To say that Stiles never thought he'd end up a psychic consultant for the police department his father had once been the sheriff of would be an understatement. In fact having anything to do with the BHPD had been one of the very last things Stiles had ever wanted to do, except on threat of death. Threat of charges for obstruction of justice, perjury, and guaranteed jail time even knowing who his father was however had apparently been plenty enough reason for Stiles to throw out that line of thinking and agree to the new sheriff of the BHPD, Lydia Martin, when she mentioned using his "unusual skills" (quotations heavily implied) and Stiles found himself often called into the precinct to figure out another case that stumped the detectives there.

He still wasn't quite sure how he had convinced his father to go along with the ruse when Lydia had given him a call to confirm when Stiles' abilities had first manifested. He thought it might have been a mix of guilt for forcing Stiles to notice every damn thing and train him into the best cop/detective after his mother's untimely death as well as the desire to keep Stiles in Beacon Hills longer than the annual two hour visit for dinner at the town's one and only diner for his Dad's birthday before he jetted off in his jeep to explore the greater part of mid-western America.

Scott had been easy enough to persuade. Adventure and the opportunity to play the favorite childhood game for real had been plenty of fodder for Scott to beg his boss for a more flexible schedule that guaranteed more time for him to come out into the field with Stiles and help him keep up the charade of being a bonafide psychic. The added bonus of working with detective Allison Argent was simply the cherry on top of the giant ice cream sunday that was their new and totally improved, awesome job.

Stiles, with the grudging help of his father, the over-exuberant help of his best friend, his eidetic memory, and sweet observation skills, found it pretty easy to convince the entire BHPD (okay, most of the BHPD, Stiles was pretty sure that the sheriff and Allison as well as one or two of the other detectives were more skeptical but willing to overlook it due to his high success rate) of his paranormal gift. There was however one exception, one person that just refused to buy into the idea that Stiles got a lot of his answers from the great beyond and that was with the youngest head detective the BHPD ever had, Derek Hale. It probably didn't help that when Derek had been a rookie cop, originally charged with traffic violations and stopping by the local high school when students got a bit too rowdy, he had been taken under his father's wing and mentored by the man who would make Stiles list how many woman were wearing rings and what type of rings they were in a restaurant before letting him have dessert.

Derek had been around for too many family dinners when Stiles was in high school, had watched him go through freaking puberty with a horribly obvious crush on the young police officer, to really believe that his mystic powers had all of a sudden manifested when he was eighteen, after he had taken off in his mother's old jeep without a look back and barely even a call over the next ten years. To say that Derek didn't like Stiles was an understatement. Stiles wasn't a big fan of the sour-faced detective either though Stiles could easily admit that he did still spend some time thinking about that face while in the shower.

So maybe Stiles spent a little too much time trying to push the detective's buttons while working together on a case, took a little too much joy in showing him up and making him feel like an idiot when Stiles caught the bad guy once again with the superior skills he possessed though no one really knew that's what they were. Derek was so easily riled up and maybe Stiles had a bit too much fun in making the detective growl and push him up against walls when his anger and frustration simply couldn't be contained. Stiles maybe liked the pushing (and consequent fondling) a little too much as well.

Still he had fun doing what he did, got a sense of joy and accomplishment in catching the bad guys and making Beacon Hills just a little bit a safer for it's inhabitants. He liked being home; found he had missed seeing Scott and his father everyday. He liked knowing that he had a steady income of checks from the BHPD plus the small private detective agency he had set up with Scott. He liked knowing he had a bed, a roof over his head, and food in his cupboard. He didn't miss the constant moving around, only having a duffle bag of personal items that spent more time in the trunk of his jeep than any other place. He liked the weekly dinners with his dad though he could do without the constant fighting over what the older man should eat in difference to his health. He even liked when his dad got on his case about pretending to be a psychic, about how he should be proud that he scored a perfect score on the detectives test when he was just sixteen and that he should have gone to the academy and became a real detective instead of playing pretend at being one.

