Reading Time: 61 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 5

Derek doesn’t love the idea of the ritual. To him, it sounds a lot like Stiles sacrificing his magic for the sake of the pack. Maybe he’ll have access to it while he’s at home, or at least close to home, but Derek has some idea of how integral Stiles’ magic has become to him.

Stiles giving up his magic would be akin to someone asking Derek to give up being a werewolf.

Still, he can’t fault Stiles for his willingness to make the sacrifice play. He just wishes the hunters would leave them alone and render the need unnecessary.

Derek heads up to bed along with Parrish, who’s sleeping in the guest room that night. “So, are you planning on moving in?”

Parrish snorts. “Maybe until we get through the full moon. I don’t think I’m as affected by the shit the hunters like to throw at you, and they don’t seem to know that. I figure I’ll stick close just in case.”

“Thanks,” Derek says after a pause. He still doesn’t know what he did to gain Parrish’s friendship, but he’s grateful for it.

“We’re pack, Derek,” Parrish says easily.

“So, you’ve decided to join the madhouse,” Derek comments.

Parrish pauses. “I still think it’s a little weird that my boss is also the pack-father, but I also like belonging to a family. Being in the service was a bit like that, but not to this level.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Derek says. “Like stepping into a ready-made family.”

“Younger siblings and all,” Parrish comments. “It doesn’t suck.”

“No, I guess it doesn’t,” Derek agrees. He stops at the door to his bedroom. “’night, Parrish.”

“’night,” Parrish says. “Maybe we’ll get lucky, and all the hunters will collectively decide to turn themselves in for whatever crimes they’ve done.”

Derek snorts. “Yeah, well, that would be a nice change of pace.”

He and Parrish aren’t scheduled to work the following day, so Derek plans to sleep in, figuring that he can swing by the station in the afternoon to see if Noah wants him to put some time in.

He’s surprised when Noah shakes him awake around eight. “Yeah?” Derek mutters sleepily. “Something wrong?”

“Sorry to wake you up on your day off, but I thought you’d want to know,” Noah says. “The FBI arrested Victoria Argent an hour ago. She’s in southern California, and they’re going to hold her there.”

Derek blinks. “They got her?”

“They got her,” Noah confirms. “Multiple counts of solicitation to commit murder, plus conspiracy charges.”

“That’s good,” Derek says numbly. He can’t quite believe it. They got Gerard, they got Kate, and now they’ve got Victoria. That’s the way things are supposed to work. Cops catch the bad guys, and the bad guys go to jail.

Noah pats him on the chest. “I’ll let you go back to sleep. Don’t go too crazy, but maybe do something to celebrate today.”

“You think this will dissuade the other hunters?” Derek asks.

Noah hums. “We can only hope, but I still think the sanctuary spell is our best bet for long term safety.”

“I don’t love the idea,” Derek confesses. “With Stiles’ magic—”

“Yeah,” Noah says heavily. “I don’t disagree, but Stiles is old enough to make this decision, and he thinks his magic is bound up either way.”

“This seems bigger,” Derek objects.

Noah’s weathered face is creased with concern. “It does. But I have to put my faith in my kid. That’s all I can do.”

“That’s all we can do,” Derek counters.

Noah stands up. “And that’s the thing, isn’t it? In a pack, it’s always a ‘we.’ Stiles understands that as much as anyone else does.”

He turns to the door. “Get some more sleep, Derek. You never know what’s coming next.”

“You want us to come by the station today?” Derek asks.

Noah shakes his head. “No, not today. It’s been a lot, and you could use the break.”

“We could all use a break,” Derek comments.

“Maybe with that sanctuary spell, we’ll get it,” Noah says.

Derek doesn’t think he can go back to sleep after that, but he flops back on the bed and closes his eyes, putting an arm over his face. He doesn’t know how to feel about Victoria being arrested. There’s some part of him that thought she’d never be held accountable.

Somewhere between that thought and his next breath, Derek falls back asleep.

When he wakes up again, it’s just past 10, and Derek can’t quite believe he’s slept so late. He must have needed it, and he rolls out of bed and heads for the bathroom, grateful to find it unoccupied.

He gives the guest room door a quick glance, and sees it open and the bed made. That doesn’t surprise him. Parrish is still circling, figuring out just how deep he wants to get. Today being a day off for the both of them, he figures he probably has the same chores Derek does.

Derek gets cleaned up and dressed, then heads downstairs to raid the fridge. Stiles is working on his laptop at the kitchen island, and he glances up. “Did Dad tell you the news before he left?”

“Yeah, woke me up to do it,” Derek says. “Not that I minded. It was good news.”

“You don’t sound that happy about it,” Stiles observes, and Batman is asleep—or feigning sleep—under his chair.

Derek opens the fridge door to stare inside, trying to figure out if he’s feeling more like leftovers or eggs. “I don’t know how I feel about it.”

“Like you never thought you’d see the day?” Stiles asks knowingly.

“Yeah, like that,” Derek says. “I’m a cop, so what does it say about me that I don’t trust the system?”

“I think it says that the hunters got away with a lot of shit for a really long time,” Stiles says. “And the system didn’t work then. They killed a whole lot of people, and they walked away scot-free.”

“Until now,” Derek says, the idea solidifying in his mind. “Because of your dad.”

Stiles smiles. “Yeah, he’s pretty great, isn’t he?”

“He pretty much restored my faith in humanity,” Derek admits. “But then he became a werewolf, so I guess maybe he just restored my faith in the system.”

“Ha, ha,” Stiles says. “I didn’t help with that at all?”

“You’re magic,” Derek replies, deciding on eggs, pulling out the carton. “Speaking of…”

Stiles sighs. “Is this about the sanctuary spell?”

“I don’t want you limiting your future just because of some asshole hunters,” Derek says, although without heat. He’s not upset, just worried.

Stiles shakes his head, a curiously gentle expression on his face. “I’m not thinking about the hunters when I think about creating a sanctuary,” Stiles says. “I’m thinking about those contract killers, about that family who got killed—even if they were wendigos. I’m thinking about your family. I’m thinking about growing up, and people coming back here, and maybe having kids, and knowing that this is a safe place to raise them.”

Derek takes a deep breath. “You’ve really thought about this.”

“I’ve been thinking about this ever since Moira said such a thing existed,” Stiles admits. “What would it mean to you to know that someone who wanted to harm the pack couldn’t even come into town?”

“It would mean a lot,” Derek admits. “More than I can really say. But what about the people who are already here who mean us harm?”

Stiles shakes his head. “I don’t know, but I had a dream last night, and I think the Nemeton gave me some pointers. I’m going to talk to Moira about it more today.”

“Is it weird that you’re talking to a magic tree in your dreams?” Derek asks.

Stiles shrugs. “It might be the least weird thing that’s happened recently. The Nemeton is cool. She’s not a person, but she has a personality if that makes sense.”

“About as much sense as anything does,” Derek admits. “You hungry?”

“Nah, I had leftovers for breakfast,” Stiles says. “I’m just working on college applications.”

“Where are you applying?” Derek asks.

Stiles takes a deep, audible breath as Derek begins to crack eggs into a pan. “Stanford, UC-Davis, UC-Berkley, Sonoma, and a couple of community colleges just to be safe. If I really can’t handle being away from the pack’s territory, I’ll commute to one of the closer schools.”

Derek hums, putting a couple of pieces of bread in the toaster. “Where do you really want to go?”

He knows that, for him, it hadn’t mattered where he got his degree. He just wanted to finish. When it came to the peace officer training modules, Derek needed the part-time program.

For Stiles, though, it’s different. Going to a school like Stanford will open up a lot of doors.

“Stanford,” Stiles admits. “But it’s going to depend on the financial aid package, and what they offer me. And, of course, that’s assuming I get accepted.”

“You’ll get in,” Derek says. “I don’t have any doubts about that.”

“You and my dad and Lydia and Danny,” Stiles says. “I’ll let you have enough faith for me.”

“Where’s Lydia going?” Derek asks.

Stiles shrugs. “She got early acceptance—or is basically assured of early acceptance—into MIT.”

“You going to try to make it long distance?” Derek asks, flipping the eggs, wanting the yolks to still be soft but not too runny.

Stiles shakes his head. “No, we’ll break up before we leave for school, but we’ll part as friends, which was what I was hoping for.”

Derek wants to comment that it’s awfully mature of him to say that, but he knows it would sound patronizing, and Stiles has earned his respect ten times over.

“I don’t know,” Stiles muses as he’s typing. “Maybe I’m not meant for some grand love story.”

“I thought Lydia was your grand love story,” Derek objects. “You’ve had a crush on her forever, right?”

Stiles laughs. “Yeah, but it’s funny what happens to a crush when you stop idealizing someone and actually start dating. All of a sudden, they’re a real person. Besides, I think the pack took her place in my heart. If I have one true love, that’s it.”

Derek understands that, and he feels much the same way.

He slides his eggs on a plate, along with the toast, and takes a seat next to Stiles at the kitchen island. “This okay?”

“Yeah, of course, Der,” Stiles says absently. “It’s nice to have the company.”

“Did you see Parrish this morning?” Derek asks, changing the subject.

Stiles nods. “He was up and out pretty early. He said he needed to get a start on his laundry, but he’d be by after lunch if you wanted to do some target practice.”

That’s about what Derek thought, and he says, “Do you want to go with us?”

“I don’t think I’m supposed to leave the house,” Stiles replies.

Moira strolls into the kitchen. “You can wear that hat, Stiles. I think if you go straight there and back, the risk would be minimal. And you need to get out of here if you’re going to keep a tight rein on your magic. You’re ready to start crawling up the walls.”

