Chapter Text
To say that this day was the worst day of his life, would have been an understatement of the most colossal proportions. Like, seriously, the only things that could possibly make this day any worse were the Ten Plagues of Egypt or a Dalek invasion. And the way today was going; either of those happening wouldn’t even surprise him.
He hadn’t even been awake for a full five minutes, before things had started going downhill.
It wasn’t like he’d set out to intentionally make Derek angry. Right before he’d woken up, everything had been perfect. He’d been in that warm and comfy place between sleeping and waking, with the most delicious smell of Derek, mixed with the faint hint of breakfast, filling his nose.
Then Derek said something about ‘hunters’ and his wolf had jumped into fight mode—or at least a clumsy, jolt of alertness.
Once he’d calmed down, he noticed just how close he and Derek were. His wolf had purred in happiness. Unfortunately, Stiles brain just had to choose that moment to jump back to thoughts of the previous night. Not to the amazing sex they’d had or when Derek had opened up to him and shared about his past. No, Stiles’ first thought just had to be about how Derek hadn’t really wanted to sleep with him and had told him to leave at first but the Heat hormones had overwhelmed him. This of course made Stiles start to worry about how Derek would yell at him or just kick him out. But Derek, the secretly great guy that he is, had tried to make it okay, in his own awkward way.
When Derek had moved away from him on the bed, his wolf howled in protest but he had managed to contain himself. He had desperately wanted to just fling himself back into Derek’s arms but the hunters were going to attack today and they had needed to prepare. So, he’d taken the first opening he could get to have an excuse to get away, before he could do or said something really embarrassing.
Not that his babbling hadn’t bad enough.
It had taken him twice as long to show as it normally did because most of the time had been spent trying to rein in his inner wolf and keep himself from running after Derek. The fact that he used Derek’s shower didn’t help. It is next to impossible to stop thinking about someone, while being surrounded by their scent.
When he finally emerged from the shower, he thought he should have a quick talk with Derek, just to clear the air between them, only to find that Derek had already gone downstairs. He had lingered on the stairs for a few minutes, before he realized that he was just prolonging the inevitable awkward moment.
When he had entered the kitchen, the first thing he laid eyes on was Derek. His wolf rose up in him again and he was nearly overcome with a strange and fierce desire to sink his teeth into Derek’s neck.
Mine. Bite. Claim.
He had hesitated in the doorway for a moment, to get his wolf under control, and then had taken his usual place at the table. It had been tense and a little awkward and what little conversation there was had been strained.
After they had finished eating, the only thing they could do was wait. The waiting had been both better and worse than before. It was better because he had been calmer since they finally had a plan but at the same time having a plan somehow made it all seem so real. Before, the
Then he had gotten a call from his dad, letting him know that he had managed to get a couple of the specialized gas masks for them. Under normal circumstances that would have been just the type of good news to lift his spirits. And it had. Until his dad had told him that he would be staying in the Preserve.
He had hated the idea of his dad being in danger but, realistically, he knew that there wasn’t much he could do about it. His dad was a trained police officer and should—in theory—be able to hold his own against three guys in their early twenties. But these were hunters.
And then there was more waiting. It was a little better because he was out in the woods and able to move around more but he still had to wear the gas mask, which he hated. It wasn’t just uncomfortable, it was restricting and made him feel caged in. He’d had to consciously fight the urge to shake it off, like a dog with its head stuck in a paper bag.
Then there was the noise. At first, the noise had been almost unbearable. It was even worse than when the douche in the dorm room next to his at Berkeley blasted his death metal music. Worse because it was just noise he had heard, it was fear. It’s like how scary movies are scarier in the movie theater than at home because you can hear other people’s frightened screams, feel their panic. A flashback of the first time he watched the forest fire scene in Bambi, when he was six, had flitted through is mind.
All of these elements had kept him on edge and restless, as they had waited for the hunters to arrive. He had kept well out of sight, partially to follow Peter’s orders but mostly to keep one ear on the lookout towards the back of the house, the direction of his dad. If the hunters came from that direction…He didn’t even want to think about it.
When the hunter had finally arrived, nothing happened like it was supposed to. Mostly because the hunters—the three punks who had driven him and his pack to the brink of insanity with worry—WEREN’T ACTUAL HUNTERS.
They were just a couple of idiots following a nut-job.
Stiles could admit that he’d done his fair share of idiotic things growing up—trying to throw a trash can lid around like Captain America’s Shield, attempting to fix the brakes on his Jeep by himself after watching a YouTube video of how to do it, and of course going out into the woods alone at night while a rogue Alpha werewolf was on the loose, to name a few—but he’d never done anything this malicious. Yeah, he’d been a bit of a prankster and a general nuisance but he’d never hurt anyone or ever done anything with the intension of hurting someone.
These three actually thought it would be fun to kill three people.
And the tomato-faced guy who had been yelling at his dad at the station had been right; his competition really was trying to run him out of business.
Once they had gotten a full confession from the wannabe-hunters, Peter had ordered him to go his dad so he could arrest them. Personally, he thought Peter should have held them over the edge of a cliff or at least transformed into his full Alpha mode to really put the fear of God in those idiots. But he supposed that prison was a good enough alternative. He’d sent a text to his dad saying that they’d caught the hunters and he was on his way to meet him. Then he set off at a run for the Preserve parking lot.
Of course, that’s when everything had to go to hell again.
He’d been running through the trees and was halfway to his dad, when he thought that. Two seconds later he’d heard the gunshots. Skidding in the leaves and moss of the forest floor as he tried to turn too quickly, he jumped up, kicked off against a tree, and launched himself back in the direction of the Hale House. If he wasn’t so worried about his pack, he would have been really impressed with how awesome that little move was.
It can’t be. He thought desperately. All three of those bastards were on the ground and none of them had guns.
A queasy feeling settled in his gut as he ran like his life depended on it. And maybe it did. After his mom died, he’d been so broken. Life had seemed to lose all purpose and joy. Only a lot of time, therapy, and the support of good friends had helped him go back a small semblance of a normal life. He didn’t know if he could go through that again. If he could stand loosing another person he cared so much about.
