[1x10; Co-Captain]

"Siri, buddy, come on," Olivia called, her bare feet freezing against the cold concrete surrounding her pool as she waited for her puppy to finish going to the bathroom. "Let's go, Sirius!"

Bringing her fingers up to her mouth, she whistled. After a few seconds of waiting in silence, she huffed and started walking to the gate that separated her yard from the preserve. She wished that she had thought to put on shoes because, while their grass was pretty soft and the dog waste was picked up every-other day, there were still some pebbles and sticks pricking the sensitive skin on the bottom of her foot.

"Sirius, are you there, bud?"

The light from the moon gleamed against the grass, lighting up the gate enough that Olivia could see without a flashlight. The gate was open—which meant that Sirius was probably somewhere in the preserve right about now.

Damn it, Olivia thought, Lydia's gonna kill me.

"Siri?" Olivia called, stepping out of the limits of her backyard. "Sirius?"

From her left, a branch snapped in half; Olivia whipped around at the noise and almost screamed when she saw two figures in the shadows of the trees. Before she could make a sound, Peter and Derek stepped out into the moonlight.

Sirius was in Derek's arms, happily rubbing his head against his leather jacket.

"Cute dog," Peter said casually, crossing his arms over his chest.

Olivia's bottom lips quivered as she looked from her dad—his face now fully healed—to Derek, who didn't look happy at all. His pale-green eyes were narrowed and his jaw was clenched tightly. He was fully healed from his fight with Peter at the hospital, though his clothes were still stained with blood.

"What are you doing here?" she asked quietly as Derek let Sirius down.

The puppy ran over to Olivia; she scooped him up and pressed him protectively to her chest.

"I'm here for you, of course," Peter said, a hint of a smile curling his lips.

Olivia didn't like his smile anymore; there was something menacing about it.

"Ollie, cupcake, don't you want to be in my pack?" Peter stepped closer to Olivia but she stepped away just as quickly.

There had been a time when all she wanted to do was run into her father's arms—things had obviously changed.

"No, I don't," Olivia said defiantly, raising her chin. She sent Derek a hard look, unable to believe that he was actually working with her father. Peter had killed Laura, for God's sake.

"We're family."

"You killed your family!" Olivia exclaimed, looking at him with wet, accusing eyes. "You killed Laura, you nearly killed me, Dad!"

"I wasn't actually going to kill you," Peter rolled his eyes at her dramatics. "You just happened to be there."

"Yeah, that's why you had Jennifer lure me to school that night," Olivia threw back at him. "so we could have a little dad-and-daughter chat while Scott was ordered to kill me and my friends."

"Enough Olivia," Peter said, his voice growing stern. "I'm trying to make things right."

"You're murdering people!"

"Only the ones responsible," he explained, stepping closer to her. "Don't you understand? I'm killing the ones who did this to me, to your mother."

Olivia gasped softly in realization, tears falling from her eyes. All of these murders, the victims had something to do with the fire? They worked with Kate Argent to kill her family. Her mother?

Peter nodded, as though he could read her mind. "Every one of them," he said strongly. "Don't you want to help me get revenge? To help me finish what I started?"

It was tempting—it was so tempting. She hated Kate Argent so much for what she did to her family and she had always wanted to get revenge on the hunter. She didn't know that other people had been involved with Kate but they helped kill her family too. A dark part of her knew that they deserved what they got.

But the other part of her, the larger part, knew that revenge wouldn't solve anything—for her, at least. Her mother would have never wanted her to kill anyone, not even if they deserved it. Grace Martin was a forgiving soul through and through and though Olivia could hold a grudge, she wanted to be a person that her mother could be proud of.

Killing Kate wouldn't solve her grief over her mother's death. It wouldn't do anything but rob Allison of family—and wouldn't that make her just as bad as Kate? Who even knew that Peter was going to stop at Kate? What if he went for the whole Argent family?

Throughout the time Olivia had gotten to know Allison, she'd come to love her. She was one of her closest friends and she didn't deserve to pay for what Kate did. She was innocent, just like Olivia's family was.

