Reading Time: 74 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 4

As soon as Stiles wakes up—or maybe just before he wakes—Derek can feel the pack bonds snap back into place, stronger than ever. He’d been on patrol with Mark when he felt it, and he’d drawn his first deep breath in what felt like days.

Derek hasn’t been able to breathe easy since the wolfsbane in the house.

Mark is driving, as he usually does, and he glances over at Derek. “You okay, Hale?”

“Stiles is awake,” Derek says.

Mark just shakes his head. “You know, werewolves I’m good with. Werewolves almost seem normal, all things considered. Magic is something else.”

“Yeah, I know,” Derek agrees. “You kind of get used to it when you spend a lot of time with Stiles, though.”

His phone chimes with a text a minute or so later with confirmation that Stiles is awake and is fine. Or at least he seems to be fine. Noah also asks that everyone follow their usual routine, just in case they’re being watched.

“You need to go home?” Mark asks.

They’ve all been working extra hours while Stiles has been unconscious, giving Noah a chance to spend more time with his son. Everyone in the pack knows Moira can’t break Stiles free, and the pack bonds are fraying. They also know they might have to take drastic action.

Everyone at the station knows Stiles is gravely injured and might never wake up, so they’re bending over backwards for Noah, giving him room to do what he needs to do.

“No,” Derek replies. “The Sheriff is still worried that the hunters are watching us. He wants us to stick to our usual routines.”

Mark hums. “If you want to go home, I’ll cover for you.”

Derek shakes his head. It’s hard to explain to someone who’s not pack that the bond is back, stronger than ever, and that’s all he needs to know.

“All right, well, we have that interview about the robbery to follow up on, so if your head’s in the game…”

“My head is in the game,” Derek insists.

And his head is clear, for the first time in days, maybe because he can breathe again.

“Keep your head on a swivel, too,” Mark says. “I know the hunters are a threat to the pack, but if someone in that group has two brain cells to rub together, they’ll figure out that the station is in the know. We’d have to be to be as effective as we are.”

Derek shrugs. “People have an amazing capacity for self-deception, and attacking the sheriff is one thing. Attacking an entire law enforcement department? You’d bring the feds down on you like a ton of bricks.”

“True,” Mark says. “But that doesn’t mean they aren’t insane enough to do just that.”

The rest of Derek’s shift passes uneventfully. They don’t get much more information from their interview of the convenience store clerk who had been held up two nights before, but the robber wore a mask, so that’s not too surprising.

The rest of the day is routine, the way things at home haven’t been, and Derek appreciates that. Plus, with the pack bonds singing with renewed power, Derek feels comfortable in his own skin again.

He gets back to the house after his shift that night—later than usual, largely because they had a call from the local Walmart about a shoplifter right at the end of their shift. When he sees Stiles up and around and coherent, none the worse for wear, he can only stare.

Eventually, Stiles breaks the tension with a hug, and things seem to snap back into place—or they would, if they weren’t waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Derek goes about his usual routine the following day, just as Noah asked. He’s up shortly after Stiles and Scott are, but Derek can tell that they’re reconnecting over laundry and making breakfast. He doesn’t interrupt them, although he eats the French toast and bacon with a feeling of gratitude.

With each small action, everything seems that much more normal, but he still feels as though they’re on the edge of a precipice.

Because if the hunters think that Stiles isn’t around to use magic to protect the pack, then they’re likely to strike soon.

Derek kind of wants to stick around the house, patrol the Preserve on foot, maybe in his fur, but he goes to the station like usual.

Today, Tara is the one to grab him pretty much as soon as he enters. “I need to talk to you. The Sheriff’s office.”

Dave and Paul are there as well, their backs stiff with tension.

“Uh, what’s up?” Derek asks, feeling as though he’s been ambushed.

“I know Stiles is back to normal,” Dave says. “But what the fuck is up with the pack bond?”

Derek blinks at him. “What are you talking about? Didn’t you feel them fraying?”

“Not really,” Tara replies. “But shortly before I got the text from the sheriff that Stiles was back, it felt weird.”

Derek has no idea what to say to that. “I don’t know. It felt normal to me, but maybe better? Stronger?”

“Well, that answers that question,” Paul mutters. “Because I felt it, too, and I’m not sure that I should have.”

“Uh, well, Stiles,” Derek says, because he feels that’s explanation enough.

“I know where the sheriff is,” Tara says in a low voice. “In a way that I did not know before.”

“If he’s in trouble, you’re going to know about it?” Derek offers.

Dave shakes his head. “So, this is normal for you.”

Derek shrugs. “It’s better than it was when Stiles was in his coma. While he was unconscious, the pack bonds were getting weaker.”

“Not all of them,” Tara replies. “I felt fine.”

“Do you not feel fine now?” Derek asks curiously.

That seems to back everyone up a step, and Tara closes her eyes. “I feel great,” she admits. “I feel more connected to the pack than I did before. It’s not bad, it’s just that I know where everyone is. And how they’re feeling.”

“Yeah, that will go away,” Derek replies. “Just don’t focus on it. It will fade into the background.”

“What if I don’t want it to?” Dave asks. “Because this could be incredibly helpful.”

Derek shrugs. “You could ask Stiles. He could probably come up with something, or maybe just don’t want it to go away.” He looks at Paul. “And you?”

Paul is clearly hesitant. “Yeah, well, coyote families do tend to have a bond, but not to this level. It’s a little weird, but I’m not mad about it. Tara’s mad because she doesn’t want to be responsible for the sheriff’s foundlings.”

“I do not want to be a parent of any sort!” Tara exclaims.

“You don’t have to be,” Derek replies, knowing that he sounds bewildered. “That’s just how Stiles’ bonds feel. You can ignore whatever you want. You can be involved in the pack however you want. But if the hunters attack, or something else happens, you’ll know, and you’ll be able to respond.”

“Right,” Tara says. “Why does it feel weird?”

“Because you’ve been trying to keep your distance?” Derek asks. “We all know that, and we’re fine with it. You don’t have to be super dialed in, but are you okay knowing we’re all here for you?”

Tara blinks and then stares up at the ceiling, clearly trying to get her emotions under control. “Yes. I am.”

“Okay, so, we’re fine,” Derek says. “Stiles woke up. The pack bonds he forged were fraying, but they’re solid now. The bonds Noah created when he bit you got an extra push. No big deal.”

Tara sighs. “Well, when you put it that way, I feel like a complete idiot.”

Derek shrugs. “I wouldn’t feel like an idiot. The pack bonds—” He stops. For him, it had been sheer relief, what Stiles had done. A werewolf needs a pack, and after Laura’s death, Derek thought he’d never have one again. When Stiles declared them pack, and the bond bloomed between them, it was as though Stiles had breathed life back into him.

But Derek had been born into a pack; Tara hadn’t been. It wouldn’t necessarily feel natural to her.

“I can see why they would be comforting to some,” Tara says diplomatically. “But thank you for saying that. I think I just needed to know that I hadn’t signed up for something I want no part of.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dave replies. “I’ve got your part of that whole deal covered.”

Paul just laughs at that. “Dave’s right. If the Sheriff decides to bring in more foundlings, we’ll help him. If they need someone to put the fear of god into them, we’ll call you.”

“Fear of god I can do,” Tara says with a smile.

“We all have our strengths,” Derek says.

“All right, I’m done freaking out,” Tara announces. “Thank you for indulging me. Now, let’s get to work.”

“We have to get home,” Dave says. “Have a good shift, guys.”

“You’re with Mark today,” Tara says. “We talked with the Sheriff, and we agreed to split up the ‘wolves, just in case the hunters try something.”

Derek shakes his head. “They’re fully capable of coming after anyone at the station, werewolf or not.”

“We know that from Kate’s actions,” Tara says reasonably. “But we’re still going to take precautions.”

Parrish is sitting at his desk already, apparently reading the reports that had come in overnight. “How is everything at home?”

Derek shrugs. “Stiles seems pretty much back to normal.”

“Good,” Parrish says briefly. “Got some reports that might be something.”

Derek sits down at his desk, knowing that Mark will tell him what they’re doing that day. He starts reading the reports that Parrish had flagged, and he mutters, “Huh.”

“See what I mean?” Parrish asks.

“You think the hunters have set up shop in a warehouse?” Derek asks as he reads. Several people have reported lights in windows in what should be an empty building late at night. Nothing had been flagged, likely because there were no signs of damage to the property, or signs of injury.

The most recent report is from the electric company, though, saying that it appears someone is stealing energy, and they traced it to that location. That suggests something a little more than an ordinary vagrant.

“Not just a warehouse,” Parrish points out. “It’s the same one we were using as a stalking horse for a while.”

“Those bastards,” Derek mutters. “They’ve been watching us for a long time.”

“We already knew that,” Parrish points out. “But we know that warehouse.”

Derek immediately realizes what he’s saying. They know the layout really well. The hunters would know it, too, by now, but that does give them an advantage.

“You think they’re still there?” Derek asks.

Parrish shrugs. “I think maybe we should find out.”

Mark approaches, and he says, “That’s what we’re going to do. Parrish, you’re with Tara. Derek, with me.”

“Yes, sir,” Derek says immediately.

At least they have a direction, rather than just flailing about, which is what it feels like they’ve been doing.

“Should we let the Sheriff know?” Derek asks Mark as he buckles his seatbelt.

“Let’s see if there’s anything to it first,” Mark replies as he pulls out of the parking spot. “It could be nothing.”

“Is that why there are four of us responding?” Derek asks.

Mark gives him a mild glare. “None of that smartass shit. I’m not taking any chances with a bunch of assholes who have no problem attacking the Sheriff’s house.”

Derek realizes that Mark isn’t interested in joking around, not even a little bit, and he resolves to keep his mouth shut until he has something of value to offer.

After a few seconds, Mark says, “I’m sorry. That was unnecessarily harsh.”

Derek shrugs it off. “It’s fine. I get that things are tense.”

“Still, I shouldn’t have sworn at you,” Mark says.

“I’m used to Stiles’ potty mouth,” Derek admits. “It barely registered.”

Mark laughs at that. “Yeah, the Sheriff has mentioned that in the past.” He parks about a block away from the warehouse. “We’ll move cautiously. If we find any signs of life, we’ll look around the area to see if there are any cameras to pull footage.”

“Should I go in my fur?” Derek asks. “It might be a little more inconspicuous.”

“If I were letting you go in alone, sure, but since we’re not splitting up, no,” Mark replies. “This warehouse is the one the pack was using for a while, isn’t it?”

Derek snorts. “Does anything get past you?”

“Nothing that I might have to write a report on,” Mark replies with good humor. “I might have needed to write a report on why people were sneaking in and out of the place. But since you know your way around, I’ll let you lead the way.”

Derek leads him to the back of the warehouse, since he knows there’s an unsecured door they’d used to get in and out.

Parrish and Tara meet them, and Derek strains to hear anything from inside.

“Anything?” Mark asks.

Derek shakes his head. “Maybe a few rats, but that’s it.”

“All right, let’s see what we can find,” Mark says, glancing at Tara. “Take the right side?”

Tara nods. “Got it.”

Derek pushes the door open, and Tara is the first to enter, moving to the right, followed by Mark who heads left, then Parrish, then Derek.

It’s obvious both that the hunters have deserted the building, and also that they were here. There are food wrappers and other trash littering the floor, as well as a couple of empty ammunition boxes.

Derek sneezes, and he feels the back of his throat itch. On the other side of the room, Tara starts to sneeze as well.

