Stiles had spent a good portion of his formative years learning the differences between human and wolven physiology, and understanding how he was much much more breakable than his supernatural counterparts, and therefore had good idea of how to block pain until he could split it into manageable levels that allowed him to survive. So it was unsurprising he felt the pain before he heard the whispers as his innate situational awareness was subsumed by his swollen right eye and large bump on the back of his head. Once he categorized his physical ailments, remembered the events leading to his current situation, he allowed his other senses to filter outside information.

"...what the hell, Isaac..."

"I didn't mean to hit him hard..."

"...where's...he should be..."

"He knows! I wolfed out..."

"...how many times did you hit..."

Two male voices, one familiar the other not; it took a moment for him to place the higher panicked voice as the werewolf Isaac. His companion, however, wasn't one who'd been introduced to him as of yet, and Stiles felt it prudent to remain motionless and pretend to still be unconscious in an effort to gain more insight to the argument.

"Get Lydia."

"I can't you idiot! It's her turn today and you know that means she can't be distracted."

Lydia...Lydia...why do I...oh yes, the cafeteria.

"What do we do then? He's still out, but when he comes to...he'll know."

"Jesus Christ, Isaac, his aunt is the new English teacher here. What do you think is going to happen? You're gonna get dragged before Gerard and you know this is exactly what they've been waiting for."

Gerard ? They? What, or rather, who are they talking about?

"What...what if...he doesn't wake up?"

The implications in his words hit Stiles immediately and all his thoughts stopped cold; there was always a very high chance of him dying beneath wolven claws given his lifestyle, but not like this. Duke would have to forgive him for blowing his cover because he wasn't going to go down like a bitch, and he'd studied the blond wolf enough to know a few weak points.

Fortunately for him, or perhaps more accurately for Isaac, the mysterious male slapped the wolf upside the head and spat out, "Get that fucking thought out of your head! We've just barely managed to convince the Argents we've got the deaths under control, so there's no fucking way you can start murdering students because you don't have your wolf under control."

"I do," the wolf rumbled. "There's just something about him that sets me off – Erica and Matt too."

The male slapped the wolf again for good measure before muttering something. Despite Stiles' position besides them, he couldn't understand the words coming out of the guy's mouth, and it took a second to realize it wasn't due to hearing loss, but because he was swearing and or speaking in another language. He couldn't recognize any of the words as it didn't appear to be on of the six languages Stiles was fluent in, and his curiosity was ignited again.

"Jackson, I think...I think he's waking up."

Stiles cursed himself briefly as he realized he'd forgone regulating his heartbeat and the interest in the other male's activities had allowed his heart rate to elevate. Groaning, he put a hand to his head and made a show of wincing against the light – it was annoying, sure, but not painful – and struggled to sit up.

"Wha-what happened?' he slurred in a hopefully distraught tone.

"You fell and hit your head man. Isaac and I were here to help you up."

Stiles slowly blinked and allowed his gaze to move up a pair of tight blue jeans across a stretched white t-shirt, and into dark blue eyes. He finally had a face to put to the voice, and realized it was the lickable cheekbones from the cafeteria tour.

"I fell?"

"Uh yeah, I scared you when I came up behind you, 'cause you slipped backwards and hit your head on the post."

The impromptu lie was half-way decent in his estimation, but didn't account for the ache in his eye.

"And my eye? It feels like its swelling."

"Ah, in my, uh, attempt to catch you before falling, you, uh kinda fell on my fist."

Stiles manfully stifled the incredulous chuckle wanting to burst by pursing his lips. He looked at Isaac and saw how contrite the wolf looked, a bowing of his shoulders in instinctive submission. The blond didn't look capable of wolfing out now, nor was he as cocky as he was this morning. There was a faint buzz in the air and Stiles wondered if it was something Jackson – he finally remembered his name – was doing.

"Thanks...I guess? I mean, you shouldn't scare people, you know? And might not've been your fault. I sometimes suffer from epilepsy."

The relief on both boys' faces was incredible and made Stiles want to mess with them a little more. He shuffled around as if trying to get up, and Isaac stepped forward with his hand outstretched. Stiles shrank from it then shook himself and allowed the other boy to pull him to his feet. Jackson stood watching them with a now inscrutable look on his face.

"Look man, I don't want any trouble with you, okay? I don't know what I did to piss you off, so just stay away from me. Far, far away." The tremble in his voice was a nice touch, in his opinion, and Isaac winced when he heard it. If the wolf was using his nose, he would've caught the lack of fear present in Stiles, but it was obvious he wasn't very well-trained.

"I'm sorry about earlier...it was...you know...you're the first new kid and we thought it would be funny to haze you. Nothing more. Uh sorry?"

Hazing? That was what he was going with? If Isaac or the other two were an example of the type of wolves in this town, it was a wonder humans hadn't discovered the supernatural much sooner. Or hell, the hunters hadn't wiped them clean off the map.

