Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Stiles glances at Moira, drumming his fingers on the gray formica table. “You know I’ve had a crush on her since, like, third grade, right?”

Moira chuckles. “Is that past or present tense?”

“Well, I’m certainly going to continue to admire her from afar if she’s not nice to the rest of the pack,” Stiles replies. “I can admire a pretty face without needing to do anything about it.”

Moira gives him a sideways look. “Now, I know that’s true.”

Stiles tries to fight his blush—unsuccessfully. They’re meeting Lydia at the local diner for lunch. Moira has been doing some research, and she thought she’d be able to diagnose Lydia’s problem with a few questions.

Stiles feels a little wary about this whole thing, but he remembers how uncertain everything had been after Scott was bitten, when they’d been trying to figure out what was coming next. If Lydia is manifesting new gifts, Moira is probably the best person to help her—or know where she can get help.

He and Moira are sitting side by side in a red vinyl booth. The decor is old fashioned, but Stiles likes it, and they have the best milkshakes and curly fries in the state.

Lydia enters the diner in a swirl of red hair, wearing a pair of very tight jeans and a t-shirt that’s falling off one shoulder. Stiles still finds her wildly attractive, of course, but he also understands that his first duty is to his pack. A casual relationship is one thing, but a serious one is going to require buy-in from others.

Stiles has made a study of Lydia Martin for years, and he knows that in spite of her carefully applied makeup, she’s feeling some strain. The dark circles under her eyes aren’t easily hidden, and there are new lines around her eyes and mouth. 

Lydia sits down across from them and tosses her hair over her shoulder. “Stiles. Thanks for meeting me.”

That’s a lot more polite than Lydia has been in the past, and Stiles responds by saying, “Of course. This is Moira Keynes. She has some expertise in weird stuff. Moira, this is Lydia Martin.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Lydia says politely. 

“Likewise,” Moira replies. 

Their waitress comes over, wearing a teal uniform dress with a white apron, with a name tag that reads, “Abbie.” 

“Hi, everyone,” she says cheerfully. “Can I get you anything?”

“I’ll take a Coke, and a club sandwich,” Moira says when Abbie looks at her first. 

Lydia is next. “A Cobb salad with the house dressing on the side, and a Diet Coke.”

Stiles has krav maga later, so he knows he’s going to need the fuel. “A cheeseburger, curly fries, and a Coke,” Stiles says.

Batman is sitting under the table, leaning heavily against Stiles’ leg, for which he’s grateful. The diner isn’t terribly crowded right now, but any time he’s in a public space, he feels like he has to be hyper vigilant. 

And the fact that whatever had been imprisoned in the Nemeton has broken free has Stiles’ anxiety fairly high. Granted, they’re pretty sure it’s a nogitsune, but it has yet to manifest itself.

Stiles is pretty sure that the key word there is “yet.”

“You got it,” Abbie says cheerfully. “I’ll have your food right out.”

“Do you know what’s happening to me?” Lydia asks once they’re alone.

Moira inclines her head. “I might. I have a few questions. Answer them honestly, and I should be able to help you.”

Lydia nods. “I don’t have anything to gain by lying.”

“No, you don’t,” Moira replies bluntly. “First, when did you first start noticing the change?”

Lydia takes a deep breath. “The first was when Stiles’ friend, Heather, died. I felt it. I felt the other deaths, too, and I knew where the bodies were going to be found.”

Moira nods, as though she doesn’t find the information surprising. “And have you screamed for the dead?”

Lydia blinks. “Yes, how did you know?”

Moira smiles. “Because you, my dear, are what we call a banshee. They sense death, particularly supernatural death.”

Lydia frowns at her. “What do you mean, ‘supernatural?’”

“You know exactly what I mean,” Moira replies evenly.

Stiles is watching the byplay with interest, but without interruption. He knows he’s entirely superfluous to the conversation.

Lydia grimaces. “I was never one to believe in ghosts.”

“It’s not ghosts you need to believe in, but yourself,” Moira counters.

Abbie turns up with their food just then, and that silences the table. They murmur their thanks, and Stiles is starving, so he falls on his food, although he makes an attempt to utilize good manners.

Lydia begins to eat her salad, but she’s picking at it more than anything else.

“You should eat, dear,” Moira says. “You’ll need your strength. You never know what’s going to happen in Beacon Hills.”

“Will there be more deaths?” Lydia asks, sounding fearful.

“Not from the same source,” Moira replies. “But there’s a reason this town was called Beacon Hills, and that’s because it tends to draw in the supernatural.”

Lydia stabs her lettuce with some force. “How do I make it go away?”

Moira’s expression is sympathetic as she says, “You don’t. A gift, once awoken, is not so easily suppressed. You can train it, though.”

Lydia takes a deep breath. “How do I do that?”

“I have a few contacts,” Moira replies. “I’m waiting to see if they’ll be able to come here or if they’ll need to train you remotely—or even have you go to them.”

Lydia grimaces. “Am I dangerous?”

“Just as much as anyone can be,” Moira replies. 

“What does that mean?” Lydia asks.

“It means that anyone can be dangerous, under the right circumstances,” Stiles inserts. “Even me.”

Lydia actually cracks a smile at that. “Oh, I figured that out for myself. The rumors are that you managed to escape a kidnapping. You have to be a little bit dangerous.”

“Why, Lydia, I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Stiles replies. 

Lydia gives him a look. “Don’t think that makes us friends.”

“I would never presume,” Stiles replies.

Lydia nods. “What do you need from me?”

“Your phone number,” Moira says with a smile. “So I can stay in touch.”

“That’s easy enough,” Lydia replies. She pulls out her cell phone, unlocks it, and hands it over to Moira. 

Moira, in turns, programs in her name and phone number, and then sends herself a text. “Let me know if you have any issues.”

“I will, thanks,” Lydia says. “I know you didn’t have to do this.”

Moira shakes her head. “It’s my pleasure. And I’ll cover lunch today.”

Lydia nods. “I appreciate it.”

She finishes up what’s left of her Cobb salad and says, “Sorry, but I have something else, so I need to run.”

Stiles is still cleaning up the rest of his curly fries, so he and Moira stay. “That went well,” he says brightly. “We didn’t even have to mention the rest of it.”

Moira snorts. “She was too focused on her own problems today. Give it time, and she’ll start to ask questions. Are you comfortable with her knowing about the pack and your magic?”

“Just because she knows, doesn't mean she’s pack,” Stiles points out. “She can be pack adjacent, like Danny.”

“True,” Moira agrees. “How are you doing?”

Stiles shrugs. “The thing in the tree is no longer in the tree. We don’t know what it’s going to do, or if it will target anyone. It’s just this silent threat.”

Moira grimaces. “I have an idea for that, but I’m not sure that anyone is going to like it.”

“What, are there anti-possession wards?” Stiles asks with real curiosity.

“There are,” Moira confirms. “But they need to be tied to that person’s magical signature, and they’re of a rather permanent nature.”

Stiles can feel his eyebrows go straight up. “Like a tattoo? Because I am 100% okay with a tattoo if it means something can’t take over my brain.”

“It’s more that it will allow you to sense when something is trying to take over your brain, and steps can be taken after that,” Moira cautions. 

“I’ll take it,” Stiles says. “As an anxiety management tactic, it seems relatively mild.”

“Permanently altering your body is mild?” Moira asks.

Stiles shrugs. “The anxiety is always going to be there, right? But not worrying about something taking over my brain would be a step in the right direction.”

“We’ll have to talk to your father about it,” Moira replies. “Since you’re a minor, he’ll have to agree, as will the other parents and/or guardians if that’s something they want to consider. Well, other than for Isaac and Boyd, of course.”

“How do you tattoo a werewolf?” Stiles asks suddenly, thinking through the ramifications.

Moira smiles. “Very carefully. We’ll talk to your dad. For now, try not to worry too much.”

“That’s easier said than done,” Stiles admits.

Moira pats his cheek. “I know, mo chroi. Still, I’d like it if you’d try.”

Stiles nods. “I’ll try.”

~~~~~

Derek sits on the hood of the Camaro and watches as the last of the debris from the old house is cleared away. There are another couple of trucks standing by, loaded with supplies to start the rebuilding process.

Noah sits next to him and passes him the thermos. “It’s tea, not coffee.”

“Thanks,” Derek replies.

“This is probably a question for Jack to ask you, but how are you feeling?” Noah asks.

“We’re tearing down the old to make way for something new,” Derek replies. “I’m happy. I think we’re building something good.”

“It’s okay to be sad, too,” Noah says quietly. “That’s a perfectly normal emotion.”

Derek shakes his head. “This is where Stiles was tortured, where my family died. Cora wouldn’t even agree to come see this place before it was torn down.”

“I can’t really blame her,” Noah says. “She’s found a sense of belonging and purpose. Seeing this place in ruins might jeopardize that. But in some months’ time, she’ll see that she has her pack house back.”

“I agree,” Derek agrees. “Until then, I’ll watch over the building process. How is everything else?”

“Fine,” Noah replies. “Quiet. I don’t trust it.”

Derek snorts. “This is Beacon Hills. The quiet doesn’t last long.”

“Exactly,” Noah replies. “How’s school?”

“Nearly done with the second module,” Derek says. “Parrish and I are second and first, respectively. I think he’s a little put out with me, especially given my—special gifts.”

Noah laughs. “I think Parrish has a few things going for him, and he just doesn’t know it yet.”

“Well, he’s ready to get started as a reserve officer, and so am I,” Derek admits.

Noah pats him on the shoulder. “Just a few more weeks. I know I said I was going to pair you with Mark, but after discussing it with Tara, we both think you’ll do better with me or her, at least to start. Mark is going to take Parrish.”

“I do really appreciate everything you've done for me and Cora,” Derek says quietly. “This wouldn’t be possible except for you.”

“And you,” Noah points out. “We all have a role to play.”

Derek figures that’s true. Everyone in the pack has something they bring to the table, but he can’t imagine what his life would look like right now if Noah hadn’t become the Alpha. 

He wouldn’t be on the road to becoming a deputy. Deucalion might have managed to kill some of the pack members. Who knows what the Argents would have done?

As if Derek’s thought had summoned the news, Noah’s cell phone rings, and he picks up. “Stilinski.”

There’s a long pause, and then he says, “I guess that saves the cost of putting him on trial. What does that do for the case against Kate Argent?”

There’s a longer pause, and Noah sighs. “Got it. All right, I’ll let Stiles know. Thanks.”

Derek keeps his silence, knowing that Noah will fill him in.

“Gerard Argent finally kicked the bucket,” Noah says. “The DA thinks they’ll probably throw him under the bus, blame him for the murders and her escape attempt.”

Derek knows enough about procedure to know what that means. “So, you’ll have to nail down where they both were at the times of the murders.”

“That’s about the sum of it,” Noah says. “So, if you could finish up the second module sooner rather than later, I’m putting you and Parrish on it.”

Derek glances at him. “Would that compromise the evidence if they ask about chain of custody?”

“No, because I’m putting you on Gerard’s whereabouts and Parrish on Kate’s,” Noah says. “Financials have already been pulled, along with whatever cell phone or other electronic records we could come up with.”

Derek gives him a look. “According to my instructor, I shouldn’t be anywhere near this case.”

Noah nods. “Ordinarily, I’d agree with you and your instructor, but we have a small department. The FBI has federal charges pending against her for the other murders, but we’re going to have to figure out where Gerard was, and whether he was funding her murder spree.”

“How did he die?” Derek asks.

“The cancer finally killed him,” Noah says. “And good riddance to bad rubbish.”

They’ve already started to frame the walls, and Derek is a little surprised at how quickly everything is moving. He’d been promised that the house would be done in nine months, and he’s beginning to believe them.

Of course, they’re getting paid enough, with a bonus if they finish on time or earlier.

“At least they can’t blame us for that,” Derek comments. 

Noah snorts. “Not that they wouldn’t try, but I think they’ll be too busy trying to save Kate.”

“Not Allison?” Derek asks.

Noah shakes his head. “Allison will save herself by testifying against Kate.”

Derek figures that Noah knows what he’s talking about, and they’ll have those machinations to look forward to as the trials move forward. “Will that paint a target on Allison’s back?”

“Her father is an arms dealer,” Noah counters. “That’s on him to figure out.”

And that’s the thing about Noah, Derek thinks. He puts the pack first, and he’s very good at compartmentalizing.

Derek finishes his thermos of tea, and he asks, “Are you ready to head back? I told Stiles I’d cook tonight, since he’s got krav maga this afternoon.”

Noah nods. “Sounds good.”

Derek has become practiced at making enough food for an army—or a werewolf pack—as has Stiles. He usually has some idea of who’s showing up just based on the pack’s shared Google calendar, a necessity for the modern pack. The calendar had been instituted by Stiles, and has work shifts, lacrosse games, cross country meets, and other events.

Boyd, Erica, and Isaac all have evening shifts, but will be hungry when they inevitably stop by later. Stiles and Moira will be there, along with Noah. Parrish said he’d come, and Dave and Paul will stop by before they start the night shift. Tara had begged off, but Scott will show. Cora is also planning to be there, although she said she planned to study in the library that afternoon.

Derek spatchcocks four chickens as Noah cuts up the potatoes and vegetables. He plans to roast the chickens on the bed of veggies, and he has a bag of frozen rolls in the freezer.

It’s a hearty meal, but it is fall, and the temperatures are dropping.

“God, that smells good,” Stiles says as he comes in, his clothing sweat soaked, and he smells like satisfaction tinged with something else. Batman is walking right by his side.

“How did things go today?” Noah asks, looking up from the report he’s reading.

Stiles shrugs. “Good, I think. I mean, Lydia at least got some answers and some direction.”

Moira comes in behind him and says, “You should tell him how your krav maga session went.”

“I managed to put my opponent on the ground today,” Stiles admits. “And it was Leah, who’s been training for years, so that was pretty great. Sensei OB even told me I’d done well.”

“That’s high praise coming from him,” Noah comments with a smile. “Good job, son.”

Stiles shrugs. “It’s been fun. I’m going to get cleaned up before everyone starts to arrive.”

Noah turns to Moira. “How did things go?”

“Stiles is growing into his magic faster than I anticipated,” Moira admits. “And he’s starting to use it instinctively in his fighting practice.”

“Is that a problem?” Derek asks, because from his perspective that sounds like Stiles can protect himself in a way that no one knows about.

Moira shakes her head. “It’s the opposite of a problem. He displayed control the whole time. Stiles feels a bit like he cheated, though.”

“That’s like asking me if I’m cheating in my classes,” Derek mutters.

“Maybe you could point that out to him,” Moira replies. “Stiles is worried about it.”

Noah hums under his breath. “I think it speaks to your tutelage that he was able to use his abilities and maintain control. That will only help him in the future.”

“But also Stiles’ maturation,” Moira says. “Still, thank you.”

“There’s some news,” Noah admits, “but I’ll wait until Stiles is here to share it.”

The chickens and veggies are in the oven in a large roasting pan when Stiles comes back downstairs. He’s wearing joggers and a hoodie, indicating that he plans to stay in the rest of the night.

Stiles has his hands tucked into the front pocket of his hoodie, and he asks, “Did Moira tell you, Dad?”

“She said she used your magic, and that you exercised a lot of control,” Noah says mildly. “You don’t know what a relief it is to me, Stiles, to know that you can do that.”

Stiles blinks. “What?”

“You can fight, and you can use your magic to protect yourself, kid,” Noah says. “What part of that wouldn’t be a relief?”

Stiles’ shoulders slump. “I thought you’d be mad.”

Noah glances at Moira. “You were there; I wasn’t. Do I need to be mad?”

“No one knows. Everyone just thought that Stiles had made a breakthrough,” Moira replies.

Noah turns an expectant look on Stiles. “So?”

“You don’t need to be mad,” Stiles admits. “I don’t know. It just felt weird. Like I was cheating.”

“Using your gifts isn’t cheating,” Derek inserts. “It’s called surviving. Maybe even winning.”

Stiles nods slowly. “Okay, fair.” He pauses. “You have a look on your face, Pops. What’s up?”

“Come sit,” Noah replies. “I got some news this afternoon.”

Stiles sits, regarding Noah warily. “Does it have something to do with the Argents?”

“It does,” Noah admits. “Gerard is dead.”

“What killed him?” 

“Cancer.”

“Well, thank god for that,” Stiles mutters. “I thought the old bastard would never die. Wait, what does that mean for Kate?”

Noah inclines his head. “Exactly my question. The thought is that Kate’s defense will try to pin the murders on him. We’re doing to have to do some serious legwork to determine where Gerard was when the murders occurred. She’s going to have a much harder time wriggling out of the kidnapping charge, of course.”

Stiles shoots Derek a sly look. “Good thing you have two new reserve officers coming onboard.”

“I’ve already been told we’re being put to work,” Derek admits.

“I’m happy to help, too,” Stiles says. “At least at running down the information. I know you’ll have to double check everything.”

“Everything will be triple checked,” Noah assures him. “Do you have any specific anxieties?”

Stiles shrugs. “Gerard is dead. We don’t have to worry about him now. That’s a good problem to have.”

“And Kate?” Noah preses.

“She can fuck right off.” Stiles says irritably.

“Your language, kiddo,” Noah replies, but it’s a very mild rebuke.

Stiles gives him a narrow-eyed look. “It’s language appropriate to the person and the occasion.”

“Sorry, Noah, but he’s right,” Moira says.

“You’re not wrong,” Noah admits. “Are you okay, Stiles?”

Stiles grins crookedly.  “Yeah, I’m good, Pops. We just have one less enemy to worry about.”

~~~~~

Noah really can’t wait until the new house is ready, because they just don’t have enough room for everyone. As it stands, he’s already looking into a custom dining table—although he’ll have to make sure it can expand. Noah has no doubt that the pack will continue to grow, even if he has no plans to do so at the moment.

For nights like this, they use the heavy-duty paper plates just because they don’t have enough dishes, although Stiles found a mismatched set of tableware at a yard sale to supplement their own.

Scott and Cora come, jostling each other. “Look who the cat dragged in!” Cora calls cheerfully.

“I gave you a ride!” Scott protests.

Derek gives Scott a look. “Did you both wear helmets?”

“Of course,” Scott says quickly. “Cora texted me, and I picked her up on my way home from work.”

Noah knows that Scott has picked up a job at the local animal shelter; his work at the animal clinic had given him enough expertise to deliver vaccinations and assist with surgeries.

“Any great adoptions today?” Stiles asks.

“One of our long-term dogs finally found her forever home,” Scott says cheerfully. “She’s an older dog, too, so harder to place, but a little girl came in today and fell in love, which was mutual. And one of our older cats was adopted today.”

“I don’t know how you do it,” Cora mutters. “I’d want to bring them all home.”

Scott shrugs. “They all belong to someone. They’re just waiting for that person to show up.”

The front door opens and Dave and Paul enter, Cocoa and Nibs on their heels. “Now the party can start,” Dave jokes.

Derek snorts as he pulls the tray out of the oven and checks the temperature on the chicken. “This needs to rest, and then we can eat,” he announces. He then shoves the second tray in the oven with the other chickens and more vegetables.

Noah is glad that everyone is contributing to their food costs, because feeding the pack is a job in and of itself. 

“Anything we can do to help?” Paul asks.

Derek smiles briefly and shakes his head. “No, we’re good. We just need to carve the chickens in about ten minutes.”

“How long before you join us, Derek?” Dave asks.

Derek shrugs. “Three weeks before we finish the second module.”

As though the words had summoned him, Parrish is the next to arrive. He does knock briefly on the doorjamb, but they’ve at least trained him not to ring the doorbell.

“Hey,” Parrish says, still sounding a little tentative.

“Hey,” Derek replies, his face lighting up. “Glad you could make it.”

Parrish shrugs. “You’re feeding me, and I did bring beer,” he replies, holding up a couple of six packs.

“You’re my new favorite,” Dave announces. “Sheriff, I call dibs.”

“Mark already did,” Noah says with good humor. “And Tara has dibs on Derek, before you ask.”

Stiles comes up from the basement, where he’d been switching out loads of laundry. “Hey, favorite people,” he calls. 

Batman is out of his vest, so isn’t working, and he greets his doggie friends rapturously. “I’ll put them in the backyard,” Stiles says. 

The dogs happily follow him outside, and Derek starts to carve the chickens. Scott and Cora grab the plates and silverware without being asked. There aren’t so many people here at the moment to not fit at the table, so they all grab their food and sit.

“What’s new with everyone?” Noah asks.

Stiles shrugs. “I put my opponent on the ground in krav maga today.”

Scott grins and offers a fist bump from his place next to Stiles. “Good job, man.”

Stiles grins at him. “Thanks.”

“What about you, Scott?” Noah asks.

They go around the table like that, and it’s a mixed bag. Scott talks about the two adoptions, Cora about mastering her trig problems, Derek and Parrish about their classes, Moira says she’s finished her most recent knitting project—although she won’t say what it is. 

Noah knows that Christmas is coming, and Moira likes to knit gifts.

When he gets to Dave and Paul, Paul glances at Dave. “Well, it might be something, or it might be nothing,” Paul says slowly.

“Let’s hear it,” Noah replies.

“We took the dogs for a run in the Preserve this afternoon,” Paul says slowly. “I’ve caught the scent of coyotes there before, but it was stronger today, and—I think there might be a were.”

“A were-coyote like you?” Noah asks.

Paul nods. “I can’t be sure, but yeah, I think so. The thing is, sir, I wouldn’t have gotten that strong of a scent if they weren’t living in the Preserve.”

“And what would a were-coyote be doing living in the Preserve?” Noah asks.

Cora clears her throat. “If they’re a were-coyote, they might have gotten stuck in the full shift, especially if the first transformation was traumatic.”

That jogs Noah’s memory, and he says, “I’ll go into the station with you two tonight. There’s an unsolved case I want to take a second look at.”

Paul frowns. “Wait, you’re not thinking about the Tate girl’s disappearance, are you?”

Noah shrugs. “I don’t remember when the accident occurred, but if it was during the full moon…”

Stiles perks up at that. “Malia Tate?”

Noah knows that Malia had been about Stiles’ age when she disappeared, and he nods. “Did you know her?”

“I knew of her,” Stiles replies. 

Scott nods slowly. “I remember her, too. Wasn’t there a car crash?”

“That’s what we thought at the time,” Noah admits. “We found the car and the bodies of Mrs. Tate and the youngest daughter, but there was no sign of Malia. There were signs of predation on the car, so we assumed that something had dragged Malia’s body out of the wreck.”

“As I recall, we never found her remains,” Paul comments. “Or any other signs of foul play.”

Noah nods. “That’s right. All signs pointed to a car accident, causes unknown, and a wild animal dragging off Malia’s body.”

“So, what are you going to do if you do find her and she’s stuck?” Scott asks.

Noah glances at Moira, who shrugs. “There are ways to do force her to change back,” Moira admits. “It could mean your dad flashing his eyes and howling at her, or it could mean that Paul goes out in his fur and transforms in front of her to lead her back.”

“I’d be willing to try,” Paul says dubiously. “I kind of think the Sheriff would have more success.”

“First we have to confirm that the accident happened on the full moon,” Noah says.

“Are you going to tell Mr. Tate, Dad?” Stiles asks.

Noah shakes his head definitively. “No. I don’t want to give him false hope. Even if we get confirmation that Malia is out there, I’m not telling him until she’s in human form again.”

Noah can only imagine what it would feel like to be told that your entire family died in a car wreck, and then to be given hope that your child is actually alive but their whereabouts are unknown. He’s not going to tell Tate anything until he can present the man’s daughter to him.

The oven dings, and Boyd, Isaac, and Erica enter a second later. “Impeccable timing, as usual,” Noah murmurs.

Derek pulls the second tray out of the oven and says, “This needs to rest for about ten minutes.”

Noah stands and begins to clear his plate. “Let’s make some room.”

Dave and Paul stand as well, and Dave glances at Stiles. “Do you mind keeping the dogs with you tonight?”

“No, that’s fine,” Stiles replies. “Batman can have a sleepover.”

Noah puts an arm around Erica’s shoulders. “How was work?”

“Boring,” Erica replies. “Which is how I like it.”

Noah claps Isaac on the shoulder and does the same for Boyd. “And you two?”

“Same,” Isaac says. 

Boyd just shrugs. “There were two hockey games and a birthday party at the rink.”

“I’m going into the station tonight with Dave and Paul in case you need anything,” Noah says.

“We have homework to do,” Isaac replies. “But then we’ll probably head home.”

“Cora’s staying with me tonight,” Erica comments.

“Try not to stay up too late,” Noah teases.

“We could say the same to you,” Boyd replies with a smile. “We’re young and bounce back faster.”

“I’m also the Alpha,” Noah counters dryly. “Be good,” he says as he leaves, dropping a kiss on the top of Stiles’ head.

“I always am,” Stiles replies with a crooked grin.

Noah just snorts. “Sure, you are.”

They drive separately to the station, and Noah parks and strides inside. He hadn’t taken his uniform off yet, and he supposes that’s a good thing. Noah is anxious to review the file to see if he’s remembering the facts correctly. If the accident occurred on a full moon, there’s a chance Malia might be out there. That, or it’s some kind of feral were-coyote they don’t know about.

Noah knows where the box is in the evidence locker, and he makes a beeline for it. Dave and Paul meet him in his office, each of them with a cup of coffee.

“I’ll get the file,” Paul says. “You can pull up the lunar calendar, sir.”

Since Noah’s computer is the closest, that makes sense, and he boots it up. To his surprise, Tara pokes her head in as Paul flips through the case file while Dave holds up an evidence bag for further inspection.

“You have tonight off,” Noah says pointedly.

“You came back to the station for a reason,” she replies. “I happened to be outside when you drove by.”

Noah knows just how close to the station she lives. “Yes, and?”

“And you wouldn’t have come back unless there was something going on,” Tara points out. “And four noses are better than three.”

She isn’t in uniform, and Noah knows that means she’s there as a pack member, rather than a deputy.

“We’re looking into the Tate case again,” Noah replies, knowing that she’ll recognize it, too. “Paul ran across what he thinks might be a were-coyote living out in the Preserve.”

Tara frowns. “Malia’s body was never found. Surely, Mr. Tate would have known, though.”

“Not necessarily,” Paul murmurs. “If she’s born, not bitten, and Tate’s not the father, he might not know. Hell, if the mom was a born coyote and never told Tate, he wouldn’t even suspect.” He taps the file. “Here we go. March 3 of that year.”

Noah quickly types in the date to check on whether there was a full moon that night, and there was. “We need to get out to the Preserve.”

“There was a full moon?” Dave queries.

Noah nods. “We at least need to rule it out.”

“We were close to the crash site when I caught the scent earlier today,” Paul admits. “I think we should start there.”

The nice thing about having everyone in the station in the know is that Noah can pause in front of Maria’s desk to say, “We have something we need to check out in the Preserve.”

Maria nods. “Sounds good, Sheriff. I’ll be here holding down the fort.”

Tara rides with Noah, and Dave and Paul follow in Dave’s vehicle. She clears her throat. “I hope you don’t mind that I ducked out of dinner tonight.”

Noah chuckles. “Tara, unless I make it an order, I don’t care if you skip family dinners. It’s good for the kids, and I include Derek in that, but you have your own life.”

“I like the kids,” Tara says with a rueful smile. “But I never wanted any of my own. I don’t know how you do it, sir.”

“I just kind of fell into it,” Noah admits. “And I’m grateful to both Moira and Mel for their help.”

Tara hesitates. “You know, things have changed around the station.”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Noah admits slowly as he navigates a turn in the road.

“It feels more like a family than ever, and not in a bad way,” Tara says quickly. “More like the kind of family you choose, rather than the one you’re born into.”

“We’re first responders,” Noah says after a pause. He wants to keep the station professional, but he can’t deny that there’s a brotherhood—and sisterhood—in law enforcement. Layer on the fact that they’re also pack, well.

It’s probably always going to feel like a family, and Noah is going to have to be careful about who he hires, because it will be even more important that they fit in.

“It’s still different since you became the Alpha,” Tara insists. “It’s just a different vibe.”

Noah can’t say he’s noticed a difference, but then he’s always viewed everyone in the station as his people, much as he did in the Army. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Tara laughs. “We always knew that you cared about us, sir. Or maybe it’s just that I’m a member of your pack.”

Noah pulls up to the trailhead closest to the accident site and parks, unclipping his flashlight from his belt. “All right, let’s see if we can find this coyote.”

“Do you really think it’s Malia Tate?” Tara asks.

“I have no idea,” Noah admits. “But it’s worth checking out. We’ll either find a coyote or solve a cold case.”

Dave and Paul have also parked, and they have their flashlights out as well. Tara is dressed for a run in leggings, tennis shoes, and a sweatshirt. 

“I’ll let you take the lead, Paul, since you were the one to catch the scent,” Noah says.

Paul nods. “Yeah, we’ll go to the scene of the accident to start. I should be able to pick up the trail there.”

The location of the accident is only about fifty yards off the road. Noah assumes that Evelyn Tate lost control and then came to a stop when she died.

The car has long been towed away, but the location of the site is easy to find. Paul sniffs the air, then transforms into his coyote form, letting out a yip.

“Right, let’s do this,” Noah says.

Paul puts his nose to the ground and begins to move quickly, and Noah and his deputies follow. He leads them to a nearby cave, and there’s a coyote in the mouth of the cave, growling. 

As soon as they approach, the coyote starts snarling and snapping, clearly warning them off.

Paul yips and then transforms, crouching down at the cave entrance. “Hey, it’s okay. No one here is going to hurt you. Whatever happened, no one is angry with you.”

The coyote snarls and snaps some more, clearly uninterested in what Paul is selling.

“You try,” Paul says, looking at Noah as he backs away from the cave. “She’s not listening to me.”

“Right, what did Moira say? Flash my eyes and howl?” Noah asks rhetorically. He takes Paul’s place and brings out his Alpha, flashing his red eyes and letting out a roar that silences the coyote.

She whimpers, and suddenly there’s a teenage girl in the coyote’s place, and she’s naked.

“Oh, hell,” Noah says and immediately strips off his jacket, putting it over her. “We have to get her to the hospital.”

“Give her to me, Sheriff,” Tara says. “I’ll tell Mel the truth, but we can tell everyone that I found her wandering in the woods when I was out for a run.”

“And then you called me,” Noah agrees. “I’ll drive. Paul, Dave, good work. Sorry you won’t get the credit.”

“We don’t need credit, not when you know what we did,” Dave says.

Tara picks Malia up and holds her close as she sobs.

Noah feels bad that he’s basically traumatized a kid, but it’s not like they could leave her in the Preserve once they knew. “Grab her things,” Noah orders. “She might want them later.”

They jog back to their vehicle, and Tara climbs into the backseat with Malia. Noah puts on the lights and sirens the way he would for any medical emergency.

Malia is still crying softly in the backseat, and Tara murmurs, “I know, baby. It’s a hard transition. You’re going to be fine, though. It’s just going to take a little bit of time.”

Noah doesn’t know about that—the kid spent years in the woods, feral. He doesn’t think it’s going to be an easy adjustment.

He pulls up in front of the ER doors and sees medical personnel coming out with a gurney. Noah assumes that either Dave or Paul had called ahead.

Tara gently places Malia on it, and Mel is right there. “What do we have here, Sheriff?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” Noah admits. “But I believe that’s Malia Tate, and she’s been missing for years now.”

Mel gives him a sharp look, and she must see something in his expression that has her nodding. “All right, we have a seventeen year old female, found wandering in the Preserve after being missing for eight years.”

Noah watches as the gurney disappears into the ER, and he turns to Tara. “Will you stay and provide Mel with the details? Someone is going to have to tell Henry Tate that we found his missing daughter.”

“How are you going to explain it?” Tara asks.

Noah shakes his head. “I don’t know yet. I’m going to see how reasonable he is—but tell Mel that it would probably be best if Malia is unconscious when he arrives.”

“Sure thing,” Tara promises. “Good luck, Sheriff.”

Noah nods, and then gets back into his vehicle. He dials Paul’s number and asks, “Can you get me Tate’s address?”

“You going to do the notification?” Paul asks.

“I think I owe him that,” Noah replies. “But I’m going to leave out the were-coyote part until I can assess how receptive he’s going to be.”

Paul clears his throat. “I think that’s wise, sir. I did a little bit of reading  in the file, and noticed something I missed earlier. Malia Tate was adopted.”

“Ah, hell,” Noah mutters. “I’d forgotten that detail. Was the younger daughter adopted as well?”

“The file doesn’t say, but I don’t think so,” Paul replies. “That could complicate the dynamics.”

“It might,” Noah agrees with a heavy sigh. “That means his adoptive daughter is responsible for the deaths of his wife and biological daughter, and maybe that shouldn’t matter…”

“But it would to some,” Paul replies. “I’ll text you the address. Good luck, sir, and let us know if you need backup.”

Before Noah heads to Tate’s house, he texts his kid. Gotta make a notification. I’ll be home late.

did u find her?

I did, but it’s complicated. Noah pauses, then adds, I love you.

love u 2

Noah takes a deep breath, and the heads for Tate’s house. He has no idea how he’s going to explain tonight’s events to the man, but he figures that he can fall back on ignorance. If this had been a normal disappearance, Noah would just tell a parent that they would need to investigate and to be grateful that their love one is safe as they wait for answers.

Noah has no idea whether Tate will accept that explanation.

He pulls up in front of a small house that shows signs of disrepair, and he takes a deep breath. He’s glad that he’s still in uniform, because he would have needed to go changed otherwise. He doesn’t want the allegation that he had delayed.

He climbs out of his vehicle and goes up to the front door, hearing a dog barking fiercely. Tate opens the door as he’s in the process of knocking and asks abruptly, “What?”

“I’m not sure if you remember me, Mr. Tate, but—“

“I remember you,” Tate almost snarls. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“We found your daughter, Malia, in the woods earlier this evening,” Noah says. “She’s in the hospital getting checked out now, and the investigation is ongoing. We won’t know what happened to her for a while.”

Tate blinks at him. “Malia is alive? She’s okay?”

“She’s in stable condition, and she’s going to make a full recovery,” Noah promises. “I came straight here from the ER.”

Tate glances down at himself, having come to the door in boxers and a white t-shirt. “I, uh, I should get changed. Sorry. Give me a minute.”

“Take your time,” Noah replies. “I’ll wait here.”

Noah has no idea how Tate is going to respond to the idea that his kid is a were-coyote, but he’s going to guess the answer is “not well.” Still, Noah doesn’t really have a choice about telling Tate that Malia is alive.

Tate steps out of the house, and the pugnacious look is back for some reason. Noah doesn’t know if that’s always been his natural state, or if tragedy has altered his personality. “I can drive myself, Sheriff.”

“As you like,” Noah replies.

He’s certainly not going to argue, and he leads the way back to the hospital. Tara is more than capable of handling Tate, but Noah has a bad feeling about this whole thing.

Noah parks outside the ER, and he waits for Tate to park, then follows him inside the hospital.

Mel is speaking with Tara in the waiting area, and she looks past Tate to meet Noah’s eyes, then turns to him when Noah nods.

“Mr. Tate?” Mel asks.

He nods. “How is she? How’s Malia?”

“She’s a little dehydrated, and a little malnourished, but she’s going to be just fine,” Mel assures him. “Come back with me.”

Noah stands next to Tara. “Any update?”

“She seems disoriented,” Tara admits, “and she says she doesn’t remember much, which isn’t too surprising, given the traumatic nature of her initial shift. I don’t know whether she’ll get those memories back eventually or not.”

Noah grimaces. “I don’t think Tate is going to like that much. He’s hostile.”

“What did you tell him?” Tara asks.

“That the investigation is ongoing, and we aren’t sure exactly what happened,” Noah replies. “I don’t think he’s going to be able to handle the news she’s a were-coyote.”

“We can’t all be you or Mark, Sheriff,” Tara points out. “Most people wouldn’t respond well, and if Malia comes clean, he’s going to find out that she’s partly responsible for the deaths of his wife and other daughter.”

He sighs. “I know. All right, I’m going to station a deputy outside her room, just to keep an eye on things. It’s expected, and I want someone close just in case.”

Tara nods. “I’ll stick around here until my relief arrives.”

“Thanks, Tara,” Noah replies. “I appreciate your help tonight.”

Noah goes back to the station and has a quick word with Paul. “We need to station someone at the hospital. I notified Tate, but he’s hostile, and I’m not sure she’s entirely safe with her father.”

Paul nods slowly. “I’ll send someone in. Thank you, sir.”

“You did a good thing,” Noah replies. “Whatever the outcome, you helped bring a kid home and solve a cold case.”

Paul smiles. “Thanks.”

Noah heads home, and it’s late enough now that most of the kids have left. Stiles’ Jeep and Derek’s Camaro are still parked out front, but the rest of the vehicles are gone.

He parks in the driveway, wanting nothing more than to give his kid a hug and be grateful that he’s at home and in one piece. Derek and Stiles are in the living room when he enters, sharing a bowl of popcorn between them, and watching something on TV.

Stiles immediately passes the bowl of popcorn to Derek and stands when Noah enters, and then pulls Noah into a tight hug. “She’s gonna be okay, Dad. We’ll figure things out.”

Noah hugs back tightly. “Thanks, kiddo.”

But he doesn’t let go, not for a long time.

~~~~~

Stiles wakes up earlier than he’d like, with Batman stretched out next to him on his bed. Stiles can feel the heat radiating from Batman’s furry form, and his legs are anchored on either side by Cocoa and Nibs. Anytime Dave leaves his dogs with Stiles overnight, he always winds up with all three in his bed, and Stiles can’t even say he minds.

His dad will always say that he didn’t think the bed was big enough for the four of them, but somehow, they always fit, and Stiles always sleeps really well.

There’s a soft knock on his door, and then Derek pokes his head inside. “Dave and Paul are here.”

Stiles sighs. He would like more sleep, but he’s up, and he can get a run in before the day really starts. He’s been doing more conditioning, both for his martial arts and his magic, and he’s noticed a difference in his stamina. “Yeah, I’m up. Be down in a minute.”

He checks the weather and pulls on gym shorts, a hoodie, and tennis shoes, then heads downstairs.

The dogs race ahead, and Cocoa and Nibs greet Dave rapturously, as though it’s been days, rather than hours. Stiles sees that Derek is dressed much the same way as him, and he raises his eyebrows.

“I was awake,” Derek says in explanation. 

After so long living in each other’s pockets, nothing more needs to be said.

“Thanks for keeping these guys last night, Stiles,” Dave says as he straightens from giving out belly rubs. “I hate leaving them home alone when we’re both working.”

“No big deal,” Stiles says easily. “We had a good time, and you guys solved a cold case.”

Paul grimaces. “Not much of a solve, really. That poor kid is going to have to live with what she did for the rest of her life.”

“I still think it’s better than living as a coyote in the woods,” Dave asserts. “People put out poison and traps regularly. We could have found her body after she got into something like that, and then we’d never know what happened, and neither would her father.”

“Fair,” Paul replies. “But yeah, thanks for keeping the boys, Stiles.”

“Anytime,” Stiles says easily. “I don’t mind a bit.”

They take off, probably to get some sleep, and Stiles turns to Derek. “You ready to go?”

Derek nods. “Sure.”

Stiles clips Batman’s leash on his collar, but he doesn’t bother with the vest. If they end up stopping for donuts, which almost always happens after a Sunday morning run, Stiles will stay outside while Derek gets the baked goods.

He and Derek keep a steady pace as they run their usual route through the neighborhood and into the Preserve. 

“You didn’t say how your meeting with Lydia Martin went,” Derek comments.

Stiles shrugs. “She’s a banshee, and Moira is going to contact someone who can help her get control of her powers. I don’t know. She was nicer than she usually is.”

“Maybe she’ll finally give you the time of day,” Derek teases.

Stiles snorts. “Maybe, but I’m not holding my breath.”

Derek glances over at him. “You’ve changed. I’m sure she’s noticed.”

Stiles figures that he has changed, but those changes mean that Stiles is better about drawing boundaries, and establishing what he needs and wants out of a relationship. He won’t rule out something with Lydia, but he’s not going to lower his standards either.

Whether Lydia knows it or not, Stiles knows he’s a catch.

“I have changed,” Stiles agrees. “Which means that if I’m going to date anyone, it’s going to be someone who values everything I bring to the table.”

“You deserve that,” Derek replies. “Everyone does.”

Stiles can’t disagree, and while he would like to get his rocks off, he thinks there might not be any in between for him. Either it’s a casual relationship where he’s just fucking around, or it’s serious.

They run past the bakery, and Derek ducks inside to grab a dozen donuts while Stiles waits outside with Batman. Parrish pulls up, and he says, “Hey, Stiles.”

“Hey, Parrish,” Stiles says. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to grab a coffee, and thought I’d offer a ride home,” Parrish offers. “Did you have a good run?”

“Yeah, it was good,” Stiles replies.

Parrish sits next to Batman on the curb and asks, “Is this okay?”

“He’s off duty, so yeah,” Stiles replies, appreciating the fact that he asks.

Parrish scratches the top of Batman’s head. “He’s a great dog.”

“Yeah, he is,” Stiles agrees. “How are you settling in to Beacon Hills?”

Parrish shrugs. “I’m looking forward to finishing the next module so I can start the next phase.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Stiles replies.

“Are you applying for colleges?” Parrish asks.

Stiles shrugs. “I took the PSATs, and my scores were good, and the SATs and ACTs are next. I want to make sure all of my options are open.”

“Better than I did,” Parrish says with a grin. “I went straight into the Army after high school.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Stiles replies. “That’s what my dad did.”

“Talk about aspirations,” Parrish jokes.

Derek emerges from the bakery with a box of donuts. “Parrish, hey. Coffee?”

Derek has a tray of to-go cups in one hand and a donut box in the other, and Parrish hops up to take the tray from him. “Thanks, Derek.”

“I heard you out here with Stiles,” Derek admits. “I hope black is okay.”

“It’s perfect,” Parrish replies, taking his cup and handing the tray to Stiles. 

That cup has a “CM” written on the side, and Stiles grins. “Derek, you shouldn’t have.”

“I have no idea how you manage to metabolize that amount of sugar,” Derek says. “A caramel macchiato and a donut?”

“Butterscotch Long John,” Stiles corrects him. “And I have magic. I can burn through a lot.”

He willingly gets into the back of Parrish’s truck. It’s fairly massive, and Stiles kind of wonders how he managed to afford the vehicle on a bartender’s wages.

As though reading Stiles’ mind, Parrish says, “Separation pay and VA disability, plus hazard pay.”

Stiles blinks. “What?”

“That’s how I paid for the truck,” Parrish replies. “Everyone wonders.”

Stiles doesn’t bother trying to deny it. “It’s a nice truck.”

Batman sits on the floor next to Stiles as they head back to the house. “How are things going with the new house?” Stiles asks.

“Debris has been cleared away, and they started framing,” Derek replies. “I guess we’ll see what happens, but they get a bonus if they come in on time.”

“How big is this house going to be?” Parrish asks.

“Pretty big,” Derek replies. “Six bedrooms, six baths, and room to expand into the basement. And the porch, when the weather is nice.”

Parrish chuckles. “So, the entire pack?”

“Maybe not the entire pack,” Derek replies. “It depends on how big we get, I guess, but big enough that the people who want to stay close can.”

“There are always going to be pack members who want to live separately, and those who want to be under the same roof,” Stiles inserts. “We’ll make room for both.”

There’s a pause, and Parrish says, “I like being at the Sheriff’s house. It’s nice.”

Stiles knows that Parrish doesn’t have a family, and he suspects that those who join the pack and don’t have anyone else might gravitate towards the pack house. Those who have stable families, or who are otherwise more solitary—like Tara—won’t.

As he said, there’s room for both.

When Parrish pulls up in front of the house, Stiles can see Isaac’s car, as well as Erica’s. He figures that means Isaac, Boyd, Erica, and Cora are there.

“Stiles!” Erica calls. “We thought you’d be home.”

Stiles shrugs. “We went for a run, and Parrish drove us home. We have donuts.”

As a distraction, it works great, because Stiles gets the chance to go upstairs and get cleaned up quickly. He knows Derek is going to want to shower, too, so Stiles keeps it short. He’s hoping for either a better hot water heater or some other solution in the new house.

Once he’s out, Derek takes his place, and Stiles heads downstairs with his homework. Parrish has brought his own coursework, and Stiles asks, “Has anyone heard from Scott?”

“Yeah, he should be here around noon,” Isaac replies. “Mrs. McCall said she’d make enchiladas.”

There are groans from everyone who’s had her enchiladas. “Is it my birthday?” Boyd jokes.

“No, but it is mine,” Erica shoots back. “Next week, anyway. Mrs. McCall asked if there was anything I wanted, and that’s what I asked for.”

Stiles frowns. “How did I not know that? Wait, I need to get everyone’s birthdays into my phone.” He unlocks his phone and hands it to Erica. “You first.”

“Why do you need to know our birthdays?” Boyd asks suspiciously.

Stiles frowns at him. “Obviously for birthday shenanigans appropriate to the individual. For example, Erica would love a surprise party; you, on the other hand, would prefer a pot roast.”

Boyd nods slowly. “I do love a pot roast.”

“And Isaac gets a new scarf,” Stiles jokes.

Isaac blushes and mutters, “Shut up.”

Cora grins. “And what would appropriate birthday shenanigans be for me?”

“A mani-pedi,” Stiles says without having to think about it. “Probably with Erica.”

Cora nods. “Fair.”

Stiles gets everyone’s birthdays into his phone, and then passes it to Parrish. “You, too.”

Parrish frowns. “You don’t know me well enough for birthday shenanigans.”

“Not yet,” Stiles counters. “It’s only a matter of time, though.”

Parrish gamely takes Stiles’ phone and puts in his contact information. “For the record, it’s chocolate cake.”

Stiles nods. “Can do.” He turns to Cora. “When is Derek’s birthday?”

“November 7th,” Cora replies. 

Stiles grins. “Excellent. We still have time then.”

“Time for what?” Derek asks as he enters the dining room.

“To celebrate your birthday,” Cora supplies when Stiles doesn’t immediately reply. “It’s Erica’s next week.”

Derek frowns. “That’s really not necessary.”

“Tough,” Stiles replies. “Everyone in the pack deserves to have a birthday celebration.”

Noah comes into the dining room at that moment. “For what it’s worth, I agree with Stiles.” He ruffles Stiles’ hair, then drops a kiss on the top of his head. “Who’s having a birthday?”

“Erica, next week,” Stiles says promptly. “Mrs. McCall is making enchiladas for lunch.”

“We’re all grateful for your request,” Noah says with a smile.

“There are donuts,” Stiles offers.

“Thanks, kiddo,” his dad replies. “I think I’ll do paperwork here before I check on the Tates.”

They all settle down around the table with their homework. Derek and Parrish have their coursework for the police academy, and his dad grabs his laptop and settles down at the table as well to review reports.

The silence is companionable and easy silence. Stiles helps the others in between his own tasks, and then Scott turns up around noon. “Little help?” he calls from the front door.

Stiles pops up to assist, and there are two pans of enchiladas, one with a green sauce, one with red. “Beef and bean, and chicken?” Stiles asks when he looks at them.

Scott nods. “Mom supervised, but I was the one to make them.”

Stiles offers a fist bump. “Great job, dude.”

Scott grins, clearly pleased with himself. “I brought my homework for after lunch. These need about 30 minutes in the oven once it heats up.”

Stiles gets the oven preheating, and they clear off the table and start to put out plates and cutlery. Stiles grabs a tub of veggies out of the fridge to put on the table.

When the enchiladas come out of the oven, they dish up in the kitchen and they all sit down around the table, which is just big enough to fit all of them. The enchiladas are delicious—both kinds.

“Scott, man, these are great,” Stiles says.

Erica looks at him. “Wait, you made these?”

“Mom supervised, but yeah,” Scott admits. “Stiles and Derek have a handle on cooking, but they shouldn’t be on the hook all the time, so I thought I’d step up my game.”

“Really good job,” Erica says. “They’re just as good as your mom’s.”

Everyone echoes that compliment, and Scott blushes. “Thanks, guys.”

Stiles has to admit that he’s impressed, and it feels as though Scott is really stepping up to help the pack. “Really good job, Scott,” his dad says quietly. “You should be proud of yourself.”

There aren’t many leftovers, but they put what’s left in the fridge. They get started back up on their homework, and his dad leaves for the hospital and/or station. Mid-afternoon, Moira comes by. “Hello, my darlings. Stiles, are you at a stopping point?”

He’d known Moira would be there that afternoon for their regular magic lesson, and he’s already wrapped it up, focusing on helping the others. “Yeah, I’m ready. Are we going over to the Mahealanis’?”

“That’s the plan,” Moira replies. “Come along, mo chroi.” She waits until they’re in her car before asking, “And how are you?”

“Good,” Stiles replies. “Scott made enchiladas. He said he wanted to step up.”

Moira smiles. “That’s good!”

“It was nice,” Stiles says. “It feels like Scott is dialing in.”

“He’s meeting the rest of the pack where they are, rather than demanding that others meet him where he is,” Moira says, giving voice to Stiles’ feelings. “He’s maturing.”

“Isn’t that what we all do if given the chance?” Stiles asks.

“You would be surprised,” Moira replies. “There are plenty of people who never do, but I’m glad that Scott is.”

“What are we working on today?” Stiles asks.

“We’re going to be working with the rune stones to see if we can get a bead on the nogitsune,” Moira replies. “And then we’re going to go over protective spells.”

Stiles takes a deep breath. “That sounds good.”

The trip to the Mahealanis is a familiar one, and it doesn’t take long—not that any drive takes all that long within Beacon Hills. Danny meets them at the front door with raised eyebrows. “You two about set Lydia’s hair on fire.”

“We gave her answers,” Moira says crisply. “What she does with those answers is up to her, the same as what she does with the help she’s offered.”

“Fair,” Danny replies. “She was blowing up my phone yesterday. I think I might be one of the few friends Lydia still has.”

Stiles grimaces. “Well, she could make other friends if she put a little effort into it.”

Danny snorts. “So I’ve told her. Lydia has always been of the opinion that people should come to her, but the power dynamics are changing, and we’re all going off to college soon.”

“Truer words, my friend,” Stiles replies. 

“We’re outside again today,” Alana announces. “I’ve fired up the heat lamps, so we should be comfortable.”

“It’s not too bad,” Danny says in an undertone. “And I have a spare parka if you get cold.”

Moira chuckles. “Or you can pull heat up from the earth, young spark.”

“Is there a self-warming spell that won’t mean setting myself on fire?” Stiles jokes.

“If the heat lamps aren’t sufficient, I’ll show you how, but let’s cross that bridge when we come to it,” Moira replies, clearly amused.

“We don’t want to invite anything into the house,” Noelani says in explanation as they step outside. “And an evil spirit, such as the nogitsune, needs an opening. Sometimes, it requires an explicit invitation.”

“Moira mentioned a tattoo yesterday,” Stiles says.

“I’ve started mine,” Danny offers. “Our folkways have the means of protection.”

“So do mine,” Moira agrees. “But that’s for later. We can discuss it with the Alpha and the rest of the pack, and each person can decide for themselves whether they want to alter their bodies.”

“Fair enough,” Stiles says. “Bodily autonomy is an imperative.”

The backyard has several heat lamps stationed around their working area, and Alana apparently had them going for a while, because it’s quite comfortable. Stiles anchors the circle at the north, with Danny across from him, and Moira and Alana to the west and east, respectively.

Stiles is the anchor, since he’s best with the rune stones. They’ve been doing this on a weekly basis since the thing in the Nemeton escaped. 

Moira reaches into her bottomless bag and comes out with the ritual cloth and the leather bag. Stiles takes the bag and tosses it a couple of times, getting into the right head space.

He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and focuses on his intention. He wants answers, but he doesn’t want to invite anything in.

Stiles opens his eyes, meeting Danny’s warm gaze across the circle, and then he pours the rune stones out into his hand. He holds them for a moment before asking aloud, “Is the nogitsune still out there?”

He tosses the stones and gets thurisaz, hagalaz, and nauthiz face-up. “So, conflict, being tested or wrath, and more conflict. I think it’s safe to say it’s still out there, and still a threat.”

“Wrath is interesting,” Moira says slowly. “It might give us a clue as to its motivation.”

Stiles scoops up the rune stones. He holds them in his hand and asks, “How do we counter it?”

He tosses them again and gets algiz and mannaz. “Defense or group effort and probably friendship or cooperation in this configuration.”

“I agree,” Moira replies. “Well, we’ll definitely be working on our defensive magic, and we already have our ward stones adjusted to prevent entry to any evil spirits.”

Stiles picks up the rune stones again. “Should I ask anything about the Argents or the trial?”

“No,” Moira says definitively. “That has nothing to do with magic.”

“I figured,” Stiles admits. “Anything else?”

Moira pauses to think about it. “Ask if there’s anything else coming.”

Stiles dutifully asks the question and tosses the stones. “Othala, representing ancestry or heritage, dagaz, representing awakening, and berkana, femininity or birth?”

“So, yes, something else is coming, something that might be a little bit surprising,” Moira muses. “Something female.”

“Well, that should be interesting,” Stiles says.

“Now, let’s put those away, and we’ll start working on protective spells,” Alana says. “Noelani will get us started.”

Stiles rubs his hands together. Learning magic is still one of his favorite things to do.

