It was a long time before Derek stopped shaking and his knot began deflating, allowing him to recover. They rolled over so Stiles was on his back, Derek halfway draped over him, a leg and an arm slung over the leaner frame as long arms wrapped around him. The alpha laid his head on the younger man's chest before moving up it slightly, nuzzling his neck and jaw, hand rubbing up and down his side as his arm carefully avoided contact with his stomach.

Or rather, the huge mess on it.

A sad sigh left Derek as he trailed a finger through the come streaked on the omega's lower belly where some of it had managed to reach, scent turning way too sad for post-orgasm times. "You have no idea how badly I wanna rub this into your skin," he murmured, staring down as his hand moved to the younger man's thighs where more of his seed had spilled. Stiles spread his legs to give him better access, grinning as his finger traced random swirls in the mess. "I'm dying to mark you up even more and make sure my scent can never be washed off you."

Stiles shuddered at the words, his wolf letting out a noise that sounded a lot like a purr. And honestly, the human part of him kind of wanted to purr as well. He was snuggled up to a gorgeous alpha—his gorgeous alpha—covered in his come and his scent, still basking in the afterglow of their orgasms. Life at that moment was good.

He stretched, smiling when the other man grumbled at the movement, long fingers scratching through black hair to make up for it. "I want you to do it, too," he admitted, pressing his lips to the top of Derek's head.

The older man froze all over before letting out a whine that was more wolf-like than human, nuzzling behind Stiles' ear then pulling away, the younger man instantly feeling cold both literally and metaphorically. He sat up with his back to the omega, spine stiff, arms loosely wrapped around his knees. But his every muscle was tensed up once again, melancholy and agitation flooding his scent.

"We should wash up," he stated, voice rough. "You can have first shower."

A snort left Stiles, hand rubbing his forehead as he tried to catch up with the extreme one-eighty that'd just been pulled. He should've expected it though. Hell, he'd even been warned about it, Laura's words from their after dinner clean-up the night before coming back to him.

Dropping his hand onto his stomach, he stared at the ceiling, swallowing hard. "Laura told me last night that you were a self-sacrificing idiot," he informed him, catching sight of Derek's head hanging off slumped shoulders. "I didn't know what she meant, but I think I get it now." With a sigh, he pushed himself up until he was sitting back against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of him. He shuffled around until he managed to get the sheet out from under himself, covering his body up to his chest with it. His arms wrapped around his torso both to hold himself together and to ward off the chill that was causing goosebumps to spread over his skin, the dried sweat on his flesh and his omega nature making him cold. "You think she knew Stu wasn't your True Mate?"

Scratching at his jaw, the alpha nodded, clearing his throat. "She probably suspected, yeah. Harder to lie to a twin than anyone else. Especially when your twin has been saying for years that they're Mate-less and fine with it and are never gonna settle down with anyone."

Stiles' wolf whined, but he ignored it. It wasn't anything new that Derek hadn't wanted to meet or Mate him. Yeah, it still hurt like hell and he kinda wanted to punch the guy in the face for it, but it wouldn't change anything. And eventually one day, he'd accept it and move on. Maybe he'd end up Mated anyway, to some other alpha who wasn't with their Mate for whatever reason or maybe just didn't have one to begin with. And he'd live a full, happy life with them, buy a house, get a dog, start a family, the whole nine.

Maybe.

When the pain in his chest at that thought subsided and the thought of being with someone else didn't make him wanna claw his own face off.

Shoving that hypothetical aside, he couldn't help but see the parallels between the two sets of twins, the similarities between Derek and Stu's way of thinking. Stu hadn't been interested in Mating, even before they'd turned sixteen and began having Dreams. Dating? Sure. Settling down in a long-term relationship? Doable. But a full-on Mating wasn't something he wanted and he'd been pretty adamant about it.

Made the shock of his email regarding his Mating to Derek all the more...well, shocking.

