Chapter Text
Both Stiles and Derek tried to beat off the automaton with one hand each. Neither were successful. Stiles was about to jump away and leave Derek to try fighting as a werewolf when Laura stumbled over and, using a handkerchief that she procured from down the front of her dress, wiped the rest of the smudged word from the automaton’s forehead.
The automaton let go of Derek and collapsed to the floor.
Its skin began melting away in slow rivulets. Soon, all that was left was a metal frame lying in a puddle of black goo and wax.
Laura crumpled to the floor, having used the last of her strength. Stiles bent over her, careful not to touch. She was somehow still alive.
“Why?” he asked. “Why did that work?”
“You only removed part of the activating word. There was still some power left,” replied Derek.
“Well,” huffed Stiles. “How was I supposed to know?”
“No worries, dear,” said Laura from her prone position on the floor.
They heard a great noise from outside the room. Suddenly a large group of young people burst into the room, carrying with them the bound form of Jennifer Blake. Upon seeing Laura, a number of them shrieked and ran over.
“Laura’s drones,” explained Stiles.
“I’d have never guessed,” Derek replied sardonically.
“Where did they come from?” wondered Stiles.
One of the young men, whom Stiles remembered, realized what was wrong with Laura and pushed up his sleeve, offering his wrist.
“Scotty, dear, do not let me drink for you for too long.”
“Of course.” Scott put his wrist to the vampire’s lips and Laura bit down in relief.
Scott pulled away when he’d given enough. Another drone took his place. After the fourth drone, Laura’s wounds began to close.
“Explain yourselves,” Laura ordered, when she was strong enough.
“We gathered quite a lot of information quickly tonight,” explained Scott. “”We returned early, but found you gone, so we acted on the information. Apparently there was a lot of suspicious activity going on around this building on campus tonight. There was even police tape, but one person’s father was a cop and knew nothing about it.”
“You did well,” Stiles said to the group. He wished his students took this much initiative.
Derek said, “Someone needs to go to BUR and send some agents over. This is a police scene now. And we’ll need someone to call the Commissioner Stilinski. I don’t think he’d like to be out of the loop on this one. Do any of you have a phone?”
When every drone produced one, Derek took one from Scott. “I’m going to call campus police to get them to secure the scene as well as possible now. And get the university’s president down here.”
Derek sighed. “This is going to be a lot of paperwork. And Argent is out of commission tonight.”
“I bet you could get Laura’s drones to help. They’re incredibly efficient.”
This did seem to be true. Although they all looked to be frivolous and uninformed, they managed to get the police and university involved quickly. They let out any captured vampires, although at Derek’s insistence, left the werewolves locked up. Laura smiled at them all fondly.
Blake was carted off to prison by two BUR agents – a vampire and human. Stiles had to speak severely to both Derek and his father about paying her a call once Stiles was no longer around.
“Neither of you are above the law and you know it. Leave it alone. She’s been caught and there’s no way she’s getting away with anything.”
“Just a mild dismemberment?” asked Stiles’s father. “No!” said Stiles, exasperated. Derek commented that John Stilinski might make a good werewolf. Stiles threw his hands up in annoyance.
--
When Stiles arrived home, he wanted nothing more than to fall asleep and never get back up. He had had to be carried off campus by Argent once the sun rose, Laura’s handkerchief covering his face from the press already gathered outside the police tape.
Erica, of course, wanted to know every detail. Stiles tried very hard to ignore her.
Suddenly there was a loud knocking on the door. Stiles groaned. “Erica, I’m not home.”
A deep voice through the door said, “You are home to me.”
Erica opened the door to reveal three men in dark suits. Two wore ear pieces and hand guns. The third wore an American flag pin and the smile of a politician. Erica squeaked. Stiles almost fainted.
“Um, excuse me, Mr. President. I thought you were the press.” Stiles tried to explain.
“No formality, Mr. Stilinski. I understand you have had an interesting night.”
Stiles nodded and made a gesture for the President to sit, finally noticing how badly decorated they kept the place. He made a vow to take Erica on a shopping trip so they could finally make the apartment seem a little more like a home.
“Miss-?“ the President paused, looking at Erica.
“Reyes,” she responded in barely a whisper.
“Miss Reyes, could Mr. Stilinski and I please have a moment?” the President asked.
Erica nodded and fled the room. Argent made to leave as well, but the President asked him to stay.
“Mr. Stilinski, you are not at all what I expected.”
“You knew to expect something?” Stiles responded, startled.
“You are the only preternatural on American soil. We approved your mother’s immigration when she was just a child. We were informed the moment you were born. Well, my predecessor was, in any case.”
Stiles nodded mutely.
“You are aware of the Shadow Council?” he asked.
Stiles nodded again. “The potentate acts as your official vampire consultant and the dewan in the werewolf capacity.”
“Yes, this is true. There is a third post, meant to break the stalemate between the other two. A shah.”
Stiles looked confused. “A ghost?”
The President explained. “Traditionally the third member of the Shadow Council is a preternatural, the shah. Your mother declined the post, I believe.”
