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“So here’s the plan.”
At those words, Stiles’ mind snaps back to attention; he honestly had no idea how long it had been wandering. Scott, Allison and Isaac had been trying to come up with some ideas for dealing with the murders, or the Alpha pack, or both, their chatter occasionally punctuated by a sarcastic remark from Peter, but Stiles had zoned out some time ago. There was a limit to the number of times you could listen to a circular argument without going batshit crazy, and even Peter, the resident expert in crazy, had apparently reached capacity and dozed off. Stiles absently flipped a spoon around the table, his thoughts everywhere else.
Until he heard the word, “plan.” Because … this oughta be good.
“So,” Scott began, beginning to pace around them. “We’re assuming that the killer is somehow connected to the Alpha pack, but isn’t an actual Alpha, because the murders don’t look like werewolf kills, yeah?”
Allison nods her agreement; Isaac doesn’t argue. It’s a reasonable conclusion, Stiles concedes, but hardly foolproof. Historically, in his own limited knowledge, Beacon Hills has plenty weirdness to go around, so it’s entirely possible the Alpha pack’s arrival is coincidental to the murder spree. Another problem: just because the bodies don’t look like wolf kills, doesn’t mean it wasn’t one of the Alphas. They have a human side along with their wolf side, which makes them capable of ritual sacrifice. But … saying any of this would only have made an endless evening longer.
“Which means that together, we should be a match for them. I mean, as long as all the Alphas aren’t there to protect him. Or her.”
Again, the illogical levels of assumption going on here are enough to make Stiles’ head spin, and he kind of wishes Lydia were here to point out the obvious flaws; she does it with more style than he ever could. But then they’d be here another three hours, minimum, and he might genuinely lose the will to live.
He should argue, he knows, because underestimating the enemy – or even just going up against them knowing virtually nothing – could get them all hurt. Actually, that’s pretty much the best case scenario, here. But the truth is they need to do something. Innocent people are dying and to some degree, everyone here feels a sense of responsibility. At least those still awake.
“So, we set a trap for the killer.”
Allison and Isaac nod. Peter groans, proving he’s not asleep any more, probably never has been.
“If they’re human, Isaac and I should be able to overpower them.”
More nods.
“If they’re not, Allison will be able to shoot them. It won’t kill them, but it’ll slow them down. A lot.”
More agreement.
“Then we can bring them back here and find out what’s going on. And turn them over to the police if necessary.” He finishes, and looks around at his friends, hopefully, looking for their approval.
But a slow clap comes from the couch. “That’s just perfect, boy genius. But you still haven’t said exactly how you intend to trap your … unfortunate victim.”
Isaac looks at Allison, Allison looks at Scott, and Scott looks at Stiles, who pauses mid-spoon-flip and shrugs, eyes wide. Then his stomach drops as Scott’s eyes narrow and a slow smile appears.
“Bait,” he says slowly. “We need bait.”
Suddenly, Stiles has a horrible feeling he knows where this is headed. He drops the spoon and starts to lift his hands, palms facing outwards.
But apparently, Isaac doesn’t understand. “What do you mean, bait?”
Scott’s talking animatedly now, like he believes for the first time that his crazy plan might work. “The killer’s targeting virgins, right? We know this from the first three!”
“Yeah, er, just …” Stiles finds his voice for the first time in what seems like hours.
“Yeah! Stiles, you figured it out! That’s what all the victims had in common!”
“Uh-huh, totally true, but …”
“So all we need to do is to give them what they want!” Finally, Scott seems to realise what he’s saying, and his voice loses its excitement, turning sombre. “A virgin sacrifice.”
“Yeah, I got that,” Stiles winces, his eyes darting around the room. This is, seriously, one of the suckiest situations he’s ever found himself in, and that’s saying a lot. He’s doomed either way.
“It has to be you, Stiles.” Scott at least has the decency to look pained by his observation. “None of us, er, qualify.”
Stiles sighs, loudly, his eyes rolling heavenwards. “Yeah, but what I’ve been trying to tell you …”
Scott shakes his head slightly. “Hey, I get that this sucks. But we won’t let anything happen to you.”
Stiles blinks. The voice at the back of his mind is more than a little pissed that Scott thinks this is the problem. Like Stiles hasn’t signed up for at least a half-dozen suicide missions in the last six months.
“We’ll all be there. Allison will have them in her sights. Isaac and I will be ready to take them out. And we’ll have Derek as backup.”
“Hey, where is Derek?” Allison asks suddenly. It’s a reasonable point; it’s his home they’re all gathered in.
“Out, trying to find Cora,” Isaac says quietly. “Boyd’s still resting, but Cora recovered much faster, and bolted as soon as she woke up.”
Silently, Stiles files this away, shooting a glance over his shoulder at the door.
“We won’t let anything happen to you,” Scott continues. “So, you in or not?”
Finally, Stiles stands up. “Scott, buddy, it’s a great plan. Awesome. And I’d totally be on board, honestly, but … I’m not your guy.”
Scott looks understandably nonplussed. “But you’re …”
“Nope,” Stiles shakes his head, wondering why the hell he suddenly feels embarrassed. Embarrassing would’ve been being the only one in the room who did qualify, right? “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
Now it’s Scott’s turn to blink in bafflement; in Stiles’ peripheral vision, Allison and Isaac exchange small smirks. Stiles can feel Scott’s eyes boring into him, full of how come you didn’t tell me this? We share everything!” Stiles feels uncomfortable, even guilty, shifting restlessly, not sure what to do with his hands, and not sure exactly when might be the right time to speak.
When a loud bang echoes behind him, he feels like he’s saved, as all eyes turn that way. But when his brain catches up and he realizes that means Derek’s home, he knows it can only get worse.
Derek stops still, taking in the small group, and the apparent tension between them. He’s alone, Stiles realizes, so he hasn’t found Cora. His heart sinks a little further.
“What’s going on?”
No one speaks. Stiles runs a hand through his hair, he wouldn’t know where to start. Scott exchanges glances with Allison, then Isaac. Peter lets out a barely-audible sarcastic chuckle.
Finally, Allison speaks. “Scott has a plan to catch whoever’s been killing people.”
Derek raises his eyebrows at her, then glances at Scott, Isaac, then finally Stiles, who shrugs, not meeting his eyes.
“And how are you going to do that?”
Another long silence; the other seem to be waiting for Stiles to speak, but he’s not touching that one with sterilized gloves.
“By using Stiles as bait,” Peter eventually offers, drawing out the words, relishing every moment.
In that moment, everything changes. The tension in the room, previously uncomfortable, takes on a dangerous edge. “No way,” Derek says immediately, his tone final. “That’s not happening.”
Stiles winces for a second time, noticing the way Scott’s eyes are darting between the two of them. “It’s okay, big guy. I told them it wouldn’t work.”
Scott’s eyes nearly pop out of his head, and Stiles smiles for the first time all night.