Chapter 8: Talking Buries What Actions Reveal

Threats are made, ultimatums and warnings issued, and bodies are found along with some things Chris would rather Allison not know.

The sheriff woke from his nap on the couch with an awareness that something was out of place. A quick sniff told him that there was nobody in the room with him—that nobody had been in the room since Lassiter dropped off the shift report two hours ago. He grimaced a little even as he "widened his awareness" the way Derek had taught him. It wasn't that it was difficult, or even foreign, anymore. It was just... Insubstantial. Woo-woo stuff that couldn't be included in an incident report.

Not inaccurate, though. He'd had this same kind of feeling before he went to the old Hale place and found Derek there trying (and failing) to breathe without hurting himself.

He was out the door before he was aware he was moving.

"Boss?"

The sheriff forced himself to stop. "Yeah."

"You going out again?" Gus Trejo asked in a carefully non-judgmental voice. "'Cus Sheriff Dowd's supposed to be here in an hour, and you said you wanted to be here for that."

Michelle Dowd, retired seven years, had offered to look after the night desk while they were short-handed. Said she didn't sleep through the night anyway. Also said she'd do her own paperwork, but she wasn't filing anybody else's.

The sheriff did want to be here to say hello and thank you. He made himself wait as the feeling of desperation and fear, anger and pain grew and sharpened. It was an expanding balloon inside his head, pressing out, pressing harder and harder, demanding that he move. Do something, anything. He was shaking Michelle's hand, genuinely thankful his predecessor was coming in even part-time, when the balloon... Disappeared.

It wasn't even like a pop, because there was no sudden expansion of pressure, just suddenly his head was his own again.

There was still something, though.

As soon as Michelle was settled in with Lassiter, who would teach her the new dispatch system, the sheriff grabbed his keys.

"I shouldn't be long," he said to Gus, who'd also hung around to shake Michelle's hand. "Just wanna check something out."

"Uh-huh," Gus' voice was as carefully free of skepticism as it had been free of judgment. The deputy shifted his belt. "I guess it's gonna be like old times. Except, nowadays, I let you drive."

"You say that every time," Noah pointed out. Gus just grinned and grabbed his jacket.

Which is how he and Gus ended up looking down at the half-buried upper-body of an emaciated drifter while ex-Sheriff Dowd directed the coroner to the site.

"Isn't this how we found that Hale boy's sister?" Gus didn't make it a question.

"Yes, it is," The sheriff answered anyway. "It most certainly is."

"I thought Peter Hale killed his niece to, you know, ascend." Gus lowered his voice as if the local flies were interested in werewolf stuff. Which, given how weird his life had gotten recently, the sheriff had to admit was possible. God, he did not want supernatural bugs on top of everything else.

"The ME said she was bisected post-mortem."

"Hale killed her. Then someone else came along and chopped her in half," Gus finished.

The sheriff nodded. "One of the ways to make sure a werewolf doesn't heal from their injuries is to cut them in half."

"Silver bullets?" Gus asked.

Noah shook his head. "Apparently not. It'll hurt like hell, but get the bullet out, and I'd heal."

"Then why're you wearing a vest?" The sheriff gave him a flat look. Gus grinned. "Stiles?"

"Stiles," Noah confirmed with a sigh. He had to control an automatic flinch at the smell of the dead body. He was guiltily glad he hadn't been a werewolf when they'd found Laura Hale's body. She'd been dead for a week, and if his current sensitivity to scent was standard, he wouldn't have been able to get within 20 yards of her.

Hard to believe it had only been two months since those joggers had reported finding half a body. Less than two months—his world had changed because his son had taken Scott out to look for Laura Hale's severed body.

Something occurred to him and he turned on his radio. "If anybody catches my son heading toward the scene, feel free to cuff him to a tree."

"I wonder if many werewolves wear vests," Gus asked. "Like, would hunters expect them to be wearing body armor?"

Noah tried to remember if he'd ever seen Derek in a vest. "I think werewolves just rely on being faster and stronger, so I wouldn't plan for it." An idea teased his mind. "However, experienced hunters would know to bring a sword to the fucking forest." He crouched as close to the body as he dared. Gus followed him down. "They knew he was a werewolf, and they killed him for it."

