Pain Is the Enemy of Empathy
The sheriff rescues Stiles from Gerard, but can he save himself (and Stiles and Derek) from the Alpha Pack?
The sheriff stopped well away from the old still. He wasn't out of breath (which was nice) but he was sweaty (which wasn't). He stretched and paced a little, letting himself cool down. He wasn't sure if he needed it, now he was a werewolf, but he did not need to get a muscle cramp in the coming showdown with Gerard. Also, appearing too anxious or accommodating would weaken his ability to negotiate. He had to be calm, in control—firm but fair. He couldn't do that if sweat ran into his eyes.
He opened some buttons on his shirt to encourage drying as he walked the final distance to the shed. The light was failing, but dimness was something else that didn't bother him anymore.
He smelled them before he arrived.
Stiles and Gerard.
Stiles' scent was reassuringly vibrant even though he could smell blood. Gerard's scent was old, thin, with that sour overlay that Noah finally identified as hospitals and medicine.
He thought about that smell, wondered what it meant. If Gerard was ill…
Well, it didn't actually explain anything now, but it might later.
He turned on Astiago's phone and set it to record. He hoped the hunters were all too cautious or too confident to search him. Then, with a final steadying breath, he walked—hands held away from his body—into the no-longer abandoned shed.
Argent's two helpers were stationed in obvious spots inside the structure, well away from where Gerard stood. They'd set up battery-powered work lights that cast harsh blobs of light on the rusted tin walls. They would make night vision goggles useless.
Against the north wall, Stiles hung from a ceiling beam. Thick chains lifted his arms above his head, but his feet were on the floor. He was gagged—a cloth shoved roughly into his mouth. There was blood on his cheek from a scrape, some on his knuckles and his knees. He'd either fought or tried to run. One of the loops went around his neck. It was hooked to a post, and Gerard's men stood close by ready to pull it tight to strangle his son. His 16-year-old son.
How could anyone think this was right? That it was justified in any way.
Still, Stiles was alive. The sheriff would concentrate on that and not his growing desire to rip Gerard's guts out. His hands went to his waist, but his bulky service belt wasn't there. He ground his teeth and reminded himself that he was still the sheriff first and a werewolf second.
He walked into the shed until he was level with Gerard's minions. He could watch them with his peripheral vision. It wasn't a great tactic, but it was better than having his back to them.
"Mr. Argent," he kept his voice cordial, as if this was a routine traffic stop and nothing more, nothing more.
"You made good time," Gerard said. "I've heard being a werewolf can cure most things. Now I believe it."
"On the phone, you indicated that you needed something from me." In the corner, Stiles made noises behind his gag. Noah carefully didn't look at him. "I'm here. I'm listening."
"Screw your hostage negotiation bullshit," Gerard growled. "It makes me sick that you think you're a cop."
"I kind of got the impression that you were already sick." Again, the sheriff kept his voice mild. Hell, if his official reasonableness could force Gerard into making a mistake, he'd try to channel Andy Griffin. Unfortunately, his question didn't push Gerard into a frenzy; it steadied him.
"Then you know." Gerard stared at Noah. Noah looked back, eyes and face neutral. "It was outside the restaurant, wasn't it. You could smell it." He nodded. "I thought I saw something in your eyes."
Over by Stiles, one of Gerard's henchmen shifted. "What're you talking about?" he asked. Gerard ignored him.
"He's dying," Noah announced to Gerard's men.
Gerard looked amused even as his two henchmen made noises of surprise and concern. They shifted closer to each other, but they didn't move away from Stiles. Damnit.
"I am dying. I have been for a while now," Gerard nodded once in confirmation. "Unfortunately, science doesn't have a cure for cancer yet. But the supernatural does."
"Bite of an alpha." Realizing Gerard's master plan, the sheriff shook his head in disbelief. "You want me to bite you."
"What?" one of the henchmen shouted. "You can't do that."
Gerard gave the sheriff a small grin. He took a gun from his pants and—calmly and efficiently—shot both his men. He looked back at Noah. "I can do whatever I want."
