Chapter Text
Sheriff Stilinski is not a violent man. He has the occasional episode of anger, but it usually doesn't involve physical violence unless it also involves alcohol, which it hasn't in years, and even then it was never directed at a particular person. So all in all, John Stilinski isn't the type of man to punch somebody because they deserve it. He's seen a lot of people who deserve it after so many years as a cop; he's learned not to give in to the urge to just bash someone's face in. But right now, looking at Gerard Argent's smirking face, he thinks that could change. In fact he thinks Gerard Argent is just the right type of slimeball to tip him over the edge.
"He's missing? How unfortunate," the old man says.
The Sheriff feels a tic in his eye.
"Did you have something to do with this, Gerard?" Chris asks. "I know you sent the hunters who ambushed us at the bank."
"I don't know what you're talking about, Chris," Gerard says, simpering.
Chris opens his mouth to respond with something ugly, but the Sheriff beats him to it, wrapping his hand in the collar of Gerard's shirt and getting up in his face.
"Listen, you shriveled up, little troll," John spits. "Pretending like you haven't orchestrated half the chaos in this town isn't cute. I'm all caught up now and it would be easy for me to find enough evidence to put you away for at least one of the many, many things you've done, you psychopath. So drop the act or I will make you. Do you understand?"
"Oh, I understand perfectly well, Sheriff." Gerard chuckles darkly. "But I don't know why you think prison would be any worse than my current situation. I'm bound to a wheelchair and dying slowly either way."
"There are worse things than prison or death," the Sheriff says coldly.
Chris places a hand on Sheriff Stilinski's shoulder, pulling him back slightly, but only because the man is willing to be pulled. John releases Gerard's collar and stands back, eyes on the enemy, expression like steel.
"Gerard," Chris says. "Just tell us what you know."
Gerard considers his son for a moment, that old and familiar calculating glower Chris remembers from growing up. Then the elder Argent snorts and laces his hands over his stomach, leans back in the chair comfortably.
"Fine. I'll tell you everything I know. Which is nothing. Unfortunately for you. I'm afraid I have nothing to do with the young Mr. Stilinski's disappearance."
"Did your hunters have anything to do with it?" Chris asks, lip curled in disgust at the games his father is trying to play.
"No," Gerard says simply. "Really. I did send them the night of the daring bank rescue and they still have their orders to destroy those animals and their little diabolist in training, but they had nothing to do with your current problem. They've been regrouping and restocking since the night before last."
The two men stare down Gerard for a silent moment.
"Is he lying?" the Sheriff asks.
Chris hates to admit it, but, "No. He's telling the truth."
Gerard shrugs happily. "So sorry about your son, Sheriff. But I'm afraid I can't help you."
"If you think this is over, you've got another thing coming," John says, then turns on his heel and departs.
Chris glances once more at his father.
"I wish I could say I was surprised at you, but I'm not," Chris says. "I'm not going to let you and your rogue hunters kill those kids."
"Derek Hale is no child and neither are the rest of them. Especially that wolf's whore that murdered your sister."
Chris is on Gerard in a flash, boxing him into the wheelchair and leaning over him aggressively. "I am sick and tired of your selective memory, Gerard. You're insane and so was Kate. What the two of you did to the Hale Pack, past or present, was wrong, and I shudder to think about what other horrors you've inflicted on innocents over the years that I don't know about. The hunter's code was not something to be tossed aside for your psychotic whims or your sick vendetta. I will never see it your way again, Dad. I will stand by the people in this town, who are trying to do the right thing--who are trying to protect it. Because that is what I have always stood for. Not you or your revenge-driven machinations. Stop your hunters or I will."
Chris is gone as quickly as he came, tearing down the hall before Gerard can respond. The Sheriff is waiting for him by the front doors, probably sensing Chris needed an extra moment with Gerard because of the added complication of their blood ties. That was considerate of him, but as far as Chris is concerned, his father is already dead to him.
"Dead end. Where to now?" Chris asks.
"Let's head back to the station and see if they've found anything," the Sheriff says. "We'll call in the car and see if they've found anything, too.
"No," Derek says, voice clipped. "Not yet. Still looking."
"Keep us posted," the Sheriff says and hangs up.