“That would be accurate,” Stiles mutters. “I’ll wear the hat.”

“Good,” Moira says. “Now, did you get any additional intelligence last night?”

Derek blinks as he realizes that she’s referring to the Nemeton.

“Yeah, she had some pointers about people who are already here and intend to do us harm,” Stiles confirms. “Basically, she can use magic to make it really, really uncomfortable to be here.”

Moira purses her lips. “The Nemeton is offering to drive people crazy for the pack.”

“In support of our symbiotic relationship,” Stiles says, his tone as dry as the desert. “She’s willing to do what’s necessary to take care of the pack.”

Moira hesitates. “Stiles, are you sure the Nemeton isn’t arranging things so you’re stuck here?”

Stiles rubs his hands briskly on the legs of his jeans. “No, I’m not sure. I’m not really sure about anything at this point, but what else do we have? Even if she is conspiring to keep me here, you confirmed that the spell the hunters used on me would have kept me unconscious by using my own magic against me.”

“You’re correct about that,” Moira says reluctantly. “All right, well, what do we know about the motivations of magic trees anyway?”

Stiles shrugs. “Exactly. Maybe she wants to trap me here, but it’s not like she can, not really. I can leave my magic behind if I have to.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Derek mutters.

“We’ll blame the hunters,” Stiles replies. “They’re to blame for most of our misfortunes, even if it’s just indirectly. If it weren’t for their attack, the Nemeton wouldn’t have had an opening. And if she took the opening offered, well, who can blame her? Her last guardian was a fucking druid.”

Moira laughs a little sadly. “Point made, Stiles. No sense crying over spilled milk, huh?”

“Something like that,” Stiles confirms. “What’s done is done.”

Derek recognizes the finality in his tone. Whatever the ulterior motivations, Stiles is right, it doesn’t really matter. These are the circumstances they have to live with.

“All right,” Moira says. “I won’t say anything more about her motivations.”

Stiles just shrugs, and Derek figures that Stiles might know or suspect a little more than he’s letting on, but if Derek had to guess, Stiles feels protective of the Nemeton. So, even if she is being opportunistic, Stiles will be grateful for whatever she can do for the pack.

And Derek can’t quite believe he’s even thinking about a magic tree like she’s a person.

“I’ll text Parrish,” Derek says, as he mops up the last of the egg yolks with the final bite of bread. “Get an idea of when he’ll be back.”

“You do that,” Moira replies. “Stiles and I can talk about the ritual. You’ll have time to work on the college applications later.”

Stiles sighs and closes the laptop. “You got it.”

Derek wanders out of the room to the den. Along with the television and game system, there are bookshelves full of books, and he grabs one. He probably should start on the laundry, but he wants to take a little time.

He quickly shoots a text off to Parrish, and gets a response almost immediately. 2 pm okay?

Derek replies with, Okay if Stiles comes with?

Long as it’s okay with the Sheriff.

“Stiles, can you make sure your dad is okay with us going to the firing range?” Derek calls out.

“Yeah, I’ll text him,” Stiles says. “Parrish wants the boss’ okay?”

“Got it in one,” Derek calls back.

Derek opens the copy of The Hobbit, because he wants a comfort read, and that book ticks the box. He’s a couple of chapters in when Stiles says, “Dad says it’s okay.”

It’s okay with the Sheriff, he texts.

Then it’s fine with me, too. Good to have him.

Derek relaxes back on the couch, glancing at the clock. He figures he’ll allow for an hour of reading, and then he’ll start the wash.

He reads a few chapters, then heads to the laundry room. The general rule is that Derek will wash linens on his day off, but only if people bring them to the laundry room. If they don’t, they have to take care of it themselves. That way, everybody gets to maintain their privacy, and the household cuts down on water and energy usage.

He figures the girls probably bring their towels and sheets down about half the time, and it looks they actually managed it this week. So have Stiles and Noah, and Derek shoves the first load of towels in the washing machine.

Derek heads back out to the den and flops back on the couch. He hasn’t been awake for long, but Derek is still exhausted. There’s some time until the full moon and the sanctuary spell—assuming they can do it.

At the same time, if they don’t do it, if they’re looking over their shoulders, what kind of life are they going to be living?

Derek cracks open his book again, but then puts it face down on his chest, closing his eyes.

He wakes a couple of hours later, hearing low voices from the kitchen. Derek tucks the old receipt he’s using as a bookmark between the pages, and goes out to find Parrish and Stiles drinking a couple of Cokes.

“Hey, you still good to go?” Parrish asks. “If you’re not feeling it, I’ll take a rain check.”

Derek shakes his head. “No, I’m good. I have no idea why I’m so tired.”

“Probably because we’ve had a lot going on,” Stiles says. “And no time to actually rest. It’s cool if you need another nap.”

“I think I’m good,” Derek replies. He does feel better rested, and he’d like to get some range time in. And if he pictures the hunters’ faces on the targets, even better.

Parrish shrugs, accepting Derek’s assurance at face value. Derek appreciates that about him.

“We can take my truck,” Parrish offers. “It’s a little less conspicuous than the Camaro.”

“Yeah, one big, black truck looks about the same as any other,” Stiles jokes, pulling on the hat.

It’s strange, because even though Derek knows he’s looking at Stiles, he doesn’t see Stiles. He just looks like a nondescript white kid, and Derek’s eyes want to slide away.

“That hat does weird things,” Parrish mutters. “It’s even weirder being on this side.”

Stiles shrugs. “At least we know it works.”

The firing range the sheriff’s department uses is on the edge of town, and there are two possible routes, one around the edge, which is faster, or through town, which leaves them less exposed.

Parrish opts for the route through town, pulling up in front of the range. “You two head inside, and I’ll be right behind you.”

Derek suspects he’ll be watching their backs, making sure no one is targeting them.

“Go on, Stiles,” Derek says, grabbing the case with the pistols he removed from the family vault. He figures Stiles will get a kick out of using them, and Derek has no idea how well they fire.

Derek follows him in, and the range owner greets them with a welcoming smile. “Hey, Stiles, Derek. You guys bring the Sheriff with you?”

Stiles took off the hat as soon as he entered, and he shakes his head. “No, Mr. Van Eck. It’s just the two of us and Deputy Parrish today.”

Parrish comes through the door then, and he says, “Hi, Mr. Van Eck.”

“Good to see you boys,” Mr. Van Eck replies. “No one else is here, so you can take whichever bay you want.”

“Thanks,” Derek replies. “I’ve got something to show you, Stiles.”

Stiles follows him into the first bay and watches with interest as Derek opens the case to reveal the pearl-handled pistols. “Have you used these yet?”

Derek snorts. “They’re not exactly regulation, so no, but I figured today was as good a time as any.”

Stiles picks one up reverently. “Yeah, might as well see if they’re as functional as they are beautiful.”

He left Batman at home, since they don’t make hearing protection for dogs, and Stiles said he didn’t want to hurt Batman’s ears.

Derek clips the paper target to the hooks, then presses the button to send it to the end of the lane. Stiles has handled weapons often enough that he easily flips out the cylinder and begins loading it.

Parrish has set up in the lane next to Derek, and he also clips a target and sends it to the end of the line. “Are we going to make this interesting?”

“I don’t think I can compete with you two,” Stiles says.

Parrish smirks at him. “You can always put money on one of us.”

“I’m staying out of it,” Stiles replies, settling the muffs over his ears. “But if I had to choose, my money would be on Derek.”

“How about loser buys dinner tonight?” Derek asks.

Parrish nods, putting on his own muffs. “Deal.”

Derek puts on his hearing protection and stands behind Stiles as he brings the revolver up to bear. Derek can tell that Noah had been the one to teach him to shoot, because his grip and stance are exactly like his dad’s.

He holds the gun in his dominant hand, his left hand steadying the right, shoulders square. Stiles squeezes off one shot, checks the placement, then adjusts, firing the rest of the bullets in the cylinder.

Stiles brings the target to him and unclips it. “Not awful.”

“It’s a little better than ‘not awful,’” Derek corrects him. They’re using the same targets that law enforcement train on, so it’s the outline of a head and torso. There are two holes in the center of the head, and three center mass. Only one shot went slightly wide, hitting what would be the right shoulder.

“The first shot went a little wide,” Stiles says modestly.

“You’d have passed the range test,” Derek replies, clapping him on the shoulder. “And if the hunters attack and you have access to a weapon, they’re not going to get very far.”

Stiles nods. “It’s just too bad that I have to wait until I’m 21 before I can apply for a concealed carry permit.”

“Any problems with the revolver?” Parrish asks.

Stiles points at the hole in the right shoulder. “That was my first shot. Once I adjusted, it was fine.”

Derek picks up the second revolver. “Wish me luck. Loser is buying dinner tonight.”

Stiles laughs. “Good luck.”

Derek empties the cylinder of the other revolver into the target, and notices something similar. His first shot goes just a bit wide, this time to the left. He adjusts accordingly and dials in. The other shots all hit center mass within inches of each other.

Parrish brings his target over for comparison, and there’s no question that his grouping is tighter. The bullets have made one hole in the center of the target.

“Best two out of three?” Parrish asks. “I’ll use one of the revolvers, and the other two attempts with our service weapons?”

Derek nods. “Fair. That works.”

Stiles hands the revolver he’d used to Parrish. “A little high, right?” Parrish asks.

Stiles mimes zipping his lips. “No cheating, dude. Derek and I had to figure it out, so do you.”