Noah's claws were out, and probably the sideburns too. Gus gave him a cautious look, but waited patiently as Noah calmed his wolf. He gave a nod when he had it back under control.

"Is this the one who was eating the livers?" Gus asked.

The sheriff gave a cautious sniff. "I think so."

"So did they kill him because he was eating people, or because he was a werewolf?" Gus asked.

Noah had to shrug. Noah tried not to feel guilty about it. If he hadn't stayed to welcome Dowd back to the station, if he'd left when the urge first hit him, would the man still be alive? Or would they both be lying in the dirt with a bare covering of half-rotted leaves and a scrape of dirt.

"That is a sick, sick thing." Gus shook his head sadly.

They both rose to their feet. The sheriff noticeably quicker than his friend. "Is it sick enough to come to the FBI's attention?"

"Silver Bullet Security Services does business all over the western states," Gus replied.

The sheriff nodded. "And Chris Argent moves with their business. Maybe we can match some FBI cases with places they've been."

The deputy made a face at bringing in the 'feebs' but didn't argue. "I'll call them on Monday."

-o0o-

A quiet moment between classes. A dim corner in an empty hallway. It wasn't much, but it was enough for Allison to pull Scott closer and give him a kiss.

"What was that for?" he asked even as he leaned closer.

"Are you complaining?"

"Absolutely not," he whispered. His breath tickled her cheek. An inch more and they'd be kissing.

Allison wanted to be kissing Scott.

She tipped her head...

"Aw, look! It's George Romero's Romeo and Juliet. Live action remix."

"Does your daddy know what you're sleeping with?"

Scott's eyes flashed gold. He turned, keeping himself between Allison and the twins. "Does yours?"

The one on the right, Ethan, smiled. "He'd like Danny."

Scott gave a little shrug of agreement. "Everybody likes Danny."

Aiden smirked. "And Lydia would scare the old man shitless. No fangs required."

They sounded so smug. Allison stepped out from behind Scott. "If you hurt either of them, bite either of them, I'll kill you."

Aiden's smirk only deepened. "You'll try."

Really? Allison thought. They'd just mentioned her father? "I'll ask my family to help."

That shut them up for a moment. Not long enough.

"One less Argent. One less sociopath." Aiden wasn't smiling now.

Scott snorted. "That's rich. From what I've heard of the Alpha Pack, you're all murderously crazy."

Ethan sneered at him. "What do you know about us?"

"Derek says 'hi'," Allison answered.

"Playing patty-cake with his intestines." Scott shook his head. "That doesn't exactly say 'good mental health'."

Allison swallowed her shock: is that how Derek had been hurt? The twins shifted a little, looking away in uneasy guilt.

"Why did you do that?" It burst out of her. "My aunt could at least justify her sadism by asking for the identity of the Alpha. What's your excuse?"

Ethan and Aiden shared a look. Small smiles lifted their lips, and whatever guilt they'd felt about injury Derek was gone. "We want to know who your alpha is, of course," Ethan said.

Scott looked between the two of them in disbelief. "No way."

Their smiles widened. "Yeah," Aiden said. "Way."

Ethan leaned in. "So c'mon, Scotty. Tell us who your alpha is. It's not Chris Argent, or he'd'a committed suicide by now—"

What?

"What!" It was practically a screech, but Allison didn't care. "Why would he commit suicide?"

Again, the twins exchanged looks—smug, arrogant, don't-we-know-so-much-more-than-you, looks. Allison had no patience for it. She stepped close to them, forcing them to breathe her scent. Scott shifted with her, covering her back. "Why would he commit suicide?" She stared at Ethan, refusing to blink.

Ethan looked at Scott. "It's one of your family's more endearing legacies—"

"Like your stupid 'Code'," Aiden mocked.

"Death before furriness."

"Of course, they never call it suicide," Aiden continued.

"That would be embarrassing," Ethan said with wide-eyed, over-the-top seriousness.

