2015.08.27 - Sort of a War Council or Something

**Emitter:** Staff

*Our heroes make preparations for an assault on The Nemeton.*

August 27, 2015

Beacon Hills Wildlife Preserve

There's been something going on in Beacon Hills. Maybe it doesn't have to deal directly with the Nemeton, but Kay's been sensitive to something funky ever since she got here. It could just be the recently-invigorated mystic energies, but she expects it's more than that. Something... darker. She grants that could also just be her healthy paranoia, but her family's known as survivors for a reason. That said, Kay's kitted out--this is not just a gentle stroll in the woods. She's wearing hunter's camouflage, complete with body paint over her exposed skin, and supple, flexible hiking boots. The woman is practically invisible to the naked eye in the low light, and she even smells of detritus and pine, having done much to mask her scent. A rifle is slung over her shoulder, glass flasks attached to a bandolier, a machete hung from her hip and... she's wearing some kind of thick gloves. Crouching slowly in the underbrush in full-on Ranger Mode, she creeps closer and closer to the Nemeton encampment, perhaps even closer to a certain pair of strolling men.

Derek had thought that a walk in the woods would be something more soothing and relaxing than it is, but so many different contrasting scents and a lot of bad feelings have ruined the possibility of actually unwinding effectively. There's something that bothers him, something particularly putting his hackles on edge, and he reaches out to pull Stiles aside, brow lowered. It's too familiar a feeling, especially with his newly-reblossoming spark.

"Finally." A sort of rough-edged voice, a familiar one, rings out from fairly near where Kay is settled in, and clear enough for Derek and Stiles to hear, though it is doubtful to carry to the camp. But he's taken the precaution, after all. "You're hard people to find, and I couldn't take the risk of using a phone or text messages. And you," he addresses Kay, "I don't know about. But I'm going to assume you're ultimately after the same goal that I am." And which he hopes Stiles, Derek, and the rest of the Beacon Hills pack would be. He sounds more...regal. More sure of himself now. Of course, his aura is massive, like a tempest bursting through the trees, and he was just suddenly there.

"Wha?" Stiles asks as Derek pulls him aside, glancing up and down at him in confusion. "What hell, Dere--?" But then suddenly Lance is there, and Stiles blinks in surprise. "What do you mean we're hard to find? You could have just te--oh." He frowns a bit, then, and folds his arms across his chest. "Okay, what the crap is going on? Why's everyone acting weird? Lance... what're you even doing?" Lately, Stiles has decided he just plain doesn't like surprises.

Speaking of people who don't like surprises (unless they're surprise birthdays!), Kay draws her machete in a quiet, quick flash of movement the moment... whoever that is points out her position. She swears he wasn't there just a moment before, but doesn't get lost in the pragmatics of how he Did get there. With her cover blown, Kay immediately goes into Defensive Mode, ready to dodge and strike... for a blow that never comes. That's when she picks up that Mystery Dude is also chatting at other folks and... wait, is that Stiles? "... Stiles?" Kay says, finally melding out of the bushes and underbrush like some aboriginal amazon, sheathing her machete as she goes. She found something... genuine in Stiles, based on their previous interaction. Enough to trust that his company won't attack her at a moment's notice. "Who *are* you people?"

Derek insinuates himself between this woman and Stiles. He's not about to count on his regular human sturdiness to carry him through a machete blow, just in case. "Who are *you*?!" Derek growls, and his eyes gleam dangerously. He hasn't shifted yet -- not entirely -- but it would seem that he now has the ability to take on some certain elements even in his neutral form. He knows who Lance is; that scent is unmistakable.

And Lance emerges from the woods, moving with the kind of purpose that really seems more a Derek thing. But he's every bit as alpha -- in his own way -- as Derek has become in the last few days. Stiles will detect a kind of...different quality about him, though. Not bad, just slightly less intense than his usual, familiar feeling, with the link they share. "This isn't the best place to talk, but I need to make this quick. I managed to possess one of the idiot squad crowding the Nemeton, and it doesn't look good. I've been distracting them by adding diuretics to their water supply, but that's only going to get us so much time. I'm asking you," he looks to Kay, then to Derek and Stiles, "and the pack around here -- *asking* you -- to please stop them. Because if someone else doesn't and I have to? It's going to be *very unpleasant*." His eyes settle on Stiles, and there's a sort of apology in them...but it's clear he'll do what he has to, if it comes to that. And Stiles knows what that is. He's seen a fraction of what Lance is capable of, in the video store.