Stiles would happily admit that he had a great life, that it had gotten a lot better since that fateful day when he had been called into the precinct by Derek Hale who had been under the impression that Stiles had become a petty thief in the ten years he had been away from Beacon Hills instead of just a hyper observant who had a thing for watching the seven o'clock news and calling in anonymous tips. If he could convince Derek Hale of his psychic awesomeness, Stiles was sure that it would become that much better.

The day had been shaping up to be a pretty good one when Stiles finally made his way into the Beacon Hills PD that afternoon. He had woken up to find that his one night stand had kindly vacated the premises of his apartment without taking anything or leaving anything behind, had made some banging pumpkin spice pancakes and turkey bacon for himself and his father after stopping by the ex-sheriff's house for breakfast, and his first appointment at the Psych office had been easily solved the moment his client stepped in the door, putting a fresh four hundred dollars in his bank account for the consultation.

No one had called him or requested his presence at the precinct but Stiles had found in the past that a majority of the cases the BHPD ended up sending his way were ones that he had wormed his way into much to the anger and chagrin of the Head Detective. He also found that the method added just a bit more street cred around the station when it came to his psychic gift, as if the spirits had led him to where he needed to be. He bounded into the station with his usual pomp and stance, taking care to stop by Heather, the secretary's desk to flirt and wow with whatever psychic observations he could make. She giggled and twirled her pretty golden curls around her finger leaning forward to show off her impeccable bosom in a silk blue top that probably went against uniform regulation. Stiles grinned widely and made sure Heather felt like the prettiest girl at the ball before he flounced off towards the clutter of detectives desk to scope out a new case. Heather waved him off with a smile and a blush, returning to her work a little bit happier than before.

Stiles nodded at the few detectives he passed and made sure to stop and joke around with Greenberg for a few minutes before he stealthily sunk down into Head Detective Derek Hale's desk chair. Hale's desk was pristine, free of any clutter and personal artifacts like family photos and desk charms. Stiles supposed he could understand the need for organization despite what his appearance often hinted at but the idea of not having at least one thing to cheer him up after a long hard day at the office had Stiles often leaving some small token behind. A pineapple, a little wolf figurine he happened upon at an antiques shop, a picture of his dad scowling in his old sheriff's uniform, arms crossed and lips pinched in annoyance as Stiles tried, and failed, to make him laugh for the picture having been ambushed at a crime scene. Stiles left behind tons of little things but they were never there when he returned and Stiles had no idea when the detective did with them but that never stopped Stiles from trying. He pulled out the small snow globe from his pocket and gave it a little shake before placing it neatly on the detective's desk, right next to monitor where he wouldn't miss it.

Stiles then took it upon himself to snoop through the neatly stacked pile of case files, skimming through the documents and shuffling through to the next when the case looked too simple; though he made sure to remember the perps for each one just in case Hale didn't get them on the first try. He sighed when it became apparent there were simply no interesting and high priority cases sitting in Hale's docket and he placed them back with gentle care, making sure they were in perfect order before leaning back in the desk chair and swiveling from side to side. He looked over at Allison's desk and smiled at the clutter, pictures and little trinkets taking up any open space not needed by the computer or case files she had spread across her desk calendar. Knowing Hale, she probably only had petty crime and small disturbances.

Stiles tapped his fingers on the armrests, pursing his lips as he looked around the mostly empty precinct, his brow furrowing in thought. The sheriff's office was notably empty. He pushed himself up out of the seat, sending it wheeling backwards into a file cabinet with a small clang before he bounded up to Greenberg and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. "Hey Greenberg, where is everyone?"

"Most likely at the crime scene," Greenberg replied with a slight frown, nodding as he did so. Stiles fought the urge to roll his eyes and managed but just barely, his smile going a little tight.

"Do you know where?" he asked after a moment of silence and starring at the young cop. Greenberg grinned and nodded, happy to smile along with Stiles without actually giving a verbal answer. Stiles raised his eyebrows in prodding and Greenberg luckily caught on, jerking slightly under Stiles' arm. "Oh! You want to know where!" Stiles nodded. "They're over in the preserve, about two miles in from the trail start at Centennial Park."

