Archive of Our Own ^beta

"Hello...?" He grunts, voice husky from sleep and annoyed from being awoken.

"Stiles...!"

Stiles immediately sits up, fully awake, because this is Scott, and Scott is sobbing and crying and his voice is panicked, and Stiles is going to kill whoever caused this. Because Scott is his best friend, and Stiles is supposed to take care of his best friend.

"Scott?" He snaps, frustration and concern masking his voice, and his lips curl in anger when he hears Scott sob again.

"Stiles, I-... I think... I killed her, Stiles, she's dead, she's dead!"

"What?" Stiles furrows his brows, anger seeping out of him, because now he's confused. Somebody didn't hurt Scott, but Scott's crying anyway, and Stiles doesn't quite get it.

"I... Allison, I-... We were in the bus, and I just, I just went crazy, Stiles, and I think I killed her, I think I-"

"Scott," Stiles interrupts, voice firm as he stands from his bed, because now he understands; understands that Scott had some kind of nightmare and now he's scared, but not hurt, "It's fine, alright? It was just a nightmare."

Scott's breath hitches in the phone, and Stiles sighs as he slides his feet into his slippers and snatches the keys to his jeep from his desk, "Everything's fine, Scott. There's no way you would attack Allison; not after all the practice we did, right?"

"I guess not," Scott murmurs, but his voice is still swollen and thick from tears, and Stiles smiles patiently as he sneaks his way downstairs. His father didn't get home until twelve this morning, so Stiles is not worried about waking him, but he still doesn't want to take chances, so he moves quietly and quickly.

"It's probably just all the stress," Stiles soothes as he hops into his jeep and slides the keys into the ignition, "Getting turned into a werewolf has to be a little stressful, Scott."

"...Are you getting in your jeep?"

"Yes."

"...Stiles...?"

"It's fine, Scott, I'm just coming over, okay," Stiles murmurs as he pulls into the road and drives towards Scott's house, "And you know better than to try and argue."

Scott huffs out a shaky laugh, sounding much calmer than before, but Stiles doesn't hang up as he continues driving, because this is Scott and Scott is his best friend, and Stiles is meant to comfort Scott when Scott is hurt or scared. It's not until he pulls into Scott's driveway that he hangs up, grabbing his keys before exciting the jeep and climbing the tree conveniently placed by Scott's window. Scott opens it up for him, and Stiles cringes at the sight of a shirtless, pantless Scott covered in thick layers of sweat and tears.

"What the hell, Scott?" Stiles snaps, marching into the bathroom to grab a towel. He quickly wets it before bringing it back out to Scott, the alpha boy sitting on the edge of the bed, looking to be in shock or worse, and Stiles roughly pats him down with the cold towel to snap him out of it.

"I don't know..." Scott murmurs, jerking a little at Stiles' rough movements before grabbing the towel to do it himself, "I just woke up like this..."

"Must've been a hell of a nightmare," Stiles murmurs, walking around the bed and climbing in on the left side. Scott watches him for a moment before he finishes cleaning off all the sweat and tossing the towel into the hamper next to his closet. He climbs into the right side, looking uncomfortable and nervous. He and Stiles have done this before, shared beds and space and everything else, but Scott has just had a nightmare about attacking a girl he cares for, and what if he attacks Stiles, too? He couldn't ever look Stiles in the back of the head again if he were to ever hurt him.

"Scott," Stiles' voice is firm, annoyed and soothing all at once, and Scott snorts before relaxing into his side of the bed and taking in Stiles' scent, a combination of strawberries and raspberries and watermelon, and a hint of mint; there's something else in his scent, too, something he never noticed before he became wolf, and it helps Scott calm down. It smells like thunderstorms and power. He's never smelled an omega with a scent quite like Stiles' before and it's soothing, because Stiles is his best friend and Stiles always looks out for him; like that time he had a bad asthma attack in middle school and some kid stole his inhaler, and Stiles made that kid cry, sobbing ugly tears, with nothing but his words and a dark smile before snatching Scott's inhaler back and taking care of him when it didn't calm him down right away.

Stiles takes care of him, and if Stiles says everything is okay, then Scott will believe him.

Stiles was wrong, and everything is not okay.

Scott breaths out huffed and panting breaths; his vision is hazy and red pulls at the edges. He feels like he's having a panic attack or a he's in a pre-rut or he's shifting, and his gaze snaps left and right as he speeds through the hallways. He needs to find Allison. He needs to make sure she's okay. Because his dream wasn't a dream and the school bus is torn apart and blood is leaking out of the sides, and Allison needs to be okay.

"Scott," Stiles snaps, slapping his shoulder, and Scott's breaths stutter to a stop in surprise, "You need to calm down. If you shift in public, I will let Derek smack you around, understand? Allison is fine. She is fine, Scott. Stop shifting."

Stiles' firm and vaguely threatening voice forces Scott's breath back out, calmer and steadier, and the red recedes from his vision. He is no longer hot, and he glances at Stiles; the omega roughly jerks his head to the side, and Scott follows the movement, and there is Allison, sifting through her books and calmly making her way through the halls without a care in the world. Scott feels a sigh of relief burst from his lips, and he rushes toward her, not caring that he startles her.

"Allison," He breathes happily, and she grins back.

"Hey," She laughs a little, "You scared me a little."

"You're okay..." He murmurs, and he unconsciously checks her over for any injuries or scars or whatever that would make him howl with grief and rage.

"Well, as soon as my heart starts beating again," She grins. And suddenly, her brows furrow and confusion enters her eyes. Scott follows her line of vision, brows shooting up in surprise when he sees Jackson looking over his locker in confusion; the same locker he may or may not have punched open during his panic.

"What... happened to Jackson's locker...?" Allison's voice is a mask of confusion, and when she glances at Stiles, she only sees the omega grinning, like he's holding back a laugh.

