Chapter 16: You Can Depend on Change
The sheriff contemplates life after Gerard, Allison and Scott spend quality time together (because she doesn't want to go home), and Chris' Aunt Elizabeth arrives and tells them how it's going to be.
Scott had put Aiden on the hood of Lydia's car. The warm metal would help keep his core temp up, fighting off shock. Lydia didn't object, so Allison knew she was worried.
Ethan got the bullet open, but none of them had a lighter or matches. She turned to her dad, but it took him a minute or so to realize she was talking to him, and that worried her. Her father was usually more aware of his surrounding than that—he had to be. He supervised while they burned the dried flowers, and then they watched as the black lines faded from Aiden's skin.
Aiden whimpered—a weird thing to hear from the once scary-creepy badass werewolf—but he held his brother's hand and smiled up at Lydia. He would be okay.
The wind picked up, and the shed creaked with increasing vigor.
Allison turned to the building in time to watch it tumble down with a mashup of clanging tin and groaning timber. Dust exploded in a cloud, and the light from the still-beaming LED lights reflected on the particles making them flash and twinkle.
Her grandfather's body was still in there.
One last panel fell from the roof and then it was quiet. But only for a moment.
"Oh wow! If only it had imploded like the house in Poltergeist. That would've been cool."
"Stiles! We do not need hauntings on top of everything else."
"'S'okay, Pop," Stiles replied sounding both tired and happy. "I ain't 'fraid of no ghosts." Everybody who heard him groaned. Everybody but her dad.
It was the second time he hadn't reacted to what was going on around him. Once, okay? But twice? Allison was officially worried.
"Dad?" It took a couple repeats for him to break out of his thoughts. "What's wrong?" she asked.
"Sorry," he said. "Just thinking. You called us the bad guys."
Allison's face, from her neck to her hairline, flushed with embarrassed heat. "I'm sorry. That was out of line—"
"You were right," her father interrupted her. "Not all the time. I'd even say not most of the time," he said with a small smile. It didn't last long. "But you were right this time. We were so focused on the werewolves, we didn't notice that Gerard was a human monster."
Allison didn't apologize or try to justify it, because he was right but he wasn't the only one who'd underestimated Gerard. She'd thought him a condescending, blood-thirsty creep, but since her mother had agreed with him a lot of the time Allison...
Well, to be honest, she didn't want her mother to be a homicidal maniac, so she'd softened all of it. Explained it all away as "not really meaning it".
"I should have said something." She couldn't look at her father. If they lost their business—their legitimate business—because she hadn't spoken up...
Her father's hand, large and warm, gripped her shoulder. "Hey. This is not your fault," he said, looking at her intently. "Don't ever think it is."
They weren't a touchy family, but Allison wanted a hug. She justified taking it by saying that they both needed one, but her father didn't argue.
"I'm thinking," he mumbled into her hair. "When we get back home. I'm thinking we need to talk to your mother, and maybe Aunt Elizabeth, about the Argent Code. I think," he continued, still hiding in her hair. "It should be about protecting people, not just about hunting."
"We protect those who can't protect themselves?" she suggested. She'd read it in a book last year and it had stuck with her.
He gave a little huffing laugh. "Yeah. That sounds good."
"We'll do it tomorrow," she said and he laughed out loud.
-o0o-
Noah watched the cheap metal sheeting fall in clouds of years-old dirt and leaves. All those still living had gotten out. Getting out the dead would be for the coroner. Kali, Ennis, Gerard... He wouldn't mourn any of them.
He looked around at his people—cops and civilians, humans all. "You did good tonight, everyone," he said. "Thank you for my son."
There were murmurs in return, most happy, some concerned. Stiles, of course, posed jauntily, as if the past few hours had had no impact on him.
The sheriff felt Bungalon before he saw him. "Jason," he said casually. Bungalon paused in surprise, then stepped up beside him. "How're your people holding up?" Noah didn't mean the physical injuries or any mental recovery the SWAT Team would need after shooting other living beings. They'd fought supernatural beings tonight. There wasn't a training manual for that.
"They're a little shaken. Mostly good," Bungalon replied. "I think HIllard's going to leave. To be honest, I can't blame him. It was a little more intense than I'd expected. Less..." His voice trailed away, unable to finish the thought. It was an unusual show of uncertainty.