Parrish laughs. “I wouldn’t want an unfair advantage.”

He shoots with the revolver that Stiles had used, with much the same results, but it clearly takes him a couple of shots to dial it in.

Derek goes for the same tight grouping Parrish had when firing his Glock, and it’s tight, but maybe not as good as Parrish’s, who has always had slightly better range scores.

Parrish gives Stiles back the revolver he used and says, “Try again, Stiles, now that you’ve got the hang of it.”

“I’m still not going to come close to your scores,” Stiles protests.

“You don’t have to come close or even beat us,” Parrish replies. “But I think we’d all feel better if we know you can pick up a gun and kill a hunter who’s attacking you.”

Stiles shrugs. “I think I can guarantee that. I’ve done it before to Peter Hale, and I took care of the Darach, too. But sure, let’s see what I can do.”

His eyes glow gold briefly, and they all put the muffs back on. This time, they watch as Stiles shoots, and somehow, Derek isn’t surprised when there’s a single hole in the target.

“I thought you said no cheating,” Parrish objects.

“Just using the gifts the universe gave me while I can,” Stiles counters. “And if I use magic against the hunters, I don’t think anyone minds.”

“Indubitably,” Derek replies.

Parrish snorts. “Okay, college boy.”

He and Parrish finish out their rounds, and in the end it’s a draw between them. On the third round, Parrish’s grouping wasn’t quite as tight as Derek’s. Stiles also takes a third round, using the same weapon, and this time he doesn’t use magic, as evidenced by the fairly tight, but not perfect, grouping center mass.

“You like the revolvers?” Derek asks.

Stiles chuckles. “Yeah, now that I’m used to them, it’s not bad.”

“Better because it’s a little finicky, and you are used to it,” Derek comments. “You could keep practicing, take it with you when you go to college.”

Stiles shakes his head. “They frown on that sort of thing.”

“Keep practicing with both,” Parrish urges. “It might come in handy.”

“We’ll just have to hope the hunters don’t strike until I turn 21,” Stiles mutters sourly.

“When you are 21, the guns are yours,” Derek says.

Stiles frowns at him. “What? No! They’re from your family vault, Derek.”

“I’m not going to carry them,” Derek replies. “Those are hunters’ weapons, and I think we agree that there would be a certain poetic justice in you using those guns to kill them.”

When Stiles continues to hesitate, Derek says, “Someone in the pack should have them. We can figure out a way for you to practice with moving targets.”

Stiles hesitates. “Let me talk to my dad, but… Yeah, if you don’t mind. I like them more than I probably should.”

Derek packs the guns away in the case, making a mental note to clean them later, and then Stiles says, “I can clean them. If they’re going to belong to me, I should.”

“We’ll pick up Lu’s for dinner tonight,” Derek says. “Parrish and I will split the cost. You find out how many people are going to be there so we know how much to get.”

“Yeah, I can do that,” Stiles says, pulling out his phone and typing a quick text. “Just give me a sec.”

Derek and Parrish quickly check their service weapons and reload.

“Gun cleaning party at the Sheriff’s later?” Parrish asks.

“Sounds good,” Derek says.

They’re both wearing their service weapons, even though they’re technically off duty, not wanting to be caught unarmed by the hunters.

“All right, we’ve got Dad, Moira, and the girls confirmed for dinner tonight,” Stiles announces. “Everyone else has something going on.”

It’s Wednesday, so that doesn’t surprise Derek. Noah and Moira agreed that everyone should stick to their usual schedules. The hunters could attack anyone at any time, but so far they’d been focused on the pack house and the sheriff’s department.

Derek suspects they’re focused on those they view most responsible for Gerard and Kate having been locked up—and that’s Noah and Stiles.

At least, he hopes that’s the case, because worrying about every single member of the pack is overwhelming. They can’t set up protection for everyone, nor can they expect the kids to be able to defend themselves, not in the way that Stiles or Noah and his deputies can.

“That works,” Derek says. “We need to clean the weapons, and then we can go pick up the food.”

The rest of the afternoon passes peacefully. They get back to the house and set up the gun cleaning station in the dining room, putting down cloths and disassembling the weapons.

Stiles pays careful attention to taking apart and cleaning the revolvers, thoroughly cleaning and oiling each part before putting them back together, while Derek and Parrish do the same with their service weapons.

He puts the revolvers back in the case, and Derek makes a mental note to look for more information on the guns in the paperwork from the vault.

They’re just finishing up when Cora and Malia come into the house, and Cora sits next to Stiles. “Did you manage to get out?”

“I went to the firing range with Derek and Parrish,” Stiles confirms. “How was school?”

“People are asking about you,” Cora replies. “The story about you having mono is holding.”

Stiles nods. “Good.”

“I got your assignments, too,” Cora adds. “Lydia picked up the ones I couldn’t.”

Stiles smiles at her. “Thanks.”

“Hang in there, Dr. Strange,” Cora replies. “We’re going to get through this.”

Stiles snorts. “I certainly hope so. I don’t love the idea of being stuck inside forever.”

“Everything they’ve tried so far has failed,” Parrish points out. “And there are four hunters who are going to jail for a long time.”

“That might give them pause,” Stiles admits. “As long as they leave us alone long enough to get the sanctuary spell done, I’m not sure I care what they do.”

Parrish raises his eyebrows. “Maybe you could put a curse on them, Stiles. Or possibly do something magically to tie them up.”

Stiles frowns and hums thoughtfully. “I don’t know, but—maybe. The Nemeton might help with that even without the sanctuary spell.”

“Well, whatever we need to do to make you and the rest of the pack safe, we’ll do,” Malia says, speaking for the first time. “We talked to the others, and they agreed.”

“We still need to have a pack meeting,” Stiles replies. “But that’s for this Saturday. I’ve already sent out the invite.”

“What are we doing for dinner tonight?” Malia asks. “And do you need help? I have some homework, but I can chop something.”

Stiles laughs. “No, Derek and Parrish are going to pick up chicken.”

“Yes!” Malia and Cora say in unison. “I love Lu’s,” Cora adds. “Can we get pie?”

“I like pie,” Parrish says. “And I’m good for it.”

“We deserve pie,” Derek agrees. “It’s been a very trying time.”

Stiles grins. “Lu’s pies are the best.”

When Stiles gets a text that Noah is on his way back to the house, Derek and Parrish head out to pick up food. They’ve called ahead, and they’re frequent enough visitors that Derek only has to give a head count to complete the order.

Dina brings the chicken and sides out to the car when they pull up, and she says, “Lu put a little something extra in there for Stiles. We heard he was under the weather.”

Derek snorts. “And how did you hear that?”

“My baby cousin is a freshman this year,” Dina replies. “And he’s been out for a while. Word is that he has mono.”

“That’s right,” Derek replies. “But he’s recovering, and he’ll be fine.”

Dina nods. “Well, that should put a spring in his step. You both take care now.”

“You, too,” Derek says.

As Parrish pulls out of the parking lot, he comments, “They really love Stiles, don’t they?”

“He and his mom would pick up dinner there before she died, and then he and his dad did after she passed,” Derek replies.

Parrish shakes his head. “You know, I’m not used to living in a place where I have a history. I never have before.” He pauses. “But I’m looking forward to building one.”

Derek understands the feeling. He enjoyed his time in New York—for a certain value of that word—but it’s nice to be back in Beacon Hills where people recognize the Hale name, and where he has his own history.