~~~~~

Derek is graduating from the second module in a week, and then he’ll start working as a reserve officer. He and Parrish will need to be supervised, but at least they’ll be able to help out while they continue their training. After the third module, they’ll be fully fledged deputies. Derek is really looking forward to it.

He and Parrish had carpooled to class in his truck, so when the instructor asks Derek to stay back, Parrish hovers by the door to the classroom.

“You can stick around, too, Mr. Parrish,” Officer Jenkins says. “I wanted to be sure you both still have offers from the Beacon County Sheriff’s office. You’ve both been outstanding students.”

Derek feels relief. He hadn’t been sure where Officer Jenkins was going with his question. “Yes, sir. We’re both starting as reserve officers after graduation.”

Jenkins grins widely. “Good, I’m glad to hear that. Although, there are a lot of weird stories coming out of Beacon Hills.”

“Yes, sir,” Parrish says. “But Sheriff Stilinski is on top of things. He and his deputies have made me feel really welcome.”

Jenkins nods. “Good. I hope I get a chance to meet him one of these days.”

“Unless something comes up, he’s planning on being at our graduation next week,” Derek replies. 

Jenkins waves a hand. “I look forward to it.”

“What do you think that was about?” Parrish asks as they leave.

Derek shrugs. “I wasn’t sure, but I was hoping it wasn’t something that was going to prevent me from graduating.”

Parrish blows out a breath. “Man, that would suck, but we’re at the top of the class again, so I knew it wasn’t going to be that.” He pauses. “How is the house coming along?”

“Do you want to see?” Derek asks. “We can swing by when we get back to Beacon Hills.”

Jordan checks the time. “I have a shift at the bar tonight, but I should have time to swing by.”

“Great,” Derek says. “I’d love for you to see it.”

They chat idly on the drive back to Beacon Hills, mainly of their hopes for the future. Parrish had been in the National Guard, and had deployed once to Afghanistan. “Not that I think I’ll need it, but I did EOD in the Army, so it could come in handy if we ever do.”

Derek grimaces. “You never know. As Officer Jenkins pointed out, a lot of weird shit happens in Beacon Hills.”

“True,” Jordan agrees. “But the Sheriff does seem to have a handle on it.”

“So far,” Derek replies. He doesn’t want to invite any bad luck, and there’s no wood to knock on, so he’s not going to say that the Sheriff will always have a handle on things.

When they arrive at the new house, serious progress has been made. The framing appears to be completely finished, and they’ve started on the roof. The floor separating the main floor from the basement is done, so they step inside, starting to walk through the house. Derek can see where the kitchen will be, opening up into a large den by way of an eating area. The master bedroom—the Alpha’s bedroom—is also on the main floor, along with an ensuite bathroom.

There will be a second half-bath on the main floor as well, but the rest of the bedrooms will be upstairs, with additional places to sleep in the basement.

“This place is going to be gorgeous,” Jordan comments. “Do you know who’ll live here?”

“Stiles and Noah, of course,” Derek says. “Me and Cora, possibly Boyd and/or Isaac, although one or both might decide to keep the apartment, hard to say, and they haven’t made a decision yet. There will be an apartment over the garage for Moira, too, if she wants it.” 

Parrish looks around. “But it’s mostly a big enough place to gather, isn’t it?”

“That’s the idea,” Derek agrees. “We’re going to have a fire pit, a big barbecue, the whole thing. I think Noah is already looking into a custom-made table.”

“The kitchen is going to be pretty fantastic, I take it,” Parrish says.

Derek nods. “Both Moira and Stiles have opinions.”

“I’ll bet,” Jordan replies. “They seem the type. I think you’re doing a good thing here.”

“I hope so,” Derek says. “I hope my family knows that this is meant to honor them.”

“I’m sure they do,” Parrish replies, clapping him on the shoulder. “You could have left it alone, or razed it and planted a bunch of trees, which would have been valid, but instead you’re building something new.”

Sometimes, Derek wonders if his family would think that he’s trying to replace them, but then he reminds himself that they would understand the need to find a pack. And he thinks his mom would have really liked Noah. Jury is out on Laura, mostly because Derek thinks their personalities would clash.

Laura certainly wouldn’t have agreed to allow the Sheriff to do something that was basically his job, like investigate the murders of their family. Derek doesn’t allow himself to think about what might have happened had Laura approached the Sheriff.

But maybe she would have done that eventually. He doesn’t know, and he never will.

“Thanks,” Derek says. “If you need to take off, I think I’m going to walk home.”

“You sure?” Parrish asks. “Are you okay?”

Derek nods. “Yeah. I just want to clear my head.”

“All right, call if you need me,” Parrish says.

Derek knows that Stiles has joked about Derek making a friend, but in that moment, Derek knows that it’s true. Parrish isn’t his first ever friend, but is certainly the first friend he’s made as an adult.

Derek meanders back home, his duffel slung over his shoulder, glancing up at the waxing moon. The full moon is the day after their graduation, and Derek finds himself looking forward to it. 

It will mean a pack dinner with everyone present, people coming in and out of the house, and a night in the Preserve. It means time spent with friends and family, of having the bonds that connect them strengthened, of reminding themselves that being pack is joy.

There’s a light burning as Derek approaches the house, and he lets himself in, finding Scott and Stiles in the living room. “Come on, man, she’s cute!”

“She is cute,” Scott says defensively, “but I think you’re making too much of it.”

“She was looking at you with heart eyes,” Stiles protests, scratching Batman’s ears. The dog’s head is in Stiles’ lap. “I saw it!”

Derek dumps his duffel by the front door. “What’s up?”

“Hey, Derek,” Stiles says. “I thought maybe you got lost coming back from class.”

Derek laughs. “No, I just stopped by the new house with Parrish to see the progress, and I decided to walk home. What’s going on?”

“There’s a new girl at school, and the new history teacher in her dad,” Stiles says. “She has heart eyes for Scott.”

“Is she a werewolf hunter?” Derek asks.

Scott rolls his eyes, but there’s a hint of a smile on his face. “Her dad is a teacher, not an arms dealer.”

“She’s definitely not a hunter,” Stiles says with assurance. “But she might be something they’d hunt.”

Scott looks at Stiles. “How do you know?”

“I can’t put my finger on it,” Stiles admits with a shrug. “It’s just—she reminds me of Parrish or Lydia. I don’t think she’s entirely human.” Stiles pauses. “I should—probably talk to Moira about that, now that I think about it.”

“Why?” Derek asks.

“Because I did some casting with the runes yesterday, and they forecast the coming of someone or something, female-shaped, of a specific heritage, who might be awakening.”

Scott blinks at him. “So…you think Kira might be what you saw coming?”

Stiles shrugs. “It seems pretty coincidental if she’s not.” He starts to tap out a text message. “I’m letting her know, but I don’t think it’s any sort of emergency.”

“What about her dad?” Scott asks. “Do you think he’s something else, too?”

Stiles considers that question for a moment. “No, I wasn’t getting that feeling, but it could come from her mother’s line. The runes said there was ancestry involved.”

“As long as she’s not from a hunter family, I’m not sure it matters,” Scott mutters. “Because never again.”

“That’s progress,” Derek says.

Stiles snorts, and Scots shoots Derek a betrayed look. “It’s not like I knew what they were before we started dating, you know. I barely knew what I was.”

“It is progress, though,” Stiles points out. 

Scott sighs. “Yeah, I know. The safety of the pack has to come first. I get it. I’m not going to paint a target on our backs again.”

Derek barely refrains from exclaiming, “So, he can learn!” Instead, all he offers is, “I’m glad to hear that.” He decides that a subject change is in order and asks, “Where’s the rest of the pack tonight?”

Stiles shrugs. “Erica and Cora came over after school to do homework, but Erica’s parents wanted her home for dinner, and they invited Cora. Isaac and Boyd both had shifts, and said they were going home straight after.”

“Is your dad on shift?” Derek asks.

Stiles grimaces. “Yeah. They’re preparing for some mass murderer coming to Beacon Hills for surgery in two weeks, and there are a lot of safety measures they need to set up. I’m guessing that he’s going to be scarce until we’re through all of that.”

Derek winces. “He doesn’t need to come to our graduation, then.”

“Bite your tongue,” Stiles says mildly. “Dad is looking forward to it, and he won’t miss it unless there’s no choice.”

“Still, I feel like a mass murderer take precedence,” Derek replies.

Stiles snorts. “Maybe if he was going to be in Beacon Hills during the graduation, but he’s not, so don’t worry about it.”

Privately, Derek resolves not to be disappointed if Noah can’t make it for whatever reason.

Scott clears his throat and starts to pack up. “It’s getting late, and I should get home. See you tomorrow, Stiles.”

“See you,” Stiles says cheerfully. When Scott has left, Stiles continues petting his dog. “You know Dad isn’t going to miss it.”

“I still have the third module,” Derek counters. 

“Yeah, but after this one, you’ll be a reserve officer,” Stiles says. “How is the house looking?”

“The framing is pretty much done, and the roof is nearly there,” Derek replies. 

“I look forward to seeing it,” Stiles says.

Derek sits on the couch next to Stiles, and Batman shifts so that more of his body in on Stiles’ lap, and he can give Derek puppy-dog eyes. Derek smiles and scratches behind Batman’s ears. “It doesn’t bother you, does it? The location?”

Stiles shakes his head. “The new house might be located on the land where I was tortured, but it’s not going to be the same place.”

“I probably should have asked sooner,” Derek admits. “I’m sorry about that.”

“If I thought it was going to be a problem, I would have said something sooner,” Stiles replies, knocking his knee against Derek’s. “What has you so worried?”

Derek shakes his head. “I don’t know. Just a weird sense of dread.”

“Must be going around,” Stiles says. “I’ve been feeling much the same way, but the casting didn’t indicate that the thing in the Nemeton was currently a problem.”

“And how accurate is the casting?” Derek asks.

Stiles shrugs. “It’s been accurate before, but who knows? Magic has interfered with a casting before, too.”

Derek sighs. “Right.”

“Do you want ice cream?” Stiles asks. “Because there’s some in the freezer, and I kind of do.”

Derek frowns. “What kind of ice cream?”

“Butter pecan,” Stiles says. “And rocky road.”

“Rocky road,” Derek replies definitively. “That sounds good.”

Ice cream sounds like a great way to cap off the day.

~~~~~

Noah glances up at the knock on his door. He’s been working through the contingency plans for William Barrow’s arrival in Beacon Hills, and what they’re going to do to prevent any mishaps.

He plans on preparing for the worst even as he hopes for the best. He’s just a little put out that they’ve been saddled with Barrow’s surgery.

Noah is a little surprised to see Moira standing there, since they don’t have an appointment, and Noah doesn’t think there’s anything going on with his kid. “Come in,” he calls, and watches as Moira closes the door behind him. “What can I do for you?”

“I have some news,” Moira replies. “And since it involves Stiles, I wanted to talk to you first.”

Noah puts his pen down and leans back in his chair. “On a scale from one to five, how much am I going to hate this?”

"With one being not at all, and five being like hell on fire, probably about a two,” Moira admits. “I found information about your late wife’s family.”

Noah blinks and nods slowly. “Okay, I’m listening.”

“Her parents weren’t magical, so far as I could tell, which is probably why Claudia didn’t know what was going on with her,” Moira says gently, her expression full of compassion. “But her father’s mother was the oldest daughter of Jakub Gajos, who is on record as being one of the strongest sparks that we know of.”

“So, it was hard to trace because…” Noah says, trailing off.

“Because Agnieszka was stricken from the family tree after committing an act of violence against her younger brother,” Moira says. “We’ll never know exactly why. It might have been justified, or perhaps it was jealousy. But I found someone who knows a distant relative of Jakub, and they were able to get their hands on a family bible that still had Agnieszka’s name in the family tree.”

Noah shakes his head. “How on earth did you get to the bottom of it?”

“Stiles is uniquely powerful, and as I mentioned before, the Gajos name is not unknown in our community,” Moira replies. “I suspected that there might be a connection, but I couldn’t prove it until recently.”

Noah frowns. “Okay, I guess that’s reasonable, but why does that present a problem?”

“It’s not a problem, per se,” Moira hedges. “But it does present a question of sorts. A spark who doesn’t learn how to use their magic can have it turn inward, and if their magic turns against them, it can create symptoms very similar to frontotemporal dementia.”

Noah blows out a breath as the full import hits him. “Stiles was always afraid that he’d get the same thing.”

Moira shakes her head. “I doubt it. Stiles’ magic will be well trained, and it will protect him.”

And then the other part hits him. “Claudia could have been saved.”

“If her magic had been caught earlier, and if she’d received training, maybe,” Moira says. “But Noah, those are big ifs. In some ways, Stiles is lucky that his magic was triggered at the time and in the way that it was. It’s entirely possible that he could have done some small feat of magic and written it off as luck or happenstance. Because what he did was so obvious, both of you had to seek an explanation.”

“What would have happened then?” Noah asks hoarsely.

Moira shakes her head. “Maybe nothing. Maybe his magic would have been corrupted by another force, or damaged enough that he would never be able to use it. Or maybe it would have turned inward the way I suspect that it did for your wife.”

Noah blows out a breath, and he feels nothing but relief. He never thought he’d feel gratitude that a psychopath had kidnapped and tortured his kid, but the idea of losing Stiles the way he’d lost Claudia…

“Okay, well, I guess I can be grateful that it’s a moot point,” Noah says slowly. “What do I need to know about the family?”

“Probably nothing,” Moira admits. “As I said, Agniezska was stricken from the family tree. The remaining family has mostly dispersed, and I don’t think there are any magic users with Stiles’ strength.”

Noah is a little disappointed by that, but he supposes that between the pack, the station, and Stiles’ coven, they have plenty of family to go around. “All right,” Noah says. “Thanks for looking into this. I assume you’re going to tell Stiles.”

“I think we should tell him together,” Moira replies, “especially since it involves his mom. Knowing that he’s a descendant of a documented, powerful spark should give him peace of mind, both for the origin of his magic, and knowing that he’s unlikely to develop the same condition.”

Noah nods. “I agree. I can make time to do that tonight.”

Moira smiles. “I think it’s for the best. I don’t want to sit on this information for long.”

“I’ll plan on having dinner at the house,” Noah says. “We can talk to Stiles after.”

“That works for me,” Moira agrees.

When she leaves, Tara comes into the office. “Anything we should be concerned about, sir?”

“Just a bit of family business,” Noah says. “I’d like to talk to Stiles about it first, since it has to do with his mom.”

Tara nods in understanding. “What can I help with when it comes to the thing with Barrow?”

“I’m going to need the pack on guard,” Noah says. “I hate putting that on all of you, but I’m not taking any chances.”

Tara nods. “I don’t think we’d let you do it any other way.”

“All right, let’s game this out,” Noah says.

There’s a small conference room, and Noah has taped a copy of the blueprints for the hospital to a white board. He’s marked where Barrow will enter, the OR where the surgery will take place, and the recovery room.

Tara has followed him in, and Mark is close behind, a cup of coffee in his hand. “No fewer than four deputies at the hospital at all times,” Mark says, and takes a sip of coffee. “Two on his room, and one on either end of the hallway.”

“I’ve been assured that they can keep that area clear of other patients,” Noah says in agreement. “So, that tracks.”

“Why the hell are they sending him here?” Tara mutters.

“I had that question, too,” Noah says. “But he’s in Eichen House, and the other hospitals in the area have refused to treat him. County doesn’t have that luxury.”

Mark snorts. “County always gets the shaft.”

“I want contingency plans,” Noah says. “We know Barrow is dangerous, and he’s not going to have a better chance to escape. Once he’s back in Eichen House, he’s going to be stuck.”

Tara crosses her arms. “And what do you think he’ll do if he manages to escape?”

“He blew up a school bus full of kids,” Noah says. “I would rather not give him a chance of a repeat offense. He’s in Eichen House because he was deemed incompetent to stand trial.”

Tara clears her throat. “Okay, how about this? We station two deputies outside the room, and werewolves outside the hospital.”

Noah hums thoughtfully. “That should be doable. Derek can assist as a reserve officer, but that’s going to leave us stretched fairly thin.”

“I don’t think there’s any way around it, sir,” Mark comments. “I agree that we can’t afford to let Barrow escape, and if he does, we’re going to need to lock down the schools.”

Noah nods. “All right, Mark, would you put together the schedule? I’ll approve it once you’re done, and we’ll post it this evening. I need to go have dinner with my kid.”

Tara gives him a look. “Good luck, sir.”

“It’ll be fine,” Noah replies. “Hopefully, Stiles takes it as good news.”

He drives back to the house, doing the mental math at what to expect by counting the cars outside. Stiles’ Jeep and Derek’s Camaro are parked in the driveway and on the street, respectively, with Scott’s bike right behind the Jeep. Noah also sees Isaac’s sedan, but that doesn’t tell him much, since he frequently gives rides to other pack members. Moira’s Prius is also there, as expected. 

When he enters, he hears sound coming from the dining room and kitchen, and Noah heads for the kitchen. 

Moira is there, and Noah catches the scent of chili bubbling away. “Smells good. Do you need any help?”

She shakes her head. “I’m just letting the flavors marry while the cornbread bakes.” 

Noah pokes his head into the dining room and sees all of the younger pack members sitting around the table, working on homework. Boyd, Isaac, and Stiles are typing on laptops, Scott, Erica, and Cora appear to be working on math problems, and Derek is reading through a police manual.

“Everyone good here?” Noah asks.

“Hey, Dad,” Stiles says, looking up from his laptop screen. “Moira said you guys had something to discuss with me after dinner?”

“Nothing bad,” Noah quickly assures him. “And I’ll probably head back to the station after that.”

Stiles grimaces sympathetically. “Is this about the thing with Barrow?”

Noah nods. “That’s right. Derek, we’re probably going to need you on rotation outside the hospital. We’re not taking any chances with this guy.”

Derek looks up from his book. “Of course. Whatever you need.”

Noah heads up to his office, and puts his gun belt in the safe. He’ll be putting it on again shortly, but it’s uncomfortable to wear while sitting around, and he’s not about to leave his gun unsecured.

Once he’s done with that, he heads back downstairs to find that Moira has pulled the cornbread muffins out of the oven, and the kids are packing up their homework. 

Noah gets the bowls out of the cupboard, and Moira has already set out the various toppings: saltine crackers, shredded cheese, sour cream, and green onions. Noah grabs the butter from the fridge, and the honey from the pantry, and then he sets the paper plates on the counter.

As is typical for Moira, the chili and cornbread are both delicious, and Noah notices that the chili is heavy on the beans and veggies. The kids are chattering as they fill their bowls and grab whatever toppings they would like. 

Isaac, Boyd, and Scott are talking about the next cross country meet, and giving each other a hard time about running fast but not too fast. Erica sniffs. “I still don’t understand why you’re running for fun.”

“That’s Coach’s rule,” Scott protests. “If we want to play lacrosse in the spring, we have to do cross country in the fall.”

“Lacrosse is stupid,” Cora mutters. “You’re throwing a ball around with a little net.”

“It’s fun!” Isaac protests. “And it looks good on college applications.”

“That’s enough,” Noah says mildly, not wanting the bickering to get out of hand. “Everyone gets to pick their own extracurricular activities.”

“Maybe you should pick an after-school activity,” Moira suggests. 

Cora snorts. “Like what?”

“What do you like to do?” Moira asks. “Or maybe you’d rather pick up a job? Or a volunteer activity? Something that you’d find meaningful.”

Cora frowns at that. “Meaningful?”

“I think what I heard you say was that you didn’t see the point of lacrosse because it doesn’t feel meaningful,” Moira says carefully. “So, maybe doing something for others, or working towards building a particular skill would be interesting.”

Derek clears his throat. “Are you and Erica still talking about opening a spa here in town?”

Cora shrugs. “It’s probably a pipe dream.”

“You could join the Future Business Leaders of America with Erica,” Derek points out. “Start building those skills.”

Cora glances at Erica. “What do you think?”

“I didn’t think I’d survive to adulthood, so I haven’t really given much thought to extracurricular activities,” Erica admits freely. “We could check it out. If we hate it, we don’t have to continue.”

“Maybe you should talk to the school counselor and see what’s available,” Moira suggests. “You can try things out together and see what sticks. The boys enjoy lacrosse, and Stiles enjoys martial arts. Just because you’re all pack doesn’t mean you all have to do the same things, or enjoy the same things.”

Boyd raises his eyebrows. “You could try drama club. That would fit.”

“I am not that dramatic!” Erica immediately protests.

Scott, Boyd, and Isaac all look at each other, and all of them hold up a hand, thumb and index finger about an inch apart. “Little bit,” Boyd teases.

Noah notices that Stiles is mostly staying out of it, and he sees Stiles’ hand drift down to Batman’s head every so often, a grounding gesture that suggests he’s feeling anxious.

He finishes his meal, Moira finishes hers, and then Derek leans in close to Stiles and murmurs something in his ear before giving Noah a significant look.

“Yeah, thanks, Der,” Stiles murmurs in response.

Noah pushes back from the table. “Let’s go up to my office.”

That causes the rest of the pack to go silent, and Noah gives them all a look that he hopes is reassuring. “It’s nothing dire, guys. I’m sure Stiles will fill you all in once we’re done.”

“I’ll make sure the kitchen gets cleaned up,” Derek says firmly.

Noah leads the way to his office, and Stiles takes the chair, while Moira perches on the edge of the desk. “I discovered the source of your magic, Stiles,” she says gently. “Your great-great-grandfather was one of the strongest documented sparks that I know of—that anyone knows of. You descend from one of his daughters.”

“Why would she still have the last name of Gajos?” Stiles asks. “I thought most women of that era would change their last name.”

“Because her son was born out of wedlock, and as far as I know, she never married,” Moira says gently. “Agnieszka came to the United States as a young mother, claiming to be a widow.”

Stiles nods slowly. “So, my mom’s family had magic. You—you think my mom had magic.”

“I believe she did, yes,” Moira says gently. “And I think that magic turned inward and thus turned against her.”

“That’s why…” Stiles trails off, blinking rapidly. “She could have been saved.”

“I doubt it, Stiles,” Moira says. “I doubt there was anyone in your mom’s life who would have been able to recognize magic or the supernatural.” She pauses. “Think about Malia. No one knew that she was a were-coyote. What would they have done if she transformed in front of them?”

Stiles grimaces. “Nothing good.”

“I know it doesn’t feel like it, but in many ways, you were lucky,” Moira says, still in that same gentle voice. “Your magic manifested early, and in such a way that your dad felt compelled to seek help. You will never be placed in the same position that your mom was.”

Stiles’ breath hitches. “I’m not…”

Noah has a lot of regrets in his life, but chief among them is leaving Stiles in the hospital while his mother was dying. He’d been perched next to Moira on the edge of the desk, and now he pulls Stiles into a tight hug. “You’re not going down the same road, kiddo. You’re going to be fine.”

Stiles presses his face against the side of Noah’s neck as he shudders. Noah cups the back of Stiles’ head and says, “You’re okay.”

Stiles shakes his head. “I’m afraid that whatever was in the Nemeton is going to come after me, Dad. That it will use my brain against me.”

Noah looks at Moira. “Realistic?”

“It’s possible,” Moira admits. “Stiles is a spark, and that magic burns brightly. It might attract the wrong sort of attention.”

“What can we do to prevent that?” Noah asks.

Moira hesitates. “You’re not going to like it.”

“I promise I’ll like it a hell of a lot more than the thought of Stiles being possessed,” Noah says.

Moira’s smiles is humorless. “There’s a tattoo that will help protect him. We could do it for the entire pack, but the werewolves are going to be harder.”

Noah doesn’t like it, but he asks, “Will it work for just this threat, or for multiple threats?”

“It will protect him against anything that tries to use him as a meat puppet,” Moira says in a wry tone of voice that pulls a watery chuckle out of Stiles.

Stiles pulls back, wiping at his eyes. “I’m okay.”

“Yes to the tattoo,” Noah says, but he presses his hand against the side of Stiles’ face. “I want you to talk to Jack about this whole thing, okay?”

Stiles nods. “Promise.”

“I had no idea you were harboring this much fear,” Noah admits.

Stiles shrugs. “I just—I didn’t want to say it out loud. I felt like it would make it more real.”

Noah sighs. “Okay. I do have to go back to the station to sign off on Mark’s schedule, but I’ll be back.” He glances at Moira. “I’ll sign whatever permission slip I need to sign for the tattoo.”

“We’ll go to San Francisco in a couple of days,” Moira says. “I think the sooner we get this done, the better.”

“I’d like you to take someone with you—Derek, Dave, Paul, or Tara,” Noah replies.

Moira frowns. “I can handle myself.”

Noah shrugs. “Forgive me, but Gerard Argent just died in prison, and I’m not taking any chances with my kid.”

Moira nods. “Fair.”

Noah looks into Stiles’ eyes. “I always knew you were magic, kiddo. I’m just glad it can protect you.”

Stiles manages a smile. “Thanks, Dad.”

Noah kisses his forehead. “I’ll see you in a bit, unless you’re asleep when I get home.”

He’s somehow unsurprised to see Derek stationed outside of his office. “I can go to SF,” he admits. “I have my final exams, but I’m ready for them.”

“Thank you,” Noah insists. “Look after him?”

“Sure,” Derek agrees easily. “Not a problem at all.”

Noah pats him on the shoulder. “Good man.”

And maybe Noah’s life is that much more complicated, but he can’t regret any of his choices.

Chapter Text

Stiles spots Kira making shy heart eyes at Scott across the cafeteria, and he’s at a point where he really thinks that he’ll be doing everyone a favor if he puts Scott out of his misery.

“Hold my soda,” Stiles tells Erica. “I’m going in.”

“Oh, my god, finally,” Erica replies. “Thank you.”

“Ditto,” Cora agrees.

Scott just looks alarmed. “What? What are you doing?”

“I’m doing you a solid,” Stiles replies. “You can thank me later.”

He does literally hand Erica his can of Coke and crosses the cafeteria to where Kira is sitting by herself. She seems slightly alarmed by his appearance. “Hi,” Stiles says. “I’m Stiles, which you’ve probably figured out by now. My buddy, Scott, over there is kind of shy, so he wasn’t going to come over here himself. If you don’t want to eat alone, you can join us. If you like eating by yourself, no shame.”

Kira blinks at him. “Um, thank you?”

Stiles smiles. “Come join us. I promise no one bites.”

Kira bobs her head. “Okay. Thanks.”

Stiles returns to their table, and Scott hisses, “Stiles! What did you do?”

“I invited her to join us,” Stiles says easily. “Relax, be cool. She’s heading our way.”

Scott straightens and tries to school his expression into something resembling “cool” without much success. Isaac and Boyd snicker, and Erica says, “Scoot over, Boyd.”

Boyd dutifully scoots, and Erica and Cora make room for Kira between them. “Um, hi,” Kira says.

Cora pats the seat between them. “Have a seat. I’m Cora.”

“Kira,” she replies, and sits down across from Scott.

Erica smiles. “I’m Erica, and finally, we’re approaching equal numbers. You’re going to be our friend.”

It’s not even a question; it’s a statement of fact.

“Thanks?” Kira offers.

The others around the table introduce themselves, and Stiles notices that Scott keeps avoiding Kira’s eyes. 

“So, Kira, where are you from?” Stiles asks.

“New York City,” Kira replies briefly.

“Your dad is a great teacher,” Stiles offers.

Kira smiles, flashing rather adorable dimples. She’s not Stiles’ type, but he’s committed to being a good wingman as long as the potential date isn’t a werewolf hunter. “Thanks. It’s nice to know that other people think so, too, since I always have.”

“He’s makes it really interesting,” Scott admits, apparently recognizing the conversational softball that Stiles has just lobbed in his direction. “I didn’t even think I liked history.”

Kira glances up, and her eyes meet Scott’s, and Stiles heaves a sigh of relief as the connection visibly flares. “Dad really does know how to make it interesting,” Kira says, and then they’re off.

Stiles is sitting next to Scott with Isaac on Scott’s other side, and he accepts the fist bump Isaac offers behind Scott’s back.

“You should come study with us,” Erica says cheerfully once their lunch period ends. “We usually gather at Stiles’ house if you don’t mind eating with the Sheriff—but he’s super nice.”

“That would probably make my parents feel more comfortable,” Kira jokes. “Also, I know I’m not supposed to pet service animals, but yours is really cute, Stiles.”

Stiles rests a hand on Batman’s head. “His name is Batman, but we refer to him as Bruce while he’s working.”

“That’s awesome,” Kira gushes. 

Scott clears his throat. “We have cross country this afternoon, but maybe you’d want to come study with us tomorrow?”

“That would be really great,” Kira replies. “Thank you.”

“Hey, it’s cool,” Scott says quickly. “We like new p-friends.”

Stiles just knows that Scott had nearly said that they like new pack members, and while he would agree with the sentiment, there are strict rules for a reason.

Scott shoots him an apologetic look as they split off from the group towards their respective lockers. “I’m sorry,” Scott mutters. “It’s just—“

“She’s really pretty and clearly very into you,” Stiles says in an undertone. “And she’s definitely not a hunter. I do think it’s smart to invite her over sooner rather than later, and to have Moira take a look.”

Scott nods. “I know. I don’t want to get my hopes up too soon.” He takes a deep breath. “Are you still doing that thing after school?”

“I am definitely doing the thing,” Stiles says. “It feels necessary. Are you thinking about it?”

“Thinking,” Scott agrees. “And I do want a tattoo, but—not that.”

“You shouldn’t do it unless you’re sure,” Stiles says.

Scott nods. “Yeah, that’s what I figured. I can always change my mind later, right?”

“Any time you want,” Stiles replies. “I just—need the insurance.”

“Totally get it, dude,” Scott says, clapping him on the shoulder. “And—thanks, for giving me the push.”

Stiles feels like he and Scott are finally getting back on solid ground, and he feels pretty cheerful the rest of the day. When the final bell rings, Stiles confirms that everyone has a ride to their respective destinations, and then he heads home.

He’s not surprised to see Moira’s car parked in the driveway, and he knows she’s planning on driving him to her friend’s tattoo parlor in San Francisco. The plan is for them to stay at a motel that night and drive back the next morning, allowing Stiles to attend afternoon classes.

Stiles enters the house with Batman in tow, and he heads up the stairs to drop his backpack and grab his overnight kit. He heads back downstairs with Batman at his heels and finds Moira and Derek in the kitchen. For the first time, Stiles registers the scent of warm cookies.

Moira hands him a napkin wrapped around a couple of cookies, and Stiles inhales the scent. “Oh, wow, these smell good.”

“We’ll get dinner after we’ve completed our errand,” Moira announces.

“I’m going with you,” Derek announces.

Stiles frowns. “Come on, dude, you have finals!”

Derek just gives him a very unimpressed look. “I studied all day, and I’m going. Noah isn’t sure how the hunter community is going to deal with Gerard’s death, and he doesn’t want to take any chances. Also, I want to go.”

Derek says that so definitively that Stiles knows arguing would be absolutely pointless, and he holds up his hands. “Yeah, okay.”

“I’m coming, too,” Cora says from behind Stiles, causing him to jump.

“Jesus fucking Christ, make some noise!” Stiles says, his heart hammering in his chest even as Batman presses himself against his leg.

Cora grimaces. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just needed to run an errand after school, and I wasn’t sure if I would be back in time.”

“We have a little time yet,” Moira says. “Go grab your things, and I’ll grab a couple of cookies for you.”

Cora thunders up the stairs, and Moira gives him a concerned look. “Are you that on edge, mo chroi?”

Stiles shrugs. “I don’t know. I just know I’ll feel a lot better when I know that this is done.”

Moira nods. “That’s why we’re doing it today.”

Stiles knows that, but it helps to hear it.

Cora comes back into the kitchen with her backpack on. “I’m good to go.”

“Come then,” Moira says, handing Cora a napkin wrapped around a couple of cookies. “Let’s get a move on.”

The Prius is a bit of a tight fit for the four of them. Derek takes the front passenger seat, and Batman sits between Stiles and Cora in the backseat.

Since they’re just going to be in the car for a couple of hours, Stiles has taken off Batman’s vest, and he glances at Cora. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Cora laughs. “I don’t mind.”

Batman takes that as permission to sprawl across both their laps, his head in Stiles’ lap, legs splayed over Cora’s in a way that shouldn’t be comfortable, but he goes right to sleep.

“He thinks he’s a lapdog when he’s not on duty,” Cora says as she finishes her second cookie, and rests a hand on the dog’s back.

“He’s usually pretty good at finding a lap or two,” Stiles agrees.

Moira looks in the rearview mirror. “You two comfortable back there?”

“About as comfortable as we can be with 80 pounds of dog on our laps,” Stiles jokes, but he really doesn’t mind. Having Batman as a warm weight, in a car heading away from Beacon Hills and whatever came out of the Nemeton, makes him feel a hell of a lot better, at least in the moment.

Stiles loves his dad, and he loves his pack, but there’s part of him that has seriously considered working towards early graduation.

Moira just smiles. “We’ll be there soon enough.”

Stiles strokes Batman’s ears, and Moira says, “Tell me about your classes, Derek. Do you feel ready for finals?”

“I studied all day, so I think so,” Derek replies. “Plus, the possibility of disappointing Noah looms large for me and Parrish.”

Stiles leans his head back against the seat. He’s tired, and being a passenger in a moving vehicle always makes him sleepy. Having his dog in his lap just magnifies it. He leans his head against the window, and he’s out like a light.

He doesn’t wake up until they come to a stop, and Batman shoves his wet nose into Stiles’ hand. “Huh? What?”

Batman whines.

“Are we here?” Stiles asks sleepily.

“We’re here,” Moira replies. “You still good?”

Stiles blinks the sleep out of his eyes. “Yeah, I’m good. It was a nice nap.”

“You looked like you needed it,” Cora comments, not unkindly. 

Stiles cranes his neck to get the crick out. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

“We’re parked about a block away,” Moira says. “Batman will need his vest.”

Stiles nods. “Right, yeah.” He still feels a little foggy, but he puts Batman’s vest back on, and they walk the block or so to the tattoo parlor. The sign is turned to “closed,” but there’s a doorbell, which Moira presses.

There’s a beep as the door lock disengages, and Moira ushers them into the shop before closing the door behind her.

“Moira, it’s been too long!” the man says with outstretched hands. He’s thin and wiry, several inches shorter than Stiles with rainbow hair,  and he’s absolutely covered in tattoos. Since he’s just wearing a leather vest and no shirt, Stiles can see his full sleeves and chest piece, as well as the metal glinting from his ears and nipples. On his pale skin, the colors of his tattoos stand out.

“Iwan, you’re looking well,” Moira replies. “And even more colorful than the last time I saw you.”

Iwan laughs. “Gotta keep up with the latest trends, even if it’s just a new line here or there. I heard you took on an apprentice.”

Moira puts a hand on Stiles’ shoulder to nudge him forward. “This is Stiles Stilinski. I did have his father fill out the permission slip you sent.”

Iwan cocks an eyebrow. “I appreciate that. I’ve also called the Sheriff. I don’t like to take risks when it comes to minors.”

Stiles clears his throat. “Are you sure you won’t get into trouble?”

Iwan shrugs. “You’ll find that while the law may technically prevent people from doing certain things, someone still needs to enforce that law. So, when you’re asked who gave you the tattoo?”

“A friend of the family when we were out of state,” Stiles says readily.

“The due diligence on parental consent just ensures that your dad doesn’t bring the law down on me, but Moira explained the need,” Iwan says. “So, come on back. You’ll need to take your shirt off. A heart placement would serve you best, and will be easier to hide, too.”

Stiles follows him back to the room, and tries not to mind that Derek, Cora, and Moira follow. He’s not exactly ashamed of his body, and he knows that he’s put on some muscle definition between judo and krav maga, but he’s got nothing on Derek.

And then he takes off his t-shirt, and Cora wolf-whistles. “Damn, Stiles.”

Stiles feels his face heat. “Shut up,” he says weakly.

Cora shrugs unrepentantly. “Just calling it like I see it.”

Stiles does see the reproving look Derek sends his sister’s way, and he sits down in the chair as directed by Iwan. “All right, you two,” Iwan says. “I’m using magic, so I need you to move over there.”

He points to a spot on one side of the room. Stiles looks closer at the floor, and realizes that the concrete has an inlaid, well-constructed protective circle. “How do I get one of these?”

“Time and money,” Iwan says with amusement. “It took me a lot of time to create the grooves in the floor, and a lot of money to get sufficient metal to fill those grooves.”

Stiles sighs. “I’ll put that on my wish list. How do we do this?”

“Think about your magic, Stiles,” Iwan says. “Moira will anchor the circle, while I ink. You’ll feel this in your magic, so don’t freak out, okay?”

“I promise I will try very hard not to freak out,” Stiles says. “Is it okay if Batman stays in the circle?”

Iwan kneels down in front of Batman, then extends a hand and allows a flame to grow above his palm. “What say you, boyo?

Batman sneezes and gives Iwan a very unimpressed look.

“Ah, and I think this good boy will be more than fine, and might keep you calmer,” Iwan says. “A magical tattoo is not the same as a regular tat, and—bluntly—if you need to keep it hidden, you can ask that of it, and it will obey your magic.”

Stiles blinks. “Okay. Wow. That’s—more than I expected.”

“There’s a reason Moira contacted me,” Iwan replies. “There are times when you may need to deal with someone, and you don’t want them to know you’re protected.”

“Can you do the same for me?” Derek asks.

Iwan hesitates. “Let me see how I do with this one. There are other ways to tattoo a werewolf than using fire, but that will depend on Stiles’ magic.”

“I want to protect myself in the same way that Stiles is protected,” Derek asserts. “If it takes fire, I’ll endure it.”

“Understood,” Iwan says. “I’ve prepared for that possibility, but I’d prefer to follow a gentler path if possible.”

Derek nods, but he looks unhappy. Stiles hopes that he can ease his worry later.

“I want the same,” Cora asserts.

“Again, let’s see how this first one goes,” Iwan says. “Moira, if you would take his hand. Stiles, it might help to have Batman on your lap.”

The reclining chair has room for Batman to hop up, resting his head on Stiles’ thigh while stretching out between his legs. Moira takes Stiles’ right hand and presses her other hand against his bare shoulder.

“Believe in Iwan’s work, mo chroi,” she murmurs. “That’s why I’ve brought you here. He is the best at what he does. Just relax into the process. I’ll be right here.”

Stiles nods. “I believe you, and I believe in your magic.”

“Believe in your magic,” Moira replies. “The strength of the protection is fueled by your faith.”

Iwan presses the transfer paper on Stiles’ left pectoral muscle, outlining a pentagram with runes at each point: isa, algiz, laguz, dagaz, and sowilo. As Iwan starts to outline and fill in the pentagram, Stiles focuses his magic on the ink, on creating protection from anything or anyone that might mean him harm by invading his mind. Once the pentagram is done, Stiles focuses on the meaning of each rune in turn: clarity, protection, intuition, certainty, and cleansing. As Iwan finishes, Stiles feels a flash in his mind, and he knows that it’s taken full effect.

“Well done,” Moira murmurs. “Both of you. I can feel it.”

Iwan shakes out his hand. “I have to be honest, I don’t think I’ve ever inked a stronger defense. Then again, I’ve never worked with a spark before.”

Moira gives him a quelling look. “That’s not for public consumption.”

“I would never,” Iwan says immediately. “I keep my clients’ secrets.” He puts a hand over the tattoo on Stiles’ chest, and Stiles feels his skin warm. Iwan’s magic feels inviting, and not intrusive at all. “How is that?”

Stiles takes a deep breath. “There’s no lingering pain at all.” He pauses. “You trained with Moira at one point, didn’t you?”

Iwan smiles. “Felt that, did you? Yes, we trained together for a few years, but our paths diverged. I preferred putting my magic into the ink.”

Stiles nods. “It feels good.”

“Do you think you could do it again, but for someone else?” Iwan asks.

Stiles immediately understands what he’s being asked. “If you’re wondering whether I could do it for Derek and Cora, yeah. They’re part of my pack. I want to protect them.”

Iwan glances at Derek. “I’d prefer to try it this way first. If it doesn’t work, we’ll go the old fashioned way.”

Stiles gets off the chair and pulls his shirt back on, even as Derek strips out of his. Derek’s chest and abs look like they’ve been sculpted out of marble, and Stiles does his best not to stare.

Cora smirks at Stiles, and he tries to ignore her. He can’t help his response; Derek is beautiful, inside and out.

Derek just gives Stiles a steady look. “I trust you.”

Stiles swallows. “Okay.”

Once Derek is seated in the chair, Stiles clicks his tongue at Batman, and Batman takes the same position that he had for Stiles. 

“I’ll be fine,” Derek says dryly.

“Shut up,” Stiles says. “I’m sharing my dog with you. Besides, he’s…”

“A help to you,” Iwan supplies when Stiles’ trails off. “It won’t be appropriate to include him in ritual magic, but something like this? He’ll be a way to keep you focused and others relaxed. He has a very steadying presence.”

Stiles nods. “I’ve noticed that, too.”

“All right, Stiles, Derek’s healing factor typically makes a tattoo very difficult to do on a werewolf. There are ways around it, and most would use fire, but I think your magic is familiar enough to Derek that you can slip past it by convincing his body that this is welcome.”

“It is welcome,” Derek insists.

Stiles glances up at Moira. “What do you think?”

“The sky’s the limit, mo chroi,” Moira murmurs. “You know that for yourself at this point. Derek wants this.”

“I need it,” Derek corrects her. “Jennifer Blake wouldn’t have been able to do what she did if I had protection like this.”

Moira nods slowly. “That is likely true. You would have at least had warning that she was trying to influence your mind.”

Derek’s jaw firms. “I’m ready.”

“It’s the same general principle,” Iwan tells Stiles. “But you want to think about what you’re offering Derek. Have you placed wards before?”

Stiles nods. “I have.”

“Same intent applies here,” Iwan says.

Stiles puts a hand on Derek’s left shoulder, and Moira takes the position on Derek’s right. Cora stays where she is outside the circle, and Stiles belatedly realizes that they’d created a quasi-circle.

Not that it matters, because what they’re doing isn’t part of a ritual, but part of Stiles’ magic. Stiles, who’s a spark and can do the impossible.

The tattoo gun starts up, and Stiles pushes his magic into Derek, thinking about the tattoo like a ward, and the ink takes, blooming on Derek’s skin.

That’s not the end of things, though, and Stiles knows that. Derek needs stronger protection, something that would never allow anyone to take advantage of him again.

Stiles thinks about Derek’s wolf, about how a wolf senses a predator, and he connects the protective ward to Derek’s instincts.

Iwan has sweat beading his forehead by the end of it. “Fucking hell, Stiles. That was absolutely masterful.”

“How does it feel?” Stiles asks Derek.

Derek flushes. “Great.”

Iwan clears his throat. “Let me get you a bottle of water.”

Stiles suddenly realizes two things simultaneously: Derek is having a physical reaction, and Stiles needs to pretend that it’s not happening.

“I could use some water myself,” Stiles says. “I’ll go with you, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind,” Iwan says. “I have some sodas, too. Cora? Moira?”

“Water for me,” Moira replies.

Cora shrugs. “I’d take a soda. Stiles knows what I like.”

Stiles doesn’t know Iwan, but something about the man makes him whisper, “Should I be worried?”

“Sharing magic like that—“ Iwan sighs. “There was no other way to do it, but Derek would have felt how much you care about him, and how much you want to protect him. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Stiles shakes his head. “That’s not what it feels like in the moment.”

“Stiles.”

That’s Derek’s voice, and Iwan grabs a few bottles of water from the fridge in what’s probably the break room for the tattoo parlor.

Iwan nods and disappears, and Stiles turns to face Derek. “I’m sorry.”

Derek just shakes his head. “You don’t have anything to apologize for. Iwan was right. I could feel your care for me, and for the pack, and now I feel—I know that I’m not going to have another situation like the one with Jennifer. That’s more than I could have asked for.”

“It’s what you deserve,” Stiles says shortly.

Derek shrugs. “Yeah, well. I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable.”

Stiles blinks. “I’m not—dude. I’m seventeen years old. A stiff breeze could do it.”

Derek barks a laugh. “Yeah, okay. It’s clear your ego needs no help when it comes to your magic.”

Stiles holds his palm open and pulls a flicker of flame into it. “My magic speaks for itself.”

Derek touches his chest where the tattoo is hidden by his t-shirt. “Yeah, it does. Cora still wants you to try if you’re up for it.”

Stiles rests his hand on Batman’s head where he’s pressed against his leg, and he nods. “Yeah. I’m five by five.”

~~~~~

Derek had worried that things with Stiles would be awkward, especially with them sharing a hotel room that night, with Cora and Moira in the adjoining room. Stiles seems the same as ever, though, and he announces his intention to shower. “Unless you want to go first,” Stiles offers.

Derek shakes his head. “No, go ahead.”

Stiles removes Batman’s vest, and the dog gives a brisk shake before hopping up on the bed next to Derek.

He’s noticed that if Batman isn’t on duty, he tends to gravitate towards a pack member if Stiles isn’t available. Batman likes people—including werewolves, and he rolls over on his back to invite belly rubs.

Derek is no more immune than anyone else in the pack, and he obliges as Batman’s tongue lolls out in a doggy grin. “Who’s a good boy?” Derek asks, and Batman chuffs, as if to reply, “I am.”

Stiles emerges from the bathroom fifteen minutes later wearing a pair of flannel pants and a t-shirt. “All yours, Derek.”

“About earlier,” Derek begins.

Stiles holds up a hand. “Already forgotten.”

Derek decides to drop it at that point, not want to make him more uncomfortable. “Do you think the others will get the tattoo?” he asks instead.

Stiles shrugs. “I don’t know. The only person I’ve really talked about it with is Scott, and he said he wanted a tattoo, but not this one. I don’t know that anyone else really thinks of themselves as a target.”

“But you do,” Derek says.

Stiles shrugs. “So do you. So did Cora, apparently.”

“Pretty sure she got hers out of solidarity with me,” Derek admits as Stiles stretches out on the second queen-size bed. The hotel isn’t anything fancy, but it’s clean and comfortable, and that’s really all they need.

Batman rolls over and switches beds, stretching out next to Stiles with the same invitation for a belly rub. Stiles, of course, obliges. “I think it’s good,” Stiles says. “It means she’s willing to follow you.”

“She does seem to be settling in,” Derek agrees. “But you had a lot to do with that, Stiles. If she felt anything from your magic like I felt tonight…”

He trails off, and Stiles just clears his throat. “Yeah, well, I love the pack.”

“That much is obvious,” Derek replies, and he doesn’t say anything else.

Stiles goes to sleep shortly after that, and Derek takes his own shower and grabs one of his textbooks to get a little more studying in. Stiles snuffles and inches closer to Batman, but doesn’t appear to be waking.

