Reading Time: 150 Minutes

Title: A Wise Father
Series: What We Gain
Series Order: 1
Author: enigmaticblue
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Genre: Action Adventure, Drama, Family
Relationship(s): Gen
Content Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Torture (consistent with canon)
Word Count: 65,000
Summary: Noah Stilinski knows his kid, and when he starts paying attention, things change.
Artist: Ringspell

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“It is a wise father that knows his own child.” ~ William Shakespeare

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Chapter 1

Noah Stillinski is certain of three things the moment that the words leave Stiles’ mouth, confirming that yes, he had seen Derek Hale at the high school. One: Stiles and Scott would back each other up even in the face of a mountain of evidence to the contrary. Two: Derek Hale is not the sort of person to kill three people and manipulate a situation so as to terrorize five high school students.

And three: had Stiles actually seen Derek Hale do something that would make him the sole suspect in three murders, he would have run down the evidence in detail.

After all, Stiles has utilized a crime board since he was old enough to know what Noah does for a living.

Still, for the moment, he does have enough information to at least put out a BOLO, although he stops short of listing Derek as a person of interest until he can review the statements from the other kids.

Stiles’ Jeep is going to need to be towed, which gives him the perfect excuse to take Scott home and grill his kid. Scott is having what looks like an emotional conversation with the Argent girl, and Noah calls, “Scott! Let’s go!”

Stiles is watching Scott with a gaze that’s both worried and a little exasperated, and he’s fidgety. Noah’s eyes narrow when Stiles rubs the back of his neck, which is a tell.

He’s upset and frustrated by the number of deaths, the murders, the mayhem, most of which is inexplicable. He also hates the fact that Stiles seems to be right in the middle of it—Stiles and his friends, and all of them are just kids.

Noah knows that he’ll be back at the station before the night is out to review reports and formulate a strategy. He’s probably going to be forced to call in the Staties, but he’ll pick up the phone tomorrow morning.

Right now, he needs to get some additional information from Stiles, because he doesn’t quite believe the story that’s been spun.

Scott slinks into the back of the Noah’s Jeep, chin on his chest, looking sullen.

Stiles sits in the front passenger seat, fingers drumming on his thigh, casting worried looks over his shoulder approximately every five seconds.

Noah knows that he’s not going to get the truth out of Stiles, not with Scott there. Scott had been the one insisting the culprit was Derek Hale; Stiles isn’t going to go against Scott with Scott in the back seat.

“Thanks for the ride,” Scott says when Noah pulls up in front of his house. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Stiles.”

“Yeah, sure, dude,” Stiles replies. “See you at school.”

Noah waits until they’re halfway home before he says, “You want to try telling me the truth?”

“I did tell you the truth!” Stiles immediately protests.

“Are you telling me that Derek Hale lured you kids to the high school, ripped the battery out of your Jeep, and killed the janitor?” Noah asks. “Because if that had been the case, you would have provided a detailed statement, not a confirmation that Hale was there and you saw him.”

Stiles opens his mouth, and Noah holds up a hand. “And I know the difference between seeing him there, and him being responsible.”

Stiles scrubs his hands over his face. “Dad—you know eye witness testimony is notoriously unreliable.”

“I do know that,” Noah replies. “But I actually have some confidence in your observational skills, which is why I’m asking you for the truth.”

Stiles is quiet for a couple of long minutes, long enough for Noah to pull up in front of their house.

“And while I’m comfortable putting a BOLO out on Derek Hale, I need to know what I’m putting on the wire,” Noah points out. “Because if I say he’s a person of interest in several deaths, folks might very well shoot first and ask questions later.”

Stiles chews on his bottom lip. “It wasn’t Derek. I mean, Derek kind of kidnapped Dr. Deaton, so he’s definitely responsible for that much.”

“But not the murders?” Noah asks.

Stiles shakes his head. “Last I saw Derek Hale, he was in no shape to harm anybody.”

“Why did Scott lie?” Noah asks.

“Heat of the moment?” Stiles hazards. “Everybody was freaking out, and Scott pinned things on the first person who came to mind. Scott’s head isn’t exactly clear. It hasn’t been since Allison came into the picture.”

Noah thinks there might be a little more—or a lot more—to it than what Stiles is telling him, but he at least knows why he’s putting a BOLO out on Hale. “All right, get out of here,” Noah says. “I have to go to the station.”

Stiles grimaces. “Yeah.”

“Get some sleep,” Noah advises.

Stiles hesitates. “Dad, you won’t tell Scott that I told you it wasn’t Derek who killed those people?”

“It’s an ongoing investigation, Stiles,” Noah says dryly. “I’m not going to tell Scott anything.”

He heads into the station and motions to two of his deputies who are working on their reports. “Do you have the statements from the other kids?”

Tara Graeme glances up. “To be honest, Sheriff, we didn’t get much sense out of them.”

“They say anything about Derek Hale?” Noah asks.

Tara shrugs. “That the McCall boy blamed everything on him.”

“Did they see him?” Noah asks.

Tara shakes her head. “A dark shape. They’ll need to be reinterviewed once they’re not quite so freaked out.”

Noah nods. “You’ll have to go through their parents to do it. I’ll call Whittemore tomorrow myself.”

“You got it, Sheriff,” Tara replies. “I’ll contact the other parents and make arrangements first thing in the morning.”

Noah flips open a case file on his desk, and then sits back and rubs his eyes. Nothing about what’s going on makes any sense at all. They have reports of wolves, and there are no wolves in California; the experts all agree.

The deaths seem random right now, but Noah’s gut tells him that there’s a connection. He can’t see it yet, but there’s something there.

Tara pokes her head into his office. “I’m putting together the BOLO on Hale now, Sheriff. What do you want me to say?”

“List him as a potential witness,” Noah replies.

“Not a person of interest?” Tara queries.

Noah shakes his head. “Stiles said that Scott was mistaken, and I’m not going to name him as a triple-murderer without something more than conflicting eyewitness statements.”

Tara nods. “Sounds good. I knew the Hales, and they were all good people. I can’t picture one of them as a serial killer.”

“Yeah, that’s not my gut feeling either,” Noah replies.

He’s exhausted, and with that sorted, he decides to head home for a few hours of sleep.

~~~~~

Stiles has the coffee going when Noah wakes up the next morning, a clear sign of guilt. “So, about my Jeep,” Stiles begins.

“I’ll call the tow company this morning,” Noah replies. “We’ll get it fixed.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Stiles says, sounding subdued.

“But I want you to come straight home after school,” Noah says. “You can study for that upcoming chemistry test. Do not pass go, do not collect $200.”

Stiles opens his mouth, probably to argue, and Noah glares at him. “I’m serious, Stiles. I want you home tonight.”

Stiles subsides. “Yeah, okay. I promise. You’re right, I should study.”

“Good,” Noah says. “Don’t forget that I can track your phone.”

Stiles slumps in his chair. “Dad! That’s a bridge too far!”

“You were trapped in a school with a serial killer,” Noah replies. “I don’t think you have the grounds for argument here.”

Stiles sighs dramatically. “Fine. I get it. I’ll be home right after school today.”

“Good,” Noah says.

He collects the spare keys to Stiles’ Jeep, drops Stiles off in front of the school, and then drives around to the parking lot where the Jeep is—well, parked doesn’t seem to be the right word.

The hood is crumpled, and the battery has very obviously been ripped out, not just removed.

Noah frowns and leans in as he examines the hood a little more closely. There are deep scratch marks in the paint, almost like it had been keyed, but it’s deeper than that, ragged, and—

He runs a hand over those scratches and realizes that if he didn’t know better, he’d think they were claw marks.

Noah runs a hand over his face, blinks, and refocuses. He’s sure that he’s seeing things, but he’s not an idiot, and he’s been doing this job a long time, so he uses his phone to snap a picture.

He sticks around to wait for the tow truck, turning things over in his mind.

Noah decides his next stop is the animal clinic, where he finds a still-inscrutable Deaton. The veterinarian is behind the counter, and Noah realizes that other than Scott, Deaton doesn’t really have anyone working for him.

“Sheriff, what can I do for you?” Deaton asks as Noah enters, an enigmatic smile on his face.

“Just wanted to follow up with you about the events of last night,” Noah says, keeping a genial tone.

Deaton smiles. “How kind of you.”

“I wanted to get some clarification on something Stiles said to me,” Noah says. He’s used to playing the bumbling rural sheriff, and it’s rare for people to see behind the mask. “He said that he didn’t think Hale had committed the murders, but that he had kidnapped you.”

“Is that what he said?” Deaton asks. “Not to disparage your son, but he’s mistaken. Derek and I had a misunderstanding, that’s all.”

“So, you aren’t going to be pressing charges?” Noah nudges.

Deaton lets out a gentle, scoffing noise. “No, of course not. I knew Derek’s parents, and he’s obviously struggling over the loss of his sister, which is completely understandable. As I said, it was a simple misunderstanding, which I’m sure we’ll clear up in due time.”

Noah nods slowly. “I see. And you didn’t see anything last night to indicate that Derek might have been responsible for the deaths?”

“I thought most of the deaths had been attributed to animal attacks,” Deaton says. “Isn’t that why you consulted me?”

Noah nods. “Yes, it is. Well, I just wanted to check in with you. Thanks for your time.”

“Of course, Sheriff,” Deaton replies.

Noah sighs as he leaves, and he has the distinct feeling that he’s still in the dark, and Deaton knows far more than he’s willing to say.

~~~~~

Stiles knows that he’s betrayed Scott, in a way, by telling his dad that Derek Hale wasn’t the murderer. Not that there’s any way that he’s going to tell Scott as much. Scott doesn’t have a police scanner, and Scott is going to be too distracted by his faltering relationship with Allison to care.

During English class, Stiles checks his phone for any updates from the Beacon Hills newspaper.

No Answers On The Recent Wild Animal Attacks reads the first headline Stiles sees. There’s a passing reference to the incident at the high school the previous night, and that the sheriff’s office is looking into it, but nothing about Derek Hale.

Stiles breathes a sigh and tucks his phone away, figuring that the paper would have reported a manhunt if there had been a warrant out for Derek.

He enters the cafeteria, looking around for Scott, but he doesn’t see him.

Stiles grabs his food and eats his lunch as quickly as he can, then goes looking for Scott, figuring that his best friend is avoiding the cafeteria and Allison, who’s eating with Lydia and Jackson.

He moves through the halls, looking for Scott, but not finding him before the bell rings.

Stiles has economics with Scott that afternoon, but Scott won’t talk to him—won’t even look at him. He’s so sunk in misery, and probably feeling the upcoming full moon, that Scott ignores him.

Stiles makes a resolution to take Scott out and get him drunk as soon as he has his Jeep back.

They don’t have lacrosse practice that day, and Scott takes off on his bike as soon as the final bell rings.

Stiles stares after him, feeling a welling despair. He does’t know how to keep Scott safe, how to keep his dad safe. How to keep everyone safe.

His phone vibrates with a text from his dad. I’m out front.

Stiles blinks, and then jogs outside to see his dad in his sheriff’s vehicle. He climbs into the passenger’s seat and drops his backpack on the floor. “You didn’t have to pick me up.”

“I wanted to,” his dad replies. “How was school?”

“Scott isn’t talking to me,” Stiles complains. “He’s pining after Allison.”

“You can’t really blame him for that, can you?” his dad asks.

Stiles slumps against the passenger-side door. “No, I guess not. I didn’t see anything about Derek Hale in the news.”

“That’s because I put a BOLO out on him as a potential witness,” his dad says. “Deaton said it was a misunderstanding, and that Derek is suffering from the loss of his sister.”

Stiles blinks. “Really?”

“He’s not pressing charges.” His dad shrugs. “My hands are tied. None of the other kids back up Scott’s story, and you said yourself that you thought he’d been injured.”

“He was definitely injured,” Stiles mutters, trying to sort things out in his head. Deaton had been kidnapped, but isn’t holding it against Derek. The sheriff’s department isn’t pursuing Derek, except as a witness, and that’s probably a good thing.

“Well, no one has seen hide nor hair of him,” his dad replies. “By the way, did you hit a wild animal with your Jeep?”

Stiles blinks. “No, why?”

“Because it looked like there were claw marks in the paint on your hood,” his dad replies.

Stiles immediately understands what his dad is getting at. “If I had hit a wind animal, like the one attacking people, you’d be the first I would tell!” Stiles protests. “I mean, I’d probably be given the key to Beacon Hills if I managed to kill it with Roscoe, right?

His dad gives him a deeply suspicious look. “You didn’t answer the question.”

“I didn’t hit a wild animal,” Stiles insists. “In fact, my Jeep was spotless when we got to the school.”

His dad’s eyes narrow. “So, you’re saying that whatever attacked the janitor also put claw marks in your hood and ripped out the battery?”

Stiles realizes that his dad is getting disturbingly close to the truth. “I don’t know. How should I know? I didn’t get a good look at anyone, I told you that.”

His dad makes a frustrated sound. “All right. Your Jeep should be ready tomorrow morning. I’ll take you by there on the way to school.”

Stiles smiles. “Thanks, Dad.”

“I have to go back to the station,” his dad says. “Are you going to stay at home tonight?”

“Absolutely,” Stiles replies. “I’m pretty sure Scott is way too invested in moping to want to hang out.”

“Do your homework,” his dad says as he pulls up in front of their house. “Study. Be good. Remember I can track your phone.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “I remember.”

“Good,” his dad says. “Glad you do.”

Stiles opens the door. “Do you want me to cook dinner?”

“Yeah, if you would,” his dad replies. “Even if I have to go back after dinner, I’ll make time to eat with you.”

Stiles smiles. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Thank you in advance for cooking.” His dad reaches out and rubs his hand over Stiles’ head.

In that moment, Stiles wishes so badly that he could just spill everything, tell his dad about werewolves and hunters and the rest.

“Something you want to tell me?” his dad asks.

Stiles shakes his head. “No. I’m good.”

“I’ll see you in a few hours,” his dad says.

Stiles goes upstairs and drops his backpack on the floor. He glances at the clock and figures he has a couple of hours before he has to start dinner. He has chicken breasts in the fridge, as well as potatoes and frozen vegetables, so it’s going to be easy enough to throw dinner together.

Stiles knows that he has a chemistry test coming up, so he should start studying for that, as well as math homework and reading for English.

There are times when his ADD makes it difficult for him to focus, but Stiles has learned that if he switches off between tasks, he does better. A few math problems here, a chapter of The Great Gatsby, a few paragraphs of his chem text there.

At six, Stiles is mostly done with his tasks, and he heads downstairs to start dinner. After dinner, he plans to research other ways to corral a werewolf.

The full moon is coming up, and if the last month is any indication, Stiles can look forward to an irrational Scott who is hellbent on being a dumbass.

His dad comes through the front door at 6:30 on the dot, just as Stiles is finishing up dinner, and his dad smiles at him. “Smells good, kiddo. Thanks. Did you finish your homework?”

Stiles shrugs. “Most of it. I still have a few things left to do, but I’ll get it done soon.”

His dad smiles at him. “Glad to hear it.”

“Do you have to go back to work?” Stiles asks.

His dad grimaces. “I’d better. I just can’t make sense of any of this.”

Stiles feels awful. He could tell his dad what he knows, and maybe that would offer some answers, but he also wants to keep his dad safe. He doesn’t want his dad caught up in any of this, or be forced to deal with the complexities presented by werewolves and hunters.

But what if his dad had put a BOLO out on Derek Hale as a suspect, and wound up confronting him? What if his dad faces a werewolf without knowing?

“I’m sorry,” Stiles blurts out.

“Not your fault, son,” his dad replies.

But it is his fault, Stiles thinks. He’d been the one to drag Scott out to the woods to look for a dead body. If it weren’t for Stiles, Scott wouldn’t be a werewolf. Maybe they wouldn’t be involved at all.

~~~~~

Noah had picked up the phone to the state police as soon as he got to the station after overseeing the towing of Stiles’ Jeep. He’s told they’ll have someone there the very next day, but that leaves Noah to figure out what’s going on.

He just can’t quite figure out what the connection is between the victims, but he feels like it’s there.

Noah pulls the rap sheets on all the victims, as well as employment history, and he starts getting an inclination. The video store clerk had been convicted of arson. The bus driver had been involved in the investigation of the Hale fire. Laura Hale had been one of the few Hales to survive the fire.

From what Noah has been able to figure out, Laura had taken her brother to New York right after and stayed there, so he assumes she had a reason for coming back to Beacon Hills recently.

Noah hadn’t been able to get that information from Derek, but maybe Derek hadn’t known. Maybe Laura had kept her baby brother in the dark.

When Noah sees him again, he’ll be sure to ask.

He has other cases, too, not just the animal attacks—mostly drugs, property crimes, and other non-violent offenses. Noah tries to split his attention, but in the back of his mind, there is always The Case. The murders, the attacks—whatever you wanted to call them.

Noah pulls up in front of his house and looks up, seeing the light burning in Stiles’ window. He heads inside and climbs the stairs, poking his head into his son’s room. “They called. Your Jeep is ready, although it’s probably going to need a paint job to take care of those claw marks.”

Stiles gives a full-body flinch, and that raises Noah’s suspicions. Not that he’s involved in the murders, Noah doesn’t believe that, but he thinks Stiles knows more than what he’s saying.

He resolves to keep a sharp eye out.

“Good to know,” Stiles replies. “I’m, uh, going to take Scott out tomorrow night, okay? He’s still moping after Allison.”

“You know that’s probably going to be true for a while,” Noah replies. “It takes time to get over a broken heart, you know.”

Stiles bobs his head. “Yeah, I know. You’ll give me a ride tomorrow?”

“Of course,” Noah replies. “I’m going to grab some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Sure thing, Daddio,” Stiles replies.

Noah goes to his own bedroom and wishes that his wife were still here. Claudia would know how to talk to Stiles, how to get him to open up.

She had always been so good at that. Noah is terrible at talking about feelings, and he has no idea how to get through to his kid.

Noah feels the weight of exhaustion dragging at him the next morning. Ever since Laura Hale’s body—well, half of it to start with—turned up, Noah has been exhausted. He doesn’t see it getting better any time soon.

Stiles also looks absolutely wrung out, and he slumps in the passenger seat, his forehead leaning against the window.

“You okay there, Stiles?” Noah asks.

Stiles nods. “Yeah, I’m fine. I was just up late in a research spiral.” He forces a smile. “A little more coffee, and I’ll be good as new.”

Noah pulls up in front of the shop where they always take Stiles’ Jeep. Sometimes duct tape will fix it, but other times, only the repair shop will do.

He’s willing to pay this time, since it hadn’t been Stiles’ fault, and Noah likes not having to chauffeur Stiles around.

Noah does take a surreptitious look at the hood, just to make sure he hadn’t been imagining things, but they still look like just what he’d called them.

Claw marks from something big.

“I’ll see you when I see you!” Stiles calls once Noah pays.

“Be careful!” Noah cautions him. “I mean it. Stay out of trouble.”

Stiles gives him an airy wave, which doesn’t actually make him feel any better.

Noah goes into the station and checks in with his deputies. “Staties called, and they can’t be here until Monday now,” Tara tells him.

Noah isn’t too surprised. They need the help, but it’s not like they have a potential hit list. There’s no indication as to when the next body is going to drop, or who it’s going to be.

Meanwhile, there are the usual crimes to investigate. Noah follows up on the inquiry into the influx of club drugs, as well as a spate of property crimes that are probably just kids getting up to criminal mischief.

Noah puts in a full day, and then sticks around to oversee the night shift coming on board, review reports, and then look at the budget, because he hasn’t had a chance yet before the end of the month.

It’s nearly midnight by the time Noah gets home, and he’s relieved to see Stiles’ Jeep sitting in the driveway. He takes a moment to check in on his son, sprawled out spread-eagle on his bed.

Noah closes his bedroom door, and is grateful that his kid is home safe.

~~~~~

Stiles wakes up Saturday morning with a massive hangover and a mountain of regret. He’s glad the only person to witness his drunken ramblings about his love for Lydia Martin had been Scott. If he’d done that in front of anyone else, it would have been all over school by Monday morning.

He drags himself to the shower, and the hot water revives him somewhat. The coffee helps even more, and Stiles rummages through the fridge to see if there’s anything for breakfast that will settle his queasy stomach.

“You want donuts, kiddo?” his dad asks, coming into the kitchen. “I’ll buy.”

Stiles starts. “I thought you were going to the station today.”

“Thought I could get more work done here,” his dad replies. “Come on.”

Stiles is glad that he’d been able to shower off the smell of Jack, and he’s really hoping that his dad doesn’t figure out that he’s down one bottle.

“Yeah, sure, donuts sound good,” Stiles says.

“What’s on deck for this weekend?” his dad asks.

“I have a chemistry test Monday morning,” Stiles admits. “So, I need to study for that. And I’ll probably do the laundry, too. I know you’ve been busy at the station.”

His dad smiles. “Thanks, Stiles. I appreciate that.”

Stiles has been cooking and doing laundry since he was old enough to reach and figure out how not to ruin things. His dad takes his uniforms to the dry cleaner, because he prefers just the right amount of starch, and Stiles doesn’t have the hang of it yet.

Their favorite donut place has great coffee, and they both sit in a booth with a carafe and their chosen donuts—a bearclaw for his dad and a Long John with butterscotch filling for Stiles.

His dad looks at Stiles’ donut askance. “I really don’t see how you can consume that much sugar in one sitting.”

“It’s study fuel, pops,” Stiles says cheerfully and takes a huge bite.

His dad just shakes his head. “I hope you know what you’re doing. How did things go with Scott last night?”

Stiles can’t tell his dad that he’d taken Scott out drinking. “Fine, I guess, but he hasn’t really been himself recently.”

He also can’t tell his dad that he has no idea whether Scott’s weird personality changes are due to being dumped by Allison, or the upcoming full moon.

“It’s been two days,” his dad says, sounding amused. “I told you that it takes time to get over a broken heart.”

Stiles snorts. “A mopey Scott I could handle, but he’s weirdly angry, and you know that’s not exactly like him.”

His dad see-saws his hand back and forth. “I know I’ve seen Scott angry.”

“Yeah, but that was like a level six,” Stiles replies. “I’m talking about an eleven.”

His dad nods. “What are you going to do?”

“Probably convince him to do a Call of Duty marathon at some point this weekend,” Stiles admits. “Maybe that will help him work through some of his feelings.”

“Maybe,” his dad replies. “Is there anything I can do?”

Stiles shakes his head. “No, but thanks, Dad.”

“Anything else going on that I should know about?” he asks.

There’s a part of Stiles that just wants to spill everything, but even if he weren’t worried about his dad’s safety in the face of werewolves, he has no idea how he would convince him.

“I’m good,” Stiles insists. “Just the usual high school drama. You know how it is.”

His dad snorts. “I do have vague recollections.”

They finish up their donuts, and then head back home, and it’s kind of nice for Stiles to bring his chemistry textbook down to the dining room table to work in companionable silence with his dad while Stiles studies and does the laundry.

Stiles makes dinner that night, although he keeps it easy—a quick chicken stir-fry and rice.

He does text Scott to see if he wants to study together or play video games, but Scott doesn’t reply.