As he neared the Hale House, a little voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Peter warned him to slow down and take stock of the situation before he rushed in. He came to a stop just inside of the tree line with a clear view of the house as well as the three forms lying motionless on the ground in front of it. The two cowardly wannabe-hunters were still whimpering on the ground but the loud-mouthed psycho, with the fake military haircut, was on his feet nudging Peter with his foot.
“You see!” Shane proclaimed triumphantly. “I told you the wolfsbane would work.”
“Those were gunshots, Shane,” Dave said.
“Whatever, they’re dead now!”
They were alive! Stiles could hear their heartbeats. Their heart rates were slower because they were unconscious, but they were there. And Dave was right; those had been gunshots but obviously not from these three idiots. He couldn’t smell any blood but, then again, he couldn’t really smell much of anything with this gas mask on, other than smoke and plastic.
Shane decided he was going to celebrate his victory by kicking Peter’s unconscious form. Stiles bit back a growl. He desperately wanted to run down there and defend his pack but someone had just shot them. If he went down there in the open, he would be completely exposed to the same sniper that took down his pack. He needed to formulate a plan and he needed to do it quickly.
Before he could think of anything, three forms emerged from the trees just opposite of him. All three of them carried sniper rifles and were wearing what looked like ponchos made of leaves and twigs woven together.
Ghillie suits. The little trivia tip from a snipers special on the history channel popped into his mind. These are real hunters.
Shane tripped over himself as he scrambles to move back from the approaching figures. Stiles felt his claws come out and he crouched down in preparation to burst out of hiding if the hunters tried to finish off his pack. Then one of the real hunters removed his hood and looked down at Peter. He was old. In his sixties at the very least. He had a hard face and what little hair he had was solid white.
“It’s you!” Shane exclaimed. “I knew it! I knew you didn’t mean it, when you said I couldn’t be one of you. You were just testing me. Seeing if I could go through with it. But I did! I passed!”
“Someone shut this idiot up,” the old man ordered. His voice was deep and gravely with an edge of cruelty in it.
Even before the old man spoke, the hunter on his right was stepping forward. Hurt, betrayal, and fear flashed across Shane’s face in quick succession, before the hunter brought the butt of his rifle against the back of his head, knocking him unconscious. Dave and Chad let out panicked noises but stayed frozen on the ground. Stiles didn’t like Shane and would happily see him in prison, but in that instant he felt bad for him. Stiles knew what it was like to want to belong somewhere and he wasn’t stupid enough to believe that these hunters would just let Shane and his friends go. They were witnesses to what was about to happen and that made them dangerous liabilities.
“On your feet,” barked the man who had just knocked out Shane.
Dave and Chad wobbly stood, tears rushing down their faces, only to collapse to the ground again, as the hunter efficiently knocked them both unconscious the same way he had done to Shane.
“Pathetic,” sneered the third hunter. “They barely even put up a fight against the wolves.”
“The youth of today,” the old man sighed wearily. “They’ll talk big when their hiding behind a keyboard but get them outside in the real world and—”
The old man didn’t get to finish his sentence as he doubled over in a coughing fit. The third hunter went over to see if he was alright but the old man just waived him away.
“I’m fine,” the old man wheezed. “It’s just all this smoke in the air. Now, get them inside.”
“What do you want us to do with these three?’ the second hunter asked, pointing at the three wannabe-hunters.
“Leave them tied up back here,” the old man said dismissively. “They might be useful for some practice later on.”
Practice?
What the heck is going on? Why aren’t they just killing them? Stiles wondered. From all that he’d heard about hunters, they killed werewolves and hid the bodies. So why didn’t they just kill them and dump their bodies in the woods. Not that Stiles wanted that to happen but it didn’t make any sense. Are they going to try and stage it to make it look like they died of natural causes? Like they just breathed in too much smoke and suffocated.
The old man knelt down and picked up Peter’s phone. Then he made his way of the steps of the back porch, while the other two put on gloves and then removed some kind of rope from their bags and began tying up the Hales. One of them hefted Laura up over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carried her inside, while the third one started dragging Peter.
Stiles though about rushing down and freeing Derek that way the two of them could rush the hunters but he thought better of it. All three of the Hales were still unconscious and there was no guarantee he could wake Derek up. He might be drugged. Also, the old man was still on the porch, rifle at the ready. There was no way he’d be able to make it across the yard and to Derek before the old man could take a shot at him.
He had to play this smart. They weren’t killing them yet, so he still had time. He wished that he could run back and get his dad but he couldn’t risk it. Instead he circled around to the side of the house, keeping himself hidden behind the tree line. Once, they had Derek inside and the door closed, he risked getting closer to the house. Silently as he could, he jumped up to the roof of the second story. He could hear the hunters moving around inside, searching each room. Soon they were satisfied that the house was empty and gathered in the living room. He could just barely hear the murmuring of their conversation but couldn’t hear anything specific.
I need to know what they’re saying. What they’re doing.
Nimbly making his way over the room, he headed towards Derek’s bedroom window. It was the only one in the house that he knew for a fact would be unlocked. Derek hated to be in any room without at least two escape routes.
The creak of the window opening sounded impossibly loud in his ears but he knew the hunters wouldn’t be able to hear it. Silently, he slipped inside and ripped off his gas mask. The room still smelled of him and Derek and sex. It made his heart ache at the reminder of how much he had to lose. If something happened to Derek—
Nope. Not thinking of that. It’s not going to happen. I’m going to figure this out and be a hero. A Big Damn Hero.
But first he had to find out what kind of game these hunters were playing.
Thankfully, the hunters had left Derek’s door wide open. They might not have been able to hear Derek’s window opening but Derek’s door with the rusty hinges was a whole other ballgame. He crept out into the hall and to the top of the stairs, carefully avoiding all the creaky floorboards that he’d memorized in the year and a half that he’d spent here. Then he got down flat on his belly, face pressed against the hardwood of the top step and listened.
“Use more rope on the nephew,” the old man ordered. “And make sure they’re tight. Wouldn’t want him breaking free at the wrong moment now would we.”
Now that he didn’t have the gas mask blocking his sense of smell, he was able to learn a great deal of information just from a few sniffs. The Hales had definitely been drugged. He could smell the synthetic chemical scent of narcotics muddying the scents of his pack. There was something else as well. The ropes they were bound in weren’t ordinary ropes. He could smell wolfsbane on them as well as the scent of blistering skin from where they were touching wrists and ankles.
