It's easy, the kind of easy that makes you nervous because surely nothing can be so simple.

On Friday Stiles swings by the cemetery where Isaac works for his dad on the pretense of visiting his mother's grave. He doesn't – he's not sure what to say to her just yet – but it's a good excuse. He finds the guy huddled inside a long-sleeved zip-up even though it's late-July, mid-nineties, and there are shadows around his eyes that he can't place – bruises from lack of sleep or an excess of slaps. The skinny blonde seems kind of dazed, like he's not even hearing what Stiles says, and follows along like a little lost puppy when he suggests they take a walk, maybe grab a coke at the diner.

He ends up feeding him a vanilla malt before casually nudging him in the direction of the station – kid looks like he needs to gain about twenty pounds. As easy as he's come, Stiles guesses he'll balk at going inside so he plants his ass on the lawn out front and makes idle conversation about absolutely nothing until he sees the tension in Isaac's shoulders ease just a tiny bit.

It doesn't go away entirely, of course it doesn't.

He never loses that haunted, paranoid look, his shoulders hunched and his head Stiles mentions the werewolves. That certainly seems to grab his attention, especailly the bit about how Stiles has found his soul bonded and been spending time out in the Preserve. He asks what it's like and Stiles tells him the truth – weird, awkward, but... good.

Better than he'd thought it would be.

He tells him what he knows about Calvin and Nicky, Talia and Laura and Derek.

Doesn't tell him about Peter – that's not important – but as much as he can about the rest.

About how they're abolishing the old treaty, eliminating the borders, reassimilating the town of Beacon Hills with the Hale Pack of the Preserve.

About how the pack will be offering asylum to a select few individuals, and later, if they so choose, the Bite, and a permanent place within their pack.

Isaac pales and goes wide-eyed, rocks up onto his knees like he's ready to bolt, but then suddenly there's a black Camaro pulling up in front of the station and Laura and Talia Hale step out, the first in casual jeans and a loose, flowery top, the latter wearing a smart, pin-striped suit. The younger looks friendly, easy and approachable, her mother like a force to be reckoned with, and Stiles can't help but approve of their tactics.

Talia nods in his direction before heading inside, no doubt to meet his father who will be waiting.

Laura makes her way easily up onto the grass, smiling and opening her arms like an old friend, and Stiles is so surprised by it that he's prodded to his feet, meeting her a few scant yards from where Isaac watches incredulously only to be drawn into a light hug. Laura's smiling and smells like fucking sunshine, and Stiles is absolutely stunned when she rubs her cheek against the curve of his throat, the most blatant scent marking he's received thus far.

"Hey Stiles!" she grins brightly, letting him go so he can step away and get his personal bubble back. "What'cha up to?"

"Hey Laura." Raising his paper cup, he gestures behind him at Isaac, who's still staring in silence. "Just hanging out with my friend Isaac, having a milkshake."

"Ooo, yummy, can I have some?"

She doesn't wait for an answer – she sneaks it from his hand before he has the chance, sips from his straw and does a little happy dance. It's be super cute if it didn't make him a little nervous, make him wonder what the significance of sharing food was with werewolves, make him wonder what Peter would have to say about it.

And well, that thought just pisses him off, so he waves her away when she offers it back and lets her have the rest, which she accepts with a smile and a kiss on the cheek.

"Hi Isaac," she says, toning down the cheeriness just a little, something else Stiles approves of. Sitting down on the grass beside the other boy, she crosses her legs, a picture of calm and safe. "I'm Laura Hale. I don't think we've ever met, but I'm pretty sure you knew my brother Derek a long time ago."

Isaac licks his lips, looks caught between being charmed and terrified.

Yeah, Stiles knows that feeling.

Laura, well, she's looking at his eyes and his sleeves and the way he holds himself and Stiles can tell from the way she holds herself that she sees it too.

"Listen cutie," she sighs, setting her cup aside and rolling onto one hip, turning to make sure he knows he has her full attention and reaching out to place one hand on Stiles' knee. "I'm going to tell you the truth ok? You know I'm a werewolf right?"

Isaac hesitates, then nods.

"Good. You know who my mom is?"

"Yes ma'am."

This time Laura hesitates, looks surprised and shocked by the respect being directed toward her, but she recovers quickly.

"Did Stiles..."

"I told him about the treaty," Stiles says, jumping in as quietly and unobtrusively as he can. "About what's coming."

"A lot of change huh?"

