Title: Research
Summary: "Who would want you dead so much they'd risk calling me in without concrete proof that you're a mindless, ruthless murderer? Because I've gotta tell you, while some of your decisions have been a little suspect and your choice of betas is, quite honestly, idiotic, you're a good guy."
"So why not let me go?" Derek growled and Stiles smiled.
"Everyone's gotta earn a living..."
Notes: I wanted Hunter Stiles with a conscience, I made this.
"I only get called when the locals are out of options, when they're either too exposed to proceed or not equipped to handle the threat. So far, that working has done me well, because they don't know I do research and they don't know I verify everything I kill - but it just so happens that no one yet has ever been stupid enough to call me into something they know I'd find morally abhorrent." He stepped up to the downed, chained werewolf, crouching on the edge of the circle of mountain ash. "What do you think, Derek? Who would want you dead so much they'd risk calling me in without concrete proof that you're a mindless, ruthless murderer? Because I've gotta tell you, while some of your decisions have been a little suspect and your choice of betas is, quite honestly, idiotic, you're a good guy."
"So why not let me go?" Derek growled and Stiles smiled.
"Everyone's gotta earn a living..."
"Hey kid," Stiles dropped a hand down on the shoulder of a teenager sat in the local coffee shop of the dead end town he'd been called to, and took the seat beside him. His friends, a jock and a fashionista just stared at him. "I hear you're very technical..."
"Who the fuck are you?" the jock demanded but Stiles only had eyes for the tech kid. "Hey!" the jock reached over but Stiles grabbed his wrist and slammed it down on the table, twisting it brutally.
"The Porsche outside, I assume that's yours. Open your mouth again I'll slash the tyres and key my fucking name into the driver's side door, then, when I get arrested, I'll tell your mother and father it's because I fucked you at a party and you never called back. Now, are you going to open your mouth again?" the jock glared hatefully but shook his head. "Good boy," Stiles released the hand and turned back to the technical kid. "I've got 200 bucks and two tickets to the geeks n gadgets roadshow in San Francisco next month if you can trace a cell number for me." The guy blinked at him, completely shocked.
Someone did some kicking under the table and the kid glared at the girl, who smiled sweetly before he turned back to Stiles.
"Why would you give away two tickets to that roadshow?" he asked suspiciously.
"I was meant to get comic con tickets." Oddly enough, the guy looked like he completely understood. "If you can do it in the next ten minutes you can have everything now and I won't darken your door again."
Ten minutes later, the deed was done; Stiles got the information he asked for - which wasn't much. The kid looked like Christmas was cancelled but a deal was a deal to Stiles and he put the envelope with the cash and the tickets on the table.
"How old are you?" he asked and the kid frowned.
"18?"
"Are you asking me or telling me?" Stiles' lips twitched and the kid flushed.
"I'm 18."
"What's your name?"
"Danny..." That established, Stiles smirked, leaning over to type a key sequence into the laptop quickly - too quickly for Danny to stop him, erasing the last 15 minutes of use from the memory logs. "What the hell?" Danny glared at him.
"You're cute," Stiles chuckled and stood up, bowing his head to get closer to Danny's ear. "Thanks for the help," he murmured and left the coffee shop, well aware of the stares he received as he walked.
"I hear you're the go-to guy for the annoying and fury?" Stiles leaned against the desk as the veterinarian of Beacon Hills was filling out some paperwork.
"Among other things," the vet hummed.
"You're one of the Yoda's of emissaries, aren't you?" Stiles groaned and the vet's lips twitched. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about a beef with the local alpha would you? Who might have it in for him? Who'd want him deader than his undead uncle?"
"Well," the vet said. "You could probably start with his undead uncle?"
"Peter Hale craves power. If he wanted his nephew dead, he'd do it himself and become an alpha again." The Vet arched his eyebrow, looking suitably impressed.
"You are remarkably well informed."
"Just because I'm a gun for hire doesn't mean I don't do my homework," Stiles drawled and the vet continued to study him.
"Someone hired you to kill the alpha," he surmised but Stiles neither denied nor confirmed. Not that he needed to. "You're trying to find out if he deserves it." Again, Stiles didn't answer and the vet sighed. "He's made a lot of mistakes, but he's a... while not a good alpha yet, he's getting there."
"You were his mother's emissary," Stiles' lips twitched and the vet rolled his eyes.
"From all I've heard of you, and I have heard of you Red," Stiles didn't react so he continued. "You only kill those who deserve it."
