Stiles sat on the floor of the kitchen of the home his father and Melissa shared, leaning against the cupboards, tears silently rolling down his cheeks as he fiddled anxiously with his phone, trying to muster the courage to contact Nyssa to see if she had any fresh information from Nanda Parbat. Screwing up his courage, he tapped on her contact number on his phone and lifted the device to his ear. It only rang a couple of times before Nyssa replied.

"Stiles," she greeted.

"Nyssa…do you have any good news for me?" Stiles asked hopefully.

The lengthy pause before Nyssa replied answered Stiles' question for him, "There has been a…development," Nyssa replied eventually."

"Why do I not like the sound of where this is going?" Stiles asked aloud, although he didn't expect Nyssa to reply.

"Ra's himself has departed Nada Parbat, heading towards Beacon Hills. It is rumoured that you are to be executed."

"Crap," Stiles sighed, banging the back of his head against the cupboard behind him, "What the hell did I do to deserve this? Even when Merlyn went nuts and tried to flatten the Glades they react like this."

"That was because, initially, they thought Oliver had killed him," Nyssa replied, "as for your crime…several high ranking members of the league have decided that the fact you returned home to Beacon Hills, when it is known you have connections with the supernatural, was a sign that you were planning to leave the league."

"What?" Stiles yelled, "But I'm not the first person to go home. Sara pretty much lives in Starling City these days, and the actual league helped her deal with Slade."

"There were still those who were sent to bring her back though, remember Stiles?" Nyssa prompted, her tone chastising, "And at the time the league didn't see anyone else in Starling City as a viable threat. You, on the other hand, have werewolves, a banshee, a hellhound and a kitsune on your side. You also didn't make many friends while you were staying here at Nanda Parbat."

Stiles sighed. He knew he hadn't been popular amongst Ra's' advisors and second in commands, as well as the ones who had been takes with instructing him. Many of them had resented how Stiles had seemed to be favours by Ra's, and had taken their jealousy and resentment out on Stiles. It had reminded him of Mr. Harris back when he'd still attended high school, after his father had investigated Harris regarding his involvement in the Hale house fire.

"Plus the fact that I am Al ththaelib Aldhy yudir mae al dhdhiab. The fox," he added, although he was fairly sure there were few within the league who knew the full meaning behind the title, how Stiles had once been possessed by a Nogitsune.

"That too," Nyssa replied, "There has been talk of a member of the league who helped organise the attack."

"Who was it? It would have to be someone who knew about the pack…more than just the fact that they were werewolves."

"She is a high ranking member of Alnnukhbat Alssayadin min Khariq. They call her Al Nnamr Al Marqat," Nyssa replied.

"Jaguar," Stiles translated.

"Yes," Nyssa confirmed, "and she is said to be as strong and fierce as her namesake. She is part of a line of her family that have become members of the league. Her father was a member of the league. We called him Rajul Alfidd, although I believe he passed away some years ago.

"Silver man…was that just because he was old and had grey hair, or was there something more behind the name?'" Stiles questioned, a growing suspicion knowing in his gut. It shouldn't be possible, she was supposed to be dead…but then. So was he.

"No, it was a family name, used by males of that family, passed down from father to son. I believe it had some connection to their family's surname."

"Like…Argent?" Stiles asked, "The old man…he was named Gerard Argent, wasn't he?"

"Yes…I believe I did hear my father refer to him as such on one occasion. I rarely had anything to do with him, and I wasn't sure if it was his true name, or simply an alias. Do you know him?

"Yeah…and if the Jaguar is his daughter then I know her too…although she was supposed to have died seven years ago, as far as I knew. Her name is Kate Argent…she's just as psychotic as her dad ever was, perhaps even more so. You know, I really shouldn't be surprised that they were tangled up with the league, psychopaths like that would fit right in…no offense."

"It takes a lot more than backhanded insult from you to offend me, Stiles Stilinski," Nyssa answered, and Stiles could imagine her rolling her eyes at him.