They must be soaked in wolfsbane or maybe even woven with wolfsbane fibers.
He could smell the hunters as well. Mostly. Their scents were muted, dulled down somehow. They must have done something to cover their scents but he still caught a little. They smelled of sweat and Kevlar, gunpowder and dirt, and the tiniest hint of wolfsbane. Nowhere near as much as the wannabe-hunters but it was still there.
“Administer the diprenorphine,” the old man commanded. “We need them awake for this next part.”
“All three of them?” the second hunter asked. “I thought we only needed the Alpha.”
“Better to motivate him if they’re awake,” the old man replied.
“Shouldn’t we wait for you to recover more, before we wake them up?” the third hunter inquired. “The recoil from your rifle knocked you back a bit and all the smoke and the hike up here didn’t exactly help.”
“Are you implying that I’m not strong enough to handle it?” the old man asked menacingly.
“I’m just saying that we have time,” the third hunter said in a more subdued voice.
“And there’s no time like the present,” the old man said. “Now wake them up.”
They’re waking them up. That’s a good thing. I hope.
Stiles heard one of the hunters rummage around in his bag before pulling out some kind of pouch and unzipping it. There were the tinkling sounds of glass vials knocking against each other and the sound of a syringe being filled. He could almost swear that he even heard the needle puncturing their skin. He wanted to sneak a quick peek at what was happening so badly but he couldn’t. If just one of the hunters caught a glimpse of him, the element of surprise would be gone and that was the only edge he had right now.
He wasn’t in the best position even with surprise on his side. Only one of the hunters was anywhere near the stairs. From the sound of their heartbeats, the other two were on the other side of the living room near the kitchen door, with Peter, Laura, and Derek on the ground between them. He might be able to take out the one by the stairs but there was no way he could get to the other two.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of Peter waking up, shortly followed by Laura and Derek. He could hear the exact moment they became aware of the situation they were in. Their heart rates skyrocketed and Derek and Laura at least struggled to get out of their ropes.
“Peter Hale,” the old man gushed with malicious glee. “We meet at last.”
“Gerard,” Peter said flatly. Derek and Laura growled.
Gerard! Gerard Argent! Master Werewolf Hunter extraordinaire. The father of the psychotic bitch who killed Derek’s parents! Shit, we’re in trouble!
“Just ‘Gerard’. That’s all you have to say,” Gerard said. “I expected a little more from you. After all, you’re quite well known for how eloquent you are. I was looking forward to a good conversation.”
“You arranged all this just for a conversation,” Peter replied calmly, as if he wasn’t tied up and at the mercy of a murderous sociopath. “A simple phone call might have worked better.”
“True, but there’s nothing quite like a good face-to-face chat,” Gerard laughed, though there wasn’t any humor in it. “And I went to an awful lot of trouble to get us all here.”
“So the three Stooges were yours,” Peter said. “I have to say, your training standers have certainly gone down over the years, if those three were best you could produce.”
“Not mine, not exactly,” Gerard corrected. “You could say I took a page from the wolf hunters of old. They didn’t have the technology we have today. They had to rely on their cunning. So, when they were after larger game, first they would send in the hounds to flush out their prey.”
“You used them as cannon fodder.”
“A few pawns are always sacrificed to capture a King.”
“Rather crude,” Peter said. “But effective. And the tranquilizers? It’s not like anything I’ve ever felt before.”
“Etorphine Hydrochloride,” Gerard answered. “Wonderful little bit of human ingenuity for dealing with beasts. It’s used as an elephant tranquilizer in most places. And it has a handy little antidote that wakes you up again in a matter of seconds. Rather effective against werewolves, wouldn’t you agree?”
Stiles had no idea what the heck was going on. He always knew that Peter was cool under pressure but he was just sitting there tied up, having a conversation with a man who wanted to kill him, like it was the more normal think in the world. Stiles felt like he’d stepped into an episode of the Twilight Zone and that any moment Laura would get up and ask if anyone wanted tea and cookies.
Laura too was sitting calmly, not even moving a muscle, though he could just imagine her eyes flitting back and forth between the three hunters.
Derek was the only one who was even attempting to get out of his ropes, with little success from the sound of it. Every frustrated growl or little whine from the wolfsbane laced ropes digging into his skin tugged at Stiles’ heart.
Peter must be stalling for time and Gerard doesn’t seem to mind. He’s actually enjoying it, like some cheesy movie villain. The creep. But what exactly is Peter stalling for? Is he waiting for me to do something? He has to know I’m up here. If I can hear his heartbeat he has to be able to hear mine. But what does he want me to do?
“So is there a reason you’ve come all this way?” Peter inquired. “Or are you truly that bored that you gave to go through all this just to gloat about how clever you are.”
“You put my daughter on death row,” Gerard spat, voice full of venom. “She’s rotting in a prison cell right now because of you, just waiting for them to execute her.”
“She put herself there, when she murdered members of my family for no reason other than her own bloodlust,” Peter countered, rage just barely contained beneath the surface of his voice.
The tension was palpable and Stiles just knew that Peter was staring Gerard down.
The sounds of heavy breathing echoed through the room. Even Derek had stopped struggling with his ropes. Again, Stiles desperately wanted to see what was happening but he stayed rooted to the spot, hoping that Peter would give him some sort of signal as to what he should do.
Then Stiles heard Peter take in a long breath through his nose and give a harsh laugh.
“The smoke in the air must really have been affecting my senses,” Peter announced. “I don’t know how I missed the stench of decay coming off you.”
“I’m rather surprised it took you this long to detect it,” Gerard shot back. “You wolves are supposed to have such keen noses.”
“Cancer” Laura stated hesitantly.
“Stage IV” Gerard agreed. “They say that it’s metastasized, spread throughout my entire body.”
“Well, I’m not normally a believer in karmic retribution but I might have to reconsider that,” Peter said dryly.
“That’s why you’re here now,” Laura seethed. “You want revenge before you die.”
“Revenge yes,” Gerard confirmed. “But I don’t plan on dying anytime soon.”
There was a pause before Peter spoke again.
“You want the bite,” Peter said in a voice Stiles had never heard before.