"Turning three high school kids doesn't make him deserve it?"
"Every alpha needs a pack, you know that." They remained silent for a long while before the vet spoke again. "Did you consider going after the ones who burned the Hale family down 6 years ago?"
"I got the feeling Laura Hale just wanted to be left alone to mourn," Stiles finally admitted.
"Would you have taken the job?"
"And deprive a Hale of the honour of avenging their family?" Stiles snorted, pushing away from the desk. "Thanks for the info, Doc." Then he was gone.
"Got a question for you," Stiles frowned at the file he was holding and sighed before tossing it across the table. "You're close with the pack, right?"
"Stiles..." the tone was warning and Stiles just rolled his eyes.
"Relax pops, I'm only asking questions."
"Your questions tend to leave a body trail..."
"All sanctioned and legal," Stiles smiled innocently but his dad still glared.
"The pack here is peaceful; it's at peace right now. And it's healing after losing a member last year. Don't go stirring up trouble for them," he was pointing at his son and Stiles lost his smile, his expression turning into a frown.
"All I've heard is how good they are - well, not good, but learning. The alpha is new and he's learning, the betas are new and they're learning... everything is telling me this kid doesn't deserve to die."
"So why are you still going around asking questions? I fielded a report for you, you know? The Whittemore kid at the coffee shop?" Stiles snorted. "Seriously? That's jail time right there!" His dad just sounded exasperated and it made Stiles a little sad to be causing the old man so much stress.
"I've never had a job where the hit didn't deserve it - where I could run all the evidence by the council and they'd sanction it. But this time... it like I'm being used to fulfil some personal vendetta against Hale. I don't kill innocent people, wolves, vamps... I don't. Mom taught me better than that, you taught me better than that! I'm not gonna throw it all in your face for a damn payday, I just... if I don't get to the bottom of this they'll just send for someone with less scruples than I have."
"I can't believe you just used scruples in a sentence," his dad snorted and Stiles threw a balled up piece of paper at his head.
"You know how I got into this?" Stiles asked the alpha, who had given up trying to get himself into an upright position. "My mom. She wasn't a hunter or anything; she was a gun for hire. Pretty face could slip in under the radar, no one suspected someone looking that sweet and innocent to be able to kill, y'know? She taught me right from wrong, so did my dad - who's a bonafide Sheriff," he laughed. "He hates that I do what I do, calls it sanctioned murder, which hurts because it's basically how him and my mom met, y'know?"
"Why are you telling me this?"
"I'm thinking out loud, stop ruining my thought process."
"How is this my life?" the alpha groaned and Stiles snorted.
"Luck of the draw, kid..."
When Argent opened the door, Stiles actually believed he wanted nothing more than to slam it in his face. Instead, he paled and tried to contain how much he was shaking.
"When you start shaking like that, I think you're trying to hide some naughty deed done that might warrant my attention," the man paled even more. "But I'm like a taxi firm, pre-book only. You can't just pick me up on any old street," he clucked his tongue and crossed the threshold, walking into the apartment. "Nice place," he heard the door click shut and chuckled. "Put the gun away, we're all friends here."
"You put me in the hospital last time we had a chat like old friends," Argent ground out and Stiles sighed dramatically.
"Your sister was a psychopath, your father was a psychopath who wanted the alpha to bite him to cure his cancer, your wife killed herself because you didn't have the balls to tell her she could live with being a werewolf and all I wanted was the location of your dad. How can I be faulted if you're too stupid to answer a simple question?"
"You're not endearing yourself to me, Red," but Stiles heard the safety click back in place and the ruffle of fabric told him either the gun had been put away, or another one had made an appearance.
"Got a question," Stiles turned and saw Chris stiffen. "Seriously man, not gonna hurt you. You caught me on a bad day is all."
"A bad day?" Chris' laugh was a little desperate and Stiles sighed.
"Someone put my dad in the hospital, you were stalling so the bastard who ordered it could get away." When Chris' eyes widened in realisation, Stiles snorted. "Maybe if I'd have lead with that-"
"You're dad's the Sheriff of Beacon Hills?" Chris gasped.
"That's what you took from that? Really?" he rolled his eyes again. "Whatever. Question. You're the closest hunter for 50 miles, you know the area, and you know the pack. What has Derek Hale done to someone to earn a visit from me?" He watched Chris' reactions very closely and frowned.
"How much?" Chris asked, looking green as he did so.