Derek probably should try to get some sleep, but he’s still feeling keyed up. Stiles’ magic had felt like touching a live wire, but without pain. Maybe he should have known the depths of Stiles’ feelings, but he hadn’t.

Or maybe Derek had just felt the power of Stiles’ magic fully for the first time, and if that’s what his magic routinely feels like, Derek can’t quite believe that he doesn’t have more things coming after him for a taste of it.

Eventually, the procedure manual has the soporific effect that Derek is looking for, and he turns out the light. He’d been concerned that he wouldn’t be able to sleep away from the pack house, but having Stiles’ and Batman’s heartbeats so close makes up for it.

There’s a breakfast buffet at the motel, and they eat before heading back to Beacon Hills. Moira drops Stiles and Cora off at the high school, and then glances over at Derek. “Are you okay? I didn’t really get the chance to check in with you last night.”

“Just embarrassed,” Derek admits. “But Stiles said that he’s fine.”

Moira sighs. “I won’t tell you not to be embarrassed, but I do believe that Stiles took it in stride. He certainly wasn’t offended.”

“It wasn’t—I wouldn’t want anyone to think…” Derek stops. “I don’t want to be inappropriate.”

“What you had was a physical reaction to Stiles’ magic,” Moira says dryly. “And now you know why I made sure that Stiles request for a protective tattoo was authorized. He would be quite the meal for anything that managed to possess him.”

“Do you think that’s a possibility?” Derek asks.

“Let’s just say that I’d rather be safe than sorry,” Moira says grimly. “And I think it might just be biding its time.”

Derek touches his chest right over where the tattoo is, and he’s grateful that Moira is taking such great care. “What about the other pack members?”

“Between their bonds with Stiles and Noah, and their ties to their wolves, I doubt they’ll be in danger,” Moira says. “It would be a precaution, but not a necessary one. It was necessary for your peace of mind. For Cora, it was a show of support to you, and I imagine it’s another tie.”

Derek can’t argue with that, and then Moira is dropping him off. He studies the rest of the day and well into the evening. The next day, he and Parrish drive to the college together to take their final exams for the module. In spite of the semi-impromptu break, Derek feels confident as he’s taking the test.

“How do you think you did?” Parrish asks as they leave.

Derek shrugs. “I feel pretty good. You?”

“I feel great,” Parrish replies. “I might even beat your score this time.”

Derek scoffs. “You wish,” but the teasing is easy and comfortable. 

“So, what were you doing in San Francisco?” Parrish asks.

“Moira knows someone there who can do tattoos, magical ones,” Derek admits. “I wanted the protection.”

Parrish frowns. “They make those?”

“According to Moira, they do,” Derek replies. “You want to stop in at the station once we’re back in town?”

Parrish nods. “Yeah, I do. Kind of nice to know that we’ll both be working there soon.”

Derek smiles, and can’t help but agree. He’s been working towards this goal for a while, and it feels like the next phase of his life is beginning.

They’d taken Derek’s Camaro this time, and Derek pulls up in front of the station a little after the dinner hour. Derek isn’t sure if Noah will be there, or if he’ll be eating, but the dispatcher for the shift, Maria, grins as she spots them.

“Did you guys finish your finals?” she asks.

Somehow, the whole station knows that today is exam day, and they’ve expressed a proprietary interest.

“We did,” Parrish replies.

“I’m sure you did great,” Maria replies. “Head on back to the conference room. The Sheriff is going over the plan with Tara and Mark, and he’ll be glad to see you.”

He and Parrish make their way to the conference room, and they’re met with welcoming smiles. “How did your finals go?” Noah asks.

Derek shrugs. “Good, I think. I feel pretty confident.”

“And I feel very confident that I got first place this round,” Parrish adds.

That calls a laugh from everyone, and Tara offers him a fist bump.

“We’ll see,” Derek grumbles, but he’s also smiling.

“We’re lucking out,” Noah comments, “getting the two of you. If you can wait a bit for dinner, we’ll go over the plan for Barrow’s surgery, since I’m going to need the help.”

Parrish’s grin is blinding. “Sure, of course.”

Derek also nods. “Happy to help.”

They have contacts at the hospital other than Melissa now, and Noah has a good handle on who’s going to be on duty, and what their roles are going to be. Derek notices that Noah has him outside the hospital, and Parrish in the corridor with Mark.

“Derek, you’re going to be with Tara, and Parrish, you’re with Mark,” Noah says. “At least for a little while, then I’ll switch you around so you can get exposure to different styles.”

Derek knows that it’s probably for their benefit to be exposed to a variety of perspectives. “That sounds good,” Derek says when Noah seems to be waiting for a response.

“Yeah, I’m good with that,” Parrish says quickly. “Whatever you want, sir.”

Noah doesn’t bother trying to correct him, or ask Parrish to use his first name. Derek already knows that’s not going to happen, at least not while they’re at the station.

“Good,” Noah says. “We’ll go to the graduation on Saturday, and your first shifts are Sunday. Barrow’s surgery is Tuesday, so that gives you a couple of days to get acclimated.”

Derek has no problem with that plan, and once Noah is certain that they understand their roles, he says, “Let’s get out of here. Stiles said he was putting something together for you two.”

Parrish flushes. “He didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s a significant milestone, Jordan,” Noah replies kindly. “And we know that. It will be good to have you two on board. We need the help, and the fresh blood.”

Derek drives Parrish to his place so he can pick up his truck, and then to the Sheriff’s house. The night air is cool, but Derek can hear sounds from the backyard as soon as he pulls up, so he figures they’re grilling.

Sure enough, they have heat lamps set up around the back patio, and there’s the smell of meat and smoke. It seems like the whole pack is present—all of the kids, Dave and Paul, Tara, Moira, and Melissa.

“Hey,” Dave calls. “How did it go?”

“Good, I think,” Derek replies, hoping that he’s not being stupidly overconfident.

“Don’t front, dude,” Stiles says, turning a couple of burgers. “You’ve been working hard. I’m sure you did great. Is Parrish coming?”

“Right behind him,” Parrish says. “You really didn’t have to go to the trouble, Stiles.”

Stiles snorts. “Come on, any excuse to have a party, right?”

Derek has noticed that Stiles does use about any excuse to have a pack get-together. Whether that’s making a big meal, ordering food, or having a barbecue, any reason is reason enough.

Looking around the backyard, Derek still can’t quite wrap his head around the fact that he gets to have a pack again, let alone a pack of this size. It’s large and sprawling, and growing at a steady pace.

It doesn’t just feel like family; it feels like a community, and that gives Derek hope for turning Beacon Hills into a sanctuary town.

Stiles starts pulling the burgers and hot dogs off the grill, putting them in a large, foil pan. “All right, food is going to be inside. Everybody make up a plate and grab a seat wherever you like.”

There are tubs of deli salads in the kitchen, as well as buns and condiments, and Derek grabs a paper plate. He finds himself at the dining room table with Jordan, Noah, and his deputies, as well as Mel and Moira. The kids troop back outside to eat in the backyard.

“So, what’s next, Derek?” Mel asks.

“It will be a few days before we get our exam results, and then graduation, and then we start at the station part-time,” Derek replies. 

“And you?” Mel asks Parrish.

“The same,” he admits. “I have to say, I never expected to graduate and find something like this.” He waves his hand to indicate the pack.

“I’m not sure anyone expects this,” Noah comments. “I certainly didn’t, although I’m not complaining.”

As people finish eating, or need to get to their shifts—Mel, Paul, and Dave—they start to disperse. Cora is spending the night at Erica’s, and Isaac and Boyd head to their apartment. Tara and Parrish head home, and Derek thinks this might be one of the reasons that Stiles uses any excuse to have a party. It’s a chance for everyone to be together and bond.

Eventually, that just leaves Derek, Noah, Stiles, Scott, and Moira. “How did things go yesterday?” Noah asks. “I haven’t had the chance to ask.”

Stiles shrugs. “I have ink, and I feel a lot more secure. It was pretty interesting, to be honest, and Iwan seems cool. I wouldn’t mind working with him again.”

“He’s already texted me,” Moira admits. “Iwan has offered to pay you for your time if he has any other special requests, like with Derek and Cora.”

Stiles brightens at that. “That would be cool. I don’t have any desire to become a tattoo artist, but the warding part…”

“You have a real affinity for wards,” Moira agrees. “Speaking of, we should probably set up some additional wards at the new house.”

Stiles nods eagerly. “Yeah, sure. I have some ideas about that.”

Derek leans into the feeling of pack over the next few days as he waits for the examination results. He meets with his financial advisor and checks on the progress for the build.

Three days later, Derek has his results, and he’s at the top of the class again, but only by half a point; Parrish is right behind him. Noah is chuffed.

“We’re going out to dinner,” Noah announces, and then takes him and Parrish out to the nicest steakhouse in the area. “Order whatever you want, the cost is on me.”

“Noah,” Derek begins.

Noah just shakes his head. “I’m proud of both of you. I have to believe that both of your parents would be proud, too, and I’m standing in their stead right now. I would be grateful if someone did the same for Stiles.”

Derek gets the message. Noah isn’t acting as the sheriff, or the Alpha even, but as a surrogate father.

Parrish blushes, and Derek knows that he’s not used to having anyone in his life to serve as a parental figure. “Sir…”

“Noah, when we’re not at the station,” Noah insists. “You have a great resume, and you’re going to be an asset. And you’re going to have the support of the rest of the station, too.”

“Yes, sir,” Parrish says.

Noah laughs. “Yeah, well, I’ll wear you down. Congratulations, anyway.”

Dinner is delicious, but even better is the fact that they’re having dinner with the Alpha, just the two of them. Derek rarely gets Noah’s undivided attention, and he doesn’t think Parrish ever has. Noah asks him about his past, his time in the service, and his future goals.

Not for the first time, Derek is grateful that Noah found out about werewolves and responded as he had.

Really, dinner out is above and beyond, but then Noah, Dave, and Paul all show up at graduation, along with Stiles, Cora, and Moira. Derek and Parrish get their certificates of completion, have their pictures taken, and Noah introduces himself to Officer Jenkins.

“I think you’re making out like a bandit here, Sheriff Stilinski,” Jenkins jokes as he shakes Noah’s hand.

“I know I am,” Noah replies. “I’m looking forward to putting them to work.”

Derek is looking forward to putting on the uniform, even more than he thought he would. When they get back to the house after graduation, the scent of pot roast greets them. Moira and Stiles had started two slow cookers that morning, so dinner is just about ready without much effort.

It’s a Saturday, so the other kids have shifts at their various jobs, and will probably come in and out. Derek doesn’t mind, since he hadn’t wanted much fuss anyway.

Really, he just wants to get to his first shift, and Sunday morning, he gets up bright and early to pull on the tan deputy uniform for the first time. He laces his boots and settles his gun belt, and when he glances in the mirror, he hardly recognizes himself.

Stiles is waiting for him in the kitchen, the coffee pot already percolating. “Looking good, Derek.”

Derek feels his face heat. “Thanks. It feels pretty good. You didn’t have to get up early.”

Stiles shrugs. “I had a hard time sleeping.” He rests a hand on Batman’s head where the dog is leaning against his leg. “It’s not a big deal. I have a session with Jack tomorrow.”

“You’ll tell me if it’s something else,” Noah says as he enters the kitchen. 

Stiles nods. “Yeah, of course.”

Noah claps Derek on the shoulder. “The uniform suits you, Derek. Do you want to ride in with me, or take your own vehicle?”

“I’ll ride in with you,” Derek replies.

Noah grabs a travel mug of coffee, and asks, “Did you want any? I’ll warn you that the stuff at the station is pretty awful.”

Derek shakes his head. “No, I’m good.”

“Do you have a lesson with Moira today?” Noah asks.

Stiles nods. “We’re going over to the Mahealanis’. More protection spells, I think.”

“Well, be careful,” Noah says, pulling Stiles in for a hug.

“How does it feel?” Noah asks as they drive to the station.

Derek takes a deep breath. “I don’t know. I guess it just feels right.”

“That’s about how I felt when I put my uniform on for the first time,” Noah admits, and pulls up behind the station.

Derek steps through the doors, and he feels as though he’s come home.

~~~~~

Noah feels pretty good about having Derek and Parrish on board. After two full shifts, both Tara and Mark are happy with their newest deputies, and Noah knows they’re going to need the help with Barrow.

He can’t put his finger on why this whole thing is bothering him so much, but Noah is unwilling to take any chances.

Today, they’re meeting ahead of Barrow’s arrival to discuss the plan once again, this time with medical staff present, and at the hospital to make sure they’re familiar with the route, and the locations.

There’s a staff break room that Mel has set aside for them. Noah doesn’t care if additional staff overhear; he just wants to make sure they’re all familiar with the logistics.

“Right, we’re not taking any chances,” Noah says. “He’s already killed four children, and we’re not giving him the opportunity to do it again.”

Noah looks at Mel. “How long do you think you’ll keep him?”

“At least overnight, but possibly two,” she says. “I’ve spoken to the surgeon, and that’s the best guess, but it depends on what they find when they open him up.”

Barrow has a tumor in his stomach that needs to be removed, so it makes sense that there would be some uncertainty about the recovery time. “All right, we’ll be on high alert until he’s back in Eichen House where he belongs.”

Noah asks Mel to walk them through the route they’ll take through the hospital, starting from the point that the ambulance pulls up. They walk through the hallways to the room where Barrow will be before and after the operation. They’ve managed to clear the rooms on either side of his and across the hallway, so they have a smaller area to manage.

They also follow the route from the room to the OR. Thankfully, things have been fairly quiet recently, so Noah’s people are fresh, and they have the addition of Derek and Parrish to help manage the load.

Since he would have partnered anyone on guard duty, the fact that they have to be supervised by another officer doesn’t present any difficulties.

“Okay,” Noah says. “Does everyone understand the plan?”

He gets assent from everyone, and he looks at Mel. “Are you doing his intake?”

Mel nods. “I am.”

“I’ll stay with you,” Noah says. “I don’t want anyone left alone with Barrow.”

Mel lets out an audible sigh of relief. “Thank you. I was a little worried about that, to be honest.”

Noah checks his watch. “Barrow should be arriving in fifteen minutes, so places everyone.”

Noah plans on following Barrow’s progress through the hospital himself, but he has Tara and Derek stationed outside until Dave and Paul relieve them. Mark and Parrish are on the room, until they’re relieved by the second shift.

The ambulance rolls up right on time, and two medical personnel wheel out a gurney with Barrow on it. He’s secured to the gurney, and Noah follows them inside. He has Mark and Parrish with him, since they’ll be outside the room.

Mel supervises as Barrow is transferred to a hospital bed, and Noah ensures he’s handcuffed.

“I just need you to answer a few questions for me,” Mel says after Parrish and Mark leave the room.

“I’m not answering any questions with him here,” Barrow says, nodding towards Noah.

Noah just crosses his arms. “Too bad. I’m not leaving her alone with you.”

Barrow glares at Noah. “I wouldn’t hurt her. She doesn’t have glowing eyes. That’s why I had to kill those kids. Their eyes glowed.”

Noah keeps his immediate reaction under strict control. “Is that so?”

“They were demons,” Barrow insists. “They had to die.”

Noah has no idea whether Barrow had hallucinated it, or if he’d actually seen werewolves flashing their eyes, but he’s not going to let on that there might be any credence to his story. He nods to Mel to continue.

“I’m afraid I have to ask these questions, and the Sheriff is here for my protection,” Mel says compassionately.

Barrow sends Noah a glare, and Noah resists the urge to flash his eyes at the man. Finally, he turns back to Mel. “Fine, I’ll answer your questions.”

“Thank you,” Mel replies courteously.

She gets through the intake, and while it’s clear that Barrow is crazy like a fox, he may or may not be delusional. Noah knows he’d been found to be criminally insane, rather than criminally liable, but Noah is a werewolf, and Barrow is a threat to his pack.

Maybe he’s an even bigger threat than the hunters, who would avoid collateral damage, at least in theory. 

Barrow would have no problem blowing up the whole hospital if he thought he was killing one person with glowing eyes.

Noah follows Mel out of the room, and pauses to have a word with Mark. “I don’t want any medical personnel going into the room without a deputy in attendance. And don’t let anyone tell you that he deserves his privacy. He’s a prisoner; he doesn’t have any.”

Mark nods. “You got it, Sheriff.”

Noah follows Mel out to the desk where the patient charts are kept. “Be careful around him,” Noah says.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Mel says fervently. “I’ve met my fair share of crazies, but he makes my skin crawl.” She lowers her voice. “What did you think about his story of the glowing eyes?”

Noah grimaces. “I think he’s a danger to the entire pack. He’d kill any one of us, and he’d plow through a crowd in order to do it.”

Mel nods. “I agree.” She pauses and clears her throat. “I don’t know that it’s anything you need to worry about, but Rafe’s coming into town.”

The growl that emerges is involuntary. “Sorry.”

Mel smiles, clearly amused. “No, that was pretty much my reaction, too. He says that he wants to reconnect with Scott, but it’s Rafe, so he may have an ulterior motive.”

“No offense, Mel, but your ex is a real son of a bitch,” Noah mutters.

“You’re not telling me anything I didn’t already know,” Mel replies. “But I’m mostly telling you this because I don’t expect Scott to respond well, and I don’t think we want Rafe knowing the truth. At least not right now.”

Noah nods. “I agree. You know Scott is welcome at our house at any time.”

Mel lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. Stiles won’t mind? I know there was some tension there.”

Noah shakes his head. “I think they’ve worked it out. And if there’s anyone who knows how to hold a grudge, it’s Stiles.”

Mel laughs. “Well, that’s true enough, and I know he doesn’t think much of Rafe.”

“Let me know if you have any trouble with Barrow,” Noah says. “I’ll come running.”

Mel touches his arm. “Thank you.”

Noah rests his hand over hers. “And if you have any trouble with Rafe, you can let me know that, too.”

She squeezes his arm. “I will.”

Noah doesn’t really want to leave the hospital, but the surgery isn’t until the following day. He has reports to review, and he needs to check in with the rest of the station, especially since they’re going to be spread a bit thin while they have people stationed at the hospital.

He does stop by the entrance where Tara and Derek are stationed. “You two good here?”

Tara nods. “Derek gets to experience the part of police work that’s very, very boring.”

“Please don’t jinx us,” Noah replies wearily. “Because I’d like it to stay boring.”

“I’d be happy if things stay boring,” Derek says. “I’ve had enough excitement to last a lifetime.”

Noah smiles. “Just let me know if you need anything.”

He doesn’t love having two green deputies in the field with someone like Barrow in play, but he knows that Derek, at least, can handle himself, and Parrish had deployed, suggesting that he can as well.

Noah heads back to the station, and starts reviewing the requisition reports to make sure they have everything they need. Last month, they’d run out of coffee, and Noah had to restock from his own funds.

He’s still reading when his phone buzzes. “Sheriff?” Maria says over the intercom.

“What’s up?” Noah asks.

“I have Mr. Brogan on the line for you, sir,” she replies.

“Put him through,” Noah replies, and picks up the handset as soon as it starts to ring. “Stilinski.”

“Noah, it’s Jim Brogan,” he says. “Do you have a few minutes?”

Noah has a sinking feeling. “I do. I’m just going over paperwork. What’s up?”

“Kate Argent’s attorney contacted me, and she’s now willing to take a plea deal on the kidnapping and related charges,” Brogan says.

Noah blinks. “Why? And why now?”

“The evidence is stacked against her, and Allison is still insisting on testifying against her,” Brogan replies. “I think Kate Argent knows she’s going to be found guilty, and she wants to make a deal, get it over with faster.”

“The murder charges?” Noah presses.

“Those aren’t going anywhere, but it’s an ongoing investigation, and she’s behind bars,” Brogan replies. “Her pleading guilty means we have time, since there’s no statute of limitations on murder.”

Noah scrubs his hand over his face. “Okay, what’s the offer?”

“We drop the weapons and escape charges, and she serves time for kidnapping and assault,” Brogan replies. “Her lawyers will stipulate to at least five years, but we’ll ask for the full eight. Four years for the assault charge, and the judge will decide whether it’s concurrent or consecutive.”

Noah knows full well that with good time, Kate will likely serve half of that behind bars. Then again, if she pleads guilty, it saves Stiles from having to testify. 

“Are you going to accept the offer?” Noah asks.

“You know I wouldn’t normally do this, Noah, but I’d like you to talk to Stiles and see how he feels about it,” Brogan admits. “If he’s dead-set against it, I’ll take that into consideration. I won’t tell you that it will make my decision for me, but it will inform it.”

Noah takes a deep breath. “Got it. I’ll speak with him this evening and let you know what he says.”

Brogan says his goodbyes, and Noah hangs up the phone. He has no idea what Stiles is going to think. Noah wants to lock Kate up and throw away the key, but he also knows that’s unrealistic. Eight to twelve years, depending on what the judge decides, is pretty good for kidnapping under these circumstances.

But it does mean they have to make those murder charges stick.

Noah gets through the rest of the day, mostly focused on paperwork. He has the sense that the other shoe is going to drop soon, and the least he can do is get caught up.

Before he leaves the station, Noah checks the pack calendar. There’s cross country practice, and Stiles has judo, but he’ll be done around six. Noah decides to approach him when he’s done at the dojo.

He’s also relieved to see that Stiles has a telehealth visit with Jack coming up, so he’ll at least have the support he needs in that respect to work through his emotions.

It turns out that he needn’t have worried about finding Stiles after judo. Stiles shows up at the station immediately after his lesson, still dressed in his sweat-soaked gi. Noah had gotten caught up in trying to get through as much paperwork as he could, and had lost track of time.

Stiles briefly knocks on the door, even as Maria pages him on the intercom. “Your son is here, Sheriff.”

“I can see that,” Noah replies, and waves at Stiles to come in.

Stiles enters with Batman on his heels in his vest. “Dad, you’ll never guess who showed up at school today!”

Noah considers that comment, and he says, “Rafe McCall.”

Stiles huffs and drops into one of the chairs across from Noah’s desk. “Someone told you. Mrs. McCall?”

“I saw her at the hospital today, and she told me that Agent McCall was coming to town,” Noah admits. “He turned up at the school?”

Stiles nods. “He had Scott called to the office about five minutes before the final bell, and tried to get Scott to go with him.”

“Did he cross a line?” Noah asks.

“Scott said he shot him down and said he had to get to cross country practice,” Stiles replies. He runs a hand through his hair. “I think Scott might wind up camping out at our place.”

“I already told Mel that he could,” Noah replies. “Anything else?”

Stiles shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess that’s it.”

Noah can’t help but feel a welling fondness for his kid, and he hates to put this on Stiles, but he knows Stiles does better with more information. “There’s something I needed to talk to you about, so I’m glad you stopped by.”

Stiles grimaces. “Uh, oh. You have the face.”

“Jim Brogan called me today,” Noah begins. “Kate’s attorney has requested a plea deal.”

Stiles nods slowly, and he rests a hand on Batman’s head. “That’s normal, right? The murder charges are still pending, and might not go anywhere, but there’s a lot of evidence against her in the case involving me.”

“That’s exactly right,” Noah replies. “Brogan wants to know what you think about the offer before he makes his decision.”

“What’s the offer?” Stiles asks warily.

Noah takes a look at the notes he’d scribbled down. “At least five years for kidnapping with the potential for eight, four for assault. They’re dropping the escape and weapons charges, and leaving it up to the judge to decide if the sentence is concurrent or consecutive.”

Stiles is nodding, one hand petting Batman. “Eight years is the most she’d get for kidnapping anyway, right? Unless they charged it as aggravated, but my injuries were relatively minor, all things considered. So, yeah, not really a sweetheart deal, but better than she’d get if she went to trial with the other charges tacked on.”

“Then you’re good with it?” Noah presses. 

Stiles throws up his hands. “Hell if I know, but I can’t say that I’m mad about not having to testify. Plus, this gives everyone time to build their cases, right?”

“That was my understanding,” Noah admits. “But you don’t have to pretend you’re okay with it, Stiles.”

“I”m not pretending,” Stiles protests. “I don’t really want to testify, and that makes it easier on Allison, too.”

Noah frowns. “You’re not worried about her, are you?”

Stiles shrugs. “I can worry about my fellow human beings if I want.”

“It’s to your credit, kiddo,” Noah replies.

“I’m fine with the plea deal,” Stiles says with a sigh. “I just hope that the authorities get to charge her for the murders before she gets out.”

The way Stiles says it doesn’t suggest that he’s worried about Kate getting out, and Noah isn’t going to ask. He knows full well that Moira will likely neutralize her if necessary, and Noah will turn a blind eye.

The sheriff in him protests, but the wolf approves. “I’ll let Brogan know.”

“What about Allison?” Stiles asks.

“I didn’t hear anything about her, but I can make some inquiries,” Noah admits. “Do you want that?”

“I want to know if Allison is coming back to Beacon Hills,” Stiles admits. “Scott is moving on with Kira, and I’d like to give him that chance.”

Noah smiles. “And how is that going?”

“She invited him over for dinner tonight after cross country,” Stiles says. “Or her dad did.”

Noah frowns. “Her dad invited his daughter’s crush over for dinner?”

“I think he’s really worried about her making friends here,” Stiles says. “At least, that’s what I got from the situation. It’s a little weird, but…” He just shrugs. “They’re not werewolf hunters.”

“The bar appears to be very low,” Noah comments.

Stiles grins, lightning quick. “Yeah, well, the bar is apparently in hell when it comes to Scott’s girlfriends, but I like Kira, and her dad is at least a good teacher.”

Noah shuts his computer down and asks, “Do you want to grab dinner?”

“Yeah, I could eat,” Stiles replies. “There’s that new taco place that I kind of wanted to try.”

“Let’s give it a shot, then,” Noah says.

They run into Derek, Tara, Mark and Parrish, who are all getting off shift. “How did everything go today?” Noah asks.

“No problems,” Mark reports. “The surgery will proceed as scheduled tomorrow, and our relief is at the hospital.”

Noah is glad that his station are in the know. He trusts his deputies because they know what’s going on, and he knows they’ll be on their toes.

“We’re going to that new taco place,” Noah says. “If anyone wants dinner.”

Parrish perks up at that. “I love tacos.”

“Tara?” Noah asks.

She smiles. “Sure. I also love tacos.”

Mark shakes his head. “My wife is expecting me home for dinner, but you guys have fun. Parrish, you did good today.”

The tips of Parrish’s ears turn pink. “Thank you, sir.”

Mark hoods a thumb in Noah’s direction. “You can call him ‘sir.’ I’m Mark, or Rossi, if you’d rather.”

“Yes, s—Rossi,” Parrish says.

“Derek?” Noah prompts.

“I could eat,” Derek replies. “But can I call Cora? I kind of promised that we would spend some time together tonight.”

Noah hadn’t planned on throwing the invitation open, but he’s not going to deny Derek’s request. “Not at all.”

Calling the place a restaurant would be a little generous, since it’s little more than a counter and a storefront. There are a few tables inside, and more on the sidewalk outside, and it looks to be a pretty popular place. There’s a line at the counter, and most of the tables are occupied.

“Tell you what,” Noah says to Derek. “Find out what Cora would like, and if there’s anyone else who needs to eat, and we’ll order theirs to go.”

Derek nods and starts texting. The restaurant has a limited menu—street tacos in corn tortillas with a choice of meat and salsas.

They order and eat, standing around outside, and everything is delicious—not to mention cheap. Noah has a feeling that he and the rest of the station are going to be back frequently.

Noah puts in another order for Cora, Erica, Isaac, and Boyd, who are apparently at the house doing homework together.

He knows that this is Moira’s usual night for client consultations, so he doesn’t have to worry about her. 

Noah doesn’t have any way of knowing it, but it’s going to be the last quiet night for a while.

~~~~~

Stiles likes hanging out with his dad’s deputies. He’s fond of all of them, although it’s a little weird to think about Derek as being one of them. But he also enjoys hanging out with the rest of the pack, and with his coven, and taking judo and krav maga. 

Things seem to be settling into a routine, and Stiles is looking forward to getting more details about Scott’s date the prior night.

He’s looking around for Scott as he parks and heads into the high school, only to be waylaid by Lydia. “Stiles!” she calls.

Stiles sighs. There had been a day when he’d have given his right arm to have Lydia seeking his attention. Stiles is over it now, though. And it’s not just his crush on Derek either. 

“Hi, Lydia,” Stiles says, wishing he could just find Scott and find out how his date with Kira went beyond “pretty good, I think.”

“I wanted to say thank you,” Lydia says, which rocks Stiles back on his heels. “For meeting with me, and also, maybe you could pass that along to Moira? I had my first meeting with my new mentor, and it was really helpful.”

Stiles stares at her, waiting for the punchline. “Okay, I’m—I’m glad it’s working out for you.”

“I thought maybe I could sit with you guys at lunch today,” Lydia says.

Stiles blinks, and he can’t come up with a good reason to say no. “If you want to, that would be fine.”

“Okay, great,” Lydia says brightly. “I figure if you can’t beat them, join them.”

She turns to leave, and Scott comes jogging up to him. “Is everything okay?” Scott asks anxiously.

Stiles just shakes his head. “I don’t know, but I think Lydia has decided that she wants to be our friend.”

“Do we want her to be our friend?”Scott asks.

Stiles shrugs. “I guess time will tell. If she ends up being terrible, we can kick her to the curb.” Stiles rests a hand on Batman’s head, grounding himself. “So, how was your date? You didn’t say much.”

Scott turns a bit red. “Good, but I kind of looked like an idiot.”

They start to head into the school. “Oh?” Stiles prompts.

“They served sushi,” Scott admits. “I’d never eaten sushi before.”

“Okay, unless you spat it out on the table, I think you’re probably good, dude,” Stiles replies as they enter the school, with the other pack members falling into step with them. 

“I ate the entire thing of wasabi,” Scott admits. “I thought it was guacamole!”

Stiles snorts, as do Erica and Cora.

“I didn’t know!” Scott exclaims.

“To be fair, a lot of sushi has avocado in it,” Isaac comments. When everyone looks at him, he mumbles, “Cameron really liked sushi, so we’d have it for special occasions.”

Stiles elbows Scott. “Don’t worry about it. Kira probably thought it was adorable.”

“She brought me pizza after that,” Scott admits. “And her parents are super nice.”

“Well, that’s already an improvement,” Boyd comments.

Scott grimaces, but then reluctantly nods. “I have to admit that it’s nice to go on a date and not have her parents look at me like they’d like to murder me.”

Suddenly, Scott stops, and Stiles immediately sees the reason for that.

“Scott? Are you okay?” Erica asks.

It’s a fair question, because it looks like Scott is going to flash fang for a second.

“I don’t want to see him,” Scott mutters.

“Yeah, I get it,” Stiles says. “I’ll handle it. Boyd, Isaac, make sure Scott gets to class. Erica, Cora, with me. Agent McCall is interfering with his son’s life again.”

Erica’s eyes narrow. “It’s like that, huh?”

“Just exactly like that,” Stiles replies. He strides up to Agent McCall wearing a false, bright smile. “Agent McCall. I’d say it was good to see you again, but that would be a lie, and I’ve heard lying to an FBI agent is a felony punishable by up to five years in prison.”

McCall’s lips thin out. “Stiles. Where’s Scott going?”

“He’s going to class like all good little girls and boys,” Stiles replies, and rests his hand on Batman’s head, grounding himself. He doesn’t mind going toe-to-toe with Scott’s dad, because it’s for Scott, but he still feels a spike of anxiety.

Although, he feels one of the girls lightly touch his lower back in a show of support, and that helps.

“I was hoping to speak with him,” McCall says through gritted teeth. 

“You might try again after the final bell,” Stiles says cheerfully. “Although, no promises. You know us teenagers with our busy social lives.”

The warning bell rings, and Stiles says, “That’s our cue. Let’s go.”

He half-expects McCall to try calling him back, but he doesn’t think there’s any official reason for him to do so, and Stiles is the son of the sheriff. “Looks like we might need to run interference for Scott,” Stiles mutters. “Unless or until he says otherwise, anyway.”

“Of course,” Erica says easily. “I know all about shitty parents.”

Stiles glances at her. “I thought they’d gotten better.”

“Sure, now that I have a friend who’s basically moved in,” Erica replies. “They’ve figured out that they don’t have to do anything with me, and they’re happy seeing me every once in a while.”

“They’re nice enough,” Cora comments. “Sort of vague, but nice.”

“That describes them to a T,” Erica says. They hit the intersection of hallways where they part ways, and Stiles heads towards his first class of the day while they head in the opposite direction.

Stiles slides into his seat with barely a second to spare before the final bell, and Scott twists in his seat. “What did he want?”

Their teacher clears her throat at the front of the room. “Class has started, gentlemen.”

Scott sighs. “Sorry, Mr. Berger.”

The first class of the day is math, which requires Stiles’ full attention.

It’s interesting enough, and Stiles forces himself to pay attention. He hears Batman sigh from under the desk, and he shifts, resting his head on Stiles’ feet.

As soon as the bell rings, signaling that class is over, Scott twists back around. “Well?”

“Beyond wanting to talk to you?” Stiles asks. “I didn’t ask. I told him that you had to get to class.”

Scott grimaces. “I don’t really want to talk to him.”

“So, don’t talk to him,” Stiles says as he stands up, looping the end of Batman’s leash over his wrist, and shouldering his backpack. “You have all of us willing to run interference for you. You can crash at my place, stay with Boyd and Isaac, probably even hang out with Kira.”

Scott sighs. “Thanks. Maybe I should talk to him, but I really don’t want to.”

“So, don’t,” Stiles says shortly. “He was a dick, and then he disappeared. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with making him work for it.”

Scott laughs. “Yeah, you have a point. See you at lunch?”

“Sure,” Stiles says easily.

He gets through his next couple of classes, and he’s glad that he has Batman present to ground him. He’s not sure why exactly, but his anxiety is high today, and he’s glad he has a session with Jack scheduled for after school.

At lunch, Stiles grabs a tray and gets his lunch, along with an extra bottle of water for Batman. Erica and Cora have already staked out a table, and Stiles heads that way. He grabs Batman’s collapsable water dish from his backpack and puts it on the floor, filling it up.

Batman immediately starts to slurp, and Stiles turns to his pizza. “So, how has the morning gone?”

“Good,” Erica says cheerfully.

Cora nods her agreement. “Things are getting easier, to be honest. It’s been good.”

Stiles beams at her. “That’s great.”

He’s also really glad that creating the pack bond with Cora had eased things between Cora and the rest of them. 

He hears someone clear their throat, and Stiles glances up to see Lydia standing there. “Is it still okay if I join you?”

Stiles glances at Erica.

“If you can be nice,” Erica says.

“I think we’re all on the same team,” Cora comments when Erica looks at her. “You’re a banshee, right?”

Lydia sits next to Stiles. “I am. And I can be nice.”

“Jury’s still out on that,” Erica says, but she seems to be softening slightly.

Lydia frowns. “That’s fair, but I think we could be friends.”

Erica looks at Cora, who shrugs. “I mean, we’ve been saying that we need more girls in the group.”

Erica glances down at her nails. “I could stand a new mani.”

“I know the perfect place,” Lydia offers. “My treat.”

“We can rope Kira in,” Cora suggests. 

“What am I getting roped into?” Kira asks as she and Scott sit down.

“Manicures,” Erica replies.

Stiles is watching with interest. As far as he knows, other than Danny, Lydia doesn’t have a lot of friends, and he can understand why she’s trying to forge a connection with the pack.

After all, the balance of power in the high school has definitely shifted in their favor.

Kira brightens. “Oh, um, I’m definitely in. If I’m invited.”

“Of course, you are,” Lydia says. “You seem cool. We should get manicures together.”

“Is this the cool kids’ table now?” Danny jokes as he approaches.

“It is,” Stiles replies. “Although, I would argue that it’s always been the cool kids’ table.”

Danny smiles at him. “Keep telling yourself that, Stiles,” but he sits down on Stiles’ other side.

Isaac and Boyd are the next to join them, and they fill the table entirely. “What’s on deck for after school today for everyone?” Isaac asks. “And does anyone need a ride? Because I can help with that.”

“I have a therapy appointment after school,” Stiles says. He’s not shy about admitting it, even in front of Lydia, given that he has a service dog.

“I have a shift at the skating rink,” Boyd admits.

Scott and Erica both have shifts, too, but the others don’t really have anything else going on.

“You’re welcome to come back to my house if you want,” Stiles says, including Lydia and Kira in the invitation. “I can do the therapy appointment in my room, and we can work on homework after.”

Kira blinks. “Oh, me, too?”

“Sure, why not?” Stiles asks. “We often meet up at my place to study or just hang out.”

“I’m off at eight,” Scott says. “I can come by after that.”

“I’ll be at the rink until at least 10, so I’ll probably just go straight home,” Boyd says.

“I’ll stop by after my shift,” Erica says. “I can give Cora a lift, unless you want to stay with your brother tonight.”

Cora shakes her head. “No, I like staying with you.”

Kira looks wildly curious, and Lydia looks like she’s ruthlessly suppressing her curiosity. If Stiles hadn’t been closely observing her for years, he probably would have thought she was bored.

Kira is the first to break. “Um, why are you staying with Erica? Or shouldn’t I ask? I’m sorry if I overstepped.”

Cora shrugs. “I don’t mind sharing. My parents died, and I got separated from my older siblings. Right now, Derek—my brother—is living with the Stilinskis, but the place isn’t really big enough for me to stay except occasionally.”

“And I do have the space,” Erica adds. “Plus, before you guys started hanging out with us, it was a very guy-heavy group. Not that I’m complaining!”

“You complained plenty before Cora showed up,” Scott points out with a grin.

“And then Cora showed up,” Erica counters, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “So, I got my wish.”

There’s movement on the other side of the cafeteria, and Stiles—already hyper-alert—turns to look.

“Isn’t that Malia Tate?” Scott asks.

Batman’s head comes up, and he growls softly.

“What’s he reacting to?” Isaac asks.

Stiles can see the events unfold almost in slow motion, and he already knows that it’s not going to end well. One of the basketball players who’s known for making a pass at any attractive girl is approaching Malia from behind. 

Les Aaron slides his hand into the back pocket of her jeans, copping a feel. He says something that Stiles can’t hear, but her response is immediate.

Malia punches him in the throat and then knees him in the balls in a flurry of motion that Stiles has a hard time following.

“Whoa,” Kira murmurs.

Scott and Stiles are already on their feet, and Isaac, Boyd, and Erica aren’t far behind.

“Scott, Erica, take the lead,” Stiles orders. 

They move fast, but not so fast that it would raise questions, and Kira moves almost as quickly. Scott pulls Les back, getting him out of Malia’s range. Erica and Kira are on either side of Malia, holding her back.

The first teacher on the scene is Mrs. Ramsey, and Stiles moves to intercept her. “Mrs. Ramsey, I saw the whole thing. Les put his hand on Malia’s a—rear end, and I think she just responded instinctually.”

Thankfully, Malia’s eyes aren’t glowing, and she’s not flashing either fangs or claws. At least, she isn’t yet, but if they don’t curtail this conversation, she probably will.

“Is that true?” Mrs. Ramsey asks Malia.

“He put his hand in my back pocket,” Malia says, her voice little more than a growl. “And then he squeezed.”

“That’s a lie!” Les protests, his face red. 

“I saw it, too,” Scott attests.

“Same,” Boyd agrees, backing them up.

Mrs. Ramsey glares at Les. “You’ve been warned about this sort of behavior, Mr. Aaron. With me, to the principle’s office, right now.”

“Are you okay?” Erica asks Malia.

Malia nods. “He just startled me.”

“Have you eaten yet?” Stiles asks. “Do you want to sit with us? No one is going to mess with you at our table.”

Malia shakes her head. “Turns out, I’m not hungry anymore.” She stalks out of the cafeteria, and Stiles and the others head back to their table.

“Who thought it was a good idea to send her to high school?” Stiles mutters. “She was basically living feral in the woods for the last eight years.”

Scott shrugs. “Maybe she wanted to get back to normal as soon as possible?”

“Probably,” Cora comments. “I mean, that’s why I wanted to come back to school. I just wanted to feel normal.”

Stiles gives her a look. “Yeah, but the difference there is that you actually are pretty normal.”

Cora shoves him playfully. “Oh, thank you so much.”

Thankfully, that’s the most excitement they get for the rest of the day, and Stiles has his therapy appointment. The pack members decided to hit up the coffee shop after school—at least those who don’t have somewhere else to be—until Stiles texts them with the all clear.

Stiles appreciates the fact that they’re willing to give him his privacy. He knows that the ‘wolves at least would be able to hear what’s going on, and he’s glad for the empty house, although he’d have been fine if they wanted to be there.

He just hopes that his dad isn’t having trouble with Barrow.

He logs into the patient portal on his laptop and waits for Jack to start the session.

Jack’s bearded face appears on the screen. “Hi, Stiles, how’s it going?”

“It’s going,” Stiles says. “I don’t know. I’m trying to stay calm and all that, but it’s been tough.”

“What about it has been tough?” Jack asks. “Be specific.”

Stiles draws in a deep breath. “It’s the unknown. That’s the best I can do. Dad is dealing with a mass murderer—or maybe a spree killer?—having surgery at the hospital today. Lydia seems to be open to making friends with us, and so is Kira. Malia is in high school, although she probably shouldn’t be. Magic is going well. I don’t know. I shouldn’t be feeling this way.”

“Is it the concern about what was inside the Nemeton, or something else?” Jack asks.

Jack has taught him that naming his anxieties is the first step in controlling them, or at least his emotional response. “It feels like the other shoe is going to drop,” Stiles finally says. “Like, I’m just waiting for something to go terribly wrong.”

“Is that a reasonable concern, or do you think it’s the PTSD talking?” Jack asks gently.

Stiles takes a deep breath. “Probably the PTSD. Assuming something bad is going to happen just because we live on a Hellmouth isn’t terribly rational.”

That causes Jack to chuckle. “Have you talked to Moira about it?” he asks.

Stiles nods. “Yeah, our casting has been inconclusive, and we’ve been working on defensive spells and wards. I’ve been going to judo and krav maga, plus running. It all helps, but some days, it’s not enough.”

“I think we both know that there are going to be days like that for everyone,” Jack replies. “So, let’s review your coping skills.”

Jack leads Stiles through some of the advanced breathing techniques  he’s already learned, but the refresher is helpful. As Jack had explained the first time they’d discussed the breathing exercises, practicing allows Stiles to access them in the moment, even when he’s overwhelmed.

“Good work today, Stiles,” Jack says at the end of their session, as he almost always does. “Any last minute items we should cover?”

Stiles shakes his head. “No, thanks, Jack.”

“Of course,” Jack says. “If you need an emergency session before our next scheduled visit, just email me.”

“I will,” Stiles promises.

He shuts his laptop, and he gets a text from Scott. hlp dad showed up 2 wrk

Stiles thinks for a moment and replies, tell him you’ll call cops if he tries to stalk u.

k, thx dude

Stiles then adds, u cn come here after & stay the nite

thx, I will

Stiles figures that’s one problem solved. He kind of wonders what Rafe McCall thinks he’s going to get by showing up at places like the high school and Scott’s work, because it just screams boundary violation.

And it’s not like Agent McCall, as an FBI agent, has jurisdiction over his kid, or in Beacon Hills, unless there’s been some sort of federal case that Stiles doesn’t know about.

“Oh, fuck,” Stiles mutters. There is one federal crime that took place in Beacon Hills that an FBI agent might be investigating. “That motherfucker.”

There’s no one around to tell him to watch his language right now, and his dad is still out. Stiles will have to wait until his dad gets home to share his concerns. He’s certainly not going to bother him at work, not when he’s watching over a serial killer.

~~~~~

Derek is outside, guarding one of the exits during the surgery when he picks up the commotion inside. “We have a problem,” he says.

Tara nods and draws her weapon. “Let’s move.”

They run inside, Derek at her heels, and he’s glad that the hospital had actually kept the halls to the OR relatively clear.

By the time they reach the operating room, Noah is handing his weapon to Mark. “You’re in charge,” he’s saying. “Full review, dot the i’s, and cross the t’s. I don’t want any doubts.”

“Barrow slashed a doctor’s throat with a scalpel right before you shot him,” Mark protests.

“And he was still a prisoner under our supervision,” Noah says patiently. “Clearing me will probably take 24 hours on the outside, but if it takes longer, I won’t blame you. But it has to be done, and done right.”

“What happened?” Tara demands.

Noah shakes his head. “I can’t talk to you about it. Mark is in charge of the investigation.”

Tara sighs. “Fine. Parrish, Hale, you’re both with me. We’ll need to secure the scene until Deputy Rossi releases it.”

Mark also sighs. “Come on, Sheriff. Tara can handle this while we go to the station, and I’ll take your formal statement.”

They’d discussed officer-involved shootings when Derek was in class, of course, and so he knows that Noah is playing this exactly by the book. Still, he’s struggling to wrap his head around what had just happened.

“Hale, go get the kit of the car,” Tara orders. “Parrish, you good to talk to the nurse?”

Derek looks inside the OR and sees the nurse sitting on the floor, a body in her lap, presumably that of the surgeon. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” Parrish says, green eyes calm, his expression steady. He’d probably seen worse while in the Army.

Tara shoots Derek a look, and he says, “I’m going.”

Derek collects the evidence kit and camera bag from Tara’s county-issued Jeep. He heads back inside at a jog, and he quickly pulls out a pair of nitrile gloves, handing a pair to Tara. “Where do you want me?” Derek asks.

“How are you with a camera?” Tara asks.

“Pretty good,” Derek admits.

“Okay, you handle taking pictures,” Tara orders. “Take more than you think we need.”

Derek takes extensive photos with the digital camera, checking each one to ensure that it’s clear and has captured what he’s seeing. He gets pictures from all angles of both dead bodies, Barrow and the doctor.

“The ME is here, Hale,” Tara calls. “Did you get what you needed?”

Derek nods. “Yeah, I have the whole scene.”

Dr. Kelly steps inside the room, followed by someone in scrubs—probably a morgue attendant—who’s wheeling a gurney. “Well, at least I didn’t have to travel far,” Dr. Kelly comments, although he does’t look happy about the situation. “Deputy Graeme, are you in charge of the scene?”

Tara nods. “From what I’ve been able to gather, Barrow came out of anesthesia and killed the surgeon, then Sheriff Stilinski shot him.”

Kelly goes to the body of the surgeon first. “Looks like Barrow transected the jugular vein. I’ll know more after the autopsy, but death was likely caused by exsanguination. Leo, let’s get Dr. Vandenburg out of here first.”

The surgeon’s body is quickly and respectfully placed inside a body bag, and Leo wheels the gurney out. Kelly then turns to Barrow’s body, and he says, “No question as to what killed him. Three shots to the chest, tight grouping. I’ll perform an autopsy, of course, but I don’t expect a lot of surprises.”

Parrish clears his throat from the doorway. “Not to contradict you, sir, but there was something unusual about the surgery, according to the nurse. She said the tumor they were trying to remove was full of flies.”

Kelly’s head comes up, and he stares at Parrish. “I beg your pardon?”

Parrish shrugs. “I’m just repeating what the nurse told me.”

Kelly whistles. “I shouldn’t be surprised. This is Beacon Hills. I’ll provide the sheriff’s office a copy of my reports once the autopsies are finished.”

Leo returns with another gurney, and they load Barrow into a body bag and wheel him out. 

“All right,” Tara says heavily. “I’ve got the scalpel Barrow used on the doctor. Let’s be thorough and interview anyone who might have been in a position to see or hear anything.”

Derek, Tara, and Parrish spend the next two hours at the hospital, speaking with anyone who might have heard or seen anything. Derek asks the same questions over and over, taking copious notes, not wanting to fuck anything up, or risk any blowback on Noah should he miss something.

“Okay, we’re done here,” Tara finally says. “You two can type up your reports at the station, and I’ll review them before you submit.”

Since Parrish had ridden with Mark to the hospital, Tara gives both of them a lift back to the station. He and Parrish sit down at their respective desks and type up their notes and reports. Tara reviews both, and gives them a grudging nod. “Well written, both of you. Good job keeping to the facts and avoiding any editorializing.”

She glances at the clock. “And you two are done for the day. Good work. I know that was challenging.”

They leave the station together, and Parrish glances at him. “Do you mind if I tag along?”

Derek hasn’t seen Noah since he handed his weapon to Mark at the hospital, and he shakes his head. “No, not at all.”

When they get to the house, the lights are all on, and Derek spots Stiles’ Jeep and Isaac’s sedan parked out front, as well as Noah’s county vehicle and Moira’s Prius.

“Is it ever not busy around here?” Jordan jokes.

Derek shrugs. “These days? No. There are usually at least a few people.”

Noah is seated at the dining room table with a bottle of beer, and Moira is humming in the kitchen. Cora, Stiles, and Isaac are all working on homework at the table, but Derek can feel Stiles’ anxiety like a living thing, made more obvious by the fact that Batman has his vest on, and he’s pressed against Stiles’ leg.

“Stiles, it’s going to be fine,” Noah insists, glancing over at Derek and Parrish as they enter. “Moira is making soup, and there’s plenty if you two want to stay for dinner. Just no shop talk, not until the investigation has been completed.”

Stiles’ mouth is an unhappy slant. “Dad!”

“Derek, Parrish, do you want to explain to my kid how officer-involved shootings are supposed to be handled?” Noah asks with some asperity, pushing away from the table and heading into the kitchen.

Stiles puts his head down on his arms. “Don’t bother. I already know.”

“Then if you know, why are you giving your dad a hard time over it?” Derek asks.

“I told Jack today that I knew the other shoe was going to drop,” Stiles mutters.

Derek doesn’t know how to calm Stiles’ anxiety, but Cora is sitting next to him, and she slings her arm across Stiles’ back. “Hey, at least we don’t have a serial killer on the loose, and they’re going to clear your dad.”

Stiles’ head comes up at that. “Did you know that the FBI estimates that somewhere between 25 and 50 serial killers are active at any given time?”

Isaac stares at him in horror. “Why do you know that?”

“The same reason I know anything,” Stiles replies. “I was curious, so I looked it up.”

“Okay, so one less serial killer is alive and kicking,” Derek points out. “And Cora is right. Your dad acted appropriately, both in shooting Barrow, and asking Mark to clear him. It avoids even the appearance of evil.”

Stiles rubs his eyes. “Yeah, I know. It’s the right call.”

Moira calls from the kitchen, “Dinner’s ready!”

Everyone else gets up immediately, but Stiles is a little slower to follow, and Derek comes around the table to squeeze his shoulder. “I meant what I said earlier.”

“I know you did, Der,” Stiles replies. “I know I’m being dramatic, and it’s probably the PTSD talking, but it really does feel like we’re waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Derek squeezes his shoulder again. “We’ll get it figured out. The pack is strong. We’ll roll with whatever gets thrown our way.”

“Thanks,” Stiles says, taking a deep breath and stroking Batman’s ears.

Whatever else Derek might have said is lost when Scott enters the house, and he’s visibly upset. “Is your dad home, Stiles?” Scott demands.

“I don’t think you’re going to be able to get a restraining order against your dad, dude,” Stiles says, and Derek has certainly missed something.

Scott grimaces. “Maybe your dad could warn him off?”

Noah emerges from the kitchen with a bowl. “Grab some food, and we’ll talk, Scott. You can tell me what’s going on, and we’ll make a plan as a pack.”

Derek appreciates Noah’s calm demeanor, and that calm is the same kind of top-down assurance a good alpha displays.

It’s what makes him a good sheriff, too.

