Reading Time: 73 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

 

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Chapter 2

Derek often thinks that it never rains but it pours. They had to deal with the Dread Doctors and Derek getting shot within days, plus the murders Theo likely committed.

But six weeks after the bodies are discovered, there’s been no sign of the hunters, and no sign of Theo. Everything is copacetic, and even though the coven has been trying to do a true seeing and use the rune stones at least a few times a week, there’s still nothing.

It’s frustrating as hell, because while Derek would prefer the hunters leave them alone, he also hates feeling as though the whole pack is on tenterhooks.

There’s nothing to be done about it, though. They just have to wait. For something that might never happen. Or something that could happen tomorrow.

At least whatever Noelani had done for Stiles means he can actually sleep, although he leaves the talisman off every few days just in case the Nemeton has something to say.

On those nights, Stiles wakes the whole house with his nightmares. Fun times.

Derek doesn’t have a shift, so he’s using the time to do a big grocery store run at Costco since the pack needs to buy in bulk. Since Parrish also has the day off, Derek recruits his help since he has a pickup.

“You ever thought about trading the Camaro for a truck?” Parrish asks on the way to the store.

“My sister gave me the Camaro,” Derek admits. “I don’t think I’ll ever get rid of it. It’ll join Rosco as being permanently parked at the house if it ever gets past repair. That said, I’ve thought about getting one just for the pack’s use for things like this.”

“Isn’t Isaac interested in construction?” Parrish asks. “He’ll need someone to cosign the loan, but you could offer to do that in exchange for its occasional use.”

Derek grimaces. “Not that we’ll need to make this kind of trip for much longer, except on special occasions. Most of the younger pack members will be off to other places in August.”

“Does everyone know what they’re doing?” Parrish asks.

“College for most, but Boyd is planning on joining the Air Force,” Derek replies as Parrish parks. “Isaac is thinking Sonoma, but part time while he does construction. Erica and Cora are talking about getting an apartment together, but they aren’t sure where yet. Malia might follow them, or she might stick around. It’s still up in the air.”

Parrish laughs. “At their age, they’re entitled to change their minds every five minutes.”

Derek shrugs. “I don’t have a problem with them changing their minds, and you’re not wrong. I’m fine with whatever they want to do, and the pack will take care of them whatever that happens to be. I just—it’s weird to think of things changing so much.”

“Look, I know we don’t talk about this, and I want to be respectful, but is this more about Stiles leaving?” Parrish asks.

Derek grabs a cart and flashes his membership card at the elderly man watching the entrance. “Thank you, have a great day!” he says.

“You, too,” Parrish replies with a smile.

“Do we look like a couple?” Derek asks, instead of answering Parrish’s earlier question.

Parrish gives him a look. “Smooth, dude.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “I’m not a dude.”

“Yeah, that’s what you and Stiles always say to each other, right?” Parrish replies, turning it back around.

Derek sighs. “Yes, it’s at least a little bit about Stiles leaving. Maybe a lot about that. I love my sister, and I love the rest of the pack, but…”

“Stiles is kind of at the heart of things, isn’t he?” Parrish asks. “You, the Sheriff, Moira, Scott… He’s kind of the person that everything turns around. You’d think it would be the Sheriff, but it’s Stiles.”

Derek grimaces. “Technically, it was Scott. My uncle bit him, and that kicked things off, but Stiles is the one who figured it out and brought us all together.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I feel like Scott is one of those kids who grew up a lot in the last six months, but was a real dumbass before that.” Parrish’s tone is knowing.

“You sound like you know what you’re talking about,” Derek comments.

“You know how many dumbasses showed up at boot camp?” Parrish asks.

Derek frowns. “I never do want to know.”

“Yeah, well, they have a certain look about them,” Parrish replies. “He has that look. Granted, I’ve found that those guys, once they figure their shit out, tend to have their shit figured out forever, barring a midlife crisis.”

There aren’t a lot of people in Derek’s life that he can talk to about Stiles. He’ll be eighteen in less than six months, but Stiles has a girlfriend, and he’s going off to college. They’re in different stages of their lives, and whatever Derek feels for him, would have to take a back burner anyway.

“Stiles gets under your skin,” Derek finally says. “And he’s only seventeen.”

Parrish shakes his head. “He’s not going to be seventeen forever, man. Give him a few years, and see what happens. But I’ve seen boys turn into men, and it’s fine if you can see the man he’s going to turn into. Also, you two are basically a Nicholas Sparks novel waiting to happen if Sparks ever did anything that wasn’t completely heteronormative.”

Derek will never, ever admit that he’s watched The Notebook and kind of liked it. He’s also never going to admit that he actually read A Walk to Remember and cried.

“I have no idea what you mean,” Derek says flatly.

Parrish snorts. “Man, I know you have watched at least one of the movies, and have cried after reading at least one of the books.”

“I hate you a little bit right now,” Derek admits.

Parrish smirks. “No, you love me, because I’m lending you my pickup, and I’m going to help you load and unload.”

“You shouldn’t even know that Nicholas Sparks exists,” Derek replies, throwing a pack of toilet paper on the underside of the cart.

“I’m a straight man who has dated women who have fucking loved The Notebook,” Parrish replies. “And by loved, I mean it was a referendum on our relationship if I didn’t watch it with them.”

Derek gives him a look. “Come on. Stand strong. The right woman for you will watch the extended versions of The Lord of The Rings in one sitting.”

Parrish actually barks a laugh at that. “The right woman for me will willingly go to New Zealand for a trip to Hobbiton and a Lord of the Rings tour.”

“I’m rooting for you,” Derek jokes, although he already knows Stiles would do that for him, and if that’s the right bar for a relationship, he has a long wait ahead.

Parrish picks up a large package of chicken thighs. “We can drop it, but I thought I’d point out that this isn’t going to last forever.”

“I get it,” Derek replies, and grabs a large package of hamburger. “And I can be honest with myself and you, even if I’m not ready to talk about it with anyone else.”

“Fair enough,” Parrish replies. “As long as you can be honest with someone.”

The thing about his friendship with Parrish is that it’s easy, and even though they spend a lot of time together on and off the job, Derek doesn’t get tired of his company. And yes, there have been jokes about him finally making a friend, but Derek doesn’t mind. He’s just grateful that he and Parrish have an easy rapport.

They get everything on their list, and load up the truck. Parrish had clearly been thinking about what happened outside the restaurant, because he parked near a lot of other cars in such a way that the surrounding vehicles will make it difficult for anyone to get a clear shot.

When Derek comments on it, Parrish just says, “To be honest, it feels like I’m back in a war zone, and it just makes sense to consider our operational security at all times.”

“Right,” Derek mutters. “Call me crazy, but I kind of wish they’d just get it over with.”

“It’s not crazy,” Parrish replies. “The worst times in the sandbox were knowing something was about to pop off, and waiting for it to start.”

That describes Derek’s feelings exactly, and he’s glad he’s not the only one.

It’s about an hour to Beacon Hills from Santa Rosa, and they pull up in front of the pack house mid-afternoon. Moira’s Prius and Rosco are parked out front, as is Lydia’s Honda and Danny’s Mustang.

“Looks like the coven is here,” Derek comments.

“Yeah, I thought they might be,” Parrish admits. “I’ll probably join them once we finish unloading. If the Hellhound can be useful in figuring out what’s coming, I feel like I should participate.”

Stiles comes out of the house with Danny. “Hey, can we help?”

“That would be great,” Derek replies. “Thanks. We didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Stiles raises his eyebrows. “I knew you were doing a grocery run today, and figured you’d want help. We hadn’t started yet.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Danny adds. “My tutu brought cookies, so we’ve been snacking and strategizing.”

Between the four of them, it doesn’t take long to unload, and the rest of the coven members put everything away as they bring it inside. Derek asks, “Do you know how many are going to be here for dinner?”

“We’ll be heading home after our business is done here,” Noelani says. “Kekoa is cooking dinner tonight.”

“Out of everyone else, just us,” Stiles says. “Dad said he’d try to make it home, but it would depend on what happened during his shift.”

Derek glances at Parrish. “There’s plenty if you want to stick around.”

“Dinner seems a nice repayment for helping out,” Parrish jokes.

“I think I’ll stay, if you don’t mind,” Lydia says. “My mom is on a date tonight.”

Derek likes Lydia, almost in spite of himself. She’s smart, and she’s embraced both the coven and the pack over time, not forcing her way in, but instead slowly, and organically, getting closer.

“I don’t mind,” Derek assures her. “Like I said, there’s going to be plenty.”

Lydia smiles. “Thanks, Derek.”

“Jordan, are you joining us today?” Moira asks.

Parrish nods. “I thought I might.”

“Then let’s get started,” Moira says.

Derek grabs a bottle of water and follows them outside. He knows the coven will start with a true seeing and Stiles using the rune stones, and he wants to know what they find, even if he’s not involved in the ritual.

Once again, Noelani is the one chosen to hold the space. As far as Derek can tell, her role is sort of as a lookout, to watch their backs. “Why are you the one outside the circle?” Derek murmurs as the others take their positions, and Moira sets out the scrying bowl.

“Hm, well, mostly because Stiles’ affinity is for the earth, as is mine,” Noelani explains. “The others’ affinities are for different elements, and they provide balance. I remain outside in case of an attack.”

Derek thought as much, but he asks, “Is that really a concern?”

“Not so much, but it’s tradition for someone to hold the space, especially in dangerous times,” Noelani replies. “And everyone would agree that these times are dangerous.”

Derek turns his attention back to the circle, and the now-familiar sight of Moira leaning over the bowl, Stiles’ hands over hers to facilitate the projection.

Moira frowns at the water, and then says, “I’m getting something.”

The face of a young man appears above the bowl—light brown skin, dark, curly hair, and striking hazel eyes. There’s no sound coming through, but the young man seems abashed. His head is lowered, and then slightly turns away.

“Can you see who’s reading him the riot act?” Stiles asks.

“I’m going to try,” Moira replies.

The picture moves out, and now Derek can see a dark-skinned woman with an afro, and she’s clearly addressing a collection of people, including the young man, and her expression contains nothing but contempt.

“I think we might be getting a glimpse of Tamora Monroe,” Stiles comments.

“It’s her,” Alana confirms. “I found a high school yearbook photo, and this woman looks like an older version.”

Moira glances up from the bowl. “Can you use that, Alana?”

“I can digitally age the photograph and match it to what we just saw,” she confirms. “I’m sure Noah could then share it with other departments as a potential person of interest in the assault on Derek.”

“What assault?” Stiles asks. “There’s no evidence it happened, not now. Although, I guess that doesn’t really matter. We might not be able to make a case against her, but it sure would be nice to know where she is.”

“We have time to make a case,” Parrish says. His voice seems to reverberate slightly in his chest, which tells Derek that Cerberus is very close to the surface. “But keeping tabs on them is a high priority.”

“I can’t get a sense as to where she is, although if I can see her in the bowl, she’s close,” Moira admits.

“Within city limits or within the county?” Stiles asks.

Moira shakes her head. “I’m using the ley lines to power the true seeing, so within the territory the Nemeton claims.”

Stiles bites his lip. “Okay, that territory is getting bigger by the day, but I’d say she’s probably in northern California.”

“The Nemeton’s reach stretches that far?” Danny asks incredulously.