Stiles had been close enough that some of the brain matter spattered him. He writhed, helpless to either scream or escape. Gerard shifted his arm until the gun pointed at Noah's son. The sheriff felt the itch in his gums and in the tips of his toes and fingers. He wanted to shift so badly.
Gerard smiled as if he knew Noah would lose the battle.
A panel from the back wall flew in with a metallic warble and a tiny cyclone of dusty air.
Gerard spun around, gun aimed and ready.
"Hello, Gerard."
The voice was smooth and British. The body attached to the voice was a slim, white male with sunglasses over his eyes. Noah recognized him from the description. Other people filed in with Deucalion, and the sheriff had no difficulty in identifying Kali and the twins, which meant the last one was Ennis.
"You!" Gerard spat, and he fired directly at the Alpha Pack leader.
Ennis jumped in front of Deucalion, swearing and howling as the bullet burrowed in.
The hunter turned back to Noah. "I told you not to bring your dogs with you!" Then he was shooting his gun at Stiles.
In the moment it took him to change his stance from casual to ready-to-jump, Noah already knew he was moving too slow. The bullet would hit his son, and he would kill Gerard, and everything he believed in himself would die.
Except Derek was there. Doing exactly what Ennis had done for Deucalion, except Derek didn't swear. He just let out a little grunt as he was hit. Stiles shouted behind his gag and squirmed inside his chains, but he could do nothing.
Gerard didn't have the chance for a second shot. Noah was already there, wrenching the weapon from the old man's grasp and tossing it to the side. He twisted Gerard's arm up behind his back—not too much pressure, but enough to take him to the ground. Noah just needed to keep the hunter immobile. "I need handcuffs," he said loudly, hoping they'd be able to hear him at field command.
Deucalion nodded towards Derek and Stiles. The twins shifted to obey.
The Alpha of the Alpha Pack stepped forward, easily avoiding the debris both new and old, despite the sunglasses and white cane. "That won't be necessary, sheriff."
There was a tone in the man's voice that had all of Noah's hackles rising. "You're right," he said. "I brought zip-ties." He matched deed to words and grabbed a heavy tie from his cargo pocket. Beneath him, Gerard squirmed and shouted. Noah had one knee pressed in the center of his back. He leaned on it a little harder. It only took a moment to have Gerard quiet, and his wrists secure.
"All you have to do is leave, and all your problems will disappear," Deucalion crooned.
"That doesn't sound exactly legal," he replied, lifting Gerard to his feet and marching him to the post that had recently kept his boy secure. The twin werewolves had broken the chain and Stiles was leaning over Derek, using a cellphone to light up Derek's injury. He was holding himself carefully, but not as if seriously injured—bruises rather than broken bones or internal bleeding.
"How's Derek?" he asked as he dragged Gerard to one of the heavy worktables.
"I'm fine," Derek ground out.
"Not great," Stiles answered more truthfully. "Grandpa used a wolfsbane bullet."
Deucalion gave a dramatic shudder. "Barbaric."
"I can fix him," Stiles continued. "I just need a bullet with the same kind of wolfsbane."
The sheriff looked at one of the twins and nodded at a dark corner of the shack. "I tossed his gun over there." The twin looked confused, wondering why the sheriff was talking to him.
"Get it and give it to Stiles." They looked between Noah and Deucalion. Deucalion didn't even glance at them, so one of the boys scuttled over to the gun.
Noah looked at the leader of the Alpha Pack. "Once he's done Derek, he can treat your man. Ennis, was it?" The sheriff didn't care if there was a hint of censure in his voice. It was telling that Deucalion hadn't acknowledged the wolf who'd taken a bullet for him.
A corner of Deucalion's lips turned up, acknowledging the rebuke, but not caring. "Ethan will take care of Ennis."
The young alpha next to Stiles looked surprised and scared. From that look alone, Noah figured Ethan and his brother had the least power amongst the alphas. They probably weren't put in charge of much, and he would guess that the penalties for doing something wrong were unpleasant.
