A/N: Thanks to my Beta: any-otp-will-do

The Sheriff stood there with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. He laughed a little. "Is this some kind of joke?"

Dean shook his head. "No Sheriff, I'm completely serious. - Derek Hale's a werewolf."

"Werewolves don't exist!" he snapped furiously. "And I don't have time for this nonsense." he turned to leave.

"The mountain lion attacks four months ago. You knew something was off with that." Deaton said to his retreating back.

The Sheriff snapped around. "Are you saying that Derek killed those people?"

"No. - It was a rogue wolf, but Derek, Scott and Stiles dealt with it."

The Sheriff stared at him again, his brain hardly able to take in what the man was saying. "How many? How many are there?"

Deaton met his furious and confused gaze. "World-wide or in Beacon Hills?"

"Here. How many are there in my town."

Deaton straightened his back. "Including Derek and Scott….six."

The Sheriff's mouth fell open. "Scott? - Scott McCall's a werewolf?"

Deaton nodded slowly. "He was bitten by the rogue, but Derek and Stiles have been helping him control it."

"Control? You mean so he doesn't kill people."

Deaton didn't answer.

"Who else? I want names."

Deaton tightened his lips.

"I want to know who's a danger to my town."

"None of them are a danger to Beacon Hills."

"Then give me their names!" The Sheriff shouted. "Are you…." he backed away.

Deaton sighed. "No…I'm just a vet."

"Who knows about werewolves?"

Deaton smiled and shrugged.

"Is Stiles?" The Sheriff suddenly snapped, as if it suddenly occurred to him.

Deaton shook his head. "No. And that may be why the pack have pushed him away, for his own safety, after Jackson was killed."

The Sheriff stumbled backward against the doorframe, his head spinning. "Who shot Jackson Whitmore?"

Deaton looked sadly at the examination table. "We don't know. It was probably a hunter."

"Hunter?"

"There are people out there, Sheriff, who hunt werewolves and kill them."

It was like months, and years of questions were finally getting answers. "The Hale fire? - Kate Argent?"

Deaton nodded. "The Argent's are hunter."

The Sheriff stared at his boots, unable to process what he was being told. Werewolves, Hunters. It was all insane, yet it made sense. "And Stiles knows all about this?" he whispered more to himself than the vet.

"Yes." Deaton answered anyway. "He actually took the whole thing incredibly well. I hate to say it, Sheriff, but better than you are right now. - He's been a tower of strength and help to Scott and Derek, and the pack. - I don't know what they're going to do without him. - Sheriff, I know this is a lot to get your head around, but I can promise you neither Derek nor Scott, or any of the pack, would let anything happen to Stiles. That's why their currently pining. They'd rather be miserable than risk his life again."

Sheriff pushed himself off the wall, turned and strolled out of the room, his whole being feeling numb with shock, anger and confusion. Deaton stared after him. The Vet pulled his phone out of his pocket and typed out a message.

To: Derek

Message: I hope you don't live to regret this Derek.

Inbox: Derek.

It had to be done.

It was about time he knew.

~SEA OF TROUBLES~

Stiles found himself with a new shadow as Ash practically followed him everywhere. It took a while, half the school day, to get used to having someone at his side that wasn't Scott, but he found himself almost forgetting he was missing his best friend. Ash had the same taste in movies and comics; she totally got his pop culture references and jokes; all in all she was another Scott. That however didn't stop it hurting every time he saw or heard Scott laughing with Allison or Isaac. As much as he liked Ash, Scott was his best friend, even if he was currently ignoring him every second of the day.

"So you want to come to my place to study?" Ash asked as they strolled out of the school building.

"Nah, sorry, I've got stuff to do with my dad. Maybe another night."

Ash smiled at him and Stiles was grateful to have someone around how (who) couldn't tell when he was telling little while lies. - Or huge big ones. "That's cool. - I'll see you….wow, hottie alert." Ash grinned, her gaze trailing across the parking lot.

Stiles followed her line of sight and felt his stomach clench tight as he saw Derek stood by the Camaro. A foolish ridiculous part of Stiles hoped he was there to beg forgiveness, to sweep him off to make out point. His dreams were dashed through when Erica and Boyd appeared and climbed into the black car. Stiles let out a wary, pained sound and bit his lower lip. There was a brief moment when Derek looked his way, their eyes locking before the man tore them away and headed for the driver's seat.

"Wow, no wonder this place isn't on a map." Ash whispered.

Stiles frowned down at her.

"You want to keep all the sexy hot guys to yourselves." she smirked, only for it to vanish upon seeing the paling of Stiles face. "Are you okay?"

"Fine. I've got to go. Sorry." Stiles rushed off without another word, almost running to his jeep. He yanked the door open, climbed in and slammed it shut, then he let his head fall forwards to slam against the steering wheel. Tears burned his eyes and his heart thundered.

