Chapter Text
Regaining consciousness is sort of alarming for Stiles, because as soon as he sits up three pairs of eyes are on him.
"Uh," is his stellar opener.
"Stiles," Derek says, coming over to him.
Lydia is on one side of Stiles and Cora is on the other; Cora moves aside so Stiles is accessible to her brother. Derek gently takes Stiles' head in his hands and turns it this way and that.
"How do you feel?"
Stiles shrugs. "Fine."
"Thank god," Derek breathes out.
Stiles teases him. "You hit me pretty hard, didn't you?"
Derek nods seriously. "I had to make sure."
Switching to a gentler tone of voice and placing a hand on one of Derek's, Stiles says, "I know. It's what I asked you to do. You did good."
When Derek glances at Stiles' face, the witch smiles at him. The werewolf looks decidedly less tense afterward.
"Jennifer and Deucalion both vamoose?" Stiles asks.
"Yes."
"Figures," Stiles says as he climbs out of Derek's bed. He stretches his long arms high above his head. "What's the sitch?"
Lydia informs him, "It's just after three o'clock. Everyone else is downstairs. Including the twins."
Stiles stops short. "The twins? I thought Jennifer snapped their collective neck?"
"She did," Derek says. "But since they were in their combined Alpha form when she did it, that's what died, not their individual selves. They're not Alphas and they can't combine anymore, but they're fine. Deaton helped."
"Wow," Stiles says. "And they're downstairs because...?"
"They want to join up," Cora says, baring her teeth.
"Join up...with us? Be part of our pack?" Stiles questions, disbelief clear in his tone.
Lydia huffs and says, "They say they're through being Deucalion's chew toys. They'd like to go "good-guy"."
"Huh. All right. So...are they in? I mean, what are we waiting for?"
"You," says Derek.
Stiles startles. "Wha—Me? Why, me? You're the Alpha. Isn't it up to you?"
Derek shakes his head. "We make decisions together."
"Oh. Well, all right. Let's go see what they have to say."
The twins don't have a whole lot to say aside from "sorry."
Stiles squints at them, face a mask of skepticism. "Well," he says, "you did help find me in the woods that time. I mean, because Lydia made you, but...oh. Oh, no, that totally works for me.
"Ethan, Aiden, you can be part of the pack on a probationary basis. You're probation officer will be: the one and only Lydia Martin. You do what she says, capiche?"
Lydia's lips slowly curl into a smile as she watches the twins for a reaction. The two weres' exchange wary glances with one another. Then Ethan shrugs and Aiden shrugs back.
"Okay," Aiden says.
"Derek, yeah?" Stiles asks.
The Alpha nods, accepting his mate's terms for their two new betas.
"Good," Stiles says. "That's all settled then. Lydia, try not to ruin them."
"Ruin?" Lydia parrots innocently. "Why, when I'm through with them—they'll be perfect." She grins winsomely at the two boys.
Aiden and Ethan look distinctly nervous.
"Okay," Stiles says with a clap of his hands. "Let's get a game plan for dealing with the wicked witch, shall we? Is anyone else hungry?"
"Darachs are different from witches," Boyd points out.
"Figure of speech, Boyd, my man," Stiles says. "Either way—that bitch is going down. Seriously—am I the only one who's starving?"
Derek's loft is so full of people. It's a sight he never really thought he'd see again. A pack. His pack. Stiles' pack.
The Sheriff and Argent come over after they returned to the Stilinski home to see that Kali's corpse was indeed disposed of. There wasn't a drop of blood left and Sheriff Stilinski balked at it. Chris only admired Morrell's handiwork.
"No wonder there are so many unsolved cases in Beacon Hills," he mutters at the conclusion of his summation.
Stiles claps his dad on the back and says, "Not for long, Daddio."
Then there's pizza.
Derek's not really sure who ordered it; he thinks it might have been Lydia. But the next thing he knows there's a delivery man at the door with a dozen pizzas and twice as many breadsticks and he's signing the receipt. He wonders when they filched his credit card.
There isn't much to the game plan against Jennifer, just to stick together and wait. Isaac expresses concern toward Jennifer just cutting her losses and leaving town to go victimize some other people.
Stiles laughs and says, "Oh, no. She'll stick around. I'm sure."
He doesn't seem concerned. Then again, he doesn't even have a bruise left on his cheek from where Derek struck him. Derek guesses he has every right to be so confident. It doesn't help ease his worry regardless.