Stiles sighs and decides to unwind by playing some solo games. He has a feeling that he won’t be hearing from Scott at all this weekend.

~~~~~

Noah gets a weird feeling when he meets with the representative of the state police on Monday morning, right before they head over to the school to survey the scene of the latest crime.

The man seems to be perfectly professional, and he’s wearing a sharp suit, but he asks a couple of questions about wild animals in the area, and whether they’ve run into any other bodies that have been cut in half.

Noah has to admit that he had, back when he was a deputy.

“And that was never solved?” the state detective asks, and Noah wonders if Detective Bob Smith from the California Bureau of Investigation has some ulterior motive.

He’s not feeling great about the assistance he’s getting. Noah also isn’t feeling great about the fact that Stiles is sitting outside the office.

“I thought you had a chemistry test,” Noah says as Stiles scrambles to his feet.

“I do,” Stiles says. “But I know this isn’t something that you typically handle.”

“Which is why I’ve called for help from people who have,” Noah says patiently. “Go take your test.”

“Dad, please,” Stiles says. “Please be careful.”

Stiles seems genuinely freaked out, and Noah replies, “I always am.” He’s well aware that he’s Stiles’ only remaining parent.

“No, I know, but just promise me your’e going to be careful, especially tonight,” Stiles nearly begs.

Noah pats him on the shoulder. “Of course. Go take your test.”

He watches as Stiles jogs down the hall and tries to figure out what’s going on that night specifically, because Stiles’ voice had nearly broken on that word.

Noah frowns as he rejoins his deputies and the state officer. “Everything okay?” Smith asks.

Noah nods. “It’s just my son. He worries. Is there anything special about tonight?”

It’s the state police detective who responds. “Tonight is the full moon, Sheriff. You didn’t know?”

“Never been all that interested in astronomy,” Noah says dryly. “I’ve always been a little more interested in things firmly rooted on Planet Earth.”

But that does beg the question as to why Stiles thought he might be in more danger on the full moon—and then he remembers the claw marks.

Noah runs a hand through his hair and wonders if he’s going just a little bit crazy with the thoughts that are going through his head. Wolf attacks where there are no wolves in California; claw marks in Stiles’ Jeep; Stiles being worried about the full moon.

“Has there been any sightings of Derek Hale?” Smith asks.

Noah shakes his head. “No, he seems to have gone to ground. But while he might be a witness to what happened, the only person who thought he might be involved was Scott McCall. No one else saw him, other than my son, and Stiles said he was injured and never entered the building.”

“Do you trust your kid over the McCall boy?” he asks.

Noah frowns. “Yeah, I do. Stiles might be a little shit sometimes, but he’s observant as hell. If he says Hale was too injured to do anything, then he was too injured to do anything. Good chance if he was injured, he’s decided to hole up somewhere.”

In his interactions with Hale, Noah got the feeling that he was distrustful of authority, and he does wonder where that comes from. The Hale family helped build the town, and they’d had multiple family members in law enforcement and government.

Then again, there had been the fire, and Laura had moved them across the country, and there has to be plenty of trauma. Trauma can change a person and their perspective of the world.

Noah spends the day with the state police officer revisiting various crime scenes. The man doesn’t crack a smile or a joke the entire time, and Noah doesn’t quite know what to do with that.

Yes, Noah is serious on the job, but it’s not as though he never smiles.

He gets a text from Stiles around dinner time, letting him know that Scott is having a rough time, and he’s going to spend the evening cheering him up.

Noah goes home for long enough to make a sandwich and eat it, and then he heads back to the station. Around ten, he’s thinking about heading home, and then he gets a call about another body found in the woods.

“Call the state detective,” Noah tells dispatch. “Let him know where to meet us.”

He puts on his gun belt and grabs his keys and his cell phone, and then heads out to the scene. Dispatch has already called the ambulance to take the body to the hospital, which has the only morgue in town, and there are a couple of deputies on scene already.

Noah follows the commotion into the woods, nodding approvingly when he sees Dave from the night shift photographing the scene. The body is resting next to an overturned barrel that has scorch marks, which makes sense, since the body is half-burned, the mouth open in a rictus of a scream.

Noah glances at Dave. “You got the pictures you need?”

“You’re okay to approach, Sheriff,” Dave replies.

Noah kneels down next to the body, shaking his head. Below the waist, the body is mostly intact, although there’s blood on the right leg, jeans torn in places. Noah leans a little closer, and if he didn’t know better, he’d say that a giant, clawed hand had grabbed the victim by the ankle.

But he does know better.

And then he thinks about what Stiles said, the mention of the full moon, and the scratches (claw marks) on the hood of Stiles’ Jeep.

Suddenly, Noah wonders if he knows anything at all.

He rummages in the still-intact pockets, and finds a wallet in the right back one. Noah has a vague recollection of seeing the name Unger before, but he has a pretty good memory for anybody who gets into trouble in his county.

“Anybody we know?” Dave asks.

“Unger,” Noah replies briefly.

“Arson, I think,” Dave replies, and he’s been on the job almost as long as Noah, so it makes sense he would know. He hands Noah an evidence bag.

Noah drops the wallet into the bag and seals it to preserve the chain of custody. “I suppose that’s some sort of irony for you,” he mutters.

He stands up and backs away from the corpse, waving to the waiting paramedics with their black bag and gurney.

“Are you good to run the scene?” Noah asks Dave.

Dave nods. “Sure thing, Sheriff. I’ll finish up here.”

Noah follows the paramedics back to the ambulance, and is somehow unsurprised to see Stiles’ Jeep, with Stiles appearing on the verge of a panic attack until his eyes find Noah.

Stiles doesn’t hesitate, just walks right into Noah’s arms, clinging to him tightly.

“Everything is okay,” Noah promises him.

Stiles’ breath hitches. “I just—I saw the lights and the ambulance…”

Noah pulls back, holding Stiles by the shoulders. “You weren’t looking for me, were you?”

Stiles hesitates. “No. Scott—Scott’s been acting really weird today, and then he just kind of ran off, so I was looking for him. It’s not—it’s not Scott, right?”

“A petty criminal judging by the driver’s license I found in his wallet,” Noah assures him. “And the body has been here for a couple of days, so it’s definitely not Scott.”

He rubs an affectionate hand over Stiles’ hair. “Why don’t you go home? Get some sleep. You have school tomorrow. Driving around all night, looking for Scott, isn’t going to help anybody.”

Stiles looks as though he might protest, but then his shoulders slump. “Yeah. I’m not sure I want to see Scott right now anyway.”

Noah knows better than to get involved in any sort of drama. Stiles and Scott are like brothers, and they sometimes fight like brothers, only to make up later.

“I’m sure he’ll make it up to you, whatever it is,” Noah replies. “Go on, get out of here.”

Stiles nods. “Glad you’re safe.”

Noah watches him leave, and then looks down at the bag in his hand, still turning everything over in his head. He feels like he’s trying to recall a word that’s right on the tip of his tongue, as though he just needs one small piece to put the entire puzzle together.

Chapter 2

Stiles is still feeling put out with Scott the next day when he trudges up the front steps of the school, and he glances over to see Scott chaining up his bike.

“Stiles!” Scott calls.

It’s only their long years of friendship that cause Stiles to pause and wait for his friend.

“Hey,” Scott says awkwardly.

Stiles just stares at him. Scott isn’t one for apologies, but Stiles feels he’s owed one in this situation.

“I was kind of out of my mind last night,” Scott finally says, and at least his tone is apologetic, even if the actual word “sorry” doesn’t leave his mouth.

“Yeah, you kind of were,” Stiles agrees, and then turns to head into the school.

Scott grabs his arm. “It wasn’t just you, you know. If Derek hadn’t shown up when he did, I might have hurt Allison and Jackson.”

Stiles can’t help but notice that Scott seems far more worried about the harm he’d almost done to Allison than the actual harm done to Stiles. “I’m glad Derek had good timing,” he finally says.

Lowering his voice, Scott says, “Derek said there might be a cure.”

“What’s the cure?” Stiles asks. Because he’s looked, and Stiles hadn’t even been able to find a rumor of a cure.

“Killing the Alpha that bit you,” Scott whispers. “Derek said he’d help, so I said we’d help him.”

“Thank you so much for volunteering me,” Stiles mutters.

He supposes that means they’ll be spending more time with Derek Hale, who can’t talk to Stiles without constant threats of violence.

“It’ll be fine,” Scott assures him. “We just need your research skills.”

Stiles grimaces. “As long as no one messes up my pretty face.”

“What pretty face?” Scott jokes.

Stiles points at him. “Low blow, dude. Especially after yesterday.”

Scott immediately appears contrite. “Yeah, sorry.” He brightens. “But hey, we have a game coming up, and you’re going to be first line!”

That reminder does lift Stiles’ spirits slightly, even if the only reason he’s first line is the pink eye outbreak. Stiles will take whatever victory he can get these days.

After the events of the day before, school is refreshingly normal. Granted, Jackson spends the day glaring at Scott, and Allison spends the day ignoring him, but there’s no lacrosse practice to give Jackson a shot at Scott.

Stiles goes home as soon as classes are over, figuring that he’ll get his homework done, and then see what other research he can do. He wants to see if he can get any clarity on whether the “cure” Derek told Scott about is real, or if it’s just a means of forcing Scott to cooperate with him.

Lord knows that Scott is desperate for anything that will get rid of his lycanthropy so he can be with Allison without worrying about her dad killing him.

Stiles drops his bag by his desk and puts his password into his computer, only to find his chair spun around so he’s facing a pissed-off-looking Derek.

Then again, Derek always looks pissed off, so that’s nothing new.

“Is the sheriff looking for me?” Derek demands.

Stiles blinks. “What?”

“Scott said last night that I should keep lying low, because he told everyone that I had killed three people,” Derek hisses. “But I haven’t heard anything on the scanner.”

Stiles tries to lean back, but he’s stuck between his chair and Derek’s glower. “Um, there’s a BOLO out for you as a possible witness, but no, there’s no manhunt or anything like that.”

“Why?” Derek grits out.

Stiles tries to fidget, but Derek is holding too tightly to the front of his shirt.

“Why?” Derek presses.

“Because my dad noticed that when I initially backed Scott’s story, I was light on the details, which isn’t like me,” Stiles blurts out. “He called me on it, and I—I couldn’t lie to him. I told him you were there, but had been injured, and I didn’t think you’d done it.”

Derek releases him abruptly. “Seriously? How did Scott not know?”

Stiles shrugs uncomfortably and gets to his feet, not appreciating the way that Derek is looming over him. “Because I didn’t tell him? And because I asked my dad not to say anything? Also, Scott doesn’t have a police scanner, and the only two things he cares about right now are Allison and lacrosse. Oh, and not getting killed because he’s a werewolf.”

Stiles straightens out his t-shirt. “What are you doing here?”

“I figured you’d know if there was a warrant out for my arrest,” Derek admits after a few moments of silence. “Considering who your dad is.”

Derek isn’t wrong, and since he’s here, Stiles can pose the question that’s been rattling around in his head since Scott told him about the so-called cure.

“Fine, now you know,” Stiles says. “And since I’ve done you a solid, maybe you could do me one.”

Derek stares at him incredulously. “Are you kidding me? ‘Doing me a solid’ by not framing me for murder?”

Stiles winces, knowing that Derek has made a good point. “Yeah, okay. That may have been the wrong choice of words.”

They stare at each other, and finally Derek’s face softens ever so slightly. “What do you want?”

“Was what you told Scott true?” Stiles asks. “About the cure?”

Derek grimaces and looks away. “I did tell him that it was a rumor, and I didn’t know if it was true.”

Stiles scrubs his hands over his face. “Okay, well, color me not surprised that Scott took a rumor and decided it was god’s honest truth. Fuuuuck.”

“What does it matter?” Derek asks.

Stiles gives him a look. “It matters because Scott will probably get himself killed trying to accomplish it.”

Derek raises his eyebrows, but he doesn’t try to argue with Stiles’ conclusion. “Regardless, the Alpha has to be stopped.”

“Okay, yes,” Stiles agrees readily, thinking about the body that had just dropped. “Can we set a trap?”

Derek stares at the floor. “I don’t know. I haven’t figured it out yet. I’m going to try to catch his scent tonight and track him down.”

Stiles is at a loss, too. “Look, you do what you need to do. I’m going to need to find a hacker to run down another lead, and I think I know who to get. If you come by tomorrow after school, I might be able to arrange a meeting.”

He will readily admit that he’s insatiably curious and generally nosy, so he may have done background checks on all of his classmates, including their sealed records.

Derek glares at him, and then leaves without so much as a goodbye or a thank you.

“Do all werewolves have terrible manners?” Stiles mutters.

But he makes sure Derek is far enough away not to hear him when he says it.

~~~~~

There are certain things that Noah understands, and one of those things is sports. In Beacon Hills, the most important sport is lacrosse for some damn reason, and Stiles has participated since he was old enough to try out for the JV squad.

Granted, he’s never been good enough to start—too uncoordinated, but Noah is proud of him for trying, and for sticking with it. And in spite of everything that’s going on, he has every intention of going to the game.

But in the back of his head he’s still thinking about claw marks.

The next day, he stops by the house after school—not in uniform, since he’s planning on going to the game, and then he hears two voices coming from Stiles’ room, and the second voice doesn’t belong to Scott.

Normally, Noah tries to give Stiles his privacy. He knocks before he enters Stiles’ room—a decision reinforced by a moment when Stiles was thirteen and Noah hadn’t been thinking. It was embarrassing for the both of them.

And if he goes into Stiles’ room now, he risks another embarrassing moment, but he might also find out what Stiles knows that he doesn’t.

Noah knows how the old house creaks and where it creaks, and he deliberately avoids those spots as he approaches Stiles’ room. Once he reaches the door, he flings it open, not wanting to give his kid time to hide or dissemble, and he sees Derek Hale standing there, looking like a deer in the headlights.

Noah doesn’t have his gun on him, and he wouldn’t have pulled it even if he had, but Stiles instinctively moves in front of Hale.

“Dad! Daddio. Pops.” Stiles trails off. “Yeah.”

“Stiles!” Hale hisses.

“I didn’t tell him you were here!” Stiles snaps.

“Stiles, don’t you have a game to get to?” Noah asks, deciding to ignore the elephant in the room for the moment.

“I still have a little time,” Stiles replies weakly.

Noah gives Stiles a hard look. “Both of you, sit down.”

Hale might have the glower down, but he’s still basically a kid, and he responds to authority, even if he doesn’t want to. He sits, and Stiles sits next to him.

“Good,” Noah says. “Glad we’re all on the same side here. Derek, it’s good to see you in one piece. Stiles said you were injured.”

Derek stares at his hands. “I got better.”

“Glad to hear it,” Noah replies. “Now, since I think you both know more than you probably should, I’d like an explanation as to how someone or something tore the battery out of Stiles’ Jeep and left claw marks in the hood.”

Stiles throws Derek a quick glance, but Derek doesn’t even look up.

“Or I could just assume that Derek is a werewolf,” Noah continues.

He’s not even serious. He thought he’d just throw that out there to dislodge the truth, but Stiles flails backwards and Derek flinches and sends a betrayed look towards his son.

Stiles shakes his head desperately, and Noah says, “Derek, look at me.”

Derek turns angry eyes towards Noah.

“There were scratches on the hood of Stiles’ Jeep that look like claw marks,” Noah says patiently. “There were wolf hairs found on some of the victims, but there are no wolves in California. The latest victim had what looked a lot like claw marks in his pant leg. Now, werewolves weren’t even on my radar, but judging by your reaction, and my son’s, I might have landed on the right one.”

Noah doesn’t believe in werewolves, not really. There’s a possibility that this is simply mass hysteria, but the logical part of his brain keeps going back to wolf hairs and claw marks, and a battery torn out of a Jeep with a crumpled hood.

Stiles’ expression switches between relief and abject terror in seconds, back and forth, so quickly that it makes Noah’s heart hurt.

Derek clenches his hands on his knees, but he glances at Stiles out of the corner of his eye, like he’s waiting for direction.

“Well?” Noah prompts.

There’s silence, and Noah says, “It would be nice if one of you could either confirm or deny it.”

Stiles shudders.

Derek’s mouth tightens, and he gives Noah a desperate, hunted look, like he’s expecting the worst. And then his face changes—his forehead becomes ridged, his sideburns grow, his eyes glow blue, and his teeth lengthen into fangs.

“Decide for yourself,” Derek says around a new mouthful of teeth.

Noah controls his reaction with some effort. He’s seen war and violence and other terrible things. Stiles isn’t looking at Derek any differently, apparently used to seeing the shift. He’s staring at Noah, like he’s worried about his reaction, and Noah quickly puts a few things together.

“What about Scott?” Noah asks calmly.

Derek’s face returns to normal—if that’s indeed normal—and Stiles stares at him incredulously.

“What?” Stiles asks.

“Scott made first line, and he has asthma,” Noah replies. “I’m assuming being a werewolf helps with that.”

Stiles shoots up. “What? How are you so calm? Why are you so calm?”

Noah shrugs. “I’ve been to war, kiddo. Derek, I assume you aren’t the one attacking people.”

Derek’s expression turns miserable. “No, and I don’t know who it is, but he—or she—killed my sister.”

“Werewolves,” Noah mutters, scrubbing his hands over his face as he takes that in, the events of the last few weeks taking on a new dimension. The murder of Laura Hale, the attack on the video store and the deaths of the clerk and the bus driver, the events at the school, and the murder in the woods.

Noah doesn’t even bother asking Derek why he hadn’t said anything up to now. If Derek had said, “I think another werewolf killed my sister,” Noah probably would have called the psych ward.

“You still have a game tonight, Stiles,” Noah finally says.

Stiles squirms. “I know, but I think this is more important. Derek has a lead, and I’m not sure it can wait.”

Noah is even prouder of his kid in that moment. “Come on downstairs. I need a beer.”

Noah grabs the files he brought home, and both boys sit at the dining room table. Stiles is fidgety, and Derek seems both lost and angry.

Not that Noah blames Derek for his anger; losing his family the way he had would destroy just about anyone. They’d pulled eleven bodies out of that house, from the very old to the very young.

He pops the top off his bottle of beer and grabs two Cokes from the fridge, putting them in front of Stiles and Derek. “All right,” Noah says. “What did you find out?”

Derek shifts uneasily but remains silent.

“I can’t do my job if you don’t give me the information I need,” Noah prompts.

When they’re both still silent, Noah focuses on Stiles. “You do realize that leaving me in the dark puts me in a precarious situation. What would have happened if I’d tried to confront a werewolf?”

Stiles blanches. “Nothing good. But that’s why I was handling it!”

“No offense, Stiles, but the bodies keep dropping,” Noah says patiently. “And I’d like to take care of this before we have another one.”

He turns to Derek. “So, let’s have it.”

Derek sighs and reaches into his pocket, pulling out two pieces of paper. One is a list, and the other is a drawing of some sort. Noah scans the list, seeing the red x’s next to every name but the last one: Adrian Harris.

“I went by the school last night and got there just in time to save Adrian Harris from the Alpha,” Derek admits in a low voice. “I didn’t have a chance to confront the Alpha. I was too busy rescuing Harris.”

Stiles mutters, “I wish you wouldn’t have.”

“Stiles,” Noah remonstrates. “Where did the list come from?”

He recognizes every name on the list as belonging to a victim.

“The Alpha gave it to Harris, so he either created it himself or took it off Laura’s body,” Derek replies, still sounding absolutely miserable. “Laura told me she was close to figuring something out right before she died. She said she’d found a man named Harris and this.”

The second piece of paper has a drawing of a pendant with what looks like a wolf on it. “What is this?”

“I don’t know,” Derek admits. “I didn’t get a chance to ask. He clammed up once I got him out of there, said he wasn’t talking to me about it, and he’d already told Laura everything he knew.”

“Rude,” Stiles comments. “After you saved his life?”

Derek shrugs.

“Or were you your usual charming self when you asked?” Stiles asks.

Noah clears his throat. “All right. I imagine a badge will probably get more information out of him than what you could.”

“Can I see the drawing?” Stiles asks.

When Noah passes it to him, Stiles peers at it closely. “Give me a sec.”

He snaps a photo with his phone and starts a text message. “Who are you sending that to?” Derek growls.

“Scott,” Stiles says absently. “It looks vaguely familiar to me, and if I’m right, he’ll know where it’s from.”

They don’t have to wait long for a response. Scott texts back, why do u hv a pic of Allison’s necklace?

Stiles reads that out loud, and Derek frowns. “What does Allison’s necklace have to do with Adrian Harris?”

Noah drums his fingers on the table, thinking through that. He’s going to have to question Allison, too, it seems. “Is she still not talking to Scott?” he asks.

“No, not really,” Stiles says. “Why?”

“We need to know where Allison got the necklace,” Noah points out. “She couldn’t have been involved; she’s too young.”

Stiles picks up his phone and starts tapping out another text. “Scott might know who gave it to her.”

A few seconds later, Scott responds with, idk, her aunt?

Noah frowns, considering that. “All right. Stiles, you’re going to go to the game.”

“What? No,” Stiles protests. “Dad! I have another lead.”

“And what’s that?” Noah asks.

Stiles hesitates. “The night we were at the school, someone texted Allison in order to draw her there. If we can figure out who sent the text…”

Noah’s eyes narrow. “And how were you planning on figuring that out? You don’t have a warrant.”

Stiles shifts uneasily and stares down at the table.

Noah sighs. “Fine. It’s probably better if I don’t know, especially since it’s not going to happen.”

“Dad, a warrant is going to take time,” Stiles argues.

“I think you’ll be surprised by how quickly I can get a warrant when I have upwards of five bodies and the possibility of more,” Noah replies grimly.

Noah leans back in his chair, working through the options. “Okay, I think I have enough time to talk to Harris before your game. If I can get permission from the Argents, I can get access to her phone records without a warrant. I’m assuming she’s going to be at the game, too.”

Stiles clears his throat. “Uh, dad, there might be one small problem with that plan.”

Noah sighs. “And what problem would that be, Stiles?”

“The Argents are werewolf hunters,” Stiles replies, his expression completely serious.

Noah is still waiting for the punchline, though. “Excuse me?”

Stiles shrugs. “I mean, it stands to reason, right? If there are werewolves, there would be werewolf hunters.”

Noah definitely feels like he’s in over his head. “Have they caused any problems?”

“They shot Scott and Derek,” Stiles replies.

“And busted the window of my car,” Derek mutters, looking grumpier than ever.

Noah presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, and decides to treat this like any other case where there are multiple threads to pull.

“Would the Argents expect me to know about werewolves?” Noah finally asks.

Stiles opens his mouth, and Noah holds up a hand. “I’m asking Derek.”

“No,” Derek finally says slowly. “We’re really not supposed to tell anyone. It’s one of the reasons the Alpha is such a problem.”

“Because he’s threatening to reveal the existence of werewolves,” Noah says flatly.

Derek nods. “I wouldn’t have told you except you’d already figured it out.”

“I was actually joking,” Noah admits, “but your reactions pretty much confirmed it.”

Stiles face-palms, and Derek scowls.

“All the Argents know is that I’m the sheriff and trying to track down whoever lured their daughter to the school,” Noah says reasonably. “Which is why they’ll probably cooperate. The fact that Argent is an arms dealer means they have even more reason for me not to look at them too hard.”

Stiles is giving Noah a speculative look. “Using their need to fly under the radar, I like it.”

“There’s a reason I got elected sheriff,” Noah replies dryly. “And that’s why Derek is going to drive you to your game.”

Predictably, Stiles flails and Derek glares. “What about the Argents.”