"If it is Kate that's organising the whole thing I think I might know why she's doing it," Stiles admitted, thinking about how Kate had, sometimes, seemed to care about Allison, and Allison had spoken fondly of her memories of her Aunt, up until she'd learned the truth about what Kate had done in her life. Of anyone Stiles still was the one most responsible for Allison's death, despite the fact that he and the Nogitsune had physically separated at that point. It had still been wearing Stiles' face, and it had been the one controlling the Oni.

In fact, Kate's plan would ensure that she got revenge not just on Stiles for Allison's death, but it would easily lead to the death of the entire pack, something that she would certainly be aiming at.

"I…I need to go," Stiles told Nyssa, "I…I've got to think about some things…figure out where the others are being held."

"Alright…just…be careful Stiles. Sara thinks highly of you, and she would be devastated by your death if something where to happen to you."

Stiles weakly smiled knowing that Nyssa's words were as close to fondness as he was ever going to get.

"Ok Nyssa. Thanks for the information."

"Goodbye, Stiles."

"Bye Nyssa," Stiles hung up the phone and swallowed rising to his feet and sliding his phone as he strode to the bathroom. Despite the fact he was alone in the house, and all the doors and windows were securely locked Stiles shut the door behind him and braced himself at the sink, breathing deeply as he focused on the drain and the smooth white porcelain. He shifted his weight, turning the cold tap on and cupping his hands beneath the stream of water, before he splashed it onto his face. He repeated the gesture three times before he shut off the water and looked up at the mirror, taking in his reflection.

Water dripping down his face like tears, the front of his hair damp from the moisture, his skin pale and his eyes wide, he looked almost like his sixteen year old self, anxious and unsure of his place in the world. For a moment Stiles was reminded of how he had looked when he was being possessed by the Nogitsune, but then he blinked at the memory was gone. Stiles watched a drop of water run from his hair, down his forehead, before going around his eye and down the side of his face, before it dripped down into the sink.

"I'm not going to let her win," Stiles told his reflection, a hint or resolve seeping into his voice, 'I'm going to save them…every last one of them. Dad, Scott, Derek and Melissa…Jackson and Lydia, Parrish, Kira, Liam, Chris all of them. I'm not going to let her hurt them…any of them…not again. She's not going to destroy the werewolf pack of Beacon Hills, not for a second time."

Turning on his heel Stiles strode out of the bathroom, heading towards the room his father had claimed as an office. Without a single hesitation Stiles confidently strode into the room, relief flickering across his face as he saw the case board, blank and ready to use, against one wall.

Stiles marched over to it, glancing at the box of whiteboard markers, sticky notes, pens, and coloured string kept beside the board, ready for use.

"Alright, Stilinski," Stiles told himself, picking up one of the whiteboard markers and pulling the lid off, "just like old times. Let's do this."

Letting out a breath, Stiles began to write.

TW/A

The most obvious place for Kate to have stashed the pack, assuming that it was Kate that was working with the league, was the underground catacombs beneath the Hale house. The burned out remains of Derek's childhood home had long since been dismantled and cleared away, but Stiles knew that the underground cellars were still there. Scott had told him that at some point, and they'd even gone for a walk in the woods one afternoon after Scott had finished his shift at Deaton's…just the two of them. It had almost been like old times.

Still, a quick (and cautious, just in case anyone saw him) trip up to the Hale house confirmed that the underground catacombs hadn't been touched by Kate and the league. On his way back home Stiles had stopped at Derek's building and double checked Derek's loft for clues, as well as searching the rest of the building for signs of the pack being held there, but he'd come up with nothing.

Stiles wasn't allowing himself the freedom of panicking just yet, though. There were still, after all, many places that the pack could have been hidden within beacon Hills…and Judging from the note he'd been left it was unlikely the pack had been taken out of Beacon Hills itself.

A couple of anonymous calls to Beacon Hills police station had led to the police checking a few of the less likely hiding places for him. Stiles was grateful that his father had kept Stiles' old police scanner, allowing him to listen to the reports of his father and Parrish's colleagues, confirming that despite Stiles' calls there hadn't been anything suspicious about the locations that they had been contacted about.

