Stiles refused to deal with Derek's car anymore. He couldn't handle the confinement such a small space put on him. When Scott had called to say he was back with Lydia and Malia, Stiles wanted to sunlight-leap home to get his jeep. Derek hadn't been happy about that, not wanting him to go anywhere on his own, so they'd compromised.
Derek drove him to his house and they'd picked up his jeep, leaving Derek's car sitting in the driveway. As he drove to Scott's, Stiles' relief at being behind the wheel of his jeep lessoned and was replaced by anxiety as he considered Lydia and Malia.
The last time he'd seen them, they'd been in the preserve trying to find him and he'd gotten them lost using his fae tricks. No one got hurt, but Lydia had been stuck down in a small valley and Malia had run into a black bear. Stiles shuddered to think what would have happened if it had been Lydia with the bear.
Derek was quiet the whole ride, which left Stiles to stew in his own thoughts while he drove. By the time he parked his jeep in Scott's driveway, he was tapping the steering wheel constantly with both hands, anxiety spilling over. Derek said nothing, only getting out of the jeep, which had Stiles frowning, but he refrained from saying anything. He'd possibly gotten too used to having Derek make him feel better whenever he needed it.
He climbed out of his jeep and was caught by two strong arms and held close. He breathed in Malia's shampoo and gave her a hug in return, feeling some of his worry dissipate. Then Malia hit him on the shoulder, hard.
"Ow!" he complained.
"That's from me for Lydia," Malia told him. "You could have called her when you got back, you know."
Stiles was suitably chastised. "Fair enough. But what about calling you?"
Malia scoffed. "You and I are on a similar wave-length, I would have forgotten to call, too."
Stiles laughed. "I'm happy to see you," he told her.
"Me too, but Stiles? If you hurt Lydia like that again, I'll hurt you back, even though I love you."
Stiles believed Malia was telling the absolute truth. "I promise I won't," he swore, when she continued to scowl at him.
The promise made her relax and she smiled, grabbing his arm. "Come on," she said, and pulled him up the driveway into Scott's house.
Scott and Derek were talking earnestly with Lydia. The concerned look on Scott's face smoothed over when he noticed Stiles, and they all stopped talking. Stiles wanted to know what that was about but was sidetracked by Lydia turning around to face him.
"Lyds," Stiles said, softly. "I'm sorry. I know that doesn't go even halfway towards making up for everything, but I really am."
Lydia walked up to him, and Stiles couldn't help but feel a little threatened as she looked him over. He bit his bottom lip. "Lydia?" he asked, worriedly.
"Stiles." She rested her head against his chest.
He put his arms around her. "Hey, are you okay?"
Lydia sniffed and looked up at him, giving him an unimpressed look. "Apart from not seeing you for months and your dad and Jordan being kidnapped?" she scoffed. "Sure. I'm great."
Stiles had forgotten about Lydia dating Parrish. He shook his head at himself for being so uncaring and squeezed her tighter. "Well, now you're here, we'll go get them back."
***
Stiles wasn't too happy.
Everyone but Malia had vetoed his idea of being bait to draw out Brine. He'd thought Lydia would back him up, but apparently he'd disappeared once too often for her to be okay with it. Instead, against Stiles' complaints, they were getting help from Beacon Hill's resident druid asshole.
Stiles was sitting in his jeep outside the animal clinic, having vehemently declined going in, listening to his police radio and muttering dark thoughts to himself. Derek had taken his jeep keys. No one trusted him not to go off on his own after Brine. He'd wisely not reminded them he could just sunlight-leap anywhere. He didn't want them to tie him up like Derek had alluded to before.
Stiles cursed some more as he twiddled with the scanner. The police had nothing new, so he slumped back in his seat and stared out the window at the clinic. He objectively understood everyone was looking out for him as they didn't want him risking his life. But when he thought about his dad being with Brine, objectivity went out the window. Being bait would be the easiest and quickest way to get his dad back. And Parrish, too, of course.