Stiles looks to Kay, and he's surprised. "Kay? What the--?" Then Derek's stepping between them, and Lance appears, and things seem so serious, so grave. So vaguely yet decidedly threatening. Stiles steps forward, raising both hands, palms out. He gives a slow, sharp whistle through his lips and says, "Okay, that's *it*. Hold up! Time out. First!" He points at Kay. "What's with the GI Barbie look? And don't tell me you're hunting deer!" He turns to Derek, lightly patting his shoulder. "Keep it together, big guy," he mutters, and then he rounds on Lance. "Kay," he says, "This is Lance and Derek'. They're my... uh." He falters, shaking his head. "They're my *it's complicated*. Lance... what the hell's going on? *What* do we need to stop?" And while he doesn't explain anything about the *pack* out loud, there's something in his expression, perhaps echoed in their link, that emphasizes what a rotten time this is for that request.

Swiftly, Kay lifts her gloved hands in front of her face in a defensive stance, fingers slightly spaced apart--much like a werewolf might, what with the claws and all. It suggests the gloves may be much more than gloves. Derek can alpha-growl all he likes, because Kay growls right back. It's not the low, baritone tremble of a werewolf, but it gets the 'don't fuck with me' message across just the same. "I know what *he* is," Kay says, lifting her chin to indicate Derek. "Wolf. And if my local history's up to snuff, probably one of the remaining Hales. Couldn't tell you which one, though." Concerning Lance, she glances briefly in his direction. "Dunno what you are. But possession? Spirit? Demon?" She shrugs, slowly lowering her hands as a gesture of good faith, for Stiles' sake. Besides, dude seems to have the same ideas she does about the jerks squatting on the Nemeton. "Name's Kay Castillo," she says, flexing her hands as she allows them to hang by her sides. "Of the Redwood Druid Circle." She allows that to sink for a moment before turning to give Lance a more decidedly apparent once-over. "You can probably guess why I'm here. But to be blunt--I'm here about the Nemeton. If your goal is to get those assholes to stop squatting on it, then I don't care what you are. I'll help." At least she doesn't have any Obvious distaste for other Supernaturals.

Derek at first keeps bristling, especially when this stranger reacts defensively...but he's not such a bad leader after all. When she stands down, he does too, and his eyes no longer gleam the way they were. He listens to them, what Kay, Stiles, and Lance all have to say, keeping silent, folding his arms over his chest as he does in his resting position. It's a stance of authority, but also right now it's one of acceptance. Tentative, but still there.

"Pack of buddies?" Lance clarifies, pursing his lips, though he's pretty sure Derek's certain traits have let the wolf out of the bag. And then it's clear, and he shrugs and holds his hands up before him. "You're good, Kay. I'm Lance, I would be happy to take you bowling sometime when things aren't so terrible. But look." Since Kay seems to have the situation down, he's explaining more to Stiles and Derek than her. If she's a Druid, she'll definitely know that this is bad business going down at the camp. "There are people at the Nemeton. It's not a coincidence they're there, and they're not after anything innocuous. This is the whole reason I *came* here, Stiles. From what I've learned, if they manage to get much further in their study? It's over. Like...not even talking about anything small. I'm talking about *everything*. It's *all going to burn down*." He takes in a deep breath and sighs as he looks around to the three in front of him. "You asked what the *hell* is going on. I'm saying you really couldn't have chosen better phrasing. The hell. That's what's going on. And if someone else can't stop it, I'm going to. After that, nobody's gonna want to come within fifty *miles* of the thing. But you guys," he motions with one hand, sweeping before him, "can probably do a lot better. You're like, a surgical precision save the patient thing. I'm a wrecking ball."

Stiles takes all this in with ever-widening eyes. Kay, apparently hip to the supernatural--a hunter? No, it comes out. A druid. And it sounds like she's the good kind. He's visibly relieved at that... but then, as he takes in Lance's warning, Stiles' hands shoot up again, once more spread to his sides, "Wait, you mean that freakin' *armored caravan* that blew into town this week? The ones who have *my dad and the sheriff's department* covering their asses? How in the hell are we even supposed to get in there? *Our team* is down several key players right now, we don't have a plan, we don't have the manpower--*we* might be *it*. So what the hell are we supposed to do *to stop The Hell* from happening!?" Nope, he's not taking this very well. Now is basically the worst time ever.