"I get it," he commented lowly, staring at his tangling fingers, pulling his legs in close and folding them under the sheet. He dropped his hands to his lap, the linen falling to his waist and he shivered once before continuing. "Or at least, I get Laura's side of it. Stu had told me he was Dream-less and that True Mates was an idiotic concept only fools bought into and that any sort of Mating and Claiming Bite was simply just society trying to ensure that everyone does their duty of reproducing, despite the fact that some of us physically can't."

Derek snorted, shoulders jerking with it. "Sounds like something he'd say," he muttered, smoothing his hair down at the back of his head.

He nodded in agreement, feeling that familiar ache in his chest at the thought of his brother. He thought of the hundreds of conversations they had regarding Mating, how Stiles was being an idealistic idiot and Stu was being a cynical douchelord. Romance vs Societal Standards, True Love vs Omega Oppression. Stiles had pointed out Claiming Bites weren't needed to keep their dynamic down and it seemed to be the only thing they ever agreed on when it came to Mating.

So while he understood his brother's point-of-view—even if he didn't fully agree with it—he had no clue why Derek would feel the same way. There could've been a million reasons why really and if Stiles was to find any sort of peace with the fact that his Mate didn't wanna be with him, he needed to know.

"Why didn't you ever wanna meet me?" he questioned, voice slightly rough, thick with the lump of emotion in his throat. "I mean, meet your Mate and actually, ya know, Mate them? And you can't just say because I deserved better, okay?" he declared, leaning forward so one elbow was resting on his knee, pointing at the other man with his free hand. "'Cause that's some bullshit. You're a good guy, a good alpha, and it doesn't get much better than that. Or better than you."

Derek actually visibly cringed at that, scent turning guilty and disgusted. But Stiles had the feeling that disgust was aimed at himself, that it was all inward. "You wouldn't be saying that if you knew the truth," he muttered, scratching at his jaw again.

He frowned at that, wondering what the hell he was talking about. Sure, people had skeletons in their closet, some bigger than others, in both skeleton size and closet. But he highly doubted anything would change his mind about Derek.

Minus him being a homicidal maniac or a rapist or a so-called "Traditionalist", which was basically a fancy way of saying dynamist alpha prick who thinks omegas are meant for fucking, cleaning, and raising the kids.

Those things, yeah, he'd definitely think twice about Derek being a good guy.

"Tell me the truth, then," he requested, figuring there was nothing to lose. The worst that could happen was he was told 'no' and he wound up snooping on the internet and found a whole bunch of not so flattering rumors and gossip bullshit that definitely didn't make his Mate out to be all that great of a guy.

Not that stupid gossip blogs were to be believed about, like, anything. He had enough experience to know that gossip was ninety-nine-point-nine percent bullshit.

The alpha sighed before scooting back on the bed, not stopping until he was against the wall, head resting on it, legs stretched out before him. He—unfortunately—grabbed hold of the sheet and draped it over his lap in a semblance of unnecessary modesty considering what they'd gotten up to a mere half-an-hour before, his hands laying limply on of the white linen, and he looked utterly defeated before he even began to fight. Stiles resisted the urge to snuggle up close, to hold his hand, rub his shoulder, any means of comfort. Not only was it not his place—despite his wolf's whines of argument in his head—it most likely wouldn't be very welcome.

Which fucking sucked.

But it wasn't because it was Stiles or anything, but because of Derek himself. Laura's words regarding him being a self-sacrificing idiot came back to his mind and Stiles got the feeling he would deny any comfort solely because he believed he didn't deserve it. Just like he stupidly believed Stiles deserved better than him.

Bull.

"You remember what I told you about Paige, right?" Derek began, voice rough, gravelly, thick. Stiles nodded, recalling their conversation from the diner over Derek's first love and how he'd been convinced she was his Mate before she was killed in the attack. "Well, while I was with her, I met this beta named Kate."

Stiles frowned, the name ringing a bell in his head, but he couldn't quite remember why.