Some of that history is tragic, but a lot of it is good, too.

~~~~~

Noah gets the call from Marsh around 7:30 in the morning to let him know that Victoria Argent had been taken into custody by federal marshals without incident.

“So, Argent’s information was good,” Noah muses.

“It was accurate,” Marsh agrees. “It wouldn’t be ethical, but I’m tempted to send the man a fruit basket.”

Noah laughs. “Yeah, well, I have to wonder about that relationship, to be honest. I suspect he chose his kid.”

“Both her parents should have chosen their kid, but it’s good that she has one parent she can count on,” Marsh agrees. “I’ll keep you apprised of any changes. Unfortunately, it’s going to be a little bit before I can pick up those phones.”

“We’re still waiting on the phone companies’ response to our warrants, and they’re being held without bond,” Noah replies philosophically. “We’ve got time.”

He debates whether to wake Derek up to let him know the news, but thinks that Derek deserves to hear the news in person, and not from a text message. Besides, if the system is working, maybe that will give him some measure of comfort.

Noah isn’t planning to wake Stiles up to give him the news, but he doesn’t need to worry about it. Stiles is working on his laptop in the kitchen, and he glances up at Noah when he enters. “Hey, Dad.”

Noah drops a kiss on the top of his head. “How are you doing?”

“I might be going a little stir crazy,” Stiles admits. “I know it’s dangerous, but—”

“If you or Moira can figure out a way for you get out for a little bit, that might be for the best,” Noah replies. “I know you’ll take precautions.”

Stiles’ quick grin is bright. “Thanks.”

“I have some news,” Noah says. “Agent Marsh called me this morning. They arrested Victoria Argent based on the information that Chris provided.”

Stiles blinks. “Seriously?”

Noah nods. “Seriously. The federal marshals arrested her without incident. She’ll likely be held without bail until the trial.”

Stiles frowns. “What are the charges?”

“Solicitation to commit murder and conspiracy,” Noah says. “Plus, an assortment of federal wire charges, and I’m sure whatever else the U.S. Attorney comes up with.”

Stiles blows out a breath. “Well, I can’t pretend that’s not a surprise, but it’s a pleasant one. I’m glad something has gone our way for once.”

“No one in the pack is dead,” Noah says. “I’m going to take that as a win.”

Stiles lets out a mirthless laugh. “Yeah, fair. You going to be home for dinner tonight?”

“I’m going to try, but we’ll see how the day goes,” Noah says. “Be good, and set up that pack meeting?”

He makes it a question, and Stiles nods. “Saturday okay?”

“That works,” Noah says. “If I have to, I’ll leave a deputy in charge for the length of the meeting.”

“Sounds good, Dad,” Stiles says. “Be safe today.”

“You, too,” Noah replies.

He’s somehow not surprised when he steps outside of the house and finds Tara waiting for him. “I have a vehicle with me,” he says when he approaches the driver’s window.

“Yeah, so I’ll follow you in,” Tara agrees easily. “That way, if they try to attack you, you’ll have help close at hand.”

Noah sighs. “We can’t keep this up forever.”

Tara smiles, but there’s more than a hint of sarcasm in her expression. “No, but I’d be very surprised to find out that Moira and Stiles don’t have a plan.”

“They do,” Noah confirms. “We’ll see if it works.”

“I have faith,” Tara replies.

Noah decides that his only option is to give in with good grace. “Right, I’ll let you follow me in.”

The drive is uneventful, and Mark meets Noah just inside the station door. “I think it might be for the best if you worked at the station today, sir.”

“You do, do you?” Noah asks.

Mark’s expression is resolute. “Yes, I do. We know there are others out there, and we don’t have to make you a target. If you have to be at a scene, I think you should have someone with you, and one of us can tail you home tonight to make sure you arrive safely.”

Noah supposes that it’s his own fault for being a decent boss. If they hated him, they probably wouldn’t care nearly as much about his well-being. “All right. I agree. Follow me to my office. There’s some news.”

He passes the information about Victoria Argent on to Mark and Tara, and Tara throws her hands up. “Well, that’s some good news for a change.”

“I’ll tell you the same thing I told Stiles,” Noah replies. “For all their attempts, no one in the pack has been permanently injured or killed. Let’s count our blessings.”

“That’s something to remember,” Mark agrees. “I’ll take care of the assignments for the day. I know you probably have paperwork to catch up on.”

It’s a pointed statement, and Noah makes a show of turning on his computer. “And that’s what I’ll be doing.”

Noah actually does have paperwork, and he gets to it. There are budgets to go over, requisition forms, overtime requests, and all the rest that comes with being the local sheriff. With the insistence of his deputies that Noah stay at the station, he has a chance to get through most of it for a change.

Sometime in the midafternoon, after he’s fielded Stiles’ request to go to the firing range with Derek and Parrish, Marsh calls him again. “I’m sure this won’t be a shock, but Victoria Argent invoked her right to counsel, and isn’t willing to give a statement.”

“Well, I never said she wasn’t intelligent,” Noah remarks. “What do you think about the strength of the case against her?”

Marsh sighs audibly. “It’s looking pretty good. We subpoenaed more records, and we can show that she was the one who transferred the money out of the account to make the deposits used to pay the contract killers. My bet is that she’ll try to claim that she didn’t know what the money would be used for, and that Kate made all the arrangements.”

Noah makes a sound that he hopes adequately conveys his disbelief. “From prison?”

“Plenty of people have hired a hit man from behind bars,” Marsh says. “But that’s why we’re continuing to go over the evidence, and we’ll keep building our case.”

“I appreciate the update, Abe,” Noah replies.

“I hope it gives you a little peace of mind,” Marsh says. “I know there are other hunters out there, but let’s hope this has been a deterrent.”

“I certainly hope so,” Noah says. They exchange pleasantries, and Noah hangs up.

He goes back to work, but the information about Victoria is rattling around in the back of his mind. In the end, he can’t say exactly why he does it, but he picks up his phone and calls Chris Argent.

“Argent,” he says, picking up on the second ring.

“I was calling to check in,” Noah admits. “See how you were doing.”

“I’ve had to block a few phone numbers,” Argent admits. “But the smart ones know I made the right choice to keep my family safe.”

Noah appreciates that philosophy. “How did Allison take the news?”

Argent snorts. “If I hadn’t called you with the information, Allison would have. She’s drawing a hard line, and she’s made that clear to everyone.”

“I’m glad she’s doing okay,” Noah says.

“I appreciate you checking up on us,” Argent replies.

Over the phone, Noah can’t tell whether there’s an edge of sarcasm to his voice or not, but he decides to take it at face value. “I appreciate the tip.”

“I have your number if I get another,” Argent says, and now he sounds amused. “Take care, Noah.”

“You, too,” Noah replies.

Noah feels pretty good about the interaction, and as though he hasn’t burned that bridge. Maybe Argent or Allison will hear some other tidbit and pass it along; that wouldn’t be a bad outcome.

He gets a text from Stiles, asking if he’ll be home for dinner, and Noah decides that there’s nothing preventing him from going home to eat. With the progress he’s made, and the fact that his deputies aren’t going to allow him to go out on patrol, he might as well spend time with his kid.

When he shuts down his computer for the day and heads out of his office, Mark is in the bullpen. “I’ll follow you home, sir.”

“And what about you?” Noah asks.

Rhonda walks through the door of the station. “You ready, Mark?”

Mark smiles. “Sure am. Like I said, we’ll follow you home.”

Noah decides to give in with good grace at that point. “All right.”

“You think you’ll be back tonight?” Mark asks as they walk out.

Noah shakes his head. “No, I’m through most of the paperwork, and I’d like to spend some time with my kid.” He leaves unsaid that he’d been afraid he’d never get a chance again not that long ago, or that Stiles would be heading off to college soon.

He’s been forcibly reminded that there isn’t much time left. They’ll always have the pack, of course, but things are changing.

Noah knows that he needs to take advantage of every opportunity.

~~~~~

Stiles keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop over the next week and a half. There had been so many attacks in such a short period of time, he expects the hunters to strike at any moment, but maybe his dad had been right. Arresting the ones they caught and charging them with as many crimes as they could come up with had potentially served as a deterrent.

Or maybe the hunters are just regrouping, coming up with a new plan, since none of their other schemes worked.

Whatever the case might be, the lull gives them time to discuss the sanctuary spell and make a plan for the full moon. Stiles is still staying out of school, pretending to have mono, but with the magical ballcap, he’s at least able to go outside on occasion, or run errands with his dad or Derek.

But Stiles is bored, and he wants to get through the spell to at least put an end to this waiting.

He’s in the den, doing his English reading, when there’s a perfunctory knock on the front door, and Lydia slips inside. “Hello!” she calls.

“In the den,” Stiles replies.

Lydia comes into the den, and Stiles shifts his feet so that Lydia could sit down. “How are you?”

Stiles marks his place in Their Eyes Were Watching God, and says, “Bored. The usual.”

Lydia gives him a sympathetic look. “Not long now, Stiles.”

Stiles sighs. “No, just a couple of days. Moira had a few phone calls to make, and she thought she might have news by the time the rest of the coven gets here.”

Lydia pats his leg. “How are the applications going?”

“Everything has been submitted,” Stiles admits. “So, it’s just a waiting game all the way around.”

“And the pack meeting is still on Saturday?” Lydia asks.

Stiles nods. “We should have all the information we’re going to have at that point. Everyone can make their own decision from there.”

“It’s going to be fine,” Lydia insists.

Stiles manages a smile. “Yeah, I know. I just want it to be over.”

Lydia raises an eyebrow. “I hate to break it to you, Stiles, but I’m not sure it will ever really be over.”

That sounds and feels bleak, but Stiles knows the words hold an element of truth. Even if they manage to catch all of the hunters with murderous intent, there will likely still be more of them ready to terrorize werewolves given the opportunity.

“The sanctuary spell should at least make Beacon Hills safer,” Stiles says morosely. “But I hate to think that we’ll be trapped here if we want to be safe.”

“I think we might need to think about all the ways we can protect ourselves outside of Beacon Hills,” Lydia replies. “Like a personal warding system.”

Stiles frowns. “Huh. That’s an interesting idea. There are reasons we ward places, but I have the personal ward in tattoo form. Maybe there’s a way to do it.”

“There might be a way to anchor the magic in your body, too,” Lydia points out. “Once we get through this ritual, we’ll have time to explore our options.”

Stiles blows out a breath. “Yeah, fair. We just have to get through this.”

They’re planning on doing it on the full moon. Today, the coven is meeting to finalize the ritual, then the meeting with the pack ahead of the full moon, then the ritual itself.

“I brought your assignments,” Lydia adds. “Assuming it goes okay, are you planning on going back in person for finals?”

Stiles nods. “I’ll technically be through the contagious period for mono by then, so it won’t look weird.”

There’s another knock, and Danny enters. “Hey, Stiles, Lydia. How are you feeling?”

“Bored,” Stiles says. “But what else is new?”

Danny plops down in one of the chairs across from Stiles. “We’re almost there.”

Stiles gives him a look. “Yeah, if the ritual works.”

“The Nemeton basically told you it would,” Danny points out.

“And she’s a really young tree,” Stiles counters. “So, she could be wrong.”

Danny just gives him a look. “Okay, Negative Nancy.”

Stiles sighs. “Sorry. It’s just been a lot.”

“It has been a lot, but we’re going to buy time with the sanctuary spell, and we’re going to be fine,” Lydia says with a determined tilt to her chin.

Stiles has noticed that Lydia has taken on the role of a cheerleader, insisting that everything is going to be fine, and things are going to work out.

“If you believe it, it will happen?” Stiles asks.

