Inked Emissary

Chapter 14: An Old Home

  It had gotten to a point where they had just had to count on Deaton for help, for him to stand in as their emissary.
  There was just too many creatures and no one knew why they were actually arriving. Scott had a new, young member in his Pack now, Liam. He was constantly the cause of many sleepless nights, he was young, only a few years younger than him but still, had only just learnt control of his wolf and still had problems when it came to his anger. Plus he had years of supernatural experience on them and even he was struggling to cope as a true alpha. Then there was Kira, Scott had fallen hard for her and he didn't think that he could bare seeing her get hurt. And the rest of the Pack in general. Bar Peter maybe. He could look after himself anyway.

  Now though, Deaton had gotten in contact with a Pack in Greenwood. Their old emissary was meant to be wise and very learned in supernatural law, the new one... He was meant to be some kind of rare and powerful creature, humanoid but with powers. This emissary  had been tutored by the old one, said emissary having thought him capable enough to take over his role. It all boded well.

***

  They were all sat in Derek's loft. Lydia, Kira, Isaac, Derek, Peter, Liam, Chris, himself and Deaton. At that moment the lack of Stiles was so clear, so evident to Scott and again the guilt filled him, he had never really appreciated what he had with his best friend util it was gone. They sure could use that brain and creative thinking now.

  "The Bordens will be here sometime tomorrow, or so their emissary said," Deaton told the Pack. 

  "What is this emissary's name?" Isaac asked without much curiosity.

  "I don't know. No one does really. Don't know the name of the last one really. You see, when conversing with strange Packs, the emissary being a strange one, we are just known as the Pack's emissary. For instance I am "the McCall Emissary" and they are "the Borden emissary's"," Deaton calmly explained.

  "Okay but which one is actually the emissary?" Kira asked, leaning forward in her seat.

  "The younger one. The previous emissary is still part of the Pack, a human influence- much like Stiles was in this Pack. Though more respected I dare say," Deaton said, staring pointedly at Isaac who lifted his hands in mock surrender.

  "I thought that a Pack only got a new emissary if something really bad happened or the emissary got too old," Lydia put in.

  "It is said that this emissary stepped down because he believed this emissary to be more capable. He, or she, is said to be a lot younger but possesses both powerful supernatural abilities and wisdom beyond their years. Packs across America, and perhaps the world, know this individual as the Inked Emissary on account of the tattoos that are meant to span his skin, aiding his powers," Deaton explained.

  "A good one to have on board then," Peter commented.

  "I have to agree with him for once. What do you think Scott?" Chris said begrudgingly.

  "I'd be pretty stupid to be against this. We might stand a chance with this problem, another Pack itself will be useful. The Borden's are supposed to be one of the biggest Packs in America," Scott told the rest, watching out of the corner of his eye as Deaton nodded.

***

  They were once more gathered in Derek's loft, the mismatched Pack of wolves, kitsune, banshee and humans, the Sheriff having come along for the meeting. Peter was perched on the stairs away from the rest, Isaac lounging on the sofa and the rest standing or pacing. Lydia was leaning against a pillar staring into space, Liam was standing off to one side, tension clear in every line of his body and Derek was leaning against the table, arms folded and glower firmly in place. Kira and Scott were leaning against a pillar of their own, Scott's arm wrapped around the other who was lost in her own thoughts, not unlike the banshee. Deaton stood by the window looking down, calmly waiting while Chris crouched on the other side of the room by the huge doors polishing his gun. The Sheriff just sat on on of the dinning chairs looking lost. There had been something up with him ever since Deaton had said that the Pack would be coming from Greenwood, Scott just didn't know what.

  Tension. Everyone in the room bar Peter and Deaton were showing the tension. Isaac was good at hiding it, something that came with his particular upbringing, but Scott knew him well enough now to know the signs. He would be a terrible alpha otherwise. Deaton was always calm and collected, cool on the outside but allowing no insight into what went on beneath the surface. Peter just didn't give a crap about anyone other than himself.

  Along with the tension came silence. No one spoke for a full half hour, maybe more, as they waited. It was as if a veil had been put over the room, freezing all life, making it dormant. The next sound came from Deaton who had been standing watchfully all of that time.

  "They are here, I shall go down and greet them," he said calmly before turning and striding purposefully across the room. He grabbed the handles of the door and pulled them apart, moving through them and with a rumbling clank, closing them behind him.

***

  Derek was pacing up and down not a minute after the vet had left the room. Every single gaze was focused on him as they waited for the Pack that would hopefully save them.

  It was maybe five minutes, maybe ten before the door reopened. Through it came Deaton and a middle aged man in a leather jacket. Despite the seriousness of the situation, his face held a brightness, a jovial quality that was born of years of positive attitude. In short it was the kind of face that made you instantly like the person. The scar though. It was long, from his hairline to his mouth, disfiguring the whole thing but in a way that made the goodness even more noticeable. Scott felt a weight lift off of his shoulders in a moment.

  After the man, who he assumed to be the alpha, came about twenty people, more wolves in one place than Scott had ever seen. Towards the back there was something that made the whole McCall Pack stare open mouthed. There trotted a grey wolf with strikingly familiar eyes. Four people entered alongside this wolf, a young blond male and a woman around his age with long brown hair. Beside them was two very familiar faces. Those faces belonged to Malia and Stiles. Stiles had returned to Beacon Hills.

   Stiles looked up nervously and locked eyes with Scott. It seemed that as soon as that contact was made the returning friend relaxed. The Beacon Hills alpha gave his old friend a look over, Stiles looked older, a lot older than three years should give but he was... he looked healthier. There was no bags beneath his eyes, the pinch to his features that had been there before had gone but his eyes... they held something new. They and the way Stiles held himself gave away immediately to Scott that this wasn't the same person that had disappeared all those years ago.