"She came on to me, flirted with me, asked me out, and I said yes." He paused to let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking his head against the wall, refusing to look at Stiles. "I cheated on the female I believed was my Mate."

The omega's eyebrows raised, his head seesawing as he weighed his options. Okay, so he cheated once. Not a biggie, especially not when Derek wound up being wrong about who his Mate was, not when Stiles considered the fact that he was Derek's Mate and it was pretty much impossible to cheat on a Mate, especially when the Bond was completed.

Not that they'd ever complete their Bond.

Or even start it.

"All right," he commented, nodding his head, scratching at a sideburn. "That's bad, but it's not too terrible or anything." And it wasn't. Not when compared to all the extremes Stiles had thought up over what could've been so bad that Derek believed he wasn't worthy of Stiles—as insane a thought as that was.

"That's not all of it."

Oh.

"I told her info about my mom, her work schedule, when she had Meetings with people, what she was working on," he went on, eyes fixated across the room, unseeing. "I thought Kate was interested in Meeting with her to discuss omega rights, 'cause she had a little sister that was an omega." He let out a humorless laugh, lips curving up in a sardonic smile. "Turns out that was a lie. Only family she has is an older brother that's a beta like her."

Stiles remained silent as he watched the older man, as he studied his profile, the rise and fall of his adam's apple as he swallowed hard before continuing.

"Kate was convinced she and I were Mates, but I still believed Paige was it for me, so I told her we had to stop seeing one another. I already felt sick with guilt and had started to grow suspicious of her true intentions for being with me and really, I should've ended it sooner. She told me she understood and to take care and I thought she was okay with it, ya know? But—" He paused, shaking his head, disbelief and regret coloring his scent.

The omega felt a sinking feeling in his gut, much the same as he had the day before while listening to Stu. It all started adding up his head: Paige's death, Derek's indiscretion, Kate's conviction.

It was a volatile mix of dangerous chemicals and it was all gonna blow soon.

"She killed Paige first," Derek choked out then cleared his throat. "Kate wanted her out the way so we could be together. My dad and several S-Dubs were killed trying to protect the rest of the family and the town." He licked his lips, eyes shining, still unfocused as they stared off at nothing. Derek's face was haunted, ashen, a slight tremble racing through his body. "Kate was maniacal, feral, screaming that Talia wasn't meant to be State Alpha and that I belonged to her and that nothing and no one was gonna stop us from being together. It took four men and half a dozen tranqs to take her down and even then she was still snarling about how she didn't finish her mission."

In all honesty, Stiles felt sick. Not at Derek though. No, in his mind, the alpha was a victim, just as much as Paige and his dad and those S-Dubs. He was sick at Kate, over Kate, because of Kate. If he remembered rightly, Derek had been fifteen and Kate was twenty-six at the time of her arrest. Eleven years. And while age gaps did exist at times between Mated pairs—like the eight years between himself and Derek—the elder of the two always held off until the younger was legal and consented.

But Kate hadn't.

Kate had slept with a minor.

Kate had used him to get to his mom.

Kate had caused the death of so many people and had been pissed she hadn't killed more.

"None of that was your fault," Stiles murmured before continuing in a stronger voice. "Kate used you, she, in all technicality, raped you 'cause you were underage. She manipulated you into getting info with sex, playing on your hormones and teenage sex drive. You're not culpable for any of this."

Derek snorted in disagreement, shaking his head. "I could've said 'no', but I didn't," he stated harshly, finally turning to look at the younger man, eyes hard and brow pulled in a scowl that was once more aimed at himself rather than any person. "If I hadn't cheated on Paige, then—"

"Then Kate would've found another way to get the info she wanted," Stiles cut in, finishing it for him. "Kate was psychotic, okay? Insane, and a bitch as crazy as that never would've given in after hearing the word 'no'. She would've broken you down eventually or found some other poor sap to prey on. Because that's what she did, she preyed on you." He shuffled around, sheet falling away, so he was facing the alpha fully, legs tucked underneath him, feeling the alpha's come go tacky between his thighs, hands held before him for emphasis. "Derek, you were used and manipulated by a woman who should've known better than to play with an impressionable minor."