"Thanks buddy!" Stiles exclaimed, clapping Greenberg once on the shoulder.

"No problem! Someone apparently found a body while jogging this morning and called it in like an hour ago. I was supposed to go, you know and make sure no one enters the trail but Hale made me stay behind." Stiles frowned in sympathy and patted him once more on the back.

"I'm sorry to hear that man, he can be a real dick. Trust me, I know." Greenberg nodded emphatically, his own brows furrowed in anger. "Don't worry though, karma has a way of evening things out." Greenberg frowned in confusion and Stiles heaved a sigh. "The spirits, Greenberg," Stiles continued with a wave of his fingers. "They let me know these things. I promise you Hale will end up getting what he deserves."

"Yeah, like someone making him upload all the old case files from the basement onto the new server in the dark for hours on end with no help." Stiles lifted an eyebrow in response, his lips curling upwards and a laugh threatening to burst from him at the pout on Greenberg's face.

"Yeah dude, just like that." Greenberg nodded once and gave a loud 'humph' before he stalked away. Stiles shrugged his shoulders and dug his phone from his pocket, hitting Scott's number from his home screen. "Hey buddy," he grinned when Scott answered. "Meet me at the preserve trail over at Centennial Park in five. Wear your hiking boots! We got us a case!"

Scott pulled up on his old dirt bike shortly after Stiles parked his jeep, pulling off the helmet and giving his head a small shake as if to fix a shaggy mane of hair that hadn't existed since they were fifteen. Stiles grinned and wrapped an arm around his best friend's shoulders, giving one a loud clap as he began to lead him into the woods. "So what's up? Did the Sheriff really call us in on a case?" Stiles waved his free hand and started up the trail.

"Apparently a body was discovered early this morning by a couple of joggers. Police got up here early to secure the crime scene and hopefully find some evidence." Scott nodded and pressed his lips together as Stiles scanned the trees, trying to make out any signs or tells of what could have happened though he doubted he would find anything so far from the body.

"Okay but you still didn't answer my question. Did Lydia Martin call us in?" Scott huffed. Stiles gave a small shrug and a sheepish grin. "Stiles! I actually have work to do and Isaac isn't going to keep covering my shifts if he finds out that we aren't actually on a case!"

"Chill dude!" Stiles sighed, giving Scott's shoulder a friendly squeeze. "You know we're on this case, even if it isn't official yet. Just like last time and the time before that." Scott rolled his eyes and his shoulder out from under Stiles' arm.

"One day we won't and you'll get us kicked out or worse arrested for something like aiding and abetting criminals." Stiles raised an eyebrow as Scott stopped in the middle of the trail, leaves crunching loudly underneath his sneakers at the sudden weight. "I'm serious! Hale will arrest you Stiles and he'll arrest me too and then Allison will never go out with me." Stiles scoffed and shook his head, nudging Scott's shoulder with his own as he continued on.

"Nice to know where your loyalties lie." Scott frowned and followed him up the hill and deeper into the preserve. "Derek isn't going to arrest us. Nothing bad is going to happen. We're going to check out the crime scene, find some clues which the detectives will obviously have missed, solve a gruesome murder, show up Hale, and make Allison fall helplessly in love with you. It'll be a piece of cake!" Scott's deepening frown only served to remind Stiles how much his best friend didn't believe him though he didn't contradict him either and a moment later his frown had morphed into a dopey grin and his eyes had gone slightly glazed, most likely at the thought of Allison. Her named tended to trigger the same reaction most often than not.

Stiles and Scott hiked into the preserve, the trail changing from paved tar to gravel and finally dirt the farther they went. Stiles noted the foliage, the turning colors of leaves and the abundance of dead ones that still littered the ground from years past. A rustle from a little ways off to the side gave way to a fox weaving through out the trees as Stiles scanned the area, trying to find something out of place. The Centennial Park entrance was the closest one in location to the body so it made sense that the murderer either moved the body from there or killed the person on sight. The only other possible option was the old, decrepit Hale house which was located two miles from the opposite side of the crime scene and Stiles highly doubted anyone had come from there.