There's another glance shot Derek's way. It's not furtive, or even frightened. If anything it's... oddly appreciative? Respectful? Wolves she gets. Supernatural they might be, but they frolic in the natural world that is her garden, and so she tries to tend to them as she might any wild creature. Tries. Demon on the other hand. Well. As long as he's not messing with her stuff, she doesn't appear to have any big beef. Once both Lance and Stiles are finished, Kay tries to clarify a little but adding the small of might insight she has. "There's been some disturbances in San Francisco lately, and if the rumors are true, elsewhere as well. The Nemeton is a natural target with its recently-awakened magic." She fixes her gaze upon Stiles, gently shaking her head. "Hey, I don't have any plans on hurting anyone I don't have to. But yes. I've already scouted around some, and they've got the area pretty well cordoned off. I could attempt to snoop around, but I didn't want to rouse the hornet's nest just yet." Finally, Kay allows her posture to her relax into something slightly less battle-ready. "Calm down, Stiles. We'll figure it out. There's enough decent people in this town and the surrounded area, we can probably cobble together a strike team strong enough to scare them off."

Derek steps up, finally, reaching over to rest his hand atop Stiles's head. It's a very *wolfen* gesture. Protective, soothing, and also "my turn to talk". It's his way of doing things. And, in his mind, should be comforting to those who don't feel driven to lead the pack...whatever that pack may consist of. Kay's commitment draws a resolved nod from the once-and-again alpha, shoulders rising and falling steadily, the movement showing his statuesque musculature underneath thin, dark blue cloth. "Whatever I can do. It won't just be us."

Lance shakes his head softly, motioning with his hands in a calming gesture. It seems like he and Derek both have a priority in Stiles being less stressed, but at the moment everything's approaching the proverbial fan at a terrible speed. "They think they've covered the bases," he explains. "Gone through the human legal channels to get a bunch of free security. Got the permits, which -- yes, we *do* have a lot of lawyers and bureaucrats, so it's moving, but the human legal system is slow. They've been working on this for months or longer. I don't know if we can get an injunction before it's too late." He nods to Kay's input; she must have been casing the place as in-depth as he has been.

Lance starts counting off using his fingers. "They've got precautions. Wards. Against angels and demons. They *know* some things. That's why I've had to be so subtle. But I've managed to disrupt most of at least their demonic defenses. If necessary, I can go in there before they realize they're defenseless. But I don't particularly *want* to have to do that. But Druids? They can't protect against Druids when the Nemeton is like...it's your *thing*." He motions to Kay. "I don't know Druidic magic. Maybe you could strike from the inside. Something. They also don't have much that's gonna hold against...you." Then a gesture to Derek. "The researchers aren't able to put things together yet. But we've got to destroy the data, and we've got to make sure they *don't* make those conclusions. If they do, they...can't be allowed to report back." Now he settles his eyes on Stiles. "But I'm pretty sure you can do your computer magic and make sure that's taken care of. So I don't have to do...anything you might be upset about me doing." Knight of Hell or not, it would appear that Lance's highest priority other than the Nemeton and, you know, preventing the end of the world, is not upsetting Stiles. Aww.

Stiles falls silent and stops pacing and*or flailing around with what may be surprising speed, just as soon as Derek's hand touches his head like that. It's almost like he's been trained by the big, calculatedly scruffy werewolf. He does fold his arms across his chest, though, and listens carefully to Kay's and Lance's information. After a long moment, he exhales a long, slow sigh, and one can almost* hear *his brain crunching the numbers.*

"What we need," he muses, "is a diversion. We need to pull back their defenses so we can get in without having to fight.. or Lance's right. This place'll be a freakin' blood bath." He's still agitated, still tense, but now he's visibly engaging the problem instead of freaking out. His eyes dart between the other three, eventually resting on Lance. "Can... can you distract them and draw them off... without putting yourself at risk or... having to kill anybody?"

