For some reason, it takes Stiles the better part of Monday afternoon to remember his mother was an Emissary, even if he hadn't known when she was alive. He leans back in his computer chair and studies his mother's laughing face in the picture on his desk. His mom was caring, polite, thoughtful, and stubborn (which Stiles obviously inherited).

Stiles only knew her as a mom, though. Did she at act any different within her pack? He can't imagine her being secretive, mysterious and vague like Deaton and Ms. Morrell; another trait he'd gotten from his mother is he wears every thought on his face. She was so open and joyful and full of hope... Stiles remembers when his home lost all of that light, after she was hospitalized and the doctor called one evening and said her body was rejecting all treatments, how they never saw anything like it, they'd keep her as comfortable as possible.

Crossing his arms, Stiles shakes his knee. If his mom was anything different than how Stiles remembers her being, he can't believe it. She'd been kickass and inspirational, strong and courageous. He suddenly wipes his sleeve over his eyes, feeling saddened; he'd love to have seen her in action.

He flings himself forward, shaking his limbs and bringing his spirits back. Stiles had finished his homework an hour ago, so he doesn't find the harm to take a peek at the journal; he won't look through the spells, but maybe his mother will have a clue what characteristics an Emissary has. Stiles turns the page after the trust quote and finds a journal entry. He sits on his bed with it in his lap, heart thudding.

July 1986

My mother took me home early from the meeting. I was so angry and my mother so disappointed in me. I fought with Trevor and Candice again today to the point where Alpha Simmons dismissed me; she had a word with my mother before she came to the car. The ride home was silent until we pulled into the drive. I told her Alpha Simmons' plans weren't ideal, that she or the whole pack should meet the pack coming in. Alpha Simmons wants to ignore them completely until they cause trouble; the whole pack and my mother agrees. I had stood and addressed to Alpha Simmons we should greet them before they start any mess so they are aware that we're active and protecting our city. We should meet them so we can assess their intentions and character; that is when Trevor and Candice shot down my suggestion.

I understand, as the youngest member of this pack, their reluctance to find themselves in a fight against this new pack, but they should notice they're leaving themselves open for attack.

My mother says as an Emissary-in-training I am not compatible with Alpha Simmons' pack. I share none of the pack's better attributes aside from Trevor and Candice's stubbornness. She tells me that I'll need to find my pack soon, those I'd be able to connect with in an emotional and ideal level. I don't understand, am I to be defined by my pack? I've just begun my path, but my mother isn't as helpful as I wish; she says it will come to me in time, but I still need guidance.

Tomorrow I'll meet the pack by myself. There is no changing my mind. I, at least, want to be certain they are harmless.

Stiles wants to flip the page and read more entries, but he thinks his question was resolved for his assignment. He also has much to think of what he learned in that one entry: being an Emissary has been in his family since, at least, his grandmother, whom he never met. More so, his mother was born in 1968, making her eighteen when she wrote this.

He lays back with his arms behind his head and the book on his chest, and puts himself in his mother's position. Is he 'compatible' to Scott's pack? He certainly has the same ideals as them as they know each other well enough (bar Aiden and Ethan, of course), so Stiles wonders on his mother's question about being defined by the pack. He doesn't know what that means, but before he can think on it, his dad knocks and opens the door.

"Hey, son." He looks pointedly at the journal. "Homework done?"

Stiles sits up and nods. "Yeah. Just get home?" He looks at the clock, nearly seven-o'clock. His dad makes an affirmative sound.

"I wanted to see if you wanted some dinner." Stiles smiles and lays the journal on his bedside table, following his dad downstairs. "You wouldn't believe who I saw at the store," his dad says as he pulls out two plates from the cabinet.

"Derek Hale?" Stiles guesses. "We doing leftovers? Whacha want?"

"Get the lasagna. I thought he left town?"

"Yeah, he came back Friday," he explains and pulls out the herb and butter spaghetti instead. His dad makes a face, but Stiles ignores it. "He came by Scott's work to talk with him."

"Oh," his father's eyebrows rise. "Is he going to join the pack?"

Stiles is dividing the leftovers when he pauses and connections click together in his mind. "Oh my God, that's what it was about!"

"What?"

"When Derek came by and wanted to talk with Scott, Scott wouldn't tell me what was up and said it was a 'decision made best for his friends,'" he air quotes with a sarcastic tone and gives a dramatic sigh.

"Maybe this is a test for himself," his dad suggests. "He's gotta think if this will hurt the pack." Stiles narrows his eyes at him.

"For only knowing about werewolves for some-odd months, you've become really perceptive about the whole thing," he remarks. "Are you Googling?" His dad knocks his head as he steals a plate and Stiles laughs.

They sit at the table, and Dad asks, "So, how is the thing with Deaton coming?"

That reminds Stiles of the entry he read. "Did you know Grandma? Mom's mom?"