There’s no question in Derek’s voice, and Noah replies, “It’s a crowd, Derek. As far as anyone knows, we’re looking for you because you’re a witness and Stiles reported that you were injured. We’re going to make a big show of being friendly when I get there. I’m not having vigilantes running around my town shooting people and muddying the waters.”

Stiles clears his throat. “They have a lot of firepower, Dad.”

“And there’s no way they’ll commit a violent act in such a public setting,” Noah points out. “Just promise me that neither of you are going to go off on your own.”

The fact that Derek acquiesces tells Noah that he’s probably out of his depth, and might actually be relieved that someone else is taking charge.

“Is that clear?” Noah prompts.

“It’s clear,” Stiles finally mumbles.

Derek just nods.

“Good,” Noah says. “Stiles, go get ready.”

Stiles glances between him and Derek, and Noah knows that he’s probably figured out that Noah wants to speak with Derek alone.

“Fine,” Stiles says and stomps up the stairs.

Once he’s certain Stiles is out of earshot, Noah says, “There have been rumors around Beacon Hills for years that the Argents might have had something to do with the fire. Any truth to that?”

Derek shifts, and his eyes dart off to the left, a clear indication of guilt. “Laura always thought so. Hunters are supposed to have a code, but it doesn’t mean they always follow it.”

“What’s the code?” Noah asks.

“They aren’t supposed to hunt any werewolves who aren’t hunting humans,” Derek admits, not quite meeting Noah’s gaze. There’s something there—some sort of guilt—but that could just be survivor’s guilt.

Noah has intimate knowledge of that feeling.

“Okay,” Noah says. “Keep an eye on Stiles, and stay in a crowded area. Don’t let anyone catch you by yourself.”

Derek gives him a look that Noah can’t quite read. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

Noah isn’t, but his instincts are telling him that he wants the players corralled in one place. And he doesn’t mean the members of the team—he means the people involved in this mess: werewolves, Argents, and everyone else.

There’s safety in numbers right now.

“If you’re at the game, in a public setting, they won’t be able to touch you,” Noah points out. “And the cops aren’t seriously looking for you.”

Derek finally nods. “Okay. I’ll try it your way.”

He leaves the “for now” unspoken, but Noah still hears it, and he knows that he hasn’t yet gained Hale’s trust.

~~~~~

Derek is still reeling. He’d had it drilled into his head as a kid that you didn’t talk about family business, and that included werewolves. Before the fire, there had always been Hales in law enforcement and the prosecutor’s office. Those had been the people dealing with anything supernatural.

Derek had broken that rule before, only to have it end in tragedy, and now he’s here, trusting the sheriff not to betray him.

It’s stupid. He’s being stupid, but Derek is also used to following his Alpha’s orders—first his mom, and then his sister. Derek recognizes the sheriff’s authority, and it’s with something akin to relief to just—follow instructions for now.

So, Derek is going to take Stiles to the lacrosse game, and he’s going to make sure he stays in public, and he’s going to keep an eye on Stiles and Scott.

It definitely helps that the sheriff has been genuinely decent to him, and hadn’t shot him—for being a werewolf, or being in his teenage son’s bedroom.

Stiles is pouting when he throws his gear in Derek’s back seat, and he slumps in the passenger seat.

Derek finds Stiles an annoying know-it-all, and he knows what happens to breakable, fragile humans that get caught up in these things. He might not like Stiles, but he also doesn’t want to see him dead.

“Is your dad good at his job?” Derek asks.

Stiles looks at him, startled. “What? Yeah, of course. He’s the best.”

“Then why did you want to keep him out of it?” Derek asks.

Stiles takes a deep breath, and Derek can tell that he’s winding himself up. “Okay, first of all, my dad is breakable, and werewolves aren’t. And also, he didn’t know about hunters, and what if they decided to shoot him?”

“You’re breakable,” Derek points out. “Maybe you should stay out of it.”

“Gladly,” Stiles snaps. “Just as soon as Scott is also out of it. If he gets cured, I promise that I will keep my nose out of the supernatural forever.”

That’s…generally what Derek is afraid of. Derek has never had a friend like that; before the fire, he had his family, and that had been enough.

Derek subsides into silence; he really has no idea how to talk to Stiles if he’s not threatening him, and with the sheriff in the know, it seems like a bad idea.

The sheriff could, after all, decide to side with the hunters in all this.

Derek pulls up in front of the school. “You’d better get inside before you’re late.”

“Yeah.” Stiles sighs and reaches for the door handle.

Derek grits his teeth. “Good luck.”

Stiles shoots him a startled look, and then he almost cracks a smile. “Thanks.”

Derek parks in the school’s parking lot, and it’s packed with people. A number are still arriving, and Derek joins the throngs. He hides in plain sight among the scores of people, and he finds a seat as far away from the Argents as he can, sitting above and behind them.

One thing about the sheriff’s plan that Derek can understand is that no one would expect him to show up at a high school lacrosse game. And it is public. He’s uncomfortable around this many people, but the Argents aren’t going to start shooting in front of so many witnesses.

He watches as the players jog out onto the field, and spots Scott and Stiles. Scott, the idiot, immediately starts to crane his neck, clearly searching the stands for someone, at least until Stiles punches him in the arm.

Derek just hunches down, in case the Argents catch what’s going on and start looking around.

They’re about 30 minutes into the game, and Scott is playing well—and maintaining control. Stiles is mostly holding his own, but even to Derek’s inexpert eyes, he can see why Stiles normally warms the bench.

Derek spots the sheriff then, climbing the stairs to the bleachers. He pauses to speak with Chris Argent, and it seems fairly friendly. They shake hands at the end of it, anyway, and the sheriff hands him a business card.

Then, the sheriff’s eyes find Derek in the crowd, and he heads Derek’s way steadily, stopping every so often to exchange greetings with people he knows. When he reaches Derek, he claps him on the shoulder before sitting down next to him.

“You could at least look a little happy to see me,” the sheriff murmurs over the noise of the crowd.

Derek shifts. “The Argents saw.”

“That was the point,” Stillinski replies. “They were supposed to see. Do you recognize the woman sitting next to Chris Argent?”

Derek feels himself go cold, afraid that the sheriff is going to ask just the right question that unlocks Derek’s secret. “Yes.”

The sheriff sends a sharp look his way, but he merely nods. “Was she in Beacon Hills around the time of the fire?”

“Yes.”

He’s too close to the truth, Derek thinks, but Stilinski merely hums under his breath thoughtfully and nods. “We’ll talk after the game.”

Derek would be hard pressed to come up with something he wants to do less, but he thinks the sheriff might have come up with some answers, and Derek wants to know why Laura had been murdered.

Stiles manages to intercept the ball towards the end of the game, and based on his surprised look, he hadn’t expected to be successful. He immediately passes it to Scott, who dodges three defenders to pass to another player, who scores.

The sheriff is on his feet, cheering—everyone is—and Derek stands and claps so as not to be noticed.

Beacon Hills wins, and Stiles and Scott are in the middle of a bunch of happy, sweaty boys.

“Come on,” Stilinski says. “I think it’s best if you’re not alone.”

Derek sees the hard looks the Argents are sending his way, and he can’t help but agree.

~~~~~

Noah doesn’t think much of Adrian Harris, that’s for sure, but the information—that Harris had drunkenly assisted the mastermind behind the fire—helps to clarify matters.

The problem, as Noah sees it, is that a motive had never been obvious in the past. Why would anyone want to burn an entire family alive? The Hales had been a prominent family for generations, and many of them had been dedicated public servants. If one of them had been killed, a motive might have been obvious, but all of them?

Now, though, Noah knows the why of it. If someone thinks all werewolves should die, burning down the Hale house makes sense.

It’s an awful kind of sense, but Noah has been doing this job a long time, and he was Army before he was law enforcement. He understands hatred, even if he doesn’t like it.

Noah keeps Derek close to him, not liking the way the Argents are eye-balling him, especially Kate. She has a cruel smirk on her face that Noah has to ignore right now.

But he fully intends on getting to the bottom of things. If he can prove that Kate Argent was behind the Hale fire, she’ll spend the rest of her life in prison.

The Argents don’t have a reason to be near the locker room, where Noah positions himself to intercept Stiles. Derek has his hands shoved in his pockets, with his shoulders hunched, and Noah resolves to keep an eye on Derek, too.

If the Argents really are out to kill every last Hale, Derek is about the only one left.

Stiles comes out of the locker room, his face ruddy with excitement. “Hey, Dad! Did you see?”

“I saw, kiddo,” Noah replies, pulling him in for a hug. “You did great out there.”

“Thanks,” Stiles replies, glancing over his shoulder.

“Where’s Scott?” Noah asks.

“I don’t know,” Stiles replies. “I thought he was right behind me. He’s a little freaked out about everything.”

Noah frowns. “Do you want to wait for him?”

Stiles glances at Derek, and then shakes his head. “No. The Argents don’t know about Scott yet, but if they see him with Derek, they might figure it out.”

Noah frowns. “All right. Derek, I’m parked right next to you. I need to tell you what I got from Harris, and we’ll see if we can start putting the pieces together.”

Derek nods unhappily, but he does as Noah asks, shadowing Noah’s vehicle back to the house, parking on the street and following them inside.

“Sit down,” Noah says. “Because I think it’s time we get all our cards on the table.”

They sit in the living room, and Stiles is fidgeting, probably expecting to be sent upstairs. Normally, Noah wouldn’t include Stiles in any sort of conversation regarding an active investigation, but he needs his kid to come clean. And Stiles always does better with more information; it’s how he copes.

“Did you get anything out of Harris?” Stiles blurts out.

Noah gives Derek a look, and he says, “He claims that he was at a bar, drinking, and a young woman started talking to him, asking him about chemistry.”

He takes out the list of names that Derek had provided earlier. “Every single name on this list is connected to the Hale fire in some way. The insurance investigator, petty criminals with arson in their backgrounds, and Harris, who apparently told a young woman how to burn down a house and get away with it.”

Derek’s expression is getting stiffer and stiffer.

“You said the Argents were harassing you?” Noah asks.

Derek says stiffly, “I wouldn’t say that.”

Noah frowns. “What would you call it?”

Derek doesn’t respond.

Stiles is nearly vibrating. “Dude, they shot you with a wolfsbane bullet! Or Kate Argent did. If Scott hadn’t found the right bullet in time, I might have had to cut your arm off!”

Derek glares at him. “You didn’t want to do it.”

“You’re goddamn right I didn’t want to cut off a limb!” Stiles nearly shouts.

“Settle down,” Noah orders. “And watch your language. What else?”

“They shot Scott with arrows, too,” Stiles says. “And they didn’t have any evidence that he’d done anything wrong, just that he was a werewolf.”

Noah nods. “Right, so the Argents are willing to shoot people and ask questions later. I’m assuming that both you and Scott healed completely.”

Derek nods. “That’s why they always get away with it.”

“That’s not going to happen this time,” Noah says firmly. “You said that you recognized Kate Argent.”

Derek gives a quick, jerky nod.

“And she was around here right before the fire?” Noah prompts.

Derek’s jaw tightens, and Noah feels a lightbulb go on in his head. Kate had apparently manipulated Harris to get information, and Derek would have been about Stiles’ age at the time of the fire. Kate is a looker, and she’d have been in her early twenties at the time.

“I see,” Noah says, and he leaves it at that for now.

Derek gives him a wary look and doesn’t say anything.

Stiles is frowning, and Noah knows that it’s not going to take long for his son to put things together either.

His phone chimes with a text, and Noah glances at it. “Chris Argent is going to have Allison’s phone records on my desk first thing tomorrow.”

That’s not all Chris Argent says. He also asks if Noah had gotten any additional information out of Derek Hale, but since that’s an incredibly impertinent question under the circumstances, Noah just thanks him.

“Tomorrow?” Stiles squawks. “I could have had that information tonight!”

Noah shoots him a deeply unimpressed look. “Yes, illegally.”

“Dad, you can’t arrest an Alpha werewolf,” Stiles protests. “It’s not like you can build a case here.”

“I’m not building a case against the Alpha,” Noah admits. “No offense, Derek, but right now, I’m regarding him as a rabid dog.”

Derek pauses. “The comparison could be made,” he admits.

Stiles gets it at that point. “You’re building a case against the Argents.”

“One in particular, yes,” Noah replies. “Although if any of the rest of them were involved, I’ll take them down, too.”

Stiles’ shoulders slump. “And that’s why you have to obtain all the evidence legally.”

“Now you understand?” Noah asks.

Stiles nods.

Derek frowns. “But how do you explain their motives?”

“Motive isn’t an element of the crime that I’m required to prove,” Noah responds. “But since no one believes in werewolves, I’m sure the defense will claim she’s delusional and try an insanity plea.”

Stiles snorts. “That would be rich.”

“But that’s why we’re going to need to build an airtight case,” Noah says. “People don’t get this good at committing crimes and hiding the evidence unless they’ve been doing it for a while.”

Noah has no doubt that the Argents have committed a lot of crimes, and he plans on going back through old cold cases after they’re through the current crisis to see if there are other signs.

And once he officially reopens the Hale fire case and enters the information into ViCAP, he might find similar offenses in other jurisdictions.

“You mean that they think they’re above the law,” Stiles says, and he sounds worried.

Noah has already anticipated that reaction, and he says, “I’m going to be careful, son, but you understand why we need to exercise caution? And I do mean we in this situation.”

Stiles grimaces and says, “Yeah, I get it.”

Noah turns to look at Derek expectantly.

“What?” Derek asks defensively.

“You were included in that, Derek,” Noah replies, amused.

Derek stares at the floor intently. “Yeah, I got it.”

“Where are you staying right now?” Noah asks him.

Derek refuses to look up. “At the old house.”

Noah sighs. “That building is condemned. Staying there is dangerous.”

“The Hales still own that land,” Derek says weakly. “I can stay there if I want.”

Noah has no intention of even threatening to arrest Derek for not having a place to stay, but he does say, “You realize that you’re a target, and one that’s very easy to find if you stay there.”

Derek finally glances up. “I don’t exactly have anywhere else to stay, Sheriff.”

Normally, Noah wouldn’t be able to offer Derek a place to stay, but in this case, he can place Derek in protective custody since he’d been shot. With the recent murder in the woods, it wouldn’t take much to justify it.

“Stiles, you saw the gunshot wound, right?” Noah asks.

Stiles bobs his head. “Yeah.”

“There’s no evidence of it left,” Derek says. “I don’t see why that matters.”

“Because of the recent murder, I can place you in protective custody,” Noah says patiently.

Derek shakes his head, but Stiles crows, “Dad! That’s genius.”

Derek’s expression is incredulous. “I don’t get it.”

“Dude, if the Argents come after you while you’re in protective custody, that will just be proof that they’re the ones responsible for the reason you’re in protective custody,” Stiles says. “Very sneaky.”

Noah wouldn’t ever admit it, but it hadn’t just been Claudia that Stiles inherited his deviousness from.

Derek frowns. “Okay, but why?”

“Why what?” Noah asks.

“Why would you help me?” Derek asks, sounding genuinely confused. “Why do any of this?”

Noah gives him a look. “Because you’re a person within my jurisdiction, Derek. I’d do the same for anyone.”

“I’m a werewolf!” Derek protests.

“But that doesn’t mean you’re not a person,” Noah replies. “It’s late, and I have to be up early. I’ll grab some bedding for you. I’ve slept on the couch a few times, so I can attest that it’s comfortable.”

He catches how Stiles is looking at Derek, calculating and considering, like he’s reassessing him.

Noah just hopes Derek survives that, but he grabs sheets, a couple of blankets, and a pillow. He hands them to Derek and says, “Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Thanks, I will,” Derek says quietly.

Noah goes to bed, but not for long. He waits until all sound from Stiles’ room ceases, and then he pads back downstairs, unsurprised to see Derek sitting on the couch, his hands hanging between his legs.

“Do you want a beer?” Noah asks.

Derek glances up, startled. “You know that alcohol doesn’t do anything to werewolves, right?”

“I do now,” Noah admits. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy one.”

Derek shakes his head. “Never got the taste.”

“Fair enough,” Noah says, and it’s late, and he’ll regret the beer tomorrow, but he feels like he needs it for the upcoming discussion.

He grabs his beer and sits down in his regular chair, waiting for Derek to speak. When he doesn’t, Noah says, “You’re obviously struggling with something.”

“You said that you know,” Derek says, hollow-eyed and weary.

Noah leans back in his recliner and gives Derek a long look. “I think I’ve come to a reasonable conclusion, based on what I know about Kate Argent and how she does business.”

Derek just shakes his head. “I don’t see how.”

“You were how old at the time of the fire?” Noah asks.

Derek’s jaw tightens. “Sixteen.”

“Same age as Stiles is now,” Noah comments. “Just how much of an idiot do you think he is?”

That actually causes Derek to smirk. “A big one.”

“Most sixteen year olds are dumbasses, and never more so than when they think they’re acting like adults,” Noah points out. “So, let me paint a hypothetical situation for you, and you can tell me if I’m warm.”

Derek nods.

“A young woman comes into town, and she’s attractive,” Noah begins. “She also has a singular purpose in mind. She knows there’s a family of werewolves living in Beacon Hills, and she’s going to do everything in her power to end them. She finds the local chemistry teacher and plies him with alcohol for his technical skills. She tosses her hair and bats her eyelashes, and he’s flattered, so he tells her how to commit arson and get away with it.”

Derek shifts uncomfortably.

“Then, she targets a kid she suspects is part of that family,” Noah continues. “She starts small, maybe runs into him in the hallway, or at a coffee shop.”

“It was the basketball court,” Derek whispers. “I was alone, and she complimented my jump shot.”

“She ran into you a lot, didn’t she?” Noah asks.

Derek nods.

“You do know that the age of consent in California is eighteen?” Noah prompts. “She was an adult, and she groomed you so that you’d be flattered and want more of her attention. You’d give her a little bit, and then, what? She would go cold on you?”

Derek rubs his eyes. “Is this–is this normal?”

“Predators operate out of the same manual,” Noah confirms. “I’ll bet if you asked members of her family, they’d recognize some of those behaviors, too. They like to manipulate and twist the situation for their own ends.”

“I still broke the rules,” Derek says. “I talked about my family’s secrets.”

“And that’s going to be a regret that you’ll live with for the rest of your life,” Noah admits. “But you weren’t the one who killed your family. That was the work of a mass murderer who didn’t care that some of those people were children.”

“The Argents have a lot to answer for,” Noah adds. “But with your help, we can hold them accountable.”

Derek shakes his head. “I think you might be surprised, Sheriff. Hunters have been getting away with a lot worse over the years.”

“Then maybe it’s time to change that,” Noah says. “But nothing is going to change if we don’t try.”

Derek nods slowly. “I guess we can try.”

Noah has no idea how they’re going to get there, but at least they’re on the right track.

Chapter 3

Stiles can hear his dad get out of bed and head back downstairs, and he suspects that his dad is going to talk to Derek about whatever it is he’s figured out.

He thinks he knows what his dad figured out, and it’s causing Stiles to do some soul-searching.

The thing is, Stiles doesn’t really like Derek, who responds to Stiles with threats of violence, which has caused Stiles to look at Derek as a bully, rather than a potential ally.

But then Stiles thinks about how he’d feel if something happened to his dad, and that’s just one family member. Stiles remembers how he’d felt after his mom died, and then compares that to how Derek must have felt.

And if Stiles has reached the same conclusion as his dad, and they’re both right, then Derek is probably shouldering some of the guilt for his family being wiped out.

So, while Derek’s communication might suck, there’s probably a good reason for it, and he’s going to have to rethink things.

Because if his dad can solve the Hale house fire, and demonstrate what kind of monsters the Argents are, well, maybe they’ll leave Scott alone. Scott and Allison can date, and life can go on.

And maybe a measure of justice could bring Derek peace.

Stiles finally drops off to sleep, and wakes when his alarm blares the next morning. He rolls out of bed and pulls on the nearest clean clothing he has on hand, then stumbles downstairs.

Derek is sitting on the couch, the sheets and blanket neatly folded and resting on the borrowed pillow.

“You want coffee?” Stiles calls, thinking of his epiphany and deciding to extend an olive branch.

Derek glances up at him. “I don’t drink the stuff,” he says gruffly, then pauses. “But thanks.”

“I want you to come in to the station with me so we can get the protective custody paperwork drawn up,” Stiles’ dad says as he comes down the stairs. “And I’ll take that coffee, son.”

“Sure thing, Pops,” Stiles replies.

He fills up a travel mug for his dad and grabs a Coke for himself, figuring that he needs both the sugar and caffeine this morning.

“Be good today,” his dad says.

“I’ll try,” Stiles promises.

Stiles drives Roscoe to the school and parks, chugging the rest of his Coke, and then heads into the school. “Stiles! Stiles, hey!”

Stiles turns as he sees Scott running up to him. “Hey, what’s up? I looked for you after the game last night.”

Scott doesn’t reply right away, but instead grabs Stiles arm and pulls him from the flow of traffic. “I saw the Alpha last night.”

“What?” Stiles hisses. “What do you mean?”

“I mean the Alpha came into the locker room after everyone else left, and he whammied me,” Scott says urgently.

Stiles looks around to make sure they aren’t overheard. “Yeah, well, I have news, too.” He glances at his phone to check the time and swears. “We’re going to be late.”

“Lunch?” Scott says.

Stiles nods. “It’s the best time to get some privacy.”

He fidgets through his first few classes of the day, and Stiles notices that Harris is glaring at him with more ire than ever.

Stiles stifles his groan of dismay, knowing that he can look forward to another full semester of chemistry and dealing with Harris, who may very well decide to take his anger out on Stiles.

Fun times, Stiles thinks.

He makes it through his morning classes, and then grabs a tray from the cafeteria and meets Scott in an abandoned hallway where he’s been eating a lot of lunches since Allison broke up with him.

“Okay, what exactly happened?” Stiles asks.

“I was in the locker room, getting a shower,” Scott begins slowly. “And then the Alpha came in.”

“Did you get a good look at him?” Stiles asks. “Could you tell who it was?”

Scott shakes his head. “It was too dark, and he snuck up behind me and dug his claws into the back of my neck.”

“Let me see,” Stiles demands, and Scott leans forward to give Stiles access to his neck.

“Looks like there are still scratch marks there,” Stiles comments. “Derek said that wounds from Alpha werewolves take longer to heal.”

Scott frowns. “When did Derek say that?”

“Oh, that’s what I needed to tell you,” Stiles says. “Dad put Derek into protective custody because of the Argents.”

Scott immediately looks incensed. “Allison doesn’t have anything to do with this!”

“Did I say she did?” Stiles asks, punching Scott in the shoulder. “It’s her aunt, dude. The one with the wolfsbane bullets.”

Scott looks troubled by that. “Allison said that Kate is basically like her sister.”

“Then we’d both better hope that Allison didn’t inherit her murderous tendencies, because we’re pretty sure she was behind the Hale house fire,” Stiles says.

Scott rubs the back of his neck thoughtfully. “I don’t think it was Kate that actually burned the house. I think the Alpha gave me some of his memories of the fire.”

Stiles immediately pulls out his cell phone. “Hold that thought.”

“What?”

“If the Alpha gave you their memories of the fire, that means they were actually there,” Stiles says. “And that narrows down the list of suspects considerably.”

There’s no immediate response from his dad, and Stiles frowns, but then tells himself that his dad is busy, and probably had phone records to run down.

“Do you want to go to the station with me after school?” Stiles asks anxiously.

Scott frowns. “Are you worried about your dad?”