Just then, sharp senses will detect the crunch of leaves under booted feet, far closer than may be entirely comfortable. *Something* approaches, or--as senses will reveal swiftly enough--someone. Human, female, young, healthy, wearing natural fibers and carrying gently scented herbs--yet tinged with something *else*, something that feels ancient, powerful. Magic. Druic magic, perhaps, though most assuredly an unusual strain of it, if so. As the figure comes into view, cloaked in rough cloth of a drab color. A flash of coppery hair frames a face that is lovely, classically so, yet smudged with dirt as though she had been in the woods a long time. Her eyes are light, if shaded, perhaps a warm amber brown in color. When she speaks, her voice comes out like the rough purr of a large cat... only not quite. There's something of the she-fox in this woman, too.

"So the heroes gather after all," she says, her voice almost languid, calm. "We had feared losing this site completely."

Just then, sharp senses will detect the crunch of leaves under booted feet, far closer than may be entirely comfortable. *Something* approaches, or--as senses will reveal swiftly enough--someone. Human, female, young, healthy, wearing natural fibers and carrying gently scented herbs--yet tinged with something *else*, something that feels ancient, powerful. Magic. Druic magic, perhaps, though most assuredly an unusual strain of it, if so. As the figure comes into view, cloaked in rough cloth of a drab color. A flash of coppery hair frames a face that is lovely, classically so, yet smudged with dirt as though she had been in the woods a long time. Her eyes are light, if shaded, perhaps a warm amber brown in color. When she speaks, her voice comes out like the rough purr of a large cat... only not quite. There's something of the she-fox in this woman, too.

"So the heroes gather after all," she says, her voice almost languid, calm. "We had feared losing this site completely."

Kay actually raises her hand. "Um. I can create an unholy commotion if you want me to." She pauses, glances at Lance, and then scrunches up a little in that shy-embarrassed way Stiles is more accustomed to seeing in her. "Oh, sorry. No pun intended." Anyways. "It would be easy enough to take an animal form and slip inside the camp," she walks two fingers through the air. "Lead them away. I can even set a few traps, break some of their equipment, toss a little fire around." She shrugs. "None of that comes without risk, but--" Her senses aren't as attuned as say Derek's, they're plenty refined. She turns suddenly at the noise, hands back up in a defensive posture, promptly ready to dodge-and-strike again. The shy girl is gone--this is warrior-Kay again. Her eyes scan the other woman quickly. She can detect the signature of kindred magic, though remains suspicious as to its oddity. Paranoia being a survival trait and all. Instead of playing boogey with the bush, she cuts right to the point: "Who are you and what do you want?"

Derek turns his head like a whipcrack to the woman approaching. He's not entirely comfortable with her yet -- he doesn't know her, after all, and he doesn't exactly have a great history with the Nemeton and its related personnel -- but he'll give her the benefit of the doubt since, like everyone else here, this newcomer seems to have the same goal in mind. But since time is apparently of the essence, he listens to Stiles and Kay both, taking in the information and running it through his mind.

"That's a good idea, Stiles." Derek's statement is a little softer than usual, but still strong, still pointed in a way, with the purpose that he always instills in his words. He doesn't speak unless he has to, so when he does speak, it means something. Always. And when others, like Kay, can take care of asking the questions he would've asked anyway, it helps him to keep his strong, silent look.

Lance senses the woman -- there's no hiding that presence for long, but the same is true of him -- and so he faces her as she approaches. But he, like Derek, seems to take her at face value. He can't detect anything that would seem to indicate otherwise, and they simply do not have time to quibble and pick fights. The woman is offered a polite, soft, and brief smile before he turns back to look toward Stiles. "It's going to be a risk," he answers. But when Kay speaks up, he has to nod softly to what she says. "It'll be less of a risk for her. Especially if she can do anything about the Nemeton to keep it out of their hands." His eyes keep turning back to the newcomer. He's not sure about her, but...he doesn't really feel like she's a threat, for whatever reason. She's not outwardly hostile, and at the moment he's fairly resolved that they need all the help they can get to stop the danger. They can address anything else after this group is gone from Beacon Hills.

"Risk to you, or risk to them?" Stiles asks Lance. Clearly, that's an important consideration for him. He smiles a bit at Derek's supportive comment, and he almost seems to be relaxing just a little... when a new person, some crazy druid-looking woman in a *cloak*, shows up. And Stiles is wound tight enough to snap all over again.