That can’t be right. Gerard is a hunter, he hates werewolves more than anything. He’d never want to become one.
But you can never tell what people would be willing to do to survive.
“But you hate werewolves,” Laura protested. “You’ve dedicated you’re life to killing us.”
“And just think how much more effective I’d be, with the bite. All the knowledge of a master hunter and all the speed and strength of a werewolf,” Gerard gloated.
“Never,” Peter stated.
“Never say never,” Gerard taunted. “Especially, not where the lives of your pack are concerned.”
“I’ll never give you the bite.” Peter stated again.
“You either give me the bite or I’ll kill your pack, one by one, right in front of you,” Gerard said and Stiles heard no lie in his voice.
“You’re going to kill us all either way,” Peter countered.
“Oh, you I’ll definitely kill,” Gerard admitted. “How else would I become an Alpha? But I might spare your niece and nephew. I could probably use some experienced Betas in my new pack.”
“They’d never be loyal to you and you would never trust them. You’d never let them live.”
“All true,” Gerard said, and Stiles could hear the smugness in his voice. “So, let me put it another way. Give me the bite and I’ll kill them quickly, refuse and they will suffer. Our methods have evolved a great deal over the generations. I could keep them alive and in constant agony for weeks, months even, before they finally die. Reduce them to nothing more than slobbering beasts. Do you really want to condemn your dear niece and nephew to that fate?”
Peter didn’t answer.
He can’t seriously be thinking of giving him the bite! Just give me some kind of signal. Let me know what I should do!
“Peter, don’t even think about it!” Laura begged. “You can’t give that monster the bite. You can’t.”
Derek roared and struggled against his ropes even harder. Stiles jumped to his feet but the sound was drowned out by the sound of one of the hunters bashing Derek on the head with his rifle.
“Sure, just lean your neck down for me and I’ll give you the bite,” Peter snarked.
“You’re not a vampire, Hale,” Gerard said sharply. “A bite on the arm will do just fine. Now change into your Beta form. I know full well that human teeth won’t work.”
“Let them go and I’ll give you the bite,” Peter said. “I’ll order them to leave; they won’t be able to resist my order.”
“I think you need some motivation,” Gerard icily. “Bring me the nephew.”
Derek!
Derek snarled and thrashed as a hunter dragged him over to Gerard. The hunter nearest Stiles shifted position until he was right at the foot of the stairs, rifle aimed across the room, presumably at Derek.
“You work with plants, so you should appreciate this Peter,” Gerard said, and again there was the tinkling sound of glass vials knocking against each other. “These days you hear so much about young kids growing marijuana, playing with the plant strains to make it even stronger. Well, a few of our number have been working on something similar with aconite. This strain is quite new. They nicknamed it ‘Hunter’s Delight.’ From what I’m told, it’s just a painful and deadly to you as regular aconite, only it takes five times as long to reach the heart.”
“You inject him with that and I’ll never give you the bite,” Peter yelled.
“Oh, but you will,” Gerard said confidently. “You’ll see. A few hours of watching him writhe in agony and you’ll be begging to give me the bite and put him out of his misery. Hold him still.”
Stiles’ entire world went red.
It took him a second to realize that the roaring in his ears was actually coming from him, but by that time he was already tackling the hunter at the foot of the stair. He didn’t even remember making the decision to jump down the stairs, before he was on top of the man. He couldn’t remember anything other than that Derek was in danger.
The hunter was down as soon as Stiles landed on him, rendered unconscious by the force of Stile body slamming him into the floor. Running on pure instinct, Stiles jumped up, turned, and launched himself directly at Gerard. Not even caring that Gerard and the other hunter had guns and could shoot him, Stiles leapt through the air; his focus was locked on Gerard. He would make this man pay for even thinking of hurting his pack, his Derek.
He’d never considered himself a violent person, even with his more animalistic werewolf traits on the full moon, but right now he wanted to kill. He wanted to eviscerate these hunters. He wanted to feel their hot blood coating his hands and hear their screams of pain and terror ringing in his ears. He wanted to cut them into ribbons to send a message to everyone and everything that this is what would happen if they dared to harm his pack.
Regrettably, that isn’t what happened.
One second he was flying through the air, claws out and ready to sink them into Gerard’s chest, and the next second he was on the ground writhing in agony. The pain was excruciating. It felt like every muscle in his body was locked up and set on fire. Above him, Gerard was looming, malevolence gleaming in his eyes. In his hand was an electric cattle prod, crackling with more electricity than it probably should. To his left he could hear Derek being repeatedly bashed over the head by the other hunter.
“Is Mason alive?”
“Just stunned,” Gerard announced. “I can see him breathing.”
Gerard then took the cattle prod and pressed it into Stiles’ side again. Again his muscles locked up and he felt like every muscle in his body was being ripped apart.
“Another Beta,” Gerard scoffed. “I should have guessed. Which one of your pack took a mate, your Alpha heir or your degenerate nephew?”
Even through the pain, Stiles couldn’t hold back a growl at that last part.
Not only is he a specists murderer but he’s also a homophobe.
“So it’s the nephew then,” Gerard smiled cruelly.
All at once the pain abruptly stopped. The shock of the sudden loss of searing pain made him gasp. He looked over at Derek only to meet his gaze. The raw desperations in Derek’s eyes cut right through him. Blood was flowing freely down the side of his face, from a gash just above his left eye, but he’d finally stopped struggling. Next to him, Laura looked like she was on the verge of tears but was stubbornly refused to let them fall.
“His room did reek of sex, when we were searching the house,” the hunter who had been hitting Derek said. “I just thought he was fucking his sister.”
“He’s not a member of our pack,” Peter said. Stiles knew he was lying, could tell from his heartbeat, but it still hurt to hear his Alpha say that. “He’s a stray Omega, just passing through.”
“So, he’s trying to buy his way into the pack by being your fuck toy?” the younger hunter taunted.
“I don’t think so,” Gerard cackled. “No stray Omega would react so passionately to the threat against another wolf’s life, unless it was a member of his own pack.”
“He wants to join our pack but I’ve been refusing,” Peter bluffed. “He’s young and stupid. Probably thought that we’d let him join our pack, if he saved us from you.”