A moment of silence passes and Laura holds both Stiles' and Isaac's gaze for a minute, a feeling passing between them that none of them can identify. It's fear and hope and disbelief and lots of other unnameable stuff, but Stiles is struck by the concept of Laura's world being turned upside down the most, like being tackled on the lacrosse field.

He's not the only one who's life is changing.

She's the one out here with them for a reason – she's going to be Alpha one day soon, these changes will be her changes, Isaac her pack, and Stiles...

He doesn't know what he'll be.

"We're changing things Isaac," she says quietly. "Me, Stiles... we're going to find a way to make this work."

Sighing, she draws up her knees, hugs them to her chest, lets a little of her own vulnerability show.

"We've got a lot to fix," she admits. "Got a lot to work on."

Lifting her head, she suddenly takes on all the dignity and confidence of her mother and in that moment she's beautiful.

"But we're going to do it," she says, proud and determined. "We're going to change. My pack, we're going to be a part of this town, of this world. And I want you to be a part of my pack."

It takes some talking.

Isaac almost panics, almost runs, but something about Laura seems to soothe him.

She knows all the right things to say, and all the things she shouldn't.

She doesn't talk about his dad.

She doesn't talk about his bruises.

She doesn't talk about what might happen to him when he goes home that night, having been seen in front of the police station.

She does tell him he'll be safe.

Unlike Stiles' dad, she and the other werewolves have the ability to keep that promise.

He doesn't believe her at first – that's easy to see. Stiles doesn't necessarily blame him. It's even easier to see that his resistance falters the more she talks, that she's slowly convincing him of the Hale's ability to exploit the loopholes of the law, to offer him a place of his choosing where the Sheriff can't take him forcibly.

He can come to them, live under their protection, and he doesn't have to admit a damned thing.

She's good - Stiles has got to hand it to her.

It almost doesn't seem fair.

She's playing on his emotions, his fear, the threat of his father looming over his head, but she's not forcing him. She's giving him the choice, a mostly rock solid safety-net. All he has to do is jump, and Stiles knows he will even before he does it.

Hell he's ready to jump himself.

She talks about what it means to be pack.

About the bonds that slowly build and grow between them.

She talks about what it's like to never be alone.

By the time they're done talking Isaac is standing in the circle of Laura's embrace and sobbing against her shoulder, and Stiles can't say that her eyes are dry either. She's holding the shaking teenager like she feels personally responsible for him, and he wonders if this isn't the start of something much bigger than he'd originally realized, if this isn't the beginning. At first glance she doesn't really seem like the mothering type, too young and too cheerful and too care-free, but the reality of it is that if all goes to plan, Isaac will belong to her. It will be her who gives him the Bite, her who both commands and earns his allegiance as a member of the Hale pack.

It's not surprising that she's looming over him just a little bit, protective mama bear.

No, the only thing surprising is that Stiles notices any of this at all.

He feels positively sick, like his chest is being cracked open, his ribcage being split and his heart squeezed. He wants, like he's never wanted before, needs. All this talk of home and pack and the closest of familial intimacy, of bonds and brothers by blood and bite, it...

Fuck, it hurts.

He hasn't felt like this since his mother died.

He misses the look Laura shoots him, follows her into the police station like a robot. Isaac is small and flinching beside her where she's got an arm around his waist, keeping him close, but his chin is up and it's Stiles that draws alarm when they step into his father's office. The Sheriff and Talia Hale both get to their feet, concern on their faces as Laura settles Isaac in a chair and turns to him as well. He doesn't know he's pale as milk, doesn't know he's clammy or that his hands are shaking, and he brushes his father off when he rounds the desk and takes his face between big, rough hands.

"I'm ok," he mutters, then decides to say screw it and grabs his father around the shoulders in a tight hug.

The man hugs him back with something almost like surprise, and when he lets go and Stiles steps away, Talia Hale takes a step closer like she would do the same. She doesn't, and again the specter of his soul bonded seems to be standing behind his shoulder, watching him, but they nod at each other and everyone takes their seats again. Laura ends up next to him on the couch, Isaac on her other side, and the press of her thigh against his is just a little bit soothing.

Not nearly enough to make him feel ok, but he'll take any relief he can get.

They talk.

He doesn't listen, but he knows they talk.

