Pack meetings were boring. There really was no other way to put it. Ever since the Kanima and Gerard incident, things had been quiet. It's not that Stiles didn't appreciate the silence. It just made everything really fucking boring. So to be fair, Stiles kinda hated pack meetings. Not only did it bore Stiles; it also made him feel out of place. Oh, he was thankful that they included him now in their trusted circle. But he had no one to talk to. Sure, Scott was there but all Scott wanted to talk about was Allison. And Stiles could only take so much poetry about Allison's hair. Isaac was cool but he had such a hard-on for Scott, that Scott was literally all he talked about.

And yeah, Stiles loves Scott.

But not that much.

Because, seriously, he's the one who convinced Scott glue was not food in kindergaden.

He's not impressed.

Erica and Boyd were always off doing God-knows-what and no way was Stiles going to ATTEMPT conversation with Jackson, but even if he tried, Jackson was too busy on the phone arguing with Lydia.

Fuck Peter.

So that just left Derek. Conversation was impossible with Derek. Derek was either in stoney silence or barking orders; there was no in-between. But that didn't stop Stiles from giving him the good `Ole Stilinski babble. Normal pack meetings were basically spent in a lot of eye rolling and babble. However, this pack meeting was diffrent.

"Witches?" Scott said bewildered.

"Witches." Derek confirmed.

Stiles stopped his epic pencil drum roll on his thigh. The silence was a bit tense as the new information sunk in.

"So how are we going to kill them?" Jackson asked bluntly as he put away his phone.

Stiles pointed his pencil at him and said "No, bad dog!"

Jackson glared at him.

"If you have any ACTUAL useful suggestions, please, by all means, tell us, Stilinski."

Stiles rolled his eyes and continued his train of thought out loud. "Well we can't just kill people just because they're witches! That's persecution and it didn't work out too well if records show by the Salem witch trials. Are we seriously going to revert back to thinking like we're from the 1700s? "

Everyone groaned in annoyance except for Scott , who said "Stiles," in an exasperated voice.

Stiles snorted.

"Wow, so you're completely fine with killing these guys just because of what they are. Sound familiar? It should. Because you've suddenly become hunters. You're no better than the Argents!"

Saying that was going too far and he knew it. Derek's eyes were now a lovely shade of I'm-the-Alpha-Now-and-You've-Pissed-Me-Off red.

"Stiles." Derek boomed, so loudly, Stiles's hand reflexidly briefly turned into a fist.

A low whine was emitted from the betas. The Alpha was displeased and it showed.

In a cold, flat tone, Derek said "No Stiles, we are not like the Argents."

He barely spoke any words but the look he sent at Stiles spoke volumes.

Derek continued to stare him down, trying to make Stiles uncomfortable, so he'd look away first. He stood his ground and glared right back at Derek. He knew it wasn't a smart move because this competitive glaring was probably some stupid Challenge-The-Alpha thing but he was too frustrated to care. After a long period that felt like way too long to Stiles (but was really only a minute),one of the betas coughed and that made them both look away. Derek cleared his throat and Stiles looked up to see a brief flash of the blue-green that are Derek Hale's eyes studying his face. Stiles couldn't even try to stop the blush that colored his pale cheeks. Derek clenched his jaw and turned away, muttering to himself. Embaressed, Stiles suddenly became fascinated with his shoe laces.

"Derek." All heads turned towards the doorway to find Lydia holding out a map.

"What?" Derek asked sullenly.

Lydia rolled her eyes, impatiently shook the map and said "I found them, Derek. I found the witches. The witches we've been looking for, the witches you asked me to look for, remember?"

Derek's response to that was to grit his teeth. Lydia had become a nice asset when she joined the pack but sometimes she got on Derek's nerves.

Actually, everyone got on Derek's nerves.

Its a thing.

The pack started for the door but before they could exit, Stiles barricaded it.

"Stiles, get out of my way," Jackson said.

Stiles shook his head, head held high.

"Stiles, come onnnnn, I have to go pick up Allison!"

"I'm not moving until you all promise not to hurt the witches, just until we have evidence they did anything that deserves mauling or mild concussions or throat slashing."

