Storytime with Rachel F Hundred

His phone rings just as he gets home from his run.

Stiles picks up his cell, frowning at the ID.  “Mrs Boyd, what can I do for you?”

Amelia Boyd clears her throat.  “I was talking with Vernon and he thought I should warn you that I told someone about you helping to find Alice today.”

“Oh,” Stiles blinks.  He pushes his sweaty hair away from his forehead and out of his eyes.  His years of buzzcuts are well over, but he can’t help but think he needs a haircut.  His mind refocuses on the conversation as Boyd’s grandmother continues apologising for giving away his identity to Cora Hale when she’d popped around to the Boyds’ home with a casserole from her mother.

“I just didn’t see the harm,” Amelia says with a sigh, “since she’s not a journalist or from those TV people who keep calling, but Vernon pointed out that we had just agreed to keep your involvement secret without any caveats and so…I am sorry, Stiles.”

“It’s OK,” Stiles says.  “I can’t see Cora Hale running to the newspapers.”

The Hales were notorious for eschewing the limelight despite being pillars of the community.

“Well, I won’t be telling anybody else,” she promises. 

“How’s Alice doing?” asks Stiles, deliberately changing the subject as he takes a swig of water.

“She and the children came over last night for dinner and oh, Stiles!  It was so wonderful,” gushes Amelia.

A few minutes later, Stiles signs off from the call, satisfied that the newly found Alice Boyd is settling back into her old family.  It has to be difficult for her, Stiles considers.  She’d grown up believing the woman who had raised her was her mother, not her kidnapper.  Melanie Alton was awaiting trial at least for her actions. 

And Stiles had been part of bringing her to justice.

Twenty years old, still a college student, and his research on the cold case his Sheriff Dad had given him to help him with an extra credit assignment had been critical in finding Alice and uncovering the truth.    

He knows that his very proud Dad has fielded a slew of offers for interviews from the media and Stiles is grateful.  There’s a small part of him which does want the recognition, but he has plans for a long career in law enforcement and both his Dad and his mentor had been clear that really visible public recognition would potentially create future issues.

He briefly wonders what Cora Hale thought about his involvement before he shrugs the thought away.  He’s not in high school anymore.  He’s not the social outcast sitting alone at lunch, wondering how he’d lost his best friend to Cora Hale just because the Hales bankrolled some ‘experimental treatment’ for Scott’s asthma and he’s not going to obsess about what she might think about his finding Alice.  She’s probably already forgotten; it’s not like she’s ever considered Stiles as anything more than a bug under her superior feet. 

Stiles wrinkles his nose at his own smell.

Time for a shower.

o-O-o

Maybe he’d been wrong to think Cora Hale wouldn’t give a second thought to his involvement, Stiles muses as he takes in the sight of her on his porch.  His eyes dart to his former best friend standing next to her.

Scott McCall offers him a sheepish smile.  “Hey, Stiles.”

Stiles raises an eyebrow at Scott, because really?  He thinks that’s going to magically wipe out years of ignoring him.  He turns his attention back to Cora who’s glaring at him, but her fingers are twisting nervously.

“This is a surprise,” Stiles drawls dryly.  “What brings you to my doorstep?”

“May we come in?” Cora asks brusquely before Scott can reply.

Stiles doesn’t really want to let them inside, but he figures his Dad won’t appreciate getting called out to deal with a screaming match on his own porch.

Not that Stiles is going to have a screaming match with his former best friend and the girl whose family had stolen him away mid-way through high school.

He is older.  He is wiser.  He has let that shit go.

Right.

He steps back anyway and lets them in. 

Scott immediately makes for the den and Cora follows.

They’re both standing in the centre of the room, looking around at the dated wallpaper and family photos in an awkward silence.

“I can’t believe it’s still exactly the same!” exclaims Scott brightly.

Stiles rolls his eyes and gestures for them to take a seat on the old sofa.  He barely waits until they’ve dropped down on the leather cushions before he begins.  “Look, Mrs Boyd told me she’d given my involvement in Alice’s return away yesterday.  If you’re here because you’re curious or wanting the gory details, you can just leave.”

Scott’s face falls dramatically.

Cora clears her throat.  “That’s not why we’re here.”  She takes a deep breath, pushing her long dark hair away from her face and back over her shoulder.  “I need your help – the type of help you gave Alice and the Boyds.”

Stiles feels his eyebrows shooting upwards.  He perches on the arm of his Dad’s recliner and nods at Cora to continue, his natural curiosity taking over.  “I’m listening.”

Cora fidgets with the zip on her leather jacket before sighing.  “My brother Derek has been missing for years.”

“Derek?” Stiles questions, his brow furrowing as he tries to remember which of her brothers Derek is – there’s a few given the number of Hale siblings.

“He’s one of my older brothers,” Cora says, “he was born between Laura and me.”

