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“So what do you think?”
Stiles didn’t know what to think honestly. If he thought bringing his dad on board so he could figure out some way to charge Argent with starting everything that’s happened to Beacon Hills over the last 10 years, he’d do it in a second. He wishes... oh he so wishes he could justify killing him. He knows each and every member of his pack does too - they’d do it in a second, without a thought, just one word from him and they’d tear Grandpa Argent apart and they’d like it. But Stiles would never do that to them, he’d never turn them into the very things they were fighting against in the alphas; killers. He couldn’t do it, he wouldn’t.
They’d begged him.
Isaac, Derek, Allison, Peter... They’d all begged him, asked his permission, wanting his blessing, but he wouldn’t do it.
Isaac hadn’t been subtle. He’d curled up on the sofa one evening while Derek was cooking something... containing actual nutritious values, and he’d wriggled about until he was comfortable, laying his head in Stiles’ lap, snuffling until he felt Stiles fingers start to card through his hair and huffed out a content sigh, eyes staring blankly at the TV, which was on low for their benefit, but that Stiles was still watching.
“You’re not doing it,” Stiles said calmly, chuckling when he felt the skin on Isaac’s forehead wrinkled in a frown.
“I’d be doing the world a favour,” Isaac huffed, mewling, pleased, as Stiles scratched at the back of his head, nails grazing down his neck easily. “Deserves it.”
“Let him wallow in his own misery,” Stiles hummed. “Doesn’t deserve to make a killer out of you, pup.” Isaac huffed but didn’t argue. When Derek brought three plates in for them to eat, Isaac shifted until he was sat on the floor, his plate on the coffee table while Derek and Stiles sat behind him up on the sofa. Stiles took in the scene and snorted. “Don’t look now, but we’ve gone all domestic.”
“Can’t talk, eating,” Derek deadpanned and Stiles laughed.
Peter couldn’t be swayed as easily as Isaac was. Peter was already a killer, and no matter how much he regretted it, he had killed his own niece. So what would an Argent matter to his tainted conscience?
“I don’t want his blood on your hands,” Stiles sighed, tired, after arguing with the man for the last hour, he was drained physically and mentally, not to mention emotionally and Peter was relentless. He wanted Argent dead - if not just for Stiles, then for everything the man and his family had done to him and his pack.
“I’d be guilt free, no adverse effects, no nightmares in fact,” he said, pointing the fork he’d been holding in Stiles’ direction. “I’ll have dreamless nights for a decade. You’d really be permitting me peaceful sleep... Would an alpha deny a beta such a basic right?” he batted his eyelashes but Stiles had his eyes closed in exasperation.
“You have a job to do,” Stiles pointed out. “You’re helping me figure out Cora...”
“But this wouldn’t even take that long-”
“I said no!” Stiles said, voice even but so forceful that Peter’s eyes glowed blue as he fought the direct order from the mate of his alpha. “Now, can you please tell me what Alpha Gentry from Seattle told you about her run-in with Cora and Deucalion?” Peter didn’t mention Gerard again but Stiles could feel how deeply the man felt about his preferred course of action, so he resigned himself to more battles in his very near future.
Allison had just offered to poison him, make it look like an accident, no one would be any the wiser... she even admitted to almost going ahead without talking to Stiles about it.
“There you go then,” Stiles said with a small smile and Allison frowned, confused. “You knew I wouldn’t sanction murder. It doesn’t matter how you colour it, it’s murder, cold blooded out and out homicide and you knew I’d say no. You might think you want to kill him, and hey, maybe you do sometimes, but he’s your Grandfather and despite the fucked up existence he’s carved for himself, he’s your family-”
“You! You are my family!” she snapped, eyes glistening. “You are, Scott is, this pack is my family. That... monster, is nothing to me,” she spat and the first tear fell. Stiles draped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close.
“So why are you so upset?”
She didn’t answer straight away but when she did, he gave her a sad, but understanding smile.
“Because I would have gone through with it.”
And that’s why he told her no.
Derek had been ready to storm the hospice facility the second Allison told them. He continued to argue with Stiles, listing reason after reason why killing Gerard would be a good thing, a positive thing, a thing that would make their lives that little bit easier in the face of so much crap they had to deal with but Stiles was resolute.
