Isaac, surprisingly enough, woke just a short two hours later. Stiles had resorted to reading one of the awful books that the hospital had provided. When the boy woke, he was confused and a little bit frightened. Stiles didn't blame him. He had been through a lot. Things got a little bit better when the social worker came in with Laura. They explained that his father had been arrested and was being held on charges of abuse, assault, and endangerment of a minor. All on all, there wasn't any way he was getting out of holding. The man didn't have enough money to bail himself out. And no respectable bondsman would ever allow him to walk out. Beacon Hills was just that kind of place.
After the doctor came in and assessed Isaac's condition, Laura was given the discharge forms. Judge Dathers, the local judge for children's court, had signed an overnight confirmation allowing Laura to take custody of Isaac. Stiles made a mental note to send the woman a gift basket. She always was his favorite. Isaac was dressed and ready to leave within the hour. He left with Laura, filing into a sleek newer model Camaro. Stiles followed them from the hospital. He followed them out of town on the road that led towards the preserve. It seems that Laura's home was nestled in the trees. Not a bad thing, just not what Stiles had expected.
They followed the road for about five minutes before coming upon a rather large, mansion like house. It had to have had an easy seven rooms. At least. Stiles could only imagine what the inside would look like. He pulled in beside Laura, leaving room for himself to leave when the time came. There were several other cars in the driveway. Stiles guessed that they belonged to Laura's husband and brother. They were most likely inside.
Isaac exited the Camaro. He was visibly tense and was all but radiating nervousness. Laura gave him a small, reassuring smile as she led him inside. Stiles was right behind her. The interior of the house was magnificent. The foyer was solid wooden floors, a chandelier gleaming brightly overhead. Walls of warm browns and vanilla complimented the ensemble. Isaac was just as dumbfounded as Stiles. Compared to the hell that he had been trapped in, this was a virtual paradise.
"Well, this is us. Plenty of rooms to choose from. I'd go with the third on the left after you go up the stairs. It's the only one with an adjoining bathroom. It would allow for a certain sense of privacy."
Stiles could tell that Laura was genuinely trying to be kind. Isaac had been transplanted into an entirely new environment. Not only that, the people that he was going to be living with were complete strangers. Couple that with years of systematic abuse, and it was a recipe for disaster. Laura, in her own small way, was trying to ensure his comfort. Trying to ease the blow that this was real and that it was happening. Stiles decided then and there that this was the best place for Isaac. He was with someone that legitimately cared for his wellbeing. Laura had, on short notice, dropped her day and ensured that Isaac wouldn't have been thrown into a random home. That, and she let Stiles accompany them to the house allowing him to assuage his concerns.
"What exactly do you do?" Stiles asked a little shell shocked.
"I'm a top lawyer at the firm I work for. Not just a desk lackey. My husband James is an IT consultant to a tech firm based in LA. He's basically on the phone or on Skype all day. A difficult task considering he has Tristan to look after."
"That your son?"
"He just turned three. He'll be excited to have a big brother." Laura said smiling at Isaac.
Isaac blushed and curled into himself. The talk of brothers was a sore subject for him. His had been a marine overseas on duty. Stiles remembered when he had come back. Only it had been in a casket. Camden had been shot in a firefight. According to what he heard, he had been protecting a group children that had been caught in the crossfire. He was awarded a purple heart and silver star. Isaac didn't speak for a week afterwards. Not that he spoke much at all before. But after that, Stiles seemed to recall that he became more reclusive than before. Now, he was going to get to play brother to someone who needed it. Stiles knew it was going to be a good thing. Isaac was going to be in an environment where he could be loved, and in turn, love someone else. It was the first step in the process of healing.
"Well, I need to go find my hubby. Isaac, feel free to take your things upstairs and place them in any of the available rooms. Stiles, help yourself to whatever is in the kitchen. I'll find everyone so you can meet them."
Laura walked off towards the back of the house, her heels clicking against the fine wooden floors. Isaac was cemented in place, obviously too afraid to move. Stiles just gave him a smile and jerked his head towards the upstairs. The boy got the message and took his bags upstairs. When he had gone in the room of choosing, Stiles moved towards what looked like the kitchen. It was all polished marble countertops and gleaming steel appliances. Seriously, these people were loaded. Isaac was going to do just fine here.