Stiles shrugs. “Notice I said ‘probably.’ She could be very close, and I’m not sure how far the Nemeton’s influence stretches, but think about the telluric currents. They’re all connected in some way, and the Nemeton sits on a node.”

Lydia shakes her head. “Its influence would wane the farther away something or someone gets.”

“True,” Moira says. “Let’s not get into the habit of thinking that the Nemeton is more powerful than it is.”

The projection ends, and Stiles and Moira pull back. “So, we know she’s close. Who were you asking to see?”

“I asked who shot Derek, and that young man was revealed to me,” Moira replies. “It’s hard to say what exactly Tamora was saying, but she doesn’t appear to be happy, which is probably good for us.”

She pours the water from the bowl over the surrounding plant beds, then puts it back in her bag. She fishes out the familiar leather bag and hands it to Stiles.

Stiles holds the bag in his hand for a few seconds, and Derek knows he’s centering himself. “All right, Lydia, Parrish, if you could focus on each question as I ask it. Maybe they’ll be a little more forthcoming than they have been recently.”

Lydia and Parrish nod, as do Danny and Alana. Stiles pours the stones out into his palm and asks, “Is the attack from the hunters imminent?”

He tosses out the stones, then leans closer as they fall. From this distance, Derek can see that four have landed face-up. “Raidho, which means delay in this configuration, plus isa, waiting, othala, generational trauma, and hagalaz, disruption or upheaval. Well, that’s a mixed bag.”

“What are you thinking, young spark?” Moira asks.

Stiles shakes his head. “I don’t think the attack is imminent, and we should exercise patience. Something about the situation points to a generational trauma, but I’m not sure if that’s from the hunters or someone else. And, whatever it is they’re planning, is going to cause upheaval.”

“I think you should ask who the target of their attack will be,” Moira suggests.

Stiles grimaces as he picks up the stones, holding them in his head for a long moment before speaking the question out loud. Only two stones land face-up this time, and Stiles says, “Perthro, destiny or fate, and laguz, intuition or subconscious. That’s not terribly specific, but I think it means that whoever they attack will be meeting their destiny or fate? I don’t know about the intuition part, though.”

Lydia clears her throat. “Stiles, your magic is intuitive.”

Derek feels those words like a punch to the gut, and Parrish’s eyes glow orange. “The hunters cannot be allowed to reveal the truth of the supernatural. I will take action if they put that at risk.”

“Thanks, Cerberus,” Stiles says, an edge of sarcasm in his voice. “That’s very helpful.”

“I have decided that your aim to create a sanctuary will be the best way to protect the supernatural,” he says.

Stiles gives him a sidelong look, but then shrugs, “Okay, fair.” He scoops up the stones and appears to be thinking about what his next question will be.

“Ask the stones what the counter would be if you are attacked,” Derek says hoarsely, and although he keeps his eyes on Stiles’, he can sense the looks from the others. It’s not too surprising; he doesn’t think his attachment to Stiles is any sort of secret, not even to Lydia.

Even if Parrish is the only one willing to address it so frankly.

Stiles nods slowly. “All right.” He holds the stones in his hand and repeats the question, throwing them onto the cloth with a flick of his wrist. “Uruz, will, gebo, generosity, algiz, sanctuary, and tiwaz, sacrifice.” Stiles frowns. “I honestly have no idea how to interpret that.”

“You might not know how to interpret the runes now, but tuck that in the back of your mind,” Moira says gently. “If the time comes, it might become clear to you.”

Stiles nods. “I’ll do that. Does anyone else have a question they think I should ask?”

Lydia says, “Ask what would prevent us from being successful.”

Stiles does just that, and two stones appear face-up. “Laguz, blocked intuition or lack of self-trust, and wunjo, disconnection.” He scoops up the stones again and asks, “What can we do right now to ensure our success?”

He snorts a moment later at the two stones that appear. “Kenaz, creativity, and sowilo, good fortune. So, creativity and luck.”

“That could also describe your magic,” Lydia says quietly. “Maybe that’s what it’s telling us—to embrace creativity and luck.”

Stiles picks up the stones and pours them back into the pouch. “I think that’s about all I can handle today.”

“It’s important to know your own limits,” Moira agrees. “Cerberus, anything to add?”

Parrish shakes his head, the orange light dying in his eyes. “No, there’s nothing to add.”

“All right,” Moira says. “Then let’s work on defensive magics again today, starting with deflection. Lydia, you can stay for this, and we can work on how to project your voice as a weapon.”

Parrish climbs to his feet. “I’m assuming that you don’t need me for this.”

“No, you’re excused,” Moira says, sounding amused.

Derek and Parrish retreat into the house, and Parrish mutters, “Well, that felt intense.”

“It looked intense,” Derek replies. “What do you think?”

Parrish shakes his head. “I wasn’t really getting anything from Cerberus, if that’s what you’re asking. I don’t know, but—it makes sense that they’d make a feint and then wait to take another action.”

Derek frowns. “What do you mean?”

“It keeps us off balance,” Parrish replies. “We don’t know when the next attack is going to come, so we can’t brace for it, and we can’t maintain a state of high alert all the time. If we tried, it would wear us down.”

Derek can’t argue with that assessment. Even just a wait of eight weeks has left them anxious for the other shoe to drop. “What the fuck are we supposed to do?”

“The only thing we can do,” Parrish says. “Keep our heads on a swivel, and take care of each other. If we stick together, it will make it harder for them to try and pick us off.”

Derek has no problem with that; it’s not like he really has a life outside the pack anyway.

But the others do, and it’s not as though they can just put their lives on hold for as long as it takes for the hunters to make a move.

“I’d tell you not to worry, but I think that’s a lost cause,” Parrish adds. “We know they’re going to strike, and we don’t know when. That’s enough to make anybody crazy.”