“Werewolves out of the building,” Parrish calls. “I think we have wolfsbane.”

“Fucking hell,” Mark says. “Everyone out! We’ll come back with protective gear.”

Derek turns back towards the door and watches as it goes up in flames. That whole side of the warehouse seems to catch fire at once, and Derek realizes they’ve walked right into a trap.

Now, it’s not just the wolfsbane Derek and Tara have to contend with, but also the smoke and fumes from the fire.

“These fucking idiots,” Parrish mutters. “Up the stairs.”

“What’s up there?” Mark asks, providing Derek with some support as he starts coughing in earnest.

“There’s a window,” Parrish replies. “The werewolves and I can jump, and we’ll catch you.”

Parrish helps Tara up the stairs, away from the wall of flame, towards the small office where Derek knows there’s a window. It’s a twenty-foot drop to the ground below, but when he mentions that fact, Mark says, “Better a couple of broken legs than burning to death.”

Someone has boarded over the window with a sheet of plywood, but Parrish doesn’t hesitate to start kicking it. Derek hears wood splintering and the sound of breaking glass, and Mark leaves Derek to help, pulling the sleeves of his jacket down over his hands to offer some protection from the broken wood and glass.

Derek is finding it difficult to breathe, and so can’t be as much help as he’d like, but Mark and Parrish have the window cleared in under a minute.

Mark says, “Hale! Go!”

Derek jumps, hitting the ground and rolling to break his fall. Tara follows a second later, then Parrish.

“Come on!” Parrish calls up. “I’ll break your fall!”

“I’ll break you!” Mark replies.

“I can take it!” Parrish snaps. “Move! We’re exposed out here!”

Mark doesn’t hesitate after that, and Parrish takes the full brunt of Mark’s body; they both roll with the force of it.

Parrish gets back on his feet right away, reaching down to pull Mark up. “You okay?”

Mark quickly dusts himself off. “I shouldn’t be, but I am. Derek, Tara, you okay?”

“Catching my breath,” Tara wheezes. “I’ve never had an asthma attack, but I’m pretty sure that’s what it feels like.”

Derek is slower to recover, and he has his hands on his knees, bent over, trying to catch his breath.

“I think we should get Derek to the hospital,” Mark says, sounding worried.

“That was the second exposure in a week, on top of the trauma from the shooting,” Parrish comments. “So, yeah.”

“I’ll be okay,” Derek manages to say, forcing the words out. “What are they going to do?”

“Maybe there’s something they can do to help your breathing,” Parrish replies.

The sound of a police siren reaches them, and Derek says, “Here comes the Sheriff.”

“Fire and rescue won’t be far behind,” Parrish comments.

“We’ll let them transport you,” Mark says, helping Derek to move away from the burning warehouse.

Derek’s head isn’t exactly clear, but he’d have to be a lot more compromised not to realize that the hunters had probably called the reports in themselves, knowing that the Sheriff’s department would likely respond. They’d done what they could to trap them in the warehouse and burn them alive.

Noah is in front of the building with his lights and sirens on as the fire department responds, firefighters in their turnouts beginning to assess the fire.

An ambulance arrives, and although Derek protests, he and Tara both get put in the back.

“Mark, what the hell happened?” Noah demands as the EMTs put an oxygen mask over Derek’s mouth and nose.

Mark shakes his head. “We were responding to reports of a disturbance, including one from the electric company saying that someone had been siphoning power.”

“And you needed four deputies for that?” Noah asks skeptically.

“Sure, if the hunters were still here,” Mark replies. “I didn’t want to take any chances. Shortly after we made entry, Tara and Derek started coughing, and Parrish thought there might be wolfsbane. We were in the process of evacuating when the entire wall went up in flames.”

Noah sighs heavily. “It was a trap.”

Mark nods. “They’re gunning for the whole department, sir. They couldn’t have known who would respond.”

Noah doesn’t argue. “I don’t disagree. Let’s see if we can pull any footage from nearby cameras, if there are any.”

“Sheriff, I think we should transport both of them to the hospital,” the paramedic says.

“I’m okay,” Tara protests.

Noah shakes his head. “You’ll go to the hospital and get checked out. I want everything documented. Everything.”

Derek realizes that Noah has every intention of building a case and subjecting the hunters to human justice for anything he can prove.

Then again, the premeditated attempted murder of four deputies has a possible sentence of life with the possibility of parole, even without permanent damage.

The paramedic nods. “You got it, Sheriff.”

Derek gives in, knowing when he’s beat. Tara acquiesces as well, and they’re soon on their way to the hospital. He’s actually feeling better by the time they arrive, probably because of the pure oxygen he’s breathing.

Hospital policy dictates that both he and Tara have to enter either on a gurney or in a wheelchair, and they both opt for a chair. He and Tara are placed in separate rooms, still on oxygen.

Derek allows the nurse to take his blood pressure and other vitals, and lies back on the bed. He really hates hospitals, and he would have preferred not to go, but he understands why Noah insisted.

He’s not sure how long he’s kept waiting after the nurse leaves before Dr. Ellie comes bustling in, wearing navy blue scrubs. “Not that I mind seeing your handsome face, but I would like to limit those occasions to when I stop by the house.”

“Would that I could,” Derek replies. “I’d have toughed it out, but the Sheriff wanted everything documented.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” she replies, sounding a bit amused. “I’ve already received my marching orders. Do you know what triggered the asthma attack, or was it just the smoke?”

Derek goes to pull the mask away, and Ellie says, “No, leave it on. You can answer questions while wearing it.”

Derek keeps his sigh internal. “It wasn’t just the smoke. I started feeling it before the fire started.”

“Any idea what it might have been?” Ellie asks.

Derek hitches his shoulder. “Probably the same thing we were exposed to at the house the other night when Stiles was attacked. It affected me the same way it did in the warehouse.”

Ellie nods. “I’ll check to see if the Sheriff has the report on that residue yet, and whether there’s a counteragent we need to use. Is the oxygen helping?”

Derek affirms that it is. “I’m probably good now.”

“Some toxins have a cumulative effect,” Ellie replies. “And if it’s aconite, there might be a treatment that we should use to prevent any long-lasting effects. So, just sit tight while I do some research.”

Derek knows that he doesn’t have a lot of options. Sure, he could take the oxygen mask off and leave the hospital, but he knows that would only result in Noah giving him a very disappointed look for not cooperating with the investigation.