~~~~~

Noah has to say that while he expected something to go wrong with Barrow, he hadn’t expected the day to end over a bowl of soup with him having willingly put himself on suspension, and counseling Scott on how to deal with his father.

Noah thought it was important for him to be on hand during the surgery, just in case, although he hadn’t known what he was worried about—other than something going wrong.

Mark and Parrish are at either end of the corridor, but Noah is standing just outside the OR doors. He’s not sure he would have caught the commotion had his hearing not been so sharp, or had he not been so close. 

As it stands, Noah hears a couple of murmured comments, the start of wild beeping, and a woman gasping. Noah had been told to stay out of the OR, and they hadn’t wanted him even as close as he is, but he'd let his instincts guide him.

Noah bursts into the room, gun in hand, and he sees Dr. Vanburgen collapse, taking the nurse down with him, his throat sliced open, scrubs splattered with blood.

Barrow is holding a scalpel, with what looks like a bloody hole in his stomach where the surgeon had apparently made the incision, and Noah has no idea how he’s even awake. 

“Drop it!” Noah barks.

There’s madness in Barrow’s eyes as he lunges in Noah’s direction, and Noah squeezes off three shots without a second thought.

Mark and Parrish burst into the room as the third shot rings out, and Noah takes a moment to check Barrow’s pulse, then the surgeon’s. Both are dead, and Noah quickly takes in the scene. The nurse is clearly in shock, and Noah knows the proper procedure for a case like this.

He immediately hands his service weapon to Mark, issuing orders for Mark to conduct the investigation and make sure he’s cleared.

Barrow might have been a crazy piece of shit who had been responsible for the deaths of at least four kids, but he had also been a prisoner in their custody. Noah isn’t going to take anything for granted.

So, he hands the investigation over to Mark, and Tara takes charge of the scene to collect evidence. Noah is confident that his deputies will handle everything appropriately.

He and Mark head back to the station, and Mark leads him to an interview room. “I know why we have to do this, but we both know you did what you had to do, sir.”

Noah shrugs. “I’s dotted and t’s crossed, Deputy Rossi. I’m not giving anyone a reason to come after this department.”

Mark nods and turns on the recording equipment. “You got it, Sheriff.” He recites the date and time, and then he asks Noah questions about the sequence of events.

They go over it a few times, and Mark is thorough in his questions—what had alerted Noah to the problem? What had he seen when he entered the room? Why had he shot Barrow in the chest rather than trying harder to get him to drop the scalpel?

Noah knows he made the right call—Barrow had already fatally wounded the surgeon, he hadn’t dropped the scalpel when ordered, and then he lunged at Noah. Noah had followed procedure.

Finally, Mark stops the recorder and says, “I’ll review the witness statements when Tara and the others file their reports, and I’ll let you know if there are any additional questions.”

“I appreciate it, Mark,” Noah replies. “I know the station is in good hands.”

“I’ll be thorough, but I anticipate having good news for you tomorrow morning, sir.”

By now, it’s just past 4 pm, and Noah knows that his kid is going to be home and in his telehealth appointment, so he heads there. He’s somewhat relieved to see just Stiles’ Jeep and Moira’s Prius parked out front. 

Stiles will likely either be in Noah’s office or his bedroom for the appointment, but Noah can hear Moira in the kitchen.

“You’re home early,” she comments as she chops an onion.

Noah hesitates. “Officer-involved shooting, and I was the officer involved. I have no idea how he did it, but Barrow came out of anesthesia while they were operating and killed the surgeon.”

“Is Barrow dead?” Moira asks.

Noah nods. He wants a beer, but it’s still a little early for that, so he grabs a bottle of water instead. “He is, but I had to take myself off duty so my deputy could clear me. With the current make-up of my department, I’m not giving the hunters any reason to dig.”

“Fair,” Moira says. “It’s going to worry Stiles, though.”

Noah sighs. “He has a session with Jack today, so I’m hoping he can maintain. Tell me, though—is he right to be worried, or is this a product of something else?”

Moira sighs. “I don’t know, Noah. Stiles is uniquely attuned to the earth, and to Beacon Hills, and that connection just continues to grow. It’s entirely possible that his worry is unfounded. It’s also entirely possible that he’s sensing something I’m not, or that I can’t, and is unable to articulate exactly what it is.”

Noah hears both what she’s saying and what she’s not. They can’t discount Stiles’ fear just because he has PTSD, and it might be irrational.

“Got it,” Noah says. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Stiles comes into the kitchen just then, making a beeline for the fridge, and then he spots Noah. “Dad? What are you doing home? I figured you’d still be at the hospital.”

He freezes. “Wait, something happened, didn’t it? Is Barrow dead?”

Stiles phrases it as a question, but the way it comes out sounds like more of a statement of fact. Noah remembers what Moira had said, and he wonders if Stiles had some premonition. 

“He is,” Noah replies. “He came out of anesthesia and killed the surgeon. I shot him.”

Stiles frowns. “Are you going to get in trouble for it?”

“No, I’m not, but I took myself off duty as a precaution for Mark to clear me,” Noah replies. “I know that you know it’s standard operating procedure.”

Stiles nods slowly. “Yeah, I know that. Sorry. Was there—was there anything weird going on with Barrow?”

“I don’t know,” Noah replies. “And I won’t until I’ve been cleared and the autopsy is done.”

Stiles bobs his head. “Right, right. Okay, I’m going to do my homework. I think Cora and Isaac should be here for dinner, and Scott will probably be over after he finishes up at work. His dad has been pretty persistent.”

Noah nods. “Scott will be welcome.”

He knows that’s not the end of it, though. Stiles is clearly agitated and trying hard not to show it, but Noah can smell his worry.

Noah is enjoying a beer and the company of his pack right before dinner when Stiles glances over at him. “But what if Scott’s dad tries to, I don’t know, get some dirt on you? He might.”

Noah has no idea where that idea is coming from. “Why on earth would he do that?”

“I don’t know, to get to Scott?” Stiles suggests.

Isaac and Cora are flanking Stiles at the dining room table, and Noah sees the look they exchange. Stiles’ anxiety is riling them up, and Noah knows he needs to calm things down. “Stiles, it’s going to be fine.” He puts a little power behind his voice.

He’s not sure whether it’s a good or a bad thing that Derek and Parrish enter the house, and Noah has to warn them off shop talk before anything else. He probably wouldn’t have needed to say anything to experienced deputies, but they’d just finished their third shift.

Stiles’ protest is entirely expected, but Noah can’t give him the comfort he needs right now, and he won’t be able to until the investigation is complete. So, Noah takes himself out of the room, heading back into the kitchen.

Moira just pats him on the shoulder. “Easy,” she murmurs. “Stiles’ connection to the pack means they’re going to feel his anxiety, and you were right to say what you did. Let Derek settle him down.”

Noah is trying not to pay attention to the conversation, but he hears Derek assure Stiles that Noah is going to be cleared. Noah can feel Stiles’ anxiety start to go down, and then it eases entirely when Scott storms into the house.

“My kid,” Noah mutters. “Present him with someone in crisis, and he just gets eerily calm.”

Moira hands him a bowl of soup. “Go see to your pack, Noah.”

Noah enters the dining room, sees Scott’s wild eyes, and immediately  asserts order. “Grab some food, and we’ll talk, Scott. You can tell me what’s going on, and we’ll make a plan as a pack.”

That order has the other kids—and he includes Derek and Parrish in that—heading into the kitchen to get their own food. 

As far as Noah knows, the soup is Moira’s own recipe, and it’s loaded with beef and veggies. Whatever she puts in it, it’s delicious. He definitely savors the first couple of bites as everyone gets their own food and gets settled at the table.

When Scott comes back to the dining room, Noah points to the chair on his right. “Have a seat, Scott. Tell me what’s going on.”

Scott sits, his expression miserable. “I don’t want to see him.”

“Okay, and you’re welcome to hang out here as much as you like,” Noah replies patiently. “But that doesn’t tell me what’s happened to date.”

Scott sighs. “Dad showed up at the school this morning, but Stiles ran interference for me so I could get to class.”

Noah glances at Stiles. “Is that right?”

“I told him he was out of his jurisdiction,” Stiles replies. “More or less.”

Noah nods. “And tonight?”

“I was on shift, and he showed up at the shelter,” Scott complains. “He kept trying to talk to me, and the director was giving me dirty looks. I don’t want to get in trouble.”

“He shouldn’t have bothered you at work,” Noah soothes. “If he makes a nuisance of himself, you can always ask the director to ban him, and we can enforce a no trespassing order. Same with the principal at the school.”

Scott’s shoulders drop in relief. “They can do that?”

“Sure they can, and then he’d need a warrant or other court order to enter the property,” Noah explains patiently. “To get a restraining order, you would need to show that he’s a threat, and I doubt he’s going to go to those lengths, but he can make a nuisance of himself.”

Scott nods and takes a big bite of soup, then immediately takes a drink of water. “Hot,” he says around a full mouth.

That causes about everyone around the table to laugh. 

“If you want me to go with you to talk to your director or the principal, I will,” Noah offers. “I’m sure your mom would as well.”

Scott nods. “I’ll talk to her, and I’ll let you know. Um, Mom told me you stayed with her while she was talking with Barrow. Thanks for that. After today…”

“It was my pleasure, Scott,” Noah assures him. “I’m always going to protect your mom if I have the chance.”

Scott flushes, clearly pleased. “Um, I know Kira has been over here before, but I kind of want to tell her about the pack.”

“Let me think about it,” Noah replies, not unkindly. “Things are a bit unsettled at the moment, and you’re still getting to know her. Maybe introduce her to the wild and crazy world of Beacon Hills slowly.”

Scott nods. “Okay, that’s fair. Thanks for considering it.”

That’s about the easiest Scott has ever accepted Noah’s authority, and he doesn’t know if it’s because Scott is finally settling, or if Noah looks better than his own father. Whatever it is, Noah isn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Noah’s cell phone rings, and he excuses himself from the table to take the call. “Stilinski.”

“It’s Rossi,” his deputy says. “You’re in the clear.”

“You sure about that?” Noah asks.

“I’ve reviewed the reports and the evidence,” Mark insists. “Barrow had just killed the surgeon, and he had the murder weapon in his hand and refused to drop it. The nurse’s statement was basically identical to yours. Also, Dr. Kelly said he wanted you to come to the autopsy tonight. Apparently, there’s something hinky.”

Noah blinks. “The hinky part isn’t a shock, but tonight?”

“That’s what he said, Sheriff,” Mark replies. “Dave and Paul are going to be there as well to provide security. And I promise I didn’t rush your clearance just because I hate going to autopsies.”

Noah snorts. “Right, well, no one is perfect. All right, I’ll head in.”

Stiles is standing there, staring at him. “Mark cleared you already?”

“The medical examiner asked for me, and Mark hates going to autopsies,” Noah says, trying to make a joke out of it. “But yes, it was a good shoot.”

“I think Moira should go with you,” Stiles says.

Kelly has met Moira, and this isn’t even the first autopsy she’ll have shown up at, so Noah says, “Okay, if she agrees.”

Moira appears in the hall, her coat already on. “I’m ready.”

Noah changed out of his uniform when he got home, and he considers changing back but then shrugs. He doesn’t feel like it; tomorrow is soon enough, and as far as he’s concerned, he’s going in as a personal favor to Kelly. “Let me grab my jacket.”

Moira looks at Stiles. “You’ll make sure everything gets cleaned up?”

“On it,” Stiles agrees. “Thanks.”

“Trust your instincts, young spark,” Moira murmurs, cupping his cheek with her hand. “At least where it concerns things like this.”

“You don’t think it’s PTSD?” Stiles asks.

“So what if it is?” Moira asks. “I’ll go to the autopsy with your father; it costs me nothing but a little time, and may tell me quite a bit.”

Stiles’ shoulders slump in relief. “Thanks,” he repeats.

Moira follows Noah out of the house, and she says, “I’ll follow you in, and I’ll likely head home after that.”

“I appreciate your help, Moira,” Noah says. “For a lot of reasons.”

“I couldn’t love Stiles more if he were my own blood, and it’s really my pleasure,” Moira says. “Life certainly is more interesting these days.”

Noah feels as though the day has already been about a million years long, but he’s the sheriff, so he’s going.

He parks outside the hospital, and Moira parks next to him, then follows him inside.

Noah finds Paul and Dave right outside the autopsy room, and he glances at Paul. “You know what this is about?”

Paul grimaces. “I read the reports, and the nurse said the thing that kicked it off was was a tumor full of flies.”

“Flies,” Noah states, wondering if he’d heard that correctly.

Dave shrugs. “Flies.”

Moira’s eyes have narrowed. “Hmm.”

“You have some idea what that’s about?” Noah asks.

“Let’s hear what the doctor has to say,” Moira counters.

They enter the autopsy bay, and Kelly nods at them both. “Noah, thanks for coming. I know it’s been a long day. Moira, good to see you again, and I’m glad you’re here.”

“What are we looking at?” Noah asks.

“Well, as you probably know, the reason for Barrow’s surgery was to have a mass removed from his abdomen,” Kelly says, going over to one of the metal tables that has what’s clearly a body draped in a sheet. “Dr. Vanburgen opened him up, and the mass proved to be a tumor full of flies, according to those present.”

“Do you not believe them?” Noah asks.

Kelly pulls the sheet down, baring Barrow’s chest but leaving the lower half covered. “I probably would have questioned it a little more if the autopsy results not been what they were, and had I not seen a few things.”

Noah sees what looks like an empty, pink pouch in Barrow’s abdomen, and he leans in a little closer. He might not be a doctor, but the thing doesn’t look normal, and when he peers a little closer, he can see a few dead flies.

“I’ll be damned,” Noah says.

“That was pretty much what I said, word for word,” Kelly replies.

“May I?” Moira asks, glancing at the tray of surgical implements next to the table.

“The autopsy is complete,” Kelly says. “I just have to write my report, although I have no idea what I’m going to put in it, given this.”

Moira picks up a pair of tweezers and plucks out one of the flies, holding it up against the light to get a better look. “And what secrets can you tell me?” she murmurs, then drops it in her left hand.

Her bare left hand.

Noah assume she has a good reason for doing that, but he still finds it gross.

The fly goes up in a poof of sickly green flame, and she nods, as though expecting that result. “I think that’s what brought Barrow out of the anesthesia,” she says. “It’s a magical contagion of a sort.”

“Is it something we need to worry about?” Noah asks.

Moira shakes her head. “That, I don’t know. Let me make some phone calls tonight, and then I’ll get back to you.”

She glances at Kelly. “Do you mind if I take another fly, and do you have a container I can use?”

Kelly grabs a small plastic container with a lid, and Moira removes another fly from the body and places it inside. 

“And if you don’t mind terribly, Noah, I’d like to collect Stiles and go over to the Mahealanis’ house. I’ve already texted Noelani,” Moira says. “I think we should act sooner, rather than later.”

Noah doesn’t think he has another option, not really. When it comes to things like magic, Moira is undoubtedly the expert. “All right. Please keep me informed.”

“Of course,” Moira assures him. “I think if Stiles knows what we’re facing, it might help to set his mind at ease.”

Noah knows that his kid does better with more information, and not less, so he nods. “Agreed. Thank you, doc.”

“Always a pleasure, Sheriff,” Kelly replies. “And it’s always something new.”

Noah can’t disagree with that.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3

Stiles is a little surprised when Moira returns to the house and asks him to accompany her. It’s nearly eight, and while Stiles isn’t exactly an early to bed person most of the time, he thought that Moira was going home after their trip to the medical examiner’s office.

Not that Stiles ever minds a chance to do magic or learn from Moira and the rest of the coven.

“What should I do?” Scott asks as Stiles pulls on his jacket. 

“Stay put, dude,” Stiles tells him. “Hang out with Derek, finish your homework. Your dad isn’t going to come here.”

“And if he does?” Scott asks.

Stiles shrugs. “Tell him that he’s trespassing, and you don’t have to call the police, because Deputy Hale is already here.”

Scott grins crookedly. “I’m sure my dad would love that response.”

“It’s a response,” Stiles says. “And it isn’t one he can really argue with.”

“True,” Scott says. “I’ll stay here tonight. You mind if I sleep in my fur?”

“No, of course not,” Stiles replies. “I have to go.”

“Be careful,” Scott says. “There’s something weird going on.”

“There usually is in Beacon Hills,” Stiles counters.

Stiles joins Moira by the front door, and they leave for the Mahealanis’ in her Prius. “What are we looking at?” Stiles asks as he gets into the passenger seat.

Moira sighs. “Magical corruption. It infected Barrow, and drove him to commit murder. Or, well, that’s not accurate. It gave him the means to commit murder.”

“I don’t figure he needed much drive to do it, given that he’s already killed at least four people,” Stiles comments. 

“Just so, but it allowed him to wake from the anesthesia and kill his surgeon,” Moira says. “I have an idea, but I want to get Noelani’s opinion before I say anything.”

“Fair,” Stiles says. “So, magical corruption. In a general sense, how bad are we talking?”

“That depends,” Moira replies. “Which I know isn’t terribly informative.”

Stiles snorts. “But it’s probably better than you giving me an inaccurate answer.”

“Correct,” Moira replies, taking a sharp turn. “The nogitsune, in Japanese culture, is not normally associated with decay or evil. They’re tricksters, but not necessarily malicious. Barrow was having a tumor removed, and according to the nurse, it was full of flies.”

“So, it could be that there’s an entirely different magical corruption than what was contained in the Nemeton,” Stiles says. 

Moira nods. “Precisely.”

Stiles drums his fingers against the door, thinking through the possibilities. “Do you think we’ll be able to fully cleanse the Nemeton?”

“I don’t know,” Moira admits. “But we’re going to try.”

Moira pulls up in front of the Mahealanis’ house, and Alana is the one to answer the door. “Sorry for the late hour,” Moira says.

“The best defense in this situation is knowledge,” Alana replies philosophically. “Let’s go into the backyard again. I’d rather not have anything like that in the house.”

Stiles prefers to do magic outside, where he can feel the earth, so he has no objection. Someone has turned on the heat lamps, so the area of the yard where they usually form their circle is comfortable.

Noelani and Danny are already there, seated, and Noelani says, “Alana passed along your message, Moira. Are you sure this is related to what was locked inside the Nemeton?”

Moira shakes her head. “I’m not sure of anything right now. All I know is that a man had a tumor full of flies, and he was able to come out from under anesthesia to murder his surgeon.”

Noelani grimaces. “Well, let’s see what you’ve got.”

Moira produces an evidence vial, and Stiles leans in to see the dead fly at the bottom. “What are we going to be able to tell from a dead fly?”

Noelani laughs a bit. “Magical corruption is easy to sense, at least for someone with my experience.” She glances at Moira. “But perhaps this could be a learning experience for Stiles.”

Moira inclines her head. “Hold out your hand, Stiles. Earth is your affinity, and insects—even dead ones—should still feel of the earth.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Stiles asks.

“You’ll know,” Moira replies dryly.

Stiles hesitates, but he holds out his hand, and Moira tips the fly into his palm. Stiles immediately gags. “Oh, that’s gross.”

“Give it to me,” Noelani says immediately.

Stiles can’t hand it over quickly enough, dropping it into Noelani’s palm, then rubbing his hand briskly on his jeans. “That might look like a dead fly, but it’s not.”

“Hm, no, you’re correct about that,” Noelani agrees. “This is a piece of something very dark, probably what was locked up in the Nemeton.”

The fly goes up in a puff of green flame, and Noelani shudders. “I think it was called here originally. It’s not a true nogitsune. Whatever it is, was called in an act of vengeance, and probably as an act of desperation.”

Stiles frowns. “You could sense all of that?”

“Both Moira and I have been called to cleanse areas where people have been…” She pauses. “Let’s say misused and oppressed. What happens when someone is kicked too many times, Danny?”

“They start kicking back,” Danny says readily. “And sometimes, kicking means calling on powers they can’t control.”

“Like Matt Daehler,” Stiles murmurs.

“Well, calling on a demon to get revenge on your childhood bullies is a bit of an overreaction,” Moira replies. “But yes, similar to Daehler.” She looks at Noelani. “Are you thinking about that situation in Kosovo?”

“I am,” Noelani replies.

Moira hums under her breath, and then says, “This is older, I think. It’s been in the Nemeton for decades. I felt the extent of the rot when I first observed it.”

Noelani nods. “But similar in nature.”

“Yes, quite similar, although the one in Kosovo had a passing resemblance to a striga,” Moira agrees. “Take note, boys. Demons require a ritual to call, and if not done correctly, they will turn on the summoner, as Daehler experienced. Vengeance spirits look for an opening, and they will often take the shape of whatever makes sense for the summoner’s culture, but they don’t always follow the same rules.”

Stiles frowns thoughtfully. “That’s why it might take the form of flies, since they’re associated with decay in most Western cultures, but feel like a nogitsune. Whoever called it was probably a product of both cultures.”

“Possibly,” Moira cautions. “We shouldn’t jump to conclusions this early, but those are good instincts, Stiles.”

Danny frowns. “But what could have happened in Beacon Hills that would have warranted that sort of call for vengeance?”

Stiles frowns. “I don’t know, but our new history teacher seems to have a pretty good handle on obscure historical facts. We could ask him.”

“We do have that history project we’re supposed to be working on,” Danny points out. “I don’t have a partner for it yet. Do you?”

Stiles shakes his head. “Nope. Wanna be study buddies?”

“Us witches have to stick together,” Danny says with a grin.

Stiles offers a fist bump, and he feels a little bit better, thinking that they might be closer to some answers.

~~~~~

Derek has decided that he doesn’t hate beer as much as he thought he did, and drinking one with Parrish at the dining room table while Scott quietly freaks out is a pleasant way to pass the time.

“I just don’t know what he wants!” Scott bursts out. Isaac and Cora left not long after Stiles did, with Cora meeting Erica after her shift, and Isaac heading back to the apartment he shares with Boyd. It had been clear, to Derek at least, that they hadn’t wanted to stick around for Scott’s drama.

Not that he blames them. Hearing about how someone’s parent wants to connect—no matter how shitty the parent might be—probably doesn’t feel great to a pair of orphans.

“You could ask him,” Parrish says hesitantly. It’s clear that he doesn’t know whether he should get involved, but is also interested in investing more in the pack and its dynamics. “I mean, I don’t know. Maybe he’s a shit father, but he’s still showing up.”

“The question is why, though,” Scott counters. “He up and disappears, then he starts reappearing, disrupting my life.”

“Maybe that’s exactly what he wants to do,” Derek suggests. “So you can’t ignore him.”

“Well, it sucks,” Scott declares. “I wish he would just leave me alone.”

“Maybe you should just talk to him,” Derek suggests. “Rip the bandaid off, get it over with. You’ll at least have the satisfaction of telling him to fuck off to his face.”

Scott’s face falls. “I couldn’t say anything like that! He’d tell my mom, and my mom would kill me.”

“So, tell him to fuck off politely,” Parrish replies. “Just use your words instead of bailing as soon as you see him.”

Scott actually seems to be taking their advice on board. Derek has noticed that he’d seemed more settled, more interested in listening to the opinions of the rest of the pack.

More interested in being part of the pack, period. Derek thinks that Deaton’s influence has finally worn off completely.

“How do I do that?” Scott asks. “You don’t know my dad. He tends to just steamroll over everyone and everything.”

Derek doesn’t know Scott’s dad, but he’s had family members like that. “It’s best to choose the place of confrontation, and then offer a meeting,” he replies. “That way, you’re controlling the situation, and he’s not catching you on the back foot.”

Scott perks up a bit at that. “You mean like invite him over here, or ask to meet at a public location?”

“Exactly,” Parrish says. “You control the location, and you tell him to stop showing up at your school and place of employment. He’s the one who left, right?”

Scott shrugs, looking away, his cheeks flushing a dull red. “Technically, I think Mom kicked him out after…” He stops. “It wasn’t great, but he never even tried to apologize.”

“Then I think you get to set the terms on how and whether he’s back in your life,” Parrish says. “And don’t hesitate to hold him accountable. He has to earn back your trust.”

Scott blows out a breath. “You don’t think I should just forgive him because he’s my dad?”

Parrish just gives him a look. “I was put in foster care for a reason. I’m the last person on the planet who’s going to tell you to give someone a free pass because they’re related to you.”

Scott stares at him for a moment, and then he offers a hesitant smile. “Thanks.”

“Do you have any homework you should be doing?” Derek asks. “I think everyone else got theirs done earlier.”

Scott blows out a breath. “Yeah, I do.” He pauses. “Thanks for listening—both of you. I know it probably seems like I’m oblivious, but I’m not that clueless.”

“I didn’t think you were,” Derek replies, finishing up his beer. “And we don’t need to compare parental wounds, Scott.”

That causes Scott to smirk at him. “Big words. Did you learn that in therapy?”

Derek refuses to rise to the bait. “Absolutely.”

Parrish also finishes his beer. “I should get going, too. Hang in there, Scott.”

Derek walks him to the door. “Crazy couple of days, huh?”

Parrish laughs. “You know, I really thought I knew what I was getting myself into, but I guess not. Still, it was—fun isn’t the right word, but nothing is making me regret my choices.”

“Same,” Derek replies, and they exchange a quick bro-hug.

The house is emptier than usual at that point, just him and Scott. Derek figures that at one point, it would have been uncomfortable, but Derek pulls out a book, and Scott works on his homework. 

Noah is the first to arrive home, and he doesn’t seem surprised to see that Scott. “You staying here tonight?” Noah asks.

Scott nods. “If that’s okay.”

“You know you’re always welcome,” Noah replies. “Did you let your mom know?”

Scott pulls out his phone. “I’ll text her now.”

Derek goes on with his reading, and Scott keeps on with his homework. Noah heads upstairs, and Derek can hear his cell phone ring a few minutes later.

Derek isn’t trying to listen in. There isn’t much privacy with so many werewolves around, and so they all try to respect things like closed doors and phone calls taken while the other party isn’t on speakerphone. 

Still, he can’t help but have his attention drawn when he hears Noah say, “Oh, for fuck’s sake!”

Scott’s head comes up, too, and he says, “I think the sheriff is talking to my mom.”

Derek cocks his head. “It sounds as though your dad is making himself even more of a nuisance.”

Noah says, “Yeah, I’ll send Dave and Paul over to tell him that he needs to leave, and he’s making the neighbors nervous. What the hell is he thinking?”

It’s probably a rhetorical question, but Mel responds with, “I think he can sense that he’s already lost his son, and it’s making him desperate.”

Noah snorts. “What? Did he think he could just put his kid on a shelf and he’d be right where he left him, in the same state he left him in?”

“Knowing Rafe, probably,” Mel replies, and now she sounds mostly amused. “Thanks, Noah, and thank you for keeping Scott there tonight. At this point, I’d prefer that Scott isn’t alone when he meets with his dad.”

“Agreed,” Noah says. “I’ll take care of it, Mel.”

“Thank you,” she says. 

Noah comes back to the dining room with his cell phone in his hand, and his expression is a mixture of exasperation and amusement. “How much of that did you hear?” he asks.

“Let me guess, my dad is sitting outside our house, waiting for me,” Scott comments.

“So, most of it, then,” Noah comments. “Give me a second.”

They watch and wait as Noah dials a number. “Paul? Where are you guys?”

Derek can hear Paul reply, “We’re out on patrol, sir. It’s been a pretty quiet night so far.”

“I need you to go by the McCall place,” Noah says. “Mel is at work, and Scott is spending the night here. Apparently, Mel’s ex-husband is parked outside their residence, making the neighbors nervous. One of them called Mel at the hospital.”

“You want us to move him along?” Paul asks.

“Yeah, I do,” Noah replies. “Fair warning, though, he’s an FBI agent, so he might try using his badge.”

Paul snorts. “Nothing against the feds, sir, because they were pretty damn helpful with the Argent case, but he’s got no jurisdiction.”

“I think he wants to talk to his kid, but Mel has full custody, and Scott isn’t interested right now,” Noah says. “So, you’re absolutely correct on that front.”

“I’ll let you know how it goes,” Paul replies.

Scott’s face is a perfect picture of dismay. “What does he want?”

“Right now, evidence suggests that he just really wants to talk to you, but your mom is right,” Noah replies. “Best if there’s a witness. Paul and Dave will move him along, and we’ll figure it out.”

“What if he comes here?” Scott asks, sounding genuinely distressed, and Derek thinks he understands. Someone who actually cared to establish or maintain a good relationship wouldn’t be stomping all over Scott’s boundaries.

“I have no problem arresting him for trespassing and letting him cool his heels in a cell overnight, Scott,” Noah says patiently. “But I have no doubt that Paul and Dave will get the point across.”

Scott sighs. “Yeah, I know. I like Paul and Dave.”

“I’m pretty sure everyone does,” Noah replies.

Stiles arrives home at just that moment, looking a bit wrung out but otherwise in good shape. “Hey,” he calls. “Did I miss anything?”

“My dad’s apparently camped outside my house,” Scott says sourly.

“Good thing you’re here then,” Stiles says cheerfully after a moment’s pause.

Scott grins briefly. “Yeah. True.”

Noah glances at Stiles. “Did you and Moira get any information?”

Stiles throws himself into a chair. “Yeah, it’s actually pretty interesting. We think someone called up a vengeance spirit, probably someone who was abused in some way. And maybe someone who had exposure to both western and Japanese cultures, but Moira told me not to jump to any conclusions. Danny and I are going to do some historical research.”

Scott frowns. “Does that mean you’re going to partner with Danny on the history project?”

Stiles grimaces. “Sorry, Scotty. But I’ll still help you if you want!”

Scott shrugs. “It’s cool. I don’t think Isaac has a partner yet, so I’ll ask him if he wants to work with me.”

Stiles smiles. “Thanks.”

Derek thinks that’s a pretty good sign that things are going back to normal between the two of them. 

Noah nods. “All right, but be careful. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about cold cases, it’s that they can heat up without warning.”

Stiles bobs his head. “Yeah, I get it, Dad. We’ll keep an eye out. I think I’m going to get ready for bed.”

“Me, too,” Scott says. “I got all the important stuff done. Thanks again for letting me stay here tonight.”

“As I told your mom, you’re always welcome here, Scott,” Noah replies.

The two boys head upstairs, and Derek gives Noah a long look. “How are you doing?”

Noah shrugs. “About like how I was doing after the deaths of the alpha pack, or Jennifer Blake. Barrow needed to be put down, and I did the job.”

Derek isn’t too surprised by that response. Barrow had proven himself to be an enemy, and Noah takes that very seriously.

Wolves can be ruthless when it comes to a threat to the pack.

“I’m glad you’re not going to lose much sleep over it,” Derek offers.

“Try none,” Noah says. “The only thing I might lose sleep over is whether Rafe McCall is going to be a problem.”

Derek understands that. An FBI agent causing problems is a tougher problem to solve than a serial killer, or a bunch of insane werewolves.

“Maybe you should try calling Agent Marsh,” Derek suggests. “He might have some pull, or at least some idea if there’s anything else driving this.”

Noah nods slowly. “That’s a good idea, Derek. Thanks.”

Derek shrugs. “Think I’ll head up to bed, too. Tara said you hate it when your deputies are late.”

“It’s not my favorite,” Noah says with a snort. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Derek sleeps just fine that night, and he runs into Scott and Stiles in the kitchen the next morning, quickly eating bowls of cereal. “Be careful today, huh?” Stiles says as he rinses out his bowl in the sink.

Derek smiles briefly. “Pretty sure Tara will look after me.”

“Okay, so look after Tara, too,” Stiles replies. “It’s my turn to cook tonight. I’m thinking pasta.”

“Sounds great,” Derek replies. “See you two later.”

Derek makes it to the station with fifteen minutes to spare, seeing that Noah is already in his office. Tara’s also there. “Hey, Derek. You doing okay?”

Derek shrugs. “I’m happy to have the sheriff back on the job, but I’m fine.”

“You know, there was an officer-involved shooting a few years ago, and that definitely rattled me,” Tara admits. “And this one just didn’t.”

“You’re a ‘wolf now,” Derek points out. “Barrow was a threat to the pack, and the Alpha killed him.”

Tara frowns in thought, and then she laughs a little as she shakes her head. “You know, sometimes I forget.”

“Forget what?” Derek asks.

“I forget that being a werewolf changed me. I don’t feel much different, all things considered, but you’re right,” she says. “It really is that simple now, and it wouldn’t have been before. I can’t say I mind it.”

Derek hesitates, and then he says, “It’s also the difference between having a strong alpha that you trust to do the right thing and—not. I can’t say you’d be so accepting if someone else had been Alpha.”

“Let’s hope we never have to find out,” Tara replies. “Now, are you ready to go out on patrol? We have a couple of follow ups today.”

Derek nods. “Yeah, definitely ready.”

His first few days on the job had been all about preparing for Barrow’s surgery, and then it had been about guarding the hospital. Derek’s ready for something a little more normal. 

If normal even exists in Beacon Hills.

~~~~~

Noah heads into the station early mostly to check in with Dave and Paul. He wants to catch them before they go off-shift to find out what Rafe McCall had to say for himself.

Noah gets to the station around six, and is pleased to find that there’s a full pot of coffee. It’s not good coffee—that isn’t in the budget—but Noah is used to shitty coffee between his time in the Army and his time at the station.

He retrieves his favorite mug from his office, the one that says, “#1 Dad,” and fills it.

Dave and Paul enter the break room a few second later, and Paul grimaces. “You’re here early, sir.”

“I was curious as to how the call with Scott’s dad went,” Noah admits freely.

Dave groans. “God, what a fucking asshole. I can see why Scott has issues with authority.”

Noah snorts. “You noticed that?”

“He wears his issues on his sleeve,” Dave says. “Also, I knew a lot of guys like that in the Army.”

“Yeah, well, he comes by his issues honestly, which is why I’m willing to cut him some slack,” Noah admits. “Come on into my office.”

Paul and Dave take the seats across from his desk, and they look at each other, clearly debating who is going to deliver the report.

“We didn’t arrest him,” Paul says finally. “But it was a near thing. He got belligerent, called us a couple of fucking Keystone cops—his exact words— and told us he had the right to see his kid. He finally left when we told him we were quite comfortable arresting him for trespassing and tossing him in a cell until you arrived at the station today.”

Dave shifts slightly. “I might have needled him a bit after he called us Keystone cops.”

Noah raises his eyebrows. “What did you say?”

“I told him that teenagers avoiding their parents was practically an Olympic sport, and congratulated him on his son’s prowess,” Dave admits.

Noah can’t help it; he starts laughing. “Well, you’re not wrong. Thanks for handling it. I’m going to give Agent Marsh a call a little later to see if he knows anything, or can give me any intel.”

“Makes sense,” Paul replies. “But if I were you or Scott’s mom, I’d make sure their meeting takes place in front of witnesses.”

“Mel has already requested that Scott not see his dad without someone else there,” Noah says. “I’m going to put out an unofficial caution to the department.”

Dave smirks. “You mean, you’re going to tell everyone to keep an eye out for him without actually putting out a BOLO.”

“Exactly,” Noah agrees. “Again, I appreciate you two running him off last night. I doubt it would have gone well if I’d done it. We’ve had a somewhat contentious relationship.”

Paul raises his eyebrows. “Because you know he’s a mean drunk?”

“Pretty much,” Noah says. “You’re nearly off the clock. Write up your reports, and bring the dogs by tonight, okay? I think Stiles could do with a visit.”

Dave flashes a quick grin. “Sure thing, Sheriff. They would love to see their BFFs, too.”

“We’ll contribute to dinner,” Paul offers. “I’ll text Stiles to see what you all need.”

Not for the first time, Noah is grateful that everyone in the pack is willing to contribute to food costs. Derek has been buying at least half the groceries, but everyone chips in.

Noah is fairly certain that Mel is just glad not to have to worry about feeding Scott most of the time.

“Thanks, guys,” Noah replies.

He waits until after nine to call Abel Marsh. Those on first shift have all checked in, and are either busy at their desks or out on patrol, and Noah is grateful that the rhythm of the station has gone back to normal. 

He’s expecting to get the agent’s voicemail, but Marsh picks up on the second ring. “Agent Marsh.”

“It’s Sheriff Stilinski,” Noah says. “I hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time.”

There’s warmth in Marsh’s voice as he says, “Noah, good to hear from you. I just got into the office and was reviewing some reports. How are things in Beacon Hills?”

“About as quiet as things ever are,” Noah admits. “I was hoping to ask you for a favor.”

“Well, you can ask,” Marsh replies, sounding amused. “I can’t say whether I’ll be able to help, though.”

“I’m hoping you can tell me whether Agent Rafe McCall has been sent to Beacon Hills in an official capacity, or whether he’s here on a more personal mission,” Noah says.

There’s a long pause. “Can I give you a call back in about five minutes? I’d like to find somewhere a little more private.”

That sounds promising, as though Marsh actually has information, so Noah says, “Of course. I’ll be here.”

He hangs up when the line goes dead, and five minutes later, his cell phone rings. “Stilinski.”

“All right, sorry about that,” Marsh says. “It’s a bit of a tricky political situation, and probably not something I’d normally share, but his son is part of your pack, right? Stiles’ friend?”

“That’s right,” Noah confirms, looking out the window, but not really seeing anything. “Scott.”

Marsh hums. “Allison Argent’s boyfriend.”

“He’s coming around,” Noah says. “He’s been much more attached to the pack lately.”

“And that’s why I’m talking to you,” Marsh says on a sigh. “I know that a young wolf can be susceptible to the wrong influence.”

“You think McCall would be the wrong influence?” Noah asks.

“You’d know that better than I would,” Marsh replies. “From what I’ve heard, McCall has been bucking to get assigned to the Argent investigation so he can be closer to his son. The problem is, that’s not anywhere near his area of expertise. Usually, he’s working DOJ investigations.”

Noah frowns. “Am I under federal investigation?”

“Are you kidding me?” Marsh asks. “After how you handled the Argents? You actually invited us in, and not all small departments are willing to do that. You’re good—unless there’s something you need to tell me.”

Noah laughs. “There isn’t.”

“And you probably shouldn’t tell me even if there was something,” Marsh adds with good humor. “That’s the problem. He’s been angling to have an official reason to go to Beacon Hills, probably so he can find a way to strong-arm you into giving him access to his son, and no dice so far.”

“So, he might be here to find a reason to look into things officially,” Noah muses. “Well, isn’t that just peachy.”

“Has he been causing you problems?” Marsh asks.

Noah sighs. “Me? Not officially. Scott doesn’t want to see him, and McCall has shown up at the high school and Scott’s place of employment, so he stayed with us last night. Then McCall turned up at his ex-wife’s house, and a neighbor called her at work. I sent a couple of deputies to run him off, and he picked a fight before backing down.”

“Goddammit,” Marsh mutters. “Honestly, Noah, I advise you to keep things as aboveboard as possible. If he steps over the line, make an official report. I know we all hate doing that to a fellow law enforcement officer, but it will keep your hands clean.”

“Good advice,” Noah admits. “I’ll take it. I appreciate your candor, Abe.”

“I’m glad I was able to help,” Marsh replies. “I better get back to it.”

They say their goodbyes, and Noah lets out an audible groan. He’s been fairly lucky so far with the parents of the underage pack members. He and Mel are friends, and it had been a moot point with Isaac and Boyd. Erica’s parents are apparently so grateful that she’s healthy and has made friends that they’ve decided not to ask any questions.

But Noah has a feeling that Rafe McCall is going to be a problem without an easy solution.

Maria pages Noah on the intercom and says, “Sheriff, Mrs. McCall is here to see you if you have the time.”

“Send her in,” Noah replies. 

Mel appears a moment later, still dressed in scrubs, looking tired and harried. “Noah, I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” Noah asks. “None of this is your fault.”

Mel just shakes her head. “I could have insisted that Scott talk to his dad.”

“Is this the same kid we’re talking about?” Noah asks, amused. “You know Scott has a double dose of stubbornness.”

Mel smiles. “Both from his dad, of course.”

“If that’s what you need to tell yourself,” Noah teases. “But I think maybe facilitating a meeting here or at your house is warranted.”

Mel nods. “I did call the school this morning to ask them to ban Rafe from the premises. At the rate he’s going, he’s just going to alienate Scott past the point of any sort of reconciliation.”

“All right, maybe you can get Rafe to meet you this afternoon, and I’ll corral Scott after school,” Noah offers. He checks the pack calendar. “Looks like there’s no cross country practice, and Scott doesn’t have work.”

“I’ll text Rafe,” Mel promises. “I do appreciate your help.”

“We’re family,” Noah replies simply. “I’ll see you this afternoon.”

Noah shoots off a text to Scott, telling him that it would be for the best if he agreed to meet with his dad, with his mom and Noah present, so they could put things to bed.

Scott sends back a frowny face.

Noah responds with, I know it’s the last thing you want to do, but I confirmed that your dad isn’t here in an official capacity.

fine

Noah shrugs philosophically. If he can get Scott and his dad in the same room and avoid bloodshed, he’ll have been successful.

He has to respond to a call from Tara and Derek on a traffic stop that turned into a drug bust. The driver had been pulled over for an infraction, but then both Tara and Derek had smelled marijuana. The driver had made the mistake of agreeing to a search of the vehicle, probably not realizing that with their sensitive noses, they’ll know exactly where to look.

Instead of a spare tire, Derek found five bricks of marijuana in its place. With a bust this size, Tara needs the extra hands, and they’ll be taking the car apart.

The kid driving the car—and he’s young, maybe mid-20’s—is sitting on the grass by the side of the road in cuffs, his forehead resting on his knees. Noah imagines that he hadn’t expected his day to end like this.

Noah and Mark pull up at the same time, Noah behind Tara’s cruiser, Mark ahead of the stopped car.

“Where’s Parrish?” Noah asks as he comes to stand next to Mark by the trunk.

Mark shrugs. “We busted a kid tagging the side of a building, so I left Parrish at the station to write the report. That’s a big bust, rookie,” Mark comments as he looks at the bricks of marijuana in the trunk. “Might even be bigger once we take the car apart.”

“Hey, I smelled it, too,” Tara protests.

“You already know how good you are,” Mark counters. “Derek’s new, and he might not realize how big of a bust this is for our department.”

“I have some idea,” Derek says deadpan, “but I appreciate the accolades.”

Derek pauses. “I feel sorry for him, though,” he comments, looking at the kid. “Maybe I shouldn’t, but…”

Tara claps him on the shoulder. “The day we lose our empathy is the day we need to hand in our badges and guns, Derek. Stupid kids are going to do stupid things, and sometimes the consequences are devastating. We can have compassion.”

“We should have compassion,” Noah says. “Tara, take our miscreant to the station, please. Give Derek the masterclass on how we book people. Mark and I will wait for the tow truck.”

Derek gives Noah a nod, and he’s gentle when he pulls the kid up from the ground. “Come on,” Derek says, not unkindly. “You’re going to be okay. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually.”

Noah honestly couldn’t be prouder in that moment. The angry young man he’d first met wouldn’t have reached out like that, but Derek has turned into a kind and steady presence.

“That was a good hire, sir,” Mark says once they’ve driven off. “Parrish, too. Those boys are going to be excellent additions.”

Noah smiles. “Thanks. I suppose I can’t take credit for all of it, but Derek has come a long way.”

“I think you can take a lot of credit,” Mark says. “I remember what he was like when you pulled him in after his sister’s murder.”

Noah actually laughs at that. “Yeah, he was snarly, wasn’t he?”

“He was more than that, Noah,” Mark says gently. “He was a kid who had just lost his last link to the living. You gave him a family.”

Noah remembers what he’d said to Mel, about Scott being family, and he’d felt that before, but he feels it even more keenly now. 

He has a pack. He has a powerful, expansive pack.

“Sir, we have a report of a gunman at the Meadow Hills shopping center,” Maria says over the radio. “I’m sorry. I know you’re in the middle of a bust, but—“

“A gunman threatening the public trumps,” Noah says. “Has anyone been injured?”

“No reports of injuries yet,” Maria says. 

Noah turns to Mark. “I’m going to grab Parrish. Do you mind waiting here?”

Mark shakes his head. “Not at all. I’ll stick around and make sure the chain of custody is preserved.”

“Thanks, Rossi,” Noah says, then heads back to his vehicle and puts on the lights and sirens. He radios Maria to ask her to have Parrish waiting outside the station with a vest on.

Maria informs him that she’s already dispatched Tara and Derek, and Noah breathes a sigh of relief. Tara has a good head on her shoulders, and she’ll keep Derek in line.

Parrish is waiting at the back of the station, and he jumps into the passenger seat wearing a vest, with an assault rifle strapped to his chest.

“You good?” Noah asks him.

Parrish nods. “I’ve been in the sandbox, sir. One guy waving a gun around is one guy waving a gun around.”

“Fair enough,” Noah replies, putting on lights and sirens as they race towards the mall.

Tara radios while he’s still three minutes out. “Hale and I made entrance on the south. The suspect is menacing a young woman working a kiosk outside of Sears. We’re clearing the area, but we can’t get closer without risking him killing the girl, not unless we use deadly force.”

“Hold off on that for now, Deputy Graeme, and focus on clearing out the civilians,” Noah orders. “I’d like to try to talk him down if we can.”

“Yes, sir,” she replies stolidly.

“We’re going in through the Sears entrance, and we’ll clear people out along the way,” Noah tells Parrish.

Parrish nods. “Copy that.”

Noah parks right outside the entrance, and they run inside the store. Noah uses hand signals to direct Parrish to the left, thankful that they both have Army training to fall back on, and Parrish understands what Noah intends to do immediately.

They move through the store, sending people out of the entrance, and then someone pulls the fire alarm.

Noah honestly isn’t sure whether that’s going to help or hurt. It’s certainly going to help to get people to leave the building, but it could spook their gunman.

He glances over at Parrish, who just shrugs. They continue making their way through the store, past women’s apparel and the home goods section, then out into the mall itself.

Activating the fire alarm in one store alerts the rest of the mall, so there are people streaming out, everyone other than their gunman and a young woman who’s crying hysterically.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” the gunman is demanding. “Did you think I wouldn’t know that you fucked him?”

The one saving grace of this whole situation is that the gunman is clearly so focused on the woman that he’s not paying attention to the fire alarm or the fact that law enforcement is in the process of surrounding him.

Noah takes in the scene: the young woman had apparently been working at a kiosk selling cell phone accessories. Derek is crouched behind another kiosk about fifty feet away from the gunman. Tara is sheltering inside another store front behind him and to the right.

Parrish looks at Noah, and Noah has an idea. It’s probably a stupid idea, but he doesn’t think the man has seen them yet. Right now, they need to draw his attention away from the woman.

Noah motions Parrish to take up positions inside a store front. “I’m going to do something to break his attention. For the record, this doesn’t go in your report. I can’t risk alerting Tara on the radio, so when I move, I need you to move.”

Parrish just nods. “Yes, sir.”

Noah changes into his fur, then starts running, making sure that he’s in the man’s line of sight.

He hears the man shout, “What the fuck? What’s a wolf doing in here?”

Noah gets to a place of concealment, even as he hears a wordless exclamation and a grunt. Noah quickly transforms back, and he turns to see that Derek had managed to tackle the man, holding him down for Tara to cuff him, while Parrish keeps his aim steady.

The woman is still screaming. “Oh, my god. Oh, my god.”

Noah goes to her immediately, putting a hand on her shoulder and tugging her away. “Come on, it’s okay. You’re okay. Come over here and sit down, take some deep breaths for me.”

“I can’t believe Kyle would do that,” she moans as Noah tugs her away and gets her seated on the ground, her forehead resting on her knees. “I didn’t even sleep with Ryan!”

“It doesn’t matter,” Noah tries to sooth her. “No one deserves to be threatened like that. Has he ever displayed that kind of behavior before?”

“No, never,” she replies. “He’s always been really sweet!”

Noah doesn’t know if he believes her. There have been far too many occasions in his career where someone claimed that the behavior came out of nowhere only for a lot of red flags to be identified later. “All right, what’s your name?”

“Kim, Kim Roberts,” she says, and now she starts to sob hysterically. “Oh, my god, he could have killed someone!”

“But no one was hurt,” Noah points out. “That’s what we need to be grateful for at the moment, okay?”

She nods, but isn’t calming down. Noah is very grateful to turn her over to the paramedics when they arrive. He can’t see any injuries, but she might need to be treated for shock.

Parrish has already radioed dispatch to let them know paramedics are clear to enter, and the EMTs descend moments later. One of them wraps a blanket around Kim’s shoulders as the other takes her vitals.

Tara sidles up to him. “That was an interesting diversion.”

“It worked,” Noah says. “At least he didn’t shoot anyone. Do we have an ID on him?”