The Hale house was fenced off due to the structure's instability though Stiles knew that the abandoned house was often used as a place for local teenagers to engage in foolish acts such as getting high, or getting laid, or even his personal favorite, over-night scare dares which often resulted in youths running away in terror into the night. Stiles had never done anything like that, had preferred to keep away from the building that held so many painful memories for the Head Detective, then rookie cop whom his dad had taken a shining too, out of respect. He remembered his dad being called in the middle of the night to rescue kids and pre-teens from the building and the woods that surrounded it. He also remembered being eight and being woken up in the middle of the night to his dad crying and smelling of smoke as he hugged him tight. He remembered the headlines, prominent Beacon Hills family of ten dies in tragic accidental fire, only three survived; one survivor in a coma and suffering from severe burns. Stiles hated the idea of anyone being near the house probably as much as Derek Hale himself.

Laura Hale still owned the property and Stiles had heard rumors of her returning to Beacon Hills from New York to tear down the house and rebuild something new in it's place but in the eighteen years since the fire no such thing had happened.

They soon came upon the crime scene, trees strung with yellow tape as detectives and lab techs moved about the area, trying to gather as much evidence and information a possible. Leaves and the few detectives milling around obscured the body. One tech was crouched down and taking swabs from the victim's fingernails and another was perched on the balls of their feet a few spaces away collecting samples of leaves that probably had blood spatter. Detective Hale and Sherriff Martin were missing from the scene but Junior Detective Allison Argent was gazing down at the body with her hand over her mouth and her eyes tinted red.

Scott's gagged at the sight and stumbled backwards into a tree, announcing their presence. Allison turned around a wiped hastily at her eyes, sniffling softly as she approached. "What are you two doing her? We didn't call you in." Scott bowed his head slightly, frowning as he reached out to comfort her. She crossed her arms over her chest and shifted out of reach.

"Heard there was a body and you know how I can't resist a good body," Stiles joked, rocking back and forth on his feet. Allison's stare narrowed and she shook her head, her lips thinned and not breaking out into a fond, exasperated smile as usual. Stiles' grin dropped. "Why do I get the feeling this is not a good case?"

"When is a murder ever a good case?" she sighed and Stiles clamped his mouth shut against his automatic reply. Scott shifted uncomfortably next to him.

"Where's Hale?" Stiles asked and Allison looked off to her left, Stiles following her gaze. He was able to make out the back of Derek Hale, standing stiffly between a couple trees a little ways off, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Lydia stood in front of him, her gestures tight and her lips thinned as she talked to him, argued with him. Derek shook his head and returned fire, his own movements barely containing the anger and violence in him. Stiles turned back to Allison, his frown deepening. "Who was it?" he whispered, suddenly fearful of the answer. Allison took a deep breath before she replied.

"It's Laura, Stiles. Laura Hale." Stiles' eyes widened and he turned back to look at Derek, at the defeated slope of his shoulders, the tense hold of his arms and hands. Last he had heard Laura was married and living happily with her husband of five years and two year old daughter, Cora after her deceased younger sister, in New York. He remembered the cheery, ridiculous Christmas cards and care packaged full of baked goods and tourist trinkets from the Big Apple sent to both Derek and his father. He remembered her loud laugh over the phone, the teasing of his crush on her baby brother and to Derek's person, and the promises she would pull from the surly head detective to get out, have fun, and actually visit her once in a while.

Stiles couldn't help the sting that welled up in his eyes, the sharp intake of breath, before he clamped down on his want to rend and cry and panic at the loss. He was no good to anyone like that. Scott sniffled next to him and Allison finally allowed him to pull her into a hug. Stiles turned his gaze once more to the body of Laura Hale, finally placing the dark hair fanned out, her face turned away, the bruising that ringed her delicate wrists, and the blood that stood out dark against her pale flesh, and vowed to catch her killer no matter the cost.