Olivia shook her head. "No, no!" she shouted; Peter's eyes hardened. "I'm not a killer, Dad. I know that they deserve it but it wouldn't change anything, okay? Mom's still gone; she's not coming back. Please, just stop this."

Peter smiled bitterly, his blue eyes glowering at her. "I'm not going to stop."

He turned around and walked into the preserve, leaving Olivia horrified and afraid of what was to come.

Giving Derek a betrayed look, Olivia ran back into her yard and locked the gate before rushing back into her house. She made sure the alarm was on and the locks were secure; with Lydia and Natalie in the house, she was nervous that somehow Peter and Derek could get in and harm them.

When she entered her bedroom and set Sirius on her bed, she jumped when her phone rang. To her relief, it wasn't Peter or Derek; it was Stiles.

"Hello?"

"Olivia, we have a serious problem," Stiles practically shouted. "Derek's with Peter."

"Yeah," Olivia said sullenly. "I know. The showed up at my house."

"Wait, are you serious?" Stiles asked nervously. "Are you okay? Do you need me to come over?"

"No, no, I'm fine."

"You're not—you're not with them, are you?" his voice turned hesitant. "I mean—"

Olivia was taken aback by his question. Sure, they didn't know each other that well, but she thought Stiles knew her enough that she wouldn't join her dad and kill people.

"No, uh, I have to go, Stiles," Olivia didn't want to talk anymore. "Um, yeah, I have to go."

"Wait, Livvy—"

"Bye."

Olivia ended the call in the middle of Stiles' protests and fell face-first on her bed, tears already springing to her eyes.

-

-

"Holy shit, go!"

Scott pounded encouragingly on the dashboard as Stiles pressed on the gas pedal, speeding through the Iron Works. Stiles' eyes darted back and forth between the road and Scott, whose head was sticking out of the window like a dog.

"Am I going the right way?" Stiles called to him.

"Yeah, keep going straight!" Scott gave him a thumb's up. "Hurry, I caught Mr. Argent's scent."

Stiles cursed under his breath and sped up.

At the lacrosse game, while Stiles, Derek, and Olivia were confronting Peter, Scott had overheard a conversation between Kate and Chris Argent. Kate had spotted the scratches on the back of Jackson's neck and asked Mr. Argent about it, who told her that it was possible to change into a werewolf through a scratch.

So, now the Argents thought that Jackson was the second beta. It was good for Scott but not for Jackson.

That was how Stiles found himself driving through the warehouse district, looking for Jackson's stupid Porsche.

"All right, it's there," Scott fell back into his seat and pointed at an upcoming warehouse.

Stiles turned into the driveway and went down the ramp, spotting Jackson's Porsche and Mr. Argents red SUV. Jackson and Mr. Argent were standing at the back of his sports car, the trunk popped open.

He squealed to a stop.

"What's up?" he greeted Mr. Argent and Jackson with an overly friendly wave.

Scott smiled. "Is everything okay?"

"Hey, Scott," Mr. Argent smiled tensely. "your friend, here, was having car trouble. We're just taking a look."

Stiles gave an impressed sound as Scott commented, "There's a shop right down the street. I'm sure they have a tow truck."

"Yeah," Stiles added, looking over at Jackson. "You want a ride?"

Scott opened his door as Jackson blinked uncertainly.

"Hey, come on, Jackson," Stiles tried to persuade him. "you're way too pretty to be out here all by yourself."

He couldn't believe he just said that but it was, unfortunately, necessary. Olivia would kill him if he had an opportunity to help Jackson and instead the lacrosse co-captain got hurt.

Jackson pressed his lips together and nodded; he walked toward the Jeep while Scott jumped out to let him in and Stiles kept an eye on Mr. Argent. The hunter bent down over the Porsche's engine for a brief second before closing it.

He walked to the driver's door and pulled it open. "Hey, boys," he called, leaning down to turn the key; the engine rolled over. "told you I knew a few things about cars."

Mr. Argent smirked at them and got back into his SUV, driving away.

As soon as he was out of sight, Jackson angrily turned to Scott. "What, are you following me now?"

Scott slammed his door shut and faced Jackson, his jaw clenched in irritation. "Yes, you stupid fucking idiot!" he exclaimed. "You almost gave away everything right there!"