Lydia fixes him with a fierce look. “No, if you believe it, it will happen. I thought that’s what being a spark meant.”

Stiles blinks. “You may have a point.”

“So, I’ll have enough faith for the both of us until you get with the program,” Lydia says. “But I suggest you make that soon.”

“Like, before the ritual?” Stiles asks.

Lydia doesn’t even bother to answer that, but Danny says, “You heard her, Stiles.”

“I’ll do my best,” Stiles says.

They don’t have to wait long for the rest of the coven to show up. Moira is the first to arrive with Noelani, and then Alana appears.

“Let’s sit and talk, and then we’ll start working,” Moira says.

They sit around the kitchen island, everyone opting tea or a soda. Stiles drinks slowly from his can and watches as Moira gathers her thoughts over a cup of tea.

“I was finally able to reach the one person still living who witnessed a sanctuary spell,” Moira finally says after a moment. “He said it was the singular great work of the head of his coven, and that it drained most of the coven members for at least a week after that.”

Stiles frowns. “What did he mean by ‘singular great work?’”

“It was the last act of a dying man, Stiles,” Noelani says gently. “He used his death to fuel the spell. Obviously, we’re not in the same set of circumstances, so it’s hard to know what the effects on you, the coven, and the rest of the pack will be.”

Lydia glances at Stiles, then asks, “What was he trying to protect?”

“He married a werewolf, and two of their five children were born wolves,” Moira says. “He had ALS, and didn’t have much time left—and he was a witch, not a spark.”

“Does that really matter?” Stiles asks.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Moira admits. “It’s hard to know how much power he really had, but the man said that he was strong enough to lead a coven of twenty.”

Stiles takes another drink of his soda. “Sorry for being redundant, but does that really matter? We know we’re going to do the spell, and we know it’s possible to create a sanctuary. I’m not going to kill myself in order to fuel the spell, so it’s kind of a moot point.”

“He remembered the outline of the spell,” Moira says, but she’s not chiding him. Stiles figures if anyone understands that he’s starting to go a little stir crazy, it’s probably Moira. She’s seen it. “It gives us a place to start with the ritual.”

Stiles reins in his aggravation, forcing himself to stay calm and think about this rationally. Even if they don’t use the exact same ritual, the information could be helpful in figuring out the best path forward.

“We’ll go over what they used, and if it doesn’t seem like it will work for us, then we’ll change it,” Moira adds.

“Fair,” Stiles says. “Sorry. I think the isolation is getting to me more than I’d like to admit.”

“It’s not just the isolation,” Moira counters. “I think you know that.”

Stiles had, in fact, had a session with Jack the day prior, and Jack had said, “Stiles, it’s been trauma heaped on trauma. If your emotions weren’t labile right now, I’d be shocked.”

“’Labile,’” Stiles had repeated. “Pretty sure that word was on the SATs.”

Jack hadn’t risen to the bait; he’d just smiled and said, “That must have been why you scored so high on the verbal section. So, how about we work on how to manage those very normal mood swings?”

The advice had been good, as always, and so Stiles takes another deep breath and nods. “Yeah, I know.”

Moira begins going over the ritual in detail, and Stiles can already see where they’ll have to change things. The other coven had a couple of ley lines that formed a small node, not a Nemeton. They used the coven leader’s death to fuel the ritual, but Stiles is going to use his magic, plus the magic of the coven and the strength of the Hale pack and the spark.

But once they get past those differences, Stiles can see how the structure of the ritual could be used for their own.

Moira glances at him. “Stiles?”

“Yeah, I see it,” Stiles says. “We can use the same structure, just with the coven in the inner circle and the pack in the outer one.”

Lydia nods, pointing at the sketch Moira drew. “We have all five elements represented. I know werewolves and magic don’t normally mix, but wouldn’t the pack members have their own affinities?”

Noelani smiles approvingly. “Everyone does. Every person, with or without magic, has some affinity. It’s stronger for those with magic, but it’s still there.”

“We can use that to build the ritual,” Lydia says. “It will be stronger that way.”

Alana nods. “I agree. We can do the testing the night of the meeting, figure out where everyone is going to be—at least among those who are willing to participate.”

“What about those who don’t want to participate?” Stiles asks.

Moira shrugs. “As long as we have at least one per coven member, I think we’ll be fine.”

Stiles nods. “I think we’ll get at least that many.”

“Once we know who’s going to participate, we can finish building it,” Moira says. “But let’s go over the rest of the particulars.”

There’s no question that Stiles is going to be the one leading the ritual, since he’s the one with the connection to the Nemeton.

“The Nemeton had some suggestions for how to strengthen the ritual, too,” Stiles adds.

Moira sighs. “Are you sure we can trust the magic tree?”

“Nope,” Stiles says cheerfully. “And I’m not saying that because I don’t trust her. I’m saying that because she’s a tree, and a young one at that. She doesn’t have the same perspective as a human, and I don’t think we should forget that.”

Alana raises her eyebrows. “Or maybe that’s a reminder to yourself not to forget that?”

“That, too, for sure,” Stiles agrees. “I’m just saying, she might have the best intentions in the world, but she’s not human.”

Danny hums. “It’s really interesting, isn’t it? I wonder if the Nemeton responds the same way magic would.”

Moira frowns. “Magic is a force.”

“But not human, and maybe has a personality,” Danny counters. “I just think it’s interesting.”

Noelani smiles. “It is interesting, sweetheart, but then you’ve always had a deep investment in understanding magic and its flow.”

“You always said that it was like the ocean,” Danny points out. “And we tend to personify the ocean, too.”

“It doesn’t mean the ocean has feelings,” Stiles jokes.

Alana grimaces. “Eh, if you’ve spent your life around the water, you know she can be a moody bitch.”

Noelani is nodding. “Danny raises a good point. Just because something is a natural force doesn’t mean we can’t seek to understand, and it doesn’t mean that some of its vagaries don’t seem human-like.”

“You all make some very good points,” Moira admits. “We have to use the Nemeton in the spell. I don’t think there’s any other way to anchor it without a death.”

Stiles shakes his head. “The Nemeton has said as much. Again, I don’t know if there are ulterior motives, but since we don’t have a choice, and we need her help for the sanctuary spell, we’ll go with it.”

“All right,” Moira says. “There’s not even an option to trust but verify, since the spell will either work or it won’t.”

“Let’s pray it works,” Stiles says. “I’m getting a little tired of waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Moira pats his hand. “I know. Just a little while longer.”

Stiles shakes his head. “Do you really believe the sanctuary spell is the end of it?”

“I think it will buy us some breathing room,” Moira replies. “But I also think the hunters will continue to be a threat.”

Lydia slips her arm through Stiles’. “We just have to keep making them regret it when they come after us.”

“Exactly right,” Moira says. “And if we have to, we’ll start killing them in really horrible ways.”

“Should we be talking about our plans for murder out loud?” Stiles asks.

Moira shrugs. “We’re the only ones here. I think there’s plausible deniability.”

“I know where the local pig farms are,” Stiles mutters. “You know, in case we have to hide a body.”

Danny frowns. “Why a pig farm?”

“Pigs will eat anything,” Lydia says before Stiles can reply. “Without leaving a trace, unlike acid or even lye. As long as no one catches the pigs eating said body, it’s a fairly effective disposal method.”

Stiles grins at her. “I love you.”

“I know,” Lydia says smugly. “You should. I’m awesome.”

“We’ll keep that idea in reserve,” Alana says. “Fire is also an option.”

Danny nods. “Pretty sure I could keep a fire hot enough for long enough.”

“We should probably keep any and all methods of disposal in mind,” Moira says. “It wouldn’t do to repeat ourselves.”

There is a twinkle in her eye that suggests she’s not being entirely serious, but Stiles also knows that he and Moira are getting really tired of the hunters’ bullshit. All it would take is one hunter getting through the sanctuary spell and attacking the pack, and there’s a good chance they’ll wind up dead.

“Now that we have most of that figured out, what do you have planned for dinner, Stiles?” Moira asks.

Stiles shrugs. “It’s pretty chilly. I was thinking a couple of vats of soup.”

He’s bored enough that he’s been taking on most of the cooking, even though he has to rely on the rest of the pack to do the shopping.

“Do you need any help?” Danny asks.

“Sure, if you’re offering,” Stiles says. “Is everyone staying for dinner?”

“Kekoa is going to be home tonight,” Alana says, “so I’ll pass, but I appreciate the invitation. Danny, you’re welcome to stay here.”

Danny just grins. “Sure, Mom. I’ll hang out here.”

“I’ll stay, too,” Noelani says with a wink at her daughter. “Enjoy your evening.”

Alana leaves, and Moira and Noelani roll up their sleeves. “We’re happy to help, too,” Moira says.

Lydia just gives Stiles a look, and Stiles says, “I think we have enough hands.”

Stiles has been spending some of his free time watching cooking videos online, and he’s found a couple of recipes he wants to try. There’s a chicken stew using boneless thighs, and a taco soup with ground beef. Stiles has heard that many hands make light work, and both pots are simmering away in about 30 minutes.

Stiles has already checked, and Isaac and Boyd are hanging with Paul and Dave tonight, since they have the day off. The girls should be there soon, though, and Scott indicated that he and Kira would stop by.

He makes garlic bread to go with the chicken stew and opens a bag of tortilla chips to crumble into the taco soup if folks want to go that route.

Scott, Kira, Cora, Malia, and Erica walk into the house around six, and Scott calls, “Stiles? You good?”

“Back in the kitchen, Scotty,” Stiles replies.