So, Derek will stay right where he is.

~~~~~

Noah doesn’t require that his deputies tell him before they check out a report, especially for something minor like vandalism or a break in where there’s no known property damage or injury.

So, when he enters the station and finds that Mark and Tara have taken Derek and Parrish on patrol, Noah doesn’t think anything of it.

“Do you know what they were responding to?” Noah asks Maria.

“A couple of reports of a break in at an abandoned warehouse, plus a report from the electrical company about someone siphoning power,” Maria says promptly.

Noah can’t find any fault with that, so he says, “I’ll be in my office if someone needs me.”

Maria hesitates. “Can I ask how Stiles is, sir?”

Those at the station have been told that Stiles was attacked and badly injured, but Noah stayed light on the details. They’d also been warned to keep any discussion off the radio and to keep it to more private communications, if they had to talk about it at all.

Noah had strongly implied that they didn’t need to talk about it, and he would handle it.

“He’s going to be fine,” Noah replies. “He’ll be out of school until the doctor clears him to return, but we’re not spreading that around. Right now, the hunters don’t know anything about his condition, and I want to keep it that way.”

Maria nods quickly. “Of course, sir. I’ll keep it to myself. It’s just—we’re all rooting for him.”

“Thank you, Maria,” Noah replies. “I appreciate your discretion.”

Noah goes back to his office, and he’s settling down to work on paperwork when he feels a stab of alarm through the bond he has with Derek and Tara. Noah’s chest feels tight all of a sudden. The only time he’s ever felt this way was when he had a bad upper respiratory infection several years before.

Noah’s phone chimes with a text, and he grabs for it, suddenly certain that there are pack members in danger.

derek & tara in trouble hurry, Stiles’ text reads.

Noah gets up and heads to the bullpen, looking to see who else is in the station and on duty. “Maria, I need the address in the reports that Mark and Tara were investigating.”

Maria pulls up the report with a few key strokes. “It’s the same address for all of the calls. There were multiple.”

“Send it to me, and—who else is close to that area?” Noah asks.

“Rhonda isn’t far,” Maria says promptly, having anticipated Noah’s question. “I’ll send her that way.”

“Thank you,” Noah replies. “Be on standby to send the other services, too.”

Maria nods, her expression grim.

Noah puts on lights and sirens, and he’s halfway there when he feels heat, and he gets on the radio. “Maria, I need fire and EMS to that location.”

She has to know that he isn’t on scene yet, but she doesn’t ask any questions. “Yes, sir. I’ll send them.”

Noah can see the smoke and flames rising from the warehouse when he’s still a couple of blocks away, and the sirens from the fire truck join his. He parks as close as he can get, and then feels a tremendous relief when he spots his deputies. Mark and Parrish look a little ruffled, but uninjured, while Derek and Tara are clearly struggling to breathe, Derek worse than her.

An ambulance pulls up, and the EMTs immediately begin treating Derek and Tara for what probably looks like smoke inhalation.

Noah feels a wave of knowing crash over him. The hunters are targeting his pack—they’re targeting the kids, and they’re targeting his deputies. They don’t care if they kill humans along with the werewolves.

Furthermore, they’re not coming at him head-on. They’re fighting a war of attrition, and it’s luck alone that Noah hasn’t lost anyone yet.

Maybe they’re trying to provoke Noah into taking some sort of action that would get him killed, or justify their persecution.

But if that’s the case, Noah is going to be a massive disappointment. He’s going to prosecute these motherfuckers to the fullest extent of the law.

Noah is really good at that.

With that in mind, he orders Derek and Tara to undergo treatment, and he texts Ellie to make sure everything is well documented. He plans on getting Mark and Parrish’s statements as well, but first he wants to speak with them off the record.

His initial demand to know why Mark would bring three other deputies was probably a little too harsh in retrospect. Had Mark investigated by himself, or even if he’d only taken Derek, Noah thinks he would have lost at least one deputy, and maybe both.

Mark and Parrish are still standing there, watching the flames. Noah thinks he can see an orange glow in Parrish’s eyes, and he takes a deep breath. “Please tell me that you’re not going to spontaneously combust, Jordan.”

Parrish turns to look at him, and a faint smile forms. “No, sir. Being in an actual fire didn’t have that effect, so watching one shouldn’t either.”

“Are you guys in one piece?” Noah asks.

“It turns out that Parrish is really good at breaking a 20-foot fall,” Mark replies. “Otherwise, I’d probably have a couple of broken legs at least.”

“Not that you need an updated resume, but that’s not a bad thing to put down,” Noah jokes. “Run me through what happened, Rossi.”

Mark grimaces. “And that’s how I know I’m in trouble. The Sheriff uses my last name.”

“You’re not in trouble,” Noah says. “It was smart to bring as many people as you did. If you hadn’t, I’d be down at least one deputy, and maybe two. Just—tell me what happened.”

Mark starts delivering his report in the clipped, efficient manner that Noah has come to expect. Things get a little confusing about the time that the fire starts.

“Near as I can figure, they had it rigged, sir,” Mark says. “I didn’t hear anything go off, but we were inside the building and looking around when Tara and Derek started having trouble breathing. We turned to evacuate, and that entire side of the building went up in flames.”

Noah glances at Parrish, waiting for his commentary. “Anything to add?”

“I think I did hear a beep right before Derek and Tara started coughing,” Parrish offers. “That whole wall went up too fast to be anything other than an incendiary device. There are chemicals they could have used that would have sent the building up like a Roman candle.”

Noah glances at the burning building. “An apt description. How did you get out?”

“Upstairs window,” Parrish says. “I knew Derek and Tara could make the jump, and I figured I could at least break Mark’s fall and prevent serious damage.”

It hasn’t escaped Noah’s attention that the warehouse is the one the pack had been using as a diversionary tactic right after the contract killers had been murdering people.

“So, you think they were using the location to make a point,” Noah says.

Parrish smirks. “Yeah, and it backfired because I knew the layout and how to get out of that fucking trap. Sorry for the language, sir. It was a little intense.”

“It was very intense,” Mark comments. “Our language might have been a little blue.”

“I’ll excuse it,” Noah replies, with a smile. “Now, I want you both to get checked out—thoroughly, even if you don’t need it—and I want statements on my desk by the end of the day. Hopefully, these assholes left us some evidence we can use.”

Parrish shrugs. “We’ll get checked out. Pretty sure this means that the hunters have no idea what I am, though, sir.”

“That means we have a couple of aces in the hole,” Noah replies, and he’s grateful for that much. He’s also grateful that they’re in one piece.

Mark and Parrish take the two county vehicles to drive to the hospital, and Rhonda joins Noah at the scene. “This looks like a mess, sir.”

“It was a close call,” Noah replies. “Closer than I’d like.”

“Everyone make it out okay?” Rhonda asks. “I didn’t hear anything over the radio about injuries.”

“No injuries, although Derek and Tara had some smoke inhalation and are being treated. I sent Mark and Parrish to get checked out in an abundance of caution. We’re keeping things off the radio right now,” Noah replies. “We know they’ve been watching us, and I don’t want to offer up any information we don’t have to.”

Rhonda nods. “Got it. Are we sure that these are the same people behind shooting Derek and attacking your house?”

“Yeah, we’re pretty sure,” Noah replies. “If it’s not, we have two groups targeting the station and my family, and they don’t care who gets hurt in the process.”

“That much is obvious,” Rhonda comments sourly. “I always thought that arson was one of the stupidest crimes, because you don’t know who’s going to get hurt or how many.”

“You and I have that in common,” Noah replies. “All right, let’s make sure we don’t have too many looky-loos contaminating the scene. I’m going to talk to the fire captain.”

Rhonda nods. “I called Pete, too. He was on patrol, so he should be here shortly.”

“I appreciate that,” Noah says. “It’s going to be a big scene.”

The fire captain is shouting at some of his guys to direct the water higher to put out the leaping flames, and Noah waits for his attention patiently. Noah has known Rich Morgenstern for close to a decade now, and they’re fairly collegial.

Eventually, Rich turns to look at him. “Sorry, Noah. This fire isn’t cooperating. I heard you called it in.”

“We had reports of a possible vandal, maybe someone stealing power,” Noah says. “Deputy Rossi brought three other deputies, just based on the number of reports. They were inside when the place went up in flames. Deputy Parrish thnks they used an incendiary device.”

Rich frowns. “Parrish—isn’t that the same deputy who got set on fire by the contract killer and walked away?”

“That’s the one,” Noah admits. “He might be the luckiest son of a gun I’ve hired.”

Rich snorts. “Luckiest or unluckiest?”

“He got the other three deputies out without injury, so I’m going with lucky,” Noah replies.

Rich chuckles at that. “You make a good point. Well, I’ll do my best to preserve evidence, but putting out the fire has to be the priority, as you know.”

“I do know,” Noah says. “Thanks, Rich.”

Rich nods and turns back to the fire.

Noah leaves him be, and he goes to help Rhonda and a newly-arrived Pete to secure the scene. He has a quick word with both of them, saying, “Please keep an eye on anyone who shows up to watch the fire, and take pictures if you can—surreptitiously if at all possible.”

“You got it, sir,” Pete says.

Noah stays at the scene for another hour or so, until he’s sure the fire is contained, and can get an ETA on when the structure might be safe. Rich thinks probably sometime the next day, so Noah heads for the hospital.

He’s texted with Stiles a few times, letting him know that their pack members are safe, and he’s safe, too.

The pack bonds have told Stiles that much, but Noah knows that with this much going on, as many attacks that have occurred in such close succession, Stiles could use the actual reassurance of a text message.

And, on his way to the hospital, Noah puts the phone on speaker and calls his son.

“Hey, Dad,” Stiles says. “You’re not too busy, are you?”

“I just left the scene, and I’m on my way to the hospital to check on Derek and Tara,” Noah replies. “I’ll probably come home for a while after that, since we won’t be able to search the warehouse until tomorrow.”

“Sounds good,” Stiles replies.

“How’s your day going?” Noah asks. “You still feeling okay?”

Stiles blows out a breath. “Yeah. I was able to use the scrying bowl to do a true seeing, so I have some actionable intelligence. I probably shouldn’t say anything over the phone, though.”

“We’ll talk when I get home,” Noah says after a pause. “But Stiles, the plan is to put them in jail, so any information you give me would need to be corroborated.”

“I get it, Dad,” Stile says. “And I’m a big fan of the idea of chucking them in a deep, dark hole. I think what I’ve got might help you track them down, but I guess we’ll see.”

Noah takes a breath. “Okay, I’m at the hospital now. I’m sending Derek home, probably with Parrish to watch his back.”

“I think Parrish might be the pack’s lucky charm,” Stiles comments.

Noah chuckles at that. “You might be right. Let’s be grateful that Derek made friends with him when he did.”

“All right, I should get back to my homework,” Stiles says. “See you later, Dad.”

Noah pulls into a parking space in the visitor section, and heads inside to find his deputies. Mark and Parrish are in the ER waiting area, and Mark says, “We’ve been cleared, and we’ve signed the forms to have the records released to the department. My wife is chomping at the bit to see me in person, though.”

“Go on, get out of here,” Noah replies. “And send her my apologies.”

“She accepts really good chocolate,” Mark jokes. “I’ve got the flowers and wine covered already.”

Noah laughs. “Okay, fair enough. Rest up tonight, and let me know if you’re going to need tomorrow off.”

Mark shakes his head. “All hands on deck, Sheriff. I’ll be there bright and early.”

Parrish gives him a look. “I’m not going home.”

“Since I was hoping that you’d see Derek home, and then stand guard tonight, I’m glad to hear that,” Noah replies, somewhat amused.

Parrish’s shoulders slump. “Of course, sir, I’m happy to do it.”

“Relax, Jordan,” Noah says. “At this point, I’m thinking you might be our lucky charm. That’s two disasters you’ve managed to avert.”

Parrish blushes right down to his roots. “I don’t know about that, Sheriff.”

“Doesn’t matter if you know or don’t know, because I do,” Noah replies. “I’m going to check on Tara and Derek if you want to wait here.”

Parrish nods and takes a seat in the waiting room. Noah doesn’t have to ask where Derek is; he just follows the bond back to one of the ER bays where they keep patients while they figure out whether they’re going to be admitted or sent home.

Derek is still wearing an oxygen mask, and Ellie is entering something in his chart.

“Hey, doc,” Noah says as he enters.

Ellie glances over at him with a smile, then turns to Derek. “Are you okay if I share some details with Noah?”

Derek shrugs. “Yeah, that’s fine. It has to be documented for the case anyway.”

Ellie nods. “All right. We think that Derek was exposed to aerosolized wolfsbane twice in a short period of time. The residue in the device used at your house has been confirmed to contain aconite. Obviously, we don’t have confirmation about what might have been used in the warehouse today, but the symptoms were the same, so we can make a reasonable assumption.”

Noah grants that. “Is there any treatment for that?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing specific, but the pure oxygen seems to be helping. I’d like to keep Derek here a little while longer.”

“As long as you think he should be here,” Noah says.

Derek clearly wants to protest, but he doesn’t make a peep.

“Just a couple of hours more,” Ellie says, patting Derek on the shin. “Are you breathing easier?”

Derek grimaces but nods. “Yeah.”

“Then listen to your doctor,” Ellie replies. “Did you want to see Tara next?”

“I would,” Noah says, and he pats Derek on the shoulder. “Just rest easy, Derek. We probably should have insisted on bringing you to the hospital after the first time.”

Derek shakes his head, but he leaves the mask where it is when he says, “Stiles needed more help.”

“Just because Stiles needed more help doesn’t mean that you didn’t need any,” Noah counters. “So, I’m sorry about that.”

Derek shrugs but lets it go. Noah follows Ellie next door to where Tara is ensconced in a bed, although she isn’t on oxygen.

“Feeling better?” Noah asks.

“About a hundred percent,” Tara says cheerfully, no sign of strain in her voice. “After an hour on the oxygen, the elephant on my chest got up and wandered off.”

“Deputy Graeme seemed to be less affected than Deputy Hale,” Ellie confirms. “I think it was the double dose he got.”

Tara frowns. “He’s going to be okay, right? He sounded better.”

“We’re going to keep him a little longer, but you’re free to go,” Ellie replies.

“I just need you to sign the release so the department can get your records,” Noah adds. “Parrish is going to stay here and give Derek a ride home when he’s released, but I’m happy to drive you.”

Tara nods. “I’ll take the ride, sir. Thank you.”

Noah stops in Derek’s room to let him know that Parrish is sticking around, and he says, “I know you’re going to tell me that you’re fine, but before you show up to your shift tomorrow, I’m going to really need you to think about whether you’re going to be a help or a hindrance.”

Derek nods. “Yes, sir. I will.”

“Okay, good,” Noah says. “Do you want me to send Parrish back to keep you company?”

Derek hesitates. “Yeah, I do.”

“Then that’s what I’ll do,” Noah promises.

Tara has followed him, and she also pats Derek on the shoulder. “Sorry we couldn’t spring you. Feel better.”

“Glad you’re already feeling better,” Derek replies, his voice slightly muffled by the mask. There’s a teasing light in his eyes as he adds, “Having to go to the pack house right now would probably send you right over the edge, huh?”

“Fuck you very much, Derek,” Tara says with a grin. “You’d have been freaking out in my shoes, and Paul was low key panicking.”

Derek’s shit-eating grin is only partly obscured. “Dave wasn’t.”

“Dave is insane,” Tara counters.

Noah laughs at that. “Maybe, but it’s a good kind of crazy. Come on. You can tell me what freaked you out so badly.”

He leads the way to his vehicle, and waits until she’s settled in the passenger seat. “You know I’m your Alpha, and this is your pack, but we’re not asking more than what you want to give.”

“Damn, I wish you didn’t see things so clearly sometimes,” Tara mutters. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Always,” Noah replies.

“I love every single one of those kids,” Tara admits. “And I don’t want to be responsible for any of them.”

Noah laughs. “The great thing about teenagers is that they’re mostly responsible for themselves.”

“No, I want it in my contract that I won’t be responsible for any of them at any point in time,” she insists. “Because you know it doesn’t stop at them, right? Eventually, some of them will have kids, and you’ll be a grandfather. If all of them have kids, you’ll have a whole passel.”

Noah laughs. “’Passel?’”

“It’s a word,” Tara defends.

“Never said it wasn’t,” Noah replies. “And yes, I’ll guarantee that you won’t wind up responsible for any of the kids at any point in time. You can be responsible for scaring anyone straight who might need it.”

“It’s a deal,” Tara agrees. “Not that I’m mad you saved my life, sir, but I’m not sure I would have agreed to this if I’d known all the ramifications.”

Noah laughs. “It’s not that bad.”

“You don’t know how fervently I did not want children,” Tara comments dryly.

“Look at the bright side,” Noah says. “You get to be the scary aunt who can either threaten to hide their bodies or help them hide a body, depending on how you feel about them at any given point in time.”

Tara gives him a look. “Without actually being responsible for any of them.”

“Without the responsibility,” Noah confirms.

“You have a deal,” Tara says. “Although, in all honesty, it’s been kind of fun. I don’t mind that much, it’s just—”

“You got a bit freaked out,” Noah says. “Yeah, I get it. I’m not sure I would have signed up for this had I known just how crazy it would get.”

Tara outright laughs at him. “You’d do the same thing all over again, Noah. You love this shit.”

“I could have done without my kid being in a coma, but you may have a point otherwise,” Noah admits.

“Come on,” Tara says. “You’re also a bit of a control freak, and you wouldn’t want anyone else in charge of the pack.”

“I like to think me being in charge has helped a few people,” Noah says modestly.

Tara snorts. “You know how much I like Derek, but he would have been flailing.”

“He was flailing,” Noah replies as he pulls up in front of Tara’s house. “You need anything?”

Tara shakes her head. “No, I should have everything. Thanks for the ride and the reassurance.”

“Any time,” Noah replies.

He radios the station as he leaves and gets Maria. “I’m heading home for a while, Maria. I’ll probably be back in tonight.”

“Yes, sir,” she says. “Just so you know, Amber called in sick, so I’ll be staying. My mom is watching Rosa.”

“You sure you don’t mind?” Noah asks. “I can try to find someone else.”

“You’re short-handed as it is, Sheriff,” Maria says. “I don’t mind the overtime. Rosa’s birthday is coming up.”

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

It’s a little bit of a relief to be heading home, to know that he’s going to see his kid, and whoever else happens to be at the house.

Of course, as he’s thinking just that on the long drive up to the house, Noah feels a jolt as the tires blow, and it’s only his experience that allows him to keep his vehicle on the road.

“Motherfucker,” Noah swears. He hears muffled popping and the ping of bullets against the metal of his vehicle.

Noah can’t allow himself to be shot or taken, he just can’t, and his brain goes into overdrive in the few seconds where he’s trying to figure out his next move.

He’s quick on two legs, but faster on four, and Noah doesn’t think they’ll be expecting the full transformation.

At least, he hopes not.