The sheriff finished the thought for him. "Less human."
Bungalon's head jerked up. Noah nodded, carefully not looking at his deputy. "Felt that way for me, too. Though, until I fight another werewolf pack, it's hard to know if that's normal or just these bozos." He nudged Deucalion with his knee. Deucalion glared up at him.
"I already told Tara to contact State to send an investigator in." Bungalon's posture was tense, slightly defensive, as he said it.
"Good move. No way I'm going to be impartial about my son's kidnapping."
Bungalon's posture relaxed and Noah realized the man had expected a reprimand for following procedure. They had a SECRET now, and secrets meant outsiders weren't welcome. Except they were necessary.
"You can say whatever you want," Noah said casually. "But the gist of what I'm going to say is that Gerard Argent kidnapped my son as a way of manipulating me. They'll probably assume he was trying to coerce me into changing my testimony against Kate Argent. I won't correct them." Noah crossed his arms, uncomfortable with even this small fudging, but all Bungalon's tension disappeared.
"Derek Hale, Chris Argent, and the rest got involved for their own reasons. Things went sideways as they often do when civilians interfere with police operations."
Bungalon nodded. "The teenagers?"
Noah just gave him a look. "They're Stiles' friends. Did you really think they'd stay out of it?"
Bungalon laughed. "To be fair to McCall, It's usually Stiles dragging him into trouble."
The sheriff easily resisted laughing in return. "I'll talk to D.A. Whittemore. I think community service all round will be sufficient punishment."
"And him?" Bungalon nodded down at Deucalion.
The sheriff sighed. "Obstruction. Interference. A fine. Maybe a restraining order to keep away from the Argents."
"Assault of a police officer." It wasn't a suggestion: it was a standard charge when anyone took a swing at a cop. The SWAT Team Leader wanted to know why it wasn't on the list.
Noah spread his hands. "Do I look assaulted to you?" He knew there were rips in his clothes and blood, but most of the cuts were closing or gone.
"We can document your injuries now," Bungalon said. "Before the wounds disappear."
"And how do I explain that they're gone when the force incident review team gets here?" By the time the FI investigators arrived, there would be no proof of any injury. Certainly nothing to justify an assault charge.
Bungalon stood for a moment, just shaking his head. "Sir. That's messed up."
Noah didn't respond, because what could he say? It was messed up, but it was also the way it was now. Being a "werewolf cop" was going to mean adjusting a whole bunch of procedures.
It was quiet again. Quiet enough that the sheriff heard the big SUV growling its way towards them.
Before he could inform Bungalon, the team leader broke the silence. "It's not always going to be as easy as this one," he said, carefully keeping his eyes on the busy crowd of civilians and cops. "Not all of us are going to–"
"I know," Noah interrupted, acknowledging but not encouraging the topic. Bungalon, however, was trained to talk through those kind of signals.
"Garnsley will try to use it to get you out."
"Hardwicke too. I know. But they'll have to wait until the next election to do it." He'd have time to build his record. Malia Tate might not be the only lost child he could track down. Plus, he'd noticed lots of energy spots scattered around the county. Some of them might prefer a supernatural sheriff.
"As for the others, the ones like Hillard, who don't want to live near a supernatural magnet, we'll just have to hope that self-preservation keeps them quiet about the weirder aspects of what they saw."
"That'll work for a while, but if enough of them tell the same story?" Bungalon sounded only mildly skeptical of Noah's plan. He really was good at his job.
"Now you sound like Trejo."
"That's a compliment," Jason said, lifting his chin. "I'm sure Gus'll have a lot of good ideas about how to stop any real-world Weapon X types from digging around Beacon Hills and you." His response completely sidestepped the sheriff's clumsy attempt to change the subject. It demanded an answer as Bungalon had planted his flag with Noah's and he would sink or swim with him as well.
"I think..." Noah needed a moment to assemble the words for this feeling he had.
….And if premonitions and psychic visions were also part of being a werewolf, he was going to dig up Peter Hale's remains and punch him in the mouth.
"I think the people who can't deal with all this—" He waved his hand around the area, encompassing all that had happened. "Those people will transfer out—"
"We'll encourage them to."
