. It was easy to separate them in my mind. Kate had broken the law, she was human, and I could put her behind bars. It was my duty to do that. Peter was a rabid dog, and you put down a rabid dog.”
“And Theo?” Derek asks.
“More in the rabid dog category,” Noah admits. “Darach—rabid dog. Gerard—human justice. Dread Doctors—rabid dog. Matt Daehler—I didn’t really have a choice.”
Derek is nodding. “When you put it like that, yeah, I can understand. It’s about threat assessment, and whether human justice would even apply.”
“Something like that,” Noah admits. “But I hate to say it—Theo’s not natural. Like it or not, werewolves are part of the natural order.”
“Yeah,” Derek agrees. “Thanks. I was just wondering.”
“It’s a fair question,” Noah admits. “I have to admit that I wondered that myself, and every time I had to make the decision, every time I had to slot some situation into one category or the other, it got easier.”
Derek is quiet for a long moment. “I know that Kate will face human justice, and I think that’s right, but the other hunters who attack us?”
“I’m not going to tell you that every law enforcement officer feels this way,” Noah says after a moment. “I’m well aware that there are too many who relish the use of deadly force where none is needed. But if the hunters shoot at us, there’s nothing stopping us from shooting back.”
And any hunter that comes after Noah’s pack? Well, he’s not going to lose any sleep at night if they wind up on Kelly’s autopsy table.
Derek hesitates, and then says, “I don’t know if this is something we need to worry about, but it keeps bothering me.”
“All right,” Noah replies. “Just lay it out, and we’ll figure out if it’s something we do need to worry about.”
Derek rubs his palm against his leg. “It’s just something that Tara and I talked about. Why would the hunters shoot me and not make sure the job was done?”
“I was kind of hoping that they were really inept,” Noah admits. “It would make me feel better.”
Derek chuckles, but the sound doesn’t hold a lot of humor. “What if they did exactly what they set out to do?”
“And what’s that?” Noah asks.
“What if they wanted confirmation as to what Stiles could do?” Derek asks. “Because with the wolfsbane, I shouldn’t have survived. Stiles managed to do something that ought to have been impossible, and anyone who knows something about magic could probably figure out what sort of power Stiles has.”
Noah doesn’t like the sound of that, because that would make Stiles a target—quite possibly the next target. And there’s a good chance that’s exactly what the hunters planned. No matter how closely to the vest they’d played things—no matter how careful they had been around the Argents to make them think Stiles’ abilities were entirely mundane—secrets rarely stay secrets.
“That might have been their aim, but I don’t see how Stiles could have done anything else,” Noah replies. “Stiles knew there was a risk to himself if he saved your life, whether that was due to the poison, or possibly because it would expose his magic.”
Derek winces, which causes Noah to add, “I wouldn’t have wanted him to do anything else, Derek. No one here wants to do without you, and Stiles would have done the same for anyone in the pack.”
“I know,” Derek says after a pause. “And I wouldn’t want him to hesitate if someone else was shot.”
“Good,” Noah replies. “I’ll warn Stiles to keep an eye out, but I think that’s the best we can do.”
“Yeah,” Derek agrees, then says, “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Noah finishes his drink and decides to do the same. Tomorrow promises to be another full day.
He sleeps well that night, undisturbed by dreams, and wakes early. Not for the first time, Noah is grateful for the stamina that being a werewolf gives him. He can operate on far less sleep than before, without feeling the effects.
The house is quiet when enters the kitchen, and he starts the coffee brewing. Noah pokes his head into the fridge, feeling the hunger gnawing at his stomach, and he’s not picky about what he eats for breakfast. A leftover burger suits him just fine, and will give him enough fuel to get through the morning.
He’s eating it in quick bites when Stiles wanders into the kitchen, looking a little bleary, but also significantly more rested than he had the last few days.
“How’d you sleep?” Noah asks, although he’s pretty sure he already knows the answer.
“Like the dead,” Stiles replies, a smile breaking out over his face. “I feel a lot better.”
“Good,” Noah says. “You were dead to the world when I checked on you.”
Stiles lets Batman out the backdoor to do his business, and pours a cup of coffee. “What time did you get home? I didn’t even hear you.”
“Probably around midnight,” Noah admits. “It was a pretty bad scene.”
Stiles grimaces. “Derek said he thought it probably had something to do with Theo.”
“That’s what the preliminary evidence suggests,” Noah agrees. “And I’m glad Derek said something, since I want everyone in the pack to avoid him if at all possible.”
Stiles frowns. “I know Theo was at school the day after the thing with the Dread Doctors, but I don’t think he’s been there since.”