~~~~~

Stiles is reading his history textbook and formulating his thesis for a paper on the electoral college when he feels it. The renewed bonds are mostly a pleasant background hum until they’re not.

He felt it when Derek and Tara were exposed to the wolfsbane, and also when they escaped. Stiles had known when school got out, and who was heading to their after-school jobs or practice, and who was heading to the house.

Malia and Cora are heading home, and Stiles pulls the tub of cookies Moira has made out of the freezer, because he knows they’re going to want them.

They make a beeline for the kitchen, where he’s working on his homework, and Cora gives him a quick hug, even though she’s not usually a hugger. “How are you feeling?”

Stiles figures he’s going to get tired of people asking him that, but it’s too soon to say anything. “I’m good. I might have a little bit of cabin fever, but I’ll survive. Obviously.”

Malia grabs a cookie and takes a healthy bite. “What happened with Derek earlier?”

“Wolfsbane trap,” Stiles says. “He escaped, and—” Stiles frowns, thinking about it. “He’s sucking down oxygen right now. He’ll be fine.”

“I kind of love this new thing you have going on,” Cora says. “With the bonds. Because I know that you’ll know what’s really going on with Derek.”

“At least for now, sure,” Stiles says. “I have no idea if it will last, but we’ll be grateful while it does.”

Malia sits down next to him. “What the hell are we going to do, Stiles? About the hunters.”

Stiles takes a deep breath and says, “I think I might need to figure out how to do the sanctuary spell even though I’ve never done one before, but I might need the whole pack. And the coven.”

“I’m in,” Cora says cheerfully. “Whatever you need.”

“Thanks,” Stiles replies. “I guess we’ll see. I’m not sure I can even do it.”

Cora shrugs. “If anyone can figure it out, it’s you.”

Stiles appreciates the faith, but maybe not the pressure. He feels as though he’s already pulled a few miracles out of his hat, and he’s not sure how many he has left.

Moira enters the kitchen as they start on their homework, looking refreshed. She’d announced her intention to visit Noelani that afternoon, and Stiles would never ask what she’d been up to, but she looks the better for it.

“What would everyone like for dinner tonight?” Moira asks. “I’m feeling the urge to cook.”

“Whatever you want to make is fine,” Stiles says easily.

Moira hums under her breath. “Let’s see what’s here, because I’m honestly not sure what we have at this point.”

Stiles figures the last week or so—or more—has discombobulated all of them.

Moira rummages through the cupboard and the fridge, and she starts pulling things out. “How does lasagna sound?”

“Sounds great,” Stiles says. “Which one are you making?”

“Looks like we have everything we need for the sausage and mozzarella one,” Moira replies.

Stiles loves that recipe. “That sounds awesome.”

“Good,” Moira replies. “It should make enough for anyone who turns up for dinner.”

Stiles relaxes into the feeling of being home with his pack. Moira insists that she doesn’t need help, and so she putters around the kitchen, soaking the lasagna noodles in hot water, starting the sauce simmering, and shredding the cheese.

The sounds fade into the background as Stiles works through his calculus problems. Malia and Cora are working on their own assignments, and Batman is sleeping on the floor under Stiles’ bar stool.

Moira has the lasagna in the oven when Stiles feels the bond he has with his dad ping with his approach. It’s a relief to know his dad is on his way home, but that doesn’t last long.

Stiles feels a spike of alarm through the bond, and when he closes his eyes, he can see what’s happening through the ley lines. Bullets are flying, and his dad’s car goes off the side of the road, coming to a stop between two trees. His dad dives out the passenger side door and lands on four paws.

When Stiles opens his eyes, Coar and Malia are staring at him, and he knows that they felt the same alarm. “What are we going to do?” Malia immediately demands.

Moira has been chopping up celery and carrots to serve alongside the lasagna, and she asks, “What did you see just now, mo chroi?”

“The hunters attacked my dad,” Stiles says. “I can’t leave him out there without any backup.”

Moira frowns. “Your father won’t thank you for putting yourself at risk.”

Stiles just looks at her helplessly, because his dad is out in the Preserve right now with hunters bearing down on his position.

Moira raises her eyebrows. “How did you capture Theo and Becky?”

Stiles frowns. “Yeah, but I was close, and they were right here.”

“You’re in the Nemeton’s territory, and you have a rather close relationship at this point,” Moira counters, her blue eyes boring into his. “You can take action from right here.”

Stiles understands that she doesn’t want to let him go into danger, but he’s not sure he has a choice. In the silence of that moment, his cell phone rings, and Stiles picks it up when he sees Dave’s name on the caller ID.

“Do you know where he is?” Dave demands.

“Yeah, I do,” Stiles says. “Are you close?”

Dave pauses. “Ten minutes, tops. Is there anything you can do?”

“Malia and Cora are with me, and Moira would prefer that I not go anywhere,” Stiles replies.

“I think we all would, kid,” Dave replies. “Is the Sheriff anywhere close to the house?”

Stiles hesitates. “No, he’s closer to the Nemeton. I think—I think I can direct him there through the bond. Same with you and Paul.”

“Do that,” Dave replies.

Stiles turns to Moira. “I need to be outside for this.”

Moira looks at the girls. “You two—you’ll stand guard, make sure they’re not attacking the house again.”

Cora looks hesitant. “Are you sure there’s nothing else we can do?”

Moira shakes her head. “It’s too risky. Better to have you here in case they attack again. Right now, it seems like they’re trying to pick off pack members.”

Stiles heads outside without another word, knowing that time is of the essence, Moira and the girls on his heels. Batman shoves his head under Stiles’ hand as he heads for the ritual space.

“Yeah, good idea,” Stiles mutters. “Because I’m trying really fucking hard not to have a panic attack right now.”

Batman whines, and Stiles strokes his ears as he sits down. Moira sits across from him and says, “I know you want to be out there, Stiles, but Dave and Paul won’t be able to focus on your dad if they know you’re out there, too.”

She has a point, and the same could be said for Cora and Malia. Maybe the adults of the pack would let them participate if given no other choice, but if there’s another option, they’re going to take it.

Besides, Stiles knows how to make the earth work for him.

Cora and Malia take up positions outside the ritual circle, facing out to the Preserve, fangs and claws out.

Stiles closes his eyes, reaching for his magic, which necessarily means reaching for the Nemeton. He feels Moira’s magic as she lends her strength and wisdom, and maybe he’s now inextricably tied to this territory, but something about that feels almost inevitable.

He feels the telluric currents and follows them, looking for a disturbance. He can feel his dad, and he’s getting closer and closer to the Nemeton. Dave and Paul have entered the Preserve, and they’re heading unerringly towards the same location.

His dad is still on four paws, moving through the trees swiftly, trying to stay under shelter. Stiles sends a nudge through the bond to all three, urging them towards the Nemeton. Once he’s certain they’re moving in the right direction, Stiles turns his attention to the hunters.

He senses them, and there are five. At least, he thinks they’re hunters; they’re human, and he doesn’t recognize them. Stiles makes a note to be gentle just in case.

They’ve spread out, the better to hunt his dad down, Stiles assumes. That should make it easier for him to pick them off.

“I can sense them,” Moira murmurs. “Start with the ones on the periphery.”

Stiles nods without opening his eyes. “Got it.”

There’s one who’s on the very edge of the group, wearing black tactical gear and a balaclava pulled over their face. Stiles sends a tree root snaking out to wrap around an ankle. He falls on his face with a soft thud, and another root wraps around his neck, pinning them to the ground, and a third goes around his mouth, muffling any cries.

Stiles feels a grim sense of satisfaction, then moves on to the next, on the other side of the group.

The next one goes down just as easily, and Stiles moves on to the third, but that one lets out a shout of alarm. In one sense, that’s no bad thing, because the other two hunters converge on that location, rather than continuing to chase his dad.

The tree root that had tripped the third hunter is snaking around his leg, and another hunter starts chopping at it with a knife. Stiles sends a burst of magic, vines and roots erupting from the earth around them, wrapping around whatever limbs they touch.

Stiles is about to breathe a sigh of relief, when one of the hunters pulls out a plastic baggie full of powder, ripping it open with their teeth, and tossing it in the air.

The slight breeze disperses the powder, and every piece of plant matter it touches starts to wither.

“Son of a bitch,” Stiles swears. “What the fuck was that?”

“A defoliant of some kind,” Moira replies. “They probably talked to Becky, but you’ve slowed them down.”

Stiles senses that Tara has also entered the Preserve, and so has Derek. Derek probably shouldn’t be anywhere near there, but Stiles nudges both of them towards the Nemeton.