Stiles and Scott were officially called onto the case about twenty minutes later, after the Sheriff had dismissed the Head Detective and called his partner over to ensure his straight return to the BHPD. Stiles had only ever seen Lydia Martin look frazzled once and that had been back in high school when her lab partner had accidently gotten sick all over her. Her hair was still perfectly in place, face made up to perfection, and her professional attire still pressed neatly without a wrinkle making her a stunning contrast to the wild surrounding her. However Stiles could tell by the pinch in her brow, the purse of her lips, and the stilted way she moved that Lydia Martin was shaken by the display in front of her.

She gripped Stiles' arm tightly and pulled him off to the side. "I'm sure I don't need to tell you how important this case is, Mr. Stilinski," she grit out, her eyes still raking over the lifeless body near them. Stiles shook his head. "Good. We need to catch whoever this us and fast. I won't be able to contain Hale for long and while I understand his motivation he could end up doing more harm than good." Stiles nodded and Lydia heaved a hitched sigh, her own eyes tearing up just slightly. "This is one of our own, Stiles. Even if she wasn't a cop she was one of ours. It shouldn't have happened."

"I'll get them Lyds, I promise." Lydia nodded sharply once, shook her head and took a deep breath.

"Good. Get it done, Stilinski." She tromped off; a couple of uniformed cops trailing behind her. Scott and Stiles had stayed on the scene, Stiles looking over everything and not finding much. Laura's body was cold pale and while minimal scavenging had been done to her remains it was still obvious that she had been out in the preserve for hours, leaving the scene open to contamination from any wild animal that happened upon her. He was thankful she was clothed, that besides the bruising on her wrists the only other damage done to her had been the knife wound at her throat which had most likely been the cause of her death. She'd been left on her side, blood pooling onto the leaves beneath her and clotting into her dark hair, her hazel eyes open and empty.

There was no evidence of drag which and her attire was casual meaning she probably had met her attacker at the sight. He wondered if she knew her attacker, wondered what she had been doing back in Beacon Hills, wondered if Derek had known. They left the scene soon after they bagged her up, piling the bloodied leaves into evidence bags, techs toting heavy cases behind the procession of cops that carried her away. Stiles watched and wondered if perhaps she had come from Hale house after all.

Scott went back to work soon after, hugging Stiles tight and telling him he'd meet up at the Psych office later to go over theories and maybe probe Stiles' mind for clues that he perhaps had overlooked in the contained chaos after Lydia's departure. He climbed into his jeep and pressed his forehead against the steering wheel, pulling out his cell and pressing his speed dial. The call connected a minute later and Stiles let out a shaky breath at the sound of his father. "What is it, kiddo?" Stiles could hear the crinkling of a bag, most likely chips, and the low murmur of the television in the background.

"They found a body this morning in the woods," Stiles began softly and he could tell that his father was already sitting tense and alert due to the slight hitch in his throat over the phone.

"I heard. They identify it?" Stiles nodded though he knew his father couldn't see it and pinched the bridge of his nose as he took a deep breath. "Who was it Stiles?"

"It-" his breath hitched and he exhaled harshly, squeezing his eyes shut. "It was Laura, Dad. Laura Hale." His father cursed over the line, sighing deeply on his end as Stiles pressed his forehead against the leather of the steering wheel once more.

"Derek?"

"Don't know. I haven't talked to him, Lydia made him leave the crime scene pretty soon after Scott and I got there. She's already taken him off the case." His dad grunted over the line and Stiles leaned back into his seat before clipping his seat belt in and starting up his jeep.

"Good. I know he'll hate it but it's better that he's out now. Him being involved would only serve to contaminate any evidence collected against the perp. No judge would accept evidence from him. It would throw the entire case in jeopardy." Stiles huffed in agreement as he slowly backed out of his space and turned onto the street.

"That's basically what Lydia said."

"She may be very young for her position but she's smart. I've always said that." Stiles gave a soft laugh. "She already bring you on?"

"Yeah. I get the feeling this is an all hands on deck kind of deal."