The older man shook his hanging head. "I don't believe you."

"Well, you should, 'cause I'm fucking right," he declared, folding his arms over his bare chest, only to drop them immediately after so he could gesticulate some more. "And furthermore, it's not proof that you're a bad person, just that you were a victim of someone else's game and some really shitty circumstances. So let go of all those thoughts that you're a terrible guy 'cause it's all bullshit." He ended it with a shove to the alpha's bare shoulder, the other man barely being moved at the action.

The corner of his lips curved up in a weak attempt at a fond smile, small breath of laughter gusting out his nose. "Laura keeps telling me the same thing," he admitted before his face fell and he returned to that self-deprecating, self-hating, self-angered grump he previously was. "But I can't." Looking up, he met Stiles' eyes with a conviction that hadn't been there since he'd stated that he was gonna find the guy who'd killed Stu and end his life, too. "I don't deserve anything good after what I did and I sure as hell don't deserve you."

"Bullshit," Stiles argued, voice just as hard and just as full of conviction as Derek's had been. "And I'm gonna prove it to you."

Shaking his head, the older man pulled away both physically and emotionally. His face completely shut down, becoming an emotionless mask, as his scent practically disappeared. Stiles wanted to punch the guy for it.

"We both need a shower and some sleep," Derek stated roughly. "It's been a long night."

Definitely gonna punch him.

Letting out a harsh sigh, Stiles tugged at his hair, wondering why the hell he was stuck with a Mate so fucking stubborn. Not that he had much room to talk, but he could be convinced to see differently if given the right motivation or argument. But Derek? He was completely set in his belief that he was this godawful person who'd done this godawful thing and only deserve godawful stuff. Bullshit. Such fucking bullshit.

And because of it, Stiles was stuck suffering.

"Fine," he huffed, waving his hand in dismissal then clambering out the bed. His movements were jerky from aggravation and a shower sounded pretty damn good at that moment. The perfect excuse to get away from Derek before he gave in to the urge to punch him, not to mention he wouldn't mind washing the night away.

Without another word, he turned and headed straight for the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind himself.

Stiles headed for the office-slash-guest room pretty much as soon as he was done in the shower and had wrapped himself up in a towel. He quickly dried off and changed into a pair of—now clean—flannel PJ pants and a dark blue tee with Captain America's shield on it. After tossing the used towel in the hamper in the bathroom, he stood in the middle of the room, looking at all the evidence taped to the walls, trying to find a link, but only really able to get that hashtag the Agents of SHIELD TV show kept using: "ItsAllConnected".

Very fucking unhelpful.

Not sure what else to do but knowing he had to get started somewhere, he pulled down a few pages from the wall about his mom's family tree then grabbed his brother's MacBook, setting up shop in the middle of the room on the floor. Pages were spread around him, pen in his hand, another behind his ear, laptop on his crossed legs as he set to work translating passages.

Derek found him like that not long after, smelling fresh and clean from his own shower. He leaned against the door frame, arms folded over his chest, ankles crossed, hint of amusement in his scent and curving up his lips. "Don't suppose there's any way I can convince you to get some sleep?"

Stiles didn't bother looking up, just continuously glanced back and forth between the screen and the paper he was holding up. "Nope," he answered, popping the "p".

"Stu was the same way when he got fixated on something. Probably what's covering this room right now."

He froze at that, swallowing hard, that ache in his chest coming back to the forefront of his mind. Shit. He'd forgotten how similar he and Stu could be when it came to shit like this. Except Stu usually kept all his obsessive research in neat files on flashdrives—a habit that clearly hadn't been broken after he left home—and Stiles...well, he pinned shit up. Everywhere.

Usually red string and/or tape was involved to connect things, but he hadn't quite figured out the connections between any of this yet. And he hadn't found any red string either, just some twine in a junk drawer in the kitchen that just didn't feel quite right for use.