The sheriff nodded. "All the help in the world to find a city that suits them better. And in their place, other people will be drawn here. Maybe not all of them will be completely human, but they should be able to accept a werewolf sheriff who considers them pack."
The first SUV was nearly to the shed. Even with Lydia's car parked in front there was plenty of room for it to park. They'd load Aggersen into the back where they could lay him out flat. Patterson and his ankle could sit in the front. The sheriff and Bungalon went over to help with the loading, and to say a few encouraging words. Hillard wouldn't look at him, and even this close, the bond between Hillard and Noah was faint. He offered a wry "Rough night, huh" and got a half-panicked/half-resentful look in return.
Maybe Hillard would be more relaxed in a week. Maybe not. Maybe he wouldn't show up for his shift one day and the next Noah would hear was a phone call from some other police force asking for his assessment of Hillard's skills.
And that was no different than any other day of the week.
-o0o-
Allison presented her case for the change in motto almost as soon as they got through the door. Not the best timing considering he was hurt and Gerard was dead and everything needed to be explained from the beginning. Including Scott McCall—her boyfriend—as the second Beta.
When the shouting turned into something uglier—after he told Victoria that he supported Allison's position on the motto, and said he might be willing to be flexible about her dating McCall as well. Maybe…
Well, unlikely, but still.
At minimum, he wasn't planning to shoot the kid.
Victoria gave him a look filled with betrayal and rage. She was the head of their branch of the Argent clan. Not him and not Allison. She looked ready to hurt Allison. It was a look that reminded Chris of Gerard's expression in the shed when he'd pointed the gun at Stiles.
Because of that look, Chris drove Allison to Lydia Martin's house for the night.
He tried not to think that one night had the possibility of turning into more…
-o0o-
Saturday morning, Allison woke up in Lydia's spare room. She had the spare room, because Lydia was already sharing her bed with Aiden and Ethan. (Something about sleeping next to pack strengthening the healing process… Whatever.)
Even if there had been room enough for her, Allison didn't want to be sharing a bed with any werewolf but Scott.
It gave her a dilemma though. Once they'd all woke up, Allison realized she didn't want to watch Lydia and Ethan fussing over Aiden, and if she wasn't willing to help out then her presence here could be very, very awkward. It meant she needed something else to do for the rest of the day.
There were phone calls from her parents. She read them; ignored them. No way was she ready to face either of them.
There were texts from Scott…
According to Scott, Stiles was busy fussing over his father who wasn't letting Stiles out of his sight, so did she want to hang out?
Scott won. (As if there was any doubt.)
She waited at the door for him (Lydia and twins had retreated back to her bedroom) so she saw him drive up in his mom's car. He actually got out, and then stood by the car, shifted from foot to foot. He gave her an embarrassed wave, and she realized that he was nervous. As if, he thought her opinion of him would've somehow changed because of last night.
Allison stood and walked straight up to him. "Can I get a hug?" Scott opened his arms. She tucked herself under his chin. As soon as she was wrapped in his warmth all her tension bled away. Scott leaned over her, and she just breathed. Breathed…
"Are you sniffing me?"
Scott froze.
"You are!" Allison couldn't help it she giggled.
"Um, I'm sorry?" His arms loosened and that made Allison frown.
She burrowed back in. "Don't be," and she held on tight while Scott kept his nose in her hair.
Eventually, even she'd had enough of standing on the street. She relaxed her hold. "So where did you want to go?"
"Mengo's?" he suggested. "Comfort food."
Allison considered it: burger and fries did sound good, but Mengo's was always busy, and she didn't want to be anyplace they couldn't talk openly about what had happened last night. Second choice was his place. It actually sounded better than Mengo's when she found out his mom was at work, and they'd have the place to themselves.
It was quiet in Scott's house. Peaceful.
At first, they just talked—about last night, about her fight with her mother, a little about the future. He looked up at her. "Am I in your future?"
She kissed him to prove he definitely was in her future.
And he kissed back.
Then they went beyond kissing—waaaaay beyond kissing—and it was great! Not mind-blowing like in the novels Allison would absolutely deny reading, but fun and definitely worth doing again. Practice made perfect, after all.