Tara hands him the driver’s license she’d apparently fished out of his pocket. “Kyle Jameson. We’ll run the name, but he’s not a frequent flyer, or I’d have recognized him.”

Noah checks his watch. It’s just past the noon hour now, which means he still has a few hours before he has to corral Scott and figure out what’s going on with Rafe McCall.

“And I was thinking this might be a quiet day,” Noah mutters. “Okay, let’s divide and conquer. Can you go with the victim to the hospital and get her statement? Derek can stay here for now and get names and contact information in case we need additional statements. I’ll take Jameson back to the station and get him booked.”

“Take Parrish with you,” Tara says. “Derek got a lesson on booking today. Wouldn’t do to leave Parrish out.”

Noah snorts. “Yeah. Good to know they’re both going to be steady in a volatile situation, I suppose. Most deputies go years without this kind of excitement.”

Tara raises her eyebrows. “Most deputies don’t serve in Beacon Hills.”

“Fair enough,” Noah says. “Parrish, you’re with me.”

Noah walks over to where Derek is waiting with the subject. “Parrish and I are going to book him while Tara accompanies the victim to the hospital. I need you to stay here and get names and contact information, then go pick Tara up.”

Derek glances around at the looky-loos that have started gathering now that the danger has passed, and he sighs. “Yes, sir. I already read him his rights.”

Noah takes Jameson’s arm, and Parrish takes his other arm as they head back out through Sears to Noah’s vehicle. Noah notices that Jameson seems out of it now that he’s in cuffs, blinking slowly and hanging his head.

“Do you need medical assistance?” Noah asks him.

Jameson shakes his head slowly. “No, I’m not hurt.”

The words come out slightly slurred, so it’s possible that he’s on something. Noah makes a mental note to have them do a tox screen at the jail once he’s booked.

Noah loads Jameson in the back of the vehicle, and heads back to the station with Parrish in the passenger seat.

And that’s when it starts to get weird. Really weird.

“What—where am I?” Jameson asks.

Noah might have assumed that he’s faking it except for the thin thread of real panic in his voice. He glances in the rearview mirror, and sees Jameson’s pale, sweaty face. “You’re in the back of a sheriff’s vehicle, heading to the station,” Noah replies, trying to keep his voice gentle.

He’s learned that you generally catch more flies with honey—unless they’re a bunch of insane werewolves, and then you just shoot them in the head.

Jameson shakes his head. “No, I mean—what happened? What did I do?”

“Did you take anything, son?” Noah asks. “Any prescription drugs or other substances?”

Jameson shakes his head. “No! I smoked a little weed yesterday, but I was fine! Oh, my god. Was I at the mall? Is Kim okay?”

Noah exchanges a look with Parrish, who turns in his seat to look at Jameson, saying gently, “You didn’t hurt anybody. You were just waving a gun around, making threats.”

“Give him his Miranda warnings again,” Noah says, keeping an eye on Jameson in the mirror. “He might not have understood when Hale gave them earlier.”

Parrish dutifully recites the Miranda warnings from memory, and asks, “Do you understand these rights?”

Jameson says in almost a moan, “Yes, but I don’t understand why I’m here!”

Noah decides to take his words at face value. “Did you have any concerns about Kim cheating on you with someone named Ryan?”

“What? No!” Jameson protests, then pauses. “Well, not really. They’d been texting a lot lately, but Kim said it was for a group project. She doesn’t have a reason to cheat on me.”

Jameson chokes on something and begins to cough, and Noah is grateful they’re so close to the station. Noah hears Jameson say, “Huh. I wonder when I swallowed a fly.”

Then he starts to seize in the backseat.

“Sheriff—“ Parrish begins.

“I see him,” Noah replies grimly, turning on lights and sirens and making a U-turn to head for the hospital.

Maybe they should have taken him there first thing, but there hadn’t been any signs of injury. The most likely explanation is that he’d taken something and is having a bad reaction to it, but this is Beacon Hills, so it’s possible that it’s supernatural. 

Then Noah thinks about that strange comment about swallowing a fly, and remembers that Barrow had a tumor full of flies. Stiles and Moira thought there was some kind of vengeance spirit on the loose.

Maybe there really hadn’t been any warning signs that Jameson could get violent. 

“God fucking dammit,” Noah mutters. “I hope this doesn’t end up spiraling out of control.”

Parrish glances at him. “You know what he meant about the fly, sir?”

“Barrow’s tumor was full of them,” Noah replies. “And no, I don’t have any idea what that means, but I’m going to need you to collect that fly.”

Parrish nods. “Yes, sir.”

“You’ll have to be quick about it once we get to the hospital,” Noah advises. “There’s a small kit in the glove compartment.”

Parrish fishes out the kit as Noah radioes dispatch, and they hit the hospital with lights and sirens still going. Parrish scoops up the fly, and a medical team converges on them with a gurney.

Parrish hands Noah the vial with the dead fly, and Noah says, “Stay with him. I’ll check in with Tara, then send her your way.”

Parrish nods and trots after the medical team, who are wheeling Jameson away on a gurney.

Noah pauses by the reception desk in the ER and asks after their victim, but Tara must have heard his voice, because she pokes her head out of a room. “In here, sir.”

Noah murmurs a thanks to the nurse and goes to join Tara. “How is she?”

“She was treated for shock and given something to calm her down,” Tara reports. “She’s still insisting that he’s never displayed that kind of behavior before, and the only precipitating event she could recall was working on a group project with a classmate. The suspect asked her why she’d been texting him so much, she showed him the messages, and he seemed to accept it at face value.”

Noah shrugs. “It’s possible that he did.” He holds up the vial with the fly in it. “Jameson seemed out of it after we took him into custody, and he coughed this up on the way to the station, right before he had a seizure.”

“A fly?” Tara asks skeptically. “I know we’ve seen some weird shit, sir, but…”

“Barrow had a tumor full of flies that broke open during the surgery,” Noah points out. “I plan on bringing this to Moira.”

Tara nods slowly. “If it’s magical in nature, what does that mean for us?”

Noah takes a deep breath. “Bluntly, it means we might be looking at a lot of incidents like this one.”

“But if they’re possessed, they can’t be held responsible…” She trails off. “Except who’s going to believe that they were possessed by a fucking fly?”

“Exactly,” Noah replies. “We can’t worry about that right now. The chips will fall where they may. Did you get enough from the vic?”

Tara nods. “I assume you left one of the boys with Jameson.”

“Parrish, and yes,” Noah says. “Would you stay with him until Derek can pick you both up? I hate to do this, but if I don’t get things straightened out between Scott and his dad, I think it will get worse.”

Tara waves him off. “Don’t worry about it, sir. Let’s nip at least one problem in the bud today. Although, if Stiles can come up with a spell to swat all flies in a 12-mile radius, that might be for the best.”

Noah laughs. “I’ll ask. I doubt anyone would complain.”

At this point, Noah has about thirty minutes to get to the high school and pick Scott up. Mel had confirmed the plan just a little earlier.

Noah pulls up in front of the high school when a text from Stiles comes through: good luck

Noah knows that’s a subtle warning that Scott is not dealing with the situation well, and Noah can’t blame him. He knows how rocky things had been between Rafe and Mel at the end, and how angry Scott had been with his father over some of his behavior. 

And now Rafe is stalking him, which is going to piss Scott off, and cause his wolf to be territorial and growly.

“I really did think today was going to be quiet,” Noah mutters to himself.

Scott approaches the vehicle with his backpack over his shoulder, flanked by Boyd and Isaac on one side with Danny on the other. A young woman trails behind, clearly wanting to be part of the group and not quite there yet.

Based on the description Stiles gave him, Noah thinks she has to be Kira Yakimura. Noah has the windows rolled down, so he easily catches the faint scent of ozone that seems to hang around her, and he has to admit that his kid had been right.

Whatever she is, Kira is certainly not human. Or not wholly human.

“You sure you don’t want one of us to come?” Isaac asks anxiously as they approach. “We can just hang around outside the house even.”

Scott manages a smile. “No, it’s okay. My mom and the sheriff will be there. I’ll be fine.”

“Text us later if you just want company,” Boyd says. “Or we can crash at the house tonight.”

“The house” is always a reference to Noah’s house.

Scott looks past them at Kira. “I’ll call you later? Maybe we can study?”

“Sure,” Kira says with a hopeful smile.

Scott climbs into the passenger seat and drops his pack on the floor. “Sorry about that.”

“Sorry for what?” Noah asks. “And tell Kira she can join you at the house if she wants. Or you can go to her house, since your dad doesn’t know where she lives.”

Scott snorts. “She doesn’t want to deal with my mess.”

“Word to the wise, everybody has some level of mess,” Noah advises. “And that girl definitely has more going on than what’s immediately obvious.”

“I think it’s getting stronger,” Scott admits. “I mean, I could sense it a bit when I first met her, but not as much.”

“I could smell the ozone,” Noah says. “So, let’s not reveal our secrets, but she’s welcome to come over.”

Scott nods. “Thanks, Noah.”

“That being said,” Noah begins. “I’m going to need you to keep your cool today. We cannot risk your dad finding out about werewolves right now. Maybe we can tell him eventually, but his behavior so far has been somewhat erratic.”

Scott tips his head back. “What does he want?”

“He’s been trying to find an official reason to be in Beacon Hills, according to my contact,” Noah replies. “Which means he’s here for you.”

“What if I don’t want him here?” Scott mutters. “It’s not like I need or want him around. I have the pack. I have you.”

“Do me a favor, and don’t say that, okay?” Noah asks. “If he feels like you’ve replaced him, that’s going to make things worse.”

Scott takes a deep breath. “I need to treat this like dealing with the Argents, like he’s the enemy, but he doesn’t know I’m looking at him like the enemy.”

Noah is proud of Scott for figuring that out. “Pretty much.”

“And not make him super interested in the pack and trying to win me back or whatever,” Scott adds. “I suck at lying.”

“You’re not lying,” Noah says as he drives away from the school. “You can be angry with him, because he’s going to expect that. You can tell him that you’ve learned how to live without him. That much is true. Let him convince you that he wants some amount of contact, and agree to go slowly.”

Scott gives him a look. “You do realize that Stiles is the one who wants to go into the FBI, not me. I want to be a veterinarian.”

“Do you love this pack?” Noah asks, although he already knows the answer.

Scott nods. “More than anything, other than my mom.”

“Well, your mom is part of the pack, so there’s no competition,” Noah replies. “But we all protect the pack in our own ways. You’re going to be fine.”

But Noah thinks about the vial with the fly in his pocket, and feels a niggling sense of doubt.

There are never any guarantees in life, but Jameson going a little bit crazy through no fault of his own? It’s the stuff of nightmares.

Noah pushes that doubt to the side, though, and then pulls up in front of the McCall house. He can see Mel’s car in the driveway, next to a four-door sedan that’s completely unremarkable.

“Just be cool as a cucumber,” Noah advises.

Scott gives him a look. “Now you sound like Stiles.”

“Where do you think he gets it from?” Noah asks.

Scott trudges into the house with every evidence of reluctance, and maybe he feels the same. Noah follows a couple of steps behind.

Noah probably should feel as though he’s intruding on private family business, but Scott and Mel are both part of his pack, and Rafe McCall isn’t. He feels a protective urge.

McCall is standing in the middle of the living room, wearing a suit and tie, his stance already aggressive. That doesn’t bode well.

Mel is standing over to the side, her arms tightly crossed, and Noah knows her well enough to see the stress in her expression. 

McCall’s eyes immediately go to Noah. “What is he doing here?”

“I asked him to come,” Scott replies. “Since things seem to be escalating.”

“I just want to talk to you,” McCall replies, clearly striving to keep his tone even.

Scott crosses his arms. “So? Talk.”

McCall is clearly floundering at that. Noah gets the sense that McCall would have preferred to have an official reason to be here, just to have a place to start. 

Scott has a good heart, and his expression softens slightly. “Dad, I just wish you’d stop showing up places. You haven’t even texted me. You’ve been ambushing me.”

“I’m sorry,” McCall finally says. “I didn’t realize how that would look.”

Noah barely refrains from rolling his eyes. He refuses to believe that a highly trained FBI agent wouldn’t know how it looks; ambushing Scott had been the point.

“Okay, Dad,” Scott says. “I think we can probably have a conversation if you promise to stop stalking me.”

McCall actually cracks a smile at that. “I promise.”

Scott glances at Noah. “I think I’m good.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Mel says.

“You okay?” Noah asks by the front door.

Mel sighs. “He tried to tell me he was here on official business and bluster his way through, but I called him out, and he admitted that he just wants to reconnect with Scott.”

Noah nods. “Okay, well—be careful. I had someone with no criminal history waving a gun around the mall today.”

“Something tells me that it’s part of the Beacon Hills weirdness,” Mel says wearily.

Noah hitches a shoulder. “I’ll be asking Moira for her expert opinion, but yeah.”

“I’ll be careful,” Mel promises. “And I still have that Taser you gave me.”

Noah offers a hug, and she accepts, clinging tightly for a moment. “Thank you for whatever you said to Scott,” Mel whispers.

“I wish I could take credit,” Noah says. “That was pretty much all him. You raised a good kid.”

“You deserve a little bit of that credit,” Mel says.

Noah holds his thumb and forefinger about an inch apart. “I’ll take that much.”

Mel laughs. “I’ll give you a call later.”

Noah just hopes that things don’t go off the rails.

~~~~~

Stiles knows that Scott is dreading the meeting with his dad, and he really wishes that he could make him feel better. “You know it doesn’t matter, right?” Stiles says as they’re collecting their lunch trays. “No matter what, you’ll have my dad as the Alpha.”

“Yeah, I know,” Scott replies. “I’ll be fine. I just want to get it over with and get past it.”

Lydia has been sitting with them at lunch regularly, but she looks troubled today. 

“You okay, Lydia?” Stiles asks her as he sits down.

Lydia grimaces. “No. I’ve been having nightmares about deaths, but I can’t figure out who I’m screaming for. And Mom wants me to see a psychiatrist, even though I told her it would be useless.”

“Danny and I are meeting with the coven after school tomorrow,” Stiles says. “Why don’t you come with us? Maybe we’ll be able to hone in on it somehow.”

Lydia shrugs. “It’s not the worst idea I’ve heard.”

That’s high praise coming from Lydia Martin, so Stiles just shrugs.

Danny sits down a moment later, and Stiles says, “I invited Lydia to go with us after school tomorrow.”

“Tutu will probably enjoy meeting her,” Danny says easily.

“You’re seeing your dad after school, right?” Isaac asks Scott.

Scott grimaces. “Yeah. But the sheriff said he’d be there, so it will be fine.”

“The sheriff is awesome,” Erica agrees. “I have no idea what he said to my parents, but they’ve been cool.”

“Really cool,” Cora corrects. “They were basically okay with me moving in.”

“Probably because they don’t have to feed you,” Erica comments. “Or me. I mean, I’m pretty sure they don’t care about us sleeping there because they have literally zero worries.”

“They offloaded all that onto the sheriff,” Cora adds. “But we get what we want, so who are we to complain?”

“Exactly,” Erica agrees.

Stiles really does appreciate the fact that everyone else has come to understand just how awesome his dad is. “My dad is the best.”

“No question,” Boyd murmurs his agreement. “But it’s a little weird to have reliable adults around.”

“Very weird,” Isaac agrees.

“Are we talking to Mr. Yukimura after lunch?” Danny asks Stiles.

Stiles nods. “Yeah, I think so.”

“About what?” Lydia asks.

Stiles glances at Danny, who replies, “We’ll tell you after school.”

That’s probably the right call, so Stiles doesn’t disagree.

Lunch over, they dump their trays, and Stiles loops Batman’s leash over his wrist. History is their next class, so he and Danny head there immediately to catch Mr. Yukimura before anyone else arrives.

Stiles likes Mr. Yukimura and his teaching style, and he hopes that he can at least point them in the right direction.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Mr. Yukimura says as they enter the classroom. “Have you decided what your project is going to be yet?”

“We actually had a question for you,” Stiles says. “About the history of Beacon Hills.”

Mr. Yukimura crosses his arms, his expression somewhat amused. “You do realize I’m from New York, right?”

“But you seem to know a lot about the area,” Stiles says, hoping he sounds persuasive. 

“Go on,” Mr. Yukimura says. “If I can answer your question, I will.”

Stiles glances at Danny, who asks, “Was there an internment camp in this area?”

Surprise flickers in their teacher’s eyes, and he seems taken aback. “Why would you ask about an internment camp?”

“Curiosity?” Stiles ventures. He’s not sure he and Danny should cop to the fact that they think there was some past event that would demand a call for vengeance.

“And that’s it?” Mr. Yukimura says. “Just curiosity?”

Danny hesitates. “My grandmother says that Beacon Hills has a tendency to attract certain things, and more so when there have been certain—events. It’s like there’s a magnet running through the town.”

“You’re talking about the telluric currents,” Mr. Yukimura eventually says.

Stiles looks at Danny, and he shrugs. “Tutu didn’t say we couldn’t.”

Stiles takes a deep breath and holds out a hand, calling a small flame. If Kira isn’t human, then it stands to reason that one or both of her parents might not be either. He doesn’t have permission to say anything about the pack, but the reveal of his magic is different.

Plus, it might get them the answers they need that much faster. Stiles has a feeling that time might be of the essence.

Mr. Yukimura takes a deep, audible breath. “I see.” He glances towards the door. “We can talk more about this after school.”

Stiles assumes that means there’s something more to talk about. He and Danny make their way to their seats, and Danny leans in close to Stiles. “Was that wise?”

Stiles shrugs. “I don’t know, but it felt important. We need those answers, and he might be more willing to tell us what we need to know if he knows I have magic.”

Danny blows out a breath. “You’re going to be the one to tell Moira.”

“We can tell her together,” Stiles counters. “You were the one who brought up the telluric currents.”

“That’s fair,” Danny admits after a moment.

They’re discussing the Pacific theater during WWII, and Stiles does find the subject matter interesting. With Batman leaning against his leg under the desk, it’s easier to stay present, even with the worry sitting in the back of his head.

He has krav maga after school, so hopefully the conversation with Mr. Yukimura won’t take too long.

Stiles finishes out his day in gym, but doesn’t bother with the shower since he’s just going to get sweaty again. He claps Scott on the shoulder. “It’s going to be cool, dude. My dad is great backup.”

“I know,” Scott says glumly. “And I know it needs to be done. Dad doesn’t stop once he gets an idea in his head, and I don’t want him to keep showing up places unannounced.”

“Just remember that you have the pack,” Stiles says. “And pack is forever, even if your dad is an asshole.”

Scott manages a smile. “Yeah, I know. Thanks. Do you think Mr. Yukimura will tell you what’s going on?”

Stiles shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t even know if the answers he can give us will help.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Scott says. “Or you and Moira will.”

Stiles slings an arm over Scott’s shoulders. “Just remember to keep your cool, okay?”

“I will,” Scott promises.

Stiles squeezes his shoulder and then disengages. He meets Danny outside the locker room, and Danny raises his eyebrows. “No shower?”

“No judgment,” Stiles says. “I have krav maga after this, so I’m just going to get gross again.”

Danny shakes his head. “Is that why you gave up on lacrosse? I thought you just hated physical activity.”

“I hate physical activity that I suck at,” Stiles replies. “Turns out, I don’t suck at judo or krav maga.”

Danny gives him a sideways grin. “You really did kind of suck, although you had your moments of brilliance.”

Stiles hitches a shoulder. “Turns out what I’m best at is that thing we both do, so I can live with it.”

“Once more into the breach?” Danny asks.

“I guess so,” Stiles says. “It would be nice if there wasn’t a breach at some point.”

“Guess we’d better get on cleansing the Nemeton and the telluric currents then,” Danny says wryly.

Stiles laughs and pets Batman’s ears. “No pressure, though.”

Mr. Yukimura is waiting for them in his classroom. “I had to speak with my wife. There are secrets that aren’t mine to tell, but she’s agreed to speak with your grandmother, Mr. Mahealani, if you would arrange it.”

Danny blinks. “It’s not just my grandmother. It’s our coven.”

“She assumed as much,” Mr. Yukimura says with a knowing smile. “She sensed the wards, and she said she thought there was a coven in Beacon Hills.”

“I have krav maga after this,” Stiles blurts out.

“I’ll text Tutu,” Danny says. “We can meet up at our place after you’re done, and you can eat at ours.”

“That works,” Stiles replies, then looks to Mr. Yukimura. “Does that work for you?”

He smiles. “Well, it’s a better situation than we thought we’d face when we got here. We thought the nogitsune would have already possessed someone, and we’d be dealing with the resulting chaos.”

Stiles hitches a shoulder. “Small favors, I guess. I’ve been worried about the nogitsune for months now, ever since it broke free of the Nemeton.”

“Are you worried about yourself?” Mr. Yukimura asks.

Stiles pulls the neck of his t-shirt down to display his tattoo. “Nah. I got this.”

“Damn, dude,” Danny says. “Is that—there’s a magical signature?”

Stiles shrugs. “Yeah. Moira has a guy.”

“I might need to talk to her later,” Danny replies.

“It’s a conversation worth having,” Stiles agrees.

Mr. Yukimura is watching the entire conversation with an odd expression on his face. “I have to say, Beacon Hills has been something of a surprise.”

Stiles hitches a shoulder. “Some of the surprises have been good, I hope.”

He chuckles. “A few of them, yes.”

“I’d better get going,” Stiles says. “You’ll text me, Danny?”

“Sure thing,” Danny agrees easily.

Stiles needs to move if he doesn’t want to be late, so he jogs out to his Jeep with Batman and secures him in the backseat. 

The dojo is only about fifteen minutes away, and Stiles grabs his gym bag and heads inside with a few minutes to spare. 

“Hi, Stiles,” Leigh calls. “Busy day?”

“Moderately,” Stiles admits. “But not too bad.”

He’d changed into a pair of joggers and a fitted t-shirt after gym, so he’s ready to go. Stiles finds a place on the floor and starts to stretch. Batman stretches out next to him, his head on his paws.

Sensei O.B. appears right on time, and he and Leigh lead the class as usual. Stiles likes the rhythm and discipline of the class, learning how to strike and block, how to stay on your feet and respond to various situations and get out of holds.

It’s a good secondary practice to judo, which teaches a lot of the same skills, but with more of an emphasis on self defense. By the end of the hour, he’s sore and sweaty, but feels more at ease.

Not that krav maga is going to help him stave off possession, but that’s what the tattoo is for.

“Good work today, Stiles,” Sensei O.B. says gruffly. “You’re coming along.”

“I’m trying to not flail so much,” Stiles admits. “So, thanks.”

“It takes some people longer than others to grow into their limbs,” Sensei O.B. says with a wry smile. “Keep it up.”

Stiles checks his phone as he leaves the dojo and sees a text from Scott: all good having dinner with mom and dad 2nite

That’s a little surprising, but maybe Scott agreed to it in order to calm things down. Stiles figures he’ll get the full story either later in the evening or the next day.

He also has a text from Moira: We’re having dinner with the coven tonight. We’ll meet with the Yukimuras after.

Stiles kind of loves that Moira refuses to use anything other than complete sentences and proper punctuation while texting.

Once he gets home, Stiles takes Batman’s vest off and lets him out into the backyard. He’s not surprised to find the house empty with his dad and Derek at work, Scott with his parents, and everyone else picking up shifts after school on days when there isn’t cross country or lacrosse.

Stiles heads upstairs and gets cleaned up, pulling on a pair of his nicest jeans and a long-sleeve polo. He figures it never hurts to make a good first impression, and based on what Mr. Yukimura had said about needing to talk to his wife, Stiles thinks she might be an obstacle.

He shoots off a text to his dad to let him know where he’ll be for dinner, and calls Batman back in to put his vest back on. “Sorry, buddy,” Stiles says. “It’s going to be a working evening tonight, but I promise I’ll get Dave to bring your BFFs over and we can get some play time in.”

Batman whuffs and licks Stiles’ face, as if to reassure him that he doesn’t mind an evening on duty.

“You’re the best boy, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise,” Stiles says, pressing his forehead to the top of Batman’s head.

Batman rests his chin on Stiles’ shoulder, and Stiles lets himself just stay there for a long moment.

There’s a brief knock on the door and then the sound of a key in the lock. Everyone in the pack has a key to the house, but Stiles is fairly certain that it’s Moira.

Sure enough, she buzzes inside with her characteristic energy, wearing dark green pants, a green and white patterned blouse, matching green Chucks, and a brown leather jacket.

She sees him on the floor with Batman, and asks sympathetically, “Rough day, mo chroi?”

Stiles shakes his head. “Not especially. I just really wanted to hug my dog.”

She smiles and smooths down his collar when he stands up. “That’s what he’s there for.”

“You’re not mad about me showing magic to Mr. Yukimura, are you?” Stiles asks anxiously.

Moira shakes her head. “No, it’s your magic, and you had good reason to do so. There will be times when it serves us to reveal the coven without revealing the pack, and vice versa.”

Stiles just shakes his head. “I don’t know, Moira. I just got a feeling.”

“Listen to your gut,” Moira advises. “You’re a smart boy, and you’ve learned how to use your head.”

“You mean, I’ve learned how to let the adults adult?” Stiles asks slyly.

Moira laughs. “Yes, I do mean that. Come on. Noelani is a great cook, and I would hate to be late.”

She drives them in her Prius, with Batman in the backseat. Alana is the one to meet them at the front door, and she busses Moira’s cheek then does the same to Stiles. 

“Well, won’t this be fun?” she says brightly with a hint of mischief in her eyes. “You do meet the most interesting people, Stiles.”

“Maybe I’m as much of a beacon as the town,” Stiles jokes, but immediately realizes that the joke falls flat.

“Don’t even put that in the universe, Stiles,” Moira replies seriously. 

Stiles winces. “Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Alana says comfortingly. “But Moira is correct. Best not to invite that sort of thing, because the Nemeton is already acting as a pull. I can guarantee that the werewolves and the banshee you know are not the only supernatural creatures in Beacon Hills.”

Stiles blows out a breath. “Yeah, I figured.”

“I checked with Moira, and she said you weren’t allergic to shellfish, but I probably should have asked whether you liked shrimp,” Alana says, putting an arm around Stiles’ shoulders.

Stiles enjoys the more masculine energy of the pack, as well as the more feminine energy of the coven. “I do,” Stiles admits. “We don’t have it very often, but I like it.”

“Good,” Alana says. “Mom is making garlic shrimp.”

Stiles figures that must be a traditional dish, based on her tone, but he knows almost nothing about Hawaiian cuisine, other than what he’s previously eaten from the Mahealanis. 

“I’m sure it will be great,” Stiles says. “Everything you all have cooked has been.”

“Well, we’ll have a good meal before the Yukimuras arrive,” Alana says.

Noelani is standing next to Danny at the stove, but she turns as Stiles and Moira enter the kitchen. “Come over here, you two.”

She gives Moira a kiss on the lips, chaste but intimate, and then gives Stiles a kiss on the forehead. “There’s our bold one.”

“Sorry?” Stiles offers.

Noelani snorts. “Fortune favors the bold sometimes, child. And you had reason. Set the table, will you?”

“Is Mr. Mahealini joining us tonight?” Stiles asks.

Alana shakes her head. “No, he’s on a business trip, so it will just be the coven for dinner.”

Stiles knows his way around the kitchen at this point, and he puts out plates—real plates—and silverware, as well as the cloth napkins that Alana favors.

The platter of shrimp and a large bowl of rice goes on the table, as well as a dish full of steamed broccoli. Stiles is hungry, but he’s cautious about taking too much.

The shrimp is succulent, slightly spicy and intensely flavored with garlic, and the rice is fluffy but also fragrant and slightly sticky. 

“This is good,” Stiles says enthusiastically. “Really, really good.”

“We should go to Hawaii sometime, Stiles,” Danny says. “Have you ever thought about surfing?”

Stiles grimaces. “Not really?”

Danny grins. “Well, if we go, you should try it, but no pressure.”

Stiles likes the idea of going to Hawaii, although he has no idea when that would happen, or how they’d be able to afford it. “It would be fun.”

“Maybe a graduation gift for the pack,” Moira muses. 

Stiles thinks that would be awesome, but he knows better than to hold his breath. With their luck, something will come up and prevent them from going anywhere.

Still, it’s a nice thought: graduation, vacation, college. A career. Maybe not the career he dreamed of before Kate happened—who ever heard of an FBI agent with a service dog?—but a career.

“Don’t worry, mo chroi,” Moira says, apparently doing that mind reading thing that she’s so good at sometimes. “It’s my job to make sure you get a chance to experience any number of beautiful things.”

“It’s a little ways off,” Noelani says. “And that gives us plenty of time to plan.”

Danny looks a little wistful. “A big vacation with the whole friend group would be a lot of fun.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Alana says firmly. “Now, let’s talk about what we’re going to tell the Yukimuras.”

“They already know about the coven,” Stiles says. “And we know they have something a little extra going on.”

Moira shakes her head. “We can’t talk about the pack, but it’s likely to come up.”

“Along with everything else that has happened,” Stiles says. “I understand.”

“It’s going to be fairly difficult to talk about things without werewolves coming into the picture,” Danny points out. 

Stiles frowns. “Should I call my dad?”

“Let’s hold off,” Alana says. “In the past, foxes and wolves haven’t really gotten along.”

Stiles grimaces. “So, does that mean we have to worry about another Argent situation?”

“Not getting along doesn’t mean mortal enemies,” Moira says with amusement. “And we all know that generalizations are just that.”

“True,” Stiles says, comforted. He likes what he’s seen of Kira so far, and he really hopes that she and Scott will be good for each other.

Moira nods. “As long as we’re agreed that we’re not going to say anything about the pack.”

“I agree,” Noelani says.

Alana and Danny both nod, and Stiles adds, “They probably searched my name, so they’d have a pretty good idea what triggered my magic.”

“We’ll keep the focus on that aspect,” Moira says. “And we’ll see what they have to say.”

Stiles helps with the clean up, having been around enough to be considered one of the family.

“Hey, you worried about this?” Danny asks, squeezing Stiles’ shoulder.

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

Danny nods. “Let me know if that changes.”

The thing that Stiles has learned over the last couple of years is that it’s possible to have multiple homes. He has his dad, he has the pack, he has the coven, and he has the dojo.

They’re not all equal, but they are all important.

The kitchen is sparkling once again by the time the Yukimuras show up at half-past seven. Alana leads them into the living room, and Mrs. Yukimura stops cold at the sight of Moira and Noelani sitting next to each other on the couch.

“I should have known,” she says after a moment. “I thought the warding signature was familiar, but it was different enough that I didn’t put two and two together.” Mrs. Yukimura glances at Stiles. “I assume that’s because your student was involved.”

Moira smiles. “It’s good to see you again, Noshiko. It’s been too long.”

Mrs. Yukimura sighs, looking at Noelani. “I definitely should have recognized your magical signature.”

“I didn’t have anything to do with setting the wards,” Noelani replies, clearly amused. “That was all Moira and Stiles. I came after my daughter and grandson told me that an old friend had come to town and was interested in forming a coven.”

Mrs. Yukimura just shakes her head. “This is my husband, Ken.”

“My student, Stiles Stilinski, Noelani’s grandson, Danny, and her daughter, Alana.”

They all sit down in the living room, and Alana asks, “Would you two like some tea?”

Mrs. Yukimura says, “I would, thank you.”

“I would also take tea,” Mr. Yukimura replies. He seems content to let Mrs. Yukimura take the lead.

Alana smiles. “I’ll be right back.”

Mrs. Yukimura takes a deep breath. “I’m not sure how to begin now.”

“Let me help you,” Moira says gently. “The nogitsune was trapped in the Nemeton. It’s a vengeance spirit that is taking the form of flies for right now, and the wards have slightly weakened it.”

“I am older than I look,” Mrs. Yukimura begins.

Stiles feels the pieces fall into place. “Wait, you’re a kitsune. That’s where Kira gets it from. You called the nogitsune. You were—you had reason to call for vengeance.”

Mrs. Yukimura’s eyebrows keep going up, and she turns to Moira. “Is he always like this?”

“Stiles is always and forever himself,” Moira replies. “He’s been my best student, and his instincts are quite good, when he allows himself to think through things.”

Stiles winces, but he knows that Moira is right about that. Too often, he tries to handle things on his own, although he’s getting better.

“Ah, well, I also have a teenager,” Mrs. Yukimura says. “How did you know about Kira?”

“Her aura flares,” Stiles admits once Moira gives him a nod. “Sorry, and not to get her into trouble, but it’s pretty obvious.”

“She’s young,” Mrs. Yukimura says after a pause. “As she gains more control, it won’t be so obvious. She’s a very young fox.”

“How long can kitsunes live?” Stiles asks, his curiosity piqued.

Mrs. Yukimura replies. “It depends. I’m 900 years old, but Kira is just as old as she appears.”

Stiles manages to hold back his holy shit with some effort.

Mr. Yukimura smiles. “I can see you just bursting with questions, Stiles.”

“I have so many questions,” Stiles says. “I mean, history is super interesting, and you’ve seen so much of it.”

Mrs. Yukimura laughs, but she sounds a little sad. “I have, including things that caused me to call for vengeance.”

“There was an internment camp here,” Stiles says, locking eyes with her.

“There was,” she confirms. “And the man I loved was killed in the worst possible way. They sought to cover it up, and I had to prevent that from happening.”

“But they covered it up anyway,” Stiles guesses.

“The camp was in the same location that Eichen House is now,” Mrs. Yukimura agrees.

Stiles drums his fingers on his leg, his other hand going to pet Batman’s ears. “Huh.”

Moira turns toward him. “Do you have an idea?”

“I’m still thinking about it,” Stiles replies. “I’ll let you know.”

Moira smiles. “As I said, Stiles has good instincts when he has time to think about it.”

Stiles thinks about the echoes of the past, how they reverberate, and he wonders if Eichen House might still be haunted by those ghosts.

“Do we need to be worried about additional problems?” Danny asks.

Mrs. Yukimura says, “This sort of spirit lives to cause chaos and strife. It feeds off of it. I think we can count on it.”

Moira takes a deep breath. “Well, then, the only thing we can do is exactly what we’ve been doing. We’ll take the precautions that we can.”

Stiles definitely gets the feeling that there’s more going on than what the Yukimuras have said—someone who’s lived for 900-plus years is bound to have a few tricks up her sleeve. 

Still, they’ve barely met, and Moira isn’t telling them everything either.

When they leave, Stiles says, “I don’t think they were telling us everything.”

Noelani snorts. “No, they weren’t. If nothing else, I would assume that they have a way of sensing when someone is possessed.”

“Because she said that no one had been possessed,” Danny says. “I noticed that, too.”

Moira hums. “We’ll need to talk to your father about Eichen House, Stiles. If there’s anything trapped there, we’ll need to cleanse it, and that might prove tricky.”

Stiles nods. “Yeah, okay. He was on the day shift today, but I’ll send him a text to see if we should stop by the station or just go straight to the house.”

His dad responds almost right away, letting Stiles know that he’s still at the station, and he and Moira should drop by.

Stiles frowns at his phone. “Dad’s still at the station, and I think he wants to see you, Moira.”

“Ah, then perhaps we have an answer as to whether the nogitsune is influencing things,” Moira murmurs. “I’ll see you both tomorrow,” she adds, looking at Noelani and Alana.

The sheriff’s station isn’t that far from the Mahealanis’ house, so it takes about 20 minutes to get there.

Dave and Paul are seated at their desks, and Tara and Derek are there, too.

“Uh, oh,” Stiles says under his breath. “Something definitely went down today.”

Moira puts a hand on his shoulder. “Easy there, young spark.”

Derek looks up and waves. “Your dad said you guys should go straight back to his office when you got here.”

“How’s it going, Stiles?” Dave calls.

“I’m good,” Stiles replies. “I see you guys are busy.”

“Derek had his first drug bust today,” Tara says. “And then we got interrupted before we could finish our reports, so here we still are.”

Stiles takes a detour to offer Derek a fist bump. “Congratulations, dude.”

Derek actually cracks a smile at that. “Thanks.”

Stiles follows Moira back to his dad’s office, and his dad is behind his desk, a weary expression on his face, although he smiles at the sight of Stiles. “Hey, kiddo. How did dinner go?”

“Good,” Stiles replies. “We have some info, but it sounds like you may have more.”

“Have a seat,” he says, and reaches into his desk drawer, handing a plastic vial to Moira, reaching across the desk to do so. “You tell me.”

Moira opens the vial and shakes a dead fly out onto her palm. She frowns at it, and it goes up in a flare of green fire. “It has the same magical signature as what was found in Barrow’s tumor. What happened?”

“A kid with no rap sheet, and no history of violence, threatened his girlfriend at the mall with a gun,” Noah says grimly. “We were transporting him back here when he coughed that up. He ended up having a seizure, so he’s currently in the hospital.”

“Was anyone hurt?” Stiles asks, feeling a dawning sense of horror. 

Noah shakes his head. “No, thank god. No one was harmed, although there were a few traumatized folks, including the girlfriend.”

“Well, I guess there’s that,” Stiles mutters.

“Can we expect more of this?” Noah asks Moira.

Moira nods slowly. “I think we have to.” Then she starts going over what they’d found out from the Yukimuras. 

“I want to meet them,” Noah says firmly. “I don’t want to scare them off, but I think they need to know the lay of the land, and I want our cards on the table.”

Moira nods. “I agree that would be wise.”

“All right,” Noah says. “You have your regular coven meeting tomorrow, right?”

Moira nods. “And the full moon is the day after that.”

“Pack meeting on the full moon,” Noah finally says after he stares up at the ceiling for a long moment. “Everyone will be off work. We tell everyone what’s going on and lay all of our cards on the table.”

Moira nods. “I agree. At the very least, the pack needs to be on the look out for odd behavior.”

Noah glances at Stiles. “What about you, kiddo? You got any thoughts?”

“I have a lot of thoughts,” Stiles admits. “But nothing super concrete yet, other than we probably need to find a reason to visit Eichen House, sooner rather than later.”

His dad leans back in his chair, rocking back and forth. “Let me give that some thought.”

Stiles opens his mouth, because he has a fairly wild idea, and Noah raises his hand. “You’re not going undercover.”

Stiles deflates. “It was just a thought. I mean, I have a service dog, so I look crazy enough.”

His dad fixes him with a look. “Have you thought about the fact that they’re not going to allow you to have him with you?”

Stiles pauses. “That…had not crossed my mind, no.”

“I didn’t think it had,” his dad replies, sounding amused. “If anyone goes in undercover, it’s not going to be you, kiddo.”

“I could at least use magic to get myself out,” Stiles says. “And I have an anti-possession tattoo.”

“You’re still my son,” his dad replies. “And it’s still not happening.”

It’s not like Stiles really wants to get locked into a mental health facility, so he doesn’t argue further. “Got it.”

“Go on home, and tell Derek to leave, too, if he hasn’t already,” his dad says. “I’ll probably be there in an hour or so.”

Stiles nods. “Sure thing.”

He’s not terribly surprised when Moira remains seated.

Derek is still at his desk, although Tara has apparently left. “Thought I’d offer you a ride,” Derek says. “I’m assuming Moira drove.”

“She did,” Stiles admits, although that’s probably not a surprise, given that Moira prefers to drive if given an opportunity.

Derek stands up, and Stiles has to admit that the sight of Derek in uniform is certainly reaffirming his bisexuality. He should probably try to tamp that down, but in his own defense, so many people at his dad’s station look really hot in uniform.

Stiles just can’t allow himself to think about it too much.

“So, Dad said there was some excitement today,” Stiles comments as Derek drives them back to the house.

Derek blows out a breath. “You could say that. It was an interesting day.”

“Still set on a career as a law enforcement officer?” Stiles asks, mostly just to make conversation.

Derek nods. “Definitely, especially in Beacon Hills.”

“I will admit that having the sheriff’s department in the know has made things easier,” Stiles admits.

Derek glances over at him. “I get why you wouldn’t want to get him involved, but I have to agree.”

“I still think we need to find a way to get into Eichen House,” Stiles mutters.

“If there’s a way, your dad and Moira will find it,” Derek says soothingly. “You don’t need to worry about it.”

Stiles sighs. “I know. They’re great, and very competent, but—I just have this feeling.”

“Don’t you always have that feeling?” Derek asks.

Stiles glances over his shoulder to see Batman in the backseat. “Yeah…”

“So, maybe give them a little time to work,” Derek replies.

“Right,” Stiles replies.

Derek pulls up in front of their house, reaching over and squeezing the back of Stiles’ neck. “We’ll keep an eye out. I’m glad you pushed for that tattoo, though.”

Stiles touches his chest where his tattoo is located. “Same.”

They enter the silent house, and Stiles assumes that the rest of the pack is elsewhere. It’s becoming more common for folks to spend time at home, or over at someone else’s house, especially when no one is cooking.

Stiles thinks it’s probably a normal, healthy sign of growth that they don’t need to be together at all times.

“How’s the house coming?” Stiles asks.

Derek shrugs. “Construction is on schedule. If you wanted, we could go over there after you’re done with school tomorrow. It’s a short day for me.”

“Yeah, I’d like to see it,” Stiles admits. “I have a coven meeting after school, but before I head over we could swing by.”

“Sounds good,” Derek replies. “I’m going to get cleaned up and head to bed.”

Stiles still has some homework that he wants to finish, so he heads up to his bedroom and starts on his math problems. He’s still working when his dad gets home, poking his head into Stiles’ room. 

“Hey, kiddo,” Noah says. “How are you doing?”

“Me? I’m good,” Stiles insists. “Just, maybe a little worried.”

“I got a phone call from the D.A.,” Noah replies, easing his way inside the room. “We’re still waiting on a date for the sentencing hearing, but he thinks it will be soon. He also said you can give a statement if you’d like. Are you still okay with her pleading out?”

Stiles shrugs. “I mean, if she wants to plead guilty to the crime we can definitely prove she did, there really isn’t anything I can do, is there?”

“No, there isn’t,” Noah replies, sitting down on the edge of Stiles’ bed. Batman, who had been stretched out on the bed, wriggles over so he can rest his chin on Noah’s leg. “Truth be told, it’s out of both our hands.”

“I think that’s what’s bothering me,” Stiles finally admits. “Before, I knew I’d have to testify, but it was out of sight, out of mind. Now, it really is out of my hands, and I just have to let the system work.”

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help,” his dad says. “And be sure to reach out to Jack if you need an extra session.”

His dad scratches behind Batman’s ears in just the way he likes, and Stiles smiles. “I have another lesson with Moira tomorrow after school, but Derek and I are going to swing by the new house on the way.”

His dad looks amused, but thankfully doesn’t comment on Stiles’ ongoing crush. “Full moon the night after tomorrow.”

“Moira and I are going grocery shopping after my lesson to get supplies,” Stiles replies. 

Noah stands with one last pat to Batman’s head, and presses a kiss to the top of Stiles’ head. “Don’t stay up too late, okay?”

Stiles can feel the bond thrumming between them, love and warmth and everything else.

And that’s one of the reasons that Stiles isn’t too worried about the pack spending their time in other locations: he knows that they’re all just fine.

~~~~~

Derek has an early morning. He and Parrish meet up for a run before work, and then they’re at the station by 7. Mark is already there, and he gets them started on reading through the reports that came in over night.

The rhythms of the station are still slightly unfamiliar but welcome. Derek likes being busy. At this point, he’s looking forward to finishing up the third module so he can be a fully fledged deputy.

But the third module starts soon, and then he’ll have to juggle school, work, and life with the pack.

“All right, Derek, you’re with me today,” Mark announces once they get through the reports. “We’re on patrol. Parrish, you’re going to be with Maria.”

As though his words had summoned her, Maria comes through the front door of the station. “Sorry! Sorry!”

Mark frowns at her. “Maria, we talked about setting an example for the newbies.”

“I know, it’s just that Rosa absolutely refused to get dressed this morning,” Maria replies, sounding a little frantic. “Just threw herself on the floor and screamed her little head off.”

Mark laughs. “I don’t miss those days, that’s for sure.”

Derek follows Mark out of the station to his county vehicle, and he hesitantly asks, “Can I ask a question?”

“If it’s about why Maria gets away with being late every damn day, it’s because her kid is autistic,” Mark says, anticipating Derek’s question. “She’s a single parent who’s really struggling, and the sheriff has a soft spot. Also, when she is on the job, she’s great.”

Mark pauses. “But this is a fairly small department, and we were lucky to get you and Parrish, to be honest. If someone is good, we’ll probably make more allowances than most places would.”

“I don’t plan on going anywhere else,” Derek admits.

Mark looks over at him. “Look, kid, I’m talking about 20 years from now, but you could run for sheriff when Noah is ready to retire. The Hales were beloved in this town, and people will remember that.”

Derek blinks. “What?”

“I figure that’s part of Noah’s plan,” Mark says. “We haven’t talked about it, but the last three sheriffs have all basically appointed their successors, and it’s worked well so far.”

Derek hesitates. “It’s not political?”

“Maybe in some places it is, but we’ve set up a pretty good system,” Mark says. “People around here want a sheriff who’s more interested in keeping the peace than politics.”

Derek just shakes his head. “I guess I’ll think about it. It’s a really long way off.”

“It is,” Mark says. “But it’s a reminder from me to keep your nose and your record clean, because you have a future here.”

Derek takes in a deep breath. He’s heard that from Noah, of course, and even from the rest of the pack, but to have someone outside the pack tell him that…

“Thank you,” Derek finally manages to say.

“I was a punk-ass kid, too,” Mark says, with a smile to soften the words. “Between the Marines and being a cop, I figured my shit out. You’re going to do just fine.”

Derek enjoys the day spent with Mark, who has 20 years of experience in uniform as a deputy, plus another 8 years as an MP in the Marines. The sheer amount of knowledge that he has is astounding, and he passes along the information as easily as he breathes.

That day, things are fairly quiet. They catch a couple of kids tagging and confiscate the spray paint and take them home. There are a few traffic stops for speeding, following too closely, and failure to signal.

No one waves a gun around, and Mark supervises his ticket-writing to make sure he does it correctly, but then his shift ends at 3 pm. Derek heads to the house to get changed, and Stiles calls out as Derek is pulling on a red henley.

“Derek! You here?” Stiles calls.

“I’m coming down,” Derek calls back, grabbing his leather jacket from the back of his desk chair.

Stiles has dumped his pack near the dining room table, wearing his usual jeans, t-shirt, and flannel. “What time is your lesson with Moira?” Derek asks, wanting to make sure they have enough time.

“Not for another hour or so,” Stiles replies. “And I told Moira we were going to check out the new pack house. I think Erica and Cora were going to meet us if that’s cool.”

“Of course,” Derek says easily. “I feel like I don’t see Cora all that often.”

Stiles snorts. “That’s because you don’t. She spends most of her time at Erica’s house, but I think that’s because they really are BFFs, and there’s more space. But also, the pack bonds are strong, and don’t need much reinforcement.”

“I can tell,” Derek admits. “It feels easier than it did when she first got here.”

Stiles buffs his nails against his shirt. “I make strong bonds, what can I say?”

Derek gives him a look. “You are rather good at it, even if it was by accident.”

“The last time wasn’t an accident!” Stiles protests, following him out of the house with Batman on his heels. “That was all me, Derek.”

Derek isn’t going to argue with him—not when Stiles is right—so he changes the subject. “What did Scott say about the meeting with his dad?”

Stiles secures Batman in the backseat and takes the passenger seat. “I don’t know. He said it was fine, but he wouldn’t say much more than that, and usually I would have been subjected to a lot of bitching.”

“And when Scott stops talking to you, you start worrying,” Derek says.

“The last time he stopped talking to me, the pack bond had eroded,” Stiles says morosely.

“And what is the bond telling you now?” Derek asks.

Stiles frowns. “It’s still strong. He’s feeling conflicted.”

“So, pay attention to that,” Derek urges. “Scott will talk to you when he’s ready

Stiles glances over at him. “When did you get so smart?”

“About the time I got the space to actually use my head,” Derek admits. “Your dad gave me that.”

Stiles is quiet for a long moment. “Why the hell didn’t I tell him sooner?”

“You had your reasons,” Derek replies. “Hell, I wouldn’t have told him either. I’m still shocked at how cool he was about everything.”

“That’s my dad,” Stiles jokes. “Cool as a cucumber.”

Derek turns into the long drive up to the new pack house, and he sees that Erica is already there. She’s driving the used Honda SUV her parents got for her after she’d been seizure free for six months, and gotten her driver’s license. 

She and Cora are sitting on the hood of her car, a shared blanket around their shoulders, sipping from to-go cups from the local coffee shop. 

“Hey, Derek,” Cora says as he gets out of the Camaro. “How was work?”

“Thankfully uneventful,” Derek replies.

“Are you sure you spent the day in Beacon Hills?” Erica teases.

Derek rolls his eyes, and Erica adds, “How’s it going, Doctor Strange?”

“Just stopping by before my magic lesson,” Stiles says. He turns to look at the house, his hands on his hips, and he lets out a low whistle. “Damn. I had no idea things were this far along.”

Derek looks at the house. There are trucks parked out front, and the framing has been completed. As he watches, a construction worker walks out, grabs a couple of sheets of drywall, and carries them back inside.

He’s been getting regular updates, so he knows the plumbing and electrical work is done, and now they’re putting in drywall. Once that’s done, they’ll have to start doing things like choosing paint colors and carpet and the rest.

Derek figures it’s going to be a whole pack meeting, and he’s kind of looking forward to it.

“Yeah, it’s looking really good,” Derek says. “It will be great when it’s done.”

“How long?” Cora asks eagerly.

Derek pulls up the last email he got with the progress report on his phone. “Probably February. Could be sooner, could be later. I’ve been told delays in construction are normal.”

“I wonder if magic could make it go faster,” Stiles muses out loud. 

He’s leaning against the hood of Erica’s car near Cora, who pokes him in the side. “Haven’t you seen Fantasia? And what would Moira say?”

“I just said that I wondered!” Stiles protests.

“You do magic just by thinking it,” Cora reminds him. “So, stop wondering.”

Derek can’t help but laugh at that. Cora isn’t wrong, but her imperious tone and prodding finger is such a little sister thing to do.