It took him at least ten minutes to calm himself enough to start the car and head out of the parking lot. He got home to find his dad's cruiser in the driveway and frowned. His dad wasn't meant to be home for at least another three hours. Worry clawed at his insides and he jumped out of the jeep and rushed into the house to find his dad, still in uniform, sat at the kitchen table going through papers. His face was tight and red.

"Dad? You okay?"

The Sheriff didn't say anything for a while; he continued to shuffle through papers, grunting and cursing under his breath. Stiles dropped his school bag and took a wary step into the room.

"Dad?"

"You should have told me Stiles. Right away. How many people died because I didn't know what I was looking for?"

Stiles stomach dropped and his head spun, his heart hammering beneath his ribs. "Huh, Dad, what do you….?"

"Don't!" The Sheriff snapped, turning furious eyes on his son. "Don't play dumb with me! I think you've done enough of that, don't you?"

Stiles flinched at the anger in his dad voice. "I…I…Dad, it wasn't…."

"What?" the man snapped, shoving his chair back as he got up. "It wasn't what Stiles?"

"It wasn't my secret to tell."

"People died!"

Stiles flinched. He knew that; he already had that on his conscious. "We tried to stop it. We did."

"You should have told me!"

"And you would have believed me? If I'd come to you and said it was a Kanima killing those people?"

"A what?" The Sheriff glared.

Stiles swallowed. Had his dad been talking about something else? Shit, had he just put his foot in it again?

"What the hell's a Kanima? - I'm talking about a werewolf! - God, I'm talking about werewolves." the Sheriff shook his head, turning to sit down again. "I can't believe this."

Stiles sucked in a breath. Okay so he hadn't completely put his foot in it. His dad knew about the werewolves, just not the Kanima. Wait how exactly did…. "Dad, how do you even know about werewolves?" he frowned.

The Sheriff threw back the last of his Jack Daniels and turned to stare at his son. "Your…I went to see Derek Hale."

"Derek told you?" he said with wide eyes.

"He sent me to Dr. Deaton. He told me." he sighed, his anger dissipating a little.

"Oh." Stiles cautiously moved towards his dad, pulling out a chair and taking a seat. "I wanted to tell you Dad, but…well, one: you wouldn't have believed me. - And two: I had to protect Scott and…well, the pack."

"From me?" his dad frowned, a hurt look in his eyes.

Stiles shrugged. "There were people dying dad, and you were a little desperate. I…" he hung his head in shame. "I…wasn't sure you'd listen to reason. - The Argents don't."

The Sheriff sucked in a pained breath. "You're my son Stiles. I admit I probably wouldn't have believed you at first, but…." he shook his head. "…I can't believe you'd think I wouldn't listen. - I've known Scott for years, Stiles, I wouldn't have just shot him on sight." he said, angry again.

"Sorry. - But you already suspected Derek."

"With due cause."

Stiles shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. - But Scott was still freaking out, and well…the last thing I wanted was to freak you out too."

The Sheriff ran a hand through his hair. "I can't believe any of this is happening." he sighed.

Stiles slumped in his seat.

They sat in silence for a long while, just staring at the pile of papers on the table top.

"So…Werewolves?" the Sheriff finally said.

"'Fraid so."

"Kanima?" he frowned.

Stiles shrugged. "Kinda lizardy things, when werewolf bites go bad. - Though it wasn't Jackson's fault, he was being control by Matt and then Gerald Argent."

The Sheriff stared. "Jackson? Jackson Whitmore was a Kan-a-ma?"

"At first, then he was just a plan ordinary werewolf. - Before he…." Stiles trailed off.

"Who else?"

Stiles looked at his day uncertainly.

"I just want to know who they are Stiles."

There was a long silence.

"Why do you want to know?" Stiles asked cautiously.

"So I can keep an eye on them."

"Why, in case they start killing people? There not like that. Derek wouldn't let that happen!" Stiles snapped.

The Sheriff stared in surprise at his son. "Stiles…."

"I won't risk the pack dad. They're my friends. They're family. - I know they've kicked me out, but that doesn't mean I'm just going to hand them over."

"Family?" The Sheriff frowned.

Stiles flushed. "I'm sorry Dad, but…."

"Stiles!" the Sheriff whispered, bemused by his son's rant.

There was a tense moment, the pair just staring at each other. The Sheriff took a harsh breath. "Stiles, I'm not going to hurt them, as long as they don't hurt anyone. - But Deaton said there were people out there wanting Derek and his…pack dead. Jackson's already been killed, do you really want risk your friends lives?"

Stiles watched his father, weighing up what to do. It wasn't that he didn't trust his dad—he did— but there was a part of him, a small part that was scared. He saw hurt flicker in his father's eyes again and his stomach rolled. "Erica, Boyd and Isaac." he murmured.