Needless to say, there was quite a lot to do before Stiles had a chance to broach the matter of Queen Winnemucca with his husband. Cora insisted on departing immediately with Matt's body for California. However, she stated that she would be returning after the burial to sort out the murder to her satisfaction. She didn't seem to believe in BUR's ability to do so. The abruptness of her departure left Stiles and Derek standing dumbly in the hallway, staring at one another, exhausted by lack of sleep. When the knock came at their front door, they were entirely unprepared to meet Laura's face, nor a chipper Connor sitting happily no Isaac's hip just behind her.

"Dad! Daddy!" greeted their son.

"We thought we'd go for a stroll in the park. I don't believe we'll benefit from this weather much longer. We we're wondering if you darlings would care to join us?"

Stiles shook his head. "I'm sorry, but we've had a pretty long day."

"So my drones have informed me. Someone had a serious accident. Not to mention the fact that you paid a visit to Newark Hive, my dear Stiles."

"Oh, crap. Newark! Derek, I completely forgot. We need to talk about that soon. Sorry, Laura. Perhaps tomorrow night?" Stiles wasn't going to give the vampire the satisfaction of any further information.

Laura knew when she was being dismissed. The vampire tilted her head graciously, and she and Isaac returned to the street.

Stiles grabbed his husband by the arm, practically dragging him back inside and closing the door firmly behind them.

"Oh, Derek, I forgot." Stiles looked around frantically, but realized that his note would not be anywhere near here. "Oh well. I must have dropped it. I think I can remember most of the letter."

"Letter? What are you talking about?" Derek looked at his husband curiously.

"Morrell summoned me to visit Newark because Connor and I have been summoned, commanded even, to visit the queen of the Las Vegas hive."

"Winnemucca? Really?" He looked impressed.

Stiles was surprised. His husband was rarely impressed by anything to do with vampires. In fact, Derek was rarely impressed by anything period, except perhaps Stiles on occasion.

"She commands us to visit her in Nevada as soon as possible."

Derek didn't flinch at the outrageousness of such a demand, only saying, "Well, I'll have to come with you, if that's the case."

Stiles paused. He had his story all prepared. His explanation as to why he should go. He was even formulating a plan to disguise his reason for traveling. Yet, here his husband went just knuckling under and wanting to go with him. "Wait, what? You aren't going to object?"

"Would it do anything if I did?"

"Well, no. I would go anyway."

"Stiles, you don't say no to Queen Winnemucca. Not even the Alpha of the Manhattan Pack."

Stiles was so surprised he handed his husband his own argument – the one he had been prepared to battle. "You don't want to stay and see to the murder investigation?"

"Of course I do. But I would never let you go see the Las Vegas Hive alone. It's a dangerous place. Chris, Jackson, and Scott are rather more capable than I like to admit. They'll be able to handle everything here, including Cora and a dead werewolf investigation."

Stiles's jaw dropped. "Really, this is too easy. What—" He paused. "Oh, I get it. You're curious!"

Derek shrugged. "Why does she want to see you, in particular?"

"This has something to do with my mother, I think. The note implied that she knew secrets about my mother. She spent some time in Nevada – not Las Vegas, I don't think – but from what I gathered in her journals, she did spend time in the rest of the state. She didn't seem to have written anything down during that time, though."

"So, should I plan the trip? The vampires can't possibly object to us taking charge of Connor for an extended period of time. It's their request, after all."

"Vampires object to everything. They will probably want to send a drone as monitor."

"Mmm. Also, it will be slower with you along. We can't go by plane if we have a werewolf." He patted his husband's arm.

Stiles yawned loudly. "I think I may go to bed soon. Get some sleep."

"Sleep?"

By the time they made their way up the stairs in their own home, across the hidden bridge to Laura's house, and into their secret bedroom, Stiles was no longer feeling quite so tired.

Derek swopped him up and deposited Stiles on the bed, following him down into the puffy comforter. Once there, Stiles gently but firmly took control from him. Most of the time, because his husband was bossy in the best possible way, Stiles let him take charge. But sometimes he must be reminded that Stiles was, too, an Alpha, and his nature would not permit him to always follow Derek's lead. He knew, given Matt's death, that Derek needed to be cared for, and he needed to look after him. The evening called for gentleness, long smooth caresses, and slow kisses, reminding them both that they were alive and together. The customary roughness could wait until he had made his point as firmly as he could.

Erica Boyd, née Reyes, was just getting home from work when Stiles arrived. The introduction of twins into the Boyds' lives had not seemed to affect their mother in anyway.

Erica's children, unlike Stiles's son, seemed unpardonably well behaved. Every time Stiles saw them, the babies quietly cooed and batted their eyelashes and never cried. Stiles found them charming and consequently was perversely glad they were asleep when he arrived.

"Stiles!" Erica squealed, pulling Stiles into a hug.

"You know you just saw me yesterday."

"Yes, but that was for the twins."

Stiles smiled and then moved right to business. "I was wondering if you would be willing to take a trip to Nevada with me – Las Vegas to be exact."

"Really? Now?"

Stiles shrugged. "There is—" Stiles paused, trying to keep a straight face, "a matter for the Baseball Bat Battalion there. I thought I might disguise it as two families taking a trip together."

