Reading Time: 112 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 5

Everything still hurts when Stiles wakes up for the sixth time. It turns out that a hospital stay is not conducive to a good night’s rest, not that he had ever thought otherwise. Stiles still remembers spending hours there when his mom had been sick, trying to nap in the uncomfortable, plastic chairs.

At least the nurse brought in a slightly more comfortable-looking padded chair for his dad, and Derek has been awake each time Stiles is.

“Don’t you sleep, dude?” Stiles asks. The light outside the window of his room is lightening, suggesting that dawn is just around the corner.

“I’m not a dude,” Derek replies. “How are you feeling?”

“I think my hair hurts,” Stiles complains. It’s his entire body, but also the sharp line of pain where the glass cut him. At least he hadn’t needed stitches, but Stiles knows he’s going to be sore for a while.

Derek puts his hand on top of Stiles’ hand, and Stiles feels the sweet, sweet relief of the werewolf-y pain drain. It’s the second or third time Derek has done that for him, because the doctor had been cautious about prescribing anything stronger than Motrin, and that doesn’t touch it.

“How come Scott didn’t come by?” Stiles asks, knowing that he sounds a little plaintive.

Derek looks a little shifty. “The—Noah said that he didn’t want anyone in your room except for him, me, and authorized medical personnel.”

“First name basis now, huh?” Stiles comments. “That’s probably a good sign.” He’s not going to allow the distraction, though. “But I would have thought Scott would insist.”

“Your dad is still the sheriff,” Derek points out, sounding almost amused.

“Real reason,” Stiles insists. “Because your expression suggests there was more to it than that.”

Derek shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it right now. I have my suspicions, but I’m hoping to be pleasantly surprised for once.”

Stiles knows Scott well enough to make a guess. “Scott isn’t going to want to hear about his lady-love’s involvement.”

“He might surprise you,” Derek says, but his tone suggests that he doesn’t have much hope for that.

Stiles doesn’t either.

He falls asleep again, and then wakes when the nurse brings his breakfast tray. This time, his dad is awake and Derek isn’t there. Stiles looks around, and his dad seems to read his mind. “I sent him to get cleaned up and get something to eat that isn’t hospital food. No reason for him to suffer, too.”

“And yet, I have to suffer,” Stiles mutters, looking at the reconstituted eggs and toast.

“Only until you’re released,” Noah replies. “I have a question to ask you, Stiles, and I want you to answer as honestly as you can, okay?”

Stiles has a feeling he knows where this is going. “I promise, Dad.”

“How did you get out of those handcuffs?” Noah asks.

Stiles closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “I—I don’t know exactly. I just knew that Kate was going to kill me, and I didn’t want to do that to you. I imagined I had a paperclip, and I pictured how it would move the tumblers, and I heard a click.”

He sees his dad’s confusion and disbelief, and Stiles turns his head away. “I knew you wouldn’t believe me.”

“I didn’t say that I don’t believe you,” his dad says. “It’s just taking me a minute to wrap my brain around something that sounds a lot like magic.”

“Maybe it is magic,” Stiles whispers.

“Maybe it is,” his dad says. “If there’s anything that wouldn’t surprise me, it would be finding out that you’re magic.”

That eases the ache in Stiles’ chest a bit. “But you still have to explain how I got out, unless I say that someone helped me.”

“Your story last night was good,” his dad admits. “We might have to ‘find’ that piece of wire somewhere later, but no one who knows you is going to be surprised that you taught yourself to pick a lock.”

Stiles takes a deep breath. “What about Scott?”

“You can see Scott once the doctor releases you,” his dad says, his tone grim.

“Scott—he’s not taking the news well, is he?” Stiles asks.

“I’m not involved in the investigation,” his dad replies. “And I haven’t had much chance to talk to him. I haven’t given him much chance, to tell you the truth.”

“Did they arrest Allison and Kate Argent?” Stiles asks.

His dad takes a deep breath. “They found Allison at her home, and she was taken into custody. Kate slipped away.”

“She’s gonna go after Derek, Dad, and she knows there’s at least one other beta out there,” Stiles says. “She thought it was me, I guess because she’d seen me with Derek.”

His dad squeezes his shoulder. “That’s why I have a deputy with Derek. They might not understand all the nuances, but they know that Kate is unhinged, and she’s targeting the Hales.”

“I guess that’s as good an explanation as any,” Stiles says. “Because I’m pretty sure she is a psychopathic bitch.”

“Language,” his dad cautions. “Even if I can’t disagree.”

“What about Allison?” Stiles asks. “What’s going to happen to her?”

His dad sighs deeply. “Last I heard, her dad instructed her not to speak to anyone until their lawyer got there. If the lawyer is worth the price, he’ll keep her quiet. After that, it will probably depend on who talks first, and how much Argent is willing to sacrifice in order to protect his daughter.”

“And their secret,” Stiles mutters. “Because their secret is just as big.”

“True,” his dad agrees. “But I’m calling in help, Stiles. None of my people have the experience to run an investigation like this one.”

Stiles frowns. “Does that mean you called the feds?”

“That’s exactly what it means,” his dad replies. “Although I requested they send anyone other than Agent McCall.”

Stiles clears his throat. “Because you think Kate Argent is a serial killer.”

“Because I think that there’s very little chance that she hasn’t done to others what she did to the Hales,” his dad confirms. “I’m not saying you have a say, Stiles, but what do you want to happen to Allison?”

Stiles shifts uncomfortably. “I don’t know, Dad. Kate was definitely the instigator, and I could see her manipulating Allison, but she let me be tortured. She didn’t try to contact you as soon as she could. She was just going to leave me there.”

“She did leave you there, and she’s going to face some consequences for that,” his dad replies. “But I’m not going to lie to you. Her age is going to be taken into consideration. If she rolls on Kate and testifies against her, she might wind up with probation.”

“As long as she stays very far away from me,” Stiles replies.

“That’s a given,” his dad says. “I’m going to ask for a restraining order against the entire Argent family. But you need to know something else, Stiles. If that’s granted, the Argents will probably need to leave Beacon Hills, because Allison won’t be able to attend high school with you there.”

Stiles groans. “Scott is going to hate that.”

“Scott’s feelings on the matter don’t concern me,” his dad says grimly.

Stiles knows the fallout on this isn’t going to be pretty. Scott is probably going to blame him if Allison has to leave town.

“This whole thing sucks,” Stiles mutters.

“I know,” his dad says sympathetically. “But eat your breakfast. The doctor said that if the latest round of tests come back clean, and your lab values look good, he’ll release you this morning.”

Stiles picks up his fork, and begins eating the rubbery, cold eggs. It’s incredibly unappetizing, but he knows better than to complain. If he doesn’t eat, there’s no way they’re going to release him.

He cleans his plate and drinks his orange juice, wishing for coffee instead. Stiles puts up with yet another blood draw, and then there’s another period of waiting. His dad has charged his phone, so Stiles can at least play games while he’s waiting for the all-clear.

And then Derek reappears, wearing clean jeans and carrying a plastic shopping bag. “I brought you something to wear.”

“Oh, thank god,” Stiles says fervently. “I hate hospital gowns.”

“When the doctor clears you,” his dad says firmly. “They’re a little concerned that you’re a fall risk.”

Stiles looks at his trembling hand and says, “Well, he might not be wrong.”

An hour later, the doctor returns with a smile on his face. “You’re a very lucky young man, Stiles,” he says. “The blood panel came back normal. Sheriff, I suggest keeping him home for the rest of the week. Being exposed to that much electricity can sometimes cause seizures. I’m not expecting that, but it would be for the best if someone kept an eye on him.”

“I’ll be around,” Derek asserts.

“Thank you, Derek,” his dad says. “Go get dressed, Stiles.”

Stiles disappears into the bathroom, and although he badly wants a shower, he wants out of the hospital more. Instead, he splashes water on his face and grabs a quick wash in the sink, then pulls on the clean clothes that Derek brought.

“I can do this,” Stiles tells his reflection. “It’s all going to be just fine.”

He wishes that he could believe that.

Stiles emerges from the bathroom to find his dad talking with Derek quietly, and the worried look doesn’t quite leave his face. “Looking much better, kiddo,” his dad says. “Derek is going to drive you home and hang out with you today. Scott will bring you your assignments after school. I’ve already called and excused you for the rest of the week.”

“The Winter Formal is out, isn’t it?” Stiles asks, but he’s not all that disappointed. He would have loved to go with Lydia, but Scott is banned.

Besides, it’s tainted now.

“I’d rather you not go,” his dad says. “But if you’re feeling up to it, I’m going to let you make that decision.”

Stiles shakes his head. “No. It’s not—it’s not that important anyway, not when we have everything else to worry about.”

His dad just looks sad at that comment. “Well, I need to head into the station, at least for a little bit. I’ll probably have an update for you when I get home. No cooking tonight, though. We can order take-out.”

“I can cook,” Derek says. “Laura hated coking, so I did most of it at home.”

“That would be incredibly helpful, Derek, thank you,” his dad says.

“No problem,” Derek says easily.

He leads Stiles out to the parking lot and his Camaro, hands buried in the pockets of his leather jacket. Stiles appreciates the fact that he’s not obviously hovering.

Just the walk to the car tires Stiles out, though, and he has no idea why. He leans his head against the window, and then sits up straight. “My Jeep!”

“It’s parked in front of your house,” Derek assures him. “I took care of that this morning.”

Stiles looks at Derek. “How come you’re being so nice to me? You haven’t threatened me once.”

Derek glowers at him. “First, you haven’t done anything to warrant being threatened.”

“I hadn’t before either,” Stiles says, stung.

“Second, you just got tortured because Kate thought they could get to me that way,” Derek says. “It could have been me.”

“It would have been worse if it were you,” Stiles says. “They wouldn’t have stopped at a little electricity. Pretty sure they didn’t want to kill me too early.”

Derek frowns. “Your dad told me what you said about the handcuffs. I never had much to do with that side of things, but every pack typically has an emissary, a magic-user.”

“Magic is real? You mean, really real?” Stiles asks, and feels some emotion that is hard to define. He feels a bit like it’s Christmas.

Derek nods. “Sure it is, not that I know much about it. My mom and Peter were always way more involved in that than I was, but I know there are a few different kinds. Druids are more focused on the balance, but there are others, too. Druids are the most common magic-users, though.”

Stiles leans against the passenger door and gives that some thought. “Well, I guess that gives me a place to start anyway. If I know that magic and druids are a real thing, then I can go from there, at least while I wait for Scott to bring my assignments.”

“Do you want me to stick close for that?” Derek asks.

Stiles shrugs. “Scott isn’t going to hurt me.”

Derek sighs. “Would you allow me to stick close for that?”

“Why?” Stiles asks. “It’s just Scott.”

“It’s an instinct when there’s an injured pack member,” Derek admits reluctantly as he pulls up in front of the house.

Stiles feels a warmth in his chest. “Okay. If you feel the need to stick close, I’m not going to argue with you.”

In truth, Stiles thinks, it’s nice to have a bodyguard who’s willing to take his side.

~~~~~

Noah gets a copy of Stiles’ hospital records to take to the station with him. Along with the photographs taken of Stiles’ injuries, they’ll be used as evidence in the case against Kate—and Allison.

He’s somehow unsurprised to see Chris Argent waiting in the small area set aside for visitors. There’s also a woman Noah assumes is his wife, since she looks just as unhappy as Argent does.

“I can’t talk to you,” Noah says. “I’m not in charge of the investigation, for obvious reasons, and we’re on opposing sides.”

“This has been a mistake,” Chris says angrily. “I don’t know why your son lied about Allison’s involvement, but—“

Tara comes rushing over. “Mr. Argent, Mrs. Argent, you need to sit. I told you that I would let you in to see your daughter when her lawyer is done speaking with her.”

She’s a small woman, but she easily blocks the Argents from following him as he makes a beeline for his office.

Noah closes the door behind him with a sigh of relief. He’d made a few phone calls from the hospital hallway while Stiles had been asleep, Derek watching over him.

He’s glad to have a reason not to talk to the Argents, because he would probably say something that he’ll regret down the road. As it stands, he wants to demand answers, demand that they explain to him how they could give a psychopath access to their daughter.

Or how they could be such unbelievable bigots.

Noah has a voicemail from an FBI agent, indicating that they would be sending two agents from the San Francisco office that same day.

It’s a faster response time than Noah is expecting, and it drives home how seriously the FBI is taking things. He’s sent the evidence he gathered on the Hale house fire, and he’s starting to wonder if that had been the tipping point.

Maybe there are other fires where entire families burned up under questionable circumstances, even if arson had been ruled out.

Tara knocks on his door, and Noah gestures her to come in. “Where are the Argents?”

“Back with their daughter,” Tara replies. “I imagine their next call is going to be to the prosecutor’s office.”

Noah snorts. “What did the search turn up?”

“Plenty,” Tara replies. “We seized a bunch of items from the bedroom they said Kate is using, including a computer and several journals, as well as guns, bullets, and tools that look like they might have been used for torture.”

“Jesus,” Noah mutters, rubbing his eyes. “And the Hale house?”

“Just as Stiles described in his statement,” Tara admits. “Bed frame, empty handcuffs, and a generator that was probably used to electrocute him.”

Noah takes a deep breath. “I could kill someone, Tara.”

“I’ll help you hide the bodies,” Tara says, and when Noah looks up, she’s not joking. “Stiles might be a little shit, sir, but he’s our little shit. The only real question is how he got out of those cuffs.”

Noah glances at her. “He said he found a loose wire and picked them.”

Tara snorts. “You know what? I’d believe it. I just hope he decides to use his powers for good and not for evil.”

“So do I,” Noah says dryly. “Thanks, Tara. Do we know when the Argent girl is going to be arraigned?”

“Probably this afternoon,” Tara admits. “Her lawyer is going to push for it.”

Noah shrugs. “Fine, but I want a PRO for Stiles.”

“Already in the works,” Tara assures him. “I figured you’d require it before sending Stiles back to school.”

“He’s going to be out for the rest of the week, and we’ll see after that,” Noah says. “He’s still feeling a little shaky.”

Tara shakes her head. “Poor kid. I might stop by your place today to check on him. Would that be okay?”

“I think he’d be delighted to know that there are others who are interested in his well-being,” Noah replies honestly. “Thanks, Tara.”

“Anytime, Sheriff.”

Noah calls back the number left on his voicemail from the FBI, not really expecting an answer. Instead, a pleasant feminine voice answers, “Agent Betancourt.”

“Ah, Agent Betancourt,” he says, caught a bit flat-footed. “This is Sheriff Stilinski of the Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Department?”

“Oh, yes, Sheriff,” she says. “Thanks for calling me back.”

“Of course,” Noah replies. “I appreciate your assistance. We’re in a little bit over our heads.”

“I heard your son was one of the victims,” she says sympathetically. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s recovering,” Noah replies. “I left him with a family friend. You got the package I sent then?”

“I can’t say much about it right now, but I can say that this isn’t an isolated event,” Betancourt says. “This family has left a wide swath of bodies behind.”

Noah would believe it, and he’d bet that there were a number of innocents in that number, too, even if the Argents would dispute it.

“I’m going to try to exercise restraint and stay out of the investigation,” Noah says. “But if I overstep, just tell me.”

Betancourt laughs. “Fair enough. If it were my kid, I’d be a mess, and I’d probably push a little, too. We’ll take that into consideration, even if we have to tell you to back down.”

“Thanks,” Noah replies. “I’ll see you when you arrive. Are you flying or driving?”

“We left early this morning by car, so we should be there in an hour or so,” Betancourt replies. “We’ll plan on coming straight to the station.”

“That works,” Noah replies. “Drive safe.”

“We’ll be there soon, Sheriff Stilinski,” she replies.

Noah breathes a sigh of relief as he hangs up the phone, relieved to have some outside assistance. The state police hadn’t been all that helpful, but when Noah starts reading the reports generated by the raid on the old Hale house and the Argent house the night before, he thinks he knows why.

One of those arrested at the Hale house, apparently standing guard over Stiles’ torture, had been the state police detective called in to investigate.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Noah whispers. He’s beginning to wonder just how deep the Argents’ influence goes, and if it’s this deep…

What hope does Noah have of protecting his son? Not unless he can find a way to—what? Bring the entire station into the know, and then close Beacon Hills to hunters?

Would that even be an option?

Noah shakes his head and pushes that to the side. “Sufficient unto the day,” he mutters, remembering something his grandmother used to say. Sufficient unto the day are the troubles thereof.

They have to find and stop Peter first, and get through this thing with the Argents, and then they’ll have to figure the rest out.

Noah goes through the reports and paperwork he’d gotten behind on while searching for Stiles. It all piles up, and Noah is hard at work when Tara knocks and pokes her head in. “The FBI agents are here, sir.”

“Send them in,” Noah replies.

Agent Betancourt has light brown skin and curly hair. She’s the first to shake his hand. “SSA Nikki Betancourt.”

“Noah Stilinski,” he replies. “Nice to meet you in person.”

“This is Special Agent Abel Marsh,” she says. “He’s new, so I’m still breaking him in.”

Marsh rolls his eyes. “I’ve been an agent for ten years, Nikki.”

“First time with a serial offender, though,” Nikki replies cheerfully. “And you never forget your first.”

“Please, sit,” Noah says. “I’m happy to give you whatever information you need.”

“Do you know why Kate Argent might have targeted your son?” Betancourt asks.

Noah takes a deep breath. “I’ve taken Derek Hale under my wing after his sister was killed. I thought he might be a target, given what happened to Laura. Kate Argent targeted Derek when he was a teenager, grooming him, and I believe that she’s behind the arson. I think she saw Stiles with Derek and thought he’d make good bait.”

Marsh frowns. “Are they dating? Our information on Derek Hale says he’s 22.”

Noah laughs. “No, they aren’t dating. You have to understand my son. He has a tendency to get involved in things, even if he shouldn’t.”

“I heard he picked the locks on his cuffs to get free,” Betancourt says. “Hid in the woods until you could find him.”

“That’s right,” Noah replies, because however Stiles had done it, he had freed himself from that basement.

And Noah had seen the pictures his deputies took when they’d come upon the crime scene. The whole place is a horror show.

“Has he thought about becoming an FBI agent?” Betancourt asks, and she’s smiling, but Noah thinks she’s about half-serious.

“You’d have to ask him,” Noah replies. “And I’m sure you’ll need to talk to him at some point.”

Betancourt nods. “We can do it someplace where he’s comfortable, and in your presence, Sheriff. We don’t want to further traumatize him.”

Noah is pretty sure that Stiles can handle anything the FBI agents throw his way, but he’s less sure about Scott.

As if on cue, Noah’s phone chimes with a text, and he glances down. “One second, sorry. I’m still coordinating care for my son.”

The text is from Mel, and it says, “Scott will bring Stiles’ assignments after lacrosse practice, but you may want someone to be there when he does. He keeps saying that Stiles must have been mistaken about Allison’s involvement.”

Noah bites back a curse, since that would both be unprofessional and invite questions that he doesn’t want to answer. He fires off a text to her, to let her know that Stiles isn’t going to be alone, and then another to Derek.

Derek responds immediately. “Will step in.”

Noah puts his phone down. “Sorry about that.”

“No, don’t worry about it,” Betancourt replies. “I understand. Do you think you could arrange an interview with your son and Derek Hale? We do have information that links someone we believe to be Kate Argent to several other crimes.”

Noah nods. “Of course. Can it wait until tomorrow? I’m keeping Stiles out of classes for the rest of the week, and Derek is with him right now since the doctor didn’t want him to be alone today.”

Betancourt nods. “We have enough to start with. We can do the interviews here or at your house, if you prefer.”

Noah hates the idea of the FBI in his house. “No, we can do it here. Stiles practically grew up here, so it won’t be uncomfortable for him.”

He hopes, at least.

