Chapter Sixteen
...
The Sheriff met them at the arrival gate. He hung back, despite his relief to see Stiles whole and unharmed, unsure as to whether his son would want his peers and possible future colleagues to see them hugging. He noticed Stiles holding Derek's hand and raised an eyebrow briefly.
Finally, he thought with a slight grin.
When Stiles had been having nightmares, Derek had offered to stay with him at night to look after him and do his... werewolf healing thing. It had taken another two weeks before Derek had gathered the courage to ask the Sheriff if he could court Stiles. He'd agreed with a firm handshake, showing the werewolf who was boss and Derek very kindly letting him. Derek hadn't really done anything different, and Stiles was still a little oblivious to the fact that people found him attractive, so nothing had really come of the whole thing. Stiles had only been gone for a week before Derek followed after him, surprising no one but Stiles himself. The Sheriff was just glad they'd finally sorted things out.
Stiles grinned, dropped his carry-on bag into Derek's arms, and practically launched himself at his father, hugging him tightly. "You didn't think I'd let you get away without giving me a hug, did you, old man?"
"Never," the Sheriff replied, laughing against his son's shoulder. "Come on now, we're both meant to be professionals here."
Stiles grinned. "Professional can wait."
The Sheriff tried not to grin too broadly at that. They pulled away a moment later, and he looked from Stiles to the group of twenty-odd people who'd disembarked the flight with him. Derek was coming over with Stiles' bag over his shoulder, his cheeks turning pink when the Sheriff raised an eyebrow at him pointedly. "Nice to see you, Derek. Have you been accused of murder lately?" he asked, trying not to grin too much.
"Seriously, Pops?!" Stiles hissed.
"Not in the last few days, sir," Derek replied, grinning outright.
The Sheriff grinned and held out a hand. Derek shook it, a little firmer than he had the last time they'd shaken hands. "Glad to hear it, son. How was the flight over?" he asked both Stiles and Derek, ignoring Stiles' curious look at their handshake.
"Not bad. We've got a lead, so we'll be heading into the forest sooner rather than later," Stiles replied, looking over to the entrance and seeing Agent McCall heading their way.
"Are you sure?" the Sheriff asked, concerned. No one went into the forest lately, not even Scott.
"Yeah, I'm sure. Pops, you remember Agent McCall. Agent McCall, you remember the Sheriff?" Stiles said when McCall stopped beside them.
Rafe and the Sheriff both rolled their eyes, but shook hands firmly.
"Good to see you, Rafe."
"You too. Why don't we head down to the station and discuss a few things? Mind if my team borrows one of your rooms to get set up?"
"Not at all; I've organised a room already. There's cruisers out the front for everyone to get a ride. If you need to run instead, just follow the cars; the roads will be clear," the Sheriff added, noting a few looks of relief at the offer.
He didn't blame them; being cooped up on a plane was bad enough for him as a human.
"Thanks, Sheriff," Derek said with a nod, heading to the exit with Stiles and several of their group.
"Come on, I've got to check this out or I'll - " Stiles stopped talking so abruptly that several people looked at him. "Roscoe!"
Tomika looked from Stiles to Derek, frowning. "Who or what is Roscoe?"
Derek smirked and nodded ahead to where Stiles was running towards his Jeep. "That is Roscoe."
"There is no way I'm riding in that," Tomika said, shaking her head vehemently.
"I will. After all of Stilinski's talking, I kind of want to see what this Nemeton thing is," Marcie said, shrugging at Tomika's expression.
"I'll meet you at the station," Grant said. "If I get to choose someone to travel with, it's going to be the person who can predict death."
Tomika laughed heartily and headed to one of the cruisers that were waiting for them, Grant following after her quickly.
"Have you finished kissing your car yet?" Derek asked.
"Don't be jealous," Stiles said, grinning over at him. "Still want to go for a run?"
"Yeah. I'll follow you," Derek replied, pressing a quick kiss to Stiles' mouth before heading out of the parking lot at a jog.
"Ready to go, Stilinski?" Marcie asked.
"Sure. Hop in," Stiles said, heading to the driver's seat and getting his keys from between the roof and sun visor.
"That's secure," Marcie said, rolling her eyes.