"Good," his father said roughly and Stiles wondered that if it had been somebody else, somebody they hadn't known and come to call their own if his father would be so adamant about him taking on the case considering his dislike for Stiles' need to pretend. "You get them son, you get her justice." Stiles choked back another breath, not willing to call it a sob though his throat tightened and his eyes stung. He exhaled harshly through his nose and turned into the parking lot outside the small strip mall where his and Scott's detective agency was located.

"Yeah Dad, I'll get 'em." He heard his father nod in reply and he sat silently in his jeep for a moment, listening to his dad breath and knowing he'd never hear Laura do it again. His father sighed softly and Stiles wished for a moment he was at his childhood home just so he could have his dad's arms around him and burry his head in his dad's shoulder for just a little while, to get that comfort that always made him feel better even during the worst of times.

"Love ya, kiddo. Come home when you can."

"Love you too, Dad." Stiles whispered, ending the call shortly after. He pressed his palms to his eyes and rubbed away any moisture that lingered before getting out of his jeep and heading into the Psych office. He could mourn after he caught the murderer.

He shouldn't have been surprised to find Derek Hale already waiting for him, standing in the middle of the main room with his arms crossed over his chest, his suit jacket discarded, the first few buttons of his collared button down undone, tie missing, and gun holster with gun tucked and snapped inside proudly on display. His face was hard, hazel-green eyes tinged slightly red, and lips pulled downward into a frown. He stepped forward into Stiles' space immediately, crowding close and glaring harshly. "I don't like you." Stiles stepped back only to have Derek advance again.

"You didn't have to come all the way out here to tell me that. How did you get in here anyway? You know breaking and entering is still against the law, even for head detectives?" Stiles tried to joke and failed as the frown and crease between Hale's eyebrows deepened. Derek's nostrils flared and his lips pursed as he continued to glare down at Stiles even though he stood only an inch or two taller.

"I don't like you and I think you being a psychic is absolute bullshit. You're a liar and a cheat and I don't know how you've managed to fool everyone or how you managed to get your dad, the fucking ex-sheriff, to play along-" he paused and Stiles bit his lip to keep from retaliating like he usually would have. "But you're good. I know you're good. I freaking watched you grow up so I know you can catch this bastard, whoever it is." Stiles nodded softly and Derek huffed, taking a step back while he gave a harsh singular nod of his head. Stiles reached out from him, fingertips grazing over the skin of Derek's arm before the other man stepped further away, shaking his head. "Just find them Stiles." He pressed a key to Stiles' chest and stalked out, hands folded tightly into fists once more.

The slam of the front door made Stiles jump and he looked down at the key Derek had given him, a spare key to the front door that Derek had no doubt made back when Stiles first took on the lease. He gave a soft smile, rubbing the warm metal between his fingers before he slipped it into his pocket and made his way to his desk. It would be a little while until Scott got off from his other job and joined him so Stiles cleared his desk, rolling out a sheet of blank paper before biting off the cap of a marker and recreating a map of the preserve. He marked off the entrances, important landmarks such as the old Hale house, and the crime scene. He sat and starred, his eyes roaming over the map as he tried to think of something, anything to give him a lead. He had a case to solve, a murderer to catch, and a friend to put to rest.

He fisted his hand in his pocket, fingers pressed against the metal of the spare key once more and thought of the red tinge to Derek Hale's eyes. There was work to be done.

A/N: Hope you all enjoyed the first chapter and my first foray into the world of Teen Wolf. Why I decided my first go at it would be a Psych fusion I'm not sure other than that Stiles and Derek really seem to fit into the roles of Shawn Spencer and Carlton Lassiter. I ended up trying to keep to really fuse the two worlds together, to take Teen Wolfs dark edge and merge it into the world of Psych. We'll see how it goes. Feedback is greatly welcomed.

As of now I plan on updating this fic every other Sunday (despite today being a Wednesday - I teach high school and today was a snow day) but hopefully as the story progresses and I get back into the habit of writing and work at the same time I'll be able to close the gap to once a week updates. :) Hope to have you all back for the next chapter on 2/2/14!