Everyone in the pack has been stopping by frequently, rotating in and out to give whoever might be watching the idea that they’re worried about Stiles, but not holding a deathbed vigil. That’s consistent with someone being unconscious, but not on death’s door.

Frankly, there are a lot of reasons to assume that the hunters—and Deaton—wouldn’t think that Stiles’ incapacitation would cause the pack bonds to fray and force their hands. Or to realize that Stiles would be able to work free of the magical trap on his own. So, for right now, they’re all pretending that Stiles is still in a coma, and people are coming to visit.

Maybe it’s an unnecessary precaution at this point, but it’s the story they’re going with.

Scott wraps an arm around Stiles’ shoulders. “How are you doing?”

“Hanging in there,” Stiles replies. “We’re currently on track to do the sanctuary spell.”

Scott squeezes him tightly before releasing him. “You know I’m in.”

“We’re having a pack meeting in a couple of days,” Stiles reminds him. “You haven’t heard all the details yet.”

“I’m doing it,” Scott says firmly. “We need to protect the pack, and we need to protect you. And your dad. It’s a no brainer.”

“Same,” Erica echoes. “I’ll listen to what everyone has to say, and I’ll take it into consideration, but I’ve already made up my mind. Beacon Hills is going to be my home, even if I wander for a while. I want it to be a safe place to return to.”

Cora raises her hand. “What Erica said, although I doubt I’ll go far.”

“Yeah, I’m not going anywhere,” Malia mutters. “My pack is here, and that’s where I want to be.”

Kira clears her throat. “Does pack include non-werewolves?”

Stiles frowns at her. “Of course. It includes the coven, and Lydia and a couple of were-coyotes, and a few humans. Oh, and Parrish. Probably others before we’re through.”

Kira smiles brightly. “Okay! I’m in.”

Stiles hesitates. “You don’t have to.”

“Yeah, I know, but I like this pack,” Kira says firmly. “And I think my power can help. My parents are probably going back to New York after I graduate, but I want to stay in California, and if I’m not going to be close to my parents, I’d rather be near Scott.”

Stiles takes a deep breath, and he’s a little surprised at the depth of emotion that he feels at the unstinting show of support.

“Boyd and Isaac are in, too,” Erica says. “They’d have been here tonight, but well, your dad said not to make it too obvious.”

“Yeah, he did say that,” Stiles says. “Thanks, guys.”

Scott shrugs. “We all could feel it when your magic was locked away, Stiles. We’ll do whatever we can in order to make sure we keep everyone in the pack safe.”

“Thanks, dude,” Stiles says. “But it’s still a risk.”

Scott shrugs. “Living is a risk, but we’ll do our part to make the pack a little safer.”

There are nods all around, and Stiles decides to let it go. It’s clear from the expressions of the pack members that they’ve made up their minds. They’ll listen to the warnings, but they’re not going to be dissuaded, at least not easily.

And Stiles knows that he would give up his magic entirely just to keep this, to keep his pack. It would be worth the sacrifice.

~~~~~

Derek powers down his computer, and Parrish glances up at him. “Give me a minute, and I’ll ride with you.”

Derek raises his eyebrows. “You sure you want to leave your truck here?”

“You can give me a ride in the morning,” Parrish replies. “I’ll stay the night at the house.”

Derek shrugs. “You know you’re always welcome.”

“It’s one of the reasons I like being there,” Parrish admits as he powers down his own machine.

He and Parrish finished out the day writing up their reports. It had been fairly quiet, which isn’t settling Derek’s nerves at all. Noah is still insisting on the buddy rule for his deputies, even though they’re struggling to maintain full coverage.

At the same time, though, two deputies are better than one getting caught alone. Between the fire and the attack on the Sheriff, everyone is on edge, and even if Noah hasn’t explicitly stated why they’re operating on the buddy system, he doesn’t need to.

Tonight, though, it’s the pack meeting ahead of the full moon. Noah is insisting that every member be present, and that means Dave and Paul are going to be a little late for their shift, and that Derek, Parrish, and Tara are getting off a little early to maximize the overlapping time.

Derek drives them back to the pack house, and he can see a number of cars parked out front, suggesting that most are already present.

“Go ahead and get changed,” Moira says, meeting them at the door. “We’re waiting on Noah, but there’s food in the kitchen if you’re hungry.”

Derek and Parrish head upstairs to get changed out of their uniforms, and when they head back down, they find a stack of foil-wrapped tortillas and a couple of foil pans with ingredients from the taqueria in town.

They fill up their plates, and join the others in the den. It appears that most people have already eaten. Stiles is on the floor with Lydia and the dogs, to include Cocoa and Nibs tonight. Dave and Paul are sitting hip-to-hip in one corner of the sectional, and the other kids are lounging on the floor or on the furniture. Kira is also present, holding Scott’s hand tightly, and Derek is a little surprised that her parents are okay with all of this.

Dave looks them over. “How was the shift?”

“Mostly traffic offenses,” Parrish says. “I rode with Mark, and Derek went with Rhonda.”

“Smart,” Paul comments. “Makes sense.”

Noah is the last to arrive. He doesn’t change out of his uniform, suggesting that he’s planning to go back to the station. He looks around with his hands on his hips, and his eyes land on Kira. “Are we waiting on your parents?”

Kira shakes her head. “Mom said she wouldn’t stand in my way if I wanted to participate, but they’re planning on going back to New York after I graduate.”

Noah frowns, clearly concerned, but Kira smiles brightly. “It’s okay, Sheriff. I’m just glad they’re letting me make up my own mind as to how involved I want to be.”

Derek figures Noah is a little too used to absent parents or guardians, but it sounds like the Yukimuras are more like Melissa McCall, giving Kira space to make her own decisions, and trusting the pack to keep her safe.

Noah smiles at that. “All right. You know you’ll always be welcome here, Kira, whether or not you decide to participate in this ritual.”

Kira nods. “Thank you, Sheriff.”

Noah looks at Moira. “I’ll let you start.”

Moira takes a deep breath and looks around the room. “Before I do, I want everyone to know that you can decide not to participate. We’d like to build it on a mixture of Stiles’ magic, the strength of the Nemeton, and the strength of the pack and the coven, but each individual will need to decide whether they want to be part of it.”

Noah clears his throat. “That said, if you choose not to participate, you’ll still be a member of this pack. That isn’t going to change.”

Moira nods. “The ritual is not without risk, and while we think we know what to expect, we aren’t certain.”

Slowly, Moira explains what the ritual is supposed to do, creating a compulsion over the territory to turn away anyone who means specific harm to the pack or the coven. Stiles is going to lead the ritual, with the coven in the primary circle, then the pack outside of it.

“We’d like to have enough pack members to match the number of coven members, but we won’t deny anyone who wants to participate,” Moira finishes.

“What’s the risk?” Dave asks. “Are we talking being a little under the weather, or dying?”

“We’ll stop the ritual before it would drain anyone completely,” Stiles says firmly. “We think the worst-case scenario is that some folks are incapacitated, but more likely, you’ll just be a little tired.”

Cora frowns. “Like when you used Danny and me like a couple of batteries to break the evil witch’s hold on Derek?”

Stiles smiles briefly. “Yeah, that’s about the level we’re expecting.”

Cora immediately shrugs. “Then it’s no big thing. I felt a little tired but fine afterwards.”

“What about the risk to you?” Dave asks.

Stiles hesitates. “That one is a little harder to pin down.”

Dave—and pretty much everyone else—looks at Moira, clearly waiting for an unbiased answer.

“We don’t know what the effects will be on Stiles’ magic,” Moira admits. “We don’t know whether he’ll still have access to his magic after the ritual, at least outside of this territory. Those of us helping to power the spell are probably going to be pretty worthless afterward, but the risks won’t be the same.”

“I think some of us should refrain from participating,” Parrish says. “Not that we wouldn’t, but the hunters could use that as an opportunity to attack.”

“It’s possible,” Moira says. “Again, we’re not entirely sure how long it will take for the spell to take effect, especially if they’re already inside the territory.”

Kira glances at Scott, then says, “I think it makes sense for me and Parrish to stay outside the ritual. If they attack, they won’t be prepared for us.”

Stiles smirks. “No one is expecting someone who lights themselves on fire or suddenly electrocutes them, not when they’re expecting werewolves.”

“I’ll stand guard, too,” Paul offers. “You should have a deputy standing by.”

Moira nods. “I can’t deny that would be helpful. I don’t want to pressure anyone, but it would probably be best if most if not all of those with bonds created by either Stiles or Noah were involved.”

“I’m in,” Scott says. “You haven’t said anything that would scare us off.”

Malia nods. “I’m in.”

Boyd also nods. “We’re all in.”

Dave glances at Paul, then says, “I’m in.”

Tara is clearly hesitant, but after a moment, she nods. “To be honest, all of this freaks me right the fuck out, but I’m part of this pack, so I’m in.”

“You can watch the perimeter,” Noah says kindly. “We could probably use another deputy for that.”

Tara shakes her head. “No, I heard what Moira said. I’m not going to be the reason this doesn’t work.”

“That wouldn’t be the case,” Moira insists. “If you chose to sit this out, it wouldn’t affect the success or failure.”

Tara frowns. “But you don’t know that, not for sure.”

Derek watches Moira closely, and she eventually shakes her head. “No, this is all mostly guess work, but Stiles’ magic runs partially on belief. If that’s not possible—”

“Belief is not a problem with me,” Tara mutters. “I’ve seen and felt what Stiles can do. If he says this ritual is going to work, and it’s going to work by nudging people away who mean us harm, that’s what’s going to happen.”

Derek figures it’s more the fact that Tara doesn’t have a problem being a werewolf, and she doesn’t have a problem being part of the pack, but she’s not comfortable with the idea that she might wind up responsible for the kids.

“All right,” Moira says. “But if anyone does have doubts, I recommend they stay outside the ritual.”

No one else says anything, and Moira continues, “We’d like to test everyone participating in the ritual for their magical affinity, to best construct the circle.”

“I can do it easily enough,” Stiles offers. “Pretty sure I already know everyone’s already.”

Moira glances at him. “Are you sure? You should conserve your energy.”

Stiles points at Scott. “Earth.” Then he points at Cora and Erica in turn. “Air and fire.” Isaac’s affinity is water, and Stiles falters slightly over Malia. “Could be fire, could be earth.”

Noelani goes over to Malia. “Give me your hands, child.”

Malia shrugs and holds her outstretched hands. “It’s not going to hurt, is it?”

Noelani snorts. “No, not at all.” She’s quiet a moment, then says, “I can see why you’d be confused, Stiles. She’s almost perfectly balanced between both, but her primary affinity is actually spirit.”

Malia frowns. “Spirit? I’d rather be fire.”

Noelani laughs. “We can explore what that means at some later date, but it’s no bad thing. You’re plenty fiery.”

Derek is holding himself very still, really hoping that Stiles doesn’t say that his affinity is fire.

Stiles looks at Dave. “Water, actually.”

“My mom always said I was a water baby,” Dave jokes.

Stiles glances at Tara. “Air.”

Tara shrugs.

Stiles looks at Derek, and his lips quirk up in a smile, as though he’s sensing how uneasy Derek is. “Relax, dude. You and Dad are both earth.”

“Not a surprise,” Moira says briskly. “You’re both very rooted, and since the Hale spark is going to be tied to the earth, that’s to our benefit. We’ll have enough of the other elements to provide balance.”

Derek can live with that. He likes the idea of sharing an affinity with Noah and Stiles.

“Well, that’s done,” Stiles says. “We’ll figure out the best configuration. If you’re not in the inner circle, you pretty much just have to show up and believe.”

As far as Derek’s concerned, that’s enough.

Dave asks, “What time are we doing it?”

“When the moon has reached its zenith,” Moira says. “That’s when the pack will be at its full strength.”

Derek remembers when Scott had first been bitten, and the full moon had been a source of terror—of the loss of control, the Alpha, the hunters, hurting someone. Now, they still have to fear the hunters, but not the rest of it.

And now, the full moon represents their strength. He thinks it’s fitting.

“Two days, and we’ll have dinner here ahead of time,” Moira confirms.

Derek takes a deep breath. Maybe, in just a few days, they’ll have a measure of safety they’ve never had before.