“Based on what we saw at the house, I doubt Theo would risk going back to school, but the kid seemed a bit unhinged,” Noah replies. “And you can’t always predict behavior.”
“I’ll keep an eye out, and I’ll call or text if he shows up,” Stiles promises.
Noah nods. “Good, thank you. Derek has some concerns that the attack on him was an attempt to force you to reveal your abilities to the hunters.”
Stiles sighs. “It’s crossed my mind, and I’m fairly sure it’s crossed Moira’s as well. What else could I have done, though? I wasn’t going to let Derek die.”
“Which is what I told him,” Noah replies. “But I do want you to keep your head on a swivel. The hunters have already demonstrated that they’re fine shooting from a distance, and I can’t put you in Kevlar, much as I’d like to.”
Stiles snorts, and opens the back door to let Batman back inside, then pours kibble into a bowl. “That would be a little difficult to explain to the school, and if they really wanted to get the job done, they’d go for a head shot. My magic is good, but I don’t think it’s good enough to stop a bullet.”
“Let’s hope we don’t have to find out,” Noah replies.
Cora and Malia enter the kitchen together, but Moira isn’t far behind. She gives Stiles a sharp look and nods, apparently satisfied. “You look better. Do you feel okay to drive?”
“I feel 100% better,” Stiles replies. “So yeah. Where are we meeting after school today?”
“We’ll meet here,” Moira tells him. “Lydia is welcome, of course.”
Stiles nods. “I’ll let her know.”
Derek comes downstairs as he buckles on his belt, and he smiles when he sees Stiles. “You’re looking better.”
“So I’ve heard,” Stiles replies good-naturedly. “Noelani’s talisman worked last night, so hopefully it keeps doing that.”
Cora puts a couple of breakfast sandwiches in the microwave for her and Malia, and offers Derek a hug. “Stay safe today, bro.”
“You, too,” Derek says.
“We should get going,” Stiles says. “If we don’t want to be late.”
Moira hugs each of them as they leave, then gives Derek a hug, as well. “Be safe today, Deputy Hale.”
There’s a teasing note in her voice, and Derek smiles. “Thanks. What are you up to today?”
“Ah, I have some phone calls to make to potential allies, and I need to do some minor shoring up of the wards,” Moira says. “I’m being extra careful these days.”
“Better tell Moira about your theory,” Noah advises Derek. “I’ll see you at the station.”
The station is already buzzing with the shift change when Noah arrives. Dave and Paul are at their desks, typing away. Noah assumes they’re working on their reports.
“Anything interesting?” Noah asks him.
Dave shrugs. “Nothing like finding a couple of dead bodies, sir. A couple of fights, a few drunks, but that’s about it.”
“I’ll take it,” Noah mutters.
“Kelly just called,” Mark calls from his desk. “He thinks he’ll have the autopsies for you around 2 pm.”
“Faster than I thought,” Noah admits. “Thanks, Mark.”
Noah heads back to his office, intent on finding some room in the budget for additional resources—to pay for Alana’s research, to pay the overtime he’s convinced he’ll need out of his people, and anything else that might pop up.
He’s still working on that, plus requisition forms, when Tara pokes her head inside. “I’m going to the diner for lunch, sir, if you’re interested.”
Noah pushes back from his desk. “I could use a break.”
“What’s put that look on your face, sir?” Tara asks.
“The budget,” Noah admits. “I got a new name from Chris Argent, and I asked Alana to run it. I figure she’ll be faster, and speed might end up being of the essence.”
Tara grimaces. “Better you than me. What was the name?”
“A woman that Gerard was mentoring, Tamora Monroe,” Noah replies. “Not someone on our radar until now.”
“That doesn’t seem great,” Tara comments.
“I don’t think it is, but isn’t that the way a lot of investigations go?” Noah asks. “It’s not always the most obvious suspect.”
Tara hums thoughtfully. “It’s possible that a majority of hunters would look at what happened to the Argents and decide they’d rather leave us the hell alone. Only someone with Gerard or Kate’s fervor would risk tangling with us.”
The diner is a few blocks away from the station, so they walk over if the weather is nice. Today, it’s clear but a bit cold, and Noah looks to see who else is in the station as they leave. He knows that Derek has a shift, but Parrish is off.
He doesn’t see anyone, though, and that means they’re out on patrol. Most days, Noah allows Mark to hand out assignments to those on first shift, since that’s one thing off his plate, and Mark has an eye for it.
He’s been trying to get better at allowing his people to step up and help out.
He and Tara find a booth in a corner, and their usual waitress joins them after only a few seconds. “Good to see you again, Sheriff,” Abbie says. “How are you today?”