Noah didn't want to have his hands full of Gerard if it came down to a confrontation between him and the other alpha. He grabbed the chain dangling from the crossbeam, wrapped it around Gerard a couple times, and used another zip-tie to secure him to the worktable. It wasn't great, but hopefully it wouldn't have to hold him for long. His people should already be heading in.
The sheriff straightened, hands automatically lifted to adjust his belt—which wasn't there. Turning his back on the old threat, he faced the new. "Now, Mr. Deucalion—"
"Just Deucalion." Kali, still standing beside the Alpha Pack leader sneered at him. She didn't need fangs to make it threatening.
The sheriff ignored the teeth and walked forward, hand out to shake. "We haven't been properly introduced. I'm Noah Stilinski, Sheriff of Beacon County."
"I know who you are," Deucalion said dismissively. Noah let his hand drop.
"The thing is, Deucalion, Kali—" He nodded at the female alpha. "None of you have done anything against the law, as of yet, so I've got no reason to detain you or interfere in your business—"
"Then you'll step aside," Deucalion smiled.
The sheriff shook his head a little. "I can't let you commit a felony."
"It wouldn't be a felony," Kali growled. "It would be justice."
"Vigilante justice is still a felony."
"Do you know how many of us he has killed," Deucalion asked. "Without hesitation or remorse?"
"If he's like his daughter, I imagine the total is quite high," the sheriff agreed. "However, considering the rumors around how you all formed the Alpha Pack, I don't think you're in any position to demand his execution." From his corner, Gerard yelled that they were all "murdering animals".
Deucalion opened his mouth to make some remark back, but Noah lifted his finger. "One sec." He pulled Astiago's phone from his pocket and called Tara who was working field command.
"You had a phone in your pocket? Knowing my terms, knowing I wouldn't hesitate!" Gerard was outraged.
"First rule of survival," Stiles repeated. "Be prepared and have backup."
"How does it feel to know your father values his job more than you?" Argent spat at Stiles. The sheriff turned his head in time to catch Stiles rolling his eyes. His son noticed him watching and gave him a thumb's up.
Stiles understood. It shouldn't have been so relief-inducing, but it was.
"Sheriff," Tara Graeme's voice was filled with relief. The call hissed and crackled, and she sounded like she was in South America rather than at the office on Joonas Road, but it was still a connection.
There was thick, blue-ish smoke rising from Derek's wound. He'd have to ask Stiles about it later. "Hey, Graeme. How long until my back-up arrives?"
"-ey headed out near- -ifteen min- ago."
Fifteen minutes. The sheriff did some quick calculations in his head. The old moonshine still was purposefully remote, with only the one track in or out. His people would be carrying gear over rough terrain. Maybe another ten minutes for the first wave to reach him.
"Let them know that Argent and his men are no longer a threat," he said. "However, there are new actors on location, and they're enhanced."
"Copy -at, Sheriff." Now she sounded worried.
"So far, we're just talking. I'll try to keep it that way."
"I'll lea- - line open, - monitor unt- battery goes," she said.
"Copy that." It was sweet that she was going to keep listening, but he doubted that she'd be able to hear anything. Still... He made sure to lock the screen before putting it in his shirt pocket. That way he wouldn't accidentally end the call.
"You are resourceful," Deucalion said. It was almost a compliment. Or would've been if the werewolf hadn't sounded so surprised. "But if you think one barely functioning cell phone will stop me..." Deucalion tipped his head, and Kali stretched out her claws.
The sheriff let out a sigh. He shook his head sadly, as he took stock of what he was facing. Derek was shaky, but on his feet. He was sticking close to Stiles, which Noah appreciated.
Ennis was still down, but Ethan and his brother were breaking open a bullet, which had something to do with the wolfsbane cure, so he could be up in no time. He was an alpha, so he'd probably recover faster, but he'd still be shaky for a bit. That left Kali and Deucalion as his current primary opposition.