"Oh, great," he grouses. "The ren. faire's in town. I'd rather deal with Deaton and his annoying half-answers than *this*." But his voice is quiet, at least. He's grumbling rather than shouting his frustration, and for him, that's *something* at least.

The woman raises her hands, which are concealed by slim-fit gloves, probably expertly hand-crafted, from something that looks like finely woven hemp. "Like it or not," she declares crisply, "we are allies, now, against a common foe. Protecting the Nemeton is all that matters." Crisp, yet still husky, earthy. She *sounds* just like one would expect one to sound, as though she sought to speak from the lips of Mother Nature herself.

"They *cannot* be permitted to channel the power they have amassed through its remains and into the ritual they have prepared. Whatever the greater consequences, it would also most assuredly destroy what is left of the Nemeton. I have sworn on my life to prevent that from happening. This site is *sacred*."

She regards each in turn--perhaps less so Stiles, since he's doing more grumbling than actually offering of help--and remarks, "Knight, bishop, king, and pawn. You are all of value in this gambit. The question is, which other pieces will arrive on the board, and who will disrupt their plans to allow Nature to return to balance?"

That's a satisfactory enough answer for Kay to drop her hands. Between the sound of her voice, even the smell, there's a familiarity there Kay-the-druid can't deny. "Are you part of a circle?" she wonders aloud, not really expecting a straight answer even as she does, that being one part of druid culture she's never bought into--the evasive, fortune cookie rejoinders. "In any event, I agree," Kay says, drawing something like a sigil in the air, and then closing her eyes. She had dropped a few anchor-stones around the perimeter of the campsite, and momentarily divines through them. "I also came here to protect the Nemeton at all costs." And then she concentrates, holding up a finger. "Nothing appears to have changed," she adds, opening her eyes again. "So if you all give me some time, I can prep something--all of what I said. I'm still new here, so Stiles? Can you gather whoever you think will be good for this, and meet me again tomorrow?" She glances to Derek as well, then Lance, awaiting their input.

Keen eyes drift between the assembled group. Derek keeps his notice at its highest, and one hand remains on Stiles's head. He also stays right next to him, and slightly in front of him, between him and any potential threats. Except Lance, of course. He knows Lance won't do anything, or at least he can be reasonably certain. He just breathes deeply, listening to all of the input that the others have. Stiles knows that he, of all people, is committed to making sure nothing comes of this attempt to use the Nemeton. He lost too much last time.

"Both, actually," Lance answers Stiles, honest though with a kind of gentleness that he tries to apply for the boy's benefit. "Hm. I don't know, nature girl -- Stiles is definitely more of a Queen." He lets that sit for a moment, and then he looks more like the kind of awkward usual Lance, gesturing with his hands as he explains. "I mean in the chess sense," he hurriedly clarifies. "Like, people underestimate him, but in his own way, he's the most flexible and versatile piece on the board." Which means that when Kay asks him, Lance turns to him to await the verdict too. He's okay with this. Stiles can organize better than anyone he knows.

Stiles gives the maybe-a-druid lady a mildly sour look, but between Kay's confident assessment, Derek's reassuring presence, and Lance... showing signs of the Lance that Stiles knows and loves... he manages to keep a good humor. Reaching out to gently lay his hand on Lance's shoulder, he murmurs softly, "Then please stay out of it. Let us try first. If we fail... then do what you have to. But I don't want anyone killed, not if we can help it. And I *don't* want you hurt." He draws a deep breath in, slow through his nose, and then nods decisively.

"Kay's plan is good. If she can keep them guessing, draw off the guard... then we should be able to get in there and remove *some* key elements of the ritual." He turns, twisting his head under Derek's palm, to look upon the big werewolf. "This kind of magic might need an alpha," he remarks quietly. They both know what Scott's status is, so it's very clear exactly who he means.

There are a few moments of silence as the woman takes in these answers. Then she answers Kay with an even nod. "I am part of a circle... not the circle that belongs to this place, but one that remembers its power and legacy... and has sworn to see it preserved. If you can disrupt the ritual, then my circle will be able to safely shut down their magic. But we cannot touch them until their magic Circle is broken. That must happen at all costs: The Circle *must* be broken. Else, we risk all repeating, at a less perfect but still functional site." When Stiles speaks of an alpha, she actually gives him a look of--well, not respect, but less disdainful notice. "It is true," she concedes, "that the power of an alpha werewolf may be... useful... in completing the task."