"I met her briefly a few times. Ornery woman. She didn't like me," he says, thinking back. He wipes his mouth with a napkin and studies his son. "She passed away the night your mother went into labor with you. Why?"

Stiles never knew that, and it makes him want to look deeper into his mother's family history; it seems like a surreal coincidence for her to die when he was born. "She was an Emissary like Mom," he answers, "and she taught Mom to be one. Seems like it was the family business."

"Better than passing antique China. I wish it was only antique China," he says wistfully, and Stiles flings a noodle at him. "Not sorry. You know I rather you not do this at all."

"You win Father of the Year. Deaton has me doing two assignments. One: I have to believe that I can manipulate life around me to give me what I want, and two: figure how in the hell I'm to define what an Emissary is."

"Well the actual definition-"

"No where close, Dad," Stiles says with a smile. "Like, from what I read from Mom's journal, Grandma was expecting her to pick up traits from the pack they were in."

Its news to his dad. "She was in a pack?" Stiles nods, scrapping his plate clean, and his father makes a disgusted expression. "Chew your food, Stiles."

Stiles shrugs; he wants to get a couple hours of gaming before bed, but as he puts his plate in the sink, his dad very hesitantly asks, "Can I read the journal? I'll make sure you'll have it by tomorrow morning." Stiles runs up the stairs before Dad can take back the question and grabs the book that is so dear to them both now, words from a wife and mother never read by her husband and son.

"Thank you," his father says earnestly, and he lays it away from his dinner gently. Stiles claps a hand on his shoulder and shakes him slightly, then takes the trip upstairs again.

His phone beeps when he enters his room, and its a text from Scott.

From: Scotty McWolfbutt
Group meeting before school.
Meet on the front steps at 7.
Important.

Stiles' tongue sticks between his teeth as he texts back immediately:

To: Scott McWolfbutt
Finally gonna let us know about Derek?

From: Scott McWolfbutt
I'm not going to ask how you know.
Get your ass up in the morning.

Oy Vey. Early mornings and Stiles do not commute. He'll have to go to bed earlier than planned if he wants to arrive at seven and not a few minutes before the bell rings. To rub it in, however, of his awesome detective skills, he texts Derek the good news, because why not?

To: I'm a Sourwolf Now
Your application is being taken for the board review. Congratulations.

Stiles tosses his phone on his bed and dives in after it. He grabs his Xbox controller, intending to shit around on Minecraft, but his phone beeps again from under him.

From: I'm a Sourwolf Now
Your text was interesting to think on.

That makes him pause for a moment, wondering if the power of belief worked for anyone. He asks for clarification:

To: I'm a Sourwolf Now
You understood it?

From: I'm a Sourwolf Now
Obviously not your words.

Stiles is able to hear the tease in that and he smirks.

To: I'm a Sourwolf Now
Advice from a great teacher.

Derek doesn't reply, so Stiles sets the phone on the nightstand and mines until he hits lava, then his character runs like hell.

Stiles is predictably the last one to pull into the student parking lot. He squeezes between the bike rack and Allison's car and grabs his backpack as he hops out. His friends are talking between themselves, but the murmuring dwindles down as he approaches; Lydia won't look at him, but Allison's lips lift in a smile.

Scott nods his head in greeting. "Alright. Sorry for cutting into everyone's sleep schedule, but I have something to ask. Some of you are aware Derek's back in Beacon Hills," he states, and the rest of the werewolves make sounds of agreement, Aiden and Ethan seeming unsettled. Lydia's head snaps up, eyes wide.

"Derek's back? Since when?"

"Friday," Scott answers. "He came to talk with me. He asked if he could join the pack, but I wanted the weekend to think about it myself before I asked for everyone's opinion. I understand there's some history with Derek with practically everyone here, so I'm going to listen to all of your worries or anything else you want to add," several mouths opened to speak, but Scott quickly held up a hand to silence them before they began.

"One at a time," he stresses gently.

Lydia's arm shoots in the air, and the Alpha points at her. "I'd like it if Derek was in the pack," she says, surprising some of them. "He's reliable and trustworthy. The pack would benefit having him around considering he's the only natural-born werewolf we know besides Peter and Cora."

Stiles raises an eyebrow at the twins. "You two were bit?"

The pair of them shuffle uncomfortably under the scrutiny, but make small sounds of, "yes". They don't elaborate.

Lydia's head tilts, considering. "Where is Cora, anyway?"

Stiles wants to also add where the fuck is Peter because he's been off their Creep Radar for three months, but it isn't relevant. He must be lurking around somewhere doing Creep Things that Creeps Do.

"Cora went back to South America," Scott answers. "Derek told me that the pack she lived with happily took her back in."

"And Derek isn't with her," Isaac drawls, "why?"

