Being left alone in the library did little to settle Stiles' nerves. The illusion of freedom inside the house was somewhat shattered by the sound of a key turning in the lock as Talia shut the doors on him, and he had no delusions that the wolves wouldn't come running at the first sound of the windows being pried open. So instead of searching for a way out he put his time to better use, his mind whirring away as he hunted desperately for a solution to the problem he was facing. He counted off the time by pacing, eleven marches down, a tight turn to avoid the bookshelves, and eleven back again, all the while wishing for a computer. His research skills lay deeply embedded in the gift that was Google, but four discarded ideas in and his gaze landed on the heavy, leather-bound book Talia had poured over the day before, tucked neatly away in an encyclopedia of similar volumes.
Taking it down from the shelf with a grunt, surprised by its weight, Stiles cracked it open and quickly skimmed the contents list, found the fourth charter that denoted the manner in which grievances could be aired between the two groups; the humans in town and the wolves in the Preserve. Sitting down in Talia's chair he pulled the book closer, his eyes darting across line after line of legalese but only really picking out the pertinent bits.
Should either faction cross into neighboring territory uninvited, recompense will belong to the injured party…
Messenger status may only apply to persons of position sent at the behest of either party…
Collateral hostage may be made of such persons by either party, and it falls to such a messenger to begin opening talks as a negotiator between parties…
It wasn't the neatest work he'd ever read, certainly not written by a lawyer, but meant to be understood and upheld by average people.
Still, he wished he'd had more time to plan.
Of course, if he'd had more time to plan he probably wouldn't be here at all. This was Scott's terrible, impulsive decision, to come running in here with empty guns blazing, and Stiles was the idiot side-kick who'd stumbled along after him.
"All right then idiot," he muttered under his breath, scrubbing his hands through his hair.
Time to figure this out.
Unfortunately for him, time wasn't exactly a real thing inside the Preserve. It had gone wonky on him ever since he'd stepped across the border, and save that one brief glance at the clock in the kitchen, there was little to mark true time. More than once he wished for his watch as he read through the case law, glancing at his bare wrist every few pages or so until he got fed up with himself and dived back into the book with his full attention, to the exclusion of almost all else. Shuffling in the hallway outside, dimmed voices, all came to him as if from under water, the house settled inside a thick bubble where time pretty much just stopped as the lines of small black print scrolled endlessly in front of him.
It was painful.
But it paid off, because by the time the click of the library doors opening startled him out of his laser point focus, he had it - his golden idea, his saving grace, his raison d'etre… or at least his reason for calling politics into play.
The whole thing was utter crap.
"Why do you always do that?" a low voice demanded.
"Do what?" Stiles asked, working to keep his voice level as he closed the heavy law book and turned a bit to face Derek, who was standing in the now open doorway and twisting a bottle of water between his hands, claws crackling against the thin plastic.
Derek flashed his eyes, scowled like Stiles should know what he was talking about before he stepped forward and placed the bottle on the desk.
"Here," he muttered, shrugging off the question and his lack of answer with apparent ease, but the question prickled at the back of Stiles' neck.
What had he been doing? Clearly something that was upsetting to the werewolf, and frankly with that being the case he'd like to stop doing whatever it was. Twisting the top off the bottle, he took a sip, his brain going back to the way that Derek watched him with something almost like suspicion, the way that Stiles jumped whenever the wolf appeared silently beside him.
Was that it?
Was he just… offended that Stiles had spooked?
It made a weird sort of sense - the dark young man was awfully silent on his feet and Stiles had practically developed a full-body twitch where he was concerned, startling every time he came into the room.
In an attempt to hide a bitter sort of smirk, Stiles lifted the bottle in his hand, this time draining half of it to combat the sudden dryness in his throat.
If he was right it was almost funny - a werewolf who was nervous of him, him, 147 pounds of pale skin and fragile bone whose only real defense against the world was sarcasm…
Well, almost his only defense.