She could feel his smile, even though she wasn't looking at his face. She ran her hands over his chest. His skin was so warm and smooth… He didn't have chest hair, but he did have a delicate treasure trail running south from his belly button. She ran her fingers through it just to feel his stomach tighten.
Allison thought of some of the other stories she'd read recently—guilty pleasure fanfics with a certain theme that may or may not have been influenced by finding out her boyfriend was an actual werewolf… Teasing Lydia yesterday hadn't made her any less curious either.
Some of the stories had had a certain theme, but unless Scott was hiding something, they weren't true.
But if they were, she'd have something to hold over Lydia's head for a while (at least until Aidan was fully healed, and Lydia would (presumably) find out for herself.)
It was silly, though. They were fan fics! Amateur stories written by horny teenagers with too many kink-memes in their brains and not enough originality.
It occurred to her, that maybe Scott didn't know himself. They'd met soon after he'd been bitten, and they'd gotten together almost right away. They hadn't had much chance to be alone together, though. In fact, today was the first time they'd gone so far, and well, it hadn't taken them long to get really excited. Maybe Scott's body needed more time for things to, you know, develop.
Maybe he had to have specific stimuli—that could be fun to explore.
However… She couldn't imagine Scott asking Derek a question like that. (Or imagine Derek answering a question like that.)
She wouldn't ask, Allison decided. Too embarrassing for everybody.
"Just ask," Scott said sleepily. "I can practically feel your brain churning."
Allison squirmed. "I can't."
"Sure you can. You can do anything," Scott murmured still smiling. He believed it, too. He believed Allison could do anything, up to and including standing up to her tyrannical mother and her psychopathic grandfather.
Allison took a breath. Took another, because really, this was too silly.
"Just say it." Scott stroked soft fingertips up her arm, making all her hair stand up.
She looked at him. He had a soft smile to go with the soft touch, and he was so completely relaxed and open, that not asking seemed stupider than asking. She cleared her throat lightly.
"So, do you have a knot?"
Scott shot out of the bed so hard, he nearly embedded himself in the roof.
-o0o-
Saturday morning, Chris' Aunt Elizabeth showed up at their door with only a granddaughter for escort. Since she was the leader of the Argent clan in North America, she didn't need anyone else to bolster her authority.
Aunt Elizabeth was his mother's older sister. Elizabeth Marie-Jeanne Argent never looked like a hunter—no hiking boots and cargo pants for her. Instead, she wore business suits and pearls suitable for the CEO of a Fortune 500 company, which Silver Bullet Security Services was. However, her purse had insulated pockets to hold small vials of wolfsbane, mountain ash, ground silver, and holy water. Her sleek BMW had hidden compartments in the trunk and doors where she stored her favorite weapons. She had lawyers, politicians, and academics in her contact list, and she played Mahjong in international competition because chess was "too limiting".
Her granddaughter, Georgia, was exactly like her except in how she dressed. The young woman carried an oversized, military-style duffel bag, and was amazingly quiet in thick combat boots. She limited her interactions with Chris and Victoria to "Nice to meet you," "Coffee's fine," and "I'm just here to observe."
Victoria swallowed whatever fear or resentment she felt at having her aunt-in-law review her decisions, and set everyone up in the front room with refreshments. She didn't let Chris help, so he knew she was still furious with him.
"Shortly before my brother-in-law's death, you requested that we désavouer—disavow—him." Aunt Elizabeth stirred milk into her coffee. She sighed. "If he had lived, désavouer would've been a rubber stamp. Kate's actions brought a lot of attention to us, had law enforcement agencies wondering if we could be trusted. Gerard's actions reinforced those fears. If Sheriff Stilinski speaks out against us…"
"He won't," Chris said. One carefully contoured eyebrow went up. "He is almost rigidly fair. He won't blame all of us for the actions of one."
"And the men who worked for Gerard?"
"Gerard shot them in front of him," Chris said. "Sufficient payback for breaking the law."
"Is it sufficient payback for taking his son and putting him in danger? As an Alpha–"
"As the sheriff," Chris interrupted. "As long as none of our people break the law, Stilinski will let it be settled."