~~~~~

Noah has been checking on their arrested hunters periodically, but there’s no movement. All of them have invoked their right to counsel, and they’re not speaking to anyone but their attorneys. There’s a litany of charges pending, enough to keep them behind bars until they go to trial.

It’s irritating, but that’s the system they’re working with, and there’s nothing to do about it but let the system work.

In the meantime, they’re still waiting on the phone companies to comply with the warrants and release the data.

Noah takes a deep breath as he closes the search he’s done on the last of their hunters. The full moon is that night, and he’s hoping they’re successful. Right now, every single shift is short, and they’re risking completely blowing their budget with overtime because Noah can’t risk sending his deputies out alone.

“Just have to let the system work,” Noah mutters to himself.

He’s about ready to leave when his phone rings, and Noah keeps his sigh purely internal. They need to get the ritual done, and Moira had been clear that Noah’s presence is entirely necessary.

“Stilinski,” he says.

“Noah, it’s Shelly,” she says. “I was just calling to check in, see how you were doing.”

It’s a nice gesture, and he appreciates it. “We’re hanging in there,” Noah replies. “Although, I’m a little concerned that we’re going to blow the budget with the overtime we’re racking up.”

“Still doubling up on patrol?” Morrison asks sympathetically.

“Yeah,” Noah says. “Things have been quiet since the last set of arrests, but I don’t trust it. Moira’s working on a solution, but she needs a little more time.”

Noah likes Sheriff Morrison a lot, and he trusts her more than most, but this is still his pack. He’s not going to talk about pack business with an outsider, not until the ritual is done.

If she senses he’s holding back, she doesn’t call him on it. “Good luck,” Morrison says. “Having met your kid, I can believe he’s capable of miracles both minor and major.”

“Yeah, finding out my kid was magic was probably the least surprising thing that’s happened in the last few years,” Noah admits. “How are things going for you?”

“Same old, same old,” Morrison says. “Thankfully, we haven’t had the problems with the hunters the way you have, and the supernatural elements have largely stayed away so far as I know.”

“Glad one of us has had some luck,” Noah comments.

Morrison hesitates. “Look, Noah, I know your business is your business, but people talk, and I hear things. So, I know Stiles has been out of school for a while.”

Noah sighs. “Yeah, official story is mono. Unofficially, the hunters came at him before they came after me. He’s fine, though.”

“Bad couple of days?” Morrison asks, voice deepening with sympathy.

Noah closes his eyes. “You could say that.”

“Anything I can do to help?” Morrison asks, and Noah knows she means that.

“I wish there were,” he replies, and he means that, too. “But I’ll let you know if that changes.”

“Hang in there, Noah,” she says. “You arrested four of them. They have to feel pretty wary at this point, since those four are still locked up.”

“Yeah, we’ve got that going for us,” Noah agrees. “Let’s hope the cases don’t fall apart.”

Morrison snorts. “They attacked a sitting sheriff in front of witnesses and were caught red-handed. The other one planted a device in the Sheriff’s house and got caught in the act. More evidence will help you net the others who helped, but these four are nabbed.”

Noah wishes he had her faith, but the hunters have proved slippery before. Then again, they now have Victoria in custody, so maybe his faith has been slightly restored.

Because of a hunter.

Hell, his life is just shades of gray these days, isn’t it?

“I hope you’re right,” Noah replies. “I appreciate you checking in, Shel, but I have a family thing tonight.”

“Nice night for it,” Morrison replies. “Skies are clear, and it shouldn’t be too cold.”

“Good thing,” Noah replies.

“Good luck, Noah,” she says. “Even if it’s not in an official capacity, if I can help, I will.”

“I’ll let you know,” Noah promises, and he means it.

That’s the end of the call, and Noah heads out of his office.

Mark is typing away at his desk, and he says, “I’m taking a double. I’ll be here until Rhonda catches a nap and comes back to spell me. Cindy’s running with Pete tonight, but they’re going to be around the Preserve. Tell Stiles good luck from me, and if he can cut down on crime in this area, I can take early retirement.”

Noah laughs. “I appreciate that, and I’ll pass that along to Stiles.”

Mark looks up at him. “We might not completely understand what’s going on, sir, but we know it’s going to change things. Just—get it done, so we can go back to normal.”

“Doing our best on that,” Noah says. “Thanks, Mark. And tell your wife that I appreciate her sacrifice.”

“Send her a nice bottle of wine,” Mark replies. “She prefers red. A nice shiraz or a cab.”

“I’ll ask Moira,” Noah says. “I know nothing about wine.”

“Probably for the best,” Mark says. “Although my wife is pretty forgiving when it comes to wine. Gift horses and all that.”

“Well, I’ll do my best,” Noah replies. “Mark…”

“Good luck to Stiles,” Mark says. “And I mean that.”

“Look, Mark, this is weird and I know it’s asking a lot, but I’m asking you to believe that my kid can do whatever he’s going to do tonight,” Noah says. “Because belief matters.”

Mark just smiles. “Oh, that’s a done deal, sir. I’ve told everyone there’s a thing tonight, and it’s going to work. Everyone in the station knows to pray to whatever deity they believe in that we get some relief from these fucking assholes.”

“Your faith is welcome,” Noah says. “And appreciated.”

He has no idea if it will make a difference, but at this point, he figures every little bit helps.

Noah makes the drive to the house in silence, mentally preparing himself. It’s not the first time that the pack—or part of it—will be present while the coven conducts a ritual, but it is the first time the entire pack will play such a large role.

In truth, it feels a bit like they’ve always been heading in this direction, to the pack and the coven working together. He just hadn’t thought that it would be a sanctuary spell, and so soon.

There are more than half a dozen vehicles parked in front of the house, so it looks as though everyone has arrived.

Noah heads straight back to his bedroom, quickly getting changed out of uniform into clothes he’d feel comfortable wearing on a hike. After a moment’s thought, he also grabs his shoulder holster, because he’s going be armed just in case.

The pack is ranged around the kitchen, dining room, den, and the back patio. Noah wraps an arm around Stiles’ shoulders where he’s stirring a vat of sauce on the stove. “How’s it going, kiddo?”

“Good,” Stiles says easily. “Another few minutes, and we can eat.”

“You nervous?” he asks, thinking it would be natural if he were.

Stiles glances up at him. “Now, why would I be nervous? It’s only the biggest work of magic that I’ll probably ever do,” he jokes.

“So, a little nervous,” Noah observes.

“Maybe a little,” Stiles confirms. “But we’ve been going over it all day, enough that I could probably do it in my sleep.”

Noah nods. “You’ll be fine.”

Moira is stirring the pasta in a huge pot on the stove, and she adds, “You are fully capable of huge works of magic, and this isn’t even the first of many, I’m sure.”

Stiles glances at her. “Like what?”