Derek stuffs his phone back into his pocket, the need to keep in contact with everyone else, the only reason he's not currently shifted and searching on all fours, daylight and the Sheriff's Department search party be damned.
It's been two hours since Derek woke up and found Stiles gone from his bed and only god knows how long since he actually went missing. Derek can't fathom what kind of creature could have snuck into the hospital room and taken him with Derek sitting six inches away, but he knows that whatever it was, he can't leave Stiles with it a second longer than necessary. He refuses to think about what could have already happened in two or more hours. He refuses.
They'll find him and he'll be fine. End of story.
He can sense Peter and Cora running parallel to him. Boyd, Isaac, and Erica are running in the opposite directions, the group at large skirting the Sheriff's deputies as they comb the woods as well. Scott and Allison are canvassing the town. Chris and the Sheriff are tracking down any leads.
No one has turned up a goddamn thing.
Derek keeps running.
About ten seconds after Scott hangs up with the Sheriff he hears snickering behind him.
Allison turns around faster than him, crossbow bolted and at the ready. They're faced with one of the Alpha twins.
"What are you doing here?" Scott demands. He's not sure which twin it is.
He shrugs, smiling easily. "Visiting my boyfriend," he replies, tossing his head behind him in the direction of Danny's house. So this one must be Ethan.
"Sounds like a pretty good reason to put an arrow in your thigh to me," Allison says flatly, dangerously.
Ethan holds up his hands in surrender, even though he doesn't look too sorry to be caught out. "There was nothing nefarious, I promise. No one sent me. I just wanted to see him." He shrugs again.
Scott cocks an eyebrow, looks at Allison, who is giving him the exact same look.
"Wait. Do you actually like Danny?" Scott asks, bewildered.
Ethan's expression shutters closed. "I didn't say that."
"Actually, I think you kind of did," Allison says, giving him a sympathetic look.
"Yeah, with your face," Scott adds, causing Allison to roll her eyes fondly.
"Whatever," Ethan scoffs, shoving his hands in his pockets mulishly and attempting to look tough… It's actually kind of cute. Or at least it is until he opens his mouth and says, "So your emissary is missing? That's kind of terrible, considering he's blind, isn't it?"
Scott's face clouds with cold rage. "What do you know about Stiles' disappearance?"
They had all suspected the Alpha Pack, but damn if any of them could find where the bastards were hiding out now that the bank HQ was out of the question.
"Nothing," Ethan says plainly. "I just overheard you on the phone. How long has he been missing?"
"We're not sure," Scott says. "Since some time last night."
"Well...sucks for you. Later," Ethan says and walks past them.
"Wait!" Scott calls out.
Ethan turns to look at them. "What?" he asks frowning. "I just told you I don't know anything. Was I lying?"
"No…" Scott says. "But...if you do find out anything…"
"What? You want me to tell you?" Ethan asks incredulously. "I don't think I'm supposed to share with the class, McCall."
"How about for a trade?" Allison asks suddenly.
Ethan considers her. "Like what?"
Allison shrugs and twirls a piece of hair in a way that makes her look completely unassuming. It's a beautiful ruse, really. "Oh, I don't know...insider information on Danny? How does that sound?"
"Sounds like a pretty fair trade to me," Scott says sagely, nodding slowly.
They have him, they can tell. His defenses are slowly crumbling. He totally likes Danny.
"What do you got?" Ethan asks.
Allison smiles sweetly. "What would you like to know?"
Ethan thinks about it. "His favorite song. And his favorite wine."
Scott giggles. He can't help it. The dude is totally stuck. Ethan and Allison turn matching scowls on him and he quickly sobers.
"Done," Allison says professionally to Ethan and pulls out her phone. She hits the speed dial.
"Hello, Allison," Lydia answers. "What's up?"
"A lot, actually," the teen replies. "But I need you to tell me Danny's favorite song and favorite wine."
She can practically hear Lydia frowning through the phone. "Why would you want to know that?"
"I don't want to, Lydia. I need to. Please."
"Sure, fine, whatever. It's 'Your Song' from Moulin Rouge and sweet red. Good?"
Allison pops her eyebrows at Ethan, who has been listening.