Eveyone glared at Stiles but Stiles only had eyes for Derek. The pack could moan and groan all they wanted, but in the end they'd do whatever Derek told them to do.

"Please, Derek," Stiles said in a pleading voice.

It was his eyes. It was always those huge fucking Bambi eyes that screwed Derek over. Derek's left eye visbly twitched as he gave in.

"Fine. We'll give them a chance to explain themselves for coming into our territory, by friday. Which gives them two days."

Stiles sighed in visble relief.

Derek inched forward, the pack moving aside as he made his way to stand in front of Stiles's face.

"But if we find any evidence that they're connected to Peter's random dissaperance, I'll rip their throats out myself. Understood?" He said, his breath a brief warm pressure against Stiles's cheek

He bit his bottom lip in nervousness.

Derek's eyes glinted red for one brief second and yeah, Stiles completely under-fucking-stood.

"Yeah, yeah, I got you, buddy. Loud and clear."

He nodded his head enthusiastically and stepped aside for the pack to get through. Jackson bumped into him menacingly and ran off with Lydia, who trailed behind him and who blew Stiles a kiss. He smiled briefly. Scott ran out yelling a quick "Thanks Bro!" over his shoulder. Isaac smiled shyly at him, dimples blinding Stiles, making it physically impossible for Stiles to resist the urge to ruffle Isaac's curls. Isaac had finally opened up to the pack and he was basically the baby of the group. Even though he wasn't a werewolf, even Stiles understood Isaac needed physical affection.

Isaac gave him a real smile and a hug.

Derek was the last one to exit. He stood in the door way with a look that Stiles really couldn't decipher which bothered him because his mind was a safe and he had a file that catalogued all of Derek Hale's expressions and he didn't know this one.

It made him nervous.

Which made him babble.

Awesome.

"So...where were Boyd and Erica today?"

Derek frowned at the random question.

"Probably at Sally's diner. Why do you ask?"

Stiles leaned against the door.

"Oh...you know...cuz they missed out on...witches. And the not hurting a witch if they see one...Not that you can tell who's a witch. I mean, I guess you could but they'd have to be in like full Hogwarts gear, so yeah. Do you um, have a pottermore, by the way, because I have like a theory on what house everyone would be in and which house you'd be in but maybe you alrea.."

The look of confusion was on Derek's face and that shut Stiles right up. He bit his lip in frustration with himself.

Derek dissected what he could from that stream of chatter and said "Well, Stiles, I'll tell them about the witches and not hurting them until we have all the answers. And werewolves can identify witches by the way they smell. Which is usually of smoke."

Thank god Derek was already use to the babbling. He was about to leave when Stiles put a hand on his shoulder.

He turned to look at Stiles.

"About the witches, thank you," Stiles said, biting his lips with a passion.

Derek briefly followed the movement in fascination but then composed himself and looked Stiles in the eyes and nodded his head in acknowledgement. Then Derek looked down at Stiles's hand on his shoulder and Stiles casually retracted his hand. Derek rolled his eyes and muttered to himself as he walked away.

Just before he left, he turned around to face Stiles and said "Hufflepuff."

And with that, he was gone.

His mind clicked and Stiles scoffed in disbelief because clearly there was no way Derek ever read (not with those muscles unless he bench pressed with Encyclopedias) and closed the door behind himself. These days, pack meetings were held in the old abandoned warehouse near Beacon Hill's old hardware store. Since Derek started renovations on the old Hale house and he refused to house a bored Werewolf pack in his new quaint apartment; they had to find places that wouldn't look too inconspicuous for a bunch of teenagers to hang out in. Stiles walked out to his car, pulling up his hoodie as it started to rain. He pat down his front pocket for his keys and hahaha just his luck, they weren't there. He looked around, looking to see if he'd dropped his keys on the ground.

Of course not.

He turned to see that the parking lot was empty. He sighed in defeat when he realized he'd have to walk back to the warehouse to find his keys. He was just about to walk back to the warehouse when he heard a twig snap right behind him. He turned around and that was his mistake.

Everything went black as the fist connected with his face.