~~~~~

If Derek thought it would make a difference, he would register his protest at the idea of Scott coming over to deliver Stiles’ homework. Maybe there isn’t anyone else who could or would; Derek recognizes a bit of himself in Stiles.

Stiles is a person who cares deeply about those he’s deemed important to him, and not much about anyone else.

He’s ruthless, the way a wolf can be ruthless, and Derek understands that.

But Stiles has also been seriously injured by Allison and her family, and he won’t soon forget that.

He resolves to stick close to Stiles while Scott is there, and to send Scott packing if he upsets Stiles too much.

The doorbell rings, and Stiles goes to open the door. Derek is in the kitchen, reading a book he brought with him from New York, and keeping a sharp ear out.

“Hey, Scott,” Stiles says. “Thanks for bringing my assignments.”

“You have to tell them that you were wrong,” Scott says without preamble. “Allison didn’t hurt you.”

Derek can hear Stiles’ sharp intake of breath from the kitchen. “I told them the truth, and I didn’t tell anyone that Allison hurt me. I told them that she was there while Kate did.”

“Exactly,” Scott says triumphantly. “Allison didn’t do anything wrong!”

“I think that’s for the courts to decide, Scotty,” Stiles says, and Derek can tell that he’s trying to keep things light, friendly, but there’s a thread of tension in his voice, and in his heartbeat.

“No, you don’t understand,” Scott says. “They arrested her, Stiles!”

“Because she was the one driving the car, and the one who suggested we ride together, and she was there when Kate tortured me and she didn’t do anything to stop it,” Stiles argues. “Look, I’m not saying she held the taser or flipped the switch to electrocute me, but I begged her to go to my dad, and—“

“So, she was scared of her aunt,” Scott argues.

There’s a pause. “Did you talk to her?”

“No,” Scott says. “But why should that matter?”

“Has Allison ever said that she’s afraid of her aunt?” Stiles asks.

There’s another pause. “No, she said they were more like sisters.”

“What basis do you have for deciding that Allison was scared of her then?” Stiles asks.

“Because Allison would never hurt anyone!” Scott yells.

“And I never said that she did, just that she was there, and that she didn’t do anything to stop it,” Stiles replies. “Are you doubting me?”

“I just think you maybe misread the situation,” Scott says defensively. “And I think you should tell them that Allison wasn’t involved.”

Derek hears Stiles’ heart skip a beat, and then speed up. It’s far too fast, and he strides out of the kitchen. Scott and Stiles are still standing by the front door, and Derek holds out a hand. “Stiles’ assignments.”

Scott glares at him. “What are you doing here?”

“In case you’re unaware, Stiles was kidnapped,” Derek says. “By the Argents. And Peter might come after him. Assignments. Now.”

Scott hands him a folder.

“Great,” Derek says insincerely. “You can leave now.”

“We weren’t done!” Scott protests.

“You’re done,” Derek says forbiddingly. “Stiles is still recovering from being electrocuted. You should leave before I make you leave.”

Scott lifts his chin. “Like you could.”

“Scott, please,” Stiles manages to say. “I’m not going to change my story to suit you or get your girlfriend off the hook.”

Scott makes a sound that’s pure frustration and flashes fang, and then he storms out.

Once he’s gone, Stiles seems to give in to the incipient panic attack, his breath coming in great, whooping gasps, his heartbeat jackhammer-fast.

Derek has no idea what to do for him, so he locks the door behind Scott and asks, “Do you want me to call your dad?”

Stiles shakes his head frantically.

“Okay,” Derek says slowly, and then he grabs Stiles’ shoulder and steers him to the couch, pushing Stiles head down between his knees. “Slow down.”

He shakes his head, and his breaths don’t slow, just speed up.

Derek tries to think about what his mom might have done when a member of the pack is struggling like this, and he realizes that she would have used physical contact.

Physical contact in a pack is a given, and Derek is touch-starved himself, so he drags Stiles into a hug.

Stiles struggles at first. “What? No,” Stiles says, struggling briefly. “I don’t—what are you doing?”

“It’s called a hug, Stiles,” Derek says dryly, and realizes that the shock of it has shaken off Stiles’ panic.

“Oh, my god, you’re ridiculous,” Stiles mutters against his chest, but his breathing starts to even out. “You don’t have to protect me from Scott, you know.”

“I wasn’t,” Derek replies. “Your heart just had a shock. You didn’t need that bullshit on top of it. Besides, your dad asked me to look out for you.”

“My dad is awesome,” Stiles mutters, and Derek can feel the tension leaving his frame as his breathing evens out. Derek would be shocked if that little episode hadn’t left Stiles completely wrung out.

“You are correct, at least in that respect,” Derek says. “Are you going to sleep?”

He regrets the question when Stiles immediately starts to struggle to sit up. “Sorry, sorry, that was stupid.”

“Shut up, Stiles,” Derek growls, and pulls him back down. “You didn’t sleep much in the hospital.”

“Worst place to sleep,” Stiles grumbles and relaxes. “This isn’t weird, is it?”

“We’re pack,” Derek says. “There were times when the entire pack would sleep in a giant pile, especially if someone got hurt. You were hurt. Does this help?”

“You put off heat like a furnace,” Stiles mutters. “Feels good. My heart doesn’t hurt so much anymore.”

“That’s good,” Derek replies, running a hand up and down Stiles’ back.

Stiles just burrows in, and there’s something in Derek’s chest that loosens at that. He and Laura had cuddled after the fire, of course, but that had been different. Laura was his sister, as well as his pack-mate, and Derek hasn’t felt pack bonds since Laura’s death.

But the bond between him and Stiles is strong, as is the bond between him and the sheriff.

“Stiles?” Derek says softly.

Stiles makes a sound that indicates he’s still awake, but won’t be for much longer.

“Are we pack?”

“Sure,” Stiles says easily, his voice beginning to fade. “Pretty sure my dad’s adopted you. It’s a small family, and it’s broken, but it’s still good.”

It sounds like Stiles is quoting something, and Derek asks, “Where’s that from?”

“Lilo and Stitch,” Stiles says, rousing a bit. “How do you not know that?”

“Is it a movie?” Derek asks, feigning interest. He’s pretty sure he’s seen it with one of his younger siblings, but it had been just the one time.

Sitles’ eye roll is epic. “Oh, my god, we’re remedying that as soon as possible.” He pauses. “Is it because we’re pack that this feels good?”

“Yeah, Stiles,” Derek says. “It’s because we’re pack.”

Derek thinks there might be more to it than that, namely that Stiles had decided that he’s in this, and is therefore a part of this, and his magic has shaped the bond, tying them all together in a web.

He wonders if Scott knows, and if he’ll be able to break free of the web, or if Stiles will break the bonds, if given a reason.

~~~~~

Noah lets himself into the house, and is a little surprised to see Stiles napping on Derek’s chest.

He raises his eyebrows, but Derek just hitches a shoulder, and then gently shifts Stiles so he can extricate himself. “So warm,” Stiles mutters.

Noah runs a hand over Stiles’ head, which wakes him. “Dad?”

“Yeah, kiddo,” he replies. “We have a meeting with the FBI tomorrow at the station. That okay?”

Stiles blinks. “Are they nice?”

“Very nice, and very impressed by your resourcefulness,” Noah replies. “They want to interview you and Derek tomorrow, but I can be present for yours.”

“‘kay,” Stiles says. “I should probably do homework.”

“Sleep,” Noah replies. “You didn’t sleep well in the hospital, and you’re still recovering. Want to tell me why you were plastered all over Derek?”

“He’s warm, and he stopped my panic attack,” Stiles mumbles, already drifting back into sleep. “I think we should keep him.”

“Number one on the priority list,” Noah replies with a laugh.

Derek gives him an apologetic look when Noah enters the kitchen. “Sorry, I know I said I’d cook.”

“I’d prefer you take care of my kid, which you did, and I said we could order takeout,” Noah replies. “Want to tell me what happened with Scott?”

“He was pressuring Stiles to change his story and say that Allison wasn’t involved,” Derek replies. “Stiles held his ground.”

“Not that he doesn’t have a reason, but Stiles can hold a grudge like none other,” Noah comments. “He might have protected Scott, but Allison isn’t within his trusted sphere.”

Derek nods slowly. “Yeah, well, Stiles had a panic attack.”

Noah isn’t surprised by that, given recent events. “He used to get them a lot after Claudia died, but he hasn’t had one in a while as far as I know.”

“Nothing like dealing with Kate Argent to trigger panic attacks,” Derek mutters. He takes a deep breath. “What can I expect from the FBI?”

“They’re going to have questions about the fire and Kate Argent,” Noah says. “Especially since they think they’ve tied her to additional crimes in other states.”

Derek frowns. “I’m not sure what that means.”

“It means they’re going to treat Kate Argent as a serial killer,” Noah replies. “And the more honest you can be, and the more you can tell them, the stronger the case.”

Derek scrubs his hands over his face. “I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all you can do,” Noah replies. “Now, about dinner, Chinese sound okay?”

Derek shrugs. “Whatever works.”

Noah knows what Stiles likes, and it turns out that Derek will eat just about anything, so Noah orders enough to feed the three of them for a couple of days. Leftovers will make things easier.

“I put in my transfer application today,” Derek says. “To finish out my degree here.”

“Have you thought more about joining the department?” Noah asks.

Derek nods. “I’m going to do it.”

Noah smiles. “Good, I’m glad. It would be nice to have someone else at the station in the know. And I was thinking today about potentially closing Beacon Hills to hunters, bringing the entire department in, telling them the truth, and getting rid of anyone who won’t toe the line.”

Derek stares at him. “You…you’re talking about creating a sanctuary town.”

“Is that a thing that exists?” Noah asks.

Derek shakes his head. “Rumors only, and I doubt there are any now. But yeah, there were rumors. I heard my mom talking about it once, with my dad, about whether they could do that for Beacon Hills.”

Noah nods. “We’ll have to be careful about how we reveal the information and to who, but it’s something to think about.”

Derek grimaces. “It’s something to build towards.” He pauses, and he says, “There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Shoot,” Noah replies, retrieving a beer from the fridge. “Do you want one?”

Derek shakes his head. “No, thanks. I want you to kill Peter.”

Noah blinks and pops the cap off the bottle. “Can you tell me why?”

“Because whoever does it is going to be the Alpha,” Derek says. “Scott might follow you, jury’s still out on that, but Stiles definitely would, and so would anyone at the station. They wouldn’t follow me.”

Noah knows that Derek is trying to think strategically, to plan ahead, but he’s uncomfortable with the conversation. On the other hand, this is Derek’s uncle that they’re talking about, and he can understand why Derek wouldn’t want to kill him, no matter what Peter had done.

“All right,” Noah finally says. “There might not be a choice, but if there is, I can take that burden.”

“It’s better when the power comes later in life,” Derek adds. “Mom always said that. An Alpha should be established and secure.”

Noah chuckles. “Well, I’m not sure about that, but I do my best.”

“No, you are,” Derek insists. “You have more anchors than just the one.”

Noah nods slowly. “That I can agree with.”

Derek goes back to his book at that point, and Noah spreads out at the dining room table. He has a lot of paperwork to catch up on, including writing his own reports from the incident with Stiles.

Noah should probably disapprove of Stiles’ ability to dissemble, but he can’t, not when Stiles had provided them cover.

“Do you want me to plant a wire at the scene?” Derek suddenly asks as Noah is reading through Dave’s report.

“Something Stiles could have used to pick the locks, you mean?” Noah asks. When Derek nods, he says, “No. It could have just as easily been lost, and it’s hard to say what the evidence will show.”

Noah is a little concerned about that, actually, that someone will take a close look at the cuffs and discover that there are no signs of anyone picking the locks.

Still, there’s nothing they can do about it now, and Noah is just grateful that Stiles had been able to rescue himself. He doesn’t like to think about what might have happened if they’d had to confront the hunters.

Derek just nods, and then Stiles wanders in, scratching his stomach. “Hey, Dad,” Stiles says, still sounding a little bleary. “What are we doing for dinner?”

“Chinese is on the way,” Noah replies. “How are you feeling?”

Stiles holds out a hand and see-saws it. “Eh. I’m still really sore, and I feel kind of weird, but I think better.” He looks at Derek. “Sorry for freaking out on you, dude.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “Don’t call me dude.”

Noah has a feeling that he’s going to be hearing that exchange a lot. Stiles will keep on calling Derek “dude” as long as he can get a rise out of him.

And then Derek follows it up with, “Kate would give any sane person a panic attack.”

Stiles ducks his head. “Yeah, total nightmare fuel. Couldn’t agree more. How much longer before the food gets here?”

The doorbell rings, and Noah stands and reaches for his wallet. “That should be the food now.”

Noah looks through the peephole and sees a teenager with an insulated bag bearing the legend of the Chinese restaurant. He opens the door and hands the kid cash for the tip.

“Thanks, Sheriff,” he says, and then takes off.

Stiles is more subdued during dinner than usual, but Noah feels relief just having Stiles home and safe.

“I’m going to go upstairs,” Stiles says after they put the leftovers away. “‘Night.”

Noah doubts that Stiles is going to bed; he’d bet his next paycheck that Stiles is going to research something, probably magic, but that’s how Stiles deals with things. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Will do, Pops,” Stiles says and gives him a spontaneous hug. “Love you. Thanks for today, Der.”

Noah frowns as Stiles wanders out, clearly preoccupied.

“That doesn’t seem normal,” Derek comments once Stiles is out of earshot.

Noah sighs. “It’s not. Stiles is about to go on a research binge, and it might not be pretty.”

Derek nods, and then he says, “Thank you.”

Noah glances at him. “For what?”

“For—for including me,” Derek says, sounding uncertain. “I don’t know.”

Noah leans back in his seat and gives Derek a long look. “I joined the Army when I was 18, mostly to get away from my dad. The Army gave me a place to belong, and I had people who gave a damn about me, not just my success as a soldier, but me as a person. And then I met Claudia, and she gave me a home. If I didn’t have Stiles when she died, I probably would have lost myself in a bottle.”

He wonders if Derek will understand what he’s not saying—that everyone deserves to have a home and a family, that he can’t give Derek back his family, but he can provide some ballast.

Derek nods, and whether he understands or not, Noah thinks he’ll at least stick around.

Noah works late, long after Derek has gone to sleep on the couch, and Stiles should be in bed, but there’s still a light visible under his door.

He raises his hand to knock, but then changes his mind. Stiles might just need some time, and Noah wants to give that to him.

Still, he sleeps lightly with one ear open, and he’s not at all surprised when he’s woken by his son’s shouts.

Noah is out of bed and in Stiles’ room before he’s fully awake, and Stiles is sitting up, gasping for air and making keening noises between, in the middle of a full-blown panic attack.

“Okay, kiddo,” Noah says, pulling Stiles into a hug. “You’re okay. I need you to take some deep breaths.”

Stiles tries, but he can’t quite manage it. “Can’t breathe.”

“Yes, you can,” Noah says sternly. “You can. Tell me what you were researching tonight.”

Stiles shakes his head.

Noah realizes that he needs to change tacks. “Two times two.”

Stiles just struggles for a breath.

“Two times two, Stiles,” Noah insists.

“Four,” he gasps out.

“Five times nine.”

That takes a little longer, probably because it’s harder to process. “Forty-five.”

“Eight times six.”

Noah keeps going like that, forcing Stiles to focus on something that’s not his racing thoughts. By degrees, Stiles relaxes until he goes limp, his t-shirt damp with sweat and tears.

Noah has no idea how to help him, but he asks, “Do you want to tell me what you found out?”

Stiles shudders. “I don’t know, Dad. It’s hard to say what’s truth and what’s a bunch of BS. I could kind of figure it out with werewolves, because I had one right in front of me.”

Noah holds on to him tightly. “But you have a magic user right in front of you, too.”

Stiles snorts. “I can’t exactly experiment on myself, and everything I found tonight suggests that magic needs ritual, or at least ingredients and maybe an actual spell. A focus.”

“And you just used your imagination,” Noah says.

Stiles hesitates. “Not exactly. I thought about you. You were my focus.”

“Okay, you know I’ll do whatever I can for you,” Noah says. “Even if it means just sitting with you while you try to light a candle with your brain.”

Stiles laughs at that. It’s a weak laugh, but it’s real. “Okay, it’s a deal.”

“Think you can sleep now?” Noah asks.

“Will you stay for a bit?” Stiles asks hesitantly.

Noah tugs Stiles in closer. “Of course, kiddo. I’ll stay as long as you want.”

He can hear Derek’s heartbeat just outside the door, and he knows that Derek is standing guard.

Noah is just fine with that.

