So, things are catching up with me and my writing time has dropped. Fortunately for you, I already had this chapter mostly finished before that happened. I have the next one planned out, and I've discovered this great speech recognition program on my computer, so if I'm lucky I might be able to keep up with semi-frequent updates by dictating while I'm doing quieter hands-on stuff. Most of the next chapter is actively planned, so I'm hoping to be able to finish it quickly despite the lack of time.

Chapter 6

"We should merge Packs," Derek's comment was mostly to give Scott something other than Jackson to focus on, though the thought had passed through his mind several times since they'd ended up mates.

Scott blinked, tipping his head back to look up at the taller Alpha. "Didn't we kind-of already do that?"

"I meant officially. Since your Pack is comprised of mostly normal humans—although I'm not entirely sure Stiles is even partly normal—Pack instinct won't extend from my Pack to yours without a little help."

"Huh," Scott considered, not giving the smile Derek had hoped for with his 'Stiles' comment. "Stiles is the only one who actually acknowledges it, since the whole thing with Allison's mom."

Derek frowned. That… wasn't good. Scott was driven to protect his Pack beyond anything Derek had before seen, but Pack refusing to acknowledge each other put a great deal of mental and emotional strain on werewolves. Since Scott was the only actual werewolf in his pack and the alpha, the humans were unlikely to realize the damage they were causing. His desire to protect them would include putting up a strong front.

That on top of Hunters and Kanima… it was a miracle Scott was still sane.

"Scott…" he didn't know what to say, how to explain. Scott wasn't a born, he hadn't been taught these things as a child.

"It's hard, you know?" Scott murmured, pressing his forehead to Derek's chest and taking comfort in the strong arms wrapped around him. "Mom's starting to—to acknowledge me, to accept the idea of 'Pack'. That helps." Melissa had backed down at the police station on Scott's word when a gun pointed at her face hadn't stopped her. The relief he'd felt in that moment hadn't just been for his mother's continued safety.

"Stiles does his best," Scott continued, "but… Lydia and Allison and Jackson…"

Derek tightened his arms, almost crushing the teen to his chest. "Scott," he murmured, "you may have to let them go. This is hurting you."

"I can't," Scott whispered, raw and pained. "I just… I can't."

Derek closed his eyes, somehow unable to refute the truth of that. Scott couldn't force himself to think of them as anything less than Pack. And it had to be tearing him up inside.

"It's… easier, somehow," Scott turned his head to press his ear above Derek's heart, letting the steady thumping drown out the sounds from inside the house, "with you here. It… doesn't hurt as much."

Derek pressed a kiss on the top of Scott's head, wishing he could somehow make this better.

"Come on," he said after another few moments of just holding his mate, offering what reassurance his presence could. "Let's get you inside, Scott."

xxxx

Stiles hovered anxiously as Derek guided Scott back inside, the younger Alpha clearly worn down and unhappy. Stiles couldn't help but move closer to his friend, wanting to offer support—and to his surprise, Derek didn't glare, growl, or do anything else unfriendly.

No. He nodded. A gesture of blatant acknowledgement and acceptance.

That seemed to be enough for the werewolves in the kitchen doorway to come and join Stiles in just being near the two Alphas, near enough that most humans would start to feel a little overwhelmed.

Scott didn't say anything, but something about him seemed to ease a bit as Stiles was crowded closer, ending up rubbing shoulders with his friend.

The wolves took that as an indication to move in, to touch Scott. A hand on a shoulder, another on an arm, a nervous grip on Scott's wrist—all three seemed to be trying to communicate something that they didn't have the words to express.

Stiles actually understood the feeling. The realization that his ever-protective friend/alpha/whatever saw Jackson as Pack and had just been told that Jackson could not be saved… yeah. He shuffled his feet a bit and pressed more firmly against Scott's shoulder, surprised when Derek adjusted his grip to allow it.

Scott slumped, leaning heavily against Derek's side, and the other werewolves made distressed sounds that matched Stiles' own worried "Scott?"

"He needs Pack right now," Derek explained quietly, herding the entire group back to the living room and settling himself and Scott on the couch, tugging a still-surprised Stiles down on Scott's other side.

Scott remained silent as he curled into Derek's side, one arm going to pull Stiles closer while the Isaac dropped down to sit at his feet.

Boyd pushed Isaac a little further to one side so he and Erica could settle against one of Scott's legs while Isaac used the other knee as a pillow.

Scott's tension eased, his breathing slowing and deepening as his eyes slipped closed.