“Right,” Stiles nods, folding his arms across his chest.  “And he’s missing?  Since when?” 

He doesn’t remember Derek very well.  What he does remember is vague; a distant figure picking up Cora from school, sitting in the distance with the rest of the Hales at recitals and school events.  Stiles can’t recall seeing Derek at all during his own high school years, and he’d taken mental note of every Hale around his best friend at the time.  But that would have been normal since Derek would have been off at college, Stiles muses.

“For years,” Cora grimaces.

She shoots Scott a look and he nods at her giving her encouragement.

Stiles waits it out as she clearly decides whether she’s going to tell him or not.

Cora sighs and leans forward.  “You remember the fire?”

Stiles nods.  The infamous Hale fire had nearly killed the entire family, only to be foiled by an anonymous call to the emergency services calling in the threat of arson.  It was something of a town legend.  Nobody had ever been arrested, the concerned citizen had never come forward, and the whole thing remained unsolved.

“A few weeks after it happened, my Mom said Derek was going away to school in New York,” Cora says.  “He’d been struggling before the fire because his girlfriend died, I think?  Anyway, he was…” she pauses clearly searching for words, “having problems.  The morning Uncle Peter took him away to the school was the last time I saw him.”  She sighs again.  “At Christmas, it was Derek’s seventeenth birthday, Mom had arranged a call so we could all say happy birthday, and when we called…” her lips thin, “the Principal told her that Derek had run away.”

Stiles frowns. 

There’s a lot Cora isn’t saying, or maybe she doesn’t know the whole truth about some of the things she referenced, Stiles muses.  Nobody sends their kid away from the comfort of family a couple of weeks following a major disaster unless there is a major reason.  The fact that Derek ran away from the school…it speaks volumes.

“Uncle Peter went out there straight away while Mom and Dad stayed home to look after us kids,” Cora says.  “He said there was no sign of him.”  She fiddles with her zipper.  “Uncle Peter stayed out there for months looking until Mom called him home.”

“He’s been missing since then?” Stiles checks.

Cora nods.

“Did…haven’t your parents continued searching?” asks Stiles.

“They stopped when Derek turned twenty-one,” Cora says.  “Mom made this announcement that wherever he was Derek was an adult and knew where we were.  It was up to him to contact us or not.”

Stiles gets Talia Hale’s point, but he sympathises more with Derek.  Poor guy gets sent away after a near disaster; Derek had to feel that his family didn’t want him, Stiles imagines.  He knows how lonely feeling unwanted can be.

“Has he contacted you?” asks Stiles.

Cora hesitates almost imperceptibly before she shrugs.  “Every birthday or Christmas we get something.  There’s no note or anything, just flowers or a hamper from Lewison’s in town.  I just know they’re from him.”  Her jaw sets in a stubborn tilt.

Scott looks at him beseechingly.

It’s messy.

It’s a mess.

It’s a Hale mess and Stiles really shouldn’t get involved in it.

Stiles rubs a hand through his hair, wishes momentarily again that he’d had a haircut.  “Did Mrs Boyd explain how I got involved in finding Alice?”

Cora shook her head, sending her dark bangs flying.

Scott looks at him clearly puzzled at the question.

“I’m studying Criminology at Berkeley,” Stiles says.  “My tutor offered an extra credit assignment over the holiday break – we choose a cold case, investigate and provide our findings in an essay – extra credit.”  He pauses.  “I talked the Doc into allowing me to ask Dad for a case here in Beacon Hills.”

“Sounds cool,” Scott says, although his tone gives away his bewilderment.

“I found something,” Stiles explains.  “So, my Dad and the Doc both allowed me to stay on and help the case as part of my assignment until we tracked down Alice herself.”

He can see Cora start to understand.

“I don’t have access to data or anything in the way the police or a private investigator do,” Stiles continues, spreading his hands wide open demonstratively.  “A lot of what I found out was down to the police file and my access to records that my Dad and Doc arranged for me.”  

He doesn’t tell them about the interviews he’d done with the Boyds and with other witnesses; those had led him to a new witness and she had been the one to explain seeing Alton walking away from the ice rink with Alice. 

“I don’t think I can help you,” Stiles concludes.  Even if he is a little intrigued.

Cora’s lips twist.

“Couldn’t you talk to your Dad and your Professor though?” asks Scott, even as he places a hand on Cora’s shoulder in comfort.  “Ask them for the access?”

Cora snaps her fingers.  “Right, you could ask your tutor if you could do another extra credit assignment over the Summer.”

“Look…”

“Come on, Stiles, please!” Scott begs, leaping up from the sofa.

For a second it’s as though they’re back to being ten and Scott is imploring him to play another game or go up the slide again or…

Stiles shuts down the memories smartly and stands up.  Anger flashes through him and he opens his mouth to refuse…

“Please,” Cora jumps in, getting to her feet, “please can you just think about it?”