Stiles shrugs, grin morphing into a smirk.

Stiles watches the flask boil with disinterest before glancing to the side and smirking, because he and Jackson just happened to share seats in chemistry, and the alpha boy looks irritated and confused all at once, and Stiles knows the guy hasn't gotten over his locker. His eyes shift forward when Scott is suddenly twisting around, features tight with worry and confusion and a hint of fear.

"Maybe it was my blood on the bus," Scott whispers, glancing around in case anyone's listening before he turns his attention back to Stiles.

"It could've been animal blood, too, Scott," Stiles murmurs, cutting his eyes toward Jackson for a brief moment before looking back at Scott. Because Stiles knows things, and he notices things that others don't, and he knows that Jackson is secretly smart, not a genius like Lydia, but smart enough to keep up with her, and Stiles knows that Jackson will attempt to put the pieces together. Because Jackson is smart and he won't believe that the asthmatic kid that could barely run two feet without having to suck on his inhaler is suddenly good enough to earn first line, and Jackson will want to know what's happening because Jackson likes to solve mysteries and he likes to help Lydia solve mysteries, too. But, Jackson is not looking at them and doesn't appear to be listening, his attention focused solely on his chemistry notes, jotting down more, and Stiles is satisfied that he and Scott can have this conversation here and now.

"And what, I caught a rabbit or something?" Scott grumbles with frustration, "And did what?"

"Maybe you ate it," Stiles grins, voice dark, but teasing, but Scott only looks horrified at his words.

"Raw?" He breathes, voice terrified.

Stiles smirks at him, and it's almost a mean smile, but not quite, "No, you stopped to bake it in a little werewolf oven."

Scott glowers at him, but Stiles merely continues smirking. He glances at Jackson again, and his smirk slowly fades when he sees the boy staring intently at Scott. Jackson's face is calculating and sharp, a contrast to the usual jock persona he runs around with, and when Jackson glances at Stiles, his eyes narrow and his gaze sharpens even further. Stiles holds his gaze until Jackson looks back down at his notes, the sharp, thoughtful look never fading, and Stiles hopes and hopes, but he's not stupid enough to believe that Jackson didn't hear a word of that conversation.

And Stiles knows that, that's going to come back to bite them later.

And when Macy is shouting about the police finding something, and the whole class is looking out the window to see a man covered in bruises and gashes and so much blood, screaming and panicking, Stiles is quick to notice how Jackson's gaze slowly turns from the man in the bus to Scott, sharp and calculating and almost knowing, and Stiles wonders how he's going to fix this problem.

Stiles ignores the glances he gets as he follows Scott through the lunch line. Because Stiles is an omega, the sheriff's son at that, and he's wearing his alpha friend's clothes. Because Stiles had panicked so much when Scott called and he didn't think to grab his own clothes, so now he's stuck wearing Scott's for the day, no time to drive back home to get his own before school, and now he's practically saturated in Scott's alpha scent. He doesn't care, though, simply shoots a grin at the two omega girls talking a little too loudly about it; they have the good sense to look embarrassed and quickly scamper away to find a table.

"Dreams aren't memories, Scott," Stiles states as they take their seat at an empty table, "Contrary to popular belief, you can't dream about a memory. Memories have no place in dreams."

"Okay, but, Stiles," Scott's voice is hushed and a little panicked, "It happened. I dreamed about attacking Allison on that bus - and now someone is in the hospital because of it. Even the bus numbers are the same. The only real difference I see is the person who was attacked."

"Then go talk to Derek," Stiles states, shrugging and grabbing his water bottle, "He's a born wolf; he should know exactly how to help you out."

Scott looks completely appalled, and a little scared, and it makes Stiles stifle a laugh, "Derek? Stiles, you got him arrested for murder; for murdering his sister, which announced him being here to the Hunters. Do you really think he'll help me?"

"Yes," Stiles states immediately, as if it were fact, and Scott looks a little surprised, but he doesn't know about Derek bringing him a present - the blue wolfsbane still sitting on his dresser in the middle of his room where he can see it from everywhere - so Stiles doesn't mind. Because Scott doesn't know that Derek apologized and that he promised to not hurt Scott anymore, and Scott doesn't know that Derek told him that he'd help Scott if need be out on the lacrosse field during practice. And Scott doesn't need to know, because Stiles liked those things that Derek did for him and he wants to keep them as his.

"Well, okay..." Scott relents, sounding as if he were dreading the already decided upcoming meeting with his fellow werewolf, "But, what if-"

"Scott," Stiles interrupts, voice firm, but drawling, "It's fine. Derek will help us, and we'll figure it all out together."

"Figure what out?" 

The two glance over in surprise as Lydia takes a seat next to Scott, popping a single shoulder haughtily as she looks them over; but, Stiles can see her observing them closely, calculatingly, and he thinks she's attempting to figure out their game, just like Jackson, so Stiles merely smiles at her before frowning at Scott.

"Why is she here?" He whispers, not really caring that Lydia can clearly hear him and ignoring the pointed look she shoots him, and Scott shrugs, face filled with apprehension and confusion, but then they're being surrounded, a boy Stiles vaguely recognizes taking a seat at the head of the table between Stiles and Lydia, Danny sitting on one side and Pamela on the other. Then Allison shows up, and Stiles resists the urge to roll his eyes at the sappy look she and Scott give one another.

Stiles cuts his eyes to Danny, and he smirks when he catches the alpha's eyes. Danny rolls his a little, but gives Stiles a small grin before turning his attention to the others.

"Move."