“I don’t know,” Stiles says, drumming his fingers on his leg. “It’s just—Dad was supposed to get Allison’s phone records this morning so he could track who sent the text that lured her to the school.”

“Okay, but that’s good, right?” Scott asks. “Your dad knows about werewolves now, so he’s not going in unprepared.”

Siles grimaces. “Yeah, I know. Shit. What if he comes across the Alpha?”

“What about Derek?” Scott asks. “Could you ask him to check on your dad?”

Stiles texts Derek, since he’d needed to communicate with Derek before, and then waits for a response.

Still nothing.

“I’m sure they’re just busy,” Scott says, and he’s actually focused on Stiles for the first time since Allison entered the picture. “And I can’t really afford to miss classes, but we could skip so you could check on him?”

There’s a reason that Stiles loves Scott, even if he’s sometimes frustrated with him. “No, man. My dad would kill me, and your mom would kill you. But since we don’t have practice after school…”

“Yeah, of course,” Scott says immediately. “We’ll go down to the station.”

“Thanks,” Stiles says. “I know it’s dumb.”

“It’s not dumb,” Scott replies immediately. “You want to protect your dad just like I want to protect my mom. I know you’d do anything you could to help me.”

“I definitely will,” Stiles promises.

“It’s gonna be fine, Stiles,” Scott says earnestly. “Your dad is smart, and you said he has Derek with him, right? And your dad is helping Derek with the Argents.”

Stiles takes a deep breath. “Yeah.”

He doesn’t know that he trusts Derek, but maybe he’ll be the back up that his dad needs.

~~~~~

Noah does have Allison Argent’s phone records on his desk when he and Derek walk into the station.

“All right there, Sheriff?” Tara calls with a curious look in Derek’s direction.

“Just fine,” Noah insists. “Derek is here to clear up what he saw at the school, and I’m putting him into protective custody. With Laura Hale’s death, there’s reason to think he might be a target, too.”

Tara’s expression goes soft with sympathy, and Noah can tell that’s the moment when Derek goes from “potential suspect” to “victim.” “I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Hale.”

Derek looks uncomfortable. “Thanks,” he bites out.

“Has Argent been by?” Noah asks.

“He has, and the records are on your desk, Sheriff,” Tara replies. “Mr. Argent said he downloaded them himself last night.”

“Hm,” Noah says.

He leads Derek back to his office and sees the printouts sitting on his desk. “Have a seat, Derek. I’m just going to take a quick look at these, and then see where that leads us.”

Derek is frowning. “If it was the Alpha that lured the Argent girl to the school…”

“Then it would stand to reason that the Alpha was behind the fake text message,” Noah agrees. “But that means Chris Argent probably has some idea who the Alpha is now.”

He pages through the documents until he finds the text message Allison received the night the kids had been trapped in the school. Noah frowns when he sees where the text had originated.

“We need to go,” Noah says, tossing the printouts on his desk.

Derek frowns. “What is it?”

“The text came from Beacon Hills Hospital, from Melissa McCall’s account,” Noah replies. “And he may very well think that she’s the Alpha—or that Scott is, but Scott is in school right now.”

Derek follows Noah out and mutters, “My uncle is there, in long-term care. He was burned in the fire. The last time I visited him, he was catatonic.”

Noah glances at him. “You sure about that?”

“Right now, I’m not sure of anything,” Derek admits.

Noah drives to the hospital, and Derek follows him inside as he looks for Melissa. Eventually, when he has a chance to stop and think, he’s going to have to tell her that her kid is a werewolf, but that’s for later.

Noah has been around the hospital enough to check the white board where the staff’s names are written, with the magnet next to them in a box that indicates they’re out, on-duty, or on-call. Melissa is marked out, which means that if Argent wants to find her, he’s probably headed to her home.

Noah frowns, wondering if he needs to be concerned as to whether Argent would confront her now.

“He’ll watch,” Derek offers, seemingly reading Noah’s mind. “The Argents operate in the shadows.”

“Let’s check on your uncle, then,” Noah replies. “If he’s not the Alpha, he might be targeted by the Argents if they know he’s here. Is he listed under his own name?”

There’s a long pause, and Derek looks stricken. “I never even thought about that.”

“You were sixteen when you left town,” Noah points out absently, heading down the hallway. “If anyone should have thought about that, it’s your sister, but she was operating under a burden of her own.”

They reach the room where Peter Hale ought to be, and the room is completely empty, the bed neatly made, a wheelchair sitting in the corner.

“Well, he’s not here,” Noah says, hands on his hips. “Who was his nurse?”

“Jennifer something,” Derek replies slowly. “I think—this means he’s the Alpha.”

Noah has a vague recollection of Peter Hale from before the fire as a bit of a rogue with a wandering eye. Unlike some of the other Hales, Peter hadn’t been interested in public service.

“Do you know where he’d go?” Noah asks.

Derek shakes his head, clearly torn. “He killed Laura. He killed my sister.”

“We don’t know that for sure, but there’s a good chance of it,” Noah admits.

He’s tracked fugitives before, but Noah has no idea where to start with an Alpha werewolf who faked being catatonic to throw his nephew off the scent.

And they have the Argents to consider, too.

Noah goes to the closest nurse’s station and clears his throat, vaguely recognizing the African-American woman behind the desk. “Hi there.” He checks her name tag. “Jonelle.”

“Hi, Sheriff Stilinski,” she replies, dimpling. “What can I do for you?”

“Peter Hale,” Noah begins. “And his nurse? Jennifer? You got any information on either of them? This is Derek, Mr. Hale’s nephew.”

Jonelle glances at Derek with sympathy. “I saw the news about your sister. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Derek is starting to look a little freaked out. “Thanks. I was here recently, visiting my uncle, but he wasn’t responsive.”

Jonelle sighs. “Yes, well, I’m not sure what to tell you, Derek. Jennifer hasn’t shown up for work today, and Mr. Hale has gone missing. We didn’t have any contact information for next of kin, or you would have been notified.”

“Thank you,” Noah says. “Appreciate your help.”

He leads Derek out of the hospital, and then says, “I want to check on Melissa, and then we’ll start tracking down the nurse.”

Derek shakes his head. “We have to find Peter.”

Noah turns to him. “Do you know where he is?”

“I think I might be able to track him,” Derek replies. “I know his scent.”

Noah considers letting Derek go off on his own to track the Alpha, but immediately discards the idea. “Wasn’t he the one that injured you at the school?”

Derek nods reluctantly. “Yeah.”

“So, you find him, and what? How much stronger is an Alpha than you?” Noah asks.

Derek grimaces. “A lot stronger.”

“Then we need to be smart about this,” Noah replies. “Haven’t you ever seen a horror movie? The people who go off on their own are the ones who get killed.”

Derek almost cracks a smile at that. “You’re comparing our situation to a horror movie?”

“Stiles would be so proud of me,” Noah jokes. “Come on.”

He drives to Melissa’s house, parking across the street, and sees her rust bucket sitting out front. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel, deep in thought. If he sees her, and he doesn’t tell her about Scott, she’s going to see it as a breach of trust. Then again, Noah thinks the news will be easier to take if Scott is present and helps explain.

“I think she’s asleep,” Derek offers. “I can hear one heartbeat, and it’s slow.”

Noah glances at him. “You can tell that?”

“Werewolf senses are pretty keen,” Derek admits. “And I’m a born wolf, so I’ve been trained since birth.”

“What else can you tell?” Noah asks.

Derek hesitates. “I think the Argents might have been here. I can smell a hint of wolfsbane.”

Noah twists in his seat. “Do you know the basics of hunting a fugitive?”

Derek gives him an incredulous look. “Why would I?”

Noah shrugs. “Just thought I’d ask. You look at the offender, and then you look at the victims. Why did he bite Scott?”

Derek rubs his eyes. “The strength of the wolf is based on the strength of the pack. Every wolf needs a pack.”

“So, he bit Scott because he’s trying to build a pack,” Noah muses. “He’d want you in his pack?”

Derek shifts. “I don’t know. Maybe. He has to know I’d be conflicted. But I’m not an Alpha. He would only make himself weaker if he killed me.”

Noah sits and thinks. Assuming the Alpha doesn’t try to go after Adrian Harris again, the next targets will be the Argents.

“He’s been trying to get Scott to join him,” Derek adds.

Or Scott.

“All right, we’ll try it your way for right now,” Noah says. “We’ll see if you can track Peter, but we’re sticking together.”

Derek nods unhappily. “Okay.”

They go back to the hospital, since that’s the last place they knew Peter and his nurse had been. There’s some disturbed earth under the window in Peter’s old room, and Derek admits that he’s caught a faint scent, but it goes nowhere after that.

“Peter knows how to hide his scent,” Derek admits.

“Then we’ll track the nurse using my methods,” Noah replies. “Come on.”

Derek seems a little resistant. “I can just—go somewhere else.”

“You could,” Noah says. “I can’t force you to stay with me, or do anything, really. As far as the rest of the world knows, you’re in protective custody, but that doesn’t mean I can force you to do anything.”

Derek grinds the heels of his hands into his eyes, and he gives a full body shudder. “Fuck. I don’t—fuck.”

Noah reaches out to rest a hand on Derek’s shoulder, and he can feel the tremors running through his body. “What do you want to do, Derek?”

“I don’t know,” Derek says. “He’s—technically, he’s my Alpha. He’s my uncle. He was my favorite uncle when I was growing up, and he…”

Noah leaves his hand where it is. “I’m sorry, son.”

The “son” slips out unintentionally, but Derek either doesn’t notice or doesn’t mind. He just curls in on himself even more, and Noah watches the silent emotional storm.

Eventually, though, Derek straightens, dry-eyed. “I need to know everything.”

“Well, that I can help you with,” Noah says. “Or at least we can get started.”

Noah sets the wheels in motion to start digging into Peter’s finances, citing as probable cause the fact that his nurse had stopped showing up to work, and her patient disappeared. It’s at least reasonable to look into it a little more deeply, just in case he’s been kidnapped.

He also puts a BOLO out on her registered vehicle, and starts digging into her background and finances, at least what he can find.

Noah puts Derek to work looking at police reports for around the period of time that Laura had returned to Beacon Hills. Derek still doesn’t know why Laura had been drawn back, and he reports that she’d been adamant about staying away.

Noah is well aware that it’s a terrible idea to involve Derek, but as he’d told Stiles the night before, they’re not building a case against the Alpha. Why Laura returned might give them some insight into the Alpha, but it doesn’t change anything about the Hale fire.

And Noah has no idea what to look for.

His instincts are proven correct an hour or so later when Derek makes a punched-out sound.

“What’s wrong?” Noah asks immediately.

Derek hands him a photograph, and Noah vaguely recalls the report of a potential poacher, with the dead deer and the spiral marked on its side.

“I’m not sure what I’m looking at,” Noah admits.

Derek’s finger stabs at the spiral. “That’s a werewolf symbol for vengeance. I buried half of my sister under a spiral, as is customary.”

It doesn’t take long for Noah to grasp the significance. “The Alpha deliberately baited your sister into coming back.”

“Peter wanted to be the Alpha,” Derek says dully. “He wanted to take her power for himself.”

Noah can’t imagine what Derek is going through. “It looks that way.”

Derek stands up and starts to pace. “I can’t—he can’t be allowed to continue.”

Noah agrees. “What does that mean, though, Derek?”

Derek scrubs his hands over his face. “When my mom—Laura became the Alpha. She knew before I did because she felt the power pass to her. If I kill Peter, I’ll definitely get the spark, but if someone else does it, I don’t know. Mom never really said. I’m—other than Peter—I’m the last living Hale.”

Noah can’t believe he’s having this conversation, but there had been at least one occasion during his tenure as a deputy, and then again as sheriff, where they’d been forced to hunt down a cougar that had started hunting people.

He’s not about to start thinking of all werewolves as animals, but in the case of the Alpha, the comparison can be made.

“What do you want to do?” Noah asks, and he wonders if anyone has ever asked Derek that question, given his surprised expression.

Derek shakes his head. “I don’t know. I told Scott that there was a rumor that he could be cured if he killed the Alpha.”

“Is that true?” Noah asks.

Derek shrugs. “It’s a rumor. I don’t know if it’s true, and I told him that.”

Noah takes in a deep breath and considers that. “Then let me make this suggestion: it doesn’t matter. Whatever happens, happens, because if there’s anything we can all agree on, it’s that the Alpha needs to be stopped.”

Derek’s shoulders slump. “Yeah.”

“But we have to figure out where he’s going to be first,” Noah adds. “If we don’t know that much, we’ve got nothing.”

“He’ll want to get Scott on board,” Derek admits. “And given his recent actions, he’ll probably threaten someone Scott cares about.”

Noah knows there are three people who would fit that bill: Stiles, Melissa, and Allison. Allison has the entire Argent family at her back, but that makes keeping Stiles and Melissa safe a priority.

“Tell me about your uncle and what you remember about him,” Noah invites.

Derek shakes his head. “The uncle I remember wouldn’t have done this.”

“Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t remnants of the man you remember in there,” Noah replies.

Noah has sat across from a lot of family members who have protested that the person they knew, or thought they knew, couldn’t have done such a thing. Noah knows better.

“Um,” Derek says. “He was always more of a friend than an authority figure, you know? He was Mom’s youngest brother.”

As Derek continues, pacing in front of Noah’s desk, Noah listens not just to the words, but the emotion behind them. What Noah is hearing is that Peter had been sly and manipulative.

Peter hadn’t confronted a problem head on, he’d used a dead deer to lure his niece to town and kill her to steal her power. Then, he’d pretended to be catatonic, even in the face of his nephew’s real distress, so he could continue his revenge spree.

At the same time, Peter is willing to put the entire supernatural world at risk in order to exact his revenge.

Once Derek has run out of words, and has slumped in a chair, Noah says, “We’ll track the nurse, but first I’m going to call for lunch for us.”

Derek just stares at him. “I just—I really don’t get how you’re okay with this.”

“I’m probably not,” Noah freely admits. “I’ll probably have a private meltdown later, but I don’t have that luxury right now. Right now, I have a kid and a town to protect, and you’re a part of that town.”

Derek stares at the floor. “Did you know my mom?”

“Yeah, I did,” Noah replies. “I knew both your parents, at least a little. I knew a number of the Hales.”

Derek doesn’t ask anything else, and Noah takes the opportunity to call for sandwiches from the deli down the street. It’s one of the few in town, and as such, the Sheriff’s department frequents it enough that they’re only too willing to deliver, even if they don’t do that for anyone else.

They eat, and Noah works on reviewing the reports that had come in overnight, as well as the requisition orders.

Derek actually naps at one point, and Noah wonders how much sleep he’s been getting, and how much sleep a werewolf needs.

When Derek starts awake about an hour later, he glances at Noah guiltily.

“Don’t worry about it,” Noah says. “I learned in the Army that you sleep when and where you can.”

“What else can I do?” Derek asks, sounding a little desperate, and Noah knows that he needs to keep busy.

Noah is a little surprised that Derek has agreed to stick around, and that he wants to help, that he hasn’t stormed off. He isn’t sure what he can give Derek to do, so he he goes to his filing cabinet, the one where he keeps the cold cases. “Look at those reports and see if anything stands out to you.”

They spend a companionable few hours together, uninterrupted until Tara knocks on the door with Stiles and Scott standing just behind her.

“Look what the cat dragged in, Sheriff,” she says.

Noah raises his eyebrows and glances at the time. It’s just late enough that the boys wouldn’t have needed to skip any classes in order to get here, but they must have left immediately after the last bell.

“All right, thank you, Tara,” Noah says. “I wanted to talk to these two anyway.”

Noah waits until the two boys shuffle inside his office and Tara closes the door.

Derek has vacated the chair across from his desk to loom moodily while leaning against a wall, leaving the two seats open for Stiles and Scott.

“What are you two doing here?” Noah asks.

“You weren’t answering your messages!” Stiles bursts out. “I thought—if you ran into the Alpha—“

Noah picks up his phone, which he has on silent, and he sees five missed texts from Stiles, and one voicemail that he must have sent right as school let out. “I was a little busy, but as you can see, I’m fine. You know I often put my phone on silent when I’m working, Stiles.”

“Yes, in ordinary times,” Stiles protests. “These are far from ordinary times, Dad!”

Noah has to give him that. “Fair enough. I’ll try to be better about it, but I really did want to speak with both of you. Derek and I found out today that the Alpha is Peter Hale.”

Scott glances at Derek. “Who?”

“My uncle,” Derek growls. “I thought he was in a coma.”

“To be fair, he was in a coma,” Noah says mildly. “He just isn’t anymore. But Derek believes that he’s going to try to convince you to help him, Scott.”

Scott scowls. “No! No way! There’s nothing he could do to get me to join him.”

“And if he threatens your mom or Stiles?” Noah asks.

Scott is a little more hesitant. “No, I mean, he’s hurt a lot of people.”

“You’d probably give in if it were Allison,” Stiles mutters.

“No, I wouldn’t,” Scott replies in a similar tone, but he sounds more torn.

Noah suppresses his eye-roll with difficulty. “Allison has some very well-armed people between her and danger. Your mom doesn’t even know what to be on the lookout for, Scott. Which is why we’re going to tell her what’s going on together.”

“What?” Scott says at about the same time as Derek.

Stiles, on the other hand, is eyeing Noah with speculation. His brain is working overtime, if Noah knows his kid. “You just don’t want Mrs. McCall to find out about Scott, and that you found out first and didn’t tell her,” he says.

“That is also a consideration,” Noah admits. “But right now, she doesn’t know to fear the Argents or Peter, and she needs to at least know who not to trust.”

“The more people who know,” Derek begins.

“And I’m going to be cured!” Scott insists. “Derek said that if I kill the Alpha that bit me, I wouldn’t be a werewolf anymore.”

Stiles doesn’t believe that any more than Noah does, it seems, based on the side-eye Stiles is giving Scott.

Scott isn’t always easy to reason with, but Noah has known him a long time, and his kid gets his Scott-wrangling abilities from somewhere.

“Derek, under normal circumstances, if a non-Alpha—“

“Beta,” Derek inserts. “We call them Betas.”

“Okay, under normal circumstances, if a Beta kills an Alpha, what happens?” Noah asks.

“They become the Alpha,” Derek admits.

Scott’s expression is horrified. “I don’t want to be an Alpha!”

Noah just gives Scott a long look, waiting for him to catch up.

Scott shakes his head. “No, that’s not how it would work for me.”

“Derek, how many werewolves do you think have killed the Alpha that bit them?” Stiles asks.

Derek shrugs. “More than a few, anyway.”

“And yet it’s just a ‘rumor,’ and you don’t know if it’s true,” Stiles presses, deploying the air quotes.

Derek nods. “That’s right.”

“Scotty, man, I told you,” Stiles says. “Do you really want to take the risk of becoming an Alpha?”

Scott slumps in his chair. “No.”

“Okay, then,” Stiles says. “Because if that’s the case, we need to figure out a different plan.”

Noah gives Stiles a look. “There is no ‘we’ in this, Stiles.”

“Dad!” Stiles protests, outraged. “If we’re targets, then we’re involved.”

Noah doesn’t want to give an inch, knowing full well that Stiles will take a mile, but Stiles does make a good point. “Then it’s the buddy system from here on out. Scott, when does your mom work tonight?”

Scott frowns. “I don’t think she does. I think she’s home, actually.”

“Then you’re with me,” Noah decides. “We’re going to tell your mom what’s going on. Stiles, Derek, I want you two to stick together.”

Both of them grimace, but neither voice a protest. “I can make dinner,” Stiles offers.

Cooking will be a good distraction, and Noah says, “Great. You do that. I’ll be home as soon as we’re done at Scott’s.”

“What about Jackson?” Scott asks.

Noah frowns. “What about him?”

“He knows I’m a werewolf, and he keeps threatening to tell people if I don’t make him one, too,” Scott explains.

Derek frowns. “Then he’s a threat. If he exposes your identity to the Argents—“

“We can’t exactly threaten David Whittemore’s only son,” Noah says dryly. “He’d file a lawsuit before we got two words out.”

Stiles gives Noah a look. “I might have a suggestion, but we probably shouldn’t tell you about it for plausible deniability.”

“I don’t even want to know that much, Stiles,” Noah replies. “Let’s just take it one thing at a time.”

Noah has a friendly relationship with Melissa and always has, ever since Stiles and Scott became best friends. He’d like to keep it that way, and if Mel is going to be a target, she needs to at least know what to look out for.

Scott slumps in the passenger seat, the very picture of dejection. “She’s going to hate me.”

“She’s not going to hate you,” Noah replies patiently. “She’s probably going to be confused and scared for you, but this is about her safety, Scott. She can’t be on her guard if she doesn’t know what she’s guarding against.”

Scott just shakes his head. “Then she’s going to hate Allison.”

“Do you hate her?” Noah asks.

Scott stares at him incredulously. “No, of course not!”

“Her family hates you,” Noah points out as he drives through quiet residential streets on his way to the McCall house.

“Allison isn’t her family,” Scott says immediately. “She didn’t shoot anyone, or burn a house down.”

“Okay, then if you can separate Allison from her family’s actions, surely your mom could do the same,” Noah replies.

Scott sighs. “But what if Allison hates me?”

“Maybe if you told her the truth, she’d surprise you,” Noah says. “You’ve been lying to her all this time. Telling her the truth might do some good.”

Scott doesn’t reply to that, but Noah hopes that he’ll think about it. Granted, he doesn’t think that dating a girl from a family of people who hate you is a good idea, but the heart wants what it wants.

Noah pulls up in front of the McCall house, and Scott reluctantly gets out, trailing him up the walk.

As they approach the house, Noah waves at Scott to go ahead, since he doesn’t want Melissa to think that Scott is in any sort of trouble.

But Mel must have seen his vehicle, since she pulls the door open as they approach. “Scott? What did you do?”

“Nothing, Mom!” Scott protests, the very picture of hurt innocence.

“He’s not in trouble,” Noah adds. “But there have been some recent developments that I thought you should know about.”

Melissa nods slowly. “All right. Come in. I’m just getting ready for a date, but I have some time before he arrives.”

“A date?” Scott asks. “With who?”

“Just someone I met at the grocery store,” Melissa replies. “He’s very nice, and very charming.”

“Let’s sit down for this,” Noah says.

Scott sits on one end of the couch but fidgets, clearly wanting to be anywhere but here. Noah takes one of the chairs, while Melissa sits on the other end of the couch.

“You’re scaring me a little bit, Noah,” Melissa admits.

Noah glances at Scott and knows that he’s not going to be the first to start. “Do you know about those animal attacks that have been happening?”

Melissa grimaces. “I do. Do you have any idea what’s behind them?”

“The trace evidence says it’s a wolf,” Noah admits.

Melissa’s expression turns confused. “I didn’t know there were wolves in California. Unless someone had a pet…?”

“According to Stiles, there haven’t been wolves in California in decades,” Noah replies. “But that doesn’t change the fact that when they were roaming through the woods a couple of months ago, Scott got bitten.”

Melissa’s eyes widen. “What? Scott! Why didn’t you tell me? If you were bitten, you might have needed the rabies vaccine!”

Scott hunches in on himself. “It was fine, Mom. I’m fine.”

“But you might not have been!” Melissa scolds. “Rabies isn’t curable.”

“I don’t have rabies,” Scott says, sounding a bit impatient now.

Melissa just shakes her head, her mouth tightening. “We’ll discuss this more later. I don’t think that’s why you’re here, though, Noah.”

“Obliquely, it is,” Noah replies. “Because while Scott might not have been infected by rabies, he did get something else. I think you’d better show her, Scott.”

Scott shakes his head, sending Noah a pleading look.

Noah isn’t going to back down, and he can still glare Scott into submission.

Scott’s face shifts, much as Derek’s had, although he has yellow eyes, and Melissa gasps and turns pale. “What—Scott… What happened to you?”

Scott’s face returns to normal. “I’m a werewolf, Mom.”

“That, no—that’s just not possible,” Melissa objects. “There’s another explanation.”

“There isn’t,” Noah says gently. “And I might have tried to break it to you a little more gently, but we’re operating under the gun here. A lot is going on, and you need to be prepared to deal with it, since Scott is at risk just by virtue of what he is.”

Melissa shakes her head vehemently. “No. No, this is impossible. I don’t—I don’t believe it.”

“Mom, it’s true,” Scott says, his voice breaking. “I didn’t want to tell you, because I thought you might hate me.”

That short-circuits her objections and refocuses her attention on Scott. If there’s anything that Noah is certain of in this situation is that Melissa will do anything for her son.

It’s one of the reasons they get along so well.

“Oh, Scott, no,” Melissa says immediately. “There’s nothing you could do that would make me hate you. Nothing.”

She opens her arms, and Scott goes to her, burying his face in her shoulder as she rocks him. “It’s going to be okay,” she says quietly. “We’re going to figure this out.”

Melissa looks at Noah with a certain level of accusation. “How long have you known?”

Noah makes a show of checking his watch. “About 24 hours, give or take. Although I’ve suspected something was going on for a while. Like I said, the wolf attacks didn’t make much sense.”

Melissa runs her fingers through Scott’s hair, and he can see when she braces herself, game face on. She’s a first responder, same as Noah, and he can see when she transitions into looking at this like triage.

“What do I need to know?” Melissa asks.

Noah takes a deep breath and considers where to begin. “It all goes back to the Hale house fire.”

Melissa shakes her head. “That tragedy?”

“It was arson,” Noah replies. “The Hales, at least some of them, were werewolves, and that’s why they were targeted. That puts us—and Scott and Stiles—between two opposing forces. There’s the werewolf who’s seeking revenge, Peter Hale, and the remaining hunters who are still targeting werewolves.”

Noah can also see when Melissa takes that on board. “They’ll target Scott.”

“If they know he’s a werewolf, almost certainly, from what I’ve been able to tell,” Noah admits. “Right now, though, they don’t know.”

Melissa nods. “Who are they?”

“The Argents,” Noah says.

Melissa pulls back from Scott. “You’re dating a werewolf hunter? Really? I know Romeo and Juliet is a classic, but I don’t want to see you recreating it.”

“Allison isn’t a hunter, and I didn’t know any of this when I met her,” Scott says a little sullenly, but he’s still leaning against Melissa. Noah can see the relief in his relaxed posture.

Melissa sighs. “Okay. I still think it’s best that you stay away from her while all this is up in the air.”

“I agree,” Noah adds. “Even if Allison isn’t involved and doesn’t know, you don’t want to give her dad a shot at you.”

Scott looks outraged. “What about at school?”

“At school is fine,” Noah says. “But only when you’re around others. Buddy system, remember?”

Scott nods. “Yeah, okay. They shot me when I was alone in the woods, so I guess that makes sense.”

“Scott!” Melissa squawks. “You were shot?”

“With arrows,” Scott says defensively, as though that’s supposed to make it better. “And I heal really fast.”

“Thank god for that, at least,” Melissa mutters. “What about the werewolf that’s attacking people?”

“We’ve managed to identify him as Peter Hale,” Noah replies. “And he wants Scott to help him on his murder spree, which is why it was imperative that you be warned, because you need to be on guard.”

Melissa frowns. “Peter Hale? He’s in the long-term care ward at the hospital, and he’s catatonic. Has been since the fire.”

“He’s disappeared,” Noah replies. “Along with his nurse. We’re looking for both of them.”

Melissa nods. “I understand.” She takes a deep breath. “Scott, is this why your asthma has been so much better lately?”

Scott nods reluctantly. “Yeah. I didn’t think you noticed.”

“Sometimes kids grow out of asthma,” Melissa replies. “I thought that’s what happened with you.”

Scott shifts uncomfortably. “No.”

Noah wonders if Scott is thinking about the supposed cure proposed by Derek, and what that would mean for his asthma.

Melissa focuses on Noah. “What else can you tell me?”

She’s fully shifted into emergency mode at this point. She wants information so she can determine a course of action. Noah quickly runs down the barebones of what he knows, with Scott squirming silently next to his mom.

Noah knows that Stiles and Scott would have preferred to keep all of this a secret, thinking they could handle it on their own. That’s typical, since most teenagers tend to think they’re more grown than what they really are.

Noah outlines the parties, including the Argents, and the general sequence of events. He doesn’t want to frighten her, but he wants her to be appropriately wary. As far as he’s concerned, the Argents are engaged in a criminal enterprise, and Peter Hale is no better than a rabid dog.

Melissa keeps looking at Scott during Noah’s recitation, her expression shifting between anger and sorrow. “Why wouldn’t you just tell me, Scott?” she asks at one point.

“I didn’t want you to get hurt,” Scott replies, unable to meet her eyes.

“But you do understand that by keeping me in the dark, I was in more danger because I didn’t even know what to look for?” Melissa presses.

Scott shifts. “Yeah, I guess.”

Melissa just sighs, and then glances at the clock. “I should probably call my date and let him know that I won’t be able to make it.”

Noah feels little bad about that, but Melissa is a grown woman, and bad news never has good timing.

Not that this is bad news, necessarily, but it’s certainly surprising.

She pulls out her cell phone, presumably to call her date, but apparently doesn’t get an answer, because she hangs up without saying anything. “He doesn’t have his voicemail set up. I guess I’ll just have to let him know when he gets here.”

“When is he due to arrive?” Noah asks.

“Around seven,” Melissa replies.

Noah stands. “Well, I’ll get out of your hair then. If you or Scott need anything, don’t hesitate to call.”

Melissa smiles. “Thank you, Noah. I appreciate it.”

Noah knows what he’s told the boys about the buddy system, and he’s breaking that rule when he leaves Scott with Melissa, but he needs to go back to the station, and then home.

And it’s not like the Alpha is targeting him.

