Chapter 10: By Themselves, Sticks and Stones Hurt Nobody

Chris helps out, Allison sneaks out, the Sheriff makes a statement, and Gerard still has Stiles.

"What the hell is he thinking!"

Victoria didn't answer him, but the look on her face was forbidding as she led the way into the office.

Two Beacon County sheriff's were poking around their house, asking invasive questions, and passing silent judgement on them—for what, Chris had no idea, but every moment had grated.

"Doesn't he care about the damage he's doing to us? To our business?" Chris continued, pacing a tight circle around the room.

Victoria lifted the secure phone, and dialed. "We have and will continue to provide all possible assistance to the police in this matter," she said. "Phone Allison and let her know my decision."

He nodded acknowledgement. He pulled out his cell even as Victoria's call went through to Chris's Aunt Elizabeth, the head of the Argent clan in North America.

"Elizabeth. It's Victoria. I'm calling about my father-in-law," she said into the phone. "We need to begin the process of désaveu." [disavowal]

-o0o-

Noah and Astiago had moved back to the lacrosse field, closer to the parking lot. Astiago was still relaying updates from his people at the station and out on the streets, still standing beside him as sideburns sprouted and disappeared as he fought his anger and worry.

He was doing better now.

He kept one hand on the dirt, following the energy point that was his son. It hadn't gone out the highway. Instead, it had stopped at chain motel just on the edge of the town, and then moved back towards the center.

Haigh and Newman had gone to that motel. The desk attendant had recognized Gerard Argent, and remembered the men he'd been with. "Cold, man. Never a nice word for anybody." They'd suddenly paid their bill and left. "Just this evening."

Since they'd checked out, management had let the deputies in without a warrant, and now Newman was passing information on to Astiago, who was giving it to Noah.

"Take-out menus, and a book of crosswords," Astiago reported. "No obvious clues as to where Argent would take Stiles. They're going to check for fingerprints and get Tara to run them. Maybe they can get real names." The rooms had been booked under the name 'Silver'. Hardly clever.

The sheriff hummed non-committedly. Knowing the names of Gerard's posse wouldn't tell him if they were part of this with Gerard. It might help with the investigation after, but it didn't help them find Stiles now.

The speck that was Stiles stopped moving again, back on the fringes of town. Was it their final destination?

His phone rang. He looked at the screen. It was Stiles' number.

"Mr. Argent."

"Stilinski."

"Before we can talk, I need proof of life." It maybe wasn't the most diplomatic way to put it, but Noah didn't care.

Gerard chuckled. "Of course."

There was scuffling in the background. Stiles being dragged over to the phone? Muffled noises that could be a voice talking behind a gag. Cursing that had definitely not come from either his son or Gerard, so that meant that at least one of Argent's henchmen was with him.

"Dad!" Stiles shouted. "These guys are assholes. All three of them, but especially the old one."

Jesus! His son was an idiot—brave, smart, and still an idiot. Noah wasn't surprised when Stiles' info dump was followed by the sound of fist hitting flesh.

"Stiles, don't!" he shouted back. "I don't need you to tell me that stuff. Your job is to keep yourself safe."

"Well, he's doing a piss-poor job of it," Gerard's voice oozed. "Poor discipline at home, I imagine."

The sheriff ignored Argent's taunting. "I'm satisfied that my son is alive and that you didn't play a recording. Thank you for your cooperation." Rote words. Impersonal. Nothing for Argent to hook into and poke Noah's temper with. "Are you ready to discuss what you want out of this?"

"I want your head on a pike. Isn't that what I'm supposed to say?"

Calm, calm. Soothing and neutral, Noah reminded himself. "You can say whatever you want, Mr. Argent. I'm listening."

He was supposed to use Gerard's name a lot, remind him that he was a 'regular' person, but somehow, the sheriff didn't think the werewolf hunter would appreciate being on a first name basis with him. Plus, Noah didn't want to use Gerard's first name. If he tried to pretend there was a rapport between the two them, the sheriff thought he'd puke.

"In that case, I would like to meet you—just you—at a location of my choosing. We'll talk, and if I like your answers, I'll release… Stiles?" He said the name as if it was infectious.

Beside him, Astiago was shaking her head. "Absolutely not," she whispered.

"When and where," the sheriff responded.

"Oh no," Gerard said. "I'll only give you the details once you're alone. Remove your radio and your service belt. Leave everything behind but your cell phone. Then go to your son's car—I know you have a set of keys for it—and drive away."

"Drive where," the sheriff asked. He was already unclipping the handset from his shoulder strap.