Derek laughs. “Yeah, well, there’s not a long way to go to crazy for some of us.”

~~~~~

Stiles really hates the fact that the hunters are haunting his senior year of high school when everything else is going so well. His ACT and SAT scores are solid, as are his grades. He’s on track to graduate in the top ten percent of his class. He’s still competing in judo, and he’s seeing some success, and he’s starting to work on his college applications.

“How many schools are you applying to?” Lydia asks as Stiles is tweaking his personal essay.

Stiles grimaces. “I don’t know. I’m sticking to in-state schools and leaning towards psychology, or maybe pre-law.”

There’s something in the silence that follows that has Stiles turning to look at her. He’s been working at his desk while Lydia does her English reading from his bed. “What? What are you thinking?”

“I need to talk to you about something,” Lydia admits. “I got early acceptance to MIT.”

Stiles sits up, feeling nothing but excitement on her behalf. “Seriously? That’s great, Lyds! When did you find out?”

“Last week,” Lydia admits. “They’ve been recruiting me for the last several months. I still have to apply, but they basically guaranteed me a spot.”

Stiles knows how big of a deal that is. “That’s your dream school, isn’t it?”

“I’ve been thinking about Cal Tech, too, but MIT’s scholarship offer is going to be better,” Lydia admits. “And, you know, there are some really good schools on the east coast for psych or pre-law.”

Stiles hesitates. “I can’t. I think I need to stay close to the pack, and to the Nemeton.”

Lydia takes a deep breath. “I knew you’d say that.”

“Are you disappointed?” Stiles asks.

Lydia shakes her head. “No, I knew you’d want to stick close, and I guess I’ve known for a while that I wouldn’t. I thought you might be more disappointed, since I do have that offer from Cal Tech, and their math program is one of the best.”

“Yeah, but MIT is your dream school, and they’re what? Basically paying you to go there?” Stiles guesses.

Lydia nods. “Pretty much.”

“I’ve known that for a long time, too,” Stiles says. “You’ve been talking about MIT since grade school, and I knew they’d be stupid not to accept you, and they’re not known for being stupid.”

Lydia laughs a little at that. “Thanks for understanding.”

Stiles shrugs. “I’ve known you for a long time.”

Lydia gives him a long look. “You have. Sometimes—” She stops and shakes her head. “What are you hoping for? You haven’t really talked about that much lately.”

“Honestly, I just want to survive senior year,” Stiles admits.

Lydia frowns. “Stiles… You’re not still thinking about Derek’s theory that the hunters are targeting you?”

“What else am I supposed to think?” Stiles asks. “Based on the readings from the rune stones, it’s a good possibility.”

The problem is that Stiles has done several castings since then, and the message is consistent—wait, be patient, be creative, trust your intuition. More than anything else, though, the message is clear that something big and life-changing is coming.

Lydia sighs. “I don’t disagree, but—I don’t feel like screaming for you when you use the stones, Stiles.”

“At least I have that going for me,” Stiles jokes. “But I have a feeling that there might be everything to play for.”

“Maybe there is,” Lydia agrees. “But you have to live your life, too.”

Stiles gestures to his laptop. “And this is me tweaking my personal essay.”

Lydia sighs. “You’ve been tweaking it for the last two weeks. Are you going to let me read it?”

Stiles knows he needs to let someone look at it and tell him whether he needs to scrap it entirely or if he’s at least on the right track. Wordlessly, he hands her his laptop.

Lydia sits up, crossing her legs and starting to read. Stiles reaches down to stroke Batman’s ears. He’s already researched accommodations he’s entitled to under the ADA, since he has no idea if he’s going to go with student housing or an apartment. Some of that will probably depend on what schools accept him, and who else from the pack ends up there.

Scott wants UC-Davis, Cora and Erica are leaning towards going to going to a junior college for business classes relatively close by, and Danny wants to do computer engineering and is leaning towards Stanford. Stiles just feels incredibly uncertain about the future.

Of course, they have to worry about murderous hunters, a murderous teenager, and probably other threats that they don’t even know about yet. Anybody would be feeling uncertain.

Stiles is broken out of his musings by Lydia sniffling. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” Lydia says quickly, but her voice is suspiciously thick. “It’s just—this is really good, Stiles.”

“You don’t think it’s too much?” he asks.

He’d talked about Kate and what happened to him—because a quick Google search would turn that up easily—and how he wants to put as much good into the world as he can to make up for the harm Kate caused. He also talked about his new limitations, and the uncertainty that’s brought to his life, but how he wants to find a way to seek justice for those who need it.

“No, I think it’s perfect,” Lydia says. “I think tying the pursuit of justice to the desire to understand criminal psychology tells them that you have a focus and an idea for what you want to do, while still being honest.”

Stiles lets out a breath. “I thought about saying something about how my dad was my hero, but I thought that would be too much.”

“It comes through,” Lydia assures him. “You might not come right out and say it, but it’s definitely there. I think your dad is in a lot of what you do.”

Stiles hesitates and admits, “Sometimes, I wonder if there’s anything of my mom in me. She was so sick before she died, I wonder if I even remember her right.”

Lydia sets the laptop aside and plops down on his lap, looping an arm around his neck. “Tell me something true about her.”

Stiles searches his memory, trying to think of something. “I don’t know. I guess—everything she did felt magical. I can’t describe it any better than that. She’d turn on the radio and sing along and dance around the kitchen, and it felt like magic. Maybe that’s why it didn’t seem so wild that I had magic.”

“Or maybe you already knew about werewolves and were traumatized,” Lydia retorts, but then her face softens. “I wish I had been able to know her.”

He smiles. “I think she would have really liked you.”

“Even though I was kind of a bitch?” Lydia asks.

“Mom always said that everyone can have a bad day, or make a bad decision, and the important thing was to learn from that,” Stiles replies. “And I can be an asshole. I think we’re all well aware.”

Lydia sighs and presses her cheek to his. “What are we doing, Stiles?”

“Getting through our senior year the best we can?” Stiles suggests. “And then we stay friends.”

Her kiss is gentle. “That’s a deal.”

She stays where she is, and Stiles relishes the feel of her body against his. He’s always going to love Lydia, and she’ll always occupy the place in his heart reserved for his first love, but it’s not the kind of overwhelming, head over heels love that Scott had for Allison. Stiles isn’t sure he has that kind of love in him.

After all, the pack will always come first in his heart, and he knows that a long-term relationship will have the pack as a foundation. Any other relationship would be a placeholder.

Eventually, Lydia breaks off the embrace and says, “I should get going. I promised my mom I’d be home tonight.”

Stiles reluctantly releases her. “Thanks for reading my essay.”

“I’ve been curious,” she admits. “And I think you should let your dad read it before you submit it.”

Stiles frowns. “Why?”

“Because I think he’d like to read it,” Lydia replies. “And he might have some good feedback. He’s pretty smart.”

Stiles is glad that Lydia gets along well with his dad, but he’s not too surprised. His dad has been pretty accepting of Stiles’ friends, as long as they aren’t doing crimes. “I’ll think about it.”

She gives him one last peck on the lips. “I’ll see myself out. Talk to you tomorrow?”

The next day is a Sunday, and Stiles says, “I think we’re just doing chores and visiting the Nemeton. You could join us if you wanted.”

Lydia grimaces. “No offense, Stiles, but the whole tree baby thing still kind of freaks me out.”

Stiles laughs at that. “Maybe if you visited it, it wouldn’t.”

“I still think I’ll pass,” Lydia replies.

She heads out at that point, and Stiles makes sure to save his essay. Most college applications aren’t due until December or January, so he has some time to get it right. He’s not quite ready to let his dad see it, but he is going to give Lydia’s suggestion some thought.

Stiles looks at the calendar and considers how long he wants to tinker with it. They’re coming up on Halloween, which means he doesn’t have a lot of time.

Thanksgiving is going to be here soon, and then Christmas, and those deadlines will be here before he knows it.

With a sigh, Stiles decides to rip off the band-aid and sends his essay to both his dad and Moira. He knows they’ll be honest with him, and he values their opinions.

His dad is working late, so it will probably be the following day before he even sees it, and Moira has a date with Noelani. Derek is around, but Cora and Malia are both out, which was one of the reasons Lydia had come over.

Stiles heads downstairs, figuring that he can grab a snack, maybe a soda, and play some solo video games. If Scott or one of the other pack members is online, he can play with them.

Derek is standing in the kitchen, munching on potato chips with a faraway expression on his face.

“Hey,” Stiles says softly, not wanting to startle him.

Derek smiles at him, the expression causing Stiles’ stomach to do a slow flip. “Hey. I heard Lydia leaving.”

“Her mom wanted her home tonight,” Stiles replies, answering the unspoken question. “And, I don’t know, she might have wanted a little space.”

Derek just raises his eyebrows and holds out the chip bag in a silent invitation.

“Lydia’s basically been assured of a spot at MIT, and she’s planning to go,” Stiles says. “She asked if I’d consider going to school on the east coast, but I told her I wanted to stick close to Beacon Hills.”

Derek just regards him steadily. “Are you okay with that?”

“I’ve always known the score,” Stiles replies. “I told Moira that at the beginning, and she told me to enjoy what I had while I had it.”

“Good advice,” Derek agrees. “But knowing it was coming doesn’t mean you’re okay with the reality.”

Stiles hesitates. “Would you visit the Nemeton with me?”

Derek blinks, clearly surprised. “Of course, if you wanted me to, or if I needed to be there. Did you want me to go with you guys tomorrow?”

“I asked Lydia if she’d go with me,” he replies obliquely. “She said the tree baby still freaks her out.”

That just causes Derek to shift awkwardly. “Oh.”

Stiles shrugs. “The pack is always going to come first for me, and for me, the Nemeton is an anchor.”

Derek nods slowly. “I know that about you. You’ve always put the pack first, even when it was just you and Scott.”

“So, yeah, I’m going to stick fairly close to home,” Stiles says. “Maybe not as close as UC-Davis, like Scott, but definitely in California. It’s going to depend on the financial aid package I get offered, I guess.”

“What are you thinking for a major?” Derek asks.

“Psychology or pre-law,” Stiles admits. “Maybe a double major if I can finish it in four years.” Batman has followed him downstairs as usual, and Stiles lets his hand rest on the dog’s head. “I’ve been doing pretty good at the judo competitions, so maybe I won’t always need a service dog, but I don’t want to count on that.”

“So, law school?” Derek asks.

“It’s a backup plan,” Stiles says. “But my first choice is forensic psychology, I think.”

Derek smiles. “You’d be good at that. You have a way of seeing things that other people miss.”

“Maybe the FBI would let me consult,” Stiles jokes. “So, uh, I’ve already sent it to Dad and Moira, but um, I know you had to do a personal essay for the police academy. Would you mind taking a look sometime?”

Derek seems pleased with the request. “Of course. I’d be happy to, although I have no idea what they’d be looking for.”

Stiles shrugs. “Yeah, but you can tell me if it doesn’t make sense, or if I should rein it in. Lydia read it tonight, and she liked it, but I could use a few more opinions.”

Derek frowns. “Whatever you decide to do, wherever you wind up, you’re going to do great, Stiles. And whatever the hunters have planned, you’re going to be fine.”

Stiles grabs a handful of chips, and stuffs his mouth to avoid replying.

Derek shakes his head. “Send me the essay whenever you want, and I’ll take a look, and if you want me to go with you to the Nemeton, I will.”

“I might,” Stiles says after he chews and swallows. “I’ll see what Moira has to say. She might have other plans.”

Derek claps him on the shoulder. “I’m going to head to bed and read for a while. Let me know if you need anything.”

Stiles goes to the den and settles on the couch, turning on the TV and starting to flip through the channels. He’s still there when Malia gets home, and she plops down on the couch next to him. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he replies. “How was your night?”

“I was just hanging out with Isaac, and then Erica and Boyd when they got there,” Malia says dismissively.

Stiles glances at her. “Any reason why you all didn’t come home?”

“It just kind of happened,” Malia says easily. “Boyd and Erica had a date, and Isaac and I were talking about what we’re going to do after high school. Everyone else seems to be pairing off, and I think I want to try construction. I don’t want to do more school, at least for a while.”

Stiles turns to face her. “Did you come up with any ideas?”

“Not really,” Malia admits. “Well, Isaac wants to do college part time and get his project management certification or something, but he said he’d teach me to drive the CAT.”

“Being able to handle heavy machinery seems like a good idea, and probably offers better pay,” Stiles agrees.

Malia nods. “Isaac’s been looking into it, and he said the same thing.”

“I guess life is just a process of figuring out what you want to do, and conversely, what you never want to do again,” Stiles offers.

Malia laughs. “I guess. Did you get everything done tonight?”

“I mostly finished my personal essay, but I don’t know,” Stiles says. “Lydia says it’s good, but I’m going to let my dad and Moira read it before I start sending in my applications.”

“You’ve got time,” Malia says.

Stiles figures she knows, since most people in the pack are working on their applications, and Scott and Kira have been fretting over their essays as well. “Yeah, I know.” He takes a deep breath. “Is Cora coming home tonight?”

Malia shakes her head. “She’s staying the night at Tracy’s. Tracy’s dad is out of town on some kind of a business trip, so they have the place to themselves.”

“I can’t really blame them for that,” Stiles admits.

Malia hesitates. “Why do you smell sad? You’ve smelled worried a lot lately, but tonight you smell sad.”

Stiles wants to deny it, but he can’t. He does feel sad, or maybe nostalgic, knowing how many changes are coming. “I know things are changing,” he finally says. “And Lydia is almost certainly going to go to MIT, which is on the other side of the country.”

“And your territory is here,” Malia says bluntly. “You can’t go that far away.”

Malia is very dialed into her instincts, and Stiles isn’t surprised that she understands. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Are you going to stay friends?” Malia asks.

“She’s still pack, Malia, even if she goes far away.”

“So, you understand how pack works,” Malia says. “Better than anyone, maybe. Except the Alpha. But probably even better than the Alpha because you made some of the pack bonds.”

Stiles takes a deep breath. “Yeah. I guess so.”

Malia leans against him. “Okay, then. You know what you have to do, and Lydia knows what she has to do to be happy. But it’s okay to smell sad for a while.”

Stiles wraps his arm around her, knowing that Malia appreciates the physical contact, and he laughs as Batman proceeds to wriggle his way into laying across both their laps.

“What are we watching?” Malia asks. “I’m not ready for bed yet.”

“Me neither,” Stiles admits, and flips channels until he lands on an old, familiar movie. “Have you seen Predator?”

Malia gives him a look. “Have I watched it with you or the rest of the pack?”

“Not that I know of,” Stiles says. “It’s just started, and there’s lots of gore.”

Malia pats Batman’s hindquarters. “Perfect. Let’s watch that and forget the rest of the world for a while.”

Stiles really can’t argue with that.

~~~~~

Noah doesn’t like this. He really doesn’t like this.

The body has been found just inside the county line, and it was dumped. He stares down at the corpse of the woman, which is in two parts, a top and bottom half.

For a moment, he’s thrown back in time to the discovery of Laura Hale’s body, and before that, a member of Ennis’ pack. He wonders if Peter Hale had deliberately emulated the hunters, in the hope of throwing Derek off his trail.

Laura’s body had been bisected, though, with no other signs of torture. The body of Ennis’ beta was another matter entirely.

And this body—

Noah crouches down next to the top half, not needing Dr. Kelly to point out ligature marks around the woman’s wrists and neck. Whether they’d strangled her, or had used a noose to restrain her, it’s clear she put up a fight.

There are lacerations on her arms, chest and back, but they seem relatively superficial, and there isn’t a lot of blood, just enough to know that they’d been caused prior to her death.

Just to hurt her, he thinks. Just to drag out her misery a little longer, before they cut her in half.

Her clothing is torn and dirty, and she has dirt and debris in her hair, but it’s hard to know how much of that had been caused by her killer, or if that was present prior to her capture and murder.

No, what Noah suspects—what he knows deep in his bones—is that this is the hunters’ next salvo.

Look at what we will do to you and yours. Look what we can do and get away with because no one cares about monsters.

“Sir?” Dave prompts quietly.

Noah rises to his feet. “Is Kelly on his way?”

“Yeah, he said he’s about fifteen minutes out,” Dave confirms. “What are you thinking?”

Noah points at the ligature marks. “I think they tortured her before they killed her.”

Dave hisses. “Hunters?”

“Other than Laura Hale, the only other time I’ve seen this was with one of Ennis’ pack mates. Gerard tortured the poor man before cutting him in half.”

“Jesus,” Paul mutters. “What the fuck?”

“We’ll need to identify the body,” Noah replies, straightening his uniform. “The real question is whether the woman was an omega, or if she came from a pack.”