His dad’s deputies are converging on his location, and Stiles has managed to slow the hunters down a bit. He supposes he’ll have to be grateful for that much.

~~~~~

Derek is signing his discharge paperwork under Parrish’s watchful gaze when he feels a spike of alarm run through the pack bonds. Noah has been attacked on his way home, run off the road and under fire while on four paws.

He scribbles his signature and says, “I have to go.”

“You need a wheelchair,” the nurse says. “If you’ll just wait a moment—”

“Yeah, I don’t have time for that,” Derek replies abruptly. “I’m sorry, but I don’t.”

“I’ll walk him out,” Parrish says, and follows in his wake as Derek leaves the hospital at a quick pace.

His lungs are feeling better, his breathing still a little bit restricted, but he’s not going to sit back and do nothing while Noah is under attack.

“I’m driving,” Parrish says. “Lights and sirens?”

Derek shakes his head. “The hunters attacked the Sheriff on his way home, and they’re in the Preserve now.”

“Who else knows?” Parrish asks as he backs out of the parking spot, putting on some speed.

Derek closes his eyes. “Not sure, but the concern is reverberating through the pack bonds, so I’m guessing everyone.”

“Text Dave,” Parrish orders. “Make sure.”

Derek sends a text to Dave, who quickly responds, Paul and I are on our way. Stiles knows and is going to lead us there with magic. It’s handled.

Derek mutters, “Fuck that noise.” He texts back, Parrish and I are on our way.

He knows why Dave hasn’t contacted him. The word would have gone out that Derek was being treated at the hospital with Parrish to keep an eye on him. But Derek has a duty to his Alpha.

He doesn’t get a response, and Derek hopes that means they’re focused on finding the Sheriff.

“Where are we heading?” Parrish asks.

Derek already knows where they’re going; he doesn’t even have to think about it. In a way, it feels a bit like the compulsion Stiles used to get him away from the darach, and to come home. “The Nemeton.”

“Magic,” Parrish mutters. “You think Stiles will be able to do anything?”

“I think he’ll do everything he can,” Derek says. “That’s his dad.”

Derek directs Parrish to the trail head he knows is closest to the Nemeton. Dave’s Subaru is already parked there, and they get out of Parrish’s truck.

“This way,” Derek says.

“Oh, I feel it,” Parrish mutters, his eyes starting to glow orange. “These hunters are coming perilously close to exposing us.”

Derek really wants to transform into his fur, but he doesn’t think that Parrish will be able to keep up. Running is a little harder than it usually is, but he ignores that fact. He loosens his weapon in its holster, still wearing the same soot-stained uniform he started the day in.

Derek catches a glimpse of a black-clad figure on the edge of the clearing, and he calls out, “Stop! Beacon Hills Sheriff!”

The man turns, a gun in his hands, and he starts firing at them.

Now that Derek has clearly announced that he’s law enforcement, there’s no problem with him shooting back.

The hunter is wearing Kevlar, but four shots to center mass is going to punch the air right out of his lungs, especially at this distance.

The man goes down, and Derek quickly disarms him. Someone else starts firing at them, and Derek throws himself on the ground, then scrambles to take cover behind a tree.

Derek knows they’re probably using wolfsbane bullets, and he doesn’t want to deal with that a third time.

Parrish takes shelter behind another tree nearby, and he looks over at Derek, “What’s the plan here, Hale?”

Derek has no idea. They need to find the Sheriff, and Derek isn’t sure where he is, just that he’s close, and the same is true for Dave and Paul.

He closes his eyes briefly, trying to formulate a plan, and he hears swift-moving footsteps coming up on his hiding spot. Derek reaches for his gun, but Tara is suddenly there, putting her hand over his.

“Easy,” Tara says. “I’m looking for the Sheriff, too. You were right about the bond being handy.”

Derek is happy to turn things over to someone with more experience. “What do we do?”

“We find the Sheriff, and we take these assholes down,” Tara replies. “It will be easier if we’re on paws. Go for the hamstrings. Parrish, light yourself up. Seeing someone on fire is going to really freak them out.”

Parrish’s teeth flash white in the darkness. “Good idea.”

Derek doesn’t have a problem with that plan. Being in his fur to take down the hunters feels a little bit like poetic justice. He just nods at Tara, and between one breath and another transforms.

He immediately understands Tara’s plan; his sense of smell is more acute, and provides him with that much more information. He can smell the gun oil and aconite he’s come to associate with hunters, and hear their heartbeats. He can also pinpoint Noah’s location.

One of the hunters approaches, and Derek stays low to the ground until they’re close enough for him to close the distance with a single bound.

He takes Tara’s advice, staying low as he sinks his teeth into the back of a leg, then ripping.

The hunter lets out an inarticulate cry of pain, and Derek does the same thing to the other leg.

Derek hears more shouting, and he lifts his head to see Parrish engulfed in flames. The commotion causes the other hunters to converge on their location, and Tara hamstrings another hunter.

Then Noah appears, also in his fur, tackling a hunter and snapping his jaws around a wrist, causing them to drop their gun.

Dave and Paul enter the clearing on a run, guns drawn, shouting for the hunters to put down their weapons.

One of the remaining hunters throws down his weapon, but the other two start to run away.

Derek starts after one, but the hunter turns and fires at Derek indiscriminately. He’s stymied in his pursuit, not wanting to get shot.

He follows a little more slowly, staying far enough away to avoid getting shot. Eventually, though, the trail goes cold when Derek exits the Preserve in an empty parking area.

Derek transforms back and senses someone approaching from behind. “They get away?” Tara asks, also back in human form.

“Yeah, I didn’t want to get shot,” Derek admits.

“Better to be safe than have you get hit again,” Tara replies. “We have three of them in custody, at least, and everyone is in one piece—other than the hunters.”

“Do we need to call for medical?” Derek asks, beginning to follow Tara back into the Preserve.

“Paul already did,” Tara says. “And you should be heading home, not running around out here.”

“When the Sheriff sends me home, I’ll go,” Derek counters. “But I wasn’t going to let them kill my Alpha.”

Tara pats him on the shoulder. “I know. I get it.”

They reach the clearing, and Dave and Paul have the cuffs on two hunters, while a third—the one Derek hamstrung—is on the ground quietly moaning.

Noah is on the phone, and Derek would guess he’s talking to Stiles given what he can hear. “Yeah, we’re okay, but we didn’t get them all, kiddo. I need you to stay put and be safe.”

He glances at Derek and adds, “I’m sending Derek and Parrish to the house.” Noah pauses. “I will. Thanks, Stiles.”

Noah hands the phone to Dave. “I appreciate the loan.”

“Any time, sir,” Dave says easily.

Noah turns to Derek. “I appreciate why you’re here, but you should be resting.”

Derek shrugs. “The pack bonds are pretty strong right now.”

“I feel them,” Noah says dryly. “Tara, the same goes for you.”

Tara smirks. “Just be glad the kids didn’t show up.”

“Cora and Malia were standing guard over Stiles and Moira while Stiles worked his magic,” Noah says. “He was able to slow them down at least.”

Paul frowns. “There are still more out there.”

“That’s a problem for another day,” Noah replies. “Derek, Parrish, I’ll get your statements tomorrow.”

Derek keeps his voice low as he asks, “What the hell are we going to put in our reports?”

“Let me worry about that for now, and we can talk about it later,” Noah replies.

Derek is happy to let Noah figure that out. “Yes, sir.”

“Go on,” Noah replies. “Get some rest. It’s been quite the day for both of you.”

Derek follows Parrish back to where they left the vehicle, and it feels as though each of his feet weigh about a hundred pounds, that’s how tired he is.

“What do you think the Sheriff will come up with, as far as stories go?” Parrish asks quietly.

“Wild dogs or maybe another pet wolf?” Derek asks. “That’s how they explained what Peter did.”

Parrish just shakes his head. He had managed to keep the fire to his torso, so his pants are intact, but his chest is bare. “I guess I can light myself on fire. It makes sense that we’d have to come up with some creative reports.”

Derek wonders if other sheriff departments in the know with the supernatural have to do the same thing. Maybe, when he sees Sheriff Morrison again, he’ll ask her.

They’re not far from the house, so it only takes a few minutes for Parrish to make the drive.

Derek glances at the clock, and he’s actually shocked that it’s only seven. “How is it not midnight?”

“Long day,” Parrish comments. “And a lot happened.”

“Yeah,” Derek replies, leaning his head against the passenger window, gathering his strength to get out of the truck.

When they enter the house, Derek is immediately hit with the scent of something delicious.

Stiles meets them at the door, giving them both a once-over. “The lasagna will keep if you guys want to get cleaned up.”

“I could definitely eat, and we could both stand a shower,” Parrish says enthusiastically. He pauses. “But Derek first.”

“Fuck you,” Derek says half-heartedly.

Stiles barks a laugh at that. “Yeah, and he’s not wrong.”

“Where’s the rest of the pack?” Derek asks. “I’d have thought they’d be here.”

Stiles shakes his head. “They’re holed up at Scott’s house just in case. Between the fire this morning and the attack on Dad, we thought it was for the best. I mean, if the hunters have been watching us—and we know they have—they’ll know where Scott lives. At the same time, though, people don’t usually hole up there, so that might confuse things.”

“Smart,” Parrish comments, then nudges Derek towards the stairs. “Sooner you get cleaned up, the sooner you can eat—and the sooner you can sleep.”

Derek allows himself to be nudged. He can feel himself relax, and he’s glad to be home.

They might not be completely safe, but nowhere is.

~~~~~

Noah watches as they load the hunter with the broken arm into the ambulance, and Paul climbs in after him. The other two had already been transported with Tara as an escort for one in an ambulance, and Dave taking another directly to the hospital.

Cindy and Pete had come to the scene without being asked, because there are still at least two hunters at large, and probably more.

“Was there some sort of wild animal?” Cindy asks. “Because it looked like he got attacked by a dog.”

“It wouldn’t be a first for Beacon Hills,” Noah comments. “But things got pretty confused there what with all the shooting.”

It’s a dodge, but Noah has gotten very creative in his report writing. Besides, the hunters can talk about a pack of wild dogs if they want, and they’ll either sound crazy, or Noah will make empty promises about calling animal control.

Pete snorts. “We never did catch that wolf Peter Hale was using as a murder weapon. It might still be out there. Maybe it developed a taste for people running around the woods with guns playing at being soldiers.”

Noah actually laughs at that. “Now, there’s an interesting theory.”

“If we’re done here, I’ll ride back to the station with you,” Cindy says firmly.

Noah gives her a look. “I don’t need to be managed.”

“Sheriff, you were attacked on your way home,” Cindy says, her tone betraying the fact that she has young teenagers at home. She’s definitely managing him. “We can’t order you into protective custody, but we can do our best to make sure that you’re not alone.”

Noah sighs. “All right. You make a good point. I’d like to be able to go home to my kid when this is all over.”

They head for the vehicles, and Noah climbs into the passenger seat, happy to let Cindy drive. She’s competent, and typically works nights on patrol.

“How is Stiles?” Cindy asks as she heads back to the station.

“He’s fine,” Noah replies. “He’ll probably be climbing the walls in short order, but that’s a problem for the future.”

Cindy glances at him. “What happens if this goes on for much longer, sir?”

Noah shakes his head. “We’ll get warrants for their phones and dump the data. If we can figure out who coordinated the attack, maybe we can scoop them all up at once.”

“That’s a big if and an even bigger maybe,” Cindy points out.

Noah knows that she’s right about that. “We’ll do the best we can. Our best has always been good enough before.”

“And it’s all we can do,” Cindy mutters.

There’s really nothing Noah can say to that, since it’s the truth.

It takes a few hours before they get the warrants for the phone data for those they’d arrested in the Preserve. Once that’s done, Noah takes one of the other county vehicles that usually gets assigned to a deputy on patrol.

Being the sheriff comes with some perks, like being able to requisition a vehicle when he needs one. He’ll have to figure out whether his usual Jeep can be repaired, or if it’s totaled, but that’s a problem for tomorrow, once the sun comes up.