~~~~~

Stiles feels a little embarrassed, asking his dad to stay with him until he falls asleep. Not that his dad makes him feel bad about it; he’s just a solid presence as Stiles fights through his panic attack.

He sleeps better after that, though, and when he wakes the next morning, it’s with a remnant of a dream. He can’t quite hold onto it, but it feels important. Stiles knows that it will haunt him for the rest of the day.

His dad is at the stove, scrambling eggs when Stiles stumbles down to the kitchen. “I’ve arranged to have your interview as soon as we can get to the station, with Derek’s right after,” he says. “I didn’t think you’d want to stew over it.”

“I don’t,” Stiles agrees. “Thanks, Dad.”

“If at any point this interview gets to be too much for you, I want you to call it,” his dad says, and he’s stern in a way that Stiles knows he’ll be happy to make war on Stiles’ behalf. “You’re allowed to take a break.”

Stiles bobs his head. “I know. Is there any way you can sit in on Derek’s interview?”

Derek is in the shower, which is the only reason that Stiles is asking now.

“Not without it coming across very strangely,” his dad replies. “And I think it’s best to avoid that. I think the agents will be gentle with him, though. They both seemed decent, and they can do the math.”

“Kate really sucks,” Stiles says.

“You’ll get no argument from me,” his dad replies. “You want to tell me what you dreamed about last night that sent you into a panic attack?”

Stiles takes a deep breath and tries to wrestle back the panic.

“You don’t have to,” his dad quickly says.

“I couldn’t get out of the cuffs,” Stiles admits. “And Kate came back, and she was going to torture me to death. I could see all of it.”

“I’m sorry,” his dad says, sounding helpless.

“It’s not your fault,” Stiles replies. “But that’s not the dream that woke me up. That one involved you chained up and screaming.”

His dad just holds out an arm, and Stiles steps into the hug. He keeps telling himself that it’s just because they’re pack now, and his dad is a wolf, and wolves are tactile. He read that somewhere when he was doing research for Scott.

He wants to believe it, just like he wants to believe that Scott will eventually come around and choose Stiles.

But in the meantime, Stiles is going to figure out how to protect himself, whether that’s with magic or another weapon in his arsenal.

Right after he gets through lying his ass off to the FBI, which is actually a crime.

His dad and Derek drive separately, since Derek is going to be escorting Stiles home once they’re done. Stiles might have been resentful at one point, but he has no desire to get kidnapped again.

“Do you know—have they figured out that I didn’t get the cuffs open through conventional means?” Stiles asks hesitantly.

His dad shakes his head. “Your story is holding for now, but I want you to stick as close to the truth as you can.”

“I will,” Stiles says. “I know lying to the FBI is a crime, but it’s not really a lie, is it? I did pick the locks.”

His dad shakes his head, and Stiles can tell that he’s reluctantly amused. “I never thought I’d be glad that you’re so good at coming up with a story.”

“I didn’t want to lie to you,” Stiles admits. “I just didn’t think I could tell you the truth.”

“I know, son,” his dad replies. “But we’re way past that now.”

Stiles stares out the window as they pull up in front of the station. He’d just been there a couple of days ago, but it feels like a lifetime.

“Come on,” his dad says. “They’re going to record the interview, but I can probably get it set up in my office.”

Stiles shakes his head. “The interview room is fine, Dad. I don’t mind.”

His dad leads the way into the station, and Stiles can feel the eyes of all the personnel on him, including the dispatcher and the two deputies on duty.

“How are you doing, Stiles?” Tara calls.

Stiles manages a smile, in spite of the nerves twisting his stomach into knots. “I’m okay. A little sore, but I’m feeling better today.”

“Well, don’t you worry,” Tara says. “We’ve got everyone out looking for Kate Argent.”

Stiles hesitates. “Um, what about Allison?”

“She’s being arraigned this morning,” Tara replies. “I would expect her to make bail.”

Stiles grimaces, although he supposes that’s what happens when you’re a relatively wealthy white girl with a clean record.

“How’s the restraining order coming?” his dad asks.

Tara smiles. “Judge signed off on it this morning, and I called the school. Until this is cleared up, one way or another, Allison isn’t welcome on school grounds or at any school events.”

Stiles keeps his groan purely internal. That means Allison won’t be going to the Winter Formal, and while Scott is technically banned from going, he wouldn’t have let that stop him.

And he’s going to blame Stiles, most likely.

As though reading his mind, his dad grabs the back of his neck and offers a reassuring squeeze. “Scott can feel however he feels, Stiles, but there are consequences to every action.”

“I know,” Stiles replies.

“The agents are in your office,” Tara offers. “It seemed like the best place to set up, and more comfortable than the interview room.”

Stiles realizes that Tara is just looking out for him, worried about causing further trauma, but he wants to bristle. He’s not fragile.

His dad squeezes his neck again, this time in a warning.

“Thanks, Tara,” Stiles says.

“I would have been fine in the interview room,” Stiles mutters for his dad’s ears only as they walk away.

“You’re my kid,” his dad says. “They’re going to look after you in whatever way seems most reasonable. Be grateful.”

The two agents are standing by the window talking quietly when they enter. Agent Betancourt is tall with curly hair and light brown skin, whereas Agent Marsh is short, shorter than Stiles, but broad, with bright red hair and blue eyes.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Stiles,” Betancourt says. “I’m sorry it has to be under these circumstances.”

Stiles shakes her proffered hand. “I’m guessing you don’t really meet a lot of people in your work under great circumstances.”

“That’s true enough,” Marsh says, shaking his hand. “But I’m glad it wasn’t worse, because it certainly could have been.”

Betancourt sends her partner a quelling look. “That’s enough, Abe.”

“It’s okay,” Stiles says. “I do have some idea what Kate Argent is capable of.”

Betancourt gives him a sharp, searching look. “Why don’t we get started, and then you can get on with the rest of your day?”

Stiles takes the couch, whereas the agents turn the chairs in front of his dad’s desk around so they can face him. The recorder is placed in the center of the small coffee table.

His dad perches on the arm of the couch, and Stiles can kind of understand why. The couch is comfortable, but the cushions tend to swallow a person. Stiles combats that by scooting to the edge.

Agent Betancourt reaches out and starts recording. “This is Supervisory Special Agent Nikki Betancourt with Special Agent Abel Marsh, interviewing Miecyslaw Stilinski.”

Stiles is reluctantly impressed. No one manages to pronounce his name right on the first try. “I go by Stiles,” he says.

Betancourt nods, then rattles off the date and time of the interview. “Now, Stiles, why don’t you start by telling us how you know Allison and Kate Argent.”

“Allison goes to my school, and she was dating my best friend, Scott McCall, until recently,” Stiles says, feeling a little awkward. “And I don’t know Kate Argent at all.”

“How did you come to be in Allison’s car two days ago?” Betancourt asks.

Stiles takes a deep breath, and begins to explain that Allison asked him to go dress shopping with her and Lydia Martin, that Allison wanted to go to a dance with Lydia’s ex-boyfriend, and thought that Stiles could be her date.

The idea sounds stupid now, talking to two FBI agents, knowing that it had been a set up. He feels stupid for believing that Lydia would even condescend to go with him as a friend.

“Anyway, Allison offered to drive, and I didn’t see Kate in the backseat, but when I realized she was heading in the opposite direction of the mall, Kate tased me.”

Betancourt is nodding along, listening intently, but Marsh has a small notebook and a pencil, and he’s jotting things down. Stiles would love to know what he’s writing, but he reins in his curiosity.

Betancourt has him go through everything again, what Kate had said, what she had done, what Allison had said and done. Stiles tries to be as honest and accurate as he can, especially with regard to Kate manipulating Allison into leaving him there.

“What’s this about the school?” Marsh asks when Stiles mentions Kate using that argument on Allison.

So, Stiles has to go back to the night they had been trapped at the high school.

Betancourt is frowning as Stiles explains that someone had lured Allison to the high school, where they’d been terrorized by some kind of animal.

When she glances at his dad, he shrugs. “Near as we can tell, there have been a series of animal attacks, and the trace we found suggests it’s a wolf.”

“I’ve heard of people using animals as weapons,” Marsh offers. “Hell, there was that lawyer here in California who had a poisonous snake put in his mailbox.”

Stiles lets the FBI run with that theory, because it’s probably the closest thing to the truth that they can offer.

“And all the victims of these attacks were somehow tied to the Hale fire?” Betancourt asks, but she’s looking at his dad now.

His dad nods. “That’s right. And Peter Hale is currently missing from the long-term care ward, as is his nurse. We have an APB out for both of them, but so far, nothing.”

Betancourt turns back to Stiles. “What happened next?”

This is the part that Stiles doesn’t like remembering, because remembering puts him back in that same desperate, terrified headspace where he’d somehow used magic as a get-out-of-jail-free card.

Stiles stuffs those feelings as deep as they’ll go, and he answers, knowing that his tone is flat. “They left me there, and I knew if I was still there when Kate came back, she’d kill me. I taught myself how to pick locks when I was ten, and I managed to get a wire loose off the bed frame they chained me to and used that to get free.”

Marsh’s expression is dubious, and Betancourt has a wry look on her face. “When you were ten?”

“I can give you a demonstration, if you want,” Stiles offers.

“I would like,” Marsh says.

Betancourt gives him a dirty look. “Abe…”

“If I could borrow your handcuffs and a paperclip, Dad?” Stiles says.

His dad looks like he wants to argue, but he hands Stiles the cuffs from his belt, and finds a paperclip on his desk.

“If you don’t mind, I don’t really want to put them on,” Stiles says, looking as guileless as possible.

Now Marsh looks guilty. “No, of course not, Stiles.”

Stiles uses one hand and his mouth to open the paperclip, and then quickly picks the lock.

“It was a lot harder when I was in the basement,” Stiles says, “but I was highly motivated at the time.”

Betancourt shakes her head. “I’m impressed.”

“So am I,” Marsh admits. “But why would you teach yourself how to pick locks?”

“I have ADD,” Stiles replies. “It seemed like a good idea. Turns out that I was right.”

Stiles doesn’t know if the magic would have worked for him had he not known the mechanics of picking a lock. Maybe it would have worked in a different way.

From there, it’s easier to talk about, since it was just him sneaking out of the house behind the backs of the two guards left behind and hiding in the woods. Since he’d been unconscious when his dad found him, he can’t really answer any questions about that.

They ask him additional questions, sometimes the same question more than once, and Stiles knows that they’re checking out his story, and seeing if he remembers anything else.

Finally, Betancourt reaches out and stops the recording. “Thank you, Stiles. If you haven’t already considered it, you should think about a career in law enforcement. I think you’d be great at it.”

“Thanks,” Stiles replies, because he isn’t sure what else to say. He actually has considered it.

“Why don’t you stay in here until Derek can drive you home?” his dad suggests. “Did you bring your homework?”

Stiles nods. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

He shakes the agents’ hands again, and then collapses back on the couch, completely drained.

His phone chimes with a text, and he glances at it. Allison got kicked out of school!!!

Stiles wants to offer a snide response, like what Scott thought would happen to someone who was an accessory to kidnapping, but all he says is, sorry

He can’t find it in him to say more.

~~~~~

Derek is beginning to realize that police investigations, if done right, can be tedious. He’s seen a bit of that, reading the reports that the sheriff had gathered on all the victims of the “wild animal attacks,” but now Stiles has just given his second statement, this time to the FBI, and it’s Derek’s turn.

To talk about the things he swore he’d never talk about, no less.

On the other hand, Derek is beginning to come around to the idea of human justice for Kate, because if the hunters can’t pin it on a werewolf, there’s less chance for retribution.

Not zero chance, of course, but less.

Unlike Stiles, who had been interviewed in his dad’s office—and Derek has to admit that with the bruising on his face, Stiles looks painfully young—Derek is led to the interview room.

He sits, trying to maintain an air of calm, because he’s not the one being accused here, even if he does still feel guilty.

Noah handles the introductions, and both agents shake his hand. It’s all very formal, very official.

Noah leaves, but not without an encouraging nod, and Betancourt hesitates before starting the recording. “Sheriff Stilinski seems to have taken you under his wing.”

Derek shifts, because that’s one of those things he can’t really explain, even to himself. “I think once he realized I didn’t kill my sister, he started looking at me differently.”

Her gaze sharpens. “Let’s talk about your sister. How old were you when you left Beacon Hills?”

“Sixteen, I think,” Derek replies. “I don’t—the fire—it’s a little hard to remember.”

“Understandable,” Marsh murmurs. “That was your entire family, wasn’t it?”

“Not Laura,” Derek manages. “Not Uncle Peter, and there were maybe a few cousins we never really saw, but yeah.”

He doesn’t actually know what Laura had done to look for Peter or any other far-flung relatives after the fire, or whether she’d bothered at all. By the time Derek could even speak again, by the time he’d emerged from the fog of grief, he didn’t want to talk about it.

And he wonders how much Laura knew or suspected, and whether she might have wanted to protect him from the shame of his family knowing who betrayed them.

“Okay, and what did you guys do in New York?” Marsh asks in an easy, friendly tone.

Marsh is clearly taking the lead on this interview, and Derek suspects that it’s because they know about him and Kate.

Derek talks about his life in New York with Laura, getting his GED, starting college. They had family money and life insurance policies, all handled through the Hale Trust, so they hadn’t needed to worry about money, at least not for a while.

“What made Laura decide to come back to Beacon Hills?” Marsh asks. “It sounds like you two had a pretty good thing going in New York.”

“I begged her not to go,” Derek admits. “But I think she’d been doing her own digging into the fire, and she saw something in the news that made her think it was the right time to come back.”

He knows now what that had been—the deer with the spiral on its flank—or maybe that had just been the tipping point. Derek wonders if Laura had come across their uncle Peter, thinking that she was regaining family, only to be murdered.

“Did she tell you anything about her investigation?” Marsh asks.

Derek shook his head. “Right before she went missing, she said she had figured some things out, but she didn’t want to talk about it over the phone.”

“Let’s go back to the fire,” Betancourt says, her voice low and sympathetic. “How long before the fire had you met Kate Argent?”

Derek hesitates. “A couple of months. I was—my first girlfriend had died, so I wasn’t in a great place.”

“You would have been, what? Fifteen or sixteen?” Marsh asks.

Derek nods. “That’s right.”

“That means Kate Argent would have been about twenty-four or twenty-five at the time,” Betancourt points out. “How did you meet?”

Derek clears his throat. “I was playing basketball by myself, and she came over and said—she said I looked really good. Things kind of went from there.”

“Derek,” Marsh says gently. “I know this is hard to talk about, but we need to know as many details as possible. Do you think she specifically targeted you?”

“I know she did,” Derek says slowly. “I didn’t realize it at the time, but she was getting information about my family by asking me about myself. She kept showing up where I was—the basketball court, the diner, the library. I was fifteen, and flattered.”

“When did the relationship turn sexual?” Betancourt asks.

Derek looks away, feeling like an idiot. “When I resisted giving her certain pieces of information about my family’s comings and goings. She would kiss me, and I’d give her a little more, but not as much as she wanted. Then when I resisted again, she gave me a blow job. And then, about a week before the fire, she let me fuck her, and I didn’t see her again after that. Her phone was turned off.”

Derek doesn’t say that he’d been devastated at the time, that his hot, older girlfriend had suddenly disappeared on him, especially so soon after losing Paige.

And then the house burned down with most of his family inside, and Derek had known then that Kate had used him. Without the information that Derek passed along, Kate never would have been able to kill as many Hales as she had.

Derek also thinks that there might have been a little more going on than just the fire, though, something the hunters used to keep them inside. He’ll probably never know, though.

He’s a little surprised when the agents don’t press him for additional details or more information on the timeline, but Marsh says, “We can use her actions towards you to demonstrate premeditation, but the statute of limitations for the abuse has run out.”

Derek shrugs. “Nothing you can do about that.”

Marsh does ask him whether they had fought prior to the fire, but although Kate had run hot and cold, they’d never argued.

“Has she done this to others?” Derek asks. “Since the fire, I mean?”

The two agents look at each other, and Betancourt gives a brief nod. Marsh says, “Both before and after, Derek, but she used the same M.O. every time. She targeted a kid she thought would be vulnerable, seduced them, and then used the information she got to target their families. She seemed to take a lot of pleasure in leaving her victim alive. I’m sure the BAU will have a field day figuring her out.”

Derek closes his eyes. “So, if I’d come forward—“

“I’m not going to sugarcoat things, Derek,” Betancourt says. “If you’d come forward immediately after the fire, it might have been different. She might have been stopped sooner, but there were three others before you, and none of them came forward either.”

“That doesn’t do any favors for the people who came after me,” Derek mutters.

“There’s a good chance it still wouldn’t have mattered,” Marsh says. “We’ve counted potentially five families, but four of the five fires were still ruled accidental. If it weren’t for the deaths here, calling the other fires into question as well…”

He trails off, and Betancourt adds, “The dumbest thing Kate Argent did was coming back to Beacon Hills. Every other incident was in a separate jurisdiction, and none of them had been added to ViCAP. Sheriff Stilinski was the first, and another sheriff down in Bexar County, Texas, saw it pop up and it rang a bell for him. That’s how these things go sometimes.”

Derek wonders if there would be a way to set up a ViCAP for supernatural events. Maybe it would have been caught faster that way. He’ll have to ask the sheriff, and maybe Stiles about that.

They ask him a few more questions, about Laura and Peter, and whether he thought Peter could have obtained a wolf or wolf-hybrid that he was using to attack people.

He’d heard them float the theory during Stiles’ interview, and so Derek just says honestly, “I’m not sure, but his nurse seemed very devoted to him.”

He feels wrung out by the time the interview is over, and Noah takes one look at him and tells him to take Stiles home. Stiles takes one look and says, “You need curly fries.”

They go through the drive-through, because neither of them are interested in running into anybody they might know, and they take their food back to the Stilinski house.

“I think it’s going to be soon,” Stiles says suddenly.

“What’s soon?” Derek asks.

“I don’t know, when things are going to go down,” Stiles replies. “Doesn’t it feel as though the other shoe is about to drop?”

Derek shrugs. Right now, he can’t feel much of anything, he’s so worn out.

“Hey, stop blaming yourself for what psychopath Kate did, okay?” Stiles snaps. “It’s not your fault that she’s a raging, bigoted bitch.”

Derek bites a curly fry in two with teeth that are maybe just a little sharper than they need to be.

“Come on,” Stiles cajoles. “She kidnapped a human kid, the son of the sheriff, like she didn’t give a shit about consequences. It was never about you, Derek. It’s always been about her and what she can get away with. That’s how psychopaths operate.”

“I could have stopped her,” Derek mutters.

“How?” Stiles asks, and his tone is reasonable, not accusatory. “Sure, you could have gone to the authorities at the time, but you have a sneaky bitch who’d already left town, a shady arson investigator who already said it was an accident, and three criminals who didn’t see a problem with burning an entire family.”

Derek hates that Stiles is actually making a lot of sense. “I just wish there was some database for the supernatural world,” he mutters. “Maybe if Laura or me could have reported it, others would have been warned.”

Stiles snaps his fingers. “Supernatural ViCAP, I love it. My computer skills need some work, but I’ve found a couple of message boards where I can put out some feelers.”

“Hunters can read those message boards, too, Stiles,” Derek feels compelled to point out.

“I’ll be careful,” Stiles protests. “No real names, no real locations, no identifying characteristics. Trust me, I’ve had enough of being a target for no good reason.”

Derek thinks about that over the course of the afternoon while Stiles does his homework assignments, and he pretends to look for places to live online. Packs have always kept to themselves, unwilling to become targets for hunters. There’s no organization, no banding together, but what if they managed to form alliances?

Or what if they do in the future? Even if it’s not the supernatural form of ViCAP, maybe it’s as simple as a whisper network on the dark web.

Derek just can’t help but think that they need to do things differently.