Well that was a lot more information than Kay expected to get, so she rolls with it. "Works for me," she says to Mystery Lady with a single-shouldered shrug. Then, to the boys, she pulls out a flask filled with a green liquid, and tosses it once. "So that's the plan, then. I'll try to set up some traps and prep a few diversions for tomorrow." She catches said flask. Once you've got a group together, Stiles, we can rendezvous here and get this party started." She holds up the flask. "I can cause a lot of damage with these, though. So I'll do my best to keep it limited to their equipment, but if you have someone or someones that can tend to the wounded, I'd put them on standby just in case." She actually eyes the flask for a moment, and then tentatively moves to hand it Stiles. "I can make a few extras if you want to have some artillery, yourself." Clearly, she doesn't want Stiles to feel left out. She even manages that sweet-shy smile of hers. Then, to Derek: "Which Hale are you? I don't want to have to keep calling you Grumpywolf or Frownyface McTaciturn."

Derek looks into Stiles's eyes. He's already started to come to terms with his recent...chrysalis and emergence? Whatever it is, it doesn't entirely feel complete, but it's definitely given him back his mojo, and then some. There is a clear, unspoken message between them. Yes, Stiles can rely on him for anything he needs in this upcoming battle. He even has a few ideas of his own.

When Kay addresses him, Derek curtly snaps, "Sourw--" But he stops himself and instantly turns his head to look at her. He can't look at Stiles after that, for a little while at least. "Derek. Derek Hale."

Lance regards the nature-woman carefully, but he seems just as willing as before to work with her, at least for the moment. He's a little suspicious about the last statement, but...it'll have to wait. He'll do his best to make sure that Stiles, Derek, and the rest of their friends are protected, no matter what he has to do or who has to suffer for it.

But really Lance doesn't want to make anybody suffer if it'll upset Stiles. He looks over to the two of them as Derek answers so amusingly, and he has to hide a little chuckle by pretending to cough. "Uh, right. Tomorrow's a good time to do this. By next week, they'll have what they need to piece things together and then it'll be too late. I've only been able to do a little bit of sabotage here and there, but I can't risk getting found out or they'll ramp up the defenses. What I *can* do though, is I can step up my game as it gets closer to the time. Instead of diuretics...maybe laxatives? Or ipecac, that would work. It'll be unpleasant, but it'll keep them from being on top of their game and should stop anyone getting killed."

Stiles regards the flask warily, but then he shakes his head. In a reluctant tone, he says, "I... don't think I'm gonna be much help in the thick of it." From his expression and voice, admitting that feels about as good as biting off his own arm. "They're pretty heavily armed. I don't want everyone worrying about me getting blown away when they're going to need to be focused on stopping the bad guys. I'll try to help get things set, but..." he shrugs, trailing off, and sighs. Derek gets a furtively grateful glance, Lance a quietly apologetic one... but he doesn't add anything more, not yet.

"Then all is set," the woman agrees. "You may not see us until it is time... we are carefully hidden. But when the moment comes, we will appear. You have my Oath." Then, giving a nod that's nearly a small bow, she turns, wrapping her roughspun cloak around her, and turns to vanish into the woods, soundlessly. As she vanishes from view, not even werewolf senses will detect her. Clearly she's very good at what she does.

That, or this is just another reason to be paranoid.

Sourwolf? Kay doesn't press that for now, but she does smile. To Be Remembered. "Thanks, Derek." As for being paranoid, this is a given for Kay, who watches Lady Mystery merge with the darkness about as thrilled as a cat with a hose pointed at it. With a soft sigh, she retrieves the flask Stiles did not take, replaces it on her bandolier, and then says, a bit haltingly, "I understand, Stiles. But... You know? Why don't you talk to me after this is all over. If you're interested... I could probably teach you something?" She hardly knows the guy, but she's seen that expression before. The 'frustrated because I can't help' expression, and shy sympathizes. "Anyways, Mr. Spooky," that's Lance, "If you want, I can whip up something that'll be a bit more colorful than the runs. Allergies, head colds, sinus pressure, unpleasant rashes. Hell, you could probably mix whatever potion I make with the laxative if you wanted to be particularly cruel." It's something to think about, at least.