Stiles jumped out of the Jeep and made his way over to Jackson and Scott, figuring that he'd have to break up a fight.

Jackson scoffed. "What are you talking about?"

"He thinks you're the second beta."

"What?" Jackson blinked in shock.

"He thinks you're me!" Scott slammed his fist into the side of the Jeep, grunting with hostility.

"Dude," Stiles objected. "my Jeep!"

Scott ignored him. "I can hear your heart beating from a mile away, literally!" Scott told Jackson. "Now he thinks that there's something wrong and now I have to keep an eye on you so he doesn't kill you too!"

Scott growled and went to hit the Jeep again but Stiles pulled him back.

"Okay, how about we step away from Stiles' Jeep," he recommended.

"You know what, this is your problem, not mine!" Jackson declared, angrily pointing at Scott. "I didn't say anything, which means you're the one that's gonna get me killed, okay?" he pushed Scott into the Jeep. "This is your fault!"

Stiles threw his hands up in exasperation. "Can we stop hitting my Jeep?" he cried. When Scott pushed Jackson back, he intervened. "Yo, all right, guys. Stop, all right?"

Jackson backed away and ripped Stiles' hand off his shoulder.

"When they come after you, I won't be able to protect you," Scott seethed at Jackson before calming down and looking at Stiles. "I can't protect anyone."

Stiles raised his eyebrows at Scott. "Why are you looking at me?"

Scott just pressed his lips together and looked back at Jackson. Jackson rolled his eyes.

"You know, now you have to do it," he said. "Get me what I want and I'll be fine protecting myself."

"No, you won't!" Scott disagreed. "Just trust me. All it does is make things worse."

"Oh, yeah, really?" Jackson said in disbelief. "You can hear anything you want and run faster than humanly possible. That sounds like a real hardship, McCall."

Scott narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, I can run really fast now, except half the time, I'm running away from people trying to kill me!" he stated. "And I can hear things like my girlfriend telling people that she doesn't trust me anymore right before breaking up with me."

Jackson scoffed, shaking his head.

"I'm not lying to you," Scott continued. "It ruins your life."

Jackson shook his head again. "It ruined your life," he scoffed. "You had all the power in the world and you didn't know what to do with it. You know what it's actually like? It's like you turned sixteen and someone bought you a Porsche when they should have started you out with a nice little Honda."

Jackson stepped toward Scott, lowering his voice. "Me? I drive a Porsche."

He turned around and didn't spare them another glance as he got into his Porsche and drove away.

Stiles sighed heavily. "I really hate that guy."

-

-

Lydia huffed loudly as she, Olivia, and Allison walked through the preserve, the cold air prickling unpleasantly at her skin. Olivia rolled her eyes at her cousin's aggravation and continued following Allison, a little more than curious about what the taller brunette was carrying in the large black bag swung over her shoulder.

"Allison, when you said you needed to stop for an errand before we went shopping, a five-mile hike in the woods was not what I was expecting," Lydia was limping a bit, having worn high heels that seemed impractical even for the mall.

Olivia stuffed her glove-clad hands into her coat. "What are we even doing out here?" she asked Allison. "Is this so our calves look better in heels?"

Allison snickered at her. "No, I just want to see something," she rolled her eyes. "Oh, Lydia, before I forget, I wanted to ask if you're okay with something."

"Go for it."

"Jackson asked me to the winter formal," Allison admitted, her voice a little triumphant.

Lydia faltered and Olivia gave her cousin a concerned look.

She knew what Allison was trying to do but she wasn't going to get into the middle of it. Both Allison and Lydia were in the wrong.

"Did he?" Lydia's voice shook.

"Mmhm," Allison nodded with a smirk. "Just as friends but I just wanted to make sure you're okay with it first."

Lydia took a second to answer. "Sure," she said shortly. "as long as it's just friends."

"Well, yeah, I mean," Allison laughed bitterly. "it's not like I would take him to the coach's office during lacrosse practice to make out with him or anything."

"Uh," Lydia winced, ashamed. "About that..."

"Don't bother lying about it, Jackson already told me," Allison said sharply.