~~~~~

Noah had watched Derek’s interview, even if he hadn’t been in the room with him and the two agents, and his heart aches. There’s really no other way to put it. He can’t imagine what he would do to a man or woman who preyed on Stiles.

He would like to believe that he wouldn’t take the law into his own hands, but he’s pretty sure no one would ever find the body.

Noah knows that everyone at the station is a little puzzled over his choice to take an interest in Derek, but it’s a no-brainer for him. Derek is one of the people he had been elected to protect, and that’s exactly what he’s going to do.

He doubts that many would look at Derek and see a vulnerable young man, but Noah had seen a hundred kids like him in the Army, tough on the outside but a mass of wounds on the inside.

And there’s a part of Noah that he can feel waking up, coming fully to life after they’d searched for Stiles together, that recognizes Derek as family—or pack, as he might say.

Noah can’t completely explain it, but then there seem to be a lot of things that he can’t explain. Right now, he just has to do his job, and that means protecting the people closest to him, along with the rest of the county.

Once the interviews are over, Noah sends both boys home, and heads for his office. He’s intercepted by Tara, who says, “Chris Argent was here earlier. I told him I’d set up an appointment, since he couldn’t wait around.”

Noah sighs. “What time is he coming in?”

“Around three pm,” Tara replies. “Scott McCall has also been calling, wanting information about Allison Argent’s arrest. I’ve been telling him ‘no comment.’”

Noah nods. “Thanks, Tara. That’s perfect.”

He sits down heavily behind his desk, feeling as though he has a hundred things to do, and having no idea where to start. There have been no sightings of Peter Hale, his nurse, or Kate Argent, which means he has at least two bad guys in the wind, and maybe three. Noah is under no illusions that Stiles is traumatized; he’d had the flat affect of a young soldier who had just come through his first real trial by combat and wasn’t dealing with it yet.

Scott is likely to be a problem, and Noah suspects that Chris Argent is going to try to get him to drop the charges against his daughter, and probably make an argument for not going after his sister, too.

“Do you have a little time, Sheriff?” Betancourt asks, poking her head in.

“Yeah, sure,” Noah replies with a wry smile. “Or, I don’t really have time for half of what’s currently plaguing me, and I’m very appreciative of the way you handled the interviews today.”

Betancourt enters with Marsh not far behind. “Yes, well, I got recruited for this particular position about six months ago. Abe is the expert, so I’m going to let him take over.”

Noah feels a little apprehensive when Marsh pulls a device out of his pocket and turns it on, and then he winces. He has no idea what sound he’s hearing out of it, but it hurts his newly-sensitive ears.

Marsh immediately turns it off. “My apologies, Sheriff. I had no idea. Your control is—impressive.”

Noah sighs, realizing that he’d given himself away without meaning to do so. “It’s still fairly new, or I might have been able to hide my reaction. What does that do?”

“Those with enhanced hearing have a hard time getting through that,” Marsh says. “But there’s another setting when you’re talking to—someone like you. It’s not as effective, since it acts as more of a warning, but it does make things more muffled from about five feet away, so we’ll likely be safe enough.”

Noah just shakes his head as Marsh changes settings on the device, and white noise envelopes the office. “Yeah, that’s better, but I’m still not sure what exactly is going on here.”

“Hunters aren’t the only ones who know about the supernatural,” Marsh says. “There are pockets of us inside the government, including within the FBI. You know how the BAU deals with serial killers?”

Noah nods.

“We deal with the oddities, the things that don’t quite fit, where it’s obvious something extraordinary is going on, but we don’t want to admit to it in an official capacity,” Marsh says.

Noah frowns. “I can guess that’s why you were the ones chosen to come here, but it doesn’t explain why you’re coming clean to me now.”

“It’s widely known in select circles that a number of the Hales were werewolves,” Marsh admits. “Even more widely known that the Argents are an old hunter family that’s been going off the rails. Kidnapping your son is just the latest in a string of stupid things that most hunters wouldn’t have dared to do, even if your kid had been a werewolf, and not a magic user.”

Noah’s immediate reaction is to deny. “He’s not.”

“The definition of a magic user is someone who uses or has used magic,” Marsh replies, sounding almost apologetic. “But he came up with a very clever cover story, and can demonstrate it for the jury if need be.”

Noah slumps back in his chair. “Are there resources I can access for him?”

Marsh nods. “I’ll get you a couple of names. You don’t want to hook him up with the wrong people, and a kid that teaches himself to pick locks at ten might teach himself how to end the world at sixteen.”

Noah shakes his head. “That’s not—Stiles wouldn’t.”

“What if you were in danger, Sheriff?” Betancourt asks gently, having stayed quiet through the explanation.

Noah has to admit that she had a point. For someone he loved, Stiles might just burn the world down, even if it’s an unintended consequence. “So, he needs to learn how to use it wisely and well.”

Marsh nods. “The good news is that most magic users don’t come into their full potential until they’re about eighteen to twenty, and some come to it later. In Stiles’ case, the magic protected him because he needed it.”

Noah breathes a sigh of relief. “Okay, well, I’ll work on that. Anything else?”

“Do you know who the Alpha is?” Marsh asks.

Noah gives him a long look, wondering how much, or even whether, he should trust these people, but then decides to go with his gut. They’d treated him well, and treated his son and Derek with kid gloves. “It’s Peter Hale.”

Betancourt nods. “We figured. Being that injured can drive the sanest werewolf mad.”

“Great,” Noah mutters. “Not that I’m surprised, given all that he’s done, but I don’t like the idea of an insane Alpha running around.”

“No one does, and if the Argents were doing their jobs, they’d have handled it already,” Marsh says bluntly. “Instead, they’re fucking around with those they know aren’t the Alpha.”

Betancourt shoots him a look, probably over his unprofessional language, but Marsh shrugs unapologetically, and Noah agrees with the sentiment.

From what Betancourt has said, the partnership is newer, and it makes sense that they’d still be learning the other’s rhythms.

There’s a sharp knock on the door, and Tara sticks her head in. “Sheriff, just wanted to let you know that they found the nurse’s car in a parking garage off Grove Street. Her body was in the trunk.”

“This is something we can help with,” Betancourt offers. “The FBI can assist with evidence processing, as well as ERT if necessary.”

Noah hasn’t had a need to call in the FBI before, and he knows they can be incredibly helpful, especially to smaller departments like his that just don’t have the resources. It’s why he called in the state police, but with Kate Argent crossing state lines to commit her murders, they need the multi-jurisdictional power that the feds can bring to the table.

“That would be helpful,” Noah admits. “We don’t have the resources, and I’m not inclined to trust the state police, not after recent events.”

“The DOJ has already started an investigation,” Betancourt says. “The governor was not pleased, and there’s probably going to be federal charges leveled.”

Noah sighs. “Violating Stiles’ civil rights by aiding and abetting a serial killer? Lovely.”

Marsh stands up. “Pretty much.”

Betancourt nods and does the same. “We’ll be in touch, Sheriff, but once we’ve got the evidence, we’ll probably head back to San Francisco so we can send it to the FBI lab.”

Noah smiles. “It was nice to meet both of you. I appreciate your help, and your professionalism in dealing with all of this.”

It’s pleasant, and Noah knows that Stiles is probably going to grill him at home, wanting to know what the FBI has to offer, and how everything had gone. It certainly doesn’t work like in the movies or television.

He has just enough time for a cup of coffee and a bag of pretzels from the vending machine before Tara alerts him to the presence of Chris Argent and his wife before showing them back.

Noah maintains his demeanor with the practice born of long experience. He never would have been elected sheriff if he couldn’t deal with people like the Argents.

“Have a seat,” he invites. “I’m afraid I only have about an hour before my next appointment.”

Noah finds it best to set expectations right from the start so he has an out, even if he doesn’t actually have another appointment.

He watches the two of them out of the corner of his eye while appearing to clear his desk, as though preparing to give them his full attention. Granted, he was always going to give them his full attention, but he’s found that tends to disarm people.

Chris Argent sits at attention, and he has a pleasant enough expression on his face, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He looks more worried than anything else, though, which makes sense, since it’s his daughter’s ass on the line.

What Noah finds really interesting is that his wife doesn’t say anything, but Chris keeps looking at her out of the corner of his eye, as though checking her reaction or seeking her approval. Unlike her husband, Victoria Argent’s expression and eyes are icy.

“Thank you for seeing us, Sheriff,” Chris says smoothly. “I’m sure you’re busy.”

Noah’s eyebrows go up at that understatement, especially considering that it’s his sister causing the headache. “I am, but I’m always willing to meet with any of my constituents, as long as they make an appointment.”

He’s not above getting a little jibe in.

Chris smiles thinly, probably to acknowledge his earlier appearance without said appointment. “Yes, well, I had just come from the arraignment, and I thought we could clear this up.”

Noah pretends ignorance. “I’m not sure what you mean by that.”

“We were hoping you’d be willing to drop the charges against Allison,” Chris says. “I understand that she was led astray by my sister, but that’s all it was.”

“And I’m sure the prosecutor and judge will take that into consideration in either offering a deal or in sentencing,” Noah replies. “But as for the charges being dropped, I’m afraid that’s out of my hands.”

“It’s your son who’s pressing charges,” Victoria says coolly. “Surely, you have some influence over your own child.”

Noah gives her the sort of look he usually reserves for perps. “But it’s not my son pressing charges,” Noah replies, trying to keep his tone conversational. “It’s the state. That’s why the case against your daughter will be captioned People of California versus Allison Argent. Now, if Stiles were to bring a civil suit against your daughter, then I would have some influence, since I’d be bringing it on his behalf.”

He watches as they obviously regroup, clearly not used to being told no, but also unused to having the law used against them. Really, they should be at the district attorney’s office, arguing for a sweetheart deal as long as Allison agrees to testify against her aunt.

“Then perhaps you’ll agree to drop the restraining order,” Chris says, and Noah can see the tightness around his eyes. “My daughter deserves to be able to go to school.”

“So does my son,” Noah counters. “Without wondering if his classmate is going to set him up again.”

Chris grimaces, and Noah sees him glancing at his wife again. “She wouldn’t do that.”

“Her lack of criminal background and friendship with my son’s best friend would suggest the same, and that’s before she entrapped him,” Noah replies. “No, I’m afraid that the restraining order remains in place until the court case is finalized.”

“Allison will have to be homeschooled then,” Victoria says. “I see you’re going to be unreasonable, Sheriff.”

Noah’s eyes narrow. “Let me tell you what I think is unreasonable. Instead of going over to the DA’s office, or having your daughter’s attorney go and argue on her behalf, and get her the best deal possible, you’re here asking me for things you either know I can’t give you, or that I won’t. If this is some stunt for setting me up to be the villain in this set piece, it won’t work.”

The shock on both their faces is priceless. Clearly, they had no idea that Noah isn’t just some bumbling, backwater sheriff.

“For the record, I don’t have any evidence that you or your daughter are involved in anything your sister has done, beyond kidnapping my son,” Noah says. “At least, I don’t have a really good reason to look into you or the rest of your family right now.”

It’s a veiled threat, and he knows they’ll take it that way, but he doesn’t really care.

“Not that you asked for my advice,” Noah continues, “but I suggest you talk to your lawyer and then go to the DA.”

Chris grimaces. “I don’t think you understand the situation here, Sheriff.”

“No, I probably don’t, since it involves your family dynamics, and I don’t know you well enough,” Noah says pleasantly. “It’s also not my problem. That’s yours. I suggest you figure out who you want to save and go from there.”

The Argents just stare at him, like they could force him to do what they want through the power of their glares alone, but Noah had been honest. He’s not responsible for leveling charges, and he can’t force the DA to drop them. Furthermore, if he tried, he’d probably be investigated for corruption, as would the DA.

Noah doesn’t like to think about what might have happened if they’d managed to grab Derek or Scott. The injuries would have healed in moments, and there would have been no evidence.

If they’d grabbed a human child who had just gone missing, there very well might have been no evidence, at least until the remains were found three counties over ten years later.

Instead, they’d grabbed the sheriff’s son, who happened to have magic.

“I can see we made a mistake coming here,” Victoria says tightly, with a glare at Noah that doesn’t faze him a bit.

“I’ll meet you outside,” Chris says, and her glare turns towards him before she sails out. “Surely, there’s something you can do, Sheriff,” he says, sounding almost desperate.

Noah sees the eyes of a desperate, scared father, and he feels an unwilling sense of sympathy. “Like I said, you’d be better off talking to the DA. I can’t drop the charges, and I won’t withdraw the restraining order. I’d be an irresponsible parent if I did.”

The muscle in Chris’ jaw flexes. “But Allison would need to testify against her aunt. I’m sure you can understand how difficult that would be for her.”

Noah stares at him. “How about this, then? We let Stiles chain Allison up and electrocute her, and then leave her thinking she’ll be killed. And then we can call it even.”

Chris looks abashed. “I am sorry for what your son went through.”