"You know my rates," Stiles replied and he saw Chris close his eyes as if praying to some higher body to save his eternally tormented soul.
"Is it done?"
Stiles was sat on the steps of the burned out husk that was once the main hub of the Hale estate. He remembered the place as a kid, he'd drop by every now and then with his mom to for training in how to recognise werewolf characteristics. Talia Hale was nice, Stiles liked her a lot. She knew what Stiles' mom did and didn't judge, because she knew she'd never have to fear being on the receiving end.
"Payment?" Stiles asked into the phone.
"I have it. Is it done?" the voice, obviously warped.
"And dusted. I'm at the house. Be here in five minutes." He hung up and waited.
He was a little out of his element, not sure what will happen next. He knew a lot of people would be hurt by this; there would be a lot of unrest.
"I want to see," the girl flew out of the car and stormed up to the house so quickly Stiles almost didn't catch her, but he did, just, and held her back at arm's length. "What are you doing?" she snapped. "I need to see! I need to make sure he's dead!"
"Stop!" he said, shaking her hard.
"Your money is in the car," she snapped and he rolled his eyes.
"You do business with someone like me, learn the script. Money first, peaches," he shoved her back and she stumbled before righting herself. She glared at him before stalking back to her car and grabbing a duffle back from the passenger seat. When she was close enough, she threw it at him and waited. He caught the bag and opened it, sighing silently when he saw the money all there.
"Twenty thousand, as agreed. Now can I see him?" she snapped and Stiles backed up the steps and knocked on the door before stepping aside. "What's going on?" she asked, suspicion clouding her tone but he didn't answer, he just waited.
The door opened and the alpha Stiles had had chained and encircled in Mountain Ash stepped out, his pack flanking him and fanning out. The girl stared, eyes wide and terrified at them all.
"Derek," she breathed, taking a step back. "Scott," she choked, flinching as someone down the line growled. She continued to back away slowly. Running was never a good thing when dealing with wild predators - with werewolves, it was ten times worse. Those lessons as a kid were both the best and worst of the lot. "You!" she screamed at Stiles, who stared back, face blank. "You were supposed to do a job! You're a mercenary! You murder for money."
"Actually," the Sheriff had been approaching silently from somewhere beyond the tree line with two of his deputies, gesturing for them to grab her when they got close enough. "He's government licenced and council sanctioned."
"Why didn't you just do your damn job?!" she screamed, glaring at Stiles. "He killed my mother! They killed my entire family! He deserves to die!"
"Allison," Chris was stood at the other side of the clearing, gripping his car door tightly.
"You're worse than they are! You associate with them!" She screamed at him, trying to flail her way out of the deputy's grasp, and only succeeded in throwing them all to the ground.
Stiles had been doing this job for a long, long time. He knew every move there could possibly be and when he caught the glint of gun metal against the mid-day sun, he cursed and threw himself at the alpha, pushing him into the rest of his pack just as he felt a bullet tear into his shoulder.
The force of the hit spun him 360 degrees until he was brought roughly back down to earth at the bottom of the steps.
Dimly, he heard screams, heard Miranda rights being read, shouting, his name. He felt hands on his face as the force of his head hitting the frozen mud that was the garden of the Hale house sent him into a world of darkness.
"Why are you keeping me here if you're not going to kill me?" Derek sighed, trying to appear like he was getting bored but Stiles could see the tension in his shoulders.
"This isn't my first rodeo. I'm quite aware of the New Moon... it makes it harder for you to tap into your wolf, not quite the lunar eclipse, but the closest to it without having to wait four years for the next one."
"So what, you're waiting for me to be at my worst before you try to kill me?"
"Do or do not, there is no try," Stiles leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.
"So you're going to kill me?"
"Were you always this morbid?" he cracked an eye open. "Geeze, have a little faith, sourwolf."
"Oh I'm sorry, it's hard to have faith in the hunter who has me trapped in binding chains in a circle of mountain ash this close to the only time in a month when I'm at my weakest!" the alpha snarled.
"Apology accepted." Stiles smirked and the alpha tried to fight against his chains some more. "I'm not going to kill you, but I'm not the one in this sleepy little town who wants you breathing your last tonight. So I figure, keeping you here where I know you're safe will keep my mind at ease. And don't worry; your betas think you're trying to find inner peace." He snorted. "Well, I hope they are," his voice rose. "The entire house is surrounded by mountain ash and I'm not breaking it until dawn." He turned to the alpha, who rolled his eyes and let out a low growl that sounded like he was annoyed. That might be his agreeing growl though; Stiles didn't know him well enough to differentiate between growls and moods.