His father is explaining the legality of the new treaty, the elimination of the borders and the show of good faith that the pack will offer the town by taking on new members, Isaac included. They don't really talk about why the pack needs new members, about how their numbers are down because of the war and how they're facing political pressures from other, surrounding packs, or how it will be the abused, the week and the vulnerable and the endangered that Talia and Laura Hale swoop in to save.

They don't talk about it.

They don't have to.

It's the ghost in the room, the giant pink elephant that they don't have to point out because for fuck's sake it's sitting right there.

Isaac might not grasp the delicate intricacies of it, all the details, but he's not stupid either.

He knows what the hell's going on.

And here, now, with a werewolf beside him holding his hand and another in front of him with the Sheriff at her back, he seems to realize that this is his chance.

That unlike before, he could make a break from his father and really, truly get away.

It's as much of a guarantee as anyone could ask for, surely more than Isaac ever thought he would get – that much is written clearly across his face. He hardly listens to the terms and conditions, the fact that after a year he would have to make a choice, accept the Bite that would make him a werewolf or leave the pack for good. All that doesn't matter. What matters is what happens now; that he can walk out of this police station, get into Laura's car, and be taken away from this.

There's something dark in the guy's eyes that Stiles can't name but that he can feel even over the nausea rolling around in his stomach, the desperate need to curl up in a ball and whimper. By the time the talk is over, by the time his dad is shaking Talia Hale's hand and she's signing a stack of papers and Isaac is once again being held close by Laura as she runs her long, pink-painted fingernails through his curly hair, Stiles is sweating bullets and so light-headed he almost loses his balance when he gets to his feet. He feels his lips pulling back of his teeth in a snarl when Talia lifts a hand to steady him and she immediately backs off, actually drops her eyes which shocks all of the aggression right out of him.

Then he remembers.

Soul bonded.

It's stupid – it's not like he ever forgets.

It's always there, Peter's always there, but sometimes it hits him a lot harder than others.

He belongs to someone now, whether he likes it or not, and with that revelation comes another that gives his world another good turn.

Peter's staked a claim on him whether he likes it or not either.

Stiles is standing here thinking about the future, how the bond will change everything that might come, but Peter, he's caught in the present. Stiles is upset that he can't really go out and find a boyfriend or a girlfriend, that he'll have to incorporate his bonded and the pack into his college plans, all these things that haven't happened yet. Things he can't really miss or regret yet because he hasn't had them.

Peter, he's established, an adult, a real person with a real life. He's got a family, a place, a boyfriend, presumably a job...

This bond fucks all that up.

It doesn't make him feel bad for the guy, not much anyway. It doesn't excuse how he's behaved, the things he's said and done.

But...

Stiles thinks maybe he understands him just a little bit more.

He's still a dick.

"Isaac's going with you guys right?" he asks, interrupting whatever conversation is going on around him.

Talia hesitated, nods, and Laura squeezes Isaac's hand.

"Mind if I bum a ride?"

"Stiles?"

Stiles turns to his father, weary and weathered, frightened and worried and worst of all resigned.

"I'm just gonna go hang out for a little while," he says, lies sitting sour on his tongue. "Make sure he gets settled in all right."

His dad is staring at him - doesn't believe him, he can tell – but he sighs and wraps Stiles up into another hug.

"All right kiddo," he murmurs in his ear. "You call me, if anything happens, you understand me?"

"Yes sir."

"I'll make sure Stiles is taken care of Sheriff," Talia says quietly. "I suppose it's of little consolation, but my brother looks even worse."

Stiles chokes a laugh.

Just a few days before, hell, even earlier today, that would've made him feel a hell of a lot better.

Now?

Shit, now he doesn't even know.

Shaking his head, he brushes off the questioning looks and grabs the bookbag he'd stashed in his dad's office that morning. Laura seems to take that as her cue and leads him and Isaac back out to the car while Talia finishes up with his dad. He's surprised when she cajoles the both of them into the tiny back seat, climbs in behind the seat after them. She gets herself into the middle, grabs each of their hands and holds on so tight it almost hurts, but the pain is real and anchoring and perfect. It cuts through the claustrophobia and the nausea and the fear of an uncertain future, keeps him present in the moment, the scent of her perfume and the clean leather of the seats foremost in his mind.

Eventually Talia comes down the walk and climbs into the front seat, starting the car without a word. Backing out, she flicks a glance at the three of them in the rearview mirror and Stiles sees tremendous pride in that brief look.

He's kind of proud of Laura himself.

What he doesn't realize is that once he turns away to the window, she looks at him just the same.