“Aside from breaking a stalemate, the shah is the only truly mobile unit of the three councilors. The potentate is confined to a narrow territory and cannot function during the day. The dewan is more mobile, but cannot travel by plane and is incapacitated every full moon. We have relied on the FBI and BUR to make up for the Shadow Council’s weakness, but I would prefer a shah whose attentions are on the country’s concerns.”
“So it would require travel?” Stiles asked.
“Derek will not like that,” muttered Argent from the wall he was leaning against.
“Possibly. The potentate’s area is New York and the dewan lives here as well, so you would not need to travel for meetings. There may be field work, though. I and my advisors have kept up with your work both during your masters and your doctoral work now. We will try to limit your travel as much as possible while you finish your doctorate, but I would ask you to finish as quickly as possible.”
Stiles nodded. “I guess, I accept.”
“Very good. Alpha Hale indicated you would, but I wasn’t sure, after your mother.”
“Derek what?”
“He recommended you a few years ago, when you first met. I was advised to wait and see if you completed your masters first and what you did from there. Continuing on to a doctorate assured me you’ll have the appropriate background, but your personal investigation over the past few weeks into this case made me confident that you can handle all that the job entails.”
Stiles actually felt a little proud. Who could call him meddling now? The President of the United States just complimented him on it!
Argent laughed. “I think Hale wants to throw him at the dewan and see what happens.”
The President smiled. “They have never gotten along. It will be interesting, though.”
--
Epilogue
A year and a half later, Stiles was standing under trees on campus in the late afternoon sun with Derek, his father, Erica, Boyd (who Erica had not so secretly been dating for six months until Stiles finally told her everyone already knew about it), and Erica’s parents. Both he and Erica had just graduated – he with his PhD and Erica with her Masters, both in Supernatural Studies. Stiles’s father insisted on pictures of everyone – in groups, in pairs, individually – and everyone was very sick of the click of the camera. John Stilinski ignored them. It was not every day that one gained a doctor in the family, after all. And Erica, despite having two parents already, was basically a second daughter to him. This was a big day.
Erica would be joining the Manhattan BUR office (Derek wasn’t sure the office would survive) and Stiles had finally been promoted to full-time professor. His salary was, thankfully, being raised as well.
There was to be a graduation party later that night a Laura’s house. Stiles had unfortunately no choice but to introduce Laura and Erica. He was right. It had been a horrible idea.
Between the entirety of Derek’s pack and clavigers, Laura’s drones, and all of Erica and Stiles’s accumulated friends and acquaintances, the party was going to be quite packed. Stiles and Erica arrived early, as did Stiles’s father and Derek. Scott and the rest of the drones immediately set them to various tasks about the place to prepare for the party. Stiles waived them off and went to Laura’s bedroom.
He woke her from her deadlike daytime sleep with a touch.
“It’s almost sunset,” he said with a smile. “Come with me.”
Clad in only a thin blue nightgown, he took the vampire firmly by the hand and led her up through the house and to the rooftop.
They stood together and Laura rested her cheek on his shoulder, watching the sun set over the city. Laura refrained from pointing out that he would be late for his own party and Stiles refrained from pointing out that she was crying.
Once all glimmer of the sun was gone, Laura left to go downstairs, noticing a dark figure standing in the background of the rooftop.
As she passed, she whispered, “Don’t screw this up, little bro.”
Derek emerged from the shadows and took Laura’s place next to Stiles, looking out over the city. He wrapped an arm around Stiles’s waist and Stiles leaned into him. They remained like that for a few moments, watching the traffic and lights below.
“Happy graduation, Dr. Stilinski,” murmured Derek. Stiles looked up at him and smiled.
Turning slightly, Derek positioned Stiles so that they were facing each other. “Stiles, I want to ask you something.”
Derek looked nervous. Derek never looked nervous. Stiles was intrigued. “I don’t—I don’t,” Derek was stuttering now. “I didn’t buy a ring for this. You don’t really seem like the engagement ring type. I don’t know how to do this. I asked Chris if I should get down on one knee, but he rolled his eyes at me…” Derek trailed off.
Stiles tried not to laugh. He wasn’t sure Derek had ever babbled, but there was no other word for what he was doing now. “Derek, are you trying to ask me to marry you?”
Derek nodded mutely. Stiles would never admit it, but he got a kind of sick pleasure in seeing Derek at a loss for words. It so rarely happened. Granted, the same could be said for Stiles.
Stiles’s smile grew wider. “Duh. Was there even a question? Of course I will!”
Stiles grabbed his shirt and pulled him forward into a very deep kiss.
A wolf-whistle emanated from the rooftop door. They broke their kiss and turned only to find Erica, Laura (who had managed to change into party attire astonishingly fast), Boyd, and Stiles’s father crowded around the door.
“Don’t you have a party to be at?” grumbled Derek.
“Yes! And you’re hogging one of the guests of honor!” yelled Laura. “Stiles, honey, are you sure you want to marry a possessive werewolf like that?” She wrinkled her nose in fake disgust.
Stiles laughed and, dragging Derek along, joined the party downstairs.