~~~~~

Derek had liked being at the station, strangely enough. When he’s not being booked as a suspect, the place feels kind of like a pack house. Everyone there belongs in some way; they all serve a purpose.

There’s a sense of belonging that Derek has been missing for a long time.

That might be why he’s so willing to listen when the sheriff insists that he and Stiles stick together.

It makes a certain kind of sense. The Argents aren’t likely to find him at the Stilinski house, and Peter is going to want Derek to help him. Derek is pack, and probably useful against the rest of the Argents.

And if the Alpha wants Scott to help him, Stiles and Melissa McCall are the likeliest targets. Derek doesn’t mind helping out the sheriff by making sure Stiles is safe.

Stiles drives them in his Jeep, saying, “I need to stop by the store on the way.”

Derek shrugs. “Fine with me.”

Stiles mutters to himself as they move through the store, picking up a bagged salad and turkey sausage. “Pasta okay?”

“Sure, that’s fine,” Derek agrees. He’s mostly been eating fast food, and he welcomes the chance to eat something else.

“Why are you being so agreeable all of a sudden?” Stiles demands suspiciously.

Derek glares at him. “I wasn’t.”

“You totally were,” Stiles replies. “My dad tells you that you have to hang out with me, and you just go with it?”

“Your dad makes a lot of sense,” Derek replies defensively. “And he’s been really decent to me.”

“Is that really so surprising?” Stiles asks. “My dad’s a decent guy.”

Derek watches as Stiles dumps a box of pasta in his basket. “Let’s just say I’d have been less surprised if he shot me.”

“He wasn’t going to shoot you unless he thought you were going to kill me or him, you know,” Stiles says. “Besides, my dad isn’t an asshole like some I could name.”

Derek knows he’s referring to the Argents, and he certainly isn’t going to argue. “Not everyone has his restraint.”

Stiles snorts. “Again, assholes.”

He grabs a jar of sauce, and then says, “All right. I’ll have to do an actual trip to the store this weekend, but this will take care of dinner at least.”

Derek frowns as they approach the check-out, because he can see Chris Argent looming in the doorway. “Stiles.”

“I see him,” Stiles mutters, pulling out his cell phone. “Just be cool.”

Derek stiffens as Argent starts approaching them. The smile on his face might appear friendly, but his eyes are cold. Derek has no idea what kind of confrontation the man is planning, especially right in front of the sheriff’s son, but then Stiles says loudly, “Hey, Dad. I had a question about dinner tonight.”

Derek glances at him, and he has his cell phone up to his ear, and he’s staring at Chris Argent very pointedly.

“Yeah, he’s here with me,” Stiles says. “I was thinking pasta for dinner tonight if that works.”

Argent detours towards the produce section as Stiles chatters away to a silent phone. He keeps the phone pressed to his ear as he pays and leads the way back to his Jeep.

“What was that?” Derek hisses as soon as they start driving away.

“That was me faking a phone call with my dad, hoping that Chris Argent wouldn’t start something if he thought I was talking to the sheriff,” Stiles replies.

He doesn’t peel out of the parking lot, but it’s a near thing.

“He’s still a bold son of a bitch,” Stiles mutters. “A grocery store in broad daylight!”

Derek shrugs. “You get used to it.”

Stiles’ eyes narrow. “We’ll see. Dad is definitely going to have something to say about it.”

“You know they probably think you’re a werewolf, right?” Derek asks.

Stiles drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “Maybe, but I don’t care. I care about keeping Scott safe.”

“You should care,” Derek says, exasperated. “You’re the breakable human.”

“I might be, but I’m also a lot more ruthless than Scott is,” Stiles says, his jaw tight.

Derek can tell that he’s angry, but he’s not sure why. Nothing happened, and maybe nothing would have happened, even without the fake call. Derek doesn’t believe that, though. Chris Argent enjoys harassing him, and he probably believes that Derek could lead the hunters to the Alpha.

Stiles pulls up in front of the house and parks, grabbing the groceries and then stomping inside.

Derek decides just to wait him out, to see whether he’s going to talk about it.

Stiles bangs around the kitchen, grabbing a soda and chugging it. He’s got everything cooking when the sheriff walks in.

“Everything okay?” Stilinski asks, apparently sensing Stiles’ mood.

“We saw Chris Argent at the grocery store,” Stiles replies. “He looked right at us, and I’m pretty sure he was planning to confront us in front of god and everybody.”

“Did he say anything to you?” Stilinski grabs a beer from the fridge and glances at Derek. “Do you want one?”

Derek shakes his head. “No, thanks.”

“No, I pretended to call you very loudly, and he headed for the produce section instead,” Stiles says. “But these hunters are really getting on my last nerve, Dad.”

Stilinski takes a healthy swig of his beer. “It sounds like they think they’re above the law.”

“They think they are the law,” Derek inserts quietly. “At least where the supernatural is concerned. And like I said, he probably thinks you’re a werewolf, Stiles.”

Stiles snorts. “Based on what evidence? Is he just going to harass me on the off-chance that I might be a werewolf?”

“They’ve done it before,” Derek murmurs.

Stilinski shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, Stiles. If they break the law, or they start stalking you, I’ll slap them with a restraining order so fast they won’t know what happened.”

Derek isn’t used to using the law against the hunters.

Stiles tosses the foil-wrapped loaf of garlic bread in the oven. “How did things go with Mrs. McCall?”

“She was surprised, and she has a lot of questions, but she took it fairly well, all things considered,” Stilinski replies. “I thought Scott would have talked to you about it already.”

Stiles shrugs. “I just got a text saying that everything was good. He didn’t give me any details.”

Derek watches the exchange with interest and not a little envy. There are times when the grief wells up and threatens to choke him, and this is one of those times.

Stilinski glances at him. “You okay there, Derek?”

Derek manages to nod, but can’t force words past the lump in his throat.

Stiles gives him the same sharp-eyed look, and then he asks, “Do you like onions on your salad?”

“No, not really,” Derek manages to say.

“Then I won’t put any in,” Stiles replies. “And you are going to eat some salad, Dad.”

“I have no problems with salad,” Stillinski replies mildly. “I just object to eating it as a meal.”

“You might object, but your arteries definitely thank me,” Stiles replies.

“My arteries are just fine,” Stilinski replies. “As you would know since you kept bugging me until I showed you my lab results.”

Derek shouldn’t get comfortable; this isn’t his family, his pack. They still have to deal with the Argents and his uncle, but he’s enjoying himself more than he’d like to admit.

They sit down to eat, and Derek finds himself eating two servings, relieved to have a home-cooked meal.

He’s expecting Stiles to tease him for it, but instead, he just looks pleased with himself.

Stiles’ phone chimes with a text as Stilinski leans back in his chair, and Derek chases the last bit of sauce with a piece of garlic bread.

“Cell phones don’t belong at the dinner table, Stiles,” the sheriff says, although he sounds more amused than anything else.

“We’re in a bit of an emergency situation, Dad,” Stiles points out, and glances at his phone.

Stiles’ eyes go wide, and he passes the phone to his dad. Stilinski reads the text and immediately stands up. “I thought Scott said he didn’t get a good look at the Alpha.”

Stiles just shakes his head. “I don’t know, Dad.”

“What’s going on?” Derek asks.

“Scott says the Alpha is at his house right now,” Stillinski says grimly. “I’m going over there.”

“I’ll go with you,” Derek immediately offers. “Regular bullets aren’t going to do much good against him.”

Stilinski just shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. We’ll figure it out when we get there.”

“Dad—“ Stiles begins.

“Stay here,” Stilinski orders. “I mean it, Stiles.”

Stiles subsides, and Derek figures that he probably should have involved the sheriff earlier. “Text me what happens.”

“We’ll be fine,” Stilinski insists.

Derek takes the passenger seat of the sheriff’s Jeep, and it doesn’t feel all that weird. It should, but it doesn’t.

“You ever thought about law enforcement?” he asks, and he drives quickly, but with control.

Derek frowns. “Me?”

“You see anybody else in this vehicle?” the sheriff asks.

Derek shakes his head. “No, I mean… I hadn’t really thought about what I would do. I still have another semester of college.”

“You could finish that here,” he says.

“Are we really talking about this right now?” Derek asks.

“Just think about it,” Stilinski says, and he pulls up outside of a neatly-kept house.

Derek takes a deep breath. “Bullets won’t work on him.”

“You said that already,” Stilinski says. “I’m going in through the front door, but I think it might be for the best if you don’t.”

Derek nods. “I can come in through the upstairs window.”

“Go,” Stillinski says.

Derek moves swiftly, running to the back of the house and leaping onto the roof. He finds an unlocked window easily enough, and climbs through into what’s probably Scott’s room, based on the scents of teenage boy and lacrosse detritus.

He hears the doorbell ring, and creeps down the stairs, knowing full well that Peter will be able to hear and smell him, no matter how careful he is.

Scott and a woman—presumably his mom—are sitting on the couch. Scott is definitely tense, and the woman has apparently sensed that, because she’s also tense.

Derek doesn’t see Peter, which means he’s the one who’s gone to answer the door.

He motions to Scott, directing him out the back.

Scott shakes his head vehemently.

Derek jerks his thumb even more vehemently.

There’s a snarl from the front door, and that seems to galvanize Scott, who pulls his mom from the couch and drags her past Derek toward the back of the house.

Derek runs towards the front of the house and the sheriff. Peter turns towards him, blood on his face, which has been transformed into something awful. Derek is familiar with the beta shift, as well as the full shift, but this is something else.

His teeth fill his mouth, his eyes glow red, and it looks like a horror show to Derek. His uncle isn’t supposed to look like a horror show.

Stilinski is clutching his arm to his chest, and Derek rushes Peter, hitting him in the stomach with his head, carrying him out of the house.

Scott hits Peter from the side as they tumble around in the yard. Peter tries to swipe them both with his claws, and then he runs away.

“Are you okay?” Derek asks Scott, his face shifting back.

Scott shifts back, too. “Yeah, I think so. Why did he run off?”

“We’re united,” Derek replies. “He needs us, and he didn’t have any leverage.” He looks around. “Plus, there are witnesses. He has some sense remaining.”

Scott looks around and sees the few neighbors who have come out of their houses, standing on their front lawns. “The sheriff!”

They both go to Stilinski, but Melissa is already tending to him, inspecting his injured arm. “This looks like a nasty bite,” she says.

Derek swallows hard and shares a look with Scott.

Stilinski looks at him. “Do I need to worry?”

“He’s an Alpha,” Derek says. “If he bit you, you’ll either turn or you’ll die.”

He hates to put it so bluntly, but he knows the sheriff is a direct person and will appreciate the honesty.

“How soon will I know?” he asks.

“Soon,” Derek replies. “Probably within the next two hours.”

“Call Stiles, and tell him to come then,” Stillinski says. “He won’t forgive me if this doesn’t go my way, and I don’t tell him.”

Derek doesn’t like the task, but he nods. “I will.”

He calls Stiles, who answers on the first ring. “Derek?”

“Your dad was bitten,” Derek says without preamble. “He’ll either turn, or he’ll face bite rejection. You should come.”

“I’ll be right there,” Stiles replies and hangs up.

Scott and Melissa have helped the sheriff inside, and Derek follows them in, locking the door behind him, knowing that he’ll have to let Stiles in when he arrives in a few minutes.

Stilinski isn’t showing any of the signs of bite rejection that Paige had, at least not yet.

Melissa gets her first aid kit and cleans the bite wound as best she can. “I would feel a lot better if a doctor had a look at this.”

Derek clears his throat. “Either it will heal quickly or not at all.”

Melissa makes a low, distressed sound. “Is there anything we can do?”

Derek just shakes his head, remembering watching Paige suffer—until he’d put her out of her misery.

Melissa cleans the wound and wraps it with gauze. She’s just finishing up when the pounding on the front door begins. Scott leaps to open it, looking through the peephole before he does.

Stiles comes rushing in, and he kneels next to the couch where the sheriff is sitting. “Dad,” he says helplessly. “You were supposed to be careful.”

“I was careful,” Stillinski says wryly. “I’m pretty sure his first instinct was to go for the throat, and my arm got in the way.”

“What happened?” Stiles asks, looking around.

Melissa sighs. “I had planned to tell my date that I couldn’t go with him when he arrived, since I couldn’t reach him by phone. When he showed up, Scott opened the door.”

“I didn’t recognize him until he was right in front of me,” Scott admits. “I tried to warn Mom to run, but he grabbed me by the back of the neck with his claws, and he told Mom he’d kill me if she didn’t sit down.”

Well, that explains how tense Scott and Melissa had been when Derek had first seen them.

“I managed to text you before he could break my phone,” Scott adds.

“He was threatening us when you arrived, Noah,” Melissa says. “He insisted on opening the door, and said that as long as you were in the way, he’d never be able to get Derek on his side.”

Noah winces. “Well, that would explain why he went straight for the jugular. I had one hand on my weapon, and the other caught his teeth.”

“He ran after Derek and I attacked him,” Scott finishes. “And then we called you, Stiles.”

Stiles only has eyes for his dad. “How soon will we know?”

“I’ve only seen bite rejection once,” Derek admits. “And it didn’t take long. We’ll know for sure by tomorrow, but I think we’re probably safe.”

Stilinski reaches out with his good arm and rubs the top of Stiles’ head. “I feel fine, kiddo. A little pain, maybe, but nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

Stiles slumps. “Dad, that means you’re a werewolf now! The hunters will be after you, Peter is definitely going to be after you, and then you’ll have to deal with the full moon!”

“You’re forgetting something,” Stilinski says with a smile.

Stiles frowns. “What’s that?”

“I have you, Derek, and Scott,” Stilinski replies. “And I have faith that we’re all going to be just fine.”

And Derek realizes that what he’s describing is a lot like pack.

Chapter 4

Stiles has no idea how they’d gotten here. All he’d wanted was to keep his dad safe, and instead, he’d been bitten.

That night, he can’t sleep, and he wanders downstairs, forgetting that Derek is there.

“He’s going to be fine, Stiles.”

The disembodied voice, coming from the living room, startles Stiles so badly that he’s momentarily convinced that he’s going to have a heart attack.

“Shit, dude,” he gasps. “Make a little noise.”

Derek enters the kitchen, and he looks softer without the leather jacket and in his bare feet. “I just did.”

“Ha, ha,” Stiles says flatly. “I was supposed to keep him safe.”

Derek is quiet for a long moment, and then he says, “You do realize that werewolves tend to live longer than humans, right?”

“You mean absent insane hunters,” Stiles grumbles, and then immediately feels awful. “I’m sorry. That was a shitty thing to say.”

“You’re not wrong,” Derek admits.

Stiles sighs. “Besides, this just puts me into a position where you, Dad, and Scott are all werewolves, and I’m just the stupid, helpless, squishy human.”

He knows that he sounds bitter, and that he probably shouldn’t complain. At least he still has his dad; Derek has a crazy uncle and no other family.

Derek snorts. “Do you think that every member of the Hale pack was a werewolf?”

Stiles pauses in his rooting through the cupboard for something to eat, or something to drink—just something to do to take his mind off things. “What?”

“Not everyone in a pack is required to be a werewolf,” Derek says, and his tone is almost patient. “I mean, assuming we get through this in one piece, you and Melissa could be pack if you wanted.”

Stiles blinks. “Oh, I just… I hadn’t realized.”

Derek shrugs, and doesn’t say anything else.

Stiles finally lands on chamomile tea because that’s supposed to be soothing, although it’s never really worked for him before.

He starts the kettle and puts a tea bag in a mug. “Do you want any?”

Derek shakes his head. “No. Thanks.”

The silence is almost companionable, and then Derek says, “You said something about Jackson, and giving your dad plausible deniability.”

Stiles nods. “Yeah, here’s the thing: Jackson isn’t going to stop being a dick to Scott until he gets what he wants. And he can’t get what he wants unless we basically feed him to Peter.”

“Peter wouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot pole,” Derek says grimly. “You can smell the insecurity on him. He wouldn’t see him as a good bet.”

Stiles nods. “Okay, so, that leaves threatening to stop him from calling the hunters down on Scott. You’re scary enough to do it.”

Derek nods slowly. “I could, yes. But Jackson seems to be reckless and stupid with it.”

Stiles’ shoulders slump. “Yeah, I know, but I don’t know what else to do other than kidnapping him until this whole thing is over.”

“And we don’t know how long that’s going to take,” Derek agrees.

“Or, and here’s an option, you let me talk to him.”

Stiles hadn’t heard his dad approaching, so he’s surprised for the second time that evening. “Dad! I thought we discussed plausible deniability.”

“I’m trying to build a case against the Argents, and Jackson Whittemore is complicating that,” his dad says reasonably. “It doesn’t even have to be about werewolves. It can just be that I’m investigating the Hale house fire, and the Argents were involved.”

“What about his dad?” Stiles asks, knowing that Jackson’s dad is an attorney.

“He was a witness to the attack on the clerk at the video store,” his dad replies easily, coming over to lean against the counter next to Stiles. “I can ask him some additional questions in that capacity. Do you think Jackson is going to tell his parents that he wants to be a werewolf?”

Stiles snorts. “No.”

“So, we use half-truths and the law to get where we need to go,” his dad says. “I would think that you’d know all about that.”