Stiles slants a furious look her way but instead of the defiance he expects to see, she’s looking back at him with sad emotion-filled imploring eyes worthy of a Disney princess with flecks of gold peeking out behind the muddy brown.

She usually has more control, Stile thinks absently.

“I’ll think about it,” Stiles offers. 

Cora nods.  She reaches into her pocket and pulls out her phone.  “I’ll text you my number?  You can call me when you decide.”

Stiles gets his own phone out and recites his number.  His phone beeps with an incoming text.

Cora gestures at the door.  “We’ll see ourselves out.”

Stiles nods.

Scott clears his throat, his hands pushed deep in the pockets of his jacket.  “Can you give me a minute?”

Stiles thinks he’s talking to him until Cora nods and tells Scott she’ll wait in the car.  He folds his arms over his chest and waits until he hears the front door close before he glares at Scott.

“Look,” Scott grimaces, “I know I was a lousy friend to you after…after the treatment I received for my asthma and I owe you a million apologies from what went down in high school, but…none of that was Cora’s fault, OK?  Just…just don’t refuse to help her because of our history, because you want to get back at me.”

“Wow,” Stiles drawls, “that’s some ego you have there, Scotty-boy.”

Scott flushes red and lowers his eyes.

“You needn’t worry; the Doc is the one who’ll make the decision,” Stiles tells him briskly.  “Our history,” he waves between them, “won’t come into it.”

Scott grimaces and nods unhappily.  “I just…Cora really misses Derek.”

Stiles nods.  “It really sucks to lose someone.”

Scott flinches at that.

“You should head out,” Stiles jerks his head at the door.  “I’m sure Cora’s waiting on you.”

Scott gets the message and moves out.

Stiles follows.  Scott’s out of the door, half-way down the porch steps when Stiles speaks up again.  “And Scott?”

Scott turns to look back at him.

“Don’t come back until you’re ready to actually make an apology for being a lousy friend,” Stiles bites out.

He closes the door.

o-O-o

Doctor Anthony DiNozzo is who Stiles wants to be when he grows up.

Not even the shaky video call can disguise the fact that Tony is a handsome dude for someone well into his forties, still fit and healthy, with a wicked grin and twinkling green eyes.  He has an almost encyclopaedic knowledge of films, history and crime. A former federal agent who retired when he became a single Dad, Tony is the most popular staff member in the Criminology department.  Stiles considers himself fortunate to have landed Tony as his tutor.

Tony listens as Stiles lays out his visit from Cora and the Case of the Missing Hale until Stiles stumbles to a stop.

“It’s an interesting case,” Tony murmurs, rubbing his chin.  “More for what comes before with the fire than the missing kid, because honestly I get him running away.”

“Right,” Stiles agrees.  “Because the fire…”

“Obviously had something to do with him,” Tony draws the same conclusion as Stiles did.  “Or his parents thought it did.”

Stiles taps his fingers on his thigh as Tony thinks about the case.

“Why do you want to investigate?” asks Tony after a minute.

Stiles pulls a face.  “I’m not sure I do?”  He admits.  “Cora and I aren’t exactly friends.”

“But…” leads Tony teasingly.

“But,” Stiles says, “I’m…intrigued?”  He leans forward.  “The Hale fire is a known cold case in Beacon Hills.  Somebody tried to kill the Hales and yet…nothing.  No arrests, no leads, nada, zip, nothing.” He presses his lips together.  “And the Hales accepted that.  No fuss, no drama, just…” he waves his hands, “they get on with their lives except for…”

“Except for Derek,” Tony notes.  He taps his pen against his forehead.  “Do you think Ms Hale has considered that this all says that there is a can of worms waiting to be opened?”

“Is it wrong that it just makes me want to be the can-opener?” Stiles confesses, slumping back in his chair.  “I’m a terrible human being.”

Tony laughs.  “Most investigators have a healthy side of can-opening nosey parker about them, kid.  You’re not alone in that.”

Stiles feels better at his mentor’s acknowledgement.

“OK,” Tony says, “I can’t give you extra credit – that wouldn’t be fair to the others in your class who haven’t had the same opportunity drop in their lap for the Summer, but I will support you running an investigation and reinstating your access to the databases for research.”  He holds up a finger before Stiles can get too excited.  “Three caveats.”

Stiles nods. 

“One,” Tony says, “you speak again to Ms Hale and make it clear that there is a can she is opening.  If her brother did have something to do with the fire, that could come out; he could face legal charges.  I want her agreement that she’s on board.  I’m going to send you a standard PI contract for you both to sign.”

Stiles gives another nod.  He understands why Tony wants clear consent; it’s to protect Stiles from the fallout.