Stiles glances up at Jackson, the alpha boy's voice gruff and commanding and alpha-like. Stiles smirks in amusement when the beta sitting in his seat next to his girlfriend tries to resist before quickly scampering off at the pointed glare on Jackson's face. Say what you want about Jackson, but Stiles knows that he's protective of those he cares about, and he knows that the beta that tried to sit with Lydia has harassed her for dates and for her number and for just a single night, and Stiles knows that Jackson won't tolerate anyone that makes Lydia uncomfortable or scared or upset. Because Jackson's secretly a good guy, and Stiles knows it, so he doesn't call Jackson out for his posturing or for the mask he wears.

"So, I hear they're saying it's some type of animal attack," Danny says, and Stiles watches as Jackson's sharp eyes cut to Scott for a brief moment before settling on Stiles. Stiles allows himself to smirk a little, his mind quickly going over the pros and cons of Jackson discovering the truth, and Jackson's eyes narrow, "Maybe a cougar?"

"I heard mountain lion," Jackson shrugs, keeping his eyes on Stiles.

"A cougar is a mountain lion," Lydia mumbles, voice a weird combination of snappish and distracted. Jackson glances at her, and Stiles can see the way the alpha's lips twitch with amusement. Because Jackson is secretly smart and he's secretly nice, and he likes Lydia and he likes that she's smart, and Stiles knows that Lydia pretending to be dull-headed is a source of entertainment for Jackson.

Lydia catches her boyfriend's amused eyes, and the alpha girl glances around nervously before furrowing her brows in confusion, "Isn't it?"

Jackson snorts before turning his attention back to the rest of the table, shrugging, "Who cares? It's probably some homeless tweaker who would've died anyway."

Of course, Stiles has to prove him wrong, because that's what Stiles does, bringing up a news video, taking note of his dad in the background, that named the victim and his status. Garrison Myers, alive, but barely, resting in the hospital. They think it may have been an animal attack, but are ruling nothing out. Then Scott makes a comment about Myers being his old bus driver, and Stiles' eyes narrow; if Scott really did lose control, why would his wolf-self be attracted to his old bus driver? What would the point of that be? It makes absolutely no sense.

But, then again, Scott is forgetting one fine detail.

It could've been the Alpha.

"Can we talk about something slightly more fun please," Lydia snips before snapping her attention to Allison, grinning in a way that lets Stiles know that she is most definitely in on Jackson's plan to figure Stiles and Scott out, and Stiles feels his own lips twitch in amusement, "Like where we're going tomorrow night."

Allison glances up, chewing her food, and when she sees how serious Lydia is, she swallows thickly and blinks rapidly. Stiles thinks she actually looks a bit scared, and he understands; denying Lydia anything is impossible, and Lydia knows this, too, so she merely smiles at Allison, eyes sharp and calculating in a way most others never notice, "You said you and Scott were going out tomorrow night...?"

"Um..." Allison stammers, "We were thinking of what we were gonna do...."

Stiles grins just as Lydia smirks, catching the alpha girl sharing a glance with Jackson. "Well," She says, "I am not staying at home and watching more lacrosse videos-" Jackson snorts, and Stiles' grin widens as he sees the panicked look in Scott's eyes increase- "So if we are going out, we're doing something fun."

"You want to hang out?" Scott stutters, glowering at Stiles when the omega snickers, "Like, us and them? The four of us? You want to hang out?"

Allison must catch onto his panic, because she gives him a nervous smile, eyes flickering between him, and Lydia and Jackson, "I... I guess, it could be fun...."

"You know what else sounds fun?" Jackson grunts, flicking a fork into his hand, "Stabbing myself in the eye with this fork."

Stiles and Danny snort in unison, and Danny glances at him for a brief moment, sharing a smirk, before turning his attention back to his friends. Lydia, though, doesn't seem to find it as amusing, roughly snatching the fork from Jackson's fingers and shooting him an exasperated look.

"What about bowling?" She tries, "You love to bowl."

Jackson snorts, "With actual competition."

Allison's eyes narrow, and Stiles snickers once more, "How do you know we're not actual competition?"

She glances at Scott, eyes briefly flickering toward Stiles when he snorts, "You can bowl, right?"

"S-...Sort of..." Scott stammers, shooting Stiles a glare, but the omega merely grins at him. This is your mess.

"Is it, is sort of?" Jackson goads, leaning forward and narrowing his eyes at Scott; Scott takes it as a challenge, but Stiles can see the sharp look in Jackson's eyes as he looks Scott over, and Stiles once again goes over the pros and cons of having Lydia and Jackson in the know, and he thinks that, maybe, the pros could outweigh the cons, "Or yes?"

"Yes," Scott growls, and Stiles glances at Allison when the beta girl shifts uncomfortably at all the alpha hormones filling the air, and it makes him wonder, for only a split second, why he, an omega, never really reacts in such a way, "In fact, I'm a great bowler."

Stiles snickers again.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Scott asks, for the fifthtenthtwentieth time, and Stiles is going to smack him if he asks once more. 

"Yes, Scott," Stiles grounds out, voice a bit snappish as he guides the jeep through the terrain of the Preserve and parks it in front of the debilitated Hale house, "You told me what Deaton said; that wolves have long-term memories. And from what you told me about your nightmare and how it compared to what Deaton said about wolves and their prey, werewolves' instincts aren't so different from real wolves. So, maybe, werewolves have long-term memories, too, and, maybe, Derek can teach you how to remember."

"Yeah, but..."

"Scott," Stiles snaps, "Get out of the jeep."

Derek is already opening the door as they make their way over, and Stiles knows that he was able to hear their entire conversation. Derek watches Stiles, and Stiles watches him back, until the older alpha's attention snaps to Scott, not wasting any time.

"You think you killed the driver?" He asks, voice surprisingly soft.

Scott hesitates for a moment before Stiles smacks his shoulder, jolting him into action, "I... I had a dream about... someone... but someone else got hurt, and it turns out that part of the dream might have actually happened."