"Instead they blame the werewolf that bit them. They tell everyone that the werewolf 'killed' them." Aiden tipped his head. "Gives you all one more reason to hunt us."

"Not that hunters need a reason."

"Just like we don't really need a reason to kill you." Aiden cooed at her.

Behind her, Scott growled and Allison knew if she could see his eyes, they would be golden. They were all going to hulk out in the hallway. "Why do you want the name of Beacon Hills' alpha?" she asked. "It's not like you need another one in your pack."

The twins backed up, exchanging secret-language looks. There was something in their expressions, though, that said they didn't actually know the answer—they hadn't been told. It meant that not all the alphas in the Alpha Pack were equal.

"You know who it is," Ethan said, voice filled with disbelief.

"Everybody knows who it is," she replied, using the same condescending sneer that Aiden had used on her. "It's not that hard to figure out."

Behind her, Scott was tense. He wouldn't be happy revealing Sheriff Stilinski as the alpha because of his relationship with Stiles, but she hadn't lied. It wasn't that hard to figure out. Most of the details had been filed in court for Kate's arraignment, which meant they were public record. If it wasn't her father and it wasn't Kate, then it was either Stiles or his father They'd been the only others close enough to Peter Hale to stab him.

"Holy shit. It is the sheriff," Aiden said with a laugh. "We thought that was a joke!" Scott growled, but Aiden seemed legitimately amused by it. His face and, and his being, freed from the heavy I'm-a-badass-on-serizbizniz vibes he usually exuded. If this is what he looked like when he was with Lydia, Allison could understand her friend's attraction. (A little. Kinda. Actually, no. Not at all.)

"Good luck getting him to do anything for you," Scott growled.

"He's just one guy." Aiden's laugh was back to being dark and mean. "One new alpha with two half-assed betas. What's going to stop us?"

Before Scott could jump on either of the twins, the bell rang and the hall filled with students let out of school. They were loud and obnoxious, and they pressed in on the small group. Thankfully, the twins weren't far enough into supervillainy to be okay with hurting a bunch of innocent teenagers, so with a final sneer and a shoulder-shove, they merged into the crowds.

Allison and Scott watched them go.

"We gotta warn Mr. Stilinski," Scott said.

Allison wasn't sure what good it would do, but she definitely agreed.

-o0o-

"Go home, Stiles," the sheriff said into his phone.

"But they threatened Scott and Allison!" his son said. "They wanted to know who you were. Or not 'who' but 'what'. And by 'what' I don't mean you being the sheriff."

"Yeah, I got that the first time you explained it to me."

"So you need to have backup," Stiles pressed.

"I already figured that they'd approach me," he said reassuringly. "But I don't think I'm their target. However, I wouldn't object if you and Scott hung out until I can get home."

"We've got lacrosse practice. With the twins."

The sheriff had forgotten that. Had the twins joined lacrosse because they liked the game, or to keep an eye on Scott and Stiles? "Well, at least you can keep an eye on them while you play."

"Yeah, well. I'm not sure the twins are the toughest alphas in the group."

"Stiles," the sheriff said firmly. "I am aware of the danger the Alpha Pack represents. Just as I'm aware of the danger of every traffic stop I perform. I have my vest. I have the dried wolfsbane. I have that silver-coated knife you made for me. I'm being as careful as I can be and still do my job."

On the other end of the phone, he heard Stiles sigh. It was sad, but accepting. "Fine. We'll be done in an hour."

"You'll stick with Scott?" he asked, remembering what Chris Argent had said about Deucalion attacking the families of targeted alphas. It wasn't great—Scott was about as fearsome as a puppy—but it should be enough.

"Yeah. I'll drag him home for a COD battle."

Noah comforted himself with the thought that, just as he probably wasn't a target, Stiles and Scott probably weren't targets either. The Argents still didn't know that Scott was a werewolf, and the Alpha Pack had no reason to go after him. He managed to get off the phone with Stiles when his son was called to class. It was perfect timing, because as soon as he pressed the end call button on his cell, his desk phone rang.

"Stilinski."

"Hey, Sheriff. It's Gary George from Clark County." That was the sheriff's office closest to Las Vegas. "We met at last year's conference?"