Stiles rolls with it, though, moving away from her finger and laughing. “I’m not going to do anything. I have enough control at this point not to do accidental magic.”

Cora gives him a look. “Good.”

Erica just shrugs. “Hey, I wouldn’t mind if it got done faster with magic.”

Cora elbows her, and Erica elbows back, and then they both crack up.

And Derek just puts an arm around Stiles and pulls him in for a hug. Stiles leans against him, and Derek knows he’s looking into the future.

~~~~~

Noah knows that Derek had a short day, and he’s taking Stiles over to the new pack house before Stiles has his lesson with Moira. All that to say, he’s not really expecting to see any of the kids prior to the full moon, unless he runs into Stiles or Derek.

And then there’s a knock on his office door, and Cindy pokes her head inside. “Scott McCall is here to see you, sir.”

It’s been fairly quiet for a change, and Noah doesn’t have anything pressing on his desk. “Send him in, Cindy.”

Scott slouches into his office and plops into one of the chairs opposite him.

Noah stays silent, waiting for Scott to begin, but Scott seems to be stuck.

“Talk to me, son,” Noah invites, using that word deliberately, to remind Scott that he’s speaking to his Alpha.

“Dad wants me to forgive and forget,” Scott finally says. “He was talking about me spending Spring Break with him, and maybe the entire summer, too. I didn’t want to tell him no, but I don’t want to stay with him.”

“Your mom has full custody,” Noah reminds him. “And you’re almost an adult, so you have some choice in the matter.”

Scott shakes his head. “It’s more than that, though. I didn’t understand what Deaton was doing until Stiles repaired the pack bond, and then I could see he was a threat. I feel like my dad is that kind of threat now.”

Noah frowns. “Like he wants to undermine the bonds you currently have?”

“Like that,” Scott admits. “And like he might not take no for an answer.”

“Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it,” Noah says. “But your mom has more of a say than he does in the eyes of the law, and what does the pack do with threats?”

Scott’s expression lightens. “We take care of them, one way or another.”

“There you go,” Noah says. “What have you got going on tonight?”

Scott shrugs. “I called in sick to work. I was hoping to hang out with Stiles, but then I remembered he had a magic lesson, so I came here instead.”

“I don’t think Stiles had dinner plans,” Noah says. “Let me text him to see if he wants to meet us at the diner with whoever else might like to go. In the meantime, why don’t you stay here? Your dad won’t have any idea where you are, and you can just do your homework, or I’ll find some filing for you.”

Scott gives him a relieved smile. “I don’t mind helping out, but I do have some homework. It’s been hard to concentrate with my dad hanging around, and I don’t want to get behind again.”

“Focus on your homework then,” Noah replies. “If you finish, and there’s still time, you can help out and I’ll slip you some money.”

“I’d help you for free,” Scott admits.

“I know that,” Noah replies. “Let one of us know if you need help. Between everyone who’s here, we might be able to assist.”

Scott grins. “Or I’ll just wait to ask Stiles.”

“Or you can do that,” Noah replies, amused.

Scott spreads out on the couch, using the small table in front of it for his books and laptop. It’s not quite the same comfort Noah would have with Stiles hanging out in his office, but he can feel the bond thrumming with contentment between them.

Noah gets an answer about fifteen minutes after he send his text. curly fries ftw! 7?

Works for me, Noah sends back. “Diner at seven, Scott.”

Scott grins. “Yeah, okay, that sounds good.”

Noah sends out a general Meet us at the diner at seven if you can make it. If not, pre-full moon slumber party at my house for anyone who wants to stop by after.

When Scott sees the text on his phone, he grins. “That sounds really good. I feel like we’ve been scattered.”

Noah realizes that what for some feels like a natural dispersion and growing apart, for Scott it had felt like abandonment, especially in the face of his dad showing up and acting like a stalker.

Noah makes a note to have mandatory pack gatherings at least twice a month, and not just on the full moon. The big meal before their time in the Preserve is great, and a good time to connect, but they need more than that.

Noah has started to figure out that part of why he and Stiles grew so far apart was that Noah hadn’t been intentional about spending time together. And while he could offer a litany of excuses, none of it really matters.

Noah is the Alpha, and he has a responsibility to the pack, and to each member of the pack individually.

The afternoon passes peacefully, with Scott doing his homework, and then helping with filing once he’s finished. At quarter of seven, Noah powers down his machine, and he drives Scott over to the diner. 

Derek, Parrish, and Tara are already there and Erica and Cora turn up about five minutes after Noah arrives. “Isaac should be here soon,” Erica says cheerfully. “Boyd is stuck at work, but he said he’ll sleep over tonight.”

Stiles turns up ten minutes later, apologizing, Batman by his side in his vest. “Sorry! I got a little bit caught up in the lesson, and we lost track of time.”

“No big deal, kiddo,” Noah replies, scooting over to give Stiles room to sit in the booth where he’s sitting across from Scott and Derek. “I’m glad you could make it.”

Stiles focuses on Scott. “You doing okay, bud?”

Scott shrugs. “My dad is being really pushy.”

“We’ve got your back,” Stiles says. “And if it gets too weird, we could probably go camping in the middle of nowhere where he can’t find you,” he adds.

That causes a smile to blossom on Scott’s face. “I thought you hated camping.”

“Sacrifices can be made,” Stiles replies. “Or you can just keep hiding out at our house.”

“I might,” Scott admits. “But I’ll play along for now.”

Tara, Erica, Cora and Parrish have taken over a nearby booth, and when Isaac arrives, he grabs a chair and sits at the end with them.

They’re finishing up when Dave and Paul enter in uniform, clearly on break, to order to-go cups of coffee and check in. 

“How’s it going, Stiles?” Dave asks, lingering next to their table.

“Five by five,” Stiles says. “At least for right now.”

“Where’s Moira?” Dave asks.

Stiles flushes a bit and shrugs. “She said she and Noelani were getting dinner together tonight, and she wasn’t in the mood for curly fries.”

Dave laughs, but not unkindly. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

They finish up their food, and head back to the house, minus Parrish, who says he needs to get home. Boyd arrives around nine, with a backpack and an overnight bag. The kids create a nest in the living room, and Noah notices that they’re keeping Scott in the center.

Erica, in particular, is cuddled up next to Scott, although it looks platonic. Stiles takes the other side, and they start a video game.

“Don’t stay up too late,” Noah says, although he has no intention of staying up to monitor them. 

Derek is stretched out on the couch behind them, and he waves to Noah as he heads upstairs.

Of course, he’s no sooner undressed and gotten into bed when his cell phone rings. “Ah, hell,” Noah mutters, but he knows better than to ignore it. “Stilinski.”

“Sorry to bother you, sir,” Paul says. “We have a bit of a situation at the hospital. We probably wouldn’t have bothered you, but Mel is involved.”

“What kind of incident?” Noah asks, rolling out of bed and pulling on his uniform pants with the phone tucked between his shoulder and ear. 

“One of the residents snapped and held a scalpel to Mel’s throat,” Paul replies, sounding grim. “She just has a small cut; another doctor was quick on their feet and injected him with a sedative from behind, but Mel is pretty shaken up.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Noah says, because it’s an easy answer.

He knows that he’s not going to be able to get out of the house without alerting the kids and Derek that he’s leaving, and he’s torn on whether to tell Scott anything.

The kids are all invested in their game, but Derek meets him in the hall. “Can I help?”

Noah shakes his head. “No, stay here and keep an eye on things. It feels like things are starting to ramp up, and I’d like there to be a responsible adult present.”

“And Batman doesn’t count?” Derek jokes. 

“He almost counts,” Noah replies. “But he can’t really split his focus.”

Derek smiles. “Fair enough. Do you want me to tell Scott anything?”

“Mel is fine,” Noah says. “That’s the only thing he needs to know right now.”

Derek nods. “I’ll be sure to emphasize that fact.”

Noah pats him on the shoulder. “Thanks, Derek.”

He’s surprised to be getting out of the house without getting intercepted by anyone else, but he does get a text as he’s pulling out of the driveway.

It’s Stiles, of course. be safe

That’s all he says, but Noah appreciates the sentiment. He drives to the hospital at a normal speed, knowing that Paul has the situation well in hand.

He parks and heads inside, and he’s not terribly pleased to see McCall hovering around Mel, looking as though he’d like to intervene, or otherwise make a pest of himself.

Dave is standing nearby, looking as though he wants nothing more than to forcibly eject McCall from the premises.

Mel has a small bandage on her neck, and she looks at Noah in relief. “I told Deputy Myers not to call you.”

“I’m glad he did,” Noah says soothingly. “Hey, why don’t I bring you to the station so you can give your formal statement and get it over with, and then I’ll drive you home? You can let me know tomorrow when you want to pick up your car, and I’ll give you a ride.”

Mel takes a deep, shuddery breath. “Okay. I hate to leave them short-handed, but I’m not sure I’ll be much good tonight.”

McCall takes a step forward. “I should go with you.”

Mel visibly recoils. “Rafe, I can’t deal with you right now. You showed up to my place of work.”

Noah is suddenly very sure that McCall has a police scanner and he’s using it. “Were you here at the time of the event?” Noah asks, more politely than he’d like.

McCall shakes his head after a moment’s hesitation.

“Then I’m going to suggest you find somewhere else to be and let us do our jobs,” Noah says firmly. “I’m sure you understand that, since we’re both in law enforcement.”

McCall nods tightly and stalks out.

“Thank you,” Mel says, pressing her fingers to her eyes. “Where’s Scott? He told me that he wasn’t going into work today.”

“He came to the station,” Noah assures her. “He did his homework, helped with some filing, and then we went to the diner for dinner. Right now, he’s at my house with the rest of the kids. Derek is there to provide adult supervision.”

Mel moves a little closer to him, and Noah puts an arm around her shoulders. “And if you want me to, I can call a deputy to sit outside your house to make sure you’re not disturbed.”

Mel takes another shaky breath. “I would honestly feel better if I could see Scott tonight.”

“Come back to my place,” Noah says quietly. “We’ll find a bed. You shouldn’t be alone tonight if you don’t want to.”

Mel nods, and Noah turns to Dave and Paul. “Where’s our perp?”

“Sleeping off the sedative cuffed to a hospital bed,” Dave says readily. “We’ll stay here to keep taking statements, and once he’s awake, we’ll book him.”

“All right, thank you both, and if I don’t see you back at the station, I’ll see you tomorrow night,” Noah says.

Dave and Paul prefer to work the same shift, and they’re used to working nights. At this point, they handle full moons easily mostly because they’re used to being awake, and because they’re both steady as a rock.

Noah drives Mel back to the station to get her statement, electing to do it from his office with a recorder. If they need a videotaped statement later, they can bring her in.

Noah grabs a spare bottle of water and hands it to her. “Are you okay with this being recorded?”

Mel nods. “I know it’s necessary.”

“If at any point you’re uncomfortable, or you need to take a break, just let me know,” Noah says. 

Mel nods.

Noah presses record, and says, “Sheriff Noah Stilinski here with Ms. Melissa McCall.” He recites the date and time, and then says, “In your own words, tell me what happened.”

Mel takes a deep breath. “We’ve been a little shorthanded, so the residents are all short on sleep. I think Ben had been at the hospital for close to 24 hours, although it’s been quiet enough today that he should have been able to get a nap.”

Noah nods encouragingly.

“I honestly don’t know what happened,” Mel says slowly. “We’d just had a car accident victim come in. Nothing too complicated, just a concussion and a broken arm, maybe a couple of fractured ribs.”

She takes another deep breath, then a swig of water. “We paged Ben as the resident on duty. He—he didn’t look like he was entirely with it, and I was worried about him. I asked if he was okay.”

Noah nods. “Go on.”

“He—I don’t know,” Mel says helplessly. “He lunged for the nearest surgical tray, grabbed a scalpel, and he had me in a headlock before I knew what was going on. He had it to my throat, and he was shouting something about being taken advantage of, and no one understanding his value.”

“Is that out of character?” Noah asks.

Mel shrugs. “Well, he’s certainly never held a scalpel to anyone’s throat before. It seemed to come out of nowhere.”

Noah remembers what their last victim had said, about how it came out of nowhere, and he had never threatened her before. “You said he looked out of it? Is it possible that he’d been drugged?”

“It would be the most reasonable explanation,” Mel agrees. “Nothing else makes sense.”

Noah nods. “And how did it end?”

Mel takes another breath. “One of the other residents had been responding to a psychiatric emergency. There was a syringe of Haldol prepped for that patient when she heard the commotion. She snuck up behind Ben and injected him. I got cut as he collapsed.”

Noah frowns at her.

“I just needed a bandaid, no stitches,” Mel says. “It could have been much worse.”

“I’m very glad of that,” Noah says quietly.

Mel eyes the recorder. “I want to talk to you about something, but I don’t want—“

Noah holds up a hand. “This interview is complete.” He rattles off the time, and then stops the recording. “All right. We’re off the record.”

“I should have done this sooner, but—I don’t want Scott to go to his dad if something happens to me, unless that’s what he really wants,” Mel says. “And I don’t know how to make sure that Scott ends up with you. Or if you’d even agree.”

“Of course, I’d take Scott if something were to happen,” Noah says immediately. “And I think we should probably talk to an attorney about that, and see what our options are. I’ll split the cost with you if you’d like.”

Mel’s face relaxes in relief. “Thank you. I know it’s a lot, and I hope that nothing like that happens, but—“

“It’s Beacon Hills,” Noah says. “And I feel the same way about Stiles.”

Mel reaches out and squeezes his hand. “Thank you, and yes, I’m happy to be on record as Stiles’ alternate guardian.”

It’s something Noah knew she’d do, but hadn’t asked of her. It would be a relief to have something formalized. Noah would be comfortable with Derek taking guardianship, so that’s his second option, but he doesn’t want to put either of them in an awkward position.

Noah knows that his kid has a crush on Derek, and that his interest isn’t entirely unrequited. He also knows that Derek isn’t going to do anything until Stiles is at least 18. If something happens to Noah, and Derek feels responsible for him, it’s going to be a lot longer than that.

And there’s no part of Noah that wants to deprive Stiles of whatever comfort he might need in that situation.

Noah is true to his word and drives Mel back to the house. He plans on letting her take his bed or Stiles’, depending on whether Stiles is sleeping with the rest of the pack.

They slip inside, and Mel goes to the entrance of the living room. The kids are in a pile, with Scott in the middle, in the place of most protection. Erica has an arm thrown across Scott’s chest, and Boyd is spooning behind her. Cora has her back to Boyd, pressed close.

On Scott’s other side, Isaac is curled around him, but Stiles is sitting up, cross legged, Batman’s head resting on his thigh. His kid opens his eyes, and they glow gold. “Hey, Pops, Mrs. McCall.”

Noah realizes that Derek is stretched out on the couch behind them, an arm over his eyes, sleeping deeply.

“Wards are working like a champ,” Stiles says as he approaches. “I changed my sheets earlier, so you can stay in my bed if you’d like.”

“Thank you, Stiles,” Mel replies. “How is Scott?”

“He’s surrounded by his pack,” Stiles replies. “So he’s fine for right now.”

“I don’t want to wake him up right now,” Mel says, “but…”

Stiles seems to understand exactly what she needs, and he gives her a tight hug. “We’re okay,” Stiles says. “And as time goes on, we’ll be even more okay.”

Mel hugs him back. “Thank you, Stiles.”

Noah doesn’t need much to be proud of his kid, but he’s proud as hell in that moment. Stiles has been through so much, but he’s come so far. Noah might be the Alpha, but Stiles is the heart of the pack.

“I’ll show you upstairs,” Noah says when the hug breaks off.

“How did we get so lucky in the kid department?” Mel muses as she trails Noah up the stairs.

Noah smiles. “No idea.”

But they really did luck out.

~~~~~

The morning of the full moon, Stiles wakes up early. He might not be a werewolf, but he can feel the itch through the pack bonds, and it makes him a little restless.

Stiles is the first one awake, and he gets the coffee pot started. It’s Thursday, so they have school. Stiles doesn’t have time to make breakfast for everyone, so he heads upstairs and hops in the shower.

He’d grabbed everything he needed the night before, knowing that Mrs. McCall would probably sleep a little later. Stiles pulls on clean clothing and heads back downstairs to see his dad in the kitchen.

“What do you want to do for breakfast, kiddo?” his dad asks.

Stiles shrugs. “We can hit a drive-through on the way to school, no big deal.”

“Full moon tonight,” Noah reminds him.

Stiles laughs. “Yeah, I know. Not only do I have an alert on my phone, I can feel it through the pack bonds. Moira says she has plans.”

“She usually does,” Noah replies. “Once we’re past the full moon, I want to meet the Yukimuras.”

Stiles shrugs. “Sounds good. The incident at the hospital…” He trails off. “It was like the one at the mall, wasn’t it?”

Noah nods. “Keep your head on a swivel, Stiles. There’s no telling who might wind up infected. It seems to be affecting people without any history of violence, but who may have some mild resentments.”

“Which is probably about everyone at the high school,” Stiles says. “I’ll be careful. We’ll watch each other’s backs.”

“See that you do,” Noah replies, pressing a kiss to the top of Stiles’ head.

The rest of the pack wakes shortly. Most folks who wanted a shower grabbed one the night before, and now they grab coffee or a Coke from the fridge.

They load up in the various vehicles and caravan to McDonalds, then to the school. Stiles knows why the entire school thinks they’re in a gang, but he still finds it incredibly amusing.

Scott clears his throat as they approach the school entrance. “My dad is parked in the lot.”

Stiles turns to look in that direction. “Your dad is shaping up to be a real problem, Scotty.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Scott says.

“Nothing for right now,” Stiles replies. “He’s just here, but he’s not making any threats, and he’s not being a nuisance.”

“You should talk to the office,” Isaac says. “Tell them you want to focus on school, and your dad is making that difficult.”

Scott takes a deep breath. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

Stiles can see that just the idea that Scott could take some small action that would put him more in control of the situation is making him feel better.

“I’ll go with you,” Cora offers. 

“Buddy system today, guys,” Stiles announces. “It’s not just Scott’s dad. We know that there’s something going around influencing random people. If you start feeling weird, or suddenly have an urge to hurt someone, tell your buddy.”

Everyone agrees, and Erica sticks with Stiles as he heads for his locker. “I have no internalized resentments, for the record,” Erica comments. “If I have resentment, they know about it.”

“It’s one of the things I like best about you,” Stiles replies. “What about Boyd?”

Erica shrugs. “We have a good time together, but neither of us is under the illusion that we’re soulmates.” She pauses. “Not like you and Derek.”

“Stop that,” Stiles says. “Even the mention makes Derek uncomfortable.”

Erica shrugs. “I’m just saying. But I’ll refrain from mentioning it again until after you’ve graduated from college, if you and Derek are both still dancing around it.”

There’s some part Stiles that can’t even imagine reaching adulthood, that can’t quite believe he’s alive right now. The idea that he even has a shot with Derek sometime in the distant future is not a scenario that he can entertain.

They hit Erica’s locker next, and then head for home room.

During lunch, Stiles keeps an eye out for Malia, as he’s been doing since they prevented the assault from getting worse.

“Who are you looking for?” Cora asks, midway through their lunch period.

“Malia Tate,” Stiles admits. “Just in case she wants somewhere to sit.”

Cora frowns. “Come to think of it, I haven’t seen her recently. I think she was here the day after the incident, but not since.”

Stiles frowns, wondering how he might find out where she is, just to make sure she’s okay, but it’s not as if they’re friends. For all Stiles knows, her dad decided to move them to a different town.

The day passes uneventfully other than that, and no one has any after school activities. Everyone makes sure they don’t have a shift or anything else the day of the full moon if at all possible.

Moira usually makes dinner for everyone to share, and tonight is no exception. Tonight, she has a slow-braised pork butt for pulled pork sandwiches, as well as warm potato salad and coleslaw. Dave, Tara, and Paul all turn up with sides of their own as well as the buns, condiments, and pickles. Parrish and Derek bring the drinks.

Stiles remembers how terrifying the full moon had been when Scott was newly bitten, but they’re the exact opposite now. Pack members are chill, the food is good, and it feels like an extended family.

It’s a little cold outside, so they all find places to sit and eat in the house—in the kitchen, the living room, and the dining room.

Stiles winds up in the living room with Moira and the younger pack members, with his dad and deputies in the dining room. Batman lies between Cocoa and Nibs halfway between the living room and kitchen, since Stiles declared him off-duty.

Moira is sitting behind Stiles on the couch, and she squeezes his shoulder. “How are you doing?”

Stiles thinks about his answer. “I don’t know. Weirdly, now that we know how the nogitsune is manifesting, I’m less on edge.”

It’s not that his pack is completely safe, but more that Stiles understands the shape of the threat better, and he always does better with more information. 

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, but still keep a sharp eye out,” Moira urges him. “A vengeance spirit is not easily deterred.”

Stiles thinks back to Malia’s absence at school. “Would you know how to track someone down?”

“That would depend entirely on who we’re talking about, and why you want to find them,” Moira replies.

“Remember the were-coyote, Malia?” Stiles asks

Moira hums. “Hard to forget.”

“She wasn’t at school today,” Stiles says.

Cora chimes in. “And I don’t think I’ve seen her since that asshole grabbed her ass, and she slugged him.”

Moira frowns. “Are you concerned about her?”

Stiles shrugs. “I don’t know. I just have an itch.”

“Listen to your instincts,” Moira says. “And yes, we can do a true seeing this weekend to at least get a general location. If she’s safe, though, we should probably leave it alone.”

Stiles agrees immediately. “Absolutely. I just want to be sure she’s safe somewhere. She hasn’t had a lot of support.”

Moira nods. “We’ll see what we can do.”

“I wonder how many of us are out there,” Scott says. “Supernatural beings that is. I mean, there was a were-coyote out in the Preserve for years. Surely, there have to be more.”

“And quite a bit more varied,” Moira agrees. “It’s hard to say without doing anything that would expose them to elements that might present a threat.”

Boyd frowns. He’s been fairly quiet, but that’s not unusual. “Does that mean that someone or something else could locate them?”

“It’s always a possibility,” Moira admits. “Although, hunters tend to use the standard methods, so if a supernatural being doesn’t tip their hand by attacking someone, or doing something else that would draw attention, they’re unlikely to be discovered. Hunters don’t use magic as a general rule.”

“Why is that?” Scott asks. “Do they not like it?”

“They’re not opposed to using any tool in their arsenal, but what was one of the first things I taught you, Stiles?” Moira asks.

Stiles frowns, thinking back to those early lessons, and then he remembers what rule she might be referring to. “Any harm you do comes back to you threefold,” Stiles says.

Moira nods. “Magic users among the hunters either burn out quickly, or they use their abilities only to seek out those who have hurt others and are dangerous.” She pauses. “That’s why it’s rare to have a magic user who is also a hunter.”

“Because they either stop being a hunter, or they lose their magic,” Isaac guesses.

“Correct,” Moira replies.

Stiles frowns. “I wonder if there’s a way to set up an early warning system, just in case.”

“There might be—once we set up a sanctuary,” Moira replies. “It’s going to require a node like the Nemeton, as well as the use of the ley lines. I have no doubt that we’ll be able to accomplish it, but it’s going to take time and effort.”

That doesn’t surprise Stiles, but he’s a little disappointed. He wonders if an early warning system wouldn’t help them with threats like the nogitsune.

Maybe it’s not possible today, but for the future? Stiles is willing to work on it.

The full moon just isn’t that big of a deal with his dad as the Alpha, and with the wards keeping things calm. They go to the Preserve, to their usual clearing. The ‘wolves perform the full transformation and go running among the trees, and that leaves Moira, Stiles, and Parrish in the clearing.

“Tell me more about yourself, Jordan,” Moira says. 

Parrish shrugs uncomfortably. “What’s to tell? I grew up in foster care, joined the Army as soon as I turned 18 and got my GED, then bartended while going to college.”

“Favorite food?” Stiles asks as he strokes Batman’s soft ears.

At this point, they’ve judged it safe for the dogs to come. Batman’s vest is off, but he’s crawled into Stiles lap. Cocoa is running with the ‘wolves, but Nibs is on his back next to Parrish, begging for belly rubs.

Parrish doesn’t seem to have any problem indulging him, and he says, “Honestly, I love a good cheeseburger. Or anything involving pasta.”

“Favorite soda?” Moira asks.

“I don’t really drink it,” Parrish replies. “I never developed the taste. One of my foster moms thought soda was the devil, and I keep hearing her voice in my head when I try to drink it.”

“Favorite movie?” Stiles counters.

Parrish hesitates. “Don’t judge me.”

Stiles puts his hand over his heart. “I would never.”

“The Karate Kid,” Parrish finally says. “I always wanted my own Mr. Miyagi.”

“Truth,” Stiles replies, holding out his hand for a fist bump.

Parrish smiles and obliges.

“Favorite comic book hero?” Stiles asks.

“DC or Marvel, because I have opinions,” Parrish admits.

Stiles grins. “I want to hear them.”

They spend an hour debating DC versus Marvel, and the best superheroes and supervillains, and they pass a pleasant few hours until the ‘wolves wear themselves out and are ready to sleep.

The next day is a Friday, and Stiles had planned ahead and made a slow cooker full of steel cut oats, and there are various add-ins, plus protein bars for anyone who doesn’t want oatmeal.

It turns out that everyone likes the kind of oatmeal that Stiles makes, flavored with Earl Grey teabags.

“Dude, what did you put in here?” Scott asks. “I don’t normally like oatmeal.”

“Earl Grey teabags,” Stiles says. “I read about it somewhere.”

He’s taken to looking up big batch recipes online to feed a crowd and save money, and this had been one that he’d found. Turns out, it’s a hit.

“I like this,” Isaac admits. “More than the usual kind of oatmeal.”

“Steel cut oats have a different texture when cooked,” Stiles says. “And some people say more health benefits, but I’m not sure about that, to be honest. I just like the texture better, especially when cooked in the Crockpot.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Boyd says. “But yeah, this is a lot better than my grandma’s oatmeal. Hers was mush.”

Stiles just smiles smugly as he keeps eating.

They caravan to the high school, and Lydia is waiting for them on the stairs. “Stiles, I need to talk to you, and it’s private.”

Stiles decides to give a little, and he nods at the others. “We’re good. I’ll see you all inside.”

“Buddy rule remains,” Scott says stubbornly.

“Scott can stay,” Lydia announces unexpectedly. “That’s fine.”

“I’ll see you guys inside,” Stiles says.

He and Scott move off to the side, and Lydia looks around to ensure they’re alone. “You know I’ve been working with the other banshee to learn how to use my powers.”

Stiles nods, trying not to let his impatience show.

“I screamed last night for someone in Eichen House,” Lydia says bluntly. “I don’t know who it was, just that it’s no one I know personally, but I also know Malia Tate is there. I have a bad feeling about it.”

“How do you know?” Stiles asks. 

Lydia tosses her hair over her shoulder. “I might have overheard Mr. Tate withdrawing her for the rest of the school year.”

“When was this?” Scott frowns with concern.

Stiles shares his concern. A were-coyote locked in a facility like Eichen House is going to struggle with the full moon, and with adapting just in general. He doesn’t think it’s the right place for someone like Malia. Knowing that there might be remnants of the nogitsune there makes it an even worse place for her to be.

“The day after the incident in the cafeteria,” Lydia replies.

Stiles frowns. “Okay, I’m going to text my dad. If someone died at Eichen House, the department should have been notified.”

Lydia appears relieved. “I don’t have perfect control, but I got a sense of Eichen House as being a place where there has been a lot of death, and there might be more in the future.”

“You’re not wrong about that,” Stiles mutters, pulling out his cell phone and sending a quick text to his dad.

He doesn’t have to wait long for a response. Thanks. I’ll look into it.

Stiles suspects that Eichen House hadn’t notified anyone of the death yet, and if his dad can figure out a way inside, he might get some answers.

“All right, Dad’s looking into it,” Stiles says. “We’d better get to class before we’re late.”

Lydia reaches out to grip Stiles’ forearm. “I know I haven’t always been kind, Stiles, but my teacher has impressed upon me the importance of making alliances, if not friendships.”

“Eat lunch with us again today,” Stiles invites. “It’s going to take time, but I think we can get there.”

Lydia nods. “I will.”

Stiles feels better for all that. Supernatural folks need to stick together.

He feels that in his bones.

Chapter Text

Derek turns up for his shift, and he does the usual morning paperwork, reviewing what came in the night before, especially since none of the pack members were on duty.

He’s getting through the last of the reports when Noah comes out of his office, where he’d retreated first thing.

“Mark, call the medical examiner and find out if they brought in a body overnight,” Noah orders. No one is out on patrol yet, since they’re still waiting for their assignments. “Derek, I need you to call the hospital, see if there were any suspicious injuries brought in.”

Derek immediately picks up the phone as Noah starts issuing additional orders. He gets the front desk of the hospital, and Derek takes real pleasure in being able to say, “This is Deputy Hale. I’m calling to ask if there were any suspicious injuries brought in overnight.”

The nurse on duty hums. “I’m going to need your badge number, Deputy Hale. I don’t think I know you.”

One of the lessons they’d been taught was to memorize their badge numbers, so Derek rattles it off without having to look.

“No, no one brought in with anything more serious than a sprained wrist,” the nurse replies after a moment. “And he said he fell off a ladder while changing a light bulb.”

“Thanks,” Derek replies. “I appreciate it.”

He hangs up the phone and shakes his head, even as Mark is having a low conversation with the ME. “Yeah? Okay, thanks.”

When Mark hangs up, he says, “There was a body brought in from Eichen House. They said death by suicide—a hanging to be precise.”

Noah frowns, and Derek is pretty sure that a normal person could probably see his rising temper from orbit. “They didn’t call the authorities?”

What he’s not asking is why they didn’t call the sheriff’s office, but it doesn’t need to be said, and he meets Parrish’s eyes across their desks.

Mark shakes his head. “Dr. Kelly seemed pretty pissed off, too, sir.”

“Derek, with me,” Noah orders. “We’re going to talk to Dr. Kelly, and then we’re going to Eichen House. Mark, you and Parrish remain on standby. I’ll radio you when we’re ready to head over. Having a kid die in state custody requires an investigation, and if they’ve been skirting the law, I’ll need back up.”

Now that Derek has been through a couple of modules, he understands the skill level that Noah brings to the job. He’s quick, decisive, and he keeps an open mind.

“Isn’t Eichen House a state-fun facility?” Derek asks.

Noah sighs as they head out to his Jeep. “It is, but oversight isn’t great. Honestly, I probably would have never found out about the death, except that Lydia Martin told Stiles that she sensed one, and Stiles texted me. I’m just glad he did that rather than trying to get himself admitted.”

Derek snorts, because Stiles probably would try something like that, although he’s a lot better than he had been.

Maybe because the actual adults in his life have proven trustworthy.

Dr. Kelly is waiting for them at the morgue, and he ushers them into the autopsy bay. “I’m sorry, Noah, I assumed they already called you.”

Noah shakes his head. “Not your fault. They should have, and that’s on them. What have you got?”

“Teenage male, sixteen years old, death by hanging,” Kelly replies succinctly. “He was in Eichen House because he was having suicidal ideation, so I probably wouldn’t have looked any deeper if Deputy Rossi hadn’t called. The fact that they didn’t call law enforcement is a red flag.”

“Agreed,” Noah replies. “What did you find that seemed anomalous?”

Kelly hesitates. “I’m not putting this in my report, at least not yet, since I don’t have solid proof. I’m just telling you.”

Noah nods.

“They didn’t bring the noose in with him,” Kelly begins. “I assumed that was because it was taken into evidence, but I’m guessing not.”

“If they did, they didn’t tell me,” Noah says.

Kelly points to the neck, which seems to be at an unnatural angle. “It was a clean break. There was no petechial hemorrhaging, meaning that he wasn’t strangled. I have never seen this in a suicide. Granted, he apparently jumped from a height, but there’s a reason that you had executioners back in the day. They knew how to tie a knot to ensure the person’s neck snapped, rather than slowly strangling them.”

He pauses. “Well, some. There are reports of drawing it out, but the fact remains.”

Noah stares at the body. The kid is about Stiles’ age, and aside from the bruising on his neck and his pallor, he could be just another high school student. 

Derek knows that he’s thinking about Stiles, about all of the younger pack members, any of whom could be the kid on the slab.

He suddenly thinks that he might be sick, but he swallows back the bile.

“There’s a waste basket in the corner, Deputy Hale,” Kelly says. “You’re looking a little green around the gills.”

Derek shakes his head. “I’m good. I shouldn’t—I’m fine.”

“No one is fine when they look at a kid on an autopsy table,” Noah says kindly. “And if they are fine, they’re in the wrong line of work.”

With that tacit permission, Derek does turn away, although he doesn’t lose his breakfast.

He stares, unseeing, at the wall, and suddenly remembers the voice he’d heard at the Nemeton when Jennifer had been controlling him. He’s grateful for the tattoo, because he’s been clear-minded since then.

There’s no way to clear Beacon Hills of everyone with a score to settle, which means that the nogitsune could strike again at any time, without warning.

And could the nogitsune be behind this suicide as well? It’s probably impossible to know, and the kid had been in Eichen House.

“All right,” Noah says. “That gives me grounds for a search warrant. It’s in our jurisdiction, and we should have been called to the scene. Derek, are you good?”

Derek nods. “Yes, sir.”

“Has anyone notified next of kin?” Noah asks.

Kelly winces. “Again, I’m not sure. I would have assumed as much, but if they didn’t call you, and didn’t preserve evidence, then there’s a possibility that they haven’t yet.”

Noah sighs. “Come on, Derek. Let’s get to the bottom of this.”

They don’t go straight to Eichen House, of course. Instead, they go back to the station and Noah walks Derek through drafting a search warrant based on an unreported suspicious death. 

Then they go to the courthouse, and they cool their heels until they find a judge who’s free to review the warrant and sign off on it. 

Judge Wilson meets with them in her chambers, and she says, “It’s good to see you again, Noah.”

“Always a pleasure, Judge Wilson,” Noah says pleasantly. “This is one of my newest deputies, Derek Hale.”

Wilson’s gaze sharpens. “Any relation to Talia Hale?”

“She was my mother,” Derek admits.

She hums. “I knew her, and had a great deal of respect for her. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks,” Derek replies. “It’s always nice to meet someone who knew my parents.”

“Well, based on what I knew of your parents, I expect great things from you, Deputy Hale,” Wilson replies. She turns her attention to the warrant, and starts to frown. “If this is true…”

“I know,” Noah replies. “But you know Dr. Kelly’s reputation. I have no reason to doubt him.”

“How did you find out about the death?” Wilson asks as she signs it. 

“There was an anonymous tip from a student at the high school,” Noah replies. “I had Derek call the hospital, and Deputy Rossi called the ME. Kelly assumed we’d already been contacted.”

Wilson shakes her head grimly. “Please get to the bottom of this, Noah. You and I both know that people have become intolerant of abuse in state-run facilities, especially when directed at children.”

“I’ll do my best,” Noah promises.

Noah checks his watch as they leave the courthouse. “It’s probably going to be a long afternoon. I’m going to make sure Mark and Parrish are free, because we’re going to need at least two more people. If you’ll to to the deli and grab us a couple of sandwiches, that would be great.”

“Yeah, of course,” Derek agrees.

Noah drops him off at the deli, which is just down the block from the station, and Derek orders a couple of turkey sandwiches on sourdough, knowing Noah’s preferences.

It takes a few minutes to walk back to the station, and Noah is on the phone, probably with Tara given the tenor of the conversation. “Great,” Noah says. “We’ll meet you there.”

Derek removes his sandwich, then hands Noah the white paper sack. “Thanks, Derek,” Noah replies. “We’ll eat on the way. Mark and Parrish are meeting us there, along with Tara.”

Noah manages the drive to Eichen House with ease, even as he takes bites of his sandwich, holding it in one hand, the other on the wheel. 

Derek wolfs down his own sandwich in quick bites, and he finishes it up as they pull up in front of Eichen House. Tara is already parked out front, and Mark and Parrish pull up moments later as Noah finishes his meal.

“All right, we have a warrant to search the premises,” Noah says. “There was an apparent suicide overnight, but the facility didn’t contact us or any other law enforcement that we know of. We need to find the rope or other implement used, if possible.”

“Has anyone contacted the parents or guardian?” Tara asks.

“We need to get that information, too,” Noah replies. “I’m not sure why they thought they could cover it up since the body went to the medical examiner.”

“Makes you wonder what else they’ve covered up,” Mark mutters.

“Exactly,” Noah replies. “We’re going to dig in.”

Search warrant in hand, Noah leads the way inside Eichen House. The orderly at the front desk immediately bristles. “You can’t be here!”

“I have a search warrant,” Noah counters. “So, call whoever you need to call, but we have every right to search.”

The orderly picks up the phone, flushing a dull red in anger, and maybe fear. “Derek with me,” Noah says. “Parrish, stick with Mark. Let’s get going.”

They start on the main level, while Mark and Parrish start in the basement, and Tara heads up the stairs. A doctor with a name tag that reads “A. Healy” tries to intercept them just outside his office. “What’s the meaning of this, Sheriff Stilinski?”

“You had a death overnight, and failed to report it to the authorities,” Noah says bluntly. “You should have called us.”

“It was a suicide,” Healy says dismissively. “The young man was very troubled, and while we take every precaution we can, we’re not always successful in preventing these poor young people from self-harming.”

Noah raises his eyebrows. “You had an unattended death in a state-run facility, and the medical examiner has questions about whether it was actually a suicide. I need the implement used.”

“It’s been disposed of,” Healy says defensively. 

Noah’s weathered face creases in disgust. “That was less than 12 hours ago. Where is it?”

“Our head orderly took care of the scene,” Healy replies. “You’ll have to ask him.”

“Great, get him here,” Noah counters. “Have the parents or guardians been notified?”

Healy also flushes a dull red. “We were going to do that later today.”

“Not in a huge hurry?” Noah asks sarcastically. “Never mind. Call the head orderly, and do it now.”

He follows Healy into his office as he picks up the phone, and Derek stays in the doorway. Healy pages Brunski to his office, and it takes about ten minutes before the man swaggers through the door, deliberately brushing against Derek as he does.

Derek feels the hair on the back of his neck go up. This guy is like the hunters who set out to make his life miserable just because he was a werewolf, not because he deserved it.

This guy is dangerous—not to Derek, not to the Sheriff or the pack, but definitely to anyone under his authority. 

“What can I do for you, Dr. Healy?” Brunski says, oozing with smarm.

Noah fixes him with a glare. “I need you to hand over the noose used for the suicide.”

Brunski scoffs. “What? I got rid of it.”

Noah nods. “Put your hands behind your back.”

“What? Why?” Brunski asks, sounding very surprised.

“You’re under arrest for obstruction of justice,” Noah says. “And probably a few other charges I’ll think of later.”

That breaks through Brunski’s confidence. “What? No! Dr. Healy, you said—“

“I didn’t say anything,” Healy says quickly, cutting him off. “I thought you’d contacted the authorities as required.”

“Derek, would you do the honors? We’ll sort this out at the station,” Noah says.

Derek smirks. “My pleasure.”

Brunski squawks as Derek pulls his right wrist behind his back and cuffs him even as he starts giving the Miranda warnings. “What are you doing?”

“I’m arresting you,” Derek says conversationally after he’s through his recital. “Because you failed to report an unattended death to local law enforcement, which is a violation of California law. And since you’re running a state facility, you should be aware of California law.”

He refrains from tacking on an “asshole,” because he’s a professional.

Ostensibly.

“Wait, wait,” Brunski protests. “I have the noose! And everything else.”

“Too late,” Noah says grimly. “Although your cooperation in finding it will be noted in your prosecution.”

“It’s in the basement,” Brunski says. “I didn’t have the chance to get rid of it yet.”

Derek hears his heart skip a beat, and he goes on high alert, because that sound like a serial killer who has been collecting trophies.

“Let’s go, asshole,” Noah says. “Derek, stay with Healy, and make sure you Mirandize him.”

“Yes, sir.”

Noah leaves with Brunski, and Healy says, “I care about all of my residents, whether they’re minors or adults. We’re one of the only residential facilities in the county, and if we close down, many people will be left without options.”

Derek just raises his eyebrows, then recites the warnings again before saying, “Maybe you should have thought of that before you tried to cover up a suicide.”

Healy gives him an indignant look. “These are troubled children!”

Derek just crosses his arms over his chest. He’s not about to stand there arguing with an idiot. “Sit down. If you want to make a statement, you’ll get a chance to do that at the station.”

Healy frowns. “I think I want to talk to a lawyer.”

“That’s maybe the first intelligent thing to come out of your mouth,” Derek mutters.

Derek has no problem holding his silence, even as Healy shifts uncomfortably. He thinks it’s probably half an hour before Noah returns with Brunski still in handcuffs, and an evidence bag with a noose.

“We’re taking them both in,” Noah says, sounding grim. “The others are going to keep searching. We need to draft an additional search warrant for Mr. Brunski’s residence, as well as medical records.”

Derek raises his eyebrows. “Are we transporting them together?”

“No, I called Maria,” Noah replies. “She should be here in about ten minutes, and she’ll book Healy.”

Derek wonders just what Noah had seen in the basement, because it sounds like there’s a lot more going on.

Maria does show up in about ten minutes, and she wears an uncharacteristically serious expression. “I’ve got him, Derek,” she says. “Did you read him the warnings?”

Derek nods. “He said he wanted to speak to his lawyer.”

“It will be a quiet ride back to the station, then,” Maria says. “What am I booking him for, Sheriff?”

“Obstruction of justice to start,” Noah replies. “We’ll see if we can make a case for accessory to murder after the fact.”

Healy squawks. “Wait a goddamn minute!”

Maria just grabs his arm and starts to haul him out, while Noah motions Derek to take control of Brunski. It’s already been a long day, and Derek doesn’t see it ending any time soon.

They transport Brunski to the jail, and the deputies working there take over.

Derek knew better than to ask Noah what he’d found in the basement in front of the prisoner, but once they’ve dropped him off, he asks, “What did you find?”

“Other then the noose, there were a few other items that looked like trophies,” Noah admits. “I left those in place, but I have enough to request a search warrant for Brunski’s home and Eichen House records.” He shakes his head. “I have to wonder how many other suspicious deaths have taken place there.”

“Would we have ever known if not for Lydia’s abilities?” Derek asks.

Noah shakes his head. “I’m going to say no. This is going to be a huge investigation, and we may need some outside resources.”

“Not the FBI, right?” Derek asks. “Because it’s a state-run facility?”

“That would depend on whether there were any civil rights abuses,” Noah replies. “Something like that could lead to federal charges.”

“And the noose?” Derek asks.

“Kelly was right, and I’ve seen enough suicides and attempted suicides by hanging to know that most kids don’t know how to tie a true hangman’s knot,” Noah says grimly. 

Derek has a feeling that this is going to be a thing, bigger even than the nogitsune and the Nemeton. The nogitsune is turning out to be no more than an annoyance so far, but the problems in Eichen House run very deep.

Noah is the one to draft the search warrants for Brunski’s residence, plus asking for authorization to go deeper into Eichen House’s records. There’s a need to move quickly, because it’s unlikely that Brunski will be held long, and they need to search his residence before he makes bail.

Noah calls Wilson on her personal number, since it’s coming up on six o’clock, and most magistrates and judges have gone home. She invites Noah to come to her house so she can sign off on the warrants.

Wilson is wearing a black apron that says, “May the Forks Be With You” when she greets them at the door.

“My son would love that apron,” Noah says with a smile.

“I’ve heard stories about your kid, Noah,” Wilson replies. “I think I’d like him quite a bit. Does he have any interest in the law?”

“I think he’s leaning towards law enforcement at the moment, but there’s still time,” Noah replies.

Wilson reads over the warrants with a frown. “Was this something other than a suicide?”

“I don’t know,” Noah admits. “But there were other items in the basement that looked a lot like trophies. At the very least, I think there have been some abuses there, and we owe it to those folks to get to the bottom of it.”

“As a community, we certainly owe them that much,” Wilson says. “I know you have reason to distrust the BI, but I think you need to call them in. This is going to stretch your resources very thin, even if you don’t find anything.”

Derek knows that a member of the California Bureau of Investigation had been involved with the Argents, and therefore with Stiles’ kidnapping, but also, asking for an outside agency to get involved exposes the pack.

Then again, with the whole station in the know, it will be easier to keep their secrets.

“I’m going to call a contact I have,” Noah replies. “If this is as big as I suspect, we’re going to need the help.”

Wilson nods. “Good luck, Noah. I mean that.”

“I appreciate that, Judge Wilson,” Noah replies. “Thanks for letting us stop by.”

“I know you won’t abuse the privilege,” Wilson replies. 

“Always a pleasure,” Noah says, shaking her hand. She shakes Derek’s hand as well, and they head back to the station. 

“What’s next?” Derek asks.

Noah blows out a breath. “Well, I’m going to call Sheriff Morrison, and see if she knows someone in the BI that she trusts. You are going home, because you’re already into overtime, and I’m going to need you fresh tomorrow.”

Derek wants to argue, but he knows better. Noah is both the sheriff and his Alpha, and if he tells Derek to go home, Derek is going home. “What can I tell Stiles? Because you know he’s going to ask.”

Noah snorts. “You can tell him that Lydia’s tip paid off, and we’re investigating the facility. And you can thank him for going through the proper channels.”

They enter the station, and Derek sees that Dave and Paul are at their usual desks, but there’s a teenage girl sitting in a chair near them, wearing nondescript sweatpants and a sweatshirt. 

Noah stops dead in his tracks, and Derek doesn’t blame him. The fact that Malia Tate is sitting in the sheriff’s station probably doesn’t mean anything good.

Malia looks up and meets Noah’s eyes, and Derek can tell there’s still something slightly feral in her. 

“Paul,” Noah says slowly. “What’s going on?”

“Malia approached Tara at Eichen House and said she wanted to make a statement,” Paul says evenly. “We’ve been trying to reach Mr. Tate, but he’s not responding.”

Malia snorts. “He won’t. He doesn’t give a shit about me, not now.”

Derek can feel his eyebrows go up, because he can smell her honesty. It’s not just what she believes; it’s the truth.

Noah scrubs his hands over his face. “All right. Derek, get your reports written and head home. Let Stiles know that we might need to accommodate one more. We’ll call it protective custody.”

Derek thinks that’s introducing an element of chaos to the pack when they’ve just started to become really stable. That said, it’s not like they can throw a half-feral were-coyote into the system and hope for the best.