“Two,” Tony says, “I want you to discuss this whole thing with your Dad tonight and get his permission.  We’ll need access to the file on the Hale fire and if he’s not on board that’s going to be difficult.”

Stiles grimaces but he’s already lining up arguments in his head to get his Dad to agree.

“And lastly, your Dad and I are going to act as your boss in this,” Tony says, “if we say stop, you stop.  You’re going to be reporting to us, checking back evidence, following orders when we need you to follow orders.  Understand?”

“I understand, Doc,” Stiles says.

There’s a call in the background – Tony’s daughter asking for her Dad’s attention.

“Call me when you’ve spoken to your Dad,” Tony smiles at him and ends the video call.

Right.

Getting his Dad’s permission and making sure Cora consents to them possibly finding out her brother is an arsonist who tried to murder his entire family, her included.

Easy as pie.

o-O-o

Getting his Dad’s permission has been surprisingly easy which is why both Stilinski men usher Cora into the house the day after her approach to Stiles.  Thankfully, she’s alone.  They sit at the dining room table with mugs of coffee.

Stiles lets his Dad take lead on explaining the contract to Cora.  He lays it all out in the open; the unsolved Hale fire, the likely link between that and Derek being shipped off.  Does Cora understand that if they find something incriminating about her brother, they’d have to press charges?

Cora sets her jaw in a familiar stubborn line and scrawls her signature on the contract. 

Stiles signs his own name and his Dad signs as a witness.

“Let’s take this from the top,” his Dad suggests.

Cora begins with the same info that she had shared with Stiles; the timing after the fire, Derek being sent away, news of his running away, the presents as the only sign he might be alive.

“Tell me about Derek,” his Dad says, invitingly. 

Cora hugs her coffee mug to her.  “I remember bits of him, rather than the whole him,” she sighs.  “He’d pick us up from school and walk us home, made sure we got the right bus and we’d sometimes stop in at Jiggles for candy he’d buy us.  I remember going to see him play at basketball and shouting in the crowd when he won.  He used to read stories to myself and the twins.  He was our babysitter usually.  He was quiet, steady.”

“He sounds like a good older brother,” his Dad remarks. 

Cora nods.  “Derek was the one who paid us attention.  Laura was too busy with her friends and Sam was already in college.”

“Would Laura or Sam talk to us about Derek?” asks Stiles, remembering how useful interviewing the Boyds had been.

“Maybe, Laura was closest to him,” Cora shrugs.  “Nobody but Scott knows I’m looking for him.”  She hesitates.  “Maybe you should talk to Uncle Peter?  He did most of the searching for him when Derek ran away and he doesn’t mind talking about Derek the way Mom does.”

“You didn’t discuss this with your Mom?” asks his Dad, a slight look of worry creasing his face.

Cora shakes her head.  “Mom’s position on finding Derek is clear.”

Stiles exchanges a look with his Dad. 

An angry Talia Hale looks like an upcoming feature.

His Dad sighs and changes the subject.  “Do you remember anything about the fire or the time before?  Was Derek acting differently?”

Cora grimaces.  “His girlfriend died a few months before and he was sad.  Really sad for a long time.”  She looks at the far wall, her sight a long way away into the past.  “Just before the fire, he seemed to cheer up?  Laura teased him about finding a new girlfriend just before.”  She frowns.  “But then the day before the fire, they argued I think about whoever he was seeing.  I overheard them.  Derek said it was none of Laura’s business if he was seeing someone older and she said that Derek’s girlfriend was an adult and she was taking advantage of him.”

Speaking to Laura was definitely something on Stiles’ list for him to make a priority.

They wrap up soon after and Stiles takes the files his Dad has procured and sets off upstairs.  He opens up his laptop and readies the database for his queries. 

And then he gets lost in the puzzle, in the horror of far too similar cases that had much more tragic endings.

It’s morning again when his Dad stops by his room.

The case board is covered in pictures, pins and threads. 

There are still interviews to do, leads to chase down but…there’s an ugly picture emerging and Stiles can’t stop looking at the distraught face of a teenage Derek Hale at the centre of the board caught in the middle of it all.

His Dad takes in his work and frowns.  “We need to call Tony.”

o-O-o

Tony turns up a day later with a balding crumpled FBI agent named Fornell who reminds Stiles of Columbus with his wrinkled coat.  They go back over Stiles’ findings and the evening finds them gathered around the dining table with pizza.

Stiles pushes the side salad he’d ordered closer to his Dad’s plate when he takes another slice loaded with meat.

His Dad rolls his eyes at him before turning his attention back to Tony.  “Thanks for coming.”

Tony waves away the thanks.  “It’s not every day your student discovers a serial killer.”

“Then Stiles is right about the fire?” asks his Dad seriously.