He nods. "Deal. I'll let you know if I hear anything about Stilinski."
Allison hears another voice come through the phone in the background. "What the hell?"
"Aiden?" Ethan asks, staring at the phone in puzzlement.
"Ethan?!" Aiden demands through the speaker.
"Jesus, get out of my face," Lydia says. "Here, I'll put it on speaker."
Allison switches her own phone to speaker to make things easier.
"Ethan, what do you think you're doing?" Aiden asks. "Deucalion's going to be pissed!"
"He's not going to find out," Ethan argues. "And it doesn't matter anyway. We had nothing to do with this, so I'm not going to have to call them."
"Do with what?" Lydia asks cautiously.
"Stiles is missing, Lydia," Allison says. "He disappeared from the hospital some time last night. There's no trace of him and we're looking, but no one is finding anything."
"Stiles was in the hospital again?" Lydias asks sharply.
Oh. Right. Nobody called Lydia.
"Uh, yeah…" Allison says guiltily. "Sorry. I guess we forgot to tell you. Things have been kind of crazy since Friday night. Erica and Boyd are back and Derek's little sister is alive and there were a bunch of hunters and--"
"Allison," Lydia cuts in harshly. "Tell me what is happening. Right now."
They tell her, all four of them actually, lending bits and pieces of the story to make it a whole. By the end of it Lydia is silently fuming, something the trio on the other end of the line doesn't need to see to know.
"I'm coming to help look," she says sternly. "And so are you."
"What?" Aiden squawks.
"And you, Ethan," Lydia adds.
"What? No way, we're dead if we help you."
"Then do it discreetly. Text me your location," Lydia says and hangs up.
Allison, Scott, and Ethan all stare at the silent phone for a beat.
"Uh...so should we go ahead and exchange numbers?" Scott asks.
Ethan sighs. "Yeah. Fine. We're probably dead anyway, what's it matter?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" Scott asks.
"It means Deucalion is crazy and wouldn't hesitate to kill us if we became too inconvenient."
"Aiden said that on the phone, too," Allison points out shrewdly. "Why are you guys with him if he's some unstable lunatic who's probably going to kill you? And really, you know you seemed pretty homicidal there at the beginning, but now I'm thinking you're kind of just going along with it."
"We pretty much are," Ethan admits.
"Why?" Scott asks.
"Because it's really hard to garner respect from your pack when you're a pair of teenaged Alphas. So we joined Deucalion instead of having our pack turn on us."
"Let me get this straight," Lydia says in the car, having just heard the same explanation from Aiden. "You didn't want your pack killing you out of resentment or whatever, so you killed them first, only to become part of a pack that may still kill you. Do I have that right?"
Aiden hesitates. "...Yeah…"
The redhead glances at her phone screen, watching the little marker on the map and following the directions her GPS is spitting out at her.
"Uh huh. Because that makes sense," she says.
"Look, it's more complicated than that," Aiden says.
"I'm sure it is," Lydia says primly. She pulls to the side of the road and parks.
"Uh, Lydia?" Aiden says.
"What?" Lydia asks, unbuckling her seatbelt.
"Where are we?" Aiden asks pointedly.
It's only then that Lydia looks out the window and sees that they're beside the preserve. Just on the edge of the treeline, pulled over on an empty stretch of road seemingly nowhere in particular.
"I…" Lydia says, faltering.
"Is this where they texted you they were?" Aiden asks, popping the door open and hopping out. He looks around, scents the air, doesn't notice anything or anyone. "I don't think this is right."
Lydia gets out of the car slowly. She looks shaken and a little pale. She pulls her white sweater tighter around her small frame and stares at the blank screen of her phone.
"Lydia?" Aiden asks, brows drawn down in confusion and maybe just a little concern.
"I typed it in. This is where the GPS said to go. You heard it. This is where it led us."
Aiden turns unnerved. He says, "Lydia. The GPS wasn't on."
She stares at the black piece of plastic, knowing that it had been displaying their route just a moment ago. "I swear it…"
"Lydia. What's going on?" Aiden asks.
"I don't know…" she whispers. "I don't...I…"
The young girl stops suddenly. Her whole body coils as if she's bracing for something.
Then she throws her head back, opens her mouth, and screams.