"What the f-" Stiles whisper-shouted, remembering to lower his voice at the last second because his father had stumbled to bed less than an hour ago and he didn't want to disturb the overworked man.

He'd gone downstairs to grab a drink and came back into his room to find Derek lounging on his bed like he owned it. The soda unfortunately didn't survive Stiles' surprised flailing and spilled all over his shirt. He glared at the smirking Alpha before grabbing a towel from the top of his dirty laundry pile. If it were anyone else, Stiles would just strip off the wet shirt and change, but he refused to be vulnerable around the wolf anymore than he already was.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"I told you we had to talk later. This is later."

"Uh, when did we agree to that?"

Derek stared. "Did you really think we wouldn't talk about it?"

Stiles slipped into his computer chair and swiveled around to face the Alpha. He wanted to tell him to get off his bed, but Stiles knew this was a territory thing and refused to play into Derek's agenda. Regardless of how human Stiles was, Derek's wolf seemed to enjoy playing wolfish games with him, or at least Stiles thought so since he started learning more lore under Deaton's tutelage and looked at Derek's actions under new light. Of course wolfish games weren't as light-hearted as it sounded and there were serious consequences for any missteps he made. While the two Beacon Hills packs weren't actively hostile after the events of four months ago, there was also a strong sense of distrust between Scott and Derek, though this time it was Derek feeling it after Scott set him up. Stiles was angry with Scott - and if he was truthful with himself still a little angry - but was too loyal to apologize to Derek even if he thought Scott played dirty pool.

"So, you wanna tell me more about this pack of Alphas? Or the fact you lied to Scott about not knowing what the marks on Allison's and Lydia's wrists meant?"

The arch questions wiped the smirk off Derek's face, and Stiles enjoyed the awkward silence more than he probably should.

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

"I didn't lie."

"Semantics, Derek! I could tell you knew something about it."

Derek's "Look, I don't want the girls involved any more than they already are," held a ring of truth and Stiles nodded reluctantly. He thought the Alpha was dumb to think just because he hadn't shared his info the girls would let it go - hello these were the same girls who resurrected his dead uncle and shot thirty arrows into him and his pack as Derek so succinctly pointed out - but he was willing to let sleeping dogs lie for now. After all, a little maiming was always fun to watch from a safe distance, and Derek would hopefully learn a valuable lesson about ignoring the female half of Team Human.

"Stiles, I didn't call upon you guy just because I don't think you can handle it, which honestly I don't think you can, but also because I don't want to get any more wolves involved."

Stiles thought about pointing out he really wasn't a wolf, but figured it wasn't the point Derek was trying to make. Despite being a shitty Alpha, and he really kind of was, Derek was also being completely earnest. And honest to a point. There was obviously more at play here and Stiles had the bad feeling he would be pulled into this whether the older man wanted him to or not.

"Yeah, okay, whatever," the teen equivocated when the silence stretched further than felt comfortable. Derek's stubbled jaw worked back and forth as if he were chewing on something - words, ideas, remains of a bunny rabbit? - then he settled further into Stiles' comfy pillow top, his grey henly and jean-clad body looking odd against the brand new red comforter.

"Did you talk to Dr. Deaton after you and Scott left the house?"

"Yes...no..."

"So, no."

"No."

"Why not?"

Stiles shrugged, his shirt sliding wetly against his chest. He scrunched down further into the chair picking at a loose thread in his comfy pajama pants.

"I didn't think it was important."

"Riiight, so you suddenly flinging sparkly fairy dust is a good thing."

"Why isn't it?" And he was serious. What was so wrong with Stiles having a little power? He wasn't able to keep up physically with the wolves, and his planning skills weren't called into use often, so why not channel magic if he could? He needed to contribute something, otherwise he wouldn't be any better than Greenburg standing on the sidelines with a thumb up his ass.

"This is Beacon Hills. When is something new a good thing?"

"Touche." Stiles frowned down at his innocuous looking hands and wished he had a rebuttal, but it was the truth. Dr. Deaton had said he was a Spark and he could turn action into truth through the strength of his will, but nothing was said about glowing skin marks. "And why are you all gung-ho about me talking to our friendly spooky vet? You seemed really pissed at him the last time you saw him."