“Theoretically, it all makes sense,” Fornell cuts in.  “The cases line up; the details line up.”  He wipes his fingers on a napkin.  “A young woman always named Kate takes a position of trust as a teacher in a local school and a few months later, a family dies in a fire and she disappears into the wind.  Eight cases in the last ten years.”

Stiles shudders because the woman has killed eight families, over thirty people.  He grimaces as he thinks about the detail Fornell has left out; that it’s typical that the woman has used her position to befriend a young teenager in the household prior to the crime of killing them all.

“We found another two cases before the Hale fire when Fornell and I looked over everything today,” Tony notes.  “Similar M.O. except rather than fire, the families were killed in home invasions.”

“It looks like the Hales were lucky,” Fornell says.  “She hires local accomplices.  Maybe one of them got cold feet.”

“Maybe,” Tony says.

Fornell points a finger at him.  “I know that face,” he states accusingly, “that’s your ‘I’ve worked something out’ face.”

“The Hale fire is an anomaly,” Tony says.  “It’s her one failure.  Someone caught on before she was able to kill the family and sent her running.”

“And something has kept her from returning to finish her kill,” his Dad says slowly, horror rising in his eyes.

“Exactly, Noah,” Tony says.  “I’m not a behavioural specialist but most of the literature on serial killers notes that their kills are almost ritualistic; that killers are compelled to follow through.”

“So something scared her off from the Hales,” his Dad concludes.

Stiles figures he might know what it was. 

Or rather he suspects.

He’s suspected for years.  Ever since Scott was miraculously cured by the treatment the Hales had paid for which also increased his athleticism apparently overnight.  Ever since high school when he caught glimpses of fangs and claws and flashing gold eyes when Jackson poked at Scott because Scott didn’t have Stiles’ big mouth to shield him from being baited and Scott was anything but subtle.

If he’s right, he can’t blame the serial killer for bailing, for realising that she had bitten off more than she could potentially chew, and that there were other predators on the field.

“I assume the FBI will be taking over the case?” his Dad checks.

“This part of it, yes,” Tony cuts in before Fornell can speak.

“The BAU will likely investigate,” Fornell adds, shooting Tony a look of annoyance.  “But they’ll start with the last known case.”

Stiles figures that makes sense since it will have the freshest leads.

“And really the people they’d most want to speak to in the Hale case are either unknown or missing,” Tony says.

“The anonymous caller,” Stiles says out loud.

Tony nods.  “And Derek Hale.”

Stiles winces. 

“That woman preyed on a sixteen-year-old boy,” his Dad almost snarls his words.

Stiles reaches for his drink to wash away the sour taste in his mouth. 

“Which begs the question of why the kid was sent away,” Fornell says.  “You’d think his parents would want to keep him close after that kind of trauma.”

“Unless they thought he was in on it,” Stiles theorises. “The Hales wouldn’t know that she usually kills every member of the family including whoever she befriends.”

“Something to explore when you talk with the Hales about Derek,” Tony says, reminding Stiles that finding Derek is still the objective, despite the serial killer revelation.  “Just be careful because something isn’t adding up here.”

Stiles nods.  He thinks he knows what’s missing that would make it all make sense.  Although, Stiles thinks with dark amusement, he’s not sure anybody will believe him that werewolves are the missing link.  

o-O-o

Laura Hale slides into the diner seat opposite him with the air of a tired mother of a newborn who needs caffeine yesterday.

Stiles silently pushes his own Americano in her direction and waves Cassie, the waitress, over to order more.

Laura says nothing but she gulps down the coffee like the life-giving ambrosia it is before setting the empty mug aside with a moue of disappointment.  She eyes Stiles like the predator she is under her skin.

“You wanted to talk to me,” Laura says.

Stiles waits until Cassie sets down another mug and refills Laura’s before he replies.  “Did Cora explain?”

“That she’s asked you to find Derek the way you found Alice?” Laura nods.  She pushes back a messy strand of dark hair which has escaped her practical ponytail.  “You won’t find him.”

Stiles regards her for a long moment.  “You already tried.”

Laura nods.  “He’s my little brother.” 

“Tell me about it,” Stiles invites.

She takes another swig of coffee.  “Not much to tell.  I was furious at Mom for giving up on him.  I went to New York to track him down.  I failed.”

Stiles hums and pulls the folder he’d left to the side over towards him.  He pulls out a photo of an exclusive boys’ boarding school in New York.  “This is where you were told he went.”

Laura cocks her head.  “It is where he went.”

“No,” Stiles shakes his head.  “Derek was never enrolled in this school.  As far as we can tell, he was never enrolled in any school in New York, not even under an assumed name.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Laura says, staring at the photo.

“Tell me about Paige Krasikeva,” Stiles replies, laying a photo of a healthy young girl on top of the school picture.

Laura’s gaze snaps to Stiles.  She shifts in her seat.  “Not much to tell,” she says evenly.  “She was Derek’s first girlfriend.  She died in an accident out on the Preserve.”