He deserved some credit here. He'd come up with a viable plan and had yet to break down today. He'd taken Derek's advice and tamped down all of his darker scarier thoughts, deep enough that all that was left was a cold hard shard sitting in his heart. It made his chest hurt but he refrained from rubbing it.
Suddenly, the police scanner piped up, and Stiles stopped grumbling to listen. When he hopped out of his jeep half a minute later, he was feeling more optimistic. Enough to go inside and face down Deaton again.
***
"What do you mean this changes nothing?!" Stiles rounded on Deaton, fuming.
"If you'll let me explain?" Deaton asked.
With the new information Stiles had learnt, namely a sighting of Brine, he'd presumed they'd be going to check it out. But no.
"Some druids have the ability to create illusions. Sarah was one of them. It's possible that Gavin is doing the same thing," Deaton explained.
"We'll let the police handle it, Stiles," Scott said, reasonably.
Stiles turned his glare on him. "While we do what? Sit on our asses and do nothing?!"
Scott opened his mouth to retort, but Derek got there first. He grabbed Stiles' hand and pulled him out of the examination room. Stiles ripped his hand out of Derek's grasp as soon as they were in the corridor.
"What, Derek?!" Stiles was so angry. Angry at Deaton, angry at Scott, angry at everyone.
Derek ignored the fury directed at him, moving into Stiles' personal space and wrapping him up in a tight hug. Stiles stopped. This was the first overtly emotional display from Derek since this morning, and he wanted it so badly. He leant into it, hands coming up to grasp at Derek's shirt.
"Stiles, we're doing everything we can," Derek started.
"It's not enough," Stiles complained, pressing his face into Derek's neck, needing to be closer.
"I know. But we'll work something out. For now, I want you to do something for yourself."
Stiles frowned and looked at him closely. "What?"
Derek ran a hand down his shoulder and then held him around the waist, their hips slotting together nicely like they were meant to fit together. "I want you to take my feelings."
"Why?" Stiles didn't think right now was the most opportune moment.
"Because even though you try to fool me, I know you too well. You're entirely too stressed out, and I can help."
Stiles shifted uncomfortably. "Of course I have stress, who wouldn't."
Derek shook his head. "I can help with your pain if you let me." He tapped Stiles' chest gently. "I saw you rubbing at it, just like at the hospital."
"When?" He'd been so careful.
"In the jeep, during the drive over. Come on, Stiles, do this. It will help."
Stiles was very close to obstinately denying he needed help, but the lie wouldn't roll off his tongue. "Fine."
Derek smiled gently. "Anytime you want."
Stiles shook his head slightly. Stubborn wolf. He squared his shoulders and stared Derek down, noticing how very green his eyes were under the clinic's corridor light. If Stiles looked closer, he could see tiny reflections of himself staring back, looking frazzled. His nose bumped Derek's, and he closed his eyes automatically as Derek kissed him.
It was a languid kiss, Derek moving his lips over him gently, his tongue soothing where it touched. Stiles sighed into it and let his magic reach out. He sunk into a wave of love, letting it wash over him, then swayed in Derek's arms as he went deeper, feeling the warmth that came with it. There was determination-protection-caring and threading through all of it was Derek's calm strength.
The pain in his chest opened up and Stiles choked a little, breathing harsher, tears coming to his eyes, but Derek kept the kiss gentle, coaxing him back into it. The hard shard didn't go away, but the pain leveled out. Stiles opened his eyes and saw black lines traveling up Derek's cheekbones as he took Stiles' pain. Derek opened his eyes, too, and they stared at each other through their kiss, inches apart.
The kiss ended when Stiles stepped back, knowing if he didn't stop he'd want everything.
"How do you feel?" Derek asked.
Stiles contemplated the answer. "Better," he admitted. The pain in his chest had lessoned and he was more clear-headed. Even being in the clinic didn't intrude on the bubble of calm he had going on. "Wow, Derek. Seriously, that's some incredible power you've got there."
