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It wasn't just Hunters that looked at the Supernatural as monsters, there were more than few others that did as well. Though, Weres weren't as common place as people like to think. And they certainly didn't have as much power as conspiracy theorist suggested they had.
But unfortunately, that particular theory was becoming more and more main stream.
Whispers about a Supernatural Registration Act had been going around for a while, which was beyond stupid and dangerous as far as he was concerned. While most people only thought of the Supernatural in the forms of Shifters and of the parlour tricks that druids could do, there as a lot more out there.
And if there was even the slightest chance that a Registration Act would pass they were going to find themselves with more than just a handful of Weres. They’d also end up with a lot of angry Supernatural types on their hands, that they wouldn't have a clue what to do with, and hadn't even been aware of in the first place.
Stiles had spent more than half his life fighting with and working with the Supernatural. From when Scott had first been bitten to where he was now, the assistant, to the assistant of the Head of Homeland Security. And the only one really in the know about the monsters most people thought lived under their beds in the office other than the Director himself.
Those monsters who were actually productive members of society, for the most part, and were often the neighbour across the street that looked after your plants while you were on vacation.
And as the person in the know, the Director had him working, on the quiet, to produce reports that would squash whatever those after the registration act were really up to. Currently, he had background on two senators and three lobbyists who were either from Hunter families, the kind of families that that could make what happened with the Argents look like child's play. Or had received a back hander or three from those who really didn't have a clue about the supernatural but thought they did.
The reports were actually heading to the Secretary of State, which he wasn't thinking about in the slightest. What was worrying him more was that he was about to get a new handler, apparently someone very much in the know about the Supernatural who was going to work alongside his current FBI contact.
And today was their first meeting. He really didn't like situations he didn't have control over, even if he understood the reason, and he knew exactly the roots, branches and leaves of where that need came from. He'd had enough counselling that it was coming out of his ears, as it was part of his understanding with the FBI the one that allowed him to work his job and not end up in some jail cell or other.
But that still didn't mean he wasn't close to biting his nails down to the quick. And that his knee wasn't banging at several hundred beats a minute against the edge of the table waiting for the door to open. He was sat in the corner so that he could see the whole of the room and his back was to the wall as well as being as far away from the window as he could get. There had been one to many times with Scott's pack that he'd been caught unawares. Because some idiot or other, normally Scott, had been convinced that whatever the problem of the week was wouldn't go after him because he was just a squishy human. The idiot had never learned that the human was the easy target which was why Scott couldn't get an Emissary these days.
Something familiar brushed up against his skin, sliding over it like the cotton of the well-worn shirt that he still kept in the back of his closet. The one that had come from Beacon Hills with him when he'd moved to DC. Which brought him back from the thoughts, to the reality of the standard FBI conference room he was sat in.
Closing his eyes, he let his sixth sense reach out for who was round the corner, the familiar feeling of safety that came with pack and family. Though it was more distant than it would be if it were someone from home.
“Stiles you really shouldn't stretch yourself like that Sweetheart, you're going to hurt yourself. And really you should have told us about this, so we could have got you the right training. Your Dad would be the first to kill me if you got hurt. And he wouldn't be the last either. Being resurrected once was more than enough, thank you.”
The smirk on Peter Hale's face was enough to have him rolling his eyes, how was this his life? He had enough on his plate without having to deal with that particular brand of asshole.
“Peter, long time. Can't say I'm all that pleased to see you, but let's get this done. If nothing else I at least know I can work with you, kinda.”
And it wasn't as though he couldn't be an asshole himself when he wanted to be. That special brand that was all Stiles Stilinski, if Peter hadn't worked out he'd grown up he was just about to.