"You find anything yet?"

Snapping himself out of it, he shook his head and sniffed, glancing at the page in his hand as he tried to remember what it was that he was doing and where he'd left off. "Not yet," he grumbled. "Just that I come from a long line of alphas on my mom's side and I demand to know where shit went wrong to make me, Stu, and her all omegas."

"You know there's nothing wrong with being an omega, right?" Derek pointed out, straightening up.

"Oh, I know," Stiles clarified. "Most of society and all of its laws don't know that though."

The older man snorted, nodding in agreement. "That's why my mom's tryna change shit. But that's a convo for another day. Why don't I make us some coffee since it doesn't look like either of us is going to bed any time soon?"

A small smile formed on his as he looked up at the other man for the first time, taking in the black mesh basketball shorts and gray v-neck he was wearing, damp hair messily shoved up in a semblance of its usual style. "Sounds good."

The expression was mirrored on Derek's face as he let out a small "good" of his own before turning and padding his way to the kitchen.

Another paragraph of useless translations later and Derek had returned, handing Stiles a mug of coffee that was—after a quick taste test—made pretty damn perfectly. He gave the alpha a grateful smile and thanked him, carefully sliding the laptop onto the floor and stretching his legs out on either side of it.

"Okay, so I'm thinking all of this is related somehow," he said out loud, pinching the bridge of his nose as he fought eye fatigue and gathered his thoughts. "It has to be, otherwise Stu wouldn't have kept it all together on the one flashdrive like that, that's not how he operates." Dropping his hand onto his lap, he sipped at his coffee as he glanced around, noting Derek resting on the edge of his desk with his ankles crossed, his arms folded, and his own mug of hot and caffeinated up by his lips. "We just need to find the missing link. All of this, all these pages and paragraphs and photos? It's all important, it all leads to something so huge that Stu actually believed his life was in danger."

The older man's brow furrowed. "Did he really say that?" At Stiles' nod, he put his mug behind him on his desk and wrapped his arms around himself. "Think, uh. Think I can watch that video now?"

Stiles gave another nod, figuring it would only help. "It's the flashdrive on his desk marked with a one."

Derek gave him a quick head bob in acknowledgment and rose up from his position, striding to the other desk. It wasn't long before he was back in the seat for his own, headphones in his ears and video playing on the screen.

Not wanting to see any of it, Stiles buried himself in his translating, back hurting from his position but not caring. This was important. Like, beyond important. There was something there in his family's history, something he was missing, something that was the link he needed. But it still out of his reach and his eyes were crossing and his head felt weirdly light and heavy at the same time. He was so close yet everything still felt a million miles away.

It was a long five minutes before Derek let out a swear and tossed his headphones to the side, laptop slamming shut. He clenched his fists behind his head as he stretched then roughed them over his face repeatedly. His scent was full of heartache, loss, guilt, anger, disgust, and Stiles was pretty sure he'd smelled the same way after having watched the video himself.

Rising to his feet, Derek turned so he was sitting in the chair backwards, folded arms over the back of it as he repeatedly shoved his hand through his hair. "I can't believe he didn't tell me about the Dreams," he murmured. "Or that he knew the alpha that'd been stalking him."

Stiles tapped a pen against his knee, nodding as he chewed his lip. "Yeah, me neither. Especially considering how many law enforcement agents he knew."

"Maybe he thought he was protecting us by keeping us out of the loop."

"Maybe." He kept tapping the pen, turning his head to the left to glance at all the notes he'd taken on Stu's death. Despite the clues he'd hidden leading to the flashdrives and whatever the hell it was that they contained, Stiles couldn't help but be pissed that the guy couldn't have taken the time to hide a description of the stalker alpha somewhere, or at least given them a better starting point than "Male alpha".

He thought of Jackson's mention of a phone call that had freaked Stu out, wondering how exactly he was supposed to get ahold of that info without any real access to anything.