Derek's mouth twitched. "I don't think it's so much me, as us."
Stiles smiled. "Us. We're good together."
Derek's smile grew into his soft sweet one that Stiles wanted to keep whenever he saw it. "We are. Very good together."
"Just so you know, I totally mean to break up your love-fest," Malia interrupted them, standing at the end of the corridor. "Get back in here, we can't agree on anything without you." She motioned with her head back into the examination room, then turned and disappeared.
Stiles snorted. "Her bluntness is always refreshing." He held Derek's hand as they walked back into the room. He caught the end of Scott's suggested plan of action and couldn't help his snort of derision. "That's your plan? Your plan sucks."
Scott's face fell. "I know," he agreed.
Scott had been talking about getting his dad involved. The FBI had already been notified of the Sheriff's kidnapping, but Scott was suggesting a more direct line of involvement where he'd talk to his dad about Brine coming after Stiles again. Having the FBI looking for Brine was a good thing, but Stiles didn't want to deal with Scott's dad more than necessary. He also knew how much it would cost Scott to call him.
"Look, Scotty, I appreciate you suggesting it, but there's just no way I want your dad involved in this any more than he already is. And be honest, you don't really want him to be either. So let's just go with me being bait and work around that, okay?" He let go of Derek's hand to go stand near Scott.
Scott was unconvinced. "I don't know."
Stiles kept going, knowing just how to push. He hated himself for it, but dug deeper at Scott's mistrust of his dad. He clapped his hand on Scott's shoulder. "Your dad would probably use me as bait straight off though. So you're right. Let's do it. Call him, Scott."
Scott's face went through a slew of emotions as Stiles watched, feeling every bit the manipulative bastard he could be. Eventually, Scott landed on resigned. "Okay, we're not calling my dad."
Stiles hid his grim satisfaction by dropping his hand and turning away. Both Derek and Deaton made it clear with their knowing stares that they were aware of his maneuvering of the situation. He ignored them.
"Using Stiles as bait is probably the best way to go," Deaton agreed, slowly.
Derek folded his arms and scowled at him. Stiles scowled at him as well, but for a different reason. He didn't want Deaton's help. He was only here because everyone else had outvoted him. The calmness he'd experienced with Derek was rapidly dissipating.
"About time!" Malia said, in response to Deaton. "Stiles is the answer here."
Stiles pointed meaningfully at Malia and looked at everyone else. Lydia rolled her eyes at him.
"Now we have that worked out, how do we use him to find the sheriff? And Parrish," Malia added, as she glanced at Lydia.
Stiles caught her concern. Lydia must have told Malia about being with Parrish. He was happy that Lydia had started opening up to someone, but he was also sad. He'd not been there to support her and Lydia had gone looking for another friend to confide in.
Stiles came back to himself as Deaton started talking again. He made a conscious effort to pay attention, clenching his fingernails into his palms to help. Now was not the time to find other things to be preoccupied with. His dad came first.
"If Brine is creating an illusion of himself, he must be using certain things to do so. I would be able to help by doing a search spell, but unfortunately the object I need was stollen from this clinic two days ago." Deaton pointedly looked over in Stiles' direction.
Stiles rolled his eyes and spoke over Scott's outburst over learning the animal clinic had been robbed. "What 'certain things' is Brine using?" He had no guilt at taking back the Nemeton wood and didn't feel the need to pretend otherwise if Deaton had suspicions about him.
Deaton kept staring at him. Stiles was not going to be the one who looked away first.
Scott was still trying to get Deaton to explain about the robbery, when Lydia, who'd been watching Stiles intently, placed her hand on Scott's arm and shushed him.
Scott took a moment to read the room and frowned at the showdown that was suddenly occurring in front of him. "What's going on?"