"He said it didn't feel right," Scott explains. "He didn't know anyone, and even with Cora's - or their own word he couldn't trust them completely. He also mentioned having conflicting views with the Alpha, so he needed to leave. Do you have something to add, Isaac?"

The blonde boy shrugs his shoulders in a way that makes Stiles cringe; if there were a sound effect, he can imagine Isaac popping his shoulders out and back into place.

"I was his Beta once," Isaac says wistfully, scrunching his face against the morning sun as he looks anywhere but his pack. "I think I remember saying some really horrible things to his face a couple times. Shouting, more like. It might be weird."

Scott kneels beside him and puts a hand on his shoulder, forcing Isaac to look at him. "I can promise you that there will be no retaliation from previous encounters. Allowing Derek to be in the pack, I'm assuring a compromise between all my Betas, my friends. If he threatens you- any of you," his gaze sweeps around the group, falling longer on Aiden and Ethan before returning to Isaac, "then he can't stay."

He stands again. "This is why its a pack decision. To me, you guys come first before any other."

Stiles snorts. "Well, except your mom. I don't know about your dad, but I'd gladly leave him to a starving, dangerous creature so it really isn't up to me to save him." Allison elbows him.

"Stiles," Scott scolds lightly. "Not the time." He looks at Isaac again. "Is that alright?"

After a moment, Isaac nods decisively and Scott gives an encouraging smile. He turns to Allison.

"I smell your anxiety, what's wrong?"

Allison grimaces. "I'm all for it with Lydia's reasons, but speaking of dads, I don't think my dad will like it if Derek hangs around us. We may trust Derek, but he probably still doesn't; I don't know for sure but I think he'll flip out. Derek killed my mom, and yes, I know it was for a reason but I don't think you'd ever really forgive the man who killed your wife."

It takes a little longer for Scott to form his reply because it needs to be addressed carefully. Stiles is glad to see that the rest of them are patient with Scott as he is with them because Scott cares so deeply about the issues they're going through and the concerns they have. Scott always had the innocent facade about him, even when the pair of them were just a couple of troublemakers, and Stiles can't fathom how he's kept it now when some of it should have been replaced with darkness. Sometimes, Scott truly is a saint.

Stiles watches as Scott takes Allison's fumbling hands into his, noticing from his peripheral vision Isaac perking up where he sits. Slowly, Allison looks from their hands to Scott's face.

"To be honest, all I can say is that we will cross that road when it happens. I respect your father, he's been trying so hard to be a good man to all of us. I also respect Derek because he's been trying just as hard," Scott says earnestly. "He deserves a chance. I believe we will be good for him, and if I need to speak with your dad, I will.

"Is that okay for right now?"

Allison gives a nod. "Yeah."

Scott smiles again and faces the twins. "I've accepted the both of you through my friends. I've gotten to know both of you, and I feel your guilt from everything that's happened before. You two are still part of my pack; I can trust my life with your hands, so your opinion still counts to me," he stresses, consequential.

Ethan looks to Aiden. They both look as uncomfortable as they did when the conversation started. Aiden's jaw ticks but eventually he says tightly, "We've killed his Betas-"

"Not me," Isaac offers very unhelpfully.

"Isaac," Scott chides and motions for Aiden to continue.

"-how do you expect there to be no hostility?"

"Because I know you did it under orders of Kali," Scott says without skipping a beat. Stiles' eyebrows rise again; he'd suspected that's how the once-Alpha twins got the easy pass though he never knew for sure. "I'd expect Derek to be adult enough to understand the feeling of being forced to do something he didn't want to. If he knows this, there shouldn't be a problem."

Ethan seems to accept this response more easily than Aiden but they agree for the time being.

"Stiles?" Scott finally prompts him.

"Hm? Oh, yeah," Stiles shrugs. "A-okay here. I don't really care either way, you know?"

"I knew that," he smirks. "I was just going to tell you not to move because Isaac tied your laces together."

"What the hell?"

Which, of course, causes the initial reaction to look down and try to spread his feet apart, which, of course, ends horribly for Stiles because he tends to overreact and spazz with everything he does, and he topples over when he trips over his backpack.

"Jesus on a fuckin' cracker ow, REALLY ISAAC!" he hollers after rolling to a stop at the bottom of the, thankfully, short incline of stairs. He glares at all their laughing, stupid faces. "I'm going flay all your asses and give it to Derek as a welcoming gift. Especially yours, Isaac," he gripes and flips around and tugs at his laces.

Thankfully he can have as much patience as Scott, sometimes, or they would all be-

Stiles pauses.

Huh.

"Stiles?" Allison calls. "Did you hit your head?"

Stiles stares at her stupidly for a second before clearing his throat and shaking his head. He gets to his feet. "Uh, no. I just realised something for my homework. I think-" He stops himself, grinning.

"I believe I'm on the right track."