“His name is Stiles,” Noah says fiercely. “Listen, I don’t have anything against your daughter. I have a teenager, so I know that they often think they know best, usually when they’re fucking up the worst.”

Chris nods unhappily. “I would agree.”

“And I get that she’s your only child,” Noah says. “But Stiles is all I have left. Do you understand?”

“I do,” Chris says tightly.

“So, whatever family drama you have going on, you can figure that out on your own time,” Noah says. “It has nothing to do with what the law says, or how I’m charged with enforcing the law.”

Noah hopes that Chris understands that he’s saying he won’t bend the law for hunters, or look the other way.

“I do understand,” Chris replies. “Thank you for your time, Sheriff.”

“Don’t give your sister shelter, Argent,” Noah orders roughly. “You’re going to be tempted, but the feds are involved now. This is a boulder rolling down a hill. Don’t be in the way, and don’t leave your kid in its path.”

Chris gives him a long look. “I think you might know more than you’re saying, Sheriff.”

“Let’s just say the FBI knows a lot, and they were compelled to share that information, given recent events in this town,” Noah replies.

Noah is going with his gut here. By all rights, he shouldn’t have even told Argent that much, but he thinks the rest of the family might be worse. If he gets out of town and gets out of the way, that will remove at least one impediment.

Chris nods tightly. “I think I’ll take your advice, Sheriff, and thank you.”

When he leaves Noah’s office, Noah buries his head in his hands and gives in to his urge to growl. Lowly, quietly, but it releases some of the tension he feels.

“Everything okay, Sheriff?” Tara asks, apparently the designated go-between.

Noah takes a deep breath and makes sure that his wolf is suppressed when he looks up. “Yeah, everything is good.”

“Why the hell are they talking to you?” Tara asks. “They should be talking to their lawyer.”

Noah laughs. “Yeah, well, I get the feeling that they’re very used to going through back channels to get what they want.”

Tara frowns. “Well, they came to the wrong place for that.”

Noah runs a hand through his hair. “Any word from Stiles or Derek?”

Tara shakes her head. “No, but do you want to hear what the results of the arraignment were?”

Noah hasn’t had a chance to read the bulletins yet. “I do, but it would have been nice to know that before the meeting.”

“Honestly, I thought they were here to apologize abjectly for the outrage their spawn perpetrated,” Tara says. “Bond was set at $100,000, and they paid it immediately. Probably why they were here, to make sure they get their money back.”

That makes a lot of sense to Noah. “They have the means to get her out of town, maybe down to Mexico.”

Tara shrugs. “And they don’t have any ties to the community to speak of. Did you get the sense that they were going to rabbit, sir?”

Noah shakes his head. “The exact opposite, actually. I got the sense that they were digging in, and aren’t planning on leaving any time soon.”

Tara frowns. “But why?”

Noah thinks he knows, but he doesn’t much like the answer. “I guess we’ll find out.”

Tara shakes her head. “They do realize that Stiles might be a little shit, but he’s our little shit, right?”

Noah grimaces. “Make sure everyone knows that they’re not to harass the Argents. If they see a moving violation or some other infraction, they are to enforce the law, but I don’t want to muddy the waters.”

Tara smiles. “We already know, Sheriff. But I’ll tell you this for free: if they go even two miles over the speed limit in front of a deputy, they’re getting a ticket.”

Noah can’t really argue with her there.

He wants to go home to check on his kid, but he has too much work to do, so he sends a quick text. All okay?

He doesn’t get a response from Stiles, so he sends the same message to Derek.

Stiles is napping. He was worn out.

Noah chuckles. Thanks, Derek.

When he doesn’t get a response, Noah just shakes his head and laughs.

Noah is expecting the other shoe to drop at any moment, but for right now, Stiles is safe, and that’s all that matters.

~~~~~

After curly fries, Stiles manages to finish his homework, but he’s drooping, and he knows it. For some reason, he just can’t shake his exhaustion, and Derek sees it.

“You should sleep,” he says abruptly.

Stiles has been working at his desk in his bedroom, while Derek reads a book on his bed. It’s weird, but comforting at the same time. He doesn’t know when Derek had come to feel safe to him, but probably around the same time that his dad had decided that he was going to take charge.

He wants to chafe at that, but it’s also a relief. He thinks Derek might feel the same.

Stiles shakes his head. “I want to be awake when Scott delivers my homework.”

“I’ll accept it on your behalf,” Derek replies. “But you’re still recovering. You should take the time.”

Stiles wants to protest, but he knows that if he doesn’t take a nap, he’s going to fall asleep at his desk.

Derek gets off the bed, and then he rubs the top of Stiles’ head, the way his dad does, and Stiles feels a buzzing in his stomach that he can’t quantify. He doesn’t want to think about it, so he just sprawls out on his stomach, and is out like a light.

Stiles isn’t sure how long he sleeps before the dream begins, but he’s in a dark, cavernous room with a few bright lights trained on a large cage. Scott’s wrists are chained to the bars, as are his ankles, and there’s a thick dog collar around his neck that’s leashed to one of the joints, holding him mostly stationary.

Kate strolls up to him and hits him in the stomach with a cattle prod, and Scott howls and thrashes, his face transforming.

Stiles wakes with a gasp, his heart thundering in his chest, and he hears corresponding footsteps thundering up the stairs. “Stiles?” Derek says, bursting into his room.

Stiles tries to catch his breath, feeling a panic attack build, but he can’t afford that right now. “Did Scott come by? What time is it?”

“It’s almost five,” Derek says, and rests his hand on Stiles’ chest, over his heart. “Take a deep breath.”

“But Scott—“

“Scott isn’t going to be served by you having a panic attack,” Derek replies. “Take a deep breath, and regroup.”

Stiles wants to protest, but his breath is coming in short gasps, and he can’t quite get the words out.

“Stiles, you need to calm down,” Derek says. “I understand that’s easier said than done, but if you want to help Scott, you have to be able to tell me or your dad what’s wrong.”

Stiles knows that he’s right, and he tries to modulate his breathing, tries to get his panic under control, and slowly manages it. “Did Scott drop my homework by?”

Derek shakes his head. “No, he didn’t show. I didn’t mind, because it let you sleep.”

Stiles scrubs his hands over his face. “You don’t understand. If Scott wasn’t coming here, where would he go?”

“I have no idea,’ Derek replies. “Does it matter?”

“He’s obsessed with Allison,” Stiles says, working through his tangled thoughts. “She wouldn’t have been at school. She would have been arraigned today, and she’s banned from school grounds. Scott would try to go to her house, right after school let out.”

He can see as the understanding dawns on Derek’s face. “But you don’t think that Scott would—“ He stops. “Fuck. He definitely would.”

“I can track his phone,” Stiles says. “I know his account information. His mom won’t be looking for him, because she works nights. There’s a chance that Kate kept Scott’s phone, or at least left it with him.”

“Do it,” Derek says. “If you’re wrong, you can call Scott and yell at him for making you worry.”

Stiles rolls his eyes, even as he sits down in front of his computer and logs into Scott’s cell phone account.

“Wait, his username and password are both Allison?” Derek asks incredulously as Stiles types it in.

Stiles snorts. “Right? Okay, Scott’s phone is located on the east side of town, which is an area with a lot of abandoned warehouses. There’s no reason for him to be there.”

“Except that Kate doesn’t have access to the Hale house anymore,” Derek points out, scowling. “She’d need privacy, and she can get that there.”

Stiles knows that, but his worry for Scott is overwhelming his ability to think at the moment. “We have to find him.”

“We should call your dad,” Derek says decisively.

Stiles shakes his head. “What if I’m wrong? We could be leading him on a wild goose chase.”

Derek frowns at him. “I don’t think he’d mind.”

“I know, but maybe we should just go and check it out first, make sure that it’s not Scott getting freaky with Allison,” Stiles frets.

Derek nods, but he doesn’t look happy about it. “We can check it out, but if there are signs of hunters, we call Noah.”

Stiles can agree to that. “Your car or mine?”

“Mine,” Derek replies. “We can go in the back way, and I’ll park a couple of blocks away to be safe.”

Stiles nods. “Okay, we’ll play it your way.”

Derek takes an indirect route to the warehouse, clearly trying to avoid being seen by any hunters that might be out and looking for them.

Stiles is still incredibly sore from his own bout with torture, but he’s feeling better than he was. He follows Derek down an alley, making a circuitous path toward the warehouse where Scott’s phone had been located.

All of a sudden, a howl rings out, loud and anguished. Stiles freezes, and Derek reaches back and grabs his wrist.

“That was Scott,” Stiles hisses.

“I know,” Derek replies. “And that howl is going to call the Alpha here. We have to call Noah.”

Stiles knows Derek is right. “Dad is going to bring backup, and it’s going to be really hard to explain werewolves to them.”

“Let your dad figure that out,” Derek replies fiercely. “He’s not stupid.”

Stiles rubs his eyes. “Derek…”

Derek pulls out his phone. “Let me take care of it, then.”

Stiles fidgets unhappily, hating to see his dad be put into the line of fire, but knowing that he doesn’t have another choice. Derek is right, they have to call his dad, but he doesn’t like it.

Derek keeps his voice low as he speaks, his tone urgent. “We think Kate Argent has Scott in a warehouse. We heard his howls, and the Alpha will likely respond.”

Stiles can’t hear his dad’s response, but Derek says, “If we can get Scott out without alerting anyone, I think that might be for the best. We can’t risk the department finding out.”

Another howl echoes, and Derek says, “I don’t think we can wait, Noah. Bringing the Alpha and Kate Argent together is going to be explosive.”

There’s another pause, and Derek says, “Okay. Okay. Got it.”

“Well?” Stiles demands, although he keeps his voice to a whisper.

“Your dad’s going to come alone first,” Derek replies in a whisper. “Then call for backup when he hears the howls. By then, it should all be over.”

Another howl rends the night air. “We’re not leaving Scott in there to suffer,” Stiles hisses. “I don’t care how much of a dumbass he is, he’s my best friend.”

Derek hesitates. “If you get yourself killed, your dad is going to kill me.”

Stiles sets his jaw. “I’ve survived the Alpha and the hunters at this point. I can handle myself.”

Derek actually growls. “I’ll draw her attention, you work on freeing Scott. And I’m doing this against my better judgment.”

“So noted,” Stiles replies. “If it makes you feel any better, Dad’s probably going to ground me for the rest of my life.”

“Strangely enough, it does,” Derek mutters.

They approach the warehouse from the back, and there are two hunters stationed outside the door, semiautomatic rifles at the ready.

Stiles glances at Derek, then picks up a can from the ground, making a throwing motion.

Derek’s eyes narrow, and then he nods. Stiles throws the can, and it hits a dumpster about twenty feet away from their position.

The noise draws the hunters’ attention, and they both raise their weapons. One of them jerks his chin, and the other hunter heads in the direction of the noise.

Derek moves swiftly to take down the hunter left by the door with a chokehold, then drags him off. The other hunter finishes looking around and turns to see the post vacated, and he just looks confused, right before Derek punches him in the throat to silence him and then knocks him out with a blow to the head.

Stiles has to admire his efficiency.

There’s another howl, and Stiles winces, wondering how long they have before the Alpha and his dad arrive. He guesses not long.

Which means they don’t have much time to get Scott out.

Derek meets Stiles at the door and hisses. “Remember, let me draw her attention.”

“Are you sure you’re up for it?” Stiles asks.

Derek growls, “I’ll be fine, Stiles. I’m not fragile.”

“You don’t have to be fragile to not be okay,” Stiles counters.

“Stiles.”

“Okay, okay,” Stiles says. “You go first, I’ll follow.”

Stiles gives Derek a count to twenty, and then he heads inside, moving as quietly as he can. He hears Kate’s voice say, “You see, Allison? They’re nothing but animals.”

There’s another howl, and Allison says, “Stop! If he’s such a monster, then why don’t you just kill him?”

Stiles can hear the tremble in her voice, though, and when he peers around the corner, he gets a good view of her face. Her lower lip is trembling, and her expression belies her brave words.

She’s clearly realizing that her aunt is more into the torture than protecting people, and she’s doing what she can to stop Kate.

“Because Kate doesn’t want to kill him quickly.” The voice floats out of the darkness, and it doesn’t belong to Derek. “And she’d rather you do it.”

Stiles freezes as a man strolls into the light, and he realizes that this has to be Peter Hale, the Alpha.

It looks like Derek isn’t going to be the distraction after all.

“Who are you?” Kate demands.

Peter’s face changes, shifting rapidly between a nightmare werewolf, so different from Scott and Derek’s beta forms, and his human face. Then Peter seems to shake it off, and he’s back to looking human.

He’s handsome, and Stiles thinks that if he weren’t a psychopath bent on killing everyone involved in his family’s murder, he might even be charming.

“I’m hurt that you don’t remember me,” Peter says with a fake pout. “After all, you nearly killed me, too.”

With Kate’s attention focused on Peter, Stiles sneaks through the shadows to Scott’s side. “I’m getting you out of here, Scott,” he whispers.

“No, Stiles, get out of here,” Scott whispers back furiously. “She’ll kill you.”

There’s a snarl, and Derek attacks Peter from the shadows.

Suddenly, Allison is next to Stiles, her expression resolute. “Kate has the keys.”

Stiles curses. “I don’t—do you have a bobby pin?”

Allison’s hair is pulled up and back, and she does, indeed, have a bobby pin in her hair. She has two, and Stiles makes quick work of one manacle only to have Allison jerked away by Kate. Then Kate tries to backhand Stiles across the face with the butt of the gun.

Stiles throws himself back, knowing that if she manages to knock him out, he’s probably not going to survive the encounter.

He can still hear Derek and Peter fighting in the background, and time seems to slow as Stiles’ racing thoughts crystalize.

The Alpha has to be stopped, and Kate has to go to jail. If she dies, the hunters will probably end up blaming werewolves, and that’s just going to compound the problem.

Stiles doesn’t know where his dad is, but he doesn’t think it will be long before he shows up.

He watches as Kate raises her gun, and Stiles keeps low to the ground as he springs, head-butting her in the stomach. It hurts his neck, and he hears the clatter of the gun hitting the concrete floor.

Stiles hears another snarl, this time from Scott as he tries to get loose. Allison dives for the gun, but Kate gets there first, grabbing her by the hair.

“You’re too much like your father,” Kate screams. “Weak!”

That leaves Stiles open to go for the gun while Kate is distracted by Allison, and he scoops it up.

Stiles has a great shot at Kate, and he brings the weapon up and squeezes off a round. The bullet hits her in the shoulder and spins her around.

“Derek!” Stiles shouts. “Out of the way!”

Derek manages to get free and throw himself to the side, and Stiles aims for center mass.

He isn’t a crack shot by any means, but starting when he was thirteen, his dad had taken him to the firing range a few times per year. His dad believed that if Stiles was going to be living in a house where there were guns, he was going to learn how to use and respect them.

And at this range, Stiles doesn’t need to be a crack shot; he just has to hit Peter somewhere in the torso.

Stiles is willing to bet that Kate has loaded the gun with wolfsbane bullets, and he vaguely hears someone shout, “Stiles! No!”

He’s too focused to pay attention to the shout, though, and he squeezes off three shots in short succession.

Peter howls, clutching his stomach and beginning to shift rapidly between his human face and that of a werewolf.

“Stiles!” His dad comes running up to him. “Give me the gun, son.”

Stiles willingly hands it over. Kate is struggling to sit up, but Allison has found a pipe from somewhere, and she’s standing over her aunt in a threatening manner.

“Are you okay?” his dad asks urgently.

Stiles nods. “I’m okay. I’m sorry I had to shoot them.”

“You did what you had to do,” his dad assures him. “You did good, Stiles.”

Sirens split the air, and Derek calls urgently, “Noah, we have to make a decision.”

Peter is lying on the floor, and black goo is already starting to bubble up from his wounds, and his mouth.

Stiles knows that he’s dying, and he doesn’t need to see that. Instead, he takes the bobby pins and releases the second manacle on Scott’s other wrist.

“Wait!” Scott shouts. “What if it’s true? What if killing the Alpha will cure me?”

His dad looks at Scott. “Do you really want to take the risk that you’ll become the Alpha?”

Scott hesitates, then shakes his head. “No.”

“Are you sure?” his dad asks Derek.

Derek nods. “I’m sure. I could follow you as my Alpha.”

There’s a long pause, and then his dad looks down at Peter, who is slowly dying.

“Should have bitten your son,” Peter manages to gasp. “He’d have made an excellent wolf.”

“I think he’s just fine the way he is,” his dad says, his face changing, claws growing, and then he slashes Peter’s throat.

Peter gurgles, then gasps and dies.

His dad’s eyes flash red, and then he brings himself under control. “Scott, get ahold of yourself! We’re about to have a swarm of sheriff’s deputies!”

Scott’s face is still transformed, but he takes a deep breath and gets himself under control.

His dad strides over to Kate’s prone form and handcuffs her.

“I need medical attention,” Kate snarls. “And my family is going to hear about this. Everyone is going to know that the sheriff of Beacon Hills is a werewolf.”

His dad smiles thinly. “Sure. You tell anyone you’d like. They’ll probably declare you incompetent to stand trial, and you’ll be held in a maximum security mental institution. Either way, though, you’re never getting out.”

Stiles doesn’t think he could love his dad any more than he does at that moment.