“Why should my pack give more blood for him? Why should my pack sweat a single drop more for him? Why should my pack stain their hands with his blood so he can be rid of his own tortured existence? So he can be free of the agony he’s in? So he can be free of a world where no one trusts him, no one cares about him, where everyone loathes him, where he’ll never spend another second happy ever again? Why should I allow my pack to deny him that? To end that suffering? Why, Derek? Why would you want to end his suffering? Hasn’t he earned the torture he’s going through right now? Hasn’t he done enough to deserve the pain he’s in?”
Derek hadn’t had an answer but he did stop arguing though like Peter, Stiles suspected more battles.
And Scott...
Scott had been a surprise. Scott had been the first.
When Allison had first come to Stiles and Derek and told them she’d seen and spoke to Gerard, it took Stiles a while to come down from his panic attack and in the end, Derek had called Scott over because Stiles, for the first time in a long time, wasn’t responding to him at all. Scott arrived within five minutes and Stiles was still shaking, curled up in a ball on the sofa, struggling to gain a breath. Scott told Derek and Allison to clear out for a while so he could deal with Stiles and surprisingly, they didn’t argue. Derek hesitated by Allison pulled him out by the hand.
Then Scott talked Stiles down.
Scott was on the sofa, Stiles’ back pressed against his front, Scott’s arms wrapped around his friend, his hands grasping Stiles’ wrists, mouth near his ear, whispering calming words, promises that he wouldn’t leave, vows that he’d protect Stiles, apologies about being unable to protect him from Gerard before... Then when Stiles was finally able to speak, he licked his lips and drew a breath.
“You know...” he whispered, feeling Scott release a breath against his ear.
“Since I called your dad to the hospital and you came with him,” Scott admitted. “I connected the scents on the victim in the hospital to the confusing scents I remembered when you were there the first time.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Stiles asked, his eyes closing again. “Why didn’t you ask?”
“You didn’t bring it up, I wasn’t going to put you through it unless you initiated the conversation.”
“But why? Didn’t you want to know?”
“Stiles, of course I wanted to know, but I understood that you had your reasons for not telling me, whether it was to spare your memories or spare my feelings on it, that doesn’t matter. The fact it, you didn’t bring it up so I didn’t. You were safe and that’s all that matters. And when Argent’s dead, for good this time, you’ll remain safe.”
“What? Is he dying still?”
Scott frowned at the back of his friends head before rolling his eyes.
“Probably? But I’m going to kill him.”
It was said in such a nonchalant way that Stiles actually believed he might just go do that. He jerked and wriggled in Scott’s grasp until Scott released him and let him turn around so they were facing one another. “You are not killing Gerard Argent in some fucked up revenge fantasy for him attacking me!” he said hotly, eyes narrowed, tone set and Scott’s eyes widened.
“What? Why the hell not? Stiles-”
“I said no!” he snapped, glaring at his friend. “Too many lives have been destroyed by his actions; I’m not letting him destroy yours too.”
Scott had argued but had eventually been browbeaten by Stiles and left the loft when Derek and Allison eventually returned, with Allison, scowling and sulking but with a promise that he wouldn’t do anything stupid.
“I think,” Stiles said later having heard Scott’s Argent story and after retelling Peter's story about Derek. “That he’s responsible for so much more than we originally thought.”
Scott nodded silently.
“Even if his heartbeat didn’t tell you he was lying, he has to be... he can’t have gone there and been a victim, that’s just not Gerard. He always has an ulterior motive... he would’ve sacrificed his own men without thinking or caring. He wouldn’t give a crap about sending Deucalion’s ranks into disarray - making the beta turn against him, sending Deucalion on this path... he’d be proud he’d started so much bloodshed.”
“How can someone have so much hate inside him though?” Scott asked, genuinely confused by his own question. “How can someone do something so heinous to a group of people just because they’re different?”
“Look at history, dude,” Stiles sighed. “It’s full of people like Gerard."
“Oh shit,” Scott moaned, burying his head into Stiles’ shoulder.
“What?!” Stiles asked, concerned and Scott continued to groan.
“I totally forgot about the history quiz tomorrow.”