Noah threw his mind back to the National Sheriff's Association Conference. It took him a moment but he finally placed his caller. American Indian, late-30's, very opinionated member of the Youth and Juvenile Justice Committee. "Using de-escalation techniques when facing aggressive youths and adults."

There was a low chuckle. "Yeah, that's me."

"It was a good talk." It had been interesting, and George's examples had been well-chosen and easy to remember.

"Thanks," George replied. "I'm calling because I've got a guy here who lists Beacon Hills on his application, and I'm just wondering what the story is."

They talked about the deputy (Lopez, who was planning on attending law school at UNLV), then it devolved into chatting and catching up. Noah managed to get in a couple inquiries about dissected corpses and the Argents, but George couldn't tell him anything new. They hadn't had anything that weird happen in Clark County for a long time.

Noah tried not to envy him.

-o0o-

When Allison got home it was to the fake quiet of her parents and grandfather sitting in the front room sipping whisky and reading current event magazines. Instinctively she didn't want to go in there. There was too much tension. The possibility of violence was too high. Unfortunately, she had news to report and questions to ask.

She took one step into the room.

Her mother looked up. "Allison! How was your day?" Her smile was tight, but still genuine. She was making an effort to be normal.

"There are two werewolves at the school."

Gerard snorted an ugly laugh. "And you said he wouldn't turn anyone."

"They're part of the Alpha Pack."

That shut Gerard up. It also focused all the adults' attention on her. Allison swallowed. "They started school maybe a week ago?" (Nearly two weeks, but she'd forgotten to tell her parents and they hadn't been threatening before today, so it didn't count.) "They were always kind of creepy, but I'd never spoken with them before today."

"Why did you speak with them today?" her mother asked.

"They wanted to know who the Alpha is," she answered. "They knew I was… That the Argents are hunters. They sort of threatened to bite you, because then you'd commit suicide." She looked between her mother and father, watching their guilty reaction. "That's not true, is it? You wouldn't kill yourself over that, would you?"

This time Gerard's snort was mocking. "You'd rather we live as monsters?"

She turned on him. "You don't have to be a werewolf to be a monster." It had become her mantra.

Gerard turned to her parents. "This—this—is what you get if you don't train children prop—"

"Is that what you called it?" her father bit out.

"That's enough," her mother said to both of them, but she kept her eyes on Allison. Allison refused to look away.

"You'd do that?" Her chest felt tight. She couldn't get a full breath.

"It is the Hunter way."

She could feel her heartbeat in her ears, her neck—in her damn fingertips! "You'd just leave me—leave Dad, because of some damn code?"

Victoria shifted forward on her chair, but she didn't get out of it. She didn't even really look upset. "You don't understand."

"No, you don't understand." Allison's fists were clenched. "You'd rather not be with me, not see me grow up, have children. Learn and grow and be because you turn furry once a month. I'm less important to you than your damn pride!"

Finally there was an emotion on Victoria's face. Unfortunately, it looked more like exasperation than understanding or regret. "Would you rather have to kill me the first time I lost control and tried to kill you, or your father?"

"Is your will so weak that you couldn't learn to control it?" Allison shot back. "The sheriff has. And the unknown beta has too, or else you'd already know who it is." That made them look at each other. "And if you did know who it was, you'd've probably killed them."

"It's a different situation," Gerard said.

"Is it?" Allison shot back. "The sheriff found the body of a vagrant out in the woods. He'd been cut in half."

"What!?" At last her mother sounded angry. The glare she shot at Gerard should've left streaks of fire in the air.

"Stiles told me. He's worried that someone—" she stared at her family "—will go after his father."

"His father is a grown man," Chris said.

"He's a werewolf," Gerard said with a sneer.

"He can look after himself," Victoria finished.

Allison was disappointed in her parents though she knew she shouldn't have been. "You all would be okay leaving Stiles an orphan? It's not like he has a parent to spare."

"We hunt those who hunt us," her father said as if it excused anything. Allison found herself echoing her grandfather's eye-roll.