Capping the bottle and putting it down, his hand went subconsciously to his shoulder, kneading the muscle through his thick hoodie. Unfortunately Derek was still watching him, sitting in the wingback chair on the other side of the desk and staring like he could see right through Stiles. Swallowing hard, he dropped his hand, probably too casually but what else could he do?
Bluff, he supposed.
Standing, he deliberately turned his back in the werewolf, lifted the heavy book of case law and slotted it back into place on the shelf.
"Why are you here?"
The question came quietly, hesitantly, and he wasn't ready for it but he managed to keep himself from flinching this time.
"I told you," he said keeping his voice low and flat and soft. "I came to get Scott."
Turning around, he looked up just in time to see Derek cock his head to one side, his eyebrows drawn together tightly.
"You're not lying," he frowned, and the complete confusion in his voice took Stiles aback.
"How…"
"DEREK!"
"Jesus, Laura!" Derek yelped, squeezing his eyes shut and hunching his shoulders where Stiles had to slap his hands over his ears at the screech that suddenly rang through the air. "Mom said no yelling in the house."
"Oh please," a tall, curvy young woman huffed, breezing into the library like she owned it. "Like that rule wasn't made because of you."
Getting to his feet, Derek practically ran across the floor, meeting his sister halfway to the hall where he wrapped her up in a fierce hug, swallowing her slightly smaller frame and burying his face into the curve of her neck. For her part Laura did much the same, fisting one hand in her brother's leather jacket and gripping him tightly by the back of the neck with the other, her knuckles white. Rubbing her cheek vigorously against the side of his face, she took a step back but didn't let go, just transferred her grip to Derek's sleeve.
"How's mom?" she asked quietly, and Stiles didn't miss the way her brother's eyes flicked to the ceiling overhead.
"Anxious," he murmured, almost inaudible to Stiles' human ears. "She's moving fast, trying to cover all the bases. She's worried about him."
The thumb jerked over her shoulder had Stiles' heart stuttering in his chest, his eyes going wide as Laura turned on him with a sharp, golden gaze, looking him over like a predator sizes prey.
"He's cute enough but he doesn't look like much," she assessed, cocking her head in a way that looked exactly like her brother, and that alone kept Stiles from squawking his indignation. "What does he turn into?"
"Sheriff's kid," Derek shrugged, and Laura raised an eyebrow, and aw hell, now she looked just like her mother.
Stiles felt his heart thump again as he realized that of all the wolves in the house, this was probably the one that he needed to watch out for.
"She's worried the town will think we kidnapped him because the other kid crossed the border."
"Fair," she conceded before turning on Stiles, planting her hands on the desk and leaning forward with sharp teeth showing behind her bright red lipstick. "That's not what you plan on telling them, is it cutie?"
"N… no ma'am," he stammered, and then a smile was breaking over Laura's face and she was laughing delightedly and coming around the side of the desk to grab him around the shoulders and pull him against her hip in a terrifying hug, scrubbing her palm roughly over the top of his head.
"Aw, I like this one Derek," she said, pinching him on the cheek before releasing him to gulp at the air, a light fear-sweat breaking out all over his body. "Can we keep him?"
Keep him? What?!
Stiles' head spun.
These people were freaking insane!
Threatened by an Alpha, dragged around roughly by her recalcitrant yet nervous son, and now taken to by her loud, effusive daughter, so much so that she wanted to keep him…
He wasn't sure which approach he hated more.
"But he's already collateral hostage," Laura whined, apparently in response to something Derek had said but Stiles missed. "Why not? He looks like he could be fun. What do you think cutie, wanna stay and have some fun?"
Stiles squeaked.
A manly squeak, but definitely a squeak.
"Me?" he asked in astonishment, pointing a finger dumbly at his own chest. "I'm not… I mean, I don't… I mean, what kind of fun are we talking about, cause I'm still a minor. And breakable. Delicate… squishy human… "
For a moment both werewolves stared at him with blank faces, flabbergasted by the jumbled mess that had just come rushing out of him, but then Derek was scowling and Laura was cracking up, elbowing him in the side.