~~~~~

Noah had hoped to have a quiet afternoon, followed by a quiet evening, but that hope is belied by Derek’s phone call to inform him that Scott has been taken, and that he and Stiles have tracked him to an abandoned warehouse.

He can hear Scott’s howls in the background, and Noah knows that he’s not going to be able to prevent Derek or Stiles from going in to help Scott.

Noah would like to order Derek not to intervene, to wait for him and backup, but he’s not an idiot. If he brings backup, and Scott is being tortured, someone is going to see him transformed.

And they can’t have that.

“It’s all right, Derek,” Noah says. “I’ll come alone at first, and then call for additional backup.”

“Okay,” Derek says.

“If you can’t avoid going in, I’ll understand,” Noah says. “I can hear the howls, and Stiles won’t be able to wait. I’m probably ten minutes out. All I ask is that you do your best to keep Stiles safe.”

“Okay. Got it,” Derek replies.

“Be careful,” Noah says, then ends the call.

He sits at his desk and just breathes for a few moments, bracing himself for what’s to come. Because no matter how things shake out, Noah knows that it’s going to be different.

After centering himself, he stands up and puts his gun belt on, and goes out to see Tara studiously working on a report.

“Tara, I need a very big favor,” Noah says.

Tara looks up. “Anything for your, sir. You know that.”

“I think Stiles might have gotten himself into a little bit of trouble,” Noah says. “And I’m going to get him out of it, but I think I’m going to need backup. I need you to give me about eight minutes, and then follow me to this address.”

He writes down the address of the warehouse for her, and hands her the note.

She frowns and says, “You know we’d all protect Stiles, right? We’d do whatever we could for you.”

“I know that,” Noah replies. “But I’d like to see how bad it is before I ask people to help. It might be nothing, but it also might be something big.”

Tara nods slowly. “Okay, but if you need us sooner, just holler.”

“I’ll do that,” Noah promises.

Noah speeds, but doesn’t use his lights or sirens, not wanting to alert Kate Argent that he’s coming. A thousand nightmare scenarios go through his head as to what could be happening to his kid right at that moment, but he pushes that aside with some difficulty. He can’t anticipate what’s coming, just react when he gets there.

He can’t let his worry get the better of him; it will just serve to make him sloppy and stupid.

Noah pulls up behind Derek’s Camaro a few blocks away from the warehouse, and mentally commends Derek for his operational awareness.

He’s careful to shut his car door softly, not wanting to make any more noise than he has to. Noah heads for the warehouse, keeping low and moving as quietly as possible.

There are no more howls, so Noah assumes they’d at least managed to intervene.

Noah sees two bodies on his way in, and he stops to check the pulses, relieved to find them both alive.

He heads into the warehouse, and he emerges into the cavernous space just as Stiles raises the gun to fire. Noah shouts, “Stiles, no!” but either Stiles doesn’t hear him or he’s just too caught up in the moment to pay attention.

Noah started taking Stiles to the firing range as a young teenager, knowing that his kid is curious to a fault, and that it would be better if Stiles knows how to handle a gun. Those lessons have clearly paid off, because Stiles puts three shots center-mass into Peter.

He rushes over to his kid. “Stiles, give me the gun.”

Stiles hands it over willingly, almost like it’s going to burn him. “I’m okay. I’m sorry I had to shoot them.”

“You did what you had to do,” Noah assures him. He knows that there isn’t a jury out there who would have a problem with Stiles’ actions. “You did good, Stiles.”

He hears the sirens, and he knows that they’re going to have to get things wrapped up quick. “Noah!” Derek calls. “We have to make a decision.”

Scott objects, but Noah takes care of that quickly. Scott is going to be a good Alpha someday, but that day isn’t today. He doesn’t think that any teenager should be in charge of anything, let alone a pack of wolves.

He doublechecks with Derek, just to make sure that Derek is okay with what Noah is about to do. It’s not just becoming an Alpha, which Noah isn’t entirely sure about, but killing Derek’s uncle, and taking a power that had originally belonged to the Hales.

Hearing Derek say that he’d follow him eases something inside Noah, and he kneels down next to Peter. Black goo is bubbling up from his lips, and in spite of the devastation that he’s caused, Noah feels sorry for him.

Peter had lost his whole family to the hunters, and then had been consumed by revenge, thereby destroying what little family he had left.

Noah can’t say he’d have done differently in Peter’s shoes. Losing Claudia had gutted him, and could have cost him Stiles if he hadn’t gotten his act together.

But at least he has Stiles, and Noah hopes that Stiles will keep him on the straight and narrow, the way he had after Claudia’s death.

“Should have bitten your son,” Peter gasps. “He’d have made an excellent wolf.”

Privately, Noah agrees, but he says truthfully, “I think he’s just fine the way he is.”

He calls forth his wolf, feels his face change and his nails grow long and thick. Noah looks at this as a mercy killing, and so he makes it quick, slashing Peter’s jugular and carotid, causing him to bleed out in moments.

Noah feels the rush of power, and if he’d had more time, he might have stopped to think about it. His backup is now just moments away, though, and he snaps at Scott. “Scott, get ahold of yourself! We’re about to have a swarm of sheriff’s deputies!”

His words do what Scott hasn’t been able to do, and Noah isn’t surprised. He and Mel have been de facto co-parents for years. Scott is used to following Noah’s orders, and he returns to normal.

Allison’s expression is uncertain, but Noah doesn’t have time to deal with her at the moment, not before he slaps cuffs on her aunt.

Kate’s threat doesn’t ring as hollow as Noah pretends it does. The courts won’t listen to her, of course, but other hunters will. Chris Argent might be reasonable, but Kate had to come from somewhere and someone.

That’s a problem for another day, though.

Noah turns to Allison. “What were you doing here?”

Allison hesitates. “Kate texted me. She said she had something important to show me.”

“I’m not going to try to question you,” Noah says. He can’t, because he knows she’s got a lawyer. “But I am going to tell you that you have an opportunity here. I suggest you think about that, and think hard.”

Allison nods mutely, and then his deputies start pouring in. At first, they assume Noah had been the one to do the shooting, but Noah says, “That was Stiles. Tara, I’d take it as a favor if you’d be the one to get his statement.”

Tara nods and puts her arm around Stiles’ shoulders. “Of course, Sheriff. Come on, Stiles. The sooner we get your statement, the sooner we can clear you.”

They don’t have time to get their stories straight, but Noah knows that both Derek and Stiles know the cover story the FBI had come up with due to their own assumptions. He says loudly, “Keep your weapons loose. The wolf Peter Hale was using to attack others turned on him, and it’s probably around here somewhere.”

The mythical wolf will never be found, of course, but that doesn’t matter. It’s a wild animal, and his deputies will assume that Peter held the leash until he didn’t.

Allison’s eyes widen, but he sees her give a faint nod. Scott looks terribly confused for a moment, and then the light dawns. Noah is glad he’s not going to have to be more explicit.

EMTs arrive to cart Kate off to the hospital, still cuffed, and Noah directs one of his deputies, Paul, to take Allison home.

“No questions on the way,” Noah says in an undertone. “She has counsel. Do you understand?”

Paul nods. “Yes, sir.”

“But keep the dash cam rolling, because if she blurts something out, I want to be sure we have it captured, and we have covered our asses,” Noah adds.

Paul had been Army, and Noah still sees that in him from time to time, like right now, when he’s clearly fighting the urge to salute. “Got it, Sheriff.”

“Off you go.” Noah motions Derek over. “It would be best to get you and Scott’s statements tonight, but it’s going to look odd if we don’t get him checked out first. Would you take Scott to the hospital so Melissa can look him over, and then come to the station?”

Derek doesn’t look thrilled by the idea, but he nods reluctantly. “Should I brief him?”

“Make sure he knows what the assumptions are going to be,” Noah replies. “I need to call the FBI agents and fill them in.”

Derek frowns. “Are you okay? You seem to be taking this really well.”

“I’m probably going to fall apart a little bit later,” Noah admits candidly. “But I can’t do it now.”

His blood is singing with power and adrenalin, and Noah remembers feeling this way in the heat of a battle, when he’d wanted to freak out or break down.

Noah is glad for that experience now, no matter how painful it had been at the time, because it had prepared him for this.

Derek nods, and maybe he understands, and maybe he doesn’t, but he jerks his head at Scott. He also takes off his jacket and hands it to the younger man, since his shirt is gone.

Scott shrugs into it with seeming reluctance, and Noah sighs in relief. With the kids taken care of, he starts directing the rest of the deputies in evidence collection. Once he’s sure the scene is secure, and everyone is doing what they need to be doing, Noah heads back to the station.

Tara is questioning Stiles in the interview room, probably because there hadn’t been time to set things up in Noah’s office, and they need to make sure his statement is recorded.

“And you realized something was wrong because Scott hadn’t brought your homework?” Tara asks, and Noah can tell by her tone that this is not the first time she’d asked that question.

Stiles sighs. “That’s right. Also, crazy people running around abducting kids at random to torture them. I figured I could beg pardon if I turned out to be wrong.”

Tara nods. “True. How did you get his username and password?”

Stiles gives her a look. “I’ve watched Scott log in before, but even if I hadn’t, it’s Allison for both. It wouldn’t have taken much to guess it.”

Tara laughs at that. “Okay, fair enough. And Derek was with you when you went looking?”

“Strength in numbers and all that,” Stiles says airily. “And Derek isn’t too bad if you can get past the murder-brows.”

Tara’s lips twitch. “I’ll take your word for it. What happened once you got into the warehouse?”

Stiles drums his fingers on the table. “I already went over this.”

“Go over it again,” Tara says gently. “I know it seems tedious and redundant, but it’s necessary.”

“I know that,” Stiles mutters. “Okay, we heard Scott screaming, so we decided to make entry after Derek called my dad. I distracted the guards, and Derek took them out. He’s also very handy in a fight.”

Tara nods. “Good to know. What next?”

“Derek was going to distract Kate Argent while I tried to free Scott, but then Peter Hale showed up,” Stiles says. “He and Kate exchanged words, and Allison helped me try to free Scott. She provided the bobby pins, and I provided the skills.”

Tara smiles. “Good thing you’re a curious kid.”

“Good thing,” Stiles echoes, although he doesn’t sound certain about that. “Kate spotted us, though, and she grabbed Allison by the hair and tried to backhand me. I stumbled out of the way, head-butted her, and grabbed her gun when she dropped it. I shot her to keep her from going after us again, and then shot Peter when it looked like he was going to kill Derek. And then Peter’s dog or whatever it was, ripped out Peter’s throat. Dad showed up around then.”

Tara nods. “Did you get a good look at the animal?”

“Big,” Stiles replies. “Grayish brown. I don’t know. It all happened so fast.”

Noah quickly shoots a text to Derek, giving him Stiles’ description, although it won’t necessarily be a bad thing for eyewitness accounts to differ. It had been a chaotic scene, and eyewitness testimony can be incredibly unreliable.

“How are you feeling, Stiles?” Tara asks gently. “We probably should have checked you out.”

Stiles shakes his head quickly. “No, I’m fine. I wasn’t hurt.”

“But you were forced to shoot two people,” Tara says. “Anyone would be a little shaken up by that.”

“Is it bad that I”m not?” Stiles asks. “Kate Argent kidnapped and tortured me, and she tried to make Allison do the same thing to Scott because she’s insane. Peter Hale was involved in the deaths of at least five people, and probably would have killed more. Should I feel bad about shooting them when it was the only option?”

Tara shakes her head. “No, of course not, but it would be natural if you did.”

“Well, I don’t,” Stiles says shortly. “I would do it again in a heartbeat to protect Scott.”

To protect the pack, Noah thinks.

Tara nods. “Let me go see if your dad is back yet. Do you want anything?”

Stiles looks at the half-empty bottle of water sitting on the table. “I’m okay.”

“Okay, well, I’ll be right back,” Tara promises.

She comes into the observation room first, and looks relieved. “How much of that did you hear?”

“Enough,” Noah says shortly. He wants to roar, to snarl, but he doesn’t do any of that. “And before you say it, Stiles is going to get all the therapy.”

Noah has no idea if he’ll be able to find someone who can actually help Stiles, since they’d have to know about the supernatural, but maybe Marsh can help with that, too.

Tara nods. “I’m glad to hear that. What about the others?”

“I’ll contact the Argents’ lawyer to bring Allison in for another round of questioning,” Noah says. “Derek took Scott to go get checked out at the hospital, and then they’re coming here.”

Tara gives him a sharp look. “You are planning on hiring the Hale boy, aren’t you?”

Noah laughs. “Is it that obvious?”

“He’s a good kid,” Tara says stoutly. “And I think we could help him. He’s lost a lot, and the station is its own family.”

“It is,” Noah agrees. “Thank you, Tara. I appreciate you taking care of my boy.”

Tara nods. “Of course. I’ll leave you to it.”

That means she’s going to depart the observation room, and Noah is careful to shut down the recording equipment. When he enters the interview room, Stiles immediately stands up and walks into Noah’s arms.

He’s shuddering violently, and Noah knows that everything is beginning to set in. “Okay, kiddo,” Noah murmurs. “It’s okay. We’re going to be fine.”

“The hunters are going to come for you,” Stiles whispers. “They’ll know, and they could, they could—“

He chokes on the words, and Noah kisses the top of Stiles’ head. “I know, but it’s not going to happen.”

“They could assassinate you with a wolfsbane bullet,” Stiles says wetly.

Noah is all too aware of that. “I know. That’s a possibility, but we’re going to make sure it doesn’t happen, okay? How many werewolves do you know who wear kevlar?”

“Can you wear a kevlar helmet?” Stiles counters. “This is what I was afraid of.”

Noah pulls back and looks Stiles in the eye. “I know this has you freaked out, and you’re not wrong to be scared, but will you believe that I am going to take every precaution? That I’m going to treat this like the urban warfare that it is?”

Stiles looks at him, and Noah sees his jaw firm, his chin tilt up. “I can help.”

Noah wants to deny him that, to keep him safe, but Stiles has magic, and there’s the possibility that he can do just that. “Okay, but we talk about it before you go off half-cocked like tonight.”

Stiles nods. “Okay, I promise. I just—I couldn’t let Scott be tortured.”