“I don’t believe that for a second,” Gerard argued. “But let’s put it to a test shall we. I’ll give you until the count of three and, when I get to three, you either agree to give me the bite or I blow this boys brains all over your living room floor.”
Gerard then took out a ridiculously large, silver handgun and leveled it directly at Stiles’ head. Stiles had been around guns all his life, from his dad’s 9mm Glock to his grandfather’s old deer hunting rifle, but this was the first time he’d ever had one pointed at him. It was a completely different feeling to be looking down this end of the barrel. Derek started struggling again but the other hunter had him pinned. Laura was trembling, her eyes locked on Peter, silently pleading. Peter’s face was a mask but his heart rate was sky-rocketing in his chest.
“One.”
Laura whined and Derek struggled even harder. A cold sweat broke out over Stiles’ skin.
“Two.”
Derek’s growls became even louder and the hunter holding him knocked him on the head with his gun again. Peter’s face was still a blank mask.
“Thr—”
A pounding at the front door made everyone’s head turn in that direction. No one moved or said anything. The pounding on the front door continued, followed by a familiar voice that made Stiles heart leap up into his throat.
“This is the Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Department,” his dad yelled. “Is there anyone in there?”
Crap! Dad must have gotten suspicious when I never showed up to meet him.
Gerard turned his attention back to Stiles.
“Young maybe, but not so stupid after all,” Gerard sneered. “He managed to call the police before he undertook his own rescue attempt.”
“I didn’t,” Stiles denied, terrified that Gerard would shoot his father.
“Peter, Laura, or Derek Hale,” his dad hollered again. “I’m here on behalf of the Fish and Wildlife Department, regarding the Prescribed Burning. It’s urgent that I speak with you.”
“I don’t think he’s gonna leave on his own,” the younger hunter said.
“No, not when all their cars are parked out front,” Gerard agreed. “Untie the girl but keep your gun on her.”
The younger hunter pulled out a switchblade and sliced off her bonds in a few measured swipes. At the same time Gerard bend down, grabbed the front of Stiles’ shirt, and roughly hauled him to his feet. He held Stiles’ upper arm in a deceptively strong grip, pressed the cold metal of his gun’s muzzle to the side of Stiles’ head, and then turned to address Laura, as she got to her feet.
“You’re going to see what the officer wants,” Gerard ordered. “You’re going to convince him that everything is fine and get him to leave. If you don’t, I’ll shoot this boy’s head off and then Liam here will shoot you and the nice officer. Understood?”
“Yes,” Laura glared, rubbing her tender wrists. Then Liam jabbed her in the back with the end of his rifle to get her moving toward the front door.
Stiles watched helplessly, as Laura walked to the front door, Liam right on her heels. She carefully opened the door so that his dad couldn’t see into the living room. Liam had positioned himself right behind the door, his gun poised to shoot both Laura and his dad.
“Miss Hale, I presume. I’m Officer Clark,” his dad lied. “I’m here to inform you that you and your family need to temporarily relocate. We’ve gotten word from the Fish and Wildlife Department to evacuate all the homes in this area. There’s been some kind of shift in the weather patterns and pretty soon the smoke and other debris in the air will reach hazardous levels.”
“Is the fire going to spread all the way over here?” Laura asked? the concern in her voice wasn’t entirely faked.
“The fire is still contained, it’s just the wind that’s pushing the smoke in a direction they didn’t anticipate,” his dad replied and Stiles was never gladder that humans couldn’t hear lies the way that werewolves could. “We’ve set up a temporary shelter in the High School Gymnasium or you can see if any hotels have rooms available, but you have to check in at the Gymnasium first, so that we know everyone in the hazard zone has been accounted for.”
Damn, he’s good. Stiles thought, impressed with his father’s ability to lie.
“Okay officer,” Laura replied. “We’ll just pack up a few things and head into town shortly. You can head on out. I’m sure there are other houses you have to alert.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that Miss Hale,” his dad said. “I’m under orders to escort you and your family out of here as soon as possible. I can’t leave until you’re in your car and following me into town to ensure your safety.”
This is not good. Dad has to know the hunters are here—why else would he used a fake name and act like he didn’t know Laura—but he doesn’t know that one of them has a gun on him right now. He’d wearing his Kevlar vest but I don’t think that will stop a sniper rifle bullet from this close. He has t—What the heck is that?
Terrified as he was for the lives of his dad, his pack, and even himself, the wolf in him was alert to everything. Even the tiny creak of a particular floorboard in the hallway to his right. Focusing his hearing, he realized he’d been so distracted by his dad at the front door that he completely missed someone sneaking into the house from the back door. That same someone who was slowly creeping down the hallway from the back porch.
Did dad call one of his deputies for backup? Or did one of the wannabe-hunters wake up. No, they were tied up.
Whoever it was, Stiles had never met them before and didn’t recognize their heartbeat. Glancing over, he noticed that Derek had stopped struggling with his ropes in an effort to better listen to what was happening. Peter still his features schooled into an emotionless expression but his eyes were glowing just the slightest bit. When Stiles locked gazes with him, he saw Peter flick his eyes to the hallway entrance and then back to him. Then Peter nodded ever so slightly.
Stiles understood. His dad was the distraction and the man making his way up the hall had to be Peter’s mysterious ally.
All at once it felt like time seemed to slow down and speed up simultaneously. There was a sound of a gun going off, wood blasting apart, and a shriek of pain coming from the direction of the front door. Stiles didn’t even have time to worry that his dad might have been shot because at that moment, Peter’s mystery ally rounded the corner into the living room, gun pointed at Gerard. The mystery man looked a little familiar in an obscure way. Gerard must have recognized him though, because his grip on Stiles’ arm loosened just a fraction, in surprise. It was enough for Stiles to be able to break out of Gerard’s grasp just enough to avoid a bullet to the brain.
There was a loud blast right next to his ear and then a deafening ringing sound. Stiles vaguely heard muffled gunshots and Peter roaring as he rushed past him, tackling Gerard to the ground but it all sounded so far away. Suddenly, he was a lot lest steady on his feet. He fell to the ground but was able to crawl over to Derek. Ignoring the painful burning sensations, he clawed through the ropes keeping Derek immobile.