Erica's eyes grew wide with curiosity. "Families? Does that mean both Boyd and I would have time off from BUR?"

Stiles nodded. "I'm sure it wouldn't be a problem." He paused. "Do you really call him Boyd all the time? Even when you're with him? What do you introduce yourselves as Boyd and Mrs. Boyd?"

Erica rolled her eyes. "It's been how many years and you're still asking me this?"

Stiles sighed. "It's just weird. And he won't let me call him Vernon. I was wondering if anyone got to."

When Stiles got home, he called the Newark Hive, instructing them to have Morrell tell Queen Winnemucca that they would be taking a vacation in Las Vegas soon.

The pack got home halfway through his call and the general ruckus of too many men resulted. Derek stuck his head through the door the say there was nothing new concerning Matt and did he know where Scott had gone?

Stiles replied that, no, he didn't and would he please come in and let him explain his plan before Derek gallivanted off again.

"And now," Stiles said after his explanation, "I'm going to go talk to Laura. I want her perspective on this summons from Queen Winnemucca and I should probably let her know I'll be gone from the Shadow Council. She'll have to handle Peter on her own."

"If you think you need to."

"Der, you really need to accept the fact that Laura knows useful things. Things even you and BUR don't know. Plus, she's Connor's legal guardian. If we're planning on taking him halfway across the country, even at a vampire's request, we should ask."

Derek gestured absently and Stiles took off without further comment.

Scott sat quietly, watching the news when Chris Argent wandered in, spotted him, and said, "Oh, good. Just who I was looking for."

Scott was startled. Argent had very little to do with Scott. Dealing with Derek was a full-time job.

"What did you need?"

"We haven't been able to get any information from onlookers near where Matt was shot. I was wondering if you might have some contacts in that area, from before?"

"Laura had me visit a bar near there occasionally. One of the bartenders might remember me. Would you like me to go now?"

"If you don't mind. Would you like some company?"

They walked in silence for a long moment. Finally, Scott asked, "I was wondering if you don't dress and act like you do to blend as well as Laura's drones, only more subtly." Scott saw white teeth flash in a quick smile.

"Well, it is a Beta's job to stay in the background."

"Did Matt do that?"

"Not as far as I could tell. But he was not a true Beta. Derek killed the Beacon Hills Beta before he left the pack. Matt stepped in because there was no one better."

"What a mess that must have been."

Next to him, Argent's footsteps paused one infinitesimal minute. Without supernatural hearing, Scott would have never caught the hesitation. "For the Beacon Hills Pack? Yes, I guess it was. You know, at the time, I never gave it much thought. The Newark Pack had its own problems."

Scott had heard the rumors. He'd also done his best to learn the history of his pack. "The Alpha before Derek had gone bad, I heard."

"That's an understatement."

"You didn't like him?"

Argent was silent.

Finally Scott asked, "Are you going to answer my question or avoid it?"

Argent gave him a sharp look. "You're right. I didn't like him."

Scott felt slightly horrified. "Do all Alphas go bad?"

"All of the old ones. Most of the die fighting off challengers. But the really strong ones, the ones who live past three or four hundred, they all go bad."

"How old is Derek?"

"I wouldn't worry about him."

"But he'll get there?"

"I suspect he might be one of the ones who does."

"And you have a plan?"

Argent gave a small huff of amusement. "I believe he does. You believe ours is a far more ugly world than the vampires, don't you?"

Scott said nothing.

"Perhaps they simply hide it better."

Scott thought of Laura, but again said nothing.

Argent sighed. "You're one of us now. You made it through the first few years. You're controlling the change."

Scott remained silent, staring off in the distance.

The bar looked unfortunately popular.

The regulars quieted at the entrance of strangers. A murmur of talk circulated as they made their way to the bar.

The bartender remembered Scott. He was a good tipper and he never groped women in the bar or expected anything from them.

"It's been awhile since I've seen you here."

"Tom, how are you?"

"Couldn't be better. What can I get you? Still drinking rye?"

"Sure. We'll take two, neat."

Tom brought over two glasses. "I have this new rye – a cinnamon one. Thought you might like it."

Scott smiled. "Thanks. How has the place been so I last came here?"

"Oh, well, let me just tell you." Tom chattered on about all the various regulars around the neighborhood for a good twenty minutes. Argent paid dutiful attention and Scott asked enough questions to keep him going.

Finally he prodded gently, "I hear something happened nearby the other night?"

Tom fell obligingly into the trap. "There was! Gunshots! Branden swore he saw a man taking off in a black BMW. Way too nice for this part of town. And then of course there was the fire, same night. I can't imagine how they're linked, but I'm not saying they're not, either."

Scott blinked, confounded for a moment. "Did he say anything about what the man looked like?"

"Expensive. Very well-dressed. Not sure what he was doing around here. You're curious, aren't you?"

"Oh, you know me, Tom. Love to gossip."

Tom chuckled and continued on.

Argent nodded at Scott imperceptibly in approval. A well-dressed man in a black BMW wasn't a lot to go one, but it was better than nothing. And at least there were records of cars. That narrowed their suspect list.