“Rude,” Stiles mutters, but he has to admit that his dad has a point. Stiles has been running from catastrophe to catastrophe ever since the night he dragged Scott out to look for Laura Hale’s body. He hasn’t had the time to stop, think, and plan.

That clearly needs to change.

“True,” his dad counters. “What are you two doing up?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Stiles admits.

Derek shrugs. “I heard Stiles come downstairs. I don’t need that much sleep.”

His dad pulls Stiles into a side hug. “You don’t need to worry. I feel fine, and look.”

He holds out his arm, the one that had been bitten, and there are obvious signs of healing. It doesn’t look nearly as bad as it had even a few hours ago.

“How else are you feeling?” Stiles asks. “Scott was pretty weirded out by everything he could sense.”

“Sharpened senses could come in handy,” his dad muses. “Might take a bit of an adjustment, but I haven’t noticed anything yet.”

Derek clears his throat. “My mom didn’t really train anyone but Laura to be the next Alpha, but there was something she told me once. She said that younger recipients are less likely to reject the bite, but that older ones often had an easier adjustment to being a wolf.”

“Bit of a catch-22,” his dad says. “But if that turns out to be the case, I’ll be grateful.”

“I think Derek should stay with you,” Stiles says. “Just in case.”

His dad nods affably. “I would be fine with that, as long as Derek is.”

Derek nods eagerly, and Stiles remembers what he’d said earlier about pack. He wonders how badly Derek must want that sense of security that having a family—a pack—would provide.

Stiles has some idea of how Derek probably feels, given that he’d been doing what he could to protect his dad at all costs.

“All right, I think it’s time for all of us to go back to bed,” his dad says. “Tomorrow is another day, and it’s late.”

Stiles hugs his dad tightly, wanting the reassurance, and not caring that it’s in front of Derek.

Besides, from what Stiles is figuring out, Derek would probably be more envious than judge him.

~~~~~

Noah isn’t one to cry over spilled milk. He believes that responding to Scott’s panicked text about Peter Hale’s presence had been the right thing to do. Peter clearly has no compunction about killing anyone he perceives as being in his way. Maybe Melissa would have survived the encounter, but maybe not.

Getting bitten, turning into a werewolf—well, that hadn’t been part of the plan, but it is what it is. Noah just has to deal with it.

When he wakes up the morning after, Noah realizes that he feels good—really good. He has more energy than he typically does, the pain in his knees is less, his back doesn’t twinge, and when he picks up his phone to see if he has any messages, he doesn’t need to reach for his readers.

“Huh,” Noah murmurs. “Well, that’s handy.”

He grabs a quick shower, and then pulls on a clean uniform, pausing to make sure Stiles is up on his way downstairs.

Stiles is blearily shoving things into his backpack, but he seems a little more alert when he sees that Noah is up and around.

“How is it?” Stiles asks anxiously.

“Almost completely healed, and I feel great,” Noah admits.

He can see Stiles’ shoulders sag in relief. “No urges to kill, no weird noises, nothing like that?”

Noah pauses to really think about it. “Nope.”

“We just passed the full moon,” Stiles muses. “When Scott was bitten, the full moon was just around the corner.”

“I have a few weeks to figure things out, then,” Noah says easily.

Stiles sits down on his bed. “I really thought you’d be more freaked out.”

Noah sits down next to him. “Would that make you feel better?”

“Maybe,” Stiles allows. “A little bit. I mean, I’m feeling pretty freaked out.”

Noah wraps an arm around his shoulders. “I’m probably going to freak out, but I think only one of us is allowed at a time.”

Stiles laughs, the sound a little watery. “Okay, it’s a deal. When it’s your turn, I’ll be cool as a cucumber.”

With a final squeeze, Noah releases him. “Be careful today, okay?”

Stiles nods. “Sure, if you will be, too.”

“Promise,” Noah replies.

Derek is waiting downstairs for them, and he also gives Noah a sharp look, but seems to find whatever he’s looking for. “You seem relaxed,” he comments.

“Maybe because I actually know what’s going on, and we’re going to make a plan to stop it,” Noah replies.

Stiles grimaces. “I probably should have told you what was going on sooner, huh?”

“You think?” Noah replies, deadpan.

Stiles looks almost dejected. “I really thought I was doing the right thing, Dad.”

“I know you did,” Noah replies, relenting. “That was never in question. Now, get going before you’re late.”

Noah has a couple of goals for the day; he needs to locate Peter Hale’s nurse, since Noah is convinced that Peter would need to use her resources. He also needs to have a word with Jackson Whittemore, which is going to take a delicate touch.

Derek accompanies him to the station again, and Noah is glad of that. If Peter is willing to go after him in order to get to Derek, Noah isn’t about to let Derek out of his sight.

Besides, they still have the hunters to deal with, and Kate Argent has demonstrated just how little she cares about collateral damage.

“Have you thought any more about my question?” Noah asks.

“I was a murder suspect,” Derek says after a few seconds of silence. “How is that going to play out?”

“You were cleared,” Noah points out. “Very quickly, in fact. As far as everyone else is concerned, your sister was killed by a wolf, and you were only ever sought as a potentially injured witness for the thing at the high school.”

Derek rubs his palms on the legs of his jeans. “It’s more tempting than I want to admit.”

“How so?”

“The station almost feels like a pack house,” Derek admits. “Everyone there belongs in some way, and they all have a purpose. I haven’t felt that since I was sixteen.”

“I know a lot of Hales were involved in public service in some way,” Noah says.

“It was considered important to be involved in the community,” Derek admits. “The Hales have been in Beacon Hills for a long time, and Mom always said it was important to give back. The idea was that if we were involved, we’d never have to worry about the hunters.”

“That held true for a long time,” Noah says. “It’s not a bad strategy.”

“If the Argents find out you were turned, they’ll find a way to attack you,” Derek says slowly. “They won’t be able to risk leaving a werewolf as the sheriff. It’s probably bad enough that you’re in the know.”

Noah glances at him. “I have the law on my side, Derek, and I have no problem getting creative with charges I can make stick. Arms dealers like Chris Argent aren’t always as careful about permits as they ought to be.”

“I doubt he cares about that,” Derek mutters.

“But Argent is human,” Noah reminds him. “And that means he’s subject to the law. If he violates it, he loses his license, and he may go to prison. The same is true for his sister and the rest of his family.”

Derek just shakes his head, and Noah knows that it’s up to him to make Derek believe that the law can apply to hunters successfully.

“Back again today, Mr. Hale?” Tara calls cheerfully.

Derek just shrugs silently, and Noah says, “I’m trying to recruit him, Tara.”

She smiles at that. “Well, it would be nice to have a Hale in the Sheriff’s Department again. It’s been too long.”

Derek seems to blush a bit at that, and he follows Noah into his office.

Noah powers on his machine and checks the status of the warrants out for the nurse’s financials and car. The car hasn’t been spotted yet, but he has access to her bank account activity.

“Hm,” Noah murmurs. “There’s one charge at a gas station two days ago, but no other activity. Do you think your uncle would hole up at his nurse’s place?”

“Maybe,” Derek replies. “I doubt he’d go back to the Hale house, and after six years, his old boltholes are probably gone, unless there’s one I don’t know about.”

“Nothing we can do about that,” Noah says philosophically. “We may just need to go by her place and knock on the door.”

“I could probably tell you if he’s hiding out there,” Derek says.

“You’ll have to show me how you do that,” Noah says. “Right now, though, I’m going to call David Whittemore as a courtesy, so he doesn’t get upset when I talk to Jackson.”

Noah calls Whittemore’s office, and he is immediately transferred. “What can I do for you, Sheriff?” Whittemore asks immediately.

“I just wanted to give you a heads up on something,” Noah says genially. “We’ve had some new information come to light regarding the attack at the video store. I know your son was one of the victims, and I’d like to reinterview him, if that’s okay with you.”

Whittemore’s voice is cautious. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“I just had a couple more questions about what he saw that night,” Noah says soothingly. “I don’t have any intention of upsetting him. I’m hoping he can help me.”

“I suppose that would be all right,” Whittemore finally allows. “I can arrange to be there with him.”

“I’d rather keep this informal,” Noah replies. “I thought I might just drop by the school and have a quick word.”

Noah knows that he should be able to find an empty classroom, or other quiet location to have the conversation. He also knows that doing it this way, rather than asking Jackson to come to the station, will ease any concerns Whittemore might have.

“That would be okay, but I am going to need to be present if you want to talk to him at the station,” Whittemore insists.

Noah has no intention of letting it get that far. “Of course. I would never ask Jackson to come here without you.”

Noah wouldn’t have been elected if he didn’t have some political acumen, and he knows just how connected the Whittemores are. He’s not going to upset them unnecessarily.

Derek is staring at him when Noah hangs up. “I thought we were going to threaten Jackson.”

“We are,” Noah replies with amusement. “But is Jackson going to tell his parents that we threatened him at the school because he wants to be a werewolf?”

Derek seems to think about that. “No, of course not.”

“So, I tell David Whittemore that I’m going to have a friendly conversation with his son about something he witnessed. That means Jackson is going to have a hard time claiming I put the squeeze on him without admitting that he wants to be bitten by a werewolf.” Noah shrugs. “The point is to make it look like you’re doing something normal as a cover for what you’re really doing.”

Derek scrubs his hands over his face. “I think I know where Stiles gets it from.”

Noah just smiles. “Do you think I got elected because of my pretty face?”

“I had no idea,” Derek mutters.

“Come on,” Noah says in lieu of a reply. “Let’s go check on the nurse’s place, see if there’s any activity.”

The nurse’s apartment is a bust. The house is quiet and dark, and it’s clear that no one has been home for a while. Noah doesn’t like the nurse’s chances for survival at this rate, but the only thing they can do is to keep an eye on her financial activities, and keep looking for her car.

Meanwhile, Noah has to figure out how to deal with his new senses. As the day has gone on, he’s noticed that his hearing and eyesight is getting more acute, as is his sense of smell. It’s a little bit of a distraction from his work, but he hasn’t noticed any mood swings.

“How are you feeling?” Derek asks as they eat lunch in Noah’s office.

Noah hesitates. “The senses are a little bit distracting, but beyond that, I don’t really feel all that different.”

“It’ll probably be different right before and during the full moon,” Derek replies, echoing what Stiles had said. “You’ll feel it more then; we always do. It’s probably a stroke of luck that you were turned when you were.”

“I have time to get a handle on it,” Noah says. “At least I have that going for me.”

“Scott was angry about getting the bite,” Derek says. “And he was bitten against his will, too.”

Noah raises his eyebrows. “From my perspective, I got bitten by accident, and it was better than getting my throat torn out. I was there because it was my job to be there, to protect Scott and Melissa. There’s no sense in railing against something I can’t change.”

Derek shakes his head. “I guess my mom was right about offering an adult the bite.”

“Derek, teenagers are already idiotic hormone bombs,” Noah says with good humor. “I should know, since I live with one. Giving them this kind of power seems not unlike handing a gun to a toddler.”

“Still, the bite can be a good thing, especially for people like Scott with his asthma,” Derek argues. “Whatever happens, whoever ends up being the Alpha, they’re going to be compelled to build a pack. The strength of the wolf is in the strength of the pack.”

Noah frowns. “What do you mean ‘whoever?’”

“Peter has to be stopped,” Derek says simply. “And the person with the opportunity to do so shouldn’t hesitate.”

Noah realizes that Derek means between the two of them, and he’s not including Scott, which is probably for the best. Scott doesn’t want that kind of responsibility, and likely couldn’t handle it right at now.

Noah actually thinks that Scott would make an excellent Alpha someday, but not before he’s ready.

But that means that Noah may be faced with the decision to kill someone else, and it doesn’t bother him as much as it should.

Then again, Noah has been to war, and he’s killed before, and there doesn’t seem to be any other choice to preserve life.

~~~~~

Stiles slides into his seat in chemistry just before the bell rings and is treated to a death glare from Harris. He really has no idea what he’s done to the man, but it’s starting to become uncomfortable.

“Hey, are we on for working on our labs after school today?” Danny asks, leaning across the aisle.

“Yeah, sure,” Stiles replies. “We can probably get that knocked out in an hour or so.”

Stiles wants to throw his whole attention on the issue of Peter Hale and the Argents, but he also doesn’t plan on sacrificing his grades. His dad would definitely be unamused, and would likely ban him from any future participation.

“All right, sounds good,” Danny replies.

Stiles knows that something has crawled up Harris’ butt and died when he raises his hand to answer a question, and Harris snaps, “I doubt anyone wants to hear from you, Mr. Stilinski.”

There are snickers from some of the other students in the class, but at least Danny, who’s sitting next to him, shoots him a sympathetic look.

Stiles is pretty sure that Harris is mostly pissed off about the sheriff’s investigation. Granted, the Hale fire took place six years ago, but there’s no statute of limitations on murder, or to being an accessory to the same.

If he’s found culpable, Stiles figure that Harris will lose his teaching license at the very least.

Of course, being a dick to the sheriff’s kid is an interesting personal choice that Stiles thinks is stupid.

Not that he can say that out loud.

Class ends, and Stiles escapes as quickly as possible, still feeling stung over Harris’ comment.

“Stiles! Hey, Stiles, wait up!”

Stiles turns to see Allison approaching him, which surprises him. He’s interacted with her in the past, of course, but only in conjunction with Scott.

“Hi,” Stiles says warily, wondering if Allison wants him to pass some message to Scott.

“Hi,” Allison repeats, and then smiles and laughs a little, her dimples flashing. “I just—I wanted to ask you for a favor.”

Now Stiles is even more wary. “That would depend entirely on what it is.”

Allison glances down at the floor, then back up at him. “Do you have a date to the Winter Formal?”

Stiles can feel his eyes widen, but he knows that Allison isn’t asking him; she’s never shown the slightest bit of interest. “No,” he says slowly. “I don’t. I wasn’t even sure I was going. I mean, maybe if me and Scott were going stag together, but he’s not allowed to go, so…”

“The thing is,” Allison begins. “The thing is that Jackson asked me to go with him,” she blurts out. “Just as friends, nothing serious, but I don’t want Lydia to feel like a third wheel.”

Stiles isn’t quite sure that he’s following. “I’m not sure where the favor comes in.”

“You could be her date,” Allison says, all in a rush. “I know you really like her, and it would just be as friends, too, but would you think about it?”

Stiles finds it really hard to say no to that, even though it feels as though it’s too good to be true. “Yeah, sure,” Stiles agrees. “I’ll think about it.”

“Come dress shopping with us tomorrow after school?” Allison suggests. “I’ll work on Lydia, but I know she’s going to agree.”

Stiles isn’t sure that he has agreed, but he doubts that there are many people who can say no to her. “Yeah, just let me know the details.”

He keeps going down the hallway, and then gets yanked around a corner by Scott on their way to their next class, which they share. “Dude,” Scott says, “what did Allison say? Did she say anything about me?”

Stiles can’t lie to his best friend, but he also knows that the truth isn’t going to go over well. “No, she wanted me to do her a favor.” He starts them moving in the right direction, towards class.

“What favor?” Scott asks, sounding bewildered, not that Stiles can blame him exactly.

Stiles hesitates. “She wanted to know if I was going to the Winter Formal because Lydia doesn’t have a date, and she thought I could escort her.”

Scott frowns. “Who’s Allison going with? Did she say?”

Stiles really doesn’t want to say, but Scott is going to find out one way or another. Even if Scott doesn’t go—because he’s not allowed—Allison going with Jackson is going to be all over the school the following day.

And Stiles will be the asshole who lied to his best friend.

“She said she’s going with Jackson, but just as friends,” Stiles says all in a rush as they take their seats in the back of the room.

Scott leans back against the lockers. “Seriously?”

“That’s what she said,” Stiles says, putting up his hands defensively. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”

“Are you going?” Scott demands.

They have to hold their conversation between gaps in the lecture, but Stiles knows Scott well enough to know that class is not going to stop him.

Stiles shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m not sure Lydia’s even agreed to go with me, and you know she never gives me the time of day. She’ll probably say no.”

That seems to bump Scott out of his one-track focus. “She’d be an idiot not to go with you, dude,” he says. “You’re way better than Jackson.”

“Thanks,” Stiles replies, and he’s a little touched. Granted, Jackson is a douche, but Stiles knows that he’s an asshole.

“What are you doing after school today?” Scott asks. “We could get some lacrosse practice in.”

Stiles shakes his head. “I’m meeting up with Danny for lab work. I’m not giving Harris a chance to give me a bad grade when he’s already looking for ways to be a dick.”

“Did something happen?” Scott asks.

Stiles doesn’t want to rehash it. “You know Harris.”

Scott nods slowly. “Yeah, I do. How is your dad?”

“He’s weirdly fine, but that might be because we have a few weeks until the next full moon,” Stiles admits in a whisper. “How has Jackson been?”

“I think he got a little freaked out by the idea of hunters, so he’s been slightly less of a dick,” Scott whispers. “But maybe he’s going after Allison to get to me in a different way.”

“Entirely possible,” Stiles agrees, then catches the look from their teacher who is probably one more whisper away from giving them detention, and that’s the end of the conversation, at least for now.

Once class is over, Scott says, “Maybe we could study together some time? I have to bring my grades up or my mom is going to kill me.”

“Well, not today,” Stiles replies, “but sure. Of course. Whatever I can do to help.”

Scott gives him a relieved look. “Thanks. I just can’t seem to focus anymore.”

Stiles knows that Scott would claim that has to do with becoming a werewolf, and Stiles believes that plays a role. But he thinks it probably has a lot more to do with Allison, not that he can say as much.

He figures that Scott will have to figure that out for himself.

Stiles somehow gets through the day, occasionally getting distracted from his worry, and sometimes feeling it overwhelm him. He texts his dad to let him know that he’s going to be staying after school for an hour, and his dad replies, “Derek will be your escort home.”

Stiles raises his eyebrows, but he supposes that his dad is taking the threats from the hunters and the Alpha very seriously.

He likes working with Danny, who’s smart and easy-going, and even if he is put off by Stiles at times, he doesn’t let on to it the way some would.

As they’re packing up, Danny says, “Look, Stiles, what Harris said was not on, and it wasn’t cool.”

Stiles manages a smile. “Thanks, Danny.”

“You did pretty good at the game, too,” Danny adds.

Stiles’ smile turns more genuine. “Yeah? I appreciate that.”

They walk out of the library together, and Danny sends a curious look in Derek’s direction, who’s leaning against the wall across the way.

“Everything okay?” Danny asks.

“Huh?” Stiles says, and then realizing that he’s worried about Derek. “Oh, yeah, that’s Derek. He’s a friend of the family. My dad’s pretty freaked out by everything that’s going on, so he’s taking extra precautions.”

Danny grimaces. “One of the perks of being the sheriff’s son, huh?”

“If you want to put it that way,” Stiles jokes.

Stiles waits until they’re out of the school, and Stiles asks, “How is Dad?”

“He’s fine,” Derek says, and his expression seems a little lighter. “Actually, he’s doing really well. I won’t tell you not to worry, but I don’t think you need to.”

Stiles ducks his head. “Okay. I’m going to try to take that on board, but no promises. How did the other thing go?”

Derek hitches a shoulder. “Your dad can be incredibly convincing.”

Stiles laughs. “Yeah, well, he’s got the affable act to get him elected or re-elected, but he’s got that whole other side of him, too.”

“I can see that now,” Derek replies. “He’s going to make a really good wolf.”

Stiles feels a little wistful. He doesn’t really want to be a werewolf, but he wants to be in the same place his dad is in, and it sucks that they’d started to reconnect just when his dad is changing.

Right now, it feels like Stiles’ entire life is changing, that everyone around him is, and he’s still just the fragile, flailing human that he’s always been.

That he probably always will be.

~~~~~

Derek is really thinking about the sheriff’s suggestion. He could finish his degree, then go to the academy. He’d pulled up the information, and it’s completely doable. Derek isn’t sure how he feels about the idea of carrying a gun, but what if? What if the next time the hunters shoot at him, he has the legal authority to shoot back?

What defense would they have? That he’s a werewolf?

Plus, he’s starting to view the Stilinskis as pack. He wants to view Scott that way, too, even though he’s terrible at expressing it.

Derek has never been particularly good at expressing himself verbally, and maybe that partly comes from growing up in a pack where everyone reads your chemosignals, and maybe it’s just Derek. Laura would have an opinion, but she’s not around to give it.

“Stiles is going to stay after school to study with a classmate,” Stilinski says before they head over to talk to Jackson. “I’d like you to stick around and make sure he gets home safely.”

Derek nods readily enough, but he asks, “Is there a specific reason?”

Stilinski sighs. “The hunters have seen me with you, and Peter knows he’s my son. Scott is at least a werewolf, and therefore slightly less breakable. Stiles doesn’t even have that.”

Derek knows that the sheriff is right. Stiles could have been a target for anyone wanting to get back at him, but add Peter and the Argents on the top of it, and he has a target painted on his back. Still—

“You don’t think the Argents would go after the sheriff’s son, would they?” Derek asks. “He’s human.”

“Chris Argent might not,” Stilinski says grimly. “But Kate?”

The fact that Stiles is human won’t matter much to her, it’s true, and she might make some assumptions just based on the company Stiles keeps. “I’ll make sure to keep as close an eye on him as I can,” Derek says.

“I don’t think they’ll come after him while he’s at school,” Stilinksi adds. “But keeping an eye on him is a job and a half, so just do your best.”

They walk into the front of the school right before the last bell of the day, and the sheriff goes into the office, smiling at the receptionist. “Hi, Carol. Sorry to bother you, but I have some follow up questions for Jackson Whittemore about the attack at the video store. Do you know where I might intercept him?”

Carol hesitates. “Maybe I should call Mr. Whittemore?”

“I already spoke to him this morning, and let him know I’d be swinging by,” Stilinksi says affably. “But you can call him to double check if that would make you feel more comfortable.”

Carol smiles. “No, I trust you, Sheriff.” She checks her computer. “He’ll just be getting out of history,” and provides him with directions.

She doesn’t really pay any attention to Derek, which surprises him, but he just follows the sheriff and tries to look like he belongs.

The last bell rings just as they approach, and when Jackson spots them, his eyes get wide and scared. “Hello, Jackson,” Stilinski says genially. “I had a couple of questions about that night at the video store.”

Jackson shifts uncomfortably as the other students move around him with plenty of side-eye. “I should probably call my dad.”

“I already spoke with him this morning, and let him know I’d be by,” Stilinski replies. “Come on. You’re not in trouble, but let’s find a more private space to speak.”

The sheriff’s hand on Jackson’s shoulder is friendly, but it also doesn’t allow a lot of room for refusal.

They find an empty classroom, since the school is swiftly emptying out, and Derek closes the door behind them, leaning against it to cut off any escape route.

Jackson gulps audibly. “You said I wasn’t in any trouble.”

“You aren’t,” the sheriff says, his tone grave. “Not yet, anyway. I hear you’ve been threatening to reveal Scott’s status as a werewolf to the Argents.”

Jackson stares at him, looking wildly around. “What? No. There’s no such thing as werewolves,” he tries to scoff.

Stilinski glances at Derek. “I don’t think I can quite pull it off yet.”

Derek changes his face, and Jackson stumbles back, tripping over a chair.

Jackson stares at the sheriff, an expression of longing on his face. “How did you get it? Why can’t I be one of you?”

“Because I nearly had my throat torn out by the Alpha werewolf, only he got my arm instead,” Stilinski replies seriously. “And since we’re still looking for him, there’s not much I can do to force him to give you the bite.”

Jackson looks away, and Derek can read the bitter disappointment on his face. Maybe Peter should have bitten Jackson; at least he would have treated the bite as a gift.

“But I need you to understand something,” Stilinski says. “What you’re doing could get Scott killed. They might try to kill you, thinking that you were already bitten. It might be for the best not to draw attention to yourself.”

“I just want to belong,” Jackson mutters. “It’s not like McCall deserves it.”

Stilinski gives him a look. “What happened to Scott and me was an accident, for good or bad. It’s not about what we did or didn’t deserve. But if you’re not careful, you might find yourself on the wrong end of an accident.”

Jackson nods tightly. “Fine. I get it.”

“Good,” Stilinski says. “Don’t let me hear about you risking others’ lives again.”

Jackson slinks out of the room, and Derek steps aside for him.

“Stiles is probably in the library, if you know where that is,” Stilinski says.

“What about you?” Derek asks.

Stilinski shrugs. “I’m going straight back to the station, and I’ll probably stay there until dinner. I’ll be fine.”

Even if Derek had a reason to argue, he knows that Stilinski would choose to protect Stiles before himself. “Be careful. You haven’t fully transitioned yet, so you’ll be more vulnerable.”

“I will,” Stilinski says. “Thanks for looking after my kid.”

Derek has no problem finding Stiles, although he waits for him outside the library. He’s glad that there’s at least one person who seems concerned about his presence, and wants to ensure that Stiles is okay.

He can smell Stiles’ worry and sadness over his dad, and Derek wishes there was something he could do.

“Your dad wants you to be especially careful,” Derek says.

“I know,” Stiles says. “I don’t plan on putting myself in danger. The most peril I want to face is going dress shopping with Lydia Martin after school tomorrow.”

Derek raises his eyebrows. “That doesn’t sound dangerous.”

“It’s dangerous to my heart,” Stiles says dramatically. “I’ve loved her since I was, like eight. She’s the perfect woman.”

He starts to wax poetic, and Derek is uncomfortably reminded of Paige. He remembers how innocent and uncomplicated his feelings for her had been.

Derek feels the old anger rise up, and then Stiles just stops cold. “Why do you look like you want to murder me right now? I swear, Lydia isn’t a hunter, and I don’t plan on being completely stupid over her.”

“You just remind me of someone,” Derek growls.

“A person you want to murder?” Stiles asks.

Derek thinks about the stupid kid he’d been and admits, “Yes.”

Stiles falls silent. “Right. I’ll shut up now.”

Derek glances over at his crestfallen expression, and he sighs, “Your dad wants me to think about becoming a deputy.”

Stiles seems to think about that. “You could watch his back. I mean, you’d probably get a reputation as his favorite, but with werewolves and stuff, you’d have knowledge that most of them wouldn’t. That might be a really good idea.”

“You don’t think I’d be terrible at it?” Derek asks, and is surprised that he actually cares about Stiles’ answer.

“The murder brows could only help,” Stiles teases. “You could probably just glare suspects into submission.”

Derek raises said murder brows. “They work so well on you.”

Stiles grins. “I’m the sheriff’s son, remember? I’m immune.”

There’s something so irrepressible about Stiles that makes Derek both unreasonably angry and fond, all at the same time.

“Don’t jinx yourself,” Derek orders for lack of anything better to say. “Because you’re definitely not immune from a lot of things.”

Stiles just shrugs that off when they climb into his Jeep, and Derek hopes that Stiles doesn’t have to figure that out the hard way.