As soon as Derek was free he immediately enveloped Stiles in his arms and dragged him away from the commotion and behind the couch. He could see Derek’s mouth moving but noting he said was registering through the high-pitched ringing in his ears.
“iles”
“Stiles”
“STILES!”
“I’m okay!” he said, clutching his ear as noise started to flood his hearing. Like a bubble bursting his hearing was suddenly back to normal.
Thank you werewolf healing.
“My dad!” Stiles yelled, trying to jump up and find him, only to be stopped by Derek’s arms wrapped tight around him.
“He’s fine,” Derek said, trying to hold Stiles still. “Stiles, he’s fine. Laura has him.”
“But the gunshots and—”
“Your dad was the one that fired,” Derek assured. “He fired through the front door. The bullet missed but it was enough of a distraction for Laura to knock the hunter out.”
“Gerard?”
“Peter has him,” Derek snarled.
Once he realized that everyone was okay, he calmed down enough so that Derek let them both get up.
Peter and his mystery ally were standing in the middle of the living room, guarding over an unconscious but still very alive Gerard, having a murmured conversation. Stiles didn’t even bother trying to listen in because at that moment a very pissed off Laura entered the living room, followed by his dad carrying an unconscious Liam. His dad wasn’t even two steps into the living room before he was flinging his arms around him, squeezing him tight. Liam’s body dropped to the floor with a thud but no one cared.
“Don’t you ever do something like that again, kiddo,” his dad berated, returning Stiles embrace with equal enthusiasm. “Next time—and I hope there never is a next time—you call me and we go in together, you understand.”
“Loud and clear,” he agreed, nuzzling into his dad’s neck and breathing in the comforting scent.
“You were pretty awesome, coming up with that story about the winds shifting and the toxicity levels rising, right on the spot like that,”
“Where do you think you inherited your ability to lie?” his dad smirked. “Because, it certainly wasn’t from your mother’s side of the family.”
He would have been content to stay like that for hours but their perfect Hallmark moment was interrupted by two ferocious growls.
“What’s he doing here?” Laura growled. Stiles tore himself away from his dad to see Laura glaring at the man standing with Peter, her claws out and ready to attack. Derek too had his claws out and moved so that he was standing in front of Stiles.
“Saving your life,” Peter’s mystery ally said confidently.
“Who is he?” Stiles asked perplexed, pushing his way forward despite Derek’s growl of warning.
“Chris Argent,” Derek gritted out. “Brother of Kate Argent and son of Gerard Argent.”
Stiles immediately moved so that he was standing slightly in front of his dad, ready to defend him.
“And my contact among the hunters,” Peter added.
What! Peter would never work with hunter. Especially not an Argent.
“You’ve been working with him,” Laura accused.
“I called in a favor,” Peter clarified. “Chris is one of the few hunters left that actually follow the code” Chris scowled at that but kept quiet “and he owes our family a debt for what happened with Kate. I’m simply collecting on that debt.”
Now that there wasn’t gunshots and carnage happening all around him, he was able to really get a good look at Chris Argent. He was around his dad’s age with close-cropped light brown hair peppered with grey. His eyes were hard grey and he had a face that looked like its default setting was disapproval. He was good looking in a DILF kind of way. He had muscles but they weren’t as pronounced as Derek’s. In a bizarre way, Chris reminded him of his dad. They both had that calm air of assurance and authority that only years of experience and responsibility could bring.
This is what a hunter is supposed to look like.
“How do we know he wasn’t a part of this from the beginning,” Laura speculated. “It’s his father after all.”
“I didn’t even know it was my father until I came into the room,” Chris denied. “Nor would I have been, if I’d known. What my father was attempting to do here goes against everything that I stand for.”
“And if he had been, then he wouldn’t have helped me rescue you,” His dad spoke up. “He would have just shot me in the woods and walked right in.”
“You knew about him being here too,” Stiles accused, whipping around to face his dad.
“Peter told me that he was talking with him, when he first told me about the hunters being in town,” his dad admitted. “He said if anything happened I should call Chris. Then you never showed up, after you texted me, so I made a call.”
“I was already on my way because Peter hadn’t checked in either,” Chris added. “So we met up down the road from the house and came up with a way to get inside.”
“Why didn’t tell us?” Laura asked, a sense of betrayal shining in her eyes but at least she and Derek had put their claws away.
“Because I knew you would react this way,” Peter said. “I made a decision as Alpha, and it turned out to be the right one.”
The room was tense as Laura and Peter glared at each other. Finally, Laura looked away.
“So, the old guy is your dad but who are the other two?” Stiles asked as a way to dispel some of the awkwardness.
“That one is Mason Hall and the other is Liam Wright,” Chris observed as he pointed first to the hunter at the foot of the stairs and then to the one his dad had dropped by the door. “They were thrown out of our clan, when they started ignoring orders and bent the rules of the Code one time too many.”
“So, you’re saying that they were murdering innocent people, just because they were werewolves, and instead of turning them over to the police, you just sent them off on their own to wreak havoc,” Laura accused.
“We never had definitive proof and without the support of one of the main hunter families, they wouldn’t have been much of a threat,” Chris said defensively. “A lone hunter isn’t much of a match against a werewolf. That’s why we work in teams and network with each other.”
“Except, it seems they weren’t as cut off as you thought,” Peter pointed out.
“We’ve suspected that my father has been working on his own agenda ever since Kate,” Chris admitted. “This must have been what he was working toward. It certainly didn’t have Victoria’s approval.”
“Victoria?” his dad questioned.
“My wife,” Chris stated.
“Yes, you see, some hunter families have what you would consider a matriarchal oversight committee,” Peter explained. “While the men are generally the ones who go out and get their hands dirty, the women are, theoretically, the ones that have the final say on whether or not to kill their targets.”
“It’s helped my family keep their moral compass,” Chris agreed.
“Yes, because your family thinks it’s so enlightened,” Laura snorted. “Werewolves were putting their trust in female Alphas long before your family decided to become a matriarchy. And it’s not like the women of you family have such a sterling history of clear judgment and mercy.”
“Kate was never one of the decision makers of our family,” Chris argued. “Whatever you may think about us, we did recognize that she wasn’t qualified to lead us.”