Stiles' brain was whirling along as he stared at Deaton. He'd figured out some things. The sphere was made to find and summon other pieces of the Nemeton. Something which hadn't sat right with him since he'd worked it out. Why would Deaton make it so, unless he wanted all of the wood for himself at some point? And if Deaton needed the sphere to find Brine, didn't that mean Brine was using Nemeton wood?
The idea of Brine having access to any part of the Nemeton filled Stiles with a dark energy. He made sure not to show any outward sign of being highly disturbed by what he was presuming. Before he acted he needed to know if he was correct. He answered Scott's question. "Deaton needs to come clean on a few things."
"Deaton?" Scott turned to him.
Deaton sighed, breaking the staring contest to glance at Scott. "It seems I have to speak of something I have no wish to, for it is my biggest shame." When no one stopped him, everyone waiting for him to continue, he gave Stiles another look, which Stiles returned with a raised eyebrow, daring him to keep lying. "Years ago," Deaton started, "I took part in something. If I knew then what I do now, I would not have done it." He looked regretfully at Stiles, as if asking for forgiveness.
Stiles refrained from sneering at him only though sheer will. "I don't believe you. Keep going."
"Stiles?" Scott asked.
"Shut up, Scott," Malia said. Like Lydia, she'd been watching everything quietly.
Deaton continued. "When the Nemeton was cut down, everyone involved in the undertaking was given some of its wood. We created objects of power. Sara, Brine's wife, had some. This is what Brine will be using to create his illusions as he has no magic in himself."
"You mean you chopped down the Nemeton? You?" Malia asked. She looked over at Stiles. "Oh."
"Yes, oh," agreed Lydia. She gave Stiles a disappointed look for not telling her.
Stiles gave her a one-shoulder shrug. It wasn't that important right now.
"I'm still not getting it," Scott said. "Yes, Deaton chopped down the tree, but what's that got to do with the robbery?"
"Nothing was stolen except pieces of the Nemeton," Deaton explained.
"So, Brine robbed you?" Scott frowned.
"I don't think it was Brine, Scott," Lydia said. She turned to Stiles. "Was it?"
Stiles shrugged again. "They aren't his to keep," he explained. Let them make of that what they will. He looked over at Derek, who nodded his head supportingly at him.
Scott gapped at Stiles. "You robbed Deaton?"
"Robbed. Took back what didn't belong to him. Semantics, really," Stiles answered.
"Stiles!" Scott wasn't impressed.
Neither was Stiles. "That's not the issue here." He turned his attention back to Deaton. "Care to tell me why you need a dead piece of wood?"
"I'm assuming after you took it, you woke it up," Deaton told him. "I wasn't sure, but when my magic alarms were tripped in such a fashion and only the Nemeton wood was missing, I guessed it was you who took the pieces."
"You didn't tell the police," Derek said, bringing up a valid question. "Why?"
"I did say I wasn't happy with my previous actions regarding the Nemeton," Deaton told him. "When Stiles took the pieces I thought maybe I could start to make amends."
Stiles wasn't buying Deaton's sob story for a second. "You still haven't explained what you need the wood for."
"And you haven't yet said if you managed to wake it up. There's only one being who could do that, Stiles."
Stiles stilled. If Deaton was alluding to his connection to the Nemeton, it may force his hand. In his heart of hearts, he didn't want to be the kind of person who hurt people, who took their anonymity away from them. But his secret must remain just that.
Before he could warn Deaton, the druid kept talking. "There was always one fae, out of all the others, who was connected to the Nemeton more than anyone else. They were its protector, its moral guide, its spiritual center in a way —"
"Stop," Stiles interrupted.
"I believe when Stiles was chosen to become fae, he also became the Nemeton's latest protector. If you've managed to connect with it like that, Stiles, there's no telling what you're capable of."