There's laughter and merriment and it's strange, so strange, because there are two hunters among them, Argents no less, and two people who were enemies just a handful of hours ago. Yet somehow it works. Derek marvels at it. Then he looks at Stiles, laughing with a breadstick shoved in his mouth, and, in spite of all that's happened to him, counts himself as one of the luckiest men on the planet.
Eventually everyone goes home, but it's pretty late when they do; it's Friday, so no one is obligated to get up for school in the morning. Derek follows the Stilinskis to their house and curls around Stiles once they're in bed. Stiles strokes his hair and thrums with energy. The boy had been right—there s a lot of it now.
Everything seems so peaceful. Just for a moment Derek can fool himself into thinking that it really is.
He should have known it was just the calm before the storm.
"It doesn't make any sense!"
"Stiles," Derek says, "calm down.
"No. It doesn't make sense. I don't understand. They were going in order!"
"Stiles, son, we know, just…" the Sheriff trails off, at a loss for words.
"No!" Stiles says again. "I have every right to be un-calm right now. Why the hell would she go and kill three completely random people?! In one night?!"
"They weren't random. They were all healers. The next step," Derek says.
"But—but they weren't any of the ones from my vision."
"Maybe she's changing it up, trying to get the upper hand," Sheriff Stilinski says.
"She said she could use you or continue the ritual. I guess she's going with the ritual. I don't see that as a bad thing," Derek drawls.
"Yes, thank you, Captain Obvious," Stiles snaps.
Derek gives him a hard look, so Stiles backtracks. "Sorry. Sorry. Just...what the hell."
"I know," Derek says, looping an arm around Stiles' waist and tucking him into his side.
The Sheriff shakes his head. "Stiles, how well are you going to fare against her if she completes the ritual?"
The only answer Stiles can give is not a good one.
"I don't know."
Stiles' body is abuzz with energy. It's nervous and charged and it's emanating from the teen's body in a way Stiles' powers never have before. Derek can practically hear it singing like a swarm of bees drawing ever nearer, but eternally far away. It sends a little thrill down Derek's spine to feel that energy reach out and drape itself across him, wrapping him up in the buzz along with its owner. It makes Derek want to move; to run, to jump, to fuck, to fly.
It is unfortunately not a great time or place for any of that.
"You know...neither of us will ever get to sleep if you don't stop humming," Derek says into Stiles' hair.
"I know. I can't help it," Stiles says apologetically. He headbutts Derek's chin in penance, but does nothing to calm his magic. "There's too much going on still. The darach is doing god knows what right now. And we don't even know where Deucalion went. I doubt he's done with us though."
"It's likely," Derek says, not one for empty assurances.
"Yeah,” Stiles sighs.
"Try to get some sleep."
"Right back at you."
They exchange a kiss and close their eyes. Stiles hopes to dream, but no visions come to him in his slumber.
The Sheriff is not in tonight. He's out with his deputies in full force, trying to prevent any sacrifices using the information Chris gave him about the pattern of locations people were taken from. Chris is out there with him, while Peter follows at a leisurely pace somewhere behind them and apart from the rest of the crew.
The pack is spread across the town in groups and pairs. Erica and Boyd are together at Erica's house, her parents unwilling to force them apart after their stint as missing persons. Isaac is with Scott; they're both at the hospital keeping watch over Melissa. Cora and Allison are spending the night at Lydia's. The twins are together, wherever they're staying now.
Downstairs, Cor stands guard within a cocoon of magic wrought by the mountain ash that fills every corner of the house. One precaution against Jennifer, one against Deucalion.
Nothing comes for them in the night. It doesn't make anyone feel any safer.
Three more are dead in the morning—the philosophers.
Stiles is silent.
Everyone senses that the silence is deceiving, merely a front masking what true emotions roil within the witch—a black, towering storm of fury. Stiles is the elements, barely contained.
"We have to stop her before she completes the ritual," Allison says quietly.
"I know," Stiles says, low and sharp-edged.
"So what do we do?" Scott asks.
Derek and Stiles exchange a look; there's wordless communication there and a push on their bond conveying Stiles' feelings of determination and spite. Derek pushes back with his support.
Finally, Stiles says, "We go after her. We stop her."
"We don't know where she is," Erica points out.
Stiles shakes his head, then looks out evenly across each face.
"I know where to find her."