“She died from severe blood poisoning,” Stiles counters.  He taps the photo.  “She was bitten by some kind of animal.  The Sheriff at the time thought she had wandered into the woods, been bitten, gotten disorientated with the almost immediate onset of the poisoning and fallen down the ravine, breaking her neck.”  He looks at her sharply.  “There are a lot of things which don’t add up about her death.  According to her mother, she was supposed to be at the school.”  He puts a sheet of paper down; it’s a photocopy of Derek Hale’s statement.  “Derek claimed he was with his Uncle Peter the whole night, which was backed-up by your Uncle when he was questioned.  Derek said that the last time he’d seen Paige alive and well had been at school that day.”

“He wasn’t lying,” Laura says furiously, her dark eyes flashing with anger but without the tell-tale gold glint of Other.

“No, but I doubt he was telling the whole truth,” Stiles says.  “My tutor asked a medical examiner to take a second look at the autopsy findings.  Doctor Mallard says this type of blood poisoning is rare from an animal bite, but not unheard of – there’s a case every few years.  The poison is the most painful way to die, likely killing vital organs since it turns blood into a black sludge.  The person infected would be delirious, agonised.  He thinks that the neck break was a deliberate act of mercy not an accident.”

Ducky had been a font of a lot of knowledge about werewolves and the bite and hunters.  Tony had looked a lot gobsmacked; Stiles not so much.

Laura looks away.

“I think your brother was with Paige that night in the Preserve,” Stiles says, putting his cards on the table.  “I think he or your Uncle Peter killed her to stop her pain.”

Laura doesn’t look at him, continues staring out of the window.

“And I think Uncle Peter covered the whole incident up,” Stiles continues.  “I believe Peter told your parents the truth, or maybe some of the truth, and I think what happened with Paige is ultimately why Derek was sent away.  I mean, there is other stuff about the fire, most of which was not his fault, although I’m not sure how much your parents realised that, but this, Paige, was first.  It was the reason why the hunters targeted your family.”

Laura breathes out sharply.  “I think we’re done.  Clearly Cora was wrong to trust you with this.  You’re just making shit up to get Derek into trouble.” 

“I can’t prove any of it,” Stiles admits, “but I’m betting I’m right when you ask your Mom to tell you the truth.  It’s the reason why he was sent away.” 

Laura gives him another disgusted look and shifts to slide out of the booth.

Stiles puts another photo down.  It’s a picture of a high school graduation in Los Angeles.

She sits back down.  Her fingers hover over the photo.  She looks back up at him.  “You found him.”

“I found where he was,” Stiles corrects her.

“How?” asks Laura.

Stiles shrugs.  “Limited number of Dereks in the US.  Graduations are recorded with State Education departments.  It was just a process of elimination for the right year.” He pauses.  “Might have more difficult if Derek’s first name had been changed as well as his last.”

“Why was his name changed?” The words slip out of Laura’s mouth and she snaps her mouth closed again.

“You tell me,” Stiles says leaning forward.  He points at Derek.  “He attended that school from the moment your parents sent him away until he graduated.  No running away.  No acting out.  He was in the care of two human foster parents who still remember him fondly even if he’s never contacted them since leaving their home.”

Laura looks bewildered.  He doesn’t blame her.

He reaches back into the folder and places another photo down.  “This is the social worker who they say left him with them.”

Laura’s eyes widen before her face flushes red with anger even as her control slips and her eyes go gold.  Her gaze lands on Stiles and she snarls a single name.  “Peter.”

o-O-o

“I hear you’re looking for me.”

Stiles doesn’t startle at the unexpected silky voice coming from the corner of the living room.  Instead, he continues into the room and sets his phone on the dining table, the call to Tony still active, but the volume muted with a flick of his finger.

“Peter Hale, I presume,” Stiles says, turning to face his visitor.

“I’d apologise for letting myself in but I doubt you wanted me to wait outside the Sheriff’s house in my car and attract the attention of the neighbourhood,” Peter stands, adjusting the cuffs of his blazer.

He’s dressed semi-casually in jeans, but he’s teamed them with a crisp white button-down shirt and dark blue blazer.

“Well, I could make a fuss about your breaking and entering, but I’d rather know the whereabouts of Derek Hale,” Stiles says.

Peter looks amused.  “And why would I know where he is?”

“Because you’d want to keep track of your pawn?” Stiles counters sassily, gesturing at the chess board in the corner.

“Oh, I think Derek is much more than a pawn,” Peter smiles slyly.

“Is he?” asks Stiles.

“Don’t assume you know everything, Mister Stilinski,” Peter remarks.  “’There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.’”

“Like werewolves?”