“The pack bonds?” Moira reminds him. “Saving Derek’s life? This is just one more.”

“There you go,” Noah says, patting Stiles on the shoulder. “It’s just another six impossible things before breakfast—just after pasta this time.”

Stiles’ quick grin is the only answer Noah gets.

Scott is tossing a salad, and Noah pauses to give him a hug as well. “How’s your mom, Scott? I haven’t seen much of her lately.”

Scott shrugs. “She’s been picking up extra shifts at the hospital, but she’s good. She says she wants to put money away for my college.”

The other kids are in the dining room and den, and Noah checks in with each of them. Erica and Cora are duking it out over a game of Mario Kart with Isaac, Boyd, Kira, Lydia, and Malia watching. He hears voices outside, and finds his deputies—Derek, Parrish, Tara, Dave, and Paul—chatting next to the blazing fire pit, along with Noelani, Alana, and Danny.

It’s a big crowd, but having everyone there causes something in Noah’s chest to relax. The moon is rising, and he can feel its pull, but that’s become a comfort, rather than a threat to his control.

He strolls over to the edge of the patio and looks out into the Preserve. After a moment, Dave comes to stand next to him. “Everything good?”

Noah shrugs. “Mark’s holding down the fort until Rhonda spells him, and Pete and Cindy are going to patrol nearby.”

“And how are you feeling about all this?” Dave asks.

Noah shrugs. “I’ll be glad when this is over.”

“The hunters will still be out there,” Dave points out. “And we still have the investigations to run.”

“But we’ll have some measure of security against them,” Noah says. “At least, that’s the goal.”

Dave glances at him. “We’ll get it done. We usually do.”

Noah nods. “True.”

There’s usually a festive feel during a full moon gathering, but tonight, everyone wears a more serious expression. When Stiles calls them in for dinner, Noah can see that besides the vat of sauce and pasta, two foil pans have been removed from the oven, filled with a baked pasta.

“Alana brought one, and Dave and Paul brought the other,” Stiles says in an undertone. “We should have plenty.”

People fill their plates, then range around the dining room table, the den, or the fire pit outside. Noah digs into the pasta with ragu sauce with enthusiasm, sopping up stray bits of sauce with garlic bread, and eating his salad with slightly less enthusiasm.

Stiles sits down next to him and begins eating with a single-minded focus. Noah notices that his plate isn’t as full as he’d expect, and he gives Stiles a look. “You okay?”

“Just eating lightly for right now,” Stiles replies. “If I’m hungry after the ritual, I’ll dig into the leftovers.”

Noah lets that go when he sees Moira’s nod. She’s sitting at the other end of the table, and says, “It’s better to eat lightly before a ritual like this one, at least for those of us doing the magic.”

Lydia sits next to Stiles, and she also has a small portion of pasta and a salad, but no garlic bread.

Silence descends as everyone eats the excellent food, and once everyone has their fill, they all pitch in to clean up and put everything away.

“All right,” Moira says, once all that is done. “We’re going to hike to the Nemeton from here. Please use that time to think about the work ahead of us, and focus on it being successful.”

There are nods around the room, and everyone dons coats and hats, and—if appropriate—weapons. Kira has her sword hanging in a scabbard across her back, and Parrish and Paul are in uniform and wearing their service weapons. Parrish grabs his shotgun, and Paul has an automatic rifle strapped to his chest.

Tara, Dave, and Derek aren’t wearing their uniforms, but they also have their service weapons on their hips. Noah shrugs on his shoulder holster, and pulls his coat on over it.

And then they start the hike out to the Nemeton. Noah walks next to Stiles, and Stiles bumps Noah’s shoulder with his own. He doesn’t try to make conversation, though, and Noah lets the silence hang, hearing the leaves crunch under their feet, feeling the cold air on his face, seeing the moon rising before them.

There’s some murmured conversation, but for the most part, everyone is quiet, and Noah thinks they’re following Moira’s instructions: focus on the ritual, and being successful.

It takes time to hike out, but they arrive as the moon begins to reach its zenith.

The stump of the old Nemeton looks like it’s crumbling, disintegrating in on itself. The new Nemeton stands tall and strong. Noah estimates the trunk is about a foot in diameter now, looking like a much older tree than what he knows it is.

Stiles squeezes Noah’s arm and offers a smile. “Showtime.”

He takes his place just north of the new Nemeton, and Danny stands across from him. Alana, Noelani, and Lydia also take their places in the circle, leaving a spot open for Moira. Moira begins to direct the pack members to form a circle around the coven and the tree.

Noah stands immediately behind Stiles, Derek on his right, Scott on his left. The other pack members are directed to stand behind those whose affinities match their own. Kira, Parrish, and Paul hold their weapons, starting to move around the outer circle, standing guard.

Stiles glances over his shoulder at Noah, and he says, “See you on the other side, Pops.”

He holds his hands out, and he begins to speak.

~~~~~

Stiles takes a deep breath, and he can feel the magic of the Nemeton calling to him, ready to embrace him. Moira had warned him that the Nemeton would take everything he had to give if he wasn’t careful, and now Stiles is ready to do just that.

“Guardians of the north, we invoke you. May the earth from which we come embrace and protect us,” Stiles says.

Moira follows. “Guardians of the west, we invoke you. May the water that nourishes us cleanse the land from strife.”

Danny calls on fire to purge the territory from threats, Lydia for spirits to discern who might wish them harm, and Alana for air to clear the territory from all harm.

Stiles takes up the ritual again at that point. “We seek sanctuary from our enemies, and peace for this coven and pack. Let those who intend us harm be turned away, and let our magic and the strength of our pack provide the foundation of this sanctuary.”

With that, Stiles begins to pour his magic into the Nemeton, and he can feel the rest of the coven and the pack give their own magic and strength. He visualizes that magic flowing into the Nemeton, then back out again, to create an invisible barrier around Beacon Hills and its environs, and anywhere the Nemeton’s influence can be felt.

Stiles isn’t sure whether it’s working, but then he can feel the magic start to radiate out from the Nemeton, and golden beams of light burst from the trunk. Those beams connect to every member of the coven and the pack, filling the clearing with warm, golden light.

He can feel the connection to each person present, and sees the web of light forming, connecting all of them to the Nemeton and to each other.

“Now, Stiles, call for judgment,” Moira says.

Stiles nods and says in a loud voice, “Wielding magic is a grave responsibility, and a druid has acted against me and mine with malice. We call for judgment on Alan Deaton for the actions he took to destroy a spark, and for the harm he caused me and this pack.”

Stiles thinks he gets an affirmative response, and the sense that Deaton will face some sort of consequences for his role in things.

The magic begins to subside, the light drawing back into the Nemeton, seeming to light it from the inside. It glows gold for several long moments before the light fades away.

Silence falls over the clearing, and Stiles says, “May the circle be open but unbroken.”

“Well, that was something,” Dave mutters. “I wasn’t expecting a light show.”

“We weren’t really sure what to expect,” Stiles admits. “But—I think it worked.”

“It worked,” Moira asserts. “I can feel it.”

Stiles is willing to take her word for it. “Is everyone okay?”

“I feel pretty good,” Danny says. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Courtesy of the Nemeton,” Stiles says. “She tends to give back as much as she gets in my experience.”

“I could get used to that,” Noelani comments. “That was—uniquely powerful.”

Alana hums. “I could feel the pack bonds. That was a new experience.”

Stiles looks at his dad. “You okay, Dad?”

His dad pulls Stiles into a tight hug. “Yeah, I’m good, kid. That was…” He trails off, not letting go of Stiles.

Stiles honestly has no idea how he feels right now. The ritual had gone off without a hitch, and he’s nearly certain that it worked, although only time will tell how well.

But maybe Stiles has bought them that time with his sacrifice—not that his magic feels any different right now.

His dad finally releases him, and Lydia grabs his hand. “How does your magic feel?”

“The same as it always has,” Stiles admits. “Honestly, I wasn’t expecting anything else. When I try leaving Beacon Hills, that’s when I’ll find out what this cost me.”

Lydia’s hand tightens around his, and she doesn’t bother trying to offer any platitudes. Walking back towards the house, though, Stiles thinks it’s a price worth paying.

For one amazing moment, Stiles had been connected to his coven and his pack, and there isn’t much he wouldn’t give up to keep them all safe.

They’re about halfway back to the house when his dad’s cell phone rings. His dad fishes it out of his pocket, and answers, “Stilinski.” There’s a pause. “Yeah, we’re good, Rhonda. What’s up?”

The deputies are all looking at each other, and Stiles figures they’re wondering if an emergency is going to take them back to the station.

“Huh,” his dad finally says. “Well, that’s a new one for me. I guess go ahead and book him on conspiracy charges, and we’ll see if we can hold him later.”

His dad ends the call and tucks his phone back in his pocket.

“Noah?” Derek prompts, glancing at Stiles.

“That was Rhonda,” his dad replies, clearly bemused. “Apparently, someone just walked into the station to turn himself in for being part of the group that attacked me.”

Dave is walking just ahead of his dad, and he turns around to stare at him. “Are you shitting me, sir?”

His dad shakes his head. “Nope. That’s what Rhonda said. She’s going to book him, and we’ll figure out what sticks later.”

Tara is shaking her head. “What the actual fuck is my life?”

Moira approaches Stiles’ other side and wraps an arm around his shoulders. “That was good work tonight, young spark. You created the first sanctuary town in a generation.”

Stiles just shakes his head. “I think we did that. It was all of us.”

And it was all of them—the coven, the pack, his dad’s deputies, and whoever else had lent them their faith.

---