Derek raises a brow at the barely discernible sentence, and his eyes shift over to Stiles. Stiles grins at him, amused, because Scott always fumbles when he gets nervous, and it makes Stiles laugh.

"Scott," Stiles states, sparing Scott a quick glance before looking back at Derek, uncaring if Scott would prefer to keep Allison's name out of it, "Had a nightmare about losing control and attacking Allison. Today, we found out about the bus driver, and Scott says that the wreckage matches the one in his dream. Dreams aren't memories, and, even if they were, he would've been dreaming about the driver, not Allison, right?"

"Right," Derek nods, turning his attention to Scott, "You remember nothing from last night?"

Scott seems to take his tone the wrong way, and his voice becomes snappish, "Did you see what I did last night?"

Derek rolls his eyes, and Stiles snorts, "No."

"Well," Scott stammers, "Can you at least tell me the truth? Can I hurt someone?"

"Yes," Derek shrugs, like it's fact, like there's no question about it, like every newborn wolf in existence is going to lose control at least once, and Stiles rolls his eyes.

"Am I gonna hurt someone?"

"Yes."

"Can I kill someone?"

"Probably."

"You two," Stiles states, voice low and annoyed, and the two quickly turn their attention back to him at his tone, "Are forgetting one thing."

"What?" Derek shrugs in question, his own voice annoyed, and Stiles rolls his eyes again, because, holy shit, this person he likes can not be as slow as Scott; Stiles wouldn't be able to handle that, ever. He catches Derek's eyes with his own narrowed ones, shooting him a look that will let Derek know exactly how stupid he thinks that question was.

"The Alpha, dumbass," Stiles snorts, "What if it was the Alpha that did this?"

The two alphas in front of him pause, and Stiles rolls his eyes once more, realizing that the thought never even crossed their minds. Honestly, today, one of his bad days where everything pisses him off, is not the day for people to be stupid around him, and Scott should realize this with how often he's been snapping at him. 

"But, then..." Scott murmurs, "If it was the Alpha, why am I dreaming about it?"

"It Bit you," Stiles shrugs, "It's the one that Changed you, so maybe you're connected to it."

Stiles glances at Derek, catching the wolf's eye to confirm his statement, and Derek nods. He appears contemplative, and Stiles lets him think it over for a moment, knows that Derek is probably trying to figure out the Alpha's reasons for hunting and why Scott is sharing its memories.

"Yes," Derek states, "Alphas are connected to their Betas, and you're no exception to that. The Alpha probably dragged you out there to hunt for Pack bonding."

"Pack bonding?" Scott's voice is incredulous and frustrated, "Murdering someone together is Pack bonding?"

Derek closes his eyes, and Stiles grins when he realizes that Derek is taking in deep breaths to calm himself, obviously not appreciating Scott's disgusted tone about werewolf culture. Derek's eyes open once more, cutting to Scott, and the alpha boy flinches a little; Stiles doesn't say anything, because Scott is his best friend and Stiles is supposed to take care of him, but Stiles also knows that Scott needs to learn that there is a time and place for white knighting, and now is not one of them.

"Alphas tend to take their Pack out hunting," Derek states before rolling his eyes and glancing at Scott, voice a bit sarcastic before sobering up once more, "For animals. It's usually done for those who are new to shifting. Not only does it help them bond with their Alpha, but it also helps to teach them control. The Alpha we're dealing with is most likely feral, so hunting humans is something it really wouldn't have a problem with."

"Okay..." Stiles murmurs thoughtfully, "So maybe Scott was there because the Alpha drew him there for 'Pack bonding'."

He says the words in a blatantly mocking tone, smirking. Derek rolls his eyes at him, and Stiles' smirk morphs in a grin. The two glance over at Scott, and Stiles' grin melts into a worried frown, because Scott looks sick. Stiles would like to help him, but he doesn't know how; how is he supposed to help his friend move on from the fact that he may or may not have killed someone? Stiles knew this would happen, he knew it, knew that Scott would get himself sick from guilt and shame.

Derek must catch onto his worry, because he looks from Stiles to Scott and sighs. He steps closer to Scott, making sure the younger alpha catches his eye before speaking.

"Look," He states, "I can show you how to remember. I can show you how to control your instincts, your shift, even on a full moon. But, it's not going to come for free."

Scott glances up at him, brows furrowed in worry, "What do you want?"

His voice sounds so defeated, and Stiles cringes because this tone of voice means that he hasn't been doing a good job of taking care of Scott. They've practiced with the baseballs more, and it seemed to be working because he hasn't shifted yet, but Stiles knows it's only a temporary reprieve. Because Scott has attempted to shift during their practice, he just manages to catch himself, and Stiles knows that doesn't mean he has control, it just means he isn't going to kill Stiles or somebody else anytime soon. But, later, though....

"You'll find out," Derek murmurs quietly before speaking up, voice firm, "But, for now, what you need to do is go back to the bus. Go inside. See it, feel it. Let your senses, your sight, your smell, touch; let them remember for you."

"That's it...?" Scott mutters, voice still a bit glum, looking up at Derek earnestly, "Just... go back...?"

Derek raises his eyebrows, almost mockingly, but not quite, "Do you want to know what happened?"

"I just want to know if I hurt him..." Scott mumbles.

Derek snorts, "No. You want to know if you'll hurt her."

Scott purses his lips, glowering at Derek, though it is halfhearted at best and a bit distracted, before he sighs and hops off the porch. Stiles watches as he makes his way back to the jeep before he walks closer to Derek, stopping next to him.

He shoots Derek a smirks, "So, why wolfsbane?"

Derek stares at him for a long moment before his lips twitch, just a little, and he glances away before he speaks, "Wolfsbane is pretty to look at."