“That didn’t stop her from trying to burn down our home and killing our parents,” Derek growled.
“I can’t change the past,” Chris said stonily.
“What’s gonna happens now?” Stiles asked before another awkward silence could settle in.
“Now, I arrest these three for attempted murder,” his dad said matter-of-factly.
“I can’t let you do that,” Chris said, taking a step forward, putting himself between Peter and Gerard. “This is a hunter issue; we need to deal with it ourselves.”
“Figures,” Laura scoffed under her breath. “They try and kill us for now reason but because we’re the monsters you want to let them off with a slap on the wrist.”
“Last time I checked, ‘hunters’ don’t have any legal jurisdiction in Beacon Hills,” his dad said in his Sheriff voice.
“Last time I checked, a Sheriff’s jurisdiction didn’t cover werewolves,” Chris countered.
“No but it covers homicide,” his dad said. “Human or werewolf, murder is murder.”
“They will be punished for what they did,” Chris assured. “But I need to know how far my father’s influence has spread through our ranks and I need to question these two.”
“And Gerard?” Peter inquires pointedly.
“He’ll answer for his crimes,” Chris stated simply.
“But not nearly as much as he would if he were arrested,” Stiles put in. “What’re you gonna do, put him in a nursing home and take away his gun range privileges.”
“Not even that,” Derek said. “Since you and your family don’t even consider killing us to be a crime. The only thing he’ll really be in trouble for is wanting the bite.”
“That’s not true,” Chris denied. “We follow our code and hunt those who hunt us. The situation is just complicated. I can’t allow another member of my family to die by your family’s hands. It could start a war.”
“We didn’t kill Kate,” Laura said. “Even though we wanted to. Even though we had that right. Instead, we turned her over to human justice. It was a human jury that found her guilty and the human justice system that will execute her, when the time comes. We did what was right, but your kind will never see us as anything other than beasts.”
“It doesn’t matter either way,” Peter interrupted.
“Doesn’t matter!” Laura growled.
“His cancer is even further along that I thought it was,” Peter explained, sniffing the air. “I can smell the sickness in every cell of his body. Even with treatment, I’d be greatly surprised if he lives passed the next two weeks, let alone the next month.”
Now that Peter mentioned it, Gerard did smell disgusting. The scent of chemicals and sickness and a few other things that Stiles couldn’t even begin to describe had completely washed out whatever normal human scent Gerard might have once had.
“He’d never spend a day in jail,” his dad confirmed. “They’d have him out on bail and or claim that he wasn’t fit to stand trial.”
“So, after everything he’s done, he gets to die a free man and in the comfort of his own home,” Laura sneered.
“Not free, just not in an official prison. If it’s any consolation, it won’t feel like he won to him,” Chris said. “I know my father; he’ll spend his last days raging at his failed plans. Being back home will only enrage him more, because it means that he couldn’t die fighting.”
“It’s not,” Derek grunted, crossing his arms.
Stiles had to agree.
“I think you should take them and go,” Peter suggested. “The sooner they’re out of our home the better.”
“My truck is just down the road,” Chris said hesitantly, eyes darting back and forth between his father on the ground and the four angry werewolves in the room.
Peter just rolled his eyes.
“If we were going to kill him, do you really think we would have to wait for you to leave the room?” Peter asked sarcastically.
Chris wisely didn’t answer but he still didn’t move. At first, Stiles thought he was being ridiculous but then he realized, if the situation were reversed, he wouldn’t leave his dad alone with a group of hunters either.
“I’ll watch over him,” his dad volunteered. “I should start handcuffing them all as well.”
“Sheriff,” Chris nodded his head in agreement then headed towards the front door.
While he was gone, Derek and Laura gathered up the other two hunters and tossed them next to Gerard. Then they searched them for any hidden weapons or lock picks. They found ten knives and three smaller guns combined on the three hunters and left them all on the living room table. Peter discreetly pocketed the vials of altered wolfsbane for later study.
As they were working, Stiles tried to make a few jokes to lighten the mood but they all fell flat.
They wanted to tie the hunters up in case they came to but his dad only had one pair of and cuffs. Then Peter remembered that there were some zip ties in the kitchen. Chris returned just as they finished zip tying Gerard.
They loaded the hunters and all their weapons into the back of Chris’s truck in silence. Once that was done, Laura, Derek, and Stiles retreated to the house to get away from the smoke. Peter and his dad stayed to have a few words with Chris. Stiles could hear their conversation perfectly but it wasn’t that interesting, just Chris promising that the hunters would be punished and Peter and his dad not really believing it.
When Peter and his dad went back into the house, they all decided to clean up a little. Some of the damage was easily fixable, like sweeping up the remains of broken glass from a lamp that had been knocked over or swipe blood off the hardwood floor, but some things would need more work. They definitely needed a new front door and some plaster for the bullet holes in the walls but that would have to wait for tomorrow, when the hardware store opened.
His dad gratefully took Peter up on his offer to stay the night. None of them felt like being alone that night, so they grabbed a bunch of pillows, blankets, and even Laura’s mattress and moved it into Peter’s room. Normally they would have all slept in the living room but, after what happened in there tonight, it would be a while before they would feel totally at ease in that room.
Stiles just wanted to curl up in a big puppy pile with his pack, preferably next to Derek, but something nagged at the back of his mind. He’d just found a comfy spot, when he realized what they’d forgotten.
“Shit!” he exclaimed. “Are those three idiots still tied up in the back yard?”
The three idiots were still tied up in the back yard and they were still knocked out. His dad called in an ambulance for them, so they could be treated for aconite poisoning and slight smoke inhalation. The hospital assured them that they would be fine. They might wish otherwise, when they wake up in the morning, to find that their parents had been called and all three of them were being charged with trespassing, harassment, and—in Shane’s case—assault.
His dad had already taken a statement from Peter stating that the three of them had been following them and had tried to break into their house. That explained away the damage to the front door. Peter had gone on to say how Dave and Chad had wanted to leave but Shane had attacked him but he and Derek managed to subdue them. His dad also got the ball rolling on the paper work for a restraining order against Shane and Peter planed on sending word to other packs warning them about him, as well as telling them about the new strains of wolfsbane the hunters were developing.
The sun was rising by the time they finally got to sleep.