The fridge was stocked full of a variety of foods. Much to his surprise, there wasn't one trace of processed foods. The Hales were apparently health freaks. Not that merited any concern. Just that Isaac might have a hard time climbing aboard the kale bandwagon. He laughed at his own joke whilst grabbing a bottle of water. The day had left him little time to eat or drink anything. There was scratchiness in the back of his throat that he had just noticed. The water helped, but his stomach was growling for actual food. Even though Laura had said to help himself, Stiles didn't want to impose. He had all but strong armed her into letting him come here to Isaac settle in. Instead, he sat down on a stool by one of the counters, waiting for when Laura would come back.
It wasn't a rather long sit. Stiles heard a sniffling, and a slight whimper. Like that of a child. Exiting the kitchen, he found said child just outside. He was chubby cheeked and crying ever so slightly. He was rubbing a tiny hand across his face. He couldn't help it. Kids always were a weak spot for him. Squatting down, he made himself eye level with the boy.
"Hey, you must be Tristan, that right?"
"Yef." the boy answered. He apparently hadn't grasped the concept of the letter s, as of yet.
"Hey Tristan, I'm Stiles. Can you tell me what's wrong?"
"Toof hurt. Toof hurt bad."
The boy opened his mouth and Stiles could see that one of his baby teeth was poking through. That would explain it. To an adult, it would've been a minor annoyance. To a three year old, any pain was worth crying over. He knew just what to do.
"Hey buddy, don't cry. Let's go into the kitchen and I'll help you."
Tristan made grabby hands at Stiles. It was the three year old way of asking to be picked up. Stiles obliged and hefted the boy into his arms. He was a lot heavier than he looked. Tristan settled ever so slightly. The boy buried his face into Stiles' neck and sniffled slightly. Well, it was progress. At least he had stopped crying. Child in hand, Stiles went back towards the fridge and pushed the ice dispenser on the freezer section. Catching a piece of ice was a little difficult seeing as he was holding a three year old. But he managed to grab a piece. As gently as possible, he rubbed the ice over Tristan's gums. The effect was instant. The boy responded by sucking on the ice with fervor. It was an old trick Stiles' own mother had used on him many a times. It reduced the swelling around the emerging tooth, and allowed for a brief respite from the pain. It would wear off in thirty minutes or so. But it would be long enough for Laura to find some children's Tylenol.
Tristan fell asleep after only a few minutes, leaving Stiles with an armful of slumbering toddler. He was only mildly annoyed. In the back of his mind, he's always wondered what it was like to have siblings. His parents never talked about having another child. And after his mother's death, his father was a different man. It had been nearly seven years, and he still wore his wedding band. There wasn't a day he left the house without it. Stiles was never angry at him for it. He still kept all of his mother's clothes. All of her jewelry. There were plenty of things left behind that held the memory of her. Things that kept him from completely moving on. He knew it wasn't healthy. That he should relinquish his hold on them. But it was a lot easier said than done. His mother had been his light. His joy. His everything.
Tristan shuffled in his sleep, disturbing Stiles from his thoughts. The boy was sound asleep, not even concerned that he had done so in the arms of a complete stranger. Speaking of, a stranger had walked into the kitchen. Stiles hadn't heard him at all. He was Stiles' height, only with about three times the muscle. The man had to be in his mid-twenties, raven black hair, and a jawline that was carved by angels. He would've been beautiful had his features not been twisted in anger. Nostrils flared, hazel green eyes blow wide. It was quite clear that he was ten different levels of pissed.
"Who are you!?" the man asked with a raised voice. Tristan moved ever so slightly at the sudden noise. Stiles rocked him a little while trying to find a way to answer the man.
"Um, hi. Sorry. I'm Stiles, Isaac's friend. The kid that Laura was bringing here. She said to help myself to anything in the kitchen."
"I don't think she was talking about her son. Who also happens to be my nephew."
"Yeah, this does look a bit…odd. Tristen was crying about his tooth. So I gave him some ice to suck on. It worked and he kind of passed out in my arms. Please don't kill me."