Stiles raises his brows, and Derek glances back at him pointedly, "But it can also kill me."

Stiles' smirk morphs into a grin, and he even laughs lightly for a small moment. He glances at Derek before holding up a hand, and Derek rolls his eyes but takes it anyway, holding on firmly as assists Stiles as the omega hops off of the porch. Stiles looks back at him as he makes his way to the jeep before looking forward, shaking his head in amusement. Derek, it seems, learned more than just his lesson after Stiles got him arrested.

At least Derek is smart.

"So," Stiles asks, "Did you remember?"

Scott wonders how it is that his friend can be so calm. He's still a little high on adrenaline, not only from the memory, but from nearly getting caught, but Stiles looks completely unphased, practically serene as he speeds down the road way over the speed limit.

"Yeah," Scott breaths, "Yeah, I was... I was there last night."

"And?" Stiles demands, "Did you kill him?"

"No, the blood," Scott mumbles, furrowing his brows as he goes over the memory, the scent of the blood hitting his nose heavily, "Some of it was mine."

Stiles' brows raise a bit before they lower, and he nods as if he expected the answer, "So, the Alpha did attack last night."

"Yeah, I think... I think I was actually trying to protect him from the Alpha," Scott says.

"If it drew you there, then it's obvious that Alphas can force compliance," Stiles states, "Kind of like human alphas using their pheromones to control the other genders."

"But... that's been illegal for so long, I think a lot of people actually forgot how to do it."

Stiles shoots him a look, "And? We're talking about werewolves, Scott, not humans. But, look, if you have enough control to break away from the Alpha, and even try and fight him off, then you can probably go out with Allison tonight."

Scott grins happily, but Stiles isn't finished, "But, listen to me, Scott, if I call you, you pick up. Do not ignore me with all this shit going on, understand."

Scott nods immediately, a seriousness in his eyes that assures Stiles that Scott will try and pick up as quickly as possible, as soon as he notices his phone. Stiles nods in satisfaction before stopping the jeep and allowing Scott to rush home to get ready for Allison. As he pulls out of the McCalls' yard, he begins thinking. He wants to know as much as he can about werewolves, and Derek seems to be more inclined to tell Stiles than Scott, and Stiles thinks it might be because Stiles is more likely to listen. As much as Stiles loves Scott, he knows the alpha boy has a bit of a hard head and only listens when things get a bit hectic. When it comes to Stiles, though, he always listens, without question, so Stiles believes that learning from Derek will be for the best, because Scott always listens to him and he'll take into account what Stiles has to say about werewolves and control. So, he immediately makes a U-turn, making his way back to the Preserve.

To his surprise, Derek already seemed to have plans of his own. The alpha was in the process of getting into his Camaro just as Stiles pulled up, though it seems, with his hearing, he knew Stiles was coming and paused for him. Stiles quirks a brow before turning off the ignition, jeep going dark. He removes himself from his car before making his way toward Derek. 

The alpha lifts his brows, "What?"

Stiles shrugs, hands in his jacket pockets, "Just wanted to talk some more. I figured Scott's more inclined to listen if it comes from me."

"Fair enough," Derek states, opening the door to the driver side of his Camaro. He glances at Stiles, lifting a brow at the omega, and Stiles grins at the blatant invitation, making his way around the car and settling into the passenger seat.

Derek starts the Camaro, making his way out of the Preserve.

"So," Stiles states, "Where are we going?"

"I need gas," Derek murmurs, "I've been putting it off all day to avoid the Hunters - thanks for that, by the way."

Stiles smirks, "At least you learned your lesson."

"Don't mess with your friends?" Derek lifts his brows mockingly, "Yeah, I think I got it."

"Hey," Stiles shrugs, chuckling a little, "It's your own fault. Learn to hold in that aggression a little, huh?"

"Yeah, yeah," Derek grumbles, rolling his eyes a little, and Stiles looks forward to see they have already made it out of the Preserve and onto the highway, "So, did Scott find out if he was the one to attack the driver?"

"Yeah, it wasn't him," Stiles shrugs again, "It was the Alpha. Which reminds me, the Alpha drew him there and it made me wonder, can Alphas force compliance in their Pack?"

Derek purses his lips, clearly uncomfortable with such a notion, "They can. But, it usually ends badly; forcing compliance usually indicates that the Pack is unstable, that the Alpha is incapable of leading, and it either draws in other Packs to fight for a claim over the territory, or some of the Pack members attempt to kill the Alpha to solve the problem."

"So..." Stiles murmurs, "There's politics involved, then? Is it anything like human politics?"

"Sort of," Derek's brows furrows as he thinks the question over, "In the sense that appearances need to be kept; don't undermine your Alpha in front of other Packs, show that you are well bonded with one another, and show that you have plenty of control over your shift. If any weakness is shown, then rival Packs have a right to challenge another's claim."

"Mm," Stiles nods, his own brows furrowing as he thinks over more questions, "What about... Pack hierarchy? That's got to be a thing, right?"

"Yeah," Derek states, blinking a little, and Stiles stifles a snort, "The head of the Pack is obviously the Alpha; they're meant to act as protectors and leaders, and, during political disputes, the negotiators. There's the Second, and their authority is only overruled by the Alpha, and even then, they're usually only meant to act during emergencies. The Third is in a similar position, just a rank lower. Then there's the Enforcer."

"Enforcer?" Stiles' brows raise, attention caught on the word.

"Yeah," Derek murmurs, "I mean, the honorable thing won't always work. You know, treaties, pacts, promises; they can be made, but they can also be broken. It's the Enforcer's job to do the dirty work should that ever happen; tie up loose ends, so to speak."

"Get rid of threats before they have a chance to actually become threats," Stiles mumbles, and Derek nods.