"For Heaven's sake, Allison, we're not racists," Victoria said.

Her mother honestly believed it.

Allison looked at her parents, looked hard. Were they too attached to killing to even question their stupid rules and their too-vague code that they didn't even seem to follow. "I don't think you were defending anyone when you killed that vagrant. I don't think you cared if he had actually hurt anyone living. You didn't care period. In another time, you'd've hunted Blacks or Chinese and thought you were doing a good deed. Just 'pest control'."

Both her mother and Gerard protested. Her father, though, looked like she'd slapped him.

This was worse than finding out her aunt was torturing Derek Hale, and had killed Derek's family.

"You are racist. Unwilling to share your world with anyone who's not exactly like you." Allison's tone was bleak. "I'm going to go stay with Lydia tonight. Maybe tomorrow too. I need to think."

Gerard stepped forward menacingly. "If you tell anyone—"

Allison's laugh was bitter. "They'd slap me in Eichen House. I'm not going to tell anyone anything. I need to think."

"Allison." Her father's voice was gentle. Full of understanding and heartbreak. He stepped forward as if to hug her. She stepped back.

"How can you not see that we're the bad guys?" She turned around and ran up the stairs. It wouldn't take her long to pack a couple things. She'd call Lydia, and she go over to her friend's place, but really, she wanted to be with Scott.

Scott who was a werewolf, but also nice and normal and not eager to murder anyone.

-o0o-

It was quiet except for the quiet thumps of Allison's feet on the stairs, until her bedroom door slammed shut. Then it was as if the volume had been turned back up. Gerard yelled at them for being 'too soft' on Allison. Victoria yelled at Gerard about his carelessness in disposing of the omega's body, and Chris… Chris let it flow around him. Around and around while his daughter walked out the door.

They'd had another child once. But the pregnancy had been difficult. Different blood types, they'd said. Victoria's body treated it as an infection rather than an embryo. They'd done what they could, of course, but in the end, Victoria's body had won and their second child hadn't been born. There'd been complications with that as well. Afterwards, the only way they could've had another child together was through in vitro and surrogacy, and it just seemed easier to… Not.

Victoria had been a little relieved at the news. She'd tried to hide it, but Chris had noticed. She wasn't naturally maternal, and in the end, she'd been happy enough to stick at one.

Did she not even notice it was going down to none?

He dragged himself back to the conversation—argument—between his wife and his father.

"I gave you one instruction. One," Victoria said, voice hard and cold. "Laura Hale's body was found in the exact same condition, and the sheriff's office is in the know."

"You can't think I had anything to do with Laura Hale."

"Of course not." Such was her control that Victoria didn't even flick an eyelash in Chris's direction. Chris tried to comfort himself that Laura Hale had already been dead—killed by her uncle. It didn't help. "But hemicorporectomies aren't that common, either before or after death."

"What she means is it's too recognizable. Once is an incident, twice may be a coincidence, but three times is a pattern," Chris explained, ignoring his father's disdainful look. "If it happens again, Stilinski will call the FBI to report a suspected serial killer."

Gerard snorted derisively. "Given what he is? I find that highly unlikely."

"You need to correct your assumptions," Chris snapped. "Sheriff Stilinski is, first and last, a member of the law enforcement community."

The silence was thick, and Chris could see his father struggle to accept the reprimand. He wouldn't, of course. Gerard would pretend to, or he would redirect, but nothing would change his mind.

"Doesn't change the fact he's a werewolf." (Redirection: Chris had nailed it.) "A werewolf in a position of trust and authority." Gerard shook his head. "It needs to be taken care of."

Victoria's chin came up. "Chris and I will do that. He's in an elected position, so that makes him vulnerable to charges of incompetency."

"Except he's not," Chris pointed out.

"People are fickle," Victoria said. "And popularity is fleeting."

"Especially if the country-bumpkin sheriff can't solve a simple homicide. Or two," Gerard said with a smirk. "Who knows? The death of the omega might call all his investigations into question."

"Oh no." Chris crossed his arms so he didn't try to punch his father. "Don't try to claim that letting the omega be found was part of any grand plan for saving Kate."