"I'll tell you that once you're alone," Gerard answered. "Now, strip off your weapons. After all, you're a big, bad Alpha now. You don't need guns to be dangerous. Isn't that right?"

"Nobody needs guns to be dangerous, Mr. Argent. They just need an excuse."

"Or a worthy cause," Argent barked back. Noah heard him take a steadying breath. "I'll give you further instructions once you're on the road. Five minutes, sheriff."

Noah ended the call and shoved the phone in his pocket. He transferred the jeep's spare keys from one of the small pouches to his pants pocket. He secured his weapon before snapping it into his holster and handing it to Astiago.

"This is a really bad idea, Sheriff," Astiago said, taking the weapon and belt from him.

"I'm aware of that."

He lifted a hand to unbutton his shirt, then stopped. Like most police officers, he wore his ballistic vest under his shirt. It was standard issue, and Argent had to know that. However, the hunter hadn't mentioned the vest like he had the weapons, and it would give Noah protection against most bullets and some protection against blades. He dropped his hand. He was keeping the fucking vest.

"Let everyone know to keep an eye out for Stile's jeep instead of my cruiser." He shook his head. "I can't believe he suggested I get into something even more distinctive than my police car."

"He knows cruisers are lo-jacked?"

"Hmm, probably," the sheriff agreed. "And he may have me switch cars."

"Wanda will be looking for it on the traffic cams." She shrugged because it wasn't the best plan, but it was the best they'd been able to cobble together in the ten minutes since Gerard's last call.

He climbed into Roscoe, surprised when he didn't have to adjust the seat. When had Stiles grown so tall?

Astiago's radio crackled. It was Tara. "They got one of the minions," Astiago reported as if Stilinski hadn't heard it for himself.

"He was in the apartment across the street from here, just like you said," she went on. "That means I can come with you now. Hide in the back, at least until the next checkpoint."

Noah looked at his son's jeep. He hadn't put the top on so the back was fully exposed to whoever looked in it. "Can't risk it." He took off his belt and handed it to her.

"If you get killed freeing him, Stiles won't forgive you. You know that, right?" She had to jog a little to keep up with him. "Neither will Gus or Tara or Wanda, or Lassie or any of us at the downtown station."

Noah stopped and sighed. "I am very glad you stayed, Astiago. I will miss you if I do get killed, but I am absolutely not planning on that happening. You know that, right?" He stared at Astiago until she nodded.

Now he just had to make the plan work.

-o0o-

Allison watched the backs of the two deputies sent to protect them.

Sent to keep them away, more like.

Why had she agreed to come to the hospital with Scott? Why had Scott agreed to come to the hospital when his best friend was in danger?

Beside her, Scott was doing breathing exercises she thought were Lamaze. Given how tight his grip on her left hand was, the breathing technique wasn't helping.

"If I call Lydia, she could come pick us up," Allison suggested.

"Mr. Stilinski would kill us."

"He has to survive my grandfather first." She kept her voice low. "Dad might not like him much, but he does respect Gerard as an effective Hunter."

Scott squeezed his eyes shut, and Allison knew it was to hide the gold glow as he fought for control over his wolf. "We don't even know where to go."

Allison leaned forward. "I thought Betas could track their Alphas through the pack bond."

"He's not my alpha." Scott's protest was weak from repeition, and Allison's frowned in confusion.

"How is he not your Alpha?" she asked. "He's the father of your best-friend. You spend half your free time in his house. You listen to him as if he was an Alpha."

It was Scott's turn to frown. "He's the sheriff. Not listening to him would get me in tons of trouble with my mom."

Allison sat back, looking at the back of the two deputies in front of waiting room.

"Do you not want him as your Alpha?" she eventually asked him. "I mean, you already know what he'd be like: exactly the same as he's been your whole life."

"But alphas… Don't they want to control you? That's what Peter wanted." Scott looked thoughtful.

"I don't know." Allison frowned. "I mean, Peter Hale was crazy, and I don't know how much I can trust what my parents told me about werewolf behavior."

Scott looked thoughtful, but Allison didn't push. Having acknowledged how messed up her family was and how that would likely affect how she reacted to female authority figures, she could hardly give Scott a hard time about how he reacted to male ones.

There was a TV in the corner. It was on Nickelodeon but the sound was off. Allison watched the cartoon and tried to figure out the plot. It was probably something completely different from what she was imagining, which made it a good metaphor for her life up to now.

"I could give it a try," Scott said quietly, his eyes were also fixed on the weird cartoon show.

She squeezed his hand. "Only if you want to."