It looks like they’re getting another pack member.

~~~~~

Noah is tired with a bone-deep weariness that only comes with cases involving children. And now he has a child whose father has gone completely MIA.

He definitely needs some help, but he’s not bringing a stranger into the mix who could be in the back pocket of a hunter. Noah knows they’re still out there, and the hunters could use the opportunity to undermine or even assault the pack.

Noah retreats to his office and shuts the door, needing fifteen minutes to just breathe. Once he’s done that, he calls Sheriff Morrison on her personal cell.

“Noah, to what do I owe the honor?” she asks cheerfully.

“I have a bit of a problem on my hands,” Noah admits. “We’re investigating a situation at Eichen House—a suspicious suicide they tried to cover up. It might turn federal, and my department doesn’t have the resources.”

“You need a trusted contact within the BI,” Morrison says knowingly. “Wasn’t one of the staties involved with the Argents?”

“And Stiles’ kidnapping,” Noah confirms. “Do you know anyone?”

“I sure do,” Morrison replies. “I went to the academy with her, and her investigative specialty is government corruption.”

Noah blows out a breath. “Okay, yeah, that works.”

“She also happens to be a were-coyote,” Morrison adds, sounding knowing. “So, she’s definitely not associated with any hunter family, and she understands packs.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Shel,” Noah says. “I have another were-coyote who’s basically been abandoned by her father. We’re trying to track him down now, but it looks like she might be staying with me for a bit until we figure it out.”

“Busy time for you,” Morrison comments. “I heard the news about Kate Argent.”

“Yeah, I’m still waiting on a date for the sentencing,” Noah replies. “Stiles hasn’t decided if he’s going to make a statement yet.”

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help,” Morrison says. “Even if it’s loaning out a couple of deputies to review data. Our county sends folks to Eichen House, too. It’s one of the few residential facilities for youth around.”

“So I’ve been told,” Noah replies. “Thanks.”

“You ready for that name and phone number?” she asks.

“Shoot.”

The BI agent’s name is Angelica Rodriguez, and Noah writes that down along with a phone number. “It’s her office number, but it’s a direct line,” Morrison says. “She’s pretty good about getting back to folks, too.”

“Much appreciated,” Noah says. “We really do need to get that beer sometime soon.”

Morrison laughs. “In our plentiful free time, sure, but maybe I’ll mosey along your way if you do need the support.”

Noah gets off the phone with her and immediately calls Special Agent Rodriguez. He’s expecting to leave a message, but a pleasant female voice answers. “Rodriguez.”

“Agent Rodriguez, this is Sheriff Noah Stilinski of the Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Office,” he says. “I got your name and number from Sheriff Morrison.”

She laughs. “Shelly, yeah. She texted me while she was on the phone with you. To be honest, you called a lot quicker than I anticipated.”

“I’m under a lot of pressure at the moment,” Noah admits. “I’m sure you’ve heard about my past with the BI.”

“Yeah, I’m glad you got that asshole off the force,” Rodriguez says. “But I can understand why you’d reach out to someone you trust first. So, tell me a little bit about this situation.”

Noah quickly outlines what he’s found and what he knows, and he can hear the scratch of a pencil on paper as she takes notes. 

When Noah reaches the end of the story, she hums. “Okay, I have a few contacts in the AG’s office. I’m going to reach out and let them know your report is coming. I have enough pull to get assigned to the case, and this is right up my alley.”

“So, I should go ahead and request support from the AG’s office?” Noah asks.

“That’s the proper channel,” Rodriguez says. “Once you file your request, I’ll make sure it lands on my desk. If we need to pull in the feds, we can do that, too.”

“Do you know Agent Abel Marsh?” Noah asks.

There’s a pause. “As a matter of fact, I do,” Rodriguez says. “And his unit would be my first choice in a town like Beacon Hills, especially since you’ve already had to deal with the Argents.”

Noah blows out a breath. “Then you understand.”

“Very well,” Rodriguez replies. “Watch your back, Sheriff. Enough high profile cases, and another hunter family might decide to investigate. Most of them are as territorial as—well, as law enforcement, but not all.”

“I hear you,” Noah replies. “And I appreciate the warning.”

“Take care,” Rodriguez says. “I’m sure we’ll talk soon.”

Noah hangs up the phone and focuses on his report. He knows they’ll need help sooner rather than later, and he has to get the ball rolling.

Experience has taught him how to write a report efficiently, but he also needs to be thorough. An hour later, he has something ready to send to the AG’s office first thing in the morning, and he’s ready to go home.

When he emerges from his office, Paul and Dave are still there with Malia Tate, who is devouring a burger.

Noah has almost forgotten about this situation, and he raises his eyebrows in their direction. Paul gives Dave a look, and Dave rises from his chair. “Can I get a few minutes before you head out, sir?”

“Come on back,” Noah invites.

Dave closes the door behind him and sits down across from Noah, rubbing his hands on his uniform pants.

“What’s going on, Dave?” Noah asks in the face of his silence.

“Tara called us to come in early when Malia approached her,” Dave says. “She said she wanted to make a statement about Brunski. Malia saw him taken into custody.”

Noah nods. “What is she doing here?”

“She’s a fucking were-coyote, sir,” Dave blurts out. “She should be free to run, and she was going fucking crazy in there. Sorry for my language.”

Noah had seen the place, and he can’t imagine any of the kids in the pack being there. “You’re excused,” Noah replies. “But again, what is she doing here?”

“She was a voluntary admission,” Dave says. “She wasn’t there as part of a court order, and Paul thought she could be in danger from other staff members if she spoke out against Brunski, since we don’t know who else was involved.”

Noah can’t say that he wouldn’t have made the same call had he been there. “Okay, I understand that part. What’s the deal with her father? He seemed plenty concerned when we found her.”

“That was before he found out that she was partially responsible for her mom and sister’s deaths,” Dave says grimly. “According to Malia, he dropped her off at Eichen House, and she hasn’t heard from him since. He hasn’t responded to our calls.”

“Did someone swing past his place?” Noah asks.

Dave nods. “Yes, sir. Cindy went by, and she said the place looked deserted. Locked up tight, no lights, no vehicles.”

“What the hell,” Noah mutters.

“I know Paul says that were-coyotes don’t need a pack, but—sir, she needs a pack,” Dave says. 

Noah digs the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Fuck me. Okay. Honestly, I’d probably try to send her home with the two of you or Tara, but she responded to me being the Alpha, and I’ll make room.”

Dave hesitates. “Maybe you should have Stiles do what he did for Cora and Scott. Paul doesn’t need it. He feels the pack bonds, if not for himself, then through me. But maybe she needs the stability.”

“I’ll broach the subject with Stiles and Moira,” Noah says. “I’m not sure how he’ll respond to the request, especially with someone we don’t know all that well.”

Dave shrugs. “We’re happy to host someone if your place gets too full, and Tara is, too. From what Derek has said, it’s just a few months before the new house is complete. We can limp along until then, sir. We’re a pack, and we take care of each other. I think Malia needs that certainty right now.”

Noah sighs. “I’ll brings her home with me tonight, and we’ll call it protective custody.”

He can’t hide in his office all night if he’s going to get Malia to a safe place, and it’s late. She’ll probably be happy to find a bed.

Noah follows Dave out of his office, and now that she’s eaten, Malia just seems tired and sad. She’s sitting in the chair next to Paul’s desk, her gray sweatshirt pulled down over her legs, a pair of canvas slides on her feet.

She’s not a small child, but in that moment, she reminds Noah of one, so he crouches down in front of her chair. “Malia, we don’t think it’s safe for you to go back to Eichen House right now, and maybe not ever. I’d like you to come stay at my house tonight, but only if you’re willing.”

Malia looks at him with dark eyes. “I want to stay with you. You’re the Alpha.”

“All right,” Noah agrees. “We’ll keep trying to reach your dad, but if he doesn’t respond, we may be forced to either get you emancipated, or press charges against him for abandonment.”

“I don’t want to press charges,” Malia says, and Noah can hear the distress in her voice. “It’s my fault.”

Noah shakes his head. “It’s not your fault that you transformed during the full moon. It was a terrible accident.”

Malia just looks away, and Noah figures he’ll keep telling her that until she believes it.

“Let’s get out of here,” Noah says. He glances at Dave and Paul. “Call me if something pops off.”

“Yes, sir,” Paul says. “Let me know if I can be of any assistance.”

Noah leads her out to his vehicle and drives home in silence. He doesn’t try to make small talk, and Malia seems disinclined to speak. Roscoe is parked in front of the house, as is Moira’s Prius, and Erica’s SUV.

They walk inside, Noah nudging Malia ahead of him. The kids, along with Derek and Moira, are in the living room. Erica is the first to say, “Welcome to the pack.”

Cora grins. “Another girl!”

The rest of the pack echo the welcome.

“The real question is whether you want to be a member of this pack,” Noah says softly. “You can take time to think about it if you want.”

Malia shakes her head decisively. “I don’t need time.”

Noah looks at Stiles, who appears pensive and a little uncertain. “Something wrong, son?”

Stiles shakes his head. “No, but I’ve never done it like this before.”

“What have I told you about things that we do by instinct?” Moira asks.

A faint smile forms on Stiles’ face. “That what we do by instinct can be brought under conscious control.”

Malia seems a little overwhelmed, and she asks, “What—um, what are we talking about here?”

“I can form a pack bond between you and my dad, and you and the rest of the pack,” Stiles says. “That way, you don’t have to wait to see if it forms on its own, and it might give you a little more stability. But it’s up to you.”

Malia shrugs. “If you think it will help, I guess that’s fine.”

“Deep breath, Stiles,” Moira advises. “You can do this.”

Scott has been pretty quiet until now, but he clears his throat. “Would it help to focus on the bond that I have?” he asks. “Since you renewed it recently.”

Stiles brightens at that. “Yeah, yeah, it might.” He stands from the couch, and Scott clambers off the floor. Stiles places his hand in the center of Scott’s chest, frowning. “Okay, I think I have it.”

Stiles then turns to Malia. “Do you want to be a member of this pack, Malia?”

Malia nods. “I do.”

Stiles looks at Noah. “Do you accept Malia as a member of our pack?”

“I do,” Noah agrees.

Stiles reaches out, but pauses before he makes contact, asking for permission with his eyes. Malia nods, and Stiles touches her sternum. “Then be a part of our pack.”

Noah feels the bond bloom bright and wild. He can feel her feral nature, and the deep well of grief underneath. Erica gets up and pulls Malia into a hug. Malia is stiff at first, then she relaxes into the embrace. Cora hugs Malia from behind, and that seems to trigger a big group hug.

Noah motions to Stiles, who extricates himself from the others and follows Noah into the kitchen. “Derek told me a little bit,” Stiles says. “I guess it’s a good thing that Lydia has been honing her powers.”

“I think it’s time to lay our cards on the table,” Noah says. “That means bringing in Lydia and the Yukimuras, although probably not together.”

Stiles nods. “Yeah, that makes sense. We need to figure out how to take care of the nogitsune soon. With everything going on at Eichen House, you’re going to have your hands full with the investigation.”

“Sometimes, I think you’re too smart for your own good,” Noah comments. “I have someone I trust coming in from BI. I got her name from Sheriff Morrison.”

“She’s the sheriff in Sweetwater, right?” Stiles asks.

Noah nods. “That’s right. We keep meaning to grab a beer together, but it’s never quite worked out.”

Stiles leans against the counter and drums his fingers on the cabinet. “And we have the sentencing coming up.”

“We might have a full plate,” Noah admits. “But we’ll get through it.”

Stiles laughs. “We’ve done okay so far, Pops.”

“Come here, kiddo,” Noah says. “I need a hug.”

Stiles doesn’t hesitate, hugging Noah tightly. “Malia and the rest of the kids at Eichen House are lucky to have you, Dad.”

“I appreciate you saying that,” Noah replies, holding on tightly.

There’s a family out there tonight who won’t be able to hug their child, and Noah is going to figure out why.

~~~~~

Stiles doesn’t think adding Malia to the pack is necessarily a bad idea, but it does introduce an element of chaos to an already volatile situation. He has a better sense of Malia now through the pack bond, and it’s immediately clear to him that she needs the pack badly, and needs the stability the bond can provide.

They do the same thing they’d done when Stiles had created the bond with Cora, and renewed Scott’s bond, and create a nest in the living room.

Stiles stays near the edge of the group, though. He’s feeling a little strange, as though they’ve dodged a bullet, and he doesn’t know how to explain it.

“Hey, you okay?” Scott asks in a low voice. He’s stuck close to Stiles, and he leans in close. “You seem off.”

Stiles shakes his head. “I don’t know, dude. I feel like we dodged a bullet, but something else is coming.”

“What would Moira say?” Scott asks.

Stiles grins ruefully. “Probably to trust my gut.” He pauses. “Anything from your dad?”

Scott frowns and shakes his head. “No, but he had to go back to work. He said he was going to be here next weekend, though, and he wanted to spend some time together.”

“So far, so good, right?” Stiles asks.

Scott shrugs. “Time will tell.”

“Guys, seriously, get a room if you want to talk,” Isaac says sleepily. “The rest of us want to go to sleep.”

Stiles glances at Scott, who glances significantly at the stairs.

They head up to Stiles’ room, Batman at their heels. He and Scott stretch out side-by-side. “How are you feeling about Malia?” Scott asks.

“That she needs a pack,” Stiles replies. “But that she’s a bit rough around the edges.”

“She’ll have us at school,” Scott points out. “Your dad will hire tutors for her if that’s what she needs. We’ll make sure everyone gives her room.”

“Where is she gonna stay?” Stiles asks.

Scott hums. “You could always bunk with Derek, and let her stay in your room.”

Stiles pushes Scott’s shoulder. “Come on, Scotty.”

“The crush is pretty epic,” Scott teases.

Stiles groans. “I would have preferred to keep that to myself.”

“No secrets in a pack, dude,” Scott replies.

“I think I’ve figured that out,” Stiles mutters.

Scott smiles. “Hey, man, you’re magic.”

Batman whuffs and crawls in between them, and Scott laughs. “Yeah, I’m definitely spending the night in my fur.”

And that’s how Stiles finds himself sandwiched between his service dog and a wolf. In spite of his worry, Stiles sleeps like a baby.

Thankfully, the next day is a Saturday, so they can sleep in. Stiles wakes up with just Batman in the bed, but he smells something really delicious. 

Stiles rolls out of bed and pulls on a hoodie so he can take Batman outside. “You’ve been super patient, buddy,” Stiles says. “Thank you.”

Batman whuffs in response. 

Stiles takes him out through the kitchen, and he’s a little surprised to see Moira there, speaking in low tones with Derek, cups of coffee in hand.

Stiles lets Batman out into the backyard, and then pops back inside. “What am I smelling?”

“That, my young spark, is a hash brown casserole,” Moira replies. “It didn’t take much to whip up, and we’ll have breakfast in about 30 minutes.”

“Have I ever told you that you’re awesome?” Stiles asks.

Moira smiles. “More than once, but keep it up, because flattery will get you everywhere.”

Stiles gives her a peck on the cheek. “You’re the best.”

“The pack has to eat, and it’s important to welcome Malia,” Moira says softly. “It’s especially necessary right now.”

Stiles nods. “I understand. She’s at a very delicate point.”

“She feels better this morning,” Derek offers. “I think sleeping surrounded by the pack last night helped, and we have the weekend to get her squared away.”

“Erica and Cora have enough clothing that will work to get her started, but we plan on taking her shopping this afternoon,” Moira adds. 

Stiles nods. “Sounds good. Has anyone seen my dad?”

“He already went to the station,” Derek says. “He said he’ll try to be back for dinner.”

Stiles snorts. “I’m sure he’ll try, but a case this size? Dad is going to be tied up for a while.”

Derek winces. “I did offer to help.”

Stiles quickly shakes his head. “Oh, no, Der. This is something that requires the Sheriff with a capital S. He’s going to have to coordinate with the BI, and any other agency that gets called in, including the feds. The investigation is going to take months, if not years.”

Derek raises his eyebrows. “How on earth do you know all of this?”

“Osmosis,” Stiles replies. “I mean, just look at the Argent case. That would have dragged on for at least a couple of years if Kate hadn’t agreed to plead guilty. We might get her on the murders before she’s released, but we’ll see.”

Also, Stiles might have gone on a few research binges about average length of a court case and an investigation. Maybe more than a few.

Moira chuckles and shakes her head, even as Batman starts to whine at the back door. Stiles lets him inside, and Batman noses at his hand, as though to remind him that he needs to be fed.

Stiles feeds Batman his usual mix of wet food and kibble, and Batman starts wolfing it down.

“You want to help me prep the fruit salad?” Moira asks.

Stiles nods. “Of course.” Hands washed, Stiles begins to cut up the citrus—oranges mostly, along with a grapefruit and some berries with a touch of honey and mint.

He likes the way Moira makes food that everyone can get on board with, but with a bit of a twist, subtly expanding their horizons.

Stiles is finishing up when his phone chimes with a text, and Stiles checks the screen. “It’s Lydia. She wants to know what we’re doing this morning and to talk about what happened at Eichen House.”

Derek is texting even as Stiles is speaking. “I’m checking with your dad. If he gives the okay—“ He stops and looks at Moira.

“There’s enough for her to join us,” Moira assures him.

Derek gets a reply right away, and he says, “Your dad says to invite her. He’s going to stop by for breakfast to meet her before his phone call with the AG.”

come here for breakfast Stiles texts back. we hv food

15 min is Lydia’s response.

Everyone in the living room is beginning to stir, and between the two of them, Erica and Cora have enough clothes to allow Malia to dress in something other than the gray sweats she’d been wearing at Eichen House. 

They’re up and around waiting for the casseroles to be done by the time the doorbell rings. Stiles has warned everyone that Lydia would be coming by, and they all have their preferred beverages—coffee, tea, or soda.

Stiles meets Lydia at the front door, knowing that he looks like a bit of a slob, since he hasn’t bothered to change out of his track pants, t-shirt, and hoodie. He’s wearing the wolf-paw slippers Scott gave him for Christmas last year, too.

But Lydia is far from her usual impeccable self in leggings, an oversized sweater, and tennis shoes, her hair on the top of her head in a messy bun.

Stiles blinks. “Hi.”

“It’s Saturday morning, Stiles, and I’ve been—I’ve been sensing things all night and couldn’t sleep,” Lydia says pertly. “I need coffee.” She pauses. “If you have it. Please.”

“Come on in,” Stiles replies, stepping aside. “There’s a breakfast casserole, fruit salad, and coffee.”

Lydia hesitates. “It all smells delicious.”

“I don’t know about banshees, but werewolves don’t really have to worry about calorie count, and if you were awake most of the night, so you could use the sustenance,” Stiles points out, leading her back to the kitchen. “You remember Moira.”

“I have to thank you for the teacher you recommended,” Lydia says very politely, aimed at Moira. “She’s been great, and I’ve been learning a lot about previously unknown parts of my heritage.”

Moira smiles. “I thought it might be a good match. I’m glad to know that it is.”

“And I think you know Derek,” Stiles adds.

“In passing,” Lydia admits. “I hear you’re in uniform now, Deputy Hale.”

Derek tilts his head. “I am.”

“Congratulations,” Lydia replies.

The rest of the pack had been upstairs when Lydia arrived, taking turns in the shower as needed, and getting into clean clothing. Stiles knows that everyone other than Cora and Malia have work that day, and Stiles figures he’ll help do whatever shopping Malia needs.

But when the girls enter the kitchen, they stop at the sight of Lydia.

Lydia is clutching her coffee mug, and she offers a tentative smile. “I’d like to be friends. I can help with whatever, if that’s something you want?”

Erica stares at her with narrowed eyes, while Cora and Malia look to her. It’s clear to Stiles that Erica has taken the lead role for the women of the pack, at least among the kids.

As such, it means that Erica will determine whether Lydia is allowed a foothold in the pack, at least where it counts.

“I can’t go shopping today, and I know Malia needs some different clothes,” Erica says, putting her arm around Malia’s shoulders.

Lydia smiles. “Well, I can help with that. We’ll figure out Malia’s personal style. It’s just a matter of trial and error.”

Lydia actually sounds sincere, and Stiles waits to see how Erica responds, because Erica has a solid bullshit meter.

“Good,” Erica finally says. “They have no sense of style.”

“Hey!” Cora protests. “I just prefer jeans and t-shirts.”

Lydia gives her a critical look. “Well, that’s fine, but you could refine it a bit.”

“I don’t have anything else today,” Cora admits. “It might be nice to have another set of eyes, although Moira’s probably more fashionable than all of us put together.”

All eyes turn to Moira, who’s wearing black skinny jeans, a purple tunic, and purple Chucks. She probably shouldn’t have been able to pull it off, but she always does.

“What do I know about what teenage girls wear these days?” Moira asks lightly. “I think that Lydia would be a welcome addition, and her mentor has spoken highly of her. I think the Sheriff should be here soon, and the casseroles are almost ready, so let’s get the plates out.”

To Stiles’ surprise, Lydia willingly helps put out plates and cutlery, and they’re just beginning to dish up when his dad comes in. “Hey, all,” Noah says. He pauses to give Erica and Cora quick hugs, claps Isaac and Boyd’s shoulders, touches Scott’s cheek, drops a kiss on the top of Stiles head, and pats Derek on the back.

When his dad gets to Lydia, he says. “It’s good to see you again, Ms. Martin.”

“Lydia, please, Sheriff,” she replies politely. 

“I’m Noah,” he counters. “I’m glad you could join us, but forgive me if I’m in and out. Derek, I’m going to need your help this afternoon collating data.”

Derek definitely brightens up at that. “I’m happy to help.”

“Great,” Noah replies. “Stiles, I hate to put this on you, but—“

“Meeting assistance is a go,” Stiles says, anticipating his dad’s request. “And I’ll just assume that you’ll work around it.”

Noah nods. “That’s probably for the best, yes. Thank you.”

“No problem,” Stiles says easily.

The hash brown casseroles come out of the oven, one spiked with bacon, the other with sausage, but both are creamy and cheesy with crisp, browned bits on the sides and top. With the fruit salad offering both sharp and fresh flavors with the citrus and mint, it’s basically a perfect meal.

Stiles notices that even Lydia goes back for seconds on the casserole, although her portions are petite.

“All right,” Noah says as they finish up the meal. “Stiles, please set up the meeting. Tomorrow would be my preference. Derek, you’re with me at the station this afternoon. What does everyone else have going on?”

Boyd shrugs. “I have a shift at the rink, 3 to 10. I’ll work on homework until then.”

“There’s a burial this afternoon, and then I have a shift, too,” Isaac says. 

“We’re taking Malia shopping,” Cora announces. “Lydia said she’d help.”

Noah nods. “Good.” He glances at Moira. “Let me know—“

Moira holds up a hand. “Let’s not keep score, Noah. We’re pack.”

Stiles hides a smile behind his hand. He’s pretty sure that only Moira could shut his dad down like that, with a sweet smile and a firm tone.

And really, the pack works well together. Stiles knows that Derek contributes out of the Hale pack trust, and he’s pretty sure that Mrs. McCall pitches in for food, since Scott eats at their place so often.

The one time Stiles had tried to broach the subject of money with his dad, he’d received a very firm, “You don’t need to worry about that. I have things covered.” 

Moira had basically said the same thing, and when he’d asked Derek, he got, “Stiles, this is my pack, and the Hale trust is at its disposal.”

So, Stiles has decided to let the adults handle it. 

He’s getting good at that.

~~~~~

Derek pulls Moira aside before he heads to the station with Noah. “If you need anything—“

Moira rolls her eyes. “Derek, I can take care of one shopping trip. I could take care of a hundred. My consulting fees are—quite high, and there are plenty of people willing to pay them. In a pack, we provide for each other.”

Derek can’t help but hug her at that. Moira’s words echo what his mom had said over and over. That it didn’t matter how a person contributed to the pack, only that each person did. 

“Go, be awesome,” Moira murmurs. “Let me take care of our newest pack member.”

Derek presses his forehead against hers. “Thank you. Our pack is richer with you in it.”

“Both literally and figuratively,” Moira jokes. She cups his cheek. “You are where you need to be. Trust in that, Derek.”

“I do,” Derek replies. “Thanks.”

He kind of wishes he could be a fly on the wall during the shopping trip. Malia presents a unique challenge.

“Keep an eye on Noah,” Moira says. “I have a feeling.”

Derek frowns. “Stiles had a feeling, too.”

“Then there’s probably something coming,” Moira says. “Nothing that the sight will reveal, though, which means something.”

“What does it mean?” Derek asks.

“That fate will not be easily thwarted,” Moira says.

Derek begins to have an understanding of why Stiles had confidently predicted that the investigation would take months, if not years, when he gets back to the station. There are already six bankers’ boxes worth of documents at the station, and all of the documents need to be reviewed and sorted. 

“Tara will get you started, Derek,” Noah says. “I need to call the DA’s office.”

Derek nods, and looks to Tara. “For some damn reason, Eichen House is still using paper files, and if they have them in electronic form, they haven’t produced them,” she says.

“What are we looking for?” Derek asks.

Tara takes a deep breath. “Anything that has to do with patient deaths or injuries. We’re concerned that patients have been abused, and that deaths have been covered up. We’ll put those into a spreadsheet to start collecting the data.”

It’s not glamorous work, but Derek had been prepared for that. His instructors had all emphasized the fact that it wasn’t all chasing bad guys or exciting shootouts. A lot of it was reviewing evidence and other documents and looking for minutiae.

Apparently, Tara has some programming skills, so she has a spreadsheet prepared that will translate into a SQL database that can be searched easily.

Tara emphasizes the importance of putting the data in correctly, but then allows him to get to it.

Derek starts going through patient files, noting name, date of birth, discharge date—if any—and any documented injuries while in custody.

There are a few other categories of information, and Derek does his best to move through the files quickly while capturing the right information.

He moves into a head space where he’s just focused on the work in front of him, and isn’t paying attention to anything else. At least until a paper sack drops onto the desk in front of him. “I know you’re focused, but take some time to eat.”

Derek looks up at Noah, surprised. “Did you talk to the DA?”

“Yeah, the sentencing hearing has been moved up to Monday,” Noah replies. “So, day after tomorrow.”

Derek hesitates, then asks, “What are we looking at?”

“Kate pleads guilty and sits in prison while the various agencies build their murder cases,” Noah says. “That’s the bottom line.”

Derek frowns. “You don’t think it has something to do with the hunting families, do you?”

“How do you mean?” Noah asks.

“The Argents are matriarchal,” Derek points out. “With Gerard dead, Kate would be the head of the family, but both she and Allison are in legal limbo until the case is settled.”

“So, Kate pleads guilty to leave Allison free to lead?” Noah asks.

“It’s a thought,” Derek admits.

“We’ll likely see the Argents at the sentencing,” Noah replies. “Maybe we’ll get some answers then.”

Derek goes back to work on the files as he eats his sandwich with one hand, and he finds it somewhat suspicious that a medical facility would still be working solely off paper files. From what he understands, it’s easier to track patients and their medications electronically.

He gets through one of the boxes before Noah sends him home for the day. “I can only afford so much overtime,” Noah says. “And the work will still be here on Monday.”

Derek decides that he could really stand to go for a run to work off some energy, and he wants to check on the progress for the new pack house. No one is home when he gets there, so he quickly changes into a pair of joggers, a t-shirt, and a hoodie.

For a human, the run out to the Preserve would have been a long one, but for a ‘wolf, it’s a pleasant afternoon jog.

There’s no one working today, but the walls are up, and the siding is nearly complete. The roof has been shingled, and the front door has been hung, although there’s no door knob.

Derek climbs up the stairs to the wrap-around porch slowly, then pushes the door open. The basic floors are in, but they haven’t started with the flooring yet, although Derek has made the selections. The drywall has all been hung and mudded, and the trim is almost finished.

As quickly as things are moving, Derek thinks they’ll be able to move in as planned, maybe even slightly before. He can almost see how it will look once the house is decorated.

“Is someone here?” a voice calls from the doorway. Derek turns to see the general contractor, Luis Garza, standing there. “Oh, Mr. Hale. Stopping by to see the progress?”

“Is that okay?” Derek asks.

“Of course,” Garza replies quickly. “I was just going to do a walk through. If you want me to give you the tour, I can.”

“That would be great,” Derek replies.

“Electric and plumbing are done in the basement and main floor,” Garza says, beginning to show Derek around. “We should have that and the trim work completely finished by the end of the week, and then painting will start.”

“How long do you think that will take?” Derek asks.

“A couple of weeks,” Garza replies. “I got your paint and flooring selections, and the counters and cupboards have been ordered and will be delivered on time. We’re on track for an on-time completion date.”

“I really appreciate all the hard work you’ve done,” Derek says sincerely. He’d been warned how difficult a new build could be, but he’s been happy with the progress, and the lack of headaches.

Granted, Derek had hired a designer to select a lot of the fixtures for the house just to ensure that everything moved smoothly, and orders were made on time, and that helped.

They go through the rest of the house, and Derek can see where everyone might stay. There are five dedicated bedrooms, but there’s also a large loft in place of an attic that could be used as a large dorm, maybe for the girls if they want to stay there. There are also multiple bathrooms, which will make things easier, and a large rec room in the basement.

Overall, the house will allow most of the underage pack members to live here if they choose, with room for more, and ample space for large pack gatherings.

“It’s looking great, Mr. Garza,” Derek says as they finish the tour.

“I told you, call me Luis,” he replies. “And this house is really gonna be something when it’s done.”

Derek smiles. “That’s the goal.”

He circles the house, and looks at where the back patio is going to be. There are plans for a large grill, built-in heat lamps, and an outdoor seating area.

Derek begins the run home, and he’s just broken a sweat when he approaches to see a nondescript sedan parked out front. He doesn’t recognize it, nor does he recognize the tall man in a suit standing next to the car.

“Can I help you?” Derek asks cautiously. 

“I’m looking for Scott McCall,” the man replies, and the tone is pleasant enough, but there’s something about him that puts Derek’s back up. He now recognizes the man as Scott’s dad, and he’d overheard Scott and Stiles talking. Rafe McCall hadn’t been scheduled to be here this weekend.

Derek hesitates. “He isn’t here. I think he might have had a shift today.”

He knows Mr. McCall isn’t supposed to be here. Derek also knows that McCall has been pushing Scott’s boundaries. 

“I might go check there then,” McCall says pleasantly. “Thanks.”

Derek knows that if Scott is at work, he’s not going to be pleased with the interruption. Thinking quickly, Derek checks the pack calendar, and sees that Scott’s shift is ending soon. 

He texts Scott a heads up and hopes Scott can get out of there without running into his dad. And that it doesn’t cause him any trouble.

Scott’s response is omg whyyyyyyy

Derek can’t do much for him, so he goes upstairs to take a shower and change into jeans and a henley. He checks to see who had indicated they’d be around, and sees that it’s going to be a smaller crowd.

The lacrosse players all had practice and then were going out for dinner. Erica and Cora are having dinner with Erica’s parents, and they’re dragging Malia along with them. Stiles has a judo class, but has indicated that he and Moira will be there.

Derek checks the fridge and sees the chicken thighs in the marinade, and the veggies that have already been cut up. The post-it note on the fridge reads: Sheet pan ftw, everything on a pan, 400F for 30 min. Dinner is at 6:30.

“Well, that makes it easy,” Derek says. He decides to take advantage of the quiet house to start studying for the next module, which will start after the winter break. 

Derek has plenty of time, but he also doesn’t know how crazy work is going to get, so he wants to get a leg up on the academics. He’s confident that he’ll be able to perform in the more practical elements, especially since he’ll have been working at the sheriff’s office for a few months.

Around six, Derek throws the chicken thighs, cubed sweet potatoes, and green beans on the large baking sheet, and shoves it into the oven.

“Piece of cake,” Derek says.

He’s actually enjoying the empty house, although he’s a little concerned when it’s coming up on 6:30 and no one is home.

But at 6:29, Stiles and Moira come through the front door. “Hey, Der, can I get five minutes to shower?”

“The meal can wait that long,” Derek assures him.

Stiles thunders up the stairs with Batman on his heels, and Moira peeks into the oven. “We can probably let that go another ten minutes,” she predicts. “Chicken thighs are more forgiving.”

“Quiet house tonight,” Derek comments. “Your doing?”

“I encouraged Erica to bring Malia along with them for their standing weekly dinner,” Moira admits. “She needs to learn how to interact with normal people, and Erica and Cora will have her back.”

Derek nods. “How did the shopping trip go?”

“We got enough clothing to hold her over for a bit, and she’s fine sharing with the girls and even Stiles,” Moira replies. “In fact, I think exchanging clothing will help, because she’ll have the scents of the pack on her.”

“So, don’t be surprised when she steals one of my shirts?” Derek asks, amused.

Moira shrugs. “Something like that.”

Derek laughs. “You know what, I won’t even be mad. How feral is she?”

“She’s as feral as any child who’s spent eight years in the woods without civilizing influences,” Moira replies. “But she also has the hormones of a sixteen-year-old.”

“So, we should be very afraid,” Derek mutters.

Moira gives him a look. “I think with the influence of you, Noah, and Stiles, she’ll get there, but it’s probably a good time to talk about boundaries, since she’s likely to push them.”

“What kind of boundaries?” Stiles asks as he comes down the stairs. Batman is out of his vest, and he takes a detour to let him out into the backyard.

“I think the food is ready to come out,” Moira comments.

Derek pulls the sheet pan out of the oven and does a quick temperature check on the chicken.

For once, they’re going to have leftovers, with just the three of them there for dinner. Unless, of course, Noah or the deputies show up.

Stiles’ phone chimes with an incoming text message, and he pulls his phone out of the pocket of his joggers. “Uh, oh. Scott is apparently hiding from his dad.”

Derek grimaces. “Yeah, I sent him a heads up. McCall was outside the house when I came back from my run.”

Moira frowns. “Was he supposed to be in town this weekend?”

Stiles shakes his head. “No, they arranged for next weekend.”

“Did you get any sense from him, Derek?” Moira asks.

Derek shakes his head. “I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I didn’t get a good feeling, that’s for sure.”

Moira looks at Stiles. “Is the meeting with the Yukimuras set for tomorrow?”

“Yes, it is,” Stiles replies. “They’re coming over around 2 pm.”

Moira nods. “All right. We’ll ask Mrs. Yukimura to check on Rafe McCall. So far, the nogitsune has only briefly infected people. The ‘wolves are likely safe enough, but Mr. McCall is susceptible.”

Stiles frowns. “So, we think Mr. McCall might be possessed?”

“At least temporarily,” Moira replies. “I think we have to be careful.”

“What should I tell Scott?” Stiles asks.

“Tell him to go about his business as usual,” Moira instructs. “His father is intruding and crossing clearly set boundaries. Scott should avoid him as much as possible.”

Stiles types rapidly to pass along the message and Derek hopes things don’t go to hell before they have a chance to put the lid on it.

Once they’re sitting down at the table with their meals, Moira picks up the abandoned thread of conversation. “What I meant by Malia pushing boundaries is that she’s likely to proposition one or more members of the pack.”

Derek feels a rising disgust. “I would never touch her.”

“I know you wouldn’t, Derek,” Moira says gently, then turns her gaze to Stiles.

Stiles grimaces. “Okay, I see what you’re saying, I do. She might be sixteen chronologically, but mentally she’s eight years younger.”

“Precisely,” Moira replies. “So, if she comes onto you?”

“I will be very disinterested in the nicest possible way,” Stiles promises. “Because when you put it like that…”

“It’s kinda gross,” Derek says.

“That would be the word,” Stiles agrees. “But I might not have put those pieces together in the heat of the moment, so I appreciate the warning.”

“I do remember what it was like to be sixteen and DTF at all times,” Moira says with a twinkle in her eyes.

Stiles groans and puts his head in his hands. “Moira!”

“What? I’m up on today’s lingo,” she teases. “But I’m glad you’re taking this seriously, Stiles.”

Stiles shakes his head. “I don’t want to take advantage of anyone, and that’s what I would have been doing.” Stiles looks sick at the thought.

“Hey, you didn’t do anything,” Derek says insistently. “Nothing has happened, and now you have a different perspective, and you’re going to do the right thing if it ever comes up.”

Stiles shakes his head. “No, I know, but I should have thought of that. I should have anticipated it.”

Derek can tell that Stiles is starting to spiral, and he supposes it makes sense. Stiles had been an involuntary witness to his tryst—if you could call it that—with Jennifer Blake.

Moira reaches over and cups Stiles’ cheek. “Mo chroi. Take a deep breath. This isn’t about Malia. This is about feeling like the other shoe is going to drop, and that you might be the one to drop it. I don’t want you to think that Malia doesn’t have agency, or that she can’t make her own choices.”

“But we’re pack,” Stiles says. “And that means we have to be careful with each other.”

“Exactly,” Moira says. “But don’t beat yourself up over something that hasn’t happened.” She pats his cheek. “So egotistical, thinking that Malia would proposition you.”

That makes Stiles laugh, and Derek is glad to see it. 

They have enough on their plates without getting upset over something that hasn’t happened.

Chapter Text

Noah files his request for assistance with the AG’s office Saturday morning, knowing that it will probably be Monday before he gets a response. He sends Derek home, but asks Parrish to come in on Sunday to keep going through the data.

He can’t afford a ton of overtime, but he can afford some.

Noah also gets word that Rafe McCall is in town again and making a nuisance of himself, and that the Yukimuras are willing to meet them Sunday afternoon.

There are a lot of irons in the fire, and Noah has to somehow keep track of all of them.

But that’s why he’s the Sheriff. He supposes that’s why he’s the Alpha, too.

He makes sure that everyone at the station is ticking along, with Parrish and Mark reviewing the files they collected from Eichen House.

Noah plans to roll up his own sleeves and start collating data, but after the meeting with the Yukimuras. “Head home at 5,” Noah says. “Whether I’m back or not. This is going to be a marathon, not a sprint.”

“You got it, Sheriff,” Mark promises. “My wife is making pasta for dinner tonight, so I might drag Parrish home with me.”

Parrish perks up at that. “I love pasta.”

“Good,” Mark says. “It’s good to make connections.”

Parrish is in good hands, and Noah heads home, pulling up just as a gray Honda Accord does. The couple that gets out of the car looks to be around Noah’s age, although he knows better, based on what Moira said. A young woman he’s seen before also climbs out of the car, and Noah blinks rapidly, thinking that maybe his eyes are playing tricks on him.

But no, the girl now has an aura that Noah can see, and there’s a golden shadow of a fox. It’s not just the scent of ozone marking her as something other than human.

The woman looks surprised when she sees Noah, and then her expression turns rueful and knowing. Noah inclines his head. “Mrs. Yukimura, I presume.”

“You would be correct,” she replies. “But please, call me Noshiko. This is my husband, Ken, and our daughter, Kira.”

Ken has a firm handshake. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Sheriff. Stiles speaks highly of you.”

“That’s nice to know, but call me Noah,” he replies. “Come on inside. Kira, Scott has had nothing but nice things to say about you.”

Kira smiles, dimples flashing. “He and Stiles have been very welcoming, sir. I’ve really appreciated that.”

“That’s good to know,” Noah replies. “Come on in.”

Noah has kept the meeting smaller than he could have—just Derek, Moira, Stiles, and Scott. Noah can’t even say why he made sure Scott would be there, other than the fact that he feels the need to keep Scott close.

He hadn’t invited Kira, but Noah assumes that her presence means they’ve decided to come clean.

Noshiko looks at Moira as they enter the living room. “You didn’t say you were with a pack.”

“I’m the interim emissary until Stiles has been trained, and is ready to take over,” Moira says equably. “And if you know anything about what has happened in Beacon Hills, then you know we have a reason to keep it quiet.”

“Mom?” Kira says. “What’s going on?”

Noshiko glances at her. “I need you to stay calm, Kira. I told you I would provide an explanation for the changes you’ve sensed.”

Kira just appears bewildered.

Noah flashes his eyes. “I’m a werewolf. I’m the Alpha werewolf of this pack, specifically, and Scott is a member of my pack.”

Kira shakes her head. “No, that’s not—is that what I am?”

“No, sweetheart,” Noshiko says. “You’re a kitsune, a fox spirit. I thought it would take longer for those traits to manifest, but I think being here has accelerated your development.”

Kira looks at her dad with slightly wild eyes. “Not me,” he says, sounding amused. “I just happened to fall in love with a kitsune.”

Kira holds out a hand, and electricity sparks from her fingertips. “When were you going to tell me?”

Noshiko grimaces. “When the time was right.”

Kira’s expression can only be called betrayed, and Noah can understand why. Apparently, there’s a lot going on within the family, and a lot of secrets coming to light. He’s had his own experience with that, and he believes that honesty is the best policy, but he’s not going to say as much.

Ken holds out a placating hand. “We’re sorry, Kira, but with the nogitsune active, we wanted to keep you out of things as much as possible. That’s no longer feasible, and… Well, you deserved to know the truth.”

Kira is clearly only slightly mollified with that explanation. 

“Hey, why don't we grab drinks for everyone,” Stiles suggests out of the blue. “Mr. and Mrs. Yukimura, would you like anything?”

His kid is awesome, defusing the tension with a smile and impeccable manners. 

“If you have any tea, I would take that,” Noshiko replies, and Ken echoes her. 

“Green okay?” Stiles asks. He gets confirmation, then herds Scott and Kira to the kitchen.

Noshiko shakes her head. “I do not envy you, Noah. At least I know what it’s like to be kitsune.”

Noah shrugs. “My wife was fairly magical, at least I thought so. Stiles takes after her mostly, and I had some good years with her.”

He glances at Moira, who quickly takes over. “We’ve had at least two incidents that we believe were caused by influence from the nogitsune, and another person we think might currently be influenced.”

Noshiko frowns. “I have a way to see whether the person is still themselves, but it’s costly. How certain are you?”

“My dad has been acting out of character,” Scott says bluntly as he comes back in the room. He’s carrying a tray with four steaming mugs, and Noah accepts the mug of coffee. Noah can only assume that Moira and Stiles had planned ahead. “Really out of character. Or maybe he’s changed that much since he left my mom, but he’s an FBI agent who’s risking getting arrested.”

Noshiko raises her eyebrows, but she nods slowly. “All right. I can break a tail to see if he’s still himself.”

“What does it mean to break a tail?” Stiles asks. He and Kira have brought three cans of Coke, and Stiles hands one to Scott as they take their seats at the table. He then hands Derek a bottle of water.

Derek smiles. “Thanks.”

Derek has been pretty quiet, but Noah can tell that he’s taking it all in, taking the measure of the Yukimuras, and making his own judgments.

Noshiko hesitates. “Every kitsune has a certain number of tails. The older we are, the more tails we collect. If I break one, I can call on the ohni, who will determine whether someone is still themselves.”

“What happens if you run out of tails?” Stiles asks.

Noshiko gives him a sharp look. “Do you always ask so many questions?”

“Always,” Moira says at the same time Noah does.

They all laugh, even Stiles, although he shrugs unrepentantly. “I won’t bug you if you tell me that it’s none of my business.”

Noshiko gives him a sharp look. “Time rules us all, Stiles, and that is all I will say.”

Stiles smiles. “Well, I had to ask.”

“My tails are in a safe place, but I can deploy the ohni tonight,” Noshiko finally says. 

Scott grimaces. “I don’t know where my dad is.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Noshiko replies. “The ohni will find him, and they’ll search for anyone else who might be particularly susceptible to the nogitsune’s influence. Not that it will be anyone in the pack or the station, I don’t think. The coven’s wards are too strong.”

Noah glances at Stiles, and sees that he just looks quietly pleased with himself, and Moira smiles proudly. “Stiles is already a force of nature, but with the proper training, that will be even truer.”

“I can see that,” Noshiko replies. “I should go.”

“Mom, can I stay?” Kira asks. “I brought my homework, and we’ll study.”

Noshiko hesitates, but Ken smiles. “Of course, Kira. I think you’ll be safer here than just about anywhere else.”

Noshiko finally nods, a little reluctantly. Noah suspects that she would prefer Kira to remain apart, separate from others who might inherit a special power. Noah gets the sense that they had come solely for the nogitsune, probably because Noshiko feels a sense of responsibility, but they hadn’t wanted anything to do with the Nemeton. 

At least, Noshiko hadn’t, but Noah can already see the signs of fascination on Kira’s face, and Ken seems the sort to indulge his daughter, and maybe even to push her to get out of her shell.

Noah can sympathize with both of them.

Noshiko isn’t quite ready to give in. “I think Sheriff Stilinski might have something to say about it. I taught you better than to invite yourself somewhere, Kira.”

Kira looks abashed by that, and Scott is clearly torn between staying out of it and defending her honor. 

Stiles defuses the situation by saying, “All of my friends have a standing invitation to spend as much time here as they like, unless Dad says otherwise, Mrs. Yukimura,” Stiles says. “And if they’re pack or they know about pack, that means they’re doubly welcome.”

Noshiko looks at Noah, seeking confirmation, and Noah smiles. “It’s been a pleasure, to be honest. I like having the kids around, and if they’re at my house, they’re not getting into trouble.”

Noshiko laughs at that. “All right, Noah, I will grant that. I assume they’ll be chaperoned?”

“Derek is off today, and I’m planning to do paperwork, but I can’t make promises that I won’t be called in.”

Noshiko gives Derek a dubious look, but finally sighs. “I suppose it’s fine.”

“We’re making tacos tonight,” Stiles announces. “Kira is welcome to stay for dinner.”

Noshiko shakes her head, but there’s a smile playing around her mouth. “I think you would have made a good fox, Stiles.”

“Instead, I’m just magic,” Stiles replies cheerfully. “And that’s enough for me.”

Noah thinks his kid is a little more than “just” anything, but he doesn’t say it. 

He shows Noshiko and Ken to the door, and says, “I’m sorry if Stiles overstepped, but he’s right. I really don’t mind having him and his friends around, and if Kira would like to be part of that crowd, I don’t mind.”

Noshiko looks a little discomfited. “Wolves and foxes do not mix well.”

Noah snorts. “I was bitten, not born, and I don’t particularly care about what a person is so much as what they do.”

Ken reaches out a hand, and Noah shakes it. “It’s refreshing to find a man with your open mind.”

Noshiko inclines her head. “Refreshing because it’s so rare.”

He can tell that she still has her doubts, but Noah knows that trust is built over time, and often hardship. “Please let me know what you find out about Scott’s dad. He’s become a concern.”

Noshiko’s expression softens. “I can tell that you view Scott as one of your own, and even though Deputy Hale didn’t say much, he was looking to you.”

“He’s my right hand,” Noah offers.

“Ah,” Noshiko says. “That explains it. My thanks for your welcome, and your candor, Noah.”

Noah inclines his head. “Of course.”

With Kira there, Noah isn’t going to talk about pack business, but Moira says, “Stiles and I are going to run over to the Mahealanis, and we’ll pick up what we need for dinner on our way back.”

“Derek, if you have a few moments, I’d like to talk to you about station business in my office,” Noah says.

“We’ll just be here working on homework,” Scott says, with a slightly shy look in Kira’s direction. 

Noah is just glad that Scott is interested in someone who isn’t a hunter.

Derek follows him up to his office and sits down across from his desk.

“Thoughts?” Noah prompts.

Derek shrugs. “Noshiko doesn’t trust werewolves. I’m pretty sure if it wouldn’t have been the height of rudeness, she’d have hustled Kira out of here. I’m also sure that if she’d known Stiles was part of a pack, they wouldn’t have brought Kira along at all.”

“That was my take as well,” Noah admits. “Do you foresee a problem with that?”

Derek smiles. “If we earn her trust, no, but I don’t think that will be easy to do.”

“I suppose if I’d been alive for more than 900 years, I might have a fairly dim view of humanity,” Noah jokes. 

“I didn’t need 900 years for that,” Derek replies.

Noah barks a laugh. “Yeah, same here.” His phone beeps with an incoming text, and Noah checks the message. “Looks like they need me at the station. Will you stick around here as the chaperone?”

Derek snorts. “I don’t know when I became the responsible adult.”

Noah pats him on the should on his way out the door. “Certainly about the time you put on the badge.”

Really, though, Noah feels as though he has a good team in his corner, and if he has to run a couple of foxes out of Beacon Hills, he’ll do that.

When he gets to the station, Parrish is nearly vibrating with excitement, but Mark just looks tired. From Noah’s experience, that means something along the lines of a serial killer—which for a new deputy is exciting, and for an experienced one means a hell of a lot of work.

“How bad?” Noah asks Mark, trusting his judgment.

Mark lets out a mirthless chuckle. “Serial killer. How many of those can we have at a time?”

Noah considers the question—Kate Argent, Deucalion, Brunski—and says, “Well, at least we’re not in the 1970s or 1980s.”

Mark nods philosophically. “Fair.”

“What was going on then?” Parrish asks, sounding bewildered. 

Mark actually facepalms, as Stiles might say, and Noah sighs. “The most prolific serial killers in history—that we know of—were all operating then.”

The light dawns on Parrish’s face. “Bundy, Gacy, Ridgeway, and the rest.”

“Exactly,” Noah replies. “But we’re not living in that time, and let’s all give thanks for that much. Tell me what you found.”

“Trophies,” Parrish says. “And we’ve managed to match them up to at least two other deaths.”

Noah pinches the bridge of his nose. “Son of a bitch. Are your reports done?”

Mark nods. “Preliminary ones, yes. We thought you might want to contact the feds.”

“The feds and any other help we can get,” Noah replies grimly. “We don’t have the manpower to investigate a residential facility, or a serial killer, and we certainly don’t have the capacity to investigate both at once.”

“Thank god for a sensible boss,” Mark says fervently. “I made sure the pieces were all there to get the feds to agree. Please get them to agree, because this is going to be massive, sir.”

Noah gives him a sharp look. “How sure are you, Mark?”

“Wait until you see what we gathered, Sheriff,” Mark replies. “The noose is tied to the most recent death, but there were two other pieces that we connected to other deaths, and there were at least five additional trophies, and probably more as we unearth them. If we unearth them.”

Noah sighs deeply. “Well, no rest for the wicked, and the righteous don’t need any, as my dad used to say. Of course, my dad was a son of a bitch, so what did he know?”

“He knew that the righteous don’t rest, because the wicked never do,” Mark replies, causing Parrish to smile. “But even sons of bitches know that.”

Noah decides to let him have the last word.

~~~~~

When his dad walks the Yukimuras out, Moira leans in close to Stiles. “We need to fill in the coven, and I think Scott and Kira might deserve some time alone.”

Stiles glances over, and sees Scott and Kira making eyes at each other. “Yeah, agreed. I’m rooting for those two.”

“Her mom may have something to say about that,” Moira comments. “She doesn’t have much faith in ‘wolves.”

Stiles shrugs. “She doesn’t have to have faith in the ‘wolves to have faith in the coven. You’re our secret ingredient.” 

“Let’s hope so,” Moira replies. “But we know how to work around foxes.”

Stiles gives her a look. “Well, you do. I’ve never dealt with a kitsune before.”

“You’re more like a fox than you think, young spark,” Moira replies. “But we can take a few precautions.”

“And that’s what the coven is for,” Stiles says.

“Pretty much,” Moira agrees. She speaks briefly with his dad while Stiles puts Batman’s vest on him and clips on his leash. He grabs his duffel bag with his judo gear, and he and Batman climb into Moira’s Prius for the trip across town.

Stiles doesn’t know if they’re expected or not, but he knows Moira well enough to know that she’d at least texted ahead. 

Noelani greets them at the door, and ushers them inside. “How did she take it?” Noelani asks, diving right into it.

“She wasn’t a fan,” Moira admits. “I suspect she’s had a bad experience with werewolves in the past.”

Noelani nods, as though the news is expected. “Probably with Satomi.”

Moira blinks. “Well, fuck me,” she says. “I can’t believe I didn’t put those two things together. She’s still in the area?”

Noelani nods. “I reached out to her. She’s friendly with the sheriff of that county, Shelly Morrison.”

“My dad knows Sheriff Morrison,” Stiles blurts out. “She mentioned another Alpha, but was kind of cagey about it, from what he said.”

“Well, things come full circle,” Moira murmurs. “Was she also in the camp?”

Noelani nods. “She was. She was bitten at some point, although she hasn’t been willing to talk about the circumstances.”

Stiles blinks. “Wait—does that mean… How long is my dad going to live?”

Moira glances at him. “Given his status as a born wolf who’s been bitten, and the strength of his pack? He could live decades longer than he might have. And as you may have already picked up, magic is a great preservative as well.”

The thought has crossed Stiles’ mind before, but now it really sinks in. The fact that there’s a local Alpha who had been an adult during World War II, and had survived an internment camp, and is still kicking and vital?

Well, there’s comfort to that. His dad could very well be around for a long time to come.

“Okay, so what does that mean for us?” Stiles asks. “Beyond the obvious benefit to me that my dad will be around for a long time.”

“Let’s sit,” Noelani suggests. “It’s just me here, but I think that might be for the best. Do you want anything to drink?”

Moira shakes her head. “No, I’m good. Stiles?”

“Maybe some water?” Stiles says. “For me and Batman.”

“You know where it is,” Noemi says with a wink in his direction.

Stiles does know where the glasses are, and he fills one with the filtered water from the fridge, as well as the spare water dish for Batman. Noelani and Moira are chatting quietly in the living room, and Stiles hears a snippet as he approaches.

Moira says, “No, dear heart. I’ve committed to staying here for the long run.”

“I have enjoyed spending more time with my daughter and my grandson,” Noelani admits. “And while I will have to go back to ensure everything is going well a couple of times per year—“

They break off the conversation when Stiles gets closer, and Stiles realizes that their relationship is closer, and deeper, than he thought.