"You idiot." Stiles glared, and dropped his glamour. He advanced on Deaton, grabbing him before anyone could stop him. He brushed aside the magic in the room which tried to come to Deaton's defense. "Do you think that's information you have the right to speak of?" he whispered coldly in Deaton's face.
Scott moved forward, clearly intending to intervene. Stiles warned him back with a hiss through his pointy teeth, at the same time Deaton held up a hand to stop Scott advancing.
Scott stood back, but he was in alpha form and clearly upset. "Stiles, let him go," he growled.
"Not yet," Stiles told him, and looked back at Deaton. "Now I have to do something I'd rather I didn't."
"Stiles, no!" Scott protested.
"Relax, Scotty," Stiles scoffed. "You really think Derek would be standing there if he thought I was going to kill Deaton?"
Derek raised his eyebrows at Scott. It was true. He was leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed. A picture of indifference.
Scott still wasn't sure. "Derek would do anything for you, Stiles. That doesn't mean anything."
"I wouldn't let him hurt Deaton, you idiot," Derek shook his head at Scott. "Use your brain."
Scott rounded on him. "You know, just because you want to sleep with him doesn't mean I'm not the alpha here!"
Derek narrowed his eyes. "I never said it did," he said. "Calm down, Scott. I'm not challenging you. Just like Stiles isn't threatening Deaton's life." He paused. "Yet."
Stiles snorted. "Way to help, big guy." He shook his head.
Scott spent a few more seconds posturing, then his alpha form disappeared. "What are you going to do that you don't want to?" he asked Stiles.
"I'm going to force Deaton to make a binding pact with me," Stiles sighed out.
Deaton's eyes widened. "Stiles," he started to protest.
"You did this to yourself," Stiles hissed to shut him up. "Now, come on. Let's get this over with." He forced Deaton to stand before him, holding him with one hand on his shoulder. Before he began, he closed his eyes and grimaced. Then, opening them, he locked gazes with Deaton. "Repeat what I say: 'I swear I will never, not even under duress, communicate in any way my knowledge of Stiles in regards to being fae and all that entails, to anyone not in this room right now."
Deaton repeated the words, looking right at Stiles while he did so.
Stiles added, "This pact will hold until and even after death."
Deaton was shaking a little, Stiles could feel it through the hold on his shoulder. He hated that he'd have this power over him, but he forced Deaton to continue by staring him down.
Deaton repeated the last words.
The binding started to form. Stiles held out his pinkie and Deaton hooked his own around it. The binding magic caused both of them to suck in a breath as it rushed around them. Stiles could feel a tiny awareness of Deaton settle inside himself, right next to the binding awareness of Derek. These magical tags would alert him if his pacts were broken and was the second main reason he didn't want to create a binding pact with someone, especially someone he despised. He didn't want any connection to Deaton, no matter that he could essentially ignore it unless it was activated.
Stiles let Deaton go as soon as he could and stood near Derek, who put a hand on his back in comfort. Stiles could tell Derek was a lot more concerned for him than he was letting on, the pressure of his hand was solid, strong and supportive. Stiles leant back into it.
Deaton sat down in his chair. He was clearly unhappy but looked at Stiles with a new understanding Stiles didn't like one bit.
"Stiles, what was that?" Malia asked.
Stiles shook out his hands, feeling pins and needles in them. He slid his glamour back on and everything dulled down to human perspective. "Fae can bind people to promises." He really didn't want to have to explain it.
"And that means?" Lydia pushed.
"Deaton won't tell anyone anything about me, other than you guys," he answered, vaguely.
"Including that bit about you being the Nemeton's protector?" Lydia asked.
Stiles tried not to flinch. "Please don't," he said. "Just, don't ever mention that, okay? It's important, and I won't go into details. No one can know of it."
"Because they'll kill you," Malia guessed.
"Something like that," he agreed.
"Don't you want a binding promise from us, too?" Scott asked, still looking disturbed by Stiles' actions.
"God, no!" Stiles bit out, shaking his head. "I trust you to keep quiet."