"Oh come on Der," she grinned. "Don't be such a sourpuss! Your little stray's hilarious! Smart too apparently; scrub him up a little and he'd make quite the…"
"Hey Laur, Mom wants you upstairs."
"Oh thank god," Stiles muttered under his breath, his cheeks burning as the blonde from yesterday - Nicholas - poked his head into the library.
He looked rumpled and weary, not as much as Stiles had in the mirror that morning, but he had the distinct appearance of somebody who'd been in a car for too long.
"Guess I need to get up there," Laura sighed.
Pecking Derek on the cheek, she shot Stiles a wink over her shoulder as she headed for the door, squeezing Nicholas' arm as she passed and disappearing down the hallway. For a moment silence reigned and Stiles wondered if he shouldn't do something to break it, tapping his fingers experimentally on the desk top.
"Listen little bro, I gotta crash for half an hour," the man in the doorway said, dragging a hand through his long, thick hair. "Laura was freaking when I picked her up, so I had to drive round trip."
"Is she ok?" Derek asked, and there was heartfelt concern in his voice.
"Yeah, she just needed to get it out of the way. You know what it's like with her; next in line, keeping up appearances, all that jazz…"
"Yeah."
For a minute Stiles thought he would say more but he only nodded, clapped Derek on the shoulder and ducked out.
"Come get me before it starts!" he called back over his shoulder and Stiles flinched.
For a no shouting in the house rule, there seemed to be an awful lot of it going on. It had definitely been a surprise to hear Laura accuse Derek of being the source of the rule.
"I wouldn't you know."
Derek turned, looked at Stiles with confusion and he didn't blame him. He hadn't been prepared for the words to come out of his mouth either, certainly hadn't planned them. But they were out there now, so…
"Tell them you kidnapped me," he tried again. "I wouldn't… do that."
"Why, because you're honest?" the werewolf asked with a sneer, but he looked just a little bit pale and there was something around his eyes that was… troubling. "Humans lie all the time."
Stiles bit down an angry retort, swallowed an accusation.
"Sure," he replied instead, stuffing his hands into his pockets where he could ball them into fists unseen. "But you said you could tell. Was I lying?"
Derek paused, stared at him with a blank expression.
And then turned and walked out of the library without another word.
"Dick," Stiles muttered, and a bark of laughter sounded from the hallway before Calvin walked in, a grin edging at the corners of his mouth.
"Derek's not so bad once you get to know him," he reassured, taking the younger man's seat across from Stiles. "His bark's a lot worse than his bite."
"Dog jokes?" Stiles asked, brightening a bit at this first bit of levity he'd experienced since his arrival. "Really? Is cool for me to use them, or is it like, one of those group-inclusive things?"
"Eh, maybe give it a while," the wolf said easily, kicking his feet out to slouch lower in his chair. "I wouldn't open with it."
"Right," Stiles mumbled, all humor sucked right out of him as he recalled his earlier dilemma. He was supposed to speak soon, represent the humans to the wolf pack…
"You ready?"
Stiles swallowed, but straightened his shoulders and nodded.
The question had felt more like encouraging concern than fishing anyway.
"Shouldn't be long," Calvin said conversationally, but again Stiles had to wonder if it wasn't reassurance on his part. He'd be happy to get this over with as soon as possible. "We were only waiting on Laura."
"Why?" he asked, before he could reel the question back. It didn't seem like his business, and he wasn't sure why he wanted to know in the first place. The fact that he was making the effort to remember names, faces, personalities - he didn't know if that meant something, if subconsciously he was preparing to be stuck here.
"She's next in line to be Alpha," Calvin answered after a bit of a pause. "What happens today… she needs to be a part of that decision. It affects the future of the pack, which makes it partially her responsibility."
"Oh."
The conversation that had passed between Derek and his older brother was making a little more sense now.
Laura just seemed so much more carefree than the rest of them, so much more lighthearted…
It didn't fit.