Derek let out a breath, dropping his chin onto Scott's head, and they stayed like that for a long time.

xxxx

Chris Argent sat on the couch in his living room, completely alone in the house for the first time since his wife had… died. He hadn't even been given a chance to grieve, and now that he was by himself, he let himself wonder how things could have gone so horrifyingly wrong.

If Gerard hadn't come… god help him, but he couldn't help but place some of the blame on his father. If the man hadn't come, he might still have his wife. His daughter might still have her mother. It should have ended with Kate.

Kate and Peter. When he'd found out what Kate had done… yes, he could see why Peter had been so angry. He could see why the werewolf had gone so mad as to go on a vengeance streak, although it pointed to his mental instability that he'd killed a member of his own family for the power to attain that vengeance.

Chris frowned, remembering the night that his sister and her killer had both died. Derek Hale and Scott McCall, the only other two werewolves in the area at that time, had fought a losing battle to protect Chris and Allison even after Kate had been killed.

Derek did not place blame on family simply because one of them had wronged him. When he'd realized that Chris had genuinely not known about Kate's involvement in the Hale Fire, he had summarily started to ignore the Argent family as long as they posed no direct threat.

That bothered Chris more than he'd like to admit. Not the fact that Derek didn't seem to have an interest in hurting him or his family, but the fact that the Hale had bitten Victoria. He wasn't stupid—he had to have known it would only turn the Hunter family directly against him. And Chris had seen enough of the Hale Alpha to know that, despite his bravado, he would rather run than kill if the opportunity arose.

Derek wasn't some remorseless killer, and he had to have known that Victoria would never let herself become a werewolf.

So why had he done it?

Chris rubbed his forehead, a visible indication of his distress that he rarely gave. The fact that Victoria had not told him where she had gone that night or what exactly had happened—and he'd been far too distracted by the Bite to think to ask directly—did not sit well with him.

He knew she would have told him if the blame could have been laid solely on the Alpha's shoulders, which meant she had put herself into the situation deliberately. She had been the one to place herself in danger, attacking either Derek Hale himself or a member of his Pack—those were the only possible reasons he could think of for the werewolf to bite her.

Chris stood abruptly, trying to put the thoughts out of his mind. Despite his suspicions, he was furious with the Hale Alpha. No matter why he'd done it, Derek had still played a very large part in his wife's death, and he wasn't sure he could ever forgive that.

Still, there was one lingering thought: What if it wasn't his fault?

xxxx

"Feeling better?"

Scott glanced up at Derek and gave a lopsided half-smile, shifting to sit more under his own power. "Mostly."

Stiles mumbled something incoherent and flopped off Scott's other shoulder to tip towards his lap only to jerk awake with a yelp and tumble completely off the couch, landing on Isaac.

That started a chain reaction. Isaac had been half-sitting, half-lying, his weight spread across Scott's shin and Boyd's back. When Stiles fell on him, he jerked awake and sideways all at once, sending a still-waking Boyd toppling over onto Erica's head. Erica's waking response to the sudden suffocating weight on her face was to extend her fangs and bite. Boyd's reaction to the sudden sting in his side was to call out claws that raked across Isaac's arm and Isaac shied halfway across the room and spun around with a snarl, eyes glinting gold even as Stiles tumbled the rest of the way to the carpet.

Fortunately for everyone involved, the only injuries were inflicted to quick-healing werewolves and pride, everyone settling down as they reached full awareness.

Scott wasn't sure whether to laugh or groan. That had been utterly ridiculous.

Minor injuries forgotten, all three werewolves joined Stiles in questioning Scott's wellbeing while Derek watched them with something close to a smile.

"Really, guys," Scott assured for the umpteenth time, "I'll be okay."

Stiles, recognizing that the answer wasn't going to change and was probably the truth, glanced around.

Then his eyes caught the clock on the wall, "Holy crap," he yelped, "I told Dad I'd be home an hour ago! Where's my phone?"

Stiles scrambled madly for his jacket, searching for his missing cellphone, and Scott reached over to pull his own cell from Derek's pocket.

Derek raised an eyebrow at him.

Scott shrugged and dialed Stiles' home phone, waiting a few moments for the Sheriff to pick up. "Hey, Sheriff Stilinski. Stiles is still here. We… uh, kind of fell asleep. He's looking for his phone right now, but he'll be home soon."

"Fell asleep?"

"Um, yeah. I'm still getting over being sick and I guess Stiles just zonked on the couch after I fell asleep, because he woke up and started freaking out at the time."

Scott could practically hear the rolled eyes. "I'll take your word for it. Thanks for letting me know."

"Sure thing," Scott smiled a bit when the line went dead. That was Stiles' dad, all right. Always efficient, whether or not it was actually needed, and usually sarcastic to boot.