"But you didn't trust Deaton."
"Scott, really?" Lydia gave him a scornful look. "What will it take for you to understand that?"
"I guess I do now," Scott said, sadly.
"What was with the pinkie swearing?" Malia asked. "Part of the whole 'putting him under your power' thing?"
Stiles did flinch then. "That's just a thing I do, but I didn't, I'm not ..." He rubbed his hands over his thighs. He felt dirty.
Derek scowled at Malia. "Stiles doesn't have Deaton under his power. It doesn't work like that."
"How does it work?" Scott asked.
It was Deaton who answered. "Stiles gets to reprimand me if I break my promise."
"How?" Malia queried, honestly confused. "You what? Get to smack him around if he tells someone?"
Stiles rubbed his hands again, becoming increasingly uncomfortable as the conversation progressed.
"If he chose to, he would be able to do it and I couldn't stop him," Deaton agreed.
"Stiles!" Scott scolded him.
Honestly, Stiles was getting a little annoyed at Scott's constant disapproval for things he hadn't done. "I'm not going to do that, Scott!"
"What would you do?"
Stiles didn't have an answer. Not one he wanted to voice.
Deaton looked at him, but Stiles wouldn't catch his eye, feeling wrong about what he'd done even if Deaton wasn't his friend. Deaton spoke slowly. "From all of the history I've learnt and from what I witnessed when I was younger, fae use the binding to force compliance, exacting revenge and taking great joy in the process if the pact is broken. In fact, fae like to twist their bindings so it's almost impossible to not break them. Tricking people into a pact is a prideful thing for a fae."
Stiles folded his arms across his body. He really hated that Deaton knew so much about him. He should have got him to state he couldn't talk to anyone about fae business. He'd left the pact too open by including his friends.
Deaton continued. "But Stiles didn't do that. Our pact is straightforward and it doesn't look like he enjoyed it at all. He's not your typical fae. Also, I'm not worried about what he'll do to me, Scott, because I'm not going to tell anyone."
"I still don't understand," Scott complained.
"Stiles can essentially do something to me that no one else is capable of. He can strip me of my magic if I break pact with him. But as I said, I don't believe he'd do it."
"Don't be so sure of that," Stiles cautioned him. He needed Deaton to know he was serious about this, even if he hated how he got the right to do it.
Deaton observed him for a minute, and then nodded in acknowledgement.
Stiles had the urge to apologize to him and bit his tongue.
Deaton turned to Scott again. "This is more about trust, than anything else, Scott. Myself, gaining Stiles'. And to that end I have a gift of sorts." Deaton stood up and retrieved a large cardboard box from the next room. He placed it on the examination table and motioned to Stiles. "I believe these are yours."
Stiles placed a hand over the lid of the box. He could feel Nemeton wood calling to him from inside. There were numerous pieces he would have sworn were not at the clinic when he broke in. He closed his eyes. "Thank you," he said to Deaton, grudgingly.
"They were never mine, truthfully. We agree on that," Deaton told him.
Scott looked like he wanted to ask a billion questions, but Lydia glared so hard at him he shut his mouth and stood silent, pouting.
"What will you do with the sphere?" Stiles asked, forcing himself to concede it looked like Deaton had planned to give him the wood before he'd shown up at the clinic.
"Not me, Stiles. I will show you how to use it to find the piece that Brine is using. We can use a map and pin-point his location."
Stiles nodded slowly. "Do you need both of them?"
Deaton smiled a little. "You have the sister."
"It was in the vault," Derek told him.
Deaton made a noise of understanding. "It makes sense Talia would store it there." He looked back at Stiles. "It would make for a stronger spell."
Stiles nodded again. "I'll go get them."
When he opened the front door to the clinic, he stood in the carpark, letting the sun warm and energize him. He immediately felt better not being surrounded by the druid magic that was soaked into the clinic walls. He wasn't at any risk from it, he could collapse all of Deaton's carefully formed wards with little more than a slight electric display and a pull on the Nemeton's magic. No, Deaton posed no magical threat. But to stand in the room with him was draining.