“I can’t complain,” Noah replies.
“And Stiles?” she asks.
“He’s doing well,” Noah says.
“And you, Deputy Graeme?”
Tara smiles at Abbie. “I’m great, Abbie. Thanks for asking.”
“Your usuals, or are we branching out today?” Abbie asks.
“I think I’ll do a Reuben with fries today,” Noah replies, thinking of the burger he’d eaten for breakfast.
“I’ll have the same,” Tara says. “That sounds great.”
“And to drink?”
Noah orders iced tea, and Tara asks for a Diet Coke. Their drinks arrive just a couple of minutes later, and Tara asks, “Is Stiles doing any better?”
“Yeah, the coven worked their magic,” Noah says. “He slept last night.”
“Sleep is good,” Tara replies cheerfully. “I’m a big fan.” She pauses. “What do you make of the murders?”
Noah shakes his head. “We’ll wait to see what Dr. Kelly says this afternoon. I hate to think that a kid Theo’s age is capable of killing two people, but that’s what it’s looking like.”
“What do you know about the kid?” Tara asks.
Noah frowns. “He moved away when he was about 8, I think, along with his parents. I was on the job when his sister died. She drowned, and Theo was the one to find the body in the creek.”
“That’s a pretty traumatic event for a kid that age,” she comments. “A trauma like that can twist a person sometimes.”
Noah nods. “Maybe. It’s certainly possible.”
Their meals arrive, and Noah digs into his sandwich. The bread has been perfectly griddled, the cheese is well melted, and that combination with the salty meat and tangy sauerkraut is perfect.
“God, I forgot how good the Reuben is here,” Tara comments.
“It is good,” Noah agrees. “And it hits the spot today.”
They talk about the other cases they have going on, without getting too deep. Noah doesn’t want to risk giving away too much information about ongoing cases. Their two biggest cases are moving into the prosecution phase, with Brunski and the Eichen House administrator facing charges, and Kate Argent charged with murder. That doesn’t mean there won’t be other avenues they need to go down if asked, but they’re very much on the back burner.
By the time lunch is over, Noah feels fortified enough to go back to the budget. He manages to find a little wiggle room by looking hard at their expenditures and tightening the belt. It might not end up being necessary, but Noah would rather be prepared.
He feels comfortable with the balance by the time his appointment with Dr. Kelly rolls around, and Noah heads for the medical examiner’s office.
Kelly is waiting for him, the two bodies on separate slabs. “Good afternoon, Noah. Thanks for coming down.”
“Thanks for getting this done so quickly,” Noah replies. “What are we looking at?”
“The cause of death for both is the same,” Kelly says. “And there are no surprises. Exsanguination due a complete transection of the jugular and carotid.”
“Any idea as to the weapon used?” Noah asks.
Kelly snorts. “Wild animal? It’s not dissimilar to the injuries caused by the ‘wolf’ Peter Hale was using.”
They both know the “wolf” is a convenient fiction, but it’s for the best that they don’t speak of what really happened.
“It could have been some sort of sharp instrument, too,” Kelly admits. “But not terribly sharp. They’re more tearing wounds, rather than cutting.”
“Lovely,” Noah mutters. “What about time of death?”
“I put time of death at least five days ago, and perhaps as many as eight,” Kelly replies. “I looked at the thermostat while I was there, and they hadn’t turned the heat on, plus the outdoor temperatures have been relatively cold. Those factors delayed decomposition, and make time of death difficult to pinpoint.”
That puts time of death no more than a day or two after they’d taken out the Dread Doctors, which lines up with Noah’s theory. “That gives me a little bit to go on.”
“I might have more yet,” Kelly says. “Because these two aren’t who they appeared to be.”
Noah frowns. “How so?”
“The identification in the house indicates that they should be Jonathan and Marie Raeken,” Kelly says, sounding a bit smug. “But I knew Jonathan Raeken when we were in high school together, and he broke his leg pretty badly during our junior year. There’s no sign of that break.”
Noah frowns. “And the woman?”
“I didn’t know Marie Raeken, but I’ve requested her medical records to see if there are any identifying marks or injuries that would confirm her identity.”
Noah is a big proponent of the idea that the simplest answer is usually the right one, so he asks, “Is it possible that this is just a new husband?”
“I would have made that assumption, too, but he was carrying Jonathan Raeken’s ID,” Kelly points out. “If he was a new husband and step-parent, why would he feel the need to assume that identity?”
Noah blows out a breath. “He wouldn’t, not unless there was some other aim.”