Noah pulls up in front of the house and parks, heading inside. He can hear the television and low voices in the den, and Stiles pokes his head out.

“Everything okay, Dad?” Stiles asks.

Noah nods. “Yeah, or as okay as they can be, all things considered. Everything good here?”

“Yeah, it’s just me and the girls,” Stiles says. “Moira went back to her place, and Derek and Parrish went up to bed. There’s lasagna left over, if you want it.”

Noah knows everyone else is safe, but he asks, “Where did everyone else wind up tonight?”

“Holed up at Scott’s,” Stiles explains. “It’s atypical, so we thought it might be a little safer if the hunters want to make another play.”

Noah sighs and rubs his eyes, hating that the kids even have to worry about that, but glad they’re being proactive. “All right. Thank you. I’m going to get changed, and then I will take that lasagna.”

“I’ll heat it up for you,” Stiles offers, heading for the kitchen with Batman sticking close by his side.

Noah goes back to the master bedroom and changes out of his uniform and into flannel pants and a clean t-shirt, wanting to put the events of day behind him, at least for the space of an evening.

Stiles has reheated a plate of lasagna, and it’s steaming on the counter when he emerges. “I can grab you a beer, too,” Stiles offers.

“That would be great, son,” he replies. “Five-star service.”

“I may have an ulterior motive,” Stiles admits as he pops the top off a bottle of beer.

Noah chuckles. “Well, at least you came right out and admitted it. What is it?”

Stiles sits at the bar and stares down at the counter, rubbing his thumb along one of the gray lines in the quartz. “I think I might be able to do the sanctuary spell with the help of the coven and the rest of the pack,” he admits.

Noah takes a bite of lasagna and chews thoughtfully. “What’s the price?”

Stiles shrugs. “I don’t know. I think I maybe already paid it.”

“By pouring your magic into the Nemeton,” Noah says.

Stiles nods. “Yeah, at least that’s what I think, but I can’t be sure. I also can’t be sure that I’ll be successful, or what the sanctuary spell will do. There’s a lot I don’t know.”

“I think that’s true of most people,” Noah says. “What do you know?”

“I know that we can’t keep fending off attack after attack,” Stiles says. “Eventually, someone is going to get through our defenses, no matter how many precautions we take.”

Noah hears a sound, and he glances over to see Cora and Malia standing in the doorway. “Come on in,” he says. “You’re part of the pack, so you’re involved, even if I wish you didn’t have to be.”

Malia sits down next to Noah. “Are you going to be able to catch them?”

Noah knows better than to lie. “I don’t know. We’re going to do our best, but that’s about all I can promise.”

Malia shrugs. “Thanks for being honest.”

Noah glances at Cora. “What do you think?”

“I think Stiles should do the spell,” Cora says. “Because I think it will work however Stiles and the weird tree want it to work.”

Stiles flushes. “We don’t know that for sure.”

“It’s better than doing nothing,” Malia argues. “I don’t know, maybe you could convince the weird tree to turn people who are threats bright orange. At least then we’d see them coming, and it would be pretty hard for them to hide.”

Stiles laughs at that, a lightness in his expression that’s been missing for a while. “Well, that’s an idea, and it would be really f—hilarious.”

Noah appreciates Stiles trying to curb his language. “I’d get a good laugh out of it.”

“I’ll work on that,” Stiles replies. “The coven is coming over tomorrow, and we can talk about it. Maybe Moira and Noelani will have some ideas—or Danny or Alana will.”

“I’m willing to take whatever help I can get at this point, as long as you’re not putting yourself in harm’s way,” Noah says. “Because I think we’ll be able to catch them the old-fashioned way given a little time.”

Stiles nods. “Yeah, we’ll go into it with all due consideration.”

“That’s all I ask,” Noah replies.

Cora pushes away from the counter. “I think I’m going to bed.”

“Same,” Malia agrees.

Cora puts an arm around Malia’s waist as they head upstairs, and Malia returns the favor. Noah supposes that they’re probably as close as sisters, and there have been times when Noah can’t help but think of Claudia. She wanted another child, had hoped for a girl, and she would have enjoyed having all the kids around.

Stiles smiles. “It’s nice, isn’t it? Having the girls around?”

Noah chuckles. “Yeah, it’s nice. Your mom would have loved it.”

“Yeah?” Stiles asks, sounding uncertain. “Sometimes, when I remember her, I don’t know how much of it is real, and how much I just want to be real.”

Noah blinks at that, feeling as though his heart is being squeezed by a giant fist. “I’m—to be honest, I don’t know what to say to that.”

Stiles shrugs. “I don’t know that there’s anything you can say.”

Noah wants to offer to let Stiles run his memories past him, but he’s well aware that there had been whole swathes of Stiles and Claudia’s time together that he hadn’t been around for.

“Well, if there is anything, you only have to ask,” Noah offers.

“Thanks, Dad,” Stiles says. “I think I’m going to head to bed, too.”

Noah frowns. “What was your ulterior motive?”

“I want to do the sanctuary spell, and it’s not without risks,” Stiles replies. “And I know how much you hate me putting myself at risk.”

Noah sighs. “Little bit, it’s true.”

“Love you, Pops,” Stiles says.

“Love you, too, kiddo,” Noah replies.

He finishes his lasagna and his beer, and then he heads to bed.

Noah is half-expecting to not sleep, or maybe even have nightmares, but he drops off immediately and sleeps deeply and well.

He wakes early the next morning when his alarm goes off, but he feels well rested. He grabs a quick shower to get cleaned up and knock the rest of the cobwebs off. When he goes to the kitchen, Derek and Parrish are already drinking coffee, both in uniform.

“Is there more for me?” Noah asks.

“Yes, sir,” Parrish says readily. “No one else is up yet, and we made a full pot.”

Noah has just about given up on Parrish calling him anything but sir, but there’s time. He seems to be burrowing into the pack more and more, and Noah is grateful for that fact.

Without Parrish, Noah doesn’t know that his pack would be intact, not after the last few weeks.

Noah pours a cup of coffee and asks, “How are you doing, Derek? You okay for your shift today?”

Derek nods. “I feel fine.”

“I’d feel better if you helped with the warrants and data gathering,” Noah says. “I’m hoping we can get into their phones, but that might be a little ambitious.”

Derek shrugs. “Sure. I don’t mind.”

Parrish looks at Noah expectantly, waiting for his assignment. “As for you, Parrish, I think you’re both ready to step out of Mark and Tara’s shadows. You can go with Derek to get the warrants signed, and help run the data, assuming we can get into their phones.”

“Have you thought about asking Alana for help?” Derek inquires.

“No, and that’s a good idea,” Noah admits. “I already have her working on background for Tamora Monroe, so we can just add this job to the tab I’m running up.”

“Is the department good for it?” Derek asks.

Noah shrugs. “I’ll make it work. We have to keep the paper trail as clean as possible.”

“What story are we going with for last night?” Parrish asks, sounding dubious.

“It’s really too bad that we never found the wolf-hybrid that Peter used in his murder spree,” Noah comments. “And who knows if there was more than one?”

Parrish blinks. “Are people going to believe that?”

“What’s the other option?” Noah asks. “Werewolves?”

Derek snorts. “You believed it.”

“I had the evidence right in front of me once I opened my eyes,” Noah counters. “But I don’t plan on flashing fang on national television any time soon.”

Parrish’s eyes glow orange. “I wouldn’t advise that, no.”

“It’s a tightrope we’re walking, but we can use the circumstances to our advantage,” Noah says. “Much as we did with Peter Hale and Kate Argent.”

Noah sometimes struggles to balance the need to protect the supernatural world with his duties as a law enforcement officer. He would like everything to be above board, but he also has to protect both the pack and the outside world.

They have to walk a very fine line, and Noah just hopes that he can stay on the right side of it.

“We’ll manage,” Derek says confidently. “Even if the right story just comes to us in the moment.”

They head into the station without seeing any of the kids, but Noah isn’t too surprised by that. It’s early, just barely past 6 am, but Noah wants an early start. Stiles doesn’t have to be up early, and the girls tend to cut things close.

Noah doesn’t care, as long as they make it to school on time, and so far, they always have.

He checks the warrants for the cell phone data, decides that they’re good to go, and sends Derek and Parrish off to get the judge to sign off. He’s glad he took Derek to meet Judge Wilson, because she likes to see a familiar face.

Noah has the reports from Dave and Paul to go over. All three of the hunters they captured have asked for a lawyer, so he calls and leaves a message for Jim Brogan, the DA.

Funny thing about shooting at a Sheriff’s vehicle, it leaves evidence behind. At the very least, it means that they can charge them with attempted murder, even if they eventually plead it down.

Noah is working through the preliminary reports when Brogan calls him back.

“What the hell is going on?” Brogan demands. “You got people shooting at the Sheriff now?”

“Apparently,” Noah replies. “Maybe they’re just degenerates. We’re still running backgrounds.”

“Well, I hate to say it, but they were smart and lawyered up,” Brogan says. “I read the reports, and we’ll hit them with both barrels as far as charges go. What we can’t have is people running around Beacon County thinking they can shoot at law enforcement.”

“I’m pretty sure there were five of them out there,” Noah admits. “I’m hoping the cell phone data will help us figure out who the other two are.”

Brogan asks, “You need any help greasing the wheels for the warrants?”

“No, I have Deputies Hale and Parrish getting a signature from Judge Wilson,” Noah replies.

There’s a moment’s hesitation, and Brogan says, “Anything you want to add to the reports? Seems a little odd for them to get savaged by wild animals while in the middle of attacking you.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Noah comments. “Maybe the wild animals like me.”

Brogan snorts. “It’s as good an explanation as any. I called the hospital, and they confirmed that the injuries could only have been caused by a large dog or maybe a wolf.”

“We don’t have wolves in California,” Noah says. “At least, that’s what I’ve heard.”

“Yeah, and we never found that wolf-hybrid Peter Hale was using to attack people,” Brogan replies. “Maybe there was more than just the one.”

“Could be,” Noah says, amused that Brogan is already floating the theory that they decided would best cover their tracks.

“How’s Stiles?” Brogan asks.

Noah hesitates. He’s not sure what Brogan has heard, but they’ve committed to keeping Stiles’ status a secret, hoping that it will draw the hunters out. Maybe it had the night before; maybe they thought he’d be vulnerable with Stiles down for the count.

“He’s got mono, but he’ll be fine,” Noah says.

Brogan hums. “Has Stiles ever considered going into law?”

“Now that you mention it, it’s come up,” Noah admits. “He’s not sure what’s going to be open to him given his service dog.”

“Let him know if he wants to see what a prosecutor does, I’ll make arrangements,” Brogan offers.

Noah smiles. “Thanks. I’ll pass that along.”

The call ends shortly after that, and Noah leans back in his chair, scrubbing his hands over his face.

A knock on the door precedes Derek poking his head into Noah’s office. “Judge Wilson signed off on the warrants, and Parrish is downloading the data now.”

Noah frowns. “They weren’t locked?”

“They had burner phones,” Derek replies. “From what we could see, there weren’t any saved contacts, just a group text with other phone numbers.”

Noah sighs. “All right. We’ll run the numbers anyway just in case they were dumb enough to hang onto their burners.”

Derek nods. “You got it.”

Noah’s phone rings after Derek leaves, and he picks up on the second ring. “Stilinski.”

“Sheriff, it’s Chris Argent.”

Noah is fairly certain he’d know that voice anywhere. “Mr. Argent. What can I do for you?”