Anything, but Derek.

Who had full access to everything.

Or at least had at one point, until his sister took him off the case.

But he'd still have a better chance of somehow managing to obtain the info than Stiles would.

Feigning a casualness he wasn't entirely feeling, Stiles peered up at the other man with a curious look on his face, acting as though a thought had just occurred to him. "You checked Stu's phone when you found it, right?" he questioned, pen now being used to point at Derek. "Photos, texts, emails, phone records?"

The S-Dub nodded, scratching at his jaw. "Yeah, and the only unknown number was from that text he sent to you. Everything else was pretty standard."

Stiles nodded as though taking the info in, while internally he was kind of spazzing out. If the number had freaked Stu out but hadn't pinged any red flags for Derek, then clearly the killer was someone Stu had known and was regularly chatting with. Major fucking breakthrough!

That he had to keep to himself.

Because he couldn't tell Derek, not without ratting out Jackson for giving info to a civilian and withholding it from investigators. The guy was in enough trouble as it was and that would only land him an extra reaming and wow. Who would've thought a day would come where Stiles didn't want Jackson to get in trouble?

Fuck, his life had really been flipped around.

"You get anywhere with that translating shit?" Derek asked, changing the subject as he stood up once more and moved to the pages above his desk.

"Not really," Stiles answered, peering down at it and glad to be on a different topic. "I mean, other than a whole lotta alphas, there is literally nothing sticking out about her family. Kind of a dead end there."

The alpha let out a non-committal "hmm" and nodded, still staring at the wall. "And what about this tree?"

"The Nemeton," the younger man reminded him. "Not entirely sure about that. Only interesting thing I found in that—other than the whole ritualistic murder thing—" he amended, waving his hands around. "Was that my mom was apparently on some committee to further protect it and have some sort of barrier put around it so no one could mess with it and accidentally awaken it."

Brow furrowed, Derek peered over his shoulder at him. "The Nemeton Protection Group?" he double-checked then fully turned to face Stiles, shaking a finger as he gathered his thoughts. "I think I remember my mom talking about that. She wanted to have walls built around it with electrical charges, but the State Senate wouldn't agree to it, just a lame chain link fence." Facing the papers again, he looked over them more rapidly, yanking one down and scanning it as he turned back to Stiles. "Ah! There!" he proclaimed, practically stabbing the paper as he pointed at it. "'State Alpha Talia Hale met today with Nemeton Protection Group, led by former Beacon County Alpha Mieczyslaw Blass—Blaws—Blashk—Yeah, I have no clue how to pronounce this. B-L-A-S-Z-K-I-E-W-I-C-Z."

"Blash-ke-vich," Stiles muttered absently, his eyes going wide a second later in a delayed reaction. "Wait, Mieczyslaw Blaszkiewicz?"

The older man just stared at him blankly. "If you say so," he pandered, stepping over and handing the paper over.

His eyes scanned over the page, the very first sentence the one Derek had been trying to read. And there it was, in black and white.

What the fuck?

"That's my maternal grandfather," he stated, hands dropping as he stared up at the other man in confusion. "He's the one I was named after."

"Gotta love family traditions, huh?" Derek deadpanned as he lowered himself to the ground, grabbing a free page off the floor and looking it over, sneer forming in confusion at the words that were most likely unpronounceable to him.

He ignored the remark, still stuck in his own bewilderment at what the paper had told him. "What the hell was that about him being a former Beacon County Alpha? Shouldn't that be Natalie Martin's family?"

A shrug was Derek's first answer, followed by a sniff. "Didn't you say your mom's family was full of alphas."

"Yeah, in dynamic, but not—" He cut himself off as realization hit him and he stared blankly ahead at nothing before letting out a swear.

Derek stared at him with a raised eyebrow, watching as Stiles scrambled up to his knees and began shoving papers around, trying to find the pages he needed. "What is it? What're you looking for?"

"Family trees," he answered somewhat frantically, still pushing things around. "There were two of them."