Kelly shrugs. “That’s for you to figure out, but there’s definitely a mystery here, even beyond the deaths.”
Noah could have done without that kind of mystery, what with everything else that’s going on. Still, he says, “Let me know if you discover the identity of the woman.”
“Didn’t you say they had a son?” Kelly asks.
Noah shakes his head. “Or someone pretending to be their son. Right now, he’s our prime suspect.”
“If you find him, you could always get a DNA sample,” Kelly points out. “See if they’re even related to him. I collected samples from both bodies, and those will remain in storage.”
Noah nods. “I appreciate it. Thanks, Joel.”
“I’ll let you know if I find out anything else,” Kelly says.
Noah heads back to the station after that, and he stops by Mark’s desk. “Have any of the lab reports come back from the crime scene yesterday?”
Mark shakes his head. “No results except for the fingerprints. From what we collected, there were three people in the home, and two of those have been identified as being left by our dead bodies. The third set is from an unidentified source, but my guess is that it’s Theo Raeken.”
“I’m going to put out an APB for him,” Noah says. “At the very least, we have a minor running around out there somewhere whose ostensible parents have been murdered.”
Mark’s eyebrows go up at that. “‘Ostensible?’”
“Dr. Kelly knew Jonathan Raeken, and he says he had a pretty severe broken leg in high school. No sign of that on the body, though. He’s still trying to get evidence to confirm the woman’s identity.”
“What the actual fuck?” Mark mutters.
Noah suspects they might never know, unless they can capture Theo and get the kid to spill his secrets.
The problem is that they can’t find the kid. When Kelly manages to get his hands on dental records for both Jonathan and Marie Raeken, it confirms that the dead couple aren’t them. A few days after that, they’re able to identify them as two actors, who are otherwise unremarkable, except that they were impersonating the adult Raekens.
No one has seen Theo, and there isn’t even a whisper of his presence.
Noah calls Shelly Morrison, partly to see if she’s seen hide or hair of the hunters, and partly to bitch about the situation with the Raekens.
“I ran that other name you gave me,” she replies. “Tamora Monroe. She’s not known to law enforcement, but you already knew that. I called the local hotels, but the name didn’t pop. Has your source found anything yet?”
Noah sighs. “No, not yet. What little she has been able to find suggests that she’s living off the grid, at least as much as she can. That’s making things difficult.”
Morrison snorts. “Can you blame her? She has to have some idea of what she’s up against, and she probably doesn’t want to get caught.”
“No, I can’t blame her, except for the fact that she apparently wants to make war on me and my pack,” Noah replies sourly.
“What’s the other thing that has your tail in a twist?” Morrison asks, and the humor in her voice suggests that she’s using that phrasing deliberately.
“Ha ha,” Noah says sourly. “Dog jokes?”
“When the opportunity arises,” Morrison says cheerfully.
Noah sighs, and describes what had happened with the Dread Doctors, Theo’s attack on Stiles, the dead bodies they discovered, and their inability to locate him.
“It’s the damnedest thing,” Noah says. “Why on earth would two strangers impersonate a teenager’s parents?”
“Maybe because Theo wanted everyone to see a teenage kid?” Morrison suggests. “Hard to do that if he’s living alone. Have you been able to locate the real Raekens?”
Noah groans. “No, it’s like they’ve gone into hiding.”
“Maybe they have,” Morrison says. “Stop thinking about Theo like he’s a normal teenager, and start thinking about him as though he was in league with dark forces.”
“Because he was,” Noah mutters.
“Yeah, because he apparently was,” Morrison replies. “No offense, Noah, you know I love Stiles, but Stiles would be capable of being a criminal mastermind. It sounds like Theo is in the same league.”
Noah is aware that Stiles is incredibly smart, and if he chose to use his powers for evil and not for good, it wouldn’t be pretty. “Fair point. I think we’re all grateful that Stiles is on the side of the angels.”
“Theo has likely killed two people, and they might not even be his first kills,” Morrison says. “He’s clearly not interested in getting caught.”
Noah leans back in his chair and contemplates the ceiling. “I hate to say it, but maybe it would be easier if he just didn’t turn up.’
“Easier for you,” Morrison replies. “And I don’t blame you for the thought. I’ll let my folks know to be on the lookout for him, too. Keep up the good fight, and let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”
“Will do,” Noah replies. “Thanks for listening to me bitch.”
She laughs at that. “You need to work on your bitching skills then, because that barely registered.”
Noah laughs in turn. “Take care of yourself, Shel.”
“You, too.”
Noah hangs up the phone and figures that they’ll just have to wait to see what Theo does, but he still thinks things might be easier if he just disappears.