Tilting his head to one side, Calvin glanced at the ceiling, raised his eyebrows before getting to his feet.
"Come on," he said, gesturing Stiles up. "Your dad's on his way."
"Where are we going?" Stiles asked as he scrambled to his feet, nerves and eagerness rushing back in to make his stomach tilt.
"The school," Calving replied, chuckling when he saw the surprise on Stiles' face. "Not yours. Ours. The kids are mostly homeschooled now, since the war. A few have gone to college, like Laura, but most of them are still just pups. Anyway, it's big enough to fit everyone inside; we've got it rearranged to hold the negotiations comfortably enough."
"Everyone?" Stiles warbled, stumbling as he stepped outside onto the porch after the werewolf and going white as a sheet. "The whole…"
"Not all of us," he amended, watching Stiles carefully, though there might have been something like amusement in his gaze too. "Not much for public speaking?" he teased.
"Shut up," Stiles muttered before he realized what he'd done, but Calvin just laughed and started walking toward another of the buildings, this one long and low and L-shaped. Somehow it managed to have the look and feel of a school, and Stiles balked on principle at the door but followed him inside.
"There will be more than a few of us," he warned. "Alpha Hale, Laura, David. Probably Derek and Nicky too. Three elders, maybe four more betas."
"And you?"
Calvin paused, looked over his shoulder curiously before giving him a wry half-smile. "And me," he said, and that shouldn't have been reassuring but it was.
Pushing open a heavy door, Calvin gestured him through into what looked like a small, converted gymnasium, and Stiles was struck just as he had been earlier by the practical amenities, the contained sort of community he hadn't realized existed out here. He wondered if it had been like this before werewolves had come out to the world, before the hunter wars and before the segregation, or if it had only been born out of necessity when the pack no longer had access to town.
Musings best left for another time he supposed.
Closer inspection of his surroundings revealed a long table at one end of the gym with several chairs placed around it, and it was clear where the divide between the two sides was. He assumed the left was his as there were far fewer chairs provided, but the presence of two extra, four in total, surprised him, and he wondered if his father was bringing more people. The mayor maybe, though Stiles doubted it. Mayor Reinbold was a largely absent figure, spending more of his time on a houseboat off the Baja peninsula than in Beacon Hills. No, Stiles' father pretty much ran the town - it would be his job and his reputation on the line.
More interesting that that there were further extra places set, two short rows of folding chairs set up as though for the audience of a play, and Stiles swallowed hard. Sure, he liked to talk, but this was important, and he didn't want to screw it up. The fewer wolves watching the less nervous he would be, and that at least would increase his chances of speaking with some eloquence.
Or at least coherency.
Musing silently on this thought, staring into space, he was vaguely aware of someone coming in with a cardboard box and unloading bottles of water at each place at the table, pens and pads of paper, and he wondered idly how long they expected this thing to last.
"When everyone's here, let the Alpha sit first."
Stiles blinked, turned to find Calvin standing at his side.
"Then you and your father. She'll say something, explain why we're here, and then it will be your turn. Speak to her, or Laura - don't worry about anyone else. It's unlikely they'll talk to you anyways; it wouldn't be proper."
"Why are you helping me?" Stiles asked.
The werewolf shrugged, put his hands into the pockets of the dark grey slacks he wore. "Why wouldn't I?" he asked. "It's best for the pack, best for everyone if this is resolved smoothly."
"Is that a threat?"
"That's the truth. We had no interest in a war then and we have no interest in one now."
And what could Stiles say to that?
He considered apologizing, considered once again professing his own desire for peace, but before he could open his mouth the doors were opening and his father was walking in, led by Talia Hale and flanked by two of his deputies.
"Dad!"
Sprinting across the gym he crashed into the man's arms and practically collapsed with relief - he might be seventeen but his dad was still his super hero, his saving grace, the one that he could always count on, and having him there made Stiles feel safe.
That hug was totally worth the slap to the back of the head.