Stiles found one buried underneath a page he was trying to translate—which turned out to be nothing but stories about farming in Poland—Derek finding the second soon after and handing it over. Carefully moving the MacBook out the way he laid the two pages side-by-side, glancing back and forth between them.

"Holy shit."

A family with a lot of alphas wasn't uncommon, since the alpha gene was more dominant than any other. Alphas breeding with alphas were bound to produce other alphas. But every now and then, an omega was born, a latent gene from some great-great-great-times-a-million grandparent or another, effectively ending a line of nothing but alphas.

Which was exactly what happened in the Blaszkiewicz family.

One family tree was in landscape format, showing siblings and cousins and distant relatives, more of a family forest than anything. But the other was portrait style, up and down, just one direct line, only showing one child per generation.

The oldest child.

The alpha child.

Who had, in turn, actually been labeled as an "Alpha".

"Your family were the Beacon County Alphas," Derek murmured in amazement, drawing the same conclusion Stiles had.

"Right," Stiles breathed out, slumping down onto his ass. "Until my omega mom was born. And since she was an only child and any other possible Alphas had moved out of the county or were too old, the position was moved to another family." Rising to his feet, he strode over to the bookshelves and the piece of paper he'd left, thinking it was unimportant, snatching it up. "'The Davies family was one of the founding families of Beacon County and another line of pure alphas, all the way up to the last born descendant, Lydia Martin.' They would've been entrusted to take care of the county. After my dziadek retired from the position, it went to the next Alpha of age in the next family, Joshua Davies, the father of the current Beacon County Alpha, Natalie, who became a Martin through Mating."

"But that's only supposed to be temporary in a sense," Derek pointed out, brow furrowed. "It's only until the original family has an alpha born to them or is Mated into the family. Your dad would've been next in line."

"Unless he turned it down," Stiles suggested, the other man seesawing his head in concession. "He kept saying he has no idea how Alpha Martin does it and that there's no way he could handle the pressure of that position. Being sheriff is stressful enough."

The older man snorted and muttered out a "no kidding".

Nodding like a bobble-head, the omega chewed on his bottom lip, eyes scanning the wall of Nemeton info above Derek's desk, mind whirring at a million miles an hour as he tried to put it all together. "Did the Nemeton Protection Act ever go through?"

Derek rose to his feet and strode over to the wall Stiles was staring at, head moving around as he tried to find the page he needed, pulling it down when he found it. "Yeah. It states that only the County Alpha has access to it and that anyone who wants to gain admittance needs to go through them first." Lowering the paper, he looked over at Stiles with inquisitive eyes and a furrowed brow. "What if someone wanted to get to the Nemeton to tap into the power it's supposed to have?"

"And they tried to use my mom to get it," Stiles added, knowing where Derek was going with his thought. "She said someone was after her, but we all wrote it off as another delusion. Someone might've known that her family were the true Beacon County Alphas and when she refused to give them access, they killed her."

"It's plausible," the S-Dub admitted, putting the page back where he'd found it. "Stu did say the alpha that was after him was after something bad and he'd almost had it figured out."

Nodding, Stiles began pacing back and forth, fingers drumming against his fist as he held it in front of his chest. "The alpha being Stu's Mate could've just been a huge cosmic coincidence," he pointed out, thinking that if he was gonna have such shit luck that his Mate wound up being Claimed by his twin, then it was possible for his twin to have just as shitty luck.

Sitting on the edge of the desk again, Derek folded his arms and crossed his ankles, eyes locked on the omega walking back and forth across the room. "Maybe the alpha's next plan was to try and gain access by Mating into the family that had true rights to the county, but Stu was already Mated and therefore off-limits."

"Doesn't explain why he killed him though," Stiles pointed out, chewing his bottom lip as he continued to pace. Flashes of that pseudo-vision popped in his head, the alpha's growls about Stu sticking his snout where it didn't belong causing a shiver to race up his spine. "Stu was close to figuring out this guy's plan and we both know there was no way he'd go along with it and help. Chances were he was trying to get all the info possible and find out exactly what it was before he took it to you or your mom or whoever to stop this guy, but the alpha found out and killed him for it when Stu refused to cooperate."