The man's anger didn't relent. If anything, it grew stronger. Stiles could swear his saw his eyes tinge red for the briefest of seconds. Stiles was relatively sure that the man wouldn't try to harm him while he was holding Tristan. But judging by the way he was shaking, it was a solid idea. If anything he looked like he was three seconds away from snatching Tristan out of his hands just so he could punch him in the face. Thankfully, help came swiftly in the form of Laura. She was dressed in a loose fitting t-shirt and bicycle shorts. It was odd compared to the business attire she had been wearing hours earlier. At this point, he didn't care what she was wearing. So long as she saved him from the enraged man in front him.
"Derek, what's wrong?"
So this was Laura's brother. He was older than Stiles expected, and certainly as beautiful as she was. If he wasn't so angry, Stiles might've been a little more eased by that fact. Laura turned to Stiles, a look of understanding coming across her face. She just smiled and moved towards Stiles, unconcerned with her brother's anger.
"It seems you've met my little one. He didn't give you too much trouble? He can be iffy with new people."
"He was crying because of his toothache. I gave him some ice to suck on and he went to sleep right after. You might want to give him some kid's Tylenol or something." Stiles said handing the boy over.
"Huh, never would've thought of that. Where'd you learn that?"
"My mom. It was an old trick of hers."
"I'll have to thank her. We can have her and your dad over for dinner some time."
Stiles clamored up in an instant at Laura's suggestion. She didn't know. Why would she? Stiles had only met her today. She was too busy to notice, but Derek seemed to take note that something was off. His face softened and his body was free of tension. If anything, he looked sad himself.
"While I appreciate the offer, but I'm afraid that won't be possible."
"How so?" Laura asked.
"My mom died when I was eleven." Laura's face turned white at the realization of Stiles' words. In a mere seconds, he had made the conversation quite grim.
"Stiles, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to-."
"It's fine. Just hard to talk about sometimes is all."
Laura seemed to be at a loss for words, as was Derek. Stiles was shared in that regard. Today was supposed to be about giving someone a new home, a fresh start. A happy day. And Stiles had ruined it. Not intentionally, but he had ruined it nonetheless.
"Well, it's good to see that Tristan likes you. Normally I have to bribe him with sweets to behave around new people."
"Over consumption of sugar and trans fats is the leading cause of childhood obesity in America." Stiles said with a laugh. It had been a poor joke. He'd done in an attempt to diffuse the tension on the room. Laura and Derek both laughed just as Tristan started to wake.
"MAMMA!" the boy cried as he realized who was holding him.
"Inside voice little man. I see you've made a new friend. Good for you."
"Sriles is good. Made toof feel better." the boy said.
"It's pronounced Stiles, sweetie. But we can see him later. Let's go meet your new brother."
Tristan was excited as could be at the prospect. He seemed to forget his toothache. He hardly acknowledged Derek as he and Laura left the kitchen. Speaking of Derek, the man was back to tense and wound. He wasn't angry. But it was clear that he wasn't comfortable being alone with Stiles. That much was obvious.
"I'm sorry."
"What?" Stiles asked.
"I said I'm sorry. I shouldn't have reacted like that. It's just that….I'm kind of protective of Tristan. He doesn't have a fear of strangers like most kids. I'm worried that he'll run off and say hi to every stranger whenever we're out."
"Dude, don't worry about it. Totally get where you're coming from. Just happy that you didn't rip my head off." Stiles said while grinning.
"Don't call me dude." Derek said with that scowl of his.
"Okay dude Derek."
That one got the tiniest hint of a smile. Stiles gloated internally for that. Derek was a tight wound person. That he could see. So for Stiles to get that kind of reaction, it was certainly making up for all the awkwardness earlier.
"Thank you, for taking in Isaac. He needs this. After what he's been through, he needs somewhere stable where people treat him like a person. Not an inconvenience."
"Laura didn't mention anything of what happened to him." Derek said.
"His father was a drunken asshole. He'd broken Isaac's arm at least once. Most of the time, he locked him in a derelict freezer for hours at a time. He's ripped out his nails trying to get out. God knows what else happened in that house."
