Capítulo 12: Chapter 12: Friends and Enemies
The next morning, Stiles was the first up. He could hear Isaac in the room beside his whimpering. Before he really understood what was happening, Stiles was in the other boy's room. Isaac was curled on his side, tears streaming down his face whining quietly, still asleep. Stiles gently touched Isaac's shoulder and he woke up with a yelp. Suddenly he was thrashing, and Stiles jumped back, trying to recall what he knew about dealing with trauma victims. Right. No touching. Grounding. Orientation. Comfort. "Isaac, it's okay! It was just a dream. You're safe now. You're in the guest bedroom at my house." Stiles kept his voice quiet and inched towards him as he stilled. He bowed his head a bit. "You with me?" Isaac nodded. "Good." Stiles checked the clock. "My dad's gonna be home soon. You wanna help me make some breakfast for all of us?" Isaac nodded again. "I'll bring you some clothes you can borrow so we can get ready for school. Then I'll meet you in the kitchen when you're ready." Stiles smiled gently. "That okay?" He waited for another nod before going back to his room. He changed quickly and found some of his bigger clothes that would probably fit Isaac before heading to the kitchen to start breakfast. Stiles decided he was going to stick with the easiest thing and started making some eggs, sausage, and hash browns. Before he did anything with the food, he started a pot of coffee. Then he started with the potatoes and got the sausage cooking. By the time he had both of those in the pan, Isaac had joined him.
"What can I do?" Isaac asked.
"There are plates in the cabinets. Can you get out four?" Stiles pointed to the cabinet on the other side of the sink. Isaac did as he was told. While he was setting the table, Derek emerged from the basement. He looked grumpier than usual but in a soft way. The way people only look after waking up earlier than they're used to. He went straight for the coffee. "Not a morning person, Sourwolf?" Stiles teased. Derek let out a low growl but didn't say anything as he poured himself a cup. The Alpha downed half of it before sparing a moment to glare at Stiles.
"Sourwolf?" Isaac asked. He leaned against the table, sipping his own cup of coffee, which he had poured copious amounts of sweetener into. Stiles himself didn't drink coffee. If he needed caffeine, he preferred soda or energy drinks.
"Yeah. 'Cause he's always a grump and he's a werewolf. So, he's a Sourwolf." Stiles grinned.
"Don't call me that," Derek muttered. Stiles laughed, and even Isaac smiled a little.
"Somebody help me get this stuff to the table." Stiles gestured to plate of sausage while he grabbed the bowls of hash browns and eggs. Isaac obliged and soon all three of them were at the table. While they were making their plates, the Sheriff came in, looking tired but otherwise all right. He poured himself a cup of coffee and joined them at the table as they all devoured the food. Werewolf metabolism meant Derek and Stiles ate far more than either Isaac or the Sheriff. Stiles made sure to keep the hash browns away from his dad for as long as possible, but Derek apparently got sick of his constantly moving the plate and simply ate all the remain hash browns. The conversation was light, with Stiles supplying most of it.
Then Isaac sighed nervously. "So, about last night?" he asked. Derek looked at Stiles, who had slowly put his fork down. The Sheriff let out an explosive breath.
"All right. First things first, tell me that Stiles didn't kill anybody," the Sheriff said. The order was directed at Derek.
"Stiles didn't hurt anyone last night. None of us did," Derek replied.
Noah nodded. "Okay. Now, Isaac, you were locked in that freezer until Derek found you right?"
Stiles' stomach dropped. "Locked in a freezer?" he chocked.
"From dinner until then," Isaac mumbled. He pushed some eggs around his plate, refusing to look up.
"All right. Now, kid, you'll be staying with us until the end of the school year. Tara got that all setup, but there's something you need to know." Noah leaned over and put his hand on Isaac's shoulder. "Isaac, your dad is dead." Isaac started, looking up instantly at the Sheriff. His scent spiked with what Stiles thought was hope. "Somebody killed him last night."
"He's really dead?" Isaac asked.
"He's really dead."
"And I think I know who killed him," Derek sighed. He met Stiles' eyes.
"Jackson," Stiles realized. "You said I was right about Jackson." Derek nodded slightly, folding his arms over his chest.
"What's the Whittemore kid got to do with this?" the Sheriff sighed.
"Derek bit him the same night Peter bit me, but he was rejecting the bite. We thought he might've been immune like Lydia, but I wanted Derek to check on him last night anyways."
"When I got there, something else was in the trees. It had scales and slit yellow eyes. Jackson wasn't in his room," Derek said.
"So you think Jackson killed Mr. Lahey?" Noah asked. Derek nodded. "But you don't know for sure. Until we know for sure, none of you say anything about this. All right?" All three of them nodded their agreement. "Isaac, you don't have to go to school if you don't want to."
"I'll go. It's better than doing nothing," Isaac said with a shrug. "Can I ask about werewolves now?"
"I'll tell you all about it on the way to school. You need anything from your house?" Stiles said gathering up the now empty plates and leaving them in the sink. He'd do the dishes that night. Isaac shook his head. "Good. Let's go before we're late."
"I'll have a deputy take you by your house after school to get everything you need," the Sheriff supplied.
"Thanks, Sheriff Stilinski," Isaac said, already heading for the door.
"Love you, Dad," Stiles called, snatching his bag and keys.
"Love you too."
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