"Agreed," Derek stated, scratching his jaw as he glanced around the room. "That's why Stu left all this info behind and left it for you. He knew you'd match his way of thinking and solve all this."

He paused in the middle of the room, staring at the pages above Derek's desk. "We know the alpha was after access to the Nemeton and was killing anyone who got in his way," he summed up, folding his arms over his chest. "We just don't know why he wanted the power from it and what the next step for him would be."

Peering over his shoulder at the papers behind him, the alpha nodded in agreement, scent determined. "I think we need to find out more about this Nemeton. Maybe the answer lies somewhere in there."

"Certainly wouldn't hurt to check," the younger man agreed, stepping over to the wall.

Between the two of them, they took every page down, spreading it out on the floor, info on the Blaszkiewicz family put to the side on the couch. Refills of coffee were made and they settled on the plush carpet, Derek grabbing his own laptop as well, digging in and hoping for the best.

Several hours passed and Stiles knew more about three-fold murders than he ever wanted to. He knew more about Druids and Darachs than he wanted to. He knew more about sacrificial murders and blood rituals than he wanted to.

He also was jittery as fuck thanks to five cups of coffee and the fact that he hadn't taken his ADD meds since the morning he left Beacon Hills.

Derek rose to his feet, stretching up to the sky and Stiles had to fight to keep his eyes on the screen rather than stare at the strip of bare skin revealed by his shirt riding up with his arms. A fight he lost, whiskey orbs flicking over to glance at it every now and then.

No one's lower abdomen should be that attractive.

Letting out a grunt, the alpha dropped his arms with a slap to his thighs then put his hands on his hips, staring down at the mess on the floor. "You getting anywhere?" he questioned, pushing aside a paper with his toes.

Stiles shook his head as he rubbed at his eyes. "I know you need to hit someone upside the head with a blunt object then choke them with a garrotte then slice open their throats, in that order."

"Seems a bit like overkill."

He stretched his back as he groaned out "it's a three-fold murder." With a sigh, he slumped. "Pretty much supposed to be overkill."

Derek let out a sigh of his own then smeared his hand down his face. "Well, considering Stuart only had his throat slashed open, we can rule out him being a sacrifice."

"He doesn't fit into any of the categories anyway. Not a warrior, healer, philosopher, guardian, or, uh. Virgin." He glanced at the other man out the corner of his eye, noting the way the tip of his ears went red.

Awkward.

Clearing his throat, the alpha glanced around the room, almost as though he was looking for an escape. "Right," he began, nodding once. "I'm getting cabin fever and my wolf is getting restless and we're clearly getting nowhere." He peered down at the younger man, eyebrow cocked in question. "Feel like going for a jog?"

Stiles was slightly taken aback at the random suggestion, but it made sense, not to mention sounded like a damn good idea. Sliding the laptop to the side, he stretched his legs out in front of him, flexing his ankles and wiggling his toes. "Sounds awesome, but I didn't pack any running gear."

Derek shrugged a shoulder. "Borrow some of Stu's. You guys are pretty much the same size, right?"

That had the omega's brow furrowing. "Stu never exercised," he pointed out. "His work-outs were going down the stairs for more coffee or trekking to his next class."

The alpha snorted. "Explains why he was such shit at it in the beginning." Gesturing to the door with his head, he stepped closer to it. "C'mon. Let's get you some gear."

Standing up, Stiles stretched, a relieved groan leaving him. He glanced around the room one more time, deciding leaving for a run was the best idea. It would help clear his mind, allow him to become somewhat refreshed, and when they came back, they'd have fresher eyes and possibly find something they missed before.

A plan and some hope in mind, he followed Derek out the office-slash-guest room and to the master bedroom to get changed and stretch his legs.