Dave nods. “I’ll put a rush on it. You want me to send her picture around to other departments?”

“Yeah, and let’s check missing persons reports,” Noah says.

“I hope this isn’t a repeat of the alpha pack,” Paul replies. “We don’t need a bunch of bodies dropping.”

Noah shakes his head. “No, we don’t.”

He’s afraid that’s exactly what they’re going to get, though, because it seems that the hunters are playing a head game. They’re going to keep coming at them obliquely, because it makes it harder for Noah to arrest them and put them in jail.

“Let’s be especially careful with the forensics,” Noah comments. “I want to put those responsible in a deep, dark hole.”

“You got it, boss,” Paul replies.

Noah sticks around until Kelly arrives. Kelly gives him a look. “I hope this isn’t a repeat of a couple of years ago.”

“You and me both,” Noah replies.

“I’ll get you the autopsy report as soon as I can,” Kelly promises.

Noah heads back to the station, and goes to his office and closes the door. He checks his email and sees that Stiles had sent him something, but the subject just says “for when you get a moment.”

He doesn’t really feel as though he has a moment right now, so he makes a mental note to look at it later. Noah knows it’s probably important, since Stiles almost never emails him, but he really wants to see if there are any missing persons reports that match the description of the body they found.

Noah pulls them from his county and surrounding areas, and he sends out the notice of finding the body as well as a description on the wire, hoping that someone will recognize her.

He doesn’t find anything, and it’s well after midnight when he finally turns off his machine and heads home. There are sounds coming from the den, and Noah goes to investigate.

Stiles and Malia are snuggled together, with Batman stretched across their laps. He thinks about waking them up and sending them off to bed, but both appear to be deeply asleep.

Batman lifts his head to look at Noah, and then puts his head back down.

“Well, I guess I’ll leave well enough alone,” Noah murmurs. “Sleep tight.”

Noah is too tired to even think about eating, so he goes straight back to his bedroom. He strips off his uniform and is asleep almost as soon as his head hits the pillow.

He sleeps in a bit the next morning, having set his alarm for nine.

Noah pulls on a clean uniform and grabs the dirty ones to take to the dry cleaners, who have a weekend drop box that he can use. He wants to go back to the station, even though he’s been trying to stick close to home on Sundays.

Stiles is in the kitchen with Malia and Derek, and Derek is scrambling eggs on the stove. “Hey, Dad,” Stiles says. “Did you catch a case last night?”

“There was a murder,” Noah confirms, not wanting Stiles to poke into it. “We’re looking into it, but I need to go back to the station today.”

Stiles looks a little disappointed by that, but he says, “I asked Derek to go with Moira and me to the Nemeton today, so it’s fine.”

Noah almost asks Stiles if he’s sure, but he really does need to go in, even if Stiles would prefer that he stick around. “Sorry, kiddo.”

Stiles shakes his head. “No, Dad, I get it. Did you see the email I sent?”

“I did, but I haven’t had a chance to read it,” Noah admits. “I’ll take a look as soon as I can, okay?”

“No rush,” Stiles says easily.

“Thanks, kiddo.” Noah drops a kiss on the top of his head. “I appreciate your understanding.”

He drops his dirty uniforms at the dry cleaner, and heads into the station. He has a response to the inquiry he put out last night from a detective in Santa Rosa, indicating that the victim matches one of the missing persons she’s been looking for.

Noah calls her right away, and he’s not terribly surprised when she picks up immediately. If she’d been checking the wire on Saturday night or Sunday morning, she’s working.

“Detective Baron,” she says in a deep, brusque voice.

“This is Sheriff Stilinski,” he says. “I got your message that we might have found your missing person.”

“The description matched,” Baron replies. “Can you tell me anything about the circumstances?”

Noah hesitates. “It was murder. We’re still figuring things out, but that much is clear. Are there any identifying features I should look for?”

“She has a tattoo of the moon phases on her back,” Baron says.

Noah winces at that. “Let me send a message to our ME.”

He quickly texts Kelly to ask if their victim had any tattoos, and he gets a response almost immediately. “Yeah, he confirms that our victim had a tattoo of the phases of the moon on her upper back.”

“Well, hell,” Baron mutters. “I figured it might be her, but I hate to hear it. The name is Rachel Drake, she’s twenty-six, and comes from a tight-knit local family. I’d hoped she just decided that she found them a bit too smothering and took a trip, but it’s been three weeks, and they haven’t heard from her.”

“Damn,” Noah mutters. “What can you tell me about the family?”

“You think they have something to do it?” Baron asks.

Noah drums his fingers on the desk, and considers how he wants to explain the situation. “We had a family targeted some years ago by a bigot. You might have heard about it.”

“This the thing with Kate Argent?” Baron asks. “I heard she was facing federal charges.”

“She is, but there are others out there just like her,” Noah replies. “I’m concerned that they might end up being a target as well.”

Baron sighs. “I’ll have a word with them, let them know to be on their guard.”

“Let them know that they’re welcome to contact our department directly if they have questions,” Noah says. “I might not be able to answer, but I’ll do my best.”

“I appreciate that,” Baron replies. “Thanks for reaching out, Sheriff. If you could send us the autopsy report when you get it, just so I can put this to bed?”

“Will do,” Noah promises. “Take care.”

“You, too,” she says.

Noah gets a text from Kelly saying that Noah could come to the autopsy if he’d like. Noah doesn’t love the idea, but he sends a confirmation text, feeling as though he needs to witness this for the sake of the victim.

He heads for the hospital and the morgue, running into Mel on his way in. “Are you working today?” he asks.

“I picked up a double,” Mel confirms. “But what are you doing here? Was there…” She stops.

Noah sighs. “We had a dead body. Kelly called me in.”

Mel grimaces. “Better you than me. We’re not going to have another problem, are we?”

“That’s a very good question, and I don’t know the answer,” Noah admits. “I’m going to do my best to nip this in the bud, Mel.”

“I know, and I trust you,” Mel says immediately. “Good luck. Let me know if you need anything from me.”

Noah goes to the morgue next, and Kelly is dressed in scrubs and a mask. “Wasn’t sure if you would come,” Kelly comments.

“She’s a werewolf, Joel. At least, I think she was,” Noah says wearily. “She was definitely killed by hunters, because I know that MO. I just got off the phone with the detective from Santa Rosa who’s been looking for her. The victim apparently has a very large family.”

“Ah, hell,” Kelly mutters. “We’re not going to be dealing with another situation like the one with Kate Argent, are we?”

Noah shakes his head. “I don’t know, but I’m going to do my best to prevent it.”

“Well, let’s see what this poor girl’s body can tell us,” Kelly says.

As he goes over the injuries, he confirms the signs of torture, including the ligature marks. “How long did the detective say she was missing?” Kelly asks.

“Three weeks at least,” Noah replies.

Kelly shakes his head. “I think they held her that long, based on the restraint marks. You see this bruising? Some of it has started healing, while some of it is newer. You can see the different colors of the bruises. And these cuts are starting to scab over, while these look fresh.”

Noah has a thought. “Is there any way of knowing whether they used electricity?”

Kelly sighs. “Why?”

“Electricity can suppress a werewolf’s abilities,” Noah says. “That’s why they used it on Stiles, because they thought he might be one when Kate Argent kidnapped him.”

Kelly shakes his head. “I’ll look, but unless there are electrical burns, probably not.”

“Well, I suppose that would just be shit icing on the shit sundae for this poor kid,” Noah says. “What else?”

“Shallow lacerations on the chest, back, arms, and legs,” Kelly says. “There’s some blood loss, so it was done pre-mortem. Given the scabbing on some of them, and the healing on others, they were done at different times.”

As far as Noah is concerned, it’s just getting worse and worse.

Kelly removes the clothing from the body, continuing to note additional injuries and signs of abuse. There is, at least, no evidence of sexual assault.

“Cause of death was blood loss due to abdominal transection,” Kelly finally says. “Homicide, of course. I’ve only seen this sort of thing twice before.”

“I’m familiar with both instances,” Noah admits. “And I know the perpetrators of both. Gerard Argent died in jail, and Peter Hale is also dead.”

Kelly shakes his head. “I hope you put these motherfuckers in prison, Noah. I don’t care what a person is, it’s about what they do.”

“That’s the plan,” Noah says, although he thinks it’s a real possibility that the hunters end up shooting at people who are authorized to shoot back.

They finish up the autopsy soon after that, and they get pictures of the victim from the shoulders up, and of the tattoo on her back. Noah is glad the tattoo is on the upper half of her back, because he can crop the picture in such a way to avoid photographing the wound.

The details will come out eventually, and the family will likely end up knowing more than they really want to know, but Noah will shield them as much as he can.

Noah sends the pictures to Detective Baron, and gets a swift confirmation that it is Rachel Drake. He also sends the pictures and a message to Sheriff Morrison, asking her to make inquiries.

They would have needed a place to hold Rachel, and if they used electricity as Noah suspects, that location would require power and privacy. Given where the body was dumped, Noah suspects she was held outside his county, which makes the investigation a little more difficult on his end.

Or it would have, if Noah hadn’t spent years cultivating good relationships with other departments and the feds.

And that reminds him—Noah needs to call Agent Marsh. It’s not a federal offense, but if Victoria Argent is involved at all, that could speak to a criminal conspiracy, which is a federal crime.

He sends a message to Marsh, asking for a conversation when he gets a free moment, but that it can wait until Monday.

Apparently, Marsh is also working, because Noah’s cell phone rings a few minutes later.

“Sorry to bother you on a Sunday,” Noah says.

“Don’t apologize,” Marsh replies. “You’re never a bother. Besides, you only ever call when you have something for me.”

“I do have something for you,” Noah agrees. “I sent you the name I got from Chris Argent, didn’t I?”

Marsh hums. “You did. We didn’t find much more than your consultant, to be honest. She was a witness to some kind of crime when she was a child, but the records are sealed and details are sketchy.”

“I think she might have committed a murder and dropped the body just over the county line for us to find,” Noah replies, and describes the circumstances, the connections to the past crimes, and his own suspicions.

“We have some reason to believe that Victoria might be back in the U.S.,” Marsh admits. “Someone matching her description crossed the border in Laredo, but she had documents identifying her as someone else that weren’t flagged as fraudulent. It wasn’t until a border agent recognized her on a wanted poster that we got the tip.”

Noah sighs. “Do you think they’re working together?”

“I think there’s a good chance of that,” Marsh confirms. “It would seem that the two of them are Gerard’s spiritual successors.”

“Right, well, I don’t suppose there’s a chance that by taking those two off the board, we just won’t have to worry about the hunters again,” Noah says.

Marsh chuckles. “If you make them pay, you might. Most of these assholes like their very comfortable lives, Noah. Don’t make martyrs of them if you can avoid it. Put them in prison for the rest of their natural lives.”

Noah knows he’s right, and he needs to let go of any desire for revenge. The best thing to do would be to build an unassailable case and make sure they spend a very long time in prison.

“Fair point,” Noah replies. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Just do your best,” Marsh says. “Lord knows, I don’t think anyone is going to be upset if they get what’s coming to them if you have to shoot back.”

They end the call, and then there’s a knock on Noah’s door. Mark pokes his head inside, and he says, “There’s been a shooting at a convenience store, sir.”

Noah stands and buckles on his belt. “What do we know?”