"Jesus." It was all Derek could say. There really wasn't much else to be said. Words couldn't describe the horrors that Isaac had endured. And Stiles had the feeling that he wasn't going to talk about it any time soon. Kids from those kinds of situations hardly ever did. At first anyway. It would take Isaac some time to open up. He hadn't said one word to Stiles about it. And he was the closest thing he had to a friend. Hopefully, he'd find some solace here. It was the best they could hope for. And in the end, hope was the greatest force of the human nature.
Derek tried his best not to be restless. Laura had told him of her registering as a foster parent some weeks ago. He didn't have any comment on the matter. At the time, he was under the impression that she wasn't actually going to foster anyone. That changed this morning when she casually woke him up, informing him of her doing just that. It was an anxiety inducing situation to say the least. There was no way in hell this kid was going to be a wolf. Even with the resources they had their disposal, Laura couldn't have guaranteed that. That meant in a matter of hours, a very human child would be entering their home. The home that, after so much fighting and toil, had finally been rebuilt.
It had taken Laura over a year to convince Derek to go through with it. They were happy in LA, but the alpha in her longed for the trees of Beacon Hills. Longed for their territory, the territory that had been lost so many years ago. After the events with Ennis, Derek didn't want to deny his sister anything. It had been his fault that they had to transplant themselves in the first place. It wasn't fair to James, and it certainly was fair to Tristan. Not to mention the fact that Cora would have to finish high school in a completely different part of California. She had just started to make friends. And because of Derek, she was torn away from all that. The least he could do was go along with it. He could be cordial and polite. It wasn't going to be that hard. That was the idea. Until he heard two cars pull up instead of just one.
Laura entered the house with two people. The first one reeked of fear and anxiety. It was sour in Derek's nose. The other, the other was very different. It was like summer and fall wrapped into one. Deep, sunshine things with notes of green fields and spice. Derek's wolf rumbled. Whoever this person was, they smelled fantastic. He ignored it. This person was human, it didn't matter how good they smelled. He heard Laura dismiss herself, telling he boy she'd brought home to go and pick a room. The other one, the nice smelling one, moved towards the kitchen. Derek resigned himself to stay where he was. There really wasn't a need to introduce himself. He'd meet the guy soon enough. They were going to be living together after all. That, and he was watching Tristan for James while he was working. Speaking of, the little devil managed to slip away. As he tended to do.
Derek made his way to the foyer where he knew Tristan was likely to be. Even though the shift hadn't come yet, he was already displaying signs of being a wolf. He responded more to scent than sound, able to recognize someone just by how they smelled. It was a sure sign. Laura was a torn on the matter. As a born wolf, it's almost always expected that they give birth to more wolves. But she wanted Tristan to be able to make his own choice in the matter. It was part of her reason for marrying James. He had been born human into a werewolf pack. He decided to remain so, though he did keep contact with his old pack. Laura wanted her children to be able to decide whether or not they wanted to be wolves. As of now, it was all but concreate that Tristan wasn't going to get that.
Derek moved towards the kitchen where the little devil was sure to be. What he found made his heart race. A stranger was holding Tristan in his arms, rocking the boy ever so gently. He couldn't have been more than seventeen. He was as tall as Derek with sunshine-whiskey eyes and more moles that he had time to count. But Derek didn't have time to be enamored with the young man's beauty. A stranger was holding his nephew. Barely holding back the shift, he demanded to know who he was. The boy reeked of fear and panic, and it showed in his scent. And it was the same scent that had entranced Derek earlier. It discomforted him to know that it had been soured because of him. But the boy was holding his nephew, spouting some nonsense about ice and a toothache.
Laura appeared seemingly from nowhere, as she always does. Seeing his alpha reach for his nephew, speaking to the boy with fondness, it helped. Derek recognized him as no longer being a threat. Better yet, the boy's scent returned no it's natural state, allowing Derek to bask in just how wonderful it was. His wolf rumbled with happiness. And something else. He shoved it down as far and as fast as he could. Now was not the time nor the place.
As it turns out, the boy's name was Stiles. Odd, but Derek had heard worse. If he had to hazard a guess, he surmised that it was most likely a nickname. He didn't stay long. The boy excused himself, exiting the house promptly. A slight blush creeping into his pale cheeks. Derek tried not to think too much into it. There was something else that needed attending to. He knew precisely why Laura had opted to bring the other boy, Isaac, into their home. And he wasn't going to have it. Not now, not ever.