"Stiles would do if for me," he said. "Call Lydia; ask her to meet us at the south entrance to the hospital."

-o0o-

Chris had no idea what his father was thinking.

Before today, he had assumed that Gerard would always be motivated by A) the hunt, B) his reputation as a Hunter, and C) staying at the top of the Argent chain of command.

And yet… Silver Bullet Security, and therefore the Argent clan, relied on orders from law enforcement. This one action jeopardized everything. Why would any cop trust them after this?

Victoria had decided that part of stopping those doubts from growing into blacklisting was to help the Beacon Hills deputies bring down his father. Since they all seemed to know that Sheriff Stilinski was a werewolf, Chris had grabbed some of the wolfbane that his father favored while hunting. Just in case. He'd also let them into his armory to stock up, and now he was going with them to their field command center. He was a security consultant, so he was going to consult, and do everything he could to make sure the sheriff and his son come out of this alive.

And if part of him would enjoy bringing down sanctimonious, trouble-making bastard of a father that was completely irrelevant.

-o0o-

"Stilinski," Gerard Argent's voice sounded hollow. The connection between the two phones was weak. It meant the hunter was moving farther away from the town. It wasn't good news for Noah. He only had so many deputies he could call on to watch the roads and relay his position to dispatch. Even though there were fewer roads to watch, there were still more streets than he had deputies.

"Argent," he replied. "I've reached the checkpoint, as you requested. Now, in return, I need proof of life."

"He's still alive," Gerard said.

As if he'd take the hunter's word for it. "I'm sure he is. But it's still protocol to get confirmation."

"Quid pro quo, Sheriff Stilinski? I tell you things, you tell me things," Gerard mocked. Maybe he thought Noah wouldn't recognize the quote. Who hadn't seen that clip from Silence of the Lambs?

"That's exactly right, Mr. Argent," Noah kept his voice monotone. "But let's keep it to the case."

"Hmmm." The sound of breathing faded and Noah figured the old man had pulled the phone away from his face.

Noah strained to hear any background noises, anything he could use to identify where they were keeping his son. It sounded distant and tinny. No cars, no music, no wind in the trees. It could be Hale house, the sheriff thought. Argent would probably think it fitting to attack the new Beacon Hills alpha at the site of his daughter's horrific attack. The graphic reminder that Argents killed children would be an unspoken threat.

"Dad?"

"Hello, Stiles," he said as soothingly confident as he could. "You okay?"

"Dad, you can't come," Stiles pleaded. "You know they're going to kill you." The words were slightly slurred. The sheriff wondered how hard the hunters had hit his son. He wondered how often.

"I figured," he said fatalistically.

"Dad!" His shout cut off, and Noah pictured someone grabbing Stiles by the collar and yanking him away from the phone. He breathed in the scents of his son that were ingrained the old jeep. Under those, so faint he almost didn't recognize them, were Claudia's.

"Are you satisfied, Stilinski?"

"I'm satisfied that Stiles is alive and that you didn't play a recording. Thank you for your cooperation."

"Screw my cooperation," Gerard said with a laugh. "It's your cooperation that matters."

"I'm listening, Mr. Argent."

"No snarling? No useless threats? You're supposed to be an Alpha, and you've got about as much backbone as that mewling Omega."

The sheriff's heartbeat jumped. He forced his voice to calmness. "You mean the transient that was killed in the preserve?"

"I mean the creature that was eating human remains." Gerard's voice was, as usual, condescending and belittling. It made Noah wonder if he had any other tone. "You certainly weren't dealing with it."

"So you did?"

For a moment, it looked like Gerard would say something incriminating. The sheriff heard Argent's inhalation as he prepared to rant, but then he stopped and chuckled as if impressed. "Oh no, Sheriff. We're not here to talk about the past."

"I'll talk about whatever you like, Mr. Argent, as long as you continue to prove to me that Stiles is alive."

"You're pathetic," Gerard spat. "Exactly what I need." The sheriff's eyebrows rose in surprise. That sounded like Gerard actually did want more than to kill him. What could he, as an alpha, do that he, as the sheriff, could not?

Too frigging much, actually.

"What do you need, Mr. Argent," he said mildly. "I'm still listening."

"Get to the still, Sheriff. You know the one I mean. If we're going to be negotiating a deal, we should do it in the appropriate place."

Per procedure, Noah repeated his instructions back. "I'm to go to the old bootlegging still located on Hale grounds. The one where Derek reported some recent vandalism. Is that correct?"

"You know damn well it is," Gerard growled. "And don't pretend you don't know which one I mean. I know you spoke to my son about it."