“The cashier was declared dead on the scene, and the first witness reports makes it sound like Donati might be involved,” Mark says.

Noah frowns. “What the fuck? Shouldn’t he be in jail?”

Mark shakes his head. “Jail’s crowded, and he somehow made bail. His last offense wasn’t violent, even though he had a gun on him.”

“What a world we live in,” Noah mutters. “All right, let’s go.”

In some ways, though, it’s a relief to deal with a perfectly ordinary, run of the mill crime. Even though they have a good idea as to the perpetrator, they still need to follow the evidence.

Noah throws himself into the case, wanting a distraction from the hunters and the threat they present.

It’s late when he gets home, and Noah doesn’t see that anyone else is awake. He grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and drains most of it at once.

He rubs his eyes and freezes as he hears the back door open. His instincts tell him that it’s Moira, so he doesn’t reach for his weapon.

“Did you get the chance to read Stiles’ personal essay?” Moira asks.

Noah blinks. “Was that what was in the email?”

Moira raises her eyebrows. “You’re not getting too caught up in work again, are you?”

Noah blows out a breath. “I might be,” he admits. “But we also had two bodies drop for two separate crimes, so I’ve legitimately had a lot going on at work. I’ll read it tomorrow when I get a free moment.”

She nods. “You definitely need to read it. I think you’ll appreciate it.”