Hunters...Mrs. Argent...Gerard...Argent...of course.

Screw class, he needed to talk to Jenny as soon as possible because this just got a little more complicated.

"Whatever, I gotta go before I'm late." The warning bell rang. "Or later than I already am."

Isaac's mouth gaped open a few times as if he was trying to say something, but in the end he just nodded. Jackson, who still hadn't introduced himself, just stared some more, and Stiles felt his eyes boring into his back as he walked away. He still didn't know what the hell was going on with Scott and the wolves, but now he had the Argents in town, and also needed to figure out how the hell Lydia and Jackson fit into this little picture.

Of course, finding Jenny was easier said than done since Stiles hadn't really paid attention to her schedule any more than his, so he ended up going to the office and asking an aide there for his aunt's classroom. Her fifth hour was full and he didn't bother interrupting, waiting patiently for the bell to ring by slumping down against the lockers with a book in hand in case anyone happened by. His luck held, however, and no one saw him until the period ended and the hallways flooded with students.

Jenny was erasing the blackboard - God this was a backwards town to still have blackboards – when he strolled in. She was dressed primly enough with a knee-length tweed skirt and some sort of sweater type shirt, and he was tempted to make an Madonna/whore comment, but decided to stow it for later when they weren't in danger of being overheard.

"Teacher, I have a problem."

"What are you doing here, Stiles? Your last class isn't in this building."

She still hadn't turned to face him, and he propped himself on the edge of her desk with his backpack flung on the floor.

"I met some interesting people today."

"You don't say – oh my god, what happened to your face."

"See," he commented dryly, "this is one aspects of being introduced to new people here. One with a rage problem didn't like me being in his space, and he let me know."

A black brow arched with incredulity. "Already? You found trouble already?"

Stiles shrugged. "It's a talent, what can I say?"

"So, did this person with a rage problem have friends?"

"Three that I know of..."

She nodded absently, a long pale finger rubbing against her lips. "And your new tour buddy?"

"Not sure just yet. He doesn't have an anger management problem, but he definitely can calm people down."

He debated about reporting Jackson then decided against it because they might be allies now through Duke's machinations, yet it wouldn't always be so, and he needed to make sure he always had the upper hand with her. It didn't used to be that way, of course, but he was a naïve and trusting fool no longer.

"Plan?"

He smiled wryly. "Join the Lacrosse team."

"Are you serious?"

"Most of those I need to keep an eye on are on the team. How else for me to get close and personal with them?"

"Sure you aren't trying to find a way into their pants?"

"Underage bait is fun to play with, but I don't shit where I work." Looking, however, wasn't off the table.

"Keep that in mind," Jenny warned. Stiles merely stared at her and waited until she couldn't keep eye contact with him any longer. She disguised her actions by shuffling papers on her desk, but he wasn't fooled and knew she knew too.

"Well, do what you have to do, and I'll meet you after your last class in the parking lot."

"No class?"

"No, my sixth period is free which is when I'll do my student planning."

A thought occurred to Stiles. "Have you met the most charming Mrs. Argent?"

"And Gerard, the principal. Her father-in-law."

"I thought their females were wiped out."

"I have information you don't have?"

Cursing himself for revealing his ignorance, Stiles allowed a sharp smile to bend his lips into an upward curve, baring his teeth. "Unlike you, I belong to someone who actually utilizes me so I don't have as much time on my hands as you."

Jenny lost the superior smirk, though her eyes still gleamed. Words were the only weapons they had at their disposal now except they couldn't devolve into their usual fracas, so she shelved her emotions for later when they would be alone.

"The current Mrs. Argent married into the clan – she married Gerard's eldest son Chris and gave birth to a daughter. It was Kate, the youngest child, and Gerard's wife who were killed along with some cousins."

"What happened to Mrs. Argent's daughter?"

"That's the mystery. No one knows where she is; we have information on her until she was ten then she disappeared from view. It doesn't seem like anyone in the hunting world has any idea either."

That was big news and something Stiles should've known because the Argents were the closest thing to hunting royalty since their heritage stretched back to the Old World. They were the first family to emigrate to America and hunted as many native shifters as they did werewolves; for them, anything from the supernatural world was fair game.

"How old would she be now?"

Jenny thought about it for a moment. "Well, she would probably be about sixteen or seventeen."

"What does that have to do with what's going on in Beacon Hills? I mean, as far as I know, they haven't been actively hunting since five years ago. At least Chris hasn't."

"I didn't even know Gerard was still alive until we came here. He hasn't been in the limelight since the Cherry Road fiasco."

Stiles winced at the polite allusion to the Granger Pack Massacre; it was one of the biggest coups any hunter had scored on the North American Packs since Duke came to power as the Alphas' Alpha.

"So we have a resuscitated Hale Pack, a bloodless Emissary, and the Argents." He exchanged looks with Jenny, their minds focused on the mystery before them. "What the fuck is going on in this town?"