Stiles clicked his tongue when he didn't make the yellow light, and stopped his Jeep rather abruptly at the cross roads. He rubbed his eyes while a heavy sigh escaped him. At least I get to sleep in tomorrow, he thought, once he looked at his phone which said the time was just after midnight. It was a Friday, and he was only just going home after regrouping with the rest of the pack back at the Hale residence, in order to make sure there were no remnants of the eventful night's ordeals still on his person that would raise suspicions on his father's side. He had learned to keep a spare change of clothes on him, or in his Jeep at all times. After all, walking in back home halfway through the night with your shirt torn and covered in dirt and blood, usually not even your own, was bound to catch your father's attention, whether he was well-trained enough to be elected Sheriff or not.
He felt kind of sad, for some reason. He always did. Sad and lonely. He rationalized it in his head as crashing from the adrenaline high. It was after all, an adrenaline-filled night. He had to hand it to himself; he had done pretty well tonight. It was the Hale pack's first battle after Jackson had been cured of the Kanima, the tally going up to six members, including him and Allison, as well as Jackson and Scott, who had finally decided it was time to embrace his wolf side and join the pack. Of course, Derek had made them both go through vigorous training sessions in preparation of this fight. He had known it was coming for about a week now, and had given the opponent plenty of warnings to get off Hale territory, which were ignored, so things got physical. Apparently werewolves aren't too different from hard-headed, high school jocks.
It was a couple of Omegas. They had found each other as they were wandering in the woods and decided to wander together, into the pack's land. Derek had sent out Isaac last Saturday to meet them and warn them to stay off. He had actually given them an ultimatum: join the Hale pack, or leave. They didn't do either. Derek warned them again personally on Tuesday, when he got the same response. Friday night, the whole pack was present, ready for a fight. And this is where Stiles' problem is.
There's only so much research can do for you in a fight. After that, he has nothing. He really wonders why they invite him to the fighting and the training if he's always either running for his life or trying to find something to keep himself occupied. He had thought about getting Derek to give him the bite, but every time he went up to him to talk about how good an idea it might be, his mind decided to go blank. And that almost never happened to Stiles. Besides, he figured, I'm already in the pack, risking my life left and right. Might as well be useful.
A blaring noise yanked him away from his thoughts. The light was green and somebody had come up behind him, waiting for him to move his car along.
"Okay, okay, I'm going…" Stiles said, to himself really as he laid his foot on the gas pedal. Driving home from Derek's was a piece of cake for him by now. He didn't even think about it, it was a habit. Going to Derek's too, that was almost an everyday occurrence. Before he knew it, he was home. He walked in and found his dad passed out on the couch with the TV still on, the volume low. He thought about leaving him there, but the couch was terrible for his back. He nudged him awake and told him to go to bed, which his father obediently did. After Stiles turned off the TV, he went upstairs and stripped to his underwear before he collapsed onto his bed.
I'll shower tomorrow, he sleepily thought to himself as he drifted off to a dreamless sleep.
"Stiles?"
Stiles woke up to someone whispering his name.
"Dad?" he said, with a voice still raspy and eyes puffy and deceiving.
"Stiles, I need to go to the station, they need me down there. Just letting you know before I take off," the Sheriff explained.
"But it's Saturday," Stiles said, after he took a moment to piece together what he had just heard.
"I know son, but there's a lot of paperwork and the lines are ringing… It's just one of those days," his father said, with a little bit of regret in his voice.
Stiles nodded groggily and his father left the house, throwing a "Love you!" behind his back as he walked out the door. Stiles looked to the clock on his wall. It read nine o'clock.
Well, he thought, might as well. He dragged himself off the bed and crawled to the bathroom, all the while trying to maneuver his boxers off his hips. He walked in and tossed them into the hamper, took a quick leak and hopped into the tub for a hot shower. He savored the feeling of the hot water on his bruises and twisted his shoulders, which cracked shamelessly. He decided he had earned a long shower, and spent just shy of half an hour in there. When he got out, he brushed his teeth and walked back into his room to get dressed before going downstairs for some breakfast. The clothes from last night lay in a pile on the floor, but he didn't bother pick them up until after he had filled his stomach.
As he picked up his jeans, his phone fell out of his pocket and landed on his bed after bouncing a few times. He was just about to go looking for it, to call Scott and see if he wanted to hang out. He checked his phone and found a couple of missed calls, which was strange, considering the only people who ever called him, he had seen only last night. He brought up his call log and both calls were from Derek.
Weird, he thought.
He texted Derek: "Looking for me?" and didn't really give it a second thought before calling Scott.