“I know where my wife is,” Argent says bluntly. “But I want Allison completely out of it.”

“I’m not getting the information from her, am I?” Noah asks rhetorically.

Argent sighs, he thinks in relief. “Thank you. Victoria texted me, wanting money. She’s back in the States. I recorded the call, and I’ll send you the file.”

Noah frowns. “How do you know where she is?”

“Because I asked her where she wanted me to wire the money, and she gave me a specific Western Union office,” Argent replies. “I can’t guarantee she’ll be there precisely, but there’s a good chance.”

“Why didn’t you call the FBI?” Noah asks, mostly out of curiosity.

“I don’t have their direct number, and I figured you did,” Argent says. “Besides, I don’t mess with the feds if I can avoid it.”

“Fair,” Noah says. “Do you have the address?”

Argent rattles it off, and it’s an office in Chula Vista, which is obviously not within his jurisdiction, but Argent is correct. He has Agent Marsh’s direct number, and a good relationship with him.

“I’ll call it in,” Noah says. “I appreciate the information.”

Argent sighs. “The divorce hasn’t been finalized yet, but my daughter is the rightful head of the Argents as far as I’m concerned, and she’s made it clear that she has no interest in doing things her mother’s way.”

“Got it,” Noah replies, and he appreciates the heads up. Marital privilege would still apply, even after a divorce—at least for confidential conversations. But if Victoria tells him anything after the divorce is finalized, the privilege won’t apply. “How is Allison doing?”

“She’s been taking classes at the community college,” Argent replies. “She’s still on probation, but that’s going well.”

“I’m glad,” Noah says honestly. He’d rather salvage a kid who made a bad choice than have their future be ruined.

Argent sighs. “I do appreciate your professionalism through all this, Noah.”

“I’m just trying to do my best as the Sheriff and as a father,” Noah says. “I’m sure you’d say the same.”

Argent chuckles. “I haven’t always, but I’m trying.”

“Good luck,” Noah replies. “To both of you.”

“I’ll let you know if I hear anything else,” Argent promises. “I don’t think I will, since they know where I stand, but you never know.”

“And I appreciate that,” Noah replies. “Take care.”

“You, too,” Argent replies. “And look—if you need help taking care of the hunters, you can call me.”

There’s a part of Noah that would love to take him up on that offer, but the same rule applies to Argent as it had to Alana. Noah has to keep things as clean as he can. Either the hunters are going to prison, or they’ll face a different sort of justice.

And if it comes to that, Noah isn’t going to outsource his dirty work to anyone outside the pack.

“Thanks,” Noah replies. “I’ll let you know.”

Argent laughs, probably because he knows that means Noah is going to call him the day after never.

On the other hand, if things really go to hell, Stiles can call Argent. That would be an oddity, but his kid is known for his left-field ideas.

They say their goodbyes, and Noah puts down the receiver. He shakes his head thoughtfully.

If Chris Argent is offering to help a werewolf, Noah has to wonder just how much trouble this group is for the hunting world, at least the ones who aren’t out to kill all supernatural creatures.

His next phone call is to Marsh, and he’s surprised when he picks up right away. “Noah, I was just going to call you. We got word that Victoria Argent crossed the border again, but we lost her after that.”

“Chris Argent called me,” Noah replies. “Just got off the phone with him, in fact. He gave me the location of a Western Union where she’s expecting funds to be wired.”

“Do you have an address?” Marsh asks.

“I do,” Noah replies. “But there’s something else you should probably be aware of. I was attacked last night by five hunters. We took three into custody, but two are in the wind.”

There’s a long silence. “Give me the address for Victoria Argent so I can pass it off to the appropriate team, and then we can talk about this whole thing.”

Noah reads off the address for the Western Union, Marsh repeats it back to make sure it’s correct, and then he says, “Brief hold, and then I’ll be back with you.”

Noah is tempted to put his feet up on his desk, but he’s never done it before, and he refuses to start now. When he’s on the job, he’s on it, and he’s not going to give the impression of insouciance.

He’s on hold for a couple of minutes, but Noah just puts it on speaker and reviews some reports as he listens to the bland music.

Marsh comes back on and says, “All right. Let’s hear it, because that sounds like activity that could easily be a federal crime, depending on what other charges you tack on.”

“I can tell you what little we do know, but I couldn’t say whether or not they crossed state lines,” Noah admits.

He quickly gives a rundown of what happened, from the attack on the house and on Stiles, Stiles being unconscious for a few days, the fire that appeared to be a trap for his deputies, then the attack the previous night.

“We’re getting the information off their phones, or we’re going to try,” Noah finishes. “The three we caught all asked for a lawyer, so I doubt we’ll get much out of them. They were using burner phones, so I don’t know how much we’ll get off those.”

“You know you can send those to the FBI,” Marsh reminds him.

Noah thinks about the phones they seized from Becky and Theo Raeken. Those weren’t burners, and Becky is being held without bail since she’d attempted to poison a house full of kids—at least, that’s what she’s being charged with.

“I do have a couple of personal cell phones that were seized, and I think they might have been connected to both the attack on the house as well as the one last night,” Noah replies. “I’ll send those in.”

“How about I come pick them up?” Marsh asks. “I wouldn’t mind seeing Stiles again, see how he’s doing.”

Noah sees no reason to turn down the offer. Not only would that preserve the chain of custody, but as the previous night demonstrated, the hunters aren’t shy about hitting his vehicle. He doesn’t want to send any of his deputies and put them at risk.

That doesn’t leave them with a lot of good options, not when they have to keep doing the job of keeping Beacon Hills safe. Noah isn’t sure how they’re going to balance everything, but they’ll figure it out.

Still, having Marsh come to him helps considerably. “I’ll take you up on that, Abe. Thanks.”

“I can be there in a few days,” Marsh says. “I’ll give you a call when I have an ETA.”

“See you then,” Noah replies.

He leans back in his chair, and he has a bit of a sinking feeling. Even if they do wind up capturing Victoria Argent, this Tamora Monroe is a related threat. They know who she is, but not where she is, and unless the investigation turns up something they can charge her with, they can’t lock her up.