"Still," the sheriff said, trying hard to remain unruffled and on script. "It's good to have these things clear. No misunderstandings between us."

"If you don't understand me, then your son dies. I think that's incentive enough." He waited a moment, checking if Noah was going to talk back. Noah kept silent. "Come alone. Come on foot. Leave your phone. If I see any of your betas or any of your deputies Stiles will suffer. Do you understand that, Sheriff Stilinski?"

"Perfectly," Noah confirmed. When Gerard hung up, he pulled his fingers out of Stiles' steering wheel. He'd worry about fixing it later. After he'd gotten Stiles back.

"Did you get that?" he said into his phone that he let drop into his lap as if despondent.

"Copy that, Sheriff," Astiago said. "We'll send someone over to speak to Chris Argent to get a location."

"Make sure everyone has full protection and night-vision goggles," he said. "I want them completely equipped."

"Bungalon's already outfitting the team, sir," she confirmed. "Quick update, though: Scott and Allison Argent have left the hospital."

"Damn it," Noah growled. "He'll want to help. If anyone comes across him, set him up at field command with a first aid kit. That should keep him in place."

"Yes, sir." She paused. "Good luck."

Before he could thank her, or give assurances that were more optimism than truth, she hung up.

Since they'd agreed that Gerard would have a man watching him at this checkpoint just as he'd done at the school, the sheriff gave himself a visible shake before lifting the phone back up and carefully turning it off. He made a show of hiding it under the seat along with the keys. (One of his deputies would be along to drive the jeep back to the station.) Once he'd done that, there was nothing to do except begin to jog in the direction of the Preserve.

Noah wasn't sure if it was being a werewolf, or not carrying around the 20-lb service belt, but running was easy. It was even better once he was out of the city and into the woods. It made him alive in a way that he hadn't felt since on patrol in Bosnia. He went faster, and faster, and it was as it had been running with Derek in the forest—exhilarating, no matter what the reason. If he hadn't been going to rescue his son he might have shouted in sheer joy.

Trees were a blur as he passed them, or jumped over them, or used them as a springboard to change directions. He could feel his son's presence ahead of him and to the left.

He could also feel Derek and the Alpha Pack on the move. They were in the Preserve and it felt like they were heading towards the shed as well. That could be problematic. Whoever in the Alpha Pack wanted revenge on Gerard Argent, probably wouldn't care if Stiles made it out in one piece.

Scott was well behind him. Safe from everything except Chris Argent if he ever found out his daughter was dating a werewolf.

He could almost sense his deputies, most with only a handful of scattered days of SWAT training, forming up on the edge of the Preserve, preparing to risk themselves for his son and him.

Good people, all of them.

Without conscious thought, the sheriff paused his run to howl, low and long. "I'm here," it said. "I'm alive!"

-o0o-

Beside her, Scott hunched over, groaning in pain.

"What's wrong?" Lydia demanded. "You better not vomit in my car."

"He's not throwing up." Allison leaned over to cover Scott. "You're not throwing up, are you?" she whispered.

"The sheriff," Scott whispered back. "He's calling."

Allison watched as Scott's eyebrows disappeared and those god-awful sideburns popped out. It was so weird! Weird enough that she hadn't noticed Lydia pulling the car over.

"What's wrong with Scott?" Lydia asked. Followed by a much louder, "Oh my god! What's with his hair?!"

-o0o-

It wasn't loud, not like the first time he'd heard it, but then Derek wasn't standing right next to Sheriff Stilinski either. It still reverberated through his bones like extra-deep bass at a concert. Except it didn't just rattle his lungs—it tried to pull his wolf from inside him.

"You said he wasn't your alpha," Aiden said accusingly from the seat next to his. They were in a large SUV not unlike the ones the Argents used when hunting werewolves. The irony was lost on the Alpha Pack.

Derek rolled his jaw, trying to force his fangs away. "I haven't accepted him as my alpha."

Ethan, on his other side, tugged on Derek's sideburns. "But you want to."

"No!" It was instinctual. But... "I've already lost two alphas—my mother and my sister."

Aiden nodded. "So, you're going to wait to see if this one survives."

"Kind of cold-blooded." the other twin said with a dubious look.

"Smart though" Aiden waggled his eyebrows as if it was a joke.

Derek wanted to argue with them, he really did, but he'd changed his form as a result of the sheriff's call. "I'm not ready."

In the seat in front of them, which he had all to himself, Deucalion turned toward them and smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. "So kill him, and become the alpha yourself."

It wasn't the first time Derek wondered if coming to them for help had been a good idea after all.