"Hey, Stiles, what's up?" Scott answered.
"Nothing, just wanna see if you wanna hang out. Are you with Allison?" Stiles asked.
"No, she's at home, I think," he said, absentmindedly. "But I don't think I can hang out actually. I don't know if I should be telling you this, but Derek called me last night saying he needed to see me first thing in the morning, together with the rest of the pack. Didn't he tell you?"
"Well, I got a couple of missed calls…" Stiles said, skeptical. "So I'll see you later then."
"Yeah, bye." Stiles hung up and looked at his phone. He had gotten a text from Derek while he was talking to Scott. It read: "Yes meet me at house."
Stiles decided that it was a good idea to head down to Derek's place and find out what he wanted at ten in the morning on a Saturday first-hand. If only he could find his keys.
After ten minutes of an enthralling search for his keys and wallet, Stiles was on the road. As he was heading there, he wondered what it was that was bothering Derek that it had to be addressed face to face, first thing in the morning, and not last night when they were all still together.
When he pulled up outside, he realized he was the last one there. Jackson's Porsche was there, along with Allison's car in which Scott probably tagged along - he was proud of the two of them being completely okay with each other after their breakup. Stiles got a feeling that something serious was about to happen, that kind of something that you don't want to be late to.
As he walked in, he saw the entire pack sitting on the sofas around the coffee table in the living room, Jackson, Isaac and Derek on one, Allison and Scott on the other, everyone with serious expressions on their faces. They all looked up.
"H-hey," Stiles said, with a sheepish smile and an awkward wave.
"Sit down Stiles, we have to talk about something," ordered Derek, softly yet decisively.
Stiles did as he was told and sat next to Scott.
"Alright, I think we all know who we're here to talk about," began Derek, with a voice grave and dripping with loath. Stiles had no idea what he was talking about, but he had a fleeting suspicion.
"Erica and Boyd?" asked Stiles.
Everyone looked at him, once again. Their expressions this time, though, were closer to incredulous.
"What?" said Jackson.
"Stiles, I don't even have werewolf senses, and I knew that was about Lydia," said Allison.
"Aren't you supposed to be in love with her?" Isaac asked, before the conversation continued, and Scott lightly nudged Stiles' elbow with his own, just for the support. Because God knows how many times Scott's made a fool of himself and Stiles saved his ass.
"Anyway," Derek continued, "you guys have been telling me she's totally fine? As in, one hundred per cent fine?"
"Yeah," Jackson replied. His relationship with Lydia, after the incident at the warehouse, had been reborn stronger than ever. "Barely ever mentions anything werewolf-related."
"She's perfectly normal with me too," added Allison. "Just regular girl talk and nothing more. I mean, it was kind of awkward the first few days, but even then she didn't talk about it. Either she's in denial, or she has a surprising control of her emotions."
"Why are we talking about Lydia though, if she's totally fine?" asked Scott. Stiles had to admit, it was a valid point.
"Because I'm thinking about offering her to join the pack," said Derek.
"What?" everyone said, whipping their heads around.
"I've been thinking about it," explained Derek, "and I don't believe it's a bad idea. She already knows so much about us, too much even. She's practically a part of this world already, and her boyfriend is a werewolf. And I know, having too many humans in the pack might be risky, but she's a smart girl. She can be trained in combat, if she likes. Plus, she's immune to the bite, so there's no fear of her going wolf."
"Yeah, but there's plenty of chance she's gonna get killed!" protested Allison, concerned for her friend.
"You and Stiles could get killed too, and I don't see you wanting to leave the pack," said Isaac, defending his Alpha.
An ear-splitting howl brought an end to their argument.
"What was that?" Scott said, suddenly alarmed. Stiles was sharing that emotion.
"Just the girl from last night, she's in the basement, don't worry," said Derek nonchalantly.
"You mean you have a werewolf girl chained up in your basement?" said Stiles, keeping his tone even.
"Yes," said Derek.
"Why?" said Jackson.
"Questioning," explained Derek.
"What about the guy?" asked Isaac.
"No, I shot him in the face last night," said Allison softly.
"Oh, right," said Isaac, remembering.
"And what could you possibly want to learn from her?" asked Stiles.
"Well, why don't we go find out?" replied Derek, the usual aggression towards Stiles returning to his voice.
Stiles didn't know why he hadn't bolted for the door up until that point, but five minutes later he found himself with the rest of the pack looking at the basement door and listening to Derek warning them about how ugly it could get in there. After all, he was holding her prisoner. Derek opened the door and they all walked in, like little ten year olds on a school trip to the museum, looking at the wonderful exhibit.