"Exactly. The Enforcer tends to be the strongest in the Pack," Derek states, looking thoughtful, "Maybe even stronger than the Alpha, depending on how you look at it. They also have to be loyal, because someone that strong could attempt to usurp power, but, um... that usually only happens if the Enforcer feels that the Alpha is making too much of a mess of things; you know, letting too many threats into their territory."

"Is that it?" Stiles wonders.

"Yeah, I mean," Derek shrugs, "Everyone else, they're just Betas; they follow the Second and Third's authority, they follow the Alpha's authority, and they're also meant to do as the Enforcer says if there's any problems that need to be dealt with."

"Okay..." Stiles glances back at the road, tilting his head when he realizes he's not quite sure where they are, surrounded by trees and road and nothing else but a gas station off to the side, before he glances back at Derek, "Derek."

"Hm?" Derek grunts, pulling the car into the station, parking next to one of the many empty pumps.

"Your sister," Stiles states, ignoring Derek's tensing, uncaring, "She could turn into a wolf; I mean, it was an impossibly huge wolf, granted, but it was still a wolf. Can all werewolves do that?"

Derek is silent for a long moment, and Stiles allows him to think it over. He understands; Derek is sore about his sister, probably his whole family, in the same way Stiles is sore about his mother. Stiles remembers, once, after she was gone and someone mentioned her, he had the police called on him for hurting that person. He put them in the hospital, he thinks, and then his dad got drunk again that night. Stiles thinks he might have disappointed him, but he also thinks his dad was more sad than anything.

"No..." Derek murmurs, gripping the steering wheel tightly, and Stiles wonders if Derek might accidentally break it, "No, it's rare. My mother could do it. My sister, too, obviously. But, um, no one else in the family could."

"Not even you?" Stiles asks softly, and Derek purses his lips thoughtfully for a moment before sighing through his nose, grip relaxing on the steering wheel.

"I was told..." Derek mumbles, "That I had the potential for it, but, um..."

"The fire happened," Stiles whispers, and Derek nods. Stiles gets it. Derek began learning how to shift into a wolf when the fire happened, and he stopped practicing afterwards. Because his mother was gone, his whole family was gone, and they were gone forever, and no one else deserved to teach him how.

"When my mother died..." Stiles murmurs, and Derek glances at him quickly in surprise, "Actually, even before she died. When she got sick, I stopped playing my guitar. She's the one who taught me, and I... no one else deserved to take her place as my teacher."

Derek nods, brows furrowed in a way that made him seem angry, but Stiles knows better. Stiles grins at him a little, and Derek huffs, but Stiles knows that the alpha is actually more amused at his sudden shift in expression than annoyed, and Derek removes himself from the Camaro. Stiles waits patiently as Derek fills the gas tank, but then he shifts in confusion when two vans pull into the lot, one in front of them and one behind them. Stiles twists around in his seat, watching as two men flank the car in the back; one of them catches his eye and smirk tauntingly, and Stiles snorts because it just looks ridiculous on the man's baby face, and he smirks back. The man is obviously taken aback at that and glares at him, but Stiles just rolls his eyes and turns back around in his seat, watching as Chris Argent steps out of his vehicle.

Stiles catches Derek's eye, the omega's whiskey eyes alight with curiosity, but Derek just shakes his head and removes the pump, placing it back on its stand. Chris glances at Stiles, furrowing his brows at the sight of him, clearly not expecting him to be there, and Stiles grins and waves at him.

Chris glances up at Derek, "Does the sheriff happen to know you're with his son?"

Stiles rolls his eyes, waving his finger at Chris in a very rude, very clear gesture, and the beta man snorts. Stiles grins, because he notices things, and he notices that Chris' eyes are more amused than anything else. Derek shrugs at the question, removing his wallet from his pocket and fishing for his credit card.

"Probably not," He states flippantly, sliding the card into the scanner.

"Hm," Chris grunts, "He probably wouldn't like it very much. I mean, I don't know about the sheriff, but, me personally, I'm quite protective of the things I love."

There's a long pause, and Stiles glances back and forth between Chris and Derek, and he wants to laugh, because could these two be anymore cliché with the stare-down, and the threatening and insulting innuendos? Stiles can't help it; he snorts a little, and they must hear him, because they glance at him, all of them, but he merely smirks at them. He won't say a word; this is between werewolves and Hunters, and Stiles, the lowly human that he is, knows that he has no place in it.

Chris glances back up at Derek, eyes narrowing, "You don't have a lot of that these days, though, do you?"

Derek's lips twitch, but he calmly removes his card and punches in the proper numbers. When his receipt prints, he snatches and stuffs in his wallet to be forgotten. He looks back up at Chris, hands folded over his wallet, eyes challenging.

"No," Derek shakes his head once, voice firm, "Not a lot. Have you ever thought about why?"

Chris' eyes narrow further, "You think it was Hunters, Derek? The fire was ruled accidental, was it not?"

Derek snorts disdainfully, and Stiles understands, because how would werewolves be killed in a regular fire, and he glowers at Chris, "We were a family of werewolves. Don't you think it would've been easy for us to get out of an accidental fire? Not unless we were trapped. By wolfsbane, maybe. Or mountain ash. Maybe even mistletoe; Laura did get sick for awhile after. Maybe even all three, take your pick."

Chris' head tilts, and Stiles sees that the man is actually contemplative rather than annoyed, and Stiles wonders if, maybe, Chris Argent is a fair Hunter after all, "I'd need proof for that, which you don't have, so there's nothing that can be done for now. But, if you get it, Derek."

Chris gives him a meaningful look, and, after a short pause, Derek nods. Stiles glances back over at the two Hunters behind the Camaro, rolling his eyes when he sees the disdain in theirs; annoyed that their leader is actually taking the words of an animal into account.