“I will,” Noah promises. “I’m too tired tonight, but I will read it tomorrow.”

~~~~~

Stiles enjoys spending time with the Nemeton, no matter how weird that might be. The young Nemeton’s trunk is now as thick as his thigh, and it’s a good fifteen feet tall. Sometimes, its leaves will tremble in Stiles’ presence, even if there’s no breeze.

There’s been a sense of peace here ever since they cast out the nogitsune, and Stiles has experienced the strength that the Nemeton can offer.

Today, Moira has accompanied him as she always does, and Derek is there as well.

He feeds the Nemeton magic, and then he just sprawls next to Moira on the ground.

“I read your essay,” Moira says.

She’s been focusing on teaching him more about the uses of different plants and toxins, as well as how to remove them from the body without harming himself, whether by using a counteragent, or magic. Moira hasn’t started the day’s lessons yet, though, since Stiles always starts out by feeding the Nemeton.

“Yeah?” Stiles says.

Moira smiles. “It was very effective, Stiles. I think it will make a tremendous impact.”

Stiles feels a wave of relief at that. “Really?”

“Really,” Moira assures him. “But I have to ask a very important question: where do you want to go?”

Stiles hesitates. “We already talked about this. I’m planning on staying in-state, and there are a number of good psychology and pre-law programs to choose from. Whichever school offers the best package is where I’ll go.”

Moira frowns at him. “I understand that has to play a role, and I know that you’re not entirely certain what the future holds, but where do you want to go? What’s your dream school?”

Stiles has been thinking about that a lot. He’s known about Lydia’s desire to go to MIT for years, and recently has been asking if he even has one. “Stanford,” he blurts out. He’s joked about going before, but he realizes he wants it more than he thought. “If I could go anywhere at all, it would be Stanford.”

Derek has been investigating the stump of the old Nemeton, and he turns to look at Stiles. “Great psychology program, and a great pre-law program.”

Stiles shrugs. “Yeah, and UC-Irvine does, too. Plenty of other schools do.”

“Apply to Stanford, even if you think it’s a pipe dream,” Moira says. “Apply to other schools as well, of course, but if that’s where you want to go, we’ll find a way to make that happen.”

Stiles snorts. “You can’t magic Stanford admissions.”

“I won’t have to,” Moira replies. “You have a compelling story, excellent grades, and strong extracurriculars.”

Stiles looks away. “Judo and krav maga. That’s all.”

“You took out a hit man,” Derek points out.

Stiles laughs but rolls his eyes. “He was a really shitty hit man.”

“Still, it’s not something every high school student can say,” Moira replies.

“And even if Stanford doesn’t offer the best package, you can still go,” Derek says.

Stiles shakes his head. “I’m not going to bankrupt my dad. Or take out a ton of student loans if I can help it.”

“You can help it,” Derek points out. “Or I can.”

“Derek—” Stiles begins.

“I’m just saying, I can help,” Derek says, cutting him off. “I’m going to help everyone in the pack who wants to go to college, not just you.”

Stiles relaxes a bit at that. “Well, if it’s not just me.”

Derek shrugs. “My resources are the pack’s resources. You know that.”

When Derek puts it that way, Stiles can’t really find a way to object. “Well, maybe if I get in, and it makes sense for me to go. I haven’t even visited the campus yet. Maybe I’ll hate it. I probably won’t even get in.”

In truth, Stiles knows himself well enough to know that he’s afraid to hope for something that he really wants, now that everything is uncertain. If he hangs his hopes on getting into his dream school, it’s just one more thing that can be ripped away.

Derek gives him a look. “I really hope you’re talking to Jack about this.”

“Rude,” Stiles says.

Derek just raises his eyebrows expectantly.

“I’ll talk to Jack about it,” Stiles replies. “And I’ll unpack my pathological fear of the future.”

“It’s not pathological,” Moira counters. “At least not yet.”

Stiles hears the emphasis on “yet” in that sentence, and he knows that it’s something to address with Jack.

“Are we going to talk about plants again today?” Stiles asks.

Moira shakes her head. “No, I thought we’d work a little bit more on being attuned to the earth. I don’t want us to lose sight of those skills.”

Derek sprawls out near Moira. “What’s that?”

“The earth tells me stuff,” Stiles says. “I can’t really explain it better than that. It’s—” He stops, uncertain how to put it into words.

“It’s similar to Lydia’s gift,” Moira says slowly. “But Lydia is a banshee, and she feels vibrations of the supernatural. Stiles, I think it’s the ley lines.”

That feels right to Stiles, and he remembers the first time Moira had taken him to the Nemeton, when he’d felt the corruption.

“Wait, aren’t the ley lines magical currents?” Stiles asks.

Moira tips her head in acknowledgment. “They are, you know that. You’re deeply invested in magic itself, Stiles.”

“What does that mean?” Stiles asks.

Moira shrugs. “To be honest, I don’t know. Every spark is different, and the records and specifics are sparse. Partly, that’s because of the rarity. Partly, that’s a way to protect themselves.”

Stiles nods. “Okay. How do we start?”

“Let’s start by pinpointing the location of every member of the pack, even those you haven’t created pack bonds with,” Moira suggests.

Stiles smirks at her and points at Derek. “Well, Derek is sitting right there.”

“Smartass,” Moira reproves. “You know what I mean. Close your eyes and focus.”

Stiles sits up and crosses his legs, doing as she asks, closing his eyes and focusing. The easiest person to find by far is Scott, and he says, “Scott is at home doing laundry. Kira is keeping him company.”

“Derek, you want to confirm?” Moira asks.

Everyone in the pack has turned on location services on their phones, so Stiles knows it’s the work of mere moments for Derek to check. “Yes, to both.”

The next easiest to identify is Malia, because that’s the pack bond Stiles most recently created. “Malia is at the library, working with Asha.”

Malia is doing a lot better with her classes, but she enjoys working with Asha, and she still has a lot of time to make up. Having the extra support keeps her frustration lower.

“Yep,” Derek confirms.

One by one, Stiles goes through the other pack members. He starts with those he’d created the bonds for—Scott, Malia, and Cora—then the betas his dad bit—Erica, Isaac, Boyd, Tara, and Dave. After that, Stiles realizes there are others in the pack that might not have pack bonds, not exactly, but are certainly in the pack.

Paul is easy—he’s with Dave, and Stiles already tracked him down. Kira is with Scott. But Lydia and Danny are at Danny’s house, which isn’t surprising, since they’re still tight. Alana is also there, working in her home office, and Noelani is, too, talking to a friend from Hawai’i on the phone.

Stiles tracks everyone in the coven, and then every single deputy his dad has, and then he realizes that he could probably tell Moira where everyone in Beacon Hills is. They wouldn’t be able to confirm it, of course, but Stiles can feel his senses spiraling outward.

“Pull it back in,” Moira says sharply. “Don’t let yourself spiral out of control.”

Stiles opens his eyes and takes a deep breath, focusing on the here and now, feeling the earth under him, the grass prickling his hands, the breeze caressing his face.

“I’m good,” he says as soon as he feels steady again. “That was a trip.”

“How far out could you see?” Derek asks, sounding curious.

Stiles shakes his head. “I don’t know. I feel like I could sense everyone in Beacon Hills, but I’m not sure what that would really tell me. It’s not like I know each of them, but…” Stiles trails off, uncertain how to end that sentence.

“The gift is still developing,” Moira says. “You may find that it’s helpful, or you may not. And it might be a gift that comes to you in your time of need.”

Stiles shrugs. “I guess we’ll see.”

“I think we’ve done enough for today,” Moira says. “And you probably have homework to do.”

Stiles takes a deep breath. “Yeah, I do. I have a math test next week.”

He has some reading he needs to do for history and English, too. Stiles could put it off, but with everything else going on, it feels like it might be smarter to get it out of the way.

It’s not uncommon for the rest of the pack to gather on Sundays, but that only happens about half the time now. Everyone has jobs or significant others, or things that they have to do. Stiles always has his magic lessons and time with the Nemeton, and the other lacrosse players might practice together.

Truth be told, Stiles doesn’t mind having a quiet house, with Derek the only one present. Right after his nightmare—or vision—Stiles needed to know that they were alive, but now he can feel everyone in a very real sense even when they’re physically apart.

The talisman Noelani gave him has done its job, and Stiles hasn’t had another vision since that one, even when he’s slept without it—although he still has nightmares.

Stiles doesn’t think he’s been lulled into a false sense of complacency. He thinks the Nemeton was warning him, and the subsequent nightmares have been echoes of that warning.

But who knows when the hunters will strike next, or what method they’ll use?

Dinner that night is a peaceful affair. Malia and Cora are home, and Erica comes over for a girls’ night. He and Moira cook together, making beef stroganoff with buttered noodles and a salad. HIs dad texts him, saying that he got caught up at work and would be late again.

Moira frowns when Stiles makes that announcement, but she glances over at Derek. “Do you know what’s going on?”

Derek hesitates. “I got a few texts. There was a body dump yesterday, and it looks like hunters might be responsible. There was a convenience store shooting today, but probably unrelated.”

“I can’t really blame him,” Stiles says quickly. “Two bodies in two days is a big deal, and they need the Sheriff for something like that.”

Stiles really doesn’t hold it against his dad. He knows how hard his dad tries to balance things, but there are always going to be times when things get out of whack.

Or when things are just whacked.

Moira just nods, and Stiles would guess that she’s probably going to have a word with his dad the next time she sees him. Stiles wants to defend him, because he knows just how much pressure his dad is under with the threat from the hunters, but he’s pretty sure Moira knows that just as well as he does.

They settle down in the den, and there’s a brief, fierce debate about the movie choice. Eventually, they land on The Covenant, which is ostensibly a horror movie, but is so bad that it tips over into hilarity.

Erica likes it because the actors are hot, and she claims it’s one of the best bad movies ever made. Stiles theoretically bats for both teams, so he’s happy to watch hot people of whatever gender.

The movie is just as ridiculous as Erica promises, and they have a great time mocking it and eating popcorn. After that, they land on Buffy reruns and watch a couple of episodes until it feels late enough that they all know they need to head to bed.

It’s a relaxing day, and Stiles feels pretty good the next morning, even though he doesn’t see his dad.

But there are times, especially when this much has been going on, that Stiles knows it might be a few days before his dad can come up for air.

“Hey, man,” Scott says as Stiles follows the girls into the school. “Everything okay?”

Stiles frowns. “Yeah, sure, why?”

“I don’t know,” Scott says. “I felt something through the pack bond yesterday, and it seemed odd.”

Stiles snorts. “Moira and I were just testing out one of my gifts by having me locate everyone through the bonds, and then to go beyond that. It got pretty intense, so you might have felt that.”

“But you’re good?” Scott presses.

Stiles slings an arm over Scott’s shoulders. “All good, man. It was just a moment of weirdness in my already very weird life.”

“Did you get your essay done?” Scott asks. “You said you were close to finishing it.”

Stiles is touched that Scott remembered. “Yeah, I think so. I asked my dad to read it, but he caught a couple of cases this weekend, so he hasn’t had a chance. Moira and Lydia did, though, and they said they liked it.”

He’s kind of relieved when Scott doesn’t follow that up by asking if he can read it. “I’m not surprised,” Scott says as they stop by his locker first. “I’m still working on mine, but Kira has been helping, and I’ll probably get my mom to read it before I send it off.”

“Are you still thinking UC-Davis?” Stiles asks.

Scott nods and slams his locker shut, having grabbed the books he needs. “Yeah, that’s my top choice. I’m going to apply to a few junior colleges, too. My grades were a little shaky freshman and sophomore years, but I figure if I can go to junior college and do well, I can try again. What about you? Have you decided?”

“I don’t know,” Stiles says. “I’ll apply to a few places.”

Scott glances at him. “You’re not going to follow Lydia? I know she’s been talking about MIT for years.”

“She’s going to MIT,” Stiles confirms, opening his own locker almost by feel. He’s been used the same combination lock since freshman year, so he doesn’t even have to think about it. “But no. I’m going to stick closer to home. I guess I’ll just see what happens.”

He doesn’t want to tell Scott that he’s applying to Stanford. The chances of him getting in, or being able to afford it, are so slim, it doesn’t seem worth mentioning.

“Are you okay with that?” Scott asks.

“I wouldn’t want her not to go to her dream school just because my life is here,” Stiles insists. He puts his text books in his backpack. “My life is different than I thought it would be, but it’s still pretty great.”

Scott shoots him a sympathetic look. “Kind of like how I thought my life ended when things ended with Allison, and then I found Kira?”

“Where is Kira going?” Stiles asks. “Is she going back east?”

“Her parents are planning on moving back to New York, but Kira’s leaning towards staying here for school,” Scott says as they hit the hallway junction where they have to part ways. “I guess we’ll see which schools we get into. I’m planning on applying to junior colleges near her desired schools just in case.”

Stiles isn’t surprised. Scott and Kira have a very sweet, supportive relationship. Her parents absolutely adore him, and their moms have become friends. Maybe they don’t work out long term, but it makes sense that they’d try for as long as they can.

“I’ll see you later,” Stiles says. “I have judo after school, but I’ll text you after.”

“Good luck, dude,” Scott replies. “Maybe a Call of Duty marathon after dinner?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Stiles replies, glad that he’d used the previous day to get ahead on his reading.

Stiles goes through the rest of the day, and everything is normal, good even, but he keeps feeling the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Every time it happens, Stiles rests his hand on the top of Batman’s head, petting his ears, trying to ground himself.

He’s heard the saying “someone walking over your grave,” and that’s the eerie sense he’s getting all day off and on.

After the last bell rings, he spends a couple of hours in the library working on homework, wanting the distraction. When it’s time for judo, Stiles heads towards Rosco, but he seriously thinks about skipping. Maybe, if he goes home and retreats behind the wards, he’ll feel a little steadier.

Then again, maybe what he really needs is to get out of his head for a while. Judo will do that for him.

“What do you think, Batman?” Stiles asks. “Judo or straight home?”

Batman lets out a whine and then whuffs at him.

“Judo it is,” Stiles says. “I don’t really want to face the wrath of Sensei OB.”

The dojo parking lot is unusually full, but it’s situated in a strip mall, and there’s a nearby Mexican restaurant with balloons tied outside.

“Must be a party,” Stiles says. “Too bad they didn’t invite us, huh?”