Stiles let out a triumphant crow, snatching his phone from between the cushion and the arm of the couch, immediately starting to punch in his dad's number. Scott snagged the phone away from him and deleted the already-typed numbers before handing it back at an indignant squawk. "I already called him, Stiles. Just go home."

Stiles blinked at Scott for a moment, then took in the blatantly amused looks he was getting from all the other werewolves. "Right. Thanks, man," he was only half-sarcastic. Then, apparently feeling somewhat vengeful for being turned into the current source of amusement, he reached out and ruffled Scott's hair into an unruly puff before scampering to the door with a cheerful, "Bye, guys!"

xxxx

Three hours later, Scott closed his Chemistry book and dropped it onto his desk with a surprisingly loud bang.

Derek started to his feet sharply, eyes flashing red as the book he'd been reading fell from hands coming up as if to attack. He caught it before it fell more than a foot, eyes dimming back to hazel even as he gave an exasperated growl.

Scott flushed, "Sorry. Didn't mean it to be that loud."

Isaac appeared in the open doorway, blinking at the two Alphas as he glanced around the room. "I get that nothing too bad just happened," he said after a moment, "but what was that sound?"

Derek gestured towards Scott, "He dropped his textbook on the desk."

"What?" Scott sounded a little defensive. "I just caught up in Chemistry. I was expecting a satisfying 'thump', not a resounding 'bang'."

Derek rolled his eyes, but Isaac laughed.

"Anyway," Scott continued, shoving back from the desk and standing, "Mom'll be home in an hour or so. I'm going to start making dinner."

Isaac perked up, "I'll help!"

Derek made a sound suspiciously like a chuckle as he dropped his book onto the green chair he'd been sitting in before the startle, moving to follow Isaac and Scott downstairs. Five minutes later, the three of them were poking through the kitchen and pantry for ingredients, intending to have a meal ready and waiting when Scott's mom got home.

xxxx

Melissa sighed as she climbed out of her car, not sure whether she wanted food or sleep more. It had been a long day, a restaurant kitchen-fire bringing in three burn victims and quite a few people suffering from smoke inhalation on top of the usual, everyday illnesses and injuries.

It wouldn't have been that bad—no one had died during her shift, which was always a good thing—but one of the cooks had asthma as severe as Scott's had once been and the smoke had done her no favors. The nebulizer hadn't helped as much as the doctor had hoped and she'd had to be put on oxygen for over an hour before her breathing had returned to something close to normal.

Melissa had found herself remembering a time when a younger Scott had suffered similarly, and that only from a brief instance of campfire-smoke blowing the wrong way. The memory had been followed by relief at the thought that she no longer had to fear her son would suffocate on dry land, then a sharp worry that something supernatural would snatch him away.

Knowing Scott was a werewolf had both decreased her old worries and added quite a few new ones. The creature from the police station had been terrifying; the knowledge that Scott was now part of a world she'd once thought belonged in horror stories even more so. And he was hiding something from her.

She knew that she was his mother and he was a teenage boy and some secrets were to be expected, but she had the uneasy feeling that whatever it was that he was hiding was dangerous. Throughout the day, she'd found the fact that he had Derek with him was actually reassuring. She knew the older werewolf wasn't going to stand by while anything threatened her son.

"Mom?" Scott's voice broke through her musing.

Melissa blinked and realized she had no idea how long she'd been standing with one hand on the still-open car door. "Oh. I must be more tired than I thought," she smiled at her son and pushed the door shut, moving around the car to make her way into the house.

Scott stepped aside to allow her past him, closing the door to the house after following her inside.

"Mm," Melissa smiled, "Something smells wonderful. Did you cook dinner?"

Scott grinned at her, though she could still see a hint of concern in his eyes, "Not by myself. Derek and Isaac did a lot of the work."

"Well. I could get used to this," she was only half teasing.

"Hey, Ms. McCall," Isaac greeted, waving an oven-mitt covered hand as she walked into the kitchen.

Melissa waved back with an easy smile, dropping into the chair that Derek pulled out from the kitchen table for her, "Thank you, boys. This is a wonderful surprise."

Derek shrugged, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "It's the least we can do, considering."

Melissa gave him a pat on the arm, smiling, "Well, thank you anyway."

Scott grinned, then leaned over with a hand exaggeratedly hiding his mouth as he stage-whispered, "Just say 'you're welcome', Derek."

Melissa chuckled, waving off the clearly uncomfortable werewolf before he could do as he was told. "Really, it's sweet of you boys. Shall we?"

In minutes, plates were filled and the four were settled to eat, Melissa smiling softly at how much this felt like family.

xxxx