They slept well into the afternoon, getting up only when the growling of their stomachs became too loud to ignore. Once again, he woke up tangled in Derek’s arms. Only this time, it wasn’t as awkward because they also tangled up with Laura, Peter, and his dad. Stiles had seriously never imagined a situation where waking up in with his dad, someone he thought of as a sister, and someone he thought of as an uncle would make waking up with the guy he was in love with less awkward but that was being a werewolf for you.
They went downstairs to make some breakfast, avoiding the living room as much as they could. As they settled in to eat, the shock and jumpiness from last night seemed to ease. Everyone seemed to let out a sigh of relief. They were all safe and together and content. Stiles was so wrapped up in his feelings of contentment and peace that his dad’s next words threw him for a loop.
“So kiddo, when do you have to leave?” his dad asked.
“What?” he asked bewildered.
Why would I ever leave?
“Well, you said you have class tomorrow,” his dad offered by way of explanation. “You’ll have to hit the road pretty soon, if you want to make it back to Berkeley as a decent hour.”
He felt his entire body slump in disappointment. He’d completely forgotten that he was just home for the weekend. It had only been four days but it felt like a lifetime ago.
“I could always stay for a more few days, to make sure that everything is safe,” Stiles offered. “I’ve got A’s in all my classes and perfect attendance, so a few missed classes won’t kill me. If you guys needed me here.”
“We’ll always need you here, Stiles,” Peter said. Stiles felt his heart swell at that. “But you shouldn’t neglect your school work. We’ll be fine, now that the hunters are gone.”
Stiles looked around the table, hoping that someone would speak up with a reason for him to stay. No one did.
“Yeah, I guess I should get my clothes from home and head out soon then,” Stiles said.
“Brought all you laundry home, like a good college stereotype,” Laura teased and Stiles had to crack a smile.
Of course, then his dad had to embarrass him by telling them about his clothes scenting idea. He thought that Laura would tease him for it but instead she just looked thoughtful.
“It must be really hard being so far away from the pack,” she said softly.
“I should have considered something like that before you left,” Peter admonished himself.
After that, they finished eating quickly. His dad left right after eating because he needed to be at the station for a night shift. Stiles would have hitched a ride with him to pick up his jeep but Peter asked him to stay. He disappeared upstairs and came back with a couple of pillow cases and a sheet. They were the ones that they had all slept on last night and were saturated with the scent of pack. Stiles already wanted to roll around in them and he hadn’t even left yet.
Laura had the smart idea of sealing them up in a plastic bag so that the smoke outside didn’t cover up their scent. Then walked him outside, where she gave him a bone crushing hug and ruffled his hair. The wind must have shifted because the smoke wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been last night.
“Stay safe,” she ordered. “And we’re upping the weekly calls home to biweekly calls home, got it.”
“Yes ma’am,” he mock saluted.
“I’ll walk with you to your jeep,” Derek offered, as he grabbed the bag with the pillow cases and sheet.
“Yeah, okay,” Stiles agreed.
“Stiles, could I have a word before you leave,” Peter requested from his spot on the porch.
“Sure,” Stiles agreed.
He jogged back up to where Peter was standing. Peter gave Derek and Laura a look and they politely turned their attention to something else.
“What’s up?” Stiles asked a little apprehensively.
“There’s just something I wanted to discuss with you that I haven’t had the chance to,” Peter said. “About last night, when Gerard was threatening to shoot you…”
“Peter, I know you would have never let him kill me,” Stiles said instantly. “You were just stalling for as much time as possible.”
Peter looked at once relieved and surprised.
“I knew that Chris at least was on the way and even seconds could have made a difference.”
“I get that,” Stiles told him.
“But I would never let anything happen to you, Stiles,” Peter said earnestly. “You’re pack. You’re family.”
“I know,” Stiles said happily and Peter pulled him into a hug.
“And don’t keep things so bottled up,” Peter whispered into his hair. “If you’re having any kind of trouble, call us. That’s what pack is for.”
“I will,” Stiles promised and stepped back.
“We’ll see you again real soon,” Laura said, as she came up behind him and gave him another quick hug.
“I’ll hold you to that,” Stiles replied.
Derek was waiting for him by the tree line. They fell into a companionable silence as they made their way to the Preserve’s parking lot. Stiles was intentionally walking slower than he normally would, in an effort to prolong his time with Derek. He really wanted to talk about what happened between them during Derek’s heat but he didn’t know how to bring it up.
Ha! Actually, I do know how to bring it up! He thought smuggly.
“We should visit you,” Derek’s voice broke through his thoughts.
“What?”
“Laura and I. Maybe we can come up and visit you at Berkeley next month,” Derek offered. “We could bring up some more sheets and stuff.”
“Sounds great,” Stiles agreed energetically.
They stopped right next to Stiles’ jeep and just kind of stared at each other for a minute. He really needed to say something, and he got the feeling that Derek did too, but he just did know how.
“Derek—”
“Stiles—”
He laughed nervously and bit his lip.
“You go first,” Derek said.
“No, it’s nothing,” Stiles said. “It’s just…We’re okay, right? I mean you and me; we’re good and everything, right?”
“Yeah, we’re good,” Derek agreed after a minute.
“Okay,” Stiles sighed. “What were you gonna say?”
“The same thing you did,” Derek admitted.
“Oh, well good. We’re on the same page.”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.”
They were staring at each other again but Stiles couldn’t bring himself to care.
“I should probably…” he gestured vaguely to the Jeep behind him.
“Right,” Derek agreed.
“So, I’ll see you later.”
“Later,” Derek agreed
Then Stiles climbed up into his Jeep and made his way to his dad’s house. Once he was there, he threw his stuff into his bag and made himself some sandwiches for the road. He’d probably still stop and get something from a drive-thru but he saved a little money this way.
He debated about lingering for a little while longer but it was a long drive back to Berkeley. That didn’t stop him from driving five miles under the speed limit out of town just so he could soak in the sights of home a little more. He was almost out of town, when something caught his eye. For a moment, Stiles though he saw a very familiar shape among the trees, as he drove past the ‘Welcome to Beacon Hills’ sign. If Stiles didn’t know any better, he could swear that Derek had followed him all the way to the town limits.
Probably just wishful thinking.