Aunt Elizabeth looked at Victoria for confirmation. It took a moment before Victoria nodded. "As much as I dislike the idea of it, Sheriff Stilinski is known to be fair, honest, and hard-working. Nothing we've discovered indicates otherwise."
Aunt Elizabeth gave an unhappy hum.
"That's not all." Victoria looked at Chris and nodded, so he took up the tale. "We believe he's told his key people that he is a werewolf."
Both of Aunt Elizabeth's eyebrows went up.
"The SWAT team had wolfsbane-laced bullets," Chris explained. "And I heard he's been working on a training plan for any other supernatural threat they might encounter."
"Heard?" Aunt Elizabeth asked, nibbling on her cookie.
"Overheard," Chris clarified. "During the clean up last night, some of the team talked about the training Stilinski had done with them; how they now understood why Stilinski had pushed it through so fast. They admired him for thinking of it."
Aunt Elizabeth looked at him. "Is he creating a cult?"
Chris shook his head. "From our meeting, I honestly think he just wants to keep his people and the community safe, and that's what the SWAT team was supporting."
Aunt Elizabeth froze. "You met with him? Officially?" Chris opened his mouth to explain. She raised a hand. "No, wait. I want to hear this from the beginning. From the very beginning, and that means from why you decided to return to Beacon Hills. Georgia will take notes." In the corner, Georgia pulled a small laptop out of her big bag and opened it up.
Victoria went first, since it had been her decision to come back here. She gave her report simply and impartially, as was her usual style.
When Victoria reported that she'd set men to follow Derek, Aunt Elizabeth hummed neutral yet condemning.
When Victoria reported that she'd set Gerard to work undermining the sheriff politically, Aunt Elizabeth's lips had twitched up in almost a smile.
When Victoria reported that she'd encouraged Gerard to hunt down the liver-eating Omega, Aunt Elizabeth crinkled her nose as if she'd smelled something bad.
When Victoria reported that Allison had stood against them at the end, Aunt Elizabeth frowned. "Avoidable," she muttered.
Through all of this, it didn't seem to occur to Victoria that some aspects of these tragedies could have been avoided, or at least lessened, if she'd made different decisions. Worse, every word Victoria spoke, her whole posture, said she'd make the same decisions again. Chris looked down at his hands and tried not to be dismayed. Resolution could be admired, but a refusal to learn and to grow…
It struck Chris that anyone not a Hunter would think her just as psychopathic as Kate or Gerard. There was absolutely no empathy for anyone—not Derek for losing the last of his family. Not Allison, for having all the truths of her life ripped away. Not Chris for shooting his father. Not even for herself, for having to defend decisions made under pressure and with limited information.
He rubbed his temple and wished they'd never come back to Beacon Hills. It had raised too many… uncomfortable questions. And provided no answer that he wanted to live with.
Then it was his turn. He described the instructions he'd received, what he'd done, and the information he'd gathered. Everything matched to Victoria's version. Until Gerard.
He had to tell Aunt Elizabeth—tell someone—the reservations he'd had about allowing that man into their home. He told Aunt Elizabeth all about his coffee meeting with Sheriff Stilinski, and how the Alpha had insisted that the Alpha Pack had the right to be in Beacon Hills as long as they didn't break any laws.
Aunt Elizabeth hummed thoughtfully. She filled her coffee cup from the carafe Victoria had already refilled once.
"I thought Alphas couldn't stand other Alphas in their territory?" Georgia asked. It was funny. She was wearing a plaid shirt garish enough to make even Stiles Stilinski flinch, and Chris had completely forgotten she was there.
Victoria cleared her throat. "While it's generally true that settled Alphas are viciously territorial, Stilinski seems to have subsumed that urge beneath his sheriff's oath. He's unique in my experience."
"Not unique," Aunt Elizabeth said slowly. "But rare. Usually only a True Alpha can be so accommodating."
"Stilinski is definitely not a True Alpha," Chris said. "I was right beside him when he stabbed Peter Hale and became an Alpha."
Aunt Elizabeth hummed some more.
"We've already discussed how his control is remarkable," Victoria said dismissively. "However, he hasn't had his first full moon yet. We'll see how well he does then."