Stiles keeps his mouth shut, though. It’s none of his business, and he just hopes they make each other happy.

“Let’s talk, Stiles,” Moira says. “This goes beyond just coven business.”

Stiles puts Batman’s dish on the ground and sits next to Moira. “Okay.”

“Eventually, you’ll be the emissary of your father’s pack, and then likely Derek’s, when it passes to him,” Moira says. “I expect you’ll go to college, and will probably work outside Beacon Hills for some years, perhaps a decade or more.”

Stiles feels a pang at that. “Yeah, but I don’t have to.”

“No, no, mo chroi,” Moira quickly says. “You mistake me. People like us—we travel. We make connections. We make friends, and sometimes we make enemies. When you graduate from high school, and you are ready to leave, Noelani and I will be here. We’ve both decided that this is where we need to be, to hold it in trust for you.”

Stiles blinks, trying to digest her words. “What does that have to do with Satomi or the Yukimuras?”

“Noelani knows Satomi well, because of her travels, and we can help build that bridge if necessary,” Moira says.

“And Moira has a strong reputation,” Noelani says. “Her presence here will only help your father.”

Stiles is beginning to understand. “And I’m going to travel and make connections so that when I’m ready to take over, I’ll have that strong reputation.”

“Exactly so,” Moira replies. “But first, we must discuss what it means to make peace between ‘wolves and foxes.”

Stiles frowns. “If we neutralize the nogitsune, wouldn’t that do it? I mean, from what she said, Mrs. Yukimura is responsible for calling it here. If we put an end to it, wouldn’t that help?”

“It might,” Noelani agrees. “But it might also send the message that we’ve done what she couldn’t.”

Stiles frowns. “Okay, I guess we want to be as gentle as we can be, but we’re talking about a vengeance spirit and a possible possession. I think the only reason it didn’t try to get to me is because I have the tattoo.”

“My wards are robust,” Moira comments. “But there’s a reason I agreed you should get it.”

“Could it possess a werewolf?” Stiles asks.

“It could certainly influence one, and Derek had very good reasons to remain free of influence,” Moira replies.

Stiles looks at Noelani. “Are you going to reach out to Satomi?”

“I will,” Noelani replies. “And frankly, there’s a reason that your father hasn’t met her yet. She’s friendly with Sheriff Morrison, but Satomi isn’t going to allow her to set up a meeting. She might agree if I make the overture, though.”

Stiles feels his eyes go unfocused, and he dimly hears Batman whine gently next to him. He suddenly feels as though he’s being pulled along the telluric currents, gagging when he runs through a spot of rot, washed away by the clean magic in other spots.

“Stiles? Stiles, what’s wrong?” Moira asks, but Stiles isn’t able to respond, and he hears Noelani say, “Leave him, honey. The earth has something to tell him.”

Stiles briefly sees Mr. Yukimura take a book off a shelf in his classroom and open it. There are hollowed out segments in the pages, and Mr. Yukimura removes a thin object that looks a bit like a knife. He hands it to Mrs. Yukimura, who breaks it.

Dark smoke coalesces into human figures wearing black masks, black clothing, and glowing yellow points for eyes behind the masks. They look like something out of a samurai film. The figures then dissipate, and Stiles is borne along the telluric currents again.

Rafe McCall is sitting in a nondescript sedan outside Mrs. McCall’s house, parked across the street and a couple houses down. The ohni begin to appear outside the car, surrounding it.

McCall’s eyes narrow, and he climbs out, moving slowly and deliberately. “Do you really think you’re going to get anywhere with me?”

Stiles is pretty sure that means that McCall is at least under the influence of the nogitsune, if he isn’t possessed.

The ohni advance on him, drawing closer, and McCall’s hand shoots out abruptly, disappearing into the chest of the ohni closest to him, and then withdraws. He opens his closed fist to reveal a dying firefly.

The ohni disappears, and McCall does the same thing to the other three menacing him, moving more quickly than Stiles would expect.

At the end of it, the ohni have been neutralized, which isn’t great, but it does confirm who’s possessed—or whatever you’d call it.

The vision releases him at that point, and Stiles comes back to himself. Batman is half in his lap, whining, as Stiles blinks to clear his vision.

“I think the Nemeton was helping me,” he finally says after a long moment. “It wants to be clear of the corruption. That’s why I’ve been feeling so off balance. It’s been trying to reach me.”

“What did you see?” Moira asks.

Stiles relates what he’d just witnessed, including the fact that McCall had taken out the ohni without breaking a sweat. 

“I think that tells us that the nogitsune has full control,” Moira says grimly.

“Can we exorcise it?” Stiles asks.

Noelani shakes her head. “It’s not like a demonic possession, Stiles. There’s no exorcism spell for something like this. It takes over the entire person.”

“You know, normally I would say that almost anything would be an improvement on the original Agent McCall, but maybe not,” Stiles mutters.

Moira snorts. “Well, no, possession is rarely an improvement on anything.”

Stiles scratches behind Batman’s ears. “Why can’t there be dog possessions? People getting possessed by the spirit of a Golden retriever wouldn’t be terrible.”

Noelani smiles. “If only. But that’s not where we are. We’ll have to find a way to get rid of the nogitsune. I hate to say it, but it will be easier to do now that we know it’s found a home.”

Stiles glances at the clock on the wall. “I have judo, and Sensei O.B. isn’t going to be happy if I’m late.”

“I’ll drive you,” Moira replies.

Noelani says, “Why don’t we all go together? We can make a plan at the coffee shop during Stiles’ class.”

“Wonderful,” Moira agrees.

Stiles is rather amused that Moira and Noelani are using his judo class to go on a date, but he can’t blame them.

Stiles walks into the dojo, and he feels the same sense of safety that he always does. Here, Stiles is just another student, learning how to use his body in a different way.

He has his next belt test soon, and Stiles has every intention of getting his green belt. He’s passed the tests for his yellow and orange belts the first time, and he wants to continue that streak.

Leigh greets Stiles as he enters. “Stiles, good to see you today. Did you want to go over the testing next week?”

“Yeah, that would be great,” Stiles says quickly. “But it’s not necessary.”

“I don’t mind helping my favorite student,” Leigh says with a wink. “That just makes me look good.”

Sensei O.B. calls the class to order. There are only about half a dozen students, and he says, “All of you are testing for your belts next week. I want all of you to pass, so I made sure there were enough teachers here to ensure that happens. Do not disappoint me.”

Leigh grins at him. “I told you. I called dibs on you, by the way.”

“I kind of love you,” Stiles admits.

“I kind of love you right back, kiddo,” Leah replies. “Have you thought about how Batman might help you in a fight?”

Stiles has given it some thought. “Yeah, a little bit. But he’s super innocent, so I don’t want to hurt him. I have worked on a certain order, though. Batman, protect!”

Batman bares his teeth and growls loudly. “Batman, friend, she’s cool.”

Batman sits and pants, opening his mouth in a wide, doggy grin. 

“Batman, make friends,” Stiles says.

Batman sidles up to Leigh and offers his paw to shake.

Leigh shakes his paw, looking absolutely delighted. “You are a great protector.”

“That’s what we’ve worked on,” Stiles says. “Batman is really responsive to me, so I think if there was a real threat, he’d respond even without me telling him, but we haven’t tested it.”

“Well, you have a really good boy here,” Leigh replies. “So, let’s get cracking.”

Stiles is sweaty and spent by the end of their session, but he’s confident that he’ll pass his belt test next week. “Thank you, Sensei Leigh.”

“You are, as always, an excellent student, Stiles,” she says. “But you seem tired. Is everything good at home?”

“We’re good,” Stiles insists. “I’ve just been busy, that’s all.”

Leigh smiles. “I’m glad that’s all it is.”

Stiles finds Moira and Noelani waiting for him outside the dojo, and they drop Noelani off at home before heading to the grocery store for dinner supplies.

“What are we going to do about Agent McCall?” Stiles asks as they start gathering supplies. “It seems like he’s targeting Scott and Mrs. McCall.”

“The nogitsune seeks chaos and strife,” Moira replies. “But it still has to work with the material it’s given.”

“So, because Agent McCall is focused on Mrs. McCall and Scott, so is the nogitsune?” Stiles asks.

Moira nods. “Precisely. There’s a lichen that’s long been used to kill foxes, coyotes, and wolves. It won’t kill a supernatural creature, but it will weaken it. Noelani will be over here in a little bit with the solution, and we’ll use Scott to bait the trap.”

“Oh, goody,” Stiles mutters, but he can see the wisdom of the plan. “And then?”

“Then we find a way to trap it or destroy it,” Moira replies. “The same way we found a way to stop Jennifer Blake.”

“You seem really calm about all of this,” Stiles feels compelled to point out.

Moira pats him on the shoulder. “Up until now, the nogitsune hasn’t been able to fully possess anyone, just influence them. Now, it’s in one person, and we know who. That was its mistake.”

Stiles begins to understand. Instead of being a vague threat, the nogitsune has become a very specific one.

Moira’s cell phone chimes with an incoming text. “Noelani can obtain the ingredients, so we’ll be able to proceed this evening. Check to see where Scott is, will you?”

Stiles texts Scott and quickly gets a response. took kira home her mom wants 2 talk 2 u & moira

“He took Kira home,” Stiles says, “and Mrs. Yukimura wants to talk to us.”

“Not surprising,” Moira comments. “Ask him to have her meet us at your house.”

Stiles passes word along, and they head back to the house. It’s empty, and Stiles finds the Post-It note on the fridge, indicating that Derek had gone out on a run when Scott and Kira left. Moira sends him upstairs to get cleaned up while she gets started on dinner.

He’s just heading back downstairs when the doorbell rings. Stiles frowns, feeling the wards around the house ping in a way that suggests a supernatural creature is present, one not recognized by the wards. “That must be Mrs. Yukimura.”

“As expected,” Moira admits. “She’ll have realized that her ohni were unsuccessful, and she probably wants to know what we’re going to do about it.”

Stiles goes to the front door, and sure enough, it’s Mrs. Yukimura, although she’s alone this time.

“Come on in,” Stiles says, stepping aside.

“You already know,” Mrs. Yukimura says flatly.

Stiles shrugs. “I saw it. I think the Nemeton wanted me to.”

He leads her back to the kitchen, and Moira looks over her shoulder where she’s stirring the taco meat on the stove. “I do appreciate you flushing it out.”

“Then you have a plan?” Mrs. Yukimura asks.

Moira nods. “Noelani and I have worked it out. We’ll bait a trap for it tonight.”

Mrs. Yukimura shakes her head. “Then what was all that about?”

“The Hale pack protects this territory,” Moira says quietly. “We should work together, because if we work separately, I believe that we will fail.”

Mrs. Yukimura sighs audibly. “I’m not used to trusting others.”

“You trust your husband,” Moira points out.

Mrs. Yukimura still appears unconvinced, but Stiles can see that she’s on the ropes. It’s not like she has much choice in the matter. Her ohni were ineffectual against the nogitsune, and she doesn’t have much of a plan past that.

“I hope you can do what you claim to be able to do,” Mrs. Yukimura finally says. “Because the only way I know of to get rid of the nogitsune would be to kill the host.”

Moira gives her a look. “And then it would simply find a new host and perpetuate the problem. If we don’t want to continue dealing with it, we need to trap it.”

“Granted,” Mrs. Yukimura eventually admits. “I’m sorry to have interrupted.”

“Come back later tonight,” Moira invites. “And we’ll see what we can do to bring this creature to an end.”

Mrs. Yukimura smiles. “I certainly hope so.”

The front door opens, and Scott calls out, “Hello?”

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

Scott comes through, looking a little hesitant. “What’s up?”

Mrs. Yukimura says, “I’ve taken up enough of your time, Moira. I’ll see you later.”

“Stiles, would you see her out?” Moira asks. “I need to talk to Scott for a moment.”

Stiles knows that means she wants a moment to break the news to Scott that his dad is possessed, and they’re using him as bait.

He escorts Mrs. Yukimura to the front door, and she pauses there. “I did some research, Stiles, and I think I know what triggered your magic.”

Stiles hesitates. “If you did your research, you probably do. The hunters have a lot to answer for.”

“Kitsune usually do not attract notice from the hunters,” Mrs. Yukimura says. “It makes me hesitant.”

“My dad knows how to use the law,” Stiles replies. “And sometimes, he knows how to get around the law.”

Mrs. Yukimura nods slowly. “I see. I’m sure being a werewolf has complicated matters for him.”

Stiles shrugs. “We’re making it work.”

“I see that,” she replies. “Thank you, Stiles.”

Stiles plants himself in the living room, waiting for the all-clear from Moira, playing a game on his phone.

Scot emerges from the kitchen a few minutes later and sits next to him on the couch. “I know I said my dad was maybe possessed, but dude.”

“At least you know that he hasn’t turned into a raging psychopath?” Stiles offers.

Scott snorts. “Well, I guess there’s that.”

“You okay with this? Being bait, I mean,” Stiles clarifies.

“If it saves my dad’s life, yeah,” Scott replies. “He’s an asshole, but I don’t want him possessed by a chaos demon, or dead.”

Stiles puts an arm around Scott’s shoulders. “I know you don’t, buddy.”

“Do you really think we can save him?” Scott asks.

Stiles leaves his arm where it is. “Yeah, I do.”

He believes the pack can do just about anything if they work together.

~~~~~

Derek walks through the front door to the scent of spiced meat, and the sight of Stiles and Scott huddled together on the couch.

“What happened?” he asks. 

He’d gone for a run once his services as a chaperone were no longer required, and he’s feeling centered again. As much as he loves his pack, and he loves being around them, he needs space and solitude, too.

But Derek isn’t expecting to return home to find Scott looking like his entire world had come to an end.

Stiles glances up at him. “We confirmed that Scott’s dad is possessed by the nogitsune. We’re setting a trap for him tonight.”

“Does Noah know?” Derek asks.

“Moira was going to call him,” Stiles replies.

Derek nods and goes back to the kitchen. “I heard your question, and Noah is on his way home now,” Moira says when he enters. She’s drinking a glass of wine, and appears tired. “Noelani will join us after dinner. Other than you, Scott, and Stiles, I’ll be asking the other pack members to find somewhere else to be.”

Derek grabs a bottle of water out of the fridge. “Do you think we’ll be able to resolve this tonight?”

“I don’t know, but if we can’t, I’m not sure what we’ll do,” Moira admits. “We cannot allow the nogitsune to run around now that it has possessed Agent McCall. The more chaos and strife it causes, the stronger it will become.”

“And it’s going to target Scott,” Derek says flatly.

Moira tips her head in acknowledgement. “And by extension, the pack, yes. I have a few tricks up my sleeve if we can’t banish the nogitsune, but I have no idea if they’ll work on this sort of spirit.”

“We’ve always managed it,” Derek says. “We’ll muddle through again.”

Moira smiles. “I appreciate your faith, Derek.”

“It’s never been misplaced before,” Derek replies.

Moira pats him on the arm, her expression fond. “Noah is lucky to have you as his right hand.”

Derek feels himself blush. “I should go get cleaned up.”

Moira chuckles as he flees. He takes a quick shower and changes into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, since they’re expecting company later.

Plus, if the nogitsune is going to show up, Derek wants to be ready for a fight.

When he goes downstairs, the other pack members have started arriving. It’s just the younger ones tonight: Erica, Boyd, Isaac, Cora, and now Malia, as well as Scott and Stiles. Derek is a little surprised to see Dave enter the house with Cocoa and Nibs in tow.

Batman greets the other dogs rapturously, and Dave says, “I’ll just put them out in the backyard, if that’s all right, Stiles.”

“Yeah, that’s great,” Stiles replies. “Thanks, Dave.”

“Did Moira contact you?” Derek asks, following Dave out to the back deck.

“I’m the left hand,” Dave reminds him. “Which means I should be here. Tara agreed to cover my shift, and the Sheriff should be here shortly.”

“How are things going?” Derek asks.

Dave shakes his head. “We’re going to have our work cut out for us, that’s for sure. It’s early days yet, but we think Brunski had a number of victims, at least half a dozen, but possibly more.”

Derek frowns. “How long is the investigation going to take?”

“Months?” Dave guesses. “Years? These sorts of investigations always take longer than you’d think, unless someone confesses and pleads guilty.”

Derek blows out a breath. “I guess it’s at least a good thing that Brunski is out of commission.”

“Certainly,” Dave replies. “Let’s get something to eat. Whatever Moira is making smells delicious.”

Derek sighs. “We’ll likely need our strength.”

The food has been set out in the kitchen, waiting for folks to fill their plates. There are hard and soft taco shells, shredded cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, salsa—basically anything anyone might want.

Erica is the one to broach the subject. “So, what’s the big deal for tonight?”

“We’re going to take care of the nogitsune,” Moira says firmly. “But that means it will be coming here, and I want the rest of you to be safe.”

“Could it influence us?” Isaac asks, as Noah enters the house and heads for the kitchen. “Should we have gotten the tattoo?”

“That would always be up to you,” Noah comments. “Bodily autonomy is important.”

Isaac looks at Derek expectantly.

“I got it for my own reasons,” Derek says. “And it wasn’t all to do with the nogitsune.”

Cora shrugs. “I wanted to support my brother, and I don’t really want anything messing with my head.”

“I thought I’d be a target,” Stiles says. “And if it got ahold of me and my magic, it would be a little too powerful.”

“I’m glad I’m not that special then,” Boyd mutters.

Stiles grins. “You’re very special, Boyd.”

Boyd rolls his eyes. “Don’t be a dick.”

“I was being completely sincere,” Stiles protests.

The thing is, Stiles sounds sincere, and not like he’s trolling, and Boyd smiles. “Thank you, Stiles.”

“Everyone in this pack is special in their own way,” Noah says, although there’s a twinkle in his eye. “Where is everyone spending the night tonight?”

“Boyd and I are going back to our place,” Isaac says. “And folks are welcome to join us.”

“I’d prefer if you all stuck together,” Noah admits.

Erica nods. “I already told my parents we were having a sleepover. It’s easy enough to stay with the boys.”

“Please stay out of trouble,” Noah says. “There’s too much going on to be rescuing anyone.”

Boyd’s expression is serious. “Straight to our place, and we’ll stay there all night unless you need us.”

“Their place is well warded,” Moira adds. “The whole building is, since Parrish lives there, too.”

Derek knows that both Isaac and Boyd are responsible, but if Boyd says they’ll go straight home and stay there all night, then they’re not stirring from the apartment until tomorrow morning. Boyd might not say much, but he’s emerged as a quiet leader among the younger pack members.

“Good,” Noah says. “I’m holding all of you to that.”

Erica nods, her expression resolute. “Got it. We’ll stay out of the way so you can take care of the bad guy.”

“It’s much appreciated,” Noah replies. 

“We should probably stop at the store along the way for snacks,” Isaac says. “We don’t have much in the apartment.”

Noah frowns. “Do you need anything?”

Boyd shakes his head. “No, we’ve got it covered. Thanks, though.”

Derek resolves to have a private word with Cora before they leave, and to slip her a twenty if necessary. 

Once most of the food has been consumed, and the rest has been put away and the kitchen cleaned up, the kids put on their coats and get ready to leave.

Derek pulls Cora aside and hands her some money. “In case you need it.”

Cora smiles. “We got it, bro. You take care of the evil fox spirit.”

Derek gives her a hug. “We will. I’ll text you when it’s over.”

“Look after Stiles and Scott,” Cora says. “Scott hasn’t said much, but I know he’s pretty freaked out.”

“I will,” Derek promises, knowing what it means that Cora is asking that of him. She’s developing deep bonds with the rest of the pack, and he’s glad to see it.

Cora gives him another quick hug, and then they all troop out. That leaves Derek with Noah, Moira, Dave, Scott, and Stiles.

“Noelani is on her way,” Moira says, looking up from her phone. “She has what we need. Scott, I spoke to your mom, and she’s staying with Detective Rossi tonight. We need to limit the number of targets that the nogitsune has. Noshiko is also on her way over. We’ll all get into place, and then you’ll text your father.”

Scott grimaces. “What am I supposed to say?”

“You’re going to tell him that you want nothing to do with him,” Moira replies. “And he’s going to come here to force the issue, which is when we’ll trap him.”

Scott frowns. “But you’re not going to hurt him, are you?”

“What we’ll give him might make him sick for a time, but it won’t kill him,” Moira assures him. “But we cannot allow this to continue. The nogitsune will grow stronger through chaos and strife. Two people have already been influenced to do things they wouldn’t normally do. If your father remains possessed, he may well jeopardize both his career and his freedom.”

Scott heaves a deep, audible sigh. “I understand, and I get it. I don’t want anything bad to happen to him.”

Moira nods. “At the end of this, Scott, you’ll have to decide how much you want your dad to know. I don’t think you can hide everything, though.”

Scott nods. “I understand. I want to talk to my mom before I make any decisions.”

Moira nods approvingly. “We’ll call her once we have the nogitsune contained.”

Stiles sticks close to Scott in the living room as they wait for Noelani to arrive. She turns up in about fifteen minutes  with a small pouch. 

“With us, Stiles,” Moira says. “We’re going to prepare the solution in the kitchen, and we’ll need your intent.”

Stiles pats Scott on the shoulder. “You’re going to be fine, and so will your dad. We’re going to make certain of it.”

Derek sits next to Scott, and he’s staring at his hands, the muscle in his jaw working overtime. Hesitantly, Derek puts a hand on Scott’s shoulder, uncertain how to offer comfort, but then Scott leans into his touch.

Derek leaves his hand where it is, and he’s glad they’ve come this far.

~~~~~

Noah had spoken to Mel himself before leaving the station, explaining the plan—luring Rafe in, using Scott as bait, and then neutralizing the spirit that has possessed him.

He doesn’t tell her that Moira has some doubt as to whether they’ll be successful, nor does he tell her that they have no idea what they’ll do with McCall if they can’t contain the nogitsune.

Then again, he’s expecting her to focus on the fact that they’re using Scott as bait, and he’s proven correct.

“You’re not using Scott as bait,” she orders.

“He’s fixated on Scott, and on you,” Noah counters. “And he’ll be with me, Derek, and the coven, Mel. We need to contain the threat as quickly as possible, and I need you to be safe.”

“Why not use me as bait?” Mel asks, sounding a little desperate. “Keep Scott out of it!”

“Scott is a werewolf,” Noah replies patiently. “He’s a lot more damage-proof than you are. I’m sorry, but I want you to stay with Detective Rossi this evening. One way or another, we’re going to get this wrapped up.”

There’s a long pause. “What do you mean, one way or another?”

Noah takes a deep breath. “The longer the nogitsune is allowed to rampage, the stronger it will get. I hate to say this, but we’re lucky that we know who it selected before it had the chance to do much damage.”

Mel makes a sound of frustration. “We’ve seen an uptick of assaults and other unexplainable accidents. Is that part of it?”

“We think so,” Noah confirms. “Although, we can’t say for certain. It could be a fluke.”

“I don’t think so,” Mel replies grimly. “All right, Noah, we’ll play this your way. God knows I don’t want Rafe to…”

She’s probably thinking about what it would be like if McCall managed to harm, or even kill their only son.

“I don’t want that either,” Noah says. “Look, stay with Mark tonight. No one will know you’re there, other than him and the pack. If Scott knows you’re safe, it will make this a lot easier.”

“I trust you,” Mel finally says. “Of course, I trust you, and I’ll stay with Deputy Rossi tonight. Please let me know when it’s done.”

Noah breathes out a sigh of relief, because he hadn’t been sure she would agree. “I will. I’ll call as soon as it’s over, or at least calmed down.”

“Look after my son,” Mel says. “I trust you, Noah.”

He knows what she’s not saying—she trusts him, but she’ll hold him responsible if something happens to Scott. It’s only fair, because Noah will hold himself responsible.

“You know I’ll look after him like he’s my own, because he is,” Noah says.

Mel lets out a slightly watery chuckle. “Thank you, and I’m only agreeing because I know the alternative means that Rafe comes after one or both of us in an uncontrolled environment.”

“I understand that,” Noah replies. “I’ll keep you updated.”

Noah puts his cell phone down and looks around the interior of his office without really seeing it.

Not for the first time, Noah feels as though he has way too much on his plate. If they can contain the nogitsune, and get through the sentencing, then Noah can focus on his pack and the investigation into Eichen House.

Of course, they’ll have to navigate a move to the new house, and whatever else gets thrown at them, but Noah is willing to ignore that for now.

The nogitsune tonight, then the sentencing. One thing at a time.

Noah breathes, and reminds himself that he’s been through worse. His son is at home, safe, and they have a plan.

They always do better if they have a plan.

He knows that he needs to get moving if he’s going to be there in time for dinner, and tacos are always very popular.

Noah stops by Tara’s desk on his way out. “Thanks for covering Dave’s shift.”

“Happy to help,” she assures him. “And if you need any of us, just call. We’ll make sure everything is covered.”

Noah smiles. “I have the best team.”

“Yeah, you do,” Tara replies. “And we won’t let you forget it.”

Noah normally takes his gun and belt off as soon as he gets home, but he leaves it on tonight. He’s never without a weapon, but the last thing he wants is to accidentally turn McCall.

Noah doesn’t want that asshole in his pack.

Dinner is usually raucous when the kids are all there, and tonight is no exception, even if Scott is fairly quiet. 

They send the rest of the kids to Boyd and Isaac’s apartment, and Moira and Noelani disappear into the kitchen with Stiles once Noelani shows up with the necessary ingredients for whatever potion they’re using to subdue McCall.

And Noah is no longer surprised about the weirdness that is his life.

He’s glad to see Derek reaching out to Scott, offering comfort, and Scott accepting it without protest. That tells Noah just how well the pack has gelled.

He and Dave sit at the dining room table, and Noah can hear the dogs whining at the back door.

“Should we let them in?” Dave asks.

“I'd rather not,” Noah admits. “I don’t want to risk them. If anything happened to those dogs, Stiles would never forgive himself.”

“It wouldn’t be his fault, but I take your point,” Dave replies. “Maybe we could put them in Stiles’ room? It smells like him, so they’ll probably settle down.”

Noah considers it. “Yeah, let’s try it. I suppose they could startle McCall by barking, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

Dave gets the dogs inside and herded upstairs to Stiles’ room, and Stiles, Moira, and Noelani emerge from the kitchen with a syringe and a large vial of yellow-green liquid.

“All right, Scotty,” Stiles says. “I think we’re good to go if you want to text your dad.”

Scott grimaces. “I think it would be going too far to say that I want to text him.”

Noah can see Derek squeezing his shoulder. 

“But I will,” Scott adds, pulling out his cell phone. “What am I saying again?”

“Be as bratty as possible,” Noah advises. “If you piss him off enough, he’s not going to even wonder if it’s a trap.”

That pulls a grin out of Scott. “I shouldn’t have any trouble with that.”

“You said it, I didn’t,” Noah teases.

Scott taps out a message, then holds his phone out for Noah to see before hitting send.

we r done. i hv a family & it doesn’t include u. i’m staying with the sheriff. DO NOT COME.

Noah chuckles. “Well, that’s certainly throwing down the gauntlet. I think it will work.”

Moira glances over his shoulder. “Hm, only slightly less bratty than a five-year-old announcing they’re running away from home because you hurt their feelings. I might add something slightly more insulting, like how he’s never done anything for you.”

Scott smirks. “I didn’t know being mean could be this fun.”

“He did kind of pick a fight with the entire pack,” Stiles points out. “And disrupt your life. And nearly get himself arrested while doing a little light stalking.”

“True,” Scott muses, and then types out something else, adding, all u do is make my life worse

“That ought to do it,” Noah agrees.

Moira claps her hands together. “Places everyone. Stiles, McCall will expect you and Noah to be here, but the rest of us, not so much. Scott, let him confront you, and keep him distracted so we can inject him.”

Scott nods, a determined tilt to his mouth. “Got it. Between me and Stiles, we can definitely keep him fixated on us.”

“And I will be right here making sure you don’t get yourselves killed,” Noah mutters.

Derek rises from the couch and pats first Scott, then Stiles, on the shoulder. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Noelani has been watching all of this with bright eyes, and she hands off the syringe to Moira. “I think you might have better aim, hon.”

“If you can provoke him to attack you, all the better,” Moira says cheerfully. “That will give Noah an opportunity to intervene, and then I can stab him with the syringe.”

Stiles’ eyes narrow. “You seem rather excited by the prospect.”

“I haven’t stabbed anyone in ages,” Moira replies with a wink.

Noah decides that he’s not going to ask about the last time Moira stabbed someone—if she’s being serious. He’s pretty sure she is.

Moira also retreats to the kitchen, and they don’t have to wait long for the banging on the front door to begin.

“He must have been in the neighborhood,” Scott mutters.

Stiles shrugs. “Not a bad guess if he couldn’t find you at your house.”

“Should I answer?” Scott asks.

“Scott!” McCall bellows from the porch. “I know you’re in there!”

“I’ll answer the door,” Noah says. “I need you boys to stay on the couch. Let him work himself up into a froth, okay?”

Stiles and Scott both nod, and Noah goes to the door, pulling it open abruptly. “If you keep up that racket, the neighbors are going to call the cops,” Noah says, stepping aside to allow him entrance, even though he doesn’t want to.

McCall storms into the house, still yelling for Scott.

“I’m right here, Dad,” Scott says, and Noah is glad to see that he’s following instructions and staying on the couch.

Noah has been in plenty of volatile situations in the past, but McCall seems unhinged. The veins in his neck and forehead bulge, his face is ruddy with temper, and Noah can see spittle coming out of his mouth as he talks. 

He remembers what Moira said about the nogitsune having to work with the material it had, and McCall had always had a temper. 

In some ways, it’s a blessing to have the nogitsune so focused on Scott, because Noah shudders to think of the damage it could have caused had it gone hidden longer, or had it not been so fixated.

“You need to come with me right now,” McCall orders. “Your mother has clearly turned you against me.”

Scott shakes his head stubbornly. “No. I want to stay with Mom and my friends. You were the one who left.”

McCall crosses the living room in two long strides and grabs Scott’s arm. “Stop being such a brat!” he yells.

Noah takes that as his cue to grab McCall. McCall is taller, but Noah has the element of surprise, using his speed to lock an arm around his neck.

“Moira!” he calls.

Moira is there, quick as a snake, and she stabs McCall’s neck with the syringe.

“What?” McCall manages to say before his eyes roll up into the back of his head, and he collapses.

Noah breaks his fall and lays him out on the floor. McCall is wearing a polo under his suit jacket, and Stiles tosses him a pillow from the couch, which Noah puts under his head.

Moira takes his pulse, and she says, “Vitals are strong and steady. He should be unconscious for a bit. We probably have three days to figure out how to get the nogitsune out of him before it exerts control again.”

Noelani kneels on the other side of McCall. “Can you sense it?”

“It has a hold on him, but not as strongly as it could,” Moira says grimly. “I think we might have reached him in time.”

“What would happen if you hadn’t?” Scott asks, sounding worried.

Moira gives him a reassuring look. “We would find a way, Scott.”

“Could I use the Nemeton?” Stiles asks. 

Moira frowns. “It did give you the vision.”

There’s another knock on the door, and Noah frowns. “Who could that be?”

“Probably Mrs. Yukimura,” Stiles replies. “She was back here again earlier, because she figured out her ohni didn’t work.”

Noah keeps his groan purely internal. “Just what we need, an audience,” he mutters.

Dave is standing near the door, his green eyes glittering, and Noah knows that he’s poised for a fight.

Noshiko and Ken are standing on the other side of the door, but at least they haven’t brought Kira. “Is it done?” she asks.

“He’s unconscious,” Noah confirms. “We’re deciding on next steps right now.”

He doesn’t really want to let them inside, but he steps aside anyway.

Noshiko sees McCall on the floor. “You managed to knock him out?”

“We used a solution with a particular kind of lichen,” Moira replies. “He’ll be out for a while, and the nogitsune should be quiescent for about three days.”

“I don’t think we can wait that long,” Stiles says. His eyes are glowing golden.

Moira frowns. “Stiles, we should be cautious about this. We have a little time.”

Stiles shakes his head vehemently. “We have to hit it while it’s at its weakest, Moira. That’s what the Nemeton’s message meant.”

“I thought he wasn’t a wolf,” Noshiko says, obviously confused. “Or a fox.”

Stiles glances up at her. He’s kneeling next to Moira on the floor, and he grins. “I told you: I’m magic.”

Moira sighs. “We’ll move this outside. Noelani—“

“I’ll call Alana and Danny,” Noelani promises. “We can at least form a circle for safety.”

“Dave,” Noah says.

“Derek and I will get him,” Dave says.

Scott hops to his feet. “I’ll get the heat lamps started outside.”

“Are you sure you can do this?” Noah asks his son. “Without hurting yourself?”

Stiles nods. “I’m sure. The Nemeton wanted to be rid of the taint, and it gave me the vision. We can’t wait for it to get more of a hold, or find a more suitable host. The more damage it causes, the harder it’s going to be to cleanse the ley lines, and the Nemeton.”

Noah swallows. He’s recognized that his kid is magic, and that sometimes means that he’s more involved than Noah would like, and doing things that Noah doesn’t entirely understand.

“All right,” Noah finally says. “Do what you have to do, Stiles, but be careful.”

“Careful as I can be,” Stiles promises.

~~~~~

Stiles doesn’t know how he knows that they have to strike now—plan or no plan—but he’s certain of it. The nogitsune is weak, but if they give it a chance to get stronger, it will be so much worse.

He knows that with the same certainty he’d known how to burn Jennifer Blake out of Derek.

But Stiles is a spark, and he’s beginning to understand when to let instinct take over.

Once his dad decides to go along with it, things start to move very quickly. Scott turns on the heat lamps around the deck, and Stiles uses the same tactic they’d had for divesting Derek of Jennifer’s influence.

There’s no indication that salt will work on a nogitsune, but Stiles believes that it will at least provide them some protection once he gets it out of Mr. McCall. 

He believes, and he’s a spark. Stiles will make it work.

The salt water lines dry fairly quickly, and Stiles is grateful that it’s at least not raining, which would have complicated matters considerably. Once he gives the signal, Dave and Derek carry out McCall’s still form and lay him in the center of the circle where Stiles points.

“What else can we do, Stiles?” Dave asks.

Stiles shakes his head. “Nothing for right now. We’ll wait to start until the rest of the coven arrives.”

Stiles sits on the edge of the circle, and Scott sits down next to him after he spreads a blanket over his dad. “Are you sure you can do this, Stiles?”

“I have to try,” Stiles finally says after a long moment. “My gut says I can do it, but it has to be now.”

Scott nods. “Okay.”

“That’s it?”

“If you say you have to try, and you think you can do it, then you can do it,” Scott says simply. “I’ve felt your magic, Stiles.”

Scott’s faith buoys him. “Thanks.”

Danny and Alana arrive in less than half an hour, and Danny pulls Stiles up and into a hug. “You guys okay?”

“We’re good,” Stiles says. “Just, you know, about to do the impossible again.”

“Oh, so it’s a day ending in Y,” Danny jokes, turning to Scott, pulling him into a hug as well. “What about you? You okay?”

“Maybe a little freaked out,” Scott admits. “I know my mom said Dad has a temper, but I don’t remember ever seeing him like that.”

Stiles knows exactly why Scott doesn’t remember seeing his dad in a temper, but he keeps his mouth shut. Rafe McCall was a drunk asshole back then, but right now, he’s possessed. He might not be nearly as much of an asshole once Stiles gets the nogitsune out of him.

“Stiles, you’ll be anchoring the circle,” Moira calls. “If you’re still certain.”

Stiles nods. “I’m sure.”

He takes his place at the northern point, with Danny across from him to the south. Today, Noelani takes the western point, and Alana the east.

“I’m going to hold the space, along with Noshiko,” Moira says. “Focus on the nogitsune.” 

Stiles nods. “Got it.”

He closes his eyes, feeling the call of the ley lines in the earth, a faint sound like a heartbeat echoing in his ears that he knows is the Nemeton.

Without the influence of the nogitsune, the Nemeton is starting to assert itself. Stiles might be worried about that, but the Nemeton is helping him right now, and that’s a worry for another day.

“Spirits of the north, I invoke you,” Stiles says. “Let earth hold and sustain us as we cleanse it.”

Noelani says, “Spirits of the west, I invoke you. Let the air buoy and sustain us as we cleanse the earth.”

Danny clears his throat. “Spirits of the south, I invoke you. Let fire help purify the earth.”

Finally, Alana says, “Spirits of the east, I invoke you. Let water quench the fire and regenerate our mother.”

Stiles takes a deep breath and focuses on the man in the circle, forgetting that it’s his best friend’s dad, and just thinking about him like he’s a victim of the supernatural.

And then the vision takes him, but this time Stiles knows what’s happening, and he just relaxes into it.

He finds himself sitting on the wide stump of what remains of the Nemeton, but he can feel the magic surging under him.

It wants to be free, but there’s a danger, and that danger is sitting in front of Stiles, looking just like him, and not Agent McCall.

“Wow, you really did want me, didn't you?” Stiles asks. “I have to say, I’m flattered. Also, very glad I got that tattoo.”

His double grins at him. “Your magic is seductive, Stiles. Even if it hadn’t been awakened, your magic still would have been seductive. I could have taken it and used it to power myself, my aims, everything. I would have sucked you dry.”

In another universe, Stiles thinks that the nogitsune would have used him, used his cleverness, used his magic, and any magic in Stiles would have been drained, if it wasn’t completely corrupted.

Losing it probably would have been the better fate.

“Well, lucky for me my magic was active, and I took steps to protect myself,” Stiles replies. “Also, lucky for me, I have Moira.”

“That bitch,” the nogitsune hisses, and from his own lips it’s a foreign word. Stiles would never use that word for a woman that he loves.

Really, the only woman who might have earned that moniker is Jennifer Blake, and she’s dead. 

“Keep a civil tongue in your head,” Stiles says mildly. “Because I’m about to destroy you.”

“Could you really destroy yourself?” the nogitsune asks.

“Sure I could,” Stiles replies. “If you’d taken control of me, I’d have asked Moira to slit my throat, and I would have let her do it.”

His own face blinks at him. “What?”

“I have a duty to my pack, and to this territory,” Stiles says, because his duty is becoming clear. “But you know that. You took control of my best friend’s dad for a reason, didn’t you? You wanted to get back here.”

The nogitsune shifts. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You spent years in the embrace of the Nemeton,” Stiles says. “You got ejected, and you want back in. You need chaos to survive, but you want peace, too. You’re fucked, my dude.”

“I don’t want peace,” the nogitsune says with his mouth, but that’s the thing, Stiles knows when he’s lying.

“Yeah, you do,” Stiles says. “I mean, you’d starve to death, but when you’re ready to do that, you can come back here.”

His own face blinks at him. “What?”

“Why don’t you go somewhere else?” Stiles suggests. “Why don’t you go bother some dictators or something? I can give you a list if that would help.”

The nogitsuna stares at him.

“Come on,” Stiles says. “You’re free to leave, right? You can go anywhere. Anywhere in the world. And maybe if you go cause chaos for some dictators or serial killers, or other terrible people, you can earn your way back here to the sanctuary we’re building. And then you can rest.”

His own face is wears an expression of such longing, such desire, that Stiles feels a reluctant sympathy. He’s known that longing. He’s known that yearning.

“Come on,” Stiles cajoles. “You could go cause chaos and yet do good in the world at the same time! But most importantly, you wouldn’t be doing it here.”

“I wish I could have taken you, Stiles,” it says, and the nogitsune changes from Stiles’ form to a bandage-wrapped person in a leather bomber jacket. “You would have been delightful.”

Stiles suppresses his shudder with some effort. “Then you’ll leave?”

“I can feel your power,” the nogitsune says sulkily. “And I am weak right now. I will go, and I will think about your advice.”

And then Stiles slams back into his body, into the circle, and a swirl of fireflies rises from Rafe McCall’s chest and disappears.

Stiles takes a deep breath. “Let the circle be closed but remain unbroken, and let the earth be satisfied with our cleansing.”

He’s not entirely surprised when a form appears, floating above McCall’s unconscious body. “Well done, Stiles.”

“Do you have a name?” Stiles asks, ignoring everyone else for now, although he knows there will be questions later.

“I am the Nemeton,” she says. “That is all the identity I require. I just hope that you will be a better custodian than my last one.”

Apparently, tree spirits have a lot of personality, because the Nemeton sounds somewhat dubious of humanity.

Which, fair. Stiles shares that opinion the vast majority of the time.

“I can only promise that I’ll try,” Stiles says.

“Wise not to make promises that you may not be able to keep,” the Nemeton replies. “You will finish the cleansing when you’re ready.”

And then the Nemeton is gone.

“What the hell was that?” Noah asks, at the same time as Mrs. Yukimura asks, “The nogitsune?”

Stiles holds up a hand. “One at a time, please. That was—a lot.”

Mrs. Yukimura inclines her head in his dad’s direction, and Noah raises his eyebrows. “What the hell was that, Stiles?”

“That was the Nemeton,” Stiles replies. “And she apparently needs no other name.”

Moira hums. “No, I don’t imagine she does. Nemeton is as much of a name as Yggdrasil.”

“And the nogitsune?” Mrs. Yukimura presses.

“Not here anymore,” Stiles replies, “and it’s been weakened. I suggested that it go feed itself on the tears of a dictator, and it said it would think about it.”

Mrs. Yukimura frowns. “You didn’t destroy it or trap it?”

“The first law of thermodynamics is that energy can neither be created nor destroyed, and trapping it here means retaining the taint in the ley lines,” Stiles replies, glancing at Moira.

Moira grimaces, but she nods. “Stiles is correct. Destroying a spirit of vengeance is no small undertaking, and Stiles has been charged with cleansing the Nemeton.”

Stiles shrugs. “No offense, but you didn’t conjure the nogitsune out of thin air. You called, and it answered. It would have been off terrorizing other people for the last 70 years if you hadn’t trapped it.”

“There are a lot of things that go bump in the night,” Noah says wearily. “And speaking as a law enforcement officer, sometimes, you just have to get comfortable with the fact that you’re not going to catch every bad guy.”

“But my dad?” Scott asks, piping up from the sidelines.

Stiles looks to Noelani, who shrugs eloquently. “He may have some after effects from the medication we gave him, but the bigger question is how he’s going to explain his actions here without getting into more trouble.”

“And how he’s going to respond to me being a werewolf,” Scott mutters.

Stiles frowns, drumming his fingers on his leg. “He might not have to know.”

Dave raises an eyebrow. “What are you thinking, Stiles?”

“Well, he came over here to raise holy hell, didn’t he?” Stiles asks. “If he remembers that much, what would he expect to happen?”

His dad starts to smile. “He’d expect to get laid out flat.”

“Even if his memories aren’t completely clear, Scott sent that text message,” Stiles points out. “He was nearly arrested recently. He might chalk the whole thing up to a regrettable incident where he drank too much, pissed off his son too much, and then nearly did something unforgivable. He might be so grateful not to be arrested or reported to his superiors at the FBI that he won’t ask too many questions.

“So, maybe we let him make assumptions, and we just don’t correct them,” Stiles adds with a shrug. “And if and when he demonstrates that he’s worthy of our trust, we can tell him the truth.”

Mrs. Yukimura is staring at him, shaking her head. “Are you sure you’re not a fox, Stiles?”

“Pretty sure, yeah,” Stiles says, but he grins. “But I think that means he has to wake up here without a crowd.” He pauses. “Well, not here here, but on the couch, anyway.”

Noah nods. “We’ll play it that way for now. Derek, Dave—“

“We’ll get him settled on the couch,” Dave says. “I’ll stick around with Derek. It would make sense that you’d call in a couple of deputies to deal with this mess.”

Noah nods. “Good enough.”

Stiles looks at Moira. “Do you want to stick around?”

“I think I might head over to Nolani’s for a nightcap, young spark,” Moira replies, accepting Stiles hand once he stands up.

Danny does the same for Noelani, and she accepts with a laugh. “Thank you, my boy.”

Stiles busses Moira’s cheek. “Thanks.”

“You did very well tonight,” she says softly. “You are growing in leaps and bounds, mo chroi.”

“Thanks to you and the pack,” Stiles counters.

She pats his cheek. “Get some rest tonight.”

“I’ll try,” Stiles replies. “Maybe the Nemeton will actually give me an assist.”

“One can live in hope,” Moira replies.

“We should get together for some lacrosse practice soon,” Danny says.

Stiles finds that the idea of just shooting the ball with his friends doesn’t bother him.

Dave and Derek get McCall settled on the couch in the living room, and the rest of the coven, including Moira, take their leave. 

Stiles stands next to his dad in the living room, and asks, “How do you want to play this, Dad?”

“Oh, so you’re letting me take charge of it now?” his dad asks, but there’s a twinkle in his eye.

Stiles shrugs. “It’s not like he’s going to listen to me.”

Noah rolls his eyes and ruffles Stiles’ hair. “Take Dave, Derek, and the dogs into the kitchen and hang out there. If we need you, we’ll holler.”

Stiles retrieves the dogs, and they go into the kitchen, standing around the counter. “Does anybody want a snack? Because I’m craving something sweet.”

Derek wordlessly goes into the freezer and takes out a plastic container. “Moira mentioned leaving this. She thought you might want it.”

Stiles knows exactly what’s in that container. “Peanut butter?”

“She made some for the dogs, too,” Derek adds, and removes a smaller plastic bag from the container.

Stiles glances at Dave. “Can I?”

“One each,” Dave says. “But only if you’re sharing.”

Derek puts the container on the counter, and Stiles tosses one of Moira’s special dog cookies to each of the dogs, who happily munch them down, even as the humans enjoy their own share.

Dave tilts his head. “McCall is waking up.”

“Show time, then,” Stiles says. “Better save at least a few of those for Dad and Scott, Derek. Scott’s had a very trying evening.”

Derek puts the lid back on the container, and Stiles whispers, “Can you hear anything?”

“Confusion and complaints about his head hurting,” Dave murmurs. “And he isn’t sure how he got here.”

“Did you know that Scott could cry on cue?” Derek asks in a low voice. “Because he’s telling his dad that he was scared of him.”

Stiles grins slowly. “Atta boy, Scotty.”

“Now McCall is trying to appease him, while not acknowledging what he did, probably because he doesn’t remember, but—damn. Noah is threatening to report him to OPR,” Dave says.

Stiles frowns. “Isn’t that the internal affairs division of the FBI?”

Dave nods. “Office of Professional Responsibility, and he’d probably face some serious consequences if your dad did that.”

Stiles winces, knowing that not everything had been completely McCall’s fault, although it’s hard to say how much of it had been the nogitsune. “It’s not all his fault.”

“And about the only person who might be able to explain that is Agent Marsh,” Derek points out in an undertone. “Besides, this gives Scott leverage over his dad so he can establish the relationship on his own terms—if he chooses to do so.”

Stiles strongly suspects that Scott is eventually going to forgive his dad unless his dad makes a move against the pack. “Good bet,” Stiles says.

“He does seem the forgiving sort,” Dave murmurs. “McCall is backing off. He’s asking Scott what kind of relationship he wants, and how much time he wants to spend with him.”

“Oh, look, he’s finally asking the right questions,” Stiles snorts.

Derek smirks. “Amazing what can happen if you figure out what questions to ask.”

“Or if you actually ask someone’s opinion instead of forcing your own on them,” Stiles replies.

Dave clears his throat. “I think it’s breaking up now.”

Stiles can hear the front door open, but Scott joins them in the kitchen, giving the container of cookies a look. “I hope you saved some for me.”

“‘course we did,” Stiles says easily.

Cocoa shoves her nose into Scott’s hand, and he drops to the floor and hugs her, burying his face in her fur, cookies apparently forgotten for the moment.

“You okay?” Stiles asks gently.

“Dad agreed that I could select where and when we would spend time together,” Scott says, his voice muffled. Nibs moves to press up against Scott’s back. “I said I needed a few weeks, because he kind of freaked me out. He agreed to wait for me to text him.”

Noah comes into the kitchen. He’s apparently taken a detour to put away his gun belt, and now he takes a moment to ruffle Scott’s hair. “You did really well tonight, Scott. You kept your cool, and you kept the pack safe.”

Scott looks up, a pleased flush on his face. “Really?”

“Really,” Noah replies, and grabs a cookie. 

Scott gives Stiles puppy eyes, and Stiles hands him a cookie so he doesn’t have to get off the floor, or stop petting the dogs.

“Thanks, dude,” Scott says through a full mouth, shoving half of it in his mouth at once.

“We can still report your dad to OPR if he doesn’t play ball,” Noah says. “But if he keeps his word, we’ll keep it quiet.”

Scott nods. “I understand, and I agree. It wouldn’t be fair to get him into trouble for something he wasn’t totally in control of.”

Noah smiles. “Good. Let’s talk about how things are going to go tomorrow. Derek, are you going to attend the hearing?” 

Stiles glances at Derek, but Derek shakes his head decisively. “My presence would just be a distraction. If Kate ever faces justice for the murders she committed, I’ll be there.”

Noah glances at Scott, who shakes his head. “Not unless you really want me there, Stiles. I don’t want to miss school.”

“No, man,” Stiles says easily. “Just make sure everyone takes notes for me, okay?”

Scott nods eagerly. “Done. Can I have another cookie?”

Stiles hands him another. 

“It’s going to be an early day tomorrow, son,” Noah says. “I need to call Mel and let her know the coast is clear.”

Derek has been tapping away on his phone. “I already let the rest of the pack know that we’re good.”

“Good, thank you,” Noah replies. “Don’t stay up too late.”

Stiles turns pleading eyes to Dave, and Dave chuckles. “Yeah, okay. Cocoa and Nibs can spend the night here.”

“I’ll bring them by first thing in the morning,” Derek promises.

Dave claps him on the shoulder. “Thanks, Derek. Stiles, as always, you are magical.”

“Maybe that will be my next tattoo,” Stiles jokes.

“Not until you’re 18!” His dad’s voice floats through the house. “That was a one-time deal!”

Stiles laughs. “You got it, Pops.” He doesn’t yell, because he knows his dad will be able to hear him easily.