"As I said before, I can't let you commit a felony. I can assure you, however, that considering he shot two of his people in front of me, while I was recording, he is facing serious charges—"
"Do you really think having him locked up will be suitable recompense for this!" Deucalion ripped off his sunglasses revealing burned-out pits where his eyes should have been. It was brutal and ugly and one of the worst things the sheriff had seen. IEDs and mortars would tear your body apart, but they were random, untargeted. Deucalion's eyes had been completely personal.
The sheriff's heart rate jumped as he realized he was unlikely to be able to negotiate or trick his way out of this one. And that his people, as heavily armed as they would be, were probably no match for five angry alphas with a grudge.
"You were a fool!" Gerard sneered from his seat under the table. "As if we'd treat with dogs."
Both the sheriff and Deucalion ignored the hunter. Stiles, however, wasn't as discreet. "Wow," he said. "You really are a racist dick."
Noah flinched internally. It was the right sentiment, but he really didn't need his all-too-human son calling attention to himself. He wanted to order Stiles to leave, to run away and find the team of police that were approaching. Anything, to keep him safe. Noah contained himself to a mild "Language, Stiles."
To Deucalion he said, "I'm sorry for what happened to you. If you want to press charges, we would be happy to take your statement."
"Press charges?" both Deucalion and Gerard said in response, but where Gerard's shout was one of disbelief, Deucalion's was edging into furious.
The sheriff shifted his stance, bringing his hands down off his waist but keeping it open. "What he did was assault, possibly attempted manslaughter—"
"He's not a man! And I wasn't trying to kill him," Gerard shouted, not helping the situation any.
Again, Noah ignored him. "As he's essentially admitted to the assault, and considering the other crimes he's committed today, I'm pretty confident the county prosecutor will be able to make a case for you." His hands were clammy. His senses had sharpened enough to hear the trees outside moving in the light breeze.
'C'mon,' the sheriff wished without hope. 'Go for the deal.'
"We don't want the Argents in jail," Ennis said with a laugh. The alpha was climbing slowly to his feet, moving as if every joint hurt, but unfortunately, he was moving. The twins were standing behind him—standing quite a ways back from him, actually. Wasn't that interesting.
"I remember you," the sheriff said to Ennis. "Eight years ago, at the morgue." The guy had been so angry, so desperate to see his beta, that nothing else really mattered. Noah hadn't understood the sheer loss Ennis had experienced. He had a better idea now.
"You didn't let me see him."
"I know," Noah said sympathetically. "I'm sorry for that."
Ennis looked stunned, maybe lost in his memories.
Deucalion frowned. "You have nothing to apologize for," he said to Noah. "However, the man who killed Ennis' packmate is here. And you, Sheriff, are keeping us from him." It toughened Ennis' resolve, and he resumed glaring at the sheriff.
"Still not moving," the sheriff stated softly.
"Dad…" Stiles said, voice worried.
"Go ahead," Gerard said with a cackle. "Destroy each other. And don't forget this interfering kid, too."
"Dude! Did you just quote Scooby-Doo?" Stiles asked, horrified.
"Apt," Deucalion said. "In the Scooby mysteries, the monster is always revealed to be human."
"I'm not defending his actions," Noah pointed out.
Kali took a step closer. "But you are defending him."
The sheriff's hands lifted to his waist, landing where his holster usually rested on one side, and his pepper spray on the other. There was nothing there now. Dammit again. "I took an oath. Unlike some, I take it seriously."
Deucalion laughed. Kali and Ennis smiled the same mocking smile.
Beside his son, Derek shifted uneasily. "Sheriff..."
Deucalion tucked his sunglasses into an inner pocket of his jacket. "Do you really think you can take on us? Can take me on?" He folded his cane. "You. Without your pathetic human weapons." He twisted his neck around until it cracked. His features began to change—hollowing out, darkening. "You. A brand-new alpha with no pack against the Demon Wolf?" Deucalion's eyes—his missing eyes—gleamed red in the darkness that was his burned-out sockets.