Stiles left the police scanner on as background noise. It brought back memories of how he'd spent his teenaged years, having the scanner on as he watched TV or did his homework, allowing him to listen to the sound of his father's voice…or even to just know that his father was safe. It had become a vital part of Stiles' coping strategy after his mother's death, and it was something that had become habit right up until Stiles left Beacon Hills.

Stiles' father hadn't been rostered onto work that day, and neither had Parrish, so their absence hadn't drawn the suspicion of their colleagues, something for which Stiles was grateful. The situation was messy enough without the local police force being involved. Stiles already felt guilty about using the local police to narrow down where the League were holding the pack, and he shuddered to imagine what the league might have done to a unsuspecting police officer who wandered into their temporary lair.

With his trips out to the Hale house, and then to Derek's, it was getting close to sundown when Stiles finally set the cap of his whiteboard marker down and stepped back from the case board, his eyes skimming over it, checking to see if he had missed anything. The board was covered in his writing, sticky notes, sketches, and coloured strings to make the connections… green for solved, yellow was to be determined, blue just because it was pretty, and red for unsolved. There was rather more red on the board than Stiles would like, but there was nothing really he could do about it.

He had narrowed down the places that the league could be hiding the pack to three possible locations. The first two were warehouses right on the outskirts of town, isolated from civilization and prime pickings form anyone who didn't want to get noticed. The third option was the same train depot that Derek had hidden out with Isaac, Erica and Boyd in his first few months of being an alpha…and because Derek had used it as a hideout…and it was possible that Kate knew that particular fact, Stiles was reasonably sure that would be where Kate would have chosen to hide out.

Moving his gaze across the board, Stiles' gaze lingered on where he'd written about who he was going against. Everything he knew about the Alnnukhbat Alssayadin min Khariq was written on the board, which was really the little information that Nyssa had given him. He had also written about the seven, knowing that two of the most elite of Ra's' men had accompanied the Alnnukhbat Alssayadin min Khariq to Beacon Hills.

He also wrote about what he knew about the combat skills of Ra's Al Ghul himself. He'd been told stories and legends about the leader of the league while he was training there, but he was not sure about how accurate the stories were.

Even taking into account how unreliable the stories about Ra's were, the dangers of the situation were undeniable. If the storm over Starling City didn't break soon there was no way Oliver and his allies would be able to help Stiles, leaving Stiles alone to face the league and save his family and friends.

Stiles looked at his phone, lying innocently on his father's desk, charging quietly. Stiles hadn't heard from anyone in a few hours, not since Oliver had called in the late afternoon to update him on how things were going in Starling City. Apparently the storm had almost been past the city, but there was considerable damage done, with widespread flooding that had effectively cut off the city from the outside world. Even once the storm passed it was likely that it would be some hours before Oliver and his friends could get away from the city and get to the airport and make their way south to Beacon Hills.

Looking out the window Stiles watched the sun sink beneath the horizon, his heart heavy as the sky steadily darkened. Oliver couldn't come and help him…nobody could help him.

He was going to have to do this on his own.

Stiles wandered into the kitchen and half-heartedly made himself a salad for dinner, picking at it with little interest as he carried it with him back into his father's study, looking at where he'd written the list of people of the league had taken, reading each name with care.

Sherriff Noah Stilinski

Melissa Stilinski

Derek Hale

Scott McCall

Lydia Martin

Jackson Whittemore/Roy Harper

Chris Argent

Kira Yukimura

Liam Dunbar

Jordan Parrish

Over half of the people still alive today that Stiles cared about were on that list, he found himself thinking as he managed to force himself to swallow a few more mouthfuls of his salad before he set it aside, leaving it on his father's desk, his appetite gone, although in all honesty it hadn't really been there to begin with.

Leaning back on his father's desk, the room illuminated by the desk lamp, Stiles looked at the board, trying to think of a way to diffuse the situation that wouldn't involve the pack's blood being spilled.

Stiles' gaze hardened as he looked the board, his anger at the situation building, until he shook his head.

"Screw it," he announced to the room, although he was the only one there, before he picked up his phone, turned his back on the case board and strode out of the room.