Peter stills.  His eyes narrow on Stiles.  “Well, well.  Perhaps you know some things.  You have been busy.”  He chuckles.  “And to think that the very real likelihood of you finding out was why Talia insisted McCall couldn’t be friends with you.”

Stiles has already worked that one out.

Peter moves to the mantel and starts to peruse the pictures.  “You do realise most people will think you’re crazy?”

Stiles rolls his eyes.  “You know the only thing I haven’t worked out yet is why.”

“Why?” asks Peter.

“Why do this to Derek?” expands Stiles.  “By all accounts he was your favourite.  Why take him away from his family and the people who love him?  Why convince his parents to send him away when he’d been traumatised by Kate Argent?  When he was recovering from losing his girlfriend to a horrific act of mercy?  Why turn him into a lone wolf?”

Peter stares at him for a long moment.  “You love your father, do you not, Stiles?”

“I don’t think you need me to answer that,” Stiles says.

“No, I don’t think I do,” Peter reaches up and snags a photo of Stiles with his Dad.  Stiles is four in the photo, balanced precariously on a bicycle with his Dad holding the handlebars.  They’re both smiling, laughing.  “Time with a child is precious.  It’s fleeting.  One moment you’re teaching them to ride a bike, and the next…they’re solving murders.”  He puts the photo back.  “I never got the chance to teach my daughter to ride a bike.  My sister saw to that.”

Stiles leans back on his heels and stuffs his hands into his pockets.  “You have a daughter?”

“Had,” Peter says.  “I was with her mother Corinne briefly.  She fell pregnant, but instead of telling me, she told my Alpha.  Talia arranged to give my child away before I ever knew.”

“But you found out,” Stiles says.

“Corinne came to me when Malia was nine,” Peter snorts.  His hands clench at his sides.  “Do you know why?”

Stiles shakes his head despite knowing that he isn’t meant to answer.

“Corinne had lost her power, thought her young daughter had stolen it,” Peter’s tone is taunting.  “Corinne was an accomplished assassin.  She went after Malia.  One car crash later and my daughter is gone, missing in the Preserve, turned into a coyote.”

Stiles’ eyes widen.  Were-coyotes were a thing?  He shakes the thought away and re-focuses.  There was no missing the anger in Peter’s voice or the way he’d referred to Corrine in the past tense.

“Corinne came to me because she thought I would track my own daughter down and kill her,” Peter huffs.

“Instead, you killed Corinne,” Stiles says.

Peter’s eyes flash blue.  “Well, not immediately, but let’s just say my time ‘looking for Derek’” he makes air quotes, “was very productive.”

Stiles tilts his head and considers the timeline.  “So, taking Derek away from Talia is…revenge?”  He gestures wildly.  “She takes your child away from you, you take her child away her?  An eye for an eye?”

“More like a warning to focus on her own cubs,” Peter says sharply. “After all, if I had wanted her to truly suffer, I would have taken her favourite not mine.”

“And what about Derek?” asks Stiles.

“What about him?”

Stiles arches his eyebrows.  “Getting revenge on Talia, I get, but it can’t have escaped your notice that what you did hurt Derek in the process.  You removed him from his family.”

“As much as I love Derek, he was a liability back then,” Peter makes a face.  “I mean, even if the business with the Krasikeva girl wasn’t bad enough, he got involved with Kate Argent of all people, and only just managed to save getting our entire family burned to the ground because he realised who she was when he found her ordering her troops to surround the house.”

“He was the anonymous caller?” checks Stiles his mind whirring with the new information.

Peter nods.  “He snuck out of a school event to find her when he realised the teacher he’d been screwing was missing from it.”  He sighs.  “It was a hard but necessary lesson she taught him that day.” 

“You scared her off afterwards?” asks Stiles.

Peter smiles.  “Talia called the Argent matriarch.  There was a discussion and it was agreed that Kate would leave us alone.”

Stiles frowns. 

“It was Talia who talked about sending Derek away because he was clearly struggling with his guilt, losing control of his shift in public,” Peter shrugs and adjusts his cuffs, “I just…took advantage of the opportunity.  I told Talia I’d handle everything.”

And Stiles can see how it all unfolded.

“Where’s Derek now?” asks Stiles. 

“I really don’t know,” Peter shifts nervously suddenly, glancing over Stiles’ shoulder and paling. 

Stiles looks back and finds Talia Hale, eyes glowing red standing on the other side of the dining room table.  His father stands beside her, gun levelled at Peter.

Tony had clearly sent the cavalry.

“You bastard,” snarls Talia.  “Where is my son?!”

Peter backs up a step, hands up and outstretched.  “Sister, dear, this is all a misunderstanding.  I really…” 

Talia leaps, leaps, over the table and before either Stiles or his father can react, she has Peter on his knees and her claws in the back of his neck.

Stiles shuffles to stand next to his father.  “Should we do something?  She literally has her claws in his spine.”