Derek watches until the woman is completely gone to his senses, then he nods to Kay with an acknowledgement of what she's said. The less about the nickname he almost blurted out, the better, probably. Of course, his hand never once leaves Stiles, and he remains protectively a little in front of him. "It's settled, then. I need to get busy." This directed at Stiles, but he does give Lance another look of acknowledged presence.

Lance, too, watches as the mysterious woman vanishes, and not just watches, but senses. It's a little eerie, more than a little actually, and he mentally reminds himself that he really should be sure to take some precautions. Just in case.

Kay's words get him going though, in the best way. He grins a bright grin, rubs his hands together, and nods eagerly. "That's *perfect*. I like the way you think. Let's set up a time, and I'll have my, uh, minion? I'll have him get out here and get the ball rolling. And Stiles..." He approaches, careful to regard Derek respectfully and holding out his hand for Stiles to take. "Remember, I'm always with you." Literally, which he knows Stiles remembers. "I will protect you if anything happens."

Stiles smiles a bit at Derek, reaching out to lightly pat his back, and then gives Kay a nod. "Sure, once this is over... I'm actually pretty curious about all this druid stuff. If you're druid-girl, then maybe you can be my tutor. Or something." He flashes a grin. "I always wanted a sexy tutor." Whether this was said for Kay's benefit, Lance's, Derek's, or some mixture of them all... isn't particularly clear. But he does reach out to take Lance's hand, squeezing it, and says, softly, "I know, Lance. But I don't want you worrying about protecting me when something this serious is going on. I just... I can't do anything to put you." He glances to Derek for a moment. "*Either* of you in danger."

It's a good thing Kay's wearing all that face-camo, because, 'did he just call me sexy?!' echoes in her head, and she blushes tremendously. "It's... a difficult path, Stiles. But I can at least unlock the door." Damnit, even she can't avoid the fortune cookie metaphors. At least she doesn't twirl her hair, and instead just gingerly scratches at her scalp while she looks away. "There's a large heart-shaped boulder not far from the north side of camp," she says to Lance. "I'll whip a few flasks together and leave them there for your... minion before tomorrow evening." And now, lest she get caught blushing, Kay waves once, and then slips back into the forest. "Back to scouting, then," she says, melting with the darkness in her own way, though not quite as Spectacularly as Green Lady.

Derek stays where he is, but he doesn't do anything to interrupt Lance and Stiles having their moment. He's not sure he understands the entire exchange, but of all people here, he's most familiar with Lance and they've shared enough vulnerable times together that he isn't suspicious of his motives. Especially since Stiles has him pretty much wound around a little finger, he is fairly sure. He does turn to Kay and gives her another nod. He likes her, so far. Maybe his gaze is one of assessment too, as she disappears into the underbrush. Although -- "Sexy?" He does turn and ask, once he's sure she's out of earshot.

Lance sighs and raises his eyebrows, widening his eyes and leaning closer to Stiles. "No, remember? I'm *always with you*. And that will *protect* you. You know?" He's trying not to say it in a way that will freak anyone out. "If you *need* it." He's hoping that Stiles catches on, but then he does turn his head to nod to Kay, just about at the same time Derek does. "Thanks! Glad to hear it. If Stiles trusts you, I trust you too." He turns to look at Derek, then at Stiles again, and squeezes the hand before letting it go. "I'm just...really glad to know you. Both of you. You've made a huge difference in my life, and that's for the better. I'd better get going," he steps back, turning slightly and then waving, looking to Stiles before he fully turns and starts off into the woods himself.

Stiles grins at Kay, watching her go, and then turns to Lance. Shaking his head a little, he says, "I *know*. But I'll feel better if you're not having to worry about me." He squeezes Lance's hand in return before he slips away, and then he sighs heavily, stepping up to slide an arm around Derek's waist and lean against him. After a moment, he chuckles just softly and says, "Yeah, sexy. What? She's cute! And it's not like you or Lance is in high school. Fantasizing about your hot tutor is a key part of the experience!" Then he turns serious again. "I know you're up to this, he says quietly, "But I wish Scott was here, too. This whole thing... it's freaking me out, Derek."