~~~~~

By the end of the day after he’s bitten, Noah can say that he’s really beginning to feel the effects. He’s honestly not sure that he appreciates being able to hear every conversation going on in the station while he’s in his office. It feels a bit voyeuristic, and he finds himself zeroing in on conversations where he’s mentioned.

There’s a saying about eavesdropping, but so far, no one has said anything too negative. Noah hears some good-natured complaining, and some speculation about why Noah had taken such an interest in Derek Hale, but nothing that is overly concerning.

Most people remember the Hales and the Hale fire, and at least a couple of people comment that it would be nice to have Hales back in Beacon Hills.

Noah has to drag his attention back to his reports, and he gets a text from Stiles, letting him know that he’s cooking.

Noah confirms that he’ll be there in bit, and he finishes up his county requisition forms.

“Will you be back again tonight, sir?” Dave calls.

Noah shakes his head. “No, not unless someone needs me. Might spend some time with my kid for a change, maybe go over some reports.”

He has a plan to build a case against the Argents, and he’ll need to get a formal statement from Derek soon.

Even so, Noah knows that an old crime is a cold crime, and cold ones are the hardest to solve, let alone prove.

Stiles has made a stir fry that night with brown rice, which isn’t Noah’s favorite, but he puts up with it. He’s developed a philosophy that if he isn’t cooking, he doesn’t get an opinion about what gets made unless Stiles is trying a new recipe that Noah would prefer not to eat again.

The stir fry is good, if not exciting, and Noah sets up at the dining room table to go back over what he knows, trying to come up with a way to trap the Argents.

The fire has obvious victims, unlike shooting Derek or Scott, who don’t even have the scars to show for it.

Stiles also sits at the table, ostensibly to do his homework, but also because he’s interested in the investigation and wants to keep an eye on Noah.

“Are you sure everything is okay, Dad?” Stiles asks anxiously as Noah lifts his head for the sixth time.

“I keep hearing things,” Noah admits. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

Derek focuses on him, glancing up from his perusal of the file on the former insurance investigator. “You need to learn how to filter that out.”

“How?” Noah asks bluntly.

Derek grimaces. “I’m not sure. I was born, not bitten. I learned how to do it at a young age.”

Stiles drums his fingers against the table. “How do you sleep at night, Dad?”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Noah replies.

“Well, you’ve probably figured out what sounds are normal, and what would wake you up because it’s out of place,” Stiles says. “I’m sure Derek did the same thing, but he learned earlier because he grew up with his senses. Maybe you should try focusing on each individual sound and categorizing it as normal or not normal.”

Derek makes a sound that Noah can’t quantify. At Noah’s inquisitive look, Derek says, “That’s what my mom always said.”

“See?” Stiles crows. “I have good ideas!”

“I know you do,” Noah says, wanting to keep the peace. “How do you suggest I go about that?”

Stiles hesitates, then says, “Close your eyes, try to identify each sound that you hear, and then categorize it.”

Noah looks at Derek, who shrugs. “That’s pretty much what Mom said, too.”

There’s a part of him that thinks the idea is stupid, but Noah closes his eyes and focuses on his hearing. With his eyes closed, it’s easier to focus on each individual sound, and then categorize it. That sighing sound is the wind through the leaves, the creaking is from the house settling and the branches moving.

Then Noah zeroes in on Stiles’ heartbeat, just a touch too fast with excitement, and Derek’s slow and steady one.

Sound gives way to scent, and he can distinguish between Stiles’ teenage hormones, his excitement, his worry. He can also smell Derek’s grief, and it’s almost overwhelming.

“Why can I sense emotions through scent?” Noah asks, his eyes popping open.

Stiles’ eyes go wide. “You can?”

He’s probably thinking about all the ways he won’t get away with things now.

“I think I can,” Noah replies and focuses on Derek.

Derek hesitates. “My mom said once that if someone has born wolves in their past, they often take to the bite like they were a born wolf.”

Noah shakes his head. “I couldn’t tell you anything about that. My dad never talked about his family, and I don’t have any siblings.”

“And it’s not like we know how to test for werewolf DNA,” Stiles comments.

“Not that it matters,” Noah replies. “But I’m not going crazy?”

Derek shakes his head. “Most born wolves grow up knowing how to read chemosignals. There isn’t a lot of privacy in a pack.”

Noah wonders how a young Derek had gotten away with a relationship with Kate Argent without his family finding out, but as a hunter, Kate had probably taken precautions. As a teenager, Derek had probably taken his own.

“So Dad is going to be able to tell what I’m feeling?” Stiles demands.

“No, but he’ll probably have a better idea than he did before,” Derek replies, his expression lightening with amusement.

Stiles sighs, and it sounds like it comes from his toes. “Great.”

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Noah asks, figuring he can get the truth out of his son.

“Lacrosse practice, and then I’m going shopping with Allison and Lydia for the Winter Formal,” Stiles replies.

Noah doesn’t quite like the sound of that. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Even if Allison doesn’t know about her family’s extracurricular activities, they might still try to use her.”

“She’s going to the dance with Jackson, and she’s conscripted me as Lydia’s date,” Stiles says wryly. “I think it will be fine.”

Noah raises his eyebrows. “And I’m sure you fought against that tooth and nail.”

Stiles shrugs. “Jury’s still out on whether she’ll even agree to go with me. Allison seems to think she will, but who knows?”

Noah assumes that they’ll be going to the local mall, and he resolves to have a word with Derek later. He’s not going to stand in the way of Stiles having a normal life, but he figures that Derek can probably shadow Stiles without him being any the wiser.

“All right,” Noah agrees. “It’s fine if you go, and you can go to the dance, but I want you to be careful and to call me if anything goes wrong.”

Stiles nods readily. “Definitely, Pops. I have no plans on either being used as bait, or as an Alpha’s chew toy.”

Later, Noah will think, Famous last words.

~~~~~

Derek isn’t surprised when the sheriff pulls him aside the following day and says, “I’d like you to go to the mall. Don’t approach, don’t make your presence obvious, just keep a sharp eye out.”

He agrees, and then says, “I’ve been thinking about your suggestion, and I want to do it.”

Stilinski nods. “Well, I would suggest that you finish your degree first. That’s going to make you more marketable long term if you decide not to stick around.”

Derek stares at him. “I don’t plan on leaving Beacon Hills. I’m the last Hale. I can’t leave.”

“You can,” Stilinski says. “But that’s your choice, and you’ll have to make your own call.”

Derek hasn’t been given a choice in so long, just pushed along by circumstances and events, that he can’t even conceive of having options. “I’ll give it some thought.”

“You do that,” Stilinski says, amused. “Why don’t you work on getting transferred today? I have reports to go over, and unless there’s an emergency, no plans on leaving the station.”

Derek takes that as the order it’s clearly meant to be, and he uses a computer no one is using in order to investigate how to transfer his credits and finish his degree.

There’s a community college, but he can’t finish his BA there. The nearest college is 90 minutes away, but there are a lot of online courses, and Derek is pretty sure he could finish most of his classes that way.

Derek sends an email to the admissions department, explaining his circumstances with the important parts left out. He had recently relocated due to his sister’s murder, and he wants to stay close to the investigation, and his family’s land.

Derek doesn’t like fishing for pity, but under the circumstances, he doesn’t mind using every weapon in his arsenal.

He also puts in a request for his transcript to his old college, and hopes that most—if not all—of his classes transfer.

It takes a good part of the day, and by the time Derek has everything taken care of that he can, he needs to go to the mall to watch over Stiles.

Except, when Derek gets there, Stiles is nowhere to be seen. He sees plenty of other people, including a number of high school students shopping for the Winter Formal, but not Stiles.

Derek calls Scott.

“What?” Scott says, sounding distracted.

“Do you know where Stiles is?” Derek growls.

Scott sounds decidedly put out when he replies. “No. He said he was going to the mall to shop for the Winter Formal after school. Allison wants him to go with Lydia.”

“Have you seen either of them?”

“I’m working, Derek,” Scott protests. “I don’t have time for this.”

Derek takes a deep breath. “The sheriff asked me to watch over Stiles while he was at the mall. He’s not here. Do you know how to find him?”

“I don’t know,” Scott finally says, and Derek hopes that the gravity of the situation is starting to sink in. “But the sheriff might be able to track him.”

“How?” Derek demands.

“Stiles’ cell phone has GPS,” Scott says. “Where are you?”

“I’m at the mall,” Derek replies. “But I’m heading to the station now.”

“I’ll meet you there,” Scott says. “Dr. Deaton will let me leave early. I’m pretty much finished here anyway.”

“Fine,” Derek growls, and heads out and drives back to the station. He beats Scott there, but that’s no surprise, since Derek is driving, and Scott is on two wheels.

Stilinski is speaking with one of his deputies when Derek stalks in, and the timing, as well as the expression on Derek’s face, most likely gives the problem away.

“My office,” Stilinski orders.

Derek heads inside and blurts out, “He wasn’t at the mall. I called Scott, and he isn’t aware of any changes to the plan. He’s heading here, too.”

Stilinski pinches the bridge of his nose. “Chances of tracking him by scent?”

“I can try,” Derek replies. “But if he got in a car with someone, then his scent would end when he got in.”

Scott bursts into the office. “Sorry, Sheriff. Tara said I could come right in.”

“Do you know anything?” he asks.

Scott shakes his head. “Just what Stiles told me. He was meeting Allison after school, and they were going to meet Lydia at the mall. Have you tried tracking his phone?”

“That’s my next step,” Stilinski says, sitting down behind his desk and beginning to poke at his keyboard.

Derek really hadn’t considered how tech-savvy the sheriff is, but he accesses the cell phone data easily enough. He figures that the sheriff is probably adept at this sort of thing based on his work, and his expression grows grim.

“Stiles’ phone isn’t far from the school,” the sheriff says. “We need to retrieve it, and I would like you boys to go with me, to see if you can catch Stiles’ scent. I know it’s a long shot, but it’s a chance we can’t miss.”

Derek drives Scott in his car, following behind the sheriff’s vehicle to the last known location of Stiles’ phone. They find it on the ground, two blocks away from the school, and when the sheriff drives to the school’s parking lot, Stiles’ Jeep is easy to spot.

“Fuck,” Stilinski growls, and for the first time, Derek fears his loss of control. His eyes flash, and Derek rests a hand on his shoulder.

“What do you need?” he asks.

Stilinski shakes his head.

Derek takes a deep breath. “I know that Stiles is your anchor. I think that’s why you’ve been so stable, but he can’t be that right now, so you need to find an alternative.”

“What is it for you?” Stilinski asks.

“Anger,” Derek says simply.

The sheriff’s shoulders relax. “I’m very sorry for that, son. All right. I can maintain.”

“Do you have your anchor?” Derek asks.

Stilinski nods, but he doesn’t reply. “I’ll be fine. Do what you can to find my son, please.”

“Come on,” Derek says to Scott, figuring he can impart a few lessons while they’re looking.

“Why would anyone want to kidnap Stiles?” Scott asks, obviously bewildered.

Derek rolls his eyes hard enough to sprain something. “Peter knows that the sheriff is probably a werewolf, and the hunters have seen Stiles with me. There are plenty of people who might think that Stiles is either a werewolf, or excellent bait.”

Scott makes a face. “Shit. That’s not good.”

“You don’t say,” Derek replies. “You know what Stiles smells like, you’ve spent enough time with him. Focus on finding that scent.”

Even if Scott or Derek had been a bloodhound, it wouldn’t have mattered. They trace Stiles’ scent back to the school, and there are faint traces around the area where they’ve found his phone, although whether that’s because his scent is on his phone, or because someone had rolled down the window to throw the phone out, it’s impossible to say.

Derek uses the opportunity to run Scott through the same exercise that the sheriff had used the night before, and he can see burgeoning respect in Scott’s eyes as the lesson takes hold.

He can admit that it’s probably easier to listen to someone who isn’t yelling, and Derek is trying to channel the sheriff.

In the end, though, they aren’t able to find Stiles, and they have to head back to the station to tell the sheriff.

“I’m going to lo-jack that kid,” the sheriff growls, and there’s the hint of fang.

“Sheriff,” Scott hisses.

Stilinski closes his eyes. “Stiles was meeting Allison and Lydia, right? Let’s figure out where they are, see if they know anything.”

Scott grimaces. “Allison isn’t really talking to me. I don’t know if she’ll answer.”

“I don’t need her to answer you,” Stilinski replies. “I just need her number so she can talk to me.”

Derek clears his throat. “Sheriff, you’re building a case.”

“Right now, I’m calling one of my son’s friends to find out if she’s seen him this afternoon,” Stilinski replies. “I’d go over there, but that would be far less friendly.”

Scott displays Allison’s number, and the sheriff uses one of the station’s phones to call.

Derek realizes that the caller I.D. will probably say Beacon Hills County or something similar.

“Allison, this is Sheriff Stilinski,” he says after a few seconds. “I need you to call me back. Stiles is missing.”

He hangs up, and then he looks at Derek. “What do you think will happen if I just go over to her house?”

“Nothing good,” Derek replies. “Especially if Argent finds out you’re a werewolf, and your control isn’t great right now.”

“Sheriff,” Tara calls. “Don’t you still have Allison’s cell phone data?”

Stilinski frowns. “I don’t have a warrant.”

“I think this qualifies as exigent circumstances,” Tara replies. “You know that she was likely the last one to see him.”

Stilinski nods resolutely. “You know what, you’re right. Let’s do it.”

Derek watches as Tara pings Allison’s phone number, and uses that information to see what cell phone tower she’s closest to.

Stilinski leans over her shoulder, and sees the location. “Why would she be out in the Preserve?”

“We could try talking to Lydia,” Scott offers. “She might know.”

“I’ll call the Martins,” Stilinski says. “See if she’s home.”

But Derek is beginning to have a sinking feeling that he might have some idea of what’s going on.

~~~~~

Stiles had initially planned on driving himself to the mall, but then Allison waves him down in the parking lot. “Why don’t I drive us, Stiles?” she suggests. “Lydia is meeting us there.”

Stiles shrugs. “Yeah, I guess that would be okay, but I’ll need to be back here in time to drive home for dinner. Dad is feeling a little paranoid with everything that’s been going on.”

Allison flashes her dimples. “Sure, of course. That’s not a problem.”

Stiles drops his backpack on the floor of the passenger seat, and then slides in. “Are you sure Lydia is really going to agree to this plan?”

“Positive,” Allison says cheerfully, but there’s a note in her voice that suggests she’s not as certain as she seems.

Allison takes a right out of the school parking lot, and Stiles frowns. “This isn’t the way to the mall. If we’re going to the mall, we should have turned left.”

“Smart kid,” comes a voice from the backseat, and then Stiles feels a sharp, burning pain in the back of his neck. He’s never been tasered before, but he knows what it is, and then the world goes dark.

When Stiles begins to come around, he shivers. He keeps his eyes closed, not wanting to give away the fact that he’s conscious.

“Oh, you can’t hide from me, little boy,” comes that same, sly voice. “You see, Allison, even the young ones have an animal cunning. But all you really need to do is apply a little electricity to reveal the true face.”

Stiles screams as the electricity rushes through him, unable to hold it in. The pain is too much to bear, and his brain whites out.

“What are you doing?” Allison asks. “He’s not—his face isn’t changing. You said he was one of them.”

Stiles blinks his eyes open, his vision blurry. He can feel the handcuffs around his wrists, the wire frame of the bed on his bare back. They had apparently removed his shirt, and he can feel something like electrodes taped to his side.

“Allison, what are you doing?” he croaks out.

“Shut up,” the woman snaps, slapping Stiles across the face.

“Allison, you have to get my dad,” Stiles says. “I swear, I’ll say she forced you, but—“

This time, the woman punches him, and then slaps a piece of duct tape over his mouth before he can recover enough to say something else.

“Is he human, Kate?” Allison demands. “Because if he’s human—“

“Who the hell cares if he’s human?” Kate demands. “He’s with them, we know that. He can be human bait if he’s not a werewolf.”

Allison shakes her head, putting her hand over her mouth. “No. That wasn’t part of the deal. You said he was a werewolf!”

“Well, he’s not,” Kate says. “Now, quit whining about it. We have one chance at getting this right.”

“I’ll tell my dad,” Allison threatens.

Kate gets right in her face. “And what do you think is going to happen if you do? Do you think he’s not on board with using humans as bait, or that he’d hesitate to rough up a kid in order to trap a rogue Alpha?”

Allison is staring at Stiles, her hand still over her mouth, but Stiles can see the effect Kate’s words are having. She’s being swayed.

Stiles shakes his head, and Kate says, “He was there at the school that night, Allison. He knew about werewolves, and he let you be terrorized. He did nothing to stop it. He didn’t tell you the truth. He deserves to pay for that.”

Allison’s hand drops away from her mouth, and she nods resolutely. “You’re right. They’re going to be looking for him.”

“They aren’t going to find him here,” Kate says with certainty. “We took him by car, and this whole place smells of smoke and ash. They won’t be able to track him by scent, and we left his phone outside the school.”

Kate puts an arm around Allison’s shoulders. “Come on. We need to get your story straight, because the sheriff is definitely going to want to talk to you at some point.”

Stiles lets out a yell, muffled by the tape over his mouth, realizing that they’re just going to leave him there, chained up.

He tugs at the handcuffs weakly, wishing he’d had some kind of warning. He could have—

Nothing. He could have done nothing, when they’d taken him by surprise, and left him with no way to reach his pockets even if he’d been able to hide a lock pick or a paperclip. Stiles knows how to pick a lock, but that’s when he’s in his own room, warm and comfortable, not chained up to an old bed frame, every muscle on fire from being electrocuted.

It’s cold in the drafty basement, too, and Stiles is human, so he’s going to feel it. His fingers and toes are beginning to feel it, to go a bit numb, and Stiles can see his breath in the air.

Hypothermia is a real possibility, but Kate isn’t going to care if he has cold injuries from this. She probably doesn’t care if he dies.

Apparently, Allison doesn’t care either. Stiles had thought they were friends—or at least friendly—and he can’t quite believe that she’d leave him hanging like this.

One side of Stiles’ face is starting to swell, and he thinks that his bottom lip is split under the tape. The pain from the electrocution caused him to break into a sweat, but now it’s starting to dry, cooling him off even more quickly.

He doesn’t know where he is, and he has no way to get free, and there’s no way that Kate is going to let him live. She has psychopath written all over her, and they never leave witnesses.

Stiles tries to pull himself up by one wrist so he can maybe remove the tape. He could try calling for help that way, but he’s too weak.

Even though it doesn’t help, Stiles throws his head back against the wire frame, letting out a frustrated, muffled scream.

If he gets out of this, Stiles promises himself that he’s going to make his dad sign him up for self-defense lessons, or something. He’s not going to be this helpless ever again.

He’s just not.

Stiles stares at the cuff on his right wrist, wishing he had a paperclip. He’s picked this sort of lock before, just for fun, because he thought it would be cool to say that he could do it.

He hears a faint sound, almost like something metal scratching against the internal mechanisms, and he focuses. He’s probably hallucinating. Stiles had looked up what getting electrocuted did to the human body one time, and it’s nothing good.

It could have damaged his heart, and done a real number on other organs.

Stiles pushes that thought out of his mind and refocuses on the right cuff, imagining what a lock pick would do, imagining that the tumblers are moving, imagining it opening.

To his very great surprise, the cuff clicks open, and his wrist drops free.

Stiles lets out a sob and quickly rips the tape from his mouth. He doesn’t know what happened, or how that happened, but now he needs to do it again because he’s still chained to a bed frame.

He takes a deep breath and then another. Stiles thinks about his dad, and about what his dad would do if Stiles gets killed.

Stiles has a duty to make it home, just like his dad has the duty to come home to him.

He’s so tired, though, and Stiles lets out another shaky breath. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuuuuck.”

Stiles breathes and focuses on the second manacle, doing the same thing as the first. He can imagine the lock pick moving the tumblers, and he hears a click. He stares at it, bringing every bit of his focus, and then that one opens.