It’s disconcerting to see his father as discombobulated as Stiles feels.

His Dad shakes his head.  His gun doesn’t waver.

Stiles picks up his phone.  “Tony…”

“Ducky says that claws in the spine means she’s able to access his memories,” Tony sounds partly intrigued and partly horrified. 

Stiles relates.

Talia lurches back and Peter falls forward to slump on the floor.

“Uh, is he…?” Stiles stutters out.

“Alive,” Talia growls.  “For now.”

His Dad lowers his gun. 

“And Derek?” asks Stiles.

“Derek disappeared on Peter after graduating school,” Talia’s face crumples for a long moment.  “Peter thinks hunters found him and spooked him into running.”

Stiles frowns.  “He’s still alive if he’s sending the presents.”

Talia blinks back tears.  She swipes at her face and stares at her prone brother.  Her disgusted grimace is everything Stiles feels about Peter Hale.  “This is a pack matter.”

His Dad nods.  “He’s all yours.”

Stiles isn’t surprised when Sam Hale shows up immediately at the door.  He signs off the call with Tony while they carry Peter out.  Talia closes the door behind them.

The house is suddenly silent.

His Dad places a hand on his shoulder.  “Maybe you should let this go, son.”

Stiles shakes his head.  “Derek deserves to be found.”

o-O-o

Stiles stops his jeep in front of the small cabin and takes it in.  It’s a picture come to life; a basic but solid wood structure next to the clear blue-green Beacon lake in the centre of the Preserve.  Woodland surrounds them and the dirt trail in and out is hard to find.  It’s in Hale territory but only just.

It’s almost the end of the Summer. 

He’s due to return to Berkeley in ten days. 

It’s been an eventful vacation.

The week before had seen the FBI arrest Kate Argent for her spree of serial killings across America.  She’s been disavowed from the hunter community since she’s endangered the secret of the supernatural.

Stiles fully believes she won’t live to see trial.  The supernatural world is not forgiving.  Nobody had been surprised when Talia had turned up at the police station a week after the showdown with Peter in the Stilinski house to declare her brother missing.  Stiles figures they’ll never find his body.

He focuses back on the cabin.

Talia had met with Stiles the day after lodging the missing person report.  She’d apologised for ordering Scott to stay away from Stiles back when she’d given him the bite. 

Stiles understands that she was just protecting her pack.  The Argents are a clear reason why werewolves need to be careful who they trust with the secret.

But he’s not ready to forgive Scott, despite how a hopeful if sheepish looking Scott accompanies Cora to every meeting they have; Stiles is still waiting on actual apology from his former friend.

He had forgiven Talia when she had given Stiles everything she’d learned from Peter.

Derek had been hidden in Los Angeles by his Uncle with Peter making arrangements with a tutor at the school in New York to lie to Talia about the running away.  Peter had only realised Derek had actually gone AWOL after his graduation when the bank had informed him of a substantial withdrawal on the account Peter had set-up for Derek.  Peter had been convinced that Kate had found him and killed him since he’d scented her when he’d gone looking for Derek for real. 

And maybe Kate had found Derek.  Either way Derek had ran.  He hadn’t touched the account Peter had set up for him after the withdrawal; hadn’t used the identity Peter had created to hide him.

But he’d continued to send his family presents, the only way he’d thought he was safe to show them he loved them.

Stiles had originally laboriously tracked down the florist and run into a brick wall, but with the evidence that Argent might have targeted him, Tony had secured agreement for a financial trace which had led to an interesting person.

All those years before Derek had run home to Beacon Hills, but not wanting to lead hunters to his family’s doorstep again, Derek instead had turned to the pack’s Emissary.

Stiles doesn’t know why Alan Deaton hadn’t told Talia the truth about Derek years before beyond the cryptic ‘protection of the balance’ answer he’d given when asked (he’d left Talia to follow up on that).  At least Deaton had given up what he’d known about Derek or rather Derek H. Page.

Derek H. Page is a small but successful book-keeper, working online through a company Deaton ostensibly owns and which has paid for all the gifts to the Hales through the years Derek has been missing.  The company also rents a small plot of land in the Preserve which Talia had allowed Deaton to manage.  Derek had built the cabin himself.  According to Deaton, the tie to the pack’s land and being in touch with the pack’s Emissary had been enough to keep Derek from losing his werewolf mind and turning feral.

Still, Stiles isn’t going to believe Deaton until he sets eyes on Derek himself.  Stiles climbs out of the jeep.

The cabin door opens.  Derek steps out onto the porch; tall with the brooding good looks all the Hales sport.  He’s barefoot in jeans and a thin grey t-shirt which shows off his physique.  His dark eyes look at Stiles warily.

“What are you doing here?  This is private property,” Derek growls.

Stiles smiles. 

Found him.

fin.

Next: The Case of the Alpha Werewolf