The full parking lot means that Stiles has to park farther away from the dojo than he usually does, near some of the thick hedges that line the border of the lot.

Maybe Stiles should have seen those hedges and circled a few more times to find a better spot, but he’s distracted by another one of those eerie feelings, and he thinks it might be for the best to get into the dojo and get started. He knows he’ll feel better.

Stiles changes quickly in the dojo’s bathroom and brings Batman out to the open, padded floor. “Down, buddy. We’re in a safe place.”

Batman just puts his head on his paws and regards Stiles with his usual quizzical expression. “Good boy.”

“He’s the best boy,” Sensei Leigh says in greeting. “How are you doing today, Stiles?”

“I’m good,” Stiles says. “Feeling a little unsettled, but I figured judo was the best cure for that.”

Sensei Leigh smiles. “You’ve got that right. Hey, you wouldn’t mind working with Becky today, would you? She’s testing for her green belt soon, and you just passed yours with flying colors.”

The idea doesn’t make Stiles particularly comfortable, but he can’t find a good reason to decline. Leigh and OB have been really good to him, and if they ask for a favor, Stiles would have a hard time saying no.

And having a vague suspicion that Becky might be some hunter plant is not a good reason when he’s at the dojo and under the senseis’ watchful eyes.

“Yeah, sure,” Stiles says. “I don’t mind.”

At least, he doesn’t mind working with her during judo. He’s going to draw the line at dealing with her outside of class.

Becky smiles at him brightly as Stiles approaches. “Thank you so much for helping me today. I’m really nervous for my upcoming test.”

“You shouldn’t be,” Stiles says, wanting to reassure her almost in spite of himself. “And if you don’t get it this time, I’m sure you will the next.”

“I hate to fail,” Becky says, as though she’s imparting a secret. “I’m not good at it.”

Stiles laughs. “Yeah, me neither.”

After spending an hour working with her, Stiles wishes he didn’t suspect her of being a hunter plant, because she’s self-deprecating and good humored. She seems to be just slightly behind Stiles for the most part, although there are a couple of moments where he gets the sense that she’s holding back, and maybe downplaying her skills, although it’s hard to tell.

Something tells Stiles that she might have more in the tank than she’s pretending to have—a feint that’s a little too quick, a throw that’s a little too skillful. It’s nothing he can put his finger on exactly, just a feeling.

But Stiles is learning how to trust his gut, to know when it’s his PTSD talking, and when his instincts are recognizing something beyond his conscious mind.

And his gut is telling him that she’s hiding something.

They finish up and are stretching out when Becky says, “You know, if you’re not doing anything after class, maybe we could get something to eat.”

Stiles is grabbing his things, and he freezes. “Pardon?”

“I’d like to pick your brain about what to expect from the test,” Becky says. “And I’m willing to spring for dinner to get the inside scoop.”

Stiles has no idea how to respond to that. He could make a smartass remark, and he kind of wants to, but he could also be polite and play the long game.

His instincts aren’t giving him anything one way or the other, so he goes with what makes him happy.

He looks her dead in the eye and says, “That’s a really nice offer, but I’m seventeen, and that wouldn’t look great. Plus, you know, I have a girlfriend, so I’m going to pass on dinner. We’ll keep this inside the dojo, if you don’t mind.”

A dark expression flits across her face, there and gone in an instant. If Stiles hadn’t been looking closely, he would have missed it. “Don’t be ridiculous, Stiles. It would just be as friends.”

“Oh, I know,” Stiles says blithely. “I understood what you were asking. I’m just uncomfortable having dinner with someone my dad hasn’t run a background check on. I’m sure you understand. You’ve probably heard all about my issues.” He puts his hand on top of Batman’s head. “It’s the whole reason I have a service dog, after all.”

With that parting shot, Stiles clicks his tongue at Batman and says, “Let’s get out of here, bud.”

He gets out of the dojo without her trying to stop him, but as he heads for Rosco, he gets that same feeling he had all day, like someone is watching him.

And he doesn’t think it’s Becky.

All of a sudden, he sees the positioning of his vehicle with new eyes, the hedges right next to it that would allow someone cover if they wanted to attack him.

The asphalt isn’t as conducive to the telluric currents as the actual earth is, but Stiles feels the warning loud and clear. It’s like the Nemeton is screaming at him that there’s danger.

Stiles surreptitiously glances over his shoulder and sees Becky moving in his direction. “You know what, Batman,” Stiles says. “I think we should join that party. We’ll get dinner to go, it’ll be great. I could definitely eat a burrito.”

As casually as he can, Stiles changes course and heads for the Mexican restaurant near the dojo with the balloons outside.

Stiles isn’t an idiot. He had managed to stop the hitman from doing any harm to him and Lydia, but only because the dumbass used the wrong weapon. He’d managed to roll with the punches when Theo attacked because of judo, and yes, he does have some skills, but he’s not fucking Chuck Norris.

Stiles doesn’t know who’s lying in wait, but someone is, and Becky is colluding. He wants backup.

And even when Stiles thought it was just him and Scott against the world, they had Derek to help on occasion, even if begrudgingly. Now, Stiles has an entire pack and a coven, and there ought to be someone who can give him a hand and make sure he doesn’t die.

Stiles doesn’t feel like he has the time or the space to take out his phone and text, so he goes into the Mexican restaurant and smiles at the host. “Hey, so, I just got done with judo, and followed the delicious smells. I don’t suppose you guys do takeout?”

The young hostess smiles at him. “Of course, señor. Would you like to look at a menu?”

“If it’s not too much trouble,” Stiles says. “I have a friend who might want to eat, too.”

“Take your time,” she replies. “There is no rush.”

Stiles sits in one of the chairs available up front with a menu, and gestures at Batman to lie down. Normally, he would sit half under Stiles’ chair, but tonight he sits in front of the chair next to Stiles and faces the door, clearly on alert.

He uses the cover of reading the menu to pull out his cell phone, and texts an SOS to the pack group chat. He knows Moira had gone to San Francisco, but he doesn’t know if she’s back yet.

Stiles has no idea who else might be available, or who’ll see it, but he’s hoping he won’t have to wait long for a response. As a matter of fact, Stiles has to wait a grand total of twelve seconds before Dave texts, where r u

mexican restaurant next to judo dunno if im crazy

u safe

ordering 2 go

carne asada burrito for me mole enchiladas for Paul 10 min. Everyone else, this is handled.

The response is reassuring, and Stiles breathes a sigh of relief. He quickly picks something off the menu and goes to the hostess station to put in their order.

“Should be fifteen minutes or so,” she says with a smile.

“No problem,” Stiles says. “I’ll just wait over there.”

He keeps glancing anxiously at the door, but Becky doesn’t approach, and no one else feels like a threat. As the seconds tick by and Stiles waits for the food, he’s starting to feel foolish. Maybe he was imagining things, and he’s being paranoid.

Batman scoots back and leans against his leg, and Stiles feels a little bit better. Maybe his dog knows the same thing Stiles’ instincts had been screaming at him.

Dave must have broken a few traffic laws, because it only takes him and Paul six minutes. Well, as far as Stiles knows, it’s just Paul, at least at first, because he’s the only one who enters.

“Hey, Stiles, did you already order?” Paul says jovially. “Sorry we’re late. Dave’s outside with the dogs.”

“It’s no problem,” Stiles says, trying to hide his relief. “The food should be out pretty soon.”

“Right now, señor,” the hostess says, holding a plastic sack with a trio of foil containers.

“Let me get that, Stiles,” Paul says, pulling out his wallet, shooting a dimpled smile at the young woman. “Least I can do for my cousin.”

He winks at her for good measure, and she blushes as she runs the card he hands over. Stiles knows that his dad doesn’t hire people on the basis of their attractiveness, but surely it can’t hurt that they’re all preternaturally hot.

Well, not all of them, but a lot of them.

“What was that?” Stiles hisses as they leave.

“If anyone ever asks, she’s going to remember a hot guy paying for three meals that a younger relative ordered,” Paul replies. “Not that it will matter much in the long run, but if anyone asks, that’s what they’ll remember. That’s the thing, Stiles. If you’re at all concerned about people remembering you, you either give them something to remember that means nothing at all, or you make sure they don’t remember anything.”

Stiles gives Paul a look. “I don’t think I ever asked you what you did in the Army.”

“No, probably because Dave had the more glamorous job,” Paul jokes. “I was Army Intelligence, military police. I had a few undercover jobs. I could have stayed in, but I wanted something besides a war zone. And then, of course, I got Beacon Hills, but I also got the Sheriff, and that’s something.”

“What about my Jeep?” Stiles asks as they leave.

“Someone can give you a ride back tomorrow,” Paul replies. “Let’s not take any chances right now. Dave was checking it out.”

Paul’s car is parked out front, and Stiles has seen it a couple of times before. It’s an old Ford truck, and he doesn’t know how old it is, other than just old. It had certainly been built before Stiles was born.

It has a shell on the back, probably to provide some protection for the dogs, but neither Dave nor the dogs are anywhere in sight. “Where is Dave?”

“I said he was waiting with the dogs,” Paul replies, obviously amused. “I never said he was waiting in the truck.”

There’s just enough room for Batman to sit behind the front bench seat, and Stiles puts him back there, noticing that it’s a manual transmission.

“We’ll pick up Dave, and you can shift over,” Paul says. “We’re all pack here, so it shouldn’t be awkward.”

Stiles gives him a look. “Shouldn’t be doesn’t mean it won’t be.”

“We’re aiming to make Dave’s presence all but unknown,” Paul replies. “It works better if he can just hop in when we stop.”

Stiles can’t argue with that, and sure enough, about four blocks away from the restaurant, Paul hits a stop sign. The back of the truck opens and Cocoa and Nibs hop inside and lay down immediately. Stiles scoots over as Dave climbs into the passenger seat.

“Good thing Paul didn’t send you back to your car, kid,” Dave says. “You’ve got two flat tires. Well, you’ve got one flat, and another one leaking air slowly that’s going to be flat after you drive on it for any length of time.”

“Aw, fuck,” Stiles mutters. “Why do people keep targeting Rosco?”

“Because you drive it everywhere,” Dave replies. “And it’s the best way to target you. Good news for you, you’re not crazy, and someone is really out to get you. Bad news, someone is out to get you.’

Stiles snorts. “Tell me something I didn’t know.”

“We’re going back to our place,” Paul says. “We can eat there and take you to the pack house.”

“Could you tell who was waiting?” Stiles asks.

Dave shrugs. “Normally, I’d tell you it was a werewolf, but the smell was off. It wasn’t a werewolf, but it also wasn’t not a werewolf.”

“Fucking Theo,” Stiles mutters.

Dave shrugs. “If the shoe fits, yeah. Hard to imagine there’s another fake werewolf running around out there, but who the fuck knows?”

Paul pulls the truck into the driveway of Stiles’ old house, and they get out. Dave lets Cocoa and Nibs out of the back. Batman is well behaved enough to wait until they get inside and have Stiles take off his vest with a, “Good job, buddy. You have some time off to play with your friends.”

Batman goes sort of wild with very well-behaved joy, and Cocoa and Nibs do the same as they sit at the dining room table to eat their take out. The dogs are busy in the living room sniffing each other and giving out short barks and whines of happiness.

“Maybe you should keep them tonight, Stiles,” Dave says. “They’ve clearly missed their BFF in the whole four days they haven’t seen him.”

Stiles laughs. “Thanks. I appreciate you guys coming.”

“Your dad is the Sheriff, and that means he can’t always look at his phone or have it off silent mode, but I’m the left hand, and this is my business,” Dave says.

“And I’m pretty much contractually obligated to watch his back and yours,” Paul adds.

Stiles takes a deep breath. “You guys were the first ones to respond.”

“Eh, Paul, Mark, Tara, and I have been taking turns watching that group text for messages of distress,” Dave admits.

Paul nods. “Literally, taking shifts. No one in the pack is ever going to be left hanging on an SOS, not ever, and especially not when we have hunters running around.”

“Does Dad know?” Stiles asks.

“We told him,” Dave replies. “Derek and Parrish could handle it, but they’re a bit too new to the force to know all the tricks for when there’s an officer involved shooting.”

Stiles’ eyes narrow. “Tricks?”

Paul shoots him a look. “Dave.”

“I’m the left hand, and I’m known to favor a sniper rifle,” Dave replies. “Besides, Stiles is a big boy. He can handle it.”

“What tricks?” Stiles asks. He’s more curious than anything else, really.

“Nothing nefarious,” Dave says. “But there are ways to make sure it’s a good shoot when we’re talking about a bad guy. Ways to make sure they shoot first and miss, and you don’t. Or let them attack first, then take the shot, like Corrine did.”

Paul sighs. “Also, ways to alter the crime scene. That’s our last choice, but when it comes to the hunters and protecting the pack, it’s on the table. It’s not like they play fair.”

“They very much do not,” Stiles mutters, thinking about how Kate had kidnapped him and Scott, and how Gerard had broken her out of prison, and how Victoria and Kate hired a bunch of hitmen. There are probably other crimes he could add to the list, but that covers the big ones.

Not to mention whatever they had planned for Stiles tonight.

Stiles takes a deep breath. “So, what you’re saying is that you guys are buying plausible deniability if necessary, because you’re experienced enough to do it.”

Paul shrugs. “That’s about the sum of it.”

“We all decided a while back that we’d do things the right way as much as we could,” Dave says. “But at the end of the day, the pack is everything, and the hunters are a threat. If we can put them in prison, we’ll do that, but killing them is also on the table.”

Stiles takes a deep breath. “Yeah, okay, that makes a lot of sense. I guess it’s a good thing we all decided to use our powers for good and not for evil, huh?”

“We uphold the law,” Paul says. “In the best way we know how. When it comes to the hunters, maybe we get creative.”

“Seems fair,” Stiles says. “Why should we have to play by the rules when they don’t?”

“The rules of the battlefield apply, kid,” Dave says. “That’s how we’re treating it, and most of us have been on one.”

Stiles hates to quibble about something like that, but he says, “Even Tara? I didn’t think she was in the military.”

“She got shot during a frontal assault on the station,” Dave says dryly. “She’s definitely a veteran.”

Stiles laughs at that. “Okay, fair point.” He sobers. “So, we’re under war time conditions is what you’re saying.”

“At least DefCon 3,” Dave replies. “Sorry, Stiles. This is not an ideal way to spend your senior year.”

Stiles shrugs. “Let’s just hope that we can get it taken care of by the time we graduate, and then maybe my dad can take an actual vacation.”

“We’ll hold down the fort,” Paul promises. “Okay, we should deliver you to the house and get to our shift. We asked the boys to stay at the pack house tonight, so we’ll drop the dogs off, too. We need to change, though, so we can be on time.”