Chris wasn't sure if Victoria honestly thought it would go badly, or just hoped that it would. Either way, he kept his mouth shut about it as Victoria and Aunt Elizabeth discussed ways of dealing with an out-of-control Alpha with a pack, which if not 800 strong, was easily in the double digits. Instead, he took one of Victoria's delicious cookies, biting and chewing with determination, until the women had settled on some contingency plans.
He drank coffee until his aunt finally turned back to him and told him to continue, so he told her about the sheriff's offer to share information, his statement that he'd bring in the FBI if he had to. Those had to be discussed and examined from every angle. Chris had already told them his opinion on Stilinski's actions in Starbucks, so he went to the bathroom.
He didn't look at himself in the mirror. Didn't give himself a stereotypical (and useless) stare silently bemoaning his choices and/or his life. No. He went into the kitchen to grab some more cookies from the jar, and put on another pot of coffee.
When he went back to the sitting room, coffee pot and cookies in hand, Aunt Elizabeth was ready to hear about the rest of Friday. It didn't take long: deputies at their door reporting on his father's kidnapping of the sheriff's son, his offer of help, the stand-off in the Hale's old still.
"He had cancer? That's why he betrayed the Code?" Both Aunt Elizabeth's eyebrows were raised. Even Victoria's anger was temporarily redirected at her father-in-law."
Chris swallowed. "He said he would've sacrificed anyone—me, Kate, Allison—if it meant his survival."
Aunt Elizabeth's hum was flat out disapproving. "Just as well you shot him then. You did shoot him?"
Chris's throat tightened. All he could do was nod. He didn't look up as silence fell. Victoria shifted in her chair, but stayed quiet. The only sounds were the light tapping of Georgia's fingers on her keyboard and the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall.
"I think we'll send his body back to the Mathers to deal with," Aunt Elizabeth finally said. "That way everyone will know that we disavowed him without having to give a public explanation. Of course, I will inform some key people. We don't want anyone else following that particular cure." She shook her head. "A Mather. Perhaps it was a chemical imbalance," she mused. "Something he passed on to his daughter."
Chris' knuckles were painfully white. He forced himself to loosen his grip.
Victoria cleared her throat. "That would put Chris in a delicate position. And Allison, of course, as his granddaughter. People might think he also…"
"No, no, no," Aunt Elizabeth said. "We won't be discussing it outside our little group—not even to save dear Kate. A rumor like that would undermine Chris' effectiveness as Silver Bullet's representative, and he's one of our best salesmen." She gave him a kindly smile. Like she was petting a dog.
Chris squeezed his hands back together. "I'm not a psychopath. Whatever caused their behavior—chemical imbalance, upbringing, fucking genetics—I don't have it."
This time Aunt Elizabeth's smile was full. "Obviously not," she said. "You've kept your head throughout this whole mess." She stretched a hand towards him. "I am sorry for your loss, Chris. He was your father, no matter what he became, but shooting him was probably the best action you could've taken to redeem the Argent name."
Chris swallowed, looking away. "It was the right thing to do."
She tapped the table. "It was also very smart. Now, continue."
So he admitted that he'd shot one of the twins for no reason other than he was a werewolf. He described Ennis' attack and Scott's defense. He told them how Derek had grabbed hold of Kali and refused to let go despite having been impaled only moments before. He spoke of the sheriff and the SWAT team remaining professional all through the standoff and the evacuation. He told them that Deucalion still lived, but had submitted to sheriff. And slowly, pausing to give his wife a pleading look, he told them that their motto needed to change.
Aunt Elizabeth let her coffee cup drop to the table. "That will require further explanation, I think."
Beside him, Victoria folded her arms across her chest. Rejection.
Chris sighed, and told them what Allison had been thinking since Kate had tortured Derek in front of her.
At the keyboard, Georgia snorted. Everyone looked at her. She looked back. "It's obvious. Your daughter's the one who tipped off the sheriff, not his son."
Victoria growled. "Allison wouldn't–"
Georgia shrugged. "Okay. You know her best."
Victoria settled slowly, giving their first cousin-once removed another glare before her expression settled into polite interest. Chris thought it was entirely possible that Allison had reported Kate. She'd had them all signing petitions to free the Sea World orcas and to stop various other practices that were cruel to animals. She donated to kill-free shelters, and handed out pamphlets. She might have seen what Kate did to Derek as torture. Considering Allison said Kate hadn't asked any Derek any questions, it probably had been torture. Or would have been if Derek was human.