Stiles snorted. "Everyone in town knows who Roscoe belongs to, and they wouldn't steal my baby if they knew what was good for them. Besides, I've charmed Roscoe from tyre to top," he said with a grin, starting the ignition and patting the steering wheel. "Don't worry, baby; I've got you."
Marcie frowned when the Jeep's engine rumbled, almost as if in response to Stiles' words. "Did you charm your car to talk as well?"
"Nah, Roscoe's always done that. Usually when I run out of duct tape," Stiles admitted.
He reversed out of the parking lot and headed towards the forest, Derek running alongside the Jeep easily.
...
Walking through the forest in evening was about as great as Stiles remembered, which was to say: not at all. He tripped over a tree root for the third time, cursing and swearing as he did so. After fifteen more minutes of walking, they made it to the Nemeton, the tree stump just as huge and dominating as ever. Stiles frowned at the sight.
"What's wrong?" Derek asked, scenting his concern.
"Everything I read about the Nemeton in the bestiary," Stiles said, trailing off as he tried to gather his thoughts into coherent sentences. "When the Nemeton is out of power, it's a normal tree, right? When it's fully charged, then it's a beacon, prison, and connects the ley lines so it's more than a tree."
"Right," Derek said.
Marcie just frowned at the concept of a tree being more than a tree.
"So the combination of Darach's sacrifices and our deaths, the Nemeton is fully charged. But it's not a tree."
"You've lost me," Derek said, frowning as he looked between Stiles and the tree stump.
"It's still a tree stump. The sacrifices should have healed the damage done to the tree, it should be all powered up and growing again. The Nemeton shouldn't be a tree stump, it should be a tree, and it's definitely not a tree."
Derek took a moment to consider Stiles' words. "So, the Nemeton isn't a tree because... the charge is no longer there?"
"You mean someone is stealing power from the tree stump?" Marcie asked, frowning.
Stiles nodded. "According to the bestiary, it should have started growing shoots since the first sacrifices charged it up."
Derek walked around the circumference of the tree, looking and sniffing carefully. He walked to the stump and placed his palm flat on the wood. "I think it did. The centre here smells like new shoots in spring. It's faint, but the roots are still in the tree, even though the shoots are no longer here. I can't scent anyone or anything else," he added, frustrated.
"What do those shoots actually mean then? It can't just be the tree regrowing, if the tree is more than a tree, can it?" Marcie asked, looking between Derek and Stiles.
Stiles blinked at her question, straightening as he thought of an answer that made sense with everything he'd read and knew. "The Nemeton is also a prison. Those shoots must hold the prisoners while the tree's regrowing."
"So removing the shoots lets the prisoners out?" she queried, frowning.
"Shit," Stiles cursed at Marcie's question, then looked to Derek. "How many shoots can you scent?"
"Four," Derek replied.
"The Nemeton wasn't fully charged until the Darach, so that's... Nogitsune, Dread Doctors, Ghost Riders, and... what else?"
"Beserkers," Derek suggested.
"We never did find out how they appeared with Argent," Stiles agreed. "You're sure there's nothing else?"
"Nothing I can scent," Derek said, shrugging.
Marcie's phone chimed with a message. "The others are at the station and waiting for us. The Sheriff's worried we're out here in the dark," she added, looking around nervously.
"We'll head there now," Stiles said. "I thought there'd be something more here, but without knowing who removed the shoots, it's a dead end," he said, sighing.
Derek took his hand as they headed from the Nemeton back to the Jeep. "At least we know that someone's actually doing this on purpose. Once is a mistake, twice is a coincidence - "
"Three times is a pattern," Stiles finished. "So what's four?"
"Annoying," Derek muttered, Stiles snickering beside him.
"I still can't believe you've got a sense of humour."
"I've always had one, Stiles," Derek replied, rolling his eyes.
"Don't believe it."
"Guys, can you stop flirting? I'd like to get somewhere warm with hot coffee sooner rather than later," Marcie pointed out.
"The station's warm, but the coffee's not hot nor is it great. Actually, it's barely warm and not even good," Stiles said, wincing.
Marcie just rolled her eyes and continued through the forest with Stiles and Derek.
Behind them, a cloaked figure stepped out from between the trees, scentless and soundless. Reaching out with a gloved hand, they ensured that the Nemeton was free from green shoots. Satisfied that the stump was still bare, they continued on their way.
...
End of the sixteenth chapter.