"Shall we go?" Derek motioned to the jeep, having followed Stiles out.
Stiles couldn't help his slightly manic smile as he looked at Derek. He was fae. He should use that to his advantage. "Did you lock your front door?" he asked.
"Yeah?"
"Could I have the key, please?"
Derek looked confused, but handed his keys over.
Stiles clasped Derek's fingers. "I'll be right back." He dropped his hand, and winked. Then he sunlight-leapt away to Derek's front yard.
***
Stiles had gotten the spheres from Derek's. Just as he'd thought, leaving them alone for a while had allowed the dead one to recharge its power. They were thrumming in his hands as he held them up to Deaton's inspection.
"Amazing, Stiles," the druid said, with admiration.
The praise spooked Stiles. It didn't help that Scott beamed at him, as if to say what a good guy Deaton was. Stiles gave Scott an unimpressed look.
Deaton got Stiles to sit in a circle drawn in chalk on the floor. With instruction, Stiles used the spheres to look for the Nemeton piece they thought Brine was using. It required Stiles to hold both spheres in one hand and run his other hand over the map in front of him.
As he delved into the spheres' magic he could feel pin pricks of awareness, hundreds of them. They were dormant for the most part, but some were in use like the Triskelion box. Only a few were still in the Beacon Hills county area. The further away they were, the lighter the awareness Stiles had of them.
Stiles found one in Beacon Hills which stood out from all the rest. This pin prick was fighting its use, setting off sparks of lightning along the energy fields. Stiles hoped the magical backlash hurt Brine, who wasn't fae and wasn't even druid. The idea he was using Nemeton wood was enough to make Stiles almost loose his thread of awareness. As he strengthened the connection to the little energy signature, his fingers continued to track over the map. After a few seconds, they started to get hot. It didn't hurt him, but Lydia gasped in shock.
He dropped the connection, and opened his eyes. "What?" he asked, and looked down at the map, pausing when he saw where Brine was.
Pocketing the spheres, he picked the map up and smoothed it out on the examination table. There was a burn mark on the map, right over the industrial area where Stiles was held during his kidnapping.
Scott's mouth dropped open, Malia grunted in surprise and Derek growled. But Stiles remained unmoved.
"It's probably the same room, isn't it?" he said, offhand. His fingers hovered above the mark.
"The police checked there!" Scott exclaimed. "It was one of the first places."
"Brine may have moved in after they did," Lydia mused. "Unless this is a trap." Everyone turned to her, and she rolled her eyes in exasperation. "What? We don't know what he knows. Assume the information we have is misleading and then no one gets hurt."
Stiles reached over and squeezed her arm. She gave him a crooked smile.
"If this is a trap, are we going to spring it?" Malia asked.
"Yes," Derek said, placing his hands on the table and leaning over. "But not you, Stiles."
"What?"
Scott nodded. "I'll go with Malia and Derek."
"Like hell," Stiles argued, raising his voice.
"Stiles, for once just shut up and listen!" Derek growled, leaning over the examination table, both hands on either side of the map.
Stiles closed his mouth, glaring at him.
Derek blew out a breath. "Scott's right. The three of us will go check it out. We'll call you right after, I promise. You need to stay here."
"Why?"
"Because you're the one he's after. And I'm not okay with you walking into an unknown situation."
"Didn't we agree I'm the bait?" Stiles was going to talk to Derek about his protectiveness. It was cute and everything, but not when it meant he had no say in things.
"Wait," Scott butted in. "What if that's the trap? Split us up. What if he's going to take Stiles when we leave?"
"Then the spell Stiles did would have shown him to be in this vicinity," Deaton reminded him.
"I don't really like the way everyone is assuming that can happen again so easily. I do have powers now, people!" Stiles reminded them. "Am able to protect myself! Badass fae over here!"