"I wasn't going to lie," Lydia declared. "I was going to apologize."

Allison hummed as the three of them stopped walking when they came upon a small clearing.

"Allison, I'm sorry," Lydia apologized sincerely. "I shouldn't have kissed Scott. I was angry with Jackson but that's no excuse."

Allison set her bad on the ground and knelt next to it, looking up at Lydia for a moment. "Thanks."

Lydia nodded and crossed her arms over her chest, stepping closer to Olivia for warmth.

"Okay, this area will do," Allison declared, unzipping her bag.

"Will do for what?" Olivia asked and gasped loudly as Allison pulled a crossbow out of the bag. "What the hell is that?"

"It's a crossbow," Allison answered, pulling a shooting glove onto her right hand. She grabbed an arrow and something that looked like pinecone made out of lead. "I want to see something."

She started screwing the mysterious pinecone onto the end of an arrow, so Olivia assumed it was supposed to be some kind of arrowhead.

"What does that even do?" Lydia eyed it carefully.

Allison smirked. "We're about to find out."

She stood up and placed the arrow in the bow; she pulled back the string, aimed at a tree on the edge of the clearing, and let go. The arrow soared through the air and when it hit the three, it exploded, flashing brightly.

Olivia gaped at the sparkling tree, now figuring out what exactly that arrowhead was. Derek had told her about them; they were flash bolts. When they make contact with something, the flash that appears blinds werewolves—or any creature that has sensitive eyes.

Shit, Olivia thought, this is not good.

"What the hell was that?" Lydia breathed.

Allison put down her bow, looking thoughtful. "I don't know."

"Well," Lydia clapped sarcastically. "that was fun! Any more lethal weapons you wanna try out?"

A branch snapped somewhere in the distance; Olivia and Allison's heads turned at the noise.

Olivia really hoped it wasn't Peter again; she couldn't protect Allison against him. If even Derek could hardly get a good punch on him, she was absolutely screwed.

Allison held her bow out to Olivia. "Hold this."

"What?" Lydia asked sharply as Olivia hesitantly took the bow and awkwardly held it away from her body. "Why does she need to hold it?"

"Because I thought I heard something," Allison whispered, taking off her glove.

"So what if you heard something?" Lydia whispered back.

"So," Allison gave her an annoyed look. "I want to find out what that something is. Don't worry," she assured Lydia and Olivia when they gave her panicked looks. "it's probably nothing."

"Allison, no!" Olivia hissed worriedly. "What if that nothing is something and that something is something dangerous?"

"Shoot it," Allison said, walking away.

"Oh, God," Olivia groaned as Allison walked out of sight. "Lyds, hold this," she handed Lydia the bow, ignoring the redhead's protests.

"Why?" Lydia whimpered, pouting at her.

"Hold on, okay?" Olivia pulled her phone out of her coat and quickly pulled up her messages with Stiles.

Livvy: Please tell me that Scott's following us

Livvy: Please

Olivia and Lydia gasped as they heard some grunting in the direction that Allison had walked to.

"Uh, should we call the police or something?" Lydia asked, her voice high.

Olivia's phone buzzed in her hand.

Stiles: Yeah, he is. Why?

Stiles: You okay?

Reading the messages, Olivia sighed in relief.

"No, I think it's okay," she assured Lydia, texting Stiles back.

Livvy: All's good

The words were hardly out of her mouth when Allison came back over to them, grabbing her bow from Lydia's grasp. She looked sad as she packed up her bag and threw it over her shoulder.

"Are you okay, Al?" Olivia asked quietly.

"Yeah," Allison confirmed. "I just don't feel like shopping today."

Lydia shrugged. "Well, we've got a week."

-

-

Stiles read the text message from Olivia, grateful that she was okay, and shoved the phone back into his pocket. He paused his video game and ran out of the living room, successfully sliding across the kitchen tiles toward his fridge.

Laughing to himself, he grabbed the half-empty milk carton and unscrewed the cap, drinking straight out of the bottle. He went to bring it back into the living room with him but he caught sight of his dad sitting at the dining room table, files, paperwork, and pictures spread out in front of him.

He put the milk back into the fridge and stepped into the dining room.