"Clearly, you're not the Alpha," Chris states, voice firm and vaguely threatening, "But, you must know that if you're involved in it's Pack, I'll have to put you down."

Derek snorts again, "You know I'm not. You're just picking fights."

"I also know that Alphas can force compliance," Chris retorts, sparing Stiles a glance, "Wouldn't want anything to happen to the jailbait omega, would you?"

Stiles bursts out laughing, Chris' eyes lighting in amusement at the sound, and Chris grins like a shark when Stiles flips him off a second time. Stiles thinks he might actually like Chris; the man is funny, even if he is threatening Derek. Derek rolls his eyes, stuffing his wallet in his jacket pocket jerkily before walking around his Camaro and retaking his seat. Stiles laughs again when Derek starts his car, reversing so fast he forces the two Hunters behind them to jump out of the way or die, and Stiles' laughter dies down into giggles as Derek takes his place on the road, speeding.

"It's really not that funny," Derek grumbles.

"It really is," Stiles snickers, "Jailbait omega..."

"Should that not be insulting to you?"

"No, why? It implies that I'm attractive, so..."

Derek rolls his eyes, and Stiles snickers again before sobering up a little. He glances at Derek, rolling his eyes a little at Derek's irritated eyes, before speaking, "Hey."

Derek is silent for a moment before he rolls his own eyes once more, mocking, "Hey."

Stiles snorts a little, "So, Chris Argent didn't seem all that bad."

Derek sighs reluctantly, "No... he's not. He's a fair Hunter, even if he's not a big fan of werewolves. I've seen him personally put down Codebreakers himself. You know, he doesn't... he doesn't tolerate Codebreaking. Doesn't believe in harming innocent supernaturals."

"Okay," Stiles nods, "That's good, then."

Derek grunts, and it makes Stiles snort out a laugh, even if he doesn't know why.

"I need to call Scott," Stiles states, fishing for his phone, "It's probably better if he knows about Chris."

"Probably," Derek mutters.

Lydia smiles when she makes another strike, catching Jackson's eye and grinning at his smirk. She loves it when they do this, when they stop hiding, however briefly, and decimate all their opponents together. She and Jackson have been hitting strike after strike, and, while Allison is able to get strikes, it's not often, and Scott is a terrible bowler.

Which makes him a liar. Then again, Jackson was goading him on, so Lydia's not really surprised. She understands; she has alpha hormones of her own to deal with, and, sometimes, she and Jackson go at it like cats and dogs because two alphas clashing is a bad thing. But, it's okay, because they know how to work through it just fine.

"You're up, McCall," Jackson drawls, and Scott hangs his head in dread. It makes Lydia snicker a little, and she knows Jackson heard it because he brushes his hand over her back, the gesture amused, she can feel, and it makes her grin widen.

She watches as Scott attempts to find proper form, lips twitching in amusement when Allison gets up to go help him. She doesn't know what Allison is saying to him, but it must be good by the way Scott's neck begins to flush. That's when Scott's phone begins vibrating, sliding across the table.

Lydia glances at Scott, seeing that he's far too immersed in whatever Allison is saying to him to notice his phone; then again, he's too far away to hear it, anyway.

"Hey," Jackson whispers, and Lydia glances at him, brows raised in question, "Answer it."

"Jackson," Lydia warns, but Jackson cuts her off.

"Look, this might be a way to figure them out," He states, "We've gotten nowhere tonight."

Lydia rolls her eyes, snatching up the phone and flipping it open, placing it to her ear. Before she can say anything, though, the voice on the other side, Stiles, begins speaking.

"So," He states casually and quickly, "You saw right, Chris Argent is a Hunter. But, it's cool; Derek says he's fair, so the only thing you really have to worry about is him being a protective dad. Then again, I'm not too sure how he'd feel about his daughter being with a wolf, fair or not. Also, I was right, the Alpha can force compliance. You need to be careful, Scott, you're in it's Pack because of the Bite; it'll come after you-"

Suddenly, the phone is snatched from her, but Lydia barely notices, her fingers slack. Her brows are furrowed in confusion, and she watches as Scott quickly takes over the conversation. She glances at Jackson, the look in her eyes conveying the confusion and unsettlement she's feeling, and Jackson's own brows furrow in worry.

Hunters? Wolves? Alphas? Packs? Bites?

Derek? As in Derek Hale?

She turns her attention back to Scott, catching his words.

"Stiles?" Scott's voice sounds a little panicked, probably wondering what all that Lydia heard, "Lydia answered my phone."

"It... it wouldn't stop ringing..." She mumbles weakly, and Jackson places a comforting hand on her lower back.

"Yeah, uh..." Scott says, "I get it, um... okay. I understand, Stiles. Yeah, just... meet me at my place after I drop off Allison. We'll talk then, alright?"

Scott hangs up, shooting Lydia a nervous grin, "Yeah, uh... he's really into online gaming, so... sorry if he said anything weird."

Lydia narrows her eyes at him before catching Jackson's own.

Scott is a bad liar.

Stiles snickers a little when Melissa finally leaves the room, clearly high on adrenaline and freaked out at Stiles' sudden entrance. He knows she doesn't care, though, knows that she likes Stiles and his antics, even if it freaks her out from time to time.

"Stiles," Scott states, taking a seat on his desk chair, "What is it?"

"Alright, you know I was with Derek today, right?" Stiles states, and Scott nods in confirmation, though he clearly looks a little uncomfortable at the notion, "Well, he went to the hospital before he dropped me off by my jeep. To talk to the driver. See if he knew anything."

"And...?"

"He died," Stiles states bluntly, and Scott blinks rapidly at the suddenly statement, "He succumbed to his wounds, is what is being said."

"But..." Scott stammers, protesting weakly, "He was fine. He had been doing fine. He was getting better-"

"Scott," Stiles sighs, "Sometimes, it may look that way, but, in reality, they're getting worse."