Now that it's just the two of them, Derek can let his guard down just a bit. He slides his hand down, arm around Stiles's shoulders, and he squeezes his shoulder gently. He feels like he's back in the groove of things. Stronger. More confident. A natural wolf. "I'm gonna handle it. And what Lance wouldn't say is that...Stiles." Leaning closer, he catches the smaller man's eyes with his own. Intense eyes. Gleaming eyes, full of energy and strength. "We are *going* to worry about you. And nothing you can say or do will stop us from doing everything we have to do to make sure you're safe."

Smiling crookedly, Stiles reaches up to rest his free hand on Derek's chest. "I know that... my big, strong Sourwolf." He pats Derek's chest, gently, and adds in a firm tone, "But that won't stop me from trying to give you *less* to worry about. I'm not gonna be stupid and put myself in serious danger just because I wanna be included. I'll find *better* ways to help. 'Cause I'm still part of the pack." He gets a thoughtful look, then amendss, "Packs."

Derek looked as if he might try to correct that, at first, but then Stiles does it for him. A soft smile comes over him, and he suddenly pulls Stiles to him, squeezing arms around him. "Take the protection, dumbass." It's all said so affectionately, which is more than most could. Maybe only Derek and Melissa. But he lets Stiles out of the embrace whenever he wants. No need to prolong it beyond comfort levels or awkwardness. "But yeah. You are."

These moments of comparative tenderness must fade, however, with all things in time, and soon Derek wears his more serious "alpha business" face. "I'm going to do this right. And..." he goes quiet for a second, before picking up again, "I'm getting Boyd and Erica."

Stiles laughs, and he gently headbutts Derek's chest. "I am! I'm just trying to be smart about it, okay? No sense being reckless and stupid just 'cause I'm protected." Then he slides both arms around Derek's waist and hugs him hard. "Beacon Hills is big enough for two packs. And you'll be, like... brother packs, anyway. Allies. Family." He can't resist looking up at Derek and flashing a grin, then. "Y'know, Erica used to have a *huge* crush on me," he says in a teasing tone.

"Right. Don't take unnecessary risks. But don't think we're gonna let them pick on you." Derek brushes his hand through Stiles's hair, looking at him and nodding once, to agree -- they'll be brother packs. They can work like this. This can work. It wasn't right before, it wasn't the right way to go about things. But now...

And then Stiles does it again. He does it *again*! Derek narrows his eyes. "What I want to know is, where did this attitude like nobody wanted you come from exactly? You *clearly* have all kinds of people throwing themselves at you."

That makes Stiles blush, and he shakes his head a little. "It was more that I *felt* like nobody wanted me... because nobody who I *wanted* to want me wanted me back." He snuggles close, resting his head against Derek's chest. "At least, I thought they didn't," he explains softly. He definitely feels wanted now, and in many ways it's been profoundly good for him. It's certainly helped his confidence, overall.

Derek remains there, sturdy, stable for him, a foundation to rest on, at least for the time being. He's not looking forward to what he's going to have to do, how he's going to have to bust ass to actually get this done in time, but he'll do it. He pats Stiles on the head again. "Hey. You wanna train? I'm putting them through it. Things have to go just right or people are gonna die."

Stiles lifts his head, raising an eyebrow, and says, "Train me to what? I'm not exactly in need of learning to channel my inner wolf, Derek. And I can't learn to fight like you guys do, either. None of it's really... something I'm able to do." He grimaces a bit, then shrugs. "I think Kay's got the right idea. I need to get better educated on this stuff. I mean... neither you or Scott has a real emissary." It's the first time he's openly spoken about this idea to anyone but Melissa, but clearly it's something he's considering.

"I can train you in just fighting with what you've got." Derek places his hands on the other man's shoulders, looking down to his face. "That's what I'm doing with Boyd and Erica. It doesn't matter if it's claws and muscles or a bat or whatever." There's care in his look. Care in his posture, and in the way he's touching Stiles, holding him by the shoulders. "Emissary?" He asks, voice lowered softer. "That's...a good idea." It's not so much that he's surprised, but some surprise shows in his voice. Surprise, but more...admiration. A compliment.

Stiles smiles wryly and shrugs, leaning up against Derek. "Well, I mean, it's not like Deaton's really stepped up to do it. He's too busy being retired veterinarian guy... whyever... so, why not me? It's something I can do to help. I might even be *good* at it."