Stiles drops to the floor, curling in on himself. He’s so tired, and so sore, but there’s no way he can stay here. If he does, he risks the psycho-bitch coming back and—

He forces himself to his hands and knees. Stiles can’t make it to his feet, but he’ll crawl out if he has to.

Stiles looks around for his phone, or a phone, but doesn’t see one. He can’t find his shirt or any other clothing either, and so he drags himself over to and then up the stairs. He pauses to listen every few seconds for returning psychopaths.

He sees a couple of guards at the front door, but they’re looking out, not inside the house, and Stiles sees his chance. He creeps along towards a broken-out window.

Stiles doesn’t have much protection against the glass, but better a few cuts and to be alive than dead. He can survive a few cuts.

He manages to get out through the window, cutting his left arm and feeling a furrow of glass cut through the skin over his ribs on the right side. The ground outside the window is hard and covered in debris, and he knows that his hands are probably going to get cut up, too, but that doesn’t matter.

Stiles just has to find a safe, quiet spot to hole up, where hopefully his dad can find him, or that he can get some rest until he can limp out of the Preserve.

He crawls, too weak to do anything else, forcing himself to keep moving until he finds a hollow tree.

Stiles climbs inside, covers himself with leaves as best he can, and then closes his eyes, figuring that if he can rest a bit, he might be able to walk out.

~~~~~

Noah has never felt so close to being out of control before. Someone has taken his kid, and he has no idea where to find him.

He speaks to Mrs. Martin, who informs him that Lydia had returned home after school, but that they were eating dinner shortly, and the sheriff could come talk to her after, say around seven.

Noah bites back a growl of frustration, but manages to say as pleasantly as he can, “I would very much appreciate that. I just would like to find my son.”

“I’m sure he’s off with friends, Sheriff,” Mrs. Martin says lightly. “You know how teenagers are.”

“I do know,” he says tightly. “And thank you. It’s just to set my mind at ease, you know.”

It takes an extraordinary act of willpower for him to not crush the phone’s receiver in his hand, and instead to put it down gently and retreat into his office. He also closes the door gently behind him, and then he sits down on his couch and digs the heels of his hands into his eyes.

He senses the door opening, but he doesn’t look, and he’s not surprised when he feels someone sitting next to him, and a shoulder touches his own.

“I didn’t ask before, how you were going to stay in control,” Derek says softly.

“I thought of the station as my family,” Noah admits softly. “I thought of you and Scott, and the people who would still need me even if—if Stiles…”

He can’t look up, he doesn’t look up, just clutches his head in his hands and shudders through his feelings.

“Stiles is a smart little shit,” Derek says wryly. “I’m not saying don’t worry, but I am saying not to be surprised when he inevitably surprises you.”

Noah manages a laugh. “I don’t know what I would do without him. I can’t do without him.”

“You could,” Derek says. “I would know. But that doesn’t mean you’ll have to, or that you should.”

Noah finally looks up, and he knows that his face feels different, so he probably appears different, too. “I have to go speak with Lydia Martin, and I can’t do it looking like this.”

“No, you can’t,” Derek says bluntly. Noah can see him weighing his words. “Focus on my heartbeat. I know I’m not Stiles, but focus on that, and on Scott’s, because he’s still here, too, and we all want to find him.”

When Noah doesn’t reply right away, Derek adds, “Try to tell the difference in our heartbeats, in our scents. In the heartbeats and the scents of everyone in the station. Pack is about more than just blood.”

“Stiles is the heart of me,” Noah admits.

“Then let us help you find him,” Derek says. “And we will.”

Control returns by increments as Noah takes Derek’s advice, focusing on each of the heartbeats that he can hear in the station—Derek’s and Scott’s, but also each of his deputies. He focuses on the scent of burnt coffee and sweat and everything else that goes with it.

He feels his face change back, and he feels a little more centered. Still on edge, and it won’t take much to set him off again, but Noah thinks he can at least talk to the Martins without flashing any fang.

“I’m okay,” Noah says, taking a deep breath. “I don’t think I’ll be able to do this on my own, but I can’t explain your presence.”

Derek nods. “I’ll stay as close as I can. Maybe you can take Scott, since he’s Stiles’ friend, and a classmate.”

Noah agrees with Derek’s reasoning, and when he exits his office, he finds Scott still waiting for him. “Is everything okay?” Scott asks.

“We’re going to talk to Lydia Martin,” Noah says. “And yes, you can come with me.”

Scott is nearly vibrating with worry as Noah drives to the Martins’ house. “You don’t think Allison has anything to do with this, do you?”

Noah is having a hard time thinking of anyone else who might have been involved, since Allison is the last person to see Stiles, as far as they know. “I don’t know, Scott, but I think it’s likely.”

“She wouldn’t do something like that, though,” Scott protests. “I mean, even if Allison knew about werewolves and all that, she wouldn’t hurt Stiles.”

Noah knows that Scott can be unreasonable, and so all he says is, “I really hope that’s true.”

Because if Allison is involved in any way, Noah is going to make sure she pays for it.

Noah pulls up in front of the house and says, “Let me do the talking. You’re mostly here just in case I start to lose control.”

Scott grimaces. “I can try, Sheriff, but my control isn’t that great either.”

“Then we’ll just have to muddle through together,” Noah replies.

He rings the doorbell and is immediately greeted by Mrs. Martin. “Come in, Sheriff. Thanks for waiting until after dinner.”

“Of course,” he says. “Scott here is also quite worried, as I’m sure you can understand. Stiles hasn’t been responding to him either.”

Mrs. Martin ushers them into a well-appointed living room, where Lydia is sitting, her expression a mixture of confusion and impatience. “I don’t know why you wanted to talk to me,” she immediately says. “I have no idea where Stiles is.”

Noah reminds himself to have patience. “Stiles said he was meeting you and Allison Argent after school today. Did you see him at all after classes let out?”

Lydia shakes her head. “No. Allison said she’d meet me there, but then texted on the way saying that there was a family emergency, and she had to bail.” She hesitates. “I tried on some dresses, but I never saw Allison or Stiles at the mall. I honestly don’t know what to tell you, Sheriff.”

“Is there a reason that Allison’s cell phone might ping a tower near the Preserve?” Noah asks.

Lydia frowns. “I went out there the other day with Allison. She used to do archery, or whatever, and she said she was starting up again.”

“Archery, interesting,” Noah murmurs. “Well, thank you, Lydia. If you remember anything else, or if you hear from Stiles, will you call me?”

Lydia takes the card he holds out, and she says, “Of course, Sheriff.”

“Allison wouldn’t hurt Stiles,” Scott says as he trails Noah out of the house. “She wouldn’t.”

“I didn’t say she would, or that she had,” Noah says. “You’re the one who keeps bringing it up.”

Scott frowns at that. “I know, but you’re thinking it.”

Noah gives him a dirty look. “Don’t presume to know what I’m thinking, Scott. But yes, I do want to talk to the last person likely to have seen Stiles. I’d feel that way about anyone who went missing.”

“We could go over to her house,” Scott offers.

Noah shakes his head. “I don’t want to talk to the Argents right now.”

If Noah smells Stiles on Allison, or anyone else in the household, if he thinks any of them are involved, or that Stiles is hurt, he’ll probably lose control.

Derek is waiting for them in Noah’s office, pacing, and he’s definitely worked himself up. “Did Lydia know anything?”

Noah shakes his head. “Just that Allison blew her off for a family emergency.”

“I have a hunch,” Derek says. “But it might be a wild goose chase.”

“I would welcome a wild goose at this point,” Noah admits. “What are you thinking?”

“The only structure in the Preserve is the—my house,” Derek says grimly.

Noah frowns. “Lydia also said that Allison had picked up archery again, and they were both out at the Preserve the other day.”

“Like I said,” Derek reiterates. “It could be a wild goose chase, but if there’s even a chance that Kate would—she’d think using the old house was hilarious.”

Noah takes a deep breath. “Okay, it’s worth checking out. The worst that could happen is that we find nothing and make an unnecessary trip.”

“If they are at the house, we’ll need to approach carefully,” Derek says. “If there are hunters, we can’t take anybody else with us.”

Noah nods and leads them out. “Tara, I’m going to take the boys to get something to eat, okay? I’ll have my radio and my cell.”

Tara nods. “I’ll be here, sir.”

“It’s about time for you to head home,” Noah reminds her.

Tara smiles. “No, sir. I’ll be here until you find Stiles, and I know he’s safe.”

Noah doesn’t bother trying to argue with her. She has a fondness for Stiles, and she’s a woman of her word. “All right. I’ll be back in a bit.”

The other reason Noah is willing to go out to the old Hale house to look for Stiles is that there’s a half-assed reason for it, and it’s better than sitting around.

Especially since his other option would be to go brace the Argents in their home.

~~~~~

The little niggling feeling that had started when he’d seen where the Argent girl’s phone pinged blossoms after the sheriff leaves.

Derek tries to forget about Kate, and what they’d done together, and how she touched him. The sheriff’s realization about what happened to him called up a lot of bad memories.

But those memories are of the way she manipulated him, and convinced him to tell her things that he would never have told anyone.

Kate knows how to prey on kids, and Allison is a kid.

The more Derek thinks about it, the more he’s convinced that Kate would take great pleasure in using his old house to bait a trap, to draw the Alpha to what had likely been the location of his greatest trauma.

By the time the sheriff returns, Derek knows how on edge he is, and it’s probably only that he’s a born wolf that he’s not flashing fang.

He’s gratified when Stilinski welcomes his suggestion and even makes up an excuse to leave the station with the two of them.

“We’ll take the Camaro,” Stilinski says. “It’s going to be less conspicuous than my vehicle.”

Derek nods. The Camaro is parked at the sheriff’s house, so they drive there first, and then they all pile into Derek’s car. Derek knows Beacon Hills like the back of his hand, and he remembers how to get into the Preserve the back way.

He shuts off his headlights for the last two miles, and then parks at least a mile away from the house.

“We’ll stick together and follow you,” Stilinski whispers. “Scott, whatever we find, you’re going to let me handle it.”

Scott shakes his head. “No, Sheriff.”

“I’m not interested in hurting anyone, but if they have Stiles in there, I’ll do whatever it takes to get him out again,” Stilinski says fiercely.

There’s a growl to his voice that immediately has Scott backing down. It’s not the growl of an Alpha, but rather of an old wolf who knows his own mind, and his own power.

Derek doesn’t bother waiting to see whether Scott will back down; he already knows that Scott will. He just starts making his way, quickly and quietly, towards his old house. The land underneath still belongs to the Hale Trust, an LLC that the Hales had set up a few generations back.

The LLC paid for their apartment in New York, and their schooling. Derek wonders if it also paid for Peter’s long-term care, or if that had been billed to the county.

Derek wonders how much Laura had known when they fled Beacon Hills.

As they approach, Derek scents the breeze, wanting to know how many people they might be facing, but then he gets another scent: wintergreen and musk, and the sharp, acrid scent of sweat.

Fear-sweat, to be precise. There’s no other smell like it.

Derek holds up a hand to stop Scott and Stilinski, then closes his eyes and takes another deep breath. Then another.

Then another.

On the third, Derek has a good idea as to where Stiles is, and it’s not inside the house

He creeps along, because Derek can also smell cordite and aconite, which means there are hunters here. He strains his ears and hears three heartbeats, one rapid, two slow.

Derek heads towards the smell of fear and the sound of the rabbit-fast heart. He can tell when both Stilinski and Scott realize what he’s doing, and where he’s going, because Stilinski pushes ahead.

He heads unerringly toward the hollow of a fallen tree, and Stilinski brushes aside leaves to reveal Stiles’ half-naked, bloody form.

Stiles is unconscious, his lips tinged slightly blue, and Derek immediately strips off his jacket, helping the sheriff pull his kid out. Derek threads Stiles’ arms through it. Stilinski also takes off his own coat and puts it around Stiles from the front.

Stilinski picks his son up, and Derek can tell that he wants to howl, and he shakes his head.

Instead, Stilinski just lets out a whimper.

“His heartbeat is strong,” Derek murmurs. “We’ll get him to the hospital to get checked out, but it would be better if the hunters didn’t hear us. The place isn’t swarming with them, so they don’t know he’s gone yet. Let’s keep it that way.”

Stilinski nods, and they run back towards the Camaro. Stilinski places Stiles in the backseat and then climbs in after him, leaving the front passenger seat for Scott. Derek starts driving, but he doesn’t speed too much.

Stiles’ breathing is even, and his heartbeat is steady. Derek has no idea why he’s unconscious, but he figures the hospital will be able to figure it out.

In the backseat, Stilinski is calling the hospital, letting them know that he’s bringing his son in for treatment, that he may be suffering from hypothermia and other unknown trauma after being abducted that afternoon.

When Derek pulls up in front of the emergency room doors, there are nurses and a doctor and a gurney. They swarm Stiles’ still form and immediately start him on oxygen and whisk him inside.

“Go,” Derek tells Stilinski. “We’ll be right behind you as soon as I park.”

Not so much “we,” though. Scott bails then, and leaves Derek to park the Camaro in the visitor’s section.

He makes his way inside a little more slowly, and is intercepted before he can walk in.

He recognizes the man immediately. “Uncle Peter.”

“Did you see what that woman did to your friend?” Peter asks. “Tortured a human just to get to me.”

“I did see,” Derek replies. “Which is why I’m going inside to check on him.”

“I need your help,” Peter says, his blue eyes reflecting a worrisome madness. “We’re family, pack. You have to help me.”

Derek stares at him. “No, I don’t. And you’re not pack. You lured my sister here in order to steal the Alpha spark. I saw the picture of the deer you marked with a spiral.”

Peter rocks back on his heels and then smirks. “You’re smarter than I thought, Derek, or did the sheriff pick that out? I didn’t plan on biting him, you know. He’s not going to be malleable.”

“The sheriff asked me to help, and I found it,” Derek replies. “I knew what it was immediately. I don’t—I don’t wish you ill, but I’m not joining you either. You’re risking so much.”

“No risk, no reward,” Peter replies. “But suit yourself, Derek. Just know that if you don’t join me, I’ll not welcome you in this territory, and I’ll make sure that the sheriff doesn’t make it.”

Another emergency sends more first responders out of the automatic doors, and Peter melts away. Derek heads inside, and he sees Scott waiting for him in the waiting area.

“What took you so long?” Scott demands.

“I ran into the Alpha,” Derek hisses. “What do you know?”

“They aren’t sure,” Scott replies. “They took him back for the doctors to look at, and they let the sheriff go with him, but not me.”

“I heard they brought Stiles in,” Melissa says as she approaches at a fast walk. “Are you okay, Scott?”

Scott goes to hug her, clinging to his mom in a way that Derek envies. “I’m fine, Mom. I don’t—someone abducted Stiles from school.”

Derek notices that he’s leaving out the name of his abductor, even if Scott probably knows already. That’s going to cause problems down the road, Derek just knows it.

“But you’re okay?” Melissa asks.

“I’m fine,” Scott insists. “I’ve been helping the sheriff look for him. We found him in the woods.”

Melissa closes her eyes. “Thank god for that. Thank god.” She looks at Derek. “Are you okay?”

“I was with the sheriff,” Derek replies.

“You can go on back,” Melissa says. “I won’t stop you, and I’m sure Noah could use the support.”

Derek doesn’t hesitate, because he knows that’s where Stiles and the sheriff are, and he leaves Scott with his mom. He hopes that she knocks some sense into his head, or at least tells him to cooperate with the interviews.

And if Scott doesn’t cooperate, Derek has no idea how that’s going to play with Stiles and his dad.

Stiles has already been installed in a bed in a private room, probably so the sheriff can control access to him. He’s still unconscious, with an oxygen mask over his face, the heart monitor beeping, and covered in blankets.

“How is he?” Derek asks.

Stilinski has a hand resting on Stiles’ arm. “I don’t know yet. The doctor is ordering more tests.”

Derek can take Stiles’ pain, but if he does that, they might not be able to figure out what’s wrong with him. “He might have been electrocuted. If they thought he was a werewolf.”

Stilinski’s expression grows even grimmer. “We already found the taser burns, and he was hypothermic. They said it might be exhaustion or shock that’s keeping him unconscious.”

“He’s in a lot of pain,” Derek offers. “Pretty much all over.”

A doctor comes into the room and begins to look at Stiles’ chart. “It’s going to take a few hours for the lab results to come through, but I don’t like the EKG readings. Even the electricity from a taser can sometimes have a damaging effect on the heart muscle. I’m going to keep Stiles at least overnight.”

Stilinski nods. “I have deputies on the way. I want to know who’s assigned to Stiles’ room at all times, and only those people are to have access.”

“Of course, Sheriff,” the doctor replies as he leaves. “We’ll keep access limited.”

After the doctor is gone, Stiles begins to stir, letting out a high whine.

“Stiles, you’re safe,” Stilinski says. “Just relax, son. You’re in the hospital, and I’m right here.”

Stiles blinks his eyes open, the lines of pain around his eyes and mouth obvious. “It was Allison, Dad. Allison and Kate Argent had me in the basement of the old Hale house.”

“Okay, Stiles,” Stilinski says. “I have people on the way, and they’re going to take your statement, and take care of the warrants.”

Stiles stiffens. “Everything hurts. They used electricity. I thought I was gonna die, Dad.”

Derek puts a hand on Stiles’ forehead and starts pulling out his pain, seeing the black veins run up his hand and arm.

“What is that?” Stilinski asks.

“Werewolves can drain pain,” Derek replies. “I don’t want to do too much, because it can make things worse in the long run.”

But he takes enough to have Stiles relaxing again. “Thanks,” Stiles whispers.

“Sheriff?” a deputy calls from the doorway. “I’m here to take Stiles’ statement. You’re welcome to stay with him if you’d like.”

Stilinski nods. “I would like, Dave. Derek—“

“I’ll go grab you a cup of coffee,” Derek replies. He can hear Stiles’ statement just fine from the hallway.

“Thanks,” Stilinski says with a weary smile.

Derek doesn’t have to go far to find coffee, but he keeps an ear out for what Stiles is saying.

“Why don’t you start at the beginning,” the deputy says gently. “Just go at your own pace, Stiles.”

“I was supposed to go shopping with Allison Argent and Lydia Martin after school,” Stiles begins. “And Allison suggested that she drive us, and we’d meet Lydia at the mall.”

Derek can hear the emotion in Stiles voice, and that emotion is clearly the sense of betrayal. Stiles shouldn’t have had to fear one of his classmates.

“She turned the wrong way out of the school parking lot,” Stiles continues. “So, I told her that we were heading the wrong way, and there was a voice in the backseat, and she tasered me.”

“Who tasered you?” the deputy asks, his tone still gentle.

There’s a pause, and then Stiles says, “I think her aunt Kate. That’s what Allison called her after I woke up.”

“Tell me about waking up,” the deputy says.

Derek stays outside the room as Stiles describes waking up in handcuffs, hanging from an old bed frame, with Kate electrocuting him and hitting him when he tried to plead with Allison. According to Stiles, Allison partly blamed him for what had happened at the high school. Kate seemed to think she was using him as bait for someone else.

“I just don’t understand,” Stiles says. “None of it made sense.”

Derek has to admit that Stiles spins a good tale, full of just the right amount of the truth. The only thing Stiles says where Derek can hear the tell-tale skip of his heartbeat that indicates deception is when he says he doesn’t understand.

The hole in the story is werewolves, but no one is going to expect that.

“I have to photograph your injuries, Stiles,” the deputy says.

“That’s fine,” Stiles says, sounding subdued.

Derek listens to the rustling, and when it ceases, he raps on the door jamb. “I brought your coffee, Sheriff.”

“Come on in, Derek,” Stilinski says. “I think we have the preliminaries out of the way.”

Derek hands him the paper cup, and Stiles shifts uncomfortably. “Don’t I get a cup of coffee?”

“Not until the doctor clears you,” Stilinski says. “He didn’t like your heart rhythm.”

“Electricity can damage the heart, among other organs,” Stiles says dully. “And cause seizures, and muscle pain and weakness, which I am definitely feeling.”

Stilinski runs a hand over Stiles’ short hair. “You should try to sleep more, kiddo. You had quite the ordeal.”

The deputy clears his throat. “I just had one more question, Sheriff. Stiles, how did you get loose? I see the bruises on your wrists, so I’m not doubting that you were chained up, but you didn’t say how you got free. Did someone release you?”

Stiles shakes his head. “No, I taught myself how to pick locks when I was ten. I was—I was pretty out of it, so I don’t have a lot of clear memories, but I think there was a loose wire on the bed frame?”

Derek wonders if it’s too late to go back to the scene to ensure that there is a loose wire. He supposes it probably is.

“All right, Stiles,” the deputy says. “I’ve got what I need to get started.”

“There were at least two guards there when I got out of the house,” Stiles says. “And the Argents are well-armed, so be careful.”

The deputy smiles. “Glad you’re a resourceful little shit, Stiles. You got real lucky.”

“Don’t I know it,” Stiles mutters. “I’m pretty sure Kate was planning to kill me.”

Stilinski makes a punched-out sound. “She’s not going to get away with it.”

“I hope that’s true, Dad,” Stiles says, and his voice is dull, and his eyes drift shut. “But if Kate was willing to kidnap and torture me, maybe they think they can get away with anything.”

Stiles is asleep when the deputy says, “He’s too young to be that cynical.”

“He just got kidnapped and tortured by someone he thought was a friend,” Derek points out. “He’s allowed.”

The deputy sighs. “Point.” He holds out a hand to Derek. “I knew your mom, Mr. Hale. I was sorry to hear about your loss. I’m Deputy Dave Anders.”

“Derek,” he replies. “Mr. Hale was my father.”

Deputy Anders nods at him. “I’ll be in touch, Sheriff. I know you can’t be involved in the investigation, but we’ll keep you in the loop as much as we can.”

“Appreciate that, Dave,” Stillinski says.

The deputy lets himself out, and when they’re alone, the sheriff says, “Was it just me, or was Stiles lying about how he got loose?”

Derek sighs. “It wasn’t a total lie. I think he did get himself loose, but I don’t think he picked the locks. Or at least, I don’t think he picked them with a loose wire.”

“Shit,” Stilinski says. “If that loose wire isn’t there, it’s going to cast doubt on the rest of Stiles’ story.”

“Is there enough time to make that happen?” Derek asks.

Stilinski shakes his head. “No, probably not, and I don’t really want to risk it either. But we’ll get more information out of Stiles once he wakes up. Maybe he got the wire loose and carried it with him when he escaped.”

Derek raises his eyebrows. “You’re considering planting evidence.”

“To protect Stiles and under these circumstances, yes,” he says grimly.

Derek takes a deep breath, and he can see the depth of resolve in the sheriff’s eyes. “Just tell me what you want me to do.”

“For now, stay here,” the sheriff says. “I think it’s better if we stick together.”

Derek slumps in the second chair. “Yeah, it’s definitely better. I ran into Peter outside the hospital, and I told him that I knew he lured Laura here, and I wouldn’t be joining him.”

“I’m sure there were threats,” Stilinski says wearily.

“I’ll be kicked out of the territory, and he plans on killing you, Sheriff,” Derek says. “Because you’re not malleable.”

“He’s not wrong about that,” Stilinski mutters. “And Derek, I think it’s about time for you to call me Noah.”

Derek manages a weary smile. “Yeah, okay. Sounds good.”

---