Noah thinks they’re looking at is an ongoing threat unless they can come up with a way to keep the hunters out of Beacon Hills.

~~~~~

Stiles is bored as hell. He would absolutely love to be in school, instead of confined to the house. He’s also worried about his dad and all of the deputies, because those motherfucking assholes have shown absolutely no hesitation in going after people who are human and tangentially related to the pack.

After all, Mark is human, and married with kids. Not that the hunters care about that. Just like they hadn’t cared who was in the house the night they tried to poison everyone. Maybe wolfsbane affects werewolves more than it does humans, but it would have killed anyone present just the same.

Thinking about it pisses Stiles off, so he’s trying really hard not to think about it.

He’s finding it hard to focus on the U.S. Government essay he’s supposed to be writing, and he pushes away from his desk.

Batman raises his head to look at Stiles, letting out an anxious whine.

“Do you need to go out?” Stiles asks.

Batman lets out a short bark.

“All right, come on,” Stiles says. “I could use a break and a soda anyway.”

Moira is in the kitchen when he comes down, stirring something on the stove.

“That smells good,” Stiles comments as he lets Batman out the backdoor.

“It’s going to be pork green chili when it’s done,” Moira replies. “The coven is going to be here this evening, so I wanted to make something that would feed a crowd.”

Stiles sits at the kitchen island and drums his fingers on the quartz. “I think we have to do the sanctuary spell.”

“That would be why the coven will be here tonight,” Moira says evenly. “We should talk about the risks, though.”

“The way I see it, the biggest risk is that my magic is even more bound up in the Nemeton than it already is,” Stiles replies.

Moira puts her spoon down and comes to sit down next to him. “We don’t know how to perform a sanctuary spell, Stiles. That’s been part of the problem with finding others who could help us with it.”

Stiles nods. “I know. And part of the problem is that those people didn’t want to pour their power into a project like this, whereas my power is already bound to a certain extent.”

“We don’t know how it’s going to work,” Moira points out. “Some of the sanctuaries in the past have essentially been closed towns.”

“I don’t want that,” Stiles says immediately. “I was thinking more turning people away who have specific intentions.”

Moira frowns in thought. “You mean, people who specifically want to harm the pack?”

Stiles nods. “Look, we think that the Hale spark is tied to the territory, and my magic is tied to the Nemeton at this point. We don’t want people coming here specifically to harm the pack.”

Moira hums. “Well, we could probably place a geas on anyone who tries. Let’s discuss it tonight, and we’ll need to talk to your dad and Derek, too. If the ritual winds up binding the Hale spark, they’re going to need to agree.”

Stiles can’t argue with that. “All right. I think—I think it will work better if it involves both the pack and the coven.”

“We’ll talk about that, too,” Moira promises. “Obviously, the pack would need to agree.”

Stiles nods. “Yeah, I know. Eyes wide open for everyone.”

“Okay,” Moira says. “After dinner.”

“Do you think it’s safe to go outside?” Stiles asks. “I’m going stir crazy in here.”

Moira hands him the same baseball hat that she enchanted for Parrish what seems like ages ago. “Put that on. They won’t be able to tell if it’s you or another male pack member.”

Stiles isn’t really one to wear hats, but he pulls it on without complaint and heads out the back door. He grabs a tennis ball from the basket that sits just outside and whistles for Batman.

Batman runs up, beginning to dance in place when he sees the ball. Stiles throws it, and Batman scrambles after.

Batman is great at bringing the ball back, probably because he knows that if he does, there’s a good chance Stiles will throw it again.

Stiles has no interest in going back inside until his arm is ready to fall off. He feels like he’s been cooped up forever, but it hasn’t been that long. Longer, if you count the time he was unconscious.

Eventually, Batman is the one to drop the ball and lie down, and Stiles laughs, sitting down next to him. “Yeah, I know, bud. I just needed to burn off some energy. Turns out that I had a lot to burn.”

He rubs Batman’s ears and sits by the firepit, feeling the cold begin to seep into his bones. He reaches for his magic, doing the warming spell that Moira taught him, and he’s comfortable again.

Stiles is still sitting there when Danny comes through the backdoor, taking the seat next to him. “Lookin’ good, Stiles. Glad to see you up and around.”

“Thanks,” Stiles says. “It’s good to see you, too. Good to be seen.”

Danny puts an arm around his shoulders and pulls him in for a hug. “Everything is going to be fine.”

“Even if I don’t have magic if I leave Beacon Hills?” Stiles mutters.

“I liked you just fine before you had magic,” Danny replies. “I’ll like you if you don’t have access to it when we’re both at Stanford.”

Stiles starts. “What do you mean?”

“Lydia might have let it slip that you were applying, plus you mentioned that you were debating between law and psychology,” Danny says. “Since Stanford has one of the best pre-law and psychology programs in the country, it’s kind of a no-brainer that it would be one of your top choices.”

Stiles shakes his head. “It’s stupid. I doubt I’ll get in.”

Danny stares at him. “Why wouldn’t you get in? You’re in the top ten percent of our class, Stiles, and you’ve been taking a bunch of AP classes. You’ve got judo and krav maga and an interesting story.”

Danny’s tone of voice indicates that he thinks Stiles is being stupid, and maybe he has a point. The thing is, the possibility of getting into Stanford is the first thing that’s felt as exciting as the idea of being in law enforcement.

And that means Stiles can’t quite believe that it’s possible, for fear of the disappointment if it doesn’t happen.

He can’t articulate any of that, though, and Danny sighs. “Look, I’ll believe enough for the both of us, okay? I hope you’re talking to your therapist about this.”

“I have an appointment tomorrow,” Stiles confirms. “That’s when he could fit me in.”

“You are going to talk to him about this,” Danny says.

That pulls a reluctant smile out of Stiles. “Yeah. I will.”

“Good, so when we’re both at Stanford, we should room together,” Danny says. “That way, Moira and Tutu only have to ward one space.”

“I’d drive you crazy in under a week,” Stiles predicts.

“Eh,” Danny says. “I doubt it. We’d have to work something out about sexiling each other, but we’ve shared magic. I know you.”

Stiles thinks about that, and he realizes Danny is right. They’ve shared magic, which binds them together just as tightly as the pack bonds bind Stiles to the other members of the pack.

“Okay,” Stiles says. “If we both end up at Stanford, we’ll room together.”

“When we’re at Stanford,” Danny corrects. “You gotta think positive to manifest it.”

Stiles snorts. “Come on.”

“You’re a spark,” Danny says. “So, it might work.”

“I’ll just stick to wishing and hoping,” Stiles says.

Danny gets to his feet and puts a hand out. “Come on. Moira said dinner was almost ready.”

Stiles takes the offered hand and allows Danny to pull him to his feet. “Thanks.”

“Any time,” Danny replies.

The scent of pork green chili fills the house when they step inside, and Stiles takes a deep breath as he takes his hat off.

“I have to say, that’s either pretty cool or pretty freaky,” Danny comments. “I didn’t want to say anything while we were outside, but you didn’t really look like yourself.”

“That’s kind of the point, boyo,” Moira says with a smile. “Lydia should be here shortly. I’ve asked the rest of the pack to make an appearance as well so we can have a meeting.”

Along with the vat of green chili, there’s a large pot of pinto beans and rice, as well as various toppings. Everyone loads up bowls and sits down around the large dining room table.

“Let’s eat before we begin the discussion,” Moira suggests. “We’ll think better on full stomachs.”

Stiles tries never to argue with Moira when she’s right, and his stomach is growling at him.

Lydia turns up when they’re about halfway through their meals, and she calls a greeting before grabbing her own food and sitting next to Stiles. “How are you feeling?”

“I might be starting to climb the walls,” Stiles admits.

“Well, hang in there,” Lydia murmurs. “Maybe we’ll have a solution after tonight.”

“From your lips to god’s ears,” Stiles replies.

Once everyone has eaten their fill, and they’ve put the leftovers away for any latecomers, they sit back down at the table.

“Stiles, do you know where the other pack members are?” Moira asks.

Stiles closes his eyes, thinking about it. “Cora, Erica, and Malia are at the library. Boyd, Isaac, and Scott are at work. Derek is still at the station with Dad. Dave and Paul are at home.”

“Neat trick,” Danny comments.

“It comes in handy when the hunters attack my dad,” Stiles says. “Or when I just want to know where everyone is.”

Moira clears her throat. “All right, Stiles, tell us everything the Nemeton told you about commingling your magic.”

Stiles frowns, trying to remember their entire conversation. “She said only the fact that I’d already poured so much magic into her allowed her to reach me, and that it was my magic that was keeping me bound. The only way to get out of it would be to pour all of my magic into the Nemeton. She also said that it could help fuel the sanctuary spell.”

“That’s frustratingly oblique,” Noelani mutters.

“She is a tree, and a young one at that,” Stiles points out. “At least, that’s what she kept telling me when I asked questions she couldn’t answer, like whether I’d be able to use my magic outside the territory or how big the territory was.”

Alana drums her fingers on the table. “It’s an interesting idea, but there are still plenty of people in Beacon Hills who don’t know about the supernatural and probably shouldn’t.”

Danny glances at Stiles. “I figure you probably have an idea.”

“Anyone with the specific intent to harm the pack gets turned around at the county line,” Stiles suggests. “It wouldn’t keep out the run-of-the-mill hunters, but it would turn away the wrong sort of people.”

“Namely those who have a specific intention of harming the pack,” Lydia says. “Which could include non-hunters.”

“I’m okay with that,” Stiles asserts. “If someone has a bad breakup or they try to get around it by hiring a contract killer, it will still stop them.”

“It would make Beacon Hills a true sanctuary town in that respect,” Danny says. “If we extended that protection to the coven, too, any member of the pack or the coven could come back here and find safety.”

Moira nods. “That’s how a sanctuary town is supposed to work, at the base of it.”

Noelani fingers the end of her braid. “The real question is whether we have sufficient power for that.”

“I think if we use the pack, we’ll have enough juice,” Stiles says. “And it would make it easier to include everyone in the protection. If we add people to the pack or the coven in the future, we can take them to the Nemeton and introduce them.”

Moira nods slowly. “We should probably decide on an auspicious time for it.”

“The full moon is in a few days,” Stiles says. “And Yule is coming up.”

“The full moon would be better,” Moira replies. “Since we’re tying it to the pack, and the full moon is when the pack is at its strongest.”

“So, we have a few days to prepare,” Noelani says briskly. “That will give us time to work out the ritual.”

The front door opens and his dad, Derek, and Parrish all walk inside. “Something smells good,” his dad says. “Are there any leftovers?”

“In the fridge,” Stiles replies. “There should be plenty for everyone.”

“We needed to talk to you and Derek anyway,” Moira adds.

“Let us get changed, and then we’ll talk,” Noah offers.

“Why don’t you go get some paper and something to write with?” Moira suggests, looking at Stiles. “We can begin to sketch out the ritual.”

“Yeah, sure,” Stiles replies, and heads up the stairs to his bedroom. He has a printer for his school work, so he grabs a few pieces of paper, as well as the markers he uses for his murder board.

Stiles brings all of that down to the dining room, and Moira spreads the paper out to form one larger piece. Stiles understands what Moira is going for, and he grabs the tape out of one of the kitchen drawers.

She tapes them together, and then tapes that to the table to keep it still. Moira uses a black marker to draw a large circle, then an outline of a tree.

“The trunk of the old Nemeton, and the new one,” Stiles says, pointing at each in turn.

Moira nods. “That’s right. I think we can build a call for justice into the ritual.”

“Against Deaton?” Stiles asks.

“Between the attack on you, and supplying the hunters with magical defoliant, I think we have grounds,” Moira says. “Or you have grounds. You can call on magic to pass judgment.”

“What’s the downside?” Stiles asks.

Moira shakes her head. “The worst that would happen is nothing. Magic decides Deaton hasn’t done enough to be worthy of judgment, and that part of the ritual just fizzles out.”

Stiles shrugs. “Okay, I guess it’s worth a shot unless we want to travel to Chicago and—do something about him there.”

“Let’s avoid that if at all possible,” Moira replies. “Although, if it comes down to it, Noelani and I will take care of him. We’ve bound someone’s magic before.”

His dad comes into the room, wearing jeans and a t-shirt, indicating that he’s off duty, but thinks he might get called outside for some reason. Derek and Parrish come down from upstairs, but they look like they’re dressed for bed.

“Should we put jeans on?” Derek asks.

Noah shakes his head. “No, I’m just not sure I’ll be sleeping tonight. If someone attacks the house, I’ll be ready.”

“You should still try to sleep, Noah,” Moira says chidingly.

His dad shrugs. “I’ll catch a nap on the couch.”

Stiles knows that tone of voice, and his dad isn’t going to be dissuaded. Then again, his dad has had some bullshit thrown at him in the last few weeks.

They heat up the food, and sit down at the table. In between bites, his dad asks, “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“We think the sanctuary spell might be our best option,” Moira says.

“Won’t that bind up Stiles’ magic that much more?” his dad objects.

Stiles shrugs. “Maybe, maybe not. But we can put a geas on anyone approaching Beacon Hills with an intent to harm someone in the pack or the coven.”

His dad chews thoughtfully. “Okay, I won’t deny that sounds good, and even helpful, but what’s the catch?”

“The catch is that it will probably bind the Hale spark to this territory, too,” Stiles says. “It’s not like you won’t be able to leave or anything like that, but—well. We don’t know what the actual effects are going to be.”

“Hell, Stiles, as long as I can still take you on your college visits, and maybe take an occasional vacation, I don’t care,” his dad says. “Assuming I don’t fuck something up terribly, I’ll probably be the sheriff here until I retire. Beacon Hills is my home.”

Derek shrugs. “This is my home, too, my territory. I’m not going anywhere else, and I don’t consider myself stuck.”

“The Hale spark is probably going to be tied to this territory forever,” Moira says gently. “If we do this.”

“Keeping the pack safe is worth any sacrifice,” Derek says firmly. “Not death, but anything up to that.” He looks at Stiles as he says it, and Stiles thinks that Derek understands his sacrifice better than just about anyone else.

“Yeah, I get it,” Stiles says. “Dad?”

“What Derek said,” his dad replies. “We’ll do it. Having some safety from these hunters is worth it.”

“All right, let’s talk about how we’re going to incorporate the pack into this ritual,” Moira says. “And no, it’s not going to involve dancing naked in the moonlight.”

“Good thing,” Danny mutters. “That is definitely not something I want to see.”

“It’s really only necessary for certain rituals, and this isn’t one of them,” Noelani says with a twinkle in her eye.

“And is usually reserved for—special rites,” Alana says. “At least within our own tradition.”

“But we’ll need to build this ritual on Stiles’ magic,” Moira continues. “Which is about belief more than anything else. We’ll include enough of those trappings to make it easier for all those involved to believe, but I think that will be sufficient.”

Parrish clears his throat. “What about the rest of the pack? Are they also going to be tied to this territory?”

Moira shakes her head. “The spark itself will be tied to this territory, but pack bonds are more or less flexible depending on the pack and the individual member. Some will need to stick close, but others could get by with occasional trips home. That would be true regardless.”

“We’ll have a pack meeting before the full moon,” his dad says firmly. “And we’ll put it to a vote, but I think this makes the most sense.”

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” Derek murmurs. “There were people in the Hale pack that we barely saw because they didn’t need much.”

Stiles frowns. “What happened to them after the fire?”

Derek grimaces but doesn’t respond.

Stiles figures he probably knows the answer to his question just by the silence.

“Okay, pack meeting before the full moon,” his dad says. “What else do you need from me, Moira?”

“We’ll go over that in more detail once we have the particulars of the ritual laid out, certainly before the pack meeting,” Moira replies. “If that works.”

His dad nods. “That works.”

Moira looks at Stiles. “Okay, Stiles, you’re leading this ritual. How would you structure it?”

Stiles feels a moment of panic, because he suddenly feels like he’s facing a final exam he hadn’t studied for. “Me? I’ve never done a sanctuary spell before.”

“But it’s your magic we’re basing the spell on, and your connection to the Nemeton,” Moira counters. “Trust your instincts, young spark. They won’t steer you wrong.”

Lydia grabs his hand under the table and says, “Relax, Stiles. It’s going to be fine.”

“Okay,” Stiles says, feeling it out. “I think—I think we have to build it on my magic and the Hale spark, and we focus it on the Nemeton. As long as the pack remembers that the Nemeton has to be protected, I think the magic in the Nemeton will fuel the sanctuary spell for decades.”

The Nemeton’s magic—and Stiles’. Stiles’ magic is also going to fuel the spell.

But Stiles doesn’t want to think about that right now. There’s no telling what the results will be, or if they’ll successfully manage the spell. Maybe nothing happens, and everything fizzles out.

Or maybe Stiles ends up so tied to the territory, he can’t leave.

It’s a risk he’ll have to take.

 

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