"Whatcha doing?" he innocently asked his dad.

Noah adjusted his reading glasses. "Work."

"Anything that I can help with?"

Noah glanced away from the file he was reading. "You know, if you poured me an ounce of whiskey," he showed Stiles how much he wanted, spreading his fingers an inch apart. "that would be awfully nice."

Stiles eagerly walked over to the liquor cabinet and pulled out the brand-new bottle of Jack Daniels he put there to replace the one he stole a few days before. He picked up a glass and walked back into the dining room, taking a seat at the table.

"Any leads?" he asked, reaching forward to pick up a discarded file. Noah slapped his hand away.

Noah shook his pen at him. "You know I can't discuss that with you," he said sternly. As Stiles opened the bottle of whiskey, he added, "Not too much."

Stiles nodded and poured an ounce of whiskey into the glass. He went to put the cap back on the bottle but paused thoughtfully. Whenever his dad was tipsy, he was a lot more talkative about his work with Stiles...maybe he would tell him what was going on in the Derek case.

He poured more whiskey into the glass until it was full.

"Okay," he sighed, putting the glass on the coaster by Noah's hand. "There ya go, Dad."

"Thanks."

"Bottoms up."

Noah's eyes didn't leave the file in his hand as he picked up the glass and took a drink. He emptied the glass without noticing how full it actually was. It was only five minutes later when the alcohol started to affect him.

"You know," he said, setting the glass down. "Derek Hale would be a whole hale of a lot—" he paused, cocking his head in confusion. "Hale of a lot?"

Stiles tried not to smirk because that was a great pun that he couldn't wait to try out on Olivia—he knew that she would probably roll her eyes at him or something cute like that.

"Hell of a lot?" Stiles suggested, trying to make it seem like he wasn't correcting his dad.

Noah grinned and pointed at him. "Hell. Yes, he would be a hell of a lot easier to catch if we could get an actual picture of him."

Stiles gave him a confused look. "How do you not have a picture of him?"

"It's the weirdest thing," Noah admitted. "It's like every time we tried to get a mug shot, it's like two...laser beams were pointing at the camera."

Stiles grabbed the picture out of his dad's hands. Two blue lens flares were blocking Derek's whole face, which he thought was kind of cool. It was like his own personal photo-blocker or something.

"Nice."

"Oh, my God," Noah groaned, taking off his glasses and leaning back in his chair. "God, that ounce hit me like a brick," he shook his head and pointed at Stiles again. "and I have said way too much and if you repeat any of that—"

"Dad, it's me," Stiles cut him off with a chuckle, innocently gesturing to himself. "I'm not gonna say anything. Come on."

Noah smiled at him and sighed as he looked back at the files on the table. Stiles picked one up and pulled out its contents, seeing old newspaper articles about the fire at the Hale house.

"See, the thing is, they're all connected," Noah said thoughtfully. "I mean, the bus driver that got killed? He was an insurance investigator assigned to the Hale house fire."

Stiles leaned forward, looking at the file on the bus driver that Noah had in front of him. "'Terminated under suspicion of fraud,'" he read.

Noah nodded. "Exactly."

Stiles furrowed his eyebrows. "Who else?"

Noah dragged another file in front of him. "The video store clerk who got his throat slashed," he pulled a picture of the slashed throat out of the file. "He's a convicted felon, history of arson."

Stiles blinked, putting down the newspaper articles. "What about the other two guys?" he asked, referring to the two victims the police found on the night of the full moon. "the guys who got killed in the woods?"

"Priors all over their records, including—"

"Arson," Stiles finished, horrified. "So maybe they all had something to do with the fire."

Scott had told him that Peter said he was going after the people responsible—now he knew what he meant. All the victims were allegedly involved in the fire and the murder of all those people in the Hale house.

In that moment, Stiles kind of understood Peter. If his mom had been killed by anything other than a biological illness, he'd want revenge too.

But, still, killing your own niece?

Noah slammed a file shut, catching Stiles' attention.

"Another shot?" he asked his dad, grabbing the bottle of whiskey.

"No, no, no," Noah waved at him dismissively. "No more."