"Kate at least knew what her primary duty was," Gerard said.

Chris opened his mouth to argue, but Victoria beat him to it. "Part of her duty was to the family. Just as it is part of your duty." She lifted her chin. Victoria's face was a mask of cold stone, but her voice shook, a slight tremble that others would probably mistake for anger. Chris knew it was fear. It was taking everything his wife had to reprimand a male clan elder. Chris took a step closer to her back, letting her feel his heat and his support.

"Just like Kate, you lied to us about your reasons for coming here," she said firmly. "You have consistently argued with and belittled our strategies and my decisions. And then you ignore my one instruction when handling a matter so inconsequential it could've been done—and done as ordered—by the rawest member of Chris's team, and now you're trying to claim it was planned?" She shook her head. "You have endangered the family, and I have no faith that you won't do it again. Therefore, you will leave Beacon Hills in the next 24 hours."

Gerard sputtered, "How, how dare you—"

She leaned forward. "If you disobey me in this, I will get you removed from the Argent clan. Argent territory will be closed to you. Argent aid will be denied you, and the Argent name will be taken from you."

Gerard looked like he'd swallowed a porcupine. Two seconds away from hitting his daughter-in-law. Chris stepped in front of his wife. His father registered the move, and it was enough for him to draw back. His features smoothed out. He took a tight, unhappy breath. "I will, of course, obey your command. But you two are fools if you think you've got this under control."

Gerard turned around and strode to the stairway. Anger making his steps as strong and sure as they'd been the last time Chris had seen his father eight years ago. That visit had been a disaster, too.

"Should I talk to Alliso—"

"No," Victoria snapped. She took a breath, gathering her composure around her like a shield. "Her emotions are too high right now, and I think our first priorities have to be the Alpha Pack and the sheriff. Once those have been dealt with, then we can deal with Allison." Victoria jerked her head, almost looking at him but not quite. "Gerard is right in one respect: we have been too lenient with her. That she would castigate what we do—our calling..." She sighed, and he brought his hands up to her shoulders.

"We'll have time to explain it better. Once things are quiet again." Chris squeezed her shoulders gently, trying to take away her tension. "However," he went on, "I think we should be more concerned with locating the second beta. We already know about the sheriff, and if he ever shows signs of losing control… Well, most of his actions are public. The second beta could be anyone, and they could be anywhere, doing anything."

By the time he'd finished stating his case, Victoria had turned fully to look at him. "You like the sheriff."

"I like stability, predictability, and the sane alphas give us that. They keep their pack under control and they understand what will happen if they mess with civilians in any way." It was his turn to sigh. "When Talia Hale was alive, she had a lot of influence with the other packs. She had common-sense. She was pragmatic. We could concentrate on the creatures that were actively hunting humans, instead of chasing everything that's different."

"'Evil is as evil does'?" Victoria's lips turned down unhappily.

He gave a rueful shrug. "Allison wasn't wrong."

"You want Allison to say we're the Good Guys," Victoria summed up.

He gave her shoulders another squeeze and a gentle shake. "We've had a request for information about were-coyotes in Arizona, and you know it must be bad if Araya Calavera's asking for help. If the sheriff has Beacon Hills under control, then we should help her."

Victoria laughed softly. "That old battle-axe. I thought it would take the Apocalypse for her to ask anyone for anything." Chris smiled, but his mind hooked on something else.

"When I met with the sheriff, he asked about websites or forums where Hunters traded information."

"What?"

"I didn't tell him that we didn't do that," he continued. "But it made me wonder why not? I mean, there are websites where people exchange information about everything—anything. Why not how to hunt the supernatural without being killed?" Victoria opened her mouth then shut it, because she knew as Chris did, that there was no way the Hunter clans would put their secrets up on the internet when they could barely stand to do it over the phone.

One of the doors upstairs closed and a heavy tread sounded on the floors. They stood silently as Gerard walked down the stairs with his suitcase and his gun case. He didn't look at them, and they didn't say one word as he walked out the door.

"We don't trust the monsters," Chris said softly. "And we don't trust each other. What kind of people are we?"