CHAPTER TWO

Lydia wasn't stupid. She knew what world she was in, she knew the dangers. Before she had joined forces with the Hales, or perhaps more specifically Derek because of her less than stellar encounters with the previous Alpha, Peter Hale, she had been the BANSHEE. Professional assassin.

Not that anyone knew.

Well, Derek knew and she suspected Stiles knew because he knew pretty much everything about them.

It wasn't a part of her life she was entirely proud of. Initially, it had been a way to keep control over her life when it had spiralled so quickly into chaos. And then it was because, well, it was fun, if nothing else. It was a game. She gathered intel, she killed, she screamed and watched the police, specifically Detective Whittemore, wander around in frustrated bafflement as the body count rose.

She was good at her job, and more importantly, she was good at not drawing attention to herself. Not until it was absolutely necessary, which is why she understood why Derek was so furious with her. Taking a hostage, especially such a high risk one was...not what one would consider smart.

Derek had fumed silently in the car ride back to the Den, his fingers clenching and unclenching on the steering wheel. Stiles, whose hand gripped at his bleeding arm tightly, kept glancing between Derek and Lydia, as if expecting something to explode, and Isaac was pretending he didn't notice the tension in the car. When they pulled up, Derek practically yanked Stiles out of the car, ignoring his yelp of pain, and pushed him roughly towards Erica.

"Stitch him up," he growled out the order.

Erica rolled her eyes and Stiles glared, grumbling something about sour wolves and dumbass alphas as he followed the blond towards the bathroom and, more importantly, the first aid kit. And then attention turned to Lydia and the brunette that Isaac was lifting over his shoulder from the back of the car.

"Uh, guys, this is Allison Argent," Cora declared worriedly, brushing the curls away from the girl's unconscious face. She looked up, watching her brother and Scott and then Lydia, who was staring stubbornly at Derek. "Why do we have Allison Argent here?" she demanded.

"Good question. Why don't you ask Lydia? Give me a reason, and I won't kick your ass," Derek announced.

Lydia scoffed. "As if you could."

"Lydia..." he gritted out.

"Look, I wouldn't have done it unless I had to," she defended.

Derek pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just tell me Lydia."

"I told her to it," Scott interjected.

The room went silent and Cora and Boyd sent each other mildly worried looks. The relationship between Scott and Derek was a strange one at the very least. When Scott had first joined, he had practically hated Derek and hadn't been afraid to let him know. He had questioned everything and Cora couldn't remember a time where her head wasn't starting to ache from the amount of shouting contests the two had gotten into. But then the Hunters had happened, and Deucalion, and the Pack had regrown, and they'd come closer, thankfully. Scott and Derek had started to work together, to take their leadership seriously, but anyone with eyes could see there was still a power struggle there, still hints of mistrust. This...this probably wasn't going to help anyone.

"Can I speak to you for a moment?" Derek asked harshly, "Alone."

He jerked his head towards the next room, the war room as it had been dubbed. Scott straightened up and folded his arms across his chest. They stared each other down before Scott nodded sharply and the two stormed off. To be honest, it was a little impressive that restraint was held until they were inside the soundproofed room.

Cora folded her arms uncertainty across her chest. Boyd dropped into one of the seats in the living room of their Den. Lydia stared with narrowed eyes at the closed door in the war room. Isaac adjusted his grip on Allison's body

"Um, anyone know where I should put her?" he questioned awkwardly.

"Put her in one of the spare rooms," Lydia told him after a moment of silence, "The one closest to mine should be safe enough."

Isaac nodded, accepting the order, and made the follow it.

"Isaac," Boyd's voice stopped him, and he turned slightly, "Use handcuffs."

He nodded jerkily in response.

"Would you just - ow!" Stiles hissed angrily and jerked his arm away violently, "Hey, stop it!"

Erica scoffed and rolled her eyes in exasperated. "Don't be such a baby, Stilinski," she retorted before jamming the needle and thread back into his arm with more force than necessary.

"Be gentle!" Stiles whined, "I'm injured."

"Yeah and whose fault is that?" Erica looked unimpressed.

Stiles frowned. "Gerard would have shot Cora."

"Yeah, and instead, he shot you," she pointed out.

Stiles decided not to reply. He just clenched his jaw and let Erica finish stitching him, without complaint. Objectively, he understood why Erica would have been so frustrated with him. He probably would - and had - felt frustrated and angry whenever one of the others got hurt. He always felt as if he should have done something; that he could have done something, and it would bug him for days until they moved without injury. Personally, it irked Stiles that it was felt he shouldn't have done something that helped a member of the Pack. What, was he supposed to just let Cora get shot? Was he supposed to let Derek lose is last sane family member to the Hunters?

No.