He would know; he's experienced it before.

"But," Scott protests again, "No! He was doing fine before Derek went to talk to him! How do you know Derek didn't do this?"

"Scott-"

"No, Stiles!" Scott snaps, "He was fine before Derek! Don't you think that's a little suspicious?"

Stiles rolls his eyes, sighing in annoyance, "Do you want to go see Derek?"

Scott nods firmly, and Stiles rolls his eyes again.

Stiles wonders how many times he'll roll his eyes today, doing it once more as Scott storms out of the jeep and into the old Hale house. Stiles sighs through his nose in irritation, turning his ignition off before following Scott inside. Stiles stays close to the door, because he's smart and he knows that Scott is probably going to goad on Derek a bit too much, because he knows Scott because Scott is his best friend, and he knows that Scott can be a bit petty when he's upset.

"Derek!" Scott shouts, and at least he has the common sense to tread with caution as he slowly maneuvers his way up the stairs, "I know what you did!"

"I didn't do anything," Derek's voice is firm and deep, and he makes it echo so that it seems to come from all around them. He sounds irritated, a bit upset, too.

"You killed him!"

"He died."

"Like your sister died?" Scott snaps, and Stiles lets his head fall back against the wall by the door in exasperation, because of course Scott would go there. Stiles knew he would, because he knows Scott, knows how petty and a bit ignorant Scott can be.

"My sister was missing," Derek's voice is a bit gruffer, and Stiles knows that Scott's comment struck a nerve, "I came here looking for her."

"You found her," Scott mutters.

"I found her in pieces!" Derek finally snaps, and Stiles can hear the pain behind the anger, and he wonders if Scott can, as well, noticing the alpha boy's movements pause for a moment, "Being used as bait to catch me!"

"I think you killed them both."

"Scott-"

"No, Stiles," Scott interrupts, "And I'm gonna tell everyone. Starting with the sheriff."

Stiles would undermine him; Scott must know that, but Scott doesn't seem to care at the moment. The bus driver is dead, and Scott is upset and angry, and now he's taking it out on Derek. Stiles watches as Derek storms from his hiding spot, swiftly throwing Scott down the stairs. Stiles moves to go help him, because this is Scott and even if Scott is being a bit irrational, Stiles doesn't want him hurt. Scott stops him, though, his head snapping up to look at Stiles, and Stiles sees that the wolf has taken over, Scott's eyes glowing and teeth elongated, and the alpha growls at him in warning. When Stiles takes a step back, Scott turns his attention back to Derek, growling out a challenge.

Derek snorts before hopping down the stairs and landing on his feet with all the grace of a cat, but before he can do anything, Scott tosses him right through the wall. Stiles' brows lift in bemusement, not expecting Scott to get one up on Derek like that. He waits until Scott climbs through the hole, following Derek, before finding a position next to the hole himself, peeking through.

He watches in fascination as Derek shifts, eyes a bright, electric blue, and he wonders why Derek told him Betas can only have gold eyes. Because those blue eyes are beautiful and enchanting, and he wants to see more of them. Derek cracks his neck briefly before locking eyes with Scott.

Derek roars.

Suddenly, the fight begins, and Stiles knows that Scott has no chance. Derek is wild and graceful and beautiful and all wolf, and Scott is just a pup compared to him, no experience, no training. Not once does Scott gain the upper hand in the fight, and he even resorts to using a weapon. Derek doesn't even flinch, and Stiles winces a little in sympathy when Derek grabs Scott by the neck and slams him into the ground a few times. It was clearly an attempt to daze the younger alpha-Beta in submission, but Scott doesn't stop fighting, and Stiles can tell that Derek is getting annoyed. 

He's proven right when Derek claws Scott right across the chest.

"Scott!" Stiles calls out, because this is Scott, Scott his best friend, Scott the only one he doesn't have to hide for, and Stiles doesn't want him hurt even if he does deserved to be punched a little, and Stiles quickly rushes into the room, ignoring the warning growls both wolves release.

Stiles doesn't need to worry, though, because he notices the wound is already healed by the time he gets there. He helps Scott take a seat in the ragged chair, glancing at Derek as he watches the man shift back, and Stiles wonders why he misses the blue eyes already, because Derek's brown, green, hazel eyes are just as nice.

"I didn't kill him," Derek grounds out, panting a little, "It's not your fault and it's not mine. You know that, you're just picking a fight because you're mad he died."

Scott snorts in frustration, but he lowers his head in submission anyway, "What do we do? We can't just let this thing run around like it is."

"No," Derek states, "We can't. Look, my sister came here looking for it. And now she's dead. This thing is strong, and there's no way I can find it, or get rid of it, for that matter, on my own."

"You want me to help you find it?" Scott asks.

"You did make a deal," Stiles shrugs, "He helps you remember the attack on the bus driver, and you help him. Right?"

"Right," Derek states before catching Scott's eye, "Look. I can teach you about being a wolf, but I want you to help me in return."

"Why me...?" Scott mumbles helplessly, and Stiles rubs his shoulder in comfort. He wants Scott to get help, wants him to learn how to be a proper werewolf, but he doesn't want him hurt and he doesn't want him scared, either. Stiles will maim Derek if either of those things happen, and he sends Derek a poisonous look that Derek must understand, because the alpha wolf nods at him knowingly.

"It Bit you, Scott," Derek states, "We've talked about this. It means you're in its Pack, and it trying to make you hunt with it is proof enough that it wants you. It wants you in its Pack and it wants you to help it kill."

Scott looks down at his hands numbly and Stiles, looking a bit unsure, wraps his arms around his alpha friend's neck from behind, knowing his scent comforts Scott.

He tries to ignore the low growl that resounds from outside.