There was dead silence again then,"You're not me and he can help you." Another beat of quiet. "And uh, well..." Derek sounded uncharacteristically hesitant, which immediately brought Stiles' attention back to the older man's face. He looked unsettled, his brows furrowed in contemplation as he sought the right words. "Look, I don't want you or Scott being dragged into this, but I need Scott's help. With Isaac."

"And you want me to talk him into helping you. Call him yourself."

"I don't have his number."

"It hasn't changed, dude."

"You call him."

"No, you. You're the one who wants him to do something."

Stiles wasn't bitter about playing secretary, not even a little. It wasn't like he wanted to help Derek out with his problems, though frankly it would be better for everyone if both he and Scott were in the loop from the beginning instead of being roped into it after it blew up in the Alpha's face...which it would because the guy had poor planning and execution skills (see: biting outcast teenagers).

"Look Stiles, I need to find Erica and Boyd, and only Isaac knows where they are. Peter already tried to finesse his memories, but it was too jumbled. I don't know what else to do."

It was a genuine plea for help, and not for himself but for his packmates. Maybe Derek was getting better at this whole leader thing - even if it took him four months to figure out he was in over his head.

Wait. Peter?

"Wait, Peter? What exactly did he do?"

"Unimportant now since it didn't work. You will convince Scott to help." Derek slid off the bed and loomed over Stiles, as if the sheer bulk of his presence would overwhelm him. Apparently he was over the whole "I'm the Alpha," schtick and going back to the tried and true intimidation track. He didn't move and stared right back into red eyes. A lot had happened since the last time Derek tried this, and while there was still a swooping feeling in the pit of his stomach, he was made of sterner stuff.

"Fine." Way to stay strong Stiles. "On one condition." On the other hand, it was safer to be standing by Derek's side when things went sideways. And they always went sideways with werewolves involved.

The same self-satisfied smirk from earlier reappeared on Derek's lips, revealing his cute bunny front teeth.

"You can come too."

"Gee thanks, but no that's not the condition." Stiles drew in a deep breath. "My oldest friend in Beacon Hills went missing from her party the other night; at first I thought she just took off because the last time I saw her she was pretty trashed, but a missing person's report was filed by her family so its definitely not something innocent. I want you to go back to the scene of the crime and find out if you can smell anything, I dunno, hinky."

"I'm not a bloodhound, Stiles."

"I'm not saying you are, just you have the skills of one. It's my condition to getting Scott to help you without going through the whole "I just wanna be a real boy" routine."

His help with the younger wolf was really needed, and they both knew it. Scott was dealing with his "condition" better now, especially with his mom in on the secret, but it wouldn't take much to throw him back to the petulant emo teen of last year.

"Fine, but I go alone."

"Is it possible the Alphas took her?"

Derek shrugged, his Henley pulling tight across his shoulders. "It is easier to turn teens than any other age because their bodies haven't finished forming."

"As shown by Exhibit A Erica, Exhibit B Boyd, and Exhibit C Isaac, Your Honor."

"But I doubt they took her, Stiles. That's not what they want."

"What exactly do they want then, Derek? Seems to me the last time we had an Alpha running around wild, he started biting indiscriminately."

"Ha. Ha. I can't tell you why they're here."

"Can't or won't?"

"Guess you can kill two birds with one stone: we'll see you at Dr. Deaton's so we find out where Erica and Boyd are being held and then you can tell him what happened the other night."

"Way to subtly change the subject."

"Talk to Scott, I'm sure you know how to make it seem like his idea."

"Joy."

"Always is working with you," Derek snarked before blurring across the room and out the window in the time it took Stiles to stand.

"Showoff."

The howl drifting back sounded suspiciously like wolfish laughter, but Stiles ignored it in favor of slamming his window shut.

A/N: To fully understand this chapter, you needed to have seen 3x02 "Chaos Rising" - I sort of manipulated the timeline so Derek and Stiles had their conversation proceeding Stiles' and Scott's class with Finstock and the conversation the boys have walking down the hallway. Also, since Stiles has a history of spying on his dad's work, I had him aware of Heather's disappearance prior to his dad showing up at school. His reaction to the Sheriff's news struck me as odd, as did his comment later about talking to Derek about biting teens, so I figured Stiles already believed her disappearance wasn't normal and kept quiet because he thought it was supernatural in origin, which meant he couldn't talk to authorities about it.