"You're letting me go when the sun comes up?" Stiles nodded. "You realise I'm going to knock you out, right?"
"You can try, Cujo. I think you'll find it difficult to be mad at me when I tell you how I'm about to save you and your pack." He waited a full 36 seconds before he heard the alpha take a breath to answer.
"From who?"
Stiles smile was slight and wan.
Stiles hated hospitals. Always did. Well, ever since his mom died in one. They were clinical, his life was dirty. Don't get him wrong, he loved being clean, it was probably the best feeling in the world after a mind blowing orgasm.
"He's waking up," the voice was fuzzy but the works clear enough and no, he absolutely did not want to wake up. That meant he survived and oh god-
"Doesn't count, pops," he slurred, he knew he slurred, wasn't particularly proud of the fact but what can you do? He did, however, hear his dad snort, amused and fingers carding through his hair gently.
"I've already called the council, brat."
Stupid dad, he thought before slipping back into unconsciousness.
The next time he woke up he was slightly more lucid, awake enough to meet the nurse his dad been talking about for the last year and a half.
"Melissa," she introduced herself, smiling down at him before she checked his vitals. "I think I have to thank you," she went on. "For saving my son's life today..."
"Derek Hale is way too old to be your son," Stiles said tiredly and she laughed.
"My son is called Scott," she smiled. "And we kind of adopted Isaac along the way, he was there yesterday too."
"I'll kick his ass if he pulls my dad into supernatural bullshit," he slurred and she patted his hand - the one attached to the non-injured shoulder, and told him to go back to sleep.
"Your papers came today," his dad said as soon as Stiles opened his eyes and Stiles wanted nothing more than to close them again. Instead, he flinched his way into an upright position and took the A4 sized envelope. "You're not fighting this," his dad was suspicious but Stiles didn't reply. He spent the next twenty minutes reading through release forms, non-disclosure agreements and the offer of retainer. He signed everything he needed to and handed it back to his dad before going back to sleep, or pretending to until either his dad left or he actually fell asleep.
He couldn't remember which came first.
When he was well enough to go home, he wasted no time in buying himself a fully furnished apartment and going there instead of spending more than the absolute minimum at his childhood home. His dad was put out, but happy that he wasn't leaving town so he didn't argue much. It took a while for him to organise transport for all the stuff he'd stashed across the country but eventually he had everything in one place and gave into his inner OCD and organised.
The end result was a brand new apartment that looked lived in.
On the second week of his freedom, there was a knock at the door and he knew who it was before he called out that it was open.
"Come to knock me out for saving your ass?" he asked, not looking up from the wok he was cooking a stir-fry in. It had taken him an hour to peel and chop veg with one hand and he'd be damned if he wouldn't eat the damn thing.
"Not quite," the voice was over his injured shoulder and he huffed.
"Finish that and you can eat half," Stiles muttered and went to get them both beers from the fridge. Dinner was dished out in less than five minutes and they sat down to eat at the breakfast bar.
"Your dad thinks you're pouting because he made you quit hunting," Derek said between bites.
"He did not say that," Stiles stared at him but the alpha shrugged.
"He's worried."
"He wasn't the one used in a plot to commit murder two weeks ago," Stiles grouched, taking a pull from his beer.
"I want to put you on retainer," Derek said by way of replying to the comment. "When you're fit for duty I mean," he gestured to Stiles' busted shoulder. "Chris Argent is leaving Beacon Hills. Your pseudonym is more known than the Argent name. If you plant yourself here permanently, it'll keep the rogue hunters out of my territory unless invited."
"You want me as a perimeter fence?" he snorted as Derek flashed him a smirk. "You realise I might not be here all the time, right? The council have me on retainer too."
"Your dad mentioned something about that yeah. Which is why I want you training with us, so you can teach my betas everything they need to know to defend themselves against a hunter without killing one."
Stiles watched the other man for a long time over the bottom of his bottle before setting it down beside his empty bowl.
"I used to come here as a kid, with my mom. Talia Hale was the best alpha on the West Coast, this pack was the most stable I've ever met."
"I remember," the alpha was staring at the crippling remains of his family home, lost in his memories.
"You had a much sunnier disposition back then." A glance to his left told the alpha that his captor was smirking, eyes dancing and he huffed out a laugh.