"What if you have a panic attack when you face him?" Malia asked, bluntly.
Everyone gave Stiles varying degrees of curious looks.
He frowned. "I won't."
"Do you know that for sure?" Derek asked him, gently.
"Yes?"
No one believed him. He wasn't even sure if he believed himself. The cold hard place in his heart throbbed. He refrained from touching his chest.
"Scott and I will go. Malia and Lydia will stay here with Stiles," Derek decided.
Scott nodded, giving Stiles a sympathetic smile.
Stiles grudgingly accepted the plan, though he had grave misgivings. Something felt wrong, like they'd overlooked an important detail. He was silent as he followed Scott and Derek out to the carpark.
Scott got on his bike. "Don't worry, bro. I've got that blue powder. Maybe I can use it on him."
"Not if it's like mountain ash," Stiles reminded him. "Or wolfsbane."
"Nah, Deaton said supernatural's can use it."
"What, really? Then why haven't we seen it before now? Just don't rely on it. We haven't tested it."
"Sure thing," Scott agreed.
Stiles turned to Derek. "You going to run there?" he asked, somewhat petulantly. He was still annoyed at his 'stay behind' orders.
Derek nodded.
Stiles sighed, turning his eyes skyward, before he said, "Take the jeep. Better than someone phoning the police about a wolf running the streets."
Derek stepped closer to him. "Thank you."
"Be careful," Stiles said, frowning.
"You too," Derek told him.
He went to give Stiles a quick goodbye kiss, but Stiles grabbed him and made sure the kiss lingered. His hands went into Derek's hair and he pressed up against him, opening his mouth. Derek was breathing heavier when they parted, and Stiles didn't bother to hide his smugness. Then he remembered Scott had probably seen the whole thing. When Stiles cast a quick look in his direction, Scott had a wide grin on his face.
Stiles felt his neck burn, and Derek held his palm over the blush. "Still?" he asked.
"I don't know why!" Stiles complained. His embarrassment at being seen kissing was so childish and stupid. He'd never been effected by it before. Ever.
Derek smiled at him. Kissed him quickly this time, and walked over to the jeep.
"Why don't you go with him?" Stiles asked Scott, who was putting on his helmet and still had a big stupid smile on his face.
"Stiles, no offense, but your jeep isn't as much fun as riding my bike is."
Stiles' mouth dropped open in disbelief. "Did you seriously just diss my jeep, man?"
Scott was laughing behind the helmet visor.
"You dick," Stiles said, without any heat. "My jeep is a classic!"
"Your jeep is held together by tape," Scott's muffled voice told him.
Stiles couldn't argue the point, but that didn't make his jeep anything less but the best car in the universe. She'd proven she ran on love, and sometimes even magic. "Yeah, well, just so you know, your bike ruined the idea of playing Quidditch for me!"
Scott shook his head, and revved his bike's engine.
"I mean it, Scott! Now I know I can never be a Quidditch player when they finally make flying brooms, because your riding like a maniac freaked me out too much! You'll get to enjoy being the world's greatest Seeker and I'll be stuck on the ground like a muggle!"
Scott pulled out of the carpark, waving at Stiles.
Derek rolled down the window of the jeep. "Love you, Stiles," he said, seriously. He looked tense but his eyes held a warmth that made butterflies twirl in Stiles' stomach like he was a young boy with his first crush.
He managed to say back, "Love you, too, Der," as his breath caught in his throat. "Be careful with my baby's window, k?" he pointed to where Derek had an arm resting.
Derek gave him a confused look, and Stiles shook his head and waved a hand. "You know what, never mind, just don't roll it back up. It'll get stuck and then you'll have to pull it from the top and roll the handle at the same time to get it to move."
Derek raised his eyebrows. His mouth had a telling quirk to the right side of it.
"Don't tell Scott," Stiles pleaded with him.