"Dad, come on," Stiles tried to convince him, wanting to know more about the case. "You work really hard, all right? You deserve it."

Noah sighed. "Oh, my God," he rubbed his face. "I'm gonna have such a hangover."

Stiles chuckled. "You mean you're gonna have such a good night's sleep," he corrected him and started pouring him another glass. He lowered his voice into a whisper, "and I'm gonna have an eternity in the lowest circle of Hell."

By the time the second glass of whiskey was gone, Noah was full-blown drunk. He tried to put the glass back on the table but ended up dropping it. Luckily, Stiles used his fast reflexes and grabbed it before it could shatter on the floor.

Noah gave him a thankful smile as he set it carefully on the table.

"Oh, Stiles," Noah sighed, resting his head on his fist. "there's just so many questions."

Stiles frowned. "Like what?"

"Like, if Derek wanted to kill everyone involved with the fire, then why start with his sister?" Noah asked, trying to find a motive that he never would figure out. "I mean, she had nothing to do with it. Why make it look like some kind of animal did it?"

Stiles pressed his lips together, feeling guilty. His dad was absolutely torn up about this case and he would probably never know the truth. Noah was a good cop—one of the only ones out there—and he took it personally whenever there was a case he couldn't solve.

"When that cougar ended up in the parking lot, I checked with animal control," Noah went on. "You know the instances of wild animal reports were up seventy percent over the past few months? It's like they're just going crazy, running out of the woods. I don't know..."

"Or something's scaring them out," Stiles thought about the herd of deer that almost ran over Scott on the night he was bitten by the alpha.

Noah slowly smiled at him. "You know, I miss talking to you," he confessed. "It's like we never have time—"

As if proving his dad right, Stiles dug his hand into his pocket, trying to find his phone. "Dad, I have to make a phone call. I'm sorry, I'll be right back."

"—I do," Noah said sadly, watching as Stiles stood up. "I miss it...and I miss your mom."

Stiles froze in shock, not expecting those words to come out of his dad's mouth.

He knew how much Noah loved his mom and how horribly he missed her. Noah and Claudia had still been madly in love when she was diagnosed with her Dementia when Stiles was eight. They hardly talked about her since she died, as they were still raw from the holes she left in their hearts.

The illness destroyed Claudia; she couldn't remember Noah on some days and she couldn't remember Stiles at all. At some points, she thought that Stiles was some random little boy out to get her. She was violent, anxious, and disoriented most of the time as her mind battled with itself. Her slow descent into a lifeless shell was the worst thing Stiles and Noah had ever gone through.

And they still hadn't healed yet.

Stiles turned around to face his dad, his eyes stinging. "What'd you say?"

Noah didn't answer; he reached for the whiskey bottle but Stiles walked forward and grabbed it from him.

Noah closed his eyes, whispering, "Thanks."

Half an hour later, after helping his dad to bed and cleaning up downstairs, Stiles stared up at his ceiling as he laid in bed.

He was thinking about his mom. The memories were starting to get blurry the more he aged but he treasured them so much. There was the time when Claudia taught him how to swim, the day in December when he was seven and they spent all day making cookies for Santa, the vacation their family took to Mexico where they had authentic tacos that Claudia loved.

Nothing was the same without her, that was for sure. Stiles and Noah were managing fine but they would have done anything to have Claudia back.

Claudia's death changed Stiles. Before his mom died, he didn't really know exactly what death was, even though his grandmother had died a few years previously. Until his mom died in front of him, he didn't realize that death doesn't just happen to you. It also happens to the people you leave behind.

And that was the honest-to-God truth. Stiles knew that; after all, his panic attacks started after his mom died, his temper got worse, his ADHD was out of control for a while. In his opinion, a person's death was worse on the people they leave when they go off to whatever afterlife they believe in.

That was why Stiles was growing more afraid of the situation with Peter Hale. He wanted to live, he did—especially for his dad—but he knew that if Scott or Olivia were killed in this mess, he'd be broken.

It was getting so intense and it scared the shit out of him.

His phone rang from his bedside table, making him jump. He furrowed his eyebrows when he saw that it was Scott, and quickly answered it.

"Scott, what's up?"