“I know,” Noah replies, and pulls him close again, breathing in relief.

~~~~~

Scott sits in fidgety silence in the passenger seat of the Camaro, clearly uncomfortable. Derek has no idea if that’s because he’s with Derek, or if there’s another reason for it.

“Do you think they’ll leave town?” Scott finally bursts out.

Derek feels his eyebrows go up, and he wants to snap at Scott, to tell him to stop thinking with his dick. As far as Derek is concerned, the hunters could leave Beacon Hills forever, and that would be just fine.

He manages to keep his response to a growled, “They might.”

“It’s not fair,” Scott protests. “Allison helped me!”

“She didn’t help Stiles,” Derek points out irritably.

That comment has Scott slumping back in his seat. “I know,” he says miserably. “This whole thing isn’t fair.”

Derek bites his tongue to keep from asking Scott if he thinks he’s the only person in the world to ever get a bad break.

“And I know it’s worse for you,” Scott says. “I’m not completely unaware of that.”

Derek snorts. “That’s nice of you to say.”

“I mean it,” Scott says. “I’m sorry about your family, and I’m sorry I tried to blame everything at the school on you.”

Derek takes a deep breath, and then stays silent, because he has no idea how to respond to that.

“If Sheriff Stilinski is the Alpha now, does that mean he’s my Alpha?” Scott asks hesitantly.

Derek turns Scott’s question over in his mind. “Not if you don’t want him to be, but the strength of the wolf is in the pack. A wolf that doesn’t have a pack will turn omega, feral, and that leaves them open to hunters.”

“I guess it wouldn’t be too bad if he’s the Alpha,” Scott muses. “Does that mean you’re going to be in the pack?”

Derek glances at him. “What do you think?”

Scott shrugs. “I don’t know, maybe you’ll go back to New York.”

“There’s nothing left for me in New York,” Derek replies with finality. “I’ll have to find a place here.”

Derek isn’t looking forward to that. He has never lived alone; he’s always lived with pack. He wonders if there’s a way to stay close.

He parks at the hospital and trails Scott inside. He assumes that someone from the sheriff’s office has called ahead, because Melissa McCall meets them in the ER.

“Are you okay?” Melissa asks him. “Deputy Myers called ahead. He said that you were injured?”

Scott quickly shakes his head. “She tied me up and threatened me, but I wasn’t hurt.”

Melissa knows about Scott being a werewolf, so Scott could tell Melissa that he had been electrocuted by Kate. But the evidence wouldn’t support his story, and so it’s for the best just to not admit to any injuries at all.

“Well, let’s get you back to an exam room, and we’ll get you checked out,” Melissa says. “Derek? Did you want to wait here?”

“I’m his ride to the station,” Derek replies. “So, yes.”

“Is that your jacket?” he hears Melissa asks. “And what happened to your shirt?”

“Kate happened,” Scott grumbles. “She’s gross, Mom.”

Derek snorts in agreement, knowing that Scott will hear him, although Melissa won’t.

If Kate wanted to convince people that she wasn’t a serial predator, kidnapping Scott and removing his shirt isn’t going to do her any favors, especially after what happened to Stiles.

The text from the sheriff comes in with Stiles’ description of the “wolf,” and Derek makes a mental note to share the description on the way to the station.

Derek tips his head back and stares at the ceiling. He runs through the events of the evening, still unable to believe how everything had been resolved.

He knows that Peter’s death had been a foregone conclusion, but he really had thought that Kate would wind up dead, too. There’s a part of him that thought it would have been better if Peter had killed Kate.

But at the same time, with Kate going to jail to face human justice, it lessens the chances for the hunters to declare war on the werewolves in Beacon Hills.

Derek sighs, because he realizes that he’ll probably have to testify, but that’s a problem for the future. Who knows if the hunters will even allow Kate to go to trial in the first place?

He tries not to think about that, to focus instead on what his next steps are going to be. Derek is running down a laundry list of things to do when Scott emerges from the examination area, wearing a borrowed blue scrub shirt and carrying Derek’s jacket.

“Thanks,” Scott says quietly.

Derek shrugs into his jacket. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Are we going to the station?” Scott asks.

He nods and leads Scott back to the Camaro. “Yeah, and Stiles gave the description of Peter’s wolf.”

Scott reads the text Noah sent, and nods slowly. “Right. So, we’re going with that story, then?”

“It wraps things up neatly,” Derek replies. “It explains the animal attacks, and the motivation behind it. After Stiles shot Peter, the wolf turned on him, and tore his throat out before running away.”

Scott frowns unhappily. “I’m terrible at lying.”

“Then don’t lie,” Derek replies. “Let everyone infer, and just go along with whatever everyone else is saying. That’s what Stiles did when you accused me of attacking you at the school, isn’t it?”

“That’s kind of my point,” Scott protests. “The sheriff figured it out pretty quick.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “And this time, Noah knows exactly what happened and is going to support the story.”

Scott slumps against the window. “Allison isn’t answering her phone.”

“Allison is probably busy giving her statement,” Derek replies. “And if she’s smart, she’s not going to talk to you, because she could be accused of tampering with a witness.”

“This sucks so fucking much,” Scott mumbles, and Derek ignores him.

When they get to the station, Allison is leaving with her father, his arm around her shoulders.

“Allison!” Scott calls.

Allison glances at him, but she shakes her head. “I can’t tonight, Scott.”

“If you want to talk to Allison, you can go through her lawyer,” Chris Argent says fiercely.

Scott pulls back, a wounded expression on his face.

“Come on,” Derek says quietly.

Scott heads into the station, his shoulders slumped. Noah is sitting on the edge of a desk, talking to one of his deputies, and he motions to Scott immediately. “This way, Scott,” Noah says. “You’ll be talking to Deputy Myers.”

“Where’s Stiles?” Scott asks. “Is he okay?”

“He’s asleep in my office,” Noah replies. “You can talk to him once you’re done. You didn’t talk to Derek, did you?”

Scott frowns. “About what?”

“About what happened tonight,” Noah replies.

Scott shakes his head. “He just said that he didn’t think Allison would talk to me, and her dad just told me I had to go through their lawyer.”

“That’s for the best, Scott,” Noah says gently. “I think she’s likely to flip on her aunt, and if she talks to you about what’s going on, she risks her plea deal.”

Scott looks heartbroken. “But I can’t even explain what happened!”

“You’ll have plenty of time for that once the dust has settled,” Noah says, not unkindly. “Come on. The sooner you get through this, the sooner you can get some sleep.”

Derek is going to join Stiles, but Deputy Graeme calls him over. “I know you were with Stiles, and we already got his statement. I just need to clear up a few points with you.”

Derek sighs, but he follows her over to one of the desks as she pulls out a notepad.

The questions are routine, though, and Derek finds himself paying attention to how she’s asking the questions. He can tell that Graeme is mostly just confirming the salient points of Stiles’ statement, to see if he says anything radically different.

When he doesn’t, she releases him. “Noah was hoping you’d take Stiles home if you finished before Scott did.”

“Scott said he wanted to talk to Stiles,” Derek says, not objecting to taking Stiles home, but more out of curiosity.

Graeme shakes her head. “Scott’s not going to be done for hours yet, and Stiles was pretty wrung out at the end of his interview. It’s been a rough few days for him.”

Derek can’t disagree with that. “Yeah, okay, I’ll take him home.”

He’s beginning to feel more comfortable around the station, and most of the deputies know him by sight and wave or nod as he walks by them.

Derek returns their greetings quietly, and finds Stiles sleeping fitfully on the couch in the sheriff’s office. When he whimpers, Derek kneels next to him and rests a hand on Stiles’ shoulder.

Stiles sits straight up, his eyes wide, his mouth open in a silent scream.

“Stiles?” Derek says. “Do you need me to get your dad?”

Stiles takes in a great whooping breath, and Derek can hear the thundering of his heart. Stiles shakes his head, but his breaths are ragged, and Derek knows that this panic attack isn’t going to be averted.

Derek grips the back of Stiles’ neck and pushes his head between his knees. There’s a mantra that his mom had used, but Derek doesn’t think it will work for Stiles.

There’s what he’d told Scott earlier, though.

“The strength of the pack is the wolf,” Derek says. “And the strength of the wolf is the pack.”

Stiles is still trying to catch his breath, and Derek says fiercely, “Say it, Stiles. Say it with me. The strength of the pack is the wolf, and the strength of the wolf is the pack.”

Stiles finally begins to say it along with Derek, and his breathing begins to slow, his heartbeat goes back to normal. Stiles raises his head as he says it for the final time, and his eyes glow beta gold.

Derek swallows. “Stiles?”

“What?” Stiles says self-consciously. “Is everything okay?”

“I should be asking you that,” Derek says slowly. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I can feel it,” Stiles replies. “I feel the strength of the pack.”

Derek can, too. He feels the tie to Stiles, to Noah, even to Scott. That’s not—well, it’s not exactly normal, but he doesn’t think it’s a bad thing either.

“Good,” Derek finally says. “That’s the point. You ready to go home?”

Stiles shakes his head. “I want to wait for Scott. Is he still here?”

“He’s giving his statement,” Derek replies. “Noah said he wanted me to take you home. Scott could be a while yet.”

Derek doesn’t like the idea of going against his Alpha’s direct order. “Let’s check with your dad first, okay?” Derek says.

Stiles makes a face. “If Dad gives me a direct order, am I going to be able to go against that?”

Derek shrugs. “Unknown, but it’s going to feel a whole lot worse than what it does now.”

Stiles lets out a deep, audible breath. “Okay, let’s check with him.”

To no one’s surprise, Noah insists that Stiles go home. “You can see Scott tomorrow,” he says. “You need sleep in a real bed, Stiles, and don’t think I didn’t hear you earlier.”

Stiles shrugs uncomfortably. “I’ll get over it.”

“You might,” Noah replies. “But I’m going to work on finding a magic teacher and a therapist, okay?”

Stiles nods. “I need both.”

“I’m glad you realize that,” Noah replies, and he gives Derek a look. “I’m going to strongly suggest you consider the idea, too.”

Derek knows that he’s not talking about a magic teacher at this point. “I’ll think about it.”

Noah nods. “Good. I’ll see you at home.”

Stiles trudges out of the station and slumps in the passenger seat. “Am I a freak?” Stiles asks. “Because the way you were looking at me earlier says I might be.”

“Your eyes glowed for a second,” Derek replies. “Golden, like a beta.”

Stiles frowns. “Yours are blue, but Scott’s are golden. Is it a rank thing?”

Derek hesitates, and then says, “A werewolf’s eyes will turn blue if they’ve taken the life of an innocent.”

“Oh,” Stiles says faintly.

“She was suffering from bite rejection,” Derek says, feeling the words being pulled from him slowly. “She was dying and in pain; I hastened the inevitable.”

Stiles gives him a look. “Then you did what you had to do. Just like I did.”

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

And that easy absolution from someone who had just done a really hard thing helps more than he’d like to admit.

~~~~~

Stiles isn’t sure whether the nightmare he had in the station had worked it out of his system, or if he was just so exhausted that he sleeps without dreaming once he’s in his own bed.

He doesn’t know how late he would have slept if his dad hadn’t knocked on his door a little after noon.

Stiles flails his way out of bed, still sleeping so deeply that the sound shocks him awake. He hits the floor with a thump, and his dad immediately pokes his head inside. “Are you okay?”

He sprawls out on the floor. “Yeah, nothing wounded but my pride, and I’m pretty sure I don’t have a lot of that left.”

His dad chuckles. “Scott is here. He said you weren’t answering his texts.”

“I was asleep!” Stiles protests.

“Which is what I told him, but I also said I would see if you were up,” his dad replies.

Stiles scrubs his hands over his face. “Yeah, I’m up. I’ll be down shortly.”

Stiles hops in the shower quickly to wash off the grit and stink of the previous day, and then pulls on clean jeans and a t-shirt. He isn’t sure where his dad and Derek are, but Scott is pacing the living room. He’s clearly been running his hand through his hair, because it’s wildly disordered.

“Hey,” Stiles says. “Are you okay?”

“Allison won’t talk to me,” Scott says. “Her dad said that I had to go through their lawyer.”

Stiles is way too under-caffeinated for this conversation. “I need a Coke. You want one?”

Scott frowns. “Are you not listening to me?”

“Oh, no, buddy, I heard you,” Stiles replies. “But I just woke up, and I really need the caffeine.”

Scott pouts a little bit, but Stiles isn’t kidding. He needs caffeine and sugar for this conversation. He grabs a Coke from the fridge, guzzles half of it, and then rejoins Scott in the living room, throwing himself on the couch. “Okay, I’m prepared to be fully present now.”

Scott glares at him. “Thank you so much.”

Stiles shrugs unrepentantly. “I haven’t been sleeping, and Dad woke me up.”

Scott slumps in one of the recliners dejectedly. “I’m sorry, dude.”

Stiles waves a hand, ready to be the super supportive friend. “Don’t worry about it. What do you mean, you have to talk to her lawyer?”

“That’s what Mr. Argent said,” Scott says miserably. “If I can’t talk to her, how can I explain what happened?”

“I don’t think you need to explain anything,” Stiles replies. “She now knows you’re a werewolf. I think that cat is out of the bag.”

“But she doesn’t know that I wanted to tell her,” Scott protests. “I wanted to explain why I didn’t say anything.”

Stiles takes another swig of soda. “Allison seems like a very intelligent person, so I’m pretty sure she can figure it out.”

“But she doesn’t know that I wanted to tell her,” Scott says.

Stiles takes a deep breath. “Did you text her?”

“I don’t know if she got them, though!” Scott protests. “She could have blocked me.”

Stiles gives him a serious look. “And if she did, that would be her choice, and you would respect that choice, wouldn’t you?”

“I would,” Scott finally says after an uncomfortably long silence. “But it might be her dad.”

“It might be,” Stiles agrees. “And yet…”

Scott looks gutted. “Your dad said I probably can’t talk to her because she’ll take a plea deal.”

“I think she should,” Stiles says bluntly. “She probably won’t serve any time if she does. You have to think about what’s best for Allison right now, and I’m pretty sure, no matter how much you might hate it, that’s what her dad is doing.”

Scott gives him a betrayed look. “Stiles.”

Stiles shrugs. “Yeah, well, he might suck as a person, but that doesn’t mean he sucks as a dad.”

Scott tips his head back. “I hate this.”

“Blame Kate,” Stiles suggests. “I do. And when this is all over, and we’re past it, you and Allison can get back together.”

“She could meet someone new,” Scott says mournfully.

Stiles knows that he’s probably going to be dealing with a mopey Scott for a while. “So could you.”

Scott shakes his head. “No, man. Allison is it for me, like Lydia is it for you.”

Stiles is beginning to wonder if that’s the case. “Even I don’t think that Lydia is the only person I’ll ever be in love with, Scott. I have way too much love to give.”

“That’s you, though,” Scott says. “You don’t understand. I’m in love with her.”

Stiles figures that quoting Shakespeare is probably out of bounds, so he goes back to Allison. “Do you want Allison to go to prison?” Stiles asks bluntly.

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

“Could you go without seeing her and talking to her, knowing that if you did, she’d avoid prison?” Stiles asks.

Scott makes a face, and Stiles can tell that he’s fighting with himself. “Yes.”

“Okay, so focus on that,” Stiles advises. “Focus on the fact that you’re helping her not go to the slammer.”

Scott gives him a look. “You could drop the charges, you know.”

“No, I can’t,” Stiles says shortly. “It’s gone way too far for that, but take heart—the fact that we caught Kate, and need Allison to testify against her means that Allison will probably get a great deal.”

“But how long is that going to take?” Scott asks.

Stiles could give him the statistics for how long the case would probably take to wind through the courts, but that would just depress him. “That depends on a lot of factors, none of which are under our control.”

Scott’s expression is pure misery. “So, it could be years.”

Stiles hates to be the bearer of bad news, so he says, “We could have a Call of Duty marathon?”

Scott sighs. “Yeah, I guess. We could still go to the Winter Formal tonight.”

“You’re banned, and I’m pretty sure they’d frown on me being there when I’ve been out sick most of the week,” Stiles replies. “There’s always next year.”

Scott sighs. “Fine. But I want pizza tonight.”

“Fair,” Stiles says. “We both deserve pizza.”

Scott grabs the controllers and turns on the TV and the Playstation. He hands one of the controllers to Stiles and plops down next to him.

“I’m really sorry,” Scott blurts out. “I know it might seem like I don’t care that Allison helped her aunt hurt you, but I do. I want to be able to just turn my feelings off, but I can’t.”

“She did the right thing when it came to you,” Stiles offers. “She didn’t have to, and she did.”

“But that’s almost worse,” Scott says. “She’s my—I mean, we were dating, so there are some feelings there, but she didn’t help you, even though you’re my best friend. She just…left you.”

Stiles takes a deep breath, not knowing how much he needed to hear those words until Scott said them. “Thanks,” he says. “That means a lot.”

Scott bumps his shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel good,” Stiles admits. “Very nearly 100%.”

Scott hesitates. “Is it weird to have Derek around so much?”

“Less than you’d think,” Stiles admits. “He’s really good to have around when you’re having a panic attack.”

Scott turns to him. “You haven’t had one of those in years!”

“Yeah, well, turns out that I didn’t grow out of them,” Stiles mutters.

Scott just leans into him. “I really am sorry, Stiles.”

“And I’m sorry that your true love’s family is a raging bunch of dickbags,” Stiles says.

Scott sighs. “Yeah.”