She was in Tristan's room, putting him down for a nap. He had an erratic sleeping schedule. With James' work arrangement, it was suitable. She just left when Derek confronted her.
"I don't need him here. You know that."
"Derek, you're an alpha. Whether you like it or not, you need a pack of your own." Laura said firmly.
It wasn't a lie. Ever since he killed Ennis and became an alpha, he had been feeling the pull. The urge to make his own pack. He was ashamed of it. After the fire, Laura had inherited the title from their mother. She had stepped up to the plate and was alpha to him and Cora. Dutifully so. Despite dealing with the loss of their family. Despite only being nineteen. Derek was her loyal beta. He devoted himself to her. A penance for his sins. Now, it felt like it was selfish to want a pack. To no longer have to answer to her. He didn't want to be an alpha. He didn't want any part of it. But he was. There was no denying that.
"You're my pack. And my alpha."
"Derek, I love you. You know I do. But I stopped being your alpha the moment you became one. I'll never forgive myself for not fending off Ennis. That was my responsibility. Not yours. I failed you. Plain and simple."
Derek didn't have the words to respond to his sister. Her guilt compounded on top of his. The fact that she felt the failure was unforgivable. He was her beta. And he overstepped. Plain and simple. It was his fault. Not hers'. He was at fault for a lot of things. None of which were forgivable. He had resigned to that a long time ago.
"Isaac is perfect. His father was abusive and controlling. He needs someone to make him better. You can't stand there and tell me that he wouldn't jump at the opportunity to be like us. To be free of the fear of someone hurting him again. To have the power to defend himself. Derek, I'm asking you, do this. If not for yourself, then for Isaac. He would be the perfect beta."
"Then why don't you turn him?" he snapped.
"Because I have a pack. They may not all be here right now, but a pack they remain. You need one Derek. It makes you stable. It makes you whole. I know we can't ever have them back. But you need something to fill the void."
Her words stung worse than the flames that night. Their family was gone. Their parents. Their cousins. Even Peter was dead. After escaping the fire, he swore revenge on those who had hurt them. And he found it. Kate was dead, burned and buried. As was Peter. He took himself down with her. After they were gone, the Argent family all but crumbled under the weight of their crimes. Even Gerard's staunchest followers flew to the winds. The old man died cursing the Hale name. Derek still didn't feel any relief. His family was still dead. An echo in the night. A nightmare from which he couldn't wake. But Laura was right. There was a void in him. A gaping pit longing for something that word's couldn't describe. It was instinctual. The need, the want of pack. It still felt like a betrayal. Even if his sister was condoning it.
"Alright, I'll talk to the kid. But if he says no, we're going to have an issue."
"He won't. Trust me." Laura said with a sneer.
Derek huffed and annoyance, walking away from his sister. Might as well get it over with. Isaac was in his room, packing away his things. There was so little. So little of him that existed. It seemed that the boy only had a few bags of clothes. All of them were worn and tattered. There were no books, no posters. Nothing that indicated that he had any relevance except for what he could wear on his back. Save for one. A framed picture. It was a chestnut haired woman with eyes like the sea. The boy next to her was a wide grinned youth with the same hair, only much curlier. They must've been his mother and brother. Laura had mentioned that they were both dead. Now, with his father on trial for abuse, Isaac had no family left. Derek's wolf felt a certain pang of distress at that. To know that there was another person, another soul who could identify with that kind of pain. Laura was right, he'd make an excellent beta after all.
He knocked on the door, announcing himself. Isaac shot to attention, standing straight up. The boy reeked of anxiety and fear. It was an unpleasant scent to behold. But Derek was determined. He wanted this, and Isaac needed it. And it all started with five simple words.
"Isaac, I'm Derek. Laura's brother."
"Nice to meet you." the boy said.
"Can we talk for a second?" Isaac nodded and Derek let himself in the boy's room. He let his eyes flash red, not even bothering to beat around the bush. And that, was were things started to fall downhill. He just didn't have the hindsight to see it.