He'd never do that to Derek or the Pack.

Erica sighed heavily, dropping her hands when she was finished. "Look, we all appreciated what you did, okay. You saved the Alpha's sister. But you got hurt and you know how much one of us getting hurt freaks out the others."

Stiles' smiled slightly. "Yeah, I know," he moved his shoulder a little, testing and grimaced.

"It'll be like for a while, I'd avoid gun fights for a while," Erica advised.

Stiles snorted. "How about we all do, and then I won't have to do something as stupid as jumping in front of a bullet again?"

"I think we're in the wrong world for that, don't you?" The door to the bathroom swung open and Cora stood there, arms folded across her chest and her eyes focused solely on Stiles.

"Yeah, I guess so," he agreed awkwardly. He slid from where he was sitting on the sink, feet touching the floor.

Erica glanced between them cautiously before standing up from the toilet seat. "I'm going to go see what Boyd's up to."

"No making out on the sofa," Stiles called out, "It's a teenage hormone free zone."

Erica smirked. "No promises."

Cora and Stiles were left alone. Cora stood almost just the uncomfortable side of tense, watching Stiles curiously. Stiles leant back against the sink and cleared his throat, reaching up with his non-injured arm and scratched the back of his neck.

It was Stiles that gave into breaking the silence first. "Are you…is everything okay?"

"You took a bullet for me," she responded, instead of answering the question.

He glanced down at his bare shoulder, the skin red and the dark stitches seeming to stand out stark making everything look sore and so much worse than it felt (and it felt kind of terrible). He returned his gaze to Cora. "Yeah, I guess I did."

"I…" Cora faltered off, "I just…" she huffed, "Thank you, for doing…that."

Stiles blinked a little surprised. He didn't actually think he had heard Cora say anything to anybody, ever really. "Um, it's fine? Really. I…it's not really that big of a deal."

"No one's ever taken a bullet for me," she retorted.

"And that makes me…special?" Stiles tried, uncertain. Although, he had to admit, he was always unsure when it came to the minds the Hales, whether they're insane or not. They had the best of poker faces.

"It means that I owe you one," Cora corrected.

"No, Cora, really, you don't have to-"he attempt to reassure, a little panicked. The idea of someone being in his debt, yeah, not one he liked very much.

She waved him off. "Shut up. I do. I…It's a Hale thing. We honour of debts."

"There is no debt," Stiles insisted, "I'm holding nothing above your head. There is nothing you have to repay or honour. If you have to do something, bring me ice cream. That means like a cool and non-lethal way for you to repay if you're determined." He took a step forward, "I didn't push you away to become part of some score system. You're Pack, you're family. I'm a Beta, it's my job to protect you guys. I would have done the same if it were Isaac in trouble, or Boyd or even Derek."

"I know you would," Cora told him, "But that doesn't mean I'm going to just let this go." It sounded like the end of a conversation to Stiles, but not an end of the topic and there was another thing about Hale's that Stiles had realised – they are ridiculously stubborn and impossible to argue with.

Stiles sighed, accepting his defeat, for now at least. He gave Cora a tight smile and made to leave but was stopped by a hand on his good arm. He shot her a questioning look.

"The girl that Lydia took, she's Allison Argent. She's the one that supposed to take over Kate when the hunter falls," she stated.

"Shit," Stiles cursed. He could only imagine how bad this was going to be. And that was very, very bad.

Cora hummed her agreement to the sentiment. "Apparently, it was under Scott's direction."

"Shit," he repeated. He ran a hand over his face. "Right, where are they?"

"War room. You should probably going in there to stop them from killing one another," she told him.

"I'm injured. Why are you sending me into a battle field?" Stiles whined.

"Because you and I both know that you're the only one that can talk some sense into them," Cora reminded pointedly, much to his chagrin. She stepped closer and lowered her voice, "We also know that Scott wouldn't have done this without reason. He wouldn't put us in that much danger."

"I think we should just leave them for a bit. You know, maybe Derek can get his aggression out on someone that isn't me, and Scott can learn to make sure everyone is involved in the voting process before he does things that affect all of us," Stiles said hopefully.

Cora arched an eyebrow and Stiles sighed, "Okay, fine, I've got it. Send me into the wolves den, why not? It'll be a ball. Just, ah, help me put my shirt back on?"

She smirked a little at him but did as he asked. Stiles winced at the pull of the wound and he knew that it was going to be a bitch to deal with from now on. Why were there always consequences for good deeds? He rubbed at the raised injury with careful fingers.

"Hey, can that count as you repaying your debt?" Stiles questioned hopefully as he followed Cora out of the bathroom.

She didn't even turn around. "Not at all."

He sighed, shoulders slumping. "Yeah, I thought not."