And Stiles hopes for Scott’s sake that Allison breaks the mold.

~~~~~

With Kate safely in jail, awaiting arraignment on the kidnapping charge—with other felony counts yet to come on both the state and federal levels—and Peter dead, Noah finally feels as though he can take a day off.

Noah sleeps in, but uses the rest of the morning to call Agent Marsh to see if he has the names of magic teachers and/or any idea of a therapist who might be what Stiles needs. Marsh does, indeed, have the name of a possible magic user as well as a couple of therapists, and Noah starts making phone calls.

He has to leave messages with them, but hopefully Noah will hear back soon.

Derek is reading idly on the couch when Scott drops by, and Noah comes out of his study. “Stiles is still sleeping, but I’ll check to see if he wants to talk to you,” Noah replies.

He’s pretty sure that Stiles will be willing, especially given the events of the previous night. Sure enough, Stiles flails his way out of bed, and he hasn’t lost his sense of humor, so Noah feels comfortable leaving him alone with Scott.

“Stiles will be down in a few minutes,” Noah says as he comes back into the living room. “Derek, you hungry? I could really go for a burger and some curly fries.”

Scott’s expression is almost betrayed. “But Stiles loves curly fries.”

Noah takes a couple of twenties out of his wallet and hands them to Scott. “Get some food for yourself and Stiles. I don’t think there’s much around here.”

Scott puts the money on the mantle. “Thanks, Sheriff.”

He still looks troubled, but Noah knows that he’s dealing with more than most young men his age. It’s not just falling in love for the first time only to find out that your girlfriend’s family hates you for a reason that’s beyond your control; it’s so much more complicated than that.

“Should we leave Stiles alone with him?” Derek asks in a low voice as Noah pulls out of the driveway.

Noah shakes his head. “Scott and Stiles have argued before, and they’ve always gotten past it. I don’t think this is going to be any different, and Mel and I have always tried to stay out of it.”

“Scott’s been a little irrational about things,” Derek says hesitantly.

“He’s a sixteen year old kid,” Noah says dryly. “He’s irrational about a lot of things. Did you sense that he was a danger to Stiles?”

“Not outside of the full moon,” Derek admits.

“The bigger risk is to Stiles’ heart,” Noah replies. “And there’s nothing I can do about that.”

Derek nods slowly. “Scott feels like pack. I think that’s Stiles’ doing.”

“I called the magic user Agent Marsh recommended,” Noah replies. “Right now, that’s the best I can do.”

They’re eating their burgers and curly fries in companionable silence—Noah relishing the fact that he’s not going to have to worry about his cholesterol from here on—when he gets a phone call.

He hurriedly wipes his hands off, and answers it, “Stilinski.”

“Noah, it’s Jim Brogan. I tried calling your office, but they said you’d taken the day off,” Brogan says, sounding vaguely disapproving.

But then Brogan always sounds like that, so Noah doesn’t take offense.

“My kid has had a rough week, and I was up all night,” Noah replies mildly. “And I needed to make some phone calls. What’s up?”

“I’ve been speaking with the Argents, and I just heard from their lawyer this morning,” Brogan replies. “The girl is willing to flip on her aunt, but I’m going to have to offer a sweetheart deal to get it done. I want to talk to Stiles before I make the offer.”

Noah appreciates that, and he says, “When do you want to meet?”

“How about tomorrow afternoon?” Brogan asks. “Give me a little time to work out the fine details. I’ve met Stiles once before, and if I know him, he’s going to have questions.”

Noah laughs. “You’ve got him pegged. Sure, I’m off tomorrow, and it’s Saturday, so Stiles won’t have school.”

“Let me check my calendar,” Brogan replies. “How about 2 pm?”

“Sounds good,” Noah replies. “We’ll be there.”

He hangs up and tucks his phone away, blowing out a breath.

“Is it normal for a DA to talk to the victim of a crime before making a plea deal?” Derek asks curiously, and Noah thinks it’s probably a good sign that Derek is expressing interest in procedure.

“I don’t know if it’s normal, but a good DA will at least discuss the ramifications with the victim,” Noah replies. “There’s a victim’s bill of rights in California, but a lot of that has to be done only if the victim requests it. Brogan and I have to work together, though, and I’m sure he doesn’t want to piss me off.”

Derek drums his fingers on the table. “When he said sweetheart deal, what do you think that means?”

“It means that she’s not going to do any time,” Noah says bluntly. “And I’d have been surprised if she did, even if she did go to trial.”

Derek looks away. “What about Kate?”

“Kate killed a lot of people,” Noah replies flatly. “She’s never getting out of prison.”

“If they can keep her there,” Derek replies, not sounding terribly certain.

Noah nods. “There is that. We’ll just have to keep a sharp eye out.” He hesitates, and says, “There really isn’t a need for you to be under protective custody at this point, Derek.”

He sees Derek visibly swallow. “I don’t—“

“Stop.” Noah can hear the authority in his own voice as he speaks. “I’m not saying you have to go anywhere. I’m asking what you want to do. As your Alpha.”

Derek can’t quite meet his eyes.

Noah is just feeling his way through this emotional morass now. “Have you ever lived alone, Derek?”

“Laura and I had neighboring apartments in New York,” Derek admits.

Noah is going to take that as a no. “How important is it for you to live near pack?”

Derek just shakes his head, and Noah takes that to mean that it’s essential, and Derek doesn’t want to admit it. “Then we need to make some other arrangements. We can clear out the guest room upstairs. We don’t have a lot of guests, so it’s filled with junk.”

“People will think it’s weird,” Derek objects.

“Let people think whatever they want,” Noah replies calmly. “What matters is what you need, and what the pack needs, and you would know that better than me.”

He can see that Derek is still uncomfortable with the idea. “Or, how about this?” Noah begins. “We clear out the guest room so that you can stay there whenever you want, and you have a key so you can come any time. You get an efficiency apartment so you can tell people you have another place to live, even if you don’t spend any time there.”

Something kindles behind Derek’s eyes then. “Yeah, that would work.”

Noah doesn’t ask what Derek is going to do with the space; it’s really none of his business. “Great, now that that’s sorted, let’s get to work.”

They go to the hardware store, and buy shelving for the crawl space, and when they get home, Scott and Stiles are having a video game marathon in the living room, a couple of half-eaten pizzas in boxes on the coffee table.

The boys are jostling each other, trash-talking, and clearly getting back to normal.

“Come on,” Noah says. “We’ll leave them to it.”

He and Derek clear out the spare room he and Stiles have been using for storage, and Noah is reminded that Stiles and Scott are both great kids, because they stop the video game marathon and start pitching in.

Derek proves to be handy with a hammer and nails, and Noah puts him in charge of putting up the shelving in the crawl space. He’s glad to have Stiles’ help, because some of the boxes are full of his mom’s things.

Noah had given away her clothing, other than a few pieces with sentimental value that he has in a drawer. Her jewelry has also been set aside for Stiles in case he ever wants it. But the boxes contain books, school records and diplomas, pictures of her and her family and friends.

Stiles touches the boxes reverently, but finally says, “I’m sorry. I don’t—I don’t think I’m up for going through these right now, but I don’t want to throw them out either.”

“They’ll be here when you’re ready,” Noah assures him. “When we’re both feeling a little steadier, we can go through them together.”

Stiles peeks inside one box, his curiosity getting the better of him, and he makes a punched out sound as he pulls out a picture.

Claudia had insisted on yearly family portraits until she got sick, and so that last year, Noah had been the one to arrange it, even if it had just been their old camera on a timer, and Noah dashing to actually make it into the picture.

Stiles is looking at the best out of three, the picture Claudia had by her hospital bedside, to hopefully remind her of better days.

After she died, Noah hadn’t been able to look at it again.

Derek looks over Stiles’ shoulder, and he almost smiles. “You were cute.”

Stiles is standing up straight, looking at the camera with a focus he rarely displayed in those days, desperate to be good for his mom, to take a good picture for her. Claudia stands behind her, her dark hair around her shoulders, and there’s that vague look in her eyes that Noah had grown to hate.

And there he is, standing behind the two of them, one hand around Claudia’s waist, the other hand on Stiles’ shoulder, trying to hold his family together, only to have it fall apart.

“You know, you can get photos put on canvases,” Derek suggests tentatively. “It’s a really great picture.”

Stiles scrubs his hands over his face. “That might be good.”

Noah reaches out and squeezes his shoulder. “Leave that photo out, and we’ll work on it.”

Stiles puts the photo to the side and hastily closes up the box. “Yeah, okay.”

Scott leans into him and wraps an arm around Stiles’ shoulders.

And Noah feels like he’s building something here, although he has no idea what it is, maybe other than family.

~~~~~

By the time they clear out the spare room, and get things stored in the crawl space and the garage, it’s dinner time. His dad orders enough Chinese food for an army, and Scott and Derek eat enough for two—so does his dad. The werewolf metabolism is definitely a thing.

Stiles hadn’t really understood how empty the house had felt until he had Scott and Derek there. Both of them decide to stay the night, and they all pile into the living room to watch old action movies.

He and Scott sprawl out on the floor, sharing a bowl of popcorn between them, and his dad and Derek sit on the couch, and Stiles feels like they’re all in a really good place, at least for the moment.

Of course, they have to talk to the prosecutor tomorrow, so that might change things.

But for tonight, things are good.

Scott has a shift at the vet clinic the following day, and he has to get up pretty early. Derek announces that he’s going to be looking for an apartment, and Stiles gives his dad a curious look. His dad just shakes his head, so Stiles figures he’ll get the information later.

Stiles works on the homework he’d missed, getting caught up so he can take finals the following week. After lunch, his dad drives them to the DA’s office.

“What was that about Derek?” Stiles asks.

“He’s never lived alone without pack nearby,” his dad replies. “But he also doesn’t want to impose or be dependent.”

“So, we clear out the guest room, and Derek or whoever can sleep there whenever they like, and he gets the illusion of having his own place,” Stiles comments. “Makes sense to me.”

His dad glances at him. “You don’t mind? It’s been you and me for a while, kiddo.”

“It feels right,” Stiles replies. He’s not sure whether he should tell his dad this, but they’ve been trying to be honest with each other. “When Derek was trying to get me over the panic attack the other night, he said my eyes glowed gold.”

“I’m still hoping to hear back from that magic user Agent Marsh told me about,” his dad finally says. “I think it’s going to be important. How do you feel?”

“I feel connected,” Stiles admits. “To you, but in a different way, and Scott’s the same. But I feel connected to Derek. It was easier to sleep last night.”

His dad blows out a breath. “Right, well, I have to admit feeling much the same.” He pulls up in front of the courthouse that houses the DA’s office. “Are you ready for this?”

“He just wants to know if I’m going to be really mad if Allison doesn’t spend time behind bars, right?” Stiles asks.

His dad nods. “Technically, you would normally have to ask—“

“I’ve read the victim’s bill of rights, Dad,” Stiles interrupts. “And I know I’m getting special consideration because you’re the sheriff.”

“You’re not wrong,” his dad admits. “But if you’re truly not okay with the proposed plea deal, I want you to say something. It might not change Brogan’s mind. In fact, I can pretty much guarantee that it won’t, but this is your opportunity to have your say.”

Stiles shakes his head. “I don’t want Allison to go to jail. Kate needs to be behind bars, and the jury is still out on the rest of the Argents, but I mostly blame Allison’s parents for her role in things.”

“They have a lot to answer for, but being bad parents and having terrible judgment about people aren’t exactly crimes,” his dad says.

“Too bad,” Stiles says. “But then I’d probably be a criminal, so maybe not.”

That comment makes his dad laugh. “Come on. We don’t want to be late.”

Stiles has met Brogan once before, at his dad’s last post-election party. He’s a tall, broad man with thinning brown hair and a handlebar mustache that should look ridiculous but doesn’t.

He comes out from behind his desk to shake his dad’s hand, and then offers the same courtesy to Stiles. “How are you feeling, Stiles?” Brogan asks solicitously. “You’re still looking a little banged up.”

Stiles shrugs self-consciously. “Not too bad. The electricity was the worst of it, and I’m doing okay now.”

“Good, good,” Brogan says. “Have a seat, both of you. Did your dad tell you why I wanted to talk to you today, Stiles?”

Stiles nods, knowing that Brogan is setting up the conversation like any good lawyer.

“I could prosecute Kate Argent with your testimony alone,” Brogan admits. “You’re a credible witness with documented injuries. But it would be easier with Allison on board.”

Stiles takes a deep breath. “I get it. She could try to cast doubt on my testimony.”

“And that may have been the initial plan, before Kate dragged Allison into another kidnapping plot, and right in front of the sheriff.” Brogan shakes his head. “I fully expect her attorney to ask for a competency hearing, and it wouldn’t surprise me to find out that Kate is not competent to stand trial.”

Stiles has no idea how that will work out, but he figures that’s not up to him. “But she’s willing to cooperate now?”

Brogan nods. “The Argents are actually here. Allison expressed interest in apologizing to you in person, but I told her that would have to be your choice.”

Stiles shrugs. “I’ll talk to her, and I don’t really want her to go to jail, so I’m fine with the plea deal, too.”

Brogan looks at his dad. “What are your feelings on the matter?”

“I think that she’s been under her aunt’s bad influence, and if she can be salvaged, I’d rather have that outcome,” his dad replies. “But then I feel that way about most kids.”

Brogan nods. “Good. I think it will be better for everyone to get Allison’s testimony locked down.”

Stiles can just imagine: Allison with her wholesome good looks, sitting on the witness stand, testifying against her own aunt. “That’s fine with me.”

Brogan nods. “Well, then if you’re sure, I’ll go let the Argents and their attorney know.”

Stiles clears his throat. “I don’t mind talking to Allison, but I don’t really want to talk to her parents.”

Brogan nods. “I don’t blame you. Sheriff?”

“Stiles can make his own decisions on this matter,” his dad replies. “I’ll wait outside for them to be done.”

“I’ll be right back,” Brogan promises.

When he leaves, his dad says, “You didn’t ask for any details about the plea deal.”

Stiles shrugs. “What does it matter? I already said I didn’t necessarily want to see her in jail, and that just leaves probation or diversion.”

“True,” his dad says.

After about ten minutes, Brogan returns with Allison in tow. Thankfully, neither of her parents are present, and his dad clasps him briefly on the shoulder before following Brogan out, leaving him alone with Allison.

Her eyes are red and swollen, her face blotchy, and she won’t quite look at him. Stiles might not want her behind bars, but he’s also not interested in making things easier for her.

“Mr. Brogan said you didn’t object,” she finally says after a long silence.

Stiles shrugs. “I’m not your enemy, you know.”

Allison looks at him finally. “I’m sorry. I should have contacted your dad or done something.”

“You do understand that they’re not that different, right?” Stiles asks. “There are bad apples everywhere.”

Allison nods. “I can’t—I’m not allowed to talk to Scott. Mr. Brogan is offering me the deal, but only if I testify against Kate.”

Stiles understands what she means. Allison won’t get her deal until after she testifies, and she can’t talk to Scott while her own case is pending. It could easily be seen as witness tampering.

“What do you want me to tell him?” Stiles asks.

He should have known that she mostly wanted to talk to him because she couldn’t talk to Scott.

“Just, tell him that I’m sorry, and I understand why he couldn’t tell me,” Allison replies. “I thought my dad might have killed him just for being my boyfriend, but he really might kill him given—everything else.”

Stiles can’t disagree. “True.”

She bites her lip. “But I don’t want you to think that I just wanted to talk to you about Scott. I really am sorry for what Kate did to you.”

Stiles stares at her. “Is that what you’re going with? That it was all Kate?”

“No,” she says after a moment. “I helped, and I was the one who tricked you.”

Stiles stares at the floor. “Just tell me something: was Lydia ever going to go to the Winter Formal with me?”

“I don’t know, Stiles,” Allison admits. “I never even asked her, so maybe?”

Stiles nods. “Right. Cool. Great talk. Good luck with everything, and I’ll pass the word along to Scott.”

Allison looks stricken. “I am sorry.”

“And I don’t forgive you,” Stiles says bluntly. “If that’s what you’re looking for. Maybe I will someday, when I know you’ve changed and aren’t going to start hunting the people I care about, but I don’t know that right now.”

Allison’s eyes well up. “Okay,” she whispers. “That’s fair.”

“I need to get going,” Stiles says. “I still have homework to do.”

He leaves without allowing her to say anything more, and he walks right past his dad and out of the building, not making eye contact with Allison’s parents, who are hovering in the hallway.

His dad follows him out, and they just sit in the car for a long time. “She wanted me to tell her that I forgave her.”

“Do you?” his dad asks.

“No,” Stiles says shortly. “I don’t know if she’s going to do it again. She got roped in to the thing with Scott, after all. Maybe she was trying to help him, but she still was involved.”

“She was,” his dad agrees. “And you’re under no obligation to forgive her, now or ever.”

Stiles nods shortly. “Thanks.”

He spends the afternoon getting through his homework, and even working ahead a bit. He can hear his dad puttering around the house, and Derek comes back around 5 pm with several bags of groceries. When Stiles hears the noise, he emerges from his room to investigate.

“What’s this?” his dad asks, going to the front door to help Derek.

“I thought I’d cook tonight,” Derek replies. “To say thank you.”

“That’s not necessary, but it is appreciated,” his dad replies.

Derek smiles. “I like cooking.” He glances up the stairs. “Stiles? Do you want to help?”

Stiles realizes that’s exactly what he wants to do. He wants to do something. “Yeah, happy to.”

His dad rubs his hand over Stiles’ head as he passes. “You okay, son?”

“I’m good,” Stiles says. “Nearly caught up now.”

“I never doubted you,” his dad replies.

It turns out that Derek is making a cottage pie—some might have called it a shepherd’s pie, but it can only properly be called that if it’s made with lamb.

Stiles insists on cheese on top of the potatoes, and Derek gives in with good grace.

“How did things go today?” Derek asks as Stiles peels potatoes.

“She wanted me to forgive her, and I didn’t,” Stiles replies. “I couldn’t.”

Derek glances at him. “You don’t strike me as the forgiving type.”

Stiles barks a laugh. “I am definitely not, although I’ll forgive a lot if you have my loyalty.”

“Not unlike a wolf,” Derek replies.

There’s a knock on the door, and Scott comes in. “Mom has to work again tonight, so I hope it’s okay i just dropped in.”

In the past, Scott probably would have texted first, but there’s a part of Stiles that had known Scott would be there.

“Hey,” Scott says as he enters the kitchen. “Um…”

“Go,” Derek says in an undertone. “Put him out of his misery.”

“Let’s go out back, Scott,” Stiles says.

Scott is still wearing his coat, and Stiles grabs his, and they go out onto the back porch, their breath fogging up the air. Scott doesn’t seem to feel the cold as much as Stiles does, and it offers the most privacy.

Not that there’s much privacy to be had in a house full of werewolves.

“Did you see her?” Scott asks eagerly.

Stiles nods. “She said to tell you that she’s sorry, and she understands why you couldn’t tell her.”

Scott looks eager. “Did she say she wanted to talk to me?”

“I think she does, but she can’t, buddy,” Stiles says, not without sympathy. “You were the victim of a crime she was involved in. If she talks to you, she risks being accused of witness tampering, and losing her plea deal.”

Scott takes a deep breath. “That’s okay. I can wait. I want her to be okay.”

That’s pretty much all he says, but Stiles figures even that much is progress.

“What about in the meantime?” Stiles asks. “Are you in or out of the pack?”

“Your dad is the Alpha, and I trust him,” Scott says easily. “I’m in. I like the way your house feels now. It feels more like home than mine does.”

“Your mom can be pack, too, if she wants,” Stiles says.

Scott glances at him. “But I wouldn’t even think about it if you weren’t part of it.”

Stiles slings an arm around Scott’s shoulders. “We’re brothers. That hasn’t changed, and it won’t.”

“Thanks for talking to Allison,” Scott says, leaning into Stiles. “You wouldn’t have had to, and I know you did it for me.”

Stiles smiles. “Yeah, I did.” He takes a deep breath. “Come on. I think we should probably help Derek finish dinner.”

And they turn to go into the house, and Stiles thinks, This is what pack feels like.

He can’t help but be grateful that his dad managed to get involved. He never thought he’d be able to say that, but things could have been so much worse.

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