“Not like the Sheriff is gonna be mad if we’re late,” Dave mutters.

“I hate being late,” Paul replies mildly. “You know that.”

They dump their refuse in the trash, and Dave says, “Make yourself at home, Stiles. We’ll be right down.”

Stiles hasn’t been back in his old house since they moved, and now he takes the opportunity to poke around a bit. He and Dad left a lot of their furniture behind, and Dave and Paul hadn’t repainted or changed much, all things considered, so it still feels like home in a way. The biggest change are the pictures on the walls.

Pictures of Stiles through the years have been replaced by pictures of Dave and Paul in uniform, shadow boxes showcasing challenge coins and unit insignias, and a fairly hilarious couple of photos of Cocoa and Nibs taken in the style of 90’s high school senior pictures.

In one, Cocoa is wearing a bandana, facing the camera, a big doggie grin on her face. Over her shoulder is another picture where she’s looking off into the distance. Nibs is doing the same thing in his photo, but he’s wearing a jaunty bow tie.

The pictures are so very Dave, and Stiles laughs out loud.

“I couldn’t resist,” Dave says as he comes down the stairs as he finishes buttoning his shirt. “I had a Groupon. Paul laughed at me, but it was for their puppy school graduation, and I couldn’t resist.”

Stiles grins. “It looks like they were very well behaved.”

“Puppy school had to be good for something, right?” Dave replies. “I think that’s probably why they had a Groupon.”

“They’re great pictures,” Stiles says.

Dave shrugs. “Well, we’re not going to have kids, so why not put pictures of the dogs up?”

“Kids can have paws, too,” Stiles points out. “And you have Isaac and Boyd.”

Paul’s buckling his gun belt on as he comes down the stairs. “They’re family, but we aren’t going to make the mistake of treating them like they’re our kids. They’re legal adults, and we recognize that.”

Stiles understands and appreciates the distinction they’re making, and he knows Isaac and Boyd do, too.

“We’d better get going,” Dave says. “Noah said he’d meet us at the pack house.”

Stiles has noticed that his dad’s deputies only refer to him by his first name when they’re talking about him in his capacity as Stiles’ dad, or the pack’s Alpha. If they’re talking about the Sheriff, they use his title.

Which means his dad is at the pack house because he’s worried about Stiles, and not as the Sheriff.

Paul drives them in his truck with the dogs secured in the back. The truck is in pretty decent shape for a vehicle of its age, but Stiles still feels every bounce down the driveway.

His dad is standing out on the front porch, still in uniform, his hands on his hips. Stiles climbs out of the cab after Dave does, and his dad crosses the distance in a few long steps and pulls Stiles into a hug.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

Stiles hugs him back just as tightly. “Yeah, I’m good. Rosco is apparently down a couple of tires, but nothing happened to me.”

Noah pulls back. “I’m proud of you for calling for help and not trying to handle it yourself.”

“I have an entire pack,” Stiles replies. “And while, yes, I technically did take out a hit man, he was really terrible at his job, and I know better.”

“Good. I’m glad,” his dad replies. “Dave, Paul, thank you. Let’s go inside. I have some questions for you, and then we can head to the station, but I want everyone to be on their guard.”

“Everyone” turns out to be all of the younger pack members, and Scott is the first to glom onto Stiles.

“You sent an SOS, dude!” Scott exclaims.

Stiles doesn’t mind being glommed onto. “And Dave and Paul came riding to the rescue,” he replies. “I’m fine.”

The rest of the pack then takes their turns before his dad calls everyone to order. “Come on, let’s sit at the table, and we can go over it.”

“I take it Moira isn’t back yet,” Stiles says.

Noah shakes his head. “No, she texted me and said she probably wouldn’t make it back until after midnight. That was after we knew Dave and Paul had reached you, though.”

Stiles nods, knowing that Monday is the day when Moira meets with her clients, and it’s not like she knew someone would come after him at judo.

Derek enters the house then, wearing his uniform, Parrish on his heels. He gives Stiles a once-over, a look of relief on his face. “You okay?”

“Rosco needs at least one new tire, but yeah, I’m fine,” Stiles assures him.

“Come on, let’s sit,” his dad repeats.

Erica nudges Stiles as he sits. “You’d probably better text Lydia and let her know you’re okay if you haven’t already. The SOS went out while we were watching lacrosse practice.”

Stiles winces. “Right. Did everyone eat?”

“We stopped for food after practice,” Scott replies.

Stiles quickly shoots off a text to Lydia, saying, all good here. dave and paul to the rescue.

i could tell, comes the reply with a winky face. having dinner with mom 2nite, but call me ltr if u want

Stiles and Lydia have never been attached at the hip, so that’s a pretty normal reaction, especially since he hadn’t been hurt. Stiles just replies with will do and leaves it at that.

They sit around the table, and his dad looks at Stiles. “All right, tell me exactly what happened.”

Stiles grimaces. “Becky was at judo, and Sensei Leigh asked me to work with her, since she’s supposed to be taking the test for her green belt soon. I didn’t have a problem with that, at least in the confines of class.”

Noah frowns. “This is the woman who works at the hospital, right? She’s approached you and Derek.”

Stiles nods. “That’s right. She tried to ask me to get dinner after class, but I shut that down hard. Becky followed me out of the dojo, and as I headed for my Jeep, I just got the feeling that someone was waiting for me. The parking lot was pretty full, so I parked at the edge, near some large bushes. I don’t know. My instincts said not to go anywhere near my car, so I went into the Mexican restaurant next door. That’s when I sent the SOS, and Dave and Paul showed up less than 10 minutes later.”

Noah looks at his deputies. “What did you find?”

“Someone punctured one of Stiles’ tires and removed the valve cap on another,” Dave replies. “Even if he hadn’t noticed it in the parking lot, the tires would have gone flat while he was driving home. Paul dropped me off a few blocks away, and I took the dogs to check out the scene. Someone was waiting for him. The scent pile was deep enough that they’d been there for at least 30 minutes. I didn’t recognize it, but it smelled kind of like a werewolf, but also like chemicals.”

Noah sighs. “Well, I think we know one person who fits that bill, although without evidence, it’s only supposition.”

“Theo Raeken,” Stiles mutters.

His dad nods. “Most likely. He already has an APB out on him, so I’m not sure what else we can do. I don’t like the fact that he seems to be targeting Stiles, though.

“Do you think Becky was involved?” Noah asks.

Stiles drums his fingers on the table as he thinks about it. “Maybe? It’s certainly possible. If I’d actually gone to my car and seen the flat tire, she could have offered me a ride. I wouldn’t have accepted, but it’s possible that they think I’m a lot dumber than I am.”

“You aren’t dumb at all,” his dad says fondly. “They should have realized that.” His dad clears his throat. “I put Becky on Alana’s radar, but she hasn’t been a priority until now. I’ll let her know to bump the name up on her list.”

Dave asks, “What do you want us to do?”

“Go back to Stiles’ vehicle and get what evidence you can,” Noah replies. “If we can get prints, we might be able to figure out who tampered with his tires at least.”

“It wasn’t Becky,” Stiles says. “She was in class the whole time.”

His dad nods. “But we have exemplars of the prints we assume belong to Theo from the double homicide. If they match, we’ll add it to the list of charges, and we can bump up the threat level.”

Stiles frowns. “A double murder didn’t put him at the top of the list?”

“They’re dead,” Paul drawls. “But if he presents a clear and present threat to the living, that’s another matter entirely.”

Stiles can understand that; dead is dead, but a life could still be saved.

“What are we going to do?” Scott asks.

“You guys are going to go about your lives as normal,” Noah says. “But since we don’t know if they’re targeting the pack as a whole or Stiles in particular, the buddy system applies. I want everyone to be careful and keep a sharp eye out.”

Stiles has no desire to be caught out alone, and judging from the expressions of the others, they don’t either. There’s a ragged chorus of “yes, sirs” from around the table.

His dad sighs and stands up. “I’m sorry, Stiles, but I really need to go back to the station. Are you okay?”

Stiles nods, because what else is he going to do? HIs dad has a job, and that job gets more complicated when there are werewolves and other creatures involved. “I’m fine, Dad. Go be awesome.”

Derek and Parrish half-stand. “Sir?” Parrish says, apparently speaking for both of them.

“I’d appreciate it if you stayed here tonight, Derek,” his dad says. “Parrish, if you wanted to stay, that would be good.”

Stiles easily translates that into his dad saying he can’t order Parrish to do anything, since he’s not asking Parrish as his boss, but rather as the Alpha. And it’s not like Parrish has a pack bond. Stiles doesn’t think he could forge one if he tried, not unless Cerberus was willing, so there’s no way Stiles is even going to try until he gets that clearance.

“I’ll stay,” Parrish says. “I left some clothes here.”

“We’re all staying here tonight,” Boyd says firmly.

“I already cleared it with my parents,” Erica adds.

Scott nods. “Me, too.”

His dad smiles at that. “Good. I’ll feel better knowing you’re all under this roof.”

There’s a part of Stiles that wonders if that’s a mistake, concentrating the pack members in a single location, but at least they have the wards, and they’ll know if someone approaches.

Scott rubs his hands together. “Okay, I say we make popcorn and take this party to the basement. We can bunk down there tonight.”

Stiles says, “I’ll be down in just a bit. I need to get cleaned up, and I’m going to call Lydia, make sure everything is okay there.”

“We’ll be there, dude,” Scott says cheerfully. “Take your time.”

Stiles really needs a shower, and he does want to talk to Lydia. “Thanks, man. You guys know where everything is.”

He takes a long, hot shower, standing under the spray for what would certainly be too long if Derek hadn’t put in a tankless water heater. He turns the water off eventually and dries off, putting on his favorite flannel pants and a t-shirt and hoodie.

Stiles goes to his room and throws himself on the bed. He texts Lydia now okay?

The answer is his phone vibrating with a call, and Lydia’s name on the caller ID. “Hey.”

“I saw the SOS,” she says. “And Dave’s response. I didn’t feel like screaming even a little bit, so I knew you were fine. Tell me what happened, leave nothing out.”

Stiles grins helplessly. “Yeah, okay.”

He describes what happened at judo, and the feeling he got as he approached Rosco. “I didn’t know how to explain it to anyone else.”

“Probably like I feel when I’m going to scream,” Lydia says practically. “Our gifts might be different, but I’ve been thinking about it. I think the earth communicates with you through the telluric currents, but my gift is fed by metaphysical connections. Sioned and I talked about that a lot this summer. My gift, I mean, not yours. I didn’t know what I was free to share, or what Moira already had.”

Stiles laughs, but he appreciates her discretion. “Thanks. That does make sense. I hadn’t really thought about the mechanics of our gifts, and how they might differ.”

“You’ve had a lot on your plate, Stiles,” Lydia replies. “Have you finished your essay yet?”

Stiles sighs. “It’s pretty much done. Moira really liked it, and my dad hasn’t read it yet. I’m waiting for his feedback, but there’s been a lot of crime recently.”

“You don’t think they’re keeping him busy, do you?” Lydia asks.

Stiles blinks. “Well, one was a convenience store robbery, and they’re pretty sure they know who did it, and I’m not sure about the other one, although I can probably figure it out. But no, I don’t think—”

He trails off. “Maybe. They made a play for me tonight, but what if that was just a play? Someone threatens a member of the pack, and the whole pack gathers for safety.”

“Do you have any extra precautions you can take tonight, Stiles?” Lydia asks.

Stiles thinks about it for a long moment. “Maybe. We set the traps for the Dread Doctors.”

“You did that while working with an entire coven,” Lydia points out ruthlessly.

“Yeah, and I don’t have a coven,” Stiles replies. “Moira is out of town, probably until sometime after midnight.”

“You have Alana, Noelani, and Danny,” Lydia points out.

Stiles sighs. “No one knows the wards better than Moira does.”

“Are you, or are you not, a spark, Stiles?” Lydia demands.

Stiles thinks about it. “Yeah, I have an idea. It might be a stupid idea, but it’s at least an idea. I’m going to need your help, though.”

“You have it,” Lydia says immediately. “Of course.”

Stiles sucks in a breath. “Right. I think I can make things more difficult for anyone who shows up. Can you meet me at the back of the house? I think my idea will work better with the two of us.”

“Give me 20 minutes,” Lydia replies. “What are you going to tell the others?”

“I’m going to tell them that I need some privacy with my girlfriend so we can make out by the fire pit,” Stiles replies. “No one needs to know what we tried to do if it doesn’t work out.”

Lydia pauses. “You’ll still be inside the wards, right?”

“The boundary stretches out about fifty yards from the house on all sides,” Stiles assures her. “If someone approaches, I’ll feel them coming.”

“Okay,” Lydia says. “I’ll meet you there.”

Stiles feels as though their best bet is to trap anyone who tries to attack them, so his dad can arrest them and put them in prison. He knows that his dad and his deputies could certainly figure out how to make it a good shoot, but killing the hunters seems like it would just create martyrs.

Putting them in prison, on the other hand, might end up being a powerful deterrent.

Stiles heads downstairs, and finds Derek and Parrish in the kitchen. They’ve changed out of their uniforms into more comfortable clothing, and Derek gives him a sharp look. “You look like you’re planning something.”

“What makes you think that?” Stiles objects.

Derek just raises his eyebrows. “Because I know you, and I know that look on your face.”

Stiles sighs. “Lydia is coming over, and we’re going to try something.”

“What kind of something?” Derek asks suspiciously.

Stiles hesitates. “Remember how I kept the Dread Doctors from disappearing?”

Parrish is watching the conversation with a bemused expression on his face. “You mean with the tree roots?” he asks.

Stiles nods. “I think I can do that for anyone who crosses the ward boundaries who aren’t recognized. Lydia is going to come over to help me. We’re just going to go as far as the ritual space.”

“Can’t it wait?” Derek asks. “Your dad wanted everyone to stay put.”

“I am staying put,” Stiles objects. “But I think they might have come at me tonight to get the whole pack in one place. Well, most of the pack.”

Derek frowns, and Stiles can see the wheels in his head turning. Finally, he says, “That’s an unfortunate possibility.”

“I don’t know that we’ll be successful,” Stiles says. “And I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up, but I can’t just sit around and wait for them to attack.”

“All right,” Derek finally says. “I get it, and I can’t even disagree. Don’t go any farther than that, though.”

Stiles nods. “You got it. I’m not interested in tempting them to come at me again.”

Maybe Stiles can’t do anything, but he wants to try. Right now, it feels as though they have a target painted on the house, and he wants to make it just that much harder for the hunters to get close.

---