And there it was again.
The double-standard of acceptable behavior that he hadn't ever questioned. The double-standard that Allison was so set on changing.
"Allison has suggested that our motto be changed to 'nous protégeons ceux qui ne peuvent pas se protéger eux-mêmes'," he said.
"We protect those who cannot protect themselves?" Aunt Elizabeth repeated. "That is a significant change."
Victoria's polite expression fell away. "I haven't agreed to it."
Aunt Elizabeth sipped her coffee. She cut a glance towards her niece-in-law. "Hunters have always worked in secret, but cell phones and social media are changing the world. Secrets are becoming obsolete. It's only a matter of time before videos are on the internet showing everybody what really hides in the dark." She turned her cup in its coaster, precise quarter turns. "I and some of the other clan leaders are trying to position us as experts that governments can turn to once that happens. A motto—similar to that of many police departments—might help us convince the authorities that we're the good guys." She raised her eyes to stare at them intently. "We need to be the good guys, or we'll all end up like Kate."
Chris felt pinned by that gaze. It was all of Gerard and Victoria's ruthlessness held in brutal check. It was focused on protection rather than hunting, but he realized there was nothing Aunt Elizabeth wouldn't do to make sure that Hunters didn't end up the hunted in the future she could see.
Victoria regained her nerve first, blinking a couple times and giving a quiet cough. "Do you expect us to leave Stilinski in place?"
Aunt Elizabeth looked away, pulling all her intensity back into herself. She tapped her manicured nails against her cup, making hardly any sound at all. "I'd like to meet him first."
"Today?" Victoria asked, raising an eyebrow of her own.
Aunt Elizabeth smiled, shaking her head. "Tomorrow is soon enough. First, I need you to tell me everything you know him, and everything that you were planning on doing to him."
Chris didn't hold back anything, because only the truth would explain why he thought the sheriff should stay the sheriff, especially here in Beacon Hills. Victoria held nothing back because it was more of her decisions she wasn't second-guessing.
"He arrested Deucalion," Elizabeth repeated, voice blank in shock.
Chris nodded. "Deucalion was charged with obstruction, uttering threats, and some other misdemeanor crap. He posted bail, and is sitting in his room at the resort awaiting his hearing. The County Prosecutor has been out to see him."
"Most likely to talk about Kate," Victoria suggested.
"Kate…" Aunt Elizabeth murmured. Her tone wasn't warm. "Is Kate going to plead insanity?"
Chris shook his head. "Not a chance."
They'd continued talking about the sheriff, Kate and Peter Hale until Allison came home. She'd come back to get her school things.
"You're not at home?" Aunt Elizabeth asked.
Allison's chin went up. "I'm staying with a friend for a while."
Victoria sniffed and turned away from her daughter. Aunt Elizabeth saw it all. "Stay for a bit. Tell me the reasons why you think our motto should change."
"It's not just the motto," Allison said passionately. "But our whole attitude towards people who are different to us. How does that make us any different than Hitler with the Jews?" It devolved from there, with Victoria saying they weren't people, and Allison saying they weren't automatically monsters. Neither one of them backing down.
Allison accused all hunters of conditioning their children into unthinking soldiers for a war that didn't need to happen. She gave with examples, and clinical definitions, and they matched events in both his and Victoria's childhoods. Behaviors they had used on her. On their daughter.
It made him want to throw up, and he'd grown up under Gerard.
Victoria, defended their parenting by describing what her parents had put her through, what all Mather children went through. Allison hadn't even gone through half of what a Mather child her age would have experienced.
Allison, trembling but firm, stated, "What they did to you was abuse."
And so the discussion of Kate and Gerard, the investigations and the possible fallout from both, the future of the Argent clan here in Beacon Hills and what to do about the sheriff, was derailed by a kind of intervention. If their lives were a movie, Chris thought, it would've been the emotional climax with crying and hugs, and everything would be rainbows and candy farts from now on.
If their lives were a movie, but it wasn't. It wasn't even close.